Cryptonomicon by Neal Stephenson

“Two tires fly. Two wail.
A bamboo grove, all chopped down
From it, warring songs.

. . . is the best that Corporal Bobby Shaftoe can do on short notice—he’s standing on the running board, gripping his Springfield with one hand and the rearview mirror with the other, so counting the syllables on his fingers is out of the question. Is ‘tires’ one syllable or two? How about ‘wail?’ The truck finally makes up its mind not to tip over, and thuds back onto four wheels. The wail—and the moment—are lost.”

The opening lines of Cryptonomicon by Neal Stephenson.

I loved the disorientation this opening produced when I first read this book. I tend to think of haiku as a quiet sort of poetry, contemplative and focused on the natural world and the inner self. The juxtaposition of the haiku with the military figure, clinging to a jeep that is careering along, made for a delicious contrast, one so strong and unexpected that it took me time just to figure out what was going on. The haiku itself also runs counter to my expectations, with its modern, manufactured tires and its cacophony (wailing; warring songs); and even if the presence of the bamboo grove promises something more appropriate to the form, it turns out the grove has been chopped down.

But the disruption of the settled order that this unusual haiku suggests is perfectly appropriate for wartime, which, is turns out, is the setting for the action of the scene.

In the end, it’s just a great image: the soldier, clutching his gun and in the midst of, if not battle, at least chaotic and frenetic activity, and yet making art on the fly and worrying about his syllable count.