A few weeks ago, I downloaded a sample of Collusion, which I mistakenly thought might shed some light on Christopher Steele and his dossier. Luke Harding, however, write nonfiction like a bad novelist. Mr Harding, I do not give a damn about what you, your editor, and Christopher Steele had to drink during your first meeting.
Nor do I particularly care for your thoughts on the feasibility of pole vaulting into the Queen's private gardens. And I certainly don't give a damn about the decor or Mr Steele's office, the pub across the way, or Stalin's bunker. What I want are important facts, not trivia. But trivia is all you give.
I have to confess, I have immense sympathy for Steele. Cambridge. Cambridge Union President. Grandson of a miner. But none of that changes a thing. Sympathetic people, clever people, get duped all the time. Especially, when they're being sold a story they want to believe.
If there was a meaningful case to make, Mr Harding, you should have led with hard evidence. Instead you engage in sophistry. Your chosen method of persuasion is by appealing to Mr Steele's character. In short, this book is all ethos and no logos.
Verdict: Trash
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