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And now I know the source.
It comes in about two thirds of the way through this, the second volume about Hank Chinaski, a slightly fictionalised version of Buk himself.
That quote sums up the book in many ways. We follow Chinaski on a downward spiral, and he isn't exactly starting on a high. he moves from job to job and city to city as the whim takes him.
He's an archetypal bum and down and out. He's not the sort of person you want to meet. he has a bad attitude and comes across as a distinctly unpleasant type, the sort of garrulous drunk who'll corner you in a bar and talk at you, then offer to fight you on an imagined slight.
But by god is he a fascinating character. It's like watching a train crash in slow motion. And Bukowski's no nonsense almost poetic prose makes it so you can't look away. This book really does look into the darkest corners of humanity and offers little in the way of hope.
There is a droll humour underlying most of the book. Chinaski, despite his many many unforgivable faults, is a witty character. His observations on life are frequently profound. He might be a repulsive person, but he has insights to offer on life from an angle we don't see much.
I can understand why a lot of people would truly hate this book. The narration is disjointed and rambling. it's a loosely connected series of anecdotes about assorted jobs he held down, bars he drank at, and women he was abusive towards. It doesn't so much end, as Bukowski just stopped writing. but I found it effortlessly and compulsively readable. You might feel you need a bath after reading this, but you'll see life from a different perspective while you're reading it.
Recommended for those who can read different viewpoints even if you don't agree with them.
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