My guilty pleasure is reading John Grisham novels on vacation. Don’t judge me.
This was one of his weakest ones so far. The story tells of a young attorney (don’t they all?) who finds three million dollars cash in his recently deceased father’s office. He spends three hundred pages trying to figure out where it came from. When the big reveal happens, there is little fanfare.
Grisham has the usual cavalcade of stock characters, unrealistic dialogue, and semi-predictable plotlines, but who cares? It makes for great reading at the beach. If ever you hear that I’m teaching Grisham in my classes at school, please hold an intervention for me.