What is your standard for a good piece of translation?
THLM: There is always a pull between ‘the spirit’ and ‘the letter’ in translation, as Anthea Bell, translator of W.G. Sebald, says. If a piece reads well and does not deviate too much from the original, then I would consider it a good translation.
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As an editor and founder of Cha, do you have some specific rules about what should be published and what shouldn't? In other words, do you think that every poet has the freedom to write on any issue or topic in their works? .
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THLM: No specific rules. Rules kill originality and creativity. We publish good works, as simple as that. There are so many rules in our lives: physical, moral, legal. Aren’t we stifled enough already?
In your work 'Libraries', there is a description about how a couple decides to arrange their books – whether it should be done by category or by height. For librarians, placing books into related categories is their main responsibility. However, in the poem one character wants to arrange their books by height. I would like to ask if there is any special meaning about arranging books by height for creating a systematic image in the poem?
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THLM: The poem is a dialogue between two people about how their books should be arranged. One can assume that they are moving in together – hence the discussion. Tension emerges when it is revealed that they have rather different opinions about how to arrange books. One of them (‘Me’) is in favour of ordering them in terms of height and the other (‘You’) prefers grouping the books in categories. How will they reconcile this? The arrangement of books can be seen as a metaphor for the arrangement of life. After all, we all need some order in our lives.
Your question (‘if there is any special meaning about arranging books by height for creating a systematic image in the poem’) is insightful but I am afraid I didn’t think of it when I was writing the poem. I used that image (books arranged in terms of height) because some people often adopt this approach to create a pleasingly tidy feel.
What did you and other contributors of Cha do to enhance the journal's readership?
THLM: We do a number of things to increase our readership – one thing I think we do quite well is to run
small contests to encourage people to submit works to the journal and to read what is already published. But nothing works better than word of mouth to enhance a publication’s readership, especially for a wee online journal like ours.
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In your poem 'Newest, Hottest, Tallest, the Most London', the 'boyfriend' is quite aggressive and active in confirming the relationship between him and the girl. Do you feel that men are active and women are passive in love? What is your opinion about men's and women’s roles in romantic relationships in modern society?
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THLM: I think you may have slightly misinterpreted the poem. The boyfriend is not 'aggressive'. He is in love. So is the persona, who uninhibitedly and explicitly addresses the boy as her ‘boyfriend’ in the opening and last stanzas. Throughout the piece, we get a sense that she enjoys and welcomes his attention. True, it seems that the boy takes the initiative in the relationship, but it doesn’t mean that the girl is more passive. I think she embraces their romance as eagerly as he does.
In terms of my own feelings regarding romantic relationships, I am not sure that we need to be bound by traditional gender roles.
In your poem ‘I Lay Curled on the Sofa’, you mentioned that ‘I pretended my mother hadn't been talking’, does this line mean that the relationship between you and your mother is not intimate? How can you repair the relationship? Can it be the inspiration for your next poems?
THLM: My mother and I love each other, although of course every now and then we may have disagreements (just like any mother and daughter, I imagine). These situations have become sparser and sparser, especially since my mum and I do not see one another very often these days and we treasure it when we do spend time together. That said, it would be disingenuous of me to say that there is not some mimesis of my relationship with my mother in the poem, which describes a moment of mother-daughter alienation precipitated by the intrusion of modern technology (‘two screens’).
What is your favourite literary form (e.g. poetry, the short story, the novel)? What do you think is the strength of your favourite form when compared with the others?.
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THLM: My favourite form is poetry. I don’t think one literary form necessarily has strength over other forms. So long as the form serves to convey what the writer wants to say, that is good enough.
Your MPhil thesis discusses the relationship between literature and linguistics in prose fiction. How do you see the relationship between poetry and language?
THLM: That is a big question but a short answer will suffice. Poetry is inherent in language – you can find poetry in the most unexpected places if you care to look.
What were your goals in founding Cha? What are your target readers? Do you agree that works defined as 'Asian literature' have something in common? If so, what are they?
THLM: The main goal for me and my co-editor (Jeff Zroback) in founding Cha was to promote Asian literature. We also hoped to introduce Hong Kong literature to more people. I would say my target readers are literate people. I don’t care about a reader’s gender, race, nationality, sexual orientation or place of domicile. I welcome all, and want all.
Asian literary works have
something in common, that’s for sure. For example, Asian writers like to write about food and intergenerational relationships. As the writer
Oliver Farry once said, ‘Asian films make me hungry because they tend to have more scenes of food preparation than Western films’.
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I do not really like generalisations. Once you begin to list the characteristics of a group of work, you are imposing limitations. If I read submissions with preconceptions and expectations in mind, that would be doing a disservice to individual pieces.
Since the mother tongue of most Hong Kong people is Cantonese, do you think Hong Kong literature in English is less able to arouse the interest of Hong Kong people, when compared with Hong Kong literature in Chinese or Cantonese? Would you please also tell me which you prefer and the reasons of your choice?
THLM: I think it is hard to arouse Hong Kong people with any form of literature, not just literature in English. Despite the devoted efforts of many people in the education and literary sectors, I am afraid Hong Kong is ultimately not a very literary city. Said another way, Hong Kong is largely literature-apathetic. Gross consumerism is deeply rooted in the society. But that doesn’t mean one should not try to get people interested in writing and art. One mustn’t give up.
I prefer literature in English – this may sound unpatriotic or pretentious but life is short (I am becoming more and more acutely aware of myself getting old) and I do not regret devoting myself to this one thing I love. I also see no need to justify my choice.
What is your perspective towards Hong Kong literature written in English? Do you think the use of English hinders the presentation and interpretation of the essence of Hong Kong or wei dao 味道 can only be reflected in Cantonese (i.e. the original language for some colloquial words or songs)?
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THLM: I believe a skilful writer will be able to incorporate Hong Kong’s ‘flavour’ in his or her writing, whatever the language. Think, for example, Louise Ho and the late
Leung Ping-kwan and younger writers such as Nicholas Y.B. Wong.
Lesser writers will struggle. They will have to try to find a way (and if they persist, they will) or not write at all.
Nowadays, Hong Kong literature in English seems very uncommon. What arouses your interest in putting so much effort into its promotion? Do you believe that the potential of Hong Kong literature in English is being underestimated?
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THLM: One big motivation for me to work on Cha is my love for literature – this may sound grandiose but there is glamour in literature yet.
Do I believe the potential of Hong Kong literature is underestimated? Underestimated by whom? By the writers themselves? I hope not. By the Hong Kong government? Yes. I don’t think the Hong Kong government is doing enough to encourage, foster and promote Hong Kong writers and literature. Perhaps they are in such deep political shite that literature is for them something as distant as the thermosphere. The government does offer some token gestures to pretend they care but do they really? How can we possibly expect people to appreciate Hong Kong writers and Hong Kong literature when our government turns a near blind eye? Win something big, win something international –
that will get them interested – but otherwise the government's interest in supporting writing is minimal.
Some may define 'Hong Kong literature' as literature that is written about and for Hong Kong. However, I have read some of your poems online as well as some poems in Cha, and some of them do not make reference to things and places in Hong Kong and are actually not about the city. How would you define 'Hong Kong literature'? What is your criteria for choosing writers/poets?
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THLM: It is not
Cha’s goal to only publish Hong Kong literature, although we may run a special issue that focuses on it at some point. At
Cha, we aim at promoting Asian literature in general, of which Hong Kong literature is a subcategory. As for my own poetry, I don’t write as nearly enough about the city as I would like and I would love to devote more time to the subject. Unfortunately, due to my other commitments, it is very difficult to find time to write any poetry, let alone poetry about Hong Kong. (A recent poem of mine about Hong Kong is titled
‘Hong Kong Public Etiquette’ and can be found in
Berfrois.)
No matter how many times I am asked to define Hong Kong literature, I still don’t have a satisfactory answer. Yet broadly speaking, Hong Kong literature refers to works written by self-identified Hong Kong writers, who could be any of following (or a combination of several of the following): 1) locally born; 2) ethnically Hong Kong/Chinese; 3) living in the city or 4) expats.
We do not choose the writers/poets. Instead, we choose the pieces. We have a ‘blind reading’ approach to assess submitted pieces – the editors and guest editors read the works without knowing the identity of the authors.
As for the selection criteria, we are more flexible with poetry and poems do not necessarily need to be Asian-themed. We are stricter with prose pieces – they have to have some connection with Asia. This may sound a little arbitrary but we have found this approach to be productive and also suitable for the journal’s aesthetics.
What were your reasons for establishing Cha? Do you think it has achieved your goal of, say, spreading Asian literary culture? How can English speaking writers be cultivated in Hong Kong in your own opinion?
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THLM: We founded
Cha in order to promote Asian literature. Through the journal, we also hope to introduce Hong Kong literature to the wider literary community. I would say we have achieved our goal, as we have received some media attention and our readership is expanding. Works published in the journal have received recognition, been translated into other languages, led to authors receiving book contracts or have been taught at universities. We expect the journal to continue to grow. In the long run, we may consider setting up a publishing press.
I think Hong Kong provides some platforms for people who are interested in writing in English. There are writers’ groups big and small in the city; there are regular poetry reading events and there are creative writing programmes run by local universities. One just has to pay attention and go out and make oneself known to others. The size of the writers’ community here may be modest but thanks goodness such a community exists (see my previous post,
'Small and incestuous'). Its members tend to come and go – because Hong Kong is that kind of city – but this adds to its charm. You are always encountering someone new while establishing bonds, however fleeting, with others.
Compared with other world cities, I cannot really say Hong Kong is very conducive to writing. It is commercially driven, shopping-oriented and only a small percentage of its population has genuine interest in reading. People don't come here to be inspired to write, they are lured to spend money. This is disheartening. Hong Kong is an exciting city in many ways and there is so much going on. Unfortunately, cultural- and literature-wise it offers little. But I hope this will change one day – in the not too distant future.
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