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Summary
Summary
The bold new book from the celebrated New York Times -bestselling author of Fates and Furies .
"Lauren Groff is a writer of rare gifts." -- The New York Times Book Review
In her vigorous and moving new book, Lauren Groff brings her electric storytelling and intelligence to a world in which storms, snakes, and sinkholes lurk at the edge of everyday life, but the greater threats and mysteries are of a human, emotional, and psychological nature. Among those navigating it all are a resourceful pair of abandoned sisters; a lonely boy, grown up; a restless, childless couple, a searching, homeless woman; and an unforgettable, recurring character - a steely and conflicted wife and mother.
The stories in this collection span characters, towns, decades, even centuries, but Florida--its landscape, climate, history, and state of mind--becomes its gravitational center: an energy, a mood, as much as a place of residence. Groff transports the reader, then jolts us alert with a crackle of wit, a wave of sadness, a flash of cruelty, as she writes about loneliness, rage, family, and the passage of time. With shocking accuracy and effect, she pinpoints the moments and decisions and connections behind human pleasure and pain, hope and despair, love and fury--the moments that make us alive. Startling, precise, and affecting, Florida is a magnificent achievement.
Reviews (6)
Publisher's Weekly Review
Ferocious weather and self-destructive impulses plague the characters in this assured collection, the first from Groff (Fates and Furies) since 2009's Delicate Edible Birds. In "Above and Below," a grad student loses her university funding and spirals into homelessness. The solo vacationer in "Salvador"-one of three stories set outside Florida-waits out a raging storm with a menacing shopkeeper who, after the harrowing night, "smelled of wet denim and sweated-out alcohol and sour private skin." Groff's descriptions shimmer with precision: in "Eyewall," at the onset of a hurricane that a hallucinating woman endures alone, "the lake goosebumped" and "the house sucked in a shuddery breath." On a family getaway to a cheerless cabin in the claustrophobic "The Midnight Zone," a woman notes "how the screens at night pulsed with the tender bellies of lizards." That story is one of five to feature an unnamed fretful mother and novelist who, in "Yport," has dragged her two young sons to France while she researches Guy de Maupassant. "Their world is so full of beauty," she says, fearing for the boys' future, "the last terrible flash of beauty before the darkness." A number of the stories hit similar tonal notes (pessimism threatens to sink a few of them), but Groff's skillful prose, self-awareness, and dark humor leaven the bleakness, making this a consistently rewarding collection. (June) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
Booklist Review
The flora and fauna of the Sunshine State vine and prowl through Groff's second short story collection and first book since the smash-hit novel Fates and Furies (2015). With sympathy for her characters and a keen sensitivity to the natural world, Groff gets readers wondering who or what will triumph or succumb. Contrary to all good advice, a woman waits out a hurricane in her historic home and is visited by the ghosts of men she's loved. A writer, the mother of two young sons, appears in several stories. In one, she's alone with the boys in a remote cabin when she falls while changing a lightbulb and then battles to remain calm and awake in a concussed delirium. In Yport, the three spend a summer month in France for the woman's research on Guy de Maupassant, and it will be the boys who teach her something she hadn't realized about the writer she'd long studied. Though 10 of the 11 stories have been previously published, their power as a single unit is undeniable.--Bostrom, Annie Copyright 2018 Booklist
New York Review of Books Review
FLORIDA, by Lauren Groff. (Riverhead, $16.) Groff, the author of "Fates and Furies," is a master storyteller, and the 11 stories in her new collection dive into darker sides of the titular state: Panthers, tropical storms and sinkholes - not to mention plenty of bad men - abound. But it's not all grim: As our reviewer, Christine Schutt, put it, the selections "lean toward love and the promise of good people, in not just this state but the world." ROBIN, by Dave Itzkoff. (Picador, $18.) Itzkoff, a culture reporter for The Times, has written an appreciative and extensively reported biography of his hero Robin Williams. He follows Williams's development, from a wealthy, introverted teenager to a brilliant comic phenomenon, but doesn't skirt the comedian's personal struggles, including addiction and mental illness. WE BEGIN OUR ASCENT, by Joe Mungo Reed. (Simon & Schuster, $16.) A debut novel focuses on cycling, performance drugs and the personal failings of Sol, a middling British racer on the Tour de France. The book also includes a look at his marriage, to a geneticist waiting for a breakthrough. As Sol keeps doping, he and his wife are drawn into a drug-smuggling operation, raising questions about the moral consequences of ambition. INTO THE RAGING SEA: Thirty-Three Mariners, One Megastorm, and the Sinking of El Faro, by Rachel Slade. (Ecco/HarperCollins, $17.99.) In 2015, the 790-foot ship El Faro sank off the Bahamas during Hurricane Joaquin, becoming the worst American maritime disaster in decades. Slade makes good use of the transcript captured by the voyage data recorder, offering heartbreaking insight into the ship's final hours. Our reviewer, Douglas Preston, called the book "a powerful and affecting story, beautifully handled." MY EX-LIFE, by Stephen McCauley. (Flatiron, $16.99.) When readers meet David Hedges, this novel's central character, it's not his happiest time: His boyfriend has left him, his job is unfulfilling and the house he rents (and loves) is being sold. But a phone call from his ex-wife, Julie, changes everything. Soon, he's heading to Boston to help her daughter sort out her life plans, and he and Julie become unlikely companions. RAGE BECOMES HER: The Power of Women's Anger, by Soraya Chemaly. (Atria, $17.) A longtime activist, Chemaly outlines a number of inequities that should outrage women (pay disparity, discrimination, harassment). Despite the socialization that women and girls receive to suppress their emotions, she makes a case for how anger can be a galvanizing force.
Guardian Review
Women fill with fury at waste, eco-apocalypse and the pressure to be flawless in a lyrical and oblique short story collection Lauren Groffs new story collection is a portrait not so much of a place as of a particular kind of feeling about a place, as experienced by a series of characters, some of whom seem to be the same woman. She is the mother of two sons, and like Mathilde in Groffs acclaimed 2015 novel Fates and Furies, named book of the year by both Amazon and Barack Obama she is furious beyond all measure. Unlike Mathilde, though, she has children, which raises the stakes. Also unlike Mathilde, she has no name. I have somehow become a woman who yells, the first story, Ghosts and Empties, begins, as the mother tries to keep a cap on her anger for the sake of her family. To keep herself together, she goes walking at night, looking in at her neighbours, their lit windows like domestic aquariums: a group of nuns, a psychotherapist who had an affair with one of his patients wives (the patient shot the wife to death mid-coitus, then went to prison), a boy on a treadmill. Mostly, however, she observes the mothers of the neighbourhood, bent like shepherdess crooks, scanning the floor for tiny Legos or half-chewed grapes or the people they once were, slumped in the corners. Some nights she comes home from her walks still fuming and her husband encourages her to take another lap around the block. Its too much, its too much, she shouts at him. When she goes to the drugstore to buy Epsom salts for her aching feet, she is struck by the shops abundance its aisles of gaudy trash and useless wrapping and plastic pull tabs that will one day end up in the throat of the Earths last sea turtle. She leaves without buying the thing she has come for because I am not ready for such easy absolution as this. I cant. These I cants and I wonts accumulate across the collection, as each of the mothers delves into the reasons for her anger. We need to constantly push against the narratives we are told to swallow, Groff said in a New Yorker interview last year. This is what she shows in story after story: a heroic pushback against the way we live now, against waste, against the artificial environments in which we find ourselves maintained by corporations, but equally against the pressures on women to be flawless, effortlessly excellent mothers, wives, sisters, lovers, friends, within this dire state of affairs. Groffs lyrical and oblique stories catch these women in the midst of becoming aware of their complicity in perpetuating these narratives to which their response is to walk, flee, or conversely refuse to budge, as in the dazzlingly apocalyptic Eyewall, about a woman staying in her house during a hurricane. The well-meaning macho neighbour tries to get her to leave with him but he ends up being wiped off the road by the storm, kiss[ing] the concrete rise of an overpass. In Above and Below, the main character ups and leaves her graduate student existence, with its piled-up debts, and drifts into a more and more marginal life of homelessness. Other stories feature children abandoned by irresponsible adults, who weave in and out of the narratives like selfish giants. Walk outside in Florida, and a snake will be watching you From 'Snake Stories' Though they are written in a moodily realist mode, the stories are poised just this side of dystopian fiction. The end of the world, or of life as we know it, hovers somewhere in the not unimaginably far-off future. The mother in Ghosts and Empties cant stop reading about the disaster of the world, the glaciers dying like living creatures, the great Pacific trash gyre, the hundreds of unrecorded deaths of species, millennia snuffed out as if they were not precious. I read and savagely mourn, as if reading could somehow sate this hunger for grief, instead of what it does, which is fuel it. This is echoed in the last story, Yport: She cant stop the thought that children born now will be the last generation of humans She feels it nearing, the midnight of humanity. Not all of the stories are set in Florida, but if they range out to France several times, and to Brazil once, it is to get perspective on the back home from the far away, to juxtapose the Florida heat with the Normandy sea spray. The hot, humid Floridian atmosphere hangs over all the stories; the word rot appears in most of them, sometimes more than once. In several, the air-conditioning is out, but the organic presence of the rot and the heat is almost welcome against the sickly fake cold air filling most peoples houses. All manner of swamp creatures lurk and threaten; sometimes they breach the safety of the house. Walk outside in Florida, and a snake will be watching you, thinks the mother in Snake Stories: snakes in mulch, snakes in scrub, snakes waiting from the lawn for you to leave the pool so they can drown themselves in it, snakes gazing at your mousy ankle and wondering what it would feel like to sink its fangs in deep. There is something off-kilter in these ecosystems; perhaps it is nature reasserting its primacy against the Anthropocene. Every woman, every snake, is fighting back against the laws of nature, and the human-made Eden that threatens to imprison, or end, them all. - Lauren Elkin.
Kirkus Review
In 11 electric short stories, the gifted Groff (Fates and Furies, 2015, etc.) unpacks the "dread and heat" of her home state.In her first fiction since President Barack Obama named Fates and Furies his favorite book of the year, Groff collects her singing, stinging stories of foreboding and strangeness in the Sunshine State. Groff lives in Gainesville with a husband and two sons, and four of these tales are told from the perspectives of unmoored married mothers of young ones. The first, "Ghosts and Empties," which appeared in the New Yorker, begins with the line, "I have somehow become a woman who yells," a disposition the narrator tries to quell by walking at all hours as "the neighbors' lives reveal themselves, the lit windows domestic aquariums." Groff fans will recognize the descriptive zest instantly. The same quasi-hapless mother seems to narrate "The Midnight Zone," in which she imperils the lives of her boys by falling off a stool and hitting her head while alone with them at a remote cabin, "where one thing [she] liked was how the screens at night pulsed with the tender bellies of lizards." Ditto for the lonely oddballs telling "Flower Hunters" and "Yport," the longest and last story, in which the reckless mother is often coated in alcohol. These are raw, danger-riddled, linguistically potent pieces. They unsettle their readers at every pass. In the dreamy, terrific "Dogs Go Wolf," two little girls are abandoned on an island, their starvation lyrical: "The older sister's body was made of air. She was a balloon, skidding over the ground"; their rescue is akin to a fairy tale. Equally mesmerizing is "Above and Below," in which the graduate student narrator sinks away and dissipates into vivid, exacting homelessness. Even the few stories that dribble off rather than end, such as "For the God of Love, For the Love of God," have passages of surpassing beauty. And Groff gets the humid, pervasive white racism that isn't her point but curdles through plenty of her characters.A literary tour de force of precariousness set in a blistering place, a state shaped like a gun. Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Library Journal Review
A frank, rambunctious, generous writer, Groff thought big in her much-heralded novel Fates and Furies. Here, in spot-on language, she effectively provides slice-of-life reading, capturing the scents and sounds of her newly adopted state, Florida. Her portraits aren't of sand, surf, and sunshine; instead, she shows us houses that "rot and droop" in the humidity, the "devilish reek of snakes" at swamp's edge, and an "old hunting camp shipwrecked in twenty miles of scrub" where a panther lurks. But these portraits aren't unaffectionate, and the characters can be satisfyingly tough, though Groff's alter ego in several stories is still getting her bearings. In the opening story, she walks nightly in her transitional neighborhood, seeing few people but keeping herself from becoming a yowling mom. The standout "At the Round Earth's Imagined Corners" traces a Florida boy's life from his rough upbringing, his mother's stealing him away to safety, his father's grabbing him back, and his adulthood in the family home, when he confronts the ghost of his let-down father, then joyously greets his wife. VERDICT Well-observed, unexpected writing for fans and more. [See Prepub Alert, 12/11/17.] © Copyright 2018. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.