The premise of The Last Man is amazing—an apocalyptic novel set in the 2090's and beyond—but the majority of this book felt pointless. I hate to say it because I love Frankenstein so much and was looking forward to reading more of Shelley's work, but this book pales in comparison to the brilliance of Shelley's first novel. There is some great writing and incredible sentiment buried in these pages, but Shelley's genius is too often overshadowed by the droll story.

I still love Shelley, though. Will have to re-read Frankenstein now to remind myself of how good she can be.