Wednesday, 8 May 2013

Memories of Bunker Hill

TODAY IS the thirtieth anniversary of the death of John Fante, the single most important American writer of the twentieth century.  I'm thirty-two this year so all contact with the man's literature is posthumous and removed but it still has had the greatest effect on me as a person.  When you read Fante you learn to dream, to love, to hate, to cry, to live, to fear, to hope, and to wish.  Emotionally I'm at John Fante Square today sharing a cigarette with Bandini and reminiscing until the dust settles.