Review
Frankenstein, or The Modern Promotheus as author Mary
Shelley so aptly subtitled it, is considered in the genre of horror to be one
of the first of its kind and because of this reasoning, it unsettled the
literary world in 1818. Contemporary reviews such as the British review
magazine The Belle Assemblée
stated, “This is a very ‘bold’
fiction; and, did not the author, in a short Preface, make a kind of apology ,
we should almost pronounce it to be ‘impious’.
We hope, however, the writer had the moral in view which we are desirous of
drawing from it…” Also
in the same year, Walter Scott, literary reviewer of Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, in a troubled attempt to categorize the
novel, classified it as a “romantic
fiction” stating, “This is a novel, or more properly a romantic
fiction, of a nature so peculiar, that we ought to describe the species before
attempting any account of the individual production.” And, “The
class of marvellous romances admits of several subdivisions. In the earlier
productions of imagination, the poet, or tale-teller does not, in his own
opinion, transgress the laws of credibility, when he introduces into his
narration the witches, goblins, and magicians, in the existence of which he
himself, as well as his hearers, is a firm believer. This good faith, however,
passes away, and works turning upon the marvellous are written and read merely
on account of the exercise which they afford to the imagination… In this
species of composition, the marvellous is itself the principal and most
important object both to the author and reader.” Likewise, the British
Critic, though refreshed and intrigued by its narrative form, but nerveless
cynical comparing the storyline to overdosing on medication, “We are in doubt to what class we shall refer writings of
this extravagant character; that they bear marks of considerable power, it is
impossible to deny; but this power is so abused and perverted, that we should
almost prefer imbecility; however much, of late years, we have been wearied and
ennuied by the languid whispers of gentle sentimentality, they at least had the
comfortable property of provoking no uneasy slumber; but we must protest
against the waking dreams of horror excited by the unnatural stimulants of this
later school; and we feel ourselves as much harassed, after rising from the
perusal of these three spirit-wearing volumes, as if we had been over-dosed
with laudanum, or hag-ridden by the night-mare.”
Twentieth and
twenty-first century day literary critics disagree with their predecessors, but
even though there is presently much praise for the work, pop-culture has
distorted the sketch of the main characters. The common thought among the
populous, and humbly myself before indulging in this classic, is simply that
Frankenstein is the monster (who looks like Boris Karloff) created by some
short, white-haired mad scientist who deviously laughs after every illogical
statement he declares to himself, but this is far from the original portrayal
of the author. In contrast, Shelley through her writing depicts Frankenstein,
or better Victor Frankenstein, as a scientist pushing the boundaries of
science, and in painstakingly and furious hopes of being a creator, he creates a
humanoid being. His creation, the monster, never was bestowed a formal name, but
throughout the novel is grotesquely labeled (e.g. demon, wretch, vile insect,
fiend) by Frankenstein as he retells the tragedy of his life. The subtitle of
the book, The Modern Promotheus,
delineates Frankenstein’s attempt; Shelley alludes to the Greek mythological
poem Theogeny written by Ancient Greek poet Hesiod. In Theogeny, it is Promotheus who is
credited with the creation of man by forming him from clay. Thus, even the
subtitle clarifies the scientist’s role in the narrative.
Synopsis
The story begins with the hero Victor
Frankenstein’s background: where he lived, how his parents came to know each
other, and information about his other siblings, including one Elizabeth, who
was adopted into the family and who Frankenstein adored, affectionately calling
her his cousin. As he grows, he has a keen desire for the supernatural
(e.g.alchemy) and goes off to the University of Ingolstadt to study. He is
persuaded by his professors to eschew his unproven studies of the supernatural and instead focuses on the
natural sciences. In doing so, he works tediously and arduously
until he has mastered the present knowledge of his field, but still his
former interests haunt him and in eventually giving in to his desires, he initiates fusing the two.
He is encouraged by some success and secretly
states working on his life’s ambition, turning an inanimate object into life.
Taking corporeal elements from dissecting tables and slaughter houses he
comprises a living being that he sparks to life with electricity. However, on
the accomplishment of his work, horror overcomes him and he runs and hides from
the creature he just created.
Some
time later Frankenstein discovers that his little brother has been murdered and
when he sorrowfully goes to the place of his misfortune, he sees the creature
lurking in the shadows and concludes that his brother has been murdered by the
monster. Justine a family friend is accused of the murder because a picture of
William’s mother that he had was found in her pocket by a servant. Frankenstein
knows the truth and pleads for Justine’s innocence all the while fearful that
if he reveals what he knows, he will be labeled mad, but her innocence is not proven resulting in her unwarranted death, driving Victor to more fury and insanity.
It is later found out through Frankenstein's intercourse with the monster that the monster just wanted to understand
life, and to feel love, and how to speak all which he believed was owed to him and which
Frankenstein never offered. Therefore, the monster sought to destroy those who
Frankenstein held dear unless he would create him a wife in the same fashion as he, which the scientist
willingly does so for relief of the monster's oppression. However, in the process he can’t put himself to finishing the work and destroys the
unfinished creation much to the monster’s dismay. And so William was just the
beginning of Frankenstein’s sorrows as one by one his loved ones are murdered, even his precious Elizabeth, whom he vowed to marry, was murdered on their
wedding day. From there, the tragedy concludes with Frankenstein vowing to
search for the monster and kill him but instead he dies on a boat in sorrow
never accomplishing revenge.
In Relation to Scripture
I believe the greatest concept promoted by
Shelley in her novel is the trouble of a limited creator. In the story, Frankenstein
falls in love with his work in natural science and begins through his excitement
to accomplish the extoadinary, partly in effort to aid humanity. He says, “No one can conceive the variety of feelings
which bore me onwards, like a hurricane, in the first enthusiasm of success.
Life and death appeared to me ideal bounds, which I should first break through,
and pour a torrent of light into our dark world. A new species would bless me
as its creator and source; many happy and excellent natures would owe their
being to me. No father could claim the gratitude of his child so completely as
I should deserve theirs. Pursuing these reflections, I thought that if I could
bestow animation upon lifeless matter, I might in process of time (although I
now found it impossible) renew life where death had apparently devoted the body
to corruption.” Yet, when his creation was finally finished and endued with
life, he was horrified at the works of his hands: It
was on a dreary night of November that I beheld the accomplishment of my toils.
With an anxiety that almost amounted to agony, I collected the instruments of
life around me, that I might infuse a spark of being into the lifeless thing
that lay at my feet. It was already one in the morning; the rain pattered
dismally against the panes, and my candle was nearly burnt out, when, by the
glimmer of the half-extinguished light, I saw the dull yellow eye of the
creature open; it breathed hard, and a convulsive motion agitated its limbs.
How can I describe
my emotions at this catastrophe, or how delineate the wretch whom with such
infinite pains and care I had endeavoured to form? His limbs were in
proportion, and I had selected his features as beautiful. Beautiful! Great God!
His yellow skin scarcely covered the work of muscles and arteries beneath; his
hair was of a lustrous black, and flowing; his teeth of a pearly whiteness; but
these luxuriances only formed a more horrid contrast with his watery eyes, that
seemed almost of the same colour as the dun-white sockets in which they were
set, his shrivelled complexion and straight black lips. The different accidents
of life are not so changeable as the feelings of human nature. I had worked
hard for nearly two years, for the sole purpose of infusing life into an
inanimate body. For this I had deprived myself of rest and health. I had
desired it with an ardour that far exceeded moderation; but now that I had
finished, the beauty of the dream vanished, and breathless horror and disgust
filled my heart. Unable to endure the aspect of the being I had created, I
rushed out of the room and continued a long time traversing my bed-chamber,
unable to compose my mind to sleep. At length lassitude succeeded to the tumult
I had before endured, and I threw myself on the bed in my clothes, endeavouring
to seek a few moments of forgetfulness. But it was in vain; I slept, indeed,
but I was disturbed by the wildest dreams…I started from my sleep with horror;
a cold dew covered my forehead, my teeth chattered, and every limb became
convulsed; when, by the dim and yellow light of the moon, as it forced its way
through the window shutters, I beheld the wretch-- the miserable monster whom I
had created. He held up the curtain of the bed; and his eyes, if eyes they may
be called, were fixed on me. His jaws opened, and he muttered some inarticulate
sounds, while a grin wrinkled his cheeks. He might have spoken, but I did not
hear; one hand was stretched out, seemingly to detain me, but I escaped and
rushed downstairs. I took refuge in the courtyard belonging to the house which
I inhabited, where I remained during the rest of the night, walking up and down
in the greatest agitation, listening attentively, catching and fearing each
sound as if it were to announce the approach of the demoniacal corpse to which
I had so miserably given life. Oh! No mortal could support the horror of that
countenance. A mummy again endued with animation could not be so hideous as
that wretch. I had gazed on him while unfinished; he was ugly then, but when
those muscles and joints were rendered capable of motion, it became a thing
such as even Dante could not have conceived.
The creator had spurned his creation, that what he so arduously poured
over for two years, loathed him; but God is not this way. After God created man,
he said that it was not only good, but very
good (Gen. 1:31). Sometimes like the Psalmist David we are intrigued why an
infinite Creator would ever be mindful of us, but he does. David writes,“What is
man, that thou art
mindful of him? and the son of man,
that thou visitest him?
(Ps.8:4). Job also pondered this question, he states, “What is
man, that thou shouldest
magnify him? and that thou shouldest set thine heart upon
him?(Job 7:17). . Undoubtedly,
God could have forsaken man, like Frankenstein, after the Fall in the Garden of Eden, and
yet he displayed more love in sending His Son, Jesus Christ to be our
substitute, our sacrifice. Paul writes, I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet
not I, but Christ liveth in me: and the life which I now live in the flesh I
live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me (Gal. 2:20).
God is not a God who
creates and then hides from his creation as Frankenstein did. In my opinion,
the greatest section of the narrative is when the monster purposely confronts
the scientist with his hatred towards him. The monster says, “Be calm! I
entreat you to hear me before you give vent to your hatred on my devoted head.
Have I not suffered enough, that you seek to increase my misery? Life, although
it may only be an accumulation of anguish, is dear to me, and I will defend it.
Remember, thou hast made me more powerful than thyself; my height is superior
to thine, my joints more supple. But I will not be tempted to set myself in
opposition to thee. I am thy creature, and I will be even mild and docile to my
natural lord and king if thou wilt also perform thy part, the which thou owest
me. Oh, Frankenstein, be not equitable to every other and trample upon me
alone, to whom thy justice, and even thy clemency and affection, is most due.
Remember that I am thy creature; I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the
fallen angel, whom thou drivest from joy for no misdeed. Everywhere I see
bliss, from which I alone am irrevocably excluded.
It truly is uncanny how Shelley was able to unravel the issues
concerning Modern Day Science. It is almost as if she was able to perceive the
future 200 years earlier. Frankenstein used electricity to bring life to the
monster and yet today scientists use electricity to fuse the cells together in
cloning. Frankenstein started out his work in hopes of bettering society and
today, those in biocentrics hope to reverse the extinction of animals, solve
the world’s hunger problems, and even cure diseases, but at what cost? I’m
afraid that many will be more in love with the ingeniousness of the accomplishment
and not the creation. This, as the book Frankenstein
so distinctively teaches, will be the result of man who is limited in
knowledge, and love, and power and yet still attempts to be a creator. It is
impossible for man to be God. This is the trouble with creators who are finite, they become the monster.
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