Bukowski writes with an honesty and clarity that I find very appealing. The tales range from drunken ramblings on the injustice and loneliness of life to strange fantasies bordering on science fiction. What is so appealing about these seemingly pointless stories is that Bukowski writes without fear. He uncompromisingly intertwines observation with opinion, however disagreeable, and in the process captures some of the emptiness of being alive in this day and age. This is not an uplifting book; his approach to filling that emptiness starts with the bottle, but the tragedy in these stories carries as much feeling as any celebration of happiness or success.