Issa Kobayashi (1763–1828)

I took a class from Robert Haas during my undergrad. He was a vague teacher but his lectures were careful, rigorous, and were often delivered with a gentleness that made what would otherwise be burdensome topics graceful. So it is with this collection of Haiku by Buson, Basho, and Issa. Among the projects he set forth in the this edition, Haas wanted to show through contrast, how each master's personality and style comes through their work however restricted the form. The effect of reading show more this collection is that the differences become clear:

Issa's comical voice:

I'm going out,
Flies, so relax,
Make love.


Buson's imagery:

The spring sea rising
and falling, rising
and falling all day.


Basho's philosophical melancholy:

First day of spring-
I keep thinking about
the end of Autumn.


I highly recommend this collection for anyone interested in the Haiku form. Though there are some cultural and translational fault lines mapping the boundaries of this style of poetry the main ideas come through, often in unexpected ways: a flash of imagery or setting will set off a spontaneous feeling of sorrow or happiness, frustration or guilt. show less

I took a class from Robert Haas during my undergrad. He was a vague teacher but his lectures were careful, rigorous, and were often delivered with a gentleness that made what would otherwise be burdensome topics graceful. So it is with this collection of Haiku by Buson, Basho, and Issa. Among the projects he set forth in the this edition, Haas wanted to show through contrast, how each master's personality and style comes through their work however restricted the form. The effect of reading show more this collection is that the differences become clear:

Issa's comical voice:

I'm going out,
Flies, so relax,
Make love.


Buson's imagery:

The spring sea rising
and falling, rising
and falling all day.


Basho's philosophical melancholy:

First day of spring-
I keep thinking about
the end of Autumn.


I highly recommend this collection for anyone interested in the Haiku form. Though there are some cultural and translational fault lines mapping the boundaries of this style of poetry the main ideas come through, often in unexpected ways: a flash of imagery or setting will set off a spontaneous feeling of sorrow or happiness, frustration or guilt. show less

This is the most wonderful collection of Issa's writings I've ever seen. "The Spring of My Life" is a haibun of 21 chapters. Each basically starts with a short anecdote and is followed by a series of haiku on related themes. The anecdotes are alternately charming, fascinating, and disturbing.

Sam Hamill gives a very readable and honest translation. In the latter half of the book is a collection of about 160 haiku with English and romaji versions of each. I started noticing problems in the show more translations as I read the Japanese versions -- Hamill has added filler words, making the moon into a "bright moon" and a frog into an "old frog". Harmless enough, but unnecessary -- it appears he's done it just for the sake of making most of the English haiku be 5-7-5, which is hardly justification enough for altering the meaning of the poems.

Still, this was one of the most inspiring collections of haiku I've read. show less

Poem selection is average. Aesthetically, the translations are merely passable. (At one point he quote's Amy Lowell's version of a Buson poem, which only has the unintended consequence of making his appear inferior.) But the real problem here are the notes.

Whether it requires it or not, each poem is accompanied by a paragraph or more of only marginally useful notes. Well, notes is probably not entirely correct, as that would suggest that they help to explain the meaning of obscure terms or show more references. Sometimes, perhaps even the majority of the time, they do. (His note on Basho's famous helmet/cricket poem is an example of a good one, for instance.) But a decent amount of the time they serve as little more than an excuse for the author to meander off on whatever tangent the poem has reminded him of — his travels, his life, what he thinks the poet was feeling at the time. Often this is interwoven into the insightful bits, but sometimes the notes serve no purpose but this meandering stream of consciousness.

Eventually, somewhere in the section on Issa, I just stopped reading them. My enjoyment of the collection went up after that.

My final verdict? Find another anthology instead. show less