I read Frankenstein over the weekend, the 1818 text, and first and foremost I must note that “blasted as thou wert” will be part of my lexicon forevermore, and I adore Mary Shelley’s constant use of the word wretched, one of my favorite descriptors – oh my god, everyone and everything is wretched and I love it.
I went down a bit of a rabbit hole trying to make sense of the differences between and reasons behind the two different versions, the original in 1818 and the revised version in 1831. One of the big differences I saw mentioned is that Viktor Frankenstein in the original is given more free will and in the revised version he is at the whims of evil forces. It’s interesting because I thought about free will a lot as I read the original, and it seemed to me like Frankenstein didn’t have any. There were so many points where I was just completely baffled by his actions, like whyyyyy dude, why on earth would that be the decision you’d make in this situation?? He seemed so helpless, compelled to actions that repulsed and terrified him, unable to stop himself or make any healthy conscious decision. But that might just be my own thoughts about free will coming into play and the fact that these days I don’t really put much stock into the concept of conscious choice. I’m in my sentient dandelion seed era.
Frankenstein reminded me of my oldest brother at times with his self-absorbed misery, his self-isolation, and his unwillingness to take accountability in any form but self-pity. I’ve been estranged from my oldest brother for five years. It doesn’t feel good, but it feels mostly necessary. Thinking about him is really painful, because I still love him, and I feel compassion for him despite the abuse that led to the estrangement. He’s not a villain delighting in his malice, though I think he sometimes wishes that were him. Instead, he is the victim of his own actions, projected onto everyone around him. All the violent, horrific things Frankenstein did to create the monster changed him, but he was able to just channel all of that into his creation once it was loose in the world. It’s easier to externalize our shadow than to integrate, innit? I thought so much of A Wizard of Earthsea while reading Frankenstein too, the way that Frankenstein’s monster chased him through the world and then vice versa much like Ged and his shadow. The story of embracing the most hideous, feared parts of ourselves in order to come to peace is a story I’ll never tire of. It’s one I wish my oldest brother could finish telling, but he’s still in the chase.
I think about how desire for and belief in control also seem rooted in/with fear and avoidance of death. Frankenstein describes death early on as “the most irreparable evil” and talks about decay as the “corruption of the human body.” Dramatic! But very much an imperial view that we carry with deeply in the US. Our fixation on longevity and obsession with youth aren’t just about a survival drive, they are results of an estrangement from death and decay born of misunderstanding and resentment. I love to imagine a world where we think of death wholly differently. It’s hard to imagine, though, because we are in such a state of fright and despair about it. Death has been so often traumatic, too, so I get it. But in another world, what if we loved death rather than viewed it as a villain? What if we were in kinship with death and decay? Would we love life better? Would we love each other and ourselves better?
There’s also so much to say about Mary Shelley and her place in a feminist history, and I definitely thought a lot about how much I loved my women’s studies courses, how none of that is taught in K-12 (unless you have a cool teacher), and how a focus on science and math without the context of history (besides the whitewashed, patriarchal, militarized one) and storytelling robs us of the empathy and compassion and context we need to make better decisions, how that has impacted the way technology and society have progressed.
And there you have my disorganized and disjointed thoughts on a book that has been written about for 200 years lol. Life is getting me lately, and I’m so tired! Allergy season is upon me and the fatigue and brain fog are real. But blasted as thou wert, wretched as I am, I had the blessed energy to read this book I’ve been curious about for so long, and it was a truly delightful experience. Highly recommend!
Bonus Tremors since it’s been a while: I started listening to Tanukichan and her beautiful, grungey, shoe-gazey jams over the weekend. She has a new album out, Gizmo, and an album from 2018 called Sundays, and both are super-duper yummy.
I was thinking reading this (and your writing in general lately) what courage it takes to access your thoughts like this, in a format that you can share with the world and how I think that vulnerability is such a special part of your writing. You have such a gracefulness of weaving deeper aspects of your life into the everyday it’s just wonderful. Surely it’s a thing that writers have to approach at some point, writing about things they otherwise may not share, but I really value the courage and thoughtfulness and giving of that vulnerability and I think it makes us readers of your work better people ♡︎