The Fourth Wall, by Sorj Chalandon, translated by Cheney Crow (Poetry, ’14)
Poetry alum Cheney Crow has a translation of Sorj Chalandon’s The Fourth Wall, out from The Lilliput Press. Read an excerpt below.
The Fourth Wall
He closed his eyes. He was like a frail, very old man.
“The hard part is done. Your characters are ready. They are waiting for you.”
My characters?
This time I was the one who couldn’t catch my breath. He could barely whisper. His voice had a metallic sound. He explained that each actor had learned their lines, and a few rehearsals would suffice. There would be a single performance, in October. A neutral performance space, neither East nor West Beirut. On the demarcation line. An old school, a depot, anything. He wanted a space that spoke of war, worked over by bullets and mortars. Four walls, or just three. A roof didn’t matter. He had seen a decaying cinema that he liked. He envisioned the communities coming into this shadow theatre from both sides of the line. He imagined them with folding chairs, cushions, water bottles, pistachios. All factions, gathered together. Two hours on an autumn night. With fighters, their weapons lowered the length of an act.
