In the winter of 2019, I visited the most popular bookstore in the city of Adelaide, looking for Charles Bukowski. I’d expected to find him right away, perhaps propped up against Keats, Hemmingway, or the Brontë sisters. After all, Bukowski had been a prolific and highly influential writer, having published over forty-five books of poetry and prose throughout the twentieth century. And yet, the bookstores of South Australia’s capital city were devoid of his works. Curious, I asked an employee if the store sold any books by Charles Bukowski. The woman—young, pretty, and clearly well-read—scrunched up her face.
‘We don’t sell Bukowski here,’ she told me. ‘We don’t support his misogynistic outlook.’
Then, she looked over my shoulder, waved, and served the next customer. I was startled, even frightened, by her response. Something about her cool dismissal of a literary icon, her complete shut-down of some of the most influential works of the twentieth century, felt jarring. It made me wonder: what would become of someone like Bukowski, who had written so beautifully and prolifically, but who has also been often critiqued regarding his sexist, misogynistic views? Would new generations, with their growing diversity and inclusive, egalitarian values, even consider reading someone like Bukowski? Should they?
As a young woman myself, one who sits in the narrow margin between Millennial and Gen Z, I’d like to say yes, we should read Bukowski. To study Bukowski is to better understand the literary landscape of the twentieth century, while also appreciating the sheer quality of Bukowski’s writing. One of his most famous poetry collections, Love is a Dog From Hell (1977), offers stunning examples of Bukowski’s ability to observe and humanise the outcasts of his society—namely, people who were poor, mentally ill, sexually promiscuous, and abused addictive substances. In his poem, Private First Class, Bukowski describes one of these ‘outcasts’, stating:
‘He wore an L.A. Rams sweatshirt with the sleeves cut off… and he wore a green beret / walked very straight… he was black in brown walking shorts / hair dyed blonde / he never bothered anybody / he stole a few babies / and ran off cackling / but he always returned the infants unharmed.’ [1]
What is most striking about this passage is Bukowski’s willingness to observe, recount, and humanise those who have been traditionally marginalised, including people of colour, people with mental illnesses, and people who have been incarcerated. Essentially, Bukowski could have written about any number of more ‘acceptable’ subjects—the people of white, middle-class America, for example—but he chose to write about those who were undervalued in his society, and in a way that was without judgement or contempt. In thinking back to the young woman in the bookstore, I think that by dismissing and boycotting the works of Bukowski, new generations of readers may miss out on experiencing this type of high-quality literature, and in turn, the way it humanised and immortalised those who were otherwise neglected and marginalised in Bukowski’s place and time. In short, it would be a terrible shame.
Bukowski also had much to say on the topic of love, sex, and relationships. Love is a Dog from Hell (1977) features dozens of poems about his relations with girlfriends, ex-girlfriends, mistresses, and sex workers. In this focus, we find what is the most common criticism levelled against Bukowski, namely his sexist and misogynistic attitudes towards women. Interestingly, when it comes to the subject of women, Bukowski contradicts himself so often it is almost disorientating. Take, for example, this passage from his poem, Quiet Clean Girls in Gingham Dresses:
‘All I’ve ever known are pill freaks, alcoholics, whores, ex-prostitutes, madwomen… I need a good woman… I need a good woman so badly that I can taste her in the air.’ [2]
In this excerpt alone, Bukowski centres his desire to form a genuine connection and mutually-respectful relationship with a ‘good woman’, while also using phrases such as ‘whores’ and ‘madwomen’, which undermine and offend most women. Furthermore, Bukowski also later contradicts himself in a poem titled Pacific Telephone, in which he recounts a time where he was given the opportunity to build a functional relationship with a ‘good woman’, but ultimately leaves her for a ‘wench’ who phoned to ask for money. These types of contradictions, alongside Bukowski’s use of derogatory terms, certainly support the idea that he was sexist and misogynistic. This is an issue that many contemporary readers, particularly Generation Z, may grapple with when reading Bukowski’s works, as this generation has vastly different attitudes, opinions, and values regarding women. However, as a young woman, I still find value in reading Bukowski’s work because of its poignant story-telling, beautifully-crafted prose, and raw, honest recounts of his experiences. The way he expresses his longing for love and struggles with self-sabotage is particularly touching. I believe that others will find value in his work too, but may never realise this if they don’t read Bukowski due to his criticisms. Again, this would be a terrible shame.
Furthermore, I feel that Generation Z may also relate to Bukowski’s struggles with addiction, mental health, and low self-worth. In his poem, Alone with Everybody, Bukowski expresses his deep, empty loneliness in the lines:
‘We are all trapped by a singular fate / nobody ever finds the one / the city dumps fill / the junkyards fill / the madhouses fill / the hospitals fill / the graveyards fill / nothing else fills.’ [3]
Likewise, he also expresses his feelings of worthlessness, insecurity, and inadequacy in poems such as Imagination and Reality, where he describes looking through the cupboards and closets of women he desires in fear of finding a better man inside.
‘I expect to find the husband / or lover and he’ll tell me: / ‘hey, buddy… I can fix things… I make my own oil changes. I can shoot / pool, bowl, and I can finish 5th or / 6th in any cross-country marathon / anywhere’… and I will leave before he can challenge me.’ [4]
In attempting to manage his feelings of loneliness, sadness, and inadequacy, Bukowski often turns to his addictions with alcohol and gambling. In his poem, Beer, he writes:
‘I don’t know how many bottles of beer / I have consumed while waiting for things / to get better.’ [5]
These types of feelings, behaviours, and experiences may resonate with Generation Z, who continue to experience alarmingly high rates of depression, anxiety, suicide, technology addiction, and feelings of low self-worth, influenced by social media. This mental health crisis has also been exacerbated by the global pandemic of 2020 and 2021, as members of all generations experienced job loss, social isolation, and financial stress. Therefore, Generation Z may understand and relate to Bukowski’s struggles with depression, addiction, and low self-worth in a new and unique way, which may be valuable to many young readers. It was certainly valuable to me.
After my encounter in the Adelaide bookstore, I felt disheartened at the prospect that my generation may not be able to experience and enjoy the literary works of Charles Bukowski. I feared that the prevalent criticisms regarding his misogyny would prevent young readers from ever picking up one of his books, and thus result in my generation missing out on the joys and heartaches that come from reading his work. It is true that some may grapple with the fact that Bukowski was likely misogynistic, but I feel that Generation Z will find value in reading his work due to the sheer quality of his writing, which can be seen in his poems regarding the outcasts of his society. Likewise, Bukowski’s writing on women, albeit sexist in some places, conveys a great gift for storytelling and features beautifully-crafted prose, which I, as a young woman, find value in and feel that others will find value in also. I also believe that Generation Z may resonate with and relate to Bukowski’s struggles with mental health, addiction, and low self-worth, as these are issues which the majority of young people contend with in the twenty-first century. Overall, I don’t know if my generation will give Bukowski a chance, or, if they did, how he might be perceived in the era of political correctness and cancel culture. However, when it comes to honest, poignant, and heart-wrenching prose, I think we could do a lot worse than Charles Bukowski.
Bibliography
Bukowski, Charles. Love is a Dog From Hell. Harper Collins. 1977
Footnotes
[1] Bukowski, Love is a Dog From Hell. p. 228.
[2] Bukowski, p. 74.
[3] Bukowski, p. 97-98.
[4] Bukowski, p. 135.
[5] Bukowski, p. 288.
Over the last eleven years, A.G. Travers has written four novels, six novellas, and over three hundred and fifty poems. Her poetry has been published in Verse Magazine and In Parentheses. Currently, A.G. Travers is writing her fifth novel and studying education and creative writing at the University of South Australia.