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Toronto Star review

“As its title suggests, this appealing debut collection draws on personal experience. Chris Bailey grew up in North Lake, P.E.I., in a family that has been fishing for generations. He currently divides his time between North Lake and Hamilton, Ont., and still works on the boat when home. He often relies on a lean vernacular to portray that gruelling way of life and the people he shares it with: a man with hands “like lead weights/on the end of mackerel lines” and, especially, his father, who tells him, “The work is hard/and the smell follows you but the money don’t/stink, does it?” Elsewhere, Bailey writes with restrained lyricism of a long-distance love affair and of life away from P.E.I.; as he puts it wryly in one poem, “Insignificance is found/downtown at the foot of the CN Tower.” It’s the “salt-encrusted coils” still holding him, though, that anchor this collection.”
~ Barb Carey, Toronto Star