1. The Partner ⭐⭐
A Lost Bet by Grisham
When one embarks upon a novel by John Grisham (or at least, when one did so in the 1980s…), one typically anticipates a tightly woven plot, palpable suspense, and characters operating in the murky borderlands of legality. Regrettably, with The Partner, Grisham delivers a work that resembles a draft more than a fully realised thriller.
The premise, admittedly, is enticing: a lawyer who fakes his own death in order to abscond with ninety million dollars. However, what ensues is a tangle of clichés, clumsy twists, and characters so thinly drawn that they resemble mere sketches.
The pacing of the novel is excruciatingly uneven. While it begins with a certain vigour, it soon descends into pages upon pages of narrative inertia. Interrogation scenes and legal minutiae—once Grisham’s trademark—here feel perfunctory, as though inserted solely to pad the manuscript.
The protagonist, Patrick Lanigan, never quite convinces. He functions more as a narrative device than as a fully fleshed-out character. His decisions seem arbitrary, often defying logic, while his supposed inner turmoil is obscured by the anaemic development of his psychological portrait.
The climax, far from cathartic or shocking, is merely... infuriating. The final twist—or rather, the glaring absence of one—feels like an act of authorial indolence. There is no emotional payoff, no cleansing resolution. Only a flat denouement to a tale that promised much and delivered precious little.
It is a pity when a writer of Grisham’s talent (scoff if you must, but he has delivered solid work within the genre) and experience turns in something so tepid and uninspired. The Partner is not merely a mediocre novel. It is a sobering reminder that even the most successful authors can become lost in their own formula, or unwilling—or contractually obliged—not to say no to one book too many.
2. The Street Lawyer ⭐
At the moment when junior partner (promising, eager young lawyer and wannabe yuppie) Michael Brock is wiping off the blood and splattered brains of the homeless man—who had taken a group of corporate lawyers hostage, including Brock himself, only to be shot dead by a police sniper—he experiences a full-blown crisis of conscience and resolves to fight for what is right and what is just.
Since, at the time the book was written, the internet was still non-existent (fax machines were all the rage), instead of launching an OnlyFans account on Insta, spouting conspiracy theories on Facebook, or having earnest SJW-style online spats with strangers, Brock is forced to act in the real world: he takes up a post at a legal aid office, parts ways with his already emotionally distant wife (a doctor, who is utterly appalled that Michael will now be working for less moneyyyAAARGHH), starts feeding people at soup kitchens and dicing onions for the homeless stews, and, quite suddenly, begins to genuinely care whether each of his addict clients has stayed off crack for more than 24 hours.
In short, he becomes one of the vanishingly few lawyers in Washington with anything resembling a conscience—while all the other jaded cynics are still charging rabidly after MONEYYYAAARGHH.
Tragic and poorly written works like this are precisely the reason I no longer pre-order Grisham’s books. I simply wait a few months post-release and pick them up for… approximately £0.99. Because that’s all they’re worth. A pity, really, given that the author has, in the past, delivered some truly fine novels.
3. A time to kill ⭐⭐⭐⭐
A Time to Kill is a harrowing and profoundly emotional legal thriller that marked the striking debut of John Grisham—long before some of his later, less compelling works captivated the public and… made their way to the silver screen. Set against the backdrop of the American South and a racially charged society, the novel poses fundamental moral questions which remain pressing to this day.
The story centres on the trial of an African-American father who kills the two white men who brutally raped his ten-year-old daughter. Grisham constructs the courtroom tension with remarkable deftness, holding the reader in suspense throughout. The characters are skilfully developed, especially Jake Brigance, the young lawyer tasked with defending the father, who must also confront a community seething with rage and prejudice.
Grisham’s prose is gripping and rich in detail, balancing the legal intensity with moments of genuine humanity that lend depth to the narrative. While the plot does slow somewhat at certain junctures—a forgivable trait in one’s first novel—the overall effect is undeniably powerful.
Overall, A Time to Kill is a compelling novel that does not shy away from confronting the reader with thorny moral dilemmas. It is a work well worth reading—not merely for its plot, but for the strength of the themes it so boldly engages with—especially when contrasted (one might say, in stark antithesis) with Grisham’s later and, dare one say, lamentable publications.