4,5 stars
Buckle up, literary adventurers, and prepare for a wild array of historical misogyny, harassment, scientific rivalries, and the psychological battlefield of a woman going against all odds. Our Hideous Progeny is a collection of human capabilities, scientific advancements and ethics, and the question what it means to truly love.
Let me start by saying you need some commitment for this book. The story starts off slow, maybe a little bit dull even, and nothing much is going on, which makes the narrative drag somewhat. While I don’t normally like that, it was rather fitting for this book, since it creates a very solid foundation for what was to come. It showed the character, Mary, in her… let’s call it “natural habitat”, to stay within the book's theme, and the obstacles in her life that she’d already had to endure. She was a woman so fleshed out, that I felt like I truly knew her, and she was a person I’d like to have in my life. The slow start of the book also portrayed the other characters in the book; it showed perfectly how they related to Mary, and how they shaped her to be the woman she ultimately was. It made the twists in the book that much more compelling and shocking. It was this solid foundation that made my blood boil, when certain ass-hats came to throw a wrench in the works and ruin what was ultimately Mary’s dream.
Since it took a while to grab my attention, I was hesitant to continue, especially because the story is narrated with a rather stiff kind of language. It fit the setting of the book, but the pacing did take a beating because of that, and especially in the first half of the book it was difficult to look past that. What kept me reading in the end, was the way McGill stabbed me in the gut with their chapter endings, and while certain scenes didn’t have a whole lot of “body”, McGill truly knows how to pack a punch and keep the reader’s attention. And in the end, I was glad I continued reading the book, since the pay-off is immense, and it’s the second half of the book that ultimately managed to capture me.
While content-wise the story was good, but nothing ground-breaking, the book is so much stronger thematically. Set in the 19th century, it shows the advancement of the natural sciences, and it perfectly mixed the related paradigms with the story itself. Spontaneous generation of life, the person-to-person transmission of cholera, and rot and decay in dead or living tissues. With even a brief mention of Charles Darwin and Jean-Baptiste de Lamarck, it ties the fictitious with the real-world scientists seamlessly. (Hah. See what I did there?)
Besides previous scientific discoveries and paradigms, the story was also centered around the social position of women in science, featuring Mary in an almost activist-y role. It was aggravating to see how her knowledge and intelligence was constantly undermined, ridiculed and shoved aside, and how her position became more and more vulnerable each day. It was maddening to see how men were favoured in high societies, just for gender reasons, and although I myself have not seen this from up-close, I felt the rage in Mary’s narration, and it has been long since I lived through a fictional character so vicariously.
The ending itself was fitting, although bitter-sweet. The tale concluded with a sour taste in my mouth, but I realized it couldn’t have ended any other way. Mary’s new friendship gave me hope, and especially since she had to fight so hard for it (not just the outside world, but also her inner insecurities after a past so traumatic and saddening) and there was nobody more deserving of that friendship than Mary herself. I call this “friendship”, but who has read the book, knows there is much more to it than that; and I salute McGill for narrating this so delicately and beautifully.
The only reason I’m not giving this a full 5 stars, is the far-fetched display of Mary’s connection with her scientific creation. It seemed rushed and over-the-top, and while I do think that animals are capable of immense love and affection, I didn’t entirely buy Mary’s attachment to what she had put together and what they meant to each other.
Ultimately, it was a wild ride especially in the second half of the book, and the blend of historical accuracy and fictional elements was perfectly executed. Beware, this is not a horror story, but a love letter to Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, a historical twist to it, and an exploration in its moral implications. With that expectation management, I think this is a close-to-perfect tale of science, women, and ethics.