The industry’s relentless hunt for profits has produced a kitschy reboot-loop that fits the historical moment. As the future seems to elude us, nostalgia reigns supreme.
Charles Bukowski wrote for people who were as addicted, disillusioned and outside of society as himself, creating tales of total burn-out in the ‘Golden Age of Capitalism’. Yet, in the past decade his writings have become associated with misogyny and the politics of the Far-Right. How should we consume his work? And should we even bother?
