Mariella Gattini

Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin (1797-1851), who would become—after her emancipation, and much hardship—the wife of poet Percy Shelley, created the most well-known monster of all times in Frankenstein (1818).

Born to liberal parents to then elope and later marry a liberal man, she had her sense of personal freedom well developed and understood. But she also bore a sense of guilt. First for the death of her mother, who passed away when Mary was born, and later for the death of her own daughter. That natural sense of loss became an obsession for reanimation in her, which found in galvanism the perfect scientific means to achieve her dreams. Galvanism was recent in history at the time and it seemed to be much more promising than it really became, but its intrinsic idea was enough to inspire in Mary Shelley a way to make one of the most extraordinary characters of all times come alive.

This prolific writer has been obscured. First, by her own personal life dominated by her desires of being the ultimate rebel, going to live with an already married man, Percy Shelley. Then by her maternity woes that became center stage, and finally by the fact that she ended up being Shelley’s widow, a label that persecuted her the rest of her life, a life devoted to make the work of her late husband relevant in the world of literature, in the company of the only surviving child they had.

As limited as life was for women in England in her time, she managed to be the writer we still talk about even today, despite the fact that the memory most people have of Frankenstein’s monster is the character depicted in the 1931 movie that transformed it into a quasi-caricature.

In the movie Mary Shelley (2017), now on Showtime, the protagonist is interpreted by Elle Fanning, who gives to Mary the freshness of her age and, at the same time, makes the character very reachable and understandable looking at Mary from the perspective of our day and age.

Mary had two main characteristics that went against her—she was not only a woman, she was a liberal one, which for her time was something that went from being considered in bad taste to an extreme case of heresy. She had the influence of her husband Percy—a poet who believed the church was there to curtail the soul of man—and of Lord Byron, who actually was the one to dare her to write a horror story, during a lazy, rainy afternoon. Percy and Lord Byron were banned in England. For that reason, they found themselves out of the country for some periods of time.

I wonder why this keeps happening, some people are so intelligent and strong, but their voices are turned down by the big megaphones of the nonsensical. I’m thinking of what is happening in England today and the so-called Brexit. 52% of people were convinced of getting away from the EU, and 48% were against the measure. How in the world did this 52% ignorant majority allow themselves to be convinced of such senseless decision by the ones with the bullhorn? Maybe because they picked on their pride and their unwillingness to work with Germany and France in resolutions that would benefit everyone involved. At the moment, the Germans and the French have the most stable economies in the region. For that reason, they’re leading in the EU.

What happened to the 48%? Why aren’t their voices heard? As far as we know the conservative Prime Minister, Theresa May, has trouble making Brexit happen not because of the opposing 48%, whose position is clear, but because of the discrepancies among the very same 52% pro-Brexit, unwilling to work in an environment of cooperation with other countries.

I’m sure that today in the U.K. there are millions of women like Mary Shelley—intelligent, accomplished, strong, and daring—but we don’t hear their voices. Why is that? We only hear about this Brexit nonsense from the ones with the megaphone.

I refuse to believe that all those wonderful writers of other times didn’t have any influence in the emancipation of women in England. It can’t be that an extraordinary thinker like Mary Shelley, who actually risked her life for her deep philosophical ideas of love, freedom, and self-actualization, has been replaced by names such as J.K. Rowling, E.L. James, or Helen Fielding, just because they have made millions with their books.

And then, sadly, I have to remind myself that Mary Shelley is dead, and people are not going to pick a book up unless it offers them the physical, sensory satisfaction they are looking for. Most people don’t read books; they read minimal effort entertainment.

Of course I think a story—to be readable—needs to have enough tension and relatability for people to make the effort, since there are other distractions competing for their attention. But I refuse to believe that we live in a world where people seek only primary satisfaction given by money, looks, and entertainment.

Aren’t their souls withering? Am I the only woman thirsty for a literature that evoke our real sense of self-actualization? I mean literature coming from women with ideas other than what men, and therefore the market, expect women’s literature to be, which fundamentally means entertaining children, selling lust, or romance.

Is all there is? Where are our brains? Where is our courage?

Mary Shelley should serve as a reminder of what it can be—an extraordinary writer, who went against the grain and, because of the time she had to live in, paid with her life. Thankfully, through the work of a few contemporaries, she is still among us, not only as a writer, but as a wonderful example of talent and determination.