Winner of Poetry in English
Anatomy of a Wave
Yong Shu Hoong extracts metaphors and meanings from the visual and audio manifestations of waves in his seventh collection of poems. Dissecting the composition of a waveform, he oscillates between the looming waves of a pandemic and happier memories driven by 1980s pop music and other soundtracks that marked his youth. The book starts with the section ‘Old Wave’, inspired by the striking image of the Great Wave as envisioned by Japanese artist Hokusai. Poetry and memoir coalesce in the middle section, before the book ends with ‘Mixtape 1980–1985: Thirty-six Fragments’ – a subtle modern-day reference to Hokusai’s print series, Thirty-six Views of Mount Fuji.
Excerpt - "Fan Fiction"
Now, go west – towards Clementi – a friend’s home
in Pandan Valley: a turning vinyl thrums. Quickly
The beat picks up: “Sometimes you’re better off
dead…” But jolted lively by the drums, quickly
We find our groove. Out of uni, out of quarter-
life crisis, hurtling out of doldrums quickly
To grandly enter the dawn of the 90s with this
coolest duo on the scene. Love comes quickly
As the string of hits pile up. My friend snaps
up every single. I collect albums. Quickly
We spend our pocket money, then our starting
pay. He DJs part-time in a club, charms quickly
Around the circuit, while I build up my cred
as a music reviewer who succumbs quickly
To other hipper genres. He gets married. I
date a bit. Then the millennium comes. Quickly
Pop changes its mind; dance music mutates. We
drift apart. And I no longer wave my arms quickly.
Dakota Books, 2022
Judges' Comments
Anatomy of A Wave by Yong Shu Hong is a breathtaking collection, staggering in its genius creation. The entire work simply soars in its aesthetic conception and execution. The collection is riveting with its great lyric/narrative coherence, around which perambulates such interesting, stark tangents. At its deeply confessional, one encounters a beautiful honesty and authenticity. At its most innovative, one receives a wondrous sense of playfulness and contingency. What remains luminous is its constantly shifting textualities; yet, what is consistently reproduced is a lustrous polish. There resides a cool clarity—lucid, pristine. It just all holds together brilliantly.
When Yong writes, “Strange how things take on lives/of their own–Hokusai, serving/As inspiration for other artists/ (Van Gogh, Camille Claudel, Hergé,/Hirohiko Araki…), offspring/spawning offspring,” he is following the threads of personal and cultural history, memory, and imagination.
Anatomy of a Wave is a book of poems with prose commentary, a sprawling, wild evocation of the 1980s, with its pop music, that reverberates with the present, serving to remind us how the new and necessary things we buy to enhance our lives become obsolete. This book memorializes a period in the poet’s life without descending into nostalgia and bathos. It is the clear-eyed view of a chronicler and visionary. He understands that the new creates waste, and that out of that waste poets can create poems. How can we change the cycle of consumption before it chokes us to death? What is it to remember a distant era whose traces remain? These poems are political, personal, funny, and sorrowful.
Here is a collection which offers a subtle musicality that is quietly mesmeric on the level of language. Each re-reading results in a sense that Yong’s skillful use of the lyric and prose poem allows for both complexity and clarity to co-exist in these poems. Particularly admirable is Yong’s use of imagery and intertextuality: within and across poems, images and ideas interact like waves building on top of one another. This is a moving and polyphonic book about writing, artistic influences, music, the self, the body, memory, love and place that feels deeply relevant to our times.
Yong is a major poet whose works deserve to be known throughout the world where people still care about poetry.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Yong Shu Hoong
Yong Shu Hoong has authored seven poetry collections, including Frottage (2005) and The Viewing Party (2013), which both won the Singapore Literature Prize, and the latest, Anatomy of a Wave (2022). He currently teaches at Nanyang Technological University and, starting 2024, is the festival director of the Singapore Writers Festival. He is a co-author of collaborative works, The Adopted: Stories from Angkor (2015), Lost Bodies: Poems Between Portugal and Home (2016) and Lilla Torg: A Scandinavian Journey (2023).
Short Notes with Yong Shu Hoong
What does "Mata Hati | 心眼 | Eye of the Heart | மனக்கண் வழியே" mean to you in writing?
The heart sees what it wants to see, and hopefully, my writing is heartfelt and sincere, bringing forth the right dose of emotions coupled with all the thoughts that go into the writing, to allow it to affect the readers in some surprising ways.
What does your writing process look like? Do you type or write? Are there multiple drafts, long pauses, or sudden bursts of activity?
I might type directly into my laptop or mobile phone, or scribble into a notebook (I might be in a cafe, within the comfort of my home, or even on a bus, when composing this first draft, whenever inspiration strikes). But editing is usually done on my laptop in the comfort of home.
What does your working space look like?
It's a small bedroom that I use as a guest room for visiting friends to stay over. But otherwise, it's my study, with a study desk next to a window with a good view of distant hills.
Make an elevator pitch for your shortlisted work in 30 words or less.
My seventh poetry collection, Anatomy of a Wave, is a labour of love, overloaded with 1980s nostalgia. The metaphor of waveforms is carried from visual arts into the uncertainties faced during the pandemic, the memoir-like interweaving of the past and the present, and a tribute to the pop music of my happy formative years.
Could you share a pivotal moment as you were writing this work?
The gifting of Hokusai's print of The Great Wave from a friend Lydia Kwa; someone at Narita Airport handed it to her as a free souvenir, and she gave it to me when she visited me from Canada.
If you could give one advice to yourself when you were writing this book, what would it be?
Trust in your own ability to conjure creative non-fiction out of your usual practice of crafting poetry. And the seamless navigation between the two genres.