Low-life writer and unrepentant alcoholic Henry Chinaski was born to survive. After decades of slacking off at low-paying dead-end jobs, blowing his cash on booze and women, and scrimping by in flea-bitten apartments, Chinaski sees his poetic star rising at last. Now, at fifty, he is reveling in... show more
Low-life writer and unrepentant alcoholic Henry Chinaski was born to survive. After decades of slacking off at low-paying dead-end jobs, blowing his cash on booze and women, and scrimping by in flea-bitten apartments, Chinaski sees his poetic star rising at last. Now, at fifty, he is reveling in his sudden rock-star life, running three hundred hangovers a year, and maintaining a sex life that would cripple Casanova. With all of Bukowski's trademark humor and gritty, dark honesty, this 1978 follow-up to Post Office and Factotum is an uncompromising account of life on the edge.
Publish date: February 27th 2007
Pages no: 291
Edition language: English
Read in 2012 (from August 15 to 18) It took me a while to see if I liked the book or not. I did not initially liked the writing style. He seemed arid and vulgar. On the other hand, I see a lot of truth in it. Bukowski describes 'his' life as it is, without false embellishment. He skillfully mi...
Bukowski is a five star poet writing a three star story, averaging out to four stars: but with a +1/2 star for pure, unmixed vodkaric fucking artistic courage … if you’ll pardon the bland but necessary tautology. Instead of a Nobel Prize, a Purple Heart and a Medal of Honor should have been meted ou...
The writing itself was incredible, a real improvement from his first two novels, but the theme was underdeveloped. I'm no music theorist, but I'd say "Women" was more of a simple repeating canon, like "Row, Row, Row Your Boat," than a complex fugue like one of Bach's pieces from Die Kunst der Fuge. ...
Women is definitely not Bukowski at his finest, nevertheless, the book has its merits. In this book, we get a slightly different glimpse at Henry Chinaski, Bukowski's alter ego, and once we get past the same scenery in which the only thing that changes are the sets of legs spread before him, we are ...
Well, Last week was the Bukowski Week for me. Reading three Bukowski books in a week really counts for something. Plainly, it reflects my own predilections towards hedonism. Bukowski is a simple old hedonist, bless his black heart! Those who condemn him, they should go take their moral questions to ...