A Rare Bit of Poetry

I don’t often write poetry—but here’s a little something in iambic pentameter.

GREY

A mop of black hair dulled amidst the dirt,

Shadows of night spell days ending in death.

Grey eyes now lift to rise again from false

Endings and burn, ignite the deal, sold soul

Bitter and sweet, alive but free no more.

In life is death, in death is life remade,

A new purpose: to serve his own demons,

To be the dark he hid inside himself.

Frankenstein: What’s in a Name?

We all have that little something which unreasonably triggers us, a topic that pops up and begs us to argue one way or another, in defense or opposition, vehement when no one was quite looking to get into such a conversation.

Mine is Frankenstein.

Here’s the controversial part: when I say “Frankenstein” in this instance, I am, in fact, referring to the creation, not the creator; the monster, as some would say, not the scientist.

Queue a horde of academics hitting Caps Lock and screeching.

So, why is this controversial? Because in Mary Shelley’s novel, Victor Frankenstein’s creation was never named. He’s referred to in many ways, “the demon,” “being,” “creature,” “thing,” but Shelley chose not to give him a name, perhaps to echo how society chose not recognize him as a human being.

The title refers to Victor, which is why this conversation always begins with someone correcting an unsuspecting victim with something along the lines of, “Actually, Frankenstein is the scientist.”

Well, they opened the door, so here I am.

I counter with this: Frankenstein is the creator and the creation.

Now, you might remark that Victor wants nothing to do with this creation, spending most of the book running and hiding and denouncing what he’s done—which is true. But shouldn’t we consider how Frankenstein identifies? The creation that didn’t ask to be created, the man who’s first memory in this world was being abandoned, and whose subsequent experiences were predominantly marked by misunderstandings and prejudice.

It is true that calling the creation “Frankenstein” was initially a mistake which derived from mainstream media, but that doesn’t necessarily mean the take is entirely wrong. The Frankenstein of Shelley’s novel is not the bumbling monster characterized in most film adaptations. He’s intelligent, well-spoken, and is taught to be vindictive by the world’s indifference and abuse, but most profoundly by Victor’s neglect.

Consider this quote from Frankenstein: “At length the thought of you crossed my mind. I learned from your papers that you were my father, my creator; and to whom could I apply with more fitness than to him who had given me life?”

Frankenstein identifies Victor as his father and creator, he even says, “I ought to be thy Adam; but I am rather the fallen angel,” noting the dynamics of the relationship, that potential for family turned into rivalry as he was cast aside. They are enemies, and Frankenstein denounces Victor as such, but they’re still connected. We don’t get to choose our family.

Frankenstein spends the rest of the book destroying Victor’s life, killing everyone close to him, and vowing to continue in this pursuit. When Victor dies, Frankenstein grieves for the death of his only family, and for his loss of purpose in this world, a world in which he only ever wanted to belong, to be accepted, to have a family.

Is it more accurate, aligned with the text, and factual based on what we know of Shelley’s authorial intent to call him, “Frankenstein’s Monster?” Probably, though I prefer “Frankenstein’s Creation,” since Victor and Frankenstein can equally be seen as monsters in their own right. But calling him just Frankenstein isn’t wrong either. It really comes down to how you view him, and how you believe he views himself.

Perhaps Frankenstein wouldn’t want to align himself with his greatest enemy by using his name, but if that’s your take, I say what greater insult could he inflict than to take that which he was denied and claim it for himself? In any case, Frankenstein was looking for family, and I suppose it’s our choice whether we give it to him or not.

My final words on the matter are this: Frankenstein deserves his own name, but lacking in anything to call him, it should be acceptable to give him at least the name of the man that bore him.

Frankenstein, the creator. Frankenstein, the creation.