Syntax
I
have been reading a recently published collection of haiku by Robert Hobkirk, Haiku Avenue: 333 haiku poems. I became interested because it has garnered
more comments on amazon than most new haiku books and because Hobkirk takes a
syllabic approach to composing haiku. In
the ‘Introduction’ he writes, “All of the poems are in the classical Japanese
style of seventeen syllables, three lines of 5-7-5 syllables.” Since I have an ongoing interest in syllabic
haiku and its growing impact and practice, I thought I would give it a read.
Most
of the haiku are seasonal and embedded in Hobkirk’s locality. They are like snapshots of Hobkirk’s
world. And like most photoalbums, some
of the snapshots captured my interest, and some of them didn’t speak to
me. That is to be expected.
What
I noticed in Haiku Avenue, and what
stood out for me, is a tendency to write in a kind of stilted English. Here is an example:
169
Lightning
hits old bridge
reflection
flashes water
barge
passes under.
(Page
62)
Notice
the absence of articles where you normally expect them. Instead of ‘lightning hits old bridge’,
standard English would have ‘lightning hits the old bridge’. This kind of reworking of syntax is
highlighted in the next haiku:
170
Floating
down river
log
passes by iron bridge
out
into the bay
(Page
62)
Standard
English for line 1 would be ‘floating down the river’. And for line 2 something like ‘a log passes
by an (or ‘the’) iron bridge’. The
absence of articles in lines 1 and 2 is highlighted because of the use of an
article in line 3, ‘out into the bay’
instead of ‘out into bay’.
I
get the feeling that Hobkirk drops articles if that will help with the 5-7-5
line count, or he adds them for the same purpose. This creates an overall clunky feeling in the
collection. At least it does for me.
And
then I began wondering why I was responding this way. Poetry in general reconstructs language. For example, word order is often
changed. Or words are used in unusual
ways; a noun might be used as a verb or vice versa. Some poets, like Shakespeare, invent new
words to create a particular effect or highlight a particular meaning.
In
the world of free verse haiku, syntax is often reworked. In fact, among free verse haijin, the reworking
of syntax is a major topic in manuals for haiku composition. Free verse haijin often advocate for the
dropping of articles, minimizing verb usage, confining verbs to the present
tense, minimizing the use of modifiers (adjectives and adverbs); the list goes
on. At its extreme this program of
language reconstruction creates what I refer to as ‘Haiku Hybrid English’ (HHE),
which I think of as a dialect that is shared among a specific sub-group of
English speakers.
To
my mind, a lot of haiku written in HHE have the same kind of clunky feeling
that I noted in some of Hobkirk’s haiku.
This is the main reason I began doubting the free verse English language
haiku project; because the results so often are lacking in a sense of lyricism
and musicality. I am speaking in
generalities; there are significant exceptions.
Meaning there are those who write in free verse haiku who compose haiku
of great beauty. Yet, to my mind, free
verse haiku is dominated by what feels to me this kind of clunky, anti-lyrical
approach. At its furthest extreme, this
kind of reworking of English syntax leads to a cultivated obscurantism where language
is no longer used to communicate.
In
contrast, syllabic haijin tend to accept the English language as it is. There is no program among syllabic haijin to
reform the English language, to force it, or contort it, into an odd
dialect. At its best, say in the haiku
of Edith Shiffert or Richard Wright, one finds an easy, flowing, natural
English used in the service of poetic expression. All the articles and prepositions are there. And there is an overall feeling of rhythmic
flow as one moves from one haiku to the next.
It’s a flow that resembles the natural flow of conversation, the kind of
conversation one has with a trusted friend; the language is not a barrier but a
means for communication, sharing, and deepening relationship. Partly this flow is facilitated by the shared
syllabic shape; a rhythmic pattern is set up.
It is a pattern with variations, but the 5-7-5 pattern underlies all of
the haiku and this creates a dance like feeling, or a rhythmic current, a kind
of expectation is placed in the reader which is pleasingly met as one
progresses through the haiku collection.
This feeling resembles listening to music where a rhythmic pulse, like
3-4 time in a waltz, is presented and retained from measure to measure. Sometimes the composer will vary the rhythm
using syncopation or other devices, and then return to the regular pulse of the
piece. In a similar way, in a collection
of syllabic haiku, the 5-7-5 rhythm is sometimes slightly altered (5-6-5,
6-8-6, 4-6-4, etc.) and then there is a return to the central rhythmic
pattern. This doesn’t feel disruptive in
either case.
Though
it may seem odd to those who think of a syllabic approach to haiku as rigid, I
would have preferred Hobkirk alter the line count to include the articles of
standard English in his haiku. For
example, I would have preferred:
Floating
down the river
a
log passes by an iron bridge
out
into the bay.
This
would create a long count haiku of 6-9-5, a haiku of 20 syllables. Yet, from my perspective, I think it would be
more effective; more effective because the flow of the line is smoother, more
natural, more memorable.
On
this point, Hobkirk’s book of haiku has helped me to understand why syllabic
haijin have a tendency to compose long count haiku. I have noticed that when syllabic haijin
deviate from the 5-7-5 count, they are just as likely to compose a haiku a few
syllables over the standard count of 17, as they are to compose a haiku a few
syllables under the standard 17. The
range seems to be something like plus or minus 3 syllables, or 14 to 20
syllables. Though the norm is still
5-7-5, when needed, syllabic haijin feel comfortable altering the count. One can observe this in the haiku of James
Hackett which contain both short and long count haiku.
My
feeling is that there is an unstated principle operating here. That principle is that the demands of normal
English syntax should override a commitment to a particular count. I think this is what Hackett means when he
writes in his “Suggestions for Writing Haiku in English”:
“Write
in three lines which total approximately 17 syllables. Many haiku experiences can be well expressed
in the Japanese line arrangement of 5, 7, 5 syllables – but not all.”
This
is the 11th suggestion in his outline of how to approach haiku
composition in English. And it is
reflected in Hackett’s output. My
feeling is that what is in play here is how we understand the concept of ‘rule.’ If the 5-7-5 structure is, for syllabic
haiku, like a rule of a game, then one cannot deviate from it. Rules for a game are unyielding. If I move a chess piece incorrectly I am
either trying to cheat or I am ignorant of how the rules of chess work. If I see 5-7-5 as a rule like a rule for
chess, then I won’t want to deviate from that syllabic structure. From this perspective, I would prefer to mar
normal English syntax to retain the syllabic rule.
If,
in contrast, I see the syllabic count as an ingredient in a recipe, then it is
OK to change the exact count. Both
Wright and Hackett, to pick two influential examples, seem to view the 5-7-5
count as an ingredient in a haiku recipe rather than as a rule in a haiku
game. From the perspective of a haiku
recipe the demands of English syntax, of rhythm, and flow, could supersede the
demand for instantiating a specific count.
Just as when cooking a cake you might want to change the amount of
sugar, depending on who the cake is for.
If you know the cake is for someone who is on a strict diet, then you
might want to reduce the amount of sweetener.
On the other hand, if the cake is for a good friend’s sixtieth, some
special birthday, you might want to make the cake extra appealing by increasing
the amount of sweetener in the recipe.
The demands of the occasion will supersede the specifics of the recipe. In a similar way, the demands of standard
English syntax in syllabic haiku can, at times, displace the 5-7-5 syllabic
count.
It
appears to me that Japanese haijin, such as Basho, had a recipe view of haiku,
as opposed to a rule of a game view.
Though long count haiku in Basho are rare, they do exist. And they do not seem to have generated any
anxiety in Basho or his immediate followers.
I think this is a significant precedent to keep in mind for those of us
writing syllabic haiku in English, a precedent syllabic haijin should, in my
opinion, follow.
In
closing I want to say that there are many fine haiku in Haiku Avenue and that the above thoughts are not a review of the
book. Rather they are thoughts about
haiku composition that were stimulated by reading this collection of
haiku. A more focused review of Haiku Avenue will follow in another
post.
Update: I was reading from Richard Wright’s haiku
collection and came across a sequence which illustrates my observation about
how syllabic haijin are as likely to compose haiku slightly over the 17 count
as under the 17 count. Here it is:
277
The
chill autumn dusk
Grows
colder as yellow lights
Come
on in skyscrapers.
278
Streaks
of fire-flies
Freezing
the magnolias
As white
as ice.
279
This
September rain
Is
much colder than the wind
That
sweeps it along.
277 has
an 18 count, with line 3 having 6 counts: 5-7-6. 278 has a 15 count: 4-7-4 (some dialects
might count ‘fire’ as 2 syllables, which would make the haiku a 16 count with
5-7-4). And 270 returns to the standard
17 count of 5-7-5. The previous haiku
276 is also in 5-7-5. So the series of
four haiku use the following counts: 5-7-5, 5-7-6, 4-7-4, and then a return to
5-7-5.
This
is a good illustration of how Wright understands the 5-7-5 count as part of a
recipe which Wright will vary with the needs of expression and syntax allowing
for variations.
