Charles Bukowski: not a fan! After reading the abominable Women—in which our protagonist kills time in his apartment while waiting for dozens of the silly crazy girls who write him letters to get off the plane and fuck him—I gave it to my (ex) boyfriend: "You'll love this." (He did.) Nothing wrong with earnestly-expressed chauvinism in literature. However, his limply pathetic meanderings allow the more discerning readers to assume that even though Bukowski was prolific with his women and his writing, he was—ultimately—a pretty bad lay.If you hate yourself and are in the mood for his sloppy seconds, however, Bukowski's got a new thing of b-sides coming out, called Portions from a Wine-Stained Notebook. At least the L.A. Times half-way agrees with our assessment: "When I was young, and new to L.A., and hanging around dissolute poets, I read a lot of Bukowski, and it seemed to me, even then, that there was a lot of dreck to page through before something struck and resonated." It's been real, Charles. Now get out of my apartment.