Charles Bukowski is what I would refer to as a polarizing writer; readers either love him or hate him, and not much gray area exisits in between. Regardless of how one might feel about Bukowski's work or Bukowski the person, there is one area where Old Buk is simply beyond reproach, the thing I admire most about him - his work ethic.
Despite all of the up-and-downs of his often ramshackle life, despite his fondness for intoxication, despite his loneliness and personal problems, Bukowski made no excuses when it came to the act of writing. Unlike most writers, Bukowski actually wrote. The consistency, conscientiousness, and care he poured into the act borders on the religious, and for this the old bard deserves nothing but praise and recognition as far as I'm concerned.
Despite all of the up-and-downs of his often ramshackle life, despite his fondness for intoxication, despite his loneliness and personal problems, Bukowski made no excuses when it came to the act of writing. Unlike most writers, Bukowski actually wrote. The consistency, conscientiousness, and care he poured into the act borders on the religious, and for this the old bard deserves nothing but praise and recognition as far as I'm concerned.
RSS Feed
