Friday, 28 February 2014

What is haibun? Version 2

This is the introduction to The Book of Ways, to be published in Autumn 2014 by Red Squirrel Press.

What is haibun?

Japanese literature began with the tanka poem form in the 8th century, the first novels (by Sei Shonagon and Murasaki Shikibu) in the 10-11th centuries, and the verse form renga in the 11th century, from which hokku and haiku later emerged. Haibun evolved from haiku.

The best known example of the form is Matsuo Basho’s Oku no Hosomichi – Narrow Road to the Interior – a poetic record of a journey made in 1689. His friend and fellow poet Sora accompanied him on part of his journey, and they composed together in the manner of renga – linked verse – with Basho’s narrative. Many other Japanese writers have used the form since then, but its popularity in the West dates from the late 20th and early 21st century, when European and American writers discovered it for themselves.

So what exactly is it? The magazine Haibun Today has on its website a collection of diverse and often contradictory definitions. Basho simply says it is haikai no bunsho – writing in the style of haiku. Shiki’s followers equate it with shaseibun – sketching in words. Most commentators agree on two things: they should contain prose written in the spirit of haiku; and they should contain, often as a conclusion, a haiku. The haiku should parallel but not epitomise the prose. ‘The prose becomes the narrative of an epiphany, while the haiku is the epiphany itself.’ (Bruce Ross: Narratives of the Heart, World Haiku Review, vol 1, 2002)

Most haibun contain one haiku, some more, fewer none. The prose section is often, but not always, the record of a journey, real or allegorical. That has led some to characterise the haibun as a waybook, and that is the reason for the book’s title. The risk is that a haibun collection becomes a series of travel notes, which I have tried hard to avoid: this is poetry.

You may think that, given the flexibility of the form, that anything goes. Far from it. As with any other poetic form, there are techniques – things which work and things which do not. There are skills to learn, and styles to develop. There are fashions too, especially in Western haibun. There’s a recent tendency in some quarters to drastically shorten the prose sections, but I can see no logical reason for this, and it loses a lot of the poetry. The length of a haibun should depend solely on the needs of the narrative.

Some of these haibun relate to wanderings in other countries, but I’ve also included poems written at home in Scotland, together with poems reflecting my scientific background.

In this collection some haibun contain tanka and other short verse forms rather than haiku, but by and large the structure of prose plus one or more haiku has been adhered to, as has the 5-7-5 haiku structure. Some haiku are non-seasonal; some are closer to senryu, and many do not have the kireji – the cutting word. But there is precedent; Basho himself sometimes experimented in these ways. ‘In the spirit of haiku’ usually means present tense, direct speech, and first person narrative. I have mostly followed this, but occasionally I’ve used past tense. Sometimes I’ve used second person, making them conversations with my wife Jane, my companion along many of these ways. I think the form is robust enough to accommodate such diversions.

The collection has been cast in four parts, but the boundaries between them are flexible. The first poem is a non-linear reflection on places I’ve been, things I’ve seen or thought about, and forms an introduction to the first section. The second section features Scotland, wilderness (including mountains), and some travels; the third adds more travels plus some science-influenced poems; the fourth contains the most personal poems.

Colin Will
Hawthornden Castle and Dunbar
November 2013 – February 2014




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