Frankenstein o el moderno Prometeo: Biblioteca de Grandes Escritores

Por Mary Shelley

Ebook con un sumario dinámico y detallado: Frankenstein o el moderno Prometeo, o simplemente Frankenstein es una obra literaria de la escritora inglesa Mary Shelley. Publicado en 1818 y enmarcado en la tradición de la novela gótica, el texto explora temas tales como la moral científica, la creación y destrucción de vida y la audacia de la humanidad en su relación con Dios. De ahí, el subtítulo de la obra: el protagonista intenta rivalizar en poder con Dios, como una suerte de Prometeo moderno que arrebata el fuego sagrado de la vida a la divinidad. Es considerado como el primer texto del género ciencia ficción.

• Idioma: Español
• Editorial: IberiaLiteratura
• Fecha de lanzamiento: 10 abr 2015
• ISBN: 9783959280921

Mary Shelley

Mary Shelley (1797-1851) was an English novelist. Born the daughter of William Godwin, a novelist and anarchist philosopher, and Mary Wollstonecraft, a political philosopher and pioneering feminist, Shelley was raised and educated by Godwin following the death of Wollstonecraft shortly after her birth. In 1814, she began her relationship with Romantic poet Percy Bysshe Shelley, whom she would later marry following the death of his first wife, Harriet. In 1816, the Shelleys, joined by Mary’s stepsister Claire Clairmont, physician and writer John William Polidori, and poet Lord Byron, vacationed at the Villa Diodati near Geneva, Switzerland. They spent the unusually rainy summer writing and sharing stories and poems, and the event is now seen as a landmark moment in Romanticism. During their stay, Shelley composed her novel Frankenstein (1818), Byron continued his work on Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage (1812-1818), and Polidori wrote “The Vampyre” (1819), now recognized as the first modern vampire story to be published in English. In 1818, the Shelleys traveled to Italy, where their two young children died and Mary gave birth to Percy Florence Shelley, the only one of her children to survive into adulthood. Following Percy Bysshe Shelley’s drowning death in 1822, Mary returned to England to raise her son and establish herself as a professional writer. Over the next several decades, she wrote the historical novel Valperga (1923), the dystopian novel The Last Man (1826), and numerous other works of fiction and nonfiction. Recognized as one of the core figures of English Romanticism, Shelley is remembered as a woman whose tragic life and determined individualism enabled her to produce essential works of literature which continue to inform, shape, and inspire the horror and science fiction genres to this day.

Vista previa del libro

1818

índice

Frankenstein o el moderno Prometeo

VOLUMEN I

PRÓLOGO

CARTA 1

CARTA 2

CARTA 3

CARTA 4

CAPÍTULO 1

CAPÍTULO 2

CAPÍTULO 3

CAPÍTULO 4

CAPÍTULO 5

CAPÍTULO 6

CAPÍTULO 7

VOLUMEN II

CAPÍTULO 1

CAPÍTULO 2

CAPÍTULO 3

CAPÍTULO 4

CAPÍTULO 5

CAPÍTULO 6

CAPÍTULO 7

CAPÍTULO 8

CAPÍTULO 9

VOLUMEN III

CAPÍTULO 1

CAPÍTULO 2

CAPÍTULO 3

CAPÍTULO 4

CAPÍTULO 5

CAPÍTULO 6

CAPÍTULO 7

PROSIGUE LA NARRACIÓN DE WALTON

VOLUMEN I

PRÓLOGO

El suceso en el cual se fundamenta este relato imaginario ha sido considerado por el doctor Darwin y otros fisiólogos alemanes como no del todo imposible. En modo alguno quisiera que se suponga que otorgo el mínimo grado de credibilidad a semejantes fantasías; sin embargo, al tomarlo como base de una obra fruto de la imaginación, no considero haberme limitado simplemente a enlazar, unos con otros, una serie de terrores de índole sobrenatural. El hecho que hace despertar el interés por la historia está exento de las desventajas de un simple relato de fantasmas o encantamientos. Me vino sugerido por la novedad de las situaciones que desarrolla, y, por muy imposible que parezca como hecho físico, ofrece para la imaginación, a la hora de analizar las pasiones humanas, un punto de vista más comprensivo y autorizado que el que puede proporcionar el relato corriente de acontecimientos reales. Así pues, me he esforzado por mantener la veracidad de los elementales principios de la naturaleza humana, a la par que no he sentido escrúpulos a la hora de hacer innovaciones en cuanto a su combinación. La Ilíada, el poema trágico de Grecia; Shakespeare en La tempestad y El sueño de una noche de verano; y sobre todo Milton en El paraíso perdido se ajustan a esta regla. Así pues, el más humilde novelista que intente proporcionar o recibir algún deleite con sus esfuerzos puede, sin presunción, emplear en su narrativa una licencia, o, mejor dicho, una regla, de cuya adopción tantas exquisitas combinaciones de sentimientos humanos han dado como fruto los mejores ejemplos de poesía.

La circunstancia en la cual se basa mi relato me fue sugerida en una conversación trivial. Lo comencé en parte como diversión y en parte como pretexto para ejercitar cualquier recurso de mi mente que aún tuviera intacto. A medida que avanzaba la obra, otros motivos se fueron añadiendo a éstos. En modo alguno me siento indiferente ante cómo puedan afectar al lector los principios morales que existan en los sentimientos o caracteres que contiene la obra. Sin embargo, mi principal preocupación en este punto se ha centrado en la eliminación de los efectos enervantes de las novelas de hoy en día, y en exponer la bondad del amor familiar, así como la excelencia de la virtud universal. Las opiniones que lógicamente surgen del carácter y situación del héroe en modo alguno deben considerarse siempre como convicciones mías; ni se debe extraer de las páginas que siguen conclusión alguna que prejuicie ninguna doctrina filosófica del tipo que fuera.

Es además de gran interés para la autora el hecho de que esta historia se comenzara en la majestuosa región donde se desarrolla la obra principalmente, y rodeada de personas cuya ausencia no cesa de lamentar. Pasé el verano de 1816 en los alrededores de Ginebra. La temporada era fría y lluviosa, y por las noches nos agrupábamos en torno a la chimenea. Ocasionalmente nos divertíamos con historias alemanas de fantasmas, que casualmente caían en nuestras manos. Aquellas narraciones despertaron en nosotros un deseo juguetón de emularlos. Otros dos amigos (cualquier relato de la pluma de uno de ellos resultaría bastante más grato para el lector que nada de lo que yo jamás pueda aspirar a crear) y o nos comprometimos a escribir un cuento cada uno, basado en algún acontecimiento sobrenatural.

Sin embargo, el tiempo de repente mejoró, y mis dos amigos partieron de viaje hacia los Alpes donde olvidaron, en aquellos magníficos parajes, cualquier recuerdo de sus espectrales visiones. El relato que sigue es el único que se termino .

CARTA 1

A la señora SAVILLE, Inglaterra

San Petersburgo, 11 de diciembre de 17…

Te alegrarás de saber que ningún percance ha acompañado el comienzo de la empresa que tú contemplabas con tan malos presagios. Llegué aquí ayer, y mi primera obligación es tranquilizar a mi querida hermana sobre mi bienestar y comunicarle mi creciente confianza en el éxito de mi empresa.

Me encuentro ya muy al norte de Londres, y andando por las calles de Petersburgo noto en las mejillas una fría brisa norteña que azuza mis nervios j me llena de alegría. ¿Entiendes este sentimiento? Esta brisa, que viene de aquellas regiones hacia las que yo me dirijo, me anticipa sus climas helados. Animado por este viento prometedor, mis esperanzas se hacen más fervientes y reales. Intento en vano convencerme de que el Polo es la morada del hielo y la desolación. Sigo imaginándomelo como la región de la hermosura y el deleite. Allí, Margaret, se ve siempre el sol, su amplio círculo rozando justo el horizonte y difundiendo un perpetuo resplandor. Allí pues con tu permiso, hermana mía, concederé un margen de confíanza a anteriores navegantes, allí, no existen ni la nieve ni el hielo y navegando por un mar sereno se puede arribar a una tierra que supera, en maravillas y hermosura, cualquier región descubierta hasta el momento en el mundo habitado. Puede que sus productos y paisaje no tengan precedente, como sin duda sucede con los fenómenos de los cuerpos celestes de esas soledades inexploradas. ¿Hay algo que pueda sorprender en un país donde la luz es eterna? Puede que allí encuentre la maravillosa fuerza que mueve la brújula; podría incluso llegar a comprobar mil observaciones celestes que requieren sólo este viaje para deshacer para siempre sus aparentes contradicciones. Saciaré mi ardiente curiosidad viendo una parte del mundo jamás hasta ahora visitada y pisaré una tierra donde nunca antes ha dejado su huella el hombre. Estos son mis señuelos, y son suficientes para vencer todo temor al peligro o a la muerte e inducirme a emprender este laborioso viaje con el placer que siente un niño cuando se embarca en un bote con sus compañeros de vacaciones para explorar su río natal. Pero, suponiendo que todas estas conjeturas fueran falsas, no puedes negar el inestimable bien que podré transmitir a toda la humanidad, hasta su última generación, al descubrir, cerca del Polo, una ruta hacia aquellos países a los que actualmente se tarda muchos meses en llegar; o al desvelar el secreto del imán, para lo cual, caso de que esto sea posible, sólo se necesita de una empresa como la mía.

Estos pensamientos han disipado la agitación con la que empecé mi carta y siento arder mi corazón con un entusiasmo que me transporta; nada hay que tranquilice tanto la mente como un propósito claro, una meta en la cual el alma pueda fiar su aliento intelectual. Esta expedición ha sido el sueño predilecto de mis años jóvenes. Apasionadamente he leído los relatos de los diversos viajes que se han hecho con el propósito de llegar al Océano Pacífico Norte a través de los mares que rodean el Polo. Quizá recuerdes que la totalidad de la biblioteca de nuestro buen tío Thomas se reducía a una historia de todos los viajes realizados con fines exploradores. Mi educación estuvo un poco descuidada, pero fui un lector empedernido. Estudiaba estos volúmenes día y noche y, al familiarizarme con ellos, aumentaba el pesar que sentí cuando, de niño, supe que la última voluntad de mi padre en su lecho de muerte prohibía a mi tío que me permitiera seguir la vida de marino.

Aquellas visiones se desvanecieron cuando entré en contacto por primera vez con aquellos poetas cuyos versos llenaron mi alma y la elevaron al cielo. Me convertí en poeta también y viví durante un año en un paraíso de mi propia creación; me imaginé que yo también podría obtener un lugar allí donde se veneran los nombres de Homero y Shakespeare. Tú estás bien al corriente de mi fracaso y de cuán amargo fue para mí este desengaño. Pero justo entonces heredé la fortuna de mi primo, y mis pensamientos retornaron a su antiguo cauce.

Han pasado seis años desde que decidí llevar a cabo la presente empresa. Incluso ahora puedo recordar el momento preciso en el que decidí dedicarme a esta gran labor. Empecé por acostumbrar mi cuerpo a la privación. Acompañé a los balleneros en varias expediciones al mar del Norte y voluntariamente sufrí frío, hambre, sed y sueño. A menudo trabajé más durante el día que cualquier marinero, mientras dedicaba las noches al estudio de las matemáticas, la teoría de la Medicina y aquellas ramas de las ciencias físicas que pensé serían de mayor utilidad práctica para un aventurero del mar. En dos ocasiones me enrolé como segundo de a bordo en un ballenero de Groenlandia y ambas veces salí con éxito. Debo reconocer que me sentí orgulloso cuando el capitán me ofreció el puesto de piloto en el barco y me pidió reiteradamente que me quedara ya que tanto apreciaba mis servicios.

Y ahora, querida Margaret, ¿no merezco llevar a cabo alguna gran empresa? Podía haber pasado mi vida rodeado de lujo y comodidad, pero he preferido la gloria a cualquiera de los placeres que me pudiera proporcionar la riqueza. ¡Si tan sólo una voz, alentadora me respondiera afirmativamente! Mi valor y mi resolución son firmes, pero mis esperanzas fluctúan y mi ánimo se deprime con frecuencia. Estoy a punto de emprender un largo y difícil viaje, cuyas vicisitudes exigirán de mí todo mi valor. Se me pide no sólo que levante el ánimo de otros, sino que conserve mi entereza cuando ellos flaqueen.

Esta es la época más favorable para viajar por Rusia. Vuelan sobre la nieve en sus trineos; el movimiento es agradable y, a mi modo de ver, mucho más cómodo que el de los coches de caballos ingleses. El frío no es extremado, si vas envuelto en pieles, atuendo que yo ya he adoptado. Hay una gran diferencia entre andar por la cubierta y permanecer sentado, inmóvil durante horas, sin hacer el ejercicio que impediría que la sangre se te hiele materialmente en las venas. ¡No tengo la intención de perder la vida en la ruta entre San Petersburgo y Arkángel.

Partiré hacia esta última ciudad dentro de dos o tres semanas, y pienso fletar allí un barco, cosa que me será fácil si le pago el seguro al dueño; también contrataré cuantos marineros considere precisos de entre los que están acostumbrados a ir en balleneros. No pienso navegar hasta el mes de Junio; y en cuanto a mi regreso, querida hermana, ¿cómo responder a esta pregunta? Si tengo éxito, pasarán muchos, muchos meses, incluso años, antes de que tú y yo nos volvamos a encontrar. Si fracaso, me verás o muy pronto, o nunca.

Hasta la vista, mi querida y excelente Margaret. Que el cielo te envíe todas las bendiciones y a mí me proteja para que pueda atestiguarte una y otra vez mi gratitud por todo tu amor y tu bondad.

Tu afectuoso hermano,

ROBERT WALTON.

CARTA 2

A la señora SAVILLE, Inglaterra

Arkángel, 28 de marzo de 17…

¡Qué despacio pasa aquí el tiempo, rodeado como estoy de nieve y hielo! Sin embargo, he dado ya un segundo paso hacia la realización de mi empresa. He fletado un barco y estoy ocupado en reunir la tripulación; los que ya he contratado parecen hombres en quienes puedo confiar e indudablemente están dotados de invencible valor.

Tengo, empero, un deseo aún por satisfacer y este vacío me acucia ahora de manera terrible. No tengo amigo alguno, Margaret; cuando arda con el entusiasmo del éxito, no habrá nadie que comparta mi alegría; si soy víctima del desaliento, nadie se esforzará por disipar mi desánimo. Podré plasmar mis pensamientos en el papel, cierto, pero es un pobre medio para comunicar los sentimientos. Añoro la compañía de un hombre que pudiera compenetrarse conmigo, cuya mirada respondiera a la mía. Me puedes tachar de romántico, querida hermana, pero echo muy en falta a un amigo. No tengo a nadie cerca que sea tranquilo a la vez que valeroso, culto y capaz, cuyos gustos se parezcan a los míos, que pueda aprobar o corregir mis proyectos. ¡Qué bien enmendaría un amigo así los fallos de tu pobre hermano! Soy demasiado impulsivo en la ejecución y demasiado impaciente con los obstáculos. Pero aún me resulta más nocivo el hecho de haberme autoeducado. Durante los primeros catorce años de mi vida corrí por los campos como un salvaje, y no leí nada salvo los libros de viajes de nuestro tío Thomas. A esa edad empecé a familiarizarme con los renombrados poetas de nuestra patria. Pero no vi la necesidad de aprender otras lenguas que la mía hasta que no estaba en mi poder el sacar los máximos beneficios de esta convicción. Tengo ahora veintiocho años, y en realidad soy más inculto que muchos colegiales de quince. Es cierto que he reflexionado más, y que mis sueños son más ambiciosos y magníficos, pero carecen de equilibrio (como dicen los pintores). Me hace mucha falta un amigo que tuviera el suficiente sentido común como para no despreciarme por romántico y que me estimara lo bastante como para intentar ordenar mi mente.

Bien, son éstas lamentaciones vanas; sé que no encontraré amigo alguno en el vasto océano, ni siquiera aquí, en Arkángel, entre mercaderes y hombres de mar. Sin embargo, incluso en estos rudos corazones laten algunos sentimientos, extraños a la escoria de la naturaleza humana. Mi lugarteniente, por ejemplo, es un hombre de enorme valor e iniciativa, empecinado en su afán de gloria. Es inglés, y, aunque lleno de prejuicios nacionales y profesionales, jamás limados por la educación, retiene algunas de las más preciosas cualidades humanas. Lo conocí a bordo de un ballenero, y, al saber que se encontraba en esta ciudad sin trabajo, no tuve ninguna dificultad para persuadirlo de que me ayudara en mi aventura.

El capitán es una persona de excelente disposición y muy querido en el barco por su amabilidad y flexibilidad en la disciplina. Tanta es la bondad de su naturaleza, que no quiere calar (deporte favorito aquí) casi la única diversión, porque no soporta derramar sangre. Es además de una heroica generosidad. Hace algunos años se enamoró de una joven rusa de familia relativamente acomodada; tras hacerse con una considerable fortuna por la captura de navíos enemigos, el padre de la joven dio su consentimiento al matrimonio. Él vio a su prometida una vez antes de la ceremonia. Bañada en lágrimas, se le arrojó a los pies, y le suplicó la perdonara, a la vez que le confesaba su amor por otro hombre con el cual su padre nunca consentiría que se casara, ya que carecía de fortuna. Mi desprendido amigo tranquilizó a la suplicante muchacha y, en cuanto supo el nombre de su amado, abandonó al instante su galanteo. Había ya comprado con su dinero una granja, en la cual pensaba pasar el resto de su vida, pero se la cedió a su rival, junto con el resto de su fortuna, para que pudiera comprar algunas reses. El mismo solicitó del padre de la joven el consentimiento para la boda, mas el anciano se negó considerándose en deuda de honor con mi amigo, el cual, al ver al padre en actitud tan inflexible, abandonó el país para no regresar hasta saber que su antigua novia se había casado con el hombre a quien amaba. «¡Qué persona tan noble!», exclamarás sin duda, y así es, pero desgraciadamente ha pasado toda su vida a bordo de un barco y apenas tiene idea de algo que no sean las maromas y los obenques.

Mas no pienses que el que me queje un poco, o crea que quizá nunca llegue a conocer el consuelo para mi tristeza, signifique que titubeo en mi decisión. Esta es tan firme como el destino mismo, y mi viaje se ve retrasado tan sólo porque espero un tiempo favorable que me permita zarpar. El invierno ha sido tremendamente duro; pero la primavera promete ser buena e incluso parece que se adelantará, de modo que quizá pueda hacerme a la mar antes de lo previsto. No actuaré con precipitación; me conoces lo suficientemente bien como para fiarte de mi prudencia y moderación cuando tengo confiada la seguridad de otros.

No puedo describirte la emoción que tengo ante la proximidad del comienzo de mi empresa. Es imposible transmitirte una idea de la tremenda emoción, mezcla de agrado y de temor, con la cual me dispongo a partir. Marcho hacia lugares inexplorados, hacia «la región de la brumas la nieve», pero no mataré a ningún albatros, así que no temas por mi suerte.

¿Te encontraré de nuevo, tras cruzar inmensos mares y rodear los cabos de Africa o América?,No me atrevo a esperar tal éxito, y no obstante no puedo soportar la idea del fracaso.

Continúa aprovechando toda oportunidad de escribirme; puede que reciba tus cartas (si bien hay pocas esperanzas) cuando más las necesite para animarme. Te quiero mucho. Recuérdame con afecto si no vuelves a saber de mí.

Tu afectuoso hermano,

ROBERT WALTON

CARTA 3

A la señora SAVILLE, Inglaterra

7 de julio de 17…

Mi querida hermana:

Te escribo con premura unas líneas para decirte que estoy bien y que mi viaje está muy avanzado. Te llegará esta carta por un buque mercante que regresa a casa desde Ankángel; es más afortunado que yo, que puede que no vea mi patria en muchos años. Sin embargo, estoy animado; mis hombres son valerosos y parecen tener una firme voluntad. No les desaniman ni siquiera las capas de hielo que constantemente flotan a nuestro lado, presagio de los peligros que alberga la región hacia la cual nos dirigimos. Ya hemos alcanzado una latitud muy alta, pero estamos en pleno verano, y, aunque la temperatura es menos alta que en Inglaterra, los vientos del sur, que nos empujan velozmente hacia las costas que ansío ver, traen consigo un alentador grado de calor que no había esperado.

Hasta el momento no nos ha acaecido ningún incidente que merezca la pena contar. Un par de ventiscas fuertes y la ruptura de un mástil son accidentes que navegantes avezados apenas si recordarían. Yo me encontraré satisfecho si nada peor nos acontece durante el viaje.

Adiós, querida Margaret. Estáte tranquila, pues tanto por mi bien como por el tuyo no afrontaré peligros innecesariamente. Permaneceré sereno, perseverante y prudente.

Mis saludos a mis amigos ingleses.

Tuyo afectísimo,

ROBERT WALTON

CARTA 4

A la señora SAV1LLE, Inglaterra

5 de agosto de 17…

Nos ha ocurrido un accidente tan extraño, que no puedo dejar de anotarlo, si bien es muy probable que me veas antes de que estos papeles lleguen a tus manos.

El lunes pasado (31 de julio) nos hallábamos rodeados por el hielo, que cercaba el barco por todos los lados, dejándonos apenas el agua precisa para continuar a flote. Nuestra situación era algo peligrosa, sobre todo porque nos envolvía una espesa niebla. Decidimos, por tanto, permanecer al pairo con la esperanza de que adviniera algún cambio en la atmósfera y el tiempo. Hacia las dos de la tarde, la niebla levantó y observamos, extendiéndose en todas direcciones, inmensas e irregulares capas de hielo que parecían no tener fin. Algunas de mis compañeros lanzaron un gemido, y yo mismo empezaba a intranquilizarme, cuando de pronto una insólita imagen acaparó nuestra atención y distrajo nuestros pensamientos de la situación en la que nos encontrábamos. Como a media milla y en dirección al norte vimos un vehículo de poca altura, sujeto a un trineo y tirado por perros. Un ser de apariencia humana, pero de gigantesca estatura, iba sentado en el trineo y dirigía los perros. Observamos con el catalejo el rápido avance del viajero hasta que se perdió entre los lejanos montículos de hielo.

Esta visión provocó nuestro total asombro. Nos creíamos a muchas millas de cualquier tierra, pero esta aparición parecía demostrar que en realidad no nos encontrábamos tan lejos como suponíamos. Pero, cercados como estábamos por el hielo, era imposible seguir el rastro de aquel hombre al que habíamos observado con la mayor atención.

Unas dos horas después de esto oímos

Comentarios para Frankenstein o el moderno Prometeo

[moniquesnyman-1 · Calificación: 5 de 5 estrellas]

A classic isn't a called a classic because it's a run-of-the-mill type of book. It's a groundbreaking novel/movie/song that inspires people and stays with you forever, and it's likely that it won't be topped in one, two or sometimes three generations. A classic is a classic because it's unique, and Mary Shelley's Frankenstein is definitely a classic. The prose is beautiful, the story is gripping and the book itself is absolutely breathtaking. As far as horror is concerned, this is one of those must-have classics that you can revisit every couple of years.

But we all know the story about Frankenstein and the monster he creates out of body parts. We all know who Igor is and what happens in the end, I mean, if you haven't read the book then you've probably watched one of the movies, right? So, instead of going on and on about the plot we all know about, I'm going to talk about the beautiful book. Seriously, this is one super pretty book. It's in Penguin Books' horror series, recently brought out for horror fans that includes five other fantastic titles (American Supernatural Tales was one of them). This is one pretty edition for one creepy tale ... in other words, you'll freaking love it if you have a thing for horror books. Also, I'm pretty sure it'll be a collectors edition in the not-so-distant future.

If that doesn't appeal to you, and you need a little something extra, rest assured that I can sweeten the pot for those folks on the edge. Guillermo Del Toro is the series' editor and there's a nice little introduction by him. Yes, he's not all movies all the time, sometimes this horror director makes time for books too!

So, yes it's pretty, yes it's a great edition and yes, the editing is great. As far as I'm concerned you can donate your other editions of Frankenstein to the less fortunate, because this one just looks so much better on a bookshelf.

[cindywho-1 · Calificación: 3 de 5 estrellas]

This is another one I'd just never gotten around to reading. The story is far from what popular culture has made of it (I confess I was most familiar with the Young Frankenstein version) The monster is much more vocal and interesting. Victor is kind of a weenie and it's all a bit overwrought. I listened to the audiobook from the classic tales podcast and the narrator was pretty good, obviously enjoying all the "begone!s" and "wretchs"

[dalepeters_1 · Calificación: 2 de 5 estrellas]

Disappointing, especially for such a highly regarded "classic". 5% action, 95% describing how everyone *feels* about what just happened.

[reading_fox · Calificación: 2 de 5 estrellas]

Seminal fantasy work, one of the early defining books of fantasy genre. Shame it isn't more readable though I suspect that's just my more modern tastes.

[ladycalamity · Calificación: 5 de 5 estrellas]

Amazing book. It's so much more than I thought it would be. Very interesting!

[aseikonia · Calificación: 5 de 5 estrellas]

This is the second or third time I've read this and it's just as marvelous as before. A tale within a tale within a tale by a literary mastermind at the height of her genius.

[maddi-815887 · Calificación: 5 de 5 estrellas]

It's a wonderful, intense and superbly written novel.Don't be afraid to read it even if you don't like the genre.

[maryh10000 · Calificación: 5 de 5 estrellas]

Considered by many to be the first science fiction novel.

[ladypembroke · Calificación: 3 de 5 estrellas]

I have thought, but this being a classic piece of literature, I'm not going to write them down for posterity. That never served me well in lit classes, and I don't foresee it going well on the internet.

[deusxmachina-1 · Calificación: 3 de 5 estrellas]

I love this book so much more than any of the movie adaptations I've ever seen (actually, for anyone seeking horror and thrill in a story, this may be a huge disappointment), but in comparison to other novels of that genre and time period it's far from being flawless.I love the ideas in this story - the idea that one has to take responsibility for their creations, the idea that a being can be as gentle and good as a lamb, it will inevitably become a monster if it experiences nothing but rejection, the idea that just because something is scientifically possible doesn't mean that it should be done. Despite all the Romantic dressing up in this novel that makes it very clearly a product of its age, these premises are still modern and relevant.My gripe is with the characters. I'm aware that this is probably the 21st century reader in me, but - gods almighty, that Victor is a pathetic, self-absorbed piece of selfpity, full of "woe is me", much more fixated on his own emotions and tragic history than on the danger he has released carelessly on the world and without much reflection about his own role in this disaster. All his relationships seem shallow and superficial, and the only woman with a meaningful role in the story gets classically fridged to give him the final push.One day I'll have to read an adaptation from the wretch's point of view. His actions, reactions and justifications seem so much more interesting than Victor's.

[mdabril · Calificación: 5 de 5 estrellas]

Frankenstein is one of my all-time favorite books, but it's important to understand why people like my enjoy it. If you haven't read the book, it may not be what you think.I love Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley. To be clear, she is not the best author ever. Some aspects of her writing are a little juvenile and at times ever downright boring. Even though she herself was a woman, her female characters tend to be somewhat shallow and idealistic. Nevertheless, Shelley has a unique and gifted mind that is almost even prophetic in character. Her novel "The Last Man," for example, is one of the first to imagine the extinction of the human race, which is now a real possibility and an important area of thought. Similarly, Frankenstein is not altogether novel, since it builds heavily on earlier Romantic language, concepts, and images especially from Goethe and Mary's husband Percy Shelley. Nevertheless, she outdoes them by imagining in a prophetic way what the technological creation of new life could mean for the human person.With this in mind, let's be clear that Frankenstein is NOT a scary book, NOT about some dim-witted or pathetic monster, and NOT a source of cheap chills and thrills. It is first and foremost about the scientist who creates the monster. He does so out of a genius that unites both modern science and premodern thinking. Specifically how he makes the monster is beside the point; Shelley is secretive on this matter so that we do not get lost. It is not evident, for example, that he makes it from corpses; he uses corpses for study, but he seems to fashion the monster directly.The principle point of the book, therefore, is the emotion of Frankenstein as he comes to terms with his own creation. That which he fashioned to be beautiful, wonderful, superior to humanity turns out in fact to be hideous, ugly, and terrifying. The monster is superior to his maker in intelligence and power but not morality, and this forces Frankenstein to face his own unworthiness as a creator.Thus while Frankenstein the book is born out of Romantic ideas about the genius, the excellence of humanity, and the transcendence of the Promethean man--the one who dares to challenge the gods by taking upon himself the act of creation--it also profoundly serves as a counterpoint to the same Romantic spirit. This new Prometheus turns out to be a mere, weak man, who cannot quite come to terms with what he has created. Thus like her book "The Last Man," Shelley poses a vital question: Is humanity really still the gem of creation, or will the transcending force of nature ultimately leave us behind in the dust from whence we came?Frankenstein is thus a book that every reader of English should engage at some time. It would help, however, to have some familiarity with Romanticism (see an encyclopedia) and to spend some time reading some poems by other Romantic writers such as Percy Shelley. A brief look into Mary Wollstonecraft's Shelley biography might help as well, since I would argue that she is deeply shaped by the continual tragedies of her life, including the loss of her mother at an early age and a complex relationship with her father.

[jalenv_2 · Calificación: 4 de 5 estrellas]

My sympathies are with the monster. Victor von Frankenstein was a responsibility-avoiding, self-absorbed jerk!

[jonfaith · Calificación: 4 de 5 estrellas]

As an eight year old child, I found myself in love with horror films. It was a Scholastic Press survey of horror cinema for children which appeared to crystallize this fascination. It was terrible time for a kid. We had moved twice in four years and my mom had left. My dad was traveling for work and a series of housekeepers and sitters were keeping the home fires burning. It is no surprise that I was reading all the time and staying up too late watching inappropriate films on television. That said, I was never drawn to Frankenstein.

The father of some neighborhood friends used to proclaim the superiority of all the Universal films, especially to the hyper-gore films of the late 70s. I could agree with Bela Lugosi or Claude Rains (as the Invisible Man) but I wasn't moved by Lon Cheney Jr's Wolf Man or the lump of clay which was Frankenstein's monster. It remains elusive to distinguish.

It was with muted hopes that I finally read Frankenstein this past week. I was pleasantly surprised by the rigid plot which slowly shifts, allowing the Madness of the Fallen to Reap Vengeance on the Creator (and vice versa). Sure, it is laden with symbols and encoded thoughts on Reason, Science and Class. Frankenstein remains an engaging novel by a teenager, one doomed by fate. It is prescient and foreboding. Highly recommended.

[kellyholmes-1 · Calificación: 4 de 5 estrellas]

A chilling tale! I read this in high school, which was a while ago, but even thinking about it now gives me the creeps.

[drardavis · Calificación: 5 de 5 estrellas]

Despite its 19th century style and vocabulary this story still horrifies, partly because the gruesome details are left to the imagination. Victor Frankenstein does not reveal how he reanimates the creature. Stephen King would have spent several bloody chapters arranging the guts and brains and eyeballs. The motion picture image of the creature is only supported by Shelley’s description of the watery yellow eyes and the straight black lips. The pearly white teeth, lustrous flowing black hair, limbs in proportion, and beautiful features give a more godlike aspect to the monster. The violence is barely described. A dead body with finger prints on its throat. An execution. Some screams and sticks and stones to drive the creature out of a cottage. Even the death of Victor’s fiancee is but a muffled scream in a distant bedroom and a body on the bed. The true horror is symbolic, mythical, ethical, and metaphysical. Mary Shelley describes the consequences of hubris in prose while her husband gives a similar image poetically in Ozymandias. “Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair.”

[faith_murri · Calificación: 4 de 5 estrellas]

Beware; for I am fearless, and therefore powerful.
I have to admit, I was somewhat weary of this book. Despite its short page count, it is very wordy and has long, large paragraphs, and that made the prospect of reading this rather daunting. However, I swallowed my pride and did it, and was greatly rewarded.

I do know that for the sympathy of one living being, I would make peace with all. I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other.
Frankenstein and his creature are both so interesting and complex; they're also both so pitiful. So much of their anguish and sorrow could have been avoided if not for human pride. They are both agents of horror and destruction in both action and inaction, and that made for a really interesting story.

Besides that, it's extremely quotable.

Life, although it may only be an accumulation of anguish, is dear to me, and I will defend it.
I was amazed at how Hollywood has continuously gotten the story wrong, so much so that this book felt entirely unique and the twists were effective. I don't know whether I should scorn or love Hollywood for their utter failure to accurately adapt this book into a faithful film. On one hand, this book deserves a great movie. On the other, the plot integrity of a very old book was maintained. The television show Penny Dreadful had a Frankenstein story line that was remarkably close to the source material considering, and the few big changes it made were justified in the larger story.

I was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend. Make me happy, and I shall again be virtuous.
The themes in this were amazing! I love complex characters and dark, ambiguous morality in my literature. To be completely honest, I sympathized with Frankenstein way more than the monster, which I hadn't thought I would going into it. I loved both characters though.

Overall, it's a great book with an awesome story, and everyone should read it.

[solitaryfossil · Calificación: 5 de 5 estrellas]

Why did I wait so long to read this? An excellent novel and highly recommended. Wonderful.

[aspirit-1 · Calificación: 2 de 5 estrellas]

I didn't finish this story, perhaps because I'd tired of Victorian/Gothic fiction by the time I'd started reading this novel. Perhaps, it was because I hadn't expected a frame story about how the hedonistic Dr. Frankenstein created a person on whim, abandoned him, and refused to take responsibility even as his creation showed an infantile inability to move on from his traumatic rebirth without guidance.

Half-way through the story, I was rooting for someone to shove the doctor off a cliff and help Frankenstein's monster to become a self-sufficient man. I doubt the end is that cheerful.

There is a strong possibility that this story can be a trigger from adults who'd suffered neglect and abandonment in childhood. I appreciate that Shelley wrote a story that can elicit strong emotions through its plot, but it was too difficult to continue at times. I felt that too much of the story was told from Dr. Frankenstein's point of view (POV), making the section from the unnamed monster's POV more painful.

One day, I'll try reading all the way through with different expectations.

[msf59 · Calificación: 4 de 5 estrellas]

It has taken me decades, but I finally read this classic horror novel. I have no excuse for the procrastination, but it turned out to be a nice surprise because it is much different from the movies, we are so familiar with. The films and vampire lore surrounding Dracula, seem to have followed closely to that novel, but Shelley's Frankenstein is a much more philosophical exploration, asking big questions about nature, mankind and our different responsibilities to each. This is even more impressive if you consider that the author was only eighteen when she wrote it. If you are still perched on a fence, over this one, reconsider, and give it a try. It also worked very well as an audiobook.

[schatzi_5 · Calificación: 4 de 5 estrellas]

I'm not sure how I went this long without reading Frankenstein (or Dracula, which is still on my TBR list). Of course I'd heard about the story, and thought that I knew the basics of it (apparently I knew more about the movies than the book), and since it's October and Halloween is fast approaching, I thought that I'd find a creepy read.Instead, I found myself getting weepy over Frankenstein's creation. Frankenstein is a total dick, and I find it impossible to really feel anything for him except a vague disgust. Frankenstein spends years crafting his creation, and as SOON as his creation is animated, he is repulsed by him. Having brought this creation to life, with him knowing nothing about life or humans or anything, completely dependent on his creator for care, Frankenstein abandons him - FOR TWO YEARS. TWO FREAKING YEARS. Meanwhile, this poor creation is thrust into a world he does not and cannot possibly understand. He doesn't even understand hunger or thirst, much less how to speak or express his needs. All the creation longs for is acceptance; instead, he finds only horror. Every time he tries to help people in an attempt to win their favor, he's shot or beaten or hated. Is it any wonder that he becomes full of rage and turns that against his creator, whom he blames for bringing him to "life" and then abandoning him in a cruel world? I do feel sorry for the characters that are hurt because of their association with Frankenstein, but Frankenstein himself? Meh. In spite of never being formally educated, the creation is quite smart (having taught himself language and reason by observing, studying his neighbors circumspectly, and reading a few books he found abandoned) and totally calls out Frankenstein for his dickish behavior, and I enjoyed this part the most. And I hated how remorseful the creation was when Frankenstein dies, because I really wanted him to just say "fuck this hoe" and leave. Altogether, this wasn't what I expected it to be - and I'm glad for that. Three stars because I still feel we're suppose to sympathize a bit with Frankenstein, and I just can't. CANNOT.

[gbelik_1 · Calificación: 4 de 5 estrellas]

I haven't read this since high school so it felt like I was reading it for the first time. There was so much more here than I remembered, both in plot and in ideas. Well worth a re-read.

[starla_aurora · Calificación: 4 de 5 estrellas]

I can understand all the love I hear for this book. It is writing is eloquent and you can fell the time period the author is from. Sadly, this extreme difference is noticed because of how many (terrible) writing styles there are in this day. I cant say much that is not already said about this book. If you are someone who enjoys very well written art, this is for you. Writing style is not what I judge highly, as long as I can feel what the characters are feeling and see what they have seen, I enjoy a book. As for the person who wrote that Hollywood got it terribly wrong, they did. I listened to this on audio book (amazing reader btw, George Guidall is brilliant -I loved his audio reading of The Ear, The Eye, and The Arm By: Nancy Farmer.

[fredacochran · Calificación: 5 de 5 estrellas]

Read this in high school and loved it, I still love it, such a brilliant mine to come up with the characters and story.

[birdie.newborn · Calificación: 4 de 5 estrellas]

An important book. Mary Shelley is methodical, but also swept up in the Sturm-und-Drang emotionality of the period. Her characters have motivations, psychological depth, passions.

[khrystibooks · Calificación: 4 de 5 estrellas]

This book was excellently written and very philosophical, and way depressing. It's also very worth reading.

[jbarringer-2 · Calificación: 3 de 5 estrellas]

I wanted to like this book more than I did. The story of Frankenstein is in pop-culture enough that I knew pretty well what the book was about. What I didn't expect was how pathetic Frankenstein is, whining about everything and taking almost no responsibility for his own thoughts and actions. He gets awfully dramatic about his early education, as if he could really blame one conversation in his youth for his entire adult obsession over making his monster. Similarly, the monster seems incapable of taking responsibility for his choices and actions, even after he has become the articulate, intelligent creature he is when he starts killing people. I suppose if Frankenstein is a restrained sociopath, and Frankenstein is an expression of his repressed fantasies, maybe it makes some sense, but since Frankenstein narrates most of the story (in his whining style) I found this book to be a slow and not-so enjoyable read.

[fyrefly98 · Calificación: 4 de 5 estrellas]

Summary: Victor Frankenstein, the son of a wealthy Geneva family, was encouraged in his pursuit of the study of the natural sciences, and from his reading gleans the idea of creating life from non-life. So he builds a creature from human body parts, and animates it, and is then struck by the horror of what he's done, during which time the monster escapes. It soon learns that it is monstrous, and by hiding in a shed near a house with a family, learns language. It vows vengeance on Frankenstein, for creating it and abandoning it, and proceeds to kill those that Frankenstein loves, and to destroy his every chance for happiness.Review: This was a really fascinating read, and made for a surprisingly intense discussion at book club. I'd grown up with the pop-culture monster image in my head, and I knew enough to know that Frankenstein was the scientist, not the monster (although does his behavior make him the one that's truly monstrous? Discuss.), but I'd never before read the actual book. I was surprised how much of it doesn't match the Hollywood version, and by how much of it's from the monster's point of view - he's very articulate, which surprised me.The prose was really pretty dense - no point in saying once what you can say three times with a bunch of adjectives, I guess - and there was a lot of wailing and (metaphorical) gnashing of teeth and rending of garments, which got a little bit (a lot, actually) tiring. But I liked that it could be read on a number of levels - as a horror story, as a story about scientific ethics, as a story about the human condition and what it really means to be human, so that was all great. I also entertained myself as I was listening by seeing how far I could carry my theory that Frankenstein himself actually was murdering all those people - several times throughout the novel he goes into fits and has a fever from which he doesn't recover for several weeks, and when he does, someone else close to him is dead. It doesn't quite hold up throughout the entire story, but I thought it made an interesting possibility. 3.5 out of 5 stars.Recommendation: I didn't love it, but it's absolutely worth reading, both to get the real scoop on the mad-scientist cliche, and to provide lots of really interesting possibilities for debate with others.

[soylentgreen23 · Calificación: 3 de 5 estrellas]

The Good: The quality of this story, in terms of the ideas it contains and the philosophical musings it provokes, is far greater than that of the various movie versions.The Bad: The quality of the writing is not always equal to the quality of the story. This is very much a book written by a relatively young woman, trying to impress a literary scene with her abilities. The dialogue is very weak at times, and there are strange moments when Frankenstein collapses into a fever that last months and months, just to give his creation time to explore the world he finds himself in.The Ugly: Yes, the creature is ugly and terrible, but also very, very interesting. This thinking, moralising monster is much more worthy of our attention than the giant imbecile that haunts the cinema. Reading the story, one also wonders if the general public (or the press) has it right in describing genetically modified food as 'Frankenfoods'. The monster is only evil when he suffers the evil of society around him; he has an overwhelming capacity for love and for good.

[elfortunawe · Calificación: 4 de 5 estrellas]

This is one of those classics that everyone knows about but that few ever actually read. The actual content of the book is so different from what people believe they know about it that I can't help but think someone (probably long dead by now, and safe from prosecution) has played an elaborate prank on the world, for reasons which will likely remain forever lost to the gentle perturbations of passing time.The story has a nested, tripartite, epistolary structure, being presented as a collection of letters by a young polar explorer named Robert Walton to his sister in England. Within this is nestled the story of the eponymous Dr. Frankenstein, who is found by the explorer and his crew on the pack ice. And comfortably holstered in Dr. Frankenstein's tale is the narrative of the life of Frankenstein's Monster, who relates his story to Frankenstein in the Alps, prior to Walton's discovery of Frankenstein near the North Pole.Mary Shelley was a Romantic, and, like most Romantics, was rather prolix and agitated. The novel maintains a fairly constant emotional tone, leaving the reader feeling a bit drained after only a few pages. All 3 of the narrative voices seem to be constantly on the edge of some unbearable sensation. Sometimes it's joy, but for the vast majority of the work it's despondency, so it's best taken in small doses.It might be easy to take this famous story for granted, but the reader should remember what a novel blend of ideas this was for the time. It's influence has been so thorough that it can be difficult to detect it's presence, but it can be readily perceived in the works of H.P. Lovecraft.

[caterpillarqueenie · Calificación: 4 de 5 estrellas]

It was good:)