think Brute is Steven Bruce's strongest collection yet.
It's his darkest, funniest, and most emotionally varied book. One poem will leave you laughing out loud, the next will hit you with a line that completely knocks the wind out of you. It never feels disjointed, though. Every section builds on the same central idea: how we survive a world that's often brutal without losing our humanity.
The opening poems are some of Bruce's best. Why I Don't Visit My Father's Grave, Instructions for Breathing, The Body Is a Library of Grief, Small Mercies, and She Finds Me are deeply moving without ever slipping into self-pity. They confront trauma, addiction, grief, and forgiveness with the same honesty that's become Bruce's trademark, but there's a tenderness here that feels new.
The satirical poems are equally impressive. A Cockroach Walks into a Bar, Report from Hell, What I Saw, and The Killing Joke are savage, funny, and surprisingly insightful. Bruce skewers everything from workplace culture to social media gurus without feeling preachy, and the humour gives the heavier poems room to breathe.
Then there's the final section, Game Cuts, which I honestly didn't expect to enjoy as much as I did. The "Brute" poems are written in deliberately simple language, but they're packed with wisdom. What starts as a clever gimmick gradually becomes surprisingly profound. By the time I reached Brute Marry, Brute Loss, and Brute Return, I was completely invested in this oddly lovable character.
What I appreciate most about Bruce's work is that, despite all the darkness, his books never leave me feeling hopeless. They acknowledge how difficult life can be, but they also celebrate resilience, love, laughter, books, nature, and the small moments that make carrying on worthwhile.