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Cosima Bruno
SOAS University of London
1 Premise
Languages – plural – divide. Hence the need for translation. While many the-
orists take as an implicit starting point the fact that national languages are
unitary, well-defined by an outer border, and therefore liable to be exchanged
through translation, I wish to challenge this assumption here, by looking at
the work of poets of Chinese descent who write in more than one language
at once.
In her 2012 book Beyond the Mother Tongue: The Postmonolingual Condition,
Yasemin Yildiz argues that monolingualism is no longer a sustainable condi-
tion. It relates to European nation building in the eighteenth century, when
it had the aim of fixing a cultural identity to serve the purpose of the mod-
ern nation. We currently live in postmonolingual times, she argues. On a simi-
lar line, Naoki Sakai asks: “Is language a countable, just like an apple and an
orange and unlike water? Is it not possible to think of language, for example, in
terms of those grammars in which the distinction of the singular and the plural
is irrelevant?” (Sakai 2009, 73). Jan Blommaert argues that multilingualism –
by which he means that repertoire of language varieties, accents, registers,
genres, etc., needs to be studied as a matter of capital importance, it “should
not be seen as a collection of ‘languages’ that a speaker controls, but rather
as a complex of specific semiotic resources” (Blommaert 2010, 102), defining
“stakes for language in society,” “social barriers and gateways for social mobil-
ity,” and regulating through language (138).
Most of us agree that Chinese, as all national languages, is constitutively
multiple and heterogenous,1 and that the question of monolingualism (as its
opposite multilingualism) can be thought of as an artificial construct. Yet it
1 Historically, “modern Chinese” was officialized in 1932, following the fall of the Qing dynasty,
the establishment of the Republic of China in 1912, and the numerous attempts to unify the
diversity of spoken and written languages and speeches that were thought of as unintelligible
to each other. As Lau Kin-chi, Hui Po-keung and Chan Shun-hing remind us, “the so-called
Standard Modern Chinese normalized the incorporation of Europeanized syntax and dic-
tion and other hybrid elements in the contending discourses of the building of a national
identity, the quest for modernization, and the promotion of class struggle and revolution”
(Lau, Hui and Chan 2001, 254). Modern Chinese was therefore thought of as a tool to pro-
duce transpersonal intelligibility, since linguistic multiplicity breaks the connection between
sound and sense. In the historical contingency of the imagined community of the Chinese
nation, among other nations, language diversity was to be rejected, because context-bound,
and thus representing an obstacle to citizens’ integration, and flawless knowledge in that
community. In the mid-20th century, Mandarin Chinese was chosen as the official language
of the People’s Republic of China, through a process of compulsory education in the whole
Chinese State. For a fascinating discussion of the essential role played by the foreign in the
production of national languages, see Berman (1984).
2 Gao is a poet, fiction writer, critic and translator based in Edinburgh. His debut poetry pam-
phlet is Wedding Beasts (2019), followed by Katabasis (2020), Travesty58 (2022), Imperium
(2022), and Bark, Archive, Splinter (2024).
3 Cynthia Miller is a well-reputed Malay-American poet, whose poem “Glitch Honorifics”
appeared in her 2021 debut poetry collection Honorifics.
Like Heptapod B from the film Arrival, I wanted to visualise the entirety
of a concept, past and present at once. Central to the plot is Sapir-Whorf
hypothesis, a theory of linguistic relativity that asserts language liter-
ally shapes how you see the world … The Hokkien that my family speaks
is a Southern Chinese language, originally from Fujian, that incorpo-
rates Bahasa, English, Mandarin, and a smattering of other dialects like
Teochow and Hakka. It’s a local Rojak dialect, from a colloquial Malay
phrase meaning ‘mixed’, and would probably be incomprehensible to
someone from the mainland. The unease lurking behind both ‘Honorifics’
and ‘Dream Opera’ is a frustration that I can understand a little but not
speak, and therefore find no entry into that world. Easier to exist in an
uprooted ‘elsewhere.’ (Miller 2020)
Similarly, Hong Kong poet Laura Jane Lee4 uses Chinese characters and trans-
literations, as in the poem “爹 deh” (father):
4 Laura Jane Lee was born in 1998 in Hong Kong and currently lives in Singapore. She writes in
English and Cantonese. Miller is also the founder of KongPoWriMo and Subtle Asian Poetry
Collective, and the author of the pamphlets flinch & air (2021), and chengyu: chinoiserie
(2020), published under her former name Rachel Ka Yin Leung.
directions: on the one side they wish to legitimize the language of privacy and
on the other side they avoid relegating it into absolute difference, through the
use of translation into English. These single words constitute brief exchanges
of a Chinese and a Chinese deviant pronunciation, simulating cultural verisi-
militude, soon disrupted by the translation into English.
Are the Chinese characters in these poems sufficient to call them Chinese,
or, better still, to call them Sinophone poems? What does the use of italic
imply?
The persona in Laura Jane Lee’s poem receives her name from her father,
an identity that she not only needs to translate, but that she also sees as
misinterpreted by the standard language. The Sinophone transliterations
distinguish the characters in their not standard usage. Standard Chinese
and mother tongue develop pidgin and creole languages, world Englishes,
code-switching and code-mixing, borrowing, interference, etc. But in Laura
Jane Lee’s poem, standard Chinese is brought into the poem’s linguistic rep-
ertoire through the misinterpretation of the father’s minor language, while
the transliteration of the characters remains non-standard. The evocative,
affective quality of the name Clear Pearl is disrupted by the inaccurate and
diminishing translation of standard Chinese. Without even physically being
in the text, standard Chinese is however the language of authority, it is offi-
cial and normative.
Theophilus Kwek’s poem “Dead Man Savings Won’t Go to Wife”5 portrays
strangeness by a defamiliarizing translation of Chinese idiomatic segments
given in italic: yijianrugu 一见如故 (your first glance was that of an old lover’s);
biyishuangfei 比翼双飞 (wings touching as we flew); qianjinmaixiao 千金买笑
( for my smile); aiwujiwu 爱屋及乌 (I loved the house and the crows that nested
there); zhiyinnanmi 知音难觅 (one who knows my voice is hard to find). At the
end of the poem, we learn that these segments are given as “loose translations
of Chinese idioms for love.”
I see this kind of multilingualism as working in a modernist fashion, that is
“to make it new,” a challenging practice of linguistic defamiliarization, borne
out by the aim of revolutionizing literary language. We can find this defamil-
iarizing use of multilingualism in Pound’s poetry, and more generally in mod-
ernism’s literary theory. For the modernist writer, multilingualism consists
5 Theophilus Kwek, “Dead Man Savings Won’t Go to Wife,” in Moving House (2020, 15–16). Kwek
is a writer and editor based in Singapore. He has been shortlisted twice for the Singapore
Literature Prize and won the New Poets’ Prize for his pamphlet The First Five Storms, pub-
lished in 2017. He is also the author of many essays on migration and citizenship.
of several artistic languages (e.g. plastic and sonorous), and different forms
of expression and linguistic approaches; it is aimed at counterbalancing the
inaptitude of verbal language to match and change the world. Pound deliber-
ated that no single language is quite enough and that “it can’t be all in one
language” (Pound 1975, 583), hence the need for different languages and for
different modes of expression to be used comprehensively, so as to achieve a
more thorough understanding of reality. Thus, the modernists’ use of transla-
tion and multilingualism had the specific aim of innovating literary language.
Whether they use italics or not, these poets write in a multilingual format.
Where do we draw a line with the foreignness of a language? How can we
resolve to call this writing just “Sinophone,” or “English,” or “Chinese”? Sakai’s
words keep lurking into my mind: “the unity of a language is represented
always in relation to another unity. It is never given in itself, but in relation
to another,” “nothing starts until we come across the foreign” (Sakai 2009, 83).
3 Nontranslation
6 As Emily Apter discusses in relation to Spitzer’s multilingual writing, the multilingual text
is a nontranslation that “is not an argument against translation per se but, rather, a bid to
make language acquisition a category imperative of translatio studii. A profound respect for
foreignness as the sign of that which is beyond assimilation within language itself.” Emily
Apter (2003, 278).
7 Mary Jean Chan were born and raised in Hong Kong and currently live in Oxford, where they
also work as senior lecturer in creative writing at Oxford Brookes University. Their collection
Flèche (London: Faber & Faber, 2019) won the 2019 Costa Book Award for Poetry, and was
shortlisted in 2020 for the International Dylan Thomas Prize, the John Pollard Foundation
International Poetry Prize, the Jhalak Prize and the Seamus Heaney Centre First Collection
Poetry Prize. In 2021, Flèche was a Lambda Literary Award Finalist. Chan’s poems have been
translated into multiple languages, including Italian, Chinese, Japanese, Arabic, Galician,
Greek and Romanian. Part of the observations made on Chan and Howe, below, are also
published in another essay of mine: Cosima Bruno (2024, 319-331).
soon recognize that the language used is mainly English, with some Chinese.
The poet early on explains the use of English as due to the postcolonial con-
dition of the persona. In the “Preface,” we find a footnote, in which the poet
refers to the 1842 Treaty of Nanjing, which stipulated the cession of Hong Kong
to the British Empire as a Crown colony, in the aftermath of the First Opium
War. Further down the volume, at a glance, we can see a few Chinese charac-
ters embedded in English sentences, like in “Written in a Historically White
Space (I)”:
The reader stares at my 皮膚 and asks: why don’t you write in 中文? I
reply: 殖民主義 meant that I was brought up in your image. Let us be
honest. Had I not learnt 英文 and come to your shores, you wouldn’t be
reading this poem at all. Did you think it was an accident that I learnt
your 語言 for decades, until I knew it better than the 母語I dreamt in?
(Chan 2019, 43)
Through a more minute reading, we can notice that while the English here
functions as basis, morphologically, syntactically, and grammatically coher-
ent, the Chinese characters have all specific meanings of otherization, that is
a collision between the subject and the intended monolingual reader: “skin” (
皮膚), “Chinese” (中文), “colonialism” (殖民主義), “English” (英文), “language”
(語言), “mother tongue” (母語). Similarly, the title of the collection, as well
as of its three sections – “parry,” “riposte” and “corps-à-corps” – are all French
terms used in fencing to indicate dueling techniques. As general framework of
the collection, fencing sets a text world in which two persons of the same sex
synchronically duel with one another, providing a consonant setting for both
the theme of queer lovemaking (further emphasized by the double entendre
created by the homophony between flèche and flesh), and that one of the inter-
cultural translational battle, where the body is site of the border and boundary
between I and you, Chinese, English, French, mother tongue and language of
Empire.
We can conclude that the French and the Chinese words in Flèche do not
have the purpose of just marking different languages for the sake of portraying
a multilingual context – which could be done by using any Chinese character
or French word. For Chan, multilingualism is there to mark a differential iden-
tity. Writing in English is the result of a power relationship, where the colo-
nized uses the language of the colonizer. But English is not just a matter of
necessity; it is the medium to build her struggle and talk back to the colonizer:
Let us be honest. Had I not learnt 英文 and come to your shores, you
wouldn’t be reading this poem at all. (Chan 2019, 43)
The heteroglossia of the fragment “worker’s child,” marked with italic to indi-
cate they are voiced, subvocalized fragments, from the “foreign” language of
Maoist speech, emphasizes alterity. This is the native language from which
Chan also departs. Chan’s native language is not their mother’s Shanghainese.
Their native language, the language to which they were exposed since child-
hood may be Cantonese, or the equally colonizing standard Chinese and
English. To borrow Yildiz’s words, we can state that Chan’s collection situates
itself in the “postmonolingual condition,” “writing beyond the concept of the
mother tongue.” At the same time, Chan also engenders a “postmonolingual
mode of reading” which is “a mode of reading that is attentive to both multilin-
gual practices and the monolingual paradigm” (Yildiz 2012, 21).
Chan transposes the friction among colonizers’ languages in their
border-crossing poems. They use English as a language acquired by birth into
a colonial social setting, marked by a dynamic of economic and/or cultural
power relationship. English is not the mother tongue, but it is learned through
education, migration, and travel. Their poetry not only reflects a certain social
condition that is multilingual (the migrant author happens to be writing and
living in the translingual environment of a multilingual city), it also entertains
a one-to-one discussion with the reader.
Yip construes alterity within a monolingual text, while also playing with the
word “free,” which may be read as bearing extra meaning from the perspective
of a colonial language.
From her mixed cultural background, Sarah Howe9 plays with orientalism
in her collection Loop of Jade (2015), which takes Jorge Luis Borges’ 1942 essay
“The Analytical Language of John Wilkins” as its interface. John Wilkins was a
seventeenth-century philosopher, who attempted to devise a universal scien-
tific language, based, according to Borges, on an ancient Chinese taxonomy of
animals, entitled Celestial Emporium of Benevolent Knowledge. Borges lists 14
taxonomical categories allegedly discovered by the translator Franz Kuhn and
concludes that all attempts at describing the universe through one language
are arbitrary and futile. Howe adopts the same 14-category structure as alleg-
edly the Emporium had, presenting autobiographical yet fantastical poems
full of orientalist images that define a liminal incantatory world of real and
imagination, as childhood memories and transmitted family stories usually do.
In the poem “Crossing from Guangdong,” for example, translational processes
overlap generations, places and worlds, where the Whitehall and the Cenotaph
are found in the streets of China.
Howe’s is a multi-layered meaning in constant flux, continuously trans-
lated, with no path connecting the particular to the universal, the known to
the unknown. Her Cantonese mother’s tongue and her Shanghainese grand-
mother’s tongue entangle with each other. The Cantonese in:
8 Hong Kong poet Eric Yip speaks Cantonese and Mandarin, and writes in English. He was
the youngest National Poetry Competition at 19, as the author of “Fricatives,” written while
studying at the University of Cambridge. Eric Yip, “Fricatives,” Varsity 21 April (2022),
https://www.varsity.co.uk/arts/23534.
9 Howe was born in Hong Kong in 1983 to an English father and a Chinese mother, who
migrated to the UK when Sarah was seven years old.
and an old woman met by chance on a bus in Datong could have well been
her grandmother, who she never met, speaking in a dialect she does not
understand.
Languages, texts and places are continuously crossed and translated, with-
out pretense of an exchange, or an orderly resolution. This is effectively articu-
lated in the poem “(l) Others,” which starts with a quotation from Genesis and
carries on reflecting on the matter of genetic inheritance:
4 Final Remarks
10 In fact, Reine Meylaerts laments the fact that multilingual writing constitutes a blind spot
in Translation Studies (2010, 227–30).
The excerpts above are from multilingual poems because from the start the
poets present different proportions of languages in the same textual space.
They complicate the global hegemony of the dominant language, by way of
a translative act that accounts for their different proportions of languages. If
monolingual translation can be thought of as a bridge that takes a national
language or national culture to another in temporal and spatial sequence, the
multilingual text cannot be thought of as a bridge, but as a translation that
continuously switches between one or more linguistic nations, alternating
themselves in the same textual space, at the same time. In precisely their lin-
guistic asymmetry and inequality, these multilingual poems can convey the
irreducible heterogeneity of linguistic and cultural situations, in which trans-
lation can never simply be communication between equals. Although still
expressing a desire for the capital of English, translation in the multilingual
text demystifies, rather than mystifies the dominant language.
Multilingual poetry does not signal exhaustive translatability or transpar-
ency, as we would find in monolingual translations, rather it conveys partial
opacity or illegibility of writing in multiple languages. The reader of the multi-
lingual text either knows the languages the text is written in or knows one lan-
guage and not the other. For the latter kind of reader, the multilingual text may
feel defamiliarizing, but, I argue, not necessarily alienating. To such defamiliar-
izing text the reader may react with curiosity towards the portion of text he or
she does not understand, or may succumb to ignorance. In each of these cases,
however, reading the multilingual poem is for the reader a moment of realiza-
tion, in the cognitive comparative processing of different languages, which we
may call “translation.”11 As Blumczynski (2016, 40) reminds us, quoting Berman:
“It is the drive to translate that makes the translator a translator … This drive
may arise of its own or be awakened by another person” (Berman 2009, 58).
In the multilingual text, we find not a relationship between a multilingual
translator and a monolingual reader, but something, instead, like the multilin-
gual writer and reader as translators.
These multilingual poems show a kind of linguistic relativism that enables
us to see others and, within some limits, to communicate with them. In this
way it reassesses our ethnocentrism, by adding (rather than substituting)
more than one culture, more than one material structure, as well as emo-
tional sphere, in other words, more than one symbolic system. Even if the
English-language persona superimposes itself on all the others, or if we cannot
retrieve an original unitary persona, in the multilingual poem there are the
11 Brian Lennon argues in favor of this understanding of the reader of what he calls “strong
bilingual or plurilingual text” (2010, 75).
seeds of other languages, idioms that are private and public, forms of experi-
ence that present not one but two, three, four personae.
The multilingual poem thus discredits the authoritarian impersonal truth
of a national language in its claimed accessibility to all, posing the question:
how do those who do not share the same language declinate and communicate
their own experience? It is through a language that shows the relation to other
languages, that is in a multilingual language.
In the cracks of multiple language-worlds, we find not the transparency of
the monolingual translation, but multilingualism in translation. As Lennon
considers, in the multilingual text “translation is already, and in advance,
denied – but also, in an important way, already performed” (2010, 74).
Multilingual poetry ensues from complicated relations of proximity to
and distance from the writing languages. From the perspective of the writer,
multilingual poetry is often produced by migrants and exiles, with a translin-
gual experience and actual multilingual use of language. Performing multiple
speeches, rubbing deviant against standard idioms, these multilingual poems
constitute a dynamic form of cultural porosity that communicates at the elu-
sive point of discontinuity (Sakai 2009, 72), mistranslation, and incompatibil-
ity. These multilingual poems mark cultural difference, incorporating a variety
of languages, they represent different centers of power, including forms of ver-
nacular, familial, standard and vehicular languages, as well as translation and
transposition of literary references and myths, single words, sentences, or brief
segments of dialogues.
I have started by looking at the kind of multilingualism used in these poems:
what languages (French, English, machine language, Mandarin, Chinese famil-
ial vernacular, Hokkien, Hebrew, Cantonese, Maospeak); what kind of mark-
ers (italic, in-text translation, pinyin); what kind of words; what status, what
accent and form? Along the way, I have distinguished two kinds of aesthetic
use of multilingualism, to conclude that these texts radically change the way
the reader shares and develops knowledge. Here we are not in the presence of
a specific decoding of a message contained in a visible text and reformulated
in another language. We are instead in the presence of a process that compli-
cates and facilitates intercultural relations and the transmission of knowledge.
Thus, translation in this chapter has been conceived as a practice of writing
and reading with many implications for views of culture, and personal and
collective identity.12 In all of these works we can recognize similar thematic
12 Readers less familiar with this conception of translation and wishing to find out more can
consult comprehensive studies on this by Ricoeur, Blumczynski, Hermans, Tymoczko,
Geertz, Gentzler and more.
Works Cited