Simplistic, over-stimulating schlock paced like bodice rippers and male revenge/exploitation novels. You aren't supposed to notice the amount of iconography and propaganda dedicated to his Xtian-in-name-only theology plugged into every other lurching, plot-hole ridden page, either.
It took me 7 days to slog through the first book because I was critiquing it for a (at that time) friend who had been thinking of joining the store-front born-again cult members of her family had been suckered into and wanted my serious opinion on this great novel that they thought was symbolic of the type of persecution modern Christianity was being exposed to. I thought she wanted a rebuttal, so I was as serious about reading it as I would be an analysis reading for college.
The one thing I could say positively is that at least LeHay didn't have his protagonists break into 50-page justifications of a particular point of theology.
But dayem- when I'm stuck underway for weeks and my only "new" choices for late night stay-awake reading material are winnowed down to "The Executioner" series (vague plot, ridiculous action, but at least a smidgen of black humor and flow to the writing), Louis L'more (sometime hackneyed, but always well-written), the obligatory Clancy, King and Ludlam knock-offs, Battlefield Earth, a Bible, or the Left Behind Series, I'd be able to finish and somewhat enjoy any of the former over Left Behind.
At least Battlefield Earth's "God-figure" wasn't at heart small, pouting, narcissistic, and sadistic bastard with equally pouting and sadistic but sniveling enemies lurching about in a bloody eternal hair-pulling contest to see who was strong enough to over-turn the chess board and declare themselves the winner.
That series is truly that insultingly bad.
Haele
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