Gothic Science Fiction

1818 to the Present

S. MacArthur

• Publisher: Palgrave Macmillan
• Year: 2015
• Print ISBN:
  9781349678501
  9781137389268
• eBook ISBN:
  9781137389275
• Topic: Social Sciences
• Subtopic: Art General
• Index: Social Sciences

Gothic Science Fiction explores the fascinating world of gothic influenced science fiction. From Frankenstein to Doctor Who and from H. G Wells to Stephen King, the book charts the rise of a genre and follows the descent into darkness that consumes it.

1

One Dreary Night: Early Science Fiction and the Gothic

It was on a dreary night of November, that I beheld the accomplishment of my toils. With an anxiety that almost amounted to agony, I collected the instruments of life around me, that I might infuse a spark of being into the lifeless thing that lay at my feet …¹

Geneva, 1816. Nineteen year old Mary Shelley stays at Lord Byron’s Villa Diodati with John Polidori, Percy Bysshe Shelley and of course their host, Lord Byron himself. A wildly decadent meeting of minds, both turbulent and visionary in equal measure, results in a seemingly harmless competition – to write a horror story. Mary’s story began as a dream, a manifestation of the desires and anxieties of a brilliantly gifted 19 year old. This dream, charged with the ideas and sentiments of her friends, formed the basis for Shelley’s ‘entry’ into Byron’s competition. The result was Frankenstein, a story widely appreciated not only for its Gothic sentiment and its Romantic ideology, but also for the significance that it holds as the earliest example of a science fiction narrative.

The atmosphere around Shelley during her stay at Lord Byron’s Villa Diodati was certainly a contributing factor to the volatile air that surrounds Frankenstein. Byron himself commented upon the feelings of unreality and disassociation that overcame him during that particular summer, claiming to be ‘half mad … between metaphysics, mountains, lakes, love unextinguishable, thoughts unalterable and the nightmare of [his] own delinquencies’,² and there is indeed much evidence of this tortuous conflict within Shelley’s text; Frankenstein is a novel that very much swings between the author’s Romantic imagination and her Gothic interests, and one that belies Shelley’s acute political and social awareness in its terrifying depiction of the dangers of ‘the emerging industrial proletariat of the early nineteenth century’.³

With more than a subtle nod towards the scientific accomplishments of Luigi Galvani and Sir Humphrey Davy the novel is given unnerving reality and a distinct social context that prevents it from becoming simply another Gothic yarn, caught up and bound by the melodramatic excess of the Gothic form. Frankenstein carries weight because in explicitly exploring the potential of actual scientific experimentation upon humanity, Shelley is moving away from the realms of traditional Gothic and into something new, and that is the beginnings of Gothic science fiction, a sub-genre of the Gothic, recognisable by its specific interest in science, industry and technology within a Gothic structure.

It is an intriguing collaboration; by definition the Gothic and science fiction are two very different genres, but nevertheless it is a relationship that works. The purpose of Gothic Science Fiction is to explore this link between the Gothic and science fiction, and to explain just how a genre as seemingly traditional and rigid as the Gothic can combine so deftly with science fiction, a genre celebrated not only for its futuristic imagination but also its absolute freedom with regards to subject matter and theme.

So what exactly does Shelley do in Frankenstein that to all extents and purposes has not been done before? It is not as if Shelley can be credited with inventing an entirely new genre; Frankenstein is neither the first Gothic novel nor is it the first science fiction text ever to be written. Indeed science fiction as a theme can be dated as far back as the 18th century Enlightenment writings of Swift and Holberg, and possibly even further back if one is to interpret the lunar landing and theme of exploration in Godwin’s early 17th century text The Man in the Moone as being science fiction in nature. If one is to adopt the belief that early science fiction has its roots in fantasy, or fantastical writing, then the genre can be dated even further back to the Ancient Greek writings of the 400th century BCE.

In Frankenstein it is the emphasis upon the exploration of the ‘scientific context’⁴ of the period and the subsequent ‘creative power’⁵ that Victor Frankenstein is afforded that sets the novel apart from much of the science fiction and fantasy that preceded it. Science fiction is a genre noted for being ‘socially relevant, and responsive to the modern technological environment’⁶ and the absences of scientific observation and cultural reference in the early works of Swift and Holberg are defining differences between the fledgling science fiction genre and the genre true as it began to emerge in the early 19th century. In omitting reference to social repercussion or political and democratic fallout these early texts often become little more than fantastical journals recounting peculiar sequences of events. Conversely it is the moral questions raised from novels such as Frankenstein that propel them from the world of fantasy writing and into the realms of true science fiction. Certainly it is this interest in moral intent and culpability that allows for the introduction of the Gothic into this new form of writing; the Gothic is after all perhaps the genre that tests the boundaries of moral and social acceptability most provocatively.

Gothic Science Fiction, however, has not set out to offer an analysis of either science fiction or the Gothic, but instead to attempt to understand the ways in which science fiction and traditional Gothic form are linked. With regard to Frankenstein the link is clear to see; the Gothic side of the text does after all detail the creation of a vengeful monster and introduce a range of innocent victims. It has both mystery and secrecy, an abundance of pace and tension, and fully captures the ‘desensitised acquiescence in the horror of obsession and prevalent insanity’⁷ that typifies great Gothic writing. But it is also quite clearly a science fiction text, detailing as it does the scientific efforts and experimentations of the young Victor Frankenstein as he embarks upon his project to create life. Very much concerned with the ‘evolution of technology’⁸ as it dominated the early 19th century, Frankenstein is a product of its environment, raising concerns and questions regarding the ‘hybrid nature of our contemporary existence’⁹ in an age of ‘extraordinarily rapid technological change’.¹⁰

Within Frankenstein there are heroes and villains present, and in keeping with later Gothic convention these roles are not clearly defined or indeed permanent; both Victor and the monster move from positions of having the readers’ sympathies to generating emotions of scorn and disgust. This step forward in character complexity is not only indicative of the constantly evolving dynamics and capabilities of the Gothic genre, but also highlight the increasing demands and expectations that the author has of her readership in that it is clear that Shelley ‘intended to demonstrate the wrongness of Frankenstein’s efforts, at the same time showing the monster as a fundamentally neutral creature who is made evil by circumstances’.¹¹ The resulting moral dilemma is not without effect; there is a strong voice of conscience within the text, which is perfectly executed to generate ‘many moments when it is difficult for the reader to know whose behaviour is the most unjustifiable’.¹²

The narrative is, as one would expect, strongly concerned with those themes that readers of Gothic fiction would be well acquainted with, these being the manic need to procreate or generate life, and the mandatory desire and suffering that this need brings. It is precisely these themes of desire and suffering that permit wonderful moments within the text in which Shelley’s Romantic interest can be indulged; the image of the monster left alone to wander the landscapes of Europe with only the wonders of nature to offer inspiration, comfort and solace, is painted with both startling and saddening clarity:

No distinct ideas occupied my mind; all was confused. I felt light, and hunger, and thirst, and darkness; innumerable sounds rang in my ears, and on all sides various scents saluted me: the only object I could distinguish was the bright moon, and I fixed my eyes on that with pleasure …

One day when I was oppressed by cold, I found a fire which had been left by some wandering beggars, and was overcome with delight at the warmth I experienced from it. In my joy I thrust my hand into the live embers, but quickly drew it out again with a cry of pain. How strange, I thought, that the same cause should produce such opposite effects!¹³

What makes this particular text so compelling and so different from anything that preceded it is its exploration into the world of scientific experimentation and the degree of ‘actual science’¹⁴ within the novel. Specifically this relates to the exposition of the apprehensions surrounding scientific advancement and the misuse to which these advancements may be put when ‘man’s evil side [is] let loose’.¹⁵ In deliberately detailing Frankenstein’s scientific training, his calculations and experiments, together with the wonderfully discordant description of the moment at which the monster is brought to life, Shelley’s writing moves out of the world of conventional Gothic and into that of emerging science fiction.

Frankenstein is a man of culture and of learning, his experiments premeditated and deliberate, and consequently his descent into Gothic madness is very different from the often instantaneous panic and lust driven rages that were such a feature of the early Gothic writings of Walpole, Lee, Lewis and Radcliffe. In Victor Frankenstein we are shown a degree of humanity, but we are also shown an unsettling amount of true evil and the effect of this is that the reader is constantly moved between feelings of alternating sympathy and disgust for him. This results in the creation of an unstable and unpredictable character, and throws us into a world where fear and excitement are offered in equal and extraordinary measure.

Frankenstein was not Shelley’s only foray into the world of science fiction. Her 1826 novel The Last Man is also a science fiction text. Radically different from Frankenstein and considerably less well known, The Last Man is an apocalyptical novel that details the end of mankind. The Last Man is a story set in the future (it ends in the year 2100) and is a tale in which civilisation is destroyed by a plague that sweeps across the continents obliterating humankind. With the exception of one sole survivor, Lionel Verney, there is quite literally nobody left, everyone else having perished as a result of contracting the plague or by failing to survive the calamity of the disease.

Significantly less well received than Frankenstein, The Last Man was reviewed harshly and this had a great impact upon sales of the text. ‘Derisory’ comments labelled the book ‘sickening … stupid and polluted’¹⁶ and did little to celebrate the book for its attempts to accurately portray the ways in which society and democracy would likely fail in the face of such calamity. It is a difficult book to read, there is no escaping that, but once one reaches underneath and beyond the interpretation of the book as a metaphor for personal grief there is much to be appreciated in terms of the Gothic trace that can be found within the text and also its science fiction themes.

The Last Man is, like Frankenstein, a tale comprised of both traditional Gothic features and the futuristic outlook of science fiction. In its introduction the story clings to its Gothic roots in the sense that the tale purports to be a translation of prophetic scripture found within a cave in Italy. Readers of Gothic fiction will recognise this narrative technique as being very similar in style to the ‘distancing’ techniques of Matthew Lewis and Ann Radcliffe as they sought to generate sufficient fictional distance from the very real cultural events of the late 18th century in order to avoid censure or political fallout from their work. It also deals with loss, isolation and suffering – all of which were becoming increasingly common themes within the developing Gothic genre. The growth of the Gothic at this time can be largely attributed to the deliberate attempt by a number of writers to attempt ‘to embody Gothic preoccupations in guises which [did] not pay lip-service to the dominant trappings of the … genre’,¹⁷ and the result of this is increased diversity across the genre that a number of others, science fiction included, could exploit.

The concept of an apocalypse as it occurs in The Last Man has distinct Gothic themes in that any writing that has to do with the ‘end’, whatever shape or form this ‘end’ may take, will have a natural affinity with one of the strongest themes within Gothic writing. Early Gothic works were dominated by ancestral lineage and the brutal extents to which the villains of the tales would go to in order to ensure a male heir, and apocalyptical writing sees this theme continue but on a much larger scale. No longer are we contending with individual families; instead the whole of humanity becomes threatened. Interestingly Shelley’s text appeared in the immediate aftermath of the world’s first significant cholera outbreak, which, between the years 1817–1824, travelled across Asia and into Russia and the northern most Mediterranean regions killing hundreds of thousands of people. Commonly referred to as the First Asiatic Cholera Pandemic, the rapid spread and intense devastation of the disease were reported in the British Press and the potential for a worldwide disaster would not have been beyond the realms of Shelley’s imagination.

Reports from The Times in October and November of 1818 highlight the terrifying rate at which the outbreak spread and the very high death rate that the disease carried:

The last letters from Calcutta state, that the cholera morbus still raged there with great fury. It attacks are sudden, and very speedily fatal: it is not an uncommon circumstance for a person to die within six hours after his first seizure by the shocking malady.¹⁸

In a world gripped by terror it is perhaps not surprising that this terror should find its way into the fiction of the period, particularly into the fiction of one so culturally astute as Mary Shelley.

Following the publication of The Last Man in 1826 there were attempts by other writers to expand upon the very new type of science fiction literature (Edgar Allen Poe had a fair crack at the whip in his writings – The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar (1845) and The Unparalleled Adventures of one Hans Pfaal (1835)) but it was not until the advent of H.G. Wells, Jules Verne and Hugo Gernsback (very often referred to as the grandfathers of science fiction) that the genre in itself began to take shape. Writing towards the latter end of the 19th century, Verne, Wells and Gernsback independently produced a number of science fiction texts that are still considered influential in blueprinting the architecture of the genre.

The most prolific of these three writers was H.G. Wells, and it is in his work that influence of the Gothic is most apparent. In The Time Machine (1895) Wells’ Gothic flair is wonderfully indulged in the altogether sinister depiction of the Morlocks, the subterranean dwelling savages that threaten the simplistic and Elysian habitat and lifestyle of the beautiful Eloi. It is under the cover of darkness that the Morlocks emerge from their underground habitats, and through ‘thick wood[s] … wide and black’¹⁹ they advance upon the sleeping Eloi. Cannibalistic and aggressive they pursue the narrator and his Eloi companion Weena through the depths of the wood, and their relentless chase is very much reminiscent of the earliest Gothic manic pursuits of the demented Manfred and twisted Monk Ambrosio. In an interesting twist upon the traditional Gothic setting of the castle or the graveyard, it is the forest itself that adopts the sense of ‘mysterious obscurity’²⁰ that the Gothic castle was able to generate. Consequently, the forest in The Time Machine is able to become a ‘powerful metaphor for the intricate themes of the text’²¹ in much the same way as the traditional castle did within purist Gothic writing. The intricate themes of The Time Machine relate specifically to the representation of the Morlocks – the secrecy, mystery and downright aggression that typify them, and the setting of the forest is able to provide a very physical representation of the psychology of this dangerous species.

If one is to truly understand and appreciate the emerging diversity within the Gothic form then one has only to compare the differing styles and themes of Wells’ The Time Machine and Stoker’s Dracula. Published in 1897, two years after Wells’ scientific adventure appeared, Stoker’s novel is very much a text that remains true to traditional Gothic for...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Copyright
• Contents
• 1. One Dreary Night: Early Science Fiction and the Gothic
• 2. ‘Mad? Is One Who Has Solved the Secret of Life to Be Considered Mad?’ The Role of the Mad Scientist in Gothic Science Fiction
• 3. ‘The Last Man in the World’: Gothic Motif in the Apocalyptical Novel
• 4. ‘It’s Life, Jim, but Not as We Know It’: The Gothic Monster in Science Fiction
• 5. ‘One Day, I Shall Come Back. Yes, I Shall Come Back’: Immortality and the Fight for Humanity in Gothic Science Fiction
• 6. ‘Henceforth You Shall Be Known as Darth Vader’: The Battle between Good and Evil in Gothic Science Fiction
• 7. ‘We Are Forever in Debt to the Dynamic Duo’: The Role of the Superhero in Gothic Science Fiction
• 8. ‘Science Fiction and Gothic? … It Is Strange that the Genres Should Cross at All’: In Conclusion – Understanding Gothic Science Fiction
• Notes
• Index