Last night I finished reading Frankenstein, by Mary Shelley. I don't know why, but I expected this book to be more like the movie. I should have known it wouldn't be, from what I remember of the movie, I see that the film strayed, a lot. I don't mind that. I like both versions. The movie turned me on to the book, the book turned me on to the real character of "the wretch." But I must admit, I found the movie more on the exciting side and not the book. It was interesting, in that "what happens next?" kind of way. But it did not make my heart beat quicker in the paths that the words took in each chapter. That is not to imply that I didn't enjoy it, because I surely did, but it just wasn't as thrilling as I hoped it would be. Still very worth the read though.