Discover the unaltered 1818 edition of Frankenstein by Mary Shelley – the original, unabridged Gothic horror novel that redefined science fiction and dark romantic literature. Written when Shelley was only 18, this first edition preserves the raw, unsettling power and philosophical depth of the story before later revisions softened its impact.
In Frankenstein, Victor Frankenstein, a driven scientist, defies the limits of nature to create life, only to unleash a being both intelligent and monstrous. The novel explores ambition, isolation, moral responsibility, and the dangers of unchecked scientific progress. This 1818 text retains Shelley’s original language, structure, and themes, making it essential for purists, scholars, and lovers of authentic classic literature.
Why this edition is
- Original 1818 version – experience Frankenstein exactly as first published - Gothic horror at its purest – atmospheric, unsettling, and morally complex - Culturally influential – the foundation of modern horror and science fiction - Perfect for study – ideal for academic analysis, literary criticism, and historical context
Whether you are a student, collector, or casual reader, this edition offers the authentic Frankenstein experience, rich in Gothic atmosphere and philosophical questions. Mary Shelley’s chilling masterpiece remains as relevant today as when it first shocked readers over two centuries ago.
Mary Shelley (née Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin, often known as Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley) was an English novelist, short story writer, dramatist, essayist, biographer, travel writer, and editor of the works of her husband, Romantic poet and philosopher Percy Bysshe Shelley. She was the daughter of the political philosopher William Godwin and the writer, philosopher, and feminist Mary Wollstonecraft.
Mary Shelley was taken seriously as a writer in her own lifetime, though reviewers often missed the political edge to her novels. After her death, however, she was chiefly remembered only as the wife of Percy Bysshe Shelley and as the author of Frankenstein. It was not until 1989, when Emily Sunstein published her prizewinning biography Mary Shelley: Romance and Reality, that a full-length scholarly biography analyzing all of Shelley's letters, journals, and works within their historical context was published.
The well-meaning attempts of Mary Shelley's son and daughter-in-law to "Victorianise" her memory through the censoring of letters and biographical material contributed to a perception of Mary Shelley as a more conventional, less reformist figure than her works suggest. Her own timid omissions from Percy Shelley's works and her quiet avoidance of public controversy in the later years of her life added to this impression.
The eclipse of Mary Shelley's reputation as a novelist and biographer meant that, until the last thirty years, most of her works remained out of print, obstructing a larger view of her achievement. She was seen as a one-novel author, if that. In recent decades, however, the republication of almost all her writings has stimulated a new recognition of its value. Her voracious reading habits and intensive study, revealed in her journals and letters and reflected in her works, is now better appreciated. Shelley's recognition of herself as an author has also been recognized; after Percy's death, she wrote about her authorial ambitions: "I think that I can maintain myself, and there is something inspiriting in the idea". Scholars now consider Mary Shelley to be a major Romantic figure, significant for her literary achievement and her political voice as a woman and a liberal.
Never been much of a classics guy, but it’s surprising to me, especially given my proclivity for horror and my love of the Frankenstein films, that I hadn’t yet read Mary Shelley’s magnum opus. Everything that’s going to be said about this book has already been said at this point, so I’ll just say I loved it and am glad I read it. A rough and slow beginning is why I subtracted a star.
3.5/5 ⭐️ Más allá del terror clásico, se explora la soledad, la responsabilidad y las consecuencias de jugar con límites que no entendemos. Es una historia oscura pero profundamente emotiva, no solo engancha, sino que invita a reflexionar sobre la empatía y la creación. Es un clásico que te deja pensando en quién es realmente el monstruo.
In my opinion Frankenstein is special as a classic because it was written by a woman whose modern and very feminine ideas are reflected in one of the most unpleasant male characters in literature. Victor doesn't stand out for his repulsiveness or cruelty, as one might expect from Bukowski's male characters. Victor almost vehemently resists taking responsibility for his actions. Even later, when his creature has caused him significant harm, he tends to crumble into self-pity and revenge rather than realize that perhaps empathy and love could have prevented the dilemma.
The writing style is highly poetic and can be off-putting. However, if you persevere in certain passages (especially at the beginning), you'll be rewarded with various quotations that have made their claim in history for very good reasons.
Frankenstein is also unique as a prime example of an information gap. Important scenes, such as the creation of the creature, which was so popular in media, are completely missing. But that's probably one of the reasons why the book has endured so long. The many alternative scenarios offered here can be found in various films and offer stories just as exciting as the original.
The slow start and Victor's truly unbearable excesses somewhat diminish the rereading value, and some decisions simply make little sense. For example, the creature completely mimics its behavior from the human model and thus easily learns complex language, but then commits a gruesome crime in the blink of an eye. I appreciate the ending, but I can understand why it might be considered anticlimactic. Overall, a great classic.
Un clásico entre clásicos y una delicia que he pillado en el mejor momento posible (y además para el club de lectura).
Me ha parecido increíble la dualidad de los personajes y cómo la autora muestra su perspectiva del mundo y sus imperfecciones. Y la criatura es uno de los personajes más tiernos que existen.
Qué fantasía que Mary Shelley cogiera y se despertase un día random y dijera: ‘Pues voy a inventar un género nuevo’
A sus pies, supongo
(No le pongo las cinco estrellas porque el comienzo se me ha hecho uno poco denso, pero me ha encantado)
A reread of a book from high school, this time via audiobook. Obviously there is significant scholarly focus on this novel, of which I cannot claim thorough knowledge. Thus my review will largely reflect how I personally feel about it, independent of much context.
Frankenstein sets against one another the narratives of two agonized souls, who each contribute to the other's grief. It is popularly held that Victor Frankenstein is the monster of the story, not the creature, but I find this a bit reductive. Victor is certainly a monster. He does no more than gaze upon his creation before taking a nap, and avoids him for nearly the remainder of his life. He is a monster constructed of luxury and arrogance, starting with an idyllic childhood and receiving little steering in the course of his education. He never accepts nor seems even to comprehend that the evil he has committed is not, necessarily, the creation of a "monster," but the complete abandonment of it and refusal to provide for it any kind of affection, guidance, or protection. Until the end, his only concern is that the creature has killed people Victor knew. He repeatedly makes remarks about how he'd rather suffer himself than allow this to happen to his fellows, despite the fact that he could have directly prevented 3/4 of these incidents and simply did not act.
However, I don't think Victor's sins entirely absolve the creature of monster status. The creature comes by his motivations honestly: bereft of warmth, food, shelter, or companionship, he tries several times to connect with humans and is met with violence and despair. Ultimately he sets himself against mankind and his creator in particular, making it clear that he will kill Victor's loved ones until he experiences comparable solitude and unhappiness. Yes, the creature's wrath is understandable, born of fear, pain, and betrayal. Still does he visit harm upon innocents, doing so knowingly and with enjoyment. We can't really blame the creature for who he is, but it doesn't mean he isn't a monster in the end.
Shelley's prose is beautiful. It requires one to suspend their disbelief somewhat to accept that the creature developed so varied and eloquent an understanding of language in perhaps one year of life, but I also think it is necessary that the creature be given the tools to express the depths of his suffering and of his intelligence. This leads me to think this book would be better from multiple first person perspectives rather than as an oddly nested epistolary, but I suppose it is also necessary for Victor to receive full evidence of his sins and the creature's lot, yet reject responsibility, with no possibility for misunderstanding.
It seems to be a trope of the time period, but Victor spends an outsized amount of time languishing in bed, and the remainder on vacation. I am sure this is intended to communicate the extent of his anguish and the pressure he feels. Read with modern eyes, he comes off as a drama queen who shirks responsibility by claiming debilitating illness. Combined with his incessant proclamations of inner compassion and kindness, and absolutely no effort to prevent any of the tragedies that he is aware are impending, he is insufferable. In the end, he straight up dies after telling his story, presumably in a last-ditch effort to outsource responsibility for his crimes to Walton, his sea-faring savior.
Walton mirrors traits of both Frankensteins (for, indeed, the creature being his offspring, though rejected, ought entitle him to at least the name). His ambition drives him to a hitherto unattainable goal (exploring the North Pole) despite the risk to his and others' safety. Yet he also longs for companionship. I hold that, in the final chapter, it would have been satisfying if he and the creature had agreed to complete their journey together. The creature has announced his plan to go to the Arctic circle to die, knowing he is hardy enough to withstand the cold. Walton, having just accepted responsibility for the creature and heard the perspectives of both father and son, and whose crew has just abandoned their cause, should have proposed a joint effort. In doing so, he could accept the driving ambition of discovery shared with Victor (and humanity), while accepting the creature on his merit as an individual and, perhaps, redeeming mankind to both creature and reader. But I suppose Shelley intended for there to be no possibility of redemption, to say that humanity can neither escape its blind ambition nor ever meaningfully atone for it. That sometimes, it's just too late.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
"And soon," he cried with sad and solemn enthusiasm, "I shall die, and what I now feel no longer be felt. Soon these burning miseries will be extinct."
"Invention, it must be humbly admitted, does not consist in creating out of void, but out of chaos... invention consists in the capacity of seizing on the capabilities of a subject..."
Within these two sentiments lies the heart of Shelley's classic, and self professed "burdened" story.
And this space between the sentiments informs the necessary tension that carries the questions that this heart evokes. Namely, where do we situate ourselves between the wanted optimism of invention and the sheer defeat of death.
And more importantly, what has the power to truly shape our longing, our desires, towards one end or another.
Is this a story about wanted death in the face of misery? To some extent yes. Is it a story of the failed promises found in the positivist modernist mantra to recreate this world in the image of human intellect and ambition? I think this gets one step closer to the heart of the story.
Is this a story about how the narratives that shape our understanding of the world, and indeed how we live in this world, are where we find the true source of our hope and our despair?
This I think is what truly anchors this space inbetween. Here Frankenstein's monster becomes not simply an image contrived through human invention, but an expression of a world seeking to define itself amidst the tension according to some sense of meaning. Some sense of capital T Truth. A monster that is then so labeled and rejected precisely because we are too afraid to recognize that within this tension we might find ourselves given over to a story far different than the ones we tell.
The ones we tell ourselves in order to justify this thing called progress. This thing called modernity.
On the surface we fear the monster. In truth, we fear what the monster experiences in the wake of its creation: the futility of a world shaped by false promise. This is why we raise up the monsters, so that we might convince ourselves that such a narrative is one we can circumvent through our continued act of "invention." To what end is the question our inventions shout back at us, having taken on a life of their own.
And this is the tragedy that lies behind the story of a monster and its creator. This world, these societies, that we create, begin to then become inventors in and of itself, creating itself over and over again, taking on a life of its own. All with a buried secret: such a narrative is built on a love for death. But how can this be we ask ourselves. Invention breathes life out of chaos. In fact, such a narrative if founded not on chaos but the void. We intuitively understand that invention cannot bring about that which it needs to create, and yet we act and live as though this precisely the case. That we, ourselves products of that unnamed void, can act as though we are more. And as long as we have the monster, we ourselves can convince ourselves of this truth.
But here the story of Frankentein's monster once again rears its ugly head: in this narrative, the monster is no different than the inventor. What the monster experiences is the futility of our illusions, unmasked as it becomes in the monsters own experience of rejection. The desire to die does not come from the monsters murderous actions, it comes from that which defined it long before it acted at all. It comes from the world that gave him life, the world that he c omes into and which he experiences to be in constant disonnance with what its creator imagined and promised.
And yet, within this all I do think there are glimpses of a different narrative. Human invention cannot be the answer we desire. To some end, the fact that we invent beckons us to find ourselves not within the void but the chaos. The chaos tells us there is order to be found beyond ourelves. The choas tells us that the death is antithetical to life, and that what we fear is actually a window into that which we truly desire: Truth. Not the sort of truth that has come to be attached to human intellect, but the sort of Truth that has the power to humble it.
De mult timp voiam să ajung la povestea creaturii create de Victor Frankenstein sau, mai bine zis, la opera zugrăvită atât de frumos de Mary Shelley.
Mi-a plăcut cartea iar imaginația scriitoarei s-a dovedit captivantă, fermecătoare și demnă de renumele care dăinuie și de care se bucură opera sa de-a lungul secolelor.
Pe scurt, Victor Frankenstein, care NU era monstrul, era un tânăr pasionat de știință, căruia limitele interpuse de aceasta între viață și moarte i se par extrem de atractive. El își propune să creeze viață din trupuri furate. Un experiment ciudat, macabru și care poate amenința încă dinainte de a da amploare unui astfel de proiect. Și totuși, își dedică ahtiat munca în vederea creării de viață, sfidând legile naturale ale creației. Ce rezultă din asta? Un monstru urât, neiubit, care seamănă groază și fiori pe șira spinării. Totuși, acesta ființă creată în aceste condiții, se "naște" cu dorința de a iubi și de a fi iubită. Își dorește compania omului însă bietul rezultat al experimentului nefast este hulit, detestabil, de speriat și nedorit nici chiar de creatorul său, lucru care îl va face să înceapă să trăiască doar pentru răzbunare. Iar Victor, are să plătească pentru asta.
Personal, mi-a fost milă de monstru și l-am îndrăgit în felul lui de a fi: hidos dar inimos. Mi se pare nedrept și cumva m-a dus cu gândul la nedreptățile care se pot petrece chiar și în zilele noastre: a judeca pe cineva după înfățișare și aparențe. Îmi pare rău că în ciuda ororilor înfăptuite, nimeni nu a părut să-l înțeleagă sau să-l compătimească. Nici măcar Victor care l-a creat așa cum l-a creat...
Frankenstein by Mary Shelley is a wonderful gothic tale about a man who unleashes onto the world a monster, his devious, wretched creation.
This book made me feel way too many emotions. I had "old man shakes fist at sky" moments reading this book. There were uncountable moments of me shaking the physical book while reading.
Mary Shelley writes this story with absolutely brilliant prose - the words used, oh my gosh. The pacing was great - the story really takes its time to build ambience, build up the horrid things that happen throughout this book. It's not always doom and gloom, there are many instances of our optimistic cast waking up and smelling the roses. With rich descriptions of the natural world, you can feel like you see what they are seeing, and it's glorious.
I loved how much I hated the main character. It's one of those stories where I kind of started rejoicing about all of the things that happen to him, because he really did bring it all down on himself. I sympathised with "the villain". Despite his ugly, inhuman looks, he was a piece of clay ready to me moulded into whatever, like a child. He is a victim of the circumstances. There is a specific moment in this book, where he is born, that if he was treated in a certain way, things could have gone completely different. Circa loop back to me saying everything that happens to the main character is his fault.
I really loved this book. It's a wonderful classic, so rich in description, emotion, ambience and the likes. A great book to read over halloween if thats your thing.
For a classic, this exceeded all of my expectations. I did it the forbidden way and watched the new movie before reading the novel in its entirety but I actually ended up loving both, and relishing in their lack of similarities.
Mary Shelley’s way of highlighting the inner desires of humans and portraying such heavy innate tendencies in a fantasy like story is intriguing and also jarring. To be such a young age with a mind built from such tragedy is beautiful and relatable and maddening. She’s brilliant.
My favorite part was the monster's POV. He came across as so eloquent and empathetic. I was a little surprised by it, so I'll call it a spoiler. I was particularly surprised at a line showing empathy towards Native Americans. It made me wonder how common that sentiment may have been at the time, particularly in Europe. But then I'd guess Mary Shelley and her parents were ahead of their time in several regards. I also really enjoyed the audiobook narration by Simon Vance.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
The book "Frankenstein", as I see it, addresses three main points. Firstly, it explores parenthood and the absence of care and affection through Victor Frankenstein's relationship with the creature and other events. This begins with Frankenstein's mother taking on the role of caretaker for Victor’s grandfather when she was still a child, then advancing to when she grows up to become his mother, caring for her two brothers and adoptive sister, as well as sheltering another girl, Justine, after her mother abandoned her. To, In contrast to his mother, Victor abandoning his creature, while in a form of postpartum depression. The relationship between De Lacey and his children, Felix and Agatha, is also used to explore this same theme, particularly because it serves as a model for the creature to understand what Victor should feel for it. Victor’s refusal to create a wife for the creature, especially since it was to prevent them from reproducing, seems to be a relevant point as well. None of the characters in the book have a living mother when introduced, aside from Justine and Victor, who lose theirs soon after. Additionally, the creature was mentally like a baby when abandoned and says, "No father watched my infancy, no mother blessed me with smiles and affection; or, if they had, my past life would have become a blot, a blind void in which I could distinguish nothing." Mary Shelley’s mother died 11 days after giving birth to her, and Mary Shelley was pregnant while writing this book. She eventually lost that child and had already suffered a miscarriage previously. It seems to me that the book reflects how the author felt about the loss of her mother, how her father and stepmother treated her, and about the possibility of becoming a mother herself. Secondly, the common interpretation of "Frankenstein" as a warning against "playing God" is a simplistic reading. Mary Shelley herself doesn't easily align with traditional religious views, and the text, if we try to interpret it in any type of religious context, seems more likely a critique of the concept of a benevolent God who leaves His creatures at the mercy of suffering, although I don’t think this is the main point. Lastly, in the book, characters repeatedly equate beauty with goodness and ugliness with moral corruption. Making such equivalencies was common in literature of that time, so I’m not certain if the text criticizes this behavior or merely follows this literary tradition, although I suspect it is the former.
I read it to read a classic story, but what stayed with me most were the moral and philosophical questions that surface throughout the story, some obvious, some more subtle. Besides the biggest moral question of how much we are responsible for the things we create, the novel also asks how much of what we fear or reject comes from genuine danger, and how much comes from our discomfort with the unknown. This fear of “otherness” is embodied not only in the story of the creature itself, but also in a smaller narrative thread, the episode of the Arab man persecuted in France simply for being different. These moments quietly expand the novel beyond Gothic horror into social and ethical territory.
One of the book’s strongest elements, in my opinion, is the section told from the creature’s point of view. Watching him share his process of learning about life, learning a language, wanting to connect, and then learning violence and aggression because that is all he receives in return, is also thought-provoking. Shelley opens another philosophical question here: how much of who we become is our own nature, and how much is shaped by our environment?
However, as the story progresses, Victor Frankenstein himself becomes increasingly flat and predictable. His emotional responses repeat themselves, and his self-pity and avoidance begin to feel circular rather than tragic. Victor often functions more as a vehicle for ideas than as a fully evolving character. The secondary characters suffer even more from this limitation, remaining largely underdeveloped, which ultimately reduces the emotional richness of the narrative. For me, the archaic English also became tiring over time. While this is partly a matter of historical context rather than a flaw, it affects how the emotions land. The characters’ grief, horror, and despair are often expressed in a heightened, theatrical style that creates distance rather than intimacy. As a result, even major tragedies begin to lose their emotional impact. They feel staged, formal, and oddly remote. So at a certain point, I started to enjoy the reading less and found myself rushing through the latter part of the book.
That said, none of this diminishes the originality of the novel, especially considering when it was written. Frankenstein remains groundbreaking in its conception and enduring in its ideas. Its reflections on responsibility, creation, rejection, and moral accountability continue to be useful thoughts.
Having recently seen the new Frankenstein movie and also having seen other prior versions of the Frankenstein story in film (including Young Frankenstein, which is one of my favorite movies… which bear’s little resemblance to this text, of course) I decided I would would read the original. I had read in reviews that it was the most accurate film with regard to the original text. I will say that it was quite a slog, compared to what I typically read. I’m not used to reading 19th century prose, so that took a while to get used to. Of course, many plot elements were changed between the book and the movie, but overall it was very similar. I can say that I’m glad I read it because now I can put the film in context with the original text and also compare it to other much less accurate versions that I have seen. But I am also not planning to read texts written in the 1800s! I will say also that there was a lot more wandering around Europe on the part of Frankenstein and his friend than in the movie, which makes sense, because that part was not terribly exciting (and probably not worth screen time), although the monster was occasionally involved. I was also interested in the fact that the creation of the monster in the book was just a little handwaving and…Tada!…I created a humanish monster thing in my apartment! There were also parts of the book that seemed sympathetic to the monster, but then in the later half of the book, it was mostly focused on Frankenstein and his attempts to escape the monster, who at that point was just “the monster” and we didn’t really see much from his point of view.
- "I was encouraged to hope my present attempts would at least lay the foundations of future success. Nor could I consider the magnitude and complexity of my plan as any argument of its impracticality. It was with these feeling that I began the creation of a human being".
- "But such is not my destiny; I must pursue and destroy the being to whom I gave existence; then my lot on earth will be fulfilled, and I may die".
- "I look on the hands which executed the deed; I think on the heart in which the imagination of it was conceived, and long for the moment when these hands will meet my eyes, when that imagination will haunt my thoughts no more".
This was really, really incredible. This started off so tame and adventurous, as Victor began his journey as a young man fascinated by the explorations of science and anatomy. But, wow, did it get dark quickly. I'm not sure I am qualified enough to speak too much on this book, as I think there is still a lot I don't quite understand about it yet. It focuses mainly on the unforgiving qualities of human existence from the perspectives of a monster who is shunned from any version of a normal life, which, having known relatively nothing going into this, was very surprising to me. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but it definitely wasn't this, and I'm glad for it. Shelly touches on complex, and deep-rooted, feelings/emotions in such a beautifully haunting way -- it's completely mesmerizing. She was such a gifted poet and writer, and I'm very grateful to have given this book the time of day. Such an amazing read -- 4.5/5.
I found Frankenstein to be a little slow at the beginning, due to getting used to the style of writing and slogging through the philosophical ramblings of an egocentric academic (relatable), but once Victor's darling bundle of joy and body parts came to life things got interesting.
I have to give it to Shelley, she wrote such beautiful people from the view of a monster. I genuinely loved how these characters were portrayed as genuine and loving to Victor, and he to them. I rarely read books where the whole family unit is so devoted to one another (not for a lack of trying), which made the subsequent tragedies that more heartbreaking.
Despite the amount of innocents killed I did find the death of Victor both ironic and fitting- shifting from being obsessed with his own intellect and breaking the laws of nature, to dying in the Arctic from pneumonia (an admittedly lacklustre death)
Overall, I enjoyed reading Frankenstein, and I give it a happy 3.5/5 start rating.
I recently picked up this classic, curious to see how it compared to Guillermo Del Toro's recent movie adaptation. Consisting of letters from Captain Walton who discovers Victor Frankenstein on his expedition to the North Pole did take some getting used to. Also, the pacing in part 1 felt especially slow.
However, part 2 picked up momentum with the creature's story, exploring humanity and what it means to be alive. This book masterfully conveys morality and the dangers of unchecked ambition in men. The creature's perspective forces you to question who's the true monster…Victor Frankenstein or his creation?
The themes of loneliness and societal rejection drive the creatures actions. Frankenstein is perfect for a gothic winter read and its timeless themes make it a great introduction to classic literature.
What is there to say about Frankenstein that has not already been said? It’s great! I chose to reread it since I am currently interested in what monsters and monstrosity tells us about the meaning of humanity. It seemed appropriate to return to a foundational novel on the question, which firmly tells the reader that to fail to care for our creations is to make monsters out of them.
After re-reading it, I am even more disappointed by Guillermo del Toro’s adaptation, which both adds a lot of unnecessary complexity and themes while ignoring the core moral dilemma of the novel: that monstrosity is not born, but made through abandonment and the refusal of responsibility. In a novel that defies simple dichotomies of good and evil, del Toro instead renders the monster innocent and Victor Frankenstein an almost cartoon villain driven by pride, avarice, and lust. What a disappointment!