Gris Grimly's Frankenstein

“As I stood at the door, on a sudden I beheld a stream of fire issue from an old and beautiful oak, which stood about twenty yards from our house; and so soon as the dazzling light vanished, the oak had disappeared, and nothing remained but a blasted stump. I never beheld anything so utterly destroyed”

Light and darkness strike a complex contrast throughout the story, and the fire of the oak tree foreshadows Frankenstein’s use of lightning to give life to his creation, as well as the fire that burns within the monster. Impressed by the lightning’s power, Frankenstein does not heed the ominous warning of the tree’s destruction, which Gris Grimly underscores with an illustration of a smoking stump.

“The more fully I entered into the science, the more exclusively I pursued it for its own sake. That application now became so ardent and eager, that the stars often disappeared in the light of morning whilst I was yet engaged in my laboratory.”

Frankenstein does not learn the error of his ways until it is too late, immersing himself in his work in his ambition to master life and death. As he neglects his loved ones, he also fails to take care of himself—he already looks disheveled in the illustration that accompanies this passage—and obsession drives him to illness and eventual death.

“To examine the causes of life, we must first have recourse to death.”

Frankenstein’s beliefs about life and death prove true, as the novel continuously blurs the line between these two states of being: Frankenstein seeks to create life but in doing so leaves a trail of death and destruction. In Gris Grimly’s Frankenstein, this statement appears as part of a spread that embodies the motif. Frankenstein’s discourse on the nature of life appears against a light but static background that contains sketches reminiscent of an anatomy textbook; the opposite page uses a black background and shows grisly but animated scenes of Frankenstein working with bones and other body parts.

“No one can conceive the variety of feelings which bore me onwards, like a hurricane, in the first enthusiasm of success.”

In Shelley’s simile, Frankenstein compares his total absorption in his work to one of earth’s most powerful storms. The presence of a storm during the onset of darkness in Frankenstein’s life is symbolically significant, as storms often symbolize wild emotions, danger, and conflict.

“[O]ften did my human nature turn with loathing from my occupation.”

Frankenstein admits that his own conscience did call out to him as he worked, but he ignored it amid The Need for Purpose. Frankenstein takes his first step to becoming a monster in his grave-robbing, and illustrations of skulls, intestines, and severed limbs underscore the gruesome nature of his laboratory work.

“His yellow skin scarcely covered the work of muscles and arteries beneath; his hair was of a lustrous black, and flowing; his teeth of a pearly whiteness.”

Shelley’s imagery is bold and grotesque as Frankenstein’s monster comes to life, and Grimly’s illustrations accentuate it; he includes a close-up of the monster’s “yellow eye” and depicts his mouth as gaping open, his teeth on prominent display. Frankenstein responds to the sight by fleeing without even giving it a moment’s thought or attempting to understand what he has done. Frankenstein’s decision to run from his own creation speaks to the importance of Taking Responsibility for One’s Choices, as he soon finds out that escape is not possible.

“[N]ow that I had finished, the beauty of the dream vanished, and breathless horror and disgust filled my heart.”

Frankenstein’s attitude toward his work takes a dramatic and instantaneous turn when he completes his project and beholds the result. This is the great irony of the story because Frankenstein’s rejection of his own creation is exactly what leads this creation to destroy Frankenstein’s life.

“I bore a hell within me, which nothing could extinguish.”

The presence of fire as a symbol of rage and grief is constant in the story. Frankenstein feels as though he has entered a personal hell as he watches loved ones die around him—the consequence of his own decisions. This is the cost of his ambition, and it only gets worse for Frankenstein as time goes on and he attempts to evade the monster. Grimly juxtaposes Frankenstein’s words with an illustration of Justine’s death by electrocution, underscoring its connection to Frankenstein’s actions through the motif of fire.

“If the multitude of mankind knew of my existence, they would do as you do, and arm themselves for my destruction. Shall I not then hate them who abhor me?”

While alone in the cold mountains, Frankenstein is confronted by his monster, who explains How Misery Makes a Monster and blames Frankenstein and the world’s rejection for his violent acts. The monster is both a character and a symbol of the way in which loneliness can lead to anger and hatred. Grimly’s illustration of the monster depicts him standing upright, towering over Frankenstein in this moment in a way that lends force to his words.

“For the first time I felt what the duties of a creator towards his creature were.”

As he listens to the monster’s account, Frankenstein realizes that the monster was his responsibility all along. After so many attempts to escape what he created, Frankenstein is confronted with it directly, and feelings of guilt and sympathy develop inside him.

“Of what a strange nature is knowledge! It clings to the mind, when it has once seized on it, like a lichen on the rock.”

Using simile, the monster reflects on the negative side of his learning: to know that others find joy in their love for one another, whereas he is not wanted by the world. This knowledge influences all future thoughts and actions. While he often wishes to be simple and uncaring, he can never return to the place of innocence and naivety that he came from. Shelley’s words are accompanied by an illustration of the monster and Frankenstein speaking by firelight—a symbol of knowledge’s potential both to create and destroy.

“Why did you form a monster so hideous that even you turned from me in disgust?”

The monster points to his creator’s hypocrisy and shortsightedness in his decision to create life and then abandon it. The allegorical undertones of a man angry at God for creating him and then leaving him to suffer through life alone are evident here, which is one of the ways Shelley seeks to elicit the reader’s sympathy for the monster.

“You are in the wrong. I am malicious because I am miserable.”

Using alliteration, the monster explains the nature of his violent acts and his anger toward the creator and humanity at large. He believes it is Frankenstein’s responsibility to provide him with a companion to fend off loneliness, and he temporarily convinces Frankenstein to pity him. In the accompanying illustrations, Frankenstein’s own face at first appears snarling and “monstrous,” underscoring his own moral failures.

“In truth, I was occupied by gloomy thoughts, and neither saw the descent of the evening star, nor the golden sun-rise reflected in the Rhine.”

As Frankenstein attempts to escape his past and forget what plagues him, he finds that his life is filled with misery and he can no longer enjoy all of the beautiful things that once made him happy. The vibrant and joyful imagery of the nature he describes is in direct contrast to his dark and gloomy disposition; in Grimly’s illustrations, he even wears black clothes in contrast to Henry’s red.

“Clerval! Beloved friend! He was a being formed in the ‘very poetry of nature.’”

Frankenstein refers to Henry in the past tense before ever mentioning his death, foreshadowing that Henry will be the next loved one to become the victim of the monster’s revenge. Henry had a particular lust for life that was unextinguishable and that the melancholy Frankenstein relied on. Grimly illustrates this eulogy with a full-page illustration of Henry grinning in a striped suit, emphasizing his larger-than-life personality.

“I saw an insurmountable barrier placed between me and my fellow-men; this barrier was sealed with the blood of William and Justine.”

Frankenstein’s isolation from the world grows as he sinks into grief and loses all of the people he loved. As he focuses exclusively on his pain and his anger toward the monster, what remains of his connection to the world diminishes; in the accompanying illustration, he stares blankly ahead as he walks through a steampunk rendition of London, complete with hybrid hot air balloon/flying machines. The setting lends an ironic touch to his reflections, as Grimly depicts Frankenstein’s scientific experimentation as very much in keeping with the world around him.

“It was indeed a filthy process in which I was engaged. I went to it in cold blood, and my heart often sickened at the work of my hands.”

In attempting to create a second monster to accompany the first, Frankenstein’s attitude and reflections are vastly different than the last time. Where before Frankenstein’s entire being was poured into his work, he now cannot reconcile his conscience with what he is trying to do. He must therefore emotionally disconnect himself from his own project. His reference to “the work of [his] hands” takes on literal significance in the accompanying illustration, as Grimly depicts Frankenstein holding a human skull.

“Had I a right, for my own benefit, to inflict this curse upon everlasting generations?”

Frankenstein considers the possible consequences of creating a second monster. He knows that there is a chance that these two monsters will find a way to procreate and suggests that he would be selfish to risk that for his own personal peace.

“I trembled, and my heart failed within me; when, on looking up I saw, by the light of the moon, the daemon at the casement. A ghastly grin wrinkled his lips as he gazed on me.”

When the monster appears, he is almost always accompanied by a massive, glowing full moon. The moon is a symbol of the fact that Frankenstein cannot outrun his past or his creation. It also serves as a source of imagery that adds to the sense of foreboding that follows Frankenstein wherever he goes.

“You believe yourself miserable, but I can make you so wretched that the light of day will be hateful to you. You are my creator, but I am your master—obey!”

Because he harbors such anger toward Frankenstein, the monster maintains a position of power over his creator. The wording of his threat speaks to the association of light with knowledge throughout Shelley’s novel; figuratively, the monster suggests that he will make Frankenstein recognize what he has done.

“Of what materials was I made, that I could thus resist so many shocks, which, like the turning of the wheel, continually renewed the torture.”

Comparing endless torture to a wheel turning around, Frankenstein marvels at his seemingly unending ability to withstand tragedy in his life—in this case, Henry’s death. In reality, Frankenstein’s mind and body slowly degrade—a process well underway in the accompanying illustrations, where he appears skeletal—and he eventually succumbs to illness and dies. Frankenstein’s reference to the “materials” from which he is “made” is also significant, as it ironically recalls his construction of the monster, drawing the two of them closer together.

“I had been calm during the day; but so soon as night obscured the shapes of objects, a thousand fears arose in my mind.”

Frankenstein’s moods are often directly affected by his physical surroundings, including the difference between night and day. The light and dark motif swings ever further toward the side of darkness as Frankenstein’s last loved ones are lost and he loses all sources of hope. Grimly underscores his distraction in this scene by depicting Elizabeth reclining on a bed in the background; this is the couple’s wedding night, but Frankenstein is scowling out the window, apparently uninterested in his bride.

“Seek happiness in tranquility, and avoid ambition, even if it be only the apparently innocent one of distinguishing yourself in science and discoveries.”

Frankenstein warns Walton, who risks his and his crew’s lives for the sake of discovery, about the cost of unthinking ambition. On his death bed, he considers this the most important lesson of his life and seeks to prevent others from going down the same path as he did. He criticizes the pursuit of scientific inquiry for its own sake, urging Walton to have a wider purpose in life.