Mary Shelley, Frankenstein (1818)
Frankenstein is one of those stories that everyone knows, even if you haven’t read it. Except once you do read it, you realize that the version in the popular imagination has little to do with Mary Shelley’s actual creation. There, you will find no mad scientists robbing graves for body parts; no lightning striking a ruined castle to the sound of cackling laughter; no grinning henchmen or spark-emitting machines. Shelley’s vision is much subtler and more psychologically astute than that. Though there are dramatic external events, of course, what’s really interesting is what is going on inside Frankenstein and his monstrous “child,” the ways in which they mirror one another, and their tragic inability to connect.
To get into this story that everybody knows (but doesn’t), you have to first wade through all the narrative layers in which Shelley has wrapped it. An explorer trying to reach the North Pole — which at the time was thought to be a sort of Earthly Paradise, warm and fertile if one could just get through the ice — writes letters to his sister, in which he describes how he has picked up a dying man, found in pursuit of a strange figure who eludes him and races off across the ice. This is Victor Frankenstein, who proceeds to explain how he created and then resolved to destroy this being (who, in another layer, also gets to tell some of his own story).
It’s a cumbersome and roundabout way of getting at a tale that could seemingly be told in a more straightforward way, but it also reflects one of the main themes: the loneliness and isolation that keep us from one another, the way we are “wrapped up” in our own ideas and ambitions. To break through this icy covering would require a leap of imagination and empathy that Frankenstein, groundbreaking scientist though he is, is tragically never able to make.
Once he has brought his creature to life (in a way that, in contrast to the dramatized versions, is left vague and unexplained), he takes one look at it and is unutterably repelled. He simply wants to ignore it, to pretend it doesn’t exist. Until he nears the end of his journey, he doesn’t speak about it, doesn’t even want to think about it. Out of sight, out of mind, he thinks — a very human, yet very ineffective response to an overwhelming situation.
He does not tell anyone what he has done, even once he becomes convinced that the creature has begun to murder his friends and relations. Isn’t this because, frozen by his own egotism, he is unable to take responsibility and own what he has done, what he is? He says he fears that people will think him mad, but he is worse than that. When the “monster” kills and destroys, he is only doing outwardly what his creator is doing inwardly. This brilliant thinker with stunted emotions is unable to live up morally to what he has achieved intellectually.
His nameless creation, meanwhile, states that he simply wants to be loved, to find connection in a world that repels him at every turn. His rage and vengefulness is a reflection of how he has been treated, an externalized representation of Frankenstein’s own inability to love and to create true, living connections. Even when Frankenstein decides to marry, it’s to an adopted sister whom he has known from childhood, who does not threaten him with unfamiliar ideas or perceptions. He speaks of her in terms of ownership, as one who belongs to him by right. To him, she is a thing, not a person, just like the being he has created and then run away from in terror.
And so, it’s inevitable that the Frankenstein-monster should destroy this marriage. No human being who has never confronted the demons within himself, who has never humbly confessed his weaknesses and woken to the independent reality of the other person, can enter into the true marriage of opposites.
In Shelley’s novel, Frankenstein dies without ever coming to this recognition, but the explorer who has embraced him as a friend — and his surrogate, the reader — may have a chance to go further. As he turns his ship back from the ice to save his crew, there is a hope that he (and we) might have learned something about relationships, about love, about realms that purely cold, heartless research will never attain — but which we must pursue in the service of a truly human future.
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The Emerald City Book Review Archive 
This is such an insightful review, Lory, that I want to reread the novel now instead of waiting for the 200th anniversary of its publication! (Especially as I missed the bicentenary of its genesis in 2016.) I also want to now reread Brian Aldiss’s 1973 sequel Frankenstein Unbound which made an impression on me at the time but about which I remember virtually nothing now.
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Reading them both in tandem seems like a good idea!
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Terrific commentary Lory.
I reread this a few years ago.
I was so impressed how Shelley managed to tell what is really a brutal story, Frankenstein’s creation truly commits nightmarish acts, with all the themes that you mention. This is truly a horror story that illustrates both internal and external horrors.
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What an astute and beautiful commentary. I have not read this, yet, and am only familiar with the films and popular modern depictions of the story. Looks like I will be very surprised by the book!
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It’s so much more than a monster on a killing spree. The incredible loneliness of both Frankenstein and his creation was what struck me.
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I love this book and how its challenges us on who is the real monster: the creature or Frankenstein himself?! I totally agree this is a much more subtle and psychologically astute then the more obvious ‘horror’ adaptations that have been made. Its also really annoying how people call the creature Frankenstein!
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I could really only feel sorry for the monster. How different it would have been for him if Frankenstein had taken responsibility for what he had done, and tried to give him the love he craved.
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That’s a brilliant review, Lori: perceptive, thoughtful, and thought-provoking. I’m embarrassed to admit that I haven’t read Frankenstein, though I’ve thought about doing so a number of times. I really should; it’s arguably the first science fiction novel as well as a great classic in its own right. I would add it to my massively long TBR list, but it’s already there…
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You should read it! There are some clunky narrative devices to wade through, but it’s definitely worth it.
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Excellent analysis of this ground-breaking story. I agree that the story is much more convoluted than I liked, but you managed to tie the story within a story together in an interesting way. I ended up disappointed by the novel, probably because I like Mary Shelley and had been looking forward to finally reading it, and then discovering that it was so dense.
>As he turns his ship back from the ice to save his crew, there is a hope that he (and we) might have learned something about relationships, about love, about realms that purely cold, heartless research will never attain — but which we must pursue in the service of a truly human future.
Loved the way you got meaning out of this ending.
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It was a very weird construction with odd digressions that could have been tightened up. I also read a criticism elsewhere that Shelley creates three narrators who all basically talk and write in the same way, and that is a weakness too. But the conception of the story and the images she created could be quite stunning. A strange, yet fascinating novel.
What else have you read by Mary Shelley that you liked? I haven’t read anything else so far.
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What a great review! I typically review classics in the same way I review most books, simply sharing my subjective feelings about the book along with perhaps a little analysis. I never feel like I could add much to previous reviews of the classics. However, I feel like I got a lot out of reading your thoughtful analysis. Thanks for sharing!
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Sometimes I have that “What on earth more can I say about this famous book?” feeling. But I think the books that really deserve to be called classics elicit personal responses that also touch on universal chords, and that their rich layers of meaning can never be exhausted.
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I was definitely surprised when I read Frankenstein too, as it is so much more subtle than you expect it’s going to be. Great review! 🙂
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It’s good that people still go back to the original and don’t just stick with the popularized versions.
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Oh my gosh, I need to get around to rereading this one soon!
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It’s a SF and horror classic, so you really should! Just try to bear with the weird structure and some antiquated language (though mostly I found it quite readable).
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Despite knowing the story, I haven’t read the book yet, but I purchased a physical copy just last week as I want to give it a read and see how I feel about the story. Thanks for your insightful review.
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Great, I hope you find it as interesting as I did.
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Great review! I read this years ago and thought it was a powerful story. Found this review through the Back to the Classics challenge. (I still have to read 5 books to finish all the categories.)
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Thanks for visiting, enjoy the challenge!
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