Sheffield Gothic Does World Book Day Part Two

To celebrate World Book Day 2018, we decided it was the perfect time to celebrate two of our favourite books here at Sheffield Gothic: Jane Austen’s Northanger Abbey and Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein.  As both books are seminal Gothic texts and both celebrate their 200th anniversary this year (technically Northanger Abbey was published late December 1817 but the frontispiece declares 1818, so let us have this one okay?) it seemed like the ideal time. Yesterday, Sheffield Gothic co-organiser discussed her love for Northanger Abbey – which you can read here – and today Sheffield Gothic’s other co-organiser discusses her favourite book, Frankenstein.

Frankenstein

It was on a dreary night of November, that I first sat down to read Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein and imagined the dull yellow eye of the creature. Ok, that’s not entirely true, but ever since I first read Shelley’s novel in my teens, I have returned again and again to the story of Victor Frankenstein and his quest to create life. Or, to put it more accurately, I have been fascinated by the Creature and the Creature’s narrative. The Creature’s story is framed by abandonment, neglect, and then abuse from the creator, Victor while the Creature’s physical appearance is marked by Victor’s laziness and impatience: ‘As the minuteness of the parts formed a great hindrance to my speed, I resolved, contrary to my intention, to make the being of gigantic stature.’[i] Yes, I may be slightly obsessed with the representation of the Creature: I will scrutinize whether you use ‘monster’ or ‘creature,’ I will judge films on how Victor and the Creature are depicted, and my friends are well aware that a quick comment about Frankenstein can turn into a long tirade about just how awful Victor truly is.

(A few of my copies of Frankenstein)

But before we get too far ahead of ourselves, let’s go back to the start: In the beginning there was a young writer named Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin Shelley. Born on 30^th August 1797, and daughter of William Godwin (who you may know as the author of Caleb Williams) and Mary Wollstonecraft (yes, renowned mother of modern day feminism who was recently named by current Labour leader Jeremy Corbyn as his political hero), the young Mary began a love affair with the already married Percy Bysshe Shelley in 1814. Although Percy was a huge fan and political follower of Mary’s father, that did not stop the pair eloping. With his wife Harriet in England, Percy and Mary travelled Europe, eventually ending up in Geneva with Mary’s step-sister, the celebrated poet Lord Byron, and his doctor, Polidori at the now infamous Villa Diodati.[ii]

The events at Villa Diodati were often drug-fuelled and influenced by a philosophy of free love (I would highly recommend Ken Russel’s fabulous, if melodramatic, retelling of these events in his 1986 film Gothic) and it was here that Mary Shelley came up with – or gave birth to - the idea for Frankenstein. Confined to the house due to unceasing rain, the group amused themselves by reading German ghost stories until Byron proposed they each come up with a ghost story. Byron’s own contribution was a poem about a vampire, later inspiring Polidori’s short story ‘The Vampyre’ which is frequently cited as inspiring the modern fictional vampire. The other significant creation from this evening of ghost stories is Frankenstein. Although unable to come up with a story on the night, Mary Shelley later recounted the morning after:   

When I placed my head on my pillow, I did not sleep, nor could I be said to think. My imagination, unbidden, possessed and guided me, gifting the successive images that arose in my mind with a vividness far beyond the usual bounds of reverie. I saw – with shit eyes, but with acute mental vision – I saw the pale student of unhallowed arts kneeling besides the thing he had put together. I saw the hideous phantasm of a man stretched out, and then, on the working of some powerful engine, show signs of life, and stir with an uneasy, half-vital motion.  Frightful must it be; for supremely frightful would be the effect of any human endeavour to mock the stupendous mechanism of the Creator of the world.[iii]

In true Gothic fashion, the story of Victor Frankenstein and his creation came to Mary Shelley in a dream – or rather a nightmare - and with the editorial help of Percy Shelley, Mary transformed it into Frankenstein.

(1831 edition)

First published anonymously in 1818, Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus was dedicated to William Godwin and contained a preface written by Percy Shelley, with many people speculating that Percy, and not Mary, was the true author of the work. Four years later, the second edition of the novel was published, this time declaring the true author of the text, while in 1831 a heavily revised edition was published. It is this later, 1831 edition that is most widely published today, although I personally feel the 1818 edition is far superior: the later, revised edition responds to criticism of the original text, making the story less radical and presenting Victor in a more sympathetic light. Rather than being responsible for his actions – the horror of the novel stemming from his own decisions – the 1831 portrays Victor as a victim of fate; instead of possessing his own agency, Victor is merely an unfortunate pawn.[iv]

Although there is only one answer to the question ‘Which is the best edition of Frankenstein?’ (the answer being, of course, the 1818 version!) the legacy of Shelley’s novel is undeniable regardless of your response. It is a text that has been adapted countless times in novels and comic books, onstage and in film, while the figure of the Creature often escapes beyond the bounds of its narrative and, like Dracula, is frequently referenced in popular culture. Peter Ackroyd’s 2008 novel, for example, moves the creation of Shelley’s creature to London, reimagining the events as Victor is guided by none other than Percy Shelley (perhaps, too much Percy and not enough of the actual creator, Mary herself).

In her lifetime, Shelley saw a production of Presumption; or The Fate of Frankenstein, a play by Richard Brinsley Peake performed in 1823. The first film adaptation, Frankenstein, was written directed by J. Searle Dawley for Edison Studios in 1910, while perhaps one of the most notable early adaptations is James Whales 1931 version for Universal starring Boris Karloff. Universal subsequently released numerous sequels – including Bride of Frankenstein (1935) and Son of Frankenstein (1939) – and later Hammer Films also saw success with numerous adaptations such as The Curse of Frankenstein (1957), The Revenge of Frankenstein (1958), and The Horror of Frankenstein (1970).    

(Boris Karloff in James Whale's Frankenstein,1931)

Recent adaptations include Kenneth Branagh’s 1994 Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein which claims to be a more faithful adaptation of Shelley’s novel (spoiler: its not!) and also Danny Boyle’s 2011 stage adaptation. Starring Benedict Cumberbatch and Jonny Lee Miller as both Victor and the Creature, Boyle’s version essentially creates two interlinked versions, where the characters of creator and creation are blurred together and it is, in my opinion, the best adaptation of Shelley’s novel by a long stretch. Other recent adaptations include Stuart Beattie’s I, Frankenstein (2014) and Paul McGuigan’s Victor Frankenstein (2015), and you can read my reviews of these films here and here. A version of Frankenstein's creation also appears in Buffy the Vampire Slayer season four as the big bad, Adam, while Victor Frankenstein and his Creature feature prominently in Penny Dreadful. 

Ultimately, however, nothing compares to Shelley’s original 1818 novel. The compelling nature of Frankenstein – a story about a creator who has overreached, and of a Creature abandoned by their creator – continues to resonate with and fascinate us, and will probably continue to do so. Moreover, Frankenstein demonstrates that female authors, and the creativity of their works, should never be underestimated, and to quote Shelley herself:

Beware; for I am fearless and therefore powerful. [v]

Mary Going is a PhD researcher at the University of Sheffield exploring depictions of Jewish characters and myths in late-eighteenth and early-nineteenth century fiction, and she is also co-organiser of Sheffield Gothic and the Reimagining the Gothic project. She maintains that 'If I cannot inspire love, I will cause fear' (although we may be joking about that!)

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[i] Mary Shelley, Frankenstein (Oxford: Oxford World Classics, 2008), p. 35.

[ii] Fun fact: Mary Shelley often refers to John Polidori as ‘Poor Polidori’ because he kept injuring himself during their stay in Geneva.

[iii] Mary Shelley, ‘Author’s Introductiom to the Standard Novels Edition (1831)’ in Frankenstein (Oxford: Oxford World Classics, 2008), pp. 192-197 (p. 196).

[iv] To read more about the differences between the 1818 and 1831 versions, check out Anne K. Mellor’s ‘Revising Frankenstein’, in Mary Shelley: Her Life, Her Fiction, Her Monsters (New York: Methuen, 1988), pp. 170-76, which you can also read here.

[v] Mary Shelley, Frankenstein (Oxford: Oxford World Classics, 2008), p. 140.