Numerology in Mademoiselle Frankenstein

When I set out to write Mademoiselle Frankenstein, I wasn’t just telling a new story—I was constructing it within the precise framework of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. There was lots of math involved! The number of chapters, the number of pages, and even the number of words per chapter all, for the most part, mirror Shelley’s original.

Why Did I Do This?

This meticulous adherence to Shelley’s numerical structure wasn’t just an exercise in constraint—it was an act of deep literary reverence and an exploration of the power of form. Here’s why it mattered:

·       A Hidden, Unspoken Connection – Even though Mademoiselle Frankenstein tells a different story, it maintains an invisible rhythm that mirrors Frankenstein. This creates a subconscious resonance, an underlying familiarity that readers might not immediately recognize but can feel.

·       Numerology and the Power of Structure – Numbers hold symbolic weight, and Gothic literature has always played with the mystical, the fated, and the inevitable. By adhering to the same numerical framework, I was tapping into an unseen order—one that governed Shelley’s novel and now governs mine.

·       The Challenge of Constraint – Creativity often flourishes within limits. Writing within a fixed structure forced me to refine my storytelling, making every chapter and word choice deliberate. Rather than a restriction, it became a guiding principle, pushing me toward precision and intention in my prose.

·       Echoing the Past While Telling a New Story – Much like the Creature itself, built from remnants of the past, my novel is stitched together from Shelley’s structure while being entirely its own. The bones of Frankenstein remain, but the heart and soul of Mademoiselle Frankenstein beat to a different rhythm.

Are There Other Books Retold Like This?

 Few retellings that I know of go to this level of structural mirroring, but there are notable examples of novels that engage in similar intricate homage:

• Jean Rhys’s Wide Sargasso Sea – A prequel to Jane Eyre, it doesn’t strictly mirror the structure but carefully inhabits the world and reframes it from a different perspective.

• Michael Cunningham’s The Hours – A modern response to Mrs. Dalloway, carefully structured to echo Virginia Woolf’s novel in its themes, pacing, and interwoven narratives.

• Joyce Carol Oates’s A Bloodsmoor Romance – A Gothic novel that borrows from 19th-century serial storytelling, echoing the structure and tone of earlier works while reshaping the narrative.

The Intricacies of This Approach

Writing within Frankenstein’s skeletal frame was both liberating and demanding. It meant that every plot development, every emotional beat, had to fit within a structure not of my own making. However, within those constraints, I discovered immense creative freedom. Forcing the story to exist within certain limits made me more inventive in shaping the world of the book.

Readers who are deeply familiar with Frankenstein may sense the echoes and the careful alignment of pacing and progression. Or they may feel an uncanny familiarity, though they aren’t sure why.

In the end, Mademoiselle Frankenstein is both a reflection of Frankenstein and an entirely new creation, much like the creature itself—a fusion of the past and the present, of homage and innovation.

Have you ever noticed hidden structures in books you’ve read? Do you enjoy retellings that mirror their originals in unexpected ways? Share your thoughts in the comments!