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Staff writer for the New Yorker Orlean first encountered John Laroche's name in a 'short but alluring' newspaper item which alerted all her journalistic instincts. Laroche had been arrested for stealing wild, endangered orchids from a Florida swamp. He was apparently addiction-prone and orchids were his latest mania. This snipped led the author into a bizarre, sometimes frightening, world. Orlean writes with the crisp clarity of a journalist but the sensitivity of a poet and the book is packed with 'stories' about Florida itself, its other horticultural excesses and its very independent American-Indians. You don't have to be a plant person to be riveted. (Kirkus UK)
