Steve Solomon is a no-holds-barred defense lawyer whose iffy-looking advertisements adorn city buses. Victoria Lord is a brand-new lawyer anxious to prove herself to a demanding district attorney.
When their personality clash costs Victoria her job, Steve inveigles her into a temporary partnership defending Katrina Barksdale. Katrina’s case is high profile: her husband died during a bondage game on their yacht. Meanwhile, Steve’s personal life becomes even more complicated than the merry widow’s, as he fights both his sister and the state for custody of his autistic nephew.
Florida, the surreal sunshine state
Mystery: strangely absent
The mystery itself isn’t particularly mysterious. It’s neither densely-plotted nor intense, the murder isn’t overly gory, and all the elements of the solution are telegraphed to the reader early on. The final solution seems meant to be ingenious but is only middlin' so—and not entirely convincing. This weakness makes the mystery a mere backdrop to Steve and Victoria. The subplot involving Steve's nephew is far more engaging than the murder case.
Character, character, character
What’s special about Solomon vs. Lord is the interplay between the title characters. Their chemistry makes for an engaging sparks-at-first-sight romance. The repartee is both funny and revealing, in the vein of The Taming of the Shrew (though it's hard to say who's the shrew here).
Levine works within conventional legal-thriller forms, but turns them on their heads. At first sight, Victoria and Steve are nothing surprising: she's a rule-follower, he's a rule-breaker. She prepares, he extemporizes. But there's a reason she's a uptight: part of it's personality, part is because she's a new-minted lawyer with a fire-breathing boss. Similarly, Steve is a good guy under the jackass front… but the jackass is part of him too.
Levine credits his TV experience (JAG) with making his writing leaner and his dialogue “zippier”. Both are evident in Solomon vs. Lord; the repartee zips from the first page.
The man in the holding cell loosened his tie, tossed his rumpled suit coat into a corner, and stretched out on the hard plastic bench. The woman in the facing cell slipped out of her glen plaid jacket, folded it carefully across an arm, and began pacing.After this unpromising start, the easy labels—sleazeball vs. silver spoon, clowning man vs. uptight woman—give way rapidly.
"Relax, Vickie. We're gonna be here a while," the man said.
"Victoria," the woman corrected. Her angry footsteps echoed off the bare concrete floor.
"Wild guess. You've never been held in contempt before."
"You treat it like a badge of honor."
"A lawyer who's afraid of jail is like a surgeon who's afraid of blood," Steve Solomon said.
"From what I hear, you spend more time behind bars than your clients," Victoria Lord said.
"Hey, thanks. Great tag line for my radio spots. 'You do the crime, Steve does the time.' "
"You're the most unethical lawyer I know."
"You're new at this. Give it time."
"Sleazy son-of-a-bitch," she muttered, turning away.
"I heard that," he said.
Nice profile, he thought. Attractive in that polished, cool-as-a-daiquiri way. Long legs, small bust, sculpted jaw, an angular, athletic look. Green eyes spiked with gray and a tousled, honey-blond bird's nest of hair. Ballsy and sexy, too. He'd never heard "sleazy son-of-a-bitch" sound so seductive.
"If you weren't so arrogant," he said, "I could teach you a few courtroom tricks."
"Save your breath for your inflatable doll."
"Cheap shot. That was a trial exhibit."
I don’t need a lengthy disquisition on Steve and Victoria’s feelings to believe in their rapprochement. The two are dissimilar both superficially and in deeper ways, but they find unexpected things to admire in each other. Both are idealists, and Victoria recognizes Steve’s affinity for the underdog even if some of his clients give her the willies.
Crucially, Steve and Victoria develop a genuine professional respect: she recognizes his expertise in court, while he predicts she'll be extraordinary in the courtroom as she gains experience. Near the end, one scene sold me on them as a couple: Victoria acknowledges how much she's learned from Steve, and--unexpectedly--he in turn listens to and learns from her. Their efforts to reconcile a growing professional and personal respect with awkward realities—Steve really can be a “sleazy son-of-a-bitch” and Victoria really can be uptight—are both endearing and a source of ongoing tension.
Uneven secondary characters
There’s a hodgepodge of unusual secondary characters. The standout is Steve’s nephew Bobby. Damaged by abuse and neglect before Steve took him in, Bobby is both appealing and appalling. He’s also good for a number of easy laughs: one of his talents is anagramming people’s names.The book occasionally slides into pure slapstick, and Levine includes some stock characters. Worst among these are a ridiculously evil district attorney, and Victoria’s nice-but-bland fiancé, Bruce the avocado king. Bruce is strangely oblivious to the undercurrents as Victoria puts him in one ridiculous situation after another. It’s hard to believe in their relationship, and it’s beyond ridiculous that Victoria’s never told him she’s allergic to avocado. That kind of trying-too-hard comedy grates in several scenes.
Worth the read
While I’d love a more intriguing mystery and less slapstick, it’s a very fun read. Steve and Victoria carry the book. I’ll read the next in the series to see whether the plotting will perk up—and whether the characters will remain so engaging.The entire first chapter is online at Levine's site, and also in audio, read by Christopher Lane. (I don't care for Lane's "Victoria" voice. There aren't a lot of female characters in the book, so it's a real problem if the voice ruins the main one.)
Grade: A- for entertaining protagonists and dialogue; C+ for the mystery elements. I enjoyed it, so I'll call it a B+.
