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I THREW AWAY THE TWO GRISHAM NOVELS I OWNED

John Grisham’s a glib man and crafty writer, but I threw away the two hardbound editions written by Grisham that I had on my shelf. Somewhere in a giant landfill lie the decomposing tomes.

This isn’t why:

From a recent news article, John Grisham lives la dolca vita:

Grisham isn’t sure who will pick up his latest offering. He has veered off the thriller track before, with his fictionalized childhood memoir “A Painted House” in 2001, “Bleachers” about small town high school football in 2003, and the comedy “Skipping Christmas” in 2001. While all were best sellers, they weren’t as popular as the others.

“There’s a core out there who really want the legal thrillers. And there’s a core out there that will probably, at this point, buy pretty much whatever I write,” he says. “I don’t know where those numbers come down. We’ll know a year from now.”

Stephen Rubin, Grisham’s longtime publisher and the man to whom the latest book is dedicated, says he continues to be impressed by the author’s reluctance to take the easy road and repeat himself.

“We believe his core audience will come to this, but we are also making a strong effort to reach sports fans, who I think would love this novel, as well as the armchair travel audience, who I think would enjoy John’s affectionate writing about Italy,” says Rubin, president and publisher of Doubleday Broadway Publishing Group.

This is why:

Best-selling author John Grisham, taking his first major public step in presidential politics by planning to host an event Sunday near his home in Charlottesville, Va., for New York Sen. Hillary Clinton, said the current administration is built around “bad people with evil intent” and contends President Bush played politics as thousands died in Iraq…

“The war is an immoral abomination that we’ll pay for for decades to come,” Grisham said…

“I can’t stand those people – and their incompetence is astounding,” Grisham said.

He either writes his books because he’s clever, or, he has a monster living inside his head who speaks through his mouth. Either way, my estimation of author John Grisham plummeted and remains there as I write this. It was a light experience to toss his books but I’m sorry for Italy that they’ve had to contend with his nastiness, in his books or out of his dreadful, monstrous mouth, his voce grotesque.

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