Adroitly exploring the classic elements of popular Gothic horror, Shelley created a dramatic tale of romance and revenge. This short and intensely emotional novel - first published when Shelley was only eighteen - combines adolescent vigour and literary panache with occasional sparks of true poetic genius.

Not really my thing I'm afraid. VERY Gothic, as in, lots of wild weather, sublime landscapes, and tempestuous feelings - which generally lead to fainting or at least throwing yourself at someone's feet. This is fine and enjoyable in small doses, but when there's page after page of nothing else, and what plot there is crawls at a snail's pace, is illogical in places, and, when it happens, is compressed into one or two lines between more and yet more sighing/flashing orbs/passionate feelings/fleeing spirits/thunderstorms, it's a little too much for this reader here.
I know Shelley was 18 when he wrote this, and my hat off to him both for the attempt, and for getting it published. It just wasn't very fun to read. Maybe in a different mood I might have enjoyed it more.
The only enjoyable character (and his appearances are rare enough) to me is the eponymous anti-hero , Zastrozzi. While all Matilda and Verezzi seemed to do was sigh and whine and be torn up by FEELINGS, he at least had some understandable motivation, plus some grasp on reality. If someone were to write a novel with *him* at the centre, I would love to read it.

This book, however, is a beautiful study in the language of Gothic romance...yet nothing more. IF you read it, read not for plot...read as a collection of Gothic phrases and stereotypes.