The simultaneous nigh-unavoidable impulse toward creation (which takes some months, of course) coupled with body horror and more than a little revulsion, and sudden, transformative “birth” at the end (the monster isn’t intolerably, fundamentally, stomach-turningly repulsive until that spark of life enters it) is rather on the nose. It’s a man giving birth, more or less, and parental responsibility (which he whiffs at—he can’t tolerate the monster, especially at first, either) of a sort follows. Given that, and that particularly fatherhood-connected motifs and themes are not strong in the book, I think one would have to justify all that not having having to do with motherhood.
Given the author’s bio and stuff like her mom dying from giving birth to her, yeah, I’d say it’s there. A very particular point of view and concern with it, not exactly “ain’t pregnancy and motherhood beautiful?”, yes, but it’s there. “Death of the author”, sure, but it’s there in the book even if you don’t know Shelley’s bio.
Interesting, thanks. You make it sound like it's about postnatal depression ("the monster isn’t intolerably, fundamentally, stomach-turningly repulsive until that spark of life enters it"). Definitely food for thought.
Yeah, the protagonist’s a guy (Shelley was raised by her dad…) and the he-does-it-with-science thing is definitely there (though he’s nothing at all like the mad scientist from the films) but I do think the book leans much more strongly toward motherhood (and especially pregnancy and birth) than fatherhood, themes-wise, though it’s definitely not the only thing going on, either.
Given the author’s bio and stuff like her mom dying from giving birth to her, yeah, I’d say it’s there. A very particular point of view and concern with it, not exactly “ain’t pregnancy and motherhood beautiful?”, yes, but it’s there. “Death of the author”, sure, but it’s there in the book even if you don’t know Shelley’s bio.