Mary Shelley: Frankenstein

• Paperback: 264 pages
• Publisher: Oxford University Press, USA; New Ed. / edition (October 15, 2008)
• Language: English
• ISBN-13: 978-0199537167

To many readers, who have perhaps known Frankenstein only at second hand, the original may well come as a surprise. When Mary Shelley began it, she was only 18, though she was already Shelley's mistress and Byron's friend. In her preface she explains how she and Shelley spent part of a wet summer with Byron in Switzerland, amusing themselves by reading and writing ghost stories. Her contribution was Frankenstein, a story about a student of natural philosophy who learns the secret of imparting life to a creature constructed from bones he has collected in charnel-houses. The story is not a study of the macabre, as such, but rather a study of how man uses his power, through science, to manipulate and pervert his own destiny, and this makes it a profoundly disturbing book.
 
I didn't end up reading the Barnes and Noble version of this one because I actually ended up reading it for a class and she wanted a specific edition. Also, the one my mother bought for me back home came with a movie and is therefore also a different edition. Just wanted to say that before I started.
 Here is another novel that was completely different from what I was expecting, having seen all the movie adaptations. Well, not all. The image of Boris Karloff is completely off the wall. Kenneth Branaugh's version is actually the closest in my opinion. But I digress. Shelley is terribly wordy and often focuses more on the scenery than is really necessary. I know she was trying to express the emotions which his connection with nature could instill in Victor Frankenstein as a naturalist, yet I still sometimes found my mind wandering during her long paragraphs about the Alps, etc. There was also a lot of anguish with not a lot of action. I'm going to go ahead and chalk that up to writing style. I was also surprised that the monster really never had a name. I had thought that at some point along the line people had just forgotten what it was, but no - it really is just "Frankenstein's Monster." Interesting for analysis, but beside the point for a book review.
 I will say that I did not feel the horror that this novel is supposed to instill until almost the very end when I contemplated the monster's many misdeeds and the terror of anticipation that Frankenstein must be experiencing. Regardless of what kind of creature was committing murder and wreaking havoc, the thought of a murderer constantly present and waiting at your door to kill either you or those you love is...horrible. And the most terrifying part of the whole thing. Unfortunately, Victor spent a lot of time falling into delirious illness, or just expounding upon his misery, so that kind of took away from the terror of it all. It's hard to be scared when you're barely aware.
 The book is definitely an interesting read, and the prose is often beautiful. If one can focus on actually reading the book without letting themselves get too wrapped up in Frankenstein's soliloquies, it's a great read. Several times I found myself wanting to quote Frankenstein on one of his rapturous rants. 
Overall: B
 I felt it could have been a lot better if it had been more to the point in many places. However, if you forget that you're reading a novel for a moment, it makes a great mini-travelogue of the places Shelley and her party visited.