From catfishing as a young girl in the red clay waters of the
Mississippi, to deep-sea fishing in the Florida Keys with her
grandfather's younger brother, Leicester, Lorian Hemingway has
spent a large part of her life with a fishing pole in hand. But for
too many years, the joy of fishing was overshadowed by the despair
"I fished alcoholically, brutally, obsessively", Lorian recalls,
as she tells of identifying with her grandfather's booze-ridden
exploits. In a memoir full of dry wit and keen appreciation for the
absurdities of life, Lorian wryly acknowledges that she probably
wouldn't have attempted dangerous marlin-fishing expeditions had
she grown up with a different last name.
Fishing is more than a metaphor for Lorian Hemingway, it is her
own psychic barometer. This powerfully written memoir is eloquent
in its passion for the sport and in its conviction that your family
consists not necessarily of the people you are born with, but of
those you choose to let into your heart.
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