Blood Feud

Have you ever watched two people who need each other but can barely stand each other? In Blood Feud, Edward Klein argues that behind the polished smiles and staged handshakes of American politics lies a bitter, personal war between two of its most powerful families: the Clintons and the Obamas. This isn’t a simple partisan dispute; it’s a clash of ambition, ego, and ideology that shaped an entire era of Democratic politics.

Klein contends that what looks like party unity is, in fact, a tense and sometimes deceitful cold war fought behind closed doors. On one side, Bill and Hillary Clinton—political survivors who see power as a product of deal-making and personal loyalty. On the other, Barack and Michelle Obama—idealists turned insiders, determined to keep control of their political legacy. Their alliances and betrayals, Klein argues, reveal how deeply personal dynamics can decide the fate of nations.

The Origins of Distrust

According to Klein, the hostility began during the Democratic primary of 2008. The Clintons believed the presidency was rightfully Hillary’s; Obama’s rise disrupted their carefully plotted path. The Obama camp, led by strategist David Plouffe and confidante Valerie Jarrett, saw Bill Clinton’s dominance as both an asset and a threat. The Clintons, meanwhile, saw Obama as an arrogant upstart who mocked their legacy while using it to gain credibility. Personal resentment merged with political rivalry—an emotional equation that would influence nearly every major decision both families made in the following decade.

Two Worlds Collide

Klein paints vivid portraits of both camps. The Obamas, he says, combined Chicago-style politics with moral superiority. Michelle Obama and Valerie Jarrett formed an inseparable duo, acting as both protectors and enforcers, deeply suspicious of anyone outside their inner circle. Bill and Hillary, by contrast, operated through charm, loyalty, and favors. Bill wielded his charisma like a weapon; Hillary preferred control and calculation. Their world revolved around alliances—unions, donors, and foundations—all tools to restore the Clinton dynasty.

The result was open warfare disguised as political cooperation. When Obama appointed Hillary Secretary of State, it seemed like reconciliation—but Klein reveals it was a forced marriage of convenience. The Obamas kept Hillary at arm’s length and surrounded her with gatekeepers. Hillary, for her part, saw her post as a stepping stone back to the presidency—and waited for her chance to reclaim power.

Why This Feud Matters

The feud wasn’t only about personalities; it shaped American politics. Every public alliance—Bill’s convention speech for Obama in 2012, Hillary’s support for his foreign policies, Obama’s cautious praise of Hillary’s eventual campaign—hid deeper mistrust beneath. Klein suggests this rivalry defined how Democrats approached power after 2008: torn between the Clintons’ transactional pragmatism and Obama’s ideological purity. The struggle influenced everything from the Benghazi hearings to Obamacare’s defense, setting the tone for future Democratic divides between establishment insiders and progressive reformers.

A Tale of Competing Legacies

Bill Clinton wanted a third Clinton presidency—a return to the White House that would secure his historical redemption. Obama wanted to remain the defining face of modern liberalism and ensure his policies survived beyond his term. Their goals could never coexist peacefully. Klein frames it as a Shakespearean drama—full of backroom deals, public flattery, and private fury. When Obama’s team sidelined Bill’s influence after the 2012 election, it ignited the next phase of the feud: the Clintons’ campaign to retake the Democratic party and the presidency for themselves.

Behind the Curtain of Power

As you follow Klein’s account, you’ll see not just two families fighting—but two visions of leadership. Bill Clinton’s Little Rock operation became a palace of political intrigue, filled with donors, strategists, and loyalists plotting Hillary’s return. Obama’s White House, meanwhile, became defined by Valerie Jarrett’s gatekeeping and Michelle’s watchful control. What emerges is a sober reminder that political “teams” are often coalitions of rivals, united not by love but necessity. Blood Feud invites you to look past the speeches and campaign slogans and see how the personal, the emotional, and the strategic intertwine—and how their fallout continues to shape American politics today.

At the heart of Blood Feud lies a fundamental tension: the Clinton vision of politics as practical power versus the Obama belief in moral mission. You can think of it as the collision between a dealmaker and a preacher. Both sides wanted to steer the Democratic Party—but their motives and methods could not be more different.

Bill Clinton’s Pragmatism

Bill Clinton viewed politics as chess, not religion. He believed in triangulation—taking the best ideas from both sides and using negotiation to win incremental victories. His mantra: “It’s about getting results.” For Clinton, loyalty and relationships mattered as much as ideology. He was willing to compromise on free trade, welfare reform, or balancing the budget if it built trust and moved the ball forward. Hillary mirrored this view; she believed real progress required compromise, persistence, and patience.

But to Obama and his circle, this pragmatism felt like betrayal. They saw Clintonism as selling out Democratic principles in favor of maintaining popularity. They bristled at the idea that politics should be about deal-making rather than transformation. Valerie Jarrett, Obama’s closest aide, often called the Clintons “transactional”—a subtle insult in Obama-world, where purity of intention was prized over practicality.

Obama’s Idealism

Barack Obama entered office convinced that he represented a new era—one that would move beyond the compromises and scandals of the past. He demanded moral coherence in policy, whether it meant rejecting lobbying influence or building a healthcare system around fairness. He preferred to inspire rather than negotiate. Critics—including Bill Clinton—saw this as vanity, a belief that charisma could substitute for leadership.

Hillary, ever the realist, found Obama’s style maddening. As Secretary of State, she was often excluded from key decisions that Jarrett controlled. Obama’s world was disciplined, insular, almost academic—one built around trust in his inner circle rather than respect for political veterans. The Clintons, accustomed to coalition building, saw this as amateurish; Obama saw them as tainted by their own cynicism.

Two Different Languages of Power

Klein shows that the result was paralysis. When crises like Benghazi struck, the gap between ideology and pragmatism became lethal. Obama’s team, valuing narrative control, insisted on portraying the tragedy as spontaneous unrest. The Clintons, focused on survival, panicked—Bill urged Hillary to appear strong but compliant, not defensive. Both strategies reflected their governing styles: Obama’s emphasis on story and principle; the Clintons’ instinct for damage control and optics. Each believed the other’s approach endangered the cause they claimed to champion.

In your own work or relationships, you can probably feel echoes of this divide. Are you more of a “Clinton”—focused on winning through compromise—or an “Obama,” driven by ideals even at the cost of alliances? Blood Feud asks you to consider whether leadership is about purity or performance—and what happens when moral vision and political reality collide.

Few political aides in modern history have wielded as much behind-the-scenes power as Valerie Jarrett. Klein portrays her not just as a counselor, but as a gatekeeper, protector, and enforcer—an unelected co-president. For you, this dynamic shows how influence often hides behind access rather than title.

Jarrett as Confidante and Controller

Born into elite African American circles, Jarrett came from what some called the “Transcendent class”—well-connected, highly educated, but far removed from the struggles of everyday constituents. Her relationship with Barack and Michelle Obama went back decades to Chicago City Hall, where she mentored the young couple. Once in the White House, she became indispensable, moving into the presidential residence itself and controlling nearly all access to the president.

Jarrett’s gift lay in emotional intelligence. She soothed Michelle’s insecurities, buffered Barack from confrontation, and mediated between them when tempers flared. For her, loyalty was absolute. If she sensed disloyalty, she marginalized staffers—even senior ones. Chiefs of staff like Rahm Emanuel and Bill Daley both found their authority undermined by her influence.

The Obamas’ “Third Partner”

Klein describes Jarrett as the third member of the Obama marriage—a confidante who dined with the family, traveled with them, and advised on everything from childrearing to foreign policy. Her presence blurred the boundaries between personal and political life. She encouraged Michelle’s protectiveness and reinforced Barack’s introspective tendencies, creating a White House defined by loyalty but often isolated from dissenting views.

“She moves the players around like chess pieces,” said one aide. “She’s brilliant, but she’s feared.”

By examining Jarrett’s role, Klein underscores a universal truth: leadership depends not only on who holds power but on who shapes access to it. Whether in business or public life, the person closest to the decision-maker often determines the direction of institutions—and those who guard the gate control the kingdom.

When Barack Obama’s reelection hopes dimmed in 2011, one unlikely savior emerged: Bill Clinton. The former president’s popularity was soaring, and his political instincts were still sharp. Yet, as Klein reveals, his involvement came with suspicion, manipulation, and ego on both sides.

The Golf Course Bargain

In one of the book’s most cinematic moments, Obama and Clinton met for a tense round of golf at Andrews Air Force Base—a meeting that read like a silent negotiation between enemies. Obama’s body language was cool, defensive. Clinton, talkative and restless, pressed his advantage. By the end of the game, a tentative deal was struck: Clinton would campaign wholeheartedly for Obama in 2012, in return for Obama’s quiet support of Hillary in 2016. It was handshake diplomacy built entirely on mistrust.

Yet even as Clinton agreed, he saw the bargain as leverage—a debt he intended to collect. He returned home to Whitehaven beaming, telling Hillary, “He’s going to owe us big time.” But Hillary, more skeptical, reminded him: “Barack doesn’t keep promises.” Her words proved prophetic.

A Master Manipulator on the Campaign Trail

Clinton threw himself into Obama’s campaign, traveling across swing states and rehabilitating his own image as a Democratic elder statesman. His 2012 Democratic National Convention speech in Charlotte became legendary—an empathetic, fact-filled defense of Obama’s presidency that outshone Obama’s own speech the next night. Commentators gushed that Clinton had saved the campaign. As one aide quipped, “Obama was the candidate, but Clinton was the closer.”

But Klein argues that Clinton’s motives were far from altruistic. In private, he derided Obama as “the amateur” and told friends he’d rather see Hillary run against a Republican in 2016 than inherit Obama’s unpopular record. His help was tactical: a calculated act of self-interest dressed as party loyalty.

From Partner to Problem

Once Obama won reelection, the alliance disintegrated. Obama refused to deliver on promises—blocking Clinton’s people from leading the Democratic National Committee and withholding his endorsement of Hillary. Bill exploded in private, calling Obama “a goddamn amateur.” The golf course handshake had dissolved into open hostility, confirming that in Washington, even shared victories can deepen rivalries. For readers, it’s a reminder that alliances built on ambition rarely survive success.

The tragedy in Benghazi in 2012—when U.S. diplomats were killed in Libya—became both a moment of crisis and a defining test for Hillary Clinton. In Klein’s telling, it also exposed the fractures between her and the Obama administration more than any other episode.

The Night of the Attack

Klein presents Hillary alone at the State Department as reports of the assault on the Benghazi consulate flood in. Despite repeated security warnings from Ambassador Chris Stevens and her staff, reinforcements never came. Hillary’s deputy, Cheryl Mills, tried to manage frantic updates while Hillary called CIA Director David Petraeus for answers. Yet control was already beyond her reach—the CIA, not the State Department, was running a secret armament mission to Syria from Benghazi. When Stevens died, Hillary’s political future was imperiled along with him.

The White House Narrative

Within hours, Obama’s team—particularly Valerie Jarrett and Obama strategist David Plouffe—crafted a political narrative blaming the attack on an anti-Islamic YouTube video rather than terrorism. The reason, Klein argues, was blunt: Obama needed to preserve his campaign claim that “al-Qaeda is on the run.” Hillary balked at the falsehood, but Bill convinced her to follow orders. “You can’t duck responsibility,” he said, “but you can own the stage.” She reluctantly released the infamous statement linking the violence to the video—setting off years of scrutiny.

Damage and Defiance

Klein recounts how Bill assembled legal experts to shield Hillary from blame, arguing her decisions followed White House orders. In the aftermath, Hillary’s infamous outburst—“What difference, at this point, does it make?”—during a 2013 Senate hearing, became a viral rallying cry for her critics. Klein presents it as the epitome of her defensive, combative nature—a product of exhaustion and long years of political survival.

For you, the Benghazi episode reads as both cautionary tale and character study. It shows how tightly political truth can intertwine with personal survival—and how, in public crises, loyalty to a team can outweigh loyalty to the truth. Hillary learned that lesson the hard way, balancing her duty to obey a president with her determination to protect her own legacy.

When Bill Clinton retreated to Little Rock, he built not just a presidential library but a monument to himself—a gleaming glass-and-steel “bridge to the twenty-first century.” Klein paints it as both a sanctuary and a command center, where politics, philanthropy, and ego intertwined.

A Home Fit for a King

Bill’s penthouse atop the Clinton Library was his pride and refuge—nicknamed by locals “Bill’s Palace.” It was eco-friendly, filled with artifacts from foreign leaders, and even featured a rooftop garden where he practiced his golf shots into the Arkansas River. In Klein’s telling, it also served a more personal purpose: a private world for schmoozing donors and, rumor suggested, indulging in his trademark flirtations. In Little Rock, Clinton was a king surrounded by worshipers, free from the Washington spotlight that judged him more harshly.

Reviving His Kingdom

From this perch, Bill rebuilt his empire. The Clinton Foundation and Global Initiative turned into a parallel political ecosystem—part think tank, part campaign machine, part celebrity network. He courted union leaders like Richard Trumka, political celebrities like Tony Blair, and Democratic heavyweights preparing for Hillary 2016. Every handshake in that penthouse served a dual purpose: raising money for charity and power for the next campaign.

But as Klein shows, power never comes without shadows. Even Clinton’s friends worried about his “appetite”—for adoration, risk, and influence. They described him as volatile and aging fast, prone to rage and exhaustion but unwilling to step aside. “He’ll make Hillary president,” one said, “or die trying.”

For readers, Bill’s Little Rock fortress symbolizes how politicians craft personal sanctuaries that double as instruments of power. Success, in Klein’s vision, isn’t about letting go—it’s about building palaces sturdy enough to keep the spotlight forever trained on you.

By the end of Blood Feud, the uneasy truce between the Clintons and the Obamas collapses completely. Klein describes a full-blown cold war fought with staff raids, smear campaigns, and competing visions for the Democratic Party’s future.

Obama’s Betrayal

After Clinton’s pivotal role in Obama’s 2012 victory, Bill expected to control the Democratic National Committee and secure Obama’s support for Hillary’s 2016 run. Instead, Obama reappointed loyalist Debbie Wasserman Schultz and refused to help. Valerie Jarrett reinforced the snub, ensuring that the Obamas, not the Clintons, dictated the party’s direction. In Klein’s words, “The amateur had outsmarted the master.”

The Clintons Strike Back

Bill and Hillary regrouped. They began poaching Obama’s operatives—Jim Messina, Jeremy Bird, Buffy Wicks—building a campaign-in-exile from Little Rock and Chappaqua. Obama was enraged, calling Hillary personally to demand that she “rein in Bill.” Her answer: “Are you serious? I can’t rein Bill in. Never have, never will.” Bill’s revenge extended beyond politics; he sought to erase Obama’s legacy, positioning Hillary as both savior of the party and rebuke to the president’s failures.

Clashing Legacies

Klein closes on a note of tragic irony: both men wanted to shape history but lacked the humility to share it. Obama envisioned himself as the philosopher-president who would transform America’s moral landscape. Clinton wanted to be remembered as the ultimate political craftsman. Their feud became less about policy and more about ownership—of the party, of the presidency, and of destiny itself.

In the end, Klein argues, Bill’s relentless drive positioned Hillary for her long-awaited run—but at a cost. The feud left the Democratic Party divided and weary, while both families’ ambitions consumed whatever unity remained. In that sense, Blood Feud reads like a cautionary drama about how personal ambition can eclipse shared purpose—and how, even in politics, revenge rarely satisfies the appetite that drives it.