Bookshelf: Karczynski's Journey Through Angling and Identity

It doesn’t take long to realize that Dave Karczynski has an intimate, unique connection to the fishing life. It doesn’t take long to realize that Dave Karczynski is not just a student of the water, but also of the word. It doesn’t take long to realize that Karczynski is a master of the opening line. “I was young. I was free. And I was screwed…” begins Calling After Water, which introduces our main character:  A recently unemployed fiction-writing graduate learning how to fly fish at his parent’s cottage in Wisconsin. The book traces the evolution of Karczynski’s angling life through essays that go beyond just telling a good fishing story and explore, deeply and acutely, how our relationship to water affects our relationship to self. This book is written for those of us who find ourselves, when not fishing, “ . . . feeling around under [our] chair for puddling water, hoping no one can smell the river on [us].”

Like a lot of great fiction, Calling After Water is, in some ways, a hero’s journey of falling in love with water and finding not only yourself, but family and friendship in that love.

It’s clear he has a painter’s eye toward imagery with lines like “dawn was blooming nectarine over the treetops” and how he places us there, with him “chin-high in prairie grass, parting milkweed for a better view.” He’s also keenly able to find the universal in the often solitary life of an angler. Who of us hasn’t studied the “fly box, sipped some bourbon, and said a prayer . . . ”? His subtle wit, and the ease with which he casts us into the capital “T” Truth of why we spend so much time on the water, make this a great read.

“Debonair Dirtbag” takes us deep into the Argentinian backcountry in search of a world-record brook trout while exploring the differences between “Camp Dirtbag and Camp Debonair—the two very different fishing worlds” Dave tends to find himself in. With his punchy humor and cutting perspective, he takes us for a harrowing hike fueled by snuff trying not to get trapped by a rising river and into a rumination on what draws people together and how to truly listen for what matters in a “fishing life” where “there is always more fishing to be done.”

“Why We Bass” is a meditation on joy, rightfully so since fishing for smallies allows us to “bask in the pure pleasure of the angling enterprise” and “do that one thing that for many anglers is the only goal:  have fun.” But we also learn about the bass’s “migratory instincts” and the “glacial drift” landscape of Wisconsin.

All the things I want in an essay, this one has. He expertly weaves high academic philosophy from Jeremy Bentham, who “invented an algorithm for quantifying pleasure,” with a trip to show his wife his home waters. We aren’t just taken fishing, but for a deep dive into the essence of what brings us happiness, and when Karczynski comes to the conclusion that “when it comes to bassin’, there’s more joy than a philosopher can count,” it’s impossible not to agree with him, put the book down, go tie on a popper, and head to river.

Just like trout, anglers need “different habitats at different life stages,” and Karczynski does a fine job capturing a wide range of those habitats. From adventures in northern Ontario to “Project Salvation” in Bristol Bay, where he went in search of a “day of ridiculous fishing,” the kind that “sustains the optimism all anglers need to remain inoculated against golf…”

Each essay highlights Karczynski’s deftness at telling a great yarn that makes us laugh and consider what draws us to the angling life. I’m thankful that “high on the list of fishing skills” he’ll “never master is the art of knowing when to quit” because I just want to keep reading more of his stories and fish with him. From small stream brook trout to winter steelhead in Michigan to muskie camps where Karczynski’s penchant for philosophy really shines with the clarity that must come when you’re in “muskie time,” each piece serves a singular purpose, but also moves a larger narrative forward.

The book concludes with the last fish Karczynski catches before becoming a father, bringing the journey not to an end, but full circle, to a new beginning. The bonefish that “isn’t an animal but a force of nature, not a fish but an engine” represents a turning point for the author where “life is no longer a trial period.” However, just as we never cease casting, we never cease becoming an angler. He ends with a listing of all his daughter’s “firsts”: her first time watching “a bobber bounce. The first time she’ll feed her mamma and dadda a fish she caught. Her first rising trout.” I love how he brings us back, in the end, to what we began with, the allure of rising trout and the innate desire in us to cast to it.

Karczynski correctly writes that “all anglers need the odd freakishly good day.” We also need freakishly good books like Calling After Water to call us to the water that has shaped our lives. This isn’t just a great collection of essays about fishing, but a narrative that captures all of our journeys as anglers.

---