Frankenstein by Mary Shelley

                                                     

                                                           Frankenstein by Mary Shelley

      As I sat down for the first time in forever to read Frankenstein, the apprehension of reading the play by play on how a mad scientist and his cohort created a monster was killing me. My realization that the media had been bombarding me with images of Boris Karloff  came quickly after reading the first few chapters. I found myself at first excited at the proposition of reading about the exploits of Victor until I discovered how much of a spoiled child of a man he truly was.  Rooting for Victor's Monster to commit a swift and expeditious removal and or  destruction of Frankenstein came quite easily and naturally.
     
      Victor Frankenstein in my opinion was truly the monster in this story. His self educated, wandering,    creation was the epitome of benevolence in the face of loneliness and starvation. His betrothed loved him and waited until worry aged her, while his father and best friend continually had to beg for his company. I think that Victor truly had everything given to him in a way that prevented him from being able to empathize with anyone who asked him for the slightest bit of selfless behavior. When the being that he so painstakingly took the time give the spark of life to, asked for the simplest of things, he looked for every reason to deny him. And for what? Victor had a small fortune, a doting father, an awesome friend and the best fiance he could've asked for save his mother taylor making an unparalleled match for him.  yet...Victor is too cowardly to give the the re-animated corpse that he spent so much time with and had so many hours invested in a chance at anything decent and can't even find the cojone's to exterminate the one thing that he claims has him so embittered.

       Reading how depressed and anguished Victor claimed to be when explainably nothing was wrong with him seemed to be an epic struggle for my brain to endure. I really didn't care for it for save the fact that it seemed to drive home a railroad spike of "Victor can't deal with responsibility". Reading however the take from the monsters point of view when presented with situations and obstacles is by far quite the opposite. The monster couldn't for one second get treated decently enough to even show his face, but yielded manners, earned his keep (even if no-one knew he was living among them) and attempted a rescue which only rewarded him with more suffering  (real suffering-not that Victor Frankenstein stuff).

      Ultimately I really would've liked to have read a more fitting end to Frankenstein than his creation murdering the people who for some reason liked and or loved him. It seemed like a senseless crime to systematically murder his family who'm Victor obviously cared very little for. He practically walked his wife to her grave after his confrontation with the monster who politely explained his exploits the last four of five years and asked that if Vic wouldn't do him the simple service of being his caretaker, that he grant him a female companion to love. Once again he proves to us that a spared rod spoiled the man and instead of honoring his promise to the monster to fulfill his request of companionship, destroys the companion zombie and runs off to get married.

I really liked the contrast overall of the theme "who's the bigger monster" or "who's the real monster" I think that those comparisons are what really made this story for me however, as far as being a book I would give a second read-not a chance. Victors complaining was too much for me to bear.