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Fishing with Brautigan: A Positive Reconciliation of Outdoor Life with Sprawling Society

A Reflection on Trout Fishing in America

Recent history provides an interesting insight into the values of America as it is today. Looking back on the 1950’s and the early 1960’s has a unique connotation when considering the perspective of the literary world. While Hollywood was enforcing mandates where villains could not come out ahead at the end of a motion picture production and television beamed the notion of the stable, ideal American family to millions, the Beat writers were questioning life and spirituality in ways that would have in the least been considered unconventional. Appearing towards the end of the Beat movement, Richard Brautigan writes with the same probing that searches for meaning in life through both the undercurrents and the everyday. His novel Trout Fishing in America is also readily associated with the Beat movement with its dedication to fellow writers of the era, Jack Spicer? and Ron Loewinsohn?. This association is important because it provides an understanding of the launching point from which Brautigan confronts modern America. Many have read Trout Fishing in America as a concession that admits defeat. Kenneth Seib writes that the book’s narrator “is on the road searching for the romantic ideals of his childhood and for the genuinely human. What he discovers is a series of disenchantments…” (66). While this is a viable interpretation, there is more merit to the novel’s being a positive affirmation. By illustrating the unfulfilled possibilities the world still holds in store, and by showing how the ideal America of the past still resonates and has become part of the present, Brautigan presents both optimism and a sigh of relief for the future of life in America.

In spite of Seib’s analysis, Trout Fishing in America maintains a perspective of the world where the possibilities are plentiful. The chapter “Trout Fishing in America Nib” most thoroughly emphasizes these values. The chapter begins as a story about a man who works hard and continues to work hard; when he does not get paid for cutting down trees, he goes and helps sell the trees so his employers can afford to pay him. The man then spends the money on a gift for the narrator of the chapter: “a thirty-dollar fountain pen, one with a gold nib” (Brautigan 110). This embodies the traditional American dream in several ways. First of all, a man who works hard all his life is rewarded for his work. Secondly, that reward provides for the man’s family and allows him to leave something behind for future generations. While the man in the story does not have a family that he provides for, he does acquire something for his labor — a gift that he passes on. Were the novel meant to prophesy despair, the man would not have been able to obtain so significant an heirloom. Some would argue that the value and possibility represented are finite, as “after awhile it [the pen] takes on the personality of the writer,” and “nobody else can write with it” (Brautigan 110). These lines are not, however, a demonstration of limited capacity; rather, they illustrate that this important act of giving is personal and that the responsibility of maintaining the richness of traditional values falls as much on the individual as society at large. Thomas Hearron argues that “if literal, physical escape to the wilderness has become impossible in contemporary America, the imaginative escape is still possible,” which is a source of hope that this chapter also taps into (25). So close to the end of the book, the closing line of “Trout Fishing in America Nib” is simultaneously one of the most beautiful and reassuring: “I thought to myself what a lovely nib trout fishing in America would make with a stroke of cool green trees along the river’s shore, wild flowers and dark fins pressed against the paper” (110). The power of writing acts as a force against the death knell of the American wilderness and the dreams of America’s forefathers. As the critic William Stull? puts it, “the green fields [are] restored” (79).

The promise of possibility is not limited to the “Trout Fishing in America Nib” chapter; it exists throughout the novel, including within the oddly interesting chapter entitled “The Last Mention of Trout Fishing in America Shorty.” The literary critic David L. Vanderwerken, in his article “Trout Fishing in America and the American Tradition,” argues that the character Trout Fishing in America Shorty represents realistic America and all its shortcomings (32). Vanderwerken presents a sound argument for this, but what is most important, is that in the novel Trout Fishing in America Shorty is a person who is avoided and in many ways, discarded. Trout Fishing in America Shorty, being a collection of shortcomings, is a limitation. And he is a limitation that is at first run from, then overcome, and eventually altogether ignored. The decision to ignore him appears in the aforementioned chapter, “The Last Mention of Trout Fishing in America Shorty.” The narrator’s daughter is offered a sausage by Trout Fishing in America Shorty, but instead of taking that sausage, when the Benjamin Franklin statue “turn[s] green like a traffic light,” she “take[s] advantage of the green light, and she cross[es] over to the sandbox” (Brautigan 97).

Vanderwerken presents a negative perspective of this that extends beyond the reach of the novel, stating that this is “not so hopeful a choice as it appears. She is after all, a child and will eventually experience … disillusionment,” and to emphasize his point, he describes the sandbox as “a miniature wasteland” (39). This assumption of the baby girl having a future rough rub against reality seems a stretch. And Benjamin Franklin, who acts as a positive representation of traditional America as early as the first chapter, seems even more unlikely to be the one who would direct the child to a barren desert.

The more reasonable interpretation is that the child has chosen the path of creation. Benjamin Franklin, having been a notable inventor in his day, has directed her towards a sandbox — a place where castles can be molded and cast with a little water. Calling the sandbox a wasteland is to observe what it might seem, but Trout Fishing in America asks its readers to realize what that sand could be. This is the last the reader will see of Trout Fishing in America Shorty. And since it is more likely the child is a representative of the future (in opposition to trying to interpret the child’s own future, which we do not have access to in the novel), the implication is that Shorty is a negative reality that will be forgotten. This is further emphasized by the final line of the chapter, as Brautigan likes to place so much value in his closing lines: “Trout Fishing in America Shorty stared after her as if the space between them were a river growing larger and larger” (97). This imagery also shows a revival of a river. To put it simply, more water means more trout. The river is also a symbol of the wilderness, and the sentence indicates that in the daughter’s wake nature is expanding. This is as a hopeful of an outlook and as positive of an affirmation as any reader could ask for.

Other sections do paint a negative picture on their own; however, in the context of the entire work, their meanings become more helpful than harmful to the positive aspects of the novel. A particular chapter which faces this situation, though there are several, is “Trout Fishing in America Terrorists.” The line “But after a few more days trout fishing in America disappeared altogether as it was destined to from its very beginning, and a kind of autumn fell over the first grade” is especially troubling (Brautigan 40). The line refers to a prank where a group of older kids use chalk to write “Trout fishing in America” on the backs of almost all the first-graders, and the disappearance refers to the writing no longer being seen on school grounds. Vanderwerken claims this is a “parable” about America (37). The placement of this chapter within the novel is what most strongly calls the intended meaning of the chapter into question. It is a middle chapter, appearing long before the chapters already discussed, which have a more positive outlook. This chapter is seen in hindsight by presumably the same narrator as in “Trout Fishing in America Nib,” who imagines the wonder the world still has in store. Within “Trout Fishing in America Terrorists,” the narrator states that “Trout fishing in America” having been written on the back of a first-grader “looked good and seemed quite natural and pleasing to the eye” (Brautigan 37). Within the context of the entire novel, and with this idea of the wonder of trout fishing in America already having been formed, this chapter seems to serve as a foundation for what comes later and also as a warning (of the possibility that trout fishing in America could disappear altogether). Because Trout Fishing in America returns later in the book, readers know that this chapter is not an epitaph. So while there are less optimistic occurrences in Trout Fishing in America, they still serve a purpose aimed at reaffirming traditional values, virtues, and ideals in a positive light alongside modern America.

([These are notes for possible inclusion in a later revision.] The “Trout Fishing in America Terrorists” chapter also includes the voice of a little girl asking, “What does it mean?” (Brautigan 38). The need for meaning is established early on in this way and resonates throughout the book. In many ways this shows that the search for what Trout Fishing in America really is has just begun. This seems like a launching point for the quest for Trout Fishing in America, rather than any kind of conclusion or finality.)

Similar negative readings arise in chapters that are marked by death, most notably the closing chapter of the novel, “The Mayonnaise Chapter?.” Although the final chapter is a letter expressing regret at the loss of a friend, intriguingly named Mr. Good, Trout Fishing in America does not close with that as its focus and instead seems to suggest that readers should be more concerned with life and living. The letter ends with a simple apology, “P.S. / Sorry I forgot the give you the mayonaise [stet]” (Brautigan 112). The final detail pertains to the living, pointing back to the world and earthly events, even in times of sadness and mourning. This portion of the book in some ways ties what Seib describes as “the romantic ideals” of America to basic human needs (66). This implication comes from the preceding chapter, “The Prelude to The Mayonnaise Chapter?,” in which Brautigan expresses that he is fulfilling one of his own basic human needs, to write a book that ends with the word “mayonnaise” (111). Stull argues that “closing his [Brautigan] book with a deliberately misspelled word, the narrator clenches his freedom” (73). Brautigan shows freedom by not obeying spelling conventions that he has obeyed up to the point of even spelling the word correctly in the title of the chapter. This also embodies possibility, and in more ways than one. Not only can the misspelling be equally seen as a symbol of both freedom and possibility, but it also suggests that there is more to come. Brautigan says he needs to end a book with the word “mayonnaise,” yet he has ended one with “mayonaise.” While his need may be in some ways sated, the misspelling suggests that there is also more to be done — that there is a work to be written that really does end with “mayonnaise.” And he does so all in good humor. The absurdity of the postscript here is curious and also funny and relaxing. It takes away the emphasis and stress of the death in the letter. One issue worth noting is the humor of the novel; however, this essay shall not delve into it. Brautigan consistently presents comedy in his writing that coincides especially well with instances such as the one in “The Mayonnaise Chapter” to make what can only be a positive affirmation of life and living*.

Yet another negative reading, somewhat different from Vanderwerken’s wasteland/sandbox, comes in the chapter “((Trout Death by Port Wine((.” The line here is interesting because, like “The Last Mention of Trout Fishing in America Shorty,” it, too, relates to childhood and suggests the symbol of children as America’s future: “We ended up in a large pool that was formed by the creek crashing through the children’s toy section” (Brautigan 31). Hearron says that this line suggests that the natural world has been invaded by the modern (26-27). However, the mention of the toy section seems pertinent and also holds other implications. Brautigan could have chosen any section of a department store that he wanted, but he specifically chose the place that would most readily be associated with children. Children are, as always, a representation of the future, and if, in fact, there is a “creek crashing through the children’s toy section,” then the children are playing in the streams of their forefathers, which represent the hopes and dreams that Brautigan celebrates. Brautigan implies that the youth are being given the ability to save the past for the future, and instead of society invading nature, we see nature crashing into society. Like the narrator’s daughter in “The Last Mention of Trout Fishing in America Shorty” crossing the street to the sandbox, this chapter holds the idea of a brighter future. “Trout Death by Port Wine” occurs much earlier in the novel and arguably sets up this element of hope for recurrence throughout the novel. Brautigan’s optimistic contextualization of the course of events in modern America does not limit itself to the present, which may be considered less idealistic, but also extends to a new, worthwhile dawn.

([This is also a note for later revision.] Expand upon other images and implications of this chapter.)

This evolution of the past or unification of past and present for a better future has its best example in the chapter entitled “The Hunchback Trout?.” Within the chapter the narrator discusses how he catches trout in order to power the telephone booths that compose the creek: “The trout in those telephone booths were good fellows. There were a lot of young cutthroat trout six to nine inches long, perfect pan size for local calls. Sometimes there were a few fellows, eleven inches or so—for the long distance calls” (Brautigan 55). This is a strange idea, but it is not a foreign means of metaphor within Trout Fishing in America. Hearron describes similar sections as “a way of escaping to nature, even in the midst of a city,” and goes on to say that “through imagination one can still achieve an escape to the wilderness and a salvation from the anxieties of the city” (30-31). What occurs in “The Hunchback Trout” is different, however. The metaphor does not go from the city to the wilderness; instead, the wilderness is being compared to the city: “The creek was like 12,845 telephone booths in a row with high Victorian ceilings and all the doors taken off and all the backs of the booths knocked out” (Brautigan 55). Rather than avoiding city-life anxieties, the narrator, while fishing in a creek, takes on the role of someone in the city: “Sometimes when I went fishing in there, I felt just like a telephone repairman … I was an asset to society” (55). While Hearron does provide sufficient examples where the metaphors do extend from city to wilderness, this variant metaphor suggests something quite interesting and different in relation to the novel as a whole. By including symbolism and metaphors that create context from the standpoint of city to wilderness and also wilderness to city, Brautigan expresses how the pieces of America’s past that are important to maintain have adapted and been integrated into the modern world. This theme of societal evolution ties in strongly with the sections discussed earlier where the youth of America are used to represent the nation’s future. This powerful theme, which appears throughout the stories that compose Trout Fishing in America, binds together the elements of Brautigan’s positive affirmation of the way the world is moving.

From illustrating the untapped possibilities of America, to providing both fervor and warnings from the past, to creating metaphors that demonstrate cooperation between the old and the new, Trout Fishing in America acts as a singular force of optimism towards the outcome of the future. Although even literary society has in many ways progressed beyond the Beat movement, the echoes of that generation’s values still resound in modern work, thanks in part to the contributions of writers like Richard Brautigan. His message from this novel may come to modern readers from half a century ago, but it remains important and a contemporary issue. In order to better the future, a careful eye and respect must be given to the past, and children should be paid attention to as an element of the future. And similar to Trout Fishing in America, a strive should be made to keep the outlook optimistic, especially in spite of contrary elements. Critics who address the negative of this work and find an overall negative message or theme in the entirety of the novel must take note that Brautigan’s narrator does not dwell on sadness. Instead, the narrator carries on, continues to fish, continues to explore, and keeps a stiff upper lip. Trout Fishing in America is a positive affirmation of life in a persistently new, evolving America.




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