The best sci-fi books about world destroyers, egomaniacs, and mad scientists

I really connected with evil genius Doctor Impossible and his whacky world of superheroes. In grade and high school, I felt like I was the one who was overlooked, which was often the good days; getting noticed generally meant I was being made fun of and bullied. But to take revenge, to show my plebeian classmates the (imagined) might that lay within me, how glorious that would be! Hahaha! Evil laugh aside, as Doctor Impossible does just that, I also enjoyed his vulnerable needs, longings, and regrets. And the lives of the heroes are not all they are cracked up to be. While not as stark (or violent) as The Boys, Grossman also exposes the toll superhero biology can take on the mind and body. A fun and poignant read.

I went into this with a vision of the classic Frankenstein monster in my head from the James Whale movies—a square head and sparkplugs poking out of his neck. I love Whale’s aesthetic (especially his Bride of Frankenstein), but it doesn’t do justice to Shelley’s prose as Dr. Frankenstein looks in horror upon his creation. “I had gazed on him while unfinished; he was ugly then, but when those muscles and joints were rendered capable of motion, it became a thing such as even Dante could not have conceived.” This lyricism drew me in and made me realize that’s why I love to be a writer: like Dr. F., I get to play god—no matter the unhealthy obsession nor the horror of some of the monsters I create.

Given my belief that Thanos had a point (what science-math-oriented person can’t tremble at the algorithm of over-population?), it’s no surprise I enjoyed an anthology of different takes on mad scientists and what drives them. I got my fix of humorously boastful ego-maniacs, such as Professor Incognito’s itemized “apology” to his girlfriend (with attempted sincerity because of their couple’s therapist). And the variety of these tales exposed me to a bevy of villainy, from a psychologist who uses the “soft” sciences to unleash the insanity within stable scientists because “everyone deserves the opportunity to go mad” to a side-hustling villainy coach whose budget forces her to choose between new tech plating or weapons-grade plutonium. What’s a would-be world conqueror to do? Relatable.

Emperor Mollusk is the evil genius I’ve been waiting for—having conquered earth (and alienated the rest of the galaxy), he’s retired from world domination to pursue (mad) science for the sake of science. He’s got just enough sense of responsibility to stick around to protect earth’s denizens while his inflated ego allows him to ignore that his creations are often what’s putting the planet in peril. Arguments over nomenclature (is it a reverse temporal receiver or an anti-time radio?) made this lol funny, and the fast pace kept me turning pages. I love a good mashup, and this had the right mix of sci-fi archetypes, including a lizard warrior, a Tarzan-like alien in a dinosaur land, an Atlantean goddess, and of course the mysterious “Brain” in an exosuit. 

Dr. Jekyll’s point of view triggers so much in me, I couldn’t leave his story off the list. I’m currently obsessed with Integrated Family Systems (IFS) therapy, which is all about everyone having different parts. IFS posits that none of these parts are bad, but when Dr. Jekyll cleaves himself into disparate halves, his Mr. Hyde runs amok and is very much characterized as evil. Hyde’s a clear allegory for addiction and rage. Other qualities, like sex, are unfortunately largely ignored. Reading this through a modern lens, I longed for messages of integration (rather than the judgey disintegration that follows). As an author, maybe that’s what draws me to this story—a desire to rewrite it with a healthier (woke?) ending.