Not to spoil it for anyone who plans to read it but there’s more than a nod to Frankenstein and his monster here. While trying to make up my mind where it belonged I thought I’d check out other reviews several of which seemed to be on SF sites. Truth be told, if I had known that before I would probably not have chosen to review the book as it’s not a genre I’m drawn to – I read Iain Banks but not Iain M. Banks. That would have been a shame. It’s an interesting novel that asks serious questions about what makes us human – are our essential selves made up of our conscious memories, thoughts and feelings or are we incomplete without our bodies? It’s also gripping as well as being erudite: lots of literary allusions, a Samuel Johnson expert as a narrator and a nasty conspiracy based on nineteenth century Russian philosopher Nikolai Fedorov’s teachings on universal resurrection and the resuscitation of the dead. There’s a reasonable helping of black humour in there, too. All in all an excellent read. Must get out of my comfort zone more.