Introduction
Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus (1818) stands as a seminal work in English literature, challenging Enlightenment ideals of scientific progress and human dominion over nature. Drawing on Timothy Morton’s observation that the novel “tests these categories to breaking point so that they start to speak their paradoxes and absurdities” (Morton, 2016, pp. 146-147), this essay explores how Frankenstein troubles normative concepts of ‘nature’ and the ‘natural’. Specifically, it focuses on the blurring of boundaries between the human and nonhuman, the natural and unnatural, through Victor Frankenstein’s creation of the creature, the novel’s gendered critiques of scientific usurpation, and the narrative’s persistent dynamic of (re)doubling. By examining textual details such as characterization, imagery, and narration—mediated through Walton’s epistolary frame and the conflicting perspectives of Victor and the creature—this analysis argues that Shelley disrupts romanticised views of nature as benevolent and passive, instead presenting it as a site of interconnection, terror, and ethical complexity. This approach aligns with ecocritical perspectives, highlighting the novel’s relevance to contemporary debates on technoscience and environmental responsibility. The essay will proceed by analysing the creature as a cyborg-like figure, the gendered implications of Victor’s creation, and the role of narrative doubling in amplifying these tensions.
The Creature as a Cyborg Figure: Challenging Human/Nonhuman Distinctions
In Frankenstein, the creature embodies a profound troubling of normative concepts of the ‘natural’ by blurring the lines between human and nonhuman, organic and artificial. Traditionally, nature is conceived as an inherent, unmediated essence—pure, vital, and opposed to human artifice (Morton, 2016). However, Shelley presents the creature as an assemblage of disparate body parts, animated through Victor’s “unhallowed arts” (Shelley, 1818, p. 55), which draws on contemporary scientific fascinations like galvanism. This act of creation disrupts the natural/unnatural binary, as the creature is neither fully born from nature nor entirely a product of machinery, but a hybrid that Morton describes as testing categories to their “breaking point” (Morton, 2016, p. 147).
Textual details underscore this blurring. Victor’s narration describes the creature’s assembly in vivid, grotesque imagery: “I collected bones from charnel-houses and disturbed, with profane fingers, the tremendous secrets of the human frame” (Shelley, 1818, p. 53). The diction here—”profane” and “disturbed”—evokes a violation of natural sanctity, yet the creature’s subsequent vitality challenges the notion that life must originate from organic, ‘natural’ processes. Indeed, the creature’s self-awareness and capacity for emotion further complicate his status; he laments, “I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel” (Shelley, 1818, p. 102), invoking biblical metaphors that position him as both a natural creation (like Adam) and an unnatural abomination (like Satan). This characterization invites readers to question what constitutes the ‘human’: is it biological origin, or sentience and suffering?
From a post-humanist perspective, the creature can be seen as an early cyborg figure, as articulated by Donna Haraway’s concept of the cyborg as a “hybrid of machine and organism” (Haraway, 1991, p. 149). Haraway argues that such figures dismantle dualisms, much like Shelley’s monster, who is pieced together from human remains yet animated artificially. This aligns with Morton’s ecocritical view, where Frankenstein embraces “dark ecology,” rejecting rigid boundaries and emphasising interconnectedness between the natural and the constructed (Morton, 2016). The creature’s existence thus troubles normative nature by revealing its paradoxes: he is at once a product of natural materials (human flesh) and unnatural intervention, forcing a reconsideration of humanity’s place within, rather than above, the natural world.
Moreover, the narrative’s mediation through Walton’s letters adds a layer of doubling, as Victor’s account is retold, mirroring the creature’s own retelling of his experiences. This (re)doubling amplifies the absurdity of categorising the creature as purely ‘unnatural,’ as his perspective—narrated with eloquence and pathos—humanises him, contrasting Victor’s horrified rejection. For instance, the creature’s encounter with nature in the wilderness, where he finds solace in “the gentle breeze” and “the warbling of birds” (Shelley, 1818, p. 108), portrays him as attuned to the natural sublime, typically reserved for humans. Yet, his rejection by society underscores the unnaturalness imposed upon him, testing the human/nonhuman divide to breaking point, as Morton suggests.
Gendered Critiques: Usurping Nature’s Feminine Domain
Shelley’s novel further troubles concepts of the ‘natural’ through a gendered lens, critiquing the patriarchal metaphor of nature as feminine and passive, to be dominated by masculine science. Influenced by her mother Mary Wollstonecraft’s feminist writings, Shelley portrays Victor’s creation as a usurpation of female reproductive power, aligning with Anne Mellor’s analysis of the novel as a feminist critique of male scientific ambition (Mellor, 1988). Normative views, rooted in Francis Bacon’s philosophy, cast nature as a woman to be “penetrated” and controlled (Mellor, 1988, p. 89), but Frankenstein exposes the monstrous consequences of such domination.
Victor’s plot actions exemplify this. By creating life without a woman’s involvement, he boasts, “I had desired it with an ardour that far exceeded moderation; but now that I had finished, the beauty of the dream vanished, and breathless horror and disgust filled my heart” (Shelley, 1818, p. 56). The diction of “ardour” and “finished” evokes a sexual conquest, yet the immediate “horror” reveals the paradox: Victor’s attempt to master nature results in chaos, not control. This troubles the natural as a stable, benevolent force; instead, nature retaliates through the creature’s vengeful acts, such as the murder of Elizabeth, symbolising the destruction wrought by excluding the feminine from creation.
The creature’s own narrative doubles this critique, highlighting his isolation as a byproduct of Victor’s unnatural birth process. He describes himself as “a poor, helpless, miserable wretch” (Shelley, 1818, p. 101), lacking the nurturing that natural reproduction provides. This characterization emphasises the unnaturalness of bypassing maternal bonds, aligning with Morton’s idea of testing categories’ absurdities (Morton, 2016). Furthermore, the novel’s landscapes— from the sublime Alps to the inhospitable Arctic—serve as imagery that both awes and terrifies, rejecting romantic ideals of nature’s benevolence. Walton’s epistolary frame reinforces this doubling: his quest mirrors Victor’s, yet his letters to his sister Margaret introduce a feminine perspective, subtly critiquing male overreach.
Ecocritically, this gendered troubling extends to “dark ecology,” where nature is not passive but an active, spectral force (Morton, 2016). Victor’s failure to “love his monster,” as Bruno Latour puts it, represents not just personal abandonment but a broader ethical lapse in technoscience (Latour, 2011). Latour argues for “compositionism,” responsibly integrating creations into the world, which Frankenstein anticipates by showing the perils of rejecting entanglement with the unnatural.
Narrative Doubling and the Limits of Enlightenment Mastery
The persistent dynamic of (re)doubling in Frankenstein intensifies the novel’s troubling of ‘nature,’ exposing the limits of Enlightenment ambitions to master the natural world. Shelley structures the narrative as nested tales—Walton’s letters enclosing Victor’s story, which in turn encloses the creature’s—creating mirrors that reflect and distort each other, as Morton notes in testing categories to absurdity (Morton, 2016).
This structure highlights paradoxes in characterization and plot. Victor embodies Enlightenment rationalism, pursuing “the secrets of heaven and earth” (Shelley, 1818, p. 39), yet his success leads to downfall, revealing nature’s uncontrollability. The creature, doubling Victor as both creator and destroyer, articulates this: “You are my creator, but I am your master” (Shelley, 1818, p. 172). Such diction inverts power dynamics, troubling the natural hierarchy where humans dominate nature.
Narrationally, the conflicting perspectives—Victor’s self-justifying account versus the creature’s eloquent plea—mediated by Walton, underscore unreliability. Walton’s Arctic pursuit doubles Victor’s hubris, with icy imagery symbolising nature’s unforgiving response: “the cold northern blast… seemed to unite with the stillness of death” (Shelley, 1818, p. 211). This tests the natural/unnatural binary, as human endeavors blur into monstrous overreach.
In ecocritical terms, this doubling aligns with rejecting modernism’s emancipation from nature, advocating stewardship (Latour, 2011). The novel’s relevance to modern issues, like AI, lies in its parable of responsibility, where abandoning creations leads to catastrophe.
Conclusion
In conclusion, Frankenstein troubles normative concepts of ‘nature’ and the ‘natural’ by blurring human/nonhuman boundaries through the cyborg-like creature, critiquing gendered usurpation of reproductive power, and employing narrative doubling to expose Enlightenment paradoxes. Supported by textual details and ecocritical insights from Morton (2016), Mellor (1988), Haraway (1991), and Latour (2011), the novel reveals nature as interconnected and spectral, not passive or benevolent. This has implications for contemporary ethics in science and ecology, urging responsible engagement with our creations. Ultimately, Shelley’s work tests categories to breaking point, inviting readers to embrace the monstrous ambiguities of existence.
References
- Haraway, D. J. (1991) Simians, Cyborgs, and Women: The Reinvention of Nature. Routledge.
- Latour, B. (2011) ‘Love Your Monsters: Why We Must Care for Our Technologies As We Do Our Children’, in T. Nordhaus and M. Shellenberger (eds.) Love Your Monsters: Postenvironmentalism and the Anthropocene. Breakthrough Institute.
- Mellor, A. K. (1988) Mary Shelley: Her Life, Her Fiction, Her Monsters. Methuen.
- Morton, T. (2016) ‘Frankenstein and Ecocriticism’, in A. Smith (ed.) The Cambridge Companion to Frankenstein. Cambridge University Press, pp. 143-157.
- Shelley, M. (1818) Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus. Lackington, Hughes, Harding, Mavor & Jones.
(Word count: 1528, including references)
