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Sumergidos a principios del siglo XIX, los avances de la ciencia y la medicina crean en la sociedad un sentimiento de poder imparable. Atrás quedan las supersticiones y ocultismos medievales. Ebrios de conocimiento, algunos científicos jugarán a ser dioses. Este será el caso del doctor Frankenstein, un chico lleno de ambición que huye de su Ginebra natal, para estudiar ciencias en la prestigiosa Universidad Ingolstadt, en Baviera.Decidido a desafiar las leyes de la naturaleza y probar su propia valía, el joven creó vida de la mismísima muerte. Por desgracia, el resultado estuvo lejos de ser de su agrado. Tenía vida, sin duda, pero era demasiado aterrador para considerarlo persona y demasiado humano para ser engendro. No le dio un nombre. Era, sencillamente, el Monstruo.Como si de un vulgar experimento fallido se tratase, el Doctor Frankenstein renegará de su creación y la venganza de la misma será imparable.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9789626345030
Publisher: Naxos Audiobooks Ltd.
Publication date: 03/28/1994
Edition description: 2 Cassettes
Pages: 38
Product dimensions: 4.56(w) x 6.96(h) x 0.84(d)

About the Author

Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin was born in 1797, the daughter of two of the leading radical writers of the age. Her mother died just days after her birth and she was educated at home by her father and encouraged in literary pursuits. She eloped with and subsequently married the Romantic poet Percy Bysshe Shelley, but their life together was full of hardship. The couple were ruined by disapproving parents and Mary lost three of her four children. Although its subject matter was extremely dark, her first novel Frankenstein (1818) was an instant sensation. Subsequent works such as Mathilda (1819), Valperga (1823) and The Last Man (1826) were less successful but are now finally receiving the critical acclaim that they deserve.

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Chapter One

I am by birth a Genevese; and my family is one of the most distinguished of that republic. My ancestors had been for many years counsellors and syndics; and my father had filled several public situations with honour and reputation. He was respected by all who knew him for his integrity and indefatigable attention to public business. He passed his younger days perpetually occupied by the affairs of his country; a variety of circumstances had prevented his marrying early, nor was it until the decline of life that he became a husband and the father of a family.

As the circumstances of his marriage illustrate his character, I cannot refrain from relating them. One of his most intimate friends was a merchant, who, from a flourishing state, fell, through numerous mischances, into poverty. This man, whose name was Beaufort, was of a proud and unbending disposition, and could not bear to live in poverty and oblivion in the same country where he had formerly been distinguished for his rank and magnificence. Having paid his debts, therefore, in the most honourable manner, he retreated with his daughter to the town of Lucerne, where he lived unknown and in wretchedness. My father loved Beaufort with the truest friendship, and was deeply grieved by his retreat in these unfortunate circumstances. He bitterly deplored the false pride which led his friend to a conduct so little worthy of the affection that united them. He lost no time in endeavouring to seek him out, with the hope of persuading him to begin the world again through his credit and assistance.

Beaufort had taken effectual measures to conceal himself; and it was ten months before my father discovered his abode. Overjoyed at this discovery, he hastened to the house, which was situated in a mean street, near the Reuss. But when he entered, misery and despair alone welcomed him. Beaufort had saved but a very small sum of money from the wreck of his fortunes; but it was sufficient to provide him with sustenance for some months, and in the meantime he hoped to procure some respectable employment in a merchant's house. The interval was, consequently, spent in inaction; his grief only became more deep and rankling when he had leisure for reflection; and at length it took so fast hold of his mind that at the end of three months he lay on a bed of sickness, incapable of any exertion.

His daughter attended him with the greatest tenderness; but she saw with despair that their little fund was rapidly decreasing, and that there was no other prospect of support. But Caroline Beaufort possessed a mind of an uncommon mould; and her courage rose to support her in her adversity. She procured plain work; she plaited straw; and by various means contrived to earn a pittance scarcely sufficient to support life.

Several months passed in this manner. Her father grew worse; her time was more entirely occupied in attending him; her means of subsistence decreased; and in the tenth month her father died in her arms, leaving her an orphan and a beggar. This last blow overcame her; and she knelt by Beaufort's coffin, weeping bitterly, when my father entered the chamber. He came like a protecting spirit to the poor girl, who committed herself to his care; and after the interment of his friend, he conducted her to Geneva, and placed her under the protection of a relation. Two years after this event Caroline became his wife.

There was a considerable difference between the ages of my parents, but this circumstance seemed to unite them only closer in bonds of devoted affection. There was a sense of justice in my father's upright mind, which rendered it necessary that he should approve highly to love strongly. Perhaps during former years he had suffered from the late discovered unworthiness of one beloved, and so was disposed to set a greater value on tried worth. There was a show of gratitude and worship in his attachment to my mother, differing wholly from the doating fondness of age, for it was inspired by reverence for her virtues, and a desire to be the means of, in some degree, recompensing her for the sorrows she had endured, but which gave inexpressible grace to his behaviour to her. Everything was made to yield to her wishes and her convenience. He strove to shelter her, as a fair exotic is sheltered by the gardener, from every rougher wind, and to surround her with all that could tend to excite pleasurable emotion in her soft and benevolent mind. Her health, and even the tranquillity of her hitherto constant spirit, had been shaken by what she had gone through. During the two years that had elapsed previous to their marriage my father had gradually relinquished all his public functions; and immediately after their union they sought the pleasant climate of italy, and the change of scene and interest attendant on a tour through that land of wonders, as a restorative for her weakened frame.

From Italy they visted Germany and France. I, their eldest child, was born in Naples, and as an infant accompanied them in their rambles. I remained for several years their only child. Much as they were attached to each other, they seemed to draw inexhaustible stores of affection from a very mine of love to bestow them upon me. My mother's tender caresses, and my father's smile of benevolent pleasure while regarding me, are my first recollections. I was their plaything and their idol, and something better—their child, the innocent and helpless creature bestowed on them by Heaven, whom to bring up to good, and whose future lot it was in their hands to direct to happiness or misery, according as they fulfilled their duties towards me. With this deep consciousness of what they owed towards the being to which they had given life, added to the active spirit of tenderness that animated both, it may be imagined that while during every hour of my infant life I received a lesson of patience, of charity, and of self control, I was so guided by a silken cord that all seemed but one train of enjoyment to me.

For a long time I was their only care. My mother had much desired to have a daughter, but I continued their single offspring. When I was about five years old, while making an excursion beyond the frontiers of Italy, they passed a week on the shores of the Lake of Como. Their benevolent disposition often made them enter the cottages of the poor. This, to my mother, was more than a duty; it was a necessity, a passion—remembering what she had suffered, and how she had been relieved—for her to act in her turn the guardian angel to the afflicted. During one of their walks a poor cot in the foldings of a vale attracted their notice as being singularly disconsolate, while the number of half-clothed children gathered about it spoke of penury in its worst shape. One day, when my father had gone by himself to Milan, my mother, accompanied by me, visited this abode. She found a peasant and his wife, hard working, bent down by care and labour, distributing a scanty meal to five hungry babes. Among these there was one which attracted my mother far above all the rest. She appeared of a different stock. The four others were dark eyed, hardy little vagrants; this child was thin, and very fair. Her hair was the brightest living gold, and, despite the poverty of her clothing, seemed to set a crown of distinction on her head. Her brow was clear and ample, her blue eyes cloudless, and her lips and the moulding of her face so expressive of sensibility and sweetness, that none could behold her without looking on her as of a distinct species, a being heaven-sent, and bearing a celestial stamp in all her features.

The peasant woman, perceiving that my mother fixed eyes of wonder and admiration on this lovely girl, eagerly communicated her history. She was not her child, but the daughter of a Milanese nobleman. Her mother was a German, and had died on giving her birth. The infant had been placed with these good people to nurse: they were better off then. They had not been long married, and their eldest child was but just born. The father of their charge was one of those Italians nursed in the memory of the antique glory of Italy—one among the schiavi ognor frementi, who exerted himself to obtain the liberty of his country. He became the victim of its weakness. Whether he had died, or still lingered in the dungeons of Austria, was not known. His property was confiscated, his child became an orphan and a beggar. She continued with her foster parents, and bloomed in their rude abode, fairer than a garden rose among dark-leaved brambles.

When my father returned from Milan, he found playing with me in the hall of our villa a child fairer than pictured cherub—a creature who seemed to shed radiance from her looks, and whose form and motions were lighter than the chamois of the hills. The apparition was soon explained. With his permission my mother prevailed on her rustic guardians to yield their charge to her. They were fond of the sweet orphan. Her presence had seemed a blessing to them; but it would be unfair to her to keep her in poverty and want, when Providence afforded her such powerful protection. They consulted their village priest, and the result was that Elizabeth Lavenza became the inmate of my parents' house—my more than sister the beautiful and adored companion of all my occupations and my pleasures.

Every one loved Elizabeth. The passionate and almost reverential attachment with which all regarded her became, while I shared it, my pride and my delight. On the evening previous to her being brought to my home, my mother had said playfully—"I have a pretty present for my Victor—to-morrow he shall have it." And when, on the morrow, she presented Elizabeth to me as her promised gift, I, with childish seriousness, interpreted her words literally, and looked upon Elizabeth as mine—mine to protect, love, and cherish. All praises bestowed on her, I received as made to a possession of my own. We called each other familiarly by the name of cousin. No word, no expression could body forth the kind of relation in which she stood to me—my more than sister, since till death she was to be mine only.


Excerpted from "Frankenstein"
by .
Copyright © 2003 Mary Shelley.
Excerpted by permission of Penguin Publishing Group.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Table of Contents

Mystery on the ice — The dead come back to life — Death in the family — A broken promise — The end of Frankenstein.

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Frankenstein 3.6 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 253 reviews.
BluWolf More than 1 year ago
This is a reprint of the original text. It is considerably different from other versions, and the sections that were altered in later editions are included in appendices for the reader's use or curiosity. The Oxford edition, like their other classics, offers many notes on the text, additional resources, a chronology of the author's life, and many explanatory notes that help the reader move right along in the text. I highly recommend this version for schools. I used this in a college class and made a much more efficient use of my time because the legwork that the editors have done to provide comments and notes saved me from having to discover allusions or references for myself or skip them altogether. It's a great story. If you chose to look more closely, this book raises a lot of questions about human interests at their core. The book, although almost two centuries old, raises questions that are still relevant today - some of which still have no definite answer.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
With missing passages and characters in place of letters, this version is a ghastly abomination of Shelley's masterpiece, and more than challenging to read. There are better copies out there!
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Don't get this copy!! There is gibberish all over the place from Google that, in my opinion, is too distracting to be overlooked. I haven't even read the book yet and just deleted my copy from my nook in search for a better version!
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
While this specific downloadable edition of Frankenstien I do not suggest (it lacks many important things such as discernable chapters and has the Google logo sprinkled throught in the most inconvienent places). Mary Shelly's Frankenstien is one of the few "classic" novels worth such an esteemed title, telling the tale of an unloved outcast and how a lack of compassion can turn a blank slate of a person into a vengeful monster.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Why are you people using the review section to pretend to be cats from warriors? The review section is supposed to be used to tell people how they thought the book they read was and give a comment that can help people decide whether they want the book, not to pretend to be cats. The book "Frankenstein" is a great classic and a good read.
Guest More than 1 year ago
we all know frankestein as the this book you understand the feelings of mother who has the heartbreak of his dead child, how she was disappointed,how hard she tried to give birth to his child who left the world she was living in.
DavidGraves on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
My researches revealed Mary Shelley wrote this gothic masterpiece when still only 22 years old. Beautiful descriptive prose, inventive central ideas combining new scientfic ideas with Man's vaunting ambition. Often poignant. Mary's original narrative is far superior to the modern parodies available.
Borg-mx5 on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
A good, not great novel. Definitely worth a read, especially if you are only familiar with the films.
Stormrose on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
10/20. Ooo, halfway through the goal! Yay! (although this is a class book, so it doesn't really count...but whatever). I absolutely loved this book. Loved, loved, loved, loved. The fact that Mary Shelley wrote it when she was eighteen is stunning to me. It's got gothic, science fiction, philosophy, realism, travel narrative and bildungsroman all built into one. It's also one of the most morally challenging and ambiguous science fiction texts I have read. And yes, I do consider "Frankenstein" the foundational text of science fiction. You have to read it very carefully to pick up all the nuances, but it's absolutely worth it. Highly recommended.
Imshi on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
I really didn't like this one. Maybe it's because of all the hype about it - surely after that anything would be a letdown. The reason I didn't like it was this: I felt that the themes of the novel were very interesting (knowledge, humanity, etc.) but I felt the execution was poor. Some key events in the novel depended on far too convenient plot devices (The monster needs to learn about humankind and morality! Oh, look, there's a random suitcase of philosophy texts lying in the woods! How convenient!) and because of that for me the plausibility of it suffered. And I KNOW it's meant to be a fantastic as opposed to realistic story, but I feel that with really, really good writing an author can make readers believe in things that are fantastic and implausible - and the writing in this book definitely didn't do that. Giving it two stars only because it's remained popular this long, so I suppose there must be something going for it.
Osbaldistone on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
First - this particular edition (Fall River Press, 2006, Illustrated by Lynd Ward) is a beautiful edition to a library, both because of Ward's numerous illustrations, but also the overall book design. Regarding Shelley's novel, the tale in this work is is the movie I wish Hollywood had made. A must read for gothic novel fans. Don't expect to find a monosyllabic monster, an assistant named Igor, villagers charging around with torches, or a castle tower capturing lightening to feed a roomful of hardware. As with Stoker's "Dracula" compared to Hollywood's, the impact of Shelley's "Frankenstein" is from the suggestion of the monster more than the monster itself. Victor Frankenstein's creation is rarely in the frame, but his influence on the events of the novel is ubiquitous. Frankly, I think this is a much better story than what Hollywood came up with. The main reason I didn't rate this 4 stars is that I found Frankenstein really annoying in his repeated observations about how much worse off he was than the vicitims of the creature, and his willingess to not worry about the creature's actions as long as it wasn't directed as his friends and family. There is no real protagonist, and certainly no hero in this novel, and that makes it a bit less than satisfying in the end.Os.
leperdbunny on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
Title: FrankensteinAuthor: Mary ShelleyGenre: Horror# of pages: 222Start date:End date:Borrowed/bought: boughtMy rating of the book, F- [worst] to A [best]: BDescription of the book: Victor Frankenstein grew up in the picturesque Geneva and later Ingolstadt. Frankenstein toils away to create a creature and the moment it comes alive he runs away out of fear.Review: Again, another classic book- very gothic horror- atmospheric with all of the descriptions of nature in juxtapose with the horror of the creature that was created. I really, truly did not understand Victor's sudden pure hatred for his creature. I think I would have enjoyed the read a bit better had I mentally made myself slow down when reading it. It did have a very ghost story feel to it. This would have been fun to read around a campfire!
melydia on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
Forget all the Frankenstein stereotypes you know. Forget Igor, grave robbing, neck bolts, electricity, and mobs of angry villagers carrying torches. Victor Frankenstein is a student of natural philosophy (what science was evidently called back then) who plays with chemicals in order to create life from dead tissue. The monster, which remains nameless throughout the story, so frightens Victor that he runs away and tries to forget about it. The monster, initially gentle but driven to cruelty by the repeated condemnation by mankind, vows to ruin Victor's life in return for creating his misery. It's an interesting story, one that touches less obviously on the ethics of scientific experimentation, but says quite a lot about the unfortunate importance of beauty in society. Victor is more naive and pitiful than evil or mad. Definitely one worth reading, but don't go in expecting anything like those famous old movies.
tjsjohanna on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
For all its faults, the introduction reminds me that this is one of the few Gothic novels that is still read today. There is much that a modern reader would find difficult to believe - primarily the idea that a created being with no instruction, could become not only literate but positively academic in his mode of expression. Not to mention being able to develop the skills to keep himself alive with the assistance of not a single person. But putting that aside, there is a true theme of horror in this novel - not of the creature, but of the cavalier way in which Frankenstein creates life and then abandons his responsibility. Not only abandons, but rejects, again and again, the moral imperative he has to care for his creation. This is a cautionary tale against pursuing knowledge beyond the ability to take responsibility for that knowledge.
pauliharman on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
Like Dracula, this was a book that I felt I had to read, rather than one I strictly wanted to. And after having read Dracula and been rather disappointed, I approached Frankenstein with more than a little trepidation.To begin with though I was pleasantly surprised; the prose was easier to read and the story sufficiently engaging.However as the story progressed, and the protagonist's endless "woe is me" act continued, I found myself having more sympathy for the innocent monster than with the rich idiot who refused to face up to his responsibilities and deal with the consequences of his actions. By the end, I was cheering the monster on to kill Frankenstien, if it would only stop his constant whining.
dickcraig on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
I have read the main novel three times and bought this book to round out my collection. It captures the essence of the book.
Wolfsong on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
Realizing there are some books I am just never going to get around to, I've decided to at least have the experience of having them read to me via audiobook. I don't consider this a substitution for the reading process, but it ranks as number two when it comes to experiencing a work of literature. I chose FRANKENSTEIN first.I'm glad to finally have experienced this story in its original form. Great story, but it left me sad and angry. I have grown to really despise Victor Frankenstein, a creator who abandoned his creation at the onset, merely because he was ugly. No one in the book affords the Creature any lasting sympathy, this is left only for the readers, if they are so inclined. Even the explorer from the book's framing sequence seems to side with Victor and he supposedly hear the tale exactly as I did. As the book drew to a close I was astounded that he felt admiration for Victor after the man's own tale exposed him as self-pitying, sniveling and often stupid coward. I suppose Mary Shelley must have been commenting on the society she lived in. Strangely, it makes me appreciate the character of Frederick Frankenstein in the comedy YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN more, as he is practically the antithesis of Victor, showing care and compassion for his creation despite his appearance.
sapphireblueeye on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
I hated this book. It was boring. It was dense. The descriptions seemed to never end. None of the characters were at all likeable. I couldn't wait to be finished with it!
robreadsbooks on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
Those of you who have preconceived notions about this story because you've seen the Hollywood film versions, read this book. You'll be pleasantly surprised. I guarantee it. This is nothing like the film and so much better. Shelley, in her brilliance, offers the hideous creature as the one to pity here. Not Frankenstein, not the townspeople, but the creature. A sad victim of his creator's selfish ambitions and the prejudices of a naive populace. In a way, a neglected and abused child, driven to acts of violence and rage as the only release from the agonizing rejection and isolation. His only real crime was his consuming need for acceptance...a love and be loved. This book was so ahead of its time when it was written. I highly recommend it. One of my favorites.
MeditationesMartini on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
I'm gonna give you two ways in which this book is laughable bullshit, and then counter with two ways in which it's a stunning triumph.Bullshit 1: Stylistics. I know this was ground out over a summer by a girl who hadn't really written anything before and etc., etc., but there are a lot of rough freakin' passages in this story. I'm not going to quote the one I'd intended to. This is a bit of a half-assed review. I think she smoothed most of them out in the 1831 text anyway.Bullshit 2: On a related note, plot mechanics. Really, dude? You just couldn't take the time to make sure your monster didn't escape? You just ran away and assumed everything would be fine? You couldn't bring yourself to tell the truth, just so you could feel bad when they executed that poor girl? Even with the singular psychology and crazy madness of old Franko, that's pushing it a bit far. But the most ludicrous thing is that it never even occurred to him that "I will be with you on your wedding night" might possibly imply some threat to Elizabeth, as opposed to Victor the golden boy - like, I know it's a convention of the Gothic, but come on, are you writing a parable or are you writing psychological realism?Triumph 1: The central myth is so hard hitting. Like, that's why we've had a hundred Frankensteins since, although the "Adam" version has it all over the bolts-in-neck Karloff guy. Incidentally, am I crazy in remembering this as totally different from last time? Like, the ice, yes, the wedding night, yes, but I thought there was a lot more emphasis on the initial creation (castle, slab, roof opening, lightning, etc.) and the bride. Maybe I just read a movie novelization as a kid and mistook it for the real thing.Triumph 2: the psychological sketch of Frankenstein. He's not "misunderstood genius," that cliche - he's understood genius. He's supportive, brilliant, loving family, golden boy, always fulfilling everyone's high expectations, it's not about duty it's about the stifling quality of love for the egomaniac who still knows how to love. How hard did his going away to Ingolstadt remind me of me running away to Austria and then deciding that wasn't far enough from friends and family and it was gonna have to be Kazakhstan next? How creeping and sick is the realization that realism aside, this paragon basically, symbolically, strangled his own wife so he could feel bad about it and be tragic? How shivery is it when the monster is so much like him, in loves hates rage and misanthropy and the total inability to wrap himself up in humanity? I mean, in a general sense "the monster IS Frankenstein" is a filmic metonymy and an overall cliche, but when you look at it close, really: how much difference is there between Frankenstein creating his monster and Jekyll creating Hyde? Everything is permitted when you put on your mask of sutures and dead flesh. Kill them: then you can miss them, and carry on your important work in their name.
slarsoncollins on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
Wow. What a book. Just goes to show things aren't always black and white, but that there are many shades of gray in between. The story centers around Victor Frankenstein, a brilliant scientist, who creates life in his laboratory. Driven by an insatiable desire to bring back the spark of life, he is disgusted and repulsed by his final creation and casts the creature out. This hideous being, denied even the smallest show of kindness or love, pleads with his creator for a symbol of compassion. Again denied, the monster turns against his maker and a life and death struggle ensues. When I turned the final page (or clicked onto the final page), I was left wondering: Who is the real monster?
rabbitrun on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
Victor Frankenstein discovers the secret of creating life and fashions an eight-foot monster, only to bring danger and destruction to the lives of those he loves after the creature is rejected by society.
Renz0808 on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
I have seen the numerous reproductions of the Frankenstein theme and I felt like I was rather familiar with the plot. Recently, I realized that I am a bit ashamed that I have yet to read this book for myself since along with Dracula it is considered such a classic horror story. I was so surprised as I started reading this book to find that all of the things I had thought about the story were actually wrong. This book is not so much about horror as it is about the basic human emotion for love and acceptance that we continually search for, and while the movies touch on this theme a bit the book is mostly about this thought. In a sense it is not so much horrifying as it is sad and disturbing, but the brilliance of the story is that it really makes you step back and look at yourself and what it means to be human. A Swiss medical student, Victor Frankenstein, discovers the secret of life and decides to build a man from various corpuses. He becomes horrified by what he creates and runs away from what he considers a monster. The creature suffers from a fair amount of confusion and neglect and begins to see himself as a terrifying monster. He is incredible smart and is able to teach himself language and means of communication through watching a poor family. He discovers the truth about his identity and begins to seek revenge on his creator. Through a series of tragic events Victor Frankenstein chases his creation around the world meaning to rid humanity from it.
syunya on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
Through the book, I learned real sadness and loneliness. A monster, he is usually called Frankenstein. But the name is creater of Frankenstein. First he is kind. But he changes evil by degrees because people around him hate his face. I thought human is stupid.
elfortunawe on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
This is one of those classics that everyone knows about but that few ever actually read. The actual content of the book is so different from what people believe they know about it that I can't help but think someone (probably long dead by now, and safe from prosecution) has played an elaborate prank on the world, for reasons which will likely remain forever lost to the gentle perturbations of passing time.The story has a nested, tripartite, epistolary structure, being presented as a collection of letters by a young polar explorer named Robert Walton to his sister in England. Within this is nestled the story of the eponymous Dr. Frankenstein, who is found by the explorer and his crew on the pack ice. And comfortably holstered in Dr. Frankenstein's tale is the narrative of the life of Frankenstein's Monster, who relates his story to Frankenstein in the Alps, prior to Walton's discovery of Frankenstein near the North Pole.Mary Shelley was a Romantic, and, like most Romantics, was rather prolix and agitated. The novel maintains a fairly constant emotional tone, leaving the reader feeling a bit drained after only a few pages. All 3 of the narrative voices seem to be constantly on the edge of some unbearable sensation. Sometimes it's joy, but for the vast majority of the work it's despondency, so it's best taken in small doses.It might be easy to take this famous story for granted, but the reader should remember what a novel blend of ideas this was for the time. It's influence has been so thorough that it can be difficult to detect it's presence, but it can be readily perceived in the works of H.P. Lovecraft.