The Picture of Dorian Gray: Oscar Wilde's Timeless Tale of Beauty and Corruption

By Oscar Wilde

Unveil the Dark Secrets Behind Eternal Youth with Dorian Gray!
Dive into the haunting and provocative world of "The Picture of Dorian Gray," the only novel written by the literary icon Oscar Wilde. This masterpiece explores the depths of vanity, moral corruption, and the consequences of a life devoted to pleasure and superficial beauty. When Dorian Gray, a young and handsome man, makes a Faustian bargain to remain forever youthful while a portrait of him ages instead, he embarks on a journey that leads to his ultimate downfall.
Wilde's brilliant prose brings to life a tale that is as relevant today as it was over a century ago. The novel is a fascinating exploration of the duality of human nature, the dangers of unchecked desire, and the societal obsession with youth and beauty. As Dorian descends deeper into a life of hedonism and vice, the portrait becomes a chilling reflection of his corrupted soul, serving as a powerful reminder that no one can escape the consequences of their actions.
Oscar Wilde's "The Picture of Dorian Gray" is universally acclaimed as a classic of English literature. It has been adapted into numerous films, plays, and other media, solidifying its place in the cultural zeitgeist.
"One of the most memorable and intriguing books I have ever read. Wilde's writing is simply exquisite." - Goodreads Reviewer
"An essential read for anyone interested in literature, philosophy, or the human condition. Wilde's wit and insight are unparalleled." - The Literary Times
Don't miss your chance to experience one of literature's most compelling and thought-provoking novels. Click 'Buy Now' to add "The Picture of Dorian Gray" to your digital library and explore the dark allure of this timeless classic.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bluefire Books
• Release date: Aug 12, 2024
• ISBN: 9782384231355

Oscar Wilde

Born in Ireland in 1856, Oscar Wilde was a noted essayist, playwright, fairy tale writer and poet, as well as an early leader of the Aesthetic Movement. His plays include: An Ideal Husband, Salome, A Woman of No Importance, and Lady Windermere's Fan. Among his best known stories are The Picture of Dorian Gray and The Canterville Ghost.

Book preview

Oscar Wilde

Published: 1891

Categorie(s): Fiction

Chapter 1

The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn.

From the corner of the divan of Persian saddle-bags on which he was lying, smoking, as was his custom, innumerable cigarettes, Lord Henry Wotton could just catch the gleam of the honey-sweet and honey-coloured blossoms of a laburnum, whose tremulous branches seemed hardly able to bear the burden of a beauty so flamelike as theirs; and now and then the fantastic shadows of birds in flight flitted across the long tussore-silk curtains that were stretched in front of the huge window, producing a kind of momentary Japanese effect, and making him think of those pallid, jade-faced painters of Tokyo who, through the medium of an art that is necessarily immobile, seek to convey the sense of swiftness and motion. The sullen murmur of the bees shouldering their way through the long unmown grass, or circling with monotonous insistence round the dusty gilt horns of the straggling woodbine, seemed to make the stillness more oppressive. The dim roar of London was like the bourdon note of a distant organ.

In the centre of the room, clamped to an upright easel, stood the full-length portrait of a young man of extraordinary personal beauty, and in front of it, some little distance away, was sitting the artist himself, Basil Hallward, whose sudden disappearance some years ago caused, at the time, such public excitement and gave rise to so many strange conjectures.

As the painter looked at the gracious and comely form he had so skilfully mirrored in his art, a smile of pleasure passed across his face, and seemed about to linger there. But he suddenly started up, and closing his eyes, placed his fingers upon the lids, as though he sought to imprison within his brain some curious dream from which he feared he might awake.

It is your best work, Basil, the best thing you have ever done, said Lord Henry languidly. You must certainly send it next year to the Grosvenor. The Academy is too large and too vulgar. Whenever I have gone there, there have been either so many people that I have not been able to see the pictures, which was dreadful, or so many pictures that I have not been able to see the people, which was worse. The Grosvenor is really the only place.

I don't think I shall send it anywhere, he answered, tossing his head back in that odd way that used to make his friends laugh at him at Oxford. No, I won't send it anywhere.

Lord Henry elevated his eyebrows and looked at him in amazement through the thin blue wreaths of smoke that curled up in such fanciful whorls from his heavy, opium-tainted cigarette. Not send it anywhere? My dear fellow, why? Have you any reason? What odd chaps you painters are! You do anything in the world to gain a reputation. As soon as you have one, you seem to want to throw it away. It is silly of you, for there is only one thing in the world worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about. A portrait like this would set you far above all the young men in England, and make the old men quite jealous, if old men are ever capable of any emotion.

I know you will laugh at me, he replied, but I really can't exhibit it. I have put too much of myself into it.

Lord Henry stretched himself out on the divan and laughed. Yes, I knew you would; but it is quite true, all the same. Too much of yourself in it! Upon my word, Basil, I didn't know you were so vain; and I really can't see any resemblance between you, with your rugged strong face and your coal-black hair, and this young Adonis, who looks as if he was made out of ivory and rose-leaves. Why, my dear Basil, he is a Narcissus, and you— well, of course you have an intellectual expression and all that. But beauty, real beauty, ends where an intellectual expression begins. Intellect is in itself a mode of exaggeration, and destroys the harmony of any face. The moment one sits down to think, one becomes all nose, or all forehead, or something horrid. Look at the successful men in any of the learned professions. How perfectly hideous they are! Except, of course, in the Church. But then in the Church they don't think. A bishop keeps on saying at the age of eighty what he was told to say when he was a boy of eighteen, and as a natural consequence he always looks absolutely delightful. Your mysterious young friend, whose name you have never told me, but whose picture really fascinates me, never thinks. I feel quite sure of that. He is some brainless beautiful creature who should be always here in winter when we have no flowers to look at, and always here in summer when we want something to chill our intelligence. Don't flatter yourself, Basil: you are not in the least like him.

You don't understand me, Harry, answered the artist. Of course I am not like him. I know that perfectly well. Indeed, I should be sorry to look like him. You shrug your shoulders? I am telling you the truth. There is a fatality about all physical and intellectual distinction, the sort of fatality that seems to dog through history the faltering steps of kings. It is better not to be different from one's fellows. The ugly and the stupid have the best of it in this world. They can sit at their ease and gape at the play. If they know nothing of victory, they are at least spared the knowledge of defeat. They live as we all should live—undisturbed, indifferent, and without disquiet. They neither bring ruin upon others, nor ever receive it from alien hands. Your rank and wealth, Harry; my brains, such as they are—my art, whatever it may be worth; Dorian Gray's good looks—we shall all suffer for what the gods have given us, suffer terribly.

Dorian Gray? Is that his name? asked Lord Henry, walking across the studio towards Basil Hallward.

Yes, that is his name. I didn't intend to tell it to you.

But why not?

Oh, I can't explain. When I like people immensely, I never tell their names to any one. It is like surrendering a part of them. I have grown to love secrecy. It seems to be the one thing that can make modern life mysterious or marvellous to us. The commonest thing is delightful if one only hides it. When I leave town now I never tell my people where I am going. If I did, I would lose all my pleasure. It is a silly habit, I dare say, but somehow it seems to bring a great deal of romance into one's life. I suppose you think me awfully foolish about it?

Not at all, answered Lord Henry, not at all, my dear Basil. You seem to forget that I am married, and the one charm of marriage is that it makes a life of deception absolutely necessary for both parties. I never know where my wife is, and my wife never knows what I am doing. When we meet—we do meet occasionally, when we dine out together, or go down to the Duke's—we tell each other the most absurd stories with the most serious faces. My wife is very good at it—much better, in fact, than I am. She never gets confused over her dates, and I always do. But when she does find me out, she makes no row at all. I sometimes wish she would; but she merely laughs at me.

I hate the way you talk about your married life, Harry, said Basil Hallward, strolling towards the door that led into the garden. I believe that you are really a very good husband, but that you are thoroughly ashamed of your own virtues. You are an extraordinary fellow. You never say a moral thing, and you never do a wrong thing. Your cynicism is simply a pose.

Being natural is simply a pose, and the most irritating pose I know, cried Lord Henry, laughing; and the two young men went out into the garden together and ensconced themselves on a long bamboo seat that stood in the shade of a tall laurel bush. The sunlight slipped over the polished leaves. In the grass, white daisies were tremulous.

After a pause, Lord Henry pulled out his watch. I am afraid I must be going, Basil, he murmured, and before I go, I insist on your answering a question I put to you some time ago.

What is that? said the painter, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground.

You know quite well.

I do not, Harry.

Well, I will tell you what it is. I want you to explain to me why you won't exhibit Dorian Gray's picture. I want the real reason.

I told you the real reason.

No, you did not. You said it was because there was too much of yourself in it. Now, that is childish.

Harry, said Basil Hallward, looking him straight in the face, every portrait that is painted with feeling is a portrait of the artist, not of the sitter. The sitter is merely the accident, the occasion. It is not he who is revealed by the painter; it is rather the painter who, on the coloured canvas, reveals himself. The reason I will not exhibit this picture is that I am afraid that I have shown in it the secret of my own soul.

Lord Henry laughed. And what is that? he asked.

I will tell you, said Hallward; but an expression of perplexity came over his face.

I am all expectation, Basil, continued his companion, glancing at him.

Oh, there is really very little to tell, Harry, answered the painter; and I am afraid you will hardly understand it. Perhaps you will hardly believe it.

Lord Henry smiled, and leaning down, plucked a pink-petalled daisy from the grass and examined it. I am quite sure I shall understand it, he replied, gazing intently at the little golden, white-feathered disk, and as for believing things, I can believe anything, provided that it is quite incredible.

The wind shook some blossoms from the trees, and the heavy lilac-blooms, with their clustering stars, moved to and fro in the languid air. A grasshopper began to chirrup by the wall, and like a blue thread a long thin dragon-fly floated past on its brown gauze wings. Lord Henry felt as if he could hear Basil Hallward's heart beating, and wondered what was coming.

The story is simply this, said the painter after some time. Two months ago I went to a crush at Lady Brandon's. You know we poor artists have to show ourselves in society from time to time, just to remind the public that we are not savages. With an evening coat and a white tie, as you told me once, anybody, even a stock-broker, can gain a reputation for being civilized. Well, after I had been in the room about ten minutes, talking to huge overdressed dowagers and tedious academicians, I suddenly became conscious that some one was looking at me. I turned half-way round and saw Dorian Gray for the first time. When our eyes met, I felt that I was growing pale. A curious sensation of terror came over me. I knew that I had come face to face with some one whose mere personality was so fascinating that, if I allowed it to do so, it would absorb my whole nature, my whole soul, my very art itself. I did not want any external influence in my life. You know yourself, Harry, how independent I am by nature. I have always been my own master; had at least always been so, till I met Dorian Gray. Then—but I don't know how to explain it to you. Something seemed to tell me that I was on the verge of a terrible crisis in my life. I had a strange feeling that fate had in store for me exquisite joys and exquisite sorrows. I grew afraid and turned to quit the room. It was not conscience that made me do so: it was a sort of cowardice. I take no credit to myself for trying to escape.

Conscience and cowardice are really the same things, Basil. Conscience is the trade-name of the firm. That is all.

I don't believe that, Harry, and I don't believe you do either. However, whatever was my motive—and it may have been pride, for I used to be very proud—I certainly struggled to the door. There, of course, I stumbled against Lady Brandon. 'You are not going to run away so soon, Mr. Hallward?' she screamed out. You know her curiously shrill voice?

Yes; she is a peacock in everything but beauty, said Lord Henry, pulling the daisy to bits with his long nervous fingers.

I could not get rid of her. She brought me up to royalties, and people with stars and garters, and elderly ladies with gigantic tiaras and parrot noses. She spoke of me as her dearest friend. I had only met her once before, but she took it into her head to lionize me. I believe some picture of mine had made a great success at the time, at least had been chattered about in the penny newspapers, which is the nineteenth-century standard of immortality. Suddenly I found myself face to face with the young man whose personality had so strangely stirred me. We were quite close, almost touching. Our eyes met again. It was reckless of me, but I asked Lady Brandon to introduce me to him. Perhaps it was not so reckless, after all. It was simply inevitable. We would have spoken to each other without any introduction. I am sure of that. Dorian told me so afterwards. He, too, felt that we were destined to know each other.

And how did Lady Brandon describe this wonderful young man? asked his companion. I know she goes in for giving a rapid precis of all her guests. I remember her bringing me up to a truculent and red-faced old gentleman covered all over with orders and ribbons, and hissing into my ear, in a tragic whisper which must have been perfectly audible to everybody in the room, the most astounding details. I simply fled. I like to find out people for myself. But Lady Brandon treats her guests exactly as an auctioneer treats his goods. She either explains them entirely away, or tells one everything about them except what one wants to know.

Poor Lady Brandon! You are hard on her, Harry! said Hallward listlessly.

My dear fellow, she tried to found a salon, and only succeeded in opening a restaurant. How could I admire her? But tell me, what did she say about Mr. Dorian Gray?

Oh, something like, 'Charming boy—poor dear mother and I absolutely inseparable. Quite forget what he does—afraid he— doesn't do anything—oh, yes, plays the piano—or is it the violin, dear Mr. Gray?' Neither of us could help laughing, and we became friends at once.

Laughter is not at all a bad beginning for a friendship, and it is far the best ending for one, said the young lord, plucking another daisy.

Hallward shook his head. You don't understand what friendship is, Harry, he murmured—or what enmity is, for that matter. You like every one; that is to say, you are indifferent to every one.

How horribly unjust of you! cried Lord Henry, tilting his hat back and looking up at the little clouds that, like ravelled skeins of glossy white silk, were drifting across the hollowed turquoise of the summer sky. Yes; horribly unjust of you. I make a great difference between people. I choose my friends for their good looks, my acquaintances for their good characters, and my enemies for their good intellects. A man cannot be too careful in the choice of his enemies. I have not got one who is a fool. They are all men of some intellectual power, and consequently they all appreciate me. Is that very vain of me? I think it is rather vain.

I should think it was, Harry. But according to your category I must be merely an acquaintance.

My dear old Basil, you are much more than an acquaintance.

And much less than a friend. A sort of brother, I suppose?

Oh, brothers! I don't care for brothers. My elder brother won't die, and my younger brothers seem never to do anything else.

Harry! exclaimed Hallward, frowning.

My dear fellow, I am not quite serious. But I can't help detesting my relations. I suppose it comes from the fact that none of us can stand other people having the same faults as ourselves. I quite sympathize with the rage of the English democracy against what they call the vices of the upper orders. The masses feel that drunkenness, stupidity, and immorality should be their own special property, and that if any one of us makes an ass of himself, he is poaching on their preserves. When poor Southwark got into the divorce court, their indignation was quite magnificent. And yet I don't suppose that ten per cent of the proletariat live correctly.

I don't agree with a single word that you have said, and, what is more, Harry, I feel sure you don't either.

Lord Henry stroked his pointed brown beard and tapped the toe of his patent-leather boot with a tasselled ebony cane. How English you are Basil! That is the second time you have made that observation. If one puts forward an idea to a true Englishman—always a rash thing to do—he never dreams of considering whether the idea is right or wrong. The only thing he considers of any importance is whether one believes it oneself. Now, the value of an idea has nothing whatsoever to do with the sincerity of the man who expresses it. Indeed, the probabilities are that the more insincere the man is, the more purely intellectual will the idea be, as in that case it will not be coloured by either his wants, his desires, or his prejudices. However, I don't propose to discuss politics, sociology, or metaphysics with you. I like persons better than principles, and I like persons with no principles better than anything else in the world. Tell me more about Mr. Dorian Gray. How often do you see him?

Every day. I couldn't be happy if I didn't see him every day. He is absolutely necessary to me.

How extraordinary! I thought you would never care for anything but your art.

He is all my art to me now, said the painter gravely. I sometimes think, Harry, that there are only two eras of any importance in the world's history. The first is the appearance of a new medium for art, and the second is the appearance of a new personality for art also. What the invention of oil-painting was to the Venetians, the face of Antinous was to late Greek sculpture, and the face of Dorian Gray will some day be to me. It is not merely that I paint from him, draw from him, sketch from him. Of course, I have done all that. But he is much more to me than a model or a sitter. I won't tell you that I am dissatisfied with what I have done of him, or that his beauty is such that art cannot express it. There is nothing that art cannot express, and I know that the work I have done, since I met Dorian Gray, is good work, is the best work of my life. But in some curious way—I wonder will you understand me?—his personality has suggested to me an entirely new manner in art, an entirely new mode of style. I see things differently, I think of them differently. I can now recreate life in a way that was hidden from me before. 'A dream of form in days of thought'—who is it who says that? I forget; but it is what Dorian Gray has been to me. The merely visible presence of this lad—for he seems to me little more than a lad, though he is really over twenty— his merely visible presence—ah! I wonder can you realize all that that means? Unconsciously he defines for me the lines of a fresh school, a school that is to have in it all the passion of the romantic spirit, all the perfection of the spirit that is Greek. The harmony of soul and body— how much that is! We in our madness have separated the two, and have invented a realism that is vulgar, an ideality that is void. Harry! if you only knew what Dorian Gray is to me! You remember that landscape of mine, for which Agnew offered me such a huge price but which I would not part with? It is one of the best things I have ever done. And why is it so? Because, while I was painting it, Dorian Gray sat beside me. Some subtle influence passed from him to me, and for the first time in my life I saw in the plain woodland the wonder I had always looked for and always missed.

Basil, this is extraordinary! I must see Dorian Gray.

Hallward got up from the seat and walked up and down the garden. After some time he came back. Harry, he said, Dorian Gray is to me simply a motive in art. You might see nothing in him. I see everything in him. He is never more present in my work than when no image of him is there. He is a suggestion, as I have said, of a new manner. I find him in the curves of certain lines, in the loveliness and subtleties of certain colours. That is all.

Then why won't you exhibit his portrait? asked Lord Henry.

Because, without intending it, I have put into it some expression of all this curious artistic idolatry, of which, of course, I have never cared to speak to him. He knows nothing about it. He shall never know anything about it. But the world might guess it, and I will not bare my soul to their shallow prying eyes. My heart shall never be put under their microscope. There is too much of myself in the thing, Harry—too much of myself!

Poets are not so scrupulous as you are. They know how useful passion is for publication. Nowadays a broken heart will run to many editions.

I hate them for it, cried Hallward. An artist should create beautiful things, but should put nothing of his own life into them. We live in an age when men treat art as if it were meant to be a form of autobiography. We have lost the abstract sense of beauty. Some day I will show the world what it is; and for that reason the world shall never see my portrait of Dorian Gray.

"I think you are wrong, Basil, but I won't argue with you. It is only the intellectually lost

Reviews for The Picture of Dorian Gray

[kalliegrace · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I think this is my first Wilde, and hopefully not my last. I enjoy his writing and humor, and this moves quickly for a classic. The story is widely known, but it is certainly a richer experience to read the actual book.

[eyejaybee · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

For about the last thirty years I have been convinced that Nineteen Eighty-Four was the most egregiously overrated classic work of English literature, but having reread this I am no longer so sure. My recollections from having read this more than forty years ago were of a highly amusing and insightful novel that had the reader doubled over with laughter. That was not my experience this time around – I found it very tedious, and the writer’s smugness of tone and self-satisfaction with his perception of his own cleverness proved an insuperable barrier to any entertainment that the story might otherwise have offered.

[spiritedstardust · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

4.5

It’s like having a conversation with Wilde about beauty, youth, society and all things debaucherous.

[word.owl · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

"I am so sorry, Harry," he cried, "but really it is entirely your fault. That book you sent me so fascinated me that I forgot how the time was going."

"Yes, I thought you would like it," replied his host, rising from his chair.

"I didn't say I liked it, Harry. I said it fascinated me. There is a great difference."

"Ah, you have discovered that?" murmured Lord Henry. And they passed into the dining-room.

[smashbasile · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This was a chilling read. I really went into this one with no idea of the plotline of this book, and I was... surprised. It offered some great quotes and bizarre themes, and I quite enjoyed it.

[pilgrimjess · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

"Behind every exquisite thing that exists, there was something tragic."

'The Picture of Dorian Gray' is an insightful, intriguing and somewhat sinister novel filled with complex characters. Dorian Gray himself isn’t a protagonist that you can really like, he has few redeeming qualities. On the outside he seems the perfect catch with his money, good looks and charm, but in he is unstable, impulsive and fixated on his own pleasures. One minute he is besotted with Sybil Vane, a young actress, the next he is evil towards her simply because she had disappointed him in front of his friends. Dorian is a malign influence on his own friends but is himself easily swayed by his newest friend Lord Henry. It is due to Henry's particular influence that Dorian declares that he would give his soul to remain youthful whilst the portrait that Basil has painted of him ages instead. Dorian may remain beautiful on the outside, but his portrait bears the true appearance of Dorian’s nature making it an almost unrecognisable portrait of the lad.

Lord Henry is a fascinating character who comes out with so many very memorably clever and witty remarks.

"My dear boy, no woman is a genius. Women are a decorative sex. They never have anything to say, but they say it charmingly. Women represent the triumph of matter over mind, just as men represent the triumph of mind over morals."

Whilst the artist, Basil, is the principled and sensible voice of reason, however, both want to mould Dorian for their own purposes.

It was fascinating to read a novel that explores vanity and the search to stay youthful. However, whilst I could admire Wilde's writing style, his talent and wit are undeniable, and the obsession with image that is addressed is still relevant in today’s image conscious society, it just wasn’t one of those books that I could just sit and read for hours on end. After a while I could simply feel my attention waning. Don't get me wrong there were some great scenes within but my main gripe was with the seemingly never ending descriptions and musings from Dorian and his high society friends. Wilde simply lost my interest at times, this was particularly true when he described Dorian's many hobbies. Ultimately in the end both Dorian and Lord Henry began to bore and annoy me in equal measures.

By today's standards 'The Picture of Dorian Gray' is a little tame but it has managed to pass the test of time making it a thought-provoking novel which I'm glad to have finally got around to reading but it is also one that I almost certainly won't revisit despite it's relative brevity.

[avoraciousreader · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

Book source ~ Purchased audiobook on Chirp

A vain young man named Dorian Gray allows himself to be manipulated into selling his soul so he could stay young and beautiful no matter what he did over the course of his life.

Wow. What a pompous and pretentious piece of shit this is. Dorian is a vain twit easily led around by the nose by Sir Henry. Speaking of Sir Henry, holy shit does that guy love the sound of his own voice or what? Poor Basil is the only likeable character and look what happened to him at the end. Ugh. What a colossal waste of my time. But at least I can mark another classic off my list. Ok, I don’t really have a “list” per se, but you get the idea. The narrator does a decent job though I found he sometimes had the wrong “voice” for certain characters.

[classyhomemaker · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

April 2015: I'll never be able to express to you the depths of loathing I feel for The Picture of Dorian Gray. It reminds me of Victorian London---you know, that one time when they pretty much dumped every kind of imaginable offalous waste into the Thames and no one knew the danger until it was too late...people got sick...people died...it wasn't good. Yeah, I'm thinking Oscar Wilde found him a shady spot down by the Thames one day and became inspired by the putridity and just went to town on this one.

Book Description: "In this celebrated work, his only novel, Wilde forged a devastating portrait of the effects of evil and debauchery on a young aesthete in late-19th-century England. Combining elements of the Gothic horror novel and decadent French fiction, the book centers on a striking premise: As Dorian Gray sinks into a life of crime and gross sensuality, his body retains perfect youth and vigor while his recently painted portrait grows day by day into a hideous record of evil, which he must keep hidden from the world. For over a century, this mesmerizing tale of horror and suspense has enjoyed wide popularity. It ranks as one of Wilde's most important creations and among the classic achievements of its kind."

No. No, I must disagree. Not mesmerizing. Not really all that suspenseful or horrible. Devastating, yes, but only because I'd promised my 15-year-old daughter that I'd read it and wanted to stop after like 20 pages. She's decided it's her current favorite book. She obviously doesn't get it. Besides the extreme use of adjectives and melodrama, the cross-dressing and nitric acid were a little much. I didn't really dig the whole effeminate man thing. But, then again, I like my men to actually be men, you know? Moving on...to the incinerator...

Handing this over to my daughter. May her eyes be opened and her tastes be refined.

ETA Aug. 2016: Saints be praised! My daughter is not a lost cause after all. She brought this to me a couple days ago and asked me to rid our home of it as fast as possible! Ha!

[regoodrich · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I cannot honestly say that I enjoyed this book, though it has a clever plot. The experience was a shudder of unpleasant sensations at every sitting. Dorian Gray is a monster. His story is a walk through the degradation of a soul. The book causes doubt about the actual goodness in humanity, trumpeting the dangers of a selfish nature and the importance of choosing one's friends with the utmost care. As Dorian Gray discovered, friends have a heavy hand in the molding of one's character. Following is one paragraph that stood out to me: "Ah! in what a monstrous moment of pride and passion he had prayed that the portrait should bear the burden of his days, and he keep the unsullied splendor of eternal youth! All his failure had been due to that. Better for him that each sin of his life had brought its sure swift penalty along with it. There was purification in punishment." Like Dorian Gray, every member of humanity is free to make choices in life. But for us, the consequences of those choices must be endured. Dorian appeared to sidestep the consequences of his sins, but in truth he bore them in invisible ways as he watched the soul of his portrait rot with corruption. I must now seek out a light-hearted book to lift my spirits and restore my faith in mankind once again.

[andjhostet-527429 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

An amazing novel detailing the power of art, corruption and influence, vanity. Some of the most beautiful writing I have ever read. I absolutely loved every bit of dialog in this book, it was just incredible.

Favorite quotes:

"Experience was of no ethical value. It was merely the name men gave to their mistakes."

"her death has all the pathetic uselessness of martyrdom, all its wasted beauty"

"One hardly knew whether one was reading the spiritual ecstasies of some medieval saint or the morbid confessions of a modern sinner"

[abiiharrisonn · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

as far as classics go, i found this book pretty easy to understand in terms of language and themes, compared to some others, which made it really accessible. things were going great until dorian starts experimenting with every vice imaginable, and that part of the book was totally lost on me ?, but overall - not bad!!

[dste_2 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

In the Victorian era, a beautiful young man named Dorian catches the eye of an artist who insists on painting him. Dorian poses for Basil again and again, in various locations and various costumes, but when Basil decides to paint him exactly as he is, the artist captures a secret of his own soul on the canvas. The astute reader may discern that there is more to Basil's "worship" of Dorian than simple aesthetic appreciation, but he—and the text itself—is unable to make a clear admission. When Basil's friend Henry questions why he is unwilling to showcase a portrait that may be the greatest work he has ever painted, leading him to develop an interest in impressionable young Dorian himself, the artist finds himself unable to stop the man he adores from meeting the friend he says to be a terrible influence on everyone except himself. Within the course of a single meeting, Henry places such thoughts in Dorian's head about the value of youth and beauty that the young man becomes jealous of the painting of himself, which will retain its looks forever while he becomes more ugly. In a moment of passion, he wishes aloud that the situation could be reversed. To his surprise, that wish is granted. But it is not only age that begins to change that painted face. With every cruel and selfish act that he commits, whether through Henry's influence or the snowballing effect of giving in to his own temptations, the portrait shows his sins. At first determined to use the portrait for self-examination, to turn off of the path he's started down and become a better man, Dorian quickly finds himself unable to follow through. But when he hides the painting away and gives up on doing anything except what brings him pleasure, what will become of him and everyone within his sphere of influence?The Picture of Dorian Gray is a classic written in the 1890's, a time during which its author was forced to self-censor and endure the censoring of publishers in order to diminish what was already closer to a hint at homosexuality than a proud depiction of it. During this reread, I personally found more enjoyment in learning about the "uncensored" version of the text and imagining what the novel might have been if Wilde had been given full creative freedom than in actually reading the book itself. Knowing that this book was used as evidence in Wilde's own trial for "gross indecency" is all the more fascinating and sad. If I had more of an interest in history, I could see myself going beyond this surface level understanding to learn more about his life and his relationships and how his society responded to both.But as a reader I want to enjoy the book that's in front of me. And I found myself not only wishing that Wilde could have been more explicit but that he could have made different writing choices altogether. The book is written in third person omniscient, but I found myself wondering on more than one occasion whether that was the best choice or simply the default choice given the time period. I enjoyed being able to leave Dorian and Henry for a chapter in favor of seeing the home life of the young actress Dorian becomes enamored with, but when it comes to Dorian meeting her? Proposing marriage to her? Both are given to the reader not as scenes but told to us through dialogue! The best reason I can come up with is that the author wanted to be able to narrate these experiences through Dorian's own words, basically then, in first person. But, it being dialogue, of course it wouldn't be believable if it had all the length and detail of a scene in a first-person novel. I know first person wasn't nearly as popular in this time period as it is in our current one, but I do wonder if the book might have been stronger if written in the epistolary style, in which all the characters might have exchanged letters. This way, they would have been able to express themselves in their own words, while believably having taken time to consider how the stories they are telling would best be told. And it would still allow for what I think is the largest benefit of the novel using the omniscient perspective: a certain emotional distance from a character who becomes increasingly corrupt. In an epistolary novel, the reader would still be able to look at Dorian from a perspective outside his own and be encouraged to render their own judgment on him. And any graphic details the author might want to spare the audience could also be toned down or removed as Dorian believably wouldn't want to share them with the person he is writing to.Besides that, I found myself thinking that Wilde had fallen too much in love with the clever epigrams he is famous for. The first time I read this novel, I picked it up because I loved the clever lines and laugh-out-loud (for me anyway) humor of his play The Importance of Being Earnest. But in novel form, and stuffed liberally into the dialogue of Lord Henry, this cleverness made me wince much more than laugh. In the first chapter, Henry seems to veer so often off the point of what is being discussed that I would have lost track of what was happening without some very slow and careful reading. The dialogue here is overloaded and meandering, seeming more like an author's attempt to show off than a genuine hook for the reader's interest. I might have forgiven this if it at least was funny. I do think it's intended to be? But I personally wasn't able to laugh given the context of the character. Is it really funny that he says things that are wrongheaded and lead Dorian into moral corruption? And in the modern context, how about all those "clever" things he has to say about women? "Women are a decorative sex. They never have anything to say, but they say it charmingly. Women represent the triumph of matter over mind, just as men represent the triumph of mind over morals." Oh yes, this certainly puts me in a light-hearted mood.Of course it is a book of its time, and I recognize that. But if I'm spending time with characters depicted through the eyes of sexism and antisemitism, groaning at the fact that a talented young actress apparently loses her ability to act because falling in love makes her realize that acting at love on stage is just a hollow sham (reinforcing, I'm sure, standards of the time that would have called it improper for a high-class woman to even want to be an actress), I do want the book to be well-written. It has an interesting premise, certainly. The second half of the book reads very well once the action finally picks up, and the end is quite dramatic. But the setup seems forced, even a bit contrived. Portions of the book read as if the author was trying to pad out the length, even at the expense of the reader's interest. And I found myself tempted to skim again and again, as I believe I did the first time I read it. Certainly that would explain how I'd so easily forgotten so much of it.It's disappointing, given how much I enjoyed the play by the same author. It's interesting that there are sections of the book that are nothing more than long stretches of back-and-forth dialogue between two characters. When these lines were short, the text even started to have the appearance of a script for me, and I'm left with the unfortunate question of whether novels were really a format Wilde was able to master.The best parts of the book, besides those that actually contain tense and emotional scenes, are the parts that depict ordinary life in this time period. I enjoyed seeing Dorian walk down a street as the narrator portrayed all the activity taking place on it. I was interested to see what kind of letters a man of Dorian's standing receives on a daily basis. I liked being able to fill out my understanding of what it would have been like to ride in a horse-drawn cab or visit an opium den or participate in a hunt of the type the upper classes engaged in.For those with a historical interest, I could see this book as being quite worthwhile. Whether you want to see depictions of life in that time written by an author who lived in that time or whether you want to dig into the history of Wilde himself or society's attitudes towards homosexuality in different time periods and in different countries, you'll certainly find something here. If you're reading as a writer, it may be somewhat useful to understand how this book influenced those that were written after, or you may find it interesting to read it as if you were the author and consider whether you would have made the same changes I would. But as a modern reader, simply looking to be entertained, I think you might be better served with a modern adaptation or a different book altogether.

[judygibson-1 · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

Repellant characters and their actions worse. I can't read this. [One star from me means this is a book I didn't finish.]

[linyarai · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Loved it! Henry got a bit too wordy at times, but Dorian was fun.

[dominiquedavis · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

One of the better classics I have read...yet.

[caanderson-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

A man is obsessed with his youth dies after destroying the one thing keeping him young.

[thomas.cannon · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This is one of the many classics I missed in school. I enjoyed the book, but am glad I read the foreword so that I knew why Oscar Wilde wrote it (He wanted praise art that was for the sake of art alone). It was also helpful to know ahead of time not to expect much of a plot.

Mr. Wilde (along with footnotes) shines a light on the life and times of his age (Late 1800s). That made it interesting enough for me to read. He does not delve into the feelings of a character that does not age or bear the marks of a immoral life. However, the interplay of the characters does explain why he may not have guilt. The entire novel explains why guilt and concern for immorality is a trap to be avoided.

Of course, the murder Dorian Gray gets away with is not the thing Wilder cared about. He wanted to talk art.

[tobinelliott · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This one caught me by surprise. Like everyone else, I've always known the basic story of Dorian Gray, but, it was yet another classic that I'd somehow never gotten around to before now. And that's too bad, because this book just crackles with spirit.

Yes, the book is a product of its time, but its two main characters, the titular Dorian Gray and his friend Lord Henry absolutely light up the world when they're on page together. Dorian Gray is what Brett Easton Ellis only wished his American Psycho, Patrick Bateman, could be (minus the ubiquitous and excessive violence). Gray is the 19th century Narcissus, staring at his own increasingly repugnant painting while contrasting it with a reflected image of his youth.

But the painting does so much more than just grow old for him. It also takes his baser emotions. Gone are grief, and empathy, and love. What's left behind is only a shallow, sociopathic need for things, for experiences, but none satisfy. He's like a junkie forever chasing the memory of that first high. So, he's a wonderfully written and eminently fascinating character to dissect.

And Lord Henry! My god, damn near every phrase that Wilde has come out of his mouth is singularly quotable. He has a similarly contradictory outlook to life as most of the military leaders in Catch-22, without the satirical tongue in cheek. I flat out loved him. The novel is worth a second read just for his dialogue alone.

What a lovely surprise this book was.

[thedivineoomba · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Its not often I read a book that I find chilling. Not scary, but a character that makes you shiver.

Dorian Gray is a young handsome man who has the world falling at this feet. He makes an off-hand remark to some friends about never growing old and his portrait showing his age, etc. And it comes true. How, it doesn't matter. Under the influence of friend who lives his life without regard to anyone else, Dorian Gray becomes truly to evil.

Oscar Wilde wrote a remarkable book. Where it shines is how Mr. Wilde managed to write a book that at the top is light and shiny, but underneath it all is a dark goo. Also, the theme of right vs wrong is well written - the idea that if you don't do anything wrong, legally, but your words and actions causes pain, scandal, or death in others, ethically it drags you down.

This is book also has social commentary on the life style of the English upper class who have too much money, too much time, and not enough responsibilities to others.

[lukegoldstein · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Reeally interesting beginning. It's my first Oscar Wilde book so I was really taken back by how contemporary it felt. The set up for the scenario was really nice and kept the pace going, but then once the curtain fell on the main plot twist, it got very bogged down in description and pages and pages went by without anyone doing anything. I might have rated this lower, but it pulled it back together for the race to the end of the story and got my vote back. There is a good reason this story is known as a classic.

[mikepen-881889 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

A good solid 4 stars from me. Though I suspect this will be one of those books that sits at the back of my head, with more of a lingering effect than I am thinking right now, having just finished it. Dare say I will read it again sometime and indeed the rating may perhaps instead be a 5 star.

[wishanem · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

Not to my taste.

A clearer portrait of the author than his comedic plays, but not a pleasant one. Hedonism, cynicism, and melodramatic self-destructiveness were as much a part of Oscar as they are this work. I think the great reputation and broad dissemination of this book hurt it for me- I wasn't surprised by anything in it and I was expecting to be.

[musicformovies · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

While easily labeled as a classic gothic horror story; the Picture of Dorian Gray is far more than a scary bedtime tale. Does the soul exist? What is the meaning of life, and what brings happiness? Are we fated or do we have free will? Perhaps most importantly, can we improve for the better; does the life that we lead lead others to be their best selves, or their worse selves?

A relatively short read that leaves you with much to ponder after the last page has been turned.

[dzejncrvena · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This is my entry for the 2021 popSugar Reading Prompt #47: "A book from your TBR that you associate with a favourite person, place or thing"
So, my favorite person is named Dorijan and he also read this in high school.

Was it 2 years ago when I shelved it as DNF? Blame the preface. I appreciate art as well as its artist; I was not of sound mind to digest all those words that time. Glad I skipped it this time.
I couldn't put it down since chapter one. Even if I find Henry/Harry annoying, I highlighted most quotes from him. He makes sense, sometimes. We probably think alike.....or maybe not.
As for dear Dorian, I feel ya kid. *insert Forever Young chorus*

[wagner5sarah35 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

The concept is fascinating, but there's something about this book that just didn't work for me. Perhaps the long editorials about art or the sense of pretension throughout made me a bit sour, but I just couldn't quite love this book. It is, however, a very reasonable length for a classic, for that reason, I'd consider this one worth the read.

[kristelh_15 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Horror story by Oscar Wilde about a young man who sells his soul for eternal beauty. Read this for f2f book club.

[drfuriosa · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Well, that was...dark. An intriguing concept about the soul mirrored in a tangible object, but the writing veers from hilarious and quippy to overdramatic and decadent.

[lorifox · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

The interesting concept and character and plot development kept me interested even when the soliloquies of Lord Henry bored me into bouts of sleepiness. Overall, I enjoyed the book, which is well-written, and I didn’t quite see the ending coming, but I felt it was appropriate.

[paulagalvan-323293 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I knew the story and I've seen several movies about Dorian Gray, but I'd never read the book. I'm glad I finally decided to to do. I love the language and wit that Oscar Wilde uses to tell the story of his doomed friend, Dorian Gray , who gives over his soul to have everlasting youth and beauty. I say friend because it is thought that Mr. Wilde considered himself to be the character of Lord Henry Wootton in real life. And, if Dorian is the vain innocent that chooses a life of debauchery over virtue, then Lord Henry is surely the devil that tempted him along that path. The story is classic and the lesson it teaches is worth reflecting on. Does anything worth having come without a price? Probably not.

[fromthecomfychair · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

So much food for thought. Look forward to our bookclub discussion.