TW: Death of infant
I’ve written, taught classes, and led panels about Mary Shelley and Frankenstein so often that, at a recent science fiction convention, one of my fellow panelists pointed out, “No matter what the topic is, Carrie, you always end up mentioning how much you hate Lord Byron” and I SO VERY MUCH DO! ASK ME WHY!
The point is, I seized upon Our Hideous Progeny with gimmie-gimmie hands and although I will not tell you what Victor Frankenstein’s grand-niece decides to revive, I WILL tell you that it thrilled me ALL TO BITS.
My problem with reviewing this is that I want to avoid spoilers, and that’s very difficult to do.
Basically, our protagonist and narrator, Mary Sutherland, lives in London in 1853 with her husband, Henry. Mary and Henry are both geologists and paleontologists, although generally Henry gets all the credit. They are reeling from the death of their baby, who died moments after being born, and they are struggling financially. When Henry’s father dies and they go to his ancestral home in Inverness, Mary quickly discovers (and by “quickly” I mean by the end of Chapter One) that their finances are much worse than she thought, that Henry is an utter dirtbag, and that the sister he always referred to as “The Dreaded Margaret” is a lovely, though somewhat shy and awkward, woman who prefers to be called Maisie.
Mary discovers some of her great-uncle’s notes and thinks perhaps she has found a way out of their financial predicament. Surely if she and Henry can create life from dead matter, it will cement their place in the sciences at last! What could go wrong?
Well, a lot of things go wrong, but it’s not an action book or a horror novel so much as a moody feminist queer Gothic with mad science, terrible men, and friendship between women. It’s slow paced, with a lot of science setbacks and allusions to tedious, meticulous experiments and procedures. Ethical questions abound and the role of White supremacy, patriarchy, and imperialism in Regency and Victorian-Era science does not go unaddressed.
Much of the book centers around two, and later three, people who dislike each other intensely being forced to work together in a stuffy small space, which is contrasted with the vast, lovely, and unforgiving landscape outside its doors. There’s romance, female rage, and lovely prose, and a lot of emotive weather. If these things are your jam, you will brood in a happy kind of way, as I did.
People expecting madcap adventure might be disappointed by the pace of this book, but I found plenty within to thrill me and the climax is as violent and, frankly, bonkers in just the right gothic way as the rest of the book is restrained. The relationship that develops between Maise and Mary is delightful, as is the relationship between Mary and her creation. I gnashed my teeth over those horrible, horrible men but I gloated over their fates. This book defies easy answers, instead taking one through a journey of the struggles of fierce and brilliant souls to survive a hostile world, giving an ending that is satisfying but still believable. I enjoyed this book in the summer and would REVEL in it on a rainy day, perhaps in a cozy room with a window overlooking a stormy ocean full of secrets!
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Thanks!
Sounds wonderful! Since you marked it as a B+ and not a SQUEE is it possible to expand upon what didn’t work for you? Was it just the pacing?
This sounds very intriguing, but I have to ask: why DO you hate Lord Byron? (Please tell me the answer is a fantastic rant)
This sounds fun!
(I too hate Lord Byron) (what he did to Claire Clairmont ALONE…)
Yeah, Lord Byron should be in the same class of ick as Roman Polanski and R Kelly.
You had me at vehemently hating Byron <3 Adding this to the tbr thank you!