A review by tannerjameswv
Women by Charles Bukowski

2.0

DNF.

If you’re going to give me Bukowski, give me his poetry. This longform work was redundant.

Look, I appreciate a grimy greaseball painting a grimy image — Chuck knows just how to do that, and I love him for it. But this book, short as it is, felt like a slog by the midpoint.