Name: When I Grow Up I Want to Be a List of Further Possibilities
ISBN: 9781942683339

Chen Chen

This award-winning debut interrogates the fragile, inherited ways of approaching love and family from Asian American, immigrant, and queer perspectives.

When I Grow Up I Want to Be a List of Further Possibilities

linda

Some things I’ve realized about reading poetry: you’ve got to be in the right environment. A sunny spring afternoon really isn’t a conducive for reading poetry; maybe curled up in bed, late at night, preferably in a sentimental, let-me-cry-my-heart-out mood.

I thought When I Grow Up I Want to Be a List of Further Possibilities was a mixed bag. I actually hated this book at first because of how pretentious it felt. There was too much name-dropping in this book: William Carlos Williams, Levar Burton, Audre Lorde, Maxine Hong Kingston, Edo-Ukiyoe, Didier, Trakl, Madame Bovary, Sisyphus, Paul Celan, Ayn Rand, and probably other allusions that I missed. I don’t like how Chen Chen tries so hard to be intellectual and uses ampersands instead of “and.”

There was this super funny, self-aware moment when Chen Chen writes, “I’m remembering what a writer friend once said to me, All you write about is being gay or Chinese—how I can’t get over that, & wonder if it’s true.” I think it is mostly true. For some reason, I did not connect with Chen Chen the same way I did with Ocean Vuong, even though so many people I follow on Goodreads spoke so highly of this book. Sure, Chen Chen language is playful and inventive, but I never felt the same sense of vulnerability in the other books of poetry that I really enjoyed. It seemed to me that Chen Chen was too eager to hide behind his words.

That said, there were two or three poems that I really enjoyed: “FOR I WILL DO/UNDO WHAT WAS DONE/UNDONE TO ME” and the titular poem, “When I Grow Up I Want to Be a List of Further Possibilities.” And throughout the book, there were some pretty clever lines that made me smile, like “I am knowledgeable in advanced aftermath,” or “To be a cyclone of laughter when my parents say their new coworker is like that, they can tell because he wears pink socks, see, you don’t, so you can’t be one of them.”

Maggie Gordon

When I Grow Up... is an utter delight. Chen deftly uses humour to explore a variety of painful topics, delving into the experience of coming out in a family that is not ready to accept him, immigration, race, and sexuality. I laughed, but also felt deep sorrows. Filled with beautiful, often sharp witty language, this is a superb book, and Chen is a poet to watch out for.

Merve A. 

"i try to build a bridge to my parents but only reach my mother & it’s a bridge she’s about to jump off of."

some of the poems hit really close to home

elif sinem

absolutely love this one. it's got this great conversational tone to it that veers to the surreal in imagery. a lot of these are hilarious also and I appreciate that the same themes of immigration & sexuality pop up again and again. that all said I think some of the poems meander a little too much for my taste or feel overall a little unfocused, so it's not an all the way classic for me

Claudia

this was such a strong, beautiful, and playful anthology — kinda sad that i’m done with it but i already know that i’ll be revisiting (and reading more of!) chen chen’s work. i especially loved his third set of poems — he is so relatable; the way he articulates some of his inner monologue is just, ugh!!! i want to articulate my own experiences with the same kind of artistic mastery can u tell i just want to be chen chen

Risa C

I never feel particularly qualified to review poetry (or any book really, but especially poetry), but the point of this has always been to be deliberate about contemplation and distillation, of wringing from this leaky sponge of grey matter something that could pass for coherency under the harsh light of an LCD screen set at 30% brightness. Here, Chen writes with a raucous, fortifying confidence of tone that defies, underscores, and moors the dithering sorrow of the liminal spaces he inhabits and the themes he so deftly explores, those of race, faith, family, and sex. His poetry is sharp and self-aware, bites its own neck when he dismisses it as just "about being gay or Chinese" but only just to leave an indelible mark, as if to say it's more than that and more than enough.

Arden Kowalski

whoo what a lot to take in all at once. my personal favourite line might be '& the boy i love is a body. & bodies die.' which is not as poetic and beautiful (especially when robbed of its context) as some other moments in this brilliant collection but it matters very much to me. it made me think of my own life, let my own experiences bleed into the poem, and sometimes that's exactly what you need from a collection like this. anyway i think the fragility of realizing that people you love will die and no matter how much you try to immortalize them in your poetry they are bodies and bodies die... well, it's a lot to take in on a monday night i'll tell you that! but chen chen does something beautiful with his work where the transient nature of feeling doesn't make it any less important. i think that maybe in his poems things are even more beautiful because they don't last and loving them is more worth it because you only have it for a time. or maybe i'm interpreting that completely wrong. but i thought this collection was brilliant and it's inspired me to be more direct. sometimes you don't need metaphor after metaphor when 'bodies die' means exactly the same thing.

Carmen

Joyce

LONGLISTED FOR THE NATIONAL BOOK AWARD FOR POETRY WINNER OF THE A. POULIN, JR. POETRY PRIZE A LIBRARY JOURNAL BEST BOOK OF 2017 SELECTION: POETRY & LITERATURE ON NPR BOOKS'S LIST OF "POETRY TO PAY ATTENTION TO: 2017'S BEST VERSE" A PUBLISHERS WEEKLY 2017 HOLIDAY GIFT GUIDE SELECTION In this ferocious and tender debut, Chen Chen investigates inherited forms of love and family—the strained relationship between a mother and son, the cost of necessary goodbyes—all from Asian American, immigrant, and queer perspectives. Holding all accountable, this collection fully embraces the loss, grief, and abundant joy that come with charting one's own path in identity, life, and love.

When I Grow Up I Want to Be a List of Further Possibilities

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