A series of essays inspired by books that I own, talking about their history, some reviews and also how they came to be on my shelves. With over 6,500 books here and several more arriving each week I doubt I'll ever be short of a topic.
A Japanese poem of seventeen syllables, in three lines of five, seven, and five, traditionally evoking images of the natural world.
Oxford reference
Almost certainly the master, and certainly the best known outside Japan, of the Japanese poetry style known as haiku is Bashō, a poet who lived from 1644 to 1694 and produced the most elegant works in this form. However as can be seen from the definition of haiku it is an extremely difficult poetic style to translate as in theory to do it properly the translator has not only to render the meaning of the poem but also to express it in the syllable limitations. Which between two such different languages as Japanese and English, or indeed any of the ‘western’ languages, adds an extra level of complexity to the task which frankly could destroy the meaning.
The two short volumes I have of Bashō’s poetry are both by Penguin although published twenty years apart, one to mark sixty years of Penguin Books (in 1995) and the other eighty (2015). They are both extracts from the Penguin Classics volume ‘On Love and Barley: Haiku of Bashō’ originally published in 1985 and translated by Lucian Stryk a Polish born American poet and professor of English at Northern Illinois University. This book has six haiku on each page and has sixty one pages of poetry so just over 360 poems in all. whilst ‘Haiku’ has a wonderful austerity of design with just one poem per page over sixty pages and ‘Lips too Chilled’ has two per page over fifty six pages. There is surprisingly little duplication between the two short books so I have somewhere around 150 haiku by Bashō which admittedly is still well short of half of his output but allows for an appreciation of his work. Stryk does sometimes attempt to stick to the rigid format of haiku but is quite happy to divert from this where the sense of the poem would be lost in translation, which I think is a perfectly fair way to approach the rendering between the two languages as I would much rather appreciate the meaning of the poets words than suffer the pedantic imposition of form. Let’s explore a little of the poets work in the title poem from the 2015 volume:
Lips too chilled for prattle – autumn wind
Not perhaps his finest work, I prefer:
Storming over Lake Nio; whirlwinds of cherry blossom
As with that I can picture the scene and the paucity of words adds a starkness to the image which would be lost with a longer form. So who was Matsuo Bashō? Well as I mentioned at the beginning he lived in the second half of the 15th century in Japan and as is common in the far east his first name (Matsuo) is his family name. Bashō is not even his real given name as he was born Matsuo Kinsaku, he took the name Bashō from the Japanese banana plant outside the hut built for him by his followers in the later part of 1675 as by then he was already a well known poet and this hut clearly inspired him.
New Year – the Bashō-Tosei hermitage a-buzz with haiku
Bashō is also well known in Japan as a traveller making many long walks, usually alone despite the dangers of bandits. But his best known walk, taking 150 days and covering roughly 2,400km (around 1,500 miles) was done in 1689 with one of his students and inspired his great travel book ‘The Narrow Road to the Deep North’, which when it was published posthumously further embellished the master’s fame.
Ramblings on my bookshelves 