Review of The Legend of Charlie Fish by Josh Rountree

Paul Bunyan, Johnny Appleseed, John Henry, Pecos Bill—the myths and legends of Americana are known to most. But what about Charlie Fish? Half man, half fish, John Rountree pulls him from the flood waters of Galveston, Texas circa 1900 in The Legend of Charlie Fish (Tachyon, 2023).

Part occult, part tall tale, and part urban legend, The Legend of Charlie Fish tells of a man named Floyd who goes on a journey to bury his father, and on his return home runs across several things—trouble, responsibility, and the outrageous. First is a pair of ruthless gangsters. Second is a pair of homeless children who Floyd agrees to help. And third is the titular fish man, Charlie, whom the gangsters are dragging from the waters of the Gulf of Mexico. The kids having a soft spot in their hearts for Charlie, Floyd finds himself under the evil eye of the two gangsters but caring for a damp, man-sized mackerel. The chase is on. Trouble for everyone is, larger dangers lurk.

The Legend of Charlie Fish comes with a stamp of approval from Joe Lansdale—a consummate storyteller of our age. If he recommends it, there should at least be solid prose. And indeed this is true. Rountree writes compact sentences with decent punch that keep things moving. The characters have a touch of Texas, but there is a part of me that wishes Rountree dug in a little deeper, hammed things up a touch more to give the tall tale a complementary, twanging outlandishness. At the same time, there may be some sensitivity about portraying Texans as slack jawed yokels, hence the relative restraint is also understood. Bottom line: style is nice—not as rich as it could have been, but definitely nice.

Rountree also made a good decision on page count. As stated, Charlie Fish is a tall tale. Such stories do poorly at length. Rountree thus keeps his reality stretch short and concise, and bulwarks it with an actual historical event: the early 19th-century hurricane which flooded Galevston and killed hundreds. The relationship of these two things, the man fish and tragedy, form the conceptual backbone of the novel. It's as unique as hell, and the author doesn't let it overstay its welcome.

Another effective tactic Rountee employs, in this case to prevent readers from having the time to be skeptical of the tall tale, is changing perspectives and shifting around to different times in their lives. Points of view jump forward and backward as the narrative slowly hones in on the catastrophic hurricane. This jumping around builds the mystery around Charlie, fills in character stories, and nicely foreshadows the events to come. In short, it grabs and engages the reader, preventing the book from being only an A to B journey—not that there is anything wrong with A to B journeys, just that diversification enhances this particular story.

In the end, The Legend of Charlie Fish is an enjoyable paradox in that it tells a tall tale on top of real-world catastrophe. The effect is to make the catastrophe all the more catastrophic—to give its legend more awe and revere. Rountree's style is solid, taking readers on a tight, well crafted journey to get to the catastrophe. While I personally wish he had inserted a little more Texas into the proceedings, there are zero problems engaging with what's on the page for a bit of light, legend making.