This really is the first time I've picked up the original Frankenstein, and it was not at all what I'd expected, not one bit. Years ago, I'd seen a couple movies based on this classic, but neither version had much resemblance to Mary Shelley's original story. One of the most vivid scenes I can remember seeing in the movies was of Frankenstein's monster being chased by a band of villagers with torches, out to destroy this deformed creature, but nothing of the sort ever happens in the book.

Mary Shelley's story is the tragedy of a life brought into existence without any regard for that life; Frankenstein's monster does not even possess a name, much less the compassion of any other being on earth.

This novel actually begins aboard a ship, with the lonely Captain Walton writing letters to his sister, lamenting his extreme lonliness and lack of friends aboard his vessel, when suddenly, he and his crew spy a stranded man adrift on an ice floe. After rescuing this man, Walton becomes enraptured with his tale. Walton's new companion is none other than Victor Frankenstein, and his tale of woe is told in flashback.

Frankenstein's dissertation is full of remorse and uncertainty. The lonely, angry being which Frankenstein has created has already caused pain and despair to his loved ones, and is now demanding a mate, and Frankenstein vacillates on the morality of such an action.

The plot is still a meaningful one, though the style of Shelley's prose can get tedious and at times seems overly verbose--But then, it was written in 1818.