The Emperor of Ocean Park [Hardcover]

A complex, smart mystery filled with intrigue, drama, and more than a little danger awaits readers in Stephen L Carter's engaging debut novel, The Emperor of Ocean Park.

After the funeral of his powerful father (a federal judge whose nomination to the US Supreme Court became a public scandal), Talcott Garland, an African-American law professor at an Ivy League university, is left to unravel the meaning of a cryptic note and carry out "the arrangements" his father left behind. Armed with fortitude and familial devotion--though paranoid of his wife's fidelity--Talcott soon finds himself in an investigation that entangles him with a number of questionable Washington DC denizens, including lawyers and government officials, law professors, the FBI, shady underworld figures, chess masters, and friends and family. All the while Talcott tries not to hurt his lawyer wife's chance for a judicial nomination--and their fragile marriage--but the closer he comes to unravelling his father's dark secrets, the more dangerous things become.

Clocking in at over 650 pages, the novel could easily have been streamlined; many of Talcott's thoughts are unnecessarily repeated. But Carter's storytelling skills are adept: tension builds, surprises are genuine and clues are not handed out freely. The prose, while somewhat meandering, can be crisp and insightful, as demonstrated in Carter's description of the misguided paths of young lawyers who sacrifice, "all on the altar of career... at last arriving... at their cherished career goals, partnerships, professorships, judgeships, whatever kind of ships they dream of sailing, and then looking around at the angry, empty waters and realizing that they have arrived with nothing, absolutely nothing, and wondering what to do with the rest of their wretched lives". --Michael Ferch

‘Spellbinding… a truly literary thriller - a masterly amalgam of suspense and sensibility’

'A melodrama with brains and heart to match its killer plot. . . . Irresistible.'

'Beautifully written and cleverly plotted. The Emperor of Ocean Park is a rich, complex family saga, one deftly woven through a fine legal thriller.'

‘A significant literary event’ --This text refers to the Paperback edition.

'Beautifully written and cleverly plotted' John Grisham --This text refers to the Paperback edition.

‘A brilliant literary thriller…The suspense is unbearable…exhilaratingly intelligent and entertaining’ --This text refers to the Paperback edition.

‘…an absorbing and exciting mystery…The book is superb, both as a thriller and as a novel of social observation’ --This text refers to the Paperback edition.

‘A compulsive read…Carter ramps up the story’s energy with a constant supply of cliff-hangers’ --This text refers to the Paperback edition.

‘A thrilling read, driven by a powerful cocktail of plot and character’ --This text refers to the Paperback edition.

The most talked about fiction debut in years: a large, suspense-laden thriller that is also a novel of brilliantly astute social observation focusing on two fascinating worlds: that of the New York-Washington black upper middle class, and the complex world of an Ivy League law school. Judge Oliver Garland has just died in suspicious circumstances. Conservative and famously controversial, Garland has made many enemies. Many years ago, he'd earned a judge's highest prize: a Supreme Court nomination. But in a scene of bitter humiliation in front of a televised audience and before the eyes of his family, he had to withdraw his nomination. It was a national scandal, and a private agony, one from which he never recovered. Now, years later, the judge's death raises even more questions than his life did and seems to be leading to a second, even more terrible scandal. Could he have been murdered? He has left a strange message for his son Talcott, a professor at an elite Ivy League law school - entrusting him with 'the arrangements' - a mysterious puzzle that only Tal can unlock, and only by unearthing the ambiguities of his father's turbulent past. When another man is found dead, and then another, Talcott must risk life, marriage and reputation, following the clues his father left him. Intricate, superbly written, often scathingly funny, The Emperor of Ocean Park is a triumphant work of fiction, a brilliantly crafted tapestry of ambition, family secrets, murder, and justice gone terribly wrong.

One of the key novels of the decade: huge, brilliant and utterly compelling

Stephen L. Carter is the William Nelson Cromwell Professor of Law at Yale University, where he has taught since 1982. He is the author of seven non-fiction books. He and his family live near New Haven, Connecticut. (20021018) --This text refers to the Paperback edition.

This is the happiest day of my life," burbles my wife of nearly nine years on what will shortly become one of the saddest days of mine.
"I see," I answer, my tone conveying my hurt.
"Oh, Misha, grow up. I'm not comparing it with marrying you." A pause. "Or with having a baby," she adds as a footnote.
"I know, I understand."
Another pause. I hate pauses on the telephone, but, then, I hate the telephone itself, and much else besides. In the background, I hear a laughing male voice. Although it is almost eleven in the morning in the East, it is just nearing eight in San Francisco. But there is no need to be suspicious: she could be calling from a restaurant, a shopping mall, or a conference room.
Or not.
"I thought you would be happy for me," Kimmer says at last.
"I am happy for you," I assure her, far too late. "It's just-"
"Oh, Misha, come on." She is impatient now. "I'm not your father, okay? I know what I'm getting into. What happened to him is not going to happen to me. What happened to you is not going to happen to our son. Okay? Honey?"
Nothing happened to me, I almost lie, but I refrain, in part because I like the rare and scrumptious taste of Honey. With Kimmer for once so happy, I do not want to cause trouble. I certainly do not want to tell her that the joy I feel at her accomplishment is diminished by my concern over how my father will react. I say softly, "I just worry about you, that's all."
"I can take care of myself," Kimmer assures me, a proposition so utterly true that it is frightening. I marvel at my wife's capacity to hide good news, at least from her husband. She learned some time yesterday that her years of subtle lobbying and careful political contributions have at last paid off, that she is among the finalists for a vacancy on the federal court of appeals. I try not to wonder how many people she shared her joy with before she got around to calling home.
"I miss you," I say.
"Well, that's sweet, but, unfortunately, it's starting to look like I gotta stay out here till tomorrow."
"I thought you were coming home tonight."
"I was, but-well, I just can't."
"I see."
"Oh, Misha, I'm not staying away on purpose. It's my job. There's nothing I can do about it." A few seconds while we think this through together. "I'll be home as soon as I can, you know that."
"I know, darling, I know." I am standing behind my desk and looking down into the courtyard at the students lying on the grass, noses in their casebooks, or playing volleyball, trying to stretch the New England summer as they leap about in the dying October sun. My office is spacious and bright but a bit disorderly, which is also generally the state of my life. "I know," I say a third time, for we are at that stage in our marriage when we seem to be running out of conversation.
After a suitable period of silence, Kimmer returns to practicalities. "Guess what? The FBI will be starting to talk to my friends soon. My husband too. When Ruthie said that, I'm like, 'I hope he won't tell them all my sins.'" A small laugh, wary and confident at the same time. My wife knows she can count on me. And, so knowing, she turns suddenly humble. "I realize they're thinking about other people," she continues, "and some of them have awfully good résumés. But Ruthie says I have a really good shot." Ruthie being Ruth Silverman, our law school classmate, Kimmer's sometime friend, and now deputy White House counsel.
"You do if they go on merit," I say loyally.
"You don't sound like you think I'm gonna get it."
"I think you should get it." And this is true. My wife is the second-smartest lawyer I know. She is a partner in the biggest law firm in Elm Harbor, which Kimmer considers a small town and I consider a fair-sized city. Only two other women have risen so high, and nobody else who isn't white.
"I guess the fix could be in," she concedes.
"I hope it isn't. I want you to get what you want. And deserve." I hesitate, then plunge. "I love you, Kimmer. I always will."
My wife, reluctant to return this sentiment, strikes out in another direction. "There are maybe four or five finalists. Ruthie says some of them are law professors. She says two or three of them are your colleagues." This makes me smile, but not with pleasure. Ruthie is far too cagey to have mentioned any names, but Kimmer and I both know perfectly well that two or three colleagues boils down to Marc Hadley, considered by some the most brilliant member of the faculty, even though he has published exactly one book in a quarter-century of law teaching, and that came almost twenty years ago. Marc and I used to be fairly close, and I am not close to many people, especially at the university; but the unexpected death of Judge Julius Krantz four months ago ruined what slight friendship we had, sparking the behind-the-scenes competition that has led us to this moment.
"It's hard to believe the President would pick another law professor," I offer, just for something to say. Marc has been lobbying for a judgeship longer than my wife, and helped Ruthie, once a favored student, land her current position.
"The best judges are people who have practiced real law for a while." My wife speaks as though quoting an official contest rule.
"I tend to agree."
"Let's hope the President agrees."