In the winter of 1996, Janet Malcolm received a letter from a stranger--a disbarred lawyer named Sheila McGough, who had recently been released from prison, and who wrote that she had been convicted of crimes she had not committed. Malcolm decided to look into the case, and this book--a dazzling work
of journalism as well as a searching meditation on character, on the law, and on the incompatibility of narrative with truth--is the product of her growing belief that a miscarriage of justice had taken place.
Sheila McGough was prosecuted and convicted because the government (and then the jury) interpreted her zealous representation of a con-man client named Bob Bailes as collaboration in his fraud. Malcolm's close readings of court records and her interviews with lawyers and businessmen connected with the case give
a picture of American law and American cupidity that is startling in its pitiless specificity. And her portrait of Sheila McGough--"a woman of almost preternatural honesty and decency," as well as maddening literal-mindedness and discursiveness--brings an unconventional new heroine into vivid being.
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The inimitable Janet Malcolm has previously probed the soft white underbellies of psychiatry, journalism, literary biography, and a half-dozen other disciplines. In The Crime of Sheila McGough, she takes on the legal profession. At first glance this may seem like a ludicrously easy target: who doesn't have his doubts about the vast army of ambulance chasers, shysters, and corporate sharks? But as always, Malcolm has more complicated fish to fry. What fascinates her about the legal system is the endless, agonizing clash of contending narratives. "The transcripts of trials at law--even of routine criminal prosecutions and tiresome civil disputes--are exciting to read," she notes. "They record contests of wit and will that have the stylized structure and dire aura of duels before dawn."
To prove her point, Malcolm has chosen one particular prosecution--or, as the facts seem to indicate, persecution. In 1986 a Virginia attorney named Sheila McGough took on the case of a con artist named Bob Bailes. First she defended this charming chiseler against a charge of bank fraud, and lost; then, two years later, she went to bat for him when he was indicted for a bizarre, insurance-related bunco game. Again she lost, and Bailes--whose tale-spinning amounted to a kind of artistry--remained in the slammer. At this point, most advocates would have moved on. Not McGough: "After her client went to prison, she continued defending him as if nothing had happened.... She remained at his side and fought for him as if he were Alfred Dreyfus, instead of the small-time con man, with an unfortunate medical history and an interesting imagination, that he was." Nothing, it turns out, clogs the machinery of the judicial system more thoroughly than an honest--okay, pathologically honest--attorney.
As McGough continued to fight for her client, she aroused the wrath, and eventually the suspicion, of the court. Surely this nutty crusade must have some hidden agenda. Malcolm makes a strong argument for her subject's innocence: "Veracity was her defining characteristic, like the color of an orange. Her behavior may have been odd, deviant, maddening, but her devotion to the truth--almost like a disease in its helpless literalness--was an inspiriting given." The court, however, thought otherwise. In 1990 McGough was found guilty of 14 counts of felony (most of which made her an accessory to Bailes's depredations) and sentenced to 3 years in prison. Only after her release in 1996 did she enlist the author on her behalf. Unlike previous objects of Malcolm's scrutiny, McGough made little effort to finesse the narrative. All the more remarkable, then, that the most sublime cross-examiner in American letters found her innocent.
The Crime of Sheila McGough is, needless to say, a stinging critique of the legal system. "Without the thinner of common sense," the author insists, "the law is a toxic substance." (Malcolm, who's gotten a liberal serving of legal toxins during the 1980s and 1990s, is surely speaking from experience.) Yet her book is an equally brilliant brief on human behavior (and misbehavior). And as she plunges deeper into the legal labyrinth, her quest for the truth and nothing but the truth leads her to some superb insights about that other form of imaginative advocacy--writing. "The truth," she offers, "does not make a good story; that's why we have art." But in The Crime of Sheila McGough, Malcolm has it both ways. Deliciously witty and almost supernaturally aware, her book is a true crime story in every sense of the phrase. --James MarcusFrom the Publisher:
"No other writer tells better stories about the perpetual, the unwinnable, battle between narrative & truth...She has again and again returned to one theme: the vexed relationship between the objective truth and the narrative truth we impose on it. Stories--those told by journalists and biographers, lawyers and witnesses--are always a violation of objective truth,even if they contain no overt lies. And yet we are dependent on them...The betrayals & losses inherent in the imposition of narrative--and the power struggles over who will impose it--are Malcolm's great subject, her wellspring."--Margaret Talbot, New York Times Book Review
"Janet Malcolm is the most morally illuminating literary journalist in the country,and The Crime of Sheila McGough, which I devoured in one sitting, epitomized the qualities I find so exciting in everything she writes. So much of Malcolm's work is a meditation on the unruliness of truth and its struggle against the neatly organized, tendentious stories with which unreliable narrators--biographers, prosecuters, defense lawyers, photographers, and psychoanalysts--try unsucessfully to contain it...In the McGough book, [Malcolm gives us] a breathtaking series of insights on the peculiarly treacherous nature of legal narrative."--Jeffrey Rosen, Slate
"A beautifully written and tautly argued meditation-provocation on the law."
--Daniel Max, Miami Herald and New York Observer
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Book Description Knopf, 1999. Hardcover. Book Condition: New. 1. Bookseller Inventory # DADAX0375405089
Book Description Alfred A. Knopf, Inc., New York, New York, U.S.A., 1999. Hardcover. Book Condition: New. Dust Jacket Condition: New. 1st Edition. Mint, new, unread copy, in new, mylar-protected dust jacket. NF82. Bookseller Inventory # 021895
Book Description Knopf, 1999. Hardcover. Book Condition: New. Never used!. Bookseller Inventory # P110375405089
Book Description Knopf. Hardcover. Book Condition: New. 0375405089 New Condition. Bookseller Inventory # NEW7.1051707