Why I'm Not A Minimalist

There is a certain esthetic dominating the Haiku and Tanka communities in the U.S. and also, I understand, Britain; perhaps the English speaking world in general. This esthetic view is called “minimalism”. It’s operative slogan is “less is more”. Writing concisely, with a taut or tight presentation, is encouraged and thought of as an ideal.

It’s not the way I write in general and it’s not the way I write Tanka or Haiku in particular. I have no objection if people want to adopt the minimalist esthetic; some excellent poetry has been penned under minimalist guidance. However, minimalists often criticize non-minimalists so I thought I would take a few moments to offer a different perspective, an apology for a non-minimalist perspective on Haiku and Tanka.

First, though, for the reader who may not know exactly what I’m referring to, I’d like to offer an example of a Haiku done in both a minimalist and a non-minimalist manner. I’m going to use a well-known Haiku by James Hackett, a British Haiku poet, to show the differences in the two approaches. First Hackett’s Haiku:

A bitter morning:
sparrows sitting together
without any necks.

This is a full count, non-minimalist, Haiku. It has a seasonal reference. In short, it is a traditional Haiku both in terms of syllabics and in terms of topic. Here is a minimalist re-write:

Cold morning
Sparrows together
No necks

Or perhaps:

Cold
Sparrows
No necks

The minimalist would look at the Hackett Haiku and immediately see it as too wordy. I think Line 3 in particular offends minimalist esthetics because of the redundancy of “without any”. There is no need, from a minimalist perspective, for the word “any”, “without necks” would do in expressing the meaning. Even shorter, and therefore better from the minimalist view, would be “no necks”. In Line 1 the article “A” isn’t necessary; minimalists tend to eliminate articles, regarding them as extraneous and “padding”. The word “bitter” is too subjective; how do we know what the sparrows are feeling? So the minimalist would remove it, opting for the more objective “cold”. In Line 2 “sitting together” has an element of redundancy; “together” is sufficient to depict the scene. And perhaps some minimalists would consider the word “sparrows” alone sufficient. Hacking away at Hackett’s Haiku, the minimalist would remove what they consider to be unnecessary elements in the way I have suggested.

Dear Reader, which do you like? I confess that I prefer the original Hackett Haiku. Using this Haiku as a reference, what follows are random comments on the minimalist perspective and why I prefer a different approach. The comments are in no particular order.

1. Personally, I never approach a poem with the idea in mind of “using as few words as possible” (a phrase I have repeatedly read in minimalist contexts). As a syllabic poet, my approach is to allow my mind to expand to the contours of the particular form I am writing in. This approach resembles a potter deciding to make a cup; once that decision is made the potter proceeds in a way that conforms with that decision. Having decided to make a cup, the potter won’t produce something flat, like a tile. There is a form to a cup; it has to be a shape that can hold liquid. There is a form to a plate; it needs to be flat enough to place food on it. Similarly, there is a shape to a Haiku and a shape to a Tanka and once I decide that I am writing a Tanka, and not a Sonnet or Tetractys or Free Verse, the shape of the Tanka determines many decisions that follow in the writing.

2. For the syllabic poet the form of a type of poetry has meaning. This is something that the free verse approach to Haiku and Tanka miss. There is a rhythm and pulse involved in the traditional shape, the traditional syllabic count, of Haiku and Tanka that transcends any particular manifestation of those forms. That is why the syllabic approach to Haiku and Tanka appeals to many, because the form itself is seen to have beauty and meaning.

3. One of the reasons I am not a minimalist is that I have a visceral dislike for the kind of English it generates. I sometimes refer to this type of English as “Haiku Hybrid English”. It is an approach to English which lacks flow and a sense of pulse or rhythm.

4. The elimination of redundancy is a logical consequence of a minimalist approach. In the quoted Haiku by Hackett I mentioned that Line 3 in particular violates minimalist canons because of the redundancy of “without any”. But redundancy and repetition are features of any language. Repetition of meaning assists in communication. The reason repetition and redundancy appear in our ordinary speech is that it ensures that the meaning we are trying to get across has a better chance of being received by the listener or reader. This is true not only of language, but also of music; both in instrumental music and in song. Themes in instrumental music are repeated, deliberately, so that the listener can be more secure about the center around which variations are played out. In song, a melody is repeated while the lyrics may change. In most songs there is a chorus which is repeated at regular placements.

Repetition in poetry is usually not as exact as one finds in music; but there are exceptions. Take Robert Frost’s famous “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” with its famous repeated last line, “The woods are lovely, dark and deep, but I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go before I sleep.” The repetition of the “miles” line is perfect and deepens the impact of the poem. Readers find the repetition fitting and meaningful.

In other words, an approach to poetry which eliminates redundancy and repetition runs the risk of being obscure.

5. From a syllabic perspective the minimalist approach is unbalanced. The syllabic poet uses two primary techniques when writing in a specific form such as Tanka and Haiku. Those two techniques are trimming and padding. Trimming is used to shorten a line when it goes beyond the parameters of the form. Padding is used to lengthen a line which isn’t long enough for the parameters of the form. It takes practice in using padding and trimming to know when to use them, to what extent, and to use them effectively. It resembles a potter knowing when to remove clay from some clay spinning on the wheel, and when to add some clay in order to attain just the right shape.

The minimalist, however, only uses trimming. In fact, minimalists often criticize a Haiku or Tanka by saying that it is “padded” or “wordy”. But there are good reasons to pad a Haiku or Tanka such as: rhythm, meter, alliteration, assonance, rhyme, or to create a parallelism, etc. True, one shouldn’t add words just to add words; and there instances where a short count Haiku or Tanka is the right choice. On the other hand, one shouldn’t trim just to trim, just to reduce the syllable count to the minimal number possible; there are instances where a long count Haiku (say 19 to 21 syllables) or Tanka (say 35 to 38 syllables) is the right choice. Again, what is needed is a balanced approach.

In closing I would say the reason I’m not a minimalist is because I see too many Haiku and Tanka that seem to me to be of great beauty that do not fit in with the minimalist esthetic, because I do not think that Japanese Haiku and Tanka poets ever operated on a minimalist basis, and because I am willing to pad a line of a Haiku or Tanka if I think it will make the poem more meaningful and more accessible to the reader. Again, I have no quarrel with those wishing to pursue a minimalist approach; I wish them well. As for me, though, it’s not an approach that nourishes my creativity and so I have opted for another way.