Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein is credited with introducing the concept of the “mad scientist” and his “sympathetic monster.” Since then, many authors have taken up this mantle, and Ursula LeGuin is no exception. In her novel, The Lathe of Heaven, Dr. Haber is the epitome of the mad scientist character. Beyond this, a few questions emerge from an analysis of the text when approached from a Frankensteinian framework: What is George Orr’s role in the story? Does he become, in a sense, Haber’s Creature? If so, is he sympathetic? On the other hand, is Orr also to blame for the chaos channeled by Haber? My position is that George Orr is an amalgam of both mad scientist and sympathetic monster. In many ways, Orr seems to be used in conjunction with the Augmentor by Dr. Haber as a “means” to the “ends” Haber hopes to achieve. However, although he feels his choices are limited, he is still a person with agency who could refuse to be used in such a manner; my assertion is that this make him a co-creator/ mad scientist with Haber. Isolation and loneliness seem key to both Haber and Orr, Orr changing his course only when he “gets a little help from his friends.” Haber, by contrast, has no friends and gives himself over entirely to his scientific ambitions, just as Victor Frankenstein works in isolation at the university. Thus, in this way, the juxtaposition of Orr and Haber in the story allows LeGuin to show the importance and role of relationships in human experience to temper people from becoming addicted to and consumed by drastic pursuits.

To begin, Dr. Haber’s presence provokes the question of what qualifies as a mad scientist. Initially, Orr does not consider Haber to fit into this category because he believes that Haber, though in contrast with his own views of the world, has honorable reasons for his actions. Early on, Orr says of Haber, “But he’s not a mad scientist, […] he’s a pretty sane one, or he was…his ends are good, aren’t they? He wants to improve life for humanity. Is that wrong?” (Le Guin 75). This recognition is acknowledged numerous times through the repetition of the words the reader later comes to regard as ironic: “Haber was […] a benevolent man” (Le Guin 77). However, later in the novel, Orr concludes:

“[…]it’s not right to play God with masses of people. To be God you have to know what you’re doing. And to do any good at all, just believing you’re right and your motives are good isn’t enough. You have to be…in touch. He isn’t in touch. No one else, no thing even, has an existence of its own for him; he sees the world only as a means to his end […]He is insane. He could take us all with him if he did manage to dream as I do. What am I to do?” (Le Guin 156)

Orr philosophizes, as most people probably would, that Haber is “mad” for trying to usurp the role of God, without the wisdom of God. Further, as Jennifer S. Bankard notes, “A narrative centered around a mad scientist […] either presents a moral dilemma that human civilization encounters in the wake of scientific or technological advancement or depicts science as unequivocally threatening (13). Although the effective dreams themselves are certainly threatening, they are not due to science or technological progress. As critic Carl D. Malmgren notes, this novel is not strictly science fiction, but more science fantasy because Orr’s effective dreaming abilities are out of the realm of scientific possibility (320). Thus, the real threat comes from Haber’s use of Orr to create a machine–the Augmentor–which will allow Haber himself to dream effectively, based solely upon his personal views of how the world should be. This “advancement” created by Dr. Haber qualifies him under Bankard’s definition both through his use of science and its resulting dilemma: Just because the world can be changed, should it be? Who gets to decide?

Dr. Haber displays notable similarities to Victor Frankenstein, the prototypical mad scientist. Both are scientists who have created something which has been demonstrated to have serious and negative consequences; Frankenstein has created a being which has become murderous, while Haber has created a means by which to completely alter reality, already resulting in the “deaths” of millions of people, the starting of Alien invasions, and introducing the possibility of an infinite number of other realities. Indeed, Dr. Haber’s creation is even more far-reaching and potentially devastating in its results than Frankenstein’s monster.

Another similarity between the mad scientists is that both believe inordinately–and with hubris–in the integrity of their scientific endeavors. Frankenstein says “A new species would bless me as its creator and source; many happy and excellent natures would owe their being to me” (Shelley 57). For him, the possibility of bringing the dead back to life seems like a prospect to celebrate; indeed, he even imagines future generations praising him for this work. Similarly, Haber tells Orr that their historical predecessors had “tried to run away from evil, but we, we’re uprooting it–getting rid of it, piece by piece!” (Le Guin 130). As Malmgren has noted, “Haber tries to use Orr’s power to real-ize utopia” (314). He envisions a world in which historically human problems such as racism, overpopulation, and violence do not exist. Haber’s irony is that he wishes to save the entire planet of people, but he does not seem to care about any one individual. This is the final, crucial way in which Haber and Frankenstein are linked as mad scientists: in their pursuits, both men become isolated from friends and family.

Prior to believing in Orr’s abilities, Haber, as Orr’s therapist, is cold and clinical in their sessions, and, we are told, “felt a thrill of enjoyment of his own skill, his instant dominance over the patient”(20). While hypnotizing Orr the first time, he first refers to him as John, then thinks, “No, what the hell was the subject’s name?”(21). Indeed, Haber’s “scientific approach […] transforms the Other into a machine, a Subject into an Object” (Malmgren 316). In other words, Haber does not even recognize Orr–one of the only people with whom he interacts–as a person; rather, he uses him as the “means” to his “ends.”

Whereas Frankenstein had comparatively stronger connections with his friends and family members, we are told that, “Haber considered himself a lone wolf. He had never wanted marriage nor close friendships, he had chosen a strenuous research carried out when others sleep, he had avoided entanglements” (115). Although it is unclear why Haber has made these decisions for his life, what is obvious is that he has chosen the progress of science over human connections. Frankenstein does this as well, telling Walton, “And the same feelings which made me neglect the scenes around me caused me also to forget those friends so many miles absent, and whom I had not seen for so long a time” (Shelley). Both men recognize their own isolation and choose it, a fact which Thomas H. Schmid connects to the quality of addiction. According to Schmid, “As addiction develops, the social unacceptability of the behaviour begins to lie increasingly outside the realm of social rituals, and the addicted person acts increasingly in secret and in defiance of those rituals” (22). Certainly, both men are delving deeper into behaviors which society would consider taboo, if not downright unethical. Each one conducts his work in necessary secrecy, concealing his acts from public view.

Interestingly, in his article, Schmid argues that Shelley would have been aware of the effects of addiction because of her close friendships with opium addicts like Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Schmid also draws a connection between these two figures based upon both authors’ private journal accounts expressing personal feelings of loneliness, defined by a “sense of inexpressible solitude, whose sole ‘listener’ is the private page, becomes clear. What is important here in terms of addiction is the assertion of a difference from others so complete that it actually precludes the possibility of a sympathetic audience” (24). These authors shared a sense of intense loneliness with their characters, and the regard of self as Other creates a larger rift between themselves and others around them. Whether the addiction is to drugs, or ambition, the result is the same: progressive alienation from human connection.

This human need for expression and acceptance is one which is largely absent from Frankenstein’s life, and entirely absent from Haber’s. In Frankenstein’s account, he is regretful about this period in his life, using his tale to caution his young friend Walton against destructive ambitions. The tragedy of Haber is that he seems to realize his own isolation too late, and he cannot return to previous relationships, as they never existed. When he believes that Orr is not coming back, we are told that:

[…]he found it terrible to be alone, all alone in the huge indifferent Park, hurrying, and almost running, toward the Institute, because he did not have anywhere else to go […]

He listened to the radio, but it would not listen to him. He was all alone, and nothing seemed to be real in solitude. He needed somebody, anybody, to talk to, he had to tell them what he felt so that he knew if he felt anything. This horror of being by himself was strong enough that it almost drove him out of the Institute and down into the crowds again, but the apathy was still stronger than the fear. He did nothing, and the night darkened” (115).

This necessity for Haber to tell his story to another person is shared with several notable characters in Frankenstein, as well as George Orr. Barbara Johnson, in her discussion of the “monstrous” nature of autobiography, applies her idea to three Frankenstein characters: Robert Walton, Victor Frankenstein, and the Creature. She states:

All three autobiographies here are clearly attempts at persuasion rather than simple accounts of facts. They all depend on a presupposition of resemblance between teller and addressee: Walton assures his sister that he has not really left the path she would wish for him, that he still resembles her. Frankenstein recognizes in Walton an image of himself and rejects in the monster a resemblance he does not wish to acknowledge. The teller is in each case speaking into a mirror of his own transgression. The tale is designed to reinforce the resemblance between teller and listener so that somehow transgression can be eliminated. (n. pag)

Walton, Frankenstein, and the Creature all express a desire to eliminate their transgressions through a type of confession. This is something Haber never seeks. George Orr, however, does enlist help from the lawyer, Heather Lelache, whose function in the story never proves to be legal, but personal. When Heather finds Orr in his remotely located cabin, he is finally able to tell someone his account of the end of the world, as well as his subsequent effective dreams. He says, “He made me dream about peace […] So I made the Aliens. To give us something to fight.” She responds, “You didn’t. That machine of his does it.” However, he insists upon taking some blame by saying, “No. I can do fine without the machine, Miss Lelache” (99). Prior to this instance, the only person with whom he could share his account was Dr. Haber, an event which at first made Orr feel relieved because someone believed him, but as Haber became increasingly exploitative, he was not a figure which Orr would like to “resemble” through the telling of his story. On the other hand, Orr’s relationship with Heather Lelache provides him with, as Schmid articulates, “Shared feelings of isolation by definition [which] create its opposite: community and healing” (24). In this cabin scene, I argue, Heather affords Orr the opportunity to communicate his experiences, providing him with a human connection and catalyst to finally take a stand against Haber’s abuses. Orr’s invention of an Alien who gifts him a Beatles record serves to further underscore this theme. He listens to the song,“With a Little Help from My Friends,” and that is precisely what he needs.

George Orr’s position is certainly a difficult one. Though not addicted to anything, he appears to be isolated because of his inability to express his feelings of guilt, helplessness, and Otherness. He is, in a very real sense, similar to Frankenstein’s Creature; fashioned in a unique way, through no fault of his own, he must attempt to overcome his differences with those around him. Like the Creature’s efforts to educate himself and socialize with humans, the attempt Orr makes to stave off his effective dreams with medication has been ineffective, backfiring by legally placing him under Haber’s care. If he refuses to work with Haber, he may be sent to jail or a mental facility. Cutting back on his sessions would give Haber the power to withhold the dream suppressing drugs (Le Guin 75). In the cabin, indeed, he informs Heather Lelache that he sees suicide as the only way out, although he does not believe in it. This exploitation of Haber’s power certainly makes Orr a victim; his “special skill” is being harnessed and combined with the power of the Augmentor, manufacturing a monster which will likely bring about disastrous results for all inhabitants of Earth. Thus, the patterns recorded by the Augmentor are like transferring Orr’s DNA and genetic abilities to Haber; therefore, Orr is a part of the monster.

Yet, despite all of the evidence of his victimization, even before Orr decides that Haber is mad, he says, “What I object to is his using me as an instrument, a means–even if his ends are good” (Le Guin 45). He clearly understands he is being used, yet he does very little about it. Further, Orr is the only person on the planet who is aware of how powerful his dreams are, and although the situation is not in his favor, he should have made a concerted effort to resist Haber sooner. His compliance and half-hearted protests ultimately allow Haber to mimic Orr’s dream patterns through the Augmentor and harness the ability to dream effectively for himself. Perhaps he could have proven his story true to the authorities, had he followed through with his attempts to stop Haber from exploiting him. It seems likely that there would be a black market for his dream suppressor; he could have gathered a supply and hidden himself in his cabin. He might even have tried to control an effective dream to change his own situation. Surely, if Haber could use Orr’s dreams to find a way to give himself promotions, a new house and a new office, Orr could have found a way to supply himself with the medication needed to insure ineffective dreams. His passivity makes him a co-creator, complicit in Haber’s mad science experiment.Without Orr to study, Haber would never have been able to create his monster.

In Frankenstein, Victor Frankenstein is isolated by his choices and addiction to scientific endeavors. He has numerous opportunities to share his story; however, he chooses not to. This behavior avoids the problem rather than confronting it; his Creature is still on the loose and threatening to kill everyone Victor holds dear. It is not until the end of his story when he finally gives his confession to Robert Walton and regains a human connection through the purging of his crimes. Frankenstein’s Creature tries to tell his story and find a sympathetic listener, but no such listener exists for him. In The Lathe of Heaven, Dr. Haber dies attached to his machine, but to no person; he never understands the humanity in the humans he tries to save. George Orr alone emerges slightly successfully from his plight, but only “with a little help from [his] friends.” As is often the case with Frankensteinian texts, the lines between Creator and Creature are blurred, but one thing seems clear: isolation, whether assigned or self-imposed, is a destructive state.

Works Cited
Bankard, Jennifer S. Testing Reality’s Limits: ‘Mad’ Scientists, Realism, and the Supernatural in Late Victorian Popular Fiction, Northeastern University, Ann Arbor, 2013, ProQuest Dissertations & Theses Global: The Humanities and Social Sciences Collection, https://search-proquest-com.lib-proxy.fullerton.edu/docview/1346229750?accountid=9840.

Johnson, Barbara. “My Monster/My Self (Book Review).” Diacritics, 12.2 (1982): 2.

Le Guin, Ursula K. The Lathe of Heaven. New York: Scribner, 2008. Print.

Malmgren, Carl D. “Orr Else? The Protagonists of LeGuin’s ‘The Lathe of Heaven.’” Journal of the Fantastic in the Arts, vol. 9, no. 4 (36), 1998, pp. 313–323., www.jstor.org/stable/43308369.

Schimid, Thomas H. “Addiction and Isolation in Frankenstein: A Case of Terminal Uniqueness.” Gothic Studies, vol. 11, no. 2, Nov. 2009, pp. 19-29. EBSCOhost, search.ebscohost.com.lib-proxy.fullerton.edu/login.aspx%3fdirect%3dtrue%26db%3dmzh%26AN%3d2010297087%26site%3dehost-live%26scope%3dsite.

Shelley, Mary. Frankenstein. Ed. Johanna M. Smith. Third ed. Boston: Bedford St. Martin’s, 2016. Print.