Poachers

A collection of stories, all of which have a heart of darkness. We're talking plot, suspense, character - and alligators. Not for the faint of heart. Nothing charming or frothy here; just riveting tales of violence, drunkenness, death, craziness, and obsession. Superb - only don't read it right before falling asleep.

I read these stories and thought this guy knows exactly what he's talking about. But then I thought, if this guy knows what he's talking about, he must be one of these tough rednecks. So he's obviously just an amazing writer doing a ventriloquist act, which is all the more impressive. The title story, a long one, is pitch perfect and, well, terrifying. It won some mystery award, but it's not a mystery; it's a literary story with aspects of a crime story. Fine with me. And the other stories are flat out dead on. Bravo, Mr. Franklin. I'll read your next book, and the one after that.

A magnificent achievement and one of the best books of the year, if not decade. This is how to write a short story collection. The stories are big enough to be considered epic. The narratives are generous and full of heart and reward with something new on reach read. The title story has been decorated in practically every way possible and it is a bonafide classic. "Blue Horses" is not to be missed either, a gem that is achingly beautiful. "Alaska" practically sings with wisdom and hope. "Shubuta" reminds of Barry Hannah and Rick Bass at their finest. Hell, all the stories deserve unstinting praise and admiration. This collection is the best possible news for anybody who loves graceful, elegant writing and dialogue that echoes like a gunshot in a barrel. Among all the five-star books out there, this one deserves ten stars. Unforgettable.

Poachers is like an exotic nine-course meal. At first you're a little apprehensive and you're not sure you're going to like it. But with each new, unidentifiable dish you become more and more satiated and finally gorge yourself in delight. The final title story is definitely the dessert. Delicious, it hits you right in the gut. This book explores a world I'll never know first-hand, and I'm glad Tom Franklin explored it in my stead. I'm smacking my lips in anticipation of his next book, which apparently will be a novel set in the 1890s.

First I'd like to comment on the inane Kirkus review, especially the comment that calls the author "the kind of Southerner who would consider Montgomery the Big City." (I'm probably paraphrasing; I don't have the review in front of me.) Anyway, it's a typical comment from an ignoramous who can't separate the author from his fictional creations. I think that Kirkus assumes that Franklin is backwards because he doesn't condescend to his characters. A lesser writer might, because there are some unattractive people here, but Franklin is much smarter than that. Although the Kirkus review is favorable, it does a disservice to his vivid and beautiful, if dark, book. And the stupid comment at the end (of the Kirkus review) really steams me! Franklin's Alabama is a work of the imagination, not a documentary... Poachers opens a door, all right, but onto Franklin's brilliant imagination, not onto the actual South.