I hate Charles Buckowski. I don’t dislike his writing, quite the opposite. But after reading Notes of a Dirty Old Man, you really grow to hate the man on a deeply personal level, or at least I did. Here is this obviously brilliant and intelligent man engaging in the most… I would call it depraved, but its too low brow to be called that, behaviour. We’re talking everything from buggery, to theft, cheating creditors, to brawling over the last dregs in a bottle wine.
The book is a mishmash of collected anecdotes from throughout the writers life and is witty, and forthright in many ways, but all the way through out I couldn’t get the idea out of my head, that this man was living a completely wasted life. It was good to cross this piece off the thirty books I want to read before I turn 30, if only because it made me feel that I had grown up considerably more than Mr Buckowski had by the time he was 35.
I think I may seek out some more of Charles Buckowski’s work, if only as he has now become a protagonist that I love to hate.