Norman Maclean wrote A River Runs Through It, the book which inspired the Robert Redford film of the same name. "The movie," as it's known in fly-fishing circles, is responsible for the first big surge in fly fishing’s popularity, and helped bring the sport into the mainstream. A River Runs Through It is one of the best American short stories of the late 20th century, but Norman Maclean remains one of the most unknown authors. His literary output was low (USFS 1919, A River Runs Through It, and Young Men and Fire are his only books), but in a sport where longtime writers feel like family, it seems like most folks know little about Maclean.

Maclean’s story, as it turns out, is captivating. As with all of us, there’s more to Maclean than fly fishing, and his story is compellingly told in the new book Norman Maclean: A Life of Letters and Rivers by Rebecca McCarthy.

Rebecca met Maclean when she was just a teenager, and before he published A River Runs Through It. Rebecca’s brother worked for the Forest Service and lived in Seeley Lake, Montana, where Maclean spent his summers. Everyone in Seeley Lake knew Maclean, who was a professor of English literature at the University of Chicago, but had grown up in nearby Missoula.

Maclean eventually convinced Rebecca to attend the University of Chicago, although he retired before she enrolled. Maclean stayed in Chicago, though, and took Rebecca under his wing. The two went for frequent walks, even through Washington Park, one of Chicago’s more dangerous areas.

During a cross-country race, Rebecca told me one of the male participants was stabbed while running through Washington Park. But Maclean — who was maybe 5’7” — would go for daily walks through the area.

“Teenagers would harass us, and he would just ignore them, and we just kept walking,” Rebecca told me during a wide-ranging interview about her book and relationship with Maclean. “And I thought, well, I’m with Norman, I'm okay. This blonde-haired girl with hair to my shoulders and here's an old, old guy. You know, really, we're going to be okay. But I swear, God protects idiots and little children. We were fine.”

Although Maclean wrote perhaps the best fly-fishing story ever told, and described the Montana of his youth in reverential terms, he spent the majority of his life in Chicago. He attended Dartmouth, where he wrote a humor magazine with Theodore Geisel, but Rebecca details how much Maclean hated his time at that school.

“While many of his classmates were learning to sail and play polo, Norman had been fighting forest fires and leading pack mules in the Bitterroot Mountains,” Rebecca writes. “They knew little about the Rocky Mountains and less about Montana … Norman felt they looked down on him because his family wasn’t rich.”

In Chicago, Maclean found an environment that was more welcoming. He became a legendary teacher who commanded respect from students and faculty alike.

This might sound like a dull tale, but that’s where Rebecca McCarthy’s excellent storytelling comes in. She guides the narrative forward with enough thrust to keep you interested, but leaves plenty of details along the way that add flavor to Maclean’s life. We learn about his love for the Crock-Pot, his often-prickly demeanor, and of his relationship with his wife, Jessie Burns.

Often, in biographies, there’s a lull in the action. But McCarthy structured this book in a non-linear fashion, one that keeps the reader engaged. There wasn’t a single chapter that felt like a chore, and there weren’t details that I found superfluous. Even for someone who doesn’t care much for the world of academia, I found myself intrigued by Maclean’s dealings at Chicago and his impact on the university. As a former high school English teacher, I loved Maclean’s definition of what makes a good teacher:

“A good teacher is a tough guy who cares very deeply about something that is hard to understand.”

We also get a glimpse of how important fly fishing was to Maclean. He only ever fly fished in and around Seeley Lake. McCarthy details how he had opportunities to fish through the Midwest (and international locations) but turned them down. For Maclean, fly fishing was something he did to remember his family, and he did that best at the family cabin in Seeley Lake.

Like all of us, Maclean’s life wasn’t a linear path to success. McCarthy’s well-written biography showcases the good and bad that made Maclean, and gives us more than just a glimpse at the man she was friends with for decades. After finishing her book, I feel like I know Maclean, too. That’s the mark of great writing.

McCarthy’s hard work in telling Maclean’s story gave me a greater appreciation for who he was, as well as the pains he went through to write such a moving tale. Writing didn’t necessarily come easy to Maclean, who felt that everything had to be perfect. He was so detail-oriented that he liked to say the publisher “didn’t change anything” from his final draft of A River Runs Through It to the publication copy. McCarthy told me that’s not quite true—the press standardized some spelling and punctuation—but that “when he finished, he knew he had written a masterpiece. He just knew it.”

I don’t know if McCarthy felt she wrote a masterpiece upon finishing this book, but at the very least, she added depth and character to one of fly fishing’s greatest storytellers. If you have even a passing interest in writing, fishing, or life and loss in general, you need to read Norman Maclean: A Life of Letters and Rivers.

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Spencer Durrant is the Content Director for Ventures Fly Co., the News Editor for MidCurrent, and a columnist for Hatch Magazine. He hosts the weekly Untangled Podcast, and currently lives in Wyoming with his wife and dog.