Three of David Ignatius’s last four book were average or barely average, however, his last one, The Paladin, was a disaster. Here’s why. 1) Ignatius describes CIA operations officer Michael Dunne, one way, but his actions constantly speak differently. 2) Dunne willingly and knowingly takes on an illegal operation, and when caught, cries the victim. 3) Dunne is also “described” as a good husband but he’s not. 4) Dunne’s wife, for that matter, is a flat, two-dimensional character with no depth, and she only leads the list of poorly drawn and undeveloped characters. 5) One can often deduce a writer’s politics from the story, but to overtly shove politics—whether I agree with them or not—down my throat is just poor writing.
The story opens with Dunne (a man who we were told can slow his heartbeat and completely control his body in tense situation) rippling with anger at his sentencing hearing, and then muttering under his breath to the judge. He is found guilty and sentenced to a year in prison. We then go back to what landed him there. Dunne is charged with infiltrating an Italian news organization for the CIA that is acting like a front for an enemy intelligence service. Headed by an American journalist, the organization runs a cyber operation unlike anything the CIA has seen before. They allegedly steal secrets from everywhere and anyone and exploit them in ways the CIA can neither understand nor stop.
Dunne knows it’s illegal to run a covert op on an American citizen or journalist, but he is not too bright (even though we are told differently), so he agrees to do it. He speaks with an agency friend, another flat character, who advises him not to do it. Dunne foolishly agrees to infiltrate the organization, but he is so arrogant and heavy handed that he is easily caught. He is not good at his job.
The first thing he does, while in Switzerland on a secret mission for the CIA, is meet a woman in a bar, trace and track her, and drop his pants for her seconds before a photographer photographs his indiscretion. Oh, and Dunne is “happily” married to a virgin from Brazil. Seriously—Ignatius makes a point of telling the reader multiple times that she was a seductive virgin until she met Dunne. This horribly drawn Brazilian former virgin is now pregnant with Dunne’s second child, and she is either a quiet wife, whispering her love and devotion to Dunne (prior to his cheating), or a despondent, wailing banshee following the news of his infidelity. She is described two ways: the sexy virgin or the hysterical, wronged woman.
Now a year later, fresh out of jail, Dunne sets out to hunt down and take vengeance on the people who destroyed his life. Dunne/Ignatius is so like his hero in real life that upon release from jail, the warden says, “I’m sorry.” At least he didn’t say, “a big man with tears in his eyes came up to me and said, 'Sir, I'm sorry.'”
Every character is so superficial and stereotypical: Dunne is set up as the all American best soldier turned CIA agent and the world turns on him (he’s always the victim); Dunne's sexy former virginal wife is either one of two people depending on whether it's pre-cheat or post-cheat; the CIA head, who gives the assignment, is unimaginatively described as the evil boss--no spoiler, for that is abundantly clear, but Dunne can’t see it; the techies Dunne is assigned to go on the mission with are so superficial it's laughable--even their room, while on a mission, is described as a techie’s college dorm with posters on the wall and Radiohead playing.
Dunne is described as an ice man when faced with danger, but he is constantly unable to control his emotions and all he does is whine about being a victim. Even his lawyer has to tell him to get a grip.
Dunne is always exercising so he can be enchanting to the women. Every woman in the novel looks at him and gives him an eye as if asking if they can be the next one to go to bed with him. After being the “victim” and getting “set up” in Switzerland, he gives women a look that says, sorry honey, not this time. I can’t. What a man!
Dunne wants to make a donation to a Pittsburgh area library where his mother was head librarian, primarily because he wants to look good and make a big show of donating money himself. However, he's put off when the head librarian (we are distinctly told she is a black woman!) tells him that they have a 501 c (3) organization that he can donate to-- The Friends of the Library. Dunne turns as red as his hair because, without learning anything more about them, says “The Friends were all Democrats who thought the world ended when Barack Obama left the White House.” Hum…
His best agency friend starts wearing a MAGA hat to their drinking outings, and Dunne likes this. Dunne states that he and his friend sat up all night drinking tequila shots when Trump was elected.
Oh, and then there’s the stereotypical Chinese man who knows all and controls everything in Taiwan and is at Dunne’s bidding.
Final note on this unreadable mess: I’m from Pittsburgh, and even I got sick and tired of Dunne describing Pittsburgh and his blue-collar roots.
Frederick Forsyth’s late novels displayed the same type of “mail-it-in and I'll jump dump my politics overtly on the story” sloppiness. Michael Creighton did the something similar with some of his final novels, and it's such a slovenly show of weakness. I cannot finish this nonsense. I've already wasted too many hours.
His earlier novels must have been better than le Carré, Greene, and Deighton all rolled into one to garner such high respect.
My personal review ratings are based upon the following:
1 Star, “I did not like it or couldn’t finish it”;
2 Stars, “I think it is just Ok, but I’ll never think about it again”;
3 Stars, “I think it is an entertaining, enjoyable book, but it probably won’t warrant a reread”;
4 Stars, “I really love this book, and I may read it again”;
5 Stars, “I think this book is excellent, I will read it again, and it will likely stand the test of time.”