David Wellington - Monster Island

This is a pretty interesting take on the zombie apocalypse scenario.  I like the thought that all the God-forsaken countries are the most prepared for handling the undead.  I frequently think what it would be like to live in a place where you could die on your way to the convenience store and it would not be that out of the ordinary.  I think it would do a number on your mental state to live in a place where stray bullets and improvised explosive devices where as much an everyday occurrence as telemarketers or junk mail.  I cannot imagine the stress you would constantly be under.  As much as it would suck, it would make you more adaptable and better adjusted to the horrors of flesh eating zombies. 

It seems like being forced into a childhood of military service is the worst fate in today’s world.  Maybe the sexual slave trade is worse.  I do not know.  I never want to find out.  A career in the sex industry would not be very useful in the interest of survival if an epidemic starts to wake the dead and they happen to hunger for living flesh.   Maybe you could sleep with somebody who would protect you.  The soldier kids would be well suited for preserving for preserving the species.  Their way of life would be the perfect training for survival.  A time capsule of crimes against human rights.  The meek of today shall inherit the infected Earth.  It would be interesting if space invaders came after the zombie Armageddon and found sole survivors of our human legacy to be prepubescent warriors.  That seems a little far-fetched but it could be cool if Earth was documented like that in some intergalactic filing system or library.

My favorite character is Gary.  He seems like a well-intended junkie.  I do not like to see him die and I think he is becoming bitter and evil.  He has evolved into a super zombie and is having visions of some supernatural being.  I think his near final death experience has given him a new take on his brethren and he is better able to empathize with them.  That is how he has become this sort of zombie whisperer.  It is interesting to think of zombies as victims of their addiction to meat.  It personalizes them instead of being mere faces in an unrelenting crowd of cannibalistic doom.

Mary Shelley - Frankenstein

I can understand Victor Frankenstein’s ambitions and dreams of grandeur.  It would be pretty awesome to be remembered for greatness or for improving mankind’s quality of life.  I do not think I will do that and this story does intend to inspire people to go out and drive themselves crazy in labor the way Frankenstein did.  Instead, it seems to romanticize a practical life full of simple pleasures.  The message of Frankenstein’s warning is to forget about any desires of greatness because they could end up backfiring on you.  You will die and only be remembered by a handful of relatives briefly before you disappear, completely forgotten by history.  I would not loose any sleep over it.  Find some wet cement and plop your face in it if you absolutely want to be immortalized.  I would not take it any farther though.  You might wind up inadvertently killing off all those people near and dear to you.

            I think it is a pretty peculiar coincidence that Henry Clerval happens to pop up in Ingoslt unannounced a few hours after the completion of Frankenstein’s toils.  It seems like a good way to distract Frankenstein from his troubles but, I would still be haunted by the giant zombie raiding my minifridge while I went to Wafflehouse with my old chum.  I would not be able to enjoy my waffles.  I would be far too preoccupied.

            It seems to me that Frankenstein had just faced his initial fears of his monstrous creation instead of letting it snowball.  If I woke up one day and noticed an open sore on my penis I would instantly panic like Frankenstein did at his first glance of the creature.  After a day or two of agonizing over the sore festering on my genitals I would have to bite the bullet and realize it was not simply going to work itself out.  Training a giant brute with the intellect of a newborn would not be pleasant but neither is the embarrassing doctor visit with all the personal questions.  Both Frankenstein and I fucked around with something we should not have meddled with and now have to deal with it.  If that scenario had played out he could have a loyal and beloved sidekick when he returned to Geneva.  I think sticking around and showing the creature a heartfelt welcome to life would have been Frankenstein’s shot of Penicillin that would clear up all his future wretched blisters.  (The analogy about my penis was strictly hypothetical.)