4 thoughts on “The Fisherman – John Langan

  1. I
    How Fishing Saved My Life

    “That’s what fishermen are, right? Storytellers.”

    This chapter is like the flow of a river onward from its mock-möbius start…
    I can quite imagine being drawn to this river as Dreamcatcher or Hawler of books, a hobbyist activity that gives meaning to my own life in the last eight years, giving me perspectives on my failures and losses and whatever successes I can wreak, just as the male protagonist in this novel is drawn to his own river by a deep Marietal loss from her vicious breast cancer, along with a questioning of his own lapsed religion coupled with his feeling that Marie is still watching him fish. And other thoughts about his life.
    The easy but textured flow of language takes my Dreamcatcher into an insight about real fishing in real rivers and towards more recondite rivers…secret places.
    I shall eke out its currents and rhythms, as I go deeper down to the boots, without spoilers, I hope.

  2. II

    The main protagonist (let’s call him Abe), and his tall friend Dan, from work, both bereaved in significantly different methods of bereavement, and the amounts of those dead, entailing Dan’s obsessive close-up study of a traffic signal and its sounds of recurrent ratcheting, and Abe’s sudden dream of fishing, but for what or for whom? Something King, something transcendent, something still lingering or langaning. I pull my line in for fear it will pull me in first.
    I shall now read the rest of this novel without Dreamcatching it. It is too dangerous to do otherwise.


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