This book annoyed me quite a bit. If it were possible that I ever met Mr De Quincey in the street I don't think I would be able to resist punching him in the nose. I imagine he would be pontificating to some poor soul about how superior he was to everyone, especially S T Coleridge (I have a hope that Coleridge had never heard of this man; that would really annoy him from the amount of snide remarks he has to make about him in this book). The descriptions of the effects of opium from his viewpoint are interesting and captivating, but the amount of pointless self-indulgent waffle you have to wade through is astounding. I am a more hateful man for having read the whole of this book. It is worth a look for an insight into something unpleasant (in more ways that one).