Many years ago, I read The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde. I admired it very much. So much so that, when I saw Wilde's play The Importance of Being Earnest was showing in the Abbey Theatre, I paid good money to see it. That, too, I greatly enjoyed. But, for whatever reason, I never followed my interest in Wilde. I've never read another poem, play or novel by my fellow countryman.
Not until yesterday, in fact, did I come across any of Wilde's biographical details. Imagine my horror, then, to learn that a man I so admired was found guilty not only of homosexual acts, but is widely suspected of having had sexual encounters with young, working-class boys, after which he would pay the poor, vulnerable boys.
Someone should make a sensationalist documentary to match this truly sensational, yet concealed actuality. If only Wilde were alive today, I'd stick him in prison and subject him to hard labour for the rest of his days. And, oh, for the love of God, get anything he wrote off any school curricula it may still be on.
Hugh Green, Dermod Moore, Donagh are all equally scandalised.
Not until yesterday, in fact, did I come across any of Wilde's biographical details. Imagine my horror, then, to learn that a man I so admired was found guilty not only of homosexual acts, but is widely suspected of having had sexual encounters with young, working-class boys, after which he would pay the poor, vulnerable boys.
Someone should make a sensationalist documentary to match this truly sensational, yet concealed actuality. If only Wilde were alive today, I'd stick him in prison and subject him to hard labour for the rest of his days. And, oh, for the love of God, get anything he wrote off any school curricula it may still be on.
Hugh Green, Dermod Moore, Donagh are all equally scandalised.
Labels: cathal o'searcaigh, oscar wilde, sensationalism
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