Find a mold
Every body has to
C on f orm
These titles were selected for work in If I am the sea, where am I? based on an excerpt from Charles Bukowski’s Ham on Rye (1982).
With no prior introduction, my first encounter with Charles Bukowski was through his poetry book Love is a Dog From Hell (1977) where, unexpectedly, I found myself with some dormant feminist rage being acutely activated. Bukowski, I discovered, writes of a thorough subjection of women and meets it with utter dependence and longing for their love and affection. A sense of entitlement seeps through the pages because, fundamentally, Bukowski’s world is one where actions do not have consequences - particulaely, if they do not directly impact the perpetrator. And yet, upon further introspection, I realised what bothered me truly was that at its core, this work romanticised a rationality and a lifestyle of selfishness and disregard. Bukowski was an inherent misanthrope and his egomania did not discriminate; it just so happened that this bout of volatility was directed at and at the expense of women. I set my feelings and the book aside and was left with a blanket of sorrow and the unsettling reminder that pain often seeks comfort in angst.
My journey with Bukowski however, was not yet complete. Years later, I came across Ham on Rye and, given my initial experience with his writing, I cannot say what prompted my buying a copy, but nevertheless, I did. Within the first ten pages, I was immersed in the world of a young Henry Chinaski. I confirmed my suspicions about the character with a quick Google search; Chinaski serves as Bukowski’s literary alter-ego and Ham on Rye depicts the character’s evolution from early childhood to late adolescence. With this knowledge and perspective, I journeyed with him.
Let me say plainly, this novel echoed a secret confession, unintended to be read. Perhaps I’m simply an idealist, reading between lines that have no opacity. There are moments where Bukowski’s inner-child voice speaks through Chinaski and in those moments, I found myself achingly compassionate for the child that was horrifically neglected and believed himself to be unlovable. Chinaski does not seek pity or sympathy in these moments and the birth of the Charles Bukowski from Love is a Dog From Hell becomes imminent.
It is a difficult paradox to find oneself in: to see the roots that embedded themselves in an unlikeable, disrespectful person. Children see the world as entirely black and white and when the world shuns them continuously, one can take the path of self-deprecation or the path of Bukowski. I cannot blame him for the latter.
A teenage Chinaski speaks of the conformity of society in his world as he broods over his undeterminable future.
“Everybody had to conform, find a mold to fit into. Doctor, lawyer, soldier—it didn't matter what it was. Once in the mold you had to push forward.”
When I underlined these words in pencil, I did not fully realise their significance. These words encapsulate more than the bitter thoughts of an angry outsider; they display the effects of a loveless, lonely existence. This applies for everyone. If conformity is the goal, then repression of the soul is inevitable. This manifests in resentment for the ordinary and extraordinary; the familiar and unfamiliar. The cure is too daunting; an admission of unease or unhappiness. Vulnerability. The way out becomes unattainable and the pain seeks comfort in angst. I can understand, in that sense, the evolution of Charles Bukowski and I see myself in another life offering a tender hand that says, “I understand, and I’m sorry.” It’s likely he would throw a fit and maybe even a drink in my face but at some level, I think young Henry Chinaski would hear me and say thank you.
