My thoughts on books as a born-again bookworm. I only post about books I like. I try not to give negative commentary unless the book is offensive towards oppressed groups.
Anne of Green Gables is my favourite. At least, as a child, it was definitely my favourite, before LMM clawed into my soul with The Blythes Are Quoted.
I used to rattle through all of them and then at the end be so sad that it couldn’t just be Anne in Avonlea forever, partly because I have not grown out of my fuck-ups as she did and partly because I wanted her to stay where it was cosy and safe.
But I could. I could have stopped there. I could have stopped earlier, so Matthew never dies (spoiler alert). But I couldn’t.
I’m in the middle of about 6 thousand reading projects and I don’t put pressure on myself to read when I’m not enjoying it, so who knows how far this re-read is going to go. But I AM going to read them in publication order for the first time. I think it’ll be interesting.
Megan Follows being Anne and the discipline therein (possibly part 1)
I don’t remember the last time I made contact with Anne Shirley Blythe. Maybe 6 or 7 years ago. I knew a ton about supporting children then so I don’t know how it escaped me that Anne becomes an effective parent thanks to Marilla.
Maybe it’s because I already knew that Anne was swept up on the cusp of dreamy childhood at the perfect point for her to be young enough to mind her adults while also not taking them for granted, which most likely led to her becoming a gentle, firm, respectful parent. She also was lucky enough to have a cracking model in Miss Stacey.
But, my God, Marilla. I’m about to start reading the first book again so I’m not 100% sure how aligned the film is to the book but I have some memories:
In the book, Marilla doesn’t put Anne on parole. I don’t massively judge Marilla in the film for doing this, but I wish it hadn’t happened. It’s definitely more stressful and traumatic for Anne. Sometimes you have to go through stress and trauma, especially if it’s due to the reasonable needs of others (culture-dependent), but I prefer the book storyline, where she commits for good.
“You shouldn’t have twitted her about her looks, Rachel.” Marilla is frustrated on Anne’s behalf, but waits until she’s left the room to say so. AND THEN calmly waits for literally days for Anne to be ready to say sorry. Calmly. It’s radical good practice now.
“I’ll forgive you, if you’ll forgive me.” I’d give Marilla a parent training course based on this.
“I’m not pampering your vanity.” It’s pretty clear Anne’s lovely and Marilla and Matthew are or become aware. They teach her to have self-respect from the start that has nothing to do with looks.
She fumes over Mrs Barry’s treatment of Anne. I forgive Mrs Barry for this due to the word ‘ashamed’. It’s such a complete assumption of wrongness and responsibility. But I still give Marilla credit for it.
There’s never, never, never a hesitation in the value of education for Anne. It smashes any rural lack of value for women in education completely out of the water.
Marilla isn’t wrong. In fact, I think Marilla is right objectively, for her own daughter. Her own daughter could argue. Her own daughter could sneak out the window if she so wants. A child brought up in a secure household has the security to argue or to rebel.
Anne, though. Anne deserves to have her achievements met by her rewards.
Megan Follows being Anne and the discipline therein (possibly part 1)
I don’t remember the last time I made contact with Anne Shirley Blythe. Maybe 6 or 7 years ago. I knew a ton about supporting children then so I don’t know how it escaped me that Anne becomes an effective parent thanks to Marilla.
Maybe it’s because I already knew that Anne was swept up on the cusp of dreamy childhood at the perfect point for her to be young enough to mind her adults while also not taking them for granted, which most likely led to her becoming a gentle, firm, respectful parent. She also was lucky enough to have a cracking model in Miss Stacey.
But, my God, Marilla. I’m about to start reading the first book again so I’m not 100% sure how aligned the film is to the book but I have some memories:
In the book, Marilla doesn’t put Anne on parole. I don’t massively judge Marilla in the film for doing this, but I wish it hadn’t happened. It’s definitely more stressful and traumatic for Anne. Sometimes you have to go through stress and trauma, especially if it’s due to the reasonable needs of others (culture-dependent), but I prefer the book storyline, where she commits for good.
“You shouldn’t have twitted her about her looks, Rachel.” Marilla is frustrated on Anne’s behalf, but waits until she’s left the room to say so. AND THEN calmly waits for literally days for Anne to be ready to say sorry. Calmly. It’s radical good practice now.
“I’ll forgive you, if you’ll forgive me.” I’d give Marilla a parent training course based on this.
“I’m not pampering your vanity.” It’s pretty clear Anne’s lovely and Marilla and Matthew are or become aware. They teach her to have self-respect from the start that has nothing to do with looks.
She fumes over Mrs Barry’s treatment of Anne. I forgive Mrs Barry for this due to the word ‘ashamed’. It’s such a complete assumption of wrongness and responsibility. But I still give Marilla credit for it.
There’s never, never, never a hesitation in the value of education for Anne. It smashes any rural lack of value for women in education completely out of the water.
Anne of Green Gables is my favourite. At least, as a child, it was definitely my favourite, before LMM clawed into my soul with The Blythes Are Quoted.
I used to rattle through all of them and then at the end be so sad that it couldn’t just be Anne in Avonlea forever, partly because I have not grown out of my fuck-ups as she did and partly because I wanted her to stay where it was cosy and safe.
But I could. I could have stopped there. I could have stopped earlier, so Matthew never dies (spoiler alert). But I couldn’t.
Obviously this is going to take longer than Pride month.
I’m not normally one to get super drunk and I’m not normally one for hangovers, but when I do, it tends to be on very random occasions. A few years ago, I think in August, I met two friends from Uni in a restaurant in Reading. I meet these friends often. One was very late so we shared a bottle of wine while waiting for her. Then a bottle of wine with a kind of teatime dinner. Then one of their husbands joined us; more wine. Then I had a long journey back to my parents house - not the half hour journey home, but another hour at least on top. Train cocktails!
The next morning, I woke up feeling like a meal in a restaurant with old friends had lead to some very silly decisions. And I really, really didn’t want to get up. So I scoured Netflix for something fun and gentle and good and new and I came to Heartstopper.
I’m the Skins generation and I was a Skins-like teenager and I wonder about the cause and effect of that. If I’d had Heartstopper, would I have sought out milkshakes and wholesome conversations or would I have felt isolated as a natural hellraiser? Or if I’d had the choice, which would I have chosen?
It makes me think of home because I really felt like I was at home when I watched it, but it is also so cosy and caring and safe. It’s domesticated.
if you are a parent, or may become one, or you are otherwise likely to arrive in the situation of caring for a child while they eat, promise me this: if a child doesn't like a certain food or food group, you will ask them WHY. and specifically, you will pay attention to either confirming or ruling out "it makes my mouth itch" or "it makes my stomach hurt," both of which are medically important info that children may not provide unprompted. which i know because this PSA has been brought to you by "i spent my entire childhood and much of my early teens eating peas and lentils while wondering why everyone else liked the Violently Itchy Mouth Sensation so much, like were they a bunch of legume masochists or something, before i finally realized that Violently Itchy Mouth Sensation was in fact a sinister demon appearing only to me, and her true demonic name was: Legume Allergy"
A couple of years ago, when my dad was 70, I asked him if he liked physalises. He said, “Not really. They’re sharp.” Which seemed a reasonable evaluation until, “Like bananas.”
“Bananas?”
“Yes.”
“Bananas aren’t sharp. They’re sweet.”
“No, but sharp in the way they hurt your mouth.”
70. 70 years my dad spent assuming everyone loved bananas so much that they ignored the feeling of knives cutting into your tongue.
I grew up in a society when being gay was something weird and undesirable. Not criminal or even immoral, just - I guess, unfortunate? Unfortunate but creepy. This wasn’t that long ago, but I suspect the same community now would be very different.
I read Fingersmith in a friend’s house. I used to stay over there fairly often and there was always a group of us, so sitting on my own in her room reading wasn’t a particularly strange thing to do. I was about fifteen, I think, and I had more catholic tastes in literature then, so I was really enjoying the period-drama historical fiction nature of it all. This was also the house in which I had my first few lovely and playful sexual experiences with other girls.
I remember the shock. The but-you’re-not-allowed of it all. The disbelief that girls could do this in a book. In a book I’d found on my friend’s shelves. The semi-relief when I thought they were going to turn out to be “normal”. The absolute joy when it turned out they weren’t.
What she means: I understand the Chronicles of Narnia was at its heart a fairytale with theological analogies for children. But why did Lewis never address how they had to adapted to life on Earth again. Why does no one talk about how the Pevensies had to grow up with a kingdom of responsibilities on their shoulders, only to return to Earth and be children. Take Lucy, she was youngest and perhaps she adapted more quickly-but she had the memories and mind of a grown woman in an adolescent body. Edmund literally found himself in Narnia, he went from a selfish boy to mature and experienced man. He found a purpose and identity through his experiences to come back as just Edmund, Peter’s younger brother. Did people wonder why the sullen, sour boy came back, carrying himself like a wisened king? Did his mother wonder why he and Peter suddenly got along so well, why they spent so much time together now? And Susan, the girl of logistics and reason came back with a difference in her. She learned how to be a diplomat and ambassador, Susan the Gentle had to live to endure not-so-gentle circumstances. She had the respect she wanted, only to be just another teen girl. And Peter, he entered the manhood and maturity he so wanted. He earned the responsibility and stripes he yearned for. He learned to command armies and conduct the menial tasks demanded of a king to rule a nation. But he came back, appearing to be just anther glory-hungry boy. Not to mention the PTSD they must have struggled with. Especially Edmund. How often did he wake up in a sweat, screaming a sibling or comrade’s name? His parents believe it’s the war, but it’s an entirely different one he has nightmares about. How often did he have trouble with flashbacks and mood swings? And how many times did he and Peter sit over a newspaper or near the radio listening to reports on the troops. How often did they pour over lost battles and debate better strategies. Did their parents ever wonder why they seemed to understand flight war so well? How long was it before they stopped discussing these things in front of people? Why does no one talk about this???
Why does no one talk about how the Pevensies had to grow up with a kingdom of responsibilities on their shoulders, only to return to Earth and be children
It’s not addressed because it’s understood. It was the shared experience of the generation. You are describing coming home from World War One, battle wearied and aged beyond belief, but walking around in the body of a youth. C S Lewis went to the front line of the Somme on his nineteenth birthday and went back to complete uni in 1918 after demob.
Pre-Book 1: The Masquerade of Spring (novella), Action at a Distance (graphic novel), Tales from the Folly: Nightingale London 1966 (short story), Tales from the Folly: Dedicated Followers of Fashion (short story) and preliminary thoughts.
cw: references to racism
I feel like this is going to be about fifty threaded posts so I’m putting the cut in early. Spoilers way below, but only really regarding character sexuality.
The first time I saw one of these books, it was in Waterstones and I think I was about 21. Whispers Underground was on the staff recommendation shelves and I picked it up. I didn’t live in London then and I craved it so powerfully that I desperately soaked up anything that would give me any proximity to my city.
I wish I could go and tell 22 year old me that she didn’t have long to wait.
I wasn’t much of a fantasy reader and I didn’t know magical realism was a thing. But then I went to see Ben Aaronovitch interviewed at the British Library recently and he said that the readers of this series defied all market research; certainly weren’t dominantly fantasy readers. I think it’s read by people who are in love with London. He certainly is.
Every time I read a new RoL novel, I start from the beginning again and I read the first three together. So I suppose this (4.4.26) must be my 7th re-read of the first book. One of my favourites and I think by far the scariest.
I used to go to London a lot around this time (and until K and I moved here a couple of years later) and I was desperate to know the city well, know the city like a Londoner. I used to grasp at the places and people in the books and memorise the routes to go to visit them, to try to tattoo as complete a map as possible on my brain. Having been a Londoner for years now, and the idea of London has become a lot more mundane, the places I discovered through these books are still thoroughly imbued with magic. Ben Aaronovitch has a wonderful talent for place.
But it’s not just the London-ness. The magic that PC Peter Grant encounters is so deliciously matter-of-fact. The first time I read these books, I secretly totally convinced that I could cast a were-light if I just tried hard enough. A couple of years later, when I re-read them, aghast at my delusion, I found myself having another secret go while sitting on the train seat.
I got a couple of chapters into Rivers of London when it occurred to me to wonder what the chronology was. I discovered that the first one chronologically is The Masquerades of Spring, which I’d neither read, owned or had available to me on Libby. All I knew about it was what BA had said about it in the interview. But he’d said it was set in the 20s and inspired by Wodehouse. I own it now. I’ve read it now.
Race is a theme in these books. They are written by a Jewish man with a Black main character and many Black supporting (although not exclusively and that’s very important for the time in which it was written. Books may have had non-white main characters at this time in British publishing, although even fewer than now, but it was rare for them to be the main characters when there was a white supporting cast). I’m a white-presenting woman in a very multi-cultural community, so I am both unqualified to discuss race and aware of that. I’ll have to think very carefully to comment on the series’s approach. The Masquerades of Spring uses the language of the time. Inappropriate language now. This is clearly conscious and there’s a discussion on the impact of racism.
I always found it interesting how in Jeeves and Wooster, Jeeves uses the n-word that would have been appropriate at the time whereas Wooster uses the one that certainly would not have and would be revolting for a white person now. Wodehouse made Wooster canonically use racist language and set Jeeves there as a control group for anyone who hadn’t noticed.
The Masquerades of Spring is delightfully quietly Queer, with Black Queer rep. Harlem drag has had a lot of media in the last fifteen or so years, but that doesn’t make it any less fabulous or wonderful to read about. And it’s a nice sparkling jewel in the otherwise fairly straight Peter Grant world.
And a delicious Ace moment for Nightingale. Although completely at odds with Molly’s fan fiction.
I can’t imagine this is going to stick to one post so maybe this will be the pre-book-1 post.
The next one is Action at a Distance, one of the graphic novels, and I thought for a second I was going to have to break the chronology because my copy is in my house in London and I am not, but it’s on Libby! It feels quite sad to be going even from the slightly bleak glory of the gay Roaring Twenties to the war and its environs, but that’s how life was, after all, and I like that Peter is threaded through. I must have read it before, but I don’t remember it well.
I guess my closest river is the Lea. I might be wrong, but I don’t remember her coming up in the books. I wonder what kind of personality she’d have.
Books 1-2: Book 1: Rivers of London (novel), Tales from the Folly: The Home Crowd Advantage (short story), Tales from the Folly: Tobias Winter (short story), Book 2: Moon Over Soho. (novel), Tales from the Folly: The Domestic (short story)
CW for Moon Over Soho: Misgendering
Again with the early cut.
These books are, possibly accidentally, set in 2012 and they do reflect that energy. I had a fairly tough year that year, but I still remember it with huge affection. For a sports fan, which I and my loved ones are, it was a terrific year. Pre-Brexit. Obama. Golden Jubilee. They hadn’t fucked up Sherlock yet. I recall a level of optimism in 2012 that feels unimaginable now.
We were certainly still very much caught up in diet culture (I think Atkins still had a hold) and while the Olympics had an impact on the Size 0 mentality, it was early days. Love interests were always slim. It was lovely that Simone was ‘unfashionably curvy, plump and sexy’. Just the thought of it makes me want to eat cake, and I don’t much like cake.
Beverley emerges as an interesting character early on. She’s not an obvious love interest at this point, or at least there are higher priority love interests. I think Abigail becomes necessary in the later books because that was the kind of role that was intended for Beverley but she evolved out of it. I suspect she’s also been aged up, although obviously her age isn’t mentioned and may well be irrelevant, as she isn’t human.
Lea does come up! She’s the one white woman in the crowd which I guess is indicative of her Hertfordshire source, but as I think of her as an East End river, that seems a bit bizarre.
I was going to write that Soho is one of my favourite parts of London, but I think what I mean is that Soho is a favourite part of London. Whatever happens, Soho remains Soho. Full of pubs and restaurants and sex and gay, gay, gay. Full of tourists, full of Londoners, full of music, full of theatre. It’s the most accessible bit of London to non-Londoners as well, I think. (Since writing the above, K and I have decided we’re going to have an evening out in Soho tonight).
I think Moon Over Soho is the most sensual of the novels. I don’t think that tone is ever reached for again and it seems very appropriate for Soho to be the sensual setting. Jazz plays through the narrative.
Pre-Book 1: The Masquerade of Spring (novella), Action at a Distance (graphic novel), Tales from the Folly: Nightingale London 1966 (short story), Tales from the Folly: Dedicated Followers of Fashion (short story) and preliminary thoughts.
cw: references to racism
I feel like this is going to be about fifty threaded posts so I’m putting the cut in early. Spoilers way below, but only really regarding character sexuality.
The first time I saw one of these books, it was in Waterstones and I think I was about 21. Whispers Underground was on the staff recommendation shelves and I picked it up. I didn’t live in London then and I craved it so powerfully that I desperately soaked up anything that would give me any proximity to my city.
I wish I could go and tell 22 year old me that she didn’t have long to wait.
I wasn’t much of a fantasy reader and I didn’t know magical realism was a thing. But then I went to see Ben Aaronovitch interviewed at the British Library recently and he said that the readers of this series defied all market research; certainly weren’t dominantly fantasy readers. I think it’s read by people who are in love with London. He certainly is.
Every time I read a new RoL novel, I start from the beginning again and I read the first three together. So I suppose this (4.4.26) must be my 7th re-read of the first book. One of my favourites and I think by far the scariest.
I used to go to London a lot around this time (and until K and I moved here a couple of years later) and I was desperate to know the city well, know the city like a Londoner. I used to grasp at the places and people in the books and memorise the routes to go to visit them, to try to tattoo as complete a map as possible on my brain. Having been a Londoner for years now, and the idea of London has become a lot more mundane, the places I discovered through these books are still thoroughly imbued with magic. Ben Aaronovitch has a wonderful talent for place.
But it’s not just the London-ness. The magic that PC Peter Grant encounters is so deliciously matter-of-fact. The first time I read these books, I secretly totally convinced that I could cast a were-light if I just tried hard enough. A couple of years later, when I re-read them, aghast at my delusion, I found myself having another secret go while sitting on the train seat.
I got a couple of chapters into Rivers of London when it occurred to me to wonder what the chronology was. I discovered that the first one chronologically is The Masquerades of Spring, which I’d neither read, owned or had available to me on Libby. All I knew about it was what BA had said about it in the interview. But he’d said it was set in the 20s and inspired by Wodehouse. I own it now. I’ve read it now.
Race is a theme in these books. They are written by a Jewish man with a Black main character and many Black supporting (although not exclusively and that’s very important for the time in which it was written. Books may have had non-white main characters at this time in British publishing, although even fewer than now, but it was rare for them to be the main characters when there was a white supporting cast). I’m a white-presenting woman in a very multi-cultural community, so I am both unqualified to discuss race and aware of that. I’ll have to think very carefully to comment on the series’s approach. The Masquerades of Spring uses the language of the time. Inappropriate language now. This is clearly conscious and there’s a discussion on the impact of racism.
I always found it interesting how in Jeeves and Wooster, Jeeves uses the n-word that would have been appropriate at the time whereas Wooster uses the one that certainly would not have and would be revolting for a white person now. Wodehouse made Wooster canonically use racist language and set Jeeves there as a control group for anyone who hadn’t noticed.
The Masquerades of Spring is delightfully quietly Queer, with Black Queer rep. Harlem drag has had a lot of media in the last fifteen or so years, but that doesn’t make it any less fabulous or wonderful to read about. And it’s a nice sparkling jewel in the otherwise fairly straight Peter Grant world.
And a delicious Ace moment for Nightingale. Although completely at odds with Molly’s fan fiction.
I can’t imagine this is going to stick to one post so maybe this will be the pre-book-1 post.
The next one is Action at a Distance, one of the graphic novels, and I thought for a second I was going to have to break the chronology because my copy is in my house in London and I am not, but it’s on Libby! It feels quite sad to be going even from the slightly bleak glory of the gay Roaring Twenties to the war and its environs, but that’s how life was, after all, and I like that Peter is threaded through. I must have read it before, but I don’t remember it well.
I guess my closest river is the Lea. I might be wrong, but I don’t remember her coming up in the books. I wonder what kind of personality she’d have.
I still haven’t felt like writing about books at length this year, so here are my books for this month. It was a challenging month in lots of ways and I didn’t read as much, but I made some in-roads on my currently-reading challenge!
1. I was meant to go to see Ali Smith talk about Glyph at Foyles but I didn’t manage to get away from work in time. Ali Smith has been my favourite author for years, possibly since I was a teenager, and this was typically beautiful, typically spoke of hidden endless depths and typically completely immersive. Dystopian, too, which is my cup of tea. (Also was currently-reading).
2. The Faraway Tree and Wishing Chair books are my favourite Enid Blyton books. I can’t imagine how many children she inspired to write their own adventures.
3. This stepped into the currently reading challenge by a whisper. Possibly I started reading it on NYE, certainly around Christmas. A more than decent thriller.
4. One of my two favourite films as a teenager (the other was Dead Poets Society), but I never got around to reading the book. The book is in first person, whereas the film isn’t particularly, so there’s a different edge to it. The journey is longer than in the film.
5. I haven’t read the Bartimaeus books for a really long time, but I absolutely loved them. My parents recommended the Netflix series to me, which I thought was great, and I was delighted to find the books were also written by Jonathan Stroud. They’re great fun. I’ve only just started reading past where the TV series got to. Also currently-reading.
6. I’ve been wanting to read Butter for ages, ever since it was published. It was an incredibly sensual book - one of the most sensual books I’ve ever read. The characters were vivid. A very interesting insight into Japanese culture, ideas of woman, queer relationships and particularly weight. The main character is the same height as K and if K were the weight considered proper by the MC, she’d most likely be under a doctor’s care.
7. K got this book for Christmas from her best friend and passed it over to me. It’s very sad. Bad, sad things happen to everyone all the time. But I very much enjoyed the storytelling and it’s always nice to read books set in the North.
8&9. I’ve collected Chalet School books since I was a kid. I’m doing a kind of re-read where I’m starting close to the end with the intention of going back to the beginning.
I didn’t review any books in January, so here they are. Weird month.
1. One of my currently-reading-challenge. I’ve been reading it since 2017. I struggled. My friend who is an excellent reader loved it so I’m willing to except I’m not a good enough reader for it, but yeah, a struggle.
2. I miss Sophie Kinsella. No other author made it feel okay like she did. The Madeleine Wickham tone is different, but I haven’t read them before so it’s nice.
3. Loved it. Love modern fairytales and Joanne Harris is skilled at weaving magic into her writing. I wish she’d write them for all the Child Ballads.
4. Recommended to me by afore-mentioned excellent reader friend. Very moving, very varied in tone.
5. The Giver somehow came up in my life again and I reserved in on Libby. In the meantime, I started on Anastasia who I loved as a kid. I thought her very sophisticated, and I think I was right.
6. Yeah. For fans of Saltburn.
7. Bit bemused. I definitely didn’t cook anything from the River Cafe cookbook last month. Did I just read it like a novel?
8. Another one on my currently-reading-challenge. I knew there would be a proper time for this when I opened it and that that time was not then. I was right. A solidly good, sweet book.
9. I’ve been waiting for the proper time for this for ages. It felt like everyone had read it apart from me. It wasn’t the kind of book I was expecting. More matter-of-fact. More Kavalier-and-Clay-esque. Another solidly good one.
10. See above for Joanne Harris, but more, because there are more stories.
11. I said to K after I’d read this that it seemed a bit daft to observe how great it is. It’s had a trough of awards, it’s front and centre in every bookshop. I feel a bit like I’m going - “This book everyone has noticed is excellent? I too have noticed it’s excellent.” But it is.
12. I do not remember what happens. I do not remember what it’s about. I’m sure I enjoyed it. I don’t remember a single character, no matter how hard I try. It’s been wiped from my memory. And I waited for it on Libby for ages!
13. It feels to me that The Giver is very much part of the children’s canon in the US, but I hadn’t even heard of it until a couple of years ago, despite really enjoying the Anastasia books. I thought it was great - the magic and drama is retained for adult readers, but I’m confident it’s a very accessible read for kids. Beautiful storytelling and concise, thorough world-building.
14. Been meaning to read for ages and eventually asked one of my book clubs if it could be our next book because I love Jessie Buckley and wanted to read it then see the film. Didn’t even get it read in time for book club. It felt to me very much a transitional book between her early, sylph-like contemporary lyrical fiction and her newer historical fiction.
If you want to push it back even further Margaret Cavendish, the duchess of Newcastle (1623-1673) wrote The Blazing World in 1666, about a young woman who discovers a Utopian world that can only be accessed via the North Pole - oft credited as one of the first scifi novels
Women have always been at the forefront of literature, the first novel (what we would consider a novel in modern terms) was written by a woman (Lady Muraskai’s the Tale of Genji in the early 1000s) take your snide “Isaac Asimov” reblogs and stick it
even in terms of male scifi authors, asimov was predated by Jules Verne, HG Wells, George Orwell, you could have even cited Poe or Jonathan Swift has a case but Asimov?
PbbBFFTTBBBTBTTBBTBTTT so desperate to discredit the idea of Mary Shelly as the mother of modern science fiction you didn’t even do a frickin google search For Shame
Kinda funny, considering this Isaac Asimov quote on the subject:
Mary Shelley was the first to make use of a new finding of science which she advanced further to a logical extreme, and it is that which makes Frankenstein the first true science fiction story.
You know what else was invented by women? Masked vigilantes, the precursor to the modern superhero. Baroness Emma Orczy wrote The Scarlet Pimpernel in 1905. The character would later inspire better known masked vigilantes such as Zorro and Batman.
the first extended prose piece - ie a novel, was not, as many male scholars will shout, Don Quixote (1605) but The Tale of Genji (1008) written by a woman
