by Richard Brautigan
This is a surreal little novel, as are most of Brautigan's works. And like most, there is a healthy level of autobiographical experience in it. Here, Brautigan uses the imagery of trout fishing to remenisce about the past and an ornate present. It is this ornate present that seems so compelling. There is a reality in late beat generation San Francisco, and then there's an undercurrent of dreams, fantasies, dark forebodings, and death. This book is less cheerful than some of his other books, and it is often very confusing. However, there is a poetic beauty to the world Brautigan creates, a place worthy of a visit, a place of obsessive dreams of beauty, love and loss.
Also by Brautigan: [Willard and his Bowling Trophies]
See also: [You Can't Catch Death by Ianthe Brautigan]