Notes of a Dirty Old Man - Charles Bukowski Classic Novel | Dark Humor & Raw Life Stories | Perfect for Book Clubs & Literary Enthusiasts
$7.78
$14.15
Safe 45%
Notes of a Dirty Old Man - Charles Bukowski Classic Novel | Dark Humor & Raw Life Stories | Perfect for Book Clubs & Literary Enthusiasts
$7.78
$14.15
45% Off
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SKU: 98828409
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Description
A compilation of Charles Bukowski's underground articles from his column "Notes of a Dirty Old Man" appears here in book form. Bukowski's reasoning for self-describing himself as a 'dirty old man' rings true in this book."People come to my door—too many of them really—and knock to tell me Notes of a Dirty Old Man turns them on. A bum off the road brings in a gypsy and his wife and we talk . . . . drink half the night. A long distance operator from Newburgh, N.Y. sends me money. She wants me to give up drinking beer and to eat well. I hear from a madman who calls himself 'King Arthur' and lives on Vine Street in Hollywood and wants to help me write my column. A doctor comes to my door: 'I read your column and think I can help you. I used to be a psychiatrist.' I send him away . . .""Bukowski writes like a latter-day Celine, a wise fool talking straight from the gut about the futility and beauty of life . . ." —Publishers Weekly"These disjointed stories gives us a glimpse into the brilliant and highly disturbed mind of a man who will drink anything, hump anything and say anything without the slightest tinge of embarassment, shame or remorse. It's actually pretty hard not to like the guy after reading a few of these semi-ranting short stories." —Greg Davidson, curiculummag.comCharles Bukowski was born in Andernach, Germany on August 16, 1920, the only child of an American soldier and a German mother. Bukowski published his first story when he was twenty-four and began writing poetry at the age of thirty-five. His first book of poetry was published in 1959; he went on to publish more than forty-five books of poetry and prose, including Pulp (Black Sparrow, 1994), Screams from the Balcony: Selected Letters 1960-1970 (1993), and The Last Night of the Earth Poems (1992). Other Bukowski books published by City Lights Publishers include More Notes of a Dirty Old Man, The Most Beautiful Woman in Town, Tales of Ordinary Madness, Portions from a Wine-Stained Notebook, and Absence of the Hero. He died of leukemia in San Pedro on March 9, 1994.
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Reviews
*****
Verified Buyer
5
This is the one that made me think Bukowski wasn't just another pretentious scruffy looking poet-writer. And the impression it made on me was inestimable. It was the same reaction I had when I read those other `notes' from that other 'sky, the man himself, Fyodor Dostoevsky.It was a shock to know that there were other people in the world who had thoughts like mine... that life was mixed, nothing was cut and dried, muddled, beauty was touched with horror, love was tainted with hate and other passions that would sometimes lead to actual murder and that it wasn't that bull shown in the movies, society wasn't as rational and good as I was told, that there was always something awful under the surface of things, that God could be dead, that I was full of contradictions and instincts which had the power to overtake me -and perhaps the whole of humanity was afflicted with the same inconsistent nature, that there seem to be no meaning to life (with or without religion) and the universe was a blind absurdity, everything shocked me, and on and on... but in the center of all this was the fact that I was living, that I had the ability to feel and the power to say no.The world seen through Bukowski's eyes is a terrible and beautiful place at the same time. The whores, the drinking binges, the alley fights and the insanity of the man of the streets is a life lived at its most direct and extreme. It is life uncluttered by the niceties and civilities of the numbed life most of us, under the confines of comfy blankets, PC's, cell phones, the latest fashions, million channel TV, etc., lead. It is a life I myself experienced for twenty five years, and at times it is still a preferable life to me than the desensitizing one I may live today. So in a sense Bukowski `celebrates' life and not wholly -wholly- leaves us a portrait of self destruction and nihilism. This is a POSSIBLE life, he seems to say to me, this is a life I've lived and lived it the way I wanted -at least the way I saw fit for a man in my position: ugly, poor, abused, disenfranchised. And I agree.
