Road to
East
Asia
Road to
East
Asia
Welcome to the World Wide Web Home page of Road to East Asia
York University
Vol.3, 1998-1999
Wai: Enough has been said about the Chineseness or lack of it
in your
poetry. Instead, I would like to ask if the poems are tinged with "maleness."
Notice what
Cleghorn says about "domestic sterility" and those "pianos," for example, with
references
to your poem "This Day."
I am partly facetious, of course. But is that why Shao Fei is identified as a creative "artist," rather than "Bei Dao's wife"? What does Shao Fei think? She should know. She did the cover painting for Landscape over Zero.
Bei Dao: Frankly, your question is a little strange. Concerning the
"maleness" of
my poetry, for example, I think you might have been influenced by the ongoing
advocacy
of women's rights. I have tried to read some books on this topic, but I have
found that I
basically cannot join the discussions on "isms." As far as I am concerned, the
world is beyond our full comprehension. In poetry, by the same token, there is
no room for divisions, oppressive traditions, and arbitrary, restrictive
definitions, as reflected in the controversy over "Chineseness." At times, I am
angry, but helpless. What does that have anything to do with me?
Wai:It is Chinese Australian writer Brian Castro who has
brought up
the "male" issue. He says, "I think it is . . . good to see male Chinese writers
coming to
the fore, since the predominantly female writers have given the West some false
impressions of exile and hybridity." Do you agree with him?
Bei Dao: I disagree with Brian Castro if your quotation is not taken out of context. I can't see why when "male Chinese writers [come] to the fore," they won't give the West false impressions. What commercialization demands are exactly these false impressions. What Castro says here does not apply to literature. It is commercial success. To make a product commercially viable, gender is only a kind of wrapping.
Wai: As noted by me earlier, the titular poem "Landscape over
Zero" reminds me of the opening line in T.S. Eliot's The Wasteland.
Cleghorn recognizes the element of Eastern philosophy in it, but it is the
"heat" that he stresses. Please note that the first image he has identified in
your poetry is "flames."
Bei Dao: The detailed discussion about my poetry between you and Mr. Cleghorn has aroused my curiosity, but I can't give any judgment because I don't know the exact meaning of any poem of mine. The first image noted by Mr. Cleghorn is "flame." That startled me. I don't know how he has arrived at this conclusion. Does it mean the frequency of this image's appearance? If it is, I think, perhaps that is because "flame" is very safe in my poetry. It does not radiate "heat," nor does it leave any scorched marks. I am opposed to using Eastern philosophies to explain poetry. This approach tends to add fantastical nuances and overlook the basic elements of the poetry involved. Eastern philosophies are like poetry itself. What is needed is "epiphany," but not explicit explanation.
Wai: Even as Cleghorn is delivering his brilliant analysis of
"The
Answer," citing Baudelaire and Mallarme, I am more preoccupied with the trauma
my
father and his colleagues had gone through in mainland China--quite similar to
the
experience that prompted your poem. "The Answer" is like T.S. Eliot's April,
"the
cruelest month," that stirs up painful and fond memories of my childhood. It
seems that
Cleghorn and I have personalized your poem in different ways. But have we both
done
justice to your poetry?
Bei Dao: Certainly, the interpretation of a poem depends on the individual reader. That is the starting point to appreciate art. I notice the difference in artistic appreciation between you and Cleghorn. I think he pays attention mostly to intuitive responses, and you are influenced by various concepts, for example, gender, Chineseness, Chinese tradition, and history of oppression, etc. I don't disagree that my poetry is tinged with these concepts, but if you are overly preoccupied with them, that may lessen your interest in reading.
Wai: What you have just said pertains to two questions I am
asking myself. Is knowledge of a poet's cultural backgrounds an advantage or a
burden? Is gender a factor in poetry appreciation? Well, do you agree with Angus
Cleghorn that "each poem is a landscape over zero," which refers to "the blank
page over which poetry is written, and the reader interprets"? He points out
that "death's always on the other side/watching the painting" ("Old Places"),
which is the landscape over zero. Agree?
Bei Dao: Every poet in his entire life is writing one poem. In this respect, I agree with Cleghorn. What each poem can add to this landscape is limited. If the writing is not worthwhile, it may obscure the view of this landscape.
Wai: Do you agree with Cleghorn's interpretation of "This Day"?
He thinks it is "a great poem."
Bei Dao: I feel that Cleghorn has given a meaningful interpretation of "This Day." He is certainly a serious reader. I am interested in all serious readers because only they can provide a bridge to the author. I often delve further into the meaning of my work because of the explanation given by serious readers. During the creative process, I may not have been aware of all the implied meanings. The readers help to clarify what is intended.
Wai: In the "Foreword" to Abandoned wine, Gary Snyder
agrees with Liu Ziafu that "reincarnation is difficult," but adds that it is not
impossible.
Yes, I think Liu's essay ends on a positive note: a tribute to nature's
regenerative force.
This new body is a lotus flower, which is associated with the "female buddha" in
Chinese
folklore. Do you agree? To what extent do you think the image of "solitary lotus
flower"
in muddy ponds is an appropriate tribute to the achievements of the exiles? Does
"solitary" imply the state of mind or the quantity of "lotus flowers"?
Bei Dao:My knowledge of Eastern philosophies is limited; the less I talk about them, the better.
Wai: I agree with Snyder that "And to be unsure, to be between
stances, between certainties, is always the freshest, the most creative place to
be!" He
might cherish the "soul-home-sickness" of the exile in your poem "Theme" in
Landscape over Zero. Are you and Liu Zaifu expressing similar sentiments
of the
exilic experience? Both of you seem to write about two worlds--your homeland and
host country.
Bei Dao: I don't know if Liu Zaifu and myself have described our exilic experience in a similar fashion. I doubt it. As far as a writer is concerned, there is only one world; a world that is difficult to describe. Writing, therefore, is a challenge, which at the same time stimulates the interest in creativity. An author who insists on writing in his/her native language negates the assumptions about the exiles--this person has to overcome the language barrier.
Wai: I always detect a note of optimism in your poetry. There
is hope even if it is "lost hope."
Bei Dao: As said so very well by Lu Xun, "Hope may or may not be a factor. It is like a road that is made by the many people who have walked on it."
Wai: Although some of the music and meaning of the original
text might have been lost in the process of translation, I greatly appreciate
the contributions of translators. They are also couriers between cultures.
Sometimes they have rendered certain tantalizing qualities of the poet's
thoughts in expressions not available or possible in the original language. Do
you agree?
Bei Dao: Of course. Your earlier reference to "reincarnation" recalls what Octavio Paz once said: "Translation is a kind of reincarnation." In addition, Gary Snyder notes that reincarnation is difficult, "But not impossible."
Wai: Liu Binyan, in A Higher Kind of Loyalty, writes: ".
. . it
is only on the mainland that I am in my element." Can you be in your element
outside
China? Could you be in your element inside China?
Bei Dao: I could not and cannot be in my element inside or outside China, I am afraid. I believe that is the first step to become a writer.
Note: Bei Dao gave his answers in Chinese. I would like to thank my brother,
Wai Kwok-Sing, for his advice during the process of rendering the poet's
responses into
English, but all errors of judgment are mine.