Furious Hours Book Review

This review contains Spoilers for Furious Hours and To Kill a Mockingbird

Read from ~03/12/2025 — 03/31/2025

I read the hardcover edition of Furious Hours and I love its design.

Few stories have affected me quite like Harper Lee's 1960 classic, To Kill a Mockingbird. While the book has sometimes been criticized as being childish and aggravatingly simple, to me, who was eleven the first time I read To Kill a Mockingbird, it was anything but. I embarked on a journey parallel to main character Scout Finch’s where I realized that the "good guys" don't always win. If my faith in the law was broken upon learning that Tom Robinson, a clearly innocent man, was found guilty of a crime he didn't commit simply due to the color of his skin, it was absolutely shattered upon learning that he was shot and killed in prison. It was enough to make me, a kid who once cried hysterically over being made to repeat the word "bullcrap," involuntarily utter my first curse word (in front of my mother, no less) — "damn."

Looking back, I'm not sure why the way To Kill a Mockingbird shook out stuck with me. It certainly wasn't the first time I was exposed to society's cruelty. Maybe it was Harper Lee's gripping prose, which made the pain all the more raw even when we weren't treated to Tom's POV. Maybe it was having my hopes that things would get better so mercilessly dashed. 

Whatever the reason, To Kill a Mockingbird echoes in my head still.

With this in mind, I lit up like a lightbulb once I saw the subtitle for Casey Cep's Furious Hours at a local bookstore: "Murder, Fraud, and the Last Trial of Harper Lee." My intrigue only grew as I read the blurb on the dust jacket. The book promised to delve not just into the trial of the man who killed an infamous Alabaman serial killer, but also into Harper Lee's attempt to document the saga into a true crime novel.

Furious Hours is an ambitious book, as it sets out to juggle three narratives into one cohesive whole. While I wouldn't say it totally sticks the landing, its strengths more than make up for its weaknesses and I appreciate what it brings to the table: a gripping dive into a chilling crime spree during the height of the Serial Killer Panic of the 1970s and a tender portrait of the author of my favorite book, warts and all.

Furious Hours is ostensibly three stories for the price of one, so I think a good way to tackle this book is to assess each section individually.

The first section of Furious Hours, "The Reverend" details the crimes of Willie Maxwell. Cep documents not only the life of Willie Maxwell, but the times he lived in as well as the circumstances surrounding his crimes. In "The Reverend" we get a history of the lake in which Maxwell was born, life insurance, and voodoo in America. All are written with a somewhat macro, detached narration that's markedly different from the close, personal, and at-times lurid lens we're accustomed to in true crime. Though don't go thinking I use "detached" to mean "boring." Au contraire, dear reader. Page-for-page, word-for-word, "The Reverend" is the most gripping section of the book. I was engrossed by the descriptions of the mysterious murders and even with a somewhat distant lens to the action, Cep still manages to craft a palpable sense of dread. While I would have preferred a narrative that's closer to the action, I understand that a lack of concrete facts somewhat hinders Cep's ability to craft a more traditional true-crime story. While there were more topics I wished Cep delved into, the holistic approach works well for the most part, enhancing an already interesting story…

...and saving a somewhat lackluster story, in terms of the second section of Furious Hours, "The Lawyer." This section follows Tom Radney, the attorney that fought for Maxwell's right to collect the life insurance he put out on the relatives he likely murdered. During the funeral, of Maxwell’s last victim, his step-daughter, the preacher was slain by Robert Burns, the grieving uncle of the deceased who decided to take justice into his own hands. Tom Radney would then defend Robert Burns, explicitly framing his former client as a murderer throughout the trial. The premise should make it clear why Tom Radney's a bit of a hard man to root for. While Cep points out that Black people often had insurance claims unfairly denied and Tom Radney's prior career as a politician who fought segregation lends itself to the narrative that Radney defended Maxwell for moral reasons, I just don't buy it. Radney made a lot of money off of Maxwell and he defends his client's killer, flipping his public stance on Maxwell without missing a beat. Both of these point to a lack of conviction that's never satisfyingly squared away by the narrative. I think delving more into Radney's character would make me understand him more even if I'm not confident it could ever make me like him, but Cep never really draws closer. The holistic approach Cep uses to craft her narrative improves "The Lawyer," if only because some of the side stories are more engaging than the story about Radney himself.

"The Lawyer" also struggles because it feels like it doesn't have much of an identity of its own. While the book is ostensibly three stories in one, in hindsight, "The Lawyer" reads more like the second half of "The Reverend," as it finishes the story "The Reverend" sets up by delving into the trial of Maxwell's killer. 

Another cover for Furious Hours. I can't say I'm the biggest fan; I just think the darker color scheme works better.

Then we have Harper Lee's section. While "The Lawyer" relies a bit too heavily on the section that preceded it, "The Writer," in contrast, ends up feeling a bit removed from the case the eponymous writer is trying to write about. If Tom Radney's background essentially feels like window-dressing for the trial that the previous section sets up, Harper Lee's role in the case constitutes a few chapters in the larger narrative that is her life. For those who came for the true crime story, it's likely to come across as a bit disappointing. While the disconnect can be a bit jarring, I found it well-worth the adjustment period. If you came for the thrills of "The Reverend," you may find that, if you give it a try, you'll stay for the moving dive into the life and psyche into one of America's most cherished and illusive creatives.

Before going on, I should note that we do have some chapters of this section that make good on the true crime expectations set up in the previous ones. We get a look into the making of In Cold Blood, which is fascinating if you're a fan of that book or you're interested in the research that goes into making true crime narratives in general. In seeing how difficult Lee found it to piece together a satisfying, accurate narrative, we can fully appreciate just how solid Cep's own efforts are.

Beyond that, though, the section is largely the Nelle Harper Lee show, following her from sunrise to sunset as she struggles to write Mockingbird, wrestles with its success, and tries to write the true crime novel she called The Reverend before eventually abandoning it. While it would be easy to pull her punches given how much Harper Lee went through in her personal life, Casey Cep refuses to do so. You get a picture of Harper Lee that's at times less-than-flattering. As a Black man, it was hard reading my favorite author being quoted as saying "I don't think [these Freedom Riders]' business of getting on buses and flaunting state laws does much of anything. Except getting a lot of publicity, and violence." 

Yet I didn't come out of the book hating Harper Lee, either. No, thanks to Cep's holistic approach to painting Lee, I actually came out empathising with her a great deal. Like many creatives, I wrestle with writer's block. Even during the best of times, writing isn't something that "flows" from me like a fountain. Instead, I liken my creativity to a block of stone. With painstaking slowness, I chisel something worthwhile out of it. It takes a lot of hammering and the process is arduous; I'm the type of writer who only finds the finished product worthwhile because the process itself is like pulling teeth without a milligram of anesthesia. The depression that's been kicking my ass for the past eight months has only exacerbated my difficulty writing — I still have to chisel a statue out of solid marble, but now, I've found that I'm armed with a squeaky mallet. All this is to say when I read about Lee's writer's block and depression, I saw my own. I found myself shifting uncomfortably as I saw Lee's predilection to self-medicate via vice reflected in my own. Among other issues with the discipline, Harper Lee likes having written but hates writing.

In short

While it may be tempting to name Harper Lee as the patron saint of tortured writers, it wouldn't be a title she'd hold without issues. Even if you can empathize with Harper Lee as I can, whether due to her personality or extraordinary circumstances, she's not someone you can easily use as a stand-in for any other writer.

While Harper Lee worked jobs she was less than enthused with before publishing her magnum (and solum) opus Harper Lee's big break with To Kill a Mockingbird isn't just a story of grinding out prose in her free time for many years. Instead, it's the story of Harper Lee getting an opportunity many of us can only dream of — a rich friend giving her a check so that she can devote a year to writing. Then there's the first reason given for why Harper Lee didn't write: after getting rich and famous off of the book, Harper Lee complains that she can't publish more stories because she's taxed too much. As someone who's been out of work for four months and has been struggling to pay bills, reading about Harper Lee cry about taxes made bile rise to my throat. 

But even if Harper Lee isn't the quintessential writer thanks to her external circumstances and individual personality, she certainly shines a light on what a lot of us struggle with, internally. Harper Lee's section in "Furious Hours" is an enlightening, beautiful showcase of the difficulty in taming the beast of creativity.

While Furious Hours is split into three sections, it ends up telling two stories, one of the murderous preacher Furious Hours and another about Harper Lee making peace with losing the desire to write. The biggest mark against the book is that the two stories don't flow particularly well into one another. If you came for the story of Willie Maxwell, you might find that the story of Harper Lee dominates the book too much for your liking. I also found myself wishing we got to know the cast of the first half a bit more. That said, I enjoyed my time with Furious Hours quite a bit and I'm sure anyone else who's a fan of mystery will love it as well. While Furious Hours still leaves lingering questions about the nature of Maxwell's crimes, Radney's character, and Harper Lee's will to write, by the end of the book, you'll realize one of the most enduring facts of life is that the most important questions seldom have satisfying answers.

An alternate cover of Furious Hours. It's probably my favorite of the bunch