Reviewed by Fred Andersson
I’m a big fan of books that are written solely to collect the weirdest of the weird – cases from around the world, sometimes just for simple fun, other times with a deeper analytical sense for the subjects. For example, John Keel did it, with a sense of humor. Malcolm Smith’s Paranormal Planet takes a different approach, with deadly seriousness. Smith is the first to acknowledge that what he brings up is often based on second-hand sources, a single witness, or just legends and rumours. This is fine and I’m guilty of the same thing. After all, a good story is a good story, and hard to resist.
In chapters titled Sorcery, Extrasensory Perception, Meet the Poltergeist, Bursting into Flames, etc., he brings up many of the subjects I first read about in worn dog-eared library books, curled up in the darkness behind a shelf at the venerable Sigtunastiftelsen Library in Sigtuna, Sweden. Those were the times for me - fearing spontaneous human combustion and quicksand - and they were the greatest of times when my mind was more receptive to imaginative stories. Smith is a good, even great, writer and provides in-depth analyses of these phenomena. I appreciate that, even if the sources sometimes are of very questionable quality. But then again, a good story is what it is. Nothing wrong with that.
Smith is definitely not uncritical. For instance, he questions, more than once, the validity of regression hypnosis when it comes to alien abductions. However, with that said, I do not agree that Betty and Barney Hill were unaffected by stories of aliens and abductions, as this was a common trope in sci-fi both on television and in cinema at the time. And honestly, in this day and age, it’s surely impossible to take Budd Hopkins seriously given the relationships he formed with his patients, and the vast number of leading questions he (and many others of his profession) used to plant their own idea of mythology in the minds of easily impressionable individuals.
Initially, I was actually quite impressed by Paranormal Planet and found it entertaining, yet well-written and serious—it even felt like one of those books I could recommend to someone who might be interested in the subject and needs a good overview of this absurd, paranormal planet we live on. However, something felt off, and I feel I need to bring it up.
Halfway through Smith’s riff on “social contagion,” in the chapter Meet the Poltergeist, and when bringing up the Salem witch craze, I pictured those Salem girls doing TikTok dances in itchy petticoats and couldn’t decide whether to laugh or scream. The whole riff depends on the curious idea that queerness spreads like chickenpox at a slumber party. However, I agree that witch craze—within and outside the United States—was, and still is, a depraved social contagion, and a symbol of religious conservatism and stupidity. No matter the religion involved.
Unfortunately, Smith also cites Abigail Shrier’s (2020) Irreversible Damage: The Transgender Craze Seducing our Daughters, and appears to regard it as a silver bullet. Quick reality check: Shrier’s “rapid-onset” theory was built on shaky data from an online parent survey and the journal had to issue a methodological correction. Every major paediatric body now says that there’s no credible evidence that groups of friends are being collectively hypnotised into chest surgery. What is contagious, according to the American Academy of Pediatrics, is shame: treating a teen’s identity like a phase causes their mental health scores to tank faster than my phone battery on ghost-hunt night.
Then comes the demonology detour, where alcoholism, “criminality,” and—yep—homosexuality huddle together waiting for a pastor with a spray bottle of holy water. Newsflash from 1973: the American Psychiatric Association took homosexuality out of the DSM more than fifty years ago, and its 2024 statement calls any flavor of conversion therapy unethical and harmful. Framing queer people as exorcism fodder isn’t edgy theology; it’s pure malpractice.
Given that Smith brings up gay, trans, and queer people in this way, I have to wonder if he lacks friends and family within these circles. It might be a good thing to reach outside one’s bubble and accept that not everyone defines their bodies, minds, and characters like Smith himself. At one point, he writes, “If you keep your eyes and your mind open, you will see that the paranormal, the miraculous, the merely inexplicable, not only happen, but they are not even uncommon.” I rather wish those open eyes and minds would be not only for the paranormal, but also our fellow human beings.
Finally, Smith’s miracle chapter shows Jews and Muslims zapped into Christianity by heavenly visions, but never the reverse. Pew’s fresh global-switching data says otherwise: faith flows in both directions, with millions leaving and joining every major religion every decade. Editing out half the traffic might make the conversion stories tidier, but it is misleading.
I’m not saying ”torch the book”—there’s plenty of fun in this, including ghosts and time-loop theories. However, don’t pretend that science (or basic history) backs up demon-exorcising gays, trend-chasing trans kids, or one-way tickets to the altar. And no, I cannot see Tucker Carlson as a serious journalist. If we can suspend disbelief long enough to consider telepathic airships, then we can extend the same courtesy to our living, breathing neighbors. Otherwise, that séance you set up so carefully ends up having a very short guest list—and the rest of us, queer and curious alike, are left rattling the windows from outside.
Reference
Shrier, A. (2020). Irreversible damage: The transgender craze seducing our daughters. Regnery.
Fred Andersson is a Swedish researcher, television freelancer, and author.