One of my favorite books by the oft-overlooked writer John Fante, in which the last days of an Italian stonemason, domineering father, alcoholic, and womanizer, are chronicled by one of his sons. This was the last novel Fante wrote before going blind, a complication of diabetes (the very last one, Dreams from Bunker Hill, was written via dictation). It was optioned for film shortly after publication in the late 70s, to be directed by Francis Ford Coppola, but that never came to fruition. One wonders what might have been had it actually been made--would it have become a classic, exposing a wider audience to Fante's work?
I love the simple grapes against the brown weave of the cloth cover.