#sff

Essentially, politically coherent works are works where the political message of the story is supported by all (or at least most) of the major story elements, and a politically incoherent work is a story where the political messages of different elements are seemingly all shooting off on different vectors.

The nice thing about this is it can bypass authorial intent (and the discussion of whether intent matters). This is about the text.

Like, politically incoherent works that had no authorial thought behind them are a dime a dozen of course, and politically coherent works that clearly had a lot of authorial thought are if not equally common than at least easy to spot. But there are also plenty of works that are politically coherent without the author intending them that way—like, whatever faults there are with Project Hail Mary, the overall opinion the book has about the nature of humanity & of science is consistent throughout. Likewise there are stories where the authors clearly meant a coherent political point and totally wiffed it. (The works @specialagentartemis has collectively termed “cozy colonialism” come to mind)

On a fine spring day, an errant young Wolf wandered away from his pack and, in a sunny forest glade, encountered a Hunter.

"Please don't kill me!" said the Wolf, as the Hunter raised his gun. "I'm not here to hurt you!"

"I don't believe you," replied the Hunter. "Everyone knows that wolves are vile, dangerous creatures. You have claws that rip and tear - how can I possibly trust you?"

"If I pull out my claws," said the Wolf, "will you let me go?"

"Of course," said the Hunter. "Why would I lie to you?"

One by one, the Wolf pulled out his claws. The Hunter watched with a lazy smirk, and when the Wolf was done, he lowered his gun.

"I believe you now," said the Hunter. "You're free to go."

"Thank you!" said the Wolf, who tottered home on bloody paws and told his pack of the Hunter's benevolence. "It's only clawed wolves that the hunters don't like," he said. "So long as we remove them, we'll never be shot." And though some wolves disagreed with this, the most fearful of them listened, and soon a third of the pack was clawless.

A month went by, and in due course, the young Wolf found himself once more alone in the forest. A twig cracked behind him, and when he turned, there was the Hunter, his shiny gun at the ready.

"Wait!" said the Wolf. "I've got no claws, remember? I'm not dangerous!."

"I'd like to believe you," the Hunter said, "but last week, I heard that a little girl was mauled by something with big, sharp teeth, and your teeth look pretty sharp to me."

"If I pull out my teeth," said the Wolf, "will you let me go?"

"Of course," said the Hunter. "Why would I lie to you?"

One by one, the Wolf pulled out his teeth. The Hunter watched with silent intent, and when the Wolf was finished, he let his gun droop low.

"I can see you're a well-behaved pup," said the Hunter. "Go, be on your way."

"Thank you!" said the Wolf, and lolloped home, his jaws dripping blood, to tell the pack of the Hunter's caution. "Something with fangs has committed a terrible crime," he said. "So long as we don't look like them, we'll never be mistaken for monsters." And though the eldest wolves exchanged worried looks, the younger ones listened, and soon a third of the pack was toothless, too.

Another month went by, until one day, drinking at his favourite part of the river, the Wolf realised he wasn't alone, and raised his head to see the Hunter walking towards him, his gun once more at the ready.

"This stream is in my territory," the Wolf said, panicked and puzzled. "What are you doing here? I have neither claws nor teeth, and pose no possible threat to you."

"You don't, it's true," said the Hunter, "but many among your pack have both teeth and claws. How am I to trust your good intentions when you associate with such creatures?"

"If I chased away the toothed and clawed members of my pack," said the Wolf, "will you no longer be afraid of me?"

"Of course," said the Hunter. "Why would I lie to you?"

"I'll do it, then," said the Wolf, and when the Hunter gave the nod, he hurried back to his pack, assembled all the obedient wolves, and told them what had to be done. Though some were troubled by the Hunter's presence in their territory, they all agreed it made no sense to have sacrificed their claws and teeth while still associating with those who hadn't - after all, their stance was a principled one, and what good was principle if it wasn't firmly applied? With that, they banded together to chase the other wolves away, and when they were finished, more than a third of the pack was gone.

His task achieved, the Wolf returned to the river, where the Hunter was patiently waiting, and told him the good news.

"It's done!" he said. "The only wolves left are those without claws, or those without teeth, or those without both, like me."

"I'm glad to hear it," said the Hunter. "I hope the others didn't give you too much trouble?"

"Some of them snapped at us, it's true," said the Wolf, "and others swiped at us with their claws. It was frightening; I understand now why you were afraid."

"That's good," said the Hunter, and tipped his hat as he strolled back the way he'd come.

That night, as the remaining wolves lay sleeping, the Hunter and his fellows snuck up on the den and started shooting. The Wolf awoke in terror and confusion to the sound of gunshots and the howls of his dying friends. Desperately, he tried to fight back, but his toothless jaws found no grip on the limbs of the hunters, and his clawless paws left not a dent in their sturdy coats. All too soon, he was knocked to the ground, and as he lay there, panting in fear, the Hunter came and stood over him.

"Why are you doing this?" cried the Wolf. "I did everything you asked!"

The Hunter shrugged. "At the end of the day, a wolf's a wolf. We never could've trusted you."

Horrified, the Wolf asked, "Then why did you have us pull out our claws and remove our teeth and chase away our friends?"

"Because you were strong together," came the reply. "Like this, you're weak."

"But you said you weren't afraid of us!" begged the Wolf.

Book summaries and submitted endorsements below:

This advertisement is for Hell’s Heart, USA Today bestselling author Alexis Hall’s thrilling SFF debut—it’s sapphic Moby-Dick in SPACE! On sale now.

Us: We’re coming over, you better not be chasing the Möbius Beast on a doomed deep space monster hunt led by an unhinged captan I: … 

What’s it about:

(Defining middle aged as "40+"; not counting immortal or slower-aging characters whose apparent / equivalent age is below human middle age; some estimation required.)

A Sorceress Comes to Call by T. Kingfisher

Into the Riverlands by Nghi Vo

The Art of Prophecy by Wesley Chu

Murder by Memory by Olivia Waite

The Village Library Demon Hunting Society by C.M. Waggoner

The Adventures of Amina al-Sirafi by Shannon Chakraborty

The Keeper's Six by Kate Elliott

The Bone Maker by Sarah Beth Durst

Honorable mention goes to Swordheart by T. Kingfisher bc it's a fantastic, hilarious book, but I think the female lead is in her 30's; the misogyny that goes into the people around her treating her like an old maid is part of the story.

I really liked this list from CL Clark of recent SFF with butches and I think it's worth a look. I remember this was some of my hesitation, years ago, about writing sapphic - the first wave of it in mainstream SFF felt like a lot of unthreatening femme4femme, which of course is an important part of the ecosystem, but it felt like that was all that publishers were letting through, and I just didn't have any of those stories in me.

I once tried to list recent SFF butches unprepared on a panel, and after Gideon, The Unspoken Name and The Unbroken I just... ran out (there are others, some of that's on me).