Over on X, Isaac Young posted an insightful thread in which he sought to answer why the new counterculture has not yet produced a successor to J.R.R Tokien or Gene Wolfe. It’s definitely worth a read.
Young touches on something profound in his critique of how modern storytelling, particularly on the Right, is ensnared in materialism at the expense of creativity. I agree that this fixation on the technical mechanics of fiction writing like worldbuilding detail, character lore, and scientific plausibility can distract from the true heart of storytelling: belief. After all, when we look to Tolkien and Wolfe, we aren’t just appreciating technical mastery; we’re admiring writers whose work was informed with their rich, transcendent worldview.
Young rightly emphasizes that Tolkien’s elves and Wolfe’s mythic spaces aren’t just concepts; they’re symbols imbued with deeper beliefs about humanity, morality, and the cosmos. When fiction takes on that level of meaning, it becomes more than escapism—it’s a way for readers to encounter and explore the extraordinary.
Tolkien’s work, for example, is rooted in his Catholic understanding of creation and humanity, which endows his mythology with goodness, truth, and beauty. That’s why his elves stand apart from and above lesser authors’ attempts to fasion exotic races. Unlike Roddenberry’s approach of gluing spoons to humans’ heads and calling them aliens, Tolkien imbued his elves with a touch of the eternal. That’s why, instead of being mere caricatures of human virtues or vices, they evoke a longing for the pure and the sacred. And Tolkien made it work because he really believed in those ideals.
Related: Sanderson v Tolkien, Magic v Sacrament
When Young says the Right approaches fiction materialistically, he’s calling attention to the fact that marketing strategies, slick production, and lore-bloated worldbuilding can only go so far without a genuine belief system behind them. Without that foundation, stories might be flashy and intriguing, but they lack the lasting impact that invites readers to examine their own beliefs.
This failing is especially true in genre fiction, where the imaginative possibilities of science fiction and fantasy are essentially limitless. Among dissident writers, those possibilities too often become exercises in detail over depth.
So, what would it take to overcome the Right’s besetting materialism?
Reclaim the Transcendent
Young points out that the way we approach genre tropes today often strips them of their transcendent power. Dragons, for instance, are often portrayed as mere fire-breathing lizards rather than manifestations of primal, mysterious, or terrifyingly divine forces.
Counterculture writers might find inspiration by revisiting classical understandings of symbols—such as dragons as embodiments of chaos or evil, rather than just powerful creatures. That’s not just to push the “cool factor,” but to go beyond it and ask what these larger-than-life archetypes can reveal about us.
Prioritize Meaning Over Detail
Contemporary genre fiction of the Left and the Right too often gets lost in the minutiae. Whether it’s overly intricate magic systems or exhaustive backstories for every character, world builders’ disease is a common affliction among new writers.
Young’s critique reminds us that Tolkien’s and Wolfe’s works aren’t remembered because they read like encyclopedias, but because they feel like real worlds founded on ideas larger than those worlds. So writers today might benefit from stepping back and focusing on a story’s core message. Asking what this world reveals about human nature, God, or the cosmos, i.e., rioritizing meaning, helps anchor a story in universal themes that hit harder than fine detail.
Write from Belief, Not for Recognition
Perhaps the greatest tragedy of materialism is that it pushes creators to focus on external success rather than the integrity of their beliefs. Tolkien and Wolfe wrote not for acclaim but out of conviction. Tolkien’s love of language led him to create a mythology to serve a cultural need. Wolfe’s Catholicism enriched his works with mystery and moral complexity. Contemporary authors on the Right could benefit from creating with a similar sense of purpose, even if it means bending conventions. After all, challenging the status quo is what counterculture movements are supposed to be about.
Leave Room for Organic Symbolism
As Young suggests, modern fiction on the Right doesn’t necessarily need new epics packed with elaborate, artful conceits. Simple, clear stories that use symbols with purpose can prove more powerful. Instead of chasing the latest trends or trying to imitate past creators, authors could focus on investing time-honored symbols with fresh significance. This approach would foster natural storytelling development rather than retreads of old works.
Young’s observations serve as a critique and a call to action. If they wants to rival Tolkien and Wolfe, dissident authors need to transcend the current focus on the material and technical. They must dare to get metaphysical and delve deep into the spiritual and ethical questions that haunt man’s mind. Only by grounding storytelling in real belief can writers hope to produce work like Tolkien’s or Wolfe’s that can shatter Modernity’s disenchanted tyranny.
Get into the best dark, not bleak, fantasy
Quest with relatable heroes against overwhelming odds
Solid advice. Materialism is functionally hollow. Readers long for some meat and cheese inside the sandwich, not just two slices of bread.
That was one of the hardest parts of becoming a writer. I had to keep asking Why about everything, even things that will never show up in the story, and it sometimes took me to places I didn’t expect.
All that to say that I understand it’s difficult to parse through so much meaning in a story you are crafting, but I don’t understand how so many can not bother to even consider looking for it in the first place. If you want a dragon in your story, why would you just make them a big lizard that flies with nothing else behind them? How is that interesting? Perhaps this is why so many stopped reading OldPub so long ago. They also didn’t find it very interesting.
We should aim higher.
I know I’m still developing as a visual artist and I’m a hobbyist at best when it comes to writing, so to fill those gaps to become better I find myself asking bigger questions. That has led to private conversations with myself leading to the conclusion I must strive to imbue everything I make with meaning.
Sounds simple and an easy answer, but it runs much deeper than that. To try and frame the context, I recently bought the book “Art of NASA: the Illustrations that Sold the Missions”. The title of the book is provocative to me. Before we got to space, we had to sell the vision visually. The illustrations had to give us a glimpse into the future of what could be and what would become is we only said ‘yes’. I think to the time period NASA was born and how this program became a symbol of hope for America in a time when the world seemed dark and on the brink of destruction. It’s difficult to put into words how dire the time was, but I’d like to think the sentiment is similar now. NASA wasn’t giving us hope thru positive feelings, it gave us a concrete, tangible destination. That is something I think is missing.
I believe if RWers want to vastly improve their artistic mediums, they should give us works based on the themes of faith, hope, and charity. Give us the big picture of what a world looks like when those three virtues are exercised as second nature. Look to the myths, there’s very little world building and majority person does x and overcomes challenges and that’s always been good enough. Keep that formula of simplicity while selling the themes previously mentioned and you’ll see the creative correction we’ve been looking for.
God willing, I can put some stuff out there which will do just what I talked about above. Time will tell.
I think a lot of writers confuse elaborate worldbuilding with the gritty details that make the world feel real, lived-in and solid. Little things like how in New Sun Severian notices Baldanders’ teeth were small and far apart in his mouth, which makes more sense once we learn more about him.
One thing Wolfe did in New Sun that I really appreciated was having the lord of his world imparted via a lot of ancient accounts, stories and myths told by various characters. It captured that sense of enchantment while giving readers the grand sweep.
I can’t find the vid again, but I watched one awhile back that argued that the Solar Cycle is a Metroidvania for all intents and purposes – you’re constantly given information or shown things too early, that you don’t have the ability to fully access, then backtrack (reread) when you’re equipped to fully explore. The stories even feel like flavor text at times.
I believe I’ll reread the Soul Cycle once the Burned Book prequels are all out.