I’ve read a few Bukowski books, starting with “Notes of a Dirty Old Man,” which was probably my favorite. I’ve learned a bit about his storied life. I thought this book was going to be like the two books on writing I’ve read from Ernest Hemingway and Stephen King. It’s not. It is a series of repetitious letters to his magazine editors, dated from 1945 to 1993. Letters about submitting work to publishers, rehashing his lost decade to drinking, complaining about the publishing process, etc. Not a lot on the process of writing. If you are already a Bukowski fan, you might enjoy this collection. You will read profound insights. If not, I would start elsewhere. You may just read drunken ramblings. But for me, I was just hoping for something different than what I got.