Singaporean Literature

Saturday, February 12, 2011

Module 1 : Missing You by Felix Cheong Seng Fei-Singaporean author

Posted by : Beverly Abelon

Source:A Travel to the Literature of the World by Claudio Tabotabo, http://www.postcolonialweb.org/singapore/literature/poetry/cheong/missing.html

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The literature of Singapore comprises a collection of literary works by Singaporeans in any of the country's four main languages: English, Chinese, Malay and Tamil.

While Singaporean literary works may be considered as also belonging to the literature of their specific languages, the literature of Singapore is viewed as a distinct body of literature portraying various aspects of Singapore society and forms a significant part of the culture of Singapore. A number of Singaporean writers such as Tan Swie Hian and Kuo Pao Kun have contributed work in more than one language. However, this cross-linguistic fertilisation is becoming increasingly rare and it is now increasingly thought that Singapore has four sub-literatures instead of one.

Singaporean Poetry

Children Literature

Singaporean Drama

Singaporean Fiction

Missing You

Felix Cheong Seng Fei

I miss you

dawn, dream and dusk,

whenever my words run out

and crawl, toothless and silent at last

to the kennel of your heart.

I miss you

in the privacy of pain,

a cry tucked beneath sheets,

a kiss unfinished

over distances.

And I shall miss you

when I'm neither here nor there,

neither a ghost nor a shadow,

more than love can endure,

more than time will allow.

Biography

Felix Cheong was the recipient of the National Arts Council¹s Young Artist of the Year for Literature Award in 2000. His three books of poetry are Temptation and Other Poems (1998), I Watch the Stars Go Out (1999) and Broken by the Rain (2003).

His work has also been published in newspapers, poetry websites, foreign journals and 6 anthologies of Singaporean poetry. Felix has been invited to perform his work at the Brisbane Writers¹ Festival, the Queensland Poetry Festival, the Hong Kong Literary Festival, the Singapore Writers' Festival and the Edinburgh International Book Festival.

As a literary activist, he has been involved in promoting Singaporean literature abroad. He was instrumental in organising a Singapore contingent of writers on 4 successful reading tours -- The Philippines (January 2001), Australia (July 2001), the US (April 2002) and the UK (August 2003).

Felix graduated from the National University of Singapore with a BA (Hons) in 1990 and completed his Master of Philosophy in Creative Writing at the University of Queensland in 2002.

Evaluation of Learnings:

1. What is the voice of the two Poems

2. What do dawn, dream and dusk symbolize in the poem Missing You?

3. How do Singaporean poems differ from other Asian poems?

CHINESE LITERATURE

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Module 2: Chinese Literature

Posted by: Beverly Abelon

Source: http://www.chinapage.com/poet-e/english.html

http://polaris.gseis.ucla.edu/yanglu/ECC_CULTURE_LITERATURE.HTM, http://polaris.gseis.ucla.edu

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To many Westerners, Chinese literature remains a hidden seam in the rich strata of Chinese culture. As a matter of fact, it is a treasure of a very considerable number of brilliant and profound works as each dynasty, in the long history of China, has passed down its legacy of magnificent events and works. For 3500 years, they have woven a variety of genres and forms encompassing poetry, essays, fiction and drama; each in its own way reflecting the social climate of its day through the high spirit of art. Chinese literature has its own values and tastes, its own reigning cultural tradition and its own critical system of theory.

Chronologically, it can be divided into four main periods: classical literature, modern literature, contemporary literature and the present-age literature.

China has a very old and rich tradition in literature and the dramatic and visual arts. Early writings generally derived from philosophical or religious essays such as the works of Confucius (551-479 BC) and Lao-tzu (probably 4th century BC). These writings were often about how people should act and how the society and political system should be organized and operated. A strong tradition of historical writing also evolved. After the fall of a dynasty, for example, a grand history of the late dynasty was commissioned and written by scholars in the next dynasty.

In addition to philosophical, religious, and historical writings, China also produced poetry, novels, and dramatic writings from an early date. Poetry became well established as a literary form during the T'ang Dynasty, from AD 618 to 907. One of China's greatest poets, Li Po, wrote during this period. This tradition of poetry, often dealing with the relationship of humans to their natural surroundings, has continued.

Drama is another old and important literary form. Chinese drama usually combines vernacular language with music and song and thus has been popular with the common people. A variety of popular and standard themes are presented in Peking Opera, which is probably the best known of several operatic traditions that developed in China. Chinese opera is a favorite artistic and cultural medium.

Early Chinese novels often stressed character development and usually centered on an adventure or supernatural happening; an example is the classic Ming version of `Shui-hu chuan' (The Water Margin). Historical themes were also popular, as in the `Romance of the Three Kingdoms', written in the late Yuan period. There were also love stories such as the extremely popular

"Dream of the Red Chamber', probably China's most famous novel. Many of the early novels were written anonymously. Often these works were written in the vernacular, and many authors felt it was beneath their station to be associated with this type of writing.

China's literary tradition continues to the present, though much 20th-century writing has concentrated on efforts to reform or modernize China. Probably the most famous 20th-century writer is Lu Xun, a poet, essayist, and novelist whose work focused on the need to modernize through revolution.

Chen Ziang Poetry

On Climbing You-Chou Terrace

Ahead I cannot see the ancient faces,

Behind I cannot see the coming sages.

I brood upon the endlessness of Nature,

Lonely and sick at heart, with falling tears.

Chen Ziang Biography

A native of Shehong county, in what is today Suining, Sichuan, Chen Zi'ang was the son of a rich man, and did not travel to the capital to take his exams until he was in his twenties. He completed the Jinshi level of the Imperial Examination at age twenty-four.

Having arrived in the capital metropolis, Chen suddenly called attention to his poetry, by expensive and elaborate means: startling the spectators in the marketplace, he paid the asking price of a million cash for a Tartar musical instrument. Responding to the onlookers consequent intense curiosity, he claimed to be an expert at playing that particular musical instrument, and invited everyone to see him do a performance the next day. Then, when the curious crowds showed up, he had prepared a lavish feast. However rather than performing any music, he got up, and introducing himself as a writer of essays and a poet, he preceded to smash to bits the musical instrument for which he had paid so much, and handed out copies of his works, including his Thirty-Eight Lyrics.

As an important advisor to the Empress Wu Zetian, Chen was a firm advocate of poetry reflecting real life, and thus with his active interest in politics, much of his work has undertones of social commentary. Some have suggested that it was his work that was the reason he suffered persecution at the hands of Wu Sansi; he died in 702 having been in and out of prison.

Evaluation of Learnings:

1.Rewrite the poem above in your own  words.

2.Read another Chinese literary piece and know deeply the author of it and give                        your own analysis.

Asian Literature

Saturday, February 5, 2011

Asian Literature
Introduction
Definition and History of Asian Literature
Module 1 : Chinese Literature
Module 2 : Japanese Literature
Module 3 : Korean Literature
Module 4 : Indian Literature
Module 5 : Pakistani Literature
Module 6 : Tamil Literature
Module 7 : Arabic Literature
Module 8 : Persian Literature
Module 9 : Turkish Literature
Module 10 : Philippine Literature

Love: Fiasco

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

LOVE: Fiasco

I’ve tried to think my past worthwhile for a month from which I have endeavoured my feeling of such hidden sensation accompanied by the force of nature to a man which seldom came up to be the stardom in my dreams. Yes,   it started with a dream in a place of emptiness knowing a man, getting to know his likes, dislikes, and etch. But all of those are just a misery to the reality of ending up to be as it is, as a dream.

            Is  it the indigenous thing that God gave me? A gift?

Yup, it was before. I think of it as a treasured worth with the little sensuality of getting over appreciation, attraction, and affection to the man I’ve been thinking as the one who redirected my ways. I couldn’t stop over him, can’t control myself the topsy-turvy that came across. Sometimes not. I thought of it. Taking part on which he acquainted the mere existence of the word inspiration in my life as I partake each challenges in joining contest, competition, writing tilts and rivalry in playing in games building up foundation of laurels for him. It wasn’t a joke and I admit that I was too obdurate at that time when I was an infant about what’s with love. But it didn’t stop in there. for  weeks, for days, for hours, for minutes, for every seconds. I always shook off my head and try to retain the enigmatic smile of a man that indeed costs me to pay the need of longing. But thinking of him makes me not into satisfaction. I ought to lay down one. With the phone on my hand, rolled it over trying to scroll and search for his name, John.  I tried to have ring on the next line as I pinpointed out from the keypad. Those rings were enough to question over from someone who keeps on banging over his phone. I found it practical as he answered me in the latter part few seconds after. I was bewildered never expecting that he would care about me. At the start, I felt over the mirth that was much. But I never did expect that at the midst of the conversation would bring me and go about the revelation of the true character and identity of the man whom I thought as one who’ve got the etiquettes well known on the way he acted. My mates were indeed right. “know him first.” But it was just by that time that I’ve known him after all that nerd I’ve got completely awakened through my nightmare, through the deepest sense of falling into him. A BIG MISTAKE!

            All the wonderful things burned out. The sweetness before turned to sour bitterly taste. All my positive thoughts about love vanished. It was though a termite that little engraves the pain of illusion. You’d  lose the control and your breaks seems no longer to function. All my life begun to intensified and evolved dilemmas. On the railroad came across in a predicament, in the diversion not knowing what to do. I can hardly deny the oppression. I saw him together with Ana, it keeps flashing on my mind like video clips. Just a little honesty of longing for features for  the feeling you’d know that wasn’t gone. It leaves the living scar deep hollow inside which associated with your every act. And you’d see people recognize every bit of change you’d undergo.

            As I’d cross the bridge nothing’s inside me but the truth that stands over, trying to recover beyond way of that falsified game. You can’t wait seeing yourself leaving that path with no prints left. But can long to hear the clear bounces of words outreached by people that seek to care every time you’d close your eyes ready to listen. Over and over again. You’d hear them whisper those piece of advice and their words seems to puff surrounding you and could claim to see their counsel. All their advices keeps on reminding me, slapping my face over stretching the emphasis on how stupid I am that begets to fool myself over a man that sniffs to drastically break my dawn of tomorrow. Before I’ve wished to take the risk that it would bring but what do I get? How many times I’ve worked things but out and let life resounds to spell its meaning. Let not yourself be drowned and betrayed that you are weak.

            Love hurts. It starts happily but ends up suddenly, badly. It is a sudden malfunction of the heart that weakens your brain. A damn thing, a big mistake you could only remember if you have surpassed within.    

By: Beverly P. Abelon