I felt very grown-up reading this book. The novel was a very in-your-face type, but I was surprised at how much I enjoyed it. Not only did it make me see myself as a happy girl living in a happy place, but it also made me really think of others. Yes, Chinaski was a dick, but for pretty much the entire book, I felt bad for him. There was this part of him that had this knowledge of what he thought he was worth, and it was normally not very much. If there was even a glimpse of self-worth, it dealt with how much money he had in his pocket at that time. There were times that he felt he could really be happy, but then things would only fall apart for him. Chinaski did not want pity, he did not want sympathy. His only want was to “drink a fifth”, admire beautiful women, and be left out alone. This makes me sad for him, that he never had a burning passion, a way of feeling complete. Even though he did have a kid, had chances to start a new life (and knew he did), he had no knowledge of “something to live for” or something that really turned him on. Maybe it was the women, maybe it was the satisfaction of going from one to the next, waiting for them to either leave him or die.
Either way, looking at the composition of the writing, overall, this author did a fantastic job. Just the fact that I was distressed with emotion when listening to the main character think, I shovel a huge amount of respect toward Bukowski. The character development was incredible; as many women as there were in this book, I felt like I knew them as close as a friend would.
For me, emotion is most important in well, pretty much anything one does. So I say: nice job Bukowski, nice emotion.
