The Picture of Dorian Gray (1890) by Oscar Wilde

Wilde probably had written so many plays and so much poetry despite having only a single novel and a relatively small amount of short stories because prose doesn't seem to feature his particular talents—describing beautiful things in a witty fashion using beautiful words, and coming up with scandalous scenarios—as much as the other media of writing do. Certainly this novel seems to expose some of his flaws as a writer.

I found I couldn't connect with any of the characters, who felt more like talking heads existing to pass on Wilde's philosophical diatribe than human beings to which interesting things happen. Most glaringly, I couldn't understand the other characters' attachments to Dorian Gray, who, by my estimation, was nothing more than a pretty face. There certainly wasn't anything substantial within his character that drew me or, indeed, would draw anybody else. He's an empty vessel; we're told he's beautiful and he is wealthy, but he displays nothing at all of his own character in the entire first half of the book, never mind anything interesting.

I often felt that the three main characters blended together. They seem to lack many differentiating beliefs and they all speak with an almost identical voice. There was very little separating them whatsoever; especially Lord Henry and Dorian. The three seemed all to be facets of Wilde himself, indeed upon my research of the book I learned that he thought of them as such, too. None have their own unique character, save small differentiating factors: Basil has a sentimentalist streak, Lord Henry is just Dorian, but a bit older and more experienced.

Wilde's prose is littered with the witticisms he's known for and it's beautifully constructed, but I still can't help but think he makes a better poet and playwright than novelist. Dorian Gray reads more like a collection of nicely packaged Oscar Wilde quotes than it does a stand-alone novel. The pacing felt uneven as well; it's front-loaded with a slog of philosophical soliloquy as we're immediately piled on with Wilde's new Hedonism as provided gleefully by Lord Henry. Dorian is immediately taken with it, but from there the story takes a bit too long to get going as Wilde indulges himself in depictions of London's high society at the turn of the century, opera and plays and dinner parties and the like. Subsequent to this is Dorian's years-long slide into debauchery, which, disappointingly, is summarized within one chapter, punctuated by a peculiar set of forgettable paragraphs that drone on while listing all of passions which he indulges over the years. This was disappointing to me since the development of Dorian Gray as a character was what I was most looking forward to in the story. However Wilde recovers himself towards the end and remembers he's writing a damned novel, and eventually does add some characterization and move the plot along through the last 60 pages or so.


If you like Wilde's work, you'll probably like this. He chooses a spectacular premise to build the book around but my dissatisfaction stems from my feeling that he failed in constructing the pillars the story needed to rest upon. His philosophy is interesting as well, but I feel it failed in its application.

There's enough here to recommend a read, as Wilde is particularly well-suited to the description of beautiful things. I certainly came away with a bevy of new highlights. But I found it all ultimately superficial, Wilde's attempt at throwing a gloss over raw philosophical ramblings, something highly ironic considering the subject matter of The Picture of Dorian Gray.

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