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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::
gingerliss's review against another edition
3.0
This is a difficult book to rate, which is why I've given it a neutral three stars, for the following reasons :
1. This book was written in 17th century Japan, both a very different time and culture.
2. This book doesn't have one particular genre, it is part travel log and part poetry. Again, apply my first point to this and I have something in my hands that is not in the least bit similar to anything I've ever read before in my life.
3. The style of the book is very culture and time specific, I think, and is again something I've never come across before.
Now, what did I think?
It was a very interesting read as it has introduced me to a lot of new things. It felt a little bit like reading Marco Polo's travels. Although less boring (Marco Polo's travels are very repetitive), I have to give it that.
I found the style to be strange. Although I did get used to it eventually. I do feel like I missed a lot, just because my understanding of the Japanese culture in the time this was written is minimal. I've read quite a lot of travel writing, mostly modern, but also a few 'classics' and as far as travel writing goes this is not very descriptive. Basho basically states the places he travels to, the attractions in these places he visits and occasionally describes a scene during these visits. Furthermore, there's a lot of mentioning of people he meets or people who are (seemingly suddenly) travelling with him (often in a way that you as the reader should know exactly who he is referring to).
It feels like the book had a very particular audience in mind, and I am not that audience.
I found most of the journeying to be quite bland. I do believe Basho purposely didn't describe too much of the things he saw along the way, so as not to spoil it for others who want(ed) to make the journeys themselves. Which did leave a kind of magical mysterious feeling and an urge to at some point get out over to Japan and follow the man's tracks.
Something I thoroughly enjoyed, which I didn't expect, was the poetry. All the travel logs in the book have Basho's poetry throughout. The poetry is placed in logical moments and often describe a scene which Basho has seen at that moment innhis travels. They're, as far as I understood from the introduction, in haiku form, and/or linked verse. Now I am not very knowledgeable on poetry, to be honest, so please correct me if that is wrong. What I found to be so intriguing about this type of poetry is that it is very short ane often seemingly simple, also there seems to be a lot of repetition, but each poem seems to carry this wonderful feeling if awe. They're all quite beautiful. I believe that part of the idea of these poems is to read them and then meditate on them. Now I haven't tried this myself, yet, but I can imagine it being an interesting experience. First I must learn how to meditate and more about haiku though. One day when I get around to doing that, I will probably revisit this book and perhaps look at it in a very different light...
1. This book was written in 17th century Japan, both a very different time and culture.
2. This book doesn't have one particular genre, it is part travel log and part poetry. Again, apply my first point to this and I have something in my hands that is not in the least bit similar to anything I've ever read before in my life.
3. The style of the book is very culture and time specific, I think, and is again something I've never come across before.
Now, what did I think?
It was a very interesting read as it has introduced me to a lot of new things. It felt a little bit like reading Marco Polo's travels. Although less boring (Marco Polo's travels are very repetitive), I have to give it that.
I found the style to be strange. Although I did get used to it eventually. I do feel like I missed a lot, just because my understanding of the Japanese culture in the time this was written is minimal. I've read quite a lot of travel writing, mostly modern, but also a few 'classics' and as far as travel writing goes this is not very descriptive. Basho basically states the places he travels to, the attractions in these places he visits and occasionally describes a scene during these visits. Furthermore, there's a lot of mentioning of people he meets or people who are (seemingly suddenly) travelling with him (often in a way that you as the reader should know exactly who he is referring to).
It feels like the book had a very particular audience in mind, and I am not that audience.
I found most of the journeying to be quite bland. I do believe Basho purposely didn't describe too much of the things he saw along the way, so as not to spoil it for others who want(ed) to make the journeys themselves. Which did leave a kind of magical mysterious feeling and an urge to at some point get out over to Japan and follow the man's tracks.
Something I thoroughly enjoyed, which I didn't expect, was the poetry. All the travel logs in the book have Basho's poetry throughout. The poetry is placed in logical moments and often describe a scene which Basho has seen at that moment innhis travels. They're, as far as I understood from the introduction, in haiku form, and/or linked verse. Now I am not very knowledgeable on poetry, to be honest, so please correct me if that is wrong. What I found to be so intriguing about this type of poetry is that it is very short ane often seemingly simple, also there seems to be a lot of repetition, but each poem seems to carry this wonderful feeling if awe. They're all quite beautiful. I believe that part of the idea of these poems is to read them and then meditate on them. Now I haven't tried this myself, yet, but I can imagine it being an interesting experience. First I must learn how to meditate and more about haiku though. One day when I get around to doing that, I will probably revisit this book and perhaps look at it in a very different light...
rjbedell's review against another edition
adventurous
reflective
relaxing
medium-paced
3.5
Lovely to read Bashō’s travel sketches — his travels around Japan are full of little observations of beauty and life. I take issue with Nobuyuki Yuasa’s translations of the haiku — he usually adds his own embellishments, completely against the minimalist interest of the form, and turns them all from three lines into four. Far better translations of many of these haiku have come along since.