The Coven contains all the madness you'd expect from an author who went from CIA covert ops planner to Watergate plumber, with stops in pulp thriller writing in between. At best, the novel is half-assed Raymond Chandler with a rock-jawed detective hero possessing a penchant for hardboiled argot which would make Philip Marlowe laugh incredulously ("He unlidded his eyes like a sleeping bull frog" goes an early passage). At worst, it's utter Silent Majority insanity, casting as its villains a mixed-race singer-witch, drug-addled hippies named Stud and Hugehead, and worst of all, a Ted Kennedy stand-in who plans to unleash the power of voodoo to become President. It's not a perfect analogy, though: where Kennedy lost his mistress in a shady auto accident, this faux-Kennedy's beloved is torn apart by demon-possessed dogs. Between that and Hunt/St. John's rants about the dissolution of the "Age of Aquarius," it's a fascinating snapshot of right-wing fears and resentments about the '60s channeled through a thriller. As literature, it makes Spiro Agnew's novel The Canfield Decision look like War and Peace.