By Chia Kei Yin (24S03C)
Raffles Reads is a collaboration between Raffles Press and Times Reads which aims to promote a reading culture among Singaporean students.
Rating: 4/5
When I picked up ‘The Sentence’ by Christina Dalcher, I understood that it was a book about the death penalty. But little did I know that death didn’t just make an appearance in order for the book to count as a social commentary. Death permeates every page as the main character grapples with the choice she has made—sending a convicted child murderer to the electric chair.
The novel is set in a semi-dystopian universe in which the United States has implemented a law named the State Remedies Act in order to ‘remedy’ wrongful executions.
The Act states that any prosecutor who requests that the accused receives the death penalty must be executed as well if the latter is proven innocent posthumously. Such a law was put in place after the US abolished the death penalty altogether but encountered a particularly horrific serial killer who escaped the fate he caused his victims.
Of course, such logic is absolutely flawed. As one character puts it, “You don’t battle death penalties with more death penalties.”
The main character, prosecutor Justine Boucher, was an avid death penalty abolitionist until she decided that a man named Jake Milford, who was accused of a heinous child murder case, should receive the death penalty.
It seems to be a double irony that she was also one of the prolific lawyers who toppled the death penalty institution but then later wrote the State Remedies Act to appease states which were returning to their old ways.
Justine Boucher could be perceived to have a highly successful and happy life. However, underneath her professional success and considerable wealth lies a conflicted and grieving woman who mourns her late husband and is haunted by her decision to execute Jake Milford. The never-ending scrutiny by a divided American society adds to her burdens.
Her character is in stark contrast with Emily Milford, Jake’s widow. Like Justine, Emily has recently lost her husband (albeit in a very different way) and is raising a young son who never knew his father.
Emily could be considered lower-class or “under-educated white trash” by the general population, but her sharp insight and interest in poetry distinguishes her from the other characters–even Justine herself admitted that her own Harvard degree didn’t mean anything in particular after speaking with Emily.
Jake Milford himself is given a voice through diary entries scattered between chapters. He details his experience of being kept on death row and his reasons for keeping silent on the fact about whether he truly tortured and killed a boy, which is the crime he was convicted of but may not have committed. His story further highlights that mistakes can still be made even by the most skilled and most certain—and the pain those mistakes can bring.
The six years Jake is imprisoned in solitary seem to meld into one another. A disgraceful and terrible death awaits him at the end of it.
I’ve had a third guest, and he will be here for six hours. His name is Wait.
Jake Milford’s diary entry, written hours before his execution
Similar to Jake, the story almost seems to be a diary inside Justine’s mind. Her memories are conveyed through flashbacks to describe expository scenes and reveal more about Justine’s character. The suppression of unpleasant memories, which causes them to be scattered throughout the book in bits and pieces, reflect her efforts to repress the grief that flows and ebbs within her.
Apart from its impressive character development, the novel also provokes questions about the law and the people who are in charge of overseeing justice. Although the ‘good guys’ are supposed to be trustworthy and upright, while ‘bad guys’ are supposed to be outright villains, the novel complicates that understanding.
By including characters in a Prosecutorial Oversight Committee (they are in charge of condemning errant prosecutors to the death penalty) who are driven by personal vendettas and greed, and those who have been failed by a system that is supposed to be fair and just, the novel suggests that while the law needs to uncover the truth, the truth may not always be as black or white as it seems.
In fact, the true circumstances of the murder case Jake Milford is accused of is revealed in bits and pieces and only forms the bigger picture in the end, with plot twists you don’t typically expect. Dalcher arranged it so that the reader is the one who has to discern what is true among the opposing narratives, and to determine if justice has really been served at the end of the novel.
As a social commentary, The Sentence also highlights important issues affecting American society.
The US’ unspoken class divide between the well-to-do and the middle class is often illuminated through the characters’ appearance or possessions and others’ assumptions of them. Justine frequently attempts to look less ‘upper-class’ in order to fit in and attract less attention (or to even appear more pitiful), but the fact that others can see through her act completely further highlights how appearances can differ from reality.
The strict ‘Red vs Blue’ divide in the US is criticised through how those with incredibly polarising views on issues like the death penalty and abortion ferociously attack the other. Occasionally, their arguments are logical but more often than not, they’re filled with malice. Again the book acknowledges that life is usually not as simple as red or blue, and yes or no.
Though I have gushed plenty about what this novel has done well, The Sentence isn’t for everyone. The dark and rather gloomy themes of death and grief seep through the pages. If you tend to empathise heavily with the characters (like me), then the book may seem quite difficult to get through due to the emotional struggles that Justine constantly deals with.
The tone of the book only lightens up with the antics of Justine’s son and nephew, along with Emily’s son. But even so, the children also remind Justine and Emily of what they have lost—seeing their beloved husbands raising their sons and spending time together.
Readers who enjoy speculating about potential endings would enjoy this book, as its ending isn’t exactly a neat resolution. It provides two alternate endings that are equally undesirable for our main character and both hinge on one woman’s decision (and that woman is not Justine). You could argue that leaving the ending as something the main character cannot control somewhat reflects reality.
In general, this book is definitely not for the faint of heart. The novel takes you through quite an emotional experience, through grief and disgust and anxiety and perhaps a bit of confusion too. A warning though, execution scenes and physical descriptions of murder victims tend to be quite graphic, so read at your own discretion.
Reflecting relevant and timeless concerns about morality and law, The Sentence clouds the apparent clarity and satisfaction of moral resolutions, leaving us with more question marks than full-stops at the end of each sentence.
If you are a lover of thought-provoking books with impossible dilemmas, or an adrenaline junkie when it comes to reading, then this novel is for you. And as a big fan of dystopian books, I can safely say that this one definitely meets the mark as well.
