The Monsters We Deserve is an act of literary criticism wrapped up as a short gothic horror novel, in which an author staying in the Alps and obsessed with his dislike of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein starts to question the line between creator and monster. It is written in a distinctive, immediate style, trying to capture a sense of the unnerving remote location and the lingering ghosts of author and character. Indeed, the atmosphere is one of its strengths, as the combination of spooky and experimental gives it a frenzied edge, making it difficult to tell what, in the context of the narrative, is real or imagined.

It is the literary criticism part that confuses it. The narrator's hatred for Frankenstein feels at odds with the fact that the novel is likely to appeal to people with an interest in Shelley's book, no matter how much of a plot device it is. There is also something about the way the narrator (who is framed as Sedgwick himself) directs a lot of his hatred onto Mary Shelley and her failings (to go too far into the weird dynamic here would be to give spoilers, though). Most people would be likely to agree with the importance of creation and responsibility in Frankenstein that the narrator must strive to prove is the 'meaning' of it, though this is at least partly framed as unaccepted.

For a book about creation and imagination, it seems very willing to give definitive views on both the novel and the historical writers it talks about. The manner in which in the novel literary criticism becomes a definite act and one centred around authorial intention must be interpreted through the lens of the metafictional elements of the book in order to see beyond the narrator's opinionated stance. Indeed, it can feel like arguing with the narrator is the only way to engage with the idea of authors creating monsters they cannot control.

As an eerie short novel with a metafictional side, The Monsters We Deserve does pretty well. There is a lot left unsaid in between the lines, which matches up with the narrator's reluctance to tell the full truth about his previous horror writing and with the mysterious and unexplained elements in the narrative. However, as a novel engaging with Frankenstein, it is disappointing.

Well...first I disliked it, then it was vital to finish it, all the while waiting for the monster to pounce. A bit like the central character really. A book about a book, but not just any old book - Mary Shelley's gothic horror and the monster she - or Frankenstein? created. Or did the monster create itself from fertile imaginations in the minds of writers and readers? This is what an author debates as his own horror tales haunt him, as he imagines Mary's tale haunted her.
There are far more questions raised than answered, but as a tribute to the greatest horror story, this is a short, and certainly not sweet, but very compelling read. How much of it is biographical? I suspect Marcus Sedgwick won't want to let on and thus creates his own horror mystery.

The Monsters We Deserve certainly offers something different. I can't say what I was expecting, but I can confirm what I got caught me by surprise. At first I found that a tad jarring; however, I was soon sucked in to both story and concept, so my initial reaction no longer matter. The Monsters We Deserve is an intriguing idea, and it offers some interesting thoughts on the nature of creation and how characters can take on lives of their own, independent of the author's original intent, fuelled by the imaginations of the story's readers. The link with Frankenstein worked well for the most part, and I enjoyed the author's thoughts on that book, and how they connected to his own ideas, gradually changing alongside his experiences in the cabin. I didn't find the conclusion of the piece completely satisfying, and the use of incorrect punctuation here and there made me frown. Nonetheless, this was a thought-provoking and original work, and for that I commend the author.