Chicano Frankenstein: A Reflection on Identity and Humanity
When I first stumbled upon Chicano Frankenstein by Daniel A. Oliva, I was immediately intrigued by the title. As a lover of both classic literature and vibrant cultural narratives, the fusion of Mary Shelley’s iconic "Frankenstein" with a contemporary Chicano twist felt like a compelling invitation to explore themes of identity, existence, and what it truly means to be alive. Thanks to @blackstonepublishing for the thoughtful approval on NetGalley—it’s a privilege to share my honest thoughts!
The story unfolds in a hauntingly vivid alternate future where "reanimation" after death is an option. However, this resurrection comes at the cost of personal memories—imagine returning to life as an entirely new person, stripped of your past and the essence of who you were. This central premise had me grappling with profound questions: What defines us? Is it our memories, our choices, or the relationships we form along the way? In a world where you are no longer recognized as yourself, how does one become a genuine individual?
Through alternating perspectives, we delve into the psyche of “the man,” our reanimated protagonist, and the formidable Madame President, who seeks to legislate against the creation of these so-called “stitchers.” The chilling cruelty in her perspective—stamping approval on a bill that brands the reanimated as “less than human”—echoes the societal struggles many faces. I found this dichotomy between the two POVs masterfully done, although the vagueness of one viewpoint’s ending left me longing for more clarity.
Oliva’s writing style is engaging and thought-provoking; he skillfully blends elements of horror with philosophical inquiries about existence. The pacing is deliberate, allowing ample time for reflection while immersing the reader in the human experience. There were points where I felt a spine-tingling chill wash over me, particularly during moments when the humanity—or lack thereof—of the reanimated was thrown into stark contrast with that of the living.
Memorable lines resonate beyond the pages, like when “the man” reflects on the paradox of being alive yet entirely alone in his newfound existence. These moments echo long after reading, forcing you to confront your values and beliefs about life and death, identity, and what it means to be human. I found myself pondering the philosophical underpinning of the narrative: Why do we often assign our worth based on the devaluation of others?
In conclusion, Chicano Frankenstein is a gripping read for those who appreciate stories that challenge societal norms and provoke deep introspection. If you enjoy thought-provoking science fiction and are open to wrestling with existential queries wrapped in a beautifully written narrative, this book is for you. It’s a haunting tale that lingered in my mind long after I turned the last page—one that made me cherish the intricacies of memory and identity in this tumultuous journey we call life. So, grab your copy and step into a world where every life—and every memory—holds a weight all its own. Happy reading!