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gkcnoble's review against another edition
challenging
dark
emotional
reflective
sad
tense
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? N/A
- Strong character development? N/A
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
2.25
I think of poetry as if it were a spectrum of colours. In Bukowski's Love Is A Dog From Hell, two colours stand out: a vivid red, which might symbolise Bukowski's self-loathing, inner criticism, and addictions, while a dark grey might reflect his depressed views of himself and the world, including women.
Bukowski's unique talent lies in his ability to work with multiple layers of meaning within a single poem, deftly transitioning from daily, mundane themes to psychoanalytic revelations of his inner world. For example, in the given excerpt, Bukowski goes beyond simply describing an overcast day. Instead, he uses the concept of bad weather to illustrate his experiences with unemployment while parading his poverty before a group of working-class men:
The worst day
it was raining very hard I didn't have a raincoat so
I put on a very old coat I hadn't worn for months while they were working.
Bukowski's Love Is A Dog From Hell is not an easy read to digest. His poetry mirrors the fragmented parts of himself, disclosing the poet’s battle with mental illness and the controversial nature of his attitudes toward women and relationships. In my view, his writing was not intended to shock audiences but rather as a means of self-expression; perhaps, it became a channel for venting and reconciling his inner turmoil.
I wrote a poem summarising Bukowski's take on relationships and alcoholism:
Bukowski Love
I told her the truth.
It didn't work.
I guess she has a low tolerance for transparency.
I was downplaying my shady recovery when she broke down (just like my Beetle) and screamed that
I WASN'T GOOD ENOUGH FOR HER OR ANYBODY ELSE, AS A MATTER OF FACT.
She is a strong woman today.
Back then, with panda eyes, a red face and a broken heel.
It was when she twisted her ankle and broke her heel that I realised
She was seesawing her way out of my life.
So, I chased after her lopsided hips,
catching my breath I screamed back,
ALCOHOL IS NO LONGER RELEVANT.
After a few minutes of side stitch agony, she turned around,
threw me the look of death,
aimed at the heart
Thumped it with the damn heel.
The wound is still sour, just like my whiskey.
~ gissia
Bukowski's unique talent lies in his ability to work with multiple layers of meaning within a single poem, deftly transitioning from daily, mundane themes to psychoanalytic revelations of his inner world. For example, in the given excerpt, Bukowski goes beyond simply describing an overcast day. Instead, he uses the concept of bad weather to illustrate his experiences with unemployment while parading his poverty before a group of working-class men:
The worst day
it was raining very hard I didn't have a raincoat so
I put on a very old coat I hadn't worn for months while they were working.
Bukowski's Love Is A Dog From Hell is not an easy read to digest. His poetry mirrors the fragmented parts of himself, disclosing the poet’s battle with mental illness and the controversial nature of his attitudes toward women and relationships. In my view, his writing was not intended to shock audiences but rather as a means of self-expression; perhaps, it became a channel for venting and reconciling his inner turmoil.
I wrote a poem summarising Bukowski's take on relationships and alcoholism:
Bukowski Love
I told her the truth.
It didn't work.
I guess she has a low tolerance for transparency.
I was downplaying my shady recovery when she broke down (just like my Beetle) and screamed that
I WASN'T GOOD ENOUGH FOR HER OR ANYBODY ELSE, AS A MATTER OF FACT.
She is a strong woman today.
Back then, with panda eyes, a red face and a broken heel.
It was when she twisted her ankle and broke her heel that I realised
She was seesawing her way out of my life.
So, I chased after her lopsided hips,
catching my breath I screamed back,
ALCOHOL IS NO LONGER RELEVANT.
After a few minutes of side stitch agony, she turned around,
threw me the look of death,
aimed at the heart
Thumped it with the damn heel.
The wound is still sour, just like my whiskey.
~ gissia
Content Warnings
Graphic: Addiction, Alcoholism, Body shaming, Bullying, Cursing, Drug use, Emotional abuse, Fatphobia, Homophobia, Infidelity, Suicidal thoughts, Grief, and Alcohol