Hollywood

Likely to be Bukowski's tamest novel, we are granted an insiders eye into the wild whimsical world of Hollywood. We encounter ridiculous situations where spoiled artists have allowed praise to drive their ego to disportionate sizes. As usual the novel follows real events and people that have been masked with pseudonyms, so part of the joy is uncovering the faces and discovering how creative celebrities acted terribly at vain West Coast parties. I guess, Bukowski fans would say this novel lacks his typical fire, grit, desperation and rage but I think it was nice to read a novel that didn't wallow in misery and misfortune. He seems to have reached an age or level of comfort that enabled him to relax, and it's reflected in his writing. Overall, a fun book, something to kick back and relax to whilst nursing a hangover on a Sunday.

فقط از دو پاراگراف اين كتاب خوشم اومد :

١- “احساس مي كني زندگي ات با اين هدر دادن بيهوده ي زمان خمير مي شود . منظورم اين است كه فقط روي صندلي ات مي نشيني و صداي ملت را مي شنوي كه بحث مي كنند كي بايد برنده شود و چرا. واقعاً حال به هم زن است. بعضي وقت ها فكر مي كني در ديوانه خانه هستي. البته يك جور هايي بودي. هر كدام از آن آشغال ها فكر مي كند از آن يكي آشغال بيشتر مي فهمد و همه شان با هم در يك مكان بودند. من هم آنجا بودم ، با آن ها نشسته بودم.”

٢- “فكر كردم خدايا ، پس نويسنده چي؟ نويسنده گوشت و خون و مغز اين موجودات است ( يا جبران نبود تمام اين ها ) . نويسنده است كه قلبشان را به تپيدن وا مي دارد ، در دهانشان حرف مي گذارد ، بهشان زندگي مي بخشد يا مي كشدشان ، هر چيزي كه دلش بخواهد . ولي نويسنده كجاست ؟ كي از نويسنده عكس مي گيرد ؟ كي برايش دست مي زند ؟ ولي همه چيز درست بود: نويسنده همان جايي است كه بايد باشد: گوشه اي تاريك، در حال تماشا.”

Whether you like or dislike Bukowski, his earlier novels have a strong voice, even when there's little plot. This, to me, has neither voice nor plot, and feels like nothing but a novelization of his real life experience writing a movie script. Pretty boring.