Author Charles Bukowski was born in Germany in 1920. He lived most of his life in Los Angeles. In his lifetime he wrote six novels, thousands of poems, hundreds of short stories, and a screenplay. Prolific as he was, it wasn't until his fifties that his work became recognized; and then a decade later he was a household name. And a decade after that he was dead.

During his life, Bukowski was regarded as a "poet laureate of L.A. lowlife." Today he is attributed with redefining the literary landscape by handling topics that otherwise would be dishonestly-if ever-written about. Namely: sex, violence, poverty, and booze. Before Bukowski little writing was so stripped away and unvarnished. The Beat Generation and counterculture wrote in poetic prose. Hank, as he called himself, did not. He eschewed pretentiousness, which is why the classroom may be the only place he isn't read.

Translated in over a dozen languages, Bukowski's bibliography transcends the normative notion that an author spends his life rewriting the same book . Starting with Post Office in 1971, Bukowski blended autobiography with apocryphal with pulp. That is to say he took from his own life, exaggerated when necessary, and implemented fictional narratives to keep all stories apart. Interestingly, a chronology appears in his work that when lined up never overlaps.

Interestingly, a chronology appears in his work that when lined up never overlaps.

Ham on Rye, his third novel, details his childhood through late teen years. The screenplay for Barfly traces Bukowski's mid-twenties. Factotum, his second novel, describes his early thirties. Post Office relays the time after that to the brink of fifty. Women susses through Hank's newfound fame, now in his fifties and falling over drunk instead of in love. Hollywood, his last semi-autobiographical piece, recounts the time spent writing Barfly and seeing it finally land in theaters.

Pulp came after Hollywood, shortly before Bukowski's death. This novel reads as a dying man's contemplation of death and what it means, whether he should be terrified or glad that the lifelong tussle is at an end-from the broken shoelaces to the slept-on park benches, the exes and wives, the constant rejection and fame too late. Is he frightened? Yes.

It's this vulnerability that sets Bukowski apart from the pulp writers and technical maestros. The Mailers and Spillanes. Because, as is exemplified in his "Bluebird" poem, Bukowski projects a tenderness to offset the scars. The warmness of a perfect embrace, integrated with a hard life's grit. A litany of skepticism, a deep mistrust that borders on misanthropy, contradicted in truth by sincerity and innocence, if only after a few beers.

A litany of skepticism, a deep mistrust that borders on misanthropy, contradicted in truth by sincerity and innocence, if only after a few beers.

Charles Bukowski was a legend in his time and today his legend has mushroomed into a style. Abreast of Hemingway in form, short on adjectives, but willing to add in delinquent humor when two bodies enter bed. Bukowski transcended literature by going under, intaking the L.A. smog and breathing fire.

Be it the scent of a cigarette faintly detected in a poem, or a ghost burping beer on a reader's shoulders, Bukowski lives on in his words.