Cauldron Anthology Issue 5: Seer Cauldron Anthology Issue 5 Seer (1) | Page 10

Mary Shelley and a Prophecy of Monsters Callum McLaughlin In her time, Mary Shelley was as celebrated for her work as she was vilified for her per- sonal life. Indeed, the scandals of her relationship with poet Percy Bysshe Shelley became as much a part of the public consciousness as the furore caused by her iconic novel, Fran- kenstein. Though she would go on to write a number of other novels, short stories, poems, diaries, plays, and travel documents–whilst also dedicating considerable time to editing and promoting the work of her husband–it was undoubtedly Frankenstein and her various heartbreaks that endured as her greatest legacies. Recent years, however, have seen a resurgence in interest and respect for the work of a writer more prolific and prophetic than we were previously led to believe. Scholars and bookworms alike have been rediscovering the breadth and value of Shelley’s back-cata- logue, bringing to light a whole new perception of her contribution to literature. With this added gift of hindsight, it appears that Mary Shelley was far more than just a writer–and certainly more than a one book wonder. It could be argued that she was, in many ways, a prophetess of sorts, operating well before her time; pen and paper her medium of choice. With regards to context, it is interesting to note that from the off, Shelley’s life was, in some respects, a cycle of repeating patterns, strange occurrences and unexplained coinci- dences. Take, for example, the very moment she was born. Her mother, Mary Wollstone- craft – the now respected figurehead of what would become the feminist movement–was unable to recover from the trauma of childbirth, dying when her daughter was just ten days old. In a cruel, cyclical fate, Shelley’s own first child would die after just ten days. The influence of her mother’s memory, and the pain of losing a child would haunt her work forevermore. The extreme emotion encapsulated by the Romantic era, and the Gothic qualities of death and suffering became stalwart motifs in almost everything she wrote. Indeed, more than most, Shelley’s experiences could be summed up equally by the phrase, ‘life imitating art’ as they could by the phrase, ‘write about what you know’. The way her work and her private endeavours wove themselves intrinsically together over time is arguably enough to verge on the side of eerie. From the aforementioned elements of her own life cropping up in her stories time and time again, to characters reflecting the people closest to her, there are many examples from throughout her existence in which the line between art and artist was blurred. There was even a time when Shelley herself became aware of how much the two bled in to each other, and the realisation came about through yet more tragedy. Though its publication would be supressed by her father, and it wouldn’t be released until long after her death, her second major work following Frankenstein was a novella entitled Matilda. Again, themes of a young woman idolising a deceased mother; that same woman becom- ing estranged from a father she loved before going on to strike up a bond with a beauti- ful poet; they all echo with the truths of Shelley’s own life. However, it is the fate of one particular character that Shelley would later realise was ripe with unplanned foreboding. In a key scene, the book’s titular heroine rushes toward the sea in an attempt to stop her 10 Cauldron Anthology