An Interview
AL: Can you describe your first moment of awakening as a
poet? Did identity politics play any role in this initial awakening ? Can you
remember what your first "serious" poem was about? If identity
politics did not immediately play a role during your early calling as a poet,
when did you begin to gain a more politicized sensibility and what prompted it?
N: My father was fond of reciting lines from classical and
modern Spanish poets like Francisco de Quevedo, Luis de Gongora, and Gustavo
Adolfo Becquer that related to every day situations and my childhood was filled
with phrases like—
Por una
mirada un mundo;
por una sonrisa, un cielo;
por un beso.
. . yo no se
que te diera
por un beso!
-GA Becquer
It was not until after my father died in 2008 that I realized
that those lines of poetry came from the books he kept in his personal library.
He also retold the tales of Alexandre Dumas and would add his own sound track
to The Three Musketeers by singing the William Tell Overture by Gioachino
Rossini. In the Count of Monte Christo he would sing Ludwig Van Beethoven’s Ode
to Joy. So the words of the Golden Age of Spain and the rhythms of the great
composers of Europe helped make me a poet. I remember writing my first serious
poem and it was about the assassination of Benigno Aquino Jr. in the early
1980’s. It happens that my father was a childhood friend of the poet Rafael
Zulueta da Costa and he often came over to our house to drink and talk about
pre-war Manila. My father showed Rafael my first two or three poems and he
liked my political poem so much that he sent it to a local paper, The Manila
Bulletin, to be published. Of course, it wasn’t that good so it never came out.
But now I know that it must have been special to be championed early on as a
poet by the author of Like the Molave. Perhaps it is that book of poems by
Zulueta da Costa that laid the foundation of the politics in my poems. “Not
yet, Rizal, Not yet.” is a cry I took to heart.
AL: You mention in an interview (with Elisabetta Marino)
that you are "Filipino by birth, Spanish in citizenship, and American by
"Permanent Residence." You continue by saying: "I believe that
poetry was the most immediate form of art that could express this complicated
self." Can you elaborate on the last sentence? What do you mean by
"most immediate" and how does that lend itself to better
expressing the "complicated self"? How is poetry
"immediate"? And how do reconcile any presumably opposing
assumptions/beliefs/practices/tastes/etc. within your hybridized identity?
N: From my adopted father I received my Spanish passport and
from my adopted mother I received my Greek view of the world. I also carry the
name Stilianopoulos in my passport and that really complicates my presence in
any environment. I can cook a good moussaka, delicious dolmades, savory
souvlaki, and a sumptuous avgolemono soup. But what really makes me feel Greek
is having access to Nikos Kazantzakis, Constantine Cavafy, Yannis Ritsos,
Giorgos Seferis, and Odysseus Elytis. I can say I may also have
a very euro-centric/western love of poetry but it is a euro-centrism that is
more informed than current white American poets of European descent who
complain about “the loss of classic western literature.” If you were to look at
my poetry through the lens of the New Critics, the Filipino, Spanish, and
American would not come out in the lines outside of direct cultural reference
in the texts. What I consider as immediate is an emotional connection to the
lines. If that happens in the reader, the poem succeeds. So, that takes the
poem from merely descriptive to unusually universal.
AL: Can you describe the genesis of 'Returning a Borrowed
Tongue'? How did the idea come about, why did you decide to take on the
project, how did you select the contributors, and what kinds of challenges did
you face during the entire process of producing the anthology?
N: That was the first anthology I put together and I did it
before email and the web became popular. Most of it was done through the post
and took about two years before the manuscript came together. I still have most
of the correspondence somewhere in my archives and it contains letters from
many pioneering Filipino poets that are now dead like NVM Gonzalez, Bienvenido
N. Santos, Edith Tiempo, Carlos Angeles, and Manuel Viray. The impetus to put it together came
from the fear that I would be the only Filipino poet publishing in an ocean of
whiteness so I wrote to my contacts in Manila and one poet led to another. I
remember having long phone conversations with NVM Gonzalez and he helped form
many of the connections.
AL: You admit in your interview with Elisabetta Marino that your
editing work hinders your poetry writing. And yet, you have continued to edit
anthologies on Filipino American literature because "the necessity of
publishing more Filipino related material for a world where there was no
previous representation takes over the creative impulse. If Filipino literature
does not succeed, my own poems will have little worth without the accompaniment
of my fellow writers." It seems that there's a lot to unpack in this statement.
First, must poetry and other writing (especially perhaps by people of color)
necessarily be approached and envisioned as a collective endeavor? Must there
be an alignment of at least political (if not creative) goals amongst Fil Am
writers in order to gain "success" (however that can be defined --
whether positive critical reception, a wider audience, mainstream acceptance,
etc.). Why is this so?
N: My first wife used to complain that I devoted too much time
on other people’s careers than focusing on making myself more famous. I think
she was envious of all the attention I was getting from these young Asian women
and she put a stop to some of that. But isn’t it the job of the teacher to
inspire and to mentor. I believe in the raison d’etre of organizations like
Cave Canem and Kundiman who foster the talents of poets of color. To experience
the feeling of belonging is a natural necessity and experiencing this belonging
with a bunch of poets that look like you can be mind-blowing.
AL: It's curious (and rather sad) that in all three
anthologies of Fil Am literature you've edited, you've always seemed compelled
to provide an overview of Filipino history and its colonial ties to the U.S. in
order to combat invisibility and cultural amnesia while at the same time
stressing Fil Am lit's importance and inextricable connection to American lit.
You also suggest (by quoting Oscar V. Campomanes -- p. XIV of Borrowed Tongue)
that America's unwillingness to acknowledge and confront the hypocrisy in its
imperialist history is one reason for the persistent, pervasive, and perhaps
blatantly intentional ignorance of Fil Am history and literature. So here's the
question: how can we (Fil Am writers, or Fil Ams in general) change that
overall dogged American unwillingness to confront historical hypocrisy? What do
you think is/are the secret ingredient/s for transformation? In what ways do
you think the tipping point will manifest? And why should Fil Ams even have
this sort of "moral" or "ethical" obligation or
responsibility or burden to educate whites or others in the first place? (p.s.,
I know there's a lot of big questions here, but mainly I'm just trying to get
at your philosophy or ideas on Fil Am lit as a "movement" -- so
again, feel free to approach this section in any way you like).
N: Yes, with the first anthology I did not know what I was
doing. In all honesty, it was a tabula rasa where I could create anything I so
desired. So, I read as many anthologies of Filipino writing I could get through
inter library loan and also a few world literature anthologies. I decided on an
alphabetical format which was as straight forward as possible. My publisher,
Allan Kornblum of Coffee House Press, insisted on an introduction that would
provide an overview that a junior high student in the United States would
understand. It was challenging to come down to that level of exposition. If
some parts sound like a junior high book report on the Philippines, now you
know. Educating the colonizer by
the colonized is one of the important tasks of the postcolonial citizen. We must continue to publish books,
present our work in conferences, hold rallies, and do some civic protest
actions. Why must litterature
engagee be the sole province of white western writers? Jean Paul Sartre would
have loved it if Fil-Am poets stormed the Poetry Society of America or the
Academy of American Poets and had a sit-in reading poems of Jose Rizal and
Carlos Bulosan for 24 hours straight. Fil-Am and Filipino literature in English
already is in the throws of a movement, so many are publishing novels of
importance like Gina Apostol and Sabina Murray, short story collections like
Veronica Montes and M Evelina Galang, and poetry books like Barbara Jane Reyes,
Sarah Gambito, Eileen Tabios, and Sasha Pimentel. Did I just mention all women
writers? Well, that’s how powerful our women writers seem to be. The men are
just as talented like Oliver de la Paz, Vince Gotera, Bino Realuyo, Eric
Gamalinda, Eugene Gloria, Mike Maniquiz, Miguel Syjuco, Tony Robles, Jon
Pineda, and Joseph Legaspi. And
that’s just to mention a few names from the top of my head. There are many more coming out with really
good books that I haven’t bought yet. Well, if ALL aspiring Fil Am poets and
writers were to buy the books of just this amazing list, our invisibility could
be resolved for good.
AL: Another thing I find interesting is the difference and
change in tone that you take in your editor's introduction from 'Returning a
Borrowed Tongue' to 'Pinoy Poetics.' In 'Returning a Borrowed Tongue,' you're
more of a patient educator. But in 'Pinoy Poetics,' you've become downright
grouchy and just plain indignant and frustrated. If you were to put together
another Fil Am lit anthology today, how do you think your editor's introduction
would take shape? Would you still feel a need to provide an overview of Fil Am
history? Would your complaint of invisibility and amnesia still be as intensely
presented? What would be different this time, what do you think has changed in
the realm of Fil Am lit and its treatment (or what do you think has NOT
changed)?
N: That’s funny that you would characterize it as downright
cranky like some septuagenarian with a corn pipe in one hand and a shotgun in
the other. I’d had reached the point where I wanted to shoot ignorance in the
ass and have a good smoke afterwards. It’s not a question of “if” I will
publish a follow up to Returning A Borrowed Tongue but when. What is telling is that none of my
compatriots has had the gumption to put one together.
AL: As a pioneer, mentor, and advocate of Fil Am lit, what
advice would you offer aspiring Fil Am writers? Poets?
Community/movement/social justice leaders?
N: Now I feel really old but If I were to die in the near future
I would advise the aspiring writers to fall in love with the act of writing and
find the never ending joy of the act of reading. Don’t restrict yourself to
reading poetry books, read novels, plays, essays, detective novels, comic
books, science fiction, even erotica. Watch foreign films, go to the Opera,
attend a symphony, anything can inspire poetry and the more details you
include, the better. It has been
noted that the Fil Am community in general does not read or buy our books. That’s not the excuse because I know
some Fil Ams that devour every book we put out. I would point to the larger general culture of willful
ignorance and anti-intellectualism in American society that is the
problem. That, plus a hefty dose
of “colonial mentality,” we are fighting on three fronts.
AL: What excites you now about new Fil Am writers and
recent developments in Fil Am literature?
N: What excites me most is the creation and continued success of
organizations like Kundiman. What may have been a doubly isolating experience
of being a writer in America is less so, if you seek community.
AL: How would you characterize the evolution of your own poetry?
You've mentioned that your collections have "humor, the same sense of
irony, and political conviction" running through them, but do you think
anything else has changed apart from the "setting"?
N: My own written poetry will continue with all the hallmarks
you mentioned and it will continue to be in search of the most refined
metaphor. In the past ten years I’ve also moved into the realm of visual poetry
and film poetry and inter-media poetry. I think you can access some example of
these in the internet or on YouTube.
AL: What types of writing or projects would you like to
try or undertake in the future that you haven't done yet?
N: If I had the funding, I would like to make a feature length
film poem. 70mm with surround sound and paid actors. To dream is to keep
living.
AL: What's in store? What's keeping you busy these days?
N: I am trying to stay alive for the poems that demand a seat on
the front row of life.
AL: What kind of legacy would you ideally like to leave
behind (I posit this as broadly as possible)?
N: I would hope that a thousand years from now my poems will
still be read, performed, and visualized.
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