Everything’s overrated. LeBron’s overrated. Hold on, the NBA is overrated. No, sports are overrated. Lobster rolls are overrated. Manhattan’s definitely overrated. Kyoto secretly overrated? Wait a minute, is travel overrated? The Beatles: overrated? Are heroes overrated? If everything’s overrated what’s just naturally rated? Your grandfather’s chinos that are two sizes too large?

Why are so many things overrated? Celebrated institutions and high expectations collide with disappointment and social media. Boom! You’ve got overrated. Conventional wisdom watch out. The Aman is overrated! The sushi place with a counter made from an ancient tree whose menu is $1000 before sake is overrated! But you don’t have to be a luxury good to be overrated, you can be long dead. Picasso’s overrated!

Overrated is a position; it exists in opposition. And it’s seductive, even addictive. Dom Perignon: overrated! Look at that, I just owned the one percenters. The Hotel du Cap? Massively overrated! Wait a minute, I’ve never been there. Doesn’t matter. When we say something is overrated we’re trying to strip away the veneer of adoration—but what we’re really doing is showing that its supporters are foolish, misguided and don’t know better than spending $800 on a t-shirt. Brunello? Overrated.

We’re talking about value and discussions of value are everywhere. In a world where hotels, dining and clothes are comically expensive, then we need to decide what’s worth what. Are RRL chinos worth $225? I think about this a lot. If you’re obsessive enough to care about the perfect cut, they’re worth it. When another person says no chinos should cost more than $80, how can you argue with that?

What about handmade shoes, bamboo fly rods, rare cigars, vintage Armagnac, bespoke suits and wooden boats? These things are wonderful and unnecessary, that is their nature. You may feel connected to a traditional object built by an artisan who spent his life training to make something. Or you can just buy a modern rod and call it a day.

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-Just some end-of-the-month bookkeeping here. It’s been a busy August over at The Contender, so let’s bring you up to date. Since my salmon trip to Norway was canceled (low water) I was a little more productive on the home front.

There was news about my next book, Into the Fire, a guide to my favorite fishing lodges and outfitters, consideration of good travel secrets and your questions answered.

-We also inaugurated The Central Division Book Club. Talking about James Salter and Light Years was really fun. If you haven’t listened to the podcast before this may be where you want to jump in. We’re also taking suggestions for the next book (it will not be Lonesome Dove).

-You can also propose questions for me to ask Michael, or Michael to ask me. Leave them in the comments or message them to us. People apparently like to know whether I would be more uncomfortable walking around a city in shorts or taking a hideous roller bag to a European airport (listen to find out).

-SUMMER BOOKS. If you’re still looking for one last novel before everything picks up in the fall, here are two slim books that I love to recommend. Both, remarkably, were published in 1980, and both were made into films that don’t do them justice. You can finish either in a weekend, but they’ll stay with you longer than that.

-A Month in the Country by J.L. Carr, a wonderful novella about a WWI veteran who spends a summer restoring a church mural in an English village. Complete with charm and local color, as you would expect, but wistful and sweetly sad, as is only proper.

-The Shooting Party by Isabel Colegate. A shooting party on an English estate before WWI. Follows all the characters involved and follows them as they intersect in unexpected ways.

-REC LEAGUE. I compiled my travel guides, reading lists and favorite hotels from over the years on Rec League, a smart and very enjoyable new recommendation app. It’s a great companion to what I write about here: a well-organized catalog of all my favorites, with everything in one place.

It allows you to search for things like Where to Eat in Paris, easily refer back to them and plots it all on Google Maps, which is incredibly helpful when you’re traveling. There’s a Big Japan List, which includes everything I’ve ever written about Japan over the last fifteen years, from newsletter, the FT and Condé Nast Traveler (RIP).

I’m having a great time over there, I have my unhinged and obsessive eBay watch list and a worldwide collection of good bars. I’ll keep adding to it, so follow along.

It’s a great way to keep track of what I’m watching, reading and seeing, and to share it all in one place.

Most of it is free, but where I’ve put in the time, there’s a price per guide. Subscribers to The Contender will get those guides for free: passcode below.

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Who says men won’t read novels besides Lonesome Dove?

We go deep on James Salter’s Light Years and discuss Nedra, Viri, Hadji, Eve and the gang and do some good old-fashioned close reading.

-Order Light Years.

-James Salter in The Paris Review.

-The famous James Salter New Yorker profile.

-Thomas McGuane reads James Salter.

-James Salter on Peter Matthiessen.

-Michael on Second Cities.

-Order a copy of The Print Edition.

I used to obsess over Orvis-endorsed guides and lodges when I was younger. I read their descriptions with great interest and dreamed of fishing in far off places. I wanted to have all my trusted guides and lodges in one place—outfitters I recommend, who I’m happy to pay for when I fish myself.

Just a reminder that all of fishing stories on The Contender can be found here—advice, low-key commandments and travel ideas. For those of you who not into angling there are Style and Travel sections for more greatest hits.

I’m going to update this list as I find more great people to fish with. You can revisit and know that it’s always current.

UNITED STATES

NEW YORK

Brendan McCarthy. New York. A legend in his own time. On the North Fork, Montauk and occasionally Jamaica Bay for striped bass, false albacore and profanity in the morning.

-Urban Angler. New York. One of the great stores anywhere that can outfit you for any place you’re going. Jon Fisher, the owner, can also advise about travel or reveal what it was like to fish with Hranek 30 years ago.

-Dette Flies. Livingston Manor. A Catskills institution. Four generations Dettes have made this a wonderful store. All flies tied in the region, a beautiful thing to see. Can also arrange guiding in the area or just point you in the right direction if you’re on your own.

IDAHO

-Taite Pearson. Silver Creek Outfitters. Ketchum. Taite is a great friend and a truly great guide. Whether you want to try your hand on Silver Creek (it’s technical!) or any of the incredible rivers around Ketchum then Taite is your man. Book him early.

WISCONSIN

-Kyle Zempel. Blackearth Angling Co. Madison. Enlightened smallmouth bass fishing on the Wisconsin, a tidal river, so the bass move around chasing baitfish. Extremely comfortable fishing out of a John boat, expect a grilled lunch on a sand bar. A superb day on the water.

-Stu Neville, Hayward Fly Fishing Company, Hayward. Stu is a wonderful guide for smallmouth, trout and muskie (if you want to get serious). But stop by the terrific store just to say hello, and visit the Moccasin Bar right around the corner.

SOUTH CAROLINA

-Tuck Scott. Bay Street Outfitters. Beaufort. Redfish on the marsh flats off Beaufort is a great experience and it’s even better with Captain Tuck.

FAMILY FRIENDLY

These places are perfect for groups with varied interests (something I would know nothing about!)

-Idaho Rocky Mountain Ranch. Stanley, ID. One of my favorite hotels in the US. You can float down the salmon and cast to the banks for cutthroat trout. Verlon Herndon, who you can book through Silver Creek Outfitters, is your man on the oars.

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I was sitting in the living room of our cabin the other night, reading an old copy of The London Review of Books, feeling relaxed and virtuous, when a bat flew out of the hallway and started circling overhead. It was 9pm, very dark and I was alone. I like bats but in an enclosed space I like them much less. I turned out the rest of the lights, propped open the doors, swore a few times and, finally, the bat flew out into the night. This is country living! No lines outside bakeries, no girls in workout clothes wielding water bottles, but bats. Pick your poison.

There are two sides of most people. Well two sides of me, anyway. There’s life in New York. The grid, newsstands, Three Lives, The Met, bodegas, ambition, noise and the rest of it. Then there’s life here in Wisconsin: a lake, pine trees, birds, eggs from the farmer, a kitchen you can actually turn around in, a grill. You could expand this and say the cultural life of cities, Paris and London, and the natural world of the country, Scotland and Montana.

Being away from Manhattan puts things in perspective. It’s helpful to be around people who haven’t heard of Substack. The newspaper comes a few days late and that may be the best way to know what’s happening in the world, not in real time on the phone, but with a little distance and in print. You might think, I’m in the country I can forget everything everywhere else. But oddly, I often think about Paris. My dad gave me a copy of Between Meals the summer of 1995, before I studied in France. I read that book that year and my favorite parts most other years. Something about the brasseries seems even more desirable when the nearest grocery store is an hour away.

The friction of deciding where we want to live and how, will always be with us. Michael wrote a great piece praising second cities about his well-balanced life in La Jolla, but really about assessing what matters to him these days. Foster Huntington wrote thoughtfully about how he left a great job at Ralph Lauren fifteen years ago to live an outdoor life in Oregon and beyond.

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Hey now, let’s grill, baby!

I’m thrilled to share the news about my next book. Into the Fire is about grilling: who grills well and where do they do it? Why do people get obsessed with cooking over fire? The book ranges worldwide from the American South to Japan—I’ll visit great grilling cultures over the next year for proper research. The book is a portrait of experts who have mastered the most ancient form of cooking.

I forget who said, Not every book needs to be about fishing. Well, I can still fish but I’m so excited for this next chapter. The publisher is Henry Holt and the book won’t be out for a while so we can all exhale—no deadlines yet!

There’s something wonderfully theatrical about grilling. The grill-master, wielding tongs, possibly wearing a ceremonial apron or a good-luck hat, is the conductor. Grilling lends itself to theories and strongly held beliefs about each step the process. Even starting a fire can ignite controversy. Some people would rather endure a tax audit than resort to lighter fluid.

Fire exerts a gravitational pull and draws us near—we connect to the heat and the people near us. We build bonfires and feel protected from the dark, telling ghost stories late at night. On a primal level grilling connects us to a simpler past and it exists outside the realm of technology—fire is our original technology—and unfolds in analog time. Grilling slows us down and brings people together.

Humans have cooked over fire for at least 800,000 years—some say we’ve been at it for over 2 million years. Grilling is elemental and primal. You don’t need a kitchen to grill, you don’t even need a grill—you can cook over a campfire (watch out, marshmallows).

In one sense grilling is universal, known the world over—all you need is a fire. In another, it’s highly specific and remarkably regional. Grilling contains multitudes. Yakitori practitioners in Japan finely season every part of the chicken on charcoal grills where the heat is measured to the degree. One legendary Spanish chef grills individual peas and smokes ice cream (how is that possible?) on custom grills he’s designed himself. Barbecue gurus across the American South refuse to leave well enough alone and righteously battle for brisket supremacy. Patagonia gauchos stretch an entire lamb on la cruz, a steel cross, that they lower over an immense live fire. The process takes all day, and, at times, all night.

Grilling, like all things worth doing, combines sense and sensibility. The sense are the facts: temperature, chemical reactions, recipes, marinades, quantities, progressions, and everything else that transforms food when it comes into contact with heat. Then there’s the sensibility, the reasons we do these things: the cultural, personal, and creative compulsions that make food an expression of the people who prepare it.

I’m thrilled to work on this next chapter.

See you by the fire!

There’s still time to order The Print Edition Summer Issue!

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I’m easing into late summer at our cabin in Wisconsin. It’s a good place to get some work done and a good place not to get much work done. Somewhere in between is answering your questions on this Friday in August.

So please ask whatever’s on your mind—one of the benefits of subscribing to the newsletter. Be assured that when civilians DM me with their questions, they end up in the digital shredder. Hopefully I can help with style, travel, fishing or book recommendations.

Please ask your question in the comments section (not as a response to this email, which happens quite a lot).

In anticipation of familiar topics, here are guides for Paris, London and New York. Also: Fifty Books You Should Read (That Aren’t Obvious) and, in the spirit of the season, some praise for ice.

I can’t plan entire trips for you here—so please don’t ask for a complete travel itineraries—but I can try to help with specific advice.

Let’s limit things to one question for everybody’s sanity.

Hope you’re somewhere enjoying the slower pace in the shade.

David

I admire people who start things. Many of my friends are natural at opening restaurants or publishing magazines or designing clothes. I’m given to overthinking and never quite get going. That’s why I wouldn’t have started this newsletter if Michael (who’s famously proactive) hadn’t convinced me to do it on a Friday afternoon in August. I got off the phone with him and before better judgment kicked in I fired off a newsletter. Over the next week I sent one almost every day. Then came a Q&A, then we started a podcast, much later a newspaper.

Substack was different back then. There were far fewer people on it, for one thing. No app, no feed, no leaderboards. Now you don’t have to explain to anybody what Substack is, but I miss that intimate connection. Michael makes fun of me for celebrating these anniversaries, but it feels like the right day to thank you for being part of a newsletter with a dress code, as I called it back then. There would be no Contender without engaged, insightful and, dare I say, dashing readers.

We’ve covered a lot of ground—granular analysis of chinos and Oxford shirts, slowing down and paying closer attention. And, as travel changes, escaping the algorithm and the Hot List Mentality. In the last six years I’ve met many of you at signings and events, which is always great.

A newsletter has to have a theme and it has to evolve. Sometimes you answer questions you’re asked a lot (where to eat in Paris, how to buy a suit, what books to read), sometimes your topics are more eccentric (ice, rice cookers, 80s cologne). One thing I've learned is never to limit your scope of interest. If you’re obsessed with something off your beat don’t be afraid to cover that too, whether it’s spy novels, sad sports teams or the Westminster dog show.

A few other memorable posts: Rules for Modern Life is the most widely read piece I published. People like rules, what can I say! And here’s what I learned when I turned half a century old: Fifty at Fifty. What Every Man Should Own is when the newsletter became a way to make a living.

It sounds sentimental, but it’s true to say that this newsletter changed my life. Thanks for reading, for asking questions and for ignoring me about roller bags. But more than anything, thank you for holding The Contender to a standard I never imagined it could reach.

What’s a good travel secret? Well, it can be practical or remarkable, usually a little improbable. If we’re honest, the revealer probably wants to offer a hint of worldliness, but if the secret is useful then all is forgiven. Travel secrets used to be a form of currency. Now we have videos of hotel rooms, photos of airplane seats and Reddit threads about the best bakery in Copenhagen. James Salter kept a small black book of Parisian brasseries recommended to him. Now we’ve got Where to Eat in Paris lists all over the internet (hey, I’ve written one), which is somehow less romantic. Yet I still learn useful secrets all the time.

Do you know the easiest way from JFK to Manhattan? Air Train to Jamaica Station. Tap your credit card, walk a couple of minutes to the LIRR platform, you’re at Grand Central or Penn Station in half an hour for $15. Michael Williams, naturally, already knew all this. He’s great at practical matters (Uber from Newark Airport into Newark Penn Station, then take the train from there: another clever MW recipe).

Here’s a famous one: There’s a cash machine in every 7-11 in Japan, which is good to know. Here’s a less famous one: If you’re in Kyoto Station about to take the Shinkansen to Tokyo, you wait in a huge area mobbed with travelers (many who have no idea what to do—it’s like awful, oversized wheeled luggage convention). It’s bright, overwhelming and not where you want to be. Behind a set of noren (those fabric panels outside doors in Japan) is a great soba restaurant with good food and good lighting. There’s even enough room for your bags. It’s quiet inside and you feel like you’ve solved the world’s problems. That’s a travel secret.

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Why do we read? Or rather, why don’t we read? Dramatic cover stories that would make James Salter roll over in his grave may overstate the situation. But they’re not going away. I’m guilty. I read less than I used to. When opening a book was once a reflex, now I reach for my phone. I have to create the time to read and make an effort to focus, as embarrassing as that sounds. And yet it feels like I’m devouring words all the time. Like everybody else, I’m all over the news, Substack and doomscrolling apps we know and love and loathe in equal measure.

We live in an endless state of real time, reading takes us out of time. We’re inundated with updates—anything printed in a newspaper feels like it happened weeks ago. Reading a book takes you away from the continuous hum of the moment. You give up something to the author’s imagination but get so much more in return.

It’s a bizarre situation for a writer. In one way I can connect to more people more quickly than ever before—here on Substack, on Air Mail, in many other places. This access is so much greater than when I started writing decades ago. An FT piece I do with James takes about a year to get in print. A book, of course, takes longer than that. Speaking of books, did you know that the first chapter of The Believer was excerpted on Esquire? Of course not. That would have been the greatest thing that happened to a writer in the 1970s. Today it was barely noticed.

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The third incarnation of The Print Edition is here. Meet The Summer Issue, just in time for relaxation, grilling and nostalgic beer. The cover is a wonderful Fairfield Porter painting of Maine, which sets the right tone for where we want to be.

In the pages we’ve got Graydon Carter on banned words and Brian Gallagher embracing truck life. John Brodie heads to the Bahamas while Yasi Salek remembers Lollapalooza 1995. Josh Condon warns us about summer menswear gone wrong, Al James reveals what’s in his very full garage and Tony Traina files a field watch report. You’ll also learn about the art of house-guesting from Nathan King, our writer-at-large, and discover the Mister Softee order from Significant New Yorkers™.

There are drawings by the great John Segal and a conversation between, wait for it, Michael and Coggins.

Thanks to Crockett & Jones and all our advertisers for all their support.

We’re into The Summer Issue, we think you’ll be into it too.

So order your copy here or find them out in the world at our beloved newsstands.

Enjoy the season!
DC & MW

How are we feeling today? Let’s agree that the World Cup is good, the heat is bad and getting married in Madison Square Garden is worse. Oh, and America is celebrating 250 years under current management.

It’s a complicated time, a balancing act of enjoyment and outrage served every time you look at your phone. So let’s think about the best people, inventions and traditions the US has to offer. Their legacy reminds us of a standard worth trying to meet. After all, this is still a work in progress.

Enjoy the day.

1/ F. Scott Fitzgerald

2/ Hollywood

3/ Doughnuts

4/ Jazz

5/ The Martini

6/ Fred Astaire

7/ Montana

8/ Motels

9/ Musicals

10/ Abstract Expressionism

11/ Duke Ellington

12/ Baseball

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The first iteration of Rules for Modern Life remains the most widely read newsletter in the history of The Contender. Everything written there still stands, particularly rules no. 4, 16 and 28. A year later, Fifty at Fifty, featured lessons I’ve learned over half a century and that also struck a chord. Clearly there’s interest in manners and good behavior, at least among kind and polite Contender readers!

The world keeps moving and I’d like to say collective conduct is improving, but we know that’s not the case. It’s almost like there’s some new horror, often brought on by technology, that lays us low. So here are some more friendly reminders to try to do the better thing, even when all those around you are TikToking into the abyss. Let’s still be the one who sets the higher standard.

1/ Know the names of staff of at your favorite restaurant. Write them down if you have to.

2/ The grill-master does not require unsolicited advice.

3/ Don’t have two martinis before you arrive.

4/ If you meet an artist whose work you like then tell them.

5/ It’s not the gate agent’s fault the flight is late. Be nice.

6/ FaceTiming at full volume is the Devil’s work.

7/ Be able to cook one dish, even if it’s simple. Good at home, good as a guest.

8/ When in doubt, write a thank you note.

9/ The airport lounge is not your personal office.

10/ Know what you want to order when you get to the front of the line.

11/ Leisure doesn’t have to be self-improving.

12/ Don’t bring your iced coffee—or anything else you can drink—into a restaurant or bar. These people are running a business.

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I’m sitting in an airline lounge for two hours and figured I could answer some of your questions. That seems fitting somehow.

So please ask whatever’s on your mind—this is one of the benefits of subscribing to the newsletter. Be assured that when civilians DM me it ends up in the digital shredder. Hopefully I can help with style, travel, fishing or book recommendations.

Please ask your question in the comments section (not as a response to this email, which happens quite a lot).

In anticipation of familiar topics, here are guides for Paris, London and New York. Also: Fifty Books You Should Read (That Aren’t Obvious) and, in the spirit of the season, some praise for ice.

I can’t plan entire trips for you here—so please don’t ask for a complete travel itineraries—but I can try to help with specific advice.

Let’s limit things to one question for everybody’s sanity.

Hope your’e enjoying the World Cup somewhere cool.

David

LIBBY CAMPS in NORTHERN MAINE

A while back, James Harvey-Kelly and I were talking about where we wanted to go for our next FT story. When he said he had always wanted to go on a float plane I knew we had to go to Libby Camps in Northern Maine. That piece is out today, you can read the story here, but James’s great photographs are best seen in print. Rare situation where I caught a fish on demand.

I’ve been to Libby Camps a number of times over the years and love it—here’s an ACL story I wrote back in 2013! Not much has changed since then, and probably hasn’t changed in about fifty years. If you’re into the simple life, I highly recommend it.

SUMMER HOTELS

It’s hard to find summer destinations that’s aren’t high intensity. Yes Northern Maine is good, or even the mid coast. Closer to the big town is Pridwin on Shelter Island. I went there earlier this week and it was terrific. If you can stay in a cottage then you have a little autonomy and great views of Crescent Bay. Near the ferry and Black Cat Books, easygoing vibe and a good equation for families.

I wrote about fasting in Elite Traveler, you can read that story here. This was my second time at Buchinger Wilhelmi in Marbella. I never thought I would become a fasting believer, but I’ve enjoyed it immensely and really hope it’s part of my calendar. The illustration shows me with my daily allotment of honey, which gets you through the afternoon, when you’re surviving on 250 calories a day. The day it didn’t arrive I nearly had a breakdown. But it’s worth it!

NEW OUTSIDER BOOTS

The Outsider IV, my collaboration with Viberg is here. Artwork by Mr. Slowboy— big week for illustrations! This is the latest of working together. It’s a tweak on the three, a chukka boot in new colors that’s lightweight and shockingly comfortable. The original Outsider I is available for order (a dark brown durable Chelsea boot) and so is the Outsider II, which is an amazing warm tan, wider last, and lighter weight. Really fun to work with Viberg, the great Canadian company who does terrific work.

DIVE BARS

I’ve written about bars a lot over the years, including dive bars way back for Glenn O’Brien at Bergdorf Goodman magazine (archive unfindable). There’s a piece in the Times about the dim future of dive bars in New York. The reasons are well-known, expensive real estate and changing drinking habits, chief among them. I was interested in the idea of the $3 beer as a platonic democratic ideal. That a dive bar is a place where different people can come together in the same room is also appealing. Here are some old Contender pieces on What Makes a Good Bar and Why Bars Matter and The World’s Best Bars. I think we’re moving beyond an unironic dive bar. These days there’s no way to make something that isn’t self-aware. But maybe the dive bar finds ways to endure that are outside our best, or worst, intentions. Let’s hope so.

It can useful to have a friend who’s more extreme than you are. They fish more, drink more or spend more. These reassuring people make us feel less guilty about our own compulsive habits. Well I’m not that bad, we say, he’s got ten pairs of Belgians.

This doesn’t have to be self-serving. Sometimes a person inspires us in their commitment to do good work or think creatively. A Japanese friend’s company is doing so well that it’s exciting to see reminds you that it’s good to be courageous. I know people who travel a lot, I’m sure you do too. This has the curious effect of making me think I don’t travel that much. Honestly, at this point, I can’t really tell any more.

In any case, I’m friends with people who are on the road a lot. Photographers, travel writers, Hraneks. I ran into Matt at an antique market and he had come straight from an overnight flight. I would have been resting in the hotel room, jet lag be damned. He has so much energy that it’s inspiring. Over time I realized I couldn’t keep up with some friends, and it occurred to me that I shouldn’t really try.

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