The Picture of Dorian Gray is a nasty, poisonous little book - and I loved it. It had long been on my list of books to read before I died and I cannot for the life of me think why I waited so long. My experience of Oscar Wilde had hitherto been limited to his fairy-tales and Salome, so it was exciting to finally get my teeth into his only novel. Out of all the books on my reading list, it was probably the most highly anticipated. The premise of the book is familiar enough, having infiltrated the public zeitgeist on multiple levels, but it was the style that interested me most. Wilde is well renowned for his elaborate flamboyency, his sumptuous, flowing metaphors and his hedonistic philosophies. Dorian Gray is a sinful tale of decadence and decay, a riveting exploration of art, morality, the human psyche and aestheticism. It is written in third person narrative, covering twenty relatively brief chapters. For those who have not read it, I will attempt to sum up the plot without revealing crucial details.
After completing his magnum opus, a portrait of the titular character, painter Basil Hallward reluctantly introduces his beautiful young friend to the corruptive Lord Henry Wotton. Quickly seduced by Lord Henry's hedonistic principles, in a moment of reckless vanity, Dorian prays that he may never lose his good looks and that his portrait may age instead. His Faustian prayer is answered and Dorian throws himself into abandonment and debauchery, with the painting bearing the marks of his depravity. Under the dangerous influence of Lord Henry, the eternally youthful Dorian sinks lower into vice, eventually resorting to criminality in his quest for new sensations. Critically slammed upon its release in Lippincott's Monthly Magazine, the novel was accused of reflecting too much of Oscar Wilde's personal character, including his homosexual tendencies. Wilde suggested that the real outrage of the critics was in response to Dorian Gray holding up a mirror to a society rotten and hypocritical at its core. The book perfectly captures the final decade of the nineteenth century, tottering on the brink of a social revolution and a dissemination of traditional Victorian values. Lord Henry represents the paradoxical catalyst for exposing the sophistries of the upper classes, with Dorian acting as his naive tool in launching a new age of epicureanism.
The strongest part of the novel for me was the witty repartees between the characters. All the best lines are reserved for Lord Henry, as he delivers some truly memorable quotes in the form of piquant epigrams containing uncomfortable truths about morality and life. I also came across many instantly recognisable quotations which I never knew belonged in Dorian Gray. It was fun to discover the origins of such gilded phrases and added immensely to my enjoyment of the text. Although familiar with the plot, I still found myself devouring the pages in my eagerness to know how it would all end. Even those with no appreciation for high literature will assuredly find enough of a compelling narrative to make the read worthwhile. Unlike a certain recent film adaptation, the element of the supernatural is subtly and cleverly worked in, imbibing more a sense of dread, revulsion and loathing than outright horror. The subject material is unpleasant, spiteful and cruel, yet at the same time deliciously intoxicating.
If I had to make one complaint about the book, it would be chapter XI. By far the longest in the novel, it spans a period of many years, acting as the equivalent of a montage through time. The chapter acts as an exhaustive catalogue of Dorian's journey through decadence and is quite tedious to read. Others may disagree with me here, but I have always thought the 'catalogue of ships' (see The Iliad) device in novels to be fairly gimmicky. None of the characters are particularly likeable, but then that is the whole point of the book. We are presented with a vision of grotesque indulgence and the inevitable consequences of such, yet whether one takes the book as a moral warning or not is arguably irrelevant. There are many ways of interpreting Dorian Gray, all of them equally legitimate. To me, it is first and foremost a tale about the loss of innocence and corruption of the soul. I would recommend the book to fans of gothic horror and cigar smoking dandies.
After completing his magnum opus, a portrait of the titular character, painter Basil Hallward reluctantly introduces his beautiful young friend to the corruptive Lord Henry Wotton. Quickly seduced by Lord Henry's hedonistic principles, in a moment of reckless vanity, Dorian prays that he may never lose his good looks and that his portrait may age instead. His Faustian prayer is answered and Dorian throws himself into abandonment and debauchery, with the painting bearing the marks of his depravity. Under the dangerous influence of Lord Henry, the eternally youthful Dorian sinks lower into vice, eventually resorting to criminality in his quest for new sensations. Critically slammed upon its release in Lippincott's Monthly Magazine, the novel was accused of reflecting too much of Oscar Wilde's personal character, including his homosexual tendencies. Wilde suggested that the real outrage of the critics was in response to Dorian Gray holding up a mirror to a society rotten and hypocritical at its core. The book perfectly captures the final decade of the nineteenth century, tottering on the brink of a social revolution and a dissemination of traditional Victorian values. Lord Henry represents the paradoxical catalyst for exposing the sophistries of the upper classes, with Dorian acting as his naive tool in launching a new age of epicureanism.
The strongest part of the novel for me was the witty repartees between the characters. All the best lines are reserved for Lord Henry, as he delivers some truly memorable quotes in the form of piquant epigrams containing uncomfortable truths about morality and life. I also came across many instantly recognisable quotations which I never knew belonged in Dorian Gray. It was fun to discover the origins of such gilded phrases and added immensely to my enjoyment of the text. Although familiar with the plot, I still found myself devouring the pages in my eagerness to know how it would all end. Even those with no appreciation for high literature will assuredly find enough of a compelling narrative to make the read worthwhile. Unlike a certain recent film adaptation, the element of the supernatural is subtly and cleverly worked in, imbibing more a sense of dread, revulsion and loathing than outright horror. The subject material is unpleasant, spiteful and cruel, yet at the same time deliciously intoxicating.
If I had to make one complaint about the book, it would be chapter XI. By far the longest in the novel, it spans a period of many years, acting as the equivalent of a montage through time. The chapter acts as an exhaustive catalogue of Dorian's journey through decadence and is quite tedious to read. Others may disagree with me here, but I have always thought the 'catalogue of ships' (see The Iliad) device in novels to be fairly gimmicky. None of the characters are particularly likeable, but then that is the whole point of the book. We are presented with a vision of grotesque indulgence and the inevitable consequences of such, yet whether one takes the book as a moral warning or not is arguably irrelevant. There are many ways of interpreting Dorian Gray, all of them equally legitimate. To me, it is first and foremost a tale about the loss of innocence and corruption of the soul. I would recommend the book to fans of gothic horror and cigar smoking dandies.
Rating: 4/5
No comments:
Post a Comment