Man Disabled by Deformity and Loneliness is Transformed into Monster: The Story of Frankenstein’s Creation by Kelley A Pasmanick

 A Literary Analysis of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein

[H]ow was I terrified when I viewed myself in a transparent pool! At first I started back, unable to believe that it was indeed I who was reflected in the mirror; and when I became fully convinced that I was in reality the monster that I am, I was filled with the bitterest sensations of despondence and mortification. Alas! I did not yet entirely know the fatal effects of this miserable deformity (emphasis mine). (94)

The above quotation from Frankenstein by Mary Shelley is spoken by Victor Frankenstein’s creation and is of paramount importance in understanding how he perceives himself and provides insight into how others will perceive him. The creation characterizes his physical appearance as a deformity because by the time this particular story is told in the larger scheme of the novel, he already has a firm grasp of language and comprehends conceptually aesthetic standards of corporeal beauty. As such, when the creation sees his reflection in the pool of water, he has an epiphany; he realizes he does not look even remotely similar to anyone else around him. Thus, such an observation on the part of the creation foreshadows the manner in which he is and will be received by others, as something instead of someone, thereby bestowing on him a nonhuman presence. A distinction like this further implies that he is more of a creation than a male human being, and as a result, he is considered inferior and misshapen. Due to his aesthetically displeasing exterior, the creation is impaired because he understands the idea of difference and that he is not desired. He repulses himself because he, in a sense, is his body. He also drives away the various people with whom he interacts because he cultivates a fear of the unfamiliar in them, as well as in Frankenstein because he views the creation as a failed endeavor. Since the creation seems to be an object of disgust and horror to all of those with whom he comes into contact, he develops a consciousness that he is ugly and it is this low esteem in regard to his appearance that becomes a disability. The creation’s identity becomes more and more distorted, thereby stunting his personal growth insofar as he is unable to achieve a satisfying quality of life. The creation is forever devalued, unable to recover from the perpetually malevolent treatment to which he is exposed, and is ultimately doomed to lead a life of loneliness, where the loneliness acts as a secondary disability, ending only in death.

When first presented with a description of the creation, there is a stark contrast between Frankenstein’s characterization of the creation and what the creation is actually like when he meets his maker: “[A] grin wrinkled his cheeks…one hand was stretched out” (43). The creation’s first expression upon being brought into existence is a positive one; one could even deduce that it is a joyous one because a grin indicates a greater degree of happiness than a smile. Simply, he is pleased to just be and appears elated to see Frankenstein. In addition, when he stretches out his hand, he extends it in the direction of Frankenstein. Although seemingly by previous knowledge, since he has not yet had time to acquire it experientially, he appears to be introducing himself. He wants to make a good impression on the person in front of him, who, unbeknownst to him, is his creator. Both of the creation’s actions demonstrate goodness; he immediately attempts to forge an emotional and a physical connection, denoted by the grin and the outstretched hand, with the first person he meets. Furthermore, his actions convey proper decorum in a civilized society. Most importantly, they portray his humanity, discrediting Frankenstein’s view that he is the antithesis of a human being. Finally, from what one initially sees of the creation, one discovers that he is well-meaning, decent, and kind, traits that all connote that he is of a morally upright nature. It is evident that the creation is inherently good.

Comparatively, upon the awakening of the creation, Frankenstein’s first impressions of him suggest that the creation does not meet his expectations and is not what he had intended to originally create: “[N]ow that I had finished, the beauty of the dream vanished, and breathless horror and disgust filled my heart…I had gazed on him while unfinished; he was ugly then, but when those muscles and joints were rendered capable of motion, it (emphasis mine) became a thing even Dante could not have conceived” (42-43). When Frankenstein views his conscious creation for the first time, he does not stop to think about the long and arduous process of creating the being, nor does he recognize that his endeavor is a success. He constructs a living being from dead tissues. He infers though, upon first glance, that the creation is a threat to him and is evil. He does not wait to see what else the creation is able to do after he “introduces” himself; he flees and in effect, abandons the creation. Frankenstein does not in any way validate the creation’s existence because he does not name him. He calls him it, a pronoun that is meant to signify an object or nothing in particular. In this way, the creation begins his life unacknowledged by his creator. The definition of it in no way refers to a living being, and such a designation on the part of Frankenstein confirms the creation’s later thoughts that he is to be detested. Moreover, by calling him it, he does not call him his; Frankenstein, upon its “birth” refuses to take ownership of his creation. He shirks his responsibility as creator, and consequently, as provider and teacher. Finally, by never referring to the creation as his creation, he does not have to admit to the gravity of his mistake, and his subsequent and frequent failures.

Upon meeting the creation for the first time since he abandoned him, Frankenstein is anything but kind, addressing him as “vile insect” (81). Such debasement from his creator relates to the creation’s first interaction with humans. He enters the hut of a shepherd and is quickly espied: “He perceiving me, shrieked loudly, and quitting the hut, ran across the fields with a speed of which his debilitated form hardly appeared capable” (87). Neither Frankenstein nor the shepherd bother to acquaint themselves with the creation; they let his appearance speak for him. Sadly, they assume that he is to be feared because he does not externally fit into the identical ideas or criteria of what a beautiful being is; his bodily appearance must match his personality and temperament. In effect, because he looks intimidating and dangerous, he must be. Furthermore, the shepherd and Frankenstein display identical behavior upon beholding the countenance of the creation. They run in fear and abandon him. The shepherd hurriedly exits his hut and never returns; he leaves the creation alone to wander just like Frankenstein does. In this way, a pattern begins to develop. For every action on the part of the creation, there is a reaction that is equal in the degree of intensity, yet opposite in intent. The pattern indicates that the creation runs to them, them signifying people, in general, and they do the contrary of his initial action by running from him. 

This theory is verified even when another variable is added to the equation: selflessness. The first instance of the creation putting others before himself is when he takes it upon himself to provide succor for the cottagers who reside by his hovel by collecting a more ample supply of firewood for them (92). The creation reasons that he is squatting on the cottagers’ land and wishes to contribute something in return. They are a great source of contentment for him, and he desires to augment their happiness. As a result of him collecting more firewood, they reap twice the benefits; they are warmer and will worry less, if not at all, about succumbing to an illness from extreme cold. Secondly, when the creation gathers kindling, the cottagers do not have to acquire it themselves and are able to devote more time to leisure, which in turn, improves their spirits. By aiding them, the creation demonstrates that he values their presence in his otherwise solitary and self-reliant life. He builds a connection with them, although from a distance that he has not previously had with anyone. The creation feels such a positive impact of the cottagers’ presence on his life and overall disposition that he dubs the cottagers his “protectors” (102). It can be argued though that he is protecting them just as much, if not more, than they are protecting him. A symbiotic relationship forms because the cottagers influence the creation and he affects them.

The human connection the creation builds with the cottagers one learns is, in fact, an illusion, since it is eventually shattered despite the creation’s efforts to live peacefully side by side both literally and figuratively next to his cottager safeguards. He does not successfully appeal to the emotions of Agatha and Felix, the young cottagers, and Safie, Felix’s beloved, in the same way as he does with De Lacey, Agatha and Felix’s father. The creation attempts to create something of his own by constructing family ties; he attaches himself to a family that is not his and fails miserably to reach his goal to have a family: “Who can describe their horror and consternation on beholding me? Agatha fainted, and Safie, unable to attend to her friend, rushed out of the cottage. Felix darted forward, and with supernatural force tore me from his father, to whose knees I clung; in a transport of fury, he dashed me to the ground and struck me violently with a stick” (115). The creation immediately leaves the scene and runs back to his hovel; he allows himself to be attacked and defeated by someone who is obviously smaller and weaker than he. In other words, the creation is beaten by someone who is much more human than him, although he could have and should have, in all probability, trounced Felix. Such an easy win for Felix and a humiliating loss for the creation illustrate the effects of the dejection he now feels. The fight is not his only loss; he loses everything that is dear to him in an instant. He loses the possibility of acceptance and instead suffers the sting of utter rejection. After he flees, the creation comes to realize from his other wanderings that his family of cottagers is not his family at all, but are models for the rest of humankind. Individuals such as the cottagers are caring, gentle, and sensitive, of a more refined quality than most, and they are terrified of him, so it is highly likely that others of a rougher nature will react the same way toward him, if not worse: “There was none among the myriads of men that existed who would pity or assist me…[F]rom that moment I declared everlasting war against the species, and more than all, against him who had formed me and sent me forth to this insupportable misery” (116). No one is willing to look beyond his exterior and it is this unwillingness for others to positively acknowledge him that is the impetus for the creation’s hatred toward all. 

He does not seek revenge against humanity, however, as quickly as he says he will. He is delayed by doing another good deed. He saves a girl from drowning in a river (120). The creation performs the worthiest act of selflessness by saving a life. Contrary to expectation, he saves a human life, reneging on his vow to war against and harm all of humanity. Inherently, the creation displays behavior that is socially acceptable to the humans who shun him. He does not project his pain onto her by making her suffer also; he forgets it temporarily so he can help her. Unfortunately, his concern for her safety is not appreciated by the man who witnesses the accident: 

On seeing me, he darted towards me, and tearing the girl from my arms, hastened towards the deeper parts of the wood. I followed speedily…[H]e aimed a gun, which he carried, at my body and fired…This was then the reward of my benevolence! I had saved a human being from destruction…Inflamed by pain, I vowed eternal hatred and vengeance to all mankind. (121)

The man is ungrateful for the creation’s rescue of the girl; this ingratitude seems contrary to human nature, but is grounded in the fact that the people, with whom the creation interacts, assign more value to his bodily features than to his undertakings. Sadly, his good deeds go unnoticed. It is this complete disregard on the part of the man concerning the creation’s role in saving the girl, even though the man is benefiting from his exertions, that causes the creation to again reconsider and finally, to give into his desire of wreaking havoc on humankind.

One observes that time after time the creation does what is civil and proper in society, but it is he who is disappointed by societal expectations because the people do not treat him as he would like to be treated or, simply, as they would treat others. He is an other unlike themselves, so they treat him differently; society is prejudiced toward him. Such bias is reinforced when the creation says to Frankenstein, “Believe me, Frankenstein, I was benevolent; my soul glowed with love and humanity, but am I not alone, miserably alone? You, my creator, abhor me; what hope can I gather from your fellow creatures, who owe me nothing? They spurn and hate me” (82). Frankenstein’s behavior is far from exemplary toward the creation and he is his creator, who is presumably also representative of humanity, like the cottagers, and he treats him with such scorn and antipathy, like everyone else the creation meets. Frankenstein is the initial source of the creation’s maltreatment. Thus, due to Frankenstein’s behavior toward him, the creation is conditioned to not expect decency and gentility. The statement, then, by the creation is based in experiential knowledge, which will eventually become his fate. 

While Frankenstein’s treatment of the creation is horrendous, it could be contended that the behavior of his younger brother, William, is worse. William is the second child the creation encounters, other than the girl whom he saves from drowning. William, however, differs from the girl because he and the creation have an exchange, whereas the girl is unconscious when the creation meets her. The creation makes his intentions clear that he will not hurt him, and yet William is incredibly cruel and offensive in his conversation with the creation: “[M]onster! Ugly wretch!” (122). When William tells the creation that his father is M. Frankenstein, the creation assumes him to be Victor Frankenstein, and so by murdering William, he is punishing Victor. The creation initially engages with the child based on the premise that he is just that, a child, who is pure of heart and has not yet learned of hate or fear and as such, will be a friend and ally to him. The barrage of insults that William flings at him, causes the creation to realize that he is unfamiliar with the nature of children and that they are capable of cruelty. During the tirade, William reveals that he is related to Victor from his surname of Frankenstein. Subsequently, the creation murders William as a result of this relationship, knowing he will harm Victor. The murder also ceases William’s tirade. The greatest motivation, though, for the murder is that the creation is once again disappointed by humanity. In this instance, however, he is disappointed by a sect of humanity that he thought was unable to disappoint: the youth of humanity. 

Consequently, the creation learns from William  that he cannot forge a bond with the most innocent of society, which would make living among the rest of the human race, who are harsher in nature, impossible; hence, disappointment by William, who embodies the traits of the collective youth of humankind cripples the creation, pushing him to the brink of isolation, leading him to his last resort of requesting Frankenstein create a mate for him: “If any being felt emotions of benevolence toward me, I should return them a hundred and a hundredfold, for that one creature’s sake I would make peace with the whole kind!” (125). The creation will forgive humankind if he has a mate because she will fulfill the role that no one else has been able to as his companion. Simply, he will gain the ultimate connection of a permanent presence that will be made even stronger because she will be unlike anyone else, but like her counterpart. Together, they will be better able to cope with the fact that they are considered grotesque by those around them, since between each other, their appearance will be normalized: “[M]an will not associate with me; but one as deformed and horrible as myself would not deny herself to me. My companion must be of the same species and have the same defects” (123). In order for equality to be present in a circumstance, there must be a standard of comparison. The mate will provide this for the creation; they will be equal. 

Furthermore, the mate will be an evolved representation of the creation. She will be like him enough that they will consider each other the same. Her mere existence will illustrate evolution at work because she will be a separate being from the original creation. Following biological practices, it is she, as the creation’s mate, who will carry and bear children; the creation’s mate will have the greater responsibility of propagating their species. With a mate, the creation will have a significant niche and role in the hierarchical structure to which all organisms belong and, by extension, in the human race. His human essence will be authenticated, although his humanness arises differently from the rest because he is created from dead humans. One would suspect then that eventually the creation and his kind would be visible to the rest of humankind, because there will be more of the creation’s progeny present. A greater visibility due to strength in numbers will eventually lead to their acceptance by the rest of humanity. The mate allows the possibility for him to escape his marginalized position. He and his mate will now be normalized, not only between themselves, but among humanity. Neither he nor his kind will be a source of alarm to those around them. Finally, having a mate allows the creation the likelihood of literally and figuratively casting aside his deformity; a mate will provide him with ability.  

The refusal by Frankenstein to create a mate for him is the last straw for the creation. After this, he is no longer able to cope with the maltreatment he receives by others in a nonviolent or at least passive manner and this causes his mental stability to unravel so that he becomes a vengeful and painfully lonely being. Simply, Frankenstein’s rejection of the creation’s request decides the fate of the creation because by this time, he has exhausted all of his other options in regard to finding a companion: “Once I falsely hoped to meet with beings who pardoning my outward form, would love me for the excellent qualities which I was capable of unfolding. I was nourished with high thoughts of honour and devotion…[but] (insertion mine) I am alone” (196). Inevitably, the creation’s outward appearance completely debilitates him; it is the medium by which others control him and worse, he allows himself to be controlled by his form, which entirely consumes his thoughts, and therefore, his being. By the conclusion of the novel, he becomes the monster that humankind initially thought him to be. In essence, he is caught in a web composed of the predetermined notions of beauty that he is unable to attain, thereby making an escape from the web impossible. In conclusion, the creation is wholly incapacitated and handicapped by the unrelenting and persistent loneliness which has and will continue to plague his existence.                          

Works Cited

Shelley, Mary. Frankenstein. 1st ed. New York: Signet Classics, 2000. 

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Biography: Kelley A Pasmanick is a thirty-five-year-old woman from Atlanta, Georgia. Pasmanick’s work has appeared in Wordgathering, Squawk Back, Praxis Magazine, The Mighty, Loud Zoo, The Jewish Literary Journal, Umbrella Factory Magazine, Breath & Shadow, Kaleidoscope, Tiny Tim Literary Review, and The Handy, Uncapped Pen. Her work has also been reprinted in Queen Mob’s Teahouse.

If you would like to contact Kelley about this essay or other works, please email me at handyuncappedpen[at]gmail.com and I will pass the message to her.

Read Kelley A Pasmanick's other literary analysis on the blog by clicking here.

Of The Disabled Equestrian: The Carriage Driver by Su Zi

Image: Bob Giles in his riding gear sitting on a black carriage. A white and brown horse is pulling him. The grass beneath is lush and the sky is a pure blue with trees lining the background. In front, on the bottom of the picture is a white fence with the letter "C" on it.

Horses are beautiful beings who have had their existence cast with us humans, and our civilization has been built because of their kindness in lending us their bodies, and their lives. For those of us whose bodies are atypical, it might seem to be an impossibility to meld our lives with that of a horse, but the growing programs for therapeutic equestrianism tell us, yes, it’s possible: there’s even a World Championship for Para Equestrians, with teams from many countries. Equestrianism in itself is a faceted art form, with practitioners in disciplines as varied as leaping fences and dancing in an arena, cross-country eventing to dressage to reining to carriage driving. The partnership with horses is as varied as the cultures of our Earth, because horses have been involved in human lives globally for long in our history.

Art is more than a painting in a museum. The Arts have a history and it involves real world craftsmanship, it involves all the methods of perception we have counted. The Arts also involve collaboration—Alexander Calder did not personally weld his monumental sculptures—and that craftsmanship too has a history. So it is with the horse: centuries of communication between them and us, and some of it about them to ourselves. As our culture may know ballet as art, or music as art, so too is our dance with horses an art. It’s also a physical art, because equestrianism is dancing and doing so with a partner who does not speak as we speak to each other. For those of us who speak differently, or move differently, whose strength is less than other humans, the interaction with horses opens a new view— their language, their physical beingness in our shared world.

Among equestrianism’s more exotic pursuits is the elevation of carriage driving—upon which our civilization was built—to a collaborative ballet between horse and human via the vehicle; a sight which is occasional in our culture, still with us thanks to Her and His Highnesses of England, and to the Hollywood western or occasional gladiator morality play. And thanks due to the interest of a then-young His Royal Highness, carriage driving has become an evolving sport. As para equestrianism in the saddle has evolved to include both world competitors and aide for veterans and autistic children, it behooves consideration of the art of carriage driving as well: there are those who have carriages that accept wheelchairs and who climb the logistical mountain of traveling with personal mobility aids and prosthetics, the horse and their food, equipment and special vehicles to a gathering of equestrians —the horse show.

Image: A red golf cart with a disability placard sits on the grass at sunset. 

Carriage Driving Horse Shows are specialized events, because some of the competitional elements require land— and land is ever the subject of contention among humans. It’s not as often that one sees a horse-drawn vehicle, and it’s to our loss and sometimes shame as a species. As humans consider their varying forms of existence, and as certain cultures of the globe consider social issues, and as we encounter these social issues under the mortal threat of Covid, our conversation must include disability. Carriage Driving does include disability, and even the Facebook group has over a thousand followers. There are Driving for the Disabled facilities established and more needed. “Horses are healing on so many different levels” says Boots Wright, a carriage driver of 35 years, who was “flung out of a carriage in 2008” and has had “several head injuries”. It is her red golf cart with the disability tag, and it is her international standing as an esteemed carriage driving equestrian that earned Wright the Chef D’Equip position at the 2012 World Equestrian event in Brade, Holland—and where USA ParaDriver Diane Kastema took home the gold for us.

There are associations for world equestrianism, the Federale Equestrian International, which is the governing body for that level of equestrian sport. In the United States, the American Driving Association both governs competition and seeks to include all carriage drivers of every level. To this end, Wright was involved when the ADS “events community was tasked with the creation of a program in 2017” that included Disability Dispensations, so that disabled equestrians could participate in their beloved pursuit.  

Wright fully acknowledges the art in carriage driving, and said in an in-person interview, that carriage driving is art, “because you’re not sitting on the horse, you are sitting behind it. You have two hands and only have hands, eyes, and voice [with which] to see and appreciate the horse’s body language. It can’t be taught by rote; the techniques can be taught, but the way you perceive things is in your own head.” As the artist brings the dream to the physical world, this is a physical display, a ballet, a performance of, as Wright says, “heightened senses”. Anyone who has experienced art can testify to the exhilaration of being engaged in the shared vision between artist and recipient. So too it is to see a horse swirling their beautiful bodies in concert with the hands that wisely guide. An interesting aspect to equestrianism is that the human in partnership with the horse, melds to the watching eye, becomes a centaur, a mythic being. Disabled drivers on the box can become elegance incarnate.

While indubitably every disabled person ought to have the choice of equine assisted therapy, not everyone wants to be an athlete; and while there is a para-equestrian riding team of serious athletes which has serious support, this is not as true among Disabled Competitive Carriage Drivers. Competitive Carriage Driving is itself a sport of mere thousands, with severe curtaining of travel and gathering, that events are happening at all with safety protocols is a testament of love.  The competitors are an open mix of professional equestrians and devoted amateurs, of backyard horse owners and of ones of deeper resources, and there is no distinction once the horse enters the arena at A. Although there are a few, specialized patterns for Disabled Drivers, Wright—who is a long-certified judge—says “I judge the horse not the driver [and that she doesn’t] classify or qualify a person’s disabilities”. It is the horse dancing with the human, abled or disabled, it is their performance together which is on stage.

Because of Covid’s many delays, the World Para Driving event has been rescheduled to this summer of 2021 in Shildau, Germany. Wright will be among the judges there. In the USA, there are fully capable disabled carriage drivers who are skilled enough, talented enough, dedicated enough to go as the team for America.  In the past, disabled veteran Bob Giles brought us home the silver medal, and the American team of disabled drivers have brought home bronze and gold too. Yet, this team is ever struggling for support that matches their own serious endeavor. Whilst the dark view of disability might view this as a social status quo, Covid is changing our culture and new conversations surround diversity. There are strenuous efforts to include disability in all diversity discussions, and this ought to be true for disabled athletes. As the horse equalizes us all as human, so too the horse does in carriage driving to those on the box. It’s just past time to give our support to the disabled, to disabled athletes, to disabled equestrian athletes and to both carriage driving, disabled carriage drivers and the extraordinary endeavor these athletes have made to perform as our team on the world stage.

Notes: 

Photographs taken at Grand Oaks CDE in January 2021. They are taken from a judge's viewpoint. 

The 2021 FEI World Championships for Singles Para Driving will take place Thursday, the 5th of August through Sunday, the 8th in Germany.

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Su Zi is a poet/writer and artist/printmaker and edits, designs and constructs the eco-feminist poetry chapbook series Red Mare. 

Publications include poetry, essays, stories and reviews that date back to pre-cyber publishing, including when Exquisite Corpse was a vertical print publication, and a few editions of New American Writing. More recent publications include Red Fez, Alien Buddha and Thrice. A resident of the Ocala National Forest, with a dedicated commitment to providing a safe feeding respite for wild birds, and for a haphazard gardening practice that serves as a life model for all aspects of her work.

Mentors from April 1st to June 21st

Ann McBee - Writing query letters, novel & story development, submitting to literary magazines, putting a poetry or fiction chapbook together

Note:  Her primary genres are flash fiction and hybrid works.

Ann Stewart McBee was born in Kalamazoo, Michigan. She obtained her PhD in creative writing at the University of Wisconsin–Milwaukee. She has published fiction and poetry in Ellipsis, Parhelion Literary Review, The Pinch, Citron Review, and Cherry Tree among others. Her short story collection titled How Rabbit Went Down and Other Mishaps is available from Hoot-n-Waddle Press. She now teaches English at Des Moines Area Community College, and lives outside Des Moines, Iowa. The limited use of her hands due to Rheumatoid Arthritis does not prevent her from writing in the same way that living in heavy air pollution does not prevent one from breathing.

Jennifer adds: Ann has edited for literary journals and presses in the past.

Method of correspondence:  Email

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Carey Link - Poetry (editing, submitting, offering feedback, query letters)

Poet, Carey Link is from Huntsville, Alabama. She retired after sixteen years as a civil servant at Redstone Arsenal. She is currently working toward a graduate degree in counseling. Carey's poetry has been included in Hospital Drive, the WLRH Sundial Writers Corner, Birmingham Poetry Review, Months to Years Literary Magazine, and elsewhere. Carey has had four chapbooks selected for publication: Through the Kaleidoscope (Blue Light Press, 2020), Awakening to Holes in the Arc of Sun (Mule on a Ferris Wheel, 2016), What it Means to Climb a Tree (Finishing Line Press, 2011), and I Walk a Frayed Tightrope Without a Safety Net (Forthcoming from Finishing Line Press). Carey is honored that her original quote, "I am not defined by an inanimate object. Look at me, not my wheelchair" will be displayed at the 2021 Embracing Our Differences Exhibit in Sarasota, Florida.    

Method of correspondence: Email

We Begin Again (Announcements)

 Starting today, this blog is back in action! In the coming months, we have an essay by Su Zi, poetry by Robert Allen, a literary analysis of "Frankenstein" by Kelley Pasmanick, the return of Spazzy Crafter's column, and more goodies lined up.

Just a few things:

1. The Cripendy Contest has a new deadline of April 30th. Please send us your entries! Before we went on hiatus, we had zero submissions for it. Read the guidelines here.

2. Our mentor program will officially open on April 1st. Before that time, the information for the mentors on deck will be posted. If you're interested in becoming a mentor or mentee, click here to learn more. We hope the year-round program benefits more of our community.

3. As always, we are open to submissions for the blog! Any written work considered must relate to creativity and disability/neurodivergence in some way... however tenuous the connection. Visual and performance art submissions don't have to be about disability or neurodivergence.

Life Studies by SuZi (Visual Art)

Artist's statement about the work:  The drawings are life studies, in that they are drawn from living beings—it’s a bit tricky, as drawing requires staring and staring. The media used was marker on random paper—cardboard, inserts from clothing, etcetera. Some of the drawings ended up as mail art—sent directly through the mail. I have no idea where the originals of any of these drawings happen to be now; all I have of them are these images.

                                                         

Images one and two: Two gray and white cranes are featured. The first drawing has two spots of green foliage in the (mostly white) background with the crane on the left having its head down to check the ground made of loose, dark green strokes. In the second image, the foliage is bluish green with brown accents with the foreground and background having much more color. The second drawing also has the bird on the right checking the ground with the other in mid-step instead of standing still and upright.

                               

Image three:  A closeup of legs in a sitting position as though the artist were looking down at her feet from an angle with the left leg partially obscuring the right foot. The legs are highly shaded with white, yellow, brown, and black. On the feet, the subject wears sneakers that are a blend of purple and yellow with a smidgen of teal. The laces are aqua with the heels and toes being predominantly white except for a purple star on the heel and slight yellow shading on the toes. The top left of the painting says "mocasins" in pink capital letters.

Image four:  A fluffy cat profile drawn in gray outline with a body of white, yellow, orange, and red takes up most of the image. Its tail curls up. Its face looks content. It looks like it might be lying down. There is light coming from the cat's head. The background looks to be a green and blue path which curves around to the back of the cat. Beyond, there is an orange circle off the pathway. In front of the cat are the words "sacred heart" in orange capital letters. Across the top of the piece it says, "Angel cat, angel kitty, angel kat, angel gato" in all caps in yellow, purple, and orange.

Image five:  On a white background is a large turtle in black outline with yellow, red, and teal shading on its white body. The turtle is drawn in profile with her head on the left and neck extended upward. She appears to be walking as her back right foot is raised. The spots of ground beneath her feet has hints of blue. In the bottom left corner of the drawing, "Bella" is written in yellow and underlined in blue.

~*~
Su Zi is a poet/writer and artist/printmaker and edits, designs and constructs the eco-feminist poetry chapbook series Red Mare. 

Publications include poetry, essays, stories and reviews that date back to pre-cyber publishing, including when Exquisite Corpse was a vertical print publication, and a few editions of New American Writing. More recent publications include Red Fez, Alien Buddha and Thrice. A resident of the Ocala National Forest, with a dedicated commitment to providing a safe feeding respite for wild birds, and for a haphazard gardening practice that serves as a life model for all aspects of her work.

  

Petrified by Gender by Kelley A Pasmanick

Trigger warning: Rape, spanking of a child.

An Analysis of Disability in "Petrified Man"

In Eudora Welty’s, “Petrified Man,” impairment thwarts the evolution of the petrified man, Leota, and Mrs. Fletcher. The petrified man is stripped of his masculinity, and is characterized as definitively feminine. Even when the petrified man assumes the identity of Mr. Petrie, he is still considered disabled and is thereafter feminized because he is violent and psychologically disturbed—two traits that are considered socially unacceptable. Leota is incapable of fulfilling her gender prescribed role as wife within societal expectations, but has the capacity to mother, while Mrs. Fletcher, having completely immersed herself in the role of wife, has no grasp of how to mother when faced with it out of necessity. All three characters are stony and rigid in their own idiosyncrasies. This intractability renders them challenged because they are unable to conform to the ways in which society engenders them. 

Leota shares with Mrs. Fletcher, a client of her beauty shop, her impressions of an act she sees at a freak show:

But they got this man, this petrified (emphasis mine) man, that ever’thing ever since he was nine years old, when it goes through his digestion…it goes to his joints and has been turning to stone…[H]is food, he eats it, and it goes down…and then he digests it…He’s turning to stone…All he can do, he can move his head just a quarter of an inch. A course he looks just terrible. (Welty 2151)

She characterizes the man solely in terms of ailment and outward appearance, which reduces him to nothing but an epithet: petrified. Through Leota’s perception of him, he mutates from a man to a nonhuman presence; he is described like a stone and is literally objectified, having been completely stripped of any identification with his sex. In Extraordinary Bodies: Figuring Physical Disability in American Culture and Literature, Rosemarie Garland Thomson defines this process as “enfreakment: that the body envelops and obliterates the freak’s potential humanity. When the body becomes pure text, a freak has been produced from a physically disabled human being” (59). Leota inscribes ineffectuality on the petrified man because his maleness is underdeveloped; his condition of petrifaction destroys any traits of masculinity since with the impairment comes weakness and immobility. He also falls short in regard to aesthetic standards of male corporeal beauty as Leota says, “he looks just terrible”. He is the foil of maleness, obviously lacking the physical strength of youth and showing visible signs of aging. 

The petrified man is a means for her to describe herself and Mrs. Fletcher. His “body functions as the monster manifest in the ordinary rather than the extraordinary. [He] becomes a freak not by virtue of [his] body’s uniqueness, but rather by displaying the stigmata of social devaluation…as the embodiment of what…not to be” (Thomson 59). The petrified man represents everything that Leota and Mrs. Fletcher are not; Leota is the picture of mobility as a beautician “pressing into Mrs. Fletcher’s scalp with strong red-nailed fingers…[and] [s]he dashed the comb through the air…combing hastily…to hold Mrs. Fletcher down by the hair” (Welty 2148, 2149). Her occupation is physically taxing. Likewise, Mrs. Fletcher is the prime example of bodily health as an expectant mother (Welty 2149). Her body is healthy enough to act as a stable environment for the fetus. In effect, the petrified man’s limitation of petrifaction allows the two women to project their own agency and physical abilities in order to exaggerate what he lacks. The petrified man is emblematic of virility simply because he is not virile himself. Interestingly though, the petrified man is juxtaposed with actual virility in the form of the women’s husbands: “Well, Mr. Fletcher is five foot nine and one half…Fred’s five foot ten…Mr. Fletcher takes bending exercises every night of the world” (Welty 2151, 2152). One is able to presume that the petrified man is much shorter than both of the men because his body has been stiffened by his condition, and therefore, contorted. Thomson asserts that “[i]n freak shows, the exhibited body became a text written in boldface to be deciphered according to the needs and desires of the onlookers” (60). Both women refer to their husbands following Leota’s description of petrified man in order to confirm for themselves that their husbands are what society deems they should be—tall and manly: “The figure of the freak is consequently the necessary cultural compliment to the normate position of masculine, white, [and] nondisabled…(64). Their husbands represent the normate, who is only able to assume the normative position if a deviant figure is present, a role involuntarily imposed upon the petrified man.

The petrified man’s handicap functions as a point of focus to examine Leota and Mrs. Fletcher’s flaws. In “Narrative Prosthesis and the Materiality of Metaphor,” David Mitchell and Sharon Snyder further elaborate on this idea previously discussed by Lennard Davis: “The inherent vulnerability and variability of bodies serves literary narratives as a metonym for that which refuses to conform to the mind’s desire for order and rationality…disability acts as metaphor and fleshly example of the body’s unruly resistance to the cultural desire to ‘enforce normalcy’” (206). In effect, disability is used as a literary apparatus to indicate disability in those characters who are not blatantly marked as different. Without the petrified man purposely being petrified, one would be unable to see that both women fail to embrace their prescribed gender roles of wife and mother, respectively. In this way, the petrified man’s disability of petrifaction is employed as a mechanism to illustrate that his own cause of marginalization is used to detect the shortcomings of Leota and Mrs. Fletcher.

The petrified man is portrayed as the contrary of masculinity, while Leota and Mrs. Fletcher act as foils to constructions of femininity; neither serves as a successful female archetype. Leota has not adopted the role of wife as outlined by social mores. Although she is married with the title of wife, she is not submissive, dutiful, or mute, characteristic of the wifely stereotype, but is instead the opposite of the claim Thomson makes that “the freak is represented much like the woman: both are owned, managed, silenced, and mediated by men…both are seen as subjugated by the body” (71). As such, Leota avoids being labeled a freak according to this representation, although she is relegated to freakishness in an alternative manner: she in no way acts as a support to her husband Fred. They are not partners; it is understood that in the patriarchal society in which the narrative occurs, she is not his equal, but she is not his equal for altogether a different reason. She dominates their relationship and exerts power over him. After telling Mrs. Fletcher Fred’s height, Leota says “he’s still a shrimp” in comparison to her (Welty 2151). Just like the petrified man is reduced to an epithet, so is Fred, pejoratively referred to as “a shrimp.” In their relationship, it appears that the societally instituted patriarchy has no bearing. She tells him to go to Vicksburg, and he does (Welty 2154). It is evident then that while whatever Leota says or does to Fred is his reality, her mistreatment of him is still considered foreign and abnormal by those outside of their relationship in keeping with gender expectations. Fred is emasculated and marked as other because he does not conform to the prescribed gender roles of his sex. However, since Leota is the one responsible for his feminization, one is able to argue that she is the one who becomes aberrant through gender deviance and not Fred, since he is not directly to blame for her behavior. Therefore, he is still able to maintain the normative position of a male in the patriarchal society in which they live, shaping Leota into an anomaly. She is impaired because she is wayward; she is obedient enough to societal expectations to get married, but she rebels against the proprieties appertaining to spousal dynamics, so that she never fully actualizes her role of being Fred’s wife. This can be seen by the way she is identified. Throughout the narrative, Leota is only referenced by her first name. There is a literal disconnect between her and Fred because she appears to have not espoused anything at all associated with her spouse’s identity.

Leota, despite her distaste of matrimony and her subsequent distance to it, handles maternal matters with much more grace than her wifely responsibilities. When Billy Boy, Mrs. Pike’s son, is left with Leota at her beauty shop because his mother works elsewhere, one notices in her a potential to mother: “Billy Boy, hon (emphasis mine), mustn’t bother nice ladies” (Welty 2149). Although Billy Boy, Mrs. Pike’s son might be a slight disruption to her while she is working, she smiles at him and speaks to him kindly, calling him hon, a term of endearment. Thereafter, she slaps him, but “brightly” (Welty 2149). Although a slap could be seen as a punishment, the diction of “brightly” allows one to view the action as a positive one done cheerfully or playfully. However, after Leota tells Mrs. Fletcher that a newcomer in town, Mrs. Pike, knows she is expecting, one realizes that when contrasted with Leota, Mrs. Fletcher is not the mothering type: “Well! I don’t like children that much…Well! I’m almost tempted not to have this one…If a certain party hadn’t found it out and spread it around, it wouldn’t be too late even now” (Welty 2150, 2153). Her strong dislike of children, which even borders on antipathy, is a telling discovery since the fact that she is already a wife is so prominently displayed by the title of Mrs. and her husband’s surname of Fletcher. Unlike Leota, she has no first name throughout the entire narrative, and does again the opposite of Leota by identifying herself solely in terms of her husband’s identity. One would then suppose that to undertake the role of mother would be the next logical step in Mrs. Fletcher’s life, but that does not seem to be the case. She is against motherhood to such an extent that she even broaches the taboo subject of abortion, demonstrating that she is willing to go to great lengths in order to spare herself from it. Moreover, at the first mention of pregnancy there is no undertone of joy or thanks in Mrs. Fletcher’s voice; one can deduce that she speaks with a raised voice due to the choice of using exclamation points to punctuate the majority of her dialogue. One may also surmise that her dismay cannot even be justified from nervousness; she is honestly that unhappy to have conceived a child: “All I know is, whoever it is’ll be sorry some day. Why I just barely knew it myself! Just her wait!” (Welty 2149). She has an immediate and severe vendetta against the person who tells Leota the news, even before she knows the identity of the person herself.

When given the opportunity to be maternal with Billy Boy, she flounders miserably. Her first and only interaction with him is one that demonstrates that Mrs. Fletcher really has no maternal instinct, or at the very least, any sort of maternal inclination at all: “I caught him! I caught him! I’ll hold him on my lap. You bad, bad boy, you! I guess I better learn how to spank little old bad boys” (Welty 2156). She spanks Billy Boy, who is not hers to spank, and then giggles while doing it, suggesting that she is immature and does not know how to properly coexist with children; one can infer by her actions that she believes it is acceptable to subdue a child by physically harming him. Ostensibly, Billy Boy is punished by Mrs. Fletcher for having eaten something neither of the two women would have eaten themselves: stale peanuts (Welty 2156). He has done nothing wrong, and instead does them a service, so he is not the “bad, bad boy” that she says he is. In effect, Mrs. Fletcher is stunted by the unfamiliar, and yet, when exposed to the source of unfamiliarity that she shuns—a child, who is older and wiser than the fetus growing within her, and more importantly, who already has a grasp of language, she takes a passive role in widening her scope of maternal experience. By reaching out to Billy Boy aggressively, Mrs. Fletcher furthers the divide between a genuine mother who nurtures and a woman who only maintains the title of mother through biological processes; nothing is learned and she does not develop. She remains static and unchanging, unable to reach the bio-sociologically instilled goal that she be able to mother, and as a result, becomes figuratively petrified.      

The petrified man is dissimilar from Leota and Mrs. Fletcher because their challenges are not visually observable; his petrified state, on the other hand, is much more perceptible, simply because it endures as Simi Linton explains in, “Reassigning Meaning”: “Another implication of the phrase [overcoming a disability] may be that the person has risen above society’s expectation for someone with those characteristics. Because it is physically impossible to overcome a disability, it seems that what is overcome is the social stigma of having a disability” (165). For the petrified man, his petrifaction will remain with him always. He will never get over it, and it will never pass. Furthermore, it imprints upon him with an indelible mark of corporeal otherness, and by extension, he is branded with the same badge of irremovable otherness related to gender. The petrified man is forever entangled in a web of femininity, seen as fixedly effeminate by Leota and Mrs. Fletcher. Both women in conversation about the petrified man repeatedly mention that his head is only able to move a quarter of an inch (Welty 2152).  They view the petrified man’s petrifaction as something to be pitied, thereby distinguishing him as the pitiable object; they impress upon the petrified man their own emotions, making him emotional in character, and as a result, decidedly womanish. In essence, his stone-like state tags him as inherently female, although anatomically male.

His femaleness is drastically lessened and permanently altered when the petrified man’s identity is called into question. One discovers that Leota and Mrs. Fletcher do not know for certain if the petrified man is actually petrified: “Mrs. Pike says (emphasis mine) it goes to his joints and has been turning to stone” (Welty 2151). Leota hears from Mrs. Pike the story behind the petrified man’s gradual petrifaction, but no one actually confirms the validity of it; Mrs. Pike says something, and Leota perceives what she says to have the weight of fact. Essentially, what Leota hears is exactly that—hearsay, and yet, all three women believe his story to be true. They find out that his background and condition of petrifaction have been fabricated, however, when Mrs. Pike identifies the petrified man as Mr. Petrie: “It’s Mr. Petrie, that we stayed with him in the apartment next to ours in Toulouse Street in N.O. for six weeks” (Welty 2155). The transformation from the petrified man into or arguably returning to Mr. Petrie proves that this man is anything but petrified; one can gather that since they are the same person, the petrified man who is Mr. Petrie is not physically handicapped at all. He is only feigning the handicap of petrifaction. He elects to appear disabled whereas some disabled people choose to go through life not identifying their disability: “Disabled people, if they are able to conceal their impairment or confine their activities to those that do not reveal their disability, have been known to pass…[P]assing may be a deliberate effort to avoid discrimination or ostracism, or it may be an almost unconscious Herculean effort to deny to oneself the reality of one’s…bodily state” (Linton 166). As the Pikes’ past neighbor, Mr. Petrie is an able-bodied, ambulatory man. With his ability, he is perceived as normal, taking on a normative position. The identity of Mr. Petrie provides a solution for the petrified man. It permits him to escape his petrified state: “Narrative prosthesis (or the dependency of literary narratives upon disability) forwards the notion that all narratives operate out of a desire to compensate for a limitation…to resolve or correct…a deviance marked as improper to a social context” (Mitchell and Snyder 208, 209). When the petrified man morphs into Mr. Petrie, the being that is both of them is righted. The structure of “Petrified Man,” initially presents the reader with an impairment—the petrifaction of the petrified man, and at the narrative’s conclusion, he exhibits no impairment. The petrified man rehabilitates himself by acquiring the persona of Mr. Petrie; he eludes disablement, and for this reason is recognized by Leota, Mrs. Fletcher, and Mrs. Pike as someone who walks among them, evading the gender degradation accompanied with being petrified. Now, he is like them because his body is more like theirs.

One is able to gather that Welty’s “Petrified Man,” enforces the concept of narrative prosthesis theorized by Mitchell and Snyder because it succeeds in correcting the element of impairment associated with the petrified man, with the presence of the nondisabled Mr. Petrie. This notion of fixedness initiated by the deletion of limitation from the narrative is debunked, however, once Mr. Petrie is viewed in a negative manner: “Mr. Petrie is wanted for five hundred dollars cash, for rapin’ four women in California…” (Welty 2155). The transformation from the petrified man into or arguably returning to Mr. Petrie proves that this man is anything but petrified; he is wanted for rape, intimating that he is physically fit enough to inflict harm on another, and certainly then physical ability is required to subdue someone long enough to rape her. Being wanted for such a violent act classifies Mr. Petrie as able, relieving him of the stigma of being considered by others as more female than male, which is bestowed on him as the petrified man. Assuming that he has committed the crimes in question, the crimes accentuate his masculinity presenting him as wholly and entirely male, exhibiting physical strength and a desire and thirst for power that the rapes satiate. They signify a power struggle over which Mr. Petrie ultimately triumphs because although he is being pursued, Mr. Petrie has already taken advantage of the four females. This sense of physical ability of exerting one’s bodily power over another, causes Leota, Mrs. Fletcher, and Mrs. Pike to focus on Mr. Petrie’s new identity which includes his new ability, while simultaneously, however, positing him as a threat. His new ability directs one to what he does with it: Mr. Petrie rapes, boiling him down to a different epithet: rapist. It can be construed then that Mr. Petrie passes as the petrified man in all probability to avoid being caught for rape, further incriminating himself. In the freak show, he is presumed physically unable, so such an environment would be the last place any law enforcement would look for him—the perfect hiding place. One would believe he would be on the run instead of literally staying put in one location every day, all day. In the freak show, Mr. Petrie is the victim; he escapes the disgrace of being a criminal because as the petrified man he cannot do anything. In the outside world, where Leota, Mrs. Fletcher, and Mrs. Pike reside, he is the victimizer. 

It is apparent then that although Mr. Petrie is able-bodied, he is still impaired because his gender becomes his impairment. He weaponizes his masculinity though the act of rape—a total desecration of the intimacy of sexual intercourse—to attain and maintain power. The weaponization of his masculinity, on its face, characterizes him as ultra-masculine, but its effect on him is, in fact, the opposite. His attempt to further masculinize himself via the act of rape actually weakens him since it signals to others, namely, Leota and Mrs. Fletcher, that he is emotionally and behaviorally disturbed. In his mind, such an invasive, violent act as rape is not flagged immediately as depraved. In essence, the being that is the petrified man and Mr. Petrie is considered impaired throughout the narrative, with the perceived impairment only changing in nature. He transitions from having a perceived physical handicap to having a perceived emotional one, and since the type of impairment changes, he only preserves the semblance of masculinity found in the identity of Mr. Petrie because it turns out to be an illusion; his mind is troubled and contributes to his immoral and criminal behavior. He is perceived as weak, and morally, his character does not reflect the strength and uprightness that his able body does. Due to the grotesqueness of his actions, Mr. Petrie becomes grotesque, although he appears normal and occupies a normative position, just as the petrified man is considered grotesque due to his physical state. According to social standards created by society, weakness is considered a feminine quality. Thus, Mr. Petrie is cast as undeniably effeminate, a designation which never shifts; he is petrified again, despite his efforts to alter his personage. 

In conclusion, though Leota and Mrs. Fletcher achieve certain gender roles, they both have an affinity toward those roles which are more distant to them; they progress to each role out of order. Leota takes to mothering but not marriage, while Mrs. Fletcher clings to the farther removed phase of marriage instead of focusing on the more immediate matter of pregnancy. These gaps in their experiences as women prohibit the cultivation of possible relationships; Leota judges her husband, Fred, lessening his importance and weakening their marital bond. Mrs. Fletcher dismisses entirely any joy and happiness that can emerge from motherhood before she even delivers her child. They do not reach their full potential regarding the gender-specific roles of wife and mother because they do not fully immerse themselves in one role before taking on another. The petrified man is emasculated through no fault of his own, but for his exterior flaws, and even when he transforms into Mr. Petrie, a corrected version of the petrified man because of his normal aesthetic appearance and mobility, the man that is both of them continues to be effeminized by Leota and Mrs. Fletcher because of his questionable mental state. His mental faculties and morals are contrary to those around them, and therefore he is seen as weak and emotional like Leota and Mrs. Fletcher. All three characters are handicapped by the societal roles which they are expected to assume. They are stagnant and never grow into their roles because the contrivance of gender is engrained in each of them in such a way that it turns out to be ineluctable. They are doomed by the inability to experience, and forever petrified. 

Works Cited

Linton, Simi. “Chapter Thirteen: Reassigning Meaning.” The Disability Studies Reader. Ed. Lennard J. Davis. 2nd ed. New York, NY: Taylor & Francis, 2006. 161-172.

Mitchell, David, and Sharon Snyder. “Chapter Seventeen: Narrative Prosthesis and the Materiality of Metaphor.” The Disability Studies Reader. Ed. Lennard J. Davis. 2nd ed. New York, NY: Taylor & Francis, 2006. 205-216.

Thomson, Rosemarie G. “Chapter Three: The Cultural Work of American Freak Shows, 1835-1940.” Extraordinary Bodies: Figuring Physical Disability in American Culture and Literature. New York, NY: Columbia UP, 1997. 55-80.

Welty, Eudora. “Petrified Man.” The Norton Anthology of American Literature. Ed. Nina
Baym. 7th ed. Vol. E. New York, NY: Norton, 2007. 2148-2157.

~*~

Biography: Kelley A Pasmanick is a thirty-four-year-old woman from Atlanta, Georgia. Pasmanick’s work has appeared in Wordgathering, Squawk Back, Praxis Magazine, The Mighty, Loud Zoo, The Jewish Literary Journal, Umbrella Factory Magazine, Breath & Shadow, Kaleidoscope, and Tiny Tim Literary Review. Her work has also been reprinted in Queen Mob’s Teahouse.

If you would like to contact Kelley about this essay or other works, please email me at handyuncappedpen[at].gmail.com and I will pass the message to her.

Market Updates for January 2021

Updates are not plentiful this month. I wish I had more for you. It seems I'm losing momentum with the publications that are inclusive to disabled and neurodivergent writers. If any of you know of some, please reach out to me. 

Added to Magazines, Etc. (For Us)

Pensive Stories

Ailment 

Ayaskala: Mental Health and Art

Capable Magazine

Kalonopia Collective