House A investigates the tones and textures of immigrant home-building by asking: How is the body inscribed with a cosmology of home, and vice versa? With evocative and intellectual precision, House A weaves personal, discursive, and lyrical textures to invoke the immersive-obscured experience of an immigrant home s entanglement while mapping a new poetics of American Home, steeped in longing and rooted by displacement."
A book of poetry examining the themes of growing up the child of immigrants as well as how the layout of our childhood homes effects who we become is something I didn't even know I wanted until I stumbled across this.
Being a first-generation American who recently left his childhood home, these themes have been on my mind a lot lately and this book didn't disappoint.
It's one I can definitely see myself coming back to.
Letters to Mao was wonderful, but I didn't quite understand the other two sections of poetry. The way it was written just didn't make sense. This is not the poetry for me.
This winter (time of so much upheaval) I've decided to ground myself in poetry — to read and respond to as many books as time allows. I can't think of a better place to begin than House A (Omnidawn, 2016) by Jennifer S. Cheng. A series of dreamy epistolary prose poems opens the 122 page collection. Addressed "Dear Mao," the passages describe displacement and the ways "a landscape can cradle a person home." The short center section of Cheng's book is a lyrical alphabetized glossary that defines "longing as location." In the third and final section, "How to Build an American Home," black & white photographs, charts, and maps accompany evocative commentary on spiritual geography, the architecture of space, and the ways a house "steeps in spoonfuls of patterns, ghosts, leaves." In this "system of invisible dimensions," Cheng writes, "decades have no margins, oceans do not stop." Selected by Claudia Rankine, House A won the 1st/2nd Poetry Book Prize from Omnidawn Publishing.
An indispensable book covering the tracks of how migration matters, but also how we all live: through, before, and after the definitions of our housing.