Reviewing Shelley’s ‘Frankenstein’ feels kind of strange. Yeah, I’ve reviewed hundreds, if not thousands of books over the years. But when it’s a classic of this calibre, one which is such an important piece of literary history, well, it feels almost arrogant to offer an opinion upon its merits, let alone say anything critical about it. But I will. Although to be fair, thankfully, it’s a bloody good read.

Okay, so the novel was penned back in the early nineteenth century. However, although the writing is obviously of that time, it’s nevertheless not a challenging read. Yes, the paragraphs are often chunky beasts, with the book presenting a veritable wall of text across each page. Furthermore, the dialogue is incredibly flowery and often overtly meandering, like mere speech should be a form of poetry in itself. I kid you not, the dialogue in the novel makes these DLS Reviews seem somewhat straight to the point!

However, once it gets going, the tale on the whole, is actually a relatively fast-paced one, presenting the reader with a wild rollercoaster of emotional peaks and troughs, love and loss, and eventual bitter, bitter tragedy. Now, I say “once it gets going” quite purposefully, because I’ll be honest, the first handful of chapters are somewhat turgid, if not downright dull and excessively padded.

Nevertheless, once the scene is fully set, and Frankenstein’s monster is on the loose, that’s when the story really gets underway. Admittedly, we’re now at Chapter Eleven, whereupon the perspective of the tale switches from Victor Frankenstein’s to that of the creature. It’s at this point when the tale seems to break loose of all the waffle and instead push on straight to the point.

What follows is a sad tale that throws around a whole host of poignant questions, largely around morality, cause and effect, and the consequences of blind judgement. The creature is a visually a grotesque beast. But that’s on the outside. On the inside, is almost a malleable ball of clay, which is gradually beaten and transformed through the creature’s interactions with those it encounters. However, because of its appearance, the way its treated, the way people react to its presence with fear and hatred, this impressionable being becomes almost a projection again of the cruelty it has itself suffered.

Your heart goes out to the creature. You feel sorry for it, how its hounded, persecuted, villainised and feared. You see this all through the creature’s own eyes. Almost like that of a young child, unsure of the world and the reasons for its inherent cruelty.

Of course, there’s not a huge amount of realism in the book. Indeed, the creature is able to learn to both speak and read merely through watching and observing a small family living in an isolated cottage, over a series of months.

Even more sadly, the more the creature learns, the more it discovers what a wretched outcast it is. Hearing stories of the world, of love, family, companionship and the happiness that can be obtained in life – it’s something that weighs heavier and heavier on the creature. If you’ve not yet read the tale, then I’ll not spoil anything for you here, but what I will say is this aspect, this harsh emotional journey, is one of the key drives behind the novel.

It’s not a horror story as one would usually reference or think of such a novel. It’s more a sad and tragic tale. A gothic tragedy with an origin in dark speculative, perhaps occultist science fiction. But then what is horror? Is it not simply an exhibition of the horrific? And then is this not just that? A grotesque being, unfairly, unjustly and cruelly judged by those that merely glimpse its hideous form. The resulting hatred, vengeance and indeed the string of murders which follow are all a repercussion of this. A consequence for man’s intolerant and inherently egotistical nature.

For anyone embarking upon this incredible tale, I urge you to push on through the first handful of chapters, despite their padding and unnecessarily verbose nature. Once you’re past the scene setting, once the creature has fled from Frankenstein and is finding its own way in the world, the pace and the emotional charge within the tale takes hold. From then on, all of the way until the bitterly sad ending, the novel is an utterly compelling and wonderfully evocative read.

As I mentioned earlier, the importance of this novel is indisputable. It’s inspired and spawned so many other tales of horror and tragedy. Frankenstein’s creature has become an icon recognised by the world over. The sheer number of movie adaptations is like no other…well maybe other than Bram Stoker’s ‘Dracula’ (1897).

On that point, interestingly, the popular image and creation of Frankenstein’s monster isn’t quite the same as what’s depicted in the book. How Victor Frankenstein creates his monster isn’t as explicitly detailed as you might have thought. There’s no stitching together of body parts from executed criminals and murderers. There’s no elaborate rig harnessing the formidable power from a bolt of lightning, to breathe life into our mad scientist’s jigsaw creation. No, the novel is more subtle than that. With brief mutterings of alchemy and dark arts, but nothing of much substance beyond that.

Ultimately, this is a story everyone should probably read at some stage in their life. Perhaps it should be part of the school curriculum? Discussed by young minds, open to unpicking and reflecting upon the complexities of morality embedded within the tale. So yeah, it’s a classic, and rightly so. It’s a truly great read. Although only once it gets going!

The novel runs for a total of 263 pages.