جورج برنارد شو حياته بقلمه

by George Bernard Shaw, جورج برنارد شو, وجدي الفيشاوي (مترجم)

Purchase one of 1st World Library's Classic Books and help support our free internet library of downloadable eBooks. 1st World Library-Literary Society is a non-profit educational organization. Visit us online at www.1stWorldLibrary.ORG - I was advised on all hands not to write this book, and some English friends who have read it urge me not to publish it. "You will be accused of selecting the subject," they say, "because sexual viciousness appeals to you, and your method of treatment lays you open to attack. "You criticize and condemn the English conception of justice, and English legal methods: you even question the impartiality of English judges, and throw an unpleasant light on English juries and the English public - all of which is not only unpopular but will convince the unthinking that you are a presumptuous, or at least an outlandish, person with too good a conceit of himself and altogether too free a tongue."

Genres: Biography, Nonfiction, History, Sexuality

250 pages, Unknown Binding

First published July 9, 2001

About the author

George Bernard Shaw was an Irish playwright, socialist, and a co-founder of the London School of Economics. Although his first profitable writing was music and literary criticism, in which capacity he wrote many highly articulate pieces of journalism, his main talent was for drama. Over the course of his life he wrote more than 60 plays. Nearly all his plays address prevailing social problems, but each also includes a vein of comedy that makes their stark themes more palatable. In these works Shaw examined education, marriage, religion, government, health care, and class privilege.

An ardent socialist, Shaw was angered by what he perceived to be the exploitation of the working class. He wrote many brochures and speeches for the Fabian Society. He became an accomplished orator in the furtherance of its causes, which included gaining equal rights for men and women, alleviating abuses of the working class, rescinding private ownership of productive land, and promoting healthy lifestyles. For a short time he was active in local politics, serving on the London County Council.

In 1898, Shaw married Charlotte Payne-Townshend, a fellow Fabian, whom he survived. They settled in Ayot St. Lawrence in a house now called Shaw's Corner.

He is the only person to have been awarded both a Nobel Prize for Literature (1925) and an Oscar (1938). The former for his contributions to literature and the latter for his work on the film "Pygmalion" (adaptation of his play of the same name). Shaw wanted to refuse his Nobel Prize outright, as he had no desire for public honours, but he accepted it at his wife's behest. She considered it a tribute to Ireland. He did reject the monetary award, requesting it be used to finance translation of Swedish books to English.

Shaw died at Shaw's Corner, aged 94, from chronic health problems exacerbated by injuries incurred by falling.

Reviews

[Elaine · Rating 3 out of 5]

I recently became obsessed with Oscar Wilde after reading "A picture of Dorian Gray" and was seized by a need to know everything about him. I read both volumes of Harris' Life and Confessions" over a weekend and chose his book as I could down load it free to my iphone:)I'm not sure how it rates compared to otherbiographies but will find out as I read more.

This was an imensly subjective account of Oscar Wile as Frank Harris was his friend. It was very difficult to tell if the facts were facts or facts as Harris sees them.Between these "facts " there was pages upon pages of Harris opinions about "the English, politics, various other writers and some of all this waffle had little or nothing to do with Oscar Wilde!At this point I was going to give the book two stars as Harris appeared to be using this biography as a platform for his own ideas. In addition I found his ideas highly offensive He called the homosexual activity Oscar was tried for "abnormal viciousness". Viciousness!!!....obviously a word that has changed over time to mean something else.He looked down on women and often names certain weaknesses in Wilde as womenly behaviour or traits.He saw the working classes as beneath contempt and really they shouldn't be listened to in court ,by virtue of their station alone. I started to dislike Mr Harris intensley!
I know ,I know , He was a product of his time and culture .All people were homophobic and very class concious and women were not regarded as equals in the late nineteenth centuary. I did take this into account but Harris still comes across as really very judgmental.

It takes Harris to near the end of volume one to accept Oscar Wilde was gay, despite much evidence of it, and only when he heard it from Wildes lips. Despite this, which I presume is because he really didn't want to believe his friend could be guilty of "that most abhorrent of vices", he talks often of Wildes many weaknesses. He is vain in the extreme, desperately attention seeking, indifferent to the needs of those less well off and an enormous snob. However Harris manages to convey his great affection for Wilde and indeed Wildes charm and "aimiabity"

If you want a biography of objective facts about Oscar Wildes life then I suspecct this isn't for you. If, like me , you are obsessed with Wilde, his life and works ,then it is rather a page turner.Emotional, highly subjective and a bit waffly in places it still gives you a picture of the whole man that was Oscar Wilde. I had a gruging admiration for Harris as, despite his predudices, he remained a loyal friend, standing up for Wilde and fighting his corner when it seemed the whole of society had turned against him, even risting being ostracised.For that he deserves to have his book read :)
Another group I would recommend this to is anyone with an interest in social history. The superficial world of the upper classes are viewed at first hand ;the prison system with all its cruelty and horror also seen through Wildes eyes [and there were children there!]. Without meaning to Harris has given us a snapshot of ninteenth centuary life from many different angles .

I'm still not sure if 3 stars is right. After I've read some more I may come back and change it.

Oh! and one of my favourite lines; Harris refers to someone who also risked being ostracised by standing bail for Wilde as "a clergy man, and yet still a Christian !"So funny and brilliant.

[Shane Brogan · Rating 4 out of 5]

I was surprised by how accessible this biography was. Harris' informal tone makes it seem like you're carrying on a conversation and his frankness tells you as much about that author as it does Wilde. I learned a good deal about Oscar Wilde that I hadn't before, but the author's close relationship does make me question how factually accurate he is at times. Overall a very good read.

[Dan Urueta · Rating 5 out of 5]

Después de terminar de leerlo siento que Oscar, Frank Harris y yo somos besties.

[Rosie · Rating 5 out of 5]

A very interesting book! I’ve read a bit about Oscar Wilde and am already familiar with the history of his life and of the legal trial, but this book gave me a much deeper understanding of what happened, particularly because it was written by one of his personal friends. Furthermore, it was published in 1916, much of it written earlier, not a century after everything took place. Because of this, it gives you a sense of the social and moral tone surrounding the events, during the time they actually took place; while a history book written in 2000 can coalesce many fascinating details and strands from separate parties, but it remains a book from 2000, with the flavor of the year 2000. This, however, feels honest and revealing.

The fact that Frank Harris was one of Wilde’s friends and communicated with him increasingly frequently around the point Wilde’s reputation started to get worse made this book much more enjoyable, because it wasn’t a distant, impartial review of facts, but instead it was deeply involved and oftentimes explained the proceedings in first person, because Harris was there, speaking to Wilde, in person. I found it interesting and touching that Harris arranged a multi-step, sophisticated escape plan for Wilde before the conviction, when Wilde was out on bail, during the second trial—which Wilde refused due to weakness of character.

Speaking of character, this book gave me a much better understanding of Wilde’s character than any book I have read before about him, or that touches on him, and it also helped me understand why he was so immensely popular, besides his brilliance; it was the fact that he was an incredible conversationalist, with a sparkling wit and humor, who could speak on any topic and make it engrossing. A crowd of people who felt hatred and disdain towards him, based off of the rumors they had heard of him, would, upon speaking with him and listening to him speak for an hour or two, come out loving and praising him! No wonder he was so popular—many famous and wealthy people invited him over simply to parties and gatherings simply to enjoy his conversation. He also was very good at flattering and praising people who he liked, and when he didn’t like others, he kept his mouth shut, both things that are apt to make one popular.

One other thing: I was surprised that, until very close to the end, Harris didn’t know Wilde was guilty of the accusations (i.e., that he was homosexual). I was touched by the conversation between the two of them he described, and the way he immediately said, after Wilde told him he was guilty (and Wilde was surprised Harris didn’t know), that it didn’t matter, and didn’t change the way he felt about Wilde. (Also, he later said that this confession was what helped him grow closer to Wilde and initiated a deeper friendship, because of Wilde’s vulnerability and candidness.)

In short, this was very illuminating, and, immediately upon finishing, I moved Volume 2 out onto my desk to move onto next!

Quotations:

“It is often assumed that he had no clear and coherent view of life, no belief, no faith to guide his vagrant footsteps; but such an opinion does him injustice. He had his own philosophy, and held to it for long years with astonishing tenacity. His attitude towards life can best be seen if he is held up against Goethe. He took the artist’s view of life which Goethe was the first to state and indeed in youth had overstated with an astonishing persuasiveness: ‘the beautiful is more than the good,’ said Goethe, ‘for it includes the good.’
It seemed to Oscar, as it had seemed to young Goethe, that ‘the extraordinary alone survives’; the extraordinary whether good or bad; he therefore sought after the extraordinary, and naturally enough often fell into the extravagant. But how stimulating it was in London, where sordid platitudes drip and drizzle all day long, to hear someone talking brilliant paradoxes.” (95)

“When Oscar republished ‘The Picture of Dorian Gray’ in book form in April, 1891, he sent me a large paper copy and with the copy he wrote me a little note, asking me to tell him what I thought of the book. I got the volume and note early one morning and read the book until noon. I then sent him a note by hand: ‘Other men,’ I wrote, ‘have given us wine; some claret, some burgundy, some Moselle; you are the first to give us pure champagne. Much of this book is wittier even than Congreve and on an equal intellectual level: at length, it seems to me, you have justified yourself.’
Half an hour later I was told that Oscar Wilde had called. I went down immediately to see him. He was bubbling over with content.
‘How charming of you, Frank,’ he cried, ‘to have written me such a divine letter.’
‘I have only read a hundred pages of the book,’ I said, ‘but they are delightful: no one now can deny you a place among the wittiest and most humorous writers in English.’
‘How wonderful of you, Frank; what do you like so much?’
Like all artists, he loved praise and I was enthusiastic, happy to have the opportunity of making up for some earlier doubting that now seemed unworthy”. (118-9)

“The latter part of the book, however, tails off into insignificance. The first hundred pages held the results of months and months of Oscar’s talk, the latter half was written offhand to complete the story. ‘Dorian Gray’ was the first piece of work which proved that Oscar Wilde had at length found his true vein.
A little study of it discovers both his strength and his weakness as a writer. The initial idea of the book is excellent, finer because deeper than the commonplace idea that is the foundation of Balzac’s ‘Peau de Chagrin,’ though it would probably never have been written if Balzac had not written his book first; but Balzac’s sincerity and earnestness grapple with the theme and wring a blessing out of it, whereas the subtler idea in Oscar’s hands dwindles gradually away till one wonders if the book would not have been more effective as a short story. Oscar did not know life well enough or care enough for character to write a profound psychological study: he was at his best in a short story or play.” (121)

I remember noticing this as well when I read The Picture. It got a bit more boring towards the end, as Dorian deteriorated. The writing was still beautiful, but there was less of that delightful spark which was evident in the beginning.

“One day I met a handsome youth in his company named John Gray, and I could not wonder that Oscar found him interesting, for Gray had not only great personal distinction, but charming manners and a marked poetic gift, a much greater gift than Oscar possessed. He had besides an eager, curious mind, and of course found extraordinary stimulus in Oscar’s talk. It seemed to me that intellectual sympathy and the natural admiration which a younger man feels for a brilliant senior formed the obvious bond between them. But no sooner did Oscar republish ‘Dorian Gray’ than ill-informed and worse-minded persons went about saying that the eponymous hero of the book was John Gray, though ‘Dorian Gray’ was written before Oscar had met or heard of John Gray. One cannot help admitting that this was partly Oscar’s own fault. In talk he often alluded laughingly to John Gray as his hero, ‘Dorian.’ It is just an instance of the challenging contempt which he began to use about this time in answer to the inventions of hatred.” (124)

“I want to give a picture of him at the topmost height of happy hours, which will afford some proof of his practical talent of speech besides my own appreciation of it, and, fortunately, the incident has been given to me. Mr. Ernest Beckett, now Lord Grimthorpe, lover of all superiorities, who has known the ablest men of the time, takes pleasure in telling a story which shows Oscar Wilde’s influence over men who were anything but literary in their tastes. Mr. Beckett had a party of Yorkshire squires, chiefly fox-hunters and lovers of an outdoor life, at Kirkstall Grange when he heard that Oscar Wilde was in the neighbouring town of Leeds. Immediately he asked him to lunch at the Grange, chuckling to himself beforehand at the sensational novelty of the experiment. Next day ‘Mr. Oscar Wilde’ was announced and as he came into the room the sportsmen forthwith began hiding themselves behind newspapers or moving together in groups in order to avoid seeing or being introduced to the notorious writer. Oscar shook hands with his host as if he had noticed nothing, and began to talk.
‘In five minutes,’ Grimthorpe declares, ‘all the papers were put down and everyone had gathered round him to listen and laugh.’
At the end of the meal one Yorkshireman after the other begged the host to follow the lunch with a dinner and invite them to meet the wonder again. When the party broke up in the small hours they all went away delighted with Oscar, vowing that no man ever talked more brilliantly. Grimthorpe cannot remember a single word Oscar said: ‘It was all delightful,’ he declares, ‘a play of genial humour over every topic that came up, like sunshine dancing on waves.’
The extraordinary thing about Oscar’s talent was that he did not monopolise the conversation: he took the ball of talk wherever it happened to be at the moment and played with it so humorously that everyone was soon smiling delightedly. The famous talkers of the past, Coleridge, Macaulay, Carlyle and the others, were all lecturers: talk to them was a discourse on a favourite theme, and in ordinary life they were generally regarded as bores. But at his best Oscar Wilde never dropped the tone of good society: he could afford to give place to others; he was equipped at all points: no subject came amiss to him: he saw everything from a humorous angle, and dazzled one now with word-wit, now with the very stuff of merriment.” (133-5)

“Lord Alfred Douglas has declared recently:
‘I spent much more in entertaining Oscar Wilde than he did in entertaining me’; but this is preposterous self-deception. An earlier confession of his was much nearer the truth: ‘It was a sweet humiliation to let Oscar Wilde pay for everything and to ask him for money.’
There can be no doubt that Lord Alfred Douglas’ habitual extravagance kept Oscar Wilde hard up, and drove him to write without intermission.” (151)

“At Mrs. Grenfell’s (now Lady Desborough) he crossed swords once with the Prime Minister and came off victorious. Mr. Asquith began by bantering him, in appearance lightly, in reality seriously, for putting many of his sentences in italics.
‘The man who uses italics,’ said the politician, ‘is like the man who raises his voice in conversation and talks loudly in order to make himself heard.’
It was the well-known objection which Emerson had taken to Carlyle’s overwrought style, pointed probably by dislike of the way Oscar monopolised conversation.
Oscar met the stereotyped attack with smiling good-humour.
‘How delightful of you, Mr. Asquith, to have noticed that! The brilliant phrase, like good wine, needs no bush. But just as the orator marks his good things by a dramatic pause, or by raising or lowering his voice, or by gesture, so the writer marks his epigrams with italics, setting the little gem, so to speak, like a jeweller—an excusable love of one’s art, not all mere vanity, I like to think”—all this with the most pleasant smile and manner.” (170-1)

A great retort, but I have to admit I feel the same way about italics. I don’t notice this problem as much in published fiction, but, Christ, don’t get me started about the italics problem with fanfiction writers…It makes me want to blow my head out sometimes. About 90% of the italics on that website is absolutely unnecessary!

“But at the time, all such matters were lost for me in the questions: would the authorities arrest Oscar? or would they allow him to escape? Had the police asked for a warrant? Knowing English custom and the desire of Englishmen to pass in silence over all unpleasant sexual matters, I thought he would be given the hint to go abroad and allowed to escape. That is the ordinary, the usual English procedure. Everyone knows the case of a certain lord, notorious for similar practices, who was warned by the police that a warrant had been issued against him: taking the hint he has lived for many years in leisured ease as an honoured guest in Florence. Nor is it only aristocrats who are so favoured by English justice: everyone can remember the case of a Canon of Westminster who was similarly warned and also escaped. We can come down the social scale to the very bottom and find the same practice. A certain journalist unwittingly offended a great personage. Immediately he was warned by the police that a warrant issued against him in India seventeen years before would at once be acted upon if he did not make himself scarce. For some time he lived in peaceful retirement in Belgium.” (233-4)

Interesting!

“The mere news that Oscar Wilde had been arrested and taken to Holloway startled London and gave the signal for a strange exodus. Every train to Dover was crowded; every steamer to Calais thronged with members of the aristocratic and leisured classes, who seemed to prefer Paris, or even Nice out of the season, to a city like London, where the police might act with such unexpected vigour. The truth was that the cultured aesthetes whom I have already described had been thunderstruck by the facts which the Queensbury trial had laid bare. For the first time they learned that such houses as Taylor’s were under police supervision, and that creatures like Wood and Parker were classified and watched. They had imagined that in ‘the home of liberty’ such practices passed unnoticed. It came as a shock to their preconceived ideas that the police in London knew a great many things which they were not supposed to concern themselves with, and this unwelcome glare of light drove the vicious forth in wild haste.
Never was Paris so crowded with members of the English governing classes; here was to be seen a famous ex-Minister; there the fine face of the president of a Royal society; at one table in the Cafe de la Paix, a millionaire recently ennobled, and celebrated for his exquisite taste in art; opposite to him a famous general. It was even said that a celebrated English actor took a return ticket for three or four days to Paris, just to be in the fashion. The mummer returned quickly; but the majority of the migrants stayed abroad for some time. The wind of terror which had swept them across the Channel opposed their return, and they scattered over the Continent from Naples to Monte Carlo and from Palermo to Seville under all sorts of pretexts.” (250-1)

“Excited by Arthur Walter’s obstinacy to find fresh arguments, I pointed out that Wilde’s offence was pathological and not criminal and would not be punished in a properly constituted state.
‘You admit,’ I said, ‘that we punish crime to prevent it spreading; wipe this sin off the statute book and you would not increase the sinners by one: then why punish them?’
‘Oi’d whip such sinners to death, so I would,’ cried the Irishman, ‘hangin’s too good for them.’
‘You only punished lepers,’ I went on, ‘in the middle ages, because you believed that leprosy was catching: this malady is not even catching.’
‘Faith, Oi’d punish it with extermination,’ cried the Irishman.
Exasperated by the fact that his idiot prejudice was hurting my friend, I said at length with a smile:
‘You are very bitter: I’m not; you see, I have no sexual jealousy to inflame me.’
On this Mr. Walter had to interfere between us to keep the peace, but the mischief was done: my advocacy remained without effect.” (256-7)

I love Harris for this.

“‘Oh, Frank,’ he said, ‘you talk with passion and conviction, as if I were innocent.’
‘But you are innocent,’ I cried in amaze, ‘aren’t you?’
“No, Frank,’ he said, ‘I thought you knew that all along.’
I stared at him stupidly. ‘No, I said dully, ‘I did not know. I did not believe the accusation. I did not believe it for a moment.’
I suppose the difference in my tone and manner struck him, for he said, timidly putting out his hand:
‘This will make a great difference to you, Frank?’
‘No,’ I said, pulling myself together and taking his hand; and after a pause I went on: ‘No: curiously enough it has made no difference to me at all. I do not know why; I suppose I have got more sympathy than morality in me. It has surprised me, dumbfounded me. The thing has always seemed fantastic and incredible to me and now you make it exist for me; but it has no effect on my friendship; none upon my resolve to help you. But I see that the battle is going to be infinitely harder than I imagined. In fact, now I don’t think we have a chance of winning a verdict. I came here hoping against fear that it could be won, though I always felt that it would be better in the present state of English feeling to go abroad and avoid the risk of a trial. Now there is no question: you would be insane, as Clarke said, to stay in England. But why on earth did Alfred Douglas, knowing the truth, ever wish you to attack Queensberry?’
‘He’s very bold and obstinate, Frank,’ said Oscar weakly.” (286-7)

This passage makes me feel very emotional. What a good man—and he doesn’t have our idea of civil rights or gay rights to urge him in the right direction; he simply follows his feelings and pronounces that he has more “sympathy than morality”.

“Looking back now I see clearly that my affection for Oscar Wilde dates from his confession to me that afternoon. I had been a friend of his for years; but what had bound us together had been purely intellectual, a community of literary tastes and ambitions. Now his trust in me and frankness had thrown down the barrier between us; and made me conscious of the extraordinary femininity and gentle weakness of his nature, and, instead of condemning him as I have always condemned that form of sexual indulgence, I felt only pity for him and a desire to protect and help him. From that day on our friendship became intimate: I began to divine him; I knew now that his words would always be more generous and noble than his actions; knew too that I must take his charm of manner and vivacity of intercourse for real virtues, and indeed they were as real as the beauty of flowers; and I was aware as by some sixth sense that, where his vanity was concerned, I might expect any injustice from him. I was sure beforehand, however, that I should always forgive him, or rather that I should always accept whatever he did and love him for the charm and sweetness and intellect in him and hold myself more than recompensed for anything I might be able to do, by his delightful companionship.” (290-1, referring to my previous quotation)

[Ali Miremadi · Rating 4 out of 5]

I came across Harris' biography of Oscar Wilde at the back of a Kindle edition of Wilde's complete works, after rereading some of the short stories for the nth time. Critics, including my favourite Ellman, argue that Harris was self-aggrandising and unreliable. However his excellent advice to Wilde during his trial, support during his career and both financial and moral assistance after release are well documented. His critical judgements of the work itself stand up very well to the judgement of history and, more subjectively, his assessment of Wilde's character chime with much other evidence. There are obvious issues with which one might disagree, such as Harris' views on homosexuality, but I thoroughly recommend these two volumes of biography to any other Wilde enthusiasts.

[Moth · Rating 5 out of 5]

"he was a sort of silent, sympathetic older brother. fortunately for me, he could not talk at all"
I hate this man with a passion he is the worst human being I've ever had the displeasure to read about he's SO ANNOYING and for what?
anyway 10/10

[Emelie · Rating 4 out of 5]

The writing style is a bit thick, but he does know Oscar Wilde very well. Nothing beats a first-person account.

[Barakiel · Rating 4 out of 5]

His friends were too good for him.

[Regine · Rating 4 out of 5]

Oscar Wilde by Frank Harris has been keeping me company while I worked in the garden for the past few weeks. I must admit that I knew absolutely nothing about him, except that he might have written 'The Importance of Being Earnest,' which I have also not read. 


I enjoyed the beginning part of the book of when he was young. Rather fascinating! He really enjoyed the good life, and he enjoyed talking much more than writing. 


I will be honest I did not know that he was gay. It's quite shocking that he was thrown into jail for two years because of this! It was also rather sad to learn about all the little children that were jailed at that time and the very cruel circumstances. I am very grateful for how things have changed. 


He sounded like a horrendous friend in his later life, constantly borrowing money so that he could pay off debt. But then, instead of paying off his debt, he would buy a bicycle for a boy that he liked. It was also interesting to learn that he was married and had children, but he really didn't think much of women. 


Here are some of the quotes from the book that I liked:


Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds (William Shakespeare)

Sickness is a symptom of weakness (Oscar Wilde)

Strong men are made by opposition; like kites they go up against the wind  (Frank Harris)

Creation is the first condition of art (Oscar Wilde)

[Anita Hargreaves · Rating 4 out of 5]

So sad

I would love to read more and understand him, he is an icon. God bless. great Intro good luck as happy reading

[Katrina Taylor · Rating 4 out of 5]

It was very interesting. Reading about his court experience I was just floored about how it was going

[Chels S · Rating 3 out of 5]

Hard to know who was more annoying and depraved, Wilde....or the author.

[Marta Pereira · Rating 4 out of 5]

Heard this as an audiobook and really enjoyed it!

[Elisa · Rating 4 out of 5]

As an intimate friend of Wilde's, Harris has a lot to say about the man. I wanted to love him as a champion of homosexuality. In fact, his response to opposition in that regard was far more cowardly than heroic. In the end, though there is so much to admire about Oscar Wilde, I find confirmed the suspicions that he was weak willed, spoiled, elitist, classist (emphasis on ass), incredibly selfish, self-centered, arrogant and intensely mysogynistic. Elitist isn't really a strong enough word to describe his vile attitude towards the poor and lower classes. He really believed they existed (and suffered) to make possible the flourishing of genius like his own. I really don't have words to describe my disgust about that side of Oscar. It makes me want to smack him and vomit simultaneously. He took entitlement to such obsessive, narcissistic heights. Perhaps this is the real reason he was so hated by so many in the middle class. He thought himself above everyone else. He thought they begrudged his success. I think they begrudged his imperious self-worship.
I think he is a prime example of the dire dangers of aristocracy. Growing up rich and privileged stunts your development. When you get whatever you want, you don't learn empathy or compassion or self-discipline or humility. He had a period during and immediately after his imprisonment where he seemed to have turned into a real human being, valuing suffering, finding compassion for others. But then Bosie came back and the descent into self-absorbed debauchery was swift. Oscar Wilde may have been a brilliant talker and writer, but if pressed to choose a single word to sum the man up, the word genius would have to be supplanted by the word ENTITLEMENT. If I could add an adjective, it would be hedonistic entitlement. Perhaps in Victorian times I would have felt compelled to indulge or forgive such a vile self-positioning towards the rest of humanity as I might have been poisoned myself by that zeitgeist. But as it is, I find it the deadliest and vilest sin. It is the choice of self above all others. I wanted to adore Wilde. In the end, I find, sadly, so much to despise.

[Greg Barron · Rating 5 out of 5]

I devoured this brilliant biography of Oscar Wilde. Five stars.

[Thom Swennes · Rating 3 out of 5]

I have long been familiar with Oscar Wilde the playwright but almost completely ignorant of the poet, adventurer, lecturer and man. He was born in Dublin, Ireland in the year 1854, as the second of three children, to Sir William Wilde and Jane Elgee. He first attended Trinity College and then traveled to England and attended Magdalen College, Oxford. Following his education he proceeded to hobnob with the intellectual and artistic elite of England. Well known figures as, the American born painter James Whistler and playwright George Bernard Shaw. The author, Frank Harris, was also a long time close friend to this extraordinary man. Like the classical composer Mozart, Wilde was destined to die at a relatively young age but his legacy continues to live on. This biography provides the reader with a fresh (in any case for me) insight in a literary master. This is much more than a tribute to his work but also an in-depth look at his life, thoughts, influences and motivations. This should be mandatory reading for anyone studying the nineteenth-century English (Irish) literary classics, and discretionary reading for those readers (like me) that love the lyrical form of that prose. I am caught between two stars. Three and a half would be a spot-on assessment but I have given it a conservative rating of three.

[Zahid · Rating 5 out of 5]

A great telling of the Life of Wilde by his close friend, starts off about Oscars Father and his brush with law and continues through to his Years at Oxford and the trial that destroyed him leaving him penniless to his demise in a room in Paris...Great narrative, humour throughout with insights that a close friend would only know...