Adversity In Frankenstein

Adversity is the forerunner to kindness: a progenitor that encompasses the suffering of the raw, human experience. With the understanding of tribulations comes a greater empathy to share with others: the commonality among all living things that surpasses appearance and material. The renowned journalist William Allen White once stated, “If each man or woman could understand that every other human life is as full of sorrows, or joys, or base temptations, of heartaches and remorse as his own…how much kinder, how much gentler he would be”. This tragic lesson is apparent in both Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein and Ernest Gaines’ A Lesson Before Dying: liberation is only available to those who seek beyond the surface of a “monster” or “hog”,

down to the misunderstood goodness of a fallen man. The misconception of an isolated outcast fuels fear and rage in society as well as the victim, furthering violence, seclusion, and pain. When the restraints of superficial judgment are abandoned, the way is paved for an individual to become more receptive and sympathetic. However, those who live within the constructs of external prejudice fail to accept the diversity that encompasses life itself. With the elimination of preconceived notions comes the potential for a universal understanding of humanity.
When prosecuted by society, the easiest coping method is to reclude into self-imposed solitude. Internal kindness or innocence is cruelly overlooked for the sense of judgment, leading to oppression and loneliness. In Frankenstein, Victor Frankenstein’s tormented Creation is endowed with a “…heart [was] fashioned to be susceptible of love and sympathy…” (Shelley 122). He longs for the acceptance that accompanies a normal human life, such as that of the DeLacey’s, which he observes after he abandons civilization for the isolation of the mountains. The Creation shares innately good desires with the rest of man: the primal want for love, acceptance, and a companion. However, when the universe denies him this chance, he turns to violence and revenge to attempt to communicate. In addition, in A Lesson Before Dying, Jefferson is a misunderstood soul: a young man ripped from the clutch of life, only to meet the consequences of a crime he does not commit. Portrayed as a murderer, he is forced to live the remainder of his days alone with his thoughts in a jail cell. Jefferson copes with his pain by shutting out those who attempt to aid him, expressing his frustration silently as a coping mechanism for fear. Grant states, during a visit with Jefferson, “He was full of anger - and who could blame him? - but he was no fool. He needed me, and he wanted me here…” (Gaines 130). Both individuals crave the basic need of human affection, contact, and sympathy: an internal commonality of all mankind. However, the cruelty of the world strips their innately innocent ways to those of fear and vitriol.
Rejection from society includes a motive, either internal or external. However, in the case of both Jefferson and the Creation, prejudice imposed by the “external” world prevents their potential from fully evolving. For Jefferson, or, as he is deemed, the “hog”, the racial prejudices of Bayonne in the 1940s prevent his prosperity. The African-American minorities of the town must submit themselves to humiliation and demoralization at the hands of the white men: addressing them as superiors, going to “colored” establishments, and abiding by the white man’s law without question. For example, when he is delivering Jefferson’s sentence, Jefferson’s judge states, “But let us say he was (guilty). Let us for a moment say he was (guilty). What justice would there be to take his life? Justice, gentlemen? Why, I would just as soon put a hog in the electric chair as this” (Gaines 8). Externally, Jefferson is constantly reduced to the colour of his skin: he is nothing more than another cog in the rigged judicial system of America, which relies on the scapegoat of those who cannot be protected. His imprisonment, however, furthers the idea of being a “hog” into Jefferson’s mind, to where he is nothing but another black man fallen at the feet of a world against him.
This exact conflict is also apparent in the portrayal of the “monster” in Frankenstein.

When Victor animates his accomplishment, he is distraught by its physical appearance, stating that, “…no mortal could support the horror of that countenance” (Shelley 52). The outside judgment of the Creation from both his creator, and eventually, the rest of civilization, prevents the monster from fulfilling his emotion in healthy, normal ways. In the novel, beauty is a virtue. Elizabeth, for example, is treated as a tenderly cherished trophy: Victor describes her as a cherub, a “…a possession of my own” (Shelley 14). In a superficial society, the monster revels in his ugliness, forcing him into loneliness without choice, or even intent. When the Creation looks in the transparent pool to see his reflection and states, “…I was in reality the monster that I am, I was filled with the bitterest sensations of despondence and mortification. Alas! I did not yet entirely know the fatal effects of this miserable deformity” (Shelley 88), he realizes that his ostracization is caused by uncontrollable and permanent circumstances. His pain and internal desolation come from the external consequences of his appearance: abandonment from his creator and the rest of mankind. Although the monster is innately kindhearted, no human can look past his looks to understand and sympathize with the sorrow and misfortune he is doomed to

feel.
However, in both novels, the redemption the “monsters” face facilitates the spread of sympathy and understanding to those previously blinded by the constructs of judgment.

In the resolution of Frankenstein, the Creation explains his motives and regrets to Walton on the ship, detailing the suffrage he undergoes whilst murdering all who Victor had ever loved. The Creature explains how the live of violence and inhumanity he adopts brings him an unforgivable sense of regret, only to be quenched by lighting himself on fire: “Polluted by crimes, and torn by the bitterest remorse, where can I rest but in death?” (Shelley 197). Communication with the men on the boat, to the monster, facilitates redemption through an explanation of his cruel actions, and builds a sense of deep-rooted empathy for his torturous life. This apotheotic farewell facilitates an understanding of the machinations of the monster, and his stolen potential to be the “…much kinder…much gentler” man he was never given the chance to

be.
Similarly, in A Lesson Before Dying, Jefferson facilitates the potential for kindness and sympathy in both himself and his community through his heroic redemption. Through the lessons he undergoes with Grant, he learns to be a more forgiving person to both himself and the broken hatred and bias of his town. On the day of his execution, Jefferson raises himself above his racial role through his bravery, uniting those under the commonality of a young man’s immense strength in times of adversity. He facilitates self-kindness that reflects onto his community, building a more understanding and sympathetic future for those tainted by injustice, whilst undergoing his own self-actualization: the graceful evolution from “hog” to writing, “…tell them im strong tell them im a man” (Gaines 234). Grant, in addition, is the catalyst for Jefferson’s realization, which raises him above his racial and societal role. Not only does Jefferson become more than his label, but Grant gains a greater sympathy for the suffering of one less fortunate: as a much kinder and gentler soul.
The ability to become a more tolerant individual is often inhibited by external injustice; however, these prejudices may often serve as outlets for change. The universal understanding of humanity is achieved through gaining a broader worldly perspective on the lives of others and leading a more sympathetic existence. Only when external judgment and bias is deserted may enlightenment and kindness take dominance over mankind, despite external appearances. There is a keen commonality sacred among all living things: to understand sorrow, joy, and the primal functions and desires of life. With the ability to accept love and the similarities of the human experience comes the facilitation of a universal understanding that no man is innately monstrous: he may only be shaped so by man himself.