Name: De Profundis
ISBN: 9781840224016

Oscar Wilde

The Ballad of Reading Gaol and Other Writings

De Profundis

not as enjoyable as the picture of dorian gray but, considering that this is a (very personal) letter most likely not meant to be published and much less likely meant to be enjoyed by an audience, i think it matters little. i adore wilde's prose and i found the begining of the book to be the most enjoyable.

DE PROFUNDIS.

Benedict Neo

Profound lessons on the meaning of sorrow and its beauty; facing the past with courage and viewing your mistakes as "an inevitable part of the evolution of your life and character"; the healing power of nature and many more. In this letter was also an honest and raw description of the pains and pleasure of Wilde's love, his views on what art is, Christianity and incarceration. 

To me, the greatest lessons were first how the simplest things in life can bring happiness, from the quote “With freedom, flowers, books, and the moon, who could not be perfectly happy?”. The second was the importance of creating our own identity and finding your true passion. With his quote, “Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else's opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation.”, especially in a time where information has burgeoned, it's easy to lie to ourselves and chase after society's definition of "success", where we sacrifice our own wellbeing to gain a sense of self-worth and fill our lives with non-essential material things to gain false happiness, it's so important to go back to nature and being more mindful about the simple things of life and being grateful for them.

If you know me you know I’m in love with Wilde’s writing. So beautiful yet heartbreaking. I loved the book but sometimes it was tiresome, though it wasn’t necessarily Wilde’s fault - sometimes his pages were taken from him in the middle of writing so he had to repeat himself. 

Yalin Tsikun

Zeynep Yağmur Bulut

mayra

pain :D

in order to fully understand it one should be familiarised with Wilde's biography, his relationship to Bosie and the trials - this just gives a bit more context on the letter

Safiya 

Very honest autobiography.. as far as I'm concerned, this might be accounted for as a part of prison-lit, or a neo-romantic exploration of the gospels as well, rather than what it got famous for..

Mica

4.5.
La lectura estuvo buena, pero en algunas ocasiones la carta se me hizo muy repetitiva, aunque me gustó la forma en la que está escrita, llena de metáforas que explican bien la situación emocional en la que se encontraba Oscar Wilde mientras la escribía.

Sonia Flores

Español
Empecé a leer este libro con la finalidad de conocer un poco más a uno de mis autores favoritos, pero lo terminé de leer conociendo un poco más a la humanidad. Una humanidad a veces injusta, a veces conducida por el odio y la vanidad. Otras tantas por los prejuicios, el interés, el desenfreno y la intolerancia, pero también, y contra todo pronóstico, cómo puede uno elegir ser movido por el amor sin necesidad de ser débil ante quien lo recibe o ante el hecho de no recibirlo a cambio. Lo importante aquí es, siempre albergar amor en nosotros, en cualquier circunstancia, pues no existe en el mundo cárcel cuya entrada no pueda forzar el amor.
"Quien verdaderamente abriga en sí el amor, encuentra amor para consigo"
Y esto se refleja con el pasar de las páginas, cuando se comprende que dar siempre estará bien, siempre que no estemos corrompiéndonos nosotros mismos o echando perlas a los cerdos. Wilde se rompió intentando mantener unido algo que nunca existió, y lo entendió de una manera dolorosa.
Al principio no podía dejar de pensar que Alfred, a quien está dirigida la carta, estaba cegado por el odio mientras que Wilde, por su parte, parecía cegado por un amor desigual e impuro por no ser correspondido y ser dado desmesuradamente. Wilde amó por los dos, pero dejó que todo lo demás se perdiera. Esto no era amor, percibí quizá que buscaba ser correspondido, aceptado, y el progreso de su propia conciencia a lo largo de toda la carta me hizo ver lo verdaderamente profundo de su corazón, aunque inmaduro; uno que entendió que lamentarse de su desgracia no haría más que envenenarlo, y que la mejor alternativa era, en cambio, aceptar que los procesos y el dolor son necesarios para mirar la historia desde un distinto punto de vista con mayor claridad e intensidad, aunque aprendiendo siempre de ellos (dudo que no lo haya hecho, dadas todas las cosas que perdió por volcar su vida en una sola persona, que no lo amaba ni la mitad de quienes terminaron dañados).

Pronto las páginas dejaron de contener lamentos y quejas, y pasaron a ser hermosas reflexiones sobre firmes convicciones y mucha introspección. Estoy segura de que mientras escribía esta carta, él mismo descubrió cosas de sí que habían permanecido enterradas durante mucho tiempo, y aunque en algún momento me causó un tanto de tristeza ver a un gran artista venido a menos por alguien que solo estuvo para destruirlo, aceptó sin terquedad lo que había tenido que sufrir ya sea justa o injustamente, porque él mismo había tomado la decisión que lo había llevado hasta ese lugar. Ojalá su vida artística no se hubiese visto interrumpida de esta forma, casi puedo sentir su frustración al no poder hacer lo que amaba por la presencia de alguien a quien creía amar más.


ENGLISH
I started to read this book in order to know a little more about one of my favorite authors, but I finished reading it knowing a little more about humanity. A humanity sometimes unfair, sometimes driven by hatred and vanity. Many times driven by prejudice, interest, self-indulgence and intolerance, but also, and against all odds, how can one choose to be moved by love without needing to be weak to those who receive it or to the the fact of not receiving it in return. The important thing here is always to have love in us, in any circumstance, for there is no prison in the world whose entrance can not force love.

And this is a reflection of the passage of the pages, when it is understood that it is always right, as long as we are not corrupting ourselves by throwing pearls at the pigs. Wilde broke down trying to hold together something that never existed, and he understood that in a painful way.

At first I couldn't help but think that Alfred, to whom the letter was addressed, was blinded by hatred, while Wilde, on the other hand, seemed blinded by an unequal and unbridled love. Wilde loved for both of them, but he let everything else go. This was not love, I perceived perhaps that he sought to be reciprocated, accepted, and the progress of his own consciousness throughout the whole letter made me see the true depth of his heart, though immature; one that understood that to lament its misfortune would only poison itself, and that the best alternative was, instead, to accept that processes and pain are necessary to look at life from a different point of view with greater clarity (I am sure he did, given all the things that he lost by overturning his life in one person, who did not love him half as much as those who were damaged).

Soon the pages ceased to contain lamentations and complaints, and became beautiful reflections on firm convictions and much introspection. I am sure that while he wrote this letter, he himself discovered things that had been buried for a long time, and although at some point it made me a bit sad to see a great artist come to less for someone who was only there to destroy him, I saw that he accepted without stubbornness what he had had to suffer either justly or unjustly, because he himself had made the decision that had brought him to that place. I wish her artistic life had not been interrupted this way, I can almost feel his frustration at not being able to do what he loved because of the presence of someone whom he thought he loved even more.

De Profundis The Ballad of Reading Gaol and Other Writings