In her radical exploration of cultural and personal identity, the writer and artist Theresa Hak Kyung Cha sought “the roots of language before it is born on the tip of the tongue.” Her first book, the highly original postmodern text Dictee, published in 1982, is considered a classic work of autobiography and is widely read by students internationally. This stunning selection of her uncollected and hitherto unpublished work at last brings together Cha's writings and text-based pieces with images spanning the period between 1976 and 1980. The volume includes two related poem sequences, Exilée and Temps Morts, major texts incorporating autobiographical elements as well as themes of language, memory, displacement, and alienation--issues that continue to resonate with artists decades after Cha explored them. These moving works give a fuller view of the creative nexus out of which Dictee emerged and attest to the singular literary achievement of a major figure in late-twentieth century art.
Most famous for her experimental memoir/novel, Dictee, Theresa Hak Kyung Cha is a Korean American writer, filmmaker and performance artist. She was born in Pusan, Korea, during the Korean War, but relocated with her parents to San Francisco, California. The interdisciplinary nature of Dictee, which combines narrative, poetry, movie stills, family photos and an array of other genres and forms, and written in various languages, reflects her own varied education. She attended the University of California at Berkeley, where she earned both an M.F.A. and M.A. (in Comparative Literature). She later relocated to Paris, France, where she studied film and brushed elbows with a number of well-known French filmmakers.
Her life was cut tragically short when, in 1982, just a few days after the publication of Dictee, she was raped and murdered by a stranger in New York City. Dictee received little critical attention until the 1990s, when it was republished by Third Woman Press, but it is now regarded as a classic work of autobiography and a powerful commentary upon American hybridity.
audience distant relative 'you are the audience you are my distant audience i address you as i would a distant relative as if a distant relative seen only heard only through someone else's description.
neither you nor i are visible to each other i can only assume that you can hear me i can only hope that you hear me'
from TEMPS MORTS 64 ‘purposefully. crossing the “enemy” line. the enemy. before the conception the meaning of word “enemy” and already enemy. my mother’s my father’s my mother’s mother father my father’s father mother. if i had children theirs as well if the conditions were such. in search of through which finally my own proper identity can be retrieved. through the enforcement of identity here the doubling of identity the double estrangement asset: invisibility of another tongue the tongue now permanently forgotten would be no shame to have to have known. to have had to have utilized.’
from i have time 125 ‘this is my home. this is my knee. he said this one breath. at least, there was no difference in value of these two things. my home and my knee. it feels the same sharpness as this wind rising the empty rooms a low hum an echo. would you read this would you read my book when it’s finished if you understand the new york times the assassination article of your president would you understand this there is no subject there is no predicate there is no direct object there is no grammar there is no article. all the years you spent here all the literature courses you studied is this what they taught you i can’t understand a thing my dictionary has no translation of this. this is the essay this is the fiction this is the poetry this is the novel this is the writing you have been waiting for. keep it covered say that it is strange that’s enough enough for me. didn’t you tell me not to read camus because the young students were committing suicide? didn’t you tell me the young students were committing suicide. were you afraid. i already knew didn’t you ask me why do you write only poems can’t you write a novel an epic all the lovely lunches. cravings for a taste resemblance of childhood.’
---
Yet, the rigid obsessive order skirts of measured lengths interdiction of crossed knees, pearl earrings, patent leather shows, dances on campus, frosted hair single file synchronized gestures: kneeling, opening and closing desks, steps down to lunch, curtsy. Primes, monday morning court processes, medals and detentions, white gloves.
I found this volume of collected works by Cha at the Berkeley Art Museum which is appropriate as the University of California Press published Dictee Cha’s final work and she spent many productive years studying and working on the Berkeley campus. Born in Korea she came with her family to the USA in 1964 and as a young teen she straddled these very different worlds. One of her greatest themes was experiencing dispossession as an unseen minority in America and also as woman.
I am thankful that the editors compiled these disparate materials together in this volume because I was so taken with Dictee that I appreciated getting a flavor of the origin story. However, I wouldn’t start here when reading Cha. Start with Dictee. If that book doesn’t wow you then don’t pass Go. Cha’s work isn’t very approachable. It is compelling, captivating and monumental but if story, plot and character are things you crave then she isn’t for you. If you are tantalized and captivated and blown away by the avant garde, then Dictee and Cha is definitely worth your time.
I WILL NEVER NOT RECOMMEND THIS BOOK TO A FELLOW POETRY ENTHUSIAST.
Perhaps I love it a little more with my personal identity bias as a Korean American student who also attends Berkeley and takes French classes. Wonderful read, can be a bit muddling in between. love her ability to weave between the borders of language to transcend literary expression. Forever an inspirational book.
Pretty unbearable. If you are a fan of Dictee, and want to stay a fan of Cha, you should probably skip the slight pieces in this book. Only worth it for the excellent foreword by Ed Park; reserved for the Cha completists.