I agree: he is not sympathetic, and he is completely brainwashed by Lord Henry. As someone (I’ve lost track now) observed, time and time again Dorian is ready to reform himself, and he gives himself up instead to Lord Henry.

So a new thought: can a book be dangerous?

Can a book be dangerous? It depends on how heavy it is and from what height the book falls on your head.

(My lame attempt at a Wildean quip   )

I’m working on my Wilde post now, and part of what I find so interesting about the book is that nobody is sympathetic. Nobody! Not even poor dead Sibyl.

Yet they’re all universally admired for being ‘perfectly charming’. I think that’s Wilde’s strongest point, and maybe the reason why the book is still so popular...and Quillhill, I do think this book might be a little dangerous, if you read it and don’t get past Lord Henry’s charm. Heaven knows he sounds ‘perfectly charming’ on the surface.

Dorian thinks a book can be dangerous but Lord Henry says otherwise. It depends on who you believe. I’m with Sylvia, on this one though

One of the things about the characters that so bothered me is that no one takes any kind of responsibility for his actions.

Ella is right, everyone is so charming on the surface. The society people seem not to care about anything else--good, looks, charm, good manners, and money is all that matters. In the intro I found it interesting that Wilde says “Those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril.” He is talking about art and symbol but he could just as easily be talking about society or the people in it.

One of my favorite parts of the book comes a little over halfway when Dorian is going to church because he finds it beautiful. He is fascinated by the confessionals and longs “to sit in the dim shadow of one of them and listen to men and women whispering through the worn grating the true story of their lives.” I think this also plays into the surface life not matching the inner life and I found it curious that Dorian did not feel any kind of compulsion to make a confession of his own.

Isn’t Lord Henry just continuing his manipulation by saying a book can’t be dangerous, thus feeding into Dorian’s already ragged emotional state by making him doubt his own perceptions?

And yes, a well-tossed, multi-paged tome CAN cause some serious damage…

DNW

That scene in the church caught my attention too, as well as Basil’s final scene where he entreats Dorian to join him in prayer.

I thought one flaw in the book (at least the 1890 version) is that Lord Henry’s character is never explained. How is it that he avoids the guilt that Dorian struggles with? How does he avoid going beneath the surface? Is he human, or is he really “Old Harry”? And Wilde said that all the characters got their commupance, but what did Henry suffer other than ennui?

Lord Henry, in my mind, is “living” his commupance.  He preaches a lifestyle and a manner that he doesn’t partake of, and though he always seems wise, he is not, as he definitely doesn’t understand the depths to which a human can fall - evidenced by his claim that Dorian could never commit murder because he is somehow “above that” when we all know this to be far from true.

I love that word, by the way… ENNUI

It is the name of a painting by Walter Sickert - the very one, in fact, that author Patricia Cornwell claims as part of her proof that Sickert was actually Jack the Ripper.

Being a shameless pointer-outer of my own work...I wrote a story titled ENNUI that is “published” as part of the Amazon.com shorts program...it was on their selected list of the “Best of 2005” for whatever that’s worth…

There are a lot of good and bad things being said about Dorian Gray currently, but I have to think that one of the greatest tributes a story or novel could attain would be a group of thoughtful, intelligent readers still discussing it a hundred years or more after the fact…

DNW

I’m not formally in the group- though I love the list of upcoming possible reads- and I recently read TPODG to backfill my literary education, so I’m enjoying the discussion.  Can I wade in? 

What struck me about the church scene, about much of the book which I hadn’t known before reading it, is that Dorian and Lord Henry would seem so unreal, walking intellectual constructs. They’ve become so detached that no material joys or horrors touch them enough to mean more than merely killing time.  A fine pipe or murder become equivalent ways to spend twenty minutes. Henry remains that alien, even as his aging tells the incontrovertible truth of his fate.  Dorian’s true passions are occasionally aroused concerning the painting, the repository of his human stain.  I felt like his longing in the church was to breach that veil again, know what it’s like to feel genuinely alive, even temporarily willing the pain and grime.  By the end, his impending confrontation with the uglier aspects of mortality is the only thing that retains the power to thrill.  If, as some have said, Wilde was making a statement on the necessary detachment of Art from moral purpose, unlike Dickens’ agenda toward the poor for example, he certainly demonstrates that a soulless, unfeeling art appreciator is worse than dead.

Ella mentioned flowery metaphors in her post which reminded me that I wanted to bring up the flowers. What did y’all think of all the flowers in the story? The book opens with

The studio was filled with the rich odor of roses, and when the
light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden there came
through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more
delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn.

Someone quoted the scene where Dorian crushes a flower when Harry is first talking to him about youth and beauty. There is derogatory mention elsewhere about exotic flowers and orchids, presumably in comparison with fresh, pure, humble English garden or wild flowers. Sibyl is described as a crushed flower when Dorian dumps her. Is there anything to be gleaned from Wilde’s use of flowers in this story? Are the few negative incidents around flowers meant to indicate that what the beautiful Dorian is doing is not beautiful? I’m not sure there are enough of these incidents to really draw a conclusion.

My favorite floral reference:

“There were in it metaphors as monstrous as orchids, and as subtle in color.”

which is from a description of that naughty yellow book, of course, but it could also refer to “The Picture of Dorian Gray”. But honestly, I think he uses flowers so often in both physical descriptions (like the garden scene at the very beginning) and as metaphors, because the theme of beauty requires flowers. How can one have a beautiful scene, in the Wildean style, without them?

I think the multitude of flowers signifies a hothouse where the exotic varities are grown, which is the kind of insular steamy heady still-life of experience that occurs most significantly in Chapter Eleven.

The line about listening to other people’s confessions really struck a chord with me, too. It made me think about how people create stories about themselves, exagerating some things, down-playing others, and the only time they reveal their true selves is to their priest.

I really must re-read Chapter 11. Is that where Dorian finally becomes morally bankrupt? 

Sylvia - becomes?! How about ‘gets worse’?

Oh, I also wanted to nominate Owen Wister’s “The Virginian” for next month. Don’t we all need a Western after this? PLEASE give me an excuse to read this book…

(Chapter 11… get it? Oh, nevermind...)

Ha ha ha! Got it.

I may file for chapter eleven of the sense of humor, myself. Lacteal revenge has taken it ALL away.