9 posts tagged “legal thriller”
Succumbing to a bank holiday offer of Just Take My Heart, Mary Higgins Clark’s umpteenth novel, at half-price in Borders, I spent a few happy hours in what I knew in advance would be an enjoyable and absorbing read. Mary Higgins Clark is completely reliable in delivering a suspenseful story about an independent heroine, an ordinary woman who has had to overcome personal tragedy and who is confronted by evil in some shape or form – which she faces and resolves according to her own wit, integrity and doggedness. These books are about fundamentally decent people – perhaps unrealistic, but always uplifting and guaranteed to raise the spirits.
Just Take My Heart is no exception. It tells the story of Emily Wallace, whose husband was killed in the Iraq war three years before the novel opens, and who is now a prosecutor. She is given a career-making case to try – that of Gregg Aldrich, a theatrical agent accused of killing his estranged wife, a renowned actress. The case is apparently open and closed, and much of the book is a traditional courtroom drama, with each side calling witnesses as the case plays out. The stronger her case, however, the less convinced is Emily that Gregg is guilty.
Various other typical Higgins Clark themes run through the novel – Emily is being stalked by a serial killer who lives next door and who has developed an unhealthy obsession with the attractive young lawyer. Emily’s boss, Ted, may be invited to take up a senior post in the new US President’s administration, so against her will, Emily gets caught up in manipulations and office politics. And of course there are a range of minor characters involved in the wealthy East Coast social scene from New York to New Jersey and Cape Cod.
The tension builds up as the jury returns a verdict – which far from achieving resolution, seems to throw up a whole new set of problems. Eventually, Emily realises she must look into the victim’s distant past in order to find out how she was killed – at the same time, understanding how she herself needs to accept her own husband’s death in order to move on with her own life.
Mary Higgins Clark delivers to a formula, but it is always superior formula, and I enjoyed this novel, like all her previous ones, very much. (I’m not so keen on her short stories or collaborative efforts.) Even though the solution to the mystery doesn’t seem to be that important, and the 'heart' theme perfunctory, the heroine, through sheer decency and honesty, with a dash of intelligence, comes good in the end, and the reader is right behind her, every step of the way.
Lilly Valentine is an attractive redhead, a solicitor with a heart of gold and a penchant for chocolate, ice cream and macaroni cheese. She is doing well on the lawyer's career ladder, having been promoted from representing children on legal aid into a more mainstream role, en route for a possible partnership with her Luton firm. Her personal life is looking good - although divorced and having to agree with ex-husband David's wish to educate their son Sam at the local public school, Lilly gets on well with everyone and is in a good relationship with devoted police detective Jack McNally, a handsome Irish charmer.
The main plot of this engaging novel involves asylum seekers, apparently from Kosovo. A group of these immigrants live in a hostel in the village, and at the start of the book one of them, Anna, is raped by two of the boys from Sam's posh school ,an event watched in horror by a third, Luke. Wracked with guilt, 16-year-old Luke runs away, unable to cope with telling his parents or teachers what has happened, or to face his guilty but unrepentant “friends”. Part of the book tells the story of Luke's survival on the streets of London's West End and the rough area of Peckham, where there is a project to help homeless youths. Luke meets the streetwise Caz, and together they try to survive. Parts of this plot are successful, bringing it home to the reader just how easy it is for people to slip through the net of society, but for some reason the author writes this sub-plot in the present tense, which for me grates a bit.
The main story concerns Lilly, who has reluctantly been drawn into looking after, and then defending, Anna when the vulnerable refugee is accused of being complicit in a crime. The girl is traumatized by her experiences so cannot explain the recent crime - and the only witness, Luke, has run away. Lilly knows that the only way she can help the girl is to discover her past experiences that have bought her to the United Kingdom, which eventually, when revealed, are unexpected and moving.
A PLACE OF SAFETY is written with sympathy and humour. There are many amusing set-pieces, and it is a relief to read about a heroine who is a size 14 and turns up to a memorial service in footless fishnet tights because that's all she has that is clean. At the same time, she's struggling with an ex-husband who has very different values, a confused son and an overdeveloped social conscience.
The author tries to make the reader question our cosy social assumptions, tackling racism, poverty and snobbery from all points of view. Some of the plot did not strike me as that authentic - would Lily really be left completely alone to deal with the entirety of Anna's case? Luke seems to fall in too easily with people who help him survive on the streets - though other parts of his experiences are harrowing and seem more authentic. Overall, I was impressed by the author's commitment and her ability to tell a good story while maintaining a clear moral voice.
The main character of THE CORONER is not a woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown, she a woman in the full process of breaking apart. This is one of the many factors that makes this book such a compelling, fascinating, almost voyeuristic read, as we wait with bated breath to see if Jenny Cooper will crash before she solves the crime.
As this assured novel opens, Jenny takes up her job as Coroner in Severn Vale District, on the English side of the Wales-Bristol border. She's recently divorced from David, a typical selfish, ambitious surgeon, who has custody of their teenage son Ross. Jenny is addicted to temazepan. She's been in therapy and although she shrugs off her treatment at the start of the novel, she's aware of some unacknowledged, unremembered trauma in her childhood which is central to her fragile state of mind.
After years as a lawyer in the child services, Jenny has taken her new job as a way to rejuvenate and recover. When she arrives at her new office, however, she does not find a welcoming committee. Harry Marshall, the previous Coroner for the region, has suddenly died of a coronary, and Jenny finds his office disorganised and dishevelled. There is no computer system, the place is falling apart, and the only assistant, Alison, operates out of the local police station - a situation that Jenny strongly feels compromises the independence of her office.
Rapidly acting to address all these details, Jenny immediately rubs up against Alison. One of the many pleasures of this book is the relationship between these two middle-aged women who have very different attitudes and education, yet while circling each other suspiciously over the running of the office, questions of loyalty to the dead previous incumbent, and the decorating, they come to realise they share common values concerning the truth.
The first part of the book focuses on Jenny's personality disintegration, conveying in a convincing way her internal conflicts and struggles while she maintains a professional facade - she's an addict in various ways, she's setting up in a new home in the aftermath of the wreckage of her marriage, and is trying to assert her control over her new domain despite an entrenched network of comfortable, mainly male, deals and compromises.
While all this is going on, the workload of reported deaths continues. Jenny isn't happy about the case of Katy Taylor, a teenager who has been found dead in a remote spot, apparently as a result of a heroin overdose. The girl was a known addict, but several things about the case don't fit. It is clear that Harry Marshall was investigating the circumstances until a few days before his death, but then certified Katy's demise without question - but, strangely, has left the file in a locked drawer in his desk. A journalist contacts Jenny about another case, that of another teenager called Danny who has committed suicide in a nearby young offenders' institution (aka privately owned prison). The boy's mother, a feckless dropout who has many children by as many fathers, is not satisfied by the official verdict, as she insists that her son was depressed but that nobody among the panoply of social workers, councillors, police and others would do anything to help.
The second half of the book, having established Jenny's character and circumstances, focuses on these two cases and cranks up the speed. Jenny is determined to do the right thing by the two dead youngsters, confronting an assorted range of professionals - the pathologist, the county council, the social worker, the police and others in her drive to arrive at the truth. As her investigation continues, she realises how implacable and heartless is her opposition. Yet she is undeterred, collecting together a rag-bag assortment of initially reluctant supporters.
THE CORONER is a marvellous book replete with authentic details - about the coroner's role, the court and the bureaucratic and political day-to-day manoeuvrings of the job - while at the same time being pacy and rich in characterisation and in the dynamics between characters. Jenny is an attractive heroine - a middle-aged woman - who mainly interacts with another middle-aged woman, her assistant Alison - who don't realise they are on the same side for some time but who gradually develop a common understanding and, once they have dropped their initial mistrust and suspicion of each other, a mutual respect. Jenny's personal life adds another dimension: her new start in rural Wales, and how she copes with her insufferable ex-husband in order to communicate with her son and to enable him to make his own choices rather than be railroaded by his father into a career as a doctor.
Jenny's addiction is a theme running throughout all these threads - her constant sense of falling over the precipice, her unease at the knowledge people have of her failings, her drive to control the investigation and her refusal to be browbeaten - are all shown through a haze of mental confusion and panic. As the book reaches its climax, there is a lovely Welsh nationalism aspect that strongly influences both Jenny's career and the outcome of the case.
The author's sympathy with the poor lost children condemned to a cruel fate in young offenders' institutions, where society can forget about them and where privatisation and the profit motive conspire to push them even further down their spirals of doom, resonates. The assured descriptions of the details and machinations of the local judicial systems are one of many absorbing aspects of this book. THE CORONER is a superb debut novel. I assume, and hope, that the author will continue writing about his engaging main character, her life, circumstances and cases.
The Brass Verdict is a superb novel. It is Michael Connelly’s nineteenth, displaying all the hallmarks of an author at the peak of his powers. I loved the book. If you’ve never read this author before, you could start with this title (it does not matter that characters in it have appeared in previous books), but you’ll probably then be compelled to seek out the entire back-catalogue.
One of the stars of Connelly’s books is Los Angeles; the town fits Harry Bosch, Mickey Haller and previous characters like a favourite old coat. Even though it is faded and has a few holes in the cloth, it’s the one you always choose to wear. The city is a presence that binds together the casts that enter and exit from the book; a presence that you know will be waiting for the next time.
The Brass Verdict is a good, old-fashioned story of the Raymond Chandler school, relying on plot, character and atmosphere rather than on special effects and gadgetry. Michael (Mickey) Haller is the Lincoln Lawyer who made his debut in the recent book of that title. He’s the son of a (deceased) famous lawyer to the stars, but he hasn’t repeated his father’s success. Instead he operates out of a car (he has three identical Lincolns), driving between courthouses, offices and police stations in the county as he picks up cases from people accused of the full gamut of crimes, from the most petty to the most serious.
As the new book opens, Mickey has been out of action for more than a year, owing to an injury and a subsequent addiction to painkillers. He’s bought sharply back into his law practice, however, when he prematurely inherits a colleague’s case load. It is one of these cases that forms the main plot of The Brass Verdict, though there are other stories weaving through the narrative. One of these features Harry Bosch, Connelly’s most regular character. Bosch is the officer investigating a murder, but we see him only through Mickey’s eyes in this novel, and not the usual Bosch point of view. The uneasy relationship between the two men, on opposite sides of the criminal fence, is one of many enjoyable themes of The Brass Verdict (a title explained at the end of the novel).
Connelly is a superb all-rounder. He’s great on male characters, managing to convey a combination of realism, toughness yet softness that is very appealing (he’s slightly less good at portraying women I think). The background details are, here as always, convincing and fascinating, whether about the intricacies of the legal system and how to play it, journalism, police procedures or what it’s like to be a movie producer. The plotting is excellent. The previous Mickey Haller book, good as it was, was slightly marred by an over-fanciful dénouement. There is none of that problem here; the plot hangs together tightly (the wobble I thought I’d detected in the penultimate chapter isn’t one), with drops and curve-balls in every chapter. The dramatic pace of the book is perfectly pitched throughout; the suspense is maintained by an interlocking series of questions and mysteries; and the writing is sensitive yet lean. Read the book. It’s great.
Michael Connelly’s website, including a list of all his books in chronological and series order.
The Book People are offering 10 of Michael Connelly’s previous books at the incredible price of £9.99. Snap them up!
The third outing for defence lawyer Guido Guerrieri is, if possible, even better than the previous two. At the start, Guido decides he loves his girlfriend Margherita and wants to have a child with her - though of course he doesn't tell her this, but assumes she'll tell him she's pregnant. Instead, she moves from Bari to New York for a new job. Guido mourns her absence and is sad that she doesn't come home for Christmas, but naturally does not contact her himself, so spends most of the book plagued by introspective worrying, feeling rejected and thinking that the relationship is over.
Guido has a similar attitude to his work. Feeling as if he is not much good as a lawyer, he's actually a lot cleverer than most of the rest of the legal profession who feature, simply by bothering about his job. The vignettes when clients visit his office are delightful, particularly a mother and daughter duo who had me laughing out loud. On the occasions when Guido contacts old friends and acquaintances for advice or help, he comes over not as he sees himself, but as a charming and witty person who they are only too eager to assist, so long as the cost to their own safety is not too great. This is the land of the mafia, after all.
Guido's latest client is Fabio Paolicelli, in prison for admitting to smuggling a large quantity of heroin in his car while returning from holiday in Montenegro. Recognising the name, Guido is convinced that Fabio was part of a Fascist gang who tormented him and other boys when he was young, but his memory is at odds with the sincere prisoner he encounters when they meet in person. A mutual respect develops between the two men as Guido finds out more about how Fabio came to be in the predicament he finds himself to be in.
The situation becomes complicated when Guido meets Fabio's beautiful wife Natsu and their young daughter. Guido's feelings are, predictably, mixed and his loyalties confused. Gradually, Guido pieces together a plausible alternative hypothesis for the crime in order to create reasonable doubts in the prosecution's account; the main joy of the book is the court case, the behaviour of the various witnesses and the reactions of the judges.
A thread running through this story, as in previous books in the series, is Guido's love of books and reading. There are some lovely scenes between him and the local bookseller, and some hints as to a future career in writing. Time will tell.
REASONABLE DOUBTS is an unpretentious, shiningly true book. Despite his own inner doubts, Guido enjoys his simple life of reading, going to the cinema to see old movies, occasional cooking and hanging out in his coastal home town, and the reader can only too well identify with his values. Fabio's story shows that change is possible: even for a youth who starts out as a thug can become a wiser man. Or can he? As you can imagine, Guido doesn't ask him, so we are left with some reasonable doubts about that.
The translation, by Howard Curtis, flows naturally, and I am sure other readers will, like me, be grateful to Bitter Lemon Press and the Arts Council of the UK for publishing this wonderful author in the English Language.
"There's a song...."
" 'Losing my religion'. "
She screwed up her eyes, then said yes. "You know what that means: losing my religion?"
"I know what it means literally. Is there another meaning?"
"It's an idiomatic expression. It means something like: I can't take it any more".
---------------
That's me in the corner
That's me in the spotlight
Losing my religion
Trying to keep up with you
And I don't know if I can do it
Oh no, I've said too much
And I haven't said enough.
-------------
Gianrico Carofiglio's second novel, A Walk in the Dark, is even better than his excellent debut, Involuntary Witness. Although translated with more assurance than Witness (this time by Howard Curtis), the author has matured, adding depth to the characters who appeared in the previous novel and introducing new ones who are instantly real. The confident dovetailing of back-story and character development as the plot unfolds is unfaltering.
Against the background of a legal case -- this time Guido Guerrieri is prosecuting a well-connected man for abusing his girlfriend -- the book is a perfect jewel. The themes are addiction -- to alcohol, cigarettes, fear or to a behaviour pattern -- and coping with the premature loss of a relationship -- by illness, death or cruelty. The context is corruption. I have some personal knowledge of the baroque and sinister lunacies of the Italian legal system, obviously not by any means as extensive as Carofiglio's (he used to be a judge), but enough to know that his accounts of the machinations are realistic.
The result is a powerful, insightful and compelling account of a tragedy -- or two or three. If you only read one book for the rest of this year, make it this one
I am fairly sure by Crimescraps out of Eurocrime, or vice versa, I recently came across a book so highly recommended that I could do nothing but read it. Involuntary Witness is by an Italian author, Gianrico Carofiglio, who according to the blurb is "an anti-mafia judge in the southern Italian city of Bari". First published in 2002, the book has been translated into English by Patrick Creagh, and was published in the UK in 2005.
Guido Guerrieri's marriage is on the rocks and he's a corrupt lawyer, representing people whom he despises for the money. From the Sartre-like pit of existential despair when it all goes wrong, Guerrieri's life begins to turn around when he is finessed into taking on the defence of a Sengalese man, a beach-peddler accused of murdering a small boy. The "Mockingbird" court case plays out in parallel with Guerrieri's spiritual rehabilitation and redemption.
I loved this fast-paced and compelling story. Not only for all the above reasons, but because of its sense of place. I've written before about placeism, and in that context of how John Grisham, although usually weak on plot, excels at conveying it. Carofiglio's Bari is in the same mould --- the details of life in this small Italian town illuminate the eternal dramatic themes. And it is good on plot, too.
This is a perfect miniature of a book --much shorter than Grisham, and all the better for it.
See here for the book's entry on the Italian Mysteries website.
Eurocrime reviews this book here (Karen Chisolm) and here (Karen Meek, who is Eurocrime herself).
Amazon UK listing is here, and Amazon US here. Go on, buy it!
I read The Colour of Law (yes, with a u) by Mark Giminez on Sunday. This is the book that got published by Doubleday becuase John Grisham was, that year, writing a non-fiction book.
The Colour of Law was marketed as "as good as Grisham or your money back". I was waiting for it to come out in paperback, but a shop in Kingston was selling the hardback for £5.99 (big yellow sticker). As another, silver sticker on the cover said "As good as Grisham or your money back -- £9.99", I thought I could not lose -- in fact, I could only win, surely?
Well, it isn't as good as Grisham. But I'm not going to ask for my money back either, as it isn't that bad. It is just totally predictable as soon as the set-up is described: rich, handsome young lawyer with adorable cute daughter, gorgeous wife, red Ferrari, mansion; earns tons of money working for evil corporations; is manipulated into defending a heroin-addicted prostitute accused of murdering a good-for-nothing son of a powerful senator/presidential hopeful. I won't say any more, but if you had to guess the rest of the plot from that sentence, you would be quite correct. (You probably would not also need the prologue "To Kill a Mockingbird" heavy hint.)
The book is readable enough, and short, but so utterly predictable in absolutely every way, it is kind of hard to see the point. OK for a flight if you've already read The Da Vinci Code, I suppose ;-)
I am really enjoying the Grisham (slightly against expectations). The book (The Broker) is mainly about the minutiae of an American adapting to life in a smallish Italian city. There is a prefunctory spy plot framing it, but the book is really about the details of the Italian life: eating and drinking in cafes, the architecture, people "living where they work". Somehow, this on its own is compelling, the spy plot does not seem to matter very much. The book reminds me of his fairly recent "The Last Juror" in which he wrote in a similar style about a newspaper editor in a small southern US town before the advent of chain stores and the "modern world". I am not sure how much realism there was among the nostalgia -- was it ever as idyllic as portrayed? Probably not but it was a damn good read. Grisham has sustained his talent over a large number of books and delievers the goods for his readers, unlike James Patterson, whose books have plummeted in quality over the years. Surprisingly, despite this treatment of his readers, his sales remain high.
