John Gierach – författare

Brilliant, witty, perceptive essays about fly-fishing, the natural world, and life in general by the acknowledged master of fishing writers.“In the world of fishing there are magic phrases that are guaranteed to summon the demon. Among them are: ‘remote trout lake,’ ‘fish up to 13 pounds,’ ‘the place the guides fish on their days off,’” writes John Gierach in this wonderful collection of thirteen essays inspired by a fishing trip to Rat Lake, a remote body of water in Montana. Once again John Gierach does what he does best—explain the peculiarities of the fishing life in a way that will amuse novices and seasoned fly fishers alike. The View from Rat Lake deftly examines man in nature and nature in man, the pleasures of fishing the high country, and the high and low comedy that occasionally overcomes even the best-planned fishing trip. Some typically sage observations from The View from Rat Lake: “One of the things we truly fish for [is] an occasion for self-congratulation.”“In every catch-and-release fisherman’s past there is an old black frying pan.”“We . . . believe that a 12-inch trout caught on a dry fly is four inches longer than a 12-inch trout caught on a nymph or streamer.”

Brilliant, witty, perceptive essays about fly-fishing, the natural world, and life in general by the acknowledged master of fishing writers.Fly-fishing’s finest scribe, John Gierach, takes us from a nameless stream on a nameless ranch in Montana to a secret pool off a secret creek where he caught a catfish as a five-year-old, to a brook full of rattlesnakes and a private pond where the trout are all as long as your leg. As Gierach says, “The secret places are the soul of fishing.” Hearing about a new one never fails to entice us. And so Where the Trout Are All as Long as Your Leg transports the reader to the best of these places, where the fish are always bigger and the hatches last forever. After all, it’s these magical places that Gierach so vividly evokes that remind us how precious—and precarious—are the unspoiled havens of the natural world.

Brilliant, witty, perceptive essays about fly-fishing, the natural world, and life in general by the acknowledged master of fishing writers.“Once an angler has become serious about the sport (and ‘serious’ is the word that’s used), he’ll never again have enough tackle or enough time to use it. And his nonangling friends and family may never again entirely recognize him, either.” In other words, he (or she) will have entered Gierach territory. And fishermen who choose to brave the crowds at the big hold, commune with the buddies at the “family pool,” or even wade into questionable waters in the dark of night are sure to recognize themselves in Even Brook Trout Get the Blues.Whether debating bamboo versus graphite rods, describing the pleasure of fishing in pocket waters or during a spring snow in the mountains, or recounting a trip in pursuit of the “fascinatingly ugly” longnose gar, Gierach understands that fly-fishing is more than a sport. It’s a way of life in which patience is (mostly) rewarded, the rhythms of the natural world are appreciated, and the search for the perfect rod or ideal stream is never ending. It is not a life without risks, for as Gierach warns: “This perspective on things can change you irreparably. If it comes to you early enough in life, it can save you from ever becoming what they call ‘normal.’” Even Brook Trout Get the Blues will convince you that “normal” is greatly overrated.

Brilliant, witty, perceptive essays about fly-fishing, the natural world, and life in general by the acknowledged master of fishing writers.With the wry humor and wit that have become his trademark, John Gierach writes about his travels in search of good fishing and even better fish stories. In this new collection of essays on fishing—and hunting—Gierach discusses fishing for trout in Alaska, for salmon in Scotland and for almost anything in Texas. He offers his perceptive observations on the subject of ice-fishing, getting lost, fishing at night, tournaments and the fine art of tying flies. Gierach also shares his hunting technique, which involves reading a good book and looking up occasionally to see if any deer have wandered by. Always entertaining, often irreverent and illuminating, Gierach invites readers into his enviable way of life, and effortlessly sweeps them along. As he writes in Dances with Trout, “Fly-fishing is solitary, contemplative, misanthropic, scientific in some hands, poetic in others, and laced with conflicting aesthetic considerations. It’s not even clear if catching fish is actually the point.”

Brilliant, witty, perceptive essays about fly-fishing, the natural world, and life in general by the acknowledged master of fishing writers.Death, Taxes, and Leaky Waders collects forty of John Gierach’s finest essays on fishing from six of his books. Like all his writing, these essays are seasoned by a keen sense of observation and a deep knowledge and love of fishing lore, leavened by a wonderfully wry sense of humor. Gierach often begins with an observation that soon leads to something below the surface, which he finds and successfully lands. As Gierach says, writing is a lot like fishing. This is the first anthology of John Gierach’s work, a collection that is sure to delight both die-hard fans and new readers alike. To enter Gierach’s world is to experience the daily wonder, challenge, and occasional absurdity of the fishing life—from such rituals as the preparation of camp coffee (for best results, serve in a tin cup) to the random, revelatory surprises, such as the flashing beauty of a grayling leaping out of the water. Whether he’s catching fish or musing on the ones that got away, Gierach is always entertaining and enlightening, writing with his own inimitable blend of grace and style, passion and wit.

Small stream fishing wisdom with the same insight and pungent humour that has become Gierach's trademark. Offers advice on tackle selection, reading water, and small stream scouting.

Includes tactics for fishing high country lakes, the conflicting currents of high mountain streams, and the ever-changing waters of beaver ponds; information on cutthroats, brook trout, goldens, rainbows, grayling; and information on the best weather and seasons to fish and the tackle and flies to take into the high country. Fly-fishing in scenic and remote mountain waters is a special kind of fishing, explored in depth by veteran fly fisher John Gierach. It explains how to find the best waters and how to fish them to the best advantage. The author says "The mountains -- any mountains -- can make you pay for your fishing with time, shoe leather, exertion, and even disappointment. But they usually give back more than they take in terms of solitude and a sense of adventure that you just won't find on more civilised waters.".

Small-stream fishing wisdom with Gierach''s trademark pungent humor. Advice on tackle selecting, reading water, scouting.

In these brilliant, witty, perceptive essays about fly-fishing, the natural world, and life in general, John Gierach, the acknowledged master of fishing writers demonstrates that fishing, when done right, is as much a philosophical pursuit as a sport.Gierach travels to Wyoming and Maine and points in between, searching out new fly-fishing adventures and savoring familiar waters with old friends. Along the way he meditates on the importance of good guides ("Really, the only thing a psychiatrist can do that a good guide can''t is write prescriptions"), the challenge of salmon fishing ("Salmon prowl. If they''re not here now, they could be here in half an hour. Or tomorrow. Or next month"), and the zen of fishing alone ("I also enjoy where my mind goes when I''m fishing alone, which is usually nowhere in particular and by a predictable route"). On a more serious note, he ponders the damaging effects of disasters both natural and man-made: drought, wildfires, and the politics of dam-building, among others. Reflecting on a trip to a small creek near his home, Gierach writes, "In my brightest moments, I think slowing down...has opened huge new vistas on my old home water. It''s like a friendship that not only lasts, but gets better against the odds." Similarly, Still Life with Brook Trout proves that Gierach, like fly-fishing itself, becomes deeper and richer with time.

Brilliant, witty, perceptive essays about fly-fishing, the natural world, and life in general by the acknowledged master of fishing writers.Proving that fishing is not just a part-time pursuit, At the Grave of the Unknown Fisherman takes us through a year with America’s favorite fishing scribe, John Gierach, who dedicates himself to his passion despite his belief that “In the long run, fishing usually amounts to a lifetime of pratfalls punctuated by rare moments of perfection.”Beginning with an early spring expedition to barely thawed Wyoming waters and ending with a New Year’s Eve trip to the Frying Pan River in Colorado, Gierach’s travels find him fishing for trout, carp, and grayling; considering the pros and cons of learning fishing from videos (“video fishing seems a little like movie sex: fun to watch, but a long way from the real thing”); pondering the ethics of sharing secret spots; and debunking the myth of the unflappable outdoorsman (“masters of stillness on the outside, festering s***holes of uncertainty just under the surface”). With an appreciation of the highs, the lows, and all points between, Gierach writes about the fishing life with wisdom, grace, and the well-timed wisecrack. As he says, “The season never does officially end here, but it ends effectively, which means you can fish if you want to and if you can stand it, but you don’t have to.” As any Gierach fan knows, want to and have to are never very far apart.

From the irrepressible author of Trout Bum and The View from Rat Lake comes an engaging, humorous, often profound examination of life''s greatest mysteries: sex, death, and fly-fishing.John Gierach''s quest takes us from his quiet home water (an ordinary, run-of-the-mill trout stream where fly-fishing can be a casual affair) to Utah''s famous Green River, and to unknown creeks throughout the Western states and Canada. We''re introduced to a lively group of fishing buddies, some local "experts" and even an ex-girlfriend, along the way. Contemplative, evocative, and wry, he shares insights on mayflies and men, fishing and sport, life and love, and the meaning (or meaninglessness) of it all.

Brilliant, witty, perceptive essays about fly-fishing, the natural world, and life in general by the acknowledged master of fishing writers.With his inimitable combination of wit and wisdom, John Gierach once again celebrates the fly-fishing life in Standing in a River Waving a Stick and notes its benefits as a sport, philosophical pursuit, even therapy: “The solution to any problem—work, love, money, whatever—is to go fishing, and the worse the problem, the longer the trip should be.” After all, fly-fishing does teach important life lessons, says Gierach—about solitude, patience, perspective, humor, and the sublime coffee break. Recounting both memorable fishing spots and memorable fish, Gierach discusses what makes a good fly pattern, the ethics of writing about undiscovered trout waters, the dread of getting skunked, and the camaraderie of fellow fishermen who can end almost any conversation with “Well, it’s sort of like fishing, isn’t it?” Reflecting on a lifetime of lessons learned at the end of a fly rod, Gierach concludes, “The one inscription you don’t want carved on your tombstone is ‘The Poor Son of a Bitch Didn’t Fish Enough.’” Fortunately for Gierach fans, this is not likely to happen.

Brilliant, witty, perceptive essays about fly-fishing, the natural world, and life in general by the acknowledged master of fishing writers.With the wry humor and wit that have become his trademark, John Gierach writes about his travels in search of good fishing and even better fish stories. In this new collection of essays on fishing—and hunting—Gierach discusses fishing for trout in Alaska, for salmon in Scotland and for almost anything in Texas. He offers his perceptive observations on the subject of ice-fishing, getting lost, fishing at night, tournaments and the fine art of tying flies. Gierach also shares his hunting technique, which involves reading a good book and looking up occasionally to see if any deer have wandered by. Always entertaining, often irreverent and illuminating, Gierach invites readers into his enviable way of life, and effortlessly sweeps them along. As he writes in Dances with Trout, “Fly-fishing is solitary, contemplative, misanthropic, scientific in some hands, poetic in others, and laced with conflicting aesthetic considerations. It’s not even clear if catching fish is actually the point.”

Brilliant, witty, perceptive essays about fly-fishing, the natural world, and life in general by the acknowledged master of fishing writers.“Good fishing and good writing use the same skills,” writes John Gierach, “whether you’re after a trout or a story, you won’t get that far with brute force. You’re better off to watch, wait, and remain calm…letting it all happen, rather than trying to make it happen.” As the wry and perceptive essays in Another Lousy Day in Paradise prove, Gierach knows his writing as well as his fishing.Paradise, Gierach shows us, is relative; it can be found in the guilty luxury of fishing private waters or when one is soaked to the skin, in a small canoe on a big lake in a storm a hundred miles from anywhere, exhilarated after a day’s fishing. There are also pleasures to be found in unexpected places: solitary fishing trips, fishing for less-appreciated fish like carp, or meeting a guide who at first seems like an inarticulate ax murderer but who proves to be a “Zen master among fishing guides.” The point is to let things unfold as they will—because after all, says Gierach, “Basically, the world is a big, dumb trout, and you’re a fisherman with all the time in the world.” As Gierach fans know, this is a description of paradise.

Brilliant, witty, perceptive essays about fly-fishing, the natural world, and life in general by the acknowledged master of fishing writers.“Once an angler has become serious about the sport (and ‘serious’ is the word that’s used), he’ll never again have enough tackle or enough time to use it. And his nonangling friends and family may never again entirely recognize him, either.” In other words, he (or she) will have entered Gierach territory. And fishermen who choose to brave the crowds at the big hold, commune with the buddies at the “family pool,” or even wade into questionable waters in the dark of night are sure to recognize themselves in Even Brook Trout Get the Blues.Whether debating bamboo versus graphite rods, describing the pleasure of fishing in pocket waters or during a spring snow in the mountains, or recounting a trip in pursuit of the “fascinatingly ugly” longnose gar, Gierach understands that fly-fishing is more than a sport. It’s a way of life in which patience is (mostly) rewarded, the rhythms of the natural world are appreciated, and the search for the perfect rod or ideal stream is never ending. It is not a life without risks, for as Gierach warns: “This perspective on things can change you irreparably. If it comes to you early enough in life, it can save you from ever becoming what they call ‘normal.’” Even Brook Trout Get the Blues will convince you that “normal” is greatly overrated.

Brilliant, witty, perceptive essays about fly-fishing, the natural world, and life in general by the acknowledged master of fishing writers.In No Shortage of Good Days John Gierach takes readers from the Smokies in Tennessee to his home waters in Colorado, from the Canadian Maritimes to Mexico—saltwater or fresh, it’s all fishing and all irresistible. As always he writes perceptively about a wide range of subjects: the charm of familiar waters, the etiquette of working with new fishing guides, night fishing when the trout and the mosquitoes are both biting, and fishing snobbery, a pitfall he seems to have largely avoided: “A friend and I recently realized that making fly-fishing a way of life instead of a hobby has made us a couple of pretty one-dimensional characters. On the other hand, we agreed we’re two of the happiest people we know, albeit in a simple-minded sort of way.” Gierach again demonstrates the wit, eloquence, and insight that have become his trademarks. No Shortage of Good Days is the next best thing to a day of fishing.

This “elegiac tribute to the elusive art and ineffable pleasure of fly-fishing” (Kirkus Reviews) shows us why life’s most valuable lessons—and some of its best experiences—are found while fly-fishing.For John Gierach, “the master of fly-fishing” (Sacramento Bee), fishing is always the answer—even when it’s not clear what the question is. In All Fishermen Are Liars, Gierach travels around North America seeking out quintessential fishing experiences, whether it’s at a busy stream or a secluded lake hidden amid snow-capped mountains. He talks about the art of fly-tying and the quest for the perfect steelhead fly (“The Nuclear Option”), about fishing in the Presidential Pools previously fished by the elder George Bush (“I wondered briefly if I’d done something karmically disastrous and was now fated to spend the rest of my life breathing the exhaust of this elderly Republican”), and the importance of traveling with like-minded companions when caught in a soaking rain (“At this point someone is required to say, ‘You know, there are people who wouldn’t think this is fun’”). And though Gierach loses some fish along the way, he never loses his passion and sense of humor. Wry, contemplative, and lively—that is to say, pure Gierach—All Fishermen Are Liars is a joy to read—and, as always, the next best thing to fishing itself. “From the early days…to his present cult status, Gierach’s candor and canniness at the water’s edge have been consistent…His grizzled, laconic persona is engaging and the voice of the common angler” (The Wall Street Journal).

“After five decades, twenty books, and countless columns, [John Gierach] is still a master,” (Forbes) and his newest book only confirms this assessment, along with his recent induction into the Flyfishing Hall of Fame. In A Fly Rod of Your Own, Gierach brings his ever-sharp sense of humor and keen eye for observation to the fishing life and, for that matter, life in general.Known for his witty, trenchant observations about fly-fishing, Gierach’s “deceptively laconic prose masks an accomplished storyteller…his alert and slightly off-kilter observations place him in the general neighborhood of Mark Twain and James Thurber” (Publishers Weekly). A Fly Rod of Your Own transports readers to streams and rivers from Maine to Montana, and as always, Gierach’s fishing trips become the inspiration for his pointed observations on everything from the psychology of fishing (“Fishing is still an oddly passive-aggressive business that depends on the prey being the aggressor”); why even the most veteran fisherman will muff his cast whenever he’s being filmed or photographed; the inevitable accumulation of more gear than one could ever need (“Nature abhors an empty pocket. So does the tackle industry”); or the qualities shared by the best guides (“the generosity of a teacher, the craftiness of a psychiatrist, and the enthusiasm of a cheerleader with a kind of Vulcan detachment”). As Gierach likes to say, “fly-fishing is a continuous process that you learn to love for its own sake. Those who fish already get it, and those who don’t couldn’t care less, so don’t waste your breath on someone who doesn’t fish.” A Fly Rod of Your Own is an ode to those who fish that “brings a skeptical, wry voice to the peril and promise of twenty-first-century fishing” (Booklist).

“After five decades, twenty books, and countless columns, [John Gierach] is still a master,” (Forbes) and his newest book only confirms this assessment, along with his recent induction into the Flyfishing Hall of Fame. In A Fly Rod of Your Own, Gierach brings his ever-sharp sense of humor and keen eye for observation to the fishing life and, for that matter, life in general.Known for his witty, trenchant observations about fly-fishing, Gierach’s “deceptively laconic prose masks an accomplished storyteller…his alert and slightly off-kilter observations place him in the general neighborhood of Mark Twain and James Thurber” (Publishers Weekly). A Fly Rod of Your Own transports readers to streams and rivers from Maine to Montana, and as always, Gierach’s fishing trips become the inspiration for his pointed observations on everything from the psychology of fishing (“Fishing is still an oddly passive-aggressive business that depends on the prey being the aggressor”); why even the most veteran fisherman will muff his cast whenever he’s being filmed or photographed; the inevitable accumulation of more gear than one could ever need (“Nature abhors an empty pocket. So does the tackle industry”); or the qualities shared by the best guides (“the generosity of a teacher, the craftiness of a psychiatrist, and the enthusiasm of a cheerleader with a kind of Vulcan detachment”). As Gierach likes to say, “fly-fishing is a continuous process that you learn to love for its own sake. Those who fish already get it, and those who don’t couldn’t care less, so don’t waste your breath on someone who doesn’t fish.” A Fly Rod of Your Own is an ode to those who fish that “brings a skeptical, wry voice to the peril and promise of twenty-first-century fishing” (Booklist).

Brilliant, witty, perceptive essays about fly-fishing, the natural world, and life in general by the acknowledged master of fishing writers.Fly-fishing’s finest scribe, John Gierach, takes us from a nameless stream on a nameless ranch in Montana to a secret pool off a secret creek where he caught a catfish as a five-year-old, to a brook full of rattlesnakes and a private pond where the trout are all as long as your leg. As Gierach says, “The secret places are the soul of fishing.” Hearing about a new one never fails to entice us. And so Where the Trout Are All as Long as Your Leg transports the reader to the best of these places, where the fish are always bigger and the hatches last forever. After all, it’s these magical places that Gierach so vividly evokes that remind us how precious—and precarious—are the unspoiled havens of the natural world.