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A review by kierscrivener
Black Dog, Black Night: Contemporary Vietnamese Poetry by Paul Hoover
emotional
reflective
medium-paced
4.0
I began this gorgeous collection of translated contemporary poetry in May of 2019 and was immediately in tears. I carried it with me, all summer, returning it every nine weeks as the library required
Each time flipping open to the first poem The Purple Colour of Sim Flowers and rereading the words by Huu Loan that made me weep
on a rainy forest evening
three brothers in the northeast battle
heard news of their sister's death
before news of her wedding
I have countless lines and full poems transcribed in various notebooks, apps and videos. I had dedicated threads in an old computer and phone with poignant lines that are now lost. But even if I still could gather every note taken, I don't think I could capture what this book holds for me
Two years is a long time. It has crossed the province in several directions, joined me in waiting rooms of doctor offices and lobbies of social services and started numerous conversations and gave me a window into twentith century Vietnam and into emotions that are universal
I have lost much by reading the poems separated but I have also memorized sections by reading them again and again.
—
my father's body is a map
a record of his journey
he carries a bullet
lodged in his thigh
there is a hollow where it entered
a protruding bump where it sleeps
the doctors say it will never awaken
it is the one souvenir he insists on keeping
mother has her own opinions
bô cua con điên — your father is crazy
–
I love Hanoi even though it's empty without you
-
the past generation has gone
by ways various and new
–
i've located you to a letter of the alphabet do not think it wrong of me it is by no means a reduction of your being this is done only so i may address you free of inhibitions found in a name
Each time flipping open to the first poem The Purple Colour of Sim Flowers and rereading the words by Huu Loan that made me weep
on a rainy forest evening
three brothers in the northeast battle
heard news of their sister's death
before news of her wedding
I have countless lines and full poems transcribed in various notebooks, apps and videos. I had dedicated threads in an old computer and phone with poignant lines that are now lost. But even if I still could gather every note taken, I don't think I could capture what this book holds for me
Two years is a long time. It has crossed the province in several directions, joined me in waiting rooms of doctor offices and lobbies of social services and started numerous conversations and gave me a window into twentith century Vietnam and into emotions that are universal
I have lost much by reading the poems separated but I have also memorized sections by reading them again and again.
—
my father's body is a map
a record of his journey
he carries a bullet
lodged in his thigh
there is a hollow where it entered
a protruding bump where it sleeps
the doctors say it will never awaken
it is the one souvenir he insists on keeping
mother has her own opinions
bô cua con điên — your father is crazy
–
I love Hanoi even though it's empty without you
-
the past generation has gone
by ways various and new
–
i've located you to a letter of the alphabet do not think it wrong of me it is by no means a reduction of your being this is done only so i may address you free of inhibitions found in a name