But not for women...
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I completely agree with the previous reviewer who said that this book has no heart and no tenderness. It is maybe the point that the narrator is repulsive and gross and treats women just like slabs of meat but it doesn't make for enjoyable reading, not to me, and the way the women behave is so untrue to life. You might get one woman like that, but not a whole string of them. And for a book about sex it's one hundred per cent unsexy. Our hero spends his life drinking and then vomiting. I just didn't see the point in writing, or reading a book like this. I honestly wouldn't bother. Sorry.
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Don't have the heart to give it three stars
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I know Bukowski fans are going to be upset with me, but I couldn't warm to this book, the same way I couldn't warm to TROPIC OF CANCER. It was just too raw and "down" for my taste. Still, I read it from cover to cover.
Bukowski's style is certainly unique and I have to admit I was drawn in, but some of the terms and descriptions were too much for me. Perhaps I was expecting more a "Hunter Thompson" type of book, with an edge but also some dash of flippancy. True, there is humour in WOMEN, but it was just a bit too edgy for my taste---and I've read NAKED LUNCH!
What I find infinitely more fascinating than Bukowski's books, is the man himself, though I realize you can't really separate the two of them. The man seems to actually have more of a following in the UK than in his own country, and I find this fascinating. If anyone can recommend a bio, please do. Again, I realize a lot of his work (okay, all of it) is terribly autobiographical, but I'd like to read the full-out other person's point of view on the man.
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Graphic
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This is one of the more graphic Bukowski novels and, at times, can get repetitive - but still his mixture of hatred and warmth makes it another highly readable novel.
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Sorry Buko but a bit... boring
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I popped my Bukowski cherry with Post Office and was enthralled, and my enchantment lasted through Ham on Rye, his short story collections, Pulp and some poetry collections. Most recently I read the excellent biography Charles Bukowski: Locked in the Arms of a Crazy Life. It's not like I am unfamiliar with the themes and style of Mr B is what I'm saying. But Women really turned me off. It's the emptiness I guess. Even in Post Office, even when he's at his lowest ebb, there's a vitality there which crackles and a tenderness, a human quality which is touching. That is absent in Women, and the drunk but interesting Chinaski is now the drunk but boring man you wish would go away and stop droning on. Same same same. Also the sheer amount of conquests is unbelievable. Maybe some women are drawn to fat ugly men with good legs, a jaded world view and serious drink problem. Even the lack of respect he habitually shows for most of these women is shallow and so unbelievable (though the women most of the time don't set themselves up for respect). It's like my uncle trying to be sexy and cool (no offence uncle m!) and failing miserably. There is no depth to any of it, no passion, no truth (and as a poet you need truth), no insight. I'm constantly reminded of a grumpy old man who wrinkles his nose at dirt and wishes to keep his hands clean - a trouser folder. This is especially true after reading the biography and accessing a clearer picture of the real Bukowski.
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Classic Buk
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The direct narrative style and the great stories ring true as I laughed out loud and commiserated with Chinaski through his numerous affairs. Not much for plot, but there is a story of growth and learning through the saga on the unmasterable subject (for men) of women.
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