Creation Doesn't End at Creation (The Two-Creations Theory, or the Sociology of Creation)
What did Viktor Frankenstein create? Did he create a monster? Arguably, yes, but that came later. Originally, Frankenstein creates... a thing. It's eight-feet-tall and male and has a vague human form. Immediately, however, he abandons his creation, calling it a "wretch," "monster," "daemon," and "fiend." Yikes. The poor creature goes off on his own and learns how to live by spying on a small family of cottagers, while Frankenstein has a long series of narcissistic and melodramatic breakdowns for several years. The creature quickly realizes that he is hated by everyone with eyes to see, but this does not bring him down, initially. He is on a quest to find a place in the world, and he nurtures hope that he can someday be accepted into society.
The point of this is to argue that the creation of "Frankenstein's monster" happened in two parts. First, his physical form was created and brought to life. At this point, however, he was not a "monster." He was a bizarre and ugly creature, but his identity as "monster" was created upon his rejection from society. Do we have any reason to believe that the creature was naturally disposed to malignancy? No, we don't, and that's Mary Shelley's big point. The monster was a monster not out of essence, but because Frankenstein and the other people in the story made him a monster.
The point of this is to argue that the creation of "Frankenstein's monster" happened in two parts. First, his physical form was created and brought to life. At this point, however, he was not a "monster." He was a bizarre and ugly creature, but his identity as "monster" was created upon his rejection from society. Do we have any reason to believe that the creature was naturally disposed to malignancy? No, we don't, and that's Mary Shelley's big point. The monster was a monster not out of essence, but because Frankenstein and the other people in the story made him a monster.
What is a "monster" anyway? The interpretation suggested in the novel is that a "monster" is anything that is deemed unworthy or unacceptable in society. A "monster" is not a thing with an evil essence, but a socially created identity. Interestingly, Frankenstein's creation ends up becoming the very thing which others believed him to be initially. This is not the result of accurate labeling, however, but self-fulfilling prophecy.
It is telling that Frankenstein gives no name to his creation. What are names for? Among other things, they signify one's belonging within society. Scientists give names to new discoveries as a way of bringing the thing into the human world. Artists similarly name their creative works. In the Book of Genesis, Adam named all of the animals, signifying their importance. The namelessness of Frankenstein's creation signifies its complete isolation from society. Even enemies have names, yet he does not. Ironically, the real world wanted to bring Frankenstein's creation into human society, and began calling it erroneously by the name "Frankenstein."
Surely, the story could have ended differently. The creature could have clung to his hope of being a part of society and refused to become that which people made him out to be (but really, he only ever knew pain and rejection, so I don't really blame him). Alternatively, someone could have accepted him someday and looked past the label of "monster." I'm reminded of the story of The Elephant Man, wherein one doctor treats a horribly deformed man whose life has been never-ending alienation and grief his whole life like a worthy human being . The point here is that if you can say "it could have been different," then there is a good chance that you are dealing with social constructions of some sort. So many stories have happy endings when traditional definitions of "monsters" and "daemons" crumble and new ages of tolerance and compassion are ushered in (an extreme example of this is found in the film Warm Bodies). Of course, Frankenstein is a tragedy because this doesn't happen.
The idea that creation happens in two parts--physical creation and meaning creation--says a lot about creativity in everyday life. Consider, for example, how much of the internet is dedicated to reviews and ratings. Are these systems not actively engaged in creation? Are they not deciding what does and does not belong in society? Even the act of consumption has creative aspects, because reception and rejection alter the meaning of a thing.
These two parts of creation are not equal, however. Physical creation is, in most cases, highly immutable and final. Physical creation of a thing can be concluded. Meaning creation, however, is infinite and everlasting. Meanings of things are always made, remade, and challenged. In our everyday lives, we are constantly creating and recreating meanings and identities of the world around us. Furthermore, these often imperceptible, taken-for-granted creations carry huge implications for how we act in the world. These meanings matter, because they guide human action, for better or for worse.
One way to think about Frankenstein is that it reveals the mundanity of monsterhood. The truth is, there are monsters in most people's lives. Some call them illegal immigrants. Others call them capitalist fat cats. Others call them Muslisms. You get the picture. Whenever you find yourself secretly wishing that someone or some group of people didn't exist, pause for a moment, because you've just created a monster. Some might call you the real monster, but then they will just have created a monster too. Our country is full of monsters, and creating them seems to be a veritable industry in itself.
All this talk of the social construction of monsters can be taken too far. There might be some cases in which identifying something as monstrous might be a good idea. I think of the rabid dog in To Kill a Mockingbird, for instance. Rabies kills! A lot! In terms of fatality rate, rabies is one of the most deadly diseases on the planet. The point of this discussion is not to dismiss all existing definitions as false and dangerous, but to destabilize our taken-for-granted assumptions about the world. Mary Shelley challenges us to reconsider what it means to be a monster -- she doesn't force us to deny their existence altogether.
Creation and Responsibility
Another way to consider the discussion of creation is in terms of responsibility. Mary Shelley provides us a creation story in which responsibility for the creation was all but abandoned. And yet, no one creates in a vacuum! Viktor Frankenstein's refusal to take responsibility for his creation ultimately leads to the deaths of everyone he holds dear, including his father, best friend and wife. This is an extreme example, but it brings up an important point. Ethical creation demands responsibility of the creator. Creation pursued solely for the self-aggrandizement can have tragic consequences.
Admittedly, the responsibility is a difficult concept today, when so many things are created in parts, bit by bit across an entire society. Little, isolated actions create cars and holocausts. Isolated individuals do not see their role in creation, and yet, they are creators nonetheless. In Frankenstein, Viktor Frankenstein was the main creator, but, all of those people who rejected and cursed at his creation also played parts as creators. We are all active creators. We are all responsible for the creations of this world.
What do you think? Do creations have "true" inner essences? Is there a self-contained, complete meaning behind every creation, or are creations assigned meaning, as discussed above? Are there limits to the ability of human beings to create meaning? What responsibility do creators have for their creations?
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