The Picture of Dorian Gray (2005)

By Oscar Wilde
Amongst other things, this novel was accused by contemporary critics of being effeminate – and it really is quite startlingly so, in places, especially at the beginning. I did catch myself thinking at the start, oh for goodness sakes stop poncing around (oh look at the pretty flowers ooh ahh), but then thought I was being mean and that I may as well say something like “this is so gay”, in the unfortunate terminology of today’s yoof – today’s yoof! Don’t get me started – and after all, Wilde does write about those flowers so prettily. (An interesting aside – The Picture of Dorian Gray started life as a short story, and Wilde consciously made the longer version much less “effeminate” than the original).

However, I did find myself agreeing a bit with the critic in the June 1980 St James’s Gazette, who found Dorian’s petulant behaviour near the start of the novel a bit silly: “…when he is rebuked for being a naughty, wilful boy, he makes a pretty moue – this man of twenty!”. I mean really. In my defence I will say that I find moues unbecoming in women also; if you’re going to be sulky you should at least stomp around a bit and maybe throw something and stop trying to be sexy at the same time. (I tell you what, though, they knew how to write a totally decimating review back in the 1890s).

The book does get going a bit after the moue incident, when Dorian starts to dabble in doubtful activities, all the while staying youthful and unblemished while his portrait becomes steadily more ugly and decrepit. His friend Lord Henry, who really should cop more flak than he does for his part in the whole sorry story, really started to tick me off during his long speeches on how nothing is important except for pleasure and the senses and enjoying yourself. Oh yes, you’re so clever, Lord Henry, now shut up will you? Perhaps I inherited more of the Scottish Protestant Work Ethic than I thought. This all makes it sound like I didn’t like the book, which is not true; I enjoyed it very much. It is a strange mix of philosophy and horror; lovely writing; a good book for a cold rainy winter’s night with the fire going and a bottle of vintage port nearby.

Rating: 8 out of 10
One point deducted for the bit about the moue.