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![The Litigators: The blockbuster bestselling legal thriller from John Grisham (English Edition) par [John Grisham]](https://m.media-amazon.com/images/I/51C6hVNe-hL._SY346_.jpg)
The Litigators: The blockbuster bestselling legal thriller from John Grisham (English Edition) Format Kindle
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'No one does it better than Grisham' Telegraph
Street lawyer. Street rules.
David Zinc has it all: Big firm, big salary, life in the lawyer's fast lane.
Until the day he snaps and throws it all away.
Leaving the world of corporate law far behind, he talks himself into a new job with Finley & Figg. A self-styled 'boutique' firm with only two partners, Oscar Finley and Wally Figg are ambulance-chasing street lawyers who hustle nickel-and-dime cases, dreaming of landing the big win.
For all his Harvard Law Degree and five years with Chicago's top firm, Zinc has never entered a courtroom, never helped a client who really needed a lawyer,
never handled a gun.
All that is about to change.
What readers are saying about THE LITIGATORS
'Unputdownable!' - 5 STARS
'Vintage Grisham' - 5 STARS
'Grisham at his best' - 5 STARS
350+ million copies, 45 languages, 9 blockbuster films:
NO ONE WRITES DRAMA LIKE JOHN GRISHAM
- LangueAnglais
- ÉditeurHodder & Stoughton
- Date de publication25 octobre 2011
- Taille du fichier1421 KB
Description du produit
Critique
A superbly plotted legal thriller (Sunday Express)
The best thriller writer alive (Ken Follett)
Grisham is a superb, instinctive storyteller (The Times) --Ce texte fait référence à l'édition kindle_edition.
Quatrième de couverture
And then change comes their way. More accurately, it stumbles in. David Zinc, a young but already burned-out attorney, walks away from his fast-track career at a fancy downtown firm, goes on a serious bender, and finds himself literally at the doorstep of our boutique firm. Once David sobers up and comes to grips with the fact that he's suddenly unemployed, any job-even one with Finley & Figg-looks okay to him.
With their new associate on board, F&F is ready to tackle a really big case, a case that could make the partners rich without requiring them to actually practice much law. An extremely popular drug, Krayoxx, the number one cholesterol reducer for the dangerously overweight, produced by Varrick Labs, a giant pharmaceutical company with annual sales of $25 billion, has recently come under fire after several patients taking it have suffered heart attacks. Wally smells money.
A little online research confirms Wally's suspicions-a huge plaintiffs' firm in Florida is putting together a class action suit against Varrick. All Finley & Figg has to do is find a handful of people who have had heart attacks while taking Krayoxx, convince them to become clients, join the class action, and ride along to fame and fortune. With any luck, they won't even have to enter a courtroom!
It almost seems too good to be true.
And it is. --Ce texte fait référence à l'édition kindle_edition.
Extrait
The law firm of Finley & Figg referred to itself as a “boutique firm.” This misnomer was inserted as often as possible into routine conversations, and it even appeared in print in some of the various schemes hatched by the partners to solicit business. When used properly, it implied that Finley & Figg was something above your average two-bit operation. Boutique, as in small, gifted, and expert in one specialized area. Boutique, as in pretty cool and chic, right down to the French-ness of the word itself. Boutique, as in thoroughly happy to be small, selective, and prosperous.
Except for its size, it was none of these things. Finley & Figg’s scam was hustling injury cases, a daily grind that required little skill or creativity and would never be considered cool or sexy. Profits were as elusive as status. The firm was small because it couldn’t afford to grow. It was selective only because no one wanted to work there, including the two men who owned it. Even its location suggested a monotonous life out in the bush leagues. With a Vietnamese massage parlor to its left and a lawn mower repair shop to its right, it was clear at a casual glance that Finley & Figg was not prospering. There was another boutique firm directly across the street—hated rivals—and more lawyers around the corner. In fact, the neighborhood was teeming with lawyers, some working alone, others in small firms, others still in versions of their own little boutiques.
F&F’s address was on Preston Avenue, a busy street filled with old bungalows now converted and used for all manner of commercial activity. There was retail (liquor, cleaners, massages) and professional (legal, dental, lawn mower repair) and culinary (enchiladas, baklava, and pizza to go). Oscar Finley had won the building in a lawsuit twenty years earlier. What the address lacked in prestige it sort of made up for in location. Two doors away was the intersection of Preston, Beech, and Thirty- eighth, a chaotic convergence of asphalt and traffic that guaranteed at least one good car wreck a week, and often more. F&F’s annual overhead was covered by collisions that happened less than one hundred yards away. Other law firms, boutique and otherwise, were often prowling the area in hopes of finding an available, cheap bungalow from which their hungry lawyers could hear the actual squeal of tires and crunching of metal.
With only two attorneys/partners, it was of course mandatory that one be declared the senior and the other the junior. The senior partner was Oscar Finley, age sixty-two, a thirty-year survivor of the bare- knuckle brand of law found on the tough streets of southwest Chicago. Oscar had once been a beat cop but got himself terminated for cracking skulls. He almost went to jail but instead had an awakening and went to college, then law school. When no firms would hire him, he hung out his own little shingle and started suing anyone who came near. Thirty-two years later, he found it hard to believe that for thirty- two years he’d wasted his career suing for past-due accounts receivable, fender benders, slip-and-falls, and quickie divorces. He was still married to his first wife, a terrifying woman he wanted to sue every day for his own divorce. But he couldn’t afford it. After thirty-two years of lawyering, Oscar Finley couldn’t afford much of anything.
His junior partner—and Oscar was prone to say things like, “I’ll get my junior partner to handle it,” when trying to impress judges and other lawyers and especially prospective clients—was Wally Figg, age forty-five. Wally fancied himself a hardball litigator, and his blustery ads promised all kinds of aggressive behavior. “We Fight for Your Rights!” and “Insurance Companies Fear Us!” and “We Mean Business!” Such ads could be seen on park benches, city transit buses, cabs, high school football programs, even telephone poles, though this violated several ordinances. The ads were not seen in two crucial markets—television and billboards. Wally and Oscar were still fighting over these. Oscar refused to spend the money—both types were horribly expensive—and Wally was still scheming. His dream was to see his smiling face and slick head on television saying dreadful things about insurance companies while promising huge settlements to injured folks wise enough to call his toll-free number.
But Oscar wouldn’t even pay for a billboard. Wally had one picked out. Six blocks from the office, at the corner of Beech and Thirty- second, high above the swarming traffic, on top of a four-story tenement house, there was the most perfect billboard in all of metropolitan Chicago. Currently hawking cheap lingerie (with a comely ad, Wally had to admit), the billboard had his name and face written all over it. But Oscar still refused.
Wally’s law degree came from the prestigious University of Chicago School of Law. Oscar picked his up at a now-defunct place that once offered courses at night. Both took the bar exam three times. Wally had four divorces under his belt; Oscar could only dream. Wally wanted the big case, the big score with millions of dollars in fees. Oscar wanted only two things—divorce and retirement.
How the two men came to be partners in a converted house on Preston Avenue was another story. How they survived without choking each other was a daily mystery.
Their referee was Rochelle Gibson, a robust black woman with attitude and savvy earned on the streets from which she came. Ms. Gibson handled the front—the phone, the reception, the prospective clients arriving with hope and the disgruntled ones leaving in anger, the occasional typing (though her bosses had learned if they needed something typed, it was far simpler to do it themselves), the firm dog, and, most important, the constant bickering between Oscar and Wally.
Years earlier, Ms. Gibson had been injured in a car wreck that was not her fault. She then compounded her troubles by hiring the law firm of Finley & Figg, though not by choice. Twenty- four hours after the crash, bombed on Percocet and laden with splints and plaster casts, Ms. Gibson had awakened to the grinning, fleshy face of Attorney Wallis Figg hovering over her hospital bed. He was wearing a set of aquamarine scrubs, had a stethoscope around his neck, and was doing a good job of impersonating a physician. Wally tricked her into signing a contract for legal representation, promised her the moon, sneaked out of the room as quietly as he’d sneaked in, then proceeded to butcher her case. She netted $40,000, which her husband drank and gambled away in a matter of weeks, which led to a divorce action filed by Oscar Finley. He also handled her bankruptcy. Ms. Gibson was not impressed with either lawyer and threatened to sue both for malpractice. This got their attention—they had been hit with similar lawsuits—and they worked hard to placate her. As her troubles multiplied, she became a fixture at the office, and with time the three became comfortable with one another.
Finley & Figg was a tough place for secretaries. The pay was low, the clients were generally unpleasant, the other lawyers on the phone were rude, the hours were long, but the worst part was dealing with the two partners. Oscar and Wally had tried the mature route, but the older gals couldn’t handle the pressure. They had tried youth but got themselves sued for sexual harassment when Wally couldn’t keep his paws off a busty young thing. (They settled out of court for $50,000 and got their names in the newspaper.) Rochelle Gibson happened to be at the office one morning when the then-current secretary quit and stormed out. With the phone ringing and partners yelling, Ms. Gibson moved over to the front desk and calmed things down. Then she made a pot of coffee. She was back the next day, and the next. Eight years later, she was still running the place.
Her two sons were in prison. Wally had been their lawyer, though in all fairness no one could have saved them. As teenagers, both boys kept Wally busy with their string of arrests on various drug charges. Their dealing got more involved, and Wally warned them repeatedly they were headed for prison, or death. He said the same to Ms. Gibson, who had little control over the boys and often prayed for prison. When their crack ring got busted, they were sent away for ten years. Wally got it reduced from twenty and received no gratitude from the boys. Ms. Gibson offered a tearful thanks. Through all their troubles, Wally never charged her a fee for his representation.
Over the years, there had been many tears in Ms. Gibson’s life, and they had often been shed in Wally’s office with the door locked. He gave advice and tried to help when possible, but his greatest role was that of a listener.
Excerpted from The Litigators by John Grisham. Copyright © 2011 by Belfry Holdings, Inc.
Excerpted by permission of Doubleday, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights
reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in
writing from the publisher. --Ce texte fait référence à l'édition kindle_edition.
Biographie de l'auteur
Revue de presse
A superbly plotted legal thriller (Sunday Express)
The best thriller writer alive (Ken Follett)
Grisham is a superb, instinctive storyteller (The Times) --Ce texte fait référence à l'édition digital.
Détails sur le produit
- ASIN : B005OKTPKC
- Éditeur : Hodder & Stoughton; 1er édition (25 octobre 2011)
- Langue : Anglais
- Taille du fichier : 1421 KB
- Synthèse vocale : Activée
- Lecteur d’écran : Pris en charge
- Confort de lecture : Activé
- X-Ray : Activé
- Word Wise : Activé
- Pense-bêtes : Sur Kindle Scribe
- Nombre de pages de l'édition imprimée : 401 pages
- Classement des meilleures ventes d'Amazon : 68,202 en Boutique Kindle (Voir les 100 premiers en Boutique Kindle)
- 33 en Legal Thrillers
- 307 en Thrillers judiciaires
- 1,061 en Suspense Thrillers
- Commentaires client :
À propos de l'auteur

Né en 1955, John Grisham a commencé sa carrière comme avocat dans une petite ville du Mississippi. Avec La Firme, parue en 1991, il a rencontré son premier grand succès de romancier. Depuis, il a vendu plus de soixante millions d’exemplaires dans le monde au travers de nombreux romans dont L’Affaire Pélican, Le Maître du jeu, L’Associé, La Loi du plus faible, Le Testament, L’Héritage, Le Dernier Juré, Le Clandestin, L’Accusé, Le Contrat, La Revanche, L’Infiltré et, plus récemment, Chroniques de Ford County, tous publiés chez Robert Laffont.
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Un problème s'est produit lors du filtrage des commentaires. Veuillez réessayer ultérieurement.
Our hero is David Zinc, thirty years something with a great background and wonderful career prospective ahead. Through David Zinc, we will discover a law firm, Finley & Figg, an ambulance-chasing law firm in Chicago - precisely "a boutique firm "as both partners refer to themselves. The "boutique " has two partners, Wally Figg a junior partner who dreams of big cases even though no one in the firm has the skills to handle such cases, Oscar Finley, the senior partner who has non ambition about the firm and would like to divorce his wife and take his retirement ,Rochelle a bitter secretary and AC the dog. The two partners are not good lawyers, their law ethic is dubious, the prices are always higher and law cases are often made complicated to increase their fees even though they fail to win even the basic law case.
David our burn out hero ends up there, partnering with both associates. The story is based upon a lawsuit against a giant pharmaceutical company. David has to learn fast as He will understands he has joined a law firm where the lawyers lack solid knowledge of law.
Bien sûr, on reste dans le monde des avocats que l'auteur connaît si bien mais pour la première fois, je me suis beaucoup amusé en lisant ce livre qui pourtant ne manque pas de profondeur.
Meilleurs commentaires provenant d’autres pays


David Zinc an aspiring young lawyer falls amongst disreputable dreamers in the ambulance chasing quickie-divorce boutique law-practice of Finley & Figg on the bad-side of town; a world way from the Harvard law school and downtown corporate practice that is his natural hunting ground. The hapless modus operandi of the down-at-heel stereotypes of back-street hustlers Oscar Finely and Wally Figg, their office manager Rochelle and the office dog AC will make chuckle, while their starched collared new recruit David Zinc does his best to retain his honesty and integrity and come out on top despite everything they throw at him.
So yes it's light-hearted but it's a fun romp from cover to cover and …
[SPOILER ALERT] … the good guys win in the end (but you knew they would from page one).

Or at least, so I thought until I read 'The Appeal' a few years ago. It struck me as altogether too ranty. What it was saying may well have been entirely true – life may really be like that – but if I want to read about injustice and corruption in the legal system, well I’ve got newspapers, and if I want to understand the mechanics of wealth behind it, I have Tomas Piketty.
It’s precisely when I need a break from the Pikettys that I turn to Grisham. So 'The Appeal put me off for quite some time. Until, in fact, two weeks ago when I happened to be at a friend’s house and glanced at the copy of 'The Litigators' I found on her shelf.
I was immediately intrigued, the plot premiss sounded so good: David Zinc, a lawyer on his way to a successful career in a huge and soulless firm in Chicago, decides he can stand it no longer and walks out. A day spent in a bar leads to his wandering, well lubricated, into a seedy law firm in a disreputable part of town, that same evening. The firm he chooses likes to think of itself as “boutique”, but it is in fact just small: two lawyers and a receptionist working out of run-down premises and living by ambulance chasing.
Well, perhaps not so much living as subsisting.
Immediately, Zinc finds himself sucked into the biggest case his new firm has ever seen, the one that after many disappointments, really could make the partners rich. But this kind of mass class action is way out of their league, and Zinc has to undergo a rapid and intensive education in how to fight, and more frequently, how not to fight this kind of case.
Fortunately, it’s not his only case. By chance, he’s led to pick up another, involving a toy that led to the lead-poisoning of the son of Burmese immigrants. They badly need, and have been unable to obtain, legal representation. He’s more than happy to start putting together a law suit on their behalf (while also cultivating, with his wife, a more personal relationship with them).
The two suits end in profoundly different ways, and their conclusion provides the basis for a new view of the future for Zinc, his partners in the “boutique” firm, the receptionist and even the firm’s dog.
It’s a highly enjoyable read – the kind of thing that takes a couple of days or so – and the ending left me feeling I’d rediscovered the Grisham I used to like. Not quite pure entertainment, because he also provides an insight into the world of the law, which I enjoy almost as much as his compelling plots. But the insight enhances the entertainment value.
So – no hesitation on my part in recommending 'The Litigators'. Especially if you’re tired, lying in a bath, or on a long flight. It’s well worth five stars – not because it’s great literature but because it does exactly what a Grisham ought to do.
Enjoy.

