The plot of this book is pretty much nonexistent, the characters never deviate from their stereotypes, and to top it off the dialogues gave me the impression that the whole thing played out like one of these crummy family 90s movies (where the realism?). Fante's dictionary is stunning, and as a non-native speaker, his work undoubtedly enriched mine, yet at some point I got genuinely fed up with his unusual and clunky style. The author could have benefited from a straightforward prose, but instead he stuck with his dull stream of consciousnesses revolving around a super hormonal dirt poor and dense kid's wishes to bang his classmate and his weird obsession for baseball players, not to mention his uncommon choice of fancy words. Bukowski had a thing for Fante, but this novel is and will always be nothing like Ham on Rye. I will look into his other works in the hope that Arturo Bandini will turn out to be less of a daydreaming imbecile as well, because that's one of the main things that turned my stomach throughout the novel. ( )

This was a simple story of Italian immigrants struggling to survive in Colorado’s harsh winters. It made me angry at the parents, both of them and sad for them and their sons.
My mom was an Italian immigrant living in NYC and the novel reminded me of stories she told of having bread for breakfast and a fried egg for lunch. How she was ridiculed by her classmates for wearing the same dress to school each and every day. Bothe the novel and my mom’s stories made me feel sad ( )

I was really surprised by how much I liked this book. The prose was unassuming but able to communicate the inner and outer lives of each character with seamless transition. Fante had such a natural command of voice and character that the novel's structure just sort of fell into place. He may dazzle with high modernist pretensions of language play and aureate description but those literary foundations are all here in humble, utilitarian expression. You could actually draw a line from Henry James to this novel if you wanted to be all highfalutin about it.

I highly recommend this book. It is a quick and unassuming read but the narrative machinations are sophisticated lessons in how to erase oneself as an author. ( )

I was really surprised by how much I liked this book. The prose was unassuming but able to communicate the inner and outer lives of each character with seamless transition. Fante had such a natural command of voice and character that the novel's structure just sort of fell into place. He may dazzle with high modernist pretensions of language play and aureate description but those literary foundations are all here in humble, utilitarian expression. You could actually draw a line from Henry James to this novel if you wanted to be all highfalutin about it.

I highly recommend this book. It is a quick and unassuming read but the narrative machinations are sophisticated lessons in how to erase oneself as an author. ( )

Like I have seen in a lot of other comments about this book, I discovered Fante via Bukowski. This, to date, is the only book I have read by him but I found it brilliant. Very absorbing and beautiful. I really ought to finish the quartet when I can as I have heard things really get going in The Road to Los Angeles and Ask the Dust. ( )