12 or 20 (second series) questions with Jessica Sequeira

Jessica Sequeira’s books of poetry, novels, and essays include Taal (Pamenar Press, 2024; Pez Espiral 2024), Chacal Dorado / Golden Jackal,tr Diego Alegría (Buenos Aires Poetry, 2022), A Luminous History of the Palm (Sublunary Editions, 2020), Other Paradises: Poetic Approaches to Thinkingin a Technological Age, tr Felipe Orellana (Zero, 2018), Otros paraísos (Editorial Aparte, 2020), A Furious Oyster (Dostoyevsky Wannabe, 2018),and Rhombus and Oval (What Books, 2017). She has translated more thanthirty books by Latin American authors, including Augusto Monterroso, DanielGuebel and Winétt de Rokha. She holds a PhD in Latin American Studies from theUniversity of Cambridge and is currently a postdoctoral researcher at theCenter for Asian Studies / Institute of History of the Pontifical CatholicUniversity of Chile, studying the influence of India and China on Chileanpoetry and music. She also is a member of the band Lux Violeta.

1 - How did your firstbook change your life? How does your most recent work compare to your previous?How does it feel different?

I wrote my first book (Rhombus and Oval) inBuenos Aires, under the influence of a certain poetic mixture of narrative, non-fictionand fantastical literature. It is a very Latin American book that happens to bewritten in English. It "changed my life" in the sense that myidentity was already that of a writer, specifically a poet, because I'dpublished things in magazines, and was an editor and translator of books, and aboveall, was an obsessive reader (which can make you believe you are the writer of everythingyou read). But now I had a book to my name. I'm very fond of it but not overlyattached. Many people I knew in Argentina thought about the "work"more than specific books, and I think that I always have, too. A book reflectsa certain moment in time, and if you keep writing books, you will have a work.There's no need to become anguished over creating a great monumentalworldchanging text as some people do, thus blocking themselves from creating.Probably most masterpieces are created by accident, in the sense of emergingfrom intentional artistic decisions at a moment that could not have beenanticipated.

I've never cared too much about genre divisions,and love writing that moves freely between poetry and essay, incorporatingvisual elements and music. I'm now making songs with poetic lyrics,experimenting with conceptual art, playing with rhythm . . . My most recentbook Taal is explicitly musical. "Taal" refers to the rhythmiccycle in Indian music. But it also refers to Gabriela Mistral's book Tala,which plays on the Spanish meaning of the word talar, to cut down atree, and furthermore is a nod to the Chilean poet's interest in India.

The difference between the first book and now? I'man older person, with more experiences, happy and otherwise. And I'm in Chile,and don't think of leaving—I consider myself to be a Chilean-Indian diaspora-noneoftheabovepoet, in deep engagement with local sounds, speech patterns, folklorictraditions and history.

2 - How did you cometo poetry first, as opposed to, say, fiction or non-fiction?

Poetry is at the heart of everything for me, as aform of personal expression and a way of speaking with communities of poetic existencepast and present. An anthology called A Book of Luminous Things, editedby Czeslaw Milosz, was formative for me, along witha bilingual edition of Enrique Lihn's La pieza oscura, Jean-PaulSartre's Les mots, the novellas of Clarice Lispector, and many otherbooks, but also the poetic lyrics of countless singer-songwriters. Quite early on,I discovered both poetry and translation, and the playful possibilities ofwords in relation to emotion, which remain vital. For me, fiction andnon-fiction emerge from the same profoundly lyrical impulse—of course poetrydoesn't have to be lyrical, but what I write tends to be.

3 - How long does ittake to start any particular writing project? Does your writing initially comequickly, or is it a slow process? Do first drafts appear looking close to theirfinal shape, or does your work come out of copious notes?

I usually start from an idea, sometimes narrative, othertimes imagistic or musical. Concepts like a palm tree, or a passage of music, orthe idea of dignity, go about developing secondary, tertiary, polyphonicassociations. The initial thought comes quickly and develops at the back of themind, assembling through notes over months. Which isn't to say that I'm alwayswriting. But even at times of pure being or experimentation, there are ideasthat can relax, unfold, develop. I like the moments when speculation pushes theboundaries of reason.

4 - Where does a poemor work of fiction usually begin for you? Are you an author of short piecesthat end up combining into a larger project, or are you working on a"book" from the very beginning?

I've worked both ways. As I said, usually I start froman idea, which can be quite broad, with what emerges along the way a surprise. If I gather miscellaneous texts, I try to give thema meaningful sedimentation and narrative flow. Since I write a lot of bookreviews and criticism, if I want to turn those into a book, by nature it willbe a poetic exercise to give these eclectic texts a unifying label. Usuallyit's the other way around.

5 - Are publicreadings part of or counter to your creative process? Are you the sort ofwriter who enjoys doing readings?

Yes, I really love public readings and performances!Of poetry and music. There's a theatrical element to it all that is soenjoyable. I'm fascinated by the possibilities of the "performingarts", and the ways that the same text or song can take on differentmeanings and textures in different places and contexts. I've written pieces inresponse to a "pie forzado", or prompt. The opposite case has alsobeen true; I've found new ways of understanding existing texts by reading orsinging or playing them in front of others.

In the past few years, I have turned more towardmusic—I am part of a trio that composes songs on the basis of poems, most ofthem from Latin America and Asia—and am more attentive to this element. ButI've always been attracted to the composition of written works for contexts Iwouldn't have thought of myself, and to performance poetry. Relatedly, I alsoreally love to collaborate.

6 - Do you have anytheoretical concerns behind your writing? What kinds of questions are youtrying to answer with your work? What do you even think the current questionsare?

The world is full of violence, suffering and a lackof compassion. I don't have an easy answer about what poetry should be or do,or what the current questions are. Poetry is perhaps a special kind of attentionthat takes the time to lovingly explore aspects of life and culture that escapethe daily news cycle, and a means of connecting with other human beingsdifferent from oneself, with shared concerns.

For myself, the act of writing, language as a verb,helps me to form thoughts and express emotions that I wouldn't have otherwise,not necessarily about my own life. Paradoxically, I often best understandmyself by reading, writing or imagining myself as other selves—getting out ofthis limited skin. I also enjoy reading others' work to enter into other formsof knowing and feeling, other social worlds. All this is a necessity, somethingintegral to my existence. Acts of imagination and associations happen in poeticwriting in very specific ways, using parts of the brain that would nototherwise be activated.

Of course, writing often has preoccupations thatconnect to worlds beyond the text. I am interested in the power of art tochange emotions, the influence of historical colonial processes, and the ways thatcertain ideas like "dignity" change and transform across contexts. I alsoenjoy the work of many writers with more specific projects, like Jacinta Kerketta, who shows the inner lives of the Advasi community in Jharkand whereshe grew up, and the resource extractions inflicted upon this community in thename of progress. The journey, the anecdotes, the pleasure in language, and theconnection between inner self and outer landscape remain at the centre of thework. Journalistic writing can often present a good complement to poetry as aspace to present more urgent and linear arguments.

7 – What do you see thecurrent role of the writer being in larger culture? Do they even have one? Whatdo you think the role of the writer should be?

I think making any kind of art is a vulnerableprocess where you are showing deep parts of yourself to others, even if youaren't talking directly about your own experiences. I don't have any grandclaims about the moral power of writing to improve the world, and theexperience of making and experiencing art often happens in solitude. But inpoetry communities and art communities more generally, I've found so manylovely creative people and friendships that I really treasure, which give me asense of hope and joy. Humor, playfulness and just letting your hair down areso important. Creating feeling doesn't have to mean writing saccharine things,but making work that conveys a depth of thought and emotion, entrusting it toothers in spaces where creativity and meaningful conversation exist, and inturn receiving others' creations and giving them time.

8 - Do you find theprocess of working with an outside editor difficult or essential (or both)?

I love working with editors who offer sensitive,thoughtful suggestions. Of course there are butchers out there, and people wholimit themselves to copyediting. Those with advice for good structural editsare rare and precious.

9 - What is the bestpiece of advice you've heard (not necessarily given to you directly)?

"Attention, taken to its highest degree, is the samething as prayer", the Simone Weil quote, often comes into my mind. Theidea seems related to fanaa, the Sufi idea of self-annihilation. Whenthings don't work for some reason, it tends to be an issue of dispersion ordistraction, a lack of care for something or someone. True attention canrequire consciously putting other things aside to achieve a certain level ofdedication, permitting oneself to be absorbed in what is not the self.

10 - How easy has itbeen for you to move between genres (poetry to fiction to translation tonon-fiction)? What do you see as the appeal?

Oh, I think it's easy to move between styles. Life,experience and thought work like that—sometimes they exist more in sounds, othertimes in images or words. Art perhaps accompanies these emotional and cognitiveprocesses, and to mix styles is an appealing way of conveying different modesof understanding.

11 - What kind ofwriting routine do you tend to keep, or do you even have one? How does atypical day (for you) begin?

I don't have a routine. I'm always writing, in thesense of taking notes and developing ideas, whether that be at 2pm or 2am.Which also means that I'm also always not-writing. There is no fixed hour to dothis or that, even if every day I make something. Academic funding andfreelance translation work have given me the opportunity for unbroken blocks ofsolitude, for which I am very grateful, and the ability to absorb myself deeplyin whatever project I am working on.

12 - When your writinggets stalled, where do you turn or return for (for lack of a better word)inspiration?

Inspiration comes from everywhere. I don't believein that idea of the blank page, because if you are reading, studying, talkingto people, and playing with other forms of art the possibilities are endless. Iespecially love talking with creative friends who are excited about their owndiscoveries and ideas, and transmit that enthusiasm. Collaborative work is alsoexciting because ideas emerge that couldn't have come from a person on theirown.

13 - What fragrancereminds you of home?

The pungent coconut oil my aunt (father's sister) usedin her hair has a very particular set of associations for me. Now in Chile,which has been home for over a decade, I have to mention merkén and the scentof blooming jasmines in summer, and the smell of the excellent Negronisprepared by my local barman.

14 - David W. McFaddenonce said that books come from books, but are there any other forms thatinfluence your work, whether nature, music, science or visual art?

I think the obvious answer is music. Especially vocalmusic by poets of the world's folkloric and rock songwriting traditions, and instrumentalmusic from South Asia and Latin America, along with jazz.

15 - What otherwriters or writings are important for your work, or simply your life outside ofyour work?

In Santiago, Chile there is a very strong communityof writers, musicians and artists, in which I form part and which alwaysinspires me to keep working and collaborating with others. This is just asimportant to me as the books I read. I truly believe in the importance of theliving tradition, of keeping poetry alive through current interpretation andconversation.

The internet has been important in discovering thework of writers from other places. Nowadays social media is more politicallyfraught and I've stopped participating so much on twitter and other platforms.I hope there is a way for a dynamic of kindness and curiosity about otherpeople's work to continue to exist internationally, as it does in the citywhere I live.

16 - What would youlike to do that you haven't yet done?

I would like to write a kind of inverted biographyof Fernão de Magalhães (Ferdinand Magellan), the Portuguese explorer, not talkingabout him directly but rather about the places he visited, and the communitiesthat received the influence of Portuguese influence in India and South America.He would be a kind of ghost inside the book with the focus turned to the soundsand stories of other less famous people.

I also want to record an album of songs with my ownpoetic lyrics—until now I have worked with lyrics by other poets such asGabriela Mistral, Stella Díaz Varín and Pedro Lemebel. It is such a pleasure tofind the music in the poetry of others, a pleasure very much analogous for meto the pleasures of literary translation. But I'd like to try out my own poemstoo and see what happens.

Also, I want to continue publishing more books ofpoems and novels, and improving my abilities as a tabla player and singer. Thepoem is, for me, always a "canto".

17 - If you could pickany other occupation to attempt, what would it be? Or, alternately, what do youthink you would have ended up doing had you not been a writer?

Like many of us, I already do practice otheroccupations. My day jobs are postdoctoral researcher at a university, andliterary translator. I also make music. To answer your question—and maybe itwill happen—I can imagine myself plunging into the musical life more completely.Writing, but with the rhythms and textures of music. Violeta Parra, Akiko Yano,Flora Purim, Elizabeth Fraser, Jeff Buckley, Victor Jara, Mercedes Sosa, LataMangeshkar, Joni Mitchell and so many others are people I admire very much. Andtheir lyrics are poetry. Instrumental music can also speak. I think of peoplelike Anoushka Shankar and Keith Jarrett, or above all, the truly great tablaplayer maestro Ustad Zakir Hussain.

18 - What made youwrite, as opposed to doing something else?

As I said, I do other things too. I will say thatwriting has tended to be the most complete way to give my thoughts and feelingsexpression. To create a poetic narrative, and really work on the precision oflanguage and structure, helps make sense of so many things, even if thematerial isn't autobiographical. This is perhaps because I was trained in averbal and analytical tradition, and lack the tools still to express myself ascompletely in other arts.

19 - What was the lastgreat book you read? What was the last great film?

The word "great" rears up like a specterbefore me. I'll tell you two things I just read and watched, both of which Irecommend. The last book was Manto azul, poems by Verónica Zondek based onthe history of the Valdivian gold mine Madre de Dios, told from several voices.The last film was a short documentary by Indranil Chakravarty of the Konkani-language writer Damodar Mauzo, which is on YouTube.

20 - What are youcurrently working on?

I am working on several things. One is a book forBloomsbury on the basis of my doctoral thesis, about the influence of India on nineLatin American writers. Also, I am finishing up a few books of poetry,including a set of poems that dance around the history of Chinese slave labourin the north of Chile and Perú, and another set of poems texts written inresponse to music. Some interesting translations are in the works— you'll seeanother Argentine novel soon . . .  Andmy group Lux Violeta is working on a new album of music. I could keep going, butnow I have to get to work on all this! Thank you for the questions, rob.

12 or 20 (second series) questions;