Thank you to the reader who alerted me to today’s New York Times opinion piece by Suleika Jouad.
Last week when I wrote about Jouad’s cancer memoir, I made the decision to excise a section about GQ, fearing that if I went on too long in my first newsletter, I would lose people. I decided that readers could wait until they picked up a copy of Between Two Kingdoms to hear about GQ, but now things are different; unless they already have the book in hand, it soon might be too late.
The Q in GQ stands for Quintin, whose full name is Quintin Phillippe Jones. Two decades ago, Jones murdered his great aunt so he could buy thirty dollars worth of drugs. He has been on death row in Texas ever since.
Nearly a decade ago, GQ befriended Jouad when Jouad was publishing her New York Times column Life Interrupted. Jones pointed out that like her, he understood what it was like to have the specter of death hanging over your head. He asked if he could continue to write to her. She agreed.
Back then, Jouad’s health was tenuous, and GQ had been in death’s waiting room for nearly a decade. Describing their correspondence, Jouad emphasizes GQ’s empathy and his concern for her well-being.
Jouad eventually regained sufficient health to start to reclaim her life, and she embarked on a cross country road trip to connect with her readers, including, of course, a stop in Texas to see GQ.
Today’s New York Times video makes the case that Jones is a changed man; he deeply regrets his past. His family has forgiven him. He is sober and has made great efforts to turn around his life.
On May 19, Jones is scheduled to die by lethal injection. He is appealing to Texas Governor Greg Abbott to commute his sentence to life in prison.
Jouad is a white woman whom fate has given a second chance. Jones is black. Will he get one?
I just started reading the piece in the Times, specifically because of your review. And the deleted comment in mine—I accidentally touched “Post” as I tried not to drop my phone! So typical.
Wow! Illuminating and touching and very sad, Sheila.