Acclaimed Chinese American Poet
National Book Award Finalist
Walt Whitman Poetry Award-winner
- An Evening with Jenny Xie
“How many lives have been lived inside Jenny Xie’s brief life? I’m guessing the number is staggering, as is the wisdom I find in her remarkable debut. She renders the world with such lyric precision, such a quiet hugeness of spirit, such fresh astonishment. Already I am certain Xie’s is one of the voices that will help me, quite simply, to live.” –Tracy K. Smith
“For a poet so capable of taking readers on far-flung journeys to places like Corfu, Cambodia, and New York, Xie is perhaps most remarkable for her ability to take readers deeper inside themselves than they have ever been. Xie’s work is just a thing of pure, piercing beauty.” – NYLON
“A magician of perspective and scale.” – The New Yorker
Jenny Xie was born in Anhui, China. She is the author of Eye Level (Graywolf Press, 2018) and The Rupture Tense (Graywolf, 2022), both finalists for the National Book Award. Eye Level, selected by Juan Felipe Herrera for the Walt Whitman Award of the Academy of American Poets, was named a recipient of the Holmes National Poetry Prize from Princeton University and awarded the Levis Reading Prize; the collection was also a finalist for the PEN Open Book Award and longlisted for the Dylan Thomas Prize. The Rupture Tense was a finalist for the National Book Award and the CLMP Firecracker Award. In 2016, Xie’s chapbook Nowhere to Arrive (Northwestern University Press, 2016) received the Drinking Gourd Prize.
Reviewing The Rupture Tense for The New York Times, Srikanth Reddy writes, “Xie ingeniously leverages Western prosody to expose the fracture between the “Asian” and “American” aspects of Asian American identity. Her “ragged line” registers the ruptured sovereignty — political and bodily — that convulses her dissociated “you”; the “torturous stitches” that suture one country to another evoke literary hemistitches, or half-lines of poetry, in her broken address to a fugitive ‘we who are made mostly of distance.’”
Xie holds degrees from Princeton University and NYU, and has been supported by fellowships and grants from Kundiman, the Vilcek Foundation, the Jerome Foundation, Civitella Ranieri, and New York Foundation of the Arts.
She has taught creative writing at NYU and Princeton University, is currently assistant professor at Bard College. She resides in New York City.
Jenny Xie was born in Anhui province, China. She is the author of Eye Level(Graywolf Press, 2018), a finalist for the National Book Award and the recipient of the Walt Whitman Award of the Academy of American Poets and the Holmes National Poetry Prize from Princeton University, and The Rupture Tense (Graywolf Press, 2022), a finalist for the National Book Award and the CLMP Firecracker Award. Her chapbook, Nowhere to Arrive(Northwestern University Press, 2017), received the Drinking Gourd Prize. She has been supported by fellowships and grants from Civitella Ranieri Foundation, Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference, Kundiman, New York Foundation for the Arts, the Vilcek Foundation, and the Jerome Foundation. She has taught at Princeton and NYU, and is currently assistant professor of Written Arts at Bard College. She lives in New York City.
The Rupture Tense
Shaped around moments of puncture and release, The Rupture Tense registers what leaks across the breached borders between past and future, background and foreground, silence and utterance. In polyphonic and formally restless sequences, Jenny Xie cracks open reverberant, vexed experiences of diasporic homecoming, intergenerational memory transfer, state-enforced amnesia, public secrecies, and the psychic fallout of the Chinese Cultural Revolution. Across these poems, memory―historical, collective, personal―stains and erodes. Xie voices what remains irreducible in our complex entanglements with familial ties, language, capitalism, and the histories in which we find ourselves lodged. The Rupture Tense begins with poems provoked by the photography of Li Zhensheng, whose negatives, hidden under his floorboards to avoid government seizure, provide one of the few surviving visual archives of the Chinese Cultural Revolution, and concludes with an aching elegy for the poet’s grandmother, who took her own life shortly after the end of the Revolution. This extraordinary collection records the aftershocks and long distances between those years and the present, echoing out toward the ongoing past and a trembling future.
Jenny Xie’s award-winning Eye Level takes us far and near, to Phnom Penh, Corfu, Hanoi, New York, and elsewhere, as we travel closer and closer to the acutely felt solitude that centers this searching, moving collection. Animated by a restless inner questioning, these poems meditate on the forces that moor the self and set it in motion, from immigration to travel to estranging losses and departures. The sensual worlds here―colors, smells, tastes, and changing landscapes―bring to life questions about the self as seer and the self as seen. As Xie writes, “Me? I’m just here in my traveler’s clothes, trying on each passing town for size.” Her taut, elusive poems exult in a life simultaneously crowded and quiet, caught in between things and places, and never quite entirely at home. Xie is a poet of extraordinary perception―both to the tangible world and to “all that is untouchable as far as the eye can reach.”
NOWHERE TO ARRIVE
Nowhere to Arrive takes as its subjects the whiplash of travel, the shuttling between disparate places and climes, and an unremitting sense of dislocation. These poems court the tension between the familiar and the foreign, between the self as distinct and the self as illusory. They look plainly at the startling strangeness of varied landscapes and mindscapes, and interrogate a state of unrootedness—one thrown into relief by the speaker’s years abroad in Southeast Asia. At the chapbook’s center are two long poems, titled “Phnom Penh Diptych: Wet Season” and “Phnom Penh Diptych: Dry Season,” that examine the escapist narratives that draw tourists and expatriates to Cambodia, and the speaker’s own privileged positioning. On a formal level, the poems in Nowhere to Arrive make room for the unsaid and that which cannot be articulated. Here, we have a vocabulary of silence alongside stark imagistic juxtapositions, poems that celebrate compression and the force of paratactic constructions. Attentiveness and concentration emerge as virtues, as the speaker surveys the vast territory of the present with a wakeful gaze.
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TO BE A GOOD BUDDHIST IS ENSNAREMENT
The Zen priest says I am everything I am not.
In order to stop resisting, I must not attempt to stop resisting.
I must believe there is no need to believe in thoughts.
Oblivious to appetites that appear to be exits, and also entrances.
What is there to hoard when the worldly realm has no permanent vacancies?
Ten years I’ve taken to this mind fasting.
My shadow these days is bare.
It drives a stranger, a good fool.
Nothing can surprise.
Clarity is just questioning having eaten its fill.