Factotum

By: Charles Bukowski

Narrated by: Christian Baskous

Length: 5 hrs and 8 mins

Publisher's summary

One of Charles Bukowski's best, this beer-soaked, deliciously degenerate novel follows the wanderings of aspiring writer Henry Chinaski across World War II-era America. Deferred from military service, Chinaski travels from city to city, moving listlessly from one odd job to another, always needing money but never badly enough to keep a job. His day-to-day existence spirals into an endless litany of pathetic whores, sordid rooms, dreary embraces, and drunken brawls, as he makes his bitter, brilliant way from one drink to the next.

Charles Bukowski's posthumous legend continues to grow. Factotum is a masterfully vivid evocation of slow-paced, low-life urbanity and alcoholism, and an excellent introduction to the fictional world of Charles Bukowski.

©1975 Charles Bukowski (P)2013 HarperCollinsPublishers

Enjoyable

I read this in print probably 15 years ago. Now that the Bukowski books are on audible, I am revisiting all they have to offer. If you are starting off on Bukowski, I'd suggest Ham on Rye or Post office over this. This novel details many years of Bukowski's life, I'd figure after leaving home, in which he worked about a thousand different jobs in a hundred different cities. As per his style, the chapters are short. There's no filler. It's all, "I moved here, I got drunk at this bar, I hooked up with this woman." Factotum is one of his better novels, but not his best. Still, it flows and is an easy listen.

Third Bukowski book

I've read Bukowski's first three books and this is by far my favorite. The raspy voice doing the performance was fitting as well. Enjoyed this audio version immensely.

I could listen to this over and over again

Any additional comments?

I'm now obsessed w/Charles Bukowski! The story is raw, dirty, and beaten down....I could not get enough.

Loved It

Absolutely loved the book. The narrator could not have done a greater job. I was laughing thru the entire book.

Not My Cup of Tea

Couldn't handle the narration, it was just irritating to listen to the narrators voice. I like Bukowski, but this books narration made it impossible to listen to. Couldn't get through this one.

Fantastic

Definitely one of my favorite books by Bukowski, 2nd only to Post Office. If you like his work, you can't skip this one.

Buk makes me happy

and listening to Christian Baskous perform the reading is just like having Buk in your ear.

no one makes me laugh like Bukowski!

Awesome narration to a mediocre novel

The actual story was a complete mess and borderline non-existent. It was interesting in parts, but the overall story was simply variants on the theme of a vulgar drunk who likes sex. I preferred Post Office to this, it at least had a basic storyline.

However, the narrator is perfect.

Love the book but hated the performance.

The book is one of Bukowski's great works. The performance by the narrator ruins a lot of the humor and general mood. He uses cartoony voices for characters and bad accents. Most of the ladies are given a voice that sounds like a guy doing a homosexual male's voice. The pages still drip with seediness, darkness, and truth. But it's hard to get past the narration. I'd recommend just reading this one.

Working, Drinking, & Loving in Seedy WWII-era USA

Factotum (1975) is a short novel told in a series of short chapters that provide a sardonic, amusing, and morbidly fascinating look at down and out life in World War Two era American cities like New Orleans, New York City, Philadelphia, Saint Louis, and especially Los Angeles, as Charles Bukowski's young alter-ego Henry (Hank) Chinaski travels around by train or bus (without being able to sleep or defecate) and half-heartedly interviews for, miraculously gets, and promptly quits or is fired from a series of demeaning, “dull stupid jobs” with grotesque overseers and coworkers.

A factotum is someone who does all kinds of work, and Henry is a newspaper gopher, subway poster remover and applier, auto parts store clerk, dog biscuit factory oven worker, women’s dresses shipping clerk, potential libretto writer, bakery coconut man, hotel loading dock worker, fluorescent light fixture shipping clerk, art supply store shipping clerk, LA Times janitor, potential Yellow Cab driver, and more. Typically, after several days he rubs his bosses or coworkers the wrong way for his perceived superior attitude, when it's really only that he doesn't like people (“I was a man who thrived on solitude”) or tires of whatever soul-destroying work he happens to be doing (“I was horrified by life and by what a man had to do simply in order to eat, sleep, and keep himself clothed”) or succumbs to wanderlust (“Packing was always a good time”). All the while he is living in a series of seedy apartments, while drinking constantly and turning out scores of hand-written short stories that he sends off to literary magazines, almost going through the motions but never quite giving up the idea that he is a hitherto undiscovered “writer”--which might be part of his self-directed irony: “Baby, I'm a genius but nobody knows it but me.”

Because of his views on work, Henry would rather stay in bed and drink. He also does plenty of drinking away from home, of course, as once with an old friend when he wakes up in jail arrested for having caused a traffic jam without remembering any of the details. He spends as little time as possible with his weak and soft mother and his unpleasant father, who says things like, “My son is a God damn no good drunk” and “How the hell are you going to make it?” and charges him rent and clothes washing fees to stay in their home. Interestingly, he only masturbates when he's in his family home. He is not immune from considering getting a gun and putting himself out of his misery. He’s often attracted to and occasionally lucky (?) with members of the opposite sex. He listens to classical music on the radio, and the likes of Mahler and Beethoven perform the soundtrack for some funky filthy sex and debauchery and conflict. I sense a homophobic vibe, as Bukowski shows Henry turning down a couple offers of sex from creepy men and dryly remark that his sudden spate of apartment cleaning must be due to his “turning fag.”

Bukowski writes memorable lines, about--

--charisma:
“I always started a job with the feeling that I would soon quit or be fired and this gave me a relaxed manner that was mistaken for intelligence or some secret power.”

--romance:
“Great lovers were always men of leisure. I fucked better as a bum than as a puncher of time clocks.”

--human nature:
“For each Joan of Arc there is a Hitler perched at the other end of the teeter totter.”

He is a master of the vivid grotesque description, like:

“The people swarmed up out of the subway, like insects, faceless, mad. They rushed upon me and into and around me with much intensity. They spun and pushed each other. They made horrible sounds.”

And
“I was given instruction by a toothless elf with a film over his left eye. The film was white and green with spidery blue lines.”

And
“The large bed was covered with stuffed animals. All of the animals looked surprised and stared at me.”

The audiobook reader, Christian Baskus, is the ideal Bukowski/Chinaski, perfect.

The novel ends with Henry out of work, out of love, and alone, impotently taking in a vigorous strip tease act: “I couldn't get it up.” Rather than closure, it feels like Bukowski just decided to stop his tenuously linked series of work and love anecdotes. There isn’t a clear climax and resolution to the novel so much as a petering out. Nonetheless, I can’t help it: I want to read more!