Many imaginary creations can be seen as us reflecting upon ourselves. Creating some sort of distant menace to embody those things which we mean to bring out and question.
And as for Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, well...with that double mirror effect seen when man reflects upon the ghastliness of the monster, and then upon himself, and at the same time, the monster reflects upon the ghastliness of man and then upon himself as well...there becomes a symmetric cry of agony from both sides, amplifying the misery. And the redeeming qualities inherent in both sides don't seem like enough.
In this case...it seems man doesn't care too much for what he has become.
I know there is more to this than that. This is supposed to be the modern Prometheus. A tale of a creature overstepping its boundaries, and the creator/creation relationship as well.
But this is what I'm reading in it so far. What with my gloomy outlook on things. There's a lot to be said about the novel, that's for sure.
These things and more go through my coffee crash-rotted head at 11:30 at night.
