What kind of life would you lead if you could do anything without having to worry about what toll it would take on your health and life? The Picture of Dorian Grey explores the psychology of a young man who suddenly finds himself in this kind of situation—and shows how in the end, though he can mask the symptoms of his sins, he can’t escape the final consequences.
The book isn’t that long or that short—probably shorter than Jane Eyre, for instance.
The Picture of Dorian Grey is not a book I recommend; although the main gist of the book is a true one (that killing one’s conscience leads to crime and death), there are ambiguities remaining, and one of the character’s conversational wit verges on the diabolically clever. I certainly discourage it being read by anyone not 18+.
Read straight on for an explanation of my criticism or skip to the end for a brief conclusion!
The Plot [spoiler alert!]
The premise of The Picture of Dorian Grey is a painting that ages in the place of its subject, a young man named Dorian Grey. The painting ends up being a visible embodiment of Dorian’s conscience.
The story begins with the painter and his somewhat fanciful relationship with Dorian Grey. Dorian is young, “innocent,” and boyish—also good-looking—and he inspires Basil Hallward like nothing else can. Basil pours his heart into Dorian’s picture.
Basil tells this, somewhat against his will, to his friend Lord Henry Wotton. Lord Henry is a careless, indolent scoffer. He’ll sacrifice anything and anyone if he can get a witty quip out of it. Throughout the book, Lord Henry says the most terrible things in the cleverest possible way. He’s fascinating and tempting, and his charm is that, although he professes the most horrible opinions, in his own practice he’s a decent guy—except in so far as he constantly puts temptation in other people’s way.
Dorian Grey proves to be a most interesting person to Lord Henry, who begins to convince him that he should live life to the fullest—express himself, repress nothing. Basil warns Dorian against Lord Henry, but to no avail. Dorian is fascinated by Lord Henry, and is on fire to get all that he can out of life while the getting is good.
Dorian falls in love with an actress and plans to marry her. Lord Henry smiles cynically, but he and Basil go to see her act. But although she was a wonderful actress before, now that Dorian is in her life, she’s lost her ability to act. Unfortunately, that was what Dorian loved. Without her acting ability, she’s completely uninteresting to him, and he cruelly rejects her.
It’s when Dorian returns home that evening to bask in his picture that he first notices the extraordinary connection between him and it. The mouth has become cruel, and Dorian, shocked, hides the picture and resolves to go back to his actress and marry her. But his good resolution comes too late. She has committed suicide.
And then Dorian sees the vast potential of the portrait. If everything he does that ought to mar his own beauty instead mars the portrait, he can lead whatever life he likes, without fear of premature aging or anything of the kind. All he must do is keep the portrait a close secret.
Having thrown his conscience to the winds, Dorian goes on from bad to worse. He becomes thoroughly selfish and heartless, with no loyalties. But none of his despicable character appears on his face, which continues to look innocent. Strange rumors circle about him, but with his charming face and manners, people find them difficult to believe.
One day Basil Hallward comes to speak to Dorian, hoping he will deny the rumors. Instead, Dorian shows him the portrait. Basil, horrified, urges Dorian to seek forgiveness. In the back of his mind, Dorian has always considered the painting, and by extension Basil, as responsible for his sin and his self-destruction. In a moment of cold blooded vengeance, he murders Basil.
After that, Dorian’s actress’ brother comes back to haunt him. Dorian escapes once by pretending to be a much younger man, but he is thoroughly shaken by the threat to his life. The brother, however, dies, and Dorian breathes again. He feels safe—and why not put the finishing touch to his safety by destroying the picture that is forever reminding him of the hideousness of his soul? One dark night, he goes up to where he’s hidden the portrait, takes the knife he used to kill Basil, and stabs the portrait.
The next morning, his servants find an old, ugly man dead on the attic floor in front of a painting of their master in all his youthful glory. Only when they examine the dead man’s rings do they realize that it’s their master himself.
The plotline is more reflective than exciting—in general, it doesn’t talk about what evils Dorian is doing but what philosophical influence they’re having. I thought that Basil’s relationship with Dorian at the beginning was stretched to the edge of bizarre, and also, if I were going to destroy a picture I’d cut from the top down, not stab it in the heart—but of course, the exigencies of the story kind of required Dorian to stab the picture.
The plot does what it needs to do to provide a vehicle for the point, but as a plot it’s not particularly spectacular.
4/10
The Point
The Picture of Dorian Grey is impactful in a slightly terrifying way. It’s a tale of philosophical and psychological corruption. Lord Henry’s witticisms are horribly appealing, and have a tendency to sweep you as reader away just as they did Dorian.
The main theme of the book is a person’s relationship to their conscience. Conscience, to Lord Henry, is the polite word for cowardice. It keeps you from really embracing life. And why? Why repress your passions? Life is about experiences, and passion—even crime—is a way to experience more of life. “The body sins once, and has done with its sin, for action is a mode of purification. Nothing remains then but the recollection of a pleasure, or the luxury of a regret. The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it… Nothing can cure the soul but the senses, just as nothing can cure the senses but the soul.”
Lord Henry doesn’t live out his morals. He’s a paradoxical guy who is glibly insincere. To give you a specimen of his wit, “If one puts forward an idea to a true Englishman—always a rash thing to do—he never dreams of considering whether the idea is right or wrong. The only thing he considers of any importance is whether one believes it oneself. Now, the value of an idea has nothing whatsoever to do with the sincerity of the man who expresses it. Indeed, the probabilities are that the more insincere the man is, the more purely intellectual will the idea be, as in that case it will not be coloured by either his wants, his desires, or his prejudices.”
But Dorian—his conscience lives outside him. He can hide his sin in a way no one else can. He can live out Lord Henry’s theories—and he does.
He’s a thorough-going example of the man who has stifled his conscience completely. His relationship to his conscience goes through a cycle. First, he listens to it a bit. Then he hides it. Then he laughs at it, enjoying the fact that this portrait is paying for his villainies. Then he hates it. From there, it’s a short step to hating its maker—Basil—and killing him. Last of all, he tries to kill his conscience—the ultimate moral suicide. But the one who ends up dead is Dorian Grey. This is an impressive and accurate arc and The Picture of Dorian Grey paints it in a powerful way.
The story presents very little hope—just the smallest smattering of it in Basil’s reaction to seeing Dorian’s portrait—but it certainly paints a drastically vivid picture of the utter ruin that a life of abandonment to sin and sinful passions leads to. On the other hand, there’s a little bit of ambiguity; Lord Henry is in some senses the villain of the piece, but his native indolence and carelessness keeps him from living out and paying for his worst ideas. Still, Lord Henry doesn’t lead a happy life.
Lord Henry’s ideas are so twistedly clever, that if you choose to read the book, I recommend keeping in mind that everything he says is at best a half-truth.
5/10
The Style
Oscar Wilde’s style in The Picture of Dorian Grey is clear and readable, though some of the psychological analysis goes a little slow. Lord Henry’s dialogues are full of an impressively sustained cleverness, always with a cynical and sometimes even diabolical slant. It’s a well-written book.
8/10
Conclusion
6/10
While The Picture of Dorian Grey is well written and thought provoking, there’s so little solution to the problem of what to do with sin and so much ambiguity in whether or not it’s safe (or even really possible) to be like Lord Henry—theoretically a villain, but practically a witty, easygoing guy—that I can’t recommend the book to anyone. However, its analysis of the consequences of rejecting conscience is profound and powerful—so I’m not going the length of saying absolutely don’t read it.
The original version of The Picture of Dorian Grey, had, I’ve heard, some even more objectionable points, but Oscar Wilde toned them down for publication.
You can find The Picture of Dorian Grey for free as an ebook on Project Gutenberg: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/174
You might also enjoy these other book reviews I’ve written:
Geneva D 
What do you think?