was this a bit of a slog? yes. but the themes are so good that it makes up for it. don't let anyone convince you not to read this because it's slow paced - sometimes it's good to read and experience slower stories. this genuinely contains some very good and valuable life advice.

also was anybody else shocked by the amount of religious themes this had 😭

the plot twists were crazy and unexpected, and the ending was just… omg. 

great read 

4/5

Another book on the "1001 books you must read before you die" list. This one didn't feel as detached from its pop culture shadow as say Frankenstein did. The way it is presented, however, is, again, masterful and deliberate: a studious journey into self absorption and self adoration. 
I feel like a lot of the thoughts and conversations present in the book are very much relevant and current in our generation as well. Traces of some of Lord Henry's remarks can easily be distinguished in today's male population and most, if not all, of Dorian's drives and urges still fester in young teen boys and men as old as in their mid 20s.
There were parts of the novel that, for some reason that more literate people than myself will appreciate, completely lost me. The peak of that was chapter 11, which took me conscious effort and a few attempts to get through. I do not understand what the point was in being so very specific about what each new obsession was and where everything was sourced from, like the gems and the fabrics and the aromas and everything. My interest completely dipped and, honestly, I worried I might not even come back to finish the book. 
Similar disjointed passages appear in various parts of the book, but chapter 11 was in its entirety a task to complete. For that and other minor annoyances I'm marking this down to between 3.5-4 out of 5.

4/5

Wow. What an asshole. I'm glad I read this classic now rather than high school - I see what Wilde is doing in the grotesque descriptions of food, drink, and conversation. The twist here is part of the anglophone zeitgeist, but how we get there is not, and Wilde takes his sweet time in classic Wildeian plotlessness. You don't read about Gray's Jekyll & Hyde-esque philandering, but you sure sense its effects, and the damaging of "reputation" is as damning as Victorian England could get. Intensely homoerotic as to be expected, and I'm very glad I finally read it during a cold camping weekend over Thanksgiving.