There has long been a narrative precedent for the perceived allegiance of women and the dangers of nature. It may be most prominent in horror fiction (as described in “Men, Women and Chainsaws” by Carol Clover, which is some really interesting gender scholarship!) – the woman and the monster are often one and the same, or working in tandem, or two sides of the same coin. Regardless of the exact nature of their connection, it is almost always present, and almost always presents a far stronger bond than that between the monster and the male characters. In horror, nature (and therefore women) often has supernatural trappings. But in science fiction, the natural world is seen through a scientific lens: as something to be studied and controlled. I view all storytelling, especially genre storytelling, as inherently connected, so I was interested in examining how the highly gendered conflict between humanity and nature changes when transpiring in a science-fiction setting.

In “Send Me A Kiss By Wire”, there are two women: the scientist and the squid. At first glance, it follows the whole “women are closest to the evil” theory pretty splendidly. Emily Bascom is more knowledgeable about the squid than anyone else in the story; it is on her insistence and initiative that they seek to trap the creature and study it.

There is a confounding element: Emily is very much allied with the forces of science and reason. Her (all-male) colleagues and interviewers literally obsess over the squid’s sex and sexuality – cracking crude jokes about its anatomy, imposing chauvinistic and patronizing stereotypes and outdated gender roles – whereas Emily’s dialogue primarily consists of a barrage of factual-sounding squid knowledge. The narrative defines her as more professional, more experienced, and more intelligent than her male companions, because she prioritizes the science of the situation. It’s an unusual characterization for a woman, considering the time at which the story was published and the fact that it was written by a man.

I was impressed with that – up until the actual squid encounter, when the story’s treatment of gender and science gets topsy-turvy. Emily believed she understood the squid, because she knew a lot of facts about it. Apparently, she was either wrong or misguided, because all of the characters almost get eaten, and she is reduced to falling “against her husband in dismay or defeat”. All her science was in folly – the squid was too big and too powerful to be captured and analyzed. A force of nature painted in extremely gendered terms.

Is this a punishment for Emily, for presuming that a woman could outshine the men in her field? I don’t think it’s quite that simple. The narrative consistently reinforces that Emily is smarter and more dedicated than her peers; more deserving of legitimate achievement than the goons snickering about squid sex. And then there is the squid itself: also a woman, also more powerful than its male counterpart, also angry. Early in the story, one man makes referring to the squid sex act as “penetration”, and later, that exact word is used to describe what the female squid attempts to do to the ship. Perhaps there is a suggestion that the squids are not bound by the gender constructions the men try, over and over again, to enforce on them. Maybe the female squid is a force of persecuting femininity, not unlike an expression Emily’s rage at not being taken seriously.

“Send Me a Kiss by Wire” pits an angry, academic woman against an angry woman completely devoid of academic reasoning (I mean, presumably, unless these are supposed to be sentient squids and I missed that part). The men aren’t very useful or interesting elements of the conflict. All they can see is “a woman scorned.”