The Picture of Dorian Gray

The Picture of Dorian Gray

By Oscar Wilde

Although this is barely more than a short story, Oscar Wilde stuffs it full of themes, meanings, and ideas enough to make my head spin. If I had taken the time to go through the chapters, dissecting the paragraphs one by one, I have a feeling I would have found a lot more being said by Wilde through his characters and his world. Dorian Gray's journey from innocence to depravity in the search for true beauty is uncensored in its grotesque description, yet in a strange sense, I see that same journey being reflected in the real world. Perhaps not as extreme, perhaps even more so, but in any case, Gray is certainly not the only character, fiction or non-fiction, to struggle with and fall prone to the sweet pleasures of distruction

The most prominent element of this book that everybody knows is, of course, Dorian Gray's magical portrait. By an unknown mysterious force, Dorian finds that his portrait suffers the brunt of the passing years and his own depraved lifestyle--while the real Dorian Gray stays fresh, handsome, and young, the portrait ages into a hideous monster that bespeaks of horrible crimes and actions in the real Dorian's life. It is a fantastic idea--having eternal youth while one's own sins are never reflected in our facial expressions, in the dark glimmer in our eyes, in the cruel twist of the mouth (in Oscar Wilde's own words). Dorian Gray, despite his depraved lifestyle, retains the innocent face of his youth, and this is something that almost everyone has wished for at least one time or another. Wars have been fought over eternal youth. Legends have been born to make it real. Futile quests have been embarked in search for that elusive element to make life seemingly complete.

And Dorian Gray gets it.

Oscar Wilde does a fantastic job of passing over the supernatural elements of this event. He does not dwell in a pointless explanation about how this magic works; that isn't the point, after all. He moves on quickly, describing Dorian Gray's reaction--of horror, of ecstacy, of dread, of paranoia, of pride, of disgust. The changes in Dorian's relationship with the portrait are, arguably, the central part of the story, because it is in this relationship that Oscar Wilde explores the contemplation of self. Dorian is reacting to the portrait, but he is also reacting to himself. Every time a new twisted feature is added onto the painting, Dorian either goes into bouts of dispair and self-hatred, and a sort of hyper ecstacy in knowing that nobody but himself will ever see it. The exploration of one's deepest, darkest secrets; the thrills of hiding and the dreads of discovery, all this becomes central in Wilde's narration of human life and relationships.

One of the characters I really want to adress is Lord Henry. He embodies Wilde--he is the prologue of the book, the motivation of Dorian Gray, the anti-conscience that moves the story towards destruction whenever the characters start to ponder the morality of their actions. Unlike Dorian, Lord Henry seems to realize that the true beauty he seeks is beyond reach. He is content to simply think about it, without actually trying to reach it himself. He knows it is impossible, improbable, and unsuited to him. But still, he wishes to glimpse even a bit of it, and he chooses to fulfill this desire by catharsis. Let Dorian and other beautiful creatures strive for ultimate beauty--Lord Henry will watch from the sidelines, a happy audience to their beauty's formation, only stepping on stage to keep them from being sidetracked into "ugly" things like justice or truth.

What is truth? A mere fancy. What is love? A fleeting piece of true art. What is beauty? Nobody knows, but through Dorian Gray's life Lord Henry gets pretty close to finding out. Yet in the end, the beauty they both sought leads to Dorian Gray's destruction, so it seems that Oscar Wilde is denying the merits of beauty. After all, if Dorian's search for beauty ends with a hideous death, then who would want to follow his footsteps. But it may also be noted that the book closes on a description of the lovely portrait--the portrait of Dorian Gray in all his splendor, innocence, and youthful beauty. So was true beauty really reached in the end?

Wilde leaves that for the audience to decide.

The Woman in White

The Woman in White

by Wilkie Collins

A very long book with a fast-paced narration. There are so many amazing elements to this book that I'm not sure where to start. It can be tedious at times for modern readers who are often exasperated by cliches and stereotypical characterization, but Collins still manages to surprise his audience in the end with his surprising revelation at the end of the book.

The Woman in White is narrated from various points of view by different characters in the story, but the two most important characters are Walter Harthright and Marian Halcombe. When Sir Harthright goes to teach two ladies at Limmeridge House a bit of painting, he unwittingly falls in love with one of them, Miss Laura Fairlie, and is entreated by the other lady Ms. Halcombe to go away from the House before Laura Fairlie's betrothed arrives. Accordingly, Harthright leaves the country in a heartbroken state, completely unaware of the series of unfortunate events soon to befall Laura and Marian. After Laura reluctantly marries Sir Percival Glyde, they find that he is a brutish man who has only married Laura for her money--money which cannot be obtained by him unless Laura is first dead and gone.

What follows is a desperate battle between the two sisters and Sir Percival and his deceptively charming friend Count Fosco...and the final unravelling of the mystery of the woman in white who has been appearing throughout the story the whole time.

The author's narration style completely catches my attention as the events begin to unfold. I often found myself shouting "Noooo!" or "Wait! Stop! You can't!" at the pages of my innocent book, much like the audiences in movie theatres yell at the actress in the horror movie, "DON'T open the door!" Collins achieves this suspense and actively engages the reader by using several different points of view to portray his story. Each time a new character comes in to continue the story where it was left off, the reader is given a more complete picture of what is going on, while the characters are left ignorant of what is to come. In essence, it is dramatic irony in its most fitting genre: mystery.

At the same time, Collins doesn't spiral down into the never-ending pit of sentimentalities and fantastic adventures. The circumstances he weaves together as a series of coincidences, ill-placed luck, and deliberate schemes are realistic--at least, for that period of time. The woman in white, titular to the story, is not some phenomenal superpowered character that she is initially portrayed as. Though she holds the key to the mystery and indeed sets off many of the chains of events that occur, ultimately she is not the one who unlocks the final questions for the reader. Nor are the actions of the antagonists of the story unjustified; as repulsive as Count Fosco is, and as contemptible as Sir Percival appears to be, their motives for their unforgivable actions against the two sisters stem, not from some intricately elaborate desire for evil or revenge, but simple want of money and power. Collins' characters are humane and flawed, making it impossible to stereotype them into completely seperate "love or hate" categories. Reality is emphasized, yet the story stays true to fiction in the excitement it offers.

The one single complaint I had against this book was Laura Fairlie. Oh, Laura Fairlie. The weak-willed and beautiful embodiment of all that is frail, gentle, and pure...and frail. And Frail. Throughout the entire book, Walter Harthright and Marian Halcombe exert their utmost capabilities to protect this charming young creature from harm. Laura's protection is their chief motivation in going against the dangerous Count Fosco; Laura's happiness is their happiness, Laura's smile is their greatest reward, Laura's love gratifies their hearts, etc, etc, &c. I respect Harthright for his daring resourcefulness and bold spirit in challenging his adversaries at their own game. I admire Marian Halcombe for her impeccible memory and judgment, as well as her well-endowed intelligence. Meanwhile, Laura is left behind in the dust. She is nothing more than a victim, and her role in the story does not seem to go beyond the fact that she is the one ultimately wronged by Percival and the Count. The weakness of her character was, in turn, the weakness in the story...at least, that was how I felt.

But as I've said, Harthright and Halcombe are both admirable characters, forging through impossible situations (kindly set up by Count Fosco himself) with nothing but their wits about them (as cheesy as it sounds). Though the book isn't swashbuckling in nature, there is enough action and conflict to keep readers reading late into the night, wishing for the protagonists' victory the whole time.