Florida by Lauren Groff is an excellent collection of random stories spanning across times periods in Florida. Most of these stories center around women and children.

These stories are all separate from one another, but are all equally beautiful. I found that I enjoyed some and couldn't be bothered with others. Like most anthology and short stories sets, there's going to be some you'll absolutely love! I found the first half of this book kept my attention far more than the latter. The very last story didn't feel like it fit in with the collection, but that's just my opinion. This book would have had a much higher rating if the very last story had been left out.

The one beautiful thing about this story is Lauren's writing. She has a way with her descriptive words and I found the style so enchanting. It pulls you in and keeps your attention. Even when the stories were a little too boring and not my taste, her writing kept me attached to the page.

Overall, I definitely suggest Lauren Groff's writing if you want something that is oddly beautiful.

Three out of five stars.

I received this book for free through Goodreads First Reads. ( )

I loved this book so much that I think I want to reread it. Some of the stories hearken back to Groff's Arcadia (my previous favorite of her books), and others chart new territory entirely. The stories themselves are both domestic and exotic, and they are deeply rooted in the state I love. I'm so used to reading literary fiction that's very New York-centric, so it was both delightful and strange to recognize the city where I was born (Gainesville) as the setting for many of these stories. ( )

In “Flower Hunters”, one of the stories in this collection, an angst-ridden mother finds some solace in reading about William Bartram, an 18th century naturalist who, like her had once been “a northerner dazzled by the frenzied flora and fauna” of Florida. She takes an almost perverse pleasure in imagining her homely neighbourhood as a yet undeveloped “damp, dense tangle. An Eden of dangerous things”. The protagonist completely forgets that it’s Halloween, and, as a consequence, her two boys must make do with improvised costumes. “For the older boy, she cut eyeholes in a white sheet for an old-style ghost, though it rankled, a white boy in a white sheet, Florida still the Deep South”. That night, while the boys and their dad traipse off to a Halloween party, she stays at home, reading about Bartram, listening to the rain and worrying about the sinkhole she is pretty sure is forming and threatening to gobble up her house.

The “Florida” of the title is less of a physical, geographical setting, than a complex of feelings, ideas and associations. The images in "Flower Hunters" are quite representative of this literary place, where the genteel, civilised exterior, is constantly ambushed by the dangerous and the unexpected; where relationships are brittle and class wars are still rife; where even the nicest of persons might be monsters in disguise. Several of the tales portray natural perils which, besides being symbolic, are also quite literal. "Eyewall", a ghost-story in all but name, takes place against the backdrop of a battering hurricane. Storms are a central feature of several of the stories, panthers and alligators roam in others, whilst the Biblical association between snakes and evil is reprised in “Snake Stories”. The feeling of menace is sometimes expressed in tales which skirt the Gothic – “Dogs go Wolf” is a Florida-set (where else?) re-imagining of myths and legends of feral children.

The pull of Florida is such that even in the stories set away from the state (and from North America, even), the same feelings and fears hold sway. For the protagonist of “Salvador”, the Brazilian town is as rain-soaked as home, and equally remindful of the inadequacies of a life spent tending to a bed-ridden mother. “For the God of Love, for the Love of God” is set in France, where a Florida couple visit an old friend, now married to a Swiss baron. As relationships and fortunes collapse, the story turns into a grim comedy-of-manners which I can imagine made into a French art-house movie, perhaps a sort of darker version of Le Prénom. France is, again, the backdrop of “Yport”, which follows a mother and her two boys on a journey to the places associated with Guy du Maupassant, an author whom the mother is unenthusiastically researching. The harried mother realizes that she hates the guy – both as man and as writer – but also takes another an important lesson home with her – “of all places in the world, she belongs in Florida. How dispiriting to learn this of herself”.

To be honest, “dispiriting” is an adjective which could also fit most of the stories in the collection. There are also themes, concerns and images, which keep returning obsessively, making this an anthology to savour, rather than to read in one sitting. And yes, Florida does deserve to be “savoured”. In just a few pages, Groff can draw a character worthy of a novel, conjure a setting and a mood, surprise the reader with a flash of insight, an unexpected image. At her best, Groff can indeed give us an “Eden of dangerous things”. ( )

Beautiful writing, but a bit of a slog. Every story was so bleak and without humour or hope. One could say the writing quality was completely my style but the content was not. In most cases I had no sympathy for any of the characters and many of them I actively disliked. I actually cheered when I finished it because now I get to read something happier. ( )

Lauren Groffs Erzählungen, angesiedelt auf Parkplätzen & in Vorstädten, in Sümpfen & anderen mückenverseuchten Randlagen & Peripherien südstaatlicher Nicht-Orte, berichten vom beschädigten Individuum auf der Suche nach Halt & Orientierung. Ob realistisch erzählt oder modern-mythologisch transzendiert: die stets psychologisch präzise Nähe der Autorin zu ihrem Personal machen diese Geschichten zu beeindruckender Literatur.– ( )