For the Fighting Spirit of the Walnut

by Takashi Hiraide

The radiant subway. The wall that clears up, endless. A thundering prayer of steel that fastens together the days, a brush of cloud hanging upon it, O beginning, it is there—your nest. Thus the keynotes of Hiraide’s utterly original book-length poem unfold—a mix of narrative, autobiography, minute scientific observations, poetics, rhetorical experiments, hyper-realistic images, and playful linguistic subversions—all scored with the precision of a mathematical-musical structure.

Genres: Poetry, Japanese Literature, Japan, Asian Literature

144 pages, Paperback

First published June 30, 2008

About the author

Takashi Hiraide was born in Moji, Kitakyushu in 1950. He has published numerous books of poetry as well as several books of genre-bending essays, including one on poetics and baseball. He has also written a novel, A Guest Cat; a biography of Meiji poet Irako Seihaku; and a travelogue that follows the traces of Kafka, Celan, and Benjamin in Berlin. His poetry book, Postcards to Donald Evans, is published by the Tibor de Nagy Foundation. Hiraide is a professor of Art Science and Poetics as well as a core member of the new Institute for Art Anthropology at Tama Art University. For the Fighting Spirit of the Walnut won the 2009 Best Translated Book Award for poetry.

Reviews

[Chris M.H · Rating 3 out of 5]

Despite the introduction of the book confirming that these writings were separate from poetry, branching off into the form of other styles, I still found it a challenge to read - as I don't read a lot of poetry, and I thought this was.

It's heavy laden with metaphors and unique syntax which is Takashi Hiraide's writing. At times when I understood each word and could see the whole picture, what revealed itself to me was inspiring.

"Midway down the deep darkness of the trash bin, the kid plum finally caught on. "Oh, I am about to rot away, without ever having leapt, never having known anything tough and shiny." And then, through the wet wrappers and bread crumbs, he slid down two plum-lengths. Cheering is heard from afar."

This brief passage captures brilliantly those moments in the day when you find the volition in yourself to let your imagination run away with you, often without even having a second thought about what's happening, embellishing whatever you can find with character and life.

"May the hairy danger always keep holding your hand. May the wicked prayers and select anxieties always move my lungs. And may the days not run by, the sound of love nearly escape confirmation, and the bone ash of our repeatedly burning stories cook our deeds in the furnace of destruction's truth"

Now if anyone can put their finger on exactly what this is referring too I'd be much obliged. I can't quite figure it out but he's into something. I can feel he's looking deep, he's raging with a passion and it comes out in this wonderful, impetuous phrase.

I really enjoyed reading these short, slightly distinct poems. They took me into a new perspective and will no doubt allow me to appreciate the smaller, perhaps more precious moments of the everyday.

[Joséphine · Rating 2 out of 5]

Reading experience: ??? (pretty!) ? (no?) ?????? ... brain overload ... ????? (too sharp) ? (stiff) ????

A few of my favorites (aka the ones which made a bit of sense to me):

7. Protected by a hard shell, the fight just to continue sleeping. Not only for those pitiful drupes, but also the bold army of snails who spiral single file down the escape well of a skyscraper - single-mindedly, dragging along the breath of their sleep.

23. BECAUSE ALL THEORIES ARE IMPLICATIONS SLIGHTLY TOO LARGE FOR THEIR SUBSTANCE, THEY SHOULD, WITH NEITHER REJECTION NOR ENCOURAGEMENT, BE RUBBED WITH CARE AND SINCERITY, SPAT UPON AS THE TRANSFERRED IMAGE SPAT OUT BY THE WAYSIDE IN BYGONE DAYS. IN THIS WAY, THY LOST, SOFT SKIN, RATHER THAN THE DRAWING, COMES TO BE DRAWN IN THIS MOVEMENT OF THE RUBBING FINGERS. SUBSEQUENTLY IT IS TO BE HIT BY A STONE, DRIED BY THE SUN, AND IF THOU SHOULDST SCRAPE AT IT ROUGHLY WITH SHARPENED FINGERNAILS OR A HIGONOKAMI KNIFE, EVEN THE DUST OF IMPLICATION SHALL APPEAR TO DANCE A SMALL TEMPEST - AND THAT IS AN ESPECIALLY JOYFUL THING.

79. Clutched tightly in the bosom of the enemy, what sort of love letter or declaration or will could there be at this point. We are all unexploded shells, wrapped around an inner field of nettles. Partitions that lack each others' separated beloved. Wrinkled eyes reflect on the cellophane cleft hanging from my shoulder. Things that will break, for certain, at a precise cross section. It is now time for me to part ways with these guys, right through that cross section.

98. The bliss of existing after having been erased. Crushed and in that form, the joy of bathing in the first light. Traces of the sprinkling will sizzle madly in the zero-degree fire - the force of crystallization into the force of destruction, and the force of destruction into the clatter of what is destroyed, are now struck back into the course of the swirl I've just lived through.

Review: I don't know. I had a much better time with Takashi Hiraide's novel The Guest Cat because I actually understood things and the poetry was much simpler, related to nature and domestic things. Here there were multiple issues:
1) translation from the japanese,
2) my english is not that good, so I couldn't read this comfortably
2) I'm not really used to reading contemporary poetry and I found it difficult,
3) poems that I found too wrapped in their poetic form, without much other meaning (nature and spirituality are my favorite themes.)

[Jimmy · Rating 3 out of 5]

I read this late last night. I wasn't able to give it a careful read. I think to do that would require much more effort, as I couldn't really wrap my head around these. Normally a poem series has some kind of angle. You just latch on to that early and you know how to read the rest of them. But these poems vary in tone and subject just enough to make it kinda hard, but still engaging and interesting. I finished the book with a good feeling. He talks about walnuts a lot, and there's something about the inside of a walnut looking like the human brain, and having two halves, with membranes, which begs the question of crossing over. OK. This wasn't really in the book, this is just what walnuts make me think about. He does talk about crossing over a lot though, which is interesting. He talks about trains a lot too, and lines (as in poetry) and language... and nature. This might be worth a re-read sometime later, when I'm smarter, maybe I'll get more from it. Here's a good excerpt:

"Why not use your fluttering tongue to wipe the sweat off of that starling who is trying to strip off her wings. It's so distant of you, my arboreal lover on the outskirts of town. From the shadow of the clothes hanging in a thrift shop, a single antelope watches you. Steel-colored eyes of contempt."

[sisi · Rating 3 out of 5]

“Suffering stole the torturous enemy from the walnut. But therein lies one chance. We, too, stumble around speaking of love and such, seek with our rooted fingers the intricate ducts of these creatures everywhere, and with a bent tooth of light, plan to bite some off.”

- sparse, eccentric note-form poetry whose significance can sometimes can be a bit too vague or disordered to process, but remains unique/pretty in its arrangement nonetheless

[Rebecca Schwarz · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5 stars. There are many transcendent moments scattered throughout these brief prose poems and it's definitely worth reading. For me, it somehow didn't coalesce into much beyond the momentary.

[Uther Pendragon · Rating 2 out of 5]

This was not the worst thing I've ever read, but it was close. There's a reason why it took more than 25 years for the entire work to be translated into English. . . .

Beware.

[Christine Thomas]

I didn’t understand the poems. Can’t rate fairly, so won’t give any stars. I know the issue was me. Can’t say anything about the writing. Some sentences that I understood, were good.

[CX Dillhunt · Rating 5 out of 5]

Phenomenal; 111 pieces, a train, a poem about poetry & walnuts; great word plan; bilingual edition which comes in handy for studying the introductory notes but also as you read TH's poems which turn in on themselves and become notes on poetry & this poem in particular. A treatise on sound, definition, format, and language play. Colorful, beautiful, I plan to reread. Given the format of Japanese and English, the book is a visual treat (read from the covers to the center, English translation comes first if you are thinking traditional Western format).

[Steven · Rating 5 out of 5]

I started reading this book on the ferry yesterday and couldn't put it down. I'm purposely avoiding it so that I don't finish it too soon-- we'll see how that goes.

Nope, couldn't put it down. Finished. Will read again and again.

[Robert · Rating 5 out of 5]

written in 1982, but just translated into English. amazing juxtaposition of tiny prose poems that add up into something that simply defies me.

[Jay · Rating 5 out of 5]

oddly shaped cookies that taste better

[Heide · Rating 2 out of 5]

Very odd poetry.

[Martin Rock · Rating 5 out of 5]

READ THIS!

[Lone]

Well, not my cup of tea... Nothing wrong with it. Just thought it would be different.