A Day in Frankenstein's Geneva

KEYS to how Frankenstein's Monster explains Switzerland

Some months ago, when I shared my post A Day in My Geneva on a Geneva expats group on Facebook, I took some heat. A number of expat residents of Geneva felt I’d sold the city, and indeed the entire canton, short, and they’re probably right. For example, not even once have I considered booking the “Sissi Suite” at the Hotel Beau Rivage, wherein the Austrian Empress died after Italian anarchist Luigi Lucheni stabbed her with a sharpened file. And why wouldn’t I at the price of CHF 3000 per night? (Note: USD 3,200—no joke conversion either.) I thought you were supposed to get a discount for a murder room?

I also arrived too late to see Lucheni’s head in formaldehyde, which remained in Geneva until being transferred to Vienna in 1986. I also missed seeing it on display in Vienna, as it was buried in the Zentral Friedhof in 2001.

But a more down to Earth suggestion (note: and in fairness, no one actually suggested I book the Sissi Suite or visit a head that left the city nearly forty years ago) was to got visit the Frankenstein’s Monster statue in Plainpalais. In response to which, I thought, very reasonably, “Why on Earth would there be a statue of Frankenstein’s Monster in Geneva?”

Well, it turns out that Dr. Frankenstein is a Genevois, and much of the action of Mary Shelley’s masterpiece is set in Geneva. This surprised me for a number of reasons. First, Frankenstein is pretty clearly a German name, and Geneva is the heart of Suisse Romande—that is, French speaking. Second, there has been like one thunder storm here in my 18 months, so how could Frankenstein possibly find the lightning here to give life to his monster? Finally, I am almost sure that the licensure requirements to build a monster in Geneva would be so burdensome as to make the experiment impossible. You probably need to register the monster with the Mairie or Hotel de Ville (note: mayor’s office), pay the monster tax, etc.

It turns out that, in the novel, Dr. Frankenstein avoids all of this by going to Germany to create his monster, which makes perfect sense. In addition, the monster of the novel, and indeed the entire novel, have little resemblance to the 1931 Boris Karloff film that shaped my perspective of the Frankenstein story. There is no castle, there is no Igor, there is no lightning storm. Perhaps most surprisingly, there is no dimwitted monster. Rather, the monster is intelligent, ultimately learning French—which I need not remind you is the language of Moliere—while secretly observing a French family for months on end. He is honestly closer to the sophisticated monster of Young Frankenstein than the monster of 1931’s Frankenstein. PUTTING ON THE RITZ!!!!!!

On the other hand, the monster is also not the poor misunderstood soul of the film—at least not by the end. Rather, the monster is deeply hurt when his creator shuns him and even more deeply wounded when the Francophone family rejects him, so he becomes, basically, a serial killer. He murders Frankenstein’s brother. He murders Frankenstein’s best friend. He murders Frankenstein’s cousin/wife… and, most sociopathically of all, he pins the first murder on Frankenstein’s housekeeper so she is executed for the crime. It’s not being eight feet tall and made of mismatched parts stolen from the cemetery that makes him a monster—it’s the premeditation. To the extent he’s sympathetic, he’s sympathetic in the same way as Aaron Hernandez. The messed up life explains a lot, but it’s still no excuse for killing a bunch of people.

Ultimately, what really drives the monster mad is when Frankenstein reneges on a deal to build him a bride out of a not unreasonable fear that the two will breed a race of supermonsters. So the monster, in addition to being a sociopath, is also an incel. Though couldn’t Frankenstein just not still ovaries for the lady monster? He should have thought this through more… not that contraception is just the woman’s responsibility.

And yet throughout all of this, Dr. Frankenstein is a clear villain. Yes, the monster does the killing, but Frankenstein’s unwillingness to give not only love, but even compassion to his creation is what sets the gruesome action going forward.

Nice grip ya got big fella.

Which brings me to the statue of Frankenstein’s monster at Plainpalais.

I loved it.

I really loved it.

Geneva doesn’t have a lot of statuary. I’m not sure if that’s a function of Calvin’s iconoclasm or not, but it’s pretty limited for Europe. So I give the Genevois enormous credit for making one of their most prominent pieces of public art something this grotesque. Honestly, it’s one of the ugliest pieces of public art I have ever seen, right up there with Philly’s statue of Mayor Frank Rizzo and Boston City Hall. But this one is supposed to be ghastly.

I am certain it was not her intention, but Mary Shelley, in creating the monster, actually created a metaphor for Switzerland itself. Both are sewn together for mismatched parts, both have a certain brilliance and sophistication, both are a little paranoid, and both have trouble showing emotion and a tendency to behave a little sociopathically. I mean, bank secrecy, murder, it’s really all a continuum.

But lest I end with a cheap shot, because I have genuinely grown fond of the Swiss in the last 18 months, let me say this for Frankenstein. The book reflects the depth of Geneva that is not always evident to a two-day tourist. It is clean, it is rich, it is expensive, but there is, deep beneath the surface, an air of subversion. Geneva was home to a celebrated squatters movement that occupied a building for 19 years. Far more interesting than wealth, is the rebellion against it. Beneath the sheen, Frankenstein and his monster lurk in Geneva, and thank God they do, because they make everything more interesting.