Frankenstein or The Modern Prometheus by Mary Shelley

This is a book that I read many years ago and again in 2013. The edition I read (Wordsworth Classics 1993) includes an Introduction and a Preface, and I assume that it is faithful to the original text written in 1818.

Since Mary Shelley’s book was published more than two centuries ago, we have been inundated with images and descriptions of Frankenstein’s creature as well as many other similar creatures. The majority of these images have come to us via a plethora of films loosely based on Mary’s idea, and somewhere in this entanglement of ideas and images, Mary’s original story has become distorted and often even lost.

The original story is well-written even if the presentation is often, by today’s standards, archaic. As well as having the honour of being one of the first science fiction stories, Frankenstein is a thoughtful novel, revealing a deep understanding of human nature. That Victor Frankenstein was able to create such a creature is a wonder in itself, but, as Mary is well aware, creation without responsibility can only end in disaster, which, of course, is precisely what happens.

You may well read this story as science fiction or even horror, but it is the human element that is most disturbing: we do not need ugly, ungainly creatures to upset the equilibrium of life, we are quite adept at upsetting it ourselves.