Unlike many Southern novels, A Painted House is mercifully free of grotesque characters, grown men with baby names, dysfunctional families and racial politics. "There were no ethnic groups," Luke observes at a community baseball game, "no blacks or Jews or Asians, no permanent outsiders of any variety. We were all of Anglo-Irish stock, maybe a strain or two of German blood, and everybody farmed or sold to the farmers. Everybody was a Christian or claimed to be."

To help them harvest their cotton crop, the hard-pressed Chandlers hire a family of "hill people" and a truckload of Mexican migrants. The hill people pitch camp in the front yard of the Chandlers' weathered and initially unpainted home, while the Mexicans occupy the barn. Just across the river live the numbingly poor sharecroppers, the Latchers. Tumbled together, these factions teach the already somewhat cynical Luke almost more about humanity than he can assimilate.

Grisham makes good use of his own Arkansas childhood in spinning finely nuanced characters (such as Luke's mother) and pinpointing amusing cultural traits. Here's how he describes the inability of rural folk to bid each other a quick goodbye: "No one ever got in a hurry when it was time to go. The announcement was made that the hour was late, then repeated, and then someone made the first move to the car or truck amidst the first wave of farewells. Hands were shaken, hugs given, promises exchanged. Progress was made until the group got to the vehicle, at which time the entire procession came to a halt as someone remembered yet another quick story."

With 11 bestselling novels to his credit and more than 60 million copies of his books in print, Grisham takes a change-of-pace risk here. But, by every standard of good storytelling, he triumphs.

Edward Morris is a Nashville-based writer. Copyright 2001 BookPage Reviews

John Grisham's latest, A Painted House (unabridged, $49.95, ISBN 0553502751), shows our mega-selling, prime perpetrator of the legal thriller in a new light. This is a kinder, gentler Grisham. Though he does manage to throw in a murder or two and some dark doings, the story, narrated by seven-year-old Luke, feels more like the Waltons in extremis than a typical Grisham grabber - a feeling enhanced by David Lansbury's deft, definitely John Boy-esque delivery. Young Luke, the only son of hard pressed Arkansas cotton farmers, takes us through one picking season in 1952. It was a season of keeping secrets, a season that taught him more than most kids should know. He lost much of his innocence, but learned a lot about tolerance, sharing and the ambiguities of good and evil. Grisham always tells a good tale and this one is no exception. Who knows, maybe Luke grew up to be lawyer or even a writer.

Sukey Howard reports on each month on spoken word audio. Copyright 2001 BookPage Reviews