The unrepentant alcoholic and unknown writer Henry Chinaski was born to survive. After years on the margins, in dead-end jobs and miserable apartments, he is finally recognized as a poet.

At fifty, he revels in his sudden fame like a rock star, drinking three hundred days a year and achieving sexual performances that even Casanova would envy. Women is an unrestrained account of life in the red.

Charles Bukowski captures in Women the lonely romantic man who is constantly bewildered in an era of chaotic affluence, disarray, and deregulation, a deafening yet meaningless presence, and escape from anything spiritual, lyrical, or poetic.

From the afterword by George-Ikarios Babassakis