The Last Juror by John Grisham
The Last Juror by John Grisham is awful. Seriously, can I get those hours of my life back? The master of the legal mystery delivers a weak attempt at high-minded Southern literature and ignores all elements of a good suspense novel.
I understand that, after cranking out a number of paint-by-numbers, cookie-cutter like novels, Grisham might want to try his hand at something different. I get that. But don’t tell me it’s going to be one thing and then deliver another. Here’s the final line from the back jacket of The Last Juror:
Because as the ghosts of the South’s past gather around Willie, as tension swirls around Clanton, men and women who served on a jury nine years ago are starting to die one by one - as a killer exacts the ultimate revenge …
Sounds exciting doesn’t it? And if that’s really what The Last Juror was about then it could have been a nice, quick read in between more powerful material. I usually rely on a so-bad-it’s-good Stuart Woods novel, but the Stone Barrington series has gotten so bad it’s … well … bad.
Unfortunately, The Last Juror is boring and has little or no intrigue. I kept reading, thinking to myself, it has to get interesting at some point, doesn’t it? Instead the reader is treated to Grisham’s portrait of the South, of small town America dealing with racism and corruption, coupled with a worn out coming of age story. The vengeful killer is an afterthought and, worse, there is no satisfying payoff at the end of the story.
Make no mistake, Grisham is gifted at telling a certain type of story, one that is strong on plot and revolves around the law. However, he fails when the novel is driven by character development and hinges on description and style.
I recommend you avoid The Last Juror by John Grisham and read your voter’s guide pamphlet instead.
