Screams from the Balcony is a collection of letters chronicling Charles Bukowski's life as he tries to get published and work at a postal office, all while drinking and gambling.
Henry Charles Bukowski (born as Heinrich Karl Bukowski) was a German-born American poet, novelist and short story writer. His writing was influenced by the social, cultural and economic ambience of his home city of Los Angeles.It is marked by an emphasis on the ordinary lives of poor Americans, the act of writing, alcohol, relationships with women and the drudgery of work. Bukowski wrote thousands of poems, hundreds of short stories and six novels, eventually publishing over sixty books
Charles Bukowski was the only child of an American soldier and a German mother. At the age of three, he came with his family to the United States and grew up in Los Angeles. He attended Los Angeles City College from 1939 to 1941, then left school and moved to New York City to become a writer. His lack of publishing success at this time caused him to give up writing in 1946 and spurred a ten-year stint of heavy drinking. After he developed a bleeding ulcer, he decided to take up writing again. He worked a wide range of jobs to support his writing, including dishwasher, truck driver and loader, mail carrier, guard, gas station attendant, stock boy, warehouse worker, shipping clerk, post office clerk, parking lot attendant, Red Cross orderly, and elevator operator. He also worked in a dog biscuit factory, a slaughterhouse, a cake and cookie factory, and he hung posters in New York City subways.
Bukowski published his first story when he was twenty-four and began writing poetry at the age of thirty-five. His first book of poetry was published in 1959; he went on to publish more than forty-five books of poetry and prose, including Pulp (1994), Screams from the Balcony (1993), and The Last Night of the Earth Poems (1992).
He died of leukemia in San Pedro on March 9, 1994.
maybe my last letter offended you? remember being drunk as usual but remember mentioning something about a desire to rape eleven year old girls. I said desire, not actuality. in other words, if you had an eleven year old daughter staying with me you might consider her pretty safe, at least a lot safer than with men who won't admit their desires even to themselves, or if to themselves, then not to the rest of the world. I am not saying that I am anything special but as I say that if you take offense at my naturalism, at that which nature has put into me, then, you are a damn fool.
A magnificent collection of Charles Bukowski's letters covering 1960-1970. These are the years when Bukowski worked as a postal officer and wrote, drank and smoked his way into literary history. A fascinating insight into the creative process. Bukowski's letters are poems and stories in themselves and the accumulation of ideas, thoughts, feelings and incidents make for a great read. The care he shows for his daughter is in stark contradiction to the man and writer many of his peers didn't know. This book is a great way for the uninitiated to become familiar with this writer. I enjoy Bukowski so much I had part of him stained onto my arm. I'll leave you with one of my favourite Bukowski quotes, '...there are men that I would want to drink beer with, there are women I would want to fuck, that is as far as my love goes..." How sweet is this man?
Bukowski has become synonymous with cynical poetry. Several movies have been based either on his life or on characters he created.
Generally, I cannot stand poetry that wasn't written by me. Bukowski is an exception to this rule, and this collection contains most of my favorites ("The Slim Killers" and "Get the Nose" immediately come to mind).
If you're looking for HallMark sentiments, look elsewhere. Bukowski wrote mostly about boozing, womanizing and his own writing process. His thoughts are nearly always very dark, raw, and often rude. This is why generations of beats, punks and other outcasts have adopted him as a literary hero, when such people actually read.
“I’ve had so many knives stuck into me, when they hand me a flower I can’t quite make out what it is. It takes time.”
I love CB and had never heard of these works until I came across this quote. Intrigued I decided to read it and the collection of letters are an interesting insight into a jaded talent. I enjoyed the reading.
Read all the Bukowski books when I was young, found his writings when I was in junior high through his column in the LA Free Press. I picked this up at a used book store recently and really enjoyed the meatiness of it. I still pick up his early books from time to time and skim them but they don't have the impact on me they did when I was younger. His fiction and poetry skim the surface of the life of the alcoholic outsider, albeit in a quite charming way. The letters however have a more - dare I say genuine - immediacy to them. He has a knack for writing the way most people think in these missives. Something that is very difficult to pull off.
With vivid, blue-collar honesty and fearless self-deprecation Buk reveals his rough self abuse and tireless work-ethic. Is he always charming and fair? Hardly. His is a street-level rationalism that grades into misanthropic ugliness often. But it’s not anything we haven’t all imagined. This, with his adoration for his little daughter, makes him as real, if somewhat maddening, a literary character as Miller or Mailer.
He endlessly bemoans his old age and lack of health but drinks to oblivion and is only in his 40s. The waste of shitty work is on stage and this particular decade sees him reach his goal of leaving the 9-5 behind.
A collection of Bukowski's letters ranging from 1950s to 1970. Reading them you can explore the process that took Bukowski from his early publishing cameos to his decision to take a chance as a full time writer in late 1969. There's a bit of everything... dull, hilarious, mad, tender or fun letters. A vast majority of them were written when Buks got drunk.
I enjoyed the book, but I would only recommend it to hardcore Bukowski fans. Not all the letters were up to my expectations; but this is still an interesting material to know more about the man himself.
Heeft zijn tijd geduurd, maar ben er dan toch doorheen geraakt. Bukowski is een echte 'authentic', en uniek in zijn soort was hij ook (lees: hij was één van de weinige alcoholics/schrijvers die er toch in slaagde werk van hoge kwaliteit af te leveren) maar de brieven zijn te veel van het goede, of veeleer, het slechte. 5% geweldige literatuur, 95% dronkemanspraat (en niet van het amusante noch onderhoudende soort). Enkel voor de die-hard fans, en dan nog: beter iets anders lezen.
A compilation of letters from the legendary man himself to others. He speaks of all sorts of things, but the most interesting letters to me were the ones where he talked about what it meant to have a soul and his life philosophies.
Great for Bukowski fans but not a not for 1st time readers. This is a good book to read in short bursts. These letters are full of energy and vibrant language but occasionally meander.
Obožavam da čitam pisma. Pokažu ti ovu drugu stranu čovjeka, onu pravu stranu. Došao sam do saznanja da je Bukovski ona osoba, onaj pisac kog vidite u filmovima. Bar sam ja takvu sliku sebi stvorio u glavi. Osoba koja pije, puši, jebe šta stigne, osoba koja je žalosna, tužna i koju možda treba žaliti, ali onda opet nikako ne. Neko ko je čudan, na momente lijep u pisanju i razmišljanju, neko ko je sirov, primitivan i drugačiji. Nije mi jasno zašto svako ima potrebu da citira baš njega, ali mislim da me nije privukao čitanju svojih djela. Ko zna, možda nekad i pročitam neko. Sve u svemu, nisu najbolja pisma koja sam čitao, a daleko od toga da nisu bitna i zanimljiva.
"Hamsun never ran out of things to say because Hamsun never stopped living. Hemingway stopped, or lived in the same way. Sherwood Anderson never stopped living. And then there are always little men in back rooms, like me, talking about their betters, saying what's right and what's wrong with them."
*
"These people don't understand that the living takes time and that the talking about it is unnecessary. You do. I think that when they knock on your door you feel the same way I do. Because a man needs 2 cars, a tv set, 12 pairs of shoes for his wife, this signifies to me only an unhandsome sort of greed that is needed to fill a hole where something else should be."
*
"It is better for the artist to work out of a vacuum, going from creation to creation, each a new beginning, until it is all over, until he is dead in the sense that he can no longer create or he can no longer create because he is dead. The latter, of course, is preferable."
*
"Keep your bones in good motion, kid, and quietly consume and digest what is necessary. I think it is not so much important to build a literary thing as it is not to hurt things. I think it is important to be quiet and in love with park benches; solve whole areas of pain by walking across a rug. You got it. Dip the brush in turpentine."
"I pick up a poetry magazine, flip the pages, count the stars, moon, and frustrations, yawn, piss out my beer and pick up the want-ads. I am sitting in a cheap Hollywood apartment pretending to be a poet but sick and dull and the clouds are coming over the fake paper mountains and I peck away at these stupid keys, it's 12 degrees in Moscow and it's snowing; a boil is forming between my eyes and somewhere between Pedro and Palo Alto I lost the will to fight: the liquor store man knows me like a cousin: he cracks the paper bag and looks like a photograph of Francis Thompson." "Hank's" Letter to the editor of Hearse magazine, December, 1959