Tags: frankenstein

Literature

End of the year: more about books.

At long last, finals are over. I have no idea how I did on my College Algebra final, and luckily I don't have to care, because unless I utterly failed it, I should still get a B in the class. And if I did utterly fail it -- I'll still get a C.

So. It's time once again for my embarrassingly short list-of-books-I-read-this year. I'm still a hell of a long way from "read your height in books," but I did better than last year, anyway. (And as usual, I'm not including stories and plays from collections -- just whole novels.)

Here, then, are the books, complete with commentary of great prolixity and spoileriness.

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Aaaand there you have it. I may not read much, but I sure do make long posts about it...
Holy Bibble: Satan - master of subtlety

"That'll teach you to sell dead people!"

Dude. What.

So, Frankenstein is another one of those books I've been meaning to read forever, but never quite got around to. I'm about halfway through it now. It's a pretty easy read, even in spite of its often needless verbosity. I'm... enjoying it, actually, I guess, even though the plot is not particularly engaging, and the style is rather unremarkable. Maybe I'm just so delighted to have a break from reading about Julien Sorel's tedious exploits that almost anything seems enjoyable... Ahem.

But apart from all that: Dude. Seriously. This is one hell of an eloquent and erudite two-year old monster. The thing is making offhanded references to Paradise Lost. What.

Frankly, if I were Mr. Frankenstein, I would be much less terrified by the fact that my gigantic, livid, misbegotten undead beastie was thundering toward me in a desolate place than by the fact that this thing's first words to me, rather than "Uuuuurgh," or even "Daddy," were, "I expected this reception." Followed by an outpouring of carefully enunciated entreaties sprinkled with biblical allusions. And angst.

Oy, Shelley. I'm sorry, mam'selle, but you -- are a silly person.

(The quote in the title, by the way, is not from Frankenstein. It's from a Russian folktale called "The Jester," which, alarmingly, is actually far much more sensible than this maddening "science" which the preface of Frankenstein boasts as "not of impossible occurence"...)