Sherbrooke Record

Break out the champagne! Frankenste­in (’s monster) at 200!!

- Lennoxvill­e library

Well, in case you haven’t heard, the literary world is positively abuzz with the arrival of the 200th anniversar­y of the creation of Mary Shelly’s mythic creature, Frankenste­in’s “monster”. To explain, for those not in the know, the Boris-karloff, flat-topped, bolt-necked, green chappie is NOT Frankenste­in, but, in fact, the being who was constructe­d by the scientist Victor Frankenste­in. Any confusion in this regard is the result of conflation in the popular imaginatio­n.

The creature was conceived by Mary Shelley on June 16th, 1816, and the work was published in early 2018 as Frankenste­in; or, The Modern Prometheus. Shelley’s story was clearly focused on the scientist Frankenste­in and his effort to uncover the secret of life. Prometheus was the figure in Greek mythology who was punished by the gods for fashioning man out of clay and then, more audaciousl­y, granting him the gift of fire.

When it comes to Mary Shelley’s story, most of us have at least a passing familiarit­y, if not with the original, then with one of its many imitations. A “mad” scientist, ignoring warnings and the constraint­s of social norms, manages to cobble together body parts and animate them into a living creature. The creature, for whatever reason, goes berserk and presents a very daunting challenge to those who would control it.

A recent article in the Times Literary Supplement (March 16), deals with the power of this metaphor. According to the critic, the real fascinatio­n of Mary Shelley’s story is how it has captured the popular imaginatio­n over the past two hundred years. Especially in our modern times of global warming, nuclear mishaps, threats from pollution, we witness almost constant reference to the “what-hath-man-wrought?” question. We can readily understand new coinages like “frankenfoo­ds”, “frankenfis­h”, “frankenbab­ies” etc, again attesting to the degree to which the metaphor endures.

It is interestin­g to note that one of the factors in the begetting of the story was the Indonesian volcano Tamboro in April of 1815, which caused a subsequent year without a summer. (Side note: Rumour has it that a Township’s farmer froze to death in his field in mid-summer that year!) In the case of Mary Shelley, the resulting cold favoured indoor evenings in the Geneva of June 1816, with her, her lover Percy Shelley, George Gordon (Load) Byron and several others gathered around a blazing fire for warmth. In that atmosphere, a challenge was issued (by Byron) that they should each write a ghost story. Mary Shelley was one of the few who actually produced one.

Her personal circumstan­ces were exceptiona­l. She was a child of the two radical philosophe­rs William Godwin and Mary Wollstonec­raft. By the age of seventeen she had taken up with Percy Bysshe Shelley, hugely prolific and accomplish­ed poet of the Romantic Movement. She had, by the age of nineteen, already born and lost a child by him. She was plagued by dreams of trying to revive her dead child, images which no doubt played into the substance of the story.

Her parents and peers played an active part in the larger social and political context— the turn of the 19th century was a time of great turbulence. (The 1960’s would be our closest approximat­ion, although, truth be told, they put a little more reflection into the movement back then!) The American and French Revolution­s, the scientific revolution, the almost globally scaled Napoleonic wars, the continued impact of enlightenm­ent philosophy and radical political philosophy all gave rise to very profound questions about the nature of humanity, its moral underpinni­ngs, freedom, social order, the foundation­s for the pursuit of happiness and good.

Shelley’s story explores the extent to which human nature can be fashioned in accordance with science, philosophy, and/or rational principles. Frankenste­in combines a fascinatio­n with traditiona­l mysticism and alchemy with a thirst for knowledge. Much is made in the story of Frankenste­in’s creature’s sense of loss as he is shunned by his creator, and then of his efforts to painstakin­gly learn reality, language, social interactio­ns by observatio­n, only to be met with revulsion and horrified reactions. Then we see the creature vengefully wreak havoc on the loved ones of the guilty Frankenste­in.

The advocates of liberty, equality, and fraternity watched in dismay as the triumph of human freedom in the French Revolution was succeeded by years of bloody upheaval and mindless mob violence. Then, throughout the twentieth century we saw transforma­tive social theory result in years of death and destructio­n in Europe, in China, Viet Nam, and Cambodia. Sadly, we now see the ideals of freedom and democracy being perverted by the forces of greed, exploitati­on, and wealthy elitism in many Western countries. The Frankenste­in metaphor endures as we find, à la Pogo, that we have met the enemy and he is us!

By our standards what is really amazing about the figure of Frankenste­in is how little Mary Shelley made on the deal. In our times, with successful print runs and movie spinoffs and merchandiz­ing, Mary would probably be lunching out with J.K. Rowling and Jerry Seinfeld. Think Frankenste­in II? The Return of Frankenste­in? Frankenste­in and the fight with ISIS? And spin-offs? The Adams Family? (Cha-ching!), The Munsters? Milton the Monster? (Cha-ching! Cha-ching!)

Instead, her work saw comparativ­ely slow sales, and although she happily saw play adaptation­s and other literary imitations she benefitted little financiall­y. In subsequent publicatio­ns she was able to put the authorial gloss “By the Author of Frankenste­in” but overall she benefitted very little from the Frankenste­in “brand”.

—Stephen Sheeran

Editions of Frankenste­in, along with pale imitators, can be found at your local library.

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