Then there's Jiang Lijun, the sadistic and openly racist Chinese intelligence officer who pals around with terrorists.
Keating's daughter, Melanie, is appalled by her Dartmouth classmates, whose "ignorance and apathy about the real world" enable them to "drone on and on about how the real roots of terrorism were poverty, despair, and inequality." Characters pray to God and quote the Bible. It is decidedly anti-woke, refreshingly problematic. The President's Daughter will never be a Hollywood film, but that might be its most endearing quality. Lots of guns with "TAWS thermal sights," and maybe some "MOLLE vests," "IFAKs," and "Motorola SRX 2200 single-band handheld radios." Acronym enthusiasts will find a lot to love in this book.
#MR PRESIDENT FREE BOOK PLUS#
Plus a little help from Keating's old friends in the Saudi and Israeli spy agencies.
#MR PRESIDENT FREE BOOK CRACK#
What it's going to take is a dream team of gung-ho (but also very discreet) Secret Service agents, Navy SEALs, and an on-the-spectrum NSA hacker who just happens to be a crack sniper. military are perfectly adequate, he reckons, but lack a crucial ingredient: "A father who's going to get the job done, no matter what it takes."
The woman president can't be trusted, obviously, so Keating takes matters into his own hands-even if that means going all the way to Libya to hunt down the terrorist himself. Keating reacts exactly the way you'd expect a badass maverick to react. That's where Keating has been enjoying retirement (and his wife's absence) by hosting poker nights with the boys. Naturally, the terrorist sneaks into the United States with his jihad-curious cousin and kidnaps Melanie on a hiking trail in New Hampshire. He's hellbent on revenge after his family was killed in a commando raid that Keating ordered. Keating's nemesis is Asim Al-Asheed, a Libyan terrorist and social media influencer. None of this is particularly relevant to the plot of The President's Daughter, which is only slightly more ridiculous than that of a typical Hollywood action film, as are the names: Trask Floyd, Randy Grambler, Coleman Pelletier, Bruce Hardy, Rollie Spruce, and so on. "There are sixteen bedrooms in this house," she snaps. When she's informed of his (especially depraved) indiscretion, we are treated to a conversation that, in one form or another, definitely took place in the White House master suite circa 1998. Hillary Samantha carries herself with a "familiar steel showing through her smile for an old grudge" that she will "never, ever forget." She is ready to move on from "those wasted hours and days and weeks being First Lady and pretending to care." By the end of the book, she has exerted her dominance over Pamela Barnes, the backstabbing VP who went on to become the first female president in history, unlike a certain real-life politician who so desperately coveted that distinction.Īs it so happens, Pamela's husband Richard has been a very bad boy. The back cover of this 755-page doorstop boasts one of the most ironic taglines in history: "Every detail is accurate-because one of the authors is President Bill Clinton." No, seriously. The absence of romance is explained by the fact that Keating, fresh off a humiliating primary defeat at the hands of his own vice president, is somewhat estranged from his wife, Samantha, a "snooty college professor" with a panache for crushing her enemies. With their lone child (the titular daughter, Melanie) heading off to college, Keating and his wife agree to "lead separate lives for the foreseeable future." It may seem like "an odd relationship," he concedes, but "the Ozzie and Harriet family of the 1950s is long gone." Keating is an ex-Navy SEAL whose only flaws are being too noble for politics and spending too much time volunteering-Rambo meets Harrison Ford in Air Force One. He is the antithesis of Clinton in almost every respect, with one glaring exception. There is, however, an abundance of self-love embodied by the protagonist, former president Matt Keating, a childish fantasy version of the author himself. If Jimmy Carter can do it, Slick Willy can do it better. That's a shame, given the disgraced president's obvious enthusiasm for all things prurient. First and foremost, there are no sex scenes in former president Bill Clinton's new thriller, The President's Daughter (Large Print), coauthored with literary oligarch James Patterson.
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