So, coming off of binging “Penny Dreadful”, Netflix suggested “The Frankenstein Chronicles” and being the 10-year-old who fell in love with that book and story, I decided to watch it. 

Mary Shelly is a character. She’s reached acclaim for her book.

“I wonder at your purpose here, Mr. Marlott. People like myself and Mr. Blake create things which are strange and uncanny, where men often find themselves reflected. Sometimes people like yourselves mistakenly come to us when strange and uncanny things happen to them, rather than looking in the mirror and facing what is weird and uncanny in themselves.”

She faces the prospect of her book “inspiring” a string of murders and flees the country. 

Ada freaking Lovelace appears in a few episodes before being put on the back burner. 

This show has an unreliable narrator stuck in a cycle of grief and trauma, but something about it feels off for me.

It has a “Three Musketeers” vibe in the second season with political and religious conspiracies. 

Not to mention the rich LITERALLY trying to force poor people off their land so it can be leveled and remade for the rich. (By poisoning their water supply intentionally and giving them the plague.) The rich trying to pass a law that would allow them to use the poor’s bodies after death for medical dissection and study. 

Charles Dickens is a character: a journalist using his pen name Boz.

There’s a bit of the supernatural or magical realism infused into it well.

The Frankenstein Chronicles had so much promise on the premises it introduced but then disrespected them.

It fridged (I think I’m using this correctly) multiple women for the main character’s motivation. 

There were so many middle-aged to old white men I lost track and got confused.