Or perhaps a modern craftsman? Reams? Thramer? Beasley? Shays? Raine?

Not exactly:

We ask you: Do McGuane or Gierach have one of these?

Yes, my furred friends, the Underground now possesses what few others do: a bamboo keyboard (and a powerful attitude about it).

Clearly – and as fly fishermen everywhere know – bamboo transforms you into a better fly fisherman typist unbearable snob writer.

Do McGuane, Leeson or Gierach have one of these? Are their words flowing organically from its smooth, limber, almost sensuous keys? Or are they stuck writing on stiff, unyielding, too-fast, unnatural synthetic keyboards, their sentences short, quick, efficient – but lacking connection to the primal life force that beats within all of us?

Are they – to put it bluntly – simply muddling by on sheer talent?

Sure, plastic keyboards are great at pumping out words all fast and easy. And yeah, they’re light, so you can type on them all day. But for the sheer joy of writing, nothing compares to bamboo, and if you doubt that for even a second, I can scare up a couple hundred people who will state – in definitive terms (some using physics diagrams as a visual aid) – that bamboo users simply write better.

Emboldened by the varnished, straight-grained goodness beneath my fingers, I’m going a step further, suggesting I might even be better human being than the huddled plastic masses, most of whom probably deserve the carpal tunnel they’re developing from their synthetic keyboards.

Clearly, the scales have simultaneously fallen from my eyes and tipped in my favor. (See what I did there? The bamboo’s already working its magic.)

One day, the world will look back at this moment with reverence, correctly seeing it as a turning point in the literature of fly fishing the world, when the most organic, smooth, flowing writer the world universe had ever seen typed the immortal words:

“It was a dark and stormy morning on the river.”

– John Gierach, Fool’s Paradise

With sixteen fly fishing books to his credit – all of which have been continuously in print since their release – John Gierach might just be fly fishing’s most-read writer.

Twenty years have passed since the publication of Gierach’s eponymous Trout Bum — a book that remains the favorite of many Gierach fans — and while Gierach’s perspective has evolved, his style remains recognizably (and comfortably) his own.

In his newest book — Fool’s Paradise — Gierach’s facility for one-liners and wry observation from outside the mainstream remain undiminished, and he combines the two frequently:

“I’m still waiting for Americans to realize that being in constant communication is not an advantage, but a short leash. Cell phones have changed us from a nation of self-reliant pioneer types into a bunch of men standing alone in supermarkets saying ‘Okay, I’m in the the tampon aisle, but I don’t see it.’”

Later — at the start of one of my favorite chapters in the book (“Creeks”) — Gierach does it again with:

“While killing time in a Starbucks in Portland, Oregon, not long ago, I was idly eavesdropping on two businessmen when one — invoking the tired cliche — said that their problems might be solved if they could start thinking outside the box. The other, younger man replied, ‘Dude, there’s no box.’”

Some fans might be shocked to hear that Gierach spent time in a Starbucks, or that he’s softening his stance on bamboo rods to the point that he fished a graphite rod all week long on another road trip:

“So one afternoon I was happily casting a foam stonefly pattern on a graphite rod when our guide said, ‘You know, if this gets out, you could lose your charter membership in the Old Farts’ Club.’”

Of course, revealing snapshots of your life to strangers comes at a cost; our view of Gierach is partially one of a writer who existed 20 years ago, and in the meantime, Gierach has moved along in his life, and frankly, that’s part of the allure of reading his newer books.

I mean, exactly what is happening with AK, Mike Clark, Ed Engle and the rest of the gang?

I’m tempted to suggest the “theme” of Fool’s Paradise revolves around the concept of change, and I could back it up with a lot of carefully selected passages, but in truth, that’s the kind of thing a critic says out loud while an author scratches his head and wonders what book the guy was reading.

Still, Gierach’s recent books (Fool’s Paradise is his first in three years) recognize the fact he’s not 30 any more, and in places, he does what you’d expect anyone approaching 60 might do; he looks back on his life.

To Gierach’s credit, he does so with a sense of wonder:

“This is how time occasionally works. One minute you’re a thirteen-year-old drowning worms for bluegills because muskies are among the countless things that are out of your league; the next minute you’re a decently preserved fifty-eight and finally landing a muskie. Surely all kinds of things have happened in between, but at the moment, you can’t remember any of them.”

On a fishing trip to the Fryingpan River with Jim Babb, Gierach cops to the changes that have occurred since he became a trout bum, though he also recognizes the dangers of relying on his own memory:

“One afternoon between hatches, I even started in on how the fish used to be bigger here but lost steam after I saw Jim’s skeptical glance. It does seem true, but then over the years we’ve drifted away from the shoulder-to-shoulder hog holes up under the dam (the most famous one is known as the ‘the Toilet Bowl’) into lesser, but also less crowded, water downstream that we’ve since come to know and love. And when I go back over old photos and see that the Fryingpan fish don’t seem as big as I remember, it’s not entirely reasonable to assume that all the snapshots of the really big trout must have gotten lost.

“Jim listened to all this politely, understanding that the old-timer’s litany we all grew up hearing becomes irresistible once you realize that the list of things that just aren’t the same anymore will soon include you — if it doesn’t already.”

One thing that hasn’t changed is Gierach’s wholly readable style. I’ve often said he’s a deceptive writer; he folds keen observation and surprising insight into essays so readable that you arrive at the “a-ha!” moment without realizing he’s been herding you that way the last four pages.

Fool’s Paradise will no doubt be snapped up by Gierach’s faithful.

Those looking for fly fishing instruction will be disappointed, though anyone looking for insight into the fly fishing life — without the trappings of ego that cloud the writings of so many others — will find this is a typically enjoyable (and re-readable) collection of essays.

[Note: You can find the dates & locations of Gierach's book tour here]

Technorati Tags: john gierach,gierach,fools paradise,trout bum,book review

If you’re one of the lucky few who lives near the right city (the tour touches down in Colorado, Oregon and Washington, with a trip to Orvis in Vermont), then consider making plans to see fly fishing’s most popular writer.

It seems like a lifetime’s passed since I first read Gierach’s Trout Bum (late 1980s), and in one sense, it was a lifetime ago.

Back then, I lived in the kill-or-be-killed Silicon Valley, and today I live minutes from good trout water in a sparsely populated rural county.

I won’t pretend Gierach’s wholly responsible, but yeah, his books did suggest there was an alternative to slowly growing heavier, angrier and more desperate in the grip of "civilization," and though I didn’t make a play for the whole trout bum lifestyle, I worked things out well enough to get a little chunk of it.

My favorite Gierach book? The answer varies almost hourly, but I seem to keep returning to Even Brook Trout Gets the Blues, mostly for the title essay.

What about the Undergrounders? Can you pick a favorite Gierach title?

See you at the bookshelves, Tom Chandler.