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Women

Charles Bukowski

Paperback | Pages: 291 pages

Rating: 3.85 | 60128 Users | 2642 Reviews

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Title	:	Women
Author	:	Charles Bukowski
Book Format	:	Paperback
Book Edition	:	First Edition
Pages	:	Pages: 291 pages
Published	:	July 29th 2014 by Ecco (first published 1978)
Categories	:	Fiction. Classics. Novels. Literature

Narration Supposing Books Women

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Low-life writer and unrepentant alcoholic Henry Chinaski was born to survive. After decades of slacking off at low-paying dead-end jobs, blowing his cash on booze and women, and scrimping by in flea-bitten apartments, Chinaski sees his poetic star rising at last. Now, at fifty, he is reveling in his sudden rock-star life, running three hundred hangovers a year, and maintaining a sex life that would cripple Casanova.

With all of Bukowski's trademark humor and gritty, dark honesty, this 1978 follow-up to Post Office and Factotum is an uncompromising account of life on the edge.

Specify Books In Favor Of Women

Original Title:	Women
ISBN:	0061177598 (ISBN13: 9780061177590)
Edition Language:	English
Characters:	Henry Chinaski
Setting:	United States of America

Rating Appertaining To Books Women

Ratings: 3.85 From 60128 Users | 2642 Reviews

Write Up Appertaining To Books Women

I got this from a friend and read it at an age when guess I could have liked it - I didn't (like it that is, that's what a GoodReads one star is - Didn't like it). Everything that positive reviews list as reasons to like this book are the same ones that makes it utterly uninteresting to me. Never got it, had it been today there's no way I would have finished this. But I learned from the experience and won't ever pick up anything else by him.

I feel stupid getting into Charles Bukowski so much as a 43 year old guy with kids, a house, and a job. I mean, I read him in my late teens with all my friends and we romanticized his shitty SRO hotel existence. But over the last year I've either read or re-read all of his (non-poetry) books except Pulp, and I can see a depth and craft of which I wasn't aware as a kid. Women, turns out, is my favorite of the catalog.I don't get much voyeuristic pleasure from Women. You know how recently-divorced

The leading crazy lady's name is Lydia. I can relate. Charles Bukowski has a way of betraying you and making you laugh in spite of yourself; disgusting you and then melting your heart with one tender and insightful paragraph you do not expect, at a moment that doesn't seem appropriate in context to that which he is speaking. It is impossible to love Bukowski and impossible not to love him. This book is just a delight, if you can absorb it. He is mushy soft at his core.

I know I am not the only one who has a love and hate relationship with Bukowski. Some said he was their hero. I can understand you, though. Partly because he was so relatable-in a sense that my (our) feelings and thoughts were articulated and was better put into words in his writings. In my age, I have no idea what I'm doing and Bukowski made me feel that it is okay to feel so. To hate my job. To hate my past lovers. To feel lazy. To feel lonely. To feel unsatisfied. To feel degraded just

How do I rate a book on here with 6 stars?When I was a teenager this book was the first dirty novel I read and it was the point I became obsessed with Bukowski. Now reading this many years later I still love this book, it still feels really dirty too. Bukowski is the ultimate rock-star of the poetry world and this book is the proof.Bukowski will shag any woman who is up for it, he'll treat them mean and in some cases drive them insane, he makes mistakes and doesn't learn from them cos he doesn't

I think it was more of a personal challenge to actually finish the book. I wanted to throw it away every time I opened it, but I always hoped that maybe, maybe there was a good part coming. Could have spent the money on a decent lunch instead of this.The main character spends so much time describing the sexual encounters and his drunken stupor that you feel no remorse, no sentiment from him, no nothing. Just a child that sees a new toy and damn sure he's going to get it and play with it, then

Misogyny, misogyny, misogyny....that's all everyone sees. Few see the true character of Hank, only the brutal sexual descriptions, the words beginning with "C" and his practice of "mounting" whatever drunken soul may have wandered into his piss-stained bed. This is one of the most American novels I have ever read. It tells the story of the common man, overburdened by the memories of his abusive youth, beleagured by his own unsightly appearance and wallowing in the depths of alcoholism. Few feel