Monday, August 10, 2015

8 Years of On the Other Side of the Eye


So, August 10th is the 8th birthday for my first full-length book, On the Other Side of the Eye, which was originally published by Sam's Dot Publishing. We held the book release party at the Loft Literary Center and it was attended by friends and family from across the country.

It's out of print these days, although you can find hilariously overpriced versions on Amazon from time to time. But I feel it made its mark, and did what it needed to do as a book of Lao American poetry, opening doors and challenging expectations.


This was a book that was a collection of Lao American poetry, but it wasn't cliched, it didn't follow the typical arc and direction of a book of poems from a Southeast Asian refugee. I wanted it to be a challenge to reconsider where we placed the imagination of refugees in the world of arts and letters and to keep the door open for Lao science fiction, the fantastic, and the horrific, but at the same time to remember Asian American history, world history and the works of so many others who'd come and gone before us.

And it was certainly not written with any sense that this would be my first and only book. This mindset, I feel, is deeply critical for us to instill in our community today. That we can have more than one book within us, and that there are many ideas we can share.

I've since followed it up with BARROW, Tanon Sai Jai, Winter Ink, and DEMONSTRA, and continued to write and publish. Sometimes I share it through a journal or an art installation, in other cases I might just publish it on my own because in an era of democratized publishing technology, I think we need to be comfortable doing that.

I'd like to think that the good majority of my readers have found me by serendipity rather than some dreary teacher's assignment. Perhaps they're looking up an obscure term like hapax legomenon, or Mongolian Death Worm, or the secret history of Laos, and there they find me. In the words of Kurt Vonnegut, "So it goes."


It's come to my attention that there are a few pirated copies of On the Other Side of the Eye that are running around out there, and the most interesting of these was a hardcover edition. As a poet, I'm not particularly upset to see someone wants to go that much effort to share my work with others. In fact, I think we'd all be more open to the idea if there were more pirates who took it upon themselves to say: "This is a fine book, but it deserves even better typesetting, illustrations, and a hardcover, embossed, gold-foil cover on acid-free archival paper," or something to that effect.

One common element I've found is that the majority of the pirated copies of On the Other Side of the Eye are missing the foreword by the wonderful poet Barbara Jane Reyes, which I consider particularly tragic. Be sure to keep an eye out for her next book of poetry, by the way, inspired by the ancient Filipino legends of the vampiric Aswang.


Among the highlight of this journey, I'm delighted to have seen the Beyond the Other Side of the Eye exhibit of Lao American speculative art take place. Thanks to its publication, On the Other Side of the Eye allowed me to become eligible for the 2009 NEA Fellowship in Literature, and I also received the Council on Asian Pacific Minnesotans Asian Pacific Leadership Award for my work in the arts. It allowed me to make headway in organizing the first National Lao American Writers Summit, and opened the door for me to become a Cultural Olympian during the London Summer Games in 2012. I became the first Lao American poet highlighted at the Poetry Foundation, and was a guest of honor at the CONvergence science fiction convention this year. I've seen poems from On the Other Side of the Eye translated into numerous languages and even featured at stops on the Minnesota Light Rail.

But most importantly, it's brought me into contact with so many of you as my readers, and I'm deeply thankful for that. That's the most priceless outcome. Here's to the years yet ahead!

Simon Berman and Valerie Herron Cthulhu anthology coming soon

Simon Berman just previewed some header art by Valerie Herron for his upcoming Call of Cthulhu anthology.

Featuring Lovecraft's "The Call of Cthulhu," "Dagon," and "The Shadow Over Innsmouth," illustrated by Ms. Herron, and accompanied by a number of essays and ephemera written by accomplished horror authors and Lovecraftian scholars, the book will be "a high end volume that will look wonderful amidst the mouldering tomes of your vile athenaeum."

It will be coming to Kickstarter this October, and I'm delighted to have accepted his invitation to discuss the Lovecraftian mythos in Laos. As you can see, Valerie does some stunning work, and I think that she'll be able to present stunning interpretations of Cthulhu and the others in ways that really push the boundaries, compared to what we've seen before.

Thursday, August 06, 2015

[Map] Savannakhet: "There and back again and again..."


As part of the ongoing Laomagination project, here is a map of modern Savannakhet province if it were done in a hand-drawn fashion similar to the classic maps of fantasy novels. The artist for this one was Stentor Danielson of Mapsburgh. The version above is modified heavily from his original, which is very crisp and clear in its detail.

Perhaps in the future we'll be able to commission the other provinces but in the meantime, I think this provides a wonderful proof of concept for the potential of convening role-playing games here and kindling our collective imaginations.

From a gazetteer point of view:

Savannakhét: The name is derived from Savanh Nakhone, "City of Paradise" or "Land of Fertility." Prehistoric culture is evidenced by stone tools dating between 100,000 and 12,000 years old, with bronze tools from 2000 BCE. The Pha That Sikhottabong stupa is situated on the grounds of a 19th century monastery. At least five fossil sites are in the province, including one dating back 110 million years ago. Reports of Nak signs have increased in recent years.

[Poem] Our Dinner with Cluster Bombs, 2003


Our pilot packs a Makarov
Flying into the outskirts
Of the old province capitol
Long since delivered to kingdom come.

It’s bleak, this once-thriving home of ours
Now just a pile of broken jars
Serenading the paint chips and charred spars
Of the human spirit.


Our hotel is ringed with bomb-tails
And inert Browning machine guns from distant days
Of immolation.

It’s all the rage in décor.

The markets of carcass thrive because
There is no refrigeration to speak of:
Power fails them here, except from 5 to 11
When coincidentally, the best state-run TV is on.

The hills pulse with rank ghosts no one wants to mention.

These roads are emblems of narrow and nothing.

When it is time to eat, we have no difficulties finding
Empty seats, cracking, astral in their depths.


Our hostess strikes a match heavy with sulfur.

In the glow, we see their candle holders here:
Rusty yellow cans with brass fins and screw-on tops
Delivered direct from American aviation, yet flawed.
Failed agents of flame and whirlwind now somewhat tamed

Their menace barely noticeable
As she serves us her cream of mushroom soup.
She swears it’s a local favorite these days.

We don’t have the heart to compare it to Campbell’s to her face.