by Jisu Bang and Tingcong Lin

Could you tell us about your area of research?

I am currently working on the history of linguistics in relation to Aryan, and the impact of linguistics on India. Although I’m not an India specialist, I think it’s actually the most fascinating country in the world to study this topic. Linguistics – thinking about language – had a tremendous impact on the way people think about India. People often compare India to China, so there is a very interesting contrast between them – the two massive Asian states today. These two countries have totally different organizational principles, ideologies, and so on.

So this is actually a very sensitive topic: understanding the impact of colonial linguistics and the Indian response, which is extremely varied and complex. I am struggling to get it to make sense, to get a shape on this topic. I have always been interested in the politics of language descriptions: how describing languages fits into wider political issues. It’s everywhere, so you don’t need to do “field work”. You just walk around Hong Kong and find something to think about.

You have been teaching in Hong Kong since 1989. What was your first impression of Hong Kong when you arrived? How has it changed?

My first impression upon stepping out of the airplane was that the place was baking-hot (laugh). Back then, Hong Kong was a much more uptight and socially divided place, whereas now it’s a far more mixed-up place. Both the Chinese community and non-Chinese community have become more diverse and fluid – demographically and culturally. This change is especially noticeable in the part of the city where I live and work, the School of English in particular, and the University of Hong Kong in general. I view this as a very pleasant and healthy change.

You have done extensive and very interesting research on Hong Kong’s language and culture. Do you often wander around the city? Which are your favorite parts of the city?

Indeed. I like Sham Shui Po, which presents lively and vernacular pictures of Hong Kong. It is a joy to explore it on foot. I also like hiking on weekends. It is enjoyable to escape the city and venture into the wilderness, where you can hardly see a building. Hiking is like an antidote to my city life. While there are many places I like, the area around Tai Po stands out as one of my favorites.

In 2005, you published A Dictionary of Cantonese Slang, which is a seminal work on the subject. How did you learn the language at the beginning?

Back then, learning Cantonese was quite challenging for me. In the University, I was surrounded by people who spoke English, and when I went out onto the streets, people generally spoke to me in English due to my appearance. There was no Youtube to help me learn the language. The existing dictionaries were all outdated, but these turned out to be my learning resources. For me, the only way to learn the language was by studying it, collecting data from the dictionaries and other materials with the help of research assistants. Besides research, I watched a lot of Hong Kong films and listened to the radio, especially the phone-in shows.

In your 2011 article Vernacular Spaces and ‘Non-Places’: Dynamics of the Hong Kong Linguistic Landscape, you read the city “as structured in part by a dynamic relationship between a smooth, cool, metallic future and a cluttered, quasi-organic, disordered, ‘vernacular’ past”. Twelve years later, how would you reflect on this dynamic?

I believe [the dynamic] is still there, and it is still very powerful. If you visit Sham Shui Po or any other vernacular area, there’s an underlying assumption that some of the buildings there will be gone in ten or twenty years. There is a persistent sense of the vernacular side fading, replaced by swaths of new blocks with minimal street life. Also, this dynamic means that a sense of nostalgia is constantly being attributed to the vernacular side.

What are your interests outside of academia?

As said, I like hiking. I guess I’m quite fond of not being in the city. Hiking may be the best thing you could do here, except that it’s too hot now. The thing I like about hiking is that you often end up in a place you would never normally visit. Once I was hiking with my colleague and, in the middle of nowhere, we saw an old lady with hundreds of fridges outside her place; I’ve also seen guys in paintball fights in the middle of nowhere. So there are these many funny parts of Hong Kong you might unexpectedly see when you go hiking. I used to play cricket too, as a way to meet people outside the university. I met a very interesting mix of people, especially South Asians who tend to be fanatical about cricket.

Do you have any advice or message for young researchers – perhaps those in the School of English, or others just in general?

As I get older, I value people writing clearly and not being overwhelmed by theory. This is a difficult thing to do: dealing with a huge theoretical weight that sits on everything today. We have also become very reflexively aware of all kinds of methodological, political, and ideological problems, so it’s very hard to find your own voice in such a noisy environment. It’s hard to find a focus and a narrative that is your own. When I was a student, the problem was finding stuff. Now the problem is dealing with the huge amount of ideas and materials available, while keeping your focus. That’s why you should write clearly and articulate a clear position.