Wilde, Like Oscar

I've always been a fan of Oscar Wilde. Of course, as you can imagine, I fell into the rapture of Dorian Gray some time ago, but recently I came upon a new book that shed light on Oscar's character as a the person rather than solely the writer and poet and I suspect he has enchanted me from the grave.

It is a semi-biography "based on true events" they boast. The name of the book is Oscar Wilde and a Death of No Importance.

I don't know how I feel about factual accuracy in highly personal depictions of events. There are certain techniques employed in autobiographical and biographical writings.

In short, the fact doesn't (and often cannot) articulate the feeling at times. I think there is nothing wrong in using symbolism to capture a mood, an atmosphere: who cares if it took two days. I wrote that it took two weeks because, well it felt that long...etc, and I need the reader to fully understand this. To me it's just a variation of a metaphor. The idea of a metaphor, in a sense, stretched over a piece to cover more than just "The knife to the heart" but also the difference between two hours and two weeks.

Imagination is underrated! And the story should unfold like a cherry tree in April. You get my drift.

Wilde once said, "Biography lends to death a new terror" and I chuckle at that statement, but in my eyes it all depends on the biographer (Wilde actually told his friend to take notes as to later be able to write one). He was fortunate to have some good ones. Many people "worshiped" him, he took command and captivated all those in his presence indeed, I consider him a genius. And he suffered his dues to the great mind behind his eyes. Sir Arther Conan Doyle echoed this sentiment when creating fictional character Sherlock Holmes. Though I doubt nowadays heroin and cocaine could be compared to homosexuality, perhaps that was lent to the Victorian era in which these events took place. Hey, don't get red in the face, they hadn't even invented running water then. It wasn't our prime...well socially speaking, but then again, now isn't either. But I digress.

However, genius bears the mark of woe as well. And I think that is the point of this post. We all strive (in some way at least) to be "brilliant", "Cutting edge" but who really wants to endure the burden of genius? It's a serious thing to take on, and a lonely road to travel. The delicate line that separates genius and lunacy is not getting any bulkier despite what researchers suggest. In fact the odds are good for the modern sociopath: go to work, bite some heads off, get promoted. HELLO, corporate America, you're brilliant! Shine on, down my organic throat.

1 comments:

Anonymous said...

I probably agree with you, although, sometimes i equate genius with gift... and in certain times all the difference in the world lies in the gratiousness of the beholder of the gift.

Certainly, it is of great consequence to be "adored" for your profession or any other expression of a gift. It requires great security and yes it may cause stress at times. Stress notwithstanding, sharing a gift is an opportunity to participate in life.

Imagine if the sun were not gracious enough to shine? Or if an orange tree not gracious enough to bare its fruit? Truly our society has lost the ability to be gracious in receipt of praise and humble in its offering.

Concomitantly, a wise man once said.." of all the things in life your hate is that which is most real and your love is that which is most unreal"... Not because love is less or that you cannot love but because you have been taught to love things.. I.E. love god, love life, love mom... love dad... Hate has never been taught so when it expresses itself it is more honest.

I wonder what would happen if we just loved from the same visceral place we hated from? I wonder what would happen if we learned to love without question or if we accepted the reality of love like we accept the reality of hate... would we appreciate our gifts? or Our genius? would we accept the role that our gifts have in the lives of others... Just a thought..

Of course I think your writing is a gift!