A Conversation with Daniel A. Olivas about Monsters, Bigots, and CHICANO FRANKENSTEIN, by Megan Figueroa
Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein and the various interpretations of it are ubiquitous. Frankenstein is an icon in literature, and modern retellings allow us to explore Mary Shelley’s original themes, like what makes us human, or, more appropriate for this issue, what makes a monster? Daniel A. Olivas explores this topic through his modern retelling, Chicano Frankenstein (March 5, 2024, Forest Avenue Press). Here is a conversation I had with Olivas about monsters and his novel (edited for clarity and length):
Let’s start with a verbal Rorschach test: I say monster, you say:
Bigots!
Speaking of bigots, I wanted to talk to you specifically about how you use the word “monster.” In Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, Victor refers to his creation as “the creature,” “the wretch,” “the devil,” and even “the thing.” And, of course, he also uses the word “monster.” Frankenstein’s creation even refers to himself as a “monster.” How do you use and manipulate the word “monster” in Chicano Frankenstein?
I think one of the brilliant aspects of the original novel by Mary Shelley is how malleable the concept of monstrosity is. In my novel, I borrowed from her iconic image of the creature to kind of flip it on his head. My creature - known only as ‘the man’ - is actually a very handsome fellow who is monstrous only because he has one white arm, one white leg that were stitched onto him when he was reanimated. So, there is an element to him that looks different, causing children to point and stare, causing parents to pull their children away, in the same way, that people who are considered different in our society are viewed with suspicion. And that could be skin color, that could be a physical disability. It could be many different things. So I think the very brilliant and young Mary Shelley saw that. I think she very intentionally created her creature to be a vessel if you will, for the reader to either see themselves in or perhaps see other people in those shoes.
One of the really interesting things to me about Mary Shelley’s novel is that the monster, or creature, only becomes a murdering beast when he’s rejected by his creator: when he’s rejected by his father, basically. And he is suffering from a solitary existence that is just soul-crushing. And in her novel, at one point, the creature pleads with Dr. Frankenstein to make a woman for him because he doesn’t want to be alone. Of course, Dr. Frankenstein fights against this request. He eventually starts, but he destroys what he starts, which just drives the creature into deeper despair and into more of a murderous rage.
In my novel, the monster, if you will, is the political gamesmanship of the president of the United States, Mary Beth Cadwallader, and her political team, who want to turn the reanimated population into a political football.
How does that mesh with your definition of a monster? Is POTUS a monster? Or is it her acts that are monstrous? Do you see a difference between those things?
In my novel, the politicians who use bigotry as a weapon to get votes, those people are monsters. In my novel, the reanimated population, 12 million in the United States, is simply living and working. As noted by one character, they are particularly honest because their personalities in the reanimation process are wiped, and in terms of culture and personality, they are kind of a clean slate. They maintain their education, they maintain their skills, but they have been wiped clean otherwise. So, in truth, they are simply people trying to make a living. And in some ways, they resemble the 12 million undocumented immigrants living in the United States.
And you make a lot of connections [between the undocumented community in the United States and the reanimated population in your novel]. You talk about how it is upsetting for people that there are scholarships for them and that there have been unionization efforts among them. It’s hard not to make the connection as a reader, and I’m sure you wanted to make it quite explicit even if you weren’t using the language “undocumented” but “reanimated population.”
Right. There is also a complaint that there are special classes on the reanimated people.
Yeah, Critical reanimation studies, right? *Laughter* I love it.
I have to tell you, it’s hard to write political satire when you have actual politicians in our world being so damn ridiculous.
It’s a truth-is-stranger-than-fiction situation, right?
Yes, in many ways. I tried to use some of the tropes we see in the political arena to tell my story. In fact, what inspired me to write this novel was watching anti-immigrant political rhetoric during last year’s midterm elections. I had already written fiction and plays that addressed the anti-immigrant politics of our country, but I just felt compelled to write a novel this time. I wrote this novel in 50 days.
That’s amazing. It had been percolating for so long?
It had been percolating for a year, I would say, and I read the original Frankenstein back in high school. I love the old Universal black-and-white movies based on Frankenstein - which are very different from the novel. The idea of taking the Frankenstein novel and using it as a springboard to write a novel that addresses the anti-immigrant sentiments of the country seemed kinda too perfect.
When I pull away from the main character and the people he’s interacting with, I switch to the political side. I switch to CNN and MSNBC, or to the White House where the President is plotting with her communications people, to commercials that are specifically anti-reanimation and try to paint them as a hoard of animals that can and perhaps will cause great damage to “real Americans” and so the president relies upon her catchphrase, “Make America Safe Again” or MASA.
I knew it. MASA! I thought, “He must have done this on purpose.”
Done on purpose and will connect with people who understand Mexican food, and for those who don’t, they should look it up.
And try it!
And try it.
There’s a lot of humor in the book. Even though there are a lot of difficult issues, I tend to write funny, and I feel as though the most important thing is to make sure the book is entertaining, engaging, and interesting, and if it teaches a lesson or makes people think, then that is a plus as far as I’m concerned. Sometimes, I think humor is a better way to deal with difficult issues.
What do you think is the antidote to what makes us monsters? Do you think humor is a part of that? Or is that something different? Is it, like from Mary Poppins, a little sugar helps it go down kind of thing?
I think a spoonful of sugar does make the medicine go down. And I remember seeing that film when it came out. I was five years old. It was one of my favorite films as a child. So yeah, in some ways, the Mary Poppins rule of addressing difficult issues may be one way to approach it. Also, I think by making my reanimated characters likable and three-dimensional and human can perhaps reach people and make some people realize, Hey, the person I considered to be very different than me isn’t all that different.
One of [Victor Frankenstein’s] mentors says something, and I wonder if you think this is monstrous. M. Walden, the chemist, tells Victor, “The labors of men of genius, however erroneously directed, scarcely ever fail in ultimately turning to the solid advantage of mankind.” So I wonder, do you think that is a monstrous statement?
Or is the person speaking monstrous?
Exactly.
It sort of reflects the myth of Prometheus. The subtitle or the second title of Frankenstein is The Modern Prometheus. Prometheus is a god who steals fire from Mount Olympus. He is filled with hubris. Can you imagine doing such a thing? And he gives it to the human race. And the fire, in a sense, is giving modern technology to the human race. He is punished for this [by Zeus], and the way he is punished is fascinating. Every day, an eagle comes down to him and pecks out his liver. At that time, the liver was believed to be the center of human emotions. So, he had his emotions picked out of him.
You look at that and ask who is the monster? Is it Zeus who is punishing Prometheus? Or should Prometheus really have done what he ended up doing? You could say because of Prometheus, the human race eventually inexorably polluted the world, created the atomic bomb, and created weapons of mass destruction, all because we had fire given to us, stolen where it was safely kept in Mount Olympus.
And, of course, the other side is that fire helped us write, produce, and create art.
This reminds me of a quote from Ursula K. Le Guin, “To make a thief, make an owner. To create crime, create laws.” Is Prometheus at fault because he did something he shouldn’t, or is the problem that stealing fire shouldn’t have been a crime at all? I think about this a lot in my day-to-day life. Who are the ones making the laws [that people break]? I think about the POTUS you’ve written, the VPOTUS you’ve written. They are the ones influencing the law, and they are monsters. They’re bigots!
One of the ways [the politicians in your novel] are monsters is through their language. In the reanimation community, “stitcher” is considered a derogatory term. Some consider it a slur. Do you think that using slurs makes someone a monster?
Yes. But it’s fascinating because the slur is meant to create someone else into a monster. It’s dehumanizing in this situation where the reanimated community is referred to in ugly ways as “stitchers,” which makes them less than human.
It reminds me of something I’ve written about before. When I was in high school, I played football for a Catholic high school. One time, during a break, the coaches were arguing about who had written the song “Blue Suede Shoes.” And one coach said, Elvis. And I piped up, and I said, Carl Perkins. Being a good Chicano, I knew my oldies. That coach said, “What do you know, you stupid Mexican?” in front of my fellow classmates. That coach also taught history at my high school.
Ironic.
And he shut me down completely with that slur. And, of course, he had the power because he was the coach, and it was the early 70s. You didn’t make a fuss. Anyone who has walked in this world and has grown up with those types of slurs will understand how dehumanizing it is.
And the person who relies on a slur to dehumanize someone is really the monster in the end.
It’s interesting because the word “Mexican” isn’t in itself a slur in all contexts. I think about how my dad doesn’t like to be called “Mexican” he prefers “Mexicano,” and he prefers it from other Mexicanos, other Chicanos. “Mexican” feels cacophonous against his ears when it’s from someone outside of the community. I feel like he just can’t be sure if it’s going to be used as a slur or not, so he’s constantly ready for it. I wonder if you feel that?
The word “Mexican” has been used with so many other adjectives to make it ugly. “Dirty Mexican,” “Dumb Mexican,” “Stupid Mexican.”
“Lazy Mexican.”
Exactly. All these stereotypes and ugly slurs are intended to make us Other and to put us in our place. Those words have sullied the word “Mexican.” That’s why some writers, like myself, we reclaim it. The word “Chicano” also was derogatory. It was reclaimed in the 60s and 70s. And I proudly use it here. And in my novel, the Chicano Frankenstein is a doctor, and he’s a surgeon. He’s well respected. Other than being shut down by the President of the United States and forced to use his surgical skills for other things and not reanimation. My Mexicans in this novel are everyone, from folks who have worked in the fields to a partner in a law firm.
It was so important for someone like me to read Chicano Frankenstein. Faustina [the love interest] makes references that I can connect with as a Chicana. It’s lovely.
Thank you. Books were such a big part of my childhood. My parents always made certain we had our library cards. Even when there wasn’t a lot of money, they always, always told us college was in our future if we worked hard. There’s a bigoted concept that our culture is stupid or dumb, but our culture is actually extremely rich in literature and in the arts and music. Those are all things I grew up with that my parents gave their five children.
We grew up with great pride in our history and in our culture. And we were also raised to appreciate other people’s cultures.
At one point, Faustina asks, “How can you have a future without a past?” When she has moments like that when she is wondering about these things, is it because of how close she is to her culture and how meaningful it is to her? Is she pointing to the fact that the man, being wiped out of his past, was missing out on his culture?
Yeah. That’s one of the things I think that comes through in the novel: the man’s wiped history is a metaphor for assimilation. Faustina makes that comment as she’s struggling with whether or not to be with this reanimated person who has no history and no family connections. We lose a lot in assimilation. But you know, assimilation not only has been forced upon us, it’s also a way to survive.
What do you think of as the opposite of a monstrous act?
Love. Love and kindness. Something so simple. You know, I like to tell people that if you can just be kind in your life, you can make things so much easier all around. And it’s not always easy. I’m just as impatient as the next person. By day, I’m a government lawyer, so I often deal with very contentious situations in the legal profession. I do environmental enforcement, land use, and affordable housing work for the state, and it can be difficult at times not to lose one’s temper when confronted with injustices and things that are only making the lives of people more difficult. But, you know, I try. We’re all imperfect, and I sometimes fail.
Before I let you go, is Frankenstein your favorite monster?
Well, I’m going to have to correct you. *laughter*
I’m sorry, yes! Please do. *laughter*
Dr. Frankenstein is a man, and the creature has no name.
I’m going red in the cheeks because I know this so well, but it’s easy to make the mistake.
And the reason why is when the novel was published in 1818, it was almost immediately adapted for the stage in France and in England, and there was a conflation of Dr. Frankenstein and his creation that started to happen as the plays were being developed and so that conflation is basically why most people erroneously refer to the creature as Frankenstein.
I’m glad I made the mistake so that you could share that with me.
I will say that Universal, of course, made the most famous Frankenstein movie. Universal, very smartly, in the 1930s and 40s, decided to be the studio that had the most iconic monsters, so I’m not quite certain who my favorite monster is because the Universal monsters, which I loved growing up, included the Frankenstein monster, the creature from the Black Lagoon, the Invisible Man, Dracula, Mummy, the Wolf Man, so I just don’t know which is my favorite. I kind of love them all, and at one point or another, when I was young, I purchased models of all of those monsters, put them together with glue, and painted them.
It seems like you were destined to write Chicano Frankenstein, and I’m so glad you did. Thank you for writing it.
Dr. Megan Figueroa is a writer, linguist, and scientist who believes we need more humanity in science. She is also co-host, along with Dr. Carrie Gillon, of the podcast, The Vocal Fries. The show is all about the ways we are jerks to each other about language. They are finishing up a pop science book about the same topic. She lives in Tucson, AZ, with two dogs and a musician. You can find her at meganfigueroa.com