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A review by oldpondnewfrog
The Narrow Road to the Deep North and Other Travel Sketches by Matsuo Bashō
3.0
The compiler of a lifetime reading plan said that this was a rare example of a perfect book—he wouldn't change a single word of it. I think I sense what he sees, but don't actually see it myself.
It just seems like a travel journal, a little bit boring because I don't know the places he describes ("And then I went to So-And-So Shrine. And then I went to So-And-So Mountain"), or the references he makes that may only be familiar to 17th-century-Japanese-scholars ("My heart was heavy, for I remembered the famous poems of Sesshoko, Saigyo..."). It's actually five different journals, each a chapter of the book.
But sometimes I glimpsed more, especially when reading it very slowly. I think maybe it's just very condensed (like haiku), and so doesn't lend itself to the type of page-turning I normally do. Sentences can be beautifully flat, simple. For me, they ring. "At last I reached my native village in the beginning of September, but I could not find a single trace of the herbs my mother used to grow in front of her room." Or: "I went into the temple to have a drink of tea." So I think I'll be returning to it later.
The first paragraph of the title section: "Days and months are travellers of eternity. So are the years that pass by. Those who steer a boat across the sea, or drive a horse over the earth till they succumb to the weight of years, spend every minute of their lives travelling. There are a great number of ancients, too, who died on the road. I myself have been tempted for a long time by the cloud-moving wind — filled with a strong desire to wander."
This seems like a strong translation. I think it has good cadences.
It just seems like a travel journal, a little bit boring because I don't know the places he describes ("And then I went to So-And-So Shrine. And then I went to So-And-So Mountain"), or the references he makes that may only be familiar to 17th-century-Japanese-scholars ("My heart was heavy, for I remembered the famous poems of Sesshoko, Saigyo..."). It's actually five different journals, each a chapter of the book.
But sometimes I glimpsed more, especially when reading it very slowly. I think maybe it's just very condensed (like haiku), and so doesn't lend itself to the type of page-turning I normally do. Sentences can be beautifully flat, simple. For me, they ring. "At last I reached my native village in the beginning of September, but I could not find a single trace of the herbs my mother used to grow in front of her room." Or: "I went into the temple to have a drink of tea." So I think I'll be returning to it later.
The first paragraph of the title section: "Days and months are travellers of eternity. So are the years that pass by. Those who steer a boat across the sea, or drive a horse over the earth till they succumb to the weight of years, spend every minute of their lives travelling. There are a great number of ancients, too, who died on the road. I myself have been tempted for a long time by the cloud-moving wind — filled with a strong desire to wander."
This seems like a strong translation. I think it has good cadences.