A minimalism worthy of Hitchcock.
– THE AGE
McBryde’s drive is not so much Gothic and surreal as a purposeful realism . . . he’s a first cousin of Anna Kavan and all conductors and inhabitants of the spectral.
McBryde achieves a haiku-like poignancy wedded to a modernist brutality.
– AUSTRALIAN BOOK REVIEW
This is poetry bare and unadorned, but clearly devised and positioned. McBryde knows how fragile words are, but he insists they carry their full weight of import.
– PETER PORTER
Well past stunning, this is shards of broken glass forced to glitter brilliantly in the darkness by a poet’s heart and a criminal’s hand. No superlative would do it justice.
– ANDREW VACHSS
McBryde’s marvellous use o f language reflects the rhythms that lie within a breath or a heartbeat. Indeed, it is like music: exciting, original and constantly surprising.
We enter an imagination that is surreal, tender and savage. The poems are paradoxical artworks of precise speech, chiselled lyricism, formal refrain and earthy textures carved into the cave wall of a page.
– JENNIFER HARRISON
Bold, innovative and mesmerising work. His is a darkly sensual vision, though circled by hope and sweetened by tenderness. Beauty and decay, hope and despair, extremes of emotion, all unite if pushed hard enough, and McBryde’s temperment is to push. Highly recommended.