Frankenstein, written by Mary Shelley was my choice for my summer reading. This novel was filled with a cornucopia of progressive symbolism and irony, which was way ahead of its time. While the beginning of the story was a bit dull and redundant, the middle and end of the story was fascinating. It was clear that the true character of the creature had an emotional depth that his creator had not expected. Ironically, his beauty lay within his ugliness…an ugliness that was spawn from outsiders fear and loathing of his monstrous ways.
I could not help but think that Dr. Frankenstein thought of himself to be an ego hungry God-Like scientist. He had this obsession with creating a beautiful being from limbs of dead people sewed on with a manic vision of making the ultimate being. Unfortunately his laborious attempts came to a halt when he breathed life in his now very alive monster.
Like an unfit father, Dr. Frankenstein runs away from his newly created child. Rather than teach and guide his creation, he cowers and leaves him to fend for himself. The beautiful creature that he had intended to create instead had shriveled lips and watery eyes, not humanlike at all. One may speculate that anything made from insanity will turn out to be ugly.
Like an abandoned child, the monster developed emotions and feelings based on fear and rejection. The more the monster sensed the apprehension of humans, the more ugly he became. He learned to live a life full of fright, hatred, and disapproval. The terror he inflicted on others was due to his betrayal from all of those who came into contact with him. I found myself feeling sorry for him, which in turn made me despise Dr. Frankenstein. His complete dispose of his creation was directly proportionate with the violence the monster inflicted on others and was also responsible for Justine’s death.
Towards the end of the novel I noticed that there was a theme of illness that was portrayed in several instances. I could not help but think that for Dr. Frankenstein, his illness seemed to be an escape from the ruthless realities of his life. Was it ironic that when his monster became alive that Frankenstein became ill and could no longer deal with his creation? Was this a way for him to escape from his responsibilities to care for the monster? Did Frankenstein have guilt over the incredible mess he had made? These were all questions that I asked myself while I read.
In the end, the unthinkable happens; the monster not only repeatedly beats his creator, he takes revenge and goes after Frankenstein’s family. I found myself cheering on the monster and not feeling sorry for Frankenstein at all. The revenge was inevitable, it was clear that the monster was seeking to hurt everything and everyone that Frankenstein cared for. He was like an abused child who after years of abuse takes rampage on all of those involved, and who can blame him? During this bittersweet plateau, I conceptually understood the story of Frankenstein.
Neglected by his maker, not a soul loved the monster. Without any other alternative, the monster realizes he has no choice but to payback those who shunned him. Out of spite, he murders people with the intent to hurt his creator. Ironically, on Frankenstein’s deathbed, the monster shows that there is still a trace of humanity left within him. He chooses to kill himself and swears not to inflict any evil again. His purpose for existence has passed away and there was no more reason to go on living and be plagued by torment from others ever again.
