Sonja Ctvrtecka's first volume Nocturne Edge marks an exciting - and delayed - debut. Humour and heart cusp a hallucinatory lyrical drive and bleached political commentary; not all the references are scrubbed away, just most.

A lyricism that fell superbly from its early graces, to one tauter, more locally (even beach based) - touched with the madness of military poitics. Where the correct way to pour a Columbian rum and coke jostled with early Richmond Mick Jagger; to a world dodging redcap army police in Guildford with an AWOL soldier and his despatch to Ireland, signalling a rite of ironic passion.

Hove actually, Brighton virtually was never better encated than the performance of 'Operation Empathy' in German and English. Ctvrtecka's work is emphatically not performance poetry; yet it leaps from page to stage and back. When so much else ends in gutteral spitoon, Ctvrtecka proves home is where the heart attack is.
Gerlad Fieberg, Zeitriss

Ctvrtecka's finest work isn't so much eliptical as a scrunch - a brilliant short cut of metaphysical argument, as in 'Gassed', If San Fransisco, Brighton's sister city lend-leased a fault line for a ley line, then Ctvrteck could drop Brighton in a brilliant forgetting of its own hype. There is something pyroplastic and horribly un-English about her.
Simon Jenner, Corpses and Clarinets