Tag Archive: Victor


The Monster

Evil eyes

“NOOO! I WILL KILL HIM! WHERE’S MY GUN! GIVE ME MY GUN!” Frankenstein walked to the massive windows of the penthouse. Eyes watering he continually whispered, “He has to die today, he really has to die today.” The pungent smell of lifeless flesh and blood permeated the air. The cold bride of the biochemical scientist lay sprawled across the heart shaped bed. Just a few hours ago he was strolling down the soft sands of Waikiki with his stunning bride. ‘Till death do us apart was not supposed to happen as early as it did. The $100,000 wedding was very posh but Victor didn’t seem very happy. He just seemed on edge to the point that when his best-man tapped his shoulder he almost soiled his pants. Up until now he had been looking over his shoulder but that stopped for a moment. He buried his head into the carcass of his slaughtered wife. That moment quickly faded however and instead of waiting for his pursuer, he became the predator. The fourteen member bridal party stared in disbelief. With bloodshot eyes Victor proclaimed, “I will travel the world until I slit his throat.” Two groomsmen walked over to restrain and calm Victor while the maid-of-honor violently vomited at the sight of her close friend’s frigid body.

The crime scene was swarming with investigators. Outside the resort, helicopter blades were dicing the air and came to halt on the top of the resort. A disheveled Victor paced the crime scene trying to speed up the investigation. He knew who had done it. “It was the monster, I saw him,” he continually repeated. A psychologist and an investigator started to question everyone. The sobs of the bridesmaids made them incoherent so groomsmen were paired up with each maid to help calm them down during the questionings. The investigation kept going for months. In that time, Victor had left and was scouring the island searching for the “monster”. He was convinced that the investigators were looking in the wrong place for the diabolical creature. Everyone had become exhausted but the maid of honor raised her concerns for the helpers at the crime scene. That did not change very much for them however because they were necessary to the advancing of the investigation.

On an uncharacteristically cold day a light bulb went off in the mind of Detective Carolina Walton. She was exploring the Hawaiian Islands when she came across Victor who was still frantically searching for his monster. “Victor!” she said excitedly, “I think I have cracked the case my friend! First though, can you tell me a little bit more about your monster?” Walton led a paranoid Frankenstein to the beach and started listening to the Biochemist’s story. Victor started off talking about his family and his beloved mother who died early in his life. He did not fail to mention all the different people the monster had managed to kill off. Including the poor girl who was blamed for his first murder the evil creature had ended the lives of four people close to Victor. The detective listened pensively and finally, after Frankenstein’s tale, she revealed her findings. “Victor, you killed those people,” she said quietly. And with those words, Victor stood up slowly, stepped into the ocean and unloaded his gun’s bullets into his head.
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                                    The Monster: A Critical Reading by Jon LaName

To be honest, it is difficult to know where to start. Jason Antwi takes the last few pages of Frankenstein, rips them up, and discards it, and then connects it all together. It is best to jump right in to the meaning of this remaking of this portion of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. In his writing, Antwi focuses on the scene where the monster kills Elizabeth and carries the story out to the moment where Frankenstein dies on Walton’s ship. Let us start with the $100,000 wedding. The price has been placed in this story for a reason. While at first it does not make sense, one piece of obvious and extractable information is that Victor would be considered rich. From the Marxist perspective, Frankenstein is a member of the bourgeoisie. The bourgeoisie and proletariat show up again in a portion of the story that makes does not seem to fit the flow. Antwi mentions the hard workers who are suffering working the crime scene but they do not have a voice of their own. This shows a strong Marxist view of the suppression of the proletariat by the bourgeoisie. At the end of this odd portion, Antwi mentions how necessary these workers are to the system or in this case, the investigation. This is where the author shows his personal support for the working class.

Rich

Speaking of the proletariat, it is interesting that the person who speaks on their behalf is the bride’s maid who is arguably the second most important female in a wedding. She brings up the concern of the overworked employees and is almost instantaneously shut down. There is also a scene where the women are unable to keep their emotions in check enough to answer questions so the investigative team relies on a group of men to help move things along. This is an interesting play by Antwi to show the male dominated society. It is also good to note however that the person who ends up solving the case is a female version of Walton. In the end, a female is the one who makes the most important contribution to the case. With this move, Antwi is saying that females are just as capable as the males in a male dominated world.

CSI

Finally, it comes as a surprise when Victor is named as the monster. This is the portion of the story where Sigmund Freud would shine. Before we go back to the big reveal, it is good to remember that Frankenstein says his mother dies when he is young. This means that he never was able to properly attach to his mother so the Freudian relationships could never form. The “monster” Frankenstein keeps bringing back up is his repressed self. That is what Carolina Walton realizes. Victor killing himself parallels the original version in the sense that Victor drives himself to death in an attempt to kill the creature. Much like in the original story, Victor in Antwi’s rendition goes to the end of the Earth mentally and kills himself. He tries to take out his repressed nature and targets his brain, ending both his and his “monster’s” life.

The Guilt of Mass Destruction

For the first time in six years, I walked through my father’s front door. It was early, the sun had not yet risen, and everyone evidently still asleep. I sat at the kitchen counter, my head in my hands, waiting for my father to enter, and for Elizabeth, good neighbor and dear friend that she is, to walk through the front door to share his morning coffee. What would I tell them? Pictures of my mother hung on the walls, and a new shrine to Will was in the corner of the living room, which I could see from where I sat. What would I, could I, say? Dread settled in my stomach.

When my other brother, Ernest, walked into the kitchen, his head was down, his shoulders stooped. He jumped when he looked up and saw me watching him, but quickly recovered and hugged me tighter than I ever remember. “We were so proud,” he said, “when Will got a job at the Pentagon. Father was over the moon! We were so –“ here his voice broke.

“Where are dad and Elizabeth?” I inquired. “Aren’t they usually up by now? I have something I need to tell you all. It’s important.”

“They should be up soon, but you need to be prepared, they’re absolutely beside themselves. They can’t watch the TV without crying every time the terrorists are mentioned. The names of the hijackers were just released.”

I started. “What do you mean? Hijackers? That can’t be true!”

“What else could it be? The passengers who lived all claim that the planes were taken over by foreign men, and though it seemed inconceivable at first, it is the only thing that makes sense,” he ventured, puzzled at my vehement denial.

“No, no, no…that isn’t…that can’t be” I mumbled, brow furrowed, as I paced. “It has to be the planes.” Here, my father stepped into the room. Like Ernest, he wore a shocked expression, but quickly stilled my pacing with an embrace as I continued to mumble. My father inquired as to what was the matter with me, and my brother, bewildered, replied hesitantly that I just kept saying, “It has to be the planes.” My father touched my arm, thinking my denial of the involvement of terrorists was just grief, and said, “Son, it’s hard on all of us. But the men who caused this are dead. Denying their fault doesn’t help anyone.”

“You don’t understand!” I exclaimed. “No one hijacked those planes!”

The three of them led me to the couch, and thinking to console me, told me that the men who caused our my little brother’s death, along with the deaths of almost 3000 other people, were punished in their own deaths, and that there is nothing our anger can do. Their speech calmed me, for reasons other than what they intended; maybe no one would ever know that I was to blame, that I had engineered planes that would fly themselves, and, weighed down by the responsibility, had sold the technology. Maybe they would never know that my work had killed Will.

A knock sounded at the door, and Elizabeth entered. When she saw me, she threw herself into my arms, exclaiming, “Victor, I’m so glad you’re home! It didn’t feel right that you were grieving for Will on your own. All together, we can console each other, and lessen the weight of our individual grief.”

“But it was the planes,” I breathed, in one last half-hearted attempt to divest the truth from myself, to give it away, but it was too quiet for even her too hear.

Author’s Note

One of the most charged moments in Mary Shelley’s original Frankenstein is when Justine’s life is hanging in the balance. Victor is carrying this guilt, for not only the death of William, but also possibly the death of Justine, and, he comes to see, a potentially endless number of other lives. This guilt of the fallout of our actions on other people is particularly applicable to the 21st century, as everyone is increasingly connected by technology. Now, more than any time in history, the consequences of one person’s actions cannot be isolated to only themselves. I chose to keep the tone of the passage (starting with the last paragraph on page 76, and running to the end of the chapter), as well as the relative plotline, and to change the creation and the fallout action.

Instead of creating a scientific, parodic creature, Victor has created intelligent technology capable of incredible harm. The crime the creature commits, homicide, was one of the worst, if not the worst, crimes a person could commit in the 19th century. Now, terrorism has taken the top spot on the Worst Crimes list, with the terrorism of 9/11 taking the top spot of that list for American citizens. I wanted Victor’s action to have the monumental destruction, the same relative magnitude, in my piece as in the original.

Where the plotline diverges in my piece is in Victor wanting desperately to tell the truth, rather than just prove the innocence of the accused. This is not an explicit purpose of Victor’s in the originally scene, but rather a feeling from the whole novel that Victor is trying to push his responsibility outward from himself.

I wanted this piece to carry the message that we are accountable to the world for our actions, as well as that as humans, we still choose the explanation that seems believable. Even when someone tells what they know to be the truth, if a simpler explanation exists, society will choose the simple, the cut-and-dry. That is a main point in the original passage, and I wanted that to come through in this modern re-telling.

The Creature’s Relationship

Zakharieva in her essay mentions the female creature and the “decision” she has to make between Victor and the Creature. She states, “The bride is not a completely new being, she is a re-creation of the two women to whom Frankenstein is bound through his sense of guilt. The Female Creature is torn between her lover and his evil counterpart – the Monster” (Zakharieva). What is the significance of the bride’s indecision? What does her self destruction mean in terms of the battle between Victor and the Creature?

victor & elizabeth

I haven’t seen Kenneth Branagh’s 1994 film version of Frankenstein, so honestly I’m not too sure what’s going on in that scene up there. I mean, yes, that’s Victor and Elizabeth clearly having a moment. But I wonder, is Elizabeth dead in that picture?

She probably isn’t, but hear me out — the only times Victor shows intense passion for Elizabeth (in Mary Shelley’s 1831 book, at least) is during his particularly vivid dream (which I’ll get to) and after Elizabeth’s dead, when he “rushed towards her, and embraced her with ardour” (168), observing “the deadly languor and coldness of the limbs” (Shelley 168).

Now, that dream. In it, Victor’s walking the streets of Ingolstadt, when suddenly he see Elizabeth “in the bloom of health” (61). He recounts, “Delighted and surprised, I embraced her; but as I imprinted the first kiss on her lips, they became livid with the hue of death, her features appeared to change, and I thought that I held the corpse of my dead mother in my arms” (61).

Sigmund Freud would have a field day with this one. Believing that dreams were fuzzy windows into the unconscious, Freud analyzed dreams to find repressed bestial desires now made into altered, more acceptable forms. According to Freud, “every emotional affect, whatever its quality, is transformed by repression into morbid anxiety” (Freud 429), and if this repressed object recurs and causes anxiety, then it’s considered uncanny. Yup, Victor’s sure sounds like an uncanny dream.

So why this dream now? Why would Victor think of his dead mother now? Well, this happens just after he’s given life — given birth — to his creation. And remember, one of the biggest reasons he decided to do this whole thing was because he thought, “if I could bestow animation upon lifeless matter, I might in process of time (although I now found it impossible) renew life where death had apparently devoted the body to corruption” (Shelley 58).

Because the death of his mother absolutely wrecked him. In fact, Victor calls it “that most irreparable evil” (50). In describing his mother’s nursing of Elizabeth from scarlet fever (which ultimately kills her), he details, “Elizabeth was saved, but the consequences of this imprudence were fatal to her preserver” (49). Imprudence? Ouch. For every tender word he uses to describe Elizabeth, this speaks volumes. Undoubtedly, Victor has not gotten over the death of Caroline Frankenstein, “this best of women” (49). Worse, Caroline straight-up tells Elizabeth (really, the reason she’s dying in the first place) to replace her, as she says, “Elizabeth my love, you must supply my place to my younger children” (49).

And in a way, Elizabeth does. She is the sole madam and caretaker and ultimately wife of the Frankenstein house. But she’s also inadequate. Victor’s affections clearly remain with his dead mother, shown through Elizabeth transforming into Caroline in his dream as well as his obsession with animating dead matter. Because of Victor’s repressed resentment for Elizabeth, she cannot fully replace Caroline as mother and lover.  And most telling of all, Victor, ever the egomaniac, takes on this pursuit on his own, taking the role of mother in forming the creation. Pretty sure that didn’t work out so well either.

The Representability of the Proletariat

I didn’t expect to see extreme class struggle in this novel, but looking at it closely, it now seems hard to miss. According to Warren Montag in his essay “The Workshop of Filthy Creation,” the unrepresentability of the proletariat is what the creature really  represents, not the actual proletariat itself. I agree that the only reason the monster “would no longer be a monster” (395) if the proletariat was present in the novel outside of the creature, but I don’t agree that he does not represent the presence of the proletariat in a significant way. Both the bourgeois and the proletariate are boiled down to one main entity: Victor as the bourgeois, and the creature as the proletariat. While Victor’s and Clerval’s families can all be seen as representing the bourgeois as well, they do so in such a passive manner as to be fairly negligible in the comparison. Victor, on the other hand, aggressively embodies all that is bourgeoisie.

When the creature entreats Victor to create for him a mate, Victor feels first compassion, and “sometimes felt a wish to console him,” but soon his “feelings were altered to those of hatred” (130). These are the same feelings as those of Montag’s “new elites” who found it necessary to utilize the proletariat to overthrow old regimes. At first perhaps sympathetic, they quickly grew to be resentful of the lower class who would block the new elites’ rise to power. The creature, on the other hand, is asking for similar things to the proletariat: “I shall…become linked to the chain of existence and events, from which I am now excluded” (130). Both characters mirror their respective class well, and in this passage at the very least, the creature represents the entire proletariat infused into one being, arguing for equality, acting as almost a spokesperson.

Change in a Person

Without a doubt, Percy Shelley’s poetry influenced Mary Shelley’s writing of Frankenstein. Once you read Percy’s poetry, it seems to be everywhere in Frankenstein. It is not unsurprising to me, though, that such a literary couple had influence over one another’s works; they must have often shared ideas or passages for critique, and with Mary’s wish for Percy’s approval of her writing, it follows easily that she might use his work to her advantage. This is particularly evident in a reading of Percy’s “Mutability” in conjunction with Victor’s description of his return to Geneva in the first paragraph on page 74 of Frankenstein. Mary Shelley uses “Mutability” to focus the passage on Victor, rather than on the place and situation he describes.

In the passage, Mary Shelley has taken “Mutability,” assigned it a character (Victor), and converted it to prose. The poem has a very polar tone: one minute excited, the next morose. Quick changing feelings abound in the use of adjectives: forgotten, dissonant, frail, wandering, fond, free. Mary takes these feelings and transplants them onto Victor in the entire novel, but specifically this passage. As he returns to Geneva, “at first [he] wished to hurry on” but soon “slackened [his] progress” because he “could hardly sustain the multitude of feelings” (74). The subject of the paragraph becomes the idea that everything in a place that should be familiar could be drastically changed in the time Victor has been away. One of the more striking lines in the passage is “How altered every thing might be during that time” (74), “that time” being the six years Victor was gone. Reading “Mutability” in this passage, though, begs the reader to ask the question, is it the place that Victor is worried has changed, or is it himself? The poem is all about the changes and contradictions that exist inside people, not places. The last lines of the poem are “Man’s yesterday may ne’er be like his morrow;/ Nought may endure but Mutability.” “Man’s yesterday” the poem reads, not the place he was yesterday, or where he will be tomorrow. His experience of it is different because, in the end, he is different. As I read the poem again, this time as if Mary had written it, I feel myself sneaking in a few words: “Nought may endure [in man] but Mutability.” Mary takes Percy’s extremely accessible poem and converts it to prose; she allows the ideas of changeability and the difference between a changed place and a changed person to sit with the reader, and ultimately, to lead to new questions about Victor’s experience.

15166280897_09c0d14f77_o

The passage describing Mont Blanc and its surroundings on pages 89-92 seems to be a near-exact translation of Percy Shelley’s poem, “Mont Blanc,” into prose, particularly on page 90 at the beginning of chapter ten. As Victor describes falling ice and avalanches, he speaks of, “the silent working of immutable laws,” and the ice being, “but a plaything in their hands” (90). This goes hand in hand with Percy Shelley’s lines: “Thou has a voice, great Mountain, to repeal / Large codes of fraud and woe” and “Is this the scene / Where the old Earthquake-demon taught her young / Ruin? Were these their toys?” (lines 80-81, 71-73). Victor conveys the same awe as the speaker in the poem. Similarly, “my slumbers, as it were, waited on an ministered to by the assemblance of grand shapes which I had contemplated during the day” echo’s Percy Shelley’s lines: “Some say that gleams of the remoter world / Visit the soul in sleep–that death is slumber / And that its shapes the busy thoughts outnumber / Of those who wake and live” (Frankenstein 91, “Mont Blanc” lines 49-53). Victor dreams of Mont Blanc, and, indeed, his dreams and sleep do seem to offer a death-like state, as they “gathered round [him], and bade [him] be at peace,” evoking the image of a funeral (91). However, one guest of the poem doesn’t appear in Victor’s dream: “the wolf [who] tracks her [the eagle] there” (line 69). This, and other predatory hints in the poem like, “The glaciers creep / Like snakes that watch their prey,” seem to be lost on Victor (line 100-101). Since Victor doesn’t allude to these lines, he doesn’t see the danger of his situation. He doesn’t sense a snake watching him or a wolf tracking him. He doesn’t realize the creature hunts him. When Victor sees the creature, it takes him a moment to realize that the figure he sees is, in fact, the creature.

All I have to say is, Victor, why so dense? “Mont Blanc” suggests nature’s superiority over humans, saying, “Frost and Sun in scorn of mortal power / Have piled: dome, pyramid, and pinnacle” (line 103-104). Victor also alludes to nature’s architecture, as well as continually comparing Mont Blanc to a ruler. The creature, however, “bounds over the crevices in the ice, among which [Victor] had walked with care” (92). The creature moves swiftly and without hesitation through this landscape, without a single trace of reverence or care. This indicates the creature is superior even to nature, and thus, humans. Why does Victor not realize that the creature has him outmatched in every possible way? Why does he think that he can fight the creature and win? I think that, despite his over-drowning melancholy, Victor has what we might call a “creator complex.” To Victor, the hierarchy probably looks like: humans at the bottom, then nature, then the creature, then Victor himself. Because Victor created the creature, he thinks he is superior to the creature. He knows he has power and a say in the creature’s life, but he doesn’t realize that the creature also has power and a say in his. He underestimates the creature, and overestimates himself. Because the prose and poetry are so similar, the differences point out that Victor doesn’t realize he created a being superior to himself, and even to nature itself. This adds insight into why the creature cannot be accepted as animal or human, as of nature or of civilization. His appearance and his abilities make him other-worldly to both.

(Image from: http://www.flickr.com/photos/vd1966/15166280897/in/photolist-p7c9VF-gH2W7x-prVnHq-dajET8-5Ziqun-kfTE9G-gdAwcu-fXuo6E-pWzNdg-cHbDiA-dajEWv-agdkY1-fAzB6u-bzYhvU-34s8Y-5ZnBsG-mLu14-5i8bQy-cyXTWf-fSFGQu-cyjb1A-6oDYGL-hb5LP9-j4NceT-npScAB-dajEQa-j9tEcP-r5kuis-pnMRDp-dajEAX-ocQac2-q2ycL5-mQH9FS-fjztS2-5J7AWM-qtXUiq-e9oPX2-9VN8PB-prVsd7-gXYhSQ-5HY1Hr-nup4wE-nxxZQ1-pRhix9-2mnBNg-iPyKkt-j8jzR-5SMBXh-o7mwq8-6F16QP)

According to Freud, the uncanny encompasses the realm of the unknown, more specifically dealing with humanity’s general trepidation towards the uncovering of certain hidden or concealed things within ourselves, often regarding hidden memories of ours from the past. It is the “revelation of what is private and concealed, of what is hidden” (class notes), confirming the oft-personal nature of the uncanny. What is concealed can even be hidden unintentionally from ourselves: the mind represses certain memories/experiences from the past, so whatever uncovers these experiences, which generally hearken back to our earliest years, represents the uncanny. Such repressed material from our early days, according to Freud, can be reflected through an “uncanny double” (a doppelganger)–its roots springing from our “narcissistic self-love” (class notes) cultivated in our childhood–which is a mental image/projection/persona of ourselves that we form (either intentionally or, more often, unintentionally)–for ourselves in order to define the way we see ourselves. The super-ego is related to this concept as well, projecting “all the things it represses onto this primitive image of the double. Hence the double in later life is experienced as something uncanny because it calls forth all this repressed content” (class notes).

This is what confronts the creature when he looks at a reflection of himself in a pool. He “admired the perfect forms of [the cottagers he had been observing]– their grace, beauty, and delicate complexions: but how was I terrified, when I viewed myself in a transparent pool!” (104). He was at first “unable to believe that it was indeed [him] who was reflected in the mirror,” which is a sign of the uncanny double because this whole time the creature has been yearning for acceptance from the hostile humans around him, and this desire to connect stretches all the way back to its “birth” in Victor Frankenstein’s lab. Victor created the creature in a human image (in Victor’s mind, at least), and of course that did not go as planned, but with the creature’s “eyes… were fixed on [him]” (61). The creature likely saw Victor and saw him, a human and his creator, as the ideal in looks. He associated himself as a human and constantly tried to associate with other humans as well, but he finally confronts his true appearance through the reflection on the pool and sees pure hideousness. He sees himself this way based on his ideal perception of appearance, which he formed way back when he first came alive through Victor and subsequent other humans. This is his now-uncovered “uncanny double,” which was the mental image/projection/persona he created for himself to reflect the way he saw and perceived himself– as a human, like everyone else he saw. This is why he was disgusted by his appearance: because he had a prior, already-crafted self-image of himself that was uprooted by his real, actual self-image in the reflection, uncovering his repressed “uncanny double.” It is also why he still would want others to overlook his physical deformities because at the end of the day, he still wants to be accepted by others, as evidenced by his eventual entry into the cottagers’ house in order to finally gain acceptance from them (which, of course, does not go as planned for him).

Frankenstein’s Rewarding Thematic Depth

From the outset of this class, before I began reading Frankenstein for the first time, my perception of the novel were skewed heavily by modern portrayals of the story as something archaic and camp with little deeper meaning or symbolic qualities. With actual exposure to the novel and with interpretive literary criticism applied in addition, I have found that there are a host of themes, motifs and symbols not are not only directly referenced and observed within the book through close reading, but are also inferred based on an understanding of the historical context.

In my past analyses from the blog posts, I have demonstrated a realization of the sheer literary depth that Frankenstein provides. The fact that a major development within the novel is the development of a human persona with respect to the creature is symbolic of an even broader theme that is concerned with the lack of humanity that society projects towards the downtrodden/lower-class/outcasts. The scene where the creature directly confronts Victor and begs for some understanding towards his own plight was the point where I initially saw the book in a different light. The novel made me switch my perception of Frankenstein and the humans; beforehand, I saw the creature for what it was portrayed to be by pop culture: vicious and soulless. With Victor and all other humans’ total rejection of the creature and lack of much sympathy for its unfortunate state, I came to see the humans as the soulless ones for not even giving the creature a chance.

With the incorporation of broader themes, including literary analysis that referred to historical context, I then saw this implementation of a sense of humanity within the creature as representative of the author’s intent to symbolize the downtrodden/lower-class/outcasts as the creature. The creature represented the unfortunate underclass of society, and the way it is treated in the novel strongly mirrors the way the lower-class was treated in that time period. I felt that it was an unflattering and unfair representation of the lower-class because of just how grotesque it was made to appear through the creature in the novel, as well as the fact that by localizing the lower-class to one creature, its influence in society is diminished significantly. The French Revolution probably had something to do with the marginalization of the lower-class in the novel, as its abject failure in establishing its idealistic ambitions resulted in tyranny and dictatorship. Given that this novel was written two decades after the Revolution’s conclusion, it seems to me that the author was intent on not just portraying the underclass’ downtrodden nature because it was the reality of the time period but also because that is what she believed their role and place in society should be. This kind of textual and thematic depth within the novel took me by complete surprise and made this one of the more personally rewarding readings in a while due to the discovery of such themes, both clear (and emotionally visceral, with respect to the creature’s humanity) and hidden.

In a Marxist interpretation of Frankenstein, the monster is often akin too the lower class, pointing to its abused nature and its ability to overthrow its producer. Montag’s essay “The Workshop of Filthy Creation: A Marxist Reading of Frankenstein” claims that the text deliberately ignores the implications of the toiling lower class and the industrial revolution, rendering the creature a “representation of the unrepresentable”. However, Montag’s argument ignores how the first-person narration of Frankenstein is flawed and can be picked apart by both the reader and the observing character Walton, demonstrating a cynicism of Frankenstein’s viewpoint and, by extension, his ignorance of the industrial revolution and lower class in general.

Montag brings up the “Hear him not” (178) line to indicate that Shelley would rather deny the lower class of a voice or presence. Upon seeing the creature, Walton is at first impressed by the creature’s tender response to Frankenstein’s corpse, but he then remembers the man’s words; tellingly, Frankenstein is mentioned directly in his thought: “I called to mind what Frankenstein had said of his powers and eloquence and persuasion,” (187). Walter’s reaction to the creature is not something naturally developed, but an artificial parroting of Frankenstein’s hateful words. Instead of being gagged by the text, however, the monster interrupts the explorer and begins speaking, not stopping until finished. For all his bluster, Walton is unable to stop listening to, and the reader is unable to deny the opinion of the creature, because it holds just as much legitimacy as Frankenstein’s ever did.

The creature’s narration actually addresses the current reality of Shelley’s day. The creature criticizes Walton’s perspective by comparing his own qualities with Felix the “rustic”, or a person from rural areas (188). Such a term only makes sense if the creature thinks of himself as different from rustic, as urban. Montag claimed that the urban is unnaturally absent from the text, but the creature is able to see it because of his status as a symbol of the proletariat. He is also attuned to the matter of capital. There is no mention of monetary obligations in Victor’s side of the story, but in the monster’s narration, Felix’s companion tells Felix about how he will be required to pay three weeks rent or lose his garden (123). As an embodiment of the those who have to fear such things as debt, the creature understands that such details cannot be excised from life. The use of these more worldly observations demonstrates that Shelley is aware of them and willing to use them in her text. She gives them to the creature instead of Frankenstein because Victor’s perspective is deliberately askew, emphasizing the conflict between the two.

Walton’s narration also indicates a disparity. At the beginning of the novel, he wishes to “satisfy my ardent curiosity with the sight of a part of the world never before visited,” (28). He does not wish to remain in the dark about this class conflict at the center of the Marxist interpretation; rather, he wants to explore this relatively new conflict. This enthusiasm for new territories is combined with his desperate need for a friend or companion. Tellingly, he wants “a man who could sympathize with me,” (31). In other words, Walton wants a person who can tell him what he wants to hear rather than someone who can tell him something distinct. Frankenstein fills that gap with his incomplete narrative and Walter believes him when he encounters the creature, yet the explorer is still rendered silent by the monster’s honesty, demonstrating the superior perspective of Victor’s progeny. A reassuring lie like the one Montag suggests Shelley’s novel to be is let down before truth.

A Marxist interpretation must take into account a story’s context as Montag’s essay did, but in a novel with multiple narrative voices like Frankenstein, it can’t take the viewpoint of one character as the viewpoint of the author. His “unrepresentable” monster is only in Victor’s flawed mind; the monster, and the lower class it represents, is a real and significant factor that can’t be undermined.