Dorian Gray - no. 31 (sort of...)

Dorian - by Will Self

Price: Can't remember, but I've got it written down somewhere...

History: on my third day of university, me and a new companion went bookhunting in Hampstead and found a brilliant 2nd hand book store

Probably the most intriguing Dorian Gray in my collection, as it's not Oscar Wilde at all, but a modern retelling by Will Self. Don't let that put you off - it's a joy to read such a creative tribute, by a man who (wait for it) seems to know the book better than I do. And you can imagine, that's pretty damn well.

Spoilers abound below

Initially it wound me up by going so obviously for the shock value - drugs! AIDS! gay sex! But then I realised what he is trying to do - because the original was deeply shocking to the Victorians, despite being vague and as tame as the Teletubbies for a modern audience. And this is how far he has to go to provoke the same outrage in a modern audience (which is in itself shocking; "why go grubbing in muck heaps" indeed)

You see, Will Self understands this book intimately. All the lines, all the ideas. The way it's been put together. I think he knows it better than I do. Its certainly a special treat for me - it's like reading my favourite book for the first time again. All the suprises come to me anew, and all the things I loved are there for the first time also. And there are hundreds of injokes, artistic tributes to the original's endearing flaws. Basil's death is interrupted by the author deliberately switching to his point of view. Henry Wotton's house is always introduced by an enthusiastic riot of plants and trees, to mimic the seasonless feel of the original - OW just throws details together because they are pretty, not because they are biologically correct. At one point the characters even pick up on this in the narrative. Or when Dorian suggests Alan melt the body with chemicals, the reply is that that's ridiculous - they're going to bury it instead.

These things amuse me greatly - they're jokes, almost, between me and the author - who else would be paying that much attention?

At times, you feel he's trying to improve on the original - not in an insulting way, just one that's interesting. So, the classic blackmailing of Alan scene is removed, and then later reversed. Dorian is never seen from his own perspective - he's the pitiable hero of Wilde's book, but Mr Self never goes into what makes him tick - making his beauty more dangerous, and smile more evil. At least in the original you can see Dorian as innocent because that's the way he thinks of himself.
The best alteration is keeping the portrait hidden from everyone until Basil's death scene - it's rumoured what's going on before, but you get the full shock of it with him. OW had to keep his readers reading every week, and had to get to the point as quickly as possible; it's a luxury of an author whose audience is familiar with the changing portrait device, but a good one at that (they did a similar thing in the older Dorian movie, by having the whole thing in black and white and not showing it at all, until the final scene - where it appears in lurid colour). The key "I would change my soul" is even more casual than the original.

As for the AIDS, well it's a bit passe now, compared to the 80s when this was doubtless written - but it's hardly the first story to use what we'll call "the legend of Oscar Wilde" for it's own agenda. I suppose that's the idea of a timeless story, one which can be owned by every generation and find in it their own meaning. It the spectator, not the subject, that art truly mirrors. One of my favourite films, Velvet Goldmine, hypothesises that Oscar Wilde was an alien child from outer space and founder of the glam rock movement. Don't wince, it does make glorious sense in context.

I don't want to call Oscar Wilde's prose purple - lets try "lavish". Everything is lavishly beautiful and over the top - oh to live in the world he describes, where the colours are all crazily vivid and the smells intoxicating. Will Self takes this and turns it on is head - his book is lavishly grotesque. The cigarette butts and slime are talked up and rhapsodised on in the same way as Wilde's perfumes and jewels were, giving the whole book a heady stickiness, in the same way decadance clings to the pages of the original. It's little touches like that. He applies Wilde's style to a slavishly real world, instead of inventing one, and the effect is impressive.

All in all, a very special treat for any fan of the original. Even if it makes you hopping angry, it's certainly worth a read.