Frankenstein is a very good book and I am truely amazed by the talent of Mary Shelley (her writing style is so much better than that of her husband).
The beginning was a bit tedious in my opinion (and parts of the final chapter as well), maybe due to the fact that I haven't read much 19th century fiction for quite some time and I am therefore not used to those excessive descriptions of family history, landscapes and emotions any more. But nevertheless, after a few chapters the story really drew me in.
The weird thing for me is, that in contrast to all those movies or adaptations of Frankenstein, in which I always sympathised with the monster, while reading the book, I hardly felt any compassion towards him and actually joined team Frankenstein (can anyone relate?).
I was quite surprised to find out that Frankenstein and his monster actually communicated with each other in French, but I am really glad that I finally pulled Frankenstein out of my to-read-pile!