In Ford’s speculative novel, a man is torn between two contrasting post-apocalyptic worlds.

When readers first encounter Peter, an everyman action hero, he’s launching himself at a deadly saber-toothed tiger who’s had the temerity to come prowling around Peter’s adopted family’s dwelling looking for a meal. The scene is harrowing, the stakes are pulse-poundingly high—and readers don’t even know who Peter is yet. From there, the author slowly reveals the setting—the realm of Ecologia—and Peter’s tenuous place in it. The time period is not initially established, but it eventually becomes clear that there’s been a nuclear war and that the Earth is now divided into two cultures. Ecologia is nothing more than a giant-game preserve where human beings exist in a near-Paleolithic state, fighting to survive off the land. The other world—Peter’s homeworld—is called Economica, and it looks a lot like our own, but with more advanced tech and even greater governmental suppression. (“Balance was restored by the establishment of the two Realms, Ecologia and Economica, to be forever held separated for the preservation of Gaia, our Mother Earth.”) Peter has discovered an undetected portal between Economica and Ecologia, and he uses it to easily travel back and forth in secret whenever the spirit moves him. He has an important decision to make when his access to the portal is set to close: Should he remain in Ecologia or return home to Economica? It’s an intriguing premise, and Ford compellingly draws overt parallels between Peter’s quandary and the very real questions facing contemporary society with the rise of Artificial Intelligence and ever-increasing automation. In the face of the cold authoritarianism depicted here, battling the stray saber-toothed tiger now and then might not seem that bad (especially when you’re got a supportive family around you and a wild and an untamable beauty pledged to keep you warm at night). If there is a downside to Ford’s provocative yarn, it’s that there seems to be a lot more potential to explore.

An enjoyable adventure that poses provocative questions.

In Ford’s dystopian satire, moral certainty becomes a weapon and safety is enforced with the efficiency of a police state.

Professor Jim Hubbings, a weary pharmacologist, navigates a society in which institutions loudly proclaim “Zero tolerance for promotion of hate. No exceptions,” even as the definition of hate shifts constantly and oppressively. From the opening pages, Hubbings is confronted by mobs, defaced posters, and campus security reciting the mantra “You know perfectly well, there is ‘No Free Speech for Hate.’” His attempts to defend nuance are treated as suspicious: “It must be possible for someone to challenge the orthodox position,” he argues, only to be met with panic and accusations of complicity. University committees wield “academic accuracy” as a tool of suppression, with colleagues insisting, “We must hold the line. Zero tolerance for hate,” even when no actual hatred is present. At home, Hubbings’s daughter, Amelia, becomes a casualty of the ideological regime—her school penalizes her simply for reading a romance novel, with administrators warning that she must undergo “anti-hate training” before her online access can be restored. Amelia’s confusion highlights the book’s central tension: “It’s funny because it is supposed to be anti-hate, but they tell you people who are supposed to be terrible like you’re supposed to hate them.” The novel widens its scope as Hubbings becomes entangled with political extremists, underground enforcers, and government agencies that monitor even innocent walks past restricted zones. Headlines scream “Cesspit of Hate,” protest groups clash, and both sides increasingly mirror each other’s intolerance. Characters debate gender ideology, censorship, social contagion, and propaganda, often revealing how institutions exploit fear to justify expanding control. Ford’s worldbuilding is precise, bleakly humorous, and disturbingly plausible. Bureaucratic rituals, biased committees, and coded language create a suffocating sense of inevitability. A health care setting meant to help patients becomes another arena where dialogue is criminalized; Hubbings reflects that once someone is labelled as trans, “no adult is allowed to discuss this… lest they be accused of conversion therapy.”

A razor-edged vision of society.