Frankenstein, sadly, without Gene Wilder.
The magnitude of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein to the literary world and its counterparts is most undeniably great, considering its epistolary fashion and experimentive nature of occult phonomena that are the ligaments to the novels skeleton. Having previously read the novel, it is most interesting reading it again and seeing new interpretations of thematics and other such contents that make this novel such a mark on the literary timeline of the Western world. One of the first things noticed in the opening letters (Letter IV gives wonderful example) is the similarities in frailty between Dr. Frankenstein and Captain Robert Walton and how through their trials it is shifted to more of a sense of despair but recognized growth, given what their time together entails. “You may conceive my astonishment on hearing such a question addressed to me from a man on the brink of destruction. . .we were on a voyage of discovery towards the northern pole.” (35) While these lines seem resonably crafted, I detect an almost acute sense of sensetivity and perhaps femenine traits that Victor also shows signs of later on. An example; “Oh, save me! save me! I imagined that the monster seized me; I struggled furiously, and fell down in a fit.” (64) This flamboyance is without a doubt partially drawn from parts of Victors past, present, and the seclusion of himself from the outside world with the construction of his now animte being. An almost self-destructive account of scientific brilliance leads him to multiple illnesses, fears, and paranoid acts of outlandish manners; those of which he can not help but be susceptible to.
