Number 10 - Post Office - Charles Bukowski

My first proper Bukowski novel.  Also Bukowski's first proper Bukowski novel, so it seems an appropriate one to start with.

I did read a Bukowski book - The Captain is out to Lunch and the sailors have taken over the ship - about two years ago.  It wasn't a novel as such, but extracts from his diaries.  It was still remarkably interesting.

I had high hopes for this book as several of my friends swear by Bukowski and rate him as one of the all time greats.

The plot, what there is of it, follows drunken down and out Hank Chinaski through several years of his life working for the post office.  And that's about it as far as the story goes. 

We follow him from his early days as a mailman, under a tyrannical boss, through a brief interlude where he left town for a woman, and then his 11 year stint working in the sorting office after moving back to the city. At no point does he make a concerted effort to improve himself, or move on as a character, the drunken bum we meet at the beginning is exactly the same guy who we hear at the end sits down to write a book.

The storytelling is all over the place.  it's disjointed, and occasionally barely grammatical.

And I loved nearly every page of this book.  Despite being a very ordinary story about a very flawed man, where very little of import happens, this book pulls you through it. 

It's a third of the length of the interminable My beautiful friend which makes a real difference.  Hank doesn't really get the chance to outstay his welcome the way Elana and Lila did.  Hank isn't someone you want to pop round for tea but he's a fascinating narrator.

There's a rawness and honest feel to the prose.  He's not aiming to impress with fine words and deeper meaning. he's not even trying to make us like Hank.  He's telling us about his drinking and his gambling, and his occasional conquests in sometimes lurid detail.

Every woman Hank meets is described in what, these days, would be considered disgustingly sexist detail. Breast size, ass size, etc.  But it's the character speaking, and that's his worldview. We can't only read books with characers who speak all posh and are so respectful of everything that we hold dear.  We need this type of writing too.  Hank is a low-life, and by God, we know his inner life in great detail by the end of this book.

Despite the fact that he's clearly not out to impress with fine prose, he occasionally reaches a weird sort of poetry in the rhythms of the writing.  There are moments where we feel sympathy for Hank despite everything.  He's also frequently very funny.

And he's always interetsing.

Bukowski is one of the beat generation's fabled characters, and this book is a clear sign of why that is.

I will be seeking out more of his writing, fortunately my local Waterstones normally has a good selection.