About book Run With The Hunted: A Charles Bukowski Reader (1994)
I have gone through a few stages over the years in reading Buk. The first few years, I suppose I was like any kid eagerly devouring all the beat/countercultural stuff out there. At some point in time I just got tired of his apparent qualities of egotism, narcissism, misogyny, and what I saw as a romanticization of poverty and alcoholism... What was there to like about Bukowski? As it turns out, I have been reading this anthology, which gathers some of his "best" writing in his forty or fifty books. His writing tends to be opaque--that is, the protagonists (usually named Henry or Hank Chinaski, which might or might not signify an alter ego of Bukowski) don't bother to tell us what they're thinking, either in their minds or to the other characters. They might even say something but a subliminal text is evident that says something entirely different. While behaving as a selfish prick toward a woman, for example, it occurs to the reader that the protagonist has had any number of negative experiences that burnt him to the point that he no longer has any ability to imagine a different response--as if he lacks any power, sometimes the awareness as well, to behave in a healthy way. This, Bukowski seems to recognize as being a factor in his loneliness and alienation, but considering all the alternatives that might be less lonely, he would have to compromise something essential to the Bukowskian man: personal freedom. That is sort of a Faustian bargain though, as personal freedom also begets loneliness. Personal freedom is necessary for his male, white characters because they are stuck in a working class prison that basically demands the confrontation of stark choices. Either one works like a dog in a dead end job and lives a straight life, or one holds true to one's own sense of what is enjoyable, aesthetically rewarding. One offers an easier retirement and perhaps a (dysfunctional, of course) family, but sacrifices dignity. The alternative, having an indifferent attitude towards work means that other aspects of life will suffer; one will not be able to conform to the straight society; one will not find a respectable woman as a girlfriend or whatever. Self-respect also fails if one remains only a bum, but it's not that Bukowski's characters have no work ethic; they have a strong interest in maintaining their own writing. Usually the protagonist's relationship to women, once you get over the initial revulsion you may have toward someone with such evident misogyny, is usually hilarious and at the end is poignant. Sex is not something he seems to care whether someone gets hurt over--sometimes the character commits rape (e.g. in the novel "Women.") Yet he does have ethical behavior in other ways. It's hard to explain--he is sometimes very kind to people and at the same time he sometimes treats people like shit, depending on what they mean to him as people. The scene of Factotum, where a whore corners him in his furnished room and forcibly sucks him off despite his begging for mercy, is one of the funniest scenes I've ever read. It's also worth noting how he can write prose that is dry, deadpan and flat in his own way; perhaps the only writer who I could compare to who uses such an "anti-art" aesthetic is Kurt Vonnegut. Things that we are accustomed to hear about in flowery, lyrical prose are treated mockingly, such as sex, while real emotions and traumatic events he conveys without a language for feelings, simply describing actions that show the characters' states of mind.There are also selections of poetry in this book, but I chose to focus on the prose because I prefer the prose. If you would like to sample Bukowski over the thirty years or so of his career, this would be a good place to start.
Though I've read much of Bukowski's full novels, this was my first exposure to both his poetry and his short stories. I really should have inspected it more before I bought it, as there were a lot of excerpts in this collection taken from novels I'd already read. Well, that was my bad. Still, it's a big collection and I certainly found plenty new material to keep me entertained for the haul. Run With the Hunted was well crafted and assembled with care, in an order that not only represents Bukowski's many writings, but also in some ways parallels his life.Bukowski's short stories share many of the same themes and forms as his novels, but seem to take on a higher purpose while retaining less of a point. Each story represents the human condition with small examples of life, which often end before any fulfilling condition in a way that focuses on the characters' struggles, not solutions. That's life, I suppose is the message, if any, that Bukowski was trying to relay.As for his poetry, they say you either hate it or love it. In that case I am one of the few on that fine line between the two. The man had a very prolific career and there's bound to be hits and misses. Sometimes there will be no rhythm, but only jarring statements connected with seemingly little purpose, and at other times the rhythm is beautiful and the context is perfectly laid out with great metaphor and clarity. And more often than not, his poetry reads more or less like flash fiction which happens to be laid out in awkward line breaks; a good story, but you wonder why it was broken into stanzas. As usual, Bukowski is an asshole, but an observant and well written one who knows a thing about life and can weave an entertaining story.
Do You like book Run With The Hunted: A Charles Bukowski Reader (1994)?
Writing about Charles Bukowski — or, even more so, about his work — is like writing about driving in a pounding thunderstorm … or experiencing the sounds and smells of a paper mill running at full production … or walking through the neighborhood you grew up in, many years later, and marveling at how small and shabby the houses and people and cars and even the street-signs seem to have become. One can describe all of these things, of course; but ultimately, the experience itself is irreducible. And that is Charles Bukowski.
—Joseph
This is the only Bukowski I've read and I was only able to get through about 3/4. I dig the pain and the realism in his work but there is simply too much here. I find his poetry rather dull, except for this poem titled Rain.a symphony orchestra.there is a thunderstorm,they are playing a Wagner overtureand the people leave their seats under the treesand run inside to the pavilionthe women giggling, the men pretending calm,wet cigarettes being thrown away,Wagner plays on, and then they are all under thepavilion. the birds even come in from the treesand enter the pavilion and then it is the HungarianRhapsody #2 by Lizst, and it still rains, but look,one man sits alone in the rainlistening. the audience notices him. they turnand look. the orchestra goes about itsbusiness. the man sits in the night in the rain,listening. there is something wrong with him,isn't there?he came to hear the music.
—Oliver
Where's the money Bukowski?? This poor, alcoholic compilation is a great introduction to his works. He is a true writer of the people. There is nothing over-the-top or pretentious about his style. He expresses feelings so simply and accurately, it is obvious that he lived through the majority of the hardships he describes. His semi-autobiographical style is full of sarcasm and degradation. While he is certainly not focused on happiness, I would also not call it depressing. He finds glimmers of hope in the most unsuspecting circumstances. This dude abides.
—JB
