Tag Archive: TheMonster

Mahealani LaRosa

My knowledge of the Frankenstein myth relied solely on Halloween and Scooby Doo movies before I read the novel. Growing up, the word Frankenstein put the image of a square-headed, green-skinned, illiterate, sewn-up creature in my head. What I never knew and never could have imagined was that there were so many layers to the story, so many complex characters and emotions. I always thought Frankenstein was the monster, not the scientist. That really shocked me. What really shocked me, however, was the rawness and intensity that poured out of every character. I never expected this simple, childhood story of a mad scientist bringing a huge green being to life to be so intricate.

I actually saw a lot of myself in every one of the characters. The longing, the fear, the exclusion. Right from the start, the novel resonated with me in ways I never thought it would. Although what I am going to write about is not exactly about the monster itself, it is about Frankenstein the novel, which is what this post is supposed to be all about.

In the first letter, Walton says “I bitterly feel the want of a friend. I have no one near me…” (30). Starting in a new place, as I and many of my other classmates are, feels a lot like this. I would never expect to find myself represented so clearly in a book about a monster. But that is the thing… The novel is not really about the monster. Every interaction the reader has with the creature is fleeting and brief. I was surprised to find much more of Walton and Frankenstein’s life, and even the French family living in the cottages life, represented in the novel. Walton expresses this craving for friendship right from the start, and he seems to be rewarded with Frankenstein. What is funny is that Frankenstein also expresses this craving for a friend, and a fear of making new ones, by saying “In the university, whither I was going, I must form my own friends, and be my own protector” (50). Once again, I share these sentiments. And once again, the scientist seems to be rewarded with Walton. They refer to one another as brothers, and in the short time they have together, they form a strong familial-like bond.

What I noticed is that the creature does not. There are many more instances in the novel where the monster yearns for friendship and connection. However, he is never rewarded. While watching the cottage-dwellers, he says “I longed to join them” (101). Aware of his absence of companionship, he asks himself “But where are my friends and relations? (110). He questions his own existence many times, thinking “Who was I? What was I? Whence did I come? What was my destination?” (115). All he longs for is a friend, much like the captain and the scientist, but he never gets one. He never gets anything.

And this is not what I was expecting. I thought the monster was exactly that. A monster. A killer. A mindless, numb murderer. I was never expecting to find someone so similar to myself in the creature. It is shocking, comparing myself to this being. He is a killer, but he has complex ideas and intimate thoughts, and in the long run, is just a lonely guy. And I get that. I wish him good luck, and I wish more people would read this novel and learn . the true Frankenstein story. I know everyone can find a bit of themselves in this story.

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Manipulated Frankenstein.jpg

As a young child, I used to envision Frankenstein as the monster. The monster to be feared and stay away from if ever seen. A creation for pure destruction simply for its mere size and complexion. Nowadays the monster or most consumers of the 21st century know him as Frankenstein, is manipulated as propaganda. Mutilated to be categorized as a product. Many are naive to learn its origins from Mary Shelley’s novel, Frankenstein, or the Modern Prometheus. And as the Bicentennial for its creation is near, The Monster is slowly and progressively becoming more human rather than the creator himself, Victor Frankenstein.

Such name was never mentioned as the myth still lingers through many individuals that are still unaware of its true creations. Mary Shelley’s novel is where the truth comes to be and where we begin to progress in our ideology of The Monster. Sympathizing we are as t such creation is not to be feared off. Because its intentions are to never hurt but rather to be accepted. Neglected by society and by his own creator, his murderous rage is simply engulfed by pure revenge towards the ones he felt for. And as The Monster is left abandoned, we know that it’s not a threat. It, or as now we should mention, he never was.

The novel compels the truth behind The Monster, his emotions, his awareness, and eagerness to feel love is what we, the readers now have learned through Mary Shelley’s novel. Although we are a numerous few, there’s still the vast majority that has yet to know the truth about The Monster. Frankly, The Monster was never the monster, to begin with. His image being portrayed through ridiculed merchandise for simple consumer satisfaction should be fixated to fully understand the novel’s true intentions. Frankenstein is the monster, it’s just that his true name is Victor.


– Stephen Muñoz