Intentional Food for Thought

This week’s readings focus on the idea of intentions in literature and if it is ever possible to understand exactly what an author intended by his or her work without allowing personal interpretations to come into play. To do so, the reader would have to approach a text with a completely clear mind, free of any preconceived notions concerning the work and without the influence of societal constructs. Needless to say, this would be impossible.

In discussing Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein the idea of intentions is ever present. In my readings of this week’s selections, I came up with two different ways that intentions can be viewed in relation to Frankenstein. The first, which we have previously discussed in class, and I’m positive will discuss further on Wednesday, is the intention of Mary Shelley. What intentions are depicted in the two, very different, prefaces. Being that Percy Shelley did not write the actual work, but wrote the preface that was originally published, does this skewed declaration of intention forge a disconnect between the preface and the work itself? Similarly, in comparing the two different preferences, does it then become obvious who is the truth author of the work based on the intentions stated?

The second notion that came to mind, and the one I wish to explore further, stems from Wimsatt and Beardsley’s “The Intentional Fallacy” in which it is stated that “Intention is design or plan in the author’s mind. Intention has obvious affinities for the author’s attitude towards his work, the way he felt, what made him write” (1233). Let us, for the sake of this argument, view Frankenstein as the as the author, with his creation as his written work. In this case, then, how can the intentions of Frankenstein be viewed in relation to his creation? Upon taking up this task, what were his actual intentions? Was it simply that he was eager to learn as much as he could and apply this new knowledge through experimentation? Was it a less noble notion, like the ideas often discussed, that Frankenstein wanted to play the role of God? In understanding Frankenstein’s intentions, one could possibly begin to understand the way he interacts with his work.

The interaction of an author with their text is something that is familiar to all of us. Upon completion of a creation, there is always either a sense of pride in what is produced, or a feeling that there is room for improvement. To an author, this is something that is absolutely normal. Similarly, in the event that the work produced is simply average, it is not odd for an author to completely abandon the original, and attempt to start over. I say this all to say, if we view Frankenstein as an author, can’t his reaction simply be considered a normal response of an author to his work? Could the way he reacts simply be because he is disappointed that his work did not live up to the standards that he has set for himself, that he was not able to properly manifest his intentions?

Of course, this is all dependent on his actual intentions and since we will never be able to know what these intentions actually are, I guess we are just left to ponder these ideas. Food for thought, nonetheless.