Turns out, Frankenstein isn’t the monster but the scientist, and the monster is less of a mindless brut and more of a lonely and isolated creature that feels so abandoned. This book was heavy and thought-provoking and I found myself sympathizing with the creature to the point where I justified some of his poor (to put it lightly) actions. There is a reason this is a classic. Absolutely beautifully written. When I finished it I wanted to watch all the film adaptions of this book, but after looking at all the options, I decided against it. It looks like they all missed the point of this story of a creature and his creator.