We seem to be living in the midst of a flyfishing renaissance and it has spilled over into tying; - similarly, we have apparently regressed a full century, and the notions and teachings of George Kelson are very much alive. Whenever I go out to a river (frequently, these days), I see a collection of characters who would be very much at home in the late Nineteenth Century. Why, they're even toting Spey rods, heavy Hardy by DC Taupo reels or imitations, and double-tapered lines of extraordinary length. The flies are right out of Kelson's The Salmon Fly, down to the wings married with exotic feathers. (Brother, can you spare some bustard?).

So it seems only right and natural that there be a rebirth of books on the salmon fly. Some are old, and some are newly written for these times. (A few might argue stodgily that we have no need of new books on the salmon fly or on flyfishing for salmon and steelhead in general, since the old ones do quite well. I am not wholly unsympathetic to this point of view.)

Two publishers are capitalizing (I used the word advisedly) on this rebirth in learning. They are doing so by republishing the great books of the past. Paul Schmookler is advising John Culler of Camden, South Carolina, on what is important and what is not, and Paul's precision and skills are being well utilized. Caller has reprinted first Kelson's The Salmon Fly and now Blacker and Francis. More are in the works. He has plans to put the badly needed Eric Taverner back into print. And Frank Amato some time ago reprinted "Jock Scott's" Greased Line Fishing for Salmon – with an introduction by Bill McMillan and instructions on fishing for steelhead that Bill Bakke made well-known through personal instruction with both McMillan and Trey Combs. The book is still in print.

Also notable is the effort of Justin Knowles in Britain. I've mentioned his edition of Kelson, plus the handsome Land and Water Salmon Flies, also by Kelson. So I was excited when I learned that Mr. Knowles was publishing the intricate Traherne patterns. And I had seen advertisements for the extraordinary The Salmon flies of Major John Popkin Traherne (1826-1901), published by The Complete Sportsman in Millis, Maine. But at $375, it was beyond my price range. So Knowles's book at $73 USA seemed a bargain. Alas, it proved a disappointment, and no bargain at all, for it is largely a repeat of the patterns already listed in Kelson and sorely lacking in gnold illustrations-including those quaint colored drawings that both Kelson's have and which look unlike any flies that have gone out into the world.

When I mentioned this to Knowles, he said the book did not pretend to be anything other than what it was – a listing of the patterns already found in Kelson's magazine writings (and later in his books) and attributed there to Traherne. This is true. Yet I had hoped for more.

The introduction to the Traherne by David Burnette is more than a disappointment; it is an insult. Traherne was a superb flyfisher, as well as tyer, and Kelson acknowledged as much. But we do not raise Traherne's reputation by dragging down Kelson's with remarks like "the arch hustler and windbag George Kelson, who wouldn't have recognized bad form if you'd have shoved it up his nose. . . ." This is uncalled for, unnecessary, and is not responsible writing in a book about Traherne, or elsewhere; I can think of a different aperture where one might shove a copy of this book, one which seems to be Burnette's chief, identifying characteristic. But now, I'm playing his game, and not my own.

Hoping for more and getting it is precisely what Knowles offers in so many of his other fine books that I do not want to slight him here because of this meager one. A friend lent me his copy of E. J. Malone's Irish Salmon Flies. It was published in 1993 by Knowles in his The Flyfisher's Classic Library, and is an updated version of Malone's 1984 instant classic.. Green cloth, with a dark green leather spine and gold stamp, it lacks the customary marbled end papers and substitutes rich, bright Kelly green, but the paper is excellent, the inking unniggardly, and the color plates first-rate. The book sells for $100 and is probably worth it. If the flies seem dark, it is not because of bad, photographic lighting but simply because Irish flies are dark. The Michael Rogan series of salmon flies was tied by Frankie McPhillips on contemporary Addington and Hutchinson Hooks (Partridge) and are good examples of the PryceTannatt school of tying. They are a bit shaggy and fishy as hell. They make me want to sit down and tie similar flies, and go right out and fish them.

Knowles is doing some good work on his side of the Atlantic. His list grows and now numbers 50 great angling book reprints. Most are from Britain, which is understandable. It was there our literature started. It is what we have in common with those on the other side of the big drink. Knowles acknowledges what might be called the American division in fishing literature. For a long time now, we have stood on our own two feet. First it chronicled flyfishing for salmon in New Brunswick, Labrador, and Maine. Today its territory is vast.

Canada and Britain, besides being mutual antagonists, are natural allies when the going gets tough. And we Americans have much to share with both countries, even though we often pretend otherwise. Knowles surprisingly includes on his list that American world-traveler, Zane Grey, or at least a book about him. Likewise, he has published Charles Eliot Goodspeed's, Angling in America., which he thoughtfully sent me unbound signatures of, thinking I'd be interested. I was; it proved, for one thing, he was more knowledgeable about our literature than I was about his, for I had never heard of Goodspeed, and might have thought it a car-racing term. While not pertaining exclusively to salmon fly fishing, this largely unknown 1939 tome contains the soul and substance of fishing by every known means (seine, gaff, jig, bait, fly, etc.) in the United States. And what a privileged, motley crew we were and are. Just as we killed off the American bison and the passenger pigeon (among many other species), we did our damnedest to liquidate the entire fish population of America, as though it were the arch enemy himself. There were no closed seasons or bag limits. A man killed all he could, then tried for more.

Private clubs such as the Schuykill Fishing Company set records for unprecedented slaughter. Similar to flyfishing clubs of today, they existed mainly to eat, drink heavily, and exchange deadpan lies. But the bags they brought in! Shameful, even by standards other than today's catch-and-release dictum. A man and his buddies might catch so many fish in a night (for night fishing was best) that he needed a rig to pull them all home-where I suppose most went to fertilize the garden.

Goodspeed was a historian-a pedantic and careful man who documented the past through exhaustive research and footnoting. His narrative will lead to where many of us have no urge or need to go. Yet to fish intelligently today, we must keep in mind the lessons of the past. They are largely ones of gluttony. I am grateful to Justin Knowles for pointing out to me this critical aspect of the American past. To the salmon-fly tier and fisher, parts of the book form an important historical record of material difficult to track down elsewhere, so it is all that most of us will ever know of the past we share. As the book comes closer to its date of publication, it tends to err; many books do. For instance, a number of pages are devoted to E. R. Hewitt and his Secrets of the Salmon, but where in the world is George LaBranche? He is nowhere to be found. What is needed is for someone to bring Goodspeed up to date.

A lot has happened in fifty years. I am not the one for the job. Any volunteers?