Ben Bonkoske

Poet Without a Pen

Ben Bonkoske

  • The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway – Book Review

    I have had a bad case of writer’s block for the past month. I suppose a month isn’t the longest period of time to go without saying much, reading much, or putting ink to paper, but I blame Hemingway. I feel like I just don’t get it. I miss all the important parts, I think everyone in his stories talk funny, and it is just dull dull dull dull. A group of four white guys and a minx go to Pamplona. So what? Who cares. One of them is Jewish. Apparently this was a big deal when it was written, but today that just equates to three white guys. It took me well over a month to stomach this story.

    The best part of this book was that it inspired The Rum Diary. You can tell that HST took a lot from Hemingway’s iconic terse language. There is nothing to be ashamed of because of that. It just isn’t my cup of tea. I will take the verbosity and detail of Fitzgerald over elusive, esoteric, and hidden secrets of Hemingway. Hemingway refers to this as the 7/8th iceberg method. Only 1/8 of what is really going on should be explicitly stated, everything else resides under the surface. Thats great if you want to leave all that up to the imagination of the reader, but to me, that is just laziness. Oh, I’m so great that the reader has to do all the work. Give me a break. Your job as a writer is for the reader to be ABLE to imagine what is going on. I felt like the whole story existed in a vacuum.

    Part one is alright. The only memorable character is Brett. All the guys just blend together. Nothing distinguishes them besides the fact that one is rich, one is impotent, and one is Jewish. They all suck. They are mean and not worth sympathizing for. There is a lot of warming up that you must do to get on board with how the people talk in The Sun Also Rises. People just don’t talk that way. It is overtly romantic and stupid. Occasionally I enjoyed what was being said, but then I didn’t know who the hell was talking.

    It is a perfect example of someone not prepared to write a novel writing one. I don’t think Hemingway is stupid, I just think that he wasn’t ready. It is a good FIRST novel, but not one you should read by any means. It is PRACTICE. Hopefully A Farewell to Arms will redeem him, but frankly, everything I’ve read by him is garbage. I constantly found myself wandering, unengaged and not caring about the story. There really isn’t much plot. There are things that happen around a seductress. Possible argument for a character arch but a very weak one. Half the book is them finding a place to drink and the other half is them drinking. Warning: major N Bombs halfway through.

    It is really a bummer when a book bums you out about reading. I usually do book reviews on Youtube, but this one isn’t worth the trouble. It really took away a lot of joy. It makes you feel stupid for not getting it, and I’m positive that it was written drunk. It reads that way anyway. For as simple as his language is, the story is very hectic.

    50/100

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  • win or lose

    I finished my morning routine at roughly 10:30 pm today. Either I have too many things I am trying to accomplish before noon, or I have fallen off the deep end. Life is moving relatively fast. I suppose that shouldn’t come as a surprise after a year of being a river clogged by a few boulders. Now I am ravine! That is not to imply that I do any more than I did…ever. I don’t know how I do a damn thing. It all just adds up after a while I suppose. But, day to day to day to day, I might as well sleep in a coffin and have it nailed shut. I’m a piece of shiat. For example, I ate five burritos and a medium sized pizza today. I claim to be making progress because my 24 year old resolution was no dessert – no exceptions. So far I have eaten 3 cookies (baked by my bff’s mom and given to me as a gift) and one coconut granola bar. This is indeed an improvement from a weekly box of oreos and half gallon of ice cream. Oddly, I’m starting to get in better shape. Mentally, I am exhausted and jaded. I’d welcome a day job. Hell, I’d welcome just about anything different. There is a new chapter beginning in my life. I am so sick and tired of this limbo I’ve been stuck in for 6 years. I feel like I am putting my foot on the moon. Baby steps. Sometimes, I don’t suppose I’d be worse off either. Something I am trying to do is to stop comparing myself to where everybody else is, and what everybody looks like. It is unfair to thrust that sort of comparison onto myself or others. I ain’t anything special. My only superpower is that I can laugh at myself when things take a turn for the sweet bitter end of self-inflicted doom. So many people are trying to help me and it is this terrible feeling of being unable to help myself in any pragmatic way. It is not the end of the world. Just the end of mine.

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  • whatever works

    whatever. The best part of my day was listening to my sister having her heart broken. I’m being sarcastic. I hate having to explain my humor. Sometimes things aren’t all that funny. I forgot about how awful break ups are. 100 fucks are worth one good kiss. Obviously there are things more important than sex. I think I know what I want and then I do the complete opposite. I just don’t feel like I’m doing the right thing because I don’t know what it is, or looks like. I haven’t always had the best people to learn from. I think there is a quote that says, “I wish everyone was rich and famous so they would know that that is not the answer.” I think it was Jim Carrey. I used to be like that crazed bastard. I’ve changed. And yet, I haven’t grown. I never knew my toxicity and all that bull, because I just never looked in a damn mirror. Or if I did, all I saw was myself – not the way I treated the world. I want to cook and clean for someone I love. I want to listen. It isn’t a fun feeling to be left alone with yourself and not being satisfied with your character. Sleeping around is a really bad trait in a person. I’ve really learned that I have trouble balancing things in my life. I don’t understand that you can just be a normal person without destroying everything in your path. I am like the God of destruction, Shiva. Today should have been a win. I got my first apartment. horay. I muddy it up with all sorts of degradation and loose morals. I am hard to work with. I’m starting to think I will be alone for a long time. Surrounded by all sorts of wonderful people I won’t ever be looking at.

  • Waiting

    I was having one of my famous existential quasi-communist Philosophical conversations with my (and I hate to break it to all my other friends) BEST friend Patrick. He is in a league of his own, because while he pushes me to be a more generous and caring person, he casts no judgement when I fall short. I tend to sort of try and build up my other friends to achieve their best as a sort of way to make me feel better about myself (and yes, I can be a judgmental prig (and yes, parenthesis are tonight’s forte)). Anyway, we were talking about free will, the order of society (if it is organized by laws, income, location) and dialectical materialism when we fell on an old friend, my favorite ex-girlfriend, Love. I am a bitter party pooper now. For everything. I hate everyone younger than me. I don’t want to be reductionist and lump everyone into one category, but man, for me, an old soul, the party is over…or at least I am having trouble hopping onto the right brand. I am my own kettle of fish. I do buy into, ya know, internet glory or whatever. But I’d prefer to be recognized after I’m dead. I just want to be a millennial. An old fart basically. And I suppose I am. A part of me is sad to have missed the boat with a swarm of attractive young egotists, but I’d happily buy into the virtues of my parents instead. Love is just a great way to feel inadequate if you ask me. I don’t suppose I loved “correctly” but I’m sad to say I’ve been jaded by the experience. I hope everyone finds love and I do believe it is out there, but I just don’t seem to be ready for what I’m looking for. New word of the day, Demisexual. Also, I am going for a Straight Edge vibe.

  • veteran

    I’m writing from my second desk…the floor. Today I restrung my guitar to prepare for the recording process of my fourth album. Somehow a nice microphone landed on my lap. Technically, I’d put it in the category of a demo EP, but hey, I’m trying. I need a freaking guitar teacher. Or better, just an introduction video on different strumming patterns. I have been using the SAME one since the first night I picked up a guitar almost, what, 10 years ago? Also, Check out Chai Bisque podcast on my youtube channel – Ben Bon. If you subscribe I will mention it in the next episode. I think I underestimated how many people read and write. I read more last year than I probably did in all of college. That’s not to say I didn’t try to read, I just prioritized passive behavior. I truly have found a wonderful community here on WordPress. Thanks for the support! Y’all are awesome. It’s a good reminder that literature is still appreciated. This blog has been a great way to visualize my journey and process the struggles and successes that have come my way. Life doesn’t always go the way you planned, but I’m finally at a place where I can accept the reality of things. Humility isn’t always being humiliated (which is what I thought and was very familiar with), it is having a rational, accurate understanding of yourself. I used to be insecure for all the wrong reasons. But now, I’m building a character that can look beyond my shortcomings. My bedtime has been moved up an hour. My doctor told me the best sleep occurs before midnight. Exhausted by the end of the day is common, but once it is past midnight, I don’t know why, but I get wired. Since my little nicotine excursion (I’m so bummed, someone wrote me a comment congratulating me on six months without a puff – ALSO that guy is publishing a book so right on for him! (P.S Comments are highly encouraged)) I get these bursts of adrenaline or excitement for the things to come right as i’m trying to wind down. This overwhelming sensation is familiar and I used to attribute it to deficient medication, but now I am convinced it is just my brain rewiring after ten miserable cigarettes. I visited a bench where I used to knock out a few stogies. Since I am now operating under the mentality that I will never smoke another cigarette again, I decided to just try and sit there and breathe in the air. It smelled sweet. It was a nice moment of serenity. Not that often that those little moments come flitter by. Sometimes you have to schedule it out. I took three 30 minute walks today because deep down, I’m just a little jittery. It was pretty much back to square 1 after 194 days of progress (i.e no smoky smoky). To 200 and beyond! Life doesn’t just get easier after you’ve been working so hard for so long. It grows and strengthens right along with you, and you have to keep working a little bit harder. Best advice – never become complacent.

Ben Bonkoske is the author of two novels, Spoon in the Road, and Carolina, Colorado, California. He is also the author of two collections of short stories, Ten Zen by Ben, and Eleven Stories for 11:11. He lives in Chicago, where he likes to take walks.

B. A, M.A.T.