Presumed Innocent

⚖The case for it

Ask whether the ending cheats once you finish, not before, because the answer needs the whole trial behind it. Turow tried real cases before he wrote this, and that shows in the small mechanics: bargains struck in hallways, an exhibit gone missing from evidence, testimony pushed right to the edge of the rules. My one complaint is the stretch of pretrial procedure, which moves at the speed of paperwork. The premise still pulls hard. A senior prosecutor draws the killing of the colleague he wanted, every lead bends back toward him, and he narrates sickened by what he keeps turning up.

— the honest librarian

✕The case against

Rusty narrates in first person while withholding what a first-person narrator would know, and whether that twist plays fair is a real question. Carolyn exists only as the men's obsession, an ambitious corpse. Turow's prose turns violet whenever sex or guilt enters the room. Between the courtroom set pieces, the pace belongs to depositions.

— the honest librarian