In Post Office we find a lovable loser, an always autobiographical Bukowski dressed up thinly as a fictional man. He rarely does anything amazing, or faces external challenges which would inspire a reader to think "aha, interesting premise!" But what makes Bukowski so entertaining to generations of readers is his continual ability to look at the world with an eternal outsider's eye, and the ability to slip in an amazingly astute observation when you least expect. There's so much you could dislike, or henpeck about his writing, but it's overwhelmed easily by the unexpected brilliance, and won over just as the people he runs into are: by his wonderful charm. I'm being honest, this is a three-star book. But it's the best three star book you'll ever read.