Creolizing Frankenstein is part of a series published in
partnership with the Caribbean Philosophical Association that revisits
political theorists and other canonical texts through the lens of
"creolization." This term takes on a range of meanings and applications
in the seventeen essays collected here. For some, it designates the way
Frankenstein incorporates various discourses (medical,
scientific, and political) into its structure or plot, thereby engaging
with important questions (decolonization, abolition, and others) that
arose during and after the period in which the novel was written.
Elsewhere in the collection, "creolization" describes how a large number
of cultural productions (films, television programs, other works of
literature) have expanded the novel's themes into the present. Given its
Caribbean origins, however, the term "creolization" also means the way
the novel was (or was not) engaged with the decolonial struggles of the
Romantic period specific to the Caribbean--particularly the Haitian
Revolution of 1804, the first successful slave revolt in history. With
this many possible applications of the term, the volume risks taking on
the monstrous form of Victor Frankenstein's "creolized" Creature: an
accumulation of different elements without a coherent frame.
But that is precisely the point, since the collection's organizing
concept--creolization--entails a hybridized production of something new.
And like Frankenstein's creature, the book yields a surprising and
inventive range of interpretive possibilities. Some of these--the way the
novel formulates a discourse on race, for instance--have been dealt with
before, but many of the essays update these approaches by resituating
these approaches within recent debates and events, thereby suggesting
how the novel continues to have relevance. To that effect, Elizabeth
Young's opening essay expands on her Black Frankenstein (2008)
by discussing recent Afrofuturist appropriations of the Creature. Lewis
Gordon's "Gender, Race and Frankenstein's Creature" engages with films
such as Splice (2009) and Ex Machina (2014), which
have re-imagined the novel's intertwining of myth and science for the
present. Emily Datskou's essay reads the Creature alongside a Danish
artist's life narrative (Man into Woman, 1933) about her
transition from Einar Wegener into Lili Elbe. Both works, Datskou
argues, leave vague the scientific and technical details of their
respective "creation" scenes--not out of necessity or discretion, but to
"shift the reader's focus from the physical creation of the subject's
bodies to their social and psychological construction" (51), thereby
highlighting the performative dimension of gender.
However, because of the many topics that can be explored under the
banner of "creolization," there is a kind of cumulative dimension to the
volume that could have been addressed more clearly in the introduction.
While the essays are grouped by topic, they sometimes reiterate
approaches or questions. For instance, the work of Frantz Fanon frames
several of the essays, including "Revolutionary Responsibility" by Jane
Anna Gordon and Elizabeth Jennerwein, and David McNally's "You Call
These Men a Mob." Nevertheless, the book breaks new ground, particularly
when it turns to Frankenstein's socio-political
context--specifically its relation to the Caribbean, from which its
"creolizing" concept originates. The third section, titled "Literature,
Theory and Culture," follows on Sarah Juliet Lauro's argument in The
Transatlantic Zombie (2015), which connects Frankenstein
to the Haitian Revolution. Persephone Braham's "Galvanic Awakenings"
examines how Hispanophone writers of the Caribbean in the nineteenth
century and beyond engaged with different elements of Shelley's novel.
Focusing initially on Cuban novelists, Braham shows how Francisco
Manzano's Autobiography of a Slave (1840) and Gertrude Gómez de
Avellanda's Sab (1841) utilized the Creature's abjection to
articulate the status of slaves and former slaves in the Caribbean;
here, slavery had been abolished in some places while it was retained or
tolerated in others. Comparisons among the "Promethean" characters of
all three novels are necessarily broad but often productive. The essay's
strongest claim concerns the relevance of these tropes to Caribbean
literature and culture well into the twenty-first century. Dominican
writer Rita Indiana's novel Tentacle (2018), for instance,
creolizes Frankenstein by explicitly connecting it to questions
of climate change, queer politics, and colonialism, fleshing out for the
current moment what Shelley may have only anticipated.
Lindsey Smith's "Monstrous Hybridity" discusses Maryse Condé's novel
Who Slashed Celanire's Throat? (2004), set in present-day
Guadeloupe and Peru. Its main character, Jean Pinceau, reads
Frankenstein and sets about to continue Victor's work. He
rescues an abandoned infant, Celanire, presumed dead after an attempted
human sacrifice, whom he resuscitates and who develops into a grown
woman under his care. Smith makes the case that both novels depict a
"monstrous hybridity"--a counterpoint to creolization that, while it
tends to be treated in less positive terms, articulates something that
can only be given expression through what is deemed unacceptable. The
essay thereby suggests how presumed monstrosity takes many forms, some
of which are not initially recognized as a welcomed form of hybridity.
Smith provocatively suggests that the trope of "monstrous hybridity"
widens the scope of the concept of creolization to include a narrative
hybridity that results "in the recognition of voices and perspectives
that were absent in previous iterations" (310).
While the remaining essays of the third section don't directly
address Caribbean literature, they productively situate
Frankenstein in relation to more contemporary works. Thomas
Meagher argues that Victor represents what Edmund Husserl called the
"crisis" of the European sciences, and thus of "European Man." That
crisis is defined by a tension in modernity between, on the one hand,
"anonymous" commitments to the universality of reason; and, on the
other, the "nominious," Meagher's term for the appropriation of reason
under one's own name and in the name of Europe. Victor thereby becomes
emblematic of modernity itself; the solution to this crisis, for both
Shelley and Husserl, is a modernity that no longer views itself as
uniquely represented by Western Europe.
Corey McCall and Borna Radnik engage in similar conceptual work by
applying James Martel's concept of "mis-interpellation" to the novel.
Althusser argues that ideology functions through the interpellation or
transformation of individuals into subjects of an ideological regime
that, by addressing them, draws them into its constructions of normative
behavior. Misinterpellation designates the subject's subversion, from
within, of the ideology into which they have been interpellated.
According to McCall and Radnik, the Creature heeds the interpellative
call to become a liberal subject in the hope of being granted rights on
the basis of his "rationality," despite the fact that he is constantly
excluded from the category of the human into which he has been
interpellated. He goes on to undermine the interpellative ideology of
humanism, collapsing the normative structures that have subjectivized
him. Fanon expresses concern in The Wretched of the Earth that
such subversions sometimes have a reactionary dimension. The authors
similarly conclude that, while it may be revolutionary to
reinscribe aspects of dominant ideologies in novel ways, it may also
"reiterate these dominant ideologies, even among individuals and groups
who were not meant to heed the interpellative call in the first place"
(386). This argument challenges readings of the Creature as a figure of
pure and simple resistance to power.
Perhaps no essay better exemplifies the title concept of the
collection than Paul Youngquist's brilliant "Funking with Victor."
Youngquist treats creolization not as a philosophical or political
concept, but as an aesthetic term that redefines the essay form itself.
His hybrid Afro-futurist narrative imagines the discovery of
Frankenstein after the collapse of Western imperial culture,
when "a new order arises in Africa, its cultural and spiritual
traditions pieced together in part from the detritus of the fallen West"
(125). Referencing George Clinton and Parliament Funkadelic's "The
Clones of Dr. Funkenstein," Youngquist mixes genres and forms to examine
how a future might creolize Shelley's novel in its own way. He thereby
exemplifies what most of the essays in Creolizing Frankenstein
argue: that ostensibly anachronistic readings of a work can reveal
unexamined and vital aspects of both the past and the present.
One of the main strengths of the collection is that its contributors
come from various disciplines and career stages, many of the most
inventive essays are by younger scholars. It is a volume true to its
word, employing a range of creolized devices to proliferate new readings
of a canonical novel. A key to its originality is that it explores of
how Frankenstein, and Frankenstein, continue to resonate and be
re-interpreted through the present. It thus constitutes a welcome
expansion of ongoing debates about the novel into Caribbean Studies and
other new territory.
Kir Kuiken is Associate Professor of English at The
University at Albany.
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