This morning on the radio they were talking about the SNL spoof of that new vampire-pretty-boy movie in which all the 'pretty-boys' are Frankensteins instead of vampires.
Then the talk show hosts started talking about the background of Frankenstein. In the spoof, the kids went around accidentally choking other people, so they talked about how Frankenstein was created by putting a brain in the body of a big dead guy, sewing the head shut, and he kept crushing beautiful things because he was trying to 'capture' beauty.
My brains initial response was . . . . . .WHAT???
That's not even close to true! Obviously they've never read the book because in the book he . . .
he . . .
Oh crud.
I can't remember Frankenstein!
I read it 7 years ago for a college class and was pissed because the teacher was talking about the homosexual relationship between the monster and Doctor Frankenstein (a load of horse apples) where I wanted to talk about how it could be viewed as a heartbreaking story of a parent figure who has trouble loving their child because they are less than perfect (probably also a load of horse apples.)
So I sat there is my car fuming because these DJs only knew the Hollywood version of Frankenstein and I couldn't remember the literary version. I am soooo disappointed in myself.
At least we can compromise and stick to the Robert DeNiro, Kenneth Branagh, and Helena Bonham Carter movie version which is much closer to the novel than tall, green, and bolty.
All of this has added a new label for me for posts because I reread this and realized how snotty I sound.
