Frankenstein

By: Mary Shelley / Narrated By: Dan Stevens

Length: 8 hrs and 35 mins

HiLARious… but, uhm, preeeetty sure twasn’t s’posed to be…

Oh waaaay back when, when I was but a tot scrambling all over the place with three older siblings, we watched A LOT of tv, and we delighted in monster movies. Like, the B-flicks, with effects so bad they’d make me cringe now, but at the time were so AWEsome. Frankenstein? You betcha; that was the monster who rather shambled along and grunted, right?

Uhm, noooot quite. ‘Twasn’t until I was a reading fanatic that I hit a 3-1 Classics book sale that I took on the actual story. Frankenstein was the jerk who created the sentient being; the sentient being? Nah, he was nameless, tho’ Frankenstein did indeed do a GREAT deal of name-calling, all of which gave his creature quite a complex. And oh? Frankenstein also made his creature kinda a huuuuge and somewhat hideous-looking poor guy.

Now do believe me when I tell you that this classic is a doozy, with gorgeous prose, the truly glorious wordsmith-ing of a bygone era (Go Mary, go!), and some heavy-duty story crafting to get both Frankenstein and his monster trotting across the globe and finally winding up all icebound around the North Pole (No seriously, Mary rocked her story!).

Frankenstein heads off to University inspired by the old alchemists, all of whom, he discovers, are frowned upon. Rather than shuck them off, he finds a single mentor, and his mind all a-whirl, he takes on the rather daunting and ill-considered task of imparting life to a creation all his own. And Ta-DAH! He does it… and looks at what he’s done… and steps back all horrified-like. Atwitter, he dashes away and comes back only to discover his creation has done-gone and now what’s he to do but suffer the first of his many fainting spells throughout the book.

And by the way? He’s hurt the monster’s feelings.

The monster longs to be included into the human-fold, and holes up next to a ramshackle impoverished cottage where an elderly blind man, and a brother and sister live, barely making it from day to day. Soooo greatly does he feel for them that he chops firewood for them and leaves it anonymously at the front door, desperately hoping to make their lives better. Whilst holed up, he learns language from them, and discovering a cache of books, he learns to read as well. When ready, he humbly knocks upon the door, hoping the old blind man will judge him by his words and deeds, rather than by his looks, and he hopes the gentleman will run interference for him with his offspring.

Alas, he’s a tad too desperate, and nobody likes THAT, and he wails and clutches at the old man, thereby freaking him sore-out, and thus do the offspring find him in this position. OUT BEAST! they cry (Or words to that effect), and so now our Monster is reeeeally peeved with Frankenstein, as in: HOW COULD YOU MAKE ME LIKE THIS?!?

Another run-in with a human who shoots him even tho’ he was just trying to save a child, has him even MORE peeved with Frankenstein, and he hunts his creator down, demanding a female version be created to keep him company. Things do not go well for either Frankenstein or for our lonesome “Monster”.

I say all this with tongue firmly planted in cheek, cuz it’s like this, see: When I read the book, I felt Shelley’s narrative was carefully plotted and skillfully executed: I felt for both the monster as a creature who didn’t ASK to be created, certainly not looking as he did; and I even felt a bit for Frankenstein as he paid such a steep price for his inglorious Whoopsie. But here?

Oh good golly gosh, it was just hiLARious. Now see, this is where I get to why: I have three versions of Frankenstein in m’ Library, but I soooo liked the tones and the cadence of veteran narrator Dan Stevens that his version is the one I chose.

YIKES!

He turned our monster into the biggest whiner and wailer imaginable: Oooooh, pooooor meeee; I’m a monster, I’m ugly, I’m soooo looooonely, boooo freaking hooooo…

I’ve never laughed so hard as I did when he corrals Frankenstein, demanding he crank out a girlfriend for him. Now now now, both Big Sis and I looked up Mr. Stevens’ other narrations, and dude! he’s the Go-To for Classics. Of COURSE he’d do Frankenstein. Alas, in trying to make our poor sod of a monster an empathetic character, he went way over the top with the whinging whining wailing.

And Frankenstein? Yeeeesh, what poor constitution as everything sends his health spiraling downward, thereby requiring SUCH bedrest and eeeeons of Me-Time to just get him to even keel. Stevens had me rolling around and braying laughter.

I KNOW! Poor Ms. Shelley is definitely rolling in her grave!

And there we have it: This is going to HAVE to be one of those audiobooks that I review at a later date with a different narrator, hoping to find THE One that does justice to an intricate storyline heavy on the drama and horror show. Seriously; I’ve done two A Christmas Carols and am hankering to get to a Performance version, so why not hit Frankenstein again?

Shelley had a rather tough life; she deserves a rave review SOMEtime with SOMEone else, no…?

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