The unrepentantly alcoholic and obscure writer Henry Chinaski was born to survive. After years on the fringes, in dead-end jobs and squalid apartments, he is finally recognized as a poet. At fifty, he revels in his sudden fame like a rock star, getting drunk three hundred days a year and achieving sexual feats that even Casanova would envy. "Women" is an unbridled chronicle of life in the fast lane. Charles Bukowski immortalizes in "Women" the lonely romantic man who is constantly bewildered in an era of nonsensical prosperity, disorientation, and deregulation, with a deafening yet meaningless presence and an escape from anything spiritual, lyrical, poetic. From the afterword by Giorgos-Ikaros Babassakis