An exercise in failing, disguising, heightening and perverting the various referents of trout fishing in america, that young terrorist God. Can’t wait to offload this book to my children (God willing that my nuts still work when I want some of the little bastards): I’ll probably add this book into my home-school syllabus around the same time that I begin my seminars on The Mighty Boosh, Captain Beefheart and polymorphous perversity. ( )

I imagine one of the cardinal rules of surrealism is complaining about not getting it, but...

I clearly need to continue to broaden my horizons and continue by surrealist adventure because Trout Fishing in America because, while immensely readable and of the kind of length that by itself makes it difficult to put down, I just didn't get the cult classic kick.

How do you describe a book like this? It starts off commenting on the cover, beginning a process of boiling down the whole book into mayonnaise. The funny thing is, the version on Audible (available in the included library) and various other editions don't have the original cover featuring the statue of Ben Franklin... Anyways, this book appears to be a series of vignettes and micro fiction that are linked around the theme of trout fishing and camping, varying degrees of commentary on America, and/ or none of the above, but the phrase, Trout fishing in America, prominently featured, regardless of whether it's a person, place, or chalk graffiti on the back of first year students.

The writing is really interesting in places, both in its form and quality, and in the content and commentary. At its best it is charming, funny, and insightful, at its worst its bumbling, boring, and on the nose/ off the mark, but mostly it chugs along rather affabley, carrying the reader along on with its bizarreness and chapter brevity.

I wouldn't be at all surprised if I am totally ignorant to much of what is going on, displaced as I am in time, geography, and artistic knowledge/ exploration. I also don't feel like I read the same book as the author of the almost sycophantic introduction. I will certainly mark this as something to look back on and possibly return to once I have more experience and context.

There is definitely some unfortunate language around race. Unlike, The Hearing Trumpet by Leonora Carrington, it is a bit more prevalent, as are some stereotypes and perspectives that are racist. This is not a huge part of the novel and it seems to be more common tropes than anything particularly virulent, but it is not my place to judge. These things do need to be mentioned when they arise though, regardless of when a book was published

Ultimately, I did enjoy it for the most part and found it somewhat inspiring, for both complimentary and less so reasons. I absolutely did want it to be over and fully zoned out by the end. I do wonder how much the brilliant narration of Chris Andrew Ciulla made a difference and helped keep me focused.

My reviews are always my own random subjective thoughts, so you're mileage may vary, and this is never more the case than with the more uncommon and particularly styled movements/ expressions. ( )

This is one of those books I feel like it's cool to like, or at least say you like in a group of people, without actually liking, or understanding it, all that much. A venerable entry in the absurd canon, certainly - though I'd rather read almost any few pages of [infinite Jest] before cracking this one open again. The conceit of merely substituting a term in the place of other nouns tires rather quickly. Really, I only read this one because I hadn't been able to find a copy of another title yet and wanted to try something by Brautigan.

2 bones!! ( )

An exercise in failing, disguising, heightening and perverting the various referents of trout fishing in america, that young terrorist God. Can’t wait to offload this book to my children (God willing that my nuts still work when I want some of the little bastards): I’ll probably add this book into my home-school syllabus around the same time that I begin my seminars on The Mighty Boosh, Captain Beefheart and polymorphous perversity. ( )

Jesus deliver me from Mainstream American Experimental Fiction!

Birdie Jay: “It’s so dumb, it’s brilliant!”
Benoit Blanc: “NO! It’s just DUMB!”

Tedious and tiresome, and the vituperation against Nelson Algren bizarre and dumb. (The Man with the Golden Arm is a better book than this.)

I feel like I owe William Burroughs an apology. ( )