I’m not a book collector, just a reader. In fact, my Bukowski collection, as such, has an underlying self-imposed rule that I’ll only buy a Bukowski book in the context of a yard sale, fundraising book sale or thrift shop. (I only broke this rule once a few years ago for Portions From a Wine-stained Notebook and was rather disappointed with the quality of the unearthed stories therein.) It’s an aesthetic choice, and that brings me to my point, which is aesthetics.

The posthumous John Martin-treated Bukowski texts are not ‘edited’, they are actually rewritten, and rewritten by someone who cannot really write creatively in the way Bukowski could. Hence the outrage of loyal Bukowski fans when the cat was out of the bag. They could ‘taste’ the difference – it’s a question of aesthetics. It may well be argued that post-1970 Bukowski was already a spent force, but certainly not according to the taste of his legion fans. Whereas they could sense immediately with the posthumous Martin texts that something was ‘off’.

I’ve read and hugely enjoyed many of the Oliver Harris-edited Burroughs texts. Certainly for all the great, erudite introductions and notes, but also for his focus on maintaining and if possible clarifying the words and sense of the author. It’s an exemplary editorial attitude, and one that yields many rewards to the reader. That said, I’d still love to read the original text of ‘The Naked Lunch’, as published by the Olympia Press, and I hope someday someone will publish a trade edition that isn’t phenomenally expensive. (Maybe something like The Winter of Artifice by Anais Nin, published in a facsimile edition by Sky Blue Press.) The same goes for the Olympia version of The Soft Machine. I derived great pleasure (there, aesthetics again) from comparing the British version (in an old Corgi paperback) and the Grove Press version of that particular work.

In the not-too-distant future I’ll be reading Bukowski’s Storm For The Living And The Dead – uncollected and unpublished poems edited by Abel Debritto. I recently picked up a nice copy for $3 at the semi-annual Winnipeg Children’s Hospital Book Market.

Many of the manuscripts from the 70s and 80s on the site come from Wormwood, and there are zero examples of edits that are not in Bukowski’s handwriting. Not to suggest that Malone didn’t ever edit, but it was rare.

These two are edits in Webb’s handwriting:

http://bukowski.net/manuscripts/displaymanuscript.php?show=poem1968-03-20-get_the_nose.jpg&workid=1318
http://bukowski.net/manuscripts/displaymanuscript.php?show=poem1968-03-20-rest_you_merry_gentlemen.jpg&workid=2573

>> Regarding the Black Sparrow collectibles, what is your take on Bukowski allowing himself to be marketed in this way and his seemingly wholehearted participation in it? Was he an accomplice in Martin cynicism? He produced all the paintings and signatures that Martin asked for. Or did he rebel against that?

He disagreed with Martin on many of the “manufactured rarities,” and eventually stopped making paintings for the Black Sparrow releases because he said the assembly line aspect of it took the joy out of painting. Having said that, he would complain to Martin about certain things, but he rarely said ‘no’ to him outright.

>> Many people say that Bukowski stopped working in 1970 but in my mind that is when he was really put to work. He became a professional writer working in large part as a house writer for Martin and that is when his work loses its integrity and power.

What his work lost post-1970 might be more of the desperation – and that may be what a lot of people liked about his 60s poems – than integrity. I don’t think a case could be made that he ever compromised his integrity, as far as writing what he wanted to write. He never wavered from that.

Financial comfort negates desperation for most people. But you can still see glimpses of it in Bukowski’s work from the 80s. By the 90s he was at the end and more of the work seemed reflective or heaven forbid, nostalgic. But the bite was always there. And the power was always there. You just had to wait for it.

And in the published posthumous work, the teeth were removed, so we can’t blame him for that.

As for the poets and writers, they put their heart and soul into their work. These work become their very bodies and then they “submit” them for judgment, editing (rape??), and possible rejection. These poets and writers submit to this cycle again and again in the hope of acceptance, in the hope their work will be bound among others in a little magazine, that again hopefully will be passionately devoured by readers, but again often is just ignored or even outright despised.

I think the idea of the little magazine as masochistic is a common theme throughout its history. As is any writing submitted for public review and consumption for that matter.

Your article and all the related posts are absolutely fascinating and makes me want to compare Burroughs little magazine manuscripts vs mag appearances to see how they deal with the visual aspects of the cut-ups in the 1960s.

Regarding the Black Sparrow collectibles, what is your take on Bukowski allowing himself to be marketed in this way and his seemingly wholehearted participation in it? Was he an accomplice in Martin cynicism? He produced all the paintings and signatures that Martin asked for. Or did he rebel against that?

Many people say that Bukowski stopped working in 1970 but in my mind that is when he was really put to work. He became a professional writer working in large part as a house writer for Martin and that is when his work loses its integrity and power.

The letters are a case in point. The great letters are from the 1960s when he carved out time outside of his job, when it was a sacrifice to write and he wrote in his precious and limited free time. Writing letters is a tremendous waste of productive time for a writer and for Buk to spend so much time and effort on them makes me love those letters all the more. He desperately needs an audience, like the early Burroughs letters. The later letters are like business correspondence from an executive in a company, this holds true for Burroughs as well. I think the same holds true for the poems, but that is a romantic delusion that once a writer goes pro he/she has sold out. I know it is not fair, but I cant help feeling that way.

Where Bukowski is concerned, and where we have manuscripts to compare, it is generally true. In relation to the posthumous poetry collections, it is overwhelmingly true. When you compare the earlier publications to the posthumous publications, the earlier work seems nearly pristine. In comparison. Clearly Bukowski was edited throughout his career, and rightfully so (when done by a real editor).

And that is the crux of the biscuit, as the kids say.

No one is saying Martin shouldn’t have edited Bukowski. Well, okay, I am, but as Bukowski’s “editor” it was certainly his right to edit. Unfortunately, Martin’s editing seems to be at its best when it is more transcribing than editing.

As for Webb, we have many examples of his editing of Bukowski’s work, in red pencil, on the manuscript page, rather than in the stick. Marvin Malone at Wormwood Review, on the other hand, appeared to rarely edit Bukowski poetry. What is in Wormwood virtually always matches what is on the manuscripts.

What we don’t have from Webb or any other early publishers are any examples of editing that has denigrated the work. We do have that where Martin is concerned.

Now when I say that I realize that it becomes a stylistic issue and an issue of taste and artistry, and we’re well outside the possibility of “proving” anything there. The proof to me, as a reader and a writer is there on the pages of those posthumous collections.

If the great brains of academia eventually find some proof or explanation that works for them, that’ll be cold comfort as far as I’m concerned. But I understand the need for that.

> “Phillips calls for the boycott of any of the later Bukowski collections, but this challenge to Martin’s dominance, if followed to its logical conclusion, calls for nothing more than a strike against purchasing Black Sparrow Bukowski limited editions.”

I have always considered the creation of the endless multitude of Black Sparrow variations (and the titles published under the “Burn Again Press” faux-imprint) to be a cynical move, and have referred to them myself on many occasions as “manufactured rarities,” so I don’t disagree with you there.

How can the production of numbered and lettered editions of the same book where the only difference is the color of the spine cloth be considered anything other than cynical?