November 3, 2009
“Poetry and Politics and PhDs”
I’m often bored by the likes of, you know, some typical young smart-ass undergrad student from the NUS English Literature department, attempting to comment on my works. I shouldn’t generalise, but they tend to be oh so literary, oh so clever, and oh so hopelessly trapped within the formal framework of their own academic discipline.
When they try writing poetry themselves, aaaaack, they suck. They are so eager to impress with their “craft” and “technique” that they cram every single line with big words, flowery phrases or some original but entirely ill-fitting metaphor. “See, look at me, I’m so clever” is what they’re trying to say with their poetry. Either that, or – “Give me the poetry prize! Aren’t you judges impressed yet?”
In the end, their poems feel like a model answer to a 10-year-series math question. Technically correct, sometimes even technically excellent. But also inauthentic, pretentious, soulless and quite lacking any genuine insight.
I shouldn’t be mean. Maybe they are just young and immature.
Short version of Gilbert Koh’s response:
(It was originally this, but a friend found it unaesthetic, so I changed it. I’m accommodating like that.)
For reference, here’s the review I wrote. Is there a prize for the indignant response to a review which fails most spectacularly to actually rebut anything the review said, I wonder?
September 4, 2009
I seem to hear about a lot of useful, well-known things (twitter, FB, etc.) not through the usual channels, but through JH sending me a link to something ridiculous that was posted on them. Etsy is one of them; for the longest time, I’ve thought of it only as “that site were you can buy drawings of neon and/or checkerboard penises” (NSFW). No longer:
This clock was created using a recycled Steelman record player and an old 45, which is replaceable. This clock comes complete with the original leather case and the clock movement is quartz, and requires 1 AA battery (included). The album size is a 45. The entire clock measures roughly 12″ w x 14h and hangs on the wall with 2 hangars on the back.
I’d buy one if I were in the US.
August 29, 2009
Just look at what he writes in this column, “No right to be international”:
After my reading [at the Edinburgh International Book Festival], some from the audience came up to talk a bit. Several even bought copies of the book. One kindly suggested that I distribute in the United Kingdom and become an “international” writer.
This sounds tempting. But should artists and writers become international and produce their work for overseas audiences? Or should they remain distinct even in a “world in a city”?
[. . .]
There is no melting pot for writers, even if their works are sold and read in different countries. They don’t seek to appeal to some imagined reader faraway or in transit at an airport book store. Instead, their works draw from who they are and the societies they come from.
[. . .]
Parochialism is to be avoided. But going international too often means trying to provide a standard product that can appeal across different markets. This works for industrial products and fast food. But writers and artists may be better served to remain true to themselves and distinct, even when other societies start to take interest.
“Going international too often means trying to provide a standard product that can appeal across different markets”–really? I should like to know who Tay has been reading. Did Murakami do this? Tash Aw? Rushdie? Roth, who Tay mentions earlier? How about Naipaul, that most colonised of post-colonials? All these (to varying degrees) best-selling, fashionable writers are certainly international in distribution and audience, but they can’t be accused of providing “a standard product” shorn of the local (not necessarily equivalent to “the native”). Last I checked, publishing a book in another country did not take off any of the magic fairy dust that makes one Singaporean or Trinidadian or whatever.
A more concise version might be: has Tay heard of a little thing called the “Booker”? I hear one can easily access lists of past winners via another useful novelty called “Google”. Tay may find their contents not irrelevant to his claim.
August 26, 2009
Speak Good English Movement chairman Goh Eck Kheng on people who don’t realise their English is bad:
“We want to give them (younger Singaporeans) the thought that they can communicate better, not only just be understood but also to use the language well [. . . .] I think some people don’t realise they are not speaking good English, and they don’t feel the need to speak good English because they feel they can get by with bad English, and they don’t realise that out of Singapore, they will have problems if they don’t speak English well.”
August 20, 2009
The New Republic on G.I. Joe:
Sometimes, a film defies conventional narrative and artistic standards so utterly that it seems unfair to judge it by them. G.I. Joe is such a case, a movie that has, through its own inverse accomplishment, earned the right to speak for itself. Consider this a tone poem in 40 scraps of dialogue:
You don’t ask to be a part of G.I. Joe. You get asked.
If you’re going to shoot something, kill it. Otherwise take up knitting.
The Joes will never know what hit them.
General Hawk is stable now, but he won’t be conscious for another day or two.
She was a blonde then. [. . .]
