Dan Fante, De l’alcool dur et du génie, 13E Note Editions, 2010
Cet article est paru une première fois, en français, sur L’amour délivre, le 1er décembre 2010.
“ Alcohol is God ” Marguerite Duras was supposed to say. To me, it rather seems to be the devil ! So long is the list of writers who let it come into their lives without succeeding in kicking it out.To speak only of beautiful, fascinating America, let’s quote : William Faulkner (“ You can write a short story while drinking alcohol, but not a novel ”), Fitzgerald and Hemingway, Poe and Twain, Jack London, and nearer us still, Raymond Carver , Charles Bukowski, and finally Dan Fante, father and son…
In France, we too have a few nice specimens of writers in the grip of alcohol. Baudelaire, Françoise Sagan, Alfred Jarry (he, according to a legend, would spend his days in bed drinking, lassoing bottles of white wine standing on shelves !), Isidore Ducasse Comte de Lautréamont (….” as beautiful as the trembling of hands in alcoholism ”…), etc.
“ Alcohol and literature ”(let’s conjure up Rimbaud), same spiritual fight, same human fight, and what it is all about, emotion.
Yesterday, giving way to my pleasurable habit I was loitering at “ Dialogues ” the great bookshop of Brest when I fell upon a book by Dan Fante, the son.
Just one word about John Fante : if you were to read but one of his books, read “ My Dog Stupid .” (in « West of Rome »). Father Fante tells us through one character about his happy eventful life in Los Angeles with his wife and children : that was when he was writing for Hollywood : to earn his living and also to lose a bit of his soul. They have four, maybe five children ; at least in the book. Big children who make life impossible for them two, as does the father for them all…The dog there wags his tail, barks like a dog, slobbers everywhere, acts as a buffer; and is a queer at that ; in returns for which it is in a clover !
For instance, every time one of the children acts as if he wanted to clear out from home to “ live his life ” somewhere else, Henry (alias father Fanta dubiously waits, considering his chances and then when the offspring makes up his mind at last to leave for good, murmurs to himself, truly relieved : “ Minus one ”, then the second one comes in his turn, “ Minus two ” murmurs father Fanta at once, and then “ Minus three ” of course ! Etc. It’s funny, even hilarious, impertinent, tender and moving, simple and beautiful. Those who love dogs and /or children should read “ My Dog Stupid ”.
Now I come to “ Alcohol and Genius ”. It’s a book of selected poems, written by Dan Fante between 1983 and 2002.
Fernando Pessoa, our great Portuguese poet, pretended (it’s in “the book of Unquietness“ I’ve told you before) that there are three kinds of poets. The first two kinds are those who seek approval and are only pretending. But the third and last kind lies deep inside me. Because you find the true ones there.
Who are the real poets ? They are the ones who write what they wish the way they feel, not caring about anything else, namely the expected or achieved effect, the success, the fame, money honours, respect, rewards and academics. Dan Fante may be a true one. Still his words are of a disconcerting banality, sometimes down to earth, in a poem which is never so ! Never vulgar, on the contrary always precious, incisive, often deep. A feat. The rhythm, from one poem to the other always concise practically always the same, is good and the words sound right and to the point : there, well done Dan! But tell me, is this how it happens, so slowly ?
I had a lovely time reading all these poems. I was told about the rosé at Gristede’s market, of Point Dume at Malibu, of Papa Fanta’s old Smith Coronna, of Bundy drive, of Beverly Hills and Santa Monica : this is America ! “ the country where all dreams may come true ” as my nephew says in LA.
In the note closing the great book, his translator Leon Mercadet confides to us that Dan Fante doesn’t drink any longer. He may be the first one among important writers who has masterly succeeded in putting back alcohol to its place, in its hell. Congratulations Dan.
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