The Trial of Oscar Wilde from the Shorthand Reports

I’ll admit: I approached this expecting dry legalese, but Dalgleish’s performance turns the transcript into something visceral. His Wilde isn’t campy or overplayed—just a man whose voice tightens with exhaustion as the trials drag on, his famous epigrams delivered with a edge of desperation. The real revelation? The prosecution’s witnesses. Hearing their stumbling, prurient testimonies (read with pitch-perfect smugness by Dalgleish) makes the trial feel less like history and more like a grotesque reality TV show—if reality TV involved ruining lives over poetry. That said, the audiobook isn’t without flaws. The editorial commentary, while sharp, occasionally interrupts the flow; I found myself wishing for a separate chapter to digest Grolleau’s analysis rather than mid-trial asides. And the pacing in the first hour drags—legal proceduralism is inherently repetitive, and even Dalgleish can’t fully mask the redundancy of certain exchanges. But when Wilde takes the stand? The audiobook *sings*. His closing speech about “the love that dare not speak its name” is delivered with such quiet fury that I replayed it twice. This isn’t just for Wilde devotees; it’s for anyone who loves watching language weaponized—for better and for worse.