Description:
"When you're fly-fishing for sharks," observes Richard Louv from an 18-foot aluminum boat 12 miles off the coast of San Diego doing just that, "the line between lunacy and sanity is pretty thin." The truth is, most anglers, whatever they're fishing for, live fairly close to that line, and it's that proximity that leads Louv on a provocative quest. "The waters we fish, and how we fish, reflect larger political, ethical, even spiritual issues," he writes. "How shall we reconnect to nature? How should we treat fellow creatures of other species? How do we hold fast to what is old, timeless, and slow?" As he travels from the Pacific to the Atlantic and the Gulf Coast to the frozen lakes of Northern Michigan, Louv ponders the ways and whys of pretty much the whole teeming democracy of rods and reelers--fly-fishers, ice-fishers, big-game fishers, guides, tournament bassers, even poachers--and their impact on American culture and the environment. He heads out into streams, lakes, and oceans with them, attends expos with them, buys bait with them, and sits down in coffee shops with them to better understand who they are, what lures them, what they take from the waters, and what they give back. He meets a marvelous group of players, among them the sons of Ernest Hemingway and R.F.K.; fly-fishing's incomparable first lady, Joan Wulff; and the less well-pedigreed, too, like a Texas woman who poignantly describes how bass fishing saved her life after she was diagnosed with terminal cancer and her church shunned her because she was a lesbian. He explores how fishing has traditionally tied together generations--including those of his own family--and even how finding a long-forgotten strain of trout in Southern California could halt future development in its tracks. Louv might easily have gotten skunked on such an ambitious fishing trip; instead, his journey reveals much about America and its love of angling. --Jeff Silverman
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