Introduction

When Frankenstein's Monster finally opens its “dull yellow eye,” its creator instantly falls into a fit of histrionic madness. ¹ What leaves him so overwhelmed is not a feeling of fatherly pride or medical accomplishment, but a visceral disgust at the creature's ugliness—skin too transparent to conceal its underlying arteries and muscles, a pair of glistening teeth set in stark contrast against its black lips, eyes that look watery and jaundiced. Frankenstein never recovers from this aesthetic shock. Too disappointed and disturbed by the cosmetic failure of his project, he neglects to appreciate its scientific success and realise that the creature's disfigured face actually disguises the humane mind of a noble savage. What Mary Shelley's novel thus forcefully demonstrates is the extent to which the classification of species is an aesthetic activity, a simple matter of specere (the Latin verb from which the term species derives, meaning “to look at”).