Give me more...

I liked this story about a 'hard-edged underground literary movement', whose 'leader' official or otherwise is Dan Fante. His website says that: "Dan Fante knows a thing or two about surviving America. If you like your prose vodka-soaked, soulful and bleeding on the page, then Fante is your man." Quite. Sounds like my cup of tea. What I particularly like is the fact that Fante's following is also for his stubborness to aquiesce to what he thinks the mainstream will like/take, to what he feels he needs to write, which, for me, is the heart of writing from one's core. One of these writers is London based Lee Rourke who believes that those slim, beautiful, poetic novels frequently carry more weight and substance than the doorstoppers. I said in an earlier post that most of my favourite books (with the exception of Mitchell's Cloud Atlas, which I adored) have been the slim, pared down novels, like Peter Hobbs' The Short Day Dying, Gerard Donovan's Julius Winsome and, actually, most by Faber & Faber. It is more like trying to capture the undiluted essence of a single scent in just one raindrop. Poetic? Yeah.

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