FEW things please anglers more than discovering new water with bountiful fish. Similarly, few things please readers more than discover- ing an unfamiliar writer with narrative chops. Arnie Sabatelli was unknown to me, but after reading the first few pages of Two-ThirdsWater, overcome with the same jolt of excitement I get when stumbling on a promising new fishing spot.This is one of the most compelling contemporary fishing books I’ve read over the past three decades.

An avid fly fisherman, outdoorsman and musician, Sabatelli retired from teaching to devote himself to fishing and writing, after contributing to publications such as Flyfish Journal,Fly Fisherman and Fly Rod & Reel.The academy’s loss is angling literature’s gain. Subtitled Essays on the Fly-Fishing Life, this debut collection of 26 chapters heralds a writer with fresh things to say to those who insist there is more to fishing than, well, landing fish.

Sabatelli knows something that few angling writers seem to grasp: there are only so many ways of writing about the practicalities and pragmatics of fishing.Writers who confine themselves to the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat eventually find the creative pool exhausted. Consequently, they either repeat themselves or unintentionally mimic others.This is why so much angling journalism falls prey to a cookie-cutter redundancy. In contrast, casting one’s imagination towards the intangible, indefinable, ineffable aspects of fishing – the magic and the mystery that has preoccupied writers since at least as far back as Izaak Walton – is unique and limitless.

Although he doesn’t mention Walton by name, Sabatelli embodies and reflects a couple of the 17th century writer’s fundamental concepts about angling:That it’s a synthesis of “action” and “contemplation” as well as an “art…somewhat like poetry”.

His first couple of essays apply equally to fishing and writing. In Seeing Them, the process of analysing literary works is evoked when he describes seeing fish by “finding a new way to look. Shadow, light, looking past, beyond, through, seeing toward something else.”

The connection between angling and writing is explicit in Voices, when he observes: ‘The waters we fish have voices like one’s writing voice.”The key is “immersion’ which is necessary to ‘getting to know a place deeply, in a way that non-fishing observers can’t’.” He concludes: “The difference is like browsing the shelves of a book store versus spending an entire day reading in your favourite chair.”

These essays make a case for Sabatelli’s way of seeing fish and hearing water as a means, at least potentially, of enlarging and enriching the angling experience.This doesn’t mean an English degree is required to appreciate Two-Thirds Water. Far from it.You can enjoy the essays on a literal, factual level. After all, he’s a power- fully descriptive writer.

Moreover, his experience over many years on fresh and saltwater, chasing a wide variety of gamefish close to home (Michigan, Atlantic seaboard, Adirondacks) and in faraway places, (including Mexico, his second home) equip him to write knowledgeably and entertaining- ly about all things piscatorial.

However, if you happen to write, paint, play music or practise any art form, even as a hobby, or if you’re a serious reader, viewer or listener, not to mention a gardener, hiker, canoeist, kayaker or birder, it’s possible to access a deeper level in Sabatelli’s creative water column, which is most accurately described as poetic.

Sabatelli is a passionate and perspicacious literary critic.While The Fish in the Log is an astute analysis of Big Two-Hearted River, Fishing with Brad,a Tribute is by turns elegiac, ruminative and vulnerable. Focusing on his brother Brad, it includes others who played significant roles in Sabatelli’s life who have long since made their last cast.

Following in the noble tradition of memento mori in angling literature, the essay is devoid of maudlin sentimentality. Rather, it speaks to Sabatelli’s intense love for his brother, the enduring pain of loss and the sour taste of regret that comes from not doing differently the things that bound them together– including a love of fishing shared since childhood.

“Reflecting on Brad as a fisherman is to reflect on Brad as a human being, on what he was and what he meant to me, to so many of us.”There really is more to it than catching fish.

Rob Reid