Establishing narrator trustworthiness before the first chapter

The foreword in A Princess of Mars functions much like the introduction by Charles Edward Prendick in The Island of Dr. Moreau or the preface in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein.

The writer of the foreword relays memories of his youth, especially those of his uncle, Captain Jack Carter, that lend credibility to the fantastic story about to be unveiled. Captain Jack wrote tales beyond even the plausible, requiring a great suspension of disbelief. Yet, we are brought into his world and are prone to believe he is trustworthy as the narrator of his autobiography because the completely believable and sensible writer of the foreword, Edgar Rice Burroughs, “Captain Jack’s favorite of the younger generation of Carters”, and subsequent author of the novel, has vouched for him.

Captain Jack explains that he does not seek the adulation of the public and is convinced that most will not believe his extraordinary tales: he knows his revelations sound unbelievable. It is his insistence that he presents his manuscript only as a way to help foster understanding of a foreign world — knowledge which he has gained and wishes to share, rather than expecting reliance on pure belief, that makes us trust his character. We believe he is telling the truth because he is so forward regarding his intentions and requires his nephew to follow detailed instructions for the manuscript’s release, prior to which great pains were taken to sequester his manuscript.

The manuscript was released only after Captain Jack’s definitive “demise”, of which he took exceptional precautions to ensure that this would be his last death: he insisted the younger Carter must wait 11 years before even opening the manuscript and a total of 21 years before submitting it for further readership, leading us to believe in its inherent importance.

Despite how fanciful the story may be, reliable narrators can lead us valiantly into unimaginable, and otherwise unbelievable, fantasy realms.

 

(1) Burroughs, Edgar Rice. The Princess of Mars. Publisher and page number unknown (online copy linked from Coursera course, Fantasy and Science Fiction: The Human Mind, Our Modern World). Citation can be found in the foreword.

Frankenstein’s Structure Creates a Never-Ending Cycle

Frankenstein has a cyclic structure demonstrated through parallelism and foreshadowing. Walton’s letters to his sister showcase two men possessed with such lofty goals that even death would not diminish their greatness. Walton’s obsession with finding a new passage through the Arctic mirrors Frankenstein’s obsession with immortality. As Victor’s journey comes to an end, Walton’s has just begun.

Walton “elevates [Victor]… above any other person”, encompassing “extraordinary merit”[i] , which foreshadows Frankenstein’s desire as Creator, which had been at the heart of his studies since childhood.

Foreshadowing is a key element in the early chapters of Victor’s story, with the often repeated word animation, along with numerous references to life, death, and celestial objects: “…guardian angel of my life… Destiny… an omen”[ii], “Angel of Destruction”[iii] and “…such the words of fate, enounced to destroy me…”[iv]  Frankenstein wishes to control heaven and earth, and in his Herculean quest, he ignores nature and family, his singular ties to reality: “… the same feelings which made me neglect the scenes around me caused me also to forget those friends…”[v] . Through his recollection to Walton, Victor reveals that the inevitability of his disastrous path occurs before the monster ever awakens. This tale must end in horror, shown not only through Victor’s allusions, but because he appears on the brink of death at Walton’s first encounter.

This ultimate irony is only recognizable by those who know the tale’s end before the stranger ever speaks, an impossibility whose significance cannot be appreciated by the characters, but which reflects the novel’s cyclic nature:

“We attempted to carry him… [and] he fainted. We accordingly brought him back to the deck, and restored him to animation by rubbing him with brandy…”[vi]

In a true reversal of structure, the novel begins near the end and ends shortly after it began, with despair as the only constant, and an ever-present cycle of beginning and end, life and death.

 

[i] Frankenstein, second edition, with Case Studies in Contemporary Criticism, including both the 1831 and 1818 introductions by Mary and Percy Shelley, respectively, Edited by Johanna M. Smith, p. 39

[ii] Frankenstein, p. 49

[iii] Frankenstein, p. 51

[iv] Frankenstein, p. 53

[v] Frankenstein, p. 59

[vi] Frankenstein, pp. 35 and 36