La ciudad de los angeles caidos

Creo que supere mi adiccion Fante. Fante, como Bukowski, son adictivos y, quizas como todos los buenos escritores, o aquellos que sólo escribren sobre ellos, terminan al final agotando. Como un amigo al que uno quiere pero al que no desea ver por un tiempo xq siempre te cuenta el mismo problema. Aun así, la pasé muy bien con Fante y estoy listo y preparado para esperar la version de Robet Towne de ASK THE DUST.



algunas frases al azar sobre esta novela tan intensamente sobre Los Angeles, ciudad q no se ha escrito tanto como se merece, pero que ha concitado la mirada de gente clave: como Hammet, Chandler, Easton Ellis y, claro, Fante.


I went up to my room, up the dusty stairs of Bunker Hill, past the soot-covered frame buildings along that dark street, sand and oil and grease choking the futile palm trees standing like dying prisoners, chained to a little plot of buildings and old people sitting at windows, old people tottering out of doors, old people moving painfully along the dark street.

All of this land and this sea belongs to you. All of California. There is no California, no Los Angeles, no broken, uprooted people from the East, no fancy boulevards. This is your beautiful land with the desert and the mountains and the sea...



I sat in a dream of delight, an orgy of comfortable confidence: the world was so big, so full of things I could master. Ah, Los Angeles! Dust and fog of your lonely streets, I am no longer lonely. Just you wait, all of you ghosts of this room, just you wait, because it will happen yet...