Mary Wollstonecraft ShelleyMary Shelley was born on 30 August 1797 and died on 1 February 1851. Her nationality was British. By the age of nineteen, Mary had written one of the most famous novels ever published, Frankenstein; which was published in 1818. He also wrote six other novels, a novella, mythological dramas, short stories and articles, various travel books and biographical studies. By 1851, the year of her death, she had established herself as a prominent author independently of her famous husband, Percy Bysshe Shelley. Eleven days after his birth, his mother Mary Wollstonecraft died of puerperal fever, leaving his father William Godwin to care for him. cares for her and her half-sister Fanny. The day after her funeral, Godwin began examining Mary Wollstonecraft's papers and by September had begun work on her life story. Mary became his favorite daughter. He called her “beautiful little Mary.” Mary's attachment to her father would become intense and long-lasting. Three years after Mary Wollstonecraft's death, William met and married Mary Jane Clairmont. Mary Shelley's relationship with her stepmother was strained. Mary Jane resented Mary's affection for her father and became very jealous of her. Not only did he begin to ask Mary to do household chores, but he also invaded Mary's privacy and opened her letters. Nor did he encourage his love of reading and writing. Mary never received any formal education. Fortunately, he had access to his father's excellent library. Her favorite pastime as a child was “writing stories”. As Mary became a young woman, the tension between her and Mary Jane intensified. In the summer of 1812 Godwin sent his precious only daughter to visit William Baxter, an acquaintance who l... middle of paper... his 1783 researches into the animation of frogs' legs by electricity were specifically mentioned by her as part of the reading list that summer in Switzerland. One night, perhaps attributable to Galvani's story, Maria had a daydream; he recounted the episode in this way: “My imagination, spontaneously, possessed me and guided me, giving to the successive images that presented themselves in my mind with a vividness far beyond the usual limits of reverie... I saw the pale scholar of arts impious kneeling beside the thing he had put together: I saw the horrible ghost of a man lying down and then, when a powerful engine was working, showing signs of life and stirring with a restless, half-vital movement... What terrified me will terrify others; and it is enough for me to describe the specter that had haunted my midnight pillow. This nightmare served as the basis for the novel he titled Frankenstein.