Jon Ronson is an entertaining tour guide on any trip, but I was especially excited to hear this collection of stories about extremists. I say "hear" because Ronson is one of those authors whose voice and delivery are so distinctive (David Sedaris, Sarah Vowell, Barack Obama and Carl Sagan come to mind) that you end up simulating their voices in your head, so you might as well have them do it for you. As ever, Ronson insinuates himself with strange people in strange situations, and relates his sharp observations and the answers to his probing, seemingly straightforward questions. He has a way of noticing the little human foibles that simultaneously make his subjects relatable and deflate their self-importance. Ronson is able to do this because he is a journalist, and a thread amongst extremists is that, while they may be leery of journalists, they also want very, very much to be heard and understood, and trust that their good intention will be borne out with exposure.
Not only is Ronson a journalist, he's Jewish. Practicing or not (he's not), this comes to be a liability: extremism and Antisemitism are highly comorbid. He never offers his heritage up front, but it's often asked of him or suspected. The Islamic militant Omar Bakri Mohammed lets Ronson follow him around, makes occasional laughing references to having him flogged, and even presses him into taxi service and running errands. It isn't until they are in the middle of a Jihadist training camp that Bakri reveals to all assembled that he knows Ronson is Jewish. A group of Ku Klux Klan members carefully examine the profile of his nose, and he tries to shift the conversation to his Britishness and Anglican influence. Gun-toting survivors of the Ruby Ridge siege tell him, straight-faced, that "the Hebrews are not Jews". Dr. Ian Paisley, an Irish Protestant minister, can barely contain his racist taunts after grilling Ronson about just how Jewish he is. One chapter debates whether, when David Icke talks about the reptilians who rule the world, he is referring to Jews or actual space lizards. When chasing the Bilderberg Group (a chapter that truly surprised me), there's some understandable confusion about who is really running the world. A similar dilemma arises when Ronson meets with Hollywood director Tony Kaye in his limousine with the license plate "JEW1SH". It's not the organizing principle of the book, but it's hilarious just how often it comes up.
My favorite moment is when Ronson, being chased in Portugal by the Bilderbergs, calls for backup in a panic: "I'm a humorous journalist out of my depth!" The real centerpiece is Ronson's infiltration, along with his invited "guest" Alex Jones, of the elite Bohemian Grove gathering in the Northern Californian woods. It's an evening of assumed identities, secret maps, burning owl effigies, peeing in the forest, and... Dick Cheney. That alone is worth the price of admission for a book that is entertaining and educational good fun.