Sunday, 31 January 2010

Fantasmagoriana



It is alchemy that is Victor Frankenstein's first passion. He stumbles upon a book by the famous German alchemist Cornelius Agrippa and is hooked. From there he goes on to read Paracelsus and Albertus Magnus. There is no doubt at all that he was fascinated by the occult.

The raising of ghosts or devils was a promise liberally accorded by my favourite authors, the fulfillment of which I most eagerly sought. . .

At university his professors dismiss these alchemists and he turns his attention towards 'natural philosophy' or the study of the natural world. But even though he uses physics and chemistry and mathematics, his urges is the same. He wants to discover the secret of life and to defeat death. The search for an elixir of life was another mainstay of alchemical research.

Victor does make reference to studying anatomy, but this seems to be only because he needs to understand the human form as a part of his work. Even then, he says that he thought about making a lower life form but a kind of arrogance made him go all out for creating a human. Interestingly in James Whale's sequel, Bride of Frankenstein, Frankenstein's mentor, Doctor Pretorius (Ernest Thesiger), shows off some homuncili he's created.

Although the Shelleys were very interested in science - Mary had been taken by her father William Godwin to lectures by Humphrey Davy when she was fourteen and Percy Shelley had experimented with electricity while at university - they were also fascinated by the Gothic and the macabre.

The ghost story-writing competition in the summer of 1816 that gave birth to Frankenstein took place in Lord Byron's rented villa on the shores of Lake Geneva - the Villa Diodati. Byron, Shelley and John Polidori (Byron's travelling companion and doctor) held forth whilst Mary and her step-sister sister Claire sat apart listening. Electrical storms encouraged talk of galvanism but it also added to a charged atmosphere in which they read German ghost stories (collected under the title Fantasmagoriana) and frightened the wits out of each other. The Gothic novelist 'Monk' Lewis also visited that summer.

They were all very young, with mad, bad and dangerous to know Byron the oldest at twenty-eight. Shelley was twenty-four, Polidori twenty-one, Claire (who was pregnant with Byron's child) eighteen and Mary nineteen.

When Byron read an extract from Coleridge's Christabel, Percy Shelley had a fit and ran from the room screaming and had to be calmed by Polidori. That rainy summer of 1816 is also depicted at the beginning of Bride of Frankenstein, with Elsa Lanchester who plays the creature's mate, also playing Mary in conversation with Shelley and Byron.


Part science-fiction (a genre that arguably had never exited before) and part Gothic horror, Frankenstein also has a lot of Mary Shelley's life in it. The settings are almost all places that Mary herself visited. The novel was begun near Geneva where Victor's family lives. There is a fateful meeting with the creature on the Mer de Glace glacier at Chamonix - a place Mary visited that July. When Shelley had eloped to Europe with the then sixteen year-old Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin (and fifteen year-old Claire) in 1814, they had sailed back down the Rhine - a journey that Victor and Henry Clerval take on their way to England. As they floated down the Rhine, Mary and Shelley passed underneath Castle Frankenstein. The location is not used in the book, but the name seems to have caught Mary's ear. Castle Frankenstein actually accommodated an alchemist - Johann Conrad Dippel - but stories of his playing with cadavers seem to be a case of fiction influencing fact. Victor's character seems to have been superimposed onto Dippel's.

Death plays a big part in the book and in Mary's life. The nineteen year-old author also had more than her fair share of tragedy in her life. Mary's first child was premature and died shortly after. Between writing Frankenstein in 1816 and publication in January 1818, Percy's first wife Harriet and Mary's half-sister Fanny, both committed suicide. And things only got worse. Between the first publication and the second in 1831, Percy drowned at sea and Mary suffered the deaths of her baby daughter Clara and her young son William.

Authors never choose character names by accident - Victor is nicely ironic - and it seems strange that Mary chose the name William for the baby brother of Victor Frankenstein whom the monster murders. It certainly seemed a cruel twist of fate that her own son would subsequently die. It was also her father's name.

What would Freud have to say about all that I wonder?

Friday, 29 January 2010

Could you say that again?

One of the things that I find most interesting about blogging, is the idea that what I write might connect with someone on the other side of the planet.

Unfortunately, being a lazy Englishman, I speak no other language fluently and have only a fleeting understanding of a couple of European languages.

A few of you have left comments in other languages, and though they may be complimentary or fascinating, they may for all I know be horribly offensive. I'm afraid that I cannot accept comments that are not in English.

Sorry.

Thursday, 28 January 2010

The dissection room and the slaughter-house furnished many of my materials


So how did Victor Frankenstein make his monster? It is not at all clear from the novel. For although Victor speaks a great deal about charnel houses and dissection rooms, it seems more that Victor is using these places to study the effects of decay. He is trying to understand life by studying death.

Victor discovers how to impart life - or at least animation - but he needed 'frame for the reception of it'. He wants to build something that will be a receptacle for the life-force he will create and he decides that it will be easier to work on a giant. He makes his creature eight feet tall.

It is true that Victor talks of the challenge involved in all those 'fibres, muscles and veins' but again it is not clear whether he is sewing these together or starting from scratch. Mary actually says, Perhaps the component parts of a creature might be manufactured. . .

Manufacturing component parts? That sounds very twenty-first century. Growing organs is a very recent development, but Mary Shelley seems to foresee it. Of course it might be possible that he was stitching these 'manufactured' parts together, but there is no mention of stitches in her description of the creature.

Interestingly enough, Frankenstein was filmed as early as 1910, by the Edison company. In this version - and it's on YouTube - the monster is seen to grow from nothing. Considering its age, it is actually a pretty creepy special effect (achieved, so it appears, by burning an effigy and running the film backwards). What is more, this process seems to be a magical one.


The fact is, it was alchemy that was Victor Frankenstein's first passion when he went to university. Later he becomes fascinated with mathematics and particularly chemistry - perhaps what we might now call biochemistry. He was not a surgeon or a doctor.

One of the works said to preoccupy some alchemists was the production of an homunculus: a human grown in the laboratory. But homunculi means 'little human' and Frankenstein's creature was anything but small. But is this what he was up to? Was he creating a human from scratch?

Certainly when he comes to work on the creature's mate, he appears to have no access to graveyards or charnel houses at all. Why?

Because he is in the wilds or Orkney.





Tuesday, 26 January 2010

After days and nights of incredible labour and fatigue, I succeeded in discovering the cause of generation and life


Tales of Terror from the Black Ship up for Salford Children's Book Award and the awards ceremony is on Friday at the Lowry Centre in Salford. Sadly I'm not going to be able to be there to applaud the winner. I'm head to head with Sally Nicholls again, as I was with the North-East Book Award. The other shortlisted authors are Michelle Magorian, Frank Cottrell Boyce, Emma Clayton and Elizabeth laird.

So - back to Frankenstein. Everybody knows how the creature was brought to life don't they. Frankenstein uses electricity. That's what those bolts in the monster's neck are for. Well - perhaps. . .

Except that Mary Shelley does not say how the creature was brought to life. She neatly sidesteps this issue by explaining - as Victor Frankenstein - that this knowledge is too dangerous to pass on. We all assume it must be electricity because of the great 'It's alive!' scene in James Whale's movie. Mary's monster does not look like Karloff's monster - there are no bolts.

Whales did not completely invent this notion. Although the novel does not mention electricity, the introduction to the 1831 edition does. Perhaps, writes Mary, a corpse would be reanimated; galvanism had given token of such things; perhaps the component parts of a creature might be manufactured, brought together, and endued with vital warmth.

A little later, when she is talking about the nightmare that triggered the novel, she says that in her dream she saw the hideous phantasm of a man stretched out, and then, on the working of some powerful engine, show signs of life, and stir with an uneasy, half-vital motion.

So there is some foundation for Whales' lightning bolt and strange machinery. Luigi Galvani had made a dead frog's leg jump as though alive. In 1805, Giovanni Aldini wowed London with 're-animation' experiments as public performances, running electricity through the corpses or hanged men until they twitched and jerked and grimaced.

But Whales also had the example of Fritz Lang's 1927 silent movie, Metropolis. The scene where Maria is transformed into the robot is very similar to the scene in Frankenstein. Although there had always been a fear of science, the twentieth century is when the idea of the 'mad scientist' really seems to strike a chord.

But what about the business of how the creature is made - before it is 'endued with vital warmth'. Again ask almost anyone and they will tell you that it was made from pieces of corpses stitched together.

But was he?

Sunday, 24 January 2010

It was on a dreary night of November that I beheld the accomplishment of my toils


I was interested to read today - or was it yesterday - that Danny Boyle is to return to the theatre. Not only that, but he is to direct an adaptation of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein.

I have spoken at length about my fascination with Frankenstein, but I'm going to go on about it some more. Hey - it's my blog and you can't stop me.

As I have said before, I did not become aware of Frankenstein through Mary Shelley's book. Frankenstein - or more properly Frankenstein's 'monster' - is now a firmly established myth and the image of the creature is as readily identifiable as Santa Claus or Batman.

But of course, that image has little or nothing to do with Mary Shelley's book. The image of Frankenstein we all know so well, is all down to the 1931 movie by James Whale, the performance of Boris Karloff and the skill of the great Universal make-up artist, Jack Pierce.


That image became even more fixed in the public consciousness than Bela Lugosi's Dracula. Before I ever saw James Whale's wonderful movie, I had see Fred Gwynne hamming it up as Herman Munster. The infinitely superior Addam's Family featured Lurch, the enormous growling butler who owed a large dept to Karloff.


The sequels to Frankenstein all kept the brand going, although by the time he was meeting Abbott and Costello, he had filled out a little and was now being played by Lon Chaney Jnr. Comedy spoofs, cartoons, comics - they all embraced this new ogre until he has become one of the cast of favourite Halloween characters and nothing more.


But as undeniably powerful as the Whale/Karloff creature was, it had almost nothing to do with Mary Shelley's vision of the monster:

His limbs were in proportion, and I had selected his features as beautiful. Beautiful! Great God! His yellow skin scarcely covered the work of muscles and arteries beneath; his hair was of a lustrous black, and flowing; his teeth of pearly whiteness; but these luxuriances only formed a more horrid contrast with his watery eyes, that seemed almost of the same colour as the dun-white sockets in which they are set, his shrivelled complexion, and straight black lips.

I think Karloff does have a beautiful face (but that might just be me) and his creature does have straight black lips, but Mary's description is of a classicly proportioned Byronic giant who should have been handsome if it wasn't for the fact the he does not look alive. The description is of an animated corpse and arguably much more chilling and disturbing.

But of course there is an even bigger difference. Mary Shelley's creature can talk. The shuffling mute of the movies is the biggest departure from the book, because it robs the creature of the opportunity to describe his feelings and attempt to explain his actions. Although Karloff does give a sympathetic performance, the creature of the book is an altogether different being.

So, Shelley's monster creature doesn't look or behave like the monster of the movies. But at least we all clear about how he was made and brought to life. . .

Or are we?

Thursday, 21 January 2010

Handwriting

I had a meeting with Lisa Kirkham today - or my design guru, as I will now call her. We had a chat in the upstairs of Cafe Nero in town. I say chat - it actually lasted for hours. My fault, I suspect.

I was after some advice from Lisa concerning fonts and font creation. She brought along her laptop and showed me the lovely font she has designed and ran me through the process. It did not sound simple.

After a long discussion we both concluded that it may actually be safer and more straightforward to hand draw the lettering for my graphic novel, at least in the sort term. More about this when I have something to show.

Wednesday, 20 January 2010

The dead of winter

Yet more news of foreign editions today as Bloomsbury got in touch to tell me that Taiwan is to publish Tales of Terror from the Black Ship and Tales of Terror from the Tunnel's Mouth. They have already published Uncle Montague's Tales of Terror.

And I found this when I was doing a Google trawl to see if I could come up with any new foreign edition cover artwork. It is the Bloomsbury Children's Book catalogue for the Frankfurt book fair last year.

This is the image that I did for the cover of my new novel The Dead of Winter (out in October).