JF

John Fante

73quotes

John Fante: A Life of Writing and Woe

#### Full Name and Common Aliases
John Philip Fante was born on April 19, 1909, in Denver, Colorado. He is commonly known as John Fante.

#### Birth and Death Dates
April 19, 1909 – May 8, 1983

#### Nationality and Profession(s)
American writer, novelist, short story writer, poet, and screenwriter.

#### Early Life and Background
John Fante grew up in a poor Italian-American family in Denver's west side. His father, Joseph Fante, was an itinerant laborer who struggled to provide for his family. Fante's early life was marked by poverty, hunger, and the struggles of living on the margins. Despite these hardships, he developed a love for writing at an early age, often spending hours scribbling in his notebooks.

Fante's family moved to Los Angeles when he was 13 years old. He attended Fairfax High School, where he began to develop his writing skills. In his teenage years, Fante wrote extensively, producing short stories, poems, and even a novel. His early work was heavily influenced by the struggles of his own life and the urban landscape of Los Angeles.

#### Major Accomplishments
Fante's most significant accomplishment is undoubtedly his series of novels known as the "Ask the Dust" series. These novels, starting with Ask the Dust (1939), are semi-autobiographical explorations of Fante's own experiences growing up in Los Angeles. The series follows the life of Arturo Bandini, a young writer struggling to make a name for himself.

Throughout his career, Fante wrote over 15 novels, numerous short stories, and several screenplays. He is perhaps best known for Ask the Dust, which has been translated into many languages and continues to be widely read today.

#### Notable Works or Actions
In addition to the "Ask the Dust" series, Fante's notable works include:

Wait Until Spring, Bandini (1938) - a semi-autobiographical novel about growing up in Los Angeles.
The Road to Los Angeles (1947) - a collection of short stories exploring the lives of working-class Americans.

Fante was also an accomplished screenwriter. He worked extensively with director John Huston, contributing to films such as The Big Steal (1949).

#### Impact and Legacy
John Fante's impact on American literature is undeniable. His novels and short stories offer a raw, unvarnished look at the struggles of working-class Americans in the early 20th century.

Fante's work has influenced countless writers, including Charles Bukowski, who often credited Fante as his mentor and inspiration. Bukowski even dedicated one of his own books to Fante, acknowledging the debt he owed to his literary predecessor.

#### Why They Are Widely Quoted or Remembered
John Fante is widely quoted and remembered for several reasons:

Authenticity: His work offers a genuine portrayal of life on the margins, unvarnished by sentimentalism or pretension.
Poetic Prose: Fante's writing style is characterized by vivid descriptions, lyrical language, and a deep sense of empathy for his characters.
* Autobiographical Significance: His novels often blur the lines between fiction and memoir, offering readers a glimpse into the life of a struggling writer.

John Fante's legacy extends beyond his writing. He remains an important figure in American literary history, celebrated by writers and scholars alike for his unwavering commitment to telling the truth about the lives of ordinary people.

Quotes by John Fante

Murderer or bartender or writer, it didn’t matter: his fate was the common fate of all, his finish my finish; and here tonight in this city of darkened windows were other millions like him and like me: as indistinguishable as dying blades of grass. Living was hard enough. Dying was a supreme task.
"
Murderer or bartender or writer, it didn’t matter: his fate was the common fate of all, his finish my finish; and here tonight in this city of darkened windows were other millions like him and like me: as indistinguishable as dying blades of grass. Living was hard enough. Dying was a supreme task.
They were myths I once believed, and now they were beliefs I felt were myths.
"
They were myths I once believed, and now they were beliefs I felt were myths.
Then I walked down the street toward Angel’s Flight, wondering what I would do that day. But there was nothing to do, and so I decided to walk around the town.
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Then I walked down the street toward Angel’s Flight, wondering what I would do that day. But there was nothing to do, and so I decided to walk around the town.
Are the dead restored? The books say no, the night shouts yes.
"
Are the dead restored? The books say no, the night shouts yes.
Ah, Evelyn and Vivian, I love you both, I love you for your sad lives, the empty misery of your coming home at dawn. You too are alone, but you are not like Arturo Bandini, who is neither fish, fowl nor good red herring. So have your champagne, because I love you both, and you too, Vivian, even if your mouth looks like it had been dug out with raw fingernails and your old child’s eyes swim in blood written like mad sonnets.
"
Ah, Evelyn and Vivian, I love you both, I love you for your sad lives, the empty misery of your coming home at dawn. You too are alone, but you are not like Arturo Bandini, who is neither fish, fowl nor good red herring. So have your champagne, because I love you both, and you too, Vivian, even if your mouth looks like it had been dug out with raw fingernails and your old child’s eyes swim in blood written like mad sonnets.
When your weaknesses are your strenghts, you cry. For crying disconcerts people, they don’t know how to handle it; they are expecting violence and suddenly it vanishes in a pool of tears.
"
When your weaknesses are your strenghts, you cry. For crying disconcerts people, they don’t know how to handle it; they are expecting violence and suddenly it vanishes in a pool of tears.
I was a coward. I said it aloud to myself: you are a coward. I didn’t care. It was better to be a live coward than a dead madman.
"
I was a coward. I said it aloud to myself: you are a coward. I didn’t care. It was better to be a live coward than a dead madman.
I was twenty then. What the hell, I used to say, take your time, Bandini. You got ten years to write a book, so take it easy, get out and learn about life, walk the streets. That’s your trouble: your ignorance of life.
"
I was twenty then. What the hell, I used to say, take your time, Bandini. You got ten years to write a book, so take it easy, get out and learn about life, walk the streets. That’s your trouble: your ignorance of life.
We were two miles from Bunker Hill, in the east part of town, in the section of factories and breweries. She.
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We were two miles from Bunker Hill, in the east part of town, in the section of factories and breweries. She.
It harassed him always, that beautiful snow. He could never understand why he didn’t go to California. Yet he stayed in Colorado, in the deep snow, because it was too late now.
"
It harassed him always, that beautiful snow. He could never understand why he didn’t go to California. Yet he stayed in Colorado, in the deep snow, because it was too late now.
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