Women: A Novel (original 1978; edition 2007)

I thoroughly enjoy Bukowski's work, but I got tired of Bukowksi's prose two thirds of the way into the novel. The writing becomes terse and Bukowski's blunt simplicity becomes tiresome after he describes the same "types" of scenes over and over.

I still ate up the book in a couple of days. This book is quite satirical and boarders the surreal. I love how Bukowski's characters speak about arbitrary subjects, and somehow, these arbritray subjects characterizes their speakers perfectly.

It's an interesting and wobbly travail down Bukowski Road. That man sure had some devoted fans that put up with a lot of shit to be in his presence. ( )

An 18+ novel that reads like a children's book. This autobiographical recollection of Bukowski's encounter with woman after woman after woman (after woman) doesn't have a specific message, but it serves as a brutally honest look at the character's degenerate lifestyle as a womanizing alcoholic. Chinaski often questions why women give him the time of day, given he's a total low-life...but whatever he's doing as a newly famous poet certainly is garnering attention from ladies far more interesting than he. The contrast between his pathetic ways and the lifestyles of some of the women that pursue him is large (belly dancers, health nuts, promoters, etc.).

I can't say I thoroughly enjoyed this book. It was interesting to read about the ease with which Chinaski beds women, but the plot repeats itself over and over again with a new woman each time until finally he's forced to realize that he's a scumbag and that he needs to change his ways and treat women with respect and dignity. I can't say I got much out of it, except for a few laughs and one particularly striking characteristic: amidst all the drinking, sex, and laziness that is Chinaski's life and thought process, we are hit with "pangs" of wisdom and emotional introspection about both himself and society. As though throughout the monotonous life of drinking and affairs, there's still a true human being somewhere in there. Wouldn't read again. ( )

Pure crap.
And I love his poetry.
I even enjoyed Post Office and Factotum.
But this novel just shows what a miserable human being he was.
He was vain.
He was selfish.
He objectified women.

Just take this snippet:

At ten AM I went down for breakfast. I found Pete and Selma. Selma looked great. How did one get a Selma? The dogs of this world never ended up with a Selma. Dogs ended up with dogs. Selma served us breakfast. She was beautiful and one man owned her, a college professor. That was not quite right, somehow. Educated hotshot smoothies. Education was the new god, and educated men the new plantation masters.

Seriously?
This book removed Bukowski from my favorite authors list.
At least he was honest.
He was right:
Dogs end up with dogs. ( )

Women finds Bukowski (or Chinaski) after he has arrived as a novelist and poet. It's sort of like Factotum except instead of going through a bunch of jobs, he goes through a bunch of women. It doesn't quite reach the high water mark of Factotum, though, because the sex in that smaller book is sexy and the low-life of Chinaski works well with the people he interacts with. In fact, I'm going to have to read Factotum again, probably. Anyways, his trademarks are certainly there in this book, they're just not shown to his best like Ham On Rye. ( )

Increible libro de este escritor estadounidense, envuelve y satisface con su estilo unico parte del "realismo sucio" ( )