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CRAZY FOR RIVERS

Barich (Big Dreams: Into the Heart of California, 1994, etc.) returns to the trout stream, and it’s high time. Few can compete with Barich in the writing of spare, elegant, beguiling fishing tales, and the paucity of his output makes the appearance of this book most welcome. Life isn’t quite so airy here as it was back on Hat Creek, the McCloud, and the Russian (venues of his earlier writings), and the streams are as much solace now as they were seductions then. But it’s inconceivable that Barich would let anything go ponderous, and he handles his miseries with aplomb, knitting their darkness into the picture as part, not a condition, of the story. It is an autumn in which he gives himself over to the witchery of rivers in a way that he hasn’t for too long. While he drinks in the place and the fishing, he marvels at the life that brought him there; in particular, the fishing he had as a kid with his father and brothers, and “how a past experience can touch us deeply, can shatter us or set us free, even though we’ve never reckoned with its power.” Bits of melancholy drift by, seemingly weightless (“A long, healthy marriage went untended and collapsed”—his own, that is), though you can feel the thin ice of emotional vulnerability crack slightly beneath him. Then again, when he utters those sacred words “and we were the only guys around,” you can hear the glee in his streamside voice. And because he is such a reproachless storyteller, you know that “It was a warm Sunday toward the end of September when we set out, and the sky was cloudless and omenles” means with absolute surety that El Ni§o will beat them like a gong. In Barich’s hands, the fish story exists as a state of grace.

Pub Date: Feb. 1, 1999

ISBN: 1-55821-705-3

Page Count: 96

Publisher: Lyons Press

Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Dec. 15, 1998

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WHY WE SWIM

An absorbing, wide-ranging story of humans’ relationship with the water.

A study of swimming as sport, survival method, basis for community, and route to physical and mental well-being.

For Bay Area writer Tsui (American Chinatown: A People's History of Five Neighborhoods, 2009), swimming is in her blood. As she recounts, her parents met in a Hong Kong swimming pool, and she often visited the beach as a child and competed on a swim team in high school. Midway through the engaging narrative, the author explains how she rejoined the team at age 40, just as her 6-year-old was signing up for the first time. Chronicling her interviews with scientists and swimmers alike, Tsui notes the many health benefits of swimming, some of which are mental. Swimmers often achieve the “flow” state and get their best ideas while in the water. Her travels took her from the California coast, where she dove for abalone and swam from Alcatraz back to San Francisco, to Tokyo, where she heard about the “samurai swimming” martial arts tradition. In Iceland, she met Guðlaugur Friðþórsson, a local celebrity who, in 1984, survived six hours in a winter sea after his fishing vessel capsized, earning him the nickname “the human seal.” Although humans are generally adapted to life on land, the author discovered that some have extra advantages in the water. The Bajau people of Indonesia, for instance, can do 10-minute free dives while hunting because their spleens are 50% larger than average. For most, though, it’s simply a matter of practice. Tsui discussed swimming with Dara Torres, who became the oldest Olympic swimmer at age 41, and swam with Kim Chambers, one of the few people to complete the daunting Oceans Seven marathon swim challenge. Drawing on personal experience, history, biology, and social science, the author conveys the appeal of “an unflinching giving-over to an element” and makes a convincing case for broader access to swimming education (372,000 people still drown annually).

An absorbing, wide-ranging story of humans’ relationship with the water.

Pub Date: April 14, 2020

ISBN: 978-1-61620-786-1

Page Count: 288

Publisher: Algonquin

Review Posted Online: Jan. 4, 2020

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 1, 2020

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SWIMMING STUDIES

While the author may attempt to mirror this ideal, the result is less than satisfying and more than a little irritating.

A disjointed debut memoir about how competitive swimming shaped the personal and artistic sensibilities of a respected illustrator.

Through a series of vignettes, paintings and photographs that often have no sequential relationship to each other, Shapton (The Native Trees of Canada, 2010, etc.) depicts her intense relationship to all aspects of swimming: pools, water, races and even bathing suits. The author trained competitively throughout her adolescence, yet however much she loved racing, “the idea of fastest, of number one, of the Olympics, didn’t motivate me.” In 1988 and again in 1992, she qualified for the Olympic trials but never went further. Soon afterward, Shapton gave up competition, but she never quite ended her relationship to swimming. Almost 20 years later, she writes, “I dream about swimming at least three nights a week.” Her recollections are equally saturated with stories that somehow involve the act of swimming. When she speaks of her family, it is less in terms of who they are as individuals and more in context of how they were involved in her life as a competitive swimmer. When she describes her adult life—which she often reveals in disconnected fragments—it is in ways that sometimes seem totally random. If she remembers the day before her wedding, for example, it is because she couldn't find a bathing suit to wear in her hotel pool. Her watery obsession also defines her view of her chosen profession, art. At one point, Shapton recalls a documentary about Olympian Michael Phelps and draws the parallel that art, like great athleticism, is as “serene in aspect” as it is “incomprehensible.”

While the author may attempt to mirror this ideal, the result is less than satisfying and more than a little irritating.

Pub Date: July 5, 2012

ISBN: 978-0-399-15817-9

Page Count: 288

Publisher: Blue Rider Press

Review Posted Online: May 6, 2012

Kirkus Reviews Issue: May 15, 2012

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