You Get So Alone at Times That It Just Makes Sense

Rating:
Summary: Memorable Bukowski Book!
Review:
There are three things you must keep in mind when reading this or any Bukowski book--
1) The man spent over 1/2 of his life at the horse track.

2) The man spent the rest of the time either having sex or drinking. Usually both at once.

3) The man was a genius.

"You Get So Alone..." is by far my favorite Bukowski book, and I've read about half of his dozens of books. (Short stories and poems, usually.)
This is the one that speaks to me to the point where each time I read certain pages, I cry.

If I were you, I'd pick up this book and read the first poem "1813-1883", absorb its contents, and see how far I could get in the book without crying or laughing or shaking my head at Bukowski's truthfulness.

I can't help but think of another Amazon purchase -- The Losers' Club by Richard Perez.

I suppose that's a polite way to say that Bukowski's blunt and usually considered piggish-- for instance, a quote from the book: "my first experience in a wh*rehouse was in Tijuana..." The poem goes from there.

I know for a fact that not many women read Bukowski because he's chauvinistic... but I just keep in mind that in his generation (the same as my grandfather's), women were held in a lower regard.


Rating:
Summary: Well you gassed her up, behind the wheel...
Review: ...
With your arm around your sweet one in your Oldsmobile
Barrelin' down the boulevard
You're looking for the heart of Saturday night

You get paid on Friday, pockets are jinglin'
And you see the lights you get all tinglin'
'Cause you're cruisin' with a six
And you're looking for the heart of Saturday night

Then you comb your hair, shave your face
Tryin' to wipe out every trace
All the other days in the week you know that this'll be the Saturday
You're reachin' your peak

Stoppin' on the red, you're goin' on the green
'Cause tonight'll be like nothin' you've ever seen
And you're barrelin' down the boulevard
Lookin' for the heart of Saturday night

Tell me is it the crack of the poolballs, neon buzzin?
Telephone's ringin', it's your second cousin
Is it the barmaid that's smilin' from the corner of her eye?
Magic of the melancholy tear in your eye

Makes it kind of quiver down in the core
'Cause you're dreamin' of them Saturdays that came before
And now you're stumblin'
You're stumblin' onto the heart of Saturday night

You gassed her up and you're behind the wheel
With your arm around your sweet one in your Oldsmobile
Barrellin' down the boulevard
You're lookin' for the heart of Saturday night

Is the crack of the poolballs, neon buzzin?
Telephone's ringin', it's your second cousin
And the barmaid is smilin' from the corner of her eye
Magic of the melancholy tear in your eye

Makes it kind of special down in the core
And you're dreamin' of them Saturdays that came before
It's found you stumblin'
Stumblin' onto the heart of Saturday night
And you're stumblin'
Stumblin onto the heart of Saturday night

Once again, as always, Buk achieves perfection. Perhaps one of my most cherished collection amongst my many, many dogged, ragged Buk items. I can't do justice to this collection by trying to piece together a few ill-written words that try to capture the beauty accomplished by Buk, so I won't try. Just know that you're missing out if you haven't gotten this yet, and if you continue to pass it up. Get it now, and you'll realize that. Then, you'll finally be able to at least get some joy out of your solitude.


Rating:
Summary: Hank is top rank
Review: A collection of poems by Charles Bukowski is always a great joy. I followed his career since I was in high school back in the early 80s. He wrote a series of short stories for High Times magazine which I eagerly devoured. Then I moved on to his poetry. This collection: You Get So Alone At Times That It Just Makes Sense is from 1986 when Buk was already a bit older and more reflective. This is around the time that his work began to reveal a degree of tenderness to go with his raw tough edged muse. Many say he lost it at this point. I disagree with that assessment. True it does not display the intense passion of Love Is A Dog From Hell but it is a great work on its own merit. Open it to any page and start reading. This is still vintage Hank. Aging Buk still has more blood and guts than most poets achieve ever. Anyone can just scream and curse. Bukowski obviously achieved something greater than that. And given how some other postal workers turned out, we should be grateful that Buk took to firing poems instead of bullets. Two thumbs up!

Rating:
Summary: Another Triumph For Bukowski's Genius
Review: After I read "Last Night Of The Earth Poems", I immediatley started into this one, hoping that it would have the same tantilizing effect on me, setting my soul aflame in its amazing literary fire, consuming me.

I was not dissappointed. This book further reinforced my awe for Bukowski and his work. After this brilliant book and "Last Night Of The Earth Poems", I proceeded to collect all of the works of this great literary master. But the effect of this book is still one that has yet to be surpassed by anything, save the "Earth Poems".

Buy this book and let it mold your mind in its hands.

Rating:
Summary: Desperately Grasping for The Mantle
Review: Bukowski is a brilliant, brilliant, brilliant poet who has always impressed with his ability to make the small events of his life incredibly profound. Since I began reading Bukowski, I've picked up each of his collections with the frame of mind that this will be the backbreaker. This will be the collection which will vault Bukowski to the front of my list of favorite poets, placing him among other true originals like Pound, Cummings, and Ginsberg. Each time, Bukowski comes despairingly close. The poet produced great work upon great work but never shook the world, never changed the way I breathed with one deft stroke, never blew the roof off. Par for the course, this colletion is simply amazing but not quite earth shaking.

Rating:
Summary: I dug it.
Review: Charles Bukowski was such a talented writer, one of few true writers with the ability to compose words into beautiful lakes of refuge. His poems contained in this book are brutally honest; some of them are in a sense crude, but not without the beauty of a man who speaks his mind.

Rating:
Summary: beautiful
Review: i love this book. i adore the poetry and the achingly real life interpretation. read it.

Rating:
Summary: one of the best
Review: I recently re-read this book after a ten yr hiatus and it struck me as one of his strongest collections of poetry.Ever.
Now go away.

Rating:
Summary: its ours
Review: if you're wondering just what constitutes something like genius (years upon years of learning pooled with monstrous natural ability), check out 'it's ours', the closing poem in this collection. one of the most resonant, original poems ever written in english. how brilliant is the placement of the last word in this poem? you decide. 'it's ours' is the reward for a writer who paid his dues by the pound, searching for the perfect poem for forty years.

other highs include 'concrete', a poem about soaring eagles and imaginary infedility, 'i thought the stuff tasted worse than usual', and maybe the only other genuinely brilliant poem in the collection, 'retired', a simple, vivid, beautiful piece of writing about the author's father. pork chops, anyone?

here's a taste. this is a poem called 'helping the old'. and remember, you're never alone, not if you have access to a library, or for that matter pen and paper. adios.

I was standing in line at the bank today when the old fellow in front of me dropped his glasses (luckily, within the case) and as he bent over I saw how difficult it was for him and I Said, "wait, let me get them . . . " but as I picked them up he dropped his cane a beautiful, black polished cane and I got the glasses back to him then went for the cane steadying the old boy as I handed him his cane. he didn't speak, he just smiled at me. then he turned forward.

I stood behind him waiting my turn.

Rating:
Summary: Trashcan Lives
Review: Let's get this clear from the start: Charles Bukowski is the greatest American poet, who just happens to be unknown to the Americans I talk to. Just the other day in the library, I asked for his famous "Post Office" and they told me "Charles who?"
"You've never heard of Charles Bukowski?"
"No." The Librarian gave me a puzzled look.
"He's the greatest American poet?"
"Really?"
And so on...
What can I tell you about this book? Like in any other Buck's book there's so much trash in here that it's hard to make out what's good. There are several poems that are true masterpieces like "Trashcan Lives" or "Darkness," and some others. Would I recommend it? YES! If you're just starting to read Bukowski, don't bother with this, get an anthology. If you know Buck's works already, get this, you'll love it!