Kevin DeYoung reviews the book by beginning:
As far as I can tell, Carl Trueman is incapable of being dull. I haven’t had the privilege of sitting down for a tête à tête, so it could be that in real life he’s as interesting as a Lawrence Welk rerun. But I somehow doubt it. We’ve exchanged emails over the past months and invariably he throws in some piece of pith that makes me want to say, alternately, “Yes, Amen!” or, “I can’t believe you just said that!” Trueman is a professional provocateur, which I mean as a compliment. He loves to provoke, but never with sophomoric shock, always with wit, intelligence, and a writing style that seems to say “I’m British, and we invented this language.” I love reading Carl’s stuff because he not only writes so well and so memorably—who else is as adroit with ferrets, prostate clinics, and some business about bogs I didn’t quite understand—but because he loves to poke his friends as much as his enemies. Carl delights to skewer. I hereby dub him the King of Kebabs.Read the rest here.
All of Trueman’s erstwhile poking and provocation are on display in his devastating, humorous, much-needed, over the top, occasionally unconvincing new book Republocrat: Confessions of a Liberal Conservative (P&R Publishing, 110 pp). First off, props (as the kids used to say) to Zach Franzen for the wonderful cover illustration. It’s hard to take your eyes of such a playfully-serious, hoity-toity, blueish-red donkeyphant. Good work P&R.