I'M TOO SENSITIVE! Here is a man who really understands me and has written the book I always meant to write. But because that twisted hunchback of Dr. Frankenstein's stole me a madman's brain, I've not been able to concentrate, to write and express my soul. This is the pastoral story of myself and Count Dracula and The Wolf Man, our naive times in Europe-cum-Hollywood, while King Kong broods in the balcony and nibbles peanuts. Oh, I'm still CHASED with torches in my new British series, but they don't really see my soul. These British hacks, I get so ENRAGED I could tear them LIMB FROM LIMB! KILL THEM! Hamlet of the damned, I am vindicated by this book. No doubt now, I am the celebrated monster of the century. The Japanese Godzilla, ha, mere technical effects. What does Godzilla know of style, Bela's accent paprika, my subtle heartstirrings, or of Dreyer's Vampyr or the soulful realism of Curse of the Cat People? I am going to kill Godzilla, that shrimp, that THOUSAND-TON PHONY! This book goes to the roots of horror, no shlock job. I am proud to append my name to this testimonial. (Signed) Mary Shelley, Authoress (Frankenstein).