In Trout Country by Peter Corodimas

weiliwen

Well-known member
Messages
982
Reaction score
29
Location
Lincolnshire, Illinois
I just picked up the book in the subject line, a compilation of stories about trout fishing, including from many famous authors like Hemingway, Travers, and Brautigan. I got it for a couple bucks off of Amazon; it had been "recommended" by Gary LaFountaine, via Silver Creek's memorum of him. I started reading articles and interviews with LaFountaine, and among them found the name of this book.

Anyway, when I received the book, a first (and likely only) edition published in 1971, I was pleasantly surprised to see that it had been signed by the author, to one Ernie C. Penn, apparently a country singer in that era. I haven't had much look looking up Corodimas, except that he was an English professor at a college. As far as I know, this was his only publication.

I am a few stories into the book so far, and am very pleased by the curation that Mr. Corodimas, If stories of trout fishing, serious and humorous, are your thing, this is a worthy and inexpensive add to your collection. I'll likely be re-reading this at some point.

I was struck by a poem that Corodimas cites in the book, which I'll reprint here. No reason except it's beautiful and in this crazy time, a little beauty might not be out of line:

The Song of Wandering Aengus
BY WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS

I went out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
And hooked a berry to a thread;
And when white moths were on the wing,
And moth-like stars were flickering out,
I dropped the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout.

When I had laid it on the floor
I went to blow the fire a-flame,
But something rustled on the floor,
And someone called me by my name:
It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran
And faded through the brightening air.

Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done,
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.
 
Top