Fly-Fishing

“When I was eleven years old, I fell headlong into an obsession with fishing,” writes Schaberg (Pedagogy of the Depressed), an English professor at Loyola University, in this short but sweet meditation on the art of fly-fishing. His musings are episodic and sharp: he considers the sport’s relationship to time (namely, that it makes him lose track of it), recalls the lakes in Michigan where he first learned to fish and the bayous of Louisiana where he moved later in life, describes the optical illusions created by humans’ interference with nature (“a dead fish in the water, silvery and still” turns out to be a candy bar wrapper), and explains the strangeness he feels in writing about fishing (typically, he notes, fishing is something he does so he doesn’t have to write). What the book lacks in a strong narrative arc, Schaberg makes up for in vivid prose: “In a deeper cove blooming with milfoil, I see a mysterious giant carp roving among some silver-dollar bluegills, like an awkward cousin visiting from out of town.” This roving outing lands. (Mar.)