Textual Teasers: Tantalizing Tid-bits to Taunt your Literary Taste.

October 9, 2008 by Jena  Send to a Friend

Every week I’ll sample the goods and spit out the juiciest pieces of prose and poetry for you—heavy on flavor, light on fat. In spirit of the month leading up to Halloween I thought I’d entertain you this October (and torture my poor susceptible imagination) with some wickedly well-written, terrifying tales. For your second deadly dose: the boy who learned how art reflects life reflects art and steals your soul.

(Or something like that.)

The Picture of Dorian Gray—Oscar Wilde (Ward, Lock, and Company, 1891)

 “Dorian Gray is engaged to be married,” said Lord Henry, watching him as he spoke.

Hallward started, and then frowned. “Dorian engaged to be married!” he cried. “Impossible!”

“It is perfectly true.”

“To whom?”

“To some little actress or other.”

“I can’t believe it. Dorian is far too sensible.”

“Dorian is far too wise not to do foolish things now and then, my dear Basil.”

“Marriage is hardly a thing that one can do now and then, Harry.”

“Except in America,” rejoined Lord Henry languidly.

Basic Ingredients:

I chose this particular novel because of a few certain attributes: 1) it is actually very creepy—witty and insightful—but the reality of the narrative is still very very creepy 2) it is short and reads quickly—which means I’m more likely to get people to pick it up 3) it is something you can read again and again and you will only find yourself understanding and enjoying it more each time (this was the third time I’ve read it and I rarely have the patience to re-read anything). I present to you the gift that keeps on giving: The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde.

Wilde is most notably remembered for his green carnations, infamous death, and plays with a wit so keen you could sharpen a steak knife on it. He plays his characters against each other and themselves in constant battles of the tongue and trickery, with rhetoric so fast and so layered you feel slightly frazzled and electrified when it’s over. You may recall reading (my favorite) The Importance of Being Earnest in high school English or wherever (which, by the way, is to be read or seen on the stage–the Reese Witherspoon movie changes the whole ending, the whole perfectly ambiguous ending! [insert snorts of rage and disbelief here]). Well, this work has all that and more (muuwahahaha).

In his first and only novel, Wilde manages to delve deep into the dark corners of the human soul through seemingly surface philosophies on art and the proper life of the upper class in 19th century England. I say “seemingly surface” only because the majority of the said philosophies are delivered in large part by the playboy dandy, Lord Henry, who finds all thought insignificant and only things of insignificance worthy of thought. The plot goes like so: Dorian’s questionably homoerotic relationship with his painter friend Basil Hallward stalls when dainty Dorian discovers the wiles of the world through the wicked words of wild Lord Henry. When Dorian begins to act outside of his kind, youthful innocence he finds that it is his poor portrait (painted by dear Basil) that bears the terrors of his actions while his own face remains untouched. He must hide his portrait from the world lest they discover his petrifying plight.

While the main character is undoubtedly Dorian Gray, the real catalyst–or perhaps puppet master–in the story is Lord Henry. Even if you have no desire to dive into the depths of human self-destruction, simply by reading the first 2 pages you will be sucked in by the supple, smooth speech of Lord Henry. Besides the occasional repetitive pondering, the novel is a true gem of genius. Written with a mix of Wilde’s characteristic flair, Gothic horror novel narrative and elaborate French fiction elements, The Picture of Dorian Gray is both a charming and horrifying read.

 Next week: Vicious verses for wishes and curses.

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