Frankenstein at 200: the birth of a gothic monster

Blackleaf

Hall of Fame Member
Oct 9, 2004
49,923
1,908
113
1st January 2018 marked 200 years since one of the great works of British literature was published: Mary Shelley's Frankenstein....

Frankenstein at 200: the birth of a gothic monster


This month, Mary Shelley’s ground-breaking novel Frankenstein turns 200. It was one of the first gothic explorations of artificial life, telling a terrible tale of doomed scientist Victor Frankenstein who gives life to a hulking, unnamed ‘Creature’. Here, Dr Sorcha Ní Fhlainn considers Shelley’s inspirations for her creation and shares the legacy of the much-adapted work…

Wednesday 3rd January 2018
Dr Sorcha Ní Fhlainn
BBC History Magazine


Actor Boris Karloff as Frankenstein's Monster in James Whale’s classic 1931 film. (Bettmann/Getty Images)


January 2018 marks the bicentennial anniversary of Mary Shelley’s novel Frankenstein. Two hundred years since its publication, it is important to note the continuing importance Shelley’s novel has today, and the contributions it has made to gothic studies and science fiction studies across literature, as well as its subsequent adaptations for the stage, film and television in the 20th and 21st centuries.

Mary Shelley’s description of a figure galvanised with unnatural life, a stitched and hideous sapient medical creation, was inspired by a nightmare while on holiday with Percy Bysshe Shelley [whom she married later in 1816], Lord Byron and Dr John Polidori, at Villa Diodati near Lake Geneva in Switzerland during ‘the year without a summer’ of 1816. The dream sowed the seeds for what would become Frankenstein’s most memorable chapter, in which Victor Frankenstein beholds the monstrosity upon which he has conferred unnatural life.

The year of 1816 was born of significant gothic weather worldwide, due to plumes of volcanic ash which had erupted a year earlier from Mount Tambora, Indonesia, and had significantly cooled temperatures across the globe, adversely affecting food production and regular seasonal climates. This dark summer proved to be strangely fruitful for these burgeoning Romantics. Lord Byron’s suggestion of a ghost story competition to while away their Swiss holiday not only inspired Shelley’s novel Frankenstein, but also Polidori’s short prose The Vampyre (1819), which later became a source of inspiration for Bram Stoker’s seminal work Dracula (1897).


Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley (née Godwin), the English novelist. (Photo by Hulton Archive/Getty Images)

Shelley recalls in her introduction to the 1831 edition of Frankenstein that her nightmare was inspired by a late-night discussion between Bysshe Shelley and Byron about the then ‘fashionable’ scientific topic of galvanism. This was the study of electricity to stimulate muscle contraction and produce chemical reactions, which led to fantastical concepts of a liminal state between life and death as explored through the creation of Frankenstein’s tragic creature.

Further to this discussion, which would inspire her greatest contribution to gothic literature, her own loss of a prematurely born child in 1815 undoubtedly bore influence too, as Victor brings about an unnatural birth by infusing his own assembled ‘dead’ creation with unnatural life. Shelley’s own childhood may have also contributed to thematic fears and concerns evident in Frankenstein, particularly noted by critics as anxieties about motherhood and the precarious nature of birth, of which she was painfully aware: the untimely death of her own mother, Mary Wollstonecraft, a women's rights campaigner, eleven days after Shelley’s own birth in 1797 was a keenly felt absence. Raised by her father, the philosopher William Godwin, and acutely aware of herself as the progeny of significant intellectuals, Shelley lacked confidence as an author in her own right, and developed her talents with Percy Bysshe Shelley’s encouragement. Shelley’s personal life was further shaped by many tragedies in her adult life – only one of her children with Bysshe Shelley would survive into adulthood, and she was widowed in her mid-20s following the tragic death of Bysshe Shelley in 1822 (he drowned off the coast of Italy).


A cover illustration from a late 19th century popular edition of Shelley’s ‘Frankenstein’. (Photo by Ann Ronan Pictures/Print Collector/Getty Images)

Adaptations of a seminal novel

For many, Frankenstein lives on as a seminal novel which achieved a significant afterlife on the stage and screen. While its earliest adaptation to the stage is recorded in 1823, titled Presumption; or The Fate of Frankenstein, the Edison studios [Thomas Edison’s film company] produced a short film based on the novel in 1910. The film showcased the creature’s duality with his creator, and foregrounded cinematic special effects, make-up and editing to illuminate the twin fates of Victor (played by Augustus Phillips) and his hideous double (played by Charles Stanton Ogle). Initially believed to be lost (as many early silent films perished through degraded film stock and poor storage practices), it was rediscovered in the mid-1970s and copied for preservation purposes; further restorations were conducted by the film society at the University of Geneva in 2016.


The reanimated monster, played by Boris Karloff, meets his maker, played by Colin Clive in a 1931 version of ’Frankenstein'. (Photo via John Kobal Foundation/Getty Images)

Frankenstein is one of the most adapted gothic stories for the screen (second only to Dracula), with significant versions adding distinct looks to the creature which, to this day, bears great significance in popular culture. Most iconic of all is Boris Karloff’s portrayal of the creature in James Whale’s classic 1931 version for Universal Studios. His emotional innocence and awkwardness are enhanced by make-up artist Jack Pierce’s distinctive make-up, including the bolts in his neck, green-tinged skin and lumbering plodding walk. Later, Hammer studios presented the creature (played by Christopher Lee) in The Curse of Frankenstein (1957) as a physically disjointed specimen, a victim of Frankenstein’s madness sutured together to include the harvested ‘best parts’ of other people – the brain of a noted professor, the hands of an artist, grafted onto the body of a hanged criminal – which, once reanimated, are lost talents which cannot simply be reanimated or transferred.

More recent adaptations and modifications to the tale include Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner (1982), which significantly draws upon Shelley’s theme of Promethean fire, life stolen from the gods and bestowed by an irresponsible creator. If anything, the ‘Tears in Rain’ speech made by the character Roy Batty (played by Rutger Hauer) at the climax of the film reveals the voice of a similar ‘othered’ creature such as Shelley’s creation. His capability to learn, to see and to feel are contrasted with the blind ambition and unfeeling nature of his creator, Tyrell (played by Joe Turkel).

Kenneth Branagh’s adaptation to the screen in 1994 restores narrative elements frequently stripped away in filmic adaptation. This version includes the epistolary framing narrative through the diary of Captain Walton, showing the vogue in early 1990s Hollywood to return to the novel when creating new adaptations of classic gothic literature. Branagh, who plays Victor and directs this retelling, restores the humanity and physicality to the creature (played by Robert De Niro) while also explicitly emphasising their uncanny doubling; in a prolonged birth sequence in which the creature is galvanised in a vat of harvested amniotic fluid, Branagh’s film emphasises this creation as a fleshy physical being. More recently, Danny Boyle’s staging of Nick Dear’s stage adaptation explicitly marks the creature (the central character in this version) as his creator’s explicit double through the casting of Benedict Cumberbatch and Jonny Lee Miller in alternating roles as the creature and Victor in this sensational production.


The covered monster lies before Kenneth Branagh in a scene from the film 'Frankenstein', 1994. (Photo by TriStar/Getty Images)

Frankenstein endures as a warning of transgression, of human hubris and terrible ambition realised. It marks the first gothic exploration of artificial life, gives rise to the burgeoning science fiction genre, and remains a literary classic concerned with the liminality between life and death.


5 things you probably didn’t know about Frankenstein and Mary Shelley:


The 1818 edition of the novel was published anonymously, and the preface written by Percy Bysshe Shelley was misinterpreted as his claim of authorship. The 1823 reprinted version bears Mary Shelley’s name as author.

Presumption; or The Fate of Frankenstein
, the first stage adaptation of Shelley’s novel, debuted at the Lyceum Theatre, London, in the autumn of 1823 to popular acclaim. From 1878, author Bram Stoker managed the theatre and would go on to write Dracula, the most adapted gothic monster in popular culture.


While Frankenstein is Shelley’s most known work, she continued to write throughout her life, including another science fiction novel about fatal apocalyptic plague, The Last Man (1826), as well as essays and travelogues.

Frankenstein’s creature is the second most adapted monster to the screen, only to be outranked by Stoker’s Count Dracula. The most adapted human onscreen is Sherlock Holmes.


Mary Shelley kept Percy Bysshe Shelley’s calcified heart as a treasured keepsake following his cremation, until it was buried with their son Sir Percy Florence Shelley in 1889.

Dr Sorcha Ní Fhlainn is a senior lecturer in Film Studies and American Studies at Manchester Metropolitan University and reviews editor for Gothic Studies (Manchester University Press).

Frankenstein at 200: the birth of a gothic monster | History Extra
 
Last edited:

Hoid

Hall of Fame Member
Oct 15, 2017
20,408
4
36
A great book. It isn't about a hideous monster who has super human strength. It's about the concept of the human soul. A must read for anyone interested in liberals arts.
 

Blackleaf

Hall of Fame Member
Oct 9, 2004
49,923
1,908
113
A great book. It isn't about a hideous monster who has super human strength. It's about the concept of the human soul. A must read for anyone interested in liberals arts.

I've been wanting to read it for a while. I looked for it in WHSmith on Monday in the "Classics" section but couldn't find it, so I bought "Dracula" by Bram Stoker instead.

I've just got past the bit where London solicitor Jonathan Harker travels on a coach through the sheer creepiness of Transylvania (which is in Romania), through the forests of the Carpathians with wolves howling and locals in traditional clothing, to meet up with a certain Count Dracula regarding the Count's buying of a London house. I've now just arrived at the bit where Harker has arrived at Dracula's castle and has met the count - who, unlike on TV and films, has bushy hair and a white moustache - dined (Dracula refused to eat), smoked a cigar, and had a little chat with the Count before spending his first night in the castle. It dawned on Mr Harker, too, that, curiously, he has not seen any mirrors in the castle.

The novel "Dracula" as it looked when it first appeared in bookshops in 1897, price 6 shillings:

 
Last edited:

Retired_Can_Soldier

The End of the Dog is Coming!
Mar 19, 2006
12,399
1,371
113
60
Alberta
I've read both when I was younger, although I must admit that I found Dracula a very challenging read. Frankenstein's monster was my first and favorite monster. I have an illustrated copy of Shelley's book on my desk.

For it's time, it was an extremely daring book.
 

Curious Cdn

Hall of Fame Member
Feb 22, 2015
37,070
8
36
I've read both when I was younger, although I must admit that I found Dracula a very challenging read. Frankenstein's monster was my first and favorite monster. I have an illustrated copy of Shelley's book on my desk.

For it's time, it was an extremely daring book.

I don't recall having either a first or a favourite monster, myself.
 

Danbones

Hall of Fame Member
Sep 23, 2015
24,505
2,198
113
Wooden stakes and silver bullets...tally sticks and silver coin...
...sucking the compound interest out of everything...
;)
Like the wizard of OZ, it's an allegory about bankers.
 

Blackleaf

Hall of Fame Member
Oct 9, 2004
49,923
1,908
113
I've read both when I was younger, although I must admit that I found Dracula a very challenging read. Frankenstein's monster was my first and favorite monster. I have an illustrated copy of Shelley's book on my desk.

For it's time, it was an extremely daring book.

The thing about Dracula is that it's not written as a normal novel. The whole novel is excerpts from Harker's journal and letters and telegrams written by other characters. I'm not finding it too difficult at the moment, though. I'll just have to see how it is as it goes on.

Jonathan Harker's Journal Continued

5 May. - I must have been asleep, for certainly if I had been fully awake I must have noticed the approach of such a remarkable place. In the gloom the courtyard looked of considerable size, and as several dark ways led from it under great round arches, it perhaps seemed bigger than it really is. I have not yet been able to see it by daylight.

When the caleche
[a light low-wheeled carriage with a removable folding hood] stopped, the driver jumped down and held out his hand to assist me to alight. Again I could not but notice his prodigious strength. His hand actually seemed like a steel vice that could have crushed mine if he had chosen. Then he took my traps [luggage], and placed them on the ground beside me as I stood close to a great door, old and studded with large iron nails, and set in a projecting doorway of massive stone. I could see even in the dim light that the stone was massively carved, but that the carving had been much worn by time and weather. As I stood, the driver jumped again into his seat and shook the reins. The horses started forward, and trap and all disappeared down one of the dark openings.

I stood in silence where I was, for I did not know what to do. Of bell or knocker there was no sign. Through these frowning walls and dark window openings it was not likely that my voice could penetrate. The time I waited seemed endless, and I felt doubts and fears crowding upon me. What sort of place had I come to, and among what kind of people? What sort of grim adventure was it on which I had embarked? Was this a customary incident in the life of a solicitor's clerk sent out to explain the purchase of a London estate to a foreigner?

Solicitor's clerk! Mina would not like that. Solicitor, for just before leaving London I got word that my examination was successful, and I am now a full-blown solicitor! I began to rub my eyes and pinch myself to see if I were awake. It all seemed like a horrible nightmare to me, and I expected that I should suddenly awake, and find myself at home, with the dawn struggling in through the windows, as I had now and again felt in the morning after a day of overwork. But my flesh answered the pinching test, and my eyes were not to be deceived. I was indeed awake and among the Carpathians. All I could do now was to be patient, and to wait the coming of morning.

Just as I had come to this conclusion I heard a heavy step approaching behind the great door, and saw through the chinks the gleam of a coming light. Then there was the sound of rattling chains and the clanking of massive bolts drawn back. A key was turned with the loud grating noise of long disuse, and the great door swung back.

Within stood a tall old man, clean shaven save for a long white moustache, and clad in black from head to foot, without a single speck of colour about him anywhere. He held in his hand an antique silver lamp, in which the flame burned without a chimney or globe of any kind, throwing long quivering shadows as it flickered in the draught of the open door. The old man motioned me in with his right hand with a courtly gesture, saying in excellent English, but with a strange intonation:

"Welcome to my house! Enter freely and of your own free will!" He made no motion of stepping to meet me, but stood like a statue, as though his gesture of welcome had fixed him into stone. The instant, however, that I had stepped over the threshold, he moved impulsively forward, and holding out his hand grasped mine with a strength which made me wince, an effect which was not lessened by the fact that it seemed cold as ice, more like the hand of a dead than a living man. Again he said:

"Welcome to my house! Enter freely. Go safely, and leave something of the happiness you bring!" The strength of the handshake was so much akin to that which I had noticed in the driver, whose face I had not seen, that for a moment I doubted if it were not the same person to whom I was speaking. So to make sure, I said interrogatively, "Count Dracula?"

He bowed in a courtly way as he replied, "I am Dracula, and I bid you welcome, Mr. Harker, to my house. Come in, the night air is chill, and you must need to eat and rest." As he was speaking, he put the lamp on a bracket on the wall, and stepping out, took my luggage. He had carried it in before I could forestall him. I protested, but he insisted.

"Nay, sir, you are my guest. It is late, and my people are not available. Let me see to your comfort myself." He insisted on carrying my traps along the passage, and then up a great winding stair, and along another great passage, on whose stone floor our steps rang heavily. At the end of this he threw open a heavy door, and I rejoiced to see within a well-lit room in which a table was spread for supper, and on whose mighty hearth a great fire of logs, freshly replenished, flamed and flared.

The Count halted, putting down my bags, closed the door, and crossing the room, opened another door, which led into a small octagonal room lit by a single lamp, and seemingly without a window of any sort. Passing through this, he opened another door, and motioned me to enter. It was a welcome sight. For here was a great bedroom well lighted and warmed with another log fire, also added to but lately, for the top logs were fresh, which sent a hollow roar up the wide chimney. The Count himself left my luggage inside and withdrew, saying, before he closed the door:

"You will need, after your journey, to refresh yourself by making your toilet. I trust you will find all you wish. When you are ready, come into the other room, where you will find your supper prepared."

The light and warmth and the Count's courteous welcome seemed to have dissipated all my doubts and fears. Having then reached my normal state, I discovered that I was half famished with hunger. So making a hasty toilet, I went into the other room.

I found supper already laid out. My host, who stood on one side of the great fireplace, leaning against the stonework, made a graceful wave of his hand to the table, and said:

"I pray you, be seated and sup how you please. You will I trust, excuse me that I do not join you, but I have dined already, and I do not sup."

I handed to him the sealed letter which Mr. Hawkins had entrusted to me. He opened it and read it gravely. Then, with a charming smile, he handed it to me to read. One passage of it, at least, gave me a thrill of pleasure.

"I must regret that an attack of gout, from which malady I am a constant sufferer, forbids absolutely any travelling on my part for some time to come. But I am happy to say I can send a sufficient substitute, one in whom I have every possible confidence. He is a young man, full of energy and talent in his own way, and of a very faithful disposition. He is discreet and silent, and has grown into manhood in my service. He shall be ready to attend on you when you will during his stay, and shall take your instructions in all matters."

The count himself came forward and took off the cover of a dish, and I fell to at once on an excellent roast chicken. This, with some cheese and a salad and a bottle of old tokay, of which I had two glasses, was my supper. During the time I was eating it the Count asked me many questions as to my journey, and I told him by degrees all I had experienced.

By this time I had finished my supper, and by my host's desire had drawn up a chair by the fire and begun to smoke a cigar which he offered me, at the same time excusing himself that he did not smoke. I had now an opportunity of observing him, and found him of a very marked physiognomy.

His face was a strong, a very strong, aquiline, with high bridge of the thin nose and peculiarly arched nostrils, with lofty domed forehead, and hair growing scantily round the temples but profusely elsewhere. His eyebrows were very massive, almost meeting over the nose, and with bushy hair that seemed to curl in its own profusion. The mouth, so far as I could see it under the heavy moustache, was fixed and rather cruel-looking, with peculiarly sharp white teeth.

These protruded over the lips, whose remarkable ruddiness showed astonishing vitality in a man of his years. For the rest, his ears were pale, and at the tops extremely pointed. The chin was broad and strong, and the cheeks firm though thin. The general effect was one of extraordinary pallor.


A story as gripping as Frankenstein and almost as monstrous: Horror writer Mary Shelley eloped at 16 and endured disgrace, debt, her poet husband Percy’s affairs and the deaths of three children

Frankenstein written by Mary Shelley was published exactly 200 years ago

Fiona Sampson uncovers defining moments in Mary Shelley's life in a new book

She reveals how a challenge to write a ghost story led to the famous Gothic novel

By Ysenda Maxtone Graham For The Daily Mail
4 January 2018

BOOK OF THE WEEK

IN SEARCH OF MARY SHELLEY


by Fiona Sampson (Profile Books £18.99)




Exactly 200 years ago, in January 1818, Frankenstein was published: a Gothic page-turner of a novel that has never been out of print since.

It gripped the nation, but shocked critics because it portrayed the creation of a man-made, rather than God-made, human being: an 8ft-tall, yellow-eyed creature made in a laboratory by a student called Victor Frankenstein.

The student, disgusted by his hideous creation, abandons it. The monster, lonely and loathed, roams round Europe taking revenge.

It was out of the feverish imagination of an 18-year-old girl, Mary Shelley, that this ghoulish bit of early science fiction sprang. So who was Mary? And what was her life like? Well, Frankenstein might be thrilling, but I found this story of its creator just as much of a page-turner in its way.


Mary Shelley (pictured) wrote the Gothic novel Frankenstein 200 years ago

Fiona Sampson is a sleuth of a biographer, combing the details of Mary’s journals and letters for clues to the truth about her experiences and feelings. Rarely has my jaw dropped on so many occasions while reading a biography. Something horrible is always just round the corner.

The horror begins in chapter one, when Mary’s mother, Mary Wollstonecraft, revolutionary author of A Vindication Of The Rights Of Woman, dies an agonising death ten days after giving birth in 1797.

‘It was a common occurrence for clinicians fatally to infect women during childbirth,’ Sampson informs us. So much for the rights of women, then, in those days of doctors with dirty hands.

Mary’s life story, full of pathos, struggle and tragedy from that moment onwards, is also a vindication of the spirit of a woman who just goes on living and writing, though buffeted by unimaginable sadnesses — the next one being that her previously kind father, William Godwin, marries a grasping woman who becomes Mary’s unloving stepmother and turns him against her.

How does the poet Shelley come into the story? Mary’s father was a political philosopher and struggling publisher, running his failing business from a jerry-built premises in Holborn, and he desperately needed a man of means to support him financially. This man was the poet Percy Bysshe Shelley, heir to a baronetcy.

When Percy first set eyes on Mary, she was wearing a fetching tartan dress. I like Sampson’s summing-up of Mary’s vivacious character: ranging ‘from icily furious intellectual to pint-sized blonde in a fit of the giggles’.

Godwin lapped up Shelley’s money and depended on his income for ever after, but he was not happy when the already-married man eloped with his 16-year-old daughter. Sampson tells the story in the present tense, so it’s as if it’s happening to us, now. And the elopement scene with Shelley is so vivid that I felt both seasick and homesick reading it.

Madly in love with her irresistible 21-year-old poet, and dreaming of building a new life together in romantic Switzerland, Mary elopes with him across the Channel — but there’s a storm and the crossing takes 12 hours. She spends the whole night being sick.


Mary got the name of her famous character whilst passing German castle — the Burg Frankenstein on a journey into Switzerland


Weirdly, it’s not only the two of them eloping: Mary’s stepsister Jane comes along, too — Sampson suggests this might be because Shelley likes the idea of rescuing not one, but two, damsels in distress.

Jane will stick to the couple like a limpet for years, causing Mary untold anguish and repressed jealousy. Meanwhile, her stepmother is following in the boat behind theirs, trying to catch them in Calais and thus rescue the family’s respectability. She fails.

By spending a single night with Shelley, Mary has ruined her family’s reputation. This is not funny: Mary’s elder sister Fanny, now having no prospect of making a good marriage, will kill herself — just one side-effect of Shelley’s romantic impetuousness. Another is that his abandoned pregnant wife Harriet will also commit suicide, throwing herself into the Serpentine.

Do the eloping trio at least have a romantic onward journey through France to Switzerland in the post-Revolutionary dawn? Not a hope.

It’s all rat-infested inns, sprained ankles, running out of money, losing treasured possessions, accepting bad bargains for donkeys and terrible weather: ‘More like a holiday from hell than a romantic fantasy,’ writes Sampson.

When the weary group eventually limp into Switzerland, it’s so freezing in their filthy rented rooms that they last only a week before turning round and travelling all the way home, 800 miles along the Danube.

Sampson compares them to today’s feckless gap-year students running out of money.


Mary (pictured) became truly depressed after the death of her three year old son William


It’s on this journey that they pass a German castle — the Burg Frankenstein — giving Mary the idea for her character’s name.

Picture this scene two years later: Mary, Percy and Jane are staying at the poet Lord Byron’s villa on the edge of Lake Geneva. It’s supposed to be a summer holiday, but 1816 is ‘the year without a summer’, when Europe is swathed in rain, hail and ice for months, due to the eruption of a volcano in the East Indies. Jane is pregnant with Byron’s baby. There’s nothing to do during the cold evenings but regale each other with ghost stories.

Shelley looks at Mary one night and tells her he’s suddenly thinking of a woman who has eyes instead of nipples. And Byron says: ‘We’ll each write a ghost story.’ This challenge will prove to be the spark for Frankenstein.

The poets soon give up their efforts; but Mary keeps going. Her creation is astonishing. But is she allowed to become a feted author, the toast of literary London? Again, not a hope.

In order to keep her man, Mary spends most of her life packing up and moving. They’ve already lived in Holborn, Torquay, Clifton, Vauxhall, Knightsbridge, Pimlico, Bloomsbury, Windsor, Marlow and Bath, but as soon as Frankenstein is published, Shelley insists they move (still with Jane in tow, who has now changed her name to Claire) to Italy — where there’s a cholera epidemic.

Story as gripping as*Frankenstein* and almost as monstrous | Daily Mail Online
 
Last edited:

Retired_Can_Soldier

The End of the Dog is Coming!
Mar 19, 2006
12,399
1,371
113
60
Alberta
I don't recall having either a first or a favourite monster, myself.

Considering that 90% of my writing, from short story to full length novel is in the horror genre, first and favorite monster seems applicable.


The thing about Dracula is that it's not written as a normal novel. The whole novel is excerpts from Harker's journal and letters and telegrams written by other characters. I'm not finding it too difficult at the moment, though. I'll just have to see how it is as it goes on.

Yes, I know, and that is what I found challenging at a very young age. Stephen King used this writing style in the last Chapter of his breakout novel: Carrie. Stoker was probably an influence.

I still enjoyed the book, but I liked Frankenstein better.
 

Blackleaf

Hall of Fame Member
Oct 9, 2004
49,923
1,908
113
Considering that 90% of my writing, from short story to full length novel is in the horror genre, first and favorite monster seems applicable.




Yes, I know, and that is what I found challenging at a very young age. Stephen King used this writing style in the last Chapter of his breakout novel: Carrie. Stoker was probably an influence.

I still enjoyed the book, but I liked Frankenstein better.

I wasn't really into novels when I was a kid. I preferred, and still do, nonfiction. I read Chariots of the Gods when I was about ten.