Reading List: That Florida Thing
A new book on "Gator Country" explores Florida's outsize reputation
Happy December, y’all. I’m going to be on the road for the next few weeks—for pleasure, for once, rather than work—so this will be the last post of 2023. What for a bonus post on January 2, and then the resumption of regular essays on January 9.
“Gators are just part of life,” writes journalist Rebecca Renner in her new book Gator Country. They’re “no more extraordinary than a raccoon pilfering seed from your birdfeeder.”
Such are the facts of south Florida, which has a justifiable claim as the wildest place in America—a vast expanse of empty swampland, the last redoubt of the Florida panther, and, per the title of Renner’s book, the steamy heart of gator country.
Gators were once extraordinary, though, even in Florida, as I noted in this newsletter back in May. Alligator mississippiensis is a success story, an example of the power of endangered-species legislation to protect a species that was nearly wiped out, mostly through unting. Indeed, alligators are so common now that they’ve become a nuisance. That doesn’t mean they’re safe forever, though, which is why they’re carefully protected. So carefully protected that in Florida, in fact, that the department of wildlife set up an elaborate sting operation, building an entire fake alligator farm to catch a band of poachers.
Operation Alligator Thief, as this plot became known, is the central subject of Renner’s new book. A regular contributor to National Geographic, Renner conducted extensive interviews with the officer who led the undertaking, and narrates much of its unfolding from his point of view. (She also includes a second thread, delving into the mythology of Florida by seeking to uncover the truth of a legendary poacher named Peg Brown.) Along the way, she makes some arguments that could be considered axioms here at Southlands: That swamps are lovely, and ought to be better loved. That the wilderness is never empty, and needs to be considered alongside people. That the clear divides that seem to demark the edges of “environmentalism” ought to be hazier at times, to include hunters and fishermen and perhaps even poachers.
This is a deftly written book, a compelling and evocative tour of southern Florida. The undercover investigation is fascinating, though I found myself as entranced—perhaps more entranced—by the ins and outs of gator farming. There is a Netflix series to be made about the strange world of men who root through the swamps, seeking the wild-caught eggs that stock the farms that source the country’s alligator meat.
Renner, a Floridian herself, positions the book as a chance to defend her home state, to tell its story straight. Too, often, she writes, Florida becomes “a wild and wacky backdrop where characters and tall tales abounded, where ‘normal’ folks vacationed but where real people didn’t live.”
I’d quibble that Renner has it both ways. This is a book, after all, about a swashbuckling wildlife agent on the eve of his retirement, about the several generations of backwoods poachers—hardly a portrait of normality. Perhaps we should admit that Florida is a unique place. Let’s consider that less a reason for consternation than admiration. Florida is a place where life abounds, where strange things happen, where the world retains its mystery. There is nothing wrong with that.
Reading Gator Country got me thinking: what are the great books of Florida? In my “Books of the South” post, I went with Zora Neale Hurston’s Their Eyes Were Watching God (1937), a classic novel that depicts a Black Florida coming-of-age in the early twentieth century.
In part because of its rich wildness, Florida has inspired a lot of great literature. If you’ve got some reading time this holiday season, here are some other choices to bring you into this American wonderland.
Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings: The Yearling (1938)
Renner references Rawlings’ classic a few times in Gator Country, with good reason: this novel, a tale of a young man’s relationship with natural Florida, won the Pulitzer Prize. Its popularity coincided with the boom in population in a paradisical state over the years to come.
Marjory Stoneman Douglas: The Everglades: River of Grass (1947)
Douglas’s journalism in the Miami Herald helped protect the Everglades, prompting the creation of a national park. This book, another undisputed classic, was released the same year the park was dedicated, and tells the tale of the place. The latest edition includes an afterward by Michael Grunwald, whose book The Swamp is another useful bit of Florida journalism, delving into the messy years since the park was born.
Susan Orleans: The Orchid Thief (1998)
I first encountered this book as a teenager, by watching its very meta adaptation (titled, appropriate, Adaptation—a pun meant to invoke biology). Orleans, a New Yorker staff writer, offers what is on its surface a profile of an orchid collector who hovers on the edge of legality. But the book reaches beyond simple journalism to accomplish something grander.
Peter Matthieson: Shadow Country (2008)
Mattieson, the only writer to win the National Book Award for both fiction and nonfiction, weaves true history into this novel, which depicts the outlaw life in Florida at the turn of the century. I’ll admit that I have not yet made it through the full 900 page tome, which combines and condenses three earlier novels—but the bits I’ve read make the old country come alive.
Lauren Groff: Florida (2018)
In this collection of stories, Groff, a Florida resident, treats the place like not just a state, but a state of mind. Groff has long been concerned about the climate crisis, and in her capable hands, Florida—“an Eden of dangerous things,” as she calls the place in one story—becomes the perfect backdrop for those fears.
Have I missed any of your favorite Florida books? (This new memoir certainly looks intriguing—anyone read it yet?) Let me know in the comments.
around the Southlands
⛰️ Outside searches for mountain towns where you don’t have to be staggeringly wealthy to buy a cabin—and finds two spots in the South.
+ But there’s a chance that Jasper, Ark., one of those sites, may grow pricier in the years to come. (Southlands)
⛏️ To fight a proposed titanium mine near Okefenokee, in Georgia, activists are leaning on corporate board rooms, seeking promises not to source from the mine. (Atlanta Journal-Constitution)
+ A look at the lithium mine at Kings Mountain, N.C. (Charlotte Observer) and an extension review for another area mine (Yahoo News)
🚜 In Issaquena County, among the emptiest places east of the Mississippi River, the men who own the land like to keep development out. (Mississippi Today)
🚢 Louisisana’s river pilots sustain a rare human connection with the Mississippi River. (64 Parishes)
beyond the Southlands
🐷 The animals we eat are smart—though few biologists are testing just how smart. This lab is working to get more science on the intelligence of farm animals. (Science)
Quick links
A $5 bump for Everglades entry
Swamp fire, finally doused
Replanning New Orleans City Park
A nod toward nature at COP28
OMG. Susan Cerulean isn't even on your list. Carl Hiassen. Bill Belleville. So many more.
Thanks for expanding my to-read list y’all! 😊