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WE’RE READING FOR ISSUE 03!

And will be until Friday, November 28th 2014. After which time we’ll still be reading, but for issue 04 (which is in the future). More details are available¬†here.

Thanks!

 

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WE’VE GOT AN EVENT COMING UP

Literary Oddities Poster

For more information visit the events page here (or the facebook page here).

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LOOK AT THIS SUBMISSIONS FLIER ISAAC MADE US

FCP Submissions Flier 02 02

(only three weeks left — http://fourchamberspress.com/submit)

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10 WEEKS IS WAY TOO LONG TO DO A PROMOTIONAL CAMPAIGN

Especially when we are woefully behind on everything else we need to do. So what we decided to do instead is release all of our remaining promotional content (3 prose pieces, 5 poems and 2 full color art works) in one go. Take a look at them here.

Thanks!

 

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GIRL GROUPS

I imagine it’s the same feeling you’d get sitting in the back seat of a car crash, or watching an asteroid fall to the earth.

“My father kept saying he was going to leave us: at the grocery store, while driving too fast, during the intermission of a Christmas play.¬† I prayed for him to stay, cried and begged, wrapped my arms around his thighs. And then he left. It was February, a week after my ninth birthday.”

And when he does, time doesn’t so much stop as it begins to get curled, tangled. Not only in the endless drives Michelle and her mother take into the night, the movies they watch over and over and over again, the memorized lines, the same songs they keep listening to, rewind and repeat. Even the breathing. It’s the manipulation of tense and repetition that really carry the effect through, that make you feel it. Nolan is always fixing the locks, high on LSD. How she repeats the words, as if to convince herself it was real. Her father is gone.

I don’t know anything about Motown, let alone music. I know it sounds happy, that sometimes it makes me want to dance. Occasionally I think it comes across as simple or naive. But after listening to the tracks a few times, reading Michelle’s piece, I realize there’s a very fine line between simplicity and starkness. That sometimes surfaces can be quite deep.

Michelle’s work is not simply a powerful story, pure narrative enjoyment, shorn of all figurative or flowery adornment. It’s a seamless execution of the memoir form itself: Michelle isn’t in her or story at one point and then reflecting above it in the next. There’s no difference here between character and narrator, the past and the present. As it lives for her, so she lives in it. Her father is gone. He always will be.

To read Michelle’s piece, click here.

To order Four Chambers 01, click here.