Glenn Beck is a man of many talents. He draws millions of people to their radios every day. He gets millions more to tune into his Fox News show. And he wrote a terrible, terrible novel.
“Wait a minute. Glenn Beck … wrote a novel?”
Oh yes, dear reader, he did. Beck’s The Overton Window hit the stands this July and immediately jumped to the top of the New York Times Bestseller List.
Its plot is nothing special. Arthur Gardner, the public relations mastermind responsible for Che Guevara T-shirts and the Pet Rock fad, decides to set off an atomic bomb and overthrow the U.S. government. And how does he set it all in motion? Progressivism.
You know, basic thriller fare.
What stands out about the novel isn’t its strained paranoia or conspiratorial plot twists. It’s how well Beck was able to adapt his peculiar brand of political commentary to fiction. Amazingly, he and his cadre of ghostwriters manage to cram hours of radio and television rants into a tidy, 336-page book. The Overton Window isn’t really about a far-reaching, nefarious plot to overthrow American’s freedoms and values. And for Beck’s sake, let’s hope it’s not meant to be a snappy thriller novel, because it fails … miserably. No, The Overton Window is meant to print money. Lots of it.
In that respect, Beck has picked a genre that will go a long way toward helping him capture his audience’s attention at the bookstore. The book is the political equivalent of a dime-store paperback; it’s cheap, it plays to raw desires, and it gives its audience exactly what they want.
Midway through the plot, for example, Gardner’s odious plot to undermine American values is revealed on a PowerPoint presentation. Slide after slide describes how public education reform will “de-emphasize the individual,” how additional voters’ rights will “expand malleable voter bases.” The end of America is simple, clean, and obvious.
In a perverted way, it’s perfect.
Beck says that The Overton Window is fact-based fiction, or, in his words, “faction.” He even includes a 30-page afterword that cites various unemployment figures, disaster scenarios, and the economics of financial bailouts. In a genre defined as “completely fictional books with plots rooted in fact,” Beck created an ideal environment for his oft-used method of fear mongering.
This is when I should probably write a pointed, witty joke about how Beck’s entire persona is “faction.” Or maybe chuckle to myself about the portmanteau itself. While it’s tempting, I can’t do either. Dude’s got a good scam going.
By turning himself into a wildly popular brand, Beck can slap his name onto almost anything, and then watch as the cash rolls in. Look no further than the cover of The Overton Window—Beck’s name overshadows not only the title, but also the Statue of Liberty. It may be standard practice for mass-produced paperbacks, but Beck isn’t James Patterson or John Grisham. His novel exists by virtue of his fame, not the other way around.
The Overton Window is unlike his other forays, such as his Christmas memoir or comedy tour—yes, comedy tour—because it purposefully blurs the line between the real world and his delusions. For his audience, Beck only created a make-believe genre for a make-believe world. So, it ultimately didn’t matter what The Overton Window was about. With the Glenn Beck seal of self-approval, it was a lock to top bestseller lists.
And until a public relations-crazed, pseudo-socialist villain rips the Constitution to shreds, Beck’s guaranteed to keep banking millions.
Do you miss YOUR America? Tell Chris about it at cheller@georgetownvoice.com
