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.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

First and foremost, thanks go to Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, whose stunning imagination continues to inspire countless stories, including this one. Thank you for being a badass goth genius and showing those poets what a real scary story is. You changed the shape of fiction forever.

Special thanks go to my own badass geniuses, Wendy Loggia and Beverly Horowitz, for asking if I would like to write a Frankenstein retelling. The answer, obviously, was yes. I’m so grateful you two prompted me to discover Elizabeth and her story.

Thank you as well to everyone at Delacorte Press and Random House, particularly Audrey Ingerson for her editorial help, Colleen Fellingham for gently reminding me how much I need a copy editor, and Aisha Cloud, my sublime publicist.

For Regina Flath and her design team, tremendous gratitude and awe. I am astonished by your creativity and ability to dream up a concept and make it into a gorgeous and unnerving cover.

Michelle Wolfson remains my ever-capable and steadfast agent, guiding my career and finding opportunities for me, even when the books are too scary for her. Sorry, Michelle. We both know I’m not getting any less creepy.

The drafting of this book would not have been possible without Natalie Whipple redirecting me, Jon Skovron being my resident Frankenstein expert, and Stephanie Perkins reading each version and helping me craft my own lovely monster. I love you all.

To Lord Byron and Percy Shelley, thanks for being insufferable and thinking there was no way Mary could write something better than you two could. Joke’s on you.