In the Land of Good Living

March 30, 2020
In this enjoyable travel memoir, a long-departed son of the Sunshine State returns with two buddies to explore the nation’s weirdest state. Self-described “incautious Kerouac wannabe” and back-tax-dodging Russell (I Am Sorry to Have Raised a Timid Son) hauled his friends Glenn, “an affable Ottawan,” and Iraq War vet Noah (“We fit together and dangerously so”) along on a poorly thought-out odyssey into the sweaty, swampy heart of Florida in the summer of 2016. Planning to shoot a documentary, the three instead rambled down highways and threw ironic bromides back and forth—related in biting screenplay-format interludes—while Russell “tried to think Bruce Chatwin-y thoughts.” They encountered the expected range of Florida Man types, including Trump-loving fishermen, a crazed Jesus performer with a “down-and-out Pete Sampras vibe,” and prison-tatted marijuana growers in the surreal ruins of a never-completed suburban scam development. Throughout, Russell mixes historical insight with heavily ironic state mottos (“Florida: No judge but one’s own”) and a dash of empathy. As the trio amble south toward Miami and the author’s childhood home, he reflects on the state’s blithely corrupt history: “There are no innocents here. Only individuals who wanted waterfront property for pennies on the dollar.” At once insightful and entertaining, Russell’s observations reinforce Florida’s mystique.

May 15, 2020
A picaresque, amiable ramble through arguably the weirdest state in the country. "You gotta understand," writes essayist Russell. "Florida exists in the future continuous sense. Florida will be a personal paradise, yours to own as soon as we fill in this hellish bog." It's a conditional place, too, its survival contingent on the mercy of the rising sea. The author teamed up with a tough-willed Marine veteran and another buddy to wander through the entire Sunshine State, inspired by the politician Lawton Chiles, who, as an unknown candidate, walked most of the peninsula in order to introduce himself to voters. Their adventures lean toward both the madcap and the mundane. On the former front, for instance, Russell chronicles how they were intercepted by a heavily armed, apparently heavily drugged woman whose suspicion was aroused by their shopping cart, laden with cameras for a documentary they were making about "the peninsula that stupefies, sickens, infuriates, and finally embarrasses the rest of the nation." Satisfied that their intentions weren't nefarious, she gamely noted, "You can lick me up and down if you want. I've been in the ocean." Russell politely declined. They also wandered into nests of Trump supporters to find that he's admired because he "eats KFC on his plane," just like a regular Joe. The political analysis seldom goes deeper, and the narrative is often superficial, a kind of gee-whiz take on a place that, as journalist and Florida native Craig Pittman has written, exceeds every other place in strangeness. And why should that be? Russell doesn't deep-dive, borrowing instead from T.D. Allman, another journalist, to note that people who come to Florida have tended to want to re-create the societies and places they've left behind, if with a slightly hallucinatory quality--which seems just right. Fans of Harry Crews and Carl Hiaasen will enjoy Russell's entertaining, if lightweight, yarn.

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May 15, 2020
Russell and Noah, both at loose ends?Russell between freelance writing gigs and Noah unemployed after serving in the marine corps in Iraq?needed a project. So Noah suggested they follow in the footsteps of Walkin' Lawton Chiles, who rose from obscurity to launch a successful political career by logging over 1,000 miles canvassing Florida on foot. Along the way, they plan to film a gonzo documentary about Florida, the land of hustlers and carpetbaggers, that might serve as a fitting elegy to the state when rising waters, driven by climate change, return the region to swamp. The pair sets out, along with Russell's writing buddy turned documentarian Glenn, to capture Florida all its glory, and their efforts do not disappoint. Whether hauling shrimp, being greeted at gunpoint, or interviewing Jesus in an off-white robe at Epcot Center, Russell writes of his home state with the affectionate exasperation of kinship. His rollicking style is interspersed with screenplay-like scenes that capture the punchy back-and-forth between the three men, their trip as changeable and open to reinvention as the great state they set out to capture.(Reprinted with permission of Booklist, copyright 2020, American Library Association.)

Starred review from June 1, 2020

This book from Russell (I Am Sorry To Have Raised a Timid Son) opens on three buddies trudging gingerly along a Florida highway, pulling gear and a camera in a stolen shopping cart, debating the title of their ill-advised documentary. What led to this poorly planned journey to reclaim Florida? Blame a lot of Coors and the movie trailer for Wild. This decision leads to a extraordinary tale of insane choices, the surreal feeling of Florida, and a months-long, 1,000-mile trek cross-state. The author chronicles this epic, foot-busting, 2016 quest with friends Glenn and Noah. They face a gator with only a bangstick, meet a man who believes he is Jesus at the Holy Land Experience, accidentally become shrimpers, and lose their video equipment during a hazy night of cocaine, to name a few misadventures. Beyond the bizarre, Russell delves into Florida's history and shares roadside discussions on everything from post-traumatic stress disorder to politics. Transcripts of documentary footage as well as interviews with locals are included. VERDICT A humorous, heartfelt tribute to the underbelly of Florida and its people. Recommended for fans of travel literature or the unusual survival story.--Katie Lawrence, Grand Rapids, MI

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