It Catches My Heart in Its Hands by Charles Bukowski

My father had collected publications from this sort of beatnik world in college and all of those were on the shelves like he collected oh gosh. I remember trying to read Finnegan's Wake, just standing there in their study looking at the pages of it and being interested even if I wouldn't understand that. They liked Thomas Wolfe, look homeward Angel which is a book that has a kind of stylistic oddity to it that has not really stood the test of time. My parents were into Steinbeck and I read those when I was quite young like Cannery Row and Tortilla Flat.