LITERARY FICTION: "A River Runs Through It" by Norman Maclean

STORYTELLING: 5/5

WRITING STYLE: 5/5

THEMES/MESSAGE: 5/5

CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT: 5/5

IMPACT/ENGAGEMENT: 5/5

Total Grade: A (100%)

“Yet even in the loneliness of the canyon I knew there were others like me who had brothers they did not understand but wanted to help. We are probably those referred to as ‘our brothers’ keepers,’ possessed of one of the oldest and possibly one of the most futile and certainly one of the most haunting instincts. It will not let us go,” (34). 

It’s going to be a short review for a short book, because I’ve not yet read the “and other stories” bit of it, though I’m sure all he’s written is just as beautiful as what I’ll talk about today. It’s a very distinct and exciting thing to read something about your home or a place you love. There’s a part of yourself that wonders how it is that someone else knows this land as well as you do, and sees it just the same, and loves it with their whole heart. And as I said in my most recent post, if one is to accurately depict Montana, one has to confront both the beauty and the tragedy of the place, which is just what Norman Maclean did. His voice is very “American” in the same way Hemingway’s is--it’s the simple, clean prose that invokes the most overwhelming of emotions within the reader. To write like an American is to say the most by saying the least, which is something Maclean understood very clearly. 

The imagery, too, is something that would seem to make up the bulk of the book but it’s done in such a subtle and genuine way that it doesn’t bog the story down. It’s a character in its own right, Montana, and I loved every attempt at grounding the reader, whether it was through the scenery or the culture. There was one particular line I loved that I find to be true, even after all this time since the book's original publication date, which is as follows: “If you think what I’m about to tell you next is a contradiction to this, then you will have to realize that in Montana drinking beer does not count as drinking,” (66).

It’s the little things like that, as well as the recognizable town names, the prevalence of Scots, the gambling and prostitution, the intermingling with native communities, a pure devotion to family and faith…it really was overpowering at times, and it seemed I couldn’t ask for a better story to be written about my home state. 

“This was the last fish we were ever to see Paul catch. My father and I talked about this moment several times later, and whatever our other feelings, we always felt it fitting that, when we saw him catch his last fish, we never saw the fish but only the artistry of the fisherman,” (114). 

Strong characterization within such a short story is one of the hardest things to accomplish as a writer, but Maclean did it well, particularly when it came to Paul, the narrator’s troubled younger brother. The voice is speaking from a place in the future, where all of Paul’s life has come and gone like a big old gust of wind, autumn leaves picked up and spinning in a small cyclone only to land softly on the earth once more. That’s what he was like, that's how I see him. A little tornado that his brother didn’t understand. And I think it’s probably the most clever thing Maclean did with this piece, making the reader just as confused about Paul as the narrator. We never fully understand why it is that Paul feels the need to gamble, prove he’s tough, get into fights, get arrested, only to turn around and charm everyone, make every man and woman admire and love him, become an artist in all things fly fishing. It’s one of the most heartbreaking things, too, that happens so often in Montana and other states with rural communities: an abundance of dead young people. It’s too easy to say boredom pushes one towards this type of recklessness. Paul himself says “Oh, I’ll never leave Montana,” but why? Why didn’t he want to leave? Why wasn’t he more careful when he knew just how loved he was by his family, particularly by his brother. 

The dynamic shared between Paul and Norman is really exceptional in the way it’s described. It’s one thing to know someone’s behavior, it’s another to know their heart. And if there was a river between the heart and one’s behavior, Norman was wading through it–he was always, always, trying to understand his brother, and in his own heart, he always tried to help him, even if he didn’t know what that was supposed to look like. And while it’s written in the book, there’s a quote from the film that has been condensed in a much more eloquent way that I think summarizes this idea fairly well: “Each one of us here today will at one time in our lives look upon a loved one who is in need and ask the same questions: ‘We are willing to help, Lord, but what, if anything, is needed?’ For it is true we can seldom help those closest to us. Either we don’t know what part of ourselves to give or, more often than not, the part we have to give is not wanted. And so it is those we live with and should know who elude us. But we can still love them. We can love completely without complete understanding.” 

On the more practical side of things, this was a great introduction to fly fishing, and as boring as that may sound to some people, I would recommend this book to everyone. It has everything from humor to heartache, family drama to romance, alongside moments of regret and longing that lie at the foundation of all Maclean’s words. And, as a writer, I would like to normalize naming characters by the real people who inspired them. It was refreshing and got me out of my evil reading slump. I’ll leave you with a quote, the last lines to the story I’ll cherish forever: “Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world’s great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs. I am haunted by waters,” (119).