A lovely ramble with a fascinating old gentleman, quaint, charming, sunny and a true picture of one aspect of a bygone age and of the way our great-great grandfathers talked and lived. The fishing lore and natural history are hopelessly out of date but who cares? Has been in print for centuries and deservedly so.

I'm flyfisher in Korea. I think there is no necessity for talking about this book. Because this is so famous book to fishermans, as you know. Specially, this paperback edition is good for your wallet, with no omission. In a word, Full content, Good price!

If you don't know about this famous book by the inimitable Walton, you have a lot to look forward to. Purporting to be an account of a 5-day gentlemen's fishing idyll (when gentlemen were gentlemen, and the English countryside was at once bountiful and near to hand), it is in fact a deeply engaging nostalgia trip into a never-never land of pastoral bliss which has no exact parallel in world literature.

To say "evocative of simpler, happier times" is to barely hint at the near-mystical fragrance of this enchanting volume. Three high-spirited protagonists ("Piscator", "Venator", and "Auceps"), devoted to three rival outdoor avocations (fishing, hunting, and falconing, respectively), meet on a "fine, fresh May morning"; ramble across the countryside in search of fine fishing and hearty times; sing, banter, and versify; recount ancient wisdom (of often dubious validity) regarding the habits and temper of over a dozen local fish species; and encounter a sampling of innkeepers, milkmaids, gypsies, and various other idealized rural types. This is a refuge book for quiet evenings, one of those unaccountably transporting narratives which no charmed reader has ever wanted to reach the end.

Some history: stolen in parts from precedents written as far back as 1450, Walton's work is nearly as early as it could be and still be readable without a line-by-line explanatory gloss ("compleat" is about as arcane as it gets). First published in 1653, there have been well over 100 editions in print. Some of the earlier ones contain Lang's 28-page introduction to the author's life, the structure of the work, and its publishing history, all of which is superbly sensitive and informative. Noteworthy are the 80+ illustrations produced by Sullivan (again, available in some of the older editions and their reprints), which are unselfconsciously exquisite -- naively rendered country scenes and character sketches; finely wrought studies of dry flies and of the various species of fish mentioned in the book; and ornately framed images of famous fishermen "taken" from the evidently superb engraved portraits of Major's 1824 edition.

The author was a minor legend in his own time. Held in the highest regard by all who knew him, this "excellent old man" suffered many tragedies throughout his long life (from the public murder of his beloved king to various family deaths and personal debilities), but he never lost his rare sweetness of temper. He wrote numerous other treatises, but "The Compleat Angler" early on rendered him a literary immortal.

I have had this book beside me for more than 20 years, not for its guidance about fishing (though this is pleasant), but for the simple, unaffected but eloquent beauty of its 17th century prose. A lovely, idealized, Arcadian sort of England comes to life, and it is a very nice place in which to dip your mind a while.

for this book,devotions upon emergent occasions and deaths duel has already been so good. Wow! what more can i possibly say....alot. firstly, fascinating stuff. it was really great and jesus Christ we love him, John Donne? WOW?!! what do you think? read it really it is very nicely proportionate for me the dimensions where spectacular and also a very nice size, John Donne? Where in the world is John Donne when we need him now....bye John Donne?

I must admit that I bought this book solely for the most famous of Donne's Meditations - Nunc lento sonitu dicunt, morieris, AKA "no man is an island". I was unaware of the circumstances which surrounded Donne's writing of the Meditations. He had taken ill with a strong and high fever, and believed that he was dying. The meditations trace his spiritual journey through his illness, starting with the beginning (The first alteration, the first grudging, or the sickness), through attempts to treat him (The physician is sent for), to treatments (They apply pigeons, to draw the vapors from the head - yuck!), until he comes to terms spiritually with his fate (From the bells of the church adjoining, I am daily remembered of my burial in the funerals of others).

These meditations make a fascinating contrast with the other work by Donne in this book: Death's Duel. This was the last sermon that Donne ever preached, one month before he died. Not only did he know that the end was near, but so did his audience, who called it "the doctor's funeral sermon". It is interesting to see how Donne's view of death had changed in the years between the two works. By the time Death's Duel was written, Donne's mother, wife, and six of his twelve children were already dead.

In spite of the fact that Donne wrote over three hundred years ago, I am still influenced by his writings. Although I am not Christian, I agree with many of Donne's thoughts on how people interact with each other, and how we effect the lives of others, though we might not realise it. "Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind." Donne, though dead, is still involved in mankind, and this book aptly displays it.

Stanwood's reputation is high amongst students of seventeenth-century literature, and deservedly so. This book provides an engaging critical survey of Walton's principal works and their place in English literature. The prose is admirably clear and direct. Altogether, Stanwood provides a solid resource on Walton, and a valuable addition to the less-than-vast Walton bibliography.

This book tries very hard to be "deep" and insightful; it is neither. This is not a book about the human condition; it is a book about a privileged young man fishing with privileged old people.

Prosek does lovely paintings, but the bottom line is that his writing lacks maturity. He violates many rules that should have been drilled into his head during "freshman comp" class. He doesn't show, he tells. He overuses flowery adjectives. And he can be melodramatic to the extreme.

There is no shortage of books about flyfishing that are filled with overblown prose, books that try to make flyfishing something it is not. This book is one of them.

Comparisons to Izaak Walton abound. This gets old after a while. So do the many "characters" Prosek fishes with, who we are told are very interesting and "quite delightful," but most seemed to be pompous, bland individuals.

For some reason, the trip itself bothered me. He got to fish many rivers only because he was a young man of privilege. Everyone he meets is awed by him, mainly because he is an Ivy Leaguer with the right connections. He then makes sure we know that the class-obsessed people he meet complimented him on his "class" and "character." He seems to revel in this, never examining his privilege. Many times I wanted him to quit rhapsodizing over trout and start examining his own life.

I was very disappointed in Prosek as a writer. It lacks the depth of a good travel book (like Fen Montaigne's "Reeling in Russia"). And he can't compare to sporting writers like McGuane, Bodio, Tom McIntyre and Robert F. Jones, all writers whose books reflect fierce joy, love, pain, conflict, and ambiguity.

I understand Prosek is now writing about love. Be very afraid.

Let's face it, this is not a very good book. There is a tendency among those who fly fish to readily accept any ink put to paper as elegaic, contemplative and downright superior. Young Mr. Prosek is a fortunate lad, having pulled the wool over the eyes of the academic sachems at Yale to bless his fly fishing vacation in England as the subject of his thesis. He wraps the proposal in the esteemed pages of Izaak Walton's The Compleat Angler, the most purchased and least read book in the history of print. Prosek forces us to wade through a number of English rivers and some tedious prose, and in this respect he does resemble Walton. His constant comparisons of himself to Walton tend to bog down his writing. He ruminates on how he is standing in the same water that Walton once stood, the worst kind of conceit. You don't even stand in the same river yourself when you happen to be standing in one! The only redeeming feature of this volume is that it is beautiful book, with Prosek's watercolors generously peppered throughout. He is a gifted painter and his first book is one of my favorites. This volume, however, has more of the red herring about it than the noble trout. I admire a good con job, I just hate it when it's pulled on me.

Having read Prosek's other two books (and having thoroughly enjoyed them, and given copies as gifts), I really look forward to reading this one - long anticipated. This young man has unusual talents, and (at least as of a couple of years ago) possesses another rare quality today - humility and politeness.