200 years after publication was an appropriate anniversary to read Frankenstein for the first time. Leaving aside the elegance of early 19th century prose, what do I make of Mary Shelly's classic? It is a novel of unrelenting gloom, with a plot that lurches about like a well-lubricated drunk. All relationships are doomed to misery; all love is unrequited and all hopes dashed. On nearly every page you are assailed by gothic prose - precipices tower, rivers rage, winds shriek and icy cold pierces the flesh. Frankenstein, having created his monster is racked by torment, remorse, anguish, and dread, and that's on a good day! The main tale is narrated to a ship's captain but not before we've had a chapter or two of irrelevant back story of how the ship came to be in polar seas. The plot moves from scene to scene, with abrupt changes and poor connections. Mary Shelly was only 18 when she wrote Frankenstein and her immaturity shows in the unsatisfactory aspects of the book. Nevertheless she has conjured a startling tale that provokes questions about the responsibility of the creator towards his creation, and of man's thirst for knowledge and control over-riding the direction set by his moral compass.
Modern interpretation here: https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-12737956
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