In the realm of nature writing there exists the sub-culture of fly-fishing, a literary arena that has produced, perhaps, more books and essays than any other sporting endeavor. John Gierach, the author of Trout Bum and other delightful works, is considered by many in the fly-fishing world to be the foremost practitioner of the subtle art of blending the angling obsession with a lively prose that is highly entertaining, often educational, and sometimes enlightening. The arrival of each Gierach book generates considerable excitement in the fly-fishing community, moderate applause in the general realm of outdoor writing, and almost no recognition from the literary arbiters of good taste. So who is this man and why has he been ignored by the world of literary criticism?
If one were to ask Mr. Gierach this his answer might be a shrugging of the shoulders and a quick tossing of the bamboo rods into the truck (always American, preferably still sporting a carburetor), before he heads off on another angling odyssey. Then again, Gierach the curmudgeon might reply, “Don’t know. Don’t care.” After all, one of the subtle pleasures of the fly-fishing life, and it a life addiction for many, is the anonymity of the craft. They don’t call it the ‘quiet sport’ for nothing. In Dances With Trout, Gierach offers a possible explanation, noting the allure of West Yellowstone, the Mecca of fly-fishing destinations. “I’ve been told that angling notoriety is the best kind in that, although certain people may know who you are, you can still walk down any street in any town in the country without being recognized – except maybe in West”. So maybe it’s the subject matter.
Perhaps it’s an East/West rivalry; snobs versus cowboys.
Gierach himself isn’t sure as he explains in Even Brook Trout Get The Blues, “Rods [bamboo] are like books. I can usually tell quality from junk, but the idea of rightness is harder to pin down and impossible to defend. For instance, if you happen to like John Updike’s novels better than those of Jim Harrison, as some deluded easterners do, what could I possibly say to make you feel otherwise”. Whatever the reasons, some signs of recognition are out there beyond the cloistered community of fly-fishers. One notable example is the listing of Gierach’s, Sex, Death, and Flyfishing in an University of New Mexico honors seminar entitled, “Gone Fishin’: Fishing, Literature, and the Human Connection” right along with classics by Hemingway, Izaak Walton, and Norman Mclean”.
“Catching a fish,” says Sam Cook, “has always been a surprisingly wonderful thing, and I’m not sure we know why” (qtd. in Cunico). In a literary career that has produced fifteen books and over three hundred magazine articles, John Gierach has spent most of his life attempting to answer this simple question and anyone who is familiar with his work knows that no one does it better.
