Ivanka Trump, a daughter of and aide to the man whose election drove women to mount the largest protest in American history, has published a new book. It’s about how women can best achieve personal satisfaction and professional success. This is an ill-advised endeavor, in theory. In practice, it is an even worse idea than it seems.

In the preface to the book—titled “Women Who Work,” after an “initiative” she launched, in 2014—Ivanka emphasizes that she wrote it before Donald Trump became President. She has since announced that she will donate the profits and refrain from publicizing the book “through a promotional tour or media appearances,” in the hopes of avoiding the appearance of ethical conflicts. (Instead, she has been shilling for the book on Twitter, where she has nearly four million followers.) Nonetheless, it is immediately obvious that circumstances have gotten entirely away from her. When Ivanka published her first book, “The Trump Card,” she was twenty-eight, and her air of oblivious diligence was a reasonable fit for her position as a hardworking heiress, the favored child of a celebrity tycoon. Now that her father is the President and she has assumed a post in the White House, it feels downright perverse to watch her devote breathless attention to the self-actualization processes at work in the lives of wealthy women while studiously ignoring the political forces that shape even those lives.

“Women Who Work” is mostly composed of artless jargon (“All women benefit immeasurably by architecting their lives”) and inspirational quotes you might find by Googling “inspirational quotes.” Her exhortations feel even emptier than usual in light of Trump’s stated policy goals. “We must fight for ourselves, for our rights not just as workers but also as women,” Ivanka writes, and, elsewhere, “Honor yourself by exploring the kind of life you deserve.” The imagined audience for the book is so rarefied that Ivanka confidently calls paying bills and buying groceries “not enormously impactful” to one’s daily productivity. Her nannies are mentioned twice, if you count the acknowledgments; no other household help is alluded to at all. On the book’s second-to-last page, she finally, briefly mentions the need for paid leave and affordable childcare.

The notion that Ivanka’s reticence on political issues conceals an innate goodness and a sort of strategic genius that can only be deployed behind the scenes has been crumbling since November. As I wrote last year in a piece about her previous book, Ivanka possesses a type of beauty that often passes as moral uprightness; she speaks carefully, making some portion of her audience believe that she must act carefully, too. But “Women Who Work” should put an end to the idea that Ivanka is particularly self-aware. In the book’s third paragraph, she assesses her father’s Presidential run by saying, “I have grown tremendously as a person.” Later, she laments not “treating myself to a massage or making much time for self-care” during the campaign. She warns the reader of the dangers of one’s inner circle turning into an echo chamber.

What’s more striking is that the book fails even to get its own story straight: Which came first, Ivanka’s women’s-empowerment initiative or her desire to sell more shoes? The initiative evolved “very organically,” she writes. And yet throughout the book she reverts to the tone of a pitch deck: “I designed my company around a larger mission. Whether you’re trying on a pair of my heels or perusing my Web site for interviewing tips, my ‘why’ is to provide you—a woman who works—with solutions and inspiration.” A few pages later, she describes her entry into the fashion business as a “market opportunity . . . ready to be seized.” The book ultimately doesn’t try very hard to obscure the fact that the Women Who Work initiative was created, as the Times_ _recently reported, as a way to make Ivanka products more marketable. She seems unwilling to acknowledge—if this is something that she has even grasped in the first place—that there could, hypothetically, be a difference between what’s good for women and what’s good for her brand.

In “The Trump Card,” which was published in 2009, Ivanka broadcasts her similarity to her father. “That’s what you get from this particular Daddy’s girl,” she writes at one point. In “Women Who Work,” she praises Trump but positions herself as separate from him. The section dividers in the book are pale pink and meant to be Instagrammed, with elaborately lettered quotes from other people labelled #ITWiseWords; she recommends graciousness, family time, and the cultivation of “brain-boosting hobbies” such as chess and calligraphy. Nonetheless, on occasion, she sounds quite a bit like the President. “When it comes to business, whatever it is I’m doing, I’m incredibly dedicated to creating solutions for modern women who are living full, multidimensional lives,” she writes. The book is full of random advertisements for Trump companies, like this one: “Scion Hotels offer energized social experiences and shared work spaces designed to bring people together to exchange ideas and create.” Sometimes Ivanka even deploys Trump’s comically obtuse diction: “I personally love the word ‘curious.’ I identify with it quite a bit because I am deeply curious.”

As was true of her previous book, there’s very little advice in “Women Who Work” that is specific to women. A reading list at the back contains fifty-three books and TED Talk recommendations—thirty-nine of which were authored by men. There’s no shortage of woman-targeted branding_ _throughout the book—“You are a woman who works,” Ivanka writes, over and over again—but the first actual mention of a gendered situation occurs on page ninety-four, when she notes that women, more than men, can face negative repercussions when they try to negotiate a raise. Her counsel, though, is entirely general: do your research; prove your worth. On page one hundred and four, she finally lays out a woman-specific suggestion: we should be more like men and apply for jobs for which we’re not completely qualified. Given the circumstances, it’s almost funny. In a later section on work/life balance—a “myth,” according to Ivanka, who nonetheless advocates finding a “work/life rhythm that’s optimal for you”—there’s quite a bit of advice about working through and around pregnancy and motherhood, mostly in the form of quotes from Rosie Pope, an entrepreneur who briefly had her own Bravo show called “Pregnant in Heels.”

The other quoted experts—and there are hundreds—are all over the map. There’s Stephen Covey, the business consultant and teacher who wrote “7 Habits of Highly Effective People.” There’s Socrates. There’s Toni Morrison, who is quoted as saying, “Bit by bit, she had claimed herself. Freeing yourself was one thing, claiming ownership of that freed self was another.” (Ivanka does not note that those lines are from the novel “Beloved” and refer to freedom from actual slavery; in this context, they are used as the chapter divider before a section on time management, in which she asks women, “Are you a slave to your time or the master of it?”) There’s Charlotte Perkins Gilman, the feminist author and activist who once wrote, Ivanka has learned, “Life is a verb, not a noun.” There’s a woman with a food blog “dedicated to turning veggies and fruit into spiralized noodles” who appears to offer advice on resilience.