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It’s as if the late Vincent Buckley had a brother who stayed on the farm working year after year on plain, taciturn poems that read like secular hymns and prove that the knotty is often better than the smooth. Murphy doesn’t sprawl, he probably doesn’t know how to yarn, but he sure knows how to tour you around his country Victoria world itemising and celebrating those still surprising things that poets have been noting for centuries. — Alan Wearne
In the strong, angular bones of their language these poems are deeply alive to the world, and to the interactions between its human and natural elements. Murphy’s lines have a rhythm distinctly of their own, with a power of image attuned to both the raw edges and everyday miracles of working the land. This moving, memorable book makes its own new place in Australian poetry – one to which you’ll want to return again and again. —Peter Kirkpatrick
