This is my least favorite of all the Bukowski books I've read. I was dissapointed with this one after reading Postoffice and South of No North, both of which are fantastic.
I've read a few Bukowski novels recently, thanks to a large lot of books someone recently gave me, and this one is definitely memorable. He's not my favorite author (I think I said in one of the other reviews that I'm more a fan of his poetry than his novels), but this one is meaningful, somehow, probably because it's essentially a farewell letter to his faithful readers, a capstone to his prolific body of work, published in 1994 shortly before his death from leukemia. It has to be, with Lady Death as a client. It's also dedicated to Bad Writing, which tells you something about his expectations of this novel.
It (generally) tells the story of the last days of an old-school private detective in Los Angeles, who in the final days of his life encounters an endless parade of oddities and eccentricities, including a space alien in disguise, a mortician, and an assortment of underworld mob-types and loose women. There is an air of old Hollywood here, somewhat reminiscent of his other novel of the same name, but it's also something of an homage to old detective noir fiction novels, although this one is a bit out there, colonizing space aliens and whatnot. The cast of characters in this novel is certainly an eclectic bunch. The novel is allegorical, where the others are at least covertly autobiographical, but it's sometimes difficult to work out the meanings of its constituent elements. Bukowski just seems tired, and rather cynical at this point: hopelessness, disappointment, betrayal and death are all front and center. It's also quite funny, however, in a gallows-humor kind of way. One line in the book pretty much sums it up: ""'This whole thing is a bad senseless dream.'" Amen... but, it's a worthwhile read anyway.
It (generally) tells the story of the last days of an old-school private detective in Los Angeles, who in the final days of his life encounters an endless parade of oddities and eccentricities, including a space alien in disguise, a mortician, and an assortment of underworld mob-types and loose women. There is an air of old Hollywood here, somewhat reminiscent of his other novel of the same name, but it's also something of an homage to old detective noir fiction novels, although this one is a bit out there, colonizing space aliens and whatnot. The cast of characters in this novel is certainly an eclectic bunch. The novel is allegorical, where the others are at least covertly autobiographical, but it's sometimes difficult to work out the meanings of its constituent elements. Bukowski just seems tired, and rather cynical at this point: hopelessness, disappointment, betrayal and death are all front and center. It's also quite funny, however, in a gallows-humor kind of way. One line in the book pretty much sums it up: ""'This whole thing is a bad senseless dream.'" Amen... but, it's a worthwhile read anyway.
