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snapped Cornish.
    â€˜No, but —’
    â€˜I suggest you contain your opinions until you’ve read the actual words.’ Cornish slammed his book down on Angus’s table. ‘Mary Shelley’s masterpiece is a story that has permeated our world. It is impossible to come to it without some preconception of what it’s going to be about, but even a book that has been written can change. What do I mean by that? Anyone?’
    â€˜You mean when the author redrafts it?’ said someone at the back.
    â€˜No. I’m talking about how it changes when we read it. Words come to life under our scrutiny. That spark which Frankenstein uses to bring his monster to life is there at the moment a reader connects with a book.’
    â€˜The words don’t change, though, do they?’ said a boy called Jamie.
    â€˜Not the words but the world around them.
That
changes, and it is down to you to ensure it changes for the better, and not to accept your lot. I’m talking about fate. What do I mean by fate, Eddie?’
    â€˜Er, it’s how things are going to happen in a certain way, no matter what you do,’ I said.
    â€˜And do you believe in fate, Eddie?’
    â€˜I suppose so,’ I said. ‘I mean, I think some things are meant to be.’ I realised I was staring at Scarlett and quickly looked away.
    â€˜So you aren’t in control of your life, Eddie?’ Cornish asked. I was unsure why this was becoming all about me, and why he sounded so angry about it.
    â€˜Perhaps Eddie means that there is a natural and correct course of events,’ said Scarlett.
    Cornish spun around on his heel and glared at her, then said, ‘Who decides this natural course of events? Who controls our fates? Those with money. Those with power. It’s always the rich. The idea of fate is a tool of repression. The powerful have always preached to those with nothing that they must accept their lives and that there is nothing they can do about their situations. This is wrong. We should be the masters of our own stories.’
    â€˜Are we still talking about
Frankenstein
?’ asked Angus.
    â€˜Yes, we are still talking about
Frankenstein
.’
    â€˜So it’s about fate, is it?’ asked someone else.
    â€˜About fate? Come on, comrades, we’re better than this. You can’t reduce a book to one word. This is a book about love; that is a book about fate; this one is about kittens. Would you do that to a person? What are you about? Books are about every single word they contain.’
    We were used to Mr Cornish getting het up but he did seem angrier than usual today. ‘Next week, as well as wasting your lives with zombie-killing computer games and trivial television shows, I would like you to read this book yourselves.’
    A groan went up from the class. ‘The whole thing?’ someone shouted.
    â€˜Yes,
read
. I realise this is revolutionary concept but perhaps that’s what the world needs. Like it or not, you lot are going to inherit a world in which the progression of science will need to be questioned and challenged. And as you read these words, I want you to count how many times you find yourself hoping that Victor Frankenstein will do the right thing and not create the monster.’
    â€˜But we already know he will,’ said Angus.
    â€˜And yet it is in our nature to empathise and hope that Victor Frankenstein changes course.’
    â€˜I disagree,’ said Scarlett. ‘I think we want him to make the monster.’
    â€˜Why would you want that?’ demanded Cornish.
    â€˜Because it makes a good story,’ she replied, ‘and we know it’s not real.’
    â€˜The idea of scientists dabbling in things they should leave well alone is real enough,’ said Mr Cornish.
    â€˜How about playing God?’ asked Scarlett.
    â€˜We are all gods,’ hissed Cornish. ‘Anyone who creates, anyone who lives and breathes. The