Review

I just finished reading The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde. Have you read it? His only novel among all his plays. I drew it out as long as I could, but the final pages flipped over this morning. It wasn't the quality of the story that drew me in so much as the marriage of the writing style and the plot and the meaning as one. I don't think you can separate the one from the others when Wilde is involved. He has such a way with dialogue between men (and women) that plays with English and plays with morals and plays with humour. It makes you wish you had said it first, or that you could at least recall it to a friend. His characters are so cynical. To the very end it was genius; and what an end.

So now, I must sit and dwell, as it's far too soon to pick up another tale.

It's Easter Sunday. A typical Easter in Brisbane - rainy. Perfect weather for a book, a DVD, or a blog. I think I'm going to watch apple movie clips. I haven't been to a movie in three and a half weeks. You all know me. You must all recognise that's beyong dry-spell in my idiolect. A truckload of blockbusters will be hitting the screens soon, and a scattering of independent films are expected to adorn the vulgar entertainment so that I can wash down Wolverine and Star Trek with Rudo Y Cursi and Away We Go. But until then it's too wasteful to see a mediocre movie, and too mediocre to talk about movies not worth seeing.

Happy Holidays