The Lengest Neoi, by Stephanie Choi, was published earlier this year as a winner of the Iowa Poetry Prize. Its title is a play on the Cantonese phrase (Leng Neoi / “Pretty Girl”), subverting expectations of Asian American femininity via code-switching and “mistakes.” In the tender “Speech Derapy” the speaker enters therapy to learn to say her “th” sounds. Language and communication are always at the forefront. Choi also subverts—or, more aptly, enlarges—what we think of as poetry, making forms from crossword puzzles, emails, and voice messages, and text chains. She also pays homage to Marilyn Chin’s “My Name” and her grandmother who features prominently in the book. Here’s the exquisite “Poem Written in My Grandmother’s Dress.”

https://blackbird-archive.vcu.edu/v21n3/poetry/choi-s/grandmothers-page.shtml

Congratulations, Stephanie!

Wow, just wow. The cover is gorgeous and so is the prose, absolutely breathtaking. It’s a one of a kind book, it is.

Thank you NetGalley and University Of Iowa Press for the chance to read and review this book.

While there are definitely some pieces I quite liked in the book like "Lipogram" and "Everything, Everywhere, All at Once", overall, it wasn't my favourite collection. That being said, I do thing I'd be interested in exploring more by the author in the future. I wish we had also been given some explanation for the poem "X-bred"

This was a unique way of exploring futher into ones identity. Through the use of language and historical background, it not only explores but gives insight into the narrator's past and struggles that they face. It will appeal to a certain kind of reader and may feel tricky for some however I found this collection to be insightful and touching.

Thanks to NetGalley and University of Iowa Press for the ARC!

I really enjoyed this! I’m fascinated by poetry that uses language to consider language, and that’s a central part of "The Lengest Neoi."

In a way, this is a very small collection, ranging widely in topics but remaining intimate in its scope. I can see some readers perceiving the book as having a lack of focus, but I think instead it is poetry as exploration, using the instability and dynamism of the form as a mirror for questions of identity.

I’ve never seen so many poems about dentistry and scoliosis in one place, but they begin to converse with the linguistic concerns. As we read about reshaping a too-small mouth with headgear and a misaligned spine with a brace, we also begin to consider the way language fits—or doesn’t fit—within the speaker’s voice. It’s an effective way of adding materiality to abstraction.

One of my favorite pieces is “When I Watched In the Mood for Love at a Bar in Ipoh, Malaysia.” Here, all the themes of language, memory, maturity, and identity coalesce into a kaleidoscopic image reminiscent of the film it references. It’s a triumph of a poem, and I feel a bit mystified by its existence. I think the best poems feel summoned and unwritten, and Stephanie Choi definitely embodies that here.

Reading is a subjective experience. It isn't just the reader, it is what else is going on in the reader's life at the time. I often find myself reading books in conversation with each other, usually by happenstance. I read How High We Go in the Dark by Sequoia Nagamatsu for the local library's book club at the same time I was reading The Lengest Neoi and now I cannot separate the two experiences. Both explore the immigrant experience in a variety of ways, holding it up to the light and looking closely at the refractions. Both invite readers to confront their own family dynamics. The very particularity of the situations described, leads to a universality of experience. I do not know how I would have read either book without the two playing off of each other, together they created an emotional tour de force. Thank you to Stephanie Choi, University Iowa Press, and NetGalley for the eARC.

First off, I gotta say, it's refreshing to see someone exploring their identity like this. The way the poet delves into the search for their name really hits home. It's like they're peeling back layers, trying to find where they fit in this big ol' world.

As someone who's also part of the diaspora, I totally felt that sense of connection. It's like these poems are little snapshots of shared experiences, you know? And even if I haven't walked in the poet's exact shoes, there's something universal about the journey they're on.

Plus, there's this beautiful blend of cultures woven throughout. It's like savoring a dish that's both familiar and new at the same time. You can taste the flavors of tradition, but there's this exciting twist that keeps you coming back for more.

Overall, this collection is a gem. It's like finding a piece of yourself in someone else's words. So if you're into poetry that digs deep into what it means to belong, give this one a go. It's like a warm hug for your soul.

This wasn't quite my cup of tea. As a native Cantonese speaker born in North America, the choice to spell 'neoi' with an "N" instead of 'leoi' with an "L" was already a bit odd to me, and the feeling followed me throughout the collection. I recognized the words, but the poetry didn't resonate with me at all for some reason. The poem with the grandmother's message repeated over and over didn't make sense no matter how I read it, and I couldn't relate to the poet's internal crisis regarding her name. Overall, I wasn't able to find the sense of belonging I'd been hoping for in this collection, but perhaps it would be better received by a foreign audience.