Casting into the light Tales of a fishing life

Review by Booklist Review

Messineo has been fishing the coastline of Martha's Vineyard for more than 40 years and has a healthy obsession with striped bass. She made a name for herself among the male-dominated sport, absorbing lessons from a large cast of characters who let her make necessary mistakes and shared countless hours behind the reel and in waders during many frigid nights. While her focus is on surf casting and yearly competitions like the annual Striped Bass & Bluefish Derby, Messineo shares a few details of her upbringing; relationships; marriage to her husband, Tristan; and the adopting of a son with Asperger's syndrome. This is a tender tribute to the New Englanders (men and women) who helped guide her through turbulent years of addiction (drugs, alcohol) to sobriety to becoming a noted surf caster and skilled marine taxidermist. Each anecdote will lure readers into the world of East Coast fishing and Martha's Vineyard culture, making this a must-read for fishers, both hard-core devotees and recreational participants, as well as anyone interested in learning about the sport. An inspirational memoir of one woman's self-discovery while pursuing the elusive catch. Concludes with a chapter of favorite fish recipes.--Brenda Barrera Copyright 2019 Booklist

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.

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Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

Fishing columnist Messineo recounts a life spent fishing on Martha's Vineyard in her delightful debut. Growing up in blue-collar New England mill towns, Messineo was a tomboy who evolved into a hippy in the late 1960s and followed an artsy path until she ended up in Martha's Vineyard, where she eventually elbowed her way into the masculine sport of surfcasting. Chasing monster striped bass and toothy bluefish, she found her calling and redemption in fishing, which saved her from a failed marriage, addiction to drugs and alcohol, and a hand-to-mouth existence (she started off selling her catch to local restaurants). She writes with a beginner's excitement about hooking a fish, such as when she landed a 45-pound bass: "My heart was pounding... my knees were shaking... I set the hook. Luck was with me and I was on again." Messineo walks a tightrope of reporting ("bluefish have large razor-sharp teeth that are set into strong, unyielding jaws") and memoir by giving great insight into the existence of professional anglers and the insular culture of Martha's Vineyard. She ends with a selection of her favorite fish recipes, baked stuff bay scallops and bluefish cakes among them. Messineo's captivating memoir brings a refreshing mix of vulnerability, accessibility, and joy to the fishing genre. (July) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.

(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved

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Review by Library Journal Review

Messineo (former president, Martha's Vineyard Surfcasters Assn.) takes a wide view of surfcasting in this unusual fishing memoir. More than an account of selecting lures, techniques for landing trophy fish, and tales of hard-fought tournaments (although this is certainly covered), the author brings readers into her world of surfcasting for the prized striped bass. Along the way, she recounts her youth, past relationships, and history of substance abuse while describing how she became fascinated with fishing off the shore of Martha's Vineyard. Working as a waitress for 20 years, and as a fish taxidermist for 30 years, she never had enough money for buying or chartering a boat, so she became obsessed with surfcasting. She improvised her own equipment when needed, and sought the advice of local fishermen, eventually becoming a surf-fishing guide and teaching classes on the basics of surfcasting. The dwindling fish population, due to overfishing and changes in the ocean ecosystem, the author writes, has changed the sustainability of commercial and sportfishing. VERDICT Although Messineo's voice is rough around the edges, it adds to the authenticity of her narrative. Readers interested in fishing and ocean ecology as well as women's memoirs will be drawn to this story.--Susan Belsky, Oshkosh P.L., WI

(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

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Review by Kirkus Book Review

A tackle box full of fishing tips, memories, histories, anecdotes, taxidermy, and even recipes from an angler who found focus and purpose for her life among her fellow fishermen on Martha's Vineyard.Though the location suggests a life of leisure among the privileged elite, Messineo endured a hardscrabble upbringing and found herself among the outsider artistic community, working as a waitress and overindulging in drugs and alcohol. Fishing likely saved her life, or at least gave her one, though she doesn't belabor the redemptive spirit as much as the title suggests. The author also doesn't wax too poetic, at least once she moves beyond the introduction, where she describes fishing as "the meditative place similar to where gardeners go when they kneel in the dirt and dig their fingers in the soil.Standing in the surf, casting my lure toward the horizon, I feel like I am the woman I'm meant to be.My life becomes meaningful and I feel part of my surroundings." Comparatively, the rest of the memoir is more nuts-and-bolts description: how and where the author learned to fish, how she went from feeling like an intruder to being accepted as a rare woman in a sport dominated by men, how the ethics and competition of fishing have changedand how cheaters have occasionally rigged that competition and gotten away with it. Messineo writes about lucky sweaters and about how unlucky bananas are for fishermen. She touches on her marriages and the son she and her husband have adopted, and she treads lightly on the schizophrenia of her fishing mentor, who eventually succumbed to suicide. Whereas many fishing memoirs are often more literary, turning that time with nature into a spiritual pilgrimage and the art of fishing into a metaphor for life, this is more about fishing itself, written for readers who like to fish or think they might like to learn.A chronicle of a life in fishing by an author who seems like good company. Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

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1. The Hook   Striped bass, Morone saxatilis, are the most prized migratory game fish in the Northeast. They have earned respect from anglers because of their powerful fighting strength, beauty, and delicious­ness as table fare. They can live for at least forty years and have been known to weigh up to one hundred pounds, although fish more than fifty pounds are scarce. They can grow to more than fifty inches in length. They have a massive strong head and their sides are silver with seven dark longitudinal lines including the lateral line. The striped bass spends most of its adult life in the ocean, migrating north and south seasonally. It ascends to freshwater in the estuaries to spawn in the spring. The juveniles remain in freshwater for a few years before entering the ocean to begin their lifelong annual migration.   In New England, the striped bass has been a valued resource since the region was first settled in the 1600s. The early settlers described the bass as being in immense abundance. One of the first public schools in America was established in Plymouth Colony in 1670 with income from the striped bass fisheries. Today in New England this species is still a highly valued resource.   On Martha's Vineyard, the saltwater fishing season starts in April and runs through November. When the water temperature drops to below forty-five degrees, the striped bass migrate south, following their forage to warmer waters. When the spring water temperatures rise above fifty-five degrees, they return to Vineyard waters.   I enjoy fishing for many species, but striped bass are the fish that first captivated my interest, especially because they are so difficult to find since they are primarily nocturnal feeders. They have a reputa­tion of being finicky and clever fighters. Under the cover of darkness, they will trap bait up against jetties or in between fields of large boulders near the shoreline. Once hooked, they have been known to rub their mouths against the rocks to cut your line. A bluefish is more likely to feed during the daylight hours and in open waters. Bluefish ferociously shake their heads and jump into the air trying to free themselves from a hook. They give the fisherman a hearty tussle; they feel more like fighting a fish of muscle, but not much brain.   A fifty-pound striped bass from the surf has been the dream of many obsessed surf anglers for generations.   ***   I was packing up my gear after a day of fishing for bluefish. Early that morning I had driven my 1979 International Scout from Katama Beach on Martha's Vineyard to Wasque Point on Chappaquiddick Island, over a three-mile barrier beach that connects the two islands.   A woman who looked to be about fifty years old, alone in her four-wheel-drive vehicle, stopped for a chat with one of the fishermen I was standing with at the Wasque Rip. To me, she was elderly. She told us she was heading out to Cape Poge for the night to fish for striped bass. From where we stood, Cape Poge is another seven miles of desolate beach driving on rough-cut roads through the dunes, and before the 1980s there was no beach management at night. It's a barrier beach, Cape Poge bay on one side, Nantucket Sound on the other. I stood wide-eyed.   I was impressed that all she had with her was her fishing gear, a thermos of coffee, and a sandwich. It was unusual to see any woman fishing on the beach. The idea of spending the night alone on a des­olate beach in search of striped bass filled me with anxiety. A shiver of fear ran down my spine, but at the same time I felt excitement and got an adrenaline surge. At that moment, I wanted to be her.   Becoming a respected surf fisherman has been a challenge. My first memories are vague, but I remember wanting to become a great fisherman--not a woman fisherman, separated by gender, but just a respected fisherman. I knew that I was as capable as any man of catching and landing a large fish. It took many years to prove to myself and to the male-dominated fishing community that I could make this come true. I've had many scary nights alone on the beach in search of a huge creature that I longed to know. As I think back over four decades, I'm not sure why I didn't give up after being fright­ened half out of my wits. I've learned that giving up is not something I do.   During the off-season, from December until mid-April, I live a normal life. I work, clean the house and cook dinners, walk the dog, pay my bills, and take care of everyday business. Come April, the first time I get my fishing rod out of its winter storage and stand in the surf up to my thighs to cast, I exhale. It feels as though I have been holding my breath for the last five months. My posture changes, my face relaxes, most of the aches and pains in my body melt away. I feel serene, focused, and safe. I'm home.   It's the meditative place similar to where gardeners go when they kneel in the dirt and dig their fingers in the soil. People who crochet or make quilts go to that place as they sit for hours and sew thousands of tiny stitches. Musicians get lost in the chords and notes, golfers know that place of peace when they chase a little white ball around the greens. My doctor told me that when he skis he no longer thinks of all his responsibilities and his mind becomes calm and quiet.   For me, it's fishing. Standing in the surf, casting my lure toward the horizon, I feel like I am the woman I'm meant to be. As I watch the sun rise or set, rain or shine, all those important thoughts that have been occupying my mind become trivial. I feel small under the light of the moon and a ceiling of bright stars. When I'm fishing, I feel alive and right-size. After four decades, fishing is not something I do, it is part of my being. It's who I am. My life becomes meaningful and I feel part of my surroundings.   I never thought about fishing from a boat. I worked as a waitress for twenty years and then as a fish taxidermist for the next thirty, and on my wages, purchasing a boat was out of the question. When I first got interested in surf fishing, buying a rod and a few lures was challenging enough.   In 1912, Charles Church caught an International Game Fish Asso­ciation (IGFA) world-record striped bass weighing seventy-three pounds on Cuttyhunk Island, Massachusetts. In 1967, Charlie Cinto, from Plymouth, Massachusetts, tied that record. Both fish were taken from a boat in the waters around Cuttyhunk. In 1981, fourteen years later, another seventy-three-pound striped bass caught from a beach on Cape Cod by Tony Stetzko Jr. tied that record.   Al McReynolds from New Jersey broke all those records in 1982 with a seventy-eight-pound, eight-ounce striped bass caught from a jetty in Atlantic City, New Jersey. That fish held until Greg Myerson caught an eighty-one-pound, fourteen-ounce striped bass in 2011 from his boat in Westbrook, Connecticut. Greg's fish is the current world-record striped bass.   I know that as a surfcaster my odds of ever seeing a fish close to sixty or seventy pounds are slim, but stories like these keep me hop­ing because you never know when the fish of a lifetime might come to you. Excerpted from Casting into the Light: Tales of a Fishing Life by Janet Messineo All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.

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