Florida surfing, Florida stories
On A Rising Swell: Surf Stories From Florida’s Space Coast by Dan Reiter (University Press of Florida, 2025)
Reviewed by Elizabeth Stice
In the introduction to On a Rising Swell, author Dan Reiter says “increasingly, and in reputable circles, I’ve heard the phrase ‘surf literature’ spoken out loud, and without a trace of irony. It seems to me to be a bit of a stretch to bank a genre on the theme of chasing bubbles” (ix). But if there is such a thing as surf literature, Reiter’s book is in that category. Reiter is a “surfer, writer, and general contractor.” His writing work has been appearing in publications like The Surfer’s Journal, Kenyon Review, and McSweeney’s and this 2025 book is a compilation of new and old pieces. The chapters are mostly short, “surf-adjacent vignettes” and may even be said to come on like a set of waves (xiii).
On a Rising Swell centers Florida surfing and “stories from Florida’s space coast.” When people think of surfing, they don’t usually think of Florida. The probably think about Hawaii, maybe followed by California. They probably even think of Bali before they think of Florida. Florida just isn’t known for great waves, but, somehow, it is known for great surfers. The greatest of all time, Kelly Slater, hails from Cocoa Beach. Other famous Florida surfers include the legends Lisa Andersen, Jeff Crawford, CJ Hobgood, and Caroline Marks. This book is designed to show appreciation for Florida surfing and to explain what makes it so special.
The thesis advanced by Reiter, and many surfers, is that Florida surfers are great precisely because the waves aren’t great. Florida surfers grow up surfing all kinds of things--small waves, mushy waves, waves that you wouldn’t bother with if you grew up in Hawaii. Being great on sometimes bad waves elevates your game. Another upside to Florida is that it’s warm enough to get in the water all the time. And the culture in a place like Cocoa Beach is just the right kind to cultivate great surfers. There is a local history of surfing, local shapers, and a scene which helps young surfers grow into greats.
On every page of On a Rising Swell, a love for surfing and Florida surfing, in particular, shines through. Reiter describes the pieces as “inside jokes, abbreviated histories and revelations, fragments of interviews, free-floating sketches braided together only by the tenuous thread that is surfing, and specifically surfing in this subtropical zone between Cape Canaveral and Sebastian Inlet, Florida. Together, they form a paean to the Space Coast—this insignificant, dribbly waved stretch of sand that has somehow spawned an impossible number of world surfing champions, Pipe masters, and iconic surfboard builders—where the coconut palms occasionally freeze in winter, and where it is not uncommon to witness a rocket launch from the comfort of your surfboard” (xiii). You can sip the chapters at your leisure and they go down easily.
On a Rising Swell is not the Bildungsroman that William Finnegan’s Barbarian Days is, but it has some of the same elements. Through the chapters, a narrative emerges. It begins with a young man without much direction, enjoying California. He becomes a kook. He is called back to Florida, where he begins to work construction and to evolve from kook to something more. He is drawn to Cocoa Beach, eventually committing more of his time there, then building a life there. He gets better at surfing, he gets married, they buy a house, and they have some children. His time in Cocoa Beach is like Alan Jackson’s time “way down yonder on the Chattahoochee,” he learns “a lot about living and a little ‘bout love.” Though not always foregrounded, the narrative keeps the book and the reader moving forward.
On a Rising Swell is capable of reaching a wide audience. The descriptions of waves and technique, the stories of Florida legends, and the firsthand accounts will no doubt please readers who surf. There are references that surfers will expect and appreciate. No one seems to mind a Kelly Slater interview, either. Yet Reiter leaves room for the uninitiated, and the kook, by offering up footnotes for vocabulary and by explaining the beauty he sees in the Space Coast surfing culture. On a Rising Swell can also be amusing, as it is in “Passages from the Surfer’s Bible,” which riffs on Bible verses, and offers up alternative plagues. Plague VIII. is Hammerheads, “And I will bring blunt-headed sharks into your country. They shall fill the sea and devour the last remnant of you in the water after the on-shores” (39). IX. is Boils, “And I will make the sun burn your flesh, so that boils come up on the surface of your skin” (39). Though he pokes fun at tourists and his earlier self, Reiter refrains from meanness. On a Rising Swell is a pleasant read, comparable to a nice breeze. The writing is often beautiful.
As with every book involving surfing, On a Rising Swell offers some thoughts on why people surf. Among other things, Reiter suggests that: “When we surf, we are simultaneously weightless and deeply rooted. We are literally pouring forward, a sensation that cannot be replicated on dry land” (57). We also surf “to inhabit that borderland between states of matter, that evanescent fringe between water and air” and “to remind ourselves that the only thing constant in the world is change. That every ride is temporary” (57). In these pages, surfing is cast as a form of leisure the ancient Greeks and Romans would have recognized, a non-productive effort that aids contemplation. Surfing is not just a hobby, it is a space for viewing the world and the self.
This book offers a refreshing perspective on Florida. These pages have nothing to do with “Florida man” and his lawlessness, little to do with snowbirds, and have no recommendations for bagel places. Reiter writes lovingly about the state of Florida that “sits atop a submerged platform of karst limestone, a geological shelf constructed from the skeletons of dead marine organisms—foraminifera, mollusks, echinoids, algae, and coral—who dropped their bones overtop the bones of the generations who came before them. This pileup of carbonate material runs 3 miles thick, a porous underwater mausoleum cut through by rivers, caves, sinkholes, and freshwater springs. The spiritually inclined might even imagine occult vibrations swimming through the latticework, the ghosts of creatures who respired and reproduced (and perhaps even dreamed) right here beneath our feet” (17). He reaches back to pre-European history, recounts the glory days of 1970s Cocoa Beach surfing, and takes us forward, to finding and surfing the rapidly appearing and disappearing sandbars of today. We meet local shapers and surfers and can get a sense of what it is like to sit in certain cafés and chat. The Florida in this book is a well-loved and well-known place. Perhaps that is the same thing.
On a Rising Swell is an excellent example of why a state university press is so valuable. There is a reverence for place and for localism broadly in these pages. The University Press of Florida does not exclusively publish books about Florida, but its catalog includes many books about Florida, which assume an audience that begins locally and expands to the national stage. It is entirely refreshing. Reiter’s memories of the 2004 hurricanes, Frances and Jeanne, will mirror those of some readers. His discussion of beach renourishment is a familiar topic to any number of Florida coastal towns. Occasional commentary on Disney tourist spillover may be more regional, but nearly every part of Florida attracts tourists. This is a book for the Space Coast, but it is also a book for all the people of Florida.
On a Rising Swell is also a reminder that we all live in the shadow of Kelly Slater. Cocoa Beach is like other communities, shaped to some extent by its offspring. Reiter describes the bronze statue of Slater in Cocoa Beach and shares some interviews with Slater. But anyone remotely aware of surfing recognizes that he is now inseparable from the sport, even where there is no statue. He has helped to define surfing in our era. Will anyone win like Slater has? Will anyone compete as old as he has? The past 25 years has been an era of greats, in many sports. Those who have watched tennis, or basketball, or football, or golf, or surfing, etc. in the first stage of the twenty-first century have been blessed to witness many GOATs. Perhaps relatedly, many of them live in Florida. There is a link between Florida and many of the greats.
On a Rising Swell leaves the reader wanting more from Reiter and hopefully appreciating more about life in Florida. According to Reiter: “Here, on Florida’s barrier island, you learn to be grateful. To keep the waves with you, even after they have broken and dissipated. To listen for the voices, gathering and straining through the vapor, reminding us that we are merely solid in flow state. Like the sand. Like the waves. Here and gone, we leave no mark” (148). It is a philosophical perspective and the product of time spent on local sand and water. This book is a good reminder of the ways in which Florida is a place to pursue the good life.
Elizabeth Stice is a professor of history and assistant director of the honors program at Palm Beach Atlantic University. When she can, she reads and writes about World War I and she is the author of Empire Between the Lines: Imperial Culture in British and French Trench Newspapers of the Great War (2023).
