
Thomas McGuane, the acclaimed author of “The Sporting Club,” thinks fiction set in the American West could stand to lose some of its ranching clichés. The novelist, a consummate outdoorsman and devoted fisherman, met up with the writer Callan Wink, who recently published his first book of stories and works as a fishing guide on the Yellowstone River. McGuane and Wink discussed the state of the short story and the late author Jim Harrison, a mutual friend, all while sitting in a fifteen-foot drift boat. And, yes, they caught a few fish, too.
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A
This is a special podcast edition of the New Yorker Radio Hour. Today we're sharing one of our favorite summer stories from 2016.
B
I'm gonna put this in real quick. And.
C
This week's show comes with a warning. If a beautiful afternoon on a beautiful river sounds good to you, it just might make you jealous. This is the New Yorker Radio Hour, and I'm David Remnick. Today we're going out on the Yellowstone river, some of the best trout water in the country, with two great writers, an old master and a rising star. Thomas McGuane the Elder by 40 some years, has written novels, screenplays, short stories, and some great essays about the outdoors. The very first book by Callan Wink, a collection of stories, came out just this year. In season, he works as a fly fishing guide in Livingston, Montana. And on one of his rare days off this summer, Callan took Tom out on the river.
D
Callan, have you got any stories coming up? I really love the two that I read in the New Yorker.
B
Oh, thanks.
D
And you young whippersnappers who go on. And it worked for you because you did a great job. But I just hate seeing these really good short story writers turning into novelists.
B
Well, I'm trying to do that, and it's a struggle.
D
Well, you know, the reason I feel that way is that the American short story is getting radically better than it's ever been, and the novel's getting radically worse than it's ever been.
B
Yeah. Well, do you like to read short stories?
D
I do, yeah.
B
Okay.
D
But I give you a better answer to that. I can do it if I'm kind of doing it all the time.
B
Yeah.
D
But if I do it sporadically, they just don't involve me enough.
B
Yeah, that's kind of how. I mean, I enjoy writing them. I don't particularly enjoy reading them. You know, you want to write what you read. Like, I like to read novels. So I really want to write a good one.
D
Yeah.
B
And so I'm gonna keep plugging away at it, I guess. So I do. But you can get in the front there, Tom.
D
Here. More or less.
B
Yeah.
D
You're in a modest mess. What do we got here? Oh, good.
B
So you've got the big dry and then the big nymph below it.
D
Okay.
B
So.
D
All right.
B
Should be fun to cast for you.
D
That's great.
C
Tom Egwene and Callan Wink are separated by more than four decades in age, but they've got quite a bit in common. They both grew up in Michigan. They both worked as fishing guys. They both Adopted Montana as their home and they both write fiction, thankfully for the New Yorker. And right now they're Both in a 15 foot drift boat with a couple of fly rods and a box of tackle, which sounds like a little bit of heaven to me right about now.
D
Oop, I don't know what that was.
B
That one looked kind of good. We're not exactly lighting them up here this morning, Tom.
D
Is that right?
B
I can't believe we haven't gotten a eat on that nymph yet. If we go another half mile with no action, we're gonna have to reconsider our lives here.
D
Sort of sounds like fishing to me. How is, how's the fishing been this last early season? Just really getting going.
B
Yeah, just been getting going. It cleared early this year. We didn't have our normal long runoff. You see the water still, it's still a little up and slightly cloudy here. The Yellowstone is interesting. And that it doesn't. It never runs perfectly clear like some other rivers you see. Because it is the longest undammed river in the lower 48. I think it always carries some sediment in the flow.
D
With lots of head headwaters that can blow out individually. They all have a little different color too.
B
Yeah, that's exactly right. When it's brown that comes from the Lamar when it's just kind of milky green. That's from the gardener generally. Okay, so.
D
Oh, we got a little, little split.
B
Shot, little, little rubber leg wooly bugger thing. They were eating that yesterday pretty well again. We were fishing it under an indicator yesterday. So a little different presentation. But if you just kind of cast towards the bank and give it a slow strip, we'll see what happens.
D
We'll do.
B
So what are you working on now?
D
Well, I'm pulling together my collected stories for the fall. Gonna publish them in the spring. And I've started a novel. It's been kind of an interesting. You know, at this age I probably don't really want to get obsessed with something for three or four years. You know, there's too many. I like the world too much.
B
Yeah.
D
And. But I'm sort of heading that way and I've started this novel that sort of combines some of the stuff about my life when I was living in Key west and guiding part time. And it was an unbelievable era for those of us who were there then and then. I really never written much about my family, you know, or my growing up and stuff like that. I've sort of found a way to include it in that story. I come from a remarkably dysfunctional Family, and they were so spectacularly dysfunctional. I never could figure out how to write about them. It's not close enough, is it?
B
No, it's perfect.
D
Oh, is it? Yeah.
B
Get in there too far, it's just gonna get snagged. That one might have been a trout. I'd take a white fish right now, Tom. I mean, that's where I'm at right now.
D
You're worried about it more than I am. I could. I'm just thinking about writing. I have to make sure I pay attention. Are you.
B
Are you on the Everyday Everyday program right now?
D
No, not really. Pretty good.
B
Yeah. I feel like when I have a good stint of doing it a lot, then I. Then it just all becomes easier, you know?
D
That's absolutely right.
B
Taking a. A month off like I basically do. Guiding even a couple months, then it's just a torturous process to get back anything in shape for writing me.
D
I think, you know, that that is the best reason for having regular work hours, is just to not beat yourself up when you try to start up again.
B
Yeah. Yeah. I guess when it comes down to it, there does. There does need to be. There it is. Oh, man.
D
I fired one off.
B
Heartbreak.
D
That was a little guy, I think.
B
Yeah. That's what we'll tell ourselves.
D
We want anything, though, right?
B
Yeah. And then do you ever just get one that just. It just comes out like. It comes out dead easy. Almost finished, you know?
D
Yep.
B
And then you're like, how did that happen? How can I do that again?
D
I know. Yeah. Well, you just keep maneuvering, hoping you'll get your head in a place to do that. I always think of this thing I remember reading long ago. It's been in my mind a lot where Chekhov is off in his summer dacha and he's writing a story and he's almost done with it. This thunderstorm comes up, rainy thunderstorm blows all his papers out into the yard and rains on them. And he was nearly finished with the story. And his house guest said, you know, it's not a big problem. You just finish, just go while it's fresh in your mind, go back and write it again. Chekhov said, I don't remember anything about it. I thought, that's really a true story?
B
Oh, yeah, yeah. I mean, I've had one kind of disappear into the nether world of the Internet or, you know, my computer gets a goodbye. Right. It was just like, I was pissed about that for days.
D
I'm sure. Well, you know, John Cheever said that all fiction writing is Basically improvisatory. And I agree with that, you know.
B
Yeah. It seems like quite often when I get to the end of a first draft, I have to go back and, like, redo the whole beginning because it go. You know, it was starting off in a certain way. Like I had an idea.
D
Right.
B
And then. Yeah. A page or two in the story is completely.
D
It almost makes you feel. You don't. You know, you don't need an idea. You just need to go to work.
B
Yeah. Yeah. And that's kind of what I. I strive to do. I'm not always good at it, but just starting with something.
D
I think the kind of waiting for a good idea is one of the many subtle forms procrastination takes. Or not even waiting for one, or just. Even the belief that you need one is in itself procrastination.
B
Yeah, that's true. And that's what makes. When you're not writing, makes you feel so guilty. I'm speaking of me personally.
D
No, I know exactly what you mean. Well, at 76, that's exactly how I feel. If I don't write, I just feel like my life is, you know, just. I'm throwing it away.
B
That's amazing. You still have the.
D
Yeah. Maybe more.
B
Learn to do it. I mean.
D
Yeah, I really do. Maybe more than ever.
B
I hope I still have some of that left.
D
Oh, there's. We'd had enough, hadn't we, Keller?
B
I was just gonna sit here until you hooked one, basically, so I'm glad it happened eventually.
D
The. That's a nice fish.
B
Real nice. They're strong down here. I mean, it's a little rainbow, but.
D
I know plenty of. Plenty of them.
B
Yeah, they're helpful.
D
Boogie. They're strong down here. They must not. They must not have learned the catch and release routine here.
B
No, they're. I mean, there's not a mark on this fish.
D
Yeah. Pretty good one. Thank you. The main. You know, I've been living on a ranch of some kind or another for over 40 years and for a long time running a lot of cattle. And. And if you were in the house, you were. You were a shirker.
B
Yeah.
D
You know. You know, you don't. You know, I would sneak to be. To do my writing where no one could catch me at it. It was like I had a. Some kind of sick masturbating habit or something, you know, And I think that was one of the reasons I got so into kind of rodeo type stuff, you know, it was like, build up my legitimacy with these people. I could say, oh, he's in the house all weekend. But he won the roping.
B
Yeah.
D
And then that was okay.
B
Oh, there's one. Yeah. I mean, it's. They. They kind of. I don't know if you feel like you got. I mean, kind of the brand as a Western writer, I mean.
D
Yeah. I mean, I know, and I don't really want it.
B
Yeah. Yeah.
D
It's.
B
Yeah.
D
Look, what.
B
What is Western writing?
D
I know it used to be, you know, even in my years in the west, it used to be a lot of writers who were local writers like Ivan Doig and Mary Clearman Blue and let's keep going Left here, Bill Kittredge, all these people. A lot of what they wrote was almost like land claiming. You know, it's what I call prior appropriation memoirs, you know. You know, Mary Clareman Blues stories about my grandpa was here in 1890. Or I remember the five bottom plow. And it was. She's a good writer and stuff like that. But it was all about, you know, you know, a kind of ersatz nativism that I found kind of tiresome, you know. And I remember, you know, even Wallace Stegner was kind of complaining that the Western literature didn't. Was all sort of historical, you know. It was. Yeah. You know, only like 5% of Montanans are ranchers. But there's been a feeling for a long time, you know, it's all your stories supposed to be kind of ranch stories. And there's this, you know, you never meet people of the kind in Western fiction. It's changing. But you never would meet anybody in Western fiction that resembled anything like the people you knew in Western towns, which are like, a lot like people everywhere else. But that's changing. But it is considered, you know, violating the. The myth.
B
There he was.
D
That was a.
B
Got a little cloud cover all of a sudden. Yeah. Start actually biting. That's good. You gotta look on that top fly.
D
Yeah, I know. I was. I need to be looking when it was looking.
B
That was always Jim's classic move, looking for his cigarettes.
D
Yeah.
B
You know, that's when he'd get one.
D
I know. God, what a cigarette habit he had.
B
You hit that to the right here. Just right out to the middle.
D
Okay. I knew Jim Harrison from the time we were in school together. And he had this. He had this unusual, charismatic personality and was a real, real driven lover of everything about literature. He was an irresistible guy. But he also, in addition to being so artistically inclined, he loved the outdoors, loved to hunt and fish. So anyway, we got along immediately and Started. Stayed in touch all our lives, really.
B
I grew up reading him because he lived in Michigan. Was born very near where I was born, actually. So my dad was always a big fan. Yeah, we had some good times on the river. You know, I'd take him a handful of times every summer. And, you know, with the gym, like, the. The fishing was of marginal importance, but he would call me several times the night before we were supposed to go to make sure that I remembered the salt for the chicken thighs and the hot sauce and the hot peppers and, you know, things like that. That's where his main concerns were. Around what we were gonna have for lunch.
D
Yeah, I know.
B
Making sure that I didn't forget about him.
D
Yeah, you could be in a lot of fish and have to go eat. Yeah, that's great.
B
Should have saved some of the voicemails he left me. I mean, they're just classic. And he would always. He'd always call and be like, hey, this is Jim Harrison. Like, full, full name. Like, I couldn't. Couldn't recognize who he was.
D
Right. That's funny. That's a good point. Well, you know, he was so unlike anybody we'll ever know that, you know, his absence is pretty powerful, isn't it, really? Yeah.
B
I mean, it's. He's just kind of always been. Always been around, been Jim, you know, it's kind of surprising.
D
But not having Jim to write to is a hardship. I have to be honest about that.
B
Yeah. I mean, how often were you guys riding?
D
Every week at the least.
B
That's amazing.
D
But usually more than that.
B
Yeah.
D
And not always consequentially. It's just, you know, I always felt like I had something in my mind.
B
Yeah.
D
Often some. Something nobody else would be interested in, you know, or get it off to the gym.
B
Well, that's just a cool collection of letters. I mean.
D
Yeah.
B
You know that people are gonna want to read those.
D
I'm gonna edit mine with a heavy hand. There's a lot of disreputable things in my day I want to talk about.
B
Okay. Swing that left now. I mean, those are all the things everyone's gonna want to read. You realize that?
D
Oh, I know.
B
I go left here.
D
Over here.
B
Yeah.
D
Yeah. And I mean, Harrison, you know, is. He's a rascal, you know, and. Yeah. I mean, for example, I was working on this story when Time Harrison looked at it and he liked the title, so he just took it Legends of the Fall.
B
Are you serious?
D
Yeah.
B
I had never heard that.
D
Yeah, that.
B
That was your title.
D
That was my Title.
B
Oh, that's classic.
D
But what he did with it was way more than what I was going to do with it, so it was okay with me.
B
Yeah, that one, you kind of have.
D
To be like, well, yeah, no, that was worth it.
B
Give that one up. That's still a great book. I mean, I reread it last year. I mean, it's.
D
Yeah, it was good. Extremely good and full of emotion.
B
Yeah.
D
You know, there's so much cold, well done stuff out there. There's something that really gives you heartaches. It's kind of rare.
B
Nearing the end here. The end is nigh.
D
Geez, this has been a nice little jaunt.
B
Fish. No one fell in.
D
No one fell in.
B
I used to always say that at about this point in my day, oh, you know, good success, we caught some fish. No one fell in. And then of course, at one point after I had said that between like here and the boat launch, a guy fell in. You know, after I made my statement, I was like, I gotta stop saying that until we're in the car.
D
It's what I hear over in my county. You'll say to people, you say, how are the kids? And they'll say, well, nobody's in jail. Just like it's the basics.
B
Yeah, yeah. I mean, can't expect too much more than that.
C
You really can't. Callan, wink and Tom McGuain. You can find some of their stories@newyorkerradio.org I'm David Remnick. Thanks so much and see you next week.
A
The New Yorker Radio Hour is a co production of WNYC Studios and the New Yorker. Our theme music was composed and performed by Meryl Garbus of Tune Yards with additional music by Alexis Quadrado. The New Yorker Radio Hour is supported in part by the Tsurina Endowment Fund.
This episode offers a lyrical and thoughtful immersion into a summer day on Montana’s legendary Yellowstone River, where two acclaimed writers—Thomas McGuane (the literary veteran) and Callan Wink (the emerging talent)—go fishing and reflect on the intertwined crafts of writing, guiding, and living in the American West. Through fly-casting and conversation, McGuane and Wink explore their creative processes, the mythology and baggage of “Western writing,” and the deep roots of their friendship and influences.
The mood is relaxed and gently comedic, driven by shared nostalgia, wit, and a river’s unhurried pace. Listeners are treated to reflections on storytelling, discipline, loss, and the quirks of literary life—punctuated with fly-fishing lore and riverside banter.
[01:01–09:53]
The State of the Short Story and Novel:
Writing Discipline:
Creative Process and Improvisation:
Procrastination and Ideas:
Lifelong Dedication:
[11:00–13:44]
[03:01–18:48]
River Reflections:
Camaraderie and Life as a Guide:
[14:23–18:29]
Stories of Jim Harrison:
Correspondence and Loss:
A Literary Anecdote:
On short stories and novels:
On writing through habit:
On literary identity:
On the rich mundanity of riverside life:
On the endurance of literary friendship:
On literary theft as homage:
The conversation is casual, wry, and insightful, with humor and an undercurrent of deep respect—for the craft, the landscape, and each other. Fishing serves as both context and metaphor for their elusive, improvisatory pursuit of meaning on and off the page.
This summary covers the heart of a rich and leisurely conversation between two kindred spirits on the river, offering insight into the writing life, the meaning of place, and enduring literary friendships.