How to Read Science Fiction

"The science-fictional world is not only one different in time or place from our own, but one whose chief interest is precisely the difference that such difference makes."
—Carl Freedman, Critical Theory and Science Fiction

At its heart, the central tenet of science fiction is the question: "What if?" Despite — or perhaps due to — its wide-ranging themes, the genre provides the perfect platform for exploring that most fundamental of ideas: the human condition.

The main difference between science fiction and related genres (such as fantasy) is that sci-fi deals with the possible — if not always the plausible. But the basics of storytelling remain the same, regardless of category: the author must establish the status quo, introduce the characters, and provide a conflict to be resolved.

The freedom of science fiction is in broadening the author's options, often with the intended goal of highlighting a current social concern (e.g., controversial research such as nanotechnology or cloning, or over-reliance on recent technological developments like the internet).

Shorter stories may rely on a gimmick — a basic assumption, carried to (or even past) its logical conclusion — to make its point, while longer stories and novels might involve a quest to be undertaken, and/or a series of challenges to be overcome.

In order to better appreciate science fiction, it may help to become aware of some of the more common tropes:

Futuristic societies are often presented as more peaceful and tolerant than our own present-day culture, save perhaps for one significant difference — which might not be apparent right away.

Everyone (regardless of intelligence, cultural sophistication, or extraplanetary origin) will generally be able to communicate with each other, except where the inability to do so becomes an important plot point.

Physics serves the plot, and not vice-versa. The most common application is with faster-than-light travel, but this also covers such far-flung examples as humanoid aliens (genetic coincidence), giant bugs (strength-to-weight ratio), and futuristic weaponry (conservation of energy).

Alien cultures can be primitive lapdogs, or evolved beyond our understanding; they're less often seen as equals . . . save perhaps in battle skill.

In addition, the choice of setting and type of conflict can reveal clues about the author's intent:

An undersupplied crew trapped on an alien planet, facing hostile natives? A test of their resourcefulness, especially if there's additional conflict from within.

The experience of waking up inside someone (or something) else's body? An exploration of the boundaries and scope of personal identity.

Alone inside an airless moon? The perfect prison cell, with the added theme of isolation.

Set in the near future — or even the present day? Exploring potential outcomes to a current situation or dilemma, perhaps as a call for timely action.

Like the proverbial butterfly flapping its wings, the simplest assumptions can create huge repercussions: Frankenstein's monster. HAL 9000. A future in which books are banned. Martian invaders. Big Brother.

One oft-used setting is the space opera, with its grand themes — Conflict, Romance, Good vs. Evil — played out on the grandest possible stage: the universe itself. As with the pulp-fiction dime novels of an earlier era, it's nearly impossible to go over the top: the larger the obstacles, the battles, the demands to one's honor and one's heart, the more its devoted followers will eat the whole thing up.

A lot of the fun of reading this genre is being able to take a break from in-depth literary analysis. Allow your imagination to soar through space, or into an alternate dimension; let the subtext lock onto you, rather than grabbing a sonic shovel and rooting it out.

Above all, remember to unleash your sense of wonder.