The Brotherhood of the Grape

Recently, I had the pleasure of viewing a new film - on DVD - called Ask the Dust, a movie based on one of my favorite novels by John Fante. Although I had my doubts about the casting of Matt Dillon in the lead role of Fante's semi-autobiographical hero Arturo Bandini, I could not resist seeing the story on film. At worst, the film would bring back a few memories of my youth; the days of late night college nights and reading coming alive once more. At best, I would experience some of the sights and sounds that had been dancing around in my head for over a decade, and I would get to see that wonderful ending of Fante's in full visual glory. I was not disappointed. The film was better than I expected - still not perfect - and my evening, a highlight of the summer, was too. One pleasant after-effect of viewing the film was an insatiable desire to re-read one of my favorite novels, The Brotherhood of the Grape. Since this was to be the summer of weighty texts - most notably Don Quixote and Emma -, I thought it would be soothing to take a break from the constant need for intellectual validation, and spend some time off the high horse (or donkey, in Sancho Panza's case). Less than 24 hours later, I had filled my soul once again with the simple genius of Fante, a writer I have been most fortunate to experience in my reading life (thanks to Charles Bukowski).

Rather than go into Fante's biographical tale, answering too many questions on his personal history and literary timeline, I thought I'd spend a few lines taking about the typical themes, style, and subject matter of a Fante novel. Fante's novels, in my opinion, are about struggling to accept identity, heritage, and familial responsibilities, while also exploring individuality and chasing dreams. His novels attack the basic human conditions (mostly in the ethnic lower and middle classes), with a stripped down, raw, street-like flavor. He is not as harsh as Bukowski, nor as intellectual as Knut Hamsun, Saul Bellow, or Dostovesky (a hero of Fante, and his protagonist Henry Molise in Brotherhood ), but he is capable of uncovering honesty, the root of people's pain, and the sadness - the burden - of wasted, unattainable dreams. Fante writes in a language everyone can understand, and though a little gross at times (nasty prostitutes and decrepit old nurses who use enema bags on themselves after sex come to mind as solid examples), he makes you feel like he's talking to you, instead of over you. Truly, Fante is not out to impress his readers with his vocabulary, his education, or his cleverness. As an ex-wannabe writer, I can say that reading a novel by John Fante is an inspiration. Fante's reader/writer- in- training is encouraged by the unpretentious style, and less than inconceivably brilliant - and daunting - structure and depth one would find in a walk through a Dickens novel or a Shakespeare play. Fante, like Bukowski, and, dare I say it, Hemingway, makes a reader feel like his or her dream of becoming a writer is not so impossible. I like that about Fante. Finally, another aspect of Fante's novels that I enjoy is his strong Italian upbringing - complete with all of the cultural peculiarities I've seen or experienced in the Italian- rich town (and household) of my youth - which resonates in his subject matter, settings, characters, conflicts, and themes. The Brotherhood of the Grape is pure Italia!

An in-depth plot summary of this most excellent novel would be a disservice to anyone considering the quick read in the near future. Still, there should be some room in this small pondering of mine to mention the set-up, and a few small moments that always elicit the greatest pleasure. The novel focuses on the gruff, hard-headed, aging, alcoholic Nick Molise - stone mason extraordinaire- , and his eldest son Henry (strangely enough one of the only Fante protagonists not named Arturo Bandini) coming to terms with each other (if that's possible). The cantankerous old bastard and his wife of 50 plus years have a huge fight, and it's up to the eldest son - the other children are worthless- to go and resolve the situation. Along the way, Henry re-lives the days of his Italian youth, and attempts to come to terms with his tyrant of a father. Henry, like most of Fante's heroes, is a successful writer who has risen above his upbringing to earn a certain amount of hard won fame and financial security. His refusal to learn and work in the family trade is a sore spot for the old man. Most of the story plays out in the mind, experiences, and past of Henry Molise, but he's not, in my opinion, the novel's most resonate character. Nick Molise is a character worthy of Henry Chinaski, Wolf Larson (although not a drunkard), and Lt. Frederic Henry. Nick's gambling habits, fisticuffs, and Dionysian thirsts are compelling. His evening tours of great buildings raised by his own talents are inspiring. For a terrible father, a unfaithful husband, and a town embarrassment, Nick is strangely sympathetic, and the reader genuinely roots for him. The family's long suffering at Nick's hands can be seen in numerous, and humorous, ways without feeling a moment of sadness for the children's life-failures, due to the rottenness of their father. This is not to say the novel has only one great character; the quintessential Italian mother, the baseball - obsessed younger brother, Mario, and the god-like winemaker, Angleo Musso, are all wonderful. For these reasons, and all of the wonderful moments - the pissing in the mother-in-law's gloves and the day at Musso's vineyard come to mind-, The Brotherhood of the Grape is a favorite. Finally, the novel's title conjures up some vivid recollections of all of the old Italian men of my youth, sitting around a table drinking homemade wine, and chattering on in their Italian, broken English mix. A society of hardworking tradesmen, bonded by their love - and dominance- of family, their incomparable stamina, their beloved homeland, and their appreciation for all things carnal.

Bellow, Shakespeare and Bukowski

Bellow's impact on my reading life could not be overstated. Reading his books (I've read 5 of them, but not Augie March) has been a sublimely rewarding experience in many ways. Not only are his stories complex, insightful and interesting, they actually make you feel smarter after having read them (I liken the experience to reading the New York Times Magazine or The Economist). Henderson is my sentimental favorite, but More Die of Heartbreak had me underlining passages like a madman. Bellow is very brainy, and strikingly cognizant of the complexities - and cost - of poorly matched relationships. His characters strive for something exceptional; they allow themselves to get caught up in the moment and taken away on spontaneous, often dangerous adventures, and they often stand aloof from most of society. There's also a heavy Jewish, Russian Literature/Art/History, and Chicago influence in his work that I enjoy.

King Lear has always been my favorite Shakespearean drama, and I almost had it on my list too! Sadly, I saw a terrible production of the play 2 years ago that lessened my passion for the work. It's hard to say there's any one play I like the most. I've acted in A Midsummer Night's Dream, so that's a sentimental favorite. Twelfth Night is actually a newer version of The Comedy of Errors (Plutarch's The Menechmi stands as the original source for both plays). I prefer Twelfth because it's superior in its characters, design, etc., yet Comedy is underrated, in my opinion. Shakespeare's place in my literary/artistic life is peerless. I've read and seen 23 of the works.

As far as Bukowski goes, his books really fall into 4 categories. There's the novels, which tell the autobiographical story of one Henry Chinaski, an ugly, angry, abused, self destructive man who goes through childhood (Ham on Rye), into adulthood surviving the hard knocks of a cruel and unfulfilling job market (Factotum), and the terrible relationships (Women) he "enjoys". Post Office completes the series because it's at that time in his life that his years of drinking, hoboing and gambling, coupled with a thousand nights of writing poetry while staring into the bottom of a whiskey bottle, pays off and he finds his artistic future - and leaves the drudgery of civil service. The books of short stories (most notable Tales of Ordinary Madness and Notes of a Dirty Old Man, if I remember them correctly - I've read over 20 of his books) are fun, weird and interesting too. Still, I prefer novels to short stories, always have. Then there's the books of letters, most of which were publish posthumously by Buk's wife. Those are really interesting if you find letter writing to be a lost art form - I do - and you fancy yourself - and a good buddy of yours - bound and published for the entire "cool" world to read and genuflect to. Finally, there are the books of poetry, which are substantial. There's no particular volume I like more than another just poems I've remembered over the years. He's a hit-or-miss poet, but a true original. Out of all of the college students, housewives and freaks, he's the guy who actually makes the drunken ramble work. Interestingly enough, the book I first read by Bukowski was Hollywood. It's about the making of Barfly, a movie Bukowski wrote that documents a small period in his life. Pulp is an interesting detective novel (also publish posthumously) wherein the main character is searching for Celini (who's dead at this time in history) in the bowels of Los Angeles bookstores (at least that's how I remember it; it's been a long time). Look out Raymond Chandler! On a final note, Bukowski has lead me to John Fante (The Brotherhood of the Grape and Ask the Dust are excellent), much like Ernest Hemingway led me to Beryl Markham's West with the Night (which should have been on my Runners Up list).
I'd read Ham on Rye or Hollywood first.