The Roaring 20s

Best Bukowski Quotes

Yesterday's birthday post for Bukowski got some great responses in the comments.  Thanks to everyone who submitted their favorite CB quote! Check 'em out (more after the jump):

“Sometimes you just have to pee in the sink.”

"The shortest distance between two points is often unbearable."

"I wish to weep but sorrow is stupid. I wish to believe but belief is a graveyard."

"It was better for me when I could imagine greatness in others, even if it wasn't always there."

"Some people never go crazy. What truly horrible lives they must live."

"Genius might be the ablity to say a profound thing in a simple way."

Bukowski on his Birthday

If I had a few minutes, I could flip through any Bukowski collection on my desk and find you a great quote.  Something accessible. Something wry.  Something pained, something hilarious.  A verse that careens about the page in longing or madness, but in a diguise of plain clothes.  I could find you poetry incognito: words that move the reluctant, or anyone who complains about meter and abstractions, the detached "elitism" of poetry.  Read this:  

"there is a loneliness in the world so great
that you can see it in the slow movement of
the hands of a clock.

people so tired
mutilated
either by love or no love."

There is a reason why we're still reading Charles Bukowski, even if Modest Mouse thinks he's an asshole.  And today, August 16th, would have been his 90th birthday.  To mark the occasion, I'm asking for your favorite Bukowski quote.  Submit one in the comments and I'll send you a complimentary copy of The Continual Condition, Ecco's latest posthumous collection (limited to the first 15).  Take a swig of whiskey and get started...

Link Love

Sometimes, during the peak of summer, I feel as though my attention is wandering.  With that in mind, here's a little collection of links and book news that might strike your fancy, all with minimal attention required.

• You knew I was on a Jane Austen kick, but here's a video for anyone reluctant to enjoy 19th century Brit-Lit. Please to enjoy Jane Austen's Fight Club.
• Jezebel's 10 Not-Trashy (But Totally Entertaining) Beach Reads are amazing--I have, in fact, read many of these on a beach chair, including A.S. Byatt's Possession and Nabokov's Lolita. Sadie Stein is kind of my kindred.
• Congrats to Deborah Johnson, author of The Air Between Us, which just won the Mississippi Library Association's Best Novel Prize.
• Found this on Galleycat today: Jeff Buckley meets Romeo and Juliet. If this musical includes Buckley's rendition of "Lilac Wine," I will swoon straightaway.
• Mad Men is back, and my inner Joan Holloway is rejoicing! If your hunger for pop culture criticism hasn't been sated, do yourself a favor and check out Mad Men Unbuttoned and the accompanying piece in The New Yorker.
• I went on a poetry binge the other day and re-read "Courage" by Anne Sexton. If you're having a rough time, or know someone who is, read this and/or forward it along.
• Lastly, ever since seeing him in Henry IV (and in French Kiss), I've nursed a wicked crush on Kevin Kline. (This blog is a safe space, so save your judgments for Twitter). Anyway, this trailer for The Extra Man reminded me he's still got it.

Music and Words, Contra and Cupcakes

There are perks to being a New Yorker. Despite roaches, subway harassment, expensive everythings, and rough commutes, New York is still a hub for the arty, the literate, and the curious.   Sure, appearing world-weary and jaded is as essential to local hipsterdom as skinny jeans and macrobiotic smoothies.  But last night's event at the NYPL was proof that sometimes, every now and again, living here is plain heavenly—no irony allowed.  I attended Music & Words, a Young Lions event at the NYPL, where wine and cupcakes accompanied Ezra Koenig, lead singer of Vampire Weekend, in conversation with author John Wray (check out his latest novel, Lowboy, here). The two appeared together to discuss the intersection of music and literature, or rather, the uncanny impact of books on lyrics. 

Despite the fact that his band’s last album debuted at #1, Koenig was markedly modest.  He talked about using short story material for VW’s self-titled debut, his now-public love for Sugar Hill Gang’s Rapper’s Delight, and the necessity of specifics, which ground writing in a sense of time and place.  He also noted that while you aren’t apt to find many teenagers performing close readings of poetry, they seem to be reading lyrics that way, which is a wonderful thing. 

I’ve been thinking a bit about literary references in music, from Joni Mitchell quoting Shakespeare's Julius Caesar (“I am as constant as the Northern Star”) to The Police and Lolita (see “Don’t Stand So Close to Me.”) Do you have a favorite literary/musical allusion? Leave a comment with your pick, and I’ll send you a copy of Please: Fiction Inspired by The Smiths (limited to the first 20).  And for more information on joining The Young Lions, click here. 

A stamp for Bukowski!

Time is of the essence, people! On March 1st, a petition will be submitted, proposing the creation of a postage stamp in honor of Charles Bukowski.  In case you need a reason to add your voice to the chorus, I'll share a personal story that will most likely make me look like an enormous nerd.  Back in high school, I was a formalist, loved poetry with rhyme and meter, and wrote my own verses that way.  But when I hit 17, I found myself chafing under the constraints of scansion.  I discovered Bukowski's "Bluebird" and never looked back.  I still love a good sonnet, but there was something about the accessibility of Bukowski, the simplicity and grittiness, that helped me cull my own experiences and write more honestly.  If you love his work as much as I do, sign your name to the petition.  And don't miss Ecco's latest posthumous collection, The Continual Condition.         

The Great Lover

You can tell that Jill Dawson is a poet.  By that, I mean her prose is sumptuous.  It's been a long time since I read a book and underlined passages, but I found myself doing just that for The Great Lover.  Dawson's imagery is so wonderfully inventive, her metaphors so surprising, I was a bit in awe.  If you're a fan of A.S. Byatt or Ian McEwan, I think it's safe to say you'll enjoy this book. The Great Lover tells the story of Rupert Brooke, the charismatic, troubled and talented English poet of the early 20th century.  Along with excerpts of Brooke's poetry and letters, there are two narratives: Rupert's distinct voice, and that of Nell Golightly, the complex, spirited housemaid who falls in love with him.  The Great Lover is a sharp look at love--who we adore and why-- and all the myriad, unanswered questions of the human heart.  It's a few months before the book comes out here, but I just had to share.  With any luck, you'll want to score yourself a copy on June 1st.       

Books to Cure the 'Turkey Drop' Blues

If you haven't heard of the sinister phenomenon known as the 'Turkey Drop,' I am here to inform you.  Jezebel (courtesy of NPR) tells us that the 'Turkey Drop' is a break-up which occurs after Thanksgiving and before Christmas, most commonly seen among college freshmen.  The 'Turkey Drop' is a break-up which is catalyzed partially, or mostly, by the stress of the holidays.   It's only a rock-solid relationship that can withstand the barrage of drunken relatives, embarrassing family anecdotes, holiday weight-gain, and table-side political arguments.  If you, or a loved one, is the victim of a Turkey Drop, here are two books that might soften the blow in ways sweet potato pie cannot:

Six-Word Memoirs on Love and Heartbreak

 

 

Relationship Obits

If you like your romantic debacles in poetry form, do yourself a favor and check out my co-worker Lauren's blog, Bad Date Lemonade.  When Lauren isn't writing missives on course adoptions and processing desk copy requests, she posts haikus, sonnets, and free verse inspired by traumatic dating experiences.  As a bonus, if you can spot which poem is mine (names have been changed) I'll give you your choice of the two books I just mentioned. 

Now go cry into your pie.