Thoughts on Books: Frankenstein

All Hallow's Eve has come again and, to commemorate the holiday, the Thoughts on Books novel is a Halloween classic, Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. Which brings up another important landmark, we are featuring our first woman author on the blog! We've talked about her husband, Percy Bysshe Shelley, before. You can check out his post here. I can't imagine what this couple's life must have been like, writing all the time and running around Europe. They had two distinct and profound minds.

Mary's gothic novel was groundbreaking. She titled it Frankenstein, or the Modern Prometheus. In Greek mythology, Prometheus was a titan who fought with Zeus against the other Titans in the great war, the Titanomachy. It seems likely that Mary referred to one of Prometheus' specific exploits against Zeus for her book. As the story goes, the titan stole the fire from Olympus and brought it to the benefit of mankind. In retaliation, Zeus cursed Prometheus for all eternity. Most of his stories focus on the theme of a non-god challenge the authority and sovereignty of the almighty Zeus.

When Mary Shelley wrote Frankenstein, she was a very intelligent girl with an original twist on a classic idea. There had been several creator myths prior to her novel, but she may have been the first to put man in the creator role. Exploring that motif was a fascinating development for her time period and has traveled through time as a classic. When it was published it must have been completely scandalous. She first published it anonymously. Even now, the true story of Frankenstein, can be jarring.

First of all, Frankenstein 101. This monster is not Frankenstein. Frankenstein is the last name of the scientist who created the creature that popularly absorbs his name.

This is not Frankenstein's monster. The cutesy, smiley, adorable creature completely negates the most important idea of the novel: the creature was so hideous that humans instantly abhorred and reviled him.

There are probably a thousand different and important themes from the book to discuss, but after seeing a theatrical production of the story, one idea has stuck with me more than any other. It goes right back to Mary Shelley's original intention and Prometheus stealing the fire from Olympus: the moral conflict between creator and creation.

Mary wrote the novel at time when she was likely at odds with the parent-child mechanism. After running off with Percy Shelley abroad from England and becoming penniless, her father refused to see her. She was confused. Her father had always been a proponent that marriage was oppressive. Her amorous relationship with a married man should not have bothered him, and still he refused her.

Soon after she became a parent herself; however, the child died while still very young.

Lord Byron's house, where Frankenstein was conceived

Under this psychological pretense, Percy and Lord Byron's, Mary's friends, asked her to come up with a ghost story. She got the idea late one night, saying the idea possessed her so completely that she couldn't go to sleep.

The big question of the novel is this: what responsibilities exist between a creator and its creation?

The book makes a very strong case that a creator, by necessity, must live up to a higher standard than its creation. Frankenstein's creature, like many children, is adept at identifying the hypocrisy of mankind. Eventually this leads him to the question, "If my creator has this, why can't I have this?" When the creature thus dethrones the sovereignty of his creator he finds himself at a moral standstill.

What makes Frankenstein unique is that man creates man. The question the creature asks is paramount to creation. What rules can possibly govern a creation if there is no hierarchy in primitive ability between creator and its creation?

Mary Shelley felt this hypocrisy when her father forsake her. Her father, whose very words seemed to advocate her decision to pursue love at any cost, condemned her behavior. Did her father's words carry any weight without the authority of a respected fatherly relationship?

The book continues to be a classic today because it still has important themes to explore. If there were ever a time that the common man or woman was exalted to a high pinnacle, it is today. But if mankind now reaches new heights, what principles can possibly govern it? We often turn to past minds for moral guidance. Philosophers of ages past and books from times long gone are more important now if ever. But how can that make any sense? Surely, access to information and intellect is more available today than ever before.

What happens when someone realizes, "Hey, I'm not that different from the men who wrote the laws. Why should I follow something made by one no more powerful or wise than I?"

The need for a creator more powerful than ourselves is irreplaceable. The worst thing we can do as a society, is to replace the rules that govern us, whether they be abstract concepts of justice, or the idea of God. Without governing principles, everything would melt into chaos.

Mary Shelley grasped this idea when, to come up with a ghost story at the request of her loved ones, she stumbled upon a horrific scene at midnight. In her words:

"I saw the pale student of unhallowed arts kneeling beside 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."

If you haven't read Frankenstein, it's not long, and it's a perfect book for Halloween.

Thoughts on Books: Slaughterhouse Five

Kurt Vonnegut's masterpiece sat on my shelf for the better part of a decade. I picked it up several times and tried to read it, but I honestly couldn't understand what the book was. At first it felt like an autobiographical incident, dragged into several chapters, about trying to find an idea for a book. When I finally decided it was time to give Slaughterhouse Five its due attention, I couldn't put it down.

It's hard to describe the book's genre. It's like an interesting type of stream of consciousness and the entire time I found myself asking, did this happen to Vonnegut or to the book's protagonist, Billy Pilgrim? To say the book is simply fiction is not entirely true, and to say it's non-fiction isn't entirely true either.

The book is really about the bombing of Dresden during WWII. 

Vonnegut was in Dresden at the time as a POW. The bombing is one of the lesser known events of the Second Great War because it was eclipsed soon after by the atomic bombings of Japan. Still, the gritty truth is this: the Allies dropped about 4,000 tons of firebombs on Dresden, Germany toward the end of the war. The city had no military significance and was considered by many to be a center of great cultural significance, much like Florence, Italy. 

The devastation was horrific. Recently, official reports have confirmed nearly 25,000 deaths, a number made up mostly of civilian lives. Well over 100,000 people lost their homes and became refugees; the city was leveled. People suffocated while taking shelter underground. 

Vonnegut underlines the destruction with a question that prompts deep reflection on violence.

Nations give so much attention to control nuclear weaponry, but do we really need atomic power to destroy the world? Or, in lieu of atomic bombs, would they just find other ways to level cities and kill thousands of people all at once?

The book is very strongly anti-war, but who isn't anti-war? I've met people who are in favor of some of the effects of war, like the nullification of an international threat or an increased wartime economy, but I've never actually known anyone who has been in favor of actual war.

Vonnegut also turns America on its own head. Slaughterhouse Five was published in '69, when very little had been leaked to the American public about Dresden. The bombing of Dresden was controversial, to say it very, very mildly. It stands out against the U.S. as an immoral flaw in command. Perhaps it was a lapse of judgement. But it opened a door for Americans to scrutinize their country with a new magnifying glass. After they swept away all the propaganda posters, they found some ugly things under the rug. People woke up and realized that patriotism sometimes shares a bed with self-criticism.

One of these themes is the obsession Americans have with wealth. Vonnegut points out that most Americans are poor, but they aren't allowed to accept their situation. Millions of people have lived and died poor and happy. But there is an obsession in the U.S. about trying to become rich. In reality, it's ok to not have the coolest car on the street or the biggest house on the block. Wealth is really all relative anyway. At one point in the novel, Billy Pilgrim finds a very large diamond while traipsing around as a soldier, but what use does a wartime soldier have for a diamond that is valued so highly?

In Vonnegut's words:

"America is the wealthiest nation on Earth, but its people are mainly poor, and poor Americans are urged to hate themselves"..."Every other nation has folk traditions of men who were poor but extremely wise and virtuous, and therefore more estimable than anyone with power and gold. No such tales are told by the American poor. They mock themselves and glorify their betters. The meanest eating or drinking establishment, owned by a man who is himself poor, is very likely to have a sign on its wall asking this cruel question: 'if you're so smart, why ain't you rich?' There will also be an American flag no larger than a child's hand -- glued to a lollipop stick and flying from the cash register."

Having said all this, if someone were to open the book thinking he or she would be reading about firebombs in Dresden or social reform, the text might be a bit surprising. Instead, Vonnegut takes readers into the mind of Billy Pilgrim, who lived through the bombing, and from such traumatic experiences in the war, lost even his grip on time and place. 

Some people say the book has a lot of humor in it, but not the kind that makes you laugh. 

Perhaps Vonnegut describes his book best from a quote within its very pages, "There is no beginning, no middle, no end, no suspense, no moral, no causes, no effects. What we love in our books are the depths of many marvelous moments seen all at one time."

Thoughts on Books: The Picture of Dorian Gray

I recently finished a timeless classic by Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray. Although I had been familiar with the premise, it was the first time I had a chance to read through the whole story. It was a quick read, not many pages, but a profound commentary on some ideologies that ran rampant during Wilde's time. I found that his commentary has a newly-born application in today's world, where Web v2.0 has exalted the individual and we find our society spiraling deeper and deeper into the throes of exhibitionism and compelled narcissism.

Yes, I know there are a thousand responses to the looming judgement that this next generation is self-centered, but frankly I can't see how this generation wouldn't be self-centered. I remember my first time surfing the web, sitting in my parents' master bedroom. I still recall the charming dial-up noises, raspy and nostalgic. If anyone had told me that one day I would have several different web pages devoted to documenting my life...

And yet here we are.


Because of this new social culture, Wilde's back and forth about a hedonistic form of aestheticism and a more tempered practice of society's advancement through beauty is even more important than ever before.
In the novel, Dorian Gray, the acclaimed most perfect specimen of a young man in the world, is split between the philosophies of his artist-friend, Basil Hallward, and Lord Henry Wotton. Hallward paints his portrait while he is still in the prime of his years, unblemished from society or corruption of sin or age. He practically worships Dorian and, through his creation of art, represents an appreciation of beauty through the advancement of culture. On the other hand, Lord Henry Wotton sees Dorian as the perfect vessel to test the limits of hedonism, the pursuit of pleasure without restraint of moral compass or conscience.

Dorian spends the book learning about both sides beauty's ugly coin, but Wilde seemingly disagrees with hedonism, as the demise of his protagonist serves as a good ole', "moral of the story is!" moment. A scholar studying the text summed it up well:
"Aestheticism does well to condemn the renunciation of desires, but it is an excessive obedience to these desires that is subversively dangerous. Therefore, in the practice of Wilde’s aestheticism, forethought and constraint are necessities, yet too often lacking, and without them, one is doomed to suffer the same fate as Dorian Gray." - Patrick Duggan

Wilde had a deal of personal clout with which to approach this novel's motif. The idea of unrestrained pleasure mixing with the traditional values of society was not foreign to him, even at a young age. His father had three children out of wedlock and had them raised with his relatives, apart from his own wife and children, apart from his own, respectable life. This division of family must have had a profound impact on Wilde's life. It's reflected in Dorian's divided lifestyle as well, one with Hallward, respectable and upright, and one with Lord Henry, lascivious and mischievous.

Also, similarly to Dorian Gray, Wilde dabbled in all sorts of different methodologies and ideologies, and yet remained aloof to them all. It seemed he was solely interested in becoming acquainted with a great number of different cultural experiences. Wilde once received a book from a friend, Walter Pater's, called Studies,  that would go on to have a deep influence in his personal philosophy, just like Dorian received a book from Hallward that eventually led to his complete corruption. This fascination of contradicting ideas and beliefs led to some uncomfortable clashes internally for Wilde and Dorian alike.

Wilde was a man with passions, which he checked himself. He was a firm believer in Christianity, almost going as far as to join the clergy. And yet at the same time, he worshipped art. He spent his entire life trying to reconcile his beliefs and his emotions, interests and desires.

Wilde once said, "I find it harder and harder every day to live up to my blue china." I think his quotation sums up The Picture of Dorian Gray perfectly.

Now for my own "the moral of the blog post is!" moments.

I think all of us have some type of Faustian bargain, or deal with the devil, we've made in our lives. It's a simple as abandoning what we feel to be right in pursuit of what we feel we want. We can't live in a divided house though. At what point do we hide our portrait in the attic, in our shame, and continue on, hiding the effects of our poor choices?

It gets harder and harder to live up to the blue china we display on the shelves. How long can we keep the gig up before the china shatters and we're left trying to sweep up its shattered pieces?

Hopefully we can learn our lessons faster than Dorian Gray.

Thoughts on Books: A Farewell to Arms

Recently I finished reading A Farewell to Arms, by Ernest Hemingway. It's a classic, a novel that recounts the story of an American man who enlists in the Italian ranks during WWI. There he meets a British nurse and falls in love, leading him through conflicting adventures of life, death and longing.

For those of you who have not read Hemingway, reading this book is a great introduction to his literary style. His punchy dialogue and staccato sentence structure, seemingly void of emotion, is already fairly developed. On a cursory glance it might seem that Hemingway's style downplays the work's dramatic events and cuts out emotional ties. For me, it had the opposite effect.

I read a review of A Farewell to Arms in an edition of the New York Times from 1929 in which it contrasts Hemingway's new and modern writing style to the authors of the Victorian Era. The Victorian authors, would have written the events in flowery prose and indulgent imagery. It was an interesting comparison and it made me reflect on current trends in the entertainment industry. How do we speak in books, films and movies today compared to other time periods?

At least in the United States, today we have developed a satirical, sarcastic and irreverent way of speaking in entertainment media. Professionalism and perceived reputation stunts emotional communication. Often when people are too open about the emotional nature of a story or even current events, they are negatively branded. We just don't know how to behave when someone is emotional.

For example, Jon Stewart and the Daily Show took a long hiatus after the terrorist attacks on September 11th. When he came back on the air he opened their first return episode candidly, without the satire. In his opening monologue he choked up and fought back tears. Later he was criticized for crying on camera. This man, arguably (and ironically) one of the most influential political identities for an entire generation of young adults, showed his uncontrollable sorrow for one of America's most impactful tragedies in the past several decades and he was criticized. We simply value emotionally stoic individuals as modern role models.

Although Hemingway wrote in the rapid and blocky literary style that helped to shape modern literature, I didn't find that his writing stunted his emotional power. If anything it enhanced it. Instead of downplaying the poignant plot elements in his novel, he forced himself to show instead of tell. Rather than elaborate on wordy descriptions he let actions speak for themselves. His protagonist's numb response to the traumatic experiences he encounters brings to mind the hopeless and lost feelings that I've experienced in my own life in the face of crushing adversity.

Hemingway also touches on some major provocative themes that gained new meaning during his time period. The book's main focus is the contradictory roles of war and love in our lives. He discusses episodes of heroism from a soldier's point of view of the soldier and contrasts it with heroism from a lover's point of view. In both cases he illustrates great sacrifices and sometimes, nonsensical commands, be they from commanding officers or the heart.

The resounding sentiment is very clear. Love is war, and the stakes are just as high.

It is a provocative read and a definite classic.