Frankenstein: eller den moderne Prometeus
描述
Mary Shelley’s narrative delves deep into the psychological turmoil of both creator and creation, using their intertwined fates to question the moral implications of unfettered ambition. Amid themes of loneliness and responsibility, the reader becomes privy to the conflict between aspiration and the ethical ramifications of one’s actions. This timeless story presents a chilling reflection on humanity's struggle with the concept of monstrosity, not only in physical form but in the choices that define who we are.
As the characters navigate their intertwined destinies, the reader is invited to ponder profound questions about identity, belonging, and the pursuit of power. The haunting legacy of Frankenstein encourages introspection about the boundaries of scientific exploration and the moral obligations that come with the ability to create. In the end, it serves as a cautionary tale, reminding all that with great power comes an even greater responsibility.
評論
Es un libro que lleva a una aventura totalmente nueva, no es solo sobre un hombre y una bestia sino sobre apariencia, ambiciones e injusticias sociales. Físicamente la criatura es no deseable, compuesta por distintos cuerpos, creada de una forma antinatural o fuera de la norma sin embargo desde sus inicios muestra una inocencia y bondad digna de un ser puro, su unica ambición es pertenecer y ser tratado con la misma gentileza que él entrega, lamentablemente solo por su fisico es repudiado y tratado como un monstruo por persona que lo ve. Al encontrarse con su creador le suplica que cree un ser femenino igual a el para no sentirsr solo, pero el verdadero frankenstein lo rechaza, lo repudia al igual que todos y provoca una ira incontrolable en la criatura que los lleva a una persecución y un final insatisfactorio para ambos. La autora aqui nos hace preguntarnos ¿quien es la verdadera bestia? ¿quien es realmente un monstruo? ¿La criatura creada o su creador? Un hombre ambicioso, que fue mas allá de cualquier limite y trabajó tanto para que esa satisfacción durara unos segundos y al darse cuenta de lo que habia creado y el limite sin retorno que cruzó provocó un punto de inflexión que lo llevó a una vida miserable, llena de angustia y tragedia hasta su muerte
This book dives straight into the consequences of unchecked ambition, the ethics of creation, and the devastating loneliness of being made “wrong” by the world before you ever get a chance to exist. Victor Frankenstein is brilliant but catastrophically irresponsible — he wants the glory of creating life, but none of the accountability that comes with it. His cowardice is honestly more monstrous than the creature’s violence.And the creature? Shelley gives him a terrifying level of emotional depth. He’s articulate, perceptive, painfully self-aware. His tragedy isn’t that he’s ugly — it’s that he learns empathy first, and cruelty second. Watching him shift from yearning for connection to calculating vengeance is the kind of character arc modern authors still try and fail to replicate.What really carries the novel is its atmosphere. The isolation. The raw, bleak landscapes mirroring the absolute unraveling of two souls who can’t escape each other. Shelley understood existential dread before we had a name for it.Is the pacing Victorian? Obviously. Does it meander? Sure. But the ideas are sharp enough to cut through any slow patches, and the emotional intelligence on display is still leagues above most contemporary “dark academia” imitators.Bottom line: Frankenstein is a masterpiece because it doesn’t just tell a story — it forces you to confront what responsibility, compassion, and monstrosity actually mean. And every time you reread it, you walk away with a slightly different answer.
This book dives straight into the consequences of unchecked ambition, the ethics of creation, and the devastating loneliness of being made “wrong” by the world before you ever get a chance to exist. Victor Frankenstein is brilliant but catastrophically irresponsible — he wants the glory of creating life, but none of the accountability that comes with it. His cowardice is honestly more monstrous than the creature’s violence.And the creature? Shelley gives him a terrifying level of emotional depth. He’s articulate, perceptive, painfully self-aware. His tragedy isn’t that he’s ugly — it’s that he learns empathy first, and cruelty second. Watching him shift from yearning for connection to calculating vengeance is the kind of character arc modern authors still try and fail to replicate.What really carries the novel is its atmosphere. The isolation. The raw, bleak landscapes mirroring the absolute unraveling of two souls who can’t escape each other. Shelley understood existential dread before we had a name for it.Is the pacing Victorian? Obviously. Does it meander? Sure. But the ideas are sharp enough to cut through any slow patches, and the emotional intelligence on display is still leagues above most contemporary “dark academia” imitators.Bottom line: Frankenstein is a masterpiece because it doesn’t just tell a story — it forces you to confront what responsibility, compassion, and monstrosity actually mean. And every time you reread it, you walk away with a slightly different answer.