If some...strains readers’ credulity, Turow sucks them back in with smart, insider information ... Where Turow is less successful, surprisingly, is something you’d think would be second nature: Sabich’s voice. Murders aside, there’s always been an autobiographical element to Sabich, who’s the same age as Turow and has done similar work. But you gotta hope Turow isn’t the stiff, weirdly formal prig that Sabich seems to be ... Whenever things get heated, the book’s tone feels off. But that’s not all that often, and I’d still be happy to have Sabich back for another adventure, hopefully involving a murderer who doesn’t live with him.
Lacks the earlier novel’s tweaked energy, the way Rusty’s desires both to escape and to preserve what he has chase each other in ever-tightening circles. In Presumed Guilty, Rusty has less at stake, even though he regards Bea as his last shot at romantic happiness. To be blunt, Rusty, like most everymen, is fairly boring ... His hero has shed the complications that once led him to the dock and, with them, everything that made him interesting.
