I fell in love with this book as soon as I saw it on the shelf of an antiquarian book shop in Bern, Switzerland. The section of books in English was about 4 feet long and I doubted I would find anything to pique my interest, but I might easily have bought 6 titles. Well, not easily, in fact. I wonder whether a book such as this would mean so much to me if I had the funds to buy it easily? It was only after much soul-searching and an international telephone discussion with my wife that the purchase was made. Some successful haggling by my sister eased my conscience somewhat, and it was bought as a combined Christmas and birthday present.

Bound in magenta silk, in a slipcase decorated with portraits by Maeve Gilmore of Peake and Wilde, a limited edition of 200, of which mine is 153, and signed by Maeve Gilmore in gold ink, this is a beautiful artifact. Then, the illustrations by Peake (the principle element in my desire to own it) are both powerful and sensitive, rendered with a Chinese brush and solid ink-block.

What I know of Wilde is a play here, a short story there and a few witty mottoes. My initial scan of the poetry was enough to convince me that I would enjoy them, though I was at that point more excited by the illustrations. When I came to read the book, I wondered if Peake's selection of Wilde's poems might reflect his own fondness for wit, wordplay and nonsense, but I found that he had delved into a darker and deeper vein of Wilde's work, as echoed in his own Gormenghast books and his 'serious' poetry. I'm inspired to explore Wilde more extensively.

How do I sum up? If it's not too pretentious (and it probably is, but enthusiasm outstrips my reserve): A Literary Jewel. ( )