Through the lens of comparative literature, the ancestry of working-class writings and the literature of labour trails from Russian novelist Maxim Gorky’s Maть (Mother, 1906) to South Africa’s Black migrant theatre, from the oeuvre of Argentine poet Elías Castelnuovo to the biographies of working-class Irish writers, and includes the many proletarian writers collectives springing up in response to the social moment: France’s Socialisme ou Barbarie, Japan’s Puroretaria bunka undō and Nihon Puroretaria Sakka Dōmei, Sri Lanka’s Dabindu, and United Kingdom’s ‘The Fed’ or the Federation of Worker Writers and Community Publishers.
As Macau-based Chinese scholar-translator Dr. Luka Lei Zhang writes in The Routledge Companion to Working-Class Literature (2024), the literary production of contemporary Asian workers ‘are often subjected to intricate social forces and power dynamics’, and it ‘would be a mistake to reduce these contradictions to simple good/bad, political/apolitical, and individual/collective oppositions’. It is this simplistic dichotomy that is contested by Asian Workers Stories, an anthology of fiction and nonfiction prose produced outside the fortresses of the canon, the middle-class literati, and the academe. Dr. Zhang, the anthology’s editor, brings her expertise as a scholar (and at-times translator) of working-class writers Chong Han, Tan Kok Seng, and Md Sharif Uddin of Singapore, as well as Mengyu, Wan Huashan, and Shengzi of China. In a 2023 interview, she confessed: ‘Personally and politically, working-class literature holds a special place in my heart’, going on to name Gorky, Annie Ernaux, Xu Lizhi, Takiji Kobayashi, and Filipino migrant worker-poet Rolinda Onates Española as her favourites.
In this interview, I spoke with Dr. Zhang on migrant workers writing from East Asia, Southeast and South Asia, and the Middle East, as well as the expansion of working-class writings within the larger body of the Asian literary canon.
Alton Melvar M Dapanas (AMMD): Cheers to the anthology Asian Workers Stories! Apart from wanting to contribute a new dimension to Asian working-class literature (considering most existing books are either scholarly or poetry collections originally written in English), what are other motivations that impelled the creation of this anthology?
Luka Lei Zhang (LLZ): I’ve worked on workers’ writings for several years and have encountered many great storytellers. Although several anthologies of workers’ poetry exist, short stories are translated and collected on a lesser basis. My main goal was to organise the writers in this region and, in this way, show that their work is valued and that they do not write alone. I am fortunate to know many Asian worker writers personally, which had allowed me to approach them and discuss the project, and their interest and encouragement motivated me to pursue the work further. I met Hard Ball Press’s publisher, Tim Sheard, at the Working-Class Studies Conference in 2019. He invited me to publish working-class writings with him—and that’s how it happened.
AMMD: Original writings from Anglophone Philippines, Bangladesh, and Indonesia aside, Asian Workers Stories also features translations from the works of Bengali fictionist Hamiruddin Middya (trans. V. Ramaswamy), Laotian writer Wiset Sanmano, and Asymptote contributor Stefani J. Alvarez. You yourself have translated Tari Sasha (Indonesia), Lü Caiyi (Malaysia), as well as Chinese workers Mengyu, Wan Huashan, and Shengzi. In one of our exchanges over Facebook, you acknowledged that translators play a vital role in working-class writings.
LLZ: Yes, you’re right. Many working-class writers produce their work in their native languages, making translation an essential method for accessing their writings. Translators play a vital role in this collaborative effort by often supporting lesser-known worker writers; they translate their works and actively participate in the exchange. I am very grateful for their contributions.
I spoke with Alberto Prunetti, an Italian working-class writer, who highlighted the importance in being aware of what working-class writers are producing in different parts of the world. The Chinese worker writers I’ve worked with, for instance, are interested in reading Prunetti’s works too, but unfortunately, they’ve yet to be translated. In this case, translation is important in connecting working-class writers, but I acknowledge that English often appears more accessible to an educated elite in this region. Therefore, I also aim to translate such English writings into Chinese.
AMMD: In the submissions call to the anthology, you wrote, ‘There are several obstacles that make it difficult to publish a collection of [prose] by working-class writers from the 1970s to the present day, but we cannot wait any longer.’ Could you tell us the ethnolinguistic and economic milieu that Asian working-class writers write from, about, and against? And in what ways are they excluded from the canons of their respective ‘national’ literatures?
LLZ: I was inspired by various older workers’ writings which stated that they could not wait any longer to take up their pens. Many working-class writers have been writing for years, yet their works are often undervalued or viewed through a problematic lens.
Summarising what they write about or against in a few sentences is challenging. I would say it largely depends on the historical context and the location of their writing. For instance, in the 1970s, a Hong Kong working-class writer named Jin Yi wrote several novels that focused on factory workers in Hong Kong. He criticised the exploitative practices of American factory owners and the harsh rules within the factories, emphasising as well the need for solidarity among workers and highlighting the importance of labour unions. His novels gained popularity among worker writers in Singapore and Malaysia, who admired his writings and followed his lead. For instance, Singaporean worker writer Chong Han adapted his own novel to reflect factory life in Singapore. Sadly, these novels are no longer read or discussed today, and many people studying Hong Kong or Singapore literature have never heard of these novels. Also, considering the migrant worker writers today, it becomes even more challenging to incorporate them into the framework of ‘national’ literature. A Filipina poet may gain recognition in the country where she works, but she might not be known in the Philippines.
AMMD: For the second volume of Working-Class Literature(s): Historical and International Perspectives (Stockholm University Press, 2020), your article on Singaporean workers disclosed that you are not so much attentive to what working-class literature is as what it could be—a speculation of possibilities.
LLZ: My statement largely responds to the stereotypes surrounding working-class literature in Asia. I have received numerous dismissive comments and doubts about working-class literature. Some believe it is too political, too propagandistic, and lacks ‘literariness’. I don’t blame these views, as I believe they are historically and politically conditioned. If you read Asian Workers Stories, you will see that all these assumptions are incorrect.
By suggesting ‘what could be’, I aim to emphasise the specific contexts in which workers write. In various times and places, why did working-class people start writing? What do they write about? Who are their intended audiences, and who are the readers? Considering these questions, you will notice that they use very different aesthetic strategies and literary forms. I want to use the framework of ‘working-class literature’ to explore the transformations and tensions in literary texts. For example, we have a rich history of worker writers (and working-class literature) in China. However, in recent years, the poetry of migrant workers has not been recognised as working-class literature; instead, it is interpreted in different ways. Can we consider their work as contemporary writings of the working class? Why are writings by migrant workers often read only in terms of their migrant status, rather than their class position? I also want to say that working-class literature is not about identity politics; writers from outside working-class backgrounds can also create meaningful work in this genre.
AMMD: Having studied and translated worker writers Chong Han, Tan Kok Seng, and Md Sharif Uddin of Singapore and Mengyu, Wan Huashan, and Shengzi of China from Chinese into English, can you tell us about your translation process?
LLZ: I have translated Sharif’s poetry and other migrant worker writers into Chinese, so I am familiar with their writing styles. While translating Chinese writers into English this time around, I had to spend more time with their works. I had difficulty translating certain words used by Huashan and Shengzi, so I spoke with them to clarify their meanings. I was a bit surprised by our conversations, and they gave me a lot to think about. For instance, Huashan shared that he used many complex words and awkward expressions in his writing because he worked in a factory then. His physical discomfort and exhaustion directly influenced his style. Shengzi employs a lot of technical terms that I am not familiar with; these are everyday words for factory workers, but they are new to me, so I saw the gap and irony in the things I do. Also, Shengzi’s writings are non-fiction. I wanted to be as precise as possible, so it a bit differs from translating fictional writings.
AMMD: In Looking for the Proletariat (Brill, 2014), Stephen Hastings-King’s historiographical study on the French working-class writers’ collective Socialisme ou Barbarie, the author defines the imperative of working-class literature as that which
should provide a narrative viewpoint that allows the reader to imaginatively occupy sightlines along which shop-floor experience of the factory is organised. By occupying those sightlines, readers take over the author’s subject position . . . For a worker reader, the encounter is the recognition of common experience and a clarification of the links between this experience and possibilities for collective action.
Can you weigh in on this?
LLZ: Socialisme ou Barbarie was a radical Socialist collective, and in this context, I agree with Stephen’s point. Ideally, it is great to think that ‘the encounter is the recognition of common experience and a clarification of the links between this experience and possibilities for collective action’; yet I am quite concerned about ‘collective action’, based on the French experience, as applied to the writers here in Asia. I am not suggesting that workers cannot relate to experiences and opportunities for collective action—one could argue that this is the ultimate goal—yet I’ve learned that many Asian working-class writers write for a variety of purposes and experiences. Moreover, Stephen highlights the ‘worker reader’, which raises a crucial question I’ve been considering regarding contemporary working-class literature in Asia: who are the readers of these works? Even with my collection, I worry it will only reach intellectuals and urban bourgeoises. It is essential to cultivate a writing culture for the working class, yet I continue to worry about the practicality of such possibilities.
AMMD: Analysing the poetry of Filipino domestic workers—Rolinda Onates Española and Janelyn Duplingay of the Migrant Writers of Singapore, Ailenemae Ramos of the Migrant Writers of Hong Kong, and Malaysia-based Joan Santillan Amurao—you sketched them as ‘working-class writings [that] recognise their self-representation and resistance in our time under precarious circumstances and ground the individual writers in more extensive histories and resistance’. How do these four Filipino migrant poets expand the notion of what it means to be a ‘working-class writer’ and to contribute to ‘working-class literature’?
LLZ: Compared to the more ‘traditional’ working class, the struggles of migrant domestic workers now take on intersectional and hybrid dimensions, as do their writings, which arguably embody a renewal of working-class literature, characterised by greater inclusion of varied racialised and gendered identities, as well as a broader range of labouring experiences. Importantly, their writings open up the space for proposing new forms of working-class literature that move beyond the traditional depictions of industrial workers who can organise and be unionised in a national context. These narratives highlight the resilience and efforts of workers who engage in different ways of coping with and challenging systemic exploitation, even in the absence of formal union structures. This broadens our understanding of working-class struggles and the evolving nature of labour organisation in today’s global economy.
In doing so, such writings provide an alternative to perpetuating the limiting ‘migrant’ identity of these workers, instead helping to integrate their cultural productions with the broader working-class community rather than separating them. Also, reading the poetry of Filipina domestic workers within the broader history of working-class literature in the Philippines is to recognise the transformative significance of these writings. They amplify and transform the voices and experiences of the labouring classes, which have often been marginalised or misrepresented. In particular, this shift acknowledges current Filipina domestic workers as active producers of their own literary culture. This marks a departure from narratives that have traditionally been crafted by external, often elite, observers. Centring the literary creations of Filipina domestic workers thus becomes an important act of self-representation and cultural empowerment within the working-class literary tradition.
AMMD: Strikingly, the poetry collections of Duplingay (Language of My Heart, 2022), Amurao (An Unknown Princess, 2021), and Ramos (Beyond the Sunset, 2021) were published by Poetry Planet Book Publishing House, an indie press here in the Philippines founded by farmer-poet Marites Ritumalta, bypassing the gatekeeping of the local literary establishment. Would you say this is resemblant to how proletarian literatures had been impeded from inclusion in their respective ‘national’ canons, Southeast Asia and beyond?
LLZ: I was amazed to discover the publishing house, and it was a fortunate experience to speak with Marites Ritumalta (who keeps a low profile). In contrast to traditional publishing establishments, Poetry Planet Book Publishing House was founded in 2016, and during an interview with Ritumalta, a clear distinction was frequently made between her publishing house and what she referred to as ‘the traditional ones’. She expressed the view that aspiring writers face considerable obstacles in getting their works published, with only those with money, fame, and education being able to succeed in this regard.
She worked tirelessly for years to establish a platform for aspiring writers from underprivileged backgrounds like herself to get their work published. In contrast to the exclusive realm of elitist literary and cultural industry, Ritumalta’s publishing venture is dedicated to democratising the opportunity for marginalised writers to engage in literary production while fostering a space of public creativity. In various countries, there are similar cultural practices. For example, in China, a working-class writer named Wu Ji organised unofficial publications for the working-class writers and collected a significant body of literary works. I believe they are similar to older working-class collective cultural practices and productions, particularly the small publishing houses in Singapore that operated from the 1950s to the 1970s, which published works by worker and amateur writers. They are not included in the national canons for many reasons, and they don’t aspire to be included.
AMMD: No discourse on Asian working-class writings could be set out without crediting Japanese literature’s legacy in the early twentieth century: from the writers’ collectives Puroretaria bunka undō (The Proletarian Cultural Movement) and Nihon Puroretaria Sakka Dōmei (Japan Proletarian Writers’ League) to Hayashi Fusao’s Bungakuteki kaiso (Literary Reminiscences) and literary journals Bungei sensen (Literary Front) and Senki (Battle Flag). In latter-decade South Asia, what comes to mind are Ambalavaner Sivanandan, Mulk Raj Anand, and Dabindu, a writers collective of Sri Lankan factory workers. You wrote about the contemporary proletarian writings in mainland China and Singapore as well as of the Filipino and Bangladeshi diasporas. Can you speak further on how the terrain of Asian working-class writings has evolved?
LLZ: I was told by a friend that the first Asian proletarian novel should be Banaag at Sikat (Radiance and Sunrise, 1906) by Lope K. Santos. Would you agree? To address your question comprehensively, one could write an entire book—or several books. While I may not provide a broad overview here, I can highlight a notable change in working-class writing that occurred in the 1950s. During this period, working-class individuals began to write their own stories. Prior to this shift, most proletarian literature was created by Communist or Marxist authors who sympathised with the labouring class. The 1960s and 1970s witnessed a rapid growth in working-class cultural and literary productions. If you look at Vietnam, there is a substantial body of working-class literature produced by various worker writers from the 1950s to the 1970s. During this period, there were also literary awards dedicated to working-class literature. Over the past three decades, migrant worker literature has emerged as a vibrant literary movement. Taiwan’s migrant worker literary awards, for example, have been instrumental in publishing a variety of literary works by workers from Southeast Asian countries. They cultivated a lively culture. Additionally, migrant workers in China have also been actively involved in writing and publishing. This year, an anthology of workers’ writings was published in Hong Kong just a few months ago.
I have discussed the changes in working-class texts in my academic writings if you’re interested in knowing more. There is too much to say, and I don’t want to make this answer too long. I am most concerned about the lack of class discourse in discussing or studying these works. Otherwise, these writings can be easily devoured by the elitist institutions and bourgeois cultures.
AMMD: Sonali Perera’s No Country (Columbia University Press, 2014), to me, has been so instructive on working-class writings. When we speak of Asian Working-Class Literature, who are your influences? Are there Global Majority and/or Asian scholars, writers, and thinkers whose works shaped your philosophy, writings (both critical and creative), and ethos?
LLZ: Theoretically, I am greatly influenced by Magnus Nilsson, a scholar of Swedish working-class literature who has dedicated many years to this topic. I travelled to Sweden to study with him for a year, during which he taught me a great deal. I remember a good friend of mine, Diana Rahim, who is a brilliant working-class writer in Singapore. She once sent me a postcard in which she wrote something like: ‘I hope that in the future, one won’t need to travel to Sweden to study working-class literature.’
I’ve learned a lot from Jafar Suryomenggolo, especially his writings on Indonesian working-class literature. He is very kind. I am also influenced by a Chinese scholar named Zhang Huiyu. He not only wrote about workers’ literature and mass communication but also organised the Picun literary writing group in Beijing for worker writers. Additionally, he has assisted them with publications and provided other opportunities. I have heard so many good things about him from fellow worker writers, but he remains very humble. I have read many other scholars (such as American scholar Janet Zandy) who worked on this topic, and I believe that they all helped me.
AMMD: Are there Asian working-class writers, modern or from antiquity, whom you wish to see translated—or translated more?
LLZ: Too many. . . I am currently working on an anthology of Filipino domestic worker poetry in Chinese, so I have been translating their poems. In the Chinese-speaking world, there are many domestic workers, and the poetry of Filipino domestic workers resonates with them. I am also committed to Mengyu, a Chinese domestic worker, writer, and painter. She has created hundreds of paintings and wishes to compile some into a book about the lives of domestic workers. However, it is very hard to find a publisher for her work. I also spoke with Wu Xia about the possibility of translating her autobiographical writings into English. She was a factory worker and has written about her experiences. Currently, she is a single mother of two children and is struggling with poverty. I really want to do something for her, and I hope to do more.
AMMD: If you were to teach a course on Asian working-class literatures, what books and works would you wish to include as key texts? Who are the figures, classic and contemporary, that you would be inclined to incorporating in this syllabus?
LLZ: That would be a dream! However, I don’t think I will teach a course titled Asian Working-Class Literature, as it feels a bit too broad. I would need to divide the course into different historical periods, literary forms, or focus in on a more specific theme. I will just name a few works and writers here: Lope K. Santos’ Radiance and Sunrise (1906), Kani Kōsen (1929), Cao Ming’s early short stories written in the 1930s and 1940s, Amado V. Hernandez’s novel Mga Ibong Mandaragit (The Preying Birds, 1969), and one of Jin Yi’s novels, Give me My Youth Back (1970). For more contemporary works, Zhang Lijia’s English memoir, Socialism is Great: A Worker’s Memoir (2008), Rolinda Onates Española’s No Cinderella? Poems of a Filipina Domestic Worker in Singapore, 2016-2018, as well as Iron Moon: An Anthology of Chinese Worker Poetry—and maybe Asian Workers Stories, too.
Luka Lei Zhang, PhD, is the editor of Asian Workers Stories (Hardball Press, 2024). Currently a post-doctoral fellow at the University of Macau-English Department, she took her PhD in English at Nanyang Technological University-School of Humanities in Singapore with a project titled ‘Modes of Production of Working-class Literature from Asia’. She has contributed to The Routledge Companion to Working-Class Literature (Routledge, 2024), Working-Class Literature(s): Historical and International Perspectives (Stockholm University Press, 2020), as well as Concentric: Literary and Cultural Studies, Kritika Kultura, and The Journal of Working-Class Studies. A member of the Working-Class Studies Association, she has presented at the National University of Singapore, One City One Book Festival in Hong Kong, Malmö University’s Institute for Studies of Migration, and the University of Kent. She specialises in socialist literature, Asian Studies, migrant workers’ cultural production, and Marxism in literature. She is a translator of working-class literature.
Alton Melvar M Dapanas (they/them) is Asymptote’s editor-at-large for the Philippines and the author of M of the Southern Downpours (Australia: Downingfield Press, 2024), In the Name of the Body: Lyric Essays (Canada: Wrong Publishing, 2023), and Towards a Theory on City Boys: Prose Poems (UK: Newcomer Press, 2021). Their works—published from South Africa to Japan, France to Singapore, and translated into Chinese, Damiá, and Swedish—appeared in World Literature Today, BBC Radio 4, The White Review, Sant Jordi Festival of Books, and the anthologies Infinite Constellations (University of Alabama Press) and He, She, They, Us: Queer Poems (Pan Macmillan UK). Formerly with Creative Nonfiction magazine, they’ve been nominated to The Best Literary Translations and twice to the Pushcart Prize for their lyric essays. Find more at https://linktr.ee/samdapanas.