Max Riffner

The Parlor

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Bandini!

Holy crap, I had no idea, but apparently they made a movie about John Fante. I’ve read Wait Until Spring, Bandini; it was one of my favorites. Holy crap, they got Colin Farrell to play him. What the…?!

I will most likely re-read Wait Until Spring, Bandini this weekend. How odd. I’d have that book laying out, people would ask me about it, and try as I might I could not end up sounding like a book snob describing it. Despite my inability to sum it up, rest assured it is a good read by a good writer. Fante, along with Bukowski and a host of others I was reading around that time, made me want to be a writer of some sort, or at least I enjoyed daydreaming about being a writer. Click-clacking on a typewriter, alone with a loosened tie and a bottle of bourbon in a hotel room. The vision contained a certain romance that appealed to me as an introverted young man in my early 20s.

Having had to shut myself away to produce a big work like a novel (or graphic novel in my case), it feels a bit like a sad prison.

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