Books like A Time for Mercy

Many an idealistic young law student like me felt that jolt in our spine early on when we saw up in the balcony of that courthouse a sleepy Scout being told, “Stand up, Jean Louise. Your father’s passin’.”

The movie is as faithful to the novel as the medium would allow. The novel is told entirely from Scout’s POV and not only focuses upon the racism of the time and place, but also upon her coming of age as a tomboy and being told to act “As a little girl should.”

The book offers more to those of us for whom the rule of law and not of men is a passion, especially in Finch’s closing: “There is one human institution that makes a pauper the equal of Rockefeller, a stupid man the equal of Einstein… That institution, gentlemen, is a court.” 

I adore this book.

Not only is it loaded with suspenseful moments, but the heartache, Pi’s incredible journey, and the masterful metaphor make it one of those books that will always be near the top of my reading pile. Even the side story of why Pi changed his name is written with humor and heart.

I am a fan of survival stories, and I’m also an animal lover, so the combination of animals playing such a huge role, coupled with Pi struggling to survive when the odds are against him, makes this a great read.

The Quiet Game introduces a troubled Penn Cage, who returns with his daughter to his hometown of Natchez, Mississippi when his father lands in trouble. For Penn, family is sacrosanct. Iles uses Natchez brilliantly to support characterization, atmosphere, and plot. Events unfold quickly in a series of twists and turns that thrill the reader and severely test Penn as he struggles to unearth his father’s connection to a horrific Natchez mystery that the town is determined to keep buried. I admire how Penn battles relentlessly on behalf of his father, doggedly pursues a truth that frightens him, and protects his daughter in the face of growing condemnation and danger. He hews to his moral compass even when it would be expedient to abandon it.

In Last Girl Ghosted, a friend of skeptical twenty-eight-year-old Wren pushes her to take a break from work and live a little. Wren finally caves to the pressure and is pleasantly surprised to find herself in a satisfying relationship—until having peeked into a dark corner of the online world leads to chilling consequences. Unger has created a witty, engaging protagonist in Wren, so we suffer and share her fear as Unger plunges her into a wild series of twists and turns that lead to a satisfying conclusion. Every time I begin a Lisa Unger novel, I look forward to spending time with characters I will care deeply about and hate to say goodbye to at the end of the story. Who could ask for more?

This book by John Grisham asks how moral people live in an unjust society. They either come to terms with the wickedness of a broken world or end their lives.

The opening page of the Grisham novel reveals a man who can’t cope with his sins, those of his ancestors, and society. I submit the reader wants a more courageous protagonist capable of coping with the chaos. The entire purpose of crime fiction is to re-establish the order shattered by evil. 

We all make choices we later have to live with. Back from war and trained as an Army ranger, Quinn Colson is the sheriff now in Tibbehah, Mississippi, and finds himself hunting an old high school friend turned arms dealer. When you open this book, it’s already flowing, a feel of which I love. It’s as if you’re not watching; you’re already in the boat and can hear the roar of the coming rapids. Colson is in motion. He’s on the hunt. Here’s the way the novel starts,                      

“A couple of roustabouts had been asking about guns at the Tibbehah County fair, but by the time the word had gotten back to Donnie Varner, they’d long since packed up their Ferris wheel, corn dog stands and shit, and boogied down the highway.”

When I was twelve, my father said to me, “Stick and stones might break your bones, but words will never hurt you. You are going to a white school.” It was with those words that I became a part of a complicated integration plan called “Freedom of Choice.” Connie Curry, one of the first white members of SNCC, the student-run civil rights activist group, writes beautifully of the Carter family as they integrate the schools of Sunflower County, Mississippi. The book emphasizes that access to education was a cornerstone of the Civil Rights Movement. The Carter children learned, as I did, that words can both hurt and heal.

This is my book's protagonist's favorite book.

The Bundren family sets out across Mississippi to honor their dying matriarch's wish to be buried in her hometown, and nearly everything that can go wrong does. The ending is uneasy rather than truly resolved, and the landscape itself is a main character: it floods and burns and resists the Bundrens throughout.

Faulkner understood something crucial about the South, and Southerners by extension: it will not cooperate, and the people who love it regardless are complicated and oftentimes their own worst enemies.

I have been pressing this book into people’s hands since I studied it under the direction of Faulkner scholar Charles Chappell, and I aimed for my own book to sit in the same uneasy space.

It took me two tries to finish this tremendously difficult novel about a father who desperately wants a son, and gets two. Considered by many to be Faulkner’s most challenging work, it defeated me on my first attempt. But I was captivated by this example of fatherhood gone obsessively wrong, so returned to it and soldiered through.

It was worth the effort. I hope I never find any commonality with the main character of this novel, and I’m not sure if I should take solace from Faulkner’s conclusion that we can never really understand another person, and may not want to. I read it as a cautionary tale of what a family can become.

This book blew my mind.

I had no idea there were so many, and such vast, ancient structures throughout mid-America. It showed me how very little I knew about America, and how very wrong the standard American pre-Columbian narrative was.

What's truly sad is that the vast majority of these ancient monuments have been deliberately destroyed. They were an inconvenient truth: that this was not a virgin continent ripe for exploitation but a thoroughly settled land inhabited for thousands of years. We were lied to!