Book report: The Picture of Dorian Gray, by Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde was so clever and witty that knowing him in person must have been quite tedious. That's an example of an epigram: a pithy quotable phrase, often paradoxical or satirical. I couldn't write one to save my life, but Oscar Wilde was famous for them ("I can resist everything except temptation.") and most of his characters talk just like him.
You probably already know the story of this book. Dorian Gray is an extraordinarily handsome young man. An artist friend, Basil (Why, yes! This *is* a British novel.), paints a portrait of Dorian that captures not only his beauty but also his still-innocent soul. Another friend, Lord Henry, lets Dorian in on the news that youth and beauty are fleeting, so Dorian makes a wish that his own appearance should never change, but the ravages of life and aging should only appear on the portrait. He gets his wish. He never ages or shows any signs of the harrowing life he leads, while the portrait grows more loathsome all the time.
The first third of the book is fairly dull, consisting mostly of Basil and Lord Henry drooling over Dorian. (If you didn't know before that Oscar Wilde was gay, this book would pretty much settle the point.) Then Dorian decides to live for pleasure alone, and things pick up a bit. He devotes himself to decadent, deplorable, degraded, and despicable dissolution and debauchery. (It's funny how many "d" words have to do with sin.) Oh, you want examples? Well, the book is pretty coy about what he actually does, but it does mention that, among other heinous activities, he – are the children out of the room? – collects ministers' vestments. I know, right? And not just chasubles, either. We're talking surplices and orphreys here! No wonder the book was so controversial.
This is the kind of book that uses the words "languidly" and "ennui" a lot. Having just finished reading "The Grapes of Wrath," I couldn't help feeling that these wealthy and idle men should have their money taken away and given to the Joads, part of my plan for redistribution of wealth within literature. There's not a lot of action, and when Dorian finally stabs the portrait and ends up killing himself, we're more than ready for it.
As usual, I'm not clever enough to spot the underlying theme of all this. The characters seem to argue constantly that a hedonistic life is the only one worth living, but I can't say that I'd want to trade places with any of them, though.
In the movie "The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen," the character Dorian Gray uses his arrangement with the portrait as a kind of super power: he can't be hurt or killed. Any damage to his body only affects the portrait and not himself. I kind of like that slant on things better than Wilde's.
I can't really recommend this book, even though it's a classic (or possibly *because* it's a classic). I much prefer Oscar Wilde's play "The Importance of Being Earnest" which is just as witty and has more than one female character.
Oscar Wilde was so clever and witty that knowing him in person must have been quite tedious. That's an example of an epigram: a pithy quotable phrase, often paradoxical or satirical. I couldn't write one to save my life, but Oscar Wilde was famous for them ("I can resist everything except temptation.") and most of his characters talk just like him.
You probably already know the story of this book. Dorian Gray is an extraordinarily handsome young man. An artist friend, Basil (Why, yes! This *is* a British novel.), paints a portrait of Dorian that captures not only his beauty but also his still-innocent soul. Another friend, Lord Henry, lets Dorian in on the news that youth and beauty are fleeting, so Dorian makes a wish that his own appearance should never change, but the ravages of life and aging should only appear on the portrait. He gets his wish. He never ages or shows any signs of the harrowing life he leads, while the portrait grows more loathsome all the time.
The first third of the book is fairly dull, consisting mostly of Basil and Lord Henry drooling over Dorian. (If you didn't know before that Oscar Wilde was gay, this book would pretty much settle the point.) Then Dorian decides to live for pleasure alone, and things pick up a bit. He devotes himself to decadent, deplorable, degraded, and despicable dissolution and debauchery. (It's funny how many "d" words have to do with sin.) Oh, you want examples? Well, the book is pretty coy about what he actually does, but it does mention that, among other heinous activities, he – are the children out of the room? – collects ministers' vestments. I know, right? And not just chasubles, either. We're talking surplices and orphreys here! No wonder the book was so controversial.
This is the kind of book that uses the words "languidly" and "ennui" a lot. Having just finished reading "The Grapes of Wrath," I couldn't help feeling that these wealthy and idle men should have their money taken away and given to the Joads, part of my plan for redistribution of wealth within literature. There's not a lot of action, and when Dorian finally stabs the portrait and ends up killing himself, we're more than ready for it.
As usual, I'm not clever enough to spot the underlying theme of all this. The characters seem to argue constantly that a hedonistic life is the only one worth living, but I can't say that I'd want to trade places with any of them, though.
In the movie "The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen," the character Dorian Gray uses his arrangement with the portrait as a kind of super power: he can't be hurt or killed. Any damage to his body only affects the portrait and not himself. I kind of like that slant on things better than Wilde's.
I can't really recommend this book, even though it's a classic (or possibly *because* it's a classic). I much prefer Oscar Wilde's play "The Importance of Being Earnest" which is just as witty and has more than one female character.
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