A reader asks:
   "What do you think is the relationship between the sub-title "The Modern
   Prometheus" and the novel "Frankenstein" itself?"

Tom's reply:
   I think it is important to see that Victor is not everything that Walton thinks
he is. That is key, at least in my mind, to understanding the twist in the subtitle.
Prometheus means forethinker, and Prometheus' brother was Epimetheus, whose
name means afterthinker. It was the failure of Epimetheus that prompted
Prometheus to bring fire to man and thus arouse the wrath of Zeus. Epimetheus
equipped all the animals with means of survival, all except man. Now, in the
story Victor tells, does Victor appear to be more like Prometheus or Epimetheus?
I think it is the latter that Victor more resembles.

My reading of the novel, in which the discrepancies of the novel are understood
as being deliberately formed parts of the whole machinery of the story, in part
is founded on what is known of Shelley's education and the ideas of her father. This
differs from the usual reading, which would have Mary following Percy's
attraction to Greek mythology. That usual reading ignores the fact that Godwin
(Mary's father) had begun to influence Percy, giving him a list of books to read
and stressing the importance of history. It was the Roman, not the Greek, that
Godwin saw as the best source of instruction in virtue and fulfillment.

Godwin said let us examine society, discover its flaws, and correct them.
Shelley's novel says good idea, but let us begin with examining the flaws
common to all the individuals that comprise society. I agree with Shelley.
Her novel, when read carefully and without assuming that she was a careless
writer and a careless reader of her own work, is most useful in this regard.
It really is, as the preface suggests, an exercise in untried resources of mind.

The novel's subtitle is like the novel in that it is not what it appears to be until
more careful reading and examination are done. Victor's tale at three crucial points
lacks the internal evidence that he says it has. Nature testifies, if we care to pay
attention, that Victor is not telling the truth.  So it stands to reason that the twist in
the subtitle is that Prometheus Victor is not.

The Greeks gave the world great tragedy. The Romans gave the world civil rule
and satire. The world was entertained by the tragedy and was too enervated
(see Shelleys' preface) for the satire. So, as not so careful readers, who like to
think ourselves to be thinkers, we read for the tragedy and are entertained.
The satire, which is revealed only when the discrepancies (and there are so many)
are dealt with, we fail to recognize at all. Note that the purpose of satire was vital
instruction.

Shelley provides us with plenty of reason for hope. The creature is not dead and
will be seen better from the higher parts of the ship, where the watchmen are, than from
Walton's window. Yet, the creature's rescue would detract from the neatness of the
tragedy. So we ignore the best part of the genius of the novel. Of, course, we can't be
sure that Frankenstein is dead, Walton has thought him to be so often.

The Romans thought  the Greeks to be like children. The Greeks would be satisfied
with the entertainment even if it meant missing what might be accomplished. This
is important and connects with Spinoza's theological-political treatise, which Mary
and Percy had been reading and translating.

The Romans had no forethinker and afterthinker mythical brothers. No, the
figure that began every year was Janus, who faced forward and backward at the
same time. The Romans success was in avoiding tragedy whenever possible.
Janus and the prevention of or the just resolution of conflict were at the core
of the Roman mind.

So I think Shelley's subtitle was intended to seem an apt fit for the reader who
thought it was a tragedy with gothic or romantic decorations. But, to the robust
reader, it is a wry comment, an apt subtitle for the best and most Roman satire
since the days of Juvenal and Persius. It is much needed for the way it can teach
us to use our heads. Hail Mary Shelley!