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Tin Ears and the So-Called “Haiku”
The tin ear is a common affliction of the man-in-the-street. He is never sure of the difference between such words as “flaunt” and “flout” or when to use “its” vs. “it’s” and he is often seen to display a sign saying “Cadillac’s sold here.” A less common form of this ailment consists in the tendency to telescope parts of two different words, in the hope of avoiding a decision as to which is correct.
It is too bad when the average dunce does this sort of thing, but it is downright disgraceful when those who pretend to some literary erudition, such as the group of ajay poetesses, commit the same error. We refer, of course, to their beloved “haiku.”
We have pointed out at length, the fact that this particular form of composition is peculiarly Japanese; that its effect is based mainly on the ambiguity of the language, and that if it is going to be carried over into English, it will demand a writer, very sensitive to nuance, so the same variety of meaning will be effected. But, alas, the sensitivity of our amateur poets is on par with the average blacksmith’s, and their work shows no greater subtlety. They have, in fact, committed the “tin-ear” crime of telescoping two words to make a hybrid term and this is probably, we suspect, where the word “haiku” comes from.
Our authority is the Webster Unabridged Dictionary, G. & C. Merriam, 2nd Edition, which is considered the best version of the dictionary produced in the United States. If you look for haiku in this dictionary, here is what you will find:
Haikai [Jap.] A species of Japanese composition in prose or in verse, cultivated in the later feudal ages. Hokku, sometimes wrongly identified with haikai, is really its poetic variety. See Hokku.
Hokku [Jap.] A fixed form of lyric, Japanese in origin, having three short unrhymed lines (5, 7 and 5 syllables) typically highly suggestive.
So, then, there is no such thing as “haiku.” There is “hokku” and there is “haikai” and as the dictionary duly points out, one is often confused with the other. But there is no such thing as haiku, and we are glad, because now amateur poets will have to stop writing those little 3-line abominations.
What Will Take Its Place?
We are continually being told not to criticize unless we can do so “constructively.” That is, don’t tear down unless you can build something to replace it.
Well, we realize that the attraction of the haiku to the average housewife poet is simply its brevity; there is time to write one or two of these while the diapers are in the washing machine, or between doing the breakfast dishes and making lunch for the kids.
All right, we rise to the challenge. We have a form which we think is better on two counts. First of all, it is shorter, only two lines instead of three. Second, it requires no subtlety whatever; the words mean exactly what they say, no more, no less.
We call this kind of poetry, the Heroic Couplet. As the name implies, it is composed of just two lines. Each line contains 8 syllables, and the accent is on the second, fourth, sixth, and eighth syllables. (For those who know the craft of poetry, this is simply iambic tetrameter, a very simple form, indeed.) The only other requirements are that the lines rhyme, and that the title of the piece refer to some historic figure, which accounts for the term “heroic.” Got all that, now? All right, here is an example:
King Tut-Ankh-Amen
He lies in his sarcophagus
With dust in his esophagus.
See? Easy, isn’t it? Well, all right, go ahead and write some of your own. Only one thing, don’t send them to us. As we have pointed out many times in the past we never print any contributions, and most of all, we never print poetry, except as a demonstration, like the above.
On Another Subject
With the departure of L. B. J. from the White House the “gun control” hysteria has died down quite a bit. The advocates of a Federal gun law got a lot more than they had expected as a by-product of the murder of Bobby Kennedy; it is not unfair to say that some of them are merely biding their time and waiting for the assassination of another public figure so that they can introduce the next and more repressive control.
One unfortunate heritage of the LBJ administration was the Commission on Violence, headed by Milton Eisenhower. Those who had thought that Milton was the brains of that family should know better by now; it is evident that he is as great a dunce as his late brother.
The Commission was infiltrated with Communists at the very beginning; there is no other explanation for its recommendation to disarm all police, taking away their revolvers and substituting some “non-lethal weapon” (of unspecified nature) instead. The question of who, exactly, is threatened by the cop’s revolver is the key to the matter. We, the general public, do not feel threatened; the sight of the revolver on the cop’s belt is a badge of office, a symbol of the “good guy,” the protector. Only the radical and the revolutionary (and of course, the criminal) feels that he is in danger from it; we would not go so far as to suggest that there were criminals on the staff of the Commission, but Communist infiltration, as we have said is a distinct possibility. We shall discuss other aspects of the Commission’s report in a future issue.
Written and published by
John S. Carroll, at
Miami Shores, Fla. 33138