FRANKENSTEIN SUNDAE--finally uploaded!

I have finally uploaded to Kindle Direct my memoir about chasing Mary Shelley for decades; I serialized it here (for more than three years!) as Frankenstein Sundae, and that is how it appears now. It will soon be available on Kindle Direct on Amazon's site ($4.99)--and you do not need a Kindle device to purchase/read the book. Kindle apps are free for your tablet and/or smart phone.

Here's the Preface ...

Preface

This is not a biography of Mary Shelley—except when it is. It is, principally, a memoir about my decades-long obsession with her, an obsession that commenced in the early to mid-1990s. A lot of biographical material is here, of course, because I can’t assume that readers will know much about her (though some surely will), and one of a writer’s most essential jobs is to dispel, not summon, confusion. (I’m sure I’ve done a lot of both here. Oh well.)

As you will read, the fire of my obsession was hottest in the mid-1990s and on into the early 2000s. It cooled a bit after I published a YA biography of Mary in 2012 (Kindle Direct). Then, a few years later, I decided to write this memoir, which began as a series of blog posts (dawnreader.blogspot.com), then blossomed (?) into thrice-weekly installments—a process that greatly increased my admiration for those Victorians (Dickens, Trollope, Collins, et al.) who serialized entire novels (in some cases—more than one at a time!). Readers can Google those posts to see the many pictures I included. The serialization consumed more than three years of my life—from April 28, 2014–August 23, 2017.

By the time I finished, I had a draft so rough that Rough objected and said it would not allow its name to be associated with such a work. (Something about damaging its reputation.) And so began a long, slow, sometimes tedious revision. One of the biggest problems? Repetition. Because the serialization had continued for so long, I had to keep reminding readers who characters were, reminding them about what the key events had been. I’ve tried to remove all/most of this, but I’ve no doubt that some redundancy remains here and there.

Complicating my task? So much scholarly work had appeared about Mary and her circle since I had (temporarily) abandoned them. Not to mention the novels, the movies, and other cultural contributions. Complicating it more? This year—2018—is the two-hundredth anniversary of the original publication of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus. And so all sorts of other tributes and publications have appeared.

In recent months, I’ve read Kathryn Harkup’s Making the Monster: The Science Behind Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein (2018), Ahmed Saadawi’s novel Frankenstein in Baghdad (2018), and an older novel (recommended by a friend), Peter Lovesey’s The Vault (1999), a mystery/thriller which involves the city of Bath, where Mary wrote much of the novel, the novel that plays a key role in the mystery.  And there’s a wonderful book—chockablock with pictures and illustrations—Christopher Frayling’s Frankenstein: The First Two Hundred Years (2017).

Oh, and then SP Books published this year a replica of the Frankenstein manuscript, a publication I had to have (of course). It cost a … bit. But it is wonderful, looking through those pages, seeing the notes of Mary, the notes and suggestions of her husband, Percy Bysshe Shelley.

And, of course, I realized all of this was impossible. Purely impossible. There was no way I could keep up with it. (As I type these words—May 31, 2018—there is about to be published a new biography of Mary, In Search of Mary Shelley: The Girl Who Wrote Frankenstein, by Fiona Samson. Which I’ve ordered. And will read. But I’m not sure how much of it—if any—will find its way into this text.)

And so … here we go.

I enjoyed this journey about as much as anything I’ve ever done in my life. And I hope you will find the trip pleasant, as well, despite the many detours I take down by-ways that sometimes lead to stunning vistas, sometimes to culs-de-sac, sometimes to dead ends.

And as I type this, I realize: I have assembled this publication by borrowing pieces of history, of memoir, of biography, of … whatever. Attaching them. And now I wonder: Can I bring this creature to life? And if I do, will it turn out to be a monster?

A final word (before many more words ensue): I have been as careful as I can be, proofreading, but I know in such a complicated work that typos and other goofs will inevitably escape even a most assiduous eye. Forgive me. I will fix all that I subsequently learn about—and trust that you, dear reader, will be … understanding.