'Post Office'

Though Post Office, Charles Bukowski's first voyage into the universe of prose, is a well known classic at this point, I had only familiarized myself with the poetic works of Buk up until last week. With a stack of books I’ve been “meaning to read” piling higher by the day, the escapades of Hank Chinaski (Bukowski’s alter ego in the novel) were not at the top of the list; but at least I’ve finally gotten around to it.

My impression of the book was slightly skewed in that before reading it I was told Hank Moody of Showtime’s Californication was based loosely on Chinaski, so when reading, I imagined David Duchovny, but that did not hinder my thorough enjoyment of the story.

To briefly fill you in, the story follows Henry Chinaski through his 11 years as a United States Postal Worker. He drinks, he gambles, he fornicates, and he somehow finds time to deliver the mail.

The writing is, of course, beautiful throughout, as expected of Buk, one of the most influential prose authors out there. The stories of the Post Office are great fun, finding hilarity in the daily grind, the bosses, the co-workers, and the people receiving their mail; all while Chinaski is hungover and scraping by in a cloud of hopeless universal loathing for everyone, even himself.

Over the course of the 11 years, Hank quits and gets re-hired, he gets married, has a child, and does a lot of drinking. Chinaski has few redeeming qualities in his personality that are revealed now and again throughout the story. His kindness surfaces for a moment when one of his many significant others kicks their dog, and Hank aids the helpless pet. There is a moment of irresistible vulnerability. For the most part though, Hank is not such a lovable guy.

He wanders through life as a drunken jerk, constantly sleeping around, and putting forth minimal effort in anything he does. Through this, he allows himself to appear victimized by unfortunate circumstances brought upon himself. The story, however, was hysterically funny, and quite an interesting take of an industry few people know anything about.

Even for those having never worked at the Post Office, it is easy to relate the diabolical ploys to escape working, and the madness of repetitive work, as well as the socially maladjusted cretins being serviced, to whatever industry the reader may work in. People are all the same, and anyone who has worked a job that serves others, which is most people at some point in their lives, they can understand the torturous nature of dealing with difficulties of employment like this.

I would highly recommend reading this classic work. I loved it, and could relate to it; but most importantly, I laughed constantly.