Upon discovering Bukowski, I read 'Women' and at the time it was the best book I had ever read for the way it was wrote, it's brutal raw honesty and authenticity and the lessons I learned from it; it actually transformed my paradigm of interacting with 'Women' more than two years as a 'player' in the pick-up artist community, as strange as that may sound.
Then I read 'Post Office' which is Bukowski documenting his days working for the US Postal Service. He basically managed to make one of the most boring jobs imaginable sound fascinating, and not by glamourising his job either. If anything, it was completely the opposite, he stripped down his job to its lowest most raw denominator.
After that, I almost immediately read Factotum, which I believe I've reviewed on here already. After Factotum, I was well and truly hooked, and alas now I'm reading Ham on Rye.
Although I'm only half way through; it reminds me of one of my favourite books 'Angelas Ashes' by Frank McCourt which is the greatest Irish book of the last century.
It contains the atypical raw honesty and uncompromising authenticty I love about Bukowski, the dry wit, short punchy sentences and chapters which makes it almost impossible to put down. The hilarity mixed with the twinges of sadness are compelling, and make for a magical literary journey from beyond time.
Bukowski is my favourite author, very much. I look forward to recieving more of his work for christmas.
Ham on Rye may very well be my favourite Bukowski novel yet.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
An apothegm: read all of this guys fucking work.
Enough thinking about things for one day, I'm going to watch Kill Bill now on my laptop as the flashing scenes of ultraviolence accompanied by a typically quirky Tarantino soundtrack projecting from my damaged pixelated screen reduce my brain cells and frontal lobe to ivicerated cabbage. Like coleslaw.
Goodbye.
-Michael
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