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A review by passthemustard
Women by Charles Bukowski
3.0
What can you say ...it's Bukowski?
Sure, it's a little crass. But it's also hilarious and there's little gems of beauty hidden among all this depravity.
There's a lot of bullshit in the world and this is definitely not bullshit.
I mean everything is technically filtered through the words filtered through the eyes and the mind.
But I think that's the reason why people keep reading Bukowski. It at least doesn't feel like bullshit.
Generally speaking, I think his poetry is better than the novels I've read.
Better to take it as the sum rather than the parts.
And even a self-described ogre himself has a bit of transformation towards the end.
He finds a good woman.
Who among all the women who you've read about obviously has a soul about her.
And it's not that he's not self-aware.
" I had to get myself straightened out. The only time a man needed a lot of women was when none of them were any good. A man could lose his identity fucking around too much. Sara deserved much better than I was giving her. It was up to me now. I stretched out on the bed and was soon asleep."
" The sex had been fine; there had been laughter. I could hardly remember a more civilized time, neither of us making any demands, yet there had been warmth, it had not been without feeling, dead meat coupled with dead meat. I detested that type of swing game, the Los Angeles, Hollywood, Bel Air, Malibu, Laguna Beach kind of sex. Strangers when you meet, strangers when you part- a gymnasium of bodies namelessly masturbating each other. People with no morals often consider themselves more free, but mostly they lacked the ability to feel or to love. So they became swingers. The dead fucking the dead. There was no gamble or humor in their game- it was corpse fucking corpse. Morals were restrictive, but they were grounded on human experience down through the centuries. Some morals tended to keep people, slaves in factories, in churches and true to the state. Other morals simply made good sense. It was like a garden filled with poison fruit and good fruit. You had to know which one to pick and eat, which to leave alone. "
Sure, it's a little crass. But it's also hilarious and there's little gems of beauty hidden among all this depravity.
There's a lot of bullshit in the world and this is definitely not bullshit.
I mean everything is technically filtered through the words filtered through the eyes and the mind.
But I think that's the reason why people keep reading Bukowski. It at least doesn't feel like bullshit.
Generally speaking, I think his poetry is better than the novels I've read.
Better to take it as the sum rather than the parts.
And even a self-described ogre himself has a bit of transformation towards the end.
He finds a good woman.
Who among all the women who you've read about obviously has a soul about her.
And it's not that he's not self-aware.
" I had to get myself straightened out. The only time a man needed a lot of women was when none of them were any good. A man could lose his identity fucking around too much. Sara deserved much better than I was giving her. It was up to me now. I stretched out on the bed and was soon asleep."
" The sex had been fine; there had been laughter. I could hardly remember a more civilized time, neither of us making any demands, yet there had been warmth, it had not been without feeling, dead meat coupled with dead meat. I detested that type of swing game, the Los Angeles, Hollywood, Bel Air, Malibu, Laguna Beach kind of sex. Strangers when you meet, strangers when you part- a gymnasium of bodies namelessly masturbating each other. People with no morals often consider themselves more free, but mostly they lacked the ability to feel or to love. So they became swingers. The dead fucking the dead. There was no gamble or humor in their game- it was corpse fucking corpse. Morals were restrictive, but they were grounded on human experience down through the centuries. Some morals tended to keep people, slaves in factories, in churches and true to the state. Other morals simply made good sense. It was like a garden filled with poison fruit and good fruit. You had to know which one to pick and eat, which to leave alone. "