« The Green Gulag | Main | Said Nobody Ever »
February 19, 2014
Occasionally a fit of Leftism possesses them,
and they accuse, and accuse, and accuse, and say that romance is sexist and dragon-slaying is ecologically unsoundand super-weapons are fascist and portraying invaders as vile is racist and saving space princesses is classist and lookist and sexist AND racist, especially if the space princess and the farmboy are both Caucasian. While the fit is on, they are lost to science fiction, and indeed lost to all literature, high and low, and all poetry and epic, vulgar or Latin. Hoyt Defies the Empire of Lies | John C. Wright's Journal
Posted by gerardvanderleun at February 19, 2014 4:51 PM. This is an entry on the sideblog of American Digest: Check it out.
Your Say
If science fiction does not involve the edges of empire, with the heroes wielding ray-guns, and cruisers coming in to blast pirates and alien hordes - then what ever is it good for?
If I want to read neurotic self-analysis I would just buy a copy of the New Yorker.
Posted by: Mikey NTH at February 19, 2014 7:32 PM
Completely correct, Mikey. I'll wager the New Yorker was an excellent magazine when James Thurber worked for it.
Posted by: Lorne at February 19, 2014 9:00 PM