Bukowski is the "simplest" writer I've come across in a while, or at least it seems so based on a reading of this one novel. The text in Post Office is spare, to the point, and often vulgar, and I am uncertain whether this is a reflection of the protagonist or of the writer (or whether they are one and the same). The novel is a page-turner (I read its 200 pages in two sittings of roughly 90 minutes each), but there seems to be little depth to it. I must admit it was a refreshing break from the delicate prose I've been reading recently.