Potomac Beach is billed as satire, which, as a genre, is intended to expose folly. So when an author navigates the treacherous satirical waters of political fiction, he has to assume that the reader will be preoccupied with wondering if the characters and situations are real.
Writer Eron Shosteck has created ex-plumber Charles Lattan, a vastly incompetent Idaho Congressman fumbling pathetically in the role of an important delegate who has to fight for his political life. Potomac Beach is the disturbing story of Lattan waffling through a hot election race with the potential emergence of a controversial French Fry Tax. How will the starch-loving Idaho voters react to the tax on their very precious commodity?
I use the word "disturbing" to describe the story only because Lattan's gaffs are a little too foolish and hit a little too close to home. And because Shosteck's actual career background includes congressional staffer, I can't help but assume he got his fodder from the inside.
Lattan is the kind "protagonist" who makes a reader groan at his egomaniacal ineptitude. As one of Lattan's theoretical constituents, I do not want to read anymore.
The book has a distraction that is prevalent from page one to the end: Shosteck's obsessive compulsive infatuation with ellipses. Every ... other ... phrase ... has no ending. Though I was fixated on assessing the truth in the story, I thank the superfluous ellipses for refocusing my frustration. No real Idahoan would elect such a doofus as Lattan to represent the state.
Surely this satire is pure fiction, right?