Each year, John Grisham churns out a mechanical, speed-readable legal thriller that's spiced with a hot-button social issue or two. Each year, readers buy the book in droves to see which troubled young lawyer has disturbed what massive conspiracy this time around. It's fun for everyone: Fans get to debate who will star in the inevitable movie adaptation, while Grisham gets money, notoriety, and job security. But The Brethren presents a curious speed bump in his decade-long ride on literary cruise control. Most notably, there isn't a single film-friendly hero here: The eponymous brethren are three aging former judges, all justly serving time in federal prison for unrelated crimes. They pass the time with mock court sessions, jailhouse lawyering, and an increasingly complex blackmail scheme that targets rich, closeted gay men. Meanwhile, CIA director Teddy Maynard spearheads an ambitious plot to double defense spending by pushing a sympathetic patsy into the presidency. Maynard's catspaw, Aaron Lake, is a relatively unknown, politically quiet Arizona congressman who seems both biddable and buyable. There's only one plausibly relevant connection between these two plotlines, and Grisham takes his time getting there. Even when the book finally coheres, the fireworks are minimal; the inescapable lawyer-vs.-conspiracy intrigue consists mostly of the CIA keeping a bemused and all-powerful eye on the brethren's pathetically sloppy errand boy, and the ending fizzles to a tame conclusion. Still, for Grisham, The Brethren is downright daring. The unlikable characters, unhurried pacing, and unbalanced conflict are such cinematic poison that they seem practically literary. The lack of suspense or internal drive gives Grisham room to play (albeit clumsily) with the ins and outs of his quirky characters and make a few clumsier dire threats about the cash-equals-credibility future of American elections. The Brethren isn't especially exciting, nor is it especially glib. But it is suspiciously relevant to the current presidential election, as well as a satisfying break from Grisham-as-usual.