Jeremy Gordin's unauthorised biography of Jacob Zuma delivers on its promises… and that is not necessarily a good thing. A book about the most controversial and enigmatic man in the country should not leave the reader feeling like they have just eaten a piece of dry toast.

In his preface Gordin issues the following disclaimer:

"It would be silly, however, to pretend that this short book is 'definitive'. Doubtless there are many lines of investigation, facts and events missing from it. Nor is this a 'thesis' book; I have no over-arching point to prove, or all-encompassing 'explanation' to offer, about Zuma."

So, what then, is the point of the biography?

Gordin's 'Zuma' is, for the most part, a collation of information about Zuma already in the public domain; an in-depth analysis of the Arms Deal (borrowed quite heavily from Paul Holden's 'The Arms Deal in your Pocket'); and a few snippets of 'inside' information garnered from interviews with the man himself and some of his close confidants.

Although it acts well as reference text (read: textbook) for the ins-and-outs of Zuma's controversial life (focusing largely on the past eight years), it provides very little depth.

The problem with writing a book that has no 'thesis' and that doesn't even try to offer an 'explanation' is that readers are not challenged to question their previously-held beliefs, nor are they particularly enriched by the experience.

What motivates Zuma? What makes him so charming? What can the masses see that the chattering classes have overlooked? These are questions worth exploring. Unfortunately, Gordin only brushes the surface.

He has failed overwhelmingly to get past Zuma's enigmatic façade. By the time you're done reading the book, you know more about the Shaiks; you know more about 'Mac' Maharaj; you know more about Michael Hulley; you know more about the disproportionate importance that Gordin placed on Judge Nicholson's ruling; but you know very little more about Jacob Zuma.

In fact, the most valuable insight that you can extract from the 300-page book is that Jacob Zuma's most powerful weapon is not his political savvy, but rather his charm. Jeremy Gordin has, like so many others, been charmed by the man with the big easy laugh, warm handshake and eager ear.

"I like Zuma a great deal (if I didn't, there would be little point in writing this book), and my approach to him has always, I hope, been one of 'sympathy and understanding that is as free from denunciation as from apologetics."

I beg to differ. If liking an individual were a pre-requisite for writing, very little critical literature would exist on the tyrants of this world. Although commendable, Gordin's early recognition of his bias does not, unfortunately, lead to a more objective or self-reflective biography.