A Comprehensive Analysis of Literary Protagonists - Ievgen Sykalo 2026
Frankenstein's monster - “Frankenstein” by Mary Shelley
The Eloquence of the Abhorred
The most profound horror in Mary Shelley's Frankenstein is not the grisly assembly of dead tissue, but the sudden, articulate voice of the resulting creature. There is a jarring contradiction at the heart of Frankenstein's monster: he possesses the physical form of a nightmare and the intellectual capacity of a philosopher. By granting the creature a sophisticated command of language and a deep capacity for empathy, Shelley forces the reader to confront a disturbing question: is monstrosity an inherent biological trait, or is it a social construct imposed upon those who do not fit a prescribed aesthetic norm?
The Tabula Rasa and the Education of a Soul
When the creature first opens his eyes, he does not possess a predetermined morality or a sense of identity. He is, in the most literal sense, a tabula rasa—a blank slate. His early experiences are characterized by a sensory awakening; he discovers the warmth of fire, the beauty of the moon, and the basic needs of his own body through a process of trial and error. This initial phase of his existence is marked by an innate, childlike curiosity and a fundamental benevolence.
The De Lacey Mirror
The creature's intellectual and emotional development is accelerated through his clandestine observation of the De Lacey family. This period represents the creature's attempt to integrate into the human experience from the periphery. By learning to speak and read, he does not merely acquire a tool for communication; he acquires a framework for understanding human affection, duty, and social hierarchy. He views the De Laceys as his "protectors" and "guides," projecting onto them a parental role that his own creator, Victor, violently rejected.
However, this education is a double-edged sword. As the creature reads Paradise Lost, Plutarch's Lives, and The Sorrows of Young Werther, he begins to understand the concept of the "self" and the "other." He discovers that he has no history, no family, and no place in the social order. The literature he consumes provides him with the vocabulary to describe his misery, but it also highlights the insurmountable gap between his internal nobility and his external deformity. He recognizes himself not as Adam, created in the image of God, but as a fallen angel—cast out by his creator and hated by a world that values symmetry over substance.
The Breach of the Social Contract
The turning point in the creature's arc is not his creation, but his first attempt at genuine human connection. When he finally reveals himself to the De Laceys, he does not lead with his strength or his demands, but with a plea for compassion. He believes that his eloquence and kindness will override the visceral horror of his appearance. The violent rejection he receives—being beaten and driven away by the very people he loved from afar—serves as the definitive breach of the social contract.
For the creature, the world's reaction is a logical fallacy: he acts with virtue, yet is punished for his visage. This injustice transforms his innate benevolence into a focused, systemic hatred. He realizes that in a society governed by prejudice, the only way to be "seen" is through the medium of terror. His subsequent violence is not the result of a biological impulse toward evil, but a calculated response to an environment that offers no alternative for survival or belonging. He does not choose to be a monster; he is convinced by the world that monstrosity is his only available identity.
The Symmetry of Misery: Creator and Creation
The relationship between Victor and the creature is less a bond of father and son and more a study in mutual mirroring. Both figures are defined by an agonizing isolation, though the origins of their loneliness differ. Victor's isolation is a choice born of hubris and secret guilt, while the creature's isolation is a sentence imposed upon him by birth.
| Attribute | Victor Frankenstein | The Creature |
|---|---|---|
| Source of Isolation | Intellectual pride and the burden of a secret. | Physical deformity and social rejection. |
| Primary Motivation | The pursuit of glory and the conquest of death. | The pursuit of companionship and validation. |
| Moral Failure | Abandonment of responsibility toward his creation. | The transition from victim to perpetrator of violence. |
| View of Nature | A force to be mastered and dissected. | A source of solace and aesthetic beauty. |
As the narrative progresses, the creature becomes the catalyst for Victor's own dehumanization. By systematically destroying everything Victor loves, the creature seeks to force his creator to experience the same void of affection that he has endured. The demand for a female companion is the creature's final attempt to negotiate a peace treaty. He acknowledges that he cannot be loved by humans, but he believes that a shared identity—another "monster"—would neutralize his violent urges. When Victor destroys the unfinished female creature, he effectively kills the last vestige of the creature's hope, cementing the transition from a tragic figure to a vengeful antagonist.
The Existential Void and the Final Remorse
The creature's arc concludes not with a triumph of revenge, but with a crushing realization of the futility of hatred. After Victor's death, the creature does not feel the liberation he expected. Instead, he finds that his vengeance has only served to isolate him further. He has become the sole survivor of a war he started, and in doing so, he has extinguished the only being who truly understood his existence.
His final monologue over Victor's corpse reveals a complex layer of existential remorse. He describes himself as a "wretch" and a "monster," but these terms are no longer used as accusations from others; they are now internalized truths. He recognizes the paradox of his life: he was capable of the highest forms of love and the lowest forms of cruelty. The tragedy lies in the fact that his capacity for evil was a direct reflection of the cruelty he was shown.
Ultimately, the creature's function in the novel is to serve as a critique of Enlightenment rationality and the dangers of scientific ambition divorced from moral responsibility. He is the physical manifestation of the "unintended consequence." Through him, Shelley explores the idea that humanity is not a birthright, but a status granted by the community. By denying the creature this status, society created the very demon it feared. The creature's death—his intention to immolate himself on a funeral pyre—is the only logical conclusion to a life that was an error from its first breath. He exits the world as he entered it: unwanted, misunderstood, and profoundly alone.
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