On Our First Decade

This is a particularly special year for the Unofficial Hugo Book Club Blog, as it marks our tenth anniversary of sharing irreverent, iconoclastic, incendiary and often incorrect opinions about science fiction, fandom, and nerd culture.

The bloggers in question.

So much has changed over the course of 10 years. Back when we started this blog, everyone was wearing skinny jeans and button-front skirts, Taylor Swift was Shaking It Off, and some people still believed that climate change was real. Younger readers may not remember this, but way back then science fiction fandom often named important literary awards after famous racists.

When we started this project in 2015, the Hugo Awards were facing multiple crises: WSFS membership numbers were down, a politically motivated cadre tried to hijack the awards, and worst of all the movie Zardoz was not yet available on Netflix.

There were debates about how to handle the crisis, but prior to the launch of the UHBC Blog, nobody had considered writing reviews of science fiction novels and then posting those reviews to what was then still called the “world wide web.”

And how technology has changed as well! Although today, we’re all reading fanzines in the Mark Zuckerberg-memorial fanzine archive in the metaverse, when this blog was launched, most of us were visiting rough-hewn text-only web sites that could be accessed only via dial-up modems. We can still remember the buzzing noise of our Pravetz IMKO-1 personal computer as it slowly downloaded editions of Journey Planet, the villainous fanzine that quickly became our nemesis.

Early editions of this fanzine were typeset entirely in the font Jokerman, mimeographed onto Zip Discs, and then physically mailed to the server farms from which they’d be accessed. It is unfortunate that so many of these early issues of the UHBC Blog are inaccessible now because we no longer have a Zip Drive.

The past decade has had many ups and downs for the UHBC Blog, from highs such as getting nominated for a Hugo Award and interviewing such iconic figures as Billy Zane, to lows such as repeatedly losing the Hugo Award and getting sued by such iconic figures as Billy Zane for claiming to have interviewed him.

Thank you to all those who have contributed to the blog, read the blog, commented on the blog, or hurled invective at the blog. Without your help and disdain, we could never have become the definitive source for reliable factually accurate barely news and almost information about science fiction.

Here’s to 10 more great years together.

Sincerely,
Olav and Amanda (the latter under duress)

The Nerd Reich

Science fiction has long been the literature of nerds. The dudes in lab coats, the chess prodigies, the guys tinkering with computers. At a time when socially awkward science-obsessives were scorned by society, science fiction was sometimes a refuge … and became a haven for nerd-empowerment fables.

As such, the genre often portrays societies where eggheads and dweebs are central in the fate of society. Intellectual elites or highly skilled individuals dominate, reflecting a vision where scientific knowledge and technical prowess are the ultimate sources of power. It is not lost on us that these “nerds” are mostly depicted as male and white.

In his recent book Speculative Whiteness, Jordan S. Carroll tackles the problematic consequences of this legacy. The book traces a history of the ways in which the genre was and continues to be co-opted by the alt-right.

It’s an excellent work, and probably the most important book about science fiction written this year.

The term “speculative whiteness,” Carroll explains, is the racist notion that future orientation (i.e., the ability to imagine the long-term of the species) is an attribute unique to a specific pale-skinned subset of the species. He writes: “By laying bare [the] irresolvable inconsistencies in speculative whiteness, this book hopes to wrest speculative fiction from those who would limit it to the service of oppression.”

Over the course of a brief 100 pages, Carroll makes a strong case for not only the willful misreading of science fictional texts by far-right figures such as Richard Spencer and Giorgia Meloni but also how science fictional tropes and figures within fandom have occasionally been complicit in creating a field that is open to such interpretations.

Despite being an academic work, Speculative Whiteness is generally approachable. Carroll’s writing is occasionally urbane and witty; displaying the absurdity of racist worldviews through the irrationality of their assumptions. Carroll’s research is broad, touching on everything from Norman Spinrad’s satire of fascistic themes in the heroic fantasy The Iron Dream to Larry Niven and Jerry Pournelle’s most problematic book Lucifer’s Hammer.

Jordan S. Carroll won awards
for his previous book.
An excellent interview with
him can be found
at SFF Ruminations.
(Image via the author's BSKY)

Carroll is clearly familiar with both the literary history of science fiction, and its cultural history, as he cites discussions from conventions and fanzines. Although some revered figures in fandom are not depicted in flattering light, Carroll does not ignore the leftist and anti-fascist traditions within the community and notes the work of people like Judith Merrill, Ursula K. Le Guin and P. Djèlí Clark.

The book might have been stronger if it included more about deconstructing some of the negative subtexts in some mainstream modern science fiction. One can find current examples of nerd supremacist fables among best-sellers and works by highly paid mainstream authors. Even authors with relatively strong progressive bona fides have published tomes in which one can find troubling subtext that would fit neatly in the pages of Speculative Whiteness. In particular, we would note stories that emphasize the superiority of technological competence over more traditional sources of authority such as corporate power structures or government bureaucracy. Moreover, the subtext in these works reflect a positivist approach to human society, and sometimes reveals a level of contempt for social sciences and humanities.

We read a warning from Speculative Whiteness — in short, that nerd supremacist fables can always be co-opted by other forms of supremacism.

As a future-oriented genre, science fiction will always appeal to people who have political ideas about what the future should look like. As readers — and as critics — we should be conscious of the subtexts inherent within the imagined futures we celebrate. Speculative Whiteness is an important contribution to this discourse.