When I read Tambora The Little (Volcanic) Ice Age a few books back, it got me interested in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein and The Last Man. I couldn’t remember actually reading Frankenstein before and the most lasting memory I have of anything relating to the tale is Peter Boyle and Gene Wilder’s rendition of “Puttin’ in the Ritz”. So yeah, I had some work to do.
First of all, the flowery romantic prose took some getting used to since I have been reading a lot of Georges Simenon, that master of clear and concise yet imaginative prose. It took a while, but I settled into the groove of the thing, and really enjoyed seeing Geneva, the Alps and all of nature through this lens. The depictions of the storms and other wild natural events were informed by the knowledge gained from the previous book, and the oft-told tale of how Mary Shelley came up with this saga to entertain her friends one frightfully stormy winter on Lake Geneva. I had a great time with this book, and plan to read The Last Man soon (found a free kindle edition).
Told from three different perspectives and through the letters of one R. Walton, an arctic explorer, we learn that Victor, a favored son of the well-to-do Frankenstein’s, went off to Ingolstadt to study. He is sure that he can harness the knowledge of esoteric natural philosophers and create new life. After much trial and error, this he does, but he is so frightened and disgusted by what he has done, he hides from the creature and completely abandons him. You just know this cannot end well. With each passing moment and subsequent horror, I was hollering at the 
book, at Victor himself, that insufferable, spineless wanker. Seriously this guy was the worst. At every turn he depicted himself as the victim and threw himself into the most spectacular hissy fits and other assorted “poor, poor, pitiful me” tropes. As the creature takes those he loves from him, he still refuses to take full responsibility and pull his head out of his own ass. When the body count nears its zenith, his betrothed, Elizabeth, writes him a letter that intimates that she has seen his tortured disposition and will release him from his promise, if that is what would make him truly happy again. He answers that he does still want to marry her but that,
“I have one secret, Elizabeth, a dreadful one; when revealed to you, it will chill your frame with horror, and then, far from being surprised at my misery, you will only wonder that I survive what I have endured.”
Once again, it’s all about him (not the unfortunate and innocent dead) AND THEN…..he says he won’t reveal what that horror is until after the wedding!!! Are you kidding me?!?! Seriously, fuck that guy.
I teach this book and every year we marvel at how we are almost all so much “Team Creature” and how much we all despise Victor.
Not sure if you know or not, but Mary’s own life is tied into the book. Her father had very little to do with her after her mother’s death 2 weeks after birth as well as the loss of numerous children at birth or soon after.
I really love it and completely understand why Hollywood can’t get a story of longing for connectedness right. It doesn’t have pyrotechnics and the Creature isn’t actually super scary. He just wants to be loved and when he isn’t? He becomes more human than ever.
That is so interesting! The afterword of the edition I read mentioned how the book was in part about terrible parenting. I am firmly in Team Creature camp. Thanks for your thoughts!