REVIEW - The Gospel According to Science Fiction: From the Twilight Zone to the Final Frontier by Gabriel McKee (2007)

The Gospel According to Science Fiction: From the Twilight Zone to the Final Frontier
By Gabriel McKee

Paperback, 312 pages, £9.99, Westminster John Know Press

*
reviewed by Alvaro Zinos-Amaro

Gabriel McKee’s The Gospel According to Science Fiction: From the Twilight Zone to the Final Frontier, a fascinating study of the intersection of theology and SF, is a must-read for anyone who cares to learn more about how SF has explored ideas pertaining to creation, morality, identity, the body/soul conundrum, free will, the problem of evil, the afterlife, messiahs, and of course the nature of faith itself.  More than that, it should be read by anyone interested in gaining a wide perspective of SF, one neither constrained to the printed word nor simply relegated to a discussion of its manifestations in popular media.  McKee’s case examples draw on his extensive knowledge of classic and lesser-known SF short stories, novels, comic book series, graphic novels, TV shows, animated shows, and movies, offering a sense not only of the vast possibilities of SF as a multi-medium form of expression, but of its already-realized potential, which has resulted in a body of work that might seem overwhelming to casual fans or even curious non-fans.  Add to this numerous references and quotes from influential philosophers and theologians and you have plenty of substance for your grey matter to chew on.  This constitutes, therefore, more than enough grounds for a recommendation -- curiously, though, the book shouldn’t be read for the reasons that it professes.


McKee has a tendency to extract generalizations from several examples, and though the inspiration for these broader statements seems to be simply an earnest enthusiasm and appreciation for the work discussed, it can lead to questionable assertions. This manner of speaking is made clear in the “Introduction,” in which McKee offers an intriguing question:

“What if science fiction, instead of simply being the cool, rationalist prediction of things to come, is something more primal, more spiritual -- the religious texts of the future?” [Page xii]

Several examples later, he has arrived at an answer:

“Science fiction is a form of faith, even a form of mysticism, that seeks to help us understand not only who we are, but who we will become.” [Page xiii]

This statement seems overly limiting, reducing the consideration of SF to one of metaphysical functionality.  It fails to account for other experiences of SF, such as escapist entertainment or the engagement with SF as a more purely and formally aesthetic estate, one that distinguishes itself from other genres and from non-speculative literature by dent of its visionary scope. Neither of these need entail a mystical component. Furthermore, McKee writes that,

“ […] In all cases, the goal of science fiction is to use its imaginary worlds to create a real world of the future that is better than our present […] The creation of imaginary futures becomes the ongoing creation of the real future. This activity is inherent spiritual. […] SF is shaping how we think of God, and changing what religion can be. It is forging the faith of the future.” [Pages xiii-xiv]

The role of SF as fashioning the real world, as a forging “providential” (xiii]) force that improves our society, etc., is again claustrophobic, hemming in the grander possibilities of artistic creation -- an experience that is complete on its own terms -- by relating them back to social pragmatism.  The case for SF as something more abstract has been made often and eloquently in other critical texts (see, for example, The Detached Retina by Brian Aldiss).  In addition, the second part of McKee’s argument, that SF may play a role in determining the religion of the future, seems naïve.  SF has already created at least one world religion (it’s called Scientology) and I for one would prefer that it didn’t repeat the experiment.  All facetiousness aside, and ignoring the content of that second component in McKee’s logic, the chain of reasoning suggests that the creation of a new religion is in itself a spiritual activity -- whether that is the case, and under what conditions, is a complex question requiring much more elaboration than is provided in the “Introduction” or subsequent sections.  Also, far from helping to fashion the real world, SF often simply captures the present, or at most the present-future.


If I’ve talked about the “Introduction” at such length, it is because it establishes McKee’s fundamental modus operandi throughout the book’s ten meaty chapters: introduce a sphere of discussion, quote numerous examples of work that attack the problem, often in simultaneously conflicting and complementary ways, and end with a few generalized remarks founded on the preceding.  One may find much room for disagreement in those closing remarks of each chapter, presented as they are with the same sense of authority as the quotes from the “Introduction.” But that is part of the fun with a book like this: the stimulation of thought, and the creation of lively debate around a vibrant genre.  (McKee maintains a well-written and informative blog,, which extends and updates the book by providing many additional examples and comments, often pertaining to just-published works.)


Publishers Weekly wrote of McKee’s book that it “contains impressive scholarship,” and browsing the recommended bibliography and index it’s not difficult to see why.  I don’t believe that McKee is attempting to offer new or original philosophy with his book, but rather to present an impressive catalogue of SF works that have tackled perennial questions.  This inventory of approaches is the book’s richest asset; it provides a plethora of relevant material one would do well to seek out, if only to formulate one’s own opinions of what the work signifies.  I challenge even the most savvy reader to walk away from each chapter without having discovered at least a few references with which they’re not directly familiar.  An added benefit of this technique is to illuminate the connections between different works that may not necessarily be juxtaposed in our minds when we think of them (for example, Gregory Benford’s “Anomalies” and John Varley’s “In Fading Suns and Dying Moons,” the link between which is illustrated in the second chapter).


In a dozen instances I found myself quietly shaking my head, but I was thankful to have been exposed to McKee’s take, and found his opinions well-argued and grounded in careful thought, even when those ideas diverged radically from my own. To McKee’s credit, I ended up evaluating certain works anew (for example, James Blish’s A Case of Conscience, which receives generous attention, as one might expect, in Chapter 5) and gaining something invaluable from this process -- a sense of the work’s depth, which weighs more heavily than any one particular interpretation thereof.


One limitation, acknowledged in the note “Some Words on Definitions and Methods,” is that this study concerns itself primarily with “Christianity and Western philosophy” xv).  Fortunately, McKee often by-passes this; a few pages into the first chapter, for example, he has found room to discuss Roger Zelazny’s Lord of Light, and one is thankful for this type of inclusion. An explicitly wider purview would certainly be desirable, though, and quite welcome in any further editions of the book.


One consequence of the thematic chapter divisions is that each chapter may be read separately as an individual essay, making the book useful as an occasional reference or for dipping into.   An unfortunate result is that there are a few clunky repetitions of plot exposition (as McKee warns, there are plenty of spoilers), a minor distraction if one reads through all chapters sequentially (for example, a summary of Philip Jose’s Farmer Riverworld series in the third chapter when examining the idea of souls, and again in the ninth chapter when discussing the afterlife).  Of course, this also begs the question of how neat such an artificial division can be: when thinking of Frederic Brown’s “Answer,” for instance, it is reasonable to posit that its “stern warning about the nature of power”(6) would best belong in a discussion of what humans Should Not Do (dating back to the warning of man’s usurpation of godly power in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein); but the latter occurs in the second chapter, while the former is referenced in the first. Still, this spillage is partially remedied by repeated mentions of key allusions, and is perhaps inevitable in any method based on idea rather than author/artist/work.


One comes away from McKee’s study with a wondrous sense of the polysemic gospel that SF sings. If SF can in fact be esteemed to comprise a religious text, then perhaps reflecting on it turns us into practitioners of hermeneutics. On the other hand, perhaps we need not go so far. It may be enough that SF provides, by a measure which Mckee’s book makes amply clear, a refutation of Hamlet’s declaration that “there are more things in heaven and earth” than are dreamt of in our philosophy.  But then again, Hamlet probably never heard of Philip K. Dick.

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Alvaro Zinos-Amaro grew up in Europe, mostly, and despite the advice of his betters he was crazy enough to earn a BS in Theoretical Physics and study creative writing. His fiction has appeared in Atomjack Magazine and will appear in a forthcoming issue of Farrago's Wainscot. Alvaro's reviews of speculative fiction and poetry appear regularly at The Fix. Look for him and say 'Hi' at the 66th WorldCon, Denvention 3 (he will be on a panel on August 7th).