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

Season 2, Frankenstein.

I am your host, your friend, your literary mansplainer in chief and Georgianologist, Michael

Ian Black, guiding you as always up the Swiss Alps into madness.

As we are ascending to madness as we travel with Victor Frankenstein, not descending into

madness as is so often the cliche.

When last we spoke, I had wrenched my back, which is totally fine now, totally fine.

There are no issues remaining with my back as of this moment.

Surely, there will be further pain to come, but right now, fine.

And last time, the last episode was basically a kind of Disney natureama film of him talking

about, you know, clearing his head, getting out there into the Alps, and frankly, it was

boring.

And I've opened my book here, and it looks like the place, it looks like it's going to

stay boring.

And I'm not reading ahead, but there's no dialogue, big lengthy blocks of description,

probably, of nature, and we get it, you know, we get it.

I feel like we get it.

Victor Frankenstein might be ascending the Alps, but I'm sort of descending back into

the morass of antipathy I'm feeling towards this book, because I just want hot Frankenstein

on big-buddy action.

And when I don't get that, I get frustrated.

You know, I suppose it comes from having some preconceptions of what this book is, right?

...