It may not be possible to review "Gator Country," by Rebecca Renner, without mentioning "The Orchid Thief" by Susan Orlean.
Both nonfiction books take place in south Florida among ragtag groups of lawless types, enacting peculiar crimes. Whereas Orlean was interested in orchid poachers, Renner's subject is the illegal trade in alligators and alligator eggs (for meat, leather goods and medicines).
Her hero, Jeff Babauta, funded by the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission, takes a fake name, grows his hair out, bathes less often and spends a year operating a gator operation while spying on fellow farmers who hunt outside the bounds of the law.
The comparison to "Orchid Thief" works in Renner's favor because some readers are bound to think, "If Florida flower poaching can become a pulse-pounding thrill ride of a book, alligators probably can, too." But it works against Renner because few writers have the style or verve of the great Orlean.
Renner, a contributor to National Geographic and — like half of the writers who get nonfiction books published these days, Outside magazine — clearly feels a connection to the Everglades, "wild country as stubborn as the American alligator itself." But her prose occasionally over-reaches. When she describes 18th-century naturalist William Bartram's writing as "a bit much," you may think, "Alligator naturalist, heal thyself."
Still, Renner has a dandy story and a great, mythic figure to hang it on: a poaching legend named Peg Brown, who hunted illegally in the late 20th century but whose poaching may have helped the environment. Renner also helps us understand that — like wolves in Minnesota — alligators are animals that can inspire fear, but ultimately deserve our thanks and care.
Gator Country
By: Rebecca Renner.
Publisher: Flatiron, 276 pages, $29.99.
