The Three-Body Problem; a review

An existential thriller that is not just haunting, but also depicts the fragility of our collective human ego against the vast backdrop of the universe.

The Three-Body Problem; a review
Photo by Adrien Converse / Unsplash

An existential thriller that is not just haunting, but also depicts the fragility of our collective human ego against the vast backdrop of the universe.

"The Three-Body Problem" drops us into the midst of the cultural revolution in China. This was a turbulent period in my own family's history[1] that was described not only by the expository recounts of my grandparents but also by the words left unsaid.[2] In this historical timeline, the fuse is set for the destruction of humanity. As the novel jumps to the present day, the lines between reality and the unknown blur, hinting at an extraterrestrial threat looming on the horizon.

To have ethnically Chinese characters in a novel was refreshing. The directness of the dialogue in the translated text felt more realistic in the context of Eastern media than other critics give it credit for, especially sounding it out in my head in Mandarin. Nevertheless, it is important to recognise that the two-dimensional characters are primarily a conduit for Liu's broader philosophical exploration.

Despite its straightforward plot and dialogue, by no means is "The Three-Body Problem" an easy text to read through. It isn't post-modern like Pynchon, nor stream-of-consciousness like Joyce, but it takes pride in requiring at least a moderate grasp of the physical sciences to comfortably visualise its world. If you pass the science test though, it reads as a thriller, blending enigmatic physical phenomena, secret organisations, speculative sci-fi and a relentless pursuit of truth.

The cataclysmic event at the centre of the story unfolds across five decades like a Rube Goldberg machine.[3] It serves as a cautionary tale for modern scientific rationalism, explaining that our penchant for innovation is intertwined with the resulting arms races. Since it is in our nature to be ambitious and tribal, the consequent brutality is nigh impossible to disentangle from our nature. Such a lesson has been taught by our shared human history, from blue-sea navies leading to colonialism, and splitting the atom resulting in earth-shaking bombs.

After reading, a whirlwind of existential questions lingers. Will scientific rationalism be our salvation or demise? Do we bear an ethical responsibility to future generations? Do we live in paradise? The novel is, in my favourite way, not just entertainment, but grass for our ruminating mind.

Liu Cixin's poignant afterword encourages a shift in perspective, advocating for kindness and understanding among the diverse peoples and civilisations that constitute the human race. In essence, "The Three-Body Problem" invites readers to reflect not only on the stars above but also on the interconnected tapestry of life on Earth.[4]


  1. To say the least. In short, it was a devastating period of what was essentially an Eastern flavour of Stalinism during the USSR. ↩︎

  2. It is fitting that Liu Cixin moved the opening chapter to the middle of the book in the domestic print to escape Chinese censors. ↩︎

  3. Much like WWI - the war that "had to happen". ↩︎

  4. "On Earth, humankind can step onto another continent, and without a thought, destroy the kindred civilisations found there through warfare and disease. But when they gaze up at the stars, they turn sentimental and believe that if extraterrestrial intelligences exist, they must be civilisations bound by universal, noble, moral constraints, as if cherishing and loving different forms of life are parts of a self-evident universal code of conduct. I think it should be the opposite: Let's turn the kindness we show toward the stars to members of the human race on Earth and build up the trust and understanding between the different peoples and civilisations that make up humanity." ↩︎