Original Post Date: 07.08.16
This is not a book review. This is a casual and honest tale on my reading experience of FRANKENSTEIN by Mary Shelley. There will be spoilers, so please proceed at your own discretion.
Here we go.
A few months ago I visited The Last Bookstore in Downtown L.A. as I had heard it was a magical place. Well, I’m not sure about the “magical” part but let me tell you there was a very impressive Horror Vault to which, just like moths to a flame, I was immediately pulled into. Once inside, I made a full 360 and a single item caught my eye – a blue book whose gorgeous art cover was begging to be grabbed. It was the handsome face of the classic Frankenstein’s Monster. I bought the book solely due to its external beauty. I went home and placed the blue book on top of my bookshelf and forgot about it.
Now, this is where it all really begins.
The book FRANKENSTEIN or The Modern Prometheus was written in 1818 by Mary Shelley. Needless to say some of the words used back then are now considered archaic, so for me it was a lot of pausing the reading when I didn’t know the meaning of a word, looking for it on the dictionary, and re-reading the paragraph. Thanks to Mary Shelley now I know fifty-three new words.
What can I tell you man, the book was GRAND! And I strongly think that my feelings towards it got directly affected by my love for the movie Frankenstein (1931), as well as Bride of Frankenstein (1935). Now, having read the book I can tell you, without joking around, that neither movie follows much of Mary Shelley’s text.
Victor Frankenstein broke my heart. He lived his life tormented by his creation, the ‘wretched’ monster. Victor was a fighter and even though he was almost always on the verge of death due to illness (debilitating nerves), he never gave up not even when everyone he loved was getting killed by the monster’s revenge.
And the monster (oh, the monster), believe it or not, had a gentle soul just like us, well, before it was polluted by hatred and revenge after being rejected by his protectees aka the villagers he was inconspicuously looking after, and diligently learning from. This next passage made me misty-eyed while reading it during lunch break at work:
“I had not a moment to lose, but, seizing the hand of the old man, I cried, “Now is the time! Save and protect me!” – The monster
The monster was so afraid to come out to the world. He had lived in seclusion for so long while he learned how to behave like a human, how to speak like a human, and in the end, he craved to be loved like a human. But he got rejected by the humans, in a very violent way nonetheless, due to his frightful looks. So he went away and searched for his creator, Victor Frankenstein, to request he made him a mate who would not reject him for his looks because she would also be hideous looking. But Victor knew better and refused, deciding to live with the consequences of his denial.
While reading Mary Shelley’s story I could not choose sides. I empathized with both Victor and the monster but for different reasons and each had disadvantages –the former got greedy and lost everything; the latter succumbed to violence and lost as well. I guess I would have to say that after finishing he whole story and reflecting on it, I would choose Victor as my main guy. He never gave up and that I applaud.
Even thought my time with the book has ended I still feel the emotional connection with the characters. I don’t know how to eloquently put it into words, but the raw emotions and the ups and downs took a toll on me. (Wow, I sounded like Victor.)
As for my precious blue book, it is time it goes back to its rightful place on top of my bookshelf, where it will look as pretty as the first time I laid eyes on it at the Horror Vault.
- Marath