Frankenstein The Memorable Monster Essays - Fiction, Literature

Frankenstein: The Memorable Monster Mary Shelley: Frankenstein March 7, 2000 The Memorable Monster In 1818, The British Critic, a British literary magazine, assessed Mary Shelley's new novel, Frankenstein, The Modern Prometheus. The reviewer wrote: We need scarcely say, that these volumes have neither principle, object, nor moral; the horror which abounds in them is too grotesque and bizarre ever to approach near the sublime, and when we did not hurry over the pages in disgust, we sometimes paused to laugh outright; and yet we suspect, that the diseased and wandering imagination, which has stepped out of all legitimate bounds, to frame these disjointed combinations and unnatural adventures, might be disciplined into something better. We heartily wish it were so, for there are occasional symptoms of no common powers of mind, struggling through a mass of absurdity, which well nigh overwhelms them; but it is a sort of absurdity that approaches so often the confines of what is wicked and immoral, that we dare hardly trust ourselves to bestow even this qualified praise. The writer of it is, we understand, a female; this is an aggravation of that which is the prevailing fault of the novel; but if our authoress can forget the gentlene ss of her sex, it is no reason why we should; and we shall therefore dismiss the novel without further comment. Dismiss the novel? How silly this person would feel now. Today, with our hindsight, it is easy to see why this assessment is so ridiculous. Indeed, the image of the lonely wretch and the misdirected Victor Frankenstein are two of literature's most lasting images. But, upon reading this commentary and realizing how wrong it was, I asked myself one question, why? Why is it that the wretch and its creator have remained so indelibly imprinted on our imaginations? We need scarcely say, that these volumes have neither principle, object, nor moral... Frankenstein was nothing if it wasn't moral. The novel poses numerous philosophical questions. Should man have the power to create? Do we have the right to destroy that which we create? How is evil created? Do we create our own evils? Is society's blind pursuit of science a strength or a weakness? Does this pursuit bring us closer to our virtues and ideals or drag us away from them? These are the questions at the core of Frankenstein. And, in fact, these are questions which have become very important in the last two centuries. With the rise of industry and technology, we no longer look to God for answers to questions which seem unanswerable, we look to our own science. But can this science be trusted in the way we trust our God? If our own science can answer these questions, how does God play a role? Are we our own God? Victor Frankenstein may have thought so for an instant. He is a character who embodies many of the struggles which characterized a new age-- an age where questions we previously thought would always remain a mystery were suddenly very much within our understanding, where powers we never thought we could possess are now very much under our control. when we did not hurry over the pages in disgust, we sometimes paused to laugh outright Perhaps the most important part of the monster is the how absolutely human it really is. It is at first hopeful, curious, and sympathetic, gradually mistreated, jaded, and disgusted, and finally angry, vengeful, and lonely. The wretch is not a monster which insights fear in us at all times. We are scared of its implications, but not necessarily itself. In fact, we often feel sorry for the wretch. The wretch is not intended to be gore for the sake of gore. It is violent at times, but the fact that we can sympathize, and even find humor in the description of the wretch is what makes it all the more lasting. The over-dramatic description may be very much a product of Shelley's time, but the ridiculous detail gives us loads of material to compare to ourselves, making it timeless. The idea of funny and evil at the same time is appealing and human. The writer of it is, we understand, a female; this is an aggravation of that which is the prevailing