hen I start a story with a protagonist...well, primary character written to be as morally reprehensible as Jewish magnate Mordecai de Paauw, I often drift in a pall of glumness or dissatisfaction the author will inevitably acquiesce to the conventional, with the dastardly linchpin experiencing some "come to Jesus" (incongruence noted and intentional) enlightenment, resulting in a palliative touchy-feely ending.

Boy, was I ever wrong. With this work of historical fiction, as the aged, infirmed de Paauw tells the story of the transformative growth of his business and the escalating debauchery of his personal proclivities most prominently during the period of the rise of fascism, he remained consistent in the absence of any sense of recognition how from the perspective of the disaffected he tormented what a monstrosity he had become as well.

It's conceivable the title itself is a double entendre as agitation of his hormones in the executive suite was as commonplace as with the efforts of the scientists he secretly envied in the research and development labs he had the financial wherewithal to fund but woefully lacked the skills and knowledge to ever have become a skilled and respected peer.

I thought the book was engrossing although I can also understand where some readers might find a wealth of passages offensive due to the lead character's obliviousness to his sociopathic behaviors in every phase of his life.