CHARLES BUKOWSKI
I've just finished reading Post Office. I was aware of CB's reputation as a misogynist so I wasn't too surprised to discover that his attitudes towards women are vile. But the man has some kind of humanity (yes, I suppose even this word is biased). It was an ambiguity that kept me reading. He - it's safe to assume CB is the narrator - would frequently discuss the various women in his life solely in terms of their flesh, shape and smell. In terms of sex. But he did suffer personally and feel for others. If he didn't, I would've been unable to continue reading the book. Consider the following passages:
The subs themselves made Jonstone possible by obeying his impossible orders. I couldn't see how a man of such obvious cruelty could be allowed to have his position. The regulars didn't care, the union man was worthless, so I filled out a thirty page report on one of my days off, mailed a copy to Jonstone and took the other down to the Federal Building. The clerk told me to wait. I waited and waited and waited, then was taken in to see a little grey-haired man. He didn't even ask me to sit down. He began screaming at me as I entered the door.
"You're a wise son of a bitch, aren't you?"
"I'd rather you didn't curse me, sir!"
"Wise son of a bitch, you're one of those sons of bitches with a vocabularly and you like to lay it around!"
He waved his papers at me. And screamed: "MR JONSTONE IS A FINE MAN!"
"Don't be silly. He's an obvious sadist," I said.
"How long have you been in the post office?"
"3 weeks."
"MR JONSTONE HAS BEEN WITH THE POST OFFICE FOR 30 YEARS!"
"What does that have to do with it?
"I said, MR JONSTONE IS A FINE MAN!"
I believe the poor fellow actually wanted to kill me. He and Jonstone must have slept together.
"All right," I said, "Mr Jonstone is a fine man. Forget the whole thing." Then I walked out and took the next day off. Without pay, of course.
Fine. A likeable narrator who is morally sound. And he sends his girlfriend money for their daughter.
But then there are passages like this:
One day I was at the bar between races and I saw this woman. God or somebody keeps creating women and tossing them out on the streets, and this one's ass is too big and that one's tits are too small and this one is mad and that one is crazy and that one is a religionist and that one reads tea leaves and this one can't control her farts, and that one has this big nose, and that one has boney legs....
But now and then, a woman walks up, full blossom, a woman just bursting out of her dress... a sex creature, a curse, the end of it all.
Morally bankrupt. Somebody you'd avoid.
Anyway, it was a quick, simple read (one day). "Beat writing" attempts to make a virtue out of its shortcomings. A pared down vocabularly and the inability to vary the pace/create tension/develop a plot, etc, are not the hallmarks of great literature. On the Road is one of the most overrated 'books' (for I don't know quite what else it is) ever.
I've just finished reading Post Office. I was aware of CB's reputation as a misogynist so I wasn't too surprised to discover that his attitudes towards women are vile. But the man has some kind of humanity (yes, I suppose even this word is biased). It was an ambiguity that kept me reading. He - it's safe to assume CB is the narrator - would frequently discuss the various women in his life solely in terms of their flesh, shape and smell. In terms of sex. But he did suffer personally and feel for others. If he didn't, I would've been unable to continue reading the book. Consider the following passages:
The subs themselves made Jonstone possible by obeying his impossible orders. I couldn't see how a man of such obvious cruelty could be allowed to have his position. The regulars didn't care, the union man was worthless, so I filled out a thirty page report on one of my days off, mailed a copy to Jonstone and took the other down to the Federal Building. The clerk told me to wait. I waited and waited and waited, then was taken in to see a little grey-haired man. He didn't even ask me to sit down. He began screaming at me as I entered the door.
"You're a wise son of a bitch, aren't you?"
"I'd rather you didn't curse me, sir!"
"Wise son of a bitch, you're one of those sons of bitches with a vocabularly and you like to lay it around!"
He waved his papers at me. And screamed: "MR JONSTONE IS A FINE MAN!"
"Don't be silly. He's an obvious sadist," I said.
"How long have you been in the post office?"
"3 weeks."
"MR JONSTONE HAS BEEN WITH THE POST OFFICE FOR 30 YEARS!"
"What does that have to do with it?
"I said, MR JONSTONE IS A FINE MAN!"
I believe the poor fellow actually wanted to kill me. He and Jonstone must have slept together.
"All right," I said, "Mr Jonstone is a fine man. Forget the whole thing." Then I walked out and took the next day off. Without pay, of course.
Fine. A likeable narrator who is morally sound. And he sends his girlfriend money for their daughter.
But then there are passages like this:
One day I was at the bar between races and I saw this woman. God or somebody keeps creating women and tossing them out on the streets, and this one's ass is too big and that one's tits are too small and this one is mad and that one is crazy and that one is a religionist and that one reads tea leaves and this one can't control her farts, and that one has this big nose, and that one has boney legs....
But now and then, a woman walks up, full blossom, a woman just bursting out of her dress... a sex creature, a curse, the end of it all.
Morally bankrupt. Somebody you'd avoid.
Anyway, it was a quick, simple read (one day). "Beat writing" attempts to make a virtue out of its shortcomings. A pared down vocabularly and the inability to vary the pace/create tension/develop a plot, etc, are not the hallmarks of great literature. On the Road is one of the most overrated 'books' (for I don't know quite what else it is) ever.
