After The Revolution / Robert Evans / 2022

After The Revolution / Robert Evans / 2022

I’m a longtime fan of Behind the Bastards Podcast host Robert Evans. While I generally respect his podcast and use it to sharpen my historical understanding and build my spiritual toughness, I wasn’t sure if I could trust him as a novelist. I started listening to After the Revolution on a whim while I was at the airport after avoiding it for a couple of years. I was immediately gripped by the novel. It’s a smart-paced war drama situated in a fractured post-United States, featuring a cyborg nation (Rolling Fuck), civil war torn Texas, a crazy fascist Christian state, and a remnant of the United States called the Federation. After the Revolution follows three characters, each of whom have a deep connection to Robert Evans’ personal history. First, there’s a teenage girl and Christian zealot who runs away from home to join a fascist Christian nation’s army; here Evans is clearly channeling his youthful, religiously devout, conservative past. Next, there’s a fixer in Texas territory, helping a war journalist safely navigate a warzone; Evans himself was once a war journalist and you can hear him processing his sense of guilt and struggle with the ethics of war journalism through his empathy and voicing of the fixer character. Lastly, there’s a drug-addled cyborg with a dark past; here, Evans is clearly channeling his own experiences with a range of drugs; the dude literally has a book on all the different drugs he has tried. All these characters struggle to navigate a complicated war, make heartrending decisions, watch loved ones die, and most importantly, wrestle with the ethics of war. It’s a difficult novel to write effectively, but Evans is character driven and rarely lets his pen stray too far into unwieldy philosophical territory. I was constantly itching to return to this book and neglected others I was supposed to be reading for it. Evans’ vision of the future is as playful as it is prophetic. With characters like SkullFucker Mike, it’s nice to know Evans’ isn’t taking himself too seriously, while delivering some seriously fascinating and insightful visions of what our country may very well become. 4.5/5

The Women's War / Robert Evans / March 2020

Radio journalist Robert Evans is one of my problematic faves. His claim to fame is his equal parts horrifying and hilarious history podcast Behind the Bastards, where he and a comedian delve through the tangled and twisted backstories of the worst people in history. His podcast includes deep dives into Saddam Hussein’s erotic novels and the astrologer who managed the Reagan presidency, for example. Evans’s journalistic style is penetrative and cynical in the same way Charles Bowden is penetrative and cynical, only what Evans lacks in poetry he makes up for in bitter humor. The show’s forays into the worst that mankind has to offer is deeply educational, teaching me more about history and humanity than my high school history classes ever did. On a personal level, I appreciate a solid analysis on difficult parts of history because it’s darkly comforting to see my life in perspective. My problems can seem so big until they are placed on a larger landscape.

That said, sometimes Robert isn’t the best narrator for a given story. His episode on “The Complete Insane History of American Border Militias” is case in point. I listened to the episodes begrudgingly sifting the useful information on border militias while gagging on the hacked, hackneyed ironic liberal jokes that left an icky feeling in my stomach. The comedians on the show have no easy task—they literally have to spin jokes out of genocides and the like. But the smarter guests either find a way to forge genuinely hilarious perspectives of the dark material or somberly/soberly realize they should stop kidding around.

Evans’s latest podcast The Women’s War steps on similarly difficult territory. At best, it is a fraught and probing introduction to Rojava, the feminist anarchist stateless region in northeast Syria, known to most Americans as simply the Kurds. At worst, it is a piece of war tourism that spreads misconceptions about one of the most complicated regions of the world. For The Women’s War, Evans joined a british journalist on a trip to Rojava to learn whether Rojava is truly the anarchist feminist revolutionary stronghold it is portrayed as in some leftist media.

Those who expect strict objectivity and professionalism from their journalists will likely be disappointed by Evans’s antics throughout the show. Fans of Evans’s will get more of his wry down-to-earth observations and self-deprecating style. He openly discusses getting drunk and being hungover during parts of his trip, for example, and even commemorates the trip with a tattoo on the podcast. One of the most disappointing moment, however, came when Evans’s talked about feeling most frustrated by borders when he got caught up at a border stop for a few extra hours. It’s an obvious point of privilege if your greatest frustration with a border is the few hours it has taken from your day, rather than family separation or the lost life of your loved one.

Faux paus and disclaimers aside, the podcast is profoundly moving, as it successfully simplifies the complicated backstory behind Rojava for listeners who aren’t political theorists or global studies scholars. Evans’s narrates a complicated gender landscape, full of women wearing niqabs, women packing heat, sometimes at the same time. Underpinning the experiment in Rojava is the belief that the first form of totalitarianism is man’s subjugation of women, which began in the formation of the first city states. Evans’s fixer, Habat, is an inspiring woman, whose liveliness, tenacity, and sharp eye are evident in the various clips they include of her perspectives and observations. I particularly appreciated an analysis of the Venus of Willendorf as an anatomically correct figure of a pregnant woman used by ancient medical professionals. Male scholars had reduced the artifact to a mere erotica.

Most inspiring is the region’s attempts at restorative justice. The maximum penalty for anyone in Rojava is 20 years in prison. It’s moving to see people attempt to create a system that truly believes in socially reforming people most of us would rather exile or cast aside as criminals or terrorists. Here, Evans’s critical eye is especially appreciated, as he questions and considers this ideological stance thoroughly, even ending his podcast with a predictably frustrating conversation with Isis brides imprisoned in Rojava. It is incredible that the only people in the world who seem willing to experiment/execute some of the most complex and hopeful forms of justice are literally under siege by Turkey, Isis, among other groups, and drastically under-resourced compared to many nations across the globe.

Lastly, I appreciated Evans’s situating his podcast in a longer history of anti-imperialism. He shapes the emotional landscape of the project by alluding to two revolutionary songs in particular:

Bella Ciao:

Go Home British Soldiers:

For those unaccustomed to the grisly details of war and subjugation, listening to this podcast will be difficult. I recommend it for anyone interested in global studies, anarchism, feminism, and the Middle East. For those who would prefer to learn about Rojava without a white american man filtering the information, Pratik Raghu, a doctoral candidate in Global Studies at UCSB recommended the graphic novel Kobane Calling: Greetings from Northern Syria by Zerocalcare, A Small Key Can Open a Large Door, and Burn Down the American Plantation by the Revolutionary Abolitionist Movement (AK Press).