Fishing, he suggests, is a compulsory aspect of American masculinity: '[A]ll Americans believe that they are born fishermen. For a man to admit a distaste for fishing would be like denouncing mother love or hating moonlight.' The sport must be taken seriously. Endless tackle must be purchased, vast distances covered, austerities practised. And it is all in the service of asserting one's supremacy over the fish:
The Yankee angler [...] endows the fish with great intelligence and fabulous strength, to the end that in defeating it he is even more intelligent and powerful. It has always been my private conviction that any man who pits his intelligence against a fish and loses has it coming, but this is a highly un-American thought. I hope I will not be denounced.In a short paragraph not unlike something by Roland Barthes, he also comments on the political importance of the sport: 'No candidate would think of running for public office without first catching and being photographed with a fish'. I wonder what the equivalent is these days. Apparently Obama has a tradition of playing basketball on election days (although right now the internet is covered in videos of him missing a lot of hoops at the annual White House Easter Egg Roll).
Steinbeck characterises fishing as a sign of authenticity, dependability, and substance in American culture. But in Britain - he says - its meaning is rather different and I'll come to that in a future post...
Me, Hugh and Steve are going fishing today. Gary the porter says you have to eat the worms. He is teasing me, but he also thinks I am going to be initiated in something important. He spent a lot of time yesterday telling me what I should wear (waterproofs, hat gloves scarf, warm clothes). Now it is raining. There is something about fishing that is like going through another world, through the looking glass. It does feel like a strange initiation rite a bit like the complicated ones in the Magic Flute. I am a bit nervous.
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