Classics and the Western Canon discussion

Lily wrote: "Everyman wrote: "Elizabeth wrote: "I haven't heard the term "framing" before in reference to writing. Is it sort of like bookends in that letters at the beginning and then letters at the end? "

It..."

Thanks Lily and Everyman. I'll check out Britannica right away and leave Wikipedia until I've read Frankenstein.

Everyman wrote...Wuthering Heights is another example of a frame story...

You echoed my earlier post about framing and the example of Wuthering Heights (one of my favorite novels, btw). I mentioned some of the reasons for framing that English teachers love to give us (okay, I admit I'm an English Major) but I have often wondered if the reasons were researched. Framing is rarely encountered in contemporary novels - do you think it is off-putting for today's readers?

I haven't read Frankenstein before so it's really a pleasure to realize how much I don't know about the art of this book. I think she's opening her story in a liminal space between the known and unknown, salvation and disaster, fog and ice. This is not exactly a sane voyage - moral or immoral, and the tone of the letters (self-disclosure) don't convince me that the narrator's entirely sane, or entirely truthful from the very beginning. That's not to say that he's untruthful, but the frontier may be internal.

So, we begin with a traveler's tale - it reminds me of (100 years later) Heart of Darkness, out of the chute. It made me smile. I look forward to reading more.

Everyman wrote: "you could perhaps go even further back to the story of Pandora, though in her case it wasn't technology that got her in trouble but the insatiable curiosity which I think also motivates Frankenstein...."

Thank you, Eman. And Pandora is interesting here for more reasons than one. For Pandora ("all-giving") is also an artificial being: she is fashioned of clay by Hephaestus on the orders of Zeus, precisely for the purpose of wreaking revenge on Prometheus for stealing the heavenly fire. (Interestingly, she's the most beautiful woman ever created, in contrast to VF's ugly, male, merely human effort.) But when Zeus sends Pandora to Prometheus's brother Epimetheus, Epimetheus, who has been warned by his brother, declines the gift; and it is only now that Zeus, enraged, has Prometheus chained to a pillar in the Caucasus mountains.

Epimetheus, alarmed by his brother's fate, hastens to marry Pandora after all; and, spurred by the foolish curiosity that has been programmed into her, Pandora goes on to open the jar that Prometheus has warned must be kept closed, thereby releasing the Spites. (All this is from The Greek Myths 1 by Robert Graves.)

According to Graves, Prometheus (whose name means "forethought," as that of Epimetheus means "afterthought") was the creator of man, fashioning humans of clay as Hephaestus did with Pandora. Because Prometheus also taught mankind the arts of architecture, astronomy, mathematics, navigation, medicine, and metallurgy, among others, he stands as man's creator, advocate, and benefactor. His "modern" counterpart, VF, doesn't quite measure up here.

Evalyn wrote: "...Framing is rarely encountered in contemporary novels - do you think it is off-putting for today's readers? ..."

Evalyn -- I can't speak to rarity, but Ruth Ozeki used framing to strong effect in her A tale for the time being, which was on the Man Booker short list in 2013. In fact, it was probably just having read that along with Henry James's The Turn of the Screw not too long ago that made me sensitive to its use by Mary Shelley. It sort of made a certain experiential sense in a summer when the group had been telling ghost stories in the evenings, ala TTotS at Christmas. (It is almost as if the circumstances that sparked the telling create another frame external to the written story.) I hadn't really previously thought about Chaucer's The Canterbury Tales or The Arabian Nights as being examples of framing -- I thought of it more as the programmer creates nested do-loops -- but that literary writers can be less rigorous about passing results across boundaries. Wuthering Heights is a story where its use still confounds my interpretation a bit.

It seems to me that Shelley's use is more of the nested type, but, like Ozeki, it is raising questions for me as to the links, metaphors, figures of speech she consciously created for us to perceive across the boundaries, a little as Shakespeare uses the play within a play.

I am loving following this discussion, helps me dig deeper into the story, plus having a primary science background I am getting educated on literature & literary devices. I also had never heard the term frame stories. Thanks to all who participate so freely!

Bobbi wrote: "I haven't read Frankenstein before so it's really a pleasure to realize how much I don't know about the art of this book. I think she's opening her story in a liminal space between the known and u..."

Nice comment. I particularly like your suspicions about Walton's sanity. We haven't explored that issue yet, but I think that both Walton and Frankstein are a bit unbalanced, excessively obsessive to the point of shutting themselves off from normal social interactions. Not that unusual with highly mono-centric people.

Paul wrote: "Pandora is interesting here for more reasons than one. For Pandora ("all-giving") is also an artificial being: she is fashioned of clay by Hephaestus on the orders of Zeus, precisely for the purpose of wreaking revenge on Prometheus for stealing the heavenly fire. (Interestingly, she's the most beautiful woman ever created, in contrast to VF's ugly, male, merely human effort.)"

I had forgotten that she was herself an artificial creation. Thanks for reminding me -- as you say, it makes the comparison particularly interesting. And it's highly likely that Shelley would have known the myth, though there's probably no way of knowing whether she had it consciously in mind as she wrote.

And yes, as you note, the difference between the god-created (beautiful) and the human-created (horrible) life is telling. And, of course, Adam was also God-created out of earth, and was good.

Seems pretty clear -- Gods can create good life out of inanimate stuff, humans can't, but should stick to the natural process of procreation.

(We're getting a bit beyond the Walton letters which are the nominal topic of this thread, but since it's all part of the first week's reading maybe Laurel will forgive us continuing the issue here where it developed rather than moving it over to the Chapters topic.)

Chris wrote: "I am loving following this discussion, helps me dig deeper into the story, plus having a primary science background I am getting educated on literature & literary devices. I also had never heard t..."

That's what we're here for, to share knowledge and individual understandings of the books so that we may all have a better and richer reading experience. I'm very happy that you're finding it so.

Everyman wrote: "We're getting a bit beyond the Walton letters ..."

Yes, true. I'll migrate over to that thread!

Paul wrote: "Everyman wrote: "We're getting a bit beyond the Walton letters ..."

Yes, true. I'll migrate over to that thread!"

Anything in the first week's reading is fair game to bring into the discussion here.

Robert Walton's letter IV (about 4 paragraphs before the date August 13 17__ the following quote:

"This [spotting the man on the sled] aroused the stranger's attention; and he asked a multitude of questions concerning the route which the daemon*, as he called him, had pursued."

"*Some sources, notably the OED, distinguish the meaning of daemon (inferior divinity) from that of demon (evil spirit)....."

The quote and its reference to a daemon caused me to wonder if Frankenstein's creation (no name?) were actually real (if we suspend reality)or if it is a figment of his imagination. After all, has anyone other than Frankenstein seen the creation up close? Walton and his crew come closest, but they don't seem sure of what they saw.

Didn't we just read about Mordecai's daemon in Daniel Deronda?

Elizabeth wrote: "The quote and its reference to a daemon caused me to wonder if Frankenstein's creation (no name?) were actually real or if it is a figment of his imagination."

Or two aspects of one being. Jekell & Hyde?

The "creature" has indeed no name. It is, so to say, "extremely unbaptized".

Laurele wrote: "Anything in the first week's reading is fair game to bring into the ..."

Ah, OK, thanks, Laurele.

Elizabeth wrote: "'This [spotting the man on the sled] aroused the stranger's attention; and he asked a multitude of questions concerning the route which the daemon*, as he called him, had pursued.'

*Some sources, notably the OED, distinguish the meaning of daemon (inferior divinity) from that of demon (evil spirit)...."

Interesting. I've been wondering about Frankenstein's obsession, and I remembered a passage from The Greeks and the Irrational by E. R. Dodds, in which he notes that Homer, along with other ancient Greeks, attributed unusual mental phenomena to outside agencies:

The recognition, the insight, the memory, the brilliant or perverse idea, have this in common, that they come suddenly, as we say, "into a man’s head." Often he is conscious of no observation or reasoning which has led up to them. In that case, how can he call them "his"? A moment ago they were not in his mind; now they are there. Something has put them there, and that something is other than himself. More than this he does not know. So he speaks of it noncommittally as "the gods" or "some god," or more often (especially when its prompting has turned out to be bad) as a daemon. [My italics]

It does seem that Frankenstein, like a true obsessive, can't stop himself. So there is some kind of fate at work, or an outside agency--a daemon. And it seems most interesting that he refers to his (presumed) monster by this term. As though the monster were the embodiment of the thing that planted the thought in Frankenstein's head.

Elizabeth wrote: "The quote and its reference to a daemon caused me to wonder if Frankenstein's creation (no name?) were actually real (if we suspend reality)or if it is a figment of his imagination. After all, has anyone other than Frankenstein seen the creation up close?"

We may find out later in the book. But if it isn't real, who killed Michael?

Everyman wrote: "Elizabeth wrote: "The quote and its reference to a daemon caused me to wonder if Frankenstein's creation (no name?) were actually real (if we suspend reality)or if it is a figment of his imaginatio..."

I asked myself the same question after posting above and that's a good argument against my guess. The only answer could be Frankenstein did it!

Elizabeth wrote: "I asked myself the same question after posting above and that's a good argument against my guess. The only answer could be Frankenstein did it! "

In which case, he really WAS the murderer, and let Justine be executed in his place. But it would have to mean he was totally, not just partly, insane, wouldn't it?

Everyman wrote: "Elizabeth wrote: "I asked myself the same question after posting above and that's a good argument against my guess. The only answer could be Frankenstein did it! "

In which case, he really WAS the murderer, and let Justine be executed in his place. But it would have to mean he was totally, not just partly, insane, wouldn't it? ..."

Yes, it certainly would, but who knows whether an insane person would remember or be able to figure that out if his mind is disconnected from reality!

I was thinking this was a horror story, in fact it is, but I guess I was hoping that it had roots in reality or at least plausibility.

Everyman wrote: "While I was reading this first section I kept thinking of the Manhattan Project and its dedication to exploring the bounds knowledge despite nobody knowing what the result would be of this awesome power, if they could harness it, and whether, as some people feared, it would set off a reaction which would replicate around the globe and destroy all life on the planet. "

I meant to comment on this because I too thought of the Manhattan Project in terms of the potential devastating impact and scientists wading into the unknown. In addition, of course there is Oppenheimer's quoting "I am become death, the destroyer of worlds" which reflects some misgivings at their achievement. Of course, it was a different situation than for VF in that it wasn't science for the sake of science, but for a specific aim, and in that they had each other.

I had the opportunity to work with some of the Manhattan Project scientists who went on to work for nuclear nonproliferation. It was fascinating. Most were European and many Jewish (many lost relatives in the concentration camps). Although they were on the edge of the research/scientific frontier, they were very practical in their endeavor, particularly having seen Hitler's vision of the world up close and personal. Most of those I met were conflicted about their role in the project, especially when it was apparent that Germany not only did not have the bomb but was likely to lose the war. These men were in their 20s and early 30s at the time - I cannot imagine having to make those kinds of decisions under those conditions and at their age.

Back to the issue of the reliability of the narrators, I would actually argue that Victor is not a particularly reliable narrator. Imagine how different the story would be without the frame, if we had only him to rely upon to tell us the story. Walton inserts himself--or is inserted by Shelley--into the first-person narrative rarely (one instance I noted was at the end of Ch. 3 where Frankenstein apparently finds Walton growing bored with his digressions) but that is enough to make us feel that we are "safe" (as I think someone else said above?) in Walton's hands. Remember, Frankenstein had what looks like a nervous breakdown upon the creature's animation. We will be wary of taking everything he says as gospel.

Lily wrote: "Thomas wrote: "...From the very beginning this appears to be a tale about the defiance of nature, disrespecting boundaries, and generally poking one's nose where it doesn't belong. ..."

Is that an..."

I was struck by this line in Ch. 3: "Learn from me...how dangerous is the acquirement of knowledge, and how much happier that man is who believes his native town to be the world, than he who aspires to become greater than his nature will allow."
I couldn't help but think that message would likely have been received just as badly in 1818 as it would today.

Susan from MD wrote: " In addition, of course there is Oppenheimer's quoting "I am become death, the destroyer of worlds" which reflects some misgivings at their achievement."

Which is in a close parallel with VF claiming that he is a murderer.

In both cases, accepting responsibility for the consequences of their pursuit of science into unknown realms.

Elizabeth wrote: "I was thinking this was a horror story, in fact it is, but I guess I was hoping that it had roots in reality or at least plausibility. .."

I was a little disappointed in how swiftly Victor assembles and vivifies the monster -- after all the build-up I was expecting more detail and realism. Victor builds his creature, brings it to life, and then gets scared and runs away. Presto!

But now I am looking at the story more as allegory. Like many other great stories that eschew realism, its meaning is probably more symbolic than literal.

I agree--funny that we get absolutely nothing at all on how he actually animates the monster. But I imagine that whatever Shelley might have done to describe that would have been problematic: subject to scientific scrutiny and deflating the illusion as a result. I'm not a science fiction reader, but if anyone is, I'd be interested in how SF writers handle this predicament in other works.

Perhaps Cosmos set me on this train of thought, but I noticed how God, Frankenstein, and Pygmalion each are portrayed as creating an adult human or human-like creature. I find that particularly interesting in the case of Frankenstein, given that his story was written by a woman, a woman who knew well the difficulties of childbirth.

Kathy wrote: "I agree--funny that we get absolutely nothing at all on how he actually animates the monster. "

I'm actually glad that she didn't try to get into details there. Whatever she wrote, we would be spending a lot of time and energy here dissecting the scientific validity of her claims, the plausibility of her approach, etc.

As it is, we simply get the monster, and can concentrate on the philosophical, ethical, and moral issues surrounding its creation and treatment.

After all, if the Bible doesn't say any more about the creation of Adam than that he was made from a handful of dust, why should we expect Shelley to go any further? [g]

Everyman wrote: "Kathy wrote: "I agree--funny that we get absolutely nothing at all on how he actually animates the monster. "

I'm actually glad that she didn't try to get into details there. Whatever she wrote, ..."

Since it's never been done, how could she explain it?

Fiction! :)

Kathy wrote: "Fiction! :)"

And you expect me to believe that?

Thomas wrote: "Kathy wrote: "Fiction! :)"

And you expect me to believe that?"

LOL!

Thomas wrote: "Kathy wrote: "Fiction! :)"

And you expect me to believe that?"

If it (the fiction) is good enough, yes. So, do we believe what Frankenstein (Walton, Shelley) tells us? Or at least certain things, or up to a certain degree?

But then, accepting a text does not depend only on its quality. Think of cultural status and other reasons for prejudices.
Not to mention questions concerning different types or degrees of belief (literal, allegorical, 'intentional')?

It's true that fiction doesn't give a writer carte blanche. In fact, I've found that most readers hold fiction to a higher standard of "credibility," if that's the word, than real life. For example, we can all think of someone who behaves irrationally, with no apparent cause or explanation. That same person as a character in a novel would be called out as not credible: "Why would she have done that? It doesn't make sense! I don't understand/believe it." Hence the idea that "fact is stranger than fiction."

Wendel wrote: "...But then, accepting a text does not depend only on its quality. Think of cultural status and other reasons for prejudices...."

And, as Elizabeth intimates, acceptance may depend on our understanding of reality and of technical feasibility.

Thomas wrote: "Kathy wrote: "Fiction! :)"

And you expect me to believe that?"

But don't you accept, at least for the premise of the story, that he DID succeed?

Everyman wrote: "Thomas wrote: "Kathy wrote: "Fiction! :)"

And you expect me to believe that?"

But don't you accept, at least for the premise of the story, that he DID succeed?"

I was just kidding, but it is a serious question: how do we "believe" something that we know is not true? I think it's in the way you suggest -- we choose the illusion for the sake of the story. If the story enchants us in a skillful way, we put aside critical thinking and let the story take us where it will. It's a testament to the power of poetry (in the broad sense) that we are willing to do that.

But in this particular instance -- the scene where VF brings his creature to life -- I didn't think the poetry was all that skillful. On the other hand, I have no difficulty in believing that the creature is real and sincere when he begins his narrative, sounding every bit the proper 19th century Englishman.

Thomas wrote: "I was just kidding, but it is a serious question: how do we "believe" something that we know is not true?"

Fair question. But if we really applied this standard, how many novels would really pass muster? I mean, look at all the coincidences that fill, just for one example, Dickens's work. We know things like that may happen occasionally, but just don't happen with the frequency and convenience that Dickens needs them to. Yet we accept and read on.

Kathy wrote: "It's true that fiction doesn't give a writer carte blanche. In fact, I've found that most readers hold fiction to a higher standard of "credibility," if that's the word, than real life. For example..."

I think this is the challenge with reading books that provoke us, in various ways, to let go of our own reality and try something new.

There are readers who focus on stories that are very much like their own lives - they want to identify with the characters and see themselves reflected in the scenarios described. In other GR groups, I've seen comments like those you mention and often they are part of a "I wouldn't do that, so it's wrong" mindset.

Other readers want to escape their reality or at least experience characters/locations/activities different from their daily life - they enjoy letting go of stories about people "just like them". To enjoy these books, a reader needs to be open-minded and allow for the idea that people may respond in an unusual way - sort of "Isn't that interesting, I wouldn't have thought of that".

Neither is right or wrong, but I think to enjoy certain books, the person has to be in the second camp - Frankenstein is one of those books.


Everyman, I chuckled at the Dickens reference - I just finished David Copperfield and I admit to a little eye rolling as various characters coincidentally wandered back in to the story!


Thomas wrote: "I was just kidding, but it is a serious question: how do we "believe" something that we know is not true? I think it's in the way you suggest -- we choose the illusion for the sake of the story. If the story enchants us in a skillful way, we put aside critical thinking and let the story take us where it will."

Perhaps it's not about putting aside critical thinking as much as choosing which aspects of the story provide the most interesting critical thoughts? In Frankenstein, I'm less concerned with how the creature comes to life, and am more interested in what led to his creation and what happened after (his actions and those of VF). Therefore, the fact that I have to do some hand waving to get past the "spark of life" scene is not a big deal for me.

Susan from MD wrote: "Perhaps it's not about putting aside critical thinking as much as choosing which aspects of the story provide the most interesting critical thoughts? "

That sounds about right to me. Skillful fiction writers have the ability to focus the reader's attention on the aspects of the story that matter. They're like magicians, in the best sense, or pickpockets, in the worst. They distract us with one thing while they get away with another.

Tolstoy can have Pierre Buzukhov wandering around the front lines in the midst of a raging battle, talking to soldiers loading and firing artillery, watching men getting blown to bits, and walking away without serious injury because Bezukhov is such a great character. If Tolstoy had offered a more realistic account and Pierre had been hit and died right there on the field, I would have been extremely disappointed, because I am more invested in the character of Pierre than I am in the reality of the battle. I want to believe, and my faith in the character trumps the reality of warfare.

Like Pygmalion, "how" the creature comes to life is not really what the story is about.

It could have been -- my impression is that some of the films make it more a part of the story line although I'm not sure I've ever seen more than parts of an entire movie. In these days of cloning et al, I suspect there are some science fiction stories more along those lines, although I don't read enough of those to suggest an example.

For our personal appreciation 'literary quality' may be only of secondary importance. That could explain why I feel the Harold Blooms have so little to add. Would I really mind what a shrink has to say about my wife?

Reading is a personal (even private) process, just as the 'decision' to like someone or not. I don't care much for Pierre Bezukhov, nor for his environment (that is, W&P). But while Frankenstein is not much of a hero either, I am still interested in his world. I like the book, even if there are issues with the writing.

I guess I'm just trying to say that a good story may be spoiled by the voice that tells it.

Wendel wrote: "I guess I'm just trying to say that a good story may be spoiled by the voice that tells it...."

You lost me, Wendel. Are you saying Tolstoy spoiled the story of Pierre?

Personally, I need not like characters nor even their environment to be glad for a read. My own mantra is that if a book leaves me one idea that lasts for a lifetime, it probably was worthy of my time to read. Many of books I have read I might be hard pressed to defend as meeting that criterion, but most would have been dropped if there hadn't been a sense of that potential while reading.

The reference to Pierre Bezukhov reminds me somewhat of Winston Churchill (having just read the third and final volume of Last Lion), and WC would wander into dangerous situations a lot (he loved the smell of danger (meaning excitement to him)) yet always survived. But I agree with the above discussion, I think we just let a good story roll (suspension of disbelief). Of course where the story is not well told, we tend to become more critical.

Sue wrote: "The reference to Pierre Bezukhov reminds me somewhat of Winston Churchill (having just read the third and final volume of Last Lion), and WC would wander into dangerous situations a lot (he loved t..."

Nice comparison. As Kathy pointed out earlier, readers often hold fiction to a higher standard of credibility than "true" accounts. Churchill's biography might be hard to believe if it were cast as a novel.

Thomas wrote: "Readers often hold fiction to a higher standard of credibility than "true" accounts. Churchill's biography might be hard to believe if it were cast as a novel...."

Yes, and I think that's necessary. Reality, after all, doesn't need to convince anyone; if we have trouble believing it, that's our problem.

I was intrigued by Thomas's mention of the Pierre scene in W&P, for my response to it was, I think, different. In that case I saw the unexpectedness of Pierre's access to the action as a sign of its credibility. I've never been on a battlefield, in this century or any other, so I can't say for sure, but in that case I trusted Tolstoy's authority. To me it was strange enough to be true. And I know that some people have seemingly miraculous powers to escape harm on battlefields; Hitler was reportedly one such in World War I.

To me Frankenstein is a different case. Aristotle in his Poetics identifies plot as the part of any poem that contributes most to its effect; and he says that in order for a plot to be well formed, then its events must proceed "sequentially in accordance with probability or necessity." Now different readers might have different notions of what is probable, but I think that when an author is telling an improbable story, then he has set himself a special challenge to sell it to his audience. Special creative efforts are called for to do this.

Readers will accept almost anything if it's part of the story hypothesis--the "what if?" that launches the story: what if Germany had won World War II, what if unicorns galloped freely across the Great Plains, what if a miniaturized submarine were injected into a human body. But after the hypothesis, then necessity and probability need to take over, and, I would argue, in especially strong degree when the initial premise is way out. To me, animating the monster is a plot development in Frankenstein and not part of the story premise, so to me the author had a duty to explain it--to make it probable. And this is what the movie attempted--very effectively, I thought--in 1931. The creators perceived this weakness and tried to fix it.

Paul wrote: "...To me, animating the monster is a plot development in Frankenstein and not part of the story premise, so to me the author had a duty to explain it--to make it probable..."

I think the first times I read Frankenstein I felt as you express here, Peter -- and it was a source of dissatisfaction, even cause for disregard. This time, by putting that need aside, I have been able to somewhat better understand why the story seems to be standing the test of time. Does the "how" matter to the story as much as the having been done?

(Adam from dust, Eve from a rib. Still powerful stories? Here, from mismatched bones from charnel houses does lend a certain amount of horror and distaste,)

Thomas wrote: "Tolstoy can have Pierre Buzukhov wandering around the front lines in the midst of a raging battle, talking to soldiers loading and firing artillery, watching men getting blown to bits, and walking away without serious injury because Bezukhov is such a great character. "

Great example. In reality, isn't that nearly as unbelievable as a scientist being able to infuse life into an inanimate collection of body parts (which in fact may not be all that far away from modern science -- already we have people who are walking collections of various body parts, hearts, livers, lungs, hands, faces, you name it taken from other bodies and grafted into or onto theirs?

Paul wrote: "Readers will accept almost anything if it's part of the story hypothesis--the "what if?" that launches the story: what if Germany had won World War II, what if unicorns galloped freely across the Great Plains, what if a miniaturized submarine were injected into a human body. But after the hypothesis, then necessity and probability need to take over, and, I would argue, in especially strong degree when the initial premise is way out. "

Excellent point.

Is Frankenstein's creation really any more unbelievable than students flying on brooms around a secret castle (which they got to by walking through a solid brick wall) chasing a little golden ball with wings? Or than Hobbits braving terrible dangers to cast a magical ring into a volcano? Yet we read Tolkein and Rowling with pleasure and, at least I and I suspect most of you, without complaining that this is all scientifically absurd.

As you say, we should accept almost any initial hypothesis if it is carried out in a coherent and rational manner.

Everyman wrote: "...if it is carried out in a coherent and rational manner...."

I suspect judgment as to "coherent and rational manner" varies widely from reader to reader. And from context to context, even from mood to mood, for a given reader.

Susanna wrote: "...However, Shelley's story is obviously fiction. Perhaps, she is saying that Adam's story is probably fiction as well. ..."

I have no idea whether such is logic Mary Shelley ever used. That is certainly a separate discussion from whether either story has assumed classic value in human attempts to understand -- which is closer to the analogy I was attempting to make here. I have absolutely no interest in discussing on this board the objective reality of any part of the Biblical creation stories -- or how an author might view them (except possibly in direct quotation as relevant to the story at hand). I was only trying to say that stories need not include "recipes" or "instruction manuals" for getting from one point to another in order to provoke powerful insights.

Susanna -- I'm not certain of the meaning of your first sentence: "I thought Mary Shelley was making a comment on the Adam and Eve story. I would agree that many interesting and complex comparisons can be made between how God relates to creation ("his people") throughout Biblical stories and how Frankenstein relates to his creature. Probably tricky ground for this forum, however, as I perhaps unintentionally revealed. (view spoiler)[ We'll see such comparisons possible when Frankenstein must make a decision on whether to provide a companion for his creature. Beyond the creation stories, the Noah story speaks of a commitment to not again destroy what was created. Numerous other analogies are probably possible. Certainly Mary Shelley was writing to an audience with many of them well aware of Biblical stories. (hide spoiler)]