Pages soaked in mystery

Norman Maclean was a man of western Montana and its Big Blackfoot River. He listened to stories from deep in its currents that no one else could hear. He was born in 1902, when firefighting was an act of primitive heroics and fly fishing was a spiritual art. He died in 1990 in a generation far removed from his youth, but one that, thanks to him, is still moved by the mysteries he explored. He wrote very little, but the little he wrote has ensured his stature as one of the literary masters of our age.

If readers know anything about him, it is his elegiac, autobiographical novella, A River Runs Through It, which has sold more than 2 million copies and was made into a movie by Robert Redford. It begins with this iconic statement: “In our family, there was no clear line between religion and fly fishing.” Years ago, when I first read that line, I was hooked on Maclean.

The son of a Presbyterian minister, Maclean wrote about fishing and forest fires and much more. His oeuvre explores the mystical union of nature and tragedy, of holiness and suffering, each with its distinctive marks of beauty. “My father was very sure about certain matters pertaining to the universe. To him, all good things—trout as well as eternal salvation—come by grace and grace comes by art and art does not come easy,” he writes in A River Runs Through It. Maclean began his writing career as he approached retirement at age 70. Well into his 80s when he died, he left his second book, Young Men and Fire, to be completed by his editor.