To compare the creature's sense of his original identity with that contained in the
opening sentence (I:1:1) of Victor Frankenstein's narrative is to mark a dramatic
contrast in self-conception and cultural endowment. Also, as has often been noted,
a second and striking context exists between these first memories and those of Adam
in representing himself to the Archangel Raphael in Paradise Lost (VIII.250-96).

The supposition is that the Creature has been able to remain within the general confines
of woodlands during this three-day passage. Now, he comes out into the open—which
is to say, into arable ground. Unwittingly, he is stumbling upon his first contacts
with human society.

In other words, the Creature is now a year old. During this revolution of the year
he has learned to speak and read French, has read four books and an account of his
creation, and has awakened to intellectual and emotional desire. The anniversary of
his creation suggests to him that he is now ready to start out on life.

The war of gods and titans first recounted in Hesiod's Theogony is likewise such a
heavenly battle: it was won by Jupiter only after Prometheus came over to the side
of the gods on the strength of Jupiter's promise to ameliorate the human condition,
a promise he later betrayed. Percy Bysshe Shelley develops this scenario in Asia's
long recital of the legendary history in Prometheus Unbound, II.iv.32ff.

To a later reader accustomed to the 1818 edition or to the customary biographical
terrain of Mary Shelley's family associations, these phrases come with a sense almost
of shock. Even within the terms set by the novel itself they do not seem to ring true
to the general distance kept thus far between the characters and conventional religious
expression. The reader has the choice of construing this interpolation as a sign of
a shift in Mary Shelley's rhetorical palette to accommodate an early Victorian religious
sensibility (which has been asserted by some critics). On the other hand, this could
be interpreted instead as an attempt on her part to prepare us for the deep, if primitive,
religious faith that will eventually be invoked by Victor to sanction his single-minded
pursuit of revenge against his Creature. In other words, not all rhetorical alterations
portend changes in the author's own opinions.

The elder De Lacey, we will soon learn, is blind.

It is one thing for the Creature to utter a pantheistic oath (previous paragraph),
but to put a second immediately into the mouth of Victor is to emphasize that where
man plays God, he has no other deity to whom to turn to right his injustices but himself.

Here the Creature unconsciously echoes the sentiments of Victor Frankenstein ("if
our impulses were confined to hunger, thirst, and desire, we might be nearly free")
from earlier the same morning of their conversation (II:2:3). That the Creature speaks
of heat where Victor uses "desire" reflects his very first conscious experiences (II:3:3,
II:3:6), but desire is also at this point very much on his mind, as the ensuing paragraphs
will stress.

The seven-year old William seems to be drawing his points of reference from reading
fairy tales and romances. This is of a piece with the experiences of the older members
of the household when they were his age, particularly Henry Clerval, who wrote a fairy
tale at the age of nine and was passionately fond of romances (see I:1:11).

Refuse left over from a meal: given the Creature's fastidious vegetarianism, these
would seem to be part of the "roots and nuts" he goes on to mention as part of his
fare.