The monster is either directly or indirectly responsible for the deaths of six innocent

people. Or is he? “Frankenstein,” by Mary Shelly, peeks into every door and window of the

human psyche to explore what it means to truly be a monster. Most readers eventually find

themselves feeling empathetic toward the scientist's creation, despite his very obvious moral

discrepancies. In her novel, a young author of just nineteen years details the complexities of the

human condition more deeply and realistically than any other book I’ve ever read. Not only that,

but she makes us understand what it is to be human, through the life events of a scientific

impossibility. She takes the most unnatural, terrifying Being imaginable, and makes him into a

powerful vessel for truth and introspection. Although, at first glance, readers see Frankenstein’s

monster as a villain, Ms. Shelly prompts us to sympathize with his humanity more than any other

characters’ in the novel. She accomplishes this through allowing us to follow the monster’s arc in

his own words, crafting his diction eloquently, and juxtaposing him with his creator, Mr. Victor

Frankenstein.

First, Shelly allots a very healthy amount of chapters for the monster to share his story,

which follows a similar trajectory to many human experiences. It begins with curiosity. The

monster is abandoned by his father, much like we are left to our own devices by whatever

God/force places us here on Earth. However, he doesn’t let that hinder him from wondering at all

the miracles of the world. Similar to the way we observe babies, Shelly allows us to observe how

the monster marvels at the massive trees, singing birds, and intense brightness of sunlight. He

sets out into the world with intense optimism, despite the abandonment he experienced in his

first moments of life. Everything is new and exciting. He is full of hope. The next steps he takes

lead him to disillusionment and disappointment. We watch him learn to read and discover new

relationships/dynamics of family members and lovers alike. This reminds readers of their
adolescence: when we see new, important things for the first time. Eventually, his rejection by

the DeLacey family is representative of the teenage/early adult stages of life. The monster was

forced to make a life-altering decision with little-to-no life experiences to go off of. Much like

kids, ages eighteen to about twenty-three, are made to decide what they want to do with the rest

of their lives, without appropriate maturity levels to make educated choices. At just a few months

old, he has a heartbreaking, traumatic encounter with the only people he has ever loved, and this

will stay with him forever. We, as an audience, relate to this. We all have things in our lives —

memories and moments — that shape us. Furthermore, in the end, the monster feels nothing but

sorrow and regret for the horrible acts he committed. Readers relate to this, because we all know

what it feels like to be disappointed in ourselves and our actions. We all make decisions, in the

heat of moments, that we later live to regret. The monster’s story is so tragically relatable, that

we sympathize with him in the way that we hope people would sympathize with us, if they heard

our stories.

In the chapters where we hear the monster’s perspective, the author employs complex

diction that captures the intensity of his emotions, and thus makes us feel for him. Because he

speaks with such authority, authenticity, and knowledge, audiences admire him much like they

might admire a professor or any great orator. He is so incredibly capable of experiencing and

explaining a full range of human emotion, that we can’t even fathom the idea that he could be

“evil.” The choices of wording and phrasing that Shelly makes for him are so masterful, because

they help us understand that he is fully aware of himself and other people. Because he can

successfully articulate the exact intention behind his actions, as well as why he believes they are

justified, on some level they make sense to us. Because we hear the monster explain why he

committed the murders, and how he feels afterwards, it’s easier to forgive him. Because he
speaks so professionally and with such nuanced views of life, he reminds us of ourselves — he

honestly reminds us of someone better than ourselves. And when we feel burned, our first

instinct is to burn back. We can get behind the monster’s actions because we know that he

actively communicated his demands to Victor, and yet Victor does nothing to stop the monster’s

rampage. With the explicit evidence of the monster’s beautifully spoken communication with

Victor, it is extremely difficult to side with Mr. Frankenstein, and much easier to understand

where the monster is coming from.

Finally, the juxtaposition of the monster with Victor made us, as an audience, wonder

who it was that we should really have been feeling sorry for.

It is not lost on me that Frankenstein’s monster committed heinous and unforgivable

crimes against the human species. Some will argue that his manipulation and attempt at extortion

of Victor makes him evil. Others will say that his oath to hate all humans was premature and ill-

advised, and that makes him evil. His actions are immoral. He murdered in cold blood. I

understand these takes wholeheartedly. I almost agree with them. But no person’s life is black

and white enough for them to be dubbed only “good,” or only “evil.” Somehow, Marry Shelly

gets us on the monster’s side. That is her intention — she wants to mess with us. The monster’s

consistent need to learn and grow inspires us. His loneliness pulls at our heartstrings in such a

way that makes it so difficult not to feel sorry for him. He only wants to be helpful, successful,

and happy — as do all of us — is that so much to ask? Despite unbelievable odds, he tries,

harder than most of us ever will, to make something of his life, and his failure causes a grief that

we all share with him. We both admire his courage and pity his downfalls. He is only human. All

humans make mistakes. So long as we are truly resolved to learn from these mistakes, as the

monster was, we are not beyond redemption.