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Oscar Wilde’s Picture of Dorian Gray

The book­club dis­cussed Oscar Wilde’s The Pic­ture of Dorian Gray. Read­ing this was a reminder that one reason I go to book­club is to be encour­aged to read books I oth­er­wise wouldn’t, and to get more out of them than I can on my own.

The Pic­ture of Dorian Gray (Wiki­pe­dia review) is the story of a beau­ti­ful young man who becomes evil and debauched after he views his por­trait and real­izes how much he wishes to stay look­ing young and beau­ti­ful. His wish is gran­ted; his outer form stays young and vig­or­ous while the paint­ing shows the effects of his life­style; he keeps the paint­ing hid­den from the world as long as pos­sible. The book played a role in Oscar Wilde’s trial and prob­ably influ­enced his being convicted.

I had a hard time get­ting through the book and skimmed many of the more bor­ing pas­sages. While we were dis­cuss­ing the book, it became obvi­ous that part of the reason I didn’t enjoy it as much as the oth­ers did was because I got a ver­sion without foot­notes or an explan­at­ory intro­duc­tion. Know­ing some­thing of the lit­er­ary allu­sions makes a big dif­fer­ence. Those bor­ing pas­sages, for example, were sup­posedly inten­ded to illus­trate the tedium of parts of Dorian Gray’s life. Not that any­one at book­club read them in detail.

The second edi­tion has a lot of changes from the first edi­tion; new char­ac­ters, pas­sages designed to tone down the homo­eroti­cism, and we had some fun try­ing to fig­ure out how the Victorian-era audi­ence would have seen the novel, com­pared to the way it would be under­stood today. This is where those foot­notes (which the oth­ers in book­club had in their edi­tions) came in handy.

It’s prob­ably an import­ant book to have read, given its his­tor­ical sig­ni­fic­ance; I doubt that I’ll read it again in the near future but if I did, I’d get another, annot­ated, version.

{ 5 } Comments

  1. Riddle Me | Aug 16, 2007 at 1:47 pm | Permalink

    A riddle related to Dorian Gray ori­gin­ally expressed at the begin­ning of Tom Stoppard’s play “Pro­fes­sional Foul”:

    What is it that, as the years pass by seems to get ever younger?

    Answer in next comment!

  2. Riddle Me | Aug 16, 2007 at 1:48 pm | Permalink

    Answer:

    A photo/portrait of yourself.

  3. Anthony B. Coates | Aug 17, 2007 at 1:03 am | Permalink

    When I was at high school, my Eng­lish teacher couldn’t under­stand why the whole class kept break­ing out in laughter as we were read­ing one of Shakespeare’s plays. The reason was that he had an old ver­sion with no foot­notes, we all had a new ver­sion with foot­notes explain­ing what his vari­ous expres­sions actu­ally meant. It made a huge dif­fer­ence to our appre­ci­ation of it.
    Cheers, Tony.

  4. Alex Waterhouse-Hayward | Aug 22, 2007 at 8:49 pm | Permalink

    Dear Lauren,

    While liv­ing in Mex­ico in the early 70s my only know­ledge of rock and roll were the Beetles and Clear­ance Clear­wa­ter Revival. The reason for this was that the only good rock sta­tion in town only played those two bands with the idea of vot­ing at the end of every day (for months on end) which was the bet­ter band. People would phone in their choice. While teach­ing at an Amer­ican high school in Mex­ico City my stu­dents asked me if I had ever heard of Alice Cooper. My answer was telling, “Who’s she?”

    In the same way read­ers in Van­couver and many book clubs tend to choose their books from a select and often nar­row list of clas­sics and con­tem­por­ary writers.

    There are two that I would recom­mend that would not be on either lists. The first one is the Nobel Prize win­ner from Por­tugal, José Saramago.

    His most access­ible book is the superbly trans­lated into Eng­lish (Gio­vanni Pon­tiero) The His­tory of the Siege of Lis­bon. It is sort of time travel yet it isn’t. You quickly learn to under­stand and appre­ci­ate the author’s min­imum punc­tu­ation. This par­tic­u­lar novel is a beau­ti­ful love story that would appeal to any romantic.

    The second author, José Car­los Zomoza is a Cuban born psy­chi­at­rist who lives in Spain. His, The Art of Murder would appeal to those who migh enjoy Wil­liam Gib­son with more of a twist. This novel writ­ten in 2001 is about a future world in 2006(!) in which nobody hangs picures on the wall any­more. Sculp­ture is obsol­ete. What has taken their place? That’s the surprise.

    Both of these books show that Latin Amer­ican and Por­tuguese writers are push­ing the bound­ary as to what a novel means.
    Alex Waterhouse-Hayward

  5. Loretta | Aug 27, 2007 at 11:03 am | Permalink

    I always mean to join a book club so that I’ll get back into read­ing again and like you said read and appre­ci­ate things that I might oth­er­wise have missed.

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