Frankenstein Mary Shelly, Apuntes de Literatura inglesa

¡Descarga Frankenstein Mary Shelly y más Apuntes en PDF de Literatura inglesa solo en Docsity! Themes Consciousness and Existence A book about creating life has a lot to say (or, at least ask) about life and consciousness. Like, "Are we really just born this way?" And, "How much can we blame our parents for, honestly?" Frankenstein does wonder how our reading habits form our minds and attitudes. Shelley suggests that all men, women, and monsters are born essentially the same, and we're made different by our experiences. Frankenstein suggests that our experiences are only part of our personalities; we're all born with essential parts of our consciousness formed. Science Frankenstein isn't a knee-jerk anti-science screed—but it's also not a wide- eyed, "Gee, isn't science nifty" kind of thing. Instead, it's a warning about the abuse and misuse of science by ignorant or irresponsible individuals. Frankenstein's problem? No one ever bothered to teach him ethics or responsibility or common sense. Frankenstein might not be anti-science as much as pro-humanities. Victor considers his creation to be an act of science, but he thinks the rest of society would call it an act of evil. In fact, Frankenstein argues that there is no difference between the two. Frankenstein thinks science is neutral; it's the scientists we have to watch out for. Beauty Beauty may only be skin deep, but, as Shmoop's campus gym once advertised, no one can see your brain from twenty feet away. Sure, Frankenstein seems to criticize the idea that beauty indicates inner virtue. The monster may be ugly, but deep down he's just a lonely guy who wants somebody to love. At the same time, all the nicest people in the book (Elizabeth, Safie, Felix, and Agatha) are also beautiful—and the monster may start out good, but he sure doesn't waste time becoming a murderer. Are we supposed to agree that inner beauty is all that matters? Or would Shelley just call that simplistic thinking? In Frankenstein, there's no difference between inner and outer beauty: what's outside always ends up reflecting what's inside. Shelley suggests that appearances can indicate someone's inner self, but only because society inevitably reacts to beautiful people in a way that makes them able to be good—and to ugly people in a way that makes them turn out evil. Revenge Vengeance is sweet. Revenge is a dish best served cold. The best revenge is a life well lived. People have a lot of things to say about revenge. In fact, it's a human emotion as strong and passionate as any other, like, say, love. Or friendship. In Frankenstein, revenge has an emotional resonance wçay stronger than Victor's half-hearted protests that he really does love Elizabeth, honestly. (Think about it: on his wedding night, who does he spend most of his time thinking about? Uh-huh.) The monster may think he has no connection to the world, but revenge gives him a continued link to Victor. It may be distorted, but it's still a way of forming human bonds. Family Victor, the monster, and the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air have one thing in common: Parents just don't understand. If only Victor's dad had taken the time to explain why Agrippa wasn't worth reading instead of just muttering about the trash kids these days read, maybe the whole tragedy would have been averted. Or so he says. Frankenstein might seem to suggest that having a good family is the solution to all of society's problems (like murderous monsters), but we're not so sure. The one nice family we see ends up exiled in a cottage in the middle of the woods. It's not much of an advertisement for family togetherness. Victor's mother's death is the impetus for his creating the monster. Because such an event was beyond his control, Victor is morally exonerated (released) from responsibility for the tragedy that follows. Walton's need for a friend mirrors the need the monster has for a mate. Gender doesn't matter in Frankenstein's relationships: the point is closeness and intimacy, not sex. Exploration Walton doesn't exactly start his first letter by writing, "The North Pole … the Final Frontier. These are the voyages of the S.S. Prometheus," but he might as well. Like Victor, Walton is definitely trying to boldly go where no man has gone before. Only, Victor's ends in tragedy, and Walton's ends in defeat. Frankenstein might not be completely anti-science.. Walton's desire for geographic exploration has the same potential for catastrophic results as Victor's studies in alchemy and science. Shelley's warning, therefore, extends far further than to purely scientific fields. Language and communication You may be able to remember your name in the desert, but the monster can't— because he doesn't have a name. Without a name—a label—there's really no way to make sense of him. Is he a hero? A villain? Does it matter what people call him, or what he calls himself? Even when he learns language, he doesn't get a chance to open his mouth before people run away screaming. Acquiring language not only gives the monster a sense of his own humanity, but it forces him to come to terms with his alienation from society as well. Like the monster, language can be good and bad. The monster's namelessness is the reason that he is alienated, more than his ugliness. Compassion and forgiveness Most of the characters in Frankenstein seem to lack compassion entirely. The monster alone shows compassion and kindness, attributes that are soon ruined by the world around him. Frankenstein further questions just how Like Adam, I was apparently united by no link to any other being in existence; but his state was far different from mine in every other respect. He had come forth from the hands of God a perfect creature, happy and prosperous, guarded by the especial care of his Creator; he was allowed to converse with and acquire knowledge from beings of a superior nature, but I was wretched, helpless, and alone. Many times I considered Satan as the fitter emblem of my condition, for often, like him, when I viewed the bliss of my protectors, the bitter gall of envy rose within me. (15.7) What's the point of confusing the business out of us? These complex Christian allusions steer us away from thinking that we can wrap up our analysis in a neat little package. And what's cool about that is that the form (the complicated text, which doesn't let us neatly analyze anything) matches up with the content (Shelley's little lecture about how we shouldn't put people/monsters into boxes). Adam, Eden, Other Biblical creatures The monster is compared to Adam and the creation of man. OK, sure, this would mean Victor is also paralleled with the creator, possibly God, and as some claim, maybe even a Christ-figure given the self-sacrifice of his death. But then Shelley screws with us and compares the monster to the fallen angel, too (Satan). What’s the point of confusing the hell out of us? This gets back to that duality business. The complex role of Christian allusions in the text steer the reader away from any one meaning, and remind us that, if we want to wrap up our analysis in a neat little package, we’d better think twice. These allusions establish the duality of both characters; no one is strictly good, and no one is strictly evil. Instead, these characters show a capacity for both good and evil, which is sort of the human condition. Exploration The entire story of exploration for knowledge, as symbolized by Captain Walton's quest for the "perpetual splendor" of the North Pole (Letter 1.2), becomes a cautionary tale and allegory about the dangers of boundless science. His physical journey and Frankenstein's intellectual quest become a warning against the scientific revolution and its potential for destroying humanity. Or maybe not. You could definitely argue that the problem isn't the journey itself; it's how we get there, and who's leading us. After all, the monster is harmless until Victor's shameless neglect drives him to murder. And the journey to the North Pole may not have happened this time; but who's to say it might not? Walton shows that he's learned his lesson by turning back—but we don't know that he isn't going to set out again. The sublime The sublime natural world, embraced by Romanticism (late eighteenth century to mid-nineteenth century) as a source of unrestrained emotional experience for the individual, initially offers characters the possibility of spiritual renewal. Mired in depression and remorse after the deaths of William and Justine, for which he feels responsible, Victor heads to the mountains to lift his spirits. Likewise, after a hellish winter of cold and abandonment, the monster feels his heart lighten as spring arrives. The influence of nature on mood is evident throughout the novel, but for Victor, the natural world’s power to console him wanes when he realizes that the monster will haunt him no matter where he goes. By the end, as Victor chases the monster obsessively, nature, in the form of the Arctic desert, functions simply as the symbolic backdrop for his primal struggle against the monster. The spark Picture this: a lab full of bubbling beakers, somewhere in a creepy haunted mansion on a deserted moor. There's a thunderstorm, of course, and a giant body lying on a slab. Lightning flashes and—boom! The body lying on the slab rises abruptly and looks in anger at its creator. Yeah, not so much. This is how Frankenstein describes it: It was on a dreary night of November that I beheld the accomplishment of my toils. With an anxiety that almost amounted to agony, I collected the instruments of life around me, that I might infuse a spark of being into the lifeless thing that lay at my feet. It was already one in the morning; the rain pattered dismally against the panes, and my candle was nearly burnt out, when, by the glimmer of the half-extinguished light, I saw the dull yellow eye of the creature open; it breathed hard, and a convulsive motion agitated its limbs. (5.1) Most of the paraphernalia that we associate with Frankenstein and his monster is a creation of the 1931 movie—but that doesn't mean this scene isn't important. Today, we mostly read that phrase "spark of being" as electricity, because, as it turns out, electricity really is what makes the human heart run. In 1771, a guy named Luigi Galvani discovered that electricity could make a frog's legs twitch. Creepy? Yep. Also, great fuel for a long-standing debate: are we just bodies, or are we something more? Is the spark of being that makes us run really just electricity, or is it something non-material and non-scientific, like a soul? Can a "spark" really give life back to the dead—or does true life require something beyond the material? Setting Captain Walton's ship in the North Pole; Europe Although the frame story is exclusively set aboard Captain Walton's ship in the frozen waters of the Arctic, the events of the story happen all over Europe, from Geneva to the Alps to France, England, and Scotland, as well as the university at Ingolstadt. But for all that we travel over half the globe, Frankenstein isn't a travel diary. The most important setting (we think) is still the frozen waters of the Arctic, for two reasons: (1) Being stuck in ice sounds like a pretty hellish experience. We've never experienced it personally, but we can guess. So hellish, in fact, that it sounds particularly reminiscent of Dante's description of the ninth and innermost circle of Hell in The Inferno. (We feel justified in bringing up Dante, because Shelley has Victor tell us that the monster was "a thing such as even Dante could not have conceived" (5.4).) Our point is, Dante tells us that the ninth circle of hell is reserved for those who have committed betrayal. All the sinners are stuck in frozen water, up to their shoulders or necks or eyes or whatever depending on just how bad their betrayal was. Satan's there, of course, stuck in the middle of the lake and pouting. The worst kind of betrayal, Dante tells us, is betrayal against your God. And isn't trying to penetrate the secrets of nature—like Victor and Walton do—a kind of betrayal of God? (2) Guess who else gets stuck in ice? The poor sailors of The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, one of the landmark poems of Coleridge and Wordsworth's 1798 Lyrical Ballads, the book of poetry that basically inaugurated the Romantic movement in England and that Shelley had most definitely read. It's not clear why the sailors get stuck in ice, but it is clear that the mariner of the title commits a major no-no by killing an albatross and ends up getting all his comrades killed. No one can agree exactly how to interpret the poem, but it's pretty clear that they're punished for some crime against nature. So: being stuck in ice is a pretty good sign that Walton is doing something wrong. He might be depressed about turning around to go home, but we can't help breathing a sigh of relief—and we're pretty sure his sister will, too. Who is the narrator, can she or he read minds, and, more importantly, can we trust her or him? First Person (central narrators); Frame story Confused? We don't blame you. Frankenstein is made up of: Walton's letters, which include Victor's story, which includes the monster's story, which includes Felix's story (told in third person) What the point of having all these different stories? Here's one idea: Science is all about trying to figure out how the world works. Victor himself tells us that when he says he wants to "penetrate the secrets of nature" (2.7). So, you could say that the scientist is trying to adopt the perspective of God, who's the ultimate third-person omniscient narrator: he knows everything about everyone. But in Frankenstein, we never get that perspective. All we get are a bunch of people's stories, and we have to piece together the truth from that. Do we believe the monster's own story about himself? Or do we believe what Victor says about him: that he's a heartless, cruel, ugly monster? You could say that Shelley makes us like scientists, having to piece together imperfect information—and you could also say that, by giving us so many different stories, she shows us it's impossible to ever really know. (1) Gothic Fiction. Dark and stormy night? Check. Horrid monster? Check. Attempt to excite sublime feelings like terror and awe? Check and check. Sounds pretty gothic to us. by a young man, Victor Frankenstein, whom his ship has rescued from the polar ice. As a young university student at Ingolstadt, in Bavaria, Frankenstein is determined to find the secret of life. He studies constantly, ignoring his family back in Geneva, Switzerland. He steals body parts from charnel houses and medical laboratories, then uses the power of electricity to create a living being. He immediately knows he has erred: His creature is ghastly. It leaves Frankensteins quarters, but not his life. Frankenstein next sees the creature back in Geneva, where he has returned following the death of his young brother William. Although a servant girl, Justine, is accused of causing Williams death, Frankenstein sees the creature lurking near the place of the murder and knows he is the killer. Frankensteins anguish is intensified when innocent Justine is executed for the murder. In his agony, Frankenstein leaves home to wander in the mountains. The creature confronts him and tells him his own story. After leaving Ingolstadt, the creature wandered throughout the countryside. He discovered quickly that he was frightening and repugnant to humans and took to traveling at night and hiding during the day. The creature learned to speak and to read during a long stay in a hovel attached to a poor farm family’s hut. During his stay, he performed many kindnesses for the family and felt sympathy for their poverty. He befriended the old father, who was blind. As soon as other family members returned and saw him, they fled. In anger, the creature set their farm on fire. He made his way to Geneva, saving a small child from drowning along the way. Every time he tried to perform an act of kindness, however, he caused a reaction of horror. On the mountaintop, the creature begs Frankenstein to make him a mate so he need not be lonely. Then, he says, he will leave humankind alone and live with his mate in seclusion. If not, he says, he will be with Frankenstein on his wedding night. Frankenstein promises to make him a mate but questions his wisdom. He travels to England with his friend William Clerval, then goes alone to an isolated spot in Scotland to carry out his promise. He cannot finish the job. He abandons it and prepares to return home. The creature, infuriated by Frankensteins unwillingness to keep a promise, kills Clerval, then returns to Geneva to kill Frankensteins bride, his adopted sister Elizabeth, on their wedding night. The tragedy and the guilt are too much to bear. Frankenstein resolves to pursue the monster until one of them is dead. He travels by dogsled across the snowy expanses of Russia toward the North Pole. He is picked up by Robert Waltons ship during his pursuit and dies on the ship after telling Walton his story. The creature appears and tells Walton of his remorse for his deeds, then sets off into the cold to build his own funeral pyre. Form and Content Frankenstein is, in many ways, a tale of mixed identities. Thus it seems somehow fitting that tradition has always linked the name of Frankenstein with a monstrous being rather than with the mad scientist who created him. Yet in Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley’s novel, the original version of this popular story, Frankenstein is that scientist, and only on a symbolic level does the reader confuse him with his horrible creation. This is not the only pair of linked identities in the novel. The monster, as he is called here, serves as a kind of alter ego to each of the novel’s main characters—and even, finally, to its author. Shelley seems to sympathize more fully with the monster than with any other character. Shelley structures the story like a Russian nesting doll: It is really a story within a story within a story. Robert Walton opens the tale, writing letters home to his sister as he embarks on a fantastic voyage of Arctic exploration. He hungers for a friend, a like-minded companion. Then, in his fourth letter, he describes how he has found a man out wandering on the ice, weak from exposure and malnourishment, and taken him into his ship. He sees in him the potential friend for whom he has longed. The man is Victor Frankenstein, and Walton lets him speak. Victor recounts the story of his life, starting with his privileged childhood in Geneva, Switzerland. From an early age, he was obsessed with creating life. All science was, to him, the body of knowledge that gave human beings godlike powers. The intensity with which he pursued his studies made it nearly impossible for him to maintain closeness to his family and friends. His dear friend Henry Clerval did not see the danger in his studies. Elizabeth, his sister by informal adoption and eventually his betrothed, saw that his work was driving him to poor health and estranging him from his family, but she was powerless to bring him home. After years of nearly frenzied study, Victor was ready. Robbing body parts from graves, he constructed a monstrous form. Finally, one stormy October night, he brought it to life. Yet when he saw his creature reaching out toward him, trying to smile, Victor rushed from the building, unable to take on the creature as his own charge. By the time he returned to his rooms the next day, accompanied by Clerval, the monster was gone. Victor became feverish, and Clerval nursed him back to health over some months. When Victor returned home to his family and to Elizabeth, he was greeted by news that brought his feelings of dread into painful focus: His younger brother William had been found murdered. Authorities had arrested Justine Moritz, a beloved and trusted young servant, on circumstantial evidence. Victor, walking mournfully on Mont Blanc one stormy night, saw the monster’s form suddenly illuminated by a flash of lightning on a far peak, and he understood: The monster had killed his brother. Later, in agony, he watched as Justine was convicted and executed for the crime. Another stormy night in the mountains, the monster approached Victor closely enough for them to converse and begged him to hear his story. Victor agreed. At this point, the monster becomes the narrator, as the reader hears how he told his own, very different life story. He told of eking out a miserable existence, of terrifying everyone who saw him, and of learning to hide, watch, and listen. He told of finding a kind of shed attached to a hut occupied by a family; from them, listening through the cracks in the wall, he learned to speak and to read. He told of reading John Milton’s Paradise Lost and other books, and of coming to understand the intense pain of his solitude. Finally, he asked Victor to create a partner for him and promised to leave him alone forever if he would. Victor agreed to create a mate for the monster but found himself unable to follow through with it. For the rest of the novel, he tells how he and the monster engaged in a deadly cat-and-mouse game. First the monster killed Clerval. Then Victor believed that the monster was hunting him but learned on his wedding night that he was to suffer rather than die: The monster killed his beloved Elizabeth on the bridal bed. Victor then pursued him to the Arctic wasteland in which Walton has found him. As Victor finishes his tale, he warns Walton to learn from his example—and then he dies. At that moment, the monster enters, mourns the loss of his creator, and announces his own imminent suicide by self-immolation. He then vanishes into the darkness. Context The revival of scholarly interest in Frankenstein has directly paralleled the emergence and development of feminist literary scholarship. On the one hand, Shelley’s novel has perhaps been an obvious subject of study for those who investigate the separate tradition of literature by women. On the other hand, Frankenstein anticipated and provided many of the concerns that feminist scholars would have. It expresses the rage and pain felt by those who are left out, who are not allowed a full place in their own culture. Mary Shelley tells the reader that she felt some pressure to be a writer: Both her parents, Mary Wollstonecraft and William Godwin, were celebrated writers, and it was expected that she would continue the tradition. Yet her introduction is full of apologies for her work, and one sees everywhere the marks of difficulties she had being taken seriously. Not the least of these is the preface that was written by Percy Shelley in her voice, in which he acknowledges that the “humble novelist” needs to explain why she might aspire to the heights of great poetry. Frankenstein represents, symbolically, both some of the pressures on a woman writer and her critique of the culture that has created her but sees her as its “monster.” The female characters in Shelley’s novel do not offer any kind of model response to the failures enacted by the males. Only in the novel’s symbolic vocabulary, in its acts of violence and its sympathies for the most hideous of creatures, do readers find a program for change. This work by a woman in a “feminine” genre—the gothic novel—is complex enough to provide generations of readers and scholars with puzzles to unravel. On the whole, it is not Mary Shelley’s prose that readers have admired; in any case, scholars are not sure how much of it is hers and how much Percy Shelley’s, since he went over it and The creature, feared and hated by everyone, recognizes that loving parenting will bring out his benevolent side and make him good. On the inside, Frankenstein's creation desires to be a caring member of society. It is simply his outward shell that is hideous. He only becomes a murderer because everyone has rejected him: the love he tried to show was met with fear, hatred, and disgust. Nevertheless, Victor is unable to get past the creature's outer appearance and, now, the havoc the creature has brought to Victor's family through acting out his rage and grief in murder. Victor is never able to transcend his repulsion toward his "child." He is never able, ironically, to replicate the loving and caring behavior he most appreciated from his own parents. Shelley is critiquing playing God, but she is also suggesting that having played God, Victor is responsible for the outcome of his actions and should have treated his creation as a decent parent would. What are some negative qualities that Frankenstein's creation possesses? In all honesty, the creation possesses the same negative qualities that human beings have. He can get incredibly angry and resentful, even destructive, when he's been treated poorly. For example, when his overture of friendship has been rejected by the DeLaceys and he learns that they are moving far away because of their fear of him, he burns their house down. Further, after he's been shot by the hunter for saving the little girl from drowning, he attempts to kidnap William Frankenstein, Victor's youngest brother, in order to educate the child and raise the child as his friend. He does desperately want a companion, but it is selfish to kidnap a person in an attempt to create one. Moreover, the creature then kills William when the child calls him mean names, and he rejoices in his ability to create pain and fear in his creator. The happiness he feels when he thinks of the pain he can cause another person is certainly a negative quality as well. How does Victor's passion drive him to negative things? Victor's passion for knowledge and for immortality (in the form of his reputation in the scientific community) leads to the destruction of his family and his entire life. In a quest for the "philosopher's stone," or an answer to his questions about the fine line between life and death, Victor comes up with a project in which he builds a human out of an assemblage of body parts from dead people. He brings his creation to life and is immediately horrified. He was only concerned about the scientific developments and how his name would be remembered forever for his accomplishments; he did not think about the real consequences of his actions. Victor's creation results in tragedy after tragedy in Victor's life. For one, he loses a number of family members as a result: his brother is killed by the creature, his wife is killed by the creature on their wedding night, his best friend is also presumably murdered by the creature, and finally, his father basically dies of stress and grief after all of the other tragedies. Victor's obsession with the creature dominates his life and leads eventually to his own death. While he's building the creature, he is isolated and withdrawn, and after, he is ashamed and hiding from the consequences of his actions. At the end of the novel, Victor is wasting away in the Arctic, basically in a chase to the death between himself and the creature. The negative effects of Victor's passion are clearly depicted in the novel and result in complete tragedy for Victor and those around him. How is Victor driven by fear that changes his attitude towards science and humanity? In Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, the protagonist, Victor Frankenstein, abandons his creature partly because of fear. He abandons it not just out of revulsion at the creature he has brought to life, but also out of fear at facing the consequences of his actions. Later, after the creature confronts him, Victor agrees to make a mate for the creature out of fear for his life. But then it is also fear of the two creatures procreating that leads him to destroy the mate. Victor's experiences teach him to be more cautious and respectful of science and nature, but it is also the grief of losing his family alongside guilt over his treatment of the creature that teaches him the value of human relationships. The creature inspires both fear and pity in its creator, making Victor a wiser person even as his world crumbles around him. Explore the theme of isolation in Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. Isolation is one of the most important themes of Frankenstein. Walton isolates himself from all companionship when he embarks upon his expedition to the frozen wastes of the north. Victor Frankenstein is also isolated, both emotionally and intellectually. He's separated from the ordinary run of humanity by his scientific genius; there's really no one who can understand what's going on in that over-worked super-brain of his. He deliberately chooses to further isolate himself from his fellow man by the experiments he conducts. Frankenstein is even isolated from his fellow scientists by his creation of the Monster. And this condition looks set to continue indefinitely, for the brave new world he envisages involves his being all alone at the top. He wants to create a race of beings who will worship him like a god. And being treated like a god is guaranteed to keep you apart from the rest of humanity. Frankenstein passes on his sense of isolation to the Monster he creates. But the Monster doesn't want to be alone; he wants Victor to make him a brand new mate. When Frankenstein develops moral qualms over the issue, the Monster threatens to make life hard for his creator. Eventually, Victor relents and takes off to the remote Orkney Islands to create the second creature. Once again, he understands the necessity of isolation; such a diabolical experiment must be conducted well away from prying eyes. It's notable that when the Monster first confronts Victor, it's against the splendidly isolated backdrop of the Swiss Alps. This majestic mountain range provides the perfect setting for this epic encounter of two isolated souls. Both Frankenstein and his Monster are like mountains themselves, forces of nature towering over the world beneath. Yet there is a difference. The Monster, unlike his creator, has not chosen to be isolated and alone. On the contrary, as we've already seen, he wants a mate. He yearns for the kind of togetherness that Victor has enjoyed with Elizabeth but which he now rejects in pursuit of scientific glory. With Frankenstein, however, isolation has never just been a necessity, but a conscious choice; it was always part of the plan. Make comparisons between Shelley's Gothic novel Frankenstein, Milton's epic poem Paradise Lost, published in 1667, and Coleridge's allegorical poem The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, published in 1797. Paradise Lost was an important text for the Romantic poets. Satan in that work held a particular fascination, and people like Mary Shelley's husband, Percy Bysshe Shelley, praised the "energy and magnificence" of him. Mary Shelley took a darker view. Her Frankenstein shares traits with Satan, but they do not lead him to magnificence. Like Satan, he is deeply ambitious and overreaches in his aspirations. Both Frankenstein and Satan want to be like God, not simply serve God. Frankenstein feels driven to create human life, just as God did. He works day and night on this project but never considers the ethical implications of creating a human life. The creature he creates leads him not to glory and grandeur but to downfall and death. Likewise, Satan's rebellion against God does not succeed, nor does his attempt to sever humankind and God. It is Satan who suffers for exalting himself, just as Frankenstein does. Both might share this sentiment of Satan's: “Me miserable!" The Ancient Mariner also violates God's laws and God's sense of humanity when he kills the albatross that lead his ship to safety. He too is overly careless of God's creation and is punished for it by having to wander the earth as life-in- death. What are some aspects of morality in Frankenstein? The key moral quandary in Mary Shelley's Frankenstein is one that was much debated at the time of writing; that is, how far can, or should, man play God? In this novel, Shelley presents an issue that had begun to arise during the Enlightenment period; the novel is concerned with how far the advancement of science might result in people forgetting their place in the world, overreaching and attempting to set themselves up almost as gods. Frankenstein's excessive hubris leads to his downfall, after he creates another person without having the personal capacity to look after or properly govern his creation. The moral quandary here, then, is: should we put science to as many uses as we can, without consideration for whether or not these uses are moral? Is it moral to create another being, and then leave that being to survive on its own, feeling dejected because it knows it has no soul? The concept of the soul, too, is interrogated through the creature Frankenstein makes. Frankenstein does not account for the creature's needing companionship or the fact that the being is alive and aware of its own shortcomings. Frankenstein has taken upon himself the task of creating this he had envisioned, but a creature with its own needs, desires, motivations and angers. "I WILL BE WITH YOU ON YOUR WEDDING NIGHT," the Creature famously says, demonstrating a strength of will and a capacity for (we may feel, justified) revenge which Frankenstein had not anticipated. Still, Frankenstein makes no attempt to reason with the Creature or really to help it; he wants to be a god over it, and indeed destroys the bride he had created for it in the feeling that the Creature does not deserve it. Frankenstein is sure that Frankenstein is right about everything. We can see this clearly in the language Frankenstein uses in speaking to Walton of his endeavors. He knows he is reaching the end of his life, but the "evils" that have led him to it he describes as "great and unparalleled misfortunes" which he has "suffered." They are "misfortunes," and Frankenstein tells Walton that "nothing can alter my destiny." As far as Frankenstein is concerned, we can see from this passive language that he does not, even now, believe himself to have been the agent or instrument of his own misfortunes. He has convinced himself that "destiny," rather than his own bad decisions, have led him to where he is now, at the end of the world and awaiting the Creature's arrival. Surely there could be no better evidence of how completely Frankenstein has failed to learn anything from what he has done, suffering under this enormous sense of self-removal from his own actions and unable to take any responsibility for what has happened. Frankenstein believes he is "destined" to be here: this, more than anything else, seems to indicate that if he could live his life again, he does not believe he could change anything to alter how he ends up. At its heart, Mary Shelley's Frankenstein is interested in the question of nature vs. nurture: are people blank slates that are formed by experiences and environment, or are we born with certain.. At its heart, Mary Shelley's Frankenstein is interested in the question of nature vs. nurture: are people blank slates that are formed by experiences and environment, or are we born with certain traits—like being evil? What does the book seem to suggest? How do you know? Frankenstein suggests that our experiences and environment determine what we become. The monster is the best example of this, of course, because he goes from being a rather innocent being to a murderer. From his very first instances of knowing movement and action, he merely goes up to Victor and smiles. . . . I beheld the wretch—the miserable monster whom I had created. He held up the curtain of the bed; and his eyes, if eyes they may be called, were fixed on me. His jaws opened, and he muttered some inarticulate sounds, while a grin wrinkled his cheeks. The monster obviously has no ill intentions toward Victor. As well, later on in the novel, the monster actively tries to get to know people and to somehow be what they might want him to be. People scatter and scream at just the sight of the monster. The monster only ever wanted to have companions and to escape loneliness. He goes to great lengths to get people to like him, even attempting a convoluted plan to educate himself and then befriend a blind man. The entire plan fails and that starts the monster on his path to being a murderer. Even so, he continued to do good things for others despite having been scorned once more in his attempt to befriend a blind man. I rushed from my hiding-place; and, with extreme labour from the force of the current, saved her, and dragged her to shore. She was senseless; and I endeavoured by every means in my power to restore animation, when I was suddenly interrupted by the approach of a rustic, who was probably the person from whom she had playfully fled. On seeing me, he darted towards me, and tearing the girl from my arms, hastened towards the deeper parts of the wood. I followed speedily, I hardly knew why; but when the man saw me draw near, he aimed a gun, which he carried, at my body, and fired. I sunk to the ground, and my injurer, with increased swiftness, escaped into the wood. However, after this incident of being injured in return for saving a young girl, his heart hardened and he, "vowed eternal hatred and vengeance to all mankind." He never wanted to hate humankind and had always done everything he could to gain the friendship of humans. The monster was never driven to commit acts of violence or revenge before he had been so harshly scared, emotionally and physically, that his internal moral compass broke. Even after murdering Victor's younger brother, William, the monster does not want to outright kill Victor. The monster simply asks Victor to make him a companion so he will never be lonely and can happily live in the wilderness away from human settlements. The monster never wanted to kill others but was led to when faced with the hatred of everyone, including his creator, and the prospect of being alone forever.