Product Description

In all of the obituaries and writing about Richard Brautigan that appeared after his suicide, none revealed to Ianthe Brautigan the father she knew. Through it took all of her courage, she delved into her memories, good and bad, to retrieve him, and began to write. You Can't Catch Death is a frank, courageous, heartbreaking reflection on both a remarkable man and the child he left behind.

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #762890 in Books
• Published on: 2001-06-19
• Original language: English
• Binding: Paperback
• 240 pages

From Amazon.com
His daughter was 24 when quintessential '60s author Richard Brautigan (Trout Fishing in America) killed himself in 1984, and the obituaries were almost as painful for her as his tragic act. "I did not recognize the dignified, brilliant, hysterically funny, and sometimes difficult man who was my father in anything they wrote," says Ianthe Brautigan, who makes it her business to capture those qualities in this poignant memoir. Her recollections of an unsettled childhood bouncing between two free-spirited parents' bohemian homes (in San Francisco, Montana, Hawaii, and Japan) are remarkably free from bitterness, even when she chronicles drunken phone calls from her suicidal father. Alcohol was Richard Brautigan's fatal weakness, prompted by severe depressions rooted in an impoverished, unhappy childhood. But Ianthe also depicts his tenderness and warmth, the magical sessions of impromptu storytelling with writer buddies like Tom McGuane and Jim Harrison, the glamour of meeting movie stars Peter Fonda and Margot Kidder. She comes to terms with the past that always haunted her father when she makes a trip to Oregon to see her grandmother, estranged from Richard for 25 years. Without presuming to solve the mystery of his death, the author reclaims the values of Brautigan's life and work in her touching, sensitively written book. --Wendy Smith

From Publishers Weekly
Richard Brautigan (1937-1984) made a big splash with Trout Fishing in America (1967), whose unbuttoned prose found a ready-made audience in the burgeoning counterculture. Brautigan completed 11 more books of fiction and nine of poetry before he took his own life; he is now remembered as a campus favorite, and a notorious drinker. His daughter Ianthe aims to supplant that portrait with a more complex and tender view; her raw, affecting and largely admiring memoir recalls "R.B." as a father and as a writer. Rather than follow his life, or her own, from the late '60s to the early '80s, Ianthe breaks her book up into short sectionsAsome narrative, some meditative, some impressionisticAin a manner mildly reminiscent of Trout Fishing itself. In one three-page segment, the adult Ianthe tells her own daughter about Richard's suicide. In the next two pages, Ianthe recalls the bike she got for her ninth birthday. The piece after that (one paragraph) is purely lyrical: "Sometimes the love I have for my father overtakes my whole being... " (A series of single paragraphs, scattered throughout, describe Ianthe's dreams.) The elder Brautigan comes off as energetic, affectionate, playful, outrageous and needyAincreasingly so as the '70s wore on. His death and Ianthe's progressive reactions to it dominate much of the book. Ianthe's memoir creates a vivid sense of her continuing loss and shows how she has come to terms with it. Her work should please "R.B."'s still-ardent fans, who will seek (and find) facts about a father, and leave with a new, moving knowledge of his daughter. Author tour. (June) FYI: Ianthe's memoir appears at the same time as her father's newly published novella, An Unfortunate Woman, a forgotten manuscript she discovered (see review in this issue's Fiction Forecasts).
Copyright 2000 Reed Business Information, Inc.

From Library Journal
The author recalls her late father, whose last novel is also in Prepub Alert (p. 62).
Copyright 2000 Reed Business Information, Inc.

Customer Reviews

Sensitive and moving memoir
This memoir was written with sensitivity and emotion but never seemed maudlin. I was sorry when the book ended. I wanted more.

Richard Brautigan's writing room
A lot of this memoir, written by Richard Brautigan's daughter, though charming in tone, is pretty much skimmable. What's interesting, however, are the descriptions of her father's writing room, particularly in San Francisco in the 1960s-70s on Geary Street and the surrounding vicinity. There are wonderful descriptions of the writing room with its typewriter and art hanging on the walls, such as the pencil drawing of a bus with real Lincoln penny heads as passengers and a picture of an ancient Colt pistol. And who can forget the small Buddhist shrine, the oak table with the stained rings of coffee cups, and the the back porch with those stacked piles of the San Francisco Chronicle. Like any good writer, Brautigan couldn't throw away a day's newspaper without going through it completely. This memoir also has some nice depictions of cabin life in Montana, and there as some interesting old black-white photos of Brautigan. Check out page 71 with it's picture of the ranch house kitchen and the bullet holes on the wall in the shape of a clock.--Alex Sydorenko, Chicago, 2001.

Brautigan again!
This was a lovely book. I remember how saddened I was to learn that Richard Brautigan had taken his own life. His books had been a source of pleasure during my college years. I picked up this book in hopes of some insight into the reason for his death and was rewarded with much more than I could have hoped for. The vignettes of life with her father and dealing with his death were so immediate. The scenes stay in my mind and the beauty of the writing stays in my heart. This is a beautiful portrait of Richard Brautigan, his daughter and their love for one another.