Defending Jacob

Defending Jacob
author: William Landay
name: Paul
average rating: 3.97
book published: 2012
rating: 4
read at: 2012/06/30
date added: 2012/07/02
shelves: mystery, new-in-2012, novel
review:
William Landay‘s searing, crafted novel, Defending Jacob, is by far the most unexpected book I’ve read in a while. It struck me as particularly interesting that while I don’t read a ton of legal thrillers (and I’m not sure this counts as one), those that I have read don’t really seem to cross with mysteries very often. In Defending Jacob, there is a distinct mystery at the core of the book, though it is framed in the context of the trial proceedings and not principally within the initial investigation.

The book follows Andy Barber, Massachusetts ADA, who is called when the body of a young boy is found murdered in a woodsy park in his own Boston suburb of Newton. Initially there are no suspects, but as the investigation proceeds, two possible perpetrators emerge. One is a convicted sex offender and the other is Andy’s own son, Jacob. The District Attorney’s office makes the decision to pursue Jacob as their suspect, pulling Andy off the case and setting off a sequence in which the largely circumstantial but nevertheless compelling evidence mounts against Jacob.

The central thrust of the plot is the twin spires of the case. One is the draining effect it has on the Barber family, with the secrets it unearths, the questions it raises and the way it re-casts the entire family in the eyes of the community. The other is the mystery of the case itself, the particulars and the “what if” elements: what if the jury convicts? What if the actions of the parents are called into question? And mostly, what if Jacob actually committed the crime, regardless of what the jury decides?

Landay uses a narrative structure that has the majority of the case being recalled by Andy some time after the initial trial and investigation as part of a grand jury hearing in which the weight of suggestion is heavy that there are events that take place outside or after the initial trial that are as, if not more, significant than the trial and its outcome. In these sequences, mostly told via court transcripts of contentious examination by Andy’s understudy at the DA’s office, the cloud of these events are palpable but believably obscured (for the most part).

What unfolds then is a series of examinations between crucial trial moments where the nature of family, fatherhood, belief in the inherent goodness not just of children but of your own actions are dissected, drawn out, examined, and re-defined. A central theme is the concept of nature versus nurture, of psychology and the revelations of genetics, as well as the definitions of self. There is a secret about Andy that affects (or perhaps does not affect) Jacob which casts a particular glow across the whole proceeding, paving the way for Landay (through Andy) to muse on the topic of which comes first: the murder or the murderer.

As the book artfully sets the stage with a languid sense of the reader not having the whole story but the tale being told compellingly, eventually the trial begins and the tension begins to mount. Landay paces himself so that what seems at first to be a meandering, thoughtful study of a family in crisis begins to ratchet up, the crescendo suddenly maximizing until the final 100 pages or so become so engrossing that a book I felt confident in my ability to take my time with out of nowhere became a page-turner so engrossing I had to stay up ridiculously late just to finish.

And oh, the finish.

But I’ll come back to the finale in a moment. First let me pause to discuss the few flaws the book has. Primarily, I found it frustrating that the question of genetic predisposition toward violence is never satisfactorily pursued. Particularly, Andy, as the narrator, seems to occasionally hint toward a confession about his own, personal, sense of morality or his possible predilection to violence. A few times he seems to act as if he believes that he does have a draw to anger and/or unthinking action, which could easily include violence. But the exploration of this topic feels incomplete, even in a novel that is unafraid—admirably so—to leave questions unresolved. The other small but nagging annoyance is that Landay (or Andy, though I don’t think you can write this off as a character element) repeats and rehashes certain topics to drive home their significance rather than expanding the discussions. This is particularly noteworthy when the topic of those genetic or nature-based propensities to do harm to other comes up, but also he revisits the concept of the “unknowable other” several times without really diving into what that means or what that says about the characters and events that take place. It’s a missed opportunity because it could really enhance the narrative, but Landay leaves it on the mantle, unfired. There are a few other minor examples as well.

A large concern is that the central framework is a fabrication. Obviously the narrator and the ADA cross-examining him in the transcript interludes know more than the audience is privy to up until the closing chapters. In almost any other hands I’d probably cry foul and declare it a cheat, but I think Landay does as good a job as I’ve seen in making this work, in not having it feel terribly artificial, at least during the initial read. I admit that after the fact it was so glaring that it buffs some of the luster off the polish of the book, but I can’t say that I protested during the subterfuge. It’s a weird pseudo-flaw then: a contrivance that works until you become part of the informed, at which point it reveals itself as a cheat, though one that is forgivable if you can admit how exhilarating it was to be blissfully unaware.

My veiled hints refer to the book’s final pages—literally the last twenty—which flip the central tenets of the story to that point once and then just as you are in the midst of the mindwarp provided there, the whole novel is re-cast as the brutal, unflinching and pointedly unresolved final sequence unfolds. I can see how some people are going to read this and want to fling the book across the room. I checked mine out from the library so that wouldn’t have been an option for me. But it was never a danger anyway because I was among those who wanted to immediately find Mr. Landay and shake his hands for having the stones to drop such a pitch-perfect ending onto an already gripping book. It’s messed up, yes. It’s hard to deal with, sure. But it’s so effective, I just can’t imagine it ending any other way.

In the end, I highly recommend Defending Jacob to people who like thoughtful family dramas, people who like thoughtful crime or legal dramas and people who can say they don’t mind being duped as long as it’s for a worthy cause. I liked the book very much and I can’t wait to find some other people who’ve read it so I can discuss it with them, because the real power of the novel, I suspect, will be in the ensuing conversation.

from Paul's bookshelf: readJuly 02, 2012 at 02:09AM