Reading the Classics discussion

Sorry this is up so late! Please discuss Frankenstein here. If you haven't started the book, there is still plenty of time to read it.

Besides being a classic, Frankenstein could be considered an example of romantic literature, science fiction, horror, & pop-culture. I wonder: do these approaches need different kinds of reading? I'll be interested to find how others read it?

I'm halfway through the book and it's not as great as I had been led to believe.

Bill wrote: "Besides being a classic, Frankenstein could be considered an example of romantic literature, science fiction, horror, & pop-culture. I wonder: do these approaches need different kinds of reading? I..."

I read this book twice during my undergrad. The first one was English 101, reading it as 'apocalyptic' fiction. There was a lot of focus on the layering of the narratives & the stripping away of these layers, as well as the layers of societal belonging. Reading it this way gave way to the reading we did in my Science Fiction course: my prof did a lot of work regarding SF as a metaphor for 'otherness' & isolation within society. So while Eng 101 was more focused on the destruction of all that was known & rebirth, whereas SF focused on the isolation of it all, I felt like these readings still could be approached in the same manner.

(I do apologize for the vagueness of my response. I'm knee deep in other readings and not really that far along in this book this time around ... as in, I took it off my shelf & read over the pages I'd previously marked & the notes that I took on the inside back cover. Eeps!)

Interesting ideas Bevin. The idea of societal belonging is more obvious to me. The reading was getting to be a depressing reality about the human condition...perhaps that is why I said what I did about it not being as great as I had heard. It's the eternal "good vs evil" depiction which was deflating my eagerness to read it.

Pretty good novel, the monster was probably better spoken than any other character. Reminds me of Shylock's 'do I not bleed' speech, excusing his monstrous behavior on the treatment he's received. Sad story culminating in a moving final scene between creator and his creation.

Read it at last! Apart from Shelley's wonderful descriptions that make me wish to discover all the places that I haven't seen, she managed to pose us with an ethical dilemma. Were we Frankenstein, would we have chosen his course in not providing a mate for his creation?

I wished that he had, as I mourned for this being that he had created. I understand Frankenstein's decision. Ultimately, he resigned himself to HIS and his friends' fate rather than risk the lives of the population at large; a bit of a 'Sophie's choice' scenario. HIS choice seemed to stem from
an element of trust on Frankenstein's part and whether or not he could take the risk. We are left with, however, a question regarding his creation. Had he, his creation, now satisfied his Blutlust or was this twist in his nature to lead to further blood-letting?

I just started this. I think I will be finished by the end of the month, though.

So far we've had two narrators...it almost seemed like those little Russian nesting dolls, one narrator inside the other narrator. We began with Robert Walton's letters home to his sister (how did the mail work in the Arctic anyway? regular mail delivery seemed far-fetched...). Walton mentions the guy in the sled. Then the guy in the sled, now pulled aboard the boat, begins telling his story...so two "frames."

You're right, Lobstergirl. I hadn't noticed the switch!

Oh, and another Russian nesting doll: now the monster is telling his story to Frankenstein...

I have to say it seems like a very amateurish way to construct a novel. But apparently Shelley was only 19? So that explains something, anyway.

Bill wrote: "Besides being a classic, Frankenstein could be considered an example of romantic literature, science fiction, horror, & pop-culture. I wonder: do these approaches need different kinds of reading? I..."

Yes, I think they do need different kinds of reading.

I'm struck by how unrealistic everything is. I know, I know. It's a book about a human monster created from scratch. I shouldn't expect any realism from it. But I do accept a human monster built from scratch. I accept it as the premise of the book. But other things, I expect to conform to logic and realism. For example, the monster is observing Agatha and Felix and their blind father. They are in a cottage. How far away is the monster? How is it he can see everything that goes on in the cottage? He's not looking through the window; he's farther away than that. Yet he has an omniscient perspective. He can see them reading books and talking and eating meals. It's annoying.

Also...he learns language so fast. He's reading Paradise Lost and The Sorrows of Werther and Roman history - he was just an illiterate hunk of flesh a few years ago. Apparently he is the fastest learner EVER.

Eh, I cut Frankenstein slack for being such an old book (published when Dickens was 6 years old). Nowadays we generally expect more realism in our fantasy, so that Crichton can almost convince us it's possible to bring back the dinosaurs.

The monster, however he was created I think is the smartest person in the story, and is the most eloquent. He has no friends to speak up for him so has to be able to do it himself.

Even in Young Frankenstein the monster is finally able to speak, and argues his case persuasively.

I don't cut it slack for being an old book. It's not as old as Austen's works, which are much superior, or e.g. Evelina by Frances Burney which was published in 1778 (when Burney was about 26), which is also much superior. I suppose you can cut Mary Shelley slack for only being 18 when she wrote it, although I don't; if you write an inferior novel at age 18, that's a sign you need to hold off on publishing and develop your talent a little more.

And I'm not just talking about the little unrealistic points in the plot. She should have cut down on her cliches. Now, of course, these are the cliches of the early 19th century, not those of today. Unless you read a lot of early 19th century novels, you might not know that they are cliches. Her overuse of the word "amiable" is an example. I didn't count the number of times she used it, but it's got to be dozens. It gets old very fast.

Hi Lobstergirl, I suspended belief in reading this novel. That's why I enjoyed it. I've had to do that on many occasions while watching movies etc. I suppose it's a choice and according to my frame of mind at the time.

Regardless of the many pitfalls, I think that Shelley does manage to present us with ethical questions. For example, can the monster be held culpable for his actions as he is made in the image of his creator? (Well, Frankenstein may want to dispute the image bit!). He is not a human being; not made in the image of God, as many believe. And so it goes on ...

Not the best novel in history, but I understand it's place as a classic.

Lobstergirl wrote: "Oh, and another Russian nesting doll: now the monster is telling his story to Frankenstein...

I have to say it seems like a very amateurish way to construct a novel. But apparently Shelley was only 19? So that explains something, anyway.
"

I actually like the different perspectives, particularly the difference between the way Frankstein and the creation describe their relationship.

What I find very unfortunate is the way that movie versions of the book completely distort it. The creation is presented as a soulless monster, whereas in fact he wants to be a very caring, loving person, but the world treats him so cruelly.

If every person had to read the actual book, would there be more compassion for those among us who are differently abled, or who are physically deformed by birth or by injury or illness?

The book is a fascinating look at the nature-nurture controversy. By nature, the creature is one thing. But his nurture, or lack of it, turn him into something quite opposed to his nature. If Frankenstein had seen himself as a parent, responsible for the right education and behavior of the life he had created, what might the creature have turned out to be? But it's like a woman giving birth to a deformed baby and then totally rejecting it, not even giving it a name, casting it totally out of the human race. What did Frankenstein expect?

I totally agree, Everyman. I hoped against hope with bated breath that the cottagers would look past the creature's deformities and embrace him; even metaphorically. Sadly it was not to be.

Unfortunately, too many people in this world are sheltered from those who do not physically fit the stereotype. There is so often a hidden-ness concerning people who don't fit into the 'normal' run-of-the-mill face of humanity.

I worked on different occasions with young adults with profound learning disabilities and likewise older adults. We went on outings to the cinema or to a local French café and although no one was verbally abusive, it was obvious that for many their presence made the other clients feel uncomfortable.

I confess that at my first meeting with a few of those who were profoundly learning-disabled my inward reaction was one of shock, which I am not proud to say. As time went on I was able to form bonds with them that transcended any disabilities. They were just people like me with needs and longings, which sadly often remained unexpressed.

Lobstergirl asked:

"How far away is the monster? How is it he can see everything that goes on in the cottage?"

He's in a lean-to shed,where one wall is shared with the "adjacent cottage"; the cottage chimney helps to keep the shed warm, and he can look into the cottage through chinks in the shared wall. I found some things in the novel unrealistic, but the idea that he can hear conversations from the next room isn't, particularly when it's been shown he has extra-human abilities.

The fact that Victor and the monster are psychically attuned (a common idea in romantic literature) excused a lot of stuff that would have otherwise been crazy circumstantial, however it makes Victor's conviction that the monster would kill Victor, and not his wife, on his wedding night beyond stupid! I had no patience with that even before we find out what happened.

I like Everyman's comparison of the situation between Victor and the monster to that of a mother rejecting a deformed child. I think Victor was right in feeling that he was the cause of the monster's murderous rampage, but at the same time Victor never grappled with the greatest evil he did, that of abandoning and demonizing the monster.

Somewhat ironically, the monster doesn't hold Victor nearly so accountable as I would have. He repeatedly complains about other people who didn't have the full picture rejecting him, but when he tells his story halfway through the book, he lets Victor off. His earliest memories are so vague, I'm not sure he consciously realized what Victor had done, or that Victor had deliberately shunned and abandoned him.

But I think the fact that Victor never confronts himself with the full evil of what he has done -- he blames himself for bringing evil to life, rather than recognizing the influence he had in turning that life toward evil -- is a deep flaw. The monster originally just wanted a family; he turned to the idea of Victor creating a wife for him out of the conviction that there was no other choice, but had Victor offered him the friendship and affection he so craved, he probably could have coped with the fact that he could never marry and was the only one of his kind.

I'd heard the book was about the dangers of scientific progress, which is certainly what Victor thinks is going on; but I think it's really more about a failure of love. Victor wanted to create life out of sheer pride; when that pride resulted in a "child," he rejected it, because it wouldn't give him what he wanted.

Sheryl wrote: "I'd heard the book was about the dangers of scientific progress, which is certainly what Victor thinks is going on; but I think it's really more about a failure of love."

Nice comment. I think the original readership did see it more about the dangers of scientific progress, since at the time it was written science and industry were still developing and people were much closer to the pre-industrial age and aware of the negative things science and industry brought to society. Modern readers are much more comfortable with science, and have turned more of our attention to love, which is a central aspect of modern awareness but was, I think, less so for our ancestors (consider that almost nobody in the West today would think of marrying for mere convenience or security without romantic love, whereas that was fairly common in earlier centuries.

I agree with you that we are more comfortable with science in this era. Yet the debate over "creating life" is probably more intense than ever, since cloning and the like are more possible than ever. And, personally, I am not convinced that pursuing cloning or other methods of life creation are necessarily a good idea. I agree with a lot of people in Shelly's age that God is the source of life, and that trying to be God by "imposing on God's territory" is wrong.

So there is a sense where I agreed with Victor that he'd done wrong by trying to create life, because I do think he was seeking "to be like God" in the satanic sense. But I also felt he was wrong by insisting that his sin of creation meant that the Creature he created must be inherently wrong. The Bible teaches that God can bring good out of evil -- Victor refusing to see that was just a continuation of his original sin of trying to be a god. He was still, to my mind, giving himself powers that are rightfully God's, and then compounding that sin by demonizing someone else.

Which I'd think would be a legitimate line of thought for a Christian of Mary Shelly's day, even if they were wary of science dabbling in God's particular province. But of course none of the commentary I've read on Frankenstein has been from a Christian perspective, and certainly Mary Shelly and her crowd were not Christian; could be Christians of the time didn't read that sort of thing, much.

In my own youth, Christians who read science fiction were tough to find; Christian fans of such speculative fiction were probably even rarer in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries!