... from Erections, Ejaculations and Tales of Ordinary Madness. This is one of the most disturbing short stories I've ever read because of its raw, unvarnished brutality - the reader is spared nothing of the prolonged savagery, and it's an example of Bukowski drawing upon news events of the day to write it in his 1972 book. I came to the following conclusions on my own and not from some crappy biography...
On October 30th, 1968, the silent film actor Ramon Novarro - who had turned to other business ventures, including real estate investments - was savagely tortured and beaten in his North Hollywood home by several young drifters. They had heard - in error - that he had thousands of dollars locked away somewhere in his home. They never found any money, and Ramon was discovered dead the next day (Halloween) by his servant.
I view Bukowski's story as some form of creative exorcism of Novarro's soul from this brutal and savage experience and the portrayal of the dark side of human nature through Bukowski's amazing talent of becoming one with both the victim and the murderers artistically. In that sense, Bukowski had a certain way of having a "mediumistic" identification with the characters - a quality of identification that I have yet to find in other writers where you know they're writing about the horror without become one with the horror. Bukowski became at one with it by getting himself out of the way and placing himself in that terrible room with the participants through his genius of imagination.
I'm glad to finally get this out of my system... because the story remains deeply disturbing even after all this time whenever I think of it and I never want to read the sickening thing again because it was like being there... Now carry on...
On October 30th, 1968, the silent film actor Ramon Novarro - who had turned to other business ventures, including real estate investments - was savagely tortured and beaten in his North Hollywood home by several young drifters. They had heard - in error - that he had thousands of dollars locked away somewhere in his home. They never found any money, and Ramon was discovered dead the next day (Halloween) by his servant.
I view Bukowski's story as some form of creative exorcism of Novarro's soul from this brutal and savage experience and the portrayal of the dark side of human nature through Bukowski's amazing talent of becoming one with both the victim and the murderers artistically. In that sense, Bukowski had a certain way of having a "mediumistic" identification with the characters - a quality of identification that I have yet to find in other writers where you know they're writing about the horror without become one with the horror. Bukowski became at one with it by getting himself out of the way and placing himself in that terrible room with the participants through his genius of imagination.
I'm glad to finally get this out of my system... because the story remains deeply disturbing even after all this time whenever I think of it and I never want to read the sickening thing again because it was like being there... Now carry on...