What do you think?
Rate this book
The River Why
Flyfishing genius Gus Orviston, seeking refuge from his stuffy, world-famous father and ripsnorting cowgirl mother, embarks on a reluctant quest for meaning that leads him to an astonishing task
293 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1983
About the author
David James Duncan
25 books614 followersDavid James Duncan (born 1952) is an American novelist and essayist, best known for his two bestselling novels, The River Why (1983) and The Brothers K (1992). Both involve fly fishing, baseball, and family.
Both received the Pacific Northwest Booksellers award; The Brothers K was a New York Times Notable Book in 1992 and won a Best Books Award from the American Library Association.
Film adaptation
In 2008, The River Why was adapted into a "low-budget film" of the same name starring William Hurt and Amber Heard. Since April 30, 2008, the film rights to The River Why have become the subject of a lawsuit by Duncan alleging copyright infringement, among other issues.
Other works
Duncan has written a collection of short stories, River Teeth (1996), and a memoir of sorts, My Story As Told By Water (2001). His latest work is God Laughs and Plays: Churchless Sermons in Response to the Preachments of the Fundamentalist Right, published in 2006.
An essay, "Bird Watching as a Blood Sport", appeared in Harper's Magazine in 1998; Duncan wrote the foreword to Thoreau on Water: Reflecting Heaven (2001).
An essay, "A Mickey Mantle koan: The obstinate grip of an autographed baseball" appeared in Harper's Magazine in 1992.
Personal life
Duncan was born in Portland, Oregon and lives in Missoula County, Montana.
Both received the Pacific Northwest Booksellers award; The Brothers K was a New York Times Notable Book in 1992 and won a Best Books Award from the American Library Association.
Film adaptation
In 2008, The River Why was adapted into a "low-budget film" of the same name starring William Hurt and Amber Heard. Since April 30, 2008, the film rights to The River Why have become the subject of a lawsuit by Duncan alleging copyright infringement, among other issues.
Other works
Duncan has written a collection of short stories, River Teeth (1996), and a memoir of sorts, My Story As Told By Water (2001). His latest work is God Laughs and Plays: Churchless Sermons in Response to the Preachments of the Fundamentalist Right, published in 2006.
An essay, "Bird Watching as a Blood Sport", appeared in Harper's Magazine in 1998; Duncan wrote the foreword to Thoreau on Water: Reflecting Heaven (2001).
An essay, "A Mickey Mantle koan: The obstinate grip of an autographed baseball" appeared in Harper's Magazine in 1992.
Personal life
Duncan was born in Portland, Oregon and lives in Missoula County, Montana.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 1,092 reviews
October 22, 2017
There comes a time when the growing frustration with the generally unfair paradoxes of existence becomes so unbearable that one needs to gain distance from himself to see clearly, to listen with the eyes and hear with the heart.
Or simply one reaches a moment when action and emotional implication start to feel so forced, so disjointed, that a clean break is needed to reconnect again with the invisible chord of communion that binds us to others.
Like the convoluted, meandering river that exists only in the flowing, as the Tao prophezied, life is bestowed upon us with all its unfathomable mysteries to be pondered about until the gnawing void of indifference dampens the impatient eagerness of childhood days.
That is what happens to Gus Orviston, who at the age of twenty is tired of struggling against the numbness that has utterly obliterated his zest for life. Born into an eccentric family that is obsessed with fly-fishing, Gus embarks on a lone trip to regain his inner balance.
Seeking solitude at the riverbanks of a remote rural area in Oregon, he settles down in a small wooden cabin that is surrounded by a dense grove of cedars that shrouds the location with their drooping branches.
Secluded and isolated in and out, the disenchanted young man believes he will fill the hollowness that threatens to engulf him by devoting all his mental strength to perfecting his already off-the-charts fishing techniques.
Weeks turn into months and by the time Gus realizes he is adrift in the vastness of his nothingness, he recoils from the sting of that so much desired individual freedom that now seems useless in the face of such desolate loneliness. He craves for human touch and that is the tipping point in his pilgrimage towards self-discovery.
Duncan’s novel is much more complex and vibrant than the archetypal existential bildungsroman because he explores the limits of spirituality beyond the frames of institutionalized religion while drawing a symmetric allegory between Gus’ restless meditations on his relation with the world, his place in it and the art of fly-fishing. The result is an incredibly well-rounded metaphor, an uncommonly hybrid book composed of metaphysical pondering, self-effacing humor and breathtaking descriptions of the American wildlife that proves to be the key to Gus’ spiritual awakening.
Highly reminiscent of Mary Oliver’s naturalistic poetry and R.W. Emerson’s philosophical pantheism, Duncan’s prose pulsates with boundless love for the natural world. Man’s soul is irretrievably connected to it and the divine is to be found everywhere in the here and the now; not in liturgical or organized prayer. Man’s soul should be the result of intimate, personal introspection rather the dogmatic notion of sacred purity.
Duncan is as intense as he is unpretentious and his words flow naturally and unfeigned like the waters of a silvery river that seeks its final release into the vast ocean.
Attitude changes everything. If he is respectful, the fisherman might become one with the hooked salmon, and the light line that unites them is the answer to the silent questioning of The River Why.
What I discovered at the end of Gus’ line has become my favorite place to be: the self melted with the Eternal Now, the senses becoming what they perceive, the invisible line of light and love, so fine, so fragile and yet so indestructible that binds us, everything, all of it, together, secured in tight-knit gratefulness.
Gus finally understood that the river wasn’t asking why, it was sculpting the answer with its unstoppable course, from its source to the sea.
Or simply one reaches a moment when action and emotional implication start to feel so forced, so disjointed, that a clean break is needed to reconnect again with the invisible chord of communion that binds us to others.
Like the convoluted, meandering river that exists only in the flowing, as the Tao prophezied, life is bestowed upon us with all its unfathomable mysteries to be pondered about until the gnawing void of indifference dampens the impatient eagerness of childhood days.
That is what happens to Gus Orviston, who at the age of twenty is tired of struggling against the numbness that has utterly obliterated his zest for life. Born into an eccentric family that is obsessed with fly-fishing, Gus embarks on a lone trip to regain his inner balance.
Seeking solitude at the riverbanks of a remote rural area in Oregon, he settles down in a small wooden cabin that is surrounded by a dense grove of cedars that shrouds the location with their drooping branches.
Secluded and isolated in and out, the disenchanted young man believes he will fill the hollowness that threatens to engulf him by devoting all his mental strength to perfecting his already off-the-charts fishing techniques.
Weeks turn into months and by the time Gus realizes he is adrift in the vastness of his nothingness, he recoils from the sting of that so much desired individual freedom that now seems useless in the face of such desolate loneliness. He craves for human touch and that is the tipping point in his pilgrimage towards self-discovery.
Duncan’s novel is much more complex and vibrant than the archetypal existential bildungsroman because he explores the limits of spirituality beyond the frames of institutionalized religion while drawing a symmetric allegory between Gus’ restless meditations on his relation with the world, his place in it and the art of fly-fishing. The result is an incredibly well-rounded metaphor, an uncommonly hybrid book composed of metaphysical pondering, self-effacing humor and breathtaking descriptions of the American wildlife that proves to be the key to Gus’ spiritual awakening.
Highly reminiscent of Mary Oliver’s naturalistic poetry and R.W. Emerson’s philosophical pantheism, Duncan’s prose pulsates with boundless love for the natural world. Man’s soul is irretrievably connected to it and the divine is to be found everywhere in the here and the now; not in liturgical or organized prayer. Man’s soul should be the result of intimate, personal introspection rather the dogmatic notion of sacred purity.
Duncan is as intense as he is unpretentious and his words flow naturally and unfeigned like the waters of a silvery river that seeks its final release into the vast ocean.
Attitude changes everything. If he is respectful, the fisherman might become one with the hooked salmon, and the light line that unites them is the answer to the silent questioning of The River Why.
What I discovered at the end of Gus’ line has become my favorite place to be: the self melted with the Eternal Now, the senses becoming what they perceive, the invisible line of light and love, so fine, so fragile and yet so indestructible that binds us, everything, all of it, together, secured in tight-knit gratefulness.
Gus finally understood that the river wasn’t asking why, it was sculpting the answer with its unstoppable course, from its source to the sea.
October 20, 2012
David James Duncan is a hero in our home, an integral part of my oldest son's coming of age. In 1991 Aaron was going to turn 16, and I had just finished reading The River Why for the first time. For dozens of reasons I fell in love with the book, and wanted to share the book with Aaron, and avid reader himself.
The paperback copy I had was a later edition, and I sent my copy to the Sierra Club in San Francisco, explaining that I knew they would not share the author's address, could they please send on my edition, with my note requesting the author sign my copy, to be given to my son.
A month or so passed, and one day I received a package in the mail, from David James Duncan, who had replaced my paperback with a first edition (in a note to me he wrote he "hoped I did not mind" replacing the paperback! The inscription reads "To Aaron, on the occasion of your 16th birthday, hoping your own path on the river why is full of twist's and turns that are wonderful." When he wrote the word "why" it was as a meandering river....
Of course this book, and the letters that came with it, are one of my son's treasures, and now, as he prepares to have his first child, a boy, he plans on sharing this gift with him one day.
The paperback copy I had was a later edition, and I sent my copy to the Sierra Club in San Francisco, explaining that I knew they would not share the author's address, could they please send on my edition, with my note requesting the author sign my copy, to be given to my son.
A month or so passed, and one day I received a package in the mail, from David James Duncan, who had replaced my paperback with a first edition (in a note to me he wrote he "hoped I did not mind" replacing the paperback! The inscription reads "To Aaron, on the occasion of your 16th birthday, hoping your own path on the river why is full of twist's and turns that are wonderful." When he wrote the word "why" it was as a meandering river....
Of course this book, and the letters that came with it, are one of my son's treasures, and now, as he prepares to have his first child, a boy, he plans on sharing this gift with him one day.
March 10, 2021
During my entire life I angled not a single fish nor had a wish to so the fishy side of the story interested me much less than the philosophical.
The narrator starts his personal tale with his parents’ honeymoon…
But the philosophical side of the story turned out to be also fishy…
It always gets on my nerves when the author pretends to play a role of some wise buffoon…
How clever… All the adolescent psychologists will find themselves out of work soon…
Smoked salmon is the only kind of fish that can really turn me on now.
The narrator starts his personal tale with his parents’ honeymoon…
…honeymoons are intended to seal the union of bride and groom till death does them part. But whereas we imagine the usual chemistry of such excursions to be a uniting through corporeal and spiritual familiarity – a sharing of meals, scenic wonders, wines and bathrooms, of kisses, caresses, and inane little foofoo names – my parents enjoyed no such chemistry. Their honeymoon was more fusion than union – the resulting bond not that of lovebirds, but of a tough metal alloy.
But the philosophical side of the story turned out to be also fishy…
It always gets on my nerves when the author pretends to play a role of some wise buffoon…
The purpose of puberty is to shoot an innocent and gullible child full of nasty glandular secretions that manifest in the mind as confusion, in the innards as horniness, upon the skin as pimples, and on the tongue as cocksure venomous disbelief in every piece of information, true or false, gleaned from one’s parents since infancy.
How clever… All the adolescent psychologists will find themselves out of work soon…
Smoked salmon is the only kind of fish that can really turn me on now.
August 11, 2009
Well, this is now my favorite book, bar none. In fact, I liked this book so much I feel half inclined to go back and deduct a star from all of my other 'read' books just so this 5 star one can stand out.
It had aspects of all of my favorite books combined.
Comedy and fantastic writing that is at times beautifully simple, and intellectually dense.
Every character stood out as an incredibly interesting individual, so much so that if the author hadn't of said this was a work of fiction himself I wouldn't have believed it.
Deep philosophy blends beautifully next to all the other humdrums of life. And then, three quarters of the way through the book I'm surprised by a love story! One that didn't even need the whole book for me to get attached to it.
My god... this book was genius.
If you think you need to like fishing to appreciate this book, you're wrong. The only thing you really need is an appreciation for nature.
It had aspects of all of my favorite books combined.
Comedy and fantastic writing that is at times beautifully simple, and intellectually dense.
Every character stood out as an incredibly interesting individual, so much so that if the author hadn't of said this was a work of fiction himself I wouldn't have believed it.
Deep philosophy blends beautifully next to all the other humdrums of life. And then, three quarters of the way through the book I'm surprised by a love story! One that didn't even need the whole book for me to get attached to it.
My god... this book was genius.
If you think you need to like fishing to appreciate this book, you're wrong. The only thing you really need is an appreciation for nature.
February 8, 2019
”Many men go fishing all of their lives without knowing it is not fish they are after.”
--- Henry David Thoreau
Part spiritualishy-quest, part fishing tales, part family drama, add in a quirky, fanciful introduction to romance, a coming-of-age tale, some interestingly eccentric characters with their own strange stories to share, and a reverent approach to Nature – all set in / on / near the mythical Tamawanis River in Oregon.
I added this book to my to-read list three years ago, right after I finished reading David James Duncan’s ‘The Brothers K,” which, initially, I thought I might end up loving perhaps a bit more than this one as a story, but this story has its own charms, and it will be a long time before I forget this one with its memorable characters and the setting.
There were the letters, there was the word: plain as water, in a flowing, utterly uncrabbed hand, current, erosion, gravity, and chance had written why upon the valley floor! Billions of ever-changing, ever-the-same gallons of gurgling sun-and-moon-washed ink, spelling forever, in plain English, why. It was incredible. It had to be kidding. Rivers can’t write, let alone ask questions.
why it said. It had a point. What did I know about what rivers could or couldn’t do? But granting it literacy, what did it mean by why? And was it asking me? I didn’t know. I looked upstream and down for a clue, but all I saw were the random scribbled curves of runs and rapids. Yet right below, in quarter-mile letters it had taken centuries to form, water—my favorite element—asked in the only language I could read, why.
While there is a “spiritual” / religious aspect to this story, don’t let that dissuade you since it is more of a loosely woven philosophy involving Nature interwoven with a sense of religious reverence for the world around us, many of which are relayed through allegorical fishing tales, some through introductions of other characters.
Family is another strong theme in this story, from Gus’ parents, his father a gentleman’s fly fisherman, his mother strictly a “raucous cowgirl” who uses bait, to his younger brother Bill Bob who seems to float through his life as a connecting, if quiet, force that binds them together through a love of nature, and an acknowledgement of the grace of living, despite their differences.
"And so I learned what solitude really was. It was raw material – awesome, malleable, older than men or worlds or water. And it was merciless – for it let a man become precisely what he alone made of himself."
--- Henry David Thoreau
Part spiritualishy-quest, part fishing tales, part family drama, add in a quirky, fanciful introduction to romance, a coming-of-age tale, some interestingly eccentric characters with their own strange stories to share, and a reverent approach to Nature – all set in / on / near the mythical Tamawanis River in Oregon.
I added this book to my to-read list three years ago, right after I finished reading David James Duncan’s ‘The Brothers K,” which, initially, I thought I might end up loving perhaps a bit more than this one as a story, but this story has its own charms, and it will be a long time before I forget this one with its memorable characters and the setting.
There were the letters, there was the word: plain as water, in a flowing, utterly uncrabbed hand, current, erosion, gravity, and chance had written why upon the valley floor! Billions of ever-changing, ever-the-same gallons of gurgling sun-and-moon-washed ink, spelling forever, in plain English, why. It was incredible. It had to be kidding. Rivers can’t write, let alone ask questions.
why it said. It had a point. What did I know about what rivers could or couldn’t do? But granting it literacy, what did it mean by why? And was it asking me? I didn’t know. I looked upstream and down for a clue, but all I saw were the random scribbled curves of runs and rapids. Yet right below, in quarter-mile letters it had taken centuries to form, water—my favorite element—asked in the only language I could read, why.
While there is a “spiritual” / religious aspect to this story, don’t let that dissuade you since it is more of a loosely woven philosophy involving Nature interwoven with a sense of religious reverence for the world around us, many of which are relayed through allegorical fishing tales, some through introductions of other characters.
Family is another strong theme in this story, from Gus’ parents, his father a gentleman’s fly fisherman, his mother strictly a “raucous cowgirl” who uses bait, to his younger brother Bill Bob who seems to float through his life as a connecting, if quiet, force that binds them together through a love of nature, and an acknowledgement of the grace of living, despite their differences.
"And so I learned what solitude really was. It was raw material – awesome, malleable, older than men or worlds or water. And it was merciless – for it let a man become precisely what he alone made of himself."
September 10, 2020
At age twenty, Gus Orviston tells of his life growing up in rural Oregon in a fishing family. His dad writes about fishing. His parents met while fishing. They constantly debate the merits of bait versus fly fishing. Upon graduating from high school, he believes his life will be complete if he can achieve the “ultimate schedule” of doing nothing but eating, sleeping, and fishing. So, he moves away from home to an isolated cabin near a stream. Gus starts to notice the impact of human activity on his surroundings, which changes his outlook. He eventually figures out that there needs to be more to his life than a single-minded pursuit, and he branches out.
This novel is so much more than a book about fishing. It is about finding one’s place in the world. It contains musings about love, spirituality, and life. Fishing becomes a metaphor for a search for meaning in life. It expresses a reverence for the earth and its creatures.
The author weaves together beautiful descriptions of nature, a number of mini-stories, and a great deal of humor. There are a number of eccentric characters – a five-year-old child nicknamed Hemingway, a dog named Descartes, and a young woman who fishes from a tree. I found it extremely creative, and though I am far from a fisherman, I very much enjoyed this uplifting story.
This novel is so much more than a book about fishing. It is about finding one’s place in the world. It contains musings about love, spirituality, and life. Fishing becomes a metaphor for a search for meaning in life. It expresses a reverence for the earth and its creatures.
The author weaves together beautiful descriptions of nature, a number of mini-stories, and a great deal of humor. There are a number of eccentric characters – a five-year-old child nicknamed Hemingway, a dog named Descartes, and a young woman who fishes from a tree. I found it extremely creative, and though I am far from a fisherman, I very much enjoyed this uplifting story.
June 17, 2023
Full review at a later date.
March 25, 2020
O the gallant fisher’s life,
It is the best of any!
‘Tis full of pleasure, void of strife
And ’tis beloved by many.
Sometimes it’s good to go outside your comfort zone and try something completely different. I’ve never been interested in fishing, despite some close friends’ repeated invitations to come along on their trips. Turns out I’ve been a fisherman all my life and didn’t know it. Gus, the young man who is crazy about fishing in this seminal novel, is the one who opened my eyes to the deeper significance of the art. Born on the North Western coast of the US, Gus is the scion of a fishing family where the book of Izaak Walton, provider of my opening quote, is both a source of inspiration and of fiery controversy between his fly-fishing father and his bait-fishing mother.
Years before I could have put it into words, I realized that my fate would lead me beside still waters, beside rough waters, beside blue, green, muddy, clear, and salt waters. From the beginning my mind and heart were so taken up with the liquid element that nearly every other thing on the earth’s bulbous face struck me as irrelevant, distracting, a waste of my time.
The first part of the story is the bait at the end of the line with which the reader is lured to take a bite and sample the goods. And I for one was captivated: hook, line and sinker! I’ve rarely encountered such exuberance, such joy in the use of language as displayed by the account of young Gus coming into this world and of his growing up in this fantastically competitive and argumentative household. Zounds, Drat and Bother the Bleeding Fates! exclaims his upper class English father, nicknamed H2O by his scion and narrator, every time he is challenged in his purist approach to the art of fly fishing. In the opposite corner sits his mother, a local Portland redneck with an irreverent attitude and a knack for out-fishing her famous husband:
“Glum AGIN? Cheer up, boy! Always limpin’ around with a burr in yer ass! Smile, dammit!”
Later in the novel, my admiration for the humour and the language was matched by my interest in the elegance and beauty of the allegory between fishing and spiritual emancipation. What could have been a typical coming of age story of a gloomy teenager leaving the family nest and striking out on his own in the wide world, becomes under the pen of David James Duncan a major philosophical treaty about the condition of the modern man in his search for meaning. The theme is spelled out in fishing analogies all through the text, but probably the most clear resume comes in the afterword to the anniversary edition that I’ve read:
A migration I see humanity dying to make is not geographical: it’s a journey from lives governed by the head to lives governed by the heart.
Gus starts his journey by renouncing a college education in order to rent a solitary cabin in a wild part of Oregon, by the side of a salmon rich river, where he hopes to prove to his father and to his mother that he is the very best fisherman of all. By catching more fish than everybody else, Gus hopes to prove his worth in the eyes of his peers. He has a lot of native talent from his mother, a good training from his father, talent, determination, method: everything he needs to become the perfect scientific angler, the epitome of the Western ethos of Nature being there to be conquered, subdued by the daring pioneer spirit.
If the fool had only known how to swim there wouldn’t be any of this seething in my brain – this What-is-Death / What-is-Life / Why-am-I-here / What-am-I-for stuff. What use were such questions? Hobgoblins – that’s all they were – noisy abstract swill good for nothing but scaring and depressing the hell out of everybody they occurred to ...
The breaking point of this blind rush into the Guinness Book of Records for Fishing comes when the river in question, just like the young Gus mind, becomes engulfed in a deep fog. Out of this unknown space comes floating by the dead body of a fellow fisherman, prompting the arrival of the Big Questions, those hobgoblins so beloved by the Russian classic novelists. The river is asking Gus already :WHY?
But what was the difference between need and greed? How many fish could a man kill without his killing becoming wanton?
Which brings me to the third and final reason I am sure this novel will become one of my all time favorites: It doesn’t simply expose the problems faced by modern man, it honestly tries to find a better way forward, both for the individual redemption and for the fate of a finely balanced natural world that has experienced enough pillaging, pollution and waste.
The smartest move Gus makes once those hobgoblin questions start to gnaw at his peace of mind is to go out of his shell of self-interest and manic-obsessive career planning and start connecting with the people who live nearby – making friends, giving free of his talent and of his time, offering friendship and asking for help. The change is a bit abrupt, narrative-wise, but this novel is after all an allegory, not a true biography. What’s more, Gus is a fisherman, and we all know that the second best thing these people love is to tell stories, the more incredible and far-fetched, the better. Happy / curious Gus is a lot more enchanting than gloomy / fishing obsessed Gus. The portraits of the oddball neighbors and the funny sketches that introduce them mark a return to the more effervescent pages from the debut of the novel.
What’s changed is this deep undercurrent of spiritual thirst and social engagement that is driving Gus to further explore the limits of his understanding of the world. Some of the pages are still filled with funny anecdotes about fishing and living like a savage in the middle of nowhere, but there’s a lot of pain when Gus looks up at the clear-cut mountain tops, at the rivers blocked for fish by concrete dams or suffocated by suburban or industrial waste. The change of heart in young Gus is clearly reflected in his new rants about the smug ingratitude, the attitude that assumed the world and its creatures owed us everything we could catch, shoot, tear out, alter, plunder, devour ... and we owed the world nothing in return.
One of the key new characters introduced in this middle part of the novel is Titus, a wannabee city fisherman with an extraordinary knack for literary references. The meeting between Gus and Titus goes something like this:
“So if you’re willing to risk your life initiating me into the mysteries of fishing, the least I could do in return is introduce you to the forgotten science of philosophy. What do you say?”
I shrugged. “What have I got to lose?”
“Your unhappiness,” he said.
Human interaction can take you a long way on the path to a healthy mind and spirit, but we as modern men are also blessed with easy access to the wisdom of past ages. We have only ourselves to blame if we close our minds to the writings of these great thinkers, preferring instead to fill them with cheap escapist thrills, competitive sports, political propaganda or reality shows. Gus, under the tutelage of his new friend, is drinking deeply from this fountain of wisdom, reminded that the word philosophy translates as a love for thinking.
I soon found myself eyeing the covers of unknown books with the same sense of expectancy I felt when scrutinizing the waters of a new stream.
Almost as strong an influence as Titus is Bill Bob, the geeky little brother of our hero Gus, the only one in the family completely immune to the fishing virus. If Titus is a symbol of the life of the intellect, Bill Bob is cast as the avatar of common sense and innocence. The little boy reiterates the need for listening to the heart, for a faith in a higher purpose than the immediate needs of living day to day. Bill Bob, with his multiple and divergent hobbies, is also the best illustration of a passion for all thing living or inanimate, a burning curiosity that knows no bounds.
Closing the middle section of the novel is the third encounter that would shape the future life of fisherman Gus – the most elusive and the most alluring bait in every young man’s imagination:
I wasn’t used to looking at such things, let alone in trees, let alone fishing, let alone slender and golden-skinned and young and blond and solitary and, um – the pole.
Love comes knocking at his door, but unfortunately Gus spent most of his youth blinded by his obsession with fishing instead of honing his social skills, so this slippery eel of a girl named Eddy escapes his clutches.
The third and final part of the book returns to an introspective mood. Gus, now sustained by his new friends, nevertheless turns his eyes inwards and makes a solitary journey, similar in many ways to the myth of the Hero of a Thousand Faces described by Joseph Campbell or Mircea Eliade, towards the source of all wisdom, the hidden spring of his river WHY?
They were not much like the usual sacred signs – but fishing was hardly an orthodox faith ... And these things had been given as gifts – like rain, like rivers – unlooked for, unasked for: I had to follow the signs that I was given, as rivers follow valleys, as spring follows winter, as leaves turn and salmon spawn and geese fly south in October. I couldn’t trade the trail these images blazed for me for a straight and narrow way – not when water’s ways, meandering and free flowing, had always been my love.
Organized religion and blind faith are some of the other things that smell fishy to me and often prompt me to give such material a wide detour, but I do believe in the need for self-examination, in the need for a higher purpose in life and in finding your own individual way to salvation. David James Duncan, through the voice of Gus, surprised me a little by turning the novel into a late argument for the existence of a Biblical sort of God, but the spiritual search among the mountain tops, deep glades, clear rivers and ocean shores, in the fall of a gentle rain or in the jump of a fish out of the waves, is a clear echo of my own journey from big city to forest or mountain trail whenever I need to recharge my batteries. What I lack in articulating my passion for nature and life is the eloquence of a Gus or Duncan, who went through the valley of shadow and brought back not a message of despair but one of beauty and hope.
I awoke before dawn. The morning star was twinkling through the same opening in the cedars and the world was too wide and lovely to leave unexplored.
in another place: What I realized was that a mecca isn’t worth much if it’s not a place inside you more than a place in the world.
I am a little envious of Gus going though his moment of revelation at such a young age and coming back down from the mountain to enjoy the fruits of his spiritual quest. But I think he deserves a good break from the author, a final message that there might be a lot of pain in the world today, but there are still beautiful people around, and beautiful rivers where the salmon are still making their yearly pilgrimage against the tides of fate in order to lay the foundation for a new generation. It’s a very fragile ecosystem that needs our care and our love.
... yet while the rain fell I didn’t fish – only watched and rested, and I was lulled and cradled, caressed, and enveloped in a cool, mothering touch that washed away the wounds of summer; and my old, unmitigated longings – even the longings for fish, for Eddy, for the Friend – were changed from gnawing, aching dissatisfactions into a kind of sad, silent music, and the hollow place those longings had carved in me became a kind of sanctuary, an emptiness I grew used to, grew satisfied to leave unfilled.
>>><<<>>><<<
Bohumil Hrabal wrote somewhere that “If a book has anything to say, it burns with a quiet laugh, because any book worth its salt points up and out of itself.”
David James Duncan has wisely provided for us the clues for continuing the search by including in each chapter heading an epigram or two from his favorites writers, poets and sources of inspiration. Beside the often quoted Izaak Walton, I’ve bookmarked several references that tempt me strongly. A poem by W B Yeats: “The Song of Wandering Aengus” or a quote by W H Auden : ‘A culture is no better than its woods.’ or new authors to look up like Alice Likowski or Jim Harrison.
Of course, the other novel written by David James Duncan has also become a priority for me.
It is the best of any!
‘Tis full of pleasure, void of strife
And ’tis beloved by many.
Sometimes it’s good to go outside your comfort zone and try something completely different. I’ve never been interested in fishing, despite some close friends’ repeated invitations to come along on their trips. Turns out I’ve been a fisherman all my life and didn’t know it. Gus, the young man who is crazy about fishing in this seminal novel, is the one who opened my eyes to the deeper significance of the art. Born on the North Western coast of the US, Gus is the scion of a fishing family where the book of Izaak Walton, provider of my opening quote, is both a source of inspiration and of fiery controversy between his fly-fishing father and his bait-fishing mother.
Years before I could have put it into words, I realized that my fate would lead me beside still waters, beside rough waters, beside blue, green, muddy, clear, and salt waters. From the beginning my mind and heart were so taken up with the liquid element that nearly every other thing on the earth’s bulbous face struck me as irrelevant, distracting, a waste of my time.
The first part of the story is the bait at the end of the line with which the reader is lured to take a bite and sample the goods. And I for one was captivated: hook, line and sinker! I’ve rarely encountered such exuberance, such joy in the use of language as displayed by the account of young Gus coming into this world and of his growing up in this fantastically competitive and argumentative household. Zounds, Drat and Bother the Bleeding Fates! exclaims his upper class English father, nicknamed H2O by his scion and narrator, every time he is challenged in his purist approach to the art of fly fishing. In the opposite corner sits his mother, a local Portland redneck with an irreverent attitude and a knack for out-fishing her famous husband:
“Glum AGIN? Cheer up, boy! Always limpin’ around with a burr in yer ass! Smile, dammit!”
Later in the novel, my admiration for the humour and the language was matched by my interest in the elegance and beauty of the allegory between fishing and spiritual emancipation. What could have been a typical coming of age story of a gloomy teenager leaving the family nest and striking out on his own in the wide world, becomes under the pen of David James Duncan a major philosophical treaty about the condition of the modern man in his search for meaning. The theme is spelled out in fishing analogies all through the text, but probably the most clear resume comes in the afterword to the anniversary edition that I’ve read:
A migration I see humanity dying to make is not geographical: it’s a journey from lives governed by the head to lives governed by the heart.
Gus starts his journey by renouncing a college education in order to rent a solitary cabin in a wild part of Oregon, by the side of a salmon rich river, where he hopes to prove to his father and to his mother that he is the very best fisherman of all. By catching more fish than everybody else, Gus hopes to prove his worth in the eyes of his peers. He has a lot of native talent from his mother, a good training from his father, talent, determination, method: everything he needs to become the perfect scientific angler, the epitome of the Western ethos of Nature being there to be conquered, subdued by the daring pioneer spirit.
If the fool had only known how to swim there wouldn’t be any of this seething in my brain – this What-is-Death / What-is-Life / Why-am-I-here / What-am-I-for stuff. What use were such questions? Hobgoblins – that’s all they were – noisy abstract swill good for nothing but scaring and depressing the hell out of everybody they occurred to ...
The breaking point of this blind rush into the Guinness Book of Records for Fishing comes when the river in question, just like the young Gus mind, becomes engulfed in a deep fog. Out of this unknown space comes floating by the dead body of a fellow fisherman, prompting the arrival of the Big Questions, those hobgoblins so beloved by the Russian classic novelists. The river is asking Gus already :WHY?
But what was the difference between need and greed? How many fish could a man kill without his killing becoming wanton?
Which brings me to the third and final reason I am sure this novel will become one of my all time favorites: It doesn’t simply expose the problems faced by modern man, it honestly tries to find a better way forward, both for the individual redemption and for the fate of a finely balanced natural world that has experienced enough pillaging, pollution and waste.
The smartest move Gus makes once those hobgoblin questions start to gnaw at his peace of mind is to go out of his shell of self-interest and manic-obsessive career planning and start connecting with the people who live nearby – making friends, giving free of his talent and of his time, offering friendship and asking for help. The change is a bit abrupt, narrative-wise, but this novel is after all an allegory, not a true biography. What’s more, Gus is a fisherman, and we all know that the second best thing these people love is to tell stories, the more incredible and far-fetched, the better. Happy / curious Gus is a lot more enchanting than gloomy / fishing obsessed Gus. The portraits of the oddball neighbors and the funny sketches that introduce them mark a return to the more effervescent pages from the debut of the novel.
What’s changed is this deep undercurrent of spiritual thirst and social engagement that is driving Gus to further explore the limits of his understanding of the world. Some of the pages are still filled with funny anecdotes about fishing and living like a savage in the middle of nowhere, but there’s a lot of pain when Gus looks up at the clear-cut mountain tops, at the rivers blocked for fish by concrete dams or suffocated by suburban or industrial waste. The change of heart in young Gus is clearly reflected in his new rants about the smug ingratitude, the attitude that assumed the world and its creatures owed us everything we could catch, shoot, tear out, alter, plunder, devour ... and we owed the world nothing in return.
One of the key new characters introduced in this middle part of the novel is Titus, a wannabee city fisherman with an extraordinary knack for literary references. The meeting between Gus and Titus goes something like this:
“So if you’re willing to risk your life initiating me into the mysteries of fishing, the least I could do in return is introduce you to the forgotten science of philosophy. What do you say?”
I shrugged. “What have I got to lose?”
“Your unhappiness,” he said.
Human interaction can take you a long way on the path to a healthy mind and spirit, but we as modern men are also blessed with easy access to the wisdom of past ages. We have only ourselves to blame if we close our minds to the writings of these great thinkers, preferring instead to fill them with cheap escapist thrills, competitive sports, political propaganda or reality shows. Gus, under the tutelage of his new friend, is drinking deeply from this fountain of wisdom, reminded that the word philosophy translates as a love for thinking.
I soon found myself eyeing the covers of unknown books with the same sense of expectancy I felt when scrutinizing the waters of a new stream.
Almost as strong an influence as Titus is Bill Bob, the geeky little brother of our hero Gus, the only one in the family completely immune to the fishing virus. If Titus is a symbol of the life of the intellect, Bill Bob is cast as the avatar of common sense and innocence. The little boy reiterates the need for listening to the heart, for a faith in a higher purpose than the immediate needs of living day to day. Bill Bob, with his multiple and divergent hobbies, is also the best illustration of a passion for all thing living or inanimate, a burning curiosity that knows no bounds.
Closing the middle section of the novel is the third encounter that would shape the future life of fisherman Gus – the most elusive and the most alluring bait in every young man’s imagination:
I wasn’t used to looking at such things, let alone in trees, let alone fishing, let alone slender and golden-skinned and young and blond and solitary and, um – the pole.
Love comes knocking at his door, but unfortunately Gus spent most of his youth blinded by his obsession with fishing instead of honing his social skills, so this slippery eel of a girl named Eddy escapes his clutches.
The third and final part of the book returns to an introspective mood. Gus, now sustained by his new friends, nevertheless turns his eyes inwards and makes a solitary journey, similar in many ways to the myth of the Hero of a Thousand Faces described by Joseph Campbell or Mircea Eliade, towards the source of all wisdom, the hidden spring of his river WHY?
They were not much like the usual sacred signs – but fishing was hardly an orthodox faith ... And these things had been given as gifts – like rain, like rivers – unlooked for, unasked for: I had to follow the signs that I was given, as rivers follow valleys, as spring follows winter, as leaves turn and salmon spawn and geese fly south in October. I couldn’t trade the trail these images blazed for me for a straight and narrow way – not when water’s ways, meandering and free flowing, had always been my love.
Organized religion and blind faith are some of the other things that smell fishy to me and often prompt me to give such material a wide detour, but I do believe in the need for self-examination, in the need for a higher purpose in life and in finding your own individual way to salvation. David James Duncan, through the voice of Gus, surprised me a little by turning the novel into a late argument for the existence of a Biblical sort of God, but the spiritual search among the mountain tops, deep glades, clear rivers and ocean shores, in the fall of a gentle rain or in the jump of a fish out of the waves, is a clear echo of my own journey from big city to forest or mountain trail whenever I need to recharge my batteries. What I lack in articulating my passion for nature and life is the eloquence of a Gus or Duncan, who went through the valley of shadow and brought back not a message of despair but one of beauty and hope.
I awoke before dawn. The morning star was twinkling through the same opening in the cedars and the world was too wide and lovely to leave unexplored.
in another place: What I realized was that a mecca isn’t worth much if it’s not a place inside you more than a place in the world.
I am a little envious of Gus going though his moment of revelation at such a young age and coming back down from the mountain to enjoy the fruits of his spiritual quest. But I think he deserves a good break from the author, a final message that there might be a lot of pain in the world today, but there are still beautiful people around, and beautiful rivers where the salmon are still making their yearly pilgrimage against the tides of fate in order to lay the foundation for a new generation. It’s a very fragile ecosystem that needs our care and our love.
... yet while the rain fell I didn’t fish – only watched and rested, and I was lulled and cradled, caressed, and enveloped in a cool, mothering touch that washed away the wounds of summer; and my old, unmitigated longings – even the longings for fish, for Eddy, for the Friend – were changed from gnawing, aching dissatisfactions into a kind of sad, silent music, and the hollow place those longings had carved in me became a kind of sanctuary, an emptiness I grew used to, grew satisfied to leave unfilled.
>>><<<>>><<<
Bohumil Hrabal wrote somewhere that “If a book has anything to say, it burns with a quiet laugh, because any book worth its salt points up and out of itself.”
David James Duncan has wisely provided for us the clues for continuing the search by including in each chapter heading an epigram or two from his favorites writers, poets and sources of inspiration. Beside the often quoted Izaak Walton, I’ve bookmarked several references that tempt me strongly. A poem by W B Yeats: “The Song of Wandering Aengus” or a quote by W H Auden : ‘A culture is no better than its woods.’ or new authors to look up like Alice Likowski or Jim Harrison.
Of course, the other novel written by David James Duncan has also become a priority for me.
July 9, 2019
Some books you just read.
Some books draw you in.
Some books read you-- and in the process lay you out, naked and utterly absorbed in every sensation and feeling as though you were just born.
Welcome to The River Why.
I never thought of fishing and philosophy as a duo. I don't even particularly care that much about fishing (despite having done so with my grandfather when I was a little girl).
But Duncan has created a story so rich in thought and depth, that even the technicalities of fly making, casting, rod building, and water reading are irresistible.
And with characters so real, they jumped off the page and sat in the room with me while I read.
And humor that had me laughing aloud so often that those around me probably questioned my sanity.
It has been a long time since I was actually hesitant to pick up a book and begin reading again-- because it never failed to pull me in ... yet I never wanted the book to end.
Rich, beautiful, poetic, smart, funny.
I will need a few days to process and bask before cracking open the cover on anything else now.
Some books draw you in.
Some books read you-- and in the process lay you out, naked and utterly absorbed in every sensation and feeling as though you were just born.
Welcome to The River Why.
I never thought of fishing and philosophy as a duo. I don't even particularly care that much about fishing (despite having done so with my grandfather when I was a little girl).
But Duncan has created a story so rich in thought and depth, that even the technicalities of fly making, casting, rod building, and water reading are irresistible.
And with characters so real, they jumped off the page and sat in the room with me while I read.
And humor that had me laughing aloud so often that those around me probably questioned my sanity.
It has been a long time since I was actually hesitant to pick up a book and begin reading again-- because it never failed to pull me in ... yet I never wanted the book to end.
Rich, beautiful, poetic, smart, funny.
I will need a few days to process and bask before cracking open the cover on anything else now.
Read
June 10, 2007I am two parts surprised to one part in love with this book. There's no denying that it is a coming of age story about a quiet analyical fisherman who finds his own peace and place in the world by developing his own agnostic religion. And boy does he fish a lot! Boor--ring. So what compelled me to tear through this novel at my desk, and cramped on a kitchen table, and sneak peeks on the bus? The narrator is a doll. I've never met a person like him yet major aspects of his character run through some of my favorite people. He matures into a young man that I would like to sit next to on an 8 hour bus ride. I'd introduce him to my single friends. He could sleep on my couch anytime.
July 6, 2013
There is a good book hidden inside The River Why, though I couldn't call it a good book. It's a bit of a mess, all over the map. In the afterword the author says some publishers wanted to whittle it down. Sometimes the publishers are right! Some parts are really funny, namely the sections about his parents and upbringing. I really liked the romance, even though it seemed like the unrealistic fantasy of a fly-fishing teenager (or immature adult like yours truly). I can assure you that few fly-fishermen are women, and among those there are probably not a large number who are twenty, look like a centerfold, and angle in the buff. That is why we have fiction, I suppose: to dream.
The characters of Titus and Bill-Bob should probably have been eliminated entirely. Dialogue between Gus and Titus is risible. Many of the long asides about philosophy grow rapidly tiresome. "A River Runs Through It" is philosophical, but not tiresome. I'm pretty sure it is the only decent novel about fly-fishing, but at least there is one. (And some short stories and chapters within Hemingway's oeuvre.)
Do not watch the movie. It is an even bigger mess than the novel. If Eddy's angling scenes had been a little less PG-rated, it might have redeemed itself the slightest bit.
The characters of Titus and Bill-Bob should probably have been eliminated entirely. Dialogue between Gus and Titus is risible. Many of the long asides about philosophy grow rapidly tiresome. "A River Runs Through It" is philosophical, but not tiresome. I'm pretty sure it is the only decent novel about fly-fishing, but at least there is one. (And some short stories and chapters within Hemingway's oeuvre.)
Do not watch the movie. It is an even bigger mess than the novel. If Eddy's angling scenes had been a little less PG-rated, it might have redeemed itself the slightest bit.
January 17, 2013
I tried really hard to love this book, but couldn't. I kept hoping it would grab me. Generally I find books whose authors respect and revere the natural world, who write knowledgeably and often beautifully about it, and whose characters struggle with existential questions to be immensely satisfying and engaging, so I think I understand why others count this as a 5 star favorite. My reaction was much the same as the editors who rejected it and who Duncan described in the Afterward he wrote for the 20th anniversary edition. It was too long with too much exposition. Maybe if I were a fisher the, for me, tediously long descriptions of fishing for this or that kind of fish with this or that kind of equipment and technique would have captured me. But they didn't they just muddied the waters so to speak. I don't want to discourage anyone from reading The River Why. I certainly am glad I did. I just wish I had enjoyed it more.
July 26, 2007
This novel tells the story of young fishing prodigy Gus Orviston and his madcap, fishing-obsessed family. After graduating from high school, Gus leaves home so he can be free of distractions and devote himself entirely to fishing. In the process and despite himself, Gus comes to discover the joys of community, romantic love, and eventually, God.
It’s hard for me to express just how much I love this book. One of the biggest reasons why is because it’s laugh-out-loud hysterical. There are just not very many books dealing with spiritual matters that are so fantastically funny. But this one probably makes up for the lack of many others. Go. Read it now. You’ll thank me, I swear.
It’s hard for me to express just how much I love this book. One of the biggest reasons why is because it’s laugh-out-loud hysterical. There are just not very many books dealing with spiritual matters that are so fantastically funny. But this one probably makes up for the lack of many others. Go. Read it now. You’ll thank me, I swear.
September 25, 2008
Brilliant book. I've read this so many times, and recommended/bought copies for so many friends, I've lost count. A deeply moving, hysterically funny, perceptive, spiritual story of one man figuring out the "why" of it all.
June 11, 2023
Ecology was explained before ecology was a thing. Mixed with youthful love and fun. There is a long scene where the narrator figures out how to catch an uncatchable fish by dressing up as a disgusting, littering garish picnicker. And he becomes heartbroken when he catches the fish, because he realizes how wrong that was.
March 21, 2013
God (or religion, spirituality, the One, etc) can be found anywhere and should be a product of your own idiosyncratic life experiences. Gus, the narrator/fisher hero of The River Why, finds his God among the river. The line of light. Prying himself away from toxic relationship with his family, Gus endeavors an "ideal" life along the river Why somewhere near Oregon. Through isolation from others and a total fixation on his singular passion, fishing, Gus pursues his notion of the perfect life, but he is quickly disillusioned. A life solo, and circumstances forced upon Gus unwittingly, cause the narrator/fisher hero to reevaluate what it means to live a good life, and forces him to reinterpret his life and relations prior to the river Why.
I've heard this called a "coming of age story", but doing so pigeonholes this novel and colors the expectations of would-be readers. This is much, much more than a mere recapitulation of a boyhood maturing. This book tells the story of a boy who begins to truly understand himself, and the reader inevitably reflects upon the same thoughts and understand hirself better too.
Normally I am capable of reviewing a novel in detail and condensing a summary easily, but the scope and power of this novel are too profound to offhandedly comment upon. I'll update this review over the weekend, since I cannot do it justice at present, but I'd like to inform any (hypothetical) reader in the present that this was the best and most significant work I've read in a very long time. Not a single page was dull, dozens of pages were read without even noticing the page numbers, and I had to force myself to ration my reading so that I could wake up for work in the morning in a pseudo-conscious state. I'm simultaneously upset that I cannot write much more on this novel than present, and dumbfounded at how much I want to convey.
I've heard this called a "coming of age story", but doing so pigeonholes this novel and colors the expectations of would-be readers. This is much, much more than a mere recapitulation of a boyhood maturing. This book tells the story of a boy who begins to truly understand himself, and the reader inevitably reflects upon the same thoughts and understand hirself better too.
Normally I am capable of reviewing a novel in detail and condensing a summary easily, but the scope and power of this novel are too profound to offhandedly comment upon. I'll update this review over the weekend, since I cannot do it justice at present, but I'd like to inform any (hypothetical) reader in the present that this was the best and most significant work I've read in a very long time. Not a single page was dull, dozens of pages were read without even noticing the page numbers, and I had to force myself to ration my reading so that I could wake up for work in the morning in a pseudo-conscious state. I'm simultaneously upset that I cannot write much more on this novel than present, and dumbfounded at how much I want to convey.
July 24, 2013
I have really mixed feelings about this book. I keep going back and forth between giving it 3 stars and giving it 4 (yes, I know, it's super important and I should anguish over getting it right). I guess I've settled on 4 for now. I loved a lot of this book. But, there was something strange about it, like, some things didn't seem to "fit" with the rest of the feel of the book. For example, the majority of the characters other than Gus were very exaggerated and cartoonish. So much so that the last chapter (which I think felt like an afterthought and didn't need to be there), when he talks about Vietnam, it caught me off-guard because the majority of the characters were so silly that I forgot this all was supposed to be taking place in the real world in an actual time period.
I liked Gus a lot and really loved his existential musings throughout the book. I like David James Duncan's writing, for the most part (I loved the Brothers K and highly recommend it), but parts of this book became tedious to read for me. At times I wanted to scream "OMG I GET THE POINT!"
still worth a read, though, my opinion. my copy refers to itself as the "unabridged" which leads me to believe there is an abridged version which sounds perfect.
last note: if you're only going to read one book about philosophy and fishing, read A River Runs Through It.
I liked Gus a lot and really loved his existential musings throughout the book. I like David James Duncan's writing, for the most part (I loved the Brothers K and highly recommend it), but parts of this book became tedious to read for me. At times I wanted to scream "OMG I GET THE POINT!"
still worth a read, though, my opinion. my copy refers to itself as the "unabridged" which leads me to believe there is an abridged version which sounds perfect.
last note: if you're only going to read one book about philosophy and fishing, read A River Runs Through It.
September 18, 2017
They say you don't have to love fishing to enjoy this book. They're wrong.
May 18, 2024
Plutôt un 2,5/5 🐟🚣🏽♀️⛵️
On suit la vie de Gus Orviston enfant d’un couple de passionné de pêche. Le père ne jurant que par la sacro-sainte pêche à la mouche tandis que la mère utilise plutôt les appâts en vers de terre…
Il décide un beau jour de quitter le nid familial pour s’isoler dans une cabane au bord d’un lac et de performer et sublimer son art de la pêche.
Mais son isolement ne marquera finalement que le début de ses rencontres et réflexions.
C’est étonnant car hormis des passages longuets sur la pêche, il faut dire que je complément hermétique à ce sport, tout se lit extrêmement bien.
Oui mais voilà, ça n’a pas opéré sur moi. Je n’arrive pas à me prononcer.
Je n’ai pas aimé et je n’ai pas détesté. Je l’ai lu! Tout simplement 🤷🏼♂️
J’ai vraiment beaucoup aimé la première partie dans la famille loufoque (me rappelant la Famille Delajungle pour celles et ceux qui ont la ref’) avec un big love pour le personnage de BillBob. Par contre j’ai souffert à la partie philisophico-religieuse étirée au possible en milieu du livre avec tous ses questionnements.
Vous cherchez de l’aventure, passez votre chemin… sauf si vous aimez l’aventure intérieure et l’introspective.
Un roman d’apprentissage au ton cinglant, caustique et avec de grandes réflexions sur le sens de la vie mais qui s’oubliera vite je pense.
On suit la vie de Gus Orviston enfant d’un couple de passionné de pêche. Le père ne jurant que par la sacro-sainte pêche à la mouche tandis que la mère utilise plutôt les appâts en vers de terre…
Il décide un beau jour de quitter le nid familial pour s’isoler dans une cabane au bord d’un lac et de performer et sublimer son art de la pêche.
Mais son isolement ne marquera finalement que le début de ses rencontres et réflexions.
C’est étonnant car hormis des passages longuets sur la pêche, il faut dire que je complément hermétique à ce sport, tout se lit extrêmement bien.
Oui mais voilà, ça n’a pas opéré sur moi. Je n’arrive pas à me prononcer.
Je n’ai pas aimé et je n’ai pas détesté. Je l’ai lu! Tout simplement 🤷🏼♂️
J’ai vraiment beaucoup aimé la première partie dans la famille loufoque (me rappelant la Famille Delajungle pour celles et ceux qui ont la ref’) avec un big love pour le personnage de BillBob. Par contre j’ai souffert à la partie philisophico-religieuse étirée au possible en milieu du livre avec tous ses questionnements.
Vous cherchez de l’aventure, passez votre chemin… sauf si vous aimez l’aventure intérieure et l’introspective.
Un roman d’apprentissage au ton cinglant, caustique et avec de grandes réflexions sur le sens de la vie mais qui s’oubliera vite je pense.
May 19, 2018
This book is about a young man trying to find his way and place in the world. He lives and breaths fishing. It’s all he wants to do, until he realizes it isn’t. This book is more about finding meaning in things and one’s connection to nature, than a fishing book. It at times was a little too wordy and philosophical than I typically care for (I often found my mind wandering or my eyes getting heavy at the end of the day); but at times I was laughing so loud as well. I enjoyed this book, but not as much as the author’s other, “The Brothers K” (which was a 5 star for me). This one gets 3.5, rounded to 4.
May 19, 2024
Je ne sais pas trop comment juger ce livre.
Il y a quelques passages intéressants mais c'est beaucoup trop long pour ce que l'auteur avait en tête.
Je retiendrai surtout les problèmes de longueurs, l'absence d'histoire, une petite romance digne d'un fantasme d'ado et des longs passages sur la religion et la philosophie.
Il y a quelques passages intéressants mais c'est beaucoup trop long pour ce que l'auteur avait en tête.
Je retiendrai surtout les problèmes de longueurs, l'absence d'histoire, une petite romance digne d'un fantasme d'ado et des longs passages sur la religion et la philosophie.
February 19, 2017
Well. You don't have to be a fisherman to like this, but you do have to put up with a lot of schmaltzy philosophy and pseudo-spirituality. I finished it because I liked the writing itself; it's often lovely. But Gus is annoying, his friends odd, and the quest much too long. I felt like I was slogging upstream in waders over the three nights it took to read this (I kept falling asleep....)
Still, some bits do kinda-sorta appeal:
In praise of his Ma, who claims to have 'dumb luck,' Gus says, "I think 'educated luck' is closer to the mark; I think by the time her native intelligence gets through with it, Ma's luck has a PhD."
Gus also ponders that, "Thoughts are like starlings. They usually come in flocks; they can sing, but would just as soon chatter; they can fly, but would just as soon walk; they're English exports, but thrive almost anywhere." [punctuation adapted]
"I saw seven ravens, flapping toward the sun singing Cro-awk, Cro-awk, trying to look portentious and mythical but coming off kind of scruffy-headed and up to no good."
Still, some bits do kinda-sorta appeal:
In praise of his Ma, who claims to have 'dumb luck,' Gus says, "I think 'educated luck' is closer to the mark; I think by the time her native intelligence gets through with it, Ma's luck has a PhD."
Gus also ponders that, "Thoughts are like starlings. They usually come in flocks; they can sing, but would just as soon chatter; they can fly, but would just as soon walk; they're English exports, but thrive almost anywhere." [punctuation adapted]
"I saw seven ravens, flapping toward the sun singing Cro-awk, Cro-awk, trying to look portentious and mythical but coming off kind of scruffy-headed and up to no good."
May 2, 2008
I know beans about fly-fishing, and as a kid I grew to hate fishing because of early morning forays with my father and one of his brothers wherein I worked at cutting bait, cleaning fish, and other cold, unpleasant tasks. This is a great novel even though it looks like it's about fishing. It's a love story, a story of the struggle with God, and a conservationist story. Read it, read it, read it!
October 7, 2020
A book about life through the eyes of a fisherman, I thought the writing style was similar to that of Tom Robbins in Jitterbug Perfume.
August 16, 2023
About a man who fishes and philosophizes, and finds a girlfriend and God. Was very much into all the descriptions of nature and metaphors of spirituality to water. I wasn’t into the love story, although a major point of the book is you can’t understand being in love unless you’re in love. A good counter argument though is not being in love hasn’t stopped me from liking any other romance book, so maybe this love story really is just lackluster. I wish being in a love wasn’t a necessary step for the main character to find God, I think it would have been much more powerful for him to understand God on his own. I also wanted to see Gus struggle through trials after his spiritual revelation to see how his beliefs changed in light of tragedy. I feel like The Brothers K accomplished exactly what I felt was missing from this book, and delivered the same themes but much stronger. Overall though it was an interesting read despite my complete lack of interest in fishing. I was also very much surprised by how funny it was! This is basically a comedic, philosophical fishing story which I absolutely wouldn’t have ever read if it was by any other author. I truly hope David James Duncan puts out another novel!
September 29, 2009
I have never been that interested in fishing, and this book makes me want to fish! It's so clever...funny, (the opening paragraph had me laughing) and enlightening. Gus, the main character grows up fishing, in this crazy, fishing-obsessed, little family, and then he strikes out on his own, comes to know himself and what's really, most important to him.
Towards the end of the book, I read this passage, and then re-read it and re-read at least ten times...
"Dawn came up behind the hills, extending her old fingertips of rose. I plodded on toward the outstretched fingers and the glimmering continued; fish-bites, birth pangs, I didn't know what they were. But the further I walked, the less I cared. It was enough to feel them.
I trudged on, helpless to catch hold of things, but hopeful. And when the first sunlight lit upon the tallest ridge's highest vineleaf maple, when the rosy fingers faded into blue behind the mountain, when the vineleaf's leaves shone out in scarred and blazing scarlet atop that wave-like ridge of dull alder gold a chill shot from my thighs to the top of my head, surged up on my backbone, again and again--for in that moment I felt as though an oldest, greatest, longest-lost Friend had come to walk the road, unseen beside me..."
Towards the end of the book, I read this passage, and then re-read it and re-read at least ten times...
"Dawn came up behind the hills, extending her old fingertips of rose. I plodded on toward the outstretched fingers and the glimmering continued; fish-bites, birth pangs, I didn't know what they were. But the further I walked, the less I cared. It was enough to feel them.
I trudged on, helpless to catch hold of things, but hopeful. And when the first sunlight lit upon the tallest ridge's highest vineleaf maple, when the rosy fingers faded into blue behind the mountain, when the vineleaf's leaves shone out in scarred and blazing scarlet atop that wave-like ridge of dull alder gold a chill shot from my thighs to the top of my head, surged up on my backbone, again and again--for in that moment I felt as though an oldest, greatest, longest-lost Friend had come to walk the road, unseen beside me..."
April 18, 2013
I first read this novel in April 2004. I chose to re-read it during the past week while I was on a military mission outside of the continental US. During a long flight and in the evenings following very long tiring days of stressful work, I re-read one of my all-time favorite works of fiction. This novel is not just about fishing (although it helps to be a fisherman and understand the allure of the pastime) but about finding balance in life, finding one's heart and a connection to a Higher Power, of human relationships, and about stewardship (of the earth and humanity). The book inspires me to find joy in little things, in service, in love, in standing for what is true and precious and lasting. I recommend this book to anyone, even if you don't like fishing. If you have never fished and want to try it, I am always available.
January 31, 2021
The river runs deep for this fisherman. The story of angler Gus Orviston's search for meaning reads like a combination of coming-of-age drama, mythology, philosophy, humor, and even a romance. Each chapter is prefaced with a few lines of esoteric poetry. Themes of humans' relationships to Nature and the God question enter into this entertaining novel.
Gus Orviston's story begins with his total dedication to fishing, a birthright, it seems, since his Ma is an earthy fisherwoman who uses bait, and his dad a refined fly fisherman and author. But Gus wants to do it his own way and leaves home for the life of a hermit fisherman somewhere along the coast range watershed of Oregon. His seclusion leads to restless unhappiness but he is saved by key people in his life: his non-fishing kid brother Bill Bob, a drowned fisherman named Abe, a philosopher who dialogs with his mastiff-size mongrel, and a man named Nick who comes to Gus for lessons in fly-tying.
Gus's search for meaning takes him to the source of the Tamanawis River (not its real name) where he fishes, a longing for a beautiful girl named Eddy whose fishing style is her own, and to riverside neighbors who befriend him.
The author writes beautifully about children and scenes in Nature. All characters in this book have distinct identities, but one of my favorites is Gus's little brother, Bill Bob, who is interested in all things except water and fishing and whose imaginative philosophies help Gus restart his life. Other touching childhood scenes take place with two young neighbors, Rama and Hemingway.
Besides the fishing episodes that run through this book, the author provides insights into the characteristics and even personalities of a few star fish. Two are named pets that Gus has rescued from the river. And others are heroic salmon who have their way with fishermen and those who conquer all odds to return to the waters of their birth.
There are hilarious and original scenes that can cause outright laughter. Little brother Bill Bob is included in many of these. And there is a scene after Gus's transformation to sociability where he is acclaimed as the hero among all fishermen by the mischievous and unruly neighbor kids.
The ending is beyond happy and is as full of surprises as the "Why" in the river.
Gus Orviston's story begins with his total dedication to fishing, a birthright, it seems, since his Ma is an earthy fisherwoman who uses bait, and his dad a refined fly fisherman and author. But Gus wants to do it his own way and leaves home for the life of a hermit fisherman somewhere along the coast range watershed of Oregon. His seclusion leads to restless unhappiness but he is saved by key people in his life: his non-fishing kid brother Bill Bob, a drowned fisherman named Abe, a philosopher who dialogs with his mastiff-size mongrel, and a man named Nick who comes to Gus for lessons in fly-tying.
Gus's search for meaning takes him to the source of the Tamanawis River (not its real name) where he fishes, a longing for a beautiful girl named Eddy whose fishing style is her own, and to riverside neighbors who befriend him.
The author writes beautifully about children and scenes in Nature. All characters in this book have distinct identities, but one of my favorites is Gus's little brother, Bill Bob, who is interested in all things except water and fishing and whose imaginative philosophies help Gus restart his life. Other touching childhood scenes take place with two young neighbors, Rama and Hemingway.
Besides the fishing episodes that run through this book, the author provides insights into the characteristics and even personalities of a few star fish. Two are named pets that Gus has rescued from the river. And others are heroic salmon who have their way with fishermen and those who conquer all odds to return to the waters of their birth.
There are hilarious and original scenes that can cause outright laughter. Little brother Bill Bob is included in many of these. And there is a scene after Gus's transformation to sociability where he is acclaimed as the hero among all fishermen by the mischievous and unruly neighbor kids.
The ending is beyond happy and is as full of surprises as the "Why" in the river.
August 18, 2021
2nd time around...still just as good
May 18, 2022
This book was so good that it's in my top 10 of all time, and it's about fishing. I don't even fish!
I feel like David James Duncan uses the English language the way a baseball player uses a bat. Anybody can swing a bat, but a baseball player knows how to do something special with it.
Anyone watching a baseball player, or anyone reading David James Duncan, can perceive the art in front of them, but if they pick up the bat or a pen and try to replicate the artistry, they will surely strike out. Perhaps literally.
I feel like David James Duncan uses the English language the way a baseball player uses a bat. Anybody can swing a bat, but a baseball player knows how to do something special with it.
Anyone watching a baseball player, or anyone reading David James Duncan, can perceive the art in front of them, but if they pick up the bat or a pen and try to replicate the artistry, they will surely strike out. Perhaps literally.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 1,092 reviews