Frankenstein
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The Meaning of Frankenstein
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I resent the insinuations!Its fun to try and guess this or that influences of this or that author, but they are always hopelessly involute, and they make matters worse, and they are learned prejudices, and they are all a bunch of darn lies. Without knowing the author, you cannot say for sure why he/she writes the things he/she writes. By "knowing the author", of course, I mean, knowing the time of his conception, ALL the miscellanies of his childhood, youth, adulthood and death, knowing without a shadow of doubt, ALL his dreams and ALL his thoughts, ALL the vagaries of his illusions, ALL he knew and ALL he didnt know. Are we sure that we "know" Mary Shelley? If not, we should keep our distance from her, and stick to guessing the influences. Whatever profit that might lead.
How do we know PB was "less" than Mary hoped for? Are we agreed, without the shadow of doubt of debacle, whether PB was "weak" or "strong"? Just because Mr. Joe Smith and his wife, Jill Smith never, never goes boating in thunderstorms (no, they'd much rather get cosy in a cinema that plays Twilight), are we sure that Mr. P.B would not do such a thing? Are we certain that Mary had a "questionable" relationship with Byron? Where are the DNA samples? Is there really "something to be said there"?
What "relevance" does Hamlet have for our "contemporary times"? Or Don Quixote? Or Edda? Or, come to thnk of it, the Bible or the Origin of Species? What oh what qualifies a book for the chuckling condescension of contemporaneity?
Should we, on approaching a novel, search its behind, always, for its wagging "cautionary tale?" Where is the cautionary tale in Moby Dick? "Thou shalt not obsess over sperm whales if thou art single-legged?"
No cautionary tales, completely irrelevant, subversive, distant and ambiguous--that, I think, is a part of what art is.
Annemarie, maybe you should stop re-reading it?
What is Frankenstein about?Taking responsibility for our actions, that's what most of it. Neither Frankenstein, nor his creation, nor his actions are inherently evil. It's only when Victor abandons the creature he created, and it learns from the prejudice that society encounters it with that it turns to blind revenge.
In that it contains a truly timeless message about human nature.
Jay wrote: "Its fun to try and guess this or that influences of this or that author, but they are always hopelessly involute, and they make matters worse, and they are learned prejudices, and they are all a bunch of darn lies..."Agreed, it's futile to try and second guess what might have went through an author's mind when he put down his work, I doubt that the creator himself could always tell you the whys and wherefores.
But that makes speculating all the more fun, doesn't it.
Though, I agree that we shouldn't fall for putting down wild speculations about Mary Shelley or the men in her life based on what we feel a singular work of fiction could possibly mean.
So here's my question then. Do we just read a book and walk away from it? No questions about the author or the society from which they came? No questions about what they were trying to say or comment on? We just read and then leave? Why read the book at all then? If there's nothing to learn from the book then put it down and go watch TV. Half the work of reading should be thinking not just sitting back.Good literature should make us read and question and research. I'm sorry if that's not something you want to do but don't knock those of us willing to put in the extra effort.
I'm sorry if I appeared rude, but all I meant was that its unprofitable to analyze an author's motives or a book's purpose. We, the readers, are not privy to either, I feel.As Gerd said, the writers themselves would shrug and walk away, or place a posy on the brow of some cliche, if asked to account for their work.
How easy it would be to ridicule other people and sneer, and remain silent, but I'd like to place my two-cents here (long boring note follows):
No, we do not just read and walk away from a book. But we do not analyze it either. All analyses are bound to be little ego-trips (on the part of the analyzer), and in most cases, they wind up back in the basement of the reader's own subconscious. And there resides the half-formed thoughts, inarticulate vagueness, cliches and doubts.
I believe that the author or HIS society deserves a fleeting glimpse, an acknowledgement, and that's it. We let him be, we let his background be, we let his personal history lie. They should have no relevance in the reading of a novel. If they did, we would have to justify his genius, too, and pretty soon, everything subdues to a flimsy justification of the Times and Career of the Author. Authors are vulgar and boring. The works are, in almost all cases, divinely above them.
What we learn from the book is irrelevant, is it not? I learned that raping little honey-shouldered nine-year old girls (no matter how delectable or demonic they looked) might lead you to cell and hell from Lolita. But I didnt need to read that book to know that. And that lesson wasn't the reason why I read the book a 3 or 4 times. I learned that adultery is a bad idea from Madame Bovary and Anna Karenina, but I dont think that was the kind of learning Tolstoy or Flaubert meant when they wrote the book. I learned that a beetle's life is hard from a certain book by a certain beautifully doomed German writer, but I don't give a spit about beetles, and yet, I find myself returning again and again to Metamorphosis, although I morbidly hate Kafka, and his narrow little psychotic world.
Its always delightful and amusing to hear non-entities gurgle about the Zeitgeist and modern/postmodern/feminist/Freudian/LGBT/Marxian/Martian interpretations of King Lear, but I suggest we laugh away, and keep walking.
There is an n-th dimension to reading, a syncretic synthesis of all existence, a sort of dream-merging, and (and to rewrite a popular cliche) the Reader should be like God in his universe: interested--but distant, suffering--but glad, and above all, he must, in the very act of reading, recreate the book, recreate the milieu, and lo, recreate himself, and achieve the goal of all life: absolute perfection and a reconciliation of everything, even contradictions.
Now, thats a pretty theory, I know, and like all pretty theories, verbose and incoherent. But if you understand dimly what I mean (as I myself understand dimly what I mean), I bet you'll agree with me that reading is a complicated, creative, artistic process, and not mental sleuthing, or gossiping about an author.
But to each his own, my grand-dad always said (before he swallowed a hand-grenade), and I'm sorry if I appeared rude.
Annemarie wrote: "So here's my question then. Do we just read a book and walk away from it? No questions about the author or the society from which they came? No questions about what they were trying to say or comme..."I don't disagree with that, although I don't believe it to be a novels duty to make us do so.
It's entirely possible that Mary had no more immediate intent than that to spin a good yarn.
I remember having a faintly similar discussion over YA lit, I tend not to think that books have to have morals or try to teach us something in any way- but I firmly believe that every story told with sincerity will do so all of its own, teach us something that is.
I do take mild offence with the "questionable relationship" people like to claim has been going on between Mary and Byron. We have no proof conclusive for such a thing far as I know, only Byron's reputation. All we can tell is that they spend time together, so for all we do know they were nothing more heinous than friends.
Now, the problem with evaluating a story, or an event, from hindsight is, if you allow me to freely quote from the words of a Civil War journalist:
"we can cast a much broader view on the occurring events than those directly involved ever had, we can include into our observations facts not known at the time, outcomes unforeseeable at the very moment"
I just posted a topic that was supposed to go here. Can't miss it, titled "fecal lovechild". Not my opinion mind you, was an article about Frankenstein I read for a class. Gonna have to find the title and author and post it. Coz omfg.
Gerd wrote: "Annemarie wrote: "So here's my question then. Do we just read a book and walk away from it? No questions about the author or the society from which they came? No questions about what they were tryi..."Whether it's simply the author's intent to "spin a good yarn" or not, literature is about some level of examination of the world at its core. All literature is, in essence, a commentary on something. It all speaks in some way to a topic, or it wouldn't have been written in the first place. Even The DaVinci Code, as miserably written as it is, comments on some aspect of society (the Church in particular).
Whether or not she intended it to be so, Frankenstein is very obviously informed by Mary's experience growing up with an activist and philosopher for a father who challenged her to push against the boundaries of society. There are obvious undercurrents in the book depicting both the Monster and Frankenstein himself as "the Other," and it would be idiocy to claim that these aspects of the book are non-existent.
As to what she was "intending" to say with her work, I don't presume to know, and no one else should claim to know for certain, either. However, there are obvious representations in the book that were informed by her experience as a woman and as a person of her time, and those can be argued easily with properly cited evidence from the text (or even possibly from her letters or articles and other auxiliary materials). It's tripe to say that we shouldn't be examining the deeper meaning of a novel. That's like saying that Magritte's "Ceci n'est pas une pipe" is just a nice painting of a pipe. All art MEANS something on some level.
As a writer myself, I would be rather irritated if a reader looked at my work and said, "oh, that's a nice story" and didn't take anything else away from it. If I just wanted to write a "nice story," I wouldn't be sweating blood over the manuscript.
I apologize if I am echoing previous posters. My take on the book is as follows. Shelley sought to render a story that teaches. As you'll recall, Victor led a harmonious youth. The narration of his youth is brief but, strong and poignant. Soon he ventures to school where alternative, forbidden books entice his desire for knowledge; which is shadowed by a larger desire of fame and power. The abrupt end of his idyllic youth jarred me as a reader. It is an accurate portrayal of how slippery time can be.After the monster's animation, the vigorous ambition that had attended Victor is slaughtered by regret. This takes Victor by surprise since he had predicted elation, a sense of satisfaction perhaps, at exercising a feat of science. However Victor had not the clairvoyance to predict the results. Similar to how Einstein felt about his role in the atom bomb's creation.
I found the parallels that can be drawn between monster and creator rather interesting. Both were desolate and lonely people. They were inextricably bonded together by an event they both detested. Both were plagued by longing. Both alternated cat and mouse roles. So you see Shelley may be intimating a non-dual existence. Perhaps not. I know she had ambitions of her own to discover laws of nature and better understand the human condition.
My favorite part of the book is when the Monster helps the family at the small house. Until, despite the Monster's noble intentions, friendly nature, and compassionate actions, he is shunned because of his grotesque appearance. It spoke to me of the difficulty one has in disregarding physicality. Sad but true. I believe that's all the light I may give on the subject.
Sara wrote: "As to what she was "intending" to say with her work, I don't presume to know, and no one else should claim to know for certain, either. However, there are obvious representations in the book that were informed by her experience as a woman and as a person of her time, and those can be argued easily with properly cited evidence from the text (or even possibly from her letters or articles and other auxiliary materials). True that.
It's tripe to say that we shouldn't be examining the deeper meaning of a novel. That's like saying that Magritte's "Ceci n'est pas une pipe" is just a nice painting of a pipe. All art MEANS something on some level.
Oh, I wouldn't say that one shouldn't, but one needs to stay aware of the fact that all we see, for example, in Magritte's painting, beyond a representation of a pipe, is a reflection of our personality as formed by our knowledge and experiences.
Without the ability to examine a work in direct dialogue with its creator, it mostly informs us about ourself.
Gerd wrote: "Sara wrote: "As to what she was "intending" to say with her work, I don't presume to know, and no one else should claim to know for certain, either. However, there are obvious representations in th..."Exactly. Technically a reading of any book is about a self-examination more than it is an examination of the author specifically. You're informed by your own past and interests as much as the author was informed by hers.
However, if you can support the argument within particularly the book's context (though biographical context has also become important these days, too, and I would say that is rightfully so), then you can certainly argue that the book speaks to that particular assertion.
Gerd wrote:I do take mild offence with the "questionable relationship" people like to claim has been going on between Mary and Byron. We have no proof conclusive for such a thing far as I know, only Byron's reputation. All we can tell is that they spend time together, so for all we do know they were nothing more heinous than friends. I think that most people's basis for this assertion comes from the fact that Byron would try to hump anything that moved, but I would agree with your assertion. Mary & Percy were still incredibly affectionate at this point, from what I understand, and the only way I could see Byron interposing would be with Percy's assent (or overt participation), and I don't know that Mary or Percy would have been into him at that point. She also expressed distaste for his advances in numerous instances (though I'm not sure about within the context of this particular holiday--but considering she had to be near him for so long, I can imagine she got a little fed up with him).
Sara wrote: "Haley wrote: "I think this was the meaning or moral of the story:"Seek happiness in tranquility and avoid ambition, even if it be only the apparently innocent one of distinguishing yourself in sc..."
I love this book, I loved the movie with deniro. When the book was written, it was rated X...it was sent back to her for changes. So I dont know if we read the after or before version. Monsters dont exist, so we have to create them. Frankenstein is a love story...imagine loving and never being loved in return. Imagine, he taught himself to read,
Yes his appearance was his curse, he was intelligent, articulate, abandoned, but people feared him because of his looks. He was banished.
He cannot be blamed for hating the Dr and for trying to avenge his curse on the man that caused him so much pain, loneliness,
All of us can turn monster if the circumstance are right. Some of us like Dr. Frank was born monster. He stole and bought cadavers, he butchered those bodies for parts and he assembled the monster. The tragedy is that he had a heart, and soul. He was basically a decent guy, a little make up could have done wonders.
If you want make a homunculus, or living being, remember not to use the parts of thieves and rapists and the brain of a murderer. Its a good lesson, one we should all live our lives by. :P ;)
on a more serious note, the influences on the author? She wrote Frankenstein to win a bet between herself, Percy Bysshe Shelley, Lord Byron, and John Polidori, to see who could write the best horror story. After weeks of thinking, she had a dream one night, and that's where the story came from.The main themes of the book seem to be a moral warning about what happens when you don't live up to your responsibilities, which, with the rise of the asbo, can even be said to hold a whole new poignancy in modern days
The brilliance of Frankenstein is the numerous ways in which it can be interpreted and still contain solid meaning. It could be considered a warning for men not to mess with powers beyond their control or It could be also considered social commentary. It could be read from a Feminist perspective or I came up with my own view while studying it this year. I like to view the monster in a manner reflecting the soul of its creator. I think you see how Frankenstein changes as his progeny also develops into a beast.
I also find it interesting that Shelley refers to Frankenstein suddenly finding "so astonishing a power placed within" his hands. Its almost as if some higher power just dropped it into his grip.
I don't see what Victor Frankenstein did as being much different from what men and women do every day by natural means. I think this story is about taking responsibility for the life you create and the consequences of abandoning those responsibilities.
Frankenstein is about the fear any creator (whether artist or parent) has about his or her "creation" being in some way flawed thereby revealing their own deficiencies. Every creator is driven to create yet secretly fears the creation will be an abomination and bring dishonor. Frankenstein rejects his "child" judging it solely on its monstrous appearance though he has in fact created a being vastly superior in intellect. In a way Mary Shelley, by publishing the work anonymously, did as Victor Frankenstein, she set her creation adrift in the world. When she did claim the work as her own, her creation was deemed inferior. Based not on the work itself, rather on the sex of it's creator and that sex's perceived deficiencies.
I would say playing God is certainly a prevalent theme. I also think this novel deals with postpartum depression. I've read that Shelley herself had a child before she wrote this book, suggesting she struggled with coming to terms with motherhood. In the novel, Frankenstein is abhorred by his creation. (Children are literally their parents' creation, just as the monster is Frankenstein's creation, or child.) This suggests that Frankenstein could be seen as an extension of Shelley, as they both reject their creation, or child, and feel guilty for doing so. The idea that parenting, or nurturing, is key to development is also present. The monster, rejected, goes out into the world attempting to find love and understanding, only to be judged by his outward appearance, driving him to rage. He finds no love, and therefore responds to the reject with anger. He has only been taught that the people you love will abandon you. Frankenstein leaves him, the family he grows attached to leaves him once they see he is a "monster." Without love and affection, the creation becomes "a monster."
Michael wrote: "I always looked at this book as a reflection of our society and how we treat each other."I agree with you Michael - there's a lot both on the surface and beneath it (reading into the metaphors, intertextuality, aesthetics), which as a whole really capture the way our society worked and continues to work today. There are so many ways you can look at Frankenstein but I do think the primary purpose (at least for me) seemed to be serving as a reflection and critique of our society, and absolutely how we treat others - the other and each other
Amanda wrote: "I read this book my freshman year of college and absolutely loved it - by far one of my favorite books. There are so many underlying themes that I don't know where to start, but if I had to choose ..."I think you've got it spot on Amanda :) I agree completely - so many underlying themes but the parallel between Victor and the monster is the one I definitely found most prominent and didactic. It seemed to me as if these two characters with seemingly polar lives eventually met their fates together. Victor becomes characteristic of the monster throughout the plot, as if these two parallel lives merged into each other. It might be a way of saying that Good vs Evil exists in everyone, that what we think of as "different" may not be so different after all, or it might serve any of the countless purposes which other people have specified.
Twelvetoads wrote: "Frankenstein is about the fear any creator (whether artist or parent) has about his or her "creation" being in some way flawed thereby revealing their own deficiencies. Every creator is driven to c..."Wow that's an awesome philosophy to take away from it!
Melissa wrote: "Macc wrote: "I spent most of the time reading Frankenstein in the subway and sometimes people would catch glimpses of the title in the cover or inside the book pages and I could feel them looking s..."I feel like the Creature became a monster becuase of the way he was treated. Before he experienced the rejection of the cottagers, he was curious and kind, with a generally high opinion of mankind. In his natural state, untouched by the cruelty of mankind, he was good. It was the mistreatment he suffered at the hands of others that led him to commit atrocities. Yet, even then, he detested what he did - even hated himself for it. Even at the end, to act the part of the monster was against his nature.
I see a lot of meanings in the book, but what spoke the clearest to me were the effects of abandonment.
I studied this book in a class revolving around the lives of authors. What I pulled out from this is very much a God-Complex issue. However, to me it was less about the actual art of science and more about the art of story-telling and creation in any form. From what I remember, Shelley first told the story among friends and it frightened them so that they never looked at Shelley the same again. They were stunned and horrified at the idea of a woman who can spin such terrible and horrifying tales.
Her creation changed how people came to perceive her.
It's the idea that when you create, when you add to the world around you, everything changes.
Science is simply the art of the experiment.
What better experiment is there but telling a new story to a new audience?
The creation, her creation, took on a life of its own and came to destroy her.
It's like the idea of Stephen King— he's not a man anymore, he's the creator of all things horror. He's an idea. The idea is so much more powerful than Stephen King himself that if you met Stephen King you'd probably have such different expectations that you'd be disappointed (although I think King would be as weird and creepy as you imagine - just go with the analogy for me).
It's also a perspective on celebrity culture.
Our celebrities are more than skin and bone to us. They're an idea, and that idea will swallow them up until there's nothing left but the idea. So that when a celebrity does something uncouth we take personal offense to it — because it infringes on our pre-conceived ideas of who we think that celebrity is.
Your family and friends and colleagues will look at you differently once you spit out a book like IT or after you make a film like Antichrist or after you put out a song like Slob on my Knob.
Our Art and our creations will always be more powerful than we are, and we must acknowledge that.
I also agree with the allusion to Shelley's own children. They are her creation and they will eventually represent her. They'll be more powerful than her one day (ideally if they didn't die).
To me, Frankenstein is a warning for all those who wish to value their work and their art more than their friends and family. If you devote yourself to an idea you become something else entirely. If you devote yourself to your art, you will lose your friends and family and in your place will now be your creation.
However, this is only a story. So don't stop creating; just value your friends and family as well.
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This book always struck me as sort of autobiographical. I'm not insinuating that Mary Shelley created a monster and then ran away into the Alps. She had weak men in her life. Godwin remarried after Wollstonecraft's death to a woman who was at best distant to her knew step-daughter. She then married PB Shelley who turned out to be less than what she had hoped for, and it is rumored he took his life (who goes boating in a storm?). Then there is the questionable relationship with Byron, remember she did write the majority of this book while staying with Byron. So there's something to be said there.
Yes, "weird literary theories" should not be applied to all books. Nancy Drew novels and The Davinci Code to name a few (and hey, I like nancy drew!) but many books which survived the Victorian era to come to our contemporary reading should be analyzed using lenses. Think of it this way, when we read this book (or more correctly when we force our students to read this book) we have to ask questions. What relevance does this book have to our current times? This book is a strong indictment of men trying to usurp the role of women and God. Is this is a concern we are having now? Of course, switch on the news and see the controversy over stem-cell research, and sex change operations. I'm for science, but that doesn't mean everyone else is, and that's why this book and it's caution-tale appeal is still a relevant read.
Jay, perhaps you should re-read it?