On The Picture of Dorian Gray

One of the books I chose to read from the summer list was Oscar Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Gray. I selected it solely on the basis of my love of Wilde's wit in The Importance of Being Earnest, his most famous play, which I had adored for its delightful tendency to spout ridiculous paradoxes and quizzical epigrams that often seemed to capture truths about human society. But I knew that Dorian Gray, Wilde's only novel, was going to be a different experience entirely--and indeed it was. Gone are the humor and light-heartedness of Earnest; instead Wilde sets his gaze on something darker and much more sinister. The subject matter has transferred from the farce of Victorian London social conventions to a culture of "new hedonism" in a beautiful youth, and first name mishaps and secret trips to the countryside are replaced by murder and deceit. But what remains is Wilde's ability to unleash thought-provoking concepts from the mouths of intriguing and often intentionally limited characters and to portray his distinct persona through the work itself.

I find it difficult to classify Dorian Gray as an example of "good" or "bad" storytelling for the reason that I think it is a bit of both. The novel's greatest strengths as a story come through in the character dialogue--often that between the three main characters--and in Dorian's psychological struggles that  culminate in his darker thoughts and actions.

Character development is usually cited as playing an important role in involving the reader and making a story believable; my favorite aspect of Dorian Gray is that its introductory narrative descriptions of the characters are brief and limited to that moment in time. All the reader can rely on throughout the novel to see changes (or lack thereof) in the main characters is the sometimes infrequent dialogue between them. What is most fascinating is to recognize that Dorian is changing as he succumbs to the various dark influences in his life--the "yellow book," Harry's "new hedonism," and Dorian's own obsession with the youth and beauty for which he is so oft praised--but meanwhile to observe that in their dialogue with him, Basil and Harry remained unchanged in their ways of thinking. Neither realizes the true nature of the changes taking place within our antihero.

This leads to the next strength of the novel, which lies within is its dealings in the realm of the mind and the conscience. While critics may point out that Wilde borrowed the plot concept from previous writers, he has certainly executed the story of the beautiful youth and aging painting in a smooth and effective manner. What I find most intriguing is the inherent paradox of Dorian's circumstances. While his situation allows him the permanence of beauty, thus perpetuating his ability to commit evil, the portrait stands as an ever-present representation of his conscience, nagging at him to give up his dark new life and redeem his soul. To grapple with these two conflicting emotions is a formidable task--and it is this constant grappling that makes for the best moments of story-telling in the novel. When Dorian first sees the changes that have become apparent in the painting, his obsession that follows consumes him--and the reader. Is the painting actually changing? Or is this simply a figment of Dorian's overwhelmed mind and battered conscience? These questions are reminiscent of Poe's "The Tell-Tale Heart," which deals with similar concepts of guilt and obsession, and the experience of not knowing the answers is an engaging aspect of the story.

As events unfold and Dorian gives in to the pleasures and temptations of evil, an important nuance of the story is Wilde's ability to keep the reader, to a certain extent, on Dorian's side. We have seen his darkness and witnessed his self-destruction, and yet when he begins to repent and seek forgiveness by sparing his newest female conquest, we cannot help but hope that this once innocent youth can escape his inevitable fate. Having thoroughly convinced us of the effects of outside influences on Dorian's actions, Wilde has successfully manipulated us into forgiving Dorian for his sins. We do not hate him; in some ways, we find him almost tragic. And this is very important in giving the novel significance.

However, alongside such strengths there are also some weak areas in the story-telling. Most obvious are the narrative's tedious passages chronicling Dorian's various collections and fascinations with art and fashion. Seemingly endless references to highly esoteric people and places forced me to put down the book on one or more occasions, as I found these slow points to be unnecessary, often hindering the progression of the plot. Additionally, I observed that the extra time spent on needless detail could have been effectively used to bolster some undeveloped areas of the story. Frequent references to Dorian's evil actions are meant to assure us of his turn to the dark side, and yet, aside from Basil's murder and Sybil's suicide, the reader is not informed to any certain level of most of Dorian's other foul deeds. As a character, he is on some levels undeveloped. His mistreatment of women is not explained and his motives are in many cases not given. Is he so corrupt that his dark actions are automatic? Does he not fully consider why he does things, and only that he must do them in order to not be defeated by temptation?

Admittedly, in asking this, I have led myself to a conclusion. As a fault, Wilde's brevity also contributes to the novel's greatest attribute: its involvement of the reader in interpretation. We are left to decide if Dorian was truly evil, if Harry's theories could be plausibly applied to life, if the "curse" really existed. Ultimately, we are left asking ourselves, Did Wilde really think this way? Is he condoning or warning against such behavior? Is the tragic drama that Dorian pursues truly a form of art in itself? Or is his life's only true art that which remains when the story concludes--a flawless picture of Dorian Gray?

My Top 7 Most Memorable Books

1. The Book Thief, Markus Zusak -- This is one of the earliest books I read that had a profound effect on me. Within the setting of Nazi Germany it explores issues that were in some ways foreign to me as a young girl--death, loss, and persecution--and the experience of reading gave me food for thought that has lasted to this day.
2. The Importance of Being Earnest, Oscar Wilde -- One of my all-time favorites. This was my introduction to both Wilde as an author and to plays as a genre of pleasure reading, not just as an academic experience. I loved the whimsicality and wit of the characters, and I greatly enjoyed Wilde's sense of humor. It was my experience with this play that led me to choose The Picture of Dorian Gray as one of my summer reading books.
3. Outlander, Diana Gabaldon--Intriguing time-travel premise, historical context, moving romance--loved it! The characters and the language completely immersed me in Gabaldon's world. Have yet to read the rest of the series but I look forward to doing so.
4. The Fountainhead, Ayn Rand--This book made me think more than most. It was definitely a love-hate relationship--but in the end it has affected my way of thinking in a significant way. Obviously concerned mostly with developing her theories and belief system, Rand is occasionally caught up in her treatise (although less so than in Atlas Shrugged, which I found to be a step-down on the literary level from The Fountainhead.) The Fountainhead steered me towards libertarian ideals and caused me to re-evaluate my political and social thought. I thank Rand for her willingness to redefine "selfishness" as it has had an important influence on the way I try to live my life.
5. Catcher in the Rye, J. D. Salinger--My favorite book that I have ever been assigned to read in school. Holden was such a relatable character on so many levels, and his narration was refreshing. This inspired me to pursue a similar reading experience in The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime.
7. The Hunger Games--A more recent and less classical novel, this is my favorite of the fantasy/adventure/romance novels around today. A new level up from Twilight and Harry Potter, The Hunger Games was thought-provoking and page turning. I have read all three and look forward to a move that will certainly not do justice to the original story.

Graham Moore's The Sherlockian

Being an avid Sherlock Holmes fan (as a child, I claimed that my favorite actor was Basil Rathbone, who played Sherlock in the 1939 film series) I was immediately interested in reading The Sherlockian by Graham Moore. The novel is a fictionalized account of two true stories--the first being that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle killed off Sherlock Holmes in 1893 only to later revive him in 1901 for no apparent reason; and the second that in 2004 the leading Holmes scholar claimed to have found Doyle's missing diary, but was soon found in a hotel room strangled to death by a shoelace. From these two separate occurances, Moore creates two parallel mysteries that take the reader on a fascinating tour of the world of Sherlock Holmes.


The Sherlockian is in my opinion an excellent example of storytelling for several reasons.

First, it is intriguing in its use of reality. A mix of non-fiction and fiction allows for the story to contain real-life relevance while still granting the author flexibility of plot. The fact that he is supported by frequent quoting of Doyle and a style that is reminiscent of a Holmes novel allows for an even more pleasurable experience as a Holmes fan.

But even for someone with no prior knowledge of the detective, The Sherlockian presents a storyline that makes for great reading. The narrative switches back and forth from chapter to chapter between the present (2010) and the past (1900). This is done very well, as the two separate stories begin to weave together.

An example of Moore's play with setting can be seen as he switches between the time periods. Back in 1900, Arthur writes in his diary...

     "'Killed Holmes,' he wrote.
     Arthur felt light. His shoulder muscles loosened. He closed his eyes and inhaled the dark air. He was so happy.
     He was careful to lock his precious diary back in the desk before stepping out into the hallway in search of brandy."

The next chapter begins:

     "'To murder!' repeated Jeffrey Engels for emphasis, back in the Algonquin Hotel.
     Harold paused. Something was very wrong here.
     'The affair has taken a grave turn? To murder?' Jeffrey said again, with a touch of hesitation.
     Harold laughed. "The quote is from 'The Adventure of Six Napoleons," he said. "You owe me a drink."
     'Well done!' Jeffrey beamed. 'So I do.'
     'But I think you owe me two drinks. The quote isn't quite right. It should be 'the affair has taken a  very much graver turn.'"

As Moore impresses us with his knowledge of Sherlock, he also draws us into the story as we buy into a world of scholars who are devoted to finding Doyle's lost diary. The rapid intrigue which marks the best page-turners is in this novel balanced by an intellectualism that, though it may be new to the reader, is certainly fun to become a part of. As I read, I felt more and more connected to the search, wanted to know myself what was inside of the lost diary.

Finally, Moore's message is an interesting one, and it makes for a satisfying, thought-provoking ending. His exploration of the human need for answers, for illumination, asks exactly why we need to know what the diary says in the first place. Howard's reaction to discovering the diary is in itself a very interesting comment on our own drive to find out what we don't know.

In whole, The Sherlockian is a great example of storytelling and a novel that I would read again and recommend.