Frankenstein or The Modern Prometheus: The 1818 Text (Oxford World's Classics) [Paperback]

What exactly gives a novel, written by a twenty-year-old European girl from the Victorian era, the wings of literary longevity needed to carry it across two centuries and the Atlantic Ocean? How has it been able to propagate itself across contemporary American Culture in such a way that it can be found on any given day everywhere from cartoons-that big orange thing with tennis shoes chasing bugs bunny through a castle-to upper division university literature seminars? Well, it IS a monster story, but that doesn't explain it. It is pretty well written, for having a young author, but only in the Romantic tradition, with all of the attendant thickly written melodrama and blubbery prose-think Anne Rice without the Prozac or sex. So Shelley's literary talents don't really explain it either. It does sort of begin the mad-scientist routine that we 'modern' folks love so much, which picked up some real momentum with the publication of Stevenson's 'Jekyll and Hyde'. I suspect that partially accounts for some of its continuing appeal to the adult reader and movie-goer. Shelley did spend a great deal of energy ruminating on the possible moral and ethical implications of messing around with the natural order of things. She let the good doctor cross that line and mess around with some taboo stuff, the defeat of death and all of that. And her commentary on the matter is clear: good old-fashioned Romantic fear. The monster really lets him have it. I won't go into it, I don't want to give away any of the story. Now we're beginning to understand some of its appeal, but even a decent monster story and fore-shadowing of the human-cloning debate don't entirely account for the fact that there will surely be at least one kid who, with stitches painted on his green face and mock bolts sticking from the sides of his neck, will lurch up to my doorstep October 31st and holler 'Trick or Treat' in monsterspeak. Here's where I need to get a bit more serious with my analysis, because I suspect that Frankenstein is one of just a few texts that is actually important, because it was instrumental in helping literature-an as expository art form-climb to the next level. The Victorian era was a landscape of chaos-think Industrial and French revolutions-from which a most unsightly, energetic, and important monster lurched to life and strode across Europe like a colossus. No, not Frankenstein's monster, I'm talking about Freud. Intellectuals of the day had wonderful avenues of speculation to discuss over coffee. All kinds of new things were going on and it is no wonder that, from that great mixing of intellectual nutrients-the Victorian petri-dish of ideas and ideals-we get Mary Shelley's gem. It combines, in ambitious literary metaphor, Freud's ideas of the ego, id, and unconscious-Frank, his creation, and the 'desert mountains and deep, glacial ravines'-with concerns over science, and all the while paying homage to the backdrop of Christianity that lay under Europe like the mantle of the Earth-a creator who despises his creation, who, in turn, loves and hates his creator. It's wonderful stuff. The Victorian century, with all that was going on, was just ripe for this kind of mixed speculation and commentary, and we are the lucky inheritors of the fruits of that chaotic time. Frankenstein, because of its depth of conscience, and the breadth of its ambitious, allegorical commentary, will undoubtedly be around for quite some time. I urge prospective readers to set aside their previous ideas about the story, their visions of lurching monsters-I always get the tennis-shoed, orange hairball or the blockhead in Young Frankenstein howling 'Fire Bad!'-and take the time to read the story from a fresh perspective. It's well worth it.

Upon first glance, Mary Shelleyï¿s Frankenstein can be seen as a simple horror story of a brilliant, if not obsessive scientist who in his quest to create life unwittingly unleashes a hideous, seemingly unstoppable monster upon the world. As the novel progresses, the reader must decide who the real monster of the story is. Is it the murderous creature, Frankenstein creates? Or is it Frankenstein himself. Ultimately, this question leads to a chilling finale amid the frozen arctic in which both characters apparently perish forever.
That would be the impression one would get after just a light reading of the text, but if one were to look much closer at the novel, they may discover many other things about this re-markable piece of Victorian literature. One of the major themes in Frankenstein seems to be one of rebellion. Victor Frankenstein rebels against the laws of nature by playing God and creating life. In turn, his creation also rebels against a society that fears and hates him. Before this hap-pens, though, the creature must first learn the concept of rebellion. The creature does this in through books it finds while hiding out in the barn of an old cabin. As the creature carries out its self-education, one book it turns to is Paradise Lost. Upon reading this, the creature remarks, ï¿Many times I considered Satan as the fitter emblem of my condition; for often, like him, when I viewed the bliss on my protectors, the bitter gall of envy rose within meï¿ (Shelley 105). The creature takes on many aspects of Satan from Paradise Lost, and can perhaps be called a ï¿Satanic Heroï¿ because of this. The creature in this book can be seen as rebelling against a society that fears and hates him.
Other important items, a reader can look for upon reading this novel is an emphasis on extremes, excess and feelings that appears throughout the course of the book. This emphasis on extremes can be best discerned by Victor Frankensteinï¿s decision not to make a mate for the creature. In regards to this, he states, ï¿ï¿ for the first time, the wickedness of my promise burst upon me; I shuddered to think that future ages might curse me as their pest, whose selfishness had not hesitated to buy its own peace at the price perhaps of the existence of the whole human raceï¿ (Shelley 138). Here we see that Frankensteinï¿s mindset is one of extremes. He believes that his work can either save mankind by curing death or destroy mankind completely. Simi-larly, the landscapes described in Frankenstein are ones of excess. They are rugged and craggy, extremes of nature.
It would be an understatement to say that this novel has had a great effect on many forms of literature that have followed it. However, Frankenstein can also be seen as more than a sim-ple horror story. For some reason, we cannot truly hate the creature despite the numerous acts of depravity it might exact in its quest for vengeance. No matter how many innocents die by his hands, the creature still appears somewhat sympathetic to us. Perhaps this is why in the original cut of James Whalesï¿ film version of Frankenstein he had a scene in which Boris Karloffï¿s creature attempts to rescue a little girl he has thrown into a pond, upon realizing that she cannot swim. This scene was eventually cut before the film was released, a result no doubt of a society unable to find sympathy in a monster.
That is not the case for the many who have read Shelleyï¿s novel though. In the end, the creature may be more human than it is given credit for. Reaching the end of the book, we are left feeling that perhaps the only thing the creature wanted was to have a mate, and to not be lonely. That has to be something all human beings long for at least once in their lives.