From the Jill Schwartz Memorial Library here in the wilds of Connecticut, this is obscure

season two, Frankenstein.

I am your host, your friend, your literary mansplain, or in chief, earlover, former Victorian

ologist, current George, and all around friend of books, Michael E. and Black.

I am delighted, as always, to be sharing Frankenstein with you.

Some doings in my life, gee, it's been a, well, it's been a difficult week here in the

wilds of Connecticut.

My tone may be chipper, my heart is heavy, lost a friend this week, a friend of 20 years,

and I'm not going to say much more about that, but I did lose a friend this week, and it

was unexpected, and it was, as these things always are, very sad.

So we've been dealing with that here in the mansion, in the wilds of Connecticut, when

I come to the Jill Schwartz Memorial Library to escape that sad fact, and to think about

Frankenstein, of course I open my mouth and what comes out but that sad fact, because

it's pretty much weighing on me pretty heavily.

That being said, the air here is clean and crisp, Christmas is nipping at our heels.

I have done almost no Christmas shopping, because I have no desire to buy gifts for anybody,

because I don't want anything, and I don't want to give anything.

Is that the Christmas spirit?

Seems like it might be.

Also, Martin, I do this dance every year, where we tell each other, we're not getting

each other anything, because we don't want, we'll need anything.

This year, Martha pointed out to me on some website, some outfit that she wanted, like

...