Wednesday, August 26, 2026
Revolutionary Mothers
Thursday, August 13, 2026
Love & Other Monsters
It took me a long time (two weeks) to get into Love & Other Monsters by Emily Franklin, but once I did I was spellbound. My experience was similar with The Lioness of Boston, another book written by Franklin whose unique writing style reflects the old-fashioned flourish of the time periods about which she writes. It takes a while for me to warm up to the language and manners of these bygone eras, even when the subject matter is so captivating. Lioness chronicles the fascinating and unconventional life of Isabella Stewart Gardner, known for assembling a vast collection of art at a museum she founded in Boston. Franklin's novel thrusts the reader into the larger-than-life world of old money, arts patrons, and high society.
"That he was handsome was not opinion, only fact. Documented time and again from his youth to present, twenty-eight years of age and still youthful of face. He was a slippery sort of beauty, and that very transient quality only urged his appeal."
Tragically, the love affair between Claire and Byron, though short and unhappy, produced a daughter who died at the age of five. Byron's own life was cut short at age 36 from complications of his participation in the Greek War for Independence. Claire was the only one present that summer to live to old-age. She died at 80 years old in Florence, Italy, having led a quiet but reflective life of travel, working as a governess and housekeeper.
In the Epilogue of Love & Other Monsters, Claire ponders her relationship with her famous sister.
"What is my story and what is Mary's ? Impossible to know whom I would have been without her. And she can never know whom she might've been without me, without the ghosts that clung to her from birth. Is my lack of singularity my great tragedy or great Fortune? Does a woman have to be extraordinary to be remembered?"
Here are some of my thoughts after being immersed in the tangled web of alliances in Love & Other Monsters. Certainly the fame Mary Shelley enjoyed for the success of Frankenstein could not have been worth the heartache, scandal, grief, and controversy she experienced in life! Can the human quest for fame and recognition be a dangerous thing? Or were other factors at play in the lives of these people?
On this last point, I wholeheartedly agree with Claire on the power of the written expression.
"I write the truth down, and then it does not have power over me. I am free."

