The Overton Window
by Glenn Beck with contributions from Kevin Balfe, Emily Bestler, and Jack Henderson
Simon & Schuster Threshold Editions / Mercury Radio Arts
June 15, 2010
336 Pages
ISBN-10: 1439184305
Kindle Books Edition:
288 Pages

The Overton Window book cover

As an author who as early as 1987 handed out my booklet titled Here Come the Paperless Books! at the yearly convention of the American Booksellers Association — let me say that I read The Overton Window on my Windows computer using’s free Kindle-reading application, having ordered the Kindle Book edition of The Overton Window with One-Click shopping from the Kindle Store.

I was reading the novel seconds after ordering it. — JNS

It’s probably no surprise to anyone who’s read my books, but I’m a long-time fan of what might best be called the Paranoid Thriller.

“Paranoid Thriller” isn’t a book publishing category. You won’t find such a classification in the Library of Congress, or in the shelving system of Borders or Barnes and Noble. has the most cross-referenced indexing system of any bookseller I can think of and even it doesn’t seem to have that as a sub-category of fiction.

Technically — because these stories are often set in the “near future” or “the day after tomorrow” or sometimes in an alternate history — the Paranoid Thriller is a sub-genre of science fiction. But usually, beyond the element of political speculation, there are none of the usual tropes of science fiction — extraterrestrials, space, time, or dimensional travel, artificial intelligence, biological engineering, new inventions, scientists as action heroes, virtual realities, and so forth.

I’m sure even this list shows what an old fogey I am when it comes to what’s being published as science-fiction these days, which within the publishing genre has abandoned all those cardinal literary virtues of clarity, kindness to the reader, and just good storytelling in favor of all those fractal fetishes that previously made much of “mainstream” fiction garbage unworthy of reading: dysfunctional characters, an overwhelming sense of helplessness and despair, and of course hatred of anything ever accomplished to better the entire human race by old dead European-extraction white men.

The Paranoid Thriller is an atavistic throwback to earlier forms of literature. There are suspense plots, adventure, a focus on characters driven to make decisions by intellect rather than addiction, and — God bless them! — often enough a happy ending after you’ve ploughed through the wreckage caused by the miserable wretches who actually make life decisions based on the gulf oil sludge that passes for literature in those committees who for the last few decades have been passing out once-worthy awards to writers who if they tried to tell a story around a campfire would soon find themselves alone, talking to the coyotes.

And with some poetic justice eaten by them.

The Paranoid Thriller is not actually based on any emotion, much less fear. The Paranoid Thriller is specifically a type of intellectual libertarian literature, the purpose of which is to sound a clarion call to wake up the sleepwalkers among us who have been hypnotized by government-run schools, socialist-dominated universities, misanthropic organs of popular culture, and cynical destroyers of all sense of public honor or decorum for fun, profit, and sick love of power.

The Paranoid Thriller is the literature of liberation — and often enough, the cinema of liberation as well.

The Paranoid Thriller is step-brother to the Dystopian novel, such as Yvgeny Zamyatin’s We, Ayn Rand’s Anthem, Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World, and George Orwell’s Nineteen-eighty-four, and brother to the espionage novel — everything from Ian Fleming’s James Bond novels to John Le Carre and Tom Clancy’s spy novels; and at least kissing cousin to alternate history thrillers like Brad Linaweaver’s 1988 Prometheus Award-winning novel, Moon of Ice, about a Cold War not between the United States and the Soviet Union but between a non-interventionist libertarian United States and a victorious Nazi Germany.

Some good examples of the Paranoid Thriller?

In books, let’s start with Sinclair Lewis’s 1935 novel It Can’t Happen Here, the story of an American president who rises to power by enforcing a Mussolini-type fascism in America, published three years after the movie Gabriel Over the White House enthusiastically endorsed such a presidency, well into the presidency of Franklin Delano Roosevelt who did it for real, and a year after Adolf Hitler became the Führer of Germany.

Three years before Jack Finney’s novel The Body Snatchers was serialized in Colliers, Robert A. Heinlein’s 1951 Doubleday hardcover novel, The Puppet Masters crossed genre between futuristic science-fiction and the Paranoid Thriller — in effect creating an entire new genre of Paranoid Science-Fiction Horror — in which unlike H.G. Wells’ invaders from Mars in The War of the Worlds who had the decency to exterminate you, the alien invaders instead jumped onto your back and controlled your brain making you their zombie.

But then again, Heinlein had already created the Ultimate Paranoid Thrillers in his 1941 short story “They” and 1942 novella “The Unpleasant Profession of Jonathan Hoag” — over a-half-century before The Wachowski Brothers’ 1999 movie The Matrix — in which the entire world is a vast conspiracy to convince one man of its reality.

Jumping two decades forward I’ll use as my next example Ayn Rand’s 1957 epic Atlas Shrugged, in which the Soviet-refugee author warned how the United States — by following the path of a kindler, gentler socialism — could end up as the fetid garbage dump that had devolved from her once European-bound Mother Russia.

The Cold War gave us several classic Paranoid Thrillers about either attempts at — or successful — Soviet communist takeovers of the United States.

We had Richard Condon’s 1959 brilliantly ironic novel — adapted into a wonderful movie in 1962 — The Manchurian Candidate, about a Soviet agent who controls both her son — a brainwashed assassin — and her husband, an anti-Communist United States Senator loosely based on Joseph McCarthy who comes close to securing his party’s nomination for president.

Less well known were the pseudonymous Oliver Lange’s 1971 novel Vandenberg, about a Soviet takeover of the United States, or In the Heat of the Night author John Ball’s 1973 Soviet takeover novel, The First Team, in which a single undetected American nuclear submarine holds the hope for forcing the Soviets out of their occupation of America.

Likewise, fears of appeasement of the Soviet Union led to Fletcher Knebel and Charles W. Bailey II’s 1962 novel, Seven Days in May, about a Pentagon General’s attempt to overthrow the President — which two years later Rod Serling adapted into a Burt Lancaster/ Kirk Douglas movie directed by John Frankenheimer, who two years earlier had directed Frank Sinatra, Laurence Harvey, Janet Leigh, and Angela Lansbury in The Manchurian Candidate.

Television gave us the classic Patrick McGoohan 1967-1968 paranoid thriller TV series, The Prisoner, granddaddy to all the knock-offs of people kidnapped by mysterious forces and transported to gilded cages and danger-filled islands.

Movies gave us:

The Parallax View (1974)
Twilight’s Last Gleaming (1977)
Rollover (1981)
Red Dawn (1984)
JFK (1991)
Wag the Dog (1997)
Murder at 1600 (1997)
The Siege (1998)
Arlington Road (1999)
Josie and the Pussycats (2001)

Yes, Josie and the Pussycats — though played as a comedy — eminently qualifies for the genre.

I could go on and on — Wired-magazine-founder Louis Rosetto, Jr.’s pre-Watergate-written Paranoid Thriller novel of President Nixon’s coup d’etats, Takeover — published in January 1974 just six months before Nixon was forced from office; John Ross’s 1996 post-Waco/post Oklahoma City bombing novel Unintended Consequences.

In that sub-genre of the Economic Paranoid Thriller we have financial writer Paul E. Erdman’s 1976 Paranoid Thriller The Crash of ’79 (Erdman had good reason to be paranoid — he’d served time in a Swiss prison for financial fraud); and Nixon-administration economic mavens Herbert Stein and his son Benjamin Stein’s 1977 novel of America suffering from hyperinflation, On the Brink.

My own 1979 novel, Alongside Night, just misses being in the Paranoid Thriller category only because hyperinflation and government conspiracy is only the launching point for a novel which is mostly an exploration of how the principles of the Declaration of Independence might be implemented by a “new guard” other than re-upping the Constitution of the United States after its failure to maintain a limited government — as is the endgame of Atlas Shrugged and the novel I come here today to review, The Overton Window.

Let me start by saying that everything the mainstream critics will say about this novel is true. It’s talky. I expect the words “preachy” and “didactic” to be used a lot. There are long speeches — even by the main villain, who like many destructive people are disappointed idealists. Events of the novel seem to have been picked not because they advance the plot but because they’re popular topics in the news. It quotes the Founding Fathers as if they’d written the Bible.

Screw these critics all to hell. These are what make a novel worth reading.

Why in the name of God would anyone waste a moment of their precious reading time on a novel that doesn’t have ideas, doesn’t have characters who are capable of making coherent speeches, doesn’t have an author who thinks he knows something worthwhile and has a passion to gift you with them?

What the mainstream literary critics use to condemn novels like The Overton Window are the very virtues that makes them literature.

Think I’m sounding defensive here?

No, I’m on the offense, and have been ever since these same bogus standards were used by uncreative drones to make lame attacks on my novels, three decades ago.

Here’s how I answered them in my article “There Are Two Sides to Every Review” published August 10, 1980 in the Los Angeles Times Book Review:

1. “The writing is heavy-handed.”

The author says things explicitly.

2. “The story is melodramatic.”

The book is strongly plotted.

3. “The plot is contrived.”

The plot is original and intricately logical.

4. “The novel is polemical.”

The novel has a discernible theme.

5. “The novel is preachy.”

The theme phrases a moral proposition.

6. “The book’s intent is didactic.”

The plot demonstrates practical consequences of the theme.

7. “The author manipulates characters.”

The characters do things that fit into the plot.

8. “The characters are two-dimensional.”

The characters are only shown doing things that fit into the plot.

9. “The book is Pollyannish.”

The author finds things in life that make it worth living.

10. “The story depends upon coincidence.”

Events in the story logically coincide.

11. “The book is a roman à clef.”

The characters are so realistically drawn, they can be confused with real people.

12. “The characters are unrealistic.”

The characters are shown being heroic, moral and intelligent, while the critic views his own character as cowardly, amoral and stupid.

13. “The author has no feeling for his subject.”

The author portrays things differently from what the critic thinks they are.

14. “The characters give speeches.”

The characters are capable of expressing a coherent viewpoint.

15. “This character is the author’s mouthpiece.”

This character makes more sense than the others.

16. “The book is utopian.”

The author thinks things can get better.

17. “The book is an exercise in paranoia.”

The author thinks things can get worse.

I find myself here — as both a novelist myself and a critic — having to be didactic, myself. I have to teach you the very standards that need to be used when criticizing a work of literature. I have to arm you with the very tools necessary to understand what it is that critics are trying to steer you away from — and why.

Critics who are not themselves practitioners of the art they are writing about are — with rare exceptions, caused by a dedication to reason and honesty above all else — the enemies of art. Without the ability to create it themselves, they are wannabes sitting on the sidelines envious, spiteful, and on a mission to destroy that which they, themselves, do not have the power to create.

The failed artists — the one who gave up — tend to be the most dangerous of all.

Adolf Hitler was a failed painter. His hatred of Jews likely started because a Jewish art teacher had the strength of character to point out his failings.

Saddam Hussein was a failed novelist. As dictator of Iraq he self-published his novels and his minions forced people to buy them.

The Roman Emperor Nero played the lyre while Rome burned.

And Bill Clinton was either a failed saxophonist or someone who didn’t have the perseverance to find out if he could spend his life supporting himself doing it.

The critics who were never artists and the critics who are failed artists don’t like art that clearly communicates. They thrive on murk and obscurity. They shrink from any sort of standards. They hide behind a doctrine they’ve invented called deconstructionism, which when you strip away the academic veneer of respectability means that a work of art has no objective meaning at all, but means only what an audience member imagines it means.

Sonny boy, I did not go through eight drafts of my first novel — and more recently fourteen cuts of my first movie — because I don’t think I am capable of refining what I’m trying to communicate to my audience down to the subatomic level. Screw Heisenberg and his uncertainty principle when it comes to the business I have chosen to be in.

If my art does not communicate precisely and absolutely what I intend it to mean, either I have failed as an artist or I have failed to find an audience worthy of me.

My father did not practice the violin for hours every day for over half a century because he was satisfied with being sloppy in front of an audience without an ear to tell the difference. He heard the difference — and on that day when his strength and agility and hearing had failed him and he could no longer perform to the lofty standards he had set for himself, on that day he began to die.

The Overton Window is told third person from several viewpoints, the most important being Noah Gardner, whom we meet on his 28th birthday — and what an eventful birthday it is, having him stopped in a New York City cab by Halliburton-type security contractees protecting political candidates in town, and arrested at a Tea party type meeting taking place in a beer hall — and I’m sure the authors picked that meeting location pointedly.

Noah is the scion to a New York public relations firm into everything from making pet rocks a fad to saving politicians from sex scandals. Noah’s father is a cynical bastard who is smart enough to see the writing on the wall from previous misuse of power, but not smart enough to understand that when the game of musical chairs which is the world economy stops he won’t be conducting the music any more. Noah’s possible salvation lies in a chance meeting with a beautiful young libertarian woman who begins to seduce him away from the dark side.

An “Overton Window” is what’s called “the realm of the possible” in politics — it’s that which is on the table for current discussion. So if you’re in the business of politics, job one is moving the Overton Window in your direction — getting what the public can accept as possible to include your agenda. If your agenda is total control, you create incidents that scare the public into incremental losses of their privacy and liberty. If your agenda is expanding freedom, you create loopholes for people to escape through.

If you’ve come to this page expecting me to tell you anything more about the story or characters of The Overton Window, think again. Anything more I tell you would be a spoiler.

Trust me, I’d love to be able to tell you why the Lloyd D. George Federal Courthouse in Las Vegas, Nevada plays a part in this plot. That was the exterior we used for the office of Jack Goldwater’s supervisor, IRS Deputy Commissioner Lewis Heinlein, in my movie Lady Magdalene’s.

Oh my God — there’s even a sequence in Pahrump, Nevada — where I filmed most of Lady Magdalene’s — and where I live!

Some Star Wars references, even. Sam Konkin, Victor Koman and I did produce the very first Star Wars fanzine, The Force.

Spooky. More than one place in the novel gives me an eerie feeling of déjà vu.

Ayn Rand told her readers that an author’s job is to present facts instead of predigested conclusions, and let the reader make up their own minds.

But my telling you about the plot and characters of a novel by someone else isn’t my job. It’s the authors’ job. Let them communicate their images and events to you. Let their words — not mine — be your first introduction. I do not intend to broker the experience of reading The Overton Window for you.

I gave you my standards for judging a work of literature. By these standards I find The Overton Window to be an important work of literature, expertly crafted, relevant to our times, presenting solid values, and on the same mission that I am to liberate this country from the critics who are incapable of creative work yet feel themselves capable of standing in judgment over it.

The critics of The Overton Window will not need to read the novel to condemn it, and many won’t even trouble themselves. They already know all they need to know because they’ve listened to its producer, Glenn Beck, speak to them on his television and radio shows.

The Overton Window is a trenchant and uncompromising critique of power brokers who can not create life but feel themselves competent to rule over it. It is a novel that wants the free will that God gave each of us to be once again free. If that’s not literature then to hell with literature. If that’s not a good enough reason for you to read a novel, nothing further I say to you will make any difference, anyway.

As it happens, I have many disagreements with Glenn Beck — both with the content of his presentations and sometimes with his method of presentation. He’s been on a journey. This novel is a strong indication to me that he’s going in the right direction.

None of anything negative I might perceive in the author is reflected in The Overton Window. Glenn Beck is his best self as a fiction writer — and the collaboration of producer Kevin Balfe, editor Emily Bestler, and novelist Jack Henderson — known for his own previous novel Circumference of Darkness — only enhance Glenn Beck’s first outing as a thriller writer.

On June 2, 2010 Glenn Beck praised my novel Alongside Night to the three million listeners of his nationally syndicated and satellite radio show.

I guess this review is the beginning of a mutual admiration society.

As a Prometheus-Awards laureate in 1984 and 1989, I recommend to the next Libertarian Futurist Society’s Prometheus Awards Nominating Committee that The Overton Window be placed into consideration for the “Best Novel” category.

Mr. Beck, welcome to the libertarian fight. This time I know our side will win.

Winner of the Special Jury Prize for Libertarian Ideals from the 2011 Anthem Film Festival! My comic thriller Lady Magdalene’s — a movie I wrote, produced, directed, and acted in it — is now available free on the web linked from the official movie website. If you like the way I think, I think you’ll like this movie. Check it out!

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