Post Office: A Novel

A delirious, repetitive, repressed and hostile bureaucratic nightmare, Post Office is a novel that takes on Bukowski's decade-plus chained to the postal system. As a compelling artist, sloppy drunk, and sexually voracious gambler, Bukowski drifts in and out of his narrative with unsentimental anger and boozy energy, an undercurrent of resentment and anger everpresent until it is contrasted clean with the interest and indulgent love for the women in his life.The most provocative elements of this book was certainly the portions where we see the shuffling, confusing, scary catch-22 Brazil-esque burlesque of his work in the Post Office itself. Cycling in and out, over and over, unable to even quit his job, Bukowski created a labyrinthine grand guinol of paper and sorting boxes all standing in his way of his net drink, his next lay, and his ability to even write a halfway decent line of poetry. In many ways, this reflects how I personally see my own art in the world, and it is in this manner that I really connected with his character in this book. In real life, the genesis of this book and Bukowski’s career came from being offered a hundred bucks a month to quit the post office to promise to write full time by John Martin and Black Sparrow Press…and so we all wish for this little black sparrow angel to fly into our window someday.The most beautiful element of the book was easily the portrayal of his relationship with Betty (Jane Cooney Baker). They were perfect for each other, but in the piece the sentimentality with which he approached their relationship in both tone, diction, syntax, and other practical elements isn’t mirrored by any other writing in the book or in his approach to any other woman in any of his books. It is simply this beautiful, pure, self-destructive relationship that serves as a wholly gorgeous and holy relic that he certainly held on to for the rest of his life…and it seems that the story arc with her is one of the most beautiful things that he had ever written – the only thing that he had ever cared for snatched from him just as he realized that it was the most important thing in the world to him. What destroyed her is exactly what he tried to destroy himself with, and in her death he found the death of love, the death of a healthy sexual identity, and the death of himself.Of course, the narrative pacing and overall diction of Bukowski's narrative voice are certainly the most compelling elements of this book. There is a certain blue-collarness to his writing that offers a remarkably simple approach to what is often a much more serious and Complicated piece – but his genius lies in this very thing. Bukowski can create a story that is appropriate for all intellectual audiences and still write something that is completely different in terms of overall beauty and meaning in the English Language. This is likely why legions of writers thought they could follow in his footsteps and write when nothing could be further from the truth (and Bukowski had no problem telling them that).An excellent, excellent, excellent book that should be required reading for all American men.

Definitely a time related piece, very prosaic relative to the class and society that he was part of or in some case it’s not part of. The tail definitely reeks of a realistic understanding. of every day life.

I think Charles Bukowski’s novel “Post Office” is not a novel at all. This is a memoir. And quite obviously Henry Chinaski is Charles Bukowski. Even if some of the events did not exactly happen to Bukowski in the exact way described for Chinaski, I think they would have been included in a memoir anyway. After all, there are no memoir police patrolling the streets of non-fiction and calling out liars. Who is to question the author’s memory? Nevertheless, I think literature is full of memoirs masquerading as novels. When I think about it, if I ever attempt a memoir, I better call it fiction. Fewer people will be hurt . . . or appalled.This book is vulgar, raw, rough, and bubbling over with unsavoriness. I loved it. It is full of sex, booze, petty criminals, women of easy virtue, men of even easier virtue, and a cast of other compelling and fascinating characters. In other words, it is classic Bukowski and a wonderful experience being drawn into the dirty underside of life that is best described by Bukowski. Throughout all, there is great joy and profound sadness. And I will never feel the same about my mailman again.Bukowski can be tremendously funny and there are scenes that had me roaring. He can also be sensitive, introspective, and philosophical. This book is easy to read, very entertaining, and even educational. It is in my pile of books I will read again.

Bukowski working the Post office for 3 years, quit to try to make a living as a poet, then went back to the post office for 12 years. He knows what he is talking about. This is almost an auto-biography - sort of!

I've enjoyed Bukowski's poetry and short stories. This short novel reads like a couple shorts puffed up and linked with extra fluff. Parts are entertaining but most of it is repetitive and occasionally boring. The post office shenanigans / adventures read like a pale shadow of Miller's telegraph company rants, and many other "my work is a surreal nightmare" type stuff. The protag is, in my opinion, a very pathetic person and after a while it just gets boring. Worst thing of Bukowski's I've read. I do like much of his short work. I will probably give some of his other novels a go, but I'll get them at the library instead of feeling I kinda wasted my money.