An explosive, devastating debut book of poetry from the acclaimed author of The Boat
In his first international release since the award-winning, best-selling The Boat, Nam Le delivers a shot across the bow with a book-length poem that honors every convention of diasporic literature—in a virtuosic array of forms and registers—before shattering the form itself.
In line with the works of Claudia Rankine, Cathy Park Hong, and Theresa Hak Kyung Cha, this book is an urgent, unsettling reckoning with identity—and the violence of identity. For Le, a Vietnamese refugee in the West, this means the assumed violence of racism, oppression, and historical trauma.
But it also means the violence of that assumption. Of being always assumed to be outside one’s home, country, culture, or language. And the complex violence—for the diasporic writer who wants to address any of this—of language itself.
Making use of multiple tones, moods, masks, and camouflages, Le’s poetic debut moves with unpredictable and destabilizing energy between the personal and the political. As self-indicting as it is scathing, hilarious as it is desperately moving, this is a singular, breakthrough book.
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"Nam Le’s exhilarating 36 Ways of Writing a Vietnamese Poem is not just highly inventive but deeply compelling. The lively poetics of the book goes something like this: “The house in my head / I name home. / Though where I’m really from / The dead bird stays dead.” The poems move swiftly in a kind of syncopated telegraphic language creating a direct confrontation with all that they interrogate, braiding language, culture, translation, migration, history, and poetry itself. The writing is lyrical, musical, intelligent, and beautiful. It’s a great book."
— Peter Gizzi, author of Fierce Elegy
Exquisitely crafted fire bombs of incandescent rage. Moving and powerful.
— Nick CaveExquisitely crafted fire bombs of incandescent rage. Moving and powerful.
— Nick CaveEach poem in 36 Ways of Writing a Vietnamese Poem stings as if Nam Le burned syllables onto the page with a pyrographic pen. These poems seethe and sing; they restlessly shapeshift as Nam Le tries to find a mode of speech or form that could capture the violent history of war and the experience of deracination. But the English language stops short and he captures that gap—and the unspeakable realms of racialized consciousness—with virtuousic and ineffable beauty.
— Cathy Park Hong, author of Minor FeelingsA masterly performance. With defiant playfulness and wit Nam Le dramatises for us (for 'You') the challenging contradictions of being a writer in the 'Unself-consciousness' of the Vietnamese diaspora.
— David Malouf, author of Remembering BabylonWhere do we locate meaning when we know a word can collapse in on itself at any moment, leaving just the earthy music at its core? Somehow these poems have me dancing above that sinkhole, flirting with its mayhem. Nam Le’s debut collection 36 Ways of Writing a Vietnamese Poem is, like the poet, a chimera of ferocious wit, lyricism and play. But this book is deadly serious. Le leaves no doubt that he means it. He means every word of it.
— Gregory Pardlo, author of Spectral EvidenceLe’s verve and uncanny ear for language drive this stunning collection that explores the varied and often tense ways of living as part of the Vietnamese diaspora. The book simultaneously dismantles linguistic and hegemonic forces of violence which plague the diasporic condition and also threads a fine lyric in which I felt deeply moved. In Le’s poems, I am both witness and can find myself in the larger tapestry. This book is fine electricity.
— Diana Khoi Nguyen, author of Ghost OfFrom the opening lines, I knew this book would gut me. I wasn’t wrong. 36 Ways of Writing a Vietnamese Poem is an exhaustive examination of the complex stew of emotions every displaced person experiences. In Nam Le’s deft hands, deep scholarship is transformed into a nimble, nuanced romp, replete with devastating wit, sonic acrobatics, and superb mouth feel. I’ve been waiting for this book all my diasporic life.
— Barbara Tran, author of Precedented ParrotingEach poem in 36 Ways of Writing a Vietnamese Poem stings as if Nam Le burned syllables onto the page with a pyrographic pen. These poems seethe and sing; they restlessly shapeshift as Nam Le tries to find a mode of speech or form that could capture the violent history of war and the experience of deracination. But the English language stops short and he captures that gap—and the unspeakable realms of racialized consciousness—with virtuousic and ineffable beauty.
— Cathy Park Hong, author of Minor FeelingsWhere do we locate meaning when we know a word can collapse in on itself at any moment, leaving just the earthy music at its core? Somehow these poems have me dancing above that sinkhole, flirting with its mayhem. Nam Le’s debut collection 36 Ways of Writing a Vietnamese Poem is, like the poet, a chimera of ferocious wit, lyricism and play. But this book is deadly serious. Le leaves no doubt that he means it. He means every word of it.
— Gregory Pardlo, author of Spectral EvidenceA masterly performance. With defiant playfulness and wit Nam Le dramatises for us (for 'You') the challenging contradictions of being a writer in the 'Unself-consciousness' of the Vietnamese diaspora.
— David Malouf, author of Remembering BabylonNam Le’s exhilarating 36 Ways of Writing a Vietnamese Poem is not just highly inventive but deeply compelling. The lively poetics of the book goes something like this: “The house in my head / I name home. / Though where I’m really from / The dead bird stays dead.” The poems move swiftly in a kind of syncopated telegraphic language creating a direct confrontation with all that they interrogate, braiding language, culture, translation, migration, history, and poetry itself. The writing is lyrical, musical, intelligent, and beautiful. It’s a great book.
— Peter Gizzi, author of Fierce ElegyWhere do we locate meaning when we know a word can collapse in on itself at any moment, leaving just the earthy music at its core? Somehow these poems have me dancing above that sinkhole, flirting with its mayhem. Nam Le’s debut collection 36 Ways of Writing a Vietnamese Poem is, like the poet, a chimera of ferocious wit, lyricism and play. But this book is deadly serious. Le leaves no doubt that he means it. He means every word of it.
— Gregory Pardlo, author of Spectral EvidenceWith a cool outsider’s eye, Nam Le takes the English language to pieces and reassembles it with a virtuoso ease not seen since Finnegans Wake. There is wit aplenty, of a dancing, ironic kind, but the fury and the bitterness that underlie 36 Ways come without disguise, as do its moments of aching love and loss. Nam Le is a poet working at the height of his powers. Each of his 36 poems comes with its own explosive charge; taken together, they are capable of shaking Western self-regard to its foundations.
— J.M. Coetzee, Nobel Laureate 2003Each poem in 36 Ways of Writing a Vietnamese Poem stings as if Nam Le burned syllables onto the page with a pyrographic pen. These poems seethe and sing; they restlessly shapeshift as Nam Le tries to find a mode of speech or form that could capture the violent history of war and the experience of deracination. But the English language stops short and he captures that gap—and the unspeakable realms of racialized consciousness—with virtuousic and ineffable beauty.
— Cathy Park Hong, author of Minor FeelingsWith a cool outsider’s eye, Nam Le takes the English language to pieces and reassembles it with a virtuoso ease not seen since Finnegans Wake. There is wit aplenty, of a dancing, ironic kind, but the fury and the bitterness that underlie 36 Ways come without disguise, as do its moments of aching love and loss. Nam Le is a poet working at the height of his powers. Each of the poems comes with its own explosive charge; taken together, they are capable of shaking Western self-regard to its foundations.
— J.M. Coetzee, Nobel Laureate 2003A masterly performance. With defiant playfulness and wit Nam Le dramatises for us (for 'You') the challenging contradictions of being a writer in the 'Unself-consciousness' of the Vietnamese diaspora.
— David Malouf, author of Remembering BabylonFor his debut book of poems, [Nam] Le's propulsive lyrics center the culture, language, and history of the author's native Vietnam. Refracted through 36 lenses, the poems range from a handful of words to many stanzas and pages as they probe questions of sincerity, authenticity, and legacy...A much-awaited work by an important writer of our times.
— Diego Báez, BooklistIn Nam Le's 36 Ways of Writing a Vietnamese Poem, we find a 36-headed speaker wrestling with history, inheritance, trauma, and slippery selfhood—but thankfully, self-seriousness has been sent out to pasture, and in its place, we are greeted by a quicksilver intellect that shatters every convention to create something utterly new.
— Leslie Jamison, New York MagazineBe the first to write a review about this audiobook!