Uh...lets stick with the first metaphor.
Frankenstein is a creation made up of a variety of parts (excuse the pun). It's very literally a patchwork of different authors and influences. Although absolutely born of the ability of Mary Shelley, there are many ideas and phrases that she chooses to simply borrow from other books, Paradise Lost by John Milton being the most common benefactor. When you pair this with Percy Shelley's (debated or otherwise) role in editing the novel, the piece begins to take on the look of the titular character's nemesis, the monster.
"Just imagine this, but like, it's a novel, bro."
Some would say that Mary's work was diluted by its patchwork of influence, and I would agree to some extent; but not to the degree where the novel would be somehow marginalized. In fact, it adds more layers to discover. And to think that somehow Percy's divine hand reached down and raised this novel up from the grave of Mary's pen, although ironic when set against the story, is simply naive. In his attempts to adjust the terminology, etc. in the book, he simply serves to disrupt its flow. As said in a critical essay, "And the scandal of Mary Shelley's fractured text may discredit the female author less than it does her masculine authorities[...]Shelley's unorthodox citational strategies[...]may expose not so much her lack of originality as the material conditions that constitute textuality as a form of grafting" (London 397). Often times there will be bits of prose done by Percy that I see as arbitrarily inserted into the text. For example, Frankenstein is climbing the mountain Montanvert, the scene is set very Romantically in the sense that the environment (read:nature) is the focus on trip to the summit, "The pines are not tall or luxuriant, but they are sombre, and add an air of severity to the scene[...]vast mists were rising from the rivers which ran through it, and curling in thick wreaths around the opposite mountains, whose summits were hid in the uniform clouds," then Percy pops in for a comment on the sensibilities of man: "Alas! why does man boast of sensibilities superior to those apparent in the brute; it only renders them more necessary beings" (Shelley 64). He then proceeds to drop an 8 line piece of poetry to support his intrusion. As the reader I just think, 'Uhhh, ok dude thanks for the tip, now I'd like to get back to the scenery." Amazingly, after the ego of Mr. Shelley is sated, the novel immediately goes back to describing the scene. Seen in practice, this "grafting" of ideas into place forms the novel as a whole, creates life out of discarded parts; and so the parallels between the book and the monster itself become even closer.
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