Interview with Eileen Chong

Eileen Chong is a familiar name for many English teachers since a suite of poetry from her collection Burning Rice was included in the NSW Year 12 Prescribed Texts list. One of these poems is also featured in the syllabus as part of a study on Contemporary Asian-Australian Poets, however, Chong is so much more than this. With her poetry spanning the remote corners of the human condition - from highly personal journeys into the inner psyche to sharply-observed forays into broader discourse - it's always fascinating to get an insight into her processes and methods. Beyond Burning Rice, Chong's poetry collections also include Peony, Painting Red Orchids, Rainforest, Dark Matter, A Thousand Crimson Blooms, and her upcoming 2025 release We Speak of Flowers.

I was lucky enough to have an opportunity to ask Eileen Chong some questions about her work and she was very generous with her time and answers!

What first led you to poetry?

I've always enjoyed reading poetry, even from before I realised what poetry was. My first poetry, I suppose, was from the Bible. I attended Methodist and Anglican schools as a child in Singapore, and had always been drawn to Psalms and Proverbs as well as the Song of Songs. I remember asking a teacher why parts of the Bible were written in sentences and others in 'parts'--even at a very young age part of me discerned the difference in language between prose and poetry.

I studied Literatures in English and Linguistics as an undergraduate at university, and was a high school teacher for a number of years. I'd always loved reading and teaching poetry, but my tastes were quite conservative and tied to the canon. It wasn't until I started a Master of Letters at Sydney University and studied the craft of poetry under the tutelage of Judith Beveridge that I started to read more contemporary poetry across different cultures and also in translation. I started writing poetry around 2010, and had my first book of poems published in 2012 with Australian Poetry. 2025 will see my sixth collection of poems (and my tenth book in total), We Speak of Flowers, to be published with UQP.

 

Do you feel like your poetry has changed over those 6 collections?

Absolutely—my poems have changed across the 6 collections because I have changed as a person over the past 14 years. Of course my work must have retained some defining aspects of a poetic voice, but my concerns, interests and obsessions have evolved, doubled back, overlapped, expanded and/or changed, and the poems reflect that in themes and form. 

For example: my next collection, We Speak of Flowers, is a book-length poem in 101 numbered fragments to be read in any order (including sequentially). The book demanded to be written in this manner—the usual poetry collection of 50 poems or so was not the right container for this work.

I teach the poems from my first collection, Burning Rice, a fair bit in schools, and as the years pass, I gain more and more distance from those poems, to the point where I often wonder: who wrote them? I’m actually consistently surprised by the craft of those poems, by the density of and the compression of language, and feel like I could not write poems like those now, simply because I am not longer the same person and poet as then. 

At the same time, there are words and phrases I used in poems in my previous collections that I would no longer be comfortable using as my sociopolitical consciousness has grown over time and with age. Some of the ideas that gripped me so intensely at different times have also faded out of focus as I have moved on to different stages in life, and others have come to take their place.

I love that my work remains dynamic and in flux even after more than 14 years as a writer.  I would be bored if I were to do the same thing day in, day out, and that applies to my poetry as well. 

You mentioned Burning Rice as an ongoing bridge into schools; how does it feel having your poetry listed as one of the options for NSW students to study? Does it change your relationship with the text?

I don't write for any specific audience, but I am beyond thrilled that students are studying the poems in Burning Rice. I think it's a wonderful recognition to have my poems studied in schools. I was previously a high school teacher of English in Singapore, and know first hand how transformative literary texts in schools can be for students and what a great impact it can have on young minds, sometimes long after their schooling years.

To the best of my knowledge, Burning Rice is also the first single-author collection of poetry by an Asian Australian to be on the HSC syllabus. That is a great honour, and I certainly hope I won't be the last. Having my book on the syllabus has also helped me greatly in a financial sense as I am able to go to schools to speak on my work, which has provided an alternate source of income as I continue to try to make a living through my writing.

I think it is also important for students to be able to read contemporary poetry and to encounter the poet in the flesh, and to understand that creativity is a process that is constantly in-flux. I have absolutely loved being able to be back in classroom to speak on the craft of poetry and to teach my poems to students. I hope that the poems form an entryway into students thinking about migration, identity, multiculturalism, liminality and ultimately leads them to reading more contemporary poetry.

I like what you say about creativity being constantly in-flux. Do you find that the ongoing interaction between students and your poetry challenges the idea of the author being in control of the text?

Absolutely. I’ve often spoken about the creative process and how sometimes even the poet isn’t fully aware of what might be in the poem. I’ve always thought that the final stage in a poem’s creation takes place in the mind of a reader. It’s also refreshing to be in the classroom and have students respond to a work in ways that surprise me, but which are completely valid.

Most of all, I really love watching the expressions and responses to my poems when I read them aloud in classrooms, before I explain any of the literary devices used, or even speak about possible interpretations. To witness a poem’s emotional effect on students is a true gift. To paraphrase Eliot, poetry can communicate meaning even before or beyond conscious understanding.

I have also written poems in response to being in the classroom—a kind of metatext about the creative process to try and articulate this interesting circularity. One such poem, ‘Making Sense’, from my last collection A Thousand Crimson Blooms, begins this way:

I tell my students:

poetry is a way to make sense

of what you fear.

And it ends with:

A girl at her desk begins a poem:

I dreamed everyone, even my own

mother, had forgotten my name—

Which comes first, the poet, the poem, or the reader? Perhaps they are all one and the same. 

I love that. I think we get too rigid sometimes about separating the author from the text and their audience. Why do you think poetry became your primary medium for expression?

As far back as I can recall, I have loved language—the science of it, the sounds of it, the craft of it. I majored in both Linguistics and Literatures in English as an undergraduate, but I had to choose one of the two for my Honours year. I very nearly chose Linguistics over Literature—I was particularly interested in neurolinguistics, pragmatics, and lexicography. But Literature won out and, though unknown to me at the time, it set me on a path that would eventually lead me to poetry as a profession.

Simply put, to me, poetry is the highest form of linguistic expression possible. It is the most varied, the most compressed, and the most encompassing of forms. What I love most of all about poetry is its capacity to move the spirit, its neverending mystery, and how a poem can renew and reinvent language in the smallest space imaginable. (Dove: ‘Poetry is language at its most distilled and most powerful.’) 

I also love how poetry is a broad church, and how it aligns itself with every human experience and emotion in ways that other art forms might not be able to. As I grow older, not much surprises me, but poetry retains the power to astonish and revise my experience and existence. (Dickinson: ‘If I feel physically like the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry.’)

I often joke about how if I had a choice I would never have chosen to be a poet. It is likely one of the hardest careers to make a living from, because our capitalist society values it so little. (Wordsworth: ‘Poetry has never brought me enough money to buy shoestrings.’) Yet I feel like poetry has been a blessing to me and a calling I could not refuse. Many of my friends from childhood are at the stage of life where they are preoccupied with their careers and life paths, but very few can say that they have spent most of their time pursuing their passion. (Graves: ‘There’s no money in poetry, but there’s no poetry in money, either.’) I can, hand on heart, say that I have, and I’m grateful for that, at the very least. 

It might seem that ‘poetry makes nothing happen’ (Auden), but I believe that ‘a good poem helps to change the shape of the universe’ (Thomas). Above all, it reminds us of what it means to be human, and that there is power in it, that ‘poetry is a political act because it involves telling the truth’ (Jordan), even if you ‘tell it slant’ (Dickinson again). Joy Harjo tells us that when you begin to listen to poetry, ‘you begin to learn to listen to the soul, the soul of yourself in here, which is also the soul of everyone else.’ What other vocation allows you this? Only poetry does. 

You mention some great classic poets from years gone by. If you had to choose 3 great poets from the 19th, 20^th and 21^st centuries, who would you pick?

An impossible task, I’m going to cheat and pick two each. John Keats, Emily Dickinson, Elizabeth Bishop, Adrienne Rich, Li-Young Lee, Joy Harjo. I’m sure I’ll regret these choices in one way or another. There are so many poets worthy of reading, and not enough time in the world to do so. 

Thanks Eileen. Final question - what advice would you give to anyone wanting to write poetry?

Read poetry. Read non-fiction. Read fiction. Read widely and without prejudice. Read poetry aloud. Listen to its sounds, rhythms, cadences. Study the history of poetry, of forms, across cultures. Read poetry in translation. Read ancient poetry. Read contemporary poetry. Read craft books written by poets. Read interviews with poets. Keep reading, listening, feeling, thinking. See art. Watch plays and performances, attend music events. Walk, swim, sleep in nature. Travel, in person or on the page. Fall in and out of love. Connect with community. Live your life to its fullest. Fill your well, nourish your imagination, and feed your soul. That which spills over? That which cannot be contained? That is the beginning of your own poetry.

 

Visit Eileen Chong's website here.

An Interview with Vuong Pham

If you're a teacher of Standard English in NSW, you might be familiar with Vuong Pham. As one of the featured poems from the anthology Contemporary Asian-Australian Poets, Pham's 'Mother' is part of a suite that can be studied as part of the Language, Identity and Culture module. I was lucky enough to get to speak to Pham and ask a few questions about his poetry, with a specific focus on 'Mother'. 

Something we often talk about in English is the idea of the 'persona'; that the voice in the poem is a construct or character that the author creates. To what extent do you think this is true for your poem 'Mother'?

Much of the experiences covered within the poem are authentic. For instance, the plucking of grey hairs, gardening as a hobby, conversations over my mother's past life, struggles in settling into a new country - they're all based on real life experiences and the special relationship I have with my mother. In saying this, I also write with an awareness of what other Vietnamese refugees experienced - offering a 'mirror' to the Vietnamese community, to acknowledge that they weren't alone in what happened. Understanding what other Vietnamese people experienced can help me write with empathy and assist in adding additional elements to my poetry. To answer the question more directly, the character in my poetry is mostly based on my authentic self, with some added elements to give voice to the Vietnamese community.

How would you describe your relationship with Vietnam?

I was born and raised in Australia. Vietnam was a once great and prosperous nation before the war. With the takeover of Communism, the spread of poverty, corruption and misinformation lead Vietnam downhill. For example, mum's childhood would include singing songs about a whole range of topics (EG. Freedom of birds, nature, love of country, compassion, etc.), though when the Communist party took over, everyone was forced to sing grim songs about a dictatorial president, Bac Ho. There was a high emphasis on valuing education in the previous democratic government. If for example there was a coffin being carried down the street, common courtesy existed amongst the community to stop and take off their hats as a sign of respect. Such values are not promoted by the Communist government because they don't care about building up the nation. In short, I see Vietnam as a nation that has been restrained - now merely an echo of a once great song.

That's quite a powerful image. Do you think that great song could ever come back?

Not under the grip of a suppressive government. I remember a newspaper story from my childhood that exemplifies that. The front cover image depicted a whistleblower on trial for speaking out against an unjust government measure - and his mouth was literally covered by the government officer to stop him speaking. This is what millions of Vietnamese have to live under, a government that purports to aim for a utopia, but the populace are in fact gagged and chained.

How would you describe your relationship with poetry?

I started getting into poetry since high school. I was hooked on poetry ever since reading the classical poetry of Wordsworth, Shakespeare, Rumi, and Basho. I've always been a quiet person, and in most social contexts I'll be the quiet one in the room. Poetry is a way for me to express myself in an evocative and eloquent manner. 

How do you feel about your poem being studied by potentially thousands of students in NSW over the last 5 years?

I was over the moon when I found out my poem was studied in the NSW schools at the start of this year. I wish I had more of an ego so that I would've found out about it earlier, by way of Googling my name sooner. But on a serious note, it is an amazing privilege to have my poetry studied as part of the NSW curriculum. The essence of the poem is about honouring my mother's sacrifices and hard work. Having the poem studied by thousands of students is good affirmation for both my mother's sacrifices and my poetry writing journey.

You've worked as a teacher. How does this inform your work as a writer?

I'd say my teaching experience plays a significant role in informing my work as a poet. I like to craft my writing in a way that is accessible to a wider audience. In particular, not making it too simplistic to the point of being ordinary, whilst not being too aloof either whereby only certain people within an English university department, for example, can decipher. As a teacher, it's in my experience to aid students at the grassroots level and then scaffold learning. Poetry in general is not a popular form of text in the wider public. I understand why because it generally requires more leg work to understand in comparison to other texts. I try and make my poetry accessible and engaging. 

Why is poetry important?

Poetry is way for writers to express the depths of their emotions, experiences and insights through a condensed and evocative medium. Through the beauty of language and its many poetic devices such as metaphor, simile, rhythm, imagery, symbolism, etc, poetry serves the purpose of expanding the imagination. It is an art form that can have rich layers of meaning. Many poets utilise poetry as a kind of healing tool - an emotional release to help writer and reader navigate the complexities of life and find consolation. Empathy can be encouraged amongst people of diverse backgrounds and cultures through poetry, which can positively influence the fabric of societal and cultural norms. Much of my writing focuses on the Vietnamese diaspora experience, so in that sense, poetry can act as a way of preserving our cultural heritage, passing down values and stories that would otherwise be lost if not documented. Poetry offers much educational value because it encourages us to think deeper, think critically and analytically. I've had an affiliation with poetry since high school, reading and admiring classical poets like Wordsworth, Basho, and Shakespeare. I was fascinated by how much depth of meaning they were able to achieve and express in their carefully crafted words. Poetry is a stellar option for people seeking the joys and literary beauty. 

Vuong Pham is available for poetry presentations and workshop bookings via his Facebook poet page or via the contact page of his website: Vuong Pham Poetry.