The Effects of Suspense in "Frankenstein" by Mary Shelley
Riveting in innumerable ways, Mary Shelley's Frankenstein caused quite a stir some 200 years ago, and has carried on with such a longevity that it's influence on the Gothic genre lingers to today. Popularized now, much of the original suspense of the story of Frankenstein is lost as the viewer can anticipate the creation and revelation of his monster. As I read through Frankenstein myself, I sought to imagine myself as someone reading the novel, perhaps some 200 years ago, and threw out all preconceptions and anticipations I had towards what I thought I knew of Frankenstein. With this in mind, I found Mary Shelley's work to be otherworldly, melodramatically emotional, and with such a strong sense of suspense that I would imagine left it's first readers terrified.
The very premise of the narration yields terror. We are immediately led to the cold, dead world of the arctic, but our hearts are warmed by the young heart of Walton, a boy seeking science, discovery, and adventure. In telling the story through Walton and not through Victor, the audience is able to identify with him: we feel as he does, and as Victor's warnings weigh on Walton's beautiful youth, so it weighs on the audience, too. Victor is quick to establish that this story will not end with such high hopes. At every turn, Victor foreshadows his inevitable, or, as he might say, immutable, downfall. He often compares himself to Greece or Rome, civilizations with great promise like himself or Walton, yet crumbled tragically. For much of the story, we are left to wonder what could possibly be so absolutely terrible as to lead a man to as much misery as he claims to be in. "...I also record those events which led, by insensible steps, to my after tale of misery," he says, on page 34. This constant overarching feeling of oncoming misery, hinting at a singular event to cause such a drastic turn in one's life, consumes Victor's narrative.
Working in compliment with the foreboding language of the book, the atmosphere surrounding the creation of the monster was intentionally mysterious yet grotesque. Much of Frankenstein takes place at night and often in cold environments like on mountaintops or during the dead of winter, even past the creation of the monster. Victor often worked on his monstrosity at night: studying anatomy, and sneaking into the morgue to use pieces of corpses for his construction. The process of building the monster was revolting, even to Victor, and yet was never specifically described, merely as imbuing a "spark of life" to inanimate form. The audience is left to wonder. In turn, so much of the fear surrounding the monster comes from what we don't know. His unspecified creation, inexplicable inhuman abilities, and unknown location and capacity for violence make the monster a constant threat throughout the novel.
Every bit of Victor's misery is described in horrific detail, down to the beating of his heart or the revulsion in his stomach. "I felt my flesh tingle with an excess of sensitiveness, and I felt my pulse beat rapidly. I was unable to remain for a single instant in the same place." (page 63) and every other emotional or sensory experience Victor had due to the monster. In some regards, this was a marvelous choice by Mary Shelley, and in others I felt that this was a weaker method of creating tension in Frankenstein. While this, I'm sure, was gripping to most readers, particularly it's first, Victor's pain seemed largely repetitive by the end of the novel. For much of the time, Victor's verbose monologues about his suffering, and yet his stubborn inaction grew tiring. His inaction, to me, halted the suspense of the novel. Multiple times he voiced wanting to kill his creation but never accomplishes it, nor really creates much of a plan to. When his voice was most needed, as in Justine's trial, he says nothing, and yet he spends pages describing his own suffering over hers. His inability, or perhaps his unwillingness, reintegrate into society after her death is almost frustrating. As well, his claims of love for his fiance Elizabeth are many, but he delays their wedding to the point that both his remaining family members question whether or not he will ever go through with it. Interestingly enough, however, I did appreciate that many of these things that Victor so carelessly throws away are exactly the same things his monster desires most of all: a place in society, to be judged fairly, and the love of a partner.
The very premise of the narration yields terror. We are immediately led to the cold, dead world of the arctic, but our hearts are warmed by the young heart of Walton, a boy seeking science, discovery, and adventure. In telling the story through Walton and not through Victor, the audience is able to identify with him: we feel as he does, and as Victor's warnings weigh on Walton's beautiful youth, so it weighs on the audience, too. Victor is quick to establish that this story will not end with such high hopes. At every turn, Victor foreshadows his inevitable, or, as he might say, immutable, downfall. He often compares himself to Greece or Rome, civilizations with great promise like himself or Walton, yet crumbled tragically. For much of the story, we are left to wonder what could possibly be so absolutely terrible as to lead a man to as much misery as he claims to be in. "...I also record those events which led, by insensible steps, to my after tale of misery," he says, on page 34. This constant overarching feeling of oncoming misery, hinting at a singular event to cause such a drastic turn in one's life, consumes Victor's narrative.
Working in compliment with the foreboding language of the book, the atmosphere surrounding the creation of the monster was intentionally mysterious yet grotesque. Much of Frankenstein takes place at night and often in cold environments like on mountaintops or during the dead of winter, even past the creation of the monster. Victor often worked on his monstrosity at night: studying anatomy, and sneaking into the morgue to use pieces of corpses for his construction. The process of building the monster was revolting, even to Victor, and yet was never specifically described, merely as imbuing a "spark of life" to inanimate form. The audience is left to wonder. In turn, so much of the fear surrounding the monster comes from what we don't know. His unspecified creation, inexplicable inhuman abilities, and unknown location and capacity for violence make the monster a constant threat throughout the novel.
Every bit of Victor's misery is described in horrific detail, down to the beating of his heart or the revulsion in his stomach. "I felt my flesh tingle with an excess of sensitiveness, and I felt my pulse beat rapidly. I was unable to remain for a single instant in the same place." (page 63) and every other emotional or sensory experience Victor had due to the monster. In some regards, this was a marvelous choice by Mary Shelley, and in others I felt that this was a weaker method of creating tension in Frankenstein. While this, I'm sure, was gripping to most readers, particularly it's first, Victor's pain seemed largely repetitive by the end of the novel. For much of the time, Victor's verbose monologues about his suffering, and yet his stubborn inaction grew tiring. His inaction, to me, halted the suspense of the novel. Multiple times he voiced wanting to kill his creation but never accomplishes it, nor really creates much of a plan to. When his voice was most needed, as in Justine's trial, he says nothing, and yet he spends pages describing his own suffering over hers. His inability, or perhaps his unwillingness, reintegrate into society after her death is almost frustrating. As well, his claims of love for his fiance Elizabeth are many, but he delays their wedding to the point that both his remaining family members question whether or not he will ever go through with it. Interestingly enough, however, I did appreciate that many of these things that Victor so carelessly throws away are exactly the same things his monster desires most of all: a place in society, to be judged fairly, and the love of a partner.
I find your point on how the setting often takes place at night and/or in cold environments rather interesting. I wonder if this speaks to the theme of the novel in addition to just the atmosphere and sense of terror it insights in the reader.
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