Cover Penguin classics edition published in 2003 – the edition I own

(5) MARY SHELLEY –

FRANKENSTEIN (1818)

“It’s alive!”

Wikipedia proposes that “Frankenstein is one of the best-known works of English literature”. I don’t know – in my opinion, it is, and it isn’t.

It isn’t because much of Frankenstein in popular culture or imagination comes not from the novel but from its cinematic adaptations, particularly the 1931 film directed by James Whale, such as my opening quote and indeed the whole mechanics – or dare I say it, the ‘electrics’ – of the creation of the monster.

That creation isn’t really the primary source of horror in the novel, so the novel is somewhat vague about it and indeed mostly skips over it to get to the main point, the conflict between the monster and its creator – or rather, the horror of the creator at his creation (or creature).

So that whole process of the monster “as a composite of whole body parts grafted together from cadavers and reanimated by the use of electricity” is not so much in the novel. I seem to recall hints of electricity or ‘galvanism’ (albeit perhaps more as influences on the novel than in the novel itself) but the novel is understandably coy about the details of the monster’s animation or reanimation other than it being part of the discovery of a previously unknown scientific “elemental principle of life”. For that matter, there are definitely explicit references to alchemy and magic, but these are also explicitly dismissed as possible mechanics for the creation of the monster.

Not only does much of Frankenstein in popular culture or imagination originate from elsewhere than the novel, but there’s substantial parts of the novel that tend not to find their way into adaptations, let alone popular culture or imagination. There’s the whole focus on Milton’s epic poem Paradise Lost, which is also implausibly what the monster uses to learn to read – although that’s simply one part of the implausibly contrived way the monster learns language at all.

Speaking of allusions or references, most adaptations – and even contemporary editions of the book – tend to drop the Shelley’s subtitle and subtext, the modern Prometheus.

Or that the whole novel itself is epistolary, with the framing device that it is written as a letter by the captain of an Arctic discovery ship to his sister – who firstly recounts the surprisingly detailed tale told to him firstly by the Victor Frankenstein dying from exposure to the Arctic ice after being found by him or his crew, and secondly by the monster when the latter pops in for an epilogue. For that matter, this whole ending by icy showdown in the Arctic between the monster and his creator tends to be replaced in popular culture or imagination by the fiery end at the hands of the village mob from the 1931 film.

And yet on the other hand it is “one of the best-known works of English literature” because of that very influence within popular culture and imagination that has seen plot details from the novel displaced by its adaptations. After all, the details may differ but the core concept or premise, basic plot, and themes remain the same – “infused with elements of the Gothic novel and the Romantic movement, it has had a considerable influence on literature and on popular culture, spawning a complete genre of horror stories, films, and plays”.

Its influence is such that it is often argued to be the first work (or trope maker) of science fiction – such as by Brian Aldiss in his history of SF, Billion Year Spree.

Not bad for the first novel of a teenaged girl who wrote it in a private competition with the two leading poets of the day, her future husband (and then partner) Percy Shelley and Lord Byron, to see who could write the best ghost or horror story – and who clearly won, given the novel’s influence and adaptations. Interestingly, the runner-up was neither Percy Shelley nor Lord Byron, but fellow guest Jonn Polidori with the first published modern vampire story in English, “The Vampyre” (albeit working from a fragment of a story from Byron).

You probably know that Frankenstein is not the name of the monster but of his creator, Victor Frankenstein – the archetype of scientific hubris, or more proverbially, the mad scientist – although the two tend to be conflated in name.

You also probably know the basic premise and plot. Boy meets girl, boy loses girl – no, wait, I mean, boy makes monster, boy rejects monster, and it doesn’t end well from there. Actually, there’s also the traditional boy meets girl plot in there but that doesn’t end well either, thanks to the crossover with the boy makes monster plot – as well as the boy makes girl for monster and boy rejects making girl for monster plot.

One of the ambiguities of the novel is making the monster may not be so bad of itself, it’s that Victor is the archetypal deadbeat dad who skips out to the store for some cigarettes and never comes back, because he is so horrified by the monster’s appearance. Hey pal, you made it! Funny that its appearance never bothered you throughout the lengthy process of making it until after you brought it to life. Perhaps all the subsequent pain could have all been avoided if he had made his monster less, well, monstrous, and more, you know, attractive? You know, in the style of Rocky from Rocky Horror Picture Show – or for that matter, how the Bride of Frankenstein tends to be depicted in adaptations.

Anyway, after he is so superficially abandoned, the monster rises to his own villainy with a murderous rampage. Okay, so murderous rampage is something of an overstatement, since he kills one person, Victor’s brother, William (and an innocent servant girl is hanged for the crime). He approaches Victor in truce, seeking Victor create a female companion for him. Victor initially does so, then destroys her as he fears a race of monsters. (Really, Victor? Come on – show a little imagination, man. You could always create her without ovaries. Or make the monster a male companion). The monster renews his rampage with a vengeance, or more vengeance anyway – killing Victor’s close friend and then Victor’s bride Elizabeth. In her bed on their wedding night – admittedly a nice villainous touch. Victor’s father dies of grief, as was the fashion at that time. Victor then pursues the monster to the Arctic for his own vengeance but fails miserably and freezes instead. The monster then mourns his creator, perhaps because he realizes he will now have nothing to do, and vows to destroy himself.

Thus, the monster wastes his potential as a Romantic Age Hulk. His character is somewhat different from his iconic film appearance, not least because he is sensitive and emotional – like an emo Hulk without the smashing. He is also highly articulate and literate, indeed having read Paradise Lost – clearly no good could come of that. Even so, he is as iconic as his creator – an enduring influence in theme, when not directly adapted in name or image. In his personal study of horror, Danse Macabre, Stephen King considered Frankenstein’s monster (along with Dracula and the Werewolf) to be an archetype of numerous horror figures in fiction, in a role he referred to as “The Thing Without a Name”.

RATING:

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Apparently, not one but two films were adapted from Leiber’s short story – one in 1967 and one in 1995, with this as the poster for the latter. I’ve never seen it so I don’t know if it’s any good or lives up to its blurb as the best horror film of the year. I suspect not.

(4) FRITZ LEIBER –

“THE GIRL WITH THE HUNGRY EYES” (1949)

Fritz Leiber rocked my fantasy world, as he did the world of literary fantasy in general, even if he is sadly overlooked in the genre now. I guess that’s the fate of most fantasy writers that aren’t the current thing or aren’t named Tolkien. There’s also Leiber’s love of cats, chess, and theater – which are all fun to see pop up in his stories like playing the fantasy nerd equivalent of a drinking game.

Anyway, there simply is too much Leiber to choose from for its influence on me or the genre. There’s his novels, of which the standout is The Big Time – an SF novel of time war, as in two sides fighting a mysterious cosmic war against each other across time and space by changing history on each other (or the Change War as they call it). It’s even more intriguing as much of the vast cosmic backstory is only dropped in hints or remains mysterious (even when Leiber set a few other stories in the same universe). Indeed, the entire novel is set in a kind of cosmic waystation (in the titular Big Time, outside Little Time or the space time of our universe constantly being changed by the war), once again evoking Leiber’s love of theater both in the story (as the waystation is for rest and relaxation) and for the story itself as it is easy to imagine it as a stageplay. It is strikingly multi-layered, as the story extends through time and space as a cosmic backdrop yet effectively takes place entirely within the one “room”, albeit a room somewhat like the Tardis.

However, it’s his stories that effectively made his reputation as well as his influence for me or the genre – stories that largely created or inspired at least two sub-genres of fantasy. There’s his most famous creations, Fafhrd and the Grey Mouser, an adventuring duo of unlikely heroes in the world of Newhon (or “no when” backwards) and the city of Lankhmar – defining many of the tropes of the so-called sword-and-sorcery or heroic fantasy subgenre. However, it is his short stories that largely created or inspired the genre of contemporary fantasy – that is, adapting fantary or horror tropes to the setting of our contemporary or modern world.

It was a close call for this entry with my runner-up story – “The Man Who Never Grew Young”. This story is not so much contemporary fantasy but a parable all of its own, although not unlike the time changing science fiction of The Big Time – the narrator lives in a world recognizably our own, but one in which history and time are now running in reverse, such that people do indeed grow younger, “born” into existence from the grave and ultimately going back to the womb before disappearing into time. Although as the title suggests, the narrator himself is mysteriously unaffected by this part of the time reversal – never growing younger although history is still going backwards all around him. I particularly like the hints, at least in my perception, that this has come about from some terrible weapon deployed in a war in the future – which has of course become the distant past to the narrator – such that time itself was broken and reversed.

However, I have to give this special mention entry to the story that has remained and resonated with me ever since I read it – which definitely is one of his stories of contemporary fantasy – and that is his modern vampire story with a twist, “The Girl with the Hungry Eyes”.

“She’s the smile that tricks you into throwing away your money and your life. She’s the eyes that lead you on and on, and then show you death. She’s the creature you give everything you’ve got and gives nothing in return. When you yearn towards her face on the billboards, remember that. She’s the lure. She’s the bait. She’s the Girl”.

RATING:

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The map of Fantasyland in the book and also part of the satirical deconstruction of fantasy tropes. It may also look oddly familiar

(3) DIANA WYNNE JONES –

THE TOUGH GUIDE TO FANTASYLAND (1996)

Following on from Dungeons & Dragons and the Encyclopedia of Fantasy, this is the third of my top three or god-tier entries that are all effectively encyclopedic reference works for the genre of fantasy, whether informally as for the rulebooks of Dungeons & Dragons or formally as for the Encyclopedia of Fantasy. The Tough Guide to Fantasyland leans more to the formal reference work of the latter arranged in alphabetical order, but with a twist – its meta-fictional premise that it is a tour guide to “Fantasyland” as the generic setting of pretty much all fantasy. The creators of fantasy stories are the “Management” of Fantasyland and their stories are “tours” for their audiences, so the book is in the style of a tourist guidebook, albeit a fictional parodic one – hence the title, adapted from the popular Rough Guide series of tourist guidebooks at the time.

The end result is a Devil’s Dictionary deconstructing the tropes or cliches of the fantasy genre – such as entry on elves, which has lodged itself deep in my psyche ever since such that I have never quite been able to look at the elves in The Lord of the Rings the same way again.

“Elves appear to have deteriorated generally since the coming of humans. If you meet Elves, expect to have to listen for hours while they tell you about this – many Elves are great bores on the subject – and about what glories there were in ancient days. They will intersperse their account with nostalgic ditties (songs of aching beauty) and conclude by telling you how great numbers of Elves have become so wearied with the thinning of the old golden wonders that they have all departed, departed into the West. This is correct, provided you take it with the understanding that Elves do not say anything quite straight. Many Elves have indeed gone west, to Minnesota and thence to California, and finally to Arizona, where they have great fun wearing punk clothes and riding motorbikes”.

RATING: 5 STARS*****

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St Martin’s Press, hardcover 1997 edition – the edition I own

(2) JOHN CLUTE & JOHN GRANT –
THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF FANTASY

The best single reference work concerning fantasy fiction in all media – even better now that it is online, although sadly, not updated like its companion and predecessor The Encyclopedia of Science Fiction.

However, that it is not updated does not detract from its greatest strength as a reference work and influence on me personally, which is not so much its entries for individual authors or works, but its compilation of fantasy themes and tropes, including its classification of fantasy subgenres. Many of these are compiled as entries under an evocative or striking phrase, many of which in turn were invented by the editors – one notable example being ‘thinning’, for the gradual loss of magic or vitality from the world.

Others include the descriptive term for one of my favorite subgenres of fantasy – posthumous fantasy, a fantasy set in the afterlife. The latter is more usually styled as Bangsian fantasy, named for John Kendricks Bangs who arguably codified or pioneered it as a modern fantasy subgenre – but often leads to confusion with its more conventional use for fiction or in this case fantasy published after an author’s death when I casually use the term posthumous fantasy elsewhere.

RATING: 5 STARS*****
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Cover – Conan the Barbarian #1 comic (October 1970), by Barry Smith and John Verpoorten, also used as the cover of the original comics omnibus Volume 1 published by Titan Books in February 2025 (fair use). Note once again the classic Conan pose

TOP 10 FANTASY BOOKS

(SPECIAL MENTION: CULT & PULP)

I’ve ranked my Top 10 Fantasy Books but fantasy is too prolific – and phantasmagorical – a genre to be confined to a mere top ten books or even my usual list of special mentions.

Instead, I have two lists of special mentions – one classic and the other cult and pulp.

This is obviously the latter – for those fantasy books or works that don’t quite that iconic status or recognition within popular culture and imagination of my classic special mentions but I like them anyway!

That or they’re an enduring influence on me despite (or perhaps because of) their “cult & pulp” status.