by John Langan

Published: 2016

Genre: Cosmic Horror/Fantasy Thriller

Grief is not logical. Even when it knows better, it still wants one more chance to get back what was lost.

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The Fisherman was a very good book and a strong 4-star read for me.

The opening hooked me right away — hook, line, and sinker. I was invested in Abe and Dan, their grief, their fishing trips, and the way this quiet story about two damaged men slowly turned into something much bigger, darker, and weirder.

It gave me Pet Sematary vibes with grief and the dangerous wish to get back what loss has taken. It also reminded me of Stranger Things in the way the normal world seems to have another darker world underneath it — except here it feels older, colder, and more cosmic. Less kids-on-bikes, more “oh no, the universe has teeth.”

My only real issue was the long story-within-the-story in the middle. I understand why it’s there, and by the end I saw why it mattered, but while reading it, I kept thinking, “God, I hope this ends soon.” It pulled me away from Abe and Dan, which was the part I cared about most.

That said, once the book returned to Abe and Dan, it came alive again. The ending brought everything together beautifully. I’d recommend it, with the caveat that the middle tale may drag. Stick with it, because it pays off.

SPOILERS BELOW

The image that stuck with me most was the diner painting of fish fishing for humans. At first, it almost seems like a joke, but by the end, that image becomes the whole book.

Abe and Dan think they are going fishing. They are not. They are the ones being fished for.

Grief is the bait. The dead are the lure. The men are not the hunters. They are the prey.

That’s where Pet Sematary really hit for me. Dan gets what he wants — or what looks like what he wants — but his wife and kids are not really his wife and kids. They are masks. The horror is not just that the dead come back wrong. It’s that grief makes people want them back badly enough to ignore every warning sign screaming, “Hey buddy, terrible idea.”

Abe almost falls for it too with Marie. He knows something is wrong, but he still wants her. That’s what makes the book work. Grief is not logical. Even when it knows better, it still wants one more chance to get back what was lost.

The boots in the river were my aha moment. Abe’s boots fill with water and drag him down, and he has to kick them off to survive. That felt like the whole book in one image: whatever you cannot let go of becomes the thing that sinks you.

And that final twist — holy cow. The storm opens the gate again, and Abe sees Marie in the floodwater, but also the boy and girl he and Marie might have had. The black ocean does not just hold the dead. It holds the lives that never happened.

So yes, the middle tale cost it a star. But the ending proved why the tale had to be there. Strange, sad, cosmic, fishy nightmare of a book — and I mean that as a compliment.