61 pages • 2-hour read
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Content Warning: This section of the guide includes depictions of racism.
Grisham’s fictional setting of Ford County, Mississippi positions Sycamore Row’s story within a microcosm of Southern culture. The issue of racial inequality, both historically and in the novel’s dramatic present, is portrayed as a product of distinct influences, all of which are tied to place and time and inevitably linked to the past. The narrative suggests that Southern attitudes about race change at a different pace than in other parts of the country, and those deep roots of racial prejudice influence every scene in the novel. As Lucien puts it: “Everything is about race in Mississippi, Jake, don’t ever forget that” (91). Though Lucien’s comment highlights the inextricability of racism from life in the American South, Sycamore Row’s narrative develops four narrower conclusions about race relations in the Deep South, which culminate in a message of caution against complacency.
Sycamore Row’s first conclusion about the American South in the late 1980s is that segregation hasn’t gone away with desegregation laws; it has only become informal. Black and white residents of Ford County still live in separate parts of town. They still often earn different wages for the same work—as evidenced by Seth’s office manager claiming Seth isn’t a bigot like most people because he pays his Black and white employees the same wage. Seth anticipates that without his specific instructions in his will, Black people won’t be admitted to his funeral. Even Jake and Carla realize they’ve never invited a Black person over for dinner, despite having no objection to the idea. The arguments given by some of the narrative’s peripheral characters for the continued practice of de facto—or informal—segregation attempt to disguise their racism as pragmatism. Regarding Lettie’s family renting a house in the “white” part of town (157), a realtor at the Tea Shoppe says, “If we get these folks moving into the wrong areas, then property values will go down all over town. It could be bad for all of us” (158). His use of economic strategy to conceal his racist motivation demonstrates the rationalization of informal segregation by white residents of Ford County. It also demonstrates how self-interest can prevent community integration when people believe it will harm them individually, financially or otherwise.
Second, the novel concludes that centuries of oppression have created generational trauma for Black Americans, perpetuated in the South by entrenched racism and structural inequality. Portia echoes Lettie’s cynicism when she says, “With all this money being thrown around, well, we just sort of naturally expect to get the short end” (179), reflecting the generational trauma experienced by Black Americans living with informal segregation and economic disadvantage perpetuated by both interpersonal and systemic racism in the American South. Lucien refers to what he believes to be an additional manifestation of generational trauma—internalized racism—in his description of potential problems with Black jurors: “A lot of [B]lacks will be jealous of Lettie Lang because now she’s one of them, but if she gets the money she’ll be the richest person in Ford County. […] She’ll be uppity and rich and she’ll look down on everybody, especially her people” (102-03). His comments reflect a white, male perspective on a complicated and counterintuitive aspect of racism and racial inequality. For Lucien, the concept of generational trauma helps make sense of the disconcerting reality of internalized racism, also known as appropriated racial oppression.
Grisham crafts several scenes in Sycamore Row that demonstrate its third conclusion about race: Prejudice is reinforced by stereotypes—stereotypes that Grisham presents as ranging from pernicious to merely an acceptance of conventional wisdom. When Clanton locals wonder how Lettie can afford to rent the larger house she moved into, one answers, “Come on, Howard. They get checks. They know how to play the system. Food stamps, Aid to Dependent Children, welfare, housing, unemployment—they make more sitting on their asses than most folks do working forty hours” (159). The novel engages with this racist stereotype of Black Americans, reflecting an attempt by Clanton’s white residents to justify racist views about work ethic and moral character with observations of economic achievement—a perspective that blatantly disregards the relationship between systemic racism and poverty in the United States, and upholds a conservative political ideology that characterizes the utilization of government assistance as a moral failing. In another example, Jake describes Lettie to Carla, saying, “I got the impression she’s a fairly typical [B]lack woman for these parts, with a houseful of kids, a part-time husband, a minimum-wage job, a hard life” (64). Jake’s characterization happens to be true of Lettie (as constructed by Grisham) and acknowledges Clanton’s reality without blaming Black residents for their circumstances. However, his generalized perspective also diminishes Lettie, highlighting her lack of agency and interiority in the novel.
Grisham ends the novel with a final conclusion that, in fact, not everything in Mississippi is about race, encouraging a more nuanced perspective on the attitudes—specifically of white residents—in the American South. On several occasions in the story, Grisham represents the prevalence and influence of racism as overestimated. He refutes Sistrunk’s claim that white people hated Lettie long before he came to town through Sheriff Ozzie: “That’s where you’re wrong. I’ve been elected twice by the white folks in this county. Most of them are good people. They’ll give Lettie a fair shake, or at least they would have until you showed up” (190). Portia echoes Sheriff Ozzie’s message to Jake and Harry Rex, saying, “I don’t understand you guys. Why is it always black versus white? I looked at those people, those faces, and I didn’t see a bunch of hard-core racists who’ll burn the will and give everything to the other side. I saw some reasonable people out there” (346). Grisham includes these perspectives to suggest a more nuanced view of human nature—one not solely delineated along racial lines. He also suggests that those who actually experience racial discrimination—in this case, Clanton’s Black citizens who are themselves characters created by Grisham—are best positioned to understand and assess its impact.
Though this nuanced perspective creates a tone of optimism as Grisham’s novel comes to a close, the book’s previous conclusions about racial inequality in the American South urge caution in estimating progress. The persistence of de facto segregation, generational trauma, and racialized violence in Ford County signal there’s still a great deal of work to be done to overcome inequality and entrenched racism in the South.
Sycamore Row’s emphasis on the technical details of trial law qualify it as a procedural novel. These details also support a thematic critique of unethical practices in trial law. By casting a litany of unscrupulous lawyers to act as foils for the incorruptible Jake Brigance, Grisham creates a protagonist dedicated to honesty and justice—characteristics Grisham positions as rarities in Jake’s profession. Procedural observations throughout Sycamore Row portray trial law as a system corrupted by unethical practices and self-interest with Jake as the rare lawyer still devoted to integrity and in possession of the ability to effect positive change in society.
The characterization of Booker Sistrunk and Wade Lanier reinforce this narrative lens about the lack of ethics in trial law, and its view of lawyers as predominantly corrupt. As word of the trial spreads, a local Clanton lawyer observes that ethics in trial law are “determined by what they catch you doing. If you don’t get caught, then you haven’t violated any ethics” (159). Lanier’s defense of Ramona and Herschel further reifies this logic. He’s willing to cheat, skilled at “legitimizing his cheating” (313), and happy to enforce the rules when his opponents break them. Grisham represents Sistrunk’s habitual courtroom strategy in pursuit of a win as destructive for nearly everyone involved, according to a rival in Memphis who tells Jake there “were always casualties in a Sistrunk trial, and he showed no concern for who got hurt” (148-49). Grisham implies that Sistrunk prioritizes his personal gain above all else, placing little value on the dignity or reputation of anyone else in the courtroom. He suggests that for Lanier and Sistrunk—and by extension, for lawyers in general—winning is more important than following the rules. He observes that if a witness tells the truth and it’s bad for the lawyer’s case, that lawyer will inevitably attack the witness’s credibility in pursuit of a win.
By painting the majority of trial lawyers as corrupt, Grisham both raises the narrative stakes and valorizes his protagonist in contrast to the other lawyers in the story whose desire to win supersedes their sense of justice. Lucien tells Jake explicitly that trials aren’t about fairness, they’re about winning, providing examples of tactics like witness dumps and jury tampering to show how far lawyers like Lanier are willing to go in order to win. Grisham also portrays Sistrunk as a master of manipulation in order to position him as a foil for Jake. After Judge Atlee puts Sistrunk in jail for contempt, Portia says it’s where he wants to be: “Got his picture in the paper with a nice headline. Another [B]lack man wrongfully jailed by the racists in Mississippi. […] He could not have scripted it any better” (180). Grisham implies that Sistrunk not only manipulates public opinion, but also coerces judges who fear being labeled as racists. Similarly, Lanier’s handling of witnesses during deposition offers an additional example of manipulative tactics. By presenting himself as a friendly guy, one who really likes the witness and is “just searching for the truth” (210), he gets witnesses to let their guards down so he can go for their throats at trial.
In Sycamore Row, Grisham also critiques the normalization of greed and waste within the justice system. He depicts lawyers displaying high levels of creativity when it comes to finding ways to increase their fees: “Big law firms vigorously [worship] inefficiencies: more hours mean[s] more fees” (51-52). Grisham describes lawyers doing everything in pairs so they can charge double for even the smallest tasks such as filing papers in court or answering a docket call. Prior to Lettie’s deposition, Jake warns it may drag on for days, explaining that lawyers often spend hours asking pointless questions because the meter is running and they’re getting paid by the hour. Grisham suggests that legal procedure and tactics motivated by personal greed prevent most people who need legal help from being able to afford it.
Through Jake’s professional relationship with Portia, Grisham presents a solution to what he sees as the lack of ethics in trial law: mentorship and integrity. Jake’s assessment of the court system and its exorbitant costs leads him to conclude more lawyers are needed, but not more of the same type of lawyers—those guided only by greed and personal ambition. He mentors Portia because he thinks she’ll be the kind of lawyer who actually helps people. Illuminating a lawyer’s role in society and their power to effect change in the lives of those caught in the justice system is the guiding principle for the Harper Lee Prize for Legal Fiction, which Sycamore Row won in 2014. The novel argues that the good Jake can do for society is to remain committed both to his personal integrity and to the mentorship of young lawyers, instilling a similar integrity in them. Grisham sets Jake apart as the only virtuous lawyer in the novel, and positions Portia to follow in his footsteps and help restore ethics in trial law.
The mystery surrounding Seth’s motive for leaving his vast fortune to Lettie Lang is the engine that drives Sycamore Row’s plot forward. Seth’s disdain for racist attitudes, revealed in his burial instructions and his letter to Jake, as well as the explanation in his handwritten will, attributing his choice to Lettie's “dedicated service and friendship” in his final years (despite Lettie’s claims that their relationship remained professionally distant) offer only vague clues for Jake and Portia to follow in pursuit of solving the mystery. The clues ultimately lead to the reveal of Seth’s family connection to the violence and injustice suffered by Lettie’s ancestors, uncovering his true motive: rectifying the historical injustice that’s haunted him since his childhood. Amidst the ensuing legal battle, opportunities to confront the past and offer forgiveness help begin the process of healing generational trauma.
Grisham depicts the lasting impacts of slavery and segregation on communities in the American South throughout the text. Many Black citizens of Ford County contend with symptoms of trauma transmitted from one generation to the next, referred to as generational trauma. Traumatic events that cause economic and cultural distress for a particular group can be passed to future generations through biological, psychological, and social means. The novel engages with the idea that, for Black Americans, generational trauma can manifest as depression, feelings of worthlessness, cynicism, and helplessness, among other things. When Lettie is first told the provisions of Seth’s will, she knows “the most foolish thing she could do [is] to believe in a positive outcome. The day she [sees] any money [will] be the day she believe[s], and not a moment before” (75). Lettie’s pragmatic perspective points to the generational trauma suffered as a result of entrenched, systemic and interpersonal racism in the American South.
Sycamore Row distills the horrors of post-Civil War racism in the American South into one representative event in order to explore the aftermath of generational trauma at the individual level. The novel argues that Cleon Hubbard’s lynching of Sylvester Rinds and theft of his land in 1930 resulted in generational trauma for Sylvester’s descendants. In Lettie’s case, the effects of the event on the surviving Rinds left her an orphan. She has never known where she came from; never known who she is—which, her characterization suggests, resulted in a lack of self-worth. The event also traumatized Seth and Ancil, who witnessed the crime and inherited the emotional burden of their father’s violence and hatred, catalyzing Ancil’s life on the run and abandonment of wives and children, Seth’s cynicism toward fatherhood and the world, and continuing the cycle of generational trauma.
Leaving his money to Lettie and repatriating her family’s stolen land are a form of reparation; a way for Seth to rectify the injustice he witnessed—an aim furthered by the plan to endow a foundation to benefit Lettie’s relatives, who have likely also been affected by generational trauma. Ultimately, the novel suggests, while financial reparations and repatriated land help rectify an injustice, more is needed to heal the generational trauma Cleon Hubbard’s crimes catalyzed. Through Jake, Portia, and Lettie, Grisham implies that truth, confrontation, and forgiveness help bring closure and healing. By revealing the long-hidden truth, Ancil’s deposition “close[s] so many circles” (435). Mr. Roston’s message to Simeon also demonstrates the healing nature of forgiveness. Lettie tells Ancil in the final scene, “The past is the past. Let’s say it’s over. I want you to meet my kids and grandkids” (449), reinforcing the message of forgiveness and healing. For Lettie, learning the truth and having the opportunity to confront and forgive are important sources of healing and justice.



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