This is what it feels like to be reading and writing about Mary Wollstonecraft. Yes, she is self-righteous. Yes, she embarrasses herself (and me) on several notorious occasions. But increasingly, I am finding her an inspiration. I love her bravery. I love her commitment to ideas and to fighting in the public and political arena. I love that she did not stop writing, even when people called her names. I wish she had not died in childbirth. But then we might never have gotten Frankenstein.