In his preface Wilfred Owen hopes that the spirit of his work may survive after the names and places of the Great War are forgotten. When one reads his haunting poems on the horrors and reality of World War One, horrors which those back in England often were not fully aware of until Owen contributed to their exposure, one must feel that the spirit of them is very much still alive. Amidst the carnage death must have become commonplace, but Owen still managed to imbue all of his accounts with a suitably elegaic tone that makes this collection one of the saddest and, at the same time most life-affirming books which I have read in a long time. I would commend it as essential to anyone with an interest in World War One, or simply in the precious and fragile nature of life.