In trying to convince a reader of a
point, an author of fiction has markedly different tools at his or her disposal
than those of an author of nonfiction. While the nonfiction writer relies upon
the essay, the article, and real facts or experiences to illustrate, defend,
and argue, the nonfiction writer has to illustrate the point in question for
the reader to see in context. Admittedly, while obviousness, clarity, and
outright stating what one means to say are completely necessary in crafting an
argumentative essay, such stylistic choices in fiction, if done tastelessly,
merely leave an impression of heavy handedness concerning the moral or theme of
a piece. An essayist might state that “stealing is wrong” and then continue to
quantify his statement without so much as a pause from a reader. A writer of
fiction, however, would appear to have several more options to convey this
idea. The author might choose to simply state “stealing is wrong” in their
narration of events or have a character, designated truth dispenser or not,
tell another character, designated violator of truth or not, that “stealing is
wrong,” and then subsequently explain with quantifiable and logical points why
“stealing is wrong.” Beyond such technical devices that the writer shares with the
essayist, there also exist narrative illustrations of the point in action. The
writer, playing the god of his tiny microcosm of his perception or idealization
of reality and morality, might portray a character stealing, and subsequently
portray said thief being caught and promptly punished for his transgression of
the central theme “stealing is wrong.” The author has a choice of how much time
he or she wishes to devote to either telling the reader “stealing is wrong” or
showing the reader “stealing is wrong.” Admittedly, a piece of fiction is not
particularly interesting should it be too devoted to either side of the sliding
scale of showing versus telling. It is difficult to find a masterfully crafted
tale devoted entirely to telling and explaining to a reader a thesis or a deeply
impactful fable completely lacking any theme whatsoever. In the case of Mary
Shelley’s Frankenstein in particular,
Shelley takes steps to blend the showing and telling to both illustrate her
theme and impress value upon her horrific tale of one man’s aspirations gone
too far. One particularly interesting example of this blending occurs as
Shelley details the notably gruesome process of constructing the monster. The
complex attitude of negativity and opposition to the sacrifices made by Victor
von Frankenstein at this point in the novel is only fully realized with a
blending of technical choices in persuasive description and compelling
decisions in narrative pacing and placing.
Narratively, Shelley places the
entirety of the passage and narrative as a whole inside of Frankenstein’s
experience Technically, Shelley controls the tone of the piece by devoting
great energy into generating a feeling of negativity from the steps
Frankenstein took in fabricating a scaled up human. Very specific wording is
given and is used to describe the nature of Frankenstein’s work. Instead of
calling his toils steps to a greater end, Shelly notes them as “horrors,”
involving the “bones” of the dead, as disturbed by “profane fingers.” Instead
of evoking the images of a sterile, clean facility to study cadavers, Shelley
refers to the “dissecting room” and “slaughter-house,” seemingly comparing the
study of human remains to gruesome animal butchery. In terms of pacing, two
thirds of the passage are devoted to the description of the profane act, double
the length of the section outlining Frankenstein’s hopes for the project. Not
that those hopes really outweigh the negative implications of his actions, for
Shelley also, in terms of plot, completely denies any possible benefits of
Frankenstein’s creation. Bringing a “torrent of light into our dark world” is
somewhat difficult when no one in the world except Frankenstein knows of his
experiment’s existence, let alone success. Frankenstein himself admits that
raising the dead is impossible as far as he could tell. He cannot even claim
the glory of another race as he denies his creation the means to reproduce. Of
particular note also, is that Frankenstein is disposed to retell the experience
only after experiencing the death of everyone he cared for at the hands of the
brute, hardly likely to positively affect the interpretation of spending months
at work in poor health and lonely environment.
Such considerations were surely on
Shelley’s mind as she thought how best to evoke only the greatest feelings of
disgust and dread in such a passage. However, the piece does seem to lean
towards the telling side of the scale. An interesting venture might be
attempting to convey the same horror and disgust without having the voice say
the phrases “horror” or “tortured” in distilled shots of emotion. Perhaps a
Poe-esque portrayal in a Poe-esque short story type.
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