Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley For Women in Horror Month

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mary shelley

What can I say about the woman who wrote Frankenstein? That novel is so ahead of its time, but then again, the debate about reanimating dead tissue was going on in her lifetime. She paid attention and, with her creative genius, gave the world a remarkable novel.

We all know of that remarkable weekend in Lord Byron’s Villa Diodati, but do we know that she actually finished Frankenstein in her lodgings at 5 Abbey Church Yard, Bath?

Frankenstein or the Dream of Prometheus was published when she was just 21, while married to Percy Shelley.

She wrote other books after it, but the one I’m going to mention seems as remarkable as Frankenstein. Mary Shelley’s The Last Man (1826) is well-ahead of its time also. I venture to say it’s a post-apocalyptic fiction. I don’t think that term would have existed in her day.

Its theme is death. Death was…

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I picked up a book bargain the other day, ‘A Short History of Nearly Everything’, by Bill Bryson.
I have enjoyed some of his other books, so without going through it, I thought I would enjoy this one too. Maybe, I wouldn’t have bought it if I had flicked through it, as it contained subjects that wouldn’t necessarily attract me – astronomy, geology, to name a few, in fact every ‘ology’ you could name. But because of Bryson’s fantastic ‘layman’ explanations, I find I am enjoying the book immensely.

Many Christians believe, and still believe, what the bible says that the Earth is 6,000 years old. Indeed, the controversy about the age of the Earth was heightened by the moral dilemma concerning extinction. Would God have deliberately had wiped out creatures? Clearly there was more than Noah’s flood to blame for the extinctions.

By the late eighteenth century, scientists knew…

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The Darkness in My Fiction

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In almost every review and any feedback my fiction receives, there is the reference to darkness. Yes, it’s fair–more than. Sometimes I wonder where that darkness comes from.

I said (and say) characters live in my head. Even if I’m not writing about them or thinking about them consciously, I know they’re there, lurking.

Even as a child I saw the world had horror in it. I read some books when I was probably too young to have read them. My mother was on the lookout for books with sexual themes. She wasn’t aware I was reading other sorts of books like Exodus and 1984. I read those when I was 11 and 12. Not good.

But I also read Nancy Drew and I loved it, but between Nancy Drew solving mysteries and my second guessing her, there was something else happening. I was seeing life beyond the comfort of…

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