3 Body Problem (TV)



Review of 3 Body Problem

Abhinav Anand

3 Body Problem. Dir. David Benioff, D.B. Weiss, Alexander Woo. Netflix, 2024.

Version 1.0.0

Based on the Chinese author Cixin Liu’s 2008 novel of the same name (originally published in 2006 in serialized form), which won the prestigious Hugo award, 3 Body Problem is part quest narrative, part science fiction, and part detective fiction. The series is primarily set in China and the United Kingdom. It opens with the depiction of the cultural revolution in 1966 China, specifically focusing on Tsinghua University. The series straddles between present-day Britain and China during the 1970s. In modern-day Britain, a group of scientists witness several mind-rattling phenomena that the existing laws of science fail to explain. Simultaneously, as a further complication, many world-renowned scientists commit suicide, a situation which not only jeopardizes the scientific community but also poses a challenge to science as a knowledge system.

The adaptation stages the struggles of these protagonists, who are mostly scientists, vying to resolve the “3 body problem” while simultaneously striving to understand the almost supernatural occurring, which goes back to a contact established with an alien species, who now plans an attack that can wipe off humanity from the face of the earth. Ironically, the key to the former problem i.e., the “3 body problem” lies in the scientific advancement that humans have made—and perhaps will make in the future. The earth, unlike this other alien planet, is a stable unit. Still, the reason for the possible annihilation of the human species is the very same scientific advancement which facilitated contact with the alien species, who now pose a threat to humanity.

The “problem” posed in the title is the presence of three suns in an alternate solar system, which alters the climatic conditions in a way that makes survival impossible for a sustained period. The connection between this system and Earth was established by one of the Chinese scientists who lost her father to the cultural revolution and started firmly believing in the need for an external intervention to save human beings from themselves. This alien intervention, she believed, would also counter the cynicism of the governments across the world who undertook various projects under the pretense of progress and development. However, establishing a connection with this technologically advanced but highly unstable system comes at its own risk: the ultimate risk being wiping out humankind.

3 Body Problem employs various tropes and themes associated with the traditional definitions of science fiction as a genre. However, the first scene establishes that science cannot provide all the explanations, for instance, why the protagonist’s father, who himself was a scientist, was brutally murdered by young revolutionary students while being cheered on by a group of frenzied crowds. The scene distinguishes between what is scientific and everything else that can be done under the guise of science. This also invokes the idea of “revolutionary” and “counter-revolutionary” science, which points to the politics that science is implicated in, showing that science no longer remains an innocent quest for “truth” but becomes a tool to reaffirm one’s version of truth. When the revolutionary students ask their professor about science’s verdict on the existence of God, he says, “it does not deny it”. The revolutionaries take it as the acceptance of god’s existence by science/scientists and end up killing that science/scientist, while his wife, who is also a scientist and incidentally is on the same stage, is left alive.

The scene sets the tone for the most crucial aspect that is focalised throughout the series:      the constant questioning of the relationship between science and politics and understanding science’s politics, which is both dynamic and contextual. Unlike the conventional trope of “good scientist versus bad scientist” often used in science fiction, the first scene underscores the idea that scientists are political beings and they can either be anti-establishment or pro-establishment. Science has been shown as a contested territory that is enmeshed in power relations. The series captures Lewontin’s idea of scientists being “social beings” and, subsequently, science being a “supremely social institution.”

For instance, the social aspect of science comes to the fore when one of the characters, who is in direct touch with the alien species, builds a ship akin to Noah’s ark, highlighting its resemblance to Christian mythology. The man also treats these alien creatures as God—addressing them as my Lord and himself as their servant. The advanced science of the alien species makes them god-like figures who get to decide the fate of humanity and pick and choose the ones to be saved and the ones to be damned. The turn comes when the species realizes that humans are capable of lying and deception and decides to annihilate the entire species because of it. Thus, science is shown to be deeply intertwined with the social, religious, and humane aspects of the world.

In order to combat this situation, the three people are selected by the United Nations, two military personnel and one scientist. This reiterates the connection between politics and science—where international organizations take over and assume complete authority to make decisions about the entire humanity. The military personnel and scientist are brought together on several other occasions where violence is justified in the name of saving the entire species. However, ironically, the unrest and violence among humans caused by the “bug” message, where every screen in the world is made to display the cryptic message, “You are bugs” by the alien species, highlights the hollowness of human society that just needs a nudge to disintegrate. This also shows that an alien invasion isn’t necessary for the wiping off of the human race, who are very much capable of self-annihilation.

The series’ emphasis on the fragility of human existence, despite excelling in the field of science and technology, gains renewed significance in the light of wars erupting across the globe. Despite being a relatively stabler system without a planetary crisis like 3 Body Problem,the unrest and violence that surrounds human beings make us question whether we ourselves consider some humans amongst us as “bugs” that can be terminated and wiped off the face of the earth. 3 Body Problem does what the New-Wave of the 1960s and 70s promised, where the focus was on mapping the effect of emerging science and technology on human beings (Stableford) while adhering to accurate scientific descriptions. According to Judith Merril, a key theorist of New Wave SF, science fiction is “required to be about things that happened to people, rather than just to have people in them.”        

The series focuses on characters and shows their development, be it their moral, psychological, or philosophical development, which itself is enmeshed in the science of the times. Thus, it uses the embedded nature of science to carve characters whose lives are enmeshed with their times, which in turn is enmeshed in the science of that time. The series depicts scientists as social beings with emotional vulnerabilities, philosophical skepticism, political leanings, and, most importantly, human flaws. This results in a piece of science fiction where the quest includes understanding both the outside world and the inner workings of the human mind and how science permeates both the inner and outer worlds, as an epistemology and as a social institution of knowledge respectively.

REFERENCES

Lewontin, Richard C. Biology as Ideology: The Doctrine of DNA. CBC Massey Lectures Series, 1990.

Merril, Judith. “Judith Merril’s definition of SF (Science Fiction)”. SF: The Year’s Greatest Science-Fiction and Fantasy. Gnome Press, 1959. https://www.bl.uk/collection-items/judith-merrils-definition-of-sf-science-fiction

Stableford, Brain. “Science fiction before the genre.” The Cambridge Companion to Science Fiction edited by Farah Mendlesohn and Edward James. Cambridge University Press, 2003.

Abhinav Anand is a Ph.D. candidate at the Indian Institute of Technology, Kanpur, India. His Ph.D. research analyses the relationship between science and social justice in contemporary Indian English fiction. He has worked as a Research Assistant for the GOTHELAI project on gender mainstreaming in Higher Education. He is the recipient of the 2020 Sahapedia-UNESCO Fellowship, where he worked on the intersection of gender and caste in Bihar’s “Naach” folk theatre tradition. He is interested in the areas of Science Fiction Studies, Science and Technology Studies, Indian Literature, Feminist theory and activism, and critical theory.

Doctor Who, season 14



Review of Doctor Who, season 14

Neil James Hogan

Davies, Russell T. Doctor Who. TV Series, BBC/Bad Wolf Productions/Disney+, 2024.

Version 1.0.0

Doctor Who, the longest-running science fiction television series in the world, has continually reinvented itself since its debut in 1963. The latest rejuvenation, under the aegis of Disney+, introduces Rwandan-Scottish actor Ncuti Gatwa as the Fifteenth Doctor, accompanied by Millie Gibson as Ruby Sunday. This new series, characterized by its innovative blend of magic realism and traditional science fiction elements, marks a significant shift. Russell T. Davies, returning as showrunner, has emphasized his intent to break new ground (Bhuvad 2022), casting Gatwa to bring a fresh emotional depth to the character.

While Doctor Who is not averse to magic realism, having used it in several stories in the classic (1963-1989) and new series (2005-), this was sporadic, usually as part of a deux ex machina narrative enabling the Doctor to get out of an impossible situation. In this series it is used in almost every episode, appearing first in the 2023 Christmas special The Church on Ruby Road.  Released earlier than the rest of the series, the story features goblins, evoking European fairy tales, yet explained through characteristic pseudoscientific rhetoric with “the language of rope” and a goblin ship that surfs “the waves of time”. This sets a precedent for the supernatural themes that follow. Also, the Doctor and Ruby engage in a musical number with the goblins, a first for the series, signaling a new direction under Davies’ vision.

Featuring a space station baby production factory run by toddlers, the official first episode Space Babies reflects an absurd yet poignant commentary on innocence and technological exploitation. The parallels with The End of the World (2005) and The Beast Below (2010) are clear, as both episodes place the new companion in a futuristic, perilous setting with an underlying problem. This episode emphasizes the theme of uniqueness and survival, also drawing emotional responses from the Doctor on being the last of his kind. The inclusion of a bogeyman and the threat of an exploding ship inject classic Doctor Who peril, blending it with the new series’ emotional and whimsical tone.

The Maestro, a god from another reality who consumes music, played by Jinx Monsoon, introduces a mythological dimension to the series in The Devil’s Chord. This fun, bombastic romp, with Monsoon eating the scenery at every opportunity, and featuring The Beatles, explores the nature of artistic inspiration and its exploitation, connecting to broader philosophical debates about creativity and its commodification. The narrative’s reliance on mythological allusions, particularly Greek and Egyptian pantheons, enriches the intellectual tapestry of the series, inviting comparisons to ancient myths and their modern reinterpretations. This story also parallels The Pyramids of Mars (1975) with a reimagining of a scene from that classic episode to remind us why the Doctor tries to keep the relative timeline on track—with a visit to a destroyed alternate-future London. The episode’s climax, featuring a musical number in the rain, underscores Davies’ intent to infuse the series with unprecedented elements, blending musical theater with science fiction.

Boom confines the Doctor to a landmine, forcing him to confront his vulnerability while chaos ensues around him. The writer, Steven Moffatt, expressed the importance of disrupting the Doctor’s characteristic and expected behavior, saying, “It would take so much away from him – he can’t run about, he can’t bamboozle people, and he literally can’t move” (BBC Media 2024) . This episode challenges the traditional dynamic hero role of the Doctor, emphasizing his reliance on companions and the importance of collective action. This episode also explores the moral and ethical implications of power and control, echoing themes found in Marxist critiques of capitalism, and biblical allegories of human frailty and redemption. Interestingly, with Doctor Who having a penchant for unsafe space career stories since the 1980s (Hogan and Jürgens 2024), this is another story in that long running theme with, in this case, humans continuing to fight wars far into the future. On the special effects side, the use of ‘volume’ screens to create realistic environments marks a technological advancement, moving Doctor Who beyond its reliance on greenscreen (Johnston 2024), and showcases the influence of Disney’s production capabilities and budget.

73 Yards delves into horror and Welsh folklore, with the Doctor vanishing after stepping on a fairy circle, leaving Ruby to face a haunting figure and an alternate timeline that continues into her 80s. The episode’s unexplained supernatural occurrences challenge Doctor Who’s historical emphasis on rationalism, turning towards a more surreal, David Lynch-esque narrative style. An especially poignant scene in this children’s show carefully alludes to rape, and the fear of speaking out against someone powerful, in a way that only adults would understand. This episode parallels Turn Left (2008), exploring alternate realities and the consequences of small actions. The portrayal of Ruby’s life and aging, and her encounter with a malevolent politician, adds layers of social commentary, particularly regarding the exploitation and sacrifice of individuals within power structures.

Dot and Bubble critiques social media, privilege, echo chambers, and systemic racism, featuring genetically engineered creatures and a digitally dependent society. This episode mirrors contemporary anxieties about technology’s impact on human relationships and societal structures, drawing comparisons with works like Black Mirror. The portrayal of AI-designed creatures raises ethical questions about artificial intelligence, aligning with current debates in science fiction literature and media. The Doctor’s encounter with racism in this episode provides a powerful commentary on discrimination, leveraging Gatwa’s casting to explore themes previously untouched in the series. A stimulating classroom debate could be on which side the Doctor should be: the “human” white supremacists who plan to invade and colonize the rest of the planet, rejecting everyone that is not like them, or the A.I.’s “alien” slug creatures, solely designed to eat them alphabetically for their crimes.

Rogue takes the Doctor and Ruby to a dance party in 1813, encountering shapeshifters and a Harknessian bounty hunter, Rogue (Jonathan Groff). The episode’s meta-textual references to Bridgerton and the exploration of identity and transformation reflect contemporary discussions on performative identity and the fluidity of self. While there had previously been a potential for a romance between the female 13th Doctor and her companion Yaz (see Condon 2023), Rogue is the first time to see strong romantic chemistry between the Doctor and another character since the 11th Doctor’s adventures with his wife River Song. The historic setting and the depiction of a same-sex kiss between the Doctor and Rogue address LGBTQIA+ representation, continuing Doctor Who’s tradition of inclusive storytelling. The episode’s playful and dramatic elements highlight the series’ ability to blend historical fiction with science fiction narratives.

The Legend of Ruby Sunday sees the return of Sutekh, last seen imprisoned in the time vortex by the Fourth Doctor (Tom Baker) in Pyramids of Mars (1975), drawing on Egyptian mythology and the show’s own history with the character. The episode’s focus on family—Ruby’s search for her birth mother, the Doctor’s loneliness, the reappearance of previous companion Melanie Bush (Bonnie Langford), and Kate Lethbridge-Stewart (Jemma Redgrave)’s describing memories of her father (Brigadier Gordon Allister Lethbridge-Stewart)—provides emotional depth and continuity with past series. The use of non-diegetic music from previous episodes as red herrings during a dramatic reveal showcases the series’ intricate narrative weaving and its respect for long-term fans. The incorporation of magic realism and supernatural elements throughout the episode exemplifies the series’ thematic boldness and narrative innovation, while also emphasizing for concerned long-term fans that this element has always been there.

Empire of Death focuses on Sutekh’s destruction of the universe. This episode employs apocalyptic imagery and explores themes of death and rebirth, aligning with classic science fiction tropes. The Doctor’s use of a ‘remembered’ TARDIS and quantum mechanics to reverse the destruction highlights the show’s creative approach to resolving seemingly insurmountable crises. Ruby’s emotional reunion with her birth mother adds a poignant human element to the grandiose narrative, emphasizing themes of family and identity. The episode’s cinematic quality and detailed production design reflect the increased budget and technical advancements brought by Disney’s involvement, and its release to cinemas in the UK at the time, reflects Davies’ ongoing plan for Doctor Who to be available through several kinds of media outlets.

This series features a heightened level of meta-commentary, meta-textuality and self-awareness which reflects the increasingly popular use of self-critical commentary in amateur performative meta-narrative role-playing videos on social media. Examples include: in The Devil’s Chord, when Ruby is dragged away by a physical manifestation of music, the Doctor says, “I thought it was non-diegetic”, a laugh-out-loud moment for anyone who has studied film, but also a line in-universe that emphasizes the higher-dimensionality of the Doctor; character Kate Lethbridge-Stewart lamenting, in the alternate timeline of 73 Yards, that “Things seem to have been getting more supernatural of late”, foreshadowing more science-less imaginings to come; the shocked Bridgerton-esq dancers at an event that could double for a science fiction convention cosplay party commenting about the “scandal” of two men together, an acknowledgement that various forums will fill with complaints about a white man and a black man kissing, and the character Carla Sunday blurting “It’s the Beast” when first hearing the voice of Sutekh, a character voiced by Gabriel Woolf, not only reprising his voice-acting role as Sutekh from 1975, but also returning to the series after voicing The Beast in The Satan Pit (2006).

Non-diegetic music was used to great effect in misleading fans into guessing incorrectly who the ultimate villain reveal would be, with signature music from The Curse of Fenric (1989) and The Sound of Drums (2007) suggesting villainous characters the Haemovores and The Master, respectively. Davies also returned to his signature use of extensive transmedia storytelling (see BBC Studios 2024), with the marketing of The Whoniverse (see BBC Media 2023), building on the public’s acceptance of other franchise universes. This included the prologue-like series Tales of the TARDIS (see Mellor 2023), filmed after the new series was completed but broadcast before it, introducing various re-edited and rescored classic Doctor Who stories relevant to the future series. Davies also organized regular posts to the Doctor Who YouTube channel, his Instagram account, and other social media outlets of excerpts, interviews, podcasts, and behind-the-scenes clips. Many of the cast and crew previously involved with classic and/or new Doctor Who were quick to supply mutual likes and hearts to any related post, and some, like Katy Manning, who played Jo Grant in the series in 1971, reviewed every episode in reels on Instagram.

Doctor Who has always been deeply rooted in the history of science fiction, drawing inspiration from the genre’s classic tropes and themes. The BBC-Disney+ first series continues this tradition while incorporating fresh elements that resonate with contemporary audiences. Unlike many other arc-focused TV and streaming series where there is a single story stretched across six or more episodes, Doctor Who has retained its encapsulated episode format, allowing for nine distinct multilayered and complex storylines, with several “B” stories culminating dramatically in the final episode. While there has been an increase in supernatural elements, these follow the general idea of magic realism in that they are a normal part of the Doctor Who universe, rather than something alien to it, occasionally explained with science-adjacent rhetoric, yet still acceptable within the canon of the show. This change is ideal for a series that continually renews itself, tapping into the zeitgeist of the public’s wish for more fantasy-oriented shows like Game of Thrones, yet still written within the bounds of a complex, multilayered children’s series that can also appeal to adults, proving its ongoing relevance to science fiction fans and scholars alike.

REFERENCES

BBC Media. “Doctor Who: Welcome to the Whoniverse Where Every Doctor, Every Companion and Hundreds of Terrifying Monsters Live.” BBC News, BBC, 30 Oct. 2023, bbc.co.uk/mediacentre/2023/doctor-who-the-whoniverse-tales-of-the-tardis/. Accessed 20 Sept. 2024.

BBC Media. “Doctor Who’s Steven Moffat on Returning with Boom and Putting the Doctor ‘on a Knife’s Edge.’” BBC News, BBC, 13 May 2024, www.bbc.co.uk/mediacentre/mediapacks/doctor-who-boom-steven-moffat. Accessed 20 Sept. 2024.

BBC Studios. “BBC Studios Announce Doom’s Day, a Brand-New Multiplatform Story to Celebrate Doctor Who’s 60th Anniversary Year.” BBC Studios, BBC, 20 Mar. 2023, bbc.co.uk/mediacentre/bbcstudios/2023/bbc-studios-announce-dooms-day-brand-new-multi-platform-story-to-celebrate-doctor-whos-60th-anniversary-year. Accessed 20 Sept. 2024.

Bhuvad, Ariba. “Russell T Davies Teases Doctor Who Season 14: “This Is Strange and New.”” Winter Is Coming, Winter is Coming, 17 Feb. 2022, winteriscoming.net/2022/02/17/russell-t-davies-writing-doctor-who-season-14-strange-new/. Accessed 19 Sept. 2024.

Condon, Ali. “Showrunner Reveals Why Doctor Who and Yaz Never Kissed: “It Was More Heartbreaking.”” PinkNews | Latest Lesbian, Gay, Bi and Trans News | LGBTQ+ News, PinkNews | Latest lesbian, gay, bi and trans news | LGBTQ+ news, 18 Sept. 2023, thepinknews.com/2023/09/18/doctor-who-yaz-never-kissed/. Accessed 19 Sept. 2024.

Hogan, Neil James and Jürgens, Anna-Sophie. “Work in Space: The Changing Image of Space Careers in the TV Series Doctor Who.” Southern Space Studies, 1 Jan. 2024, pp. 19–43, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-51425-8_2.

‌Johnston, Dais. “An Infamously Cheap Sci-Fi Show Just Produced Better Special Effects than Star Wars.” Inverse, 21 May 2024, inverse.com/entertainment/doctor-who-the-volume-special-effects. Accessed 20 Sept. 2024.

Mellor, Louisa. “Doctor Who Anniversary: What Actually Is Tales of the TARDIS?” Den of Geek, 31 Oct. 2023, denofgeek.com/tv/doctor-who-anniversary-what-is-tales-of-the-tardis/. Accessed 20 Sept. 2024.

Neil James Hogan is a researcher and sessional digital humanities lecturer with the Australian National University. His PhD project includes analyzing science fiction stories in early 20th century Australian newspapers. In his spare time, he is editor and publisher of the space fiction semiprozine Alien Dimensions, and writes the space fiction series Stellar Flash. Check out his Vintage Science Fiction podcast (Vintage SciFi Guy) his space fiction stories on Amazon (Neil A. Hogan), and his research blog (NeilHogan.com). He resides in Melbourne, Australia, and enjoys exploring the universe via his Quest 3.

Call for Papers: Alternative Governance in Science Fiction


SFRA Review, vol. 54 no. 3

From the SFRA Review


Call for Papers: Alternative Governance in Science Fiction

The Editorial Collective

Among the many attractions of speculative fiction is its ability to envision a world different from our own, whether this be a distorted reflection of our own world or something entirely new. Especially in recent decades, many works of speculative fiction take a social rather than strictly technological approach to examining human society.

One aspect of these sorts of alternative worlds takes the form of different visions of governance. Many of the canonical works of SF have tended to imitate historic examples of governments, such as totalitarian empires, democratic republics, and hereditary monarchies. Especially in past decades, these governments serve as little more than set dressing for a story to take place, rather than being critically engaged with to explore the consequences of and alternatives to these systems. Now, however, we increasingly see in SF alternative systems of government both as a consequence of developing technology and as a distorted/distorting mirror through which to view our own systems.

This CFP seeks to broaden understanding of government in SF both within and beyond its typical bounds. We invite papers that reflect upon the issue of governance in SF as it can be, not necessarily how it is. Why and how does a given work depict a particular system of government? What is this system’s relationship to new technologies, whether these technologies be physical, digital or social? How and why is this system intended to estrange our own understanding of governance in the here and now?

The SFRA Review invites submissions that focus on the depiction or criticism of speculative, utopian, dystopian, alternative, or futurological systems of governing. Topics may include (but are not limited to):

  • Governments
  • Elections
  • Monarchies
  • Empires
  • Dictatorships
  • Republics
  • Democracies
  • Theocracies
  • Utopias
  • Dystopias

We invite proposals of ~250 words and short author bios by 15 September 2024. Contributors will be notified if their essays are selected for inclusion by 30 September 2024, and full essays of 4000-5000 words will be requested by 30 November 2024. Editing and revision will take place over the next few weeks, and final submissions will be due on 15 January 2025. Edited articles will appear in the Spring 2025 (01 Februrary) issue. Submissions should be sent to (jamesjknupp@gmail.com) and CCed to (vconn@stevens.edu). We look forward to hearing from you.

SFRA Awards Presented at the 2024 “Transitions” Conference at The University of Tartu


SFRA Review, vol. 54 no. 3

From the SFRA Executive Committee


SFRA Awards Presented at the 2024 “Transitions” Conference at The University of Tartu

Student Paper Award
The Student Paper Award is presented to the outstanding scholarly essay read at the annual conference of the SFRA by a student.

The winner of the 2024 award is Vicky Brewster for their paper “Simulated Worlds and Digital Disruptions: Gothic Glitch in The Tenth Girl

Mary Kay Bray Award
The Mary Kay Bray Award is given for the best review to appear in the SFRA Review in a given year.

This year’s awardee is David Welch for his “Review of Hades” (SFRA Review 53.1)

SFRA Book Award
The SFRA Book Award is given to the author of the best first scholarly monograph in SF, in each calendar year.

This year’s winner is Mingwei Song, for Fear of Seeing: A Poetics of Chinese Science Fiction

Thomas D. Clareson Award
The Thomas D. Clareson Award for Distinguished Service is presented for outstanding service activities-promotion of SF teaching and study, editing, reviewing, editorial writing, publishing, organizing meetings, mentoring, and leadership in SF/fantasy organizations.

This year’s awardee is Jeffrey Andrew Weinstock.

SFRA Innovative Research Award
The SFRA Innovative Research Award (formerly the Pioneer Award) is given to the writer or writers of the best critical essay-length work of the year.

This year’s awardee is Rebekah Sheldon for her essay, “Generativity without reserve: Sterility apocalypses and the enclosure of life-itself,” published in Science Fiction Film and Television 16.3 (2023).

SFRA Award for Lifetime Contributions to SF Scholarship
Originally the Pilgrim Award, the SFRA Award for Lifetime Contributions to SF Scholarship was created in 1970 by the SFRA to honor lifetime contributions to SF and fantasy scholarship. The award was first named for J. O. Bailey’s pioneering book, Pilgrims through Space and Time and altered in 2019.

This year’s awardee is Lisa Yaszek.


From the President


SFRA Review, vol. 54 no. 3

From the SFRA Executive Committee


From the President

Hugh O’Connell

The strange rhythms of the academic “summer break” seem to compel me to continuously turn in these Janus-faced reports: at once looking back to the last conference, now fading into the past, while simultaneously looking ahead to the new academic year and the next conference on the horizon.

First up, looking backwards.

It’s hard to believe that the “Transitions” SFRA 2024 conference in Tartu, Estonia was nearly three months ago. It was great to see so many of our sf colleagues online and in-person, and it’s a tribute to the hosts, presenters, and special guests that I still feel like I’m living in the ideas that we workshopped and discussed together. With that in mind, I’d like to take this opportunity to once again thank Jaak Tomberg, Lisanna Lajal, the students that ran the tech, and the university administration for all of their support and for making us feel so welcome, digitally and personally, in Tartu. The conference brought together over 175 participants from all over the globe in a series of a highly successful, fully hybrid panels and presentations. It was a stunning example of the global reach that sf studies fosters and the recent tech developments that help bring such a global undertaking to fruition. While I didn’t envy some of my more far-flung colleagues joining panels at 4am their local time, it was remarkable how well integrated the hybrid panelists and attendees were.

I also want to offer my congratulations to this year’s award winners: Lisa Yaszek, Rebekah Sheldon, Jeffrey Andrew Weinstock, Mingwei Song, David Welch, and Vicky Brewster. I hope that everyone will take a couple of minutes to look at the awards sections of this issue of the SFRA Review.

Next up, looking ahead.

If you were at the conference, or paying attention to SFRA social media accounts, you probably caught wind that we announced that the SFRA conference will be returning to North America for 2025 (somewhat unbelievably for the first time, practically speaking, since 2018!). I have some bad news and some good news on this front. Unfortunately, due to administrative issues beyond their control, our organizers at the University of Delaware recently learned that they would have to pull the plug on the previously announced “Material Futures” conference for SFRA 2025. Given the amount of planning that they had already put into the conference, the Ex Com want to thank Ed and Siobhán for all of their hard work on the SFRA’s behalf.

On a brighter note, we were lucky that a new host was able to come in at the last minute and make sure that we have a location for the conference. SFRA 2025 will now be hosted and organized by Stefanie Dunning, the Director of the Susan B. Anthony Institute: The program for Gender, Women’s and Sexuality Studies at the University of Rochester in New York. More details will be coming soon, but the theme is set to be: “‘Trans People are (in) the Future’: Queer and Trans Futurity in Science Fiction,” with the conference to take place in late July or early August 2025. We are very excited for this theme, which we know resonates powerfully for our membership. Indeed, Stefanie remarked that one of the reasons that she was so keen on hosting the conference is because sf studies is at the forefront of many of these issues.

Finally, if you have an event that you’d like to bring to rest of the SFRA membership’s attention through its email lists or social media sites, or you have other ideas or concerns about the work the organization is doing, please don’t hesitate to reach out to me at hugh.oconnell@umb.edu or our new Outreach Officer, Anastasia Klimchynskaya (anaklimchynskaya@gmail.com). We’d love to hear from you.


Meeting Futures in the Face of An Age-Diverse Academic Labor Market


SFRA Review, vol. 54 no. 3

From the SFRA Executive Committee


Meeting Futures in the Face of An Age-Diverse Academic Labor Market

Ida Yoshinaga

This summer, while catching up with my sf-film viewing, the image of a crusty Dr. Henry Walton Jones, Jr., grumping at the young’uns during Indy’s own university retirement party—after decades of navigating both archaeology and tomb-raiding, adventures which somehow didn’t prepare him for the brave new world of a changeful 1960s!—struck me as prescient for our current era of inter-generational, academic knowledge and job succession.

As we Baby Boomers and older GenXers—perhaps the last PhDs who as a cohort could expect to land full-time, tenure-track jobs with traditional professorial benefits and economic security in the North American – (and part of) Western European academic markets—push back retirement past our 60s, into the 70s and even beyond, especially in the wake of financial anxieties brought about by post-COVID COLA rises (Anft 2023 5-6), new waves of scholars including Gens Y, Z, and Alpha face less certain, if decidedly more inventive, career pathways towards a sustainable academic life. The contingent-labor market is marked particularly by researchers and hybrid scholar-creatives who’re gender and race diverse (for instance, women and marginalized community members strongly characterize the adjuncting pool; see Anft 7; Colby 2023, 2 and 5-6).

Universities, colleges, and other institutions of higher education are adapting to labor-market shifts and their related inequalities—some creating relatively stable, non-tenure-track positions aka “contract-renewable” jobs (usually full-time non-tenure-track; see Colby 1 for data on this type of contingent labor); others offering long tenured faculty buy-outs to retire or choose phased retirement options (Anft 12-15) to as to make space for hiring new (often contingent) faculty; with a few schools even mandating that adjuncts participate in 401Ks (Anft 21).

What does an age- and life-stage-diverse community of science-fiction-studies scholars look like, with its powerful intersectional implications of class, gender/sexual, and race/nation inequality? How do we socialize, share disciplinary or subfield info, network, train, debate, and professionally advance ourselves alongside our colleagues—in short, community-build as we grow the field, in this era? How do we run conferences, assess the work of scholars and artists/writers for speculative-fiction awards, initiate exciting new projects?

We are interested in hearing from those of you with ideas on how we best facilitate members to meet, exchange ideas, and build lasting intellectual relationships with each other, going forward? What does a mid-21st-century academic meeting look like, in other words? And what other types of activities and support can we offer?

You can reach me at ida@hawaii.edu, but—pending President Hugh O’Connell’s announcement of it—I may also show up in person to talk with you at SFRA 2025, which we hope will be held stateside again.

WORKS CITED

Colby, Glenn, “Data Snapshot: Tenure and Contingency in US Higher Education,” AAUP Reports and Publications, March 2023, pp. 1-8, https://www.aaup.org/article/data-snapshot-tenure-and-contingency-us-higher-education.

Anft, Michael, for the AAUP (co-sponsored by the Teachers Insurance and Annuity Association of America), “Preparing for a Graceful Exit: The Faculty-Retirement Landscape,” Chronicle.com, 2023, pp. 1-24, https://connect.chronicle.com/rs/931-EKA-218/images/Retirement_TIAA_InsightsReport.pdf.


Summer 2024


SFRA Review, vol. 54 no. 3

From the SFRA Review


Summer 2024

Ian Campbell

I’ve long felt that the timeline where friends got both David Bowie and Prince to the doctor in time back in 2016 is the control universe, and we’re living in the experimental one, and that sometime around (let’s say) 06 January 2021, the researchers grew bored and put their collective thumb on the fast-forward button. But I was incorrect, I think: when Golden Toilet almost took a bullet and then a very effective incumbent dropped out of the race, I came to understand that what we now live in is the Black Swan universe. Anything goes, folks: buckle up, or don’t.


SF, among other things, enables us to run experimental universes: to say “what might happen were X true”, whether X be faster-than-light travel, or colonizable planets, or sentient aliens who just want to party. SF lets us look at what the consequences of those developments might be, and also to use those hypothetical universes as distorted reflections upon our own here and now. In this issue of the SFRA Review, our Managing Editor Virginia L. Conn brings us a set of articles about SF and socialism: what a collective approach to solving problems or rebooting our society might look like. We hope that you find these articles, as well as our usual palette of reviews, to be food for thought. Imagine an experimental universe where money did not count as free speech.


The two hottest days in recorded human history were reached last week, breaking a record set last month, which broke a record set last year. I’m beginning to sound like a broken record, but our climate change future is already here: it’s just very unevenly distributed. It reminds me of William Gibson’s work in The Peripheral and Agency, where the background plot revolves around a non-white woman elected to the US presidency around this time and then either assassinated, or not, depending on the timeline. Imagine an experimental universe where the open undermining of democracy led to actual sanctions. Write me at icampbell@gsu.edu.


The Hundred Greatest Superhero Films and TV Shows



Review of The Hundred Greatest Superhero Films and TV Shows

Dan Brown

Zachary Ingle and David Sutera. The 100 Greatest Superhero Films and TV Shows. Rowman & Litttlefield, 2022. Hardcover. 328 pg. $45.00. ISBN 9781538114506.


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With a title like The 100 Greatest Superhero Films and TV Shows, it’s easy to imagine this new volume by Zachary Ingle and David M. Sutera is the kind of resource diehard comic fans would keep on hand to settle heated barroom squabbles.

“Hey, what’s the best superhero movie ever? I say it’s 1989’s Batman with Michael Keaton.”

“No way! Obviously, Superman from 1978 is a superior film and Christopher Reeve is a hero for the ages.”

“Let’s see what Ingle and Sutera have to say. They’ll know.”

But this is not a Guinness Book of Superhero Movie World Records. Heck, the co-authors don’t even present the motion pictures and TV shows they discuss in numerical order from best to worst, so those readers looking for a Comic Book Resources-type of extended listicle are bound to be disappointed. Instead, what the two experts provide is a perceptive account of the major superhero releases since the advent of talkies, plus a rationale for how each individual film fits within that larger history. Stated in a word, this book is foundational. It belongs on the bookshelf of every serious superhero scholar.

This 311-page tome goes way beyond rehashing superhero trivia, most of which is well-known by now anyway, and well into the realm of thoughtful cultural analysis. Ingle and Sutera explain at the outset their shared project is “to lay the foundation to encourage more critical discourse on the historical, social, aesthetic, cultural, technological and economic elements of the superhero film” (8). They endeavour to show how properties such as Angel (1999-2004), Captain America: Civil War (2016), and Watchmen (2009) have been shaped by, and have helped shape, global pop culture from the era of Hollywood serials to our current age of streaming. They succeed. And in doing so, this book ups the ante for all researchers following in their footsteps. This compendium is a masterwork for one simple reason: The co-authors take superhero culture, in all its manifestations, seriously.

It’s true comic books were once read mainly by children, but those days have been gone a long time, even though when your local newspaper bothers to cover comics or fan conventions there are inevitably interjections like “Zap!” and “Pow!” in the headlines. Some may be reluctant to face the fact that, with new Marvel properties debuting seemingly every few weeks, superheroes have moved into the mainstream of our society (even as comics themselves have become the preserve of a niche, aging audience). Today’s young superhero fans don’t want to read about a character like Batman, they want to BE Batman, which they can do easily on their cell phones.

All of that said, there is certainly room to quibble with the works the writers deem worthy of discussion. For example, both the Bob Burden-derived Mystery Men (1999) and the Kurt Russel film Sky High (2005) are included here only as honourable mentions. Yet there’s an argument to be made that every superhero adaptation being made in 2023 is a parody, so those little-seen efforts are crucial because they paved the way to the current widespread ironic posture regarding costumed do-gooders. Why the short shrift? Would Deadpool have even been possible on the big screen without those early experiments at squeezing laughs out of the genre’s conventions. Ingle and Sutera also place special emphasis on the Fox X-Men series of movies. While it’s true films such as X-Men (2000) and X2 (2003) are historically important, some would argue they are objectively bad works of art—which isn’t the only consideration for inclusion in The 100 Greatest Superhero Films and TV Shows, but surely how crappy they are as entertainments bears mentioning?

Perhaps a better title would have been Why Superhero Films and TV Shows Matter. As mentioned, the book doesn’t include a numbered ranking (chapters are organized alphabetically by title), so it encourages the reader to do more than skim each entry, thus moving toward a fuller understanding of why certain adaptations landed the way they did. The authors also grapple with the… strangeness of some of these franchises. They look at superhero films and TV programs with fresh eyes by setting aside the conventional wisdom that has developed about each character in the intervening years or decades. It’s also true that this volume, released in 2022, was destined to be out-of-date the moment it came out, given the breakneck pace of superhero releases. The DC filmic universe, for instance, was in a much different place 12 months ago than today, having effectively been brought to a conclusion with the Ezra Miller Flash movie last summer, Superheroes are important to our culture. There’s a lot to be learned from this thought-provoking history, and with more superhero movies and shows on the way a second volume is not only warranted but would also be welcomed.

Dan Brown has covered pop culture as a journalist for more than 30 years for organizations like the CBC, the Globe and Mail, and National Post. He is a graduate of three Ontario universities and wrote his M.A. thesis on antidetection in the short fiction of Alice Munro. He teaches arts journalism at Western University and is the “mentor on staff” at the Western Gazette, the school’s student-owned and -operated newspaper.

Supernatural: A History of Television’s Unearthly Road Trip



Review of Supernatural: A History of Television’s Unearthly Road Trip

Dominck Grace

Erin Giannini. Supernatural: A History of Television’s Unearthly Road Trip. Rowman & Littlefield, 2021. Hardcover. 238 pg. $36.00. ISBN 9781538134498. EBook. $21.50. ISBN 9781538134504.


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Cult TV phenomenon Supernatural, which ran for fifteen seasons (the longest run for a genre TV show, Giannini insists, though the definition she is using of “genre” would seem to narrow the concept to the fantastical, since westerns Gunsmoke [1955-1975] and Death Valley Days [1952-1970] both had longer runs and produced significantly more episodes—and one also would need to exclude medical dramas and crime shows from the “genre” category to give Supernatural the nod), has received a remarkable amount of critical attention, from monographs to essay collections, from scholarly studies to books for general audiences. Giannini’s history of the show has scholarly heft but a style that makes it accessible to general readers, and at a mere $36.00 for a hardcover book is also priced for a non-scholarly audience. It would probably be accurate (and I do not do so pejoratively) to describe Giannini as an aca-fan, engaging in serious study of a TV show she evidently loves. Features such as her “Highly Subjective List of 30 Must-See Supernatural episodes” in the Appendix speak as much to fandom as scholarship (and the fact that I would have weighted my own such list more heavily in favor of earlier seasons should make clear my own aca-fan propensities.

Giannini traces the genesis of the show in her introduction by contextualizing its origin in 2005 in the historical events of the time, and then devotes the first three chapters, in a section called “In the Beginning,” to the earlier television stew from which show creator Eric Kripke fished out ingredients and to the genesis of the show specifically, from Kripke’s own personal and work history. Part of the show’s richness can be traced to the diverse influences that shaped its development. Though Supernatural can be categorized as horror (as Giannini notes, always a tough sell on network TV, given the restrictions of the graphic and transgressive elements endemic to the genre), its influences are diverse, and perhaps thanks to the show’s fifteen-year run, it was able (sometimes gleefully) to employ a lot of generic slippage into its run. Indeed, Supernatural developed into a remarkably self-conscious show, including overtly meta episodes and ultimately a protracted and plot-central meditation on the complexities of the creative process and the relationship between fans, artists, and art itself. These chapters are especially useful for their careful and thorough grounding of the show in its historical and social context, a topic Giannini continues to explore in more detail in the balance of the book, as she tracks the show’s development across its fifteen-year run. This unit concludes with an overview of the show’s main characters, as well as of significant characters who appeared less frequently.

Part two consists of four chapters, under the section title “The Supernatural World.” The first of these chapters revisits somewhat the historical context elements of the preceding unit. Indeed, a feature of this book is a fairly modular construction, with individual chapters evidently designed to be read easily as single units. This does lead to some repetition. However, here Giannini makes some interesting interventions. Her detailed consideration of the show in relation to Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1997-2003), though strong in its own right, is hardly surprising. Surprising, and insightful, is Giannini’s subsequent detailed discussion of Supernatural in relation to Roseanne (1988-1997), as shows representing blue-collar life on screen. The other chapters delve into Supernatural’s other major influences, such as folklore and religion, throughout its run. Early seasons often built on urban legends, myths, and folk tales; later seasons created extended narrative arcs in which the Judeo-Christian god (primarily; others also appear) is central. The final chapter in this section considers the complex and shifting perspectives on politics across the show’s run, offering interesting readings of how the show’s politics shifted under different show-runners.

The final section, “’People Watch This?’ Supernatural’s Cultural Impact,” steps away from the show proper to consider its influence. The book therefore neatly turns from exploring what Supernatural emerged from to considering what has emerged from it. Giannini begins with a recap of the history of how television has been marketed and consumed, providing perhaps more detail than is really needed for her purpose, but she nevertheless offers useful insights into how the show capitalized on emerging technologies such as streaming to broaden its audience and develop a passionate fan base—and therefore to become a “tentpole” show for the CW, used to help grow audiences for other CW offerings The final chapter focuses on fandom and perhaps downplays the complexities and conflicts therein. Supernatural’s passionate fans have not always seen eye to eye, as Giannini’s chapter title suggests: “Beyond ‘Sam’ and ‘Dean’ Girls” refers to the division among fans of each of the two lead characters. Nevertheless, Supernatural fandom has been active in positive ways, to which Giannini draws appropriate attention. This real-world influence is perhaps a more important legacy than Supernatural’s status as “one of the texts that ushered in a golden age of television horror” (156) or as possibly one of the last long-form serials on TV (if one excludes shows such as soap operas, anyway); “its legacy, from content to distribution, continues to resonate” (156), Giannini concludes. One could do worse.

Dominick Grace is the Non-Fiction Reviews Editor for SFRA Review. He is co-editor, with Lisa Macklem, of Supernatural Out of the Box: Critical Essays on the Metatextuality of the Series (2020) and A Supernatural Politics: Essays on Social Engagement, Fandom and the Series (2021).

Women, Science and Fiction Revisited



Review of Women, Science and Fiction Revisited

Sarah Nolan-Brueck

Debra Benita Shaw. Women, Science and Fiction Revisited. Palgrave Macmillan, 2023. Palgrave Studies in Literature, Science and Medicine. Hardcover. 181 pg. $119.99. ISBN9783031251702. eBook ISBN 9783031251719. $89.00.

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Debra Benita Shaw’s Women, Science and Fiction Revisited is an updated version of the author’s 2000 work, Women, Science, and Fiction: The Frankenstein Inheritance. Key differences between the volumes include the removal of some chapters focused on short stories that are now out of print, the reworking and addition of new commentary to others, and the addition of chapters on texts which were released since the original publication. Each chapter focuses on a main text or textual pairing; Shaw examines Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s Herland (1915), Katharine Burdekin’s Swatiska Night (1937), C. L. Moore’s “No Woman Born” (1944), James Tiptree, Jr.’s “Your Haploid Heart” (1969) and Ursula K. Le Guin’s The Left Hand of Darkness (1969), Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale (1985 novel and still-running 2017 TV show), Naomi Alderman’s The Power (2015), and finally, N. K. Jemisin’s The City We Became (2020). These texts, Shaw argues, showcase representative critiques that American, British, and Canadian female authors made of popular feminist ideas and contemporary trends in thinking around technology—hence the title, Women, Science and Fiction, rather than women in Science Fiction.

Shaw’s most radical claim is that “the time of sf is over” (9). She writes, “the criteria that distinguished the genre and which governed the mode in which extrapolation functioned are now no longer sustainable” (9).  In this assertion, Shaw is following a critical pathway to its extreme; while many have claimed that, in our age of technological intensification, the boundaries between the speculative and the real are breaking down, Shaw takes this contention to its logical end. Though she does not imagine SF to be dead, she does claim that the forms of SF which we’re most familiar with are no longer viable, and that the most productive speculative works are now those that trouble a traditional view of how SF operates; in other words, works that push at the boundaries of genre in a self-referential fashion. Further, Shaw sees the need to define SF in opposition to other, less logically ordered genres as the hanger-on of colonialism, and “the taxonomic ordering of the world which structured scientific imperialism” (9). This contention is most clear in Shaw’s discussions of The Left Hand of Darkness and The Handmaid’s Tale. Shaw argues that in our contemporary moment, both have taken on new resonances that change their narratives from extrapolations into allegories for our current crises of climate and bodily legislation, respectively.

As with genre, Shaw challenges her reader to forgo the distracting exercise of erecting rigid gendered definitions and boundaries. In her introduction, Shaw writes, “The question of who or what is a ‘woman’ and who is authorised to speak for and to women seems to be overwhelming the more important work of challenging the patriarchal social structures which, fundamentally, have defined these terms in the first place” (1). The more pressing mission, then, is avoiding definition in opposition to masculine ideals in general, which can lead to unintentional collusion in patriarchal projects of ideological, legal, and physical control. Shaw is careful to challenge ideas of essentialism that align the female figure with “Nature.” In chapter four, Shaw discusses Donna Haraway’s “The Cyborg Manifesto” as a response to a branch of feminism which equates women with nature—a dangerous conflation, Shaw states, because it gives patriarchy a powerful tool to align women with reproduction and commodify the female body. This formula is best articulated in a line Shaw uses to describe Swastika Night: “Hence the text extrapolates the appropriation of separatist consciousness and ecofeminist mythology by a patriarchal regime happy to collude with the idea that the future of the planet and the future of women are inherently linked” (117). Throughout, Shaw denies the proposal that a world made of women would be one without problems, or that a society built on unequal power dynamics could lead to equality.

Shaw’s work makes a strong case for the contemporary relevance of each text discussed, and for the ways that political and environmental changes have altered the way we read and understand several older texts. In marking this shift, Shaw turns to N. K. Jemisin’s The City We Became, which she seesas part of the “rise of the new weird,” a less “hopeful” and “naïve” turn which recognizes and challenges “the limitations of genre fiction” (172). Given that The City We Became is a fantastical, surrealist novel, which does not seem to engage with more traditional science fiction elements, its purported role as sign of development or shift in generic boundaries is somewhat questionable. In other words, I remain unconvinced that Jemisin’s novel is the best example for Shaw’s argument. The contention, however, that the execution and goal of extrapolation has been fundamentally altered does offer conceptual tools for examining fiction in a post-Trump, post-Covid-19, rise-of-AI era, in which future shock has taken on a whole new meaning. Shaw’s proposed shift in SF raises important questions as to how SF has served or challenged feminist ideologies in the past, and how these ideologies and their fictional outgrowths can remain critically relevant in an age when science fiction seems to be morphing into science fact with terrifying speed.

Sarah Nolan-Brueck is a PhD candidate at the University of Southern California, where she studies how science fiction interrogates gender. In particular, she examines the many ways SF authors question the medicolegal control of marginalized gendered groups in the United States, and how SF can support activism that refutes this control. Sarah is a graduate editorial assistant for Western American Literature. She has been previously published in Femspec, Huffpost, and has an article forthcoming in Orbit: A Journal of American Literature.