Turow says he has an obsession about the sixties, which he sees as the decade that has most influenced our modern consciousness. Here at Law in the Lounge we’re a bit young to remember it all, but clearly Turow, though critical at times, doesn’t want to do too much harm to the rose-coloured view of that tumultuous decade. He has not come to bury the sixties but to praise them, and if that’s his conviction, fair enough. The plot revolves around that American criminal peculiarity, the drive-by murder, this time of a white woman in her 60s, in 1995. She’s our connection to the sixties, the former wife of a once left winger now installed in the State Senate, the refuge of all good scoundrels from that decade. The characters’ pasts are intertwined – a journalist who was a lover of the judge; a baby-sitter of the defendant; a mate of the defence lawyer, and more. Enter Judge "Sonny" Klonsky, a holdover from Turow’s second novel "The Burden of Proof" (she wasn’t a judge then). And so we come to the beginning of improbable coincidence, and a question that will trouble you – why does a judge sit on a case in which she (as you will find out) has a conflict of interest? It’s interesting to see a writer take on characters not from his own race – and this is rarely done without controversy. William Styron, a Southern author, has depicted African-American characters, and survivors of the Holocaust. Now Scott Turow too has looked at the plight of African Americans, from their point of view. This is a brave move, and since Turow has shown himself to be an intelligent writer, should be applauded. We can’t tell you if his description of the life on the streets is accurate – but it sounds realistic enough, and there is no hint of pretension. It’s also good to see a novel about the sixties that is not steeped in hippies, beads and a marijuana haze. As always in legal thrillers, it's a pleasure to get inside the head of a judge. It reminds us that there is no one to judge the judges, and it’s all too easy to misconstrue the metaphor for the reality – take away the robes and the bird’s eye view from the Bench, and what do you have? Just another ordinary person struggling with the dilemmas of the law. It’s a bit on the "talky" side – in other words, the characters chatter on beyond what we at Law in the Lounge found entertaining. And maybe, just maybe Scott, you’re asking us to suspend our disbelief beyond the balance of probabilities with this plot. This reunion of cronies from the sixties, brought together by a contemporary crime, is just too convenient to believe. More than one of our readers at Law in the Lounge thought the coincidences were too many and clearly contrived. One last thing – there’s too much about the sixties! Yes, a great time was had by all, but enough is enough! In "The Laws Of Our Fathers", Judge "Sonny" Klonsky not only knows the defendant – she also has more than a nodding acquaintance with the victim as well! And wait for it, she shares a past with the defence lawyer and the journalist who’s covering the trial (she shared a lot more than conversation with him!). What’s the responsibility of a judge if they know of one of the parties? Is this a conflict of interest? And why does it matter – shouldn’t judges just hear the evidence and make up their minds, forgetting about anything else they might know? In America, you would have to ask why Judge Klonsky doesn’t "recuse" herself, that is, stand down because she has a conflict of interest. This means she has a conflict between her private interests and her obligation to the public. In Australia, a lawyer who puts themself in a position of conflict will be guilty of professional misconduct. So, what do we expect from judges? Firstly, a judge has to be seen to carry out their job in an equitable way - this means the judge should uphold the highest standards of professional conduct, and make it clear that they have nothing to gain from any particular verdict. Public confidence in the judiciary is essential, and you can be sure that a lot of lawyers would not be too happy if they understood that Judge "Sonny" knows intimate details of the participants, as she clearly does. In this regard, she should especially not allow any social or other relationship to influence her judgement – or be in a position where it might be seen to be influenced. In fact, her judicial duties take precedence over any other activities. However, this doesn’t mean that judges should not have any friends amongst people who might be likely to find themselves in their court – that’s taking ethics too far. Judges have an obligation to advance the cause of the law, so it is only reasonable that they will come into contact with other lawyers at conferences, social events etc. So a Judge can give talks, write articles, teach in a law course, participate in charitable occasions etc. But there are things a Judge shouldn’t do, for instance, accept a government appointment that does not deal with the law and law reform, because that would be likely to bring them into a conflict. In Judge Klonsky’s example, she should have stepped aside and left the trial for another Judge, especially because it is such a high profile case and she knows far too much about its background. Scott Turow started his first published novel, "Presumed Innocent", on the commuter train, jotting in a notebook, to and from his job as a prosecutor in Chicago (although he now swears by the wonders of a computer and a decent word processing program). This is not surprising, given his previous career as a writing instructor at Stanford University. And he wrote his first book ten years before the publication of "Presumed Innocent" – only it wasn’t a novel, but the story of his experiences as a law student at Harvard Law School, called "One L". Turow was an Assistant United States Attorney before he went into private practice at a Chicago law firm. It wasn’t long before the publishing firm of Straus & Giroux bought the manuscript for "Presumed Innocent" for $200,000, not bad for a first novel. And that’s just the hardcover rights – the paperback sales would have boosted that well past the million mark, not to speak of the movie rights that went for a million on their own. Turow claims that he did not set out to write a blockbuster best-seller, but he’s not complaining! To be fair to Turow, "Presumed Innocent" was not his first crack at a novel – that effort was turned down by 25 publishers, and the experience left him devastated. So what did he do? Easy – he got himself accepted into the world’s most prestigious law school and became a top-notch lawyer – for all us mere mortals, this is clearly a star turn. Turow is what is known in the trade as a "litigator" – a lawyer who plans and executes a court room battle, inventing strategies like a Commander in the War Room. He describes himself as a classic workaholic, which might explain how he is able to write complex novels whilst working full time in a demanding job. Clearly there is cross-pollination - he admits to the benefits of legal training to the budding writer, and the parallels between the stories that are told to readers and juries alike. This is Scott Turow’s fourth novel – he is blessed or cursed by the overwhelming reception to his first published novel, "Presumed Innocent". He will forever be compared to that celebrated first effort – so how does "The Laws Of Our Fathers" shape up? Our guess is that readers of this top-notch author will be a little disappointed, though that might be harsh. Turow has well captured the feelings of hopelessness of the characters, at home in their past and lost in their present. At times it’s hard not to think of the Lawrence Kasdan movie "The Big Chill", with its reunion of sixties comrades missing in action in the age of materialism. This novel, Turow’s latest, takes him further down the path away from the "legal thriller" and towards inward looking characters at war with themselves and their pasts. True, there is still plenty of court room drama here, but in the end the verdict seems less important than the effect of the trial on the main characters. And this is where the novel’s strength lies – rich, complex characters that to the readers here at Law in the Lounge are superior than those in his earlier novels, even if the story doesn’t barrel along at quite the same pace we’ve come to expect from Turow. This is Turow’s Big Important Book – some of you might wish it was less so. Want us to tell you when we review another book ? Read this: The legal information contained above is intended to be general information about the law. It is not a substitute for legal and other professional advice. Lawscape Communications P/L does not accept responsibility for loss to any person, who either acts or does not act because of this information. |