A Dream of Jewelled Fishes: Reflections on Angling [Hardcover]

If I was asked to categorise my enthusiasms and outlook they would fall on the countryman's side of the fence rather than that of the townie's. My professional, hobbyist and leisure activities would all predominantly be there too but none of them have ever involved fishing. So it was with a sense of random experimentation that I opted to buy this book on the strength of the poetic title and rather beautiful cover. Shallow, I know, but sometimes one just needs to freewheel a little through life. Anyway it wasn't that much of a risk really; a book which would inevitably explore the countryside and perhaps offer some insight into what happens with all that intriguing and beautiful gear that fisherman tote about cannot be all that much of a gamble.
Another reviewer has said that this is not a book for the non-angler but I strongly disagree with that. It's true there are one or two words of jargon and unexplained technicalities but none of these detract from the masterpiece that John Aston paints with a style of writing that nudges towards Shakespearean invention with phrases like "...fields studded with hawthorns, each one champagned in the yellow-white blossom of spring." Even as I write the word champagne in verb form my spellchecker is protesting. Wonderful. But then the whole book is hung on a framework of invention, amusement and irreverence, firmly held together by an adoration of the rural environment and an honest hunting instinct that profoundly respects its prey. In essence this is the story of a fisherman's evolution from novice to connoisseur and it is one which easily transposes that experience to the imaginary self. As someone who only once in his life unproductively dipped a hook into water at the age of nine the magic in these pages transported me into John Aston's waders and gave me his eyes.
If I have to complain at all then it would not be about the peppering of Latin within the text but the off piste observations Aston offers on topics which are barely, if at all, related to fishing. We are all, of course, entitled to our opinion but it jangles the nerves a tad when one is unjustifiably confronted with misplaced and badly informed views on alleged anthropogenic global warming or the illogical and disingenuous equivalence of patriotism with xenophobia. I find it extremely irritating when bleeding heart liberals look at a perfectly ordinary, common ice floe (not "ice flow" Mr. Aston) and see it as the harbinger of doom, or look at the Cross of St. George and see a swastika. These are both examples of facile, ill-conceived, four-pint philosophy. By the time Aston is blaming Margaret Thatcher for the sterility of the fishing experience offered by commercial fisheries I become thoroughly convinced that I should not listen to him on anything other than that which is the declared subject of his delicious book. Happily, John Aston and I at least share a contempt for the nanny state.
Having turned the last page I felt that twinge of regret that accompanies the departure of an old companion. Whilst I was still reading the book I bought another paperback copy for a friend who has already started to dabble in the sport. He immediately pushed it to the top of his reading list. I am now going to pass my copy on to my father-in-law but have replaced it with a hardback copy which will live on my library bookshelf to be revisited at some later date. Next to it are some other newly arrived residents which will inform me about the art and technicalities of fishing. And if in the near future I should be found by the water's edge or in a boat fumbling with a shiny new rod then that will be entirely the result of reading this engrossing and inspirational book.

As an omnivorous fisherman with sixty years of happy recollections of fishing in all sorts of places for all sorts of fish I found this book a joy. The author sets out to deliver the feel of being a fisherman and doesn't spend much, if any, time telling me how to do it. And he succeeds admirably. His humour and occasional sparkles of philosophy have a touch of Gierach and oher successful authors of that ilk. It is, of course, a mark of such an author that although he professes not to teach you anything it would take a fool not to learn some secrets of success from his writing.

Another reviewer has suggested that a fisherman already knows what being a fisherman feels like and that therefore the book has little to offer. I find it hard to believe that a true fisherman, one who gains joy from the recollected smell of a lake at dawn, of the taste of salt on your lips, of the sound of oystercatchers on a northern riverbank in spring, of the call of a cuckoo across watermeadows in May, of stinging fingers on a winters' evening, would not find much to identify with and to muse over in this book. Give me more of it.

A very happy book - I commend it to you.

This is a truly wonderful fishing book. John Aston has the style of a Chris Yates - but writes at greater pace with one story quickly following another. It is not a book for beginners who want dreary how to catch information but for the more advanced angler it contains many reflections that will strike a chord and provide wonderful entertainment.

Aston is opinionated and at times perhaps inconsistent but it is a real pleasure to read someone who doesn't sit on the fence. His real enthusiasm is river trout fishing - which he writes about in extraordinary depth but he writes lovingly about barbel, chub, tench and carp. Thus he encompasses the great variety of fishing available in these islands.

He is quite rude about the modern angling scene - unfairly so perhaps - but thoughtful anglers will see where he is coming from. In short the book is thoughtful, perceptive and stylish: a modern angling classic.