frankenstein by mary shelley
type: book
"Victor Frankenstein, a young scientist, becomes obsessed with discovering the secret of life. He assembles a creature from various body parts and brings it to life. Horrified by his creation, Victor abandons it. The monster, intelligent and sensitive, is left to fend for itself and learns about the world, facing rejection and cruelty from society"
OK took me a few days but I'm finally writing a little review for this.
I obviously knew Frankenstein through a variety of films and books and artworks and whatnot but I never read the original novel. Now I have, and it has become so dear to me so quickly..
It makes me kind of sad how this story has been chewed up and regurgitated countless times, and how many adaptations have completely lost the essence of the novel in the process. At the same time, there’s a beauty to how this book has permeated pop culture in a way few books have or ever will. Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein you are eternal… orz
While the book is structured around a tale about the dangers of unchecked ambition and the pursuit of knowledge, it’s much more of a story about scientific and parental responsibility to me. It drives me mad that Victor dies without ever really grasping the extent of his failures as a creator and father to his creature. But it also makes perfect sense for him to selfishly misinterpret the creature’s feelings until the end and fail it even in death. Just the worst guy ever.
I guess this entire theme really struck a chord with me because it can so easily be projected onto the transgender experience. someone so othered and internally convinced to be a perversion of nature is quick to identify in the creature’s misery. when shown no love, not even by its own creator, all the creature can do is reciprocate hatred and prejudice onto itself and others..
Also a funny thing I have noticed is that I tend to pick up on the language and writing style of books I liked. So if I suddenly start to sound more Old English it's because Shelley's prose has wedged itself deeply inside my brain and I can't help replicating it.
Life, although it may only be an accumulation of anguish, is dear to me, and I will defend it.