Sunlight-Colored Roses

If I ever become an English professor, one of my first tasks will be to refocus literature, especially fantasy literature, to the great early novels.

I don’t understand why The Last Man lies in obscurity. It’s a compelling novel I can’t stop reading. It invents science fiction fantasy. It’s so cinematic I could write the screenplay myself. To say I like it better than Frankenstein is an understatement.

I find myself thinking of Adrian and Lionel, Perdita, Idris, like fragments of Mary Shelley’s life in a mixed-up dream world.

It’s what I always wanted a futuristic novel to be.