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When [Robinson] talks about the game he loves, Canada’s game, he takes you to that hometown rink your mind returns most easily to. And in his new book of poems…he places you in the dressing room or the bleachers or, sometimes, on thin ice…
His collection of poems is no Stompin’ Tom sing-along Hockey Song. Mr. Robinson’s hockey vision is dark, sometimes gloomy. His characters are not toothless heroes smiling from a bubble gum card. They are the sorts of flawed characters…that haunt the big arenas and small-town rinks from coast to coast.
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