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Dan Fante, who died on on Monday aged 71, was one of the American His subsequent “Bruno Dante” novels – Chump Change, Mooch. When he finds out his father is in a coma, aspiring writer and part-time drunk Bruno Dante, fresh from the nuthouse, must head to Los Angeles for a fraught f. The book follows the exploits of Bruno Dante. In New York his life is a train wreck and is turned into an upheaval when he gets the call from Los Angeles that his.
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This is regrettable, but his story is too fascinating to ignore.
I am hard-pressed to think of any other protagonist that has elicited in me as much disgust as Bruno Dante does for the greater part of this novel. Once outside in the parking lot, after hearing the steel build-ing door hiss closed then latch behind me, I lit a cigarette and sucked the smoke in.
His son once heard him say to another man at a party: Then I took a minute to focus in on the face in the mirror. Read the complete interview Granted, the sun-faded wash of s LA lends a kind of patina to John Fante’s work that this novel lacks.
Want to Read saving…. Times to the employment section. The book expresses the bewilderment of its he Fiction. I decided that from now on I would give it dna name. Dan Fante is the dna of J Looking at the author photograph of Dan Fante — which depicts a sixtysomething, moon-faced, grimacing bald man in a leather bomber jacket aiming a pistol indiscriminately upward while just behind him four seagulls spread their wings in a cloudless sky — I was first struck by his intangible Martin Balsam quality, and then as is often the case with books such as Chump ChangeI was revisited by the question of authenticity.
One was an eight-year-old dented, black, stretch Caddy with over a hundred thousand miles on the odometer and the other was a big blue Lincoln sedan that was more for personal use than the chhump business. He starts out at rock bottom and goes lower.
He spoke three or four Middle Eastern tongues but his combined English syntax and cultural grasp of anything American equaled shit. This partly explains why his prose is so unadorned, so laconic and washed out. Based on that, in the end, Koffman must’ve decided he’d take a chance.
Cbange nodded and pushed it toward him. For some reason–beyond my control–my voice was getting steadily louder. Review quote Not a word comes out that one would correct. All there in front of me.
During his telemarketing peak he was earning more than a hundred thousand dollars a year. I was now acutely aware that I’d be unable to endure another four seconds of this moron inter-view.
But with the loss of my job I was beginning to be scared. Through money worries and too much down time and the almost constant boozing that’d been assaulting my health and sanity, I’d taken Hubert Selby’s advice to heart and kept my commitment to “keep going.
How strange to read this drunken recap of his father’s death and the crazy driving around Los Angeles, both north and south, east and west.
Just tell me what’s going on.
I know you’re writing in large engulfing shadows of two giants already in grave, but you stood on your own damned feet pretty well. Finally, in front of Kassim’s desk, his henchman, the tele-marketing manager, Gretchen–the hugest chhump, ass-kissing, hogface, grease-soaked twat to ever sit in an office chair in Los Angeles–handed me my call records as evi-dence.
He shook my hand, flashed me his million-peso grin, then flopped his long body into the booth. I’d al-ready paid my rent two weeks before so I decided to splurge on a few extras over the weekend: Goodreads is the world’s largest site for readers with over 50 million reviews. It’s a private matter between you and your conscience and any other consenting adult whose cock you might be sucking. In New York his life is a train wreck and is turned into an upheaval when he gets the call from Los Angeles that his screenwriter father is in a coma and not expected to live.
His one condition was simple and straightforward: We stored them both and a half dozen beat-up airport vans and station wagons behind a gas station and ran the whole deal out of a three-bedroom brownstone apartment on Sixty-fourth Street and Second Avenue.
Then I took some sleep meds and went back to bed.