In Conversation

The Abdicating Creator: What You Make and What You Refuse to Claim

Featuring commentary from Charlotte Gordon and Megan Marshall

A man brings a life into the world and then refuses to answer for it. That single act, the creation disowned, sits at the center of both Frankenstein and The Scarlet Letter, and it is where the two novels speak to each other most directly. Charlotte Gordon, reading Mary Shelley's novel for Rebind Classics, makes Victor Frankenstein's abandonment of his creature the book's founding crime. Megan Marshall, reading Nathaniel Hawthorne's, finds a minister who will not claim his own child and a husband who poisons what he touches. The question both books press is the same: what does a maker owe the thing it makes?

This post is for paying subscribers only

Subscribe to continue reading

Read Deeper

Nature Gives the Rule


John Kaag's Thoreau lifts Kant's definition of genius and gives it to a Concord woodchopper. Paul Guyer's Kant has one condition Thoreau refuses: be understood.

Go deeper →

Paid In


Paul Guyer's Kant lets you hire a man if you pay him fairly. Garth Greenwell's Adam Verver pays the Prince perfectly and still does him a profound wrong.

Go deeper →

Prison and Cemetery


Margaret Atwood watches a revolution devour its makers in real time. Megan Marshall watches one win, settle, and build a prison and a graveyard first.

Go deeper →

I Couldn't Have Given You Up to Anyone Less


Sadie Stein weeps at Mr. Bennet's half-sentence goodbye. Garth Greenwell reads a whole novel about a father who can't say it, so the daughter must.

Go deeper →

The Scarlet D


Boston sewed Hester's A in cloth; New York pinned Ellen's D in whispers. Marshall and Gay show which mark a woman can work, and it isn't the polite one.

Go deeper →

How We Make Monsters: Charlotte Gordon on Frankenstein


Frankenstein is about what a creator owes his creation, Gordon argues — Victor's crime is not making the creature but abandoning it.

Go deeper →

The Price of Knowing: James, Wharton, and the Women Who See Everything


Maggie Verver and May Welland are the real intelligences of their novels. Greenwell and Gay part on what each does with knowledge: reconstruction or control.

Go deeper →

The Optimist's Trap: Voltaire and Marcus Aurelius Against Positive Thinking


Voltaire and Marcus Aurelius attack the same enemy: the optimism that turns your suffering into proof of your own inadequacy.

Go deeper →

What Does the A on Hester's Chest Actually Mean?


The A never holds still: adulteress at the scaffold, able and armor at the cottage, awe by the end — Marshall tracks a symbol its makers couldn't control.

Go deeper →

The Knitting and the Eagle: Nietzsche, Dickens, and the Morality of Vengeance


Madame Defarge's knitting is ressentiment made visible, Atwood and Martin show — legitimate rage metastasized into a register that cannot stop expanding.

Go deeper →

This Is My Way


Zarathustra's missing way and Thoreau's different drummer are the same demand, Martin and Kaag show: there is no ready-made path — only the one you make.

Go deeper →

Saying Yes to the Nick of Time


Thoreau's deliberate living and Nietzsche's amor fati are two disciplines with one target, Kaag and Martin show: the habit of living everywhere but now.

Go deeper →

Read with the Best

A literary publication for the self-taught reader. Where to start, which translation, why it matters — with editors who'll actually take a side.