Despite the fact that the legacy media barely covered it, the book quietly sold over one million copies and sat on The New York Times’ bestseller list for 20 weeks.

What drew readers around the world to the book is precisely what repelled legacy media from it – the book dared to ask questions of the institutions and institutional figures, mainly Dr. Anthony Fauci (a physician and former Chief Medical Advisor to the President of the U.S.), that the corporate media refused to ask.

For decades, Dr. Fauci was the unflappable face of expertise—calm, avuncular, seemingly above politics. Kennedy, who prior to his position as HHS Secretary was an attorney and environmental activist, reframes Fauci not as a humble civil servant but as the central architect of a half-century of regulatory capture, scientific suppression, and profit-driven policy.

Part legal brief, part historical autopsy, and part cri de coeur for evidence-based medicine and open debate, the book demands to be read.

What emerges is a portrait of a technocrat who, in Kennedy’s telling, consistently placed pharmaceutical profits and institutional power above public health—long before Covid-thrust Fauci into every American living room.

The book opens with the pandemic that defined our era. Kennedy meticulously catalogs the early decisions: the dismissal of repurposed drugs like hydroxychloroquine and ivermectin, the promotion of remdesivir, the relentless focus on novel vaccines, and the sweeping lockdowns whose collateral damage—economic ruin, educational setbacks, mental health crises, and excess deaths from deferred care—would prove, in his view, more devastating than the virus itself for many populations.

In The Real Anthony Fauci, Kennedy contrasts the U.S. death rate with nations that pursued different strategies, marshaling data that will discomfort anyone who accepted the dominant narrative without question.

Yet the pandemic is merely one slice of the story Kennedy tells. He traces Fauci’s career arc from the AIDS era onward, arguing that the same patterns—suppression of dissenting scientists, elevation of expensive patented treatments over cheaper alternatives, ethical lapses in clinical trials (including disturbing accounts of experiments on vulnerable children), and deep financial entanglements with industry—repeat with incriminating regularity.

The HIV chapter is particularly harrowing, detailing what Kennedy calls a “template” for pharma profiteering: the rush to AZT despite its toxicity, the sidelining of alternative hypotheses, and the vilification of heretics. Kennedy is especially tough on the regulatory agencies (NIAID, CDC, FDA) that, his research suggests, have been hollowed out by the very industry they are meant to oversee.

What makes the book compelling is not just its litany of allegations but its grounding in regulatory capture—the “Pharmanation” Kennedy describes with cold precision. Fauci’s agency receives massive funding from industry user fees; NIH and its scientists earn royalties on products they help develop; career incentives align with blockbuster drugs rather than root-cause public health solutions. The chronic disease epidemic exploding under Fauci’s watch—autism, allergies, autoimmune disorders—receives sustained attention as a damning indictment of government priorities. While mainstream voices attribute these trends to better diagnosis or genetics, Kennedy demands environmental investigation and accountability that, he argues, never happened

Kennedy humanizes the stakes. The book’s dedication honors the “Heroic Healers Honor Roll”—doctors and scientists who challenged orthodoxy at great personal cost. Endorsements from figures as varied as Tucker Carlson, Tony Robbins, Alan Dershowitz, and Robert Malone give the project intellectual breadth, even as they underscore its heterodox appeal.

The writing is clear, blending legal rigor with moral passion. At times the accumulation of detail can feel overwhelming—but it needs to feel that way. This is a book meant to overwhelm (and alarm) the comforting simplicities peddled by legacy “news” and official pronouncements.

Some critics, those precious few who have read the book, have dismissed The Real Anthony Fauci as conspiracy-minded or partisan. That reflex misses the deeper service Kennedy performs.

In an era of elevated distrust of institutions, Kennedy’s work is a model of investigative journalism infused by moral outrage and palpable passion focused on ferreting out the truth and showing it to the world.

Science is not a priesthood; it is a method. When fear, money, and power distort that method—when debate is replaced by decrees, and dissent by deplatforming—democracy itself erodes. Kennedy shows how easily “public health” can become a vehicle for authoritarian impulses and concentrated wealth.

The upward wealth transfer during lockdowns, the censorship apparatus, the shattered small businesses and families: these are not side effects in Kennedy’s narrative but features of a system optimized for control and profiteering.

Whether one accepts every claim in the book or not, the book performs a vital civic function: it restores agency to citizens long conditioned to trust the ‘experts.’ It invites readers to examine primary sources, question what they’re being told to believe, and reclaim the spirit of skepticism.

In that sense, The Real Anthony Fauci is less about one man than about the fragility of democracy when its guardrails—independent science, free speech, accountability—are captured by the multinationals who own the media most Americans, and millions of people around the world, consume.

At nearly 500 pages plus endnotes, this is not light reading. But it is necessary reading — reading that will radically challenge the comfortable narratives we’ve all heard many too many times.

Finally, the book insists that public health serve people, not power. In an era desperate for accountability, The Real Anthony Fauci is an unflinching act of intellectual resistance in which ‘America’s Doctor’ meets his most formidable adversary: the documented record.

“Sean Spicer reveals how President Trump returned to office with a mission to drive permanent healthcare progress. Never before has a president and his team fought harder to make it cheaper and easier to be healthy in America.” —Dr. Mehmet Oz, Administrator, CMS

Regnery, a division of Skyhorse Publishing, this week published a new book by Sean Spicer, best known as President Donald Trump’s first press secretary.

The book, Trump 2.0: The Revolution That Will Permanently Transform America, explains a broad range of the president’s current policies, including securing the borders; trade & and tariffs; NATO; defense and intelligence; education; Doge; the Charlie Kirk assassination; and how to take back the media from the clutches of the progressive left.

For readers of The MAHA Report, the book’s Chapter 7, “The MAHA Policy Blueprint,” will be of particular interest. Spicer shrewdly explains how, with the help of Big Pharma, Robert F. Kennedy Jr., once the darling of the the left, became a prime target of the Big Pharma-funded left, right, and center.

Spicer presents MAHA as a revolutionary response to America’s chronic health crisis, blaming Big Pharma and Big Food for prioritizing profits over public well-being. He argues these industries lobby heavily to maintain harmful practices (e.g., unsafe additives, high drug prices), leading to obesity (41.6 percent of adults), chronic diseases (60-percent of Americans), and poor child health outcomes. Spicer sees Kennedy’s HHS role as central, framing him as disrupting the Big Pharma “cartel” to restore health through science and accountability.

More analysis than memoir, Spicer’s Trump 2.0 diligently explains the harmful influence of Big Pharma — spent $391M lobbying in 2024 (most of any sector); DTC ads mislead consumers, inflating prices (up to 4x higher than peers); examples like Purdue Pharma’s OxyContin fueled opioid deaths.

Similarly, Spicer lambasts Big Food’s role in harming our well-being — by pushing ultra-processed foods with dyes/additives (e.g., Red 40). He also recounts how the GRAS loophole allows untested ingredients that are part of why America has a 41% obesity rate, rising child allergies, and other chronic conditions.

Spicer praises Secretary Kennedy’s solutions and ‘wins’ through late 2025, including:

• Food Reforms: Phasing out petroleum dyes by 2026; companies (e.g., Nestlé, Hershey, General Mills) committing to remove dyes/additives; Nebraska soda ban in food stamps.

• Pharma Reforms: FDA crackdown on DTC ads; off-label drugs/Right to Try promoted; COVID vaccines removed from child/pregnant recommendations.

• Broader Agenda: MAHA Commission for research (e.g., chronic disease, vaccines); rural health investments; private sector shifts (e.g., Steak ‘n Shake to beef tallow).

Further, Spicer highlights major wins under Kennedy and Trump that he believes have lasting power:

• 35% of food industry pledged dye removal (e.g., PepsiCo, Tyson).

• Polls: Bipartisan support (53% conservatives, 35% very liberals positive on MAHA).

• Ties to MAGA: Aligns with border security (fentanyl), economy (tariffs on imports).

Finally, Spicer calls MAHA Trump’s "Manhattan Project" for health, led by Kennedy (HHS), Marty Makary (FDA), Mehmet Oz (Medicare) and Jay Bhattacharya (NIH).

With such a dream team, Spicer predicts enduring change [“The Revolution That Will Permanently Transform America,” as the book’s subtitle reads], for the public, he says, is coming to see the benefits of the accumulating MAHA ‘wins’ — lower obesity, better child health, and much more.

With Trump 2.0 , Spicer establishes himself as a savvy policy thinker of the highest order.

Written by Liana Werner-Gray and Cherie Calbom, two trusted voices in holistic health, the book cuts through decades of confusion and marketing hype to deliver clarity on one of the most overlooked culprits in modern chronic disease: industrial seed oils.

The book publishes April 30 from MAHA Books, a division of Skyhorse Publishing.

From the very first pages, the authors make a compelling case that what we’ve long been told is “heart-healthy” (canola, soybean, corn, sunflower, safflower, grapeseed, cottonseed, and rice bran oils—the so-called “Hateful Eight”) may be silently undermining our health.

Backed by historical context, biochemical explanations, and a growing body of research, Werner-Gray and Calbom argue that these highly processed, omega-6-rich oils promote oxidative stress, chronic inflammation, and metabolic dysfunction. The authors link such oils to rising rates of anxiety, depression, insulin resistance, obesity, heart disease, cognitive decline, and even certain cancers—not as fear-mongering, but as a call to informed action.

What makes this book especially powerful is its balanced tone. It doesn’t just criticize; it educates.

Chapter 1 dives into the “Seed Oil Scandal,” tracing how the eight oils rose to prominence – not through health science, but through wartime economics, aggressive marketing (think Procter & Gamble’s Crisco), and flawed studies like Ancel Keys’ lipid hypothesis. The authors highlight how subsidies, conflicts of interest (including early American Heart Association funding), and the demonization of traditional fats like butter, tallow, and coconut oil, created a perfect storm.

The authors also address the spiritual dimension—how disconnecting food from its natural, whole-food roots turns it into a commodity rather than a gift.

Chapter 2 explores the mechanisms by which seed oils may contribute to brain and body dysfunction. The brain is nearly 60% fat. The authors explain how excess linoleic acid from seed oils can crowd out protective omega-3s, promote neuroinflammation, damage mitochondria, disrupt neurotransmitters, and even compromise the blood-brain barrier. They connect these processes to anxiety, depression, Alzheimer’s risk, and more, while contrasting modern Western diets (often 15:1 or worse omega-6 to omega-3 ratios) with ancestral patterns. Real-world examples, such as the low dementia rates among the Tsimané people, reinforce the message: traditional, minimally processed fats align better with human biology.

The book doesn’t stop at problems—it offers clear, practical solutions. Chapter 3 serves as an excellent “fats and oils handbook,” comparing saturated, monounsaturated, and polyunsaturated fats, explaining smoke points, oxidation risks, and why quality matters. It debunks myths around cholesterol and saturated fat while celebrating stable, nourishing options like extra-virgin olive oil, avocado oil, coconut oil, grass-fed butter, ghee, and beef tallow. Individual fat tolerance is respected, with thoughtful disclaimers acknowledging bio-individuality.

Chapter 4 focuses on cooking, offering up over 50 delicious, blood-sugar-friendly, anti-inflammatory recipes featuring nature’s healthiest fats. From Liana’s OG 3-Hour Chicken Bone Broth Noodle Soup and Guacamole Greens Chicken Salad to Cherie’s classics like Cream of Carrot Soup and old-fashioned beef tallow cornbread, the recipes are approachable, flavorful, and nutrient-dense. They prove healthy eating doesn’t mean deprivation—meals can be indulgent and supportive of liver, mitochondria, hormones, and nervous system health. Highlights include golden anti-inflammatory rice bowls, pumpkin pancakes, and even treats like mini cashew cheesecakes and feather-light coconut macaroons.

Later in the book, the authors provide a valuable shopping guide: how to choose cold-pressed or expeller-pressed oils, read labels, avoid hidden seed oils in restaurants and packaged foods, and source high-quality animal fats. Resources like Seed Oil Scout (an app) and the Templeton List make real-world application easier than ever.

The Truth About Seed Oils has a hopeful, solution-oriented spirit. It’s not about fear—it’s about empowerment. Werner-Gray and Calbom remind us that simple swaps (ditching industrial oils for real, traditional fats) can reduce inflammation, stabilize energy and mood, support metabolic health, and potentially lower chronic disease risk.

This is a must-read for anyone serious about wellness, whether you’re dealing with inflammation, fatigue, brain fog, or simply want to eat more intentionally. It’s accessible for beginners yet substantive enough for those already familiar with ancestral or functional nutrition. The writing is warm, clear, and engaging, blending science, history, personal stories, and practical advice.

If you’ve ever felt confused by conflicting advice about fats—or suspected that the “vegetable oil” in your pantry might not be as benign as advertised—The Truth About Seed Oils will feel like a breath of fresh air. It challenges decades of dogma without dogma of its own, always circling back to biology, tradition, and listening to your body.

The Truth About Seed Oils, due out from Skyhorse on April 28, 2026, is currently available for pre-order. A portion of the proceeds from this and all subsequent books released by the Skyhorse MAHA Books imprint will be used to support initiatives by MAHA Action, tying the book to the broader movement for better public health policy.

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Moreover, Spicer gives us something more consequential than an insider’s memoir. He presents the president’s second term not as a sequel to the first but as a well planned historical pivot, arguing that the new Trump administration is locking in structural change designed to outlast any single presidency.

The foreword, written by President Trump, sets the book’s authoritative tone. Trump writes, “In everything we do, we are fighting for the law-abiding, hardworking people of our country. This is the essence of ‘Trump 2.0,’ and there are few people who understand it better than my friend and former White House Press Secretary Sean Spicer. Sean has been with us since the beginning. He played a central role in helping us defeat Crooked Hillary Clinton in 2016—and he has been a warrior for our cause ever since.

Continues President Trump, “If you want to understand the people, the policies, and the process of my second term in office, read this book.”

Early in his book, Spicer makes the point that, unlike every modern two-term White House, the second Trump administration benefited from four full years of deliberate and concentrated reflection outside of the White House. While Democrats celebrated what they hoped was the MAGA movement’s demise, Trump loyalists at the America First Policy Institute and the Heritage Foundation’s Project 2025 were quietly drafting policies and processes. The plan: when Trump returned to the White House the new administration could hit the ground running. .

The result, Spicer writes with evident pride, is an administration that arrived on January 20, 2025, ready to execute.

Spicer’s prose moves with the confidence of a seasoned communicator who has spent years distilling complex issues for the press and the public. Chapters on border security, trade fairness, NATO burden-sharing, smarter defense, and the Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) include a wealth of data presented in an easy-to-understand format.

Spicer also goes after Biden-era policies that didn’t work – open borders, stagnant growth, eroded deterrence—comparing them with early triumphs during Trump 2.0.

According to Spicer, under Trump 2.0 border crossings have decreased from thousands per day to zero for months – and there has been record investment flooding into the country.

What emerges is less partisan triumphalism than lucid case study of how strategic patience and personnel discipline can convert campaign promises into governing reality.

For advocates of the Make America Healthy Again (MAHA) movement, Chapter 7—“The MAHA Policy Blueprint”—will feel like the book’s quiet masterstroke.

Spicer devotes sustained, respectful attention to Robert F. Kennedy Jr.’s role as Secretary of Health and Human Services, framing MAHA not as a niche cause but as a foundational pillar of national renewal. He articulates the movement’s ambitions with clarity: to confront America’s chronic-disease epidemic by challenging the iron grip of Big Food and Big Pharma, demanding transparency on vaccines and ultra-processed foods, and shifting federal policy toward prevention, wellness, and personal freedom rather than on what Kennedy ridicules as “sick care.”

MAHA advocates will particularly appreciate how Spicer weaves the movement’s priorities into the broader America First vision, demonstrating that restoring physical and mental health is inseparable from restoring economic vitality, cultural confidence, and sovereign strength.

In an era when public health has too often been politicized or corporatized, Spicer treats MAHA with the seriousness it deserves—as a bold, evidence-driven corrective that belongs at the center of conservative governance.

Throughout his book, Spicer maintains a tone of measured optimism. He candidly acknowledges the first term’s frustrations—internal resistance, relentless investigations, bureaucratic inertia—while celebrating the second term’s structural advantages: pre-vetted loyalists, battle-tested senior staff, and a four-year policy incubation that allowed genuine depth.

The afterword from Vice President JD Vance and Spencer’s concluding reflections reinforce the central thesis: Trump 2.0 is built to endure.

Trump 2.0 is, in the end, a hopeful book written by a master communicator who still believes ideas matter. Spicer makes a persuasive case that the changes underway—on borders, trade, education, government efficiency, and public health—are not fleeting corrections but the foundation of a new political era.

Whether one embraces that vision or approaches it with skepticism, the book offers a lucid, insider’s take into how the second Trump administration is remaking America.

For anyone who has followed Spicer’s journey from the White House briefing room to podcast host and author, this volume marks his most interesting work to date. It is essential reading for those who want to understand the ambitions, early achievements, and long-term aspirations of the second Trump presidency.

Spicer’s measured conviction that America’s best days lie ahead of us feels both ambitious and refreshing.

Trump 2.0: The Revolution That Will Permanently Transform America is due out on April 28, 2026 from Regnery but is available now for pre-order.

“Even as a trained lung surgeon, I find cases like young Shira Boehler’s shocking. Her riveting story should be grasped by all.” —Dr. Mehmet Oz, Administrator, CMS

Shira Boehler’s new book, One Scan Saved My Life: How One Woman’s Story Will Change How We Detect Lung Cancer (which publishes today, April 28), is not merely a survivor’s memoir; it is a clarion call, urgent and unflinching, that dismantles the stubborn myths surrounding the deadliest cancer in America. Lung cancer kills nearly 125,000 people annually—more than breast, pancreatic, and ovarian cancers combined—yet it remains mired in stigma, outdated guidelines, and dangerously low screening rates.

Boehler was doing everything right. A devoted mother of four, an avid runner who logged six hilly miles the morning her world tilted, a nonsmoker who ate well and stayed active—she embodied the kind of disciplined wellness that should, by all conventional wisdom, keep deadly diseases at bay.

Yet on a Monday in September 2025, she sat in an exam room hearing the words no one expects or wants to hear at forty-three — or any age: ‘You have lung cancer.’

Boehler’s story, told with candor, wit, and the precision of someone who has spent her career in health-care tech and finance, exposes how a disease long dismissed as a “smoker’s problem” is quietly claiming a new demographic: younger women, many of whom have never touched a cigarette.

The book’s premise is simple and unsettling. During a preventive full-body MRI encouraged by her husband (over her objections), a “non-urgent” spot appeared in Boehler’s right lung. Skeptical, she followed up with a low-dose CT scan recommended by her radiologist friend and her pulmonologist father. What followed was a swift diagnosis of stage I adenocarcinoma—an aggressive tumor caught before it could metastasize. Surgery removed it cleanly. Margins clear, lymph nodes negative.

Boehler walked away not just alive, but with a mission.

What makes Boehler’s book so compelling is its refusal to settle for personal triumph. Boehler weaves her journey—MRIs, Saturday-night calls from her radiologist, the surreal laughter of her children upon hearing the news, the agony of a chest tube, the slow reclaiming of her body—with clear-eyed explorations of the science, policy, and human cost of lung cancer. She dismantles the smoker’s-disease trope with data and lived experience: 25 percent of cases occur in never-smokers. Rates are rising among women under fifty. Asian American never-smoking women face disproportionately high risk. Family history, secondhand smoke, and emerging genetic factors like EGFR mutations, all play roles that current guidelines.

The foreword by Anne and Janet Wojcicki adds poignant weight. Their sister Susan died of stage IV lung cancer at fifty-four, a never-smoker whose meticulous screenings for breast and colorectal cancers never extended to her lungs. The contrast is heartbreaking and instructive: early detection turned Boehler’s story into one of survival and advocacy; late detection turned Susan’s into a devastating loss.

Boehler does not shy from the complexities. She acknowledges the modest radiation risk of low-dose CTs, the challenge of incidental findings, and the real barriers—access, cost, awareness, and physician hesitation—that keep screening uptake shockingly low even among those who qualify (often just 2 to 6 percent in eligible high-risk groups).

In her book, Boehler interviews survivors, surgeons, researchers, and advocates, including voices from the White Ribbon Project, and dives into innovations on the horizon: AI-assisted radiology, radiomics, liquid biopsies, multi-cancer detection tests, and precision approaches targeting biomarkers. Yet she returns, again and again, to the simplest, most evidence-based intervention: expanding access to scans that can find cancer before symptoms appear, when surgery alone can be curative.

Written in crisp, conversational prose that never sacrifices depth for readability, the book balances memoir with manifesto. Chapters on the respiratory system, staging, nonsurgical treatments, and the barriers to broader screening are informative without overwhelming. Personal details—the Little Mermaid soundtrack sung inside the MRI tube, the Yom Kippur break-fast turned impromptu support gathering, the nerve pain and full-body rash of recovery—keep the narrative grounded in one woman’s vivid, relatable humanity.

Critics might note that Boehler’s privileged position—access to out-of-pocket scans, a strong support network, top-tier care at Vanderbilt—makes her outcome aspirational rather than universal. She addresses this head-on, arguing that no one should need wealth or insider knowledge to receive lifesaving screening. Her dedication to policy change, including calls for revised USPSTF guidelines that better account for never-smokers, family history, sex differences, and younger patients, feels both pragmatic and morally astute.

In an era when cynicism about health-care reform runs deep, One Scan Saved My Life stands as a hopeful, data-driven argument that we already have the tools capable of transforming lung cancer from a near-certain killer into a manageable condition for far more people. Boehler’s voice—warm, determined, occasionally humorous—never preaches; it persuades. She reminds us that the most powerful advocacy often begins with one person refusing to accept the status quo.

This is essential reading for patients, families, physicians, and policymakers alike. It will make you question why we screen so aggressively for some cancers while leaving others to chance. More importantly, it may save lives—perhaps even your own or someone you love—by prompting a single, simple question: Have I had that scan?

One scan saved Shira Boehler’s life. With courage and clarity, her book argues that a single scan can save many more lives.

The book does far more than catalog threats to speech and press freedoms: It reframes them as symptoms of a deeper cultural erosion that’s endangering America, the democratic experiment, as it barrels toward its 250th anniversary.

Brotman, the first Digital Media Laureate at The Media Institute, is one of our country’s leading experts on today’s free speech landscape. He’s taught at Harvard, Tufts and elsewhere, and has contributed to landmark Supreme Court cases. In Free Expression Under Fire he translates complex legal doctrine into prose that is at once accessible and profound.

But for Brotman, legal victories alone are insufficient: Sustaining liberty requires rebuilding a durable culture of free expression—one that prizes open debate, dissent, and rigorous reporting. In an era of cancel culture, this is perhaps the book’s most timely contribution, with chapters on navigating free speech on college campuses, on the Internet, and in legacy and new forms of journalism.

What elevates Brotman’s analysis is his consistent even-handedness. He draws examples from across the ideological spectrum: conservative speakers shouted down on progressive campuses; progressive journalists facing retaliatory investigations; and tech platforms caught in the crossfire of competing demands for both more and less moderation.

Brotman also connects historical lessons to present challenges. He revisits the Pentagon Papers, not as dusty history but as a living precedent that illuminates today’s battles over classified information leaks. He writes about campus speech policies that often backfire spectacularly, breeding resentment and intellectual conformity rather than genuine inclusion. Social media giants, meanwhile, navigate an impossible thicket of legal ambiguity, public pressure, and commercial incentives—decisions that Brotman dissects with the clarity of someone who has been in the ring, who has advised on these very dilemmas.

Brotman acknowledges that power and violence have long overshadowed speech, but he refuses to surrender to cynicism, instead recruiting “free expression warriors” across political divides to defend the things that make self-government possible. And Brotman notes: Defending speech for those we disagree with is not weakness but the ultimate test of democratic maturity.

Critics may quibble that Brotman underplays certain contemporary flashpoints or that his optimism about cultural renewal feels aspirational at a time of deepening polarization. Yet such objections miss the book’s larger purpose. It is not a policy blueprint for any single faction but a mirror held up to the nation, urging reflection at a pivotal historical moment. By refusing to score cheap partisan points, Brotman models the very ethos he seeks to restore: rigorous argument pursued in good faith.

Free Expression Under Fire should be read by every college student facing speech codes and social pressures, every journalist confronting institutional or governmental scrutiny, every policymaker tempted to regulate platforms “for the greater good,” and every citizen—left, right, or center—who senses that something vital in our public square is slipping away.

The book belongs in classrooms, newsrooms, boardrooms, and living rooms alike. In a fractured republic, Free Expression Under Fire does more than warn: it ignites a unifying call to arms. Protect the words that sustain our democracy, or watch the republic that depends on them fade into silence.

Free Expression Under Fire: Defending Free Speech and Free Press Across the Political Spectrum, by Stuart N. Brotman with an introduction by Greg Lukianoff, president of the Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression, is available in paperback and as an audiobook.

What began as a desperate attempt to save his 83-year-old mother-in-law from terminal metastatic breast cancer has evolved into a meticulously researched exposé that challenges everything we think we know about cancer treatment—and reveals what may be one of the most effective therapies hiding in plain sight.

The premise sounds almost absurd: an over-the-counter veterinary deworming medicine called fenbendazole, commonly used to treat parasites in dogs and farm animals, is a remarkably effective cancer treatment. Yet Supple, a neuroscientist by training, who earned his doctorate from Dartmouth, builds his case with the methodical precision of both a researcher and someone who has witnessed the seemingly impossible.

Supple’s mother-in-law, given weeks to live with cancer that had spread throughout her body, experienced complete remission after taking fenbendazole mixed into her morning yogurt. She remains cancer-free, four years later.

What makes Cancer Is a Parasite extraordinary is not just its central claim, but also the depth of evidence Supple marshals to support it. Drawing on decades of peer-reviewed research from institutions like Johns Hopkins and MD Anderson Cancer Center, he demonstrates that fenbendazole’s cancer-fighting properties have been documented in scientific literature for years, yet somehow remained outside mainstream oncology. The drug works through multiple mechanisms simultaneously—disrupting cancer cells’ internal structure, starving them of glucose, cutting off their blood supply, and reactivating the body’s own tumor-suppression systems—while leaving healthy cells entirely unharmed.

Perhaps most disturbing is Supple’s revelation that this knowledge isn’t new. Through painstaking detective work, he uncovers evidence that a fenbendazole-based cancer drug was actually discovered and named “oncodazole” in 1976, only to be mysteriously suppressed and have its name changed to obscure its cancer-fighting purpose.

The implications are staggering: if accurate, this represents a cover-up that may have cost millions of lives over the past five decades.

The book’s most compelling section presents over twenty detailed case reports of individuals who, after exhausting conventional treatments, took matters into their own hands and achieved remarkable recoveries using fenbendazole. These aren’t vague testimonials but detailed accounts of people with advanced brain tumors, aggressive breast cancers, and metastatic melanomas who achieved complete remission—many of whom had been sent home to die after standard treatments failed. The consistency of these outcomes across diverse cancer types is striking.

Supple’s analysis extends beyond individual cases to reveal global patterns that are difficult to dismiss. He demonstrates that countries implementing mass deworming programs, using drugs similar to fenbendazole, have cancer rates approximately half those of wealthy nations that don’t use such programs. The United States, with its advanced healthcare system and high costs, has triple the incidence of cancer found in countries such as India and Mexico – countries that routinely deworm their populations as part of public health policy.

The author’s background as a neuroscientist lends credibility to his ability to synthesize complex biochemical research, while his personal stake in the outcome—having lost both parents to cancer—infuses the work with passion and urgency. His writing is clear and accessible, making sophisticated scientific concepts understandable to general readers without dumbing down the material.

But the book’s greatest strength lies in its synthesis of existing scientific evidence into a coherent, actionable framework. Supple doesn’t ask readers to take his word for anything; instead, he meticulously cites hundreds of peer-reviewed studies and provides clear reasoning for every conclusion. The biological mechanisms he describes are well-established in scientific literature. Supple’s contribution is connecting the dots between parasitology and oncology in a way that reveals previously hidden patterns.

The implications are profound.

If fenbendazole proves as effective as Supple’s evidence suggests, it could transform cancer from a terrifying death sentence into a manageable condition—safely, inexpensively, and without the devastating side effects of current treatments. The drug costs pennies per dose and is available over-the-counter at farm supply stores, potentially democratizing cancer treatment in a way that pharmaceutical patents never could – or would.

Whether Supple’s most provocative claims about suppressed knowledge prove accurate or not, his central message is impossible to ignore—we may already have a safe, effective cancer treatment that deserves immediate, serious investigation by the medical establishment.

For the millions of people facing a cancer diagnosis, this book offers something precious and increasingly rare in oncology: hope backed by solid science. It deserves to be read by patients, caregivers, and physicians alike.

Cancer Is a Parasite is that rarest of books: one that could fundamentally alter how we approach one of humanity’s greatest scourges.

Please note: A portion of the proceeds from MAHA Books helps fund the work of MAHA Action, Inc.

Co-authored by two trusted voices in holistic health—Liana Werner-Gray, a functional nutritionist and cancer survivor, and Cherie Calbom (a renowned “Juice Lady”), a clinical nutritionist with decades of experience—this book cuts through decades of confusion and marketing hype to deliver clarity on one of the most overlooked culprits in modern chronic disease: industrial seed oils.

From the very first pages, the authors make a compelling case that what we’ve long been told is “heart-healthy” (canola, soybean, corn, sunflower, safflower, grapeseed, cottonseed, and rice bran oils—the so-called “Hateful Eight”) may be silently undermining our health.

Backed by historical context, biochemical explanations, and a growing body of research, Werner-Gray and Calbom argue that these highly processed, omega-6-rich oils promote oxidative stress, chronic inflammation, and metabolic dysfunction. The authors link such oils to rising rates of anxiety, depression, insulin resistance, obesity, heart disease, cognitive decline, and even certain cancers—not as fear-mongering, but as a call to informed action.

What makes this book especially powerful is its balanced tone. It doesn’t just criticize; it educates.

Chapter 1 dives into the “Seed Oil Scandal,” tracing how the eight oils rose to prominence – not through health science, but through wartime economics, aggressive marketing (think Procter & Gamble’s Crisco), and flawed studies like Ancel Keys’ lipid hypothesis. The authors highlight how subsidies, conflicts of interest (including early American Heart Association funding), and the demonization of traditional fats like butter, tallow, and coconut oil, created a perfect storm.

The authors also address the spiritual dimension—how disconnecting food from its natural, whole-food roots turns it into a commodity rather than a gift.

Chapter 2 explores the mechanisms by which seed oils may contribute to brain and body dysfunction. The brain is nearly 60% fat. The authors explain how excess linoleic acid from seed oils can crowd out protective omega-3s, promote neuroinflammation, damage mitochondria, disrupt neurotransmitters, and even compromise the blood-brain barrier. They connect these processes to anxiety, depression, Alzheimer’s risk, and more, while contrasting modern Western diets (often 15:1 or worse omega-6 to omega-3 ratios) with ancestral patterns. Real-world examples, such as the low dementia rates among the Tsimané people, reinforce the message: traditional, minimally processed fats align better with human biology.

The book doesn’t stop at problems—it offers clear, practical solutions. Chapter 3 serves as an excellent “fats and oils handbook,” comparing saturated, monounsaturated, and polyunsaturated fats, explaining smoke points, oxidation risks, and why quality matters. It debunks myths around cholesterol and saturated fat while celebrating stable, nourishing options like extra-virgin olive oil, avocado oil, coconut oil, grass-fed butter, ghee, and beef tallow. Individual fat tolerance is respected, with thoughtful disclaimers acknowledging bio-individuality.

Chapter 4 focuses on cooking, offering up over 50 delicious, blood-sugar-friendly, anti-inflammatory recipes featuring nature’s healthiest fats. From Liana’s OG 3-Hour Chicken Bone Broth Noodle Soup and Guacamole Greens Chicken Salad to Cherie’s classics like Cream of Carrot Soup and old-fashioned beef tallow cornbread, the recipes are approachable, flavorful, and nutrient-dense. They prove healthy eating doesn’t mean deprivation—meals can be indulgent and supportive of liver, mitochondria, hormones, and nervous system health. Highlights include golden anti-inflammatory rice bowls, pumpkin pancakes, and even treats like mini cashew cheesecakes and feather-light coconut macaroons.

Later in the book, the authors provide a valuable shopping guide: how to choose cold-pressed or expeller-pressed oils, read labels, avoid hidden seed oils in restaurants and packaged foods, and source high-quality animal fats. Resources like Seed Oil Scout (an app) and the Templeton List make real-world application easier than ever.

The Truth About Seed Oils has a hopeful, solution-oriented spirit. It’s not about fear—it’s about empowerment. Werner-Gray and Calbom remind us that simple swaps (ditching industrial oils for real, traditional fats) can reduce inflammation, stabilize energy and mood, support metabolic health, and potentially lower chronic disease risk.

This is a must-read for anyone serious about wellness, whether you’re dealing with inflammation, fatigue, brain fog, or simply want to eat more intentionally. It’s accessible for beginners yet substantive enough for those already familiar with ancestral or functional nutrition. The writing is warm, clear, and engaging, blending science, history, personal stories, and practical advice.

If you’ve ever felt confused by conflicting advice about fats—or suspected that the “vegetable oil” in your pantry might not be as benign as advertised—The Truth About Seed Oils will feel like a breath of fresh air. It challenges decades of dogma without dogma of its own, always circling back to biology, tradition, and listening to your body.

The Truth About Seed Oils, due out from Skyhorse on April 28, 2026, is currently available for pre-order. A portion of the proceeds from this and all subsequent books released by the Skyhorse MAHA Books imprint will be used to support initiatives by MAHA Action, tying the book to the broader movement for better public health policy.

Additional Reading:

Moreover, Spicer gives us something more consequential than an insider’s memoir. He presents the president’s second term not as a sequel to the first but as a well planned historical pivot, arguing that the new Trump administration is locking in structural change designed to outlast any single presidency.

The foreword, written by President Trump, sets the book’s authoritative tone. Trump writes, “In everything we do, we are fighting for the law-abiding, hardworking people of our country. This is the essence of ‘Trump 2.0,’ and there are few people who understand it better than my friend and former White House Press Secretary Sean Spicer. Sean has been with us since the beginning. He played a central role in helping us defeat Crooked Hillary Clinton in 2016—and he has been a warrior for our cause ever since.

Continues President Trump, “If you want to understand the people, the policies, and the process of my second term in office, read this book.”

Early in his book, Spicer makes the point that, unlike every modern two-term White House, the second Trump administration benefited from four full years of deliberate and concentrated reflection outside of the White House. While Democrats celebrated what they hoped was the MAGA movement’s demise, Trump loyalists at the America First Policy Institute and the Heritage Foundation’s Project 2025 were quietly drafting policies and processes. The plan: when Trump returned to the White House the new administration could hit the ground running. .

The result, Spicer writes with evident pride, is an administration that arrived on January 20, 2025, ready to execute.

Spicer’s prose moves with the confidence of a seasoned communicator who has spent years distilling complex issues for the press and the public. Chapters on border security, trade fairness, NATO burden-sharing, smarter defense, and the Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) include a wealth of data presented in an easy-to-understand format.

Spicer also goes after Biden-era policies that didn’t work – open borders, stagnant growth, eroded deterrence—comparing them with early triumphs during Trump 2.0.

According to Spicer, under Trump 2.0 border crossings have decreased from thousands per day to zero for months – and there has been record investment flooding into the country.

What emerges is less partisan triumphalism than lucid case study of how strategic patience and personnel discipline can convert campaign promises into governing reality.

For advocates of the Make America Healthy Again (MAHA) movement, Chapter 7—“The MAHA Policy Blueprint”—will feel like the book’s quiet masterstroke.

Spicer devotes sustained, respectful attention to Robert F. Kennedy Jr.’s role as Secretary of Health and Human Services, framing MAHA not as a niche cause but as a foundational pillar of national renewal. He articulates the movement’s ambitions with clarity: to confront America’s chronic-disease epidemic by challenging the iron grip of Big Food and Big Pharma, demanding transparency on vaccines and ultra-processed foods, and shifting federal policy toward prevention, wellness, and personal freedom rather than on what Kennedy ridicules as “sick care.”

MAHA advocates will particularly appreciate how Spicer weaves the movement’s priorities into the broader America First vision, demonstrating that restoring physical and mental health is inseparable from restoring economic vitality, cultural confidence, and sovereign strength.

In an era when public health has too often been politicized or corporatized, Spicer treats MAHA with the seriousness it deserves—as a bold, evidence-driven corrective that belongs at the center of conservative governance.

Throughout his book, Spicer maintains a tone of measured optimism. He candidly acknowledges the first term’s frustrations—internal resistance, relentless investigations, bureaucratic inertia—while celebrating the second term’s structural advantages: pre-vetted loyalists, battle-tested senior staff, and a four-year policy incubation that allowed genuine depth.

The afterword from Vice President JD Vance and Spencer’s concluding reflections reinforce the central thesis: Trump 2.0 is built to endure.

Trump 2.0 is, in the end, a hopeful book written by a master communicator who still believes ideas matter. Spicer makes a persuasive case that the changes underway—on borders, trade, education, government efficiency, and public health—are not fleeting corrections but the foundation of a new political era.

Whether one embraces that vision or approaches it with skepticism, the book offers a lucid, insider’s take into how the second Trump administration is remaking America.

For anyone who has followed Spicer’s journey from the White House briefing room to podcast host and author, this volume marks his most interesting work to date. It is essential reading for those who want to understand the ambitions, early achievements, and long-term aspirations of the second Trump presidency.

Spicer’s measured conviction that America’s best days lie ahead of us feels both ambitious and refreshing.

Trump 2.0: The Revolution That Will Permanently Transform America is due out on April 28, 2026 from Regnery but is available now for pre-order.

Russell Brand’s public life has been a whirlwind of cultural provocation, addiction recovery and conspiracy-tinged commentary. But in the spring of 2024, the English comedian announced he’d been baptized in the Thames River and had become a believer in Christ.

In the pages of his new book, How to Become a Christian in Seven days (due out in May and currently available for pre-order), Brand tells how that conversion happened. It wasn’t actually seven days, he writes: It happened, rather, in an instant – an instant that changed everything.

The book begins with a raw and disarmingly humble testimony.

“I’ve spent, indeed it’s hard not to say ‘wasted,’ my whole life trying to prize love from a loveless world on the basis of personal merits that I do not, and could not, possess,” he writes in the opening pages. “Newly, and with a rawness that still hurts, that Love is now mine, and if one so hopeless as I can be the recipient of such Grace, then you can too.”

From there, the book moves into a practical seven-day framework that blends 12-step wisdom, reflections on Bible passages and unflinching honesty.

Brand writes with the same deeply honest and electric prose that have made him so compelling as a presenter, columnist, comedian and YouTube host, where he has over six million followers.

He’s erudite without being pretentious, poetic and sometimes profane (toned down in this book but not erased). Sentences crackle. Metaphors land like perfectly timed jokes. He moves effortlessly between Carl Jung, cosmological musings (entropy, negentropy, the limits of materialism), quantum-adjacent reflections on infinity and gut-punch personal stories of addiction, fame’s hollow excesses, and the moment the cross appeared to him while walking his German Shepherd, Bear, by the Thames.

The dedication says it all: “To Bear, my dog. And to Jesus Christ, my God. Both Shepherds.” From there, Brand frames his conversion not as a tidy seven-day sprint but as a figurative journey toward completeness (the biblical resonance of “seven”), rooted in the recognition that real change often arrives in an instant of grace after years of wandering. He’s clear: this book is no substitute for the Bible itself. His job, he writes, is to use his messy experience to point others toward Christ.

Structurally, the book mirrors the creation account in Genesis while overlaying the 12 Steps of recovery. Each “day” tackles a theme—Day 1: Honesty (admitting brokenness and powerlessness); Day 2: Hope (spiritual thirst and the reality of evil in the world); Day 3: Faith (surrender and turning toward dry land); Day 4: Courage & Integrity (moral inventory and sacred time); and so on, culminating in perseverance, spirituality, and service. Interwoven are Brand’s testimony fragments: the hedonistic highs of fame (sex, drugs, applause as false worship), the crashing lows (allegations, family crises, the dread of a child’s serious heart condition, suicidal shadows), and the quiet, theophanic breakthrough where self-will finally cracks and Christ steps in.

The book is unapologetically positive, in the context of unflinching realism. Brand doesn’t sugarcoat the darkness: He names the “prince of this world,” cultural idolatry, the counterfeit promises of secularism, Hollywood’s “sick liturgy of self,” and the spiritual warfare that underlies addiction, power, and despair. He draws on Ephesians 6:12, Jung’s insights on evil as an organized intelligence, and his own hard-won recovery wisdom to argue that the world’s patterns are a kind of addiction from which we need deliverance. Pain is soil for growth. Setbacks come paired with humor, insight, and the radical claim that hope isn’t naive—it’s revolutionary. Grace is received by the broken, the hopeless, the formerly self-worshipping.

The characters in Brand’s story feel vividly human: the eccentric friends, the loyal dog Bear (a recurring shepherd motif), the wife and children navigating crisis, the veterans and prophets he encounters in unexpected places like a D.C. charity event. Brand’s supporting cast—including figures like Rick Warren clips, 12-step mentors, and biblical giants like David, Moses, Joseph, and Paul—illustrates that transformation is repeatable, not rare. His own “old self” (the fame-chasing, pleasure-seeking, conspiracy-curious provocateur) dies so a new one can be born.

Intellectually, the book is much richer than might be expected. Brand weaves together cosmology, philosophy (Meister Eckhart, Chesterton, Lewis), science (Heisenberg’s quip about God at the bottom of the glass), and cultural critique (Harari, globalism as satanic counterfeit, the limits of reason) into a coherent case for why materialism leaves a “God-shaped void.” He’s especially sharp on how addiction—whether to substances, sex, fame, or self—is a misguided quest for the divine encounter we’re wired for. The exercises (mirroring The Artist’s Way or 12-step inventories) are actionable: honest lists of pain points, moral inventories using the seven aspects of self (pride, self-esteem, relationships, etc.), breathwork suggestions, prayers of surrender. They invite participation, not passive reading.

What stands out most is the warmth and accessibility. Brand addresses skeptics, the burned, the “too clever” or “too broken,” the atheists, the culturally Christian, and the already-convinced with equal gentleness and fire. He knows the church’s cultural baggage and meets readers in that shared disillusionment.

“I didn’t want to be a Christian,” he admits, yet here he is, reading Acts, finding peace that “passeth all understanding.”

This isn’t flawless theology or airtight apologetics (Brand is a new Christian, still wrestling, still learning—he says as much). It’s testimony: messy, vivid, funny, profound. It re-mystifies Christ. It treats the supernatural with appropriate awe—“through a glass darkly,” as Saint Paul says—while grounding it in everyday surrender, community, and service. In an age of grim nihilism, curated despair, and self-deification, Brand’s book dares to proclaim that life can be hard, the world can feel ruled by dark powers, and yet beauty, forgiveness, and new creation break through. Hope is radical. Love wins because it already has on the cross.

By the end, you’re left energized, not exhausted—ready to pick up the Bible, pray honestly, inventory your own life, and step into whatever “Day One” looks like for you. Whether it takes seven literal days, seven years, or an instant of grace, Brand’s message is clear: you’re not joining a religion so much as coming home to the One who loves you beyond merit, beyond failure, beyond the world’s hollow offers.

If you’re weary of our popular culture or hungry for something real amid the noise, this book could change your life. It won’t do the work for you—only Christ can—but it lights the path with humor, honesty, and hard-won hope. Russell Brand, the bad boy British provocateur, has found the Shepherd. And he’s joyfully, imperfectly, inviting the rest of us to follow.

Read the book. Then read the Bible. Then watch what happens when you say, with Brand, “Lord, if You’re real, help me put aside my preconceptions… I cannot do this alone anymore.”

Other book reviews:

Shira Boehler was doing everything right. A devoted mother of four, an avid runner who logged six hilly miles the morning her world tilted, a nonsmoker who ate well and stayed active—she embodied the kind of disciplined wellness that should, by all conventional wisdom, keep deadly diseases at bay.

Yet on a Monday in September 2025, she sat in an exam room hearing the words no one expects or wants to hear at forty-three — or any age: ‘You have lung cancer.’

One Scan Saved My Life: How One Woman’s Story Will Change How We Detect Lung Cancer (to be published on April 28) is not merely a survivor’s memoir; it is a clarion call, urgent and unflinching, that dismantles the stubborn myths surrounding the deadliest cancer in America. Lung cancer kills nearly 125,000 people annually—more than breast, pancreatic, and ovarian cancers combined—yet it remains mired in stigma, outdated guidelines, and dangerously low screening rates.

Boehler’s story, told with candor, wit, and the precision of someone who has spent her career in health-care tech and finance, exposes how a disease long dismissed as a “smoker’s problem” is quietly claiming a new demographic: younger women, many of whom have never touched a cigarette.

The book’s premise is simple and unsettling. During a preventive full-body MRI encouraged by her husband (over her objections), a “non-urgent” spot appeared in Boehler’s right lung. Skeptical, she followed up with a low-dose CT scan recommended by her radiologist friend and her pulmonologist father. What followed was a swift diagnosis of stage I adenocarcinoma—an aggressive tumor caught before it could metastasize. Surgery removed it cleanly. Margins clear, lymph nodes negative.

Boehler walked away not just alive, but with a mission.

What makes Boehler’s book so compelling is its refusal to settle for personal triumph. Boehler weaves her journey—MRIs, Saturday-night calls from her radiologist, the surreal laughter of her children upon hearing the news, the agony of a chest tube, the slow reclaiming of her body—with clear-eyed explorations of the science, policy, and human cost of lung cancer. She dismantles the smoker’s-disease trope with data and lived experience: 25 percent of cases occur in never-smokers. Rates are rising among women under fifty. Asian American never-smoking women face disproportionately high risk. Family history, secondhand smoke, and emerging genetic factors like EGFR mutations, all play roles that current guidelines.

The foreword by Anne and Janet Wojcicki adds poignant weight. Their sister Susan died of stage IV lung cancer at fifty-four, a never-smoker whose meticulous screenings for breast and colorectal cancers never extended to her lungs. The contrast is heartbreaking and instructive: early detection turned Boehler’s story into one of survival and advocacy; late detection turned Susan’s into a devastating loss.

Boehler does not shy from the complexities. She acknowledges the modest radiation risk of low-dose CTs, the challenge of incidental findings, and the real barriers—access, cost, awareness, and physician hesitation—that keep screening uptake shockingly low even among those who qualify (often just 2 to 6 percent in eligible high-risk groups).

In her book, Boehler interviews survivors, surgeons, researchers, and advocates, including voices from the White Ribbon Project, and dives into innovations on the horizon: AI-assisted radiology, radiomics, liquid biopsies, multi-cancer detection tests, and precision approaches targeting biomarkers. Yet she returns, again and again, to the simplest, most evidence-based intervention: expanding access to scans that can find cancer before symptoms appear, when surgery alone can be curative.

Written in crisp, conversational prose that never sacrifices depth for readability, the book balances memoir with manifesto. Chapters on the respiratory system, staging, nonsurgical treatments, and the barriers to broader screening are informative without overwhelming. Personal details—the Little Mermaid soundtrack sung inside the MRI tube, the Yom Kippur break-fast turned impromptu support gathering, the nerve pain and full-body rash of recovery—keep the narrative grounded in one woman’s vivid, relatable humanity.

Critics might note that Boehler’s privileged position—access to out-of-pocket scans, a strong support network, top-tier care at Vanderbilt—makes her outcome aspirational rather than universal. She addresses this head-on, arguing that no one should need wealth or insider knowledge to receive lifesaving screening. Her dedication to policy change, including calls for revised USPSTF guidelines that better account for never-smokers, family history, sex differences, and younger patients, feels both pragmatic and morally astute.

In an era when cynicism about health-care reform runs deep, One Scan Saved My Life stands as a hopeful, data-driven argument that we already have the tools capable of transforming lung cancer from a near-certain killer into a manageable condition for far more people. Boehler’s voice—warm, determined, occasionally humorous—never preaches; it persuades. She reminds us that the most powerful advocacy often begins with one person refusing to accept the status quo.

This is essential reading for patients, families, physicians, and policymakers alike. It will make you question why we screen so aggressively for some cancers while leaving others to chance. More importantly, it may save lives—perhaps even your own or someone you love—by prompting a single, simple question: Have I had that scan?

One scan saved Shira Boehler’s life. With courage and clarity, her book argues that a single scan can save many more lives.