One hundred years after his death, Owen remains perhaps the single most tragic figure in the history of poet. He stands as a stark reminder of the sheer waste of the first World War, and a paean to the modern ideals of individuality and self-expression. Utterly heartbreaking, no matter how many times I read him. ( )

There is much religious imagery in Owen's poems, which dulls their intent to this atheist. Calls to authority and invocations of mythology dilute instead of intensify.

His pre-war work is intensely romantic and flowery. Then you remember he was only 25 when killed. Twenty five.

The marked change in style after meeting Sassoon is remarkable, and one can only wonder, sadly, at what he would have produced had he lived. He was a poet's poet.

His war poems are something completely different. They don't show the raw anger of Sassoon's, instead they convey Owen's inner world and empathy for people (including the enemy, at times).

Dulce et Decorum est is rightly lauded. It brings together the horror, both physical and political, of the First World War. Perfect terror.


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Ah fuck you war! Buy his poems. He was good. He was really, really good. ( )

This edition commemorates the centenary of the birth of Wilfred Owen who died in World War I. Containing the texts of all the finished poems of Owen's maturity and 12 important fragments, with notes, it derives from John Stallworthy's edition of Owen's "Complete Poems and Fragments".