I have just completed reading the novel/novella "Trout Fishing in America", not all of the poetry. I was truly captivated by its unique style. The disconnected narrative added an element of intrigue, making it feel like a series of disjointed yet fascinating vignettes. The natural depictions were vivid and immersive, allowing me to envision the landscapes and scenes with great clarity. However, what I especially adored was the surrealism that pervaded the story. The author's pride in the building supply store where one could purchase a trout stream by the foot was palpable, and rightfully so, as it was indeed a highlight. It was even more meaningful for me to come across snippets that were connected to my own life. References to specific parts of San Francisco, Klamath Falls, and even a brief mention of growing up in Winchester, Virginia, created an eerie sense of familiarity. Discovering that the author did research and writing of the book at the Mechanics Institute, where I had just become a member, was a delightful coda.
Nevertheless, I must admit that I didn't fully understand the ending. I'm not sure what mayonnaise has to do with anything, and while I appreciate the concept of found writing, it didn't seem to seamlessly connect with the character or the overall idea of "Trout Fishing in America". Despite this, the novel/novella left a lasting impression on me, and I look forward to exploring more of the author's works in the future.
I sold my paperback copy of "Trout Fishing in America" for $4.20 on eBay last month. I probably could have easily fetched a few more dollars for it, but you can't win them all! Richard Brautigan likely thought the same as he put the shotgun to his head and pulled the trigger. What a pity!
As I listened to this book in the audible format, I was certain that I must have read it a long time ago, yet none of it seemed even remotely familiar to me. That was until I was almost at the end, and there was the store with the used trout streams for sale. That definitely triggered all kinds of memories!
This is such a classic. But when I asked two 18-year-olds if they had ever heard of this book, of course they hadn't. One even made the rather essential comment about not liking books about fishing.
I don't know exactly how many chapters this book has, but the number is quite high. Most of them are fairly short, which is something I often appreciate in a book. This book is strange, witty, and wonderful, especially for those of us of a certain age who like to pretend that those days back then were the best ever. Which, of course, they weren't. But I'm glad that they recently made this into an audible book, and I'm glad I got the chance to listen to it. And I'm even glad that I passed on my original paperback copy to another person who might cherish it.