“An Avalanche of Storytelling”: The White Supremacist Plan to Save the West with White Advocacy Fiction

In the battle for American attention, reality faces some major challenges. Far-right governors like Ron DeSantis forbid teachers from mentioning well-documented phenomena like systemic racism, while the Trump administration denies decades of cultural and scientific progress by mandating the acceptance of only two genders and removing references to man-made climate change from the EPA website.

Meanwhile, mainstreamed Pentecostalism and charismatic Christianity normalize claims that sound more like scenes from Faustus than from the shared realities of today. Vice President JD Vance says demons are visiting us in the night sky, and media personality Tucker Carlson claims to have experienced a demonic vexation in bed. While Colorado’s TPUSA-affiliated Republican gubernatorial candidate Victor Marx tries to skirt the label “exorcist,” he claims to have commanded demons to unattach themselves from demonically oppressed people, at home and abroad, in person and by phone.

In April, FEMA official Gregg Phillips claimed to have been teleported 40 or 50 miles to a North Georgia Waffle House, and at another time to a rural ditch. After some devastating New York Times reportage, this was a bridge (or a wormhole) too far for Trump, who denied knowing anything about it. Trips across time and space are the devil’s work in Faustus, but some of today’s far-right figures adopt this narrative to present themselves as instruments of God. Phillips—podcasting J6er, election denier, conspiracist—admonished naysayers on Truth Social: “The more accurate biblical terms are ‘translated’ or ‘transported’ — not new ideas for people of faith.” Phillips insists on the true source of his “journeys.”

Authors of far-right fiction are getting in on this as well. Canadian pulp writer K.M. Breakey, a Toronto-born software industry worker who now writes for the movement full time, is in the process of self-publishing a new series of white Christian nationalist sci-fi novels. The protagonist in Breakey’s First World Adventures in Time and Space is sent back in time by God to restore better, whiter days. The first in the series, Britain on the Brink (2025) presents such ‘transportations’—using the same word insisted upon by Gregg Phillips—as divinely guided journeys through which “a new hero emerges in the fight to save the West.”

Though extremist literature is not new, in this article I highlight some current fiction writers and platforms cultivating a white nationalist audience, including children and young adults.

Though extremist literature is not new, in this article I highlight some current fiction writers and platforms cultivating a white nationalist audience, including children and young adults. K. M. Breakey is among a number of authors stocking conservative and white nationalist websites with content while branching out into far-right fiction. Like Breakey’s nine novels, such books are often in the sci-fi or alternate history genres. White heroes fight against immigration, DEI, and “cultural Marxism” to restore traditional society in settings throughout Canada, Australia, Ireland, South Africa, and the United States. They typically share the characteristics and ur-themes used by Amazon reviewers to describe Mike Stone’s 2017 novel A New America: The First Novel of the Alt-Right: an “easy to follow,” “fast-paced, exciting” story that is “patriotic, pro-morality, and pro-Christian.”

Columnist and 2025 NatCon speaker Kurt Schlichter has self-published numerous “dystopian conservative action novels”; his 2025 American Apocalypse: The Second American Civil War has 1,000 Amazon ratings, with American Warlord forthcoming from Ark Press. Anti-semitic propagandist and former Breitbart employee Mike Mahoney has two racist novels under the name “Mike Ma,” which have also attracted over 1,000 ratings and many supportive reviews. The “politically incorrect” American writer pseudonymously known as Spencer J. Quinn provides extensive content for Counter-currents and creates white supremacist fiction for children and young adults. Such books—self-published through Amazon.com or picked up by small white supremacist presses—are reviewed by their fanbase on Amazon and Goodreads and promoted on white nationalist sites like American Renaissance, Counter-currents, and Unz Review. 

“The Hell They Were Living In”  

Britain on the Brink is anchored in cosmopolitan 2025 England. Breakey’s protagonist Jack Campbell, an executive at the fictional Unibank, finds much to complain about: tracksuits and trainers; kebabs and curry houses; slutty women and gay kids; diverse office and sports teams; foreign names and accents. Losses and indignations caused by non-white immigrants, liberal policies, and even foreign cars punctuate modern life.

In the first chapter, “White Male ‘Privilege,’” Jack submits to a training administered by “a black female” who receives “great gobs of money to shit on everything in sight, especially white people.” This “Orwellian torture session” illustrates the “insidious woke-ism beast” infecting corporate culture. DEI “may eventually destroy its host”—that is to say, the “once-alpha species known as the white male” of which Jack Campbell is “the archetype.” But help is on the horizon. The book’s advertisement promises a protagonist “transported” to “strange alternate worlds” with an “opportunity to change the course of history.” These “alternate worlds” are simply earlier decades when, according to the novel’s refrain, Britain was nearly all white: “Precious England as she once was.”

In the second chapter, Jack says, “I wish I could go back to the England of old.” In short order, he is inside a tunnel whizzing past historic people and events. He arrives outside Wembley Stadium in time for the 1966 World Cup and spends a day experiencing “the real England” when the influx of global migration had only just begun. Later, he will recall 1960s England as a “world of purity and honor” among “kith and kin.” Mourning for “dystopian modern England,” he reflects on how “most of today’s British had little awareness of what had been taken from them.” With this, Jack recognizes his mission: “Everything suddenly made sense. The meaning of the experience was in his consciousness, and he was at one with it. Bright light filled his vision.” He addresses God: “Thank you for this blessed experience.”

Subsequent chapters establish the stakes. Jack’s friends gather at the pub without their wives (“untouched by the progressive Zeitgeist”), but reports of a knife attack at a nearby elementary school—by a perpetrator they assume is Muslim—start a debate. Jack’s best mate Ozzie expresses Breakey’s nativism, while Jack’s childhood friend Eddie is the professor parroting progressivism (and inexplicably still hanging around these other guys). When Eddie suggests that anyone born in Britain is British, Ozzy clarifies, “I’m talking indigenous British…shared history, shared blood, shared DNA. I trace me name and me family to the Middle Ages. I’m Anglo-Saxon to the core.”

When Eddie says immigration is “what Britain committed to when she established her empire,” Ozzy retorts, “We sailed the seven seas and brought civilization to the savages,” reeling off a white man’s burden list of England’s gifts to benighted nations. “Now,” he charges, “you want to give our country away so you can feel good about yourself.” When Eddie insists they should “share” the country, Ozzy leans on white prerogative—“We never voted for it”—and the immigrant crime narrative—“We never used to have acid attacks and grooming.” The early chapters purport, with just enough action to prop up the rhetoric, that “every ethnic Brit was starting to realize the hell they were living in.” Though better than Mark Mazari’s “white identitarian sonnets,” Breakey’s literary effort only reaches the level of Great Replacement propaganda.

White Nationalist Textual Networking

In one subplot, Jack’s visits to 1960s England radicalize a writer named Charles Winthrop. While explaining Great Replacement theory and the “unspeakable horrors” of unchecked immigration, Jack tells Winthrop about a book to be published in 1973, Jean Raspail’s The Camp of the Saints. Later, in 1997 New York, Jack finds Winthrop discussing a book he is supposed to have written many years earlier, a book he named The Great Replacement. French writer Renaud Camus did not publish Le Grand Remplacement until 2011; in this fantasy, an influential text emerges decades early, and its authorship is transferred to a Britain that has avoided the fate of other Western nations. In another twist, Winthrop’s 1990s audience does not know The Camp of the Saints: though his imaginary Great Replacement was banned and disappeared from print, its existence made Camp’s dark vision of a Europe overrun by migrants unnecessary.

Today, of course, on our real timeline, white advocates still study it: readers may recall Stephen Miller pushing conspiracy site Breitbart News to elevate the book in 2015. This April, Amazon temporarily stopped selling a popular new English translation due to “offensive content”—but it is now available on the site once more, and American publisher Vauban sells it on their website where readers can encounter a trove of other white nationalist texts in translation. Stories such as Britain on the Brink also sustain its reputation. 

A third text referenced by Breakey is more well known in the UK than in the US: anti-immigrant politician Enoch Powell’s 1968 “Rivers of Blood” speech. Discovering that Powell’s rhetoric has softened when they meet in the 1970s, Jack shows him images of the 2024 Magdeburg attack and explains that the government “turns a blind eye” to Muslim crime syndicates raping English children “by the tens of thousands.” When Jack admonishes, “you’re in the early days of a malicious mass immigration experiment,” Powell agrees to act before it is too late for the unsuspecting English.

Powell’s funeral only three years later validates their meeting. Powell died of cancer in 1998; here his demise, martyred by the government, is greatly accelerated. One funeralgoer recalls a fictional statement from Powell—whose followers “loved him in the way MAGA loyalists love Donald Trump”—that “fascism is the best defense against communism.” Sharing core texts allows Jack to combat the persistent problem that “our people don’t fight back,” a concern shared in American Renaissance founder Jared Taylor’s essay collection, If We Do Nothing. Here, Breakey’s protagonist shows readers the potential of white advocacy—of doing something. More than a cheesy sci-fi device, it is an inducement to act in the current timeline.

Here, Breakey’s protagonist shows readers the potential of white advocacy—of doing something. More than a cheesy sci-fi device, it is an inducement to act in the current timeline.

Britain on the Brink rapidly concludes when Jack and Ozzie—now time-travelling together—run across their 1960s selves at an English pub. Having confirmed their veritable erasure from 2025, they plot once more to change history. Jack muses: “If only we could change the Zeitgeist” and “make it acceptable to stand up for Brits.” Soon, just as his prayers were answered in Chapter 2, Jack receives a vision. This time he sees Rhodesia, “a land said to be more English than England herself.” As the pair decide to go to Africa and then on to the United States, Jack speaks the book’s final words: “If we do things right, eventually we’re gonna save them all.” This tees up the rest of the First World Adventures in Time and Space series in which Jack and Ozzy—a white male alliance across class boundaries—take their dream of cultural revanchism worldwide.

“An Avalanche of Storytelling”

Breakey advocates for producing more white nationalist literature. In October 2025, his American Renaissance review entitled “Young Adult Race Realist Fiction” praised Spencer J. Quinn for his “No College Club” series, published by The White People’s Press in 2022 and Counter-Currents in 2024. (Quinn was also interviewed by Counter-Currents in 2022). Breakey elevates him for “bring[ing] a new perspective to the YA genre, one rooted in race realism.”

In such novels, white teens see heroic possibilities in pushing back against the way their Black teachers talk about slavery and against teaching CRT in high school. Breakey sends a clarion call:

One of Breakey’s earlier novels, All Thy Sons (2019), dramatizes a Great Replacement scenario in Canada, “a hellish future of chaos and racial violence.” Though Breakey was not confident his book could “save” Western civilization, he wrote, “at least I can document its demise.” In an American Renaissance review, contributor Paul Kersey (who also interviewed Breakey for Unz Review) compared the book to The Camp of the Saints and commended Breakey: 

Kersey’s comments are not unlike the end of Britain on the Brink. “If enough of us unite,” he writes, “we can avoid the dystopia Mr. Breakey describes so well.” 

“Re-remember the Greatness”

In his 2012 letter to readers, Jared Taylor optimistically stated that “race realism is clearly spreading” as online pathways bring new followers, including children. It is the same with Breakey. An article he wrote about himself for American Thinker in 2025 articulated his purpose:  

Quinn explained his own intention “to give comfort and entertainment to our people” while awaiting “a crisis in the West”:  

These authors contribute to the dream of a transnational league of white advocates recapturing so-called white nations—the former parts of the British Empire featured in Breakey’s books—with cultural texts rejected by the mainstream. Novels and audiobooks from the likes of Breakey and Quinn are accessible and purpose-driven; their questionable literary and entertainment value is far less important than their capacity to deliver the message of the movement to a generation of new readers.

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Laura Jeffries is Professor of English at Florida State College at Jacksonville, where she teaches British literature, literary responses to imperialism, and writing about contexts of American race and ethnicity. Publications include articles situating Kipling’s “The White Man’s Burden” in its original American magazine provenance along with its afterlife in white supremacist meme culture; the intersections of British religious and political history; and language use among young women posting on YouTube. She writes Narrative Nation on Substack and is developing a book titled “Loads of Heresy”: Far Right Revisions of the American Narrative.  Contact: laurakjeffries@gmail.com.

Image made using “Material Culture Left by the Unite the Kingdom Rally 2025 (11),” by Doyle of London licensed under CC Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International. Other images used are in the public domain.