If I were asked to pay for this book on the basis of how much of it is actually about Ulysses S. Grant, I'd ask for 80% of my money back. So here's the thing. I buy a book called "Grant." My copy has an impressive image of the man himself on the cover. Even the endpapers lead me to believe that the book is about one of the most fascinating, and yet elusive, figures of the 19th century.
Not so much.
He's here, don't get me wrong. He's discussed in absentia by other characters. He's sometimes glimpsed at a gathering while others speak. In the second half of the book, we occasionally get chapters wherein the action includes him (imagine that). By and large, however, the story concerns a Civil War veteran, now journalist, who lost his arm at Cold Harbor, and an embittered jerk whose only claim to fame is that he is the grandson and great-grandson of presidents. There are also his far more interesting wife (of whom I would have liked to see more if, you know, the book hadn't been sold as a novel about U.S. Grant), and a drunken senator who, along with his arm-candy wife, just about bored me to tears. I saw way too much of them, and especially her. Everybody who crosses her path almost immediately falls in love with her. Why that is the case is not something I can come close to understanding.
So, if you would like to read a novel that's rich in historical detail, with real-life (bar one) characters who actually said and did most of the things that are portrayed, this might be a good read for you. If you want to read a novel that does "what it says on the tin," like I did, you may wish to look elsewhere.