Mosquito Lagoon, and the area around it, is one of the quietest places in Florida. Interstate 95 has pulled the tourist traffic off of US 1 from Daytona Beach to Titusville, leaving the four-lane artery to the locals. Drive the length on any given day and you will pass only a handful of cars. The road is sparsely lined with various commercial establishments and vestiges of Florida's past. The real beauty of the area can be found less than a mile east of the main drag. Once, a thriving fishing industry fueled the economy of towns such as Oak Hill and Scottsmoor. Now, since the gill net ban, fishing guides scratch for a living and the specter of the end of the space industry hangs like a heavy fog over the area. This is the stuff of R.V. Davis' book. In my opinion, the writer is in the same ilk as Carl Hiaasen, if only in his ability to weave a story that captures the essence of what it is to live in Florida and be a Floridian. The story starts slow and shifts between autobiographical glimpses of the main character's life and the first of the protagonists that set the stage for the roller coaster ride that ensues. By Chapter 3, I was hooked like a redfish. The unique coastal Florida language and grammar are irritating at first, but quickly become part of the charm of the book as you are reeled further and further into the drama of Jack and JT Wallace.