Ham on Rye by Charles Bukowski

Like I said in an earlier post, I really enjoy Bukowski’s poetry but have struggled with his longer work.  This book didn’t do much to change that opinion. 

For those who haven’t read it, Ham on Rye is the story of Bukowski’s awful childhood through the eyes of his thinly-veiled alter ego, Henry Chinaski.  I found it predictable, repetitive, and forced.  By the second half of the book it was clear that there would continue to be a whole bunch of fist fights, drinking, and misery.  There would also be the same wise-cracking, sarcastic one-liners at just the right moment for maximum cool points.  I think Henry said “I’ll kill you!” or some variation of that in almost every chapter (there are 58).  I couldn’t get past that.  By the last 50 pages it was all I could see - Henry fights, Henry drinks, Henry makes goofy remark.  Repeat.  So what.  It was just like the rest of the book, gratuitous for its own sake with nothing behind it.  I guess I’ll just stick to his poetry because I must be missing something with Bukowski’s prose.  Maybe I’m just looking at it all the wrong way.  If you can enlighten me, please do.