On the surface, it’s about about a bunch of guys who just won’t grow up and go deep see fishin’ (the hard way) off the oil rigs. And it doesn’t really get any deeper than that, but does it need to? (And who knew oil platforms had the ecological side benefit of turning into reefs?)

No grand moralizing, just a couple fun guys and their fish tales. You’ll be surprised at how hard it is to put down.
Rating: 4 / 5

I have nothing against hunting and killing when it is done with skill and respect for animals, and done with the intent of providing food–which is the within the natural order of life. Unfortunately, the following typifies Fontova’s attitude. “You see a huge cobia or amberjack lumbering by–schlink–Ba-LOOOM!! and the big sucker stops in his tracks. Must be the same rush as shooting an elephant between the eyes from close range–POW!–and watching him collapse like a dynamited building.” Seeing the demise of an intelligent, magnificent creature does not give me a rush. Neither does pretending to be in a death battle with fish who do not have our brains or tools, and as a group (marine species particularly), are being depleted much faster than they can restock and survive. The hunters and fishermen/women I admire are heavily into conservation, killing with as little pain as possible, and don’t think seeing somebody about get himself killed is something to brag about. This guy couldn’t hold a candle to them.

Fontana talks about using various weapons and giving the fish a chance, fighting “mano a mano”. Give me a break. They’re stupid fish. There is no real contest here, just a brainless desire to find excitement in the chosen possibility of death, dismemberment, and pain. And when not feeling the desire for that kind of excitement, the “rush of strutting around with serious firepower” will do (i.e. just reminding himself who has the greater killing ability can make him happy). Of course, risking the “icy clutch of danger” is further improved by “serious buzzing” and routine drugging of one form or another. I can’t imagine who taught this man these are the ways prove himself worthy among “men”. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was a teenager–which is how I came across the book–a seventeen year old kid gave it to me to read. I am so glad most “action” writers I’ve come across have more spiritual, emotional, and global awareness than Fontova and are better role models for youth.

If glorifying death isn’t reason enough to skip this book, try Fontova’s attitude on what makes a life worth living. He thinks people come down to Louisiana and get mysteriously transformed for the better by having the desire to do nothing but eat, drink, and get laid. Here’s his amusing anecdote to sum up that philosphy. “An old Cajun put it a little more bluntly. ‘If you can’t eat ‘em or F— ‘em, they’re worthless.” I wonder if he ever considers God’s opinion or interpretation of creation. There are certainly no signs of that in this book.

I think I’ll go back and reread “Wildlife Wars”. Funnier, with more variety, and written by an honorable man who chose to do battle and test himself over things that really matter. Check out Terry Grosz and you’ll see what I mean.
Rating: 1 / 5