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tenderedge's review against another edition
adventurous
inspiring
mysterious
reflective
medium-paced
5.0
dreiac's review against another edition
3.0
Perhaps it’s my ignorance about haiku poems that has made me not fully appreciate this book. Or maybe it’s the translation. Either way, an enjoyable read but nothing special.
8797999's review against another edition
3.0
A very charming read, once you get beyond the very long introduction it is a very enjoyable read. The introduction of this edition does bog it down quite a bit. Otherwise very enjoyable.
versmonesprit's review against another edition
informative
inspiring
reflective
slow-paced
3.0
Of all the books that turn out to be massive disappointments, the relatively mild disappointment I had with The Narrow Road to the Deep North and Other Travel Sketches might just be the one to crush my soul the hardest. That is because last year I read Bashō’s haikus, and I ended up crying at the face of their beauty. I saved this book to be the star of another “January in Japan,” but I couldn’t find that same magic here.
And it comes down to translation. First of all, I have a lot of respect for Nobuyuki Yuasa’s love and care for his work. His introduction is packed full with knowledge and a vast selection of poetry, and what he undertook was a tremendous work: at a time Google did not exist, he made sure to include so many notes, this could serve as an academic source material. That is something I always appreciate, but most of the notes were not important at all, and they break up the flow of the original work by Bashō so much that you as the reader cannot immerse yourself in it. And on top, while I understand Yuasa’s reasoning, his four-line translations do not have the same effect as three-line haikus — worse yet, going solely off these English translations, I can easily see ways to make them into three-liners!
As Yuasa mentions in the introduction, Bashō’s prose pales in favour of the haiku in his earlier work. But as they both mature, the prose is able to stand for its own, as well as support the haikus’ context, strengthening their double layered nature. While reading these accounts, I couldn’t help but notice how Bashō had the same restlessness to go back to travelling as Jack Kerouac did in On the Road, further solidifying that impulse, that desire to go as a universal human condition.
And it comes down to translation. First of all, I have a lot of respect for Nobuyuki Yuasa’s love and care for his work. His introduction is packed full with knowledge and a vast selection of poetry, and what he undertook was a tremendous work: at a time Google did not exist, he made sure to include so many notes, this could serve as an academic source material. That is something I always appreciate, but most of the notes were not important at all, and they break up the flow of the original work by Bashō so much that you as the reader cannot immerse yourself in it. And on top, while I understand Yuasa’s reasoning, his four-line translations do not have the same effect as three-line haikus — worse yet, going solely off these English translations, I can easily see ways to make them into three-liners!
As Yuasa mentions in the introduction, Bashō’s prose pales in favour of the haiku in his earlier work. But as they both mature, the prose is able to stand for its own, as well as support the haikus’ context, strengthening their double layered nature. While reading these accounts, I couldn’t help but notice how Bashō had the same restlessness to go back to travelling as Jack Kerouac did in On the Road, further solidifying that impulse, that desire to go as a universal human condition.
nattyyllie's review against another edition
4.0
(4.5 stars) “In this little book of travel” Bashō stuns with his traveling adventures on the road. What an incredible story of his journey.
My favorite quotes:
From “Introduction”
“Bashō’s life at his riverside house must have been an externally peaceful but internally agonizing one, for as he sat there meditating all by himself, he began to revolt more and more from the world which surrounded him.”
“the Narrow Road to the Deep North was life itself for Bashō, and he travelled through it as anyone would travel through the short span of his life here – seeking a vision of eternity in the things that are, by their own very nature, destined to perish.”
“Bashō says that in his case the link is provided by what he calls the aroma (nioi), echo (hibiki), countenance (omokage), colour (utsuri) and rank (kurai) of the preceding poem.”
From “The Records of a Weather-Exposed Skeleton”
“A Butterfly / Poised on a tender orchid, / How sweetly the incense / Burns on its wings”
“With a bit of madness in me, / Which is poetry,”
“Blanket of white plum, / I wonder what happened to the cranes, / Stolen or hidden / Behind the plum blossoms? // A sturdy oak / In the plum orchard, /Totally indifferent / To the blossoms.”
“Together let us eat / Ears of wheat, / Sharing at night / A grass pillow.”
From “A Visit to the Kashima Shrine”
“and for a while at least I was able to forget the fretful feeling I had about not being able to see the full moon. Shortly before day break, however, the moon began to shine through the rifts made in the hanging clouds. I immediately wakened the priest, and other members of the household followed him out of bed. We sat for a long time in utter silence, watching the moonlight trying to penetrate the clouds and listening to the sound of the lingering rain”
From “The Records of a Travel-Worn Satchel”
“and indeed all who have achieved real excellence in any art, possess one thing in common, that is, a mind to obey nature, to be one with nature, throughout the four seasons of the year. Whatever such a mind sees is a flower, and whatever such a mind dreams of is the moon. It is only a barbarous mind that sees other than the flower, merely an animal mind that dreams of other than the moon. The first lesson for the artist is, therefore, to learn how to overcome such barbarism and animality, to follow nature, to be one with nature.”
“From this day forth / I shall be called a wanderer”
“Not knowing / The name of the tree, / I stood in the flood / Of its sweet smell.”
“God of this mountain, / May you be kind enough / To show me your face / Among the dawning blossoms?”
“Cherry blossoms: From five to six miles / I walk every day / In search of you, / Cherry blossoms. // Cherry blossoms / In the darkening sky, / And among them a melancholy / Ready-to-bloom-tomorrow”
“Even those whom I had long hated for being antiquated and stubborn sometimes proved to be pleasant companions on my wandering journey. Indeed, one of the greatest pleasures of travelling was to find a genius hidden among weeds and bushes, a treasure lost in broken tiles, a mass of gold buried in clay, and when I did find such a person, I always kept a record with the hope that I might be able to show it to my friends.”
“To talk casually / About an iris flower / Is one of the pleasures / Of the wandering journey.”
From “The Narrow Road to the Deep North”
“In this ever-changing world where mountains crumble, rivers change their courses, roads are deserted, rocks are buried, and old trees yield to young shoots,… I felt as if I were in the presence of the ancients themselves, and, forgetting all the troubles I had suffered on the road, rejoiced in the utter happiness of this joyful moment, not without tears in my eyes.”
“a great number of tombstones scattered among the trees. It was a depressing sight indeed, for young or old, loved or loving, we must all go to such a place at the end of our lives.”
“The pines are of the freshest green, and their branches are curved in exquisite lines, bent by the wind constantly blowing through them. Indeed, the beauty of the entire scene can only be compared to the most divinely endowed of feminine countenances, for who else could have created such beauty but the great god of nature himself? My pen strove in vain to equal this superb creation of divine artifice.”
“I noticed a number of tiny cottages scattered among pine trees and pale blue threads of smoke rising from them. I wondered what kind of people were living in those isolated houses, and was approaching one of them with a strange sense of yearning, when, as if to interrupt me, the moon rose glittering over the darkened sea, completing the full transformation to a night-time scene. I lodged in an inn overlooking the bay, and went to bed in my upstairs room with all the windows open. As I lay there in the midst of the roaring wind and driving clouds, I felt myself to be in a world totally different from the one I was accustomed to.”
“When a country is defeated, there remain only mountains and rivers, and on a ruined castle in spring only grasses thrive.”
“The stony ground itself bore the colour of eternity, paved with velvety moss.”
“while I was waiting for fair weather at Ōishida, I was told that the old seed of linked verse once strewn here by the scattering wind had taken root, still bearing its own flowers each year and thus softening the minds of the rough villagers like the clear note of a reedpipe, but that these rural poets were now merely struggling to find their way in the forest of error, unable to distinguish between the new and the old style, for there was no one to guide them. At their request, therefore, I sat with them to compose a book of linked verse, and left it behind me as a gift.”
“Blessed indeed / Is this South Valley, / Where the gentle wind breathes / The faint aroma of snow.”
“Nor is the story of Kanshō and Bakuya out of place here, for it also teaches us that no matter where your interest lies, you will not be able to accomplish anything unless you bring your deepest devotion to it.”
“Move, if you can hear, / Silent mound of my friend, / My wails and the answering / Roar of autumn wind.”
“Red, red is the sun, / Heartlessly indifferent to time, / The wind knows, however, / The promise of early chill.”
“I hope to have gathered / To repay your kindness / The willow leaves / Scattered in the garden.”
“As firmly cemented clam-shells / Fall apart in autumn, / So I must take to the road again. / Farewell, my friends.”
My favorite quotes:
From “Introduction”
“Bashō’s life at his riverside house must have been an externally peaceful but internally agonizing one, for as he sat there meditating all by himself, he began to revolt more and more from the world which surrounded him.”
“the Narrow Road to the Deep North was life itself for Bashō, and he travelled through it as anyone would travel through the short span of his life here – seeking a vision of eternity in the things that are, by their own very nature, destined to perish.”
“Bashō says that in his case the link is provided by what he calls the aroma (nioi), echo (hibiki), countenance (omokage), colour (utsuri) and rank (kurai) of the preceding poem.”
From “The Records of a Weather-Exposed Skeleton”
“A Butterfly / Poised on a tender orchid, / How sweetly the incense / Burns on its wings”
“With a bit of madness in me, / Which is poetry,”
“Blanket of white plum, / I wonder what happened to the cranes, / Stolen or hidden / Behind the plum blossoms? // A sturdy oak / In the plum orchard, /Totally indifferent / To the blossoms.”
“Together let us eat / Ears of wheat, / Sharing at night / A grass pillow.”
From “A Visit to the Kashima Shrine”
“and for a while at least I was able to forget the fretful feeling I had about not being able to see the full moon. Shortly before day break, however, the moon began to shine through the rifts made in the hanging clouds. I immediately wakened the priest, and other members of the household followed him out of bed. We sat for a long time in utter silence, watching the moonlight trying to penetrate the clouds and listening to the sound of the lingering rain”
From “The Records of a Travel-Worn Satchel”
“and indeed all who have achieved real excellence in any art, possess one thing in common, that is, a mind to obey nature, to be one with nature, throughout the four seasons of the year. Whatever such a mind sees is a flower, and whatever such a mind dreams of is the moon. It is only a barbarous mind that sees other than the flower, merely an animal mind that dreams of other than the moon. The first lesson for the artist is, therefore, to learn how to overcome such barbarism and animality, to follow nature, to be one with nature.”
“From this day forth / I shall be called a wanderer”
“Not knowing / The name of the tree, / I stood in the flood / Of its sweet smell.”
“God of this mountain, / May you be kind enough / To show me your face / Among the dawning blossoms?”
“Cherry blossoms: From five to six miles / I walk every day / In search of you, / Cherry blossoms. // Cherry blossoms / In the darkening sky, / And among them a melancholy / Ready-to-bloom-tomorrow”
“Even those whom I had long hated for being antiquated and stubborn sometimes proved to be pleasant companions on my wandering journey. Indeed, one of the greatest pleasures of travelling was to find a genius hidden among weeds and bushes, a treasure lost in broken tiles, a mass of gold buried in clay, and when I did find such a person, I always kept a record with the hope that I might be able to show it to my friends.”
“To talk casually / About an iris flower / Is one of the pleasures / Of the wandering journey.”
From “The Narrow Road to the Deep North”
“In this ever-changing world where mountains crumble, rivers change their courses, roads are deserted, rocks are buried, and old trees yield to young shoots,… I felt as if I were in the presence of the ancients themselves, and, forgetting all the troubles I had suffered on the road, rejoiced in the utter happiness of this joyful moment, not without tears in my eyes.”
“a great number of tombstones scattered among the trees. It was a depressing sight indeed, for young or old, loved or loving, we must all go to such a place at the end of our lives.”
“The pines are of the freshest green, and their branches are curved in exquisite lines, bent by the wind constantly blowing through them. Indeed, the beauty of the entire scene can only be compared to the most divinely endowed of feminine countenances, for who else could have created such beauty but the great god of nature himself? My pen strove in vain to equal this superb creation of divine artifice.”
“I noticed a number of tiny cottages scattered among pine trees and pale blue threads of smoke rising from them. I wondered what kind of people were living in those isolated houses, and was approaching one of them with a strange sense of yearning, when, as if to interrupt me, the moon rose glittering over the darkened sea, completing the full transformation to a night-time scene. I lodged in an inn overlooking the bay, and went to bed in my upstairs room with all the windows open. As I lay there in the midst of the roaring wind and driving clouds, I felt myself to be in a world totally different from the one I was accustomed to.”
“When a country is defeated, there remain only mountains and rivers, and on a ruined castle in spring only grasses thrive.”
“The stony ground itself bore the colour of eternity, paved with velvety moss.”
“while I was waiting for fair weather at Ōishida, I was told that the old seed of linked verse once strewn here by the scattering wind had taken root, still bearing its own flowers each year and thus softening the minds of the rough villagers like the clear note of a reedpipe, but that these rural poets were now merely struggling to find their way in the forest of error, unable to distinguish between the new and the old style, for there was no one to guide them. At their request, therefore, I sat with them to compose a book of linked verse, and left it behind me as a gift.”
“Blessed indeed / Is this South Valley, / Where the gentle wind breathes / The faint aroma of snow.”
“Nor is the story of Kanshō and Bakuya out of place here, for it also teaches us that no matter where your interest lies, you will not be able to accomplish anything unless you bring your deepest devotion to it.”
“Move, if you can hear, / Silent mound of my friend, / My wails and the answering / Roar of autumn wind.”
“Red, red is the sun, / Heartlessly indifferent to time, / The wind knows, however, / The promise of early chill.”
“I hope to have gathered / To repay your kindness / The willow leaves / Scattered in the garden.”
“As firmly cemented clam-shells / Fall apart in autumn, / So I must take to the road again. / Farewell, my friends.”
dennis_j's review against another edition
3.0
I enjoyed it. The prose was a bit dry and flowery for my taste and I'm not equipped to comment on the actual Haiku, although some really transported me. Almost a third of the ones Basho included was by other poets, which I thought was strange. I got really curious about one of these poets towards the end of the book. Sora, Basho's travel companion. He seemed to have been a very dear friend...
buntingsir's review against another edition
inspiring
lighthearted
reflective
relaxing
slow-paced
4.0
sara_shocks's review against another edition
5.0
Sensational, in the meaning that this fully engages the senses
h3dakota's review against another edition
5.0
Beautifully written, perfect snapshots of life on a very long journey. ::love::