As the novel opens, Ben Roberts is a whip-smart wise guy with commitment issues (“I needed to see a therapist, but I didn’t trust them because I’m a reporter and I don’t trust anybody”) but driven by a fierce loyalty to his profession. When he’s laid off by the San Diego Sun, he changes from a man with a mission into an ordinary Joe “who happened to have above-average typing skills,” he notes. “Big whoop.” The Sun’s recent acquisition by a private equity firm leaves no room for the newsgathering zeal of old, which has given way to website videos of live animal births and puff pieces on the mayor’s weight-loss campaign. Compounding Ben’s troubles, the new editor, Aaron Pock, spiked an explosive story he’d been writing about Becky Strand, an ambitious city councilmember who was ready to cast the swing vote for a new football stadium in return for a $500,000 campaign contribution. However, Ben can’t take his story elsewhere without staring down a lawsuit, so he hatches a plan involving a handgun—stolen from Anne Porter, and ex-colleague—and duct tape, caffeinated drinks, and energy bars from Walmart. He plans to take over the newsroom and force the Sun to publish his dream story. What could possibly go wrong? Coming out ahead will require an A-game like no other, and after he sets his plan into motion, Ben is swapping hostages like Judy Pillow, whose section brims with pieces about “spinach, new fashionable purses, and zip lines,” for like-minded castoff colleagues. At Ben’s instigation, the reporters will write their own hard-hitting pieces that management has stifled and publish them in an insurgent edition on Sunday, the Sun’s last major moneymaking day of the week. They only need to keep the police at bay until the presses stop rolling.
Stetz’s repetition of this central idea—from his novel’s title to Ben’s reminders to the befuddled police negotiator, Sally Torres, of his intent—ensures a powerful unity of purpose. For Ben, the hostage-taking enterprise isn’t about money or commandeering a jet to Cuba, but about his determination to prove, if only for a day, that newspapers can still make a difference if they return to their roots. They aren’t dying because of “whatever latest Silicon Valley–created platform they’re not on,” Ben declares. “They’re dying because they don’t kick ass anymore.” Ben’s steely resolve makes for an effective contrast with the cold pomposity of Pock and the Sun’s aptly named publisher, Edmond Crust. The latter don’t see themselves as bad actors but simply as pragmatists, determined to save what remains of their decaying fiefdoms. Ben’s heated dialogues with these nemeses offer a ringside seat to a debate whose story isn’t over yet—a point underscored by the novel’s twist ending; it’s a realization that shatters and reinforces Ben’s idealistic instincts, by turns, and one that readers will find memorable and relatable in an age of corporatist interference.
