Dana Schwartz’s Anatomy: A Love Story follows seventeen-year-old Hazel Sinnett as she grapples with societal constraints and love. As a woman in the early 19th century, it’s not easy. She wants to be a surgeon, but the most she can do is dissect frogs in the secrecy of her childhood bedroom, stitch up her cook’s arm in the boiling kitchen, and passively watch as a man gets his molar removed—by an arrogant male surgeon, of course. These are small victories, but not enough for Sinnett. She’s dying for knowledge and experience.
This trope, of the strong, independent woman, is certainly a good one, but it can easily become cliché, as is the unfortunate case here. Sinnett, for example, describes the London season in vague, stereotypical fashion. It’s a time when all the girls pretend to be “fragile porcelain [ladies]” just to secure a man: all the girls except Sinnett. Never Sinnett; she would never stoop that low! Instead, she would insult the women, fellow victims of this 19th century social construct, rather than critique the construct itself. In Gen-Z language, it’s giving “pick me girl” vibes. This is especially true given that Hazel Sinnett is an upper-class girl who lives in a castle with all the comforts she could ever want. Before she decided to dissect frogs, she probably never worked a day in her life. After all, the Cook features in the very first chapter, as do delectable lemon tarts ready at the drop of a hat.
After Sinnett’s betrothed, one Lord Bernard Almont, refuses to escort Sinnett to a presentation, she has no choice but to take matters into her own hands. She sneaks in herself … or tries to. It is then she meets Jack Currer: a low-born resurrectionist also trying to enter the esteemed Royal Edinburgh Anatomists’ Society. Currer and Sinnett slowly get to know each other through their shared profession: Sinnett, the would-be surgeon, and Currer, the grave-robber. Sinnett, when preparing for her medical exam, even asks Currer for bodies: truly romantic. Evidently, it’s a slow romance between the two and not without its ups and downs. In fact, the love that features most prominently in this novel is that between Sinnett and her surgery, so if you picked this up thinking “Yay romance!,” you might want to think again. ***Spoiler: In the end, Currer decides he cannot love Sinnett because he doesn’t want to tarnish her high socioeconomic status. This is similar to the doomed love story between Sydney Carton and Lucie Manette in Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities, just less masterfully executed.
Schwartz’s settings are one redeemable feature of the novel and the reason why I chose to read in the first place. Anatomy: A Love Story begins with Davey and his partner digging up a woman’s grave. It’s a dark, eerie setting that’s reminiscent of Charles Dickens’ Jerry Cruncher in A Tale of Two Cities: the OG grave digger. The story then transitions to a warm kitchen with onions, Sinnett’s beautiful castle, and then, from there, the novel takes place on the streets, in carriages, and other fun places. The array of setting, and pace of transition, is well done.
Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for the novel’s sophistication. It seems an original story, but very obviously takes its inspiration from Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. For one, Sinnett’s younger brother’s name is Percy, probably from Mary Shelley’s husband, Percy Shelley. For another, Sinnett’s dead frog could easily be replaced with the dead monster; the descriptions are that similar. In Frankenstein, the doctor uses electricity to reanimate the body parts. In Anatomy: A Love Story, Schwartz writes that Sinnett “would breach the world between life and death, using electricity to reanimate flesh.” During the Romantic period, animating flesh like this was known as galvanism. Lo and behold, the scientist Sinnett is known as ‘Galvini,’ and he’s from Switzerland, too: the birthplace of Frankenstein. In terms of deriving inspiration from the Romantics, Schwartz hits the nail a little too on the head, as to be sadly obvious.
Though it’s a tale as old as time not to judge a book by its cover, I did just that. Though I enjoyed (kind of) the slightly macabre story, it does read like its age level (seventh to ninth grade), it’s not as original as it boasts to be, and the details are either too abundant or too vague. This book would be enjoyed by those who’ve never read Frankenstein (as the premise would then seem original), those who like the ‘dark
academia vibe,’ and by those who enjoy a low-key romance. The heart is there; it’s just not executed well.
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