A review by rhensie
Our Hideous Progeny by C.E. McGill

adventurous challenging dark mysterious sad tense medium-paced
  • Plot- or character-driven? A mix
  • Strong character development? Yes
  • Loveable characters? Yes
  • Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
  • Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

5.0

Simply, wow. 

I, like the author, too disliked Frankenstein when I first read it at a similar age. As I grew older, I began to appreciate Shelley for who she was and what her art did for us, and eventually I grew to love that book too, flaws and all. And this book is all I could ever have wanted and more from a spin-off. It is gothic, feminist, queer, and angry. And honestly, I think that Shelley would enjoy this very much if she were here to read it, which I think is the greatest praise for a work like this. 

This book explores many of the same themes as Frankenstein does, such as the ethics (or lack thereof) of this type of resurrection. But where it really shines are of course the feminist elements - Mary grappling with the reality of the fact that she will never be looked upon the same as her male colleagues, no matter her discoveries, and if she wishes to be taken even an inch seriously, she must conform to gender roles that simply don't describe her. The ending
is a neat wrapping of Mary's revenge against these roles - she does something that no one could believe of her as a woman, and for that she keeps her innocence in the public eye.
The final paragraph of the author's note sums this book up well for me:

So if you like her, if she strikes a chord, this one goes out to you: the angry women, the threatening women, the solitary and the abhorred; women with cold hearts and sharp tongues, who play with fire and fall in love with monsters; women who love women, women who didn't know they were women at first but know better now, those who thought they were women at first but know better now. We shall be monsters, you and I.

One other thing I simply love in this book, and didn't expect to get, is the chronic illness representation. Though done within the confides of what was realistic in this time period, the depiction is heartbreakingly believable and still relevant to those of us with chronic illness today. Though less overt, I also strongly suspect that Mary herself is autistic, considering her rejection of gender roles and her discussion of how conversation had never come easily to her, among other elements of her character. As a young autistic child who was obsessed with Mary Anning for a period, I totally felt that in Mary. 
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