by Mary Shelley
Published by Penguin Classics
2 Out of 5 Stars
While I did not enjoy this book, I am glad that I read it because it is interesting to see how different Frankenstein's monster has become after Hollywood and pop culture reinvented Shelley's creation. If you were to watch the film version of the movie and then read the book, you might be shocked to find that they're supposedly the same story. Despite this, I did not enjoy the book for the following reasons:
A) Ugh, Romanticism. Yes, yes. The trees, the mountains, the flowers are beautiful, but I don't need redundant reminders of the glory that is nature.
B) Not only did Frankenstein create a monster, but apparently an intellectual prodigy as well. Despite being dead gray matter, the monster's brain sure is remarkably intact and capable of learning at a rapid rate.
C) Didactic in the utmost. I could practically hear Shelley dragging out her soapbox everytime the monster appeared on the page to speak about the injustice done to him, man is the real monster, etc., etc., etc.