Special K

I was tagged by Amanda and feel obliged to respond* since it's book-related.

1. Grab the book closest to you.
2. Open to page 123, go down to the fifth sentence.
3. Post the text of next 3 sentences on your blog.
4. Name of the book and the author.
5. Tag three people.

"I set the hook. But as the rod bends hard, I know before I see it that this is no chub: this is one of Paul's Lahontan pets. It's not a leaping fish, but makes several strong runs."

The excerpt is from a book entitled My Story As Told By Water by David James Duncan. I wanted to cheat and use something that is likely on my bookshelf at home. Hell, wanted to cheat and use a different line from what is a beautiful book. You see, I'm at work and surrounded by only the geekiest titles. I could have also chosen to excerpt something from The Eternal Frontier by Tim Flannery, The Environmental Dictionary by Kemp, Trout, Trout, Trout: A Fish Chant by Sayre (children's book), or Trout and Salmon of North America by Tomelleri. Even my bag has a less than salacious reading selection. I've got the latest copy of Bust magazine, the Lonely Planet guide to San Francisco, and a research book entitled Symbols of Judaism**. Blog worthy? Doubtful.

That said, ignore the excerpt listed above and pick up a novel or My Story As Told By Water by David James Duncan. The man is truly a visionary and poet. Never before has the writing of anyone actually made me want to fish like his words do. Despite the titles on my desk, I don't even like fish. Duncan makes it a religious experience.

"I saw that, at a certain time of year, the rhythm of the river becomes impossible for these creatures to resist; that the mere act of swimming, mere caress of cold water, becomes a long slow copulation; that their entire upstream journey is an arduous act of sex. The dip in the gravel, nest of eggs, spraying of milt, was just the culmination of that weeks-long act. I looked again at the mountains veeing down toward the water. The gravel beneath us was made of fragments of those mountains, the current flowing past made of their melted snow. The brown trout I held was making love to the mountains and snow."

*I also only respond to tags from special people because most of you know how anti-meme I am.
**From my visit to the Jewish cemetary.