Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #224912 in Books
• Published on: 2006-01
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Binding: Paperback
• 288 pages

Customer Reviews

Surprisingly Good
Like many folks, I was reluctant to pick up this volume of the late great Buk's work. Basically, I expected the worst: scraps of poems, stuff he discarded and lined his shoes with. Instead "Slouching Toward Nirvana" is damn good! At almost 300 pages, this is a substantial collection that recalls books like, "Some Time You Get So Alone..." and "Last Night of the Earth Poems" -- 2 classic, very readable later Bukowski collections.

If you're a fan (as I am), you'll be gratified. There's plenty of references to Bukowski's alter ego, Henry Chinaski; plenty of bittersweet dirty realism that Bukowski is known for; plenty of dark humor and blunt honesty and grit.

John Martin (his former publisher, who arranged this collection) divides the work into four themed sections. The first compiles the sort of autobiographical vignettes that made Bukowski famous (deadpan lines such as "so I took the bus to Houston, got a job in a gas station/ and switched from wine to vodka" abound), while the second is devoted to the many, many women with whom Bukowski dallied (from "damsels of the night" to a troubled girlfriend captured by the aptly titled "the wine that roared"). The last two sections find Bukowski exploring his fears and loneliness, and finally his mortality, with characteristic candor.

Definitely check out this book. Also recommended by Buk: "Play the Piano Drunk...", "Last Night of the Earth Poems," "Some Time You Get So Alone...," finally I need to recommend another recent book, "The Losers' Club: Complete Restored Edition" by Richard Perez (in which Bukowski appears as a character) -- all excellent Amazon picks!

Genius or just plain lazy?
It's a fast read, even at 300 pages. Bukowski writes about the track, getting old, films, drink, women...the usual. The problem is most of the poems seem lazy. There's nothing 'poetic' about these poems - they read like notes written on paper scraps, which is their charm. They're rough, simple, unpretentious musings tinged with a heavy sadness. Even Chinaski seems tired and old.

Amid the verses, a poem shines through with startling brilliance, then it's business as usual. Comparing this to the 'Roominghouse Madrigals', 'Slouching Towards Nirvana' is an easier read, but you miss the wasted style of Bukowski's early 'in extremis' ramblings. The man wrote genius lines, but I'm torn as to whether or not this collection is admirable or just laziness. Regardless, Bukowski is always readable and never dull, so it's well worth checking out.