But, Paradise Lost excited different and far deeper emotions. I read it, as I had read the other volumes which had fallen into my hands, as a true history. It moved every feeling of wonder and awe that the picture of an omnipotent God warring with His creatures was capable of exciting. I often referred the several situations, as their similarity struck me, to my own. Like Adam, I was apparently united by no link to any other being in existence; but his state was far different from mine in every other respect. He had come forth from the hands of God a perfect creation, happy and prosperous, guarded by the especial care of his Creator; he was allowed to converse with, and acquire knowledge from, beings of a superior nature: but I was wretched, helpless, and alone. Many times I considered Satan as a fitter emblem of my condition; for often, like him, when I viewed the bliss of my protectors, the bitter gall of envy rose within me.
From: Frankenstein, or, The Modern Prometheus by Mary Shelley; reprint; Everyman’s Library (New York: Dutton, 1912), pp. 135-136. Originally published in 1818.
Mary Shelley (1797-1851) , although she wrote other things, will always be remembered primarily for this famous novel – which is absolutely nothing like the various films that have been made of it.
