Frankenstein's Womb

From Hell, the Warren Ellis version. It's not Jack the Ripper, but Mary Shelley that have birth to the future. Maybe by inventing science fiction? Our ability to dream about the future? Dream and believe the dream and call the dream real life? But it cuts both ways. Frankenstein -- science -- is a "dead child". Its works burn indiscriminately. The pursuit of alchemy leads to destruction.

And the alchemist realises this. Hope lies in the private, interpersonal virtues of love and self-sacrifice.

That's what I got out of it anyways. Ellis is writing poetry rather than prose here, and you can read him in lots of ways. It's a beautiful book, with exactly that Hellboy atmosphere I needed (props Marek Oleksicki -- where does Ellis find these artists??)

Kinda want to read the rest of the Apparat line now...

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