The Three-Body Problem Essay Questions

Several sections of the novel deviate from the third-person past-tense perspective in which most of the book is written. What does the perspective shift in these sections accomplish? Pick one instance to discuss in detail.

Chapter 13, Red Coast III, takes the form of a series of redacted documents that reveal efforts by the Chinese government to contact aliens. These documents are said to be declassified three years after our main story, which places the reader outside of the characters’ timeline. This reveals that this apocalyptic story won’t end too quickly—the reader is now "part" of the book's timeline. The lack of narrative voice requires the reader to parse through the documents and draw their own conclusions from the text (still led by the author, but in a less obvious way than narration). The redactions create a sense of realism while slimming down the chapter, and the section feels like a piece of environmental storytelling—as if we’ve stumbled onto a primary text, confirming the story while explaining it.

In Chapter 25, Ye Wenjie is interrogated about the deaths of Commissar Lei and Dr. Yang. This chapter largely appears as a transcript, as does Chapter 30, in which the interrogation continues. Similar to the declassified documents, the transcript form asks the reader to take a more active role in interpreting the story, as there is no narrator to act as a guide. There is some level of omniscience, however, as the interrogator asks a question while claiming they “won’t record the answer” (p. 287)—an answer the reader still has access to. At times, Chapter 25 seems to bring us closer to Ye, as she narrates in first-person perspective, yet even her storytelling feels distanced and mechanical as she explains the process of killing her husband. There’s little discussion of her emotions, because, as she states, she “did it without feeling anything” (p. 287).

The novel contains moments that are echoed elsewhere in the text. What do these mirrored sections do?

Generally, mirrored sections are fruitful for compare/contrast essays. When an author presents something multiple times, the scenes or images create a dialogue with each other, and we can learn more about the meaning of all of them, with later ones informing earlier ones and vice versa. The Three-Body Problem uses this frequently. Some examples include: Different characters explain complex theories to Wang Miao, generally using real-world items; Da Shi arrives in moments of despair, usually smoking; Ye Wenjie is surrounded by children; Ye Wenjie sees sunrises and sunsets. One could even see Wang Miao's interest in landscape photography as an allegory for the novel's own interest in balanced narrative composition. Wang's revelation that his photographs were all missing Yang Dong at the center would then provide a clue to the narration as a whole.

Another of the novel's pivotal mirrored scenes is that of Ye Wenjie and the listener.

One example of mirroring in the text is in Liu's descriptions of Ye Wenjie receiving a message from Trisolaris, and the listener receiving a message from Earth. Not only is the content similar (sad, lonely person receives a message; decides what to do; sends message), the images and vocabulary are at times identical (ex: "and, for the first time, a [human/Trisolaran] read a message from another world" (pages 272 and 349)).

The manner in which the listener’s introduction echoes Ye's passages gives the reader an immediate window into this new character’s psyche. As the listener is only present for a short chapter, efficiency is key, and the listener is immediately familiar because he seems so much like Ye. The similarities also invite comparison between the two. While both are despondent when they receive their message, the listener responds with a warning and pacifism, while Ye invites violence. Both also betray their own species—the listener by warning Earth, and Ye by welcoming invasion. Their similarities could be read even further, to connect human and Trisolaran societies—because the listener is like Ye, the Trisolarans are automatically humanized (and maybe humans are less special as a result; if Trisolarans can be so humanlike, it certainly strengthens the case for their survival).

As we discuss further in other sections of the guide, the similarities between Ye and the listener can be read as insight into Ye herself, since she's the one who's imagining the listener, based on the files taken from Judgment Day. Regardless of whether the listener's narrative is "real" or fabricated by Ye Wenjie, it's still important to think about these mirrored sections next to each other—after all, if Liu Cixin didn't want them to mirror each other, he could easily have written them differently.

Many other scientists are led to insanity, disillusionment, and suicide in The Three-Body Problem. What factors allow Wang Miao to survive the realization that the laws of physics are broken, unlike these other scientists?

Despite being harassed by police, kept in the dark by generals who say they need his help, and targeted by hyper-intelligent atoms that make him hallucinate, Wang Miao stays surprisingly sane throughout The Three-Body Problem. First of all, his focus on nanotechnology, or practical/applied science, separates him from those “exploring the forefront of theory” (p. 71), such as Yang Dong, whose death is essentially an entry point to the story for Wang. This idea is echoed by Ye, who wishes her daughter had more than “ethereal theories” (p. 116) to lean on.

Wang's love of photography also gives him an edge here. Instead of using particle accelerators and reactors, Wang experiments with sophons and the crumbling laws of physics through photography. This provides him with some distance from the issue. He is not immediately confronted with the breakdown of fundamental physics; instead, perhaps his film is spoiled, or there was a problem in processing. The countdown he sees is also much more personal: physics is not simply breaking, it is breaking for him, at him.

His sometimes combative, sometimes comradely relationship to Da Shi helps Wang's character stay intact as well. Da Shi's everyman perspective grounds Wang and engages him in ideas other than the collapse of fundamental physics, even as it annoys him. When Ding Yi and Wang are ready to fall into a pit of despair, Da Shi takes them to see bugs, and his quiet wisdom keeps them sane.

It is unclear if Liu is trying to convey a message about the value of unorthodox thinking within the sciences and how we should embrace alternative perspectives in our wider lives, or if Wang really survives due to a perfect storm—that luck and (perhaps it really is this simple) his importance to the narrative are what keep him alive and sane.

What do you consider the main factor that led Ye Wenjie to contact the Trisolarans?

Ye’s first transmission into interstellar space appears to be driven by curiosity and ambition. Her realization that transmitting radio waves at the sun will amplify them to the level of a type 2 civilization on the Kardashev scale is a technological breakthrough worth pursuing for its academic value. She is also bored—she’s an overqualified technician, politically exiled, expecting to spend the rest of her days locked in this gray facility, and sending a message to the stars is exciting. Her curiosity and the opportunity drive her to send a message to the stars.

However, after eight years have passed—enough time for her first signal to be received and responded to by the Trisolaran listener—her boredom has grown to despondency and hatred. Her ambition has been quashed by the slow decline of the Red Coast Base facility, and her environmentalist tendency has twisted into a burgeoning misanthropy. This latter point is not a factor in her decision to first send a message to space, but is emphasized in the pages leading to her second message. The narrator describes her “rational consideration of humanity’s evil side” (p. 269) driven by the logging of nearby forests as well as her own isolation and alienation. She is also listless and lonely when the Trisolaran message reaches her. The message she receives is a warning, “Do not answer!” (p. 272), but the line “Your world will be conquered!” (p. 273) is more of a draw than a deterrent to her. No doubt she would have responded either way, but the prospect of the Trisolarans conquering the human race she has grown to despise is too perfect for her to leave alone.

Ultimately, it is perhaps her opportunism that leads to her contacting the Trisolarans. Her ambition and boredom drive her to the first message, while hatred and alienation direct the second, but it is her opportunistic nature—her knack for waiting until the time is right to make historic decisions—that drives them both.

This novel is the first in a trilogy that will eventually span millions of years, multiple galactic civilizations, and the possible death of the universe. Do you find that The Three-Body Problem was satisfying as a standalone narrative? Why or why not? Use features of the novel to explain your reasoning.

There are many structurally satisfying elements to The Three-Body Problem, which does technically function as a standalone novel. The novel ends with the "sunset" of Ye Wenjie, the protagonist we've been with since the first chapter, spanning nearly 50 years. Her character arc isn't told chronologically, but the book opens with her at her youngest point, and it ends with her watching the sunset as an old woman, from the ruins of the Red Coast Base, over the cliff where she killed her husband to protect Trisolaris's secret. The multiple sunrises in the novel—including the one immediately following her second message to Trisolaris, before learning she's pregnant—make this final sunset image a definitive structural bookend.

Another satisfying component of The Three-Body Problem as a standalone novel is that the main "mystery" has been solved—that is, the mystery of Wang Miao's countdown. At the end of the novel, we know the who, what, how, and why of the countdown's mystery. The first extraterrestrial contact of the novel is bookended by the Trisolarans' last-ever transmission, which is sent to everyone involved in the story, not just Wang. Not only is he not crazy, he was right—and everyone knows it.

However, many would argue that despite resolving the protagonists' arcs and the novel's instigating mystery, as a narrative sets out to do, The Three-Body Problem is difficult to read as a satisfying standalone story. Since the novel is the first in a trilogy, this makes sense; Liu Cixin wants us to pick up the next book, so numerous questions are left for the reader. (Such as: How will Earth prepare for the invasion? How will society advance? Will it really take 400+ years? Are the Adventists really destroyed?)

While these cliffhangers lead to a somewhat unsatisfying conclusion to The Three-Body Problem, they're worth thinking about as a device, because the novel's structure makes these cliffhangers particularly effective. Most cliffhangers ask "What happens next?"; these cliffhangers attempt to ask "What happens to us next?"

The novel clearly positions the reader as part of the story's world—we're given "firsthand" redacted Red Coast Base documents that were released three years after the events of the novel; we're pulled forward and backward in time, given access to privileged information—and when we're positioned in the story's world, the cliffhangers are meant to be our cliffhangers. The novel functionally leaves the reader alongside Wang Miao and Shi Qiang, living in that window of time before the invasion. When one buys into the reality of the book, the cliffhangers tell us: The Trisolaran invasion is currently on the way; these redacted documents are accompanied by others, which we can find to save humanity from extermination (or not, if you side with the Adventists).