Covington: a year after his death

On July 17, 2018 Harold Covington died.

In my brief obituary of a year ago I did not want to speak out about my disagreements with the novelist. The reason is that his quartet of novels about the creation of a white republic, in what is now the United States, helped me to finish recovering my self-esteem.

I say quartet, and not quintet, because in his fifth novel of the series Covington’s feminism would in no way help any Aryan male to recover his self-image crushed by the System. On the contrary: the blatant feminism of his last novel demoralises the male as I have already explained. (*)

I said above that Covington helped me finish recovering my self-image. While the authors who have spoken of family tragedies had helped me to give voice to the wounded child that many of us carry inside (the yin aspect of our minds), those authors ignored manhood (the Yang complement). And in the process of recovering manhood, in 2010 I was certainly helped by Covington’s quartet, which I read after listening to The Turner’s Diaries in the voice of William Pierce.

A year after Covington’s death I feel freer to talk about the dark side of the novelist. Covington’s case resembles, in a way, that of James Mason: who, like Covington, always fantasised about a racial revolution but that—like Covington—his ink did not pass into gunpowder.

But this is not what my criticism of Covington is aiming at because, since 1945, there have not been enough soldiers to start a war against the anti-white System. What I object of Covington are his character assassinations. From the beginning of the 1990s he defamed Ben Klassen by saying that Klassen had ordered the killing of a man. Also, in his first novel of the quartet, The Hill of the Ravens (2003), Covington has William Pierce as an informant of the FBI!

Covington was basically, as I said, a novelist. Due to his great character flaws it would have been unthinkable to have him as commander-in-chief of the civilian guerrilla.

I never met Covington but before I was disappointed we shared some correspondence. On one occasion, Covington modified a comment of mine on his blog. I had said something relatively neutral about Hadding Scott but Covington changed my words with a critical phrase about Scott, without warning me. The result: Scott was left with a bad impression of me. I thought that a fellow capable of doing that would behave in the same way with his freedom fighters if he captained the guerrilla war. In other words, Harold A. Covington was completely different, in real life, to the honourable characters in his novels that created the white republic.

For those who want to know the details of the scoundrel behaviours of Covington I suggest Hadding Scott’s blog Setting the Record Straight. All this said, I still recommend The Brigade as an essential novel for the freedom fighter of the future. It’s a better form of escapism than the HBO series that I’ve been talking about recently on this blog.

To see my excerpts from The Brigade click: here.

____________

(*) My wild conjecture is that old Covington was so starved of sex that he sincerely believed that his novels would attract some females for him: a tactic that, as we know, ended in a grotesque fiasco with porn star Corinna Burt (a.k.a Axis Sally).