“Jews And Muslims In The White Supremacist Conspiratorial Imagination”

Conspiracy theories are not what they used to be. Two authors probe that difference in “Jews And Muslims In The White Supremacist Conspiratorial Imagination” ($59.95 in hardcover from Routledge; also for Amazon Kindle) by Ron Hirschbein and Amin Asfari.

Hirschbein is Emeritus Professor of Philosophy at Chico State; Asfari is Associate Professor in the Department of Criminology in the School for Professional Advancement at Regis University. 

This is no dry treatise; it’s personal: “This collaboration between a Jew and Muslim reveals we’re both stigmatized and endangered by the same conspiratorial fantasy … Conspiracists imagine that we Jews and Muslims have nothing better to do than to conspire to replace European civilization with a tyranny such that the world has never known—a Jewish monarchy or a Muslim caliphate. Either way, the white race is doomed—just ask the shooters who terrorize our synagogues and mosques.”

Hirschbein and Asfari explore the animating beliefs of those shooters in the book’s four chapters, sardonic in tone and seasoned with Hirschbein’s trademark wordplay. 

Previously, the first chapter notes, “Driven by religious zeal, theorists become … prophets privy to secret revelations … the conspiracist theologian yearns for a redemptive, cleansing apocalypse.” Now, postmodern conspiracists revel in “transgressive entertainment … Driven by insatiable recognition hunger, the postmodernist is an entertainer, not a prophet. Risible memes trump old-fashioned prophesy.”

Join a secret society that reveals the evil going on in secret societies? No; today the goal is public acclaim or disparagement—doesn’t matter which.

Chapter two traces antisemitism stemming from the fraudulent “Protocols of the Learned Elders of Zion” and its rebirth in QAnon; the third focuses on Islamophobia which portrays the Muslim Brotherhood as a monolithic “boogeyman”; the final chapter considers the meme-driven “gamification” of conspiracy theories, shooters “achieving the highest kill score. Game on!”

Is there hope? “The good news … is that informal, personal contact with Jews and Muslims often alleviates prejudice”—but that’s not in the plans of white supremicists. The authors suggest it’s betrayal of the supremicist values (like respect for police) that opened the eyes of some on Januray 6. Perhaps this book will open the eyes of others.

"Wants To Hunt A Bear"

"The Comanches do not have a word for 'God,'" writes Chicoan Chuck Greenwood in a new novel, a virtuoso performance, "but they do have a four-syllable combination that translates 'how all things become and what we should do.' The old men think that making certain that this word is carefully taught to the children is a major responsibility—the word, and the behaviors that the word requires."

One of the old men gives his name to the story. "Wants To Hunt A Bear" ($15 in paperback, independently published), is set on the Llano Estacado, the high desert of northwestern Texas, in the decades following 1864, the troublous times of the so-called "Indian wars." 

With extraordinary skill, Greenwood brings the reader deep into the life of a tight-knit band that faces the ravages of Texas Rangers and the U.S. Army. The group is not passive, yet those wisest among them sense futility. 

"'The white men are wrong,' Wants To Hunt A Bear says at last. 'They are wrong because they think that the land and the animals are things that you can own—you can tell that from the way they look at the animals, and at their fences. … We do not own the land—we belong on it, and that is different … But there are very many of them, and they build their cabins and their fences where they should not be.'"

Greenwood also brings an empathetic focus on those in the Army charged with working out a brutal form of "Manifest Destiny." When Captain Peter Mills reflects in 1872 "after the cavalry under his command had ambushed the band of Comanches," he is deeply troubled; "never before had he seen fallen enemies deliberately trampled, and the bodies of women and children are not normally found on battlefields."

Mills would become a teacher, a transformation. As Antelope tells the band, "'Sometimes a person needs several names, sometimes a person takes a long time becoming who he is.'" The Comanche language "is so economical that they do not even have separate words for 'growing' and 'becoming.'" 

A moment at the end, when those two come together, will pierce the reader's heart.

"Rocketeers"

Longtime Chicoan David Dirks, who helped get KCHO-FM (now mynspr.com) on the air as Chief Engineer, and who now lives with his wife, Karen, in Brentwood, is writing a series of novels drawing on his elementary and high school experiences growing up in central California.

Previous books in the series include "The Art Of Stretching," "A Fickle Wind," "Resurgam (Rise Again)," and "A Fickle Life." They trace the scientific adventures of young David Janzen as he and his pals endeavor to send a "rat astronaut" in a balloon high above their quiet neighborhood and, later, to win the Del Rio Vista High science fair with a rocket launch.

Now, in "Rocketeers" ($8.99 in paperback, independently published; also for Amazon Kindle) Janzen and best friend Jack Johnson, having lost the first science fair competition, are back, preparing to best rival rocketeers Blake and Larry for first place in the twenty-sixth Annual Science Fair.

It's the mid-Sixties, and David and Jack, both 15 and sophomores, enlist junior Brian Whittman and, strangely, senior Billy Martin, brother of "thug and antagonist Bobby Martin" who died in a tragic racing accident. Yes, David's sister Martha is sweet on Billy, but, well, "it is what it is."

"Rocketeers" is less about science and more about the web of relationships Janzen must navigate—at school, in the neighborhood, and in his family. Dad Hank Janzen is mostly supportive, but mom Betty is wary, especially when Billy joins the team.

Life is complicated. The science fair is almost canceled because "irregularities" in judging last year's projects come to light. School administrators seem to have it out for Janzen and his crew. One of their advisors is rumored to be a Nazi (despite his "repentance from the egregious legacy of the Nazi Army"). Will the town of Del Rio Vista (which will remind readers of Delano) ban fireworks (including rockets) altogether?

It all comes down to the two teams setting off their rockets simultaneously. Something gloriously unexpected happens as if in answer to David's thoughts about his own life's purpose: "Terra firma is not so firma when the ground shakes. And I wondered where I was headed…."

Readers should head out to get the book.

"Snow After Fire: A Memoir Of The Paradise Camp Fire And Its Aftermath"

"My heart drops when I take in the scenery," Kandi Maxwell writes, some four years after the Camp Fire. "Paradise is scarred. It will take years to heal the landscape, and much of the geography has been changed forever. It's soul crushing."

Though she and her husband Lloyd were cabin dwellers in the Sierra foothills, away from the fire, her two sons, "who lived on a small dead-end road off Pentz," had to evacuate on that fateful day. At the same time Kandi was dealing with chronic fatigue, Lloyd COPD.

The fire sets into motion a chain of family events recounted with skill and compassion in "Snow After Fire: A Memoir Of The Paradise Camp Fire And Its Aftermath" ($15.99 in paperback from Legacy Book Press LLC; also for Amazon Kindle). 

Maxwell will sign her book (which will be sold at a discount) at Chico's Barnes and Noble on Saturday, June 10 starting at noon.

Chapters range from Fall 2018 to Fall 2021 (and beyond, in the Epilogue). Maxwell closely observes the stresses brought on by family dislocation, her parents' failing health at the other end of the State, and tensions which threaten her marriage. "We needed our lives back. After almost a year of extending so much of ourselves to my family, we were drained. We didn't want to age this way. We wanted to live life on our own terms. … I missed the solitude of our off-grid cabin and longed for the seclusion of backcountry roads."

When Lloyd needs space and quiet, he brings a trailer to newly purchased land away from the cabin, and Kandi must ford snow and mud to visit. She's alone in the cabin, except for Poochie (renamed Little Bit). Eventually come reconciliation, a granddaughter's birthday celebration in Bille Park, and another move.

Maxwell realizes "writing was my way to find clarity in an often-confusing world. It provided structure to my messy emotions. It allowed me time to reflect and to discover something to be thankful for during the chaos. It was, and is, how I find hope."

Readers will sense that hope, and celebrate as well.