Then we are moved to Jack Worthing’s country house and meet his charming young ward Cecily and her governess Miss Prism. One by one, Algernon, Jack, Gwendolen and her mother arrive at the scene. Algernon calls himself Ernest Worthing and as such proposes to Cecily. Later, Gwendolen and Cecily quarrel over the non-existent Ernest Worthing, only to find out later that they both have been deceived.

Later, when Jack’s origins become known to him (they had been a secret to him all his life), he makes the most shocking discovery about himself: all the lies he ever told were in fact literal truth! And his real name is Ernest, after all – but John too.

Three happy engagements follow, looking unforgivably decent among all the cynicism, hypocrisy and lies that have been so pleasant to encounter… Even the young ladies – so beautiful, so passionate and so truthful – have their morals somewhat inside out, which doesn’t make them any less charming and lovable.

The play presents us with yet another side of Oscar Wilde’s multi-dimentional talent: his humour. Quite wicked – and totally perfect: not a word out of place – and at the same time he makes it quite easy to see what kind of message he is trying to convey. Just how many people surely felt indignant after recognising themselves in the characters of the play? We can only guess – and yet I’m sure they couldn’t help laughing at the same time.

Actually, both Jack and Algernon are a milder version of Sir Henry in “The Picture of Dorian Gray” – but they are harmless. I’m sure they’ll be perfect (and probably a bit dull) husbands to Gwendolen and Cecily respectively, once they grow just a little older. Amazing how Oscar Wilde could always highlight the most unpleasant about the very same society to which he himself belonged – and make it look either tragic or funny, depending on how he felt about it.

Re-reading this play was a nice bit of morning fun – it was, perhaps, one of the last mornings I was able to dedicate to this innocent entertainment, now that I’m about to get extremely busy. I have to warn my readers that from now on my new reviews will appear on this blog far less often, but I promise to keep this project going, no matter what. It’s been too much of a pleasure to abandon it just like this.

Needless to say the Town Councillors and the Mayor sound just a little too like the politicians of our time, and the description of their selfishness (which they don’t even bother to conceal) made me giggle.

Human nature hardly ever changes, and in my city statues aren’t even decorated with gold and gems… I wonder how many of our rich people remember to be charitable, even if once in a while. I’m sure Oscar Wilde’s fairy tale would touch even the most callous heart.

It is definitely a good read for the holiday season, which is over in the western countries by now, but just starting in Russia. Ours will last until 7 January, so there will be more fairy tale reviews to come in the following week.

Having tried everything – even walking around headless – and all in vain, Sir Simon de Canterville finally gives up. Then one evening he meets Miss Virginia Otis, the only daughter of the American family, and after exchanging a few ironic remarks (mainly related to cultural differences) they become friends. Being kind-hearted and pure, young Virginia helps the Ghost to find his way to the Garden of Death where his unhappy spirit finally finds its rest. An old prophecy is fulfiled.

After that even Virginia’s very practical father finds in his heart some respect for Sir Simon. They find his skeleton in a secret room and bury it, strictly observing the custom. Thus, after several centuries of scaring generations of noblemen out of their minds, ends Sir Simon’s existence as a Ghost.

Written in Oscar Wilde’s charming, translucent and fragrant English, “The Canterville Ghost” has the air of a Christmas story and seems particularly fit for reading during the holiday season. Though it talks about the importance of being kind and of helping each other and reminds us that even the severest sins can be forgiven, it doesn’t sound either like a lecture or a sermon. Far from it. Oscar Wilde never preached. Rather, it sounds like a fairy tale and is sure to bring a few smiles to the reader’s face, even if that reader is a person of the gloomiest disposition (which I’m certainly not).

And even though Sir Simon’s reasons for stabbing his wife to death were totally sexist, I’m glad his spirit has found peace.

I’m hoping that the readers of my blog are having a peaceful holiday season.

These are well known facts. The question is, “why?” Why did Dorian succumb so easily to the poisonous influence of Lord Henry’s words? Was it because he had been deprived of all pleasures during his childhood, growing up in the house of his stern and unloving grandfather? Was it because he was too good-looking for a man? Once I knew a young man who was just a little too good-looking – and he did tend to worship himself a little to much and to be selfish to the point of being immoral. Or was it just because this depravity was part of his real nature, just sleeping inside him until the day when it was destined to be woken – if not by Lord Henry, then by someone else. There’s always an eloquent cynic around, ready to prey on the innocent. Most of us can resist them – if we wish. Dorian didn’t even try to resist.

The result was horrible. Just like Dr Jekyll, Dorian was bound to discover that impunity didn’t exist. He ruined many others – he murdered his friend Basil Hallward – and then he finally ruined himself. It was inevitable.

I remember well how this book fell into my hands when I was just starting to read in English. In those days my vocabulary was quite restricted, but it was enough to appreciate the exquisite beauty of Oscar Wilde’s writing style. It wasn’t hard to read at all: I could easily guess the meaning of most unknown words from the context – and it sang to me. I’m re-reading it now, and it still sings to me. When I first read the book, I felt terribly sorry for Dorian whose life had been so promising, but was so thoroughly wasted. I was very angry with Lord Henry and blamed him for everything. I still feel sorry for Dorian – but in a different way, and I no longer blame Lord Henry, for nobody can deprave us if we don’t want to be depraved.

This book is a useful and fascinating read, and I recommend it to everyone – but especially to those who are 20 years old.