Frankenstein (Collins Classics)

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Fourth: As surprised as I am to be saying this, this novel has ousted Dracula as my all time favorite of the classic horror stories…sorry Bram, but the good/evil, sad, desperate loneliness of the orphaned monster trying to find a purpose and to define himself in the world trumps The Count. As an aside, Shelley’s life, and her relationship with the doomed Percy, is worth exploring. There is free love, unfounded suggestions that Percy penned Frankenstein, and tragedy aplenty. La denominada Criatura, Demonio, Engendro o Monstruo es de los personajes más humanos con los que me he topado. Es suntuosa la carga emotiva, el abigarramiento en el interior de un ser que fue engendrado por ciencia mal utilizada. Un vínculo irónico entre un hombre que quería ser dios y un ser que siempre quiso ser hombre. Para mí esta es la crítica más punzante de Mary Shelley. Repudia que nos dejemos llevar por las apariencias en vez de detenernos a pensar en lo que estamos haciendo. La egolatría, la soberbia y el prejuicio son lo más lamentable de nuestra conducta como humanidad, y esas condiciones danzaron alrededor del llamado Monstruo y acabaron destruyendo la bondad más pura, que, prácticamente, ni había llegado a florecer. The only problem with that theory is that NONE of the male characters in this book sounded remotely male. Third: My heart shattered for the “monster” and I haven’t felt this strong a desire to “hug it out, bitch” since reading Grendel and Crooked Letter, Crooked Letter. The “wretch” is so well drawn and powerfully portrayed that he form the emotional ligament for the entire story. He is among the finest creations the written form has to offer.

I did enjoy it again this time and it stands up to the 5 star review and designation of classic. There were a few slow parts - mainly when Dr. Frankenstein would stop the narrative to wax poetical about something - but, not enough t take a way from my overall enjoyment.An upper-crust guy sails off to the Arctic to make discoveries, and to pass the time he writes to his sister. Supposedly, he's been sailing around on whaling ships for several years. And he's been proven an invaluable resource by other captains. Integrating this element opens up many ethical implications regarding who the real monster is, leading to Nine: I would place the monster among the finest literary creations of all time. This singular manifestation of humanity’s scientific brilliance and callous indifference to the consequences thereof is masterfully done. Frankenstein’s “wretch” became the prototype of the literary outcast and every “misunderstood” creature since has been offspring from his loins. His character profile is phenomenal, and just as Victor’s actions garner sporadic moments of understanding for his cruel treatment of the monster, so the monster’s wanton acts of vile cruelty severely test our compassion for him. Tested, bent and stretched, but, for me at least, never broken. I understood his pain…I understood his anger…I understood. I'm not sure when it happens, but at some point, every woman finally realizes the ( fairly obvious) truth. That´s something ignored and misunderstood in many interpretations and new variations, because it has much to do with one's ideology. A reason for that might be that it´s much easier to create a stereotypical work without much depth than to show the complex inner lives of all protagonists and antagonists.

A la mañana siguiente, cuando despertó les contó lo que soñó: “Vi a un pálido estudiante de arte impías, de rodillas junto al ser que había ensamblado. Vi el horrendo fantasma de un hombre que estaba tendido, y luego, por obra de algún ingenio poderoso, manifestaba signos de vida y se agitaba con movimiento torpe y semivital…” Fue en abril, durante el verano del año 1816 en Villa Diodati, una localidad Ginebra que el más famoso y más romántico de los Románticos, el poeta inglés, Lord Byron, organizó un desafío literario para escribir el cuento más terrorífico que se les ocurriera, junto a su médico personal, John Polidori, el célebre poeta inglés Percy Bysshe Shelley y su amante, Mary Goodwin, quien más tarde se convertiría en su esposa y con nuevo apellido le daría chispa a la vida de la criatura más emblemática, conocida y arquetípica en la historia de la literatura: el monstruo creado por el científico Víctor Frankenstein. Mad scientists are certainly as old as time, although I can´t choose if a crazy priest vivisecting human sacrifices is cooler than a Star Wars/Trek antagonist letting robots and AI do all the dirty work. However, it often seems as if the creature, monster, or übermensch created was the truly terrible thing and not the people sponsoring this stuff. By contrasting this with the somewhat noble monster Shelley gives a Frankenstein starts to recover from his exertion; he sees in Walton the same obsession that has destroyed him and recounts a story of his life's miseries to Walton as a warning. Blah, blah, blah...his full-toned voice swells in my ears; his lustrous eyes dwell on me with all their melancholy sweetness...blah, blah, blah..."

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There is love in me the likes of which you've never seen. There is rage in me the likes of which should never escape. If I am not satisfied in the one, I will indulge the other.”