A small group of largely disenfranchised men, including one that goes by the all too obvious pun-certainly-intended Oliver Stone, regularly get together to keep track of Washington, D.C., conspiracies. They end up witnessing a murder that eventually involves them in a plot that puts the United States on the brink of nuclear war.
While the book flowed well enough to keep me reading, the ending absolutely destroyed the novel for me. My difficulties with over the top endings may be the reason I never make it as a novelist, but this was just so outlandish and requiring a complete suspension of believability that it took away from the enjoyment of the story.
There were actually some worthwhile insights, assuming they were fact based, into the way the Arab world views itself and us. I could almost claim the same thing – meaning worthwhile insights – into the inner workings of the White House, but the suggestions were so far-fetched I assume they were mostly fiction.
The book was bad enough for me to take forever to actually write this review – I read the book in the fall – but I guess it was good enough to want to finally write it all this time later. More than likely that has a lot more to do with my anal side and needing to finish what I start than the quality of the novel.