Frankenstein One-Pager Written Component

It would be an understatement to say that Victor Frankenstein, the main character in

Mary Shelley’s novel Frankenstein, has a God complex. Throughout his childhood, an obsession
with prolonging, immortalizing, and even creating life implanted itself and began to blossom in
his mind. Similarly, his careful upbringing by doting and wealthy parents instilled in him the
belief that he had an extraordinary, maybe even divine purpose. Yet it was the death of his
mother, despite what he states, that truly sealed his destiny as an ill-fated but well-intentioned
scientist. Yet with the realization of his dream, Frankenstein began his descent from viewing
himself as a divine to a demonic being, perhaps even as wretched as he views the creature of his
creation.
It is important to note that my piece can be viewed from any orientation, and each has its
own different meaning or spin to each image. However, I will initially reference the piece as one
would view it with the words “My Creator” upright and in the bottom right corner, and will
assume that orientation as 0˚.
Though “My Creator” is a phrase, I found it more than necessary to include both words,
as there is no other word that fully captures the meaning and implication that these two words do.
In its most immediate sense, “My Creator” was how the Creature thought of Frankenstein, and
how Frankenstein thought it ought to think of him. Not only in the literal meaning that Victor
painstakingly stitched together the creature’s muscles and tendons and organs which he had cut
free from dead human bodies, but also in the sense of seeing Frankenstein as a fatherly, god-like
figure. He fantasizes that “A new species would bless me as its creator and source… No father
could claim the gratitude of his child so completely as I should deserve theirs,” (Shelley, 42). His
using entitled language like “I should deserve” demonstrates how highly he thinks of himself. He
doesn’t even consider that he might have to do something other than create these beings to
deserve their gratitude. But even gratitude wasn’t a strong enough word for his feelings of
grandeur; he predicts that the new life “would bless me as its creator,” specifically invoking
divine language to describe what he believes is his deserved treatment. And somehow,
Frankenstein is not alone in his initial characterization of his and the Creature’s relationship.
Upon their first conversation, the Creature calls him “my natural lord and king” (Shelley, 90),
taking the relationship that Frankenstein had imagined one step further, asserting not only that
Frankenstein is godly and superior, but also that he himself ought to be obedient to him as a
subject would be to his king.
Now, turn the piece 90˚ counterclockwise, so that the light blue portion of the paper is at
the top of the page. From this position, a golden hand extends out of the top left corner from a
scattered gray thundercloud, and lightning bolts erupt from its fingertips, striking an angelic
silver and white figure in the bottom right corner. The clouds and lightning reference how nearly
every appearance of the Creature was accompanied by stormy weather, and as such came to
symbolize the Creature itself. As such, Frankenstein’s perception of storms evolved over the
course of the novel, from wondrous joy to fear of violence. At fifteen years old, he regards
thunder and inclement weather with awe, so much so that he “remained, while the storm lasted,
watching its progress with curiosity and delight” (Shelley, 29). Note the lack of violent
characterization. Instead, he describes it rather like one might describe a growing plant,
observing “progress” and expressing “curiosity and delight.” At this point, storms symbolize the
magnificence and greatness that Frankenstein aspires to create, and he holds no apprehension
towards the possible consequences of his actions. Yet by the time he meets and converses with
the Creature for the first time, he describes the accompanying storm with fear, noting how the
“thick mists hid the summits of the mountains” (Shelley, 87). Having already seen the
monstrosity of his work, he no longer regards such aspirations with joy. Yet he also doesn’t
know to what extent he ought to be afraid. That is, his encounters with the Creature haven’t yet
given him any indication as to what will become of his life. Like the mist of the storm, his
perception of the Creature hides “the summits” of his own life in doubt and mystery. And then
finally, just before the Creature murders his wife, Frankenstein is fully aware of the danger the
Creature poses. Hence, his perception of the inclement weather reflects this awareness, and he
describes the winds as “now [rising] with great violence in the west” (Shelley, 188). He has seen
the wrath of the Creature before, and knows that a “great violence” has been promised to him on
this night. The lightning on my piece reaches diagonally across almost the entire page, just as the
symbolism of the storm in Frankenstein stretches on through the course of the whole book.
The outstretched hand which pours lightning from its fingertips also captures some of the
divine symbolism that Shelley uses so often throughout the novel. At this current orientation, the
outstretched hand harps back to how Victor saw himself as he commenced his task of creation:
as a god, “bestowing animation upon lifeless matter” (Shelley, 40). The angelic being, as well as
the hellfire surrounding it, also encapsulates Frankenstein’s intentions in his endeavors. He
wanted to create that new species of “many happy and excellent natures” (Shelley, 42). He also
worked himself half to death acquiring and assembling the Creature, giving him “limbs… in
proportion” and “features as beautiful” (Shelley, 45). Yet, upon the actual creation of life, he
sees that his angelic intentions have gone up in flames. He has many names for the Creature, but
one that I found particular significance in was “daemon.” I found this name so interesting
because Satan, the most demonic of beings, is widely regarded as an angel who rebelled against
God, thus gaining his demonic nature. This closely mirrors Frankenstein’s relationship with the
Creature, beginning as a being of angelic intent, but rebelling against his creator upon his
inception. In doing so, the Creature becomes Frankenstein’s “daemon.”
The last thing to note about this orientation is the quote at the top center. This quote
actually comes from the intrepid explorer who writes back home to his sister at the beginning of
the novel. It reads “I feel my heart glow with an enthusiasm which elevates me to heaven; for
nothing contributes so much to tranquilize the mind as a steady purpose” (Shelley, 8). I felt this
exemplified Shelley’s writing skill so well because I actually noticed how Walton’s initial
mindset was nearly identical to Frankenstein’s before the creation of his Daemon. Once I noticed
this, I more closely observed how Walton reflected aspects of both Frankenstein and the
Creature, in his aspirations and loneliness, respectively. Yet, by the end of the novel, he takes
note from the bitter ending that Victor and the Creature meet, and actually learns from it, unlike
anyone else in the novel. Instead of persevering to the point of bodily harm as Frankenstein did,
he turns around from his voyage while he still can, escaping the certain death that Frankenstein’s
aspirations brought upon him.
The next 90˚ counterclockwise rotation reveals two small details of the piece. The first is
a tiny, red apple with a bite missing. This is referencing the Creature’s plea to Frankenstein,
begging him to remember that he himself “ought to be thy Adam” (Shelley, 90). I found this
two-fold use of figurative language striking, as the Creature simultaneously asks for guidance,
comparing Frankenstein to god and himself to Adam, while ironically arguing that he bears
original sin, just as Adam did once he ate from the tree of knowledge, in defiance of God’s will.
So, I placed the apple below the angelic figure at this orientation, to represent how the Creature,
from his hellish inception, had already defied his creator, bearing the same burden of sin as
Adam did.
 Just underneath the apple is another significant quote from Shelley. It ties back to the
metaphor of Adam and God, stating “How dangerous is the acquirement of knowledge, and how
much happier is the man who believes his native town to be the world, than he who aspires to
become greater than his nature will allow,” (Shelley, 41). Though it comes from Frankenstein’s
writings, it stands in sharp contrast with his actions, as he became the dangerous thing through
his mad quest for knowledge, aspiring to become greater than any person’s nature would allow.
Yet not only does it show how drastically Frankenstein’s perspective has changed since he began
his quest for knowledge, but it also serves as both a direct warning to Walton and an obvious
foreshadowing of the danger about to arrive into Frankenstein’s life.
Finally, after one last rotation of 90˚ counterclockwise, the last quote is upright, reading
“Thou art bound by ties only dissoluble by the annihilation of one of us” (Shelley, 90). I thought
this quote was powerful simply because of how absolute it is, and the truth that it foretold for the
rest of the novel. Neither Frankenstein nor the Creature was ever truly able to sever ties with the
other until Frankenstein’s death. Even then, the Creature felt more connected to him in death
than he had just moments before in life. It also again emphasizes the connection between the
Creator and the Created, despite how hateful the truth of this sounds to Frankenstein’s desire to
never see the Creature ever again.
And now, at this angle, the heavenly and hellish figure now in the top left corner appears
to be falling down, headfirst, carrying a blaze of hellfire with it. And also from this angle, the
golden hand that once appeared to give life to the figure now appears to be pulling it down,
striking the life out of it. This references Frankenstein’s lamentation that he, “like the archangel
who aspired to omnipotence, [is] chained in an eternal hell” (Shelly, 201). This again harkens
back to the myth of Satanic origin, the overambitious angel, disgraced by his own aspirations. At
this angle, the figure now represents a fallen Frankenstein, while the golden hand is the deadly
blow of the Creature. Yet, the hand doesn’t appear enraged, nor is it attempting to grab the white
figure. Much like the Creature, by its desire for humanity--its gentle outstretched fingers erupting
with lightning--it has taken the life of its Creator, damning Frankenstein to eternal
condemnation.