Poor. 478 p. Covers stained, chipped and worn with tear on front. Purple stain to inside front cover and first four pages along bottom. Ffep has writing and price in pencil. Hinge cracked in front. First three pages have tear near spine. Upper and lower corners of pages are curled and some are creased. Pages 13-21 have separated about an inch at bottom. Pages 22-25 loose. Page 24 has tear to fore edge. The book is otherwise unmarked.
Fair. 0872860612 Covers show creasing, rubbing, browning and fading. Spine shows some browning and spotting and has a crease. Front cover is coming loose from spine for about 2 inches at the bottom. Previous owner's name in ink on cover page.
ISBN 0872860612. Trade Paperback. 1977 printing of 1964 original. Minor wear to corners and edges of covers; slight spine cock; minor spine edge rub and creasing; previous store stamp at upper right hand corner of front end paper (1/2"x1"); slight browning to edges throughout; scratch across front cover; minor dust soiling to edges and back cover; otherwise tight, sound and unmarked in Good to Very Good condition.
Very Good. Edited by Gail Chiarrello. This is the seventh printing published in 1982. Not an ex-library copy. No remainder marks. No names or marks in the text. Most books shipped within 24 hours. All books mailed with Delivery Confirmation. Small area at the bottom or the rear cover is rubbed. Very good condition. Selling Used and Rare books on line since 1998 and from our bookstore in the heart of the Bluegrass since 1984.; 8vo.; 478 pages.
Used-U3-Good. 3rd printing, 1974. City Lights Press, SF. Rubbing to covers and minor edge wear. Previous owner's name scribbled out on front end page. A decent copy. We've seen other Bukowski titles in much worse shape!
In 1975, yes folks, the dark ages of the dawn of disco and polyester, and cheesiness, I woke up to the world of poetry. Sitting in my living room in San Diego, watching public television with my ex-boyfriend on a Sunday afternoon, a televised poetry reading was the feature of the day. The stage was empty, save a refrigerator, a small table, a chair, I believe a lamp, and a book. The audience, full capacity filled with ex-hippies, budding yuppies, and college students who got their doses of "culture" from the LA Free Press. A gentleman who looked like he was just pulled off the street, was introduced, walked out on the stage, went to the frig and took out a long neck bottle of beer (it was well stocked), sat down, took long pull, lit a cigarette, put on half-glasses, and began reading this incredible poetry. It was indescribably wonderful to the two of us. He exposed the underside of the rock, a life that was very close to what we had come to know as daily living. The frustrations, the joy, the madness of trying to be a part of what's acceptable, and not really fitting into the mold. We immediately went on a search for a copy of this book and anything else we were able to find, poetry, novels, films, recordings. R,I.P. Charles (Henry), I will always be fan and promoter of your timeless genius..
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