6/5 stars. I am left both immensely appreciative yet deeply upset and saddened after finishing this book. Dominic Hibberd has truly outdone himself with his work and devotion to Wilfred Owen in all stages of Owen’s life. Reflection on Owen’s life in detail is where I find myself torn. Hibberd has shown us all the important and even private, intimate details of Owen’s life, presenting him as a regular man, but also as a friend who’s company we have come to enjoy and love greatly. However, at least for me, this book is written so well about the events of his life that it almost doesn’t prepare you for his death; how useless it truly was, as the battle that was his last was also the last of the war, literally days away from Armistice. It is truly a pity that his poetry started taking a shape of its own in the last year and a half of his life, remaining virtually unknown. While it echoed people who he had long admired, both dead and living in his time, it had truly started to reflect his own vision, what stories he wanted to tell. This book has become one of my favorite books ever, and I am so thankful that I’ve had the opportunity to read it. I look forward to reading Hibberd’s other books on Owen. This book has only fueled my Wilfred Owen obsession even more. After reading this, I feel more sure of myself to tackle my thesis, and hopefully read and analyze his poems in the manner he intended. If not already there before, I now only have the utmost and profound respect for Wilfred Owen, the man, the soldier, the poet.