Victor von Frankenstein is a bit of a mad scientist, but he's pursuing a more noble cause, helping the world. What he creates can be considered a monster. But he doesn't love his creation, he loathes it. Frankenstein becomes a broken man. His creation starts killing the people he loves. And he feels the blame belongs to him. He created this monster, so these murders are his fault.
The book's Frankenstein, the true character that hasn't been warped and distorted by Hollywood in an effort to make a buck, is one that you can truly feel for. He loves his family so deeply, and that love costs lives. He refuses to help his creation (who is quite eloquent himself, also unlike the movie versions) in making another creation. Death piles up around him, so he is determined to do one thing, and one thing only: kill his creation.
At times I even felt for the creation. This being wanted to be loved like any other human. It wanted to have friends, not because of what it looked like, but by who it was intellectually. It wanted companionship. But the grotesque nature of its face and body prevented any companionship, so it was a creature alone. It wanted one thing in life: another one like it.
I loved this book, and I would definitely read it again if I had the chance.
**Slight note (off topic) - If you've noticed my Goodreads currently reading list has a book that is not added, it is because it will not be reviewed. It will count towards my books read this year, but I will not be reviewing it. It's a textbook for a class that I'm currently taking.**
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