I did not know what to expect from this book, only that its a classic novel about a man and his portrait painting.
The story is complex and confronts us with different questions about beauty, youth, and society. As any great novel there is a lot to analyse. Each action happening in the plot seems carefully crafted and made me hate Dorian Grey from page to page more. I was frustrated and confused; how one can change so much? How can one take such drastic measures? All because of a painting? It has been a while since a book left me with so many emotions, thoughts, and frustrations. Classics are just something special and their own type of genre, which I need to read more of.
