Books with title Frankenstein: Or, The Modern Prometheus Signet classics by Mary Shelley

Frankenstein or The Modern Prometheus, was completed by Mary Shelley at the age of 19. She infused this original novel with Gothic and Romantic elements. Scientist Victor Frankenstein creates a large and powerful creature in the likeness of man, but is disgusted by his own creation and he abandons the being to fend for itself. Spawning generations of horror stories in the genre, Frankenstein is a gruesome warning against playing God and attempting the engineering of life.

Mary Shelley's classic novel, Frankenstein; or The Modern Prometheus, is a story about a young scientist Victor Frankenstein and his grotesque sapient creation through unorthodox science. Odin's Library Classics is dedicated to bringing the world the best of humankind's literature from throughout the ages. Carefully selected, each work is unabridged from classic works of fiction, nonfiction, poetry, or drama.

Dr. Victor Frankenstein, an ambitious young scientist, is consumed by a fanatic desire to create a living being. He fashions an eight-foot-tall creature and succeeds in animating him, but, horrified by his visage, perceives his creation to be a monster and frightens him away. The monster, wandering in search of human companionship, is spurned and repulsed by all he approaches and learns to hate and to kill. He confronts his maker with a terrible choice: unless Frankenstein creates for him a mate, he will go on a rampage of destruction.Frankenstein, a masterpiece of 19th-century Gothic horror and considered to be the first science-fiction novel, is a subversive tale about the corrupt tendencies in humanity's most "civilized" ambitions.

Such were the professor's words—rather let me say such the words of the fate—enounced to destroy me. As he went on I felt as if my soul were grappling with a palpable enemy; one by one the various keys were touched which formed the mechanism of my being; chord after chord was sounded, and soon my mind was filled with one thought, one conception, one purpose. So much has been done, exclaimed the soul of Frankenstein—more, far more, will I achieve; treading in the steps already marked, I will pioneer a new way, explore unknown powers, and unfold to the world the deepest mysteries of creation. I closed not my eyes that night. My internal being was in a state of insurrection and turmoil; I felt that order would thence arise, but I had no power to produce it. By degrees, after the morning's dawn, sleep came. I awoke, and my yesternight's thoughts were as a dream. There only remained a resolution to return to my ancient studies and to devote myself to a science for which I believed myself to possess a natural talent. On the same day I paid M. Waldman a visit. His manners in private were even more mild and attractive than in public, for there was a certain dignity in his mien during his lecture which in his own house was replaced by the greatest affability and kindness. I gave him pretty nearly the same account of my former pursuits as I had given to his fellow professor. He heard with attention the little narration concerning my studies and smiled at the names of Cornelius Agrippa and Paracelsus, but without the contempt that M. Krempe had exhibited. He said that "These were men to whose indefatigable zeal modern philosophers were indebted for most of the foundations of their knowledge. They had left to us, as an easier task, to give new names and arrange in connected classifications the facts which they in a great degree had been the instruments of bringing to light. The labours of men of genius, however erroneously directed, scarcely ever fail in ultimately turning to the solid advantage of mankind." I listened to his statement, which was delivered without any presumption or affectation, and then added that his lecture had removed my prejudices against modern chemists; I expressed myself in measured terms, with the modesty and deference due from a youth to his instructor, without letting escape (inexperience in life would have made me ashamed) any of the enthusiasm which stimulated my intended labours. I requested his advice concerning the books I ought to procure. "I am happy," said M. Waldman, "to have gained a disciple; and if your application equals your ability, I have no doubt of your success. Chemistry is that branch of natural philosophy in which the greatest improvements have been and may be made; it is on that account that I have made it my peculiar study; but at the same time, I have not neglected the other branches of science. A man would make but a very sorry chemist if he attended to that department of human knowledge alone. If your wish is to become really a man of science and not merely a petty experimentalist, I should advise you to apply to every branch of natural philosophy, including mathematics."

You will rejoice to hear that no disaster has accompanied the commencement of an enterprisewhich you have regarded with such evil forebodings. I arrived here yesterday, and my first taskis to assure my dear sister of my welfare and increasing confidence in the success of myundertaking.I am already far north of London, and as I walk in the streets of Petersburgh, I feel a coldnorthern breeze play upon my cheeks, which braces my nerves and fills me with delight. Do youunderstand this feeling? This breeze, which has travelled from the regions towards which I amadvancing, gives me a foretaste of those icy climes. Inspirited by this wind of promise, mydaydreams become more fervent and vivid. I try in vain to be persuaded that the pole is the seatof frost and desolation; it ever presents itself to my imagination as the region of beauty anddelight. There, Margaret, the sun is for ever visible, its broad disk just skirting the horizon anddiffusing a perpetual splendour. There—for with your leave, my sister, I will put some trust inpreceding navigators—there snow and frost are banished; and, sailing over a calm sea, we maybe wafted to a land surpassing in wonders and in beauty every region hitherto discovered on thehabitable globe. Its productions and features may be without example, as the phenomena of theheavenly bodies undoubtedly are in those undiscovered solitudes. What may not be expected in acountry of eternal light? I may there discover the wondrous power which attracts the needle andmay regulate a thousand celestial observations that require only this voyage to render theirseeming eccentricities consistent for ever. I shall satiate my ardent curiosity with the sight of apart of the world never before visited, and may tread a land never before imprinted by the foot ofman. These are my enticements, and they are sufficient to conquer all fear of danger or death andto induce me to commence this laborious voyage with the joy a child feels when he embarks in alittle boat, with his holiday mates, on an expedition of discovery up his native river. Butsupposing all these conjectures to be false, you cannot contest the inestimable benefit which Ishall confer on all mankind, to the last generation, by discovering a passage near the pole tothose countries, to reach which at present so many months are requisite; or by ascertaining thesecret of the magnet, which, if at all possible, can only be effected by an undertaking such asmine.

In the frozen wastes north of Russia, a lone seaward vessel seeks the elusive Northwest Passage. Suddenly they sight a dog sled with a gargantuan figure in the shape of a man, driving the dogs northward to sure oblivion. The following day, they find another sled. This sled is filled with a European near death, and when asked what he is chasing, he simply replies, "to seek one who fled from me."

Mary Shelley's classic gothic horror novel. The scientific young genius, Frankenstein, discovers a method for creating life in inanimate objects and sets about a project to build a human in his laboratory. He is successful in his aim, but in so doing, unleashes on the world a creature whose physical deformities make him repulsive to everyone who sets eyes on him. Starved of human affection, the monster becomes increasingly vindictive and violent, and turns the full force of his superhuman powers to the task of revenging himself on his own creator. At first, Frankenstein is unaware of the fiend pursuing him. But soon the ghastly horror of his situation becomes terrifying clear... and the only solution is to find and destroy the monster, before he wreaks havoc on the entire world.

Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus is a novel written by English author Mary Shelley (1797–1851) that tells the story of Victor Frankenstein, a young scientist who creates a grotesque but sapient creature in an unorthodox scientific experiment. Shelley started writing the story when she was 18, and the first edition of the novel was published anonymously in London on 1 January 1818, when she was 20. Her name first appeared on the second edition, published in France in 1823. Shelley traveled through Europe in 1814, journeying along the river Rhine in Germany with a stop in Gernsheim, which is 17 kilometers (11 mi) away from Frankenstein Castle, where, two centuries before, an alchemist was engaged in experiments. Later, she traveled in the region of Geneva (Switzerland)—where much of the story takes place—and the topic of galvanism and other similar occult ideas were themes of conversation among her companions, particularly her lover and future husband, Percy Shelley. Mary, Percy and Lord Byron decided to have a competition to see who could write the best horror story. After thinking for days, Shelley dreamt about a scientist who created life and was horrified by what he had made; her dream later evolved into the novel's story. Frankenstein is infused with elements of the Gothic novel and the Romantic movement. At the same time, it is an early example of science fiction. Brian Aldiss has argued that it should be considered the first true science fiction story because, in contrast to previous stories with fantastical elements resembling those of later science fiction, the central character "makes a deliberate decision" and "turns to modern experiments in the laboratory" to achieve fantastic results. It has had a considerable influence in literature and popular culture and spawned a complete genre of horror stories, films, and plays.

"Frankenstein or The Modern Prometheus" is a novel written by English author Mary Shelley (1797-1851) that tells the story of Victor Frankenstein, a young scientist who creates a grotesque but sapient creature in an unorthodox scientific experiment. Shelley started writing the story when she was 18, and the first edition of the novel was published anonymously in London on January 1st, 1818, when she was 20. Her name first appeared on the second edition, published in France in 1823.