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A HISTORY OF THE ENGLISH HAIKU
The haiku originated in Japan about six to seven hundred years ago and
thus is one of the world's oldest surviving poetic forms (Henderson
1958). However, the English-speaking world did not learn of its
existence until after 1868 when Japan opened its shores to the West
and envoys from England started to translate the form (Giroux 1974). A
short while later, French visitors to Japan took up writing haiku and
in 1905 published an anthology of their work in France. Then, in 1910,
two anthologies of Japanese literature in translation were published,
one in France and one in England and both included haiku (Higginson
1985).
While these anthologies created little general interest, they did
catch the attention of a much-heralded group of English and American
poets headquartered in London and in Chicago between 1910 and 1917 who
called themselves the Imagists and who took a special interest in the
haiku (Pratt 1963). Its members, among whom were such luminaries as
James Joyce, D.H. Lawrence, Amy Lowell, Marianne Moore, Ezra Pound,
Carl Sandburg and William Carlos Williams, used the haiku as a model
(along with the classical Greek lyric and French symbolism of the vers
libre type) for what they considered to be the ideal poem, one "in
which the image was not a means but an end: the image was not a part
of the poem; it was the poem" (Pratt 1963, 29).
While the Imagists thought of the haiku as an ideal, none of them
quite managed to ever write a true one. Pound's famous "In A Station Of
The Metro" is often described as a haiku by persons with only a tenuous
knowledge of the form:
The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals, on a wet black bough.
(Pratt 1963, 50)
Successful as a short poem, it fails as a haiku because only the first
line deals with an immediate experience while the second line involves
the memory of an image that the poet uses overtly as a metaphor. A
haiku is a haiku because all the images it conveys occur
simultaneously in a person's present perceptions of the world. To
become a haiku, Pound's poem would have to indicate that he saw the
faces at the same time as he saw the actual petals, in the flesh, not
in memory.
In "Ts'ai Chi'h," Pound comes much closer to the spirit of a true haiku:
The petals fall in the fountain,
The orange-colored rose leaves,
Their ochre clings to the stone.
(Pratt 1963, 58)
Here he manages to deal only with things perceived in a particular
moment, but fails to achieve the needed brevity which can be defined
as a comfortable breath-length (Yasuda 1957).
W.J. Higginson (1985, 52) considers "Autumn Haze" by Amy Lowell to be
"one of the best hokku [haiku] by a self-styled Imagist":
Is it a dragonfly or a maple leaf
That settles softly down upon the water?
However, this haiku has the same problem as Pound's "Ts'ai Chi'h" -- it
is too wordy. In sum, while the Imagists saw the haiku as a model for
their aspirations, they wrote pieces that were either too metaphorical
or too wordy and usually both.
After the Imagist movement broke up around 1917 (Pratt 1963), North
American interest in the haiku per se languished for several decades
until after World War II. Scholars such as Higginson (1985) and Thomas
Lynch (1989) have tried to trace the path of the form during this
period of more than thirty years and suggest that a continuing
interest in the haiku way of seeing was kept alive by the work of a
few major poets who made their mark during this time, such as William
Carlos Williams (beyond his Imagist days), Wallace Stevens and Charles
Reznikoff.
Williams' 1923 poem "The Red Wheelbarrow" is most often quoted as
evidence:
So much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens
(Williams 1958, 37)
As Lynch (1989, 141) states, "All that keeps this poem from being an
excellent haiku is the opening two lines, which by haiku standards are
quite unnecessary."
To this editorial comment, I would add that the title is also
superfluous. Good haiku do not need titles. The meaning should be
apparent from the actual poems themselves.
Both Higginson and Lynch also single out Wallace Stevens' "Thirteen
Ways of Looking at a Blackbird" as proof of the haiku's influence on
eminent North American poets: the first stanza of the thirteen
composing the poem is the most frequently quoted:
Among twenty snowy mountains,
The only moving thing
Was the eye of the blackbird.
(Stevens 1971, 20)
As with Williams' "The Red Wheelbarrow," only a small change is
necessary to make this a true haiku. As it stands, it lacks the
immediacy required in a haiku, but this can easily be remedied by
dropping the verb "was".
"Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird" was first published in 1917,
during the last year of the Imagist movement. Thus the poem might
simply have been the young Stevens' lone experiment with haiku-like
poetry. But we can find similar writing in later work such as this
stanza from the 1936 "A Postcard from the Volcano":
At what we saw. The spring clouds blow
Above the shuttered mansion-house,
Beyond our gate and the windy sky
(Stevens 1971, 127)
Nevertheless, such direct images are rare in the more mature work of
Stevens which is richly metaphorical in the best tradition of Western
poetry.
On the other hand, Charles Reznikoff did show a steady kinship with
the haiku way of seeing throughout his long career as Geoffrey O'Brien
(1982, 21) points out:
Reznikoff wrote in a variety of forms ... but most typically he
employed brief lyrical forms, often grouping short units into such
comfortably loose sequences as "Autobiography: New York" and
"Autobiography: Hollywood", sequences which do not rise toward a climax
or seek an overall symbolic meaning but rather collect a series of
powerful moments related only by their position in the author's
experience.
Here is one of his poems that needs no editing to become a true haiku:
About an excavation
a flock of bright red lanterns
has settled.
(O'Brien 1982, 20)
However, most of Reznikoff's work is composed of haiku-like lines
imbedded in longer stanzas. The reader has to pluck them out like
brilliantly colored feathers from a peacock. Here, for instance, are
the last two lines from a five-line stanza:
From the bare twigs
rows of drops like shining buds are hanging.
(O'Brien 1982, 20)
Nevertheless, compared to Williams and Stevens, Reznikoff is probably
the strongest strand spanning the years between the Imagists and
the 1950s, a decade which E.S. Lamb (1979a, 5) describes as the "real
beginning of what may be called the haiku movement in the western
world".
The chief reason for the renewed interest was American fascination
with Japanese culture following World War II. In particular, artistic
and intellectual Americans became enthralled with Zen whose history as
well as charm Bullock and Stallybrass (1977, 682) succinctly describe:
Zen [is] the Japanese version of the Ch'an sect of Buddhism in China,
noted for its simple austerity, its mysticism leading to personal
tranquility, and its encouragement of education and art. Some of its
scriptures and paintings have become widely known and admired in the
West; and Aldous Huxley and others in California led something of a
cult of Zen, which in the 1960s began appealing to students as a way
of having religious experience without dogmas or religious
institutions.
For many this interest grew to encompass Japanese art and literature.
As a result, the haiku translations of scholars H.G. Henderson (1934,
1958) and R.H. Blyth (1949) began to be widely read (Lamb 1979a).
Blyth's four volume Haiku became especially popular at this time
because his translations were based on the assumption that the haiku
was the poetic expression of Zen. Not surprisingly, his books
attracted the attention of the Beat school, most notably writers such
as Allen Ginsberg, Gary Snyder and Jack Kerouac, all of whom had a
prior interest in Zen. All three wrote haiku as well as about haiku.
Kerouac especially played a huge role in popularizing the form. In
fact, his book The Dharma Bums became:
The bible to a whole generation of American youth ... it introduces
the reader to "Japhy Ryder," a character based on Gary Snyder. Japhy
writes haiku--and suddenly so do a lot of other people ... Several of
the poets I [Higginson] know first discovered the haiku in Kerouac's
novel (Higginson 1985, 64).
While the Beats' interest in the haiku contributed greatly to its
widespread acceptance, only Kerouac and Ginsberg wrote in the form
long enough to eventually produce small bodies of work.
Kerouac (1971) published twenty-six haiku on four pages in his
seventy-six page collection Scattered Poems and he collaborated with
Albert Saijo and Lew Welch on a prose and haiku diary of a car trip
across the US in 1959 which was eventually published as a slim book
in 1973 as Trip Trap: Haiku along the Road from San Francisco to New
York (Ungar 1982). Ginsberg has published haiku here and there
throughout his long career and in 1978 produced Mostly Sitting Haiku
which was the first collection, albeit small, of haiku by a major US
poet outside the haiku movement (Lamb 1979a).
A study of the haiku written by these two Beats reveals a good grasp
of the form. These two pieces, probably from the late fifties or early
sixties, successfully evoke fleeting moments of heightened awareness
full of metaphorical resonances:
The summer chair
rocking by itself
In the blizzard
(Jack Kerouac 1971, 74)
I didn't know the names
of the flowers--now
my garden is gone.
(Allen Ginsberg in Higginson 1985, 59)
For Ginsberg, and especially Kerouac, the haiku was a brief diversion
from the other writing on which their reputations as well as incomes
were based. Time spent on haiku meant time away from their bread and
butter.
Around the same time that the Beats were exploring the haiku, so was
an American novelist and poet from an earlier generation, Richard
Wright. Apparently while sick and bedridden in Paris in 1959, he read
Blyth's four-volume Haiku and "discovered in it something he had been
unconsciously seeking to ease his mind" (Michel Fabré as cited in
Lynch 1989, 144). The result was an output much larger than that of
either Kerouac or Ginsberg--about 4,000 haiku which he sifted down to
a manuscript of 800 entitled This Other World (Lynch 1989). The
collection has yet to be published.
W.J. Higginson (1982) managed to track down twenty-five of these haiku
in various articles and biographies. As with the work of Ginsberg and
Kerouac, Wright's best haiku reach a high standard:
Coming from the woods
A bull has a lilac sprig
Dangling from a horn
(in Higginson 1982, 6)
In the falling snow
A laughing boy holds out his palms
Until they are white
(in Higginson 1982, 6)
Both are vivid and joyful and resonate with meaning. Because Wright is
Afro-American, the second is of particular interest because it can be
interpreted beyond a child's play with snow. Is the boy experiencing
the fulfillment of a desire to be white or is he feeling the sense of
equality which comes when everyone, no matter their skin color, is
covered with snow?
By the early 1960s, other haiku translators, such as Geoffrey Bownas
(1964) and Peter Beilenson (1962), joined the ranks of Blyth and
Henderson. The effect was that even more people grew aware of the
haiku and eventually grass roots organizations, in the form of haiku
study groups, began to flourish, especially in California (Lamb
1979a).
Haiku interest grew phenomenally during this decade which saw the
birth of the "Hippie" culture with its interest in Eastern art,
literature, music, religion and philosophy that far surpassed anything
generated by the Beats. A major influence during this time was the
philosopher Alan Watts whose writings and recordings used haiku (what
he called "the wordless poem") as a way of illustrating Zen principles
(Higginson 1985, 67). Thus, Watts reinforced the impression left by
the Beats that haiku had something to do with Zen (Watts 1960).
In 1963, American Haiku, the first magazine devoted entirely to
English-language haiku, was published in Platteville, Wisconsin (Lamb
1979b). By the end of the 1960s, the interest in haiku could no longer
be considered a fad. Haiku magazines and collections were being
published on both coasts of the United States as well as in the
Canadian and American midwest.
During the 1970s and 1980s, the English-language haiku became even
more entrenched in North American culture with over a dozen
periodicals at any one time devoted to publishing the form as well as
its close relative, the senryu. Three of them, Brussels Sprout,
Frogpond and Inkstone (Canadian), have lasted over 12 years and one,
Modern Haiku, has survived over 27 years.
Concomitant with the success of the periodicals has been the
establishment of various haiku societies. Three of them, Haiku Society
of America (established 1968), Haiku Canada (co-founded by Eric Amann,
Betty Drevniok and me in 1977) and Haiku Poets of Northern California
(established in the late 1980s), have emerged as dominant, holding
their own regular meetings and conferences as well as cooperating
every two years to hold one major event, Haiku North America, that has
attracted individuals from around the world. Each of the Societies
also publishes a regular newsletter, and, one of them, Haiku Society
of America, also publishes its own journal, Frogpond.
In the late 1980s, the renku and renga, both variations of linked
haiku usually written in collaboration with others, have mushroomed in
popularity with the result that about half of the haiku periodicals
now publish one or two per issue. In fact, a couple of journals, Air
and Lynx, were founded in the late eighties for the sole purpose of
publishing such linked poems.
WHY THE HAIKU FLOURISHED IN NORTH AMERICA
Having established that the haiku has indeed flourished in North
America, I think an attempt should be made to explain why it took such
strong root in this part of the Western world. After all, French and
British scholars and writers were the first to translate the form and
to publish the first Western haiku. Should not, then, the haiku
phenomenon have begun in one or both of these countries?
I have already given the two usual explanations: American enchantment
with Japanese culture following World War II and the stamp of approval
the influential Beats gave to the haiku. But what created this
receptivity in the first place? The curiosity of the conqueror about
the conquered? Guilt, both American and Canadian, about the internment
of Japanese North Americans during World War II? Such explanations are
worth exploring, but beyond the scope of this article.
Thomas Lynch (1989) has formulated another interpretation, one that
has literary roots and therefore is directly relevant to this
discussion. In his unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, he posits that an
influential group of nineteenth-century New England poets, writers,
and philosophers known as the "Transcendentalists" created an
intellectual and emotional climate receptive to the haiku. Lynch
(1989, 3) argues that especially Walt Whitman, Henry David Thoreau and
Ralph Waldo Emerson, developed a homegrown philosophy quite similar to
Zen Buddhism and that this way of thinking permeated their writing
which, in turn, strongly affected the work of important
twentieth-century poets such as "Ezra Pound, Wallace Stevens, William
Carlos Williams, Richard Wright, Allen Ginsberg, and Gary Snyder". Not
surprisingly, these names appear whenever haiku scholars, such as
Higginson (1985), list the major poets who have written haiku or
haiku-like poems.
Lynch's argument is compelling. One does not have to look far in the
writing of Thoreau, the Transcendentalist most often cited as an
influence by today's haiku poets, to see his concern with the
immediate moment:
In any weather, at any hour of the day or night, I have been anxious
to improve the nick of time, and notch it on my stick too; to stand on
the meeting of two eternities, the past and future, which is precisely
the present moment; to toe that line ([1889] 1975, 179-180)
This attitude is very similar to those expressed by Whitman ([1892]
1969) and Emerson ([1840] 1971). Such Zen-like focus on the
here-and-now is the sine qua non of haiku composition.
Lynch (1989, 58) goes so far as to speculate that a haiku-like poetry
eventually would have evolved on its own in North America:
It seems to me possible, given the circumstances of American life and
poetry, and given the direction established by Emerson, Thoreau, and
Whitman, that a poetry very much like haiku, and perhaps even a
philosophy very much like Zen, would have developed on this continent
independently of any direct contact with Buddhism or Japanese
literature.
Lynch has formulated an intriguing possibility, but whether these
events would have transpired or not, is, in the final analysis,
irrelevant. All that really matters, for the purposes of this
discussion, is that an influential ideology predisposed North
Americans to welcome the haiku because, at first glance, it seems to
be a Zen- (or Transcendentalist-) based form of poetry.
What the practices of haiku reading and writing and Zen Buddhism
certainly do have in common is that they both stress the importance of
the present. Each approach argues that focusing on the immediate
moment will result in illumination, or, what in Zen is called
"satori", and in haiku is referred to as a moment of awe or wonder.
This shared outlook is what attracted the Beats and Alan Watts. It is
also what forms the heart of Lynch's hypothesis.
But the haiku is, first and foremost, a form of poetry, not a vehicle
for philosophical or religious expression. Study of the haiku's long
history in Japan shows quite clearly that it has always been a form of
poetry quite separate from Zen Buddhism. While the great Bashô and a
few other outstanding haiku poets were Zen monks, they all treated
haiku as poetry first, and, if at all, as Zen second. It is well-known
that Bashô made his living by teaching students how to become masterful
haiku poets, not how to be Zen monks. Zen instruction was the job of
the monks on staff of the Zen monasteries. As eminent Japanese haiku
scholar Harold G. Henderson confirms in his classic An Introduction to
Haiku (1958, 21), "Only a comparatively few of Bashô's poems are
obviously religious."
In fact, Henderson (1958, 2-3) emphasizes on numerous occasions that
haiku is very much a form of poetry, such as when he states:
In the hands of a master a haiku can be the concentrated essence of
pure poetry. Because the haiku is shorter than other forms of poetry
it naturally has to depend for its effect on the power of suggestion,
even more than they do.
Further evidence of the independence of haiku from Zen comes from
another Japanese haiku scholar, Kenneth Yasuda. In his also classic
book, The Japanese Haiku (1957), almost no mention is made of Zen as
an influence.
Thomas Lynch has suggested a plausible reason why the haiku form found
such a hospitable environment in North America. Without question, the
haiku received immediate respectability because of its perceived link
with Zen Buddhism, a philosophy which evoked in North Americans,
particularly those with a literary bent, the influential nineteenth-century
philosophy of Transcendentalism. It is ironic, then, that in the haiku's long
Japanese history, Zen played a minor role.
With which viewpoint do most current haiku poets align
themselves--Blyth's haiku as Zen medium or Henderson's haiku as pure
poetry? My long study of the significant haiku periodicals, the major
anthologies, the collections of influential haiku poets and the
conferences and agendas of the various haiku societies suggests that
Henderson's outlook is clearly the more popular, in keeping with the
long-held prevailing view in Japan. A telling fact is that the Haiku
Society of America's annual haiku contest, the longest-running and the
most prestigious, is named after Henderson and not Blyth.
Nevertheless, the belief that Zen and haiku are inextricably
intertwined continues to be held by a small, loose-knit but active
group of haiku poets. Its members feel the Zen practices enhance the
composition and appreciation of haiku and some of them regularly meet
at various Zen retreats found chiefly in the New England states. I
wonder whether the ghosts of the Transcendentalists can be found there
as well.
Ironically, West-coast poet James W. Hackett (1968, 1983), the
best-known and most influential advocate of haiku as expression of
Zen, holds himself relatively aloof from this group as well as the
general haiku movement. To the public at large, Hackett became the
spokesperson for haiku after winning the first of a series of haiku
contests run by Japan Air Lines. Lamb (1995, 10) describes the first
one which was also the most successful:
In 1964 something over 41,000 haiku were submitted to their National
Haiku Contest. Seventeen contests conducted by radio stations in
different parts of the country screened the entries and five winners
from each local contest were submitted for final judging by Alan
Watts. Japan Air Lines published the 85 national entries in a booklet
entitled Haiku '64. James W. Hackett won the grand prize of two round
trip tickets to Japan. Note the date of the contest--1964. This explains
why it captured the public's attention in a way no subsequent contest did.
As stated earlier, the sixties was the heyday for worship of things Japanese.
By the way, the winning poem by Hackett is considered a masterpiece by
the Zen-oriented as well as the regular haiku community:
A bitter morning:
Sparrows sitting together
Without any necks.
(in Lamb 1995, 10)
For three years (1981-83) I ran haiku workshops at Ryerson Polytechnic
University in Toronto and found that the majority of newcomers to
haiku possessed an already established interest in Zen. They expected
to heighten their Zen-ness by writing haiku. In addition to having
read some Hackett, many came to the first class imbued with Eric
Amann's ([1969] 1978) The Wordless Poem: A Study of Zen in Haiku,
essentially an essay self-published as a booklet. On page
thirty-eight, Amann summarizes the view that these students found
compelling:
The main point of this essay has been to show that haiku is not to be
regarded primarily as a 'form' of poetry, as is commonly assumed in
the West, but as an expression of Zen in poetry, a living 'Way',
similar to the 'Way of the Brush' and other manifestations of Zen in
the arts and in literature. Their dismay was palpable when I told them
that the workshop was going to focus on haiku as poetry, not Zen.
But it was nothing compared to the news that Eric Amann had by this
time publicly (at Haiku Canada meetings) divorced himself from the idea
of haiku as Zen and was embarrassed by the attention his old views still
garnered. In spite of this double-whammy, practically all students stayed
with the workshops and became quite proficient at writing haiku as poetry
(Swede 1981).
THE INFLUENCE OF THE NORTH AMERICAN HAIKU AROUND THE WORLD
Once rooted, the vigorous North American haiku spread its seeds
throughout the English-speaking world and beyond. In 1990, The British
Haiku Society was formed and immediately became a powerful force,
holding monthly meetings, annual conferences as well as publishing its
own journal, Blithe Spirit. Shortly thereafter, a couple of
independent haiku periodicals took hold as well. Similar developments
have occurred in Australia and New Zealand and, not surprisingly, in
countries speaking tongues other than English, especially Holland,
Germany, Croatia and, most recently, Poland.
Has Japan, where the haiku first blossomed, shown any interest in
these developments outside its shores? Most definitely. Currently, a
number of Japanese literary periodicals, such as Ko and The Plaza, as
well as more general publications, such as the newspapers Mainichi
Daily News, The Daily Yomiuri and The Asahi Evening News regularly
publish English-language haiku. Several others, particularly Poetry
Nippon, have had long commitments to the English haiku, but have
ceased operations.
In 1989, the three major Japanese haiku societies, the Modern Haiku
Association, the Association of Haiku Poets and the Association of
Japanese Classical Haiku, formed Haiku International Association. The
purpose for the creation of this new umbrella organization was given
in an official announcement mailed around the globe:
To promote friendship and mutual understanding among poets, scholars
and others who share a common interest in haiku, though they may live
in very distant parts of the world.
True to its stated aim, Haiku International has its own periodical, HI,
which publishes work from numerous countries in the original language
and Japanese. About half of every issue, however, is devoted to haiku
from Japan which are printed in Japanese and English. This makes sense
considering that Japan still has far more haiku poets than any other
nation.
As we approach the twenty-first century, writers, teachers and
scholars of haiku can justifiably argue that the form is the most
popular poetry in the world. None of the other long-lived forms, such
as the englyn, ghazal, limerick, rondeau, sapphics, sestina, sonnet
and villanelle, are considered with such universal interest. This
status is in no small way due to encouragement by the Japanese who, in
addition to publishing work from everywhere, also hold international
contests and conferences to which they invite, often with all expenses
paid, the winners as well as the presenters.
Further proof of the haiku's widespread influence is that many notable
Canadian and American poets include the form, or approximations to it,
in their collections. A quick check of my bookshelves found haiku or
haiku-like poems in the works of Canadian poets Milton Acorn, Margaret
Atwood, Earle Birney, Roo Borson, Michael Bullock, Christopher
Dewdney, Ralph Gustafson, and I stopped the alphabetical search,
realizing the futility of listing practically everyone. An examination
of my smaller selection of American poets had similar results: John
Ashberry, Wendell Berry, Richard Brautigan, John Judson, W.S. Merwin
and so on. Lynch's (1989) thesis about the legacy of the
Transcendentalists certainly offers one plausible explanation of why
the haiku has had so much influence on poets from both sides of the
border.
One more indicator of how the North American psyche has welcomed the
haiku is the fact that the current Poet Laureate of the US, Robert
Hass, has "championed haiku for many years" (Welch 1995, 35). An
English professor at the University of California at Berkeley, Hass
recently has published The Essential Haiku: Versions of Basho, Buson,
and Issa (1994). The book is part of a series put out by New Jersey's
Ecco Press called "The Essential Poets," and puts the three Japanese
legends of haiku in the luminous company of poets such as Blake,
Keats, Poe, Shakespeare and Whitman. It should not be long before the
haiku gets the same attention in university curriculums that it now
enjoys at lower levels.
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YASUDA, K. (1957), The Japanese Haiku, Rutland, Vermont, Charles E.
Tuttle.
Originally published in Haiku Canada Newsletter, vol. 10, no. 2, January 1997 and vol.
10, no. 3, March 1997.
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