Welcome to the Third Year of
Waddling and snorting in alongside the Year of the Earth Pig, the third year of The Wall begins with an abundance of fiction, poetry, essays, and visuals.
We open with a palate-cleansing touch of Bill Hayward’s feature film, Asphalt, Muscle & Bone, which recently won Best Cinematography at the North Europe International Film Festival.
This is followed by the first installment of Christopher Sawyer-Lauçanno’s memoir, Becoming, which we are proud to announce we will be serializing.
Next up, Margot Dembo’s translation of “Meeting Again,” by Anna Seghers, captures a tone that is quietly enthralling yet profoundly unsettling.
Harbinger of the season, “Spring Duck” and other poems by Patricia Pruitt beg to be read aloud. And, in an interview about his new novel, Goulash, Brian Kimberling discusses the forced collision of capitalism and communism in Prague in 1998.
“Moon,” by Bronwyn Mills, picks up the quiet subtlety of the Seghers piece but transposes it to Istanbul, capturing the many characters (some furry) passing along the streets of the ancient Fındıkzade neighborhood. Then the portfolio of images from Chris Wynter’s astounding mosaic for the MTA beneath Frederick Douglass Circle (with some equally tantalizing images from its creation) give new meaning to “Underground.”
“The Life and Purported Death of the Hole Man” will turn you upside down, until the true sky is beneath you; yet “the sun will triumph slowly” as it comes through Marithelma Costa’s four seasons poems. Or perhaps, as Mills proposes, what we need is time away from our screens in the candlelit dark.
Joseph Schmidt demonstrates the power of story creation in this rediscovered 1952 essay on teaching high school students how to write short fiction, including reading it aloud. Fair warning, however, if you read Kelvin James’s “Dreadlocks” out loud, the “better strong words” may come, and with them a startling confusion of desires.
In our excerpt from Eric Darton’s novella, Shining Pathology, Mr. Pig’s voice issues from the pervasive dark of a dystopian future, critiquing “the once-promising detritus of the past... the disastrous promiscuity of data."
All of this topped off with a Colophon of Mass Percussion, a number of ¡Viva! celebrating the living (Ferlinghetti!) as well as luminaries we have recently lost (James Tate, Carolee Schneeman, and Selhan Endres), and a poem, "For Ferlinghetti" that says it all. We hope you enjoy and, as always, look forward to your comments.
— Hardy Griffin for the Editors