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Charles Bukowski, "Screams from the Balcony: Selected Letters, 1960 � 1970"

Started April 9 � Finished April 14, 2002; 375 pages. Posted 14 April 2002

I hear a lot of people complain that the telephone and e-mail have killed the art of letter writing. Maybe that�s true in most cases, but as this book starts in 1960, it seems like the art was already on its way out.

As this collection begins, most letters are along the lines of, �Dear ____, I am drunk. Where�s that money you owe me? �Buk.� It�s hard to believe he would bother wasting the postage and paper to write this stuff out, but then again he worked at the post office so he probably wasn�t paying anything.

As I read through these I�m thinking, �dear god, and this is the first volume of a set of three that I�m going to have to wade through! What the hell was I thinking?�

Frankly, the whole idea of putting out a book of letters is a little weird. I�ve read some collections before, (Steinbeck and Hunter S. Thompson) and the process seemed to work in those instances, because it was either a nice insight into the writing mindset (Steinbeck), or it just happened to be funny as hell (Thompson. In it, for example, there�s one letter to a jacket manufacturer who sold a shoddy product that�s just brilliant.)

That�s the stuff I like. If you�re going to write anybody, why not make it interesting? And you can keep your smart mouth shut, thank you.

Fortunately, as the years progress Bukowski�s letters actually get better. This happens just about the same time he started writing short stories instead of focusing exclusively focusing on poetry. If you think about it, some of those letters could be considered poetry. Consider this:

Dear ____,
I am
drunk.
Where�s that money
you
owe
me?

�Buk.

Looks like one of his lame poems, doesn�t it? DOESN�T IT?!?

Anyway, when he started writing fiction, his letters even start to sound like his short stories, which is a good thing. It�s also weird to realize he was already hugely popular before his first novel even came out, even being nominated for the Pulitzer Prize, yet still managed to stay broke.

After I�m dead and they release a collection of my letters, it�s going to be a pretty damn big book, as I have the opposite problem of Bukowski � when I write a letter, it usually goes on for five or six pages, or in the case of my father, who has to wait usually six months to a year between letters, he gets a huge manuscript that�s usually over 17 pages long, single spaced.

My sister just informed me that he would prefer if I sent frequent letters that went along the lines of the �Dear ____, I am drunk. Send money. -Dean� variety, as he gets overwhelmed to receive a single letter that�s the size of a phone book.

Which reminds me, I have a 25-page letter that I still need to send to him.


Rating: Worth Used Prices.

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