John Grisham’s latest novel released this past week and, like always, rocketed to the top of the NYT bestseller’s list. Unlike most of his novels, Sooley is not a legal thriller but a sports novel focusing on a fictional South Sudanese basketball player. Grisham has made these forays into sports before—Calico Joe (baseball), Playing for Pizza (football), and Bleachers (football)—but they were smaller, shorter endeavors at around 50,000 words. Sooley is a full-length novel birthed out of the COVID-19 pandemic and the cancellation of 2020 March Madness. Grisham, an avid sports fan, decided to fill the time spent not watching sports toward writing this sports story. To add in an interesting second storyline, Grisham chose to have the titular Sooley—Samuel Sooleyman—come from the war-torn country of South Sudan, home to basketball greats Manute Bol and Luol Deng.
The premise is a promising one, because Grisham is able to tell two contrasting stories. The first story, after Sooley’s work ethic leads to a position on the national team and a college scholarship, combines a fish-out-of-water story with an immigration story with an escaped-the-hood story wrapped out the Cinderella story of a March Madness to remember. The second story is about Sooley’s family in South Sudan. Shortly after Sooley leaves, raiders burn his hometown, killing his father and kidnapping his sister. His mother and brothers escape, eventually making their way to a refugee camp. It’s an interesting study in contrasts that highlights two vastly different lives.
A question I kept asking myself as I read this novel was “Do serious, nuanced themes require serious, nuanced storytelling?" Sooley, for all its thematic elements dealing with the Sudanese refugee crisis, doesn’t really deal with it in any substantive way. He has this deep and tragic storyline and its never used to its full potential or talked about with depth. My reluctant answer is “No, not always.” If Grisham did so, his books wouldn’t be at the top of the NYT list. They wouldn’t be “easy reading.” And in that, many would have even less awareness of the refugee crisis in South Sudan than the little Grisham gives them.
Think deeply enough about Sooley and you’ll uncover a plot that reveals the elitism of American society. Sooley has value to America as an entertainer. And not even a particularly good one. He’s a third-string guard for a small-time university. But because he has the potential to entertain, all roadblocks to his immigration and citizenship are cleared. Meanwhile, there are thousands of refugees—Sooley’s brothers and mother included—who have no value to the United States because they cannot play basketball. It’s a poignant contrast, but one that Grisham fails to draw out.
The first three-quarters of the novel progress in standard sports book/movie fashion. Sooley is not a good basketball player, but he’s got height (you can’t teach that) and he’s got a great work ethic (which makes him teachable at everything else). He makes the most of the opportunities he’s given and it leads to an improbable run through their conference and into March Madness. Unfortunately, Grisham gives us very little in the way of how this happens. Sooley, for all the weightiness and trauma behind his story, seems not to feel any of it. He plays a mediocre season then, suddenly and magically, he begins to hit threes (which Grisham repeatedly and annoyingly calls “bombs”) at a rate that would be unbelievable if Steph Curry wasn’t a real person. It’s all just a bit much and Grisham doesn’t do the work of convincing the reader to suspend disbelief.
Nonetheless, I was willing to call this an average, rah-rah sports novel—one that will sell well, then you’ll see hundreds of copies in your used book stores in a few months—until the last quarter when Sooley took an incredible twist. Perhaps it was because Grisham realized he’s virtually abandoned the B-plot in South Sudan. Perhaps it was because he’d overwritten his typical sports novella length and, not wishing to edit, deciding to add a shocking twist to push the novel to full-length. Whatever the case, it’s not a good decision.
What happens from the end of the March Madness run through the end makes absolutely no sense given the story that Sooley had set up so far. Then, just so as to not end on such a cynical note (which would have been preferable), he crams in a final subplot about Sooley’s mother and brothers so absurd it makes the rest of the book seem believable.
Grisham, you lost me at about 70,000 words in, which, with some editing, could have come in at the same size as your other sports novels. You had a simple, straightforward story that hid some deeper themes within it. Pushing the novel to full-length through a series of absurd twists took a perfectly serviceable but mediocre sports novel and turned it into an irredeemable mess.