Factotum by Charles Bukowski

Ah Bukowski, how I love thee. I once told a friend the reason I like Bukowski so much is that he’s an asshole and makes no apology for it. I was comparing him to Jack Kerouac, who I like as well, but not as much as I like Bukowski. Somehow he ends up being a sympathetic character (well Henry Chinaski does) despite the fact that he drinks too much, is lazy, a jerk to everyone, and a real asshole to the ladies who hook up with him. I can’t help but admire someone who will throw all of those warts out there, perhaps even make them worse, and yet still make me actually like the character.

Factotum follows Henry Chinaski again, this time as he drifts from job to job in WWII America trying to make enough money to live on and pretty much making just enough to buy booze and play the horses. The whole novel pretty much consists of his applying for, getting, and losing various jobs interspersed with scenes of drunken stupors, drunken hook ups, and drunken trips to the racetrack.

I don’t know why I find it so appealing, but I do. I mean, when I describe it, it doesn’t sound all of that interesting, but it is. The language, the characters and so gritty, so urban, so dark, and so poetic and somehow Bukowski takes those dark, lost, ugly people and helps you identify with them, in his ability to not care one way or the other, makes you sympathize with them. I really can’t put my finger on just what it is, but he had it. I just wish there were more Bukowski books to read. As it is I have to parse them out here and there to make sure I don’t run out any time soon. Otherwise I would just read them back to back and forgo any other book. I can’t help it. I rarely gush over an author, but this one I totally fan girl over. Bukowski is my genius. I don’t want to be him, but I sure love to read him.

Rating: 4 ½ Purrs for pure, classic Bukowski – ugly warts and all