Connections between Prometheus and Frankenstein

<!– /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:Wingdings; panose-1:5 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0; mso-font-charset:2; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:0 268435456 0 0 -2147483648 0;} @font-face {font-family:”Cambria Math”; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:roman; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-1610611985 1107304683 0 0 159 0;} @font-face {font-family:Calibri; panose-1:2 15 5 2 2 2 4 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:swiss; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-1610611985 1073750139 0 0 159 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:”"; margin-top:0in; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:10.0pt; margin-left:0in; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:”Calibri”,”sans-serif”; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:”Times New Roman”; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} p.MsoListParagraph, li.MsoListParagraph, div.MsoListParagraph {mso-style-priority:34; mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; margin-top:0in; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:10.0pt; margin-left:.5in; mso-add-space:auto; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:”Calibri”,”sans-serif”; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:”Times New Roman”; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} p.MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst, li.MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst, div.MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst {mso-style-priority:34; mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-type:export-only; margin-top:0in; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:.5in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-add-space:auto; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:”Calibri”,”sans-serif”; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:”Times New Roman”; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} p.MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle, li.MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle, div.MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle {mso-style-priority:34; mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-type:export-only; margin-top:0in; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:.5in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-add-space:auto; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:”Calibri”,”sans-serif”; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:”Times New Roman”; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} p.MsoListParagraphCxSpLast, li.MsoListParagraphCxSpLast, div.MsoListParagraphCxSpLast {mso-style-priority:34; mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-type:export-only; margin-top:0in; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:10.0pt; margin-left:.5in; mso-add-space:auto; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:”Calibri”,”sans-serif”; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:”Times New Roman”; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:”Times New Roman”; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} .MsoPapDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; margin-bottom:10.0pt; line-height:115%;} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.0in 1.0in 1.0in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} /* List Definitions */ @list l0 {mso-list-id:1565989684; mso-list-type:hybrid; mso-list-template-ids:2093370026 67698689 67698691 67698693 67698689 67698691 67698693 67698689 67698691 67698693;} @list l0:level1 {mso-level-number-format:bullet; mso-level-text:; mso-level-tab-stop:none; mso-level-number-position:left; text-indent:-.25in; font-family:Symbol;} @list l0:level2 {mso-level-number-format:bullet; mso-level-text:o; mso-level-tab-stop:none; mso-level-number-position:left; text-indent:-.25in; font-family:”Courier New”;} @list l1 {mso-list-id:2054427240; mso-list-type:hybrid; mso-list-template-ids:-1389858690 67698689 67698691 67698693 67698689 67698691 67698693 67698689 67698691 67698693;} @list l1:level1 {mso-level-number-format:bullet; mso-level-text:; mso-level-tab-stop:none; mso-level-number-position:left; text-indent:-.25in; font-family:Symbol;} @list l1:level2 {mso-level-number-format:bullet; mso-level-text:o; mso-level-tab-stop:none; mso-level-number-position:left; text-indent:-.25in; font-family:”Courier New”;} ol {margin-bottom:0in;} ul {margin-bottom:0in;} –>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:”Table Normal”;
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-priority:99;
mso-style-qformat:yes;
mso-style-parent:”";
mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin-top:0in;
mso-para-margin-right:0in;
mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt;
mso-para-margin-left:0in;
line-height:115%;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:11.0pt;
font-family:”Calibri”,”sans-serif”;
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;}

Prometheus

· Created man, from clay

· They were miserable on earth, cold and ignorant

· Prometheus brought them fire

o Gave them knowledge

o Was punished to suffer eternally for this insatiable thirst for dangerous knowledge

· Pandora’s box

o She, too, had to learn what was in the box

o This knowledge led to the eternal punishment of mankind

Frankenstein

· Created a creature, from body parts

· Thirsted for knowledge only reserved for the gods

· Was punished for violating the natural order

o Forced to suffer, and brought other suffering on mankind

Mary Shelley titled her darkly Romantic novel “Frankenstein” or “The Modern Prometheus”. Before the reader has even read the first word of the novel, Shelley is already acknowledging the parallel between the Greek myth, thus incorporating other works into her text; this is a theme that runs throughout the novel. However, perhaps the most striking example of intertextual inclusion is the Prometheus comparsion, given that from the very beginning the reader is alerted to the general theme of the text: the desperate pursuit of knowledge, and the suffering the proceeds from such dark discoveries.

Creature and Creator: Victim or Villian?

<!– /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:”Cambria Math”; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:1; mso-generic-font-family:roman; mso-font-format:other; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:0 0 0 0 0 0;} @font-face {font-family:Calibri; panose-1:2 15 5 2 2 2 4 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:swiss; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-1610611985 1073750139 0 0 159 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:”"; margin-top:0in; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:10.0pt; margin-left:0in; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:”Calibri”,”sans-serif”; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:”Times New Roman”; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:”Times New Roman”; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} .MsoPapDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; margin-bottom:10.0pt; line-height:115%;} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.0in 1.0in 1.0in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} –>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:”Table Normal”;
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-priority:99;
mso-style-qformat:yes;
mso-style-parent:”";
mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin-top:0in;
mso-para-margin-right:0in;
mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt;
mso-para-margin-left:0in;
line-height:115%;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:11.0pt;
font-family:”Calibri”,”sans-serif”;
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:”Times New Roman”;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;}

In the next chapters, Frankenstein takes a dark turn. No longer is Victor describing an idyllic childhood, filled with loving relatives and devoid of any trouble. With the success of his creation, Victor felt the opposite of his expectations; rather than feeling proud of having broken both a scientific and natural barrier, he is seized by horror and flees, leaving his monster to escape. A series of tragic events occur in rapid succession, involving the deaths of family and friends. Victor discovers his monster is the cause of it all, who will only be placated if Victor creates a female monster. Though he initially complies with the creature’s ultimatum, Victor finds he cannot do it, and thus is promised full vengeance and misery at the hands of his own creation.

I find myself veering between who is the greater victim, and who is more culpable for the tragic events described in these chapters. Victor, naturally, holds some blame. When the monster opens his dull yellow eyes, Frankenstein, seized by horror and “Unable to endure the aspect of the being I had created … I rushed out of the room” (61). Frankenstein consciously forsakes his personal creation in a manner so cold and so callous that the glacial death he encounters in his hunt for the monster seems justified. Because he deliberately fled his responsibility, on some level I feel Frankenstein deserves his tragic end, which compensates for his immoral actions. He disowned his creation to the sensations of the world, as the monster later describes to him, “I felt cold also, and half-frightened as it were instinctively, finding myself so desolate… I was a poor, helpless, miserable wretch; I knew, and could distinguish, nothing; but, feeling pain invade me on all sides, I sat down and wept” (96). Clearly, all the creature desired was affection and humanity, and Victor, the one person who could have provided it, did not, thus causing the monster to view humans with malice and evil intent, given that those feelings were all he had ever received from humans.

However, the monster is not entirely victimized. I find myself wondering if he was maybe just a little inherently malicious, or if his environment made him entirely so. To me, it seems like he constantly resorted to violence, even instinctively, and on some occasions was simply looking for a justifiable reason to kill. From the very beginning, he did not seem to value life, perhaps because his own was so cruelly forsaken by Victor. The monster declares to Victor “…revenge remains- revenge, henceforth dearer than light or food!” (146). Here, he seems to feel untroubled at promising destruction and death, and I find it hard to sympathize with one who could so easily kill. I also feel angered and irritated when the monster abuses his own power and says to Victor, “Slave, I have reasoned with you, but you have proved yourself unworthy of my condescension” (146). What makes the monster such a superior specie that human beings are his slaves? I, too, would find it hard to comply with a request so rudely and violently put, and thus feel a dislike for the monster myself. Ultimately, I find it tragic that these two beings, both creature and creator, become bent on destroying each other.

Do we have natural instincts that tell us to fight and kill, or is that entirely determined by our environment?

The Genesis of a Dream

<!– /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:”Cambria Math”; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:roman; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-1610611985 1107304683 0 0 159 0;} @font-face {font-family:Calibri; panose-1:2 15 5 2 2 2 4 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:swiss; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-1610611985 1073750139 0 0 159 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:”"; margin-top:0in; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:10.0pt; margin-left:0in; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:”Calibri”,”sans-serif”; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:”Times New Roman”; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:”Times New Roman”; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} .MsoPapDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; margin-bottom:10.0pt; line-height:115%;} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.0in 1.0in 1.0in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} –>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:”Table Normal”;
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-priority:99;
mso-style-qformat:yes;
mso-style-parent:”";
mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin-top:0in;
mso-para-margin-right:0in;
mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt;
mso-para-margin-left:0in;
line-height:115%;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:11.0pt;
font-family:”Calibri”,”sans-serif”;
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:”Times New Roman”;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;}

I had to put something. The empty space stared up at me, a challenge. But what did I want to be? A daunting question, for a six year old. Yet, while making personal scrapbooks in girl scouts, a page was reserved for us to write our career ambition. Finally, I picked up my pencil, its long torso extending far above my hand, and wrote A-U-T-H-O-R. Author. At the age of six, I had declared myself. It is a dream I have been trying to fulfill ever since.

This was an easy choice. Reading and writing were, to me, as natural and involuntary as the act of breathing, or my heartbeat. My mother sometimes likes to point out that whenever we went to family functions, soccer practice, or even just a quick jaunt to the store, I would always bring two books with me to read in the car. “In case I finished one, I would need another.” Clearly, I have always had this need for books; my sentiments here reveal that almost panic I would feel, the stranded loss, if I were, heaven forbid, without a book. Even to this day, I always store a book in my car, in case of emergencies or boredom.

How did it all begin, then? This obsession, this passion, for the written word enclosed by two sheets of cardboard and paper? In retrospect, I can trace it back to one event. In kindergarten, I had a crush on a boy. That’s often how such things start. You have an interest in someone, but instead find an interest for something else. Anyway, in kindergarten, we had stations we could visit during playtime. Coloring station, the playground, and everyone’s favorite, The Teepee, a giant cloth structure that consumed an entire corner of the classroom. Not surprisingly, given our age, the reading station was the least popular.

One day, however, this boy that I like asked if I wanted to play at the reading station. The main allure, for him, was the stuffed animal of Simba, from the Disney movie The Lion King. Of course, being no fool, I said yes. But while he settled onto the comfortable bean bag chair with Simba, I stared around at all the books surrounding me, stacked like the ribbons of the rainbow on the child-sized wooden shelves. I came for the boy, but discovered another passion that has far surpassed anything else.

As a society, we place significance on “firsts,” given that it marks the beginning, an initiation of sorts, into some act, habit, or possession. The first book I ever read, then, was “The Foot Book,” by Dr. Seuss. It was a catalyst. Following this first of many was The American Girl Doll Series. My mother would read to my sisters and myself from this series every night. I remember that we were not allowed to peek ahead at the pictures, beautiful lifelike painted images, actually, that appeared every ten pages or so. One day, I snuck a look at “Felicity Saves the Day,” and flipped to the picture where one of the characters had become stranded in the woods and severely cut their leg. The vivid expressions of horror and pain, the blood-stained bandage, the foliage enclosing the entire tableau, all impressed me, struck me with some deep emotion. So that is what all those words meant. Words could make pictures; that was what I wanted to do.

As I matured, I found more and more series that created images, scenes, pictures in my imagination. During pre-adolescence, I read nearly every book in the Dear America and Royal Diary series, as well as the Redwall fantasy books. I can proudly attest to the fact that I read the first Harry Potter book a full year before Potter-mania struck the rest of my peers; when people began to talk about it, I began to feel excited, feeling a connection with everyone else. “You read it, too?” One thing I hated, though: when people would ask me what book I was reading. My book was my own private, intimate pursuit; something intended for my eyes only. A book, with all its rich depth, was something that could not only be explained by its title and cover; you had to read it, imagine it, live vicariously through it yourself, before you could understand exactly what book I was reading. When pressed, I would simply hold up the book for people to see for themselves; there was no way I, a mere mortal, could possibly explain it.

To understand the meaning, the significance, of books to me, personally, you must understand a little about me, personally. I changed schools twice; rezoning forced me to switched elementary schools, and an actual move required me to attend a different middle school from my original one. It was difficult, then, for me to form permanent friendships, given that by the time I was finally settled into my school, everyone else had been friends with each other for years. But books, ahh. They never asked me questions, never required anything of me. Books were my constant. Locations and people changed, but my books were always there.

I grew up on a farm, and my intellectual passions seemed incongruous to the physical labor of my environment. Books were the abstract, something not entirely present on a farm, where the concrete was the most demanding focus. It might have been a little odd, to have a girl in this rural place who reveled in the poetry of Shakespeare’s language and adored the dark symbolism of the Bronte sisters, but there it was. All my reading endowed in myself a veritable plethora of knowledge. When asked where I had heard or learned my random fact or vocabulary term, I would simply reply, “I read it in a book somewhere.” Thus, books were a source of knowledge, of awe, of repute, of imagination, and in turn imparted those admirable qualities to me. Reading, more than anything, has prepared me for both the collegiate and intellectual life.

I knew I had the raw passion and skill for reading and writing. My eight grade honors English class, however, ultimately impacted me than any one event and inspired me to pursue English and creative writing as my career. I was fortunate to have a truly wonderful teacher who possessed, in my mind, a nearly omniscient understanding of language, and who brought humor and passion to the study of it. And, of course, eighth grade was the year I read Les Miserables.

In this novel, Jean Valjean nobly strives to reestablish himself in society despite its omnipotent judgment and unmitigated condemnation for his crimes, but as he is a former convict people immediately assume Jean Valjean is a man inclined to malicious tendencies and regard him with wary disdain.

My only argument to this is to invoke the words of other characters.

“This man is an angel!”

“He’s a s-saint!”

Despite his dubious past, Jean Valjean significantly impacted the lives of everyone he came into contact with because of his profound comprehension of humanity. I was awestruck by the message of this transcendent novel, in which every aspect of human nature was illuminated, especially humanity’s instinct to judge.

Society refused to give Jean Valjean a second chance; he was justly labeled a convict, and unjustly labeled a convict eternally. The belief that a corrupt person is incapable of change continues to permeate society. Jean Valjean, however, represents the epitome of an individual’s ability to transform themselves.

Because of Les Miserables, I decided to no longer judge, but to listen; I did not want to condemn, but to understand. I realized that all people are good people; the only crime is that sometimes people make terrible choices. People are not inherently evil; they are simply the victims of their own human weaknesses. This does not excuse crime, perhaps, but it does allow us to understand the nature of humanity. I decided we were all people, connected by a common fate.

Quite simply, there is unlimited power in the often revolutionary written word. Thus, I will forever assert the conviction that books will hold a significant standing in society. Indeed, I quote the immortal last words of Victor Hugo in making this assertion: “so long as ignorance and misery remain on earth, there should be a need for books such as this.” Indeed, books serve the purpose of alerting society to broad social problems, and to discover new aspects of human nature, so that we may better understand ourselves and thus solve the problems. Books reveal the more sordid aspects of humanity, and pose a warning against the repetition of our tragic mistakes. Masterpieces, such as Les Miserables, often stem from discontent or concern in regards to social actions. Clearly, so long as there shall be social fallacies, so shall there be books.

Brainstorming

It’s strange to think about my writing and reading habits, and my own personal definition of such habits. Reading and writing, to me, are as ingrained, natural, and involuntary as breathing. In this paper, I will certainly explain the impact of reading Les Miserables; how this book really inspired me to pursue English as a career. Furthermore, Les Miserables truly changed the paradigm of my thinking, and affected how I viewed the world and people. Some earlier memories I think I should include in this first paper are how, when I was in girl scouts, we were making a scrapbook and how to include what we wanted to be when we grew up; I put author. I just find it so interesting that even at such a young age, I realized the influence of books. Throughout my childhood, I read all the time, and always carried at least two books with me wherever I went. Some of the books I read as a child were the Dear America and Royal Diary books, as well as novels from the Redwall series and Harry Potter series. Before I could read, even, my mother would read to us from the American Girl Doll series. As I grew older, I shifted into the classics, making a reading list for myself over the summer and reveling in books such as Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights, The Heart is a Lonely Hunter, Their Eyes Were Watching God, and so on. I, personally, do not believe the importance of writing will ever die out, and will assert this in my paper, using the aforementioned experiences to prove what reading means to me, and how I would define it in today’s technologically dominated society.

Mary Shelley’s Modesty

(Hear) The audience is not immediately presented with the full horror of the creature; rather, they are tantalized with a glimpse of a mysterious creature, through the eyes of a seafaring scientist. When Victor Frankenstein is rescued form an icy death, he promises to explain the origins of the figure, but first presents background information on himself. He describes a happy, idyllic childhood under the guidance of loving parents and with amiable playmates. He further identifies areas where he went wrong, and which led to his dark deed, such as his love for archaic scientists. Frankenstein’s brain child was developed while he was away at school, and he obsessively tries to reanimate a creature from dead bodies.

(Notice) While I find the story of Frankenstein interesting, I also read it my junior year of high school; however, by rereading, I am able to identify themes and occurrences that went unnoticed the first time through. For example, I particularly find the role of women in this novel to be contrary to what both Mary Shelley and her mother, Mary Wollstonecraft, stood for. In Frankenstein, women seem to be the worshipped idols of men; for example, Frankenstein asserts that “Every thing was made to yield to her wishes and her convenience” (42) in regards to his father’s treatment of his mother. In one sense, women are presented as powerful, to hold such sway over men. However, this is only granted if they fulfill the molds deemed suitable for women; his mother Caroline constantly nurses the sick, his childhood playmate and teenage betrothed Elizabeth assumes the position of comforting, gentle teacher. Furthermore, Elizabeth  was presented to Frankenstein as a gift, given to him by his mother. “I have a pretty present for my Victor” (44), and Frankenstein similarly regarded that “she was to be mine only” (44). Thus, women are reduced to the prized possessions of men, gifts with no say in their ownership. This surprised me, knowing Shelley’s context. However, given her own insecure and illicit marriage, her rebellion against society, I thought it almost seemed as though Shelley is describing the ideal woman, one who is taken care of, perhaps because she never had that security and felt the alienation of a rebel. Perhaps, in this way, she can fulfill a latent desire she had to simply assume the role of a woman, rather than that of a mistress, feminist, and non-conformist.

(Wonder) Had I not known that Mary Shelley was the author of this book, would I have thought that a man or woman had written it?

Hello world!

Welcome to WordPress.com. This is your first post. Edit or delete it and start blogging!