Focus on the running tap, the way your hands momentarily disappear and you feel safe again.
#LGBTQ #poetry
(The pandemic adds a new filter to these words)
pickMary Jean Chan grew up in Hong Kong, moving to England as a teen. Flèche (from the sport of fencing) sounds like flesh—alerting me to the importance of the corporeal in this brilliant collection of poetry. Bodies that long for food and love. A complex mother-daughter relationship, multilingualism, and discovery of her lesbian self are subjects that deliver new and bittersweet delights every time I reread these poems. #LGBTQ #poetry ?ï¸â€?
tell the one who
detests the queerness in you that dead
daughters do not disappoint
#LGBTQ #ownvoices #poetry
pickThe queer Asian body as simultaneously weaponised and vulnerable. Difficulties within the mother/daughter relationship and the lesbian romantic partnership, within the context of post-colonialism and multi-lingualism (when English remains dominant, or not).
Everything I'd read about this debut led me to expect an intelligent, well-crafted collection. It does not disappoint. What I did not expect was for it to be quite so moving. This is GOOD!
pickGreat poetry collection dealing mainly with her relationship with her mother and how it is strained due to her sexuality. These are very accessible poems centered around fencing terms as an analogy for how she and her mother interact. 4âï¸
That was my first poetry of the year for #jennyis30 @jenniferw88
I hope to read a lot more poetry this year and this was a fantastic one to start with!
pickBeautiful poetry collection I took a chance on from the library but I‘m SO glad I did. Chan‘s poetry was so gentle, intense, tender, sometimes heartbreaking. We see her discovering that she‘s a lesbian, musing on identity as a Chinese woman in the west, learning to fence and how all of those things impact her relationship with her mum. It felt like slipping into another persons soul so closely. I really recommend, but be prepared to get emotional
"Flèche (French for 'arrow') is an offensive technique commonly used in épée, a competitive sport of the poet's teenage years. This cross-linguistic pun presents the queer, non-white body as both vulnerable ('flesh') and weaponised ('flèche') in public and private spaces. Themes of multilingualism, queerness, and cultural history emerge by means of an imagined personal and national biography, spoken by a polyphony of female voices."
#TBRtemptation
Flèche | 
