Frankenstein | Mary Shelley

You will rejoice to hear that no disaster has accompanied the commencement of an enterprise which you have regarded with such evil forebodings.


The thing about ‘Frankenstein’ is that it’s a classic and everyone loves it, but I just can’t bring myself to say that I even remotely enjoyed it.

This is one that we had to read for Year 12 Literature, and it’s the first time that I have not found reading to be pleasurable. Aside from quite a few lovely plot lines (I’ll get to this in a second), the writing style constantly changes and that just really puts me off. Also, there are other words in the English language other than ‘ardent’. Seriously.

So, the plot lines. First of all, Dr. Frankenstein essentially decides to make a human. Should be great. He finds the body pieces (which just so happen to fit together proportionately, and somehow make the creature 7 foot tall. Were people that tall back then? Huh.), assembles them, and brings it to life. This is a project that he’s spent a large portion of his life on, remember. Then the creature comes to life. And he’s scared of it? He runs away? Sounds about right. Comes back and it’s ‘oh no, he’s gone!’. What did you expect?

Then, there’s the whole thing about how the creature learns to read and write. He looks through a hole in the shed from which he’s hiding. Across the garden. Into the house. Where the inhabitants just to happen to be reading a book at just the right angle for him to read from? Yep.

And THEN the creature goes about chasing Frankenstein down, that is, after he’s killed his wife. This is the only book I’ve read that I’ve genuinely disliked this much. There is so much wrong with it, and yet I have two copies?

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