The Picture of Dorian Gray - Oscar Wilde

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Sunt unele carti ce te marcheaza dezvaluindu-ti o lume noua, fantastica sau rupta din viata. Iti deschid ochii mintii sa poti vedea noi orizonturi. Si...ca un om orb ce vede pentru intaia oara soarele, devii prada luminii. Fugi de intuneric cautand stralucirea. Fugi de timp cautand nemurirea.

Romanul lui Oscar Wilde-Portretul lui Dorian Gray, pe care am avut dorinta si placerea de a-l citi in limba materna a autorului, dezvaluie cititorului drama omului pentru care tineretea si frumusetea devin singurele lucruri importante in viata.

"And beauty is a form of genius—
is higher, indeed, than genius, as it needs no explanation.
It is of the great facts of the world, like sunlight, or spring-time, or
the reflection in dark waters of that silver shell we call the moon. It
cannot be questioned. It has its divine right of sovereignty. It makes
princes of those who have it. People say sometimes that beauty is only
superficial.That may be so, but at least it is not so superficial as thought is.
It is only shallow people who do not judge by appearances.
The true mystery of the world is the visible, not the invisible. . ."

Odata cu crearea portretului, Dorian Gray imbratiseaza efectele frumusetii nealterate si a pacatului. Isi vinde sufletul in schimbul tineretii.

"How sad it is! I shall grow old, and horrible,
and dreadful. But this picture will remain always young. It
will never be older than this particular day of June...If it were
only the other way! If it were I who was to be always young, and the
picture that was to grow old! For that—for that—I would give everything!
Yes, there is nothing in the whole world I would not give!
I would give my soul for that!"

Cunoaste iubirea pentru o tanara actrita fascinanta ce joaca in rolurile personajelor lui Shakespeare.
“Sibyl Vane represented... all the heroines
of romance—that she was Desdemona one night, and Ophelia
the other; that if she died as Juliet, she came to life as Imogen.”

Insa aceasta pasiune sfarseste in moarte. Fata se sinucide chiar in noaptea cand isi sacrifica cariera, demnitatea in fata lui Dorian. Acesta realizeaza ca nu a mai ramas nimic in ea din persoana pe care o iubiea si o paraseste imediat dupa marturisirea lui Sibyl Vane:

“Dorian, Dorian,” she cried, “before I knew you, acting was the
one reality of my life. It was only in the theatre that I lived. I thought
that it was all true. I was Rosalind one night and Portia the other.
The joy of Beatrice was my joy, and the sorrows of Cordelia were
mine also. I believed in everything. The common people who acted
with me seemed to me to be godlike. The painted scenes were my
world. I knew nothing but shadows, and I thought them real.
To-night, for the first time in my life, I saw through the hollowness,
the sham, the silliness of the empty pageant in which I had always played.
To-night, for the first time, I became conscious that the Romeo was hideous,
and old, and painted, that the moonlight in the orchard was false, that the
scenery was vulgar, and that the words I had to speak were unreal,
were not my words, were not what I wanted to say. You had brought
me something higher, something of which all art is but a reflection.
You had made me understand what love really is."

Dorian ii refuza sacrificiul, raspunzand la declaratia de iubire cu revolta si dispret.

"Without your art, you are nothing.
I would have made you famous, splendid, magnificent. The
world would have worshipped you, and you would have borne my
name. What are you now? A third-rate actress with a pretty face."

A doua zi resimte vinovatie si decide sa se intoarca la Sibyl, dar e prea tarziu.

Somehow, now that it has
happened actually, and to me, it seems far too wonderful for tears.
Here is the first passionate love-letter I have ever written in my life.
Strange, that my first passionate love-letter should have been addressed
to a dead girl. Can they feel, I wonder, those white silent
people we call the dead? Sibyl! Can she feel, or know, or listen? Oh, how I loved her once! It seems years ago to me now. She was everything to me.
Then came that dreadful night—was it really only last night?—
when she played so badly, and my heart almostbroke.
She explained it all to me. It was terribly pathetic. But I was
not moved a bit. I thought her shallow.

Odata cu acest act, portretul sufera prima schimbare: devine imaginea constiintei lui Dorian.

"He felt that the time had really come for making his choice. Or had
his choice already been made? Yes, life had decided that for him—
life, and his own infinite curiosity about life. Eternal youth, infinite
passion, pleasures subtle and secret, wild joys and wilder sins—he
was to have all these things. The portrait was to bear the burden of his
shame: that was all."

Se altereaza cu fiecare fapta si gand rau, pe cand infatisarea lui Dorian ramane la fel de tanara si fascinanta. Traieste pentru placere, in placere.

"Live! Live the wonderful life that is in you! Let nothing be
lost upon you. Be always searching for new sensations. Be afraid of
nothing. . . . A new Hedonism—that is what our century wants.
You might be its visible symbol. With your personality there is nothing
you could not do. The world belongs to you for a season..."

Spre finalul cartii, Dorian isi accepta conditia de muritor. Incearca realizarea primei fapte bune, dar esueaza. Gandul ca sufletul sau nu are scapare si este definitiv corupt de egoism il impinge spre sinucidere.

"It would kill this monstrous soul-life, and without its hideous warnings, he
would be at peace."