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Fitzpatrick's War
In the twenty-sixth century, a new world, devoid of technology, is born after the apocalyptic Storm Times, and, from the ashes, arises a historical document that questions the heroic efforts of Isaac Prophet Fitzpatrick--the Consul and Supreme Commander of the Yukon Confederacy in the twenty-fifth century.
560 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 1, 2004
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April 18, 2022
Fitzpatrick’s War, a prophetic 2004 work of fiction, which I read on a whim, has, somewhat to my surprise, stuck deeply in my mind. Not only does the book echo events that have happened since its publication, it also bids fair to predict the broad outlines of the immediate future. What is more, Fitzpatrick’s War caused me to think about two other topics that interest me, which as it happens are the central themes of this book. First, as our civilization falls backwards in confusion, can we arrest and reverse apparently-inevitable decline? And, not obviously related, but in fact necessarily related, what will God’s judgment be on violence, even arguably-justified violence, that is the certain result of civilizational upheaval?
The book itself is the annotated autobiography, published in 2591, of Sir Robert Mayfair Bruce, sometime boon companion and trusted civil engineer to Lord Isaac Prophet Fitzpatrick, ruler of the Yukon Confederacy, who conquered the entire globe before he turned thirty, and died in 2427, at the age of thirty-one. The original Yukons, who coalesced in the early twenty-first century, were not from the Yukon; they were called “Yukons” as an insult, to imply they were remote from civilization. They were North American farmers, originally organized as the “New Agrarians” (analogous to the Grange movement, perhaps), and because they were the only major group in the West based firmly in reality, they came to supply to the rest of the West first food, then all essential commodities.
In the frame of the book, the events of the Storm Years, the mid-twenty-first century, are largely obscure and difficult to recover. But everyone agrees they were extremely chaotic and violent. In the mid-twenty-first century, as society decayed, and government became increasingly a criminal racket with a fanatic (though largely unspecified) ideological overlay, the Yukons grew in power, since only they could provide the basics of life, which they did in exchange for being left alone by the central government. Various conflicts within this dying society inevitably arose, often centered on the use and misuse of technology. Thus, the Yukons cooperated with the government to destroy the “Brain Lords,” what we now call the Lords of Tech—Mark Zuckerberg, Marc Benioff, and so forth. “The one objective fact we know about [the Brain Lords] is that their enemies [crippled] their computers and then annihilated every last one of them.” Sounds like a good plan to me. Where do I sign up?
Such a fragile power balance, between the Yukons and the federal government, could not last. One man, Bartholomew Iz, a public school teacher turned lawyer, whom the Yukons know as “the Enemy of God,” rose to control the government and embarked on a campaign of global mass murder. This included using fake vaccines, the “People’s Program,” to kill a billion people (the Yukons refused the vaccines; they were purebloods, just like Tucker Carlson and me). The Yukons, attacked by Iz with nuclear weapons and having finally had enough, defeated Iz and put an end to the farce that America had become. A footnote tells us: “Jared Harriman (2072–2151), [was] the first Yukon painter of note. His panoramic A Visit to the Capitol depicts the Yukon First Infantry Division entering the American Capitol Building on July 7, 2086, and the slaughter of the remaining American politicians among the members’ benches and on the floor in front of the speaker’s podium. Copies of A Visit to the Capitol were for many years posted in Yukon classrooms and homes as a visual moral lesson to the young.” Iz was impaled in front of the Capitol. Huh. Any resemblance to recent events is purely coincidental, but perhaps not not predictive.
From that day to this, the Yukons have governed what was Canada and the United States, as well as Australia and Britain, the former “wrested from the Moslem invaders” who conquered the rest of Europe and still rule there. The Yukon social structure is essentially modernized feudalism. The political system is a mixed one, involving a hereditary Senate, elected Consuls, and other elements only vaguely depicted. A limited franchise exists, but for the most part, everyone votes as the local Lord asks, and the Senate does not do more than “maintain a portion of the military, deliver the mail, and issue the war tax in times of trouble.” The capital is in what was Missouri, but the average citizen has almost no contact or dealings with the national government. Technology in Bruce’s time (for complicated reasons) does not involve electricity, although the Yukons are quite advanced in other ways (but decentralized in all aspects, such as not allowing giant enterprises of any type). In practice, no electricity means the Yukons primarily rely on steam power, using alcohol and biodiesel as fuel. Zeppelins are the primary air transport, although there are also fighter and bomber airplanes. Large sailing ships are used for international trade. And so on, though Fitzpatrick, or rather his minions, invents new ways of bringing war to other nations, even the farthest-flung.
The story, in very short, is how Bruce, a commoner but a decorated military veteran (hence the “Sir”) of the occasional wars with Mexico, is raised by the young Lord Fitzpatrick to high position, and then used, with his own eager connivance, despite his moral qualms, by Fitzpatrick to advance his project of conquering the world. Fitzpatrick succeeds spectacularly, but loses himself within his own mind, as did Alexander the Great. He is then assassinated, in Neopolis, his model city built in the desert outside Samarkand. There is much more to the plot, but suffice it that Bruce ultimately retires to his family’s farms in the Pacific Northwest, and spends the rest of his long life (the Yukons have an extended life span) trying to get right with God, afraid of judgment for his sins. Totally aside from the points I am going to raise below, the book is an excellent read, and a great way to spend several hours. It is by turns funny, mordant, heroic, and deeply insightful, and as I say, it will make you think.
I suppose this book can be read on multiple levels. On one level, it can be read as a sort of revenge fantasy for people on the Right (though there is no evidence it is so intended by Judson, or that his politics lean Right). Whatever the events of the twenty-fifth century, the events for five centuries before are a straightforward application, within the technological frame Judson sets up, of reality reasserting itself on a Western society that had gone completely off the rails. And the Yukons are, in fact, the type of society that would be most likely to rise ascendant from the ashes. (Much of their society could be considered Foundationalist, in fact.) The exception is their partial technological primitivism. As with the retro future society posited by John Michael Greer in Retrotopia, where advanced science is either rejected or suppressed, you can’t force primitivism, even partial primitivism, a point James Poulos is lately fond of making. Thinking one can is a form of nostalgia. Certainly taboos and stigma can prevent a society from a great deal of misbehavior, and a well-run society has plenty of both, but they are not magic tools, and if history teaches us anything, it is that military technology in general will inevitably force the development and use of technology overall.
On a more obvious level, the core theme of the book is how the Yukons address the decadence and decline that have ultimately destroyed every human civilization. Why this happens is, of course, a besetting focus of historians. Although in modern times explanations such as runaway complexity (favored by Joseph Tainter) have become popular, more often moral or spiritual factors are adduced, by everyone from innumerable classical authors, to Ibn Khaldun, to Oswald Spengler, to Arnold Toynbee, to John Glubb. Fitting the usual pattern, for the centuries since their origin the Yukons have remained strong by rigorously demanding virtue of everyone, but especially of the ruling classes. Vice is punished, virtue rewarded. Strict social rules governing most aspects of life are ubiquitous (marrying by twenty-five is de facto required, for example). In short, “As Yukons, our activities must be somehow related to work, worship, or warfare. Everything else diverts us from our necessary duties.”
But in the time of Fitzpatrick, the ruling classes have become rotten, as shown by the rise of Fitzpatrick, a man recognizable in other great figures from history. He is charming, sociopathic, convinced of his destiny, and a man who does not sit and count the cost. He is irreligious and laughs at Yukon traditions and customs; he says, for example, the correct interpretation of the story of Jonah is not duty and conforming one’s will to God, but that “we should each be heroes pursuing our own ecstasy.” Yet Fitzpatrick dreams great dreams, and as T. E. Lawrence said, “the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act on their dreams with open eyes, to make them possible.” Unshackled by his victories from any need to even pay lip service to the traditional demanding virtue of the Yukons, he quickly falls into Oriental despotism, and both surrounds himself with, and grants great power and riches, to the worst, most corrupt and decadent, elements of the ruling classes. When he dies, a woman (Lady Chelsea Virtue Shay, the “Chrysanthemum Woman,” a relative by marriage to Fitzpatrick), seizes power and she, her family, and her very many allies terrorize and plunder the rest of the Yukons. But the core of Yukon virtue still remains among the common people, and a quarter-century later the commoners, along with the handful of elites still virtuous, slaughter the Chrysanthemum Woman and all those associated with her, without mercy, and restore the forms and virtue of the original Yukon society, thereby short-circuiting a fatal fall into terminal decadence. At the time of this book (150 years after Fitzpatrick’s death), the Yukons are much as they were four hundred years before—strong, united, dynamic, and virtuous.
Perhaps this is plausible, but other outcomes seem a lot more likely, judging from the historical record. Such a renewal has never occurred. However, the big reveal (spoiler alert!) of the book is that all this has been planned, more or less. Intermittently throughout the book appear members of a Yukon secret society, the Timermen (so called because of the mechanical watches they carry). They were formed at Purdue University in the Storm Years and are the only ones who can still use electricity, though they pose as a mere beneficent organization, like the Shriners. It turns out their real purpose is to keep Yukon civilization from following the normal cycles of history, and to do that, playing a very long game, they aim to keep the Yukons in the “first stage of civilization”—strong, confident, expansionary, what Glubb would call the Age of Pioneers. Most of all, they aim to keep the Yukons virtuous. The problem for civilizations, as the Timermen see it, is that the ruling classes are always tending to ruin as they acquire wealth, and this problem snowballs until it corrupts every aspect of the civilization. Thus, the Timermen schemed to completely destroy the ruling classes of the Yukons before that could happen, and regenerate them from below. (We can ignore that this is a deus ex machina, and that nowhere is it explained how the Timermen are themselves kept virtuous and focused on their goal. Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?)
The solution of the Timermen is, essentially, to separate the wheat from the chaff, and then incinerate the chaff. They do this by using a honeypot, the lure of all the wealth of the earth, causing the chaff to surface themselves (after the Timermen assassinate Fitzpatrick), in a way that allows them to be culled. A clever trick. But, sadly, it’s not practical, because there is no, and will never be, any organization like the Timermen. This “solution” requires some force standing outside the main structures of society, and more powerful than the main structures of society. Such a force, at least such a temporal force, cannot exist. (This is, of course, the reason there is no such thing as “international law,” something thousands of naïve first-year law students discover to their regret, immediately before they disappear into the bowels of large law firms to review endless documents for their masters, morphing into pasty fat imitations of their former selves who forget their goal in entering law school was to be “international lawyers.”) Thus, sadly, Fitzpatrick’s War does not point the way to restoring our own civilization. And even if one had such power, in practice the dividing line between the corrupt elites and the virtuous elites is always shifting and unclear—not to mention that it is rare, indeed, that the common people have avoided the corruption infecting the ruling classes. No, it’s a taller order than simply sorting out the chaff and getting rid of it, I’m afraid.
Is there anything we can do? I’m always recommending aggressive action to curb our own rotten elites, and I’m all for getting rid of as much chaff as can be reasonably identified—but I don’t think that will reset our civilization to Stage One. It might buy us a new lease on life, as the end of the Roman Republic did for the Romans, or it might make it possible to run a decent, if not spectacular, civilization for some centuries to come. After all, there have been civilizations that did not collapse but puttered on, such as Ancient Egypt, though such examples are rare and very old. I am pretty sure Westerners, in their nature, are not capable of maintaining a civilization in stasis. I suspect, although I am sad about it, that a complete fracture of our civilization is necessary for a reset that will allow subsequent grand forward movement. Not a collapse, necessarily, as I have recently discussed, but certainly the total dissolution and reformation of our political and social structures, after the defenestration of our ruling class.
The secondary theme of Fitzpatrick’s War, but the primary internal focus of Bruce’s own thoughts, is the moral freight of killing, direct and indirect, in the pursuit of civilizational glory, or in the course of civilizational upheaval. Killing has always accompanied the heroic age of civilizations, and although Westerners (i.e., Christians), contrary to the propaganda of their modern enemies, were always more restrained than pagans, they were more than a little bloodstained. Hernan Cortés at least had the excuse that the Aztecs were nasty and evil and that he was doing the world a favor; but the Aztecs are long gone. Bruce faces this question for his own participation in Fitzpatrick’s actions, which include killing tens of millions in battle, and hundreds of millions, if not billions, by starvation using bioengineered locusts. He also faces it second-hand, in the actions of the Yukons in the twenty-first century. Not only did the Yukons wipe out the American central government, they wiped out the cities by no longer supplying them food. And as the globe fell into anarchy when electricity failed, they only accepted culturally-aligned European refugees. Thus, billions throughout the world died from disease and starvation.
The Yukons see this as, or tell themselves it was, God’s will. As one student-teacher colloquy goes, “But why did the early Yukons not fear the judgment of God? . . . They did, sir. Fate had put them in an impossible situation, sir. Either they would allow themselves and their families to be destroyed, or they could destroy their enemies. They chose the latter option. . . . They had no choice. God gave us Grace, and He also gave us the instinct for self-preservation. The early Yukons obeyed the instinct he gave them. They perhaps fell short of God’s grace, but . . . . so has everyone else, sir.” Unsurprisingly, Yukon generals can find plenty of Old Testament quotations supporting war; lost on them is the subtle theology that ties many of those injunctions to their own very particular situation. Yet they do not lose their strong faith. “For the Yukons have always pined for the final victory, when we shall be free of the burden of History and the Lord will come and tell us these long years of suffering—both the suffering we have endured and that we have inflicted—were necessary for His plan.”
This moral problem strikes me as a particular conundrum for me. After all, I call for civilizational renewal after a fracture, likely under a charismatic Man of Destiny, at the same time I call for Christianity as the dominant religion of the country. That sounds as if, and history tells us, this is a recipe for a man like Fitzpatrick, or perhaps one like Oliver Cromwell, and a lot of dead people. On the other hand, we should not lightly dismiss the truth that the enemies of God are also our own enemies. Stephen de Young’s God is a Man of War analyzes this question as it exists in the Old Testament. He focuses on characteristics unique to that time and place, such as demonic clans of giants, and let’s not forget that God spoke directly to the prophets of the Israelites, commanding wars of extermination. But let’s also not pass too quickly over the possibility that we, or rather not you and me, but those who rule us, and their minions, are the quite literal successors of Amalek, and of the Aztecs. Any society that kills tens of millions of babies in the womb, or mutilates children in the service of an insane ideology of so-called gender fluidity, or presumes to dictate its poisonous doctrines around the globe by force, should not presume that it is not also under the judgment of God. It was not for nothing the Yukons gave Bartholomew Iz his wholly-accurate moniker, the Enemy of God, and taught it to generation after generation of children. Still, God has not spoken to us, or at least to me, on the matter, and it seems unlikely he plans to, though who can know His plans?
God did speak to King David, and Fitzpatrick sees himself . . . . [review completes as first comment].
The book itself is the annotated autobiography, published in 2591, of Sir Robert Mayfair Bruce, sometime boon companion and trusted civil engineer to Lord Isaac Prophet Fitzpatrick, ruler of the Yukon Confederacy, who conquered the entire globe before he turned thirty, and died in 2427, at the age of thirty-one. The original Yukons, who coalesced in the early twenty-first century, were not from the Yukon; they were called “Yukons” as an insult, to imply they were remote from civilization. They were North American farmers, originally organized as the “New Agrarians” (analogous to the Grange movement, perhaps), and because they were the only major group in the West based firmly in reality, they came to supply to the rest of the West first food, then all essential commodities.
In the frame of the book, the events of the Storm Years, the mid-twenty-first century, are largely obscure and difficult to recover. But everyone agrees they were extremely chaotic and violent. In the mid-twenty-first century, as society decayed, and government became increasingly a criminal racket with a fanatic (though largely unspecified) ideological overlay, the Yukons grew in power, since only they could provide the basics of life, which they did in exchange for being left alone by the central government. Various conflicts within this dying society inevitably arose, often centered on the use and misuse of technology. Thus, the Yukons cooperated with the government to destroy the “Brain Lords,” what we now call the Lords of Tech—Mark Zuckerberg, Marc Benioff, and so forth. “The one objective fact we know about [the Brain Lords] is that their enemies [crippled] their computers and then annihilated every last one of them.” Sounds like a good plan to me. Where do I sign up?
Such a fragile power balance, between the Yukons and the federal government, could not last. One man, Bartholomew Iz, a public school teacher turned lawyer, whom the Yukons know as “the Enemy of God,” rose to control the government and embarked on a campaign of global mass murder. This included using fake vaccines, the “People’s Program,” to kill a billion people (the Yukons refused the vaccines; they were purebloods, just like Tucker Carlson and me). The Yukons, attacked by Iz with nuclear weapons and having finally had enough, defeated Iz and put an end to the farce that America had become. A footnote tells us: “Jared Harriman (2072–2151), [was] the first Yukon painter of note. His panoramic A Visit to the Capitol depicts the Yukon First Infantry Division entering the American Capitol Building on July 7, 2086, and the slaughter of the remaining American politicians among the members’ benches and on the floor in front of the speaker’s podium. Copies of A Visit to the Capitol were for many years posted in Yukon classrooms and homes as a visual moral lesson to the young.” Iz was impaled in front of the Capitol. Huh. Any resemblance to recent events is purely coincidental, but perhaps not not predictive.
From that day to this, the Yukons have governed what was Canada and the United States, as well as Australia and Britain, the former “wrested from the Moslem invaders” who conquered the rest of Europe and still rule there. The Yukon social structure is essentially modernized feudalism. The political system is a mixed one, involving a hereditary Senate, elected Consuls, and other elements only vaguely depicted. A limited franchise exists, but for the most part, everyone votes as the local Lord asks, and the Senate does not do more than “maintain a portion of the military, deliver the mail, and issue the war tax in times of trouble.” The capital is in what was Missouri, but the average citizen has almost no contact or dealings with the national government. Technology in Bruce’s time (for complicated reasons) does not involve electricity, although the Yukons are quite advanced in other ways (but decentralized in all aspects, such as not allowing giant enterprises of any type). In practice, no electricity means the Yukons primarily rely on steam power, using alcohol and biodiesel as fuel. Zeppelins are the primary air transport, although there are also fighter and bomber airplanes. Large sailing ships are used for international trade. And so on, though Fitzpatrick, or rather his minions, invents new ways of bringing war to other nations, even the farthest-flung.
The story, in very short, is how Bruce, a commoner but a decorated military veteran (hence the “Sir”) of the occasional wars with Mexico, is raised by the young Lord Fitzpatrick to high position, and then used, with his own eager connivance, despite his moral qualms, by Fitzpatrick to advance his project of conquering the world. Fitzpatrick succeeds spectacularly, but loses himself within his own mind, as did Alexander the Great. He is then assassinated, in Neopolis, his model city built in the desert outside Samarkand. There is much more to the plot, but suffice it that Bruce ultimately retires to his family’s farms in the Pacific Northwest, and spends the rest of his long life (the Yukons have an extended life span) trying to get right with God, afraid of judgment for his sins. Totally aside from the points I am going to raise below, the book is an excellent read, and a great way to spend several hours. It is by turns funny, mordant, heroic, and deeply insightful, and as I say, it will make you think.
I suppose this book can be read on multiple levels. On one level, it can be read as a sort of revenge fantasy for people on the Right (though there is no evidence it is so intended by Judson, or that his politics lean Right). Whatever the events of the twenty-fifth century, the events for five centuries before are a straightforward application, within the technological frame Judson sets up, of reality reasserting itself on a Western society that had gone completely off the rails. And the Yukons are, in fact, the type of society that would be most likely to rise ascendant from the ashes. (Much of their society could be considered Foundationalist, in fact.) The exception is their partial technological primitivism. As with the retro future society posited by John Michael Greer in Retrotopia, where advanced science is either rejected or suppressed, you can’t force primitivism, even partial primitivism, a point James Poulos is lately fond of making. Thinking one can is a form of nostalgia. Certainly taboos and stigma can prevent a society from a great deal of misbehavior, and a well-run society has plenty of both, but they are not magic tools, and if history teaches us anything, it is that military technology in general will inevitably force the development and use of technology overall.
On a more obvious level, the core theme of the book is how the Yukons address the decadence and decline that have ultimately destroyed every human civilization. Why this happens is, of course, a besetting focus of historians. Although in modern times explanations such as runaway complexity (favored by Joseph Tainter) have become popular, more often moral or spiritual factors are adduced, by everyone from innumerable classical authors, to Ibn Khaldun, to Oswald Spengler, to Arnold Toynbee, to John Glubb. Fitting the usual pattern, for the centuries since their origin the Yukons have remained strong by rigorously demanding virtue of everyone, but especially of the ruling classes. Vice is punished, virtue rewarded. Strict social rules governing most aspects of life are ubiquitous (marrying by twenty-five is de facto required, for example). In short, “As Yukons, our activities must be somehow related to work, worship, or warfare. Everything else diverts us from our necessary duties.”
But in the time of Fitzpatrick, the ruling classes have become rotten, as shown by the rise of Fitzpatrick, a man recognizable in other great figures from history. He is charming, sociopathic, convinced of his destiny, and a man who does not sit and count the cost. He is irreligious and laughs at Yukon traditions and customs; he says, for example, the correct interpretation of the story of Jonah is not duty and conforming one’s will to God, but that “we should each be heroes pursuing our own ecstasy.” Yet Fitzpatrick dreams great dreams, and as T. E. Lawrence said, “the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act on their dreams with open eyes, to make them possible.” Unshackled by his victories from any need to even pay lip service to the traditional demanding virtue of the Yukons, he quickly falls into Oriental despotism, and both surrounds himself with, and grants great power and riches, to the worst, most corrupt and decadent, elements of the ruling classes. When he dies, a woman (Lady Chelsea Virtue Shay, the “Chrysanthemum Woman,” a relative by marriage to Fitzpatrick), seizes power and she, her family, and her very many allies terrorize and plunder the rest of the Yukons. But the core of Yukon virtue still remains among the common people, and a quarter-century later the commoners, along with the handful of elites still virtuous, slaughter the Chrysanthemum Woman and all those associated with her, without mercy, and restore the forms and virtue of the original Yukon society, thereby short-circuiting a fatal fall into terminal decadence. At the time of this book (150 years after Fitzpatrick’s death), the Yukons are much as they were four hundred years before—strong, united, dynamic, and virtuous.
Perhaps this is plausible, but other outcomes seem a lot more likely, judging from the historical record. Such a renewal has never occurred. However, the big reveal (spoiler alert!) of the book is that all this has been planned, more or less. Intermittently throughout the book appear members of a Yukon secret society, the Timermen (so called because of the mechanical watches they carry). They were formed at Purdue University in the Storm Years and are the only ones who can still use electricity, though they pose as a mere beneficent organization, like the Shriners. It turns out their real purpose is to keep Yukon civilization from following the normal cycles of history, and to do that, playing a very long game, they aim to keep the Yukons in the “first stage of civilization”—strong, confident, expansionary, what Glubb would call the Age of Pioneers. Most of all, they aim to keep the Yukons virtuous. The problem for civilizations, as the Timermen see it, is that the ruling classes are always tending to ruin as they acquire wealth, and this problem snowballs until it corrupts every aspect of the civilization. Thus, the Timermen schemed to completely destroy the ruling classes of the Yukons before that could happen, and regenerate them from below. (We can ignore that this is a deus ex machina, and that nowhere is it explained how the Timermen are themselves kept virtuous and focused on their goal. Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?)
The solution of the Timermen is, essentially, to separate the wheat from the chaff, and then incinerate the chaff. They do this by using a honeypot, the lure of all the wealth of the earth, causing the chaff to surface themselves (after the Timermen assassinate Fitzpatrick), in a way that allows them to be culled. A clever trick. But, sadly, it’s not practical, because there is no, and will never be, any organization like the Timermen. This “solution” requires some force standing outside the main structures of society, and more powerful than the main structures of society. Such a force, at least such a temporal force, cannot exist. (This is, of course, the reason there is no such thing as “international law,” something thousands of naïve first-year law students discover to their regret, immediately before they disappear into the bowels of large law firms to review endless documents for their masters, morphing into pasty fat imitations of their former selves who forget their goal in entering law school was to be “international lawyers.”) Thus, sadly, Fitzpatrick’s War does not point the way to restoring our own civilization. And even if one had such power, in practice the dividing line between the corrupt elites and the virtuous elites is always shifting and unclear—not to mention that it is rare, indeed, that the common people have avoided the corruption infecting the ruling classes. No, it’s a taller order than simply sorting out the chaff and getting rid of it, I’m afraid.
Is there anything we can do? I’m always recommending aggressive action to curb our own rotten elites, and I’m all for getting rid of as much chaff as can be reasonably identified—but I don’t think that will reset our civilization to Stage One. It might buy us a new lease on life, as the end of the Roman Republic did for the Romans, or it might make it possible to run a decent, if not spectacular, civilization for some centuries to come. After all, there have been civilizations that did not collapse but puttered on, such as Ancient Egypt, though such examples are rare and very old. I am pretty sure Westerners, in their nature, are not capable of maintaining a civilization in stasis. I suspect, although I am sad about it, that a complete fracture of our civilization is necessary for a reset that will allow subsequent grand forward movement. Not a collapse, necessarily, as I have recently discussed, but certainly the total dissolution and reformation of our political and social structures, after the defenestration of our ruling class.
The secondary theme of Fitzpatrick’s War, but the primary internal focus of Bruce’s own thoughts, is the moral freight of killing, direct and indirect, in the pursuit of civilizational glory, or in the course of civilizational upheaval. Killing has always accompanied the heroic age of civilizations, and although Westerners (i.e., Christians), contrary to the propaganda of their modern enemies, were always more restrained than pagans, they were more than a little bloodstained. Hernan Cortés at least had the excuse that the Aztecs were nasty and evil and that he was doing the world a favor; but the Aztecs are long gone. Bruce faces this question for his own participation in Fitzpatrick’s actions, which include killing tens of millions in battle, and hundreds of millions, if not billions, by starvation using bioengineered locusts. He also faces it second-hand, in the actions of the Yukons in the twenty-first century. Not only did the Yukons wipe out the American central government, they wiped out the cities by no longer supplying them food. And as the globe fell into anarchy when electricity failed, they only accepted culturally-aligned European refugees. Thus, billions throughout the world died from disease and starvation.
The Yukons see this as, or tell themselves it was, God’s will. As one student-teacher colloquy goes, “But why did the early Yukons not fear the judgment of God? . . . They did, sir. Fate had put them in an impossible situation, sir. Either they would allow themselves and their families to be destroyed, or they could destroy their enemies. They chose the latter option. . . . They had no choice. God gave us Grace, and He also gave us the instinct for self-preservation. The early Yukons obeyed the instinct he gave them. They perhaps fell short of God’s grace, but . . . . so has everyone else, sir.” Unsurprisingly, Yukon generals can find plenty of Old Testament quotations supporting war; lost on them is the subtle theology that ties many of those injunctions to their own very particular situation. Yet they do not lose their strong faith. “For the Yukons have always pined for the final victory, when we shall be free of the burden of History and the Lord will come and tell us these long years of suffering—both the suffering we have endured and that we have inflicted—were necessary for His plan.”
This moral problem strikes me as a particular conundrum for me. After all, I call for civilizational renewal after a fracture, likely under a charismatic Man of Destiny, at the same time I call for Christianity as the dominant religion of the country. That sounds as if, and history tells us, this is a recipe for a man like Fitzpatrick, or perhaps one like Oliver Cromwell, and a lot of dead people. On the other hand, we should not lightly dismiss the truth that the enemies of God are also our own enemies. Stephen de Young’s God is a Man of War analyzes this question as it exists in the Old Testament. He focuses on characteristics unique to that time and place, such as demonic clans of giants, and let’s not forget that God spoke directly to the prophets of the Israelites, commanding wars of extermination. But let’s also not pass too quickly over the possibility that we, or rather not you and me, but those who rule us, and their minions, are the quite literal successors of Amalek, and of the Aztecs. Any society that kills tens of millions of babies in the womb, or mutilates children in the service of an insane ideology of so-called gender fluidity, or presumes to dictate its poisonous doctrines around the globe by force, should not presume that it is not also under the judgment of God. It was not for nothing the Yukons gave Bartholomew Iz his wholly-accurate moniker, the Enemy of God, and taught it to generation after generation of children. Still, God has not spoken to us, or at least to me, on the matter, and it seems unlikely he plans to, though who can know His plans?
God did speak to King David, and Fitzpatrick sees himself . . . . [review completes as first comment].
June 10, 2016
It's like someone figured out the premise for a novel that would appeal to me more than anything else in the world (a post-apocalyptic novel annotated by a revisionist historian after the re-emergence of civilization) and then set about disappointing me, on purpose, in every way they possibly could.
February 14, 2016
Pros: - Depth of the worldbuilding here is just phenomenal. - One of the rare times expository, tell-not-show storytelling has actually engaged my reading. - High concept thematic plot filled with characters that intrigue (yes, even the unlikable ones).
Cons: - Dense prose interspersed with slow pacing caused me to return this library book a week late even after renewing it three times.
I recommend it, but you need to take your time with this one. Buy a used copy if you're broke. It'll cost you the same as the library's late fees!
Cons: - Dense prose interspersed with slow pacing caused me to return this library book a week late even after renewing it three times.
I recommend it, but you need to take your time with this one. Buy a used copy if you're broke. It'll cost you the same as the library's late fees!
February 7, 2022
I was surprised how much this book got right. It’s far better than a Sci Fi book like this warrants. The worldbuilding is some of the best I’ve ever seen, the characters are extremely full, the plot is really fulfilling. As a historian, the historical analysis is spot on while at the same time there’s genuine wisdom to a degree that I think this could be considered genuine literature. The plot is true to real life in a way few books are and I’ll never forget Fitz, Charlotte, Dr. Murrey or Bobby Bruce. I also really liked how this was a single volume, while most Sci Fi writers would have made it a five book series. My one qualm is that “Fitzpatrick’s war” is only about 70 pages of the book and I’m kinda salty there weren’t more land campaigns.
July 4, 2021
August 2009
Every good student of History knows of Lord Isaac Prophet Fitzpatrick, great Consul of the Yukon, the most heroic man of an heroic age. An Alexander the Great for the twenty-fifth century, he conquered the world in the name of the Confederacy before he was thirty; though his empire did not survive him, his life, his conquests, and his tragic death have been memorialized in the official histories, from Dr. Jonathan Gerald’s The Age of Fitzpatrick to the epic poem “From the Atlantic to the Pacific” by Miss Mary Anne Collin.
His greatness is still remembered fondly a century and a half later--but not, it seems, by everyone. For this book, Fitzpatrick’s War, or The Early Life of Sir Robert Mayfair Bruce, has recently resurfaced after some decades in well-deserved obscurity. Its author, Sir Robert Mayfair Bruce, a Knight and engineer from whose airfields the Yukons conquered China during the Four Points War, was supposedly Fitzpatrick’s closest friend and most loyal servant. And yet, despite his supposed love for his Lord and Consul, Bruce's memoirs are full of the most awful and vicious slanders against the great Fitzpatrick. Was the Consul as brave, just, and heroic as History portrays him--or was he in fact the weak and insane tyrant Bruce (himself an immoral degenerate dominated by his lowborn wife, if any of his memoir is to be believed) claims him to be? Who are we to believe, learned historians or common liars?
Although this so-called history is nothing but an outragous pack of lies, and Bruce was a bitter and angry man, his ugly portrayal of the great Fitzpatrick (which must not be taken seriously) has nonetheless been presented, fully restored, complete and unabridged, and helpfully annotated by noted historian Roland Modesty Van Buren. Perhaps, if nothing else, Bruce's lies should serve us to view History--true History, that is--with right and proper reverence. Ladies of good character are warned to avoid this book entirely and to read Gerald instead. All others, proceed with caution.
Every good student of History knows of Lord Isaac Prophet Fitzpatrick, great Consul of the Yukon, the most heroic man of an heroic age. An Alexander the Great for the twenty-fifth century, he conquered the world in the name of the Confederacy before he was thirty; though his empire did not survive him, his life, his conquests, and his tragic death have been memorialized in the official histories, from Dr. Jonathan Gerald’s The Age of Fitzpatrick to the epic poem “From the Atlantic to the Pacific” by Miss Mary Anne Collin.
His greatness is still remembered fondly a century and a half later--but not, it seems, by everyone. For this book, Fitzpatrick’s War, or The Early Life of Sir Robert Mayfair Bruce, has recently resurfaced after some decades in well-deserved obscurity. Its author, Sir Robert Mayfair Bruce, a Knight and engineer from whose airfields the Yukons conquered China during the Four Points War, was supposedly Fitzpatrick’s closest friend and most loyal servant. And yet, despite his supposed love for his Lord and Consul, Bruce's memoirs are full of the most awful and vicious slanders against the great Fitzpatrick. Was the Consul as brave, just, and heroic as History portrays him--or was he in fact the weak and insane tyrant Bruce (himself an immoral degenerate dominated by his lowborn wife, if any of his memoir is to be believed) claims him to be? Who are we to believe, learned historians or common liars?
Although this so-called history is nothing but an outragous pack of lies, and Bruce was a bitter and angry man, his ugly portrayal of the great Fitzpatrick (which must not be taken seriously) has nonetheless been presented, fully restored, complete and unabridged, and helpfully annotated by noted historian Roland Modesty Van Buren. Perhaps, if nothing else, Bruce's lies should serve us to view History--true History, that is--with right and proper reverence. Ladies of good character are warned to avoid this book entirely and to read Gerald instead. All others, proceed with caution.
March 4, 2010
I picked up Fitzpatrick's War with bated expectations. The book begins well enough but the pacing starts to peter out as soon a the protagonist encounters a female. Judson decided that the women in his novel would be the exact opposite of the women in reality. I have never met a women whose first words to me were "Damn I want to fuck you so bad."
Judson goes on a horn-dog binge that begins with girls (some of them adolescents) throwing themselves at Bruce and gets topped off by translucent clothes becoming fashionable among all women. Furthermore Bruce utterly refuses to exercise his masculinity preferring to be led around by his wife, who I might add stalked Bruce extensively and decided she would marry him before she'd even talked with him.
I can stand strong female characters but Judson overdoes it and all the horny, pedophillic, self-gratification was completely unnecessary.
Judson goes on a horn-dog binge that begins with girls (some of them adolescents) throwing themselves at Bruce and gets topped off by translucent clothes becoming fashionable among all women. Furthermore Bruce utterly refuses to exercise his masculinity preferring to be led around by his wife, who I might add stalked Bruce extensively and decided she would marry him before she'd even talked with him.
I can stand strong female characters but Judson overdoes it and all the horny, pedophillic, self-gratification was completely unnecessary.
December 15, 2008
Despite what the jacket said about this book, it was neither made interesting used of the steampunk genre is hovers so closely around nor was it filled with anything of interest. I had been misled to believe that there would at least be some element of subterfuge, backhanded alliances, or anything that would have redeemed a novel about a scandalous, fictitious war. Instead the novel was filled with arrogant 20-somethings whose only purpose in life was to make snide comments about 20th and 21st century culture.
In addition to the flawed character personalities, each major plot point was carefully explained to the reader by the narrator, leaving nothing for the reader to discover on their own. The annotations made by a second fictional author did nothing to improve the story and seemed to serve mainly as a way to pad out the print area. These extraneous comments served merely as a primal chest beating display for another fictitious learning facility and added no value of the additional insights that a literary device of this nature could provide.
All in all, this book was boring and fit only for those who enjoy reading books written by an author who views his audience with contempt.
In addition to the flawed character personalities, each major plot point was carefully explained to the reader by the narrator, leaving nothing for the reader to discover on their own. The annotations made by a second fictional author did nothing to improve the story and seemed to serve mainly as a way to pad out the print area. These extraneous comments served merely as a primal chest beating display for another fictitious learning facility and added no value of the additional insights that a literary device of this nature could provide.
All in all, this book was boring and fit only for those who enjoy reading books written by an author who views his audience with contempt.
April 21, 2021
Fitzpatrick's War was in one word "Dense". It details a fake history of the 2400s where the world has been ravaged by various diseases and wars, and a Nazi-esque regime called the "Yukons" controls most of the modern world that is still habitable. Because it was written as a fake memoir with footnotes by a scholar as a commentary there was little dialogue, which meant it could drag severely at times. There were a few times where I would be reading for 30 minutes and realize I'd only read 10 pages. Overall I did enjoy the world, story, and characters, but overall not particularly remarkable.
August 13, 2011
When do you just give up on a book? I made it through 195 pages of this book, and completely lost interest. Yes, I wanted to love it! Yes, I was hoping it would blow my mind. However it did not excite in the least. I haven't completely given up, but the more distance I get from it the more unlikely I am to want to revisit it.
November 14, 2012
Really good story about power currupting absolutly.
January 21, 2013
Fantastic. Highly recommended.
Read
November 12, 2020Not to get too political but I think anyone wondering about the rightward political shift in the US needs to read this.
December 31, 2022
Rewriting Future History: Theodore Judson's Fitzpatrick's WarFitzpatrick's War
Fitzpatrick’s War, the first novel by Theodore Judson, takes the form of a memoir, also named Fitzpatrick’s War, now being republished in its second edition in the year (very much of our Lord) 2591. The memoir’s author, one Sir Robert Bruce, venerable and guilt-ridden former officer of the world-spanning Yukon Confederacy, has put pen to paper to set the record of his master Fitzpatrick’s conquests straight.
In the book-within-a-book, Bruce relates the eventful years of his youth, from his teenage years as a common solider fighting on the Mexican frontier through his meeting with future conqueror Isaac Fitzpatrick and the war they waged together against a nearly helpless world.
Bruce’s story is compelling enough, with its futuristic and yet somehow nostalgic tales of war waged with steam-powered jet aircraft, zeppelins, and “firesticks,” which seem to be some sort of portable napalm that melts terrain and enemy alike into glass. Bruce’s world overflows with treachery, intrigue, male bonding, beautiful women, mad scientists, snappy uniforms, exotic but gallant Noble Savages; if "Tarzan" and "John Carter of Mars" creator Edgar Rice Burroughs were alive today, he may have written something quite like this…with one important difference: he would not have included the editorial notes that give the memoir its vital context.
As we are told in the “Introduction to the Annotated Edition,” this version of Fitzpatrick’s War is being published on the fiftieth anniversary of the first edition – not to bring a celebrated work back into print, but to expose the memoir as a treacherous lie. For the editor of Bruce’s work puts himself firmly on the side of orthodoxy in a decades-long controversy over the veracity of Bruce’s claims. In the world of 2591, Fitzpatrick is venerated, his short rule a Golden Age, his war the high point of an empire’s proud history. Bruce’s work calls this version of history into question, and since it’s too late to suppress the book, it must at least be smeared as a pack of lies.
This unusual construction means that the book has two audiences: the audience of the real world of 2005, who read a rousing SF adventure story, and the imaginary audience of 2591, reading a controversial historical record, engaged in a one-way “conversation” with the work’s editor, named only once as “Ro.” We, the audience of reality, are invited, indeed almost forced, by this construction to consider the reactions of the fictional reader, the one constantly assured and patronized by the editor, the one who must perhaps read the book, if not in hiding, than at least with a sense of a man reading a comic book on a subway: embarrassed, guilty pleasure.
The book raises a number of interesting issues, most especially the power that publishers have over authors. Thanks to the ever present editor’s footnotes, we are constantly reminded that “this passage was not included in the 2541 edition,” or “Bruce is obviously lying here; see Gerald, page 541.” And yet, the essential, terrible truth of Bruce’s account is all too clear to any but the dullest reader: not only was Fitzpatrick’s global war an unjust atrocity, a holocaust, the reader himself must be aware that he is living in a repressive, if not wholly bleak, society. We are even led to wonder whether this 2591 edition is truly the unexpurgated text or if, as in the 2541 edition, several passages have been Bowdlerized or outright omitted?
Or is this, in fact, the editor’s true purpose? While the text is studded with footnotes that constantly call into question Bruce’s character, a deeper reading reveals that the mysterious Ro may, in fact, be playing a very dangerous and subversive game. Bruce’s account is permeated with the ring of truth, since Bruce himself is merciless with regards to his own weaknesses and his participation in Fitzpatrick’s peerless atrocities. His love for his wife Charlotte, his empathy for the Chinese, Indian and African citizens he encounters while at war (whom in his neo-Victorian culture are seen as subhuman), his attempts to mitigate the effects of Fitzpatrick’s war, his loyalty to his friends and even his inevitable, justified betrayal of Fitzpatrick all encourage the reader – both of 2005 and 2491 – to see Bruce’s record as true. The editor’s constant attacks on Bruce’s text become more and more transparent and serving of the current ruling regime with every page.
Therefore it is reasonable to wonder if the anonymous editor is in fact using Bruce’s text as a tool, a means of forcing his fellow citizens to question their sanitized view of history. In the Introduction, the editor states,
“When it became generally known among my colleagues at St. Matthew’s University that I was preparing a new edition of the liar’s book, the Lord Dean of the History and Other Literatures Department took me aside one day during afternoon tea and asked me man to man, ‘Look here, Ro, do you really need to be blowing new cinders into old holocausts?’
Therefore, let me declare before I sojourn too far in res I most certainly do not accept the whole or any part of Bruce’s account as Historic fact. Unlike real Historians, Bruce consistently strives for sensation and does not instruct his readers in virtue.”
A very telling passage, for it reveals that the role of history itself has been subverted in this culture; its purpose is to uphold virtue, presumably those virtues held in esteem by the current ruling class.
Ro continues:
“Why then, as the freshman in the famous anecdote demands, should we read this book? The answer of course is that just as Plato taught us that pleasure comes from having known pain, and as St. Augustine demonstrate (sic) that redemption arises from knowing sin, the great philosopher and Historian Murrey has shown that knowing truth comes from being familiar with lies; indeed, truth could not exist without its opposite…
Even novice scholars must start with the premise that there are certain master thinkers who cannot be challenged, but only appreciated and, in rare instances, improved upon. Therefore, by confronting Bruce’s outlandish exaggerations we can discern the excellence of the accepted accounts of Fitzpatrick’s life.”
Ro is taking great pains to explain why he has undertaken what is obviously seen as a dubious enterprise, one questioned by his academic peers. He doth protest too much, it seems, and it is in the book’s afterword that Ro’s true purpose can be divined. Ro rants for a time about Bruce’s supposed lies, and yet he gives the final word to the account of a humble fisherman, Edward Tolde, who knew Sir Robert and his family in their later years and told his story to a magazine writer named Cather.
“I think I only need to quote the simple fisherman as he speaks in the article to give us an accurate picture of what sort of man Bruce was. I will conclude my commentary with what Tolde said to Cather, which speaks for itself:
Sir Robert was a peculiar sort of chap in the village, sir. I mean to say, he was more approachable and kinder to people than you would think a man of his position would be. He had his general’s pension when he was old, and he and his wife always sent off a portion of what they got each month to an orphanage in Grand Harbor or else they gave it to anybody in the village they thought needed some help.”
The fisherman goes on to relate how the aged Bruce saved some Nipponese sailors from a lynching, and details some of his “scandalous” behaviour with his wife – scandalous in that he was known to dance with her or kiss her palms in public, lewd and unseemly acts in the Yukon Confederacy. It is a wholly sympathetic portrait, completely undermining all Ro’s words, cementing in the readers’ minds the truth of Bruce’s account.
So in the end, we are left to wonder: is the world of 2491 so repressive that Ro actually believes every word he writes about Bruce, without irony, unaware that some of his readers (at least the “real” readers of 2005) will be compelled to take a viewpoint to which he is ostensibly opposed? Am I, as one of those readers of 2005, merely imprinting my cultural mores on the imaginary editor?
Or is there reason to hope that the world of 2491 is at last beginning to change, to question its own history? Is Ro a fundamentally honest historian, bringing a controversial work back into the public eye in the only way he can, given the restrictions of his time?
Only one thing is certain: history, yet again, has been written by the winners. But it can be rewritten, the truth brought back to the fore, if some of those winners can follow the dictates of their conscience.
Fitzpatrick’s War, the first novel by Theodore Judson, takes the form of a memoir, also named Fitzpatrick’s War, now being republished in its second edition in the year (very much of our Lord) 2591. The memoir’s author, one Sir Robert Bruce, venerable and guilt-ridden former officer of the world-spanning Yukon Confederacy, has put pen to paper to set the record of his master Fitzpatrick’s conquests straight.
In the book-within-a-book, Bruce relates the eventful years of his youth, from his teenage years as a common solider fighting on the Mexican frontier through his meeting with future conqueror Isaac Fitzpatrick and the war they waged together against a nearly helpless world.
Bruce’s story is compelling enough, with its futuristic and yet somehow nostalgic tales of war waged with steam-powered jet aircraft, zeppelins, and “firesticks,” which seem to be some sort of portable napalm that melts terrain and enemy alike into glass. Bruce’s world overflows with treachery, intrigue, male bonding, beautiful women, mad scientists, snappy uniforms, exotic but gallant Noble Savages; if "Tarzan" and "John Carter of Mars" creator Edgar Rice Burroughs were alive today, he may have written something quite like this…with one important difference: he would not have included the editorial notes that give the memoir its vital context.
As we are told in the “Introduction to the Annotated Edition,” this version of Fitzpatrick’s War is being published on the fiftieth anniversary of the first edition – not to bring a celebrated work back into print, but to expose the memoir as a treacherous lie. For the editor of Bruce’s work puts himself firmly on the side of orthodoxy in a decades-long controversy over the veracity of Bruce’s claims. In the world of 2591, Fitzpatrick is venerated, his short rule a Golden Age, his war the high point of an empire’s proud history. Bruce’s work calls this version of history into question, and since it’s too late to suppress the book, it must at least be smeared as a pack of lies.
This unusual construction means that the book has two audiences: the audience of the real world of 2005, who read a rousing SF adventure story, and the imaginary audience of 2591, reading a controversial historical record, engaged in a one-way “conversation” with the work’s editor, named only once as “Ro.” We, the audience of reality, are invited, indeed almost forced, by this construction to consider the reactions of the fictional reader, the one constantly assured and patronized by the editor, the one who must perhaps read the book, if not in hiding, than at least with a sense of a man reading a comic book on a subway: embarrassed, guilty pleasure.
The book raises a number of interesting issues, most especially the power that publishers have over authors. Thanks to the ever present editor’s footnotes, we are constantly reminded that “this passage was not included in the 2541 edition,” or “Bruce is obviously lying here; see Gerald, page 541.” And yet, the essential, terrible truth of Bruce’s account is all too clear to any but the dullest reader: not only was Fitzpatrick’s global war an unjust atrocity, a holocaust, the reader himself must be aware that he is living in a repressive, if not wholly bleak, society. We are even led to wonder whether this 2591 edition is truly the unexpurgated text or if, as in the 2541 edition, several passages have been Bowdlerized or outright omitted?
Or is this, in fact, the editor’s true purpose? While the text is studded with footnotes that constantly call into question Bruce’s character, a deeper reading reveals that the mysterious Ro may, in fact, be playing a very dangerous and subversive game. Bruce’s account is permeated with the ring of truth, since Bruce himself is merciless with regards to his own weaknesses and his participation in Fitzpatrick’s peerless atrocities. His love for his wife Charlotte, his empathy for the Chinese, Indian and African citizens he encounters while at war (whom in his neo-Victorian culture are seen as subhuman), his attempts to mitigate the effects of Fitzpatrick’s war, his loyalty to his friends and even his inevitable, justified betrayal of Fitzpatrick all encourage the reader – both of 2005 and 2491 – to see Bruce’s record as true. The editor’s constant attacks on Bruce’s text become more and more transparent and serving of the current ruling regime with every page.
Therefore it is reasonable to wonder if the anonymous editor is in fact using Bruce’s text as a tool, a means of forcing his fellow citizens to question their sanitized view of history. In the Introduction, the editor states,
“When it became generally known among my colleagues at St. Matthew’s University that I was preparing a new edition of the liar’s book, the Lord Dean of the History and Other Literatures Department took me aside one day during afternoon tea and asked me man to man, ‘Look here, Ro, do you really need to be blowing new cinders into old holocausts?’
Therefore, let me declare before I sojourn too far in res I most certainly do not accept the whole or any part of Bruce’s account as Historic fact. Unlike real Historians, Bruce consistently strives for sensation and does not instruct his readers in virtue.”
A very telling passage, for it reveals that the role of history itself has been subverted in this culture; its purpose is to uphold virtue, presumably those virtues held in esteem by the current ruling class.
Ro continues:
“Why then, as the freshman in the famous anecdote demands, should we read this book? The answer of course is that just as Plato taught us that pleasure comes from having known pain, and as St. Augustine demonstrate (sic) that redemption arises from knowing sin, the great philosopher and Historian Murrey has shown that knowing truth comes from being familiar with lies; indeed, truth could not exist without its opposite…
Even novice scholars must start with the premise that there are certain master thinkers who cannot be challenged, but only appreciated and, in rare instances, improved upon. Therefore, by confronting Bruce’s outlandish exaggerations we can discern the excellence of the accepted accounts of Fitzpatrick’s life.”
Ro is taking great pains to explain why he has undertaken what is obviously seen as a dubious enterprise, one questioned by his academic peers. He doth protest too much, it seems, and it is in the book’s afterword that Ro’s true purpose can be divined. Ro rants for a time about Bruce’s supposed lies, and yet he gives the final word to the account of a humble fisherman, Edward Tolde, who knew Sir Robert and his family in their later years and told his story to a magazine writer named Cather.
“I think I only need to quote the simple fisherman as he speaks in the article to give us an accurate picture of what sort of man Bruce was. I will conclude my commentary with what Tolde said to Cather, which speaks for itself:
Sir Robert was a peculiar sort of chap in the village, sir. I mean to say, he was more approachable and kinder to people than you would think a man of his position would be. He had his general’s pension when he was old, and he and his wife always sent off a portion of what they got each month to an orphanage in Grand Harbor or else they gave it to anybody in the village they thought needed some help.”
The fisherman goes on to relate how the aged Bruce saved some Nipponese sailors from a lynching, and details some of his “scandalous” behaviour with his wife – scandalous in that he was known to dance with her or kiss her palms in public, lewd and unseemly acts in the Yukon Confederacy. It is a wholly sympathetic portrait, completely undermining all Ro’s words, cementing in the readers’ minds the truth of Bruce’s account.
So in the end, we are left to wonder: is the world of 2491 so repressive that Ro actually believes every word he writes about Bruce, without irony, unaware that some of his readers (at least the “real” readers of 2005) will be compelled to take a viewpoint to which he is ostensibly opposed? Am I, as one of those readers of 2005, merely imprinting my cultural mores on the imaginary editor?
Or is there reason to hope that the world of 2491 is at last beginning to change, to question its own history? Is Ro a fundamentally honest historian, bringing a controversial work back into the public eye in the only way he can, given the restrictions of his time?
Only one thing is certain: history, yet again, has been written by the winners. But it can be rewritten, the truth brought back to the fore, if some of those winners can follow the dictates of their conscience.
July 10, 2017
2.5 -3 stars. Post-apocalyptic steampunk and political intrigue in alternate-future Earth. It's presented as an alternate history/autobiography of a fictional character, Sir Robert Bruce, with a "real historian" making comments in footnotes throughout. At first this was tough to get over, but it blended more over time. Mostly these comments are to show how elitist, racist, sexist, and backward the supposedly enlightened future society remains, while the narrator brings all the warts of the story out with his side of the truth. Interesting experiment.
The world building kind of threw me for a while. They don't use electricity, but do use advanced steam power and advanced chemistry, etc. Somehow the technocratic elite still has satellites, but I didn't feel this was well explained. I rolled with it, and it certainly came up a lot as a communication advantage for the protags, but it kept bugging me.
Character-wise, it is quite a gut punch to see a talented, low-born, ambitious yet honest man follow a high-born, ambitious friend to dazzling heights and then watch almost all his friends betray or warp or destroy all the good his military and country ever stood for. I particularly felt for Hood, an older and accomplished general who goes through a severe moral crisis along with Bruce. Some of the machinations of the characters also felt a little forced with little explanation or harder to follow, but you generally got the gist that just about all the nobles and wealthy friends in this society were absolutely terrible people. I also thought the love story between Bruce and his wife felt a little hackneyed at times, but more often than not it was genuine and it was nice to see at least somebody else other than Hood whom Bruce could trust and love without reservation or suspicion. They felt real together, and they made a great family.
If you like steampunk/post-apocalyptic settings, or if you like stories that focus on the writing/interpretation of history and its effects on society, you should give this a try. If those aren't your bag, I don't know that you'd be missing too much.
The world building kind of threw me for a while. They don't use electricity, but do use advanced steam power and advanced chemistry, etc. Somehow the technocratic elite still has satellites, but I didn't feel this was well explained. I rolled with it, and it certainly came up a lot as a communication advantage for the protags, but it kept bugging me.
Character-wise, it is quite a gut punch to see a talented, low-born, ambitious yet honest man follow a high-born, ambitious friend to dazzling heights and then watch almost all his friends betray or warp or destroy all the good his military and country ever stood for. I particularly felt for Hood, an older and accomplished general who goes through a severe moral crisis along with Bruce. Some of the machinations of the characters also felt a little forced with little explanation or harder to follow, but you generally got the gist that just about all the nobles and wealthy friends in this society were absolutely terrible people. I also thought the love story between Bruce and his wife felt a little hackneyed at times, but more often than not it was genuine and it was nice to see at least somebody else other than Hood whom Bruce could trust and love without reservation or suspicion. They felt real together, and they made a great family.
If you like steampunk/post-apocalyptic settings, or if you like stories that focus on the writing/interpretation of history and its effects on society, you should give this a try. If those aren't your bag, I don't know that you'd be missing too much.
December 25, 2017
Rather than saying that this is a genuinely interesting steampunk novel, I'd say this has interesting elements to it. One of the things I find interesting here is the set of allusions upon which the novel relies, allusions to both history and literature. Most of these allusions surround Fitzpatrick the Younger, who is the main leader of the Yukon Confederacy throughout the novel. He is implicitly or explicitly compared to Alexander the Great, King Arthur, Richard the Lionheart, King David, and other figures. While none of these comparisons or allusions is in themselves particularly unique or noteworthy, the density of references makes this a really fun novel to read for its intertextual connections.
The other thing I find interesting is the uncertainty at the heart of this novel. The main text is the memoirs of General Sir Robert Bruce, a close associate of Fitzpatrick and key player in the war that raised the Yukons to domination of the planet. But this is presented as a scholarly edition with commentary on the text by Doctor Professor Roland Modesty Van Buren, and much of his scholarly commentary is devoted to claiming that Bruce was a liar (as regards historical events) and degenerate (in terms of loving his wife and not taking joy in killing his enemies). For the most part, I think we are meant to take Bruce's narrative as true, while questioning the official history from which Van Buren is working (and which Bruce claims was dictated by the increasingly deranged and paranoid Fitzpatrick). So, while we as readers are unlikely to accept Van Buren's ideology or the bases for his judgement of Bruce, the existence of the scholarly commentary undermines the authority of the main novel's tale in unique ways.
The other thing I find interesting is the uncertainty at the heart of this novel. The main text is the memoirs of General Sir Robert Bruce, a close associate of Fitzpatrick and key player in the war that raised the Yukons to domination of the planet. But this is presented as a scholarly edition with commentary on the text by Doctor Professor Roland Modesty Van Buren, and much of his scholarly commentary is devoted to claiming that Bruce was a liar (as regards historical events) and degenerate (in terms of loving his wife and not taking joy in killing his enemies). For the most part, I think we are meant to take Bruce's narrative as true, while questioning the official history from which Van Buren is working (and which Bruce claims was dictated by the increasingly deranged and paranoid Fitzpatrick). So, while we as readers are unlikely to accept Van Buren's ideology or the bases for his judgement of Bruce, the existence of the scholarly commentary undermines the authority of the main novel's tale in unique ways.
June 18, 2020
I re-read this book today after having set it aside for a few years. I first read this book when I was a teenager. Being 31 now, it is a much different experience, though some of that is due to the current political climate.
I’m not sure of Judson’s politics, but it is clear that we’re meant to feel that Yukon society is a bucolic utopia. However, upon reading the book closely, it’s clear that the society it supports is deeply fascistic, racist and brutal. Given that it was released in 2004, we have to view it as something of a critique of neoconservative adventurism.
On the characters - Judson has a strong view that power corrupts deeply, to the point of two men in powerful positions going insane, and one (Fitzpatrick the Elder) being presented as a capricious martinet. I’m not sure I buy it, though it does support the Timermen’s supposed motivation of eliminating the decadent Lords from Yukon society. That said, Robert, our narrator, is a thoroughly upstanding man whose only fault is ambition and a desire to please. His wife is a fiery and earthy bleeding-heart who dominates the relationship in order to drive him to his better self. Do I believe that these are realistic characters? No. Do I enjoy reading them? Absolutely.
Ultimately this book is depressing in that it does not offer solutions to the problems of the fascistic Yukons - or indeed any other evil. Judson appears to endorse living quietly and happily, doing what good you can, in the face of evil. I’m not sure I buy it, but it does make for sympathetic characters.
I’m not sure of Judson’s politics, but it is clear that we’re meant to feel that Yukon society is a bucolic utopia. However, upon reading the book closely, it’s clear that the society it supports is deeply fascistic, racist and brutal. Given that it was released in 2004, we have to view it as something of a critique of neoconservative adventurism.
On the characters - Judson has a strong view that power corrupts deeply, to the point of two men in powerful positions going insane, and one (Fitzpatrick the Elder) being presented as a capricious martinet. I’m not sure I buy it, though it does support the Timermen’s supposed motivation of eliminating the decadent Lords from Yukon society. That said, Robert, our narrator, is a thoroughly upstanding man whose only fault is ambition and a desire to please. His wife is a fiery and earthy bleeding-heart who dominates the relationship in order to drive him to his better self. Do I believe that these are realistic characters? No. Do I enjoy reading them? Absolutely.
Ultimately this book is depressing in that it does not offer solutions to the problems of the fascistic Yukons - or indeed any other evil. Judson appears to endorse living quietly and happily, doing what good you can, in the face of evil. I’m not sure I buy it, but it does make for sympathetic characters.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
June 10, 2025
Phenomenal book. 10/10. It's a very thorough, brutal takedown of reactionary ideas wrapped in nostalgia for an imagined past, seen from the perspective of a deeply suggestible man who condemns billions to death as a cog in the steampunk empire's machine. The touch of in-universe academia (the man's memoirs are analyzed by a contemporary historian who, to put it mildly, disagrees with Bruce's recounting of his life) adds comedy, pathos, insight, and immersion - excellent choice on Judson's part.
The Yukon Confederacy is an almost pitch perfect takedown of both modern American reactionary neuroses and those of Victorian England's. It's such a well-executed alien society while being sometimes eerily familiar.
There are so many brilliant, memorable characters in this - the Four Points War is truly harrowing and horrific - cannot recommend this book enough, not just for steampunk fans, but for anyone looking for a memoir of a man who saw and did the worst mankind has to offer, in the name of a truly evil cause, but that you still find yourself sympathizing with by the end.
The Yukon Confederacy is an almost pitch perfect takedown of both modern American reactionary neuroses and those of Victorian England's. It's such a well-executed alien society while being sometimes eerily familiar.
There are so many brilliant, memorable characters in this - the Four Points War is truly harrowing and horrific - cannot recommend this book enough, not just for steampunk fans, but for anyone looking for a memoir of a man who saw and did the worst mankind has to offer, in the name of a truly evil cause, but that you still find yourself sympathizing with by the end.
August 8, 2008
I confess to be crazy for narrative technique and experimentation. One of my favorite books of all time is Vladimir Nabokov's 'Pale Fire'. Italio Calvino’s novels also some to mind, as does any work by Raymond Federman, who I had the honor of meeting at SDSU during Jewish Week almost nine years ago, and whose works are still some of my favorite reads. Theodore Judson’s Science Fiction novel, 'Fitzpatrick's War', utilizes the annotated notes of a "professor" in the same way as Nabokov's "editor and professor", Charles Kinbote, though not in the brilliant way that Nabokov employs the technique. Yet, what we have here is a novel with a lot of promise and challenges presented to the reader. Challenges which is missing in a lot of Science Fiction today, with the often cliché and all too often overburdened premise that Science Fiction is nothing more than adventure motif.Adventurous Science Fiction has it's place, but it is refreshing to see a recent novel like this one on the shelves. Here is book I will have to think about for some time, if only to question whether I followed logic to it’s proper conclusion, or has any of the characters hoodwinked me.
Though set six centuries in the future, the technology of the novel reflects a more Steampunk vision of the future; where electric and computerization practically disappears by the Storm Times, a period of revolution, discontent, and complete breakdown of society and government. It is also a period where reconstructing the past, and recovering the technology of the past is practically impossible. Many misunderstandings by both the characters in the memoir and the annotations by the professor are sprinkled about the book. It is also a society which is semi-feudal, with Lords, yet what seems to be a Parliamentary form of government, until the Hitlerian Fitzpatrick the Younger takes over, is mixed in. These factions play out a heart rendering drama of genocide and oppression as the novel progresses. In fact, it is Bruce’s telling of history that Van Buren questions and becomes the basis of the novel’s premise.
It is also a book where we are to judge the truth about the two narrators, Sir Robert Bruce, an engineer and military officer for the Yukon Confederacy, in the twenty-sixth century, and Doctor Professor Roland Modesty Van Buren, the editor of the “present” text of Bruce’s, about two centuries later (There is no date of Bruce’s death, so I have made an approximate guess at the two narrators chronological distance). Van Buren, from the very beginning, derides Bruce’s narrative as a pack of lies. What distinguishes the tone of his annotations and criticisms is something akin to the denunciations of “bourgeoisie living” during the Chinese Cultural Revolution in materials and public confessions. Such instances cover a range of criticism from mild rebuke (‘Fitzpatrick’s war, 462), begrudging caveats of acknowledgements, followed by an experts correction (424), to pure revulsion in branding Bruce a liar (144, Editor’s Afterword, etc.). This has to be weighed by Bruce’s own narrative, which sounds clear cut and reasonable, up until the last chapter, where a grand conspiracy which begs credulity is explained. The thing that keeps this book going is looking at the two narratives and figuring out who is expressing the truth, Bruce or Van Buren, or if Van Buren is not himself a conspirator, as well as a past historian, Professor Gerald, which Van Buren uses as a primary source.
Other things seem to be implicated that is never fully answered. Is the government a quasi-Theocracy? It is interesting how this question was raised on more than one occasion when seeing the cultural perspective of the twenty-sixth century and how they square with the mores and legalism in the novel (275, etc.), and how other religions are marginalized (80) to the domination of the United Yukon Church, or U.Y.C. How government utilizes and consolidates power through the U.Y.C. is never fully explained in detail, but is only hinted about here and there through the book.
History is another subject that is raised both contextually and philosophically in the book. In fact, this may be the crux of Judson’s point in the novel, to ask the question of how much meaning does one generation give to history and another employs it later? We are never given any answers to this question, but are left in the end to one’s own opinion of it within the pages of the novel.
One distraction in the novel seems to be Bruce’s passivity throughout the book. He is seen as a mild mannered person, whose naïveté is only partially shattered near the end of the book (and never really eradicated). For all of the substantive narration his telling seems to imply, his character seems to have too much of it without much emotive backing. He seems to show more of it later in the book, where his own actions weigh on his conscience, but his passivity caused my suspension of disbelief to wane a bit.
The ending will cause some to ponder and think about the implications of Bruce, Van Buren, Fitzpatrick the Younger, Professor Gerald, the society and history they have created for themselves, and what the possible future holds for them. Judson doesn’t give us the answers to these questions, and that’s what makes this book all the better. It is a thinking man’s Science Fiction; giving us a speculative fiction that has all the ramifications of our own century and problems through the lens of the future without giving away the author’s views. It made Fitzpatrick’s War’ all the more refreshing and caused me to make this a consideration when rating the book in the end.
At the time of the publishing of ‘Fitzpatrick’s War’ (copyright 2004, first paperback edition by Daw, August 2005), it was Theodore Judson’s first novel. I am intrigued if he has put as much detail and energies in further works and will be looking out for him in the future.
Though set six centuries in the future, the technology of the novel reflects a more Steampunk vision of the future; where electric and computerization practically disappears by the Storm Times, a period of revolution, discontent, and complete breakdown of society and government. It is also a period where reconstructing the past, and recovering the technology of the past is practically impossible. Many misunderstandings by both the characters in the memoir and the annotations by the professor are sprinkled about the book. It is also a society which is semi-feudal, with Lords, yet what seems to be a Parliamentary form of government, until the Hitlerian Fitzpatrick the Younger takes over, is mixed in. These factions play out a heart rendering drama of genocide and oppression as the novel progresses. In fact, it is Bruce’s telling of history that Van Buren questions and becomes the basis of the novel’s premise.
It is also a book where we are to judge the truth about the two narrators, Sir Robert Bruce, an engineer and military officer for the Yukon Confederacy, in the twenty-sixth century, and Doctor Professor Roland Modesty Van Buren, the editor of the “present” text of Bruce’s, about two centuries later (There is no date of Bruce’s death, so I have made an approximate guess at the two narrators chronological distance). Van Buren, from the very beginning, derides Bruce’s narrative as a pack of lies. What distinguishes the tone of his annotations and criticisms is something akin to the denunciations of “bourgeoisie living” during the Chinese Cultural Revolution in materials and public confessions. Such instances cover a range of criticism from mild rebuke (‘Fitzpatrick’s war, 462), begrudging caveats of acknowledgements, followed by an experts correction (424), to pure revulsion in branding Bruce a liar (144, Editor’s Afterword, etc.). This has to be weighed by Bruce’s own narrative, which sounds clear cut and reasonable, up until the last chapter, where a grand conspiracy which begs credulity is explained. The thing that keeps this book going is looking at the two narratives and figuring out who is expressing the truth, Bruce or Van Buren, or if Van Buren is not himself a conspirator, as well as a past historian, Professor Gerald, which Van Buren uses as a primary source.
Other things seem to be implicated that is never fully answered. Is the government a quasi-Theocracy? It is interesting how this question was raised on more than one occasion when seeing the cultural perspective of the twenty-sixth century and how they square with the mores and legalism in the novel (275, etc.), and how other religions are marginalized (80) to the domination of the United Yukon Church, or U.Y.C. How government utilizes and consolidates power through the U.Y.C. is never fully explained in detail, but is only hinted about here and there through the book.
History is another subject that is raised both contextually and philosophically in the book. In fact, this may be the crux of Judson’s point in the novel, to ask the question of how much meaning does one generation give to history and another employs it later? We are never given any answers to this question, but are left in the end to one’s own opinion of it within the pages of the novel.
One distraction in the novel seems to be Bruce’s passivity throughout the book. He is seen as a mild mannered person, whose naïveté is only partially shattered near the end of the book (and never really eradicated). For all of the substantive narration his telling seems to imply, his character seems to have too much of it without much emotive backing. He seems to show more of it later in the book, where his own actions weigh on his conscience, but his passivity caused my suspension of disbelief to wane a bit.
The ending will cause some to ponder and think about the implications of Bruce, Van Buren, Fitzpatrick the Younger, Professor Gerald, the society and history they have created for themselves, and what the possible future holds for them. Judson doesn’t give us the answers to these questions, and that’s what makes this book all the better. It is a thinking man’s Science Fiction; giving us a speculative fiction that has all the ramifications of our own century and problems through the lens of the future without giving away the author’s views. It made Fitzpatrick’s War’ all the more refreshing and caused me to make this a consideration when rating the book in the end.
At the time of the publishing of ‘Fitzpatrick’s War’ (copyright 2004, first paperback edition by Daw, August 2005), it was Theodore Judson’s first novel. I am intrigued if he has put as much detail and energies in further works and will be looking out for him in the future.
September 19, 2018
An odd mix of steampunk, future history, and academic footnoting, Fitzpatrick's War is a strange volume. The first-person narrative of the right-hand mand to a 25th-century conqueror (Fitzpatrick of the title), it's almost Victorian feeling in both its world building and its narrative. Indeed, the actual war is effectively over within the space of fifty pages in the middle of the book. What the book explores is the nature of power, how idealism turns to corruption and an exploration of the "great man" theory of history. It's an intriguing read but a frustrating one at times as many of the novel's big events happen "off-camera" as it were, away from the eyes of narrator Robert Bruce. If you have the patience for it, it's a fascinating mix of genres and narrative with sometimes funny footnotes and a plot that makes it a steampunk Game Of Thrones with less sex and no dragons.
June 25, 2020
I don't know why this book isn't more popular. While it does drag a bit in certain parts and lacks the immediate end of civilization urgency of many post apocalyptic books, Fitzpatrick's War paints a realistic and fascinating look at a society formed after the collapse of modern society. The country and events in the book is loosely based off of the Roman Republic and the life of Julius Ceaser, but there are enough caveats to keep it interesting. The main character's development was great as well. finally, the slight sarcastic footnotes were a unique idea that really contributed to the book.
February 17, 2025
A sci-fi look at post liberal America, or a version of it. It drags on at times but I really enjoy the “manuscript from the future” style this has, complete with historian footnotes that are contrarian to Bruce’s memoir. It leaves a feeling of helplessness to the cycles of history and where one stands in the current time. An enjoyable read to wonder about the future.
March 13, 2017
The book started off slow but finished really. Glad I stuck with it.
April 2, 2018
An absolutely charming work of post-apocalyptic / steampunk world building. Highly enjoyable, especially the remarked by the alleged editor who disagrees with the narrative. Highly recommended!
July 5, 2021
I really don’t like first person narrative so it takes an amazing book to keep me reading. This was not one of those.
January 7, 2022
Your mom
March 28, 2023
Enjoyed what I experienced as an original story, from a vivid perspective. Even ten years on I still sometimes think of the characters.
December 10, 2023
Interesting combination science fiction / futuristic / dystopian / Christian novel. I thought the premise was really good, better than the execution in fact. I liked this book.
Want to read
February 2, 2024Martyrmade rec
November 5, 2024
Good but not great. This is all plot and world building. I was never quite interested in the individual characters.
December 4, 2024
Excellent book, but very heavy and lengthy.
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