Theloopylululog

An author I would absolutely love to have dinner with has to be Oscar Wilde.

I have always loved the power of language. How it enables us bumbling humans to relate, debate, create and translate our deepest emotions into feelings and expression.

English has held my heart ever since my first exposure to it. First with fear as I wasn’t very good at it and then with a love that surpassed all other kinds of love.

I devoured book after book as author after author introduced themselves to me. And I kept falling for authors who romanced English just the way I like it. Sometimes three in a single month.

But not until Wilde did I even begin to estimate the depth of my love for English. The man waltzed with English like no one else. His flamboyance, wit and unmatched gift for the language is unparalleled.

Every book and every author I have read has left a part of themselves that reflects in who I am. But they always left a wee bit of desire unfulfilled. It’s like I was seeking something in them and came quite close to finding it but alas…never did.

And then I came across Oscar Wilde and The Picture of Dorian Grey. One of the finest books I have ever read. The BEST in expression…I mean English blooms in the garden of Wilde like it doesn’t elsewhere.

Reading that book finally gave me the peace I always sought while reading any book.

It didn’t fill any broken holes within me or repair some loose mental gear in my mind. It simply left me with an awe and amazement that lasts till date.

How could Wilde explore English so finely and so exquisitely is something I would want to know if I were to meet him. What was it about English that made him express himself so freely in the language?

What was the inspiration behind Dorian Grey? How did he unravel the mind, the mania, the attachment to self and the obsession with youthfulness of Grey so marvelously?

The day I turned the last page of this book I was obsessed with Wilde. I wanted to read every novel he had ever written and went on this giant spree to indulge myself.

Only to be sucker punched to the gut.

The Picture of Dorian Grey is his only novel. He didn’t live long enough to write as much as he should have. English lost one of it’s most beloved lover to society’s fallacy and duplicity.

Did you know Wilde was gay and persecuted for his choice? Hounded, imprisoned, forced to hard labour leading to emotional and physical decline and financial ruin. He died as a destitute exiled in France in a hotel room at 46.

What a tragedy!

I took it as a personal loss and actually wept knowing that I will never be able to read the expanse of his beautiful language. Knowing that he could have gifted us with his magical words if only he had lived long enough was gut wrenching. Still is.

So if I could, I would absolutely love to sit by his side and watch him write. A dinner is just an excuse to see the man romance and waltz with English all over again. Fingers crossed!