When I began work on The Secret Journal of Victor Frankenstein on the Workings of the Human Body, I wasn’t just adapting Mary Shelley’s classic, I was exhuming it. Shelley, who died in 1851, had no idea her cautionary tale about ambition and monstrosity would spark not just horror films, Halloween masks and bolts-in-the-neck clichés, but an entire mythology. I imagined Victor Frankenstein not as a mad scientist, but as a curious, obsessive student doctor scribbling anatomical