A circuit court judge in Virginia gets rave reviews for his rib-tickling crime thriller about the trials and tribulations of a Baptist minister.
By COLETTE BANCROFT
Published May 18, 2004
The main character in Martin Clark's first novel, The Many Aspects of Mobile Home Living, is a dissolute, pot-smoking, love-addled judge.
"Oh, it's all fiction," says Clark, who has a day job as a circuit court judge in Virginia.
His new novel, Plain Heathen Mischief, is the story of Joel King, a Baptist minister who loses his church, his marriage and his self-respect to a beautiful and formidable "almost 18-year-old" girl. And that's just in the first chapter.
Joel endures a series of trials that would test Job and make the Coen brothers laugh out loud. "The typical plot of a novel is a parabola and a half," Clark says. "You rise, you fall, then you rise again. I happen to think the path to righteousness is a bit more serpentine."
What is he going to write about in his third novel? "It's about politics. I've done the law and religion. I figure I'll hit the trifecta."
The phrase "sober as a judge" was not coined for Clark. On the page and on the phone, he's a wickedly funny man who's serious about goodness.
Clark, 44, graduated from the University of Virginia School of Law in 1984 and has been a judge for 11 years.
His ascent to the bench was rapid, but it took him about 20 years to become a published author. "I started writing a few riffs and a few paragraphs of what ended up being Many Aspects while I was still in college," he says.
The book was repeatedly rejected, and finally Clark went over the heads of agents and editors.
"You know how when you're a child, you make those craven promises to the Lord," he says. He vowed to God that if the book was published, he would donate all the royalties to his church.
"All I wanted was to be able to walk into a bookstore and pick up a copy of my book. And hey, the deal worked for me," he says.
The Many Aspects of Mobile Home Living paid off in six figures, and Clark gave it all to Stuart Presbyterian Church in his hometown, Stuart, Va. He says he was a little afraid not to.
Getting Plain Heathen Mischief into print required only about 31/2 years and no divine dealmaking (although he reckons he'll tithe this time).
Clark found ample inspiration for the book's plot in a case of insurance fraud tried in his courtroom. "I think I figured the scam out, although you can never be sure," he says.
"I've talked to both the lawyers in that case. The plaintiff's lawyer was absolutely convinced the client was innocent. The prosecutor was just as sure it was a scam."
The defendant had collected a large insurance claim on stolen jewelry. "He claimed he had bought this jewelry at a flea market from someone he had never seen before. He said he had paid $10,000 for the jewelry and that he kept the money in a shoe box under his bed.
"Now, that's a heck of an impulse buy."
In Plain Heathen Mischief that plot outline gets all sorts of byzantine embellishments, ranging from a pair of mysterious, chameleonlike con men to a gaggle of FBI agents in hot pursuit of a stolen Chagall masterpiece - not to mention that 17-year-old who tumbled Joel into the pit of sin to begin with and is far from done with him.
Writing about a former preacher in trouble was an interesting experience, Clark says, because nonreligious readers and religious ones have preconceived notions about such a character. The former often expect him to be worse than he is, and the latter expect him to be better.
"The worldly ones say, "What's wrong with that man? Why don't you give him some gumption?' " Clark says.
"Well, he always had gumption. He just has to figure out what's right. The fact that he's a religious man doesn't make him a bad man."
Then there are the people on the other side. "My minister's wife read it, and she said, "Oh, no, he'd never go into a casino.'
"It's a hard balance to strike."
Although the book is a comic caper in the mode of Elmore Leonard, it has a moral core. "I like to write about what happens when abstract notions of good and religion butt up against the reality of the everyday," Clark says. "Faith is a pretty hard-earned commodity.
"That's what I know from my day job. Redemption comes in fits and starts. There's a lot of backsliding."
Plain Heathen Mischief has received plenty of attention, including an article in the New York Times in April that called Clark "not only the thinking man's John Grisham but, maybe better, the drinking man's John Grisham."
Clark says of the catchy comparison, "That will be my mantle to wear, for good or for bad, for the rest of my writing career."
Actually, the comparison to Grisham is not particularly apt; though he and Clark write legal thrillers, Grisham is usually about as hilarious as getting your teeth cleaned.
But Clark doesn't mind being mentioned in the same sentence as a bookselling juggernaut. "My dad went out and bought every newspaper in Winston-Salem. It's great, after 20 years of getting my butt kicked and not getting published."
He says he also enjoys the author's version of you-scratch-my-back: blurbing other people's books.
"When they want a Southern redneck to blurb a book, they send it to me. I don't quite get The Devil Wears Prada. But maybe The Nanny Diaries. They're thinking, "Maybe we can pull in a little bit different audience for this.'
"Not too many Nobel Prize winners are dropping their books off with me."
He has begun working on his third novel, and he's not one of those writers who watches the story unfold as he writes. "I have the plot already figured out. I'm obsessive compulsive and anal retentive and all that."
For now, he's reveling in touring bookstores and meeting readers of Plain Heathen Mischief. "One thing I did not do the first time is enjoy the ride," he says. "I intend to do that this time."
