A review by jamesliggins
The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde

challenging dark funny mysterious reflective tense medium-paced
  • Plot- or character-driven? Character
  • Strong character development? It's complicated
  • Loveable characters? It's complicated
  • Diverse cast of characters? No
  • Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

4.5

 The Picture of Dorian Gray follows the titular young man who is praised left and right for his physical beauty and youth. He makes friends in a painter, Basil Hallward, who creates the portrait, and an eloquent cynic, Lord Henry Wotton, who influences Dorian’s self-obsessive tendencies. What follows is the story of what can happen when you value beauty and pleasure above everything, and everyone, else. 

Oscar Wilde’s novel initially garnered attention because of the provocative-at-the-time description of male/male attraction. The 1891 version of the book contains omissions of much of the “explicit” homoeroticism found in the original 1890 publication, making it more palatable to the attitudes of the time.  I highly recommend getting an edition of this book (mine is Penguin Classics) that contains notes that describe the changes made between the editions. The story within the story is of Wilde’s efforts to write a novel authentic to his experience while being bent towards what is acceptable. The novel was used against Wilde in his trials, as evidence of his ‘gross indecency’. 

This novel asks the question “what does it profit a man if he gain[s] the whole world and lose[s] his own soul?” Wilde teases apart the themes of art, beauty, morality, and relationships, and explores each of them individually to prove that they are all interconnected. By giving the soul a physical form in the painting, both the reader and the characters are able to stare directly into its eyes to see how our actions and relationships shape the soul. Between the witty dialogue and thoughtful reflection, this book is both an exciting read and a fascinating look into the mind of a man whose life informed his art, and whose art directed his life. 

“Words! Mere words! How terrible they were! How clear, and vivid, and cruel! One could not escape from them. And yet what a subtle magic there was in them! They seemed to be able to give a plastic form to formless things, and to have a music of their own as sweet as that of viol or of lute. Mere words! Was there anything so real as words?” 
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