In this monthly column, writer Sohini Basak sets out to interview contemporary writers from Asia to understand the nuances of cultural practices, power hierarchies, literary lineages, gender norms, all the while asking the question: Is there an Asian way of thinking? The hope for the column is to not only celebrate, but also sharpen our understanding of the countries geographically closest to us, and heighten our collective curiosities about the shared colonial histories, mythologies, sentimentalities and anxieties. Here’s an excerpt from her interview with writer Dorothy Tse:
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Dorothy Tse has received the Hong Kong Book Prize, Hong Kong Biennial Award for Chinese Literature, and Taiwan’s Unitas New Fiction Writers’ Award. Her first book to appear in English, Snow and Shadow (translated by Nicky Harman), was longlisted for the Best Translated Book Award. She is the co-founder of the literary journal Fleurs des Lettres, a literature magazine to showcase the best new talents from the Chinese literary world. Set in a semi-imaginary Hong Kong, her first novel Owlish (translated by Natascha Bruce), recently longlisted for the Warwick Prize for Women in Translation, is one of those deeply enjoyable but hard to describe books. Described variously as an anti-fairytale or a dark parable about totalitarianism, it’s a narrative hall of mirrors in which readers (especially Indian readers) will find some form of their fears and struggles reflected.
I wanted to begin with your first novel Owlish and how you decided on the fabulous range of names: we have character named ‘Professor Q’ or ‘Aliss’ or ‘Owlish’, places like ‘Valerian Empire’, the city of ‘Nevers’, ‘Vanguard Republic’, or languages like ‘Ksane’, or my favourite name for a higher educational institute: ‘Lone Boat University’…
I’m glad that you asked about names. In fact, the novel began with its title that suddenly came to me when I had only a rough love story plot in mind. The Chinese title plays with the way to write ‘owl’ such that the Chinese characters for the word, literally ‘cat-headed-eagle’ are reversed to read ‘eagle-headed-cat’. As the title materialized, vivid images and tones began to emerge for me.
I attended at least three residencies with my translator, Natascha Bruce, and we worked closely on the translation, including discussions on the underlying meaning of these characters’ names. The book title is one example: it not only involves wordplay with the Chinese name of an animal, but it also tries to encapsulate the essence of the comic-tragic protagonist, who is an intellectual but not quite. Natascha considered various animal names in English that might have capacities similar to the Chinese word for owl. One of the earlier versions of the book title that she arrived at (and which eventually led to the current title) was ‘Owlfish’. She explained that a ‘fish owl’ is a genuine type of owl found in Asia. When reversed, it sounds like an adjectival form—owlish—implying a resemblance to an owl and suggesting a learned or bookish disposition.
That’s really fascinating! Reading the afterword to the novel, we find out that the book was written in 2014, and 2019, when Hong Kong broke out in huge pro-democracy protests. Did the pressures of living through those times shape the book in directions perhaps you had not anticipated before?
I will never forget the spirit and energy I witnessed during the protests. It felt like the first time I truly saw Hong Kong people when we encountered each other’s faces on the street. Their spirit shaped the trajectory of the novel, particularly its ending. While some readers perceive the ending as devastating, I don’t see it this way. Instead, I find energy and hope within it.
And what made you set much of the novel in and around the university?
Adding up my time as a student and a teacher, I have spent more than 20 years of my life in the university, making it a familiar institution to me. While some may consider it as a place somewhat isolated from ‘real life’, often referred to as an ‘irony tower’, it also serves as a representative microcosm of the bureaucratic system in Hong Kong.
The university setting provides insight into how Hong Kong society shapes its inhabitants. Opting for a stable life and a good income often entails accepting the system’s rules, a compromise that can lead to losing yourself, like what happens to Professor Q.
On the other hand, a university is a place that nurtures the younger generation. The roots of recent movements in Hong Kong can be traced back to these institutions.
Speaking of the younger generation, could you tell us why you started the literary journal Fleurs des Lettres in 2006?
The founding of the journal was a collective effort by a group of writers, critics, and painters. At the time, there weren’t so many online channels where one could easily get their names out, so we aimed to establish a platform that could include the emerging generation of writers. We also wanted to present literature with an image in line with a wider public. This involved utilizing vibrant colours and crafting feature stories that responded to prevailing trends and social issues. These themes included ‘Buy’ in the inaugural issue and ‘Let’s go, going to 1989’ in the 19th issue. The journal’s style was rather unconventional compared to other literary journals of that time.
You’re also a writer of poetry and short fiction. Working in which genre feels closest to you? What can we read from you next?
I can’t really write poems — my poems are more like happy accidents. I consider myself a fiction writer. Short stories are my comfort zone, where I sense full control over the structure soon after I start writing. I can tell if it works or not, as it feels like I already hold a mental map of the story. Writing a novel, on the other hand, is more adventurous, with numerous twists and turns along the way.
Currently, I’m working on several projects simultaneously, including a collection of modern fairy tales and an academic book on my beloved Hong Kong writer Xi Xi. However, the next book slated for translation into English is a novella that I wrote a few years ago.
