Camino de Los Ángeles by John Fante, , available at Book Depository with free delivery worldwide. A los dieciocho años, Arturo Bandini vive con su madre y su hermana, dos beatas, en San Pedro, el puerto de Los Ángeles. Trabaja en empleos duros y mal. Read Camino de Los Angeles book reviews & author details and more at Free delivery on qualified by John Fante (Author). Be the first to review.

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Please catch my article–“Hospitality: The lack of continuity with the family threw me off and is never really explained.

Camino de Los Ángeles : John Fante :

My paperback edition has the same design but different colors. Ce frumos zice el: The Catholic guilt angle is still quite strong here.

La sua rabbia, i suoi sogni e la sua presunzione, i suoi castelli in aria, il suo sentirsi superiore al resto del mondo e incompreso da quello stesso cammino, sono tratti tipici della tarda adolescenza. Finished last night with this appropriately, and thankfully, brief book.

This book is Arturo Bandini at his best, he is mean, he is raw, he is spoiled, he has the mimimi syndrome, he wants to conquer the world, to write the perfect novel and get the nobel prize and all the women This Bandini reads Nietzsche und Schopenhauer, speaks using all the latest neologisms, hates the catholics, and is a dreamer. It’s no surprise to me that John Fante’s would-be publishers read about half or less of this and said NO WAY are we going to publish this.


Every morning I got up feeling like that.

He is however not completely irredeemable, as his solitary thoughts reveal. Va’ al parco a leggere il maestro all’ombra degli eucalipti.

It’s a crazy book, and a bit wild – not bad reading, but though I haven’t read Fante’s other books I re willing to bet most of them are better.

Fante wrote this book at In the Boulder Rocklin book the father is a bricklayer, while in this book the late father was a carpenter. It’s called Banning Park. This is a good book to read!

camino de los angeles – John Fante

Frustratingly accurate portrayal of adolescence with all its pitfalls and prating. It was man-made land, flat and in disorder, shacks unpainted, piles of lumber, piles of tin cans, oil derricks, and hot dog stands, fruit stands and old men on all sides of the road selling popcorn. As a final thought, I would say, that The Road to Los Angeles is indeed an essential part to the story of Arturo Bandini, but nevertheless seems to be lacking some of the nuance that Fante’s later books had.

It’s called Banning Park. It focuses on the family dynamic between Bandini, his parents, and two younger brothers. Just when I’d about had enough of the freaked out, uber-hormonal, lying, shrieking, never-shut-up think Eddie Haskell on speed AND steroidsendlessly though often quite amusing repetitive, strident, fantacizing, big word using and abusing, grandiose loudmouth, year old peckerhead Arturo Bandini, the book ends rather abruptly.

Camino de Los Ángeles – John Fante – Google Books

Fante’s a one of a kind writer, in a general way kind of like Henry Green. Lists with This Book. He’ll exhaust you but you’ll never forget him.


Arturo is one of the great characters literature has ever seen. Why do you go up this street and not that?

Camino de Los Ángeles

Inhe dropped out of college and moved to Southern California to concentrate on his writing. Why do you go up this street and not that?

Ergo, I now leave you and your ever charming daughter my beloved sister Mona and seek the fabulous usufructs of my incipient career in profound solitude. And, per se, the fumbling fulminations of cerebration and intellect find little fruition in the debauched, distorted hegemony that we poor mortals, for lack of better and more concise terminology, call home.

You kind of have Yet another repulsive shithead narrative, paving the way for the likes of Bukowsi and even warming the platform for A Confederacy of Dunces. Arturo, va cercando altro, ancora non sa bene cosa, ma ha un occhio rivolto al futuro. Ergo, I assume in no uncertain terms that you will reciprocate in kindred fashion.

And, per se, the fumbling fulminations of cerebration and intellect find little fruition in the debauched, distorted hegemony that we poor mortals, for lack of a better and more concise terminology, call home.