Moreover, according to Janet Maslin, who reviewed the work for the NY TIMES, "'The Appeal' is John Grisham's handy primer on a timely subject: how to rig an election. Blow by blow, this not-very-fictitious-sounding novel depicts the tactics by which political candidates either can be propelled or ambushed and their campaigns can be subverted. Since so much of what happens here involves legal maneuvering in Mississippi, as have many of his other books, Mr. Grisham knows just how these games are played. He has sadly little trouble making such dirty tricks sound real."
In short, this, THE APPEAL, is a sort of modern America fiction which everyone can almost read as non-fiction. Thank you, corporate think-tanks, lobbyists, government, and courtrooms of America!
Likewise, in his book on corporate espionage, THE ASSOCIATE, Grisham shows us an economy and business world that is just plain out of sync with what America needs in this decade.
http://www.jgrisham.com/the-associate/
Interestingly, besides being about espionage and white collar crime or corporate spy operations dealing with America's defense contracts, the novel, THE ASSOCIATE, has a lot to say about law firms and corporate clients, e.g. what they consider is normal. (What corporate America considers normal, most of us would consider a crime.)
One reviewer explains, "Grisham's cynicism about Wall Street law firms has become even more extreme than it was 18 years ago. Partners at his fictitious Scully & Pershing think nothing of asking associates to "estimate' the hours the partner might have spent working on a client's affairs over the previous month. "It's no big deal,' the partner maintains. "At $800 an hour," Grisham editorializes, "it was indeed a big deal.'"
In short, as the reviewer for THE GUARDIAN, Joshua Rozenberg notes, Grisham is not afraid of editorializing about the status-quo in the USA. Rozenberg goes on to ask, "How much of this was going on, even a couple of years ago? [i.e. prior to the booms of the late-1990s and mid-2000s?] The law firms stoutly deny it, but Grisham's great rival Scott Turow, who still practices as a lawyer, has attacked the hourly billing system in an essay published by the American Bar Association journal. "Who among us,' he asked, "can say he has never accused the lawyer on the other side of "running the meter' of doing unnecessary discovery, filing frivolous motions or foot-dragging before engaging in meaningful settlement talks all to pad the fee?'"
However, Grisham does not just attack the status-quo for big law firms in America in terms of billings, he attacks the budgeting department at humongous corporations and how they think about using, counting or allocating their budgets. In THE ASSOCIATE, Grisham goes after one of North America's biggest and powerful (fictional?) banks: Ontario Bank.
Prior to this dialogue, the main character, named Kyle, has just passed his bar exam for the State of New York and is meeting with his supervisor, named Doug, at lunch. There, the news secrets on client-billing (and how clients, like major banks, think) are shared with the neophyte lawyer, Kyle. The conversation goes like this:
Doug says: And since we are now talking about Ontario Bank"bill "em for this lunch."[i.e. at 800 dollars an hour for him and 400 dollars an hour for Kyle]
Kyle replies: "I was planning on getting the check."
Doug responds: "Of course not. I'll put it on a credit card and bill the bank. I'm talking about our time. Two hours for you, now at four hundred
and two for me. The bank had record earnings last year."
Next, Doug notes: "[Y]ou are entitled to use the black cars and bill clients for dinner. The rule goes like this: If you work until eight o'clock at night, then call a car. I'll give you the number and code, and be sure the client gets billed for the car. And if you choose, you can go to a restaurant, spend no more than a hundred bucks on yourself, and also bill the client."
Kyle, who lives in walking distance from the office, replies: "You gotta be kidding".[b]ecause if somebody else is buying dinner, then I'll be damned sure I stay until eight."
Doug nods: "Attaboy."
