Rengay: The Art of Partnering
by Carolyn Hall
The following essay originally appeared
in Frogpond XXX:2, Spring/Summer, 2007.
It excels in emphasizing the rewards of working with a partner, and in exploring
the various issues that haiku poets face when writing together collaboratively. At the end is a new postscript that expands on Carolyn’s views, or clarifies my own perspectives.
There’s probably no faster, easier way to get to know someone at a distance
than to write a collaborative piece with them. A delightful vehicle for
accomplishing this is the rengay, a six-verse linked poem on a single theme (or
two concurrent themes—see below) invented in 1992 by haiku poet Garry Gay. He
envisioned two or three poets alternately penning verses—either in one another’s
company (indoors or out) or via post. With the advent of the Internet and
subsequent ubiquity of email, it has now become common for haijin across the
globe to email rengay verses to one another and receive almost immediate
responses from their partners. Sometimes it is only a matter of minutes or
hours between the time links are submitted, discussions ensue, and edits are
made that are satisfying to both partners. The tenor of these discussions and
negotiations is often very revealing about the personalities of the poets. I
see it as the haijin version of pen pals, and it can be terrific fun.
From conversations with Garry, I
know that once having given birth to this new genre he is happy enough to watch
its form evolve and become enriched by the imaginations of those who have taken
it up. From his perspective, the two incontrovertible “rules” of rengay are (1)
more than one participant, and (2) adherence to a theme. I know that solo
rengay have been attempted by some (including myself). But what makes rengay
exciting is two or three brains working in concert. Though I may know where I’m
headed with a verse and can easily imagine a link to it, I am unlikely to come
up with anything as interesting as the associations my verse stimulates in
someone else’s brain. It’s very exciting to open my partner’s email and think, “Wow!
I never would have thought of that!”
Now of course that “Wow!” might be
either positive or negative. What if you hate that link that seems to come out
of left field and that you can’t wrap your head around no matter how hard you try?
If your partner is an old friend, it’s easy enough to say “Whatever were you thinking?” without destroying the
friendship. It’s a different matter when you’re writing with a new partner.
Here diplomacy comes into play. But it’s safe to assume that a rengay partner
is just what it says—a partner. And it’s safe to assume that a partner is
willing to work with you till you agree you’ve got it right. No doubt my
partners occasionally gnash their teeth at my suggestions and/or rejections
(just as I sometimes do at theirs). But usually they come back with a much
better verse (just as I sometimes do), grateful for the kick in the pants. A
personal failing on my part is a tendency to try to rewrite my partner’s
verse—but that puts me back into the danger zone of solo rengay. Better to just
send your partner back to the drawing board and see what emerges.
Theme
So you have a partner who’s eager to work with you. Now how do you go about
establishing a theme? In my practice I have tried a number of schemes. There is
the obvious tack of engaging in a discussion that results in an agreement to
write about death and dying, or perhaps to incorporate spices in each verse. Or
one partner may announce a desire to write on a particular theme, and the other
agrees to go along for the ride. An equally valid approach is to simply begin
with a verse presented by one player. The second player links to the opening
verse. The nature of that link begins to suggest a theme. It may, in fact,
determine the theme. But sometimes it is not until the third verse is linked to
the second that the theme becomes apparent to both partners. (This is the point
at which a secondary theme may also become apparent. For example, “This is
obviously a rengay about art, but it looks like we have atmospheric conditions
in each verse as well. Let’s carry that throughout.”) I’ve found that no one of
these schemes is superior to another. Each can result in very satisfactory
rengay so long as you are in agreement.
Ground Rules
Some ground rules to establish up front: Is it okay to send your partner
back to the drawing board? (Some people are uncomfortable being asked to give
it another try.) Does your partner expect you to send just one link, or does
s/he prefer to be given two or three verses to choose from? There’s no reason
partners can’t differ in this approach. One can choose to send only one at a
time; the other may be more comfortable sending three or four and leaving it up
to his/her partner to choose.
Another issue that may come up is
the form of the verses. I have a partner who feels very strongly that the
two-liners should be strong, standalone haiku, complete with caesura. Others
treat the two-line verses more like the two-line component of a traditional
three-line haiku (“the delicious tickle / of a lady bug”) with no break. I find
that a hard break in every verse tends to make the finished poem feel a bit
choppy. But if that effect can be avoided, either way works.
An aspect of rengay that I
struggle with is the relative importance of the individual verses. Should each
be the strongest haiku you can write on the subject? (For example, would you
submit it to a journal or to a contest?) Or is it more important to write the
strongest verse you can under the circumstances, taking into account the
necessity of linking to the previous verse and sticking to the theme. I tend
toward the “strongest verse under the circumstances” school. If that turns out
to be a very strong standalone haiku, so much the better. But in rengay, each
verse is in service to the poem as a whole.
On this same topic, I sometimes
will offer up an opening verse that is not the strongest haiku I have ever
written. For example, “summer dusk / blurred colors of the freight train / on
the opposite track” is an adequate haiku, but no contest winner. Yet it works
well as a rengay opener because there are any number of associations an
imaginative partner may bring to it and which might make interesting themes, such
as opposites, trains, travel, fading light. In fact, my partner (Billie Wilson)
responded with “vesper bells / a scatter of bluebirds,” and the theme soon
established itself as “blurred colors.” The rengay was published in Mariposa.
Another issue to agree on is
whether verses must link to the preceding verse, or only to the general theme.
In traditional renku, both link and shift are essential. Rengay doesn’t insist
upon the shift—in fact it discourages it. But I think linking to the previous
verse is half the fun and results (generally) in stronger rengay. One must be a
bit cautious, however. When focusing only on the linking aspect, it is easy to
shift so far from the previous verse or verses that that the poem loses its
coherence. As an extreme example:
swelling
quince buds
a
wild turkey teeters
on
the fence
the
town drunkard
makes
his way home
The obvious link is between “teeters” and the stumbling drunk. (Or perhaps
between the drunkard and Wild Turkey!) But the subject matter of the two verses
is so disparate, and the shift in mood so abrupt, that it is impossible to
intuit from them what the overall theme might be. In a long renku, linking and
shifting balance each other out and make for an interesting journey. Rengay is
too short to accommodate such shifts and they leave the reader perhaps feeling
as if she is stumbling from one verse to the next. As a general rule, the shift
should be neither so weak nor so strong that it calls attention to itself.
This leads us to the issue of
variety. Once you’ve chosen a theme, can you come at it from all possible directions?
Can you skip around from one season to another? (Garry would say no, though I
have seen successful rengay that do this.) Is it alright to move from indoors
to out and then in again? Sometimes it’s fun to stay “in the neighborhood” or “in
Hawaii.” My partner and I once took second place for a rengay in which we never
got out of grandma’s kitchen. But she is the same partner who will often remind
me that “it’s time we had some sound,” or “it feels like we need something
moving upwards at this point.” I am always grateful for her suggestions because
those considerations don’t often occur to me—and I think they always make for a
stronger poem. My answer to the questions I’ve posed above is that I have no
right answer. The most I can say is that it is important that the verses hang
together; that they are innovative while all the while sticking to the theme.
And, as with haiku in general, it is never a bad idea to engage several of the
senses.
Title
Okay, let’s assume you have six verses (whew!) and you are both pleased as
punch with the outcome. The last hurdle is the title. The title should be
related, obviously, to the theme. And when the theme is subtle and may need to
be teased out from each verse, the title is an excellent opportunity to guide
the reader. My own preference is to choose a line (or a portion of a line) from
the rengay to serve as the title. (But it’s important not to give away the
punch line if there is one at the end.) I also prefer to hint at, rather than
spell out, the theme. (For example, I’d choose “Once in a Blue Moon” over the
more obvious “Colors.”)
Rewards
I have found collaborating with rengay partners extremely rewarding. If you
haven’t already done so . . .
try it, you’ll like it. You never know where it
might take you!
Imagining
Eve
fig
leaves
in
April moonlight—
imagining
Eve
first date . . .
he
helps me see Orion
Himalayan
dawn
through
open tent flaps
a
yeti sighting?
close of day—
in
the center of the fairy ring
bluebells
searching
the heavens
for
Heaven
newfound love—
a
rainbow from one pot of gold
to
the other
Carolyn Hall
Billie Wilson
Frogpond
XXVI:1, Winter 2003
Rengay Format
All rengay consist of six verses composed in the following formats.
- For two people (Poet A and Poet
B): 3 lines/Poet A, 2 lines/Poet B, 3/A, 3/B, 2/A, 3/B
- For three poets (A, B, and C): 3
lines/A, 2 lines/B, 3 lines/C, 2/A, 3/B, 2/C
Postscript
by Michael Dylan Welch
Carolyn Hall’s essay on rengay is a vital
addition to the literature promoting this form. I admire how she emphasizes the
rewards of working with a partner, and explores the issues that haiku poets
face when writing collaboratively. Here are fourteen additional comments and
observations:
- It was actually me
who suggested the three-person form, not Garry. When he first shared the idea
of the two-person form (just before we wrote “Deep Winter,” the very first
two-person rengay together, on 9 August 1992), I immediately proposed the
three-person form that has been followed ever since.
- Interesting that
Garry considers having at least two participants as an incontrovertible rule.
As Carolyn’s essay mentions, I (and others) enjoy writing solo rengay—I’ve
written a dozen or more. I think they’re just as legitimate as solo renku, even
if the primary virtue of both rengay and renku is to write collaboratively. Carolyn
is right that writing rengay with a partner is superior, but it’s also
interesting to see what you can come up with on your own.
- I appreciate what Carolyn
says about diplomacy if you don’t like a partner’s verse. I’ve had two rengay
stuck at the fifth and sixth verses (one of them a truly outstanding rengay)
because I pushed back. I may not be the most diplomatic person, but I sure
tried. I pushed back because the verse each poet offered departed from the rengay’s
theme or progression (I wish these two partners would be grateful for the kick
in the pants, as Carolyn put it, but so far, no). I think one reason I’ve done
pretty well at HPNC rengay contests (when I wasn’t judging) is because of being
a stickler for theme. I also believe that the theme works best if it’s fairly
objective and accessible rather than subjective or conceptual (however,
secondary or tertiary themes can indeed be more conceptual). I tend to work out
the theme with my partner beforehand, but I recognize that other ways of
arriving at a theme can work well too.
- Carolyn’s essay
doesn’t address it, but another issue I’m a stickler on is making sure the
two-line verses really are two-liners. The 2013 HPNC rengay contest winner had
one verse (by John Thompson) that felt like a three-liner forced into two
lines. I liked the verse itself, but it was flawed in form, and for me that
would have kept the rengay from being a first-place winner, which I believe
should serve as a model to follow in all aspects of craft. This is something I
push back on with partners. Carolyn does talk about the issue of whether the
two-liners need to be standalone verses, with a cut. I agree that they don’t
have to do that, but I do think they need to avoid being three-liners forced
into two lines.
- Regarding the
setting of themes, I too have tried all the methods Carolyn mentions. The
danger of just starting with a poem and seeing where it goes (especially
without discussion) is that you can end up with a renku, and have such an abstract
or nebulous theme that readers won’t even be able to tell what it is. No matter
how good the individual verses might be, I’ve read too many rengay (even
occasionally in HPNC rengay contest results) that have no clearly discernible
theme. To me, this means the rengay shouldn’t be selected, no matter how fine
individual verses might be. The theme is vital. If the rengay’s main theme is not
fairly obvious (with overtones), then perhaps it’s not a successful rengay. Not
all themes need to be handed to readers on a platter, and if they are, then
secondary themes would add deeper resonances, but if the theme is too obscure,
then the rengay misses one of its main requirements—and opportunities.
- If a rengay’s theme
is too abstract or is clear only (or mostly) to its participants, then to me
that’s a weakness. One wants subtleties, of course (especially with secondary
or tertiary themes), but I think one could do that in rengay and have a more obvious or objective primary theme.
In fact, I would say that the most obvious/primary theme in the best rengay isn’t
really what the rengay is about, and that the overtones or additional themes
often carry more weight, or tell the real story, and that’s what I look for
beyond the obvious theme. For me, if I’ve got the time and creativity to pull
it off while writing rengay, it’s getting those deeper subtleties to work in the context of the
surface theme that makes the best rengay shine. If the theme is too subtle,
then the rengay isn’t far enough removed from any old renku. However, a rengay that
has an obvious theme but has little else to it is merely superficial.
- Something else that’s
interesting about rengay is that it’s sometimes possible to completely
rearrange the sequence of the verses once you finish, because the theme itself
makes it hang together. I don’t often do this, but occasionally my partner and
I have thought that a particular verse might work better as a starting or
ending verse, in particular. It’s surprising what good things can happen—sometimes—by
moving the verses around (while still maintaining the prescribed pattern of
authorship). This has now become something I at least consider upon completion
for every rengay I write, even if, most of the time, I don’t propose any
rearrangement. It’s worth thinking about.
- I agree with Carolyn’s
point of writing the “strongest verse under the circumstances.” That makes the
writing of the rengay an “event,” which is very much in the social tradition of
renga and renku in Japan. That doesn’t mean you couldn’t go back and revise a
rengay (actually, according to Haruo Shirane, Bashō sometimes rewrote renku
verses by others as well as his own, even changing the authorship of verses!), but there’s something
satisfying in knowing you wrote a rengay together in a particular place
(baseball game, Japanese garden, and so on), but that’s less true for rengay
written over the Internet.
- As for the matter
of linking and shifting in rengay, the theme itself always provides a link, but
it’s fun to weave in other links. A related issue is that I do think the verses in rengay need to
shift sufficiently. However, the distinction with rengay is that the shift has
to take place in ways other than with the theme. In other words, rengay verses should shift within the context of the
theme. So I’m not sure I agree with the statement that “Rengay doesn’t insist
upon the shift—in fact it discourages it.” Rather, it is only the theme itself
that is anti-shift. There’s no reason not to shift as well as you can aside
from the link provided by the theme. In fact, many of the best rengay succeed
by the surprising shifts they have despite being linked together by a clear
theme. (As an aside, Carolyn’s example of the teetering turkey followed a town
drunkard is most likely fine as a renku link, although some purists might say
it’s too close or too obvious, actually, rather than too much of a shift. In
any event, I agree that it’s not a good rengay link because, as Carolyn says,
the subject matters are too disparate.)
- I agree with Carolyn
that it’s fine for a rengay to explore multiple seasons (I’m not convinced that
Garry would say no to that, and I don’t think it would take much work to find
an example where he’s probably done exactly that). In fact, I’ve written rengay
where each of the three-line verses was a different season, with the two-liners
being nonseasonal—and this itself was one of the “themes” of the rengay (though
not the only one).
- Regarding titles, I
agree that they are important tools. When the rengay’s theme is perhaps less obvious,
the right title can make the rengay click into place by pointing to the theme. Or, where the verses
themselves make the theme pretty obvious, you can be more creative with the
title—even to the point of intentional misdirection. You can use the title to point to
or point away from the theme—and do
so deliberately. It can sometimes be a sort of sleight of hand. The
relationship of the title to the rengay is every bit like the relationship
between any two renku or rengay verses, linking and shifting, creating synergy.
There’s an art to titling. One point I’d add is that if one is using or
adapting a line from the rengay itself as the title, I find it works best if
the selected poem appears first or last in the sequence (with last best, if at
all), or at least this location is a notch better than if the verse appears in
the rengay’s interior. When the title comes from the last verse, that helps to
give the rengay a sense of resolution and completion as you re-encounter the
title in the final verse, creating a bookend effect. However, there’s no hard and fast rule, and titles
that are not based on any of the verses directly can still be perfectly
excellent too.
- Another question is
how to present one’s rengay. The example Carolyn includes at the end uses
italic to indicate the author of three of the six verses. The advantage of this
is that it avoids having to put each author’s name or initials next to each
verse, which can look cumbersome. The disadvantage is that italic can subtly
change the way an individual verse is received, perhaps as if it’s being
emphasized. Another option is to merely list the names of the poets at the top,
with the person who wrote the first verse listed first. Then, readers who know rengay
patterns will know who wrote each verse. The disadvantage of this is that not
everyone knows the patterns, and authors or editors may not be consistent in
listing the writer of the starting verse first. Yet another issue is whether to
indent the two-liners. I’ve also seen the three-liners indented rather than the
two-liners (which works well if the two-liners happen to each have long lines).
As long as participants make conscious choices regarding what to do, I imagine that
it’s worthwhile leaving the visual appearance up to the authors, and I could
even see the choices as potentially enhancing the rengay’s theme, such as
stair-stepping each of the verses if the theme happened to be stairs, for
example—if that wasn’t too much of a gimmick. Rengay has shown itself to have
many aspects that allow for endless creativity and variety.
- Carolyn has told me that she enjoys writing rengay but doesn’t really enjoy
reading them. This is a common complaint about renku, and has been for
centuries (which is why only the hokku was considered “art”—the rest of it was
really a social activity, and frequently discarded). I too have found most renku to
be tedious to read, even when I was one of the participants writing it,
although they can be great fun to write. But I do happen to find rengay much
more enjoyable to read than renku, and I think it’s because of the theme,
including both obvious and more subtle themes.
- One final thought
is the format for rengay. In addition to the standard two-person and three-person
formats, which are the most common, poets have also embraced the solo form,
with one person writing all six verses, sometimes taking on a persona for
alternating verses, and the six-person form, in which six different poets each
contribute one verse. These are natural extensions of the form, and the
six-person variation is a wonderful way to engage a small group of poets at a
special occasion.
I’m delighted to
have Carolyn’s informative essay on Graceguts.
— 14, 16, 30 October 2014
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