samedi 18 septembre 2010

John Fante, ASK THE DUST, New York, Harper Perennial Modern Classics, 2006 [1939]

I worked hard. It was supposed to be Autumn, but I couldn't tell the difference. We had sun every day, blue skies every night. Sometimes there was fog. I was eating fruit again. The Japanese gave me credit and I had the pick of their stalls. Bananas, oranges, pears, plums. Once in a while I ate celery. I had a full can of tobacco and a new pipe. There wasn't any coffee, but I didn't mind. Then my new story hit the magazine stands. The Long Lost Hills! It was not as exciting as The Little Dog Laughed. I scarcely looked at the free copy Hackmuth sent me. This pleased me nevertheless. Some day I would have so many stories written I wouldn't remember where they appeared. "Hi there, Bandini! Nice story you had in the Atlantic Monthly this month." Bandini puzzled. "Did I have one in the Atlantic? Well, well."

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