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A lot of people don’t understand the premise of this book. They want to know why there isn’t any Bukowski in a book about Bukowski. Well, that’s just it…it isn’t about the legendary Bukowski, it’s about the influence of Bukowski on a generation of writers who followed him into the trenches to write in their own particular style. Before Bukowski became the legendary Bukowski, when he was just another schmuck writing the not-so-great American novel, when he had a snowball’s chance in hell of catching a break, he was like some of you; living with his dreams and enjoying the fruits of his low-life, with no discernible future, hand to mouth, paycheck to paycheck…the writing more of a distraction than a way out. I’m sure that some of you readers know exactly what I’m talking about (I can’t be the only one left who hasn’t been sucked into the great American Myth machine).
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A lot of people don’t understand the premise of this book. They want to know why there isn’t any Bukowski in a book about Bukowski. Well, that’s just it…it isn’t about the legendary Bukowski, it’s about the influence of Bukowski on a generation of writers who followed him into the trenches to write in their own particular style. Before Bukowski became the legendary Bukowski, when he was just another schmuck writing the not-so-great American novel, when he had a snowball’s chance in hell of catching a break, he was like some of you; living with his dreams and enjoying the fruits of his low-life, with no discernible future, hand to mouth, paycheck to paycheck…the writing more of a distraction than a way out. I’m sure that some of you readers know exactly what I’m talking about (I can’t be the only one left who hasn’t been sucked into the great American Myth machine).