Scan barcode
brimnms's review against another edition
challenging
dark
emotional
mysterious
reflective
medium-paced
5.0
courtneyfalling's review against another edition
reflective
fast-paced
3.5
I liked the persona poems of Anna May Wong most. Some of the other poems about technology and surveillance fell a little flat for me: I wanted them to push a little further or situate the speaker's life amidst the world a little more in most cases.
Content Warnings
Moderate: Suicide
lsparrow's review against another edition
1.0
I just could not get into these poems. I think the concept of these poems was interesting but I did not have enough background knowledge to really connect with the poems.
khuizenga's review against another edition
4.0
I will admit, there was a lot here that went right over my head, but what I did get was amazing. Her use of fragmented imagery kept me on my toes and painted a surrealist dreamscape in my head filled with history, representation, and digital surveillance. These poems weren’t always the easiest for me to connect to, but Sally Wen Mao’s skill is evident.
whosthehereticnow's review against another edition
4.0
4.5 stars: love the interactions with anime, techno-orientalism, the Western gaze, and colonial fetishization (the minus .5 stars is because I had to read it too fast and didn't get to digest it enough; to be revised upon reread)
townsendme's review against another edition
5.0
This opened my mind to what poetry can be about and do. Disquieting and delightful!
percystjoan's review against another edition
4.0
absolutely fantastic flow to these poems, they were a delight to read because of how perfectly constructed they were? but also at the same time they were hard to read because a lot of them were just so brutal in the best way
anna may wong blows out sixteen candles
when i was sixteen, i modeled fur coats for a furrier.
white men gazed down my neck like wolves
but my mink collar protected me. when i was sixteen,
i was an extra in a tale of two worlds. if i didn't pour
someone's tea, then i was someone's wife. every brother,
father, or husband of mine was nefarious. they held me
at knifepoint, my neck in a chokehold. if they didn't murder
me, i died of an opium overdose. now it's 1984
and another white girl awaits her sweet sixteen. it's 1984
and another white girl angsts about a jock who kisses
her at the end of the film. now it's 1984 and long
duk dong is the white girl's houseguest. he dances,
drunk, agog with gong sounds. all around the nation,
teens still taunt us. hallways bloat with sweaters, slurs
when i was eight, the boy who sat behind me brought pins
to class. "do asians feel pain the way we do?" he'd ask.
he'd stick the needles to the back of my neck until i winced.
i wore six wool coats so i wouldn't feel the sting. it's 1984
so cast me in a new role already. cast me as a pothead,
an heiress, a gymnast, a queen. cast me as a castaway in a city
without shores. cast me as that girl who rivets center stage
or cast me away, into the blue where my lips don't touch
or say. if i take my time machine back to sixteen, or twenty,
or eight, i'd blow out all my candles. sixteen wishes
extinguish and burn. the boy will never kiss me at the end
of the movie. the boy will only touch me with his needles.
anna may wong blows out sixteen candles
when i was sixteen, i modeled fur coats for a furrier.
white men gazed down my neck like wolves
but my mink collar protected me. when i was sixteen,
i was an extra in a tale of two worlds. if i didn't pour
someone's tea, then i was someone's wife. every brother,
father, or husband of mine was nefarious. they held me
at knifepoint, my neck in a chokehold. if they didn't murder
me, i died of an opium overdose. now it's 1984
and another white girl awaits her sweet sixteen. it's 1984
and another white girl angsts about a jock who kisses
her at the end of the film. now it's 1984 and long
duk dong is the white girl's houseguest. he dances,
drunk, agog with gong sounds. all around the nation,
teens still taunt us. hallways bloat with sweaters, slurs
when i was eight, the boy who sat behind me brought pins
to class. "do asians feel pain the way we do?" he'd ask.
he'd stick the needles to the back of my neck until i winced.
i wore six wool coats so i wouldn't feel the sting. it's 1984
so cast me in a new role already. cast me as a pothead,
an heiress, a gymnast, a queen. cast me as a castaway in a city
without shores. cast me as that girl who rivets center stage
or cast me away, into the blue where my lips don't touch
or say. if i take my time machine back to sixteen, or twenty,
or eight, i'd blow out all my candles. sixteen wishes
extinguish and burn. the boy will never kiss me at the end
of the movie. the boy will only touch me with his needles.
windbreak's review against another edition
3.5
i think i would have enjoyed the poems after reading the notes first .
aaron_j136's review against another edition
4.0
Darlings, let’s rewrite
the script.
Let’s hijack the narrative, steer
the story ourselves. There’d be a heist, a battle.
this was a remarkable poetry collection! :)
the script.
Let’s hijack the narrative, steer
the story ourselves. There’d be a heist, a battle.
this was a remarkable poetry collection! :)