I haven't read this since high school and so I am again faced with the full brunt of melancholy and rage I feel afterward. Call me transgander but your creator making you in an image of his whims with no regard for how it may harm you and then abandoning you in disgust is uh....a lot. 

I actually forgot how little time is spent on the creation of the creature in general. I expected at least a more bombastic coming to life scene but I suppose that's what a million adaptations does to your brain. Mary Shelley knew how to reserve herself and when to go sicko mode!

There are a thousand ways to interpret this story and I love my media like that but not one of mine will ever have a shred of sympathy for Victor Frankenstein! You rat bitch!