Mark Butterworth is a California author with nine books to his credit on Amazon.com, including such intriguing titles as My Inferiors and A Man with Three Great German Shepherds (and 1000 troy ounces of gold). I Like the White World provides further proof he is not cut out for Oprah’s book club or the Times Literary Supplement. Yet the book is not an in-your-face white nationalist fantasy in the vein of Jack’s War or Tales of New America. The central character, Tom Mason, is not a white nationalist at all, but a Christian filmmaker trying to survive in the hostile surroundings of Hollywood. He is an attractive fellow with an attractive wife and two beautiful children. He must support them, of course, but is hampered by moral and religious principle from playing according to Hollywood’s rules. His wife does not sympathize with these inhibitions.
Tom makes a low-budget Christian movie with mostly volunteer actors that is successful by the standards of its niche market: “with box office receipts, DVD sales, pay per view sales, all the ancillary markets, I guess Blessed Shepherd Church cleared around two and a half million.” When it becomes clear that his superiors consider a simple thank-you adequate payment for this achievement, he resigns.
Despite a successful film on his resume, he runs into difficulties finding another position. His wife is not sympathetic: “She came at my with the ‘why didn’t you consult me first?’ umbrage-taking line of reasoning. ‘Why?’ Simple. Because I’m the man and I do what’s best for us according to my lights.” Under pressure to keep his wife happy, he calls his father for advice.
But his father has been worrying him lately. Tom sounds almost apologetic explaining it to readers: “his opinions of the world have taken a decided turn into the realm of, geez, I don’t know how to describe this because I don’t want to be mean to my father, he’s a sweet guy (sort of), but his politics have gotten ethnic.”
Driving through affluent Orange county together one day, Dad remarks:
You know what? I look around at this and think—I like the white world. I like being white. Some people look at this and say it’s somehow sterile, all this gleaming cleanness, but it’s not cold or sterile. It’s organized and orderly. I like that because I’m organized and orderly. That’s who I come from. That’s what my people do—good, smart, white people.
What’s wrong with organized and orderly, anyway? Fifties white bread? I love the Fifties. That’s when America was at its best and its height. White bread? Delicious! It’s so delicious no toast in the world tastes as good as white bread toast.
So, yeah, I like the white world; and our towns, cities when they’re like this; and our inventions and food, and anybody who says otherwise can go screw themselves. Organized and orderly. I like the white world.
Tom is suitably embarrassed:
I don’t quite know what to do with my dad because, as a Christian, anyone can become a member of the Body of Christ no matter race or culture. I can’t say I prefer white Christian towns, cities and states more than brown or black ones, can I, and not be something of a failure at my faith?
(Thank heaven Charles Martel never got the memo.)
Over the course of the novel, Tom’s wife leaves him for a rich, mainstream Hollywood mogul, and Tom grows closer to his father. There are also scenes involving Tom’s father with the children. Grandpa teaches them to shoot, relates the story of the family’s Puritan ancestors and corrects their multicultural textbook notions about the peaceful, environmentally-conscious Indians such ancestors are said to have oppressed.
Clearly, Mark Butterworth’s novel has the potential to appeal to a certain kind of reader who would only be put off by a racial revenge fantasy like Jack’s War. It is only 151 pages long and sells for $8.99 at Amazon. Not a bad gift idea for friends or family who think you have lost your mind since you got involved in white nationalism.