The bestselling author of Dispatches from Pluto and The Deepest South of All turns his sharp wit and observational powers on the epicenter of America’s most divisive Arizona.When Richard Grant and his wife moved with their four-year-old daughter back to Tucson, Arizona, where the couple first met, he expected to easily rekindle his love of the region. Instead, he found a housing market gone haywire, rampant election conspiracies, and right-wing political violence alarmingly close to his home and family. Undocumented immigration was surging, and the state was also on the front lines of climate change, breaking heat and drought records, and running out of long-term water supplies. Under these circumstances, Grant wondered how he might raise a happy, well-adjusted child who believes in the future. Yet these concerns weren’t keeping people Arizona was simultaneously experiencing some of the nation’s highest population growth. In A Race to the Bottom of Crazy, Grant mixes memoir, research, and reporting in a quest to understand what makes Arizona such a confounding and irresistible place. He visits the world’s largest machine-gun shoot; takes a sunset boat cruise with a US Congressman and a group of far-right patriots; rides through the desert with a Border Patrol agent; and goes camping with his family in breathtaking mountain ranges that rise out of the desert like islands in the sky. Interspersed with these adventures are recollections of his previous stint in the state, including his friendship with cult writer Charles Bowden and years living off the grid with smugglers, dope farmers, and outlaws on the Mexican border. Ultimately, Grant arrives at the conclusion that Arizona has always been a scattershot improvisation, with bizarre and extreme behavior in its DNA. This book is an entertaining, illuminating, and essential guide to understanding modern America at its most overheated.
Richard Grant is a freelance British travel writer based in Arizona. He was born in Malaysia, lived in Kuwait as a boy and then moved to London. He went to school in Hammersmith and received a history degree from University College, London. After graduation he worked as a security guard, a janitor, a house painter and a club DJ before moving to America where he lived a nomadic life in the American West, eventually settling in Tucson, Arizona, as a base from which to travel. He supported himself by writing articles for Men's Journal, Esquire and Details, among others.
His third book Crazy River: Exploration and Folly in East Africa (2011) is about Grant's travels in harrowing situations around East Africa, including an attempt at the first descent of the Malagarasi River in Tanzania.
I lived in Arizona from 2016 to 2021, and teaching while living in Arizona during the pandemic is part of what got me started pursuing a career outside of teaching. So of course, when I saw this title, I was excited to see what sort of experiences Grant had to offer.
As a former Phoenix-dweller (right down the street from a Bikini Beans, which got a mention as a reason for mocking Phoenix), it was fascinating to read about what we would call "the desert people" back in the day. The way this writer goes deep into the heart of far-right political events, machine-gun rallies in the remote desert, and even a Trump rally in 2020 both revealed all the crazy that was going on and approached the people involved in these events with empathy and humanity.
While reading this, I contrasted it with my experience reading Bill Bryson's Lost Continent, and I enjoyed the more journalistic, and much less judgmental tone. It felt like one of those times when you sit down with a friend and start talking about things like, "OMG, people thought that this guy fed his chickens ballots and burned them to rig the election." It feels like sharing stories about the wild west with a friend, but throughout, you can tell that he has a special love for the place, especially the wilder parts.
This book alternates between memoir-style accounts of various points in the author's life when he lived in Arizona (either permanently or temporarily) and examinations of themes such as guns and right-wing politics in the state. It mixes journalistic analysis with personal anecdotes in short, digestible chapters that you can enjoy over a brief lunch break or devour in chunks of 4 or 5.
If you couldn't tell already, I had a great time with this one, and I look forward to reading more of his books some day.
As a native Mississippian and a fan of Grant’s book Dispatches From Pluto, I thoroughly enjoyed getting to experience his unique outsider perspective on a place I know much less about. I appreciate Grant’s open-minded and relational approach to gathering information and synthesizing a sort of personality profile for a state that, much like Mississippi, has its fair share of both redeeming and damning qualities.
Flipping back and forth between his time in Arizona as a free spirited nomad in his 30’s and as a married father with a young daughter (a role he never anticipated aspiring to), Grant pontificates on Arizona’s rugged individualism, attitudes on diminishing water supply, wacky politics, and natural desert beauty. He discusses the incredible friends he’s made and people he’s met, from the fearless cowboy writer Chuck Bowden to a surprisingly liberal Democrat gun-nut in charge of the largest machine gun shoot in the world. Grant shares moments of fatherhood that are honest, relatable, humorous and endearing.
If you like being immersed in people, places, opinions and experiences that remind you how both vastly different and remarkably alike we are, then this is a book for you.
Grant writes about my home state of Arizona during the early 20's (Covid, Trump losing the election, etc.) As I mentioned before, I have a love-hate relationship with my home state. It is a place of frustratingly absurd craziness and absolutely breathtaking beauty. I think Grant captures these things perfectly. The chapters where he talks about the environmental writer Charles "Chuck" Bowden just added to my enjoyment. Bowden is a personal hero of mine and also of Grants, so I appreciated what he writes about him through out the book.
I really liked his book dispatches from Pluto but this book cheapens that experience. I felt that his personality came through more in this book, and I didn’t love him complaining about his daughter and complaining about moving to Arizona when that’s what he wanted to do.
Gives a new perspective on the state I’ve lived in for the last decade. Relatable, occasionally fun, and at times bewildering, Grant’s anecdotes on living in the 48th state are lovely to read and easily digestible.
There is a difference between a genuine curiosity about the world and a selective interest, based on ourselves. —Chogyam Trungpa
Why I read this book All my life, I felt a strong aversion to desert environments, because it’s real easy to die there. I only visited Arizona when forced to, and counted the minutes until I could leave. After a family member began college in the state, I visited more often. I picked up this book to find out more about the state I was in.
The good Thanks to Richard Grant, I know more about Arizona now. Richard’s description of the culture sounds remarkably like that of California.
Arizona is a haphazard improvisation, a random clumping together of people from elsewhere with no hard-and-fast rules. The state was largely built on the idea that you can move here and reinvent yourself in the desert sunshine—be whoever you want to be, and believe whatever you want. . . . The author Tom Zoellner defined the Arizona ethos as follows: “Reality must be defeated, and a more comforting vision set in its place.�
That passage typifies Richard’s attitude throughout the book, as his tone begins neutrally, but steadily darkens. He likes the Martian landscape of the state, but disdains most of the population, especially the white population. If only the Philistine white people would move away, Richard could go camping every weekend, all would be well. Well, not quite everyone. Richard himself and his six artsy, liberal friends can stay, everyone else vamoose.
The bad Richard’s creeping arrogance begins as few sour notes, then gathers steam and becomes explicit, toward the end of the book (examples below). Is Richard’s assessment of his white neighbors correct? If so, there’s a great journalistic opportunity, to find out how they became so evil. His website says, “Richard Grant is an author, journalist . . . [etc.]� but our foreign correspondent has no curiosity to spare for The Enemy.
[Waiting to enter a Trump rally, in high heat] I was too hot to do anything but breathe slowly and calmly, drink water and endure, but [my companion] Wayne stirred himself to photograph a smirking young dude from Glendale with a QAnon tattoo on his bicep. We asked him why he got the tattoo. He said, “Because I’m that friggin� hardcore,� and my desire to continue the interview faded away.
That’s when the conversation might have become interesting, but Richard ran away after asking one question. Richard left the Trump rally with a heavy heart. To cleanse his spirit, he ran immediately to someone pure, someone in touch with Earth and all goodness and light, a Native American. Who could have seen this coming?
[Hopi Tribe member] Jay [Koyiyumptewa] talked about all the New Agers in places like Santa Fe and Sedona, who revere the Hopi for their spirituality and want some of it for themselves. "All they see is the green leaves on the tree," he said. "They don't really see the trunk, or understand that the roots go way down into the earth, that this knowledge has been passed down over a long, long time. I don't mean to be rude, but white people have no idea what they're doing to the earth.�
Richard is British, and he just lets anyone insult his race with zero pushback. When difficulties arise, I do not want to be anywhere near this man. He goes further, agreeing and amplifying Jay’s racism. Self-hatred, here we come!
“We're a smash-and-grab people," I said. "Dig out the copper and gold. Log the forests. Kill all the buffalo. Use up the rivers and pump out the groundwater." "You really have no idea what you're doing and it's kind of amazing to us," he said. The cluelessness of my people did not prevent Jay and Denise from inviting me to Hopi, as they called the reservation. "Come up anytime," he said. "There's nothing to do and it's illegal to drink beer, but you might find it interesting." That night I slept well for once, and as I drifted off, I felt soothed and comforted by the fact that Arizona contained multitudes, that I could go to a Trump rally and make Hopi friends on the same evening, that I would find it interesting to visit Jay and Denise on the Hopi mesas, that there was more than enough in Arizona to keep me interested for the rest of my days.
Yes, he can go to a Trump rally, avoid learning anything meaningful about anyone around him, dismiss whatever he takes in, then kneel before his tribesman and apologize for his existence. This wasn’t the Race To The Bottom Of Crazy Richard wanted to document, but perhaps it was a more important subject, all along, not Arizona, but Richard and his tender sensibilities about who should be allowed to live there.
This book is a masterclass in memoir journalism. Grant beautifully weaves personal stories about himself, his past, his family, friends, and encounters with strangers with colorful journalistic, non-fiction prose. His tone is humble, honest, curious and throughout it feels as though he’s saying: “let’s try and make sense of this beautiful landscape and crazy shit together.�
I loved how each chapter had a 1-page FYI about Arizona’s wild history. Reading only those blurbs would be worth the price of the book.
I left the Phoenix area for good in December 1999 to join the Marines at age 20. This book filled me in on much of what I left behind.
I was born and raised in Arizona. My dad - originally from Chattanooga, Tennessee - was a theological seminary student at Bob Jones and Tennessee Temple Universities. The abundance of churches in the south meant that there must be places where churches weren’t as prevalent. So my parents looked to the American Southwest instead and became church-planting missionaries starting in the Phoenix area. I was born shortly after they arrived.
My parents chose Avondale as the place to raise a family with 6 children. Avondale was then a suburb of Phoenix near its desert margins. Today the unabashed expansion of the greater Phoenix area extends well beyond Avondale and it has become just another highway exit to sprawling subdivisions and shopping areas. With few natural boundaries like mountains or oceans to stunt its growth, Maricopa County is now the nation’s 4th most populated county behind the counties that make up Los Angeles, Chicago and Houston.
Since 1980, the county has grown from 1.5 million to 4.7 million residents - with no sign of stopping. This sustained annual growth rate of 2.3%, is higher than that of any other metropolis in the US. This means that most folks come to Arizona from elsewhere. This is a city of first and second generation transplants. With no historical ties to the land they now cohabitate, there is no shared culture of these people. This means the loudest and looniest, the richest and the most corrupt have their way because there are no norms, traditions or taboos to stop them.
Grant travels to many beautiful places and meets many interesting characters. Along the way we learn that Arizona has a long tradition of maverick politics: summarized in 3 points:
1) “no one can tell me what to do� 2) “the free market shall rule all� 3) “It is my god-given right to destroy nature and to live in disharmony with all other living things�
Decades of these political attitudes have made this a ripe environment for MAGA. I’m sure donald trump would be pleased to know that there are 170 golf courses in just one county - in the middle of the desert - each requiring about a million gallons of water per day in peak summer heat. Annually, this equates to the water usage of nearly 1.5 million county residents.
trump would also be pleased to know there are more gun-nuts in Arizona than anywhere else. If US civilians own 46% of guns worldwide, Arizona is on its way to owning 46% of national guns. Arizona kills 1300 annual residents with its own firearms by suicide (65%) homicide (32%) and accidental discharge (1-2%). In a land many perceive as being overrun by violent illegal immigrants and cartel thugs, the annual deaths attributed to these bogeymen equates roughly to the rates of accidental discharge deaths. The call is coming from inside the house.
Now for the personal application - How far can an apple fall from a tree? Does this also mean that I too am a product of this environment - this history? That I too am devoid of norms, traditions, and taboos? That I too must choose - consciously or unconsciously - to be a pawn or protestor of the loudest, looniest, richest and the most-corrupt?
Maybe it's a blessing in disguise to NOT be proud of one’s homeland & one’s people. Those things can be too confining and too defining anyway. The grapes are likely sour.
Maybe this deep shame I feel for the many ecological, economic and sociological woes Arizona prides itself in are the smoldering fires of my own phoenix-within. Right now, it burns though.
4.5 stars. I’m not a huge nonfiction girl, but my experience living in Tucson parallels the author’s enough that I couldn’t resist reading this. I’m so glad I did because not only was it fascinating and honest but it was also heartfelt. I love history but prefer to digest it slowly a little bite at a time, so the tidbits of history were the perfect dosage for me. The candid anthropological style of participant observation the author employed for the wilder events he attended was also super fun and thought-provoking. Having lived quite a few different places in America (and one in Europe), I appreciate the perspective the author brought to life in AZ. I also feel like I know my home a little better after having read this. So, thank you, Mr. Grant. Overall, a very entertaining and informative read.
4 Stars. Grant's easygoing writing style and the way he weaves past and present into a compelling narrative is a large part why I enjoyed this book. It weaves the larger context of Arizona (why it is the way it is) with his smaller story of becoming a father. In it, the story becomes a mix of memoir, history and investigation. While not all aspects of the story are compelling (I came to this story for his Arizona history and setting, not to learn about the tribulations of fatherhood), Grant at least did a good enough job of making the interesting material easy to digest, fascinating, and a joy to read. However, I will hesitate reading his other work if it also has such a focus on his personal family narrative.
I am a native Arizonan - the fifth generation of born to and raised by dairymen and cattle ranchers. I loved Richard Grant's dispatches. I have observed and commented myself on the coyote-like people who have moved into our desert flora-bunda and the never ending banana republic politics. If I had a nickel for every time I have asked a developer, "where will the water come from, we all live on the same aquifer?" I would be more than a millionaire. Anyone for guns, guns and throw in an AK47 for your grandson/daughter? Only in Arizona's craziness with a good dose of lawlessness are such things possible!
I have found a kindred soul who hit the nail on the head for each story told, word written and observation made. Outrageous, but magnificent Arizona is like no other place in the world.
Great book for homesick desert rats and people looking for an outsiders loving and caring view of a beautiful and overlooked environment. Alternating between his modern day struggles with moving back to Tucson and his nomadic adventures during his early 20s to late 40s. He truly admires every aspect of the state, even the oftentimes insane populace and moronic policies of its politicians. Each chapter begins with a historical anecdote that can range from comedic to horrifying and help illustrate the history behind some of Arizona’s strange habits.
Getting hyped for my trip to Arizona at the end of the month, lol! This was a relatively quick read, and has helped me piece together what little I knew about Arizona to begin with. This book covers a lot of ground, and it was a lot more about fatherhood than I had anticipated. However, Grant and I have a lot in common; we both are infatuated with America and why things are the way that they are here.
Wow, this was amazing and funny. The diverse people and landscapes of Arizona really come alive in the writing. I will have to check out Richard Grant’s other writings. This is the best book I could have picked up during my trip to Arizona. My favorite parts are about Chuck Bowden and how he dressed up as a frumpy middle-aged white guy to go undercover at a gun show. The insight into the Arizona MAGA scene was morbidly fascinating.
Not as much fun for me personally as Dispatches from Pluto but his style is undeniably fun to read. AZ is generally so upsetting in its modern politics that I'm happy he only weaves in and out of it rather than the book being entirely about it.
I loved it! Excellent mix of memor, research and reporting about the extreme collection of folks that collectively make up the State of Arizona. A page turner about how folks are drawn to conspiracy theories and other far out extremes in our post-truth world. Now I want to find Grant’s other books and read them. I always loved Charles Bowden and it’s great to find someone else who writes about the southwest.
The British writer Richard Grant has lived in Arizona for more than twenty years. It’s a place where social guardrails are weak, and outlandish behaviour is the order of the day. It’s also a place that doesn’t just reflect national trends, it exaggerates them. His new book mixes memoir, research and reporting to get to grips with the strange place he calls home. From the lure of the desert to existential questions about Arizona’s southern border and water shortages, to the bizarre spectacle of the world’s biggest machine gun shoot, there’s so much here for the curious reader.
Richard has become one of my favourite current writers, and I’m busy tracking down the rest of his work. I also read Crazy River this year, his book about a river journey in East Africa that also took him to the backstreets of Zanzibar, Rwanda and Burundi.
I've spoken with him twice on my Personal Landscapes podcast: about this book, and about Ghost Riders, his book on American nomads.