Outgrowing Bukowski (1 Viewer)

I read him and re-read him all through my late 20s and 30s. 15 years in total. Getting wasted in the bushes with a couple of his books fueled him to life, appearing on an open book of his like a starwars hologram, talking right to me.

But after a while, he faded. He dried up. Re-reading his works for a 15th time did not resuscitate him. This curmudgeon, this dangerous and beautiful voice from the sky became just a bunch of repetitively angry books sitting on my shelf that alcohol had written and alcohol had audienced.

An old friend had finally died.

Is anyone else approaching this?

A new world awaits...
 
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10 years ago when I joined this forum (sweet Christ, really? Yup, 10 years in June) I was pretty obsessive. As I've aged, I've cool a little bit on Hank, but that's true of most things I liked 10 years ago. I still like them I'm just not dedicating every waking minute to them like I have been.

I actually haven't re-read on of Bukowski's novels in probably about 5 years anyhow, but I always come back to the poetry (as P_S was kind enough to point out). The poetry is always there and represents a wider swath of his experience and emotional output.
 
im sorry your "old friend" died. If what you get/got is the alcoholic self-mythology, then I could see it getting
repetitive. I'm in the midst of reading a lot of his pre-Black Sparrow stuff, and the magic has not waned for me.
 
I'm in the midst of reading a lot of his pre-Black Sparrow stuff, and the magic has not waned for me.

And that gentleman quit drinking quite a while back, so don't blame it on that.

I actually appreciate your offer to save us with your new world, but I can tell you I am either quite Buk healthy or incurrable at this point.

P.S. You don't seem very happy. What is it you want or expect us to find? Actually, I'm probably not that interested.
 
interesting responses. appreciate it. my narrative isn't preaching to the converted here - i was reluctant to post this initially. but think it's always good to challenge dominant views in any forum (respectfully, of course).

the term 'outgrowing' implies some sort of superiority which i don't mean to infer. more i've sideways-grown him. neither above or below him.

i've always found his poems have more stuff to them (than the novels). perhaps i'll come back to him in another ten years and he'll shine bright once more. what i always admired was he was so dark, which inversely allowed the tiny pin-pricks of light that he'd offer mesmerisingly bright. for the moment i'm overwhelmed by the darkness in his work (probably as i've dramatically cut back on my own boozing, so i'm less depressed - and perhaps makes it harder to relate to his world view). he gave me just the medicine i needed at that particular time in my life.
 
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I go back to a lot of scenes from his novels and they never disappoint. A few stand out...

The fight with Becker in Ham on Rye:

He knocks Becker down then tries to act casual and pour himself a drink but his hand is shaking cuz he's scared out of his mind. At one point he claims he has him beat but Becker is standing in front of an open second or third story window and he doesn't want to knock him down to the street below and kill him. He then wakes up under the bed covered in blood and vomit and the room is destroyed and the Asian guy is knocking on the door. He cracks him over the head with his typewriter, describes the sound as a godawful "thud," then gets out of there wondering if he killed the guy.

The football game with Kong in Ham on Rye:

After watching Kong destroy two guys on the field, Chinaski is summoned to join the game. He gets into the huddle and says "What's the plan?" and another guy replies "to stay the fuck alive..." He then takes out Kong in back-to-back plays.

Catching the last horse race in Factotum:

He and another guy realize if they sneak out of work at 4:50 and drive like scalded apes to the track they can place bets on the last race. They find themselves sweeping up every day and slowly they sweep closer and closer to the exit before making a clean break. They start taking bets from their co-workers:

Chinaski: We'll take their money and put it on our horse.
Friend: What if they pick our horse?
Chinaski: Then we've got the wrong horse...

They sprint to the ticket window, place the bet, then run down the tunnel as the crowd roars upon their arrival.

Good stuff.
 
I think I am definitely more critical now compared to when I started. I think that now I think his best stuff is even better than I originally thought (because I understand more about life and have read more widely) but think that there is less of that good stuff than I originally thought. So, the core of great stuff is still there, only a bit smaller. I enjoy reading even the not-great stuff but I read it less often.

Part of the problem is that you've binge read. I think anything gets tired if you read it too much. It is the same with music.
 
Hello Idiotmachine and welcome to the forum.

How old are you? I ask becasue you mentioned reading a lot of Buk in your 20's and 30's. For me, the later stuff does get old. Seems that a lot of the stuff that he wrote seemed a bit repetitive (fame, drinking, race tracks, whores, writing....) Hard to keep it fresh when you are writing that much. And I can see how reading that again would seem stale. That being said, what books have you read? All of them? If you want some really exciting stuff, look to the older books: Bunring in Water, Mockingbird, Days Run Away, Roominghouse Madrigals...

There is also a lot of newly discovered stuff coming out that, unless you were reading him in the 50s and 60s, will be new to you.

Abel Debritto is the editor for Ecco and he has spent a LONG time researching and finding once-lost poems. David Calonne is the editor for City Lights and he has found lots of long lost prose. Both are active here on this forum.

Also worth checking out the manuscripts that are posted somewhere om the web....

Best,
Bill
 
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Tastes can change. I remember I used to love Henry Miller and Kurt Vonnegut, but it's been a long time since I've given either any thought. But then there are some writers that, for whatever reason, I never lose interest in or whose books inspire me on some level... For me Buk is in that category. It doesn't mean I'm reading Buk everyday or re-reading his books every year, but I dip in from time to time. And I think of him warmly now and then, like when I log in here...
 
I discovered Buk in my late teens, and now at 35, I find myself revisiting the poetry and short stories more than the novels. The Novels hooked me, but the other stuff keeps me. I appreciate the humor more than I did at first.
 
I'm pushing fifty here and one of the only things that hasn't worn thin in the last 30 years is Buk's poetry, but then I've never quit drinking, so that's just me.
My advice to you, OP: go to Staples and buy twenty reams of paper and ten binders, print out entire contents of the Buk dot net manuscripts page, then go to the unpublished/uncollected page and do same, arrange printed pages in new binder, read them, get back to us in another fifteen to twenty years.
 
I now see idiotmachine's overall theme regarding Bukowski.

Unlike our current President, I don't think Bukowski really ever felt he was a "victum." But it goes back to some of his poems and short stories where he mentions women yelling at him for being so "negative about everything." And none of us would deny Bukowski was negative about some things, like Christmas or New Years. And if you are a Bukowski fan who only dwells on the negative, I think idiotmachine is right and maybe you should move on. But Bukowski also found great joy in his daughter, Porterhouse steaks, german wine, cats, dumb dogs and so much more. [Other folks: Please add to the joys.]

My point being, is that Bukowski also wrote about the beauty of life even when he felt the Atom Bomb was about to drop. He saw beauty in a flower somehow coming up in that crack of cement on the sidewalk: A god damn fucking miracle.
 
One of the things about Buk that hits me every time I read him: his finding that spot of something joyful in the mundane or seemingly hidden places around the edges. His general disgust with the larger machinations of human affairs is a departure that some readers can't fathom, but it's the JOY he finds in the obscure peripheries that moves me. It's all any of us really have. Buk amplifies my ability to find these small moments of peace in an otherwise often disappointing world.
 
But after a while, he faded. He dried up. Re-reading his works for a 15th time did not resuscitate him. This curmudgeon, this dangerous and beautiful voice from the sky became just a bunch of repetitively angry books sitting on my shelf that alcohol had written and alcohol had audienced.

An old friend had finally died.

Is anyone else approaching this?

i only felt a bit of that reading the posthumous books. i sort of skimmed through them wondering what happened.

then i found this place and the answer to that.

sorry but i think people that respond to bukowski mainly or only because of the boozing and melodrama aren't getting the important message or expression in his work.

that's one of the least interesting elements of his work for me. it's the pain and damage he suffered that led him to live that way - and turn it into art - that is the compelling part.

great art should get better with age. when i read his stuff these days i'm more moved by it than when i started so long ago.
 
two days ago, I was going to an appointment and as usual I threw a book in my car so the wait wouldn't feel so bad.
Mockingbird Wish Me Luck landed in the front seat.
I picked it up and open the book to The Shoelace.
It broke my heart and read it as it was the first time. And that's was good... I just sat in that chair nodding.
I agree with d gray, the stuff gets better with age.
 
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My love for Bukowski hasn't faded as I've grown older (soon to be 55) but it has taken a few downswings in enthusiasm here and there. And those were always my fault because I am definitely a binge-reader and have never learned to say "enough". Maybe at 65...
 
I still love Bukowskis writing. But I am not as obsessed. My tastes have softened. I love Garrison Keillor and Richard Hugo just as much as I love Bukowski. I even have a new favorite book that is not written by Bukowski. Ham On Rye is now a close second to Crapallachia by Scott McClanahan. I tried to reread Notes of A Dirty Old Man recently and I found it to be boring. But I still love Ham. And Pulp even. And Factotum. Still love those poems. Dont know. I think I'm going to try and reread Factotum. See what happens.
 
I never tire of Bukowski. His view becomes clearer and more vital every day. He speaks of the marrow of things and skips the metaphors and bore.
 
If English isn't your native language, it sometimes helps to read some translated poems, letters etc. I've recently read a couple of poems from War All The Time, translated into German, and I liked it a lot. A few days later I read the original versions, and I liked it even more. Which is kind of funny, because I didn't understand a single word.
What I mean is, I will NEVER get the subtleties of a foreign language, let alone the subtleties of a poem Bukowski wrote 30 or 50 years ago. But there is something beyond the meaning of a word. Rhythm or flow or power, I don't know. Something you can sense without "knowing" every word. When I read Bukowski I often have a feeling of understanding. To be honest, Bukowski is the only anglophone author who gives me this feeling. So "Outgrowing Bukowski" is something I am not able to relate to. What concerns me is "Growing into Bukowski".
 
What i find is that when you start really getting Bukowski, you can't get enough and you read everything you can put your hands on and you become a little hysterical. You read all you can and very fast. Then when you think that you 've read everything, you re-read it all and realize that it is even better than you thought because you had missed the subtlery of it all and forgotten some true gems.
I could never read Buk in french. The interpretations were often too silly. The translators have a tendency to exagerate the persona and miss the little details.
 
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What i find is that when you start really getting Bukowski, you can't get enough and you read everything you can put your hands on and you become a little hysterical. You read all you can and very fast.
Well, I am a very slow reader, especially when it comes to poetry, and I guess I've read only 20-25% of Bukowski's poetry so far. I have absolutely no desire to hurry, never had. Most of the poems from War All The Time, for example, are new to me. Frozen Food Section is one of my favorites. A masterpiece.

I could never read Buk in french. The interpretations were often too silly. The translators have a tendency to exagerate the persona and miss the little details.
Yes, that's the problem of translations. But if your English isn't good enough, you are in a kind of dilemma: You can read the original text which you don't fully understand, or you can read the translation which is often enough inadequate. Either way, you are missing something.
 

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