An Interview with Bernice Chauly

Image Credit: http://bernicechauly.com/about/

Bernice Chauly is a Malaysian writer, mainly of poetry. She studied Education and English Literature at the University of Winnipeg. She has directed the George Town Literary Festival for seven editions (2011-2018). She has won many awards, including being appointed an Honorary Fellow in Writing at the University of Iowa in 2014. We reached out to Bernice to interview her regarding her habits and process of writing poetry, as well as to ask some questions on her latest collection, Incantations/Incarcerations.

Questions and responses have been edited for length and clarity.

Q: What is the literary scene like in Malaysia?

A: At the moment there’s a very large spoken word scene. In terms of literary events, there’s George Town Literary Festival which I ran for seven years. It’s huge and very prestigious now, because it won the London Book Fair Award. But generally it depends if you’re a writer in English or Malay. The readership is very different.

Q: From us as aspiring poets, one of the things we wonder is whether there’s a particular place and time you write at?

A: I usually write at my desk. There’s no fixed time. It’s whenever.

Q: More broadly, we wanted to know about your method. For example, there are poets who say they follow an image, or approach their poetry as music. How would you describe your method of coming up with an idea and following through on it?

A: Each collection has its own specific theme. I start with a title in my head. My work is very personal. If you look at my first collection, which was written when I was your age, a lot of it is very existential, trying to look at the world, trying to understand God, studying so far away in Canada. Those were the early ideas of what it meant to be a poet. The Book of Sins was specifically about my mother, who died in 2007 and that came out in 2008. That was called the Book of Sins because it specifically had to do with what a sin is. With Onkalo, it was written in the throes of being a single mother, going through a divorce, trying to figure out life, looking at the nature of love. This most recent one is really about the older, aging woman. So it’s a process, and I think a lot of female poets do that, it’s different collections that mark different points in your life. That’s very much the way I write my poetry.

Q: So when you go through your poems, do you have various drafts of the same poem?

A: No, I have one draft. I always work with a notebook. When I’m ready to put a collection together, I go through my notebooks and then I transfer my work onto the computer. And that’s when I start editing, once I have about 20 poems over a few years. Some poems are written on a typewriter, and that’s a really different kind of process. The sound of the typewriter moves to a different kind of imagery because the sound is so pronounced. But when I’m working with pencil on paper, it’s a different kind of process, so it really depends on the kind of mood I’m in.

Q: So you’ve mentioned that your work is very personal and you start with a theme already in mind, have there been any of your works that has gone a very different direction than what you originally thought it was going to be?

A: Well I work in a lot of different genres. I have a memoir, I have a novel, I have short stories, I have poems. I think the novel was really difficult because I had never written a novel before so from the first draft to draft number ten, it changed drastically. But with poetry it’s a different kind of process. So if you’re looking specifically at poetry, no, not really. I’m always very focused on what I want the work to be like. I don’t really wander off - there are poems that are observations or meditations, there are some that are more visceral and emotional, so as long as you’re within a certain kind of timeframe, it fits into the same collection. I wouldn’t say they go off on a tangent because it’s hard to go off on a tangent with poetry, you have to be very focused. Each poem is its own thing, there’s an entire universe in one poem. The process of writing one poem is: I write one poem and then I move on to the next one. I don’t write one poem, get fixated on it, then stop and not write. I’m writing constantly and then I go back and I rework it.

Q: You’ve mentioned this very focused way of writing is specific to poetry, is it very different writing, say, a novel?

A: Yes, of course! A novel is completely different. That was six years of writing and rewriting. The novel is the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. Apart from raising my kids and giving birth. Poetry is a form that I’m most familiar and comfortable with, it comes very naturally and very instinctively to me. So I guess what has changed is the language. I wouldn’t be writing the same as I was twenty years ago, so it has evolved, as it should. Every poet needs to evolve. You can’t keep writing the same way you did twenty years ago.

Q: We were actually wondering about that. We read through your latest collection, Incantations/Incarcerations. As you mention, it deals with growing older and the march of time. How do you think that you from twenty years ago would view that collection?

A: Well twenty years ago the work that had come out was written when I was a teenager. I wasn’t a mother, I had never gotten married, I had relationships perhaps but it was a collection that was written by someone who was not yet a woman. I’m constantly trying to figure out who I am. Now I’m in my fifties and it’s a completely different kind of process. It reflects in my work.

Q: Looking back now, I’m sure you have different thoughts about the work you did when you were younger, when you were a very different person. So if that person picked up your latest book now, what do you think she would think about this work? Not just the content but also the style?

A: There would be a lot of mixed emotions because some of the poems are actually quite sad. There’s a lot of issues that are in this new collection that deal with loneliness, with sadness. With a lot of loss and pain. And I suppose maybe in my twenties I would not have anticipated that I would be in this place in my life. But at the same time it’s reassuring because I know that I can always fall back on writing, the poetry is always there. I always have this ability to speak my truth and I think that’s what’s really important, because I can and will always write poetry about my life. I think that’s what poetry is anyway, it allows you to examine yourself in many different ways.

Q: About your editing process in general, over the years, what have you learnt about approaching feedback?

A: I work with editors when the collection is complete and that’s the only time I get feedback, when it’s ready to go to print. Because otherwise everything is a work in progress. The structuring of the poems, the whole collection. There are 45 poems in this collection and all of that takes time. And when that’s done, when the work is edited to the best of my ability, that’s when I pass it on to an editor. Before that it’s pointless, really. It can be very distracting and I think it’s good to know when to get feedback because you don’t need to get feedback all the time. That shows a certain kind of immaturity and a certain kind of lack of confidence. It’s like you want validation - is this any good? If you’re a beginner poet, yes, of course. If you’re taking a poetry course you have to be evaluated one poem at a time, but for me because I’ve been writing poetry for many years it’s like okay this collection is done - it’s almost a matter of is this poem going to be in or out. Is it good enough to be in the collection or is it not good enough to be in the collection? In this instance we took out only one poem. Everything else stayed.

Q: Do you get feedback after the collection has been published? Do you feel that the feedback helps you in any way?

A: After the collection has been published? Of course! People are always like ‘oh I got your book, I really like it’ or ‘wow this is really painful’. The feedback, not really because very few poets are actually writing what I’m writing and I think I’m the only one in Malaysia who’s actually addressing these issues, in English anyway. A lot of the Malay poets here are male. Issues of menopause and growing older and your children and love and loss and loneliness. To be honest, no one’s writing what I’m writing in Malaysia. You’ve got the young poets in Singapore like Marylyn Tan, Stephanie Dogfoot, Tania de Rosario, they’re focused on completely different kinds of issues. It takes a certain kind of courage and a certain kind of bravery and honesty to write what I write. To be honest I don’t really care what people think because I’m not here to judge anyone then if people judge me for what I write then that’s their problem, not mine. As long as it’s a good piece of work - if it’s a badly written poem I understand, but I’m not going to publish a badly written poem. So it’s more about the content, some people might not feel comfortable with it, but that’s really their problem. A lot of Malaysian poets have not gotten over Asian taboos associated with what you can write about the body and what you can’t write about the body. I don’t care what people think.

Q: Is there anyone at all writing about similar issues to you in Malaysia?

A: No, there’s none.

Q: When you talk about how you don’t care what people think of your poems, do you think that it’s important that they understand the context that you’re writing in? I ask this because sometimes when I write I feel like this makes sense because of various experiences I had, but I feel that someone else reading it might not get that nuance. Do you think that that’s something you think about?

A: No, not really. Because it’s there in the preamble. The blurb on the cover already gives you the premise of the work. That should be clear enough. It’s important to have a very concise blurb on the cover to set the tone for the collection. Poetry in Malaysia and poetry in Singapore are really different. There’s a better understanding of poetry in Singapore because it’s taught. You have so many different faculties that teach English language, English literature and creative writing in Singapore. In Malaysia there’s very few. It comes from an understanding of the basic tenets of poetry. Metrics, metaphor, assonance, imagery, form. A lot of people need to be taught that. They think Lang Leav is poetry because she sells. There’s so many insta-poets in Malaysia and they think they’re good, but they’re not.

Q: Were there any poets that particularly inspired you?

A: Of course! Plath definitely, I think she inspires every woman. Plath, Sexton, some Russian poets. A lot of male poets as well, but my go-to poet is Louise Gluck.

Q: Moving on to more specific questions. We were reading Incantations/Incarcerations and we notice you tend to write a lot in stream-of-consciousness of questions. Larry doesn’t like it when I do that. How do you decide which ones go on the paper which ones could be converted to imagery or something like that?

A: There’s a lot of questions in this particular collection, because it’s just a lot of questioning, about the self, the body, the mind. It’s particularly obvious in this collection, there’s a lot of questions. It’s quite different from the previous collections.

Q: Is that more representative of where you are right now, which is a lot more questioning?

A: Yes.

Q: We had a question about censorship. As Singaporeans and Malaysians, we’re concerned about censorship. But I guess from what were heard from you, you’re not that concerned?

A: I think Malaysia and Singapore have very similar laws to a certain extent, but in Malaysia we have the shadow of Islam. And maybe in Singapore you have the shadow of extreme Christianity, right-wing Christians. I’m not sure if you’ve read Onkalo. There’s a very political poem in Onkalo called Jerit, which is the Malay word for ‘howl’ and it’s based off Ginsberg’s Howl. It’s about the prime minister and his wife, and I was afraid that was going to get me in trouble. But it didn’t. Because it’s so layered and it’s so figurative that it will take a poet to understand the kind of language that’s being used. The censorship board they probably looked at this and said ‘what the hell is this’, they probably wouldn’t even be able to understand it. Censorship is something I try to sidestep. I really can’t worry about it. Even with my novel, it was published in Singapore. Edmund Wee from Epigram said ‘we want to publish it’. But in Malaysia it has a label, a stamp on the cover that says ‘for mature readers only’. It’s actually the bookshops that were threatened because if somebody finds it offensive in whatever way then it will be trouble. So far, touch wood, nothing has happened yet. But I think you have to write what you’re going to write. If you’re going to be concerned about what people think, what authorities think then you might as well not write. Because you’re not being honest with yourself. I think self-censorship is a huge problem with some writers.

Q: Did this ever come as a problem to you, self-censorship? As aspiring poets, we don’t want to self-censor but-

A: No, don’t. Don’t self-censor. Then you’re holding back. I tell my students to not hold back all the time. So I can’t be telling you to hold back because if you hold back then you might as wel l- you need to scratch the itch, you need to scratch it, you can’t - it’s like trying to hold a fart.

Q: What do you tell your students with regards to self-censoring?

A: I just tell them they can write whatever they want as long as it’s not hate speech or overly rude. You can use profanity but to a certain extent, as long as it’s not overdone. If I allow myself to write whatever I want to write about, then the same should apply to them. I’ve had a student who wrote an entire collection of gay poetry. He’s Malay, so he’s finding a publisher who wants to take that risk. That’s the problem with Malaysia, we don’t have many publishers that publish poetry, unlike Singapore. That’s why you have so many poets. It’s a real struggle for poets in Malaysia.

Q: Do you feel like there are any other differences, between the poetry scene in Malaysia and Singapore? You’ve mentioned that it’s a lot easier in Singapore.

A: Yes, you have more institutional support - you have National Arts Council grants, you can travel. We don’t even have an arts council. It’s really hard. Poets are few and far between. I’m trying to create platforms for my students so they can be heard. One of my students is looking at other ways that poems can be heard - not necessarily on print, but it’s not podcasts. That’s one way of them making it work.

Q: What do you feel about the relationship between poetry and activism in Malaysia?

A: You have poets like A. Samad Said who writes in Malay. His work is very political, he’s been called up many times because his work was very provocative and critical of the government. For poetry about social issues, it’s the subtlety that matters. Which I have done in that poem I mentioned earlier, about our previous Prime Minister. It was quite an angry poem. It’s available on Math Paper Press.

Q: You mentioned that you’ve tailored your poetry to whatever you really cared about in your personal life as you were writing. Do you feel like there have been any common themes that just keep coming up over and over again, even as the years pass?

A: Yeah, I think navigating the female self in the modern world is something that I question and interrogate all the time. It’s something I was taught to do by my professors when I was writing in Canada. That’s where I come from and it gave me a very solid foundation for finding that very difficult voice that is mine and mine alone. That’s what I try to do for my students as well. I guess it’s the constant need to interrogate the self as a woman, as a mother, as a single mother, as a woman who has been divorced, who has suffered great loss. That’s essentially what I write about in my poetry. In short stories and the novel I wrote, it’s completely different. But poetry has always been an instrument for me and my voice alone. It’s very different when a male poet reads it because if you read Alvin Pang’s newest collection Uninterrupted Time, he explores very similar themes but from a male perspective. Once you start from a certain point of view you just continue to build on it. I’m not going to write about stars or outer space because that’s just not me. It’s about questioning my surroundings, self-reflection, and about truth. This is my truth. Just getting down to those deep, difficult, messy, sticky parts of yourself and interrogating it through a poem that is palpable, pleasurable and pleasing to a reader.

Q: How do you navigate writing about something deeply personal? It sounds difficult because the reader might not receive it the same way, especially if it has to do with identity.

A: You just write what you write. Why should you care about people think? If you don’t write it then people won’t know. If you wait too long, someone is going to do it for you. And why should they do it? Why shouldn’t you do it yourself?

Q: As beginners who are still learning to be vulnerable when we write, and how to be okay with that, we tend to be hyper-aware of the fact that someone’s going to read our poems. How do you grapple with that?

A: That’s the difference between an artist and someone who is writing poems for themselves. You can just write for yourself, it won’t ever get published, and nobody will read it. And that would be a huge shame. It’s about putting yourself out there. With any kind of art, once you make that art you have to let it go. And people are going to say whatever they want to say. Not everyone’s going to like it. You have to be able to deal with criticism because people are going to take punches at you, no matter what. Whether you’re a painter, a musician, a dancer, a filmmaker. As long as you feel that it is a thing of beauty, that you put your heart and soul in it, that it’s good enough to be in the world, then you should be proud of it. And if people say what they are going to say then you just have to take it with a pinch of salt and become very thick-skinned. You just have to put yourself out there and as long as you know that this is the best thing that you can produce at this point in your life, then you have to do it. Otherwise you’re doing yourself a disservice. If you have a talent, you have to work at it, of course. If you’re an athlete, you have to keep running and stretching and over time you get better at it. The only way to get better is to read and keep writing. But also to trust the fact that at a certain point, this is ready to go out into the world. So if you’re scared, then don’t bother. [laughs] Really, honestly. Because we deal with so much censorship, and nobody’s going to write this for you.

Q: How do you decide what constitutes a piece of writing that’s not good enough, and how do you deal with that?

A: You keep working at it. You have to find the right words, and read it aloud. I think you also have to know when something isn’t good enough. Then again, this comes with time. And you know when something is good. You just have that gut instinct. You have to sit with a poem for a while before it’s done, you can’t just write something and expect it to be published next week. Unless you’re meeting a deadline or you’re a journalist, that’s a different context altogether.

Q: Do you ever do anything with the poems that don’t make it? Do you recycle the phrases?

A: Sometimes I reuse a particular line, if it’s worth doing. If it’s a line that I really like, then I try to construct something out of it. I’ve done that a few times but there are some poems that are just unsalvageable and it’s just like, no this is rubbish, just chuck it out. You have to know when to chuck it. It’s okay, it’s not like this is so precious, it’s not like a diamond or a pearl. You can always rewrite it, you can always write something new. But you have to trust yourself. It’s all in your head and heart. But I also think that you need to know instinctively if you are writing a good poem or a bad poem. Only you can know that.

Q: I wrote a lot of short stories before this class. It’s easier to tell when a short story is bad, because if you can’t follow the story then it’s bad. But it’s harder for poems because you don’t have to have a story, you don’t have to be coherent for it to be a good poem. Would you agree with that?

A: Yeah because poetry really is about language and nuance. It cannot be direct. That’s too easy. Poetry is conversational. It has to be able to go after language the current time we live in. And not to say that instapoets don’t have a place, they do have a place. It fills a certain kind of void for a certain kind of person. But not for you and not for me.

Q: Your newest collection Incantations/Incarcerations has a lot to do with inevitable changes. Does your collection deal with those changes as inherently optimistic, pessimistic or something else?

A: [laughs] I think it’s a bit of both. There’s some very dark poems in there. In spite of that, it also has the most number of love poems out of my collections. So there’s a balance of light and dark. If you’ve read the poems on climate change, they’re very dark and sad. I was on the radio the other day and someone said that they’re like scary spells. The incantatory nature of it, almost like you’re reciting or casting a spell. I don’t know, maybe, but I want to be optimistic. Climate change is something I really care about. It’s reflective of the body. The earth is our home, it inhabits a body, and we live with that body. And that body is also reflective of what I’m going through: these changes, these catastrophic changes. So yeah I guess it’s both, and I think that I managed to create a certain kind of balance between the dark and the light.