In the past, when I was seeking a concept which would help understand the novel, it was this voice, the one I call the voice of the writing, which seemed to be the most important concept for understanding the novel. But I wasn't able to say very much about it. Because in a way, it does not allow itself to be understood, it is not made to be understood, on the contrary it is made to appear impossible to understand.

Only, I realised that this voice was present in the literature that I loved, and that it made itself heard even more distinctly - yet another paradox - in the literature which appears the least oral, the most written, in "polyphonic" novels, for example, but I couldn't say much about it (later, the poet and philosopher Maurice Blanchot helped me understand what sort of voice it was).

And the theatre?
I would be tempted to believe that it can be understood in the same way. And in fact, I would be tempted to believe that it is here that the silent word first made itself heard. (…)

I call this voice the voice of the writing. And it is only when the theatre becomes a sort of scenic writing that this voice is heard, when it speaks without speaking, through the state created by the scenic changes, by their minuscule linguistic and gestural movements, by their motifs and their stylised images.
Then the silent word is heard, full of unknown meaning.

And then it is a voice which speaks without speaking, but it is scarcely a human voice, it is certainly not the voice of the writer nor that of the director, it is a voice which comes from far away.

Jon Fosse
French text by Terje Sinding
Extract from Voix sans parole
text published in the programme of Nammet (Le Nom)
premiered 27th May 1995 at the Nationale Scene de Bergen