Monday, September 28, 2009

It's hard to say at what point a book can really grab my attention and reel me in, seldom letting me loose. Though it has yet to happen with Frankenstein, I can already see it coming. There was something about those six letters from Robert Walton to his sister that had after a few readings gotten me intrigued. The writing style of Mary Shelley is obviously not what I look for in an author but something about her delivery and philosophical mindset she has put into the main character of Dr. Frankenstein has kept me wanting more and more to dive in and see if perhaps our protagonist will follow in the footsteps of our previous protagonist, Ambrosio, who was corrupted more and more through the story of The Monk. Surprisingly I'm not familiar with the story of Frankenstein. Not to say I don't know of his monster through its many interpretations via films, television, etc. but the doctor himself is a stranger to me.
To me, the story has a theme not so evident but I expect it to become clearer if my prediction is right. The theme, I believe, is that of rise and fall. Specifically that of having a power never felt before. Of being as close to God as one can get. In the third chapter, Dr. Frankenstein is shown, by his friend, a professor named M. Waldman, the science of animation. Of bringing life into something that has ceased to hold it. From the first chapter to the second chapter, Dr. Frankenstein is already dramatically changing his viewpoints, now being a firm believer and follower of natural philosophy and now in the third familiarizing himself with the science of life before death before rebirth. "To examine the causes of life, we must first have recourse to death," (30) narrates our main character. From there he studies night, day, season after season all to bring life in a mortal previously deceased.
Reading on as Victor Frankenstein prides himself over his creation and his ability to put life into human, I began to fear that he may become pompous over what he has done, and thus begin to dislike his character, but it becomes a mixture of emotions both with Frankenstein and the reader. Frankenstein is no sooner shocked and n awe of himself that he begins to regret what he has done, disowning his monster as his monster communicates with him just as any neighbor of his could. It's clear to see Frankenstein's monster's love for him during a particular argument in which his monster is fighting to stay with his creator and ultimately accepting his fate, saying, "Thus I relieve thee, my creator...thus I take from thee a sight which you abhor. Still thou canst listen to me, and grant me thy compassion," (67). Just as I reread these passages I am drawn closer and closer to the characters in the book, sympathizing with a man-made creature that our protagonist has no respect for.
I'm looking forward to reading more at this point and watching the relationship with Frankenstein and his monster presumably grow and Frankenstein's outlook on what he held so close becoming nothing but a past notion to him.

Sunday, September 27, 2009

Transgendering in the Monk

If not at first going into The Monk by Matthew Lewis with the knowledge of its themes (i.e. hypocrisy, self-control, and transgendering) it may be hard to determine the undertones of the latter, transgendering. You could read through the book twice over even and still not be able to pull out what is hinting at such a heavy topic. Transgendering, though, is clear to see if told about it prior to reading the novel. Such clues leading to the theme are stated boldly in the essay Transgendering in The Monk. William D. Brewer does an excellent job of pointing out the most obscure along with surprisingly obvious moments aiming at the theme. The essay, while not always smoothly pulling you in, is still written with the multiple facts that could make someone want to go back, read the novel again, and find their own interpretations of events in the story that ultimately lead to the theme of transgendering, seeing as Brewer had been able to find numerous key points highlighting it. Before he really pulls into the theme of transgendering itself, though, Brewer first analyzes Lewis' own view point on the female his "contradictory tendency to make sexist generalizations," (194).
Lewis has, along with transgendering, brought up another controversial issue for its time and that is that of the female and her superiority played out in the novel. Two main characters especially, have played a large part in that specific theme. The characters of Agnes and Marguerite, though given at first an outlook very sexist but arguably appropriate for the time the novel was released, eventually come out with a positive outcome at some point, being reunited with the ones they love and finding happiness. Brewer extends from this the major theme of his essay, quoting from chapter one, Ambrosio's lack of knowledge on the difference between a man and woman, being sheltered as he was his entire life. The reader could go back, reading that and think to themselves that this was a clear foreshadow.
He continues with the story of Ambrosio, our main character, and Matilda, a woman who disguised herself as a man to be given access to the monastery. Brewer states that as much as "Matilda's masculinity disturbs Ambrosio, he misses Rosario." He shows us the irony in this in that Matilda is better at being a masculine woman than a masculine man, and Ambrosio is attracted to the more feminine Rosario. Brewer then takes us back to the theme branching from transgendering, being the superiority of the female over the male. With this comes the story of Don Raymond and the bleeding nun.
Don Raymond, finding love in a woman, Agnes, who he has been forbidden to love by her brother Lorenzo, is shown to come out as another man being the weaker of a party of two. For Agnes to be able to elope with Don Raymond, the two decide that the best thing to do is to disguise Agnes as the Bleeding Nun, an entity feared and avoided by the people around them. Although the plan goes awry when the Bleeding Nun is actually the one found in Don Raymond's arms. Now with the Bleeding Nun "[proving] herself even more powerful," (203) Don Raymond has lost a position noted as common in the relationship between a man and woman of that era.
Brewer doesn't stop there of course and as said before has shown readers of the novel The Monk just how much they may have easily missed in such a heavy theme.