HARD TIMES, WILD WOMEN

With the exception of the likes of Kitty Kelley, a biographer usually selects a subject whom he or she respects and admires.

That Neeli Cherkovski writes about Charles Bukowski’s life and work intelligently and insightfully, without the microscopic grim and grit, does not constitute the cop-out suggested by The Times’ reviewer (John Rechy) of “Hank” (March 10) but rather an avoidance of redundancy, since the man, the real, alive-and-still-kicking Bukowski speaks for himself, has told his own tales of hard times and wild women in dozens of books of poetry and prose.

And if Cherkovski seems to be in awe of his subject, who also happens to be a friend and colleague, he has a good right to be, since Charles Bukowski is considered worldwide by countless writers and readers of contemporary American poetry to be a genius innovator of modern craft and content.

Why L.A. critics continue to put down one of the best of their own home boys amazes not just me but a lot of the rest of the world.

JOAN JOBE SMITH, LONG BEACH