Roominghouse Madrigals: Early Selected Poems, 1946-1966 Book

This book meant a lot to me, so I thought I would go back through it and read the random love notes I wrote to Bukowski and the lines I underlined. I know this review won't be noteworthy in any sense, but it is nice to go back through a book you love and remember why you decided to love it the first time you read it.

I am not one for re-reading; I am the worst culprit. I do underline for the sake of reading my favorite parts over and over again, but I typically do not re-read an entire book.

Bukowski has been more to me than just a writer I admire and aspire to be. He got me through my senior year of high school up until this point, where I find myself an army wife who teaches grammar at a community college.

Bukowski makes me want to dream bigger for myself, no matter where I am at in my life.

What I love about this book, in particular, is the way his writing WAS his life during this time. In a lot of his later works, he uses writing the way he used gambling or fucking or unemployment; they were factors in his life. What is special in this book is the fact that writing isn't a factor. He IS a writer, and the typewriter was almost another limb on his body. He HAD to write. It wasn't second nature; it was essential.

Because of his necessity, it makes the way he loves, the way he regrets, and the way he rejects so much more meaningful. I know I am only 23, but I remember when writing was as necessary as breathing, and I can't remember a better time in my life for experiencing the things around me. I hope it isn't just a phase in my life because I appreciate how much this necessity affected Bukowski's work.

I prefer his poetry to his novels and short stories, but I have always loved Bukowski's honesty in his writing above all, and I think he really gets to this honesty in his early works simply because he was not self-aware of his writing yet. It wasn't just a way to pay the bills; it was a way to live, and it is especially prevalent in this book.