Gatsby: Stuck in the Past

"Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that's no matter -- to-morrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther. . . . And one fine morning --

So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past" (The Great Gatsby, 180).

Thus ends The Great Gatsby . . . (in your pants).

"So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past." What I wouldn't give to be able to write sentences like that.

The most recent AP prompt asks about the "illuminating incident" of a novel. In Gatsby, it's difficult for me to choose just one illuminating moment, because there are tons of them. You've got the fact that Gatsby is a bootlegger, the death of Myrtle Wilson, the revelation that every single freaking thing that Gatsby does is for Daisy, the moment when Gatsby decides to take the blame for Myrtle's death, and of course, the twin deaths of Gatsby and Wilson. But I'm going to choose just one, and it's going to be . . . wait for it . . .

Gatsby's death. Shocking, I know.

We can't repeat the past. I think that's the major theme of the novel, and Gatsby never gets the hang of that idea. For Gatsby, his passion -- his entire life -- is for that green light, for Daisy Buchanan. But that passion destroys his entire life. Wilson believes (with a little help from the lovely Tom Buchanan) that Gatsby both had an affair with Myrtle AND ran over her with his car. The big irony here is that Gatsby actually didn't do either of those things, but he's dead anyway. And Wilson, too. And also Myrtle.

I want to say more, but everything I say pales in comparison to what Fitzgerald says. That last chapter in which nobody showed up to Gatsby's funeral seriously got to me. Anyway, here's a creepy picture of the eyes of Dr. T. J. Eckleberg:

Gatsby: Always Watching

"'I spoke to her,' he muttered, after a long silence. 'I told her she might fool me but she couldn't fool God. I took her to the window' -- with an effort he got up and walked to the rear window and leaned with his face pressed against it -- 'and I said "God knows what you've been doing, everything you've been doing. You may fool me, but you can't fool God!"'

Standing behind him, Michaelis saw with a shock that he was looking at the eyes of Doctor T. J. Eckleburg, which had just emerged, pale and enormous, from the dissolving night.

'God sees everything,' repeated Wilson" (The Great Gatsby, 159-160).

Honest to God, this part made me tear up almost as much as the last few pages of the book. In my humble opinion, Wilson is the most sympathetic character in the whole novel. Poor guy.

Back at the beginning of chapter two, I knew that the eyes of Dr. T. J. Eckleberg would be an important symbol. After I read page 23, I wrote in my notebook, "symbolic of being observed constantly?"

At this point, we know that the eyes of Dr. T. J. Eckleberg stand for God. These huge eyes witness some of the most crucial points within the story, including the death of Myrtle Wilson. These huge eyes watch the characters engage in adulterous affairs with one another. But all those eyes can do is watch -- they don't step in and interfere with the characters' free will. They're just watching -- always watching.

Reminds me of a certain character from Monsters Inc. Ah, yes:

Gatsby: A Feel-Good Story

"'Wreck!' said Tom. 'That's good. Wilson'll have a little business at last'" (The Great Gatsby, 137).

It's one of those books that gives you a warm and fuzzy feeling once you've finished. Okay, maybe not.

But there's plenty of humor! I'm into dark humor that makes me laugh and writhe around simultaneously, and this quote is an excellent example of what I like to read. Wilson's wife has just been hit by a car, but all that Tom knows is that there's a crowd of people and cars around his gas station. Here, Fitzgerald achieves dark humor through dramatic irony. The audience knows that Myrtle has died, and Tom has no idea that he has just said one of the most insensitive things that could have come out of his mouth.

But that's certainly not the only time I got the giggles! I particularly enjoy when Nick realizes, "'No . . . I just remembered that today's my birthday'" (135). At first, it seems like a juxtaposition of a celebratory event with the catastrophic events of the day. So I laughed when I read that part. But once Nick starts to follow up on his birthday comment, I start to realize that to him, turning thirty just adds to the list of catastrophic events. He has a little mid-life crisis: "Thirty -- the promise of a decade of loneliness, a thinning list of single men to know, a thinning briefcase of enthusiasm, thinning hair" (135). At that point, it isn't really all that funny anymore -- it just ends up being really sad.

Gatsby: New York, New York

"Tom and Gatsby, Daisy and Jordan and I, were all Westerners, and perhaps we possessed some deficiency in common which made us subtly unadaptable to Eastern life" (The Great Gatsby, 176).

Earlier, I briefly described West Egg and East Egg as foil settings. But there's another pair of settings that I also think is noteworthy: the "West" (referring to the Midwest) and the "East" (referring to New York).

The East is a place of opportunity. Gatsby's father mentions that "'Jimmy always liked it better down East. He rose up to his position in the East'" (168). The East is also where Nick goes to learn the bond business. For the novel's main characters, the East is a destination, a place where anything can happen. One of the greatest songs ever:

The West is a place of memories (specifically for Nick, Daisy, and Gatsby). Nick recalls blissfully "the thrilling returning trains of [his] youth" (176). The West is where Daisy and Gatbsy fell in love for the first time. For the novel's main characters, the West is a place of the past.

The quote at the beginning of my post refers to a "deficiency" that Tom, Gatsby, Daisy, Jordan, and Nick have in common. I believe that deficiency is their tendency to cling to the past, a tendency that pretty much everyone in the world shares. The novel's main conflict, the love between Gatsby and Daisy, is based completely on the past. A primary theme in the novel is that everyone tends to hold on to their past, and in the novel, the West seems to stand for the past.

Gatsby: Money, Money, Money

"'She's got an indiscreet voice,' I remarked. 'It's full of --' I hesitated.

'Her voice is full of money,' he said suddenly" (The Great Gatsby, 120).

That's definitely one of my favorite lines of the novel: "her voice is full of money."

Matthew commented on one of my earlier posts to suggest that The Great Gatsby satirizes the attitudes of the wealthy. To some extent, I think that's true. The mentality and behavior of the wealthy characters in the novel are certainly . . . strange. Take the above quote. We know that Gatsby stole Daisy's heart under false pretenses -- he pretended to be someone he wasn't -- but why was Gatsby so attracted to Daisy? I don't think we can attribute their relationship entirely to money, but I can't help but think that if Daisy weren't so rich, Gatsby wouldn't have gone for her.

Gatsby places high value on wealth. "To young Gatz, resting on his oars and looking up at the railed deck, that yacht represented all the beauty and glamour in the world" (100). And Gatsby isn't alone -- Daisy, Tom, Jordan, Wolfsheim, and many other minor characters center their lives around money. Nick's tone throughout the story is occasionally sarcastic, and in general, he's critical of the rich mentality. "I disapproved of him [Gatsby] from beginning to end" (154). I agree with Matthew; to a certain extent, this novel is satirical, and the author wants to steer us away from the mentality of the wealthy.

Gatsby: Cute or Creepy?

"'They're such beautiful shirts,' she sobbed, her voice muffled in the thick folds. 'It makes me sad because I've never seen such -- such beautiful shirts before'" (The Great Gatsby, 92).

Haha, what? This whole reunification scene in chapter five is very interesting. Hmm, maybe "awkward" is a better word.

First of all, Gatsby acts like a teenager when he has Jordan and Nick set him up with Daisy without actually talking to her. Then, after Nick says he will arrange a meeting between Gatsby and Daisy, Gatsby responds by offering Nick a job. Then, the day of the meeting, Gatsby gets stage fright, and when Nick walks into his house bringing Daisy, Gatsby had fled the living room. And then he decides to make it even more awkward by knowing offhand that they hadn't seen each other for "five years next November" (87). Poor Nick has to give him a pep talk!

Then, after about half an hour, Nick returns to the living room to see Daisy's face "smeared in tears" and Gatsby "glowing" with joy (89). "After his embarrassment and his unreasoning joy he was consumed with wonder at her presence" (91-2). They get absorbed in each other's materialism when Daisy cries over his nice shirts and then adores his yacht. Perhaps the most entertaining part is when Nick becomes their chaperon. "I tried to go then, but they wouldn't hear of it; perhaps my presence made them feel more satisfactorily alone" (94).

As I finish the first half of the novel, I'm not quite sure where this relationship is going to head. It has weird foundations in mutual wealth and materialism, and they remember each other fondly from a brief meeting five years ago. I mean, in my mind, there's no way this is going to turn out well for either one of them.

Speaking of Gatsby's deepest secrets, here's an xkcd picture I like. I think I used it for Never Let Me Go, but it really fits the wealthy characters in this novel, too. Behind Gatsby's countenance is his crazy longing for Daisy Buchanan. I like him -- he seems more modest and casual than the other wealthy characters, but his obsession with Daisy is a little creepy, and there's no doubt that he's materialistic, as well.

Gatsby: Some Help from Google

". . . I was standing beside his bed and he was sitting up between the sheets, clad in his underwear, with a great portfolio in his hands.

'Beauty and the Best . . . Loneliness . . . Old Grocery Horse . . . Brook'n Bridge . . .'" (The Great Gatsby, 38).

Fitzgerald adds quite a few allusions that gracefully place this novel in the Jazz Age. There are references to powerful figures like Morgan and Rockefeller. In Tom's apartment, copies of Town Tattle are on the table at a time when tabloids were becoming very popular (29). The orchestra at Gatsby's mansion plays a song called Jazz History of the World (49). My "things I learned in APUSH" label is slowly but surely climbing up my list of labels.

But what the crap is this at the end of chapter two? Is it even an allusion? I realize that at this point, Nick is completely wasted.  He says that this was the second and final time he ever got drunk, which I think just makes his character more sympathetic (29). But I'd still like to know what he's talking about here. Ready? I'm going to google this quote and see what comes up; hopefully, I can find enough information to do my blog justice.

Oh, I see -- most people seem to think that Nick put Mr. McKee to bed, and the "great portfolio" has pictures in it. Likely, the titles of the pictures are "Beauty and the Beast," "Loneliness," "Old Grocery Horse," and "Brook'n Bridge." That's not very exciting, and if they're allusions, I don't get them. "Brook'n Bridge" kind of sounds like "broken bridge," which could refer to Myrtle's nose.

Gatsby: The Green Light

"Involuntarily I glanced seaward -- and distinguished nothing except a single green light, minute and far way, that might have been the end of a dock" (The Great Gatsby, 21).

After Nick's comically horrible dinner party in East Egg, he sees Mr. Gatsby alone outside of his mansion stretching his arms out toward the water and trembling. All that Nick sees is a green light across the water, which I decided must be a symbol for something! For Gatsby, the green light represented something for which he was hoping, searching, and yearning. Or, you know, someone.

Chapter four presents Jordan Baker's little frame story that unites all of Nick's previous anecdotes. Jordan tells Nick, "Well, about six weeks ago, she heard the name Gatsby for the first time in years" (77). That was back in the dinner party from chapter one when Jordan brought up the name Gatsby, someone she knew from West Egg. Jordan also tells Nick, "Then he [Gatsby] began asking people casually if they knew her, and I was the first one he found" (79). That was back in chapter three when Gatsby secretly spoke to Jordan, leaving Nick alone to observe Gatsby's inebriated guests.

Jay Gatsby and Daisy Fay shared a brief special connection in the past but then went their separate ways. When they reunite in chapter five, Mr. Gatsby tells Daisy, "'You always have a green light that burns all night at the end of your dock'" (92). Nick eloquently notes, "His count of enchanted objects had diminished by one" (93). Even though years passed, Gatsby has maintained his (slightly creepy) wonder and appreciation for Daisy Buchanan.

I think this is an important theme in the novel about the obsession of the determined heart of man. "No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man will store up in his ghostly heart" (96).

Gatsby: Introducing the Rich People

"I lived at West Egg, the -- well, the less fashionable of the two, though this is a most superficial tag to express the bizarre and not a little sinister contrast between them" (The Great Gatsby, 5).

The two dueling settings in The Great Gatsby are East Egg and West Egg. From how Nick describes the two locations, I've decided that East Egg is more fashionable, condescending, lazy, and rich. Let's talk about the Tom and Daisy Buchanan, whom Nick visits in East Egg.

Tom Buchanan is "enormous," "supercilious," "wealthy," and a college football player (5-7). Nick hilariously calls him "one of those men who reach such an acute limited excellence at twenty-one that everything afterward savors of anticlimax" (6). Oh, and he's having an affair with some materialistic married girl named Myrtle.

If I had to choose one word to describe Daisy Buchanan, it would be "insecure." When her daughter was born, Daisy said, "'I'm glad it's a girl. And I hope she'll be a fool -- that's the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool'" (17). That insecurity of hers is clarified quite a bit in chapter four when Jordan tells Nick about the night before Daisy's wedding: "'Tell 'em all Daisy's change' her mine. Say: "Daisy's change' her mine!"'" (76). Her relationship with Tom is very weak, but she really hits it off with Mr. Gatsby.

I've got to finish off with a few more ironies I enjoyed. Tom says, "'Don't believe everything you hear, Nick'" shortly before his wife says, "'We heard it from three people, so it must be true'" (19). I also liked Tom's racist comment that "'we've produced all the things that go to make civilization'" as he lazily enjoys a luxurious meal in a lavish house in a fashionable area, none of which he actually worked for himself (13).

Gatsby: Introducing Nick Carraway

"'Whenever you feel like criticizing any one,' he [my father] told me, 'just remember that all the people in this world haven't had the advantages that you've had'" (The Great Gatsby, 1).

I haven't quite decided whether I should endow Nick Carraway or Mr. Jay Gatsby with the title of "protagonist" quite yet, but Nick is certainly the narrator. This quote from his father -- the idea that "a sense of the fundamental decencies is parcelled out unequally at birth" -- is central to Nick's character. Although the vastly wealthy people around Nick don't behave very respectably, our narrator reserves judgment, which opens him up to the deep secrets of other characters like Mr. Gatsby.

I really like Nick's character, partly due to his modesty. Around his wealthy acquaintances, Nick admits, "'You make me feel uncivilized, Daisy.'" Calling himself uncivilized among a house full of extremely hypocritical, racist, materialistic, and impulsive characters (more on that in my next post) is modest, in addition to being ironic. I'm very fond of Nick's voice; his sarcasm is very witty and thoughtful, and it goes way over the heads of the Buchanans. "'Do you want to hear about the butler's nose?' 'That's why I came over to-night'" (13).

One of Nick's iffy spots would probably be his incredulity. "He [Gatsby] looked at me sideways -- and I knew why Jordan Baker had believed he was lying" (65). At one point, he was so disbelieving that he had to restrain laughter at Gatsby's story. But everything becomes true to Nick when he sees physical proof: Gatsby's war medal and picture from Oxford. In my opinion, even his skepticism is likable -- in Nick's defense, he's around a bunch of secretive wealthy people, so being suspicious is no crime.

Fun fact: this Christmas, while Leonardo DiCaprio will be portraying Mr. Gatsby, Tobey Maguire will be taking the role Nick Carraway in The Great Gatsby! Your friendly neighborhood Spiderman.

Sympathy and Fire

"Fear not that I shall be the instrument of future mischief. My work is nearly complete. Neither yours nor any man's death is needed to consummate the series of my being, and accomplish that which must be done; but it requires my own" (Frankenstein, 165-66).

Even though the creature brings about quite a few deaths, I still feel sympathy for him ("No sympathy may I ever find," he says on page 164). He wants "pardon" from Frankenstein who is, of course, dead because of his own creation, and he points out that "[his] agony was superior to [Victor's]" (166). I think it's fair to say that the creature is a sympathetic character torn apart by mankind, "wrenched by misery to vice and hatred" (164). I just wanted to present my case for the creature as a sympathetic character. He definitely seems hypocritical when he comes back for pardon; however, I really think that a quarter of the novel was dedicated to the creature's story so that we could see his thought process and realize that he's not intrinsically evil.

Speaking of the creature's thought process, I'm going to revive chapter eleven where the creature begins to explain his learning curve:

"One day, when I was oppressed by cold, I found a fire which had been left by some wandering beggars, and was overcome with delight at the warmth I experienced from it. In my joy I thrust my hand into the live embers, but quickly drew it out again with a cry of pain" (72).

This scene was brought to mind as I read about the creature's plan to kill himself -- to "consume to ashes this miserable frame," to set himself on fire (166). The creature says that his sorrow only increases with knowledge. It makes complete sense to me, then, that the creature's last action should contradict one of the first pieces of knowledge he acquires. Once the creature ignores the knowledge he has required by subjecting himself to fire, his sorrow will dissipate, and he will finally find rest.

I Can't Believe it's Not Butter

"I like to use 'I Can't Believe it's Not Butter' on my toast in the morning, because sometimes when I eat breakfast, I like to be incredulous" (Demitri Martin).

Wait, does my quote have to be from the novel?

"He had heard my story with that half kind of belief that is given to a tale of spirits and supernatural events" (Frankenstein, 148).

This moment in the novel is significant because it's the first time Victor relates his story to anyone. He intended to tell Elizabeth, but that didn't really work out for him, so this is when we get to see what people actually think of his story.

Back during Justine's trial, Victor worried that he would "proclaim [himself] a madman" if he related his story (60). The magistrate actually doesn't take Victor to be crazy -- and if he does, he understates the matter, because he just calls Victor "mistaken" (148). The magistrate listens to the story as if it's half true and half fictional, and almost like it's a fairy tale. Victor responds in a very manly ways by calling the magistrate "ignorant" and running away angrily (149).

I think this interchange puts a whole new meaning on cleaning -- I mean, a whole new meaning on isolation. Both Victor and the creature experience extreme loneliness and rejection over the course of the novel. Here, Victor expresses his story to a magistrate who has the power to search for the creature, but the magistrate decides not to put his whole force behind Victor because he can't believe it's not butter. In other words, the magistrate doesn't really believe Victor, so Victor feels even more isolated, and the only person he really has left is Ernest, and he's, like, not even a real character.

Double Facepalm

"In the mean time I took every precaution to defend my person, in case the fiend should openly attack me. I carried pistols and a dagger constantly about me, and was ever on the watch to prevent artifice; and by these means gained a greater degree of tranquility" (Frankenstein, 142).

But that tranquility was short lived, wasn't it?

Victor reflects upon the creature's haunting words, "I shall be with you on your wedding-night." And now that I see the quote right in front of my face, I realize I could have included it with my foreshadowing examples, but this example doesn't take much analysis to discover.

He believes that the creature will kill him, which he is surprisingly okay with -- "the prospect did not move me to fear" (123). Maybe it's not all that surprising if we consider Victor's wretched life. But he really worries about how Elizabeth would react, so he takes some precautions to make sure she'll be physically and emotionally safe. On Victor's wedding night, "I earnestly intreated her to retire," and he looked around for the creature. He wasn't anywhere to be found until the "shrill and dreadful scream" (144).

My small group decided today that this was an instance of situational irony. Victor expects the creature to murder him, and he expects that telling Elizabeth to leave him will help her, but in reality, the creature ends up going straight for Elizabeth. The creature doesn't want to injure or kill Victor; he wants to wound him emotionally, because that's where Victor is most vulnerable. (I predicted this last week, right? It might have been obvious, but I'm still going to glorify myself for that one!)

Can anyone tell me what foreshadowing is?

"Pardon this gush of sorrow; these ineffectual words are but a slight tribute to the unexampled worth of Henry, but they soothe my heart, overflowing with the anguish which his remembrance creates" (Frankenstein, 114).

Monday night, I read about how Clerval's presence in England affects Victor. Perhaps Frankenstein would rather be alone in England, but Henry could act as a shield "between [Victor] and the intrusion of [his] foe," which is always handy (111). Also, compared to Victor's gloominess, Henry is always "joyful," and Victor appreciates his "devoted and wondrous friendship" (113). So when I first read the quote above, I was confused why Victor felt sorrowful and didn't realize until later that it was foreshadowing!

Sure enough, Victor finds Clerval "strangled" by the creature, just like William was strangled (128).

Wait, I have one more! "Those were the last moments of my life during which I enjoyed the feeling of happiness," says Victor right after his wedding (142). Since the audience know that Victor survives and ends up on Walton's ship, we know that he can't be referring to his future death; the one that would make the most sense would be Elizabeth's death. And looking ahead two pages, "She was there, lifeless and inanimate, thrown across the bed, her head hanging down, and her pale and distorted features half covered by her hair" (144).

These instances of foreshadowing in the novel build suspense, and they help the reader realize that even though what happened to Victor in the past was horrible, he's still got a ton of crap to go through later on.

Nature vs. Nurture

"Of my creation and creator I was absolutely ignorant, but I knew that I possessed no money, no friends, no kind of property" (Frankenstein, 85).

Thematic blog!

I already mentioned last week that the creature believes he is good by nature and evil by nurture. Chapters thirteen and fifteen deal with a lot of that nurture, and I think the creature makes a convincing argument.

The quote above is vital to understanding the creature's characterization. His countenance is nothing to brag about, but he reveals more here about what's going on internally. From everything Felix teaches Safie, the creature learns that men value "high and unsullied descent united with riches" (85), and that assessment doesn't make me proud to be a man. The creature has nothing that humans value -- no good looks, no powerful family, no vast wealth, and accordingly, no friends. Later, the creature attributes his behavior to his rejection and isolation, and unlike some of my classmates (Maximilian Browning), I feel sorry for him.

Later, the creature learns about "death and suicide" from Sorrows of Werter, "ancient republics" from Lives, and "Adam" and "Satan" from Paradise Lost (91-92). He notes that "sorrows only increased with knowledge" (85), which seems like an important theme of the novel. Also increasing with knowledge was the creature's nefariousness; William and Justine become his first victims, and he blames his actions on what he learned from mankind (103).

I don't necessarily believe that the creature can justify his actions -- I don't care how "nurtured" he was. No amount of ugliness and loneliness can justify murdering a handful of people. However, I do believe that the creature makes an interesting comment on the history of mankind. If we really value goodness and benevolence, our history certainly does a horrible job of living up to those values.

Predictions: The Second Half of Frankenstein (in your pants)

"'If you will comply with my conditions, I will leave them and you at peace; but if you refuse, I will glut the maw of death, until it be satiated with the blood of your remaining friends'" (Frankenstein, 68).

No amount of humor or eloquence can abolish my opinion that this creature is evil. I'm not blaming it on him, but you can't expect to say the phrase "satiated with the blood of your remaining friends" and evoke any pity.

Traditionally*, I make predictions at the halfway point of a novel and then see how did after I finish the entire story. There's analysis to back up most of these predictions! I'm basing these mostly on the fact that I think the creature has very human qualities (sympathy, humor, eloquence, etc.) but somehow definitely winds up evil. Let's go!

• The creature murdered William; somehow, he acquired the knowledge that some of Victor's friends are dead, and he was totally at the crime scene a few weeks later.
• Victor will not be open to the creature's story; there's this natural revulsion that Victor feels toward the creature, and I don't think anything will sway him to feel bad for the creature.
• The creature will kill Elizabeth; my only real support for this prediction is that if Elizabeth dies, Victor will be twenty times the hot mess he is now, and that would make for a great plot twist.
• The creature's intelligence will surpass that of Frankenstein (if it hasn't already); we need some sort of explanation for why the creature ends up being pulled by dogs to the North Pole, and his working vocabulary is already massive.

*Traditionally: I did it for Brave New World (in your pants) and Never Let Me Go (from your pants).

I ought to be thy Adam!

"My heart, which was before sorrowful, now swelled with something like joy; I exclaimed -- 'Wandering spirits, if indeed ye wander, and do not rest in  your narrow beds, allow me this faint happiness, or take me, as your companion, away from the joys of life.'

As I said this, I suddenly beheld the figure of a man, at some distance, advancing towards me with superhuman speed" (Frankenstein, 67-8).

The timing here is just hysterical.

This quote goes along with the idea of destiny throughout the story. No matter how much Victor tries to escape, fate has a monopoly on his life. I noticed this earlier when Victor temporarily abandons his scientific studies -- he says, "Destiny was too potent, and her immutable laws had decreed my utter and terrible destruction" (23). Now, in chapter ten, Frankenstein might as well say, "Fates, if you really hate me this much, take away my happiness right . . . now!" So they did.

Victor believes that his only destiny is to be unhappy, which makes perfect sense considering the hell he's been through. He puts down the science books for a while, he returns to his family in Geneva, and he takes a little trip through the mountains after Justine's death, but his only happiness is ever temporary. We discussed in class how "nature vs. nurture" applies to the creature, that Victor believes the creature is evil by nature but the creature believes he is evil by nurture. I think we can apply the same idea to Victor. His natural qualities of curiosity and work ethic help elicit his "remorse" and "guilt" by this point in the story (61). Frankenstein presents a theme that I don't necessarily agree with, that destiny is unavoidable.

By the by, I haven't quite decided if the creature's eloquent rhetoric is a reversal of expectations or not. Perhaps there's no situational irony. Before Victor agrees to hear the creature's story, he calls him "vile insect," "abhorred monster," and "wretched devil" (68), but he has yet to say something like, "Hast thou seriously acquired thine mastery of language from the likes of three destitute neighbors? And as thou knowest all by means of observation, whence did you learn how to pee?" (Thanks to Louise for that thought-provoking notion.)

Remorse, Horror, Despair, and Serial Commas

"'I truly thank him. In these last moments I feel the sincerest gratitude towards those who think of me with kindness. How sweet is the affection of others to such a wretch as I am! It removes more than half my misfortune; and I feel as if I could die in peace, now that my innocence is acknowledged by you, dear lady, and your cousin'" (Frankenstein, 59).

As if I'm not already queasy at the notion of the deaths of two innocent characters, this quote hits me right in the groin. Metaphorically. Also, it's an example of dramatic irony.

In her letter to Victor, Elizabeth describes Justine's character as "clever" and "gentle" (42). In her testimony during the trial, Elizabeth describes her further as "amiable and benevolent" (56). Justine is so good natured and innocent that her ironic quote above kindles ghastly anguish in Victor.

Victor feels partly -- scratch that, entirely -- responsible for the deaths of William and Justine. He knows that "the filthy daemon to whom [he] had given life," not Justine, is William's murderer (50). Only he and the audience have this information; Justine merely knows that she is innocent and will never know that Victor's creature is guilty.

Therefore, when she expresses her gratitude toward Victor (who believes wholeheartedly in Justine's innocence), from her perspective, it's just another example of her benevolence. However, Victor and the audience know that the only reason he knows of Justine's innocence is that Victor knows his own creation murdered William. The discrepancy between Justine's perception and Victor's reality invigorates the "remorse, horror, and despair" he feels. (See how Victor uses the serial comma? Good man.)

Also, William and Justine are "the first hapless victims to my unhallowed arts" (60)? "Good God," indeed.

Miscontextualizing Quotes

"Nothing contributes so much to tranquilize the mind as a steady purpose -- a point on which the soul may fix its intellectual eye" (Frankenstein, 2).

Bear with me in this post! Ideally, I'm making a good point.

I feel that this is the kind of quote that can get someone into trouble. Lots of people like to yank a quote out of a book and put it on their refrigerators and Tweet it and whatnot, even when the quote is at odds with the real thematic message of the novel -- here's an example of what I mean:

"The line is, 'What is the point of being alive if you don't at least try to do something remarkable?' Which I'll admit I did write in this book, but as anyone who's read it knows, I was kidding. That's something Colin Singleton, the main character in the book who's kind of a child prodigy, says at the beginning of the book, and he must spend the entire book learning it's bull" (John Green on people Tweeting and miscontextualizing a quote from his novel An Abundance of Katherines). Full video:

(By the way, if anyone wants to find and buy Holden Caulfield's hat for me, I wouldn't mind at all.)

Back to Frankenstein. Initially, I read that quote about having a "steady purpose" at the beginning of the novel, proceeded to salivate, and wrote it down on my note-taking guide because I thought it was a great quote. Don't get me wrong -- I still think it's a great quote if we understand what Shelley means by a "steady purpose" -- but taken out of context, it's a horrible reflection of the novel. This is what Victor says later on:

"A human being in perfection ought always to preserve a calm and peaceful mind, and never to allow passion or a transitory desire to disturb his tranquility. I do not think that the pursuit of knowledge is an exception to this rule" (34).

Victor sheds a completely new light on the theme of tranquility through his anecdotal account of reanimating a corpse. Walton says that purpose tranquilizes the mind, but Victor expands on that idea by saying that too heavy a passion can actually disturb one's tranquility.

If you want to Tweet Walton's quote about having a steady purpose, by all means, go ahead. But don't blame me if you wake up to a giant creature grinning at you and reaching out to you in your bedroom.

Thus!

"I have no friend, Margaret: when I am glowing with the enthusiasm of success, there will be none to participate my joy; if I am assailed by disappointment, no one will endeavour to sustain me in dejection. I shall commit my thoughts to paper, it is true; but that is a poor medium for the communication of feeling. I desire the company of a man who could sympathize with me; whose eyes would reply to mine" (Frankenstein, 4).

Aww.

Robert Walton, the author of the four letters, directly characterizes himself. He describes himself as "cool, preserving, and prudent," not humbly but rather candidly (7). That makes sense, as he's writing to his sister Margaret Saville, with whom he evidently has a healthy and trusting relationship. However, Walton's problem is that beyond his sister in London, he has no true friends; in the above quote, he directly characterizes himself as lonely by saying he desires "the company of a man" (4). He is also passionate and strong in will; "success shall crown my endeavors" (7).

What do you know? This exhausted European guy (almost reluctantly) comes aboard Walton's ship and reveals he has the same loneliness and the same passion as Walton. Actually, their characters coalesce perfectly. Walton calls the stranger -- let's call him, say, Victor -- "the brother of my heart" (11). He finds a friend, signalling that no matter how isolated someone may feel, he should never abandon the idea that his loneliness may be solved via a complete stranger who comes aboard his ship and feel just as isolated as he does. Metaphorically, of course.

Then, at the end of the fourth letter, Walton commences the frame story structure of the novel. Walton resolves to record "what he has related during the day," so the story shifts from Walton's point of view to Victor's point of view. We can infer that Victor's tale will be one of caution: "I imagine that you may deduce an apt moral from my tale; one that may direct you if you succeed in your undertaking, and console you in case of failure" (13).