A “civil” action
I finished reading A Civil Action, five hundred pages about why not to practice the law. A cover blurb says: “The legal thriller of the decade” (i.e., the 1990s). Indeed. No other task could be more herculean, more quixotic, than that to which these litigators set themselves.
These litigators obviously are the good guys. The two industries that they’re suing clearly are guilty of polluting some groundwater and causing the plaintiffs’ family members to die of cancer. But, righteous though the cause may be, the litigators are suing these two industries because the owners have deep, deep pockets. (You could say that the good guys are a little greedy.)
And so ensues a war of attrition. The defendants, with their unending resources, drag out the proceedings, expecting the plaintiffs’ lawyers to run out of money. The litigators plunge further and further into debt. The book opens with a flash-forward scene in which one litigator’s Porsche is repossessed. You could say that the main question of the book is: will this guy win enough money to recover his Porsche? Suspense is generated by such problems as: will he be able to pay the dry cleaners so that he can wear a suit to court?
All of which makes it seem terribly stressful to be a lawyer. And undignified. Everybody is always getting scolded by the judge – who, in some passages, himself seems barely competent. (You wonder: what is this crazy system?)
Worst of all, for the righteous litigators at least, there’s a constant crisis of the self. These smart people are pushed so hard that they end up trusting in some very dumb things, like lotto tickets and “shyster” credit cards. And horoscopes: “Whether your problems be of a personal or career nature, you must refuse point blank to settle for less than you know to be just and honorable” (emphasis on “settle”). And the judge. And even the defense lawyers. There’s a code of behavior in lawyering that encourages the litigators to trust their opponents. You can imagine how, in some circumstances, this would be a bad idea. The book’s title can be read as an ironic pun.
These litigators obviously are the good guys. The two industries that they’re suing clearly are guilty of polluting some groundwater and causing the plaintiffs’ family members to die of cancer. But, righteous though the cause may be, the litigators are suing these two industries because the owners have deep, deep pockets. (You could say that the good guys are a little greedy.)
And so ensues a war of attrition. The defendants, with their unending resources, drag out the proceedings, expecting the plaintiffs’ lawyers to run out of money. The litigators plunge further and further into debt. The book opens with a flash-forward scene in which one litigator’s Porsche is repossessed. You could say that the main question of the book is: will this guy win enough money to recover his Porsche? Suspense is generated by such problems as: will he be able to pay the dry cleaners so that he can wear a suit to court?
All of which makes it seem terribly stressful to be a lawyer. And undignified. Everybody is always getting scolded by the judge – who, in some passages, himself seems barely competent. (You wonder: what is this crazy system?)
Worst of all, for the righteous litigators at least, there’s a constant crisis of the self. These smart people are pushed so hard that they end up trusting in some very dumb things, like lotto tickets and “shyster” credit cards. And horoscopes: “Whether your problems be of a personal or career nature, you must refuse point blank to settle for less than you know to be just and honorable” (emphasis on “settle”). And the judge. And even the defense lawyers. There’s a code of behavior in lawyering that encourages the litigators to trust their opponents. You can imagine how, in some circumstances, this would be a bad idea. The book’s title can be read as an ironic pun.