The Truth Hurts by Andrew Boe
The Truth Hurts by Andrew Boe is 'an unflinching exploration of the fault lines in our justice system by an outsider who found his way in.' Written by a Burmese refugee to Australia in the seventies to a celebrated/hated career in criminal law, the book explores some of the cases that have haunted Boe. He specifically instructs his reader to not read the text as a memoir, yet cedes, at least throughout the first few chapters, that his youth feeds into the development of his career. The book is structured into fifteen chapters that loosely deal with their own separate matter, or defendant, that Boe worked on or with. Each chapter is its own self-contained narrative, where he focuses his authorial gaze on a case that he worked or his experiences with groups in society, which segway into his opinions on the system in which we all live, work and interact with to varying degrees. Boe asserts that each of his cases taught him something more about the ugly side of how the criminal law system treats those colonised and those paternalized, privately, publicly, and systematically. It is not new information, but it never hurts to be reminded of what work is still to be done.
Boe’s incisive language cuts throughout the entire book, and the further in a reader goes, the reader experiences him casting off his reservations about sparing anyone, even ‘important’ members of society. Especially, one might argue, important members of society. The tone shifts during the chapter on Ivan Milat, where the reader clearly senses that the baby fat of Boe’s formative years in both his personal life and his professional career has been shed, and he is left with a lean, clear, penetrating, and scathing critique of the people and the systems that determine ‘justice’. The chapters do not tend to offer answers to the questions Boe raises, more often than not taking a more moderate stance so that the questions must be carefully considered by the reader. This sometimes feels anti-climactic, but I would prefer no answers over bad answers to the big questions. If anything, Boe invites constant reflection and revaluation on the reader’s core values and attitudes.
This book is written primarily for a commercial, layperson audience. Throughout the book, concepts of criminal practice and procedure are raised, and are explained in a few simple and concise sentences, sometimes a short paragraph. For some, this might feel like Boe assumes his readers are unintelligent. The tone, however, is never one that asserts a superiority over its audience; Boe is here to help, and he needs his reader to understand the ‘i’s he has to dot and the ‘t’s he has to cross so that he can properly persuade readers to take his point. I, for one, am grateful for the thirty-five-word sentence that captures the purpose and essence of an application for a grant of special leave to the High Court. There are some things you just cannot learn during your Priestley 11 subjects.
The writing itself far exceeded any of my assumptions prior to opening the first chapter. It utilises every technique of creative narrative: plot, pace, setting, tension, imagery, characterisation, voice and tone. Of all creative devices, Voice and characterisation was especially potent. Boe does not labour over character descriptions but sketches out his clients and other people from his personal and professional life with brevity but acute focus. The authorial voice is close, conversational, reflective, often witty and humorous, sometimes remorseful. It is equally as authoritative, passionate, and above all else, quintessentially barrister-like, using storytelling to drive home a point. The ending to every chapter is a microphone drop.
The storytelling and character-building qualities alone are enough for me to recommend The Truth Hurts to anyone with the faintest interest in the Australian justice system. This is definitely a must-read for anyone interested in practising in or around criminal law and its reform, social work, and social justice realms.
Book review by Ashton Darracott
This article appeared in the The Gavel #1 ‘The Among Us Issue’ (2021) Publication