behave more honestly. They
are raw and unrefined, but
each action seems sincere, even
if that action is one coming
out of drunken pandering.
Proulx’ characters certainly
wouldnt urinate in public, and
even if her characters drink,
they certainly aren't alcoholics.
Almost all of her characters
have permanent addresses.

You could say one distinc-
tion between the writers is a
class distinction. But that'd be
the simple explanation.
Perhaps the possibility of not
having a home is what makes
Bukowski’s characters more
real; each daythey must ques-
tion where they belong. Each
day they must decide on a
course of action. Maybe that
action means drinking the
rent. Proulx’ characters have
the basics covered, they float
on securely, with no waves to
threaten their safety. And no errant
thoughts to disturb their neatly organ-
ized lives. The reader may want the
perfection extolled in these secure lives,
but it is very difficult to believe such
perfection possible. That’s another dif-
ference. It’s easier to believe in the
worst than it is to believe in the best.
Which makes Bukowski spot on in the
believability department.

Both of these writers are from a free
society and each writes about the rela-
tionship between the individual and
society—what liberties the individual
will take, and how that individual is
limited by expectation and obligation.
Society has put some limits on them.
Responding to those expectations and
obligations is what develops a character
’s mind. That the reader
ize with each of his charac-
at makes Bukowski the better

August 1998 Page 20 Reading for fun...

 

storytelle:. With Bukowski, the charac-
ters exploit their position, exposing
sincere emotion. And even if all the
reader feels is disgust for each charac-
ter, at least it is sincere disgust. No

expectations are dropped, there is never
the letdown of seeing a character fum-
ble about, and let the possibility of
personal growth slip through sweaty
fingers.

Which is just like Henry Chinaski,
Bukowski's literary alter-ego, who's
most often the narrator in Bukowski’s
stories. Which may help the reader,
who doesn’t have to familiarize himself
with a new main character for each
new story. Having a recognizable pro-
tagonist unites Bukowski's stories, but
doesn't mean that any of the stories
become indistinct, rather the constancy
of Chinaski’s presence welcomes the
reader into each new event. You may

safely anticipate anything happening—

and not be disappointed. Chinaski
is capable of developing with the
story. In his own words:

Like anybody can tell you, I am not a
very nice man. I don’t know the word. I
have always admired the villain, the out-
law, the son of a bitch. I don’t like the
clean-shaven boy with the necktie and the
good job, I like desperate men, men with
broken teeth and broken minds and broken
ways. They interest me. They are full of
surprises and explosions. I also like vile
women, drunk cursing bitches with loose
stockings and sloppy mascara faces. I’m
more interested in perverts than saints, I
can relax with bums because I am a
bum. I don’t like laws, morals, religions,
rules, I don’t like to be shaped by society.

I was drinking with Marty, the ex-
con, up in my room one night. I didn’t
have a job. I didn’t want a job. I just
wanted to sit around with my shoes off
and drink wine and talk, and laugh if
possible. Marty was a little dull, but he
had workingman’s hands, a broken nose,
mole’s eyes, and nothing much to him but
he’s been through it.

This character has freedom, exactly
the way a vagrant has freedom, the
option to decay somewhere that isn’t
conventionally accepted as a place for
rotting. Or at least the option of look-
ing at things raw; no need to polish or
refine what, at first glance, may be
unthinkable or disturbing.... These are
characters in tune with their own self-
loathing.

In a world where parents hate their
children, children become worthy of
that hatred and rather than becoming
worthy of being loved these characters
do whatever is necessary to hurt others
first. It isn't as malicious as that,
though. Because the children are sim-
ple, struggling with the basics so much,
they cannot look into that abyss of
self-analysis, never questioning their
motives or behaviour—merely behav-