On Love
Charles Bukowski
[Canongate]
This posthumous collection of love poems showcases Charles Bukowski’s prolificacy. Featuring 85 poems written between 1957 and 1993, the book charts the highs and lows of tumultuous relationships, and the effects of poverty and alcoholism on lovers. Bukowski’s writing is often heavily autobiographical, and the partners he had (including the less significant) are traceable across the chronological collection. As one might expect when presented with Charles Bukowski’s personal romances, the poems career between messy sexual encounters, flings with prostitutes, reflections on longer relationships, difficult break-ups, Bukowski’s own weaknesses and the comfort he finds in women. Much of Bukowski’s work focuses on the prosaic and visceral, and many of the poems here feature graphic sex. Often Bukowski presents women almost as another species; failing to understand or communicate meaningfully with women, he dwells instead on their sexuality.
However, the pleasure of Bukowski’s writing is in the revelation of beauty and emotion amid vulgarity and falseness, and pieces like ‘the first love’ and the ‘for Jane’ poems shine a light on his capacity to write moving poetry. Bukowski’s daughter is another key figure here, and his take on paternal love is surprising and touching. The poem ‘an acceptance slip’ delicately recounts Bukowski’s temperamental father enjoying one of his short stories, and ‘the first love’ is an unusual and fascinating glimpse into Bukowski’s fervent love of reading as a teenager. Despite these exceptional pieces, the bulk of this substantial book represents Bukowski’s habitual mode of writing about love. As a result the collection borders on repetitive, and buries the more interesting, unexpected moments. Bukowski’s famous quip, “I don’t try. I just type,” has an unfortunate resonance here. A more selective approach to this collection could have produced an engaging volume of poems and an exciting new take on a popular but pigeon-holed writer. Unfortunately, Bukowski’s editors appear keen for him to remain as prolific in death as he was in life.
Words: Anna-Grace Scullion
