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I accredit Hiaasen for my worldview. Driven by nostalgia, I delved into this book. I had hoped to break free from a slight reading slump, but instead, I found it challenging to stay engaged for most of the story. Hiaasen's witty satirical critiques of Florida hit the mark, yet often at the expense of a solid plot. Now that I've regained my awareness, I've uncovered aspects of his writing that eluded me as a child. Hiaasen comments on what it means to be a Seminole in the modern era, along with a significant dose of environmentalism. After all, he's Carl Hiaasen, and how could he not? And yes, the characters do ultimately come together in a way you wouldn't anticipate. The humor might be lost on those not well-versed in Florida and its residents, but then again, the news headlines about Florida can be helpful (and perhaps desensitize readers). 2/5 ⭐️ A couple of quotes are worth noting: “Sammy Tigertail was wearing a fleece zip-up from Patagonia, a woolen navy watch cap from L.L. Bean and heavy khakis from Eddie Bauer, none of which would be considered traditional Seminole garb. Wilson asked Sammy Tigertail if he had one of those brightly beaded jackets and maybe a pair of deerskin moccasins. The Indian said no.” (4) “‘Fine. You’re the Indian,’ she said. ‘Tell me what’s safe to eat around here.’ Sammy Tigertail didn’t have a clue. Since returning to the reservation from the white man’s world, he’d been unable to shake a fondness for cheeseburgers, rib eyes and pasta. Because of modern commerce coming to the Big Cypress, there had been no need to familiarize himself with the food-gathering skills of his ancestors, who’d farmed sweet potatoes and made bread flour from coontie. Sammy Tigertail wouldn’t have recognized a coontie root if he tripped over it.” (115) “Long before the Seminoles arrived, southwest Florida had been dominated by the Calusa tribe, which fought off the Spaniards but not the sicknesses they brought. The most striking remnants of the sophisticated Calusa civilization were their monumental oyster middens, engineered to protect the settlements from flooding and also to trap fish on high tides. Sammy Tigertail felt proud, and inspired, to be camping on an authentic Calusa shell mound. He hoped to be visited in his sleep by the spirits of their long-dead warriors—perhaps even the one whose well-aimed arrow had been fatal to the invader Ponce de León.” (116) “Even as its numbers dwindled, the tribe’s prominence was inversely escalating to a dimension that boggled the elders. Wealth brought what three bloody wars had failed to win from the whites: deference. Once written off as a ragged band of heathens, the Seminole Nation grew into a formidable corporate power with its own brigade of lawyers and lobbyists. The Indians found themselves embraced by the lily-white business establishment, and avidly courted by politicians of all persuasions.” (314)