Book - 2002
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A takeoff on private eye novels. In Los Angeles, PI Nick Belane is hired by Lady Death to find out if the man she spotted in a bookstore is the dead French writer, Celine, or an impersonator. The assignment leads Belane to many bars, many fights and many beautiful women.
Publisher: New York : Ecco, 2002
Characteristics: 202 pages ; 23 cm
Edition: First Ecco edition
Copyright Date: ©1994
ISBN: 9780876859261 (pbk.)


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Dec 20, 2014

I'm not entirely sure what just happened; what I just read or even how I feel about. I went to a shaman one time and had a very similar experience. It was sort of an out of body, near death experience and I guess that's how I'd describe this novel. It was surreal and had aliens and Death with a capital D. I'm still not convinced I even just read this and maybe I'm still asleep and dreaming right now. I reckon it's time to explore more Bukowski.

Sep 22, 2014

A page turner, a super hardboil detective pulp fiction.

Apr 01, 2011

This is the latest I read in a long line of Bukowski, novels, short stories and poetry. I liked it better than alot of his other stuff. CB writes with a little more purpose and a little less patience. Pulp is direct and unrestrained. It markedly different from a lot of his other works. I think Pulp is testament to CB getting to where he wanted in life, as a writer and as a person.

Nov 19, 2010

Very Disappointing. I'm a huge Bukowski fan, but I would not
recommend this drivel to anyone.
1 start out of 5.

sit_walk Sep 02, 2009

I was looking for poetry and got a novel. The title, "Pulp: A Novel", perhaps should have been a clue...


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Sep 22, 2014

I got to thinking about solutions in life. People who solved things usually had lots of persistence and some good luck. If you persisted long enough, the good luck usually came. Most people couldn’t wait on the luck, though, so they quit. Not Belane. No candyass, he. Top flight. Game. A bit lazy, perhaps. But crafty. I pulled open the top right hand drawer, found the vodka and allowed myself a hit. A drink to victory. The winner writes the history books, is surrounded by the lovely virgins…
...This time Sanderson was dressed in a light purple suit. His taste in colors was freaky. I knew a babe like that once, she had a way of wearing those weird colors. Like we’d go out to a restaurant to eat and everybody would turn and look at her. Problem was, she wasn’t much to look at. Even with a hangover and a 3-day beard I looked better than she did...

Sep 22, 2014

Then she got up and walked out of there. I never saw an xyz like that in my life. Beyond concept. Beyond everything. Don’t bother me now. I want to think about it.
Tommy stepped toward me. I slipped the luger out of the drawer, pointed it towards Tommy’s gross immensity. “Hold it, Thomas, or you’ll be spouting more red than the jerseys of the Stanford football team!”
I’d lost my kick. Existence was not only absurd, it was plain hard work. Think of how many times you put on your underwear in a lifetime. It was appalling, it was disgusting, it was stupid.


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