The Scientist as God: A Typological Study of a Literary Motif, 1818 to the Present  . By SvenWagner . Heidelberg : Universitätsverlag Winter , 2012 . 263 pages. Hardcover €44 .

How easily the description “playing God” slips off the tongue! It has long been a recourse of those who resent the machinations of over‐ambitions scientists seeking unprecedented powers over nature. As a derogatory trope, it provides a colourful metaphor in suggesting that the scientific project in question exceeds the boundaries of discretion and wisdom. Just as often, if not more frequently, the accusation “playing God” stems from religious concerns about the hubris of scientists who are seen as usurping roles traditionally assigned to a Creator, as when seeking to create living things, mould them through genetic engineering, or intervene controversially in natural processes. It is a familiar theme in literature on science and religion, and indeed in popular culture where Mary Shelley's Frankenstein has iconic status as a cautionary, tragic tale.

The association of “playing God” with tragedy is, however, only one of several literary genres that Sven Wagner explores in his exciting and original book. Based on a doctoral dissertation completed at the University of Bochum in 2009, this is a study that reveals how pervasive the motif has been in Anglophone literature, and indeed in that of other linguistic cultures. Some “scientist‐as‐god” texts, such as H. G. Wells's The Island of Dr. Moreau, are almost as well known as Frankenstein, but Wagner has unearthed several less familiar works to demonstrate how novels of the genre adopt widely divergent attitudes towards the scientist and his godlike project. The great strength of the book derives from the sophisticated techniques of literary criticism that enable the author to achieve a refined analysis of his exemplary texts. His approach is primarily typological. Novels exploring the fate of scientists who play god may be didactic tragedies; they may be combinations of tragedy and theological allegory; they may combine tragedy with comedy and satire—in some cases with theological allegory as well, as in Margaret Atwood's Oryx and Crake (2003). In Bernard Shaw's Pygmalion, Wagner locates another type—a comic reworking of the Frankenstein myth, as Henry Higgins refers to his “creation of a Duchess Eliza,” a creation out of the “squashed cabbage leaves of Covent Garden.”

For readers of Zygon, one of the most interesting facets of Wagner's study will be his detection of theological allegory in works that are routinely categorized simply as cautionary tales. One of his main theses is that several authors, including Mary Shelley, who depict the scientist as godlike were not simply drawing attention to the baleful consequences of hubris. Rather, they were ingeniously engaged in a critique of theology. Their narratives, as allegories, hint at a god who has not played god well enough—in making a world so badly flawed. As Wagner puts it, “the allegory in these works presents god as an incompetent mad scientist, rather than as a transcendently perfect being” (229). This narrowing of the gap between human and divine is skilfully discussed with reference to Atwood's novel. The scientist, Crake, appears as a fairly godlike figure in that he creates a race of posthumans who are almost perfectly virtuous. However, he can also be viewed as a cold‐blooded murderer who commits specicide to achieve his aims. Wagner is particularly successful in teasing out such ambiguities and in expounding the theocritical allegories, which in this case call into question the perfections of the biblical God. It is difficult to find original things to say about Shelley's Frankenstein, but Wagner manages to do so, drawing on an allegorical reading to argue that if God is merely the archetypal mad scientist, there is no reason why humans, including scientists, should not seek to take his place. The allegory portrays a quasi‐human God and hints at the possibility of a godlike humanity. In that respect it “weakens the conservative, anti‐hubris message of the novel” (229).

In his concluding remarks, the author notes that even the texts that offer the most positive portrayal of a godlike science do not reject the proviso that science needs to be controlled. His discussion also reveals that in these literary works the attempt to rival God through science is a male project. He astutely observes that four of the five characters depicted as resisting their maker are women, for example Eliza in Shaw's Pygmalion and Bella in Alasdair Gray's Poor Things (1992), where Wagner counts more than a hundred references to the scientist as “God.” Hence his suggestive remark, based on the sexuality of the scientists depicted, that their methods of creating life in the lab may be motivated by the desire to circumvent the female and the feminine. Another telling observation is that in the scientist‐as‐god texts, the quest for divine power is never accompanied by a desire for divine love. Frankenstein and Moreau die because they fail to love and show compassion for their creatures, who kill them because of the cruelty they have received from them. Despite the many contrasts Wagner finds between the novels he has analyzed, there is this overriding moral: although science may potentially equip humanity with near‐divine powers, it cannot generate the compassion and love necessary for altruistic application. Not perhaps a surprising conclusion, but one that springs here from a penetrating analysis of imaginative literature.

This is a book that will surely appeal to those who have been attracted to Philip Hefner's characterization of the scientist/technologist as a “created co‐Creator.” By many conservative theologians, this formula has been considered too presumptuous in its tacit elevation of the human. A preference for “created collaborator” is sometimes expressed on the ground that no creation ex nihilo is available to humankind. Wagner's book, fastidious almost to a fault in its filigree analysis of the meaning of tragedy, brings important and refreshing new perspectives to bear on this debate drawn from a range of sources rarely considered in this context, or rarely considered with such insight.