I just re-read Trout Fishing in America by Richard Brautigan. I read it last circa 1971, when I was 15 and it was all the rage. I haven’t thought about it much since, but I started to name this site Trout Fishing in America, as though it were a child in a 60s commune, but thought better of it. I’m not just fishing for trout.
There’s a surprising amount of internet traffic on Brautigan. He committed suicide in 1984, apparently because along with the Summer of Love he had fallen out of favor. His running buddy Thomas McGuane said that ”when the 1960s ended, he was the baby thrown out with the bath water.” But he must not be that much out of favor, because there sure is a lot written about him.
There’s a 2012 biography of Brautigan, Jubilee by William Hjortsberg. I haven’t read the book, but the NY Times reviewed it.
I fly fish because as a kid I fished for crappie with minnows and catfish with blood bait and I read about fly fishing, which seemed altogether more serious. There was “Big Two-Hearted River,” there was an Orvis catalog I was sent because Field & Stream told me I could order it, and there was Trout Fishing in America. The Hemingway I could fathom, the Orvis catalog was glamorous, and I don’t know what I thought about Brautigan. I remember liking the cover photo, probably because Brautigan looked like Mark Twain and the girl looked like what the 60s were supposed to look like.
I think there’s a lot written about Trout Fishing in America because it’s a bit of an empty canvas. If you look for grand themes, you can impose them, and maybe Brautigan’s themes were in fact grand. I suspect though that it’s simpler than that. It’s messy and episodic because Brautigan was messy and episodic. It’s wry and amusing because Brautigan was wry and amusing. It’s a bit plotless because Brautigan was plotless. Brautigan writes about trout fishing because he liked trout fishing. He writes about hanging out and drinking port wine with the street life in Washington Square because that’s what he did. He writes about sex because he liked sex, and was apparently a pretty promiscuous guy–I learned from the internet that Brautigan suffered from rampant herpes and was into bondage. At 15 it’s better I didn’t know that, and at 61 I’d rather I didn’t. He is decidedly pre-feminist. He is also a very clear writer, his chapters are short, and there’s enough whimsy to keep me surprised and engaged.
I like that Trout Fishing in America is each of the book, the book in the book, and the book’s other main character. I doubt that I recognized that when I was 15.
Since I last read the book I’ve been to a lot of Brautigan’s places, San Francisco, the Big Wood River, the Redfish Lakes. They’re real places to me now, not a mythical landscape, and I can recognize that Brautigan was talking about San Francisco and a real trip to Idaho. Maybe it’s just a book about trout fishing.