Editorial Reviews
Review
This Modern Library edition includes a new Introduction by Wendy Steiner, the chair of the English department at the University of Pennsylvania and author of The Scandal of Pleasure.
Mary Shelley was born Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin in 1797 in London. She eloped to France with Shelley, whom she married in 1816. After Frankenstein, she wrote several novels, including Valperga and Falkner, and edited editions of the poetry of Shelley, who had died in 1822. Mary Shelley died in London in 1851.
About the Author
Maurice Hindle is Senior Faculty Manager in Arts at London’s Open University, where he also teaches literature. In addition to Frankenstein, he has edited Caleb Williams and Dracula for Penguin Classics.
Coralie Bickford-Smith is an award-winning designer at Penguin Books (U.K.), where she has created several highly acclaimed series designs. She studied typography at Reading University and lives in London.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
I am by birth a Genevese; and my family is one of the most distinguished of that republic. My ancestors had been for many years counsellors and syndics; and my father had filled several public situations with honour and reputation. He was respected by all who knew him for his integrity and indefatigable attention to public business. He passed his younger days perpetually occupied by the affairs of his country; a variety of circumstances had prevented his marrying early, nor was it until the decline of life that he became a husband and the father of a family.
As the circumstances of his marriage illustrate his character, I cannot refrain from relating them. One of his most intimate friends was a merchant, who, from a flourishing state, fell, through numerous mischances, into poverty. This man, whose name was Beaufort, was of a proud and unbending disposition, and could not bear to live in poverty and oblivion in the same country where he had formerly been distinguished for his rank and magnificence. Having paid his debts, therefore, in the most honourable manner, he retreated with his daughter to the town of Lucerne, where he lived unknown and in wretchedness. My father loved Beaufort with the truest friendship, and was deeply grieved by his retreat in these unfortunate circumstances. He bitterly deplored the false pride which led his friend to a conduct so little worthy of the affection that united them. He lost no time in endeavouring to seek him out, with the hope of persuading him to begin the world again through his credit and assistance.
Beaufort had taken effectual measures to conceal himself; and it was ten months before my father discovered his abode. Overjoyed at this discovery, he hastened to the house, which was situated in a mean street, near the Reuss. But when he entered, misery and despair alone welcomed him. Beaufort had saved but a very small sum of money from the wreck of his fortunes; but it was sufficient to provide him with sustenance for some months, and in the meantime he hoped to procure some respectable employment in a merchant’s house. The interval was, consequently, spent in inaction; his grief only became more deep and rankling when he had leisure for reflection; and at length it took so fast hold of his mind that at the end of three months he lay on a bed of sickness, incapable of any exertion.
His daughter attended him with the greatest tenderness; but she saw with despair that their little fund was rapidly decreasing, and that there was no other prospect of support. But Caroline Beaufort possessed a mind of an uncommon mould; and her courage rose to support her in her adversity. She procured plain work; she plaited straw; and by various means contrived to earn a pittance scarcely sufficient to support life.
Several months passed in this manner. Her father grew worse; her time was more entirely occupied in attending him; her means of subsistence decreased; and in the tenth month her father died in her arms, leaving her an orphan and a beggar. This last blow overcame her; and she knelt by Beaufort’s coffin, weeping bitterly, when my father entered the chamber. He came like a protecting spirit to the poor girl, who committed herself to his care; and after the interment of his friend, he conducted her to Geneva, and placed her under the protection of a relation. Two years after this event Caroline became his wife.
There was a considerable difference between the ages of my parents, but this circumstance seemed to unite them only closer in bonds of devoted affection. There was a sense of justice in my father’s upright mind, which rendered it necessary that he should approve highly to love strongly. Perhaps during former years he had suffered from the late discovered unworthiness of one beloved, and so was disposed to set a greater value on tried worth. There was a show of gratitude and worship in his attachment to my mother, differing wholly from the doating fondness of age, for it was inspired by reverence for her virtues, and a desire to be the means of, in some degree, recompensing her for the sorrows she had endured, but which gave inexpressible grace to his behaviour to her. Everything was made to yield to her wishes and her convenience. He strove to shelter her, as a fair exotic is sheltered by the gardener, from every rougher wind, and to surround her with all that could tend to excite pleasurable emotion in her soft and benevolent mind. Her health, and even the tranquillity of her hitherto constant spirit, had been shaken by what she had gone through. During the two years that had elapsed previous to their marriage my father had gradually relinquished all his public functions; and immediately after their union they sought the pleasant climate of italy, and the change of scene and interest attendant on a tour through that land of wonders, as a restorative for her weakened frame.
From Italy they visted Germany and France. I, their eldest child, was born in Naples, and as an infant accompanied them in their rambles. I remained for several years their only child. Much as they were attached to each other, they seemed to draw inexhaustible stores of affection from a very mine of love to bestow them upon me. My mother’s tender caresses, and my father’s smile of benevolent pleasure while regarding me, are my first recollections. I was their plaything and their idol, and something better—their child, the innocent and helpless creature bestowed on them by Heaven, whom to bring up to good, and whose future lot it was in their hands to direct to happiness or misery, according as they fulfilled their duties towards me. With this deep consciousness of what they owed towards the being to which they had given life, added to the active spirit of tenderness that animated both, it may be imagined that while during every hour of my infant life I received a lesson of patience, of charity, and of self control, I was so guided by a silken cord that all seemed but one train of enjoyment to me.
For a long time I was their only care. My mother had much desired to have a daughter, but I continued their single offspring. When I was about five years old, while making an excursion beyond the frontiers of Italy, they passed a week on the shores of the Lake of Como. Their benevolent disposition often made them enter the cottages of the poor. This, to my mother, was more than a duty; it was a necessity, a passion—remembering what she had suffered, and how she had been relieved—for her to act in her turn the guardian angel to the afflicted. During one of their walks a poor cot in the foldings of a vale attracted their notice as being singularly disconsolate, while the number of half-clothed children gathered about it spoke of penury in its worst shape. One day, when my father had gone by himself to Milan, my mother, accompanied by me, visited this abode. She found a peasant and his wife, hard working, bent down by care and labour, distributing a scanty meal to five hungry babes. Among these there was one which attracted my mother far above all the rest. She appeared of a different stock. The four others were dark eyed, hardy little vagrants; this child was thin, and very fair. Her hair was the brightest living gold, and, despite the poverty of her clothing, seemed to set a crown of distinction on her head. Her brow was clear and ample, her blue eyes cloudless, and her lips and the moulding of her face so expressive of sensibility and sweetness, that none could behold her without looking on her as of a distinct species, a being heaven-sent, and bearing a celestial stamp in all her features.
The peasant woman, perceiving that my mother fixed eyes of wonder and admiration on this lovely girl, eagerly communicated her history. She was not her child, but the daughter of a Milanese nobleman. Her mother was a German, and had died on giving her birth. The infant had been placed with these good people to nurse: they were better off then. They had not been long married, and their eldest child was but just born. The father of their charge was one of those Italians nursed in the memory of the antique glory of Italy—one among the schiavi ognor frementi, who exerted himself to obtain the liberty of his country. He became the victim of its weakness. Whether he had died, or still lingered in the dungeons of Austria, was not known. His property was confiscated, his child became an orphan and a beggar. She continued with her foster parents, and bloomed in their rude abode, fairer than a garden rose among dark-leaved brambles.
When my father returned from Milan, he found playing with me in the hall of our villa a child fairer than pictured cherub—a creature who seemed to shed radiance from her looks, and whose form and motions were lighter than the chamois of the hills. The apparition was soon explained. With his permission my mother prevailed on her rustic guardians to yield their charge to her. They were fond of the sweet orphan. Her presence had seemed a blessing to them; but it would be unfair to her to keep her in poverty and want, when Providence afforded her such powerful protection. They consulted their village priest, and the result was that Elizabeth Lavenza became the inmate of my parents’ house—my more than sister the beautiful and adored companion of all my occupations and my pleasures.
Every one loved Elizabeth. The passionate and almost reverential attachment with which all regarded her became, while I shared it, my pride and my delight. On the evening previous to her being brought to my home, my mother had said playfully—”I have a pretty present for my Victor—to-morrow he shall have it.” And when, on the morrow, she presented Elizabeth to me as her promised gift, I, with childish seriousness, interpreted her words literally, and looked upon Elizabeth as mine—mine to protect, love, and cherish. All praises bestowed on her, I received as made to a possession of my own. We called each other familiarly by the name of cousin. No word, no expression could body forth the kind of relation in which she stood to me—my more than sister, since till death she was to be mine only.
JohnW –
My daughter was upset because her copy was starting to fall apart. Told me she had to find a new copy, because it’s one of her favorite books. It’s a classic, and made her happy when she got the delivery.
Reinold F. –
Amazon groups reviews for the same story even when they are from different editions and in the case of Frankenstein the worst is that there are two similar but not identical versions. The first is the 1818 uncensored edition by e-artnow; the other is the AmazonClassics Edition, it doesn’t say which version it is but after reading it is clear to me that it’s the posterior 1823 edition. The 1818 edition is a bit more journalistic in the sense to show you the events and let you think your own conclusions, the 1823 edition is a bit more explicit in the moral judgment of the wretched Victor Frankenstein. But these differences are quite subtle… in my opinion it had been better if we just had the 1818 story, it’s perfect. Both editions has X-Ray, about the differences I can say:* AmazonClassics Edition (2 stars):In the positive side the formatting is modern and professional, you can easily see that you are reading a letter for example; the typography is clean allowing you to read with more comfort. In the negative side is evil the lengths that AmazonClassics attempt to hide dates, there is no year of publication, which is a sin considering there are the two different versions from different years; the malign editor even hides the date that is in the preface, sobbing his hands in the excitement to draw the readers into the pit of despair.* e-artnow edition (3 stars):In the positive side it contains the pure text, it’s a normal formatting, not excellent as the AmazonClassics but works, but it’s more useful as it informs you about the edition used. I read it fast along the AmazonClassic so I didn’t find errors but could not guarantee their non existence. In the negative side… I have no important observations, I don’t like the cover, the cinema version doesn’t correspond to the book.In conclusion although the AmazonClassics edition is comfortable sadly it seems there is an attempt to hide the mentioned years. I cannot recommend it. The e-artnow edition is good enough, less comfortable to read but still has X-Ray and the mentioned years as the author intended them are present.Taking aside the editorial aspect I loved a lot to read Frankenstein. Mary Shelley made, barely 20 years old, an awe-inspiring horror novel. In my opinion far more impacting than Stevenson’s “Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde,” with which it shares some characteristics. The creature, the creation of Victor Frankenstein, is human, he does terrible actions because he suffers, he has been abandoned by the man that donned life to him. Victor Frankenstein is the monster. Surrounded by persons that love him, even the creature could love him, he betrays them without compassion. He suffers but never for others but by the guilt of his lies being unleashed. Is crystalline that he only love physical beauty, Shelley is quite talented to make you feel like the witness of the mental struggle and physical stress of a dark hearted man.If there is something that reveal both the youth of Mary Shelly and her culture devoid of life experience is the fact that her characters triumph or fail through the study of books rather than from work, knowledge and reality. I felt Europe quite small too, it seemed like either the each of the characters bought the seven-league boots or that Europe is as big as a thematic park. But these are minor details for a classic whose reading at least once could enrich you.
Noonski –
First, a note about the cover of the Penguin Classic Deluxe Edition: I’ve noticed in several other reviews of various books in this series that readers have negatively commented on the “cartoonish” like covers. Personally, I happen to like most of the covers in the Classic Deluxe series because they are bright and fun. Sure, it is nice to own a nice edition of a favorite classic. Yet, I don’t see the harm in the fun covers — there’s no rule that says that because something is a classic that it has to be bound with a stodgy, serious cover. Maybe the comic-like covers will catch someone’s interest, someone who might not normally read a book. Getting someone to read a book is the most important thing, right?In the introduction to this particular edition, author Elizabeth Kostova (who wrote a modern take on the Dracula story: “The Historian”), says that she picked up the book to reread, to refresh her memory, and as she was reading it she realized that she wasn’t rereading it at all. She’d never read it. She realized that she knew the myth of Frankenstein, the Hollywood version, the Halloween version, the bolt through the neck version. What she knew (or thought she knew) had come from pop culture.I knew that I had never read Frankenstein. It was always on my ‘to read …sometime” list. I couldn’t pass up the cover, so I bought the book. Like Ms Kostova, I felt that I knew the story of Frankenstein and his monster. Growing up in the 1970s, with all the weekend and late-night sci-fi/horror movies, I’d seen the old Bela Lugosi version, and many of the various other old black-and-white retellings. And lets not forget the Mel Brooks adaptation (which I was fairly certain had little to do with Shelley’s novel).When I sat down to read the book, I was drawn into the tale by the letters of Captain R. Walton, who is on an expedition to find his way through the icy waters of the north. Walton catches a glimpse of the monster, and not long afterwards rescues Victor Frankenstein from the icy water.The book is broken into three parts: Part One is mostly told via letters from Walton to his sister; Part Two is Victor Frankenstein’s narrative for the first part, then the monster’s narrative for the second half. Part Three takes up the story with Frankenstein again, ending with a few letters from Walton.There are several more detailed summaries of the plot, so I won’t go into much detail. However, there are a few things that I think are important to know (they are, in a slight way, spoilers — but, I promise not to give any of the major points away).The book is quite noticeably different from the Hollywood myth that most of us grew up learning. There’s no scene where Frankenstein is in a tower awaiting lightening, there’s no evil madness to him — he looks at making a creature as a scientific enquiry, rather than anything with evil intentions. There is no Ygor/Igor. There’s no little girl who hands the monster a flower. And, most astonishing: the monster speaks — eloquently.There are several gaps, parts where the reader just has to let the story unfold without pausing to think to rationally about it (the lack of detail on how the monster was created, the way the monster was educated and learned to speak and read, etc.) Don’t get caught up in trying to accept the logic — it’s not there. Just follow the tale, don’t think too deeply about how the monster learned so much from watching a family. Just go with it. The gaps aren’t really that important.What is important is that our pop culture has distorted the story so much that when one hears the word “Frankenstein” one thinks of the monster, not the doctor. In the novel, the monster is never given a name – he is simply referred to as monster, daemon, creature, horror. And, our pop culture version of the story has taken away the deep philosophical aspects of the novel. And, we’ve learned that the creature is the ‘bad guy’, but, there’s much to be said about Victor Frankenstein – most of it not nice. In many ways, he is the ‘bad guy’ of the story. He’s so intent on bringing a creature to life that when he does and sees how ugly and horrid the creature is, he immediately abandons it, leaving the monster to fend for himself. Frankenstein is relieved that the monster disappeared and barely gives him much thought until tragedy strikes the Frankenstein home. Two years have passed and monster and creator finally meet, and the monster speaks what I find to be one of the saddest things I’ve read. Frankenstein is angry at what his monster had done, and wants to kill him. In reply: “‘I expected this reception,’ said the daemon. ‘All men hate the wretched; how, then, must I be hated, who am miserable beyond all living things! … Remember that I am your creature; I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel, whom thou drivest from joy for no misdeed. Everywhere I see bliss, from which I alone am irrevocably excluded. I was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend.”The monster believes that if Victor will make him a wife, he will have someone to share his misery and torment with — they will be bound by their both being outcasts. Frankenstein first agrees to create a bride, but then realizes he cannot do so, for he might make more evil creatures.What is most interesting to me is that the Doctor is really a whiny, narcissistic man; he made the creature, and ran off immediately afterwards, abandoning the monster. When the monster does some bad things, Frankenstein takes no responsibility — he never thinks “maybe if I stayed and taught him what it was like to be human, he might have had a chance.” Instead, he let the monster loose in the world, and because of the creatures size and hideous features, he’s attacked and chased off everywhere he goes. He doesn’t learn about life from a benevolent creator — he learns about life from the flawed humans that inhabit the earth. But Frankenstein moans and groans about how tragic his life has become because of the monster without every really acknowledging his own lack of responsibility. In a way, part of the idea of the creature’s character comes down to the old Nature versus Nurture argument. In this case there was no nurture — he only had the horrified reactions of people to learn from. As the monster says “All men hate the wretched.”I was surprised to find that I disliked the Doctor so much. While I can’t say that I found the murderous monster lovable, there was certainly something very sympathetic about him. Frankenstein spends pages lamenting the misery of his life, yet it is a ‘woe is me’ type of lament. The creature seems more philosophical about his wretched existence and suffering — the monster isn’t about a bit of whining and lamenting, but he seems to have learned things about life that Frankenstein (the supposedly more educated one) fails to grasp.There are a few flaws in the tale — I’ve mentioned some above (i.e. how the monster learns to read and write). But there are some technical flaws as well — it’s difficult to keep track of how much time has passed. Sometimes it seems very long, until it’s mentioned only a few months have passed. Other times, years have passed with barely a mention. Frankenstein was a young man, in his mid-twenties when he created the monster, though it was tough to tell how old he was at the end. Stylistically, the novel is by turns engrossing, followed by a several pages that seem to drag on and on, making the pacing of the novel feel uneven. Yet, in spite of these small flaws, the story is much deeper in meaning, more philosophical in nature than I expected. It’s a novel that could lead to good conversations about the nature of good and evil, about who was the real monster of the story, and did Doctor or monster learn anything of value along the way.Most importantly, the legend of Frankenstein in our culture is one of horror — it’s often called a horror novel. But, it really isn’t. There is a bit of violence, though not graphic at all. Mostly, it’s a meditation on good and evil, life and death, and what we should or shouldn’t do if we have the power to do something. The story just happens to have a monster as one of the main characters. It’s not a story that would give you bad dreams, or make you feel fearful if you were home alone.I’m glad the comic-book cover captured my attention, and that I got around to reading the story sooner rather than later. I think it is a story that will keep me thinking for some time to come. I highly recommend the story (in whatever edition fits your budget or catches your fancy.) I give the story 4.5/5 stars.
Miran –
Mary Shelley’s timeless classic, Frankenstein, stands as a haunting testament to the human pursuit of knowledge and the consequences that accompany unchecked ambition. With its gripping narrative and profound exploration of moral and existential themes, this Gothic masterpiece continues to captivate readers even two centuries after its initial publication.Set against the backdrop of a gloomy and desolate landscape, the story follows Victor Frankenstein, a young and ambitious scientist consumed by his desire to conquer death and unlock the secrets of life itself. Driven by his insatiable thirst for knowledge, Victor embarks on a perilous journey that leads him to create a being out of stolen body parts. Yet, this act of creation soon turns into a nightmare, as the creature awakens with a bewildered consciousness, abandoned by its creator and left to navigate a hostile world alone.Shelley skillfully delves into the complex psyches of both Victor and his creature, exploring their parallel narratives and the consequences of their actions. Through Victor’s internal struggle with guilt and remorse, Shelley exposes the moral ambiguity inherent in human nature, forcing readers to question the ethical implications of scientific advancement. The creature, often portrayed as a monster, is paradoxically both sympathetic and terrifying—a tortured soul seeking acceptance and love in a world that rejects him based on his outward appearance.The novel’s narrative structure, presented through a series of letters and firsthand accounts, enhances the sense of impending doom and creates a chilling atmosphere of suspense. Shelley’s evocative prose paints vivid images, immersing the reader in a world of darkness and despair. Her exploration of the themes of abandonment, revenge, and the nature of humanity provokes profound introspection and challenges the boundaries of empathy.Frankenstein stands as a cautionary tale, cautioning against the dangers of unchecked scientific progress and the moral responsibility that accompanies human creation. It serves as a timeless reminder that knowledge without wisdom and compassion can lead to disastrous consequences.In conclusion, Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein is a remarkable work of literature that continues to resonate with readers today. Its exploration of human ambition, the moral implications of scientific advancement, and the search for identity and acceptance makes it a thought-provoking and unsettling read. With its beautifully crafted narrative and complex characters, Frankenstein remains a masterpiece that forces us to confront our own humanity and the ethical dilemmas that arise when playing with the forces of life and death.
Israel Drazin –
Readers will be surprised to read this nineteenth century “horror story,” because the English woman Mary W. Shelley (1797-1851) did not write this book as it is shown in the many motion pictures that were made of it. She published this gothic tale, which many scholars see as the earliest version of a science fiction novel when she was only 21. Scholars think that she wrote it as an attack against the emerging industrial revolution, but perhaps, as we will see, it is more than that. The story is written in the delightful style of its time, like the mystery tale of the Englishman Wilke Collins, which was serialized in 1859-1860 and published in 1860, The Woman in White, which some scholars say is the first detective story, while others give the honor to Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849).Mary Shelley became the wife of the famous poet Percy Shelley after writing her novel. She subtitled it The Modern Prometheus. According to some but not all Greek myths, Prometheus was a giant who created people and latter brought them fire. It appears that the Prometheus in the tale is the creator Frankenstein, who was not a giant in height, but in intellect. Most people consider Prometheus a hero, but not Shelley. She thought of fire as being bad because it caused people to kill and eat animals and gave people more implements with which to wage war and murder people. Frankenstein tells the story to a man who saved him while he is pursuing the man he created. He warns the man not to pursue scientific goals that will harm humanity. The Shelley story is about an educated man of science who was born in Switzerland and educated in a German university, who is interested in helping people. Everyone who meets him likes him. He comes from an educated amicable family who love him, and he loves them. He searches for an answer to what is life. He wonders if he can create life, and succeeds in doing so. He creates an eight-foot man, who is never named in the novel. He is repulsed by the man he creates and thinks of him as a monster as soon as the man is alive. All people who later see his creation are also repulsed and this causes the man to hide and live alone and it accounts for the profound loneliness that the man feels. His creator becomes depressed at what he has done, rushes away from his lab, and is sick in bed for four months. He is Frankenstein. The unnamed man he created leaves. Frankenstein returns home from Germany and discovers that someone killed his younger brother. He is convinced that the man he created did it, and pursues him to kill him. He meets his creation and is unable to harm him because the man is larger and stronger than he. His creation tells Frankenstein that he killed his brother by mistake. The boy saw him, was disgusted at seeing him, and started shouting. All he did was place his hand over the boy’s mouth. He tells how he has been traveling about for more than a year, found that every human despises him, and has become very lonely. He begs Frankenstein to make him a female companion because he, like the biblical Adam, can’t live alone. Frankenstein agrees. However, when he finishes making the female he becomes frightened that two monsters, as he thinks of them, could harm mankind. So he destroys the female. The man he created is enraged and vows vengeance against Frankenstein for destroying his life. What happens to Frankenstein and the man he created, I will leave for readers to read and enjoy. Will the creation carry out his threat? If yes, how? Which of the two will outlive the other? What will the survivor do? Is it right to call Frankenstein’s creation a monster because of the way he looks? Readers may also want to ask themselves: is Mary Shelly’s pessimistic approach to scientific advances justified? Perhaps there is another interpretation of the story. It may be an examination with comments upon the creation of man. The first biblical creation Adam is unnamed, like Frankenstein’s creation. Although most people think his name is Adam, the Hebrew word adam actually means “human.” There is an ancient Jewish legend that when God decided to create this adam, the angels objected that people were not sufficiently good. This parallels the rejection of Frankenstein’s creation by society. Like Frankenstein’s creation, the adam was also lonely and wants a companion. Today, many people, like Frankenstein’s creation feel alienated and lonely, and live a life without meaning. This is something to think about.
Kit –
*Warning: This review contains SPOILERS.*I hated this book in high school and never imagined I’d reread it voluntarily, but here we are. And I actually didn’t hate it this time! Funny how these things work out, huh? I’ve read some articles about this book as well, and they talk about how this book is representative of everything from abandonment and isolation to dysfunctional father-son relationships to queerness, and honestly, if my English teacher had gone into more depth about that kind of stuff, I might have been more interested the first time around.Anyway, I definitely sympathized with the monster. He was so utterly and completely alone. He spent years literally alone, living in sheds and caves and out in the wilderness, on the outside of humanity looking in. He was abandoned and isolated and treated horribly by everyone. Even his own creator did nothing but insult and shun him. The poor guy didn’t even have a name, and that’s just really sad.But Victor… even though his actions were awful, I sometimes fell into the trap of wanting to sympathize with him too, even though I knew I shouldn’t, which I think is the sign of a well-written character. He made a mistake—a horrible mistake born of obsessive fervor and arrogance, but a mistake nonetheless. Haven’t you ever done something and then worried that someone would to find out or that something bad would come of it, even if it was just sneaking a cookie before dinner as a kid? Now imagine that feeling x100. And I can understand why he was hesitant to create another—he didn’t want to make the same mistake twice. So I think his feelings of despair and horror and guilt and grief made sense, if nothing else.The way I see it, neither character is entirely free from blame—the monster murdered innocents, and nothing can excuse that—but Victor never should have created the monster in the first place if he was going to abandon him. It was essentially like someone having a child and then neglecting them. Once the monster was alive, it was Victor’s responsibility to care for him, and he failed entirely at that. He was selfish. I think I could have forgiven the mistake of making the monster in the first place if Victor had just taken responsibility and cared for him. Probably all the bad things could’ve been avoided if he’d done that. The creation wasn’t “born” a monster; it was the way he was treated that made him a monster.Here’s another thought I had. Victor didn’t want to create a mate because he didn’t know if she’d turn out to be even more dangerous, right? But people have babies every day without knowing what they’ll be like when they grow up. Some people do become murderers. And the monster in the book only became one because he had no love or companionship. So by that logic, Victor probably should have just taken his chances and created a mate.This book also made me ponder about souls—did the monster have a soul?—and what it really means for a thing to have life, but I won’t get into that.But, as is the case with most of the classics I’ve read so far, the problem I had with this book was that it had so many words but so little meat. (Kind of like this review, to be honest. I don’t know how it got so long.) Everyone was so long-winded. There would be pages and pages about the despair a single character felt over a single thing that happened even though a couple short sentences could’ve expressed it just as well.Also, I was surprised to find the depictions I’ve seen of Frankenstein in art/movies/media (bolts in his neck, criss-cross stitches everywhere, usually greenish skin and a flat head, walks in a lurching way) isn’t at all how he was described in the book. No bolts, no stitches, no flat head. And he doesn’t lurch; he’s larger than the average human, but his limbs are in proportion, and he’s described as being agile and fast. The way I envision it (which is just my interpretation, not right or wrong), the reason he’s so horrifying isn’t because he’s so non-human but rather because he does look human, but… off. I like this artwork (link can found in my review on my blog or Goodreads) best of all the ones I’ve seen. He looks almost beautiful, but he’s just kind of tipped the scales into creepy and unnatural.So, overall, I enjoyed this more than I thought I would. The writing was long-winded, but the story itself was thought-provoking.*The edition I read is the Kaplan SAT one. I’m not aware if there are any differences among different editions (other than the fact that mine had a bunch of SAT words with definitions).**I’ve read this book multiple times. This review was written after my 2nd read.*Rating: 3 StarsOriginal Review @ Metaphors and Moonlight (link in profile)
Michael R –
Bought at daughter’s request and she is enjoying this classic. Book was in perfect condition and lightweight. Getting ready for Halloween.
Consuelo Macias –
Uso escolar, tamaño perfecto y comodo.
Joe Karpierz –
2018 marks the 200th anniversary of the publication of Mary Shelley’s FRANKENSTEIN; OR, THE MODERN PROMETHEUS. While I did not read – or in this case listen to – the novel because of the anniversary, it does seem appropriate that I picked this time to read what is generally considered the first true science fiction novel. I would imagine that most people, myself included, first encountered FRANKENSTEIN as the 1931 movie of the same name, which is somewhat based on the novel. As we know, the movie recounts the story of a scientist who, along with his assistant, piece together a human-like creature from the pieces of dug up corpses. Most infamously, Henry Frankenstein’s assistant Fritz acquires the brain of a criminal for the Creature (played by Boris Karloff), thus lending the story the conflict it needs when the Creature comes alive and begins wreaking havoc throughout the local countryside. There have been many movie and literary adaptations and spinoffs of the original FRANKENSTEIN. I am particularly fond, of course, of Mel Brooks’ movie Young Frankenstein, in which Peter Boyle portrays the Creature. I’m also fond of Michael Bishop’s 1994 novel BRITTLE INNINGS, which links the FRANKENSTEIN story and baseball.It probably would surprise no one who has only seen the movie that it bears only a small resemblance to Shelley’s novel.Shelley’s novel is told as a framing narrative. The story starts out recounting the correspondence between Robert Walton and his sister Margaret. Walton is traveling to the North Pole to gain scientific knowledge. While on the journey, he and his crew first spot a dog sled driven by a large man, then rescue a man who is near death. The man is Victor Frankenstein, who has been pursuing the man in the dog sled. As Walton nurses Frankenstein back to health, they become friends. Walton shares his story of intense desire for scientific knowledge. Frankenstein, seeing much of himself in Walton, recounts the story of how he arrived on Walton’s boat and why Walton should think twice about his intense thirst for knowledge.The framing narrative becomes layered as Frankenstein first recounts his story of becoming obsessed with scientific knowledge, and especially that of how to bring life to an inanimate being. He almost quite literally becomes the “mad scientist”, spending all his time researching the subject and then, once he discovers the actual process to bring a creature to life, doing nothing but what it takes to make it happen. He rarely eats and sleeps, and his relationship with his family deteriorates to almost nothing. He does finally bring the Creature to life, but once he sees it he is appalled and disgusted with what he has done, and he aims to destroy it.Next comes the Creature’s story as told by the Creature itself, which takes up the bulk of the novel. Unlike Karloff’s portrayal of the Creature, the novel shows the Creature learning about himself, learning about language – to the point where he becomes erudite to the point of sounding as if he had what we might call a college education – and learning how and why he is shunned by the rest of humanity. He then realizes that he is what he is because of Frankenstein (resulting in what would be a fascinating study of the nature versus nurture – or in this case, lack of nurture – discussion) and vows to deprive Victor of happiness much like Victor has deprived him of happiness. Eventually the narrative returns to Frankenstein’s story and eventually Walton’s, culminating with Walton meeting the Creature itself.It was somewhat surprising to me how short the novel actually is. As readers we have been trained to expect complex stories like this to be at least double the length. And while there is much detail that could be discussed – and I refuse to be concerned about spoiling a story that is over 200 years old at this point – I will stop here and let those who have yet to read the novel go ahead and do so without giving it all away.I was pleasantly surprised by FRANKENSTEIN. I guess I’ve been conditioned by the movie, which I’ve seen several times, to expect one thing while the novel turned out to be entirely something else. While the name Frankenstein usually is used to refer to the Creature, it’s pretty clear that the real villain of the novel is Victor himself. His hubris in creating life from where there is none – and at the time FRANKENSTEIN was written the implication was that Victor was stepping where only God was meant to tread – resulted in a Creature who quite understandably was ticked off at his situation and who also quite understandably blamed the only person he knew to be responsible for his plight. The Creature was shown to be a compassionate being, and one who gave Frankenstein every opportunity to shut down the violence and death that was occurring around him. Yet,Victor chose to let it continue, and indeed brought so much suffering upon himself by his actions the reader might be tempted to believe that he is the Wretch (as the Creature is sometimes called) and not the Creature itself.Jim Donaldson provided an adequate narration of the novel. As I listened to the book, I felt that his voice and tone were perfect for the gothic nature of the story. His gravelly-voiced rendition of the Creature could not have been easy for him to do; at the same time, I was taken out of the story by his portrayal of the Creature. He sounded like a crotchety old man, which does not fit with my image of the Creature. That could be due to me being influenced by Karloff’s rendition of the Creature, although his gutteral roars do sound like an old man too, I suppose.If you’ve never read the book, I suggest you do so. It’s interesting to contrast the novel and the movie, and of course that’s something we do with today’s movies anyway – from Lord of the Rings to Hunger Games to anything else. I can see why this is considered a classic, and it’s well worth the time for you to read it for yourself and, hopefully, come to the same conclusion.
Clavon –
Came as expected