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The Monsters We Deserve
'Do monsters always stay in the book where they were born? Are they content to live out their lives on paper, and never step foot into the real world?'
The Villa Diodati, on the shore of Lake Geneva, 1816: the Year without Summer. As Byron, Polidori, and Mr and Mrs Shelley shelter from the unexpected weather, old ghost stories are read and new ghost stories imagined. Born by the twin brain of the Shelleys is Frankenstein, one of the most influential tales of horror of all time.
In a remote mountain house, high in the French Alps, an author broods on Shelley's creation. Reality and perception merge, fuelled by poisoned thoughts. Men make monsters; but who really creates who? A book about reason, the imagination, and the creative act of reading and writing. Marcus Sedgwick's ghostly, menacing novel celebrates the legacy of Shelley's Frankenstein.
272 pages, Paperback
First published September 6, 2018
52 people are currently reading
2133 people want to read
About the author
Marcus Sedgwick
107 books1,582 followersMarcus Sedgwickwas a British writer and illustrator. He authored several young adult and children's books and picture books, a work of nonfiction and several novels for adults, and illustrated a collection of myths and a book of folk tales for adults.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 297 reviews
September 24, 2018
Creative, witty, and philosophical, The Monsters We Deserve by Marcus Sedgwick is a rather unusual book, but, nevertheless, it’s rather brilliant.
This is a novel, and it isn’t a novel. This is a literary essay, and it isn’t a literary essay. It’s a book about how books are written (and how monsters are born.) It sounds like a odd combination doesn’t it? It works though, strangely enough.
It’s about a horror writer who is undertaking some soul searching. He’s fed up of writing stories that simply scare people and has reached the conclusion that such dark writing gives nothing decent to society. He now wants to write something good and beneficial for his readers. He wants to talk about the natural world and monsters and people and everything in between.
So he does.
The book questions the act of writing, itself a form of creation. It questions the rigid nature of publishing and how writers are forced to shape their project according to reader expectation instead of letting the writing be what its wants to be. It’s a book that celebrates the natural world with its sharp descriptions and emphasis on the beauty of life. My point is, this book is lots of things at once. It’s fragmented and experimental, though it is also very perceptive and extraordinarily clever.
The element that will appeal to most readers is the way the book talks to a dead writer and her characters. Mary Shelley haunts the steps of the writer. She visits him as does her pompous (not my words) protagonist Victor. They discuss monsters and how our books come to shape us, establishing and defining us as a certain type of person: a writer of horror, for example. Through the interaction this slates Frankenstein heavily; yet, for all that, it made me laugh. All the criticism are fair (albeit a little petty and playful) and in a way, they add to the original work because they firmly establish how the book was a product of its time. Any narrative weakness only highlights how naïve and young the novel was during the early nineteenth century. Frankenstein is far from perfection, though it will always remain a literary marvel because of the themes it tackles head on. And, at the route of things, I think this annoyed writer knows this.
I don’t know how much of this embodies the real author’s opinions and experiences and how much of it is a product of the fictional author’s (ignoring the fantastical events, of course.) We’re not meant to know. It seeks to blur the lines between fiction and reality, creator and creation, writer and monster. Either way, it’s not overly important to the ideas this book discusses in such clear terms.
I stand by what I have already stated, The Monsters We Deserve is an unusual book. And I think many readers won’t quite connect with it. But for those that do, they will become beguiled by the playful nature of the writing that questions why we write (like I myself was.)
Postscript- I’m in love with the book design – it’s so simple and so precise, full of illustrations that accentuate what’s being said. More book covers should be this exact rather than attempting to be too flashy and intricate: it’s crisp, clean and effective.
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This is a novel, and it isn’t a novel. This is a literary essay, and it isn’t a literary essay. It’s a book about how books are written (and how monsters are born.) It sounds like a odd combination doesn’t it? It works though, strangely enough.
It’s about a horror writer who is undertaking some soul searching. He’s fed up of writing stories that simply scare people and has reached the conclusion that such dark writing gives nothing decent to society. He now wants to write something good and beneficial for his readers. He wants to talk about the natural world and monsters and people and everything in between.
So he does.
The book questions the act of writing, itself a form of creation. It questions the rigid nature of publishing and how writers are forced to shape their project according to reader expectation instead of letting the writing be what its wants to be. It’s a book that celebrates the natural world with its sharp descriptions and emphasis on the beauty of life. My point is, this book is lots of things at once. It’s fragmented and experimental, though it is also very perceptive and extraordinarily clever.
The element that will appeal to most readers is the way the book talks to a dead writer and her characters. Mary Shelley haunts the steps of the writer. She visits him as does her pompous (not my words) protagonist Victor. They discuss monsters and how our books come to shape us, establishing and defining us as a certain type of person: a writer of horror, for example. Through the interaction this slates Frankenstein heavily; yet, for all that, it made me laugh. All the criticism are fair (albeit a little petty and playful) and in a way, they add to the original work because they firmly establish how the book was a product of its time. Any narrative weakness only highlights how naïve and young the novel was during the early nineteenth century. Frankenstein is far from perfection, though it will always remain a literary marvel because of the themes it tackles head on. And, at the route of things, I think this annoyed writer knows this.
I don’t know how much of this embodies the real author’s opinions and experiences and how much of it is a product of the fictional author’s (ignoring the fantastical events, of course.) We’re not meant to know. It seeks to blur the lines between fiction and reality, creator and creation, writer and monster. Either way, it’s not overly important to the ideas this book discusses in such clear terms.
I stand by what I have already stated, The Monsters We Deserve is an unusual book. And I think many readers won’t quite connect with it. But for those that do, they will become beguiled by the playful nature of the writing that questions why we write (like I myself was.)
Postscript- I’m in love with the book design – it’s so simple and so precise, full of illustrations that accentuate what’s being said. More book covers should be this exact rather than attempting to be too flashy and intricate: it’s crisp, clean and effective.
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December 25, 2018
4.5/5. An author (who I'm 95% sure is Marcus Sedgwick himself) retreats to a secluded house in the Alps to write and reflect. He feels haunted by a book he dislikes, Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, and the legacy it has left behind, plus, he feels increasingly disturbed by his growing suspicion that the house is not what it seems. What ensues is a (sort of) ghost story mixed with metafictional musings on authorship, authority and authorial responsibility. I don't think it's a book that everyone would enjoy, but I thought it was pretty brilliant. It made for a really interesting and immersive reading experience and it's definitely a book I can see myself rereading in the future.
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August 30, 2018My thanks to NetGalley and Head of Zeus for a review copy of this one.
This is a very strange little book. I put in a request for it because essentially of the themes that the description said it dealt with, of Mary Shelley, and Frankenstein; of the thought processes that go into imagination, into creation, into reading and writing. And it certainly is about that, but just not in a way I’d expected or imagined. Our author or at least an author (still not sure whether this is meant to be the author himself or a creation through which he is speaking) is up in the mountains, close to the location of the Villa Diodati, where Mary Shelley at age nineteen first came up with her most famous novel Frankenstein, pondering over the book, which he claims he hates for various reasons, its elitism and “racism” among them. But alongside he also engages with various other questions that trouble him, the isolated environment in which he is which is beginning to get to him, the writer’s block that he seems to be suffering, his own work, which has been writing horror stories, which come back to haunt him. We see and experience what the author does, in a sense like a stream of consciousness style. Occasionally we hear another voice, the voice of another person I mean (you will see who I mean when you read the book) but that too is as the author has seen and heard it.
This was a very different book from anything I’ve read before, and honestly even after finishing, this is a book hard to classify (it isn’t a story yet it is, it isn’t a literary essay, yet it is, and more such confusions) or even rate for me, in fact I’m not entirely sure what to make of it, even though I am trying to put down my thoughts. Both the Frankenstein and Mary Shelley theme, and that of authors and their creations (especially in the “horror” category) are explored alongside, the latter in some ways springing from the former and yet separate. The author claims to dislike the book, to hate it, offers some literary criticism, but then also takes us through what is admirable about it. The story (which I’m sure everyone knows) of how and where Frankenstein was created is mentioned, but while the blurb led me to expect that there would be a lot more focus on that aspect, this wasn’t really so. His criticisms of the book were points that hadn’t really occurred to me—so they were interesting to explore, and its message as our author identifies it was something that did stand out on my reading too so that I agreed with. Again the exploration of author and creation, how much of a creation is the author’s and how much it takes on a life of its own, and even touches the author, I found interesting to think about. The author/narrator’s own work coming back to haunt him in different ways was perhaps the fictional part of the story, but whether the atmosphere of the place, the isolation is a mere trigger to all of the rest that’s happening or represents something more is one point that I haven’t been able to figure out. The link between the Mary Shelley–Frankenstein issue, and the author–creation question made sense, as also did the question of why our author’s creations were perhaps haunting him (that there was more reason than one), but the ending was something I couldn’t entirely make sense of. I see some points that the book is trying to make (I think) but not I think entirely what it tries to say at the end—the ‘conclusion’ as it were.
The artwork between the sections was interesting—some of this made sense, the other parts didn’t (was it meant not to? Was it meant to represent the confusion?)—in the ARC version, part of it wasn’t very clear either.
But anyway, how do I rate it? I guess mid-way-3 stars. I can’t say I loved the book, not did I completely dislike it. It made me think of some things, some things made sense, and yet not all of it.
This is a very strange little book. I put in a request for it because essentially of the themes that the description said it dealt with, of Mary Shelley, and Frankenstein; of the thought processes that go into imagination, into creation, into reading and writing. And it certainly is about that, but just not in a way I’d expected or imagined. Our author or at least an author (still not sure whether this is meant to be the author himself or a creation through which he is speaking) is up in the mountains, close to the location of the Villa Diodati, where Mary Shelley at age nineteen first came up with her most famous novel Frankenstein, pondering over the book, which he claims he hates for various reasons, its elitism and “racism” among them. But alongside he also engages with various other questions that trouble him, the isolated environment in which he is which is beginning to get to him, the writer’s block that he seems to be suffering, his own work, which has been writing horror stories, which come back to haunt him. We see and experience what the author does, in a sense like a stream of consciousness style. Occasionally we hear another voice, the voice of another person I mean (you will see who I mean when you read the book) but that too is as the author has seen and heard it.
This was a very different book from anything I’ve read before, and honestly even after finishing, this is a book hard to classify (it isn’t a story yet it is, it isn’t a literary essay, yet it is, and more such confusions) or even rate for me, in fact I’m not entirely sure what to make of it, even though I am trying to put down my thoughts. Both the Frankenstein and Mary Shelley theme, and that of authors and their creations (especially in the “horror” category) are explored alongside, the latter in some ways springing from the former and yet separate. The author claims to dislike the book, to hate it, offers some literary criticism, but then also takes us through what is admirable about it. The story (which I’m sure everyone knows) of how and where Frankenstein was created is mentioned, but while the blurb led me to expect that there would be a lot more focus on that aspect, this wasn’t really so. His criticisms of the book were points that hadn’t really occurred to me—so they were interesting to explore, and its message as our author identifies it was something that did stand out on my reading too so that I agreed with. Again the exploration of author and creation, how much of a creation is the author’s and how much it takes on a life of its own, and even touches the author, I found interesting to think about. The author/narrator’s own work coming back to haunt him in different ways was perhaps the fictional part of the story, but whether the atmosphere of the place, the isolation is a mere trigger to all of the rest that’s happening or represents something more is one point that I haven’t been able to figure out. The link between the Mary Shelley–Frankenstein issue, and the author–creation question made sense, as also did the question of why our author’s creations were perhaps haunting him (that there was more reason than one), but the ending was something I couldn’t entirely make sense of. I see some points that the book is trying to make (I think) but not I think entirely what it tries to say at the end—the ‘conclusion’ as it were.
The artwork between the sections was interesting—some of this made sense, the other parts didn’t (was it meant not to? Was it meant to represent the confusion?)—in the ARC version, part of it wasn’t very clear either.
But anyway, how do I rate it? I guess mid-way-3 stars. I can’t say I loved the book, not did I completely dislike it. It made me think of some things, some things made sense, and yet not all of it.
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July 31, 2025
Almost everyone has an inborn need to create; in most people this is thwarted and forgotten, and the drive is pushed into other actives that are less threatening, less difficult, and less rewarding. In some people, the need to create is transmuted into the need to destroy.
I AM SHOOK.
About two pages into this book, I came across a quote that I wanted to leave in my review and put a post-it on the page; about five pages later, I put another post-it. This kept happening and now my book is full of bright orange post-it notes of wonderful quotes and I want to use them all. But alas, I'd probably end up quoting the whole bloody book.
But this is definitely one of my favourites:
Yet every writer worth a good-god damn knows this too, for it is graven into each of us: no one cares for beauty. Not in fiction. Not on its own, not pure, untroubled beauty; not in fiction. It’s what we crave in the real world, of course; beauty, and you know I mean that in its broadest sense: the sense of kindness and wisdom and peace and joy: all the things in the world that are beautiful, and all the things we crave in real life, but which are not sufficient to count, on their own, for anything in the world of stories.
There are so many fantastic questions and curiosities in this book. It's also eerie and Gothic and beautiful. It's got ATMOSPHERE. And the author's unending quarrel with himself over hating Frankenstein is in equal parts funny, interesting and thought-provoking.
I actually had no idea what this book was going to be about and I feel like that almost made it better. I didn't see any of the twists and was just along for the ride and totally loved it. There are so many gorgeous paragraphs and I read the whole thing in an afternoon. It full on distracted me from my Buffy rewatch, so you know it's gotta be good.
I 100% recommend this to everyone.
☆ Book Reviews | Bluesky | Twitter | Threads ☆
I AM SHOOK.
About two pages into this book, I came across a quote that I wanted to leave in my review and put a post-it on the page; about five pages later, I put another post-it. This kept happening and now my book is full of bright orange post-it notes of wonderful quotes and I want to use them all. But alas, I'd probably end up quoting the whole bloody book.
But this is definitely one of my favourites:
Yet every writer worth a good-god damn knows this too, for it is graven into each of us: no one cares for beauty. Not in fiction. Not on its own, not pure, untroubled beauty; not in fiction. It’s what we crave in the real world, of course; beauty, and you know I mean that in its broadest sense: the sense of kindness and wisdom and peace and joy: all the things in the world that are beautiful, and all the things we crave in real life, but which are not sufficient to count, on their own, for anything in the world of stories.
There are so many fantastic questions and curiosities in this book. It's also eerie and Gothic and beautiful. It's got ATMOSPHERE. And the author's unending quarrel with himself over hating Frankenstein is in equal parts funny, interesting and thought-provoking.
I actually had no idea what this book was going to be about and I feel like that almost made it better. I didn't see any of the twists and was just along for the ride and totally loved it. There are so many gorgeous paragraphs and I read the whole thing in an afternoon. It full on distracted me from my Buffy rewatch, so you know it's gotta be good.
I 100% recommend this to everyone.
☆ Book Reviews | Bluesky | Twitter | Threads ☆
November 23, 2018
The Monsters We Deserve is part literary essay, part novel, part something else entirely. It's about writing, about creating and the relationship between writer and characters (creator and creation). As such, its a very meta piece of literature.
It's also very ”stream of conciousness” in tone, which was where the majority of my disconnect began. Generally this style can be hit or miss for me, and this book wasn't much different.
I really struggled with this one, to the point where I'm not even sure if I want to rate it.
I didn't quite enjoy my time reading it, yet I feel like a large part of that was due to it going over my head. It's clear to me that there are not only many references towards other pieces of literature in here, but also some almost philosophical commentary on creating art aswell. Despite the fact that I can recognize it's there, I feel I'm not (yet) capable of grasping it all.
At it's core this was a case of "it's-not-you-it's-me". I could pretend to understand this fully, and say I loved it for it, but I want my reviews to remain honest above all else. The truth is: this probably went a little too over my head for me to enjoy it properly.
If you enjoy this topic and have read it, I'd love to hear your opinion on this one.
It's also very ”stream of conciousness” in tone, which was where the majority of my disconnect began. Generally this style can be hit or miss for me, and this book wasn't much different.
I really struggled with this one, to the point where I'm not even sure if I want to rate it.
I didn't quite enjoy my time reading it, yet I feel like a large part of that was due to it going over my head. It's clear to me that there are not only many references towards other pieces of literature in here, but also some almost philosophical commentary on creating art aswell. Despite the fact that I can recognize it's there, I feel I'm not (yet) capable of grasping it all.
At it's core this was a case of "it's-not-you-it's-me". I could pretend to understand this fully, and say I loved it for it, but I want my reviews to remain honest above all else. The truth is: this probably went a little too over my head for me to enjoy it properly.
If you enjoy this topic and have read it, I'd love to hear your opinion on this one.
September 17, 2018
'The Monsters We Deserve' is a book that pays homage to Mary Shelley's gothic masterpiece 'Frankenstein' which is celebrating its 200th anniversary this year. It's certainly a well judged move by the author/publisher to release this just as we've moved into Autumn in the UK and heading towards Halloween. Sedgwick's writing is beautiful and conjures up a glorious atmosphere that lasts the duration of the novel. His lyrical, brutal prose is alluring, and I couldn't stop thinking about the story whenever I had to place it down to attend to something important.
I know you shouldn't commit the cardinal sin of judging a book by its cover, but that is what initially drew me to this book. The use of monochrome really works and attracts the eye. The cover is a little creepy, and I had wondered whether this theme would continue throughout the novel. I was pleasantly surprised that the creep factor was turned up to the maximum at a few select points. At times the often seductive, poetic language strays into the land of the pretentious which, although is sad, didn't affect my overall appreciation. This is well worth investing your time in, especially if you're a fan of Mary Shelley's work or of the horror/young adult genres.
Many thanks to Zephyr for an ARC. I was not required to post a review, and all thoughts and opinions expressed are my own.
I know you shouldn't commit the cardinal sin of judging a book by its cover, but that is what initially drew me to this book. The use of monochrome really works and attracts the eye. The cover is a little creepy, and I had wondered whether this theme would continue throughout the novel. I was pleasantly surprised that the creep factor was turned up to the maximum at a few select points. At times the often seductive, poetic language strays into the land of the pretentious which, although is sad, didn't affect my overall appreciation. This is well worth investing your time in, especially if you're a fan of Mary Shelley's work or of the horror/young adult genres.
Many thanks to Zephyr for an ARC. I was not required to post a review, and all thoughts and opinions expressed are my own.
January 18, 2025
هیولاهایی که لایقشان هستیم
مارکوس سجویک
فرزین سوری
نشر پیدایش
نظر من در مورد کتاب:
داستا�� در مورد نویسندهایه که برای نوشتن کار جدیدش به یه کلبه دور افتاده و ساکت تو ارتفاعات آلپ رفته و ما یه جورایی داریم روزنگارش رو میخونیم.
نویسنده تو یه شب عجیب و تو یه حال مالیخولیایی، با نویسندهی کتابی ملاقات میکنه که ازش متنفره؛ مری شلی، نویسندهی فرانکنشتاین. و اینجوری میشه که وسط یه مثلث شوم، گیر میوفته. مثلثی که یک راسش، هیولایی چهل تکه، دوخته شده از اعضای بدن مردههاست، یک راسش پزشکیه که هیولا رو خلق کرد و یک راس هم، نویسنده ایه که به کل این تراژدی عظیم، جان بخشید؛ یعنی مری!
راستش این از اون کتابهاست که یا قراره خیلی دوسش داشته باشین، یا قراره ازش متنفر بشین! حد وسط نداره.
سجویک "جریان سیال ذهن" رو به عنوان تکنیک روایی داستانش انتخاب کرده و اینجوریه که شما از همون صفحه اول داستان، اینطور به نظر میاد که دارید دست نوشتههای روانپریشانهی آدمی رو میخونید که بیش از حد تنها مونده! و همین باعث شده تا حدود ۵۰ صفحه اول داستان اینجوری باشید که "خب الان که چی؟؟" ولی بعد یه ذره داستان شیفت پیدا میکنه و میره جلو بالاخره.
هر جا که فلسفه با ژانر وحشت ترکیب میشه، من احضار میشم که لذت ببرم و این کتاب هم دقیقا بر پایه ی همین ترکیب بنا شده اما این که تا چه حد میتونه باب طبع خیلیا، و به خصوص نوجوونها، باشه، یه مقولهی جداست.
اولا این که، اگه فرانکنشتاین رو نخوندین اصلا نرید سراغش. برای این که از خوندنش لذت ببرید حتما لازمه که فرانکنشتاین رو خونده باشید چون داستان پیوند خیلی خیلی محکمی داره باهاش.
دوما این که، اگه با جریان سیال ذهن حال نمیکنید، خوندنش میتونه براتون اعصاب خورد کن باشه! چون هیچ خط روایی مشخصی وجود نداره توی داستان و حتی یه جاهایی راوی عملا غیر قابل اعتماد میشه چون هوشیار نیست و ما هم فقط داستان رو از زاویه دید اون دنبال میکنیم پس دقیقا به اندازه ی اون گیجیم و نمیدونیم که چه اتفاقی داره میوفته.
سوما این که، اون ترکیب فلسفه با وحشت رو اتفاقا خیلی خوب درآورده. نمیدونم موقع خوندن فرانکنشتاین چه برداشتی از داستانش داشتین ولی این کتاب قطعا زاویه دید متفاوتی بهتون میده. همون چیزی که مری توی داستان از نویسنده میخواد =)
چهارما این که، اگه خودتون هم به نویسندگی علاقه دارید، احتمالااااا خوندنش براتون جالب باشه. درواقع بیس اصلی فلسفهی داستان بر پایهی همین میچرخه که نویسندهی داستان خیلی دست و پنجه نرم میکنه با فرایند "خلق" و آفرینش. و خوندنشون جذابه =) درواقع جزو اصلیترین جذابیتهای کتابه. بخشی از متن کتاب:
پنجما، اصلا نمیدونم چرا بهش میگن یانگ ادالت!!! یانگ چه ادالتی؟؟ چه عنصری توی این کتاب باعث شده فکر کنن میتونن توی این دسته قرارش بدن؟ :/ نمیدونم واقعا
ششما این که، اگه به کتاب هایی که به جای پلات بیشتر روی کاراکتر تمرکز دارن علاقه ندارید، اصلا انتخاب خوبی براتون نیست چون عملا پلات داستان چندان چیز خاصی نداره. کاراکترها اهمیت دارن. پس این رو هم لازمه که در نظر داشته باشین
آیا پیشنهادش میکنم؟ بله شاید. ولی نه به هر کسی
امتیاز من: 3.5/5
مارکوس سجویک
فرزین سوری
نشر پیدایش
نظر من در مورد کتاب:
داستا�� در مورد نویسندهایه که برای نوشتن کار جدیدش به یه کلبه دور افتاده و ساکت تو ارتفاعات آلپ رفته و ما یه جورایی داریم روزنگارش رو میخونیم.
نویسنده تو یه شب عجیب و تو یه حال مالیخولیایی، با نویسندهی کتابی ملاقات میکنه که ازش متنفره؛ مری شلی، نویسندهی فرانکنشتاین. و اینجوری میشه که وسط یه مثلث شوم، گیر میوفته. مثلثی که یک راسش، هیولایی چهل تکه، دوخته شده از اعضای بدن مردههاست، یک راسش پزشکیه که هیولا رو خلق کرد و یک راس هم، نویسنده ایه که به کل این تراژدی عظیم، جان بخشید؛ یعنی مری!
راستش این از اون کتابهاست که یا قراره خیلی دوسش داشته باشین، یا قراره ازش متنفر بشین! حد وسط نداره.
سجویک "جریان سیال ذهن" رو به عنوان تکنیک روایی داستانش انتخاب کرده و اینجوریه که شما از همون صفحه اول داستان، اینطور به نظر میاد که دارید دست نوشتههای روانپریشانهی آدمی رو میخونید که بیش از حد تنها مونده! و همین باعث شده تا حدود ۵۰ صفحه اول داستان اینجوری باشید که "خب الان که چی؟؟" ولی بعد یه ذره داستان شیفت پیدا میکنه و میره جلو بالاخره.
هر جا که فلسفه با ژانر وحشت ترکیب میشه، من احضار میشم که لذت ببرم و این کتاب هم دقیقا بر پایه ی همین ترکیب بنا شده اما این که تا چه حد میتونه باب طبع خیلیا، و به خصوص نوجوونها، باشه، یه مقولهی جداست.
اولا این که، اگه فرانکنشتاین رو نخوندین اصلا نرید سراغش. برای این که از خوندنش لذت ببرید حتما لازمه که فرانکنشتاین رو خونده باشید چون داستان پیوند خیلی خیلی محکمی داره باهاش.
دوما این که، اگه با جریان سیال ذهن حال نمیکنید، خوندنش میتونه براتون اعصاب خورد کن باشه! چون هیچ خط روایی مشخصی وجود نداره توی داستان و حتی یه جاهایی راوی عملا غیر قابل اعتماد میشه چون هوشیار نیست و ما هم فقط داستان رو از زاویه دید اون دنبال میکنیم پس دقیقا به اندازه ی اون گیجیم و نمیدونیم که چه اتفاقی داره میوفته.
سوما این که، اون ترکیب فلسفه با وحشت رو اتفاقا خیلی خوب درآورده. نمیدونم موقع خوندن فرانکنشتاین چه برداشتی از داستانش داشتین ولی این کتاب قطعا زاویه دید متفاوتی بهتون میده. همون چیزی که مری توی داستان از نویسنده میخواد =)
چهارما این که، اگه خودتون هم به نویسندگی علاقه دارید، احتمالااااا خوندنش براتون جالب باشه. درواقع بیس اصلی فلسفهی داستان بر پایهی همین میچرخه که نویسندهی داستان خیلی دست و پنجه نرم میکنه با فرایند "خلق" و آفرینش. و خوندنشون جذابه =) درواقع جزو اصلیترین جذابیتهای کتابه. بخشی از متن کتاب:
خلق عملی وحشت آور است که به شجاعت یا در واقع به میزانی از کودکبالغی و سادهلوحی نیاز دارد. این در حالیست که نابودی آسان است و نسبت به خلق عمل بسخطریست.
برای درک بهتر جهان است که خلق میکنیم. برای فهمیدن اینکه داریم روی این صخره دوار در فضا دقیقا چه غلطی میکنیم. که چشممان را به سمت این گیجی و گمراهی مطلق باز کنیم.
گیجی. گمراهی. همهاش همین است.
وحشت همین است. از روزی که به دنیا میآییم نمی.دانیم چه خبر است و تنها دو جواب داریم.
خلق و نابودی
پنجما، اصلا نمیدونم چرا بهش میگن یانگ ادالت!!! یانگ چه ادالتی؟؟ چه عنصری توی این کتاب باعث شده فکر کنن میتونن توی این دسته قرارش بدن؟ :/ نمیدونم واقعا
ششما این که، اگه به کتاب هایی که به جای پلات بیشتر روی کاراکتر تمرکز دارن علاقه ندارید، اصلا انتخاب خوبی براتون نیست چون عملا پلات داستان چندان چیز خاصی نداره. کاراکترها اهمیت دارن. پس این رو هم لازمه که در نظر داشته باشین
آیا پیشنهادش میکنم؟ بله شاید. ولی نه به هر کسی
امتیاز من: 3.5/5
June 3, 2019
Congratulations, you have managed an incredible feat. You have managed to write the worst book I have ever read. I write this review to warn others who consider reading this: don’t waste your time. Never in my life before has a book made me so infuriated.
It’s an impressive talent, to be able to make me dislike a book from the first page. Even from the beginning, it is evident how desperately the author is trying to seem deep, to the point of sounding almost incoherent. The things discussed throughout the entirety of the novel reminded me strongly of a 13 year old emo boy posting on tumblr. Imagine the stuff that can be found on r/im14andthisisdeep. The author seems to be using every single ‘deep’ thought they can think of. To give you an idea of the intensity and desperation of these ‘deep’ quotes that litter the pages:
‘Something else: it has always struck me as troubling that the words in books are printed in black and white, when life is anything but.’
This ridiculous quote is actually an idea that I have used in many fake presentations to friends, where I try my hardest to make stupid statements and pretend there is symbolism in the most random things. When I say something similar to this, I usually get a pretty good laugh. Now, I am usually fine with a few fake woke paragraphs in books, I can just ignore them and move on, but the issue is that these outrageously stupid statements make up around 80% of the book.
Another thing that greatly irritates me was the authors extremely song sense of self-righteousness. Every where you looked, discussion of what a great writer the author is, and how incredibly intelligent he is were peppered in. You could barely go a page without being reminded how amazing the author is. Self confidence is obviously a good thing, but the was to a point where he seemed arrogant and cocky. I couldn’t help thinking how obnoxious he sounded, constantly behaving and speaking as if he was above everyone else. The way the fake woke thought were written also gave of the sense that the author is so incredibly intelligent and the reader should be in awe of how profound and philosophical the text was. It was beyond annoying.
The ridiculous amount of criticism towards Mary Shelley’s ‘Frankenstein’ was another thing that I found frustrating. I am unsure whether the author genuinely feels this way about the novel, or this opinion is only made for the book, but it gave off the impression that his entire novel was made solely to express his immense hatred for the classic. His actual criticisms of the book were weak, inaccurate, and frankly, stupid. The addition of Mary Shelley herself agreeing with his arguments seemed also arrogant. I have to give a disclaimer: I have not actually read ‘Frankenstein’, so for all I know, all his criticisms could be correct. However, if this is the case, the examples chosen to demonstrate his side of the argument were very poorly chosen.
The final major flaw I found was the intense hypocrisy that filled the novel. For a book so intent on pointing out the supposed flaws of another book, not much thought went into fixing its own. A large section is dedicated to explaining why the plot is a mess in ‘Frankenstein’, yet ‘The Monsters We Deserve’ has one of the worst plot structures I’ve seen in a while, displaying no clear understanding of how to ease into a plot and many other obvious plot structure flaws. The author claims to know well how to draw the line when writing, instead of waffling on and writing more than is necessary like other authors may do, yet has one of the most amount of unnecessary paragraphs i’ve ever read, with very little of what is written actually being needed or even contributing to the plot and overall quality of the novel. The author is outraged at the supposed ‘snobbishness’ of Shelley’s work, yet never before have I seen an author so in love with themself, so enraptured by their own intellect and how much better they are than everyone else.
Perhaps I am wrong. Perhaps the overall obnoxiousness was a purposeful decision, along with the daft statements and unfair judgement. However, even if this is the case, that this was an incredibly frustrating read, one that ruined my afternoon and left me angry hours later. I always promise myself that I will finish every book I begin to read, but this novel made it ridiculously hard to stick to that. I must say, however, that there is one thing in this novel that was done right. I found it very easy to relate to the feelings described, of being so infuriated by a book that you just want to throw it across the room. And you’ll never guess which book was inducing this rage.
It’s an impressive talent, to be able to make me dislike a book from the first page. Even from the beginning, it is evident how desperately the author is trying to seem deep, to the point of sounding almost incoherent. The things discussed throughout the entirety of the novel reminded me strongly of a 13 year old emo boy posting on tumblr. Imagine the stuff that can be found on r/im14andthisisdeep. The author seems to be using every single ‘deep’ thought they can think of. To give you an idea of the intensity and desperation of these ‘deep’ quotes that litter the pages:
‘Something else: it has always struck me as troubling that the words in books are printed in black and white, when life is anything but.’
This ridiculous quote is actually an idea that I have used in many fake presentations to friends, where I try my hardest to make stupid statements and pretend there is symbolism in the most random things. When I say something similar to this, I usually get a pretty good laugh. Now, I am usually fine with a few fake woke paragraphs in books, I can just ignore them and move on, but the issue is that these outrageously stupid statements make up around 80% of the book.
Another thing that greatly irritates me was the authors extremely song sense of self-righteousness. Every where you looked, discussion of what a great writer the author is, and how incredibly intelligent he is were peppered in. You could barely go a page without being reminded how amazing the author is. Self confidence is obviously a good thing, but the was to a point where he seemed arrogant and cocky. I couldn’t help thinking how obnoxious he sounded, constantly behaving and speaking as if he was above everyone else. The way the fake woke thought were written also gave of the sense that the author is so incredibly intelligent and the reader should be in awe of how profound and philosophical the text was. It was beyond annoying.
The ridiculous amount of criticism towards Mary Shelley’s ‘Frankenstein’ was another thing that I found frustrating. I am unsure whether the author genuinely feels this way about the novel, or this opinion is only made for the book, but it gave off the impression that his entire novel was made solely to express his immense hatred for the classic. His actual criticisms of the book were weak, inaccurate, and frankly, stupid. The addition of Mary Shelley herself agreeing with his arguments seemed also arrogant. I have to give a disclaimer: I have not actually read ‘Frankenstein’, so for all I know, all his criticisms could be correct. However, if this is the case, the examples chosen to demonstrate his side of the argument were very poorly chosen.
The final major flaw I found was the intense hypocrisy that filled the novel. For a book so intent on pointing out the supposed flaws of another book, not much thought went into fixing its own. A large section is dedicated to explaining why the plot is a mess in ‘Frankenstein’, yet ‘The Monsters We Deserve’ has one of the worst plot structures I’ve seen in a while, displaying no clear understanding of how to ease into a plot and many other obvious plot structure flaws. The author claims to know well how to draw the line when writing, instead of waffling on and writing more than is necessary like other authors may do, yet has one of the most amount of unnecessary paragraphs i’ve ever read, with very little of what is written actually being needed or even contributing to the plot and overall quality of the novel. The author is outraged at the supposed ‘snobbishness’ of Shelley’s work, yet never before have I seen an author so in love with themself, so enraptured by their own intellect and how much better they are than everyone else.
Perhaps I am wrong. Perhaps the overall obnoxiousness was a purposeful decision, along with the daft statements and unfair judgement. However, even if this is the case, that this was an incredibly frustrating read, one that ruined my afternoon and left me angry hours later. I always promise myself that I will finish every book I begin to read, but this novel made it ridiculously hard to stick to that. I must say, however, that there is one thing in this novel that was done right. I found it very easy to relate to the feelings described, of being so infuriated by a book that you just want to throw it across the room. And you’ll never guess which book was inducing this rage.
May 2, 2019
I received a free ebook version of this one from Netgalley. Thankyou to both Head of Zeus and Netgalley for allowing me to read this! My review is still honest.
I don’t know how to review this. The Monsters We Deserve is alike Sedgwick’s other works in that there is a deep, philosophical, subtle message beneath the beautiful writing-but I’m not sure I fully got it.
The Monsters We Deserve follows an unnamed author who is spending time high in the mountains attempting to write a novel. While there, he ponders the meaning of writing and creation through the medium of discussing the book Frankenstein. It quickly becomes a creepy, mysterious, fantastical little story in which all is never as it seems.
Sedgwick’s style and sense of setting is mesmerising and the story itself was interesting. I enjoyed the aspects of Frankenstein and the individuals who crop up in this. I liked the discussion of the writing process and how authors think of their own works. It is a whimsical, eerie little tale with so many deeper meanings that I’m sure will appeal to a specific type of reader. It was disturbing at times as our singular character seemed to spiral into madness and I was never sure if what he was seeing was a product of his own mind. It was unnerving to know so little about them-no gender, family status, anything about their life outside of the mountain was revealed and it really created a spooky vibe.
I did like the talk of being responsible for your creations, and yet being unable to be. Once your story is out in the world, people make it their own, they change it and adapt it so that it no longer becomes what you desired it to be. And yet, you still have to take ownership of your now warped creation. There really are some beautiful ideas and concepts that make you think.
The thing is, I always enjoy Sedgwick’s books in the way that I enjoy the beauty of them, I appreciate the plot and what he’s achieved, but I never quite find out what the ingredients are. I’m sure this has very intricate symbolism because I recognise the themes-but I just didn’t get what they were meant to symbolise. I spent a lot of this book feeling like I wasn’t in on the conversation. That’s not to say it wasn’t good as I do appreciate a lot about Sedgwick’s writing-but a lot of this one went over my head.
I don’t know how to review this. The Monsters We Deserve is alike Sedgwick’s other works in that there is a deep, philosophical, subtle message beneath the beautiful writing-but I’m not sure I fully got it.
The Monsters We Deserve follows an unnamed author who is spending time high in the mountains attempting to write a novel. While there, he ponders the meaning of writing and creation through the medium of discussing the book Frankenstein. It quickly becomes a creepy, mysterious, fantastical little story in which all is never as it seems.
Sedgwick’s style and sense of setting is mesmerising and the story itself was interesting. I enjoyed the aspects of Frankenstein and the individuals who crop up in this. I liked the discussion of the writing process and how authors think of their own works. It is a whimsical, eerie little tale with so many deeper meanings that I’m sure will appeal to a specific type of reader. It was disturbing at times as our singular character seemed to spiral into madness and I was never sure if what he was seeing was a product of his own mind. It was unnerving to know so little about them-no gender, family status, anything about their life outside of the mountain was revealed and it really created a spooky vibe.
I did like the talk of being responsible for your creations, and yet being unable to be. Once your story is out in the world, people make it their own, they change it and adapt it so that it no longer becomes what you desired it to be. And yet, you still have to take ownership of your now warped creation. There really are some beautiful ideas and concepts that make you think.
The thing is, I always enjoy Sedgwick’s books in the way that I enjoy the beauty of them, I appreciate the plot and what he’s achieved, but I never quite find out what the ingredients are. I’m sure this has very intricate symbolism because I recognise the themes-but I just didn’t get what they were meant to symbolise. I spent a lot of this book feeling like I wasn’t in on the conversation. That’s not to say it wasn’t good as I do appreciate a lot about Sedgwick’s writing-but a lot of this one went over my head.
September 15, 2018
Taut, tense, and immersive. And unique. Written in a sort of easily accessible stream of consciousness, the story delves into the act of creation and relationship between the author and his work.
The narrator broods on the role of monsters and horror in our culture while dissecting Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. He hates the book, for he sees it as badly written and plagued with unwelcome biases. And yet, what starts to immerse throughout the narrative may change his point of view significantly.
It's not regular fiction with a plot to follow and characters to fall in love with. It's strange, different and unique insight into the act of creation. It's short, beautifully written and filled with quotable passages, like this one:
I highly recommend giving this book a go. It tries (and succeeds) to look at what the book actually means, and how a writer controls, and is in turn controlled by, what he creates.
The narrator broods on the role of monsters and horror in our culture while dissecting Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. He hates the book, for he sees it as badly written and plagued with unwelcome biases. And yet, what starts to immerse throughout the narrative may change his point of view significantly.
It's not regular fiction with a plot to follow and characters to fall in love with. It's strange, different and unique insight into the act of creation. It's short, beautifully written and filled with quotable passages, like this one:
“The binary colour of words on a page give the sense of simplicity and clarity. But life doesn’t work like that. And neither should a good story. A good story ought to leave a little grey behind, I think.”
I highly recommend giving this book a go. It tries (and succeeds) to look at what the book actually means, and how a writer controls, and is in turn controlled by, what he creates.
September 13, 2018
Tendenz zu 4,5 Sternen. Das war … ein Erlebnis.
September 10, 2018
I borrowed a copy of this book from my boyfriend!
3.5 out of 5 stars!
I met Marcus in 2014 after the release of his work She Is Not Invisible. Wondering what his writing style was like almost four years after meeting him, I can honestly say that The Monsters We Deserve is a strange but very creepy book. Tying back into the classic Frankenstein by Mary Shelley, an author away on a break in the French Alps starts experiencing some paranormal activity to him during writing process for a new novel. The illustrations were stunning and really added to the scary vibe. I would say that go into it blind may add a bit more atmosphere to you enjoy reading experience (it certainly did for me). I did find that the change around halfway through to some of the Frankenstein references was quite abrupt. Quick, interesting but missing a little something extra.
3.5 out of 5 stars!
I met Marcus in 2014 after the release of his work She Is Not Invisible. Wondering what his writing style was like almost four years after meeting him, I can honestly say that The Monsters We Deserve is a strange but very creepy book. Tying back into the classic Frankenstein by Mary Shelley, an author away on a break in the French Alps starts experiencing some paranormal activity to him during writing process for a new novel. The illustrations were stunning and really added to the scary vibe. I would say that go into it blind may add a bit more atmosphere to you enjoy reading experience (it certainly did for me). I did find that the change around halfway through to some of the Frankenstein references was quite abrupt. Quick, interesting but missing a little something extra.
June 11, 2019
3,4 stars
Review to come. Ironically, I felt that although this book's main plot was dissecting and ripping apart what the author deems a "shoddy piece of work" - Frankenstein - I feel like his own book is the problem here.
This was such a fresh take on horror and I was so excited. I've really been let down by this one.
Review to come. Ironically, I felt that although this book's main plot was dissecting and ripping apart what the author deems a "shoddy piece of work" - Frankenstein - I feel like his own book is the problem here.
This was such a fresh take on horror and I was so excited. I've really been let down by this one.
October 13, 2019
sadly not what i expected.
October 20, 2018
Part novel and part literary essay, this is a fascinating and incredibly meta book. It explores the relationship between art and artist; the blurred lines between the two, and how much one is responsible for creating the other. It also looks at the relationship between writer and reader; suggesting that a story is unfinished until it is read; that since we all impart our own meaning, stories belong to each individual reader as much as they do the writer. These thought-provoking, eloquently put ideas will surely resonate with writers and passionate bookworms alike.
The book itself isn't exactly heavy on plot, but it centres around a horror novelist staying in a remote villa in the alps, brooding on the successes and failings of his own career, and his strange obsessive hated for Frankenstein. Visited by the ghosts of Mary Shelley and her most famous characters, he is faced with philosophical questions about art, creation, and the legacies we leave behind. There is an almost hypnotic and eerie atmosphere throughout, and I found it visceral and evocative.
Everything I described above, I adored. This is clearly an intelligent, experimental, and layered piece of work. It is also deeply flawed, however. Namely, in its misogynistic treatment of Shelley and her work. Now, given that a large part of the book is about how a character's words don't necessarily reflect the writer's feelings, I wouldn't be so bold as to suggest that Sedgwick himself is sexist, or that he hates Frankenstein - I doubt he'd write a whole book based around its themes, its characters, and its creator if he did. On the contrary, I imagine he admires the book greatly. However, a book written by a man, that sees a male character relentlessly criticize the work of a woman, before said woman's ghost asks him to 'fix' people's perception of her story, because she doesn't know how to, is inherently problematic. The implication, whether deliberate or not, is that Shelley wasn't good enough, and she needs a man's help to get the true message of her work out into the world. Sod off.
Whilst we're on that, he says that the famous interpretations of Shelley's text - that it's about the dangers of playing God and messing with science - are wrong; that no one realises it's actually about parenthood, and responsibility for our creations. Firstly, saying that one meaning is any more or less valid than the other contradicts the whole point the book is trying to make about how a story belongs to each reader. It feels a little arrogant for Sedgwick to imply that he is right, and everyone else is wrong. But also, the parenthood meaning isn't exactly obscure. He presents it as though it's a revalatory interpretation, but I've seen many a reader discuss this angle before, and it is indeed one of several major themes present in the text.
I have to say, I was worried about potential sexism before I even picked up the book, based on a clumsy line in the blurb that referred to Frankenstein as being 'born by the twin brain of the Shelleys'. This is a blatant attempt to discredit Mary Shelley's ownership of her work, and to share the credit with her husband. The concept famously came to her during conversations about science she had with him and Byron, and he is believed to have served as an editor, but it is her work. Mary herself edited, compiled, and promoted much of Percy's most famous poetry, but it is never described as being 'born by the twin brain of the Shelleys'. The only difference I see is that Mary was a woman.
For a book that purports to 'celebrate the legacy' of Frankenstein, if criticizes it an awful lot. Granted, our narrator comes to understand and appreciate the text somewhat by the end, and following revelations about his own career, it is arguable that his hatred for it is based largely in jealousy. However, the majority of people who pick this up will do so because they themselves are fans of Frankenstein. I can't imagine many of them will enjoy hearing our narrator insult it, especially since his petty grievances do little more than to prove that the book is somehow both of its time, and utterly timeless.
As this potentially incoherent review displays, I am incredibly conflicted in my feelings for this book, and rating it has proven tricky. As an examination of the fine line between fiction and reality, it excels. As a supposed celebration of Frankenstein and Mary Shelley, I was left feeling confused, and a little annoyed. What I can say without hesitation is that it is a stunning physical object; the design and production of the book some of the best I've seen. It's certainly worth a read for anyone interested in the power of the creative arts, and the legacy of fiction, but don't forget to pack a sizable pinch of salt.
The book itself isn't exactly heavy on plot, but it centres around a horror novelist staying in a remote villa in the alps, brooding on the successes and failings of his own career, and his strange obsessive hated for Frankenstein. Visited by the ghosts of Mary Shelley and her most famous characters, he is faced with philosophical questions about art, creation, and the legacies we leave behind. There is an almost hypnotic and eerie atmosphere throughout, and I found it visceral and evocative.
Everything I described above, I adored. This is clearly an intelligent, experimental, and layered piece of work. It is also deeply flawed, however. Namely, in its misogynistic treatment of Shelley and her work. Now, given that a large part of the book is about how a character's words don't necessarily reflect the writer's feelings, I wouldn't be so bold as to suggest that Sedgwick himself is sexist, or that he hates Frankenstein - I doubt he'd write a whole book based around its themes, its characters, and its creator if he did. On the contrary, I imagine he admires the book greatly. However, a book written by a man, that sees a male character relentlessly criticize the work of a woman, before said woman's ghost asks him to 'fix' people's perception of her story, because she doesn't know how to, is inherently problematic. The implication, whether deliberate or not, is that Shelley wasn't good enough, and she needs a man's help to get the true message of her work out into the world. Sod off.
Whilst we're on that, he says that the famous interpretations of Shelley's text - that it's about the dangers of playing God and messing with science - are wrong; that no one realises it's actually about parenthood, and responsibility for our creations. Firstly, saying that one meaning is any more or less valid than the other contradicts the whole point the book is trying to make about how a story belongs to each reader. It feels a little arrogant for Sedgwick to imply that he is right, and everyone else is wrong. But also, the parenthood meaning isn't exactly obscure. He presents it as though it's a revalatory interpretation, but I've seen many a reader discuss this angle before, and it is indeed one of several major themes present in the text.
I have to say, I was worried about potential sexism before I even picked up the book, based on a clumsy line in the blurb that referred to Frankenstein as being 'born by the twin brain of the Shelleys'. This is a blatant attempt to discredit Mary Shelley's ownership of her work, and to share the credit with her husband. The concept famously came to her during conversations about science she had with him and Byron, and he is believed to have served as an editor, but it is her work. Mary herself edited, compiled, and promoted much of Percy's most famous poetry, but it is never described as being 'born by the twin brain of the Shelleys'. The only difference I see is that Mary was a woman.
For a book that purports to 'celebrate the legacy' of Frankenstein, if criticizes it an awful lot. Granted, our narrator comes to understand and appreciate the text somewhat by the end, and following revelations about his own career, it is arguable that his hatred for it is based largely in jealousy. However, the majority of people who pick this up will do so because they themselves are fans of Frankenstein. I can't imagine many of them will enjoy hearing our narrator insult it, especially since his petty grievances do little more than to prove that the book is somehow both of its time, and utterly timeless.
As this potentially incoherent review displays, I am incredibly conflicted in my feelings for this book, and rating it has proven tricky. As an examination of the fine line between fiction and reality, it excels. As a supposed celebration of Frankenstein and Mary Shelley, I was left feeling confused, and a little annoyed. What I can say without hesitation is that it is a stunning physical object; the design and production of the book some of the best I've seen. It's certainly worth a read for anyone interested in the power of the creative arts, and the legacy of fiction, but don't forget to pack a sizable pinch of salt.
September 9, 2018
Let's start with a confession: I chose this book because of the cover, and can you blame me? The illustrations inside are beautifully done and alongside the formatting make this book an immersive experience.
So, going into this book I had literally no clue what to expect only that it was supernatural fiction, and I only know that because it was one of the books featured on the supernatural panel at the NYALitFest.
Whilst the genre on Goodreads categorises this as a horror, I wouldn't particularly agree, although it is a gripping ghost story.
I opened this book on a whim and quickly fell in love with the prose, the rhythm and flow of the words, and the poetry-esque format, so much so that I couldn't put it down. I devoured this book in just two hours.
I quickly fell under the writers spell, his voice swept me up immediately and plunged me into the story, the setting, the mystery. I had a hard time actually figuring out whether it was fiction or non-fiction, and I love that it made me doubt reality (or at least my reality) for a little while.
This book spoke volumes to me, maybe because I’m working on my own writing, my own creations.
However, it isn't without it's faults. The fact that the main premise of the book centres around a man expressing his hatred for the work of a woman and then that very woman asking him for help to 'fix' or help people to better understand her creation, seems more than a little arrogant.
There were also times when I felt as though I was 'missing' something. As if the story was only meant for those who had read the author's other books (which I haven't) and so I almost felt as though I'd skipped a step, not able to fully understand certain parts of it.
That aside, I can't deny that I did enjoy the ghost story itself. I experienced moments of humour, fear, trepidation, awe and beauty in this book and I would highly recommend it to readers and writers alike.
So, going into this book I had literally no clue what to expect only that it was supernatural fiction, and I only know that because it was one of the books featured on the supernatural panel at the NYALitFest.
Whilst the genre on Goodreads categorises this as a horror, I wouldn't particularly agree, although it is a gripping ghost story.
I opened this book on a whim and quickly fell in love with the prose, the rhythm and flow of the words, and the poetry-esque format, so much so that I couldn't put it down. I devoured this book in just two hours.
I quickly fell under the writers spell, his voice swept me up immediately and plunged me into the story, the setting, the mystery. I had a hard time actually figuring out whether it was fiction or non-fiction, and I love that it made me doubt reality (or at least my reality) for a little while.
This book spoke volumes to me, maybe because I’m working on my own writing, my own creations.
However, it isn't without it's faults. The fact that the main premise of the book centres around a man expressing his hatred for the work of a woman and then that very woman asking him for help to 'fix' or help people to better understand her creation, seems more than a little arrogant.
There were also times when I felt as though I was 'missing' something. As if the story was only meant for those who had read the author's other books (which I haven't) and so I almost felt as though I'd skipped a step, not able to fully understand certain parts of it.
That aside, I can't deny that I did enjoy the ghost story itself. I experienced moments of humour, fear, trepidation, awe and beauty in this book and I would highly recommend it to readers and writers alike.
June 1, 2023
هم ترجمه و هم خود داستان خوب و گیرا بود، شاید اگر نویسنده یک مقداری بیشتر روی ایدهاش و پیامی که قرار بود در انتها به صورت خواننده عملا کوبیده شود کار میکرد داستان بهتری از آب درمیامد اما بعنوان رمان نوجوان و تقریبا راحتخوان، از خواندنش لذت بردم
October 12, 2022
După titlu și coperta m-am așteptat la ceva cu adevărat horror.
A avut puțin suspans pe alocuri, însă nu ceva care sa ma facă sa dorm cu lumina aprinsa.
Un scriitor de cărți horror merge în munți, la o cabana pentru a scrie... Însa nu are inspirație deloc și zilele trec...
Până la începutul ierii trebuie sa se întoarcă acasă, însă diferite evenimente îl împiedică sa își scrie propria carte.
Mi-a plăcut abordarea și sublinierea gândului ca totul se întâmplă în capul nostru sau cel puțin totul începe de acolo. Monștrii nu exista decât daca le dam noi viata.
A avut puțin suspans pe alocuri, însă nu ceva care sa ma facă sa dorm cu lumina aprinsa.
Un scriitor de cărți horror merge în munți, la o cabana pentru a scrie... Însa nu are inspirație deloc și zilele trec...
Până la începutul ierii trebuie sa se întoarcă acasă, însă diferite evenimente îl împiedică sa își scrie propria carte.
Mi-a plăcut abordarea și sublinierea gândului ca totul se întâmplă în capul nostru sau cel puțin totul începe de acolo. Monștrii nu exista decât daca le dam noi viata.
January 15, 2019
Trigger Warnings:Talk of the death of a child, descent into madness??
The book that made me want to actually read Frankenstein for myself.
The Monsters we deserve shares an author's descent into madness, or his visit from a ghost and the characters that ghost created, or is it about a man doing some serious soul searching after living a lie, or is it just the author’s wild imagination spilling onto the page or is that all far too much credit being given to Marcus Sedgewick? Perhaps this is simply just the inner ramblings of an author musing on the meaning of someone else’s story, unfiltered and unedited?
Maybe it’s all of those things.
This is a weird beast of a book. If you like your stories to make 100% sense, and be told in a linear format than perhaps this isn’t for you.
I’m still not sure if it’s for me either and I love both of those things.
We follow an author who has made his way to the French Alps to do a bit of self discovery and write a book with more meaning than the horror novels of his past.
But something is following him, a lie, another author, a monster and a child deserted by it’s parent.
The Monsters We Deserve is a confusing novel to say the least.
Through it, Sedgewick plays with genres like horror, mystery and the paranormal while also using it as a way to analyze a book 200 years it’s senior.
Despite all this confusion—and believe me when I say, this book holds confusion in spades—I still really enjoyed it??? I don’t know what it is but I am someone who will always have a soft spot for nonlinear books or books with a narrator who is slowly losing their grasp on reality.
It just always makes for a much more engaging story for me. It is more in step with the way I think so it's easier to read a book told that way.
Does that mean it’s a good book? For me, the jury is still out on that one, but that doesn’t change the fact that I enjoyed the ride.
I’d also like to note that I haven’t read Frankenstein yetyes I know, shame on me so there is likely things I missed because of that!
—
Thank you to Netgalley for providing me an advanced reader copy in exchange for my honest review.
___
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The book that made me want to actually read Frankenstein for myself.
Something else: it has always struck me as troubling that the words in books are printed in black and white, when life is anything but. The binary colour of words on a page give the sense of simplicity and clarity. But life doesn’t work like that. And neither should a good story. A good story ought to leave a little grey behind, I think.
The Monsters we deserve shares an author's descent into madness, or his visit from a ghost and the characters that ghost created, or is it about a man doing some serious soul searching after living a lie, or is it just the author’s wild imagination spilling onto the page or is that all far too much credit being given to Marcus Sedgewick? Perhaps this is simply just the inner ramblings of an author musing on the meaning of someone else’s story, unfiltered and unedited?
Maybe it’s all of those things.
This is a weird beast of a book. If you like your stories to make 100% sense, and be told in a linear format than perhaps this isn’t for you.
I’m still not sure if it’s for me either and I love both of those things.
What do they say? Knowledge is knowing that Frankenstein is not the monster in Mary’s novel, while wisdom is knowing that Frankenstein is the monster, no two ways about it. He creates a creature that kills the innocent, and does nothing to confess to his errors until it is too late for many innocent people.
We follow an author who has made his way to the French Alps to do a bit of self discovery and write a book with more meaning than the horror novels of his past.
But something is following him, a lie, another author, a monster and a child deserted by it’s parent.
The Monsters We Deserve is a confusing novel to say the least.
Through it, Sedgewick plays with genres like horror, mystery and the paranormal while also using it as a way to analyze a book 200 years it’s senior.
Despite all this confusion—and believe me when I say, this book holds confusion in spades—I still really enjoyed it??? I don’t know what it is but I am someone who will always have a soft spot for nonlinear books or books with a narrator who is slowly losing their grasp on reality.
It just always makes for a much more engaging story for me. It is more in step with the way I think so it's easier to read a book told that way.
Does that mean it’s a good book? For me, the jury is still out on that one, but that doesn’t change the fact that I enjoyed the ride.
I’d also like to note that I haven’t read Frankenstein yet
If I can carry this burden, I need have no fear of you. Nor anyone.
—
Thank you to Netgalley for providing me an advanced reader copy in exchange for my honest review.
___
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June 6, 2019
It is pleasantly written and the design is nice but it's still a piece of sanctimonious slander targetting an author and her most famous work by judging morals from 200 years ago with the morals of today, something other holier-than-thou semi-intellectual sludge artists tend to do when discussing HP Lovecraft.
Mister Marcus Sedgwick took a tiny little bit of effort to dress this glorified opinion piece up to look like it's part ghost story before using that angle in a scene where the author has a conversation with Mary Shelly's ghost to claim a personal moral victory. You shameless, smug, vile prick.
It also amused me for lack of a better word that for a man who has so much disdain for snobbery he sure has no qualms about letting his reader know how fluent he is in German and French, quoting Nietzsche's overly famous quote about staring into the abyss only then in German.
PS: I hate you.
Mister Marcus Sedgwick took a tiny little bit of effort to dress this glorified opinion piece up to look like it's part ghost story before using that angle in a scene where the author has a conversation with Mary Shelly's ghost to claim a personal moral victory. You shameless, smug, vile prick.
It also amused me for lack of a better word that for a man who has so much disdain for snobbery he sure has no qualms about letting his reader know how fluent he is in German and French, quoting Nietzsche's overly famous quote about staring into the abyss only then in German.
PS: I hate you.
May 11, 2022
I wanted to read a short horror novel: this one was perfect as it is an hommage to Mary Shelley and her novel,
Frankenstein: The 1818 Text
.
First, the writingstyle is very special: the narrator writes strangely and is quite unreliable, which I love! He is in a house in the middle of nowhere, on a pilgrimage to write a book about Mary Shelley and her famous work, a novel he hates with all his heart. Given these circumstances, it was a bit hard for me sometimes to appreciate the narrator: he felt a bit arrogant and was clearly judging the book and kind of despising the author.
Then, this novel is clearly a reflexion about creativity and the creator's responsability once his creature is born. It was intelligent, metaliterary and quite fascinating. Moreover, the horror aspect was more centered around the oppressive atmosphere. It was based on dread, on anticipation, on fear more than on gore or violence.
Finally, we can get something more from this reading. Of course, the works we love have flaws, they aren't perfect, they're full of plotholes or incoherences or coincidences; but it's not what really matters to most of the readers. Most don't expect something perfect: they expect something that teaches and moves, just like Mary Shelley did with Frankenstein.
So, I had a good time with this novel, and I'll probably read other books by this author!
First, the writingstyle is very special: the narrator writes strangely and is quite unreliable, which I love! He is in a house in the middle of nowhere, on a pilgrimage to write a book about Mary Shelley and her famous work, a novel he hates with all his heart. Given these circumstances, it was a bit hard for me sometimes to appreciate the narrator: he felt a bit arrogant and was clearly judging the book and kind of despising the author.
Then, this novel is clearly a reflexion about creativity and the creator's responsability once his creature is born. It was intelligent, metaliterary and quite fascinating. Moreover, the horror aspect was more centered around the oppressive atmosphere. It was based on dread, on anticipation, on fear more than on gore or violence.
Finally, we can get something more from this reading. Of course, the works we love have flaws, they aren't perfect, they're full of plotholes or incoherences or coincidences; but it's not what really matters to most of the readers. Most don't expect something perfect: they expect something that teaches and moves, just like Mary Shelley did with Frankenstein.
So, I had a good time with this novel, and I'll probably read other books by this author!
January 31, 2022
Whether this can be called a horror book or not, it definitely tackles the concept of books and what they are supposed to represent in a very interesting way. There are many perspectives one can take in interpretating this piece of writing, all of which would end in interesting conversations. Can it be called a critique against Mary Shelley's Frankenstein? Does it dabble in philosophical question regarding the loss of control an author has over their book once it is published? Or is it a take on any type of "monster" we create and how we are responsible for the consequences they bring with them.
It was an interesting read that definitely lets you mull over the meaning behind it for a good while. I think my favorite quote was "If what we make comes back to haunt us, to define us and alter us, well, then, hadn't we better be very careful what we create?"
If you like a mix between soft horror elements and philosophical questions presented in a stream of consciousness of an author seeking to drive home the point that " we get the monsters we deserve", this might be a book for you. Although, it might make your read more enjoyable if you have actually read Mary Shelley's Frankestein and agree on some of the criticism presented.
It was an interesting read that definitely lets you mull over the meaning behind it for a good while. I think my favorite quote was "If what we make comes back to haunt us, to define us and alter us, well, then, hadn't we better be very careful what we create?"
If you like a mix between soft horror elements and philosophical questions presented in a stream of consciousness of an author seeking to drive home the point that " we get the monsters we deserve", this might be a book for you. Although, it might make your read more enjoyable if you have actually read Mary Shelley's Frankestein and agree on some of the criticism presented.
August 23, 2018
I received an ARC and in exchange am posting an honest review, which is, in summary, "that was weird." I'm really not sure what to make of this metafictional book about a writer writing a book about a book he hates.
I loved the cover design. I've never read any Marcus Sedgwick before, but had heard that he wrote decent speculative fiction and have wanted to check him out for some time.
Yet this wasn't what I expected. At it's core it's stream of consciousness ghost story meets literary analysis of Frankenstein. It has some genuinely chilling moments, interesting prose and an unreliable narrator blurring the line between truth and fiction.
But also: nothing really happens, his rambling musings are boring, and the story ends with a whimper. Lastly, that a female author who struggled to obtain recognition then asks a male author for help just irked me.
I loved the cover design. I've never read any Marcus Sedgwick before, but had heard that he wrote decent speculative fiction and have wanted to check him out for some time.
Yet this wasn't what I expected. At it's core it's stream of consciousness ghost story meets literary analysis of Frankenstein. It has some genuinely chilling moments, interesting prose and an unreliable narrator blurring the line between truth and fiction.
But also: nothing really happens, his rambling musings are boring, and the story ends with a whimper. Lastly, that a female author who struggled to obtain recognition then asks a male author for help just irked me.
August 20, 2020
I haven't read Frankenstein yet, but that's irrelevant.
If you're going to write a book that:
a) slags off a classic
b) insinuates that you or your protagonist uniquely understands the content of said classic and
c) appropriates the author as a literary device and gets them to beg your MC to do them a solid and rewrite said classic.......
you'd better make damn sure it isn't as mediocre as this.
In fact, the further away from this book I get the more annoyed I feel by the presumption and arrogance of it all.
I would have one-starred it, but I'm a sucker for gorgeous artwork and the pictures were divine.
If you're going to write a book that:
a) slags off a classic
b) insinuates that you or your protagonist uniquely understands the content of said classic and
c) appropriates the author as a literary device and gets them to beg your MC to do them a solid and rewrite said classic.......
you'd better make damn sure it isn't as mediocre as this.
In fact, the further away from this book I get the more annoyed I feel by the presumption and arrogance of it all.
I would have one-starred it, but I'm a sucker for gorgeous artwork and the pictures were divine.
February 14, 2021
If this author writes ONE MORE FREAKING THING ABOUT FRANKENSTEIN I WILL SCREAM!!!!
October 18, 2019
I’m going to start off by saying that this is a strange book. But I think what makes it strange, also makes it brilliant? I never do spoiler reviews/summaries, but I feel like I need to for this one. So SPOILER ALERT!
.
It takes place with the author or narrator alone in a secluded house in what seems like the middle of nowhere and he’s trying to write his next book. It's like reading his thought process or reading a journal. Which sometimes I hated. He also expresses his deeply weird hatred for Mary Shelly’s Frankenstein. He tells us why, but what stuck out to me is the ongoing modern debate of whether you can separate the author from their work and vice versa. This is where it starts to read like an essay or critique on Frankenstein. I think he’s going crazy at this point because Mary Shelly appears to him and they talk about why he hates the book so much. Side note - she points out that they both have the same initials: M.S. She says that she got the inspiration for Frankenstein from her husband and Lord Byron which I thought was a neat detail of British literature. She tells him that he is the writer that needs to make her book not misunderstood and threatens him with a visit of her creation. Frankenstein? I’m thinking that the isolation has made him a little crazy. Is it all in his head? Later, Victor/Dr. Frankenstein appears to him and he expresses his hatred toward Mary Shelly for making him create a monster. I thought this was another great idea, because you never see characters from stories talk outside their story, or at least it’s very rare. Mary appeared to him again after his paranoia of Frankenstein coming, but it was young Mary instead. They talked about the meaning of her book and how its misinterpreted. The real meaning is that we are responsible for what we create. In the sense that Victor shunned his creation and that made him a monster. Essentially, what we find out is that Victor should have loved him like a child and no child should be abandoned or abused for looking a certain way or for any reason. That's how you create a monster. The author decides to help her. [That conversation was probably the best part in the book.] So back to that modern debate. Who is responsible? The monster or the person who created the monster. How far back does that question go? In the end, the author confesses that he stole the plot of Frankenstein for his first successful book and no one called him out on it, because no one actually has read Frankenstein. It ends with him saying that he can’t fear himself or anyone if he is to continue carrying that burden. Guilt? I think he was also having a panic attack and it was all in his head. He basically admits that he was the monster all along. We Get The Monsters We Deserve. That’s what the letters before each chapter spelled out. It’s also full of eerie illustrations that make the book more haunting. Overall, it was a great read that had me thinking.
.
It takes place with the author or narrator alone in a secluded house in what seems like the middle of nowhere and he’s trying to write his next book. It's like reading his thought process or reading a journal. Which sometimes I hated. He also expresses his deeply weird hatred for Mary Shelly’s Frankenstein. He tells us why, but what stuck out to me is the ongoing modern debate of whether you can separate the author from their work and vice versa. This is where it starts to read like an essay or critique on Frankenstein. I think he’s going crazy at this point because Mary Shelly appears to him and they talk about why he hates the book so much. Side note - she points out that they both have the same initials: M.S. She says that she got the inspiration for Frankenstein from her husband and Lord Byron which I thought was a neat detail of British literature. She tells him that he is the writer that needs to make her book not misunderstood and threatens him with a visit of her creation. Frankenstein? I’m thinking that the isolation has made him a little crazy. Is it all in his head? Later, Victor/Dr. Frankenstein appears to him and he expresses his hatred toward Mary Shelly for making him create a monster. I thought this was another great idea, because you never see characters from stories talk outside their story, or at least it’s very rare. Mary appeared to him again after his paranoia of Frankenstein coming, but it was young Mary instead. They talked about the meaning of her book and how its misinterpreted. The real meaning is that we are responsible for what we create. In the sense that Victor shunned his creation and that made him a monster. Essentially, what we find out is that Victor should have loved him like a child and no child should be abandoned or abused for looking a certain way or for any reason. That's how you create a monster. The author decides to help her. [That conversation was probably the best part in the book.] So back to that modern debate. Who is responsible? The monster or the person who created the monster. How far back does that question go? In the end, the author confesses that he stole the plot of Frankenstein for his first successful book and no one called him out on it, because no one actually has read Frankenstein. It ends with him saying that he can’t fear himself or anyone if he is to continue carrying that burden. Guilt? I think he was also having a panic attack and it was all in his head. He basically admits that he was the monster all along. We Get The Monsters We Deserve. That’s what the letters before each chapter spelled out. It’s also full of eerie illustrations that make the book more haunting. Overall, it was a great read that had me thinking.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
May 5, 2022
Honestly, I don’t even know.
This was immensely enjoyable. The cover is amazing, the writing style tells a story of its own, the formatting and font size is just perfect to read…
But.
The story took some turns that I wasn’t expecting. For one, I was not expecting this book to include a certain famous author to be its plot line. Like I wasn’t expecting it at all. I had started the book with the assumption there’d be a monster stalking this guy who is renting out a house that’s not too close to the nearest town. I mean, this book is in the horror genre of goodreads so of course that was what I had thought. But when the other character was introduced, it felt like all that build up just went out the window. It felt like the whole plot just changed completely, went a full on different direction. (Notice that comma?)
It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. It was still an alright plot afterwards, but it kind of made me mourn for a plot that I thought was happening, if you know what I mean.
Quick edit: IM STUPID. I DIDN’T READ THE BLURB ON GOODREADS, BUT THE BLURB ON THE ACTUAL BOOK MENTIONS ABSOLUTELY NOTHING ABOUT MARY SHELLEY, SO BLAME THE PUBLISHERS.
The message of the book was also difficult for me to understand. It was explained in increments throughout the novel but at the end I was still pretty clueless.
This is still one of my favourite books, weirdly enough. I’m addicted to the writing style and how it made me feel, but I realised other people wouldn’t think it’s as good.
I rated this 5 stars when I finished it. Changed it to 4 stars as I started this review. Finally, I made it 3 stars after writing down my thoughts and realised this book could’ve been a bit better. It’s 3.5 stars at most, maybe 4. Okay, nevermind, I’m making it 4 stars.
This was immensely enjoyable. The cover is amazing, the writing style tells a story of its own, the formatting and font size is just perfect to read…
But.
The story took some turns that I wasn’t expecting. For one, I was not expecting this book to include a certain famous author to be its plot line. Like I wasn’t expecting it at all. I had started the book with the assumption there’d be a monster stalking this guy who is renting out a house that’s not too close to the nearest town. I mean, this book is in the horror genre of goodreads so of course that was what I had thought. But when the other character was introduced, it felt like all that build up just went out the window. It felt like the whole plot just changed completely, went a full on different direction. (Notice that comma?)
It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. It was still an alright plot afterwards, but it kind of made me mourn for a plot that I thought was happening, if you know what I mean.
Quick edit: IM STUPID. I DIDN’T READ THE BLURB ON GOODREADS, BUT THE BLURB ON THE ACTUAL BOOK MENTIONS ABSOLUTELY NOTHING ABOUT MARY SHELLEY, SO BLAME THE PUBLISHERS.
The message of the book was also difficult for me to understand. It was explained in increments throughout the novel but at the end I was still pretty clueless.
This is still one of my favourite books, weirdly enough. I’m addicted to the writing style and how it made me feel, but I realised other people wouldn’t think it’s as good.
I rated this 5 stars when I finished it. Changed it to 4 stars as I started this review. Finally, I made it 3 stars after writing down my thoughts and realised this book could’ve been a bit better. It’s 3.5 stars at most, maybe 4. Okay, nevermind, I’m making it 4 stars.
January 14, 2023
3 stars
This was very odd. There didn't seem to be much of a structure and the book hovered between autobiographical and fiction and literary criticism which can be done well but in this case made the book feel very self-indulgent and this wasn't always a good thing. I liked some of the devices used, but many times they were over-done and I have a Thing about using formatting in order to have a secret message or something which this book did so minus points for that. I'm also not big on ghosts as a plot device, because it feels very lazy and I just don't think ghosts are the snazziest supernatural creature out there, and although that may have been the point, it was also a lazy point to make so yeah. However, I did really like the overall messaging and the book had some very poignant moments, thus a higher rating than I'd otherwise give it. Overall, I'm probably being quite harsh here and it really wasn't that bad - just not for me. Would recommend to the 'Frankenstein' girlies and anyone into quirky YA with half-decent writing but otherwise I wouldn't be in any rush to read it.
This was very odd. There didn't seem to be much of a structure and the book hovered between autobiographical and fiction and literary criticism which can be done well but in this case made the book feel very self-indulgent and this wasn't always a good thing. I liked some of the devices used, but many times they were over-done and I have a Thing about using formatting in order to have a secret message or something which this book did so minus points for that. I'm also not big on ghosts as a plot device, because it feels very lazy and I just don't think ghosts are the snazziest supernatural creature out there, and although that may have been the point, it was also a lazy point to make so yeah. However, I did really like the overall messaging and the book had some very poignant moments, thus a higher rating than I'd otherwise give it. Overall, I'm probably being quite harsh here and it really wasn't that bad - just not for me. Would recommend to the 'Frankenstein' girlies and anyone into quirky YA with half-decent writing but otherwise I wouldn't be in any rush to read it.
October 12, 2025
3.25/5
“The day that a machine can tell a decent story is the day we should dig a six foot hole in the ground, gently lay ourselves down inside it and let the falling soil cover our faces and take us away.”
Yikes. The author may want to consider a follow-up novel to address the birth of AI, which is now arguably capable of doing just that!
There was a fateful summer in 1816, at Villa Diodati on Lake Geneva. It was a summer blighted by volcanic gases and noxious ash that darkened skies and created treacherous storms. It also spawned the creation of new monsters that would become an integral part of our culture.
While this book doesn’t provide new information around this monumental point in time, it explores its long-lasting implications and impact. If you’re fascinated by the Shelley’s, Polidori, Lord Byron, Claire Clairmont and Gothic stories, consider checking this one out.
“The day that a machine can tell a decent story is the day we should dig a six foot hole in the ground, gently lay ourselves down inside it and let the falling soil cover our faces and take us away.”
Yikes. The author may want to consider a follow-up novel to address the birth of AI, which is now arguably capable of doing just that!
There was a fateful summer in 1816, at Villa Diodati on Lake Geneva. It was a summer blighted by volcanic gases and noxious ash that darkened skies and created treacherous storms. It also spawned the creation of new monsters that would become an integral part of our culture.
While this book doesn’t provide new information around this monumental point in time, it explores its long-lasting implications and impact. If you’re fascinated by the Shelley’s, Polidori, Lord Byron, Claire Clairmont and Gothic stories, consider checking this one out.
October 24, 2018
Umso weniger ihr über die Handlung wisst, desto mehr Spaß bereitet es, dieses Buch zu lesen und desto gruseliger ist auch die stille Atmosphäre in den Bergwäldern, in welchen der Protagonist plötzlich ein Atmen zu hören glaubt. Bildet er sich nur ein, dass Gegenstände nicht mehr dort liegen, wo er sie zurückgelassen hat oder ist jemand bei ihm im Haus? Lässt die einsame Umgebung ihn fantasieren oder…? Zur schaurigen Stimmung trägt außerdem die monochrome Gestaltung des Buches bei: Die kurzen Kapitel sind optisch umrahmt von schwarzen Ästen, Rauchschwaden und weiteren Handlungselementen.
Neben seinem auf-Mysterien-basierendem Sog setzt sich das Buch außerdem auf der metafiktionalen Ebene mit Fragen über die Autorschaft auseinander. Was für eine Verantwortung haben Autor.innen für ihre Schöpfungen und wie beeinflussen diese sich gegenseitig? Ist es wirklich noch deine Schöpfung, wenn es in die Köpfe anderer Leser.innen gerät und wo verläuft die Grenze zwischen Erzähler.in und Autor.in? Der Roman ist sich selbst extrem bewusst und spielt bis zum Ende relativ gekonnt mit diesen Elementen.
Ein schnelles und dennoch anspruchsvolles Lesevergnügen für die dunklen Jahreszeiten, das mit seiner Mischung aus Du hättest gehen sollen, Nach einer wahren Geschichte und A Christmas Carol für ein schauriges Prickeln im Nacken sorgt.
Neben seinem auf-Mysterien-basierendem Sog setzt sich das Buch außerdem auf der metafiktionalen Ebene mit Fragen über die Autorschaft auseinander. Was für eine Verantwortung haben Autor.innen für ihre Schöpfungen und wie beeinflussen diese sich gegenseitig? Ist es wirklich noch deine Schöpfung, wenn es in die Köpfe anderer Leser.innen gerät und wo verläuft die Grenze zwischen Erzähler.in und Autor.in? Der Roman ist sich selbst extrem bewusst und spielt bis zum Ende relativ gekonnt mit diesen Elementen.
When we read a book, though, we call it ours, don’t we, and I have always said that’s because readers make a book their own through reading it. They do half the work, with their own imaginations, fleshing things out, painting each character and place and event in more detail than we actually set down on paper, and we writers merely set the readers on their way.
(p. 139f.)
Ein schnelles und dennoch anspruchsvolles Lesevergnügen für die dunklen Jahreszeiten, das mit seiner Mischung aus Du hättest gehen sollen, Nach einer wahren Geschichte und A Christmas Carol für ein schauriges Prickeln im Nacken sorgt.
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