Review: ‘Plays,’ Eugène Ionesco, vol. 10
translated by Donald Watson. (London, John Calder, 1976)
John McCormick
Donald Watson’s excellence as the ‘official’
translator of Ionesco’s plays has shown itself once more in his version of Ce
formidable bordel, whose title is aptly rendered by Oh what a bloody
circus. A problem facing the translator of Ionesco is that, whilst the
essential concerns of the author are universal, the characters are well
anchored in a petit-bourgeois French world which both creates their
terms of reference and conditions their reflexes. Watson has retained this
Frenchness, leaving such expressions as ‘messieurs dames’ untranslated, while,
at the same time, using a highly colloquial English. The puns and verbal play
in which Ionesco’s plays abound are wittily tackled for example, when a
character declares, speaking of inflation, that ‘les valeurs n’ont plus de
valeur,’ this becomes ‘there’s no security in securities.’
Part of the interest of this translation, which
received its première at the Dublin Theatre Festival in October 1975, is that
it is based upon the performance script and not upon the fuller text published
by Gallimard. It is therefore briefer, with a number of cuts occurring in the
long monologues. One or two complete scenes have disappeared and the taciturn
main character (‘the character’) has become even more silent. A loss sometimes
felt in the starker performance text is that of some of the richer thematic
images. At the end of scene 13 the character explores the body of the sleeping
Agnès and, when he uncovers her sex, he is suddenly horrified: ‘What’s that
terrible sore, that gaping wound! You poor thing’ and he recovers only after
drinking some brandy. The Gallimard text has some extra lines that make the
horror more explicit, linking it to the obsessional world of the author: ‘Tout
est troué, fissuré, crevassé. Ma gorge aussi est un abîme. Je regarde, je ferme
les yeux pour mieux me voir et c’est le trou, et c’est le trou, la blessure.
Qu’on s’enferme, qu’on tienne tout avec des cordes bien serrées, que l’on
bouche les trous, les trous, les trous.’
The volume is completed by Ionesco’s film
scenario The hard boiled egg and the text of Donald Watson’s 1974
lecture on ‘Ionesco and his early English critics.’ The first of these picks up
the egg theme, which seems to have a particular fascination for Ionesco, and
describes in minute detail the process of buying, cooking, and eating an egg.
Much of the comic effect derives from the use of audiovisual aids, the
occasional surrealist flight of fancy, and a solemn jargon to describe a very
simple activity. The translation cleverly retains the textbookish language, but
the very nature of the English language makes it impossible to do full justice
to some of the word play. Thus: ‘On dit que l’oeuf est ovate parce qu’il a la
forme d’un oeuf. Ce qui est caractéristique, c’est que l’oeuf est ovate sans
avoir été ovalisé, et que son ovalité lui est toute naturelle’ becomes simply: ‘An
egg is said to be oval, because it is egg-shaped. It is a characteristic of the
egg to be oval. It has never been made oval. It is oval by nature.’
Watson’s lecture is not merely a witty survey of
critical reaction to Ionesco. It examines the impact of Ionesco on the English theatre
(‘I still believe that it was Ionesco who opened British eyes to the infinite
possibilities of fresh staging techniques.’) and suggests that his work differs
from the English nonsense tradition in its ‘precise metaphysical justification.’
The Tynan-Ionesco controversy is neatly summed up: ‘Tynan believes in
communication by recognisable, rational methods, which can be brought to bear
on ‘real’ human problems, Ionesco believes that the real human problems lie
beyond the powers of logical communication and that contact can only be made by
bypassing the logical meaning of words . . . He doesn’t believe in them as a
viable vehicle for human or social improvement, and in any case for him the
basic human problems lie beyond or outside society.’
Watson also concludes that Ionesco is not
fundamentally a pessimist, but, rather, ‘a figure searching that same area of
truth to which many young people today are so strongly attracted.’