Look a Book: A Master of American Black Absurdism

Trout Fishing in America
by Richard Brautigan

You can go 37 years of life, bereft of that certain nugget of knowledge. Then, one day, you discover it and realise that it’s been there all along. Here, there and everywhere.

Richard Brautigan is that certain nugget of knowledge.

I'm not the kind of person that laughs out loud when reading. Nor do I naturally guffaw at films or comedy shows. It takes a lot for 'entertainment' to tickle my funny bone. I've thoroughly enjoyed many books without having the foggiest that their intention was humour. Reading the 'back cover' afterwards can present a surprise or two.

'Trout Fishing in America' made me laugh, several times, audibly.

Brautigan's descriptive passages shine with such outstanding brilliance, that at times I paused in absolute awe.

I should add a spoiler alert here, but this is the kind of book that you can dip into at any point, and not ruin supper.

Here’s a wee taster for you:

TROUT FISHING ON THE BEVEL

The two graveyards were next to each other on small hills and between them flowed Graveyard Creek, a slow-moving, funeral-procession-on-a-hot-day creek with a lot of fine trout in it.

And the dead didn't mind me fishing there at all.

One graveyard had tall fir trees growing in it, and the grass was kept Peter Pan green all year round by pumping water up from the creek, and the graveyard had fine marble headstones and statues and tombs.

The other graveyard was for the poor and it had no trees and the grass turned a flat-tire brown in the summer and stayed that way until the rain, like a mechanic, began in the late autumn.

There were no fancy headstones for the poor dead. Their markers were small boards that looked like heels of stale bread:

      Devoted Slob Father Of

      Beloved Worked-to-Death Mother Of

On some of the graves were fruit jars and tin cans with wilted flowers in them:

      Sacred

      To the Memory

      of John Talbot

      Who at the Age of Eighteen

      Had His Ass Shot Off In a Honky-Tonk

      November 1, 1936

      This Mayonnaise Jar

      With Wilted Flowers In It

      Was Left Here Six Months Ago By His Sister

      Who Is In

      The Crazy Place Now.

Eventually the seasons would take care of their wooden names like a sleepy short-order cook cracking eggs over a grill next to a railroad station. Whereas the well-to-do would have their names for a long time written on marble hers d'oeuvres like horses trotting up the fancy paths to the sky.

I fished Graveyard Creek in the dusk when the hatch was on and worked some good trout out of there. Only the poverty of the dead bothered me.

Once, while cleaning the trout before I went home in the almost night, I had a vision of going over to the poor graveyard and gathering up grass and fruit jars and tin cans and markers and wilted flowers and bugs and weeds and clods and going home and putting a hook in the vice and tying a fly with all that stuff and then going outside and casting it up into the sky, watching it float over clouds and then into the evening star.


Other favourite chapters are: On Paradise and The Cabinet of Doctor Caligari, Terrorists and the letters to and from Trout Fishing in America. They are all available to read online.

Only today, did I discover that in 1984, at the age of 49, Richard Brautigan shot himself in the head. His body was found six weeks later. I am not knowingly attracted to artists that commit suicide or are destined to do so, but there seems to be a running theme.

Fabpants Recommends: When I said Brautigan is everywhere, I meant it. He has already been in this blog, courtesy of this song:

Download MP3: The Lovely Eggs - Have You Ever Heard a Digital Accordion? (sorry, this link has died)




As we’re talking about authors that appear in songs, you may recall that I reviewed Ham on Rye last October. This chap had Bukowski on his mind. I love this song and have had it on my mini 'gym' MP3 player (1GB only!) for 5 years now. It doesn’t grow old.

Download MP3: The Good Life - Album of the Year (courtesy of sillypipedreams.net)



As we’re drifted from Brautigan to Bukowski, I guess I should mention that Emmy the Great references Bukowski in her new album too:

Download MP3: Emmy the Great - 24 (courtesy of awmusic.ca)