Inspiration Station is an occasional series on ChiYAwriters.com highlighting the people, places, and works of art that inspire us as writers.
(Manuscript images from The University of Chicago, The Special Collections Research Center)
Time and again, when my writing feels a little stale, a little stalled, I go back to stories that moved me. For that matter, even when life feels stale and stalled. I re-read those stories, sometimes even just paragraphs, phrases.
It’s one of the true powers of literature–the ability to speak to an individual. Words that feel like an author is reaching through time and writing those thoughts, again, just for me in this time and place I occupy, though to the author it was unknowable.
The story that I’ve read, perhaps more than any other, was written forty years ago, A RIVER RUNS THROUGH IT– a semi-autobiographical novella by Norman Maclean. Though, thanks to the movie adaptation by Robert Redford, Maclean is strongly associated with Missoula, Montana, he spent the majority of his life in Chicago. First attending the University of Chicago for graduate school and then becoming a professor in 1928 until his retirement at the age of seventy. It was only then, upon retirement, that he began to write down some of the stories he was renowned for telling.
He published his first work of fiction after the age of seventy. And in many ways, it has defined his legacy. That might be inspiration enough.
Then there are his words. Lyrical and truthful and raw. They speak to the poignancy of memory and the passage of time, when so many people and moments in are life have faded away yet stay with us still.
And through some kind of alchemy, he made fly fishing poetry.
A few sentences of A RIVER RUNS THROUGH IT are etched in my mind, but I still pick up my old marked-up, yellowing copy of Maclean’s book to look at the words, to hear them speak to me: “Eventually all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world’s great floods and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs. I am haunted by waters.” (The University of Chicago Press, copyright 1976)
Reading Maclean’s words on the page, it is impossible not to think of him at once, as the young man wading in Montana’s Big Blackfoot River and the retired English professor walking the pathways between ivy covered buildings in Chicago. Always a fisherman, who somehow cast his magical line and hooked the imagination of a young undergrad who had never caught a fish.