Book Review: The Boys from Biloxi (John Grisham, 2022)
Not the standard Grisham thriller. But it's well worth delving into if you want to explore the nexus between law and organized crime (and don't mind a slow pace).
In The Boys From Biloxi, Grisham takes an intriguing departure from his familiar legal thrillers, immersing readers in the labyrinthine underpinnings of the legal realm and the intricate dance between law and organized crime. Embracing a deliberative narrative style, Grisham may challenge the expectations of some readers accustomed to his earlier pacy tales. Yet, for those captivated by the intricacies of the legal, criminal, and societal landscapes, this novel offers a rewarding journey worth embarking upon.
The novel takes us on a journey through the parallel lives of Keith Rudy and Hugh Malco, two childhood friends whose paths dramatically diverge. Against the backdrop of Biloxi, Mississippi, the stage is set with a rich tapestry of history. This tale isn't just about the characters; it's a love letter to the city of Biloxi itself. A place that evolved from the dreams of industrious Eastern European immigrants striving for a better life to the darker allure of unchecked vice.
Our story kicks off in the summer of 1960, where two inseparable pre-teens, Keith and Hugh, reign supreme on the Little League baseball diamond, harboring dreams of making it big in the world of sports. Yet, even in those youthful days, a conflict looms on the horizon, one that is rooted in the preceding generation.
Fifteen years ago, the boys’ fathers, Jesse Rudy and Lance Malco, fresh from their experiences in World War II, returned to Biloxi with aspirations of their own. Jesse's pursuit of higher education and his dreams of becoming a professor eventually led him to the practice of law.
On the other hand, Lance chooses a different route, inheriting his father's business. But he is attracted by the world of vices and sin. The untimely death of his father grants him the freedom to venture into more nefarious territory. He starts running nightclubs and brothels, which cater to the sinful desires of their patrons. All the while , Lance enjoys the tacit approval of local law enforcement.
A seismic disruption shakes the core of normalcy when Hurricane Camille unleashes its fury upon the Coast in August of '69. It lays waste to thousands of homes. Out of this destruction, a remarkable opportunity arises for Jesse. With unwavering resolve, he takes on the giants of the insurance industry, ensuring they pay for their evasion of responsibility in the face of such devastation. His triumph elevates him to new heights, propelling him into the race for District Attorney. After getting elected, Jesse wages an unyielding battle against the criminal club owners, determined to reclaim the city he holds dear.
All this while, Keith has become an attorney, aligning with his father’s mission to combat vice, while Hugh has embraced his father’s mafia lifestyle.
With Jesse's untimely demise, Keith inherits the role of District Attorney. And so, the age-old struggle between the forces of law and the web of organized crime endures. Passing the torch from one generation to the next. As the tale unfolds, we are drawn into the journey of Keith, left to grapple with a monumental inheritance — the crusade his father initiated. Can Keith surmount the obstacles that thwarted his father's efforts? What must he alter in his approach to succeed where his father faltered?
On the whole, the narrative unfurls at a markedly different cadence compared to Grisham's earlier exploits. The trigger for all that unfolds is the hurricane. But the narrative struggles to transcend its function as a basic chronicling of the storm's aftermath.
While peppered with colorful characters, it leans heavily towards the realm of reporting. It's clear that the author strives to show much, yet the reader finds themselves navigating a fog of uncertainty, pondering what Grisham truly wishes to impart and what should be deduced.
As Keith embarks on his crusade, the narrative inevitably steers towards the courtroom—a terrain familiar to Grisham's oeuvre. In these realms, the author's meticulous focus on the minutiae of criminal investigations does offer pockets of intrigue. Nevertheless, the tension, that electric undercurrent synonymous with Grisham's earlier works, remains somewhat elusive. Thus, The Boys from Biloxi emerges as an often intriguing yarn, yet it never quite scales the peaks of engagement and thrill.
A multitude of characters take their turn in the spotlight, and yet Grisham deftly weaves a story that feels fundamentally centered around men. This emphasis, to a certain degree, is not surprising. After all, the male characters are critical in propelling the plot. The world of the mafia, a focal point in this tale, is inherently male-dominated, as was the legal landscape in those times.
Nonetheless, there are women present in the story. It's just that they are under a veil of anonymity. Their real names often elude us, lost in the shadows, while their identities are defined solely by their hooker names. Their histories, the paths that led them to their current circumstances, and the ordeals they endure are all missing.
Likewise, in this male-centric world, Keith's and Hugh's mothers occupy a marginalized role, with scant influence over the destiny of their children.
At its core, the novel isn't seeking to elicit a thrill. Instead, it beckons us to explore the interplay between law and organized crime. Grisham argues that this intricate relationship isn't an isolated phenomenon. It is a product of our society and, in turn, molds it. The questions raised are weighty: What nurtures the growth of organized crime within some cities and towns? Does the ostensibly law-abiding society bear some complicity, a measure of responsibility for its existence?
Similarly, the narrative compels us to contemplate the complex narratives of immigration. Can we extend our trust to those immigrants who've fought for America in our wars? What transpires when they return, morphing into the architects of criminal enterprises? What prompts these choices? Are they innately predisposed towards a life of crime, or is it the absence of a support system, a dearth of mentors to steer those teetering on the edge, that lures them into vice?
Crime and immigration are two of the most divisive and contentious issues in the American political landscape. In this context, Grisham's novel, while rooted in a different era, emanates a sense of prescience, invoking reflection on the enduring relevance of these complex societal dilemmas.
In recent years, Grisham's work has witnessed an evolution: a shift from blistering courtroom battles to a more holistic examination of the legal ecosystem and its intricate machinations.
Considering this deviation from the usual Grisham fare, I recommend The Boys From Biloxi to those who harbor an ardent fascination with the inner workings of the legal world and an appetite for a more deliberate storytelling style.
For those whose literary appetite leans towards the heart-pounding, pulse-quickening legal thrillers characterized by dramatic twists and high-stakes courtroom drama, a visit to Grisham's earlier works may be the more suitable choice.
The review was also posted on Goodreads.