There has been a recent rise in the discussion of Mary Shelley and her life. Frequently, I hear people discovering her rather “gothic” practices such as keeping her husband’s heart in her dresser or inviting him to her mother’s grave (if you know, you know). And while these things may have happened and are fascinating, they are not the only aspects of the author. Although the people I see talking about these things are not attempting to undermine her genius, they do fall in line with a common trend of limiting female authors to the scope of the feminine. I do not necessarily have an issue with discussing an author’s personal life, but I do have an issue with inserting one’s views into a novel with little textual support. I have an even bigger issue with claiming to know what the author intended based on a limited knowledge of their life.
This was the issue I faced doing research for my essay about Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. Initially released in 1818 and again in 1831, Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley’s work did much to propel the science-fiction genre. During the spring, I attended an academic conference where many essays attempted to claim the novel discusses a certain themes with little evidence because many themes simply were not present in the novel. The students asserted that the story is a wonderful classic because one can simply claim the novel talks about whatever topic they want to cover and argue for it (although a paraphrase, this was actually said). While doing my own research, I struggled to find a single piece of scholarship that discussed Frankenstein outside of a feminine lens. Many essays could not cover the novel without first mentioning Shelley’s dead mother or her relationship with Percy.
Attempting to link Mary Shelley’s or one’s own personal life to the events within her novel, often denies Mary Shelley the inventive credit she deserves. There are indeed many themes within the novel, but solely basing the discussion on the fact that Mary Shelley was a woman limits the scope of topics the book can cover. While her personal life may have influenced what she created, Mary Shelley’s exploration of hubris and identity transcend the limiting analysis of Frankenstein as a product of a motherless, female author. a subverted identity through the denial of a given name transcends the limiting discussion of Frankenstein as a product of a motherless, female author.
When someone takes a purely biographical approach to analyzing the meaning of Frankenstein, they reduce her work to an attempt at self-exploration rather than an inventive piece of fiction. When writing about this very problem, I came across an essay claiming that the novel was Mary Shelley’s attempt to explore her own origins as well as the failed life of her child. The author’s entire argument hinged on the novel being “viewed as a guilty restitution of the lost baby.” If this claim were true, the novel would be an intellectual exercise for Mary Shelley rather than the literary accomplishment that it truly is. Of course, this was bad enough in my opinion, but the author took his invasion of Shelley’s privacy even further by linking the creature’s exploration of Victor’s journal to the letters between Mary Shelley’s parents. The author claimed that “Shelley is indirectly betraying a fascination with her own conception” despite later admitting there was no confirmation that Shelley even read the letters. As a trained scholar, I found this method of analysis negligent and even disrespectful to Mary Shelley and her family. Yet, this author had his work published in an academic journal reviewed by several peers.
My exposure to this article and the conference encouraged me to write my own analysis of the novel that, although far from perfect, at least honors the text as the ultimate authority for interpreting the text. Throughout my efforts, I wanted to prove female authors, if the chose, could write about issues other than their femininity. If one were to look at the scholarship surrounding female authors, one might begin to think women were incapable of doing so, but I want to broaden that scope and recognize Shelley as the genius she was, capable of writing beyond her own experiences. By no means do I think the women who do write about feminine issues are less talented authors, but those women should be looked at if one wants to discuss purely feminine themes.
Of course, I could not help myself from doing my own biographical research to support my fidelity to the text. I found that Shelley’s repeated denial of her self-assertion in both the editing of Percy Shelley’s works and the creation of her own disturbed the notion that Frankenstein was a direct illusion to her own life. One essay written by James P. Carson provided insight into Shelley’s creative methods by consulting her letters rather than creating assumptions. In one such letter, Shelley stated, “I did not make myself the heroine of my tales…I could not figure to myself that romantic woes or wonderful events would ever be my lot; but I was not confined to my own identity.” Found in the 1831 introduction to her novel, Mary Shelley challenges those who would assume that her identity and life events crafted the themes within her novel. Yet as Carson says, this interpretation does not claim that Mary Shelley betrays her femininity, “self-affirmation was not the primary goal at which she aimed. But her refusal to assert her female self would not necessarily make Shelley a less powerful woman writer.” Mary Shelley’s identity ranges beyond her experiences without her mother and even beyond herself as a woman. She writes not only about women but humanity in general.
As I analyzed the experiences in the novel that transcend the male or female experience, I began to see the reoccurring theme of a subverted identity through the denial of a given name. The female identity is no less complex than that of the male identity and is, therefore, an aspect of the human identity. This human identity is what Frankenstein denied his creation by neglecting to give it a name. While Frankenstein’s creation remains nameless, it is forced to refer to itself and be referred to only by descriptors which link the creation’s identity to that of a “monster,” “devil,” and “creature.” These descriptors make it impossible for the creation’s identity to be directed and defined by Frankenstein. The creature emphasizes this desire upon confronting Frankenstein, “I was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend. Make me happy, and I shall again be virtuous.” The creature feels as though it was ready and willing to be molded by Frankenstein, and the refusal to do so directly led to the creature’s horrendous actions. Had the creature been taught what its identity should be by being bestowed a name, Frankenstein would have taken on the responsibility of instruction and direction. The few times the creature refers to itself as something other than Frankenstein’s creature emphasizes its dissatisfaction with the lack of direction it was given, “when I became fully convinced that I was in reality the monster that I am, I was filled with the bitterest sensations of despondence and mortification.” The creature learned of its monstrous looks by comparing itself to those it observed, realizing that it has no way of bridging the gap between itself and the humans without the assistance of Frankenstein.
The creature yearns for its identity to be defined by Frankenstein, ultimately leading to the creature’s commitment to revenge; however, the critics act no differently in their denial of Mary Shelley’s identity outside of her personal experiences. Because the creature has not been given an identity through a name, the creature must develop its own identity from what it has observed. Initially, the creature seeks another like itself so that it can develop an identity through a companion. In making this request, the creature seeks sympathy from Victor, “Let me see that I excite the sympathy of some existing thing; do not deny me my request!” The creature sees Victor’s sympathy as the only way for the creature to be content. Thus, the creature demands Victor to define its identity, hinging its stability on Frankenstein’s acquiescence. Because Victor neglected to name the creature, the creature has no access to humanity despite connection being its greatest desire. Thus, the creature develops its identity as a reaction to Frankenstein’s refusal to create the creature a mate. Attempting to define the novel by Mary Shelley’s experience as a woman or a motherless child fractures her identity as a human to a mere aspect of her humanity much like the creature’s identity is fractured by its attempt to be defined by one person.
When critics analyze the dialogue of Mary Shelley’s novel to support their own beliefs of what a female author should write about, they reflect the tragedy of the creature’s inability to connect with its creator prompting the creature to seek means other than the human effort of dialogue. In his The Dialogic Imagination Four Essays, Bakhtin speaks to this very issue, saying the “heteroglossia, once incorporated into the novel…is another’s speech in another’s language, serving to express authorial intentions but in a refracted way.” Since the author still maintains control over the languages used, the language itself cannot say more than what the author intends, yet an individual reading the text will have to determine for themselves why the author chose the languages present in the text and the significance behind such a choice.
Thus, an interpretation of a novel that relies on conjecture to form the argument denies the author their deserved agency. Mary Shelley, had she wanted her novel to be about her own feminine identity, could have chosen to make her feminine identity more explicit in the novel’s dialogue. However, Mary Shelley chooses to focus on human identity, which does include but is not limited to gender. Limiting the scope of her novel denies Mary Shelley’s dialogic agency just as the creature is denied after it attempted reason through dialogue, “Slave, I before reasoned with you, but you have proved yourself unworthy of my condescension.” The creature, being denied the power of its words, resorts to revenge. Mary Shelley cannot resort to revenge, however. Thus, the responsibility to remain loyal to the text rests on the critics’ shoulders with no additional accountability outside of some letters and the novel itself.
The amount of scholarship that attempts to define Frankenstein through Mary Shelley’s identity as a woman and the loss of her mother irresponsibly attends to Shelley’s discussion of identity within her novel. Though her feminine identity is not one to be ashamed of or ignored, neither Mary Shelley nor her work can be completely defined by the feminine. Because Frankenstein refused to give the creature a link to human identity through a name, the creature must demand an identity of its creator, weakening its stability and agency. Similarly, Mary Shelley must be given the credit she deserves as an author who, influenced by her experiences, is able to create a work of literature that transcends a singular definition. While Mary Shelley’s femininity cannot be denied, neither can her identity as an author capable of creating a work of art separate from her experiences.