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Kaleem Hawa

Kaleem Hawa has written about art, film, and literature for the New York Review of Books, The Nation, and Artforum, among others.



Articles Available Online


Hating it Lush: On Tel Aviv

Essay

May 2023

Kaleem Hawa

Essay

May 2023

I   They made the desert bloom, tall sparkling towers and clean Bauhaus lines, and apple-ring acacias, and teal blue shuttle buses, and stock...

Poetry

Issue No. 28

Three poems from issue 28

Sarah Barnsley

Valzhyna Mort

Kaleem Hawa

Poetry

Issue No. 28

Valzhyna Mort, ‘Music for Girl’s Voice and Bison’   Sarah Barnsley, ‘Virginia Woolf Has Fallen Over’   Kaleem Hawa,...

It’s tempting to imagine Prabda Yoon’s short story collection Moving Parts originating as a series of iPhone notes: a scroll-down of speech fragments, draft jokes and random tangents ending mid-sentence Only, since there were no iPhones back in 2002 when this collection was written, better to visualise the stories being tapped out on a Windows 98 desktop computer Like Comic Sans, Yoon’s writing is scrappy, playful and morbid – there is a sense that anything could happen, or as one character puts it, that the ‘world outside could zoom in any direction’   Translated from the Thai by Mui Poopoksakul, these eleven stories all feature protagonists living in Bangkok Together, the stories capture the dislocation of a mushrooming cityscape at the turn of the millennium In a translator’s afterword, Poopoksakul identifies with the generation given voice by Yoon: one whose ‘collective consciousness is tied to the experience of growing up in a fast-urbanising country’ Poopoksakul explains: ‘Prabda and I are both children of 80s Bangkok, old enough to remember the city without a sky train or a McDonald’s, but young enough for these signs of modernisation not to seem out of place when we imagine our hometown’ This rapid change pulled their generation in two directions: ‘hyper-nostalgia’ and ‘hyper-curiosity’ Yoon finds metaphors for this disorientation: young urbanites, gridlocked by traffic, sit in air-conditioned cars watching sodden pedestrians waiting for buses in the rain; across the city, no one can figure out the time: a woman’s wristwatch reads 247; the car’s mini-clock says 242; while the radio display reads 245 The city’s cogs continue to turn, but these inconsistencies breed a subtle discomfort Things are out of joint   Yoon has arranged the book in terms of a strange, contorted body, with each story or ‘part’ corresponding to a section of the human form In ways that are variously surreal, or science-fictional, he explores how it feels to be composed of a jumble of these body parts, and to be subject to their whims: be they faulty or missing; or even seditious, plotting against their owners, getting them in all kinds of trouble The

Contributor

November 2019

Kaleem Hawa

Contributor

November 2019

Kaleem Hawa has written about art, film, and literature for the New York Review of Books, The Nation, and...

after Mahmoud Darwish    Why is a boy an exclamation,  and why are his dead a period?,  why do his sinews tighten when he sees  a Palestinian body? Does his vision narrow  because of their flight,  or because their world is raining with salt?  Why is a boy with a gun different  from a boy with a jail cell?,  if the tools of rupture are our arms for  repurposing the body, and the arms of  the state are our means of repurposing the male,  are we finally useful and breathing and nervous…?  Does the white mean Night’s arrival?,  or does night signal the white’s escape?,  and when that white city boy becomes  a White City man,  does the hate in his heart subside?,  or does it become an ellipses,  a Bauhaus history of stories started  and left unfinished 
You Arrive at A White Checkpoint and Emerge Unscathed

Prize Entry

November 2019

Kaleem Hawa


READ NEXT

feature

May 2011

Short Cuts

Charles Boyle

feature

May 2011

1.. Whatever it is that the literature department of Arts Council England (ACE) is for, it can’t be for...

fiction

March 2017

The Urban Cyclist

Daniel Galera

TR. Alison Entrekin

fiction

March 2017

No terrain is impossible for the Urban Cyclist. His powerful legs drive the pedals down in alternation, right, left,...

poetry

September 2011

The Moon over Timna

Rikudah Potash

TR. Michael Casper

poetry

September 2011

In a copper house Lived the new moon, The new moon Of Timna. In a copper coat With a...

 

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