MARY: Oh please! You’re turning yourself into one of your own heroines. Something wild in their depths, indeed!
Mary quailed a bit at the sight of her.
MARY: I certainly did not!”
Periodically, though, the writing style becomes repetitive and grating. For example, when Mary first meets her sister, she asks herself at four different times, “What in the world was she going to do with Diana?” In this vein, Mary asks herself questions throughout the book. This is an apt tool to engage the reader, but while it initially gives insight into Mary’s thought processes, very soon the continuous mental queries get irritating. In the span of single paragraphs, we are subjected to barrages of Mary’s self-interrogation: “Was Diana ... the product of his experiments? ... Why had Hyde wanted a child, and a girl specifically? ... Or was there something more nefarious behind it? ... Would it never stop aching?”
It is like this from the start of the novel to the end. Another paragraph reads: “Where were Beatrice and Justine? What had happened to them? How were Catherine and Diana doing? Why had Watson not sent word?”
Thus, inhabiting Mary’s head for the entire novel is trying, though the author has given this character an appealing briskness and sense of order. However, after spending the whole book constantly being interrupted by Mary’s childish questions, the reader stops caring about the answers and about Mary.
The narrative is also peppered with superfluities that do not add to the movement of the story. For example, there is much detail about the meals that are taken. Occasionally, one enjoys reading the quaint breakfast and teatime menus, but it is boring to be subjected to the logistics of the characters’ nutrition: “Alice followed carrying the tea tray, with cups and saucers and all the usual implements. She arranged the cups and saucers on the table, and Mrs. Poole poured out a cup of tea for each of them.”
Since the writing is a departure from modern language, and the characters, geographic details, dialogue and action successfully evoke 19th century London, the extra description only causes the reader to stumble.
Finally, the appearance of Dr Frankenstein’s original creation, Adam, seems ill-fitting, even though he is a major part of the book’s climax. Adam’s motivations, which largely drive the plot, are hard to believe. Likewise, Hyde remains nebulous, even though he plays a role in the main sequence of the book. While this does leave the reader wanting more and establishes the basis for a sequel, Hyde’s involvement appears vague and unfocused, which — in a murder mystery — is effective only as long as it is resolved. The various parts in the finale fall into place too conveniently, thereby leaving one rather incredulous about the manner in which we are strung along up to this point.
Still, the combination of Mademoiselles Frankenstein, Moreau, Rappaccini, Jekyll and Hyde make this book intriguing. Though Goss borrows largely from the works of Mary Shelley, H.G. Wells and Nathaniel Hawthorne among others, she moves their characters confidently, if not completely convincingly, through her own novel. Using the villainous scientists in the book, the author posits interesting, though unoriginal, takes on the role of science in human evolution. There is a chilling exploration of experiments in transmutation, the changing of one form of matter into another. The concept of alchemy as a way to fine-tune the human race is described in grisly detail. Goss has brought to life (pun intended) the creations of authors of long ago and woven an engaging tale of science, humanity and genius gone wrong.
The reviewer is a writer, editor and avid reader
The Strange Case of the
Alchemist’s Daughter
By Theodora Goss
Saga Press, US
ISBN: 978-1481466509
416pp.
Published in Dawn, Books & Authors, April 29th, 2018