Friends Within The Darkness by Charles Bukowski
Music Soothes the Savage Breast of a Down and Out Poet
One of the things that made Charles Bukowski so fascinating, was his ability to keep one foot in the gutter and the other foot in the esoteric world of arts and letters.
Not literally of course, Bukowski wouldn’t be caught dead in a room full of intellectuals and artisans celebrating their talent, as purveyors of all things creative and good.
More likely Bukowski would be found lying, drunk and disoriented, at the seedy bar across town from the college where his poetry was being read, examined, poked, prodded, and dissected; and praised. This is not to say that Bukowski did not appreciate fine art, or respect his fellow practitioners.
Bukowski simply saw the world from street level, where the day to day life of the mind required a delicately balanced mix of observation and interpretation, for the art; and survival instincts, in order to go on living.
And if there can be anything noble found in Bukowski’s poetry, it would surely be his celebration of the working poor; who probably appreciate fine art and literature more than most, for it is harder to come by; and for those working poor who create, harder to produce.
In many ways, what Charles Bukowski does with Friends Within The Darkness is expound upon English playwright and poet William Congreve’s line from his play, The Mourning Bride: Music has charms to soothe a savage breast...
starving in a small room in a strange city
Bukowski introduces a young man (almost assuredly Bukowski himself) with no prospects, hiding from the harsh realities of the outside world.
I can remember starving in a
small room in a strange city
shades pulled down, listening to
classical music
The young man feels as though his only chance for survival is to lay low; as if the storm will eventually pass; perhaps, freeing the way for a talented young poet to show `em what he’s really got. Lonely and isolated, the young man remembers Mozart, Bach, and Beethoven, as the only guys who spoke to him, ...and they were dead.
strange men behind desks
Soon, starved and beaten, he must brave the world; place himself in compromising positions; where strange men behind desks ask questions; and inquire as to your qualifications to hold a low paying job.
In the climax, Bukowski returns the reader to the present day, where that young man is now a professional writer working for: the editors the readers the critics...
He is still alone; and still feeling the pressure of the walls closing in; and still being inspired by Mozart, Bach, Brahms, and Beethoven, to carry on.
Read another review of Bukowski's work: so you want to be a writer?
Charles Bukowski
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