Saturday, 19 October 2019 08:14 pm
Book Review: Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus
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deckardcanineI'm never sure about reading a book whose gist is so famous that I'm not going to bother with a summary. How much could I hope to get out of it? Well, if nothing else, I could take pride in being among the few who knew exactly how much of the legend traced back to the beginning. I was pretty sure the James Whale movies played fast and loose with the source material, and I'd rather not watch the unpopular other screen adaptations.
By "the beginning," I mean the 1818 text. Most publishers choose the 1831 version, which has among its advantages a more developed protagonist, a quicker and probably stronger opening, and no marriage between first cousins. But Marilyn Butler, who provided the introduction and notes for this Oxford publication, asserts that too many changes were driven by narrow interpretation and that Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley was strong-armed into them. The original has more to say politically if not philosophically, with more biting wit.
I'll take Butler's word for that last part. Either the humor is so dark that it completely fails to tickle me, or you have to be better acquainted with the zeitgeist to get it. If the latter, I have to say it's aged worse than Gulliver's Travels. My only hints at a comedy were a handful of improbable moments, particularly coincidences and the hulking brute's curiously successful stealth. Even the Whale movies struck me marginally funnier.
Indeed, it's one of the most depressing novels I've ever read. The main narrator, Victor Frankenstein (who doesn't have a doctorate), is almost constantly miserable once his creation comes to life. By the time of narration, he's given up even on revenge and looks forward only to his own death, tho he does have some strangely encouraging statements for his companions.
That said, my sympathy for Victor is limited by his shallowness. Dude takes one look at the open eyes and assumes the worst, wanting nothing more to do with the project. I feel more pity for the creature (who is not actually named Adam herein; he merely compares himself to the biblical Adam, as well as to Lucifer), because he has still fewer remotely happy moments and only a blind man ever shows him civility. Even after he murders innocents to get at his creator, I don't see him as a "monster." His desires are quite basic and human, he hopes for peace if not redemption, and he proves quite intelligent despite unconventional education.
On that note, I hadn't expected so many literary references in this book. Given its age, I'm less surprised not to know most of them. There are even a few lines of Percy Bysshe Shelley. Way to butter up your husband. Anyway, many pages in this edition have asterisks signaling to look near the back for notes, often not for clarity so much as enlightenment on influence.
Probably any 200-year-old British writing is bound to be slightly difficult to read. Some turns of phrase are stilted. Some grammar and punctuation looks off, as in the full title above. Paragraphs are typically long. The early and late chapters employ a dated epistolary format. At some points, we get narration within narration within narration.
What really makes me doubt the benefit of my reading is that I had already read a junior version in fourth grade. It includes all the important plot details, I could still remember them, and I found it no less engaging back in the day. I'll grant that the original does a better job of explaining how the creature gets so good at language and knows so much about his creator, how a framed character gets convicted, and what the ups and downs of introducing a created bride would be. I suppose the book's length also helps us care more about the characters. But it's no scarier for that, and I personally preferred when it felt less sad.
Perhaps the best thing about my choice is the assurance that MWS didn't set out to write a treatise against scientific progress, which remains all too common in science fiction. The story is more an exploration of the complexities of emotion and ethics that conceivably could ensue under the circumstances. In that light, the turns of events border on inevitability. Sure, I wouldn't make all the same errors as Victor and other characters, but this way is extra dramatic. Totally fitting for an adolescent author, when you think about it.
My next read is Word Spy: The Word Lover's Guide to Modern Culture by Paul McFedries. That's bound not to depress me.
By "the beginning," I mean the 1818 text. Most publishers choose the 1831 version, which has among its advantages a more developed protagonist, a quicker and probably stronger opening, and no marriage between first cousins. But Marilyn Butler, who provided the introduction and notes for this Oxford publication, asserts that too many changes were driven by narrow interpretation and that Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley was strong-armed into them. The original has more to say politically if not philosophically, with more biting wit.
I'll take Butler's word for that last part. Either the humor is so dark that it completely fails to tickle me, or you have to be better acquainted with the zeitgeist to get it. If the latter, I have to say it's aged worse than Gulliver's Travels. My only hints at a comedy were a handful of improbable moments, particularly coincidences and the hulking brute's curiously successful stealth. Even the Whale movies struck me marginally funnier.
Indeed, it's one of the most depressing novels I've ever read. The main narrator, Victor Frankenstein (who doesn't have a doctorate), is almost constantly miserable once his creation comes to life. By the time of narration, he's given up even on revenge and looks forward only to his own death, tho he does have some strangely encouraging statements for his companions.
That said, my sympathy for Victor is limited by his shallowness. Dude takes one look at the open eyes and assumes the worst, wanting nothing more to do with the project. I feel more pity for the creature (who is not actually named Adam herein; he merely compares himself to the biblical Adam, as well as to Lucifer), because he has still fewer remotely happy moments and only a blind man ever shows him civility. Even after he murders innocents to get at his creator, I don't see him as a "monster." His desires are quite basic and human, he hopes for peace if not redemption, and he proves quite intelligent despite unconventional education.
On that note, I hadn't expected so many literary references in this book. Given its age, I'm less surprised not to know most of them. There are even a few lines of Percy Bysshe Shelley. Way to butter up your husband. Anyway, many pages in this edition have asterisks signaling to look near the back for notes, often not for clarity so much as enlightenment on influence.
Probably any 200-year-old British writing is bound to be slightly difficult to read. Some turns of phrase are stilted. Some grammar and punctuation looks off, as in the full title above. Paragraphs are typically long. The early and late chapters employ a dated epistolary format. At some points, we get narration within narration within narration.
What really makes me doubt the benefit of my reading is that I had already read a junior version in fourth grade. It includes all the important plot details, I could still remember them, and I found it no less engaging back in the day. I'll grant that the original does a better job of explaining how the creature gets so good at language and knows so much about his creator, how a framed character gets convicted, and what the ups and downs of introducing a created bride would be. I suppose the book's length also helps us care more about the characters. But it's no scarier for that, and I personally preferred when it felt less sad.
Perhaps the best thing about my choice is the assurance that MWS didn't set out to write a treatise against scientific progress, which remains all too common in science fiction. The story is more an exploration of the complexities of emotion and ethics that conceivably could ensue under the circumstances. In that light, the turns of events border on inevitability. Sure, I wouldn't make all the same errors as Victor and other characters, but this way is extra dramatic. Totally fitting for an adolescent author, when you think about it.
My next read is Word Spy: The Word Lover's Guide to Modern Culture by Paul McFedries. That's bound not to depress me.