SFF Criticism Needs Iconoclasts Like Brian Collins

Brian Collins is among the most provocative bloggers writing about science fiction and fantasy today. They should be considered for a Hugo for best fanwriter.

Through their blog, the 28-year-old New Jersey native tackles topics that vary wildly between more staid fare such as the value of reading old science fiction, to more incendiary ideas such as the role that military science fiction has played in rationalizing genocide. Their work tends to be engaging, interesting, well-reasoned, and highly readable. 

In an insightful blog post,
Collins points out that
military SFF sometimes
wears its pro-genocide
politics on its sleeve. 
(Image via goodreads)

Over the past four years, Collins has amassed an enviable set of bylines. They began their blogging at Young People Read Old SFF in 2021, contributing to collaborative discussions in the project that Hugo finalist James Davis Nichol curates. Subsequently, they started their own blog at SFF Remembrance, reviewing stories in their original context, as they were first published in magazines. They’ve also contributed to Galactic Journey, Journey Planet, and to Tor.com.

Examining older works in context is one of Collins’ ongoing projects. Each of these reviews — which they publish almost every week — discuss the author’s background, where the work fits into the author’s career, what the publishing magazine was like at the time, etc. Opting for a more conversational style, Collins peppers their writing with asides and interesting digressions. Some highlights include Brian Aldiss’ Hothouse (short story), Damon Knight’s Earth Quarter, and Wyman Guin’s Beyond Bedlam.

Collins wears their politics on their sleeve, and reads through an intersectional lens. Though they’re agnostic, there’s a subtext of liberation theology that runs through much of their analysis — which makes sense given that they took a minor in religious studies while pursuing film studies at Elon University. When discussing the work of Manly Wade Wellman, for example, Collin’s examination of the Angolan-born author’s character and contradictory career add richness to the interpretation of the story.

Brian Collins writes fearlessly, expressing opinions that seem heartfelt even when they go against the public consensus. Some of their iconoclasm can likely be chalked up to the hotheadedness of youth — but at the same time, this willingness to disregard tin gods can lead to interesting insight. This is most evident when they tackle more complex matters in their Observatory editorials. Their piece on Starship Troopers is one of our favourite critiques of Heinlein published in recent memory. To quote from the editorial: 

“Starship Troopers is one of the most famous and misremembered “canonical” SF novels; and unfortunately, no matter how you look at it, it also set a horrible precedent from which the genre still has not recovered. It’s totally possible the genre will never recover from such an impact so long as there are creative minds in the field (and by extension likeminded readers) who believe in Heinlein’s argument: that sometimes extermination is the only option.”

Although they’re a relatively new voice in the SFF community, Brian Collins deserves consideration for the Hugo Award for Best Fan Writer. They’re a writer with a lot of talent, and we look forward to seeing what they do next.

A Future Philosophy Of Justice

There’s a lot to recommend Gautam Bhatia’s new novel The Sentence; the book has compelling characters, an engaging plot, and often delightfully urbane turns of phrase. But the real star of the show is the speculative legal system at the heart of the story.

Set in an India-inspired alternate future city state called Permua, The Sentence follows Nila, a graduating student of law who is commissioned to investigate an assassination. The crime occurred almost 100 years in the past and the convict has been in suspended animation pending an appeal. The deadline for appeals ends at the 100 year mark, after which the cryogenic suspension pod is switched off permanently.

The Sentence is a meditation on
governance, on the death penalty
and on how we construct history.
(Image via Goodreads)

Bhatia has created this setting with evident care; centuries of history permeate the conflicts that tear at the city of Permua. Characters are informed by class-related aspects of this background and the weight of history makes the setting feel more immersive. This history is clearly inspired by real-world history (including the Paris Commune). At times, however, this depth of history can also bog down the story.

Permua — riven between two halves separated by class conflict — has adopted a legal system that depends on neutral arbiters, known as “guardians,” who have to forsake their upbringing and live a quasi-monastic life after completing law school. Consequently, Nila is torn between the anarchist commune in which she was raised, and the guardian culture in which she is apprenticing.

One of the most endearing relationships in the novel is between Nila and her high-born classmate Meru. Although the duo share a reverence for the law — and an allegiance to the guardian system to which they have dedicated their careers — their disparate class backgrounds inform their thinking and the interactions between them, often to entertaining effect.

These characters are well developed, with internally consistent personal philosophies informing their actions and interpersonal conflicts. These distinct points of view help the narrative avoid the didacticism of many other works in social science fiction. This is not a book filled with easy answers, nor absolutes. Rather, it sometimes feels like a constructive intellectual debate between students of philosophy and political science. There’s an effervescent quality to the book that makes it a joy to read, especially for policy nerds.

Legal systems in science fiction too often mirror the courtroom dramas that populate American television, possibly because it can be more difficult to offer counternarratives to established social structures and hegemonic ideas than it is to imagine differences in technology. The fact that Bhatia’s alternate legal system is one that is believable and engaging speaks to both his skill as a writer, and the clarity of his thinking.

Bhatia has a gift for aphorisms, and the novel is peppered with succinct and pithy observations such as “economic wounds make it so much harder to live your ideals.” Another favourite passage describes a building whose architect wanted it to be known as “The Fortress of Dreaming Spires,” but that the result was more of “a bedraggled hedgehog.” At times, the politically charged wry humour and wit of lines like these had us reminiscing about the 1980s sitcom Yes, Minister.

In a world unafraid of technology and unburdened by monopsony, The Sentence would be easily available in North American bookshops and online retailers, but its publisher Westland Books does not have wide distribution outside of India. It is worth tracking down a copy. The Sentence is among the best novels published this year.