End of the year reading: Masterpieces of Chinese Art; Japanese Painting: A Brief History; Haiku: Japanese Art and Poetry and The Diving Bell and the Butterfly by Jean-Dominique Bauby

It's the end of the year and so far I have read 76 books since July.  I was supposed to be on a book-buying fast until I read 100 books but I broke down somewhere after 50.  Here's what I wrapped 2015 up with:

 

Masterpieces of Chinese Art is a comprehensive overview of the development of art in China.  It starts with the Bronze age and arrives at the Qing dynasty.  Not only does this lovely book describe each dynasty and their impact on Chinese art but also each ruler and clan that came into power, how they came into power, who they overthrew and how that affected the Chinese culture and its expression through the arts. Each chapter is filled with photos of paintings, calligraphy and artifacts of sculpture and architecture.




 This is a book that has been gathering dust on my bookshelf since a college room mate gave it to me in an effort to lighten her load as she moved back home.  When it says "a brief history" they indeed mean brief.  The book is about 100 pages and even though each page has a painting that is described and the artist's philosophy explained as well as the some backdrop as to the time and place, the photos are black and white.  Always a cheat when looking at art books.

Far more worthwhile a read is Haiku:  Japanese Art and Poetry.



 Other than a brief introduction where the writers provide basic information on haiku and the various poets, the pages mostly speak for themselves.  Each spread has a delicately produced Japanese scene, either of nature on a large scale, i.e. woods or mountains with tiny people walking, or a close up of a flower or animal, often birds.  Accompanying the art on the other page is a haiku poem.  A nice book to look at and enjoy the peace and calm such an exercise produces.

 The last book I've read is by Jean-Dominique Bauby.  Bauby was the editor of the French magazine, Elle.  In 1995 he collapsed from a major stroke which left him paralyzed but mentally competent, otherwise known as "locked-in syndrome."  The only organ of his body that he could move was his left eyelid.  By blinking he dictated this book, a memoir, which is a testimony to his indomitable spirit.

An ordinary day. At seven the chapel bells begin again to punctuate the passage of time, quarter hour by quarter hour.  After their night's repsite, my congested bronchial tubes once more begin their noisy rattle.  My hands, lying curled on the yellow sheets, are hurting, although I cna't tell if they are burnging hot or ice cold  To fight off stiffness, I instinctively stretch, my arms and legs moving only a fraction of an inch.  If is often enought to bring relief to a painful limb.

My diving bell becomes less oppressive, and my mind takes flight like a butterfly.  There is so much to do.  You can wander off in space or in time, set out for Tierra del Fuego or for King Midas's court. 

The book is only 125 pages, but it is not a sad, angry rant at fate but the poignant musings of someone who raced through life but is now left only with his thoughts.  He draws his life for us up to the point of his stroke.  In a charming narration Bauby recalls friends, past relationships, family and events.  He propels himself to other countries and delectable cuisines using his imagination. 

One thing that stood out to me was his unexpected discovery of character traits of friends and acquaintances.  Many wrote him letters.  Those he thought himself close to, often gave only shallow, curt messages.  Others that he had previously only had superficial conversations with took the time to write long, feeling letters, revealing previously unknown depths.

As brief as it is.  This will be one of my favorite books.

That is all for now. Next week I will provide another installation of our ride down the Rhine.  My prayer is for you all to have a blessed and safe year.  Take care!

Haiku Inspirations by Tom Lowenstein with Victoria James

This New Year's I went to the Gulf Coast to visit my parents and sister's family.  Needless to say we spent a lot of time on the beautiful beaches of Destin and Grayton Beach.  What can I say?  Miles of blinding white sand, sand pipers, sea gulls...no one but us because of the cold season-except a few crazy northerners braving the frigid water.  In the winter the sun takes an hour to set on the horizon and the colors are so brilliant.


I always like to go to Barnes and Noble afterward, which is on the way back home.

 
We arrive at the store. Derek, my son immediately loses himself in the aisle of graphic novels.  After I look at the bargain books, I treat my mother and myself to coffee where we visit.  This is our tradition every time I come home.  I tell her as I tell myself that, other than the half price Christmas cards, I'm not buying anything.  Nothing.  Nada.  I don't need any more books.  My mother laughed and sipped her coffee.  She knows me too well.

I almost made it.  I almost spent a pleasant couple of hours in a bookstore without buying any books. We were walking towards the exit when I saw it.   A beautiful hardback about one of my favorite forms of poetry:  Haiku Inspirations by Tom Lowenstein and Victoria James.  I left the store with it  (and a  hardback of Robert Frost's poems, but that's another post.)

On the way back to Texas I let Derek drive so I could read my treasure.  Even when we stopped at a Denny's for dinner, I brought the book in to read.  Haiku: Inspirations was even more than I originally thought it was.  Yes it is a book of Haiku but it contains even more.

 Lowenstein and  James divide into brief chapters the history of Haiku, the original authors of Haiku, and their different styles, the Buddhist and Shinto beliefs that inspired the art form, and the different reigning families  that supported and developed art and literature in Japan.

 From the Tale of Genji: Court Life

They also give a concise history of Japan, from their Chinese influences to where they eventually broke out into their own uniquely Japanese style.  We learn about Society and Court life, the symbols and different beliefs such as Zen, Koans, about suffering, transience pilgrimage and how these different beliefs affect Haiku writing.

They describe the development of arts and culture such as calligraphy, ink painting, Japanese gardens, tea ceremony and music, dance and theater.  
 


The chapters are accompanied by paintings and photos of Japan as well as Haiku.  The introduction gives a brief description of the structure and form.  For instance, Haiku can only use "essential words" and 17 syllables.  Classic haiku is three line long, with 5-7-5 "syllables".  Of course, some of the structure will necessarily be lost when Japanese is translated into English.  


 
Another attribute is "kigo".  This means "season word" which "suggests the mood and atmosphere governing the poem."    Sometimes the name of the season is included in the Haiku, other times it is implied when a seasonal attribute is mentioned, such as a flower that only blooms in summer or the rainy season, implying spring etc.



Here are a couple of samples:

Hazy morning:

as in a painting of a dream

the people passing.

Buson

Moon behind the grasses.

Wind blows through.

The cry of a cuckoo.

Shiki

Come to me:

let's play

little sparrow orphan!

Issa

The book is a delight both to the eyes with the paintings and photos and the ears and mind with its descriptions of Japanese history and culture and, of course, the Haiku which includes authors from different philosophies and time periods.

The Narrow Road to the Deep North and Other Travel Sketches by Matsuo Basho

I love Japanese Haiku and ordered this book thinking I was getting a collection of Haiku.  While there is no shortage of Haiku in the book, it is actually a travelogue that Matsuo Basho recorded through his companion secretary, Sora,  about his travels across Japan on a spiritual journey.

Matsuo Basho (1644-1694) is considered the greatest of the Japanese haiku poets.  Zen Buddhism was a leading influence in the school of poetry he founded. According to the back of the book, these travel sketches are his bid to "discover a vision of eternity in nature and the ephemeral world about him."

Basho's poetry is beautiful.  The imagery of nature it creates evokes a sense of peace.  His elegant writing enables the reader to vicariously experience his observations as he wanders through forests, up mountains, visiting Buddhist shrines and friends.

Stretching by force

The wrinkles of my coat, 

I started out on a walk

To a snow-viewing party.

Deep as the snow is, 

let me go as far as I can

Till I stumble and fall, 

Viewing the white land scape.

I am a visual person and it's hard for me to imagine what people write or say.  That is probably why I enjoy stories with character studies or that explore ideas with minimal descriptions.  The people in the books I read always are faceless.  That makes it all the more remarkable that Basho's writing communicates clear pictures in my head of what he himself saw and experienced.

Searching for the scent 

Of the early plum, 

I found it by the eaves

Of a proud storehouse.

Poems composed in a field: 

Dyed a gay colour

My trousers will be 

By the bush-clovers

In full bloom.

In mid-autumn

Horses are left to graze

Till they fall replete

In the flowering grass.

Bush clovers, 

Be kind enough to take in 

This pack of mountain dogs

At least for a night.

I have studied Buddhism, but my fiance, Joshua,  explored Buddhism before becoming a Christian.  I was curious about what attracted him first to Buddhism and how he later came to embrace Christianity. 

For Josh, Buddhism touched upon the truth that the world is  transitory and the desires of the world an illusion.

But when rockets were flying over his head in Afghanistan, Josh realized that Buddhism did not provide the answers looming death demands.  He came to the conclusion that Christianity provides answers not only to the meaning of life, but hope after death.

How Buddhism stands in stark contrast to Christianity struck me when reading two incidents recorded in Basho's book.  Towards the end of the book Basho attends a shrine before embarking on his return journey. There he meets two prostitutes.  They are also trying to find their way home.  Each night they sleep with different men in order to pay for their journey. The two women approach Basho and beg him to let them follow him.  With tears in their eyes they say to him:

If you are a priest as your black robe tells us, have mercy on us and help us to learn the great love of our Savior.

After a moment's thought Basho replies to them:

I am greatly touched by your words, but we have so many places to stop at on the way that we cannot help you.

After he leaves them, he thinks of a haiku and has Sora write it down.

Under the same roof

We all slept together,

Concubines and I-

Bush-clovers and the moon.

But the incident that upsets me every time I think about it is one on which he writes at the very beginning of his journey.  He comes across a small child, standing by himself on the road, crying.  He has been abandoned by his parents.  The wailing of this child moves Basho to share some of his food with him.  But he walks away, saying to the child, your cries must reach heaven.  Only heaven can hear you. 

And on he continues with his journey, leaving the child alone on the road. 

I know that Buddhism requires emotionally detaching oneself to this world, but I can only view such indifference to a helpless child's desperation as cold-heartedness on the lowest reptilian level.

It renders all his beautiful words and exquisite imagery hollow.  He enjoys nature and ponders eternity, but refuses to offer hope or assistance to desperate women or an abandoned child?

It calls to mind the final judgement in the last verses in the Gospel of Matthew, chapter  25:

⁴³ I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not clothe me, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.’ ⁴⁴ Then they also will answer, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not minister to you?’ ⁴⁵ Then he will answer them, saying, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.’ ⁴⁶ And these will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.”  (From BibleGateway, ESV)

I hope to collect more books on haiku.  I can enjoy the poetry even if I can't accept the religion behind it.

 

Portrait of Matsuo Basho from the Osaka Museum