Basho stands today as Japan's most renowned writer, and one of the most revered. Wherever Japanese literature, poetry or Zen are studied, his oeuvre carries weight. Every new student of haiku quickly learns that Basho was the greatest of the Old Japanese Masters.
Yet despite his stature, Basho's complete haiku have not been collected into a single volume. Until now.
To render the writer's full body of work into English, Jane Reichhold, an American haiku poet and translator, dedicated over ten years of work. In Basho: The Complete Haiku, she accomplishes the feat with distinction. Dividing his creative output into seven periods of development, Reichhold frames each period with a decisive biographical sketch of the poets travels, creative influences and personal triumphs and defeats. Scrupulously annotated notes accompany each poem; and a glossary and two indexes fill out the volume.
Reichhold notes that Basho was a genius with words. He obsessively sought out the right word for each phrase of the succinct seventeen-syllable haiku, seeking the very essence of experience and expression. With equal dedication, Reichhold sought the ideal translations. As a result, Basho: TheComplete Haiku is likely to become the essential work on this brilliant poet and will stand as the most authoritative book on the subject for many years to come. Original sumi-e ink drawings by artist Shiro Tsujimura complement the haiku throughout the book.
Known Japanese poet Matsuo Basho composed haiku, infused with the spirit of Zen.
The renowned Matsuo Bashō (松尾 芭蕉) during his lifetime of the period of Edo worked in the collaborative haikai no renga form; people today recognize this most famous brief and clear master.
Never so much was so shrewdly condensed in so little. Seventeen sound units called "on" with the structure of five, seven, five units in three minimalistic verses, preferably without the active inertia that a verbal tense implies, is all it takes to compose a Haiku. Nouns, adjectives and adverbs are the tools to juggle juxtaposition, wordplay, riddle and ancient wisdom. Two opposed images are fleetingly sketched, like a shooting star that prickles a borrowed memory in the back of the reader's mind, presented in a compressed form of conflicting forces that coexist in an imperfect but solid balance.
A light goes on, a small dot of blinding iridescence sparkles unevenly and the chirping of cicada, the splashing frog, the cawing crow are brought to life for a split of a second, only to be lost again to the deafening sound of an inanimate painting. Wait… Did that blade of grass dance, the branch pregnant with cherry blossoms creak? I listen to the steady pathway of sandals and stick performing a meticulous choreography of life experience distilled in metaphor, in visual aphorism.
Basho believed the lightness of words could bear the burden of meaning. His poetry had to mirror the simplicity of his life, the serenity of his fears, the anxiety of his long journeys, both torment and regeneration. The wanderer in him defeated the foibled human and liberated the poet. The rigorous technique and the strict rules of the renga masters became obsolete for Basho's purpose to illustrate without interfering with the inherent essence of words. He wanted to elevate the poetic expression to the purest of artistic forms and so his influence is mostly absent in his creative output, infusing the haiku with the power to transfigure the particular into the universal, prompting interaction between poem and reader. He couldn’t imagine that a new school of poets would ensue from this vision and set the founding pillars of Japanese aesthetics.
Take the poem below. One can detect Basho’s resolution to live a humble life devoid of material luxuries, although there is a tenuous shadow of dissatisfaction that reveals a man who still hasn’t found his place in the world:
“flowers in this world my wine is white my rice is dark” 163
Black and white present a visual contrast to the vivid image of flowers, which might imply the beginning of springtime, and in turn forebode the transitory buoyancy of the seasons. The crisscrossed colors used to describe basic ingredients of the Japanese diet imply their poor-quality and a lifestyle based on simplicity that is deeply attached to nature. And so the general statement of the first line is narrowed down to the ordinary traits of daily life and elevates it to the transcendental with its associative connotations.
Or,
“rippling waves the fragrance of wind in their rhythm” 964
This is a fine example of a haiku that distorts sensory perception. Is it the wind that we smell or the briny swell stirred by the sea breeze? Where is the cause-effect that would allow the reader to separate the waves from the wind, the fragrance from the rhythm? It is nowhere to be found because a cohesive force unites these words into an indivisible oneness that can’t be disassembled, and so sound, vision and smell are all scrambled up in a static snapshot of movement.
The man who wrote these verses was fully immersed in poetry. He himself became poetry and the boundaries between creator and creation disappeared without sacrificing the magic spell of his talents, of his delicately chosen words. Words that still light up the night sky today like flaring, fluttering fireflies in the darkness.
seasons in a journey worn sandals and words into the wild blue yonder
****** Note on the edition: This collection includes the complete haiku (1012 poems) by Basho, presented in seven sections that link the poet’s artistic development to the main biographical events that shaped his creative output. The supplementary material includes a detailed exposition on the haiku techniques and an incredibly well researched commentary with the original Japanese and a literal translation for each poem, which helps the reader to understand the wordplay and the “double entendre” that is ever present in the poems. Translating Japanese is a challenging, some might even say an impossible mission but I think Reichhold’s dedication and scholarship allows the reader to grasp Basho’s genius in its full splendor.
it had to be it had to be until the end of the year
Here's the book of all of Basho's haikus, which took 10 years for the translator to compile, and the quality shows well. The haikus are divided in seven development periods - with biographical sketches - from 1662 to 1664, and there are 1011 haikus to read. (Which is why it's a good idea to take it slow to read all of them - otherwise some numbness might set, which happened to me *oops*) Some haikus have short explanations attached to them, but may are more explained at the notes section at the back, with useful appendix stuff including haiku terms and Basho's biography in brief.
winter confinement again I'll lean on this post
Some poems are shown in 2-3 ways one can translate the text, or the poem has more than one version made. One or two are unfinished, the last line isn't there. Basho worked on rooting out pretentiousness and unnecessary earthy humor, and was a true perfectionist (which is why some haikus were worked on again and again). That said, he didn't really care much what his last haiku was - no real death poem from him - but really, what was there was well suited to be last; he was that good.
clear cascade scattered on the waves green pine needles
I have already read the "Narrow Road To Deep North" part (have it as a separate book). These haikus were so refreshing and simple, and with such great moods, even felt like I couldn't have enough of it. I could put so many haikus in this review that touched me. This is really one book that could be read while drinking some good tea...
hurry up and bloom the festival approaches chrysanthemum flowers
Excellent book of poetry. The translator did a great job of interspersing the poems with biographical sketches that did not go down lengthy tangents into her own thoughts on the writer's life and his work. These sketches were succinct and enhanced this collection of Haiku by Basho. Some of my favorites:
snowy morning all alone I chew dried salmon
early autumn the sea and rice fields one green
deep-rooted leeks when finished washing the coldness
winter mums covered with rice flour edge of the grinder
If you have never enjoyed the subtlety and craft of Haiku before then this would be an excellent collection to start with. If you have read Basho compilations before you will likely find a smattering of new pieces you haven't seen before (the translator claims this is the first complete volume of his Haiku), making it is still definitely worth the read.
Basho is truly the master, and Reinhold, like a good Haiku writer, removed herself from the subject as much as possible, putting together a fine work. A solid five stars.
I'm happy to say that Basho: The Complete Haiku is everything one would anticipate and more. For the dedicated reader and fan of Basho, it's all here: 1011 haiku, the complete output of a relatively taciturn haiku master (in comparison, Issa wrote over 20,000 haiku), all with accompanying notes, from a few words to paragraph length explications. The presentation method is chronological, as it should be, and divided up into 7 phases (as opposed to the standard 5 phases: see Makoto Ueda's Matsuo Basho) and each section is preceded by biographical info important to the given period. I found this method extremely helpful. To have presented the entire biography in the forward matter would have removed an immediacy that deepens understanding and necessitated much flipping back and forth. The appendices and back matter are a real bonus, including sections on haiku techniques, a chronology of Basho's life, a glossary of literary terms and a selected, succinct bibliography. For biographical detail, Reichhold seems to lean heavily on Makoto Ueda's seminal biography (which I'm reading now - ok, so the push isn't entirely over) but that's to be expected.
Down to the crux, however: the poems themselves. These translations veer away from the often disasterous academic all-inclusive approach. The translations are unique, lyrical, and eminently readable without dumbing down for the English reader. In general, there is a stripped down, less is more approach, somewhat reminiscent of the translation work of Lucien Styrk and Robert Hass. One thing this collection solidified for me, the non-academic reader as opposed to Japanese literary scholar, is how much I don't know and never really will about the original intent of what I feel to be a majority of these poems (and by extension, any translations from any of the haiku masters, including beloved Issa). The notes of both this Reichhold edition and of the Landis Barnhill edition I reviewed previously are what really brought this important point home and made me think long and hard about myself as reader.
The conclusion I've drawn from all this "thunking" is simply that the poems that connect, the ones that get through to a novice like myself, are those that have a universal appeal that transcends translation, technique, and cultural idiosyncrasies. I'm talking the spirit of haiku here and perhaps the universal impetus to write haiku in the first place. A speaking to the human condition, who we are, and what we do (oh, Gauguin, bless you for your question mark). But wait, aren't haiku supposed to be objective not subjective, speaking to nature and leaving out the personal? Well, yes, this transcendent spirit I'm speaking of includes that and more. This concentration on nature is the where of the who and what we do: our place in the world, who we are being defined by what we are.
Ah, but enough of my personal revelation. On to the poems or, to paraphrase the incandescently beautiful Joe Strummer, how about some music now, eh?
Of the 1000 plus haiku, I marked 45 or so that grabbed me, held me down, and said, ok, what (or, more precisely, how) do you think now? Previously, I'd selected 35 for further review from the 700 plus Barnhill Landis edition, so the proportion is consistent, realizing that he was being selective (i.e. picking the best). The Reichhold edition confirms for me that the later work was the finest, Basho getting better and better with time. Here are a few of those 45. When possible, I've tried to select haiku not highlighted in previous postings from other editions in order to give a fuller portrait of the poet.
A stunningly researched and immaculately presented compilation of the the complete surviving poems of Matsuo Basho (1644-1694). It contains 1012 haiku divided into seven chapters with accompanying introductory texts; a section of notes on the intracasies of each poem and the problems of translation; a section on the techniques Basho uses; and a glossary of Japanese terms used.
This book initially posed a problem for me: how to read it so I could get the most out of the book. I'm a slow reader to begin with and didn't want to spend a month on this book as I did with The Tale of Genji. I eventually settled on reading it this way: I started with "Appendix 1: Haiku Techniques," then read the "Introduction." With each haiku, I flipped back to the "Notes" to read the note on that poem. It was daunting at first, going back and forth 2024 times, but soon became second nature and I'm glad I read it that way. Like Genji, this book, at the very least, provides the reader with a great cultural experience when the notes are read along with the text. To be fair, though, this book is probably best digested over a lifetime rather than a week.
I remember being taught about haiku in grade school: a 3-line, 17-syllable poem in a 5-7-5 sound scheme that presents an image in the first two lines that is followed by a non-sequitur in the third line. Not very sophisticated, but simplistic enough for a 5th grader to grasp the concept. At 51, I don't recall the various attempts I made at writing haiku for my homework assignment, but I do recall that the haiku in my school reader was about a frog jumping into a pond.
Reading this volume, I think it probably was this:
"old pond a frog jumps into the sound of water"
While this doesn't follow the 5-7-5 sound scheme in translation, the Japanese original does: "furu ike ya / kawaku tobikomu / mizu no oto" and it was probably fleshed out to make it fit into a 5-7-5 scheme.
Turns out, one of Matsuo Basho's.
Basho is one of Japan's most revered literary figures. (He has been deified by both the Shinto and Imperial religions.) He started out as a low-ranking samurai serving a feudal lord and publishing poems in anthologies; after leaving the lord's service, he continued publishing poems to gain prestige and status until he gathered enough pupils (who would provide food and shelter for him) to devote his life completely to writing. While he was never a monk, Basho spent most of his life living in poverty (the state most conducive to becoming one with his art) and travelling as one across the whole of Japan (joined by various pupils--who were responsible for most of Basho's output surviving to the present day as Basho only published one small book of poetry in his lifetime).
The poetry of Matsuo Basho is breathtaking in ts scope and startling in its intimacy. Each captures a single fleeting moment in time, listening to a cuckoo in the early morning hours outside a shrine or eating a bowl of jelly noodles with a friend. In fact, nearly half of the 1012 haiku in this book have a preceding note to them on the occasion of their writing. The least of his poems reveal a rigorous craftsmanship as he continually revises poems in search of the right word; the best of them border on divine revelation as the reader is given a glimpse of the essence of his image.
If I had to choose a single one poem in this volume to sum up this my thoughts and feelings about this extraordinary book, it would be this:
"this pine sprouted in the age of the gods now in autumn"
Am I in the autumn of my life? Do I pine for my younger days? Even if the answer to both are no, the works of Matsuo Basho sprouted from an age when gods really did walk the earth and his legacy is still as solid as the mighty pine. Would it add anything to know that the preface of this poem reads "Before the Shrine"?
I've already started rereading this book, but I expect this second reading will probably last the rest of my life.
how touching to exist after the storm chrysanthemum
-Basho
When I first learned about haiku I was downright obsessed with them. I would write dozens and dozens of them. Sometimes several in the course of a single night (it would actually prevent me from getting to sleep ... but then I would wake up with fun stuff to read).
Of course, not all of them were good. Many were average to just terrible ... but others I still look back on and smile at. I just loved the challenge of trying to convey as much as possible using the smallest amount of words. The ability to capture a moment in time, perfecting it, and like a photographer when he waits for just the right moment, and he’s in that Goldilocks zone, and the sunlight is in that sweet spot.
Click.
And there you have it. Saved forever. In the simple sublimeness of a half dozen words you froze a memory. That’s another great use for haiku. A lot of times I’ll write a haiku about a certain feeling, tone, etc., and years later I’ll read it again and it still takes me back there as if I wrote yesterday and was enjoying that same experience.
Sometimes they are simple observations written in a beautiful way ... other times they are like riddles, where the object or topic is hidden, and can only be viewed through the imagination.
Take this Basho haiku for example.
no bell ringing what does the village do on a spring evening
There’s a lot of ambiguity in this poem. Why would there be bell ringing? Is it a form entertainment? We know more about what isn’t going on then what is. This is another thing that haiku is famous for. Because they are, by their nature, obscure and short on the details, it’s up to the reader to “finish the poem”. A good haiku doesn’t tell you what to feel, but rather shows you ... by using images and contrasts, the writer meets us halfway.
This is a great book that tells the life story of the most famous haiku writer that ever lived, Matsuo Basho. So famous in fact, that the Shinto religion basically exalted the man as a deity: “The Patron Saint of Haiku”. It includes over a thousand of his haiku, so it’s something to read a little bit here and there and come back too ... my mistake was probably reading these all a bit too quickly and getting fatigued or “numbed”, where you might have gained more from a particular haiku in small doses.
Many of these haiku are hard to connect too because of the distance of culture they were written in, and the length of time (400 years) that separates us from our modern world. But there is enough fantastic ones that makes you forget the ones you didn’t care so much about.
One of the my criticisms with the book is in an issue of translation. Some of these haiku seemed clunky ... and yet feels like I’ve read them before. Take this haiku for example.
from deep in the peony’s stamens a bee crawls a reluctant parting
For those familiar with the genre, it will hit you right away that this is incredibly wordy for a haiku and doesn’t really flow off the tongue all that well. Yet I remember reading this same haiku elsewhere only it was translated much more simply:
a bee staggers out of the peony
This version is much more clean and concise and does all the things the first version did without all the unnecessary wordiness such as “reluctant parting”. You can simply stay “staggers” and get the same message across. Alas, such is the nature of translating Japanese into English.
One of the reasons why Basho became so famous was how he redefined how people thought of poetry in his day ‘n’ age. People in that time period used pretentious language and only used poetry to talk about things of beauty and higher ideals. In a nutshell, it was something considered “high end” and not for the common folks to pursue. While Basho’s work often talked about the mundane and even things considered “too vulgar” to be used as poem. Like this particularly surprising zinger:
fleas and lice now a horse pisses by my pillow
Classy. It makes me think of a traveler being forced to sleep in a barn, and being suddenly awakened by the unexpected splash.
Here is a particular illuminating passage that does a good job at describing what a haiku often tries to achieve:
“Buddhist teachings and the poetry of Basho train us to search for the essence, the very being, of even the smallest, most common things. One of the goals of poetry is to penetrate this essence, to grab hold of it words and pass it on to the reader, so purely that the writer as author disappears. Only by stepping aside, by relinquishing the importance of being the author, can one capture and transmit the essence—the very is-ness—of a thing.” ... “A good haiku captures both the momentary and the eternal.”
Were I too conclude all the haiku I greatly enjoyed from this anthology this review would be way too long (and at the point, you might as well have just purchased the book instead of reading this view).
But I will list a dozen or so of some of my favorites:
— —— —
people in this world don’t see these flowers - chestnuts under the eaves
from which flowering tree I don’t know— but the fragrance!
a dragonfly unable to settle on the grass
autumn night dashed to bits in conversation
clouds of fog quickly doing their best to show one hundred scenes
crawling out from under the shed toad’s voice
departure but also a hopeful future a green orange
each with its own light fireflies in the trees lodge in flowers
ears of barley grasping for support at the parting
human voices returning on this road autumn departure
if taken in my hand it would vanish in hot tears autumn frost
in the moonlight a worm secretly burrows into a chestnut
laziness helped out of bed by spring rain
leave aside literary talents tree peony
letting the mountain move into the garden a summer room
many islands broken into pieces summer’s sea
morning glories in the daytime a lock lowered on the gate
my dwelling the moon’s square of light at the window
now children come run among jewels hailstones
on a mountain path where something might charm you a wild violet
you make the fire and I’ll show you something wonderful: a big ball of snow!
wrapping dumplings with one hand brushing back her bangs
today is the day people grow older first wintry shower
unable to settle down the traveling heart a portable heater
sleep on a journey then you will understand my poem autumn winds
soon to die yet showing no sign the cicada’s voice
I first encountered Basho in Sam Hamill's translation in a university course taught by poet David McCann; later, I devoured Robert Hass's translation, on the poet Peter Richards's recommendation. I loved his sensibility and deep spirituality immediately, and he remains my favorite haiku poet (although, to this day, I am still occasionally troubled by his self-avowed refusal to help the small child and the two prostitutes he met on his deep north journey...). This edition, translated by Jane Reichhold, distinguishes itself by being the first edition to include every single haiku Basho ever wrote, grouped into sections based on the poet's life chronology and development. If your lack of familiarity with the translator's other work makes you wary to sample it (as I was wary to open this book until recently, despite having received it as a Christmas gift eight years ago!), you'll be reassured to learn there is a comprehensive appendix in the back that includes, for each poem, the original Japanese characters, a romanization, and a literal word-for-word gloss, in addition to explanatory notes that elucidate the allusions, cultural and historical context, ribald puns, double entendres, etc. This was a great book to begin the year with (and not only because it mentions the New Year holiday more times than probably any other book in existence). A few poems that stood out to me this time around:
clams survived and became valuable year's end
the moon disappears afterward the desk has four corners
(written on the occasion of a friend's father's death)
vast grassy plain may nothing touch you but your hat
(a valedictory poem for a friend departing on a journey)
wrapping dumplings with one hand brushing back her bangs
A great way for the non-Japanese speaker to begin to appreciate the depth and subtlety of Basho's work. The scholarship is an accessible view into the man, his time, and the culture in which he worked. The notes are an excellent explanatory source and the alternate translations helped me get an idea of the subtle nuances Basho is working with. An enjoyable book one can dip into and come back to again and again.
reading Basho’s poems learning on a summer’s day I ‘m a poor haijin
The 2008 collection Basho: The Complete Haiku by Matsuo Basho is translated by Jane Reichhold with an introduction, biography and notes. This is an excellent introduction to traditional Japanese haiku. Basho (1644-1694), after all, was an early practitioner and developer of this unique poetic art form; he set many of the standards for this type of poetry that are still practiced today. Reichhold, a honored haijin (i.e. haiku writer) in her own right, has gathered all of Basho’s haiku under one cover. Surprisingly there are only 1012. After an interesting introduction, the haiku are presented in chapters that describe seven different stages or passages of the poet’s life. Then the verses are examined again in Notes where each haiku is shown in Japanese, Romanized Japanese for the sound counters, and in English. Each poem has the year it was written and to which season it belongs along with expository notes to explain the subtlety of the verse in terms of history, symbols and the Japanese language. Reichhold also provides a descriptive list of 33 haiku techniques to help the reader to better appreciate the art form as well as other useful back matter. This is an excellent book that I would add to my personal library.
Frankly, there are a lot of uninteresting poems in the book. Lots of cherry blossoms and lots of snow.
But when they work, they _work_. My ratio is about one memorable poem for every 20 or so. Since there are 1,011 poems in the book, thats really not bad at all.
Really, what one reads is the translator. I've yet to compare two different translators' renditions, but from what I've read online of Basho's this book is pretty solid.
Moreover, the translator is judicious and gives very detailed notes of each translation. Each poem's first line is indexed, which is helpful as they seldom have titles.
The biography and discussion are well written and to-the-point.
Also of note is that the book offers the complete works of Basho, not an anthology.
The kind of book you can keep reading forever. Great layout and intro to each "chapter" gives you a wonderful view into the poetic genius and life of Basho. Also has a nice section with original Japanese and direct translations.
Admittedly, four stars is quite contrary to the 2.9 I gave the earlier Basho book I had read, Im not going to change my other review however because I think the formatting of the previous book could still have some room for improvement. Anyway, since reading ‘The Narrow Road to the deep North’ I have become much more educated on first of all, who Basho is/was, and secondly, the complexity & sociality that comes from the poems themselves and the work that has gone into translating them. This is an absolutely wonderful book to have on the back burner to just pick up now and then and enjoy a journey across Japan through playful, ambiguous verses, as well as getting some cultural education in there too. Great imagery, and Andrew Fitzsimmons did a very humble & great job at making these poems sound (Id like to hope) equally as beautiful in English as they would have in Edo era Japanese.
“Musashino Plain, an inch tall and an inch loud, the deer and its call”
"At one of his last gatherings with the Tokyo group, Basho tried once more to explain his technique of lightness. "The style I have in mind these days is a light one in form and in the method of linking verses, one that gives the impression of looking at a shallow river with a sandy bed."
It is no wonder that several of his disciples were so at odds with this idea that they broke away from Basho and started new groups. They tried to retain the direction of his previous works, which reflected a belief that all things are mutually communicable and that a person can become one with other creations of nature."
The seventeenth-century poet Basho (who named himself after a banana tree, Musa basjoo) was kniwn as the Saint of Haiku. This book contains all 1000+ haikus he wrote in English translation. Often ephemeral, sometimes incomprehensible, sometimes enlightening, causing a subtle shift in consciousness, these haiku are to be consumed over and over again. Apart from the translations, all haiku are also provided in Japanese, transliteration and word-by-word translation. My only wish is to own a good hard copy of this book.
Would not recommend this unless you either really understand poetry, have the time to dissect, and don’t mind words thrown into a page.
These poems are words thrown into a page in an artistic way. It took em some time to finish because I needed the time to be able to clear my mind and dissect it.
There's so much more to this than frogs jumping into old ponds... Stolen so many ideas for poetry lessons! Only problem is/I cannot stop counting/my syllables now.
This is the one (1) book I had checked out when the pandemic hit and the libraries closed. All things considered, it's a really chill book to have if you can only have one book.
Bashō (pronounced BAH-SHOW, means "banana tree") was the pen name of Matsuo Chūemon Munefusa, a Japanese writer who lived during the late 17th century and wrote from 1662 until his death in 1694. This is a complete collection of his haiku, a poem form known by the West for its three-line pattern of 5-7-5 sound units, but it's so much more than that, and Reichhold's examination of Bashō's poetry gave me a deeper understanding of haiku as well as a new appreciation for it.
The book starts with an introduction to Bashō, the political and cultural climate of his time and his life and legacy, and then the poems are broken up into seven chronological sections, each with their own brief introduction. Each poem is numbered, and in the back—for each poem—you can find the original, a romaji rendering, an exact translation, and Reichhold's notes, which are an excellent reference and include historical, geographical, and cultural context, personal details about Bashō's trips and daily life, as well as notes on language usage, word play and possible sexual references. Also included are the year the poem was written and what season it represents.
Reichhold's translations are faithful to Bashō's words, and occasionally she even offers two or more takes on the same poem in order to illustrate the nuance present in the language of the original. Because of this, there are times her translations don't make much sense without the additional information in the translator's notes. I read this book side by side with David Young's selected translations in Moon Woke Me Up Nine Times and I could see the different choices they made in their translations, and it was fascinating to explore how those decisions changed my understanding—and enjoyment—of the poems. In general, I prefer Young's more lyrical translations, which, unlike Reichhold's, never require any additional context. At times, though, Young includes punctuation like question marks and exclamation points that feel too loud to me, and in those cases I often preferred Reichhold's quieter versions.
The book contains a glossary of notable terms, a first line index, and even an appendix with thirty-three haiku techniques with explanations and examples. I almost wish I'd read that section first. It would have helped me better understand the format of the poems, including the idea that each haiku is make up of a phrase (one line, split into two) and a fragment.
All in all a wonderful guide to Bashō's poetry and a fantastic resource.
Contains: mention of rape on page 249 (in the notes for poem #79); implied child harm in poem #88.
"Good old Basho!" - James Bond, You Only Live Twice by Ian Fleming
With these words I was introduced via unconventional methods to this haiku master. Ian Fleming may have been a sexist and a racist - but his appreciation of the finer things in a less than refined atmosphere must be acknowledged.
Basho's haiku defined generations of Japanese haiku poetry - even earning him the status of a sort of haiku god or Kami as the Japanese call him. The poetry of haiku is very pared down expressions of nature in a set structure that is able to invoke the strongest of mental images from so little, that the power of haiku as an artform is underestimated.
Haiku appears in Western poetry and literature from everywhere from the James Bond books by Ian Fleming, to the Beat Generation poets, and even to stuff that's more contemporary like Zombie Haiku and Chuck Palahniuk's Fight Club where the nameless narrator makes what's meant to be calming poems of nature into passive aggressive fury at society.
All this we wouldn't have without Basho - the much argued master of haiku who spent many years revising the haiku and travel journals he created as he lived a kind of monk lifestyle even though he was not ordained. He traveled in perilous times, but his tenacity to experience the nature Japanese society would later lose hold of is heartwarming when we now live in urbanised cities trying to shut nature away.
A remarkably well assembled book. Haiku is so difficult to translate because of the slippery/polysemic nature of the Japanese, but on the whole the translations are nice. Good autobiographical notes at appropriate times, without interrupting the poetry.
The complete index in the back with Japanese and literal translations, along with explanatory notes is so valuable. There are a few notable grammatical errors that send the translations off, but not too many. The first-line index is nice, but it is based on her English translation, which makes finding something difficult if you're memory is someone else's translation (or your own). A Japanese first-line index would have made this work complete.
I'm giving this book props for the tremendous scholarship that went into it. But unless you are really passionate about haiku you are unlikely to get much from this collection. For one thing, haiku have a sort of necessary immediacy about them and as such they exist in a cultural context that is very specific. Many, I would say most, of the haiku in this collection simply don't survive the transition from 17th century literary Japan to 21st century America. It may simply be that the translations could be better - I have no way of judging that. In any case, I found myself skimming the pages and by the end I was very glad to put the book down.