Category Archives: Vol. 7 No. 1

Faculty Introduction for “Victor Saparin’s ‘The Trial of Tantalus’: A Utopian Depiction of the Khrushchev Thaw Period?”

Read “Victor Saparin’s ‘The Trial of Tantalus’: A Utopian Depiction of the Khrushchev Thaw Period?”.

In my Perspectives on the Humanities course, Science Fiction in Three Media, few students got excited about the Soviet SF stories we read. I could hardly blame them: the ideological restrictions imposed on Soviet writers in the 1960s meant that science fiction had to operate within a narrow range of acceptable expression. Depictions of extraterrestrial life had to confirm that any advanced civilization must have achieved a one-party, socialist world-state; scientists either solved technical problems or declared that some future scientist would undoubtedly solve them, because Marxist-Leninist anthropology took as axiomatic the human conquest of the material universe. Yet I urged students to read Soviet SF not despite but for these apparent limitations, to see how some writers flirted with alternatives to them, or even subtly mocked them. (See, for example, anything by the Strugatsky Brothers.) Deng Kexin became so keen on this mode of reading that she built her late-semester research project around it, developing a carefully historicist reading of Yuri Saparin’s “Trial of Tantalus”—a superficially utopian story about an emergent disease. Kexin’s research led her into the scholarship on such topics as western depictions of politics in SF, cycles of freeze and thaw in one-party states, and the role of elections in the Soviet Union. The final essays in POH often impressed me with their ambition, heft, and execution, but none more than Kexin’s.

—Ezra Claverie, Lecturer in the Writing Program

I’m Not Well-Versed

Hideko Mitani

Read the Faculty Introduction.

As I am paying the old 阿姨 behind the counter, I cannot help but zone out. I blankly smile at her and nod, not quite sure what I was agreeing to or if she was asking a question I was meant to respond to but was too busy pretending to be a local for my mediocre Chinese skills to go unnoticed. I quickly bag my groceries before there is any more time for the 阿姨 to make small talk, but it doesn’t take her much to realize I am not from here.She asks, “你是来自哪里?” (where are you from?). My heart sank a little as I answered with the exact same phrase I always use to introduce myself no matter the language, “我的妈妈是中国人。 我的爸爸是日本人。 但是我是在智利出生长大” (My mom is Chinese, my dad is Japanese, but I was born and raised in Chile). Saying these words in my noticeable foreign accent came with a stabbing feeling in the gut. This time, I did not have the upper hand of boasting my Chinese and Japanese background like I used to in Chile, deluding people into believing I am more well-versed in my heritage than I am. I can’t precisely remember how the conversation followed. I can imagine the 阿姨 said something along the lines of “Oh, that is so interesting, so you must speak many languages?” or at least that is what I am used to assuming based on my past experiences. Walking back to the dorms felt like a walk of shame, where the sense of failure I thought I had conquered was looming over me. This moment was ready to take away all the courage I mustered to accept I was never going to be  well-versed in the necessary subtext to intimately understand my Chinese heritage and culture, much less the Japanese side of my background.

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