How Frankenstein has evolved

The Monster presented in Mary Shelley's Frankenstein is a complex, sympathetic character. He is of a higher intelligence than the average person, a far cry from the shambling Boris Karloff in the 1931 film. Yet this image of Frankenstein has endured far longer than Shelley's original creature because of his relative simplicity.

The Monster, as he is originally presented, commits one sin that endearing, classic monsters can't do: He is complex. He is more than just a symbol of terror or a great other. He is intelligent, savvy, passionate and sympathetic, and instead of terrorizing the public, he really just sort of broods. It's ironic, because this makes him a much more relatable character, but it actually stymies his universal appeal; kids don't want to see a sad monster. A sad monster doesn't look good on window clings and lawn decorations. A sad monster has no place among the "fun" of fear.

A shambling, giant green man is easily identifiable as a great other, in a way that the thin-skin, watery-eyed Monster that Shelley describes simply isn't. The Monster treads the thin line between deformed and hideous, a grey area that is incredibly painful to tread for many people.

However, there are still echoes of Shelley's portrayal in contemporary Frankenstein stories. Frankenstein is usually run out of town by the villagers, he's still composed from the dead, and he's still a very lonely creature. Those elements provide a motivation and a gruesome origin. They give Frankenstein an explanation. They clarify the creature instead of complicating him.

And echoes of Shelley's monster also exist in other media. The best example comes from comics namely Alan Moore's Swamp Thing. Swamp Thing was, for a long time, just another monster comic, until Moore took over and told the tragic story of a man's metamorphosis into something less than human. Beyond his great power, the Swamp Thing was intelligent enough to understand what he had lost. He straddled the line between human and other, and he looked at humans with an envy, envious of their ability to relate to one another, just like Frankenstein's Monster.

Finally, it's interesting to note that Asimov used the term "Frankenstein Complex" to describe characters with a fear of mechanical men. The trope of a scientist creating life with machines is everywhere, from Metropolis to Star Wars, and these stories arguably wouldn't exist if it wasn't for the Monster.

Poor Victor Frankenstein. His name will be forever remembered for the son he tried to forget. In a way, it's the ultimate victory for the literary monster; he's truly conquered his father and taken his identity. We remember the monster with this name for two reasons:
1. It's easy shorthand for an iconic character.
2. It's endearing, yet still scary.
"Frankenstein." It sounds German and Gothic and horrible. It fits the green-skinned monster like a glove. While his creator may have never given him a name, we, the readers, are ready to welcome him with open arms and adopt the monster, the way no one else would.