Frankenstein and Westworld

After finishing the second volume of Gris Grimsly’s Frankenstein, I started watching the first season of the new HBO show Westworld. Without spoiling too much, Westworld is based on a 1973 movie of the same name where a western-style amusement park filled with humanoid robots begins to experience “malfunctions”. Many modern science fiction stories, including Westworld, barrow heavily from Mary Shelly’s Frankenstein. Frankenstein established two major themes which have been retold countless times; Those being “creation as the monster” and the “creator as the monster”.

Stories of imperfect creations going awry go back to ancient creation mythology. In Judeo-Christian mythology, Adam and Eve were banished from the Garden of Eden for their sinful nature. On page 101 of Grimsly’s Frankenstein, you can even see Frankenstein’s monster reading John Milton’s Paradise Lost. Like Adam, Frankenstein’s monster was created with flaws which resulted in evil behavior. In order for this theme to work, the actions of the creation must be unexpected to the creator like how Frankenstein had no idea his creature would end up murdering people, and the hero in this story must vanquish the corrupt creation. Other movies, like Terminator and The Matrix, are also examples of this theme. In those movies, artificial intelligence originally created by humans rebel against their makers and its the job of the protagonist to find a way to stop it.

I have only seen the first episode of Westworld, but I can tell they are focusing on the latter theme. Westworld is a place which allows you to live out your western fantasies. If you want to be a rancher for a day, you can do that. If you want to be a sheriff for a day, you can do that. If you want to rape, pillage, and murder every one in town, you can do that. Everything is allowed with the excuse that nothing is real. All the characters in this amusement park are automatons and are reset, memories completely wiped out, at the end of the day. Things begin to get interesting when the robots begin to become aware of their reality. In this story, the creators are the monsters as they use their creation for mere pleasure and vicious satisfaction. While watching, I found it hard to not sympathize with the automatons as they often seemed more human than the actual humans.

When I first read Mary Shelly’s Frankenstein, I had an easier time sympathizing and finding humanity in Frankenstein’s monster than in Frankenstein himself. Grimsly’s art from chapters 3 to 5 only made it easier to see the humanity in the monster. What I enjoy most about the Frankenstein story is how it explores both the “creation as the monster” and the “creator as the monster” themes. I think Victor is the true monster of the story. He created life to satisfy his own desires without taking into account the implications of such an act, similar to the designers of Westworld. What do you think? Who is the real monster? The creation or the creator?

Sources:

Grimly, Gris. Gris Grimly's Frankenstein. New York: Balzer & Bray, 2013. Print.

https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/hostedimages/1382798290i/6204317._SY540_.jpg

http://www.slate.com/content/dam/slate/articles/arts/television/2016/09/160928_TV_Westworld-01.jpg.CROP.promo-xlarge2.jpg 

http://www.joblo.com/newsimages1/westworld-hbo-1.jpg

https://pbs.twimg.com/media/Ct8464GWgAAWNE_.jpg

Chicken | Egg

So we have two-thirds of Frankenstein down, and one-third left to go. I feel like most people are familiar with the plot of the novel, in various degrees of depth, so I find it interesting to see how our familiarity with the narrative affects how we view and consider it. Warning: this post, argument-wise, might be a little inconsistent; I have a tendency to constantly debtate myself and I think it tends to show in class and in my blogs.

Frankenstein, as a novel, compels us to think outside our normal morals or ethics. Victor and his monster are the biggest examples of this - I feel sorry for Victor, but at the same time, I have to question why on earth he thought trying to make a person would be a good idea? He was so consumed with whether or not he could, he didn't really stop to think if he should. He loses loved ones, but he readily belives that it is, ultimately, his own fault - whether it is or isn't is up for us to decide. Either way, I feel that this is the number one lesson of Frankenstein, folks: know your limits.

I feel pity for Frankenstein's monster, which I think he would find irritating. He is a lot like Grendel, in a way - ugly, unloved (although Grendel had his mom) by men, excluded and shunned - yet I don't find myself feeling as sorry for him as I think I could? I don't know why, and I can't explain it - there's just something about him (maybe his entitlement?), and I can't quite put my finger on it.

FRANKENSTEIN'S MONSTER: 

SAME. We've all been there, right?

A big theme of Frankenstein is, overall, the idea of blame. Who is to blame for what happens? It's a complex question, and it has no easy answer. I would argue Frankenstein's monster is as much a victim of Victor as William and Justine are victims of the monster himself, but does that excuse his (the monster's) actions? His history might help explain him, but is it a reason for what he does? Does Frankenstein's monster ever stop being a victim of Frankenstein's machinations even when he takes revenge on him? Like I said: who is to blame? It's a variant of the eternal question: which came first, the chicken or the egg?

Another theme I've noticed in the book, and one I've not really thought through completely yet, is how trauma seems to perpetuate trauma. Where does that cycle end, and how did it start?

"It's Frawnk-un-steen"

References to other pieces of media aside, I have been thinking about Frankenstein and what we can learn from it quite a bit these past few days.  While I'm sure we're going to go over the major points of the remaining story in class, there is one particular incident that sticks out to me in Frankenstein.  I believe it can be argued that one theme of the book can be the dangers of man's creation. In this case, the creation of Victor Frankenstein's monster.  I also believe that there is an examination of human nature that can be observed throughout the book.  In fact, I believe the entire book, alongside its obvious horror undertones and the fact that it addresses the dangers of the mind of man, can be seen as an insight to human nature on all fronts - how creation, fear and how instinct play into our lives.

The aforementioned incident I wish to discuss is the moment in which Frankenstein gives life to his creation.  Here was Victor Frankenstein - a brilliant scientists, who toiled endlessly to reach his goal of bringing life from nothingness. The reader would almost think him to be smarter than the rest of us, given his scientific achievements and pedigree.  However, when he is presented with the true reality of his creation, he flees.  Despite all of the sophistication, academia and brilliance, Frankenstein is still subject to human nature like the rest of us.  In his case, his nature told him to run from the monster and hide - but, most importantly, it commanded him to not acknowledge the monster's existence; at least outwardly.

I feel that this is important because if we view the book as an insight on human nature (the fear of the perceived abhorrent) it may reveal the root cause of all of Frankenstein's problems.  Had he just sat down and talked to the thing (as it attempted to do with him - probably trying to ask why it was created) he perhaps could've avoided the death of his sibling and the pain the monster would go on to cause.  But he did not.  He ran, tried to forget all about the monster and move on with his life.  Out of sight, out of mind, one could say.  However, this did not just make his problems disappear - rather, his failure to address his creation from the start would come back not only to haunt him, but his family and town as well.  It is human nature to flee from one's problems, but this flight will surely come back to bite us in the future, as it did for Frankenstein.  This is why, perhaps, I believe the book can be seen as an axiom against fleeing from your problems - especially if you created them.

We're all monsters

As we discussed in our presentation last week, and in our class discussion, this unique graphic novel of "Frankenstein" offers us a whole new way of looking at Mary Shelly's version of the original text. Whether you like this graphic novel or not, we can all agree that reading this story through a different medium affects what we understand and take away from the story. Now that we've established the differences in writing styles and plot, we have to begin to explore the characters a bit more.

Maybe it's because I've been reading a lot of "Hamlet" lately in my English seminar, but I can't help but feel some sympathy for Victor Frankenstein. He's a brilliant scientist who is also extremely lonely and wants to make something of himself. So he creates this extraordinary being, and what does it do? It starts killing people! Now of course this is not what Victor Frankenstein intended to happen, but does that make it okay? We've mentioned many times throughout the semester how we don't like to attribute human-like qualities to monsters, but the truth is, humans can be monsters too. But where is the line drawn between monster and "a guy who makes a mistake that ends terrific boy"? Is there a difference between good and bad intentions in terms of who is and is not a monster. You would probably say a man today who is in prison for life for killing 5 teenagers is a monster (hypothetical situation here) but what if that wasn't his intention? What if he claims it was self defense, would we still say he is a monster?

I think our answers to these questions connect back with our morals-what we believe to be right and wrong. But, as we've mentioned after reading Asma's article, when we are actually in a dangerous or scary situation, we may end up acting differently than we thought we would've. As much as we with things were black and white, they're not. So, if like me you have some sympathy for Victor Frankenstein, that's okay. But if you think he's a monster, that's okay too. It's all a matter of opinion, but we can't ignore the fact that anyone has the potential to have monster-like qualities.

Is it the deed or the effect?

“I, not in deed, but in effect, was the true murderer.” 

- Victor Frankenstein

This is an intriguing line in that it presses upon the fact that to be considered a monster may not lie only in the deed that is done but in the actions that lead to monstrous deeds.  Victor did not kill William nor Justine and yet his obsession in his work led to the creation of his monster and his inability to acknowledge, control and destroy said monster led to monstrous deeds and lives lost.

How does this change the way we look at monsters?  I think it expands the notion of monsters from acts only to acts and lack of actions.  If Victor had destroyed what he created, or at least notified someone that a creature was on the loose, there wouldn't be a metaphorical trail of blood leading back to him. 

Not only are we responsible and should be held accountable for the deeds we do, but perhaps we should also be held accountable for the deeds we don't do but greatly influence, as well as the acts we don't prevent when we are capable to do so.  I'm not saying that in situations such as a random knife attack we are held accountable to stop the attack.  I'm merely saying that there are moments when we do something questionable and we try hard to justify our actions in an attempt to assuage our guilt; and in those very moments we need to really think about if we are on the path of monster-like deeds as a result of inaction.

Yes, there is a difference between monsters, monstrous acts, and acts that lead to monstrous outcomes but how big is that difference and where does one end and the other begin?  It seems like a lot of gray area to me…

Sources:

1. Grimly, Gris and Mary Shelley. Gris Grimly's Frankenstein. N.p.: Balzer & Bray, 2015. Print.

2. http://thebookwars.ca/2014/03/gris-grimlys-frankenstein/

3. http://www.mememaker.net/meme/brace-ourselves-the-gray-area-is-coming/

Bridging the Gap: Frankenstein and This Dark Endeavor

Reading Gris Grimly's Frankenstein for the first time, I felt like I was revisiting an old friend that had vanished for months on end. In spite of what that comment might suggest, I am not talking about reading Frankenstein from the new illustrated perspective (although I am sure that is a fascinating topic to talk about as well). Rather, I am referring to the "head start" on Frankenstein I got by reading Kenneth Oppel's two prequels to it, This Dark Endeavor and Such Wicked Intent.

This Dark Endeavor and Such Wicked Intent take place in Victor Frankenstein's adolescent years, focusing on events mentioned in passing throughout the original novel by Mary Shelley, like his search for the elixir of life. I did not pick these novels up from my love of the classic gothic novel; rather, I am a massive fan of Oppel's works. He is one of my greatest inspirations for writing because of his creativity and world building skills. I remember staying up into the long hours of a Tuesday night finishing Such Wicked Intent, enraptured in its conclusion despite knowing how much the next day's practice would hurt on four hours of sleep.

Reading Frankenstein for the first time after finishing those two books has made the exercise into a series of revelations and obscure references finally making sense for me. The bolt of lightning that inspired curiosity in Victor early on in Frankenstein acted as the conclusion of Such Wicked Intent, foreshadowing his future in reanimating the dead with energy. Similarly, his quest to resurrect the dead becomes more tragic having read This Dark Endeavor, serving as a dark mirror to his previous mission to save his dying brother from a mysterious illness.

With this background in mind, reading Frankenstein is a lot like playing Minesweeper. The biggest difference is that, instead of losing when I click on an unusual square, an invisible connection between the books is finally created for me. In a strange way, it's immensely satisfying to "get" the books with the original context in mind. I may have to reread them to see what other hidden references will be uncovered with this new perspective.

I am certain some plot threads from Oppel's prequels may have been single-serving, like Victor's twin brother Conrad, the love triangle/quadrangle, and Elizabeth's implied interests in the occult and "darker" sciences. Regardless, I am eager to continue the novel and see what else is in store. Grimly's artwork has undoubtedly made this journey much easier for me than reading a wordy Victorian novel would. Not that I mind Victorian novels - A Hero of Our Time and The Count of Monte Cristo are classics in my eyes - but he has made the story more approachable for time-cramped people like me.

Like that coin toss in No Country for Old Men, everything just lined up perfectly to make this reading of Frankenstein a unique one. I intend to make the most of it.

Works Cited:

Grimly, Gris, and Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley. Frankenstein, Or, The Modern Prometheus. Vol. 1. New York: Balzer Bray, 2013. Print.

Oppel, Kenneth. This Dark Endeavor. New York: Simon & Schuster, 2011. Print.

Oppel, Kenneth. Such Wicked Intent. New York: Simon & Schuster, 2012. Print.