The John Fante Reader

Első borító
Harper Collins, 2010. szept. 14. - 336 oldal

It's not every day that a writer, almost unheard of in his lifetime, emerges twenty years after his death as a voice of his generation. But then again, there aren't many writers with such irrepressible genius as John Fante.

The John Fante Reader is the important next step in the reintroduction of this influential author to modern audiences. Combining excerpts from his novels and stories, as well as his never-before-published letters, this collection is the perfect primer on the work of a writer -- underappreciated in his time -- who is finally taking his place in the pantheon of twentieth-century American writers.


Mit mondanak mások - Írjon ismertetőt

LibraryThing Review

Felhasználói ismertető  - Bricker - LibraryThing

Semi autobiographical tales of a slightly sexist, slightly racist self-loather hiding behind a wall of bravado and struggling to find his identity as a writer and a man born to an immigrant laborer. Teljes értékelés elolvasása

LibraryThing Review

Felhasználói ismertető  - datrappert - LibraryThing

I had honestly never heard of Fante before stumbling across this book while looking at other stuff on Amazon. Given the low price and my love for the Charles Bukowski Reader, to which some reviewers ... Teljes értékelés elolvasása

Más kiadások - Összes megtekintése

Gyakori szavak és kifejezések

Népszerű szakaszok

127. oldal - O Mary, conceived without sin, pray for us who have recourse to thee...
199. oldal - Go, wing thy flight from star to star, From world to luminous world, as far As the universe spreads its flaming wall : Take all the pleasures of all the spheres, And multiply each through endless years, One minute of heaven is worth them all...
112. oldal - CONTRITION. 0 my God! I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee, and I detest all my sins, because I dread the loss of heaven and the pains of hell...
30. oldal - His name was Arturo, but he hated it and wanted to be called John. His last name was Bandini, and he wanted it to be Jones. His mother and father were Italians, but he wanted to be an American. His father was a bricklayer, but he wanted to be a pitcher for the Chicago Cubs
33. oldal - I at once notice to him Wop and Dago are without any distinct meaning, though if one not an Italian slaps them onto him, he's instantly insulted. Christopher Columbus was the greatest Wop who ever lived, says my father. So is Caruso. So is this fellow and that. But his very good friend Peter Ladonna is not only a drunken pig, but a Wop on top of it; and of course all his brothersin-law are good-for-nothing Wops. He pretends to hate the Irish. He really doesn't, but he likes to think so, and he warns...
55. oldal - He enjoyed killing blue-bottle flies. He got a big kick out of killing muskrats, and birds. He loved to fight. He hated those chickens. He had had a lot of dogs in his life, and he had been severe and often harsh with them. And what of the prairie dogs he had killed, the pigeons, the pheasants, the jackrabbits? Well, the only thing to do was to make the best of it. Worse, it was a sin to even think of killing or injuring a human being. That sealed his doom. No...
48. oldal - ... has ever flung the word at me, and I am so angry that I strike out foolishly. We fight after the game, this boy and I, and I make him take it back. Now school days become fighting days. Nearly every afternoon at 3:15 a crowd gathers to watch me make some guy take it back. This is fun; I am getting somewhere now, so come on, you guys, I dare you to call me a Wop! When at length there are no more boys who challenge me, insults come to me by hearsay, and I seek out the culprits. I strut down the...
49. oldal - I pretend ignorance of what she says, and smirk stiffly; my friends daren't know that I can speak any language but English. Sometimes this infuriates her. She bristles, the loose skin at her throat knits hard, and she blasphemes with a mighty blasphemy. When I finish in the parochial school my people decide to send me to a Jesuit academy in another city.
128. oldal - I want to talk to you." She crossed her legs. "I'ma writer," I said. "I'm gathering material for a book." "I knew you were a writer," she said. "Or a businessman, or something. You look spiritual, honey." "I'ma writer, see. I like you and all that. You're okay, I like you. But I want to talk to you first.
49. oldal - ... forever red and brilliant with wine. These things are heirlooms belonging to my father, and no matter who may come to our house, he likes to stand under them and brag. So I begin to shout to him. I tell him to cut out being a Wop and be an American once in a while. Immediately he gets his razor-strop and whales hell out of me, clouting me from room to room and finally out the back door. I go into the woodshed and pull down my pants and stretch my neck to examine the blue slices across my rump....

A szerzőről (2010)

John Fante began writing in 1929 and published his first short story in 1932. His first novel, Wait Until Spring, Bandini, was published in 1938 and was the first of his Arturo Bandini series of novels, which also include The Road to Los Angeles and Ask the Dust. A prolific screenwriter, he was stricken with diabetes in 1955. Complications from the disease brought about his blindness in 1978 and, within two years, the amputation of both legs. He continued to write by dictation to his wife, Joyce, and published Dreams from Bunker Hill, the final installment of the Arturo Bandini series, in 1982. He died on May 8, 1983, at the age of seventy-four.

Stephen Cooper is the recipient of a National Endowment for the Arts Fellowship and the author of Full of Life: A Biography of John Fante. While researching Fante's life he discovered and edited the manuscript for Fante's last book, The Big Hunger. He lives in Los Angeles with his wife and their two children.

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