Charles Slack. Blue Fairways. Holt, 1999.

Blue Fairways is a nonfiction road trip story. In this case, as any reader can guess from the title, the road trip involves golf. A little over twenty years ago, thirty-five-year-old Charlie Slack left his wife and steady job for a six-month odyssey down U.S. Route 1 from the northern tip of Maine to Key West, Florida, playing golf.

He played only at public courses. The greens fees were anywhere from eight dollars to a hundred and eighty-five. He also would go to driving ranges to practice. Some days he traveled. Some days he played thirty-six holes; some days, nine. The courses included mom-and-pop public courses, par three courses, nine-hole courses, and courses designed by some of the most famous golf architects in history.

While golfers are the obvious audience for Blue Fairways, it should not be limited just to golfers. We get a sense of what the East Coast of America is like. We meet hundreds of people, most of whom are friendly and helpful. (The only caveat from this reviewer is that Slack does quote some grumpy golfers’ language, if that offends anyone.)

Slack would generally go to a golf course and look for anyone willing to complete a foursome (or a threesome or a twosome). He met many interesting people such as the French-speaking men from northern Maine who spoke little English to the family that inherited a golf course and have been doing what they can to keep in the family.

While I am not a golfer, I did caddie from the ages of eleven to thirteen, so I understand the game and the terminology. I used to watch golf tournaments on television with my father, who followed the sport. For someone not used to golf jargon, some spots may skimmed over, but this is not just about golf. It is about the people he meets and the country he sees. He tells us he chose the title of the book in homage to Blue Highways, the classic nonfiction piece by William Least Heat Moon. This birder also thought of Kingbird Highway by Kenn Kaufman.

More than that, Blue Fairways is simply great writing. Slack has an old Yankee knack for simile that I thought was nearly lost. For example, why did he choose just public courses (besides the cost)?

More important, though, is the fact that public courses, with their crabgrassed fairways and sun-baked greens, are where the vast majority of America’s twenty million golfers play out their dreams. The lush, carpeted fairways and silky greens of Augusta National or Spyglass Hill are as remote to the average golfer as a date with a movie star.

Or this one, that I think many golfers can relate to. Those who cannot, think of socks or coat hangers:

I found myself buying bag after bag of replacement tees in pro shops all along the way. Strange thing about tees, they show up everywhere in a man’s stuff—his change drawer, his lint, his dirty underwear pile. But try to find one when you’re standing on the tee box with a ball in your hand and three partners waiting for you to hit.

At one point, reaching a small valley stream on a course in Maine, he writes:

When I reached the bottom a rush of cool air swept by me no higher than waist level, as though I were wading in a trout stream. The coming dusk had taken the edge off the heat, but this trough of air was too narrow and defined for that. I wondered at the source until I passed a stand of trees and found the right side of the fairway bounded by a large, freshly dug potato field. The exposed troughs were like nature’s own air conditioner. Every time the wind blew over the field, it carried with it the stored up coldness of the Maine winter. I pretended to tie my shoes and dropped to my knees to savor it.

There is much more like this. Over the years I have used a few different collections of essays to teach writing to my students. If I were putting such a collection together, I would seriously think about including a chapter or excerpt from Blue Fairways.