You Win This One, Mary Shelley...

"'I fear, my beloved girl,' I said, 'little happiness remains for us on earth; yet all that I may one day enjoy is centred in you. Chase away your idle fears; to you alone do I consecrate my life, and my endeavors for contentment.'" -- Page 140

Let's get a group 'Aw!', shall we?  Awwwwww!  Alright, that felt good.

First, I take back everything I said about Victor!  He's amazing, the best, wonderful, a true Gothic romantic!  The letter he writes to Elizabeth while returning to her is beautiful poetry ripped straight out of a Taylor Swift love story (no pun intended).  I know I thought it was a little creepy at first, the incestuous relationship between Victor and Elizabeth, brother and sister, cousin and cousin.  Call it what you'd like, they aren't related.  They reveal their mutual love for each other in what is probably the cutest way possible, and I can appreciate that.  But to be honest, I'm just glad something interesting happened in this story besides Franky killing one of Victor's kinsmen and then Victor moping about it for three chapters straight.  All in all, the future is looking up for Victor if he marries Elizabeth, and if he does as he promises, which is tell Elizabeth everything the day after they're married, then maybe he can finally get some support in this novel from someone other than his own inner conscience.  I swear his biggest problem during the entire course of events was never letting someone else in.  You gotta let that stuff out, man.

Hate to Say I Told You So, But...

"I entered the room where the corpse lay, and was led up to the coffin. How can I describe my sensations on beholding it? I feel yet parched with horror, nor can I reflect on that terrible moment without shuddering and agony. The examination, the presence of the magistrate and witnesses, passed like a dream from my memory, when I saw the lifeless form of Henry Clerval stretched before me." -- Page 129

I'm glad Henry Clerval died.  I really am, and I saw it coming for two reasons.  But before those two reasons, further proof that Victor is mentally insane, an apostrophe.

"Clerval! beloved friend! Even now it delights me to record your words, and to dwell on the praise of which you are so eminently deserving." -- Page 113

Cut back on the laudanum, Victor.  Addressing a dead companion may seem gothically romantic, but it's just weird.  Anyways, the two ways I saw this coming:

1. While googling/sparknoting Frankenstein, it was spoiled to me on an analytical website, and
2. Franky told us it was gonna happen!

I mean seriously, Victor.  How dumb do you have to be?  I could give you an entire page's worth of quotes where Franky warns Victor what will happen for destroying his unfinished work, but instead I'll quote one; "Your hours will pass in dread and misery, and soon the bolt will fall which must ravish from you your happiness forever."  There it is in plain English (well, French, I suppose).  And yet Victor, the ever-arrogant mongrel that he is, continues to shout things that would upset even the gentlest creature, like "Devil, cease" and "Begone!" and so on herein and herein contained, etcetera etcetera!  Then he wonders how such terrible and horrible things 'befall' him throughout his entire whole entire whole life when really it should come as no shock to see Clerval turn up dead.  I was glad Henry died because I wanted to prove to Victor that he can't be such a pubescent adolescent about everything, changing his mind and ideas at the whim of the weather, but it backfired.  What happened was Victor's complaining filled the pages for the next two chapters.  Boo!

OM NOM NOM

"'Safie was always gay and happy; she and I improved rapidly in the knowledge of language, so that in two months I began to comprehend most of the words uttered by my protectors.'" -- Page 83

There's a common trend I've realized while reading Frankenstein, and that trend is the deus ex machina, Latin for "God out of the machine", which can be applied in this sense as an unusual amount of convenient coincidences for one novel.  In the example used above, when Mary Shelley needs to simultaneously explain how Franky can learn how to speak, read, and comprehend/employ a vast number of cultural and historical references, she introduces Safie and the whole De Lacey backstory, conveniently allowing for Franky to learn how to speak fluently-educated French in under two years.  Safie is the deus ex machina, but the conveniences don't stop there.  Franky can read; he never learned how to read, and learning how to speak is waaay different from learning how to read.  But Mary Shelley, in courtroom judge style, will allow it.  Franky always seems to be where Victor is, even when he isn't trying.  When he kills Clerval, the body gets left in Ireland.  IRELAND.  How random is that?  Basically, Mary Shelley (or should I say her husband) is a lazy writer, but I'm not a lazy reader!  Alas, we clash!

Foil

"Alas, how great was the contrast between us! He was alive to every new scene; joyful when he saw the beauties of the setting sun, and more happy when he beheld it rise, and recommence a new day. He pointed out to me the shifting colours of the landscape, and the appearances of the sky." -- Page 112

In this excerpt from Chapter XVIII, Victor talks about the stark contrast between himself and his best friend and companion, Henry Clerval.  In literature we have a name for these juxtaposed personalities, they're called foil characters.  For every self-pitying, cry baby, whining, depressing comment Victor can make about life, Clerval is there to brighten the day with odes to nature and the beauties of life.  Victor despises creation (with fair reason) where Clerval embraces it.  It's truly a pity that Henry has to be the one to die.  O, how I hate Victor.  This foil at first seems to make a good storyline, as the duo travel the English countryside, visiting the houses of randos who invite people into their homes without knowing them.  Then, they split up (bad move).  Within Clerval I see resemblances to Franky; they both appreciate nature and speak with poetic wisdoms about humanity and its charms.  In fact, I'm starting to see a common denominator here, that the only unlikeable character in this whole novel is actually Victor, because all he does is complain about his life.  I don't like your life either, Victor!  Do something interesting.

Showdown: the Creator vs. the Created

"'Abhorred monster! fiend that thou art! the tortures of hell are too mild a vengeance for thy crimes. Wretched devil! you reproach me with your creation; come on, then, that I may extinguish the spark which I so negligently bestowed.' / He easily eluded me..." -- Page 68

I don't like Victor that much anymore.  He's mean to poor Franky (as I affectionately call him), and he's a loser.  He charges at his creation, "impelled by all the feelings which can arm one being against the existence of another", and misses horribly.  I'm empathize much more with Franky, because his longings seem at least genuine and with reason.  His creator shunned him already upon creation, and he has no friend; he's abhorrent, an abomination.  His sadness and self-pity is well founded, whereas Victor just whines about his supposed fate without taking any steps to change or prevent it.  Victor has the love of his family which he has abused, while Franky has never had the love of anyone.  Poor guy.  On a slightly unrelated note, I think the fact that Victor refuses to tell Walton the secret of life is a total cop out on the part of Mary Shelley, so we're back on bad terms again.  Make something up, at least the lightning thing!  Sheesh.

"And on the morrow Justine died."

"And on the morrow Justine died." -- Page 60

What a pleasant way to put it, no?  She was put to death, she didn't just die, but I like the way Mary Shelley thinks.  Straightforward and to the point, unlike the three hours worth of lollygagging preceding it.  However, I did get a lot of helpful information regarding Victor in the chapters leading up to Justine's trial and subsequent "death".  For starters, he's mentally insane.  He believes Justine's innocence even in the face of unquestionable evidence, and when pondering the actions of the daemon, he side notes to Walton that, "[he] did not for a minute doubt" that the creature murdered William.  The creature has consumed his inner thoughts, and he is thoroughly convinced that it is inherently evil and hellbent on murdering people and framing others (makes so much sense, no?) even though he has no substantial proof in this regard.  To contrast this, Victor's longtime friend Henry Clerval represents levelheaded sanity, and serves as a foil character to Victor.  He is open about his thoughts and feelings, unlike Victor, and in his good health tries to console his friend in his time of need, also unlike Victor, who is for the most part in bad health and mopes around his family rather than staying in high spirits for their sakes.  Basically, Victor is nothing like the Frankenstein I imagined (i.e. awesome mad scientist who gets brutally murdered by his creature), but rather a very conflicted bore.

It's Alive!

"It was on a dreary night of November, that I beheld the accomplishment of my toils." -- Page 34

I'm really disappointed by the fact that this classic line isn't in the book.  It makes me upset and I've lost 85% of my respect for Mary Shelley for not thinking of putting it in her novel.  I knew that Frankenstein's monster wasn't called 'Frankenstein', but it's interesting to know that he wasn't ever green, either.  The description of the "daemon" follows:

"I saw the dull yellow eye of the creature open; it breathed hard, and a convulsive motion agitated its limbs...His limbs were in proportion, and I had selected his features as beautiful. Beautiful! —Great God! His yellow skin scarcely covered the work of muscles and arteries beneath, his hair was of a lustrous black, and flowing; his teeth of pearly whiteness; but these luxuriances only formed a more horrid contrast with his watery eyes, that seemed almost of the same colour as the dun-white sockets in which they were set, his shrivelled complexion and straight black lips."

Gross!  Based on this account, I'm thinking Frankenstein looked less like this...

...and more like this:

It doesn't really bother me either way.  I'm still hung up on the "It's alive!" thing...

Veektore Frawnkenshteyen

"I am by birth a Genevese, and my family is one of the most distinguished of that republic..." -- Page 14

And thus begins the tale of Victor Frankenstein, as he tells his story within Walton's own story, a story within a story, a frame story!  The significance of this frame story is the parallelism between the two men.  Both have a deep (albeit questionable) longing for their sisters, and write to them.  Both are hard-driven in their motives and ideals; they both aspire to do something monumental that will benefit mankind, and be the first to do it.  Both men also studied the works of those who preceded them in their prospective fields.  Lastly, both men struggle with doubts and feelings of loneliness.  Basically, they're like the same person.  That's not very original, Mary.  Victor describes his childhood life as pretty perfect, which sucks for him because at current in the novel he hates himself, what he has done, and what he has created.  It's really rather sad, and in a pathetic sort of way I pity Victor.  All he wanted was knowledge, and the knowledge that he sought so desperately has started to destroy him.  What I don't understand is why he's so repulsed by the creature; it hadn't done anything terrific and yet from the start he despised it.  No wonder the thing ran away and went on a killing spree.  All the creature wanted was the approval of his creator, and Victor denied him this.  So I guess I don't really feel sorry for him at all; he brought it upon himself.

SnoozFest 2011

"My affection for my guest increases every day." -- Page 11

Alright, I'm almost halfway through reading Frankenstein, and all my mind is allowing me to think right now is how unbearably whiny every male figure in this book is.  Robert Walton and Victor Frankenstein, our two narrators thus far, are self-pitying effeminates who both desire to be with their sisters.  Really, Mary Shelley was one messed up 18 year old.  For much of the beginning letters, Walton complains about either a) not having any friends, or b) his own doubts and general bi-polar confidence levels concerning his mission.  Then, by the grace of God, he finds a new character (and can stop talking about himself for once) in the near-dead Victor Frankenstein.  Unfortunately for me, the reader, Victor takes the opportunity to bore us all with a lengthy amount of exposition in four more chapters of slow, painful development of his background while simultaneously creeping us all out with his yet-to-be-realized-but-really-it's-there-he-just-isn't-coming-straight-out-and-saying-it love for his "cousin".  For the rest of the time, he's complaining about how awful his fate is and how he just can't take living this terrible, horrible, no good, very bad destiny he's created for himself.  I don't feel any sympathy for him though; he's delusional and he brought this upon himself.  That's what you get when you dabble in the black magic!  I feel like so far there's not a whole lot to figure out, because most of the text is straightforward and I don't know enough yet to analyze in depth.

I Wanna Go Play BioShock Now

"He gazed up at the enormous face. Forty years it had taken him to learn what kind of smile was hidden beneath the dark moustache. O cruel, needless misunderstanding! O stubborn, self-willed exile from the loving breast! Two gin-scented tears trickled down the sides of his nose. But it was all right, everything was all right, the struggle was finished. He had won the victory over himself. He loved Big Brother." -- Page 266

I really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really liked 1984 (by George Orwell).  The more that time passes since I've finished reading it, the more I find myself enjoying everything about it.  Sure, it takes a little while to pick up a pace, and sure, most of the conflict is internal, and sure, it's all a bunch of political philosophies tied up in jargon within Winston's chaotic brain and O'Brien's bold statements and the Party's haunting aphorisms and the Book, but what can I say, I like that stuff.  I would like to think that Orwell's vision hasn't come true, but sometimes the amount of information documented of individuals and filed out there is scary to think about.  However, while having a discussion with a scholarly friend over Spring Break about 1984, we both agreed that a society such as the one Winston Smith lives in during the novel is unrealistic in today's world, mostly because of the obsessive use of the Internet.  With so much information able to be uploaded, processed, shared, downloaded, and synthesized so rapidly anywhere on the globe, a society where the populace is entirely closed off from the outside world is unthinkable.  Oceania relied on lies about the wars and the destruction of excess goods through continuous warfare to keep its citizens in the dark, and this would be virtually impossible in today's world because of the Internet.  Recently in the Middle East, the suppressed classes have revolted against their governments, and these revolutions in short were made possible because of networking sites that exist today like Facebook, Youtube, and Twitter, none of which were even conceptualized ten years ago.  Orwell could not have foreseen the Internet when writing 1984, let alone the thought of mass social networking.  On the same thread, websites like WikiLeaks, founded by Julian Assange, will reveal ridiculous amounts of information that governments keep from its people.  Documents that aren't even withheld for power-hungry reasons, as in 1984, but for issues of national security.  Because of the inconceivable power and capacity of the Internet, and, I think, because of the existence of the book 1984 itself, George Orwell's vision of the future, at least at present, is in no danger of eventuation.

2007, Form B

"'Sometimes,' she said, 'they threaten you with something- something you can't stand up to, can't even think about. And then you say, "Don't do it to me, do it to somebody else, do it to so-and-so." And perhaps you might pretend, afterwards, that it was only a trick and that you just said it to make them stop and didn't really mean it. But that isn't true. At the time when it happens you do mean it. You think there's no other way of saving yourself, and you're quite ready to save yourself that way. You want it to happen to the other person. You don't give a damn what they suffer. All you care about is yourself.'" -- Page 261

During the flashback Winston experiences in Book Three, Chapter VI, he sees Julia in a park and talks to her for a brief time about what happened to them in the Miniluv.  I think the quote above really sums up their whole conversation.  By betraying one another in Room 101, they will never think about each other in the same way, because they both truly wanted the other to take their place and experience the fear and pain they were about to face.  Winston reflects on this brief meeting while in the Chestnut Tree Café, where he is now a regular at his corner table, "with the newspaper and the chessboard and the ever-flowing gin."  The Party's complete lack of follow-up surveillance on Winston and his ability to drink bottomless gin and be undercharged shows just how successful O'Brien and the Miniluv were at 'curing' him.  The interrogation and torture that took place while Winston was in the Miniluv comprises most of Book Three, and was in itself captivating.  A large part of the dialogue that takes place during O'Brien and Winston's 'sessions' consists of philosophical and political banter between the two, mostly dominated by O'Brien.  It is through these playful repartees that the values of the Party are fully vocalized, and the extent of the lunacy of O'Brien (or is Winston insane?) is fully realized.  The larger goal was for Winston to a) accept and practice doublethink and crimestop, and b) deny the notion that objective reality exists, that if the Party says 2 + 2 = 5, then it is so.  I think these 'sessions' were meant by Orwell to be the most frightening part of the book, and they certaintly make the reader want to prevent authoritarian governments (and for that matter, given the historical context of world politics during the '40s, i.e. Red Scare, any form of communism).  In other words, George Orwell was pretty cool.

Noooooo! Not Mr. Charrington!

"'We are the dead,' he said.
'We are the dead,' echoed Julia dutifully.
'You are the dead,' said an iron voice behind them."
-- Page 197

First of all, when I read that part I seriously got goosebumps.  Didn't know books could do that to you.  Second, for a book that centers itself around conflict and plot development that is internal, the scene where Winston and Julia are arrested by the Thought Police (and, alas, a biker gang leader-looking Mr. Charrington) is a breath of fresh external conflict air.  In all seriousness, Book Two, Chapter X of 1984 was probably my favorite, because...it contained so many literary terms, of course!  Besides internal and external conflict, there was also a spooky line of foreshadowing on page 194, "She picked the stove up and shook it. 'There's no oil in it.' / 'We can get some from old Charrington, I expect.' / 'The funny thing is I made sure it was full. I'm going to put my clothes on,' she added. 'It seems to have got colder.'"  Creepy, no?  Unfortunately for me, my sister, whose copy of 1984 I'm borrowing to save a quick buck, had highlighted this exerpt in my book, with an arrow and the word FORESHADOWING written in all caps outside the margin.  Thanks for ruining good literature, Kaylee.  I was really disappointed when Mr. Charrington ended up being a leader in the thinkpol because I really liked his character.  Even though it's only Mr. Charrington and O'Brien, because there are so few characters in 1984, it really seems like everyone around Winston ends up not being who he thinks they are.  Even Julia betrays him in the end, but to be fair he betrays her too.  How romantic!

No, Really, WAR IS PEACE.

"The effect would be much the same if the three superstates, instead of fighting one another, should agree to live in perpetual peace, each inviolate within its own boundaries. ... A peace that was truly permanent would be the same as a permanent war. This ... is the inner meaning of the Party slogan: WAR IS PEACE." -- Page 177

The Theory and Practice of Oligarchical Collectivism by Emmanuel Goldstein is probably the only book I've ever read within a book, and I must say that it didn't disappoint.  I would certainly suggest to anyone reading 1984 that he read this section of the novel rather than skip it (as Mr. Costello has allowed classes to do in the past, psh) for two reasons:

1. It gives valuable insight into the reasons for the way Inner and Outer Party members live through the historical background and significance of the wars against Eurasia and Eastasia, thus leading to a more immersed reading of the rest of the novel, and
2. It contains some interestingly deep thoughts on collectivism, corporatism, and, of course, communism, all of which, among others, contain principles that Orwell was trying to prevent by writing of the potential dangers they imposed.

Basically, this is some pretty scary stuff.  In the context of the novel, it's even scarier to realize that this 'heretical' book was written by none other than the Party itself.  Once again, this idea requires doublethink.  For O'Brien, and the others, to have been able to write a book that, to my best judgement, truthfully objects to the values of the Party and lays out substantial reasoning supporting that argument, they had to acknowledge that its sole purpose was to be an entrapment device and that the logic contained therein was unorthodox.  As O'Brien tells Winston later in the Miniluv, regarding the truthiness of the book, it is "[a]s description, yes. The programme it sets forth . . . is nonsense".

Jesus Walks

"We believe that there is some kind of conspiracy, some kind of secret organization working against the Party. We want to join it and work for it. We are enemies of the Party. We disbelieve in the principles of Ingsoc. We are thought-criminals. We are also adulterers. ... If you want us to incriminate ourselves in any other way, we are ready." -- Page 150-151

So at the start of the second half of the book (which I read over Spring Break, mind you), Winston and Julia are visiting O'Brien in his home, discussing the possibility of The Brotherhood and their future places in it.  Naturally, this entire conversation is incredibly ironic now that I've finished the book and know the true nature of O'Brien.  In one specific line O'Brien says to the eager duo, "I think it is fitting that we should begin by drinking a health. To our Leader: To Emmanuel Goldstein."  As I sit here re-reading that, it gives quite the eerie feeling to be honest.  O'Brien wrote the book that expresses the supposed 'views' of Emmanuel Goldstein, so for him to toast to the ideals of a man that he, and others in the Inner Party, created riffles me with doublethink and leads to so much irony looking back.  This scene is also slightly sad to me, because it represents the first time Winston and Julia, together, take responsibility for their thoughtcrimes and declare their personal heresies pertaining to the Party, also together.  The last three words of the above quote, "we are ready" rings as especially pathetic, because neither of them were, in fact, ready for the betrayal that would take place in Room 101.  The confidence displayed in the paragraph where Winston essentially hands himself and Julia over to the Party through a complete confession is almost touching, knowing that at that exact moment the Party was listening and O'Brien's work, seven years in the making, was about to come to fruition.