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Hot Water Music
Stories deal with human sexuality, grief, the relationship between men and women, writers, death, drifters, and family relations
221 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1983
About the author
Charles Bukowski
856 books30.2k 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 742 reviews
August 25, 2021
I had been reading Chekhov’s major plays—now doesn't that sound elegant and literary?—and thought I needed something inelegant and unliterary to follow it up, and found something on audiobooks I hadn’t read before, from Charles Bukowski, a collection of stories, and it is obvious at a glance that the two writers are very different—what do we know about Buk? Wine, women, horseracing, boxing, brutality, usually funny, often obscene, stripped-down prose that is decidedly unpretentious, straightforward—but I have to say, just having read Uncle Vanya, with its panoply of unhappy people, some of whom are drunken philandering men, I begin to see Anton and Charles as distant brothers at a century’s distance.
Both are realists, associated with a sometimes bleak/comic existentialist approach. True, Buk is profane at times, crass, sometimes offensive, but in Hot Water Music the main point is to explore honestly the world of the down and out. Bukowski talks simply and profoundly about the underbelly of the working class without raising judgement. Oh, he's hard on the rich and pretentious, but not about the poor.
Chekhov also sided with the working class and wrote in largely straightforward, unadorned fashion. And like Bukowski Chekhov also describe the world without judging anything in it unless those things are boring or pompous. I have enjoyed more Factotum, Pulp, Ham on Rye, and Post Office, longer works, but I like the art in some of the Henry Chinaski stories here. It is true that the collective focus of these stories is on booze, writing, and sex, and there's a kind of sameness, but one of his characters responds to this criticism:
"You seem to write about sex a lot."
"Yeah, what do you expect me to write about? The stock market? Who wants to read about that?!"
The more absurd stories such as “You Kissed Lilly” and “I Love You, Albert,” are silly fun but admirably shaped. Some of the clever—and yes, ultimately literary—ones to check out are “The Upward Bird,” “Beer at the Corner Bar,” “The Death of the Father II,” and “Head Job,” which is actually from the perspective of a woman (!). Okay, Chekhov did a better job depicting women than Bukowski, I’ll give you that, but I’ll say Chekhov’s strongest characters generally also tend to be men, not women. So, brothers from different planets? Just a th0ught.
Both are realists, associated with a sometimes bleak/comic existentialist approach. True, Buk is profane at times, crass, sometimes offensive, but in Hot Water Music the main point is to explore honestly the world of the down and out. Bukowski talks simply and profoundly about the underbelly of the working class without raising judgement. Oh, he's hard on the rich and pretentious, but not about the poor.
Chekhov also sided with the working class and wrote in largely straightforward, unadorned fashion. And like Bukowski Chekhov also describe the world without judging anything in it unless those things are boring or pompous. I have enjoyed more Factotum, Pulp, Ham on Rye, and Post Office, longer works, but I like the art in some of the Henry Chinaski stories here. It is true that the collective focus of these stories is on booze, writing, and sex, and there's a kind of sameness, but one of his characters responds to this criticism:
"You seem to write about sex a lot."
"Yeah, what do you expect me to write about? The stock market? Who wants to read about that?!"
The more absurd stories such as “You Kissed Lilly” and “I Love You, Albert,” are silly fun but admirably shaped. Some of the clever—and yes, ultimately literary—ones to check out are “The Upward Bird,” “Beer at the Corner Bar,” “The Death of the Father II,” and “Head Job,” which is actually from the perspective of a woman (!). Okay, Chekhov did a better job depicting women than Bukowski, I’ll give you that, but I’ll say Chekhov’s strongest characters generally also tend to be men, not women. So, brothers from different planets? Just a th0ught.
October 15, 2017
Ο πατέρας του Βρόμικου Ρεαλισμού (Dark Realism) επινοεί και καταγράφει (εξαρτάται, πάντοτε, από το σε ποιο βαθμό το σύνολο του έργου του θεωρείται αυτοβιογραφικό ή όχι) ολιγοσέλιδα ανοσιουργήματα: βρόμικες ιστορίες που εκτυλίσσονται στις εξίσου βρόμικες γειτονιές της Πόλης των (Εκπεσόντων) Αγγέλων, που αφορούν αυτούς ακριβώς, τους εξωθημένους στο περιθώριο της αστικής κοινωνίας, τους μπεκρήδες, τις πόρνες και τους ζιγκολό, τα χαμίνια και τα πρεζάκια, τους πορτοφολάδες και τους λαντζέρηδες, τους αυτοκαταστροφικούς ποιητές, όσους με λίγα λόγια δεν τα κατάφεραν να ανοίξουν τα φτερά τους να πετάξουν, είτε γιατί δεν τους έδωσαν ποτέ φτερά, είτε γιατί οι ίδιοι τα τσάκισαν κάπου στην πορεία.
Βαθιές αλήθειες με απλά, αψιμυθίωτα λόγια: «Στον Μάλον άρεσε η ταπεινή ζωή και νομίζω πως του άρεσε και η φτώχεια. Από τα γράμματά του, σχημάτισα την εντύπωση ότι συνέδεε τη φτώχεια με την αγνότητα. Βέβαια, αυτό ήθελαν πάντα οι πλούσιοι από εμάς να πιστεύουμε, αλλά αυτό είναι μια άλλη ιστορία».
Όταν κανείς αναφέρεται στον Bukowski, τον Βρόμικο Κόσμο του και την αφτιασίδωτη γραφή του, οτιδήποτε λιγότερο από τέσσερα αστεράκια συνιστά προδοσία [αξίωμα].
Βαθιές αλήθειες με απλά, αψιμυθίωτα λόγια: «Στον Μάλον άρεσε η ταπεινή ζωή και νομίζω πως του άρεσε και η φτώχεια. Από τα γράμματά του, σχημάτισα την εντύπωση ότι συνέδεε τη φτώχεια με την αγνότητα. Βέβαια, αυτό ήθελαν πάντα οι πλούσιοι από εμάς να πιστεύουμε, αλλά αυτό είναι μια άλλη ιστορία».
Όταν κανείς αναφέρεται στον Bukowski, τον Βρόμικο Κόσμο του και την αφτιασίδωτη γραφή του, οτιδήποτε λιγότερο από τέσσερα αστεράκια συνιστά προδοσία [αξίωμα].
February 28, 2012
I am quite the fan of Bukowski. I enjoyed Factotum, Pulp, and Post Office in particular, and I think Ham On Rye is a work of art. Perhaps the only real catch to Bukowski's work is that he is something of a one trick pony. Don't get me wrong, though. It's still a good trick.
Where Bukowski fails in his writing (when he fails at all) is when he allows his nihilism to devolve into creative redundancy. He doesn't have very many points to make, and sometimes he tends to make them in the same way. Still, the man is a craftsman when it comes to the rough-hewn and the unflinching gaze of existentialism.
This is why I was disappointed by Hot Water Music.
Bukowski's themes (which are a lot deeper than just drunkeness, sex, ambivalence, and poverty, as some of the other reviews here seem to suggest) translate remarkably well when they are drawn out novelistically by his crisp, spare prose and his dry, gritty dialogue. In his books he takes his time teasing his message out of dark shadows and, when it is exposed to the light, he crushes its skull with a sledgehammer.
Short stories, of course, don't give him as much leisure for dilly-dallying, and as a result his work here is blunter (inasumcuh as that's possible) and duller and far more repetitive. The majority of these stories are about, of course, ambiently depressed alcoholics who haven't the motivation or energy to do anything but keep digging their own grave. You read enough stories about soused women farting and horny men with hemorrhoids and your head starts to swim. Some people might argue that these stories are meant simply to be funny, and depending on your sense of humor, they are -- but no one likes to hear the same joke told ten, twelve, or twenty times in a row. Unless, of course, you really really like the joke.
The more absurd pieces (You Kissed Lilly, Strokes to Nowhere, and I Love You, Albert) are fun enough, and although their playfulness tends to be vacuous, they are still chewy enough to be enjoyable. And there are really some remarkably subtle and clever stories here as well. Most notable among these are Cold Night, The Upward Bird, Beer at the Corner Bar, The Death of the Father II, In and Out and Over, and Head Job.
In these Bukowski trades in his usual and obvious attempts at crassness and crudity for a more ghostly skill: the stories are delivered with his typical point-blank attitude, but their profundity is couched without bravado or brassiness. His short stories work best when they avoid the more blatant trademarks of his novels -- liquor-soaked abuse and disdain. Head Job, especially, is notable for being the first time that I have ever read Bukowski write something from a woman's point of view, and he does it admirably.
This is a decent but repetitive collection of stories, with gems interspersed throughout, but the overall impression is mostly lukewarm, although hardcore fans will love it.
Where Bukowski fails in his writing (when he fails at all) is when he allows his nihilism to devolve into creative redundancy. He doesn't have very many points to make, and sometimes he tends to make them in the same way. Still, the man is a craftsman when it comes to the rough-hewn and the unflinching gaze of existentialism.
This is why I was disappointed by Hot Water Music.
Bukowski's themes (which are a lot deeper than just drunkeness, sex, ambivalence, and poverty, as some of the other reviews here seem to suggest) translate remarkably well when they are drawn out novelistically by his crisp, spare prose and his dry, gritty dialogue. In his books he takes his time teasing his message out of dark shadows and, when it is exposed to the light, he crushes its skull with a sledgehammer.
Short stories, of course, don't give him as much leisure for dilly-dallying, and as a result his work here is blunter (inasumcuh as that's possible) and duller and far more repetitive. The majority of these stories are about, of course, ambiently depressed alcoholics who haven't the motivation or energy to do anything but keep digging their own grave. You read enough stories about soused women farting and horny men with hemorrhoids and your head starts to swim. Some people might argue that these stories are meant simply to be funny, and depending on your sense of humor, they are -- but no one likes to hear the same joke told ten, twelve, or twenty times in a row. Unless, of course, you really really like the joke.
The more absurd pieces (You Kissed Lilly, Strokes to Nowhere, and I Love You, Albert) are fun enough, and although their playfulness tends to be vacuous, they are still chewy enough to be enjoyable. And there are really some remarkably subtle and clever stories here as well. Most notable among these are Cold Night, The Upward Bird, Beer at the Corner Bar, The Death of the Father II, In and Out and Over, and Head Job.
In these Bukowski trades in his usual and obvious attempts at crassness and crudity for a more ghostly skill: the stories are delivered with his typical point-blank attitude, but their profundity is couched without bravado or brassiness. His short stories work best when they avoid the more blatant trademarks of his novels -- liquor-soaked abuse and disdain. Head Job, especially, is notable for being the first time that I have ever read Bukowski write something from a woman's point of view, and he does it admirably.
This is a decent but repetitive collection of stories, with gems interspersed throughout, but the overall impression is mostly lukewarm, although hardcore fans will love it.
December 17, 2016
باید بگم که حرف نداشت.
June 3, 2016
3,5*
10 ιστορίες,πολύ σύντομες.Πρώτη μου επαφή με τον συγγραφέα,με γοήτευσε,χωρίς όμως να με ενθουσιάσει!Σίγουρα θα τον ξαναπιάσω στα χέρια μου,με λιγότερες όμως απαιτήσεις αυτή τη φορά.
Στα θετικά:Η γραφή του μου άρεσε πολύ!Κοφτή,ωμή,με αρκετές περιγραφές των προσώπων που συναντούσαμε στις ιστορίες,αλλά και του περιβάλλοντος.Κατάφερε να με βάλει στο κλίμα και κατά έναν περίεργο τρόπο παρουσίασε την παρακμή ιδιαίτερα γοητευτική!
Στα αρνητικά:Οι ιστορίες,σαν ιστορίες,δεν με τρέλαναν.Πέρασαν και δεν ακούμπησαν-σε μια βδομάδα θα τις έχω ξεχάσει.Ίσως είχα πολύ υψηλές προσδοκίες..Κάτι μου λέει ότι τα ποιήματά του (ορισμένα από τα οποία έχω ακούσει μελοποιημένα) θα μου ταιριάξουν περισσότερο!
10 ιστορίες,πολύ σύντομες.Πρώτη μου επαφή με τον συγγραφέα,με γοήτευσε,χωρίς όμως να με ενθουσιάσει!Σίγουρα θα τον ξαναπιάσω στα χέρια μου,με λιγότερες όμως απαιτήσεις αυτή τη φορά.
Στα θετικά:Η γραφή του μου άρεσε πολύ!Κοφτή,ωμή,με αρκετές περιγραφές των προσώπων που συναντούσαμε στις ιστορίες,αλλά και του περιβάλλοντος.Κατάφερε να με βάλει στο κλίμα και κατά έναν περίεργο τρόπο παρουσίασε την παρακμή ιδιαίτερα γοητευτική!
Στα αρνητικά:Οι ιστορίες,σαν ιστορίες,δεν με τρέλαναν.Πέρασαν και δεν ακούμπησαν-σε μια βδομάδα θα τις έχω ξεχάσει.Ίσως είχα πολύ υψηλές προσδοκίες..Κάτι μου λέει ότι τα ποιήματά του (ορισμένα από τα οποία έχω ακούσει μελοποιημένα) θα μου ταιριάξουν περισσότερο!
September 6, 2025
What is this book? - A collection of 36 magnificent short stories.
All of the tales are written from the author’s classic low life perspective and, of course, contain fighting, drinking, domestics, whoring, plenty of trips to the racetrack, and a couple of kills; all generously sprinkled with psychological and philosophical cognisance. Upon reflection, it would be almost impossible to pick out any favourites because they are all phenomenally well-written. They all have their Chekhovian qualities and powerfully channel notions of insight, entertainment and intrigue directly to the mind of the reader.
Bukowski said best in this very book:
“Genius might the ability to say a profound thing in a simple way.” (p.151).
I use to think Chekhov was the greatest short story writer of all time. However, this book’s existence has evidentially thrown my assumption into doubt. From what is contained in these pages, Bukowski may simply be America’s answer to Russia’s Chekhov
I understood that he was America’s answer when I read this:
“Three a.m. drunks, all over America, were staring at the walls, having finally given it up. You didn’t have to be a drunk to get hurt, to be zeroed out by a woman; but you could get hurt and become a drunk. You might think for a while, especially when you were young, that luck was with you, and sometimes it was. But there were all manner of averages and laws working that you knew nothing about, even as you imagined things were going well. Some night, some hot Thursday night, you became the drunk, you were there alone in a cheap rented room, and no matter how many times you’d been out there before, it was no help, it was even worse because you had got to thinking you wouldn’t have to face it again. All you could do was light another cigarette, pour another drink, check the peeling walls for lips and eyes. What men and women did to each other was beyond comprehension.” (p.147).
All of the tales are written from the author’s classic low life perspective and, of course, contain fighting, drinking, domestics, whoring, plenty of trips to the racetrack, and a couple of kills; all generously sprinkled with psychological and philosophical cognisance. Upon reflection, it would be almost impossible to pick out any favourites because they are all phenomenally well-written. They all have their Chekhovian qualities and powerfully channel notions of insight, entertainment and intrigue directly to the mind of the reader.
Bukowski said best in this very book:
“Genius might the ability to say a profound thing in a simple way.” (p.151).
I use to think Chekhov was the greatest short story writer of all time. However, this book’s existence has evidentially thrown my assumption into doubt. From what is contained in these pages, Bukowski may simply be America’s answer to Russia’s Chekhov
I understood that he was America’s answer when I read this:
“Three a.m. drunks, all over America, were staring at the walls, having finally given it up. You didn’t have to be a drunk to get hurt, to be zeroed out by a woman; but you could get hurt and become a drunk. You might think for a while, especially when you were young, that luck was with you, and sometimes it was. But there were all manner of averages and laws working that you knew nothing about, even as you imagined things were going well. Some night, some hot Thursday night, you became the drunk, you were there alone in a cheap rented room, and no matter how many times you’d been out there before, it was no help, it was even worse because you had got to thinking you wouldn’t have to face it again. All you could do was light another cigarette, pour another drink, check the peeling walls for lips and eyes. What men and women did to each other was beyond comprehension.” (p.147).
August 4, 2021
امتیاز ۳.۵
جذابیت یک الکلی بوگندو در چیست؟ کسی که فقط از مشروب خوردن و عوق زدن و سکس و شاشیدن و ولگردی و درگیریهای فیزیکی و فحاشی نوشته است. اصلا چه نیازی به نوشتن اینها بود؟ علی الظاهر بیخود مینماید. تا این که بوکوفسکی دست به قلم گرفت و با همین نوشتههایش عالم و آدم را به سخره گرفت. در اصل به تخ...ش گرفت.
هنری چیناسکی معروف که همان بدل بوکوفسکی در داستانهایش است شاعر و نویسنده عیاش و مشمئزکننده و تجربهگراییست که شاید متعارف و نرمال نباشد ولی ابدا دست دو نیست. خودِ خود جنس است. نه علاقه به خودسانسوری دارد نه به قضاوتها اهمیت میدهد. این جنبهی ماجرا دقیقا همان خصایصی است که هر کسی دوست دارد، شخصیتش شامل آنها باشد. هرچند که بعد بوکوفسکی هر کسی هر چه در دنبالهی کارهای او نوشت همگی تاناکورا و ادا و اطواری و دلقک مآبی شد.
بوکوفسکی نه خود را نویسندهی درست حسابی و نه شاعر کاربلدی میدانست. ادعای دانایی و مغز فلسفی هم نداشت ولی دیگرانی را هم که چنین ادعایی داشتند پخی حساب نمیکرد. در کل هیچکس را به خصوص زندگی را آدم حساب نکرد. رکابی پوشید، تا خرخره مشروب خورد، ترتیب زنهای خیابانی را داد و گاهی هم پشت ماشین تحریرش نشست و تق و توق کرد.
این مجموعه داستان هم گزیدهای از دو مجموعه داستان مشهورش یعنی Hot water music و South of no north است که بهمن کیارستمی تقریبا به خوبی لحن بوکوفسکی را در آن حفظ کرده. همگی مضمون یکسانی دارند. در تمامی آنها شاعر یا نویسندهای کاراکتر اصلی است که یا دیگر نمیتواند بنویسد، یا تازه به موفقیت کوچکی رسیده یا جلسهی شعر خوانی دارد که همهی آنها را در حالت مستی برگزار میکند و ...
هیچکس نمیتواند داستانهای تکراری بنویسد در حالیکه برای خواننده یکنواخت نشود، بجز دیوانهای مثل بوکوفسکی.
با خواندنشان میفهمید که بوکوفسکی خیلی چیزها میدانست و یا به خیلی چیزها معتقد ولی حتی خودش را هم جدی نگرفت.
جملاتی نوشت که خیلی ساده بود ولی دنیایی حرف داشت . یک نمونه 👇
« بعضی بیتهاش به تنهایی خوب بودن، اما وقتی اونها رو قالب کلی شعر میشنیدی، میدیدی ویکتور چیز مهمی نمیگه، فقط هرچی میگه، بلند میگه.»
۱۴۰۰/۰۵/۱۱
جذابیت یک الکلی بوگندو در چیست؟ کسی که فقط از مشروب خوردن و عوق زدن و سکس و شاشیدن و ولگردی و درگیریهای فیزیکی و فحاشی نوشته است. اصلا چه نیازی به نوشتن اینها بود؟ علی الظاهر بیخود مینماید. تا این که بوکوفسکی دست به قلم گرفت و با همین نوشتههایش عالم و آدم را به سخره گرفت. در اصل به تخ...ش گرفت.
هنری چیناسکی معروف که همان بدل بوکوفسکی در داستانهایش است شاعر و نویسنده عیاش و مشمئزکننده و تجربهگراییست که شاید متعارف و نرمال نباشد ولی ابدا دست دو نیست. خودِ خود جنس است. نه علاقه به خودسانسوری دارد نه به قضاوتها اهمیت میدهد. این جنبهی ماجرا دقیقا همان خصایصی است که هر کسی دوست دارد، شخصیتش شامل آنها باشد. هرچند که بعد بوکوفسکی هر کسی هر چه در دنبالهی کارهای او نوشت همگی تاناکورا و ادا و اطواری و دلقک مآبی شد.
بوکوفسکی نه خود را نویسندهی درست حسابی و نه شاعر کاربلدی میدانست. ادعای دانایی و مغز فلسفی هم نداشت ولی دیگرانی را هم که چنین ادعایی داشتند پخی حساب نمیکرد. در کل هیچکس را به خصوص زندگی را آدم حساب نکرد. رکابی پوشید، تا خرخره مشروب خورد، ترتیب زنهای خیابانی را داد و گاهی هم پشت ماشین تحریرش نشست و تق و توق کرد.
این مجموعه داستان هم گزیدهای از دو مجموعه داستان مشهورش یعنی Hot water music و South of no north است که بهمن کیارستمی تقریبا به خوبی لحن بوکوفسکی را در آن حفظ کرده. همگی مضمون یکسانی دارند. در تمامی آنها شاعر یا نویسندهای کاراکتر اصلی است که یا دیگر نمیتواند بنویسد، یا تازه به موفقیت کوچکی رسیده یا جلسهی شعر خوانی دارد که همهی آنها را در حالت مستی برگزار میکند و ...
هیچکس نمیتواند داستانهای تکراری بنویسد در حالیکه برای خواننده یکنواخت نشود، بجز دیوانهای مثل بوکوفسکی.
با خواندنشان میفهمید که بوکوفسکی خیلی چیزها میدانست و یا به خیلی چیزها معتقد ولی حتی خودش را هم جدی نگرفت.
جملاتی نوشت که خیلی ساده بود ولی دنیایی حرف داشت . یک نمونه 👇
« بعضی بیتهاش به تنهایی خوب بودن، اما وقتی اونها رو قالب کلی شعر میشنیدی، میدیدی ویکتور چیز مهمی نمیگه، فقط هرچی میگه، بلند میگه.»
۱۴۰۰/۰۵/۱۱
February 23, 2019
Povestirile astea mi s-au parut mai jucause decat cele din volumul citit anterior, "Dragoste la $17,50". Si asta nu pentru ca subiectele abordate ar fi fost mai usurele. Nici pomeneala. Avem parte si aici de mult sex, (poate chiar mai) multa violenta si degradare. Dar in acest volum am intalnit multe povestiri surprinzatoare, al caror fir narativ a fost imposibil de prevazut. Cel putin pentru mine :)
Pe scurt: impressive.
Pe scurt: impressive.
August 17, 2021
Βλάσφημες, νοτισμένες από αλκοόλ και φτηνό άρωμα ιστορίες γλυκιάς παρακμής από τον μαιτρ του είδους.
April 26, 2016
Αποκρουστικά καλό.
December 2, 2020
Πολύ ωραία πρώτη επαφή με τον Μπουκόφσκι αν και θα προτιμούσα κάποιο μυθιστόρημα του και όχι συλλογή διηγημάτων. Ενδιαφέρουσα η προβολή των παρακμιακών και περιθωριακών στοιχείων και η ανάδειξη της άλλης πλευράς του "λαμπερού" Χόλυγουντ.
March 2, 2025
Non siamo al livello dei romanzi o di qualche altra raccolta di racconti, però leggere il vecchio Buk dà sempre calore e sollievo per resistere alle bordate che ci arrivano da più fronti.
“Vede dottore, la saggezza arriva all’ultimo – quando la gioventù non c’è più, la tempesta è passata e le ragazze se ne sono andate a casa.”
"Percorremmo Alvarado verso nord. Poi prendemmo Glendale Boulevard. Andava tutto bene. Quello che non sopportavo è che un giorno sarebbe scomparso tutto: gli amori, le poesie, i gladioli. Alla fine ci saremmo ritrovati imbottiti di sterco come piadine da due soldi."
"Erano solo le undici meno un quarto e io dormivo sempre fino a mezzogiorno. La vita è dolce se glielo concedi."
“Vede dottore, la saggezza arriva all’ultimo – quando la gioventù non c’è più, la tempesta è passata e le ragazze se ne sono andate a casa.”
"Percorremmo Alvarado verso nord. Poi prendemmo Glendale Boulevard. Andava tutto bene. Quello che non sopportavo è che un giorno sarebbe scomparso tutto: gli amori, le poesie, i gladioli. Alla fine ci saremmo ritrovati imbottiti di sterco come piadine da due soldi."
"Erano solo le undici meno un quarto e io dormivo sempre fino a mezzogiorno. La vita è dolce se glielo concedi."
April 27, 2018
Unii ar spune că Bukowski este obscen, indecent, violent. Alții că este afemeiat și bețiv.
Eu spun că în tot ceea ce face Bukowski este genial. Cărțile sale de proză nu sunt complicate, au multe dialoguri, se citesc ușor (dacă se trece peste limbaj) și exprimă în cuvinte puține și penetrante viața cum este ea. Eroii din Muzică de belele sunt toți un fel de Henry Chinaski, niște scriitori care s-au adaptat cum nu se poate mai bine la viața periferiei americane, care cheltuiesc banii pe alcool, pariuri și femei, zi după zi, fără pauze. Fiecare text ascunde însă în el alte și alte tare ale societății contemporane, dar rămâne ca fiecare cititor să le descopere în spatele baxurilor de bere desfăcute, partidelor de sex și scărpinatului în cur. Un geniu, cum spuneam.
Eu spun că în tot ceea ce face Bukowski este genial. Cărțile sale de proză nu sunt complicate, au multe dialoguri, se citesc ușor (dacă se trece peste limbaj) și exprimă în cuvinte puține și penetrante viața cum este ea. Eroii din Muzică de belele sunt toți un fel de Henry Chinaski, niște scriitori care s-au adaptat cum nu se poate mai bine la viața periferiei americane, care cheltuiesc banii pe alcool, pariuri și femei, zi după zi, fără pauze. Fiecare text ascunde însă în el alte și alte tare ale societății contemporane, dar rămâne ca fiecare cititor să le descopere în spatele baxurilor de bere desfăcute, partidelor de sex și scărpinatului în cur. Un geniu, cum spuneam.
December 20, 2008
More stories, some of the Best Buk stories they is :) Hate everything? Think the world is some sick place where everything we value is falsely raised to be somehow important when it all actually means shit? This is the book for you. Bukowski got it, and he also managed to write some crazy shit about it and lucky for you it can be find just in these pages. Crack her open, and instead of being angry that he's such a douchebag, be furious that you're not.
May 26, 2025
کاش این کتاب از بوکفسکی نبود که با چهارتا فحش آبدار از خجالتش در می اومدم اما فکر میکنم وصف این حجم از بدمستی و عیاشی و به در و دیوار شاشیدن بدون هیچ هدفی از بوکفسکی بعیده و احتمالا ایراد از من هست که با وجود تلاش بسیارم برای فهمیدنش نتونستم به نتیجه ای برسم !
همچنین نمیخواهم تو رودرواسی نظر مثبت دیگران بهبه و چهچه کنم و از ترس این که بگن ظاهرببنی و سطحی فکر میکنی از عمق مطالب این کتاب بگم من واقعا نتونستم به برداشت هایی که دوستان اشاره کردند برسم !
به نظرم میشه از بی محتوا ترین و کودکانه ترین دست نوشته ها هم برداشت عمیقی داشت ؛ برداشت های شخصی که توصیفات فرامتنی اون زاده ذهن خواننده هست نه نویسنده و من نمیتونم تشخیص بدم واقعا در پس این کتاب تفکر عمیقی قرار داشته یا این ماییم که به اعتبار اسم بوکفسکی هم که شده دوست داریم بهش معنا ببخشیم !
فکر میکنم بهتر باشه چند سال بعد دوباره بخونمش و بیشتر بهش فکر کنم فقط یک چیز برای من مشخصه که دوستش نداشتم حتی اگر بسیار عمیق و قابل تامل باشه برای من دوست داشتنی نبود هرچند که فکر میکنم پتانسیل تبدیل شدن به یک نمایشنامه بسیار قوی رو داره !
کتاب رو با صدای سروش صحت گوش دادم و احتمالا به خاطر خوانش خوب ایشون از نیمه رها نکردم .
همچنین نمیخواهم تو رودرواسی نظر مثبت دیگران بهبه و چهچه کنم و از ترس این که بگن ظاهرببنی و سطحی فکر میکنی از عمق مطالب این کتاب بگم من واقعا نتونستم به برداشت هایی که دوستان اشاره کردند برسم !
به نظرم میشه از بی محتوا ترین و کودکانه ترین دست نوشته ها هم برداشت عمیقی داشت ؛ برداشت های شخصی که توصیفات فرامتنی اون زاده ذهن خواننده هست نه نویسنده و من نمیتونم تشخیص بدم واقعا در پس این کتاب تفکر عمیقی قرار داشته یا این ماییم که به اعتبار اسم بوکفسکی هم که شده دوست داریم بهش معنا ببخشیم !
فکر میکنم بهتر باشه چند سال بعد دوباره بخونمش و بیشتر بهش فکر کنم فقط یک چیز برای من مشخصه که دوستش نداشتم حتی اگر بسیار عمیق و قابل تامل باشه برای من دوست داشتنی نبود هرچند که فکر میکنم پتانسیل تبدیل شدن به یک نمایشنامه بسیار قوی رو داره !
کتاب رو با صدای سروش صحت گوش دادم و احتمالا به خاطر خوانش خوب ایشون از نیمه رها نکردم .
February 27, 2017
"Η μόνη φιλοδοξία μου είναι να μην είμαι απολύτως τίποτα. Μου φαίνεται απόλυτα λογικό"
O γνωστός μηδενιστής Μπουκοφσκι, πεζός εδώ όσο ποτέ -ή και όπως πάντοτε- στην συλλογή διηγημάτων αυτή μιλάει για τα γνωστά, επαναλαμβανόμενα μοτίβα του κόσμου του: Η βρωμιά, η ευτέλεια, το σεξ -και σχεδόν καθόλου ο έρωτας, και ελάχιστα η αγάπη-, το ποτό (πάντα το ποτό) "-Γιατί πίνεις τόσο πολύ;
-Δεν ξέρω, ίσως επειδή βαριέμαι" η απάθεια ως τρόπος ζωής, το ξεπούλημα, ο ιππόδρομος, το χαγκόβερ, η φθορά, η θνητότητα, ο θάνατος "αυτό ήταν το χειρότερο πράγμα με τον θάνατο: ¨Ηταν ανιαρός.
Στεκόταν εκεί μπροστά σου σαν σκασμένο λάστιχο".
Σαρκαστικός κι επιτηδευμένα χυδαίος, σαν γριά πόρνη παραβαμμένη σε καπνισμένο μπαρ, ο Μπουκόφσκι μιλά κυρίως για τον εαυτό του μεσω του Χενρυ Τσινασκι, και περιπου αυτοβιογραφείται σε διάφορες παραλλαγές. Όλοι οι πρωταγωνιστές του είναι συγγραφείς και ποιητές. Όλοι του οι συγγραφείς και ποιητές είναι απαίσιοι άνθρωποι επειδή είναι υπέροχοι καλλιτέχνες. Παρασιτοζωούν, κοροιδεύουν τις γυναίκες, τις εκμεταλλεύονται για το σεξ και για μια στέγη πανω απ το κεφαλι τους, τους τρώνε τα λεφτά, ταίζοντάς τες ποίηση που τις συγκινεί και τις κρατα ερωτευμενες, μεχρι να τους πεταξουν εξω απο το σπιτι. Και τότε απαθείς, απλά καταφεύγουν στην επόμενη.
"Οι συγγραφείς ειναι οι πόρνες του σύμπαντος"
Μια ματιά στον υπόκοσμο της Αμερικής του Μεσοπολέμου, μια βουτιά στον υπόνομό της, μια σκληρή ειρωνική ματιά χωρίς αισθήματα -ούτε χαρά ούτε ενθουσιασμός ούτε θλίψη. Μόνο απαθής επιβιωση.
-Ζωές ξεπουλημένες, εκπορνευμένες, άσκοπες που ξορκίζουν τα συναισθήματα ως αρρώστια-
Μια σπουδή πάνω στην χυδαιότητα της ύπαρξης, την φθαρτότητα της σάρκας, την ειρωνεία ή την ματαιότητα της ζωής, την βεβαιότητα του θανάτου
"Τσουγκρίσαμε τα ποτήρια μας και τ' αδειάσαμε καθώς το νοσοκομειακό έφευγε προς το Νότο με τη σειρήνα του να ουρλιάζει. Δεν ήταν ακόμα η σειρά μας"
3 αστερια για την ειλικρινή, νατουραλιστική, έξω-απ'-τα-δόντια και χωρίς καμμία ωραιοποιηση αφήγηση -σκόπιμη έλλειψη ακόμη και κοσμητικών επιθέτων. Δεν χωράνε στολίδια σ' έναν Βρωμικο Κόσμο- ενός τόσο ασχημου κόσμου αλήθεια, που, σχεδόν γοητευμένος, σχεδόν με δέος, αδυνατείς να τραβήξεις το βλέμμα σου από πάνω του. Κρυφοκοιτάς με αποστροφή αλλά ηδονικά από την κλειδαρότρυπα. 1 επιπλέον αστέρι για το πικρά αστείο και ανελέητα σαρκαστικό σχόλιο σε κάθε επίλογο διηγήματος που αποδομεί ο,τι μόλις διάβασες.
O γνωστός μηδενιστής Μπουκοφσκι, πεζός εδώ όσο ποτέ -ή και όπως πάντοτε- στην συλλογή διηγημάτων αυτή μιλάει για τα γνωστά, επαναλαμβανόμενα μοτίβα του κόσμου του: Η βρωμιά, η ευτέλεια, το σεξ -και σχεδόν καθόλου ο έρωτας, και ελάχιστα η αγάπη-, το ποτό (πάντα το ποτό) "-Γιατί πίνεις τόσο πολύ;
-Δεν ξέρω, ίσως επειδή βαριέμαι" η απάθεια ως τρόπος ζωής, το ξεπούλημα, ο ιππόδρομος, το χαγκόβερ, η φθορά, η θνητότητα, ο θάνατος "αυτό ήταν το χειρότερο πράγμα με τον θάνατο: ¨Ηταν ανιαρός.
Στεκόταν εκεί μπροστά σου σαν σκασμένο λάστιχο".
Σαρκαστικός κι επιτηδευμένα χυδαίος, σαν γριά πόρνη παραβαμμένη σε καπνισμένο μπαρ, ο Μπουκόφσκι μιλά κυρίως για τον εαυτό του μεσω του Χενρυ Τσινασκι, και περιπου αυτοβιογραφείται σε διάφορες παραλλαγές. Όλοι οι πρωταγωνιστές του είναι συγγραφείς και ποιητές. Όλοι του οι συγγραφείς και ποιητές είναι απαίσιοι άνθρωποι επειδή είναι υπέροχοι καλλιτέχνες. Παρασιτοζωούν, κοροιδεύουν τις γυναίκες, τις εκμεταλλεύονται για το σεξ και για μια στέγη πανω απ το κεφαλι τους, τους τρώνε τα λεφτά, ταίζοντάς τες ποίηση που τις συγκινεί και τις κρατα ερωτευμενες, μεχρι να τους πεταξουν εξω απο το σπιτι. Και τότε απαθείς, απλά καταφεύγουν στην επόμενη.
"Οι συγγραφείς ειναι οι πόρνες του σύμπαντος"
Μια ματιά στον υπόκοσμο της Αμερικής του Μεσοπολέμου, μια βουτιά στον υπόνομό της, μια σκληρή ειρωνική ματιά χωρίς αισθήματα -ούτε χαρά ούτε ενθουσιασμός ούτε θλίψη. Μόνο απαθής επιβιωση.
-Ζωές ξεπουλημένες, εκπορνευμένες, άσκοπες που ξορκίζουν τα συναισθήματα ως αρρώστια-
Μια σπουδή πάνω στην χυδαιότητα της ύπαρξης, την φθαρτότητα της σάρκας, την ειρωνεία ή την ματαιότητα της ζωής, την βεβαιότητα του θανάτου
"Τσουγκρίσαμε τα ποτήρια μας και τ' αδειάσαμε καθώς το νοσοκομειακό έφευγε προς το Νότο με τη σειρήνα του να ουρλιάζει. Δεν ήταν ακόμα η σειρά μας"
3 αστερια για την ειλικρινή, νατουραλιστική, έξω-απ'-τα-δόντια και χωρίς καμμία ωραιοποιηση αφήγηση -σκόπιμη έλλειψη ακόμη και κοσμητικών επιθέτων. Δεν χωράνε στολίδια σ' έναν Βρωμικο Κόσμο- ενός τόσο ασχημου κόσμου αλήθεια, που, σχεδόν γοητευμένος, σχεδόν με δέος, αδυνατείς να τραβήξεις το βλέμμα σου από πάνω του. Κρυφοκοιτάς με αποστροφή αλλά ηδονικά από την κλειδαρότρυπα. 1 επιπλέον αστέρι για το πικρά αστείο και ανελέητα σαρκαστικό σχόλιο σε κάθε επίλογο διηγήματος που αποδομεί ο,τι μόλις διάβασες.
November 4, 2016
The key to understanding what makes Bukowski (in my opinion at least) one of the greatest writers that ever lived lies in this very book, in an often-repeated quote which reads:
'Genius might be the ability to say a profound thing in a simple way'
The best art (again in my opinion at least) can evoke a certain time and a place so vividly that though you may not even have experienced it, you still live it, clearly visualise it, breathe it. For instance, there is a downtempo electronic music band called Boards of Canada, that make music that reminds me of my childhood. This is despite the fact that I first listened to Boards of Canada when I was 29.
Similarly, when I read about Bukowski's LA, I feel I've been to those very same shady bars, those dusty racetracks and lonely motel rooms.
It's hard to pick a favourite from this collection. I could choose between You Kissed Lily, where a marital spat takes a number of extreme turns, In and Out and Over where Bukowski takes us through the highs and lows of the writer's day and makes you feel it is a privileged life after all, the road-rage revenge fantasy of Broken Merchandise, and many more. If I was pushed into a corner, I would choose Beer at the Corner Bar, a fine piece of work that embodies the deep loneliness of the misfit, rather like Camus' The Stranger. There is a very amusing quote about Camus in a different story here, to the effect that Camus spoke of misery as if he had just finished a steak dinner and a bottle of wine i.e. with a sort of detached elegance. There is no such compromise from him here. Or ever.
Bukowski's prose as of itself isn't particularly explosive or beautiful in that flowery way. Like Dostoyevsky though, he has the ability to sum up the nature of existence in a way that shocks you with the beauty of its simplicity. He takes aim from his subconscious to yours with a deadly accuracy. He is also the voice of every societal outcast who still stands proud because his soul and his integrity is still intact. I've never really fit in with the masses, but when I read Bukowski I don't feel particularly bad that I don't.
Hot Water Music is a terrific collection of stories that shock, amuse, and illuminate the way for a lonely soul to find his place in the world.
'Genius might be the ability to say a profound thing in a simple way'
The best art (again in my opinion at least) can evoke a certain time and a place so vividly that though you may not even have experienced it, you still live it, clearly visualise it, breathe it. For instance, there is a downtempo electronic music band called Boards of Canada, that make music that reminds me of my childhood. This is despite the fact that I first listened to Boards of Canada when I was 29.
Similarly, when I read about Bukowski's LA, I feel I've been to those very same shady bars, those dusty racetracks and lonely motel rooms.
It's hard to pick a favourite from this collection. I could choose between You Kissed Lily, where a marital spat takes a number of extreme turns, In and Out and Over where Bukowski takes us through the highs and lows of the writer's day and makes you feel it is a privileged life after all, the road-rage revenge fantasy of Broken Merchandise, and many more. If I was pushed into a corner, I would choose Beer at the Corner Bar, a fine piece of work that embodies the deep loneliness of the misfit, rather like Camus' The Stranger. There is a very amusing quote about Camus in a different story here, to the effect that Camus spoke of misery as if he had just finished a steak dinner and a bottle of wine i.e. with a sort of detached elegance. There is no such compromise from him here. Or ever.
Bukowski's prose as of itself isn't particularly explosive or beautiful in that flowery way. Like Dostoyevsky though, he has the ability to sum up the nature of existence in a way that shocks you with the beauty of its simplicity. He takes aim from his subconscious to yours with a deadly accuracy. He is also the voice of every societal outcast who still stands proud because his soul and his integrity is still intact. I've never really fit in with the masses, but when I read Bukowski I don't feel particularly bad that I don't.
Hot Water Music is a terrific collection of stories that shock, amuse, and illuminate the way for a lonely soul to find his place in the world.
September 16, 2023
Excelente în simplitatea lor.
Bună și traducerea lui Dan Sociu.
Bună și traducerea lui Dan Sociu.
May 3, 2007
By far, my favorite work by Bukowski. This collection of short stories is both beautiful and grotesque. He is such an ass, and he talks about such base and vile acts... yet I love it! I could not put it down; I simply had to find out what fucked up thing was going to happen next. I think that the beauty of Bukowski is that he turns shit into flowers. An act that you would never consider to be pleasing is suddenly shown in a more light. Taking a shit. Killing your wife. These things are such social faux-pas to discuss in literature, yet he does it in a captivating way.
July 14, 2022
«Αποκρουστικά καλό» αναφέρει μία προηγούμενη κριτική ενός άλλου αναγνώστη και δε θα μπορούσε να το περιγράψει κανείς συντομότερα και καλύτερα.
April 15, 2022
Hot Water Music is a collection of short stories about, you guessed it, terrible drunk people. This was my 4th and least favorite Bukowski that I’ve read so far, but I still really, really liked it.
Bukowski is best in small doses I find. The characters and scenes he depicts are so dismal and disgusting and bleak that I try to only read one a year to preserve my mental health and sunny disposition (mild sarcasm). I swear if you’re struggling with alcoholism and reading a Bukowski doesn’t get you into rehab, I don’t know what will. Despite the disturbing nature of what he writes, the dark humor consistently holds me in thrall. I chuckled and laughed out loud several times while reading this collection, and those moments of hilarity are what lifts this collection from an almost gluttonous and redundant obsession with drunken low lifes into something more meaningful, more elusive. I’m not really sure how to capture it with words but I do believe there's value in reading Bukowski’s terse, too honest, and sometimes traumatizing stories. You’ll be hard pressed to find a writer that shares everything better than Bukowski, even when you wish he wouldn’t.
Unfortunately I listened to this as an audio book, so I don’t have a collection of cringe-inducing quotes to share. However, I do remember one vignette. It was a disgusting drunk man (shocker) who had kept his ex-wife’s high heeled shoes. We don’t need to discuss what he was doing with the shoes, or the vomitorium of substances his body was coated in. In his continuous drunken stupor he can’t accept or remember that his wife is now his ex, and that she’s gone. As another character tries to remind him of that important distinction, that he’s actually divorced, he exclaims, “Tell that to the Marines!”
Haha. Damn. You got me again Bukowski.
Story-8, Language-9, Ideas-8, Characters-8, Enjoyment-9, Overall-8.5
Bukowski is best in small doses I find. The characters and scenes he depicts are so dismal and disgusting and bleak that I try to only read one a year to preserve my mental health and sunny disposition (mild sarcasm). I swear if you’re struggling with alcoholism and reading a Bukowski doesn’t get you into rehab, I don’t know what will. Despite the disturbing nature of what he writes, the dark humor consistently holds me in thrall. I chuckled and laughed out loud several times while reading this collection, and those moments of hilarity are what lifts this collection from an almost gluttonous and redundant obsession with drunken low lifes into something more meaningful, more elusive. I’m not really sure how to capture it with words but I do believe there's value in reading Bukowski’s terse, too honest, and sometimes traumatizing stories. You’ll be hard pressed to find a writer that shares everything better than Bukowski, even when you wish he wouldn’t.
Unfortunately I listened to this as an audio book, so I don’t have a collection of cringe-inducing quotes to share. However, I do remember one vignette. It was a disgusting drunk man (shocker) who had kept his ex-wife’s high heeled shoes. We don’t need to discuss what he was doing with the shoes, or the vomitorium of substances his body was coated in. In his continuous drunken stupor he can’t accept or remember that his wife is now his ex, and that she’s gone. As another character tries to remind him of that important distinction, that he’s actually divorced, he exclaims, “Tell that to the Marines!”
Haha. Damn. You got me again Bukowski.
Story-8, Language-9, Ideas-8, Characters-8, Enjoyment-9, Overall-8.5
January 17, 2015
Lo que ocurre aquí, es que no puedo darle más estrellas, DETESTO las recopilaciones, no me gustan, preferiría leer un libro de cada historia (aunque en este caso, algunas historias sean de 4 páginas, no importa) prefiero leerlas por separado, ¿Por qué? Ok, me gusta Bukowski, me gusta su estilo, me gusta su crudeza, pero aún así, hay historias que no me gustaron, o por lo menos no tanto como otras, entonces cuando me toca leer 2 historias seguidas que no me gustan (o más), me da un poco de pereza leer las demás, ¿si saben? Porque igual no tienen una continuación y son ajenas entre sí (la mayoría) y prefiero una sola historia por larga que sea, a 30 historias en un libro. La razón es que ¿Cuánto puedes conocer a un personaje en tan pocas páginas? Ni siquiera llegas a decidir si te gusta o no cuando ya terminó la historia.
Por ese lado, Bukowski merece un pan, un rico pan. Porque la mayoría (si no es que todos) sus personajes son de una personalidad marcada, desarrollados bien (a mi parecer) incluso en sus 4 páginas.
Hay historias que me hicieron reír, otras que tenían frases que me gustaron, otras fueron interesantes, otras me gustaron los personajes, y otras realmente me aburrieron. La historia, porque la narrativa de Bukowski me encanta.
Por ese lado, Bukowski merece un pan, un rico pan. Porque la mayoría (si no es que todos) sus personajes son de una personalidad marcada, desarrollados bien (a mi parecer) incluso en sus 4 páginas.
Hay historias que me hicieron reír, otras que tenían frases que me gustaron, otras fueron interesantes, otras me gustaron los personajes, y otras realmente me aburrieron. La historia, porque la narrativa de Bukowski me encanta.
June 28, 2020
Typical Bukowski-que short stories that make you feel funny, disgusting, cynical, sad, shocking, laugh, frown and most importantly boring and lame. The guy says he writes about life and well, I couldn't disagree.
November 7, 2021
Μικρές ιστορίες ποτισμένες με αλκοόλ και κυνισμό που κινούνται στα λεπτά όρια του περιθωρίου και της παρακμής. Ο Bukowski δεν ωραιοποιεί. Τα λέει χύμα και ωμά, τόσο που στιγμές ξινίζεις τα μούτρα σου. Ωραία, αυτό ακριβώς ήθελε. Να σου δείξει την υποκρισία και τη σαπίλα μιας κοινωνίας που τσακίζει τους ανθρώπους της.
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October 21, 2022— Sí— dijo él— . Como Lenny Bruce. Pero él está muerto y yo casi.
— Sigues siendo ingenioso.
— Sí, soy el héroe. El mito. El incorruptible, el único que no se ha vendido. Mis cartas se subastan en el Este por 250 dólares. Y no puedo ni comprarme una bolsa de pedos.
— Los escritores siempre andáis gritando “que viene el lobo”.
— Puede que por fin haya llegado el lobo. No se puede vivir del alma. Con el alma no se puede pagar el alquiler.
Inténtalo y verás.”
“Busqué mi mediana cerveza, la destapé y bebí un buen trago.
— Oye— dijo Vicky— , siempre te emborrachas durante las lecturas. ¿Es que no puedes dominarte, hombre?
— Me emborracho con mis propias lecturas— dije— . Tampoco puedo soportar mi obra. “
Bukowski, sin duda, tiene un control del ritmo narrativo que es casi un don. Parece más bien un combate de boxeo con finales que terminan en un golpe. Pensándolo bien, otra clase de escritor no lo habría hecho mejor. Por los temas en los que trata en sus relatos, ya de sobra conocidos. Otro escritor los habría hecho aburridos, pero combinado con un humor sórdido y negro, junto a la ejecución del ritmo lo hacen diferente, el estilo directo y sin florituras también hace su trabajo.
Ahora bien, obviamente Bukowski era un misógino y un borracho sin remedio, la excusa de que eran otros tiempos hace falta que dejo de serlo. Pero no por ello hay que alejar la obra de la persona, siempre he pensado lo mismo.
Normalmente, las obras que concibe un escritor o una artista son mejore y más trascendentes que el mismo.
Puede aparecer que muchos de los relatos que ejecuta sean, lo que son, realismo sucio. Pero también es su realismo sucio, el vagabundeo, el alcoholismo sin remedio y el regocijo de encontrarse en esa situación. Aunque siempre he pensado que el personaje que creo Bukowski terminó siendo más parte de el de lo que se imaginaba. Misántropo también, reflejada en cada uno de sus personajes. No obstante, el atisbo de ternura lo podemos encontrar en su obra poética. Quizá, en su interior, no romantizar tanto ese tipo de vida.
— Sigues siendo ingenioso.
— Sí, soy el héroe. El mito. El incorruptible, el único que no se ha vendido. Mis cartas se subastan en el Este por 250 dólares. Y no puedo ni comprarme una bolsa de pedos.
— Los escritores siempre andáis gritando “que viene el lobo”.
— Puede que por fin haya llegado el lobo. No se puede vivir del alma. Con el alma no se puede pagar el alquiler.
Inténtalo y verás.”
“Busqué mi mediana cerveza, la destapé y bebí un buen trago.
— Oye— dijo Vicky— , siempre te emborrachas durante las lecturas. ¿Es que no puedes dominarte, hombre?
— Me emborracho con mis propias lecturas— dije— . Tampoco puedo soportar mi obra. “
Bukowski, sin duda, tiene un control del ritmo narrativo que es casi un don. Parece más bien un combate de boxeo con finales que terminan en un golpe. Pensándolo bien, otra clase de escritor no lo habría hecho mejor. Por los temas en los que trata en sus relatos, ya de sobra conocidos. Otro escritor los habría hecho aburridos, pero combinado con un humor sórdido y negro, junto a la ejecución del ritmo lo hacen diferente, el estilo directo y sin florituras también hace su trabajo.
Ahora bien, obviamente Bukowski era un misógino y un borracho sin remedio, la excusa de que eran otros tiempos hace falta que dejo de serlo. Pero no por ello hay que alejar la obra de la persona, siempre he pensado lo mismo.
Normalmente, las obras que concibe un escritor o una artista son mejore y más trascendentes que el mismo.
Puede aparecer que muchos de los relatos que ejecuta sean, lo que son, realismo sucio. Pero también es su realismo sucio, el vagabundeo, el alcoholismo sin remedio y el regocijo de encontrarse en esa situación. Aunque siempre he pensado que el personaje que creo Bukowski terminó siendo más parte de el de lo que se imaginaba. Misántropo también, reflejada en cada uno de sus personajes. No obstante, el atisbo de ternura lo podemos encontrar en su obra poética. Quizá, en su interior, no romantizar tanto ese tipo de vida.
January 14, 2008
Bukowski is one of my all-time faves. His work has brought me much enjoyment over the years. He's a major model to me as a writer. I hadn't looked at any of his short stories in some time, so I picked up one I hadn't previously read, HOT WATER MUSIC. Imagine my sad surprise when I was actually B-O-R-E-D by it.
I dunno. Maybe it's because of the time in Buk's life from which HWM dates, the early 1980s. By then, Buk had cut his famous deal with Black Sparrow's John Martin. Publication for anything he wrote was all but certain. Buk was out of the post office and beginning to ride the wave of critical applause he'd enjoy the rest of his life. And no, I'm not saying he didn't deserve it---he truly did. And I'm not saying he sold out---the guy never came close to doing so.
Then, what's my problem with HOT WATER MUSIC? It's dull. Chockful of stories which strain, desperately, to be 'controversial' or offensive in some way. I mean, a story about a guy shtupping a flower vase? A story about a couple of possible serial killer/cannibals? And the tales don't end so much as they simply peter out, with no resolution of any kind. At times, this can be an effective literary device, but here, it's over-used. It's almost like Bukowski was consciously trying to write an oh-so Bukowski-like book.
Perhaps it's because, at this point, Martin wasn't going to challenge anything Buk submitted. This book feels like an exercise written to fulfill a contractural obligation, rather than a literary statement. HOT WATER MUSIC reads like a self-satisfied author, seriously in need of a editor (all those lengthy, jam-packed paragraphs!) pandering to his audience.
This man wrote books (POST OFFICE, WOMEN, DAYS RUN AWAY LIKE WILD HORSES..., LAST NIGHT OF THE EARTH POEMS) which will live forever. HOT WATER MUSIC isn't one of them.
I dunno. Maybe it's because of the time in Buk's life from which HWM dates, the early 1980s. By then, Buk had cut his famous deal with Black Sparrow's John Martin. Publication for anything he wrote was all but certain. Buk was out of the post office and beginning to ride the wave of critical applause he'd enjoy the rest of his life. And no, I'm not saying he didn't deserve it---he truly did. And I'm not saying he sold out---the guy never came close to doing so.
Then, what's my problem with HOT WATER MUSIC? It's dull. Chockful of stories which strain, desperately, to be 'controversial' or offensive in some way. I mean, a story about a guy shtupping a flower vase? A story about a couple of possible serial killer/cannibals? And the tales don't end so much as they simply peter out, with no resolution of any kind. At times, this can be an effective literary device, but here, it's over-used. It's almost like Bukowski was consciously trying to write an oh-so Bukowski-like book.
Perhaps it's because, at this point, Martin wasn't going to challenge anything Buk submitted. This book feels like an exercise written to fulfill a contractural obligation, rather than a literary statement. HOT WATER MUSIC reads like a self-satisfied author, seriously in need of a editor (all those lengthy, jam-packed paragraphs!) pandering to his audience.
This man wrote books (POST OFFICE, WOMEN, DAYS RUN AWAY LIKE WILD HORSES..., LAST NIGHT OF THE EARTH POEMS) which will live forever. HOT WATER MUSIC isn't one of them.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
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January 27, 2025در بیشتر داستانها، اتفاق بهخصوصی در جریان نیست بجز زندگی. زیست روزمره. بهشکل دقیقتر:سنگینی زیست روزمره.
حتی در وضعیتی که کرکتر داستان اوضاع بهتری نسبت به قبل داره، باز هم سنگینی روزهای بد گذشته و روزهای بد احتمالی آینده رو حس میکنی.
هر داستان رو شبیه یک نقاشی میتونم ببینم. نقاشیهایی ا�� قشر حاشیهای جامعه بورژوازی.(به اصطلاح افراد فرودست) با یکسری المان مشترک: الکل، مجلههای پرتابشده شعر روی دسته مبل، تلویزیونی که مسابقه اسبسواری و گاوبازی پخش میکنه، چندنفر که راجع به رابطه جنسی حرف میزنند و گوشه کادر هم ممکنه دستکش بوکس ببینی و البته که زن!
زن در توصیف کرکترهای مرد بوکسفکی بسیار تعیینکنندهست. بخشی از شناختی که ما از ناکامی کرکترها داریم، در شرح نسبتی که با زنها داره به دست میاد. معمولا هم نسبت خوبی نمیسازند. تمام کرکترهای بوکفسکی الکن و ناقصند. اما هرچقدر هم که این کرکتر الکن، انفعال در پیش بگیره و مست کنه، حالت رو بهم نمیزنه. حداقلش ته ته دلت باهاش همدلی میکنی. زمخت نیست و دردش ملموسه.
موقع خوندن داستان، معمولا به این فکر میکنم که "فلان کرکتر چی میخواد؟ اصلا دنبال چیه؟" و جواب دقیقی راجع به کرکترهای این داستانهای بوکفسکی پیدا نکردم. شاید جواب همین هیچچیز بودنشه. همین دنبال چیزی نبودن. همین گوش دادن به موسیقی آب گرم و الکل خوردن و نوشتن. [و البته انزجار و خشمی که همزمان از موسیقی، بوی الکل و حس کردن آب گرم داری].
حتی در وضعیتی که کرکتر داستان اوضاع بهتری نسبت به قبل داره، باز هم سنگینی روزهای بد گذشته و روزهای بد احتمالی آینده رو حس میکنی.
هر داستان رو شبیه یک نقاشی میتونم ببینم. نقاشیهایی ا�� قشر حاشیهای جامعه بورژوازی.(به اصطلاح افراد فرودست) با یکسری المان مشترک: الکل، مجلههای پرتابشده شعر روی دسته مبل، تلویزیونی که مسابقه اسبسواری و گاوبازی پخش میکنه، چندنفر که راجع به رابطه جنسی حرف میزنند و گوشه کادر هم ممکنه دستکش بوکس ببینی و البته که زن!
زن در توصیف کرکترهای مرد بوکسفکی بسیار تعیینکنندهست. بخشی از شناختی که ما از ناکامی کرکترها داریم، در شرح نسبتی که با زنها داره به دست میاد. معمولا هم نسبت خوبی نمیسازند. تمام کرکترهای بوکفسکی الکن و ناقصند. اما هرچقدر هم که این کرکتر الکن، انفعال در پیش بگیره و مست کنه، حالت رو بهم نمیزنه. حداقلش ته ته دلت باهاش همدلی میکنی. زمخت نیست و دردش ملموسه.
موقع خوندن داستان، معمولا به این فکر میکنم که "فلان کرکتر چی میخواد؟ اصلا دنبال چیه؟" و جواب دقیقی راجع به کرکترهای این داستانهای بوکفسکی پیدا نکردم. شاید جواب همین هیچچیز بودنشه. همین دنبال چیزی نبودن. همین گوش دادن به موسیقی آب گرم و الکل خوردن و نوشتن. [و البته انزجار و خشمی که همزمان از موسیقی، بوی الکل و حس کردن آب گرم داری].
November 16, 2014
This is the first thing I read of Bukowski's and his terse style seemed to me like a breath of fresh air. It's as if he copied Hemingway's style and then mimicked it to the point of caricature. And yet somehow I'm still saying that's a good thing.
I believe he took the potentiality of Hemingway's style and magnified it's unpleasantness in a manner similar to how Seth McFarlane exaggerated Matt Groening. Okay, maybe that analogy was pushing it but I love the way no thought or idea is too reprehensible to be included in Bukowski's conception of literature.
By the way, besides the numerous pop culture references, the thing that really got me psyched to start reading Bukowski was the excellent documentaries on him that are available on Netflix.
The length of his stories is interesting as well. These are more like vignettes and so it’s best to consider the whole work together and the interrelations between vignettes.
I believe he took the potentiality of Hemingway's style and magnified it's unpleasantness in a manner similar to how Seth McFarlane exaggerated Matt Groening. Okay, maybe that analogy was pushing it but I love the way no thought or idea is too reprehensible to be included in Bukowski's conception of literature.
By the way, besides the numerous pop culture references, the thing that really got me psyched to start reading Bukowski was the excellent documentaries on him that are available on Netflix.
The length of his stories is interesting as well. These are more like vignettes and so it’s best to consider the whole work together and the interrelations between vignettes.
June 16, 2017
I grinned through the first few chapters, chuckled through the next few, then laughed my ass off for the remaining few. CB is a new revelation for me, I think I can understand his perpetual depravity. Maybe depravity is too strong a word. Let's go with misogynist, no, because he also loved thousands of women, for a night or two anyway. I'll have to think of the word, if there is one....@ 6am - Beer & Coffee @ 9am - More beer and a few shots of whiskey @ Noon - Even more beer, a few more shots of whiskey and cheap wine.......Sleep......@ 9pm - Two six packs and vodka & whiskey & red wine until the wee hours of the morning.......next day......the same.
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