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Janusz Szuber bypassed all Polish poetic generations by writing at the table, although he belonged to the New Wave by age, he started together with the BruLion generation. But neither the former nor the latter became his milieu, as he made his debut in the 1990s at the age of forty-seven.

Schuber had a unique gift for visualising experiences, telling stories, combining historical and family memory, and alchemically searching for the poetic substance of words. His poems smelled of the pine needles of the surrounding forests and at the same time were illuminated by intelligence drawn from books and his own reflections, they coexisted with childish naivety and philosophical overtones.

His poetic language incorporated classical quality and modern vanity, carved baroque and depth of expression, irony about writing and faith in the purpose of literature, doubts and challenges that accompany human life. His poem did not lose its polyphonic sound, even when it was about rain flowing through the leaky roof of an old Syonets house, and someone on the attic, picking and putting puffs.