Art of Fighting
Bruce Lee could have been the one who popularised the trend. So every martial arts proponent henceforth will get his shirt ripped to tatters in the final battle of a kung fu flick, so that he emerges the hero, tanned and bare-chested with a black sash around his slender waist. But why this homoerotic striptease? Woman warriors, regardless of skill level, suffer no such impropriety on the big screen – even though distressed damsels often get raped by wealthy lords and useless sons. Think now of a different continent, Amazonian women striding along a river, their skins glistening in the sun.
“Singapore Literature Prize winner Yong Shu Hoong’s latest book features more than just poetry. There is also a ghostly tale at its core, complete with prose poems and micro fiction of exactly 100 words each, as well as annotated excerpts from an abandoned work.
In this viewing party, readers are invited to take a peek into the domain of death and cinema. You are part of a mob of dispassionate onlookers. Sometimes, you get to play the voyeuristic judge.”
SP: Why should anyone read this book?
Yong: To see how different genres of writing by one author could dwell within one book – cohabiting, jostling, quarrelling and eventually making love and peace with one another, bound by a common poetical lineage.