Sorry I’ve been gone so long everyone. I’ve had a case of the “feel bads” all week. Sometimes, when I’m feeling bad I visit my favorite rare book site and drool over the rare editions I could never have. It sounds torturous, but it does help take my mind off my lurching stomach. I’m really not sure why… if I could actually afford any of the books I want, I’d never be able to touch a single one for fear of damaging it and having to sentence myself to death for the crime of high literary treason.
Anyway… I came across this amazing copy of Frankenstein on Bauman Rare Books today and thought I’d share. One day, I will have a spare $30,000 and this will be mine!!! (Yeah, we all know that’s not gonna happen, but take it easy on me, I haven’t been able to keep coffee in my system for 3 days!)
Frankenstein rare book for sale. This by Mary Wollstonecraft SHELLEY is available at Bauman Rare Books.
Source: Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley – Frankenstein | Bauman Rare Books
Lane Brown wrote this week’s So you don’t know me, but… letter. You guys should go check his blog out at The Writerly Blog of Lane William Brown when you get a chance. 🙂
I want to give you such a hug. Most people don’t realize how much you need one. Most people don’t even know what your name is. They think it’s Frankenstein. Sometimes they know that Frankenstein was actually the name of the mad scientist, but even most people who know that think your name is Frankenstein’s Monster. I dunno which is worse, calling you by the name of that jerkface who made you and then abandoned you, or defining you solely as his monster. I suppose that isn’t too unexpected, though. You are only referred to as “Adam” in the book a couple of times and they could be interpreted as metaphors, but I still feel like it’s clear that you think of yourself as an Adam, so as far as I’m concerned, that’s your name.
But anyway I love you, and what I love most about you is how badly you wanted to be better. I read about how, after Frankenstein abandoned you, you made friends with an old blind man who taught you, not only how to speak, but reading, literature… basically you got the classical education. And most of it you got it by eavesdropping on him teaching other people. You learned by witnessing others get the nurturing, loving education that you were denied. Then you had a glimmer of a chance of a friendship with this old blind tutor, but when his sighted children saw you, and told him how you looked, you were cast out.
I wouldn’t have cast you out. I might have been a bit squicked out and awkward at first, I’m sure, but I would have tried to cover up and been polite. After time, I’m sure, I would grow used to how you look and not even be bothered by it. I would have happily talked literature with you all day. Continue reading