TV Review: Starfleet Academy

A more than worthy successor to Discovery, somewhat undercut by mixed messaging

Starfleet Academy is proof that a six-decade-old ongoing story can still find ways to feel fresh if it dares try the unusual. Prodigy already showed how the same elevated ideals that sustain the Federation can be adapted for child protagonists, and Lower Decks brought much-needed levity to the franchise’s sometimes suffocating self-importance. The newest iteration, set in the 3000s after the United Federation of Planets has been broken apart and reforged, blends the thrill of space adventure with the angst of teen drama. But the most unusual aspect of Starfleet Academy isn’t even the soap opera side of it; it’s that, extremely rarely for a Star Trek series, it’s driven more by the internal exploration of characters than by clever plot-solving. So I think it may be a worthwhile exercise to analyze the show in the same manner: by focusing on the characters.

Caleb. The show’s protagonist had a childhood traumatized by the Federation, after his mother was sentenced way too harshly for having been at worst an accessory to murder. This defining incident shapes all his relationships: he’s learned to expect to end up alone, so he’s reluctant to bond. This is made evident from the big gestures, like the way he lashes out at his new friends each time they get too close, to the small ones, like his habit of hoarding food (which is a real behavior in children who were abandoned). This issue gives him both a clear direction and a weakness: he has a mission to find his mother, but everything else is secondary to it, so he doesn’t allow himself to experience life. He can’t commit to his girlfriend because he feels too emotionally exposed with her (it doesn’t help that she’s a literal mind-reader), and he can’t participate in a Klingon bonding ritual because he’s still waiting for the family he lost. This is interesting characterization, but it gets resolved too neatly by the end of the season.

Genesis. Our favorite obsessive overachiever has a simpler but harder drama to deal with: as the daughter of a Starfleet admiral, she enters the Academy having already a mountain of second-hand expectations dumped onto her. She’s definitely talented, as well as a quick learner and a natural leader, but she can’t bring herself to believing that her successes are her own, even after she’s proven multiple times that she can improvise resourcefully, notice the details that matter in a moment of urgency and somehow always know the right thing to say to comfort a friend. That’s her tragedy: she treats everyone with much more care and understanding than she’s willing to give to herself.

Darem. This one is fascinating to watch evolve. We first meet him as an arrogant child of aristocrats (we eventually learn he’s literally engaged to a princess), used to being the center of attention and not above hurting others to get his way; over the course of the season, he realizes he doesn’t need to keep putting up an image of flawlessness for parents who don’t even care enough to answer his calls. This frees him to start searching for who he is in reality, and it turns out he’s a loyal friend with a bottomless capacity for empathy—that is, unless you’re dating his crush, in which case he can still be a pain to deal with. His newfound willingness to make fun of himself still needs more practice.

SAM. What can I say about this bubbling avalanche of positivity, our beloved Queen Sam Samallina of Samonita? On one hand, she has an unquenchable thirst for life, an earnest curiosity for a universe she can’t get enough of. On the other hand, she has an entire species’ fate in her hands, being an envoy from sentient holograms with the assignment to study us squishy organic beings and report on whether we’re still a danger to artificial lifeforms. That’s a massive responsibility for someone only four months old, which comes back to bite when she suddenly has to deal with violent trauma without having the emotional resources that come from actually having lived. In a beautiful case of metaphor turned literal, she almost dies because she’s literally too pure for this world. After she quickly-but-not-really (there’s some serious time dilation involved) gains the maturity she needs to maintain a stable personality, she becomes an even more compelling character to watch: now she has enough perspective to critically examine both the person she used to be and the way her friends responded to that version of her.

Jay-Den. Once again there’s only one Klingon in Starfleet, and this time he’s a pacifist studying medicine. This is a refreshing change from the repetitive way this species has been portrayed in Star Trek. Of all the colorful and strange cultures we’ve seen across the decades of this franchise, Klingons have been among the ones that make the least sense. I always wondered how their civilization lasted all the way to the space era without exterminating itself. Now that we’re in the 3000s, the Klingons’ situation is much different: they’ve lost their empire, they’re reduced to a handful of clans, and their collective survival is in question. Jay-Den’s family drama (about being a son of hunters who eschews violence) gets resolved fairly early in the season, and from then on he’s relegated to something of a background role, which is a pity because he’s just the sweetest and his romance subplot is adorable.

Tarima. Ah, Tarima. What shall I do with you, you Manic Pixie Dark Phoenix. This was the character I struggled the most to understand. Her backstory is that, in a species of born telepaths, she’s an exceptionally (even alarmingly) gifted one, and the medical treatments she’s had to live with in order to keep her powers within safe limits have prevented her from fully knowing herself. Frustratingly, this also prevents the audience from getting a sense of what her deal is. She’s reserved, but impulsive, but apprehensive, but uninhibited, but distant, but bold. To be fair, her best scenes are those where her directness cuts through Caleb’s tendency to lie to himself.

Captain Ake. As a centuries-old being who has seen everything, it makes sense that she has little patience for Starfleet’s excessive love of formality and protocol. I love the way she commands respect as a captain without bothering to perform the part. Because the show is mainly focused on the younger characters, we learn about Ake’s personal drama late in the season (she once made a tactical decision that cost her son’s life), but the additional fact that it was her fault that Caleb grew up without his mother gives us enough to chew on in the meantime. The only regrettable moment with her is the finale, where it feels like the Federation comes off as too implausibly clean-handed for the times of hardship that followed the Burn.

With equal parts romance, comedy and technobabble, Starfleet Academy is remarkably well directed, acted and written (I want to single out Kirsten Beyer, who is proving to be by far the best writer in New Trek), although it shares with Discovery a questionable plotting choice: in the 3000s, with the Federation in pieces and the galaxy in dire need of new leaders, why try to remake the same old Federation that already failed, instead of coming up with something different and more suited to the new political reality? Aside from that oversight inherited from its predecessor series, this is a laudable step forward for the franchise, especially after recent disappointments like the nostalgia vomit that was Picard season 3, the inconsistent mess that was Strange New Worlds season 3, and the unforgivable calamity that was the Section 31 film. More of this, please.

Nerd Coefficient: 7/10.

POSTED BY: Arturo Serrano, multiclass Trekkie/Whovian/Moonie/Miraculer, accumulating experience points for still more obsessions.

TV Review: Star Trek: Starfleet Academy (opening episodes)

Gen Z’s Star Trek hits the sweet spot for youthful adventure mixed with Gen X cynicism

Star Trek has grown significantly from the original 1960s adventures of Captain Kirk and the crew of the starship Enterprise. Over the decades, new versions of Star Trek ranged from the bleakness of Enterprise, Picard, and Discovery to the optimism of the original series and Strange New Worlds, to the timely philosophical insights of The Next Generation and Deep Space Nine, to the very funny humor of Lower Decks.

In the background of the adventures, many of our favorite heroes gave passing references to where it all began, Starfleet Academy. But we seldom got a deep dive into life at the academy. Now, just in time for its sixtieth anniversary, Star Trek is going back to the beginning by showing us the start of the hero’s journey for the next generation of explorers in its latest offering, Starfleet Academy. On the Trek continuum from bleak to hilarious, Starfleet Academy is definitely on the optimistic and humorous end of the spectrum. Those who prefer their Star Trek rather serious will be disappointed, because Starfleet Academy feels much more like a live action version of the always humorous Lower Decks. If you haven’t seen Lower Decks, you should, because Lower Decks is funny, clever, and sharply witty in its references to core Star Trek themes and tropes. Starfleet Academy has a bit more seriousness than Lower Decks, but mostly retains a fun, playful tone that is still in touch with the traditional Trek values of diversity, loyalty, heroic empathy, and scientific curiosity.

[Mild spoilers for the first episode] Set centuries into the Star Trek future, Starfleet Academy begins as the story of a single child. Caleb Mir is six years old, living with his mother Anisha (Tatiana Maslany). In her struggle to find food, Anisha accepts aid from a man (Paul Giamatti), not realizing he is a pirate who ultimately killed a Federation officer. Although she cooperates with the Federation, the commander Nahla Ake (Holly Hunter) gives her a cruel punishment, sentencing her to fifteen years in a hard labor camp and putting Caleb in state custody. Feeling betrayed as her son is torn away from her, she warns Caleb not to trust the Federation. As a result, the child tricks Ake and escapes, and grows up as a distrustful street urchin who tries in vain over the years to locate his mother. Meanwhile, Ake is devastated by losing the child she promised to care for, and to whom she promised to bring for visits to the betrayed Anisha. She resigns from Starfleet for fifteen years, but is eventually lured back to lead the newly reopened Starfleet Academy when the long lost Caleb (Sandro Rosta) is caught and incarcerated for stealing. Regretting what happened years ago, she urges Caleb to join the academy instead of being sentenced to prison. Caleb, who is a technology expert, reluctantly accepts enrollment in exchange for Ake’s promise to help locate his mother, who has disappeared from the Federation’s prison system.

Starfleet Academy is being reopened for the first time after a cataclysm known as the Burn. The new cadets will be the first class at the revived academy. Over the past years, officer training had been taken over by the War College, a conflict-focused institution that becomes a rival to the exploration-focused Starfleet Academy. At the academy, Caleb quickly falls in with an eclectic group of new cadets with their own interesting backstories, including Jay-Den (Karim Diané), a gentle-hearted Klingon; SAM (Kerrice Brooks), an earnest and nerdy photonic (hologram); Darem (George Hawkins), an egotistical shapeshifting Khionian; Genesis (Bella Shepard), a clever, success driven Dar-Sha strategist who is Darem’s rival; and later, Betazoid siblings Tarima (Zoë Steiner) and Ocam (Romeo Carere). The young people are supervised by academy instructors, including the eccentric Captain Ake. Ake is a half-Lanthanite who has been alive for centuries and has an attachment to quirky, ancient objects such as old-fashioned eyeglasses and hardback books. She often walks barefoot and helps the kids revenge-prank the neighboring school. Her cranky second in command is the part Klingon, part Jem-Hadar, Lura Thok (Gina Yashere). There is also the returned holographic Doctor (Robert Picardo) from Voyager, and the wise and cynical instructor Jett Reno (Tig Notaro) from the time-traveling Discovery. As the young people settle into the structure and adventure of life at the academy, an old villain returns to wreak havoc, and Caleb has to learn a quick lesson about working with his new allies.

Starfleet Academy does a good job of starting with only two perspectives: the young, rebellious Caleb and the ancient, quirky Ake. The story initially focuses on those points of view and then gradually adds new characters. This technique allows viewers to enjoy the dynamics of this new setting before adding too many new perspectives. If viewers don’t remember the Burn, its story starts in season 3 of Discovery [Editor’s Note: If you haven’t seen Discovery, the short version is that all the dilithium in the galaxy exploded and warp travel became impossible for a whole century]. Fortunately, knowledge of the event is not essential to enjoy Starfleet Academy. The series is set in the distant future, which allows lots of creative freedom regarding technical aspects of the traditional Trek lore. Therefore, a willing suspension of disbelief is helpful for enjoying the story. After the destruction from the Burn, the Federation largely fell apart, with many members abandoning the alliance. The reopening of Starfleet Academy offers opportunities to rebuild those connections with the help of the young cadets.

Starfleet Academy is character-focused and youthfully Gen Z, with a healthy counterbalance of Gen X cynicism from the instructors. Ake refers to the cadets as “kids” despite the fact that many of them are adults by our contemporary standards. This is Star Trek for the Fourth Wing, TikTok, Instagram generation. It’s Trek’s addition to academia-based speculative fiction. Starfleet Academy leans into character tropes with a modern take on traditional group dynamics that have been showcased in pop culture since The Breakfast Club. At times, the clichés feel heavy-handed and a bit predictable, and if you’re not in the mood for hijinks, this may not be the best Trek experience. Even for those of us who are older, we probably still remember college days of cramped cozy dorm life, late night conversations, building lifelong relationships, and struggling with both schoolwork and family expectations. Starfleet Academy leans into those awkward dynamics while maintaining the steady leadership from the older generation. Some YA stories paint the adults as clueless or as adversaries, but here they are treated as smart, fully fleshed-out characters whose wisdom and cynicism are amusingly relatable.

Over the years, many Star Trek series have initially struggled to find their footing, including the ultimately beloved The Next Generation. The franchise suffers from the burden of expectations, and each new series feels the pressure of comparison while trying to do something new. Despite some predictable moments, abrupt character arcs, and outright silliness, the show delivers upbeat adventure and likeable characters who each have enough backstory and angst to let viewers know a reckoning is coming for each one as the series progresses. Additionally, the casting is superb with, Oscar Award powerhouses like Holly Hunter and Paul Giamatti, as well as the amazing Tatiana Maslany, the nostalgic return of Robert Picardo as the holographic doctor, and Stephen Colbert as the deadpan funny dean heard over the academy’s public address system. But the most memorable character is Gina Yashere’s Lura Thok, who steals every scene she is in with her hilariously perpetually irritated attitude.

Despite the new generation vibe, Starfleet Academy is full of easter eggs and nods to both major and minor Trek elements. Long-time fans will catch the signage for Boothsby Park named for the former academy groundskeeper (seen in The Next Generation), the presence of a background character who appears to be a descendant of a species whose racism drove themselves into near-extinction in The Original Series episode “Let That Be Your Last Battlefield,” and the quietly funny presence of an exocomp during a conversation between Lura and Ake.

Starfleet Academy is clearly targeted to a new generation, but it has enough Gen X energy to provide a much needed counterbalance. Besides, the show is filled with many classic Trek references that will appeal to a range of viewers looking for something fun. The pilot episode is called “Kids These Days” and the following episode is called “Beta Test” (also a reference to the arriving Betazoids). Both of these signal that the Starfleet Academy story is a new concept that is just beginning a journey for both a new and older generation.

Nerd Coefficient: 8/10.

Highlights:

• A Gen Z adventure with nods to classic Trek
• Predictable tropes and clichés
• Enjoyably quirky characters and Oscar-caliber actors in a humorous context

POSTED BY: Ann Michelle Harris – Multitasking, fiction writing Trekkie currently dreaming of her next beach vacation.

TV Review: Zomvivor

An entertaining succession of jump scares and survival stress.

Horror stories have been abundant in 2025, providing a cathartic outlet for processing contemporary stress. One of the latest contributions to horror’s zombie sub-genre is a new Netflix short series from Thailand. Zomvivor is the story of several groups of college students trying to survive a zombie outbreak on their locked down campus while trying to uncover and understand the true nature of the infected people who are trapped there with them. With plenty of blood, zombie bites, and moderate gore, the series works well as an entertaining succession of jump scares and survival stress, despite the fact that the larger story arc and backstory are much less satisfying.

The show begins in the midst of a zombie outbreak on a college campus in Thailand. Hordes of flesh-hungry, infected humans attack the remaining survivors on the campus. Once bitten, the victims also turn into a ravenous, vicious, but seemingly mindless, zombies. As students flee the escalating attacks, the survivors settle into several groups including a group of cheer squad guys in a greenhouse and a group of alpha personalities and their minions in a library. In an ironic flashback we see a student film project about a woman who has been turned into a zombie and is now tied to a chair as her colleagues figure out what to do with her. The student actress, Lily, agrees to the student director’s request that she cry tears in her bound zombie state and Lily ponders whether a person so damaged and infected would have the capacity for that type of self-reflection. 

A central plot point involves a genius student Ning who accepts an offer to work with a nervous Professor Wiroj on a project that may cure her comatose mother. Through a series of flashbacks, we learn that Ning and her younger brother Non were raised by their single mother in a working class household. Ning and Non are both students at the university where Ning is a promising honor student on a scholarship. Their mother becomes unexpectedly ill and eventually comatose. Professor Wiroj recruits Ning to help find a cure by working on a body-preserving project for rich people called Anisong. The project is funded by the mysterious benefactor who funds the university. However, through a series of unfortunate and deeply upsetting events, the benefactor’s awful son and heir gets infected with a defective serum and the research pivots to a cure to revive and regenerate his body and that of Ning's comatose mom. As part of the test trials, Dr. Wiroj targets poor, vulnerable, working class workers on the campus to be the test subjects. He feels bad about this, but not enough to stop, especially because he is secretly in love with Ning’s mom. As it turns out, the variant serum is volatile and the test subjects begin to display some very odd behavior. Meanwhile, back in the present, a group of students try to make a stand against the growing hordes of zombies. On group is focused on compassion and the other is focused on violence. Complicating things are the military / private security who want to kill all the students to contain both the outbreak and the secrets behind it. Some of the survivors are also impeded by an uninfected but delusional student who sabotages their safety. They are also hampered by power dynamics among the alpha leaders; and by many students’ feelings of guilt at having to kill their fellow classmates.

Zombie stories have so many commonalities that viewers often know what they're getting when they start to watch. Zomvivor adds some interesting twists to the usual zombie drama which make it quite entertaining, despite the predictable elements. One useful twist is having the story take place in an elite college setting. This allows the characters to have a more strategic engagement with the zombie outbreak since many of them are science students who can theorize on how the zombies behave and can try to create biological and chemical based options for responding, rather than just fighting, running, and hiding.

Another interesting twist is the contained nature of the outbreak. Many zombie horror films involve a zombie apocalypse where entire countries are devastated and only pockets of survivors remain. In Zomvivor, the zombie outbreak we see is essentially confined to the campus. The surviving students are unable to leave but so are the zombies. In the series, the rest of the country may theoretically still be living a normal life while the survivors and zombies remain caught in a confined, locked room adventure.

The story is also told from multiple points of view rather than focusing on a single, lead character. And, Ning, the character who has the most camera time, is an interestingly unreliable narrator and ultimately unlikeable character as she processes new revelations about her morally gray science project. There is, in fact, no central, pure heart hero with whom viewers can emotionally align themselves. The very large ensemble cast makes it hard to bond with a particular character. This is surprising given the show’s survival story concept but it also adds tension to the story by emphasizing the general sense of uncertainty.  On the other hand, the series does a nice job of showcasing kindness, through the altruism and compassion the cheer squad boys show to an infected friend and with each other. The show also briefly addresses class disparities and the way the working class people are treated as disposable, even by the lead characters. In a creepy twist, the zombies, particularly the original cleaning and custodial workers, continue to incoherently follow their pre zombie life routines on the campus, compulsively and sloppily mopping or sweeping with vacant eyes and bloodstained hands. The effect is nicely poignant.

However, despite these interesting elements, the larger sinister background plot feels a bit convoluted and ultimately not emotionally engaging. Key moments of revelations about the villains are hurried through, larger motivations are unclear, and the show ends on an incomplete cliffhanger. After so many satisfying, intense, and entertaining moments throughout the series, the finale is a bit frustrating and leaves viewers without closure. Instead, the ending intentionally leaves us with more questions. For those who like a twisty ambivalence, the adventure may be worth it. For everyone else, it may be a thoughtful and enjoyable ride with an unexpectedly abrupt exit.

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Nerd Coefficient: 7/10

Highlights:

• Entertaining jump scares and intensity
• Appealing side characters mixed with negative or unreliable narrators
• Leaves viewers with more questions than answers

POSTED BY: Ann Michelle Harris – Multitasking, fiction writing Trekkie currently dreaming of her next beach vacation.

Review: Speculative Whiteness: Science Fiction and the Alt-Right

Jordan Carroll uncomfortably probes the connections between the field and the right wing of America

Jordan Carroll’s academic book Speculative Whiteness: Science Fiction and the Alt-Right sets out to do what it says on the tin. His thesis is that the alt-right, as constituted, has undeniable links to the science fiction field, which go back to its earliest eras, and whose consequences and ties remain to this day. He explores how the alt-right’s antisemitism, racism, sexism, queerphobia and other toxic beliefs have manifested, been encouraged, and grown in the soil of science fiction from its inception.

His thesis:

Science fiction serves as more than just a pop culture reference in fascist discourse
[...] the alt-right has interpreted science fiction to say that a fascist world is possible.

It was unfortunately inevitable. Some of the same impulses, ideas, beliefs and interests in the early part of the 20th century bore fruit in a number of, as it turns out, rather interconnected loci. The interest in space exploration (and colonization) bore fruit not only in the stories shepherded by Hugo Gernsback and, more importantly, John C. Campbell, but in the whole strain of the work of Wernher von Braun and his rocket program, first for Nazi Germany, and later, for the United States.

This interchange of conscious and subconscious ideas has had consequences for science fiction as a field, and that is what Carroll examines here. He varies between the historical perspective and that of more recent events. He leans on Alec Nevala-Lee’s book on John C. Campbell (Astounding: John W. Campbell, Isaac Asimov, Robert A. Heinlein, L. Ron Hubbard, and the Golden Age of Science Fiction) to show how Campbellian science fiction has had some of these toxic themes and ideas right from the start, and that the alt-right has been looking at science fiction for models of a fascist future for a long time.

As Carroll notes, this pervasive toxicity has led to some very strange results. He notes The Iron Dream by Norman Spinrad, an out-and-out satire and a strike against the technocratic fascist impulses of science fiction that, quite frankly, probably wouldn’t get a publisher today. The book is not subtle with its points (or even in its cover). And yet, as Carroll points out, there are those on the right who take it as a model to emulate. Carroll also brings up authors like Pournelle and Niven, focusing on Lucifer’s Hammer and its rather lurid racial politics (just as one prominent example, the PoC cannibal army) as mainstreaming the ideas of the alt-right, all the worse because of its blockbuster bestseller status. The darker connections of racial and eugenic politics in science fiction (again, Campbell, but not just Campbell, that’s the point of this book) were kickstarted and encouraged by books like this.

And so, yes, he also naturally tackles Dune. Dune probably could have an entire book written on just its role in politics and science fiction—positive, negative, and neutral. Carroll focuses on how, despite Herbert’s attempt to show the horror and hell of Paul’s life and his role, the whole idea of a “God-Emperor” has been enthusiastically taken up as a role model by elements of the alt-right. They ignore the non-Western elements of the culture of Paul’s society (from the Emperor all the way to the Fremen) and delight in the power of Paul as God-Emperor with his Führerprinzip as something to wish for. And yes, Carroll drags in Warhammer 40K and how, for all that it is overtly a criticism of this grimdark future, like Dune, it is seen as an aspirational future by the alt-right.

Naturally, he also goes on to tackle The Turner Diaries, which is perhaps the most poisonous science fiction or science-fiction-adjacent book of them all. With its explicitly racist and fascist politics, Caroll calls it as a Bible of the white nationalist movement, and I think he’s absolutely right. This is the future the alt-right has always wanted. It’s a manifesto of the darkest order. I am myself reminded of “From my Nightmare 1995 to my Utopian 2050” by William S Lind as being absolutely in this terrible tradition. There is a whole strain of post-apocalyptic novels and stories that Carroll could have gone into that could come in for criticism or at least discussion in interrogating these ideas. Consider the underground city society of A Boy and His Dog and how the girls (and some of the men as well) all wear heavy white makeup.

In the more modern and recent context, Carroll looks at people like Richard Spencer, and also at people like Theodore Beale (a.k.a. Vox Day) and the whole saga of the Rabid and Sad Puppies (once again, relying on an excellent source, this time Camestros Felapton) to show how, in more recent times, this mixture of far-right politics and science fiction has been wrapped around each other. In this era, we don’t just get odious books by authors such as Tom Kratman; we get political action and activity in a direct fashion.

It’s not all doom and gloom, as he highlights authors such as N. K. Jemisin and her award-winning Broken Earth trilogy as countervailing reactions to the alt-right’s attempts to go from simmering beneath the surface to fuller control of science fiction. But in that, I think that Carroll missed a few tricks. The Rabid and Sad Puppies were a fulmination, a fungal bloom of these right, alt-right, far-right movements. But while that tide, as of the writing of the book, and as of the writing of this review, has receded, there is still a strain of writers and authors who attempt to, to various degrees, mainstream reactionary politics. Yes, I could drag Baen Books here, and I already mentioned Kratman, but there are less odious authors who are not quite as overt in these fascist-friendly futures, or futures that the alt-right can wish for.

And to that point, unaddressed and undiscussed in this book (it’s a slim volume, to be fair), some of those currents are present in a greater total mass as subtext (perhaps, to be fair, probably subconsciously) in much more mainstream science fiction. Carroll doesn’t consider or interrogate the problems that this subtext has had in the main run of science fiction. The emphasis on technocracy über alles, the devaluing (or just not even a consideration) of the importance and power of labor, a general rightward bent to the prevailing politics of societies, the overwhelming white-maleness of characters, even today, are all echoing consequences of the Speculative Whiteness. Admittedly, again, to dive into the vast pool of science fiction and try and disentangle even one of these particular fruits would make the book many times its size, and perhaps Carroll did not want to handwave in that particular direction without going into a deep dive. But even as he says that his book is a historical study, I think that not talking about this is precisely part of the problem. I spoke earlier of the soil of science fiction leading to alt-right science fiction blooming, but really, the soil itself has a taint in it. It takes effort for writers to try and detoxify their own work as best they can.¹

That said, and returning to a more positive bent, this is a slim, powerful, and sometimes rather damning look at science fiction and the poisonous and destructive politics of the alt-right. I’ve been aware of these issues for a long time, in a sometimes direct fashion (cf. my own small speaking role in the Sad and Rabid Puppies drama) and an indirect fashion (cf. my engagement and reengagement with Heinlein, Pournelle, Niven, Anderson, et cetera, as well as reading the aforementioned book by Nevala-Lee). This academic work puts it all together, and then some, and presents it with the receipts, as it were.

This is an important book (and I don’t use that phrase lightly). Is it going on my Hugo nomination ballot this year for Best Related Work? Unquestionably yes. And even if you aren't the Hugo-nominating type, if you are at all interested in the field of science fiction and want to experience a more critical analysis of how it has proven to be a fertile soil for the alt-right and their fascist dreams, I strongly recommend Carroll's work.

Reference: Carroll, Jordan. Speculative Whiteness: Science Fiction and the Alt-Right [University of Minnesota Press, 2024].

¹ To give one example: take a look at the Expanse novels by James S. A. Corey... but then look at the TV adaptation, which took visible pains to address some of the problems of the novels. In many ways, it is superior to the source material for the changes and detoxification that it has done. Is it perfect? No. Is it better than the books? Yes. But it takes a lot of capital (in all senses) to not only recognize the problem, but even try to address it.

POSTED BY: Paul Weimer. Ubiquitous in Shadow, but I'm just this guy, you know? @princejvstin