Transcript of Laura Lippman
Laura Lippman: No real justice is done in this book. Someone dies and it's barely acknowledged in the world at large, certainly traditional forms of justice are not a part of it. Justice, while once possible, is no longer close to being remotely possible. And this is the closest they come to justice is to say, "This is who we are and this is what we did, and we can't change a single bit of it." They've all grown into pretty good citizens, if you will, more or less. One of them is more complicated than the others on that score, but they're good, responsible members of society, people with jobs who pay their taxes, some of them raising children, raising good children, they're good parents. They're trickier on the topic of being good spouses, but so it goes. But they're generally good people. It could be your neighbor, it could be someone you know from work, someone that you think well of. And they have this thing that they did wrong and they can't make it right. To me that's really important, to just acknowledge that such things happen. I don't think it's a message that a lot of people are necessarily eager to hear, that there are things that we do wrong that we can't make right. But I happen to believe that there are things that we do wrong that we can't make right, even if we live a spotless, unimpeachable life from the moment on of our crime, used in the most broad sense. No, you can't necessarily make it right.
Jo Reed: Even though we talked about the fact that many people have done things that they can't put right, nonetheless, this novel also looks at forgiveness.
Laura Lippman: Well I'm fascinated with forgiveness. I think it's one of the greatest gifts that a person can bestow on another person. But the other thing I believe about forgiveness is that it is always a gift. That you cannot go to someone and say, "Forgive me. You must forgive me. I demand that you forgive me." You can't even say, "Please forgive me." It's not something you can ask of another person. It's a big thing. And everyone wants to be forgiven. I mean, I think that's pretty much understood. It's implicit in confession. No one's ever confessed without wanting to be forgiven on some level. No one's ever just said, "Well I think I'll confess because I just have a mania for telling the truth." No. The act of confession always comes with some sort of expectation that confession itself will be rewarded. But I just don't think those who wish to be forgiven get to set the terms, on any level. And I think that those of us who've wronged others need to accept that there are certain wrongs that we will not be forgiven for, and that that is not a flaw in the other person. Instead I think we should focus on the fact that those who can forgive, and I'm talking about people who can forgive enormous hurts and assaults, that those people are extraordinary. I mean, I'm always so impressed. I don't even believe in the death penalty, yet nothing impresses me more than someone who's lost a loved one to a horrible crime and can say in sincerity, "I don't want the state to put this person to death." Because I think if I'm really being honest that I would still in principle be opposed to the death penalty but I might do something that would be kind of a cop out and say, "Well, I am opposed to the death penalty but I am not trying the case and it's not about what I think is justice." But that would be an excuse, a rationalization, because I'd probably be thinking, "Yeah. Yeah, even though I know it's wrong, please kill that person." So the people who rise above that kind of feeling, I think they're amazing. And I think true forgiveness is one of the most wonderful things that a person can accomplish. I think it's pretty superhuman in some cases.
