The jacket flap of The Associate reads, “If you thought Mitch McDeere was in trouble in The Firm, wait until you meet Kyle McAvoy, The Associate.” For those of you not in the field of publishing, that’s industry talk for, “The plot of John Grisham’s new book is very similar to that of The Firm, so don’t say we didn’t warn you.”
McAvoy was chosen as editor-in-chief of the Yale Law Journal, so you’d think that when a group of men in dark suits show up claiming to be FBI agents and wanting to question McAvoy about an alleged rape that happened a few years earlier, he’d ask for a lawyer. But McAvoy signs away his Miranda rights and opens his big mouth.
Luckily for him—though not for the plot of The Associate—McAvoy isn’t one of the alleged rapists caught on the cell-phone video. Still, the men in suits use the video to blackmail McAvoy into taking a job at Scully & Pershing, “the largest law firm in the world.” The men want McAvoy to be a spy and feed them classified information regarding an upcoming contract dispute involving two weapons manufacturers. So McAvoy packs his bags and heads to New York City.
The Details
If you’ve gone to law school, practiced law, read Jeremy Blachman’s Anonymous Lawyer or own a television, you’ve already heard all that Grisham has to say about Big Firm life in New York City: “The rookie associates were stuffed in tight windowless spaces; three or four of them wedged together in cramped cubicles, nicknamed ‘cubes.’ These ‘offices’ were tucked away and kept out of sight. Lousy accommodation, brutal hours, sadistic bosses, unbearable pressure—it was all part of the blue-chip law firm experience.”
Grisham doesn’t have anything original to say about law school either: “Around 80 percent of all freshman claim that they are attracted to the law by a desire to help others. At some point, though, usually about halfway through the second year, things begin to change. The big firms arrive on campus to interview and begin their selection process. They offer summer internships, with nice salaries and the prospect of 10 weeks of fun and games.”
Even the non-legal aspects of The Associate are clichéd: the college students listen to Phish, eat pizza and drink beer; the British spy is named “Nigel”; McAvoy’s dad has a “Scottish temper.”
At one point in the book, there’s a scene in which one character “stared at his window and tried to absorb it all. A 25-year-old former editor-in-chief of the Yale Law Journal being stalked on the streets of New York City by a deadly group of professional operatives who are blackmailing him into spying on his own law firm.” Well, at least Grisham’s character seems to think the book’s plot is original.
Of course, you’re not supposed to read Grisham for originality; you’re supposed to read Grisham for the ride. And even at their most clichéd, Grisham’s books are still far more readable than most. I got through The Associate’s 373 pages in two days. I didn’t even notice myself reading them.
I did notice the end, though—or rather, the lack thereof. Who are the men blackmailing McAvoy? Spoiler alert: “We’ll never know, will we?”
If you’re taking a Vegas staycation and looking for something to read by the pool, go for Grisham’s King of Torts.
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