The Picture of Dorian Gray

by Oscar Wilde 

Review of The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde

       Firstly, I'd like to begin by going on record as saying that the vast majority of Victorian prose literature disgusts me. It's boring. It's pretentious. And above all, extremely outdated.
Ah. Now that I've got that out of my system I'd also like to add that "The Picture of Dorian Gray" is none of these. It's engaging, well-written, and one of the most perceptive examinations of human folly and corruption ever written.
When I opened this book I expected the very worse (approaching it, of course, with my fierce and uncompromising hatred of Henry James and Emily Bronte, the worst offenders), but once I had finished the first chapter, I read the second, then the third, then the fourth, until I was so deeply engrossed by the novel that I couldn't put it down for two whole days.
The poisonous views of Lord Henry, though contadictory in some cases, were strangely inviting, spewed against the backdrop of the pompous Victorian formalities that smothered nineteenth century Britain and although dangerous and ultimately destructive, one can't help feeling that any alternative to the above mentioned is worth a crack.
       As those who have read the novel know, it is with this perspective that the clean-cut Dorian Gray approaches Henry's influence, seeing it as an escape from the drudgery of tea-parties and opera, talk of economics and pseudo-interest in the politics of the day, preferring instead to explore London's darker side. To, as Lord Henry puts it, "engage in a new hedonism."
       You can't help but feel a pang of jealousy well up inside when you discover that, not only can Dorian find solace in this underworld, but that he can do it without consequence. His portrait carries the weight of his corruption, ages for him, weeps for him - you'd imagine that if there were hands protruding from the frame that the portrait would relax him after a long day of fucking women and smoking hash by giving him a back rub.
       All in vain of course as we discover that the burden of his emotion (which he, himself is still obliged to carry) outweighs the corresponding physical decay of his picture and, eventually driven insane wth guilt, stabs his portrait with the very knife he murdered his best friend with - thus killing himself and leaving the reader to wallow in speculation and self-doubt

The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde was reviewed by J-RoNiMo

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