Make Us Care!
A lesson from Shelley and Ishiguro
I am currently preparing my A level students for an exam question comparing Mary Shelley’s ‘Frankenstein’ to Kazuo Ishiguro’s ‘Never Let Me Go.’ Despite being written nearly 200 years apart, the novels are remarkably similar. They both look at the way science tries to find a remedy for human disease, often at the expense of those created to offer new life to others. There are warnings about playing God, and conducting scientific experiments in a quest for personal glory.
These are all huge abstract themes. Students sometimes struggle with questions such as ‘How do the writers issue warnings about the danger of science?’ Where on earth do you go with such a question when you have to argue your points with closely analysed textual detail?
Well, I would suggest readers understand ‘the dangers of science’ because both writers make us care about those who are exploited. In ‘Never Let Me Go,’ the novel is narrated by a clone, ‘Kathy H,’ who gradually discovers that her destiny in life – and that of her fellow clones – is to donate organs in order to benefit ailing humans. Eventually, after her third or fourth organ donation, she will die. She and the other clones have been raised, not to lead their own lives, but to support the human world from which they are isolated. Similarly, in Mary Shelley’s novel, Victor Frankenstein creates a ‘monster’ in order to show that new life can be manufactured in a laboratory, with all the potential that offers humanity. But he hasn’t accounted for the ‘monster’ having a mind and feelings of his own. When we go inside the head of the ‘monster,’ we realise that he is a vulnerable, kind and ambitious creature. Not a monster at all. In fact, it begs the question whether Frankenstein, so often confused with his creation, may in fact have monstrous qualities himself.
But we would never engage with these philosophical and scientific dilemmas, if the writers didn’t make us care about their protagonists. And that is where we can benefit from their creative decisions.
Both writers use the first person for their creatures. Getting inside the head of Kathy and ‘the creature’ (he’s never given a name) helps us to understand their anxieties, fears and hopes. We empathise with them – and in doing so we realise that these scientific experiments are bringing immense harm to sensitive individuals.
Another tactic is to make them the underdog (don’t we always love an underdog?) So the clones are at the mercy of invisible politicians and scientists who have allowed this practice to take place. And in ‘Frankenstein’ the creature is neglected by his maker, attacked by terrified villagers when he does a kind act, and misunderstood by a family he helps. We are outraged on our protagonists’ behalf in the light of these injustices, and so we come to understand in a personal and vivid way, how a misuse of science can affect individuals.
As writers we can learn a lot from Shelley and Ishiguro’s methods. Making us care about our characters – by giving them a voice, showing their vulnerable side and portraying them as often misunderstood or sidelined by those in power – ensures we champion their cause throughout the novels, and thus unwittingly absorb the authors’ deeper messages.