A review of 'The Testament' by John Grisham
Note: The following review was originally published at Amazon.co.uk on 12th. July 2017. Link to original review: https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/customer-reviews/R3CMS687MT0KC7?ref=pf_ov_at_pdctrvw_srp
Self-made billionaire Troy Phelan, an aging and eccentric Zoroastrian, is dying and decides to hold a meeting with his presumed beneficiaries - various spoilt children and ex-wives in the several - at which he demonstrates his mental capacity to make a last will and promises that he will divide his considerable fortune between them. Phelan then dies - he jumps to his death, rather like Zoroastrians believe the dead descend to Hell - and the contents of a hitherto-undisclosed holographic will reveal that he has in fact left almost-all his estate to an illegitimate daughter who works as a missionary, with notional bequests to the children allowing them to clear their debts only, and nothing for the aforesaid ex-wives. There is then the inevitable legal wrangling over whether Phelan's estate is testate, with greedy lawyers in on the act. If it isn't, then the relevant state law divides the estate among the children, so a great deal is at stake in the litigation. Meanwhile, efforts are made to track down the mysterious beneficiary, Rachel, a missionary believed to be working somewhere in South America. The central character in the story is a washed-up lawyer, Nate O'Reilly, who is sent to a remote part of Brazil to track the beneficiary down. Nate is short for Nathan, a Hebrew name that has the meaning of 'to give'. The beneficiary is Rachel, another Hebrew name that has the meaning 'ewe' or 'little lamb', symbolising purity.
Beyond the rudimentary onomastics, the characters are unfortunately quite flat and one-dimensional, but then, this is a Grisham novel, not Dickens. I did find it difficult to sympathise with any of the characters, even those who I was meant to sympathise with. For instance, Rachel, the Phelan beneficiary and Christian medico-missionary, seemed to me rather dreary and frustrating - and frankly, deluded with an over-the-top commitment to her faith and social views - and I am also not sure I agree with her central mission: aiding Pantanal Indians and converting them to Christianity. It seems to me that what the Pantanal Indians are really likely to want is simply to be left alone, even by people like Rachel who genuinely mean to help them. Rachel is depriving them of self-determination and sovereignty and, caught up in her own idealism, perhaps hasn't stopped to contemplate why some of the Indians react in a hostile and even violent way to her efforts to bring a universalist faith into their lives. They do so because their own customs, beliefs and traditions are part of what they are as a people. In a curious sort of way, Rachel's actions are narrow and selfish, and the Indians rightly resent Rachel for her intrusion and her unwitting attack on their identity. Rachel professes that money does not interest her and she does not want her father's bequest, but in a way that is also selfish, since it must be obvious that - apart from anything else - the money would assist Rachel's mission.
An undercurrent of the story seems to be various morally and ethically unattractive people facing judgement for their actions, some of them going on a kind of religious journey towards redemption and forgiveness, or at least punishment: there is the example set by Phelan himself, who jumps to what seems to be his figurative Hell; there are also his wives and children for their recklessness and avarice, in which they possibly face ending up with nothing and in debt; the lawyers, whose greed takes over their ethical judgement; and Nate O'Reilly in particular, who is facing a criminal indictment for income tax evasion, which could result in prison and will lead to his suspension or disbarment as a lawyer. O'Reilly's search for redemption and forgiveness and his journey is a pillar of the story: first he experiences something analogous to limbo, then he goes through a kind of 'Hell', before finishing up in purgatory in the hands of a local priest who may be the adoptive father of the beneficiary (though this is not spelled out). All this religious meaning is also reflected in a very obvious way in the title of the novel. There is an interesting early change of voice in the novel from Phelan to Nate, that the author anchors well, and which seems allusory and Biblical. Other important (and more immediate) themes of the story include the conflict between old money and new, the role of fathers and fatherhood and the effect on children of a bad or absent father, and the usual legal issues and conflicts related to the law and lawyers that come up in this sort of fiction, some of which I expand on below. There is also the long-running Grisham narrative here of how money can be poisonous and can corrupt people, and the need to find value in things that are beyond money, such as faith and commitment.
As one would expect, Grisham captures a lot of the legal drama quite well, and I found in this novel he is particularly good on the effect of witness malfeasance and the strategies and tactics used by lawyers in litigation. However, surprisingly for a lawyer-turned-writer, Grisham also demonstrates touches of legal naiveté at times. Some points that stand out:
(i). The law firm acting for Troy Phelan do so as his private and corporate lawyers. That presents an immediate conflict in two respects. First, there is the conflict between the client's private interests and the corporate interests of the entities he owns. In the real-world, Phelan would have at least two law firms that he would use frequently, one for private matters, the other corporate, but he would probably have more due to potential conflict between different companies in the corporate group. The other conflict arises following Phelan's death and is in respect of the probate dispute. As Phelan's private lawyers, I think it is doubtful that the same firm could also act in the probate litigation without a serious conflict arising. The principal partner was privy to all the deceased personal and business dealings, and so would be a potential witness. They would almost certainly need to appoint separate lawyers to act for the estate in the litigation.
(ii). Grisham's lawyer-characters at times don't appear to grasp client confidentiality. At one point, we have a lawyer in detailed 'off-the-record' discussions with the judge in a contentious probate case. At other points, the main character is discussing details of a sensitive probate case with complete strangers.
(iii). On the subject of the discussions with the judge, these only take place with one side in the litigation and without the knowledge of the other party. This seems to help the plot along, but in the real world would never happen. It would be highly improper and, if discovered, would almost-certainly lead to that judge having to recuse himself from the case and possibly face disciplinary action. I imagine in practice there will be situations where a judge might need to quickly check something with one party, but this would be rare and in most cases can wait until a hearing with both parties present. Any such communication outside a hearing would have to involve an opportunity for the other party to be present or listening in, if on the phone, or at the very least, with the other party promptly notified of what occurred.
(iv). Grisham presents a very simplistic picture of the work of expert witnesses. A naive reader might come away with the impression that expert witnesses are 'guns for hire', but that is emphatically not the case. As with lawyers, the first duty of the expert witness is not to the client, but to the court and the interests of justice. An expert witness is not being paid for his testimony, as such, but for his expertise and ought to be assisting the court.
(v). As seems to be the case in all Grisham's novels when he touches on this subject-matter, the professional agreements between the lawyers and their clients seem champertous on the face of it, as they involve the lawyers taking a direct percentage of their clients' settlements and in effect controlling the strategic conduct of the cases; however, my knowledge is of English law, whereas the law may work differently in this regard in parts of the United States. I do know that champerty is a recognised common law doctrine in the US, and while I have no knowledge of the details of how the doctrine is applied in the courts of the different states there, it does seem to me a bit far-fetched to assume that such agreements would be upheld by the courts. In reality, I would expect the lawyers in a case such as this to be more careful, as they run the very real risk of having their professional remuneration challenged by their clients. I would assume that, in practice, lawyers in the US have third party funding arrangements for this sort of thing, normally insurance-based, and that on settlement, the lawyers would be settling on the basis that they take their fees and the legal funding insurance premium out of the estate, not out of each client's agreed share of the estate (if you see the difference). Why doesn't Grisham write his plots on this premise?
(vi). At one point, it is stated that the deceased character has asked that there be no funeral service. Whether or not in the will itself (here it wasn't), such a request cannot bind the family of the deceased, even if they are not executors and have no control of the body.
Maybe the smoothing over of these points is down to a need on Grisham's part to be a writer first, lawyer second, and to have a plot that appeals to his average reader as profiled by his publisher, but the technical niggles grate with me. Also, while I often enjoy the jaundiced and cynical way Grisham portrays lawyers - especially Patton French, his best creation by far, maybe the best in popular fiction, but a character he doesn't use here - while reading The Testament I found myself become weary of his cartoonish exaggerations, which does not just attack lawyers but also their clients and the work of expert witnesses. Maybe I have read one too many Grishams, but given the author's professional background, I would expect a more nuanced picture than that he presents. By all means, demonise lawyers if that's the human interest angle - demonise engineers, demonise dustbin men, demonise doctors, whatever is the running topic, if that's the story - but there are ways to do it without insulting the reader's intelligence. On the other hand, Grisham does create scenarios that tell us something about the mundane conflicts facing lawyers in their work: for example, between the interests of justice and the duties owed to the court on the one hand, and on the other, the interests of clients. However, the treatment of these issues in Grisham's work is crude and unsophisticated and doesn't go beyond highlighting them.
Another aspect of Grisham's writing that I have come to dislike is his incessant political correctness and piousness about the supposed faults and flaws of Western societies in comparison to Third World countries or non-white ethnic minorities. It's irritating. Grisham is obsessed with white guilt and moral relativism in particular, to the point of fetishising it. In the monologues of his characters, he even occasionally uses the words 'civilised' and 'civilisation' to juxtapose the culture he wants to malign with the culture he wishes to portray as victims. For instance: "Land means everything to the Indians. It is their life. Most of it has been taken away by the civilised folks." [p. 261]. He portrays Nate O'Reilly, a white man, as clumsy and inept while in Brazil, in contrast to the capable natives - though two of the Brazilians do manage to get the characters lost while flying and boating respectively. He romanticises South Americans somewhat (though not necessarily their society), while demonising whites, especially rich or wealthy white people. At one point, he sneeringly refers to "inbreeding" in a rich white family [p. 131], something I find quite ironic from somebody who claims to oppose racism. Grisham is a white American himself, so this is just self-hatred, but then he is a product of his time and circumstances. However, Grisham's PC obsessions do, here, raise a more substantive question to ponder: whether the sort of life apparently promised in Third World countries such as Brazil is more attractive and would be better for us as people than the materialistic life offered in Western countries. The author depicts Brazil as a society in which everything moves more slowly and in which even commerce is conducted at a sedate pace. This is Brazilian time and more 'Brazilian hours' are needed for any complicated task than would be required in the West. During Nate's adventure in the Pantanal, a vast swamp region, time in the sense that we recognise it in the West stops completely, no watches are worn, and the cares of 'civilisation', including the probate case that brought him there, seem remote and other-worldly. Whether this is an accurate depiction of the real Brazil (this was in any case written in 1999) or a romanticisation on Grisham's part is another matter, but the experience certainly does Nate some good. The law is an alienating profession - something Grisham always conscientiously attempts to convey to readers - and Nate's 'back to Nature' experience seems to transform him spiritually. The native Brazilians in the story also seem to like their surroundings on the Pantanal, but at the same time one of the Brazilian characters seem keen to move to the United States. This aspiration is perhaps based on a naive or incomplete understanding of what American society is like.
Grisham's research in The Testament is excellent, probably the best of all his work. One of the things I admire about Grisham is that he manages to integrate some pretty thorough and detailed research into his stories without it wearing heavy. This shows considerable skill. We learn a great a deal about Brazil in this book, especially the Pantanal region, its wildlife and their native Indian tribes, but Grisham imparts these interesting details in just the right way through the dialogue of his characters and the circumstances in which he situates them, and without being overbearing about it. He doesn't burden his readers with information dumps in the way that lots of other popular authors do (Frederick Forsyth being a good example of this irritating tendency). Anybody who wants to become a better writer could do worse than to carefully study The Testament and some of Grisham's other novels with this point in mind.
However, I think The Testament is pretty average overall. The problem goes back to Grisham's inherent conservatism as a writer, a literary attribute exemplified in this novel. The plot is not imaginatively developed and lacks that indefinable 'spark' that separates the average from the good. There are no twists or surprises here. Grisham could have taken the concept of a last will and testament into some interesting territory, there are enough precedents in literature, and the use of an absent beneficiary set the scene for what could have been a very exciting story. Instead, he has produced a work that is staid and peters out predictably. Unfortunately, most of Grisham's work has this flaw, and in my opinion, he has only written a handful of really good novels - The Firm and The King of Torts being among them. Then again, he is a multi-millionaire novelist with an eye for two particular markets: the casual, low intellect airport/dentist's waiting room readership and Hollywood film producers. That's how he has become successful. It's business. Can we blame him? If he had set out to become a more interesting writer, he might not be as successful as he is today, and he wouldn't be rich.
Beyond the rudimentary onomastics, the characters are unfortunately quite flat and one-dimensional, but then, this is a Grisham novel, not Dickens. I did find it difficult to sympathise with any of the characters, even those who I was meant to sympathise with. For instance, Rachel, the Phelan beneficiary and Christian medico-missionary, seemed to me rather dreary and frustrating - and frankly, deluded with an over-the-top commitment to her faith and social views - and I am also not sure I agree with her central mission: aiding Pantanal Indians and converting them to Christianity. It seems to me that what the Pantanal Indians are really likely to want is simply to be left alone, even by people like Rachel who genuinely mean to help them. Rachel is depriving them of self-determination and sovereignty and, caught up in her own idealism, perhaps hasn't stopped to contemplate why some of the Indians react in a hostile and even violent way to her efforts to bring a universalist faith into their lives. They do so because their own customs, beliefs and traditions are part of what they are as a people. In a curious sort of way, Rachel's actions are narrow and selfish, and the Indians rightly resent Rachel for her intrusion and her unwitting attack on their identity. Rachel professes that money does not interest her and she does not want her father's bequest, but in a way that is also selfish, since it must be obvious that - apart from anything else - the money would assist Rachel's mission.
An undercurrent of the story seems to be various morally and ethically unattractive people facing judgement for their actions, some of them going on a kind of religious journey towards redemption and forgiveness, or at least punishment: there is the example set by Phelan himself, who jumps to what seems to be his figurative Hell; there are also his wives and children for their recklessness and avarice, in which they possibly face ending up with nothing and in debt; the lawyers, whose greed takes over their ethical judgement; and Nate O'Reilly in particular, who is facing a criminal indictment for income tax evasion, which could result in prison and will lead to his suspension or disbarment as a lawyer. O'Reilly's search for redemption and forgiveness and his journey is a pillar of the story: first he experiences something analogous to limbo, then he goes through a kind of 'Hell', before finishing up in purgatory in the hands of a local priest who may be the adoptive father of the beneficiary (though this is not spelled out). All this religious meaning is also reflected in a very obvious way in the title of the novel. There is an interesting early change of voice in the novel from Phelan to Nate, that the author anchors well, and which seems allusory and Biblical. Other important (and more immediate) themes of the story include the conflict between old money and new, the role of fathers and fatherhood and the effect on children of a bad or absent father, and the usual legal issues and conflicts related to the law and lawyers that come up in this sort of fiction, some of which I expand on below. There is also the long-running Grisham narrative here of how money can be poisonous and can corrupt people, and the need to find value in things that are beyond money, such as faith and commitment.
As one would expect, Grisham captures a lot of the legal drama quite well, and I found in this novel he is particularly good on the effect of witness malfeasance and the strategies and tactics used by lawyers in litigation. However, surprisingly for a lawyer-turned-writer, Grisham also demonstrates touches of legal naiveté at times. Some points that stand out:
(i). The law firm acting for Troy Phelan do so as his private and corporate lawyers. That presents an immediate conflict in two respects. First, there is the conflict between the client's private interests and the corporate interests of the entities he owns. In the real-world, Phelan would have at least two law firms that he would use frequently, one for private matters, the other corporate, but he would probably have more due to potential conflict between different companies in the corporate group. The other conflict arises following Phelan's death and is in respect of the probate dispute. As Phelan's private lawyers, I think it is doubtful that the same firm could also act in the probate litigation without a serious conflict arising. The principal partner was privy to all the deceased personal and business dealings, and so would be a potential witness. They would almost certainly need to appoint separate lawyers to act for the estate in the litigation.
(ii). Grisham's lawyer-characters at times don't appear to grasp client confidentiality. At one point, we have a lawyer in detailed 'off-the-record' discussions with the judge in a contentious probate case. At other points, the main character is discussing details of a sensitive probate case with complete strangers.
(iii). On the subject of the discussions with the judge, these only take place with one side in the litigation and without the knowledge of the other party. This seems to help the plot along, but in the real world would never happen. It would be highly improper and, if discovered, would almost-certainly lead to that judge having to recuse himself from the case and possibly face disciplinary action. I imagine in practice there will be situations where a judge might need to quickly check something with one party, but this would be rare and in most cases can wait until a hearing with both parties present. Any such communication outside a hearing would have to involve an opportunity for the other party to be present or listening in, if on the phone, or at the very least, with the other party promptly notified of what occurred.
(iv). Grisham presents a very simplistic picture of the work of expert witnesses. A naive reader might come away with the impression that expert witnesses are 'guns for hire', but that is emphatically not the case. As with lawyers, the first duty of the expert witness is not to the client, but to the court and the interests of justice. An expert witness is not being paid for his testimony, as such, but for his expertise and ought to be assisting the court.
(v). As seems to be the case in all Grisham's novels when he touches on this subject-matter, the professional agreements between the lawyers and their clients seem champertous on the face of it, as they involve the lawyers taking a direct percentage of their clients' settlements and in effect controlling the strategic conduct of the cases; however, my knowledge is of English law, whereas the law may work differently in this regard in parts of the United States. I do know that champerty is a recognised common law doctrine in the US, and while I have no knowledge of the details of how the doctrine is applied in the courts of the different states there, it does seem to me a bit far-fetched to assume that such agreements would be upheld by the courts. In reality, I would expect the lawyers in a case such as this to be more careful, as they run the very real risk of having their professional remuneration challenged by their clients. I would assume that, in practice, lawyers in the US have third party funding arrangements for this sort of thing, normally insurance-based, and that on settlement, the lawyers would be settling on the basis that they take their fees and the legal funding insurance premium out of the estate, not out of each client's agreed share of the estate (if you see the difference). Why doesn't Grisham write his plots on this premise?
(vi). At one point, it is stated that the deceased character has asked that there be no funeral service. Whether or not in the will itself (here it wasn't), such a request cannot bind the family of the deceased, even if they are not executors and have no control of the body.
Maybe the smoothing over of these points is down to a need on Grisham's part to be a writer first, lawyer second, and to have a plot that appeals to his average reader as profiled by his publisher, but the technical niggles grate with me. Also, while I often enjoy the jaundiced and cynical way Grisham portrays lawyers - especially Patton French, his best creation by far, maybe the best in popular fiction, but a character he doesn't use here - while reading The Testament I found myself become weary of his cartoonish exaggerations, which does not just attack lawyers but also their clients and the work of expert witnesses. Maybe I have read one too many Grishams, but given the author's professional background, I would expect a more nuanced picture than that he presents. By all means, demonise lawyers if that's the human interest angle - demonise engineers, demonise dustbin men, demonise doctors, whatever is the running topic, if that's the story - but there are ways to do it without insulting the reader's intelligence. On the other hand, Grisham does create scenarios that tell us something about the mundane conflicts facing lawyers in their work: for example, between the interests of justice and the duties owed to the court on the one hand, and on the other, the interests of clients. However, the treatment of these issues in Grisham's work is crude and unsophisticated and doesn't go beyond highlighting them.
Another aspect of Grisham's writing that I have come to dislike is his incessant political correctness and piousness about the supposed faults and flaws of Western societies in comparison to Third World countries or non-white ethnic minorities. It's irritating. Grisham is obsessed with white guilt and moral relativism in particular, to the point of fetishising it. In the monologues of his characters, he even occasionally uses the words 'civilised' and 'civilisation' to juxtapose the culture he wants to malign with the culture he wishes to portray as victims. For instance: "Land means everything to the Indians. It is their life. Most of it has been taken away by the civilised folks." [p. 261]. He portrays Nate O'Reilly, a white man, as clumsy and inept while in Brazil, in contrast to the capable natives - though two of the Brazilians do manage to get the characters lost while flying and boating respectively. He romanticises South Americans somewhat (though not necessarily their society), while demonising whites, especially rich or wealthy white people. At one point, he sneeringly refers to "inbreeding" in a rich white family [p. 131], something I find quite ironic from somebody who claims to oppose racism. Grisham is a white American himself, so this is just self-hatred, but then he is a product of his time and circumstances. However, Grisham's PC obsessions do, here, raise a more substantive question to ponder: whether the sort of life apparently promised in Third World countries such as Brazil is more attractive and would be better for us as people than the materialistic life offered in Western countries. The author depicts Brazil as a society in which everything moves more slowly and in which even commerce is conducted at a sedate pace. This is Brazilian time and more 'Brazilian hours' are needed for any complicated task than would be required in the West. During Nate's adventure in the Pantanal, a vast swamp region, time in the sense that we recognise it in the West stops completely, no watches are worn, and the cares of 'civilisation', including the probate case that brought him there, seem remote and other-worldly. Whether this is an accurate depiction of the real Brazil (this was in any case written in 1999) or a romanticisation on Grisham's part is another matter, but the experience certainly does Nate some good. The law is an alienating profession - something Grisham always conscientiously attempts to convey to readers - and Nate's 'back to Nature' experience seems to transform him spiritually. The native Brazilians in the story also seem to like their surroundings on the Pantanal, but at the same time one of the Brazilian characters seem keen to move to the United States. This aspiration is perhaps based on a naive or incomplete understanding of what American society is like.
Grisham's research in The Testament is excellent, probably the best of all his work. One of the things I admire about Grisham is that he manages to integrate some pretty thorough and detailed research into his stories without it wearing heavy. This shows considerable skill. We learn a great a deal about Brazil in this book, especially the Pantanal region, its wildlife and their native Indian tribes, but Grisham imparts these interesting details in just the right way through the dialogue of his characters and the circumstances in which he situates them, and without being overbearing about it. He doesn't burden his readers with information dumps in the way that lots of other popular authors do (Frederick Forsyth being a good example of this irritating tendency). Anybody who wants to become a better writer could do worse than to carefully study The Testament and some of Grisham's other novels with this point in mind.
However, I think The Testament is pretty average overall. The problem goes back to Grisham's inherent conservatism as a writer, a literary attribute exemplified in this novel. The plot is not imaginatively developed and lacks that indefinable 'spark' that separates the average from the good. There are no twists or surprises here. Grisham could have taken the concept of a last will and testament into some interesting territory, there are enough precedents in literature, and the use of an absent beneficiary set the scene for what could have been a very exciting story. Instead, he has produced a work that is staid and peters out predictably. Unfortunately, most of Grisham's work has this flaw, and in my opinion, he has only written a handful of really good novels - The Firm and The King of Torts being among them. Then again, he is a multi-millionaire novelist with an eye for two particular markets: the casual, low intellect airport/dentist's waiting room readership and Hollywood film producers. That's how he has become successful. It's business. Can we blame him? If he had set out to become a more interesting writer, he might not be as successful as he is today, and he wouldn't be rich.
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