Shaftoe's haiku
Today I am going to look at the haiku written by Bobby Shaftoe in Neal Stephenson's Cryptonomicon, in the original English and in the Japanese translation by Nakahara Naoya 中原尚哉, volume one of which I happened to get hold of the other day.
(Brief note on terminology: It is of course perfectly acceptable for there to be a genre of poetry in English called "haiku" defined "5/7/5 syllable count, no other rules." I have no beef with this idea, but I'm going to discuss Shaftoe's haiku with reference to the classical Japanese conception of a haiku, as this makes for a more interesting and meaningful blog post.)
The first haiku in the novel appears right at the beginning, after epigraphs from Alan Turing and the New York Times, kicking off the action as follows:
Two tires fly. Two wail.
A bamboo grove, all chopped down
From it, warring songs
First, the good. Everything in this haiku is happening right before the author at the time of composition. Strict reliance on immediate perception is often cited as a key rule for haiku, although of course it's not hard to find examples of its having been profitably broken. The "bamboo grove" might be too metaphor-y for some, in this context; me, I'm okay with it.
Next, the bad. This haiku exemplifies the Two Great Evils of English haiku: strict adherence to 5/7/5 syllable structure, and too much information. The two are related: because there is more information, on average, in an English syllable than a Japanese mora, if you insist on 5/7/5 syllables, you end up with more information than can fit in 5/7/5 morae. The result here is that Shaftoe's haiku overflows with imagery. It is a riotous collage rather than a careful juxtaposition. The lingering impression it leaves is not "Ah! How poignant!" but rather "What the hell just happened?"
In Shaftoe's defense, he wrote this haiku "standing on the running board [of a truck teetering on two wheels], gripping his Springfield with one hand and the rearview mirror with the other," but since his main aesthetic concern is syllable-counting ("Is 'tires' one syllable or two? How about 'wail?'") it seems fair to assume that this haiku's flaws derive from Shaftoe's 11-month-old understanding of the art rather than his circumstances, however extenuating the latter. And, indeed, in chapter 3 we learn that although Shaftoe learned about haiku from a real-live Japanese person, Goto Dengo, "as far as he could tell" it was about counting syllables and nothing else.
Anyway. How does Nakahara translate Shaftoe's book-opening haiku?
片輪泣く 竹林倒れ競う歌
Katawa naku/ chikurin taore/ kisou uta
Half of the wheels cry/ The bamboo grove fallen/ Competing songs
Notice how much has been shaved off getting it into 17 morae — and it's still too busy. Those three images should be whittled back to two. I would remove the katawa naku bit, since it superimposes the author too vividly into the scene. The jostling forest of bamboo sticks and singing money-porters is more than enough.
(Brief note on katawa: Normally, this would mean "one wheel," because it dates from the age when kuruma meant "rickshaw" rather than "automobile." Back then, one wheel was half of the wheels. I've translated it more abstractly here because we are talking about a four-wheeled truck. Also note that the word is also used metaphorically to describe a person with a physical disability, roughly equivalent to "crippled" and considered quite offensive now.)
Enough of this novel-opening haiku. Let us return to the beginning of Shaftoe's haiku-writing career, December 1940, when he composed "a quick and dirty adaptation of the Marine Creed":
This is my rifle
There are many like it but
This rifle is mine.
Nakahara sez:
おれの銃 似たものあれど おれの銃
Ore no jū/ nita mono aredo/ ore no jū
My gun/ Others like it though there be/ My gun
This is so far outside standard haiku aesthetics that it's almost in again, like Eric Dolphy. I mean, talk about immediacy of perception. I feel that Nakahara could have tried more to capture the subtle shift from "this is my rifle" to "this rifle is mine," but a good solution eludes me. (Again, I blame this on syllables-vs-morae.)
Shaftoe's second haiku was more ambitious, although he himself "cringes" when he remembers it:
Antenna searches
Retriever's nose in the wind
Ether's far secrets
Too many ideas stuffed in here, too, but the comparison of an antenna to a snuffling dog is interesting, if more senryū than haiku. Nakahara renders it thus:
アンテナや 秘密かぎとる犬の鼻
Antena ya/ himitsu kagitoru/ inu no hana
The antenna!/ A secret-sniffing/ dog's nose
"Wind," "ether," and "searches" all had to go, but the core image is retained. Note that Nakahara indulges in ya, a traditional "cutting word" used to delineate intra-haiku structure.
One more, this from much later in Shaftoe's career.
Manila's perfume
Fanned by the coconut palms
The thighs of Glory
(Glory is Shaftoe's lover.) Obviously traditional haiku criticism would have very harsh things to say about the sudden dip into vulgarity at the end. Even for a senryū this would be pretty edgy. Glory's thighs are also problematic because they represent an intrusion from Shaftoe's imagination on what is actually there. I do like the interlocking processions of ideas, although the coconuts-and-perfume imagery for Manila is cliched.
I was curious to see if Nakahara would retain her name, because it would take up a whole line transliterated into Japanese, but no:
椰子から吹く女の匂い マニラの香
Yashi kara fuku/ onna no nioi/ Manira no ka
Blown from the palm trees/ the smell of women/ Manila's perfume
Shaftoe's thighs of Glory have become much more generic though no less crude. This is a net loss, although probably unavoidable.
tl;dr: Shaftoe's haiku are carefully crafted to stuff in maximum information. This increases their vividness and therefore their utility as storytelling tools, but affects their quality qua classical, Japanese-style haiku. It also presents intriguing and difficult challenges to the translator, which depending on your point of view might actually be a benefit.
Carl:
I am a firm believer that the best way to see haiku is as a setup and a punchline (or vice versa) with a cutting word thrown in for good measure.
Let's see what kind of butchery we can make of this case…
Stephenson's haiku
Surely doomed to go astray:
Heroic attempt.
英雄よ
俳句書けども
やがて死ぬ。