Try to defend Bukowski's ouvre avoiding:
>talking about his personal life, childhood or family
>comparing him to other authors you label as "pretentious"
>talking about Bukowski readers (or other author readers)
>once again, talking about his lifestyle. We all know he was an alcoholic. Tons of writers were too, and they had something more to tell.
He explores unashamed primalism, which is unspoilt because of that lack of shame.
He also incorporates a brand of psychology which a lot of people find relatable. You'll probably realise a lot of people in your life are similar to characters of his, and his stories emulate those personalities so that you might reflect on them.
>He explores unashamed primalism, which is unspoilt because of that lack of shame
OK, I'll take that. But in all of his novels he portraits that same shit in the same way. It ends up being boring.
>That's stupid because his lifestyle and life is the subject of his books. That doesn't disqualify him as a writer, faggot
It does if he can't tell his life in an aesthetically attractive way. I just say basing all your literary value on your real life is a shitty trick. Most Bukowski fans end up talking about what that nigga lived instead of the virtues of his writing.
I read it as a meaningful insight into a certain historical time period. I can understand some authors who have a word for everything forget the raw immediacy of the life we lead. He's also the only one who comes close to the witty banter I hear on the train every day. True literature is the corpus of slang and bathroom art.
>I just say basing all your literary value on your real life is a shitty trick.
No you dont. Not once has one of you faggots called out Joyce for bitching about muh conflicting religious ideals in any of his stories. The only difference is you want flowery prose not something straight forward.
Fag, you ain't gettin shit. If Joyce wrote and portraited his themes (which are obviously much fruitful, deep and wide than Bukowski's shit) like shit was a teen diary, he would be as shitty as Bukowski is.
>every social interaction and situation arises from the fact that he's drunk and ugly. that's the dynamic. it's an intrinsic part of his writing
And that's the main reason why his writing is shit.
Why should I have to defend my enjoyment of something? Maybe it just "is what it is" and appeals to me for personal reasons.
More pertinently, I'd like to see anyone try to defend posting on /lit/ as a productive use of one's time.
Excuse you but I am a highly experienced reader of such aesthetes as Flambeau, etc, etc, etc, and if I engage in the dilettante dalliance, literary light reading of Charles Bukowski -- who, in truth, by paternity of John Fante traces a lineage to Dosteovsky and a distant kinship to his majesty James Joyce -- I am free and indeed would be close minded and bigoted to ignore and not enjoy for enjoyment's sake such rugged, primal joys as my visceral loins allow.
I have only read Wait Until Spring, Bandini by John Fante, to be honest, so I am not completely qualified for this conversation. The point of analogy, though, is both authors are writing partially fictionalized, dramatized experiences of their own lives, and although most authors probably do the same to an extent, it's not so blatant and it's not so much inundated with the scum and filth of real life. Fante in Bandini, though, I think does partially redeem the mundane ugliness of life and that makes him more like Joyce, and Bukowski does just revel in his own filth.
I poured some scotch for the two of us. Jan grabbed me by the balls. "I'll be late," I said. "You haven't fucked me all day. I need a good fucking."
"A man's gotta work." Jan bit into my cock. I screamed. "Okay, okay!" Jim was waiting by the front desk by the time that I arrived at work. "I'm gonna have to let you go, Chinaski." "Okay."
Fante's Ask the Dust is much more of a forerunner to Bukowski, not Wait Until Spring, Bandini. Even then the differences are vast. To me, Bukowski's novels come across primarily as an attempt at being Henry Miller.
I've only read Tropic of Cancer by Henry Miller. The gist I got from that, though, is that the emptiness of such an existence, and it's far more extreme (a quick, glib and insufficient summary, I realise). The gist I got from Bandini is the poetry of ordinary life, even in all its ugliness. Charles Bukowski exists within that tradition of realism, where these authors try to depict real life in its excesses, deprivations, ugliness, depravity as well as the sweet moments, the touching beauty and that, and for that, Bukowski can be likened to Fante easily as well as Henry Miller, although pretty much everyone is copying Dostoevsky, to be honest. Bukowski just lives life for what it is, shit and ugly and sometimes enjoyable, and he writes about it occasionally for his own glorification. He's simple as anything but he emerges out of a pretty complex literary tradition.
He's right. Its below all standards of good expression, not to mention good behavior towards others.
The fact that we're on the internet and 4chan at that shouldn't make this notion ridiculed despite its fruitfulness. Why? Because its the truth.
His novels describe simply and succinctly the experience of living as an outsider who chases the feeling of being connected.
Like Moby Dick, in its structure and obsessive digressions, enables the reader to feel the tediousness and all consuming passion of Ahab's whale hunt , as though he were actually on the Pequod, Bukowski's Ham on Rye lets us experience the journey of the tormented Hank Chinaski.
His poetry is diverse enough to warrant multiple "defenses", but I'd say it's beautiful and offers comfort to the lonely and unwanted as well as solace for those overwhelmed by their animal desires.
Post Office was a good book and the rest were pretty meh, I couldn't even get through Women. But he probably wouldn't give a fuck who said that, us or if it was fucking Harold Bloom or something. And I think that's why I like Post Office cause it's pretty much just him, even the parts that make you roll your eyes cause he's trying to prove how hardcore he was, you can see so easily that that's him embellishing. I dunno the book is just unapologetic and that was impressive enough for me.
There are many wonderful things to experience reading Bukowski.
When some workmates followed him up to a roof top to fight him and he knew he couldn't take them but took his shirt off anyway and fought and took a beating, that's fucking sad and I teared up. Especially how stuff like that happened routinely to him. But he always got up and kept going.
>tfw i look like a younger version of bukowski
>some random customer at my old job pointed this out to me and then said ''he's a great writer''
i had to take my break and have a cigarette after this
just fuck my shit up senpai
Bukowski has a poor reputation on this forum, but he's my favorite. Bukowski channers probably spend more time on other forums because most of us have settled the great literary debates. In other words, we don't need them. We have everything we need.
Bukowski's best trait. Too many writers are guilty of feeling as if they need to justify or explain their actions. Bukowski cuts straight to the core and the germ of his stories.