The Overton Window by Glenn Beck
Now I'm not going to talk about Mr. Beck's political ideals and merits. I'm simply going to judge him as an author. He's freakin' horrible as an author. He barely can keep his ever so keen insights as a narrator from barging into the book like a rabid dog even with his character stand-in. His descriptions of the main female lead are tasteless, creepy, and sexist. He plays every thriller and action cliche straight like a misguided flute player. The main protagonist's (read Glenn Beck) father is the evil mastermind and you simply could not make that any more obvious if you gave him a white cat to stroke, a census taker's liver with fava beans and a nice Chianti, a mafioso styled outfit, frickin' sharks with frickin' laser beams attached to their frickin' heads, the Imperial March blaring in the distance, a Fu Manchu style mustache, and a bloody Transylvanian mustache. The political messages are about as subtle as a freight train on fire carrying anvils and hammers.
None of this comes nearly as close to the "brilliant idea" the main character has. Since the main female lead is a "terrorist" and must get on a plane that she cannot get on, he decides to disguise her as Her Loveliness, Natalie Portman. I wish I was making that up. He disguises some two-bit piece of Glenn Beck sex fantasy as the world's most beautiful goddess on Earth to fool the TSA agent. And it works....How. DARE. HE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
At first I thought Glenn Beck was stupid but relatively harmless, someone to be cast aside to the sidelines with a bottle of milk while the grown-ups talked. But now, I want him immortal. Not just that, I also want him hanged, drawn, and quartered, burned alive, his skin lathered with honey for the insects, rats to crawl through his eye sockets, horses to tear his body apart piece by piece, molten lead poured down his throat, his mind being forced to witness horrors that would make Alex from A Clockwork Orange cringe, mentally regressed to a five year old and then progressed to a ninety year old repeatedly, roasted inside a brazen bull, impaled with a stake made from a moonlighter, trapped in an event horizon while locked in chains forged from a dwarf star, and finally letPor the Weeping Angel have their way with them. Anything for Her Loveliness.
I only got as far as twelve chapters which can be described as twelve insipid small chapters of no characterisation, no coherent plotline that is mangled with obvious political messages, and no *gasp* suspense. All in all, rather than pay the $22 that the book demands, I suggest you pour yourself a tall glass of vodka, drink it straight, and then bash your head against the table for fifteen minutes. You'll achieve the same mental results as reading this terrible farce.
EDIT: Having actually finished it, I will tell you that the characters continue to remain their dull bland flatness and the book ends with a sequel bait. God help me.