Basho: The Complete Haiku of Matsuo Basho (Collector’s Edition)

What a wonderful book.Now, that said, it’s important to make clear what this book actually is/does. The translation (in English) of each haiku is accompanied a syllabic transliteration of the original Japanese, (rendering of the texts of the haiku in the original Japanese occur in the back of the book.Perhaps more importantly, accompanying each haiku are footnotes explaining the important (and sometimes quite extensive) wordplay that occurs in the haiku.It’s important to note that such wordplay is a crucial characteristic of all classical Japanese haiku. This is not true of English-language haiku of course, and is —virtually by definition— impossible to portray in translation. So these footnotes are of great importance to anyone who is interested in seriously “drilling-down” into the details of what is actually happening in the original version the haiku.Finally, it’s probably worth noting that the translation that Fitzsimons gives of each haiku attempts to adhere to the classical 7/5/7 format whenever possible. So, in all fairness, I’d have to admit that these translations —while always very good— might not be the translations of Basho that I might choose to carry around in a convenient pocket-edition, nonetheless as an element of a critical/reference work they are invaluable.I guess that what I’m saying is that this volume might perhaps be more accurately be thought of as a kind of “reference work”. But, with its very affordable price, this is surely a book that everyone seriously interested in Haiku (or more specifically, in the work of Basho) should have on their shelf.(Note: In addition to a very good glossary and an extensive bibliography, the book also contains indices to the haiku in Japanese, Romanji, and English.)

They still make beautiful books! I have several Basho translations. This book contains the Japanese, the transliterations and alternative translations. Beautifully bound. Very readable typeset, and an altogether lovely volume.

A review on Andrew Fitzsimons’ books, Basho: The Complete Haiku of Matsuo BashoTL;DR: Fitzsimons delivers a much appreciated compilation and explanation of each poem, but his own translations leave much to be desired. In short, I very very much appreciate Fitzsimons’ close analysis and explanation of each poem, even including literary allusions that Basho must have used in his composition. That alone redeems the book for me. For those considering buying this book, I do recommend it for the analysis alone; however, you might want to purchase another book for a better translation of these poems.I see that there are not many reviews on this relatively new book on Basho, so it is a little bit daunting for me to write such a long review. I don’t mean to influence your opinion before you buy this book; rather, the following are just a collection of my thoughts regarding this book and my experience reading it.PROS: this book provides a comprehensive compilation of most if not all of Basho’s (currently known) poems.In addition to providing a good anthology of Basho’s poetry, Fitzsimons provides a good explanation and analysis of every poem in an easy way. With his remarks, I definitely feel like I understand the poetry better. Sometimes, he comments on the history, other times the wordplay. His insight even extends to literary and cultural history, geographical commentary, and many other helpful tidbits.There are a couple innovations in Fitzsimons’ translation that I can appreciate. The main one is a new way of denoting the cutting word. The cutting word in haiku is the word that splits the poem into two juxtaposing halves. The deeper meaning of the poem is found through the unity of this juxtaposition. Like a puzzle, the cutting word snaps together the grooves of two seemingly independent puzzle pieces to reveal a hidden, bigger picture. Usually in haiku translation, the cutting word is denoted through artificial punctuation, either a comma or a dash. But in the actual Japanese original, there is no such punctuation. Here, Fitzsimons finds a way to convey the cutting word very naturally, through the creative use of capitalization. The cutting word in Fitzsimons’ translations are denoted with a capital letter. Brilliant!Another one of Fitzsimons’ strengths is his commitment to wordplay. Here is an example“A little while to / await the call of the cuck- / oo a thousand years”As Fitzsimons remarks, Japanese poets often use the sound of the cuckoo to denote a change in seasons. More specifically, the season change follows swiftly after the first call of the cuckoo. In English, the word “cuckoo” is an onomatopoeia for the sound a cuckoo makes, which means that the first call of a cuckoo is the “cuck” sound. Here, Fitzsimons separates the word “cuckoo” into two parts to help denote the onomatopoeia sound, and especially its first call. Brilliant!CONS: Having said… the English translations of these Japanese poems are, in my opinion, not so great.Fitzsimons advertises this book as the only one to stay true to form, but what he sacrifices greatly is quality and spirit. Before we translate any language with commitment to form, it’s important to note why the form became such a way. In Japanese Haiku, the form, such as the famous 5-7-5 for example, arose because it is lyrical and melodic in the Japanese language. Japanese sounds often end in vowels, much like Italian or Spanish, so adding a bit of rhythm to the haiku gives it a catchy, sing-song quality. In English, our equivalent is likely iambic pentameter and other metred rhymes. That’s why, in general when I see poetry translations with commitment to form, I always have a question mark in my head. Is this the best way? What would be the English equivalent of the effect that the form wants to convey?Fitzsimons himself comments on one of Basho’s teachings on haiku, saying “Even if you have three or four extra syllables – or as many as five or seven – you need not worry as long as the verse sounds right. If even one syllable stagnates in your mouth, give it careful scrutiny.” To me, this statement shows that Basho prefers content over form (and indeed he has written poetry of irregular form).Yet, Fitzsimons proceeds with the following paragraph by writing “This translation is the first to adhere strictly to form.” So what? Adherence to form is an added bonus only if the translation is faithful to the spirit and the content. Otherwise, it is very distracting. Consider one of the first poems Fitzsimons introduces us to – a poem that Basho wrote on his deathbed:“On a journey stricken / Dreams a-wandering around / Stalks and stubble-fields”What is the “a” in “a-wandering” doing here? To me it seems like just an extra syllable to fulfill form, which is very distracting and, quite frankly, infuriating. Nor is the meaning of the poem well conveyed (i.e. though the poet is ill during a journey, he is still traveling in his dreams).Compare to other translation:“Sick on a journey / dreams roam about / on a withered moor” (Trans. Haruo Shirane)“Ill on a journey / my dreams run around / withered fields” (Trans. William J. Higginson)Yet another: Perhaps the most famous of Basho’s haikus, and arguably the most famous haiku of all time period, is translated by Fitzsimons as:“An olden pond now / A songfrog springs off into / The sound of water”Ignoring the forced extra syllables (“old-en”, “now”, “song-frog”), having read this translation, it is hard to imagine or even believe that this is probably the best haiku ever written. That is because this haiku is the best not for its static form, but for its ideals and spirit. What this haiku means to me is the sudden “aha!” epiphany (the ker-plunk sound of a frog diving into water) that follows from a deep meditation or confusion (the ancient pond). For this, I much prefer Yuasa’s beautiful (albeit wordy) translation:“Breaking the silence / Of an ancient pond, / A frog jumped into water — / A deep resonance” (Trans. Nobuyuki Yuasa)Nevertheless, I am keeping this book because it is a good anthology and collection to my Ikea bookshelf library, and though the translations are not my cup-of-tea, I definitely appreciate everything else it has to offer.A confusing poem / Then Fitzsimmon’s notes / Aha!

Andrew Fitzsimons has taken on an impossible task. Translation is, at best, crushingly hard, choices that must be made based on one's capability with a language, with the culture of that language and with the subtle, oftem deeply idiomatic use of that language by native speaker, perhaps even from centurys ago.Then they must decide, based on the language how to present the words and meanings in the best way to share the original purpose. This is especially hard with humor and subtle puns, cultural shifts in thought and phrase. Then they have to decide on what might represent that in the language being translated to. Unenviable and nearly impossible.Japanese is a wonderfully colorful language - whereas english is more structured and less inclined for the beauty of puns/alternate meanings,Dr Fitzsimons has a very good handle on this. He carefully lays out the moment of each hakko, giving a description of the meanings of words in japanese, and especially in the culturally subtle humor of the time. He puts each hakko in it's proper stage and helps the reader navigate the shifting meanings.This, is im my opinion, the finest translation of Basho, period. He gives you the whole meal and lets you choose to digest what you will.

Personally, I found the translation lacking the poetry of Sam Hamill's. It is a beautiful book (albeit with typos) and the man is clearly an erudite scholar, but did not break my heart like others!

Magnificent book: text, intro, notes, brilliant cover, deluxe trade book from University of California Press. Collected haiku by Basho, Japan’s premier writer an a Zen master.

It is wonderful to read and nicely bound. It stays by the bedside and hasn’t made it to a shelf yet.