Frankenstein: A Gothic Classic - considered to be one of the earliest examples of Science Fiction (The Uncensored 1818 Edition)

By Mary W. Shelley

Mary Shelley's 'Frankenstein' is a groundbreaking work of Gothic fiction that examines themes of ambition, scientific ethics, and the consequences of playing god. Written in an epistolary style, the novel weaves together multiple narratives to create a complex and thought-provoking story that challenges societal norms and expectations. Set in the Romantic period, 'Frankenstein' reflects the anxieties surrounding technological advancements and the potential dangers of unchecked scientific experimentation. Shelley's vivid descriptions and intricate character development make the novel a timeless classic in the literary canon. Mary Shelley, inspired by a haunted summer in Switzerland, penned 'Frankenstein' at the young age of 18. As the daughter of famed writers Mary Wollstonecraft and William Godwin, Shelley was no stranger to intellectual pursuits and philosophical debates. Her personal experiences with loss and tragedy heavily influenced the themes present in 'Frankenstein', adding depth and emotion to the narrative. I highly recommend 'Frankenstein' to readers interested in exploring deep moral dilemmas, the limits of human ambition, and the consequences of overreaching scientific endeavors. Mary Shelley's masterpiece continues to captivate audiences with its complex characters and timeless themes.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Musaicum Books
• Release date: Dec 6, 2017
• ISBN: 9788027234837

Mary W. Shelley

Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley was born on August 30, 1797, into a life of personal tragedy. In 1816, she married the poet Percy Bysshe Shelley, and that summer traveled with him and a host of other Romantic intellectuals to Geneva. Her greatest achievement was piecing together one of the most terrifying and renowned stories of all time: Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus. Shelley said she conceived of Frankenstein in “a waking dream.” This vision was simply of a student kneeling before a corpse brought to life. Yet this tale of a mad creator and his abomination has inspired a multitude of storytellers and artists. She died on February 1, 1851.

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LETTER TWO

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TO MRS. SAVILLE, ENGLAND.

Archangel, 28th March, 17 – .

How slowly the time passes here, encompassed as I am by frost and snow; yet a second step is taken towards my enterprise. I have hired a vessel,and am occupied in collecting my sailors; those whom I have already engaged appear to be men on whom I can depend, and are certainly possessed of dauntless courage.

But I have one want which I have never yet 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 the 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. I shall commit my thoughts to paper, it is true; but that is a poor medium for the communication of feeling. I desire the company of a man who could sympathize with me; whose eyes would reply to mine. You may deem me romantic, my dear sister, but I bitterly feel the want of a friend. I have no one near me, gentle yet courageous, possessed of a cultivated as well as of a capacious mind, whose tastes are like my own, to approve or amend my plans. How would such a friend repair the faults of your poor brother! I am too ardent in execution, and too impatient of difficulties. But it is a still greater evil to me that I am self-educated: for the first fourteen years of my life I ran wild on a common, and read nothing but our uncle Thomas’s books of voyages. At that age I became acquainted with the celebrated poets of our own country; but it was only when it had ceased to be in my power to derive its most important benefits from such a conviction, that I perceived the necessity of becoming acquainted with more languages than that of my native country. Now I am twenty-eight, and am in reality more illiterate than many school-boys of fifteen. It is true that I have thought more, and that my day dreams are more extended and magnificent; but they want (as the painters call it) keeping; and I greatly need a friend who would have sense enough not to despise me as romantic, and affection enough for me to endeavour to regulate my mind.

Well, these are useless complaints; I shall certainly find no friend on the wide ocean, nor even here in Archangel, among merchants and seamen. Yet some feelings, unallied to the dross of human nature, beat even in these rugged bosoms. My lieutenant, for instance, is a man of wonderful courage and enterprise; he is madly desirous of glory. He is an Englishman, and in the midst of national and professional prejudices, unsoftened by cultivation, retains some of the noblest endowments of humanity. I first became acquainted with him on board a whale vessel: finding that he was unemployed in this city, I easily engaged him to assist in my enterprise.

The master is a person of an excellent disposition, and is remarkable in the ship for his gentleness, and the mildness of his discipline. He is, indeed, of so amiable a nature, that he will not hunt (a favourite, and almost the only amusement here), because he cannot endure to spill blood. He is, moreover, heroically generous. Some years ago he loved a young Russian lady, of moderate fortune; and having amassed a considerable sum in prize-money, the father of the girl consented to the match. He saw his mistress once before the destined ceremony; but she was bathed in tears, and, throwing herself at his feet, entreated him to spare her, confessing at the same time that she loved another, but that he was poor, and that her father would never consent to the union. My generous friend reassured the suppliant, and on being informed of the name of her lover instantly abandoned his pursuit. He had already bought a farm with his money, on which he had designed to pass the remainder of his life; but he bestowed the whole on his rival, together with the remains of his prize-money to purchase stock, and then himself solicited the young woman’s father to consent to her marriage with her lover. But the old man decidedly refused, thinking himself bound in honour to my friend; who, when he found the father inexorable, quitted his country, nor returned until he heard that his former mistress was married according to her inclinations. What a noble fellow! you will exclaim. He is so; but then he has passed all his life on board a vessel, and has scarcely an idea beyond the rope and the shroud.

But do not suppose that, because I complain a little, or because I can conceive a consolation for my toils which I may never know, that I am wavering in my resolutions. Those are as fixed as fate; and my voyage is only now delayed until the weather shall permit my embarkation. The winter has been dreadfully severe; but the spring promises well, and it is considered as a remarkably early season; so that, perhaps, I may sail sooner than I expected. I shall do nothing rashly; you know me sufficiently to confide in my prudence and considerateness whenever the safety of others is committed to my care.

I cannot describe to you my sensations on the near prospect of my undertaking. It is impossible to communicate to you a conception of the trembling sensation, half pleasurable and half fearful, with which I am preparing to depart. I am going to unexplored regions, to the land of mist and snow; but I shall kill no albatross, therefore do not be alarmed for my safety.

Shall I meet you again, after having traversed immense seas, and returned by the most southern cape of Africa or America? I dare not expect such success, yet I cannot bear to look on the reverse of the picture. Continue to write to me by every opportunity: I may receive your letters (though the chance is very doubtful) on some occasions when I need them most to support my spirits. I love you very tenderly. Remember me with affection, should you never hear from me again.

Your affectionate brother,

ROBERT WALTON.

LETTER THREE

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TO MRS. SAVILLE, ENGLAND.

July 7th, 17 – .

MY DEAR SISTER, I write a few lines in haste, to say that I am safe, and well advanced on my voyage. This letter will reach England by a merchant-man now on its homeward voyage from Archangel; more fortunate than I, who may not see my native land, perhaps, for many years. I am, however, in good spirits: my men are bold, and apparently firm of purpose; nor do the floating sheets of ice that continually pass us, indicating the dangers of the region towards which we are advancing, appear to dismay them. We have already reached a very high latitude; but it is the height of summer, and although not so warm as in England, the southern gales, which blow us speedily towards those shores which I so ardently desire to attain, breathe a degree of renovating warmth which I had not expected.

No incidents have hitherto befallen us, that would make a figure in a letter. One or two stiff gales, and the breaking of a mast, are accidents which experienced navigators scarcely remember to record; and I shall be well content, if nothing worse happen to us during our voyage.

Adieu, my dear Margaret. Be assured, that for my own sake, as well as yours, I will not rashly encounter danger. I will be cool, persevering, and prudent.

Remember me to all my English friends.

Most affectionately yours, R. W.

LETTER FOUR

TO MRS. SAVILLE, ENGLAND.

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August 5th, 17 – .

So strange an accident has happened to us, that I cannot forbear recording it, although it is very probable that you will see me before these papers can come into your possession.

Last Monday (July 31st), we were nearly surrounded by ice, which closed in the ship on all sides, scarcely leaving her the sea room in which she floated. Our situation was somewhat dangerous, especially as we were compassed round by a very thick fog. We accordingly lay to, hoping that some change would take place in the atmosphere and weather.

About two o’clock the mist cleared away, and we beheld, stretched out in every direction, vast and irregular plains of ice, which seemed to have no end. Some of my comrades groaned, and my own mind began to grow watchful with anxious thoughts, when a strange sight suddenly attracted our attention, and diverted our solicitude from our own situation. We perceived a low carriage, fixed on a sledge and drawn by dogs, pass on towards the north, at the distance of half a mile: a being which had the shape of a man, but apparently of gigantic stature, sat in the sledge, and guided the dogs. We watched the rapid progress of the traveller with our telescopes, until he was lost among the distant inequalities of the ice.

This appearance excited our unqualified wonder. We were, as we believed, many hundred miles from any land, but this apparition seemed to denote that it was not, in reality, so distant as we had supposed. Shut in, however, by ice, it was impossible to follow his track, which we had observed with the greatest attention.

About two hours after this occurrence, we heard the ground sea, and before night the ice broke, and freed our ship. We, however, lay to until the morning, fearing to encounter in the dark those large loose masses which float about after the breaking up of the ice. I profited of this time to rest for a few hours.

In the morning, however, as soon as it was light, I went upon deck, and found all the sailors busy on one side of the vessel, apparently talking to some one in the sea. It was, in fact, a sledge, like that we had seen before, which had drifted towards us in the night, on a large fragment of ice. Only one dog remained alive; but there was a human being within it, whom the sailors were persuading to enter the vessel. He was not, as the other traveller seemed to be, a savage inhabitant of some undiscovered island, but an European. When I appeared on deck, the master said, Here is our captain, and he will not allow you to perish on the open sea.

On perceiving me, the stranger addressed me in English, although with a foreign accent. Before I come on board your vessel, said he, will you have the kindness to inform me whither you are bound?

You may conceive my astonishment on hearing such a question addressed to me from a man on the brink of destruction, and to whom I should have supposed that my vessel would have been a resource which he would not have exchanged for the most precious wealth the earth can afford. I replied, however, that we were on a voyage of discovery towards the northern pole.

Upon hearing this he appeared satisfied, and consented to come on board. Good God! Margaret, if you had seen the man who thus capitulated for his safety, your surprise would have been boundless. His limbs were nearly frozen, and his body dreadfully emaciated by fatigue and suffering. I never saw a man in so wretched a condition. We attempted to carry him into the cabin; but as soon as he had quitted the fresh air, he fainted. We accordingly brought him back to the deck, and restored him to animation by rubbing him with brandy, and forcing him to swallow a small quantity. As soon as he shewed signs of life, we wrapped him up in blankets, and placed him near the chimney of the kitchen-stove. By slow degrees he recovered, and ate a little soup, which restored him wonderfully.

Two days passed in this manner before he was able to speak; and I often feared that his sufferings had deprived him of understanding. When he had in some measure recovered, I removed him to my own cabin, and attended on him as much as my duty would permit. I never saw a more interesting creature: his eyes have generally an expression of wildness, and even madness; but there are moments when, if any one performs an act of kindness towards him, or does him any the most trifling service, his whole countenance is lighted up, as it were, with a beam of benevolence and sweetness that I never saw equalled. But he is generally melancholy and despairing; and sometimes he gnashes his teeth, as if impatient of the weight of woes that oppresses him.

When my guest was a little recovered, I had great trouble to keep off the men, who wished to ask him a thousand questions; but I would not allow him to be tormented by their idle curiosity, in a state of body and mind whose restoration evidently depended upon entire repose. Once, however, the lieutenant asked, Why he had come so far upon the ice in so strange a vehicle?

His countenance instantly assumed an aspect of the deepest gloom; and he replied, To seek one who fled from me.

And did the man whom you pursued travel in the same fashion?

Yes.

Then I fancy we have seen him; for, the day before we picked you up, we saw some dogs drawing a sledge, with a man in it, across the ice.

This aroused the stranger’s attention; and he asked a multitude of questions concerning the route which the dæmon, as he called him, had pursued. Soon after, when he was alone with me, he said, I have, doubtless, excited your curiosity, as well as that of these good people; but you are too considerate to make inquiries.

Certainly; it would indeed be very impertinent and inhuman in me to trouble you with any inquisitiveness of mine.

And yet you rescued me from a strange and perilous situation; you have benevolently restored me to life.

Soon after this he inquired, if I thought that the breaking up of the ice had destroyed the other sledge? I replied, that I could not answer with any degree of certainty; for the ice had not broken until near midnight, and the traveller might have arrived at a place of safety before that time; but of this I could not judge.

From this time the stranger seemed very eager to be upon deck, to watch for the sledge which had before appeared; but I have persuaded him to remain in the cabin, for he is far too weak to sustain the rawness of the atmosphere. But I have promised that some one should watch for him, and give him instant notice if any new object should appear in sight.

Such is my journal of what relates to this strange occurrence up to the present day. The stranger has gradually improved in health, but is very silent, and appears uneasy when any one except myself enters his cabin. Yet his manners are so conciliating and gentle, that the sailors are all interested in him, although they have had very little communication with him. For my own part, I begin to love him as a brother; and his constant and deep grief fills me with sympathy and compassion. He must have been a noble creature in his better days, being even now in wreck so attractive and amiable.

I said in one of my letters, my dear Margaret, that I should find no friend on the wide ocean; yet I have found a man who, before his spirit had been broken by misery, I should have been happy to have possessed as the brother of my heart.

I shall continue my journal concerning the stranger at intervals, should I have any fresh incidents to record.

August 13th, 17 – .

My affection for my guest increases every day. He excites at once my admiration and my pity to an astonishing degree. How can I see so noble a creature destroyed by misery without feeling the most poignant grief? He is so gentle, yet so wise; his mind is so cultivated; and when he speaks, although his words are culled with the choicest art, yet they flow with rapidity and unparalleled eloquence.

He is now much recovered from his illness, and is continually on the deck, apparently watching for the sledge that preceded his own. Yet, although unhappy, he is not so utterly occupied by his own misery, but that he interests himself deeply in the employments of others. He has asked me many questions concerning my design; and I have related my little history frankly to him. He appeared pleased with the confidence, and suggested several alterations in my plan, which I shall find exceedingly useful. There is no pedantry in his manner; but all he does appears to spring solely from the interest he instinctively takes in the welfare of those who surround him. He is often overcome by gloom, and then he sits by himself, and tries to overcome all that is sullen or unsocial in his humour. These paroxysms pass from him like a cloud from before the sun, though his dejection never leaves him. I have endeavoured to win his confidence; and I trust that I have succeeded. One day I mentioned to him the desire I had always felt of finding a friend who might sympathize with me, and direct me by his counsel. I said, I did not belong to that class of men who are offended by advice. I am self-educated, and perhaps I hardly rely sufficiently upon my own powers. I wish therefore that my companion should be wiser and more experienced than myself, to confirm and support me; nor have I believed it impossible to find a true friend.

I agree with you, replied the stranger, in believing that friendship is not only a desirable, but a possible acquisition. I once had a friend, the most noble of human creatures, and am entitled, therefore, to judge respecting friendship. You have hope, and the world before you, and have no cause for despair. But I – I have lost every thing, and cannot begin life anew.

As he said this, his countenance became expressive of a calm settled grief, that touched me to the heart. But he was silent, and presently retired to his cabin.

Even broken in spirit as he is, no one can feel more deeply than he does the beauties of nature. The starry sky, the sea, and every sight afforded by these wonderful regions, seems still to have the power of elevating his soul from earth. Such a man has a double existence: he may suffer misery, and be overwhelmed by disappointments, yet when he has retired into himself, he will be like a celestial spirit, that has a halo around him, within whose circle no grief or folly ventures.

Will you laugh at the enthusiasm I express concerning this divine wanderer? If you do, you must have certainly lost that simplicity which was once your characteristic charm. Yet, if you will, smile at the warmth of my expressions, while I find every day new causes for repeating them.

August 19th, 17 – .

Yesterday the stranger said to me, You may easily perceive, Captain Walton, that I have suffered great and unparalleled misfortunes. I had determined, once, that the memory of these evils should die with me; but you have won me to alter my determination. You seek for knowledge and wisdom, as I once did; and I ardently hope that the gratification of your wishes may not be a serpent to sting you, as mine has been. I do not know that the relation of my misfortunes will be useful to you, yet, if you are inclined, listen to my tale. I believe that the strange incidents connected with it will afford a view of nature, which may enlarge your faculties and understanding. You will hear of powers and occurrences, such as you have been accustomed to believe impossible: but I do not doubt that my tale conveys in its series internal evidence of the truth of the events of which it is composed.

You may easily conceive that I was much gratified by the offered communication; yet I could not endure that he should renew his grief by a recital of his misfortunes. I felt the greatest eagerness to hear the promised narrative, partly from curiosity, and partly from a strong desire to ameliorate his fate, if it were in my power. I expressed these feelings in my answer.

I thank you, he replied, for your sympathy, but it is useless; my fate is nearly fulfilled. I wait but for one event, and then I shall repose in peace. I understand your feeling, continued he, perceiving that I wished to interrupt him; but you are mistaken, my friend, if thus you will allow me to name you; nothing can alter my destiny: listen to my history, and you will perceive how irrevocably it is determined.

He then told me, that he would commence his narrative the next day when I should be at leisure. This promise drew from me the warmest thanks. I have resolved every night, when I am not engaged, to record, as nearly as possible in his own words, what he has related during the day. If I should be engaged, I will at least make notes. This manuscript will doubtless afford you the greatest pleasure: but to

Reviews for Frankenstein

[tankexmortis · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Horribly mistreated by critics and analysts who won't allow the work to stand on it's own and insist on dissecting it until it's beauty can no longer be seen. Beautifully written, certainly a classic, and among my favorite books. But I wish people would stop trying to chop it up.

[elizajane_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Reason for Reading: I intend to read the upcoming non-fiction title "The Lady and Her Monsters" which is about the writing and background of the creation of the novel "Frankenstein" so I thought it would be best if I re-read the book to better appreciate the former.I am a huge Frankenstein fan! I first watched the Boris Karloff movie as a young child and have since seen it dozens of times. I've seen all the MGM sequels and have a deluxe DVD edition with commentaries, etc. I've also seen many, many different remakes, pastiches and parodies of the movie as well as reading Frankenstein themed retellings, comics and pastiches. I have read this, the original book, once before when I was quite young. It was one of the first books I took out of the library when I obtained an adult library card with special permission of my father at 12 or 13. (You had to be 14, or in highschool, to get one at the time). Needless to say at this point in time 30 years later, the movie version, specifically the James Whale (Boris Karloff) version is the one that I think of when I think of the Frankenstein story.When I went into reading this book I knew that it was a totally different story than what my mind recalls from the movies but I also remembered that it started in the Arctic with the monster relating his story to Frankenstein. So from this I was totally blown away with how incredibly different the actual story is to the conceived modern notion of the tale. The book is told in narrative form from three different points of view and is a story within a story within a story. Starting off with a mariner writing home letters to his sister as he starts an Arctic expedition and then becomes stuck in ice he recounts his tale and his meeting of Victor Frankenstein who stumbles upon them near death in his mad chase of his creature. Then Walton, the mariner, recounts the tale that Frankenstein relates to him of his life. The awful, hideous story of his wretched life. Halfway through this recounting Frankenstein stops to relate the story the creature pauses to tell him of his life story since he woke from the "spark of life" and wandered into the world on his own. Then it goes back to Frankenstein's narrative and finally ends again with Walton's letters. This way we get both Frankenstein and the creature's tales from their own mouths, in their own words as they were related to the person they spoke to. Neither Frankenstein or the creature are sympathetic which I found surprising, as in the movie I am deeply sympathetic to Karloff's monster. But in the novel, he is a vile, wicked, murdering beast who at first thinks he has human compassion but quickly is turned from having any and easily finds violence and revenge better to his suiting when he is not treated fairly by others. Frankenstein himself is simply mad, the quintessential mad scientist. Obsessed with his creation he thinks of nothing else, working in solitude day and night until he completes his reanimation of life. Upon first glimpse of this "life" he is so horrified that he runs from it and from this point on he becomes obsessed with finding it and destroying it, however the monster has developed his own lust for destroying Frankenstein and sets out to destroy him also, not bodily but in mind and soul by killing all who mean anything to him.A frightening tale that shows the futility and madness at playing God with science, even though the book mentions very little about religion. This edition I read from "The Whole Story" edition is a wonderful annotated edition which really brings the classics to life. The annotations don't particularly help explain the story any better, though there are some pictures and definitions of some items and devices one may not be familiar with. The main purpose of these annotations is to set one geographically and historically within the place and era that the book was written. Profusely illustrated with etchings and paintings of place names mentioned in the story one becomes immersed in the scenery and in this book particularly the Gothic feel comes to life. Historically we see the prisons of the time period, meet the Romantic poets and artists who shaped the life of the author and the mood which carried over into this novel. I really enjoy and recommend this edition, have several others in the series and would pick up any others I found, but unfortunately they are out of print at this time.

[bibleblaster · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Not the story you'd expect from the late-night "creature features. With the power of myth, Shelley tells the story of Dr. Frankenstein, the life he creates, and the lives he destroys. Makes me wonder about her other novels and what themes she tackled...Seeming only to gain in relevancy to the human condition with each passing year, this story will be with us for a long time.

[glennbell_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

An interesting, well written, and entertaining story. The story has some fatal flaws that render it less than it could have been. It is just unreasonable that Victor would not forsee the creature's desire to kill his wife. There is no attempt to explain how the creature obtains giant stature. The creature's explanation of his increase in knowledge is too fast and illogical. Alternatively, a brain from a dead person would perhaps retain some knowledge from it's prior life. This appears not to be the case. I also find it unlikely that the creature would commit suicide based on the described personality traits.

[arkrayder · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

When I first read Frankenstein as a teenager I found it incredibly boring. But, thankfully I decided to re-read it after having found this edition and could not put it down. Great story, in a way timeless. I will seek out the "uncensored" 1818 version and compare. Fully worth the time it took to read.

[arubabookwoman · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I thought I had read this years ago, probably as a teenager. If so, I had apparently lost all memory of it, as my memories appear to have been of the events as depicted in the old flickering black and white films. The book itself is wonderful, the narrative lines complex, the prose dark and brooding. Lots of very modern themes here--fear of what technology can bring, the need for responsible science, prejudice and fear of the unknown. But also very character driven--even though Frankenstein's "monster" does horrific things, we sympathize with his plight. Highly recommended.4 1/2 stars

[mattries37315 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Nearly 200 years ago, Mary Shelley described how Victor Frankenstein achieved the seemingly impossible in creating life and how afterwards both he and his creation hurtled into a downward spiral. “Frankenstein” was the first piece of literature that would later become part of the science fiction genre through its protagonist’s use of science, but it is also the ethical and moral issues in the said use as well.The central moment story is well-known thanks to films and other popular adaptations, though the details are different. Victor Frankenstein, the supreme student of science, forms a creature over two years through obsessive work but only upon bringing it to life does he realize how monstrous he has formed it. The shock of his actions cause his health to fail him and he never truly recovers as his creation ever continues to plague both his mental and physical health until he dies of exhaustion. Yet, Frankenstein’s creature is equal shocked, first at his own existence and then with the realization that he is not human and monstrously so.The unnamed creature’s struggle towards humanity, achieving language and in-depth thought, is rendered in the end useless without the added element of social involvement with a humanity that shuns him including his own creator. Without the connection to humanity, the creature turns against it and begins taking his revenge the members of the human race most treasured by his creature. After Frankenstein’s rejection to give his creature a female counterpart to share his life, the creature deprives his creator of his new wife. Yet after the death of his creator, the creature seems to realize how human he had become with his utter disregard for life that many real people achieve on their own.While the book is from a different time and standard of literature that make it strange when compared to current books, “Frankenstein” has an element that keeps it as relevant today as it did back when Mary Shelley wrote it. The ethical and moral dilemmas that not only science but everyday life presents to us can take us down many different paths that include the flawed creator or a monster amongst them.

[russell7alynn · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

If you haven't read this book, you should! Movies about the Frankenstein monster don't do him justice. When you read this book you will definitely understand a lot of the monster's actions and sympathize with him.

[aspirit-1 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

I didn't finish this story, perhaps because I'd tired of Victorian/Gothic fiction by the time I'd started reading this novel. Perhaps, it was because I hadn't expected a frame story about how the hedonistic Dr. Frankenstein created a person on whim, abandoned him, and refused to take responsibility even as his creation showed an infantile inability to move on from his traumatic rebirth without guidance.

Half-way through the story, I was rooting for someone to shove the doctor off a cliff and help Frankenstein's monster to become a self-sufficient man. I doubt the end is that cheerful.

There is a strong possibility that this story can be a trigger from adults who'd suffered neglect and abandonment in childhood. I appreciate that Shelley wrote a story that can elicit strong emotions through its plot, but it was too difficult to continue at times. I felt that too much of the story was told from Dr. Frankenstein's point of view (POV), making the section from the unnamed monster's POV more painful.

One day, I'll try reading all the way through with different expectations.

[m.belljackson · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This illustrated version enhances the power of Mary Shelley's story as the fragmented features and intermittent color call up both the tragic horror and the pervasive deep sadness.With foreshadowing of lightning and storms, it was surprising that Victor Frankenstein's creationsimply came alive by opening its milky eyes. In this instance, the combination of his awakeningin the movie heightens the strength of the original story. Grateful for both!

[bohemima · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

The book is different from the movie.How often have we heard and said that? In the case of Frankenstein the differences even more difficult than usual. The classic horror movie with Karloff is, oddly, more true to the essential message of the novel than one might expect—although the plot details are way off.We start with a framing device: Frankenstein has been rescued by a ship’s captain from the frozen waters of the far north. He (Frankenstein) tells his awful (in all senses of the word) tale. Frankenstein’s unhealthy curiosity and hubris lead him to create a “man.” This well-meaning, if bizarre, experiment doesn’t go well. Horror, murder, and mayhem ensue.But this isn’t just a Gothic romance designed to thrill the heart of the innocent reader. Instead it’s a study of what happens to a creature who is feared, hated, and rejected by everyone, including his creator. The reader soon realizes that if the Creature had been afforded even a modicum of compassion and understanding none of the evil would have ensued. This idea is well-realized in the movie from the 1930’s.Frankenstein is often read as a study in hubris and pride; the doctor is seen as impious at best and Saranic at worst. None of this is supported by the text.The book retains its suspense and compulsion to keep turning the pages even on a third or fourth reading. An excellent moral tale, couched in enough melodrama to please any lover of sensational fiction. There’s nothing prurient or gross to keep it from young or sensitive readers. Highly recommended.

[msaucier818 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This book was not what I expected at all. I have seen various television and movie productions of Frankenstein, and none of them are accurate to the story at all outside of the creation of a "monster" out of dead human parts. The course of the story was very unexpected, and there is not nearly as much sympathy for the monster as I would have expected going into the book. The intellectual side of me very much enjoyed this book as it brings up many good philosophical questions about the meaning of life. It also even has a hint of science fiction in the sense that it looks the question of how would a creature such as this develop into an intelligent being.

I am glad I read this and am surprised that it took me so long to get to it. Recommended for all.

[bonniemarjorie · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

The summer of 1816 was named the “Year Without a Summer” after the eruption of Mount Tambora caused a long and dreary Volcanic Winter. With everyone keeping to the indoors, Mary, her future husband Percy Shelley, Lord Byron and John Polidori all entertained themselves by telling ghost stories and then inevitably it was suggested they each come up with their own type of horror story. It was during this very summer that Mary Shelley, at the age of eighteen, came up with the initial concept of Frankenstein.‘After days and night of incredible labour and fatigue, I succeeded in discovering the cause of generation and life; nay, more, I became myself capable of bestowing animation upon lifeless matter.’Frankenstein is the story of Victor Frankenstein, a man that through experiementation in both science and alchemy devised a way to combine pieces of human corpses and give them new life. Frankenstein is a legendary story and has become a pivotal part of our cultural understanding of the supernatural world, however, the novel is actually nothing like the classic movies involving lightning, screaming and Frankenstein actually being excited at his accomplishments.His shock and awe quickly transforms into a horrific realization at what he was capable of and he ran away in terror, leaving the monster alone. We’re told Frankenstein’s story first and the steps that led to the monsters creation and the subsequent events as well. Frankenstein depicts him as a monster, thus the reason he is never given an actual name, but when we are finally given the story via the monsters point of view we realize this ‘monster’ is quite possibly anything but. His is a story of complete despondency that easily garners your compassion regardless of the pain and suffering he has wreaked. He may be a creation but is he still not a person? Is his creators ensuing abandonment to blame for his conduct because Frankenstein had a duty beyond just his creation? I believe it is. Without his creator there to teach him the ways of the world, he was forced to observe, learn and interpret on his own. So then it was his observances of society what transformed him into who he came to be? A matter of circumstance? He became an outcast of society because of his appearance and after a time became lonely and craved a companion. He sought out his creator so as to force him to duplicate his work.This is my first read of the classic and I must say it’s nothing like I was expecting. It ended up being a strange and eclectic blend of genres. It was science fiction, with the creation of a man from pieces of corpses, and it was gothic and horror, the dead coming back to life and wreaking havoc on the world. Neither of those were the sole purpose or point of this story; it only set the scene. At the heart of this story are the revolutionary and intellectual questions about life, death and existence. About scientific possibilities and how far is too far. And it’s about compassion and lack of it in this world. Was Frankenstein’s monster truly an outcast only because of his appearance, because initially he showed the utmost caring towards individuals and even saved a drowning girl at one point. Society saw the monster and judged him harshly based off that alone, never giving him the benefit of the doubt. It’s a fictional accounting of a harsh world but it’s a rather truthful and distressing accounting. This is Gothic literature at its very finest and I’m so glad I finally conquered this incredible piece of work.‘Once I falsely hoped to meet with beings who, pardoning my outward form, would love me for the excellent qualities which I was capable of unfolding. I was nourished with high thoughts of honour and devotion. But now crime has degraded me beneath the meanest animal. No guilt, no mischief, no malignity, no misery, can be found comparable to mine. When I run over the frightful catalogue of my sins, I cannot believe that I am the same creature whose thoughts were once filled with sublime transcendent visions of the beauty and the majesty of goodness.’

[umamh12 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Knowing the real story of the writer, Mary Shelley, you can relate to the dilemma of whether to bring back a loved one back from the dead or not. The consequences of knowing it may not be someone you recognize.

[tess_w · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This is a great version of the classic. It is so much better written than the classic Dracula. Victor Frankenstein creates a hideous being from corpses. This monster, after failing to receive acceptance because of his appearance, kills those beloved by its creator. His demand is that Frankenstein build a mate for him. Frankenstein refuses and the monster then destroys everything the Dr. loves. He also destroys Frankenstein’s sanity. It’s obvious that the author was well-educated because her choice of words was superior to most other writers that one reads.

[hathaway_library · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Deeper and darker than I would ever have imagined. A case study in misery. I'm a sucker for any book that leads me to the Arctic.

[collingsruth · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Too much romanticism. And I think the pressure to look at the creature sympathetically pissed me off more than it should.

[kromestomes · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

In a surprising fit of diligence, I decided to read the novel Frankenstein before reading and reviewing the graphic novel for the LT Early Reviewers.And “frankly,” what struck me the most was the language Shelley used. I’ve read a fair number of authors who were working in the mid to late 1800s, and rarely did I find the style and state of the English language to be as obtrusive as they were in Frankenstein, which was published in 1818.This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but, for me, it did put an extra barrier between myself and the text, making the reading experience a little less natural feeling. An example of what I mean is the following passage, describing Frankenstein’s feelings of disappointment after bringing the monster to life.“Thus not the tenderness of friendship, nor the beauty of earth, nor of heaven, could redeem my soul from woe: the very accents of love were ineffectual. I was encompassed by a cloud which no beneficial influence could penetrate. The wounded deer dragging its fainting limbs to some untrodden brake, there to gaze upon the arrow which had pierced it, and to die--was but a type of me.”I also have to wonder if the nearly 200 years between Shelley’s writing and my reading affect what I thought of some of the wilder aspects of the plot. And I don’t only mean those having to do with the monster. But I’ll get back to that.Anyway, the basic outline of the book is that Victor Frankenstein, from a noble Genevan family, discovers how to bring the spark of life to the dead and goes about putting together and animating the “monster” from body parts harvested from corpses.But when the monster lives and Frankenstein sees its physical ugliness, he can’t bear it. He essentially turns the monster out. Years pass and the monster becomes acquainted with the ways of mankind: That is, that people will not look beyond his physical appearance to find the humanity that lies inside.So he then tracks down Frankenstein to have his revenge, which involves killing off Frankenstein’s friends and family in a way that is supposed to ultimately force the good doctor to create a female monster, with whom the original will retire the some uncivilized part of the world and leave the rest of mankind alone.Frankenstein eventually gives it a try, but when the time comes to reanimate the female monster, he can’t do it, concerned about playing god and letting loose another daemon the world.The monsters gets his revenge by killing Frankenstein’s wife on his/her wedding day. Frankenstein vows to hunt him down. The books ends w/Frankenstein dying essentially of exhaustion and the creature, upon discovering this, vows to kill himself as well, now that his tormentor/creator, Frankenstein, is also dead.There’s some good philosophical stuff here about technology, its limits and how people treat one another, and that’s what gives the novel its timeless appeal.But, as I mentioned, some of the other plot points deserve a second look. The key example is that Frankenstein’s significant other, Elizabeth, was actually the child of a nobleman and his mistress a German woman, who died when Elizabeth was born. She was then taken in by a peasant family, which was discovered by Frankenstein’s mother and “adopted” as Frankenstein’s cousin/sister. This was when Victor was about five and Elizabeth was younger.The elder Frankensteins’ plan, it becomes clear, was for Victor and Elizabeth to marry. After being raised together as siblings for 15 or so years.This way of treating people as products to be traded and moved about likely informs the way Frankenstein treats the creature as well.And one final thing did strike me as a misstep, plot-wise. The monster tells Frankenstein that he (the monster) plans on getting his revenge by striking at those he (Frankenstein) loves best. But despite this, when the monster says he will get his ultimate revenge on Frankenstein’s wedding night, the doctor thinks the monster means to kill him, not his wife. That just didn’t seem likely to me, even in the context of all the other unlikelinesses.Finally getting to the graphic novel, I have to say this was relatively well done. The illustrator’s take on the monster was new to me, but believable, and the overall level of the graphics throughout was good. Further, it used Shelley’s original text, although I found a passage that, in the novel, involved Frankenstein narrating to himself a bit of action that became, in the graphic novel, a quote in the mouth of someone else.But all in all, the graphic novel stripped out some of the more purple prose, allowing a modern reader to focus on the essential points of the original. And that does bring up a point in which some readers will be interested: The company behind the graphic novel explicitly positions the book as a way to get today’s younger (high school-ish) readers interested in some of the classics. The company even advertises versions of the graphic novel that have been translated into modern English and, beyond this, further specially edited into some sort of even easier to read “QuickText.”In the end, I recommend both the original novel and the original text graphic novel, but with the caveat that the former requires a bit more effort and the latter loses just a bit of the nuances of the story.

[knotbox · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

Read during a week in the Austrian Alps, and all I could feel of this book was the atmosphere. I didn't enjoy the characters, and felt the introduction to his cousin was to brief to allow any attachment to her. When she left the narrative, I was barely affected.

The ending left me confused, and I felt the plot overall was driven by some weird goal of telling some sort of Faustian myth, but poorly executed. The religious tones and lessons were over powering.

The Romanticism was over powering at times, and almost completely absent at others. It seemed that Shelly wasn't very good with this.

[sageness · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I really thought I'd read this already, but I think I tried and bounced off it when I was 11 or 12.

I wish all the voices didn't sound the same.

I'd like to see it filmed as a psychological thriller and starring someone no older than 23 as Victor Frankenstein. I mean, abandonment at "birth" vs horror at That Thing vs Dear God, what have I done? is so much heady tension. It would be amazing if done right. And not cartoonish at all.

[a.godhelm · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

This LATW production benefitted immensely by Stacy Keach's gravely reading of the monster. It refrained from what many other productions have done in aping the cinematic incarnations of an ill spoken monster and a dilemma of science going too far, instead taking from the book the well spoken creation struggling with his own existence, with loneliness and rejection, and a creator who turns against him.

[kalliegrace · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Finally I've read the original sci-fi that had inspired so many of my favorites. And though this is a different flavor of sci-fi/horror than you might expect, it's perfect anyway. There is a very present dread that hangs over the whole story, the monster's parts are so sad, Frankenstein's parts are gloomy and eerie. Facing what you've created, seeking belonging and finding none, so many great themes here. It's an old book, so your quick plot beats aren't here, but it's excellent just the same.

[cheryl_in_cc_nv · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

“While I watched the storm, so beautiful yet terrific, I wandered on with a hasty step. This noble war in the sky elevated my spirits.”

I have remembered that use of the word 'terrific' for almost a half century. I wish it weren't archaic.

[bookomaniac-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

“Who was I? what was I? whence did I come? What was my destination?”
I probably had the same experience as many other readers: this is not the Frankenstein story that I remember from the old (black and white) films, or rather: here the bloodthirsty, thoroughly evil monster of those movies is not present at all. On the contrary, the creature created by Doctor Frankenstein turns out to be a being who means well, who is capable of tender feelings, and is even helpful. That is…, until people see him and harass and reject him. You could even feel sorry for him. The afterword to this book confirms the contrast with the film versions, and adds that this is largely Mary Shelley's own fault: 13 years after the original version, she published an adapted version in which the dialogues with the creature, the insight into his tormented soul, are omitted. Apparently that negative, purely monstrous image appealed much more to the general public, eventually also in the various cinema versions.

No, actually, reading this original version was a pleasant surprise, especially because of the extensive middle section, in which the creature itself tells how it became so ‘degenerate’: “When I looked around I saw and heard of none like me. Was I, then, a monster, a blot upon the earth, from which all men fled and whom all men disowned?” In other words, the creature only became a monster through its rejection by humans. Shelley has thus brought to light nothing less than the concept of social evil: man, naturally good (a typical Enlightenment idea), only becomes bad through the bad treatment by other people. Time and again, when the creature speaks, this is emphasized, right up to the end. “I was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend”.

Another major theme of this book that regularly recurs is that of Prometheus: the theme of human hubris, the man who obsessively searches for knowledge, who wants to control the world (and life) to his advantage, with destructive consequences. You find it in the figure of the adventurer Reverend Walton and in Victor Frankenstein, but it is the ‘monster’ that expresses it best: “but sorrow only increased with knowledge”. A clear message.

Formally, this book is ingeniously constructed, with a story (that of the ‘monster’) within a story (that of Victor Frankenstein) within a story (that of Reverend Walton). And of course, this is a work that is characterized by Romanticism through and through, with the focus on excessive feelings, overdramatized scenes and landscapes that elevate and console the characters. Perhaps not all storylines are equally credible or well thought out, but this is and remains a novel of great historical and philosophical importance. And please, forget the later film versions.

[thebooksofwrath · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Contrary to popular belief, Frankenstein is not a book about a savage monster created by a crazed scientist who escapes to wreak havoc on unsuspecting nobodies. If anybody is the monster here, it's Victor Frankenstein himself, who has been given the power of a god to create a life, but doesn't consider the psychological flaws in the experiment. I see Frankenstein as more of a social novel than a horror novel in this respect. Shelley wants for the reader to sympathize with the Creature, not to condemn him like the cottagers do, who do so just because he's different. Frankenstein depicts the anti-Eden of new birth, a lonely soul without a companion, which is why the Creature rebels. The Creature is but a child without maturity or experience, summoned into a world which despises him, so how can we expect him to behave any differently?

[spoko_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I was bound to like this book, really. I've always been engaged with concerns of scientific overreach and the dark side of ambition. That said, I don't usually like a book with such a clear message to convey. But Shelley did a fine job making this into a real page-turner. It's not that the outcome is such a mystery, I suppose. But it's well written, and the arcs of the characters themselves are enough to propel it forward. There are some dry spots with a bit more exposition than necessary (Frankenstein's chronicle of his developing interest in science, for example, or the monster's recounting of his time at the DeLacey cottage), but even these were largely mitigated by Shelley's skillful writing. I have to note, also, that this is the best use of the bookend device I've probably ever seen. Perhaps that's because it's not truly a bookend--Walton actually enters Frankenstein's story before it's finished, and he becomes a significant factor in its completion. Or perhaps it's because of the way our narrator's ambition parallels Frankenstein's own. But it works nicely here, and ties the story up perfectly at the end.

The greatest testament to the novel's genius is probably that, almost two centuries later, it's at least as thought-provoking and relevant as it could have been when it was written.

[fartomic · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

ugh her minnddd!!! I'm not even gonna try to write what i think, how much i love this book and how brilliant Mary Shelley was. Ohh i could talk about this book for hours on end, and about every frankenstein's monster inspired character and so on and so forth...

[karlstar_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

The classic horror fiction tale of a scientist and his creation. Set in the late 1700's/early 1800's, Victor Frankenstein relates his tale of his creation. A college student, he becomes obsessed with classic 'natural philosophy' (alchemy?) and fuses it with current knowledge in chemistry to learn how to create life. From that point on, his creation obsesses and haunts him, driving him insane multiple times. A true creation gone wrong. A very interesting novel and truly a classic. I enjoyed the introduction to this edition too.

[leslie398 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Quite different from the classic movie... The monster is actually fairly articulate and, despite his horrible deeds, a tragic figure (IMO more so than Dr. Frankenstein).

[kjc__ · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I read the book on Standard Ebooks, which is Project Gutenberg if Project Gutenberg had nicer formatting. I'll try to use their service instead of Gutenbergs in the future, since the reading experience is more consistent.

In a fit of passion, the protagonist imbues lifeless matter with life, thus creating Frankenstein. Frankenstein is ostracized because of his nightmarish appearance even though he wishes to do good, so he demands of his creator to make a companion like him. The creator declines—so Frankenstein ruins his life.

I expected more horror from the book, but it wasn't in the slightest scary. Frankenstein is Frankenstein, everyone knows him, if only as cartoonish Halloween decoration.

I hope Robert Walton got back safely, he can probably live comfortably off of the publishing and selling of the story.