This is an amazing and at times insightful book on a fishing subculture I didn't know existed before I started reading it. The lives and passions of people pursuing record-size tarpon off Florida -- sometimes in the Keys, sometimes in the Panhandle, but mostly off a small Gulf coast town called Homosassa -- make for fascinating reading. There are wild tales of rival fishing guides doing battle with their poles, of an angler who tied a fly using his girlfriend's pubic hair, of an unhinged mobster missing three fingers who nevertheless improved the sport. There are brawls and pranks and drug-dealing. The opening anecdote alone, involving an ailing angler with a GI problem and his guide reeling in a record-setting fish, made my jaw drop.
To his credit, author Monte Burke doesn't shy away from the more controversial elements of these stories, discussing the ethical dilemma of loving the fish they pursue while also having to kill those fish to claim the record, ad also pointing out the socioeconomic disparity between expert guides who devote their lives ot gaining knowledge and the wealthy "sport" who's paying the way for them to spend the day on the water.
Burke does a terrific job of evoking the 1970s in Homosassa, when tarpon fishermen first discovered the bounty off Homosassa, and it was common to see hundreds or even thousands of tarpon surging across the flats offshore, and then charting the overfishing and land development that eventually led to the area losing what had made it so attractive. He makes one minor fact error, confusing the Southwest Florida Water Management District with the South Florida Water Management District, but otherwise he's got his story straight about what went wrong and who's to blame.
But the book has two major problems. One is that Burke feels compelled to list the names of all the great fishermen and guides, over and over, like they're an incantation, and often I couldn't tell one from the other. The other is that he uses a lot of technical terms for the gear without really explaining them. Perhaps he assumes the only people reading the book are other fly fishermen, but as a guy who grew up using mostly cane poles to haul in bream, I'm sort of lost.
I wish, too, that the book hung together better as a coherent narrative. We start off following one of the kings of the record-chasers, now in decline, and I thought perhaps we'd be spending much of the book hanging out with him. Instead we get lots of back story and digressions and so forth, making this less a single story and more of a collection of fish tales. But man, what a lot of great tales they are!