Offers meditations on fishing in the Northwest, looking at streamside natural history, flies and those who tie them, and some unpleasant chance encounters with other fishermen
This is a "waxing poetic" book and therefore how much you enjoy it depends on how much it resonates with you. A good bit did resonate, some didn't. What doesn't resonate is plesant but boring at best, but since it is a short book the boring segments dont drag on. Plesant read.
The Habit of Rivers ist ein faszinierendes Buch welches das rhythmische Auf – und Ab im Wesen von Flüssen, bedingt durch den Wechsel der Jahreszeiten, beschreibt. In Leesons Fall, sind das die grossen Fliessgewässer Oregon’s, Deschutes und McKenzie River, bekannt als Laichplätze von Steelheads und Lachsen. Als Neuankömmling aus dem Osten der USA, Virginia um genau zu sein, findet Leeson zunächst Halt im Vertrauten. Fliegenfischen anstatt Spinnen, Bachforellen anstatt Steelheads, Flüsse gross und klein anstatt der Weiten der pazifischen Strände.
Mit scharfem Blick entdeckt Leeson die Geologie und Biologie einer abwechslungsreichen Landschaft die für ihn nicht bloss einen existenziellen Neuanfang bedeutet. Bei genauerem Erforschem des Unbekannten offenbart sich Leeson die Vielfalt der Möglichkeiten in Oregons Wasserlandschaften. Damit einhergehend die beinahe unbegrenzten Gelegenheiten die obligatorische herbstlich/ winterliche Pflege der Ausrüstung auf beliebige Jahreszeiten zu verlegen.
Mit ungeheuerlicher Akribie nähert sich Leeson den tiefergründigen Antrieben, die Fliegenfischer in die exzessive Auseinandersetzung mit Entomologie und Hydrologie treibt; wo hinter vorgehaltener Hand getuschelt wird, über die Versuche mit allen erlaubten und beinahe verpönten Mitteln den erlösenden Zug in der Schnur herbeizuführen; an Bindewerkstätten in denen Grad I Bälge hinter Glas gerahmt werden um wertvolles und formvollendetes Gefieder vor dem Rupfen der Hecheln zu schützen; an endlose Nächte gebeugt über Land - und Gewässerkarten um unter widrigsten Umständen Reisepläne zu schmieden, zu verwerfen und sie dennoch auszuführen; von Obsessionen, Fantasien und Antagonismen, von Leidenschaft, Enttäuschung und Hoffnung, von Metamorphosen und Transformationen handelt dieses Buch.
The Habit of Rivers ist ein Werk philosophischen Tiefgangs, welches mit Witz die Suche nach der Bedeutung in den kleinen sowie übergeordneten Details unserer Leidenschaft für Wasser und Fische ergründet. Von Bachforellen zu Steelheads und Lachsen, von Driftbooten zu Kunst, Insekten zu Schwerkraft und dem Tod; Leeson verfügt über die wunderbare Begabung, lose verstreute Punkte aus dem Netz unserer Wahrnehmung zusammen zu fügen wie Stickereien. Bleibender Eindruck ist garantiert.
Mr. Leeson's essays are essentially a light round of yoga exercised in that spot where your soul and your brain converge: Nothing overly taxing, but you clearly feel better for having done it. Non-anglers need not feel wary: There is plenty here to enjoy for those that are "not in the club", because in point of fact, fishing is merely a useful conveyance for the real work going on here - which is to gently lift you up in a positive way by pointing out those things which we all have in common- hope and frustration, anticipation and goals, dreams ind ideas. He does so in a thoughtful way, often with a skilled humor and always with that secret knack some doctors have of examining you without tipping you off that anything much at all it really going on. A good read.
A great read. It's refreshing to encounter a writer who takes seriously--and wrestles with--the ethics and problems of fishing, and what it means to walk the banks of rivers. I particularly enjoyed the eighth chapter's discussion of language and rivers. But great moments are throughout, for instance:
"Fishing in general has always seemed to me a form of subversion. In a world that insists upon 'means' and 'ends,' that dooms every path to a destination, fishing elides the categories and so slips the distinction altogether. You become engaged in the nonterminal, participial indefiniteness of 'gone fishing'" (Chapter 3).
A beautiful, passionate, humorous, delightful book about fly-fishing as a metaphor for life, in every respect. Leeson fishes Central Oregon when he's not a professor at Oregon State, and he writes evocatively of every aspect of fishing - from the flies themselves to the lakes, rivers and streams he fishes (many of which I have fished, alone and with dear friends). Some laugh-out-loud observations about fishing, fishermen and life generally, and some wonderful insights into our passions and predelictions, all reflected in the cool clear waters we fish.
I read this book over many months; the writing was so dense that I would read a few pages and leave it aside to reflect for a while. I also didn't want it to finish too soon. Ted Leeson has this rare quality of being able to put into words some essential truth that, at the edge of consciousness, you'd always suspected existed, yet were never able to formulate. As noted elsewhere, some may find it overly analytical. However, most paragraphs are absolute gems that I re-read multipletimes for the sheer pleasure of being transported to the beautiful world of Oregon's rivers.
don't believe the negative reviews. if you've ever read a decent piece of literature in your life and are the least bit interested in fly fishing and outdoor writing, you will totally enjoy this book. poetic and fun; ted leeson takes you on a fly fishing roadtrip of Oregon's backroads and rivers providing a perspective and clarity of purpose few others share. I loved every minute of this book and spent a month savoring each sentence knowing it wouldn't last forever. excellent.
A collection fly fishing essays of high literary quality. While his reflections are on particular streams, anyone who has fished a dry fly will generally understand and agree with the deeper connections the author makes with flowing water and fishing for rising trout to our everyday lives. As Thoreau said, its not the fish we are after.
I struggled through the first few paragraphs exasperated that I found myself on a trout stream with another feather-tossing narcissist whose a verbal back casts were too hurried and resulted in his thought hitting the rod tip and wrapping into a mess.
Boy, was I wrong.
I am grateful for the time I spent on the water with Ted Leeson. Beautiful narrative about a beautiful act.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
I do not fish. In many senses, I am not the standard audience for which this book is written. And yet, I treasured it dearly. What I most appreciated is the way in which Leeson pays attention: to language, water, rhythm, birds. He sharpens how I look and what I see. One of my favorite books of nature writing (and totally worth looking up every type of trout referenced...).