It’s mid-October, which means the days are getting shorter, the air is becoming brisk, and everyone’s teacher is assigning them twelve chapters of Frankenstein by Monday.
Frankenstein is a good book. Yes, I’ll say it. I’ll even say it again, with an adverb: Frankenstein is a VERY good book. Yet it is one of those very good books that somehow manages to be both short and long at the same time. Maybe it’s because it was written in the 1800s. Maybe it’s because Victor spends a lot of the story napping. Whatever the reason, I feel like Mary Shelley could have spiced things up with a text message or two every once in a while. She invented science fiction as a teenager, for God’s sake. There’s no reason she couldn’t ALSO have invented the iPhone fully two hundred years before the technology was even available just so she could put it in her book.
Anyway, here is Frankenstein as told in a series of texts.