Frankenstein, by Mary Shelley
Frankenstein
by Mary Shelley
166 pages (trade paperback)
Genre: Fiction/Horror/Literary/Gothic
No self-respecting English geek should ignore Mary Shelley's first and most famous novel, Frankenstein--billed originally as a horror piece but studied today purely on a "literary" level. The ostensible protagonist and namesake of the novel is Victor Frankenstein; however, the story at least equally concerns itself with Frankenstein's monster, a grotesque creation of science. As a lit geek, then, I found much to love: allusions, metonymy, layered narrative, dopplegangers, character foils at even the diction level. The characterization is by far Mary Shelley's strength.
For it is difficult to overlook her main weakness: prose. The writing clunks about like a knight in rusty armor, repetitive and flowery with too much "telling" so that the emotional impact of the characters' suffering is considerably lessened. Plot is predictable and clumsily foreshadowed; exaggerated emotions made me mentally roll my eyes more than once. And there is absolutely no voice distinction among the three first-person narrators (Robert Walton, Victor Frankenstein, and the monster). This last point irritated me the most, because I have a damn hard time believing that a created sentient being can acquire such overblown and formal facility with language after a few short years and no direct instruction.
Still, I don't regret reading Frankenstein (though it was required reading, in any case). In concept and character, Mary Shelley did show flashes of appreciable brilliance. I try my best to judge classics as literature rather than pleasure-reading; notably so far, only Pride and Prejudice has enthralled me by both standards.
by Mary Shelley
166 pages (trade paperback)
Genre: Fiction/Horror/Literary/Gothic
No self-respecting English geek should ignore Mary Shelley's first and most famous novel, Frankenstein--billed originally as a horror piece but studied today purely on a "literary" level. The ostensible protagonist and namesake of the novel is Victor Frankenstein; however, the story at least equally concerns itself with Frankenstein's monster, a grotesque creation of science. As a lit geek, then, I found much to love: allusions, metonymy, layered narrative, dopplegangers, character foils at even the diction level. The characterization is by far Mary Shelley's strength.
For it is difficult to overlook her main weakness: prose. The writing clunks about like a knight in rusty armor, repetitive and flowery with too much "telling" so that the emotional impact of the characters' suffering is considerably lessened. Plot is predictable and clumsily foreshadowed; exaggerated emotions made me mentally roll my eyes more than once. And there is absolutely no voice distinction among the three first-person narrators (Robert Walton, Victor Frankenstein, and the monster). This last point irritated me the most, because I have a damn hard time believing that a created sentient being can acquire such overblown and formal facility with language after a few short years and no direct instruction.
Still, I don't regret reading Frankenstein (though it was required reading, in any case). In concept and character, Mary Shelley did show flashes of appreciable brilliance. I try my best to judge classics as literature rather than pleasure-reading; notably so far, only Pride and Prejudice has enthralled me by both standards.