If you have no experience of growing up on and around rivers, you may not grok this small masterpiece of nature writing. And that's a shame (for you in re: your impoverished life). Those of us who know, or used to know, a lot about rivers have probably run into folks like Kenny Salwey, the hero in this book. He and his kind believe the term "River Rat" is an honorific. I do too, even more so after devouring this wonderful book.
The Last River Rat is a pure joy to read, funny as hell in places, but also a book that requires a few tissues close at hand (are there any nature stories worth their salt that don't eventually tear your heart out?).
I grew up wandering the Loess Hills around the Missouri and fishing there and in the Sioux rivers and tributaries with my outdoorsman father. Exploring, mushrooming, swimming off sandbars, building a million-and-one forts and treehouses. This book brought back so many memories, good and bad (the two constants of any outdoor excursion, the bad mostly coming from freezing, broiling or insect bites). If you are lucky enough to be given an orientation to nature when you are young, you will not be able to resist this book. If you are unlucky enough to have been deprived of that experience, this book will help give you an idea of what you have missed. It is rich with fine prose, excellent stories, and a remarkable man's philosophy about what it is going to take for us to save our wild places.