This paper was written for my a-level literature assignment, for which we had to construct our own question to investigate the story. I chose the most convoluted but ultimately intriguing investigation of the impact of culture in the novels and how this contributes to the overall alienation of key characters.
‘Shelley and Shriver express the privileged entitlement behind the racial and physical prejudices of their respective eras”
Considering this quote, investigate and compare how the influence of cultural identity and patriotic ideology influence how characters come to experience isolation and ostracism in Lionel Shriver’s We Need To Talk About Kevin (2003) and Mary Shelley's Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus (1818)
Society is the formulation of a community of people who share a regulation of specific systems and values. Most would agree that adherence and assimilation to society is connoted as a positive form of living - promoting congeniality and peace. However, ‘society’ is not always a force for good - dubious ideologies and ideals can be perceived as an insidious force in any narrative; providing a norm which characters find themselves opposed to. This exploration is clear in Lionel Shriver’s 2003 landmark novel We Need to Talk about Kevin, and Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley’s 1818 Gothic influential science-fiction novel ‘Frankenstein: or The Modern Prometheus’.
Both novels explore how unease around those whose identities deviate from social norms justifies their isolation, ostracism and seclusion. Their narratives follow a similar structure; a ‘creator’ (issued with the means but lacking foresight) brings a new life into the world. Both novels are expressed through the persona of ‘creators’ who journey through hubris to regret as they suffer the consequences of their thoughtlessness and their ‘children’, whose eventual malevolence reflects the pain of injustices existent in society, and of hatred, prejudice and privilege.
On one hand, we have those who represent entitled members of society such as Victor Frankenstein, Captain Robert Walton, Eva Khatchadourian and, to an extent, the infamous school shooter Kevin himself. Such individuals show the relationship between personal identity and nationalistic condescension, the result of which is a dissatisfied estrangement from the reality they try to escape but ultimately validate in their destructive, imperious attitudes.
Conversely, from the pedestal of entitlement comes enforced solitude for those that do not adhere to social standards - either through ostracism, shunning or imprisonment.
What distinguishes these two novels, however, is the nuanced message of their corresponding authors, in that they both utilise socio-political settings as a moral stage, but they do not bring emphasis upon it analogously. Shriver’s modern novel is an exploration of blame; Shelley’s novel is an exposition of injustice.
Fred Randel noted, “Mary Shelley inherited a usage of Gothic that, in contrast with the expectations of many modern readers, foregrounded history and geography”[1], so utilising culturally normalised prejudicial practices (such as Physiognomy and Imperialism) in the context of a historical, 18th century setting to explore the social climate of the early 19th. Shriver set her novel contemporaneously in the 1990s- setting a greater emphasis upon America as an entity in and of itself; the way in which this modern culture synchronously was fuelling tension and restlessness in the upper middle classes as communities struggle between the ideals of postmodernist liberality and American ‘traditionalism’; what Eva consistently and tellingly calls ‘American optimism’.
This attention to geography is not only restricted to that of conceptual identity - but also in regards to the motif of travel and exploration of foreign lands. Both the characters of Eva and Walton find themselves emphatically defined by their identities as explorers of the world, both ‘pioneers’ in some sense.
Walton of Shelley’s Frankenstein is the voice through which we interpret all events. In our introduction to him, through a series of letters sent to his sister, we learn of his unfolding mission to find the Northern Passage to Asia- an endeavour that drew extreme colonial interest from the European powers from as early as the 14th century [2]. His motivations seem almost unbelievably pure; born out of memories from his boyhood, in which he ‘ran wild on a common and read nothing but our Uncle Thomas’ book of voyages’, his language expressive and optimistic enough to enforce an endearing connection to any reader. The reward of navigating such a new path would be monumental not just economically, but imperially; it signified a new route to dominate the Eastern world. Walton emphasises that ‘life might have passed in ease and luxury; but I preferred glory to every enticement that wealth lay in my path’ conveying an innocent and bold explorer who is openly ambitious and almost childlike in his bravery. At least, this is how Shelley wishes us to understand Walton’s assessment of his own persona in her use of the epistolary form.
His innocent optimism gives way to hubris, as he fails time and again to appreciate peril and his fellow crew members, underestimating them and overestimating his ability. He rates himself even above a man noted for the ‘kindliness of heart’ and nobility - adding hastily, ‘but he is wholly uneducated’. He sees himself as alone and personally unique in his pursuit. Shelley ensures to bring attention to this selfish absorption by his phrasing- which is both notably aggrandising and privileged (hence the reference to the ‘ease and luxury’ of his life in England), while placing priority upon the quality of his own person- evinced by his perhaps excessive use of personal pronouns and desire for social validation. Likewise in We Need to Talk About Kevin, Shriver uses Eva’s profession as a successful travel writer to illustrate the issue of egocentrism. Like Walton, she has little appreciation of the places she visits- vaguely stating that, for example, ‘countries all have different food, but they all have food, you know what I mean?’ the subtle flippant conversational emphasis expressing a bored indifference to other cultures.
Just as Shelley uses Walton’s obsession with the desolate arctic as a symbol of his fruitless ambition, Shriver returns consistently to Eva’s overarching dislike of ‘America’. The presentation of the ‘Nouveau Ranch House’ that Franklin buys as a kind of ‘soulless’ enemy to Eva is used to drive forth the irony of Eva’s dislike of the prospect of an ‘unhistoried house’ and her dream of an ‘old, Victorian’ townhouse, ‘a house that was falling to bits, that dropped history as it dropped slates’ as a direct criticism of the ‘liberal intelligentsia’, as Shiver describes them; “they like to think they are above their own country, and they often have contempt for their compatriots, and they think they're better.”[3]
The sterile ‘wasteland’ of the ranch home is described as ‘some other family’s Dream Home’- which she then criticised by virtue of even being a ‘Dream Home’ in the first place. By capitalising Eva’s concept of the dream home Shriver is forcing it into the same archetypal status as ‘The American Dream,’ However, Shriver utilises this conceptual setting of the Dream Home to illustrate Eva’s contradiction, and therefore her failure to distance herself from American idealism by embodying the superiority it carries. Through the fact that only a number of times previously Eva illustrates her own ‘Dream Home’- the only distinction being the illusion of history and a gritty challenge against commercial modernism. Shriver, in an article, articulates this issue of this kind of person Eva represents; ‘they think that being super-critical of the United States exempts them. When they talk about Americans, they don't think they're talking about themselves.’[4]
Eva and Walton share in their voluntary estrangement - however their attitudes once more speak to the corresponding aims of the writers; where Eva lands blame onto humanity and others for their boorishness and shallow lack of personality, Walton’s ignorance is eloquent with such subtlety that it shows how innate and unrecognised hubris permeates and validates the privileged. A distinction is brought between Walton and Eva by the introduction of Victor Frankenstein to the narrative.
This new voice is welcomed by Walton, most notably because “He was not, as the other traveller [the Creature] seemed to be, a savage inhabitant of some undiscovered island, but a European”’. His identity as a ‘European’ stands out as a mark of glowing unmistakable distinction to Walton, and he consequently puts much effort into befriending and caring for him- seeing him as an immediate equal in intelligence. Frankenstein, however, finds brotherhood in their sharing of the ‘intoxicating draught’ of ambition, and implores the Captain to listen to his terrible tale, to ‘dash the cup from your lips!"
Our presumed protagonist is now illustrated as a literary foil for Victor - a symbolic springboard from which ambition leaps, only to twist into a proverbial belly flop of pain, isolation and death. This ambition relates greatly to social ambition; the desire to ‘accomplish some great purpose’ in the desire for validation and personal glory. Shelley, in this way, is perhaps drawing a connection between exploitation and isolation- in that when those in a position of power abuse their station in the belief that their own personal desire trumps the common good, others will suffer unduly. Shriver communicates a similar notion through Eva’s initial suggestions towards her pregnancy; conversationally she ‘Condenses’ her thoughts: ‘Motherhood… Now that is a foreign country’.
Just as Shelley uses the metaphor of an ‘intoxicating draught’ to represent the personal liberty of limitless ambition, Shriver equates the western obsession with ‘foreign’ exploration with the responsibility of motherhood. There is a shared disillusionment with privileged personal agency in these characters that see themselves as estranged from the social order by their subversive intellectual ambition for validation.
Victor's endured form of ‘self imposed’ isolation is a reflection evident throughout his entire life. Shelley constantly gives occasions in which Frankenstein isolates himself and pushes others far from his person - the cause generally being some form of obsession or passion. For instance, in Victor’s early childhood his manifested fascination with the natural sciences immediately begins to set him apart from his ‘perfect’ and cherished family. Although this is not explicit, Frankenstein confesses (which is a measure of haughty pride, some might say) he “was, to a degree, self taught with regard to my favourite studies. My father was not scientific- and I was left to struggle with a child’s blindness.”
It is explained to us that Frankenstein had a hard time of it as a child - he suffered - he ‘struggled’ and was lame (‘blind’) without adequate guidance.
We are given means to pity Frankenstein - just as we pity Walton’s lack of companionship - however the nature of his self-imposed isolation is not one that Shelly wishes for us to respect or pine for. In her life Shelley herself endured bouts of isolation of which she truly resented. Even during the time in which she wrote this novel- Percy Shelley (her husband) would leave her for long periods to talk of higher matters and things of greater ‘mental faculties’ with his male friends- leaving ‘the absurd womankind [sic. Shelley]’[5] to wait for their return. Frankenstein reflects such intellectual isolation, considering himself elite and apart from others in respect to the power of his mind - and we respond with uncertainty and discomfort.
While Frankenstein's self-confessed adoration for sciences is something he treasures - he openly resents his father for the ancient science he did direct him to read as a child, arguing that ‘train of [his] ideas would never have received the patal impulse that lead to [his] ruin”- blaming even the kindness of his father for his problems.
Carina Tillotson linked this furthermore to the disputed nature of Shelley’s own relationship with her father - following one assertion that he permitted her an unusual opportunity for a girl to nurture her intellect... “But one fact emerges clearly: a great part of her childhood misery was caused by her claiming for herself the intellectual stimulation that the men around her took for granted”.[6]
Carina Brännström wrote in her analysis that the reader ‘understands’ with immediacy ‘that Victor has chosen this isolation from people. No one has ever forced him into solitude’.[7]
It is only following the birth of his creation that Frankenstein's isolation and rejection of others pushed even further into hostility and pain, as he began to resent his isolation rather than use it to boost his superiority. This is where Shelley’s true message of the dangers of isolation become most apparent - but also the message that Victor Frankenstein is despicable because he has no recognition of his privilege as a well off, European male intellectual in the cultural setting of the novel .His constant rejection of opportunity out of selfish pride is contrasted with the tortured life of his creation - deprived of opportunity for love or care.
Comparatively, then, it is germane to discuss the racial prejudices expressed towards the antagonists in both novels.
Frankenstein’s Creature’s ‘birth’ is understood in the history of western literature to be one of the finest examples of the gothic horror of suspense and fear- wherein the detailed account of his ‘yellow skin scarcely covered the work of muscles and arteries beneath; his hair was of a lustrous black, and flowing; his teeth of a pearly whiteness; but these luxuriances only formed a more horrid contrast with his watery eyes, that seemed almost of the same colour as the dun-white sockets in which they were set, his shrivelled complexion and straight black lips.’
Shelley’s description markedly incorporates immense beauty with incredible horror - the positively connoted adjectives such as ’lustrous...flowing...pearly’ as emphatic that these ‘luxuriance’s’ betray how Victor’s hubris, sense of social superiority and racial predilections permitted him to savagely mutilate cadavers in order to ‘select’ features he deems ‘beautiful’, only for the result to be a monstrosity. This creates an explicit critical link to the writings of Lavater - in that it is clear that Shelley’s entire characterisation of Frankenstein is a twisted counterpart to the Swiss psychologist Lavater. “The finger of one body is not adapted to the hand of another body. Each part of an organised body is an image of the whole, has the character of the whole. The blood in the extremity of the finger has the character of the blood in the heart.”[8]
A composite interpretation of perfection from the late 18th century perspective (the period in which this novel is set) is entirely physical.
Mary Cowling maintains that we do not share the underlying assumptions about physiognomy and race that would have otherwise been so blatantly apparent to the general Victorian reader, and thus much of the implication of these physical characteristics can be lost upon us [9]. This applies to the descriptions of the monster that is said to be so repulsive that humans he encounters react violently and impulsively with an almost animalistic desperation to rid himself of it.
In some interpretations, one could argue that the description of its imposing stature and darkness is stereotypically akin to the description of black people in travel and adventure literature that was in high demand and popularity at the time of publication. A singularly racial reading of the novel finds more similarities to this interpretation in the fully fleshed characterisation of the creature; wherein the creature withstands the most harsh and inhospitable of living conditions, as well as portraying feats of inhuman strength and agility- H.L Malchow further highlighted that stereotypes of foreigners during the Victorian era suggesting that they could withstand extreme temperatures and meagre sustenance (taken to the extreme by the creature’s vegetarian diet of ‘acorns’).[10]
Further to this is the physical language of the monster’s face – a distinctive physiognomic analysis perhaps reveals that his ‘straight black lips’ echo the ‘research’ of famous writer and philosopher Johann Caspar Lavater; “There is no display of benevolence in the oblique mouth; and avarice reveals itself in the close-locked lips” [11]thus we could conclude that, as asserted by Cowlings[12], a contemporary reader of Shelley’s may have immediately connoted these explicitly labelled facial features as indicative of the true nature of the creature, which would eventually be proved to this audience by the monster’s later rash and murderous actions. Shelley’s intention here was evidently to make use of her anticipated audiences’ preconceptions and fears so as to create a socialised empathy for Victor's fear, as well as to initiate within the reader a predisposed dislike and wariness of the creature. The sparing prose she utilises is perhaps a testament to this- lacking comparison, hyperbole or much embellished language of any sort. Instead the almost ambiguous delivery permits the imagination of the reader to run with their own ideas of what horrific evil may look like; physiognomy-literate contemporaries of all classes able to chillingly associate lines of innocent prose to the titles that lay under the covers of their pocket-sized phiz-handbooks [13]
However one could counter Cowling's previous assertion that we cannot comprehend these ‘outmoded’ physiological implications and links between physicality and personality – firstly because of the fact that it is made so starkly clear in the modern novel We Need To Talk About Kevin. While Shriver’s novel is rarely looked at with the angle of racial or ethnic analysis, it nonetheless plays an important role within the narrative and in the way that characters define themselves. As mentioned within the opening, Shriver uses the voice of second-generation Armenian immigrant Eva Khatchadourian to subtly indicate how she has lost her sense of identity as anything other than in the figurative and visual.
In-fact, her recognition of her genetic heritage in her own identity on seems to be a point of anxiety for her; “The narrow olive face is instantly familiar: recessed eyes, sheer straight nose with a wide bridge and a slight hook, thin lips set in an obscure determination,” Her description of this child is jarring- word choices sharp and uncaring, each adjective tinged with a violent razor-like sibilance of uncertainty and fear; ‘recessed…sheer...hook’. What jumps out immediately, surprisingly, is how one can attribute the same physiognomy of Lavater from the ‘determination ’ in Kevin’s straight mouth, where Lavater would see avarice - just as would be indicated from Shelley’s monster.
Lionel Shriver once spoke on the subject of her choice to give Eva an Armenian heritage, and her answer was her belief that “there was something dark and aggrieved in the culture of the Armenian diaspora that was atmospherically germane to that book. Besides, I despaired, everyone in the U.S. has an ethnic background of some sort, and she had to be something.”[14] This creative choice is reflected in Eva’s attitude – wherein the ‘darkness’ of her Armenian heritage does not appeal to her with any genuine affection, rather her feeling of it suggesting a deadening morbidity to it that emblemizes the haphazard ‘ethnic background of some sort’ in the hope that it adds something distinctively exotically gothic to the American eye.
One could argue that Shriver’s approach to racial undertone is perhaps less metaphorical than Shelley’s- with Eva explicitly feels ‘gratified’ by Kevin’s ‘noticeably Armenian’ face, but “had hoped that your robust Anglo optimism would quicken the sluggish, grudge bearing blood of my Ottoman heritage, brightening his sallow skin with ruddy hints of football games in fall, highlighting his sullen black hair with glints of Fourth of July Fireworks’’. This line, when read in isolation presents an inherent predilection to the American Dream that Eva ironically critiques throughout the novel. There is perhaps a sense of self-loathing in Eva’s persistence in upholding this air of sophisticated self-entitlement that could be equated to the attitude of Victor Frankenstein, who shares in the identity of reckless creator as well as an individual who independently has decided to act so as to set all society apart from themselves.
When Shriver presents Eva as arguing that the ‘Anglo’ element of his genes is the ‘robust’ structure that she finds beautiful, she has perhaps decided his inherent deviancy is confirmed by his physical appearance; his non-white and non-anglicised features are symbolic of a less than perfect physical presence and sociological association for the narrative voice; she sees him as weak and dangerous for how he stands out. In this way Shriver is presenting the prevailing racial stereotyping of the American milieu.
While Shelley’s creature is estranged from society by his physical appearance, the reader is given an insight into his humanity through his speech, a privilege that the other characters cannot have because they find his presence unbearable. Chris Baldrick asserted that “the monster's most convincingly human characteristic is of course his power of speech”[15]; an integral part of the monster's characterisation which is often overlooked. The poetic and expressive manner in which the creation speaks is in contradiction to the classical silent, inhuman and bestial terrifying creatures in stories - which exist seen, but not heard. Silence- the absence of communication connotes a lack of rationality and conscience - this scares us as we do not know the measure of our safety. It is our privilege as readers, and Shelly’s intention, that the literary form cannot engage the instinctive nerve or social predilections that sight bestows. For the monster, words are his escape, and this is evident from his ‘interactions’ with the De Lacey Family- from whom he learns not only language, but that he has no family, no childhood or background. In a manner of speaking they teach him in the most caring way possible, that he is an anomalous stain.
Understanding that he cannot be seen without risking harm towards his person, the only other individual with whom he interacts with without judgement is the De Laceys’ blind patriarch. His lack of sight means that he ‘cannot judge of [the Creature’s] countenance’- a certain link to the possible critique of prejudicial physiognomy that Shelley implies.
The tragedy of the creature is that his social education has taught him that his deviancy is an affliction; “Had endowed me with perceptions and passions and then cast me abroad as an object for the scorn of mankind”. Frankenstein admits openly to Walton that the creature is ‘eloquent and persuasive’, however he is still not to be trusted by this virtue; ‘his soul is hellish as his form’.
Overall, despite the creature’s initial inner goodness, it seems that Victor falls to the ‘fatal prejudice’ that ‘clouds [the] eyes’ of the De Lacey family, as the creature concludes; ‘where they ought to see a feeling and kind friend, they behold only a detestable monster’. The creature is a strong symbolic emblem of the victims of isolation and alienation, for his true inner purity and ability to communicate with deep evocative humanity does not make him perceptibly human. His consequent involuntary ostracism is indeed shown in Shelley’s insistent use of that very name; ‘monster’ which does not allow any character to bear being in its presence for long enough to give it a real name It is isolated not simply in the way its physical form is received by those around it - but in that its entire identity is defined by repulsion.
One could perhaps note that this is an area of disputable dissonance between the social outcasts of The Creature of Shelley’s Romantic Gothic and Kevin’s bleak murderous rampage. When the creature enacts a crime - when he destroys- it is impassioned by a rage directly informed by injustice. The creature confirms the identity of a monster placed upon him at birth by learning that he can never escape it. It afflicts him in his eloquence that his creator had endowed him ‘with perceptions and passions and then cast [him] abroad as an object for the scorn of mankind’ and it is an identity he regrets so bitterly that when his creator dies, he tragically commits suicide, feeling and knowing that the morality of what he is and has fulfilled is a great tragedy in itself.
Conversely, Kevin is a murderer.
Shriver helpfully makes a note for us that Kevin explicitly (and proudly) associates himself with a unique identity as a murderer. He calls his ‘cellmates’ and fellow murderers ‘colleagues’, he keeps up to date with recent school shootings and muses his opinions of them like it's sport to compare stats and ‘win’ by not following or blaming emotional irrationality like the ‘amateurs’. It reminds us that Kevin is still just a teenager, and his gatekeeping of this specific identity perhaps represents desperation for acceptance even among deviants.
‘He’s a murderer. It's marvellously unambiguous.’ as Eva surmises with snide appreciation. Socially, in comparison to Shelley, Shriver’s situation that sets the stage for the novel is based on concurrent real events; the mid 90s saw a tumultuous growing attention to the rising numbers of school shootings in America[16], which created a wary and painful fear and confusion in the social climate that was wholly alien. Moreso alien was the fact that many of the shooters came from ‘strong family units’ and were predominantly privileged white males.
Despite being separated in publication by more than a century, it is incredible to draw such vivid parallels between the social prejudices of the early 1800s and the Millennium. Mary Shelley’s novel stands as a critique of prejudice- a surreptitious and nuanced romantic expression of the true beauty of nature compared to the fallacies of man’s desire for existential greatness. It reflects the closely held beliefs of her contemporaries, for instance in which Percy Shelley reviewed one clear moral of the novel as an exposition to that fact that ‘Let one being be selected, for whatever cause, as the refuse of his kind - divide him, a social being, from society, and you impose upon him the irresistible obligations - malevolence and selfishness.’[17] Those who deviate are, thus, victims of social prejudice, and Frankenstein explores the emotional distress of all those who come to face it. Conversely, and in succession, Lionel Shriver’s “American Gothic” We Need To Talk About Kevin details how the remnant of imperious injustice trickled down like pitch in a jar to form dark, stagnating pools of blame. Together, what both novels share in this structure is the conclusion that ostracism, hate and apathy can only lead to unbearable tortuous isolation, thus forcing us through the most extreme circumstances to examine privilege, and finally, the unrelenting tumultuous need for validation.
[1] Randel, F.V. (2003). The Political Geography of Horror in Mary Shelley’s “Frankenstein.” ELH, [online] 70(2), pp.465–491. Available at: https://www.jstor.org/stable/30029885?seq=1 [Accessed 26 Mar. 2021].
[2] Northwest Passage | trade route, North America | Britannica. (2019). In: Encyclopædia Britannica. [online] Available at: https://www.britannica.com/place/Northwest-Passage-trade-route
[3] Shriver, L. (2012). “We Need to Talk About Kevin” Author Wonders Why Anyone Has Kids. [online] The Atlantic. 26 Jan. Available at: https://www.theatlantic.com/entertainment/archive/2012/01/we-need-to-talk-about-kevin-author-wonders-why-anyone-has-kids/252002/
[4] Ibid
[5] Shelley, M ed. Jones, F (1944). Letters of Mary Shelley. Norman, Oklahoma: Univ. of Oklahoma Press.
[6] Tillotson, M. (1983). “A Forced Solitude”: Mary Shelley and the Creation of Frankenstein’s Monster. In: J. Fleenor, ed., The Female Gothic. Montreal: Eden, pp.167–75.
[7] Gray, B. and Brännström, C. (2006). An Analysis of the Theme of Alienation in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. [online] . Available at: http://www.diva-portal.org/smash/get/diva2:1016264/FULLTEXT01.pdf.
[8] Lavater, Johann C. 1789. Essays on Physiognomy for the Promotion of the Knowledge and the Love of Mankind. Translated by Thomas Holcroft. 1st ed. London, England: G. G. J. & J. Robinson. 38.501(1).
[9] Codell, J.F. (1990). The Artist as Anthropologist: The Representation of Type and Character in Victorian Art by Mary Cowling, and: Worlds of Art: Painters in Victorian Society by Paula Gillett. Victorian Review, 16(2), pp.72–77.
[10] Malchow, H.L. (1993). FRANKENSTEIN’S MONSTER AND IMAGES OF RACE IN NINETEENTH-CENTURY BRITAIN. Past and Present, 139(1), pp.90–130.
[11] Lavater, Johann C.(1849). The physiognomist’s own book: an introduction to physiognomy; Philadelphia, Kay & Troutman
[12] Ibid
[13] Tracy, D. and Grinnel, G n.d. “Physiognomy and Romantic Era Culture.” Romanticism and the War on Terror. Accessed Feb 9, 2021. https://people.ok.ubc.ca/ggrinnel/ROM/lavater%20physiognomy%20and%20culture.htm.
[14] AGHAJANIAN, L. (2016). “Intersections: Clash of cultures hits the writing world.” (Glendale, LA Times), oct 14, 2016. https://www.latimes.com/socal/glendale-news-press/tn-gnp-me-liana-20161014-story.html.
[15] Baldick, C. (1987). “The Monster Speaks: Mary Shelley's Novel.” In n Frankenstein's Shadow: Myth, Monstrosity, and Nineteenth-Century Writing. Oxford, United Kingdom: Clarendon Press. http://knarf.english.upenn.edu/Articles/baldick3.html.
[16] Shapiro, H. (2018). The Wiley handbook on violence in education : forms, factors, and preventions. Hoboken, Nj John Wiley Et Sons.
[17] Shelley, P.B. (1832). ON FRANKENSTEIN; OR, THE MODERN PROMETHEUS. Available at: http://knarf.english.upenn.edu/PShelley/frankrev.html.
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