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Frankenstein
Mary Shelley

In the Library

Frankenstein

Mary Shelley, 1818

Form
Form Novel
Difficulty
Difficulty Moderate
Reading time
Reading time 5.5 hours
Chapters
Chapters 28
Length
Length 75k words

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It was on a dreary night of November that I beheld the accomplishment of my toils.

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About the book

On a dreary night of November, a being's dull yellow eye opens for the first time, and the man who built it bolts from the room in terror of his own success. Everything in Mary Shelley's novel turns on that flight. Begun when she was eighteen, during a rain-locked Geneva summer where Byron had set ghost stories as a parlour game, Frankenstein outgrew the competition and became the first true work of science fiction. Its creature is no lurching brute: he teaches himself to read from Milton and Plutarch and Goethe, reasons his way to a full understanding of how completely he has been cast out of human warmth, and asks Victor for one thing only, a companion made like himself. The terror here is not the stitched body on the table. It is the maker who gives a creature a mind and then refuses to answer for the loneliness he has made.

Frankenstein, in the bookshop · The Daily Canon