

While I cannot say with any certainty what my favorite horror novel/story is, I can say that the one I’ve been thinking about most lately is Mary Shelley’s classic tale Frankenstein. While it might be folly to say that Shelley was the first person to tell a horror story, I think that a pretty good case can be made that she helped to invent the Science Fiction genre. As horrific as the underlying tale of Frankenstein is, those horrors are deeply connected to Shelley’s portrayal of mankind using technology in order to usurp the power and position of God.
Her tale is like a prewritten rebuttal to Phillip Pullman’s His Dark Materials trilogy, which in the end collapses under the weight of its own promises. Pullman’s early entries in the series promised a glorious rebellion against a tyrannical deity, but left us with an impotent and inept fool who dissolves into Dust when it is exposed to the wind. Pullman might argue, and it would be a pretty good argument, that this was his philosophic point, but as good a philosophic point as it might be it was a narrative let down. Don’t get me wrong, there’s a good bit of action in the last book, but the Boss Fight is mid. Give me a narrative that ends with a bang, rather than a whimper, or at least push my sensibilities in a subversively shocking way like Michael Moorcock did in Behold the Man.
Shelley’s tale of man, via Reason, attempting to displace God was not unique in the Romantic Movement. The movement is filled with poets and artists who wanted to recapture the emotional and spiritual against dispassionate and sterile reason, as well as against formalized religious dogma which itself often relies on the tools of Reason (Aquinas for example). Blake’s The First Book of Urizen is a great example of the tyranny of Reason and how it can kill inspiration and the soul.
VII Lo! I unfold my darkness: and on This rock, place with strong hand the Book Of eternal brass, written in my solitude. VIII Laws of peace, of love, of unity: Of pity, compassion, forgiveness. Let each chuse one habitation: His ancient infinite mansion: One command, one joy, one desire, One curse, one weight, one measure One King, one God, one Law.
In the case of Frankenstein, Victor is initially inspired by the prospect of being able to create new life via reason, but in the end is horrified by his creation. He is cruel to that creation, lets the innocent die for the crimes of his creation, and is a thoroughly evil villain. To expand upon a common online meme, “Knowledge is knowing that Frankenstein is not the monster. Further examination reveals that Frankenstein is the monster. Wisdom is knowing that they are both monsters.”
So too is The Monster. It is easy to sympathize with The Monster. When he tells Victor of his plight, of his reasons for revenge, it is so tempting to fall in line with the beautifully told tale that The Monster tells. But Mary Shelley gives us clues that we should read between the lines and distrust the narrative The Monster weaves, just as we should have already come to distrust Victor.
When The Monster describes his time watching the De Lacey family, and how they taught him what family means and what the love and compassion of a family look like, Shelley makes sure to remind us that The Monster was particularly moved by a specific poetic work. That work? Paradise Lost.
“But Paradise Lost excited different and far deeper emotions. I read it, as I had read the other volumes which had fallen into my hands, as a true history. It moved every feeling of wonder and awe, that the picture of an omnipotent God warring with his creatures was capable of exciting. I often referred the several situations, as their similarity struck me, to my own. Like Adam, I was created apparently united by no link to any other being in existence; but his state was far different from mine in every other respect. He had come forth from the hands of God a perfect creature, happy and prosperous, guarded by the especial care of his Creator; he was allowed to converse with, and acquire knowledge from beings of a superior nature: but I was wretched, helpless, and alone. Many times I considered Satan as the fitter emblem of my condition; for often, like him, when I viewed the bliss of my protectors, the bitter gall of envy rose within me.” — The Monster, Frankenstein, by Mary Shelley 1818 edition.
The Monster is a beast of almost unimaginable strength, yet we are meant to believe it when he says that “Felix darted forward, and with supernatural force tore me from his father, to whose knees I clung.” The implication is that he was at the father’s knees begging for help, but what if he — the fan of Milton’s Satan — is dissembling here? What if he’s lying. What if he was already attacking the father? Who can say otherwise? No one. The family is gone and their cottage burned by The Monster. We are told that the family lives, but do they? According to whom? The Monster? The Monster who tells us the following?
“I know not; despair had not yet taken possession of me; my feelings were those of rage and revenge. I could with pleasure have destroyed the cottage and its inhabitants, and have glutted myself with their shrieks and misery.”
— The Monster, Frankenstein, Mary Shelley 1818 text
Yes, he tells us he did not act upon these feelings. That he only burned the cottage down AFTER seeing that the family had fled and after he heard Felix’s reasons for fleeing, reasons that seem perfectly reasonable to readers if they imagine that The Monster was not, in fact, merely pleading with Mr. De Lacey for aid, but was rather attacking him.
We have only his self-serving words to guide us. Well, that and the fact that any right minded person already hates and is horrified by Victor and his own lack of humanity.
It is easy to convince ourselves that Frankenstein is merely a tale of bad parenting, after all parenting matters (yes, I just referenced my own published paper there), and authoritarian parenting has severe negative consequences. Victor is certainly rigid and toxic enough in his expectations and demands to qualify as an authoritarian parent to his creation. That’s the tempting path, but it misses out on the critique of the dehumanizing and despiritualizing effect of Science and Reason as controlling force.
I’m not a passionate critic of dispassionate science, but I do think this is a tale that if told properly can resonate today. With the rise of AI, and the ways in which it has the potential to sap the creativity and inspiration from generations of people, Frankenstein is a salient and topical tale. It’s also a tale that has been mis-told many times in the past. Too often, film makers have fallen for the Miltonian Lie and forgotten that evil can rhetorically wrap sinister intent under the guise of sincerity. Too often, we are asked to love what even the innocent children in Shelley’s tale fear. Yes, we should despise Victor, but so too should we despise his creation.
I can think of no better film maker to grapple with the complexities of this story than Guillermo del Toro. He’s a master film maker and story teller who has a deep and rich understanding of both fairy tales and horror stories. He has masterfully navigated both genre’s in the past, always offering new insights. His child friendly, and hope centered, Trollhunters series is a masterclass in how to make a great animated show that engages with myth, while including some modern updates. The Strain series he cowrite with Chuck Hogan is a gripping update of the Vampire tale that merged elements of the Necroscope series, the Vampire: The Masquerade role playing game, and Stoker’s masterpiece. Crimson Peak is a beautiful addition to the Poe-esque Victorian horror catalog.
I am a huge fan of de Toro’s and had the honor of meeting him at a signing at what I consider to be the best Speculative Fiction store I’ve ever visited, Mystery and Imagination Bookshop. The store, sadly, closed its doors in 2016 (has it been so long) and is limited to an eBay presence now. Most of the people attending the signing brought DVDs or making of/art of books connected to his films. Like those people, I brought a copy of a book on Puss in Boots for him to sign. I also brought my copy of Arthur Machen’s The White People and other Weird Stories that del Toro wrote the forward for and when del Toro saw that book his eyes filled with joy and as he looked up to ask me about it, the experience transformed from a mechanistic open/signing experience to one of two fans meeting and sharing a love of genre.
We chatted a bit more after he spoke and many patrons had left and it was one of my favorite fan experiences. Based the huge catalog of great work that demonstrates his ability to capture horror and complex narratives, I have absolute faith that de Toro’s Frankenstein will be a sight to behold.
And now that we are over a decade away from Prometheus, I hope that he’ll return to his adaptation of At the Mountains of Madness. The oft quoted reason for that film’s cancellation was supposedly del Toro demanding an R rating (because duh), but his own words reveal how much Prometheus’ release influenced him to hit pause on the project.
Anyway, here’s the trailer for Frankenstein as interpreted by del Toro. It looks great and I can see so many stylistic influences it it. To say I’m excited is an understatement.
It looks so well crafted. My only disappointment is that Victor is middle aged instead of a university student like in the book. If a film is going to go for an older Victor, though, Oscar Isaac is 100% a great choice.
Seeing Jacob Elordi cast as the monster did throw me for a loop, though. But if del Toro is emphasizing the corpse being attractive before the experiments, then that will be an interesting layer.