Reflections on re-reading Frankenstein in 2023
Why this 19th century masterpiece still resonates today
Recently — for a number of reasons that may or may not matter to the content of this essay — I began to re-read Frankenstein. This activity brings up flashbacks of my AP Literature class in high school, which in turn dredges up memories of other books I read as a teenager for other classes. I’m not sure I could come up with a complete list of just what I read, but the recollection of diving into and exploring this kind of fiction for the first time rises to the surface pretty quickly.
I’ve always liked reading, so thinking back to high school English class is (mostly) a positive experience. But I’m much more interested in the themes of Frankenstein itself than my own personal memories. To put it another way: this book absolutely rules and I’d highly recommend reading it in the year 2023.
Your mileage may vary for some of this, but here are two observations I have on this book.
The strength of nature
As a piece of Romantic literature, one of the core motifs of Frankenstein is that nature is restorative and beneficial in ways that science and industry can never be. Mary Shelly wrote the book in the throes of the Industrial Revolution and in the wake of the enlightenment, two epochs in history that alternatively emphasized mankind’s ability to reason and create (often destructively, in both cases). Throughout the novel, characters who open themselves to nature find it helpful and healing.
For example: Victor Frankenstein is calmest and most at peace when he’s outside, passages that Shelley punctuates with vivid descriptions of mountains, forests, and lakes. During a journey with his childhood friend in the second half of the novel, Frankenstein reflects on the beauty of the landscape. Because of the mental torture brought on by his creation of the monster, he’s unable to fully enjoy the scenery. However, he can still sense its beauty and feel some of its healing power. The friend, meanwhile, is completely unaffected by Frankenstein’s inhibitions and drinks in the beauty of the natural world rapturously.
Fast forward to 2023, where cries about the frailty of the natural world are all around us. The global population is somewhere north of 8 billion today, roughly 7 billion more than when Shelley wrote this book. Nature is still relatively easy to access (especially in the United States), but it’s undeniable that there’s a lot less of it than there used to be. One could argue that we in the 21st century should have an even higher appreciation of the natural world than Shelley did in the 19th.
The emphasis on nature also hits home on a practical level. I’m a parent now, with two small kids, and the simple act of going outside is one of the most calming, helpful things that I can do with them. Kids usually love being outside at younger ages — that’s just a fact of life, as far as I can tell — and I’m grateful that I live in an area where that’s a realistic activity for most of the year. Speaking personally, I’ve found that just being outside helps me center myself, remember my own significance in the context of the universe, and put my temporal concerns into context.
Frankenstein is not an explicitly evangelistic book, but there are clear references to God in Shelley’s reverence toward nature. In one passage, Frankenstein reflects on nature’s effect on him: “the dashing of the waterfalls around spoke of a power mighty as Omnipotence” he says, “and I ceased to fear or to bend before any being less almighty than that which had created and ruled the elements, here displayed in their most terrific guise.”¹ In other words, the focus on nature (for Shelley at least) is not on nature for its own sake. It’s also to remember the one who created it.
Frankenstein — as any reader of the novel will know — is a deeply disturbed man who is rarely able to find any peace, so it’s significant that most of the moments in the book where he is (relatively) at rest come outdoors in nature. Anyone who has felt the restorative effects from breathing, thinking, just being outside can identify with Frankenstein’s experiences (at least the feeling peace in nature part of them). So go read this book, preferably in your backyard.
The novel is technically excellent
Frankenstein is famous for (depending on who you ask) starting the genre of science fiction, but it’s also an incredibly strong novel on its literary merits. Frankenstein and his monster both resonate because of Shelley’s character work and writing. Additionally, the sense of dread and unease that haunts Frankenstein himself throughout essentially the entirety of the project is almost palpable. Even now, typing this, Shelley’s description of the protagonist’s declining mental state sticks with me.
The literary merits of this work go beyond its character work. Shelley’s prose is deeply readable, even impressively so for a book that’s over two centuries old. The plot moves quickly and is oddly believable for a work based on impossible acts. Reading Frankenstein requires suspension of disbelief regarding the protagonist’s ability to create life. Beyond that, every plot element, conversation, and event is eminently believable. I regard building a realistic world to be one of the most difficult aspects of writing good science fiction. Perhaps it’s fitting that (arguably) the first book in the genre did it so well.
Frankenstein hardly needs my recommendation — it’s a work of classic literature that most people have an opinion of already. But it’s also a book that feels relevant in 2023 (even beyond the comparison of AI development to Frankenstein’s monster, a subject that’s deserving of an entire post on its own). This book is filled with valuable lessons on nature and in just good writing are worth revisiting.
¹ Shelley, Mary. Frankenstein (p. 86). Global Publishers. Kindle Edition.
Notes:
- I’m hoping to read more classic literature over the next few years. I’ve found that my high school years missed a few books, but I’m also struck by just how relevant many of them are today. Almost like they’re classics for a reason, huh?
