Kiersten White

Don't miss this monster of a New York Times bestseller, a stunning and dark reimagining of Frankenstein that internationally bestselling author Stephanie Garber raves is "exquisitely disturbing." Elizabeth Lavenza hasn't had a proper meal in weeks. Her thin arms are covered with bruises from her "caregiver," and she is on the verge of being thrown into the streets . . . until she is brought to the home of Victor Frankenstein, an unsmiling, solitary boy who has everything--except a friend. Victor is her escape from misery. Elizabeth does everything she can to make herself indispensable--and it works. She is taken in by the Frankenstein family and rewarded with a warm bed, delicious food, and dresses of the finest silk. Soon she and Victor are inseparable. But her new life comes at a price. As the years pass, Elizabeth's survival depends on managing Victor's dangerous temper and entertaining his every whim, no matter how depraved. Behind her blue eyes and sweet smile lies the calculating heart of a girl determined to stay alive no matter the cost . . . as the world she knows is consumed by darkness. **Ebook exclusive: the full text of Mary Shelley's FRANKENSTEIN** AN NPR BEST BOOK OF THE YEAR A CHICAGO PUBLIC LIBRARY BEST BOOK OF THE YEAR "A masterful and monstrous retelling."—STEPHANIE GARBER, #1 New York Times and internationally bestselling author of Caraval and Legendary "Inescapably compelling." —VICTORIA SCHWAB, #1 New York Times bestselling author of This Savage Song "An inventive, grotesque, and completely unexpected reimagining of Frankenstein. Mary Shelley would be proud."—MACKENZI LEE, New York Times bestselling author of The Gentlemen's Guide to Vice and Virtue

The Dark Descent of Elizabeth Frankenstein

Amanda Autumn Berrey

AUTHOR’S NOTE Two hundred years ago, a teenage girl sat down and created science fiction. She did it on a dare. The coolest thing I ever did on a dare was ask my now-husband out. Which, granted, changed my world. Mary Shelley? Changed the whole world. Rarely does a story come along that reshapes the public imagination in such a startling and notable way. The fact that we are still talking about Frankenstein, studying it, remaking it, speaks volumes to the questions Mary Shelley asked. Because it isn’t the answers in stories that are interesting—it’s the questions. When I sat down to write a retelling of a book that has meant so much to me, I wasn’t sure where I wanted to start. I knew I wanted a female protagonist, but beyond that, I needed direction. I needed my questions. I found them in Mary Shelley’s own introduction to the book. In it, she deflects focus from herself, talking about her husband, the poet Percy Bysshe Shelley, instead. “My husband,” she said, “was from the first, very anxious that I should prove myself worthy of my parentage, and enroll myself on the page of fame….At this time he desired that I should write, not so much with the idea that I could produce any thing worthy of notice, but that he might himself judge how far I possessed the promise of better things hereafter.” And then in the preface, the only part of the book written by him, Percy makes certain to note that if people knew Lord Byron was writing at the same time Frankenstein was drafted, they would certainly prefer his work. Mary Shelley adored her husband. She kept his heart wrapped in a sheet of his poetry in her desk until she died. But that passage made me want to break something. Frankenstein wouldn’t exist without Lord Byron and Percy Shelley’s challenge—or Percy Shelley’s encouragement to Mary Shelley to keep writing. But the genius was all Mary’s. Still, at publication, for decades after, even today, people gave all credit to the men around her. After all, how could a girl—a teenage girl—accomplish something so great? So my questions began to take shape. How much of who we are is shaped by those around us? What happens when everything we are depends on someone else? And, as always: Where are the girls? Even Mary’s wild and expansive imagination could not put a girl at the forefront of this story. They’re relegated to the background, mere caricatures. And that was where I found my story. With a girl given to a boy as a gift. With a girl whose whole life revolves around the brilliant boy she loves. With a girl who inadvertently helps create a monster. With a teenage girl, because, as Mary Shelley proved, nothing is more brilliant or terrifying than that.

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