Stuff: “Scaled, forked-tongued Lizarde Men from the Deepe” and other hazards of life in the Royal Navy.

This is one of the most disappointing stories ever, but I share it here because I think there's a nifty idea behind it. Apparently, there was a long-standing rumor that the Royal Navy's archive of ship's logs contained a special collection of logs detailing the Royal Navy's various encounters with sea monsters. Sadly, this turned out to be BS. Here' the entire article from The Military Times's "Scoop Deck" blog:

Do the archives of the Royal Navy include volume after gilt-edged volume detailing secret encounters between Her Majesty’s warships and horrifying sea creatures? Do archivists in catacombs deep below Whitehall maintain stacks of leather-bound books with reports about ships battling giant squid, or sea dragons, or the dreaded kraken? Are there pages upon pages of hand-drawn sketches or official — but censored — woodcuts depicting men ‘o war being pulled under the waves by enormous tentacles?

In one of the lamest and most disappointing answers in history: No.

The Ministry of Defence says it has no centralized records of ships’ reports about sea monsters or other unusual maritime creatures. Officials acknowledge there may be interesting details in individual ships’ logs, but there is no immense room with immense, floor-to-ceiling shelves full of 18th Century-era reports like the one about the frigate HMS Sabre, which was lost off the Seychelles after the ship was overrun by what its surviving crew members called “Scaled, forked-tongued Lizarde Men from the Deepe.”

That said, what a cool idea for a novel series. Creative types, I give you the freebie, now scribble fast and get first to market.

Book: Fire, bad. Context rich cultural history, good.

It could be reasonably argued that the nameless monster created by Frankenstein is the single most successful and important horror icon ever. Invented nearly a century ago by and unwed teenage mother, Frankenstein and his monster have become more than household names, they've become figures of speech basic to our way of thinking about science, ethics, and the boundary between the heroic quest for knowledge and the insane pride of playing God.

In her new Frankenstein: A Cultural History, Susan Tyler Hitchcock - whose previous books include cookbooks and a pictorial history of the University of Virginia – not only makes the case for Frankenstein's centrality as a modern myth, but argues that the original novel's complexities (often hollowed out by later novelistic and filmic adaptations and pseudo-sequels) are still fresh and crucial.

To make her case, Hitchcock gives readers a chronological look at what we might take to be key signposts on Frank's way to legendary status. She starts with the novel, takes us through various stage adaptations, and then details Frankie and the Monster's film careers (from horror icon to gag in Abbott and Costello flicks). After that, the Nameless Monster stomps his way through comic books, gets camped up for television, and, finally, becomes a metaphor so potent that the word "Frankenstein" was deliberately avoided by the Presidential Panel on Bio-ethics. The fictional character's name was deemed to carry too much cultural and emotional baggage.

In some ways, the validity of Hitchcock's observation about the universality of Frankenstein works against her project. Not only are Frankenstein and his beast incredibly well-known – so are many of the stories surrounding the monster's creation. Even somebody with only a middling interest in the famous novel probably knows the general outline of its origins: Shelley was in Geneva with her soon-to-be hubby, their controversial amigo Byron, and some other minor Romantic-Era hangers-on. To entertain themselves, a contest was proposed in which each of the folks at the party was to compose a "ghost story." The begins of Frankenstein start at that party. In fact, the story is so well known that the meta-story of the tale's creation has received (very loose) film treatment twice: once into the intro to The Bride of Frankenstein and again in Gothic.

While, in the name of completeness, Hitchcock needs to retread some well-worn ground, she manages to keep reader interest by liberally spicing her work with the sort of trivia fans of the world's most popular monster pick up such books for. For example, the Geneva home that served as the site of the now famous story writing challenge had previously housed John Milton – inventor of the first Byronic hero in the form of Satan from Paradise Lost. She also fills in gaps that my be missing from even the most dedicated Frank-o-phile's personal database. For example, her extended discussion of the original novels reception and the Monster's first appearance as a political metaphor (instead of being a symbols of science gone amuck, Frankenstein and his monster served Victorian politicians as shorthand for liberal ideologies that got out of hand) will be, I think, new to many readers.

While hardcore Frank-fans probably already have small libraries of books focusing on Hammer Studios' depiction of the monster or the life of Boris Karloff, I recommend this book broad scope. Good stuff.

Frankenstein: A Cultural History is due out in hardback this October – with a sweet collage cover of monster imagery, I should add – and we'll run you $25.95.