
It's interesting how the Frankenstein monster (not "Frankenstein," contrary to popular belief) was devoid of description. He is larger than the average man and indeed a composite of varying human parts, but no stitches across the forehead, no bolts in the neck, no flat head, no none of that. It's sort of just left up to the imagination. Also interesting is that the monster isn't a bumbling beast, but rather quite sentient, rivaling the good doctor (hardly, haha) in philosophical matters. From a piece of philosophy and conjecture, it becomes a piece about revenge and significance, and from there it resumes philosophy with a macabre and dread that can only be represented in horror works. However. This piece doesn't really otherwise read as a horror. It's a piece that really makes the reader think. It's not something filled with dread, gore, and the like (... for the most part!), but rather, focuses on the story itself. It's more of a piece of art than it is the stupidity of what I know as horror (I flat-out refuse to watch the new Piranha 3D movie) or the silliness I've known as Frankenstein (Mel Brooks only, of course). All-in-all, an interesting foray into the world of what is to come.