Last night I finished James Comey’s
book.
From the much-ballyhooed public
reviews, you’d think this book was all about President Trump.
It isn’t.
Out of 277 pages, the reviews I’ve absorbed
from TV, friends, or newspapers, are largely focused on a scant few pages—or
even a few paragraphs. Maybe a few short chapters at most, but all from the
tail end of the book.
Thus, like everyone exposed to phony
reviews, I thought I’d experienced the whole text, meaning no need to read it. And
anyway, I was kind of Trumped-out. So why exert myself to read one more expose?
I hadn’t planned to buy the book—but then Rob bought it for me.
Mostly out of loyalty to Rob, I began
reading. And from chapter to well-written chapter, I kept expecting, here comes the Trump stuff. Yet nothing of
the sort appeared. The message I gleaned was about the journey of one
conscience-driven man who took on a
number of public service assignments (mostly in the arenas of policing
and Justice), and throughout absorbed hard lessons about the world of bad guys
. . . about finding ways to “commit justice” . . . and finally about his ever-increasing,
personal struggle to “do the right thing.”
Adding to the reader’s involvement, all Comey’s hard-earned lessons
had context—specific among them, the actual jobs he was assigned to do, and the
reasons they perplexed him. And how often he was saved by great bosses and
leaders (we actually “see” these guys), starting with childhood.
But perhaps of greater consequence, came the insights of his wife,
Patrice. We learn of the couple’s personal tragedy and how they coped and
adjusted. We see Comey taking on a series of assignments, each of escalating
importance, but every one containing mis-steps and mistakes, combined with new insights.
At last, to his surprise, he is chosen by President Obama (not from his political
party), to head the FBI.
Four enlightening, lesson-learning
years follow. As always, Comey names names
and ponders actual assignments. Among his revelations are his two brief, but
amazing encounters with President Obama.
How tellingly these scenes depict both men!
At last, around Page 211, we meet
Trump. At first Comey is perplexed, but fair-minded. He sincerely hopes—maybe
expects--the man will prove to be a better president than his campaign
suggests. However, for these last few
chapters we are led into the Trump/Comey scenes as he experienced them. In the
end, we get to know our current president in ways we’ve guessed at but never
seen so clearly depicted.
Because he kept such detailed notes, Comey
reveals a blazing truth: our president is even trickier, more self-absorbed, more
vacuous, and ultimately a more consistent liar than the media has portrayed him.
He is such a non-stop talker that nobody in his presence gets to say a complete
sentence. You have to be sitting in Comey’s chair to realize the extent of his
emptiness—and yes, vindictiveness.
As his final maneuver with Comey plays
out, we realize our president is even meaner than we imagined; his ultimate, outrageous
betrayal of the head of the FBI is almost beyond belief.
Still, the book ends on a strong note
of hope. In the way that a forest fire clears out old growth and allows new
saplings to take over, Comey believes our country will rebound from this destructive
administration in ways that will accomplish what we’ve all been hoping for—a
new generation of leaders who govern with a conscience.
