It’s weird, it’s queer, and it’s finally here! OUR HIDEOUS PROGENY is my debut novel, a spiritual sequel to Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein and a love letter to women in science and the fascinating history of Victorian paleoart. A fantastic read: I felt everything about Mary, her simmering anger and her intellectual delight, so very clearly. FREYA MARSKE, author of THE LAST BINDING TRILOGY The novel deftly captures the essence of the original "Frankenstein," while delving into a far more rich exploration of themes such as the ethical boundaries of scientific pursuit, the intricate complexities of familial ties, the exploitation and brutality of nature, and the societal challenges faced by women in the Victorian era. Through Mary's character, McGill offers a potent depiction of a woman ahead of her time, fiercely determined to challenge the limitations imposed by societal norms and gender roles, even as she grapples with personal struggles and the weight of the loss of her child.

Our Hideous Progeny is a masterpiece of literary writing. The style makes me want to compare CE McGill to Charlotte Bronte - the words just flow so easily as if CE McGill could write a story in their sleep. Content warnings: misogyny (challenged), homophobia (challenged), sexual assault, murder, racism (challenged)

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Readers of science fiction will find this title a "ripping good yarn," but readers looking for something more substantial than entertainment will find in Our Hideous Progeny a wealth of ideas—and it's those readers who will, I think, most appreciate this title.

Nevertheless, the book is a superb debut. McGill sure has a sunny career ahead of them. I’m jealous of their talent.The addition of diverse characters, including queer characters and an individual coping with chronic illness, enriches the narrative tapestry, infusing it with contemporary relevance. Mary's complexity is accentuated by her sharp intellect and unapologetic nature, making her a compelling and relatable protagonist. The intricate relationships and interplay between the characters, particularly Mary and her volatile husband Henry, create a palpable tension that drives the narrative forward, making for an enthralling Victorian gothic novel that captures the essence of its source material while introducing fresh perspectives and poignant contemporary themes. The pacing of this novel did the story a huge disservice. While I enjoy a well done atmospheric ‘vibes over plot’ storyline, I still require thematic contemplation to occupy my mind. Almost 60% of this book was dedicated to simple day-to-day recounting. Various scientific presentations, diner parties, conversations occur to hound in the fact that the 19th century was deeply misogynistic and racist. I did not need that many chapters to explain to me why exactly Mary was so angry. Somehow, this book takes an enormous amount of elements (and three genres! This is a gothic victorian sci-fi!) and balances them perfectly. It's slow-moving, but deliciously so. Mary is a fabulously nuanced protagonist on a journey of grief, reflection, ambition and awakening, and the way McGill wrote her inner world had me scrambling for a highlighter. Maisie, Mary's sister-in-law and love interest is a really delightful character and, from my limited perspective, a refreshingly honest and sympathetic portrayal of someone who lives with chronic illness. Henry, Mary's husband, is one of the most frustrating characters I've come across in a while... but realistically so. I've met many a Henry and at no point did I question why Mary had been drawn to him in the first place, or why she's pulling away from him now.

The author’s writing prowess is, doubtlessly and indisputably Beluga caviar. The ease in which the author told a story fraught with ancient scientific fossilised animal bones and petticoat just felt like downing a cold beverage in a hot summer’s time. The queerness was a whisper yet enough to sustain the story and not overpower the main plot. And that there is the beauty of the author’s power. A gothic feminist retelling of Frankenstein with a sapphic romance? Yes, please! Unfortunately, I was bored to death. C.E. McGill's Our Hideous Progeny is a brilliant, necessary reworking of the Frankenstein trope. In it McGill explores and questions relationships across the gender binary and documents the ways that equivalent actions by men and women can be viewed in completely different (and damning) ways. Who suddenly has an epiphany one day. Who decides to look into Victor Frankenstein's work and research and when she discovers...Compelling and utterly absorbing... an artfully crafted debut' SUSAN STOKES-CHAPMAN, author of PANDORA In two aspects, though, I wished for a bit more from the novel: pacing and the creature. The tempo of the story is sometimes too slow, too steady, and I never understood the true nature of the creature. Is it dangerous? Gentle? A threat to society? Aside from a few glimpses of its behavior here and there, the creature itself is only a secondary character in the story when it should’ve played a larger role, it being the Frankenstein monster. So. This is supposed to be a queer feminist retelling of Mary Shelley's "Frankenstein". We follow Victor Frankenstein's great-niece, Mary, in 1853 London. Mary and her husband are struggling financially and professionally. But Mary believes that she has found something about her great-uncle's disappearance that can help them change the world of science. An immersive blend of historical and science fiction brims with surprises and dark delights. . . . An incisive exploration of women’s rights within the field of science. . . . Readers will revel in Mary’s personal and scientific discoveries and root for her to succeed in an unfair world.” — Publishers Weekly (starred review)

After these tragedies, Shelley developed an intense friendship with Jane Williams, the widow of a friend who had drowned with Percy. Recalling these years in a letter to a friend in 1835, Shelley confessed that, after Percy died, she was “ready to give myself away—and being afraid of men, I was apt to get tousy-mousy for women” (a reference to sex). In the travel book “Rambles in Germany and Italy’’ (1844), Shelley’s final published work, she wrote of the art she had encountered and argued that artists should not be condemned for depicting homosexual love—“a bold stance that was anathema to most Victorians,” Charlotte Gordon argues in “Romantic Outlaws,” her dual biography of Shelley and her mother, the writer and political activist Mary Wollstonecraft. Gordon describes the real-life Isabella Baxter and Mary Shelley as sharing a mutual admiration for Booth—feared by neighbors for his “prodigious store of arcane knowledge,” but also for his radical politics—and writes that Shelley encouraged Baxter to marry him after her sister’s death. In Eekhout’s novel, these events play out differently. But, in its philosophy, this fictional excavation of a lesser-known episode in Shelley’s life feels true to her memory. What a book this is. It's grand; it's sumptuous. It's horror and mystery, a literary thriller. Impeccably researched and elegantly written. I LOVED IT! One of my two fav. books so far this year... The tender relationship between Mary and Maisie is a joy to behold; the two of them growing because of each other, and able to shed the dead weight in their lives. Where Mary is obsessed with bringing her uncle's work to life, Maisie is the foil who sees through the glitter and the gold, into the almost barbaric truth of it. But, in the end, both of them see the beauty in creating a life; in giving something a life that it might not have had, even for a small amount of time.Like Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, Our Hideous Progeny is much more than an engaging bit of fiction. It probes and challenges the values of Mary's time in a way that makes readers ache for her and consider the limitations of our present world. The novel begins as a bit of a slow burn, but as it progresses it bursts into full flame—and I found myself racing through the final third of the novel, deeply invested in Mary's struggle and the arbitrary obstacles and disrespect that she encounters at every turn. Imagine Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein but with a feminist main character. This take on Frankenstein is not some fantastical “women were impervious to the 19th century patriarchal norm”, no, the author embraced that notion and introduced Mary Elizabeth, a character that showed the readers how she was ‘bloody but unbowed’ by the pressures societal standards and etiquette.