Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein presents a stark dichotomy between creator and creation, a conflict often framed by Victor Frankenstein’s profound selfishness and the Creature’s desperate struggle for existence and belonging. While Victor’s scientific hubris and subsequent abandonment of his creation are primary drivers of the narrative’s tragedy, the Creature’s own experiences of rejection and suffering reveal a parallel, and arguably more profound, struggle against societal prejudice and existential despair. The novel ultimately suggests that Victor’s self-absorption initiates a cycle of destruction, but the Creature’s agonizing quest for identity and connection highlights the devastating consequences of unchecked ambition and the inherent human need for empathy.
Victor’s journey into scientific overreach is fueled by a potent blend of ambition and a desire for personal glory, rather than any genuine altruism. His obsessive pursuit of knowledge, culminating in the animation of the Creature in his Ingolstadt laboratory in 1793, is driven by a singular focus on achieving the impossible and transcending natural limits. He isolates himself from family and friends, neglects his health, and consumes himself with the "arduous toil" of his work, motivated by the prospect of "bestowing animation upon lifeless matter." However, the moment of success brings not triumph, but horror and disgust. His immediate abandonment of the Creature, fleeing in terror from his "watery eyes" and "shrivelled complexion," is a defining act of selfishness. He prioritizes his own revulsion and fear over any responsibility to the being he brought into the world. This initial abdication of duty sets in motion the Creature’s agonizing path.
The Creature’s struggle is one of immediate and overwhelming alienation. Upon awakening, he finds himself alone, physically repulsive, and utterly without guidance. His early experiences are a series of brutal rejections, beginning with the horrified flight of Victor himself. As he ventures into the world, he encounters fear and violence from every human he meets, most notably the De Lacey family, whose kindness he observes and longs to emulate. His attempts to integrate, such as leaving firewood for the impoverished family, are met with terror when he is finally seen. This constant ostracization, based solely on his appearance, forces him into a state of profound isolation and fuels his growing resentment. His narrative, recounted to Victor in the remote plains of the Arctic, is a testament to a being desperately seeking understanding and companionship, only to be met with unreasoning prejudice.
Victor’s selfishness, however, extends beyond his initial act of abandonment. Throughout the novel, he consistently prioritizes his own comfort and desire for peace over confronting the consequences of his actions. He retreats into himself, consumed by guilt and fear, but rarely takes decisive action to rectify the situation he created. His paralysis stems from a deep-seated avoidance of responsibility, a character flaw that allows the Creature’s suffering to escalate. When the Creature demands a female companion, Victor initially agrees, driven by a desire to appease him and perhaps regain some semblance of control. Yet, he ultimately destroys the second Creature, again prioritizing his own fear of a "race of devils" and the potential for further suffering over a genuine attempt at reconciliation or a reasoned solution. This act of self-preservation, though presented as a moral choice, is rooted in his ongoing inability to face his own culpability.
The Creature’s struggle, in contrast, is an active and evolving response to his existential crisis. Initially, he experiences a childlike wonder and a yearning for goodness, learning language and empathy by observing the De Laceys. His descent into rage and vengeance is a direct consequence of relentless rejection. He murders William Frankenstein, not out of inherent malice, but out of a desperate and misguided attempt to strike at Victor, the source of his misery. His subsequent actions, including the murder of Clerval and the framing of Justine Moritz, are reactive and driven by a profound sense of injustice. His final plea to Victor in the desolate Arctic, begging for an end to their mutual torment, underscores the tragic trajectory of his existence, a life defined by the absence of love and acceptance. He becomes a monster, but his monstrosity is born of human cruelty and neglect, not innate evil.
Ultimately, Frankenstein illustrates how Victor’s selfish ambition creates a void that the Creature desperately tries to fill. Victor's pursuit of forbidden knowledge and his subsequent failure to nurture his creation unleash a cascade of suffering. The Creature's struggle is not merely for survival, but for the fundamental human right to be seen, heard, and accepted. While Victor’s actions are undeniably selfish, the Creature’s tragic narrative reveals the devastating power of societal prejudice and the immense pain of being denied one’s humanity. The novel serves as a powerful exploration of responsibility, the corrupting nature of unchecked ambition, and the universal yearning for connection, suggesting that true monstrosity lies not in appearance, but in the absence of compassion.