Author: I. Abbasi A.
•1:32 PM

  • Anglo-Saxon and Medieval Writing

In terms of strictly English fiction, the earliest remaining works are those of the Anglo-Saxon period, most famously Beowulf, written in the 8th century. Again, though, this is a poem. In fact, only Apollonius of Tyre has survived as evidence of an Old English prose romance genre – and we only have this by the chance of its being copied into the back of a book of homilies and laws in the 11th century. Therefore prose fiction may have existed in greater quantities before the Norman Conquest, but it seems from the examples that we have that prose was usually employed for sermons and other religious writings, legal and documentary texts, and travel / medical books.

Fiction in the Middle Ages also tended to be written in the form of poems (The Canterbury Tales (circa 1387-1400) and Gawain and the Green Knight (c. 1400)), or was transmitted in the form of morality plays. After 1470, though, Caxton began to print the works of Chaucer, Gower and Malory. The printing press made prose fiction a practical possibility and in the early years of the 16th century the Humanists (principally Thomas More and his friend, the Dutchman Desiderius Erasmus) began to write. However, their famous books Utopia (1516) and Encomium Moriae (1511, "The Praise of Folly") were written in Latin, which was still the language of official documents. Utopia, although it was veiled as a genuine account of a traveller’s experiences in a strange land, was nonetheless a work of prose fiction.


  • The Birth of the Novel

Swift and Defoe

It was in the early years of the 18th century that the novel as we know it began to be written. As Walter Allen writes in The English Novel, "Nothing that preceded it in the way of prose fiction can explain it. There were no classical models for it". Certainly Sidney and Cervantes’s Don Quixote (translated into English in 1612) were models of a sort, but what developed in the works of the great innovators of the novel form (Swift and Defoe) had more in common with histories, plays and moral tales. What prose fiction before 1670 lacked was what Hazlitt calls, "the close imitation of men and manners… the very texture of society as it really exists". The novel emerged when authors fused adventure and romance with verisimilitude and heroes that were not supermen but, frankly, insignificant nobodies.

It is no surprise, then, that Swift and Defoe’s seminal works of fiction, now seen as the progenitors of the novel form, were pseudo-histories. Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe (1719) was based on the actual desert island adventures of Alexander Selkirk. Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels (1726), though a satire and spoof of the far-fetched travel literature of the Middle Ages, (where stories of twenty-foot tall dragon- headed women, disembodied heads on legs and so on abounded) was written as a narration by a traveller (like More’s Utopia). Coleridge claimed that Crusoe was "the universal representative, the person, for whom every reader could substitute himself". Therein lies the key to both the appeal of the novel and its imminent ubiquity: the real world. Of course, neither a happy desert island sojourn nor capture in a land full of one foot tall people can be termed ‘realistic’, but the narrators of these first novels spoke as if they were, and they themselves were ordinary representatives of humanity. In Moll Flanders (1719 and 1722) Defoe offered an ordinary setting and a familiar world but presented an extraordinary woman, strange in her actions and compelling in her adventures but ultimately not abnormal: more deserving of infamy than fame. It is significant that Defoe’s other major work was A Journal of the Plague Year (1722), a fictionalized account of an historical event. Truth and a degree of verisimilitude were essential to the early novel.


  • Epistolary Novels

Richardson and Fielding

As the 18th century progressed, the novel began to take shape with the publication of Samuel Richardson’s Pamela in 1740 and Clarissa (1748). These were written in the form of letters and again this lent a false ‘realness’ to the enterprise and started something of a vogue in epistolary novel writing. It is Henry Fielding, though, who is seen to have established the English novel form, oddly enough in direct reaction against Richardson. Joseph Andrews (1742) was initially conceived as a satire on Pamela but became much more than mere ribbing or criticism. Like Richardson he became a novelist almost by accident when the 1737 Licensing Act censored the stage to the extent that Fielding abandoned writing for it. He wrote with a great sense of irony and satirized the manners and values of his time (especially those extolled by Richardson). He would certainly not be the last to use the novel to poke fun at his contemporaries, something enjoyed later by Tobias Smollett, Laurence Sterne, and Jane Austen .

With Tom Jones (1746) Fielding displayed an entirely new degree of skill in plot development and technical innovation. Further, Tom Jones himself was a new kind of hero: flawed, ordinary, weak and un-heroic in spite of his good looks and bravery. Smollett took this a stage further with his many novels centred around caricatured, despicable and dehumanized heroes (in the adventures of Roderick Random, Peregrine Pickle and so on). Smollett was a curmudgeon and an appalling grouch (see his hilariously grumpy Travels Through France and Italy (1766) for proof) and his sociopathic attitudes infiltrated his fiction. Even in his best and most humane novel, The Expedition of Humphrey Clinker (1771), the character Lismaho is described as resembling a rather unpleasant-looking insect. Smollett depicted his characters as he saw the world: as a vulgar and absurd parade. Everyone was exaggerated and caricatured. Nothing was sacred.


  • Haunted Castles versus Small Town Romance

Radcliffe and Austen

In 1765, Horace Walpole published the Castle of Otranto and, in doing so, instigated the vogue in so- called ‘Gothic’ writing. It was a bit brief and insubstantial to be called a novel, but it successors would be longer, subtler and more complex. The Gothic was a fundamentally populist, even artless, form. Beckford’s Vathek (translated from French into English in 1786) was something of a detour as it is the only English ‘oriental’ tale of note apart from Rasselas. Its combination of extremely black humour, settings in imaginatively otherworldly foreign places, and Gothic towers places it in the transitional phase of English fiction, between the realistic novel and the flights of imaginative fancy that were to come. The latter type, again largely Gothic, was to be found in the writings of Ann Radcliffe, Matthew Lewis and, later, Mary Shelley.

Novels had previously been, to a great extent, the playing out of possibilities and were now to become for an exciting period the playing out of improbabilities. Simultaneously with the great days of Gothic fiction, of castles, ragged landscapes and mystery in strange lands, and a public fascination with the incest, devilry and horror of Lewis’s The Monk (1796) came a backlash that would shape novel writing for the entire 19th century. That backlash came in human form and with the name Jane Austen. From the 1790s onwards Austen wrote tales of small town uneventfulness, tending to explore character rather than event. Hers was a non-judgemental but sensitive eye for detail. Northanger Abbey (published 1818 but written much earlier), probably her first completed extant novel directly ridiculed Ann Radcliffe’s popular Gothic novel, The Mysteries of Udolpho (1794). Austen’s other famous novels such as Sense and Sensibility (1811) and Pride and Prejudice (1813) left the ‘sublime’ foreign locations and landscapes of Radcliffe behind, and were complex and often extremely amusing and subtle investigations of English manners and society.


  • Popular Novels With a Social Conscience

Dickens and Eliot

Apart from the self-centred but compellingly exaggerated autobiographies of de Quincey’s Confessions of an English Opium Eater (1822) and Borrow’s Lavengo (1851), the novel tended to retain its predominantly fictional basis. The horror within everyday life was also to be investigated by Dickens and George Eliot, the former in, almost without exception, urban settings and the latter in bleak, out of the way, nowhere towns. Dickens’s early work was both unrealistic and by-and-large humorous without being as satirical as his more complex later fiction. The Pickwick Papers (1835-7) is a joy of a novel, but its characters have no weight that is not derived from their downright lazy lifestyle. Even the sinister characters are more ridiculous than ominous. This was to change, however, when the freedom bought by popular success allowed him to begin to depict the real and miserable underside of the metropolis: the criminals, vagabonds and dispossessed, while never losing sight of the rotten core of the rich. Mrs. Jellyby in Bleak House (1852-3) is, for instance, an example of the danger of snobbish idiocy, ignoring and neglecting her family while selfishly making a name for herself rushing around supporting philanthropic enterprises in far away lands. Miss Havisham in Great Expectations (1860-1) is similarly disturbing with her bitter enmity for all men due to a single man’s cruelty to her.

While Dickens was essentially a populist with a conscience, George Eliot seemed to care not a jot about entertaining her reader. Rather she presented a world of dire occurrences in rural backwaters and littered her novels with uniquely didactic authorial interjections. Thus, in her first novel, Adam Bede (1859), Hetty Sorrell falls pregnant to Arthur Donnithorne before betrothal to Adam, is convicted of infanticide, is imprisoned and is preached at by a Methodist. This is typical of the Eliot humour, as is The Mill on the Floss (1860) where the heroine’s family falls apart through death and bad luck - everybody of consequence dying horribly or turning out to be wretched and dislikeable. Critically acclaimed, often brilliant but equally often sanctimonious or wholly absurd (see the entire Jewish plot of Daniel Deronda (1876)), Eliot is at her best when bearing polite witness to misery.


  • The Later Nineteenth Century

In America, the transition from James Fenimore Cooper’s straight-laced adventure The Last of the Mohicans (1826) to Mark Twain’s seminal The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (1884), with its satire and social conscience, showed the irreversible movement away from idealistic and naïve fictions that would culminate in the 20th century writings of the Beats such as Jack Kerouac and William Burroughs. In mid-19th century Russia, Dostoyevsky and Tolstoy concurrently investigated the possibility of presenting a life entirely without hope and leading inevitably to suicide and spells in prison. Here, though, the sheer scale of the novels and their vision of an entire society put them in a separate – if not necessarily superior – league to George Eliot.

In the latter half of the 19th century the novel became ubiquitous. From around 1810, public lending libraries had opened up literature to the masses (very controversially at the time) and, with the serializations of Dickens and other authors in popular journals, novels became the popular entertainment of choice. This not only goes to explain the didacticism of George Eliot but also the outright populism of works such as Blackmore’s wonderfully romantic and – unusually for the 19th century – optimistic novel Lorna Doone (1869). Further, it explains the rise of the mystery novel as founded by Wilkie Collins in the 1860s. The Moonstone (1868) and The Woman in White (1860) were exciting tales of devious goings on, mysterious Indians prowling the grounds of mansions, and strange doppelgangers that enthralled and perplexed. Agatha Christie, Ngaio Marsh, Arthur Conan Doyle and the rest would carry this baton into the next century. Scotsman Robert Louis Stevenson’s Treasure Island (1883), Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde (1886) and Kidnapped (1886) were in the same vein as Collins’s novels and were similarly appealing to adults and children alike with their swashbuckling adventures. Around the same time, H. Rider Haggard’s many novels such as King Solomon’s Mines (1886) and She (1887) explored distant lands, again with great popular success.


  • Modernism

Joyce, Woolf and Lawrence

With the emergence of Modernism in the 1910s and 1920s came an entirely new way of writing novels. The so-called ‘stream of consciousness’ style innovated by James Joyce in Ulysses (1922) and Virginia Woolf in Mrs Dalloway (1925) imagined characters as living beings whose entire thought-processes might be explored on the page via linguistic invention and unconventional style (Molly Bloom’s soliloquy in the last chapter of Ulysses is one long sentence and follows an internal logic representing the thought process in progress). Both Joyce and Woolf’s masterpieces follow their main characters through a single day. This would have been quite impossible in the traditional novel because character and event tended previously to pan out over months or even years. They established a literary version of 20th century individualism (later taken to extremes by Kerouac and other solipsists). The logical extension of the Sternean shaggy dog tale, these Modernist novels – like Tristram Shandy earlier – were playful, inventive and serious at the same time. They were also controversial, but Ulysses is high in many ‘favourite book’ lists to this day (perhaps not least because it is such a challenging work and therefore seems to bestow a certain academic prestige upon its readers). By this time the novel, and fiction in general, seemed to have inverted and was looking in on itself via random characters on the outside. Highly academic writers in fiction (as in poetry – see Ezra Pound and T S Eliot) took the novel back from the masses and "into the classroom" again as William Carlos Williams explained. Rarely passionate (Molly Bloom aside), not genuinely tragic or particularly funny in any traditional sense, and never deigning to focus on anything actually happening, these novels revel in the sheer ordinariness of their subject matter and the newness of the way they are explaining it.

If we say that fiction was written initially to stimulate the mind, to entertain, to consider possibilities, and /or to educate then Modernist writing can be seen as a freak occurrence. It does none of these things directly and all of them extremely indirectly (or not at all as some would have it). Their appeal cannot be explained easily, but they were extremely influential. The importance of the tiny details in life was what they dragged up, and the novels of D H Lawrence, especially Sons and Lovers (1913), were very much of this school. They investigated the minutiae of life, the irrelevancies that become the most important parts of life: in many ways they can be claimed to be the origin of the fly-on-the-wall documentaries so popular on television. Like Joyce’s beautiful and influential short stories, Dubliners (1914), Lawrence’s work is poignant but exceptionally unhappy. They were, in Lawrence’s case, though, unusual for being set in the unfashionable North of England and with working class characters: for once the novel was actually displaying novelty.


  • Dystopian Fiction

Orwell, Huxley and Golding

As the twentieth century wore on, torn apart by war, new technologies advancing at an unprecedented rate, greed, selfishness and the emergence of sinister theories such as that of eugenics that were not limited to Germany by any means (‘kill all stupid and imperfect people’ was the effective plan), new writers emerged who spurned the concept of the novelist as artist. Backlash followed backlash and new media accelerated movements from decades to five or ten years. The novel was by the 1940s well accepted as a literary form as worthy as any other and as such artistry in the process of writing began to be taken for granted. Rhetoric was shunned (especially and brilliantly by Orwell) and the novel with a precise social message or purpose emerged (see Huxley’s Brave New World (1932) and Orwell’s Nineteen Eight-four (1949)).

As well as the dystopian novelists, we find in this category many writers not reveling in the joys of life or the status quo but endeavouring to undermine cosy middle-class assumptions and general human arrogance. Foremost among these was William Golding, whose Lord of the Flies (1954) is considered to be one of the very finest novels of the century and also one of the most pessimistic with its implication that human evil is innate and not learnt. In The Inheritors (1955) and later novels, Golding continued to debunk various theories about man’s superiority and greatness: viewing his enterprises as pointless and his beliefs as almost always vain and worthless. Since the Second World War there has been an explosion in the number of people writing novels in England, America and elsewhere, seemingly undiminished by the popularity of the cinema and television. It is claimed that there are now almost as many people writing novels as there are people buying and reading them. For this reason it is near impossible to trace significant movements or even single novelists in the second half of the 20th century. That will be left to readers in centuries to come to sort out.

Author: I. Abbasi A.
•1:13 PM
Oscar Wild is a well known writer and poet throughout the world, especially for his masterpiece The Picture of Dorian Gray. It's one of the best books I've ever read, wishing I'd read this book earlier before. It's absolutely a worth reading work and the language of course is easy to read. I present you with the preface of the book, a thorough analysis and the book to download.


Preface

The artist is the creator of beautiful things.

To reveal art and conceal the artist is art's aim.

The critic is he who can translate into another manner or a new material his impression of beautiful things.

The highest as the lowest form of criticism is a mode of autobiography. Those who find ugly meanings in beautiful things are corrupt without being charming.

This is a fault.

Those who find beautiful meanings in beautiful things are the cultivated. For these there is hope.

They are the elect to whom beautiful things mean only beauty.

There is no such thing as a moral or an immoral book. Books are well written, or badly written.

That is all.

The nineteenth century dislike of realism is the rage of Caliban seeing his own face in a glass.

The nineteenth century dislike of romanticism is the rage of Caliban not seeing his own face in a glass.

The moral life of man forms part of the subject-matter of the artist, but the morality of art consists in the perfect use of an imperfect medium. No artist desires to prove anything. Even things that are true can be proved.

No artist has ethical sympathies.

An ethical sympathy in an artist is an unpardonable mannerism of style. No artist is ever morbid. The artist can express everything.

Thought and language are to the artist instruments of an art.

Vice and virtue are to the artist materials for an art.

From the point of view of form, the type of all the arts is the art of the musician.

From the point of view of feeling, the actor's craft is the type.

All art is at once surface and symbol.

Those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril.

Those who read the symbol do so at their peril.

It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors.

Diversity of opinion about a work of art shows that the work is new, complex, and vital.

When critics disagree, the artist is in accord with himself.

We can forgive a man for making a useful thing as long as he does not admire it. The only excuse for making a useless thing is that one admires it intensely.

All art is quite useless.

OSCAR WILDE


Plot Overview

In the stately London home of his aunt, Lady Brandon, the well-known artist Basil Hallward meets Dorian Gray. Dorian is a cultured, wealthy, and impossibly beautiful young man who immediately captures Basil's artistic imagination. Dorian sits for several portraits, and Basil often depicts him as an ancient Greek hero or a mythological figure. When the novel opens, the artist is completing his first portrait of Dorian as he truly is, but, as he admits to his friend Lord Henry Wotton, the painting disappoints him because it reveals too much of his feeling for his subject. Lord Henry, a famous wit who enjoys scandalizing his friends by celebrating youth, beauty, and the selfish pursuit of pleasure, disagrees, claiming that the portrait is Basil's masterpiece. Dorian arrives at the studio, and Basil reluctantly introduces him to Lord Henry, who he fears will have a damaging influence on the impressionable, young Dorian.

Basil's fears are well founded; before the end of their first conversation, Lord Henry upsets Dorian with a speech about the transient nature of beauty and youth. Worried that these, his most impressive characteristics, are fading day by day, Dorian curses his portrait, which he believes will one day remind him of the beauty he will have lost. In a fit of distress, he pledges his soul if only the painting could bear the burden of age and infamy, allowing him to stay forever young. In an attempt to appease Dorian, Basil gives him the portrait.

Over the next few weeks, Lord Henry's influence over Dorian grows stronger. The youth becomes a disciple of the “new Hedonism” and proposes to live a life dedicated to the pursuit of pleasure. He falls in love with Sibyl Vane, a young actress who performs in a theater in London's slums. He adores her acting; she, in turn, refers to him as “Prince Charming” and refuses to heed the warnings of her brother, James Vane, that Dorian is no good for her. Overcome by her emotions for Dorian, Sibyl decides that she can no longer act, wondering how she can pretend to love on the stage now that she has experienced the real thing. Dorian, who loves Sibyl because of her ability to act, cruelly breaks his engagement with her. After doing so, he returns home to notice that his face in Basil's portrait of him has changed: it now sneers. Frightened that his wish for his likeness in the painting to bear the ill effects of his behavior has come true and that his sins will be recorded on the canvas, he resolves to make amends with Sibyl the next day. The following afternoon, however, Lord Henry brings news that Sibyl has killed herself. At Lord Henry's urging, Dorian decides to consider her death a sort of artistic triumph—she personified tragedy—and to put the matter behind him. Meanwhile, Dorian hides his portrait in a remote upper room of his house, where no one other than he can watch its transformation.

Lord Henry gives Dorian a book that describes the wicked exploits of a nineteenth-century Frenchman; it becomes Dorian's bible as he sinks ever deeper into a life of sin and corruption. He lives a life devoted to garnering new experiences and sensations with no regard for conventional standards of morality or the consequences of his actions. Eighteen years pass. Dorian's reputation suffers in circles of polite London society, where rumors spread regarding his scandalous exploits. His peers nevertheless continue to accept him because he remains young and beautiful. The figure in the painting, however, grows increasingly wizened and hideous. On a dark, foggy night, Basil Hallward arrives at Dorian's home to confront him about the rumors that plague his reputation. The two argue, and Dorian eventually offers Basil a look at his (Dorian's) soul. He shows Basil the now-hideous portrait, and Hallward, horrified, begs him to repent. Dorian claims it is too late for penance and kills Basil in a fit of rage.

In order to dispose of the body, Dorian employs the help of an estranged friend, a doctor, whom he blackmails. The night after the murder, Dorian makes his way to an opium den, where he encounters James Vane, who attempts to avenge Sibyl's death. Dorian escapes to his country estate. While entertaining guests, he notices James Vane peering in through a window, and he becomes wracked by fear and guilt. When a hunting party accidentally shoots and kills Vane, Dorian feels safe again. He resolves to amend his life but cannot muster the courage to confess his crimes, and the painting now reveals his supposed desire to repent for what it is—hypocrisy. In a fury, Dorian picks up the knife he used to stab Basil Hallward and attempts to destroy the painting. There is a crash, and his servants enter to find the portrait, unharmed, showing Dorian Gray as a beautiful young man. On the floor lies the body of their master—an old man, horribly wrinkled and disfigured, with a knife plunged into his heart.


Analysis of Major Characters

Dorian Gray

At the opening of the novel, Dorian Gray exists as something of an ideal: he is the archetype of male youth and beauty. As such, he captures the imagination of Basil Hallward, a painter, and Lord Henry Wotton, a nobleman who imagines fashioning the impressionable Dorian into an unremitting pleasure-seeker. Dorian is exceptionally vain and becomes convinced, in the course of a brief conversation with Lord Henry, that his most salient characteristics—his youth and physical attractiveness—are ever waning. The thought of waking one day without these attributes sends Dorian into a tailspin: he curses his fate and pledges his soul if only he could live without bearing the physical burdens of aging and sinning. He longs to be as youthful and lovely as the masterpiece that Basil has painted of him, and he wishes that the portrait could age in his stead. His vulnerability and insecurity in these moments make him excellent clay for Lord Henry's willing hands.

Dorian soon leaves Basil's studio for Lord Henry's parlor, where he adopts the tenets of “the new Hedonism” and resolves to live his life as a pleasure-seeker with no regard for conventional morality. His relationship with Sibyl Vane tests his commitment to this philosophy: his love of the young actress nearly leads him to dispense with Lord Henry's teachings, but his love proves to be as shallow as he is. When he breaks Sibyl's heart and drives her to suicide, Dorian notices the first change in his portrait—evidence that his portrait is showing the effects of age and experience while his body remains ever youthful. Dorian experiences a moment of crisis, as he weighs his guilt about his treatment of Sibyl against the freedom from worry that Lord Henry's philosophy has promised. When Dorian decides to view Sibyl's death as the achievement of an artistic ideal rather than a needless tragedy for which he is responsible, he starts down the steep and slippery slope of his own demise.

As Dorian's sins grow worse over the years, his likeness in Basil's portrait grows more hideous. Dorian seems to lack a conscience, but the desire to repent that he eventually feels illustrates that he is indeed human. Despite the beautiful things with which he surrounds himself, he is unable to distract himself from the dissipation of his soul. His murder of Basil marks the beginning of his end: although in the past he has been able to sweep infamies from his mind, he cannot shake the thought that he has killed his friend. Dorian's guilt tortures him relentlessly until he is forced to do away with his portrait. In the end, Dorian seems punished by his ability to be influenced: if the new social order celebrates individualism, as Lord Henry claims, Dorian falters because he fails to establish and live by his own moral code.


Lord Henry Wotton

Lord Henry is a man possessed of “wrong, fascinating, poisonous, delightful theories.” He is a charming talker, a famous wit, and a brilliant intellect. Given the seductive way in which he leads conversation, it is little wonder that Dorian falls under his spell so completely. Lord Henry's theories are radical; they aim to shock and purposefully attempt to topple established, untested, or conventional notions of truth. In the end, however, they prove naïve, and Lord Henry himself fails to realize the implications of most of what he says.

Lord Henry is a relatively static character—he does not undergo a significant change in the course of the narrative. He is as coolly composed, unshakable, and possessed of the same dry wit in the final pages of the novel as he is upon his introduction. Because he does not change while Dorian and Basil clearly do, his philosophy seems amusing and enticing in the first half of the book, but improbable and shallow in the second. Lord Henry muses in Chapter Nineteen, for instance, that there are no immoral books; he claims that “[t]he books that the world calls immoral are books that show the world its own shame.” But since the decadent book that Lord Henry lends Dorian facilitates Dorian's downfall, it is difficult to accept what Lord Henry says as true.

Although Lord Henry is a self-proclaimed hedonist who advocates the equal pursuit of both moral and immoral experience, he lives a rather staid life. He participates in polite London society and attends parties and the theater, but he does not indulge in sordid behavior. Unlike Dorian, he does not lead innocent youths to suicide or travel incognito to the city's most despised and desperate quarters. Lord Henry thus has little notion of the practical effects of his philosophy. His claim that Dorian could never commit a murder because “[c]rime belongs exclusively to the lower orders” demonstrates the limitations of his understanding of the human soul. It is not surprising, then, that he fails to appreciate the profound meaning of Dorian's downfall.


Basil Hallward

Basil Hallward is a talented, though somewhat conventionally minded, painter. His love for Dorian Gray, which seems to reflect Oscar Wilde's own affection for his young lover, Lord Alfred Douglas, changes the way he sees art; indeed, it defines a new school of expression for him. Basil's portrait of Dorian marks a new phase of his career. Before he created this masterwork, he spent his time painting Dorian in the veils of antiquity—dressed as an ancient soldier or as various romantic figures from mythology. Once he has painted Dorian as he truly is, however, he fears that he has put too much of himself into the work. He worries that his love, which he himself describes as “idolatry,” is too apparent, and that it betrays too much of himself. Though he later changes his mind to believe that art is always more abstract than one thinks and that the painting thus betrays nothing except form and color, his emotional investment in Dorian remains constant. He seeks to protect Dorian, voicing his objection to Lord Henry's injurious influence over Dorian and defending Dorian even after their relationship has clearly dissolved. Basil's commitment to Dorian, which ultimately proves fatal, reveals the genuineness of his love for his favorite subject and his concern for the safety and salvation of Dorian's soul.


Themes, Motifs & Symbols

Themes

Themes are the fundamental and often universal ideas explored in a literary work.
The Purpose of Art

When The Picture of Dorian Gray was first published in Lippincott's Monthly Magazine in 1890, it was decried as immoral. In revising the text the following year, Wilde included a preface, which serves as a useful explanation of his philosophy of art. The purpose of art, according to this series of epigrams, is to have no purpose. In order to understand this claim fully, one needs to consider the moral climate of Wilde's time and the Victorian sensibility regarding art and morality. The Victorians believed that art could be used as a tool for social education and moral enlightenment, as illustrated in works by writers such as Charles Dickens and George Gissing. The aestheticism movement, of which Wilde was a major proponent, sought to free art from this responsibility. The aestheticists were motivated as much by a contempt for bourgeois morality—a sensibility embodied in Dorian Gray by Lord Henry, whose every word seems designed to shock the ethical certainties of the burgeoning middle class—as they were by the belief that art need not possess any other purpose than being beautiful.

If this philosophy informed Wilde's life, we must then consider whether his only novel bears it out. The two works of art that dominate the novel—Basil's painting and the mysterious yellow book that Lord Henry gives Dorian—are presented in the vein more of Victorian sensibilities than of aesthetic ones. That is, both the portrait and the French novel serve a purpose: the first acts as a type of mysterious mirror that shows Dorian the physical dissipation his own body has been spared, while the second acts as something of a road map, leading the young man farther along the path toward infamy. While we know nothing of the circumstances of the yellow book's composition, Basil's state of mind while painting Dorian's portrait is clear. Later in the novel, he advocates that all art be “unconscious, ideal, and remote.” His portrait of Dorian, however, is anything but. Thus, Basil's initial refusal to exhibit the work results from his belief that it betrays his idolization of his subject. Of course, one might consider that these breaches of aesthetic philosophy mold The Picture of Dorian Gray into something of a cautionary tale: these are the prices that must be paid for insisting that art reveals the artist or a moral lesson. But this warning is, in itself, a moral lesson, which perhaps betrays the impossibility of Wilde's project. If, as Dorian observes late in the novel, the imagination orders the chaos of life and invests it with meaning, then art, as the fruit of the imagination, cannot help but mean something. Wilde may have succeeded in freeing his art from the confines of Victorian morality, but he has replaced it with a doctrine that is, in its own way, just as restrictive.

The Supremacy of Youth and Beauty

The first principle of aestheticism, the philosophy of art by which Oscar Wilde lived, is that art serves no other purpose than to offer beauty. Throughout The Picture of Dorian Gray, beauty reigns. It is a means to revitalize the wearied senses, as indicated by the effect that Basil's painting has on the cynical Lord Henry. It is also a means of escaping the brutalities of the world: Dorian distances himself, not to mention his consciousness, from the horrors of his actions by devoting himself to the study of beautiful things—music, jewels, rare tapestries. In a society that prizes beauty so highly, youth and physical attractiveness become valuable commodities. Lord Henry reminds Dorian of as much upon their first meeting, when he laments that Dorian will soon enough lose his most precious attributes. In Chapter Seventeen, the Duchess of Monmouth suggests to Lord Henry that he places too much value on these things; indeed, Dorian's eventual demise confirms her suspicions. For although beauty and youth remain of utmost importance at the end of the novel—the portrait is, after all, returned to its original form—the novel suggests that the price one must pay for them is exceedingly high. Indeed, Dorian gives nothing less than his soul.

The Superficial Nature of Society

It is no surprise that a society that prizes beauty above all else is a society founded on a love of surfaces. What matters most to Dorian, Lord Henry, and the polite company they keep is not whether a man is good at heart but rather whether he is handsome. As Dorian evolves into the realization of a type, the perfect blend of scholar and socialite, he experiences the freedom to abandon his morals without censure. Indeed, even though, as Basil warns, society's elite question his name and reputation, Dorian is never ostracized. On the contrary, despite his “mode of life,” he remains at the heart of the London social scene because of the “innocence” and “purity of his face.” As Lady Narborough notes to Dorian, there is little (if any) distinction between ethics and appearance: “you are made to be good—you look so good.”

The Negative Consequences of Influence

The painting and the yellow book have a profound effect on Dorian, influencing him to predominantly immoral behavior over the course of nearly two decades. Reflecting on Dorian's power over Basil and deciding that he would like to seduce Dorian in much the same way, Lord Henry points out that there is “something terribly enthralling in the exercise of influence.” Falling under the sway of such influence is, perhaps, unavoidable, but the novel ultimately censures the sacrifice of one's self to another. Basil's idolatry of Dorian leads to his murder, and Dorian's devotion to Lord Henry's hedonism and the yellow book precipitate his own downfall. It is little wonder, in a novel that prizes individualism—the uncompromised expression of self—that the sacrifice of one's self, whether it be to another person or to a work of art, leads to one's destruction.

Motifs

Motifs are recurring structures, contrasts, or literary devices that can help to develop and inform the text's major themes.
The Picture of Dorian Gray

The picture of Dorian Gray, “the most magical of mirrors,” shows Dorian the physical burdens of age and sin from which he has been spared. For a time, Dorian sets his conscience aside and lives his life according to a single goal: achieving pleasure. His painted image, however, asserts itself as his conscience and hounds him with the knowledge of his crimes: there he sees the cruelty he showed to Sibyl Vane and the blood he spilled killing Basil Hallward.

Homoerotic Male Relationships

The homoerotic bonds between men play a large role in structuring the novel. Basil's painting depends upon his adoration of Dorian's beauty; similarly, Lord Henry is overcome with the desire to seduce Dorian and mold him into the realization of a type. This camaraderie between men fits into Wilde's larger aesthetic values, for it returns him to antiquity, where an appreciation of youth and beauty was not only fundamental to culture but was also expressed as a physical relationship between men. As a homosexual living in an intolerant society, Wilde asserted this philosophy partially in an attempt to justify his own lifestyle. For Wilde, homosexuality was not a sordid vice but rather a sign of refined culture. As he claimed rather romantically during his trial for “gross indecency” between men, the affection between an older and younger man places one in the tradition of Plato, Michelangelo, and Shakespeare.

The Color White

Interestingly, Dorian's trajectory from figure of innocence to figure of degradation can be charted by Wilde's use of the color white. White usually connotes innocence and blankness, as it does when Dorian is first introduced. It is, in fact, “the white purity” of Dorian's boyhood that Lord Henry finds so captivating. Basil invokes whiteness when he learns that Dorian has sacrificed his innocence, and, as the artist stares in horror at the ruined portrait, he quotes a biblical verse from the Book of Isaiah: “Though your sins be as scarlet, yet I will make them as white as snow.” But the days of Dorian's innocence are over. It is a quality he now eschews, and, tellingly, when he orders flowers, he demands “as few white ones as possible.” When the color appears again, in the form of James Vane's face—“like a white handkerchief”—peering in through a window, it has been transformed from the color of innocence to the color of death. It is this threatening pall that makes Dorian long, at the novel's end, for his “rose-white boyhood,” but the hope is in vain, and he proves unable to wash away the stains of his sins.

Symbols

Symbols are objects, characters, figures, or colors used to represent abstract ideas or concepts.
The Opium Dens

The opium dens, located in a remote and derelict section of London, represent the sordid state of Dorian's mind. He flees to them at a crucial moment. After killing Basil, Dorian seeks to forget the awfulness of his crimes by losing consciousness in a drug-induced stupor. Although he has a canister of opium in his home, he leaves the safety of his neat and proper parlor to travel to the dark dens that reflect the degradation of his soul.

James Vane

James Vane is less a believable character than an embodiment of Dorian's tortured conscience. As Sibyl's brother, he is a rather flat caricature of the avenging relative. Still, Wilde saw him as essential to the story, adding his character during his revision of 1891. Appearing at the dock and later at Dorian's country estate, James has an almost spectral quality. Like the ghost of Jacob Marley in Charles Dickens's A Christmas Carol, who warns Scrooge of the sins he will have to face, James appears with his face “like a white handkerchief” to goad Dorian into accepting responsibility for the crimes he has committed.

The Yellow Book

Lord Henry gives Dorian a copy of the yellow book as a gift. Although he never gives the title, Wilde describes the book as a French novel that charts the outrageous experiences of its pleasure-seeking protagonist (we can fairly assume that the book in question is Joris-Karl Huysman's decadent nineteenth-century novel Rebours, translated as “Against the Grain” or “Against Nature”). The book becomes like holy scripture to Dorian, who buys nearly a dozen copies and bases his life and actions on it. The book represents the profound and damaging influence that art can have over an individual and serves as a warning to those who would surrender themselves so completely to such an influence.

Download the Picture of Dorian Gray
Author: I. Abbasi A.
•9:45 AM
Have you recently read a worth reading novel? Here I'm going to make it happen for you! Judy Blume is one of the best-seller writers of America and her novels mainly concerns social problems of children and youths like menstruation or divorce. The novel Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret, is about eleven-going-on-twelve Margaret who has problems with her period and tries to find God through different religions. The novel was always in the list of books which were discussed to be banished in America.
I strongly recommend this book to bookworms and anyone who has not read a proper novel these days.
Author: I. Abbasi A.
•12:14 PM

As I presented you the list of "5o Great Short Stories", now I'm going to present the list of "50 Great Novels of All Time". Browsing among 5 different surveys about the best novels, I decided to pick the most famous and of course the richest in literature of all and enlisted them for you. Later on we will read and discouse these novels here. I assure you that these novels are UNPUTDOWNABLE. Here's the list:

  1. Don Quixote Miguel De Cervantes
  2. Madame Bovary Gustave Flaubert
  3. One Hundred Years Of Solitude Gabriel Garcia Marquez
  4. Robinson Crusoe Daniel Defoe
  5. Gulliver’s Travels Jonathan Swift
  6. Emma Jane Austen
  7. Huckleberry Finn Mark Twain
  8. The Scarlet Letter Nathaniel Hawthorne
  9. Frankenstein Mary Shelley
  10. To Kill A Mockingbird Harper Lee
  11. Wuthering Heights Emily Bronte
  12. Jane Eyre Charlotte Bronte
  13. Little Women Louisa M. Alcott
  14. The Count Of Monte Cristo Alexandre Dumas
  15. David Copperfield Charles Dickens
  16. Dr Jekyll And Mr Hyde Robert Louis Stevenson
  17. Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland Lewis Carroll
  18. Moby-Dick Herman Melville
  19. Anna Karenina Leo Tolstoy
  20. Daniel Deronda George Eliot
  21. The Brothers Karamazov Fyodor Dostoevsky
  22. Men Without Women Ernest Hemingway
  23. Nineteen Eighty-Four George Orwell
  24. The Grapes Of Wrath John Steinbeck
  25. Animal Farm George Orwell
  26. The Portrait Of A Lady Henry James
  27. The Picture Of Dorian Gray Oscar Wilde
  28. Jude The Obscure Thomas Hardy
  29. The Call Of The Wild Jack London
  30. Nostromo Joseph Conrad
  31. Ulysses James Joyce
  32. Mrs Dalloway Virginia Woolf
  33. The Great Gatsby F. Scott Fitzgerald
  34. The Sun Also Rises Ernest Hemingway
  35. The Trial Franz Kafka
  36. As I Lay Dying William Faulkner
  37. Heart Of Darkness Joseph Conrad
  38. A Farewell To Arms Ernest Hemingway
  39. Lolita Vladimir Nabokov
  40. Atonement Ian Mcewan
  41. Things Fall Apart Chinua Achebe
  42. Sons And Lovers D.H. Lawrence
  43. To The Lighthouse Virginia Woolf
  44. Gone With The Wind Margaret Mitchell
  45. All The King's Men Robert Penn Warren
  46. Lord Of The Flies William Golding
  47. Women In Love D.H. Lawrence
  48. The Death Of The Heart Elizabeth Bowen
  49. The Lord Of The Rings J. R. R. Tolkien
  50. The Bfg Roald Dahl