I just today remembered that this book existed. I read the whole thing standing in a used book store one afternoon shortly after it came out, and was more than a little disgusted by it.
The art is lovely, but it was the concept that I found bothersome.
Because, yes, as an adult - I still believe in faeries.
A friend got it for me as a birthday gift not long after I read it, thinking that it would be perfect for faerie loving me, and I gave that grin that says to most people "Oh, I LOVE IT!" but really means "Oh, I love YOU, so I'll PRETEND to love it!"
Everyone has one of those grins, I've perfected mine over a number of years.
I wanted to love this book, but the thought of smushing faeries, even if it's just to capture their essences (which really sounds dirty now that I think about it) put a bad taste in my mouth (which furthers that dirtiness earlier in the sentence, I guess).
It's kind of making me sad thinking about it now, and I'm glad this wasn't around when I was a kid. I would have taken the whole thing as a personal affront and refused to ever watch Monty Python again because Terry Jones would have been DEAD TO ME.
He was never my favourite, anyway.