ReMyOwStMo – Day 18
As the title suggests, I have reached the 18th day of Read My Own Stuff Month and I am way behind schedule. If I want to get through all my novels and novellas by the stroke of midnight on Halloween, I’m going to have to remove a certain part of my anatomy from a certain other part.
So, without further ado, I present to an indifferent world my musings on the hideously (so I’m told) titled Dr Frankenstein’s Gift to Womankind.
A Review of Dr Frankenstein’s Gift to Womankind by Patrick Whittaker.
By Patrick Whittaker.
Kaspar (named no doubt with the real-life Kaspar Hauser in mind) is a lad not even his own mother could love. Not to put too fine a point on it, thanks to the heavy hand of Coulthard’s Disease (a genetic disorder so rare it exists only in the pages of this book), he is cursed with a visage that makes the elephant man look like Brad Pitt. Unloved and alone in the world, he decides to put an end to his wretched life, whereupon Fate takes a hand and drops him in the lap (almost literally) of disgraced plastic surgeon, Dr Friedrich Hoffman, the one man in the world who can make things right for him.
Dr Hoffman was once the world’s foremost plastic surgeon, but thanks to a radical procedure he invented going horribly wrong, he has been disbarred from practicing his profession. Dubbed Dr Frankenstein by the world’s press, he now lives the life of a recluse on remote Thunder Island with his beautiful wife Marion and Barker, their transvestite manservant.
Rather against his will, Kaspar is whisked off to Thunder Island where Dr Hoffman illegally performs on him a modified version of the cosmetic surgery that made him a pariah. This time everything goes according to plan and Kaspar ends up with a visage that makes Brad Pitt look the elephant man.
Dr Frankenstein’s Gift to Womankind is a picaresque tale of a youth given a second chance at life, only this time he is equipped with all he needs to make that life worthwhile and possibly even wonderful. With women throwing themselves at him left, right and centre, he certainly has much to live for.
It’s told with a great deal of brio and packed with bathos and pathos. Being popular with the ladies, Kaspar soon finds, is not necessarily the key to happiness – especially not when you fall in love with the wife of the man who created you.
The prose is often flowery (as is traditional in this sort of story) but never purple. The characters teeter on the edge of caricature but nevertheless seem real, albeit in a larger-than-life kind of way. Comedy and tragedy vie to become the overarching theme of the story.
Whittaker is quite right in his contention that a few chapters in the middle aren’t quite up to the standards of the rest, but that hardly makes for a curate’s egg. Still, this reviewer for one awaits his long-promised rewrite with bated breath.