Then it moves…the whole of its dull surface traversed by the ripples of what Jacob understands are great muscles flexing and releasing, and there’s no doubt this is alive” (145). He presents us with such grand visions as: “For a moment, Jacob’s mind insists that what arcs out of the water is an island, because there is no living creature that big in all of creation.

Speaking of liquid images, I wish the strange other world Langan attaches to our own had been more thoroughly dived into. The picture fascinated me I guess because it was so close to showing you what it was, so close to revealing its meaning” (41). Langan keeps good control over its pace, even when he seems to be pointing right to it: “The canvas was such a mess of shades and shadows that I half-suspected it was some kind of giant Rorschach Test… there was something about it, this quality, that I don’t know if I have the words for. The foreshadowing in The Fisherman is frequent and subtle. He also very gently lets grief seep in before his characters declare it out loud. He teases out the atmosphere of the forests, rivers, and streams, captures the fragrance of the woods and the qualities of light. In addition to creating a great character, Langan also imbues The Fisherman with a great sense of place-the Catskill Mountains of upstate New York are a vital presence in the novel. In particular, it lacks the distinctive voice Langan gives to Abe. While this second part is nearly stand-alone and full of rich images, it eats up the middle 150 pages of the 266 page novel without hitting the same emotional tone as the introduction. However, that content does allow Abe’s narrative to be something more than an intriguing novella.Īfter Abe sets the scene, the second, longer part of the novel is a several-times secondhand recounting of events that occur well before the frame story. While he is presented as the primary, first-person focus of The Fisherman, Abe’s life shortly becomes the frame for another tale that is a thinly disguised, massive exposition dump. But Abe and his experiences are made to serve double-duty. Abe’s tale ventures from his personal history into local history, then local folklore, and then deep into the occult and supernatural. He is the novel’s widowed narrator, recollecting why he began fishing and what eventually made him stop. Told in three parts, The Fisherman begins by introducing the languid, convincingly-realized Abe. While not perfectly balanced between those points, The Fisherman is a well-written and emotionally engaging work. Unexpectedly, the story manages to be both intimate in its telling and sweeping in its possible implications.

The Fisherman by John Langan is a quietly disturbing novel of loss, black sorcery, and regret.

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