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visorforavisor's reviews
32 reviews
Different, Not Less: A Neurodivergent's Guide to Embracing Your True Self and Finding Your Happily Ever After by Chloé Hayden
emotional
funny
hopeful
informative
inspiring
reflective
medium-paced
5.0
I don’t know if I’ve ever read anything else that touched me so wonderfully. I read the whole thing within the space of twenty four hours (the first time in a while that I’ve read a book that quickly). It made me feel less insane.
So many things that I’d thought were just me being dramatic, so many things I’d thought everyone dealt with, so many things I’d thought I’d always be alone in: all of these, explained in such beautiful and precise terms that I can’t count the number of times I cried while reading Different, Not Less.
Chloé Hayden describes meltdowns as feeling, for an autistic person, like watching a horror film when the disc is scratched in such a way that you’re just getting the jumpscare over and over. I’ve never felt understood in my meltdowns before. Not on that level. It’s such a perfect description of what I’ve experienced at least weekly (and at times daily) for my entire life, and it gives me hope. A simple description having such a profound effect seems silly, but that’s what this whole book is. It’s just page after page of Chloé Hayden making autistic (and ADHD) readers realise that we aren’t alone.
It’s more profound than not being alone, though. Knowing, intellectually, that there are other autistic people in the world (and even having autistic friends) did not prepare me for the enormous wave of emotion evoked by the passages in this book that frankly and accurately describe aspects of autism so rarely talked about by the wider media because non-autistic people are able to ignore them.
This is by an autistic person, and for autistic people. Both are revolutionary.
Cannot recommend enough, no matter your neurotype.
So many things that I’d thought were just me being dramatic, so many things I’d thought everyone dealt with, so many things I’d thought I’d always be alone in: all of these, explained in such beautiful and precise terms that I can’t count the number of times I cried while reading Different, Not Less.
Chloé Hayden describes meltdowns as feeling, for an autistic person, like watching a horror film when the disc is scratched in such a way that you’re just getting the jumpscare over and over. I’ve never felt understood in my meltdowns before. Not on that level. It’s such a perfect description of what I’ve experienced at least weekly (and at times daily) for my entire life, and it gives me hope. A simple description having such a profound effect seems silly, but that’s what this whole book is. It’s just page after page of Chloé Hayden making autistic (and ADHD) readers realise that we aren’t alone.
It’s more profound than not being alone, though. Knowing, intellectually, that there are other autistic people in the world (and even having autistic friends) did not prepare me for the enormous wave of emotion evoked by the passages in this book that frankly and accurately describe aspects of autism so rarely talked about by the wider media because non-autistic people are able to ignore them.
This is by an autistic person, and for autistic people. Both are revolutionary.
Cannot recommend enough, no matter your neurotype.
Content Warnings
Moderate: Ableism, Bullying, Sexism, Sexual assault, and Suicide
How to be a Victorian by Ruth Goodman
funny
informative
reflective
relaxing
slow-paced
5.0
Ruth Goodman has absolutely excelled with How To Be a Victorian. It is a near-comprehensive, innovative and captivating look into the life of the ordinary Victorian, from the famine-starved family in Co Cork to the Welsh miner and to the sex worker of the East End.
This book goes from the start to the end of the day, and thoroughly investigates pretty much every aspect of daily life in all social classes.
Passages I found particularly interesting include: sport differences between different social classes, the secret signals used to indicate homosexual desires, the development of girls’ education, the role of the pub in daily life, and the descriptions of meals.
Throughout the book, Ms Goodman draws from a variety of primary sources such as diaries, adverts, and the like, as well as her own personal experience living in a Victorian lifestyle (for example, that wearing a corset does not bother her when she wears one that fits her while doing the sort of work that the back support of a corset was designed for, and likewise that she finds the supposedly bland Victorian diet to be so because it perfectly suits the needs of a body doing Victorian work). The book is expertly cited at every point and hilarious in its transferring of Victorian habits to modern day. (As an example, the same calisthenics that helped Victorian young women stretch after spending all day at a sampler is declared to also help modern young women who spend all day at a laptop!)
With this book, a really good understanding of real life between 1837 and 1901 is achieved, skilfully and gracefully. I cannot recommend this book enough.
This book goes from the start to the end of the day, and thoroughly investigates pretty much every aspect of daily life in all social classes.
Passages I found particularly interesting include: sport differences between different social classes, the secret signals used to indicate homosexual desires, the development of girls’ education, the role of the pub in daily life, and the descriptions of meals.
Throughout the book, Ms Goodman draws from a variety of primary sources such as diaries, adverts, and the like, as well as her own personal experience living in a Victorian lifestyle (for example, that wearing a corset does not bother her when she wears one that fits her while doing the sort of work that the back support of a corset was designed for, and likewise that she finds the supposedly bland Victorian diet to be so because it perfectly suits the needs of a body doing Victorian work). The book is expertly cited at every point and hilarious in its transferring of Victorian habits to modern day. (As an example, the same calisthenics that helped Victorian young women stretch after spending all day at a sampler is declared to also help modern young women who spend all day at a laptop!)
With this book, a really good understanding of real life between 1837 and 1901 is achieved, skilfully and gracefully. I cannot recommend this book enough.
Content Warnings
Minor: Rape and Violence
Valiant Ladies by Melissa Grey
adventurous
emotional
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
4.0
To be clear: despite the criticisms I have, Melissa Grey writes very well and I would read more of hers.
However, there was a clear lack of any level of research about the general context in which the story is set. There does seem to have been research done on the real Ana de Lezama and Eustaquia de Sonza, to a good enough extent to be able to riff on it and do her own thing with it (kudos to Ms Grey for that), but the historical research seems to have been very little beyond what is required to make the plot work.
This book falls into the classic “corsets are evil and therefore women have it really tough” trope. Corsets didn’t exist at this point in time (centuries out, sorry), and the precursors to their precursors had only really just begun to permeate class boundaries and be worn by those other than the ultra-rich. They certainly weren’t any sort of a cultural norm at this point and nobody would be having a conniption if a girl in her late teens wasn’t wearing one. (Not even taking into account the time it would take for fashions to travel from Europe to colonial Peru.) Additionally, those boned garments that did exist were not worn beneath a dress but rather were the bodice itself of the outfit.
I understand absolutely that the book is not trying to be historically accurate, but to show (real) female oppression by utilising a heavily unresearched trope that was not the case at any point in history seems like little effort was put in, especially given the use of terms such as “breeches” for the male clothing worn.
Basic research on horses was also not done. (If a horse is bolting, don’t flatten yourself to its neck. That is telling the horse to speed up.)
However. I can recognise that accuracy is not in any way the point of this book, and so long as you’re not pulled out of a story by innacuracies like I (historical clothing nerd) am, then you should be fine!
The story-telling and prose of the book is really good. I cared about the characters, thought Sebastian was extremely well-written. I appreciated the discussion of wealthy women’s pressure to marry in order to properly support the many people who would be dependent on them. The inclusion of sex workers in a historical story is something not done often enough and it was really beautifully written in this case.
Fictional exploration of real-life queer historical figures is something I love too and would really like to see more of!
However, there was a clear lack of any level of research about the general context in which the story is set. There does seem to have been research done on the real Ana de Lezama and Eustaquia de Sonza, to a good enough extent to be able to riff on it and do her own thing with it (kudos to Ms Grey for that), but the historical research seems to have been very little beyond what is required to make the plot work.
This book falls into the classic “corsets are evil and therefore women have it really tough” trope. Corsets didn’t exist at this point in time (centuries out, sorry), and the precursors to their precursors had only really just begun to permeate class boundaries and be worn by those other than the ultra-rich. They certainly weren’t any sort of a cultural norm at this point and nobody would be having a conniption if a girl in her late teens wasn’t wearing one. (Not even taking into account the time it would take for fashions to travel from Europe to colonial Peru.) Additionally, those boned garments that did exist were not worn beneath a dress but rather were the bodice itself of the outfit.
I understand absolutely that the book is not trying to be historically accurate, but to show (real) female oppression by utilising a heavily unresearched trope that was not the case at any point in history seems like little effort was put in, especially given the use of terms such as “breeches” for the male clothing worn.
Basic research on horses was also not done. (If a horse is bolting, don’t flatten yourself to its neck. That is telling the horse to speed up.)
However. I can recognise that accuracy is not in any way the point of this book, and so long as you’re not pulled out of a story by innacuracies like I (historical clothing nerd) am, then you should be fine!
The story-telling and prose of the book is really good. I cared about the characters, thought Sebastian was extremely well-written. I appreciated the discussion of wealthy women’s pressure to marry in order to properly support the many people who would be dependent on them. The inclusion of sex workers in a historical story is something not done often enough and it was really beautifully written in this case.
Fictional exploration of real-life queer historical figures is something I love too and would really like to see more of!
Content Warnings
Moderate: Misogyny, Sexual assault, Murder, and Classism
Minor: Racism and Suicide
The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson
challenging
dark
mysterious
tense
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
Decent book. I’m still confused by the late-nineteenth-century belief that ugliness correlates with moral depravity (see also: Dorian Gray), but I did enjoy this and I liked that it wasn’t dragged out. It reads nicely at the length it is. Discussions of people’s good and bad natures are interesting. Also, general understanding of this book lied to me. It’s not about a guy with a personality disorder. It’s about a guy who wants to get away with doing bad things.
Content Warnings
Moderate: Murder
Frankenstein: The 1818 Text by Mary Shelley
challenging
dark
mysterious
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
Good book. Read it for school.
Content Warnings
Moderate: Murder
Minor: Xenophobia
Torchwood: SUV by Ash Darby
funny
lighthearted
tense
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
Tosh and Ianto are the best friendship pairing in Torchwood. I love them so much. And this was just a delight. Gareth David-Lloyd and Naoko Mori act wonderfully together.
As ever, Ianto is autistic and his meltdown in this story was very emotional for me. Poor Ianto. I love him.
As ever, Ianto is autistic and his meltdown in this story was very emotional for me. Poor Ianto. I love him.
The Story of the Hundred Promises by Neil Cochrane
adventurous
emotional
hopeful
inspiring
lighthearted
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
5.0
I can barely begin to adequately express how wonderful this book was. The fairy tale of Beauty and the Beast, reimagined with a trans boy, was always going to be something that I would enjoy, but the delight of The Story of the Hundred Promises goes far beyond that.
The most wonderful thing about it is the world-building. This goes further than anything else I’ve ever read with the concept of “gender is a social construct”, by pointing out that not only is gender constructed, but the way in which it interacts with our lives is too.
For instance, our main character Darragh introduces himself sometimes as “Darragh he Thorn”. This is a custom which exists in some of the places in the book, the structure of “[given name] [pronoun] [family name]”. In other places, he introduces himself as “Goodman Darragh”. Not only do the customs vary from place to place as he travels around, but none of the customs match modern Western ones. It’s so wonderfully thought-out. Before a person introduces themself with their gender, the narration consistently uses neutral pronouns for them. It is delightful.
The use of the e, em, eir, eirs, emself pronoun — while signposted in a note at the beginning of the book — is so natural throughout the book. I can only commend Neil Cochrane on this. Fair play. Not only does the pronoun feel natural, it feels normal: and not only that, but widespread.
Yet more world-building that i really enjoyed: the sailors’ tattoos. Darragh is a sailor; he and his fellow sailors wear a variety of tattoos to communicate things to each other. Where “[given name] [pronoun] [family name]” and “[honourific] [given name]” are too formal for the rough sailors, Darragh has a mermaid’s-purse with a harpoon to indicate that he is to be referred to as male, and a friend of his wears interlocking triangles to show that she enjoys the company of other women. Darragh has a three-faced head to show he is trans. It’s wonderful.
Additionally, while many of the queer characters do experience negativity from others on the basis of their queerness, this reads on the whole as individual cruelty rather than a small part of more consistent or organised bigotry. When Darragh’s father does not believe Darragh to be a man, or when [redacted]’s friend refuses to believe they cannot experience romantic love, these do not feel like common experiences.
It was refreshing and happy to see it acknowledged that these things happen in a story that also tells us that discrimination is not an inherent part of society.
As a side point, I really enjoyed the enormous number of Celtic names in this. Just good fun.
The exploration of Merrigan’s feelings about eir genderlessness and what it means for em was, I thought, beautifully done, and the word “gender-kin” is just perfect.
To finish up a very very positive review, I must note that Neil Cochrane has done a tremendous job of making the narration sound like a fairy tale without it sounding in any way stilted. Bravo.
Please, please go and read this.
The most wonderful thing about it is the world-building. This goes further than anything else I’ve ever read with the concept of “gender is a social construct”, by pointing out that not only is gender constructed, but the way in which it interacts with our lives is too.
For instance, our main character Darragh introduces himself sometimes as “Darragh he Thorn”. This is a custom which exists in some of the places in the book, the structure of “[given name] [pronoun] [family name]”. In other places, he introduces himself as “Goodman Darragh”. Not only do the customs vary from place to place as he travels around, but none of the customs match modern Western ones. It’s so wonderfully thought-out. Before a person introduces themself with their gender, the narration consistently uses neutral pronouns for them. It is delightful.
The use of the e, em, eir, eirs, emself pronoun — while signposted in a note at the beginning of the book — is so natural throughout the book. I can only commend Neil Cochrane on this. Fair play. Not only does the pronoun feel natural, it feels normal: and not only that, but widespread.
Yet more world-building that i really enjoyed: the sailors’ tattoos. Darragh is a sailor; he and his fellow sailors wear a variety of tattoos to communicate things to each other. Where “[given name] [pronoun] [family name]” and “[honourific] [given name]” are too formal for the rough sailors, Darragh has a mermaid’s-purse with a harpoon to indicate that he is to be referred to as male, and a friend of his wears interlocking triangles to show that she enjoys the company of other women. Darragh has a three-faced head to show he is trans. It’s wonderful.
Additionally, while many of the queer characters do experience negativity from others on the basis of their queerness, this reads on the whole as individual cruelty rather than a small part of more consistent or organised bigotry. When Darragh’s father does not believe Darragh to be a man, or when [redacted]’s friend refuses to believe they cannot experience romantic love, these do not feel like common experiences.
It was refreshing and happy to see it acknowledged that these things happen in a story that also tells us that discrimination is not an inherent part of society.
As a side point, I really enjoyed the enormous number of Celtic names in this. Just good fun.
The exploration of Merrigan’s feelings about eir genderlessness and what it means for em was, I thought, beautifully done, and the word “gender-kin” is just perfect.
To finish up a very very positive review, I must note that Neil Cochrane has done a tremendous job of making the narration sound like a fairy tale without it sounding in any way stilted. Bravo.
Please, please go and read this.
Content Warnings
Moderate: Homophobia and Transphobia
Fanny and Stella: The Young Men Who Shocked Victorian England by Neil McKenna
emotional
reflective
sad
tense
slow-paced
4.0
Neil McKenna’s Fanny and Stella is a mixed bag.
To sum up its positives: it’s a gloriously written perspective on an integral and often forgotten part of queer history; it is very respectful of the shifting, changing, unorthodox identities of the women themselves; it gives a concise and informative vignette of the situation for queer people in late-Victorian times; it shows the overlaps of the treatment of trans women and gay men in this era, because oppressors have never cared about the difference.
To sum up its negatives: it’s a really, really odd mixture of narrative and fact, unable to decide which it is, and which describes people’s thoughts and emotions in a manner bordering on conjecture; it appears at times to be grasping at straws for topics to fill the pages.
All of this said, it was a wonderful read which I strongly recommend to anyone looking to expand their knowledge of queer history of the era. It even references, in its epilogue, the even less famous 1884 trial of several Dublin Castle officials, which is far more complex than Fanny and Stella’s in its political implications. The style in which the book discusses the two women at its centre is reverent and respectful. It truly does feel like the book is honouring the two of them. As well as this, its discussions of sex work, homophobia, and other such facts of Victorian life were frank and easy to read.
Well worth picking up a copy of this!
To sum up its positives: it’s a gloriously written perspective on an integral and often forgotten part of queer history; it is very respectful of the shifting, changing, unorthodox identities of the women themselves; it gives a concise and informative vignette of the situation for queer people in late-Victorian times; it shows the overlaps of the treatment of trans women and gay men in this era, because oppressors have never cared about the difference.
To sum up its negatives: it’s a really, really odd mixture of narrative and fact, unable to decide which it is, and which describes people’s thoughts and emotions in a manner bordering on conjecture; it appears at times to be grasping at straws for topics to fill the pages.
All of this said, it was a wonderful read which I strongly recommend to anyone looking to expand their knowledge of queer history of the era. It even references, in its epilogue, the even less famous 1884 trial of several Dublin Castle officials, which is far more complex than Fanny and Stella’s in its political implications. The style in which the book discusses the two women at its centre is reverent and respectful. It truly does feel like the book is honouring the two of them. As well as this, its discussions of sex work, homophobia, and other such facts of Victorian life were frank and easy to read.
Well worth picking up a copy of this!
Content Warnings
Graphic: Homophobia, Sexual assault, and Transphobia
Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier
dark
mysterious
sad
tense
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
It’s been years since I read du Maurier’s classic, Rebecca, and it’s still just as good — better, even.
The tension in the story, the alluring kindness of Maxim de Winter, and the fact that his past with Rebecca is getting in the way of him expressing his true affections to his young bride are simply fantastic to read. The pace of the story is very slow but somehow the pages just flew by. It doesn’t feel as though the book is as long as it is (well over a hundred thousand words, I believe). The characters are varying degrees of relatability: personally I see a lot of myself in our nameless narrator, and I love Frank Crawley; Beatrice is the kind of bumbling, filterless person I really like; and Maxim does try, bless him.
Oddly, despite the inevitable historical language, I actually didn’t mind the portrayal of the “idiot”, Ben. The acknowledgement that people do abuse and manipulate us (mentally disabled people), and make threats that nobody would ever believe have been made, felt good. The simple fact, too, that he is a nice person was wonderful. For 1938 it’s good!
The intrigue and mystery surrounding the late Rebecca de Winter is one of the best tension-fuelled factors in any book. For more or less the entire story, our narrator is motivated by her desire to live up to Rebecca and what she represented, even just in the estimation of Maxim; I think that she could take or leave people like the bishop’s wife. As we find out more and more about Rebecca and how universally adored she was, our picture of her becomes clearer — and the periodic reminders that she died by drowning make us feel sicker.
I remembered the reveal from the last time I read this (about six years ago), but it was still so bloody good. The suspense, the heightened emotions, the tightly-strung importance of that scene: they were so strong, just like the scent that our narrator finds on Rebecca’s things.
Maxim’s behaviour is dubious, and he is careless. I don’t think, however, that he is the abuser that some would have painted him as. He is emotionally disconnected and hasn’t done a lot of the work that he should have. I think, though, if we claim he’s manipulating his second wife, we remove her agency. She knows he’s a shitty person. Her decision (which it is) to still love him makes her interesting (as well as considerate, I think, given the circumstances of why he did what he did). He treats her badly sometimes, out of what I believe is carelessness and emotional trauma from having been abused, but he also treats her well when he realises what her problems are. They’re both absolutely dreadful communicators, and — don’t get me wrong — he could have been a lot nicer about the whole dress thing. But I think some people could do with remembering that men can be abused too.
The tension in the story, the alluring kindness of Maxim de Winter, and the fact that his past with Rebecca is getting in the way of him expressing his true affections to his young bride are simply fantastic to read. The pace of the story is very slow but somehow the pages just flew by. It doesn’t feel as though the book is as long as it is (well over a hundred thousand words, I believe). The characters are varying degrees of relatability: personally I see a lot of myself in our nameless narrator, and I love Frank Crawley; Beatrice is the kind of bumbling, filterless person I really like; and Maxim does try, bless him.
Oddly, despite the inevitable historical language, I actually didn’t mind the portrayal of the “idiot”, Ben. The acknowledgement that people do abuse and manipulate us (mentally disabled people), and make threats that nobody would ever believe have been made, felt good. The simple fact, too, that he is a nice person was wonderful. For 1938 it’s good!
The intrigue and mystery surrounding the late Rebecca de Winter is one of the best tension-fuelled factors in any book. For more or less the entire story, our narrator is motivated by her desire to live up to Rebecca and what she represented, even just in the estimation of Maxim; I think that she could take or leave people like the bishop’s wife. As we find out more and more about Rebecca and how universally adored she was, our picture of her becomes clearer — and the periodic reminders that she died by drowning make us feel sicker.
I remembered the reveal from the last time I read this (about six years ago), but it was still so bloody good. The suspense, the heightened emotions, the tightly-strung importance of that scene: they were so strong, just like the scent that our narrator finds on Rebecca’s things.
Maxim’s behaviour is dubious, and he is careless. I don’t think, however, that he is the abuser that some would have painted him as. He is emotionally disconnected and hasn’t done a lot of the work that he should have. I think, though, if we claim he’s manipulating his second wife, we remove her agency. She knows he’s a shitty person. Her decision (which it is) to still love him makes her interesting (as well as considerate, I think, given the circumstances of why he did what he did). He treats her badly sometimes, out of what I believe is carelessness and emotional trauma from having been abused, but he also treats her well when he realises what her problems are. They’re both absolutely dreadful communicators, and — don’t get me wrong — he could have been a lot nicer about the whole dress thing. But I think some people could do with remembering that men can be abused too.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Animal death, Emotional abuse, Toxic relationship, and Murder
Moderate: Incest and Suicide
Minor: Cancer and Terminal illness
The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde
challenging
dark
reflective
tense
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
As a quick note beforehand: I acknowledge and do not approve of Wilde’s use of negative stereotypes of Jewish people in this.
The last time I read this, I knew next to nothing about the meaning of it in the context of the intense homophobia of the late-19th-century UK. But, reading it now, I realise how brave Oscar Wilde was to publish this. I quote from the original, uncensored version, Basil speaking to Dorian:
“It is quite true that I have worshipped you with far more romance of feeling than a man should ever give to a friend. Somehow, I had never loved a woman. […] I quite admit that I adored you madly, extravagantly, absurdly. I was jealous of everyone to whom you spoke. I wanted to have you all to myself. I was only happy when I was with you. […] Of course I never let you know anything about this. It would have been impossible. You would not have understood it. […] But, as I worked at it, every flake and film of colour seemed to me to reveal my secret. There was love in every line, and in every touch there was passion. As I said to Harry, once, you are made to be worshipped.”
And this is just one of the most blatant examples, one that had to be cut. There aren’t “homoerotic undertones” in Dorian. There is no “gay subtext”. It’s. About homosexuality. The whole book is about homosexuality. Even that bit at the start, about judging a book on its morality vs judging it on how well-written it is; what, it’s a coincidence that everyone ignored a beautifully written book because its gayness went against their morals?
All three couples possible between Dorian, Basil, and Henry are implied to have existed. Dorian almost certainly had a beyond-platonic relationship with Alan, who he later blackmails (a crime that comes later than murder, even as we know that his crimes become worse and worse… absolutely nothing [/s] to do with blackmail being the primary crime against gay men in this era, especially since we aren’t told what the blackmail material is, but we are told about Alan and Dorian’s “intimacy”). Dorian is repeatedly compared to male favourites of kings. He goes to a costume ball, in drag, dressed as a male favourite of Henri III of France. (Was it just chance that this is a similar name to Henry Wotton’s? Probably not.) Dorian owns homes, in which he and Henry holiday together, in known homosexual hotspots. He also attends brothels in an area known for its brothels having men for hire.
Dorian, thinking about how Basil’s affection and good nature could have saved him:
The love that he bore him — for it was really love — had nothing in it that was not noble and intellectual. It was not that mere physical admiration of beauty that is born of the senses and that dies when the senses tire. It was such love as Michael Angelo had known, and Montaigne, and Winckelmann, and Shakespeare himself. Yes, Basil could have saved him.
All the men named had homosexual relationships, and Wilde knew this. Compare with Wilde’s speech, in court, for the crime of homosexuality:
“The love that dare not speak its name” in this century is such a great affection of an elder for a younger man as there was between David and Jonathan, such as Plato made the very basis of his philosophy, and such as you find in the sonnets of Michelangelo and Shakespeare. It is that deep spiritual affection that is as pure as it is perfect. It dictates and pervades great works of art, like those of Shakespeare and Michelangelo, and those two letters of mine, such as they are. It is in this century misunderstood, so much misunderstood that it may be described as “the love that dare not speak its name”, and on that account of it I am placed where I am now. It is beautiful, it is fine, it is the noblest form of affection. There is nothing unnatural about it. It is intellectual, and it repeatedly exists between an older and a younger man, when the older man has intellect, and the younger man has all the joy, hope, and glamour of life before him. That it should be so, the world does not understand. The world mocks at it, and sometimes puts one in the pillory for it.
(It’s worth noting that while Wilde does emphasise the younger and older men being in a relationship together, he’s not talking about paedophilia: Dorian is 20 when the story begins, and Henry 30. Basil’s age is unknown but he and Henry are simoultaneously called “young”, so he is probably between the two in age.)
This speech of Wilde’s, pretty much, sums up the relationship of Dorian with the combination of Basil and Henry. In the first chapters, Dorian does have “all the joy, hope, and glamour of life before him”. References to some of the same men not only continue to show parallels between these passages but make it absolutely undebatable that Wilde was saying Basil was gay. The similar use of the words “noble” and “intellectual”, all of it.
Dorian Gray is arguing on behalf of homosexuality.
The last time I read this, I knew next to nothing about the meaning of it in the context of the intense homophobia of the late-19th-century UK. But, reading it now, I realise how brave Oscar Wilde was to publish this. I quote from the original, uncensored version, Basil speaking to Dorian:
“It is quite true that I have worshipped you with far more romance of feeling than a man should ever give to a friend. Somehow, I had never loved a woman. […] I quite admit that I adored you madly, extravagantly, absurdly. I was jealous of everyone to whom you spoke. I wanted to have you all to myself. I was only happy when I was with you. […] Of course I never let you know anything about this. It would have been impossible. You would not have understood it. […] But, as I worked at it, every flake and film of colour seemed to me to reveal my secret. There was love in every line, and in every touch there was passion. As I said to Harry, once, you are made to be worshipped.”
And this is just one of the most blatant examples, one that had to be cut. There aren’t “homoerotic undertones” in Dorian. There is no “gay subtext”. It’s. About homosexuality. The whole book is about homosexuality. Even that bit at the start, about judging a book on its morality vs judging it on how well-written it is; what, it’s a coincidence that everyone ignored a beautifully written book because its gayness went against their morals?
All three couples possible between Dorian, Basil, and Henry are implied to have existed. Dorian almost certainly had a beyond-platonic relationship with Alan, who he later blackmails (a crime that comes later than murder, even as we know that his crimes become worse and worse… absolutely nothing [/s] to do with blackmail being the primary crime against gay men in this era, especially since we aren’t told what the blackmail material is, but we are told about Alan and Dorian’s “intimacy”). Dorian is repeatedly compared to male favourites of kings. He goes to a costume ball, in drag, dressed as a male favourite of Henri III of France. (Was it just chance that this is a similar name to Henry Wotton’s? Probably not.) Dorian owns homes, in which he and Henry holiday together, in known homosexual hotspots. He also attends brothels in an area known for its brothels having men for hire.
Dorian, thinking about how Basil’s affection and good nature could have saved him:
The love that he bore him — for it was really love — had nothing in it that was not noble and intellectual. It was not that mere physical admiration of beauty that is born of the senses and that dies when the senses tire. It was such love as Michael Angelo had known, and Montaigne, and Winckelmann, and Shakespeare himself. Yes, Basil could have saved him.
All the men named had homosexual relationships, and Wilde knew this. Compare with Wilde’s speech, in court, for the crime of homosexuality:
“The love that dare not speak its name” in this century is such a great affection of an elder for a younger man as there was between David and Jonathan, such as Plato made the very basis of his philosophy, and such as you find in the sonnets of Michelangelo and Shakespeare. It is that deep spiritual affection that is as pure as it is perfect. It dictates and pervades great works of art, like those of Shakespeare and Michelangelo, and those two letters of mine, such as they are. It is in this century misunderstood, so much misunderstood that it may be described as “the love that dare not speak its name”, and on that account of it I am placed where I am now. It is beautiful, it is fine, it is the noblest form of affection. There is nothing unnatural about it. It is intellectual, and it repeatedly exists between an older and a younger man, when the older man has intellect, and the younger man has all the joy, hope, and glamour of life before him. That it should be so, the world does not understand. The world mocks at it, and sometimes puts one in the pillory for it.
(It’s worth noting that while Wilde does emphasise the younger and older men being in a relationship together, he’s not talking about paedophilia: Dorian is 20 when the story begins, and Henry 30. Basil’s age is unknown but he and Henry are simoultaneously called “young”, so he is probably between the two in age.)
This speech of Wilde’s, pretty much, sums up the relationship of Dorian with the combination of Basil and Henry. In the first chapters, Dorian does have “all the joy, hope, and glamour of life before him”. References to some of the same men not only continue to show parallels between these passages but make it absolutely undebatable that Wilde was saying Basil was gay. The similar use of the words “noble” and “intellectual”, all of it.
Dorian Gray is arguing on behalf of homosexuality.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Death, Violence, Blood, and Murder
Moderate: Drug use, Suicide, Antisemitism, Grief, and Gaslighting
Minor: Sexism