I knew John Grisham not of his legal works. Not of his criminal novels. Not of the lawyers that populated his stories, not the trials that filled the center of his stories. No. I knew of Grisham first as the seven-year-old that harvested cotton. The seven-year-old that survived harsh Saturday baths. The seven-year-old that had a weekly Coca-Cola. The seven-year-old Luke Chandler.
Honestly, the first Grisham novel I have ever read is A Painted House. It is a simple story, based on Grisham's childhood experience, and tells a tale about a sleepy little town, called Black Oak, in Arkansas. This is the story about Luke Chandler and the world around him.
Personally, I think A Painted House is Grisham's best work. The innocence shown by Luke is really something. Grisham's way of describing things is superb. Everything is vivid, I think I actually can feel the exhaution from an afternoon's picking of cotton under the searing, hot sun.
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