About The Book:

Pages: 260

Genre: Classic, Fiction, Horror

Format I read it in: Hardcover

Rating: ★★★★

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My Thoughts:

I really enjoyed reading “Frankenstein”, and I am glad I read it now, after so many years of wanting to. I usually wish I read a book sooner, but not this one, and for a couple of reasons. Had I read it in high-school, I would have read a translated version in Macedonian and it wouldn’t have been the same experience. Had I read it a few years back, I don’t think I’d appreciate the language and writing style. Now I feel it was the perfect timing, not only because I can appreciate the language more, but I also happened to read it for our book club at work, and it was so much more fun reading the book alongside other people, and discussing it along the way.

I honestly wish we felt this way about books in school. It wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but we kept sharing our progress and encouraging each other. We were sharing theories whilst trying, and sometimes failing to spoil it for someone else. It reminded me of a small time during high school, where we would discuss books like this with my literature professor, a woman I greatly admired then and still admire now.

“How slowly the time passes here, encompassed as I am by frost and snow!”

I was in love with the writing style. It was so vivid and mesmerising. In a world of contemporary fiction, “Frankenstein” was a breath of fresh air. There is so much about this story that can be dissected and analysed, and a lot of topics that can prompt a very good discussion. Who was the true villain and the nature versus nurture trope high on the list. But also the need to be accepted and the need to form connections in this evil world with no mercy.

When it comes to the plot, however, there were a few things that didn’t make sense to me. Please proceed with caution, because there are some spoilers further on: 

The size of the creature.

If it’s your first time creating life, why would you go for such a big creation in size? You’d probably go for something smaller. Not an 8-foot-tall giant. Frankenstein shared little to no information about the creation process itself, so I didn’t know if there was a particular reason for the need for such a size. But maybe it came from a place of arrogance and just shows another layer of Victor’s character?

Not liking your creation.

When Victor was creating this creature, and it was (I’m assuming) lying on a table, surely he could see what it looked like right before it came to life. So how come then, all of a sudden, when the creature was alive, he didn’t like it and was disgusted by him? And then on top of that, he just left. Abandoned the creature instantly. Then he comes back, realises the creature is no longer there and does – absolutely nothing. Surely you would be worried about where your new 8-foot-tall friend (THAT YOU CREATED!) has wandered off to and what he might be up to? 

The creature’s story.

This was the part I struggled with the most. I think of this creature, no matter how tall, and I see him as a toddler. For he was just created and is finding his way in this world. So, some of the parts, like where he discovered food, water, shelter and the need to be loved – I absolutely understood where they came from. But what I couldn’t get past was the way he was talking and describing his adventures. The way he was talking was the same as Robert Walton and Victor Frankenstein. It is simply not possible to have such rich vocabulary in such a short amount of time. It’s not as if he was sitting and reading academia in a library all this time.

Aside from these thoughts, where I struggled with the plot and the reasons behind certain actions, I really enjoyed this book. I read it fast, it evoked positive feelings and when I remember it in the future, I know I will remember it fondly. And that is everything I need to call it a good book!

“But I have one want which I have never been able to satisfy; and the absence of the object of which I now feel as a most severe evil. I have no friend, Margaret: when I am glowing with enthusiasm of success, there will be none to participate my joy; if I am assailed by disappointment, no one will endeavour to sustain me in dejection.”

About the Author:

Mary Shelley (née Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin, often known as Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley) was an English novelist, short story writer, dramatist, essayist, biographer, travel writer, and editor of the works of her husband, Romantic poet and philosopher Percy Bysshe Shelley. She was the daughter of the political philosopher William Godwin and the writer, philosopher, and feminist Mary Wollstonecraft.

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