The King of Torts[訴訟之王] [平裝] 下載 mobi epub pdf 電子書 2025

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☆☆☆☆☆

John Grisham（約翰·格裏森姆） 著

圖書標籤:

• 法律小說
• 訴訟
• 法庭
• 小說
• 平裝本
• John Grisham
• 法律驚悚
• 職業
• 小說集
• 美國文學

齣版社： Random House

ISBN：9780440241539

商品編碼：19015345

包裝：平裝

齣版時間：2003-12-16

頁數：472

正文語種：英文

商品尺寸：17.53x10.41x3.05cm

編輯推薦

Grisham continues to impress with his daring, venturing out of legal thrillers entirely for A Painted House and Skipping Christmas (the re-release of which this past fall was itself a bold move) and, within the genre, working major variations. Here's his most unusual legal thriller yet--a story whose hero and villain are the same, a young man with the tragic flaw of greed; a story whose suspense arises not from physical threat but moral turmoil, and one that launches a devastating assault on a group of the author's colleagues within the law. Mass tort lawyers are Grisham's target, the men (they're all men here, at least) who win billion-dollar class-action settlements from corporations selling bad products, then rake fantastic fees off the top, with far smaller payouts going to the people harmed by the products. Clay Carter is a burning-out lawyer at the Office of the Public Defender (OPD) in Washington, D.C., when he catches the case of a teen who, for no apparent reason, has gunned down an acquaintance. Clay is approached by a mysterious stranger, the enigmatic Max Pace, who says he represents a megacorporation whose bad drug caused the teen--and others--to kill. The corporation will pay Clay $10 million to settle with all the murder victims at $5 million per, if all is accomplished on the hush-hush; that way, the corporation avoids trial and possibly much higher jury awards. After briefly examining his conscience, Clay bites. He quits the OPD, sets up his own firm and settles the cases. In reward, Pace gives him a present--a mass tort case based on stolen evidence but worth tens of millions in fees. Clay lunges again, eventually winning over a hundred million in fees. He is crowned by the press the new King of Torts, with enough money to hobnob with the other, venal-hearted tort royalty, to buy a Porsche, a Georgetown townhouse and a private jet, but not enough to forget his heartache over the woman he loves, who dumped him as a loser right before his career took off. Clay's financial/legal hubris knows few bounds, and soon he's overextended, his future hanging on the results of one product liability trial. The tension is considerable throughout, and readers will like the gentle ending, but Grisham's aim here clearly is to educate as he entertains. He can be didactic (" `Nobody earns ten million dollars in six months, Clay,' " a friend warns. " `You might win it, steal it, or have it drop out of the sky, but nobody earns money like that. It's ridiculous and obscene' "), but readers will applaud Grisham's fierce moral stance (while perhaps wondering what sort of advance he got for this book) as they cling to his words every step along the way of this powerful and gripping morality tale.

內容簡介

The office of the public defender is not known as a training ground for bright young litigators. Clay Carter has been there too long and, like most of his colleagues, dreams of a better job in a real firm. When he reluctantly takes the case of a young man charged with a random street killing, he assumes it is just another of the many senseless murders that hit D.C. every week.

As he digs into the background of his client, Clay stumbles on a conspiracy too horrible to believe. He suddenly finds himself in the middle of a complex case against one of the largest pharmaceutical companies in the world, looking at the kind of enormous settlement that would totally change his life—that would make him, almost overnight, the legal profession's newest king of torts...

作者簡介

John Grisham is the author of a collection of stories, a work of nonfiction, three sports novels, four kids' books, and many legal thrillers. His work has been translated into forty-two languages. He lives near Charlottesville, Virginia.

　　約翰·格裏森姆(John Grisham；1955年—)，美國知名暢銷小說作傢，他的一係列創作富含法庭法律內容的暢 銷犯罪小說為他贏得瞭巨大的聲譽和財富。20世紀90年代伊始直到今天，約翰·格裏森姆都是美國以及世界上很多地方最受歡迎的暢銷小說作傢。他的作品絕大多數是情節緊張、結局齣人意料，但又不失深度的法律懸念小說，娓娓道來美國法律、政治世界的多種層麵、各色人物。

精彩書評

"Rousing...Another pedal-to-the-metal crowd-pleaser."
——People

"Offers everything one expects from Grisham...delivers with a vengeance."
——The Seattle Times

"Satisfying...a lot of fun...When you finish it, you're ready to dash on to the next Grisham."
——Entertainment Weekly

"A thrill ride of twists and turns."
——The Philadelphia Inquirer

精彩書摘

THE SHOTS THAT FIRED the bullets that entered Pumpkin's head were heard by no less than eight people. Three instinctively closed their windows, checked their door locks, and withdrew to the safety, or at least the seclusion, of their small apartments. Two others, each with experience in such matters, ran from the vicinity as fast if not faster than the gunman himself. Another, the neighborhood recycling fanatic, was digging through some garbage in search of aluminum cans when he heard the sharp sounds of the daily skirmish, very nearby. He jumped behind a pile of cardboard boxes until the shelling stopped, then eased into the alley where he saw what was left of Pumpkin.

And two saw almost everything. They were sitting on plastic milk crates, at the corner of Georgia and Lamont in front of a liquor store, partially hidden by a parked car so that the gunman, who glanced around briefly before following Pumpkin into the alley, didn't see them. Both would tell the police that they saw the boy with the gun reach into his pocket and pull it out; they saw the gun for sure, a small black pistol. A second later they heard the shots, though they did not actually see Pumpkin take them in the head. Another second, and the boy with the gun darted from the alley and, for some reason, ran straight in their direction. He ran bent at the waist, like a scared dog, guilty as hell. He wore red-and-yellow basketball shoes that seemed five sizes too big and slapped the pavement as he made his getaway.

When he ran by them he was still holding the gun, probably a .38, and he flinched just for a instant when he saw them and realized they had seen too much. For one terrifying second, he seemed to raise the gun as if to eliminate the witnesses, both of whom managed to flip backward from their plastic milk crates and scramble off in a mad flurry of arms and legs. Then he was gone.

One of them opened the door to the liquor store and yelled for someone to call the police, there had been a shooting.

Thirty minutes later, the police received a call that a young man matching the description of the one who had wasted Pumpkin had been seen twice on Ninth Street carrying a gun in open view and acting stranger than most of the people on Ninth. He had tried to lure at least one person into an abandoned lot, but the intended victim had escaped and reported the incident.

The police found their man an hour later. His name was Tequila Watson, black male, age twenty, with the usual drug-related police record. No family to speak of. No address. The last place he'd been sleeping was a rehab unit on W Street. He'd managed to ditch the gun somewhere, and if he'd robbed Pumpkin then he'd also thrown away the cash or drugs or whatever the booty was. His pockets were clean, as were his eyes. The cops were certain Tequila was not under the influence of anything when he was arrested. A quick and rough interrogation took place on the street, then he was handcuffed and shoved into the rear seat of a D.C. police car.

They drove him back to Lamont Street, where they arranged an impromptu encounter with the two witnesses. Tequila was led into the alley where he'd left Pumpkin. "Ever been here before?" a cop asked.

Tequila said nothing, just gawked at the puddle of fresh blood on the dirty concrete. The two witnesses were eased into the alley, then led quietly to a spot near Tequila.

"That's him," both said at the same time.

"He's wearing the same clothes, same basketball shoes, everything but the gun."

"That's him."

"No doubt about it."

Tequila was shoved into the car once again and taken to jail. He was booked for murder and locked away with no immediate chance of bail. Whether through experience or just fear, Tequila never said a word to the cops as they pried and cajoled and even threatened. Nothing incriminating, nothing helpful. No indication of why he would murder Pumpkin. No clue as to their history, if one existed at all. A veteran detective made a brief note in the file that the killing appeared a bit more random than was customary.

No phone call was requested. No mention of a lawyer or a bail bondsman. Tequila seemed dazed but content to sit in a crowded cell and stare at the floor.

PUMPKIN HAD NO TRACEABLE father but his mother worked as a security guard in the basement of a large office building on New York Avenue. It took three hours for the police to determine her son's real name--Ram-n Pumphrey--to locate his address, and to find a neighbor willing to tell them if he had a mother.

Adelfa Pumphrey was sitting behind a desk just inside the basement entrance, supposedly watching a bank of monitors. She was a large thick woman in a tight khaki uniform, a gun on her waist, a look of complete disinterest on her face. The cops who approached her had done so a hundred times. They broke the news, then found her supervisor.

In a city where young people killed each other every day, the slaughter had thickened skins and hardened hearts, and every mother knew many others who'd lost their children. Each loss brought death a step closer, and every mother knew that any day could be the last. The mothers had watched the others survive the horror. As Adelfa Pumphrey sat at her desk with her face in her hands, she thought of her son and his lifeless body lying somewhere in the city at that moment, being inspected by strangers.

She swore revenge on whoever killed him.

She cursed his father for abandoning the child.

She cried for her baby.

And she knew she would survive. Somehow, she would survive.

ADELFA WENT TO COURT to watch the arraignment. The police told her the punk who'd killed her son was scheduled to make his first appearance, a quick and routine matter in which he would plead not guilty and ask for a lawyer. She was in the back row with her brother on one side and a neighbor on the other, her eyes leaking tears into a damp handkerchief. She wanted to see the boy. She also wanted to ask him why, but she knew she would never get the chance.

They herded the criminals through like cattle at an auction. All were black, all wore orange coveralls and handcuffs, all were young. Such waste.

In addition to his handcuffs, Tequila was adorned with wrist and ankle chains since his crime was especially violent, though he looked fairly harmless when he was shuffled into the courtroom with the next wave of offenders. He glanced around quickly at the crowd to see if he recognized anyone, to see if just maybe someone was out there for him. He was seated in a row of chairs, and for good measure one of the armed bailiffs leaned down and said, "That boy you killed. That's his mother back there in the blue dress."

With his head low, Tequila slowly turned and looked directly into the wet and puffy eyes of Pumpkin's mother, but only for a second. Adelfa stared at the skinny boy in the oversized coveralls and wondered where his mother was and how she'd raised him and if he had a father, and, most important, how and why his path had crossed that of her boy's. The two were about the same age as the rest of them, late teens or early twenties. The cops had told her that it appeared, at least initially, that drugs were not involved in the killing. But she knew better. Drugs were involved in every layer of street life. Adelfa knew it all too well. Pumpkin had used pot and crack and he'd been arrested once, for simple possession, but he had never been violent. The cops were saying it looked like a random killing. All street killings were random, her brother had said, but they all had a reason.

On one side of the courtroom was a table around which the authorities gathered. The cops whispered to the prosecutors, who flipped through files and reports and tried valiantly to keep the paperwork ahead of the criminals. On the other side was a table where the defense lawyers came and went as the assembly line sputtered along. Drug charges were rattled off by the Judge, an armed robbery, some vague sexual attack, more drugs, lots of parole violations. When their names were called, the defendants were led forward to the bench, where they stood in silence. Paperwork was shuffled, then they were hauled off again, back to jail.

"Tequila Watson," a bailiff announced.

He was helped to his feet by another bailiff. He stutter-stepped forward, chains rattling.

"Mr. Watson, you are charged with murder," the Judge announced loudly. "How old are you?"

"Twenty," Tequila said, looking down.

The murder charge had echoed through the courtroom and brought a temporary stillness. The other criminals in orange looked on with admiration. The lawyers and cops were curious.

"Can you afford a lawyer?"

"No."

"Didn't think so," the Judge mumbled and glanced at the defense table. The fertile fields of the D.C. Superior Court Criminal Division, Felony Branch, were worked on a daily basis by the Office of the Public Defender, the safety net for all indigent defendants. Seventy percent of the docket was handled by court-appointed counsel, and at any time there were usually half a dozen PDs milling around in cheap suits and battered loafers with files sticking out of their briefcases. At that precise moment, however, only one PD was present, the Honorable Clay Carter II, who had stopped by to check on two much lesser felonies, and now found himself all alone and wanting to bolt from the courtroom. He glanced to his right and to his left and realized that His Honor was looking at him. Where had all the other PDs gone?

A week earlier, Mr. Carter had finished a murder case, one that had lasted for almost three years and had finally been closed with his client being sent away to a prison from which he would never leave, at least not officially. Clay Carter was quite happy his client was now locked up, and he was relieved that he, at that moment, had no murder files on his desk.

That, evidently, was abou...

塵封的遺囑：林德傢三代人的秘密與救贖 作者：伊萊亞斯·凡德堡 譯者：林若溪 齣版社：藍鯨文化 裝幀：精裝 頁數：680 齣版日期：2024年10月 --- 內容簡介： 在北美大陸的腹地，坐落著“靜水灣”——一片被低語的沼澤和古老的橡樹環繞的私人領地。這裏曾是美國最負盛名的製藥王朝之一，林德傢族的權力與財富的中心。然而，隨著傢族締造者、鐵腕族長阿德裏安·林德的突然離世，這片寜靜之地開始被一種難以言喻的陰影所籠罩。 《塵封的遺囑》並非一部關於商業競爭或法律博弈的教科書，而是一部深入骨髓的傢族史詩，一幅描繪瞭榮耀、背叛、以及人性深處對救贖的渴望的宏大畫捲。故事始於阿德裏安的葬禮，一個本該是哀悼與和解的場閤，卻迅速演變成一場傢族內部權力鬥爭的導火索。 阿德裏安留下的遺囑，如同埋在傢族地基下的一枚定時炸彈。它並非簡單地分配資産，而是設置瞭一係列近乎殘酷的條件，要求他的三個性格迥異的子女——冷酷的繼承人塞拉斯、追求藝術的女兒薇拉，以及被傢族排斥的私生子伊萊亞斯——必須在一年內共同管理傢族信托，完成一項看似不可能的“遺願”：修復傢族曆史上一次被刻意掩蓋的重大環境災難。 第一部分：靜水灣的腐朽 故事的開篇，讀者被帶入林德傢族莊園的內部，那裏的空氣仿佛凝固瞭數十年的謊言。塞拉斯，長子，一個在華爾街磨礪齣鋼鐵意誌的金融傢，堅信傢族的“榮耀”必須以最現實的方式延續。他看待一切都是成本與收益的計算，對父親的遺囑深感不屑，認為這是垂死之人的最後一次控製欲的體現。他渴望迅速齣售那些拖纍利潤的“舊資産”，包括那片位於靜水灣核心的、被環保組織長期關注的濕地。 與此形成鮮明對比的是薇拉。她是一位纔華橫溢但長期被傢族財富陰影壓抑的雕塑傢。她對傢族的“罪孽”抱有強烈的道德愧疚，她希望利用自己的藝術敏感性去解讀父親留下的那些晦澀難懂的筆記，試圖在藝術的抽象中找到傢族病竈的具象化。她視傢族的財富為一種詛咒，但又無法徹底割捨那份與生俱來的責任感。 伊萊亞斯，那個“意外的繼承人”，他的存在本身就是對林德傢族完美假象的嘲諷。他自幼被送往歐洲接受教育，遠離傢族的爭鬥，過著一種波西米亞式的自由生活。當他被突然召迴時，他帶著對這個傢族根深蒂固的疏離感和一種近乎天真的觀察者視角。他發現，父親留下的綫索——那些泛黃的照片、加密的信件，以及一個被鎖住的地下室——似乎指嚮的不是財産分配，而是一場長達半個世紀的、關於“道德債務”的清算。 第二部分：迷霧中的綫索 隨著三個兄弟姐妹被迫閤作，靜水灣的曆史真相開始以碎片化的形式浮現。他們發現，傢族的崛起並非完全建立在專利和商業智慧之上，而是源於一場關於早期化學製劑傾倒的秘密協議。這場災難，代號“夜鶯行動”，不僅汙染瞭周邊的水源和土壤，更重要的是，它導緻瞭一個社區的衰落，並間接造成瞭多起無法解釋的健康問題。 塞拉斯試圖用金錢解決問題，他準備瞭一份慷慨的賠償方案，隻求盡快“擺平”曆史。然而，遺囑中明確指齣，任何試圖用現金替代“實際修復”的行為，都將導緻信托資金被凍結，並歸入一個不知名的慈善基金會。 薇拉則專注於修復一件被遺棄在莊園深處的、由她祖母創作的巨大壁畫。在修復過程中，她發現瞭隱藏在顔料層下的秘密草圖，這些草圖記錄瞭傢族成員在危機時刻的真實反應，揭示瞭傢族內部關於是否要“掩蓋”真相的激烈爭論。 而伊萊亞斯，憑藉他局外人的身份，成功地與當地社區的幾位年邁的原住民建立瞭聯係。他們口中的傳說和記憶，拼湊齣瞭“夜鶯行動”的完整麵貌——它不僅是環境破壞，更是一場關於個人良知與集體沉默的道德審判。 第三部分：抉擇與救贖 隨著時間的推移，傢族成員間的隔閡被共同麵對的真相逐漸消融。塞拉斯必須學習放下對純粹利潤的執念，理解“價值”並非總是能用貨幣衡量；薇拉則必須接受，藝術的力量在於行動，而不僅僅是錶達；伊萊亞斯則開始意識到，血緣的聯係，即使是帶著傷痕的，也具有一種不可抗拒的牽引力。 遺囑的最後期限臨近，他們麵臨著真正的抉擇：是遵從阿德裏安設計的嚴酷路徑，徹底修復生態並公開道歉，冒著傢族聲譽盡毀、資産大幅縮水的風險；還是在最後的關頭，聯手推翻那份遺囑，保住林德傢族的“麵子”，繼續活在謊言之中？ 《塵封的遺囑》是一部關於繼承的重量、選擇的代價，以及真正的傢族遺産——究竟是金錢的堆砌，還是道德的重建——的深刻探討。它剝開瞭商業巨頭的華麗外殼，展現瞭人性在巨大壓力下的掙紮與最終的覺醒。當靜水灣的霧氣散去，真相的光芒照亮的，不僅是傢族的罪孽，也是他們重新開始的可能。 --- （本書語言細膩，情節張力十足，尤其擅長描繪環境細節與人物內心世界的交織，被評論傢譽為“當代傢族小說中的又一力作”。）

評分☆☆☆☆☆

這本書的封麵設計真是太抓人瞭，那種充滿力量感的字體和略帶暗沉的色調，一下子就讓人聯想到瞭那種在法庭上唇槍舌劍、步步為營的緊張氛圍。我拿到書的時候，首先被它的紙質吸引瞭，拿到手裏沉甸甸的，感覺就像是拿到瞭一個沉甸甸的案件捲宗，那種質感很棒，讓人忍不住想立刻翻開閱讀。從書的整體裝幀來看，齣版方顯然是下瞭不少心思，細節處理得很到位，這對於一本嚴肅題材的書來說非常重要，它奠定瞭閱讀體驗的基調，讓人對即將展開的故事充滿瞭期待。我特彆喜歡那種邊緣留白的處理，既不顯得擁擠，又能很好地襯托齣書名本身的力量感，仿佛在說，這個故事的重量需要足夠的空間來呼吸和展示。這本書的平裝版拿在手中，既方便攜帶，又保留瞭足夠的閱讀舒適度，無論是通勤路上還是深夜獨處時翻閱，都顯得恰到好處。那種初次接觸帶來的震撼感，往往是後續閱讀體驗中難以復製的，這本書成功地通過它的外在包裝，為讀者搭建起瞭一個關於“角力”與“勝利”的想象框架。光是看著它靜靜地躺在書架上，就覺得它散發著一種不容小覷的氣場。

評分☆☆☆☆☆

最讓我感到震撼的是這本書對於“規則”和“灰色地帶”的探討深度。它不僅僅展示瞭一場贏瞭或者輸瞭的官司，而是深入挖掘瞭整個法律體係運作的內在邏輯，以及那些看似鐵闆釘釘的規則是如何被聰明人巧妙地繞過，甚至是被重新定義的。我感覺自己像是在上瞭一堂高強度的法律哲學課，明白瞭在極緻的利益驅動下，人性的底綫究竟可以被拉伸到何種程度。書中描繪的那些策略，那種對既有框架的顛覆性思維，讓人拍案叫絕，同時也帶來一絲寒意——原來世界運轉的底層邏輯可以如此冷酷而高效。這本書成功地將嚴肅的法律辯論轉化成瞭充滿戲劇張力的情節推動力，每一次策略的反擊都伴隨著對既定認知的一次衝擊。它迫使我跳齣自己固有的道德框架去審視這些“規則的製定者”和“規則的利用者”之間的博弈，這種智力上的高強度對抗，是閱讀過程中最令人興奮的部分。

評分☆☆☆☆☆

這本書的文筆風格極其老練，有一種老派文人的沉穩和犀利。它不像某些當代小說那樣追求華麗的辭藻堆砌，而是專注於用最精準的詞語去構建場景和情緒。我發現自己經常需要放慢語速來品味那些精準的用詞，比如對某人律師技巧的描述，那種“四兩撥韆斤”的形容，寥寥數語便將對方的功力展現無遺。而且，書中對於專業術語的運用處理得非常巧妙，既保證瞭故事的專業性，又不會讓非法律背景的讀者感到吃力，作者顯然花瞭不少功夫做功課，確保瞭情節的可信度。這種紮實的基礎支撐起瞭整個宏大的敘事結構，使得即使在處理一些非常極端的案件時，讀者也能保持一種“這是有可能發生”的代入感。這種穩健而有力的敘事腔調，貫穿始終，讓人覺得這不僅僅是一個故事，更像是一份來自行業內部的深刻觀察報告。它給予我的閱讀感受，是一種被專業知識和成熟筆觸共同包裹的踏實感。

評分☆☆☆☆☆

說實話，我最近讀瞭很多法律相關的題材，但這本書的敘事節奏感卻是獨樹一幟的。它不是那種教科書式的枯燥陳述，更像是一部精心編排的動作片，隻不過這裏的“武器”是法律條文和人性的弱點。作者似乎深諳如何設置懸念和釋放信息之間的平衡藝術，總是在你以為快要摸到真相的邊緣時，突然拋齣一個更具爆炸性的轉摺點，讓你不得不重新審視之前的一切判斷。我尤其欣賞作者在描寫角色內心掙紮時的細膩筆觸，那些深夜難眠的獨白，那些在道德與利益之間搖擺不定的瞬間，都刻畫得入木三分，讓人感同身受。這種深層次的心理剖析，使得角色不再是扁平化的“好人”或“壞人”，而是充滿瞭復雜的人性灰度。閱讀過程中，我好幾次因為劇情的急轉直下而暫停下來，深吸一口氣，消化一下剛纔發生的事情。這種被作者牽著鼻子走的閱讀體驗，酣暢淋灕，仿佛自己也置身於那場沒有硝煙的戰場之中，時刻準備著為自己的立場辯護。

評分☆☆☆☆☆

從情感代入的角度來看，這本書構建瞭一個極富張力的情感空間，但這種情感不是廉價的煽情，而是隱藏在理性決策背後的深層驅動力。書中人物的動機，無論是復仇的火焰，還是對絕對控製權的渴望，都被刻畫得極其復雜且真實。我尤其關注那些處於權力漩渦中心的人物，他們是如何在高壓環境下保持清醒，又是如何利用身邊人的信任或弱點來達成目的。書中的對話場景設計堪稱經典，幾句看似平淡的問答，實則暗藏著韆鈞之力，信息量巨大，需要反復咀嚼纔能體會齣言外之意的微妙之處。這種“言有盡而意無窮”的錶達方式，讓閱讀體驗充滿瞭發現的樂趣。每一次讀完一個高潮迭起的章節後，我都會停下來，去迴味那些關鍵的眼神交流和沉默的瞬間，那份情緒的餘韻久久不能散去，真正做到瞭將讀者的心緒牢牢地鎖在故事情節之中，讓人欲罷不能，渴望盡快知道下一輪較量中，誰將占據上風。

評分☆☆☆☆☆

好東西真正好東西有看點值得

評分☆☆☆☆☆

有趣的一本書，早就想買瞭，趁打摺果斷齣手。

評分☆☆☆☆☆

很好正品

評分☆☆☆☆☆

Gooooooooooooooooooooooood

評分☆☆☆☆☆

暢銷書，正版，原版，印刷不錯，價格的確不貴，真好

評分☆☆☆☆☆

Gooooooooooooooooooooooood

評分☆☆☆☆☆

有趣的一本書，早就想買瞭，趁打摺果斷齣手。

評分☆☆☆☆☆

Adgjkirwqxcvjkitr

評分☆☆☆☆☆

書挺好，印刷的不錯，內容還沒看