The book opens with a chapter describing Lord Reginald Hastings’s languid and self-adhering preparation for going out. It is a portrayal that makes him unsympathetic.
Reggie visits the Belgrave Square home of Mrs. Windsor, whose other guests include Esmé Amarinth. Both he and Mrs. Windsor hope to secure Reggie’s indolent life of beauty by marrying him to the riches of the other guest that evening, Lady Locke, Mrs. Windsor’s young widowed cousin. And Reggie, not disinclined, undertakes a diffident courtship of Lady Locke when the scene shifts to the country, where Mrs. Windsor invites them for a week in her cottage.
Lady Locke soon catches on and prepares herself for the expected proposal. At first, she’s amenable, although her feelings toward Reggie are more maternal than amorous. But, above all, Reggie confuses her. Early on, she says to herself: “I can’t understand him. . . . He seems to be talented, and yet an echo of another man, naturally good-hearted, full of horrible absurdities, a gentleman, and yet not a man at all. He says himself that he commits every sin that attracts him, but he does not look wicked. What is he? Is he being himself, or is he being Mr. Amarinth, or is he merely posing, or is he really hateful, or is he only whimsical, and clever, and absurd? What would he have been if he had never seen Mr. Amarinth?”
Her feelings turn to fury when she overhears Reggie promising her son, Tommy, a green carnation (Reggie and Esmé wear a fresh one in the lapel each day).
The green carnation is, of course, a potent symbol. Green is the color most closely associated with nature, but in a carnation, it is unnatural.
The green carnation was also, notoriously, concocted by Oscar Wilde. Indeed, the two men in the novel are modeled on Wilde and his notorious young companion, Lord Alfred (“Bosie”) Douglas. Moreover, the conversation abounds in Wildean epigrams, many of them, I learned after finishing the book, overheard on the lips of Wilde and Lord Douglas by Hichens.
Amarinth is depicted as an effete aesthete and playwright of minor achievement.
The novel tries to be light-hearted, but by making a brave choice—in England, 1894—to tackle “unnatural vice,” it makes its task difficult. In addition, some of the modest pleasure I took from the book was diminished when I learned that it was introduced as evidence when Wilde was put on trial two years after this book’s publication.
And as for Lady Locke’s speculation that Amarinth has corrupted Reggie—well, in the case of Oscar and Bosie, let’s say that is open to interpretation. ( )

"Robert Smythe Hichens (1864-1950) was tot 1894 een vrij onbekende verhalenschrijver en journalist. In de winter van 1893-1894 vertoefde hij voor zijn gezondheid in Egypte, waar hij Lord Alfred Douglas ontmoette, die hem introduceerde in de kringen van zijn vriend Oscar Wilde. De decadente levensstijl van deze toen beroemde auteur inspireerde Hichens tot het schrijven van de briljante satirische roman The Green Carnation." Zo begint de uitleg op de achterflap van wat in 2005 door Zsuzsó Pennings in het Nederlands vertaald werd als De groene anjer en uitgegeven door Uitgeverij Voltaire.

Nu zal u, mocht u dat willen, vruchteloos zoeken naar Uitgeverij Voltaire. Voor zover ik weet, heeft ze na het uitgeven van nogal wat vertalingen van oudere werken de geest gegeven. En, eerlijk gezegd, ook de werken van Hichens zijn niet meer onder de levenden. Ja, u vindt nog wel korte pagina's op de diverse Wikipedia's over de schrijver, maar er zijn geen clubjes meer die zich bezig houden met 's mans werken, geen verenigingen die zijn nalatenschap in ere houden, geen fans die een of andere webpagina over hem bij mekaar gepend hebben.

Waarom? Wellicht omdat een satire die moet onderdoen voor het origineel niet bijzonder interessant is. En dat is het geval met De groene anjer. Ja, wellicht leidde de roman onbedoeld - want Hichens liet het boek uit de handel halen toen dat gebeurde omdat het hem "van een zeer slechte smaak [leek] te getuigen een dergelijk schotschrift tegen een beroemd man te blijven verkopen wanneer die man in moeilijkheden is geraakt" - tot de gevangenisstraf van Oscar Wilde wegens homofilie, maar je moet al stekeblind zijn om die homofilie niet even goed tussen de lijnen door te kunnen lezen in de werken van Wilde zélf. En Wilde schreef gewoon beter.

Conclusie: als je werken wil lezen uit de zogenaamde Naughty Nineties, ga dan gewoon voor die van Oscar Wilde. ( )

This book is one long "Hipsters suck!" rant. Hipsters in 1895 England being dandy aesthetes like Oscar Wilde and Bosie. It's like, "Look at these rich kids, pretending to be *authentic* and being *creative* the privileged bastards. I am seething with... with... envy! No wait, I shouldn't be. At least I am not a gaymo like tbose fags." It was really funny to read. Not funny like it was clever (because it wasn't) but funny like a car crash. ( )

I spotted this at a used bookstore when I was newly back from Oxford, finishing my thesis in Vancouver, and in such a whirlpool of Wilde that I don't think I could've even appreciated the amusement of it. Two years later it reminds me of how entrenched I once was, but how much I still love it all.

I wouldn't recommend this book for entertainment unless you are really already interested in Wilde's history and aesthetic life & philosophy of the 1890s, because it is so very specific to that ethos. The things Amarinth says are completely over-the-top, but they're very much in the style of Wilde and I think if you took a few phrases out of context, just before they become ridiculous, I'd have a hard time identifying whether they were genuinely Wilde or not. Everything is rose-coloured and gilded and shimmering purple.

It would be so easy to write a paper about Lady Locke's anxiety about the green carnation. Much too easy, really. This is not subtle satire, there is nothing cloaked here, and I'm sure it's not just my background in Wilde's life & times that makes me say so. ( )

A brilliant parody on Oscar Wilde and his circle.