at the student's club...

...we enjoyed a talk about a couple of fiction writers from Florida. I was sort of familiar with one, who I  have not read, but know the name, and that he is a prolific producer of mysteries. Carl Hiaasen writes for the Miami paper, and is an ardent environmentalist. A staunch supporter of preserving the natural wonders of south Florida swamps, mangroves, and the area known as Ten Thousand Islands, low lying land to the west of the Everglades. Where there is an abundance of wildlife living in the hammocks and watery byways of southwest Florida.

Hiaasen has written a number of books, in addition to his investigative reporting for the Miami Herald, most of which would be classified as 'who-dun-its', but also several books for young adults. A number have debuted on the New York Times bestseller list. He attended Emory University, finished at the University of Florida and began a career as a newspaper writer.

The other Floridan we learned about was Charles Martin. His name was not at all familiar to me, but when I looked at one of the two books the speaker brought, I'm pretty sure I read it in recent years. About a couple who take a canoe trip along a river in north Florida, ending in Jacksonville.

I now wish I had been at the January meeting, when the talk was about three Georgia authors: Ferrol Sams (I recently read his memoir), Margaret Mitchell,  and Bailey White from Thomasville. I read Gone With the Wind in high school, and have read a couple of things by Sams,  and  at least one book from White. Pretty interesting, though from what I understand the 'program' is supposed to be limited to about fifteen minutes - not nearly enough time to share a wealth of research the monthly speakers apparently do before presenting.

We had lunch, severed on white linen table cloths, cloth napkins with five utensil place settings. I do not recall the last time I had such elegant table service. Green salad, baked chicken breast, steamed broccoli, homemade yeast rolls,  and a yummy dessert. I kept my hands in  my lap, did not drop any food, or swear inappropriately, believe I was remarkably well behaved.