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Women: A Novel de Charles Bukowski
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Women: A Novel (1978 original; edició 2014)

de Charles Bukowski (Autor)

MembresRessenyesPopularitatValoració mitjanaMencions
3,411462,773 (3.76)24
Low-life writer and unrepentant alcoholic Henry Chinaski was born to survive. After decades of slacking off at low-paying dead-end jobs, blowing his cash on booze and women, and scrimping by in flea-bitten apartments, Chinaski sees his poetic star rising at last. Now, at fifty, he is reveling in his sudden rock-star life, running three hundred hangovers a year, and maintaining a sex life that would cripple Casanova. With all of Bukowski's trademark humor and gritty, dark honesty, this 1978 follow-up to Post Office and Factotum is an uncompromising account of life on the edge.… (més)
Membre:mknapil
Títol:Women: A Novel
Autors:Charles Bukowski (Autor)
Informació:Ecco (2007), Edition: Reprint, 304 pages
Col·leccions:La teva biblioteca
Valoració:
Etiquetes:No n'hi ha cap

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Women de Charles Bukowski (1978)

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» Mira també 24 mencions

Anglès (40)  Neerlandès (2)  Italià (2)  Francès (1)  Castellà (1)  Totes les llengües (46)
Es mostren 1-5 de 46 (següent | mostra-les totes)
Despite how garish the story was, it was enjoyable to read mi liked his no-bullshit style. He went straight to the point. Even when writing about a character that is sad and lonely and somewhat pathetic, he was kind of likable. Or maybe even understandable. ( )
  Hiwot.Abebe | Sep 28, 2020 |
Spoiler alert: Chinaski does the right thing by a woman in the last 2 pages. Before that, he doesn't. 99% of [b: Women|1934|Little Women|Louisa May Alcott|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1562690475l/1934._SY75_.jpg|3244642] is misogynistic (there is another section in which he expresses some heart and soul). 1% is either Bukowski faking heart and soul so that he can write the 99% that is pathetic wish fulfillment and a journal of his id, or he actually had something of a heart and soul. I'd like to believe the latter.

As Henry Chinaski, he does make it clear that his books are novels, not simply memoirs, which is part of the reason I have chosen the more generous take. And why his books are worth reading. Not that I would recommend them to everyone, but I do think that he is worth reading. ( )
  Robert_Musil | Dec 15, 2019 |
This book was my first foray into Bukowski.

Over the years I've seen many a Bukowski quote on walls, literal and those on social media. This is it, I am about to learn what he's about. I found it hard to understand what there is to revere about the man. I had to drudge through pages in the first half because it consisted of nothing but simple and lewd descriptions of the women he merely sees as means to his pleasure. The writing in between the sexual encounters are there for filler.

There is no insight, rarely a question, and rarely the self-conscious look at his own face and hands at what he is doing.

As the book wore on, there was something that I started to enjoy. I stopped feeling repulsed by his actions. I think there is always a part in people that's envious of the low-life such as Bukowski's. It seems I'm no exception.

He skims through life attending to his basest of needs and nothing else. There isn't much of him that is human but at the same thing the audacity, the bare-faced reality and the honesty of this man starts to be endearing and there is every reason for it to endure the ages. ( )
  Kevin_White | Feb 17, 2019 |
First I hated it, then I loved it and in the end it was a wild ride. ( )
  MartinEdasi | Mar 11, 2018 |
Buckets of ink have been spilled in the praise of this book. Not like it needs more, but here's is my grain of sand.

There’s no way in hell, this novel could’ve been written in this day and age of hyper-sensitive ‘special’ snowflakes—the author would’ve been hanged by the balls and left to dry in the hot desert sun for being perceived a misogynist fool (among other things). However, those who dismiss it, fail to see that in order to create something as ballsy and unapologetic as this piece of work. One needs to be brave, and not give a fuck about ruffling any feathers, which remains me; I should read more Charles Bukowski.

Chinaski grabs a beer. Drayer Baba have mercy!
Henry Chinaski is the average Joe, the average nasty sonofabitch, drunken, ugly, and misogynistic poet who beds any c***t who throws herself at him, and they do, by the busloads (some sad, some bonkers, some a combination of both). But hey what’s an old alcoholic at the twilight of his miserable existence to do? Say No? Fuck you buddy! So what if from time to time he can’t get it up? Screw another one because, hey, why the hell not. And so the novel becomes a tad repetitive with the wake up, drink, puke—puke or drink, (been there, done that) go to the race track, do a reading, drink some more, fuck some nubile,(wish I could do this. Often) do a reading, drink, repeat—oh wait, he can’t get it up—okay repeat. Yet it’s done in a raw, funny, repulsive, passionate, honest and breezy way. Midway through the book though, you’ll come to the realization that no one writes this way, meaning; he doesn’t give two fucks about impressing the sneering glitterati. Or anyone. You either like it or hate it, it’s there, raw and festering like a staph infection, or a flower growing in the sewage—take your pick.
Some unexpected insights rewards the readers of this book, with quotes aplenty:

"You're so full of shit!"
I laughed. "That's why I write."

So, if you’re of a sensitive predisposition you might want to steer clear of this one, ya special little snowflake ya. :-) ( )
  Verge0007 | May 20, 2017 |
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» Afegeix-hi altres autors (13 possibles)

Nom de l'autorCàrrecTipus d'autorObra?Estat
Charles Bukowskiautor primaritotes les edicionscalculat
Berlanga, JorgeTraductorautor secundarialgunes edicionsconfirmat
Caramella, MarisaTraductorautor secundarialgunes edicionsconfirmat
Ekholm, RaunoTraductorautor secundarialgunes edicionsconfirmat
Janssen, SusanTraductorautor secundarialgunes edicionsconfirmat
Luís, FernandoTraductorautor secundarialgunes edicionsconfirmat
Matthieussent, BriceTraductorautor secundarialgunes edicionsconfirmat
Piňos, TomášTraductorautor secundarialgunes edicionsconfirmat
Weissner, CarlTraductorautor secundarialgunes edicionsconfirmat
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"Many a good man has been put under the bridge by a woman."

-HENRY CHINASKI
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I was 50 years old and hadn't been to bed with a woman for four years. I had no women friends. I looked at them as I passed them on the streets or wherever I saw them, but I looked at them without yearning and with a sense of futility.
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No n'hi ha cap

Low-life writer and unrepentant alcoholic Henry Chinaski was born to survive. After decades of slacking off at low-paying dead-end jobs, blowing his cash on booze and women, and scrimping by in flea-bitten apartments, Chinaski sees his poetic star rising at last. Now, at fifty, he is reveling in his sudden rock-star life, running three hundred hangovers a year, and maintaining a sex life that would cripple Casanova. With all of Bukowski's trademark humor and gritty, dark honesty, this 1978 follow-up to Post Office and Factotum is an uncompromising account of life on the edge.

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