Merlin Holland

At 52, Merlin Holland appears to have resolved his inner conflict: the importance of being Oscar Wilde's only grandchild. "It's not quite a burden," he says, "but if you carry this albatross around on your shoulders, it can be heavy and it can be uncomfortable. The only way to come to terms with it is to make it part of you and sort of ease it around into a position where you don't mind carrying it."

The trials of Oscar Wilde are as famous as anything he wrote. Wilde in the dock -- "big, loose and picturesque," as a contemporary newspaper put it -- has been played on screen by Robert Morley (1959), Peter Finch (1960), Michael Gambon (1986) and Stephen Fry (1998). There are at least a dozen full-length lives, with Richard Ellmann's currently the biography of first call. The image of Wilde's martyrdom at the Old Bailey in 1895 is as familiar as that of St. Sebastian pierced with arrows.

The trials of Oscar Wilde are as famous as anything he wrote. Wilde in the dock -- "big, loose and picturesque," as a contemporary newspaper put it -- has been played on screen by Robert Morley (1959), Peter Finch (1960), Michael Gambon (1986) and Stephen Fry (1998). There are at least a dozen full-length lives, with Richard Ellmann's currently the biography of first call. The image of Wilde's martyrdom at the Old Bailey in 1895 is as familiar as that of St. Sebastian pierced with arrows.

"In literature," Henry James wrote, "we move through a blest world in which we know nothing except by style, but in which also everything is saved by it . . . ." The observation, as is usual with the Master's obiter dicta, is touched with the wand of ambiguity. How is that world we enter via literature "blest"? What is it to be "saved"--and should we take the term to mean "preserved" or "redeemed' or both? Despite these opacities, however, the sentiment is clear.

"In literature," Henry James wrote, "we move through a blest world in which we know nothing except by style, but in which also everything is saved by it . . . ." The observation, as is usual with the Master's obiter dicta, is touched with the wand of ambiguity. How is that world we enter via literature "blest"? What is it to be "saved"--and should we take the term to mean "preserved" or "redeemed' or both? Despite these opacities, however, the sentiment is clear.

In 1987, Richard Ellmann's biography of Oscar Wilde marked a turn in that "tide in the affairs of men" which these subsequent books, among so many other studies, anthologies, entertainments and exorcisms, variously swell--nor does such a tide give any indication of being stemmed, though frequently redirected.

Calendar Weekend asked several Festival of Books authors: "What author would you like to meet at the festival?" Elizabeth Forsythe Hailey ("A Woman of Independent Means"): "Isabel Allende. I'm teaching a course at Hollins College [in Virginia] called Autobiographical Sources of Fiction. We began reading her extraordinary book about her daughter, which tells the story really of how she came to write 'The House of the Spirits.'

I was astounded to see your article on Oscar Wilde, in which Merlin Holland [Wilde's grandson] says several completely untrue things about our new film, "Wilde" ("On the Wilde Side," March 22). It is absolutely untrue that the film leaves the viewer with any impression that Bosie [Lord Alfred Douglas] and Oscar ended up together. I quote verbatim the card at the end of the film: "Oscar and Bosie parted after three months. Imprisonment had ruined Oscar's health. He spent his last days in Paris, living in a cheap hotel.

The Los Angeles Times Festival of Books will offer such diverse attractions as Charlton Heston reading Hemingway and children's entertainers Kino and Lucy doing bits from their "Storytime" TV show, along with book signings and, perhaps the most anticipated part of the festival, about 70 author panels. The event will draw people from San Diego to Santa Barbara and from East L.A. to the Westside.

A small idea of what it means to be homosexual in Russia might be gleaned from the life and death of composer Peter Illich Tchaikovsky, who died in 1893 after contracting cholera from a glass of water. A large part of the population here doesn't buy the official cause of death. The story persists -- probably a myth, historians say, but who cares? -- that the gay genius was confronted by former classmates, who accused him of assaulting the honor of their school with his male dalliances.

In 1987, Richard Ellmann's biography of Oscar Wilde marked a turn in that "tide in the affairs of men" which these subsequent books, among so many other studies, anthologies, entertainments and exorcisms, variously swell--nor does such a tide give any indication of being stemmed, though frequently redirected.

At 52, Merlin Holland appears to have resolved his inner conflict: the importance of being Oscar Wilde's only grandchild. "It's not quite a burden," he says, "but if you carry this albatross around on your shoulders, it can be heavy and it can be uncomfortable. The only way to come to terms with it is to make it part of you and sort of ease it around into a position where you don't mind carrying it."

THE ARTS Martha Graham Trust Forbids Use of Her Name: In a strongly worded letter, lawyers for the Martha Graham Trust (legal owners of her name, image, technique and repertory) are demanding that the now-defunct Martha Graham Center for Contemporary Dance stop using the name of the late pioneering modern dance choreographer in connection with any of its activities--including its certificate of incorporation, Web site and any future performances.

DAWNEA ADAMS Spirtuality in the '90s: Sunday, 2 p.m. Adams has been a professional parapsychologist, healer and metaphysical counselor for more than 20 years. She is the author of "Soul Surfing." CRISTINA ACEVES Times Storytelling Area: Saturday, 5:30 p.m. Aceves hosts "Los Angeles al Dia" on KMEX-TV, Channel 34, and has interviewed Hispanic figures including Emmanuel, Gypsy Kings and Edward James Olmos, as well as political leaders such as former President Bush, Gov.