Science fiction, popular around the world in print and film, is a major outlet for cultural expression, in particular cultural anxieties about our changing world. In this light, it is both notable and regrettable that reception studies has only recently begun to engage deeply with the rich material science fiction has to offer. There are thankfully many signs to indicate that this situation is changing, none more than the appearance of the book under review. R. and S., who have previously organised panels and recently an entire conference on the topic, have produced a timely and inspiring book. This volume, the first on the subject to appear in English (preceded in 2014 by M. Bost-Fievet and S. Porvini's L'antiquité dans l'imaginaire contemporain), firmly establishes science fiction as a major field of classical reception work, setting a rich stage for scholarly reflection and future research.

In the introduction, R. and S. begin by noting the example of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein (1818), whose subtitle ‘or, A Modern Prometheus' serves as an illustrative case study of the enduring appeal of the classical world in speculative/science fiction (the book throughout prudently adopts the neutral moniker ‘SF’ to avoid the distraction of endless arguments over genre definition). There is an apologetic tone as they tackle the anxiety of relevance: if SF as a genre creates a fictional setting in the imagined future (typically) and Classics deals with the lived events and cultural products of an actual past, what do they have in common? Their answer is that both Classics and SF are particularly well suited to speak directly into many of the pressing ethical and epistemological concerns around what it means to be human. Furthermore, as the subsequent chapters readily show, SF routinely finds the classical past useful in its explorations of such questions. They additionally propose the validity of reading some ancient works as SF by grouping them together under the term ‘knowledge fiction’, characterised by the author's engagement with contemporary epistemologies. This fits into the book's overall project to bring Classics and SF together, and while I remain sceptical regarding the ultimate usefulness of the ‘knowledge fiction’ paradigm, the overall project succeeds.

The chapters are organised into four parts. Part 1 looks at early modern SF (and even proto-SF) texts that reveal an ongoing discourse with the classical past in the service of their scientific and ethical themes. Starting in the 1600s, D. Swinford examines Kepler's Somnium (1634) as an important link in the history of classical reception in SF, noting the ways that Kepler uses Plutarch and Lucian as sources to write imaginatively about life on the moon while doing so within a ‘modern’ scientific framework. J. Weiner examines the influence of both Lucretius and Lucan (such as their respective gigantomachy imagery) on the literary mood and ethical orientation of Shelley's Frankenstein. S. writes about both explicit and implicit Virgilian echoes in Jules Verne's Journey to the Center of the Earth (1867), acts of reception that ultimately serve an epistemological programme in which the true epic hero emerges as the ‘modern scientific man’. The moon takes centre stage again in A. Keen's study of the impact of Lucian's True History – especially its satiric tone – upon H.G. Wells's The First Men in the Moon (1901).

Part 2 takes on a set of SF classics beginning with G. Bucher's analysis of Forbidden Planet (1956), the book's first chapter to cover SF in film (and one of the volume's standout pieces). He argues convincingly for the film's deep ‘Sophoclean heart’ grounded in both Oedipus Rex and Aristotle's Poetics, emphasising the dramatic moment of tragic recognition at the film's climax. E. Grayson analyses the cyclical time structure of Walter M. Miller's A Canticle for Leibowitz (1960), which he argues finds its cultural roots in ancient Pythagorean and Stoic notions of time, thus pairing humanity's craving for scientific knowledge with the rise-and-fall cycle of ancient empires. J. Christensen reads Frank Herbert's Dune (1965) as a thorough revision of the ancient epic narrative tradition, showing how within its fictional world the past and future are mythically appropriated as ‘a consciously heroic narrative’ for the needs of given storytellers, thus providing a modern commentary on the power of myth-making. R. Raphael closes the section by examining the SF trope of hybrid creatures in connection to Ridley Scott's Blade Runner (1982); ancient hybrids in myth are not seen as threats to the social order, whereas SF cyborgs and androids are seen as potentially dangerous monsters in an essentially material world driven by unchecked technological advancement.

Part 3 addresses three SF films and television series set in outer space, starting with G. Kovacs's excellent chapter on the original Star Trek series (1966–69). The show repeatedly uses Graeco-Roman antiquity as a way to connect contemporary audiences with the futuristic setting via a shared ‘historical and mythical past’, a cultural triangle that also set the humanistic and scientific ideals of the Enterprise crew in contrast to the alien ‘classical’ cultures. R. reads Homer's Odyssey alongside Alien: Resurrection (1997), not arguing for conscious reception but finding a shared ‘transcultural poetics' (p. 22) in the themes of the homeward journey and the boundaries of our own humanity. The television reboot of Battlestar Galactica (2003–09) is the focus of V. Tomasso's chapter, who argues that the show's explicit references to classical antiquity function mythically to encourage audience reflection on their own western values while also suggesting the preserving value of the mythic over the techno-scientific.

Part 4 opens with G. Grobéty's reflection on Dan Simmons' Ilium (2003), a conscious rewriting of the events of the Iliad set in the future; he focuses on the concept of the epiphany to explore the ways in which the novel replaces the Homeric divine machinery with the primacy of modern individualism. M. Makins admirably analyses the classical elements embedded within the Hunger Games trilogy (2008–10), arguing that the novels reconfigure the existing Hollywood stereotype of Roman imperial decadence in order to assist the audience in critical reflection upon issues of social justice and political dissatisfaction. C.W. Marshall then considers Jonathan Hickman's graphic novel Pax Romana (2007–8) and sees in its plot – a pope in the future sends a Catholic army back in time to the age of Constantine – a thought experiment in imagining a SF world whose alternative timeline shares with our own the classical world and SF itself. R. Cape concludes the volume with an appendix that compiles a sampling of SF books and films with classical connections for stimulating future research and reflection. There is a full bibliography and index.

This book is recommended for anyone interested in classical reception or SF generally. New and engaging ideas abound in every chapter. Taken together, they reveal that the more SF looks to the future to make sense of the present, the more it finds grounding in the human models of the past. As with any book, one can find minor quibbles, but none that detract from the overall volume. The quality of the papers is generally high. The editing is excellent, and chapters often reference each other in the footnotes. The target audience is clearly an academic one, but perhaps this and future endeavours will create the foundation for future work that is more accessible to a mainstream audience (as has been slowly happening over the past couple of decades with classics and film studies). In a recent editorial in Classical Receptions Journal 6.3 (2014), L. Hardwick challenged the field to do more in studying classical reception in popular culture. This volume succeeds admirably in picking up that banner, as it demonstrates beyond question the value of studying Classics and SF together.