A Phone Call from Dalian: Selected Poems of Han Dong

by Dong Han, Nicky Harman (Translator)

In a 1989 interview, Han Dong declared that he wrote poetry for nobody, not even himself. He likens the poet to a roofer: "I write poetry for the constitution of poetry, just as a roofer gives no thought to who lives in the house whose roof he is covering—he builds to meet the criteria of what a house is. Poetry is not subordinate to purposes beyond itself: its highest purpose is to be without purpose."

So�and�so's come to a sad end . . ."
In the gloom, he smiles gently, lovingly
As if to say I can rely on him in this world of nothingness
"But the thing is, we could never be sure
. . ."
"We probably should" and "Possibly". . .
Earnest words like the thread in a foster mother's hand
As she darns a monk's ragged robe
That's a story that can't be darned
"Poor man!"—The thread is knotted
But the knot in my heart tries to pass through the needle's eye
The tree leaves at dusk have an oily gleam

Han Dong was born in 1961 in Nanjing, where he continues to work as a full-time writer. He is also a respected novelist—his first, published in translation as Banished! by University of Hawai'i Press, was longlisted for the Man Asian Literary Prize 2008.

Nicky Harman lives in the United Kingdom. Besides translation work, Harman is active on the Chinese translated fiction website Paper Republic and in literary translation organizations in the United Kingdom.

Genres: Poetry

144 pages, Paperback

First published December 13, 2011

Reviews

[K]

This felt like reading Folger Shakespeare where one side is the old English and one side has translations but worse because my Chinese reading comprehension is not good for any level of literary comprehension or analysis…
it was cool that Han dong has some level of connection with these different cities and landmarks in China and sometimes forces the reader to be ignorant or a permanent outsider or deeply intimate with people and places. My favorite poem was probably the summertime window one, where there are old ladies dancing outside.

[Waqas Jani]

The Worker’s Hand

He hangs suspended from the building
The hand that grips the wall is motionless
A woman should fall in love with that hand
Should receive its caresses
A man should have a hand like this
Strong, grimy, like a fleshy sucker pad
A woman should be that wall
Drop down a bit, or better still,
Lie down
A man should hold that woman in a vice-like grip
His body soaked in sweat (but not his hand
No leaping heart or quivering legs)
If this is fetishism, then lets love this way
The worker's hand is a marvellous tool

[World Literature Today]

"Han’s strongest pieces—and they can stand their ground in any contemporary world literary canon—remain those that cut to the bone with some casual cruelty or ironic insertion, with a wrenching revelation or lurching image." - Josh Stenberg, Nanjing Normal University

This book was reviewed in the September 2013 issue of World Literature Today. Read the full review by visiting our website: http://bit.ly/14Anq4v