Frankenstein by Mary Shelley

Claire Reisberg, 10th Grade

All the best books are told in the form of a letter, written by the narrator to his sister, about a guy he met once on a ship who told him the story of something he did twenty years ago... Come on, of course not! But that is the exact framing of Frankenstein by Mary Shelley, a novel that is credited with founding the science fiction genre and has inspired countless movies, parodies, and adaptations. Despite its incredible success, Frankenstein was one of the most convoluted books that I have ever read -- the one good thing about it being that it's relatively short. My copy contained only an agonizing 267 pages.

As someone who's only real exposure to the world of Frankenstein was Mel Brooks' "Young Frankenstein" (if you haven't watched it, do -- it's hilarious!) I wasn't quite sure what to expect from the book. I knew a guy built a monster and things didn't really turn out well, but that was it. Frankenstein is deeply ingrained into our culture. It is important, yes, but does that mean we still have to read it?

For one, the characters are just really unlikable. Not unlikable in a cool antihero way but unlikable in a way that just makes me bored. Even the character that is supposed to be the personification of goodness, Elizabeth (Frankenstein's girlfriend/adopted sister) is just so lifeless. The characters don't seem like real people, just broad caricatures like the beautiful flawless woman, the tormented mad scientist, or the pure innocent child. I also have to admit, I'm not used to the language in Frankenstein. I do love books from that time, but it's just not how people talk anymore, and I'm not exposed to the language on a daily basis. I just think other books from that time period, like Pride and Prejudice (a book with some of the best burns in literary history), or The Picture of Dorian Grey, use language to bring ideas across in a much more entertaining way. The long rambling Frankenstein sentences kind of make me want to tune out. Take this one, "But I have one want which I have never yet been able to satisfy, and the absence of the object of which I now feel as a most severe evil, I have no friend, Margaret: when I am glowing with the enthusiasm of success, there will be none to participate my joy; if I am assailed by disappointment, no one will endeavour to sustain me in dejection." In this sentence it takes nearly four lines to say, "I want friends."

The sad thing is, I really wanted to like Frankenstein. Mostly because Mary Shelley was a really interesting person. I mean, she was a woman writing at a time when literature was dominated by men. Novel writing, however, was often derided as being a "woman's form" and she persevered beyond that as well, Frankenstein becoming a huge success. She kept going through so many hardships: the deaths of three of her children, intense illness, her mother's early passing. (Her mother, Mary Wollstonecraft, was super cool too: she was a women's rights activist, philosopher, and writer) So back to the first Mary. She wrote Frankenstein when she was only nineteen, on a miserable vacation, when she was challenged to write a ghost story. For days and days she couldn't think of anything to write (something deeply familiar to Hunter students being asked to write their first FLE) but when inspiration finally struck, she wrote a classic that is still famous over 200 years later. I was incredibly excited to start reading.

However, as soon as I reached the first page, I began to ask myself: is this the right book? The answer was, unfortunately, yes. To give a basic summary, Frankenstein meets this lonely sailor Robert on a boat in the middle of the Arctic Ocean and tells Robert about his life. How he made this monster, immediately regretted it, then proceeded to make a bunch of bad choices-- all while trying to get with his adopted sister.

While I've spent the last few paragraphs bashing Frankenstein, there were some things I liked. I did enjoy Shelley's insight into the mind of the cold, slightly self-absorbed letter-writer of the beginning-- even if I don't think that part was strictly necessary to the plot of the book. I also liked the chapters from the perspective of Frankenstein's monster. He had a really interesting point of view and his experiences tell us a lot about how the world treats those who are deemed different. The ethical questions brought up about our role as humans in this world were also interesting, and deeply depressing, to ponder. Like, when does science stop being experimentation and start being used as a way to satisfy man's ego and desire to play God? Or, are we responsible for our creations? And if so, to what extent? Where does our responsibility to each other begin and end? Additionally, the book is exceedingly relevant right now. It was the first science fiction novel, and who hasn't felt lately that the world has become a real life sci-fi storyline? Also, the topic of man vs. nature is relevant right now for obvious covid-related reasons. Plus, when I read the book this summer, (or was it in the spring? Maybe last year? Five years ago? What is time really?) I was bored. To an extent, I sympathized with Frankenstein. If I had thought of it, maybe I would have gone to a graveyard and attempted to reanimate a corpse to be my friend.

So, Frankenstein raises interesting philosophical dilemmas. It's just not fun to read. And as we reach the end of this review, what is the verdict, should you read Frankenstein? Well, I think books are about escape, about learning new things, seeing new places, and, most importantly, feeling something. While reading Frankenstein I didn't feel anything. We've all read the books or seen the movies: an edgy teen/lonely young man who thinks he's the cat's pajamas gets obsessed and does something terrible. That's basically Frankenstein. Except other books tell this story a lot better. I think we should read those.