Post Office
Charles Bukowski
Women were meant to suffer; no wonder they asked for constant declarations of love (155).
Anyone who knows me even in the slightest knows my adoration for Bukowski. However, I've never been a fan of his novels, for various reasons, in the way I am of his poetry. Ham on Rye fell short, Women was a disappointment, but Post Office found me at the right point. On point. Disenchanted and bored.
It was well paced, well described and had good humor to it. Bukowski's soft side came out more than it had in any of his other novel projects--part pathetic, part heart, part drunk. That's what I love about him so much.
I found the situation with Fay was a bit out of the ordinary, especially since she has "the girl," of whom Buk is apparently the father. It was sentimental and poorly paced comparatively. Interesting, however, that his job spiraled afterward--perhaps the point of Fay and her pregnancy was merely a cooked-up catalyst to expose that descent. Maybe he's trying to expose that he's just a big softy afterall.
Regardless, it was one of the best books (certainly the easiest book) I've read this year. It is nice to read something familiar and comforting. Sometimes I feel I can just curl up inside of Buk's words and pass out.
Next Book: An Ideal Husband, because I'm merely weeks away from having my own.
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