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112 pages, Paperback
First published April 12, 2016
While I was growing up in Hong Kong, I saw more of my father’s photographs than of my father because he was always away in various war zones. He would bring back photographs of the wars he saw, then leave again. He also left us a map, a wall-sized map of Southeast Asia, framed and hung above our dining table, so we could track him across Vietnam, Cambodia, and Laos. What I am attempting to do with my poems and my father’s photographs is what I used to do as a child when I stared at my father’s photographs and maps. I’m trying to imagine race=nation, its language, its wars. I am trying to fold race into geopolitics and geopolitics into poetry. Hence, geopolitical poetics. lt involves disobeying history, severing its ties to power. It strings together the faintly remembered, the faintly imagined, the faintly discarded, which is to say race=nation gets to speak its own faint history in its own faint language. Its mere umbilical cord is hardly attached to anything at all. Hence, hardly=war.Combining her father's photographs, artifacts from her youth, an unmailed postcard, historical references, pop culture quotations, and snippets of interviews with her father, Don Mee Choi has crafted an intimate exploration of biography (both personal and paternal), of war, and of the collide between western and eastern culture. The book hopscotches between collage and verse and prose poetry, creates and builds motifs and recurring themes across works, and slowly builds a referential vocabulary of its own.
I refuse to translate
~
I eventually became a foreigner
I no longer pretend to write in English
Because English is a foreigner like me
But I still pretend to be a foreigner - O rubbish!
Because that is what I am in English
~
Translate me and I'll kill you