Richard Gary Brautigan (January 30, 1935 – ca. September 14, 1984) was an American writer, best known for the novel Trout Fishing in America. Brautigan wrote ten novels and over 500 poems. Most of his novels had to deal with satire, black comedy, and Zen Buddhism. Due to years of depression and heavy alcoholism, he committed suicide in his home in Bolinas, California. His exact date of death is unknown but it is presumed that he ended his life on September 14, 1984.This guy was a phenomenal writer and an inspiration to live every day. I've been a fan since I was twelve years-old. I'll never forget buying paperback copies of Bob Dylan's Tarantula and Brautigan's Trout Fishing In America for $ .25 and being pleased as a sailor on a "west-pac" tour. Dylan's book fell by the wayside but I became more and more intrigued by the funny-looking guy with the droopy moustache and simple ideas.
"you must lie upon the daisies
and discourse in novel phrases
of your complicated state of mind
the meaning doesn't matter
if it's only idle chatter
of a transcendental kind."
My apologies if it was misquoted. I didn't bother to check. Just gonna rely on my memory for that one.
Today, Trout Fishing In America remains one of the wittiest and most original works of American literature of the 20th century. A collection of semi-abstract recollections and vignettes based around the loose theme of a search for the perfect fishing spot, Trout Fishing acted as a metaphor for the changing face of a country, and a gentle plea for a back-to-basics approach in the tradition of Thoreau. Naturally it found favour with the hippies and the post-Beats and swiftly sold a million copies, as ubiquitous in the pockets of Haight-Ashbury hipsters as beads and Thai sticks.
I quickly moved on to Brautigan's other work - novels such as 1964's evocative A Confederate General from Big Sur; his1970 short story collection Revenge of the Lawn, each page of which seemed to say more than many authors manage in entire novels; and the economical poetry of collections such as Rommel Drives On Deep Into Egypt and The Pill Versus the Springhill Mine Disaster. Other works such as Please Plant This Book, a collection of seed packets with poems printed on them, reflected his humour and wit.
Like Kurt Vonnegut, Brautigan (who bore more than a passing resemblance to David Crosby) had a surefire ability to make his readers laugh. Each sentence offers a lyrical epiphany and makes you feel a little bit better about being alive, while his eye for the minutiae of everyday existence is unparalleled. It was perhaps this dreamy style which, as the 60s gave way to the less trippy 70s and the hard-driven competition of the 80s, marked Brautigan's downfall. The world was changing, but - critics said - he was not.
Yet that's exactly why I love him: he was a writer out of step. Though a figurehead of the 60s he later claimed to hate hippies. Personally, I always thought he was just as much 1860s as 1960s. Besides, though slightly more pessimistic in tone, his later work is not to be written off. His final two novels, The Tokyo-Montana Express (1980) and So the Wind Won't Blow it All Away (1982), are strikingly original works, and his writings are now being reinterpreted more than ever, clearly an inspiration to writers such as Garrison Keillor and Tom Robbins as well as fans such as Jarvis Cocker, who recently read Brautigan for a podcast.
Far from being irrelevant or outmoded, Brautigan is instead the lone eccentric on the busy city intersection staring at the sky and finding patterns in the clouds, while everyone else shuffles along staring at the ground. With most of his major works being reprinted for a new generation, it's heartening to know that the world has caught up with his unique charms. For really, he was neither behind nor ahead of his time, but beside it, looking in and laughing quietly into his moustache.
I can't leave this post without sharing a sampling of his brilliant work.
IMPASSE
I talked a good hello
but she talked an even
better good-bye.
THE NECESSITY OF APPEARING IN YOUR OWN FACE
There are days when that is the last place
in the world where you want to be but you
have to be there, like a movie, because it
features you.
FOR FEAR YOU WILL BE ALONE
For fear you will be alone
you do so many things
that aren’t you at all
EVERYTHING INCLUDES US
The thought of her hands
touching his hair
makes me want to vomit.
I’LL AFFECT YOU SLOWLY
I’ll affect you slowly
as if you were having
a picnic in a dream.
There will be no ants.
It won’t rain.
AT THE GUESS OF A SIMPLE HELLO
At the guess of a simple hello
it can all begin
toward crying yourself to sleep,
wondering where the fuck
she is.
SEXUAL ACCIDENT
The sexual accident
that turned out to be your wife,
the mother of your children
and the end of our life, is home
cooking dinner for all your friends.
FUCK ME LIKE FRIED POTATOES
Fuck me like fried potatoes
on the most beautifully hungry
morning of my God-damn life.
THE CURVE OF FORGOTTEN THINGS
Things slowly curve out of sight
Until they are gone. Afterwards
Only the curve
Remains.
and discourse in novel phrases
of your complicated state of mind
the meaning doesn't matter
if it's only idle chatter
of a transcendental kind."
My apologies if it was misquoted. I didn't bother to check. Just gonna rely on my memory for that one.
Today, Trout Fishing In America remains one of the wittiest and most original works of American literature of the 20th century. A collection of semi-abstract recollections and vignettes based around the loose theme of a search for the perfect fishing spot, Trout Fishing acted as a metaphor for the changing face of a country, and a gentle plea for a back-to-basics approach in the tradition of Thoreau. Naturally it found favour with the hippies and the post-Beats and swiftly sold a million copies, as ubiquitous in the pockets of Haight-Ashbury hipsters as beads and Thai sticks.
I quickly moved on to Brautigan's other work - novels such as 1964's evocative A Confederate General from Big Sur; his1970 short story collection Revenge of the Lawn, each page of which seemed to say more than many authors manage in entire novels; and the economical poetry of collections such as Rommel Drives On Deep Into Egypt and The Pill Versus the Springhill Mine Disaster. Other works such as Please Plant This Book, a collection of seed packets with poems printed on them, reflected his humour and wit.
Like Kurt Vonnegut, Brautigan (who bore more than a passing resemblance to David Crosby) had a surefire ability to make his readers laugh. Each sentence offers a lyrical epiphany and makes you feel a little bit better about being alive, while his eye for the minutiae of everyday existence is unparalleled. It was perhaps this dreamy style which, as the 60s gave way to the less trippy 70s and the hard-driven competition of the 80s, marked Brautigan's downfall. The world was changing, but - critics said - he was not.
Yet that's exactly why I love him: he was a writer out of step. Though a figurehead of the 60s he later claimed to hate hippies. Personally, I always thought he was just as much 1860s as 1960s. Besides, though slightly more pessimistic in tone, his later work is not to be written off. His final two novels, The Tokyo-Montana Express (1980) and So the Wind Won't Blow it All Away (1982), are strikingly original works, and his writings are now being reinterpreted more than ever, clearly an inspiration to writers such as Garrison Keillor and Tom Robbins as well as fans such as Jarvis Cocker, who recently read Brautigan for a podcast.
Far from being irrelevant or outmoded, Brautigan is instead the lone eccentric on the busy city intersection staring at the sky and finding patterns in the clouds, while everyone else shuffles along staring at the ground. With most of his major works being reprinted for a new generation, it's heartening to know that the world has caught up with his unique charms. For really, he was neither behind nor ahead of his time, but beside it, looking in and laughing quietly into his moustache.
I can't leave this post without sharing a sampling of his brilliant work.
IMPASSE
I talked a good hello
but she talked an even
better good-bye.
THE NECESSITY OF APPEARING IN YOUR OWN FACE
There are days when that is the last place
in the world where you want to be but you
have to be there, like a movie, because it
features you.
FOR FEAR YOU WILL BE ALONE
For fear you will be alone
you do so many things
that aren’t you at all
EVERYTHING INCLUDES US
The thought of her hands
touching his hair
makes me want to vomit.
I’LL AFFECT YOU SLOWLY
I’ll affect you slowly
as if you were having
a picnic in a dream.
There will be no ants.
It won’t rain.
AT THE GUESS OF A SIMPLE HELLO
At the guess of a simple hello
it can all begin
toward crying yourself to sleep,
wondering where the fuck
she is.
SEXUAL ACCIDENT
The sexual accident
that turned out to be your wife,
the mother of your children
and the end of our life, is home
cooking dinner for all your friends.
FUCK ME LIKE FRIED POTATOES
Fuck me like fried potatoes
on the most beautifully hungry
morning of my God-damn life.
THE CURVE OF FORGOTTEN THINGS
Things slowly curve out of sight
Until they are gone. Afterwards
Only the curve
Remains.
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