by Mary Shelley
This was another book on Joseph Pearce’s “100 Works of Literature Every Catholic Should Read” list. In the beginning, it felt a bit melodramatic, particularly the male characters and especially Victor Frankenstein. I kept thinking someone should have been following him around with a fainting couch. But maybe that’s how men in the aristocratic classes were back then? And the story asked for a complete suspension of scientific reality, which was difficult for a modern gal growing up in a time when science is king. For instance, Victor Frankenstein carefully collected dead parts for the monster and then animated them. And he was so repulsed by the creature he’d created that he left it and the creature doesn’t appear again for over a year in the book’s timeline. I’m pretty sure if I reanimated a corpse and it disappeared, I’d be more curious as to what it was up to.
Once the monster does appear again, he is like a super man. He is stronger, larger, more agile, and more cunning than a regular human and very intelligent. And he speaks the perfect Victorian English of a gentleman – self-taught, of course. How did that happen with something built from decaying cadavers?
Once one gets past the scientific incredulity and drama, it’s a very good story. Frankenstein did a really good job of illustrating the fact that we create monstrous things when we take on the onus of being God which, I think, is anytime we go against his prescribed way of living and especially when indulging our pride.
There were a lot of Christian themes in this book which was a little surprising considering the author’s background.
A very good book that will give the reader much to think about and an improved vocabulary to boot!
(I’d recommend the Ignatius Critical Edition for its helpful notes and the essays at the back.)
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