Repensky Reads 

Repensky Reads: A “Wilde” story

By Allison Repensky (arepensky@css.edu)

December 13, 2024

     Call me crazy, but I’m not the type to read cozy winter stories during the holiday season. I prefer to check books off my reading list, no matter how weird or strange. There’s nothing cozier than cuddling up with a good (albeit slightly unorthodox) book, a soft blanket and a cup of hot cocoa for the winter season.

     This month, I decided to finally finish “The Picture of Dorian Gray” by Oscar Wilde, a classic tale about vice, beauty and decadence—one that sparked heated public debate due to its “homoeroticism” when first published in 1890. Thanks to my “Norton Critical Edition,” I was able to read both the uncensored 1890 edition and Wilde’s second version (referred to by scholars as a censorship-like response to public criticism) in 1891. Oh, and in case you were wondering, the English major in me was absolutely giddy comparing the subtle yet glaring differences between the two. But that’s a story for another time.

     Oscar Wilde (1854–1900) was an Irish poet and playwright famous for his scandalous affair with Lord Alfred Douglas, as well as his flamboyant personality—not to mention his status today as a queer icon. I’ve always been drawn to Wilde’s writing style in the way he uses paradoxes (seemingly absurd or contradictory elements), plays with language and uses satire. And “The Picture of Dorian Gray” does not disappoint. Regardless of which version you read, it’s witty, snarky and slightly disturbing… and it will probably make you laugh uncontrollably and ugly cry. It’s a rollercoaster, so buckle up, folks. 

     Some content warnings before we get started: mortality, death, aging, murder, blood (not graphic), corpses and brief mentions of suicide. Oh, and spoilers for the book, of course.

     The plot hinges on young Dorian Gray and (you guessed it) his portrait, painted by Basil Hallward to immortalize his youthful beauty. When Basil’s friend Lord Henry Wotton tells Dorian that youth and beauty are all that matter in life (and that once they fade, life is no longer worth living), Dorian is struck by his own mortality and temporary beauty. He exclaims that he wishes he could change places with his portrait; that way, the portrait would grow old, and he would stay young and beautiful. 

     Later on in the book, it becomes increasingly clear that Dorian’s wish has been granted, though he does not realize it until after his quick, pleasure-filled engagement to actress Sybil Vane. Once they are engaged, Sybil’s acting—arguably the only reason Dorian married her—begins to deteriorate, and Dorian ends their relationship, eventually leading to Sybil’s suicide. While Dorian attempts to reckon with her death, Lord Henry Wotton offers his hedonistic and aesthetic ideals on the matter. Gradually, under Lord Henry’s “tutelage,” Dorian becomes much more cruel and cold, appearing now in his portrait as a wicked smirk. Dorian hides the portrait (out of sight, out of mind, right?) but continues to lead a life marked by the pursuit of pleasure, debauchery and hedonism. 

     Here’s where it gets weird (if it already wasn’t weird enough): as Dorian ages, he remains relatively unchanged in appearance, still looking as youthful and beautiful as before. But here’s the catch: the Dorian in his portrait grows ugly, old and cruel, while he appears young and beautiful… but is morally corrupt on the inside.

     And here’s where it gets disturbing (if it wasn’t already disturbing enough). Basil, the guy who painted the portrait of Dorian Gray, revisits his old friend after hearing rumors about his unsavory behavior, and Dorian shows him the state of the now-hideous painting. Basil immediately catches onto Dorian’s moral depravity and calls on him to repent, reform, blah blah blah… to which Dorian responds, as one does, by stabbing and killing Basil. And thus the painting becomes even more deformed, and the hand in the painting, in true “Macbeth” fashion, is stained with blood.

     Lots of things happen after that, some of them seemingly unrelated to the narrative. Dorian tries to reform, but his heart’s just not in it (poor thing), and his portrait only mocks him. 

     And finally, we come to the novel’s chilling conclusion, the moment you’ve all been waiting for. Dorian has had enough. He’s fed up with his portrait and disgusted with himself. So he does what any sensible person would: he stabs the painting in the heart. Yes, the painting of himself. You can probably guess what happens next. Before dying, Dorian and the portrait of himself switch places. The Dorian in the painting once again appears young and beautiful, while the corpse of Dorian Gray quickly turns old and deformed.

     I know it’s not exactly the coziest pick for winter reading, but I just couldn’t help myself. If you want a break from the cloying sweetness of the holiday season, and give Oscar Wilde’s “The Picture of Dorian Gray” a read! Trust me on this one.