Teaser

Victor Frankenstein aspires to greatness, with science as his calling. Yet when he achieves the unthinkable, it triggers a chain of events that will destroy everything he holds dear . . .

Review

Over the past two hundred years, a lot has been said and written about Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. So much so that I doubt a humble little review like this can really add much to the conversation. Nevertheless, I shall add my thoughts to the discussion.

In Billion Year Spree, Brian Aldiss made the bold assertion that Frankenstein was the earliest example of a science fiction novel. that notion has caught on among scholars, and has taken root in the popular imagination too. I disagree with Aldiss. Firstly, if we are to open the doors of historical science fiction, there are earlier works. Thomas Moore’s Utopia, for example, which predates Shelley by almost two centuries. My larger argument, however, is that Franknestein is not, at its core, a science fiction story. Leaving aside the fact that the term ‘science fiction’ would not be invented for another century, and that Shelley would most likely have viewed her work as ‘gothic,’ or ‘horror, or perhaps even a ‘scientific romance’ at best, there is the book itself. Despite having a scientist as the main narrator, Frankenstein is curiously uninterested un science itself. I do not doubt that Shelley took an interest in (then) current developments surrounding anatomy and the like, but the actual principles by which Frankenstein creates his famous creature owes just as much to alchemy. Put simply, he could have magically created the being, and the plot would have developed along identical lines. Even Victor’s pursuit of acclaim in scientific circles does not develop overly much.

What Frankenstein represents is not the birth of science fiction. Instead, like Verne and Welles afterwards, it marks an important step on the road towards science fiction. In retrospect we can apply certain genre labels, but as a text in itself, science fiction this is not.

There is however, a fascinating moral debate, as there is with all great science fiction. Frankenstein creates, and subsequently abandons, his creature. The creature in turn comes to despise its creator, and begins murdering those close to Frankenstein by way of vengeance. There are, in broad terms, two academic schools of thought. One holds that Frankenstein is ultimately responsible for all this, with the creature being one of his victims, while the other sees the creature as responsible for its own actions. Either way, this is a tragedy in the truest sense, and just about everyone involved ends up dead.

The argument often made in the creature’s defence is that he is spurned by society, and lashes out. Perhaps taking it too far, but understandable nonetheless. To which I say: ‘Look mate, we’ve all been rejected, but you don’t see me going around strangling children.’ My take is that the creature is flawed from conception. It’s instinct is violence, but it goes beyond that. Not content with murdering a child, it then coolly frames an innocent woman for the crime. This is not lashing out. This is premediated and calculated behaviour. It is, for want of a better word, evil. The creature goes on to argue that he will only stop his murderous behaviour if Frankenstein creates a perfect bride for him. So there you have it. The creature is an incel too.

All of this moral debate is fairly forward-thinking for a novel of the time, and Shelley should be rightly recognised as a pioneer of women’s literature. Surrounding this, however, is a novel that is very much of its period. Vast sections read as travelogues, with Frankenstein describing foreign vistas in excruciating detail. No doubt wondrous at the time, but charmingly dated at best in this modern world. Frankenstein may be regarded by some as a scientific milestone, but in its approach it lingers in the shadow of the romantic. The parallels to John Milton’s Paradise Lost are made explicit within the text. This is without even mention the nestled narration, as a sea captain meets a scientist who meets a creature who meets an exile, all folded on top of one another, telling their story through a frame within a frame. These switches in narration are poorly delineated, with the audio doing the heavy lifting when it comes to separating one narrator from the next.

On that note, Derek Jacobi does a commendable job of narrating. I initially questioned his Genovese accent, but he soon pulled me. His creature oozes Byronic malice, simultaneously tortured and terrifying. Jacobi has one of those voices I could listen to for days on end, but he is at his best when given some scenery to chew one, and he finds this in the creature. It is not a caricature, but a fully realised and distinct character. A far better version than has ever been seen on screen.

Frankenstein, then, sits on the crossroads where the literature of the past meets the literature of the future. Yet while many future works owe it a debt, Shelley’s eyes are firmly set on the past.

Audio Stats

• Performed by Derek Jacobi
• First Published in 1818
• This Audio Edition by Silksound
• Runtime: 9hrs 7 mins