I think the thing that struck me most about Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein was how un-horror-inducing it was. I didn’t find it to be a horror novel; sure Victor Frankenstein did a horrific thing (more on that later), but the novel itself wasn’t much of a horror book. In the edition I read, Walter James Miller pointed out that it’s actually more a work of science fiction than gothic or horror, and I’d have to agree. It’s a treatise on many things, the primary one being what happens when a scientist tries to become God.

Other observations:

Frankenstein, the scientist, is not a very sympathetic character. He creates this monster, mostly because he can, figuring the creation will bless his name. Instead, when the creature is made alive, Frankenstein freaks out, and bolts, leaving the creature to fend for himself. From this moment, I realized that the narrative was tainted; how could I respect or like or believe Frankenstein when he so casually creates life and then abandons it. Perhaps that’s the mother in me talking.

Along the same lines, I actually liked the monster better, or perhaps I should say that I felt more pity for the monster than for Frankenstein. I’m not sure whom Shelley wanted us to sympathize with, but I was entirely on the monster’s side. Frankenstein behaved abominably, and all the monster wanted was a companion. How could Frankenstein, having gone so far, deny the monster that thing?

There is an interesting discussion of nature versus nurture in the novel. The monster, by his own account, is actually a sensible, feeling, kind being. It’s the fact that he’s universally abhorred that makes him turn to violence and revenge against Frankenstein. It’s all in the nurture of the monster, or lack thereof, that calamity is brought upon Frankenstein and his friends. I’m not sure I agree, entirely, with that reasoning, but it made sense in the framework of the story.

The story itself was long-winded and plodding. I have to admit I skimmed sections, reading only enough to get the gist of the story. In the intro (which I liked, can you tell?), Miller blames Percy Shelley for that — he “edited” Mary’s language to make it more “literary”. I probably would have preferred something more straightforward.

This book has made me think, though. I’d love the opportunity to hash it out in a classroom or good book group setting; there are a lot of topics and thoughts for discussion in the 198 pages that Shelley wrote out. And for that, it’s well worth reading.

I read this once, about 6 years ago. It was the very last of an Austen kick, where I read all of her works back-to-back over the course of a month. Needless to say, by the time I got to Sense and Sensibility, all the books were sounding alike, and the 561 pages of this book were just daunting. I decided I liked Emma Thompson’s adaptation better, and haven’t bothered re-reading this one since.

That said, I thoroughly enjoyed reading it this time around. While the story of Elinor and Marianne and their suitors lacks the chemistry of Darcy and Lizzy and the humor of Emma, it more than makes up for in drama. I think this just might be the most intense of her stories… between the libertine and cad Willoughby and the tension and heartache that Elinor goes through with Edward, I’m not sure if there’s a more soap-opera-ish Austen. I also think that this one explores class and money in a more explicit way than in the other novels. Sure, it plays a part in Mansfield Park and P&P, but it’s more in the background. Fanny and Lizzy shouldn’t be getting the men they do because they’re out of their class. But, if it wasn’t for money, Marianne’s heart wouldn’t have been broken, Edward wouldn’t have been cast out. There are a lot of money-conscious characters in this one (right from the start with John and his wife!) and it factors heavily in the plot. I think Austen could rightly be pegged as showing what money *can* (but doesn’t necessarily) do to people, and how Elinor and Marianne deal with it.

I think I still like the movie version of this more than the book, though. There’s a lot of excess — characters, descriptions, plot points (what? Willoughby came back? I didn’t remember that!) — that Thompson streamlined while still maintaining the heart of the story. It’s one of my favorite adaptations, and I think I’m going to indulge myself tonight.

Glad I read the book first, though.