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Ausencia del héroe
Tras publicar más de cincuenta libros en vida, muchos relatos y artículos importantes de Bukowski continúan dispersos o inéditos. Este volumen es una antología de esta obra desperdigada. Empezando por los primeros cuentos que publicó en revistas a finales de la década de 1940, el libro brinda al lector un viaje contracultural por las batallas literarias de los cincuenta, la agitación psicodélica de los sesenta, los placeres narcisistas de los setenta y la distopía reaganista de los ochenta. Además, ofrece crónicas de sus infames recitales públicos, reseñas de su propia obra, desternillantes entregas de su columna en la prensa y otras joyas recién descubiertas. Y también también tiene cabida el otro Bukowski: un crítico literario astuto y excéntrico, desde su propio «Manifiesto» hasta sus idiosincrásicas valoraciones de Allen Ginsberg, Robert Creeley...
336 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2010
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About the author
Charles Bukowski
853 books30k followersHenry Charles Bukowski (born as Heinrich Karl Bukowski) was a German-born American poet, novelist and short story writer. His writing was influenced by the social, cultural and economic ambience of his home city of Los Angeles.It is marked by an emphasis on the ordinary lives of poor Americans, the act of writing, alcohol, relationships with women and the drudgery of work. Bukowski wrote thousands of poems, hundreds of short stories and six novels, eventually publishing over sixty books
Charles Bukowski was the only child of an American soldier and a German mother. At the age of three, he came with his family to the United States and grew up in Los Angeles. He attended Los Angeles City College from 1939 to 1941, then left school and moved to New York City to become a writer. His lack of publishing success at this time caused him to give up writing in 1946 and spurred a ten-year stint of heavy drinking. After he developed a bleeding ulcer, he decided to take up writing again. He worked a wide range of jobs to support his writing, including dishwasher, truck driver and loader, mail carrier, guard, gas station attendant, stock boy, warehouse worker, shipping clerk, post office clerk, parking lot attendant, Red Cross orderly, and elevator operator. He also worked in a dog biscuit factory, a slaughterhouse, a cake and cookie factory, and he hung posters in New York City subways.
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 (1994), Screams from the Balcony (1993), and The Last Night of the Earth Poems (1992).
He died of leukemia in San Pedro on March 9, 1994.
Charles Bukowski was the only child of an American soldier and a German mother. At the age of three, he came with his family to the United States and grew up in Los Angeles. He attended Los Angeles City College from 1939 to 1941, then left school and moved to New York City to become a writer. His lack of publishing success at this time caused him to give up writing in 1946 and spurred a ten-year stint of heavy drinking. After he developed a bleeding ulcer, he decided to take up writing again. He worked a wide range of jobs to support his writing, including dishwasher, truck driver and loader, mail carrier, guard, gas station attendant, stock boy, warehouse worker, shipping clerk, post office clerk, parking lot attendant, Red Cross orderly, and elevator operator. He also worked in a dog biscuit factory, a slaughterhouse, a cake and cookie factory, and he hung posters in New York City subways.
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 (1994), Screams from the Balcony (1993), and The Last Night of the Earth Poems (1992).
He died of leukemia in San Pedro on March 9, 1994.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 94 reviews
April 19, 2025
Great title, great book. Unlike so many posthumous releases, which either scrape the bottom of the barrel or just trot out more of the same, this one gives the lie to all those critics who came to regard Buk as a one-trick pony while he was still alive. Plenty of previously unpublished selections here, many of which will surprise ardent admirers of the dirty old man, while at the same time reminding us why we came to love him in the first place.
July 6, 2012
Bukowski su Bukowski.
Il massimo è verso la fine. Quando Bukowski si autorecensisce.
Ecco, ora io da lettore impavido ma stucchevole, voglio fare come Bukowski e svelarvi un segreto di pulcinella che molti sanno e pochi ammettono.
Quindi prendo le distanze da me stesso e mi osservo in modo distaccato e oggettivo mentre leggiucchio una poesia e ne memorizzo un brano.
E mi accorgo che non ho fatto altro che leggere romanzi e poesie
solo per portarmi a letto le ragazze.
Funziona.
Consigliato.
Checché ne dicano qui o altrove..
Il massimo è verso la fine. Quando Bukowski si autorecensisce.
Ecco, ora io da lettore impavido ma stucchevole, voglio fare come Bukowski e svelarvi un segreto di pulcinella che molti sanno e pochi ammettono.
Quindi prendo le distanze da me stesso e mi osservo in modo distaccato e oggettivo mentre leggiucchio una poesia e ne memorizzo un brano.
E mi accorgo che non ho fatto altro che leggere romanzi e poesie
solo per portarmi a letto le ragazze.
Funziona.
Consigliato.
Checché ne dicano qui o altrove..
June 10, 2014
OK, I don't know if this book, published posthumously, is actually "amazing", but IMHO Charles Buskowski, aka the Buk, IS amazing. Every time I re-read Bukowski, I am amazed. The Buk was brilliant, just f'ng brilliant. I absolutely agree with his point of view. How can I not love someone who articulates my own feelings and perceptions of this world? I meet too many Bukowksi fans who first and foremost think of him as a drunk, fans who are f'ing drunks themselves, because they want to be Bukowskians. Fools. Someone once told me that supposedly Oscar Wilde said, "All poets are drunks, but not all drunks are poets." So, these fools I have met in my life, in person or virtually (aka on-line), love beer, getting drunk, and they write what they call poetry, sad, boring sh.t they call poetry. Oh, but geeze, they are so excited and full of life, full of enthusiasm, with lots of friends, and so full of sh.t. Some of them mean well, though, and are passionate, so I can't help but have a heart for them, even if I don't think they are much as poets. But judging poetry, really, is personal taste and expectations, at the end of the day. I love poetry "that makes the top of my head feel as if it were physically removed", as Dickinson expressed it. I hope I got that quote right; I didn't double-check, but it's more or less what she said/wrote, anyway. What she is saying, Dickinson, I mean, is that she loved poetry that "blew her mind". That's exactly how I feel about it. Poetry, short stories, any kind of writing, if it "blows my mind", well, hell, I love it. And the Buk blows my mind. It just happens that most my fave writers (well, artists of any kind) are, or were, drunks. (It's never been said, but it wouldn't surprise me if Dickinson was a "wine-ah" herself. I mean, she might've often indulged in a glass or two or three of wine, red wine. Shoot, surely...) My fave artists are/were drunks or drug addicts. Addicts of some type. Even sex addicts. But I don't love drunks, and drug addicts, or sex addicts per se. Just because you are a drunk, or a drug addict, or a sex addict, doesn't mean you are a genius. What I love is genius and art. It's kind of a thing about artists, I mean, Great Artists. They have issues, and, well, they anesthetize themselves. They are extraordinarily sensitive people, which is what makes them express themselves through art. But not all art is a work of genius, and not all artists are genius. The ordinary person doesn't have "it", including some very intelligent people. Genius is something special. It's god-given, so to speak. People are just born with it. As was the Buk. I loved reading this collection of stories and essays written by the brilliant Charles Bukowski, the Buk, a genius.
September 24, 2020
Scrivere e bere, bere e scrivere
Un ventaglio di racconti inediti che abbracciano gli anni dal 1944 al 1992, un ventaglio molto efficace per comprendere un autore che riflette sull'arte dello scrivere - e della vita, per lui la stessa cosa -, che non si tira indietro di fronte alle eminenze grigie della letteratura e che ha ben chiaro cosa vuol diventare, costi quel che costi.
Si ride, perché Bukowski sa essere scanzonato anche nelle situazioni più imbarazzanti.
Ci si scandalizza, ma sempre col sorriso, di fronte alle goliardiche imprese sessuali di Bukowski.
Ma si riflette, anche, perché quando lima via l'irriverenza, e grazie alla sua capacità di essere sempre diretto, Bukowski riesce ad avvicinarsi a quelle ombre che tutti abbiamo e le dirada con quel mezzo sorriso meno stupido di quanto non voglia farci credere.
Bukowski è così, ti insegna mentre ti fotte.
Un ventaglio di racconti inediti che abbracciano gli anni dal 1944 al 1992, un ventaglio molto efficace per comprendere un autore che riflette sull'arte dello scrivere - e della vita, per lui la stessa cosa -, che non si tira indietro di fronte alle eminenze grigie della letteratura e che ha ben chiaro cosa vuol diventare, costi quel che costi.
Si ride, perché Bukowski sa essere scanzonato anche nelle situazioni più imbarazzanti.
Ci si scandalizza, ma sempre col sorriso, di fronte alle goliardiche imprese sessuali di Bukowski.
Ma si riflette, anche, perché quando lima via l'irriverenza, e grazie alla sua capacità di essere sempre diretto, Bukowski riesce ad avvicinarsi a quelle ombre che tutti abbiamo e le dirada con quel mezzo sorriso meno stupido di quanto non voglia farci credere.
Bukowski è così, ti insegna mentre ti fotte.
November 10, 2015
"Η ανθρωπότητα έχει τόσες πολλές αδυναμίες, αλλά δύο απ'αυτές παραμένουν ορόσημο από παλιά: η ανικανότητα να κινείται στο παρόν και η παντελής απουσία της λογικής να υλοποιεί τις υποσχέσεις της"
January 24, 2019
I never know how to categorise Bukowski’s prose because it’s technically semi–autobiographical and therefore counts as both fiction and non-fiction. I also always feel like it’s important to say that Bukowski’s work always makes me think about separating the art from the artist. He wasn’t the best of guys, but his work is interesting.
Absence of the Hero isn’t my favourite of Bukowski’s collections, but mainly because it doesn’t really feel cohesive. It’s like it doesn’t know what it’s trying to be, and while I enjoyed the majority of the essays and short stories in here, there was no real cohesion and I didn’t understand why they picked those particular stories over others.
Absence of the Hero isn’t my favourite of Bukowski’s collections, but mainly because it doesn’t really feel cohesive. It’s like it doesn’t know what it’s trying to be, and while I enjoyed the majority of the essays and short stories in here, there was no real cohesion and I didn’t understand why they picked those particular stories over others.
I also tend to prefer Bukowski’s poetry over his prose and so maybe that has something to do with it. Still, I’d recommend picking up something like Ham On Rye or Post Office if you’re new to him, and saving this until you’re a seasoned fan. And by that point, you’ll probably have read half of the stories that are in the collection anyway.
And yet despite all of that, I enjoyed it. Bukowski’s writing always gets me thinking, and I particularly like the way that he tackles complex topics with simple language. The work here is pretty typical of Bukowski’s work overall, but I don’t think it’s the best introduction. Go ahead and make of that what you will, but do be sure to check out some of Bukowski’s work if you haven’t already. He’s a genius.
Absence of the Hero isn’t my favourite of Bukowski’s collections, but mainly because it doesn’t really feel cohesive. It’s like it doesn’t know what it’s trying to be, and while I enjoyed the majority of the essays and short stories in here, there was no real cohesion and I didn’t understand why they picked those particular stories over others.
Absence of the Hero isn’t my favourite of Bukowski’s collections, but mainly because it doesn’t really feel cohesive. It’s like it doesn’t know what it’s trying to be, and while I enjoyed the majority of the essays and short stories in here, there was no real cohesion and I didn’t understand why they picked those particular stories over others.
I also tend to prefer Bukowski’s poetry over his prose and so maybe that has something to do with it. Still, I’d recommend picking up something like Ham On Rye or Post Office if you’re new to him, and saving this until you’re a seasoned fan. And by that point, you’ll probably have read half of the stories that are in the collection anyway.
And yet despite all of that, I enjoyed it. Bukowski’s writing always gets me thinking, and I particularly like the way that he tackles complex topics with simple language. The work here is pretty typical of Bukowski’s work overall, but I don’t think it’s the best introduction. Go ahead and make of that what you will, but do be sure to check out some of Bukowski’s work if you haven’t already. He’s a genius.
August 14, 2024
Lo que más admiro y me atrae de Bukowski es que no le teme a la hoja en blanco. No le teme al error, simplemente porque no busca cumplir las expectativas de nadie. Se hubiese reído de esta generación llena de cobardes, con pánico visceral al fracaso, a siquiera aventurarse a trazar esa primera línea en el lienzo, por miedo a que salga torcida. Y me incluyo absolutamente en esa declaración anterior.
En esta entrega hay relatos imbatibles, los hay mediocres, hay críticas literarias que bordean lo incomprensible, con palabras que, sospecho, las inventó en el instante. Pero, como suelo decir como un mantra, el lenguaje es mutable, así que nuevamente admiro aquella intrépida proeza.
Si lees sus novelas y recopilatorios de ensayos y relatos te encontrarás con las mismas historias, rememoradas en distintas etapas de su vida, con otras palabras, pero manteniendo la misma esencia, mismo argumento. No hay prueba más fehaciente de que el hombre ha vivido.
Qué envidia me dan a veces sus andanzas desinteresadas, un día lunes para él es uno en diez años para un mortal como yo, como nosotros. La habilidad humana por excelencia que encabeza la lista siempre será la comunicación. Nada se le compara a una buena narración, independiente del envoltorio en el que se entregue.
En esta entrega hay relatos imbatibles, los hay mediocres, hay críticas literarias que bordean lo incomprensible, con palabras que, sospecho, las inventó en el instante. Pero, como suelo decir como un mantra, el lenguaje es mutable, así que nuevamente admiro aquella intrépida proeza.
Si lees sus novelas y recopilatorios de ensayos y relatos te encontrarás con las mismas historias, rememoradas en distintas etapas de su vida, con otras palabras, pero manteniendo la misma esencia, mismo argumento. No hay prueba más fehaciente de que el hombre ha vivido.
Qué envidia me dan a veces sus andanzas desinteresadas, un día lunes para él es uno en diez años para un mortal como yo, como nosotros. La habilidad humana por excelencia que encabeza la lista siempre será la comunicación. Nada se le compara a una buena narración, independiente del envoltorio en el que se entregue.
August 8, 2022
Non consiglio a nessuno per nessun particolare motivo.
Le tre stelle sono la sintesi tra una rozza, superficiale e insignificante descrizione di scene sessuali (a cui assegno 2 stelle perché rimane comunque migliore di Dikele), che non sono scritte per un pubblico di 13enni arrapate ma piuttosto sono pensate per dei 55enni in carcere per molestia sessuale, e la apprezzabile analisi e descrizione del mondo che lo circonda, colmo di miseria umana e disperazione, di artisti falliti e falliti senza arte.
Molto crudo in ogni caso . Libro totalmente sconnesso, non ho trovato il filo logico tra i capitoli (che probabilmente esiste? No?)
Le tre stelle sono la sintesi tra una rozza, superficiale e insignificante descrizione di scene sessuali (a cui assegno 2 stelle perché rimane comunque migliore di Dikele), che non sono scritte per un pubblico di 13enni arrapate ma piuttosto sono pensate per dei 55enni in carcere per molestia sessuale, e la apprezzabile analisi e descrizione del mondo che lo circonda, colmo di miseria umana e disperazione, di artisti falliti e falliti senza arte.
Molto crudo in ogni caso . Libro totalmente sconnesso, non ho trovato il filo logico tra i capitoli (che probabilmente esiste? No?)
January 4, 2013
Charles Bukowski, the ever-prolific even in death American novelist and poet, continues to satisfy the insatiable hunger of his vast cult-audience for more, not with bottom drawer rejected pieces, but with significant work that instills into his canon an ever-growing indication of his true importance as a man of letters. The posthumous shadow he casts across American lit only continues to loom larger with each passing year. Editor David Calonne has ably compiled 39 previously-uncollected stories and essays spanning the years 1946 to 1992. The first volume, Portions From A Wine-stained Notebook (2008) demonstrates the journalist in Bukowski. He conjures the best qualities of a newsman pulling together slices-of-life, summoning his readers into a ragtag world of losers, wanna-be’s, believers and doubters, girlfriends and whores, and the ghost of his father that seems to constantly appear over his shoulder. Bukowski’s aim is unerring and he never wastes ammo, always making his point with compact, bullseye-hitting sentences that explode in the brain like verbal shrapnel.
In abundant display is the “don’t give a fuck” attitude that makes for writing of the highest caliber. He is, I would argue, an echo of Albert Camus, in that he neither glamorizes nor sympathizes with life’s absurdities. He even references Camus’ The Stranger by addressing the percussive impulsiveness of his life actions and the driving motivations of his literary sensibilities. Bukowski calls it “The Panic.” Blindly grappling with the stagnant realities of his personal life, he documents the withering flower of despair together with nebulous shades of hope, each overreaching, blotting the Bukowskian mindscape. Haunted by a tortured boyhood, Bukowski makes himself a poster boy for hard-knock living and the virtues of tough love. Like a brass-rail Existentialist or a skid-row Transcendentalist, he is candid, unblinking, leaving it to his readers to cast their own judgment about his mishaps, his drinking, his sexual appetite or his own pessimism. He is Ralph Waldo Emerson as a Dirty Old Man, not lounging in the grape-arbor of Concord, Massachusetts, but bent-over a table in an L.A. flophouse scribbling in pencil to the strains of Sibelius. Nowhere else will we read the perspective of an accused rapist caught with his pants down in front of a little girl after her mother bursts through the bathroom door. Buk makes it episodic and tragic, I mean, you wanna believe the guy! Reading poetry to a scrubwoman, he is gentle, apathetic even under the shadow of an unmitigated ex-con only interested in trying to fuck her (true to form, Buk ends up making her, after an ensuing winefest stimulates both his reading and her libido).
Bukowski’s hard-earned contempt for the old guard elites of the literary critic industrial complex is also well-represented in this collection. In “Manifesto: A Call For Our Own Critics” he declares:
"The fresh air of a new culture, the magnetism and meaning and hope, the exactness of our energies—these things haven’t, in any sense, been harnessed or realized. And until they are. . . .five or six old men, craggy and steatopygous in University chairs, will be the hierophants of our poetic universe."
Oh, to be a fly on the wall at a summit meeting between Bukowski and Harold Bloom, just to see who’s left standing. Bukowski’s embracing of Nietzsche’s dictum from Also Sprach Zarathustra �� “Of all that is written I love only what a man has written with his blood” — sorted out the pale pretenders from the steely practitioners. The collection of interviews between Barbet Schroeder and Charles Bukowski, available on DVD (The Charles Bukowski Tapes), first drove that point home to me, and this book and its previous volume confirms it. Buk never sold out, never went soft. He even sets out to defang the author that was once the scorn of respectable book shops and lending libraries across the country, Henry Miller. Miller, it seems, isn’t interesting at all to Buk: “You know, I wonder if Henry Miller is really all that good? I’ve tried to read his books on cross-country buses but when he gets into those long parts in between sex he is a very dull fellow indeed. On cross-country buses I usually have to put down my Henry Miller and try to find somebody’s legs to look up, preferably female.”
Though he always bristled at being labeled a Beat Generation writer, Buk’s unabashed references to sex, drugs and alcohol echoes portions of Jack Kerouac’s Visions of Cody, a posthumous masterpiece that Kerouac considered his one great book. This is, as Calonne points out, where these two craft-masters finally meet. Unlike Kerouac, Buk’s writing is less dependent on spontaneity than it is at drawing from a deep well of raw talent. His is an ability to describe both his outer and inner worlds with scary lucidity. And he was unflinching. In one passage, Bukoswki reaches Burroughsian heights, almost sounding like ole’ El Hombre Invisible at times: “Did I ever tell you about the 6-foot-2 sailor who got so jaded with dick he took a guy’s arms up his ass, right up to the elbow?” he wrote in the 1970 article “The Cat in the Closet.” That’s pure Buk: shocking yet undeniably true to form, and, most importantly, still bleakly hilarious 40 years later. Together with its first volume (and I hope there are more to come!), this makes absolute required reading, not only for the Bukowski fanatics, but also by jaded readers who have been stupefied into what good reading should be by our pale pretenders.
In abundant display is the “don’t give a fuck” attitude that makes for writing of the highest caliber. He is, I would argue, an echo of Albert Camus, in that he neither glamorizes nor sympathizes with life’s absurdities. He even references Camus’ The Stranger by addressing the percussive impulsiveness of his life actions and the driving motivations of his literary sensibilities. Bukowski calls it “The Panic.” Blindly grappling with the stagnant realities of his personal life, he documents the withering flower of despair together with nebulous shades of hope, each overreaching, blotting the Bukowskian mindscape. Haunted by a tortured boyhood, Bukowski makes himself a poster boy for hard-knock living and the virtues of tough love. Like a brass-rail Existentialist or a skid-row Transcendentalist, he is candid, unblinking, leaving it to his readers to cast their own judgment about his mishaps, his drinking, his sexual appetite or his own pessimism. He is Ralph Waldo Emerson as a Dirty Old Man, not lounging in the grape-arbor of Concord, Massachusetts, but bent-over a table in an L.A. flophouse scribbling in pencil to the strains of Sibelius. Nowhere else will we read the perspective of an accused rapist caught with his pants down in front of a little girl after her mother bursts through the bathroom door. Buk makes it episodic and tragic, I mean, you wanna believe the guy! Reading poetry to a scrubwoman, he is gentle, apathetic even under the shadow of an unmitigated ex-con only interested in trying to fuck her (true to form, Buk ends up making her, after an ensuing winefest stimulates both his reading and her libido).
Bukowski’s hard-earned contempt for the old guard elites of the literary critic industrial complex is also well-represented in this collection. In “Manifesto: A Call For Our Own Critics” he declares:
"The fresh air of a new culture, the magnetism and meaning and hope, the exactness of our energies—these things haven’t, in any sense, been harnessed or realized. And until they are. . . .five or six old men, craggy and steatopygous in University chairs, will be the hierophants of our poetic universe."
Oh, to be a fly on the wall at a summit meeting between Bukowski and Harold Bloom, just to see who’s left standing. Bukowski’s embracing of Nietzsche’s dictum from Also Sprach Zarathustra �� “Of all that is written I love only what a man has written with his blood” — sorted out the pale pretenders from the steely practitioners. The collection of interviews between Barbet Schroeder and Charles Bukowski, available on DVD (The Charles Bukowski Tapes), first drove that point home to me, and this book and its previous volume confirms it. Buk never sold out, never went soft. He even sets out to defang the author that was once the scorn of respectable book shops and lending libraries across the country, Henry Miller. Miller, it seems, isn’t interesting at all to Buk: “You know, I wonder if Henry Miller is really all that good? I’ve tried to read his books on cross-country buses but when he gets into those long parts in between sex he is a very dull fellow indeed. On cross-country buses I usually have to put down my Henry Miller and try to find somebody’s legs to look up, preferably female.”
Though he always bristled at being labeled a Beat Generation writer, Buk’s unabashed references to sex, drugs and alcohol echoes portions of Jack Kerouac’s Visions of Cody, a posthumous masterpiece that Kerouac considered his one great book. This is, as Calonne points out, where these two craft-masters finally meet. Unlike Kerouac, Buk’s writing is less dependent on spontaneity than it is at drawing from a deep well of raw talent. His is an ability to describe both his outer and inner worlds with scary lucidity. And he was unflinching. In one passage, Bukoswki reaches Burroughsian heights, almost sounding like ole’ El Hombre Invisible at times: “Did I ever tell you about the 6-foot-2 sailor who got so jaded with dick he took a guy’s arms up his ass, right up to the elbow?” he wrote in the 1970 article “The Cat in the Closet.” That’s pure Buk: shocking yet undeniably true to form, and, most importantly, still bleakly hilarious 40 years later. Together with its first volume (and I hope there are more to come!), this makes absolute required reading, not only for the Bukowski fanatics, but also by jaded readers who have been stupefied into what good reading should be by our pale pretenders.
April 18, 2019
Wow! This collection kicked off with a bang of a story and ended on a new personal favorite Bukowski piece. There were a few pieces that I didn't care for, mostly the ones where he's reviewing or discussing other writers. Highly recommended to any Bukowski fan.
January 16, 2026
Non sapevo di essere uno di loro. E non mi sento tutt’ora uno di loro. O forse sì. Non so come si sentano. Credo funzioni così: un attimo prima te ne vai in giro come una persona normale e di colpo, tu, proprio tu, vieni accusato di essere uno stupratore, un aggressore, un violentatore e la gente dappertutto apre i giornali e legge di te. Sì, lo devo ammettere, sono stato in un sacco di tribunali. Ma quasi sempre con accuse di ubriachezza e vagabondaggio. Era ubriaco? – Ok, colpevole. Vagabondava? – Idem, ok, colpevole. Non ti chiedono perché eri ubriaco o perché vagabondavi. È come se fossi considerato colpevole perché hai i capelli castani o otto dita e due pollici. Ok, mi accusano di essere uno stupratore. Un aggressore. Un violentatore. Infatti mi hanno accusato di due capi di imputazione per stupro, molestie su minore, effrazione e chi più ne ha più ne metta...
Charles Bukowski è stato un autore estremamente prolifico non solo per convenienza (o, soprattutto nei primi anni, sopravvivenza) ma anche per la passione con cui ha praticato l’atto stesso della scrittura, vissuta come un vizio, una necessità, un bisogno vitale per fronteggiare le difficoltà dell’esistenza. Dopo Azzeccare i cavalli vincenti, uscita nel 2013, non è stato difficile per Feltrinelli pubblicare una nuova antologia di inediti che potesse conservare lo spirito, la forza e la qualità dei testi a cui Hank ha sempre abituato, senza raschiare il fondo del barile. Scrivo poesie solo per portarmi a letto le ragazze raccoglie trentanove scritti di vario tipo pubblicati da Bukowski tra i 1944 e il 1992 su riviste e free press. Racconti più e meno brevi, più e meno scandalosi, confessioni, critiche letterarie, giudizi su editori e altri scrittori, semplici rigetti di scrittura, che per alcune ore colmeranno il senso di vuoto lasciato da uno dei più grandi autori del ‘900.
Charles Bukowski è stato un autore estremamente prolifico non solo per convenienza (o, soprattutto nei primi anni, sopravvivenza) ma anche per la passione con cui ha praticato l’atto stesso della scrittura, vissuta come un vizio, una necessità, un bisogno vitale per fronteggiare le difficoltà dell’esistenza. Dopo Azzeccare i cavalli vincenti, uscita nel 2013, non è stato difficile per Feltrinelli pubblicare una nuova antologia di inediti che potesse conservare lo spirito, la forza e la qualità dei testi a cui Hank ha sempre abituato, senza raschiare il fondo del barile. Scrivo poesie solo per portarmi a letto le ragazze raccoglie trentanove scritti di vario tipo pubblicati da Bukowski tra i 1944 e il 1992 su riviste e free press. Racconti più e meno brevi, più e meno scandalosi, confessioni, critiche letterarie, giudizi su editori e altri scrittori, semplici rigetti di scrittura, che per alcune ore colmeranno il senso di vuoto lasciato da uno dei più grandi autori del ‘900.
February 1, 2023
l’ho amato!! il primo libro che leggo di bukowski. È come me lo aspettavo, molto esplicito, quindi lo consiglierei dal 15 anni in su. Mi aspettavo però che fosse un romanzo, invece è una raccolta di storie. Comunque prenderò sicuramente un altro dei suoi libri perché mi ha tenuta incollata alle pagine
May 15, 2024
A parer mio non è paragonabile a "storie di ordinaria follia" che ho adorato dall'inizio alla fine, ma comunque riesce a farsi apprezzare molto. Alcuni racconti li ho trovati più interessanti di altri e li ho letti in pochi minuti mentre altri, si ci ho messo anche li pochi minuti, ma avevo la sensazione di averci messo delle ore.
September 4, 2024
Carino, un racconto leggero che vede al centro l’umorismo e la schiettezza di Bukowsky, a volte forse fin troppo
September 3, 2018
I cant believe there is still Bukowski to discover and love. I just learned some things about the human condition and isn't that what great art is about? (not for the faint of heart)
May 11, 2016
Un Bukowski minore, ma pur sempre un Bukowski !
Dieci racconti che abbracciano tutta la sua vita artistica, dai primi lavori degli anni '40 passando per i successi degli anni '70 - '80 e fino agli ultimi componimenti dei primi anni '90.
Ritroviamo tutto quello che ci piace di Bukowski, alcol sesso e amore, ippodromi e scommesse, poesia e letteratura, macchine da scrivere e musica classica a tarda notte, auto scassate, reading turbolenti, situazioni bizzarre, e tutto questo insieme per affrontare le durezze della vita, con sensibilità ironia e tenerezza, e farcela.
Dieci racconti che abbracciano tutta la sua vita artistica, dai primi lavori degli anni '40 passando per i successi degli anni '70 - '80 e fino agli ultimi componimenti dei primi anni '90.
Ritroviamo tutto quello che ci piace di Bukowski, alcol sesso e amore, ippodromi e scommesse, poesia e letteratura, macchine da scrivere e musica classica a tarda notte, auto scassate, reading turbolenti, situazioni bizzarre, e tutto questo insieme per affrontare le durezze della vita, con sensibilità ironia e tenerezza, e farcela.
November 18, 2017
Lo califico como 5 porque es esencial; para mi un libro esencial es el que permite que una persona ajena a un escritor lo conozca no a fondo, pero que al menos permita que el terreno no sea del todo insondable.
Tiene un poco de todo, de la narrativa de la lascivia de Mujeres, de lo duro y crudo de la vida de Tales of ordinary madness, de la mala racha en la existencia prosáica de Hijo de Satanás. Muy aparte de que también se arma de un par de opiniones muy personales de Hank.
Uno de los relatos que te dejan con la boca abierta por la crueldad es "Cristo con salsa barbacoa".
Tiene un poco de todo, de la narrativa de la lascivia de Mujeres, de lo duro y crudo de la vida de Tales of ordinary madness, de la mala racha en la existencia prosáica de Hijo de Satanás. Muy aparte de que también se arma de un par de opiniones muy personales de Hank.
Uno de los relatos que te dejan con la boca abierta por la crueldad es "Cristo con salsa barbacoa".
August 26, 2018
Por supuesto que no es lo mejor de Bukowski. Pero, si estás aburrido de leer a los otros escritores pretenciosos, este libro te sirve para entender el crecimiento de Charles. Sus primeros textos, donde todavía no era Chinaski. Este libro tiene textos de 1946 a 1992, casi toda su vida. Algunos son muy buenos, otros aburren, pero de todos se sacan una o dos buenas ideas.
Que te puedo decir? Es el mejor escritor de todos. Sus libros siempre valen la pena
Que te puedo decir? Es el mejor escritor de todos. Sus libros siempre valen la pena
January 20, 2014
Sí, me encanta Bukowski.
Aquí, aunque todo es material inédito, nos reencontramos con el viejo Hank y sus habituales borracheras y escenas sexuales explícitas. Además interesantes ensayos que vuelven a poner de manifiesto que había mucho de leyenda detrás de su mala fama.
Aquí, aunque todo es material inédito, nos reencontramos con el viejo Hank y sus habituales borracheras y escenas sexuales explícitas. Además interesantes ensayos que vuelven a poner de manifiesto que había mucho de leyenda detrás de su mala fama.
April 21, 2015
La cosa bella di Bukowski è che ti fa venire voglia di scrivere.
March 10, 2025
💭-“На онези, които ме обвиняват, казвам, хайде, обви-нявайте ме; на хвалещите ме казвам, хайде, хвалете ме; на жената, която ме обича, хайде, обичай ме; на Марина казвам, хайде, стани прекрасна жена; на колата си казвам, хайде, продължавай да вървиш, за да не се налага да си купувам нова; а на пишещата си машина казвам, хайде, кажи ми повече неща, още и още неща, различни неща; хайде, давай, хайде, хайде...”
- “Отсъствието на героя” съдържа едни от най-знаменитите разкази на Чарлс Буковски. Буковски е циник, мръсник, алкохолик, вулгарен поет, писател, но точно в това му е чара- истински, непоклатим, революционер на “без цензура” както тогава, така и в днешно време.
- Тук отново Буковски разкрива своите преживявания като писател. Честата употреба на алкохол(повече бира), мотивацията му за писане, смятана на жилищата всеки път, защото винаги си оставя вратата отворена и стават купони с утайките на Холивуд . Но най-много има афинитет към жените. В един от разказите си, “Христос с барбекю сос”, срещаме група канибали, които си търсят поредната жертва. В почти всеки разказ се споменава за преживяванията му с жени(по-голямата част вярвам, че са истина), също така случки с маймуна, с негови приятели, които умират, друсат, а бе един мизерен живот, чрез който Буковски черпи мотивация да твори изкуство, което го прави един от най-циничните и вулгарни автори. И винаги оправдава очакванията ми. Винаги може да очаквате най-непредвидимите неща в книгите му. Най-запомнящите се разкази от книгата са:”Побойникът”, “Нашественикът”, “Отсъствието на героя” ,”Котката в шкафа” и “Звук и страст”.
- Само да вметна, че според мен книгите си имат възрастово ограничение, а тази е 18+. Има думи, случки, описания и действия, които са доста пиперливи, но и смешни понякога. Разкрива ни цялата му живителна линия по времето, когато живее в Холивуд чрез хумор, много алкохол, много леки жени, изцепки и художествена проза, която ще ви плени. Нямам търпение да прочета останалите ��у книги.
Наздраве,
Буковски.🍻
- “Отсъствието на героя” съдържа едни от най-знаменитите разкази на Чарлс Буковски. Буковски е циник, мръсник, алкохолик, вулгарен поет, писател, но точно в това му е чара- истински, непоклатим, революционер на “без цензура” както тогава, така и в днешно време.
- Тук отново Буковски разкрива своите преживявания като писател. Честата употреба на алкохол(повече бира), мотивацията му за писане, смятана на жилищата всеки път, защото винаги си оставя вратата отворена и стават купони с утайките на Холивуд . Но най-много има афинитет към жените. В един от разказите си, “Христос с барбекю сос”, срещаме група канибали, които си търсят поредната жертва. В почти всеки разказ се споменава за преживяванията му с жени(по-голямата част вярвам, че са истина), също така случки с маймуна, с негови приятели, които умират, друсат, а бе един мизерен живот, чрез който Буковски черпи мотивация да твори изкуство, което го прави един от най-циничните и вулгарни автори. И винаги оправдава очакванията ми. Винаги може да очаквате най-непредвидимите неща в книгите му. Най-запомнящите се разкази от книгата са:”Побойникът”, “Нашественикът”, “Отсъствието на героя” ,”Котката в шкафа” и “Звук и страст”.
- Само да вметна, че според мен книгите си имат възрастово ограничение, а тази е 18+. Има думи, случки, описания и действия, които са доста пиперливи, но и смешни понякога. Разкрива ни цялата му живителна линия по времето, когато живее в Холивуд чрез хумор, много алкохол, много леки жени, изцепки и художествена проза, която ще ви плени. Нямам търпение да прочета останалите ��у книги.
Наздраве,
Буковски.🍻
May 16, 2022
Es claro que Charles Bukowski tiene un estilo bastante peculiar. Más allá de que Bukowski sea un gran escritor, ya que muchos lo son, su verdadero don está en su atrevimiento para escribir sin miedo a la crudeza. Él mismo lo reconoce en sus escritos. Reconoce, además, que le sorprende lo mucho que gustan al público sus crudezas aun cuando no son verdaderamente lo que a él le gusta escribir, siendo de su preferencia escribir poesía, por ejemplo. Dice en su relato El Don Juan del este de Hollywood:
"Con el alquiler más barato tenía oportunidad de escribir algún poema. Estaba harto de escribir relatos de polvos, aunque lo s escribía mejor que nadie. (...) Los poemas podía escribirlos como me diera la gana porque nadie pagaba por la poesía."
El autor es reconocido, sin embargo, principalmente por tales relatos. Él sabía que los escritores (y la gente en general) tienen este miedo irracional a escribir crudezas como las suyas, especie de tabú. Él, a quien no le importaba nada de lo que la gente piense de si, aprovecha esto al máximo.
Ausencia de héroe permite ver a la persona detrás del famoso Bukowski. Se describe a sí mismo como sentimental y muestra una faceta diferente a la que uno imaginaría de la simple lectura de sus obras más famosas.
Recomiendo la lectura del libro a las personas que les interese conocer más acerca de Bukowski.
"Con el alquiler más barato tenía oportunidad de escribir algún poema. Estaba harto de escribir relatos de polvos, aunque lo s escribía mejor que nadie. (...) Los poemas podía escribirlos como me diera la gana porque nadie pagaba por la poesía."
El autor es reconocido, sin embargo, principalmente por tales relatos. Él sabía que los escritores (y la gente en general) tienen este miedo irracional a escribir crudezas como las suyas, especie de tabú. Él, a quien no le importaba nada de lo que la gente piense de si, aprovecha esto al máximo.
Ausencia de héroe permite ver a la persona detrás del famoso Bukowski. Se describe a sí mismo como sentimental y muestra una faceta diferente a la que uno imaginaría de la simple lectura de sus obras más famosas.
Recomiendo la lectura del libro a las personas que les interese conocer más acerca de Bukowski.
January 29, 2023
Stari Buk stvarno ne stari - uvijek uspije izmamiti osmijeh, ubaciti pritom kritiku društva, književne scene, politike, ljudi općenito... i ostati mrtav hladan, ispijajući svoje pivo iza zavjese dima. Rani tekstovi nisu me toliko privukli, no lijepo se uklapaju u tijek piščevog sazrijevanja, a kolumne Zabilješke starog pokvarenjaka, kojih se nekoliko nalazi i u ovoj zbirci, su mi potpuni vrh njegovog stvaralaštva.
Novu (čitalačku) godinu najljepše je započeti u društvu starog pokvarenjaka Hanka!
Više dobrih ljudi upoznao sam po zatvorima, hladnjačama za pijance, u tvornicama, na trkalištima negoli na satovima engleskog, satovima umjetnosti ili među drugim piscima koji su mi kucali na vrata. Samo zato jer netko radi s umjetničkom formom, to ga nužno ne opravdava niti čini valjanim. Iz istog razloga ne bi trebalo bez potrebe uzdizati ni svećenike, patuljke ili ljudi bez nogu i kurve.
Novu (čitalačku) godinu najljepše je započeti u društvu starog pokvarenjaka Hanka!
September 10, 2025
Interesting collection of stories and articles I have probably read before in another collection. Disappointingly, I mistakenly thought this was a book of poetry at my local library. No such luck.
Bukowski has some ideas but does not really go anywhere with them. He was a drunk and thinker, but he does not have much to say besides his typical beat and later gonzo style of dismissiveness.
He created a character in Henry Chinaski many blue collar workers could relate to, but so what? As a storyteller, he could not even get past his reliance on the first person pronoun. To beginner writers, Bukowski is a revelation, to more established writers, praise for his work induces groans and eye rolls.
Poet Walt Whitman may have been exuberant in his freedom, but his poems have verse in them. Bukowski writes in declarations and prose, lacks discipline and refinement, and clings to broads who are too beautiful for an old mutt that just wants to lay down.
Maybe next time, Charles...
🚬
Bukowski has some ideas but does not really go anywhere with them. He was a drunk and thinker, but he does not have much to say besides his typical beat and later gonzo style of dismissiveness.
He created a character in Henry Chinaski many blue collar workers could relate to, but so what? As a storyteller, he could not even get past his reliance on the first person pronoun. To beginner writers, Bukowski is a revelation, to more established writers, praise for his work induces groans and eye rolls.
Poet Walt Whitman may have been exuberant in his freedom, but his poems have verse in them. Bukowski writes in declarations and prose, lacks discipline and refinement, and clings to broads who are too beautiful for an old mutt that just wants to lay down.
Maybe next time, Charles...
🚬
December 17, 2024
Volim underground scenu kojoj pripadaju neki od ovih tekstova, tako da sam uživala u čitanju eseja, kolumni i dr. tekstova nastalih u rasponu od 1940.-ih do 1990.-ih.
Biografski elementi u pojedinim pričama ("Uvijek je bolje ako pisac stvarno iskusi materijal za svoje tekstove," u: Henry Miller živi u četvrti bogatuna, a ja u četvrti propalica, i dalje pišući o s*ksu), njegov pogled na književnost koji se uvelike razlikovao od mainstreama ondašnje književne scene.
Bez filtera, direktan i iskren - prepoznatljive crte njegova stila pisanja. Suprotstavlja se kapitalizmu, potrošačkoj kulturi ("Promatrao sam ljude koji su prolazili u svojim automobilima, .. posjedujući jedni druge, posjedujući ono što su već posjedovali," u: Krik i strast).
Biografski elementi u pojedinim pričama ("Uvijek je bolje ako pisac stvarno iskusi materijal za svoje tekstove," u: Henry Miller živi u četvrti bogatuna, a ja u četvrti propalica, i dalje pišući o s*ksu), njegov pogled na književnost koji se uvelike razlikovao od mainstreama ondašnje književne scene.
Bez filtera, direktan i iskren - prepoznatljive crte njegova stila pisanja. Suprotstavlja se kapitalizmu, potrošačkoj kulturi ("Promatrao sam ljude koji su prolazili u svojim automobilima, .. posjedujući jedni druge, posjedujući ono što su već posjedovali," u: Krik i strast).
April 29, 2023
Το βιβλίο αποτελείται κυριως από ακυκλοφόρητα κείμενα ,από κάποια άρθρα του Μπουκόφσκι στην προσωπική του στήλη καθώς και κείμενα από άλλες εφημερίδες. Εκδόθηκε μετά θανάτων του συγγραφέα,δεν μπορεί να χαρακτηριστεί ως μια συλλογή απο ποιοτικά του έργα και πολύ πιθανόν να μην ενέκρινε την έκδοση του και ο ίδιος.Πολλές από τις ιστορίες θα μπορούσαν να χαρακτηριστουν ανοστες και ελάσσονος ενδιαφέροντος,τα κείμενα στα οποία ο Μπουκόφσκι ασκει κριτική σε άλλους συγγραφείς με ξένισαν πάρα πολύ,δεν του ταιριάζει αυτός ο τρόπος γραφής καθώς και το συγκεκριμένο ύφος .Τέλος υπάρχουν και κάποια αρκετα ευχάριστα και καλογραμμένα κείμενα αλλά δυστυχώς αποτελούν μειονότητα.
April 12, 2020
'Sfogliando le pagine di questa raccolta si sente il ticchettio furioso e disperato della macchina da scrivere del vecchio Hank. L'intimità della scrittura ci catapulta nella sua stanza ammobiliata tra mozziconi di sigaretta, bicchieri rovesciati e donne folli. Bieca oscenità, sarcasmo abrasivo, saggezza sboccata, sereno cinismo, poesia, alcol, sesso, musica classica come solo Bukowski sa mischiare". Purtroppo non è una lettura compatibile con i miei gusti. A tratti ripetitiva e monotona, in altre si riscopre il genio.
Raccolta da leggere senza troppe pretese.
Raccolta da leggere senza troppe pretese.
March 7, 2022
Pročitao sam sve novele Bukowskog i uglavnom su mi bile odlične ili jako dobre (ok, Pulp malo manje). Ipak, ova zbirka kratkih priča, novinskih članaka i pisama čini se posebnom i kao da smo ovdje dobili mrvicu više od onog što Bukowski uistinu je i predstavlja. Kao da ga mogu vidjeti pijanog i s cigaretom u ustima kako kasno u noć piše svaku od ovih priča i živo ga zaboli hoće li to itko pročitati ili se ikome svidjeti. Zbirka mi je tim malo draža jer je poklon drage prijateljice koja je točno znala kojom knjigom će me posebno razveseliti :)
May 5, 2022
I realize I'm reading these backwards, but regardless, this 2010 volume, the second in a series, of Bukowski's uncollected stories and essays is a marked improvement from the third (2015) volume. It seems there were leftovers still worth reading when Absence of the Hero was published. Still... New to Bukowski? I wouldn't recommend starting here. Read everything he wrote and want more? This is for you. If the pattern holds the next one I'm starting - Portions From a Wine Stained Notebook - may actually have some classic Bukowski in it.
February 27, 2024
Bukowski...me encanta y lo odio, aunque me gusta mucho más de lo que le odio. Nunca pensé que leería un relato suyo sobre coches, caníbales o monos, pero así ha sido. La fuerza con la que escribe es muy difícil de explicar y catalogar, siempre abordando temas crudos a través del sexo. Lo hace a propósito, como él mismo dice: "encauzo mi material por el sendero del sexo para que no se duerman, y mientras están despiertos, les endilgo el resto; se lo cuelo disimuladamente. Les doy morfina y luego les arranco la escasa alma que tienen".
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