Renga: An introduction and an invitation

I’ve been meaning for a while now to write something about renga*, the form of long collaborative verse from which the haiku was derived (by the great Basho), and which is still being written and enjoyed by millions around the globe … well, okay, maybe thousands on a good day. It fascinates me, because we have nothing like this art form in English — for us, poetry is a solo sport, in popular mythology the province of tortured, lonely geniuses sweating it out in their attic bedrooms or sordid studio apartments. (Or suburban kitchens, as the case may be.)

For the Japanese, however, poetry was for a long time a basic social skill, at least for the upper classes, a way of impressing lovers and court rivals. In The Tale of Genji, the eleventh-century work that is generally called the world’s first novel, the hero, an illegitimate son of the emperor who is implausibly and annoyingly talented at everything, is always seducing his (many, many) ladies with little verses he tosses off practically without thinking about it, and they are always replying in kind.

At that time, the tanka was one of the most prominent verse forms — five lines with 5-7-5-7-7 Japanese syllables. Tanka contests were popular among those with nothing better to do with their time. Renga, it’s hypothesized, began as a way of, um, relaxing after these contests — by writing more poetry, except this time in collaboration with your rivals instead of in competition with them. That is, it was a party game. Those crazy Japanese!

The basic idea behind renga is that one person writes the first part of the tanka (the 5-7-5 — sound familiar?) and another person writes the second part (the 7-7) — and then someone else writes another 5-7-5 connected to the 7-7, and someone else writes another 7-7 connected to that, and on and on — sometimes, in the good old days, for a thousand stanzas or more.

By Basho’s time (seventeenth century), even the Japanese were beginning to feel that this length was a little bit crazy. Basho had the idea to cap the renga at 36 stanzas, which he neatly and sensibly laid out in a little 4-page book, 6 stanzas on the first and last pages and 12 on the 2 middle pages. He also made up all kinds of rules about what kind of subjects each stanza was supposed to cover. You were supposed to start the renga with a verse about the season you were in, for instance. (This first verse of the renga is called a hokku. Basho liked writing hokku so much that he wrote a whole bunch of them without bothering with the rest of the renga, and thus the haiku was born — though it didn’t get that name until Shiki thought it up in the nineteenth century.)

These days people still frequently write Basho-style 36-stanza renga (they’re called kasen), but renga can be any number of stanzas really, written by any number of people — sometimes even solo, though that seems to kind of miss the point as far as I’m concerned. On the wondrous Interweb, you can find all kinds of detailed instructions and blank forms for composing renga of different types and different numbers of stanzas — I’ll throw some links down at the bottom of this in case you’re really interested.

For me, though, the really interesting thing about renga isn’t the form per se, it’s the way they’re composed and the way the stanzas link together. William J. Higginson and Penny Harter, in The Haiku Handbook (from which I admit I have cribbed a lot of the preceding information), explain memorably:

“The point of renga writing is not to tell a story in a logical progression. Each stanza must move in some new direction, connected to the stanza just before it but usually not to earlier stanzas. When reading a renga we do not discover a narrative sequence, but zig-zag over the different imaginary landscapes of the poets’ minds, much as a spaceship coming out of polar orbit might flash now over ice and snow, now over teeming cities, now over green forests, ultimately to splash down into blue ocean. As readers we should enjoy the flow of sights, sounds, and insights as they tumble past.”

— Higginson and Harter, The Haiku Handbook, p. 192

Just as memorably, Jane Reichhold explains how to link renga stanzas and comments a little on what it actually feels like to engage in this dance of minds:

“[T]he important thing to watch is what happens BETWEEN the links. Think of each stanza as a springboard from which you are going to jump. As your mind leaps (and you think you know where the poem is going) you should be forced to make a somersault in order to land upright in the next link. It is the twist your mind makes between links that makes renga interesting.

Some leaps are close (as in the beginning and end of the poem) so the subject is moved only slightly ahead. In the middle of the poem renga whizzes can pirouette until your head spins — and that is just what is desired.

Take your partner by the hand. Start tapping your feet. Bow. And away you go.”

— Jane Reichhold, “Jump Start to Renga

I have to say that when I first started reading renga I was a little baffled — as Jane says, my head was spinning a little. Finding the connections between stanzas can be challenging, and understanding the point of a poem that whirls from subject to subject and thought to thought so quickly was difficult for my linear Western mind.

I didn’t really get it until I found “Omelet” — a renga written by Jane and Sue Stafford, this online version of which they have helpfully annotated so that you understand what was going on in the poet’s minds when they made their leaps between stanzas. Another great annotated example is “The Click of Mahjong Tiles,” written by six different authors. I also really like the example given in The Haiku Handbook, a renga by five authors called “Eleven Hours” that can be found on pages 202-206 of the 25th anniversary edition.

Once you start to get it, it’s exhilarating to watch the flashes of understanding and communication from mind to mind, from stanza to stanza: as I said, nothing like any English poetry, and as Jane says, more like a dance, or maybe a jazz band riffing.

These days, renga aren’t written so often as a party game, because how often do you have two or more capable haiku poets, with at least several hours to spare, at a party? But the Internet and its instant communication have made it much easier to write renga long-distance. Which brings me to my (highly shy and diffident) invitation —

anyone want to renga with me? Obvious disclaimer: I don’t have any actual idea how to do this, I’m just really interested in learning. I don’t care whether you have any renga experience or not. I just kind of want to see what it’s like to pass poetry back and forth with one or more other minds. (My experiment the other day writing haibun in collaboration with my friend Alex has whetted my appetite for this even more.)

Drop me a comment or an email if this sounds interesting to you, and we’ll see what we can do.

*

More information about renga/renku:

How to Renga (Jane Reichhold’s Aha! Poetry site) — information, instructions, forms for composing renga (Basho, kasen style)

Renku Home — a world of information, mostly by William J. Higginson

Renku Reckoner — John Carley’s site that has detailed instructions and forms for composing many different types of renku

4 Elements Renga — forms and instructions for composing renga based on the four elements

—–

*Some people call it renku. I am not equipped to comment on or settle the debate on this issue. Call it whatever you want. Renga, renku, let’s call the whole thing off.

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10 thoughts on “Renga: An introduction and an invitation

  1. I’d be willing to give it a try.

    But I have to say I’m flummoxed by the rules. They’re not easy to digest and maybe the best way to learn them is by doing. I read through some of the examples and the ones which were the most intriguing were the hardest/most impossible to follow.

    So, I’ll see your diffidence and raise you trepidation. Besides having no renga experience, I don’t have a strong foundation in poetry or literature so I feel a little out of my depth in that regard.

    But, at worst, if need be, the results can always be chucked in a digital fire.

    -Steve

    • oh, YAY! thanks, Steve!
      I was hoping someone would take me up on this … and I think our sensibilities are similar enough that it could work really well for us.
      I think the “rules” are basically just guidelines, or suggestions, at this point. We can have whatever rules we decide to have. 🙂
      and what is this “no strong foundation in poetry” thing?? you have an eye for images and an ear for words, that’s really all that’s needed here…
      “a digital fire” — case in point, great image, great words.
      I’m going to wait around a couple of days to see if anyone else wants to join us, otherwise we can get going on our own — we can start out small if you want, 6 stanzas or something … we’ll talk. 🙂

  2. Cool.

    You’re welcome and thank you. I wasn’t trying to be disingenuous. I only meant I’m not well read in poetry and so I’m limited in my ability to reference or link to past works. I sometimes feel like I’m writing in a bit of a vacuum.

    But still, goofing around with words – word goofery – is right up my alley. 🙂

  3. Hey, Mel – I’m game, and I’ve participated in a few over the last couple of years, they’re so damn addictive, if you’re still working on one with Steve? Or wanna start a new one?

    And I remember thinking the same think, what’s the difference between renga & renku? I read this from a Japanese poet and translator, Keiji Minato

    “Renga is a collaborative form of poetry from Japan. In Japan it is now called “renku,” but the term “renga” has been internationally used for quite a long time, so let’s go with “renga” here. Renga was born from the tradition of waka, the traditional/prestigious poetic form with 5-7-5-7-7 morae (sound units), in the 12th century. In the beginning it rigidly followed the high aesthetic of old waka in the Royal Court. However, later it began to incorporate secular elements and gave birth to a genre called haikai-no-renga (roughly meaning “mock-renga”) or haikai. Since the end of the 19th century it has been commonly called “renku.””

    Sorry about the bit quote! But I took it to mean the word shifted with the modernisation?

    • Wow, Ash — I would be really honored to collaborate on a renga with you. Actually I feel woefully underqualified to do so — I have been following along on the Cordite zombie renga (SO great) and some of the ones on Issa’s Snail and am bowled over by their quality — I feel like I barely understand what I’m doing with this form! Steve and I have reached the last verse of our renga — we’ve had a lot of fun and I think we’ve learned a lot but we were more or less fumbling around in the dark. The intricacies of link and shift are still kind of a mystery to me.

      So — if we were to do this — do you want me to see if Steve and maybe some of the other regulars around here are interested in participating and you could coordinate and help us figure out what we’re doing? 🙂 Feel free to say no if you are unthrilled by the idea of shepherding a bunch of newbies around …

      (and thanks for the enlightenment on the difference between renga/renku — good to know that they call it renku in Japan, I hadn’t quite figured that out yet. it sort of sounds like it’s the difference between hokku/haikai and haiku — renku is the modern term for the form — so probably I should start calling it that but I’ve gotten so used to calling it renga … words, words, words … they’ll be the death of me yet. 🙂 )

  4. I’d be very happy to! Cool! Please ask anyone who you think is game, and we can get started whenever – I don’t mind sabaking (leading) the renku at all, would love to! It’s great fun.

    Glad to see you reading along at Cordite & the Snail (you should definitely post at Cordite or the snail! It’s totally open! – & the zombie one is themed, and while this is odd for renku, it’s actually a great practise with link & shift)

    Where would you like to run it? Via e-mail, or here? I could open a page at the Snail? E-mail is certainly ok.

    I’d recomend we do a Junicho, which is like a mini kasen – 12 verses – for two reasons: I’ve led them before and participated in them most, and they have everything a kasen does in a shorter space, and really shows the form and flow of renku without it being a massive project.

    How does all my rambling sound?

    Yeah, I agree with rneku/renga being like hokku/haiku etc- I use the terms almost interchangably now, but I probably shouldn’t, but most people recognise both at least!

    • Great! I’ll contact a few people I think might be up for it and get back to you. Steve has already said he’s in. Should be fun!

      (Anyone who’s reading this and might be interested in joining this project, feel free to leave a comment saying so.)

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