Stylistics

Chapter No: 01STYLISTICS AND STYLE A CHRONOLOGICAL VIEW AND CURRENT DEVELOPMENTS FOCUS ON • Ancient Times • The Middle Ages • The New Age • The 20th Century: Linguistic Schools and Conceptions beore !erdinand de Saussure • "rientations in Modern Stylistics Ancient Times In ancient Greece the use of language can be seen chiefly as an attempt to produce speeches. Hence, we may recognize a practical function of language in political and judicial speeches and an aesthetic function in ceremonial ones. The art of creating speech was called Rhetoric (from the Greek techne rhetorike and was taught as one of the main subjects in schools. The aim was to train speakers to create effecti!e and attracti!e speeches. "nother language acti!ity was the creation of poetic works. The process of artistic creation was called #oetics. Its aim was to study a piece of art, and, unlike rhetoric, it focused on the problems of e$pressing the ideas before the actual moment of utterance. The work of "ristotle (%&' ( %)) *.+. entitled Poetics is considered to be a pioneer publication in this field. His distinction of epics, drama and lyrics within artistic works is still applicable. The third field of language use was the art of creating a dialogue. The study of creating and guiding a dialogue, talk or discussion, as well as the study of methods of persuasion, was called Dialectics. The ,dialogue techni-ue. as one of the most con!enient and efficient form of e$changing e$periences and presenting research results was introduced and supported by /ocrates. This method is still known in pedagogy as the ,dialogical. or ,/ocrates0 method.. The further de!elopment of /tylistics was based on the three abo!e mentioned sources from which Poetics went its own way and created the field of study known at present as 1iterary +riticism. 2hetoric and 3ialectics de!eloped into /tylistics. The de!elopment of /tylistics in ancient 2ome, that is about %44 years later, brought the distinction of two different styles in speech represented by +aesar and +icero. Their main characteristics are summarized in the following table5 CAESAR "nd the "nalogists CICERO "nd the "nomalists • stressed regularity and system rules • focused on facts and data • their aim was to create simple, clear and straightforward speeches • other representati!es were /eneca and Tacitus • aimed at the creation and de!elopment of 67rnate 3icere0 that is flowery language • used unnatural syntactic patterns, sought for inno!ati!e often artificial sentence structures • created anomalies on all language le!els • due to their approach, where the true message and communicated content were secondary to the form of presentation, 2hetoric was called the ,mother of lies. • +icero built his theory of rhetoric on the distinction between three styles5 high, middle and low Table 85 The Analogists and Anomalists The Middle Aes 1atin was e$clusi!ely used as the language of science, art and administration, and no attempts were made to deal with problems of speech. This period shows no progress in the de!elopment of stylistics. "n anomalistic rhetoric of +icero became a model way of public speaking, which means that aesthetically attracti!e speeches were popular. They enabled speakers to de!elop their indi!idual styles. Howe!er, the influence of ancient India brought about a tendency to make speeches brief in the case of a sufficient amount of data and facts being a!ailable to a speaker. This tendency to economize the speech intentionally enhanced the distinction between the form and content. The language of science, culture and administration was !ery different from the language of common people. Howe!er, it would be inappropriate to speak about styles at this stage. It was the same language (and the same style but, of course, different phrases, clichés and stereotyped bookish Latin formulas were used in each sphere. The most apparent differences occurred in terminology. The Ne! Ae 7n the one hand there were the traditions of +icero and "ristotle, on the other, new theories of style ha!e de!eloped5 indi!idualist, emotionalist, formalist, functionalist, etc. In the era of 2omanticism the notion and term style referred e$clusi!ely to the written form of language (from Gr. stylos 9 a carver, an instrument for writing. /poken language was the main subject of rhetoric. The most impressi!e work from this period is the book L’Art poétiue (8:;' written by <icolas *oileau=3espr>au$, which became the bible of ?rench poets of the 8;th and 8&th century. This book includes e$planations of prose, poetry and drama, and is considered an unusual guidebook for poets and other artists. "t the same time it is not limited to poetics, se!eral definitions are of a stylistic character or e!en more general (e.g. ... those pieces of information which are not new should be pronounced without any special stress or accent, e$pressions should not be unnecessarily e$tended, borrowed and loan words should be a!oided and special attention should be paid to the selection of a title, etc. In general, the book is based on the poetics of "ristotle and Horatio. The three different styles are mentioned, their distinction being based on the opposition of language and parole first mentioned by +icero (and later elaborated, -uite independently, by ?erdinand de /aussure. The ?rench classical theory of styles re-uested the usage of a high (grand style in all !erbal works of art as an opposite to the e!eryday communication of common people in which the middle and low (plain styles were used. The styles were classified as 8. stylus altus (works of art, ). stylus mediocris (the style of high society and %. stylus humilis (the style of low society but could be used in comedies. This theory reflects preliminary attempts to describe the notion of style as based primarily on the selection of e$pressi!e means. "t the beginning of the 8@th century a German linguist and philosopher, !ilhelm von "umboldt described functional styles in his book #$ber die %erschiedenheit des menschlichen &prachbaues und ihren 'influss.... and treated poetry and prose (collo-uial, educational and belles=letters prose as opposites5 poetry and prose differ in the selection of e$pressi!e means, i.e. words and e$pressions, use of grammatical forms, syntactic structures, emotional tones, etc. Humboldt’s ideas appeared -uite intriguing, howe!er, and since his classification of styles was not based on and supported by any linguistic analyses of te$t samples, it remained idealistic. 1ater on, many linguists returned to and elaborated on his ideas, among others, the most influential were the members of the #rague 1inguistic +ircle (8@):, A. Bathesius, *. Ha!rCnek and ?. TrC!nDEek. /ome literary schools ha!e also contributed towards the de!elopment of stylistics. The ?rench school '(plication de Te(te de!eloped a method of te$t analysis and interpretation which is known as close reading. This method was based on a correlation of historical and linguistic information and on seeking connections between aesthetic responses and specific stimuli in the te$t. The method became -uite popular and was used by many other schools and mo!ements. The 20th Century: Linguistic Schools and Conceptions beore !erdinand de Saussure "t the beginning of the )4th century a group of German linguists, )* +roce, ,* %ossler and L* &pit-er, represented the school of the "e# Idealists. Their approach is known as indi!idualistic or psychoanalytical because its main aim was to search for indi!idual peculiarities of language as elements of e$pressing a psychological state of mind (in German “&eelische .einung”. *. +roce regarded language as a creation and thus suggested !iewing linguistics as a sub=department of aesthetics. Farl Aossler was known for looking for clues to national cultures behind linguistic details and 1eo /pitzer for tracing parallels between culture and e$pression. His working method became famous as the /pitzerian circle. Howe!er, the German school of indi!idualists and psychoanalysts belongs to the past and there are no followers anymore. The origin of the new era of linguistic stylistics is represented by the linguistic emotionalistic conception of the /rench &chool of +harles )ally. +h. *ally worked under the super!ision of ?erdinand de /aussure in Gene!a and after /aussure0s death published his work5 +ours de linguistiue générale (8@8:. *ally0s own concept of stylistics is classified as emotionally e$pressi!e because of his strong belief that each particular component of linguistic information combines a part of language and a part of a man who interprets or announces the information. Ghile at the beginning of the )4th century the 2omance countries were mainly influenced by *ally0s e$pressi!e stylistics and Germany by +roce0s indi!idual stylistics, a new linguistic and literary mo!ement de!eloped in 2ussia and became known as or$alis$. The 2ussian ?ormalists introduced a new, highly focused and solid method of literary and linguistic analysis. ?ormal method used in linguistics was based on the analytical !iew of the formH the content of a literary work was seen as a sum of its stylistic methods. In this way, the formal characteristics of a literary work are seen in opposition to its content. In other words, the focus was on ‘de!ices of artistry’ not on content (i.e. ho# not #hat. The formalists originated as an opposition to a synthesis introduced by the symbolists. The de!elopment follows from synthesis towards analysis, putting the main emphasis on the form, material or skill. The main representati!e was 2oman 7. IakobsonH others were I. <. Tynjano! and A. A. Ainogrado!. 2ussian formalism originated in 8@8:, flourished in 8@)4 ( 8@)%, and had practically stopped to e$ist by the end of the )40s. In spite of the short, about ten year, e$istence of 2ussian formalism, many ideas were modified and further elaborated. They became part of structuralism, and can also be found in the works of the members of the #rague /chool ten years later. The crucial -uestion of the mo!ement known as &tructuralism is Ghat is language and what is its organization likeJ The main ideas of structuralism are presented in its fundamental work +ours de linguistiue générale written by ?. de /aussure (8&K: ( 8@8% and published posthumously by his student +h. *ally in 8@8:. The ideas of /tructuralism penetrated not only into linguistics and literary criticism, but also into ethnography, folklore studies, aesthetics, history of arts, drama and theatre studies, etc. The programme and methodology of work of the #rague 1inguistic +ircle (8@): were truly structuralistic. They introduced systematic application of the term structuralism, which brought about new phenomena introduced into linguistics and literary study. Its influence on stylistics was crucial. The main aspects of the mo!ement can be summarized as follows5 • distinction between the aesthetic function of poetic language and the practical, communicati!e function of languageH • language is seen as a structure, supra=temporal and supra=spatial, gi!en inherently (in the sense of /aussure0s languageH • literary work is an independent structure related to the situation of its origin L creationH • indi!idual parts of literary or linguistic structure are always to be understood from the point of !iew of a comple$ structureH and • the analyses of particular works were based on language analysis because it was assumed that in a literary work all components (i.e. language, content, composition are closely inter=related and o!erlapping within the structure. The founders and main representati!es of the 0rague Linguistic +ircle were 2. 7. Iakobson, <. /. Trubeckoj, A. Bathesius, I. BukaMo!skN. "mong others were also *. Trnka, *. Ha!rCnek, I. Aachek, F. Hausenblas and ?. O. Palda. "nother structuralistic school originated in +openhagen, 3enmark represented by I. Hjelmsle!, and in the Q./. represented by R. /apir and 1. *loomfield. Recent De"el#$ment% Stylistics in the #nited $ingdom "t the time when structuralism was at its most influential in +zechoslo!akia, 3enmark and the Q/", the school known as The <ew +riticism originated in +ambridge, Great *ritain. The main representati!es were I. ". 2ichards and G. Rmpson, who introduced new terms, mainly the method of structural analysis called close reading. They de!oted great effort to the study of metaphor and introduced the terms tenor and !ehicle which are still in use. The <ew +riticism represents progress in stylistic thinking and their theory is !alid e!en today. They also ha!e followers in the Q/" (e.g. +. *rooks, 2. #. *lackmur, 2. #. Garren. )ritish stylistics is influenced by B. Halliday (8@:40s and his structuralist approach to the linguistic analysis of literary te$ts. *ritish tradition has always been the semiotics of te%t ( conte%t relationships and structural analysis of te$t5 locating literature into a broader social conte$t and to other te$ts. *ritish /tylistics and 1inguistic +riticism reached its most influential point at the end of the ;4s (Fress, Hodge5 1anguage as Ideology, 8@;@H ?owler, 2. et al5 1anguage and +ontrol, 8@;@, "ers, et al.5 1iterature, 1anguage and /ociety in Rngland 8K&4=8:&4, 8@&8. "ll three books used transformational and systemic linguistics, an o!ertly structuralist and Bar$ist theoretical approach to the analysis of literary te$ts. Two years later 2oger ?owler published a book signalling new directions in *ritish /tylistics and marking its transition to /ocial /emiotics (?owler, 2.5 1iterature as /ocial 3iscourse5 The #ractice of 1inguistic +riticism, 8@&8. ?owler0s book brings together *ritish works (Halliday with those of *arthes, *akhtin and others of Ruropean traditions. Romance, 'nglish and American stylistics are based on obser!ation and analysis of literary works (te$ts and are !ery close to poetics. The original "merican tradition is based on practical methods of creating !arious te$ts, there is a school subject called creati!e writing and composition which is !ery often identified with stylistics. The field of study of stylistics in /lo!akia is understood as more independent from poetics than the *ritish tradition, but also !ery different from the "merican tradition (more theoretical, academic, e.g. ?. Biko, I. BistrDk, T. Silka, etc.. It is necessary to mention a contribution of +zech stylistics here, namely in the field of the classification of styles. The +zech linguist, *. Ha!rCnek, one of the representati!es of the #rague 1inguistic +ircle, introduced the notion of functional styles based on the classification of language functions. "ccording to *. Ha!rCnek the language functions are5 8. communicati!e, ). practical professional, %. theoretical professional and '. aesthetic function. The first three functions are informati!e and the fourth one is aesthetic. This system of functions is reflected in the classification of styles in the following way5 8. collo-uial (con!ersational style, ). professional (factual style, %. scientific style, '. poetic (literary style. In the 8@;40s larger structures of te$ts and networks of relations within which they circulate were studied, and recourses to Hallidayan linguistics, register and genre theory became influential. Typical representati!es are 2onald +arter and 2oger ?owler. "mong the latest tendencies there is the interesting approach of te(tual &tylistics which originated in "nglo=/a$on countries (Halliday5 +ohesion in Rnglish, 1ondon 8@;:H Turner5 /tylistics, #enguin *ooks, 8@;% and from "merican centres of stylistic studies the Indiana Qni!ersity of *loomington should be mentioned (/tyle in 1anguage, 8@K&. In the 8@@40s two journals which map recent de!elopments ha!e to be mentioned5 1anguage and 1iterature (first published in Great *ritain, 8@@) and /ocial /emiotics (first published in "ustralia, 8@@8. O&ient'ti#ns in M#de&n St(listics "n important feature of stylistics is its openness, especially to related disciplines such as theory of literature, aesthetics, poetics, disciplines which influenced stylistics during its de!elopment. Rach orientation or direction of stylistics shows preference for one or the other of the disciplines abo!e=mentioned, for e$ample *ally establishes the link stylistics= linguistics, while /pitzer belie!es stylistics is close to philology. "t the beginning of the )4th century the second great orientation in stylistics is closely linked with the name of Farl Aossler. He sets out the idea according to which inno!ation represents the manifestation of the writer0s will and language is the e$pression of the spirit and of freedom, according to Aossler the psychological factor plays a !ery important part in stylistics. *oth *ally and Aossler gi!e a new start in the stylistic research and they represent a new direction in the research of language. 1eo /pitzer, who introduces style both in the field of stylistics and in the field of linguistics, represents the link between the two directions already mentioned. "long the )4th century the orientations and the research in stylistics begin to increase, new ones begin to emerge besides the two basic orientations which dominated the beginning of the )4th century. 1iterary stylistics and linguistic stylistics e!ol!e and e$foliateH linguistic stylistics turns into functional stylistics. ?unctional stylistics starts from Farl *uhler 0s and 2oman Iakobson0s theories regarding the functions of language and its role is to describe and e$plain functional styles as well as indi!idual and collecti!e modalities of using the language according to different conte$ts. "nother important moment in the history of modern stylistics was that represented by The #rague /chool, which was mainly focused on studying the poetic function of language. Its members (*ohumil Trnka, Ailem Bathesius, Iean Bukaro!sky remained in the history of stylistics mainly for their preoccupations for language and poetic language. There also appear tendencies and directions for and against linguistic and literary stylistics.There ha!e been reactions against the limitations imposed by *ally and one of the reactions is that of 3amaso "lonso0s. He does not agree with the fact that stylistics deals with studying the affecti!e element of language. He does not consider stylistics to be a science, in his opinion it rather refers to e$perimenting techni-ues and methods. *ally0s stylistics represents for "lonso an affecti!e grammar. In "lonso0s point of !iew stylistics is rather related with literature, it has less in common with linguistics and more in common with literature, a totally different point of !iew from *ally0s one. "lonso also refers to the differences e$isting between linguistic stylistics, *ally0s stylistics as he calls it and literary stylistics. He recognizes *ally as being the initiator of stylistics and the creator of a totally new discipline, yet he finds many differences in methods and techni-ues between the two stylistics, literary stylistics deals with style and linguistic stylistics deals with affecti!e elements from spoken language. ?orecasting the future of stylistics "lonso shows that it should e$amine two perspecti!es to the same e$tent5 the e$ternal form (the relation signifier= singnificant from signifier to significant and the internal form (the relationship significant= signifier from significant to signifier. "lonso draws up the portrait of the stylistician, in his opinion the stylistician has to follow se!eral stages, at first he should be a passionate reader, then he should turn into a critic. *eing a critic re-uires three types of approaching the linguistic te$t5 the scientific approach, the critical approach and the reader’s approach. "lonso ends his article announcing the difficulties which the stylistician has to o!erpass in analyzing literary works stylistically, and the sole weapon of the stylistician which helps the latter in o!erpassing this difficulty is intuition. In our attempt of presenting the orientations in stylistics, we should not lea!e out /tephen Qllmann. In his practical and didactical paper ,2econstruction of /tylistic Aalues. Qllmann warns the stylistician against the dangers the latter can encounter in the attempt of stylistically analyzing a writer0s work. Qllmann0s starting point is #aul Aalery0s definition of style= >cart, definition also borrowed by other stylisticians5 ,3upT #. Aalery stilul este esenUialmente de!iaUie de la normT, idee VmpTrtTWitT Wi de alUi critici5 #. Guiraud 1a /tylisti-ue.. /tarting from this definition Qllmann considers that a good knowledge of the norm represents an ad!antage in reconstructing and disco!ering the stylistic !alue, this knowledge enables the stylistician to compare the norm, the intentions and the artistic achie!ements of the writer. Qllmann also adds the e!aluation of the !ocabulary, style and elements of grammar as ways of e!aluating the originality of a writer. He also tells us that the task of the stylistician is more difficult when the latter e!aluates the originality of a writer who, temporally and geographically, belongs to a different time than that of the stylistician. The stylistician should ha!e a good knowledge of the period in which the writer li!es and this knowledge should co!er all aspects5 le$ical, morphological, syntactic and phonetic. 1ack of knowledge of these aspects can cause difficulties in the stylistician0s attempt of reconstructing stylistic !alues5 errors of addition and errors of omission. Qllmann analyzes the two types of errors and he refers to the identification of the le!els of language which are the most liable to these types of errors. "s regards !ocabulary inno!ation and the changes which occur within !ocabulary can bring about errors of omission5 ,+uvintele se deplasea-1 2n sus 3i 2n 4os pe scara social1 3i se 2nt5mpl1 adesea ca un termen care ast1-i face parte din vocabularul obi3nuit s1 fi fost considerat nu cu mult timp 2n urm1, drept argotic ori vulgar.. "rchaic terms can harden translators0 and literary critics0 task and they should know !ery well the period in which the te$t was written and the type of conte$t in order to be able to identify them. Qllmann does not theorize on style and stylistics, he does not make di!isions or impose classifications, his research is rather practical in character, it is a guide from which stylisticians to be find out what they should undertake and what they should beware of in order to a!oid these errors. Ge shall glance a brief look at the research books in stylistics published elsewhere and we will stop short at G.G. Turner0s book= /tylistics. The book is di!ided into eight chapters5 1anguage, /tyle and /ituationH The /ounds of 1anguageH /ynta$H Aocabulary, +onte$t, 2egister, ?unctions of 1anguage, Qse of /tylistics and it deals e$hausti!ely with e!ery le!el of language5 phonetic, le$ical, morphological, syntactical as well as stylistic and e$pressi!e particularities which characterize these le!els. "t the beginning of the book we find the definition of the term stylistics, and with this definition the author includes stylistics in the field of linguistics5 ,stylistics is that part of linguistics which concentrates on !ariation in the use of language.. The e$pressi!ity of spoken and written language is also the result of the choice which the writer or speaker makes within language. "t the syntactical le!el word order and especially in!erted word order is the source which generates e$pressi!ity, the factors taken into account in order to obtain this e$pressi!ity are the aim of communication, register, the writer0sLspeaker0s le!el of culture. Thus, the Rnglish journalistic style, especially headlines prefer the concise style, the lack of connectors and pre!alence of certain !erbal tenses, while poetic language is mainly characterized by the /ubject=#redicate in!ersion. The le$ical le!el is characterized by the use of compounds, which can be an important source of e$pressi!ity especially in poetic language. The author illustrates this statement by gi!ing e$amples of nonse words, which are not encountered in daily speech5 #urple=stained, leaden=eyed (Feats= 7de to a <ightingale. +oncise terms are often preferred in scientific language, thus, by means of a short le$ical unit, we can con!ey an idea. #roblems which arise in this situation are linked with the translation of these terms, it can sometimes be !ery difficult to translate them especially when we cannot establish e-ui!alence between the two languages and we ha!e to replace a term with a construction which renders the meaning or with an entire sentence. The le$ical le!el is also subject to the most !arious inno!ations. The phonetic le!el is characterized by the dominance of !ocalic sounds (preferred by the 8&th century writers and of consonantic sounds. The conte$t dictates the e$pressi!e !alues of termsH metaphorical terms are strongly linked with the conte$t, without which they lose their e$pressi!e !alue. "s regards the analysis of style and language, the author analyzes the occurrence and the structure of styles, a characteristic of scientific style being the use of passi!e constructions. Ge are warned against the stylistician0s ability or inability to detect old terms and archaisms, and more than that an o!erall stylistic analysis re-uires a knowledge of the reasons why the writer made this choice in the substance of language. Bichael Toolan0s research in stylistics, ,7n the +entrality of /tylistics. attempts to locate stylistics within the area of language sciences and the author relates stylistics with literary linguistics, te$t linguistics, discourse analysis and corpus linguistics. 3rawing a comparison between the stylistician0s work and the linguist0s work Toolan shows that the linguist is interested in finding resemblances while the stylistician is looking for uni-ueness. Chapter No: 02 MAIN CONCEPTS AND DEFINITIONS FOCUS ON • Stylistics and Linguistics • %ualitati&e Approach • The Scope o Stylistic Study • The Notion o Language and Literary Style • Stylistic Analysis and Literary 'nterpretation • Modern Stylistics • (urpose o Stylistics • )einitions o Style • )einitions o Stylistics • Attempts at *eutation o Style • Style as a Notational Term • Style as a Linguistic +ariation • Style as Choice • Style and Stylistics • Style and the scope o Stylistics • Stylistics and Le&els o Language • Stylistics and modern criticism St(listics 'nd Lin)istics 1et us start by discussing linguistics in literary stylistics. Xuite contrary to common wisdom, linguistics is not always necessary for the analysis of style in language. 1iterary stylistics is thus not the same as linguistic criticism. The position of stylistics in relation to linguistics is best put by <ils Rrik Rnk!ist in his book 1inguistic /tylistics (p. );5 Ge may... regard stylistics as a subdepartment of linguistics, and gi!e it a special subsection dealing with the peculiarities of literary te$ts. Ge may choose to make stylistics a subdepartment of literary study which may on occasion draw on linguistic methods. 7r we may regard stylistics as an autonomous discipline which draws freely, and eclectically, on methods both from linguistics and literary study. *ut as I am sure we will find in analyzing literary te$ts, linguistics is e$tremely useful for the analysis of style in literature, and hence the emphasis on it in these notes and the courses taught in relation to them. *)'lit'ti"e A$$&#'ch "nother preliminary consideration is that we will generally be taking what has been called the -ualitati!e approach in analyzing literary te$ts. The -ualitati!e approach can be contrasted to the -uantitati!e approach. The -uantitati!e approach is reliant on the counting of data, and numerical figures, usually collated by using a statistical approach, are needed. Howe!er, not all data in!ol!ing language or te$ts may be appropriately analyzed by counting. " single occurrence of a linguistic feature, for e$ample, may be more important than ten occurrences of another feature. This is where the -ualitati!e approach comes into the picture. It largely depends on the interpretation of data. "lthough interpretation can be -uite subjecti!e, and hence may !ary from person to person, it cannot be entirely a!oided in linguistic analysis, especially when the systematic analysis of numerical data may be unreliable or e!en misleading. In fact, stylistic analysis, like the analysis of te$ts in literature, may not only be subjecti!e, but it may actually allow full reign to one0s emoti!e response to a literary te$t. Howe!er, -ualitati!e approaches are not completely independent of -uantitati!e approaches and !ice !ersa. /imple counting of data, for e$ample, may at times be useful in a more generally -ualitati!e approach to style. The Sc#$e #+ St(listic St)d( /tylistics is traditionally regarded as a field of study where the methods of selecting and implementing linguistic, e$tra=linguistic or artistic e$pressi!e means and de!ices in the process of communication are studied (e.g. BistrDk, 8@&K. In general, we distinguish linguistic stylistics and literary 6poetic7 stylistics. The di!ision between the two is by no means easy or clear. In his book '(ploring the Language of 0oems, 0lays and 0rose Bick /hort comments on this problem like this5 ,*** stylistics can sometimes look like either linguistics or literary criticism, depending upon where you are standing when looking at it* &o, some of my literary critical colleagues sometimes accuse me of being an unfeeling linguist, saying that my analyses of poems, say, are too analytical, being too full of linguistic 4argon and leaving unsufficient room for personal preference on the part of the reader* .y linguist colleagues, on the other hand, sometimes say that 89m no linguist at all, but a critic in disguise, who cannot make his descriptions of language precise enough to count as real linguistics* They think that 8 leave too much to intuition and that 8 am not analytical enough* 8 think 89ve got the mi( 4ust right, of course:. (/hort, 8@@:, p. 8 Bick /hort is a #rofessor in the 3epartment of 1inguistics and Bodern Rnglish 1anguage at 1ancaster Qni!ersity and a leading authority in the field of stylistics. The abo!e=mentioned book pro!ides a clear and broad ranging introduction to stylistic analysis including a comprehensi!e discussion of the links between linguistics and literary criticism. /hort 0s standpoint is a linguistic one and his analytical methods are perfectly up=to=date. He works e$clusi!ely with literary te$tsH te$ts of poetry, fiction and drama and conse-uently his analyses include a considerable amount of (literary interpretation and discussion of literary issues. In other words, he is interested not only in the (linguistic forms of the analyzed te$ts (i.e. how, but he also studies the meaning (i.e. what of the te$t in the sense of a plot and an o!erall meaningLmessage of a story. ?or our purposes, it is crucial to understand that there are different traditions of stylistic research (e.g. /lo!ak !ersus *ritish and "merican traditions which influence the limits and ambitions of stylistic study as well as the methods used in stylistic analysis. 7f course, modern de!elopments and tendencies towards an interdisciplinary research ha!e to be taken into account. There are many problems that ha!e fascinated scholars working at the interface between language and literature5 Ghat is literatureJ How does literary discourse differ from other discourse typesJ Ghat is styleJ Ghat is the relationship between language, literature and societyJ Githin the last '4 years scholars ha!e introduced !arious approaches, summarised and discussed in detail in the book edited by Iean Iac-ues Geber5 The &tylistics Reader* /rom Roman ;akobson to the present (8@@:. These are mainly5 • formalist stylistics represented by 2oman Iakobson, • functionalist stylistics represented by Bichael Halliday, • affective stylistics introduced by /tanley R. ?ish and Bichael Toolan, • pedagogical stylistics elaborated by H. G. Gidowson, 2onald +arter and #aul /impson. 7ther currents in contemporary stylistics are different types of conte(tuali-ed stylistics, for instance5 • pragmatic stylistics represented by recent works of Bick /hort, Bary 1ouise #ratt and #eter Aerdonk, • critical stylistics represented mainly by 2oger ?owler and 3a!id *irch, • feminist stylistics introduced by 3eirdre *urton and /ara Bills, and • cognitive stylistics represented by 3onald +. ?reeman, 3an /perber, 3eirdre *urton and others. Ge shall discuss some of the most influential approaches later on in this chapter. The N#ti#n #+ L'n)'e 'nd Lite&'&( St(le "ccording to I. BistrDk (8@&K stylistics can be defined as the study of choice and the types of use of linguistic, e$tra=linguistic and aesthetic mean, as well as particular techni-ues used in communication. +onsidering the generally accepted differentiation between linguistic and literary stylistics, I. BistrDk suggests that we carefully distinguish between the language style, belles=lettres and literary style (ibid., p. %45 The language style is a way of speech andLor a kind of utterance which is formed by means of conscious and intentional selection, systematic patterning and implementation of linguistic and e$tra=linguistic means with respect to the topic, situation, function, author0s intention and content of an utterance. The )elles<Letters style (artistic, aesthetic, in /lo!ak umeleck= >t=l is one of the language styles which fulfils, in addition to its general informati!e function, a specific aesthetic function. The Literary &tyle is the style of literary works implemented in all components of a literary work, i.e. on the le!el of language, ideas, plot, etc. "ll these components are subordinated to aesthetic norms. (Thus Literary style is an e$tra=linguistic category while the language and belles<letters styles are language categories. Ge can recognize the style of a literary school, group or generation and also an indi!idual style of an author (i.e. idiolect. This means that on the one hand we can name the so=called indi!idual styles and on the other the inter=indi!idual (functional styles. Traditionally recognized functional styles are5 8. rhetoric (persuasi!e function, ). publicistic (informati!e function ( to announce things and %. scientific (educational function. ?unctional styles can be classified as subjecti!e (collo-uial and aesthetic and objecti!e (administrati!e and scientific. St(listic An'l(sis 'nd Lite&'&( Inte&$&et'ti#n In his work on (/lo!ak stylistics I. BistrDk draws clear boundaries between stylistic analysis and literary interpretation (ibid., p. %85 He defines stylistic or te(t analysis as a procedure which aims at the linguistic means and de!ices of a gi!en te$t, the message, topic and content of analyzed te$ts are not the focus. The method of stylistic analysis can be e-ually applied to the study of language use in literary as well as non=literary te$ts. ?rom this point of !iew literary interpretation is a process which applies e$clusi!ely to literary te$tsH it aims at understanding and interpreting the topic, content and the message of a literary work, its literary -ualities and the so called decoding of the author 0s signals by the recipient. M#de&n St(listics "s it happened, things didn0t -uite turn out in the way 1ecercle en!isaged. /tylistics in the early twenty=Yrst century is !ery much ali!e and well. It is taught and researched in uni!ersity departments of language, literature and linguistics the world o!er. The high academic proYle stylistics enjoys is mirrored in the number of its dedicated book=length publications, research journals, international conferences and symposia, and scholarly associations. ?ar from moribund (declining, modern stylistics is positi!ely Zourishing, witnessed in a proliferation of sub=disciplines where stylistic methods are enriched and enabled by theories of discourse, culture and society. ?or e$ample, feminist stylistics, cogniti!e stylistics and discourse stylistics, to name just three, are established branches of contemporary stylistics which ha!e been sustained by insights from, respecti!ely, feminist theory, cogniti!e psychology and discourse analysis. /tylistics has also become a much !alued method in language teaching and in language learning, and stylistics in this 6pedagogical0 guise, with its close attention to the broad resources of the system of language, enjoys particular pride of place in the linguistic armoury of learners of second languages. Boreo!er, stylistics often forms a core component of many creati!e writing courses, an application not surprising gi!en the discipline0s emphasis on techni-ues of creati!ity and in!ention in language. /o much then for the current 6health0 of stylistics and the prominence it enjoys in modern scholarship. It is now time to say a little more about what e$actly stylistics is and what it is for. &tylistics is a method of te(tual interpretation in which primacy of place is assigned to language. The reason why language is so important to stylisticians is because the !arious forms, patterns and levels that constitute linguistic structure are an important inde$ of the function of the te$t. The te$t0s functional signiYcance as discourse acts in turn as a gateway to its interpretation. Ghile linguistic features do not of themsel!es constitute a te$t0s 6meaning0, an account of linguistic features nonetheless ser!es to ground a stylistic interpretation and to help e$plain why, for the analyst, certain types of meaning are possible. The preferred object of study in stylistics is literature, whether that be institutionally sanctioned 61iterature0 as high art or more popular 6non=canonical0 forms of writing. The traditional connection between stylistics and literature brings with it two important ca!eats, though. The Yrst is that creati!ity and inno!ation in language use should not be seen as the e$clusi!e preser!e of literary writing. Bany forms of discourse (ad!ertising, journalism, popular music ( e!en casual con!ersation often display a high degree of stylistic de$terity, such that it would be wrong to !iew de$terity in language use as e$clusi!e to canonical literature. The second ca!eat is that the techni-ues of stylistic analysis are as much about deri!ing insights about linguistic structure and function as they are about understanding literary te$ts. Thus, the -uestion 6Ghat can stylistics tell us about literatureJ0 is always paralleled by an e-ually important -uestion 6Ghat can stylistics tell us about languageJ0. In spite of its clearly deYned remit (concer, job, methods and object of study, there remain a number of myths about contemporary stylistics. Bost of the time, confusion about the compass of stylistics is a result of confusion about the compass of language. ?or instance, there appears to be a belief in many literary critical circles that a stylistician is simply a dull old grammarian who spends rather too much time on such tri!ial pursuits as counting the nouns and !erbs in literary te$ts. 7nce counted, those nouns and !erbs form the basis of the stylistician0s 6insight0, although this stylistic insight ultimately pro!es no more far=reaching than an insight reached by simply intuiting from the te$t. This is an erroneous perception of the stylistic method and it is one which stems from a limited understanding of how language analysis works. True, nouns and !erbs should not be o!erlooked, nor indeed should 6counting0 when it takes the form of directed and focussed -uantiYcation. *ut the pur!iew of modern language and linguistics is much broader than that and, in response, the methods of stylistics follow suit. It is the full gamut of the system of language that makes all aspects of a writer0s craft rele!ant in stylistic analysis. Boreo!er, stylistics is interested in language as a function of te$ts in conte$t, and it acknowledges that utterances (literary or otherwise are produced in a time, a place, and in a cultural and cogniti!e conte$t. These 6e$tra=linguistic0 parameters are ine$tricably tied up with the way a te$t 6means0. The more complete and conte$t=sensiti!e the description of language is, then the fuller the stylistic analysis that accrues. The purpose of stylistics Ghy should we do stylisticsJ To do stylistics is to e$plore language, and, more specifically, to e$plore creati!ity in language use. 3oing stylistics thereby enriches our ways of thinking about language and, as obser!ed, e$ploring language offers a substantial purchase on our understanding of (literary te$ts. Gith the full array of language models at our disposal, an inherently illuminating method of analytic in-uiry presents itself. This method of in-uiry has an important reZe$i!e capacity insofar as it can shed light on the !ery language system it deri!es fromH it tells us about the 6rules0 of language because it often e$plores te$ts where those rules are bent, distended or stretched to breaking point. Interest in language is always at the fore in contemporary stylistic analysis which is why you should ne!er undertake to do stylistics unless you are interested in language. /ynthesising more formally some of the obser!ations made abo!e, it might be worth thinking of the practice of stylistics as conforming to the following three basic principles, cast mnemonically as three 62s0. The three 2s stipulate that5 • stylistic analysis should be rigorous • stylistic analysis should be retrie!able, and • stylistic analysis should be replicable. To argue that the stylistic method be rigorous means that it should be based on an e$plicit framework of analysis. /tylistic analysis is not the end=product of a disorganized se-uence of ad hoc and impressionistic comments, but is instead underpinned by structured models of language and discourse that e$plain how we process and understand !arious patterns in language. To argue that stylistic method be retrie!able means that the analysis is organized through e$plicit terms and criteria, the meanings of which are agreed upon by other students of stylistics. "lthough precise deYnitions for some aspects of language ha!e pro!ed difficult to pin down e$actly, there is a consensus of agreement about what most terms in stylistics mean. That consensus enables other stylisticians to follow the pathway adopted in an analysis, to test the categories used and to see how the analysis reached its conclusionH to retrie!e, in other words, the stylistic method. To say that a stylistic analysis seeks to be replicable does not mean that we should all try to copy each others0 work. It simply means that the methods should be sufficiently transparent as to allow other stylisticians to !erify them, either by testing them on the same te$t or by applying them beyond that te$t. The conclusions reached are principled if the pathway followed by the analysis is accessible and replicable. To this e$tent, it has become an important a$iom of stylistics that it seeks to distance itself from work that proceeds solely from untested or untestable intuition. De+initi#ns #+ St(le The understanding of the term style influences the characteristics gi!en to /tylistics as one of se!eral linguistic disciplines. The following are the most common characteristics of style as listed by F. Gales in her respected work " 3ictionary of /tylistics (8@@45 "lthough the term style is used !ery fre-uently in Literary +riticism and especially &tylistics, it is !ery difficult to define. There are se!eral broad areas in which it is used5 8 "t its simplest, style refers to the manner of e$pression in writing and speaking, just as there is a manner of doing things, like playing s-uash or painting. Ge might talk of someone writing in an ornate style, or speaking in a comic style. ?or some people style has e!aluati!e connotations5 style can be good or bad. ) 7ne ob!ious implication of (8 is that there are different styles in different situations (e.g. comic !s. turgidH also that the same acti!ity can produce stylistic !ariation (no two people will ha!e the same style in playing s-uash or writing an essay. /o style can be seen as !ariation in language use, whether literary or non=literary. The term register is commonly used for those systemic !ariations in linguistic features common to particular non=literary situations, e.g. ad!ertising, legal language and sports commentary, etc. /tyle may !ary not only from situation to situation but according to medium and degree of formality5 what is sometimes termed style=shifting. 7n a larger scale it may !ary, in literary language, from one genre to another, or from one period to another (e.g. we may talk of the style of "ugustan poetry, etc. /tyle is thus seen against a background of larger or smaller domains or conte$ts. ,- In each case, style is seen as distincti!e5 in essence, the set or sum of linguistic features that seem to be characteristic5 whether of register, genre or period, etc. /tyle is !ery commonly defined in this way, especially at the le!el of te$t5 e.g. the style of Feat0s ?de to a @ightingale, or of Iane "usten0s 'mma. /tylistic features are basically features of language, so style is in one sense synonymous with language (i.e. we can speak e-ually of the language of ?de to a @ightingale. Ghat is implied, howe!er, is that the language is in some way distincti!e, significant for the design of a theme. Ghen applied to the domain of an author, style is the set of features peculiar to, or characteristic of an author5 his or her language habits or idiolect. /o we speak of Biltonic style or Iohnsonese. ' +learly each author draws upon the general stock of the language in any gi!en periodH what makes style distincti!e is the choice of items, and their distribution and patterning. " definition of style in terms of choice is !ery popular, the selection of features partly determined by the demands of genre, form, theme, etc. "ll utterances ha!e a style, e!en when they might seem relati!ely plain or unmarked5 a plain style is itself a style. .- "nother differential approach to style is to compare one set of features with another in terms of a de!iation from a norm, a common approach in the 8@:40s. It would be wrong to imply that style itself is de!iant in the sense of abnormal, e!en though there are marked poetic idiolects. 2ather, we match any te$t or piece of language against the linguistic norms of its genre, or its period, and the common core of the language as a whole. 3ifferent te$ts will re!eal different patterns of dominant or foregrounded features. De+initi#ns #+ St(listics &tylistics is the study of style. /ince style can be !iewed in se!eral ways, so there are se!eral different stylistic approaches. This !ariety in stylistics is due to the main influences of 1inguistics and 1iterary +riticism. /tylistics in the twentieth century replaces and e$pands on the earlier discipline known as rhetoric. ?ollowing the publication of a two=!olume treatise on ?rench stylistics by +h. *ally (8@4@, a pupil of the structuralist, ?. de /aussure, interest in stylistics gradually spread across Rurope !ia the work of 1. /pitzer and others. It was in the 8@:4s that it really began to flourish in *ritain and the Qnited /tates. Traditional literary critics were suspicious of an objecti!e approach to literary te$ts. In many respects, stylistics is close to literary criticism and practical criticism. *y far the most common kind of material studied is literary, and attention is te$t centred. The goal of most stylistic studies is not simply to describe the formal features of te$ts for their own sake, but to show their functional significance for the interpretation of the te$tH or to relate literary effects to linguistic causes where these are felt to be rele!ant. Intuitions and interpretati!e skills are just as important in stylistics and literary criticismH howe!er, stylisticians want to a!oid !ague and impressionistic judgements about the way formal features are manipulated. "s a result, stylistics draws on the models and terminology pro!ided by whiche!er aspects of linguistics are felt to be rele!ant. In the late 8@:4s generati!e grammar was influentialH in the 8@;4s and 8@&4s discourse analysis and pragmatics. /tylistics also draws eclectically on trends in literary theory, or parallel de!elopments in this field. /o the 8@;4s saw a shift away from the reader and his or her responses to the te$t (e.g. affecti!e stylistics, reception theory. /tylistics or general stylistics can be used as a co!er term for the analysis of non= literary !arieties of language, or registers (3. +rystal [ 3. 3a!y in 8nvestigating 'nglish &tyle, 8@:@H B. B. *akhtin in The Dialogic 8magination, 8@&8 and The 0roblem of the Te(t, 8@&:. *ecause of this broad scope stylistics comes close to work done in sociolinguistics. Indeed, there is now a subject sociostylistics which studies, for instance, the language of writers considered as social groups (e.g. the Rlizabethan uni!ersity witsH or fashions in language. The following table offers a summary of the most common definitions of style and the most influential approaches in stylistic studies5 &einitions O Style Approaches in the Study o Stylistics /tyle can be seen as • the manner of e$pression in writing and speaking • from the point of !iew of In the 8@th century 2hetoric was replaced by • 1inguisticLemotionally e$pressi!e stylistics in the 2omance countries (+h. *ally 6language in use0 as a !ariation, i.e. speakers use different styles in different situations, literary !s non= literary (register == systemic !ariations in non=literary situations5 ad!ertising, legal language, sports commentary, etc.. /tyles may !ary also according to medium (spoken, written and degree of formality (termed also style<shifting • the set or sum of linguistic features • a choice of items • deviation from a norm (e.g. marked poetic idiolects, common approach in the 8@:4s • Indi!idualistic, neo=idealistic, psychoanalytical approach in Germany (+roce, Aossler, /pitzer • ?ormalism in 2ussia (8@)4=8@)% • /tructuralism in +zechoslo!akia (The #rague 1inguistic +ircle, 8@):, 3enmark (I. Hjelmsle!, Q/" (R. /apir, 1. *loomfield • The <ew +riticism in Great *ritain (+ambridge Qni!ersity, 2ichards, Rmpson and Q/" (*rooks, *lackmur, Garren. • ?unctionalists5 Generati!e Grammar 8@:4s, 3iscourse "nalysis 8@;4s, #ragmatics and /ocial /emiotics8@&4s • )ritish &tylistics and Linguistic +riticism reached its most influential point at the end of the ;4s. • <ew directions in *ritish /tylistics and its transition to &ocial &emiotics (?owler, 2.5 1iterature as /ocial 3iscourse5 The #ractice of 1inguistic +riticism, 8@&8. • General stylistics (non=literary !arieties • /ociostylistics (close to sociolinguistics Table5 /tyle and /tylistics. Attem$ts 't Re+)t'ti#n #+ St(le 7ur discussion has shown that the notion of style co!ers a large semantic field. In the past, the multiple application of the term caused many disputes about its use. "s <. R. Rnk!ist points out (8@;%, others, mainly scholars with a non=philological background, emphasized the fact that the notion of style is !ague and hard to define. +onse-uently, the opinions on style e$pressed in the )4th century can be presented within three groups. Ghile the first and the second group can be seen as opposite, the third one originated as a reaction to these two. The first group of stylisticians based their classification and analyses of style on a personal and subjecti!e perception of analyzed te$ts. 2egardless of how elegantly they e$pressed their opinions, they were accused of being !ery subjecti!e, impressionistic and !ague in their style e!aluations and their attempts were charged with conceptual looseness. The second group of stylisticians tried to remain on the !ery objecti!e and strictly scientific bases, making use of mathematics, statistics and other as precise as possible technical procedures, when studying the -ualities of te$ts and formulating definitions of style. These authors pro!ided rigorous definitions and statements supported with e$act facts, figures and statistics. They were charged with tortuous pedantry and of using inade-uate 6rough0 methods for the treatment of the 6gentle0 material of (literary te$ts. This strong criticism is e$pressed metaphorically as breaking butterflies on the wheel. The third group is made up of a few scholars from different fields of study who deny the e$istence of style completely. The opinions and theories presented by geologists, chemists and other non=philological scholars on style (in language and literature are -uite e$traordinary. Howe!er, some ideas ha!e been found useful and worth considering. The approach of *enison Gray is a good and typical e$ample. The central -uestion asked by *ennison Gray (8@:@ is Does style e(ist at allJ and his answer is a !igorous negati!e. Gray says that style is something like the emperor0s clothesH e!eryone says it is there but no one can actually see it. He tries to map all possible areas of the use of the term style and refutes one approach after another. It has to be said at the !ery beginning that we do not agree fully with his arguments but still, -uite a few interesting points were highlighted and thus it is worth discussing his approach here. Gray says that, for e$ample, psychologists talk about style as beha!iour. They study human character, personality or indi!iduality and thus they should say so and not identify style with character or personality. /imilarly, rhetoricians identify style with the speaker5 a man0s language has a physiognomic relation to the man himself, but this is just an assumption which has to be pro!ed, says Gray. #hilologists !iew style as 6latent0 but they actually study subject matter. 1iterary critics were also criticized by Gray, they !iew style as 6indi!idual0 but indi!iduality is a matter of language, subject matter, content, theme and referent, etc. 7ther scholars consider style as an 6implicit speaker0. Howe!er, comparing a te$t with an imaginary norm does not in!ol!e any reference to the author0s intentions. ?inally linguists define style as a 6choice0 but in Gray0s opinion, 6choice0 is not a workable concept, we can ne!er know what 6choices0 were a!ailable to a particular author at the time of the creation of a te$t. Gray0s scepticism is bent on reducing terms and concepts to a minimum. Ge can agree with him that it is necessary to define precisely what we mean by style, and still insist that the term is a con!enient abbre!iation (as 6yellow0 is for 6the most luminous primary colour occurring in the spectrum between green and orange0. " solution is offered by the philosophy of science which differentiates between substanti!e and notational terms (Rnk!ist, ibid., pp. 8'=8:5 St(le 's ' N#t'ti#n'l Te&m The definition of style seen as a notational term can be based on a number of principles. The first one is the comple$ity of the relationships between the speakerLwriter and the te$t (the personality and en!ironment of the people who ha!e generated the te$t. The second one is represented by the relationship between the te$t and the listenerLreader (recipient 0s responses, and the third one is the attempt to objectify the approach and to eliminate references to the communicants at either end of the communication process (i.e. description of the te$t, not appeals to personalities. "nother dimension will offer three fundamentally different !iews. In this way, we can define style as a departure from a set of patterns which ha!e been labelled as a norm. In this case stylistic analysis becomes a comparison between features in the te$t whose style we analyze and the te$t that we consider as a norm. /econdly, the style can be seen as an addition of certain stylistic traits to a neutral, styleless e$pression, here the stylistic analysis becomes a stripping process. The third !iew sees style as connotation, whereby each linguistic feature ac-uires its stylistic !alue from the te$tual and situational en!ironment. /tylistic analysis then becomes a study of the relationship between specific linguistic units and their en!ironment. "s we will e$perience later, when working with te$ts, all these approaches should be seen as complementary rather than as contradictory or mutually e$clusi!e. St(le 's ' Lin)istic V'&i'ti#n <. R. Rnk!ist (ibid., pp. 8:=8; describes linguistics as a branch of learning which builds models of te$ts and languages on the basis of theories of language. +onse-uently, he says, linguistic stylistics tries to set up in!entories and descriptions of stylistic stimuli with the aid of linguistic concepts. *y this definition linguists should be interested in all kinds of linguistic !ariation and style is only one of many types. The table below is based on the rele!ant passage from the abo!e -uoted Rnk!ist0s book on Linguistic &tylistics and presents the classification of linguistic !ariations according their correlation towards conte$t, situation and others5 &tyle • correlates with conte$t and situation • is an indi!idual !ariation within each register Temporal • correlates with a gi!en period Regional • correlates with areas on a map &ocial Dialect • correlates with the social class of its users • also called sociolect Register • correlates with situations • different subtypes of language that people use in different social roles (e.g. doctor0s register is different from the teacher0s, etc. Table5 Types of Linguistic %ariation* St(le 's Ch#ice Buch of our e!eryday e$perience is shaped and deYned by actions and e!ents, thoughts and perceptions, and it is an important function of the system of language that it is able to account for these !arious 6goings on0 in the world. This means encoding into the grammar of the clause a mechanism for capturing what we say, think and do. It also means accommodating in grammar a host of more abstract relations, such as those that pertain between objects, circumstances and logical concepts. Ghen language is used to represent the goings on of the physical or abstract world in this way, to represent patterns of e$perience in spoken and written te$ts, it fulYls the e$periential function. The e$periential function is an important marker of style, especially so of the style of narrati!e discourse, because it emphasizes the concept of style as choice. There are many ways of accounting in language for the !arious e!ents that constitute our 6mental picture of reality0 (Halliday 8@@'5 84:H indeed, there are often se!eral ways of using the resources of the language system to capture the same e!ent in a te$tual representation. Ghat is of interest to stylisticians is why one type of structure should be preferred to another, or why, from possibly se!eral ways of representing the same 6happening0, one particular type of depiction should be pri!ileged o!er another. +hoices in style are moti!ated, e!en if unconsciously, and these choices ha!e a profound impact on the way te$ts are structured and interpreted. The particular grammatical facility used for capturing e$perience in language is the system of transiti!ity. In the present account, the concept of 6transiti!ity0 is used in an e$panded semantic sense, much more so than in traditional grammars where it simply ser!es to identify !erbs which take direct objects. Transiti!ity here refers to the way meanings are encoded in the clause and to the way different types of process are represented in language. Transiti!ity normally picks out three key components of processes. The Yrst is the process itself, which is typically realized in grammar by the !erb phrase. The second is the participant(s associated with the process, typically realized by noun phrases. #erhaps less importantly for stylistic analysis, transiti!ity also picks out the circumstances associated with the process. This third element is typically e$pressed by prepositional and ad!erb phrases which Yll up the "djunct element in clause structure. 1inguists working with this functional model of transiti!ity are di!ided about how e$actly to 6car!e up0 the e$periential function. How many sorts of e$perience, for e$ample, should the system distinguishJ How easy is it to place discrete boundaries around certain types of human e$periences when those e$periences tend to o!erlap or shade into one anotherJ In the brief account of transiti!ity that follows, si$ types of process are identiYed, although the di!isions between these processes will always be more pro!isional than absolute. Baterial processes, the Yrst of the si$, are simply processes of doing. "ssociated with material processes are two inherent participant roles which are the "ctor, an obligatory role in the process, and a Goal, a role which may or may not be in!ol!ed in the process. The following two e$amples of material processes follow the standard notation con!entions which place the te$tual e$ample abo!e its indi!idual transiti!ity roles5 (8 I nipped 3aniel. "ctor #rocess Goal () The washing machine broke down. "ctor #rocess .ental processes constitute the second key process of the transiti!ity system and are essentially processes of sensing. Qnlike material processes which ha!e their pro!enance in the physical world, mental processes inhabit and reZect the world of consciousness, and in!ol!e cognition (encoded in !erbs such as 6thinking0 or 6wondering0, reaction (as in 6liking0 or 6hating0 and perception (as in 6seeing0 or 6hearing0. The two participant roles associated with mental processes are the /ensor (the conscious being that is doing the sensing and the #henomenon (the entity which is sensed, felt, thought or seen. Here are illustrations of the three main types of mental process5 (% Bary understood the story. (cognition /ensor #rocess #henomenon (' "neela noticed the damp patch. (perception /ensor #rocess #henomenon (K /han detests pat>. (reaction /ensor #rocess #henomenon The roles of /ensor and #henomenon relate e$clusi!ely to mental processes. This distinction is necessary because the entity 6sensed0 in a mental process is not directly affected by the process, and this makes it of a somewhat different order to the role of Goal in a material process. It is also an important feature of the semantic basis of the transiti!ity system that the participant roles remain constant under certain types of grammatical operation. R$ample (K, for instance, might be rephrased as 6#at> disgusts /han0, yet 6/han0 still remains the /ensor and 6#at>0 the #henomenon. " useful check which often helps distinguish material and mental processes is to test which sort of present tense best suits the particular e$ample under analysis. The 6natural0 present tense for mental processes is the simple present, so the transformation of the past tense of e$ample (% would result in 6Bary understands the story0. *y contrast, material processes normally gra!itate towards the present continuous tense, as in the transposition of () to 6The washing machine is breaking down0. Ghen transposed to the present continuous, howe!er, mental processes often sound odd5 6/han is detesting pat>0, 6"neela is noticing the damp patch0 and so on. There is a type of process which to some e$tent sits at the interface between material and mental processes, a process which represents both the acti!ities of 6sensing0 and 6doing0. *eha!ioural processes embody physiological actions like 6breathe0 or 6cough0, although they sometimes portray these processes as states of consciousness as in 6sigh0, 6cry0 or 6laugh0. They also represent processes of consciousness as forms of beha!iour, as in 6stare0, 6dream0 or 6worry0. The key (and normally sole participant in beha!ioural processes is the *eha!er, the conscious entity who is 6beha!ing05 (: That student fell asleep in my lecture again. *eha!er #rocess +ircumstance (; /he frowned at the mess. *eha!er #rocess +ircumstances The role of *eha!er is !ery much like that of a /ensor, although the beha!ioural process itself is grammatically more akin to a material process. Thus, while both e$amples abo!e display many of the characteristics of mental processes, our 6tense0 test satisYes the criteria for material processes5 6That student is falling asleep . . .0H 6/he is frowning . . .0. +lose in sense to mental processes, insofar as they articulate conscious thought, are processes of !erbalization.These are processes of 6saying0 and the participant roles associated with !erbalization are the /ayer (the producer of the speech, the 2ecei!er (the entity to which the speech is addressed and the Aerbiage (that which gets said. Thus5 (& Bary claimed that the story had been changed. /ayer #rocess Aerbiage (@ The minister announced the decision to parliament. /ayer #rocess Aerbiage 2ecei!er <otice how the Aerbiage participant, which, incidentally, is not a term used in any derogatory sense, can co!er either the 6content0 of what was said (as in & or the 6name0, in speech act terms, of what was said (as in @. It is also important to note that the process of saying needs to be interpreted rather broadly, so that e!en an inanimate /ayer can be accommodated5 6The notice said be -uiet0. <ow to an important and decepti!ely comple$ category5 relational processes. These are processes of 6being0 in the speciYc sense of establishing relationships between two entities. 2elational processes can be e$pressed in a number of ways, and not all of the numerous classiYcations which present themsel!es can be accommodated here. There is howe!er general agreement about three main types of relational process. "n intensi!e relational process posits a relationship of e-ui!alence, an 6$ isy0 connection, between two entities, as in5 6#aula0s presentation was li!ely0 or 6Ioyce is the best Irish writer0. " possessi!e relational process plots an 6$ has y0 type of connection between two entities, as in 6#eter has a piano0 or 6The "lpha 2omeo is +lara0s0. Thirdly, circumstantial relational processes are where the circumstantial element becomes upgraded, as it were, so that it fulYls the role of a full participant in the process. The relationship engendered is a broad 6$ is atLis inLis onLis withL y0 conYguration, realized in constructions like 6The f\te is on all day0, 6The maid was in the parlour0 or 6The forces of darkness are against you0. This seemingly straightforward three=way classiYcation is rather complicated by the fact that it intersects with another distinction between attributi!e and identifying relational processes. This means that each of the three types come in two modes, yielding si$ categories in total. The grid shown in Table below will help summarize this classification. Table5 2elational processes grid Type Bode attributi!e Identifying Intensi!e #aula0s presentation was li!ely The best Irish writer is Ioyce Ioyce is the best Irish writer #ossessi!e #eter has a piano The "lpha 2omeo is +lara0s +lara0s is the "lpha 2omeo +ircumstantial The f\te is on all day The maid is in the parlour In the parlour is the maid In the attributi!e mode, the entity, person or concept being described is referred to as the +arrier, while the role of "ttribute refers to the -uality ascribed to that +arrier. The "ttribute therefore says what the +arrier is, what the +arrier is like, where the +arrier is, what it owns and so on. In the identifying mode, one role is identiYed through reference to another such that the two hal!es of the clause often refer to the same thing. This means that unlike attributi!e processes, all identifying processes are re!ersible, as the grid abo!e shows. In terms of their participant roles, one entity (the IdentiYer picks out and deYnes the other (the IdentiYed. Thus, in the pattern5 (84 Ioyce is the best Irish writer IdentiYed #rocess IdentiYer the se-uence 6the best Irish writer0 functions to identify 6Ioyce0 as the key representati!e of a particular class of indi!iduals. The alternati!e pattern, 6The best Irish writer is Ioyce0, simply re!erses the se-uence of these two participant roles. '(istential processes constitute the si$th and last category of the transiti!ity model. +lose in sense to relational processes, these processes basically assert that something e$ists or happens. R$istential processes typically include the word 6there0 as a dummy subject, as in 6There was an assault0 or 6Has there been a phone callJ0, and they normally only contain one participant role, the 6R$istent0, realised respecti!ely in these e$amples by 6an assault0 and 6a phone call0. In another sense, the e$istential process leads us right back to the material process, the category with which we began this re!iew of the system of transiti!ity. /igniYcantly, both types of process can often accommodate a -uestion like 6what happenedJ0, the response to which results in two possible conYgurations. Thus, both 6O assaulted ]0 and 6There was an assault0 would offer a choice of responses to this hypothetical -uestion. Howe!er, what happens in the e$istential !ersion is that no role other than R$istent is speciYed, and that role, moreo!er, is Ylled by anominalized element which is created by con!erting a !erbal process into a noun. It is worth reemphasizing this idea of 6style as choice0 in transiti!ity, and in this respect consider an anecdotal e$ample. Ghen -uestioned about some rowdiness that 'aterial (doing) (6I nipped 3aniel0 E%istential (e$isting *eha+ioural (beha!ing (6There was a nip0 (she frowned at the mess0 Relational (being 'ental (sensing (6The best Irish wrioter is Ioice0 (6/han detests pat>0 ,erbalisation (saying (6The minister announced the decision0 resulted in a slight injury to his younger brother, my (then Y!e year old son replied5 6There was a nip0. This is an interesting e$periential strategy because it satisYes the -uestion 6what happened0 while simultaneously a!oiding any material process that would support an e$plicit "ctor role. It manages in other words to sidestep precisely the conYguration displayed in e$ample (8 abo!e, 6I nipped 3aniel0, where the role of "ctor is conZated with the speaker. "nother strategy might ha!e been to create a passi!e, as opposed to acti!e, construction, wherein the Goal element is brought into /ubject position and the "ctor element remo!ed from the clause entirely (63aniel was nipped0. Howe!er, because the passi!e still supports the -uestion 6by whomJ0, this conYguration retains a degree of implicit agency. The general point is that transiti!ity offers systematic choice, and any particular te$tual conYguration is only one, perhaps strategically moti!ated, option from a pool of possible te$tual conYgurations. The core processes of transiti!ity, arranged so as to capture their interrelationship to one another, are summarized in ?igure abo!e. The transiti!ity model has pro!ed an important methodological tool in stylistics and in more general in!estigations of te$t. The remainder of this strand sur!eys some de!elopments in this area and goes on to e$amine patterns of transiti!ity in a !ariety of te$ts. The thread concludes with a reading by 3eirdre *urton which applies the model to a passage from /yl!ia #lath0s no!el The )ell ;ar. St(le 'nd st(listics #hysical e$istence Gorld of abstract consciousness relations /tyle is concerned with the artful e$pression of idea and stylistics is the bridge that links the idea of style to the analysis of literary te$ts through the tool of linguistics. The 8@th century, that witnessed e!olution in the field of biography, historiography, anthropology and others, could not remain unattached to immutable linguistic and stylistic norms in literature. 1inguistic study was esoteric in the beginning and se!erely criticized as, ,pretension of scientific accuracy, obsession with an e$tensi!eH cumbersome and recondite (obscure terminologyH display of analytic techni-uesH scorn of all that is subjecti!e, impressionistic, mentalistic.. (?owler 8 *ut the struggling efforts and re!ision of opinions made it possible for linguists to make their study acceptable e!en by literary critics. 1inguistics ga!e birth to another branch named stylistics. ?or stylistic interpretation, a stylist !iews the whole te$t as a unit, not as a string of sentences, while a linguist0s concern is to make out the link between the sentences. The major difference between linguistic and stylistic study is that ,whereas the ma$imum unit in linguistics is the sentence, larger unit, the te$t, ser!es as the basis of stylistic analysis .. (?owler 8; The concept of style belongs to the !ery beginning of literary thought in Rurope. "bout style "brams opines5 /tyle is the linguistic e$pression in prose or !erse ( it is how speakers or writers say whate!er it is that they say. The style of a particular work or writer has been analyzed in the terms of the characteristic modes of its diction, or choices of words, its sentence structure and synta$H the density and types of its figurati!e languageH the patterns of its rhythm, component sounds, and other formal featuresH and its rhetorical claims and de!ices. ()4% " stylistician studies the style and method that an author uses in his artistic creation. It applies the amplification of linguistics to approach literary te$ts ( to identify the choices and ways a writer uses in wea!ing a te$t. He further says about stylistics, ,/ince the 8@K40s the term stylistics has been applied to critical procedures which undertake to replace subjecti!ity and impressionism of standard criticism with an objecti!e or scientific analysis of the style of literary te$ts.. ()&% "nother critic Fatie Gales asserts that ,stylisticians want to a!oid !ague and impressionistic judgement about the way formal features are manipulated. "s a result, stylistics draws on the models and terminology pro!ided by whate!er aspects of linguistics are felt to be rele!ant.. ('K) /tyle can be classified on different le!els namely5 • /tyle as personal idiosyncrasy • /tyle as a techni-ue of e$position • /tyle as a highest achie!ement of literature /tylistic de!ices are basically the ingredients of language which is referred as synonym of style. Rach writer has a peculiar way of using le$is and synta$. This peculiarity of applying language is called idiolect that is why we ha!e Biltonic style or style of +oleridge. ?or e$ample5 6Br. Gilliam could not mistake the style in his article0. Here, in this sentence, style displays the idiosyncrasy of e$pression that distinct him from any other writer. He has his own obser!ation that de!elops in his thoughts and finally turns into the shape of words chosen by him. /tyle is e$posed as a manner of e$pression in writing and speaking e.g. 6Br. Gilliam has interesting ideas but he must mature his writing skill, at present he has no style0. This style is the -uality of lucid e$position of the se-uence of ideas at intellectual le!el. Ghether the style of an artistic piece is comic, tragic or ornamented is decided by this le!el. Thirdly, 6Br. Gilliam0s article is bombastic and farcical but one fact o!erweights this ( he has style0. Here style is a complete fusion of personal and uni!ersal that touches the peak of literature. /tyle may be referred as a departure from the set patterns of norms or as an addition of stylistic de!ices to neutral e$pression or as connotation where te$tual and situational atmosphere pro!ide a linguistic feature its stylistic !alue. There are no strict rules for writing. R!ery time a person sits to write, he faces different words and synta$ clicking his mind e!en on the same subject. /tyle may change from situation to situation to be referred as register which marks the difference between language of ad!ertisement and that of literature. /tyle may !ary on the basis of degree of formality. "n officer uses elegant and respecti!e language to his seniors and gossiping !erbal e$pressions to his colleagues. /tyle can also differ on the basis of genre ( category of artistic work. 1iterary genre co!ers the range of biographies, poetry, fiction, drama, short stories, history writing and so on. ?or e$ample history writing is based on the clues of past and historian has to be !ery careful in using le$is and synta$. The use of wrong le$is or synta$ may lead to the misunderstanding of a historical fact. His hands are bind up with the facts of past. Ghile writing a poem, a poet may ha!e the wings of imagination and can present the metaphysical world. Qnlike a historian, he has the liberty to play with words and sentence structures. "n incomplete and wrong structure is counted as a fault of a historian0s style but the same de!ice becomes the style of a poet. In short, while style is the mirror of a writer0s talent and the way he can present his thought including dignity, clarity, ornateness and much more, stylistics is the study of !arieties of language and efforts to de!elop principles capable of de!eloping particular choices made by indi!iduals and social groups in their employment of language. St(le 'nd the Sc#$e #+ St(listics The concept of style has a wide currency since it is applied to !arious spheres of human acti!ity characteristic of an indi!idual (to ha!e a personal style, a distinct personality (the style of Hemingway, periods (the baro-ue style, indi!idual tone adopted in con!ersation (a patronizing style, mode of tradition (to li!e in style, li!ing, fashion, etc. Generally speaking, possibilities of selection from in!entories of largely 6synonymous0 choices enable particular ways (i.e., 6styles0 of their arrangement. In !erbal communication, these in!entories are represented not only by the systems of linguistic (!iz. phonological, morphological, le$ical and syntactic, i.e., the 6classical0 in!entory of microstylistics, paralinguistic (!iz. graphological and suprasegmental features, including paralanguage and non=linguistic choices (e.g., background music, the -uality of printing paper, but also by thematic, te$tual (macrostylistic, e.g., cohesion and macro=compositional (e.g., genre features, including types of speech act, the type of code, etc. Their rele!ance for the stylistic en-uiry lies in their significance (or, more accurately, in their appropriateness in relation to the intended function of discourse (the sense of stylistic appropriateness or suitability can be seen as a part of communicati!e competence, cf. 2ichards et al., 8@&K. /tyle as a situationally distincti!e use of language (+rystal 8@&; then can be seen as an agent integrating all 6style=making0 (pragmatic means and acting as a unifying principle of te$t construction which per!ades all te$tual le!els and which performs, besides this integrating function, also aesthetic, semantic and characterizing functions (cf. Hausenblas 8@&;, Bacuro!C 8@@%, ^ermCk )448, Aachek 8@;'. The majority of approaches to style agree upon the central concepts of selection and composition (or, using the +lassical rhetoric terms, elocutio and dispositio as being present in e!ery communicati!e beha!iour. Howe!er, the scope and the nature of resources (i.e., paradigmatic choices and their arrangement (i.e., syntagmatic choices ha!e been the matter of many discussions. Rarlier approaches saw style as a result of something being added to or of something de!iating from an ordinary use of language (also called foregrounding, e.g., the use of figures of speech, tropes, archaisms as means of ornamentation, or as a result of an indi!idual will (the indi!idualist theoryH some approaches e!en abolished the concept of style altogether (the organic theory (cf. *arnouw et al. 8@&@. The rise and the de!elopment of linguistics impressionism ga!e way to positi!ist approaches which adopted methods of linguistics and other sciences, e.g., statistics for the purpose of authorship identification (stylostatistics, forensic linguistics, -uantitati!e stylistics, computer science (corpora=based stylistics, etc. In the Rnglish=speaking world, stylistics has mostly been associated with analyses of literary works (literary stylistics and has been close to literary theory and criticism (cf. Giddowson 8@@), Hoffmanno!C 8@@%, Bi__Dko!C 8@@@, or with approaches differentiating 6good0 from 6bad0 style (e!aluati!e stylistics and offering instructions on 6clear, elegant, effecti!e and sophisticated0 use of (esp. written language (e.g., Bacpherson 8@@;H note also the e$istence of !arious style sheets, stylebooks and manuals of style, as well as of writing courses and writing centres at "merican uni!ersities, cf. Fnoblauch and *rannon 8@&', Harris 8@&:. In the most recent decades, stylistic e$plorations ha!e been de!eloping in the framework of functional linguistics and sociolinguistics (sociostylistics, linguistic pragmatics (pragmatic stylistics, discourse analysis (discourse stylistics, critical discourse analysis (radical stylistics, cogniti!e science (cogniti!e stylistics, processing stylistics, etc. (cf. Hoffmanno!C 8@@%. The !ery nature of style and the problem of its definition and characterization has stirred much discussion and uncertaintyH in fact, this situation parallels a similar problem of offering all=embracing and uni!ersally accepted definitions of other basic linguistic units (e.g., word or sentence. ?rom among se!eral hundred e$isting definitions of style we may adduce here only a few. /tyle is seen as ,any particular and somewhat distincti!e way of using language. (Trask 8@@;5)84, ,a system of interrelated language means which ser!es a definite aim in communication. (Ga`perin 8@;;5%%, ,proje! moanosti !ariace ! komunikaci. (^ermCk )4485':, ,typo!N n. indi!iduClnD zpbsob organizace te$tu a !olby le$>mb a gramatickNch prostMedkb z alternati!nDch, pMede!_Dm _iroce synonymnDch, resp. ek!i!alentnDch. (^ermCk )4485)&:, ,indi!idual, unifying character found to be present in any work resulting from intentional acti!ity. (A. Bathesius, cited in Aachek 8@;'588', ,spcsob preja!u, ktorN !znikC cie`a!edomNm !Nberom, zCkonitNm usporiadanDm a !yuaitDm jazyko!Nch a mimojazyko!Nch prostriedko! so zrete`om na tematiku, situCciu, funkciu, autoro! zCmer a na obsaho!> zloaky preja!u. (BistrDk 8@@;5%4. The width of the definition of style delimits the area of operation of stylistics justifying thus its raison dd\tre in relation to other competing approaches (esp. te$t linguistics and pragmatics. In a narrower sense, style can be seen as a conscious or unconscious selection from e$isting optional language features (linguostylisticsH obligatory structures of language, such as most of the segmental phonology, the mutation plural, the fi$ed se-uence of au$iliary !erbs within comple$ !erb phrases, offer, howe!er, few or no stylistic options at all. It has been suggested that stylistics, employing the concepts and procedures of linguistics in studying the language of (esp. non=literary te$ts, may form a separate linguistic stratum with a basic unit of styleme. /tylistics, howe!er, parallels the basic strata in that it draws on their resourcesH in fact, almost all e$pressi!e means of indi!idual linguistic planes can potentially become stylemes. In the wider understanding of the scope of stylistics, which counts on the function of style as an integrator of elements functioning at e!ery le!el of te$t structure, stylistics touches upon !arious other approaches concerned with particular aspects of te$t. The following subchapters present an o!er!iew of those areas of research and attempt to pinpoint their rele!ance for stylistics, while focusing primarily on the linguistic stylistic resources as these are of main interest for a student of style with a philological background. /ince any use of language is an act of communication, we consider it necessary to begin with the theory of !erbal communication. This procedure also corresponds with the functional approach to the in!estigation of style (i.e., the structure of te$t is moti!ated by the function it is to perform, cf. 3olnDk and *ajzDko!C 8@@& which we are trying to implement here. St(listics 'nd Le"els #+ L'n)'e In !iew of the comments made earlier on the methodological signiYcance of the three 2s, it is worth establishing here some of the more basic categories, le!els and units of analysis in language that can help organize and shape a stylistic analysis. 1anguage in its broadest conceptualisation is not a disorganised mass of sounds and symbols, but is instead an intricate web of le!els, layers and links. Thus, any utterance or piece of te$t is organized through se!eral distinct le!els of language. Levels of languageA To start us off, here is a list of the major le!els of language and their related technical terms in language study, along with a brief description of what each le!el co!ers5 1e!el of language *ranch of language study The sound of spoken languageH the way words are pronounced. The patterns of written languageH the shape of language on the page. The way words are constructedH words and their constituent structures. The way words combine with other words to form phrases and sentences. The words we useH the !ocabulary of a language. The meaning of words and sentences. The way words and sentences are used in e!eryday situationsH the meaning of language in conte$t. phonologyH phonetics graphology morphology synta$H grammar le$ical analysisH le$icology semantics pragmaticsH discourse analysis These basic le!els of language can be identiYed and teased out in the stylistic analysis of te$t, which in turn makes the analysis itself more organized and principled, more in keeping so to speak with the principle of the three 2s. Howe!er, what is absolutely central to our understanding of language (and style is that these le!els are inter=connected5 they interpenetrate and depend upon one another, and they represent multiple and simultaneous linguistic operations in the planning and production of an utterance. +onsider in this respect an unassuming (hypothetical sentence like the following5 (8That puppy0s knocking o!er those potplantse In spite of its seeming simplicity of structure, this thoroughly innocuous sentence re-uires for its production and deli!ery the assembly of a comple$ array of linguistic components. ?irst, there is the palpable physical substance of the utterance which, when written, comprises graphetic substance or, when spoken, phonetic substance. These basic le!els of language can be identiYed and teased out in the stylistic analysis of te$t, which in turn makes the analysis itself more organized and principled, more in keeping so to speak with the principle of the three 2s. Howe!er, what is absolutely central to our understanding of language (and style is that these le!els are inter=connected5 they interpenetrate and depend upon one another, and they represent multiple and simultaneous linguistic operations in the planning and production of an utterance. +onsider in this respect an unassuming (hypothetical sentence like the following5 This 6raw0 matter then becomes organized into linguistic structure proper, opening up the le!el of graphology, which accommodates the systematic meanings encoded in the written medium of language, and phonology, which encompasses the meaning potential of the sounds of spoken language. In terms of graphology, this particular sentence is written in the 2oman alphabet, and in a 84 point emboldened 6palatino0 font. Howe!er, as if to echo its counterpart in speech, the sentence Ynal e$clamation mark suggests an emphatic style of !ocal deli!ery. In that spoken counterpart, systematic differences in sound sort out the meanings of the words used5 thus, the word=initial LnL sound at the start of 6knocking0 will ser!e to distinguish it from, say, words like 6rocking0 or 6mocking0. To that e$tent, the phoneme LnL e$presses a meaningful difference in sound. The word 6knocking0 also raises an issue in le$icology5 notice for instance how contemporary Rnglish pronunciation no longer accommodates the two word=initial graphemes fkg and fng that appear in the spelling of this word. The fkng se-uence ( originally spelt fcng ( has become a single LnL pronunciation, along with e-ui!alent occurrences in other "nglo=/a$on deri!ed le$is in modern Rnglish like 6know0 and 6knee0. The double consonant pronunciation is howe!er still retained in the !ocabulary of cognate languages like modern 3utchH as in 6knie0 (meaning 6knee0 or 6knoop0 (meaning 6knot0. "part from these Y$ed features of pronunciation, there is potential for signiYcant !ariation in much of the phonetic detail of the spoken !ersion of e$ample (8. ?or instance, many speakers of Rnglish will not sound in connected speech the 6t0s of both That and potplants, but will instead use 6glottal stops0 in these positions. This is largely a conse-uence of the phonetic en!ironment in which the 6t0 occurs5 in both cases it is followed by a LpL consonant and this has the effect of inducing a change, known as a 6secondary articulation0, in the way the 6t0 is sounded (*all and 2ahilly 8@@@5 8%4. Ghereas this secondary articulation is not necessarily so conditioned, the social or regional origins of a speaker may affect other aspects of the spoken utterance. " major regional difference in accent will be heard in the realization of the historic frg ( a feature so named because it was once, as its retention in the modern spelling of a word like 6o!er0 suggests, common to all accents of Rnglish. Ghereas this LrL is still present in Irish and in most "merican pronunciations, it has largely disappeared in "ustralian and in most Rnglish accents. ?inally, the articulation of the 6ing0 se-uence at the end of the word 6knocking0 may also !ary, with an 6in0 sound indicating a perhaps lower status accent or an informal style of deli!ery. The sentence also contains words that are made up from smaller grammatical constituents known as morphemes. +ertain of these morphemes, the 6root0 morphemes, can stand as indi!idual words in their own right, whereas others, such as preY$es and sufY$es, depend for their meaning on being conjoined or bound to other items. Thus, 6potplants0 has three constituents5 two root morphemes (6pot0 and 6plant0 and a sufY$ (the plural morpheme 6s0, making the word a three morpheme cluster. Bo!ing up from morphology takes us into the domain of language organization known as the grammar, or more appropriately perhaps, gi!en that both le$is and word=structure are normally included in such a description, the le$ico=grammar. Grammar is organized hierarchically according to the size of the units it contains, and most accounts of grammar would recognize the sentence as the largest unit, with the clause, phrase, word and morpheme following as progressi!ely smaller units. Buch could be said of the grammar of this sentence5 it is a single 6clause0 in the indicati!e declarati!e mood. It has a /ubject (6That puppy0, a #redicator (0s knocking o!er0 and a +omplement (6those potplants0. Rach of these clause constituents is realized by a phrase which itself has structure. ?or instance, the !erb phrase which e$presses the #redicator has a three part structure, containing a contracted au$iliary 6hiis0, a main !erb 6knocking0 and a preposition 6o!er0 which operates as a special kind of e$tension to the main !erb. This e$tension makes the !erb a phrasal !erb, one test for which is being able to mo!e the e$tension particle along the sentence to a position beyond the +omplement (6That puppy0s knocking those potplants o!ere0. " semantic analysis is concerned with meaning and will be interested, amongst other things, in those elements of language which gi!e the sentence a 6truth !alue0. " truth !alue speciYes the conditions under which a particular sentence may be regarded as true or false. ?or instance, in this (admittedly hypothetical sentence, the le$ical item 6puppy0 commits the speaker to the fact that a certain type of entity (namely, a young canine animal is responsible for the action carried out. 7ther terms, such as the superordinate items 6dog0 or e!en 6animal0, would still be compatible in part with the truth conditions of the sentence. That is not to say that the use of a more generalized word like, say, 6animal0 will ha!e e$actly the same repercussions for the utterance as discourse (see further below. In spite of its semantic compatibility, this less speciYc term would implicate in many conte$ts a rather negati!e e!aluation by the speaker of the entity referred to. This type of implication is pragmatic rather than semantic because it is more about the meaning of language in conte$t than about the meaning of language per se. 2eturning to the semantic component of e$ample (8, the demonstrati!e words That and those e$press physical orientation in language by pointing to where the speaker is situated relati!e to other entities speciYed in the sentence. This orientational function of language is known as dei$is. In this instance, the demonstrati!es suggest that the speaker is positioned some distance away from the referents 6puppy0 and 6potplants0. The deictic relationship is therefore 6distal0, whereas the parallel demonstrati!es This and these would imply a 6pro$imal0 relationship to the referents. "bo!e the core le!els of language is situated discourse. This is a much more open= ended term used to encompass aspects of communication that lie beyond the organization of sentences. 3iscourse is conte$t=sensiti!e and its domain of reference includes pragmatic, ideological, social and cogniti!e elements in te$t processing. That means that an analysis of discourse e$plores meanings which are not retrie!able solely through the linguistic analysis of the le!els sur!eyed thus far. In fact, what a sentence 6means0 in strictly semantic terms is not necessarily a guarantor of the kind of job it will do as an utterance in discourse. The raw semantic information transmitted by sentence (8, for instance, may only partially e$plain its discourse function in a speciYc conte$t of use. To this effect, imagine that (8 is uttered by a speaker in the course of a two=party interaction in the li!ing room of a dog=owning, potplant= owning addressee. Githout seeking to detail the rather comple$ inferencing strategies in!ol!ed, the utterance in this conte$t is unlikely to be interpreted as a disconnected remark about the unruly puppy0s beha!iour or as a remark which re-uires simply a !erbal acknowledgment. 2ather, it will be understood as a call to action on the part of the addressee. Indeed, it is perhaps the !ery ob!iousness in the conte$t of what the puppy is doing !is=j=!is the content of the utterance that would prompt the addressee to look beyond what the speaker 6literally0 says. The speaker, who, remember, is positioned deictically further away from the referents, may also feel that this discourse strategy is appropriate for a better=placed interlocutor to make the re-uired timely inter!ention. ]et the same discourse conte$t can produce any of a number of other strategies. " less forthright speaker might employ a more tentati!e gambit, through something like 6/orry, but I think you might want to keep an eye on that puppy . . .0. Here, indirection ser!es a politeness function, although indirection of itself is not always the best policy in urgent situations where politeness considerations can be o!er=ridden. "nd no doubt e!en further conYgurations of participant roles might be drawn up to e$plore what other discourse strategies can be pressed into ser!ice in this interacti!e conte$t. St(listics 'nd M#de&n C&iticism Two groups of critics ha!e had a major influence on the identity and direction of twentieth=century Rnglish studies5 the 2ussian and central Ruropean ?ormalists and the more disparate collection of *ritish and "merican teachers and writers whose academic careers began during the 8@)4s and 8@%4s. The term <ew +riticism is often applied to the latter group. The objecti!es of the majority of indi!iduals in each group were the same5 to define literature as a discourse and, art form and to establish its function as something that can be properly studied. Qntil the late 8@K4s the work of these groups remained within mutually e$clusi!e geographical and academic conte$ts5 the <ew +ritics in *ritain and "merica and the ?ormalists in Rurope. 3uring the 8@:4s <ew +riticism and ?ormalism began to recognize similarities and o!erlaps in their goals and methods. /ince the 8@:4s their academic predominance has been unsettled by a much broader network of interdisciplinary practices5 structuralism, poststructuralism, feminism and new historicism, are all significant elements of contemporary literary studies, and each draws its methodologies and e$pectations from intellectual fields beyond the traditional, enclosed realms of rhetoric and aesthetics. This, we concede, is a simplified history of twentieth century criticism, but it pro!ides us with a framework for an understanding of how rhetoric has been !ariously transformed into modern stylistics. The <ew +ritics and the ?ormalists are the most ob!ious inheritors of the disciplines of rhetoric, in the sense that they ha!e maintained a belief in the empirical difference between literature and other types of language and ha!e attempted to specify this difference in terms of style and effect. /tructuralism at once e$tended and -uestioned these practices by concentrating on the similarities, rather than the differences, between literature and other discourses. #oststructuralism took this a stage further by introducing the reader into the relation between literary and non=literary style, and posing the -uestion of whether the e$pectations of the percei!er can determine, rather than simply disclose, stylistic effects and meanings. ?eminist critics ha!e e$amined style less as an enclosed characteristic of a particular te$t and more as a reflection of the sociocultural hierarchieskpredominantly male kwhich control stylistic habits and methods of interpretation. /imilarly, Bar$ists and new historicists concern themsel!es with style as an element of the more important agenda of cultural and ideological change and mutation. ?or the sake of con!enience we shall di!ide these different approaches to stylistics into two basic categories5 te$tualist and conte$tualist. The ?ormalists and <ew +ritics are mainly te$tualists in that they regard the stylistic features of a particular literary te$t as producti!e of an empirical unity and completeness. They do not percei!e literary style as entirely e$clusi!e to literaturekrhythm is an element of all spoken language, and narrati!e features in ordinary con!ersationkbut when these stylistic features are combined so as to dominate the fabric of a te$t, that te$t is regarded as literature. +onte$tualism in!ol!es a far more loose and disparate collection of methods. Its unifying characteristic is its concentration on the relation between te$t and conte$t. /ome structuralists argue that the stylistic features of poetry draw upon the same structural frameworks that enable us to distinguish between modes of dress or such social rituals as eating. /ome feminists regard literary style as a means of securing attitudes and hierarchies that, in the broader conte$t, maintain the difference between male and female roles. C#ncl)si#n "ccording to I.2. Galperin and some other scholars, the term ,style. is presumed to apply to the following fields of in!estigation5 • The aesthetic function of language • R$pressi!e means in language • /ynonymous ways of rendering one and the same idea • Rmotional colouring in language • " system of special de!ices called stylistic de!ices • The splitting of the literary language into separate systems called styles • The interrelation between language and thought • The indi!idual manner of an author in making use of language #ractically all of these eight statements ha!e a certain bearing on the subjectH each has something to do with style and stylistics. "t the same time none is self=sufficient. If we try to summarize them we0ll get a contradictory picture. /o let us e$amine them one by one using the ideas e$pressed by ]u. /krebne!. 8. The notion of style is connected with the aesthetic function of language with reference to works of art, i.e. poetry and imaginati!e prose. *ut works of science, diplomatic or commercial correspondence, technical instructions and many other kinds of te$ts ha!e no aesthetic !alue. /o5 this definition co!ers only a limited part of the problems of stylistics. ). R$pressi!e means of language only partially constitute the subject of stylistics. They are employed in poetry, fiction, collo-uial speech, but hardly e!er science, technology, business letters. It would be wrong to confine the aims of stylistics to in!estigating e$pressi!e means only. %. /ynonymous ways of rendering ideas are rele!ant to the notion of style. /tyles are formed due to the possibility of choice, the possibility of using different words in analogous situations. *ut the idea e$pressed by two or more synonyms does not remain the same. It means that if the form changes, the contents and its stylistic !alue changes as well. '. Rmotional colouring is connected with the notion of style. " poetic declaration of lo!e and a funeral speech are different emotionally and stylistically. 7n the other hand, there are many te$t types which are -uite unemotional, but still subject to stylistic in!estigation. ./ The notion of ,stylistic de!ice. is !ery contro!ersial. The style of anything is formed out of features peculiar to it, those differentiating it from whate!er it may be compared to. Ghat we say or write, what we read or hear is not style by itself, but merely has styleH it demonstrates stylistic features. It is just like fashion in clothing5 no one e!er wears ,fashion., people wear clothes which demonstrate fashionable features. 0/ It is wrong to say that separate systems obtained as the result of splitting the literary language are styles. 7ne of the reasons for it is that it is wrong to deal only with the literary language, as does the definition, ignoring the fact that works of fiction often reproduce the so=called 6low0 types of speech (+atcher in the Rye, The Adventures of "uckleberry /inn. 1/ /tyle or stylistics, according to /crebne!, is not concerned with the interrelation between language and thought. Thought and its lingual e$pression make an inseparable unity although the speaker0s intention may ha!e been -uite different from what was actually performed or the listener or reader may misinterpret the message. &. The definition of style as the indi!idual manner of an author in making use of language is acceptable to a certain e$tent. <o researcher can or will study indi!idualities without a background or common premises and without aiming at generalizations. It is not only indi!idual peculiarities that are in!estigated by stylistics, but peculiarities of te$t types as well. In general we may conclude that each of these eight characteristics discussed contains some information on style and stylistics, but none of them is entirely acceptable. Xuite a number of scholars in this country and abroad, along with other definitions of style, come to the conclusion that style may be also defined as deviations from the lingual norm. In their opinion, in any gi!en national language there e$ists a certain number of stylistically neutral, non=coloured and non=specific elements. The /o!iet academician 1.A. /cherba once said 6lin order to achie!e a free command of a literary language, e!en one0s own, one must read widely, gi!ing preference to those writers who de!iate but slightly from the norm0. The stylistic colouring is nothing but the knowledge where, in what particular type of communication, the unit in -uestion can be used. 7n hearing a certain utterance (An ole bean kicked the bucket* we compare it with our knowledge of standard and non=standard forms of Rnglish, and then pass the judgment on what we hear or read. /tylistically coloured units are definitely characterized i.e. ha!e a sort of ,label. on them showing how this unit should be used. &tylistically neutral units also possess connotations in their semantic structure. *ut these connotations are innumerable. <o one can say e$actly how many connotations the word 6water0 has, since we ha!e met it in !arious spheres of communication. /ince the number of connotations is indefinitely large, the general result is their mutual annihilation. The resultant connotation is neutral. Generally speaking, the notion of norm implies pre=established and con!entionally accepted parameters (characteristics of what is e!aluated. If we turn to linguistic problems, opinions !ary as usual. ]u /krebne! holds an opinion that there are as many norms as there are sublanguagesH there has ne!er been any single norm for all. "ccording to him, neutral does not necessarily mean normal. I. Galperin defines norm as 6the in!ariant of the phonemic, morphological, le$ical, and syntactical patterns circulating in language=in=action at a gi!en period of time0. Galperin connects the in!estigation of norm with the literary language. "ccording to his point of !iew, at e!ery period in the de!elopment of a literary language there must be a tangible norm which first of all marks the difference between literary and non=literary language. Then there must be a clear distinction between the in!ariant of the norm (as an abstraction and its !ariants (in concrete te$ts. R!ery functional style of language is marked by a specific use of language means, thus establishing its own norms which, howe!er, are subordinated to the norm=in!ariant and which do not !iolate the general notion of the literary norm. The writers of the gi!en period in the de!elopment of the literary language contribute greatly to establishing the system of norms of their period. It is worth noting that the in!estigations of language norms at a gi!en period are to great e$tent maintained on works of men of letters. /election, or deliberate choice of language, and the ways the chosen elements are treated are the main distinctive features of individual style. "ccording to I.A. "rnold, norm is what is actually used, accepted and understood in the given language community depending on concrete conditions of communication- 1iterary norm is defined with the help of works of literature, scientific and publicistic prose, as I.2. Galperin noted as well. "s I.A. "rnold says, speech is defined by the type and conditions of communication. That is why its correctness is relati!e. That is why when the character in a work of literature !iolates the grammar rules it does not necessarily mean that he Lshe is low=educated, because we should take into consideration the setting, the mood of the character and the situation of communication. In the narrow meaning of the word, norm is the general standard of literary language. 7ne of the most characteristic and essential properties of the norm is its fle(ibility. " too rigorous following to the norm brands the human language as pedantic, no matter whether it is oral or written speech. *ut on the other hand, neglect of the norm will always be regarded as an attempt to !iolate the norm of the language and to slow down the process of communication. "t the same time, a free handling of the norms may be regarded as a permissible application of the fle$ibility of the norm. Chapter No: 0, THE CONCERN OF STYLISTICS FOCUS ON • Stylistics • Language • Aspects o Speech 2&ents • Language +arieties and !unctions • Style • The Study o Style • The Concern o Stylistics • Stylistics and "ther Spheres o Study St(listics .hat is Stylistics/ /imply defined, stylistics is a discipline that studies the ways in which language is usedH it is a discipline that studies the styles of language in use. This definition, howe!er, needs elucidation. The stylistics we are discussing here is modern stylistics, a discipline that applies concepts and techni-ues of modern linguistics to the study of styles of language use. It has two subdi!isions5 general stylistics and literary stylistics, with the latter concentrating solely on uni-ue features of !arious literary works, and the former on the general features of !arious types of language use. 6/tylistics0, in this book, is both general stylistics and literary stylistics5 one that studies the stylistic features of the main !arieties of language, co!ering the functional !arieties from the dimension of fields of discourse (different social acti!ities, formal !s. informal !arieties from the dimension of tenors of discourse (different addresser= addressee relationships, and the spoken !s. written !arieties from the dimension of modes of discourse (different mediums. Beanwhile, general stylistics co!ers the !arious genres of literature (fiction, drama, poetry in its study. *ut it focuses on the interpretation of the o!erall characteristics of respecti!e genres, with selected e$tracts of literary te$ts as samples. If we say that literary stylistics also discusses the o!erall linguistic features of the !arious genres of literature, then the scope of general stylistics and the scope of literary stylistics are only partly o!erlapping, as is shown in the following figure5 Bodern /tylistics General /tylistics 1iterary /tylistics Aariety ?eatures Genre ?eatures 1iterary Te$t /tyle General stylistics, as a discipline, needs to make clear a whole set of related terms and terminology and answer -uestions like5 Ghat is languageJ Ghat is language !arietyJ Ghat is styleJ Ghat are stylistic featuresJ etc. L'n)'e ?irst, we need to clarify our !iews on language. Ge must be clear about what language is, or how we should look at language. There are many definitions of language, or many ways of looking at it. Bodern linguistics which began with /aussure0s lectures on general linguistics in 8@4:=88 regards language as a system of signs. Beanwhile, "merican structuralism represented by *loomfield regards language as a unified structure, a collection of habits. ?rom the late 8@K4s on, the fact that 6man talks0 and the implications of this human capacity ha!e been at the centre of in!estigation in the linguistic sciences. The transformational=generati!e (TG linguists headed by <oam +homsky ha!e been concerned with the innate and infinite capacity of the human mind. This approach sees language as a system of innate rules (+homsky, 8@K;. The approach ad!ocated by the systemic=functional linguists headed by B. ". F. Halliday sees language as a 6social semiotic0, as an instrument used to perform !arious functions in social interaction. This approach holds that in many crucial respects, what is more important is not so much that 6man talks0 as that 6men talk0H that is, that language is essentially a social acti!ity (Halliday, 8@;&. The philosophical !iew of language or a language is related to the actual occurrence of language in society == what are called language acti!ities. #eople accomplish a great deal not only through physical acts such as cooking, eating, bicycling, running a machine, cleaning, but also by !erbal acts of all types5 con!ersation, telephone calls, job application letters, notes scribbled to a roommate, etc. "ll utterances (whether a word, a sentence, or se!eral sentences can be thought of as goal=directed actions. ("ustin, 8@:)H /earle, 8@:@ /uch actions as carried out through language are speech acts. /ocial acti!ities in which language (either spoken or written plays an important role such as con!ersation, discussion, lecture, etc are speech events. Bost of these e!ents are se-uential and transitory (that is, they occur in se-uence and cannot last for a long time. It is difficult to e$amine them at the time of their occurrence. /o we ha!e to record the e!ents. "ny such record, whether recalled through memory, or committed to a tape, or written down on paper, or printed in a book, of a speech e!ent, is known as a te(t. 1anguage is often compared to a code, a system of signals or symbols used for sending a message, a piece of information. In any act of !erbal communication (both spoken and written, primarily spoken, language has been regarded as a system for translating meanings in the addresser’s (the speaker0sLwriter0s mind into soundsLletters, i.e. encoding (meaning= to=soundLletter, or con!ersely, for translating soundsLletters into meanings in the addressee’s (the hearer0sL reader0s mind, i.e. decoding (soundLletter=to=meaning, with le$is and grammar as the formal code mediating between meaning and soundLletter. *ut we must keep in mind that, unlike other signalling codes, language code does not operate in a fi$ed way == it is open=ended in that it permits generation of new meanings and new forms (such as metaphorical meanings, and neologismsH i.e. it is in a way creati!ely e$tendible. Te$t, then, is !erbal communication (either spoken or written seen as a message coded in a linear pattern of sound wa!es, or in a linear se-uence of !isible marks on paper. As$ects #+ the S$eech E"ent 1anguage is transmitted, patterned and embedded in the human social e$perience. /o it is both possible and useful to discern three crucial aspects of a speech e!ent == the substantial, the formal and the situational. (see Gregory and +arroll, 8@;& 1anguage is transmitted by means of audible sound wa!es in the air or !isible marks on a surface. These sounds or marks are the substance of the speech e!ents. The audible sounds or !isible marks are not jumbled together == rather, they are arranged in a con!entionally orderly way, displaying meaningful patterns in their internal relations. These meaningful internal patterns are the form of the speech e!ent. 1anguage acti!ities do not occur in isolation from other human acti!ities. They take place in rele!ant e$tra=te$tual circumstances, linguistic and non= linguistic. These rele!ant e$tra=te$tual circumstances are the situation (/ituation, as the non= linguistic setting or en!ironment surrounding language use, can clearly influence linguistic beha!iour. It is fre-uently synonymous with conte$t, a conceptual abstraction from all possible situations, and its collocates == conte$t of situation, especially, conte$t of utterance. The abstracted conte$t, composed partly of the probable co=te$t, partly of the probable situation of each item, establishes the meaningfulness of the formal items in the language. of the speech e!ent. "ny speech e!ent is part of a situation, and so has a relationship with that situation. Indeed, it is this conte$tual relationship between the substance and form of a speech e!ent on the one hand and the situation in which it occurs on the other, which gi!es what is normally called 6meaning0 to utterances. In other words, conte(t determines meaning of features in situations. L'n)'e V'&ieties 'nd F)ncti#n "s mentioned just now, when language is used, it is always used in a conte$t. Ghat is said and how it is said is often subject to a !ariety of circumstances. In other words, speech e!ents differ in different situations, i.e. between different persons, at different times, in different places, for different purposes, through different media, and amidst different social en!ironments. Ge often adjust our language according to the nature of the conte$t of situation. /ome situations seem to depend generally and fairly consistently on a regular set of linguistic featuresH as a result, there ha!e appeared different types of a language which are called varieties of language. /o far as the Rnglish language is concerned, there are different 6Rnglishes0 to fit different situations5 for instance, 7ldLBodern Rnglish, *ritishL"merican Rnglish, *lack Rnglish, legal Rnglish, scientific Rnglish, liturgical Rnglish, ad!ertising Rnglish, formalL informal Rnglish, spokenLwritten Rnglish, etc. There is actually no such thing as a homogeneous Rnglish language. In all these !arieties, language performs !arious communicati!e roles, i.e. functions. ?or e$ample, language is used (functions to communicate ideas, to e$press attitudes, and so on. The roles that language plays are e!er changing and the number of the roles can be numerous. There ha!e been many attempts to categorize these roles into a few major functions. The ideational or referential function ser!es for e$pressing the speaker0sLwriter0s e$perience of the real world, including the inner world of hisLher own consciousness. The interpersonal or e(pressiveBsocial function ser!es to establish and maintain social relations, for the e$pression of social roles, and also for getting things done by means of interaction between one person and another. The te(tual function pro!ides means for making links within the te$t itself and with features of its immediate situation. (?or detailed discussion see later chapters. The three functions represent three coe$isting ways in which language has to be adapted to its users0 communicati!e needs. ?irst, it has to con!ey a message about 6reality0, about the world of e$perience, from speakerLwriter to hearerLreader. /econdly, it must fit appropriately into a speech situationH fulfilling the particular social designs that speakerLwriter has upon hearerLreader. Thirdly, it must be well constructed as an utterance or te$t, so as to ser!e the decoding needs of hearerLreader. These functions and the needs they ser!e are interrelated5 success in interpersonal or e$pressi!eLsocial communication depends in part on success in transmitting a message, which in turn depends in part on success in terms of te$t production. 3ifferent types of language ha!e relations with predominant functions, e.g. ad!ertising with persuasion, TA commentary with information and address terms with social roles. 1iterary te$ts can be regarded as a type of language which performs a distinct social function == an aesthetic or poetic function. The functions are not mutually e$clusi!e5 an utterance may well ha!e more than one function. St(le <ow we come to the -uestion of style. The word style has been used in many ways5 /tyle may refer to a person0s distincti!e language habits, or the set of indi!idual characteristics of language use, as 6/hakespeare0s style0, 6Biltonic style0, 6Iohnsonese0 or 6the style of Iames Ioyce0. *uffon0s 61e style, c0est l0homme m\me0, has contributed to the !ogue of this definition. 7ften, it concentrates on a person0s particularly singular or original features of speaking or writing. Hence at the e$treme end style may refer to a writer 0s de!iations from a relati!ely normal use of language. /tyle may refer to a set of collecti!e characteristics of language use, i.e. language habits shared by a group of people at a gi!en time, as 6Rlizabethan style0, in a gi!en place, as 6]ankee humour0, amidst a gi!en occasion, as 6the style of public speaking0, for a literary genre, as 6ballad style0, etc. Here the concentration is not on the indi!iduality of the speaker or writer, but on their similarities in a gi!en situation. /tyle may refer to the effecti!eness of a mode of e$pression, which is implied in the definition of style as 6saying the right thing in the most effecti!e way0 or 6good manners0, as a 6clear0 or 6refined0 style ad!ocated in most books of composition. /tyle may refer solely to a characteristic of 6good0 or 6beautiful0 literary writings. This is the wide=spread use of style among literary critics, as 6grand style0, 6ornate style0, 6lucid style0, 6plain style0, etc, gi!en to literary works. 7f the abo!e four senses of style, the first two (especially the second come nearest to our definition of style. To be e$act, we shall regard style as the language habits of a person or group of persons in a gi!en situation. "s different situations tend to yield different !arieties of a language which, in turn, display different linguistic features, so style may be seen as the !arious characteristic uses of language that a person or group of persons make in !arious social conte$ts. Here we can use ?erdinand de /aussure0s distinction between langue and parole. Langue is the system of rules common to speakers of a particular language (such as Rnglish, i.e. the general mass of linguistic features common to a language as used on e!ery concei!able occasion. 0arole is the particular uses of this system, or selections from this system, that a person or group of persons will make on this or that occasion. /tyle, then, belongs to parole. It consists in choices from the total linguistic repertoire of a particular language. "ll linguistic choices are meaningful, and all linguistic choices are stylistic. R!en choices which are dearly dictated by subject matter are part of style. In our discussion, howe!er, stylistic choice is limited to those aspects of linguistic choice which concern alternati!e ways of rendering the same subject matter, or those forms of language which can be seen as e-ui!alent in terms of 6referential reality0 they describe, or, in other words, the 6synonymous e$pressions0 in transmitting the same 6message0. Ge are interested in the way in which choices of codes are adapted to communicati!e functions for ad!ertising, news reporting, science thesis, etc including the aesthetic function for literature, hence the occurrence of different functional styles and of the !arious styles of literature. Ghen we look at style in a te$t, we are not likely to be struck by local or indi!idual choices in isolation, but rather at a pattern of choices. If, for instance, a te$t shows a repeated preference for passi!e structures o!er acti!e structures, we are likely to consider this preference a feature of style. *ut local or specific features may also be noteworthy features of style if they form a significant relationship with other features in a coherent (consistent pattern of choice. +onsistency in preference is naturally reduced to 6fre-uency05 To find out what is distincti!e about the style of a te$t, we just measure the fre-uency of the features it contains. The more we wish to substantiate what we say about style, the more we will need to point to the linguistic e!idence of te$tsH and linguistic e!idence has to be couched in terms of numerical fre-uency. ]et it is worth our note that a feature which occurs more rarely than usual is just as much a part of the statistical pattern as one which occurs more often than usualH and it is also a significant aspect of our sense of style. The St)d( #+ St(le /ome scholars call the object of stylistics simply style, without further -ualifications. Indeed, the study of style in western countries has been undertaken for more than two thousand years. The doctrine of 6decorum0 or fittingness of style has passed down from the rhetoricians of "ncient Greece and 2ome, who applied it first to oratory and then to written language. Qp till the late 8@th century, style studies had always been closely integrated with the art of writing and the e!aluation of literary works. In fact, traditional approaches to language laid such hea!y store by the -uality of written language that 6good style0 or sometimes simply 6style0 was used as a description of writing that was praiseworthy, skilful or elegant. "t the turn of the century, ?erdinand de /aussure, in his Gene!a lectures of 8@4:=88, +ours de linguistiue generale (8@8:, attacked the 8@th century philologists for their 6diachronic0 or historical study of language (i.e. looking at language as it changes through time, and for their interest in prescribing normal or 6correct0 usage modelled on 6classic0 literary writings. His influence was so strong that, after him, the professional study of language soon !eered away from the historical concern of philology towards linguistics, which claimed to be hea!ily descripti!e and to describe a gi!en language 6synchronically0 (i.e. synchronic study5 looking at language as it e$ists at a gi!en time. /aussure, with his insistence on the primacy of e!eryday speech, was little interested in the written language and e!en less in the literary. He !iewed literary language as special uses of language which were comparati!ely unimportant in the study of language as a whole. His pupil, +harles *ally, who began the systematic study of what we now call 6stylistics0, again ga!e scant attention to literature. "merican linguist 1eonard *loomfield held much the similar !iew. This is only too natural, for, at the turn of the century, new linguistics was yet fighting for its autonomy and needed to emphasize its difference from traditional language studies. It was not until the fifties that there appeared a sway from this position. <oam +homsky0s &yntactic &tructures (8@K; re!i!ed interest in what had once looked a discredited concern with 6correctness0 in speech and with an inherited system of rules. +homsky belie!es that the human mind must be constituted at birth to recei!e certain patterns of languageH otherwise it would be !ery hard to e$plain how infants learn their mother tongue so -uickly and with little effort. /o it may not ha!e been absurd of the Ruropean 2enaissance to ha!e interested itself in the prospect of a uni!ersal grammar underlying all human languages. +homsky destroyed the dominance of structuralism and encouraged a new tolerance of historical grammar. "nd in doing this he initiated a new interest in literature among professional linguists and the prospect of co=operation between criticism and the professional study of language. *y the 8@K4s most of the early an$ieties on the part of linguists had become unnecessary. The tools of linguistics could be used in related disciplines without the danger of reducing linguistics itself to a mere technology or a ser!ice station. 7n the contrary, by the time they came back to literary language, linguists had been armed to the teeth ( with fresh insights and new theories as well as a formidable technical !ocabulary. This time they would study style in a much more detailed and systematic way. They would not study literature to the e$clusion of other !arieties of language. 2ather they would approach literature as a comple$ of !arieties of language in use and point to the aesthetic function of literary language. The 8@:4s saw the flourishing of modern stylistics5 Two landmark !olumes of papers presented respecti!ely to the Indiana /tyle +onference in 8@K& (/tyle in language, BIT #ress and to the *ellagio /tyle +onference in 8@:@ (1iterary /tyle5 a /ymposium, 7Q# came into being. Bonographs such as 1inguistics and /tyle (Rnk!ist et al, 8@:' and In!estigating Rnglish /tyle (+rystal and 3a!y, 8@:@, " 1inguistic Guide to Rnglish #oetry (1eech, 8@:@ appeared. <ew courses on style were offered in colleges and uni!ersities. Te$tbooks concerning spoken !arieties of Rnglish (some with accompanying records or tapes such as Aarieties of /poken Rnglish (3ickinson and Backin, 8@:@, /cientifically /peaking (*rookes, 8@;8 were published. Grammars, as A Crammar of +ontemporary 'nglish (Xuirk et al, 8@;) widened their scope to include in their study 9sentence connection0, 6focus0, 6theme0, 6emphasis0, and 6!arieties of Rnglish and classes of Rnglish0. 3ictionaries began to gi!e labels (e.g. fml, collo-uial, slang, etc to words and phrases of stylistic colouring. ?rom the 8@:4s onward, application of !arious linguistic models such as transformational=generati!e linguistics, systemic=functional linguistics, speech=act theory, discourse analysis etc in stylistic analysis has been gaining momentum in the past decades of years. The C#nce&n #+ St(listic St)d( Ha!ing discussed what language is and the sense of style, we are now in a position to come to a more refined definition of stylistics5 8t is a discipline that studies the sum of stylistic features characteristic of the different varieties of language. /tylistic study concerns itself with the situational features that influence !ariations in language use, the criterion for the classification of language !ariety, and the description and interpretation of the linguistic features and functions of the main !arieties (both literary and non=literary of a language == in this book, of the Bodern Rnglish language. "s an independent discipline, stylistics offers a comparati!ely more complete theoretical framework and a more rigorous procedure of linguistic description, so that learners will ha!e a systematic knowledge of the features of different !arieties of language, make appropriate use of language in their communication, familiarize themsel!es with the stylistic features of the different genres of literature, and deepen their understanding and appreciation of literary works. *esides, stylistics offers useful ideas on translation and language teaching. St(listics 'nd Othe& S$he&es #+ St)d( " formerly !ery much borderline discipline, stylistics takes roots in the soil of modern linguistics, using models and methods of linguistic description in the stylistic analysis of te$ts. /tylistics also absorbs nourishment from literary theories, and so is closely related to them. /imilar to modern linguistics, stylistics lays stress on the study of language functions and the different structures dictated by these functions. *ut linguistics stresses the description of linguistic structures while stylistics on the stylistic effects of different language structures. /tylistics is the continuation and de!elopment of rhetoric. Howe!er, discarding the traditional practices of rhetoric to establish norms for people to model on, stylistics turns to the presentation of the functional features of language == it is descripti!e, not prescripti!e. It does not aim at a so=called 6refined0 style of writing, but at a manner 6appropriate0 to the situation. /tylistics supplies literary criticism with a brand=new approach. /ince the beginning of the )4th century the linguistic turn in literary criticism has enabled the scientific school of literary theorists such as 2ussian formalism, <ew +riticism, /tructuralism, etc to place language in the central position of their theories. Gith a whole set of meta=language renewed by modern linguistics and modern literary theory == de!iation, prominence, function, situational factors, narrati!e points of !iew, modes of presenting speech, etc, and with the multi=le!el structural approach, stylistics has pushed the linguistic turn to its e$treme. Baking literary research still more scientific and more accurate, it broadens the !ision of literary criticism. Chapter No: 03 THE NEED FOR STYLISTIC STUDY FOCUS ON • Stylistic Study 4elps Culti&ate a Sense o Appropriateness • Stylistic Study Sharpens the #nderstanding and Appreciation o Literary 5or6s • Stylistic Study 4elps Achie&e Adaptation in Translation St(listic St)d( Hel$s C)lti"'te ' Sense #+ A$$&#$&i'teness "s mentioned abo!e, language is not a homogeneous phenomenon. It has a wide range of !arieties. #eople ha!e to respond to a gi!en situation with an appropriate !ariety of language, and as they mo!e through the day, they change the type of language they are using with the changing situation. 7nly in this way can they communicate on a range of subjects, with persons in !arious walks of life, and gain their understanding as well as understand them. The importance of appropriateness in speech e!ents can be best illustrated by one0s way of dressing. Ghat would you say to a man if he turned up at a ball with his badminton shoes onJ "nd what would you say to him if he did not wear a jacket at a wedding partyJ ]ou would say that he probably did not know the appropriate manners of dressing re-uired for specific occasions. The same is true of the language habits of a man5 he is e$pected to show the appropriate linguistic 6manners0 for different situations. The foreign learner has great difficulty in this. <ot ha!ing grown up in the rele!ant linguistic climate, the foreign learner knows only what heLshe has been taught in hisLher foreign language lessons, which, in most cases, ha!e tended to centre on just one !ariety of language == generally the kind of standard written language. Therefore, when heLshe comes, for instance, to an Rnglish=speaking country, heLshe is likely to make use of that one !ariety of Rnglish for all occasions. HeL/he may often talk like a book and appear too serious on an informal occasion. In another way, heLshe may pick up a few slangy or e!en !ulgar e$pressions from hisLher reading, and use them whene!er there is a chance, thus unwittingly producing a bad impression on others. Ge can think of many instances to illustrate this. Ge know, for instance, 6*ottoms up0 has the +hinese e-ui!alent of 6 干杯0 . *ut it is preferably used on an informal occasion, especially when we really emphasize emptying the glass. " +hinese learner of Rnglish is likely to o!erlook the stylistic colour of the phrase and use it at a !ery formal ban-uet. "ctually, 6干杯0 could be safely rendered as <ow allow me to propose a toast to the friendship between the peoples of +hina and the Qnited /tates, .... for a grand occasion, or as "ere’s to the health of our friendse on a common occasion, or as +heers！ on a casual occasion. 7ther e$amples are the use of taboo words5 In order to get ahead in the modern western world, sometimes you ha!e to be willing to eat shit. or slangy e$pression in an otherwise dignified conte$t5 In the opinion of many students, the dean0s commencement address stank. 7f course, on an informal occasion, we are supposed to sound less formal in our talk. Ge must not use structures like Ha!ing learnt that you won the first prize in the speech contest, I ha!e come in person to congratulate you, my friend, on your /uccess. which would sound most bookish. The choice of a particular speech style has social implications. ?or e$ample, choosing a formal style in a casual conte$t may sound funny, and using a !ery collo-uial style in a formal conte$t, such as in a sermon, at a funeral ser!ice, may offend. Therefore we ha!e to de!elop a sense of appropriateness and be aware that certain kinds of e$pressions are more suitable or efficient than others in some situations. It goes without saying that we, as students of Rnglish, need to grasp the greatest amount of 6common core0 of Rnglish == linguistic features which all the !arieties of Rnglish share in some degree and which constitute the major part of the linguistic picture for any single !ariety, howe!er specialized it may be. Githout a command of these features, fluency in any !ariety is impossible. *ut to know only the common core, and to cope with all situations with just this single kind of 6!ariety0, is likely to cause delay in work or business. Take technical !ocabulary for e$ample. It will not do if we use a large number of technical words or phrases which go o!er the head of a group of ordinary non=professional audience. ]et neither will it do if we fail to use them in discussions among professionals. ?or technical e$pressions are generally more concise and comprehensi!e and so are indispensable in communicating succinctly and directly to those who know or are e$pected to be able to learn the field of acti!ity being discussed. To adopt a roundabout way of talking about what they refer to (like using such lay term as 6a shell with a powerful capacity to pierce through armoured !ehicles0 for the technical term 6armour=piercing projectile0 will surely waste much time. "t a higher le!el of study, we should gi!e !arious professional touches to our use of language and should be able to speak and write in highly situation=tied !arieties (such as legal Rnglish when necessary. St(listic St)d( Sh'&$ens the Unde&st'ndin 'nd A$$&eci'ti#n #+ Lite&'&( W#&,s Ge often find that people argue o!er the linguistic interpretation of a poem as to whether a particular effect or meaning has been e$pressed. The discussion usually mo!es from general statements to particulars as each disputant attempts to back up his or her opinion. In the process of discussion a new understanding of the te$t begins to emerge as a more coherent description emerges == a description based on actual features of the te$t that one can point to and demonstrate. /uch a description is what stylisticians are most at home inkwhat is more, they can replace a sporadic approach with a systematic one, and can follow a procedure which will focus attention on all that is interesting in a te$t and thus ensure that no item of potential significance is o!erlooked. "ctually literary criticism generally in!ol!es three processes5 3R/+2I#TI7<mI<TR2#2RT"TI7<mRA"1Q"TI7< <o doubt, the e!entual thrust of literary criticism is to e!aluate works of literature. *ut interpretation comes before e!aluation, and description comes before interpretation. /tylistic analysis, by starting with linguistic facts, relates description to interpretation and formal features to their artistic function. It thus forms an essential part of literary critical acti!ity. In literary creation, a writer is constantly in!ol!ed in making linguistic choices == choices between one word and another, one structure and another, and so on. Generally there are two kinds of choices5 first, the breaking of normal rules of linguistic structure (whether phonological, grammatical, le$ical or semantic == what we call deviationH second, the o!eruse of a particular linguistic feature == what we call repetition. *oth de!iation and repetition produce a psychological effect on the mind of the reader == they make a feature stand out. This highlighting of a linguistic feature against the background of the normal set of rules for the Rnglish language is what we call foregrounding. R$amination of the foregrounded features the writer has chosen constitutes an important aspect of the stylistic study of literary te$ts. B. /hort (8@&' gi!es us two e$emplary cases of foregrounding. " typical e$ample of de!iation is 3ylan Thomas0 6a grief ago0. The phrase breaks two rules of the normal use of Rnglish5 8 /yntactically after a, there should be a countable noun which can be pluralized (as day == days, room == rooms, not an uncountable noun which can not be pluralized (as happiness == nhappinesses, grief == ngriefs . ) /emantically ago usually modifies a noun to do with time, such as day, week, month, year, which form a normal paradigm with the frame 6a oo ago0. Crief, howe!er, is a term that has to do with emotions, like 4oy, tenderness, happiness, which form an abnormal paradigm with the frame 6a====ago0. Bormal #aradigm "bnormal #aradigm a day ago a grief ago a week ago a joy ago a month ago a tenderness ago a year ago a happiness ago *y comparing the two paradigms, we can see that Thomas appears to be measuring time in terms of emotion. This is a method of comparison == comparing what is actually written by an author with what might ha!e been written. 2epetition refers to the repetiti!e patterns of sound (such as alliteration, le$is or grammar (such as parallelism. " perfect case of parallelism can be /hakespeare0s line from 7thello5 I kissed thee ere I killed thee. The line consists of two clauses linked by ere in which 8 and thee are repeated. ,issed and killed are also repeated in a number of ways5 alliteration (repetition ofLkLsound, assonance (the repeated !owelLiL, syllable structure (both +A++, the second morpheme (as a past tense marker and grammatical function (both predicators within parallel clauses. The repetiti!e pattern opposes one clause to the other, and in particular kissed to killed we know that unlike love !s. hate, kissed and killed are not antonyms. *ut for a moment, /hakespeare0s line has rearranged our le$icon, making us interpret the two items as opposed to each other or parallel in meaning. *esides foregrounding, writers often imitate !arieties of a language for particular effects. The most skilled no!elists and dramatists clearly differentiate the speech ways of their characters by using a number of !arieties (both dialects and registers to make them real and lifelike == e!eryone speaks in hisLher own distincti!e manners. Thus, with a clear idea of !arieties in mind we can make intelligent guesses about a character0s regional and class origin, hisLher educational and professional background, etc. In modern literature, writers make wide use of deliberate mi$ing of !arieties without clear identification of speakers. " !ery good e$ample of mi$ed !arieties (registers, to be more e$act is Henry 2eed0s poem, <aming of #arts5 Today we ha!e naming of parts. ]esterday, Ge had daily cleaning. "nd tomorrow morning Ge shall ha!e what to do after firing. *ut today, Today we ha!e naming of parts. Iaponica Glistens like coral in all the neighbouring gardens, "nd today we ha!e naming of parts. .... "nd this you can see is the bolt. The purpose of this Is to open the breech, as you see. Ge can slide it 2apidly backwards and forwards5 we call this Rasing the spring. "nd rapidly backwards and forwards The early bees are assaulting and fumbling the flowers5 They call it easing the /pring. They call it easing the /pring5 it is perfectly easy If you ha!e strength in your thumb5 like the bolt, "nd the breech, and the cocking=piece, and the point of balance, Ghich in our case we ha!e not gotH and the almond=blossom /ilent in all the gardens, and the bees going backwards and forwards, ?or today we ha!e naming of parts. Here no typographical de!ices show the transition to and fro between what the army instructor is saying to the recruits and what the poet=recruit is thinking in his mind. "ll is done by the subtle change in !arieties of language == with use of monotonous clich>s from the teaching manual, switching to the poetic language to be e$pected from an imaginati!e writer. The repetition of the dull phrases e$presses the tedious, regimented life of the recruits who are preparing to kill and to be killed, whereas the beautiful lines about the gardens present the free, joyous life of nature == e!erything that is missing from the li!es of the recruits. The poet=recruit seems to at once lo!e and hate some of the instructional items. He hates them for their association with a weapon. He lo!es them for their se$ual image. This feeling points to a contrast between the sterile destructi!eness of war and the dynamic natural force of life. Ge must not be misled to think of literary style as essentially 6abnormal0 or that 6normal usages lack style0. Bany scholars ha!e been attracted almost e$clusi!ely to the study of ob!iously eccentric uses of language, and ha!e ignored much that is less ob!ious, though not necessarily less important. In !iew of this, stylisticians would suggest a checklist of features against which to select what is likely to be significant in a te$t. Ge shall likewise discuss the possible stylistic features about a te$t in -uestion in terms of phonologicalLgraphological, le$ico=grammatical, and semantic le!els before we take up the actual study of the use of language. St(listic St)d( Hel$s Achie"e Ad'$t'ti#n in T&'nsl'ti#n /tylistics tells us that all languages ha!e different !arieties for different functional roles, and each main !ariety displays a fairly regular set of features. /o in translation, it is far from enough to simply con!ey the original sense. 2ather, the translated te$t must be adapted to the original in terms of language type and general effect. Take the translation of practical writings such as in!itation cards, notices, announcements, rules and regulations, and receipts. The translator should know the con!entional ways of writing these things in the target language. To put +hinese and Qrdu 6油漆未干0, 6gheela paint0 into Rnglish, heLshe has to use the e-ui!alent Rnglish e$pression 6Get #aint0 instead of literally rendering it as 6The paint is not dry0. ?or 6危p pp p p ，此 有炸 0, 6khatra, phutnewala mawad0, heLshe should use 63anger5 R$plosi!es0. #rior to translating, the translator should read and study the original te$t, so as to grasp its o!erall style, including its wording inclination (whether the te$t is inclined to technical, abstruse, simple or slangy words, its sentence features (whether the sentences are simple, or comple$H whether there are any commands, or -uestions or !ariations in syntactic patterns, its rhetorical de!ices (whether there are metaphors, antithesis, hyperbole, its patterns of presentation (whether it uses negation, rhetorical -uestion, direct or indirect presentation, its general mood or modality, its manner of paragraphing, etc. " good translation should be able to e$ert on the reader of the target language an impact similar to that of the original te$t on the reader of the source language. If the original te$t is full of humour, the translated te$t should also be full of humour. If the original is ironic in tone, then the translated te$t should be like that too. Ge should gi!e back a 6refined0 te$t for the 6refined0 original, a 6popular0 one for the 6popular0 original. The language of translated documents should contain the characteristic forms and formulas of official documentsH scientific writings in the target language should not be in!aded by words of strong literary fla!our. In translation, attention should be paid to a careful understanding of the le!el of formality the original te$t belongs to. Take Rnglish te$ts for e$ample. They may belong to old=fashioned formal Rnglish ( the kind of written language used in the 8&th=8@th centuries represented by /amuel Iohnson (8;4&=&' and Rdward Gibbon (8;%;=@' or modem formal Rnglish == the kind of written language used in the )4th century, or modem informal Rnglish of the past century, which is further di!ided into general informal Rnglish and collo-uial Rnglish. Ghen they are to be put into +hineseand Qrdu, the +hinese and Qrdu te$ts ha!e to be adapted to their original le!els of formality. Thus, • old=fashioned formal Rnglish needs to be translated into old fashioned +hinese or Qrdu5 To some scholars, instruction emanates from lecture or laboratoryH to others it radiates from within. <o scholar is so well taught as he who can teach himself. 学 人 中 有 受 教 于 p p p p p p p p p p p p p p p p 堂 、 室 者 ， 亦 有 教 之 于 内 者 。 能 ppppppppp 自教自学， 学人中最上乘矣。 • modern formal Rnglish needs to be translated into dignified modem +hinese or Qrdu5 "lthough learning is judged to re-uire from teachers (and sometimes indeed it does, real instructors may be found not so much in school or in great laboratories as in the student0s own powers of insight. 学 p p p p p p p p p p p p p p p p p p p p 得 之 于 是 人 所 共 的 ， 有 ， 也 确 乎 此 。 ! ppppppppppppppppppppppppppppp 是，"#的 $% &'学()* 室，+ 是,学-.人的/01。 • general informal Rnglish needs to be translated into smooth modern +hinese, Qrdu or any other target language5 Ge think we learn from teachers, and we sometimes do. *ut teachers are not always to be found in school or in great laboratories. /ometimes what we learn depends upon our own powers of insight. 大家都p p p 2 是 向 老p p p p p p p p p p p p p p 3教，45 6， +7。!是8 也 p p p p p p p p p p p p p p p p 9 + : 有 ' 学 ( ; ) * 室 ; < 能 = > 。 有 ? ， 2 学 pppppppppppppp >@ A，B的是自C的DEFG。 • collo-uial Rnglish needs to be translated into collo-uial +hinese, Qrdu or any other target language5 ]ou know, people are always saying they learn from teacherse 7k, so they do, sometimes. *ut what we want to get across is this5 ]ou don0t always find your teachers in schools or in labs, either. <o sire /ometimes you find the teacher right in your own eyes and ears and brains. That0s where it0s ate Chapter No: 0. PRINCIPLES OF STYLISTICS AND FUNCTIONAL STYLES FOCUS ON • Stylistics7 its Linguistic 8Character97 its *ele&ance and its 'mportance • (rinciples o Stylistics • !unctional Styles • The Sub:ect and "b:ect o Stylistics • Semantical Structure o (olysemantic 5ords St(listics- its lin)istic .ch'&'cte&/- its &ele"'nce 'nd its im$#&t'nce /tylistics could be !iewed as a branch of linguistics. It engages in the scientific study of style in both spoken and written te$ts. It recognizes the relationship between form, conte$t and content by making use of language. The word style is deri!ed from the 1atin word 6/tylus0 meaning 62eed0. 2eed is a stick for writing. 1ater &tylus metamorphosed into style. The word style can be gi!en different meaning and as such it is difficult to gi!e a clear=cut monolithic definition of style but what we should know is that stylistics as a discipline originates from two separate and inter= related discipline and these disciplines are linguistics and literary criticism. The literary scholars and linguists ha!e accepted stylistics to be a worthwhile discipline. In !iew of this, one can rightly say that stylistics had secured a place for itself in the field of literature and language irrespecti!e of the di!ers opinions e$press of scholars. "s far as definition is concerned, critics and linguists ha!e held di!ergent !iews and opinions about its definition. /ome of these scholars belie!e that stylistics has a system and method which could be used to define the specific characteristics of literary words. /ome lay emphasis on its methodological approaches. Therefore, among modern scholars there is no agreement at all as to how to define the word style and stylistics. They all presume that they know where style is and they are all engaged in finding a scientific formula to locate it. Howe!er, in spite of these differences in opinion, linguistics has not totally failed in gi!ing all the framework with which to work in stylistics. It should then be noted that the domain for the study of style is known as stylistics. +hatman defines style as ,the manner in which form is e$ecuted or the means in which the conte$t is e$pressed.. /tyle can be used in either a technical or a non=technical sense. There is style in e!erything human beings do. /tyle in linguistics is applied to both written and spoken language. There are psycholinguists who belie!e that our speech helps to identify our social background, se$ and nationalities within the society. The inade-uacy of this approach lies in the fact that some people use of language may not re!eal their cultural identity. *uffoon gi!es another notion of styleH he belie!es that style is the man. The sociological analysts belie!e that a man is a product of the society and whate!er he writes must reflect his socio=political e$perience. ?rom this argument, the man himself is referred to as style. It is claimed that, it is a difficult to di!orce matter from manner, that is, no distinction can be made between what a writer writes and the way he writes it. " man0s writing will definitely re!eal his background. This definition is defecti!e in a way, some writers0 identities may not reflect in their writings. 7sgood defines style as norm and de!iation. " norm is the common practice or acceptable usage in language. It is what is permissible within the rules go!erning the use of language. ?or instance all human normal human beings ha!e two legs each. It is the norm and anything contrary to this is a deviation. 3e!iation is a departure from general order. It is the deliberate !iolation of the norms. R!ery use of figure of speech could be seen as de!iation. R$ample there is de!iation in the sentence5 +olourless green idea sleeps furiously. ?ollowing +homsky0s selectional criterion, the word 6sleep0 is de!iant and ungrammatical in the abo!e sentence because it selects an inanimate subject. Boreo!er ideas ha!e no colour. The contradiction usage ( colourless ( green is also a de!iation. The sentence is grammatical and it !iolates the rule of choice. The problem with this definition is that it is difficult to decide what the norm is. Is it the ordinary or the ele!ated usageJ "nother weakness is that not all te$ts are all literary de!iant. There are some poems which cannot be said to be de!iant. Generally, howe!er stylistics could be regarded as the domain for the study of te$t or discourse. There are two ways of looking at style and stylistics. They could be used in relation to analysis of literary te$t and this gi!es us what is known as linguistics stylistics and it has its own peculiar analytical procedures. Therefore, linguistics stylistics could be simply defined as the application of stylistics through the linguistics frames to the analysis of literary te$t. /tylistics in the words of Giddowson (8@;K ,is the study of literary discourse form a linguistics orientation. stylistics, conse-uently in!ol!es with literary criticism and linguistics. 3epending on which angle it is !iewed from, the choice of words !ariesH some say relationship between message and medium, content and form, matter and manner, what and how etc. in any case, both the content and form ha!e some stylistics significance. /econdly, there is the style of stylistics in relation to peculiar use of language and the analytical procedure here leads us to what is popular known as language !arieties in a circle of language e$perts. P&inci$les #+ St(listics There are three major principles of stylistics they are5 foregrounding, @orm and Deviation. Ge shall begin to e$plain them one after the other. F#&e&#)ndin This term was first used by a man called Ian Bulcano!sky. *y the way, foregrounding refers to the factors of deviating from linguistic and literary norms. 3e!iation itself is a de< automati-ation of familiar linguistic and literary pattern. It means there are certain words we use e!eryday as if automatic. ?oregrounding will then do re!ersal i.e. de=automatize such automatic words, e.g. Qni!ersity students are unbeautiful. "gain foregrounding is used to thematize certain words or linguistic item. In this case, a structure or words foregrounded ac-uire prominence or significance in a te$t as a result of making use of certain aspect of the language. Thus, if a writer or a speaker fre-uently uses adjecti!es that indicate or suggest !ibrancy, and analyst would see this as an attempt to mimic or ape a particular situation being described or presented. In similar manner, the prepondance of le$ical item may be deployed to paint an atmosphere of serenity or calmness. In the same !ein, sounds can be repeatedly use for the same purpose. It should be noted that there are two forms of foregrounding. They are5 8. 3e!iational foregrounding ). <on=de!iational foregrounding The non=de!iational type of foregrounding is a structure that ac-uires a prominent significance in a te$t as a result of making use of certain aspect of language. R$ample is such a systematic repeatedLor prepondent manner that attracts the attention of a readerH Dr /atunsi is a lion<hearted chief, Dr /atunsi is a dogged fighter who never discourages until victory is attempted, Dr* /atunsi DD, Dr /atunsi l.., whereas, the de!iational type draws its own attraction if the readers attention is drawn by a way of !iolating the rules and norms of the pattern. In foregrounding there is also what is called prominence* Bichael Halliday obser!es that foregrounding is prominence that is moti!ated. /o we can ha!e motivated and unmotivated prominence. It is the moti!ated prominence that goes with foregrounding. If a linguistic item is moti!ated we say it is significant for meaning and if not, it is not significant for meaning. Therefore, before a particular itemLunit can be considered as foregrounding, it needs to be firstly analyzed so as to find out the norms in order to disco!er a prominence or foregrounded structure. 1e$ical items can only be foregrounded. N#&ms <orm is an established pattern within a te$t. The norm of language as a whole is solely concerned with linguistic le!els of language, such as the grammar, phonology, le$ical structure and graphology. There are different types of norms. They are5 Ceneral norm, authorian norm and le(ical norm. 8. 0eneral nor$: This means in effect when writing we must obser!e the norms that relate to that type of te$t. If you are writing a poem, certain norms must be obser!ed e.g. using !erses, starting each line with capital letter, rhyming pattern especially in con!entional writing. The /onnets has a norm that it has to be fourteen lines di!ided into octa!e and sestet. In drama, we ha!e characters engaging in dialogue, the dialogue may be spoken or unspoken. ). Authorian nor$: This is the norm the author has created by himself. R$ample is e e cummings does not use capital letter at all and he does not use punctuation marks. George *ernard /haw has his own norms and one of such is his lengthy stage directions which can go into stages before the real action. %. Le%ical nor$: This is a situation where a writer creates a norm for himself in a particular work. It is almost the same as authorial norm. It has to do with the way the writer uses words. De"i'ti#n 3e!iation is the breaking of rules which others obey. #oetry as a genre is a de!iation from the ordinary language, though, despite the poetic de!iation, poetry skill has its own rules and norms which separate it from ordinary language and therefore creates its own pattern. In literary circle, de!iation is taken as poetic license or writer0s license and it should be noted that de!iation could occur at !arious linguistic le!el. Ge can ha!e grammatical le(ical, phonological, semantic and te(tual deviation. "t the graphological deviational level, we focus on the breaking of rules relating to punctuation marks on starting a proper name with a small letter e.g. e e cumming’s work5 ,spoke joe to jack lea!e her alone she is not your gal. "t the le!el of phonology, de!iation can also occur when you use the sound patterns of language which de!iate from the ordinary language sound patterns. It may be to attract attention e.g. instead of girl, you say gal* Rhyme scheme can also be a form of de!iation from the ordinary language e.g. Rime of the ancient mariner by /amuel Taylor +oleridge. Le(ical deviation (= "t the le$ical le!el, de!iation occur when a word is o!er=used in a line or when there is collocation clash or when a strange le$ical item is brought in. ?or e$ample, the item or le$ical item such as 6allow0, 6pirate0 are peculiar to a particular setting and are used in de!iation to the normal use of the word. 3e!iation can be in form of introduction of new words into the language e.g. #8f you like her so much why don’t you 9kuku’ marry himE, #se you hear herE* Ghat happen here is called macaronism which means put in more than one language. The de!iation could be grammatical i.e. de!iating from the rule of the grammar of a language e.g. instead of saying ,Bad don. you say ,3on mad.. This is for the purpose of the matization. This grammatical de!iation is also called syntactic de!iation. &emantic deviation operates at the le!el of meaning e.g. ,Three hearty cheers to our eighty year "biku.. The de!iation here is semantic because an "biku is not supposed to li!e that long (&4 years. Ge also ha!e dialectal de!iation e.g. if you put the dialect of "kure into the mouth of a Hausa, then there is a dialectual de!iation. /ome people cannot articulate well such speech sounds as L/L Lt/L. This is pro!incial. F)ncti#n'l St(les 1anguage means which we choose for communication depend on se!eral factors, the most important among them being the situation of the communication act. Indeed, depending on the situation (which includes the purpose of the communication and its participants we adhere either to informal or to formal manner. The former is obser!ed in e!eryday non= official communication which is known as collouial speech. +ollo-uial speech occupies a prominent place in our li!es, and is !iewed by some linguists as a system of language means so strongly differing from those presented in the formal (literary communication that it can be classified as an independent entity with its own peculiar units and rules of their structuring. "ccording to I. 2. Galperin5 functional style is a system of interrelated language means ser!ing a definite aim in communication. It is the coordination of the language means and stylistic de!ices which shapes the distincti!e features of each style and not the language means or stylistic de!ices themsel!es. Rach style, howe!er, can be recognized by one or more leading features which are especially conspicuous. ?or instance the use of special terminology is a le$ical characteristics of the style of scientific prose, and one by which it can easily be recognized. The literary communication, most often (but not always materialized in the written form, is not homogeneous, and proceeding from its function (purpose we speak of different functional styles. "s the whole of the language itself, functional styles are also changeable. Their -uantity and -uality change in the course of their de!elopment. "t present most scholars differentiate such functional styles5 scientific, official, publicist, newspaper, belles< lettres. !unctional Styles (1- '- Screbne+) ?ormal Informal literary collo-uial familiar collo-uial low collo-uial #ublicist /cientific 7ratory 7fficial <ewspaper Styles !unctions Co$$unicat i+e ,olun2 tati+e E$oti+e Phatic Aesthetic 8. 7ratory ). +ollo-uial %. #oetic '. #ublicist and newspaper K. 7fficial :. /cientific q q q q q q q q = q q = q q q q = = q q = = = = q = q = = Stylistic !unctions 8. +ommunicati!e ( i.e. communicating some primary information ). The former method allows direct interpretation. ,/ Aoluntati!e (conati!e ( e$pressing one0s intention, urging people to some kind of action. R$.5 ,Inform us of your intentionse. 3/ #hatic ( attracting somebody0s attention to make the situation natural ,I say, you know that l. ./ "esthetic ( appealing to people0s heart, deri!ing the effect of beauty and emotional response. ,Tired with all these, for restful death I crye. !unctional Styles (I- R- 0-) *elles 1etters #ublicist <ewspaper /cientific /tyle of 7fficial 3ocuments A unctional style of language is a system of interrelated language means which ser!es a definite aim in communication. In the Rnglish literary standard Galperin distinguishes the following major functional styles (?/5 belles<lettresF publicist literatureF newspaperF scientific proseF official documents. &cientific style is employed in professional communication. Its most conspicuous feature is the abundance of terms denoting objects, phenomena and processes characteristic of some particular field of science and techni-ue. /cientific style is also known for its precision, clarity and logical cohesion which is responsible for the repeated use of such clich>s as5 6#roceeding from...0H 6"s it was said abo!e...0H 6In connection with..0 and other le$ico=syntactical forms emphasizing the logical connection and interdependence of consecuti!e parts of the discourse. ?fficial style, or the style of official documents, is the most conser!ati!e one. It preser!es cast=iron forms of structuring and uses syntactical constructions and words long known as archaic and not obser!ed anywhere else. "ddressing documents and official letters, signing them, e$pressing the reasons and considerations leading to the subject of the document (letter == all this is strictly regulated both le$ically and syntactically. "ll emoti!eness and subjecti!e modality are completely banned out of this style. 0ublicist style is a perfect e$ample of the historical changeability of stylistic differentiation of discourses. In ancient Greece, e.g., it was practised mainly in its oral form and was best known as oratoric style, within which !iews and sentiments of the addresser (orator found their e$pression. <owadays political, ideological, ethical, social beliefs and statements of the addresser are pre!ailingly e$pressed in the written form, which was labelled publicist in accordance with the name of the corresponding genre and its practitioners. #ublicist style is famous for its e$plicit pragmatic function of persuasion directed at influencing the reader and shaping his !iews, in accordance with the argumentation of the author. +orrespondingly, we find in publicist style a blend of the rigorous logical reasoning, reflecting the objecti!e state of things, and a strong subjecti!ity reflecting the author0s personal feelings and emotions towards the discussed subject. @ewspaper style, as it is e!ident from its name, is found in newspapers. ]ou should not conclude though that e!erything published in a newspaper should be referred to the newspaper style. The paper contains !astly !arying materials, some of them being publicist essaysH some feature articles, some scientific re!iews, some official stock=e$change accounts etc., so that a daily (weekly newspaper also offers a !ariety of styles. Ghen we mention 6newspaper style0, we mean informati!e materials, characteristic of newspaper only and not found in other publications. To attract the reader0s attention to the news, special graphical means are used. *ritish and "merican papers are notorious for the change of type, specific 1g. of Rmoti!e #rose 1g. of 3rama 1g. of #oetry headlines, space ordering, etc. Ge find here a large proportion of dates and personal names of countries, territories, institutions, indi!iduals. To achie!e the effect of objecti!ity and impartiality in rendering some fact or e!ent, most of the newspaper information is published anonymously, without the name of the newsman who supplied it, with little or no subjecti!e modality. *ut the position and attitude of the paper, nonetheless, become clear from the choice not only of the subject=matter but also of the words denoting international or domestic issues. )elles<lettres style or the style of imaginati!e literature may be called the richest register of communication5 besides its own language means which are not used in any other sphere of communication, belles=lettres style makes ample use of other styles too, for in numerous works of literary art we find elements of scientific, official and other functional types of speech. *esides informati!e and persuasi!e functions, also found in other functional styles, the belles=lettres style has a uni-ue task to impress the reader aesthetically. The form becomes meaningful and carries additional information. *oundless possibilities of e$pressing one0s thoughts and feelings make the belles=lettres style a highly attracti!e field of research for a linguist. /peaking of belles=lettres style most scholars almost automatically refer to it prose works, regarding poetry the domain of a special poetic style. Aiewed diachronically this opinion does not seem contro!ersial, for poems of pre!ious centuries, indeed, adhered to a !ery specific !ocabulary and its ordering. *ut poetry of the twentieth century does not show much difference from prose !ocabulary, its subjects are no more limited to se!eral specific 6poetic0 fields but widely co!er practically all spheres of e$istence of contemporary man. /o it is hardly rele!ant to speak of a separate poetic style in reference to contemporary literature. The *elles2Lettres Style3 its Sub2styles and its Peculiarities (I. 2. Galperin5 The term ,*elles=lettres. is generic for three sub=styles5 • poetryH • emoti!e proseH and • drama. The *elles=lettres style has its own specific function which is double(phoned. *esides, informing the reader, it impresses the reader aesthetically. Its function is aesthetic and cogniti!e, cogniti!e on the one hand and recei!ing pleasure on the other. The language means of this functional style are5 8. Genuine (not trite imagery. ). +onte$tual (connotati!e meaning pre!ailing o!er denotation. ,/ The indi!idual choice of !ocabulary which reflects the author0s personal e!aluationH '. 1e$ical and syntactical idiosyncrasy. " peculiar indi!idual selection of synta$ and le$isH K. The introduction of elements of other styles. :. +ollo-uial language (in drama. The Language o Poetry. Its peculiarities are rhythm and rhyme. "s an /3 rhythm is a combination of the ideal metrical scheme and its !ariations go!erned by the standard. (/ee #honographic 1e!el of stylistic analysis THR /IO=XQ"2T *"/FRT The si$=-uart basket 7ne side gone Half the handle torn off /its in the centre of the lawn "nd slowly fills up Gith the white fruits of the snow E$oti+e prose. Rmoti!e prose is a combination of literary and collo-uial !ariants of the language, being presented by the speech of the characters which is stylized that means it has been made ,literature like. and some elements of con!ersational Rnglish were made use of. Rmoti!e prose allows the use of elements of other styles but the author changes them and fulfils a certain function. The sub=style of emoti!e prose makes use of different RB and /3, represented speech, detached constructions, gap ( sentence link, etc. (Types of narration The Language o &ra$a is the language of plays mainly consisting of dialogues. The author0s speech is in the form of stage remarks. "ny presentation of a play is an aesthetic procedure. The language of a play has the following peculiarities5 • it is stylized (retains the modus of literary RnglishH • it presents the !ariety of spoken languageH • it has redundancy of information caused by necessity to amplify the utteranceH • monologues are ne!er interruptedH • characters0 utterances are much longer than in ordinary con!ersation. Hence, the first thing to be said about the parameters of this !ariety of belles=lettres is that the language of plays is entirely dialogue. The author0s speech is almost entirely e$cluded, e$cept for the playwright0s remarks and stage directions. The degree to which the norms of ordinary collo-uial language are con!erted into those of the language of plays, that is, the degree to which the spoken language is made literary !aries at different periods in the de!elopment of drama and depends also on the idiosyncrasies of the playwright himself. "ny presentation of a play is an aesthetic procedure and the language of plays is of the type which is meant to be reproduced. Therefore e!en the language of a play appro$imates that of a real dialogue, it will none the less be stylized. The belles<lettres style rests on certain indispensable linguistic features which are5 8. Genuine, not trite, imagery, achie!ed by purely linguistic de!ices. ). The use of words in conte$tual and !ery often in more than one dictionary meaning, or at least greatly influenced by the le$ical en!ironment. ,/ " !ocabulary which will reflect to a greater or lesser degree the author 0s personal e!aluation of things or phenomena. '. " peculiar indi!idual selection of !ocabulary and synta$, a kind of le$ical and syntactical idiosyncrasy. K. The introduction of the typical features of collo-uial language to a full degree (in plays or lesser one (in emoti!e prose or a slight degree, if any (in poems. The 'ssay is a literary composition of moderate length on philosophical, social, aesthetic or literary subjects. It is characterized by personality in the treatment of the theme and naturalness of e$pression. The most characteristic language features are5 8. *re!ity of e$pression, epigrammaticalness. ). The use of the 8st person. %. The e$tended use of connecti!es to facilitate the correlation of ideas. '. The abundant use of emoti!e words. ./ The use of similes and metaphors. ,7h, the conductorse Ghen I was a boy, massi!e old 2ichter commanding the old massi!e Hale orchestrae l Ghy, my dear maestros, in spite of wars, bombs, ta$es, rubbish and all, what a delight it has been to share this world and this age with youe. The essay is !ery subjecti!e and the most collo-uial of the all sub=styles of the publicist style. It makes use of e$pressi!e means and tropes. ?ratorical style is the oral subdi!ision of the publicistic style. 3irect contact with the listeners permits the combination of the syntactical, le$ical and phonetic peculiarities of both the written and spoken !arieties of language. +ertain typical features of the spoken !ariety of speech present in this style are5 direct address to the audience (ladies and gentlemen, honourable member(s, the use of the )nd person pronoun you, etc., sometimes constractions (8’ll, won’t, haven’t, isn’t and others and the use of collo-uial words. The stylistic de!ices employed in oratorical style are determined by the conditions of communication. 2epetition can be regarded as the most typical stylistic de!ice of Rnglish oratorical style. "lmost any piece of oratory will ha!e parallel constructions, antithesis, suspense, clima$, rhetorical -uestions and -uestions=in=the=narrati!e. Irrespecti!e of the character of the magazine and the di!ergence of subject matter ( whether it is political, literary, popular=scientific or satirical, all the features of publistic style are to be found in any article. The character of the magazine as well as the subject chosen affects the choice and use of stylistic de!ices. There are popular scientific articles, satirical articles, political magazine articles, newspaper articles, etc. 1iterary re!iews stand closer to essay both by their content and by their linguistic form. Bore abstract words of logical meaning are used in them, they more often resort to emotional language and less fre-uently to traditional set e$pressions. Ne!s$'$e& St(le Rnglish newspaper style may be defined as a system of interrelated le$ical, phraseological and grammatical means which is percei!ed by the community speaking the language as a separate unity that basically ser!es the purpose of informing and instructing the reader. /ince the primary function of newspaper style is to impart information, only printed matter ser!ing this purpose comes under newspaper style proper. /uch matter can be classed as5 8. brief news items and communi-u>sH ). press reports (parliamentary, of court proceedings, etc.H %. articles purely informational in characterH '. ad!ertisements and announcements. The most concise form of newspaper informational is the headline. The headlines of news items, apart from gi!ing information about the subject=matter, also carry a considerable amount of appraisal (the size and arrangement of the headline, the use of emotionally coloured words and elements of emoti!e synta$, thus indicating the interpretation of the facts in the news item that follows. a) *rie ne#s ite$s The function of a brief news item is to inform the reader. It states only facts without gi!ing comments. <ewspaper style has its specific !ocabulary features and is characterized by an e$tensi!e use of5 8. special political and economic termsH ). non=term political !ocabularyH %. newspaper clich>H '. abbre!iationsH K. neologisms. The following grammatical peculiarities of brief news items are of paramount importance, and may be regarded as grammatical parameters of newspaper style5 8. comple$ sentences with a de!eloped system of clausesH ). !erbal constructionsH %. syntactical comple$esH '. attributi!e noun groupsH K. specific word order. b) The headline The headline is the title gi!en to a news item of a newspaper article. The main function of the headline is to inform the reader briefly of what the news that follows is about. /yntactically headlines are !ery short sentences or phrases of a !ariety of patterns5 8. full declarati!e sentencesH ). interrogati!e sentencesH %. nominati!e sentencesH '. elliptical sentencesH K. sentences with articles omittedH :. phrases with !erbalsH ;. -uestions in the forms of statementsH &. comple$ sentencesH @. headlines including direct speech. c) Ad+ertise$ents and announce$ents The function of ad!ertisement and announcement is to inform the reader. There are two basic types of ad!ertisements and announcements in the modern Rnglish newspaper5 classified and non=classified (separate. In classified ad!ertisements and announcements !arious kinds of information are arranged according to subject=matter into sections, each bearing an appropriate name. "s for the separate ad!ertisements and announcements, the !ariety of language form and subject=matter is so great that hardly any essential features common to all be pointed out. d) The editorial Rditorials are an intermediate phenomenon bearing the stamp of both the newspaper style and the publistic style. The function of the editorial is to influence the reader by gi!ing an interpretation of certain facts. Rmotional colouring in editorial articles is also achie!ed with the help of !arious stylistic de!ices (especially metaphors and epithets, both le$ical and syntactical, the use of which is largely traditional. e) Scientiic prose style The language of science is go!erned by the aim of the functional style of scientific prose, which is to pro!e a hypothesis, to create new concepts, to disclose the internal laws of e$istence, de!elopment, relations between different phenomena, etc. There are following characteristic features of scientific style5 8. the logical se-uence of utterancesH ). the use of terms specific to each gi!en branch of scienceH %. so=called sentence=patterns. They are of three types5 postulatory, argumentati!e and formulati!e. '. the use of -uotations and referencesH K. the fre-uent use of foot=note, of the reference kind, but digressi!e in character. The impersonality of scientific writings can also be considered a typical feature of this style. ?inishing this brief outline of functional styles obser!ed in modern Rnglish, it is necessary to stress, again, two points. The first one concerns the dichotomy == written5 oral, which is not synonymous to the dichotomy literary5 collo-uial, the former opposition meaning the form of presentation, the latter == the choice of language means. There are collo-uial messages in the written form (such as personal letters, informal notes, diaries and journals and !ice !ersa5 we ha!e e$amples of literary discourses in the oral form (as in a recital, lecture, report, paper read at a conference etc.. The second point deals with the fle$ibility of style boundaries5 the borders within which a style presumably functions are not rigid and allow !arious degrees of o!erlapping and melting into each other. It is not accidental that rather often we speak of intermediate cases such as the popular scientific style which combines the features of scientific and belles=lettres styles, or the style of new 4ournalism which is a combination of publicist, newspaper and belles=lettres styles etc. The S)01ect 'nd O01ect #+ St(listics The subject of stylistics can be outlined as the study of the nature, functions and structure of stylistic de!ices, on the one hand, and, on the other, the study of each style of language as classified, its aim, its structure, its characteristic features and the effect it produces, as well as its interrelation with other styles of language. The task we set before oursel!es is to make an attempt to single out such, problems as are typically stylistic and cannot be treated in any other branch of linguistic science. Rnglish language as being di!ided into three main layers5 the literary layer, the neutral layer and the collo-uial layer. The literary and the collo-uial layers contain a number of subgroups each of which has a property it shares with all the subgroups within the layer. This common property, which unites the different groups of words within the layer, may be called its aspect. The aspect of the literary layer is its markedly bookish character. It is this that makes the layer more or less stable. The aspect of the collo-uial layer of words is its li!ely spoken character. It is this that makes it unstable, fleeting. The aspect of the neutral layer is its uni!ersal character. That means it is unrestricted in its use. It can be employed in all styles of language and in all spheres of human acti!ity. The literary layer of words consists of groups accepted as legitimate members of the Rnglish !ocabulary. They ha!e no local or dialectal character. The collo-uial layer of words as -ualified in most Rnglish or "merican dictionaries is not infre-uently limited to a definite language community or confine to a special locality where it circulates. There are two basic objects of stylistics5 • special linguistic means (stylistic de!ices and e$pressi!e means which secure the desirable effect of the utteranceH • certain types of te$ts ,discourse. which due to the choice and arrangement of the language are distinguished by the pragmatic aspect of communication (functional styles. Sem'ntic'l St&)ct)&e #+ P#l(sem'ntic W#&ds #olysemy is characteristic of most words in many languages. "ll the le$ical and le$ico=grammatical !ariants of a word taken together form its semantic structure or semantic paradigm. Thus, in the semantic structure of the word youth three le$ico=grammatical !ariants may be distinguished5 the first is an abstract uncountable noun, as in the friends of one0s youth, the second is a countable personal noun 6a young man0 (plural youths that can be substituted by the pronoun he in the singular and they in the pluralH the third a collecti!e noun 6young men and women0 ha!ing only one form, that of the singular, substituted by the pronoun they. Githin the first le$ico=grammatical !ariant two shades of meaning can be distinguished with two different referents, one denoting the state of being young, and the other the time of being young. These shades of meaning are recognized due to the le$ical peculiarities of distribution and sometimes are blended together as in to feel that one’s youth has gone, where both the time and the state can be meant. These !ariants form a structured set because they are e$pressed by the same sound comple$ and are interrelated in meaning as they all contain the semantic component 6young0 and can be e$plained by means of one another. 7ther oppositions are concrete5 abstractH mainL primary5 secondaryH central5 periphericH narrow5 e$tendedH general5 specialLparticular, and so on. In each case the comparison takes place within the semantic structure of one word. They are characterized one against the other. Take, for e$ample, the noun screen. Ge find it in its direct meaning when it names a mo!able piece of furniture used to hide something or protect somebody, as in the case of fire<screen placed in front of a fireplace. The meaning is figurati!e when the word is applied to anything which protects by hiding, as in smoke screen. Ge define this meaning as figurati!e comparing it to the first that we called direct. "gain, when by a screen the speaker means 6a sil!er=coloured sheet on which !ocabulary as compared with 2ussian, due to the monosyllabic character of Rnglish and the predominance of root words. The greater the relati!e fre-uency of the word, the greater the number of !ariants that constitute its semantic structure, i.e. the more polysemantic it is. This regularity is of course a statistical, not a rigid one. +onsider some of the !ariants of a !ery fre-uent, and conse-uently polysemantic word run. Ge define the main !ariant as 6to go by mo!ing the legs -uickly0 as in5 Tired as I was, 8 began to run frantically home. The le$ical meaning does not change in the forms ran or running. The basic meaning may be e$tended to inanimate things5 L caught the bus that runs between + and )H or the word run may be used figurati!ely5 8t makes the blood run cold. *oth the components 6on foot0 and 6-uickly0 are suppressed in these two last e$amples, as well as in The car runs on petrol* The idea of motion remains but it is reduced to 6operate or function0. The difference of meaning is reflected in the difference of syntactic !alency. It is impossible to use this !ariant about humans and say5 n!e humans run on food. The acti!e= passi!e transformation is possible when the meaning implies 6management05 The +o<op runs this self<service shop, This self<service shop is run by the +o<op, but GB was run by home is obviously nonsense. R!ery meaning in language and e!ery difference in meaning is signalled either by the form of the word itself or by conte$t, i.e. its syntagmatic relations depending on the position in the spoken chain. The unity of the two facets of a linguistic sign == its form and its content in the case of a polysemantic word == is kept in its le$ico=grammatical !ariant. If the !ariants are classified not only by comparing them inside the semantic structure of the word but according to the style and sphere of language in which they may occur, if they ha!e stylistic connotations, the classification is stylistic. "ll the words are classified into stylistically neutral and stylistically coloured. The latter may be classified into bookish and collo-uial, bookish styles in their turn may be (a general, (b poetical, (c scientific or learned, while collo-uial styles are subdi!ided into (a literary collo-uial, (b familiar collo-uial, (c slang. If we are primarily interested in the historical perspecti!e, the meanings will be classified according to their genetic characteristic and their growing or diminishing role in the language. In this way the following terms are used5 etymological, i.e. the earliest known meaningH archaic, i.e. the meaning superseded at present by a newer one but still remaining in certain collocationsH obsolete, gone out of useH present=day meaning, which is the one most fre-uent in the present=day language and the original meaning ser!ing as basis for the deri!ed ones. It is !ery important to pay attention to the fact that one and the same meaning can at once belong, in accordance with different points, to different groups. These features of meaning may therefore ser!e as distincti!e features describing each meaning in its relationship to the others. Diachronic and synchronic ties are thus closely interconnected as the new meanings are understood thanks to their moti!ation by the older meanings. Chapter No: 00 RHETORIC FOCUS ON • *hetoric The academic discipline of stylistics is a twentieth=century in!ention. /ince it is the purpose of this book to describe the aims and methods of stylistics, we will begin by considering its relationship with its most notable predecessorkrhetoric. The term is deri!ed from the Greek techne rhetorike, the art of speech, an art concerned with the use of public speaking as a means of persuasion. The inhabitants of Homer 0s epics e$ploit and, more significantly, acknowledge the capacity of language to affect and determine nonlinguistic e!ents, but it was not until the fifth century *+ that the Greek settlers of /icily began to study, document and teach rhetoric as a practical discipline. The best=known names are +ora$ and Tisias who found that, in an island beset with political and judicial disagreements o!er land and ci!il rights, the art of persuasion was a useful and profitable profession. Gorgias, one of their pupils, !isited "thens as ambassador and he is generally regarded as the person responsible for piloting rhetoric beyond its judicial function into the spheres of philosophy and literary studies. Isocrates was the first to e$tend and promote the moral and ethical benefits of the art of speech, and one of #lato0s earliest /ocratic dialogues bears the name Gorgias. It is with #lato that we encounter the most significant moment in the early history of rhetoric. In the #haedrus #latoL/ocrates states that unless a man pays due attention to philosophy 6he will ne!er be able to speak properly about anything0 ():8 ". 6" real art of speakinglwhich does not seize hold of truth, does not e$ist and ne!er will0 ():4 R. Ghat concerned #lato was the fact that rhetoric was a de!ice without moral or ethical subject matter. In the Gorgias he records an e$change between /ocrates and Gorgias in which the former claims that persuasion is comparable with flattery, cooking and medicine5 it meets bodily needs and satisfies physical and emotional desires. 2hetoric, he argues, is not an 6art0 but a 6routine0, and such a routine, if allowed to take hold of our primary communicati!e medium, will promote di!ision, ambition and self= aggrandizement at the e$pense of collecti!e truth and wisdom, the principal subjects of philosophy. #lato himself, particularly in the #haedrus, does not go so far as to suggest the banning of rhetoricH rather he argues that it must be codified as subser!ient to the philosopher0s search for truth. "ristotle in his 2hetoric (c. %%4 *+ produced the first counter=blast to #lato0s anti= rhetoric thesis. 2hetoric, argues "ristotle, is an art, a necessary condition of philosophical debate. To percei!e the same fact or argument dressed in different linguistic forms is not immoral or dangerous. /uch a recognitionkthat words can -ualify or unsettle a single pre= linguistic truthkis part of our intellectual training, !ital to any purposi!e reconciliation of appearance and reality. "ristotle meets the claim that rhetoric is socially and politically dangerous with the counterclaim that the persuasi!e power of speech is capable of pre= empting and superseding the !iolent physical manifestations of subjection and defence. The #lato="ristotle e$change is not so much about rhetoric as an illustration of the di!isi!e nature of rhetoric. It is replayed, with largely "ristotelian preferences, in the work of the two most prominent 2oman rhetoricians, +icero and XuintilianH it emerges in the writings of /t "ugustine and in #eter 2amus0s 3ialecti-ue (8KKK, one of the founding moments in the re!i!al of classical rhetoric during the Ruropean 2enaissance. Bost significantly, it operates as the theoretical spine which links rhetoric with modern stylistics, and stylistics in turn with those other constituents of the contemporary discipline of humanities5 linguistics, structuralism and poststructuralism. #lato and "ristotle did not disagree on what rhetoric isH their conflicts originated in the problematical relationship between language and truth. 2hetoric, particularly in 2ome and in post=2enaissance education, had been taught as a form of super=grammar. It pro!ides us with names and practical e$planations of the de!ices by which language enables us to perform the !arious tasks of persuading, con!incing and arguing. In an ideal world ("ristotle0s thesis these tasks will be conduci!e to the personal and the collecti!e good. The rhetorician will know the truth, and his linguistic strategies will be employed as a means of disclosing the truth. In the real world (#lato0s thesis rhetoric is a weapon used to bring the listener into line with the argument which happens to satisfy the interests or personal affiliations of the speaker, neither of which will necessarily correspond with the truth. These two models of rhetorical usage are e-ually !alid and finally irreconcilable. 1ies, fabrications, e$aggerations are facts of language, but they can only be cited when the fissure between language and truth is pro!able. ?or e$ample, if I were to tell you that I am a personal friend of "ristotle, known facts will be sufficient to con!ince you (unless you are a spiritualist that I am not telling the truth. Howe!er, a statement such as, 6"ristotle speaks to me of the general usefulness of rhetoric0 is acceptable because it in!ol!es the use of a familiar rhetorical de!ice (generally termed catachresis, the misuse or mis=application of a term5 "ristotle does not literally speak to me, but my use of the term to imply that his written words in!ol!e the sincerity or the immediate rele!ance of speech is sanctioned by rhetorical=stylistic con!ention. Ghat I ha!e done is to use a linguistic de!ice to distort prelinguistic truth and to achie!e an emoti!e effect at the same time. By reason for doing so would be to gi!e a supplementary persuasi!e edge to the specifics of my argument about the !alidity of "ristotle0s thesis. /uch de!ices are part of the fabric of e!eryday linguistic e$change and, assuming that the hearer is as con!ersant as the speaker with the con!entions of this rhetorical game, they are not, in #lato0s terms, immoral or dishonest. *ut for #lato such innocuous e$amples were merely a symptom of the much more serious conse-uences of rhetorical infection. The fact that "ristotle li!ed more than two millennia before me cannot be disputed, but the fabric of intellectual acti!ity and its linguistic manifestation is only partly comprised of concrete facts. Borality, the e$istence of God, the nature of justice5 all of these correspond with the !erifiable specifics of human e$istence, but our opinions about them cannot be !erified in direct relation to these specifics. The common medium shared by the abstract and the concrete dimensions of human e$perience is language and, as a conse-uence, language functions as the battleground for the tendentious acti!ity of making the known correspond with the unknown, that speculati!e element of human e$istence that underpins all of our beliefs about the nature of truth, justice, politics and beha!iour. #lato and "ristotle named the conditions of this conflict as dianoia and pragmata (thought and facts, otherwise known as res or content and le(is and ta(is (word choice and arrangement, otherwise known as verba or form, and the distinction raises two major problems that will occupy much of our attention throughout this book. ?irst of all it can be argued that to make a distinction between languagekin this instance the rhetorical organization of languagekand the pre=linguistic continuum of thought, objects and e!ents in!ol!es a fundamental error. Githout language our e$perience of anything is almost e$clusi!ely internalized and pri!ate5 we can, of course, make physical gestures, non=linguistic sounds or draw pictures, but these do not come close to the !ast and comple$ network of signs and meanings shared by language users. The most important conse-uence of this condition of language dependency is that we can ne!er be certain whether the pri!ate world, the set of pri!ate e$periences or beliefs, that language enables us to mediate is, as #lato and "ristotle argue, entirely independent of its medium. The go!erning precondition for any e$change of !iews about the nature of e$istence and truthka process perfectly illustrated by #lato0s /ocratic dialogueskis that language allows us to disclose the true nature of pre=linguistic fact. Howe!er, for such an e$change to take place at all each participant must submit to an impersonal system of rules and con!entions. *efore any disagreement regarding a fact or a principle can occur the combatants must first ha!e agreed upon the relation between the factLprinciple and its linguistic enactment. "n atheist and a +hristian will ha!e totally di!ergent perceptions of the nature of human e$istence, but both will know what the word 6God0 means. The twentieth=century alternati!e to "ristotle0s and #lato0s distinction between dianoiaBpragmata and le(isBta(is has been pro!ided by ?erdinand de /aussure, a turn=of=the century linguist whose influence upon modern ideas about language and reality has become immeasurable. /aussure0s most -uoted and influential propositions concern his distinction between the signified and the signifier and his pronouncement that 6in language there are only differences without positi!e terms0. The signifier is the concrete linguistic sign, spoken or written, and the signified is the concept represented by the sign. " third element is the referent, the pre=linguistic object or condition that stands beyond the signifierB signified relationship. This tripartite function is, to say the least, unsteady. The atheist and the +hristian will share a largely identical conception of the relation between 6God0 (signifier and 6God0 (signified but the atheist will regard this as a purely linguistic state, a fiction sustained by language, but without a referent. ?or such an indi!idual the signifier God relates not to a specific signified and referent, but to other signifiers and signifieds k concepts of good and bad, eternity, omniscience, omnipotence, the whole network of signs which enables +hristian belief to intersect with other elements of the human condition. In /aussure0s terms, the signified 6God0 is sustained by the differential relationship between itself and other words and concepts, and this will o!erride its correspondence with a 6positi!e term0 (the referent. #lato and "ristotle shared the premise that it is dangerous and immoral to talk about something that does not e$ist, and that it is the duty of the philosopher to disclose such improper fissures between language and its referent. /aussure0s model of language poses a threat to this ideal by raising the possibility that facts and thoughts might, to an e$tent, be constructs of the system of language. The relation between classical philosophyLrhetoric and /aussurean linguistics is far more complicated than our brief comparison might suggest, but it is certain that /aussure makes e$plicit elements of the di!isi!e issue of whether rhetoric is a potentially dangerous practice. "nd this leads us to a second problem5 the relationship between language and literature. #lato in The Republic has much to say about literaturekwhich at the time consisted of poetry in its dramatic or narrati!e forms. In *ook 84 an e$change takes place regarding the nature of imitation and representation5 the subject is ostensibly art, but the originary moti!e is as usual the determining of the nature of truth. *y the end of the dialogue /ocrates has established a parallel hierarchy of media and physical acti!ities. The carpenter makes the actual bed, but the idea or concept behind this act of creation is God0s. The painter is placed at the ne$t stage down in this creati!e hierarchy5 he can obser!e the carpenter making the bed and dutifully record this process. The poet, it seems, e$ists in a somewhat ambiguous relation to this column of originators, makers and imitators. #erhaps they hpoetsi may ha!e come across imitators and been decei!ed by themH they may not ha!e remembered when they saw their works that these were but imitations thrice remo!ed from the truth, and could easily be made without any knowledge of the truth, because they are appearances only and not realities. (8&&&5%8) In short, the poet is capable of unsettling the hierarchy which sustains the clear relation between appearance and reality. #oets, as "ristotle and #lato recognized, are pure rhetoricians5 they work within a kind of metalanguage which draws continuously upon the de!ices of rhetoric but which is not primarily in!ol!ed in the practical acti!ities of argument and persuasion. "s the abo!e -uote suggests, they mo!e disconcertingly through the !arious le!els of creation, imitation and deception, and as #lato made clear, such fickle mediators were not the most welcome inhabitants in a 2epublic founded upon a clear and unitary correspondence between appearance and reality. #lato0s designation of literature as a form which feeds upon the de!ices of more practical and purposi!e linguistic discourses, but whose function beyond a form of whimsical di!ersion is uncertain, has for two millenia been widely debated but has remained the dominant thesis. 3uring the Rnglish 2enaissance there was an outpouring of largely practical books on the proper use of rhetoric and rhetorical de!ices5 for e$ample 2. /herry0s A Treatise of &chemes and Tropes (8KK4, T. Gilson0s The Arte of Rhetoriue (8KK%, 2. 2ainolde0s A )ook +alled the /oundation of Rhetorike (8K:%, H. #eacham0s The Carden of 'louence (8K;; and G. #uttenham0s The Arte of 'nglish 0oesie (8K&@. These were aimed at users of literary and non=literary language, but a distinction was fre-uently made between the literary and the non=literary function of rhetoric. In George #uttenham0s The Arte of 'nglish 0oesie we find that there are specific regulations regarding the correspondence between literary style and subject (deri!ed chiefly from +icero0s distinction between the grand style, the middle style and the low, plain or simple style. The crossing of recommended style=subject borders was regarded as bad writing, but a far more serious offence would be committed if the most e$tra!agant rhetorical, and by implication literary, de!ices were transplanted into the serious realms of non=literary e$change. Betaphors or 6figures0 are, according to #uttenham, particularly dangerous. 6?or what else is your Betaphor but an in!ersion of sense by transportH your allegorie by a duplicitie of meaning or dissimulation under co!ert and darke intendments0 (8K&@58K&. Iudges, for e$ample, forbid such e$tra!agances because they distort the truth5 This no doubt is true and was by then gra!ely consideredH but in this case, because our maker or #oet is appointed not for a judge, but rather for a pleader, and that of pleasant and lo!ely causes and nothing perillous, such as be for the triall of life, limme, or li!elihoodlthey he$tra!agant metaphorsi are not in truth to be accompted !ices but for !ertues in them poetical science !ery commendable. (ibid.5 8:8 #oetry does of course in!ol!e 6perillous0 matters, but what #uttenham means is that the poetic function is not instrumental in acti!ities concerned with actual 6life, limme, or li!elihood0. "s a spokesman for the 2enaissance consensus #uttenham shows that the #latoL"ristotle debate regarding the dangers of rhetoric, especially in its literary manifestation, has been shel!ed rather than resol!ed5 in short, #uttenham argues that in literature it is permissible to distort reality because literature is safely detached from the type of discourse that might ha!e some purposi!e effect upon the real conditions of its participants. Ghat #uttenham said in 8K&@ remains true today5 literary and non=literary te$ts might share a number of stylistic features but literary te$ts do not belong in the same category of functional, purposi!e language as the judicial ruling or the theological tract. This begs a -uestion which modern stylistics, far more than rhetoric, has sought to address. How do we judge the difference between literary and non=literary discoursesJ Ge ha!e not finished with rhetoric, but in order to properly consider the two issues raised by itkthe relation between language and non=linguistic reality and the difference between literary and non=literary te$tskwe should now begin to e$amine its far more slippery and eclectic modern counterpart. Chapter No: 01 TE2T AND DISCOURSE FOCUS ON • The Nature o Te;t • The Nature o )iscourse • Te;tual and Conte;tual Meaning • The Conte;t o Literary )iscourse • The Communicati&e Situation in Literary )iscourse The N't)&e #+ Te3t Ghen we think of a te(t, we typically think of a stretch of language complete in itself and of some considerable e$tent5 a business letter, a leaflet, a news report, a recipe, and so on. Howe!er, though this !iew of te$ts may be commonsensical, there appears to be a problem when we ha!e to define units of language which consist of a single sentence, or e!en a single word, which are all the same e$perienced as te$ts because they fulfil the basic re-uirement of forming a meaningful whole in their own right. Typical e$amples of such small=scale te$ts are public notices like 6keep off the grass0, 6keep left0, 6keep out0, 6danger0, 6ramp ahead0, 6slow0 and 6e$it0. It is ob!ious that these minimal te$ts are meaningful in themsel!es, and therefore do not need a particular structural patterning with other language units. In other words, they are complete in terms of communicati!e meaning. /o, if the meaningfulness of te$ts does not depend on their linguistic size, what else does it depend onJ +onsider the road sign 6ramp ahead0. Ghen you are dri!ing a car and see this sign, you interpret it as a warning that there will be a small hump on the road ahead of you and that it is therefore wise to slow down when you dri!e o!er it. ?rom this it follows that you recognize a piece of language as a te$t, not because of its length, but because of its location in a particular conte$t. "nd if you are familiar with the te$t in that conte$t, you know what the message is intended to be. *ut now suppose you see the same road sign in the collection of a sou!enir=huntere 7f course, you still know the original meaning of the sign, but because of its dissociation from its ordinary conte$t of traffic control, you are no longer able to act on its original intention. ?urthermore, prompted by its alien situational conte$t, you might be tempted to think up some odd meaning for the otherwise familiar sign, particularly when you see it in relation to other 6sou!enirs0 in the collection. (<eedless to say, this is probably e$actly what the sou!enir=hunter wants you to do. ?rom this e$ample of alienation of conte$t we can then conclude that, for the e$pression of its meaning, a te$t is dependent on its use in an appropriate conte$t. The N't)&e #+ Disc#)&se Ge may go e!en further and assert that the meaning of a te(t does not come into being until it is acti!ely employed in a conte(t of use. This process of acti!ation of a te(t by relating it to a conte(t of use is what we call discourse. To put it differently, this conte$tualization of a te$t is actually the reader0s (and in the case of spoken te$t, the hearer0s reconstruction of the writer0s (or speaker0s intended message, that is, his or her communicati!e act or discourse. In these terms, the te$t is the obser!able product of the writer0s or speaker0s discourse, which in turn must be seen as the process that has created it. +learly, the obser!ability of a te$t is a matter of degree5 for e$ample, it may be in some written form, or in the form of a sound recording, or it may be unrecorded speech. *ut in whate!er form it comes, a reader (or hearer will search the te$t for cues or signals that may help to reconstruct the writer0s (or speaker0s discourse. Howe!er, just because he or she is engaged in a process of reconstruction, it is always possible that the reader (or hearer infers a different discourse from the te$t than the one the writer (or speaker had intended. Therefore, one might also say that the inference of discourse meaning is largely a matter of negotiation between writer (speaker and reader (hearer in a conte$tualized social interaction. /o we can suggest that a te$t can be realized by any piece of language as long as it is found to record a meaningful discourse when it is related to a suitable conte$t of use. Te3t)'l 'nd C#nte3t)'l Me'nin "t this point, it will ha!e become clear that in order to deri!e a discourse from a te(t we ha!e to e$plore two different sites of meaning5 on the one hand, the te$t0s intrinsic linguistic or formal properties (its sounds, typography, !ocabulary, grammar, and so on and on the other hand, the e$trinsic conte$tual factors which are taken to affect its linguistic meaning. These two interacting sites of meaning are the concern of two fields of study5 semantics is the study of formal meanings as they are encoded in the language of te$ts, that is, independent of writers (speakers and readers (hearers set in a particular conte$t, while pragmatics is concerned with the meaning of language in discourse, that is, when it is used in an appropriate conte$t to achie!e particular aims. #ragmatic meaning is not, we should note, an alternati!e to semantic meaning, but complementary to it, because it is inferred from the interplay of semantic meaning with conte$t. The notion of conte$t has already been introduced, if somewhat informally. Ge now need to be more precise. It will be recalled that we distinguished two kinds of conte$t5 an internal linguistic conte$t built up by the language patterns inside the te$t, and an e$ternal non=linguistic conte$t drawing us to ideas and e$periences in the world outside the te$t. The latter is a !ery comple$ notion because it may include any number of te$t=e$ternal features influencing the interpretation of a discourse. #erhaps we can make the notion more manageable by specifying the following components (ob!iously, the list is by no means complete5 8. the te$t type, or genre (for e$ample, an election poster, a recipe, a sermonH ). its topic, purpose and functionH %. the immediate temporary and physical setting of the te$tH 3/ the te$t0s wider social, cultural and historical settingH K. the identities, knowledge, emotions, abilities, beliefs, and assumptions of the writer (speaker and reader (hearerH :. the relationships holding between the writer (speaker and reader (hearerH ;. the association with other similar or related te$t types (interte$tuality The 4eadline Re+isited 1et us now try to put these ideas to work by considering our analysis of the newspaper headline 6Lie on 'ars5#ar o the #ords0. Ghen we analyze the headline0s stylistic make=up and interpret its effects, we do so from a double=focused perspecti!e which corresponds to the distinctions just outlined. ?irst we point out how the headline writer has e$ploited the resources of language. To that end we record the foregrounded choices which the writer has made from the following elements of the linguistic system5 typography (a larger and bolder typefaceH the use of a dash in a conspicuous place, sounds and rhythm (alliteration and a balanced stress pattern, grammar and structure (elliptical sentence and two balanced phrases of the same structure, and !ocabulary (for e$ample, 6war of words0 instead of 6debate0, 6dispute0 or 6-uarrel0. "t this stage of our analysis, we are adopting a semantic perspecti!e, that is, we register these choices as ha!ing been made from the linguistic system. In brief, we treat the headline as te$t. <e$t we shift to a pragmatic perspecti!e by making the point that most of these striking linguistic choices are ine!itably moti!ated by the socio=cultural situation the writer is working in, namely the hectic world of a *ritish national newspaper and its readers. Though only selecti!ely, we can indicate some of the conte$tual factors that are !ery likely to ha!e influenced the writer0s discourse and therewith the te$t, that is, the medium of his or her discourse. In fact, one may try to tick off the situational features we suggested against the items (8 through (; on the abo!e list of potential te$t=e$ternal features. +learly, this mo!e to the world outside the te$t enables us to e$amine the headline0s marked linguistic forms in terms of their pragmatic or communicati!e use, in other words, as a resource to reconstruct the headline writer0s discourse. #utting the headline0s te$t into relation with its conte$t also enables us to e$press some e!aluati!e judgements about the possible (perhaps intended effects of the headline writer0s foregrounded linguistic choices such as its succinct and pungent style, its direct and powerful effect on the reader and, last but not least, its interte$tual allusion. 7b!iously, these are stylistic and not linguistic judgements, which can only be made, as we ha!e just seen, by relating the linguistic forms of the te$t to a rele!ant conte$t of use, that is, by treating it as discourse. In this connection, the interte$tual allusion in the headline is an interesting e$ample of the possibility that some of the newspaper0s readers might miss the pun and thereby deri!e another discourse from the te$t than the one the writer intended. The C#nte3t #+ Lite&'&( Disc#)&se <ow the -uestion arises 6How are these points about te(t, conte(t and discourse rele!ant to themJ0 In principle, the process of discourse inferencing is the same for non= literary and literary te$ts, for in either case we ha!e to bring about an interaction between the semantic meanings of the linguistic items of the te$t or the pragmatic meanings these items take on in a conte$t of use. Howe!er, we should remember that the nature of the conte(t of literary discourse is -uite different from that of non=literary discourse in that it is dissociated from the immediacy of social contact. In !ery broad terms, whereas the non=literary te$t makes a connection with the conte$t of our e!eryday social practice, the literary te$t does not5 it is self=enclosed. <ow, the discourse of daily social life is, of necessity, constantly aimed at the control, categorization and abstraction of an endless !ariety of social institutions, relationships and processes. In fact, the !ery term 6society0 is a prime e$ample of how far we can go in our habitual urge to abstractione *ut we also hold dear an altogether different urge, namely the desire to be an indi!idual, to be distinct from others, though realizing at the same time that we are indi!isible members of society. It is literature, and in a broad sense all art, which can be said to potentially pro!ide an outlet for these indi!idualizing tendencies. In the case of literature, this escape e$ists because its discourse is di!orced from the conte$t of the social practice we ha!e just described. To put it differently, literary discourse represents a world that refuses to be categorized and pigeon=holed, unlike the social world we li!e in. It is essential to recognize, howe!er, that the alternati!e realities represented by literary discourses do not offer a neat and tidy substitute for the realities which we are in the habit of constructing as members of a society. The meanings of literary discourses are indefinite, undetermined, unstable and indeed often unsettling. /o e!ery time we try to infer a discourse from the same literary te$t, we are sure to find other meanings, which again and again will refuse to be pinned down, and may therefore open up a refreshing perspecti!e in addition to our socialized certainties. It is here that <ietzsche0s dictum comes to mind 6Ge ha!e "rt in order that we may not perish from Truth0. "ll this does not mean, of course, that literary te$ts bear no relation to the 6real world0. 7f course they do, otherwise we would not be able to identify with them and construe some meaningful discourse. The point is that their characteristic use of language, unlike that of non=literary te$ts, challenges our socializing tendency to align oursel!es with abstractions and generalizing concepts. Indeed, literary language brings about this challenge by stressing and, what is e!en more important, by preser!ing the particular. #arado$ically, this uni-ue 6!erbal pickling0 of the particular, to borrow a phrase from #hilip 1arkin, ne!ertheless in!ites or tempts us to look for some broader significance. *ut, for reasons e$plained abo!e, we do not socialize this wider meaning, so that it remains inherently indi!idual and thereby always di!ergent. The C#mm)nic'ti"e Sit)'ti#n in Lite&'&( Disc#)&se Rssentially, we ha!e argued, a discourse is a conte$t=bound act of communication !erbalized in a te(t, and waiting to be inferred from it. /uch a communicati!e act is inherently an interpersonal acti!ity between two parties5 the first=person party at the addresser end of the process, and the second=person party at the addressee end. These parties may share a physical conte$t, as in face=to=face con!ersation, or may not, as in written discourse. *ut as we ha!e noted, conte$t is not simply a matter of physical circumstances but of the ideas, !alues, beliefs, and so on inside people0s heads. In this sense all communication is a meeting of minds, and meaning is achie!ed to the e$tent that the conte$ts of the two parties come together. *ut in literature the communicati!e situation is not so straightforward. /ince, as we ha!e argued, literary te$ts are disconnected from ordinary social practices, there is a disruption in the direct line of communication between the parties. Thus the first=person pronoun does not represent the person who produced the te$t but a persona within it, and so we cannot as readers con!erge on the writer0s conte$t but only on that which is internally created in the te$t itself. "nd this conte$t may represent not one perspecti!e or point of !iew, but se!eral. 1et us now illustrate this di!ersity of perspecti!es by considering a poem. The author is Iohn *etjeman, and in this respect he is the first=person producer of the te$t. *ut whose perspecti!e is represented inside itJ Devonshire &treet !*H The hea!y mahogany door with its wrought=iron screen /huts. "nd the sound is rich, sympathetic, discreet. The sun still shines on this eighteenth=century scene Gith Rdwardian faience adornmentsk3e!onshire /treet. K <o hope. "nd the O=ray photographs under his arm +onfirm the message. His wife stands timidly by. The opposite brick=built house looks lofty and calm Its chimneys steady against a mackerel sky. <o hope. "nd the iron nob of this palisade 84 /o cold to the touch, is luckier now than he. 67h merciless, hurrying 1ondonerse Ghy was I made ?or the long and the painful deathbed coming to meJ0 /he puts her fingers in his as, lo!ing and silly, "t long=past Fensington dances she used to do 8K 6It0s cheaper to take the tube to #iccadilly "nd then we can catch a nineteen or a twenty=two0. Ge might note, first of all, that the scene here is described in third=person terms (6his arm0, 6his wife0, 6he0, 6she0 and this presupposes a first=person perspecti!e. The man0s plight is related with apparent detachment from the point of !iew of an unin!ol!ed omniscient narrator, but his or her position is ne!er made e$plicit by the use of a first=person pronoun5 he or she remains an unidentifiable !oice. The only times the first=person pronoun makes an appearance is in the direct speech of the man (lines 88=8) and of his wife (lines 8K=8:. *ut the perspecti!e is different in each case. The wife makes use of the plural 6we0 and so speaks on behalf of both of them. The man uses the singular 6I0, and although it is presented as direct speech, it clearly represents not what he says but what he thinks5 it is interior monologue. "nd of course what the wife says and what he thinks relate to two entirely different realities5 the simple and tri!ial e!eryday life of the present they can share, and the dreadful agony of the future that they cannot. /o we can discern three perspecti!es here5 that of the man, his wife, and a detached obser!er. *ut on closer consideration, things are not so simple. How detached, after all, is the description of the scene hereJ Ge might note, for e$ample, that it is hea!y with detail. The things described are linguistically realized by rather comple$ noun phrases, some of which are o!erloaded with ad4ectives and other types of modifying elements. In the following list, the head nouns of the noun phrases are in capitals, while the determiners (6the0, 6this0, 6its0, adjecti!es (for e$ample 6hea!y0, 6mahogany0, and other descripti!e structures (for e$ample 6with its wrought=iron screen0 are in italics5 the heavy mahogany door with its wrought<iron screen the eighteenth<century scene with 'dwardian faience adornmentsIDevon shire &treet the opposite brick<built house its chimneys steady against a mackerel sky the iron nob of this palisade so cold to the touch It should be noted that these comple$ structures in themsel!es are just linguistic features, which do not go beyond the status of te$tual data. *ut, as suggested earlier, we take it that they are designed to ha!e discourse significance and so to reflect perspecti!e. The !ery fact of linguistic elaboration here implies a heightened perception of detail. Gho then, we might reasonably ask, would percei!e these things in such a wayJ There would be no moti!ation for the detached obser!er to do so, but there would be for somebody who has effecti!ely just recei!ed a death sentence. /o what we ha!e here, we might infer, is the condemned man0s first=person perspecti!e on reality. It would seem that from the moment he lea!es the specialist0s surgery, his percei!ing senses are in a state of high alert5 aural (6The hea!y mahogany door... shuts....the sound...0, !isual (6The sun still shines...adornments...0, 6The... house looks lofty...a mackerel sky0, and tactile (6/o cold to the touch0. 7f course, we might interpret this detailed awareness in different ways. #erhaps it intimates the acute sensiti!ity and heightened acti!ity of the senses of someone who knows he is going to die, and therefore now takes in e!erything around him in a world he is soon going to lea!e. 7r we may interpret it as suggesting that the man unconsciously transfers his feelings to these e$ternal objects by contrasting their apparent in!ulnerability with his own mortality. Indeed, the solidity and permanence of the things he percei!es are implied by many of their endurable aspects5 the door is made of 6hea!y mahogany0 and it is pro!ided with a 6wrought=iron screen0H the scene is 6eighteenth=century0 and it features 6Rdwardian faience0 (a kind of glazed brick adornmentsH the house opposite is 6brick=built0 and looks 6lofty and calm0H its chimneys look 6steady0H and the nob of the palisade is made of 6iron0. The doomed patient, we might suggest, seems to be o!erpowered by the solidity and agelessness of these lifeless objects, which ironically emphasize the fragility of his own life and that of human life in general. "nd this assignment of discourse significance might draw our attention back to the te(t and to other linguistic features. ?or e$ample, there is another conspicuous pattern of linguistic structures in which nouns denoting lifeless objects function either as the subject of action verbs (the 6door shuts0, the 6sun shines0, and the 6O=ray photographs confirm0 the message or as the subject of copular verbs linked with one or more ad4ectives denoting human features (the sound is 6rich, sympathetic, discreet0, the 6house looks lofty and calm0, its 6chimneys hlooki steady0, and the 6nob...is luckier0 than he. 7b!iously, in itself the clause 6the sun still shines0 is unremarkable, a standard phrase, but it clearly fits and reinforces this pattern of linguistic structures describing lifeless things as acti!e and sentient. "nd it is worth noticing that the !ery fact that the e$pression is normal, e!en banal, suggests the continuity of ordinary and accepted things in spite of the man0s personal agony. In the conte$t of the poem we may construe these structures pragmatically as a further indication that we are to infer the man0s an$ieties and insecurity from the way he percei!es the things around him. In fact, it appears that he e$periences his surroundings as animated, which implies that lifeless objects are personified. Things are gi!en human attributes in that they are endowed with the power to act by themsel!es and they are gi!en a consciousness and the human capacity to feel. *y contrast, the ill=fated man is subject of only two !erbs. /ignificantly, both times this is in a conte$t where he is not in control of the situation5 in the bitterly ironic comparati!e clause 6"nd the iron nob of this palisade...is luckier now than he hisi0, and in the emotional passi!e structure 6Ghy was I made for the long and the painful deathbed coming to meJ0 7b!iously, the man thinks he has fallen !ictim to uncontrollable forces and no longer feels able to perform any action which could change his dreadful situation. In the same way, his wife is made the grammatical subject of helpless actions5 6His wife stands timidly by0, and 6/he puts her fingers in his as, lo!ing and silly,... she used to do0. "nd again, this inferring of discourse significance might lead us back to the te(t to see what other te$tual features might support our interpretation. Ge might note that there is a consistent use of the simple present tense in the description of the man0s perceptions (6the door... shuts0, 6the sound is rich0, and 6the O=ray photographs... confirm the message0. The use of this tense locates the e!ents in the present, though of course in normal referential terms they cannot be. This gi!es a perspecti!e of immediacy to the man0s e$perience. His perceptions and his feelings are actual, here and now, not distanced in any past=tense narrati!e. "nd the reader of course is drawn into this reality and gi!en a sense of sharing in the immediacy of this conte$tual present. "nother te$tual feature which contributes to this effect is the fre-uent use of the definite article (for e$ample 6the door0, 6the sound0, 6the O= ray photographs0, 6the message0. The definite article would normally signify a conte$tual con!ergence5 it specifies something the speaker and the person spoken to both know about. The sick man knows about these things well enough but the reader of course does not, so in normal referential terms the use of the article is not warranted. Its use here, therefore, can be said to confirm that it is the man0s perspecti!e on things which is dominant, but also to draw the reader into sharing it. C#ncl)si#n Ge ha!e attempted to delineate what might be called a 6communicati!e triangle0, encompassing a first=person party (an addresser, a te$t as the material manifestation of a discourse, and a second=person party (an addressee. "ll three are indispensable elements in a dynamic conte$tualized interaction. It is con!enient to talk about te$t, when our analysis is focused on the intrinsic linguistic properties of the te$t, without considering its conte$tual factors. 7n the other hand, we need the term discourse when our analysis is not only concerned with linguistic features, but also with non=linguistic aspects such as the e$tra= te$tual conte$t of communication in which the discourse is situated. In this sense, the term discourse takes te$t and conte$t together because they are seen as interacting generators of meaning. 1iterature is distincti!e, we ha!e suggested, because its te$ts are closed off from normal e$ternal conte$tual connection and this means that we need to infer possible conte$tual implications, including perspecti!e or point of !iew, from the te$tual features themsel!es. Ge ha!e illustrated how this works by reference to a poem. *ut -uestions of perspecti!e and the !ariable representation of reality are just as rele!ant to prose fiction. Chapter No: 0< TYPES OF STYLISTICS FOCUS ON • Types o Stylistics o =eneral Stylistics o Literary Stylistics o Te;tual Stylistics o 'nterpreti&e Stylistics o !ormalist or !unctional Stylistics o 2&aluati&e Stylistics o )iscourse Stylistics o Conte;tual Stylistics o (honostylistics o Sociostylistics o !eminist Stylistics o Computational Stylistics o 2;pressi&e Stylistics o (edagogical Stylistics o *adical Stylistics o New Stylistics o Narrati&e Stylistics o !urther Subdi&isions Int&#d)cti#n *efore del!ing into the murky waters of types of stylistics, it may be useful to gi!e some definitions of stylistics itself. This is essential because the different types of stylistics deri!e from these notions or definitions of stylistics. Ghat is stylistics and what does it entailJ /ome linguists ha!e e!en asked the curious -uestion ,who is stylisticsJ. (/hort 8=%' If -uestions about stylistics are asked in the light of the personal (human interrogati!e pronoun ,who., it presupposes that the subject stylistics is gender=sensiti!e. This in turn is suggesti!e of the fact that there are more than one type, or e!en se!eral types, of stylistics. &tylistics has been defined by a lot of scholars. In a majority of their definitions is the recurrent concept of ,style.. Ge shall look at what others ha!e said about the term ,stylistics. before we proffer our own definition of the term. <ils Rrik Rnk!ist considers the multi=faceted nature of stylistics and its relationship with the disciplines of linguistics and literary study5 Ge mayl regard stylistics as a subdepartment of linguistics and gi!e it a special subsection dealing with the peculiarities of literary te$ts. Ge may choose to make stylistics a subdepartment of literary study which may draw on linguistic methods. 7r we may regard stylistics as an autonomous discipline which draws freely, and eclectically, on methods from linguistics and from literary study. (); " summation of Rnk!ist0s e$planation would be that stylistics straddles both linguistics and literary analysis. This mediating role which stylistics plays between linguistic description and literary appreciation has been represented diagrammatically by 1eo /pitzer in his ,philological circle. (1eech and /hort 8%=8'. Hartman and /tork describe stylistics as ,the application of linguistic knowledge to the study of style. ())%. Geoffrey <. 1eech describes stylistics simply as ,the study of literary style, orl the style of the use of language in literature. (8. B. H. "brams, after re!iewing different definitions of stylistics, concludes that hstylisticsi is e$panded so as to incorporate most of the concerns of both traditional literary criticism and traditional rhetoric.. it insists on the need to be objecti!e by focusing sharply on the te$t itself and by setting out to disco!er the 6rules0 go!erning the process by which linguistic elements and patterns in a te$t accomplish their meanings and literary effects. ()&' Bick /hort asks the -uestion, ,Gho is stylisticsJ. and describes 6her0 as a friend of his. He says 6she0 is an approach to the analysis of literary te$ts using linguistic description (8. "ll the abo!e notions consider stylistics as a hybrid discipline crisscrossing literary criticism and linguistics. *ut linguistics has not always been considered as an inalienable part of stylistics. ?or e$ample, Geoffrey <. 1eech and Bichael H. /hort define stylistics in !ery broad terms as ,the (linguistic study of style. (8%. This notion gi!es us two options5 stylistics could be linguistic or non=linguistic. The non=linguistic notion of stylistics would relate to the discussion of style by general literary critics and other dilettanti who would discuss the artistic elements of some linguistic or non=linguistic e!ent or object without applying linguistic tools. Howe!er, this non=linguistic notion of stylistics is not of much use to us here. Indeed, it has been suggested that the (ics element in the word 6stylistics0 is taken from 6linguistics0 and appended to 6style0 to form a kind of blend. *ut e!en within the linguistic notion of stylistics, the concept may be gi!en both literary and non=literary orientations. ?or e$ample, the work of 3a!id +rystal and 3erek 3a!y adopts this broad linguistic !iew of stylistics. In other words, stylistics is simply the employment of linguistic tools in the analysis and interpretation of linguistic e!ents, including religious, sports, legal and literary discourses. It is in the rather strict sense that stylistics is used to denote the linguistic study of literary te$ts. This is the sense adopted here. Therefore, for our purpose here, stylistics refers to the employment of the elements, approaches and procedures of linguistics to the analysis and interpretation of literary te$ts or e!ents. 2ichard *radford considers rhetoric as the ,most notable predecessor. of stylistics (%. He says stylistics enables us to identify and name the distinguishing features of literary te$ts and to specify the generic and structural subdi!isions of literary te$ts ($i. " major ad!antage of stylistics, according to 2onald +arter and Iohn Bc2ae, is that it ,can also help teach the confidence to make sense of language input which is not always ( in real communicati!e conte$ts ( neat, clear and immediately comprehensible. (K. Fatie Gales obser!es that stylistics, as the study of style, has the goal ,not simply to describe the formal features of te$ts for their own sake, but in order to show their functional significance for the interpretation of the te$tH or in order to relate literary effects to linguistic causes where these are felt to be rele!ant. ('%&. It is from these !aried but interrelated notions and goals of stylistics that different types of stylistics emerge. Indeed, they are not so much 6types0 as they are the approaches, orientations or aims which the analyst adopts or has in embarking on the analysis. In this direction, Gales points out that stylistics has !arieties ,due to the main influences of linguistics and literary criticism. ('%;. *esides the influence of these disciplines, some 6types0 of stylistics arise from the instrument used in gathering data for analysis as well as the range of reference the analyst brings to bear on the analysis. The purpose of the analysis results in further labels. Indeed, some labels may conflict and create confusion, but they are all names used by se!eral linguists to describe certain analytical procedures in stylistics, some of which ha!e come to be tagged ,types of stylistics.. In the following paragraphs, we discuss some of such labels. 45 Gene&'l St(listics #& St(listics This is stylistics !iewed from the broad notion of the linguistic study of all types of linguistic e!ents from different domains of life. It is used as a co!er term for the analysis of non=literary !arieties of language, or registers (Gales 'K&. Hence, one can undertake a stylistic study of a religious sermon, a sport commentary, a legal document, a political speech, a business con!ersation, etc. 65 Lite&'&( St(listics This is the type of analysis that focuses on literary te$ts. In the broad sense, such a study may be linguistic or non=linguistic, but in the more specialized sense, it is essentially linguistic. To make this linguistic orientation clearer, the terms linguistic stylistics or linguostylistics are sometimes employed to denote the linguistic analysis or interpretation of literary e!ents. 7ther types of stylistics below are largely subtypes of this linguistic literary stylistics. 75 Te3t)'list St(listics 8Te3tlin)istics9 This is the type of stylistics which engaged in an ,empty technology. of a te$t. It merely identifies the raw linguistic patterns of a (literary te$t such as the phonological, grammatical, le$ical and semantic patterns without attempting to relate these patterns to the message in the te$t. This approach was popular at the early stages of the e!olution of stylistics as a discipline where linguists !iewed literary te$ts merely as linguistic e!ents and felt literary interpretation, in!ol!ing thematic concerns or artistic significance, were not of concern to them as linguists, especially as they in!ol!ed an understanding of the artist0s intention which was hardly subject to the objecti!e !erifiability emphasized by the scientific claim of modern linguistics. :5 Inte&$&et'ti"e St(listics This is the practice engaged in by most stylisticians nowadays. It in!ol!es the analysis of the linguistic data in a (literary te$t, the unra!elling of the content or artistic !alue of the te$t and the marrying of these two. "s depicted in 1eo /pitzer0s philological circle, the interpretati!e stylisticians relates linguistic description to literary appreciation by seeking artistic function and relating it to the linguistic e!idence or first seeking the linguistic features in the te$t and relating it to the artistic moti!ation. The belief is that the linguistic patterns are chosen deliberately to e$press certain artistic or literary goals and that the two can hardly be di!orced. Interpretati!e stylisticians see themsel!es as both linguists and literary critics and integrate the roles of the two scholars. This may be seen as the more wholistic approach to literary stylistics or the analysis of literary te$ts in general. ;5 F#&m'list 'nd F)ncti#n'l St(listics These terms may be !iewed as alternati!es for te$tualist stylistics and interpretati!e stylistics respecti!ely as discussed abo!e. ?ormalist stylistics concentrates on the linguistic forms in the te$ts, paying little attention to the function of these forms in relation to the o!erall content of the te$t. +on!ersely, functional stylistics emphasizes the conte$tual function that the linguistic elements are used to perform. (/ee Taylor and Toolan <5 E"'l)'ti"e St(listics This is a term used by 2ichard *radford to designate the type of analysis which uses linguistic tools to assess or measure the worth or merits and demerits of a te$t. It assumes that the -uality of a te$t is re!ealed in the -uality of language patterns it employs. /uch analyses may in!ol!e the ju$taposition of two or more te$ts for comparati!e e!aluation. =5 Disc#)&se St(listics This is the stylistic approach which employs the procedures and terminology of discourse analysis in the e$plication of literary language use. 2onald +arter e$plains it this way5 hdiscourse stylisticsi operates under the direct influence of work in pragmatics, discourse analysis and te$t linguistics, and this work continues to pro!ide the field of stylistics with increasingly sophisticated means of discussing both longer stretches of te$t and, indeed, longer te$tsl. In the basic elementary definition, it is the application of discourse analysis to literature. (K Thus, an ad!antage of the discourse analysis approach is that it enables us to study longer stretches of language beyond sentences, which traditional linguistics may not reach. /uch terms as 6cohesion0, 6coherence0, 6location0, 6perlocution0, 6ma$im0, 6implicature0, 6speech acts0, etc which are regular in pure discourse analysis are employed in literary e$plication. >5 C#nte3t)'list St(listics This has !arious factions that are united in their emphasis on the ways in which literary style is formed and influenced by its conte$ts. These in!ol!e (8 ,the competence and disposition of the readerH () the pre!ailing sociocultural forces that dominate all linguistic discourse, including literatureH and (% the systems of signification through which we process and interpret all phenomena, linguistic and non=linguistic, literary and non=literary. (*radford ;%. Ghat happens with conte$tual stylistics is that it takes into cognizance the !arious conte$ts in which a stylistic analysis is done. It is actually reader=centred. ?5 Ph#n#st(listics This has been described by Hartman and /tork as ,the study of the e$pressi!e function of sounds. ())%. In practice, phonostylistics may not be considered as a distinct type of stylistics but rather as one of the phonological le!els at which a stylistician could analyze a te$t, (other le!els of linguistic analysis being the grammatical, the syntactic and the morphological, the le$ical (!ocabulary, the semantic and the conte$tual. /uch a phonological analysis would in!ol!e the identification (and functional interpretation of both the segmental patterns (!owels and consonants and suprasegmental features (syllable, stress, rhythm, tone, intonation, etc. #honological schemes like alliteration, assonance, consonance, chiming, !olume, onomatopocia, etc are discussed. 4@5 S#ci#st(listics This is actually a subject which studies, for instance, the language of writers considered as social groups (e.g. the Rlizabethan Qni!ersity wits, pamphleteers, or fashions in language (Gales '%&. The emphasis is on how the language identifies particular socio=literary mo!ements such as the metaphysicals, the romanticists, "frican writers, imagists, e$pressionists, modernists etc. 445 Feminist St(listics In the introductory pages of /ara Bills0 ?eminist /tylistics, she describes the phrase feminist stylistics as one which best sums up her concern ,first and foremost with an analysis which identifies itself as feminist and which uses linguistic or language analysis to e$amine te$ts. (8. /o the concern of feminist stylistics, according to Bills, is beyond only describing se$ism in te$ts but is broadened to ,analyze the way that point of !iew, agency, metaphor or transiti!ity are ine$pectedly related to matters of gender, to disco!er whether women0s writing practices can be described and so on. (8. *radford sees feminist stylistics as ha!ing a !iew of ,discourse as something which transmits social and institutionalized prejudices and ideologies, specifically the respecti!e roles, the mental and beha!ioural characteristics of men and women. (&:. It is apparent from the two !iew points that feminist stylistics cannot be di!orced from se$ism and gender=oriented issues. 465 C#m$)t'ti#n'l St(listics This is a subdiscipline of computational linguistics. It e!ol!ed in the 8@:4s and in!ol!es the use of statistics and other data that are readily generated by the computer to treat different problems of style. In the area of ,stylometry., the computer is used to generate data on the types, number and length of words and sentences which aid the stylistician in his study of te$ts, ensuring the objecti!ity re-uired. /uch data from different te$ts may e!en be used for comparati!e purposes as well as for the authentification of authorship. ?or e$ample, stylometric data may be used to determine which author a piece of disputed writing belongs to according to whether the stylometric data in it conform to stylometric data already associated with the author. The risk here are that it forecloses the possibility of an author changing his style from te$t to te$t and the possibility of two authors writing alike. 475 E3$&essi"e St(listics This approach is often considered ,old=fashioned. (Gales 8:: in seemingly upholding the !iew ,/tylus !irum arguit. (,The style proclaims the man., that is the author. This approach emphasizes an identification of how the style, the linguistic elements, re!eals the personality or 6soul0 of the author. It pursues the belief that the artists employ language to e$press their inner sel!es. Thus, there is the concept of style as idiolect, that each language user has some linguistic traits that not only mark himLher out but also e$presses hisLher personality. The ob!ious weakness of this approach is the probability that writers change their personality and language o!er time and te$t and that a change in one does not necessarily accompany a change in the other. 4:5 Ped'#ic'l St(listics This refers to the employment of stylistic analysis for teaching and learning purposes. 1iterary te$ts may sometimes be difficult for learners to appreciate. Hence, a teacher may analyze the linguistic patterns in the te$t, breaking down comple$ linguistic units to smaller ones, con!erting e$cerpts in !erse form prosaic form, hyperbaton (syntactic in!ersion to regular forms in the belief that such will help the learner to grasp the message therein. Gales remarks on this as follows5 *ecause of its eclecticism, stylistics has increasingly come to be used as a teaching tool in language and literature studies for both nati!e and foreign speakers of RnglishH what can be termed pedagogical stylistics. ('%& +arter and Bc2ae claim that stylistics in its pedagogical application ,has been accused of tending towards the simplistic. ($$$i. Howe!er, since the aim of teaching and learning is to make things clearer or simpler than they seem, pedagogical stylistics would be considered a positi!e de!elopment. 4;5 R'dic'l St(listics This is a term introduced by 3. *urton in 8@&) to designate a stylistic approach which tends to go beyond the identification of the artistic effects of language use to analyze how language is used to e$press different ideologies of world !iews. The radical stylistician is interested in the choice of linguistic patterns to reflect such ideological slants as communism, socialism, capitalism, welfarism, etc. Thus, the stylistician attempts to disco!er in the te$t certain jargons associated with such ideologies. This is allied to sociological criticism. The label suggests that such an analyst would ha!e a passion for the reflection or rejection of an ideological bias. 4<5 Ne! St(listics This is a rather !ague term used to denote some fresh models of stylistic analysis. /uch models cease to be 6new0 as soon as 6newer0 models e!ol!e. ?or e$ample, 1eo /pitzer0s ideas about stylistics as one of its originators in Gestern Rurope were considered 6new0. Howe!er, the term is often applied more consistently to the studies in the Gest from the 8@;4s which employed the latest principles of structuralism, poetics and reader=response criticism in the analysis of literary te$ts. 4=5 N'&&'ti"e St(listics <arrati!e discourse pro!ides a way of recapitulating felt e$perience by matching up patterns of language to a connected series of e!ents. In its most minimal form, a narrati!e comprises two clauses which are temporally ordered, such that a change in their order will result in a change in the way we interpret the assumed chronology of the narrati!e e!ents. ?or e$ample, the two narrati!e clauses in (8 Iohn dropped the plates and Ianet laughed suddenly suggest a temporal progression between the two actions described. Indeed, not only do we assume that Iohn0s mishap preceded Ianet0s response, but also that it was his mishap that brought about her response. Howe!er, re!ersing the clauses to form 6Ianet laughed suddenly and Iohn dropped the plates0 would in!ite a different interpretation5 that is, that Ianet0s laughter not only preceded but actually precipitated Iohn0s misfortune. 7f course, most narrati!es, whether those of canonical prose fiction or of the spontaneous stories of e!eryday social interaction, ha!e rather more to offer than just two simple temporally arranged clauses. <arrati!e re-uires de!elopment, elaboration, embellishmentH and it re-uires a sufficient degree of stylistic flourish to gi!e it an imprint of indi!iduality or personality. /tories narrated without that flourish will often feel flat and dull. 7n this issue, the sociolinguist Gilliam 1abo! has argued that narrati!es re-uire certain essential elements of structure which, when absent, render the narrati!e 6illformed0. He cites the following attested story as an illustration5 () well this person had a little too much to drink and he attacked me and the friend came in and she stopped it (1abo! 8@;)5%:4 This story, which is really only a skeleton of a fully formed narrati!e, was told by an adult informant who had been asked to recollect an e$perience where they felt they had been in real danger. True, the story does satisfy the minimum criterion for narrati!e in that it comprises temporally connected clauses, but it also lacks a number of important elements which are important to the deli!ery of a successful narrati!e. " listener might legitimately ask, for instance, about e$actly where and when this story took place. "nd who was in!ol!ed in the storyJ That is, who was the 6person0 who had too much to drink and precisely whose friend was 6the friend0 who stopped the attackJ How, for that matter, did the storyteller come to be in the same place as the antagonistJ "nd is the friend0s act of stopping the assault the final action of the storyJ +learly, much is missing from this narrati!e. "s well as lacking sufficient conte$tualization, it offers little sense of closure or finality. It also lacks any dramatic or rhetorical embellishment, and so risks attracting a rebuke like 6so whatJ0 from an interlocutor. 2eading between the lines of 1abo!0s study, the narrator of () seems to ha!e felt some discomfort about the episode narrated and was therefore rather reluctantly lured into telling the story. It may ha!e been this factor which constrained the de!elopment of a fully articulated narrati!e. There is clearly, then, more to a narrati!e than just a se-uence of basic clauses of the sort e!idenced in e$amples (8 and (). Howe!er, the task of pro!iding a full and rigorous model of narrati!e discourse has pro!ed somewhat of a challenge for stylisticians. There is much disagreement about how to isolate the !arious units which combine to form, say, a no!el or short story, just as there is about how to e$plain the interconnections between these narrati!e units. Boreo!er, in the broad communicati!e e!ent that is narrati!e, narrati!e structure is only one side of a coin of which narrati!e comprehension is the other (see further thread 84. "llowing then that a fully comprehensi!e description is not achie!able, the remainder of this introductory unit will establish the core tenets only of a suggested model of narrati!e structure. It will point out which type of indi!idual stylistic framework is best suited to which particular unit in the narrati!e model and will also signal whereabouts in this book each of the indi!idual units will be e$plored and illustrated. It is common for much work in stylistics and narratology to make a primary distinction between two basic components of narrati!e5 narrati!e plot and narrati!e discourse. The term plot is generally understood to refer to the abstract storyline of a narrati!eH that is, to the se-uence of elemental, chronologically ordered e!ents which create the 6inner core0 of a narrati!e. <arrati!e discourse, by contrast, encompasses the manner or means by which that plot is narrated. <arrati!e discourse, for e$ample, is often characterized by the use of stylistic de!ices such as flashback, pre!ision and repetition ( all of which ser!e to disrupt the basic chronology of the narrati!e0s plot. Thus, narrati!e discourse represents the realized te$t, the palpable piece of language which is produced by a story=teller in a gi!en interacti!e conte$t. The ne$t step in!ol!es sorting out the !arious stylistic elements which make up narrati!e discourse. To help organize narrati!e analysis into clearly demarcated areas of study, let us adopt the model shown in ?igure below. *eyond the plot(discourse distinction, the categories towards the right of the diagram constitute si$ basic units of analysis in narrati!e description. "lthough there are substantial areas of o!erlap between these units, they nonetheless offer a useful set of reference points for pinpointing the specific aspects of narrati!e which can inform a stylistic analysis. /ome further e$planation of the units themsel!es is in order. The first of the si$ is te$tual medium. This refers simply to the physical channel of communication through which a story is narrated. Two common narrati!e media /igureA " model of narrati!e structure are film and the no!el, although !arious other forms are a!ailable such as the ballet, the musical or the strip cartoon. The e$amples cited thus far in this unit represent another common medium for the transmission of narrati!e e$perience5 spoken !erbal interaction. The concept of te$tual medium, in tandem with the distinction between plot and discourse, is further e$plored later on. /ociolinguistic code e$presses through language the historical, cultural and linguistic setting which frames a narrati!e. It locates the narrati!e in time and place by drawing upon the forms of language which reflect this sociocultural conte$t. /ociolinguistic code encompasses, amongst other things, the !arieties of accent and dialect used in a narrati!e, whether they be ascribed to the narrator or to characters within the narrati!e, although the concept also e$tends to the social and institutional registers of discourse deployed in a story. This particular narrati!e resource is further e$plored later on. The first of the two characterisation elements, actions and e!ents, describes how the de!elopment of character precipitates and intersects with the actions and e!ents of a story. It accounts for the ways in which the narrati!e intermeshes with particular kinds of semantic process, notably those of 6doing0, 6thinking0 and 6saying0, and for the ways in which these processes are attributed to characters and narrators. This category, which approaches narrati!e within the umbrella concept of 6style as choice0, was the main focus of attention earlier on. The second category of narrati!e characterisation, point of !iew, e$plores the relationship between mode of narration and a character0s or narrator0s 6point of !iew0. Bode of narration specifies whether the narrati!e is relayed in the first person, the third person or e!en the second person, while point of !iew stipulates whether the e!ents of story are !iewed from the perspecti!e of a particular character or from that of an omniscient narrator, or indeed from some mi$ture of the two. The way speech and thought processes are represented in narrati!e is also an important inde$ of point of !iew, although this stylistic techni-ue has a double function because it relates to actions and e!ents also. #oint of !iew in narrati!e is e$amined later on, while speech and thought presentation is also e$plored in detail later. Te$tual structure accounts for the way indi!idual narrati!e units are arranged and organized in a story. " stylistic study of te$tual structure may focus on large=scale elements of plot or, alternati!ely, on more localized features of story0s organizationH similarly, the particular analytic models used may address broad=based aspects of narrati!e coherence or they may e$amine narrower aspects of narrati!e cohesion in organization. Te$tual structure (as it organizes narrati!e is the centre of interest across the remainder of this chapter. The term interte$tuality, the si$th narrati!e component, is reser!ed for the techni-ue of 6allusion0. <arrati!e fiction, like all writing, does not e$ist in a social and historical !acuum, and it often echoes other te$ts and images either as 6implicit0 interte$tuality or as 6manifest0 interte$tuality. In a certain respect, the concept of interte$tuality o!erlaps with the notion of sociolinguistic code in its application to narrati!e, although the former in!ol!es the importing of other, e$ternal te$ts while the latter refers more generally to the !ariety or !arieties of language in and through which a narrati!e is de!eloped. F)&the& S)0di"isi#ns "ccording to I. 2. Galperin, stylistics is a branch of general linguistics, which deals with the following two interdependent tasks5 a /tudies the totality of special linguistic means (stylistic de!ices and e$pressi!e means which secure the desirable effect of the utteranceH b /tudies certain types of te$t 6discourse0 which due to the choice and arrangement of the language are distinguished by the pragmatic aspect of communication (functional styles. 3epending on the school of thought there are5 8 1inguo=stylisticsH ) 1iterary stylistics (encoding stylisticsH % 3ecoding stylistics (of the readerH 8 Linguo2stylistics is the study of literary discourse from a linguistic orientation. The linguistics is concerned with the language codes themsel!es and particular messages of interest and so far as to e$emplify how the codes are constructed. ) Literary stylistics is to e$plicate the message, to interpret and e!aluate literary writings as the works of art. % &ecoding stylistics can be presented in the following way5 /ender = message = recei!erH speaker = book = reader. Process o reading is decoding The subject of stylistics can be outlined as the study of the nature, functions and structure of stylistic de!ices, on the one hand, and, on the other, the study of each style of language as classified abo!e, i.e. its aim, its structure, its characteristic features and the effect it produces, as well as its interrelation with other styles of language. E%pressi+e 'eans (E') and Stylistic &e+ices (S&) In linguistics there are different terms to denote those particular means by which a writer obtains his effect. '(pressive means, stylistic means, stylistic devices and other terms are all used indiscriminately. ?or our purposes it is necessary to make a distinction between e(pressive means and stylistic devices. "ll stylistic means of a language can be di!ided into e$pressi!e means, which are used in some specific way, and special de!ices called stylistic de!ices. The e$pressi!e means of a language are those phonetic means, morphological forms, means of word<building, and le(ical, phraseological and syntactical forms, all of which function in the language for emotional or logical intensification of the utterance. These intensifying forms of the language ha!e been fi$ed in grammars and dictionaries. /ome of them are normalized, and good dictionaries label them as intensifiers. In most cases they ha!e corresponding neutral synonymous forms. R$pressi!e means (RB of the language are the choice of words, clauses, sentences, a combination of sounds, which signal additional information (emoti!e, e$pressi!e, e!aluati!e and stylistic. (I.A." '(pressive means (RB are those phonetic, morphological, word=building, le$ical, phraseological and syntactical forms which e$ist in language=as=a=system for the purpose of logical andLor emotional intensification of the utterance. (I.2.G &tylistic device (/3 is a conscious and intentional intensification of some typical structural andLor semantic property of a language unit (neutral or e$pressi!e promoted to a generalized status and thus becoming a generati!e model (I.2.G.. /oregrounding is the ability of a !erbal element to obtain e$tra significance, to say more in a definite conte$t (#rague school of linguistics. (I.A.". The most powerful e(pressive means of any language are phonetic. #itch, melody, stress, pausation, drawing out certain syllables, whispering, a sing=song manner of speech and other ways of using the !oice are more effecti!e than any other means in intensifying the utterance emotionally or logically. "mong the morphological e(pressive means the use of the 0resent indefinite instead of the 0ast 8ndefinite must be mentioned first. This has already been acknowledged as a special means and is named the "istorical 0resent. In describing some past e!ents the author uses the present tense, thus achie!ing a more !i!id presentation of what was going on. The use of 6shall0 in the second and third person may also be regarded as an e$pressi!e means. +ompare the following synonymous forms and you will not fail to obser!e the intensifying element in the sentence with 6shall0. "e shall do it 9 (I shall make him do it "e has to do it 9 (It is necessary for him to do it "mong word=building means we find a great many forms which ser!e to make the utterance more e$pressi!e and fresh or to intensify it. The diminuti!e suffi$es as =r (=ie, = let, e.g. dear, dearie, stream, streamlet, add some emotional colouring to the words. +ertain affi$es ha!e gained such a power of e$pressi!eness that they begin functioning as separate words, absorbing the generalizing meaning they usually attach to different roots, as for e$ample5 =ism and =ologies. "t the le$ical le!el there are a great many words which due to their inner e$pressi!eness, constitute a special layer. There are words with emoti!e meaning only, like interjections, words which ha!e both referential and emoti!e meaning, like some of the -ualitati!e adjecti!es, words belonging to special groups of 1iterary Rnglish (poetic, archaic or of non=standard Rnglish (slang, !ulgar, etc. and some other groups. The same can be said of the set e$pressions of the language. #ro!erbs and sayings as well as catch=words for a considerable number of language units ser!e to make speech more emphatic, mainly from the emotional point of !iew. Their use in e!eryday speech can hardly be o!erestimated. /ome of these pro!erbs and sayings are so well=known that their use in the process of communication passes almost unobser!ed. The e$pressi!e means of the language are studied respecti!ely in manuals of phonetics, grammar, le$icology and stylistics. /tylistics, howe!er, obser!es not only the nature of an e$pressi!e means, but also its potential capacity of becoming a stylistic de!ice. Ghat then is a stylistic de!iceJ It is a conscious and intentional literary use of some of the facts of the language including RB in which the most essential features both structural and semantic forms of the language are raised to a generalized le!el and thereby present a generati!e model. Bost stylistic de!ices may be regarded as aiming at the further intensification in the corresponding RB. This conscious transformation of a language fact into a stylistic de!ice has been obser!ed by certain linguists whose interests in scientific research ha!e gone beyond the boundaries of grammar. The birth of a /3 is not accidental. 1anguage means which are used with more or less definite aims of communication and in one and the same function in !arious passages of writing begin gradually to de!elop new features, a wider range of functions and become a relati!e means of the language. It would perhaps be more correct to say that unlike e$pressi!e means stylistic de!ices are patterns of the language whereas the e$pressi!e means do not form patterns. They are just like words themsel!es, they are facts of the language, and as such are, or should be, registered in dictionaries. The interrelation between e$pressi!e means and stylistic de!ices can be worded in terms of the theory of information. R$pressi!e means ha!e a greater degree of predictability than stylistic de!ices. The latter may appear in an en!ironment which may seem alien and therefore be only slightly or not at all predictable. R$pressi!e means are commonly used in language, and are therefore easily predictable. /tylistic de!ices carry a greater amount of information because if they are at all predictable they are less predictable than e$pressi!e means. It follows that stylistic de!ices must be regarded as a special code which has still to be deciphered. <ot e!ery stylistic use of a language fact will come under the term /3. There are practically unlimited possibilities of presenting any language fact in what is !aguely called its stylistic use. /umming it all up the following definitions of style and stylistics can be suggested. " style of 1anguage is a system of interrelated language means which ser!es a definite aim in communication. It is the peculiar choice of language means primarily dependent on the aim of communication. 6/tyle is the dress of thought0. (+hesterfield /tyle is ,The mystery of ha!ing been mo!ed by words.. (3. Thomas /tylus !irum arguit5 ,The style proclaims the man.. (H. G. Giddowson ,1anguage e$presses and style stresses.. (B. 2iffattere /tylistics is a branch of linguistics which studies the principles of choice and the effect of choice of different language elements in rendering thought and emotion under different conditions of communication. (I. 2. Galperin /tylistics is the study of literary discourse from a linguistics orientation and l it is essentially a means of linking linguistics and literary criticism ha!ing no autonomous domain of its own. (H. G. Giddowson /tylistics is a system of co=coordinated, interrelated and inter=conditioned language means intended to fulfil a specific function of communication and aiming at a definite effect. (I. 2. G. /tylistics is primarily the study of synonymic language resources. (+harles *ally Indi+idual Style 1- " uni-ue combination of language units, e$pressi!e means and stylistic de!ices peculiar to a gi!en writer, which makes that writer0s works or e!en utterances easily recognizable. (I. 2. G. ) It deals with problems, concerning the choice of the most appropriate language means and their organization into a message, from the !iewpoint of the addresser. (A.".F !hatJ !hyJ "owJ are the basic -uestions of stylistics. The philological circle (the circle o understanding) 6 L Spit7er See8ing Aesthetic unction Literary appreciation Linguistic description See8ing linguistic e+idence /tylistics is applied to5 8. a system of de!ices (/3 and e$pressi!e means in the language (RBH ). emotional colouringH %. synonymous ways of rendering one and the same ideaH '. aesthetic function of the languageH K. functional stylesH and :. the indi!idual style of the writer. C#ncl)si#n ?rom the foregoing, it is ob!ious that while there are different approaches or types of stylistic analysis, there are se!eral o!erlaps between many and the di!iding line between some is rather thin. "ccordingly, it may not be satisfactory or con!enient for a stylistician to be rigid on a particular type to employ. Indeed, stylistics being a multidisciplinary discipline often adopts an eclectic orientation. Thus, in the analysis of a particular te$t, a stylistician may employ more than one tool or approach depending on the data that is e!ident in the te$t, the analyst0s resourcefulness in his or her range of reference for the identification of e!idence and interpretation of such e!idence. Chapter No: 0> A STYLISTICS MANIFESTO FOCUS ON • 8A97 8Stylistics97 8Maniesto9 • The 2ssential %uestions • Theoretical !oundations • A Typology o Challenges • A Stylistics Maniesto .A/- .St(listics/- .M'ni+est#/ ?or a title as audacious as ours, a few ca!eats are first re-uired. This is a, not the, stylistics manifesto. It represents our own !iew, but we ha!e always thought that there is a benefit in pluralism and eclecticism. /econdly, the term stylistics comes with a deal of historical baggage, surrounding the relationship of style, conte$t and effects. Ge see stylistics as it is practised and it encompasses all of these areas, which means we ha!e to turn a half=blind eye to the etymology of 6stylistics0. The talk as originally deli!ered was also partly an answer to Harris0 ()444 -uestion5 6when will stylistics e!er grow upJ0 Thirdly, a manifesto is usually programmatic and re!olutionary, pasted to lamp=posts or nailed to the doors of authority. Howe!er, this manifesto will be descripti!e of what we see as our practice, as well as arguing for the discipline. Ge also claim, throughout, a collecti!e !iew, though there is certainly disagreement o!er what we say below. Ge want to claim that stylistics can be seen as a specification of hermeneutics. The present form in published writing represents the end of a transformation from a spoken talk, but we ha!e tried to write in our !oice in what follows. The logical sleight of hand on keyboard might be easier to spot than in our rapid speech, but we ha!e ne!ertheless retained the original argument and some of the definite, asserti!e and imperati!e tone. ?or skips in logic we plead the rhetoric of persuasion and the limits of space which would otherwise ha!e smoothed out the roughness of our te$ture. The Essenti'l *)esti#ns "s the title suggests, there are many ways in which researchers can engage in stylistics. " common -uestion right now is5 what sort of stylistics do you doJ The term co!ers a range of interdisciplinary concerns, and each permutation brings different methods, -uestions and outcomes. There is e!en awkwardness in what we call oursel!es5 are you a stylistician, or a plain linguist, or rather a linguistician, or a literary linguistJ #erhaps you regard yourself as a discourse analyst, an applied linguist, a cogniti!e scientist, a literary psychologist, or a computational or corpus linguistJ 7r do you simply say that you 6do stylistics0J The answer, as always, depends on who you are talking to5 Gi!en that stylistics is essentially a bridge discipline between linguistics and literature it is ine!itable that there will be arguments about the design of the bridge, its purpose, the nature of the materials and about the side it should be built from. /ome would e!en claim it is unnecessary to build the bridge at all. In such a situation there is always the danger that stylistics can become blinkered by too close an affiliation to a single mode of operation or to any one ideological position. (+arter 8@@;5 8@) +arter goes on to make a distinction broadly between literary stylistics and linguistic stylistics, identifying different respecti!e procedures, arising from di!ergent research -uestions, assumptions and preoccupations. This leads to our first essential -uestion5 *)esti#n 4% 's stylistics interdisciplinary? Ge will argue later that the only language study worth doing (or e!en possible is applied linguistics, in the broadest sense of applied. ?undamentally, if linguistics is not applied, e$isting entirely at a theoretical or abstract le!el, disconnected from natural language or subsisting on in!ented e$amples, it is then pointless5 it is not a study of anything. ?rom this perspecti!e, stylistics is at the heart of a unified discipline called language study. This in itself is not interdisciplinary, though it has coalesced from a range of traditionally separate fields in the past. Ge can e!en argue that today there certainly are a range of other interdisciplinary studies around the interesting margins of language study. In literature departments, for e$ample, most colleagues draw on language study and philosophy, or history, or psychoanalysis, or sociology or politics, and so on. The !aried business of literary criticism which still forms the bulk of global acti!ity (and claims the lion0s share of research funding consists of all of these other interdisciplines. "s a result, literary study is always, and deliberately, in crisis, and constantly circles back to the same -uestions that ha!e been 6problematized0 repeatedly in the past. *y contrast, stylistics is relati!ely stable, progressi!e, reasonably confident and aware of its future potential. Its stability comes from its focus on the analysis of the natural phenomenon of literary reading. It draws on a modern, #opperian notion of scientific practice that is founded primarily on the openness of proposed concepts to falsifiability. The centrality of falsification under in!estigation is what allows stylistics to be progressi!e. Though older -uestions are sometimes re!isited or reanimated, the pluralism of stylistics is not infinite5 certain approaches which are demonstrably false are discarded by general consensus. The confidence of the discipline comes from this sense that our collecti!e understanding really does impro!e o!er time. Gi!en this progressi!e dimension, we should be clear about the foundational principles on which disciplinary progress is based. The second -uestion then is5 *)esti#n 6% 5hat are the epistemological and ontological oundations o stylistic practice? *ecause of our practical concern with application, as well as our strong pedagogical tradition, we ha!e not been !ery good in the past at setting out precisely and persuasi!ely the conceptual foundations of stylistics. Bany ha!e been content to get on with the job rather than fret about it. This has meant that it has often been left to critics and opponents to delineate the philosophical problems in stylistics, rather than its practitioners. 7ne of the aims of this chapter is to sketch out an answer to -uestion ), but in order to do it in the characteristically practical spirit of stylisticsH we need to go back to a -uestion arising from +arter0s (8@@; distinction5 *)esti#n 7% 's stylistics concerned with te;t cratedness@ or e&eryday reading Amainly consensual-@ or scholarly reading Amainly eccentric-@ or interpretation? Rarly stylistics (and the practices that we tend to teach to beginning students was mainly concerned with te$t craftedness, being closer to formalist analyses and concerned with literary architecture. 7f course, what was actually being analyzed were readings ( not usually the readings of ordinary people but the readings of professional readers. The latter pri!ilege difference rather than the broad consensus that is apparent in non=scholarly reading. Ge want to argue that in fact all of these concerns are primarily to do with interpretation, and it is from this recognition that we must begin. Rarly hermeneutics (in the thinking of I. I. 2ambach, in 8;)%5 see Garnke 8@&; made distinctions between5 subtilitas intelligendi = understanding subtilitas e(plicandi ( interpretation subtilitas applicandi ( application Howe!er, in modern hermeneutics, these common=sense distinctions are refuted, for e$ample by Gadamer (8@&@. He argues that understanding is always conditioned by conte$t from the beginning. In other words, understanding is already an interpretation, and is also already an application since it is rooted in that particular conte$tual en!ironment. 7n this point, there is an intellectual con!ergence between modern hermeneutics (see Hoy 8@@;, ?ish0s (8@&4 notion of interpretation, and the integrationalist !iew of the unrepeatability of a language e!ent. ?ish argues that stylistics cannot be simply an analysis of te$t craftedness, since the te$t is inaccessible to a non=interpretati!e !iew. He goes on to argue that the idiosyncratic and historical re=e!aluation in!ol!ed in specifying readings renders any te$t=objecti!e claims made by stylistics in!alid. He proposes the useful notion of an interpretati!e community, but then because an interpretati!e community cannot be absolutely specified, and rather like Bargaret Thatcher0s famous assertion that there is no such thing as society, ?ish abandons the practice of community=based stylistic analysis. There are two false logical turns here (as well as the bad methodological practice on which I ha!e written elsewhere5 /tockwell )444. ?irstly, ?ish demonstrates the absolutist slide which has been the hallmark of poor thinking o!er the last half=century. In /tockwell (8@@8 we called this the 6coyote comple$0, after the animated cartoon character who repeatedly chased the road runner bird but failed catastrophically e!ery time. In the cartoon, if a plan was flawed, the coyote ne!er learnt from the mistake to modify the planH he abandoned it absolutely in fa!our of a radically different approach. /imilarly, ?ish sees flaws in some poor stylistic analyses, so he rejects the entire methodological apparatus of the entire discipline. /econdly, this approach fails to take account of the possibility of triangulation, noted in separate terms by both 1abo! (8@@' and Gadamer (8@&@, as a means of minimising the obser!er0s parado$ and the problems of subjecti!e perception. In asserting that 6*eing that can be understood is language0, Gadamer (8@&@5 ';' draws attention to the fact that e!en the most abstract and non=material concepts of social e$istence can (only be in!estigated through the reality of language and the process of social negotiation. /tylistics must be concerned, then, with interpretation and interpretati!e communities (or 6communities of practice05 see 1a!e and Genger 8@@8, Rckert and Bc+onnell=Ginet 8@@), but must deal with these in a realistic way. This helps us with the fourth essential -uestion5 *)esti#n :% 's stylistics concerned with pro&iding new insights or merely interested in &alidating e;isting readings? This point depends on the distinction between the two different types of reading in -uestion %. Ge are here an$ious about that work in stylistics that spends a lot of time on methodological rigour in order to demonstrate an opinion that is !ery banal. (It must be said that some of the poorer work in corpus=based computational stylistics is often culpable here. The -uestion is about the point of inter!ention of stylistics in the hermeneutic circle. Xuestion ' seems to us not an 6eitherLor0 -uestion, which is apparent in the irreconcilable circling of the argument between ?reeman (8@@%a, 8@@%b and 3ownes (8@@%, for e$ample. "t issue is the fact that the thing that first interests students, and the main reason why they go to uni!ersity to study literature, is the e$citement of new readings and fresh !iews. This is an area colonized by literary criticism, but it is an area that stylistics can reclaim. "t stake here are the parameters of the term 6stylistics0 (and 6linguistics0, of course. *)esti#n ;% 's stylistics to ta6e the social en&ironment seriously or remain within strict and narrow parameters? Ghether we take hermeneutics seriously or the haranguing of integrationalists seriously, the conse-uence of de!elopments in pragmatics, world=models and cognition is that we must !iew language study as inherently and properly sociolinguistic. The primacy of the social in linguistics runs counter to many traditions in the discipline. Hudson (8@@:5 )'%= & outlines the false logic in e$cluding social facts from language, stemming all the way back to /aussure. Harris (8@&8, 8@@4 founds integrationalism on this percei!ed fault. Increasingly there is e!idence that the notion of a 6language module0, discrete from other cogniti!e skills and social recognition, is absurd. In fact, social competence is part of linguistic competence. 7nly by recognizing this fact can we percei!e the false presupposed dichotomy in the -uestion5 *)esti#n <% 's stylistics right but boring? This -uestion is often asked because the most interesting discussions are often the most eccentric, indi!idual and startlingly new. *ut placing a practical stylistics at the heart of linguistics should o!erturn this perception. The#&etic'l F#)nd'ti#ns In this section, we will de!elop the argument using the work of Gadamer0s predecessor, 2oman Ingarden (8@';=&, 8@;%a, 8@;%b. ?or Ingarden, the work, not 6literature0, is central. He denies any objecti!e L subjecti!e distinction in order to focus on the idealized work and its readerly concretizations5 It follows, therefore, that the literary work of art constitutes an aesthetic object only when it is e$pressed in a concretization. (Ingarden 8@;%a5 %;) It is this distinction between the idealized work and readerly manifestations that e$plains why literature displays ambiguity, or 6plural signification0, in a !ariety of concretizations. The factor which allows an analytical accommodation between many different concretizations (readings and the unreachable idealization (the literary object is distancing5 the intersubjecti!e bracketing of e$perience. This is a socially negotiated matter corresponding with the notion of an interpretati!e community, it seems to us. Ingarden0s test case is drama, where distance is usually formalized and made material in a theatre, but it applies to all the literary distancing between author and readers that creates socially negotiated genres, periodization, a sense of authorial mind=style, and a critical tradition of readings. He tests his theory on 6borderline0, challenging cases5 theatre, film, pantomime and nonsense !erse. Ingarden is usually seen as a phenomenologist, after Husserl. He differentiates material things (autonomous objects from objects re-uiring an obser!ing and participating consciousness (heteronomous objects, like literature. Qnlike Husserl, Ingarden argues for the e$istence of objects but emphasizes the intersubjecti!e means of accessing them. This is a sort of social phenomenology that leads to Gadamerian hermeneutics. Ingarden0s 6intersubjecti!e object0 argues between the two e$treme poles5 a fi$ed work with potentially endless readings and a psychological identification (a 6psychic affect0 which would make the literary work a uni-ue and unrepeatable object. Instead, he argues for social negotiation, the dynamic integration of analytical le!els, and for a !iew that sees reading as a use in a specific en!ironment. In order to specify all this, he differentiates between the attitude of the non=scholarly reader (reading for pleasure and the attitude of the scholar (reading for historical research, for e$ample. Rncompassing these two is a refle$i!e attitude to cognize these readings as objects. This last le!el is necessarily intersubjecti!e, and Ingarden (8@;%b5 '88=) calls for a common terminology for intersubjecti!e negotiation. Ge belie!e that modern stylistics can pro!ide this. Ingarden offers an analytical scheme of the literary work as a stratified formation. The four strata are5 • the stratum of word sounds and higher orders • the stratum of meaning units of !arious orders • the stratum of manifold schematized aspects and aspect continua • the stratum of represented objecti!ities and their !icissitudes. This !iew of the analytical strata is a dynamic and readerly take on the linguistic rank scale, and is in many ways a rather modern !iew, offering a rich, procedural cogniti!e schematic for e$ploration. The first two strata co!er structuralist analyses and begin to co!er pragmatic concerns. The latter o!erlaps with the third stratum, which also encompasses cultural knowledge specifically rele!ant to the literary work. The last stratum is the main ground of literary criticism (the imaginary space, the psychologising of character, the twists and turns of plot, a thematic significance, but it alone is partial without all the other strata. Ingarden0s scheme can be seen to represent a model for an integrated stylistics. He emphasizes the continuities necessary in analysis5 Ghat is in -uestion here are not aspects that are e$perienced once and then lost for all time but certain idealizations, which are, so to speak, a skeleton, a schema, of concrete, flowing, transitory aspects. There are, in fact no two concrete aspects of the same thing, percei!ed from the same side, e$perienced successi!ely by one and the same conscious subject, which would be completely similar in e!ery respect. *oth their fully concrete contents and the manner in which they are e$perienced must always differ in !arying degree. (Ingarden 8@;%a5 ):) He goes on to deny the repeatability of language (in the manner of Harris 8@&8, 8@@4 and Toolan 8@@:, but unlike these modern integrationalists he asserts the !alue of the 6schematized aspect0 as a constraint on the absolutism of endless plural readings. Rssentially, the argument is that each successi!ely different reading tends to add a diminishing marginal return in terms of satisfaction, to the point at which differences (though persisting become negligible. "ll of this, of course, re-uires an eclectic approach to analytical methodology, an emphasis on reception, and a sociolinguistic perspecti!e. Ge can briefly illustrate what this would look like by considering Ionathan /wift0s (8@KK famous 6A .odest 0roposal0, written in 8;)@. The consensual reading of this work is that it is satire by irony. There are some te$tual, conte$tual and en!ironmental signs to indicate this reading. There is a mismatch between our schematic e!aluation of cannibalism and !arious minimising epithets (6modest0 through the te$t. "uthorities cited are left unnamed or !ague. There is an arithmetical computation of human !alue. "n animalistic register metaphorically reconfigures humans as commodities. +ulinary terms newly borrowed from ?rench in 8;)@ (6fricasie or 2agoust0 are applied to scraps and lefto!ers. There is a slippage in the metaphor of 6de!oured0 from the predations of landlords to a literal meaning, and a similar literalization of the metaphor of rich ladies and fine gentlemen clothing themsel!es off the backs of the poor. This seems straightforward, but it is difficult to disentangle the different aspects without considering the impact of Ingarden0s integrated strata, especially in the light of the historical sociolinguistic en!ironment. " little later, /wift (8@4K produced his 6#roposal for Gi!ing *adges to the *eggars of 3ublin0 (8;%;. It seems fair to assume that /wift meant this proposal ( which is similarly draconian and has similar ad!ance echoes of <azi horrors ( seriously. It has a !ery similar te$tual structure, uses similar terms and e!en many of the same words as the ironic 6Bodest #roposal0. It is e!en signed by /wift. <okes (8@&K, 8@&; also cites letters from /wift ad!ancing his proposal, and notes his arithmetical !iew of !alue5 when #ope and Gay turned up une$pectedly one e!ening ha!ing already eaten, /wift insisted on paying them the cost of the meal he would ha!e prepared for theme <either of these interesting readings can be produced from a single stratum. "n inclusi!e, integrated, broadly sociolinguistic approach is needed. This re-uires eclecticism not absolutism, though of course it also demands a principled method if it is to be an answer to ?ish (8@&4. "long with Aerdonk (8@@%H Aerdonk and Geber 8@@KH +ulpeper, /hort and Aerdonk 8@@&, who also argues for 6intersubjecti!ity0, we see the ideal method as one of mo!ing back and forth from te$t to conte$t, so that the key process is conte$tualizing (see /tockwell )444. This is a hermeneutic de!elopment of stylistics, which addresses the following challenges. A T($#l#( #+ Ch'llenes The challenges to interpretation in!ol!e different aspects of distancing between the apparent idealized object of the literary work and the concretization brought by its interpreting consciousness. Bapping a reading across these distances represents the resolution of the challengesH describing this mapping is the business of stylistics, broadly concei!ed. Se$antic or Rhetorical &istance The differences between the formal apparent structure of the te$t and the emergent socially negotiated meanings are resol!ed by an e$plicit sense of the linguistic structure. This in!ol!es traditional stylistic analysis of, for e$ample, register, significance of prosody, metaphorical resolutions, and so on. Interpersonal &istance This co!ers schema mismatches at an idiolectal le!el between idealized te$t and its concretizing reader, as well as ideology mismatches, and foregrounded poly!alence. 4istorical &istance 2eading across historical distance in!ol!es resol!ing social and cultural schemas. Cultural Re$oteness Ghere there is an apparent distance between te$t and reader at the purely cultural le!el (such as with humorous or allusi!e satirical te$ts, for e$ample, a reading has to resol!e this. 0eneric Re$oteness <ew generic configurations can create distance between the encoded moment of production and its point of reception5 these differences in the configuration of genre need to be resol!ed in reading. Linguistic Re$oteness Qnfamiliar registers in the idealization, unfamiliar semiotic systems (such as when 6reading0 music or painting and unfamiliar language in the idealized object are all e$amples of linguistic distance that must be o!ercome. "ll of these challenges blend in their resolution, of course. To gi!e an e$ample of the process at work, here is a te$t which we are certain (at least at the point of gi!ing this talk that no one has read for %)4 years. The te$t which follows (before you reach it is at the moment an idealized object, with se!eral of the dimensions of distance bound up in it now. This object has e$isted autonomously in a single manuscript until !ery recently, and soon it will become a range of heteronomous objects as all you listeners and readers are about to concretize it in !arious ways. ]ou might already ha!e some of the following e$isting understanding, from your own culture and e$perience. ]ou might know about the 8;th century Rnglish ci!il war and the e$ecution of Fing +harles I. ]ou might know about the contemporary cosmological !iew of the 6chain of being0, with the monarch as God0s direct link with the other social orders. ]ou might e!en know that 1ady Hester #ulter, the author, was an aristocrat and royalist who li!ed in Ginchester between around 8K@: and 8:;&. In other words, e!en this newly encountered literary work already appears with some readerly understanding, or at least a matri$ for potential interpretation already in place. This is refined by reading5 ?n the horrid murther of that incomparable 0rince, ,ing +harles the first 1et none presume to weep tears are to weak /uch an unparreld loss as this to speak #oor !illage Girles doe soe e$press their grief "nd in that sad e$pression find relief Ghen such a #rince in such a manner 3ies 1et us (ay me noe more drop tears but eyes <or let none dare to sigh or strike their breast To shew a grief, that soe transcends the rest #lebeans soe each !ulgar loss deplore Gee doe too little if wee doe noe more Ghen such a king in such a manner dies 1et us suspire our soules, weep out our eyes (#ulter )448 ?irst of all, our e$isting understanding makes us notice some things in this poem rather than others. 7ur concretization signifies a stratified society with a participating figure. <ote that this statement is not simply a te$t=description, since we are choosing to notice it and choosing to mention it first. Ge read the differences in action between the 6!illage Girles0 and 6us0 (including, implicitly, 6me0, and then between 6#lebeans0 and 6we0, and we read a sense of social polarities setting up an ideological continuum. Ge notice a shift from literal to metaphorical (6noe more drop tears but eyes0, and also a shift across the poem from o!er=emphatic negati!es to positi!es, marked too by parallelism (61et nonel 1et usl0. To commoners, +harles is 6#rince0H to her he is 6king05 notice the parado$ical ele!ation matched with the intimacy of mo!ing from capital initial to uncapitalized title. ?rom these stylistic features, we can mo!e to history and etymology. There is 1atin te$ture throughout, marking again the social rank (6presume0, 6e$press0, 6transcends0, which also pro!ides poly!alent readings for 6#lebeans0 and 6!ulgar0. "t first we e!en thought that 63ies0 was a pun associating +harles with God, until we realized our 1atin was faulty (it would be 63eus0. R!en our mistake here, though, lea!es a resonant trace in our reading. In the final line, 6suspire0 means to breathe out, but the 7R3 also gi!es a contemporary meaning of longing or reaching out. 2eturning to the te$t, we ha!e already noted the intimacy by which the small letter of 6king0 seems to bring him closer to her, and then we started to notice that 6#rince0 is placed close to 6manner0, perhaps further humanizing him as a 6man0. The final line in!ites us to gi!e up our souls (that is, die in order to join him and 6weep out our eyes0 (the windows of the soul, so that others may see this demonstration of loyalty. There is also poly!alence offered in deciding where to place speech pauses (there is no punctuation in the manuscript5 pausing after 6dies0 makes the last line a mark of singular griefH pausing after 6more0 generalizes a principle. Ge are shuffling, of course, from object to subjecti!ity and back in order to mirror in this e$plicit paper the hermeneutic interaction of the natural reading process. Ge are also, of course, open to social negotiation and the possibility of hearing other !iews on the te$t, and building these in to our concretization. *y contrast, ?ish (8@&4 says that interpretation is dependent not on the te$t but on a 6canon of acceptability05 in other words, interpretation is wholly socially determined. Howe!er, ?ish does not ade-uately recognize the power structures of this social negotiation, that 6naturalizes0 some readings o!er certain others. "ll readings are possible for ?ish (and thus stylistic description is partial, but in fact we might say that some readings are more possible than others. A St(listics M'ni+est# " manifesto should be e$hortational, but it should be clear from our foregoing argument that we want to create space rather than set boundaries. Therefore, we want to end not with 84 commandments but at least with 84 imperati!es, open=ended though they are, for the future maturity of stylistics. *e 'ore Theoretically A#are *e more theoretically aware of the foundations of our interdisciplinary partners, as well as of linguistic theory. /tylisticians ha!e rightly criticized literary critics for many years for being insensiti!e to the linguistic te$ture of literature, but we should also learn from the philosophical awareness of critical theory. *e Reception Oriented *e reception oriented as the only honest way of undertaking hermeneutic discussion and stylistic analysis. *e Sociolinguistic *e sociolinguistic in the broad sense of taking account of the social and cultural dimensions of reading. *e Eclectic *e eclectic as a matter of principle, in order to a!oid the absolutist slide. *e 4olistic and Integrati+e *e holistic and integrati!e and we are now de!eloping the conceptual tools to make this a reality as well as a slogan. !ocus on Interpretation ?ocus on interpretation not as an 6add=on0 le!el of analysis but as a foundational principle underlying all the le!els. !ocus on "e# En+iron$ents ?ocus on new en!ironments in terms of mo!ing beyond scholarly concretizations to e$plore the richness of readings in the world. !ocus on Challenging .or8s ?ocus on challenging works not necessarily returning to the 6de!iant0 stylistic fa!ourites, but aiming to try out stylistic models on te$ts that seem to stretch the frameworks rather than simply illustrate or demonstrate them. In other words, aim for a stylistics of falsifiability. Ta8e the Sense o 9Language: as *roadly as Possible Take the sense of 6language0 as broadly as possible as referring to the entire communicati!e e!ent, as an intersubjecti!e phenomenon, which also means taking an inclusi!e !iew of the terms 6linguistics0 and 6stylistics0. *e Interesting This is the most important, since it is a matter of our own rhetoric of persuasion that we draw in enthusiastic and committed people. /tylistics, it seems to us, is mature enough as a discipline to insist on this, and wise enough to recognize that only faddish intellectual fashions need to rely on obfuscation and intimidation to press=gang their uncommitted adherents. /tylistics is more mature and confident in its continuing de!elopment than it has e!er been. Chapter No: 10 VARIETIES OF LANGUAGE FOCUS ON • Two $inds o +arieties • )ialects • *egisters • The Mutual )ependence Between *egister and )ialect • The Social Meaning o Language +arieties T!# Ainds #+ V'&ieties Ge ha!e pointed out that when language is used, it is always used in a conte$t. Ghat gets said and how it gets said is always dictated by a !ariety of situations. /ome situations seem to depend generally and fairly consistently on some regular sets of language features, so that distincti!e !arieties of language occur. These sets of features are historically formed and are changing o!ertimeH but they remain relati!ely stable at a certain period of history go!erning people0s language acti!ity. "s a study of the linguistic features that characterize the main !arieties of a language, stylistics needs to define its !ariety categories. /ince the 8@:o0s, hopefully, studies in this area ha!e made considerable progress. Bodern linguistics has worked out a system of !ariety categories to help isolate these consistent relationships between particular features of language, and the particular situations in which they might possibly occur (see Gregory and +arroll, 8@;&. The constant features of the situational circumstances of speech e!ents that can be consistently related to !ariations in language use fall into two main groups5 one group relates to the relati!ely permanent characteristics of the user in speech e!ents, the other relates to the user0s use of language in such e!entsH and they yield two main kinds of situational !arieties5 dialectal and diatypic. Dialectal varieties, commonly called dialects, are language !arieties that are associated with different users of the language. "s users in a society can be defined in terms of their indi!idual, temporal, regional and social affiliations, and their range of intelligibility, there are indi!idual, temporal, regional, social and standard !arieties respecti!ely. These are relati!ely permanent features of the language user in a speech e!ent. Diatypic varieties, commonly called registers, are language !ariations that are associated with the different use to which they are put. /uch !arieties do not depend on the people who use the language, but on the occasion when it is used. 3ifferent types of language are selected as appropriate to different types of occasion. The choice is determined by the con!ention that a certain kind of language is appropriate to a certain use. The occasions can be classified along three dimensions, each presenting an aspect of the situation and the part played by the language in them. In this way, registers may be distinguished according to field of discourse, mode of discourse and tenor of discourse. Di'lects Indi+idual &ialect 22 Idiolect " specific person will display his or her own features of speech or writing habits. This is readily shown in the fact that most of us can recognize our friends by the sound of their !oice or the look of their handwriting. Rach speaker or writer will ha!e his or her own particular !oice -uality, pitch and stress patterns, fa!ourite le$ical items and e!en grammatical structures. These traits of speech or writing often point to a person0s indi!iduality which leads to a person0s style. Terms like 6+onrad0s language0, 6Hemingway0s language0, etc indicate just this type of !ariety. Ge call it individual dialect or idiolect. Te$poral &ialect 1anguage changes o!er time, and so description of the language at a gi!en point of time is likely to gi!e rise to a historical !ariety. In the Rnglish language, for instance, there are 7ld Rnglish, Biddle Rnglish, Rlizabethan Rnglish and Bodern Rnglish. " !ariety which correlates with the !arious periods of the de!elopment of language is called temporal dialect. /ome of the striking differences between 7ld, Biddle and Bodern Rnglish can be seen from their different ways of e$pressing the idea 6It0s me05 7ld Rnglish ic hit eom (I it am Biddle Rnglish Hit am I (It am I Rarly Bodern Rnglish It is me Regional &ialect 1anguage !aries from region to region. 7wing to the physical boundaries of oceans and mountains, people who li!e in different places tend to de!elop different speech patterns. /o far as the Rnglish speaking world is concerned, there are *ritish Rnglish, "merican Rnglish, "ustralian Rnglish, <ew sealand Rnglish, /outh "frican Rnglish, +anadian Rnglish and other international !arieties. There are also regional !arieties within Great *ritain and the Qnited /tates, such as cockney in *ritain, <orth Bidland dialect in Q/", etc. " !ariety like this we call regional dialect. The lay term for it is accent, as a dialect is often associated with a particular accent. In spite of the fact that with the e!er intensifying intercommunication between countries and the resulting closing up of the two major international !arieties of Rnglish, the most striking difference between *ritish Rnglish and "merican Rnglish is still found in terms of 8 phonologyH eg *rR "mR ask Lt5skL LaskL "ddress LaudresL LuadresL +lass Lkla5sL LklasL +ar Lka5L Lka5rL 1augh Lla5fL LlvfL *o$ LbHksL LbvksL Rpoch Lw;pvkL L'epxkL Tube Ltju5bL Ltu5bL Ghen LwenL LwenL Tomato Ltouma5tauL LtxumttyL R$amine LiguzaminL LeguzaminL Rither Lait̸hxL BiAt̸hxrL "d!ertisement Ladu!a5tismxntL L,aed!autaizmxntL ) graphologyH eg *r E honour colour centre theatre defence dialogue tra!eller kilogramme :Ll)L)484 (9: 3ec, )484 A$E honor color center theater defense dialog tra!eler kilogram 8)L:L)484 (93ec :, )484 ,- &ocabulary@ eg *r E A$ E Tin +an Telly TA +hemist0s 3rugstore *iscuits +ookies "utumn ?all 1ift Rle!ator Ground floor ?irst floor 1orry Truck #a!ement /idewalk #etrol Gas (oline Qnderground (tube /ubway ?ootpath Trail /weets +andy and ' grammarH eg *rE Ha!e you eaten yetJ He has just gone home. 7ne should always remember one0s duty. 7n /undays we don0t work. /ummer session lasts from Iune to "ugust. A$E 3id you eat yetJ He just went homeJ 7ne should always remember his duty. /undays we don0t work. /ummer session lasts from Iune through "ugust. Social &ialect Iust as oceans and mountains separate people and can lead e!entually to distinct language habits, so social and political boundaries separate people and can be instrumental in promoting different speechways. " !ariety associated with certain social group is referred to as social dialect. The social groups may identify themsel!es as separate socioeconomic classes or as ethnic groups. "nd cutting across these social boundaries are differences in the ways of women and men, old and young. Rach group tends to ha!e its distincti!e ways of speaking. Hence the occurrence of socioeconomic status !arieties, ethnic !arieties, gender !arieties and age !arieties. Socioecono$ic Status ,arieties 3ifferent socioeconomic status groups tend to show different patterns of speech characteristics. "n often -uoted e$ample is the well=known case of r<fulness in <ew ]ork +ity. <ew ]orkers sometimes pronounceLrLand sometimes drop it in words like car, fourth, beer, park (whenLr L follows a !owel, either at the end of a word or preceding a consonant. In!estigation shows that the occurrence ofLrLin the pronunciation of these words is anything but random and anything but meaningless. Gilliam 1abo! in!estigated pronunciations ofLrLamong employees of three Banhattan department stores of different social rank5 /aks ?ifth "!enue, an e$pensi!e, upper=middle= class storeH Bacy0s, a medium=priced, middle=class storeH and / Flein, a discount store patronized principally by working class <ew ]orkers. He found that at /aks, the highest= ranked of the stores, employees pronouncedLrLmore often than employees did at / Flein, the lowest=ranked store. "t Bacy0s, the middle=ranked store, employees pronounced an intermediate number of LrLs. This confirmed 1abo!0s hypothesis that members of higher socioeconomic status groups would pronounceLrLmore fre-uently than would indi!iduals from lower socioeconomic classes. The findings help e$plain the social basis for linguistic !ariation == e!en subtle differences in social stratification may be reflected in language use. Ethnic ,arieties Rthnic groups tend to de!elop and maintain distincti!e speechways of their own. Hence it raises ethnic !arieties. This is especially true of urban *lack "mericans in the Q/ who ha!e actually de!eloped a most widespread and familiar ethnic !ariety of "merican Rnglish k *lack Rnglish, with its characteristic phonological, morphological and syntactical features, as well as some !ocabulary of its own. It is as rule=go!erned and systematic, as rich in its communicati!e e$pression and adaptability, as other !arieties of Rnglish. The most striking characteristics of *lack Rnglish are as follows5 1- #honologically, *lack Rnglish is most salient in its fre-uent simplification of consonant clusters as 6des0 for desk, 6pass0 for passed, and 6wile0 for wild. "nother salient feature is the fre-uent deletion of the final stop consonants, pronouncing side like sigh and borrowed like borrow. 2- *lack Rnglish distinguishes itself in a characteristic use of !erb 6be0. the omission of the contracted form in the present tense (=s, and the use of be to e$press a habitual state of affairsH as in That my book (9 That0s my book. The coffee cold (9 The coffee0s cold. The coffee be cold there (9 The coffee0s always cold there. ?urther, !erb be is used to show habitual actionH as in 3o they be playing all dayJ (cf 3o they play all dayJ ]eah, the boys do be messin0 around a lot. (cf ]eah, the boys do mess around a lot ,/ "nother distincti!e feature of *lack Rnglish is the use of 6it is0 in the place of 6there is0H as in Is it (9 Is there a Biss Iones in this officeJ '. " final illustration of the distincti!eness of *lack Rnglish is the use of multiple= negati!e constructions5 3on0t nobody ne!er help me do my work. (cf <obody e!er helps me do my work.. 0ender ,arieties In most languages, men and woman do not speak identically. Hence gender !arieties occur. In Rnglish, for e$ample, female speakers tend to use 6feminine=sounding0 words like lovely, darling and cute. 1ikewise certain four=letter words may surprise us when uttered by a woman. Boreo!er, women tend to show e$tra politeness in their speech by lea!ing a decision open rather than imposing their claims on others. They make fre-uent use of e$pressions like 6I0m afraid that...0, 6I0m not sure, but...0 etcH of tag -uestions like 6The film is awfully interesting, isn0t itJ0H and of rising tone for a re-uest, like 63o come and ha!e a look0, etc. Ben, on the other hand, are usually more certainH decisi!e in their speech, often free to use strong e$pressions or rough language. /ometimes their pronunciation is not so clear as women0s. Age ,arieties 1anguage e!ol!es with age. /o a two=year=old child0s command of language is far from perfect while a fi!e=year=old in contrast has a much better command. " ten=year=old0s command of grammar does not differ significantly from that of adults, though hisLher !ocabulary is smaller. +hildren through (and especially in their teens tend to e$periment with !ocabulary, using long, 6literary0 words more than adults. There are language differences, chiefly in !ocabulary, between younger adults and older adults too. <owadays some older people still use icebo$ to refer to what younger generations call fridge, and they use record player for stereo. They might not ha!e adopted words like bad=mouthing or 6dumping on0 someone. ]ounger people tend to pick up newly sprung=up slangy e$pressions all the time. Standard &ialect There remains another type of dialect distinction, the distinction between a standard and a nonstandard dialect. &tandard dialect is the !ariety of a language based on the speech and writing of educated nati!e speakers of that language which enables speakers of the language throughout the world to communicate intelligibly with each other, respecti!e of their social standing or regional background. " standard !ariety is generally taught in schools and to non=nati!e speakers when we are learning the language and is used in the news media and described in dictionaries and grammars. /o far as the Rnglish language is concerned, there are /tandard "merican Rnglish and /tandard *ritish Rnglish, etc. /tandard Rnglish, howe!er, is sometimes used as co!er term for all the national standard !arieties of Rnglish, which enjoys wide intelligibility throughout the Rnglish=speaking world. Reiste&s !ield o &iscourse 7ur daily li!es take us through a succession of acti!ities re-uiring the use of language. The acti!ities are di!erse and, whate!er dialect we speak, ha!e specific features of language associated with them. Bany acti!ities are connected with our job == a teacher lecturing to a group of students, a lawyer ad!ising a client, a sergeant instructing a soldier, or a scientist reading a technical report. 7ther acti!ities are part of our leisure == we may be playing basketball or boating on the lake. "t home, we may be acting as mother or father, wife or husband, daughter or son. R!ery day an indi!idual will pass through a succession of such roles and in each he or she will use features of language that are typical of the acti!ity in!ol!ed. In the type of situation in which the language acti!ity accounts for practically the whole of the rele!ant acti!ity such as an essay, a discussion, or an academic seminar, the field of the discourse is the subject matter. In situations in which the language acti!ity plays a minor part, the field is the whole e!ent, such as a register of domestic chores or of mo!ing the piano. /ield of discourse is the linguistic reflection of the purposi!e role of the language user == the type of social acti!ity the language user is engaged in doing in the situation in which the te$t has occurred. That is to say, the language the user uses will show what hisLher language is 6about0, what e$perience heLshe is !erbalizing, what is 6going on0 in the speech e!ent. /ome roles are non=specialist in nature and relate to non=specialist fields such as 6establishing personal contact0 or 6phatic communion0. They are likely to ha!e related topics5 weather, health, news, etc. 1ook at the following, for instance5 Ieff5 Bornin0, /tane /tan5 Hi. How0s it goin0J Ieff5 7h, can0t e$plain, I guess. 2eady for the meeting this afternoonJ /tan5 Gell, I can0t ha!e much choice. 7ther fields of discourse such as gossip, general conversation, personal letters, in a similar way, tend to ha!e shifts of topic and subject matter, each of which could be the realization of a dominant field of discourse. *ut these shifts are better thought of as characteristic of the non=specialist nature of the field of casual con!ersation. Ge call phatic communion, gossip, casual con!ersation and personal letters non=technical fields of discourse. 7n the other hand, the roles of teacher, lawyer, sergeant, scientist, e$pert and informed enthusiast relate to specialist fields, and are more likely to ha!e a one=to=one relationship to fields. Ge call these technical fields of discourse. There are indefinitely many fields depending on how detailed we wish our discussion to be. 1earned (or scholarly language co!ers a wide range of subject matter (such as linguistics, psychology, mathematics, medicine, history, literary criticism, generally distinguished as the field of scientific discourse. "pplications of technology are reflected in instructional writing, itself included within technical language. ?ield of discourse can be more or less restricted in language. R$treme cases are the languages of parade=ground drills and knitting patterns which ha!e a !ery restricted purpose and therefore a !ery limited number of le$ical items and grammatical patterns == they admit little idiolectal !ariety. 7n the parade=ground, the army instructor, no matter who heLshe is, has to shout at the top of hisLher !oice such set words of command as 7n fours, fall ine 2eady alle "ttentione Ryes righte 2eady fronte L Ryes fronte /houlder armse 2ight facee ?orward marche "lso restricted are knitting instructions, such as5 Qsing <o. l4 needles cast on l4) (8845 88&5 8): sts. Ist row F). n#), F). rep from n to end. ) nd row #c, n#), #). rep from n to end. 2ep 8st and )nd rows until work measures ' in, The language of legal documents and the language of religious obser!ance are also highly situation=tied. In these, not only is a certain usage insisted upon but also a certain e$act form of wording. The high incidence of conjunctional phrases in legal documents is striking5 without let or hindrance the messuage or dwelling house the last will and testament The language of casual con!ersation, on the other hand, is little restricted in terms of purpose, usage or wording. Technical fields ha!e their own special !ocabulary and fa!ourite grammatical patterns. /ome le$ical items or collocations of (two or more le$ical items can almost identify a certain field all by themsel!es5 cleanse in the language of ad!ertising, probe of newspaper, tablespoonful of recipes or prescriptions, free kick of football, thinned right down of hair= dressingH to say nothing of !arious technical 6jargons0, which are e!en more peculiar to their respecti!e fields. Grammatically, we notice fre-uent use of passi!e !erbal groups and nominalized clauses in scientific RnglishH thus not usually ]ou can rectify this fault if you insert a wedge. but rather 2ectification of this fault is achie!ed by insertion of a wedge... Bore radical grammatical differences are found in the language of legal documents5 #ro!ided that such payment as aforesaid shall be a condition precedent to the e$ercise of the option herein specified... and in newspaper headlines5 3e!elopment #lan for Harlem ?ought "ll these formal properties are often a necessary part of specialist communication. 'ode o &iscourse .ode of discourse is the linguistic reflection of the relationship that the language user has to the medium of communication. Iust as we switch roles through the day, so we continuously change the medium through which communication takes place. ?or most of us, speaking is used much more than writing. "lmost all person=to=person contact in!ol!es use of speech. 7ur family relationships, our leisure interests, and many occupational interactions are e$pressed in speech. *ut whether we do much writing depends on the nature of our job. Bany ha!e to write a lot during work time while some ne!er write at all. "lthough it is commonly said that writing is speech written down, or that writing is !isual language while speaking is audible, writing and speaking ordinarily ser!e different purposes and ha!e somewhat different characteristics. Ge know that spoken language is often full of false starts, interruptions, repetitions, grunts, shrieks and er=s which do not appear in written te$ts. Gritten language, on the other hand, has features that do not occur in speech == the use of punctuation to direct attention to grammar, for instance. /o difference in medium can yield !ariations within the same language. They reflect the !ery different situations that the two media take place in. 7f course, further distinctions beyond the basic writtenLspoken one are possible5 within speech, there are con!ersing and monologuing, and within writing, there are te$ts 6written to be spoken as if not written0 and those 6written to be read0. <owadays, with the uni!ersal use of TA sets, an audio!isual medium has become a powerful mode. Tenor o &iscourse Tenor of discourse is the linguistic reflection of the personal relationships between speakerLwriter and hearerLreaderkcalled personal tenor, and of what the user is trying to do with language forLto his or her addressee (s == called functional tenor.n (This is Gregory0s interpretation (see Gregory [ +arroll, 8@;&5K% ff.. Halliday, howe!er, treats distinctions of rhetorical genre (language used to persuade, inform, and so on as !ariants within mode of discourse. #ersonal tenor is concerned with the degrees of formality of the language used. #eople are generally aware of their own status in relation to one another and will speak or write more or less formally or intimately, depending on how they feel about their addressee(s. They are most intimate with their own families, and rather informal with their friends and colleagues. Ghen they meet people they do not yet know, perhaps they will feel more or less neutral. In a situation of social inferiority, their language will become formal. 1etters to bank managers differ greatly from letters to best friends. Teachers call students0 first names like 6Iodat0 or 6Barium0H students call their teachers0 title plus last names like 6Br /hahzad0 or 6Biss /hams0. *ut students alone will refer to each other as 6saibu0 or 6Baru0, and to teachers as 67ld "li0 or 6/hamsi0. "ll these reflect through linguistic e$pression the degree of formality on different occasions. ?unctional tenor is concerned with the intention of the user in using the language5 Is the speakerLwriter trying to teachJ to e$plainJ to persuadeJ to e!aluateJ to enlightenJ or to amuseJ In a word, is the language being used in the communication didactic or non=didacticJ The consistent function leads to typical linguistic characteristics, just as consistent subject matter will. Ge talk of the language of ad!ertising, not because there is a particular subject matter associated with ad!ertising but because there is a consistent function == to persuade us to buy products or ser!ice. The "otion o Register "s conte$tual categories, field, mode and tenors of discourse are interrelated. ?ield is related to mode. There are things we tend to talk about and things we tend to write about. Bode, in turn, is related to personal and functional tenors5 formal and written tend to go together as informal and spoken, and the phatic function is common in the spoken mode while the descripti!e is in the written. "ctually many te$ts can be seen as a configuration of the three conte$tual features5 we can talk about many te$ts in terms of field, mode and tenors of discourse. ?or instance, a cooking recipe book belongs to a certain field == cooking, a certain mode == written to be read, and certain tenors instructional and formal, while a lecture on history belongs to a particular field history, a certain mode speaking of what is written, and certain tenors == e$pository and formal (or informal, depending on what the speaker likes it to be. " sermon e$hibits its field as religion, mode as speaking what is written, and tenors as e$horting and formal. " personal con!ersation e$hibits its field as con!ersation, mode as spoken, tenors as non=didactic and informal. TA sports commentary is ob!iously distinguished as a !ariety, with the sports field, the audio!isual medium, the functions of describing and e!aluating and the fairly informal relations between commentator and audience. The concurrence of instances of conte$tual categories == field, mode and tenors of discourse produces te$t !arieties called registers, which can be defined in terms of phonological, le$ical and grammatical features. 2egisters are distincti!e !arieties of language used in different types of situation. /ituation types and the registers associated with them are con!entionally recognized in a society, they form part of an indi!idual0s communicati!e competence, that is, heLshe can speak or write a number of such !arieties and recognize many more originating from others including professionals. " church ser!ice, an election speech, a science thesis, and an economic contract are all distincti!e in language. 7ne sentence from any of these and many more such situation types would enable himLher to identify it correctly. M)t)'l De$endence 0et!een Reiste& 'nd Di'lect Generally speaking, a language user, regardless of region, class, ethnic group or gender, can speak in many registers, since heLshe has to shift from one register to another as each situation type is replaced by another. *ut heLshe does not normally speak in dialects of other regions, classes or ethnic groups, as they are relati!ely permanent features of a language user, which are rarely manipulable by the user to fit the !arious conte$ts. Howe!er, as a citizen of a nation, heLshe may learn the language habits of another indi!idual, or time, or place, or social class, especially the standard dialect (a prestigious !ariety of language, ser!ing as a 6model0 for !arious functions, for certain uses. ?or e$ample, many +hinese merchants in Guangdong pro!ince can readily switch between 0utonghua and +antonese so as to meet the needs of their customers. In *ritain it used to be regarded as a linguistic error to gi!e a radio commentary on cricket in cockney or sing a pop song in Xueen0s Rnglish. <owadays sports commentators on **+ may speak non=standard dialectsH for a football match, a +ockney or Bidlands commentator is more likely. In the Q/, an educated *lack man can speak perfect general "mericanH but when he wants to stress his membership in his ethnic group, he will e$aggerate the *lack Rnglish features in his speech. <ot to mention those who adopt another dialect or dialects for parody, art, humour, etc. Here, the selection of one dialect rather than another in different situations is related to -uestions of language use. 1ikewise a register, especially a highly situation=tied register related to certain groups of people, such as argot, can become entirely unintelligible to other people, and thus ac-uire the feature of a dialect. /o we see the mutual dependence between dialect and register. The S#ci'l Me'nin #+ L'n)'e V'&ieties Ghen we listen to a person speaking, we can often make intelligent guesses about where he or she is from, and perhaps also what his or her socioeconomic status is, or about whether he or she wants to be informal or formal, etc. R!en a simple greeting like Hi, how y0all doingJ tells a lot about the speaker. Ge can guess, for instance, the speaker is from the Q/ (as Hi is not often used in *ritain and probably from the southeast of the country (as is shown by the second person y0allH also the speaker wants to be informal (Hi as opposed to Hello. In fact, any te$t (whether literary or non=literary is likely to con!ey many other kinds of information besides the message being communicated, such as 8 l the period of de!elopment of the language in which the speakerL writer spoke or wrote it (temporal dialectH ) the geographical area he or she is from (regional dialectH % the social group he or she belongs to (social dialectH ' the range of intelligibility of his or her language (standard or non=standard dialectH K the acti!ity he or she is engaged in (fieldH : the medium he or she is using (modeH ; the social relationship e$isting between him or her and his or her addressee(s (personal tenorH & the intention in his or her mind in con!eying the message (functional tenorH @ the distincti!e language habits he or she has shown (idiolect. "ll the abo!e are stylistically significant features of a te$t in -uestion. Chapter No STYLISTIC FEATURES OF LANGUAGE FOCUS ON • (honeticsC(honology • =rapheticsC=raphology • Semantics • =rammar AMorphology and Synta;- /peech communication employs a host of e$pressi!e means ranging from linguistic to paralinguistic and e$tralinguistic features. It is the natural language, howe!er, whose systematic !ariation on all le!els of its structure (phonology, morphology, le$icology and synta$ offers the widest possibilities of suiting its use to fit communicati!e functions of discourses in !arious conte$ts. Thus linguistic e$pressi!e means, which are systematically identified and cetegorized by linguistic stylistics (stylolinguistics, lie at the core of stylistic !ariation. Howe!er, it should be noted that as stylistically rele!ant are considered those linguistic !ariations which perform similar or alternati!e communicati!e functions and which are, in fact, competitors within a particular paradigm or category. ?rom this perspecti!e, there are language units which occur in all types of te$ts due to their neutral stylistic !alue (hence stylistically neutral units, e.g., notional words, =s plural marker. 7n the other hand, other language units bear a stylistic marker already before they are actually used, and so they tend to occur only in some types of te$ts (hence stylistically marked units, e.g., terms, some foreign plural nouns, !ulgarisms, participial constructionsH these 6bearers0 of stylistic information which may come from any linguistic plane are also called stylemes, _tyl>my, cf. BistrDk 8@@%. ?urther, not all le!els of language system offer e-ual possibilities of choice5 the most differentiated le!el is the wordstock (synonymy and polysemy, and the fewest possibilities of selection are on the phonological plane (phonemic !ariations. The possibilities of stylistic !ariations are not unlimited and some authors maintain that the importance of style is often o!erestimated (cf. ^ermCk )448. Ph#neticsBPh#n#l#( The analysis of connected speech identifies the constructional units on the phoneticLphonological plane which are either segmental = phones (realizations of abstract phonemes and syllables (basic rhythmical units, and suprasegmental (prosodic, which result from three types of sound !ariation (modulation5 temporal (speedLrate, pause, rhythm, force (loudness, stress, emphasis and tone (pitch, tune modulation. /ince the majority of the segmental phonological !ariation is offering no stylistically rele!ant options (it is primarily engaged in the differentiation of meaning, i.e., phonemes function as minimum functional units capable of distinguishing meaning, it is stylistically neutral. +ertain phonemes and their combinations, howe!er, may be subjecti!ely percei!ed as cacophonic (disagreeable to the ear, dissonant, harsh, e.g., words ha!ing the Lsl=L cluster5 sloppy, slime, or the nonsense word slithy by 1ewis +aroll or euphonic (pleasing to the ear, harmonious, e.g., lateral consonant LlL, as in lo!ely. The sound symbolism (i.e., a nonarbitrary connection between phonetic features of linguistic items and their meanings is e$ploited also in non=poetic language (e.g., occurrence of close !owels in words denoting smallness5 petite, teeny=weeny, open !owels in words denoting largeness5 large, !ast. /e!eral poetic de!ices are based on the sound instrumentation of te$t and are, besides poetry, often utilized in discourse which is concerned with e$ploiting this language potential and connoting a certain atmosphere or mood, for e$ample, public speeches, punning, jokes, children0s rhymes, commercials, product names, slogans, etc. (see #oetic f., %.'5 alliteration, assonance, consonance, (direct and indirect onomatopoeia, (perfect, half, eye, masculine, feminine, triple, internal, endLterminal, etc. rhyme, paronomasia, mimesis and synesthesia. These phonetic and phonological features used for e$pressi!e purposes are studied by phonostylistics. /ome suprasegmental phonemes, besides ha!ing a grammatical function (segmentation of syntactic units, signalling their pragmatic function, are open to stylistic e$ploitation, e.g., melody (tune, intonation, stress (prominence and pause, while others ha!e mainly stylistic function == rhythm, tempo (rate, speed, !oice intensity (loudness and timbre (!oice -uality5 rich, soft, harsh, hoarse. Ghen combined, they impress a distinguishing mark upon users of language by which, together with their physiological traits (face, posture, humans are recognized as indi!iduals (i.e., 6!oice signature0 which ser!es as an important recognizable to identify a phone caller, see also Indi!iduality. "lso, an 6accent0 (i.e., a particular way of pronunciation, emphasis pattern and intonation characteristic of the speech of a particular person, group, or locality identifies one as belonging to a particular region (e.g., /outhern accent, social class (e.g., +ockney or whether one is a nati!e speaker or a foreigner (e.g., to speak with an accent. The the three types of speech modulation (generally also called intonation are important sources of stylistic !ariation5 Te$poral 'odulation- "s to the temporal modulation, of significant stylistic rele!ance is the manner of pronunciation of sounds, e.g., free !s. lazy mo!ement of articulatory organs which produces clear !s. mumbled speech, or careful (slow !s. careless (rapid speech which is manifested, on the one hand, by clear enunciation of words (e.g., in theatre performances, pathetic or ele!ated public speeches or, on the other hand, by reduction, assimilation, slurring (e.g., in casual, rela$ed atmosphere5 /apningJ 9 Ghat 0s happeningJ or dialectal (#ittsburghese "5 Ieet jetJ *5 <o. IewJ 9 "5 3id you eat yetJ *5 <o. 3id youJ. 7!erly precise articulation which sounds stilted, affected and artificial contrasted with e$cessi!e assimilation bordering on intelligibility are the two e$tremes between which the majority of !erbal encounters occur (but note the cases where precise and careful articulation is !ital, as in air traffic controlH cf. <oise, %.8.%. The rate of one0s speech !aries with the speaker0s type of personality, momentary emotional state, situation (casual !s. solemn, the addressee, the type of speech acti!ity (sports commentary !s. saying a prayer and the subject. #ause (along with stress, and tune performs an important grammatical function of delimiting the syntactic (phrasal, clausal, sentential units (silent pause, but also is a !ery effecti!e speaking tool (a meaningful pause offers the listener time to assimilate the messageH Byers et al. (8@&& identifies as many as 88 types of silence. ?illed pauses (hesitators5 er, ehm, as a common feature of dysfluency in con!ersation, help the speaker plan what will follow or indicate incompleteness of hisLher turn. "ccording to I.3.70+onnor, there are four pronunciation styles in Rnglish == declamatory, formal collo-uial, collo-uial and familiar (cf. Qrbano!C and +hamonikolaso!C )444. 3eliberate and functional changes in tempo (agogics == slowing down or speeding up of the speech may be skillfully used by speakers to increase effecti!eness of their speeches. !orce 'odulation is characterized by the presence of (word andLor sentence stress which is often accompanied by paralanguage. The phenomenon of <ew Rnglish Gradation along with the tendency towards isochronicity, shape the marked rhythmical character of the Rnglish language. 7f significant stylistic !alue is the stress pattern e$ploited in such instances of language use where it conforms to the accepted metrical rules (metre and structure (poetry, ad!ertising slogans, chants, jingles, etc.. Aariation in loudness (amplitude le!el is used to emphasize an idea. Tone 'odulation is reflected in changing pitch (relati!e height of speech soundsH the basic unit of intonation is the tone unit (or breath group intonation contour which is marked by pitch change and pause. #itch is to a certain degree a physiological feature (e.g., women speak with a higher pitch, but its range may be functionally !aried as to its a height (higher than normal suggests solemnity, e$pressi!eness, as in public speeches while lower height may indicate sadness, b range (greater range in con!ersations or in emotionally charged utterances, lower range in official political talks, monotonous pitch le!el may signal speaker0s inhibitions, !ariation in pitch is effecti!ely used by skilled orators, c mo!ement, or different types of tone, such as fall (signals completeness, determination and assurance, rise (signals -uestioning, hesitancy, doubt, incompleteness, surprise, le!el (has linking function, fallqrise (signals limited agreement, response with reser!ations, riseqfall (strong appro!al or disappro!al, surprise, but also irony, sarcasm and subtle meanings. ?alling tune is an important signal of the end of the turn constructional unit in dialogue. Tone fluctuation (intonation performs attitudinal, accentual, grammatical and discourse functions (cf. Ptekauer 8@@%. It should be noted that, in the flow of speech, the prosodic features are e$ploited simultaneously to produce a synergistic effectH for e$ample, in e$pressing emotions (anger, fear, all three systems of modulation, such as speed, loudness, tone !ariation, !oice -uality along with paralinguistic means (facial e$pressions, gestures and posture interact. "lso, prosody correlates with the situational !ariablesH for e$ample, the le!el of loudness (whisper, soft !oice, low !olume, slight loudness, full !oice is a function of interpersonal distance (intimate, personal, social, official, audience size (dyad, small group, small audience, large audience, message type (secret, confidential, personal, non=personal, public and style (intimate, personal, con!ersational, public con!ersational, public ele!ated (cf. 2oss 8@&@. G&'$heticsBG&'$h#l#( Aerbal communication proceeds through two primary media, spoken and written, which differ in channel, circumstances, purposes, format, and in many linguistic aspects. Gritten te$t emerges by the application of the graphic substance of writing onto a surface. "nalogously to the phoneLphoneme and phoneticsLphonology dichotomies in the spoken language, we differentiate between graphemes as abstract units of graphological plane capable of distinguishing meaning, and graphs as their realizations in concrete (handwritten, typed, scratched, etc. writing. The former are systematically studied by graphology, the latter by graphetics (e.g., the direction of writing, writing implements and types of surface (cf. +rystal 8@&;. It should be realized that writing (i.e., using an alphabet as a system of characters representing the sounds of a language holds a central place among other modes (pictorial and schematic of graphic e$pression in this !isual medium. Rnglish makes use of the 1atin alphabetH due to the historical de!elopment of the language, one phoneme may ha!e more than one grapheme and, con!ersely, one grapheme may represent more than one phoneme. There are tendencies towards simplification of Rnglish writing, i.e., towards establishing the simple grapheme=phoneme correspondence. In written te$ts, the following features are rele!ant for the study of stylistic !ariation (enormous possibilities of their 6orchestration0 yield particular 6atmosphere0 of te$t5 a handwriting == graphology (the study of handwriting, esp. when regarded as an e$pression of the writer0s character and personality is interested in the features like page size and layout, line direction, regularity, angle, space design, etc., including features of calligraphyH printing (typography studies the general features or appearance of printed (written, pictorial and schematic matter (8', b direction of writing, con!entional left=to=right or marked top= to=bottom (in ad!ertisements, neon signs, c direction of readingL!iewing ( linear (no!el or non=linear (dictionary entries, interacti!e computer programmes, computer hyperte$ts with links in both directions, printed ad!ertisemets, newspaper articles in esp. popular types of press, d surface types ( sheets of paper, building walls (graffiti, computer monitor screens, etc., e writing implements (the technology of writing ( chalk, pencil, ink, spray, laser, electronic signal in word processing, etc., f the layout of the te$t on the page == spatial organization (title, subtitle, o!erline, marginal notes, references, etc. reflects the topical and logical (rhetorical considerations (cf. also in the tradition of concrete poetry, g shape, size and type of font ha!e direct impact upon readability, which is of major concern in journalism, h capitalization draws attention to the words denoting uni-ue objects (proper names or important words among others (titles, also con!eys loudness, boldface (thick lines used for emphasis, italics (letters sloping to the right to separate different kinds of information, to emphasize it or e$press loudness, repetition of letters (carries hesitancy in speech representation, underlining, i paragraphing signals thematically relati!ely independent units of te$t, introduced by an indentation, spacing and columnar organization (narrow newspaper columns increase readability, j tables, graphs, schemes are specific genres with their specific features, grammar, le$is, k photographs, charts, illustrations, l special symbols (logograms, asterisk, superscript numbers, m abbre!iations, acronyms, n colour is an important symbolic system with a high communicati!e !alueH note the symbolism of indi!idual colours in social communication (white !s. black and e$isting crosscultural differences. /ynaesthesia is a sensation produced in one modality when a stimulus is applied to another modality, e.g., the hearing of a certain sound brings about the !isualization of a certain colour, a colour (red incites certain sensations (warmth, o geometrical patterns and forms (s-uare, triangle, circle choreograph all the (subcomponents of a message in creating a te$t as a multilayered structure. Graphic symbolism (similar to sound symbolism is a purposeful manipulation of graphic resources aimed at achie!ing an effecti!e transmission of a message or a special effect (wordplay, humour. It should be noted that readers often unconsciously transfer between se!eral symbolic modes (le$ical, social=gestural, iconic, logico=mathematical and musical, yet a message is comprehended as a homogeneous whole. Speech +s- .riting- It is useful to treat speaking and writing as two principal cultural=social technologies (2. 1akoff separately, although the e$istence of a strict line of demarkation between the two has often been denied (cf. intermediary cases like secret messages written on slips of paper passed during classes, or internet chat. 7!er centuries they ha!e e!ol!ed into two complementary media with their own distinct properties, functional justification and independent spheres of operation == in particular situations and for particular purposes either one or the other is preferred. The technology of writing employs graphic e$pressi!e means (esp. the alphabet, but also some metagraphological means, such as punctuation as a way of bridging the gap between the time and place of message production and the time and place of message reception. In the course of human history !arious systems of writing ha!e been designed (e.g., pictographic, ideographic, logographic, syllabic, alphabeticH howe!er, none of them has managed to attain a perfect correspondence between the spoken (phoneme and the written (grapheme form of language. ?urther, writing pro!ides only a poor system of means for e$pressing emotional or !olitional aspects of a message. The system of con!entional punctuation marks (apostrophe, colon, e$clamation mark, semicolon, comma, dash, hyphen, parentheses, period, -uestion mark, -uotation marks is used to represent suprasegmental features like intonation, tempo, timbre, stress, intensity, and to signal the pragmatic meaning of utterances (e.g., interrogation, e$clamation. "s a graphic means of signalling the suprasegmental features of language, punctuation is primarily the matter of grammar == one of the properties of a 6good style0 is a certain minimum of punctuation which is necessary to secure the intelligibility of writing (cf. Bacpherson 8@@:. /econdarily, punctuation is also a concern of stylistics since, for e$ample, the degree of presence of punctuation (dashes is the function of emotionalLpersonal in!ol!edness. 7rthography as a prescripti!e area of study is concerned with the rules (applied to all le!els of language structure of transferring speech into writing (proper capitalization, spelling and punctuation according to the rules of accepted usage. The le!el of mastering the written medium of language in a literate society is associated with social prestige andLor stigmatization. The permanence of writing enables it to perform some specific cultural functions (aesthetic function in literature, historical records, contracts, sacred writings, etc.. The essential differences between speaking and writing caused by the conditions in which communication takes place may be presented in the form of se!eral dichotomies (cf. +rystal 8@&;, Qrbano!C and *illingam 8@&:, Hoffmanno!C 8@&;, *rown and ]ule 8@&%, B.".F. Halliday 8@&@5 a physical contact5 immediate !s. non=immediate, b substance5 phonic !s. graphic, c channel5 oral=auditory !s. !isual, d manner of production5 on=line, under immediate pressure !s. not immediate pressure, process !s. product, e system5 phonological (segmental, suprasegmental and paralinguistic features !s. graphological (graphemes, punctuation, typography, f temporal status5 transcient !s. permanent, g number of participants5 two andLor more (dialogue, trilogue, polylogue !s. one, h character of interaction5 dynamic !s. static, i purpose5 interactional (establishing and maintaining social contact, see #hatic function !s. transactional (con!eying messages, j communicati!e function5 all, esp. directi!e, e$pressi!e and phatic !s. all but directi!e, e$pressi!e and phatic functions suppressed, k format5 dialogical !s. monological, l le!el of formality (see Tenor5 informality !s. formality, m type of feedback5 immediate !s. not immediate, delayed (or minimum, n (nati!e language ac-uisition5 spontaneous !s. learned !ia instruction, o conte$tualization5 conte$tualized !s. deconte$tualized, implicit (!ague !s. e$plicit (definite, p redundancy5 higher !s. lower, - nature of comple$ity5 dynamic and intricate !s. static and dense, r degree of preparedness5 spontaneous, unprepared !s. planned, prepared, s topic5 orientation towards social relationships !s. towards content, t time orientation5 prospecti!eness !s. retrospecti!ness, u !ariety5 !ernacular !s. standard. Howe!er useful, these dichotomies are simplifying the complicated relationship between the two media since the boundary between them is rather imaginary and also because they are often transgressedH for e$ample, a lecture on stylistics deli!ered for an auditorium of students (i.e., 6spoken writing0 may be recorded and published (i.e., 6written speaking0. "lso, as a lecture is an instance of transactional use of spoken language, it is e$pected that students write down their notes and keep the written record for their future reference. ?or the same reason (i.e., the transience of speech, radio andLor TA newscasters tend to repeat the headlines of news stories. +onse-uently, it is of greater use to talk about a continuum between speech and writing rather than about their polarity and to identify their more or less typical e$amples (1eech et al. 8@&)58'45 con!ersation in a pub, seminar, telephone con!ersation, personal letter, job inter!iew, radio discussion, tele!ision ad!ertisement, lecture, sermon, script of a play, tele!ision news, newspaper, business letter, this book. "n attempt to cope with the not entirely satisfactory speech !s. writing dichotomy is the notion of mode which includes a comple$ of linguistic features associated with either one of the two media (cf. Bc+arthy and +arter 8@@'. ?or e$ample, a lecture read before a class is ob!iously of spoken medium but of written mode (as it contains a host of features of written language. +on!ersely, casual e=mail correspondence or internet chat is produced in the written medium, but its mode is spoken (cf. ?erenEDk )444. The ad!antage of this approach is that while medium offers the eitherLor choice, mode pro!ides a scale of continuous gradation (cline. The following is a list of some common linguistic characteristics of speech and writing. Speech: fre-uent occurrence of the means of e$ophoric reference (demonstrati!e pronouns and e$pressions of temporal and spatial dei$is (due to the situational boundedness of speech, looser structure, repetition, rephrasing, filler phrases (you know, hesitations, repairs, reformulations, self corrections, filled (fillers5 erm, mhm or unfilled pauses, units of language marked off by intonation and pause, incomplete (chunks of phrasal and clausal structural units, ellipsis, coordination (parata$is pre!ails o!er subordination, acti!e !oice pre!ails, rare (if=, wh= clefting, ju$taposition (placing units close together or side by side, polysyndeton (using conjunctions in close succession, esp. and, but, then, asyndeton (omission of conjunctions, incomplete structures ( aposiopesis (sudden halt in the midst of an utterance for emotional reasons, anacoluthon (a break in grammatical se-uence, syntactic blend, ellipsis (omissions enabled by redundancy or a!ailability of missing information in the situation, background knowledge, a tendency to structure information according to the pattern 6topic ( comment0, marked word order, lower information density, le$ical sparsity, generalized !ocabulary (great, stuff like that, slang, collo-uialisms, -ualifying e$pressions (sort of, kind of, e$pleti!es == taboo and swear words (good grief, prop words (non=specific words substituting specific words5 whatsisname, whatsit, interjections (wow, stereotypical ritualized formulae (greetings, introductions, etc., address terms, etc. .riting: more carefully organized (layout, often elaborate organization (metalingualLdiscourse markers like first, ne$t, finally, cf. Betalingual function, comple$ syntactic structures, greater compactness, more 6polished0, clear sentence boundaries (punctuation and greater sur!eyability of te$t (layout, typeface gradation, paragraphing, fre-uent subordination (hypota$is e$plicitly signalling semantic relations (logical connectors, great !ariety of subordinating conjunctions, fre-uent pre= and postmodification esp. within noun phrases, the 6subject=predicate0 as an unmarked syntactic pattern, complete structures, elaborate grammatical and le$ical cohesion, higher information density, rich and !aried !ocabulary, +ertain features of grammar and le$ical items are more common in one or the other medium, e.g., the means of comple$ condensation (participial constructions are more common in writing (unless they are used in public speeches, comple$ chemical compounds are ne!er spoken (e.g., a 8,@8%=letter=long protein, 1ederer 8@&@. There are spoken genres without written counterparts5 radioLTA commentaries of sports e!ents, (partly taboo and swear wordsH written genres with no spoken counterparts include statute books, timetables, charts. Bodern technological de!ices further blurr the difference between speech and writing5 talking across distances !ia a (mobile, satellite phone, greeting cards for !arious occasions (phatic function, lea!ing messages on phone=answering machines, e$changing audio tapes instead of letters, conser!ing samples of speech in electronic storage systems, audio books, 6con!ersing0 by e$changing short te$t messages, e=mailing, internet chatting, etc. Sem'ntics In communication, interlocutors most typically engage themsel!es in the e$change of (factual, social meaningH hence, they e$pect that messages are 6about something0, that they refer to something. *y reference we mean the relationship between words and the things, actions, e!ents, and -ualities (i.e., referents of the real or fictitious world they stand for (cf. 2ichards et al., 8@&K. The main referential carriers in language are le$emes whose system (word stock, le$icon, le$is, !ocabulary and meanings are studied by le$icology and le$icography. "lthough being an integral part of linguistics, it is an interdisciplinary area studied by semasiology, onomasiology, semantics, semiotics and pragmatics. ?rom the !iewpoint of its stylistic potential, le$is offers enormous possibilities of selection == stylistic !ariation is then to a !ery large degree a matter of the words used. 7f primary importance then are the ways le$ical items are organized in the word stock. There are se!eral types of paradigmatic and syntagmatic relationships e$isting within the le$icon. ?or stylistic purposes, Galperin (8@;; presents the system of stylistic classification of Rnglish !ocabulary which consists of three o!erlapping layers5 1/ (unmarked neutral layer ( being the most stable le!el it forms the bulk of Rnglish !ocabulary, its 6common core0, includes field=nonspecific words, is the source of polysemy and synonymy and renders itself for the word=formation processes, ). (marked literary layer consisting of a common literary words (used esp. in writing and polished speech, and b special literary words, which include terms and learned words (terminology of sciences, poetic words (highly ele!ated !ocabulary, archaic words (obsolescent, obsolete, archaic proper, barbarisms and foreign words (foreignisms, literaryLterminological coinages (including nonce=words, %. (marked collo-uial layer contains words which ha!e li!ely spoken character5 a common collo-uial words, b special collo-uial words which include slang (e.g., college slang, rap slang, military slang, jargonisms, professional words (e.g., journalese, dialectal words, !ulgar words, collo-uial coinages (nonce=words. The neutral layer along with the o!erlapping areas of common literary words and common collo-uial words form the /tandard Rnglish !ocabulary. The relations between the neutral and common collo-uialLcommon literary words is represented by e$isting chains of synonymsH actually, these are not pure synonyms (absolute synonymy is e$tremely rare as ha!ing two words with identical meaning would be inefficient since there are always certain differences in semantic features (semes, analyzed by the method of componential analysis in semantics, some stylistic (connotational differences as well as differences in the le!el of formality. In principle, this type of synonymy parallels the main historical sources from which Bodern Rnglish !ocabulary has been fed and demonstrates its o!erall three=tiered character (1ederer 8@@8, Aachek 8@;&5 a GreekL1atin !ocabulary characterized by precision, learnedness, abstractness, dignity, etc. (e.g., interrogate, defunct, ascend, also called 6long0 or 6big0 words, b ?rench !ocabulary characterized by grandeur, sonority and courtliness (e.g., -uestion, deceased, mount, c "nglo=/a$on !ocabulary, the basis of Rnglish le$iconH because of its greater concreteness, bre!ity (hence 6short0 words, plainness and directness. This layer is characterized by !i!idness and comparati!ely stronger emotional appeal (e.g., ask, dead, rise. These large groups of near=synonyms are associated with register shifts (formal, neutral, informalH consistency of the once chosen le!el is of crucial importance, as well as a need to perform a 6translation0 between the le!els when switching or accommodating the code. Generally speaking, the use of synonyms pre!ents monotony and stereotypy of e$pression and, esp. due to the e$istence of rows of synonyms, adds !i!idness to the style (e.g., peep, peek, glance, glimpse, stare, watch are all possible alternati!es to look. /ynonymy on the phrase le!el is called periphrasis (a roundabout form of e$pression, circumlocution, e.g., father of my children. 3ifferent sentences ha!ing the same meaning are paraphrases (including the acti!eLpassi!e transformation which are often used as restatements to render the meaning more clearly, as when talking to foreigners, children, lay people, etc. Aiewed from the onomasiological (meaning=to=form perspecti!e, other semantic relations are antonymy (gradable5 very bigBsmall, nongradableA maleBfemale, converseA parentBchild, hyponymy (car, bus, train are co=hyponyms of !ehicle, hyperonymy (flowerBtulip. "ll these types of le$ical relations are used in te$ts as a means of their le$ical cohesion and on the deep (semantic le!el they realize their semantic coherence. The sense relations among le$emes seen from the semasiological (form=to=meaning perspecti!e are polysemy (foot of a legBthe stairs, homonymy (chase K to pursue and chase K to ornament metal, homophony (noBknow, homography (leadBlead. #olysemy and homonymy are major sources of le$ical ambiguity and an unemptiable supply of material for language punnery (the art of !erbal humour5 malapropism (after T. /heridan0s Brs. Balaprop, e.g., I hope that you remember me, you were interrupter for my cousinH the intended word 9 interpreter, spoonerism (transpositions of sounds, slips of the tongue, e.g., Is the bean dizzyJ, pun based on homophony (Ghat0s black and white and redLread all o!erJ " newspaper.L#ra!da., the what0s the difference between pun (Ghat0s the difference between an engine=dri!er and a schoolteacherJ 7ne minds the train, the other trains the mind, zeugma (the use of a word to modify two or more words when a it is appropriate to only one of them, as in to wage war and peace, or b is appropriate to each but in a different way, as in 7n his fishing trip, he caught three trout and a cold, palindrome (Badam in Rden, I0m "dam, etc. #unning is commonly employed in ad!ertising slogans (e.g., +hildren under 8' must be accompanied by money and daddy written outside an amusement park, in te$ts of some licence plates (IR3Q+& 9 I educate, on a licence plate belonging to a teacher, etc. "nother a!enue to approach semantics of le$emes which is rele!ant for the study of style is differentiating between denotati!e (referential, cogniti!e, notional, conceptual and connotati!e (associati!e, emoti!e, e$pressi!e, social, stylistic meanings. The former are considered as basic and stylistically neutralH a traditional concern of stylistics has been the latter type of meaning. Howe!er, it may be difficult to disassociate these two meanings from each other5 it is impossible to imagine absolutely neutral denotati!e meanings depri!ed of any associati!e potential. Boreo!er, some words ha!e connotations built into their meanings (e.g. darling, honey, mistress, spinster, '=letter words, such as nnnn. These are e$ploited esp. in fiction, poetry, but also in journalism, ad!ertising, political propaganda, since connotations are e!oked also by rhythm, repetition, sound instrumentalization, etc. " special type of connotati!e meanings is figurati!e (non=literal meanings, esp. metaphorical meanings. *ased on this are some literary or rhetorical de!ices known as tropes (figures of speech, forming the in!entory of poetic and rhetorical de!ices since the +lassical times5 simile (beha!e like an ass, metaphor (i.e., understanding of one concept in terms of anotherH plays an important role in the conceptualization of reality by humans and is by no means restricted to poetry only, e.g., waste one0s timeH dead metaphors5 a field of study, metonymy (The speaker addressed the chair and synecdoche (there wasn0t a soul around. 7ther figures of speech used also in non=literary language (esp. in ad!ertising persuasion and political propaganda (cf. #oetic function which are based on the principle of repetition are anaphora (sentences or !erses begin with the same word, epiphora (epistrophe, i.e., the repetition of a word or words at the end of successi!e !erses, anadiplosis (repetition in the first part of a clause or !erse of a prominent word from the latter part of the preceding clause or !erse, symploce (the simultaneous use of anaphora and epiphora, epanalepsus (the last word of a sentence is repeated at the beginning of the ne$t5 "ll for one, one for all, epanodos (identical word used at both ends of sentences, *oys will be boys, epizeu$is (identical words are se-uentially repeated, paronomasia (using similar words, recurrence of the same syllable or word5 "men ... "h mene, polyptoton (repetition of forms of the same le$eme5 Ghen better automobiles are built, *uick will build them, hyperbole (e$aggeration5 to wait an eternity, litotes (understatement5 not bad at all, asyndeton, apostrophe (7 3eath, where is thy stingJ, allusion, personification, parado$, catachresis (a strained use of words occurring either in error or for rhetorical effect, e.g., /hakespeare0s parting is such a sweet sorrow, euphemism (an inoffensi!e substitute for an 6unpleasant0 word5 crisis 9 war, collateral damage 9 killing of ci!ilians in a military attack, o$ymoron (Good griefe, clima$ (gradation, anticlima$ and antithesis. /yntagmatic relations of le$ical units are manifested by their tendency to collocate (co= occur. There are predictable (head o!er heels in lo!e, fish and chips and less predictable collocations (recording headH collocates of some words (e.g., get, take, ha!e are totally unpredictable and as fi$ed collocations they are idiomatic. 3ifferent spheres of human acti!ity (esp. sciences, arts, crafts are linguistically associated with their own collocations (see ?ield. G&'mm'& 8M#&$h#l#( 'nd S(nt'39 /ince language used in !erbal communication beha!es like a holistic system, a shift made on one le!el is projected onto other le!els as well ( a change of style from formal to informal in!ol!es, in spoken form, not only a progressi!e reduction of unstressed syllables and employment of articulatory effort=sa!ing de!ices (assimilation, assibilation, elision, but it permeates also both le$ical and grammatical le!els. +ompare the following renditions of the 6same0 message (1eech and /!art!ik8@;K5 a 7n the decease of his father, Br. *rown was obliged to seek alternati!e employment (!ery formal, stilted, written medium, b "fter his father0s death, #eter had to change his job (neutral, 6common core0, c Ghen his dad died, #ete had to get another job (casual, spoken medium. The in!entory of 6grammatical stylistics0 includes !ariability in the area of primary and secondary categories (word classes and forms and syntactical constructions which are, howe!er, approached from the !iewpoint of their functional acceptability (which allows for indi!idual creati!ityH e.g., plural nonce=words bathtubim, methren, dra, cf. 1ederer 8@&@ rather than grammatical correctness. The following is a brief list of some common grammatical features belonging to the three contrasting 6le!els of usage0 based on the criterion of a medium5 spoken !s. written, b formality le!el5 informal !s. formal, and c politeness le!el5 familiar !s. polite. The features labelled as spoken, informal and familiar tend to coalesce, as do features marked as written, familiar and polite, although crossrelationships are common (e.g., spoken formal, written informal, spoken polite, etc. (cf. 1eech and /!art!ik 8@;K, constructional principles of grammar of spoken language in *iber et al., 8@@@, 1eech et al., 8@&)5 8. grammatical features marked as written, formal and polite5 participial and !erbless clauses, =it cleft sentences, ad!erbs of 6listing0 and 6adding0 (first(ly, ne$t, last(ly, to begin with, 1atin abbre!iations (!iz, eg, ie, 8st person pronoun we for 8 (Ge ha!e demonstrated ..., one as a pronoun of indefinite reference, despite, notwithstanding as prepositions of contrast, singular concord with indefinite e$pressions of amount (none of them has arri!ed, formulaic subjuncti!e (ele!ated or archaic5 God rest ye merry, gentlemen, modal may for permission and in!itation, subject=operator in!ersion (<ot a word did he say, rhetorical, subject=!erb in!ersion ("way went the car..., literary, in!ersion as a signal of subordination (Had I known, I would not ha!e come..., future progressi!e to indicate 6as a matter of course0 futurity (Ghen will you be coming againJ, formulaic re-uests (I would be grateful if..., passi!e and introductory it as indicators of impersonal style (public notices, administrati!e and legal te$ts, elaborate refusals of in!itations (That0s !ery kind of you, but..., see #reference organization, past tense used to indicate tentati!eness at present (3id you want to see me ...J meaning 3o you want ... , ). grammatical features marked as spoken, informal and familiar5 preference for asyndetic coordinations and ju$taposition, contraction of au$iliaries, parenthetical structures, do used for emotional emphasis, greetings, !ocati!es, !ariety of non=clausal units == inserts (interjections, greetings, discourse markers, response elicitors, hesitators, e$pleti!es, tripartite structure of utterances5 preface(s, body, tag(s, pronouns with indefinite reference (They say..., final placement of a preposition, plural concord with indefinite e$pressions of amount (none of them ha!e arri!ed, omission of that in nominal clauses, get=passi!es, phrasal !erbs, ellipsis, etc. The correlation between the primary morphological categories (openLle$ical and closedLfunction word classes and the type of functional style (register is indicated by the le$ical density (cf. *iber et al. 8@@@5 because of the weakened informational aspect of spoken language (con!ersation, there tend to be fewer le$ical words than function words (hence lower le$ical density and inserts e$press emotional and interactional meanings. +on!ersely, in written language, le$ical words pre!ail while no inserts are used ( hence higher le$ical density. "s to the o!erall distribution of word classes among some types of te$ts, nouns ha!e a tendency to dominate in written te$ts == they are primarily engaged in the transmission of factual informationH this is structurally reflected in the comple$ noun phrases containing pre= and post=modification (nouns are commonly accompanied by adjecti!e phrases as their modifiers. /peech which is engaged pre!ailingly in addressing dynamic aspects of reality (e!ents and because of its primary focus on sharing e$perience and reinforcing relations (narrati!es commonly utilizes !erbs (along with ad!erbsH this is manifested in a higher number of shorter clausal units and generally lower le$ical density. The degree to which word forms (types are repeated in !arious te$ts, the type<token ratio (TT2, may be used as another indicator of !ariability5 TT2 !aries naturally with the length of te$ts (because of a greater repetition, longer te$ts ha!e lower TT2 and with medium. In general, speech has lower TT2 (lower information density, spontaneous, less ad!anced planning, repetition while the TT2 of writing is higher. The structural !ariability (comple$ity of grammatical units abo!e the le!el of word (phrase, clause can be measured by a the number of modifiers and clause elements (9 horizontal comple$ity, b the number of subordinate phrases and clauses (9 !ertical comple$ity, embedding, c the location of !ertical comple$ity (left !s. right branching. The constructional comple$ity of phrases and clauses !aries according to medium5 speech is characterized by simple phrases and shorter clauses, lower degree of embedding and e$tensi!e use of non=clausal material, writing is marked by comple$ phrases, longer clauses with multiple embeddings while non=clausal material is of a different character (headlines, book titles, tables, lists. Indi!idual functional styles are marked for specific grammatical featuresH for e$ample, academic te$ts are marked for elaborateness of syntactic structure (structural comple$ity, multiplicity of subordination on phrase and clause le!el, !arious types of subordinate clauses, e$plicit logical connectedness, higher TT2, lower redundancy, e$tensi!e use of nominal structures and semi=predicati!e constructionsH administrati!e te$ts are also characterized by condensed synta$ with special emphasis on the use of comple$ noun phrases (of=geniti!e being common postmodification and impersonal style (passi!e, generic subjectH public speaking makes use of constructions directly appealing to the audience (rhetorical -uestions and of fre-uent repetition (anaphoraH ad!ertising e$ploits a !ariety of forms and constructions to secure the desired effect (in this aspect it is close to the language of literature, etc. There is an in!entory of phenomena belonging to phraseLclause grammar (esp. pronouns, linking de!ices, ellipsis, functional sentence perspecti!e, word order, discourse markers, inserts, etc. which participate in the construction of entire te$ts and which can be systematically e$plained only on their background (for the factors determining the word order in Rnglish see Aachek 8@@K. These phenomena can be dealt with separately within the rubric of synta$ of units of language larger than a single sentence, !iz. hypersynta$. 7ne of its primary concerns is the relation between a sentence as a systemic (langue unit and a sentence (utterance as its te$tual (parole realization. 7b!iously, the employment of abstract sentence patterns in esp. casual spontaneous speech is associated with !arious irregularities and modifications of underlying clause patterns, e.g., reduction (in elliptical constructions, minor sentences such as !ant someJ are, howe!er, communicati!ely complete, e$pansion (insertion of parentheses, detachement, appendage, peripheral elements (prefaces, tags, !ocati!es, discourse markers, etc. ?rom hypersynta$ there is but a short step to the in!estigation of the 6te$t le!el0 of language with the aim of describing the 6grammar of te$t0. The multifaceted nature of naturally occurring (spoken or written language has led to the rise of a number of competing approaches which, by employing !arious perspecti!es, pursue the study of how samples of language=in=use are structured, what !arious factors are in!ol!ed in their production and interpretation and how these factors are related to form meaningful wholes. Chapter No LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE Lite&'&( St(listics FOCUS ON • Theoretical Bac6ground • Some =eneral !eatures o the Literary Language • Literal Language and !igurati&e Language • Language in (oetry • Language in !iction • Language in )rama There is a !ery close relationship between language and literature. The part of linguistics that studies the language of literature is termed literary stylistics. It focuses on the study of linguistic features related to literary style. The#&etic'l C'c,&#)nd 7ur pursuit of style, the most elusi!e and fascinating phenomenon, has been enhanced by the constant studies of generations of scholars, 6/tyle0, the phenomenon, has been recognized since the days of ancient rhetoricH 6stylistic0, the adjecti!e, has been with us since 8&:4H 6stylistics0, the field, is perhaps the creation of bibliographers. (3olores *urton, 8@@4 Helmut Hatzfeld was the first biographer of stylistics and his work in A +ritical )ibliography of the @ew &tylistics (8@K% was continued by 1ouis Bilic0s &tyle and &tylistics (8@:;, 2ichard *ailey and 3olores *urton0s 'nglish &tylistics (8@:& and Iames *ennett0s A )ibliography of &tylistics and Related +riticism (8@&:. Qntil Helmut Hatzfeld brought out his bibiography the word 6stylistics0 had not appeared in the title of any Rnglish book about style although 6stylisti-ue0 had appeared in ?rench titles, beginning in 8@4K with +harles *ally0s Traite de stylistiue francaise. The distinction between the ?rench 6stylisti-ue0 (with implications of a system of thought and the Rnglish 6stylistics0 (with the connotation of science reflects the trends manifested in the grouping of bibliographies from the more narrowly focused !iew of stylistics in the 8@:4s, when computer science and generati!e grammar led many to hope for more precise ways of describing their impressions of style, to *ennett0s bibliography which co!ers books published from 8@:; to 8@&%. The content of each preceding bibliographykHatzfeld, Bilic, *aiey and *urtonkwas dri!en by the compilers0 perception of a re!olution in the field. Hatzfeld0s first bibliography (8@K) was prompted in part by the ,new studies in style in!estigation, which were...being produced by scholars like Farl Aossler, 1eo /pitzer, Rugen 1erch, +harles *elly and others.. Bilic saw the de!elopment of linguistics as a spur to a growing interest in the study of style. The work of *ailey and *urton felt a need to find a common thread in a field characterized by a wide range of theories, methods, disciplines, and languages and described is as a ,shared concern for the language of literature.. *ennett0s work, while sharing with its predecessors a concern for ,the theoretical or practical study of the language of literary works., recognizes the reformer0s zeal in recent de!elopments in the field5 ,The old, indeed traditional con!iction that literature has a cogniti!e and communicati!e function has come to the fore again and has freed the literary te$t from its artificial isolation.. The preceding discussion and other studies show that the 8@:4s witnessed the firm establishment of modern stylistics and e!er since then the discipline has been de!eloping at an enormous speed. "s +arter and /impson (8@&@ obser!ed, at ,the risk of o!ergeneralization and o!ersimplification, we might say that if the 8@:4s was a decade of formalism in stylistics, the 8@;4s a decade of functionalism and the 8@&4s a decade of discourse stylistics, then the 8@@4s could well become the decade in which socio=historical and socio=cultural stylistic studies are a main preoccupation.. "t the present, according to /hen ()444, the most recent trends of de!elopment in stylistics are characterized by two major features. ?irst, the socio=historical and socio= cultural stylistic studies are gaining momentum. /econd, there is a trend of ,plural=heads de!elopment., i.e. different schools of stylistics compete for de!elopment and new schools emerge e!ery now and then. S#me Gene&'l Fe't)&es #+ the Lite&'&( L'n)'e Ghat seems to distinguish lirerary from non=literary usage may be the e$tent to which the phonological, grammatical and semantic features of the language are salient, or foregrounded in some way. The phonological aspect will be outlined later on. In this section, we shall briefly discuss the grammatical and semantic aspects. !oregrounding and 0ra$$atical !or$ +onsider the following e$amples, both of which describe inner city decay in the Q./. The first is from the 7bser!er ()@ <o!ember 8@@K5 R$. 8 The 8@:4 dream of high rise li!ing soon turned into a nightmare. In this sentence, there is nothing grammatically unusual or 6de!iant0 in the way the words of the sentence are put together. Howe!er, in the following !erse from a poem, the grammatical structure seems to be much more challenging and makes more demands on our interpretati!e processing of these lines5 R$. ) ?our storeys ha!e no windows left to smash *ut in the fifth a chipped sill buttresses Bother and daughter the last mistresses 7f that black block condemmed to stand, not crash. The sentence in line ) of this !erse that starts with )ut in the fifth is unusual in that the predicate of the sentence is made up of a se-uence of embedded elements, as we can see if we write them out in a full form5 ," chipped sill buttresses mother and daughter who are the last mistresses of that black block which is condemned to stand, not crash.. ?urthermore, the main !erb in this sentence is buttress. This word can be either a noun or a !erb, but we would argue that it is more likely to occur as a noun in less literary conte$ts. In literary te$ts, the grammatical system of the language is often e$ploited, e$perimented with, or in Bukaro!sky0s words, made to ,de!iate from other, more e!eryday, forms of language, and as a result creates interesting new patterns in form and in meaning.. 7ne way that this happens is through the use of non=con!entional structures that seem to break the rules of grammar. In the following e$tract from "ngela +arter0s no!el !ise +hildren, what is the rule that has been broken in first sentenceJ R$. % The red=haired woman, smiling, wa!ing to the disappearing shore. /he left the maharajahH she left innumerable other lights o0 passing lo!e in towns and cities and theatres and railway stations all o!er the world. *ut Belchior she did not lea!e. Ge all know that Rnglish sentences normally consist of a subject and a predicate, and that the predicate normally contains a !erbal group. Howe!er, the first sentence here contains no main finite !erb. It looks as though it should be linked to another clauseH therefore, it should not occur as an independent unit. ]et here it does occur on its own. In this e$tract, +arter also uses a marked syntactic structure in the final sentence5 *ut Belchior she did not lea!e. This structure is rather more marked than the more usual word order for Rnglish sentences, which is /ubject q Aerb q 7bject, often referred to as /A7. *y placing the direct object (Belchior before the subject and main !erb here (she did not lea!e, +arter produces a stuctural contrast between this and the pre!ious two clauses which reinforces the contrast in the meaning5 /he left the maharajah /he left innumerable other lights o0 passing lo!e Belchior she did not lea!e Lite&'l L'n)'e 'nd Fi)&'ti"e L'n)'e The first meaning for a word that a dictionary definition gi!es is usuallly its literal meaning. The literal meaning of the word tree, for e$ample, is ,a large plant.. Howe!er, once we start talking about a tree in the conte$t of a family tree for e$ample, it is no longer a literal tree we are talking about, but a figurative one. The literal use of the word tree refers to an organism which has bark, branches and lea!es. " family tree shares some of these -ualities k graghically, a plan of a family and a representation of a tree can look similar, and in a way they are both a process of organic growth, so we use the same term for both. *ut when we use the term for a plant it is a literal usage and when we use the term to describe our ancestry, it is a figurati!e usage. "nother word for the figurati!e use of language is trope, which refers to language used in a figurati!e way for a rhetorical purpose. ?or e$ample, R$. ' ?riends, 2omans and +ontrymen, lend me your ears l This is from Bark "ntony0s speech in /hakespeare0s ;ulius +aesar. Here lend me your ears is a trope, used figurati!ely for rhetorical ends in order to make more impact than a literal !ariation such as listen to me for a moment .Ge do not interpret the line literally as a wish to borrow the flesh=and=blood ears of the audience, but as a figurati!e re-uest for attention. Tropes occur fre-uently in language use and there are many different forms of tropes. In this chapter, we only ha!e space to gi!e some of them !ery brief accounts. Si$ile: " simile is way of comparing one thing with another, of e$plaining what one thing is like by showing how it is similar to anther thing, and it e$plicitly signals itself in a te$t, with the words as or like. The phrase as cold as ice is a common simileH the concept of coldness is e$plained in terms of an actual concrete object. The word as signals that the trope is a simile. ?or e$ample, the first line of the following stanza by 2obert *urns is a simile. R$. K 7, my lu!e is like a red, red rose, That0s newly sprung in IuneH 7, my lu!e is like the melodie That0s sweetly play0d in tune. To communicate his feelings, the poet in!ites the reader to percei!e in his sweet heart some of the properties of a rose. #roperties that may include are beauty, freshness, scentedness, specialness and rarity. 'etaphor: The abo!e process of transferring -ualities from one thing to another is fundamentally how another type of trope, metaphor, works too. There is a formal difference howe!er, in that the words like or as do not appear. " metaphor, like a simile, also makes a comparison between two unlike elementsH but unlike a simile, this comparison is implied rather than stated. +ompare the following two e$amples. R$. : The world is like a stage. (simile R$. ; "ll the word0s a stage, "nd all the men and women merely playersH They ha!e their e$its and their entrances. "nd one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being se!en ages... (metaphor (/hakespeare Ge can see that because metaphors are not e$plicitly signalled, they are more difficult to identify. 'etony$y: 1ike metaphor, metonymy is also a figurati!e use of language. "s metaphor means the transport of ideas in Greek, metonymy means a change of name. ?or e$ample, in the following lines by I. /hirley, metonymy is used four times5 R$. & There is no amour against fateH 3eath lays his icy hand on kingsH /ceptre and +rown Bust tumble down "nd in the dust be e-ual made Gith the poor crooked /cythe and /pade. Here &ceptre and +rown represent kings and -ueens, while &cythe and &pade represent ordinary peasants and workers. Synecdoche: " further kind of figurati!e language is synecdoche, which is usually classed as a type of metonymy. /ynecdoche refers to using the name of part of an object to talk about the whole thing, and !ice !ersa. ?or e$ample, hands in They were short of hands at har!est time means workers, labourers or helpers. The figurati!e use of language has the effect of making the concepts under discussion tamer, more domestic, more acceptable. 2eaders can be presented with a picture of the world form which much of the uncertainty, the fuzziness and the ambiguity has been wiped out. "nd some linguists argue that much of our perception of the world and oursel!es is shaped by figurati!e uses of language. The Analysis o Literary Language Ge can approach literary te(ts in !arious ways. 3epending on the kind of te$t we are dealing with and the aim of analysis, some of the following procedures may be of help in analyzing the grammatical structure and meaning of the te$t. • Ghere there seems to be foregrounding on the le!el of le$is, you can use morphological analysis to look at new combinations of words. • Ghere there is foregrounding on the le!el of word order and synta$, you can use your knowledge of word classes (i.e. nouns, !erbs, adjecti!es, etc. to analyze unusual or 6marked0 combinations. • 7n the grammatical le!el, you can analyze the structure of sentences or look for combinations and patterns in the use of different types of word groups, nominal and !erbal groups which may contribute to a more literary usage of language. • In all cases, you should find that being aware of the systems of the language, make it possible for you to identify the more 6de!iant0, 6marked0 or literary structures, from more 6e!eryday0 , non=literary usage of language, and thus be able to say more about the structural patterning in a te$t. • If you are not sure where to start on a te$t, you might try rewriting it. *y comparing the differences between the original te$t and your rewitten !ersion, you should be able to comment on the degree of formality or informality of the original (i.e. its register, and its effect on the reader. 2ewriting a te$t is also a !ery good way to identify other significant features in the original. • Ghat structural aspects of the meaning are being e$ploited, if anyJ ?or e$ample, are o!erlaps in word meaning, or le$ical gaps, being e$ploredJ Is the te$t using opposites or o$ymorons, or hyponyms and superordinates in a playful or unusual wayJ • How significant is the conte$t of the te$t to your understanding of itJ Bight readers with different background knowledge from yours form a different interpretationJ • 3oes the literal meaning of a particular word or phrase apply hereJ If not, you are dealing with figurati!e language. +heck for similes, metaphors, metonymy and synecdoche. Ghat is the function of the figurati!e use of languageJ It might be to make the abstract seem concreteH to make the mysterious or frightening seem safe, ordinary and domestic, or to make the day=to=day seem wonderful and unusual. L'n)'e in P#et&( Sound Patterning Bost people are familiar with the idea of rhyme in poetry, indeed for some, this is what defines poetry. 'nd rhyme (i. e. rhyme at the end of lines, cA+ is !ery common in some poetic styles, and particularly in children0s poetry5 R$. @ 1ittle *o=peep Has lost her sheep "nd doesn0t know where to find them 1ea!e them alone "nd they will come home Gaggling their tails behind them The following lines from /hakespeare also rhyme5 R$. 84 ?air is foul and foul is fair Ho!er through wind and murky air /ongs often rhyme as well5 R$. 88 Harke The herald angels sing Glory to the newborn Finge These are all e$amples of end rhyme, where the last word of a line has the same final sounds as the last word of another line, sometimes immediately abo!e or below, sometimes one or more lines away. Howe!er, not all poetry has to ha!e end rhymeH these lines by Barge #iercy for e$ample do not5 R$. 8) 1ong burned hair brushes "cross my face its spider /ilk. I smell la!ender, +innamon5 my mother0s clothes. *y repeating sounds in words like this, poets can build up !ery intricate patterns. Those who are interested in the rhyme schemes of Rnglish may read further from the bibliography at the end of the book, e.g. Thornborrow and Gareing (8@@&L)444 or elsewhere. &ierent !or$s o Sound Patterning The following poetical lines from +hristopher Barlowe0s ,The #assionate /hepherd to His 1o!e. can ser!e to identify se!eral different kinds of sound patterning. R$. 8% +ome li!e with me and be my lo!e "nd we will all the pleasures pro!e Rhy$e: me=be lo!e=pro!e Lmi5L=Lbi5L L8z!L=pru!L Ge ha!e discussed rhyme in some detail. The me<be rhyme is internal rhyme, rather than end rhyme. The words love and prove would probably ha!e been pronounced with the same !owel sound by Barlowe, and would ha!e been a rhyme then, although to us they sound like a half=rhyme today, or consonance. Alliteration5 me=my pleasures=pro!e Lmi5L=LmaIL Luple{xzL =Lpru!L The initial consonants are identical in alliteration (+!c. "s you can see, pleasures and prove, though both start with LpL, ha!e different consonant clusters5 LplL and LprL. Therefore they are not completely alliterati!e. Assonance5 li!e=with=will come=lo!e LlI!L=LwI|L=LwIlL LkzmL=Llz!L Assonance describes syllables with a common !owel (cAc. Consonance5 will=all LwilL=LIJlL /yllables ending with the same consonants (c!+ are described as ha!ing consonance. Re+erse rhy$e5 with=will Lwi|L=LwilL Reverse rhyme descirbes syllables sharing the !owel and initial consonant, +Ac, rather than the !owel and the final consonant as is the case in rhyme. Pararhy$e: li!e=lo!e Lli!L=Llz!L Ghere two syllables ha!e the same initial and final consonants, but different !owels (+!+, they are in pararhyme. Repetition5 "lthough there are no e$amples in the lines from ,The #assionate /hepherd., it is of course possible to ha!e a complete match of +A+, for e$ample ,the sea, the sea.. This is called repetition. Stress and 'etrical Patterning In Rnglish words of two syllables, one is usually uttered slightly louder, higher, held for slightly longer, or otherwise uttered slightly more forcefully than the other syllable in the same word, when the word is said in normal circumstances. This syllable is called the stressed syllable. ?or e$ample, in the word kitten, kit is the stressed syllable, while ten is the unstressed syllable. In addition to stress within an indi!idual word, when we put words together in utterances we stress some more strongly than others. Ghere someone puts the stress depends partly on what they think is the most important information in their utterance, and partly on the inherent stress in the words. #oetry can e$ploit the way we use stress when we speak to create rhythms. Ghen stress is organized to form regular rhythms, the term used for it is metre. Traditionally, to work out the metre of a poem, first of all you need to work out the number of syllables in each line, as in this e$ample from the play Romeo and ;uliet by /hakespeare5 R$. 8' ?or saints ha!e hands that pilgrims0 hands do touch There are ten syllables in this line and the bold ones are the stressed syllables. (The stressed syllables may be different according to different understandings of the line. " ten=syllable line like this, which has stress on alternate syllables and starts with an unstressed syllable, is a !ery specific and popular form in Rnglish poetry known as iambic pentametre. Iambic refers to the pattern of unstressed and stressed syllables5 an unstressed syllable followed by a stressed one is an iamb. "n iamb is an e$ample of a unit of metre. Qnits of metre are called feet, and these are combinations of stressed and unstressed syllables which can be repeated in a poem. The term pentametre refers to the number of feet in the line. The line from Romeo and ;uliet is in pentametre because it contains fi!e feet5 pent comes from the Greek word for fi!e. The names of the different types of feet most fre-uently found in Rnglish poetry are as follows5 Ia$b5 "n iambic foot contains two syllables, an unstressed syllable followed by a stressed one (The stressed syllables are written in bold letters5 R$. 8K and palm to palm is holy palmer0s kiss Trochee5 " trochaic foot contains two syllables as well, but in this case, the stressed syllable comes first, followed by an unstressed syllable5 R$. 8: Gillows whiten aspens -ui!er Anapest: "n anapestic foot consists of three syllablesH two unstressed syllables are followed by a stressed one5 R$. 8; Githout cause be he pleased, without cause be he cross &actyl: " dactylic foot is similar to an anapest, e$cept re!ersedka stressed syllable is followed by two unstressed ones5 R$. 8& 7ne for the master, and one for the dame Spondee5 " spondaic foot consists of two stressed syllablesH line of poetry rarely consists only of spondees5 R$. 8@ and a black=L*ack gull bent like an iron bar slowly. Pyrrhic5 " pyrrhic foot consists of two unstressed syllables, as like an in e$. 8&. Ge said abo!e that a line that contains fi!e iambs is in iambic pentametre. /imilarly, lines that contain two feet (of any kind are described as dimetre, those with three feet as trimtre, and those containing four feet are described as being in tetrametre. 1ines with si$ feet are he(ametre, with se!en are heptametre, and with eight are octametre (the first part of each term relates the Greek word for the appropriate number. Concentional !or$s o 'etre and Sound "t different times, different patterns of metre and sound ha!e de!eloped and become accepted as ways of structuring poems. These con!entional structures often ha!e names, and if you are analyzing poems, it is ad!isable to be familiar with the more fre-uent con!entions that poets use. /ome con!entional forms of metre and sound are as follows. Couplets: +ouplets are two lines of !erse, usually connected by a rhyme. Here is an e$tract from ,The Bad Bother. by Gordsworth5 R$. )4 Her eyes are wild, her head is bare, The sun has burnt her coal=black hair, Her eye=brows ha!e a rusty stain, "nd she came from far o!er the main. <uatrains: /tanzas of four lines, known as uatrins, are !ery common in Rnglish poetry. 7li!er Goldsmith0s ,Ghen 1o!ely Goman /toops to ?olly. written in 8;::, is in -uatrains. R$. )8 Ghen lo!ely woman stoops to folly, "nd finds too late that men betray, Ghat charm can soothe her melancholy, Ghat art can wash her guilt awayJ The only art her guilt to co!er, To hide her shame from e!ery eye, To gi!e repentance to her lo!er, "nd wring his bosomkis to die. *lan8 +erse: )lank verse consists of lines in iambic pentametre which do not rhyme. These are !ery common in Rnglish literature. R$. )) is from 2obert *rowning0s poem ,"ndrea del /arto. (8&KK5 R$. )) *ut do not let us -uarrel any more, <o my 1ucreziaH bear with me for onceH /it down and all shall happen as you wish. ]ou turn yours face, but does it bring your heartJ Bany other !erse forms appear -uite regularly in Rnglish poetry, e.g. sonnet, free verse, limericks, and so on. " !ery good summary is gi!en by Ion /tallworthy in an essay on !ersification in The @orton Anthology of poetry. The Poetic !unctions o Sound and 'etre Ghy do poets use sound and metrical patterningJ /ome of the reasons gi!en by Thornborrow and Gareing (8@@& can gi!e us an idea of the range of effects sound and metre can ha!e. 2easons for poets using sound and metrical patterning include5 8. ?or aesthetic pleasureksound and metrical patterning are fundamentally pleasing, in the way that music isH most people enjoy rhythms and repeated sounds. +hildren in particular seem to like !erse for this reason. ). To conform to a con!entionLstyleLpoetical formkas with clothes and buildings, poetry has fashions, and different forms of sound patterning ha!e been popular at different times. The time at which they were writing has a great influence on why poets selected the forms they did. %. To e$press or inno!ate with a formkpoets inno!ate to create new poetic forms, and also to challenge assumptions about the forms of language which are considered appropriate to poetry. '. To demonstrate technical skill, and for intellectual pleasurekthere is a kind of satisfaction to be deri!ed from the cle!erness of some poems and magic of form and meaning being perfectly combined. #oets show their skill with words in the same way as athletes demonstrate their ability to run or leap hurdles. ./ ?or emphasis or contrastksome metrical pattern, such as the ,slow spondees., or sudden changes in a pre!iously regular pattern, draw your attention to that place in the poem. :. 7nomatopoeiakwhen the rhythm of a line or its sound imitates the sound of what is being described, this is known as onomatopoeia. 4o# to Analy7e Poetry/ The following points pro!ided by Thornborrow and Gareing (8@@& may help to co!er the areas of discussion when analyzing poetry. 45 In+#&m'ti#n '0#)t the $#em If this information is a!ailable to you, somewhere in your analysis gi!e the title of the poem, the name of the poet, the period in which the poem was written, the genre to which the poem belongs, e.g. lyric, dramatic, epic sonnet or satire, etc. ]ou might also mention the topic, e.g. whether it is a lo!e poem, a war poem or a nature poem. 65 The !'( the $#em is st&)ct)&ed These are structural features that you should check forH these may well be others we ha!e omitted. 3on0t worry if you don0t find any e$amples of re!erse rhyme, or a regular metrical pattern in your poem. Ghat matters is that you looked, so if they had been there, you wouldn0t ha!e missed them. ]ou don0t need to write about all the headings below. Gorking through them is the process of getting to know the poem. "fter that you can select which are the interesting features you want to discuss. • 1ayoutkare the lines grouped into stanzas of e-ualLune-ual lengthsnJ (see e.g. )%, )' • <umber of lines. • 1ength of lineskcount the syllablesH are lines of regular syllabic lengthJ • 2egular metrekwhich syllables carry stressJ "re there an e-ual number of unstressed syllables between the stressed onesJ How many feet (stressed syllables are there in a lineJ +omment on the type of foot and the number of feet per linekor say that there is no regular metrical pattern. Howe!er, finding no regular metre is not to say that there is no e$ploitation of metre. " poem can be written in free !erse and can occasionally use particular metrical patterns for emphasis or onomatopoeic effect. • Rnd rhymeskplot the end rhyme, if there is any. ]ou could check with a reference source such as the essay by Ion /talwartly at the end of the <orton "nthlolgy, to see if the metre and end rhyme conform to a particular style of poem (e.g. a ballad or a sonnet. • 7ther forms of sound patterningkassonance, consonance, alliteration, pararhyme, re!erse rhyme, half rhyme and repetition. ]ou may comment on the effect of these forms, using the list of reasons suggested abo!e for reference. ]ou should also check for literal and figurati!e uses of language, interesting uses of synta$, punctuation and register, and for interte$tual allusion. nThe layout of a poem is particular significant in the intepretation of !isual poetry. The following two e$amples may pro!ide some impressions of this feature. R$. )% seeker of truth follow no path all paths lead where truth is here (e. e. cummings, <o. % of ;% #oems R$. )' 1ord, who createdst man in wealth and store, Though foolishly he lost the same, 3ecaying more and more, Till he became Bost pooreH Gith thee 7 let me rise "s larks, harmoniously, "nd sing this day thy !ictories5 Then shall the fall futher the flight in me (George Herbert, Raster Gings L'n)'e in Ficti#n !ictional Prose and Point O ,ie# "ccording to Bick /hort (8@@:, we need at least three le!els of discourse to account for the language of fictional prose (i.e. a no!el or short story, because there is a narrator= narratee le!el inter!ening between the character=character le!el and the author=reader le!el5 "ddresser 8 kkk Bessage kkk "ddressee 8 (<o!elist } (2eader "ddresser ) kkkBessage kkk "ddressee ) (<arrator } (<arratee "ddresser % kkkBessage kkk"ddressee % (+haracter " } (+haracter * This diagram only accounts for the no!el ,in general. in the sense that all three le!els, and all three participants are needed to e$plain how the no!el works as a form. *ut any particular no!el may neutralize some of the distinctions, multiply others, or do both at the same time. The fact that there are si$ participants in the basic discourse structure for the no!el automatically means that there are more !iewpoints to be taken into account in the no!el than in other genres (e.g. poetry. *ut the opportunities in particular no!els for multiplying the number of !iewpoints to be considered and related to one another, are myriad. It is thus hardly surprising that the no!el has become the genre where writers ha!e e$plored !iewpoints e$tensi!ely. I2narrators5 The person who tells the story may also be a character in the fictional world of the story, relating the story after the e!ent. In this case the critics call the narrator a first=person narrator or i<narrator because when the narrator refers to himself or herself in the story the first person pronoun 8 is used. ?irst=person narrators are often said to be 6limited0 because they don0t know all the facts or 6unreliable0 because they trick the reader by withholding information or telling untruths. This often happens in murder and mystery stories. Third2person narrators5 If the narrator is not a character in the fictional world, he or she is usually called a third<person narrator, because reference to all the characters in the fictional world of the story will in!ol!e the use of the third=person pronouns5 he, she, it or they. This second main type of narrator is arguably the dominant narrator type. Sche$a2oriented language: Aiewpoint is also schema=oriented. It is worth noting that different participants in the same situation will ha!e different schemas, related to their different !iewpoints. Hence shopkeepers and their customers will ha!e shop schemas which in many respects will be mirror images of one another, and the success of shopkeepers will depend in part on their being able to take into account the schemas and points of !iew of their customers. *esides indicating !iewpoint by choosing what to describe, no!elists can also indicate it by how it is described, particularly through e$pressions which are e!aluati!e in nature5 R$. )K /he opened the door of her grimy, branch=line carriage, and began to get down her bags. The porter was nowhere, of course, but there was Harry...There, on the sordid little station under the furnaces... In this passage from 3. H. 1awrence0s /anny and Annie, the !alue=laden adjecti!es grimy and sordid in grimy, branch=line carriage and sordid little station under the furnaces help mark the description of Borley railway station as being from the !iewpoint of ?anny, who clearly disappro!es. 0i+en +s "e# inor$ation: "t the beginning of a story, we should thus be able to predict that narrati!e reference to e!erything in the fiction e$cept items generally assumed by e!eryone in our culture (e.g. the sun must be new, and hence should display indefinite reference. This is what happens, for e$ample, at the beginning of Thomas Hardy0s The .ayor of +asterbidge. R$. ): 7ne e!ening of late summer, before the nineteenth century had reached one third of its span, a young man and woman, the latter carrying a child, were approaching the large !illage of Geydon=#riors, in Qpper Gesse$, on foot. The first mention of the man (and by implication the woman and the child ha!e indefinite reference (a young man and woman, a child because we ha!e not met them before. "s a conse-uence, we tend to get a distanced ,bird0s=eye !iew. of the characters. The nineteenth century has definite reference because Hardy can assume that his readers will already know what the phrase refers to. *ut note that e!en in this straightforward description, the !illage of Geydon=#iors gets definite reference for its first mention, encouraging us to pretend to oursel!es that we are already familiar with it. Hardy is thus 6positioning0 his readers as people who are familiar to some e$tent with the !illage (and hence the area but not the characters. &ei%is5 *ecause dei(is is speaker=related it can easily be used to indicate particular and changing, !iewpoint. In the following e$ample from The &ecret Agent, we see Brs. Aerloc0s actions from Br. Aerloc0s !iewpoint5 R$. ); Br Aerloc heard the creaky plank in the floor and was content. He waited. Brs. Aerloc was coming. In addition to the perception and cognition !erbs heard and waited and the indication of his inner mental state (was content we can see that Brs. Aerloc0s mo!ement towards her husband is !iewed from Br. Aerloc0s position (coming. The fact that the e!ents are only seen from Br. Aerloc0s !iewpoint is strategically important at this point in the no!el. He does not realize that his wife is about to kill him. Speech and Thouht Presentation (8 /peech presentation "ccording to /hort (8@@:, the speech presentation continuum may ha!e the following possibilities5 8. 3irect /peech (3/ ). Indirect /peech (I/ %. <arrator0s 2epresentation of /peech "cts (<2/" '. <arrator0s 2epresentation of /peech (<2/ Boreo!er, with the direct speech (3/ we ha!e what the character said in its fullest form, and as Ge mo!e from 8 to ' the speech contribution of the character becomes more and more muted. There is, one further category which can occur, which is an amalgam of 3/ and indirect speech (I/ features and is called free indirect speech (?I/. It comes between 3/ and I/ on the speech presentation cline5 <2/ <2/" I/ ?I/ 3/ The following e$ample from +harles 3ickens0s The ?ld +uriosity &hop can be used to illustrate most types of speech representations. R$. )& (8 He thanked her many times, and said that the old dame who usually did such offices for him had gone to nurse the little scholar whom he had told her of. () The child asked how he was, and hoped he was better. (% 6<o0, rejoined the schoolmaster, shaking his head sorrowfully, ,<o better. (' They e!en say he is worse.. The schoolmaster0s words in -uotation marks ser!e as an e$ample of 3/. Typical I/ can be seen in sentence ()5 The child asked how he was ... It gi!es us the propositional content of what the child said, but not the words she used to utter the content. *ut in "e thanked her many times ... at the beginning of (8 we do not e!en know what statements the schoolmaster made, let alone what words he uttered to make those statements. "ll we know is that he repeatedly used the speech act of thanking. "s a conse-uence, this part of the passage can be seen as a summary of a longer piece of discourse, and is therefore e!en more backgrounded than an I/ representation would be. Bick /hort called this minimalist kind of presentation the <2/". "nother possibility of speech presentation which is more minimalist than <2/", namely a sentence which merely tells us that speech occurred, and which does not e!en specify the speech act(s in!ol!ed, e.g. Ge talked for hours. This is called <2/. The ?I/ usually occurs in a form which appears at first sight to be I/ but also has 3/ feature. The clearest e$ample of ?I/ in this passage is the second half of sentence ()5 ... and hoped he was better. (The first half of the sentence The child asked how he was ... is clearly I/, gi!ing the propositional content of the utterance but not the words used. "lthough it is certainly not 3/, it does ha!e some of the fla!our of the words which the child used. The reason for this is that although it is coordinated to the I/ of the first part of the sentence (which leads us to e$pect it will ha!e the smile status, it omits the reporting clause, which can be easily deduced from the conte$t. " more e$plicit !ersion of it would be ... and said that she hoped he was better. Thought presentation5 The categories used by no!elists to represent the thoughts of their characters are e$actly the same as those used to represent a speech. R$. )@ a He spent the day thinking. ( <arrator0s 2epresentation of Thought5 <2T b /he considered his unpunctuality. (<arrator0s 2epresentation of Thought "cts5 <2T" c /he thought that he would be late. (Indirect Thought5 IT d He was bound to be latee (?ree Indirect Thought5 ?IT e ,He will be late., she thought. (3irect Thought5 3T "s the effects associated with <2T, <2T" or IT are roughly the same as those associated with speech presentation, we only talk about two types of thought reprsentation here, i.e. 3T and ?IT. &irect thought5 3T tends to be used for presenting conscious, deliberati!e thought. In the following e$ample from 3ickens0 The old +uriosity &hop, 3ick /wi!eller, who has been dangerously ill for some weeks, has just regained consciousness5 R$. %4 ,I0m dreaming., thought 2ichard, ,that0s clear. Ghen I went to bed, my hands were not made of egg shellsH and now I can almost see through0 em. If this is not a dream, I ha!e woke up by mistake in an "rabian <ight, instead of a 1ondon one. *ut I ha!e no doubt I0m asleep. <ot the least.. Here the small ser!ant had another rough. ,Aery remarkablee. thought Br. /wi!eller. ,I ne!er dreamt such a real cough as that before. I don0t know, indeed, that I e!er dreamt either a cough or a sneeze. #erhaps it0s part of the philosophy of dreams that one ne!er does. There0s anotherkand anotherkI say, kI0 m dreaming rather faste. The humour of the account comes from the fact that Br. /wi!eller thinks that he is dreaming but we know that he is thinking rather deliberately as he comes out of his coma. His rather fast dreaming is merely e!eryday readily impinging on his consciousness, as the inter!ening sentence of narration makes clear. 3T has the same linguistic form as the solilo-uy in drama, which is notoriously ambiguous as to whether the character in!ol!ed is thinking aloud or talking to the audience. In the no!el there is no audience to talk to, and so thought presentation must be 3T0s, sole purpose. Howe!er, 3T is -uite often used to represent imaginary con!ersations which characters ha!e with themsel!es or others, which is presumably why it so often has the fla!our of conscious thinking. ?ree indirect thought In the following brief e$ample of ?IT from Iulian *arnes0 A "istory of the !orld in HL(8L ) +hapters, +olonel ?ergusson is lying on his deathbed, annoyed with his daughter, who is reading a religious pamphlet while waiting for him to die. The +olonel, an atheist, is annoyed because he cannot comprehend his daughter0s belief in God5 R$. %8 It was a pro!ocation, that0s what it was, thought the +olonel. Here he was on his deathbed, preparing for obli!ion, and she sits o!er there reading #arson <oah0s latest pamphlet. The reported clauses in the first sentence and the first half of the second sentence are in ?IT. They contain a mi$ture of 3irect and Indirect features, as we can show by 6translating0 them first into IT and than into 3T5 8. The +olonel thought that it was a pro!ocation that while he was on his deathbed, preparing for obli!ion, she was reading #arson <oah0s latest pamphlet. (IT ). ,It is a pro!ocation, that0s what it is., thought the +olonel. ,I0m on my deathbed, preparing for obli!ion and she sits o!er there reading #arson <oah0s latest pamphlet.. (3T In this e$ample we can see the typical effect of ?IT. Ge feel close to the character, almost inside his head as he thinks, and sympathise with his !iewpoint, this ,close. effect is more or less the opposite of effect of ?I/, which makes us feel distanced from the character is often a !ehicle for irony. How is it that ?I/ and ?IT ha!e such markedly different effectsJ 7ne reason is that although 3/ can reasonably be assumed to be the norm for speech presentation, it is much more difficult to hold the same !iew for 3T. The thoughts of others, unlike their speech, are ne!er directly accessible to us. Ge can only infer what people might be thinking from their speech, actions, facial e$pression and so on. It is thus much more plausible to think of IT as our norm for thought presentation. In this ease, the use of ?IT constitutes a mo!e away from the norm towards the character end of the scale, whereas ?I/ constitutes a mo!e in the opposite direction. Strea$ o consciousness #riting5 The term stream of consciousness was originally coined by the philosopher Gilliam Iames in his 0rinciple of 0sychology (8&@4 to describe the free association of ideas and impressions in the mind. It was later applied to the writing of Gilliam ?aulkner, Iames Ioyce, Airginia Goolf and others e$perimenting early in the )4th century with the no!elistic portrayal of the free flow of thought. <ote, howe!er, that the majority of thought presentation in no!els is not stream of consciousness writing. The e$amples we ha!e discussed abo!e are not stream of consciousness writing because they are too orderly to constitute the free association of ideas. #erhaps the most famous piece of stream of consciousness writing is that associated with 1eopold *loom in Ioyce0s Qlysses. Here he is in restaurant thinking about oysters5 R$. %) ?ilthy shells. 3e!il to open them too. Gho found them outJ Garbage, sewage they feed on. ?izz and 2ed bank oysters. Rffect on the se$ual. "phrodis. (sic He was in the 2ed bank this morning. Gas he oyster old fish at table. #erhaps he young flesh in bed. <o. Iune has no ar (sic no oysters. *ut there are people like tainted game. Iugged hare. ?irst catch your hare. +hinese eating eggs fifty years old, blue and grain again. 3inner of thirty courses. Rach dish harmless might mi$ inside. Idea for a poison mystery. This cogniti!e meandering is all in the most free !ersion of 3T. It is also characterized by a highly elliptical sentence structure, with as many grammatical words as possible being remo!ed consistently allowing the reader to be able to infer what is going on. The language is not !ery cohesi!e, and breaks the Gricean ma$ims of Xuantity and Banner. *ut we must assume that apparently unreasonahle writing beha!iour is related to a rele!ant authorial purpose. It is the assumption that Ioyce is really cooperating with us at a deeper le!el, e!en tbough he is apparently making our reading difficult, that leads us to conclude that he is trying to e!oke a mind working associati!ely. Prose Style Authorial style: Ghen people talk of style, they usually mean authorial style. This refers to the ,world !iew. kind of authorial style. In other words a way of writing which recognizably belongs to a particular writer, say Iane "usten or Rrnest Hemingway. This way of writing distinguishes one author0s writing from that of others, and is felt to be recognizable across a range of te$ts written by the same writer, e!en though those writings are bound to !ary as a conse-uence of being about different topics, describing different things, ha!ing different purposes and so on. It is this ability to percei!e authorial style in the writings of a particular author that enables us to write pastiches and parodies. Te%t style: Te(t style looks closely at how linguistic choices help to construct te$tual meaning, just as authors can be said to ha!e style, so can te$t. +ritics can talk of the style of Biddlemarch, or e!en parts of it, as well as the style of George Rliot. Ghen the style of te$ts or e$tract from te$ts is e$amined, we are e!en more centrally concerned with meaning than with the world !iew !ersion of authorial style discussed abo!e, and so when we e$amine te$t style we will need to e$amine linguistic choices which are intrinsically connected with meaning and effect on the reader. "ll of the areas we ha!e looked at so far in this book could be rele!ant to the meaning of a particular te$t and its styleH as can areas like le$ical and grammatical patterning. R!en the positioning of something as apparently insignificant as a comma, for e$ample, can sometimes be !ery important in interpretati!e terms. 4o# to Analy7e the Language o !iction/ The language features we should e$amine to elucidate the style of a te$t or a corpus of an author0s writing may include the following aspects5 • patterns of le$is (!ocabularyH • patterns of grammatical orgnizationH • patterns of te$tual organization (how the units of te$tual organization, from sentences to paragraphs and beyond, are arrangedH • foregrounded features, including figures of speechH • whether any patterns of style !ariation can be discernedH • discoursal patterning of !arious kinds, like turn=taking or patterns of inferencingH • patterns of !iewpoint manipulation, including speech and thought presentation. L'n)'e in D&'m' " play e$ists in two wayskon the page and on the stage. This presents something of a dilemma for the literary critic, since the two manifestations are -uite different and need different analytical approaches. Ghen stylistics has focused on drama, it has almost in!ariably been concerned with the te$t on the page, rather than the performance on the stage. The te$t, after all, is static and unchanging. The stylistician may easily turn back the pages to a pre!ious scene, and make comparison between speeches in different parts of the play, or e!en reach for another book, and make comparisons between different plays. The li!e performance of a play, on the other hand, is transient. " speech only partially heard through inattention cannot be heard again on that occasion. Howe!er, this is not to say that performance can ne!er be analyzedH particularly now we ha!e access to recorded performance. 7ur interest in this book, ne!ertheless, is in the language of the play on the page. 4o# Should .e Analy7e &ra$a/ &ra$a as poetry: /tylistic analysis of dramatic te$ts has tended to follow one of the three approaches. The first of these is to treat an e$tract of the te$t as a poem. /ince sound and metre are as rele!ant in many dramatic te$ts as they are in poetry, e!erything to do with metre, sound patterning, synta$ and figurati!e language already discussed in the pre!ious sections might be appropriate areas to analyze. &ra$a as iction: /econdly, the play can be analyzed for character and plot, treating it more or less like fiction. The two components of plot and character clearly are as significant in dramatic te$ts as in fiction, so this is an ob!iously rele!ant way to proceedH some of the approaches described in the pre!ious section can be used to do this. 3rama howe!er differs fundamentally from fiction in that it usually lacks a narrati!e !oice, and this absence can make a no!el difficult to dramatize successfully. 7ne of the recognized problems in dramatizing Iane "usten0s 0ride and 0re4udice, as was done by **+ in 8@@K, is that the ironic narrati!e !oice offers a different perspecti!e on characters and e!ents from the one the characters in the no!el necessarily percei!e or comment on. Thus the information and the attitude con!eyed in the narrati!e !oice must be translated into other aspects of the dramatization. There are ways, in drama, of attempting to deal with the function of the narrati!e !oice. " chorus, as was used in Greek Tragedy, has also been used in plays by T./. Rliot ( The +ocktail 0arty, for e$ample, and can gi!e another perspecti!e on the actions of the characters or plot de!elopment. 3ylan Thomas used a narrati!e !oice reading o!er the play in Mnder .ilkwood, and 3ennis #otter, in the tele!ision play The &inging Detective, uses a !oice=o!er techni-ue. Information about the plot and character is sometimes gi!en through e$plicit interjection by the playwright in the te$t of the play, as stage instructions. &ra$a as con+ersation5 Ge ha!e said that stylistics has approached the te$ts of plays as if they were poetry, and as if they were a kind of fiction. This does not really account for aspects of drama that different from poetry and different from fiction, the -ualities that make it a genre in its own right. 7ne crucial aspect in which drama differs from poetry and fiction is in its emphasis on !erbal interaction, and the way relationships between people are constructed and negotiated through what they say. This is where linguistics really comes into own, since there is an enormous amount of work on what people do when they talk, and on how communication and miscommunication occur. 1inguistics and techni-ues of discourse analysis in particular, can help us analyze the e$changes between characters, in order to5 a understand the te$t betterH b understand how con!ersation worksH c appreciate better the skill a playwright has demonstrated in the way they ha!e written the speeches of their charactersH d see things in the te$t that other forms of analysis might ha!e allowed us to miss. There are many different aspects of language in (especially the differences between speech and writing which playwrights can draw upon as a remurce. In this book we can only choose a limited number of them for discussion. Analy7ing &ra$atic Language In this section we look at the speech in dramatic te$ts and show how analytic techni-ues which linguists ha!e applied to naturally occurring con!ersations can be applied to dialogues in plays to e$plore the interaction between characters. 8. Turn =uantity and length: How much a character talks can be indicati!e either of their relati!e importance in the play, or of how important they appear to think they are. Generally, central characters ha!e longer and more speeches than minor characters. Howe!er, *ennison (8@@%5 &)=' argues that as "nderson in Tom /topperd0s play 0rofessional /oul, de!elops as a main character, he has fewer long speecheskindicati!e of his increased ability to listen to others. ). E%change se=uence: "ttempts ha!e been made to catalogue many of the patterns of e$changes which are considered appropriate by speakers of Rnglish, (e.g. the two= part e$changes such as greeting=greeting, -uestion=answer, re-uest=response and in!itation=acceptanceL refusal, but as there is so much scope for !ariation in conte$t this is really a fruitless task. Howe!er, the model of e$change structure can be useful when analyzing a dramatic dialogue which doesn0t seem to conform to the e$pected pattern of e$change. Harold #inter0s plays for e$ample, are famous for the !ery strange dialogues between charters, where these e$pected patterns do not occur. The e$tract below from A @ight ?ut. The characters, "lbert and a Girl, are in the Girl0s flat, where she has brought him back with her after picking him up on the street. R$. %% (His hand screws the cigarette. He lets it fall on the carpet. GI21 (outraged5 Ghat do you think you0re doingJ (/he stares at him. #ick it upe #ick that up, I tell youe It0s my carpete (/he lunged towards it. It0s not my carpet, they0ll make me payk (His hand closes upon hers as she reaches for it. GI215 Ghat are you doingJ 1et go. Treating my place like a pigsty... 1et me go. ]ou0re burning my carpete "1*R2T (-uietly, intensely5 /it down. GI215 How dare youJ "1*R2T5 /hut up. /it down. GI215 Ghat are you doingJ "1*R2T5 3on0t scream. I0m wanting you .... GI215 Ghat are you going to doJ "1*R2T5 (seizing the clock from the mantelpiece5 37<0 T BQ+F BR "*7QTe This dialogue does not 6fit0 our model of e$change structure in se!eral respects. ?irst, "lbert does not respond to the girl0s e$clamations about the dropped cigarette, and her commands to pick it up. /econd, she asks him a series of -uestions (How dare youJ, Ghat are you doingJ, and Ghat are you going to doJ, none of which he gi!es a direct answer to. Ignoring her -uestions and commands is one way he demonstrates the une-ual distribution of power between them, which culminates in his threat of physical !iolence. %. Production errors5 /ometimes a writer will deliberately use forms such as hesitation to con!ey something about the character=that they are distracted, for e$ample, or uncertain or shy, or confused, embarrassed. In this e$ample from 0rofessional /oul, the character "nderson meets one of his footballing heroes and offers ad!ice on the opposition in a forthcoming match, a situation in which he demonstrates signs of embarrassment shown in bold5 R$. %' "<3R2/7<5 I0!e seen him twice. In the Q?" +up a few seasons ago... I happened to be in *erlin for the Heel +ollo-uium, er, bunfight ... (in a rush I realize it0s none of my businesskI $ean you may think I0m an absolute ass, but2(pause) 1ook, if Hahas takes that corner he0s going to make it shortkal$ost certainly=... '. The cooperati+e principle5 The philosopher Grice (8@;K de!eloped the theory of a cooperati!e principle, which he asserted people used to make sense of their con!ersations by enabling them to distinguish between sentence<meaning and utterance meaning, i. e. between what a sentence 6means0 (out of conte$t and what the speaker 6means0 when they say that sentence (in a particular conte$t. The latter meaning can be inferred by the hearer, as participants in con!ersations e$pect each other to do certain things, in other words, their talk is go!erned by the cooperati!e principle, which is made up of four con!ersational ma$ims, i.e. the ma$ims of uantity, uality, manner and relevance. Grice suggested that people actually break these ma$ims -uite often when they talkkfor e$ample, in another e$tract from #inter0s A @ight ?ut, "lbert apparently flouts the ma$im of rele!ance when he responds to the Girl0s -uestions5 R$. %K GI215 "nd what film are you making at the momentJ "1*R2T5 I0m on holiday. GI215 Ghere do you workJ "1*R2T5 I0m freelance. "lbert0s replies do not directly answer the Girl0s -uestionskhe does not tell her what film he is working on nor where he works. Howe!er, most people would probably make sense of this e$change by assuming that the answers were rele!ant to the -uestions at an underlying le!el. This would result in the response 8’m on holiday being understood to mean #8’m not making a film at the moment because 8’m on holidayE, and the response to the second -uestion meaning #8 don’t have one single place 8 can identify, because being freelance, 8 work all over the placeE. K. Status $ar8ed through language5 Bany of the properties of language discussed abo!e can be used to signal the relati!e status, and changes in status, of characters. In particular, language can be used to signal to what e$tent the relationship between a speaker and an addressee is based on a social power difference, and to what e$tent it is based on solidarity. How people address one another usually signals where they percei!e themsel!es to be socially in relation to their addressee5 their e-ual, or their social inferior or superior. " considerable amount of our language use is grounded in thee perceptions. #laywrights can indicate to an audience this kind of information about the relationship between characters through ways they address one another on stage. ?or e$ample, the so= called tuBvous distinction which e$isted in Rlizabethan Rnglish, and which still e$ists in many languages, but which has been lost in modern Rnglish, is often used by /hakespeare to indicate relationships between characters. The form thou in Rarly Bodem Rnglish, the second person singular pronoun (i.e. for addressing one person e-ui!alent to the ?rench form tu, was used to signal either intimacy or that the speaker was of higher social status than the addressee. The form you in Rarly Bodern Rnglish was e-ui!alent to the Bodem ?rench form vousH it was used for the second person plural (i.e. for addressing two or more people, but was used for the second person singular as a polite form used to mark social distance or coldness andLor respect. The thou term was already beginning to die out when /hakespeare was writing, but ne!ertheless, there are scenes in his plays where the characters switch between the use of you and thou, indicating the fluctuation in their relationships, from intimacy to distance, from respect to contempt. ?or e$ample, in the e$tract below from /hakespeare0s play As Nou Like 8t, analyzed by +al!o (8@@', the cousins +elia and 2osahnd differ in their use of pronouns to one another. +elia, who has been irritated by remarks 2osalind, madly in lo!e with 7rlando, has made about women, and by her general self absorption, uses tile distant and polite form you. 2osalind, completely wrapped up in her own emotions, apparently obli!ious to +elia0s annoyance and to the fact that +elia may feel rejected by 2osalind0s obsession with 7rlando, uses the intimate thou from in response. R$. %: +elia5 ]ou ha!e simply misused our se$ with your lo!e prate. Ge must ha!e your doublet and hose plucked o!er your head, and sbow the world what the bird hath done to her own nest. 2osalind5 7 coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, that thou didst know how many fathoms deep I am in lo!ee *ut it cannot be sounded. By affection hath nan unknown bottom, like the *ay of #ortugal. +elia5 7r rather bonomless, that as fast as you pour affection in. it runs out. 2osalind5 <o. That same wicked bastard of Aenus, that was begot of thought, concei!ed of spleen and born of madness, that blind rascally boy that abuses e!eryone0s eyes because his own are out, let him be judge how deep I am in lo!e. I0ll tell the "liena, I cannot be out of sight of 7rlando. I0ll go find a shadow and sigh till he come. +elia5 "nd I0ll sleep. Githout knowledge of the tu B vous distinction and what it can signal about social and permnal relationships, we would lose some of the significance of this scene. :. Regisler5 Register is the term used in linguistics to describe the relationship between a particular style of language and its conte$t of use. "s language users, we can recognize a wide range of styles e!en though we might not be able to acti!ely produce them. "n e$ample of a linguistic register is legal discoursekwe recognize a legal document when we see one, but lawyers are generally the only people who are trained to produce them using appropriate linguistic choices. In /hakespeare0s A .idsummer @ight’ s Dream, social order, and the importance of acting appropriately for your station in life are !ery important themes. +haracters in the play include fairies, nobility and ordinary working people and the different social status of each group is marked through their different style of language. ;. Speech and silence2e$ale characters in plays5 There is e!idence that men tend to talk more than women in mi$ed se$ con!ersations (/pender, 8@@4. It is suggested that the reason why it is accepted that women are the talkati!e se$ is that the amount they talk is net compared with the amount that men talk, but with silence. In fact silence is the preferred state for women in a patriarchal society. There is certainly some support for this hypothesis at least in the *ritish dramatic heritage5 some of /hakespeare0s characters notably regard silence in women as a !irtue. In The Taming of the &hrew for e$ample, as Fathefina, the 6shrew0 of the title, is re!iled for being outspoken, her sister *ianca is praised for her silence5 R$. %; Tranio5 That wench is stark mad or wonderful forward. 1ucentio5 *ut in the other0s silence do I see Baid0s mild beha!iour and sobriety. 4o# to Analy7e &ra$atic Te%ts/ Galter <ash (8@&@ suggests that dramatic te$ts can be analyzed in a series of stages, starting with the most basic and least contro!ersial, and working up to the most sophisticated and debatable. If you are re-uired to analyze a dramatic te$t, you may find it useful to refer to thee guidelines. The stages he outlines are as follows5 • Paraphrase the te%tki.e. put it into your own words5 This can be -uite a crude approach, but it ensures that your basic understanding of the te$t is sound. It is a chance to check any unfamiliar words or grammatical constructions. It also allows you to check how each of the characters contributes to the plot of the play. "lthough your paraphrase should be as close to the content of the original as possible, there may be still some room for ambiguities or different interpretations. "s far as possible, you should note these, perhaps by indicating the !arious possible interpretations in different paraphrases. • .rite a co$$entary on the te%t: This is where you interpret what significance of the e$tract you are analyzing is in the conte$t of the play as a whole5 how does it contribute to the de!elopment of the plot and the e!olution of the charactersJ This is also a chance to check any literary allusions and ambiguities which gi!e the te$t more than one possible reading. • Select a theoretical approach, perhaps ro$ those discussed abo+e: This will be a narrower process, where you consider the te$t from a specific point of !iew, applying one theoretical model of the way language and communication work. This needs to be !ery thorough and detailed, and it is more likely to be debatable whether the approach you ha!e selected is appropriate. "pplying a theoretical model to the te$t may lea!e you feeling that you ha!e learnt !ery little that is new, or that you ha!e learnt a great deal == it is far more 6chancey0 than either the paraphrase or the commentary in terms of what you get out of it. Chapter No LEVELS OF ANALYSIS PHONODGRAPHICAL LEVEL5 MORPHOLOGICAL LEVEL FOCUS ON • Sound 'nstrumenting7 =raphon DD =raphical Means • Morphemic *epetition/ 2;tension o Morphemic +alency "s it is clear from the title of the chapter, the stylistic use of phonemes and their graphical representation will be !iewed here. 3ealing with !arious cases of phonemic and graphemic foregrounding we should not forget the unilateral nature of a phoneme5 this language unit helps to differentiate meaningful le$emes but has no meaning of its own. +f.5 while unable to speak about the semantics of houi, hju5i, we acknowledge their sense= differentiating significance in 6sew0 hsoui and 6sew0 hsju5iH or haui, houi in 6bow0 etc. The stylistic approach to the utterance is not confined to its structure and sense. There is another thing to be taken into account which in a certain type of communication plays an important role. This is the way a word, a phrase or a sentence sounds. The sound of most words taken separately will ha!e little or no aesthetic !alue. It is in combination with other words that a word may ac-uire a desired phonetic effect. The way a separate word sounds may produce a certain euphonic effect, but this is a matter of indi!idual perception and feeling and therefore subjecti!e. The theory of sense == independence of separate sounds is based on a subjecti!e interpretation of sound associations and has nothing to do with objecti!e scientific data. Howe!er, the sound of a word, or more e$actly the way words sound in combination, cannot fail to contribute something to the general effect of the message, particularly when the sound effect has been deliberately worked out. This can easily be recognized when analyzing alliterati!e word combinations or the rhymes in certain stanzas or from more elaborate analysis of sound arrangement. The phonemic structure of the word pro!es to be important for the creation of e$pressi!e and emoti!e connotations. The acoustic form of the word foregrounds the sounds of nature, man and inanimate objects, emphasizing their meaning as well. /till, de!oid of denotational or connotational meaning, a phoneme, according to recent studies, has a strong associati!e and sound=instrumenting power. Gell=known are numerous cases of onomatopoeia == the use of words whose sounds imitate those of the signified object or action, such as 6hiss0, 6bowwow0, 6murmur0, 6bump0, 6grumble0, 6sizzle0 and many more. Imitating the sounds of nature, man, inanimate objects, the acoustic form of the word foregrounds the latter, ine!itably emphasizing its meaning too. Thus the phonemic structure of the word pro!es to be important for the creation of e$pressi!e and emotive connotations. " message, containing an onomatopoeic word is not limited to transmitting the logical information only, but also supplies the !i!id portrayal of the situation described. #oetry abounds in some specific types of sound=instrumenting, the leading role belonging to alliteration == the repetition of consonants, usually in the beginning of words, and assonance == the repetition of similar !owels, usually in stressed syllables. They both may produce the effect of euphony (a sense of ease and comfort in pronouncing or hearing or cacophony (a sense of strain and discomfort in pronouncing or hearing. "s an e$ample of the first may ser!e the famous lines of R.". #oe5 ...silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain... "n e$ample of the second is pro!ided by the unspeakable combination of sounds found in 2. *rowning5 @or soul helps flesh now more than flesh helps soul. Rhy$e is the repetition of identical or similar terminal sound combination of words. 2hyming words are generally placed at a regular distance from each other. In !erses they are usually placed at the end of the corresponding lines. Identity and similarity of sound combinations may be relati!e. ?or instance, we distinguish between full rhymes and incomplete rhymes. The full rhyme presupposes identity of the !owel sound and the following consonant sounds in a stressed syllable, including the initial consonant of the second syllable (in polysyllabic words, we ha!e e$act or identical rhymes. 8ncomplete rhymes present a greater !ariety. They can be di!ided into two main groups5 vowel rhymes and consonant rhymes. In !owel=rhymes the !owels of the syllables in corresponding words are identical, but the consonants may be different as in flesh, fresh, press. +onsonant rhymes, on the contrary, show concordance in consonants and disparity in !owels, as in worth, forthF tale, toolF treble, troubleF flung, long. Bodifications in rhyming sometimes go so far as to make one word rhyme with a combination of wordsH or two or e!en three words rhyme with a corresponding two or three words, as in ,upon her honour, won her., ,bottom, forgot them, shot him.. /uch rhymes are called compound or broken. The peculiarity of rhymes of this type is that the combination of words is made to sound like one word == a de!ice which ine!itably gi!es a collo-uial and sometimes a humorous touch to the utterance. +ompound rhyme may be set against what is called eye rhyme, where the letters and not the sounds are identical, as in love < prove, flood < brood, have < grave. It follows that compound rhyme is percei!ed in reading aloud, eye rhyme can only be percei!ed in the written !erse. /ull rhymes5 Bight = 2ight 8ncomplete rhymes5 worth = forth 'ye rhyme5 lo!e = pro!e Types o Rhy$es 8 +ouplet5 aa5 The seed ye sow, another reapsH (a The wealth ye find, another keepsH (a ) Triplet5 aaa5 "nd on the leaf a browner hue, (a "nd in the hea!en that clear obscure, (a /o softly dark, and darkly pure, (a % +ross rhymes5 abab5 It is the hour when from the boughs (a The nightingales0 high note is heard H (b It is the hour when lo!ers0 !ows (a /eem sweet in e!ery whispered word, (b ' ?rame (ring5 abba5 He is not hereH but far away (a The noise of life begins again, (b "nd ghastly thro 0the drizzling rain (b 7n the bald streets breaks the blank day (a K Internal rhyme ,I dwelt alone (a in a world of moan, (a "nd my soul was a stagnant tide.. Rhyth$ e$ists in all spheres of human acti!ity and assumes multifarious forms. It is a mighty weapon in stirring up emotions whate!er its nature or origin, whether it is musical, mechanical or symmetrical as in architecture. The most general definition of rhythm may be e$pressed as follows5 ,rhythm is a flow, mo!ement, procedure, etc. characterized by basically regular recurrence of elements or features, as beat, or accent, in alternation with opposite or different elements of features. (Gebster0s <ew Gorld 3ictionary. 2hythm can be percei!ed only pro!ided that there is some kind of e$perience in catching the opposite elements or features in their correlation, and, what is of paramount importance, e$perience in catching regularity of alternating patterns. 2hythm is a periodicity, which re-uires specification as to the type of periodicity. In !erse rhythm is regular succession of weak and strong stress. " rhythm in language necessarily demands oppositions that alternate5 long, shortH stressed, unstressedH high, low and other contrasting segments of speech. "cademician A. B. shirmunsky suggests that the concept of rhythm should be distinguished from that of a metre. 'etre is any form of periodicity in !erse, its kind being determined by the character and number of syllables of which it consists. The metre is a strict regularity, consistency and e$changeability. 2hythm is fle$ible and sometimes an effort is re-uired to percei!e it. In classical !erse it is percei!ed at the background of the metreH in accented !erse, by the number of stresses in a lineH and in prose, by the alternation of similar syntactical patterns. 2hythm in !erse as a /3 is defined as a combination of the ideal metrical scheme and the !ariations of it, !ariations which are go!erned by the standard. 2hythm is not a mere addition to !erse or emoti!e prose, which also has its rhythm. 2hythm intensifies the emotions. It contributes to the general sense. Buch has been said and writhen about rhythm in prose. /ome in!estigators, in attempting to find rhythmical patterns of prose, superimpose metrical measures on prose. *ut the parameters of the rhythm in !erse and in prose are entirely different. 2hythm is a combination of the ideal metrical scheme and its !ariations, which are go!erned by the standard. English 'etrical Patterns 8 8ambic metre5 =L=L=L5 Those e!ening bells, Those e!ening bells ) Trochaic metre5 L=L= 5 Gelling waters, winsome words (/winborne % Dactylic metre5 L= = L = =5 Ghy do you cry GillieJ Ghy do you cryJ ' Amphibrachic metre5 =L=5 " diller, a dollar, a ten o0clock scholarl K Anapaestic metre5 = =L= = L5 /aid the flee, 61et us fly0, /aid the fly, 61et us flee0, /o they flew through a flaw in the flue. To create additional information in a prose discourse sound=instrumenting is seldom used. In contemporary ad!ertising, mass media and, abo!e all, imaginati!e prose sound is foregrounded mainly through the change of its accepted graphical representation. This intentional !iolation of the graphical shape of a word (or word combination used to reflect its authentic pronunciation is called graphon. Craphon, indicating irregularities or carelessness of pronunciation were occasionally introduced into Rnglish no!els and journalism as early as the beginning of the eighteenth century and since then ha!e ac-uired an e!er growing fre-uency of usage, popularity among writers, journalists, ad!ertisers, and a continuously widening scope of functions. Craphon pro!ed to be an e$tremely concise but effecti!e means of supplying information about the speaker0s origin, social and educational background, physical or emotional condition, etc. /o, when the famous Thackeray0s character == butler ]ellowplush == impresses his listeners with the learned words pronouncing them as 6sellybrated0 (celebrated, 6benny!iolent0 (bene!olent, 6illygitmit0 (illegitimate, 6jewinile0 (ju!enile, or when the no less famous Br. *abbitt uses 6peerading0 (parading, 6Rytalians0 (Italians, 6peepul0 (people == the reader obtains not only the !i!id image and the social, cultural, educational characteristics of the personages, but also both Thackeray0s and /. 1ewis0 sarcastic attitude to them. 7n the other hand, 6The b=b=b=b=bas=tud == he seen me c==c=c=c=coming0 in 2. #. Garren0s &ugar )oy’s speech or 6]ou don0t mean to thay that thith ith your firth time0 (*.+. show the physical defects of the speakers == the stuttering of one and the lisping of the other. Craphon, thus indi!idualizing the character0s speech, adds to his plausibility, !i!idness, memorability. "t the same time, graphon is !ery good at con!eying the atmosphere of authentic li!e communication, of the informality of the speech act. /ome amalgamated forms, which are the result of strong assimilation, became clich>s in contemporary prose dialogue5 6gimme0 (gi!e me, 6lemme0 (let me, 6gonna0 (going to, 6gotta0 (got to, 6coupla0 (couple of, 6mighta0 (might ha!e, 6willya0 (will you, etc. This fla!our of informality and authenticity brought graphon popularity with ad!ertisers. *ig and small eating places in!ite customers to attend their 6#ik=kwik store0, or 6The 3onut (doughnut #lace0, or the 62ite *read /hop0, or the 6Gok=in ?ast ?ood 2estaurant0, etc. The same is true about newspaper, poster and TA ad!ertising5 6/ooper +lass Bodel0 cars, 6Fnee=hi0 socks, 62ite "id0 medicines. " recently published book on +ockney was entitled by the authors 6The Buwer Tongue0H on the back flaps of big freight= cars one can read 6?olio me0, etc. Graphical changes may reflect not only the peculiarities of pronunciation, but are also used to con!ey the intensity of the stress, emphasizing and thus foregrounding the stressed words. To such purely graphical means, not in!ol!ing the !iolations, we should refer all changes of the type (italics, capitalization, spacing of graphemes (hyphenation, multiplication and of lines. The latter was widely e$ercised in 2ussian poetry by A. Bayako!sky, famous for his 6steps0 in !erse lines, or ". Aoznesensky. In Rnglish the most often referred to 6graphical imagist0 !Las e. e. cummings. "ccording to the fre-uency of usage, !ariability of functions, the first place among graphical means of foregrounding is occupied by italics. *esides italicizing words, to add to their logical or emoti!e significance, separate syllables and morphemes may also be emphasized by italics (which is highly characteristic of 3. /alinger or T. +apote. Intensity of speech (often in commands is transmitted through the multiplication of a grapheme or capitalization of the word, as in *abbitt0s shriek 6"lllll aboarrrrrd0, or in the desperate appeal in ". Hu$ley0s )rave @ew !orld ( 6Help. Help. HR1#0. "yphenation of a wofa suggests the rhymed or clipped manner in which it is uttered as in the humiliating comment from ?l. 70+onnor0s story ( 6grinning like a chim=pan=zee0. /umming up the informational options of the graphical arrangement of a word (a line, a discourse, one sees their !aried application for recreating the indi!idual and social peculiarities of the speaker, the atmosphere of the communication act == all aimed at re!ealing and emphasizing the author0s !iewpoint. M#&$hemic Re$etiti#n5 E3tensi#n #+ M#&$hemic V'lenc( The basic unit of this le!el being a morpheme we shall concentrate on e$amining the ways of foregrounding a morpheme so that the latter, apart from its internet meaning, becomes !ehicle of additional information == logical, emoti!e and e$pressi!e. .orphemic foregrounding is meant to add logical, emoti!e and e$pressi!e connotation. Borphemic foregrounding is realized through5 8 repetition of root and affi(al morphemes ) e(tention of morphemic valency. Thus, one important way of promoting a morpheme is its repetition. *oth root and affi(ational morphemes can be emphasized through repetition. Rspecially !i!idly it is obser!ed in the repetition of affi$ational morphemes which normally carry the main weight of the structural and not of the denotational significance. Ghen repeated, they come into the focus of attention and stress either their logical meaning (e.g. that of contrast, negation, absence of -uality as in prefi$es a<, anti<, mis=H or of smallness as in suffi$es =ling and =etteH their emoti!e and e!aluati!e meaning, as in suffi$es forming degrees of comparisonH or else they add to the rhythmical effect and te$t unity The second, e!en more effecti!e way of using a morpheme for the creation of additional information is e$tension of its normati!e !alency which results in the formation of new words. They are not neologisms in the true sense for they are created for special communicati!e situations only, and are not used beyond these occasions. This is why they are called occasional words and are characterized by freshness, originality, lucidity of their inner form and morphemic structure. Aery often occasional words are the result of morphemic repetition, for e$ample5 6I am an undersecretary in an underbureau0. The stress on the insignificance of the occupation of 8. /haw0s heroine brings forth both the repetition of the prefi$ under= and the appearance, due to it, of the occasional word 6underbureau0. In case of repetition a morpheme gains much independence and bears major responsibility for the creation of additional information and stylistic effect. In case of occasional coinages an indi!idual morpheme is only instrumental in bringing forth the impact of their combination, i.e. of new indi!idual le$ical unit. Chapter No LEVELS OF ANALYSIS LE2ICAL LEVELBSEMANTIC STRUCTURE OF A WORD FOCUS ON • 5ord and its Semantic Structure • )enotational E Connotational Meanings o a 5ord • The Theory o "pposition@ (olysemy and Synonymy • Stylistic Classiication o the 2nglish +ocabulary • The *ole o the Conte;t in the ActualiFation o Meaning The idea of pre!ious chapters was to illustrate potential possibilities of linguistic units more primiti!e than the word, found at lower le!els of language structure and yet capable of con!eying additional information when foregrounded in a specially organized conte$t. The forthcoming section is going to be one of the longest and most important in this book, for it is de!oted to a linguistic unit of major significance == the word, which names, -ualifies and e!aluates the micro=and macrocosm of the surrounding world. &ign is a material, sensuously percei!ed object (phenomenon, action appearing in the process of cognition and communication in the capacity of a representati!e (substitute of another object (or objects and used for recei!ing, storing, recasting and transforming information about this object (I.2.G.5:8 !ord == a unit of language functioning within the sentence or within a part of it which by its sound or graphical form e$presses a concrete or abstract notion or a grammatical notion through one of its meanings and which is capable of enriching its semantic structure by ac-uiring new meanings and losing old ones. It possesses an enormous potentiality for generating new meaningsH (I.2.G.5:), :: !ord == a speech unit used for the purposes of human communication, materially representing a group of sounds, possessing a meaning, susceptible to grammatical employment and characterized by formal and semantic unity. ("ntrushina5 84 ," word is a basic unit of a language, which denotes a concept and e$presses emotions and relations.. (Beillet Le(ical .eaning or Dictionary .eaningA • refers the mind to a concrete concept, phenomenon, or thing of objecti!e reality, whether real or imaginaryH • a means by which a word=form is made to e$press a definite conceptH • closely related to a conceptH • sometimes identified with a concept. " concept is considered an abstract or general idea of some phenomenon of objecti!e reality and also comprises subjecti!e feelings and emotions of human beings. " word e$presses a concept by its meanings. Rach meaning denotes a separate concept. #rof. Galperin0s classification of the semantic structure of a word (Boscow school comprises5 H* Logical O* @ominal P* 'motive meanings. Logical (referential or denotati!e meaning is the precise naming of a feature, idea, phenomenon or object5 head, can (sl., upper story (sl., brain (sl., etc. are united by the same denotati!e meaning. The nominal meaning nominates an object. It is referred to proper nouns5 Br. *lack, Br. Hope. It ser!es the purpose of singling out one definite and singular object out of a whole class of similar objects5 e.g. *rowning, Taylor, /cotland, *lack, +handler, +hester, etc. 'motive meaning also materializes a concept in the word, but, unlike logical meaning, it has reference not directly to things or phenomena of objecti!e reality, but to the feelings and emotions of the speaker towards these thighs or to his emotions as such. Rmoti!e meaning (colouring can be usual or occasional. " girl (tart, broad, bird are referred to one person to portray the character0s respect or disrespect. +onte(tual emotive meaning is an emoti!e meaning, ac-uired by a word only in a definite conte$t5 e.g. 8. .His face is red at first and then goes white and his eyes stare as if they0ll pop out of his head.. ). ,Gould you like me to pop downstairs and make you a cup of cocoaJ. +onte(tual meaning is accidental and it is imposed by and depends on the conte$tH ,"wake ye sons of /pain, awake, arisee (*yron, (arise, re!olt. +onte$tual meaning of words in poetry ser!es the purposes of stylistic con!ergence5 ,Ghen the e!ening is spread out against the sky 1ike a patient etherized upon a table.. (T/. Rliot +lassification of the semantic structure according to 1eningrad school of stylistics5 /emantic structure of a word (#rof. I. A. "rnold consists of denotative and connotative meanings. Table5 /emantic structure of words (#rof. "rnold connotati!e /tylistic component The e$oti+e co$ponent (usual or occasional of the meaning of a word is its capacity to e!oke or directly e$press emotions. It is called emoti!e charge, emoti!e connotation or colouring5 ?h: !hy: "ell: "ere she is, poor little lamb, with her bags all packed. (B. 3ickens. ,/he was a thin, frail little thing, and her hair which was delicate and thin was bobbed.. E+aluati+e co$ponent of connotati!e meaning bears reference to things, phenomena or ideas through a kind of e!aluation of them5 R.g. 8 feel so darned lonely. (Gr. Green. It re!eals the subjecti!e, e!aluating attitude of the writer to the things or e!ents spoken of5 e.g. &he has not a flirt, not even a couette. (Galsworthy R!aluati!e component is meant to portray negati!e or positi!e attitude, appro!al or disappro!al5 Time Q tested methodAA out<of<date method #0olitics D is only the art to reach high positionF wisdom is the art to get power, wealth, and positionE* (H. ?ielding E%pressi+e co$ponent intensifies the denotati!e or connotati!e meaning (emotions and feelings5 ,"e is ever such a clever man. (e!er, ne!er, all, -uite, really are intensifiers #"e is ever such a clever manE 6ever, never, all, uite, really are intensifiers7 I ha!e much time. I ha!e a lot of time. Hyperbole He has heaps of time. He0s got bags of money. Stylistic co$ponent (oregrounding is characteristic of particular styles or spheres of communication5 oicial: red2tape clich>s: ?8 beg to informE collo=uial: slang3 @argon: sneak, snob, lout, trash, busy<body, etc. R!aluati!e component 3enotati!e meaning R$pressi!e component Rmoti!e component Table 7ffspring Infant Tot *abe *rat Fid 4EA& #ate #oll /conce <oodle <ob <ut +oco +ont *ean *lock Qpper /tory 3ome *row Temple *rain "n opposition is a relationship of partial difference between two partially similar elements of the language. /teed Horse Gee Hence, the most essential feature of a word is that it e$presses the concept of a thing, process, phenomenon, naming (denoting them. +oncept is a logical category, its linguistic counterpart is meaning. .eaning, as the outstanding scholar 1. Aygotsky put it, is the unity of generalization, communication and thinking. "n entity of e$treme comple$ity, the meaning of a word is liable to historical changes, of which you know from the course of le$icology and which are responsible for the formation of an e$panded semantic structure of a word. This structure is constituted of !arious types of le$ical meanings, the major one +HI13 being denotational, which informs of the subject of communicationH and also including connotational, which informs about the participants and conditions of communication. The list and specifications of connotational meanings !ary with different linguistic schools and indi!idual scholars and include such entries as pragmatic (directed at the perlocutionary effect of utterance, associative (connected, through indi!idual psychological or linguistic associations, with related and nonrelated notions, ideological, or conceptual (re!ealing political, social, ideological preferences of the user, evaluative (stating the !alue of the indicated notion, emotive (re!ealing the emotional layer of cognition and perception, e(pressive (aiming at creating the image of the object in -uestion, stylistic (indicating 6the register0, or the situation of the communication. The abo!e=mentioned meanings are classified as connotational not only because they supply additional (and not the logicalLdenotational information, but also because, for the most part, they are obser!ed not all at once and not in all words either. /ome of them are more important for the act of communication than the others. Aery often they o!erlap. /o, all words possessing an emotive meaning are also e!aluati!e (e.g. 6rascal0, 6ducky0, though this rule is not re!ersed, as we can find non=emoti!e, intellectual e!aluation (e.g. 6good0, 6bad0. "gain, all emoti!e words (or practically all, for that matter are also e(pressive, while there are hundreds of e$pressi!e words which cannot be treated as emotive (take, for e$ample the so=called e$pressi!e !erbs, which not only denote some action or process but also create their image, as in 6to gulp0 9 to swallow in big lumps, in a hurryH or 6to sprint0 9 to run fast. The number, importance and the o!erlapping character of connotational meanings incorporated into the semantic structure of a word, are brought forth by the conte$t, i.e. a concrete speech act that identifies and actualizes each one. Bore than that5 each conte$t does not only specify the e$isting semantic (both denotational and connotational possibilities of a word, but also is capable of adding new ones, or de!iating rather considerably from what is registered in the dictionary. *ecause of that all conte$tual meanings of a word can ne!er be e$hausted or comprehensi!ely enumerated. +ompare the following cases of conte$tual use of the !erb 6to pop0 in /tan *arstow0s no!el 6"sk Be Tomorrow05 8. His face is red at first and then it goes white and his eyes stare as if they0ll pop out of his head. ). 6Iust pop into the scullery and get me something to stand this on0. %. 6There is a fish and chip shop up on the main road. I thought you might show your gratitude by popping up for some0. '. 6I0!e no need to change or anything then0. 6<o, just pop your coat on and you0re fine0. K. 6"ctually Brs. /wallow is out. *ut she won0t be long. /he0s popped up the road to the shops0. :. 6Gould you like me to pop downstairs and make you a cup of cocoaJ0 In the semantic actualization of a word the conte$t plays a dual role5 on one hand, it cuts off all meanings irrele!ant for the gi!en communicati!e situation. 7n the other, it foregrounds one of the meaningful options of a word, focusing the communicators0 attention on one of the denotational or connotational components of its semantic structure. The significance of the conte$t is comparati!ely small in the field of stylistic connotations, because the word is labelled stylistically before it enters some conte$t, i.e. in the dictionary5 recollect the well=known contractions =vulg*, arch*, si., etc., which make an indispensable part of a dictionary entry. /o there is sense to start the sur!ey of connotational meanings with the stylistic differentiation of the !ocabulary. St(listic Di++e&enti'ti#n #+ the V#c'0)l'&(% Lite&'&( St&'t)m #+ W#&ds5 C#ll#E)i'l W#&ds The word=stock of any gi!en language can be roughly di!ided into three une!en groups, differing from each other by the sphere of its possible use. The biggest di!ision is made up of neutral words, possessing no stylistic connotation and suitable for any communicati!e situationH two smaller ones are literary and collouial strata respecti!ely. 1iterary words ser!e to satisfy communicati!e demands of official, scientific, poetic messages, while the collo-uial ones are employed in non=official e!eryday communication. Though there is no immediate correlation between the written and the oral forms of speech on one hand, and the literary and collouial words, on the other, yet, for the most part, the first ones are mainly obser!ed in the written form, as most literary messages appear in writing. "nd !ice !ersa5 though there are many e$amples of collo-uialisms in writing (informal letters, diaries, certain passages of memoirs, etc., their usage is associated with the oral form of communication. +onse-uently, taking for analysis printed materials we shall find literary words in authorial speech, descriptions, considerations, while collo-uialisms will be obser!ed in the types of discourse, simulating (copying e!eryday oral communication = i.e., in the dialogue (or interior monologue of a prose work. Ghen we classify some speech (te$t fragment as literary or collouial it does not mean that all the words constituting it ha!e a corresponding stylistic meaning. Bore than that5 words with a pronounced stylistic connotation are few in any type of discourse, the o!erwhelming majority of its le$is being neutral. "s famous 2ussian philologist 1.A. /hcherba once said == a stylistically coloured word is like a, drop of paint added to a glass of pure water and colouring the whole of it. <either of the two named groups of words, possessing a stylistic meaning, is homogeneous as to the -uality of the meaning, fre-uency of use, sphere of application, or the number and character of potential users. This is why each one is further di!ided into the general, i.e. known to and used by most nati!e speakers in generalized literary (formal or collo-uial (informal communication, and special bulks. The latter ones, in their turn, are subdi!ided into subgroups, each one ser!ing a rather narrowH specified communicati!e purpose. /o, among special literary words, as a rule, at least two major subgroups are mentioned. They are5 8. Ter$s, i.e. words denoting objects, processes, phenomena of science, humanities, techni-ue. ). Archais$s, i.e. words, a denoting historical phenomena which are no more in use (such as 6yeoman0, 6!assal0, 6falconet0. These are historical words. a used in poetry in the OAII=OIO cc. (such as 6steed0 for 6horse0H 6-uoth0 for 6said0H 6woe0 for 6sorrow0. These are poetic words. b In the course of language history ousted by newer synonymic words (such as 6whereof0 9 of whichH 6to deem0 9 to thinkH 6repast0 9 mealH 6nay0 9 no or forms (6maketh0 9 makesH 6thou wilt0 9 you willH 6brethren0 9 brothers. These are called archaic words (archaic forms proper. 1iterary words, both general (also called learned, bookish, high<flown and special, contribute to the message the tone of solemnity, sophistication, seriousness, gra!ity and learnedness. They are used in official papers and documents, in scientific communication, in high poetry, in authorial speech of creati!e prose. +ollouial words, on the contrary, mark the message as informal, non=official and con!ersational. "part from general collo-uial words, widely used by all speakers of the language in their e!eryday communication (e.g. 6dad0, 6kid0, 6crony0, 6fan0, 6to pop0, 6folks0, such special subgroups may be mentioned5 8. Slang forms the biggest one. /lang words, used by most speakers in !ery informal communication, are highly emoti!e and e$pressi!e and as such, lose their originality rather fast and are replaced by newer formations. This tendency to synonymic e$pansion results in long chains of synonyms of !arious degrees of e$pressi!eness, denoting one and the same concept. /o, the idea of a 6pretty girl0 is worded by more than one hundred ways in slang. In only one no!el by /. 1ewis there are close to a dozen synonyms used by *abbitt, the central character, in reference to a girl5 cookie, tomato, ;ane, sugar, bird, cutie, etc. The substandard status of slang words and phrases, through uni!ersal usage, can be raised to the standard collo-uial5 pal, chum, crony for 6friend0H heavies, woolies for 6thick panties0H boo-e for 6li-uor0H dough for 6money0H how’s tricks for 6how0s life0H beat it for 6go away0 and many many more == are e$amples of such a transition. ). Aargonis$s stand close to slang, also being substandard, e(pressive and emotive, but, unlike slang they are used by limited groups of people, united either professionally (in this case we deal with professional Iargonisms, or professionalisms, or socially (here we deal with jargonisms proper. In distinction from slang, Iargonisms of both types co!er a narrow semantic field5 in the first case it is that, connected with the technical side of some profession. /o, in oil industry, e.g., for the terminological 6driller0 there e$ist 6borer0, 6digger0, 6wrencher0, 6hogger0, 6brake weight0H for 6pipeliner0H 6swabber0, 6bender0, 6cat0, 6old cat0, 6collar= pecker0, 6hammer man0H for 6geologist0 == 6smeller0, 6pebble pup0, 6rock hound0, 6witcher0, etc. ?rom all the e$amples at least two points are e!ident5 professionalisms are formed according to the e$isting word=building patterns or present e$isting words in new meanings, and, co!ering the field of special professional knowledge, which is semantically limited, they offer a !ast !ariety of synonymic choices for naming one and the same professional item. Iargonisms proper are characterized by similar linguistic features, but differ in function and sphere of application. They originated from the thie!es0 jargon (l0argo, cant and ser!ed to conceal the actual significance of the utterance from the uninitiated. Their major function thus was to be cryptic, secretive. This is why among them there are cases of conscious deformation of the e$isting words. The so=called back jargon (or back slang can ser!e as an e$ample5 in their effort to conceal the machinations of dishonest card=playing, gamblers used numerals in their re!ersed form5 6ano0 for 6one0, 6owt0 for 6two0, 6erth0 for 6three0. "nglo="merican tradition, starting with R. #artridge, a famous Rnglish le$icographer, does not differentiate between slang and Iargonisms regarding these groups as one e$tensi!e stratum of words di!ided into general slang, used by all, or most, speakers and special slang, limited by the professional or social standing of the speaker. This debate appears to concentrate more on terminology than on essence. Indeed slang (general slang and jargonisms (special slang ha!e much in common5 are emoti!e, e$pressi!e, unstable, fluctuating, tending to e$panded synonymity within certain le$ico=semantic groups and limited to a highly informal, substandard communication. /o it seems appropriate to use the indicated terms as synonyms. %. ,ulgaris$s are coarse words with a strong emoti!e meaning, mostly derogatory, normally a!oided in polite con!ersation. History of !ulgarisms reflects the history of social ethics. /o, in /hakespearian times people were much more linguistically frank and disphemistic in their communication than in the age of Rnligtenment or the Aictorian era, famous for its prudish and reser!ed manners. <owadays words which were labelled !ulgar in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries are considered such no more. In fact, at present we are faced with the re!erse of the problem5 there are practically no words banned from use by the modern permissi!e society. /uch intensifiers as 6bloody0, 6damned0, 6cursed0, 6hell of0, formerly deleted from literature and not allowed in con!ersation, are not only welcomed in both written and oral speech, but, due to constant repetition, ha!e lost much of their emoti!e impact and substandard -uality. 7ne of the best=known "merican editors and critics Ba$well #erkins, working with the serialized 8@)@ magazine edition of Hemingway0s no!el A /arewell to Arms found that the publishers deleted close to a dozen words which they considered !ulgar for the publication. #reparing the hard= co!er edition #erkins allowed half of them back (6son of a bitch0, 6whore0, 6whorehound0, etc.. /tarting from the late fifties no publishing house objected to any coarse or obscene e$pressions. +onse-uently, in contemporary Gest Ruropean and "merican prose all words, formerly considered !ulgar for public use (including the four=letter words, are accepted by the e$isting moral and ethical standards of society and censorship. '. &ialectal #ords are normati!e and de!oid of any stylistic meaning in regional dialects, but used outside of them, carry a strong fla!our of the locality where they belong. In Great *ritain four major dialects are distinguished5 1owland /cotch, <orthern, Bidland (+entral and /outhern. In the Q/" three major dialectal !arieties are distinguished5 <ew Rngland, /outhern and Bidwestern (+entral, Bidland. These classifications do not include many minor local !ariations 3ialects markedly differ on the phonemic le!el5 one and the same phoneme is differently pronounced in each of them. They differ also on the le$ical le!el, ha!ing their own names for locally e$isting phenomena and also supplying locally circulating synonyms for the words, accepted by the language in general. /ome of them ha!e entered the general !ocabulary and lost their dialectal status (6lad0, 6pet0, 6s-uash0, 6plaid0. K. *arbaris$s are foreign words or phrases, words assimilated from foreign languages and sometimes per!erted. They are5 a /ully assimilated (wine, street, reprimand, helicopterH b 0artially assimilated (machine, police, garage, prestigeH c Mnassimilated5 rendez!ous, belles letters, alter ego, chic, en passant, delicatessen, matador, hippopotamus, marauder, Bidi, guerre des baguettes, croissants. Rach of the abo!e=mentioned four groups justifies its label of special collo-uial words as each one, due to !arying reasons, has application limited to a certain group of people or to certain communicati!e situations. Le3ic'l St(listic De"ices .etaphor, .etonymy, &ynecdoche, 0lay on !ords, 8rony, 'pithet, "yperbole, Mnderstatement, ?(ymoron ]ou know by now that among multiple functions of the word the main one is to denote, denotational meaning thus being the major semantic characteristic of the word. In this paragraph we shall deal with the foregrounding of this particular function, i.e. with such types of denoting phenomena that create additional e(pressive, evaluative, sub4ective connotations. Ge shall deal in fact with the substitution of the e$isting names appro!ed by long usage and fi$ed in dictionaries by new, occasional, indi!idual ones, prompted by the speaker0s subjecti!e original !iew and e!aluation of things. This act of name=e$change, of substitution is traditionally referred to as transerence, for, indeed, the name of one object is transferred onto another, proceeding from their similarity (of shape, colour, function, etc., or closeness (of material e$istence, causeL effect, instrumentLresult, partLwhole relations, etc.. Rach type of intended substitution results in a stylistic de!ice (/3 called also a trope. The most fre-uently used, well known and elaborated among them is a metaphor == transference of names based on the associated likeness between two objects, as in the 6pancake0, or 6ball0, or 6!olcano0 for the 6sun0H 6sil!er dust0, 6se-uins0 for 6stars0H 6!ault0, 6blanket0, 6!eil0 for the 6sky0. ?rom pre!ious study you know that nomination == the process of naming reality by means of the language == proceeds from choosing one of the features characteristic of the object which is being named, for the representati!e of the object. The connection between the chosen feature, representing the object, and the word is especially !i!id in cases of transparent 6inner form0 when the name of the object can be easily traced to the name of one of its characteristics, for e$ample5 6railway0, 6chairman0, 6wa$en0. Thus the semantic structure of a word reflects, to a certain e$tent, characteristic features of the piece of reality which it denotes (names. /o it is only natural that similarity between real objects or phenomena finds its reflection in the semantic structures of words denoting them5 both words possess at least one common semantic component. In the abo!e e$amples with the 6sun0 this common semantic component is 6hot0 (hence ( 6!olcano0, 6pancake0 which are also 6hot0, or 6round0 (6ball0, 6pancake0 which are also of round shape. The e$pressi!eness of the metaphor is promoted by the implicit simultaneous presence of images of both objects == the one which is actually named and the one which supplies its own 6legal0 name. /o that formally we deal with the name transference based on the similarity of one feature common to two different entities, while in fact each one enters a phrase in the comple$ity of its other characteristics. The wider is the gap between the associated objects the more striking and une$pected == the more e$pressi!e == is the metaphor. If a metaphor in!ol!es likeness between inanimate and animate objects, we deal with personification, as in 6the face of 1ondon0, or 6the pain of the ocean0. Betaphor, as all other /3s, is fresh, orginal, genuine, when first used, and trite, hackneyed, stale when often repeated. In the latter case it gradually loses its e$pressi!eness becoming just another entry in the dictionary, as in the 6leg of a table0 or the 6sunrise0, thus ser!ing a !ery important source of enriching the !ocabulary of the language. Betaphor can be e$pressed by all notional parts of speech, and functions in the sentence as any of its members. Ghen the speaker (writer in his desire to present an elaborated image does not limit its creation to a single metaphor but offers a group of them, each supplying another feature of the described phenomenon, this cluster creates a sustained (prolonged metaphor. 7ur ne$t concern is a cluster of /3s, which are united into a small group as they ha!e much in common both in the mechanism of their formation and in their functioning. They are puns (also referred to as paronomasia, -eugma, !iolation of phraseological units, semantically false chains, and nonsense of non=se-uence. In the stylistic tradition of the Rnglish=speaking countries only the first two are widely discussed. The latter two, indeed, may be !iewed as slight !ariations of the first ones for, basically, the four some perform the same stylistic function in speech, and operate on the same linguistic mechanism5 namely, one word=form is deliberately used in two meanings. The effect of these /3s is humorous. +onte(tual conditions leading to the simultaneous realization of two meanings and to the formation of pun may !ary5 it can be misinterpretation of one speaker0s utterance by the other, which results in his remark dealing with a different meaning of the misinterpreted word or its homonym, as in the famous case from the 0ickwick 0apers Ghen the fat boy, Br. Gardle0s ser!ant, emerged from the corridor, !ery pale, he was asked by his master5 6Ha!e you been seeing any spiritsJ0 67r taking anyJ0 == added *ob "lien. The first 6spirits0 refers to supernatural forces, the second one to strong drinks. #unning may be the result of the speaker0s intended !iolation of the listener0s e$pectation, as in the jocular -uotation from *. R!ans 6There comes a period in e!ery man0s life, but she is just a semicolon in his0. Here we e$pect the second half of the sentence to unfold the content, proceeding from 6period0 understood as 6an inter!al of time0, while the author has used the word in the meaning of 6punctuation mark0 which becomes clear from the 6semicolon0, following it. Bisinterpretation may be caused by the phonetic similarity of two homonyms, such as in the crucial case of 7. Gilde0s play The 8mportance of )eing 'rnest. In !ery many cases poly=semantic !erbs that ha!e a practically unlimited le$ical !alency and can be combined with nouns of most !arying semantic groups, are deliberately used with two or more homogeneous members, which are not connected semantically, as in such e$amples from +h. 3ickens5 6He took his hat and his lea!e0, or 6/he went home, in a flood of tears and a sedan chair0. These are cases of classical zeugma, highly characteristic of Rnglish prose. Ghen the number of homogeneous members, semantically disconnected, but attached to the same !erb, increases, we deal with semantically false chains, which are thus a !ariation of zeugma. "s a rule, it is the last member of the chain that falls out of the thematic group, defeating our e$pectancy and producing humorous effect. The following case from /. 1eacock may ser!e an e$ample5 6" Go!erness wanted, must possess knowledge of 2omanian, 2ussian, Italian, /panish, German, Busic and Bining Rngineering0. "s you ha!e seen from the e$amples of classical zeugma, the ties between the !erb on one hand and each of the dependent members, on the other, are of different intensity and stability. In most cases one of them, together with the !erb, forms a phraseological unit or a clich>, in which the !erb loses some of its semantic independence and strength(for e$ample, 6to take one0s lea!e0 and 6to take one0s hat0. seugma restores the literal original meaning of the word, which also occurs in !iolation of phraseological units of different syntactical patterns, as in Galsworthy0s remark5 61ittle Ion was born with a sil!er spoon in his mouth which was rather curly and large0. The word 6mouth0, with its content, is completely lost in the phraseological unit which means 6to ha!e luck, to be born lucky0. "ttaching to the unit the -ualification of the mouth, the author re!i!es the meaning of the word and offers a !ery fresh, original and e$pressi!e description. /ometimes the speaker (writer interferes into the structure of the word attributing homonymous meanings to indi!idual morphemes as in these jocular definitions from Rsar0s dictionary5 professorship == a ship full of professorsH relying == telling the same story againH beheld == to ha!e somebody hold you, etc. It is possible to say thus that punning can be realized on most le!els of language hierarchy. Indeed, the described !iolation of word=structure takes place on the morphological le!elH zeugma and pun == on the le$ical le!elH !iolation of phraseological units includes both le$ical and syntactical le!elsH semantically false chains and one more /3 of this group == nonsense of non=se-uence on the syntactical le!el. <onsense of non=se-uence rests on the e$tension of syntactical !alency and results in joining two semantically disconnected clauses into one sentence, as in5 6Rmperor <ero played the fiddle, so they burnt 2ome0. (R. Two disconnected statements are forcibly linked together by cause L effect relations. Antonomasia is a le$ical /3 in which a proper name is used instead of a common noun or !ice !ersa, i.e. a /3, in which the nominal meaning of a proper name is suppressed by its logical meaning or the logical meaning ac-uires the new nominal component. 1ogical meaning, as you know, ser!es to denote concepts and thus to classify indi!idual objects into groups (classes. <ominal meaning has no classifying power for it applies to one single indi!idual object with the aim not of classifying it as just another of a number of objects constituting a definite group, but, on the contrary, with the aim of singling it out of the group of similar objects, of indi!idualizing one particular object. Indeed, the word 6Bary0 does not indicate whether the denoted object refers to the class of women, girls, boats, cats, etc., for it singles out without denotational classification. *ut in The Dreiser we read5 6He took little satisfaction in telling each Bary, shortly after she arri!ed, something....0 The attribute 6each0, used with the name, turns it into a common noun denoting any female. Here we deal with a case of antonomasia of the first type. "nother type of antonomasia we meet when a common noun ser!es as an indi!idualizing name, as in 3. +usack5 6There are three doctors in an illness like yours. I don0t mean only myself, my partner and the radiologist who does your O=rays, the three I0m referring to are 3r. 2est, 3r. 3iet and 3r. ?resh "ir0. /till another type of antonomasia is presented by the so=called 6speaking names0 == names whose origin from common nouns is still clearly percei!ed. /o, in such popular Rnglish surnames as Br. /mith or Br. *rown the etymology can be restored but no speaker of Rnglish today has it in his mind that the first one used to mean occupation and the second one colour. Ghile such names from /heridan0s /chool for /candal as Lady Tea-le or .r* &urface immediately raise associations with certain human -ualities due to the denotational meaning of the words 6to tease0 and 6surface0. The double role of the speaking names, both to name and to -ualify, is sometimes preser!ed in translation, for e$ample, the list of names from another of /heridan0s plays, The Rivals5 Biss 1anguishH Br. *ackbiteH Br. +redulousH Br. /nake, etc. 7r from ?. +ooper5 1ordH Iohn IawH Island 1eap=High. "ntonomasia is created mainly by nouns, more seldom by attributi!e combinations (as in 63r. ?resh "ir0 or phrases (as in 6Br. Ghat0s his name0. +ommon nouns used in the second type of antonomasia are in most cases abstract, though there are instances of concrete ones being used too. 'pithet is probably as well known to you as metaphor, because it is widely mentioned by the critics, scholars, teachers and students discussing a literary work. Rpithet e$presses characteristics of an object, both e$isting and imaginary. Its basic feature is its emoti!eness and subjecti!ity5 the characteristic attached to the object to -ualify it is always chosen by the speaker himself. 7ur speech ontologically being always emotionally coloured, it is possible to say that in epithet it is the emoti!e meaning of the word that is foregrounded to suppress the denotational meaning of the latter. Rpithet has remained o!er the centuries the most widely used /3, which is understandable, for it offers ample opportunities of -ualifying e!ery object from the author0s partial and subjecti!e !iewpoint, which is indispensable in creati!e prose, publicist style, and e!eryday speech. Through long and repeated use epithets become fi$ed. Bany fi$ed epithets are closely connected with folklore and can be traced buck to folk ballads (e.g. 6true lo!e0, 6merry +hristmas0, etc.. " number of them ha!e originated in euphemistic writing of the late si$teenth and se!enteenth centuries (e.g. 6a !aliant youth0, 6a trembling maiden0, 6dead silence0, etc.. Those which were first found in Homer0s poetry and ha!e been repeated since, are known as Homeric epithets (e.g. 6swift=footed "chilles0, 6rosy=fingered dawn0. The structure and semantics of epithets are e$tremely !ariable which is e$plained by their long and wide use. /emantically, there should be differentiated two main groups, the biggest of them being affective (or emotive proper. These epithets ser!e to con!ey the emotional e!aluation of the object by the speaker. Bost of the -ualifying words found in the dictionary can be and are used as affective epithets (e.g. 6gorgeous0, 6nasty0, 6magnificent0, 6atrocious0, etc.. The second group == figurative, or transferred, epithets == is formed of metaphors, metonymies and similes (which will be discussed later e$pressed by adjecti!es. R.g. 6the smiling sun0, 6the frowning cloud0, 6the sleepless pillow0, 6the tobacco=stained smile0, 6a ghost=like face0, 6a dreamlike e$perience0. 1ike metaphor, metonymy and simile, corresponding epithets are also based on similarity of characteristics of two objects in the first case, on nearness of the -ualified objects in the second one, and on their comparison in the third. In the o!erwhelming majority of e$amples epithet is e$pressed by adjecti!es or -ualitati!e ad!erbs (e.g. 6his triumphant look0 9 he looked triumphantly.n <ouns come ne$t. They are used either as e$clamatory sentences (6]ou, ostriche0 or as postpositi!e attributes (6"lonzo the +lown0, 62ichard of the 1ion Heart0. Rpithets are used singly, in pairs, in chains, in two=step structures, and in in!erted constructions, also as phrase=attributes. "ll pre!iously gi!en e$amples demonstrated single epithets. #airs are represented by two epithets joined by a conjunction or asyndetically as in 6wonderful and incomparable beauty0 or 6a tired old town0. +hains (also called strings of epithets present a group of homogeneous attributes !arying in number from three up to sometimes twenty and e!en more. R.g. 6]ou0re a scolding, unjust, abusi!e, aggra!ating, bad old creature0. ?rom the last e$ample it is e!ident that if a logical attribute (which in our case is the word 6old0 is included into the chain of epithets it begins to shine with their reflected light, i.e. the subjecti!ity of epithets irradiates onto the logical attribute and adapts it for e$pressi!e purposes, along with epithets proper. Two=step epithets are so called because the process of -ualifying seemingly passes two stages5 the -ualification of the object and the -ualification of the -ualification itself, as in 6an unnaturally mild day0, or 6a pompously majestic female0. "s you see from the e$amples, two=step epithets ha!e a fi$ed structure of "d! q "dj model. #hrase=epithets always produce an original impression, for e$ample, 6the sunshine=in= the=breakfast=room smell0, or 6a mo!e=if=you=dare e$pression0. Their originality proceeds from the fact of the rare repetition of the once coined phrase=epithet which, in its turn, is e$plained by the fact that into a phrase=epithet is turned a semantically self=sufficient word combination or e!en a whole sentence, which loses some of its independence and self= sufficiency, becoming a member of another sentence, and stri!es to return to normality. The forcible manner of this syntactical transformation is the main obstacle for repeated use of such phrasally=structured epithets. " different linguistic mechanism is responsible for the emergence of one more structural type of epithets, namely, in!erted epithets. They are based on the contradiction between the logical and the syntactical5 logically defining becomes syntactically defined and !ice !ersa. R.g. instead of 6this de!ilish woman0, where 6de!ilish0 is both logically and syntactically defining, and 6woman0 also both logically and syntactically defined, G. Thackeray says 6this de!il of a woman0. Here 6of a woman0 is syntactically an attribute, i.e. the defining, and 6de!il0 the defined, while the logical relations between the two remain the same as in the pre!ious e$ample ( 6a woman0 is defined by 6the de!il0. "ll in!erted epithets are easily transformed into epithets of a more habitual structure where there is no logico=syntactical contradiction, for e$ample, 6the giant of a man0 (a gigantic manH 6the prude of a woman0 (a prudish woman, etc. Ghen meeting an in!erted epithet do not mi$ it up with an ordinary of=phrase. Here the article with the second noun will help you in doubtful cases5 6the toy of the girl0 (the toy belonging to the girlH 6the toy of a girl0 (a small, toylike girl, or 6the kitten of the woman0 (the cat belonging to the womanH 6the kitten of a woman0 (a kittenlike woman. "yperbole == a stylistic de!ice in which emphasis is achie!ed through deliberate e$aggeration, like epithet, relies on the foregrounding of the emoti!e meaning. The feelings and emotions of the speaker are so raffled that he resorts in his speech to intensifying the -uantitati!e or the -ualitati!e aspect of the mentioned object. R.g.5 In his famous poem 6To His +oy Bistress0 "ndrew Bar!ell writes about lo!e5 6By !egetable lo!e should grow faster than empires0. Hyperbole is one of the most common e$pressi!e means of our e!eryday speech. Ghen we describe our admiration or anger and say 6I would gladly see this film a hundred times0, or 6I ha!e told it to you a thousand times0 == we use trite language hyperboles which, through long and repeated use, ha!e lost their originality and remained signals of the speaker0s roused emotions. Hyperbole may be the final effect of another /3 == metaphor, simile, irony, as we ha!e in the cases 6He has the tread of a rhinoceros0 or 6The man was like the 2ock of Gibraltar0. Hyperbole can be e$pressed by all notional parts of speech. There are words though, which are used in this /3 more often than others. They are such pronouns as 6all0, 6e!ery0, 6e!erybody0 and the like. +f.5 6+alpurnia was all angles and bones0 (H. 1.H also numerical nouns (6a million0, 6a thousand0, as was shown abo!eH and ad!erbs of time (6e!er0, 6ne!er0. The outstanding 2ussian philologist ". #eshko!sky once stressed the importance of both communicants clearly percei!ing that the e$aggeration, used by one of them is intended as such and ser!es not to denote actual -uality or -uantity but signals the emotional background of the utterance. If this reciprocal understanding of the intentional nature of the o!erstatement is absent, hyperbole turns into a mere lie, he said. Hyperbole is aimed at e$aggerating -uantity or -uality. Ghen it is directed the opposite way, when the size, shape, dimensions, characteristic features of the object are hot o!errated, but intentionally underrated, we deal with understatement. The mechanism of its creation and functioning is identical with that of hyperbole, and it does not signify the actual state of affairs in reality, but presents the latter through the emotionally coloured perception and rendering of the speaker. It is not the actual diminishing or growing of the object that is con!eyed by a hyperbole or understatement. It is a transient subjecti!e impression that finds its realization in these /3s. They differ only in the direction of the flow of roused emotions. Rnglish is well known for its preference for understatement in e!eryday speech ( 6I am rather annoyed0 instead of 6I0m infuriated0, 6The wind is rather strong0 instead of 6There0s a gale blowing outside0 are typical of *ritish polite speech, but are less characteristic of "merican Rnglish. /ome hyperboles and understatements (both used indi!idually and as the final effect of some other /3 ha!e become fi$ed, as we ha!e in 6/now Ghite0, or 61iliput0 or 6Gargantua0. Trite hyperboles and understatements, reflecting their use in e!eryday speech, in creati!e writing are obser!ed mainly in dialogue, while the author0s speech pro!ides us with e$amples of original /3s, often rather e$tended or demanding a considerable fragment of the te$t to be fully understood. ?(ymoron is a stylistic de!ice the syntactic and semantic structures of which come to clashes. In /hakespearian definitions of lo!e, much -uoted from his Romeo and ;uliet, perfectly correct syntactically, attributi!e combinations present a strong semantic discrepancy between their members, for e$ample, 67 brawling lo!ee ~ lo!ing hatee ~ hea!y lightnesse /erious !anitye ?eather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick healthe0 "s is clearly seen from this string of o$ymorons, each one of them is a combination of two semantically contradictory notions that help to emphasize contradictory -ualities simultaneously e$isting in the described phenomenon as a dialectical unity. "s a rule, one of the two members of o$ymoron illuminates the feature which is uni!ersally obser!ed and acknowledged while the other one offers a purely subjecti!e, indi!idual perception of the object. Thus in an o$ymoron we also deal with the foregrounding of emoti!e meaning, only of a different type than the one obser!ed in pre!iously discussed /3s. The most widely known structure of o$ymoron is attributive, so it is easy to belie!e that the subjecti!e part of the o$ymoron is embodied in the attribute=epithet, especially because the latter also proceeds from the foregrounding of the emoti!e meaning. *ut there are also others, in which !erbs are employed. /uch !erbal structures as 6to shout mutely0 or 6to cry silently0 seem to strengthen the idea, which leads to the conclusion that o$ymoron is a specific type of epithet. *ut the peculiarity of an o$ymoron lies in the fact that the speaker0s (writer0s subjecti!e !iew can be e$pressed through either of the members of the word combination. 7riginality and specificity of o$ymoron becomes especially e!ident in non=attributi!e structures which also, not infre-uently, are used to e$press semantic contradiction, as in 6the stree0 damaged by impro!ements0 or 6silence was louder than thunder0. ?(ymorons rarely become trite, for their components, linked forcibly, repulse each other and oppose repeated use. There are few collo-uial o$ymorons, all of them showing a high degree of the speakerus emotional in!ol!ement in the situation, as in 6damn nice0, 6awfully pretty0. "fter you had learnt indi!idual le$ical stylistic de!ices and the linguistic mechanism which operates in each of them, we may pass on to the general stylistic analysis on the le$ical le!el. ]our main task is to indicate how and through what le$ical means additional logical, emoti!e, e$pressi!e information is created. In many cases you will see a number of le$ical units used in con!ergence to still more enhance the e$pressi!eness and emphasis of the utterance. The Le3ic'l Thes')&)s #+ the P#etic Te3t (The poem of H. *elloc ,Tarantella. The author0s indi!idual perception of the reality in the poetic te$t is a reflection of subjecti!e features of the language person of its creator. The poetic te$t is always anthropocentric, representing a reality through a prism of the aesthetic perception by the author. The description of the author0s indi!idual perception of the reality can be carried out with the help of the conceptual analysis re!ealing base concepts of the poetic te$t, components of which comprise its conceptosphere. The aspects of conceptualisation are stipulated by both objecti!e laws of the world, and the author0s personal position, his ratio of a reality. The aspects of conceptualisation help to e$plain the field frame of conceptosphere, depending upon the ways of the language representation of the concept. "ccording to R. /. Fubryako!a, ,a concept is a mental essence first of all, and it is studied in connection with the processes of speaking and comprehension as the processes of interaction of the mental subjects. (Fubryako!a, 8@@'. The conceptual analysis of the poetic te$t consists in re!ealing a set of key words of the te$tH presenting a description of conceptual space, designated by them finally defining basic concepts of this space. The le$ical thesaurus of the poetic te$t includes the le$icon on the basis of semantic and subject similarity of subject or semantic groups and classes of a word, which are the semantic and subject denotations of spiritual !alues. This selection of subject groups of words is done using the ideographic method or the method of poetic ideography. The thesaurus dictionary is a means of the description of a poetic perception of the reality on the basis of one poetic te$t, re!ealing its concept sphere with the help of the deep linguistic analysis. The thesaurus dictionary of a poem is a le$ical and semantic system of the gi!en te$t, and its structural components are the subject groups ha!ing conceptual centres, which are semantic capacitors designating cultural and spiritual !alues. To analyze a poetic te$t I. A. "rnold offers to use a techni-ue of decoding stylistics including the theory of semantic field of a word, componential analysis and, the so=called, subject mapping. Thus, stylistic interpretation of the te$t presupposes the analysis of le$ico= semantic !ariants of a word, its connotations and associations, paying special attention to common features and occasional meanings, comprising le$ical mapping. 1e$ical mapping is understood as the relations of synonymy, antonomy, morphological and semantic deri!ation or figurati!e uses of the gi!en word. In general, they are any relations, based on interaction of general and its parts, generic and aspect relations, interrelation of different components of connotation. The le$ical mapping re!eals common components in the semantic structure of the word. "s an e$ample of such analysis we shall take a poem ,Tarantella., written by the Rnglish poet of the )4th century Hilaire *elloc. The denotati!e space of the te$t is represented by the group of words, united by the proper name .iranda, to which the poet accesses during all poem, in!oking her to recall the happy period of their stay in a small hotel in the #yranees. The reminiscences are actualized with the help of associati!e links between !arious subject groups (further /G around this semantic centre. They are5 &C of everyday routine of young lo!ers == bedding, tedding, spreading, a straw for a bedding, fleas that tease, wine, tasting of tar. S0 o youth and un of the poor inhabitants of this hotel5 cheers and 4eers of the young muleteers, who hadn’t got a penny, not paying any. It is a S0 o $usic and dances semantically relating to the pre!ious group5 girls dancing, backing and advancingF chancing, clapping, snappingF twirl and swirl of handF out and in. The nostalgic reminiscences are emphasized with the help of parallel constructions, framing the first part5 Do you remember the inn, .irandaJ Do you remember the 8nnJ "naphoric repetitions and polysyndeton and structurally unite the conceptual field of youth, happiness, joy, merriment, music and a dance of tarantella. The sound atmosphere of happiness is actualized with the help of onomatopoeia, imitating the sounds of music and dancing with its gradually accelerating tempo5 "ip, "op, "apF Ting, Tong, Tang of the guitar. The #articiples dancing, chancing, advancing underline a circle chain of mo!ements of the dance with the help of morphemic repetition = ing in the, !erbs of mo!ement, using alliteration and assonance to portray the !igorous replicating sounds of the dance5 (tw, sw, sn,cl,p,etc.. The usage of antithesis5 out and in adds to the image of the dance thus symbolically representing youth, happiness and merriment. The whole colourful sound and graphic palette of youth and happiness of life is suddenly interrupted in the second part of the poem by a sudden change of the rhythmic paradigm, which is introduced by the repeated ad!erbs5 @ever more, .iranda* @ever more. They contribute to the somber and sinister tonality, intensified by the alliteration of sonorous sounds (m, n. The long sound ho5i, which pre!ails in this part together with long sound hu5i5 "oar, door, boom, doom make the whole atmosphere e!en more gloomy. The con!ergence of alliterated sound combinations htr, trd, grd, sd,dd, l-i in words5 "alls, tread, ground, sound, dead also emphasize the general atmosphere of gloomy loneliness, silence and desolation, intensified by the echoing sounds. The subject groups also change the tonality5 the S0 of the deserted nature o $ountain tops5 high peaks hoar, no sound, walls of the "allsH the S0 o the alling #ater5 torrent falls, Aragon at the door, boom of the !aterfallH S0 o gloo$y hopelessness, appro(imation of deathA the tread of the feet of the dead to the ground. The conceptual ield o loneliness, desolation, approaching death is portrayed on the le$ical le!el by stylistic comparison (simile, on the graphic le!el by capitalization5 !aterfall like Doom. The heavy tread of Death is portrayed metaphorically5 the tread of the feet of the death to the ground, with the help of parallelism, anaphora and negati!e ad!erbs. Thus, in a small microte$t of a poem the poet0s !ision of the reality is re!ealed being founded on antithesis of youth, pleasure and happiness symbolizing life and opposed to loneliness, desolation, silent grandeur of a mountain landscape associated with eternity, appro$imation of mors. The life appears as bright and happy reminiscence of happy days of youth and lo!e of the man feeling ine!itability of mors. "ll the language resources are subordinate to the author0s idea and portrayed through con!ergence of stylistic resources in their interrelation and interaction, united by the key concept of 1ife and 3eath antithesis. Thus, it is possible to speak about conceptual integration that is junction of two or more concepts, representing !arious semantic groups united by the law of the language economy. The le$ical thesaurus of the gi!en poetic te$t in!ol!es the comple$ of general and specific relations between the concepts of 1ife, ]outh and Happiness portrayed through the microconcepts of dance, music, sounds of a guitar, as philosophical antithesis to /ilence of Rternity and ine!itability of Bors. Chapter No LEVELS OF ANALYSIS SYNTACTICAL LEVEL FOCUS ON • Main Characteristics o the Sentence • Syntactical S)s • Sentence Length • Types o Connection • Le;icoDSyntactical Stylistic )e&ices /tylistic study of the synta$ begins with the study of the length and the structure of a sentence. It appears the length of any language unit is a !ery important factor in information e$change, for the human brain can recei!e and transmit information only if the latter is punctuated by pauses. Theoretically speaking a sentence can be of any length, as there are no linguistic limitations for its growth, so e!en monstrous constructions of se!eral hundred words each, technically should be !iewed as sentences. Indeed, psychologically, no reader is prepared to percei!e as a syntactical all those sentences in which the punctuation mark of a full stop comes after the 8)'th word (Ioyce +arol 7ates. '(pensive 0eople, or 8)&th word (R. Hemingway. The &hort "appy Life of /rancis .acomber, or )K:th word (T. #ynchon. The +rying of Lot RS, or :%8st word (<. Bailer. !hy Are !e in %ietnamJ, or e!en after 'K whole pages of the te$t (I. Ioyce. Mlysses. Qnable to specify the upper limit of sentence length we definitely know its lower mark to be one word. 7ne=word sentences possess a !ery strong emphatic impact, for their only word obtains both the word=and the sentence=stress. The word constituting a sentence also obtains its own sentence=intonation which, too, helps to foreground the content, for e$ample, 6They could keep the Binden /treet /hop going until they got the notice to -uitH which mightn0t be for two years. 7r they could wait and see what kind of alternati!e premises were offered. If the site was good. If. 7r. "nd, -uite ine!itably, borrowing money0. "s you see, e!en syn=semantic conjunctions, recei!ing the status of sentences are noticeably promoted in their semantic and e$pressi!e !alue. "brupt changes from short sentences to long ones and then back again, create a !ery strong effect of tension and suspense for they ser!e to arrange a ner!ous, une!en, ragged rhythm of the utterance. There is no direct or immediate correlation between the length and the structure of a sentence5 short sentences may be structurally complicated, while the long ones, on the contrary, may ha!e only one subject=predicate pair, for e$ample, 6Through the windows of the drag=store Righth street looked e$tremely animated with families trooping toward the center of the town, flags aslant in children0s hands, mother and pa in holiday attire and sweating freely, with patriarchal automobiles of neighbouring farmers full of starched youngsters and draped with bunting0. (I.2. "lmost K4 words of this sentence cluster around one subject=predicate centre 6Righth street looked animated0. "t the same time !ery short sentences may boast of two and more clauses i.e. may be comple$, as we obser!e in the following cases5 6He promised he0d come if the cops lea!e0. (I.*. 6Their father who was the poorest man in town kept turning to the same jokes when he was treated to a beer or two0. (". /. /till, most often, bigger lengths go together with comple$ structures. <ot only the clarity and understandability of the sentence but also its e$pressi!eness depend on the position of clauses, constituting it. /o, if a sentence opens with the main clause, which is followed by dependent units, such a structure is called loose, is less emphatic and is highly characteristic of informal writing and conversation. 0eriodic sentences, on the contrary, open with subordinate clauses, absolute and participial constructions, the main clause being withheld until the end. /uch structures are known for their emphasis and are used mainly in creati!e prose. /imilar structuring of the beginning of the sentence and its end produces balanced sentences known for stressing the logic and reasoning of the content and thus preferred in publicist writing. " word lea!ing the dictionary to become a member of the sentence normally loses its polysemy and actualizes only one of its meanings in the conte$t. The same is true about the syntactical !alency5 a member of the sentence fulfils one syntactical function. There are cases, though, when syntactical ambi!alence is preser!ed by certain members of a sentence which fact creates semantic ambiguity for it allows at least two different readings of the sentence. In the now famous -uotation from <. +homsky 6The shooting of the hunters...0 the second part may be regarded both as an attribute (6whose shooting0 9 who was shooting and as •n object (6whose shooting0 9 who was shot. "nother sentence, composed by ]u "presyan to pro!e the effecti!eness of transformational procedures, shows a much bigger syntactical ambi!alence, for practically each of its members can be !iewed as playing more than one syntactical role, which brings the total number of possible readings of the sentence to %) semantic !ariants. /ometimes syntactical ambi!alence, like the play on words on the le$ical le!el, is intentional and is used to achie!e a humorous effect, for e$ample, 63o you e$pect me to sleep with you in the roomJ0 (*./h. 3epending on the function of 6with you0 the sentence may be read 6to sleep with youe in the room0 (and not in the field, or in the garden or 6to sleep with you in the room0 (and not alone, or with my mother. The solution lies with the reader and is e$plicated in oral communication by the corresponding pausation and intonation. To con!ey them in the written form of speech order of words and punctuation are used. The possibilities of intonation are much richer than those of punctuation. Indeed, intonation alone may create, add, change and re!erse both the logical and the emotional information of an utterance. 0unctuation is much poorer and it is used not alone, but emphasizing and substantiating the le$ical and syntactical meanings of sentence= components. 0oints of e(clamation and of interrogation, dots and dashes help to specify the meaning of the written sentence which in oral speech would be con!eyed by the intonation. It is not only the emphatic types of punctuation listed abo!e that may ser!e as an additional source of information, but also more con!entional commas, semicolons and full stops. R.g.5 6Ghat0s your nameJ0 6Iohn 1ewis0. 6Bine0s 1iza. Gatkin0. (F.F. The full stop between the name and the surname shows there was a pause between them and the surname came as a response to the reaction (surprise, amusement, roused interest of Iohn 1ewis at such an informal self=introduction. 0unctuation also specifies the communicati!e type of the sentence. /o, as you well know, a point of interrogation marks a -uestion and a full stop signals a statement. There are cases though when a statement is crowned with a -uestion mark. 7ften this punctuation= change is combined with the change of word=order, the latter following the pattern of -uestion. This peculiar interrogati!e construction which semantically remains a statement is called a rhetorical uestion. Qnlike an ordinary -uestion, the rhetorical -uestion does not demand any information but ser!es to e$press the emotions of the speaker and also to call the attention of listeners. 2hetorical -uestions make an indispensable part of oratoric speech for they !ery successfully emphasize the orator0s ideas. In fact the speaker knows the answer himself and gi!es it immediately after the -uestion is asked. The interrogati!e intonation and L or punctuation draw the attention of listeners (readers to the focus of the utterance. 2hetorical -uestions are also often asked in 6unanswerable0 cases, as when in distress or anger we resort to phrases like 6Ghat ha!e I done to deser!e...0 or 6Ghat shall I do when...0. The artificiality of -uestion=form of such constructions is further stressed by e$clamation marks which, alongside points of interrogation, end rhetorical -uestions. The effect of the majority of syntactical stylistic de!ices depends on either the completeness of the structure or on the arrangement of its members. The order in which words (clauses follow each other is of e$treme importance not only for the logical coherence of the sentence but also for its connotational meanings. The following sprawling rambling sentence from R. Gaugh0s no!el %ile )odies, with clauses heaping one o!er another, testifies to the carelessness, talkati!eness and emotionality of the speaker5 6Gell, Tony rang up Bichael and told him that I0d said that Gilliam, thought Bichael had written the re!iew because of the re!iews I had written of Bichael0s book last <o!ember, though, as a matter of fact, it was Tony himself who wrote it0. (R.G. 7ne of the most prominent places among the /3s dealing with the arrangement of members of the sentence decidedly belongs to repetition. 6Ge ha!e already seen the repetition of a phoneme (as in alliteration, of a morpheme (as in rhyming, or plain morphemic repetition. "s a syntactical /3 repetition is recurrence of the same word, word combination, phrase for two and more times. "ccording to the place which the repeated unit occupies in a sentence (utterance, repetition is classified into se!eral types5 • Anaphora5 the beginning of two or more successi!e sentences (clauses is repeated == a..., a..., a... . The main stylistic function of anaphora is hot so much to emphasize the repeated unit as to create the background te$tile nonrepeated unit, which, through its no!elty, becomes foregrounded. The background=forming function of anaphora is also e!ident from the kind of words which are repeated anaphorically. 7ne should pay attention to their semantics and syntactical function in the sentence. • 'piphora5 the end of successi!e sentences (clauses is repeated ==...a, ...a, ...a. The main function of epiphora is to add stress to the final words of the sentence. • /raming5 the beginning of the sentence is repeated in the end, thus forming the 6frame0 for the non=repeated part of the sentence (utterance == a... a. The function of framing is to elucidate the notion mentioned in the beginning of the sentence. *etween two appearances of the repeated unit there comes the de!eloping middle part of the sentence which e$plains and clarifies what was introduced in the beginning, so that by the time it is used for the second time its semantics is concretized and specified. • +atch repetition (anadiplosis. The end of one clause (sentence is repeated in the beginning of the following one ==...a, a.... /pecification of the semantics occurs here too, but on a more modest le!el. • +hain repetition presents se!eral successi!e anadiploses ==...a, a...b, b...c, c. The effect is that of the smoothly de!eloping logical reasoning. • ?rdinary repetition has no definite place in the sentence and the repeated unit occurs in !arious positions == ...a, ...a..., a.. . 7rdinary repetition emphasizes both the logical and the emotional meanings of the reiterated word (phrase. • &uccessive repetition is a string of closely following each other reiterated units == ...a, a, a... This is the most emphatic type of repetition which signifies the peak of emotions of the speaker. "s you must ha!e seen from the brief description, repetition is a powerful means of emphasis. *esides, repetition adds rhythm and balance to the utterance. The latter function is the major one in parallel constructions which may be !iewed as a purely syntactical type of repetition for here we deal with the reiteration of the structure of se!eral successi!e sentences (clauses, and not of their le$ical 6flesh0. True enough, parallel constructions almost always include some type of le$ical repetition too, and such a con!ergence produces a !ery strong effect, foregrounding at one go logical, rhythmic, emoti!e and e$pressi!e aspects of the utterance. Reversed parallelism is called chiasmus. The second part of a chiasmus is, in fact, in!ersion of the first construction. Thus, if the first sentence (clause has a direct word order == /#7, the second one will ha!e it in!erted == 7#/. 8nversion which was briefly mentioned in the definition of chiasmus is !ery often used as an independent /3 in which the direct word order is changed either completely so that the predicate (predicati!e precedes the subjectH or partially so that the object precedes the subject=predicate pair. +orrespondingly, we differentiate between partial and a complete in!ersion. The stylistic de!ice of in!ersion should not be confused with grammatical inversion which is a norm in interrogati!e constructions. /tylistic in!ersion deals with the rearrangement of the normati!e word order. Xuestions may also be rearranged5 6]our mother is at homeJ0 asks one of the characters of I. *aldwin0s no!el. The in!erted -uestion presupposes the answer with more certainty than the normati!e one. It is the assuredness of the speaker of the positi!e answer that constitutes additional information which is brought into the -uestion by the in!erted word order. Interrogati!e constructions with the direct word order may be !iewed as cases of two=step (double in!ersion5 direct wLo ==€ grammatical in!ersion ==€ direct wLo. /till another /3 dealing with the arrangement of members of the sentence is suspense == a deliberate postponement of the completion of the sentence. The term 6suspense0 is also used in literary criticism to denote an e$pectant uncertainty about the outcome of the plot. To hold the reader in suspense means to keep the final solution just out of sight. 3etecti!e and ad!enture stories are e$amples of suspense fiction. The theme, that which is known, and the rheme, that which is new, of the sentence are distanced from each other and the new information is withheld, creating the tension of e$pectation. Technically, suspense is organized with the help of embedded clauses (homogeneous members separating the predicate from the subject and introducing less important facts and details first, while the e$pected information of major importance is reser!ed till the end of the sentence (utterance. " specific arrangement of sentence members is obser!ed in detachment, a stylistic de!ice based on singling out a secondary member of the sentence with the help of punctuation (intonation. The word=order here is not !iolated, but secondary members obtain their own stress and intonation because they are detached from the rest of the sentence by commas, dashes or e!en a full stop as in the following cases5 6He had been nearly killed, ingloriously, in a jeep accident0. (I./h. 6I ha!e to beg you for money daily0. (/.1. *oth 6ingloriously0 and 6daily0 remain ad!erbial modifiers, occupy their proper normati!e places, following the modified !erbs, but = due to detachment and the ensuing additional pause and stress == are foregrounded into the focus of the reader0s attention. The second, somewhat smaller, group of syntactical /3s deals not so much with specificities of the arrangement as with the completeness of sentence=structure. The most prominent place here belongs to ellipsis, or deliberate omission of at least one member of the sentence, as in the famous -uotation from Bacbeth5 !hat: all my pretty chickens and their dam BB at one fell swoopJ In contemporary prose ellipsis is mainly used in dialogue where it is consciously employed by the author to reflect the natural omissions characterizing oral collo-uial speech. 7ften ellipsis is met close to dialogue, in author0s introductory remarks commenting the speech of the characters. Rlliptical remarks in prose resemble stage directions in drama. *oth sa!e only the most !ital information letting out those bits of it which can be easily reassembled from the situation. It is the situational nature of our e!eryday speech which hea!ily relies on both speakers0 awareness of the conditions and details of the communication act that promotes normati!e collo-uial omissions. Imitation of these oral collo-uial norms is created by the author through ellipsis, with the main function of achie!ing the authenticity and plausibility of fictitious dialogue. Rllipsis is the basis of the so=called telegraphic style, in which connecti!es and redundant words are left out. In the early twenties *ritish railways had an inscription o!er luggage racks in the carriages5 6The use of this rack for hea!y and bulky packages in!ol!es risk of injury to passengers and is prohibited0. ?orty years later it was reduced to the elliptical5 6?or light articles only0. The same progress from full completed messages to clipped phrases was made in dri!ers0 directions5 6#lease dri!e slowly0, 63ri!e slowly0, 6/low0, etc. The biggest contributors to the telegraphic style are one=member sentences, i.e. sentences consisting only of a nominal group, which is semantically and communicati!ely self=sufficient. Isolated !erbs, proceeding from the ontological features of a !erb as a part of speech, cannot be considered one=member sentences as they always rely on the conte$t for their semantic fulfilment and are thus hea!ily ellipticized sentences. In creati!e prose one= member sentences are mostly used in descriptions (of nature, interior, appearance, etc., where they produce the effect of a detailed but laconic picture foregrounding its main componentsH and as the background of dialogue, mentioning the emotions, attitudes, moods of the speakers. In apokoinu constructions the omission of the pronominal (ad!erbial connecti!e creates a blend of the main and the subordinate clauses so that the predicati!e or the object of the first one is simultaneously used as the subject of the second one, for e$ample, 6There was a door led into the kitchen0. (/h. ". 6He was the man killed that deer0. (2. G. The double syntactical function played by one word produces the general impression of clumsiness of speech and is used as a means of speech characteristics in dialogue, in reported speech and the type of narrati!e known as 6entrusted0 in which the author entrusts the telling of the story to an imaginary narrator who is either an obser!er or participant of the described e!ents. The last /3 which promotes the incompleteness of sentence structure is break (aposiopesis. *reak is also used mainly in the, dialogue or in other forms of narrati!e imitating spontaneous oral speech. It reflects the emotional orLand the psychological state of the speaker5 a sentence may be broken because the speaker0s emotions pre!ent him from finishing it. "nother cause of the break is the desire to cut short the information with which the sentence began. In such cases there are usually special remarks by the author, indicating the intentional abruptness of the end. In many cases break is the result of the speaker0s uncertainty as to what e$actly he is to promise (to threaten, to beg. To mark the break, dashes and dots are used. It is only in cast<iron structures that full stops may also appear, as in the well=known phrases 6Good intentions, but0 or 6It depends. The arrangement of sentence members and the completeness of sentence structure necessarily in!ol!e !arious types of connection used within the sentence or between sentences. 2epeated use of conjunctions is called polysyndetonH deliberate omission of them is, correspondingly, named asyndeton. *oth polysyndeton and asyndeton ha!e a strong rhythmic impact. *esides, the function of polysyndeton is to strengthen the idea of e-ual logical (emoti!e importance of connected sentences, while asyndeton, cutting off connecting words, helps to create the effect of terse, energetic, acti!e prose. These two types of connection are more characteristic of the author0s speech. The third type == attachment (gap=sentence, leaning sentence, link on the contrary, is mainly to be found in !arious representations of the !oice of the personage == dialogue, reported speech, entrusted narrati!e. In the attachment the second part of the utterance is separated from the first one by a full stop though their semantic and grammatical ties remain !ery strong. The second part appears as an afterthought and is often connected with the beginning of the utterance with the help of a conjunction, which brings the latter into the foregrounded opening position. +f5 6It wasn0t his fault. It was yours. "nd mine. I now humbly beg you to gi!e me the money with which to buy meals for you to eat. "nd hereafter do remember it5 the ne$t time I shanut beg. I shall simply star!e0. (/.1.H 6#rison is where she belongs. "nd my husband agrees one thousand per cent0. (T.+. Le3ic#DS(nt'ctic'l St(listic De"ices Antithesis +lima(, Anticlima(, &imile, Litotes, 0eriphrasis /yntactical stylistic de!ices add logical, emoti!e, e$pressi!e information to the utterance regardless of le$ical meanings of sentence components. There are certain structures though, whose emphasis depends not only on the arrangement of sentence members but also on the le$ico=semantic aspect of the utterance. They are known as le$ico= syntactical /3s. Antithesis is a good e$ample of them5 syntactically, antithesis is just another case of parallel constructions. *ut unlike parallelism, which is indifferent to the semantics of its components, the two parts of an antithesis must be semantically opposite to each other, as in the sad ma$im of 7. Gilde5 6/ome people ha!e much to li!e on, and little to li!e for0, where 6much0 and 6little0 present a pair of antonyms, supported by the conte(tual opposition of postpositions 6on0 and 6for0. "nother e$ample5 6If we don0t know who gains by his death we do know who loses by it0. Here, too, we ha!e the leading antonymous pair 6gain ( lose0 and the supporting one, made stronger by the emphatic form of the affirmati!e construction =( 6don0t know L do know0. "ntithesis as a semantic opposition emphasized by its realization in similar structures, is often obser!ed on lower le!els of language hierarchy, especially on the morphemic le!el where two antonymous affi$es create a powerful effect of contrast5 6Their pre=money wi!es did not go together with their post=money daughters0. The main function of antithesis is to stress the heterogeneity of the described phenomenon, to show that the latter is a dialectical unity of two (or more opposing features. "nother type of semantically complicated parallelism is presented by clima$, in which each ne$t word combination (clause, sentence is logically more important or emotionally stronger and more e$plicit5 6*etter to borrow, better to beg, better to diee0 6I am firm, thou are obstinate, he is pig=headed0. (*.+h. If to create antithesis we use antonyms (or their conte$tual e-ui!alents, in clima$ we deal with strings of synonyms or at least semantically related words belonging to the same thematic group. The negati!e form of the structures participating in the formation of clima( re!erses the order in which clima(=components are used, as in the following e$amples5 6<o tree, no shrub, no blade of grass that was not owned0. It is the absence of substance or -uality that is being emphasized by the negati!e form of the clima$, this is why relati!e synonyms are arranged not in the ascending but in the descending order as to the e$pressed -uality or -uantity, for e$ample, 6*e careful0, said Br. Iingle. 6<ot a look0. 6<ot a wink0, said Br. Tupman. 6<ot a syllable. <ot a whisper0. #roceeding from the nature of the emphasized phenomenon it is possible to speak of logical, emoti!e or -uantitati!e types of clima(. The most widely spread model of clima$ is a three=step construction, in which intensification of logical importance, of emotion or -uantity (size, dimensions is gradually rising step by step. In emoti!e clima$ though, we rather often meet a two=step structure, in which the second part repeats the first one and is further strengthened by an intensifier, as in the following instances5 6He was so helpless, so !ery helpless0. 6/he felt better, immensely better0. 6I ha!e been so unhappy here, so !ery !ery unhappy0. +lima$ suddenly interrupted by an une$pected turn of the thought which defeats e$pectations of the reader (listener and ends in complete semantic re!ersal of the emphasized idea, is called anticlima(* To stress the abruptness of the change emphatic punctuation (dash, most often is used between the ascending and the descending parts of the anticlima$. Xuite a few parado$es are closely connected with anticlima$. " structure of three components is presented in a stylistic de!ice e$tremely popular at all times == simile. &imile is an imaginati!e comparison of two unlike objects belonging to two different classes. The one which is compared is called the tenor, the one with which it is compared, is called the vehicle. The tenor and the !ehicle form the two semantic poles of the simile, which are connected by one of the following link words 6like0, 6as0, 6as though0, 6as like0, 6such as0, 6as...as0, etc. /imile should not be confused with simple (logical, ordinary comparison. /tructurally identical, consisting of the tenor, the !ehicle and the uniting formal element, they are semantically different5 objects belonging to the same class are likened in a simple comparison, while in a simile we deal with the likening of objects belonging to two different classes. /o, 6/he is like her mother0 is a simple comparison, used to state an e!ident fact. 6/he is like a rose0 is a simile used for purposes of e$pressi!e e!aluation, emoti!e e$planation, highly indi!idual description. The tenor and the !ehicle may be e$pressed in a brief 6nucleus0 manner, as in the abo!e e$ample, or may be e$tended. This last case of sustained e$pression of likeness is known as epic, or Homeric simile. If you remember, in a metaphor two unlike objects (actions, phenomena were identified on the grounds of possessing one common characteristic. In a simile two objects are compared on the grounds of similarity of some -uality. This feature which is called foundation of a simile may be e$plicitly mentioned as in5 6He stood immo!able like a rock in a torrent0, or 6His muscles are hard as rock0. ]ou see that the 6rock0 which is the !ehicle of two different similes offers two different -ualities as their foundation (= 6immo!able0 in the first case, and 6hard0 in the second. Ghen the foundation is not e$plicitly named, the simile is considered to be richer in possible associations, because the fact that a phenomenon can be -ualified in multiple and !arying ways allows attaching at least some of many -ualities to the object of comparison. /o 6the rose0 of the pre!ious case allows to simultaneously foregrounding such features as 6fresh, beautiful, fragrant, attracti!e0, etc. /ometimes the foundation of the simile is not -uite clear from the conte$t, and the author supplies it with a key, where he e$plains which similarities led him to liken two different entities, and which in fact is an e$tended and detailed foundation, for e$ample, 6The con!ersations she began beha!ed like green logs5 they fumed but would not fire0. " simile, often repeated, becomes trite and adds to the stock of language phraseology. Bost of trite similes ha!e the foundation mentioned and conjunctions 6as0, 6as...as0 used as connecti!es. +f.5 6as brisk as a bee0, 6as strong as a horse0, 6as li!e as a bird0 and many many more. /imiles in which the link between the tenor and the vehicle is e$pressed by notional !erbs such as 6to resemble0, 6to seem0, 6to recollect0, 6to remember0, 6to look like0, 6to appear0, etc. are called disguised, because the realization of the comparison is somewhat suspended, as the likeness between the objects seems less e!ident, for e$ample, 6His strangely taut, full=width grin made his large teeth resemble a dazzling miniature piano keyboard in the green light0. 7r 6The ball appeared to the batter to be a slow spinning planet looming toward the earth0. Litotes is a two=component structure in which two negations are joined to gi!e a positi!e e!aluation. Thus 6not unkindly0 actually means 6kindly0, though the positi!e effect is weakened and some lack of the speaker0s confidence in his statement is implied. The first component of a litotes is always the negati!e particle 6not0, while the second, always negati!e in semantics, !aries in form from a negati!ely affi$ed word (as abo!e to a negati!e phrase. Litotes is especially e$pressi!e when the semantic centre of the whole nstructure is stylistically orLand emotionally coloured, as in the case of the following occasional creations5 6Her face was not unhandsome0 or 6Her face was not unpretty0. The function of litotes has much in common with that of understatement == both weaken the effect of the utterance. The uni-ueness of litotes lies in its specific 6double negati!e0 structure and in its weakening only the positi!e e!aluation. The 2ussian term 6•‚ƒ„ƒ•0 corresponds only to the Rnglish 6understatement0 as it has no structural or semantic limitations. 0eriphrasis is a !ery peculiar stylistic de!ice which basically consists of using a roundabout form of e$pression instead of a simpler one, i.e. of using a more or less complicated syntactical structure instead of a word. 3epending on the mechanism of this substitution, periphrases are classified into figurati!e (metonymic and metaphoric and logical. The first group is made, in fact, of phrase=metonymies and phrase=metaphors, as you may well see from the following e$ample5 6The hospital was crowded with the surgically interesting products of the fighting in "frica0 where the e$tended metonymy stands for 6the wounded0. 1ogical periphrases are phrases synonymic with the words which were substituted by periphrases5 6Br. 3u #ont was dressed in the con!entional disguise with which *rooks *rothers co!er the shame of "merican millionaires0. 6The con!entional disguise0 stands here for 6the suit0 and 6the shame of "merican millionaires0 == for 6the paunch (the belly0. *ecause the direct nomination of the not too elegant feature of appearance was substituted by a roundabout description this periphrasis may be also considered euphemistic, as it offers a more polite -ualification instead of a coarser one. The main function of periphrases is to con!ey a purely indi!idual perception of the described object. To achie!e it the generally accepted nomination of the object is replaced by the description of one of its features or -ualities, which seems to the author most important for the characteristic of the object, and which thus becomes foregrounded. The often repeated periphrases become trite and ser!e as uni!ersally accepted periphrastic synonyms5 6the gentle L soft L weak se$0 (womenH 6my better half (my spouseH 6minions of 1aw0 (police, etc. Chapter No: 10 TYPES OF NARRATION FOCUS ON • Author9s Narrati&e a- )ialogue b- 'nterior Speech c- *epresented Speech d- Compositional !orms • =rammatical and Narrati&e (ersons • Traditional Analysis o Narrati&e • )e&elopments in Structural Narratology • The "b:ecti&e (oint o +iew • (oint o +iew and !ocaliFation • Le&els o Narration • )oes the Narrator 2;ist in )rama? " work of creati!e prose is ne!er homogeneous as to the form and essence of the information it carries. *oth !ery much depend on the !iewpoint of the addresser, as the author and his personages may offer different angles of perception of the same object. <aturally, it is the author who organizes this effect of polyphony, but we, the readers, while reading the te$t, identify !arious !iews with !arious personages, not attributing them directly to the writer. The latter0s !iews and emotions are most e$plicitly e$pressed in the author0s speech (or the author’s narrative. The unfolding of the plot is mainly concentrated here, personages are gi!en characteristics, and the time and the place of action are also described here, as the author sees them. The author0s narrati!e supplies the reader with direct information about the author0s preferences and objections, beliefs and contradictions, i.e. ser!es the major source of shaping up the author’s image. In contemporary prose, in an effort to make his writing more plausible, to impress the reader with the effect of authenticity of the described e!ents, the writer entrusts some fictitious character (who might also participate in the narrated e!ents with the task of story= telling. The writer himself thus hides behind the figure of the narrator, presents all the e!ents of the story from the latter0s !iewpoint and only sporadically emerges in the narrati!e with his own considerations, which may reinforce or contradict those e$pressed by the narrator. This form of the author0s speech is called entrusted narrati!e. The structure of the entrusted narrative is much more complicated than that of the author0s narrati!e proper, because instead of one commanding, organizing image of the author, we ha!e the hierarchy of the narrator0s image seemingly arranging the pros and cons of the related problem and, looming abo!e the narrator0s image, there stands the image of the author, the true and actual creator of it all, responsible for all the !iews and e!aluations of the te$t and ser!ing the major and predominant force of te$tual cohesion and unity. 'ntrusted narrative can be carried out in the 8st person singular, when the narrator proceeds with his story openly and e$plicitly, from his own name, as, e.g., in The +atcher in the Rye by I.3. /alinger, or The Creat Catsby by /c. ?itzgerald, or All the ,ing’s .en by 2. f. Garren. In the first book Holden +aulfield himself retells about the crisis in his own life which makes the focus of the no!el. In the second book <ick +arraway tells about Iay Gatsby, whom he met only occasionally, so that to tell Gatsby0s life=story he had to rely on the knowledge of other personages too. "nd in the third book Iack *urden renders the dramatic career of Gillie /tark, himself being one of the closest associates of the man. In the first case the narration has fewer de!iations from the main line, than in the other two in which the narrators ha!e to supply the reader also with the information about themsel!es and their connection with the protagonist. Rntrusted narrati!e may also be anonymous. The narrator does not openly claim responsibility for the !iews and e!aluations but the manner of presentation, the angle of description !ery strongly suggest that the story is told not by the author himself but by some of his factotums, which we see, e.g., in the prose of ?l. 70 +onnor, +. Bc+ullers, R. Hemingway, R. +aldwell. The narrati!e, both the author0s and the entrusted, is not the only type of narration obser!ed in creati!e prose. " !ery important place here is occupied by dialogue, where personages e$press their minds in the form of uttered speech. In their e$change of remarks the participants of the dialogue, while discussing other people and their actions, e$pose themsel!es too. /o dialogue is one of the most significant forms of the personage0s self= characterization, which allows the author to seemingly eliminate himself from the process. "nother form, which obtained a position of utmost significance in contemporary prose, is interior speech of the personage, which allows the author (and the readers to peep into the inner world of the character, to obser!e his ideas and !iews in the making. Interior speech is best known in the form of interior monologue, a rather lengthy piece of the te$t (half a page and o!er dealing with one major topic of the character0s thinking, offering causes for his past, present or future actions. /hort insets of interior speech present immediate mental and emotional reactions of the personage to the remark or action of other characters. The workings of our brain are not intended for communication and are, correspondingly, structured in their own uni-ue way. The imaginati!e reflection of mental processes, presented in the form of interior speech, being a part of the te$t, one of the major functions of which is communicati!e, necessarily undergoes some linguistic structuring to make it understandable to the readers. In e$treme cases, though, this desire to be understood by others is out=shadowed by the author0s effort to portray the disjointed, purely associati!e manner of thinking, which makes interior speech almost or completely incomprehensible. These cases e$ercise the so=called stream<of<consciousness techniue which is especially popular with representati!es of modernism in contemporary literature. /o the personage0s !iewpoint can be realized in the uttered (dialogue and inner (interior speech forms. *oth are introduced into the te$t by the author’s remarks containing indication of the personage (his name or the name=substitute and of the act of speaking (thinking e$pressed by such !erbs as 6to say0, 6to think0 and their numerous synonyms. To separate and indi!idualize the sphere of the personage, language means employed in the dialogue and interior speech differ from those used in the author0s narrati!e and, in their unity and combinationH they constitute the personage0s speech characteristic which is indispensable in the creation of his image in the no!el. The last == the fourth == type of narration obser!ed in artistic prose is a peculiar blend of the !iewpoints and language spheres of both the author and the character. It was first obser!ed and analysed almost a hundred years ago, with the term represented 6reported7 speech == attached to it. 2epresented speech ser!es to show either the mental reproduction of a once uttered remark, or the character0s thinking. The first case is known as represented uttered speech, the second one as represented inner speech. The latter is close to the personage0s interior speech in essence, but differs from it in form5 it is rendered in the third person singular and may ha!e the author0s -ualitati!e words, i.e. it reflects the presence of the author0s !iewpoint alongside that of the character, while interior speech belongs to the personage completely, formally too, which is materialized through the first=person pronouns and the language idiosyncrasies of the character. The four types of narration briefly described abo!e are singled out on the basis of the !iewpoint commanding the organization of each one. If it is semantics of the te$t that is taken as the foundation of the classification then we shall deal with the three narrati!e compositional forms traditionally singled out in poetics and stylistics. They are5 narrative proper where the unfolding of the plot is concentrated. This is the most dynamic compositional form of the te$t. Two other forms == description and argumentation == are static. The former supplies the details of the appearance of people and things 6populating0 the book, of the place and time of action, the latter offers causes and effects of the personage0s beha!iour, his (or the author0s considerations about moral, ethical, ideological and other issues. It is rather seldom that any of these compositional forms is used in a 6pure0, uninterrupted way. "s a rule they intermingle e!en within the boundaries of a paragraph. "ll the compositional forms can be found in each of the types of narration but with strongly !arying fre-uencies. G&'mm'tic'l 'nd N'&&'ti"e Pe&s#ns The lack of correspondence between grammatical and narrative persons may result in the third<person narrator using the first person pronoun to refer to itself, and (less fre-uently the first<person narrator using the third person pronoun to refer to himself or herself. The use of the first<person pronoun by the third<person narrator is in fact -uite commonH in this regard, we may mention here that the complete suppression of the narratorial use of 6I0 is called figural narration by /tanzel (cited by Bartin, 8@&:5 8%%. 3ue to the lack of correspondence between narrative and pronominal persons, the second<person narrator is not fre-uently found, especially when one looks at prose narrati!es. The use of the second person pronoun by the narrator to refer to the other person who is (usually a hypothetical character in the story, does not necessarily entail that we ha!e a second person narrative. It may still be defined in terms of first<person and third< person narrati!es, as the -uestion is really whether the narrator is within or outside the world of the story. "rguably howe!er, some interacti!e narrati!es, where readers or players are in!ol!ed in the world of the narrati!e while still not actually belonging to it, such as in some interacti!e electronic fiction, can be described as second<person narratives* T&'diti#n'l An'l(sis #+ N'&&'ti"e In narrati!e theory, the person or personage who is the o!erall teller of the story is known as the narrator. The narrator should not be confused with the author. In a fictional work, the author is the real person writing the work, whereas the narrator is the fictional being or device whoLwhich tells us the story. "rguably, there is an intermediary between the narrator and the author, and this personage is the implied author, who is a fictional being whose !iews cannot be appropriately ascribed to either the narrator or the author. /o we ha!e the first three personages in!ol!ed in the production of narrati!e here5 author m implied author m narrator T#o Types o "arrator Traditionally, there are two types of narrators5 the first<person narrator (or I=narrator and the third<person narrator. The premodifying noun phrase first= and third=person here should not be confused with similar words used in relation to the pronominal system. "lthough there may be some interesting stylistic links between first<person narratives and the use of first=person pronouns, and third<person narratives and the use of third=person pronouns, a first=person narrator actually refers to a narrator who is also a character in the world of the story, whereas a third=person narrator is not a character in the story. !irst2 and Third2Person "arrators: Characteristics !irst2Person "arrator The first=person narrator can either be • a major or • minor character in the story. Third2Person "arrator 3epending on the degree that the narrati!e focuses, either physically or psychologically, on a character or characters in a story, three types of third<person narrators are traditionally distinguished5 8. A third<person narrator who does not allow the reader an access into any character0s consciousness, and who does not focus the story on any single character, but acts !ery much like a camera presenting us the scene as it actually 6is0, is called an 9ob4ective’ third<person narrator. ). A third<person narrator who gi!es us access into a single character0s consciousness or focuses attention on only one character, is known as the limited third<person narrator. %. ?inally, a third< person narrator who either gi!es us access into the consciousness of more than one character or focuses attention on more than one character, is known as an omniscient third<person narrator. Disc#)&se Sit)'ti#n #+ N'&&'ti"e The discourse situation of narrative, as is e!ident from 1eech and /hort0s discussion of the concept in chapter eight of their book, can be -uite complicated. *efore the author0s story reaches us, it must go through, or is deflected by, a few elements in the narrati!e, as illustrated on below5 Production: author m implied author m narrator m character …speaker(s† m Reception: character …listener(s† m narratee m implied reader m reader The implied author is the seeming 6author0 of the narrati!e who, howe!er, cannot be identified with the real author, as they may ha!e different beliefs and attitudes. The implied reader is the mirror image of the implied author. The implied reader is the 6reader0 addressed by the narrati!e, but whose !iews, as they are indicated by the narrati!e, may be -uite different from those of the flesh=and=blood reader. The narratee is the mirror image of the narrator. It is the personage within the te$t addressed by the narrator. "s such, it may be difficult to locate the narratee in third=person narrati!es. "rguably, the narratee is 6absent0 in some te$ts, whereas all written narrati!es ha!e narrators and can be classified in terms of one of the types of narrators mentioned abo!e. 7ne -uestion you may face is how to tell the difference between • the implied author and narrator on the one hand, and • the implied reader and the narratee on the other. The traditional classifications of the narrator abo!e do not apply to the implied author, and as such, he or she (or itJ is clearly a different personage from the narrator. The presence of the implied author is a matter of degree and the personage is not classified in terms of type, unlike the narrator The narratee howe!er, cannot be classified like the narrator. The distinction between the narratee and narrator is more in terms of • a personage who is clearly within the te$t5 the narratee, and • one who is seemingly outside the te$t5 the implied reader. De"el#$ments in St&)ct)&'l N'&&'t#l#( Propp:s 'orphology o the !ol8tale In what became an influential study in structuralist narratology, the 2ussian scholar Aladimir #ropp published in 8@)& 6morphology0 of the fairy tale (or the 6folktale0, in his terms. #ropp0s interest is principally in e$trapolating out of a corpus of 88K actual stories a kind of blueprint for the folktale as a whole. "lthough this blueprint does not constitute an analysis of any indi!idual story, its categories are designed so as to capture all of the possible elements a!ailable to any fairy story. The result of the study is a finite list of thirty= one narrati!e functions, no less, and these functions are undertaken by se!en basic types of character roles. The way #ropp sets about de!eloping his list of narrati!e functions is to isolate from his corpus the recurring components of each fairy tale. "cknowledging that the names of the particular 6dramatis personae0 may change from story to story, #ropp argues that it is the -uestion of what a tale0s characters do that is important, not so much who does it or how it is done (#ropp 8@:: h8@)&i. This orientation therefore re-uires the rendering down of narrati!es into their raw, basic constituents, producing a kind of grammar of narrati!e which is indeed indicated by the reference to 6morphology0 in the title of #ropp0s study. "ccording to #ropp, a tale usually begins with some sort of initial situation after which some or all of the thirty=one narrati!e functions follow. The first function, for e$ample, is where one of the members of a family, normally the character role of 6Hero0, absents himself from home. This 6absentation0 (sic may be precipitated by the death of parents or by some similar calamity, whereupon the Hero may go to war, to the forest or e!en, curiously, to work. The second narrati!e function in!ol!es an interdiction being addressed to the Hero, normally taking the form of a warning that danger is present and including some instruction about what not to do. ?ollowing from the interdiction is the narrati!e function5 6!iolation of the interdiction0. ?or e$ample, in the Galt 3isney cartoon *eauty and the *east, the *east warns *eauty not on any account to go into the west wing of the castle (the interdiction, whereupon *eauty, er, goes into the west wing of the castle. The fourth of #ropp0s functions sees the arri!al of the character role of 6Aillain0. The Aillain attempts to make 6reconnaissance0 on the Hero, finding out about his whereabouts or about some !ulnerability or weakness. "nd thus the pattern of the model de!elops, up to a total of thirty=one possible narrati!e plot functions. <ow, the point of #ropp0s model is not to imply that all narrati!es realise all functions. <or is it to suggest that all narrati!es, in their manifestation as discourse, follow a straightforwardly linear chronology. /uffice it to say, there are numerous stylistic de!ices which gi!e a stamp of originality to narrati!e as far as the actual telling of the story is concerned (see strands :, ; and &. Howe!er, what #ropp0s model does is to try to define a genre of narrati!e discourse, the fairy tale, through a circumscribed set of core organisational parameters. How those parameters might be applied to more contemporary narrati!es is the focus of the ne$t sub=unit. The 'orphology o Conte$porary "arrati+e Thus far, the #roppian morphology may look at first glance like a rather anti-uated analytic model, a model whose scope of reference embraces nothing more than the -uaint oral narrati!es of a then fledgling /o!iet Qnion. True, contemporary narrati!es do seem a long way off from the 2ussian folk story of the 8@)4s. Howe!er, as with any sound theoretical model, it is a central precept of the #roppian framework that it should ha!e uni!ersal rele!ance. That means that it is designed to ha!e the e$planatory power to account for folk narrati!es beyond the specific corpus used in the design of the model, and e!en for narrati!es that had not e!en come into being at the time the model was de!eloped. 1et us consider, in turn, two cases where the application of the #roppian model offers some interesting insights about narrati!e structure. *oth film narrati!es, the first is 3isney0s cartoon The Iungle *ook which is based, rather loosely it has to be said, on 2udyard Fipling0s 6Bowgli stories0. The second is +hris +olumbus0s feature film Harry #otter and the #hilosopher0s /tone which is based, more closely this time, on the first instalment of I.F.2owling0s hugely successful series of 6Harry #otter0 no!els. Ghat follows is a short e$ploration of the types and degree of coalescence that there is between the core categories of #ropp0s model and the key plot ad!ancing functions of both films. ?irst of all, to 3isney0s animated film The Iungle *ook which was released in 8@:;. 2ealising the first of #ropp0s functions, absentation, Bowgli the 6mancub0 is displaced from his parents and home and is found wandering in the jungle. Bowgli, clearly fulfilling the character role of 6Hero0, then ac-uires a Helper, a character role dually occupied by *agheera the panther and later by *aloo the bear. *oth friends warn Bowgli of the dangers of being in the jungle on his own (the 6interdiction0 function, ad!ice which of course Bowgli ignores (!iolation of the interdiction. <umerous other #roppian functions are realised thereafter. In a famous and hugely comic scene from the film, the Aillain, /here Fhan the tiger, carries out reconnaissance on the Hero by interrogating the snake, Faa. The Aillain then attempts to take possession of the Hero (the si$th of #ropp0s functions but in the course of the struggle injures *aloo, Bowgli0s protector. This second e!ent realises the eighth function of the model where the Aillain hurts a member of the Hero0s circle of family and friends. Hero and Aillain e!entually join in combat (function si$teen, and in the course of the struggle Bowgli uses fire (function twel!e, the intercession of a magical agent in order to scare off /here Fhan (function eighteen, the Aillain is !an-uished. Bowgli, ha!ing been enticed by the 6water girl0 and her song, e!entually goes back to the 6man !illage0, and so the film concludes with the realisation of function twenty, the Hero returning home, and with perhaps the suggestion that the Hero will e!entually be married or crowned (function thirty=one. +learly, not all of the thirty=one plot ad!ancing functions are present in 3isney0s cartoon, but those that are realised s-uare !ery closely indeed with the key #roppian categories. This is not to suggest that the makers of 3isney0s film worked to any kind of e$plicit blueprint of narrati!e structure ( a copy of #ropp is unlikely to ha!e been to hand in the production processe The main issue is really about what makes a good story. 3isney0s cartoon draws out, from a finite list of uni!ersalised functions, a specific selection of plot ad!ancing de!ices. Ghat is interesting is that e!en though their particular settings, 6dramatic personae0 and historical periods may change, a great many 3isney films work to the same basic plot typology. +olumbus0s film Harry #otter and the #hilosopher0s /tone ()444 is some fifty minutes longer than The Iungle *ook and is pitched at older !iewers, so its e!en fuller display of #roppian functions is perhaps no surprise. " running commentary on all realisations in the film would be rather dull, so table below shows the main connections between #ropp0s model and the narrati!e functions realised in Harry #otter. The left of the table displays a category of the model, numbered in accordance with #ropp0s own se-uence of functions, and on the right of the table is a short summary Table #ropp0s model and "arry 0otter and the 0hilosopher’s &tone #ropp0s function <arrati!e e!ent in "arry 0otter and the 0hilosopher’s &tone 8. Hero absents himself Harry #otter hHeroi has been orphaned and is forced to li!e in the home of his cruel aunt and uncle, the 3ursleys. ). Hero recei!es interdiction Harry is told by the 3ursleys not to go to Hogwart0s school of wizardry %. Interdiction is !iolated Harry goes to Hogwart0s school of wizardry :. Aillain attempts to decei!e or to take possession Qnknown to all, Aoldemort hAillaini has taken o!er the body of #rofessor Xuirrel. &. Aillain harms member of Hero0s family Harry learns that Aoldemort has killed his parents. @. This harm made known5 Hero goesL is sent on a mission Harry embarks on a mission to reco!er the philosopher0s stone. 8). Hero gets helper andL or magical agent Harry recei!es (une$pectedly a top=of=the=range broomstick, a <imbus )444. )K. 3ifficult task set for Hero Harry is charged with retrie!ing the 6golden snitch0 in a game of Xuidditch. 8'. Hero uses magical agent. Harry uses the <imbus )444 in the Xuidditch game. ):. Task is accomplished. Harry successfully retrie!es the golden snitch. 8:. Hero and Aillain join in combat Harry and Aoldemort join combat. 8;. Hero is branded Harry has ac-uired a lightning=shaped scar through an earlier encounter with Aoldemort. )&. ?alse Hero is e$posed Xuirrel e$posed as the host of Aoldemort. )@. ?alse Hero is transformed Xuirrel transformed into dust during the combat. 8&. Aillain is defeated Aoldemort is defeated. %4. Aillain is punished Aoldemort forced to lea!e the body of his dead host. 8@. Initial misfortune is set right. In the Hogwart0s school competition, Harry0s house Gryffindor is reinstated abo!e their cheating ri!als /lytherin. )4. Hero returns home Harry lea!es Hogwart0s for the summer recess. of the rele!ant plot de!elopment and character role as realised in the film. It is noticeable that certain of the narrati!e functions in the film are slightly out of kilter with the se-uence de!eloped in #ropp. ?or e$ample, Harry0s parents ha!e been killed by Aoldemort prior to the first action of the film, yet Harry only later disco!ers this and to some e$tent reli!es the episode through flashback. <onetheless, the sometime reordering and indeed repetition of the core narrati!e functions is precisely what the #roppian model seeks to accommodate, and in actual narrati!e discourse the use of flashback, pre!ision and other de!ices are markers of indi!iduality in the story (see *;. It is interesting also that in neither of the two films are all of #ropp0s thirty=one functions drawn upon, but as we ha!e seen, not all functions are needed to create a coherent narrati!e. Ghat the identification of features shows, especially in the conte$t of the Harry #otter checklist, is that many of the archetypical patterns that inform fairy stories are ali!e and well in certain genres of contemporary narrati!e. "dmittedly, both film te$ts e$amined here are magical, mythical ad!entures much in the !ein of the folktale, so the success with which the #roppian model can accommodate all narrati!e genres remains to be pro!en. <onetheless, a narrati!e genre like the Gestern, whether embodied in film or prose media, seems an ob!ious candidate for scrutiny, as might the romance, the detecti!e story or the science fiction story. If anything, the import of #ropp0s model is not to suggest that all narrati!es are the same, but rather to e$plain in part why all narrati!es are different. The focus in the ne$t unit along this thread e$plores narrati!e through another type of te$tual medium, the narrati!e of e!eryday spoken interaction. The unit below concentrates on narrati!e as discourse and assesses some of the de!elopments that ha!e taken place in the use of transiti!ity for narrati!e analysis. Fi&stDPe&s#n N'&&'t#&s% Distincti"e Fe't)&es There are some distincti!e features of first<person narrators, some of which make them different from those associated with third<person narrators. 7ne difference from the third<person narrator is the enhancement in the immediacy and in the sense of reality of the story when the first<person narrator is used. Qnlike a story told by the omniscient or limited third<person narrator, there does seem to be less opportunity for the direct interpretation by the author of the e!ents in the story in a first< person narrative. This may be !iewed either as an ad!antage or disad!antage o!er the two other types of narrati!e. 7ne ad!antage is that this does not allow the author to present hisLher ideological perspecti!e too strongly, thus pre!enting the story from being too dogmatic. The ideology presented is that of the narrator, and not directly the author0s. *ut the lack of a clear authorial !iewpoint in this type of narrati!e may make the story lose its sense of coherence or purpose. The first<person narrator may also face the problem of the character going beyond the sensiti!ity, knowledge, or the powers of language which ha!e already been ascribed to him or her by the author. " first<person narrative, when compared to the third<person narrative, is usually better for the study of blunted human percepti!ity, as the narrator does not know (or is incapable of knowing the full import of the e!ents reported, but which the reader has a better knowledge of. "s such, the first<person narrator usually !iews himself as good, or at least, as beha!ing correctly, and doing the best under the circumstances. *ut this is how the first<person narrator usually likes to picture himself or herself to be, and not what he or she actually is. The first<person narrator may be unreliable5 in fact sLhe usually is, as he or she is supposed to be a human being (and hence fallible, and not, like the third<person narrator, merely a technical de!ice. The O$niscient "arrator "n omniscient narrative is the most fle$ible of all narrati!e !iewpoints, as it has the widest scope. It is also widely used in the no!el. Howe!er, this point of !iew can destroy the illusion of reality, as no one can go from one place to another, and to read people0s minds whene!er the story demands it. The Li$ited O$niscient "arrator The limited omniscient narrator places the focus on a single character, sometimes showing more knowledge of the character than the character himself or herself. "s noted earlier, this point of !iew is commonly found in short stories, for the simple technical reason that there is not much breadth in the short story to allow the author to e$plore other consciousnesses. It was also noted that it was associated with the no!els of Henry Iames. "lthough figural narration is clearly a feature of the objecti!e third<person narration, it is also associated, to some e$tent, with the limited third<person narrator, as it generally uses the pronoun 6I0 to refer to itself less fre-uently than the omniscient third<person narrator. The O01ecti"e P#int #+ Vie! In the ob4ective point of view (or dramatic point of !iew, the narrator is like a ro!ing sound camera and reports only what is seen and heard. It cannot comment, interpret or enter the characters0 minds. The reader here is like a spectator at a mo!ie. The ob4ective point of view forces the reader to make an interpretation of the e!ents of the story, as the author does not e$plain or interpret. "s a conse-uence, the story may lack coherence and becomes as inchoate as real life itself. The ob4ective point of view is hea!ily reliant on e$ternal action and dialogue. It may ha!e the most speed and the most action when compared to the other points=of=!iew. Howe!er, one conse-uence of this is that the narrati!e may become superficial and may lack psychological depth. The idea of scene, where story time is e-ual to discourse time, is commonly associated with the objecti!e point of !iew. The objecti!e point of !iew has se!ere limitations, as no story is purely 6objecti!e0. The strife for objecti!ity may also be pointless, and may result in the story lacking in meaningfulness. This point of !iew is also difficult to sustain, and works best, if it works at all, in short stories. In this regard, it has been noted, in a response to Hemingway0s 6Hills 1ike Ghite Rlephants0, that it may be 6great for a short story or play but lousy for a no!el0. "arrati+e Reliability It has been claimed that the concept of reliability, which gi!es rise to the concept of the unreliable narrator in literary criticism, may be applicable only to the first<person narrator, and not to the third< person narrator. This is arguable. The third=person narrator of Gashington Ir!ing0s 62ip !an Ginkle0, for e$ample, is arguably unreliable. Howe!er, e!en if we disagree with this, or are not entirely sure about it, we can say that as far as the truth of obser!ation statements is concerned, the omniscient narrator is, in relati!e terms, usually more reliable than the first=person. "arrati+e Intrusi+eness The idea of the intrusi!eness or obtrusi!eness of the narrator is usually applied to the third<person narrator, unless one deals with what can be described as the e$tradiegetic first= person narrator, or with a first<person narrator with supernatural powers. Howe!er, there is a difference in the degree of intrusi!eness between the three types of third=person narrators5 the objecti!e narrator of course, is the least intrusi!e, while the omniscient narrator the most. Intrusi!eness is not always negati!e nor is it always associated with traditional narrati!es. It may make the narrati!e more coherent by linking all the narrati!e strands together, or it may ser!e a comicLironic function, especially when the narrator re!eals certain enigmatic features of a character at strategic points in a story. The intrusi!e narrator can be found, for e$ample, in many eighteenth=century no!els including the no!els of Henry ?ielding, as well as in more 6e$perimental0 no!els, such as in The /rench Lieutenant’s !oman by the twentieth=century author Iohn ?owles. In the words of Bargaret 3rabble, who uses the intrusi!e narrator herself in her no!els, 6the narrator is part of the story and can inter!ene whene!er he or she wants0. The supposed disad!antages of intrusi!eness must be measured against the problems created when the narrator fails to comment or gi!e a perspecti!e of any kind. The objecti!e narrator0s almost total lack of intrusi!eness for e$ample, must be measured against one of the weaknesses of objecti!e narration itself5 the tendency to lea!e us with no focus whatsoe!er, or with no guidelines at all on how to interpret certain e!ents. The argument for this lack of focus or interpreti!e guidelines is that a story will be more 6subtle0 without them. *ut the so=called 6subtlety0 may be dependent on cultural factors, which means that people who do not belong to the same culture are incapable of appreciating it. Suspense and Point o ,ie# /uspense may be created by the narrator0s ignorance of certain 6future0 e!ents in a story or by the narrator0s refusal to re!eal these e!ents in ad!ance, e!en when heLsheLit has prior knowledge of these e!ents. In both cases, the narrator0s inability or refusal to re!eal information prior to its occurrence in narrati!e discourse is tied to the consideration that a better story can be told by not re!ealing too much earlier. P#int #+ Vie! 'nd F#c'liF'ti#n It has been noted that the Rnglish term point of view is ambiguous (unclear. In addition to the meaning of the term in non=specialised language, it does not, in its more specialised literary usage, strictly refer only to the narrator0s perspecti!e, but also to the perspecti!e of the speaker, or teller of the story (i.e., that it includes both the elements of seeing and saying. ?or these reasons, some scholars ha!e preferred the term focalization introduced by Genette in relation to perspecti!e. ?ocalization is used instead of perspecti!e because the latter word is more associated with the !iewing of physical objects, whereas such an association is less e!ident in relation to the word focalization, which is more easily associated with the focus on non=perceptible entities (e.g. thoughts. Howe!er, this term can be criticized for the same reason5 for e$ample, the use of the term focal length in photography, which refers to the !iewing of the physical and not the psychological realm. The subject of focalization (i.e. the one who focalizes, is called the focalizer. In Genette0s terms, • character=bound focalization is called internal focalization, whereas • non=character=bound focalization is called e$ternal focalization5 "nother way to formulate this is to say • that the focalization of the first=person narrator is internal, whereas • that of the third=person narrator o may be internal (in some stretches of an omniscient or limited third person narrati!e or o e$ternal (almost in!ariably the case in an objecti!e third=person narrati!e. Table: Internal and E%ternal !ocali7ation internal focalization • first=person narrati!e • some stretches of omniscient and limited omniscient narrati!es e$ternal focalization • objecti!e third=person narrati!e • some stretches of omniscient and limited omniscient narrati!es ?ocalization not only concerns the distinction between internal and e$ternal, but is also a matter of degree. Genette uses the term zero focalisation for the God=like knowledge of the omniscient third=person narrator. Ghat is seen and known by the omniscient narrator has the appearance of being completely transparent without the apparent inter!ention of a focaliser, whether it be the character or narrator. Le"els #+ N'&&'ti#n There are se!eral le!els or layers of narration. The following illustration will lead us to a discussion of further terms associated with the narrator5 P r o d u c t i o n author B i$plied author B narrator B character Cspea8er(s)D B R e c e p t i o n character Clistener(s)D B narratee B i$plied reader B reader S(m$'th( 0et!een Le"els The !arious personages listed abo!e may ha!e a sympathetic relationship with one another. There may be a sympathetic bond, for e$ample, between the reader and narrators, between the narrator and characters, between the implied author and the reader and so on. /ympathy may also apply to the narrator0s !iew of what happens in the story. I&#n( Irony may arise if there is a discrepancy (as percei!ed by the real reader between • the 6messages0 sent by the !arious personages noted abo!e • the 6messages0 recei!ed by them, or, • the 6messages0 sent and recei!ed between them. ?or e$ample, there may be discrepancies, amongst other possibilities, between the 6messages0 of the implied author and the real author, between those of the implied author and the narrator, and between those of the real author and the narrator. <arrati!e irony may also arise in the discrepancies between the 6messages0 recei!ed by the real reader and the implied reader, by the real reader and the narratee and so on. "lso, there may be discrepancies between them. Irony !iewed in these terms has been discussed by +hatman 8@;&5 ))&=)%;. D#es the N'&&'t#& E3ist in D&'m'G It can be argued that the narrator does not e$ist in drama. *ut we can say this only in the sense of a clear=cut personage telling the story for us, and in fact, e!en if we take this definition, there are instances of o!ert narrators in drama. The narrator is also defined (at least in the traditional "nglo=/a$on approach in terms of the perspecti!e gi!en to us in relation to a story. Thus the concept of the narrator is not clearly distinguished from that of point of !iew. In this light, it is difficult to dismiss the dramatic narrator (or at least a related concept completely. In this regard, we can see that the objecti!e third=person narrator in prose fiction, or what is also known as the dramatic third=person narrator, is still regarded (at least traditionally as a narrator, and not summarily dismissed. Chapter No: 11 STYLISTICS AND GRAMMAR FOCUS ON • Loo6ing at Nouns7 +erbs and "ther Simple Constituents In this chapter, we will be dealing with the !arious ways we can look at Rnglish grammar (parts of speech, clauses, etc, and how these le$ical categories can be used for stylistic analysis. There should be nothing new here for you, as we will be dealing with some of the basic facts of the Rnglish language. In relation to nouns, we will be using chapter four of 2andolph Xuirk and /idney Greenbaum0s A Mniversity Crammar of 'nglish as our basic reference. M#&$heme H Le3ic'l Item *efore we proceed further, the two following concepts need to be recalled5 • the morpheme and • the le$ical item The morpheme is the lowest unit of meaning. /ome words in Rnglish are distinguished as belonging to one or another meaningful category by adding or taking out the appropriate morphemes to or from them (a fre-uently cited instance is adding the morpheme 6=ed0 at the end of certain !erbs to indicate the past tense in Rnglish. Ge can define morpheme as5 " morpheme is the smallest meaningful unit in the grammar of a language. +urrent approaches to morphology concei!e of morphemes as rules in!ol!ing the linguistic conte$t, rather than as isolated pieces of linguistic matter. They acknowledge that • meaning may be directly linked to suprasegmental phonological units, such as tone or stress. • the meaning of a morpheme with a gi!en form may !ary, depending on its immediate en!ironment. " word should be distinguished from a le(ical item. " le(ical item, which is also known as a le(ical unit, may be larger than a morpheme, and may consist of more than one word. 6Botion pictures0 for e$ample, consists of two words, but is a single le(ical item. 1e$ical items with two or more words need not be confined to nouns. #hrasal !erbs, which will be dealt with later on in the chapter, are also le$ical items that consist of two words. Gords are easier to count than le$ical items5 they can be con!eniently counted using word processing software, but it is more difficult to reliably count le$ical items, e!en with more recent software. S#me As$ects #+ N#)ns H Othe& Sim$le C#nstit)ents Countability and "u$ber "mong the basic facts of Rnglish which you should already know are that nouns can be countable or uncountable. "nd that a countable noun can either be singular or plural. The plural is usually indicated by adding the appropriate plural morpheme at the end (such as 6=s0 6=en0 etc.. In relation to the countable L uncountable distinction, it may be of stylistic rele!ance, in your analysis of a passage, to ask the -uestion whether it is possible for the writer, character or speaker to use an uncountable noun instead of a countable one, or !ice !ersa. Ge may also note here that there are some uncountable nouns which are treated as countable in recent Rnglish. Gords such as 6knowledges0 and 6imageries0 ha!e appeared in the plural form (and are therefore regarded as countable, although they are traditionally treated as uncountable in Rnglish5 you may ask yoursel!es if any stylistic significance is achie!ed by doing this. Proper and Co$$on "ouns "nother distinction found in traditional grammar, is that between proper and common nouns. "s you know, proper nouns are names, such as 6"li0, 6Islamabad0 and 6Rid=ul=?itr0, and are often capitalised, whereas common nouns form the bulk of the nouns in an Rnglish dictionary. In a te$t, the use of a proper noun as against a common noun may be of stylistic significance. (]ou may encounter other considerations in the analysis of pronouns in relation to the analysis of cohesion. 2epeating a person0s name, for e$ample, instead of using the appropriate common noun or pronoun, may make the te$t sound formal, or e!en re!erential, although sarcasm may be intended. Abstract and Concrete "ouns Traditionally, nouns are also regarded as either abstract or concrete. " concrete noun refers to an object which can be directly percei!ed by our senses, like 6tree0 or 6building0, whereas an abstract noun refers to an idea or concept, such as 6society0 or 6thought0. /tylistically, the fre-uent use of abstract nouns in a te$t may lead us to describe the te$t as thoughtful, scholarly, pedantic etc. especially when it is possible to use concrete nouns instead of their abstract counterparts. 0ender Gender refers to the male or female !ariants of certain nouns, such as 6actor0L0actress0, 6waiter0L0waitress0 or pronouns such as 6he0L0she0, 6him0L0her0. Cender is a prominent issue in the study of stylistics today. It becomes especially significant in the study of the style (and ideology of recent writing when the writer (or narrator, character, speaker etc. can resort to a gender<neutral le(ical item, but resorts instead to a gender<marked noun or pronoun. "u$erals "lso connected to nouns are the numerals. /tylistically, a person who is fond of gi!ing numerical figures such as 6K480 or 6K:0 instead of less precise -uantifiers such as 6many0 or 6some0 may be interested in precision, but may otherwise be regarded (depending on the conte$t as pedantic, o!er=scrupulous, o!erly detailed etc. Possessi+e Case In Rnglish, what is known as the genitive or possessive case, is indicated at the end of the noun with an 6s0 (in writing, a singular noun ends with an apostrophe followed by an 6s0, and a plural noun ends with an 6s0 followed by an apostrophe. The noun with this construction usually indicates that the personLbeingLthing which it refers to owns the referent of the noun which immediately follows it, but other meanings are possible in the genitive case in Rnglish (e.g. that the referent of the second noun is located within the first one, etc.. P&#n#)ns The word pronoun has been used earlier in this handout, and you all know what personal pronouns such as 6I0, 6you0, 6they0 etc. are. /ome or all pronouns are inflected according to • person (8stL)ndL%rd person pronouns5 I=weLyouLhe=she=it=they, • gender (which affects only the second=person singular pronouns5 e.g. he=she, • number (I=weH sheLheLit=they, and • case (see below. The genitive case inflections for pronouns are -uite different from that of other nouns5 only 6it0 has the 6s0 suffi$ following the noun referring to the possessorH as you know, the other pronouns which refer to the possessor are my=ourLyourLhis=her=their. "nother difference is that pronouns in Rnglish are inflected in relation to the nominative (or subjecti!e and accusativeBdative (or objecti!e cases as well. These cases occur in relation to the position of the noun in the clause5 e.g. a 6I0 criticized him0, b 6Ge ga!e the money to him0. Ge may note here that the 6I0 in e$ample a and the 6Ge0 in e$ample b are in the nominative case (i.e. the form of the pronoun is inflected by its position as the subject of the clause, and that the 6him0 in e$ample a is in the accusative case (i.e. the form is inflected by its direct object position, whereas that in e$ample b is in the dative case (i.e. the form is inflected by its indirect object position. Ge may also note here that the accusative and dative cases for the pronouns in Rnglish ha!e the same form. Dete&mine&s There is a range of determiners in Rnglish, some of which will be mentioned again in the section on cohesion (where they are classified under demonstratives. 3eterminers add a further dimension to the analysis and interpretation of te$ts. "mong the more fre-uently encountered determiners are the articles, which can be definite (6the0 or indefinite (6a0, 6an0. The stylistic significance of the articles is self=e$planatoryH in addition to the con!entional interpretation, you may find that the definite article, especially if its accompanying noun appears for the first time, may re!eal what the writer (or narrator, character, speaker etc. regards as knowledge which is shared by the reader. (Howe!er, the use of 6the0 in relation to an accompanying noun for the first time in an e$tract from a longer work may tell us what we should ha!e known from our reading of an earlier part of the work. F)ncti#n W#&ds 3eterminers, like pronouns (abo!e and au$iliary !erbs (below are sometimes described as function words (or grammatical words. +on!ersely, nouns, !erbs (more specifically le$ical !erbs5 see below, adjecti!es and ad!erbs are classified as le(ical words (or content words. S#me As$ects #+ Ve&0s Ge will ne$t go to some aspects of !erbs, many of which you should already know. The recommended chapter in 2andolph Xuirk and /idney Greenbaum0s A Mniversity Crammar of 'nglish is chapter three. "t a more elementary le!el, you may also find the rele!ant pages from "nthony Hughes An ?n<Line 'nglish Crammar useful. Au%iliary or Le%ical The !erbs in Rnglish can be generally categorised in terms of • au$iliary and • le$ical (or content, or what Hughes describes as 6ordinary0 !erbs. The au$iliary !erbs perform their function only in relation to the le$ical !erbs (and are hence sometimes also known as function !erbs. "u$iliary !erbs, unlike le$ical !erbs, are sometimes described as a closed category, as their total number is limited, and has not changed !ery much in the recent history of the language. 3ue to their limited number, all the au$iliary !erbs in Rnglish, unlike the le$ical !erbs, can be con!eniently listed in a typical grammar of Rnglish. /ome of the au$iliary !erbs are categorized as modal, whereas the others can be categorized as primary. The primary au$iliary !erbs in Rnglish are do, have and be. The modal au(iliary verbs are can, could, may, might, shall, should, will, would, must, used to, need, dare. 7ne must be careful with these e$amples, because some of them can function as le$ical !erbs. "ll the primary au(iliary !erbs for e$ample, depending on their meaning, can function as le$ical !erbs, and this is also true for some of the modal au(iliaries, such as need and dare (and arguably, will and would, although their meanings are different from those of their au$iliary e-ui!alents. In order to see whether a !erb functions as an au(iliary, we ha!e to see whether its essential function is to modify another !erbH if the !erb stands on its own, then it should be regarded as a le$ical !erb. ?or e$ample, the !erbs in the following clauses are all le(ical5 6he needs some money0, 6he has two houses0, 6she is a teacher0. Howe!er, the same !erbs are au(iliary in the following e$amples, because they modify other !erbs5 6he needn0t do it0, 6he has done it0, 6she is doing it0. !initeness Aerbs in Rnglish can be ‡ finite or ‡ non=finite. @on<finite !erbs in Rnglish are usually indicated by the word 6to0 preceding the !erb, or by the morpheme 6=ing0 at the end of the !erb. " finite !erb has tense, i.e. past or present tense (see the ne$t paragraph and the ne$t section of this section. " finite !erb in the present tense also has a relationship of concord with the subject of the clause. This means that the verb has to agree in number with the sub4ect (i.e. whether it is singular or plural. "s you know, if the subject is singular, the (present tense !erb ends with an 6s0, 6=ies0 etc., but if it is plural, this morpheme is not present. Ge may note here that number concord is not present (at least in form in the modal au(iliaries (and this may be one way by which we can judge whether these !erbs function as modal au(iliary or le(ical verbs5 i.e. if number concord is e!ident, then the !erb is a le$ical !erb. Ge ha!e noted earlier that a finite !erb has a relationship of concord with the subject of the clause, but this does not mean that for a noun to be regarded as a subject, the succeeding !erb has to ha!e a relationship of grammatical concord with it, nor need the !erb be finite. ?or e$ample, in the clause 6Iack asks 2ichard to do him a fa!our0, 6Iack0 is the sub4ect of the finite verb 6asks0, while 2ichard is the subject of the non<finite !erb 6to do0. Tense It was mentioned in the pre!ious paragraph that finite !erbs ha!e tense as a feature. "s you know, there are two tenses in Rnglish5 • the past and • present tenses. (" third 6tense0, the future tense, is sometimes included in Rnglish grammar te$t books. 0ast tense in Rnglish is usually indicated by a morpheme spelt with a 6=d0 or 6=ed0 at the end of the !erb, but as you know, there are a number of irregular !erbs where past tense is indicated by other means, e.g. 6to see0 ( 6saw0, 6to go0 ( 6went0, 6to sing0 ( 6sang0 etc. (The so=called future tense is indicated by the au$iliary !erb 6will0 before the le$ical !erb. Aspect 2elated to tense is aspect, where one specifies whether the action denoted by a !erb • has been done or • is going on. "s you know, one uses the perfect aspect, which is indicated by the au$iliary !erb 6to ha!e0, followed by a le(ical verb in the form of what is sometimes called the 6=ed participle0 in the grammar of Rnglish, to specify that an action has already been done at a particular point of time. The perfective in Rnglish can either be in the present or past tense (indicating that the action has been done at the present moment of the discourse or at a point of time to the past of the discourse. The progressive aspect is indicated by the au$iliary !erb 6to be0, followed by the le(ical verb, which is in the form of what is called the 6=ing participle0 in the grammar of Rnglish, to specify that an action is (or was still going on at a particular point of time. "gain, the progressive in Rnglish can either be in the present or past tense (indicating that the action is going on at the present moment of the discourse or at a point of time to the past of the discourse. Transiti+ity ?inally, let us look at the meaning of the word transitive* 7ne way by which this concept can be understood, is to look at the verb in relation to the • subject, and the presence or absence of • the direct and • indirect objects ?or e$ample, in the clause 6Ge ga!e the money to him0, 6Ge0 is the subject, 6the money0 is the direct object and 6him0 is the indirect object, as illustrated in the table below. Ge ga!e the money to him Sub@ect ,erb &irect Ob@ect Indirect Ob@ect 7ur interest here howe!er, is more on the !erb, and when we put our focus on this, we notice that not all !erbs beha!e in the same way as the !erb 6to gi!e0. Bany !erbs, for e$ample, do not carry the indirect object (e.g. 6to sha!e0, 6to see0, 6to dream0, and some can function without the direct object (6to laugh0, 6to run0, 6to chatter0. ]ou should know that • a !erb which carries both the direct and indirect objects is known as a di=transiti!e !erb, • that which carries only the direct ob4ect is called a transiti!e !erb and finally, • that which does not carry the direct ob4ect is known as an intransiti!e or non= transiti!e !erb. Phrasal ,erbs <ot e!ery !erb consists of a single word. /ome !erbs consist of two or e!en three words, such as 6round off0 and 6face up to0. In each of the gi!en e$amples, the preposition or prepositions following the first word are not prepositions in their own right, but part of the phrasal !erb. /ome phrasal !erbs allow a word or phrase to be inserted between their earlier and later components, thus splitting the phrasal !erb into two5 8. They ha!e rounded it off. 7ne way to check whether we are dealing with a phrasal verb or a !erb followed by a preposition is to see whether the preposition or particle that follows the !erb initiates a prepositional phrase by placing the phrase which the preposition is supposed to initiate elsewhere. 1et us look at the phrase 6stood by0 which may depend on its conte$t to determine whether it is a phrasal !erb or a !erb followed by a preposition5 ). They stood by the ri!er. %. They stood by him. In ), 6by the ri!er0 can easily be placed at the beginning, without significantly changing the meaning of the clause5 '. *y the ri!er, they stood. Howe!er, the acceptability of mo!ing 6by him0 in % to the beginning appears to be -uestionable5 K. *y him, they stood. The clause in K abo!e may still be acceptable, but the meaning has been changed to become closer to the meaning of 8 and % instead of ) (to stand physically instead of supporting or defending the person indicated by the pronoun. "lso, 6stood0 in K, if the change in meaning is allowed, is no longer part of a phrasal !erb, but a one=word le$ical item that stands on its own. An'l(sis #+ Ve&0s in Lite&'&( St(listics It needs to be emphasised here that in literary stylistics, our primary interest is not on the !arious categories we can put these !erbs into, but how the !erbs function in the gi!en work or abstract. There are no easy formulas here, but we can make some !ery brief preliminary general obser!ations which, it is hoped, will not be regarded as in!iolable or e$hausti!e. • The usefulness of a primary au$iliary !erb for stylistic analysis may depend on the aspectual function it ser!es in relation to the le$ical !erb5 for e$ample, whether an action is still going on, no longer functioning etc. These !erbs may be of concern in relation to the accuracy of our analysis of time in the literary work. • The modal au$iliaries are usually a rich source for the interpretation of opinions, e!aluations, feelings, and of emotional reactions, judgements of certainty, the issuing of commands etc. (we will go back to these in the section on mood and modality later this chapter. • The finite !erbs can be regarded as being anchored to a more definite time, and related in more definite ways to their subjects, whereas the non=finite !erbs do seem to ha!e, comparati!ely speaking, a less certain linkage to time and personH howe!er, one needs to be warned here that this linkage may be indicated or implied by the tensed !erb to which the non=finite !erb grammatically relates, or by time ad!erbials. • The interpretation of the significance of tense in a literary work is by no means confined to determining whether an e!ent is in the past or the present5 notice for e$ample, the use of the present tense in a narrati!e written in the past tense, which may indicate that the situation described is imaginary, hypothetical, of uni!ersal significance, etc. • The use of many intransiti!e !erbs in a te$t may indicate the description of actions which e$ist by themsel!es, and are not done on objects, things or people, while the fre-uent use of transiti!e !erbs may signify the opposite of thisH di=transiti!e !erbs -uite often indicate the con!eyance (or e$change of information, or of goods and ser!ices. Ad1ecti"es 'nd Ad"e&0s Attributi+e3 Predicati+e E Postposed Ad4ectives as you know, -ualify nouns. They can be easily located in Rnglish when they precede nouns, such as, 6the red house0, 6the wonderful party0. These adjecti!es are described as attributive. *ut adjecti!es can also function predicatively, in which case they can be found elsewhere in the clause, such as following the !erb 6to be05 6the house is red0, 6the party is wonderful0. In some instances, adjecti!es can follow the direct object, in which case it is described as postposed, such as 6he paints the house red0, 6they made the party wonderful0. The Intensiier and Co$parati+e F Superlati+e Bany adjecti!es can be modified by the intensifier 6!ery0 and other intensifiers such as 6fairly0 and 6-uite0, and many of them ha!e comparative and superlative forms, or, the appropriate comparati!e and superlati!e words can be added before them, that is to say • the suffi( 6=er0 (or 6=ier0 or the premodifying word 6more0 for comparati!es, and • the suffi( 6=est0 (or 6=iest0 or the premodifying word 6most0 for superlati!es. ?or e$ample, the adjecti!e 6bright0 has the comparati!e 6brighter0 and the superlati!e 6brightest0, while the adjecti!e 6intelligent0 has the comparati!e 6more intelligent0 and the superlati!e 6most intelligent0. 0radability "djecti!es which can ha!e comparative and superlative !ersions, or which can be modified by intensifying words such as 6!ery0, 6so0, 6utterly0, etc. are sometimes described as gradable ad4ectives. It is important to note that the words 6more0 and 6most0 need not always -ualify adjecti!es, as they can also -ualify nounsH e.g. 6most people disagreed with the ruling0, 6more students are coming forward to !oice their opinion0. An'l(sis #+ Ad1ecti"es in Lite&'&( St(listics "s regards the analysis of adjecti!es in stylistics, one of the first -uestions one asks is • Ghether there are many of them in a te$t, or whether they are used sparingly. "s you may know, one of the main functions adjecti!es ser!e is to gi!e more description to the entities found in a te$tH so, the use of more adjecti!es will result in the descripti!e richness of the te$t, whereas a lack of them may result in descripti!e sparseness or thinness. " lot of adjecti!es may howe!er make the style of the te$t ornate (or flowery, and slows down the action in the te$t, as one feels that one has to concentrate one0s attention on the details of static entities or phenomena. • Ghether comparati!es or superlati!es are used. The use of comparati!es is self= e$planatory, and shows the interest the te$t has in relating the -ualities of something to those of another thing, or in relating them to an assumed yardstick (this of course gi!es rise to another -uestion5 the basis for the assumed yardstick, which you may want to -uestion in your analysis. /uperlati!es may also ser!e the same purpose, but they may re!eal the interest the te$t has in !iewing things in terms of e$tremes (a few of these superlati!es, especially when used collo-uially, may e!en be e$aggerated, and this may be a point of interest in your interpretation of the passage. Le%ical Sets In analysing the adjecti!es, you may also want to try (if it is possible to put them in le$ical sets, in the sense that5 • ]ou may want to place them in terms of certain categories, such as adjecti!es describing colour, shape, size, speed, etc. • ]ou may also want to look at the le$ical sets of the nouns, and whether there is a !ariation in the use of the adjecti!es in relation to them5 e.g. concrete or abstract nouns, animate L inanimate entities, male L female etc. • In relation to the abstract L concrete di!ision, you may notice that this distinction may also apply in relation to some of the adjecti!es themsel!esH for e$ample, 6red0 or 6s-uarish0 is concrete, but 6thoughtful0 or 6regretful0 is abstract, and you may want to analyse them accordingly. Howe!er, you may ha!e noticed that there are -uite a few adjecti!es which are problematicH many in fact appear to be concrete, but because they are used to describe abstract nouns, become abstract in their significance. Other 0ra$$atical !eatures F Categories or Le%ical sets 1e$ical sets, of course, work not only in relation to adjecti!es, but in relation to other grammatical features or categories as well. 1e$ical sets that are assembled according to features of nouns ( for e$ample, whether they are countable or uncountable, abstract or concrete ( may ha!e a bearing on stylistic analysis. The same can be said about the features of !erbs, which may also be assembled according to their le$ical sets for stylistic analysis, such as whether they are transiti!e or intransiti!e, whether their tense is past or present, or the significance of au$iliary !erbs, such as aspect, or the features of likelihood, necessity or obligation, amongst other features, connected to the modal au$iliaries. In stylistic analysis of course, what is important is not the mere assembling of such features, but it must be connected to your interpretation of the te$t or part of the te$t. Ad"e&0s Traditionally, ad!erbs are regarded as -ualifying !erbs and adjecti!es. ]ou may also want to consider the following in your analysis of ad!erbs5 • Intensifiers which -ualify ad!erbs and adjecti!es, and appear to ser!e an ad!erbial function. • Xuantifiers, which -ualify indefinite pronouns, determiners or cardinal numbers, and which likewise, seem to ser!e an ad!erbial function. +onstituents in a clause which ser!e an ad!erbial function may consist of more than a single le$ical item, such as in the following clauses5 6it jumps to and fro0, 6he writes in a florid style0. "s such constituents consist of more than one le$ical item, they should be described as ad!erbial phrases.n 'odiication "n ad!erb or ad!erbial phrase can also precede a clause (in which case it can sometimes be more appropriately described as -ualifying the whole clause rather than the main !erb which the clause contains. "n e$ample is gi!en below, which ser!es as a comment on the entire clause5 6<aturally, she thought highly of him0. Howe!er, the placement of the ad!erb at the beginning may still be primarily -ualifying the !erb5 6/lowly, he approached the door0. !unctions o Ad+erbs "d!erbs or ad!erbial phrases may indicate5 • circumstance (time, place, manner etc.5 6yesterday0, 6there0, 6carefully0, etc.H • modality (possibility, duty, necessity, ability etc.5 6perhaps0, 6obligatorily0, 6essentially0, 6de$trously0, etc.H and • the clauses0 connection to pre!ious clauses (i.e. ser!ing a conjuncti!e functionH 6subse-uently0, 6hence0, 6firstly0. R$cept for most ad!erbs or ad!erbials ser!ing a conjuncti!e function, which are usually fronted, the other functions allow ad!erbs or ad!erbials to appear elsewhere in the clause. The "ature o Ad+erbs "s you can see, ad!erbs or ad!erbials are more comple$ as a le$ical category than adjecti!es. Howe!er, although we are interested in ad!erbs and ad!erbials in their !arious functions in this section, our focus will mainly be on those which -ualify !erbs, and those which -ualify adjecti!es. "d!erbials or ad!erbial phrases ser!ing the function of -ualifying the clause are also important, and will recei!e some mention here, but they will be dealt with again in the section on "allidayan grammar later in the chapter (as circumstantial, modal and conjuncti!e adjuncts. Identifying ad!erbs which -ualify !erbs should not be too difficult. They usually follow the !erbs5 e.g., 6he walks clumsily0, 6he speaks rapidly0. /ometimes, it is possible for such ad!erbs to precede the rest of the clause, such as 6clumsily, he walks0, or 6rapidly, he speaks0 (although such a construction may indicate that it is more the whole clause that is -ualified rather than the !erb. (]ou may be interested to know here that these ad!erbs are also known as circumstantial adjuncts hin this instance, they are the circumstantial adjuncts of manneriH these adjuncts will be mentioned again in the chapter later on "alliday’s grammar. Howe!er, when ad!erbs -ualify adjecti!es, they precede rather than follow the adjecti!es5 e.g. 6a clumsily rapid deli!ery0, 6a rapidly diminishing resource0. Qnlike ad!erbs which -ualify !erbs, it is not possible to front ad!erbs which -ualify adjecti!es at the beginning of the clauseH if they are fronted, they cease to -ualify the adjecti!es. Ad"e&0s in St(listic An'l(sis ?rom a stylistic perspecti!e, ad!erbs or ad!erbials, like adjecti!es, gi!e more description to a passage. Qnlike adjecti!es howe!er, they do not merely ser!e the function of -ualifying only one type of le$ical category. Their stylistic significance may therefore !ary according to the function they ser!e in a clause, and the functions they ser!e are more di!erse than that of adjecti!es ( for e$ample. 1e$ical sets of ad!erbs or ad!erbials may also be useful for stylistic analysis. "d!erbials can be further described in terms of their modal, circumstantial or conjuncti!e characteristics, and their le$ical sets be collated accordingly. L##,in 't the Cl')se Ge ha!e so far dealt with indi!idual le$ical categories or parts of speech. "s you are undoubtedly aware, each le$ical category does not function by itself, but only in relation to others in a clause. In Rnglish, it is possible to ha!e a clause with only two le$ical items, such as 6he dances0 or 6they laugh0. 7r e!en, for that matter (with specific reference to imperati!es we can ha!e a clause with only one le$ical item, such as 6rune0, 6marche0 etc. (nIt can be argued howe!er, that an imperati!e has a missing subject, and thus, there are two constituents e!en here. "s you may know, 6he0 and 6they0 in the two earlier clauses are known as sub4ects, and 6dances0 and 6laugh0 are the verbs which form a grammatical relationship with their respecti!e subjects. In order to indicate that such a verb has a grammatical relationship with its sub4ect, and with the rest of the clause, which it initiates (or 6predicates0, it is called a predicator by Halliday. The predicator e$cludes the finite element of the clause, thus indicating that it is also found in a non<finite clause. The subject and predicator can be regarded, at least traditionally, as essential for a clause.(n"s we ha!e seen abo!e, this is arguable, but yet again, as we are not doing a course in synta$, we won0t bother you with this (e.g., the analysis of subjectless clauses in certain languages . If a so=called clause does not ha!e both these grammatical categories, and constituents, then it may be the case that one of them has been deleted (or ellipted, but assumed to be grammatically there. If this is not the case, then we are not dealing with a clause, but with a phrase. Howe!er, other grammatical categories may be found in a clause, in addition to the sub4ect and the predicator. <otice that the clauses gi!en abo!e ha!e intransitive verbs as their predicators. If the !erb used is transitive, we need a direct object following it. The direct object falls under the category of complement in Halliday0s grammar. (nGhat Halliday calls the complement also includes what Xuirk et al. describes as the subject complement5 for e$ample, the word following the !erb in each of the following5 6they are teachers0, and 6he seems intelligent0. ?or transiti!e !erbs such as 6to kick0 and 6to make0 to function in a clause, a direct object needs to immediately follow each of them5 6he kicks the ball0, 6they make cakes0. "n additional term which needs to be introduced here is the ad4unct, which is basically • an ad!erb, • a phrase performing an ad!erbial function, or • a prepositional phrase. (nXuirk et al.0s grammar, has a definition of complement which is -uite different from that of Halliday, and will not be used in this section in order to a!oid confusion. Thus a clause may ha!e the following constituents5 &ub4ect < 0redicator < +omplement < Ad4unct The abo!e constituents may be in the gi!en order if the clause is a canonical declarati!e clause with a transiti!e !erb as its predicator5 for e$ample, 6he kicks the ball gracefully0, 6they make cakes today0, as illustrated in the tables below Table 8 he kicks the ball gracefully Sub@ect Predicator Co$ple$ent Ad@unct Table ) they make cakes today Sub@ect Predicator Co$ple$ent Ad@unct "n initial complicating factor here is the fact that in language, each of the constituents abo!e may ha!e more than a single word or le$ical item. Ge ha!e seen that in 6he kicks the ball0H the (singular countable noun 6ball0 needs a determiner, which is the definite article 6the0 in the abo!e e$ample. /o word or le$ical item should not be confused with clause constituents. It is possible to ha!e more than just 6the ball0 as the complement for the abo!e clause5 e.g. 6the red ball0, 6the beautiful red ball0, 6the remarkably beautiful red ball0 etc, as illustrated in the table below5 Table % Sub@ect Predicator Co$ple$ent Ad@unct he kicks the red ball gracefully he kicks the beautiful red ball gracefully he kicks the remarkably beautiful red ball gracefully The same can be done for the other constituents5 e.g. 6the ladies in red aprons make cakes0, 6they were going to ha!e finished making the cakes0, 6they make cakes in an e$tremely careful manner0, as illustrated in the following table. Table ' Sub@ect (finitehKin Predicator Co$ple$ent Ad@unct the ladies in red aprons make cakes == they were going to ha!e finished making the cakes == they make cakes in an e$tremely careful manner (K.nGe ha!e added the 6finite0 column here to indicate that it is, strictly speaking, separate from the predicator constituent in Halliday0s grammar. L##,in 't the Sentence Orthographic Entity Ge use the term clause abo!e, which is related, but is -uite different from a sentence. • " sentence, in the Hallidayan definition which we adopt, is an orthographic entity. • " clause howe!er, is a grammatical entity, and as we ha!e seen, is traditionally regarded as needing at least two constituents5 the subject and the predicator. Si$ple3 Co$pound and Co$ple% There are other terms in traditional grammar which you may find useful to know in stylistic analysis5 • If the sentence has only one clause (i.e. only one subject = predicator set, or == as subjects can be missing == one predicator then it is regarded as a simple sentence (note that all the e$amples gi!en earlier are simple sentences. • Howe!er, a sentence may ha!e more than one clause in it, in which case, in traditional grammar, the sentence is regarded as either compound or comple(. o " compound sentence is one in which the clauses ha!e a coordinate relationship with each other. o " comple( sentence is one in which one or more clauses ha!e a subordinate relationship with the main clause. Coordination and Subordination Traditionally, a coordinate clause is regarded as ha!ing an 6e-ual0 or grammatically 6independent0 relationship with the other clause or clauses in the sentence. 7ne way to locate a coordinate clause is to look at the coordinate conjunction which connects it with an earlier clause. /ome of the familiar coordinate conjunctions are 6and0, 6but0 and 6or0. To test whether a clause performs a coordinate function with an earlier clause, one tries to front the clause, together with the conjunction preceding it5 if this does not succeed, then the clause is more likely to be a coordinate clause. ?or e$ample, in relation to 6he dances and they make cakes0, it is not possible to ha!e 6and they make cakes, he dances0. The clause beginning with 6and0 is therefore a coordinate clause. Howe!er, it is grammatically possible to mo!e the clauses beginning with 6when0 and 6to0 in the following to the front5 6he dances, when they make cakes0, and 6they bake cakes to make him dance0. The clauses beginning with 6when0 and 6to0 are therefore regarded as subordinate clauses. There are of course e$ceptions to this rule. "s we will see later in this section, e$actly the opposite applies when one talks of sentences in!ol!ing projection. /ubordinate conjunctions are more !aried than coordinate conjunctions, and include 6when0, 6where0, 6because0, 6although0, 6since0, etc. /ubordinate clauses can also be preceded by a non=finite !erb, such as the 6to infiniti!e0 such as 6to make0 abo!e, or an 6=ing infiniti!e0, such as 6they bake cakes, making him dance0 (although the fronting of the subordinate clause does not seem to work that neatly for this e$ample5 the sentence 6making him dance, they bake cakes0, although grammatical, does appear to lose its causal sense5 i.e. 6afterLwhile making him dance . . .0 instead of 6 . . . thus making him dance0. &o#nran8ing *efore we go on to our analyses, we may briefly mention a further complication (which will be dealt with again in a later section5 some of the clauses which appear superficially as subordinate clauses may not function as such within a sentence, as they are, or are part of, the constituents in a clause. In other words, these so=called 6clauses0 ha!e been 6downranked0. ?or e$ample, all the following italicised clauses function as constituents within the clause, or as part of them, rather than as subordinate clauses in their own right5 • 6they made the cakes which my mother bought’ (as part of the complementH • 6they made what was wanted’ (as the complement itselfH • 9whoever needs cakes should make them themsel!es0 (as the sub4ect. Ge may note that all the three e$amples here are actually simple sentences, as the sentences do not actually ha!e subordinate or coordinate clauses in them. The Cl')se in H'llid'(/s G&'mm'& *efore we can go to the analysis of mood and modality itself, let us go back to the constituents of the "allidayan clause, which was introduced earlier on. Ge may want to note here again that an unmarked declarative clause may consist of the following5 &ub4ect, /inite, 0redicator, +omplement, Ad4unct These constituents can be illustrated with the e$ample below5 Table K I am writing handouts for my students Sub@ect !inite Predicator Co$ple$ent Ad@unct "s mentioned in the earlier, and as can be seen from the abo!e illustration5 • The sub4ect and complement are typically realized by nouns or nominal groups. • The finite by the tensed element of the !erb. • The predicator by the non=tensed (or non=finite element or elements of the !erb or !erbal group • The ad4unct by an ad!erb, ad!erbial group, or prepositional phrase. Ge can also note that • The sub4ect has a relationship of grammatical concord (or, in other words, a grammatical relationship of number with the finite element. • That the finite and predicator elements are both present in a simple finite !erb5 e.g., the !erb write in 6I write handouts for my students0 has both a finite and a predicator. "ature o the Co$ple$ent "nother important feature to note is the nature of the complement5 • "s the abo!e e$ample indicates, the complement may perform the function of a direct object to the predicator. • The e$ception to this is the !erb 6to be0, and other related !erbs performing an intensi!e function, which are usually regarded as intransiti!e, but may ha!e a noun, noun group or adjecti!e following them. The constituent which follows the intensive verb is also described as the complement of the clause. Here are some further obser!ations of Halliday0s conception of the complement5 • "lthough the noun group (or adjecti!al phrase following the !erb to be is not a direct object, it can be compared in some ways, to the direct objects following transiti!e !erbsH therefore, the same term, the complement is used because of their similar syntactic positions. • 7nly a clause in the acti!e !oice with a complement following it can be passi!ized, including, according to Halliday, clauses with intensi!e !erbs (but the latter is contro!ersial, and you can, if you want, disagree with Halliday on this. • ?or clauses with transiti!e !erbs, the complement ceases to e$ist in a passi!e clause, as it has become the subject (but this is not the case when it comes to the so=called passi!ization of clauses with intensi!e !erbs. ?or instance, in the passi!e clause 6handouts ha!e been written by me0, 6handouts0 (which was the complement of the acti!e clause is now the subject, and 6by me0 (of which 6me0, or rather 6I0, was the subject in the acti!e clause is now an adjunct. Absence o Constituents <ot all the constituents indicated abo!e need to be present in all simple declarati!e clauses. • The complement, as we ha!e noted, is not present when an intransitive verb is used (e$cept for some instances of clauses with intensi!e !erbs, and is not found in a passive clause with a transiti!e !erb (please note that the phrase 6with a transiti!e !erb0 is redundant when it comes to traditional or non=Hallidayan grammar, as only a transitive verb in a clause, to begin with, can allow the clause to be passi!ized. • Ge may further note that the ad4unct is optional. *ut if what looks like an adjunct is obligatory, such as the constituent in a clause which has a di<transitive verb, and is an assumed (or unmarked constituent in a passive clause (as shown in the e$ample gi!en in the pre!ious paragraph, then it should be regarded as the complement. The adjunct in a passi!e is usually regarded as such because it is optional, and there are many instances where it can be remo!ed through agent=deletion. "part from clauses with di=transiti!e !erbs, there are a few other minor instances where the what looks like an adjunct is actually obligatory (such as in relation to the !erb 6beha!e0, and should therefore be regarded as a complement. The presence of the adjunct depends on the le!el of description that the writer or speaker needs, thus making it useful for the analysis of the writer0s or speaker0s style. Ordering o Constituents: The$ati7ation "s you know, there is no necessity for the &ub4ect < /inite < 0redicator < +omplement < Ad4unct pattern to be present in the gi!en order in a simple declarati!e clause in the acti!e !oice. 7ne feature of the Rnglish language which you may ha!e noticed, is the fact that you may shift some elements of the clause about. This is a factor which may be of rele!ance for theme=rheme analysis, which we will do later in the chapter. ?or instance, the abo!e e$ample can be written as5 I. 6?or my students, I am writing handouts0, II. 6Handouts I am writing for my students0. In the instances here, the ad4unct (more appropriately, the circumstantial adjunct in i, and the complement in ii are fronted or thematized. /ince the idea of themati-ation in itself is not !ery difficult to understand, we may note here, in ad!ance of our sections on theme<rheme, that another word used to describe the fronted element of the clause is theme. Ge may also note that e!erything else which follows the theme in a single clause is the rheme. In other words, • the sub4ect 6I0 in e$ample i, • the (circumstantial adjunct 6?or my students0 in e$ample ii, and • the complement 6Handouts0 in e$ample iii are all themes, and each of the rhemes is formed by all the other constituents within the clause which follow the theme, as illustrated below5 Table : The$e Rhe$e i I am writing handouts for my students. ii ?or my students, I am writing handouts. iii Handouts I am writing for my students. ]ou may also want to note here that the constituent in iii is less commonly thematized than that in i. In other words, it is more likely that the subject rather than the complement of a declarati!e clause is themati-ed. 'ar8edness " concept found in linguistics to indicate whether a linguistic element or pattern is or is not commonly found, is that of markedness. Hence • +lause i is unmarked, as the subject usually coincides with the theme in a declarati!e clause. • The themes in ii and iii are marked, as the themes, going against what is usually the case, do not coincide with the subjects. o 3ue to the fact that instances of thematized complements in declarati!e clauses are less common than those in which (circumstantial adjuncts are thematized, iii can be described as being more marked than ii. The Ad@uncts ]ou may ha!e noticed that we ha!e used the term circumstantial in parentheses in relation to the ad4uncts abo!e. "part from circumstantial ad4uncts, we also ha!e modal and con4unctive ad4uncts in Hallidayan linguistics. (There will be more discussion on these adjuncts later in the chapter. 7ur interest here is with the significance of the !arious types of ad4uncts in the analysis of the structure of the clause. ?or this purpose, a !ery brief and basic definition of these adjuncts in terms of what Halliday calls the three metafunctions of language may be helpful. • The modal ad4uncts, which belong to the interpersonal metafunction of language, refer to the speaker0s judgment of the rele!ance of the message. • The con4unctive ad4uncts, which belong to the te(tual metafunction of language, largely function (as their metafunctional designation implies to relate the significance or connection of one sentence or clause with anotherH • The circumstantial ad4uncts, which belong to the ideational or what is in this case more appropriately called the e(periential metafunction of language, gi!e further description to the situation described by the clause in terms of o e$tent, o location, o manner, o cause, o accompaniment, o matter and o role. M##d 'nd M#d'lit( I 'ood and 'odality and the Clause 7ne way by which one can glimpse at some of the preliminary issues in Halliday0s approach to mood and modality, which are regarded by Halliday as belonging to the interpersonal metafunction of language, is by looking at a modification of the simple grammatical illustration below, which has been used in the pre!ious section5 Table ; I am writing handouts for my students. Sub@ect !inite Predicator Co$ple$ent Ad@unct 'ood Residue "s you can see from the abo!e table, we ha!e added two more general categories5 .ood and Residue, and that • .ood consists of &ub4ect and /inite, whilst • the Residue consists of 0redicator, +omplement and (+ircumstantial Ad4unct* The !erb may thus not only be di!ided into /inite and 0redicator, but if these two elements are present, the !erb is in turn split between the two major di!isions of the clause5 • the /inite element belongs to the .ood, and • the 0redicator element is part of the Residue* The 0redicator, unlike the /inite, is present in most content verbs (as opposed to au(iliary verbs, whether they be finite or non=finite, but may be missing, according to Halliday, from clauses which ha!e the !erbs to be and to have (in the sense of 6to possess0, e!en if they are content verbs. The !inite Ele$ent The /inite element of the clause in!ol!es what is called a finite verbal operator. The finite !erbal operator, as you can see in the tables below (from p. ;K of the first edition of Halliday0s Introduction, can be Temporal or .odal (+f. p. ;: of the second edition or p. 88: of the third. If the finite !erbal operator is Temporal, it can represent 0ast, 0resent, or (according to Halliday /uture. If it is .odal, it can be .edian, Low, or "igh* Table of /inite %erbal ?perators There is a re!ised and in some ways more useful !ersion of the tables on p. ;: of the second edition or p. 88: of the third, which also deals with the positi!e and negati!e !ersions of these operators. *y looking at the tables below, it should be ob!ious to most of you that the past, present, and future, which are used to describe the temporal operators, are indicators of tense (to be more precise, we can describe it as primary tense hpp. ;KH ;KH 88K= 8:i. It should also be ob!ious that the modal operators are identical with the modal au(iliaries of traditional grammar. There is a difference of terminology here, with the word operator being used to indicate that each of these !erbs performs a function on another !erb, and does not stand alone. Table &5 !I"ITE ,ER*AL OPERATORS a) Te$poral operators b) 'odal operators past present uture lo# $edian high did, was, had, used to does, is, has will, shall, would, should can, may, could, might will, would, should, is to, was to must, ought to, need, has to, had to • "s the sub4ect and the finite elements of the clause belong to mood, one naturally concentrates on these elements in analysing mood and modality. In fact, if one takes the Hallidayan approach in stylistics, one usually begins by looking at subject and finite in one0s analysis. *ut other considerations are also in!ol!ed in the o!erall approach to mood and modality. Two major ones are • clausal mood (which is how the word mood is traditionally understood in grammar, and • the modal ad4uncts in the clause. (+lausal mood and the modal adjuncts will be briefly dealt with later in this section. • " fourth important consideration is polarity (i.e., whether something or an action is or isn0tH see pp. &K=@H &&=@)H 8'%=K4 of Halliday0s Introduction. S#me P&#0lems in the An'l(sis #+ Cl')s'l M##d In relation to clausal mood, one feature of Halliday0s analysis which may differ from traditional approaches to the topic, is the non<presence of the sub4unctive mood. In spite of its non=presence, you may want to include the sub4unctive in your analysis in stylistics, as it may indicate the speakerLwriter0s uncertainty about something, or hisLher description of a hypothetical situation. The sub4unctive is present in the !ery first sentence of one of the e$tracts (by T.H. Hu$ley to be discussed in the present chapter5 6/uppose it were perfectly certain that the life and fortune of e!ery one of us would, one day or other, depend upon his winning or losing a game of chess0. h<ote the relationship of the finite verb 6were0 with its subject in the clause following the !erb 6/uppose0i. 7ne reason why the sub4unctive is e$cluded from the analysis of mood by some modern grammarians of Rnglish may lie with the fact that many clauses which can be classified as sub4unctive can also be analyzed in terms of one of the other types of clausal mood. The main clause of the abo!e sentence (6/uppose0, for e$ample, can be analyzed in terms of the imperati!e mood, while the subordinate clause following it (6it were perfectly certain0 can be analyzed in terms of the declarati!e mood. G&'mm'tic'l Cl'ssi+ic'ti#n #+ the .WH/ element /ome of you may face problems with the grammatical classification of the !"<element in !" interrogatives (also known as 6open0 interrogati!es, as it can function as sub4ect, complement or ad4unct* This is of some interest to us, as the classification of the !"<element as sub4ect, complement or ad4unct may be of stylistic conse-uence. R$amples of wh<elements functioning as sub4ect, complement or ad4unct are gi!en below. Table @ (a what caused the accident SubjectF.42 (past !inite cause Predicator Co$ple$ent 'ood Residue Table @ (b which road is ItJ Co$ple$entF.42 !inite Sub@ect Residue 'ood Table @ (c where did you see ItJ [email protected] !inite Sub@ect Predicator Co$ple$ent Residue 'ood Residue The abo!e e$amples howe!er, should not present too great a problem for those of you who ha!e done some e$ercises in !"< movement in transformational grammar. *y transforming a -uestion to a declarati!e clause, for instance (or, in other words, by deri!ing the d<structure hwhich is always declarati!e in orthodo$ transformational grammari from the gi!en s<structure of the -uestion, the reason why the !"<element is a sub4ect or complement will become more apparent to you (e.g. from 6Ghich road is itJ0 to 6It is which road0. That 6where0 in 6where ha!e you been0 (table @ (c is an ad4unct, howe!er, may seem less apparent. ]ou may wonder for e$ample, why it is an ad4unct when what in 6what ha!e the elephants done to the pier0 is a complement. *ut where in the first clause clearly forms a locative function (possible d<structure5 6you ha!e been htoi where0, and is thus an ad4unct, whereas what in the second clause refers to something which the elephants ha!e done, and thus has a direct ob4ect relationship with have . . . done, and is thus a complement. So$e Proble$s #ith the I$perati+e There may also be some problems in relation to the analysis of the imperative mood. R$amples which ha!e a close relationship to Halliday0s e$amples (pp. &KH &&H 8'4, are gi!en below. Table 84 (a come into the lecture theatre will youJ Predicator Ad@unct !inite Sub@ect Residue 'ood tag Table 84 (b do consider my application won0t youJ Predicator Predicator Co$ple$ent !inite Sub@ect Residue 'ood tag Table 84 (c 1et0s walk home shall weJ Predicator Sub@ect Predicator Ad@unct !inite Sub@ect Residue 'ood tag Table 84 (d 3on0t you trust himJ Predicator Sub@ect Predicator Co$ple$ent Residue R$ample d does seem to be problematic, as it could also be an interrogati!e5 Table 84 (e 3on0t you trust himJ !inite Sub@ect Predicator Co$ple$ent 'ood Residue There are at least two ways to analyse sentences a = c. Ge can either analyse the whole of each of sentences a = c in terms of the imperati!e mood, which seems to be Hallidayus position, or we can regard Hallidayus umood tagsu as interrogati!es, and the clauses before the tags as imperati!es. The tags at the end of sentences a = c seem to be e$amples of yes=no interrogati!es, and are not only grammatically -uite unlike the clauses preceding the tags (note the use of the grammatically significant modal operators, but from a functional perspecti!e, they also seem to moderate the imperati!e nature of the antecedent clauses. The St(listic Sini+ic'nce #+ the An'l(sis #+ M#d'l Ad1)ncts "s was mentioned in a pre!ious lecture, • an adjunct can be o circumstantial, o conjuncti!e or o modal • and that these adjuncts are respecti!ely related to the o ideational, o te$tual and o interpersonal metafunctions of language. The adjuncts which come under consideration in the analysis of mood and modality are the modal ad4uncts, which according to Halliday 6e$press the speaker0s judgement regarding the rele!ance of the message0 (pp. '@=K4H '@ of his Introduction. .odal ad4uncts are further di!ided into • mood and • comment adjuncts. "s modal ad4uncts in!ol!e the 4udgment of the relevance of a message, they are clearly important for stylistic analysis. 7ne can, for e$ample, note the modal adjuncts in a passage, and ask oneself whether, or to what e$tent, they e$press or colour the opinions or perspecti!es (whether purely subjecti!e or to an e$tent based on e$ternal e!idence of the author, narrator or character in a narrati!e, or of the persona in a poem. So$e Proble$s #ith 4alliday:s Table o 'odal Ad@uncts Howe!er, although the broad distinction between the modal ad4uncts and the other types of adjuncts may not be problematic, some problems may be encountered in Halliday0s di!ision of modal ad4uncts into mood and comment adjuncts. Halliday has gi!en a list of modal adjuncts in Table %(% of the first two editions of his Introduction (pp. K4H '@ or Table %(K in the third edition (p. &). "ccording to information gi!en later in the first edition of the book (see pp. &) and &% of the first edition, the mood adjuncts in Table %(% are listed under 6I0, whilst the comment adjuncts are listed under 6II0. Howe!er, there are discrepancies between information gi!en in the two places. In Halliday0s listing of mood ad4uncts on p. &) of the first edition, the modal adjuncts indicating presumption are categorized as mood ad4uncts there, but are listed under 6II0 in the table, where the comment adjuncts should be. There is also the problem of categorizing modal adjuncts indicating opinion under mood adjuncts in the table, when they should ha!e been more appropriately listed within the category of comment adjuncts (this has been corrected in the second and third editions. The discrepancies between the list and the earlier table are not found in subse-uent editions, as the list found on p. &) of the first edition is no longer found, although the mood adjuncts in Table %(% of the second edition (p. '@ or Table %(K of the third (p.&), appear to be similarly listed under 6I0, whilst the comment adjuncts appear to be listed under 6II0. ?urthermore, the second edition does seem to ha!e impro!ed matters by usefully di!iding the mood adjuncts up into a adjuncts of polarity and modality, b adjuncts of temporality and c adjuncts of mood (pp. &)=%. There is a further ad!ance in the third edition, where mood adjuncts are di!ided into adjuncts of a temporality, (b modality and (c intensity (pp. 8):=@, and there is also a separate discussion of polarity, which can also function as mood adjuncts. In this connection, the newer editions clearly indicates that words such as 6not0, 6yes0, 6no0 and 6so0 (which in the past, posed problems in some students0 analyses, can be classified as modal adjuncts5 there is further clarification on this in the third edition. Thus the function word 6not0 which one would ha!e a tendency to describe as a negati!e polar element in response to the first edition, can now be more con!eniently described as a modal adjunct. Howe!er, one has to be warned that the other words in the list (i.e. 6yes0, 6no0 and 6so0 may also function as discourse signallers or continuatives (see pp. K'H K%='H &8, 8'K in which case they are part of the te$tual metafunction of language, and hence cannot be regarded as modal adjuncts. In functional grammar, one looks at how these words are used in the te$t, and one should not automatically classify a word according to how it has been classified in a part of Halliday0s book. 3ue to the problems that may arise from one0s reading of the first edition, it would thus be helpful if we could make some amendments to Halliday0s table of modal ad4uncts. *ut before doing that, one should firstly clear the ground by attempting to define the terms mood and comment adjuncts more clearly. In our !iew, a comment adjunct could be defined as a modal adjunct which is more dependent on the speaker0s subjecti!e opinion, whereas a mood adjunct is relati!ely less subjecti!e and more reliant on crude statistical e!idence. Gith this definition, one can reconstruct Halliday0s Table %() of the second edition, or Table %(K of the third, which we ha!e done below. Howe!er, our re!ised table of the modal adjuncts in Rnglish, in spite of ha!ing taken into consideration the three editions of Halliday0s Introduction, and including a few more e$amples than those gi!en in Halliday0s table, is not complete, as the mood and comment adjuncts of the Rnglish language do not belong to 6closed0 linguistic categories. ]ou can, we are sure, add further e$amples of mood and comment adjuncts of your own. Boreo!er, the classification of the adjuncts depends on conte(t, and some of the e$amples gi!en here can be classified as circumstantial or con4unctive ad4uncts depending on the conte$t in which they appear. The re!ised table should therefore be used as a guide, and not as the ultimate arbitrator on modal adjuncts and on their further classification into mood and comment adjuncts, as there are, in addition to the conte$t of usage, e$ceptions, o!erlaps and 6grey areas0 in language in actual use. Amended %ersions of "alliday’s Tables of .odal Ad4uncts " B773 "3IQ<+T/ Type 'eaning E%a$ples G) ad@uncts o polarity E $odality polarity is or isn0t not, yes, no, so probability how likelyJ probably, possibly, certainly, perhaps, maybe usuality how regularlyJ sometimes, often, always, ne!er, e!er, seldom, rarely, usually readiness how willingJ willingly, readily, gladly, certainly, easily obligation how committedJ definitely, absolutely, possibly, at all costs, by all means 2) ad@uncts o te$porality time at what phaseJ yet, still, already, just, soon how oftenJ once typicality how typicalJ occasionally, generally, regularly, mainly, for the most part H) ad@uncts o $ood ob!iousness how ob!iousJ ob!iously, positi!ely, of course, surely, clearly intensity to what e$tentJ just, simply, e!en, merely, only how genuinelyJ really, actually, in fact degree how closelyJ -uite, almost, nearly, scarcely, hardly, literally how completelyJ totally, entirely, utterly, completely, absolutely * +7BBR<T "3IQ<+T/ Type 'eaning E%a$ples admissi!e I admit frankly, to be honest, to tell you the truth desiderati!e how desirableJ (unfortunately, to my delight, luckily, regrettably, hopefully, to my distress entreaty I re-uest you please, kindly e!aluati!e how sensibleJ wisely, understandably, foolishly, by mistake, curiously enough, mistakenly, unwisely opinion I think in my opinion, from my point of !iew, personally, to my mind persuasi!e I assure you honestly, really, belie!e me, seriously predicti!e how e$pectedJ to my surprise, surprisingly, as e$pected, amazingly, by chance presumption how presumableJ e!idently, apparently, no doubt, presumably reser!ation how reliableJ initially, at first, tentati!ely, looking back on it, pro!isionally !alidati!e how !alidJ broadly speaking, in general (terms, on the whole, objecti!ely, strictly speaking, in principle &e+iation ro$ the SC2D2P2C2A Clause Pattern 0ra$$atical E Stylistic Signiicance The /…=f†=#=+=" structure of the declarati!e sentence per se is not really part of mood and modality. The arrangement of the constituents of the clause can be !iewed as part of the te(tual metafunction of language rather than the interpersonal metafunction. Howe!er, there are at least two aspects of the /…=f†=#=+=" structure which has a connection to mood and modality5 the section of the clause consisting of the sub4ect and finite, which is part of mood, and the ordering of the constituents of the clause according to its clausal mood (i.e. whether it is declarati!e, interrogati!e or imperati!e, which will be discussed shortly. "lthough the consistent use of the /…=f†=#=+=" clause pattern in Halliday0s grammar may in itself be of stylistic significance, we will be considering the breaking of this pattern here. 'ood • If the &T<fU<0<+<A structure is broken in a particular clause, it may be because the clause is not in the declarative mood. +lauses which belong to moods which are not declarati!e, such as those that belong to the interrogative, imperative or e(clamative moods, are usually -uite easily identifiable through intuition, or through ob!ious punctuation marks, like the -uestion and e$clamation marks. Howe!er, one has to be careful here, as uestions or e(clamations (e!en when they terminate with the appropriate punctuation marks are not necessarily in the interrogative or e(clamative moods. Bore important than just intuition or punctuation marks is the grammatical structure of the clause (see pp. ;', &%=KH ;', &K=&H 88'=8K, 8%'='4 of Halliday0s Introduction5 one may note, for e$ample, that most clausal moods need a finite !erb (and these are described as indicati!e moods, e$cept, arguably, for the imperati!e mood in Rnglish, which is can thus be described as non=indicati!e, and that the interrogative mood either needs a wh<element, or (for polar interrogati!es and most wh=interrogati!es, a finite au(iliary verb followed by the sub4ect. The analysis of clausal mood may re!eal features of the te$t which may be of stylistic rele!ance, as it may (or shouldJ tell you if a clause is a statement (declarati!e, a -uestion (interrogati!e, a command or re-uest (imperati!e, or an e$pression of surprise (e$clamati!e. The$ati7ation • There may be other reasons for breaking the basic /…=f†=#=+=" structure. "n important reason is the thematization of the + or " element in the declarati!e clause, which we ha!e briefly touched on in the pre!iously. o 7ne way to look at the stylistic significance of the themati-ed element is to ask oneself about its relationship to gi!en information, a factor which will be discussed in the section on theme<rheme later on. o "nother important consideration we may want to keep in mind before we go on to the theme<rheme sections proper, is the thematic fronting of elements in clauses whose moods are not declarati!e. o Ge may also want to consider the shuffling of elements in the rheme, which may be of stylistic significance, especially in the analysis of poetry, although this is not a factor discussed in Halliday0s grammar. 'issing Co$ple$ent • The absence of the 6+0 element, as we ha!e said in the pre!iously, may be due to the use of an intransitive verb. The use of transitive or intransitive !erbs may be of stylistic rele!ance. Halliday0s famous analysis of The 8nheritors for e$ample, is based on the analysis of the intransiti!e !erbs in the no!el. • ?actors concerning the 6"0 element may also be of stylistic rele!ance, such as o the presence or absence of the (optional 6"0 element, o its length, o the presence of more than one u"u element, o the type of 6"0 element in!ol!ed (i.e. whether it is circumstantial, conjuncti!e, or modal hand if it is a modal adjunct, whether it is a mood or comment adjuncti. Gith regard to the last point abo!e, we may note that the final position of the /…=f†=#=+=" structure usually refers to the circumstantial adjunct, as the two other types of adjuncts usually occur earlier in the clause. "s you may know from your discourse analysis course, o the conjuncti!e adjuncts contribute to the cohesion of a gi!en passage, o the modal adjuncts gi!e an indication of the 4udgmental nature of what is being said, and o the circumstantial adjuncts are intimately tied to the level of description in a gi!en passage, and their presence or absence may be related to the stylistic description of the passage as 6ornate0, 6direct0, 6opulent0, 6dry0, 6colourful0, 6concrete0 etc. Ghere rele!ant, you may also consider the type of circumstantial adjunct being used (see Halliday0s Introduction, pp. 8%;=8''H 8'@=8:8H ):4=&4 for more details. "on2Standard English • The /…=f†=#=+=" structure may also be disrupted because non=standard Rnglish or a non=nati!e !ariety of Rnglish is used. In relation to this, you may ask yourself about the stylistic significance of the use of the !ariety of Rnglish through the disruption of the /…=f†=#=+=" pattern5 for e$ample, o whether the clausal patterning in the te$t is a faithful representation of the clausal patterns e$isting in the !ariety, o whether this de!iation is only an imitation which aims at a stylistic appro$imation, o whether the writer == in disrupting the clausal pattern == thinks too much about hisLher audience in making the !ariety of Rnglish 6palatable0 to the reader, etc. T&'nsiti"it( Transitivity is normally understood as the grammatical feature which indicates if a !erb takes a direct object. *y now, you should know !ery well that if the !erb • takes a direct ob4ect, then it is described as transiti!e, and • it is called intransitive if it does notH • an e$tension of this concept is the di<transitive verb, which takes both a direct and an indirect object. This traditional notion of transiti!ity is used in Halliday0s article on Gilliam Golding0s The 8nheritors, which is mentioned in the last section. 4alliday:s Approach The concept of transitivity which is found in Halliday0s Introduction howe!er, represents a further de!elopment of the concept. In Halliday0s conception in his Introduction to ?unctional Grammar, whether a !erb takes or does not take a direct ob4ect is not a prime consideration. Halliday0s conception is also useful for stylistic analysis, and will be e$plained further in this and the ne$t sections. Howe!er, the traditional conception of transitivity does continue to be useful in stylistic analysis, and it may thus be worthwhile to indicate the connection between the two approaches to transitivity, which we ha!e done in this section. In the concept of transiti!ity found in Halliday0s Introduction, there are three components of what Halliday calls a transitivity process5 I. the process itself II. participants in the process III. circumstances associated with the process • The process is realized by a !erbal group, • the participant6s7 by (a nominal group(s (although, as noted later, there may be e$ceptions here, and • the circumstance6s7 by (an ad!erbial group(s or prepositional phrase(s, as illustrated in Halliday0s Table K(8 in the earlier editions and Table K() in the third, which is gi!en below5 Table 885 Typical unction o group and phrase classes type o ele$ent: typically reali7ed by: (i process (ii participant (iii circumstance !erbal group nominal group ad!erbial group or prepositional phrase In relation to the abo!e, it may also be useful to !iew the elements of the clause not only in terms of groups and phrases, but also in terms of the /=#=+=" structure, as illustrated below5 Table 8) the student reads the book carefully in the library participant process participant circumstance circumstance (transiti+ity) nominal group !erbal group nominal group ad!erbial group prepositional phrase (class) /ubject #redicator +omplement "djunct "djunct (clause structure) "s you may know from my pre!ious sections, the sub4ect and predicator are the most likely elements to appear in a clause. Ge may also note that the e$istence of the complement depends on the usage of either a transitive verb or an intensive verb which re-uires a nominal group or ad4ective L adjecti!e phrase following it. The presence or absence of the complement may in turn determine whether there are one or two participants in the clause, in the sense that (in most cases • if there is no complement, there is one participant, and • if there is one complement, there are two participants. The presence of the circumstantial ad4unct, as we mentioned in the pre!iously, depends on the le!el of description needed by the speakerLwriter of the clause. Ge may note here that the circumstantial ad4uncts are also of concern in Hallidayan transiti!ity analysis. The possibilities in the con!entional distinction between transiti!e and intransiti!e !erbs, in relation to Halliday0s analysis of transiti!ity are illustrated in the e$amples below. (<.*.5 6(i0 indicates an intransiti!e !erb, whereas 6(t0 indicates a transiti!e !erb. If a number is added to a participant, 6h8i0 refers to the first participant, whereas 6h)i0 refers to the second participant. Table 8% (a the boy runs6i7 #articipant #rocess /ubject #redicator Table 8% (b the boy kicks6t7 the ball #articipant h8i #rocess #articipant h)i /ubject #redicator +omplement Table 8% (c the boy runs6i7 on the road #articipant #rocess +ircumstance fLT3f trg /ubject #redicator "djunct Table 8% (d the boy kicks6t7 the ball on the field #articipant h8i #rocess #articipant h)i +ircumstance /ubject #redicator +omplement "djunct The Si% Processes in 4alliday:s Approach to Transiti+ity The si$ processes in!ol!ed in Halliday0s approach to transiti!ity are best illustrated in Table K(); from the third edition, which is reproduced with a slight modification below5 the round brackets indicate that the second participant which they enclose is optional. Table 8' Process type Category $eaning Participants3 directly in+ol+ed Participants3 obli=uely in+ol+ed $aterial action e!ent 6doing0 6doing0 6happening0 "ctor, (Goal 2ecipient, +lientH /copeH InitiatorH "ttribute beha+ioural 6beha!ing0 *eha!er *eha!iour $ental: perception affect cognition 6sensing0 6sensing0 6feeling0 6thinking0 /enser, #henomenon +erbal 6saying0 /ayer, TargetL2ecipient 2ecei!er, Aerbiage relational: attribution identification 6attributing0 6attributing0 6identifying0 Token, Aalue +arrier, "ttribute Identified, Identifier "ttributor, *eneficiary, "ssigner e%istential 6e$isting0 R$istent <ote on learning the abo!e table m ?or the sake of simplicity, you may want to concentrate on the first column initially, followed by the second (which in a way e$plains the first, then the third. ]ou should go to the fourth column only when you are clear about the two earlier columns. &ome /urther ?bservations on the Above Table 7ne of the things one can notice when one looks at the abo!e table is the number of 6direct7 participants in!ol!ed for each of the processes5 • *eha!ioural and e$istential processes ha!e only one participant each. • The other processes may ha!e two. • Ge can also note that the second participants of material and relational processes may or may not be present. Ge can note two further points5 • ?irstly, the participants are usually represented by nominal groups, and • /econdly, processes with single participants make use of intransitive verbs, whilst those with two participants make use of transitive verbs (e$cept for relational processes which make use of intensive verbs. Passi+i7ation and Participant Positions "s you know, most clauses with transiti!e !erbs may be passi!ized. ?or our purpose here, passivi-ation changes the roles of the participantsA • the second participant becomes the sub4ect, whilst • the first participant becomes the ad4unct, as illustrated below. This indicates an important difference between Halliday0s conception of the subject in the analysis of mood and modality, and his conception of the actor in transiti!ity analysis5 • The actor (or first participant and sub4ect occur in the same position only in the acti!e !oice. • In the passi!e !oice, they occur in different positions. "s we can see below, the actor or /irst 0articipant is realized • by the &ub4ect in the acti!e !oice and • by the Ad4unct in the passi!e !oice. The passi!e !oice, as you know, may also gi!e rise to the stylistically interesting phenomenon of agent deletion, where the actor or /irst 0articipant is not indicated, as in the clause 6the ghost has been seen0, which does not indicate who has or ha!e seen the ghost. Table 8K a) Acti+e ,oice b) Passi+e ,oice the boy saw the ghost the ghost was seen by the boy #articipantVHW #rocess #articipantVOW #articipantVOW #rocess #articipantVHW Sub@ect Predicator Co$ple$ent Sub@ect Predicator Ad@unct *eha+ioural Process It should be mentioned here that behavioural processes stand between material and mental processes. #artly as a result of this, some of you may find it difficult to distinguish • between beha!ioural process !erbs and material process !erbs on the one hand, and • between beha!ioural process !erbs and mental process !erbs on the other. "s a rule of thumb, a beha!ioural process !erb is • intransiti!e (it has only one participant and • indicates an acti!ity in which both the physical and mental aspects are inseparable and indispensable to it. 'ental Process Ge should also note that a mental process is either • transiti!e, or alternati!ely, • the target of the mental acti!ity indicated by the !erb is either implicit, or mentioned in the adjunct that follows the !erb. Thus if a !erb that describes sensing, feeling or thought is transiti!e, there is a !ery good likelihood that it is a mental, and not a behavioural process !erb. 'aterial Process Baterial process !erbs, like mental process !erbs, can either be transiti!e or intransiti!e. If a !erb which describes physical action is transiti!e, it is !irtually definite that it is a material, and not a beha!ioural process !erb. ?or intransiti!e !erbs, one way to determine whether an action is a material or beha!ioural process is to look at the actor5 • If the first participant of the intransiti!e !erb denoting physical action is non=human, it is usually a material process !erb. • If the first participant of the intransiti!e !erb is human, the process is o material if the !erb is decidedly actional, or o beha!ioural if the !erb is not only actional, but in some way dependent on the person0s emoti!e, sensory or cogniti!e responses as well. The Relational Process 7f all the processes, the relational process is the one which may present you with the greatest difficulty. "ccording to Halliday, there are three types of relational processes5 (G) intensi+e 6( is a0 (2) circu$stantial 6( is at a0 (H) possessi+e 6( has a0 The abo!e three types come in two modes5 (i) attributi+e 6a is an attribute of (0 (ii) identiying 6a is the identity of (0 The si$ possible classifications of relational processes in terms of modes and types are gi!en below5 Table 8: $ode (i) attributi+e (ii) identiying type (G) intensi+e the performance is great Br "li is the #resident the #resident is Br "li (2) circu$stantial the lecture is on a Gednesday today is the eighteenthH the eighteenth is today (H) possessi+e Iohn has two motorcycles the two motorcycles are Iohn0s Iohn0s are the two motorcycles Ge can note from the abo!e that5 • In the attributi!e mode, an attribute is ascribed to an entity, whereas in the identifying mode, an entity is used to identify another. • "ccording to Halliday, clauses in the attributi!e mode cannot be passi!ized, whereas those in the identifying mode can be5 to him, passi!ization occurs when the participants of a clause in the identifying mode are re!ersed, as illustrated in the abo!e table. The re!ersibility of the participants is an important grammatical factor which distinguishes them from clauses of the attributi!e mode. Gith regard to the types of relational processes, • the intensive type establishes a relationship of sameness between two entitiesH • the circumstantial type defines the entity in terms of location, time, manner etc.H whilst • the possessive type (as its name implies indicates that one entity owns another. ?urther e$amples of the relational process modes and their types are gi!en in tables 8; and 8& below which are adapted from Halliday0s ?igures K=@ and K=84, found in his first edition. The second and third editions ha!e more e$amples, and you may find that reading about relational processes from them is generally easier than in the first edition Table 8;5 Attributi+e Clauses attribute o: =uality (intensi+e) Iohn is L looks great circu$stance (circu$stantial) #rof Halliday the celebrations was last in the lecture theatre all day possession (possessi+e) the computer "hmad is L belongs has "hmad0s L to "hmad a computer Carrier Process Attribute Table 8&5 Identiying Clauses identiication by: to8en2+alue (intensi+e) "h +hong 3a!id Garrick is played the teacher Hamlet circu$stance (circu$stantial) yesterday his gold was takes up the twentieth the entire bo$ possession (possessi+e) the piano #eter is owns #eter0s the piano Identiied Process Identiier Circu$stantial Ad@uncts +losely associated with transitivity are the circumstantial adjuncts, which together with the processes, and transiti!ity itself, ha!e to do with the ideational metafunction of language. (]ou will also realize later, that the circumstantial adjuncts are important in theme<rheme analysis, as they, unlike the other adjuncts, carry topical weight, and a circumstantial adjunct is regarded as the topical theme itself if it is fronted. The following table, which is found only in the second edition of Halliday0s Introduction hTable K(@i, is -uite useful in telling us about the types of circumstantial adjuncts a!ailableH the third edition has a more elaborate table hTable K()&i5 you are ad!ised to take a look at it. /ee pp. 8%;=''H 8'@=:8H )K@=&4 of Halliday0s Introduction for a further elaboration on the nature of these adjuncts. Table 8@5 Types o circu$stantial ele$ent Type Speciic categories (subtypes) 8 R$tent distant, duration ) 1ocation place, time % Banner means, -uality, comparison ' +ause reason, purpose, behalf K +ontingency condition, concession, default : "ccompaniment comitation, addition ; 2ole guise, product & Batter @ "ngle ThemeDRheme H Gi"enDNe! Ge will be dealing with the concepts of theme<rheme and given<new in this section. It is perhaps appropriate for one to mention at the outset that the term theme here is used -uite differently from the way it is generally understood in literary analysis. Ghen it is used in relation to the term rheme, it is a more technical grammatical term. The &/0+A arrangement In relation to its meaning here, we ha!e noted in earlier section that 6there is no necessity for the &ub4ect</inite<0redicator<+omplement<Ad4unct pattern to be present in the gi!en order in a simple declarati!e clause in the acti!e !oice0. In the e$amples below, which ha!e been used earlier, the italicised elements are the themati-ed elements. i. 68 am writing handouts for my students0, ii. 6/or my students, I am writing handouts0, iii. 6"andouts I am writing for my students0. • The sub4ect in i, • the circumstantial adjunct in ii, and • the complement in iii are the themes of their respecti!e clauses. The$e2rhe$e Table )4 Theme Rheme I (/ubject am writing handouts for my students ?or my students, (+ircumstantial "djunct I am writing handouts Handouts (+omplement I am writing for my students Ge ha!e also noted that e!erything else which follows the theme in a single clause is the rheme. In other words, the rhemes of the abo!e clauses are formed by all the other constituents which follow • the sub4ect 6I0 in e$ample i, • the circumstantial adjunct 6?or my students0 in e$ample ii, and • the complement 6Handouts0 in e$ample iii. The sub4ect, circumstantial ad4unct, and complement, when they are fronted, are all known as topical themes. The term topical theme is used in order to distinguish it from the two other types of themes which we will mention later. 'ar8ed E In$ar8ed "nother obser!ation made in the earlier section is that the italicised constituents in ii and iii are less commonly thematized than that in i, as it is more likely for the sub4ect rather than the ad4unct or complement of a declarati!e clause to be thematized. In this regard, we ha!e made the obser!ation that • the theme of clause i (the sub4ect is unmarked, while • the themes of clauses ii and iii (non<sub4ects are marked. Ge ha!e also noted that due to the fact that instances of thematized complements in declarati!e clauses are less common than those in which circumstantial ad4uncts are themati-ed, the former is sometimes described as being more marked than the latter. Signiicance o the Topical The$e Ge mentioned abo!e that5 • The circumstantial ad4unct, if it is put right at the beginning of a sentence, is the topical theme of a clause. • Howe!er, the modal and con4unctive ad4uncts cannot be the topical theme, e!en if they are fronted. o The fronted modal adjunct is known as (or as being part of, after its metafunctional affiliation, the interpersonal theme of the clause. o 1ikewise, the fronted con4unctive ad4unct, is known as (or as being part of, after its metafunctional affiliation, the te(tual theme of the clause. The circumstantial ad4unct, like the sub4ect and the complement, but unlike the modal and con4unctive ad4uncts, refers to the content of what is being described by the clause (hence the 6topic0 of the clause. • In technical terms, this means that if a circumstantial ad4unct is fronted, e!erything else which follows the adjunct is the rheme. • *ut this is not the case with the modal and con4unctive ad4uncts when they are thematized. If the modal or con4unctive ad4unct is thematized, one needs to wait for the appearance of the topical theme (which as stated abo!e can be the sub4ect, complement or circumstantial adjunct, before one can draw the line of demarcation between the theme and the rheme. The line of demarcation between theme and rheme is thus in!ariably drawn between the end of the topical theme and before the beginning of the ne$t constituentH the ne$t constituent is the initiator of the rheme. Other The$es "s regards the two other types of theme, we ha!e to note that the interpersonal theme is not restricted to the modal adjunct. • 7ther than the modal adjunct, • the vocative, • finite !erb or • !"<interrogative element is also considered as (or as part of the interpersonal theme if it appears before the topical theme. The same is true of the te(tual theme, which is not restricted to • the con4unctive ad4unct, as • the continuative or • the structural element (which is a conjuncti!e or GH=relati!e can also appear as, or as part of, the te(tual theme. Themes 'nd Thei& Met'+)ncti#ns The constituents of the !arious types of themes are con!eniently described in the table below from Halliday0s Introduction. R$planations of the terms which ha!e not been defined in an earlier section, or of problems which may arise with Halliday0s classification, follow the table. Table )85 The 'etaunctional Relationships o The$atic Constituents (Taken from p. K' of Halliday0s 8ntroduction hslightly different !ersion on p. ;@i. 2efer to pp. RS<XYH JK2LJH ;@=&; of the book for a more detailed e$planation $etaunction co$ponent o the$e te%tual continuati!eˆ structural (conjuncti!e or GH=relati!en conjuncti!e (adjunct interpersonal !ocati!e‰ modal (adjunct finite (!erb GH=interrogati!en ideational topical (subject, complement, or circumstantial adjunct nThe GH=element in a relati!e or interrogati!e clause, as it can function entirely as or as part of the subject, complement or adjunct, can also be (or be part of the topical theme. There is a conflation of the topical theme with either the interpersonal theme (in relation to the GH=interrogati!e or te$tual theme (in relation to the GH=relati!e when this happens. Ge may further specify that if the GH=element functions entirely as the subject, complement or adjunct, then there is a complete conflation of the topical and either the interpersonal or te$tual theme. Howe!er, if the GH=element functions together with other elements to form the subject, complement or adjunct, then the conflation of the topical and another theme occurs only in relation to the GH=element. ˆ+ontinuati!es are defined by Halliday as consisting of 6a small set of items such as yes, no, well, oh, now0H these items are used to signal initiating or continuing mo!es in interacti!e discourse. ‰" !ocati!e is an optional nominal in interacti!e discourse which clearly signals to the person or persons concerned, that the clause refers to himLherLthem. 'ultiple The$e "s noted earlier, a topical theme can appear together with the interpersonal or te(tual theme, if elements which belong to either the interpersonal or te(tual theme appear before the topical theme. If this happens, then we ha!e what is known as a multiple theme. " useful e$ample of a clause with a multiple theme is found on p. KK of Halliday0s Introduction (see p. &8 for a slightly different !ersion5 Table )) well but then "nn surely Gouldn0t the best idea be to join the groupJ continuati!e structural conjuncti!e !ocati!e modal finite topical Rhe$e te$tual interpersonal e$periential The$e 0i+en and "e# Inor$ation 7ne of the ways by which the analysis of theme<rheme can be useful to stylistic analysis, is through its combination with an analysis of given and new information. It may be helpful to refer to what Halliday says in relation to given and new information on p. );;H )@&H @8 of his 8ntroduction here. To Halliday, 6the significant !ariable0 as far as given and new information are concerned, is5 information that is presented by the speaker as reco!erable (Gi!en or not reco!erable (<ew to the listener. Ghat is treated as reco!erable may be so because it has been mentioned beforeH but that is not the only possibility. It may be something that is in the situation, like 8 and youH or in the air, so to speakH or something that is not around at all but that the speaker wants to present as Civen for rhetorical purposes. The meaning is5 this is not news. 1ikewise, what is treated as non=reco!erable may be something that has not been mentionedH but it may be something une$pected, whether pre!iously mentioned or not. The meaning is5 attend to thisH this is news. Ge would like to mention here that our approach to given and new information in this course, as it is concentrated on written and not spoken language, will be more psychological and less phonological than Halliday0s. The significance of the combination of given<new and theme<rheme in stylistic analysis is we think, best illustrated by how clarity and smoothness in the style of writing are achie!ed by the coincidence of given information with each of the themes of the !arious clauses in a passage which will be gi!en during the section. *ranching " sentence with the subordinate clause as theme is also known in linguistics as a left< branched sentence (i.e. 6dependent clause == dominant clause0. " left= branched sentence is a marked construction. The dependent clause is in an unmarked position (i.e. the position it usually occurs in if it is located after the dominant clause (i.e. 6dominant clause == dependent clause0. This is called a right<branched construction. "nother possibility is the mid<branched construction, whereby a dependent clause is inserted within the dominant clause (for e$ample, 6The ring, which I ha!e spoken to you about, is missing05 i.e. 6dominant clause == …dependent clause† == dominant clause0. If you are interested in reading further on the idea of branching in stylistic analysis and in composition, you can refer to pp. 888= 88& of Galter <ash0s 3esigns in #rose (1ondon5 1ongman, 8@&4. Elliptical The$e "n elliptical theme (sometimes also described as ellipted or ellipsed is one which is not physically found at the thematic position of the clause, but which has to be included in a grammatical analysis. " familiar e$ample of an elliptical theme is the deleted subject in the secondary clause of a coordinate construction, which has the same reference as the subject of the primary clause (this is known in generati!e grammar as e-ui=<# deletion. ?or instance, the secondary clause of the line 6Iack fell down and broke his crown0 has an elliptical theme which should be included in grammatical analysis5 Table )% and hIacki broke his crown Te%tual The$e Topical The$e (Elliptical) Rhe$e There are also themes which are ellipted because of stylistic or poetic reasons, apart from, or perhaps in addition to, the grammatical (or logical reasons noted abo!e, and the cohesi!e reasons which we will discuss in the ne$t two sections. The ellipses which are apparent in Iudith Gright0s 6/ilence0, for instance, are e!idently there for stylistic and poetic reasons, and the possibilities for their analysis pro!ide students with !arious ways to interpret the poem. ?or e$ample, one student may consider the elliptical theme to be 6I0 in 6hI shall stand oni L The silence between this and the ne$t breath0, whilst another may consider the elliptical elements in the poem as not operating in the theme but in the rheme, as in 6The silence his thati between this and the ne$t breath0, and so on. Paragraph The$e The idea of paragraph theme, although not discussed by Halliday in the main te$t of chapter three in his Introduction, seems to be an important one, especially in the sample analysis gi!en towards the end of the chapter. His conception of paragraph theme seems to be related to the idea of topic sentence in traditional rhetoric and composition, but this relationship is not indicated by Halliday in his discussion. 7ne difference is that the paragraph theme appears to coincide with the first sentence of the paragraph in Halliday0s usage (just as the theme is the first (ideationally significant constituent in the clause, but this is not necessarily the case with the topic sentence of the paragraph in rhetoric and composition. Thus the paragraph theme may not coincide with the topic sentence. (If you are interested, there is the possibility here for the coincidence of paragraph theme with topic sentence to be described as unmarked, while the non=coincidence is described as marked. Chapter No: 1< PHRASEOLOGY AND STYLISTICS FOCUS ON • Stylistic )ierentiation o (hraseological #nits • !ormal ABoo6ish- (hraseological #nits • !amiliar ColloGuial (hraseological #nits • Slang and Hargon in (hraseological #nits • Neutral (hraseological #nits • "ccasional (hraseological #nits a- (rolongation o occasional phraseological units b- 'nsertion o elements in occasional phraseological units c- Substitution o elements in phraseological units d- (rolongation and substitution e- The authors9 phraseological units • Stylistic !unctions o (hraseological #nits " phraseological unit (#Q is ,a block longer than one word, yet functioning as a whole. It is a semantically and structurally integral le$ical collocation, partially or completely different from the meaning of its components.. (". Funin Its main characteristic feature is that its meaning can0t be inferred from the sum of its components because each #Q is characterized by a certain degree of cohesion or semantic integrity. The main features of #Q are stability, semantic integrity and ready<made nature. There e$ist different classifications of #Q. "ccording to I. 2. Galperin0s classification of the Rnglish !ocabulary all the #Q can be subdi!ided into neutral, literary and non< literary #Q. "eutral PI '(*A #to let the cat out of the bagE, #ups and downE, #at the eleventh hourE* Idioms and set e$pressions impart local colouring to the te$t and make it sound more e$pressi!e. '(*A +ome on, Roy, let’s go and shake the dust of this place for goodD ("ldridge ( +f. l let us go and leave this place for ever* (/krebne!, )444 /ome of them are ele!ated5 an earthly paradise, to breathe one’s lastF to play fiddle while Rome burns* "mong the ele!ated #Q we can discern5 a archais$s ( to play upon ad!antage (to swindle, the iron in one0s soul (the permanent embittermentH b *oo8ish phrases == ?ormal (bookish #Q5 ,to breathe one0s last (to dieH ,The debt of nature. (death, Gordian knot (a complicated problemH c !oreign PI ( a propos de bottes (unconnected with the preceding remark, bon mot (a witty word. /ome are5 a Subne2utral or a$iliar collo=uial PI == to rain cats and dogs, to be in one0s cups (9to be drunk, big bug, small fry, ali!e and kicking, a pretty kettle of fish. b Aargon PI ( a loss leader (an article sold below cost. c Old slang PI ( to be nuts about, to kick the bucket, to hop the twig (to die. 7ccasional #Q are based on the following cases of !iolation of the fi$ed structure of a #Q5 a Prolongation5 ,He was born with a sil!er spoon in a mouth which was rather curly and large.. (Galsworthy b Insertion5 ,He had been standing there nearly two hours, shifting from foot to unaccustomed foot.. (Galsworthy c Substitution5 ,to talk pig (shop.. d Prolongation and substitution5 ,They spoiled their rods, spared their children and anticipated the results in enthusiasm.. (Galsworthy e The author:s PI5 ,7h, my ears and whiskers. (1. +arrollH ,Too true to be good. (*. /haw, The Gilded "ge (The Golden "ge. Pec)li'& Use #+ Set E3$&essi#ns " cliché is generally defined as an e$pression that has become hackneyed and trite. It has lost its precise meaning by constant reiteration5 in other words it has become stereotyped. +lich> is a kind of stable word combination which has become familiar and which has been accepted as a unit of a language5 e.g. rosy dreams of youth, growing awareness. 0roverbs are short, well=known, supposedly wise sayings, usually in simple language, e.g. <e!er say ne!er. ]ou can0t get blood of a stone. #ro!erbs are e$pressions of culture that are passed from generation to generation. They are words of wisdom of culture == lessons that people of that culture want their children to learn and to li!e by. They are ser!ed as some symbols, abstract ideas. #ro!erbs are usually dedicated and in!ol!e imagery. R.g. 7ut of sight, out of mind. 'pigram is a short cle!er amusing saying or poem. R.g. " thing of beauty is a joy fore!er. Zuotation is a phrase or sentence taken from a work of literature or other piece of writing and repeated in order to pro!e a point or support an idea. They are marked graphically5 by in!erted commas5 dashes, italics5 "ll hope abandon, ye who enter (3ante Allusion is an indirect reference, by word or phrase, to a historical, literary, mythological fact or to a fact of e!eryday life made in the course of speaking or writing. The use of allusion presupposes knowledge of the fact, thing or person alluded to on the part of the reader or listener. ,]ou too, *rutusJ. (/hakespeare 0roverbs, sayings, uotations, allusions and parado(es are based on the interplay of primary and secondary meanings being also a !ariety of occasional #Q5 ,to drop a handkerchief and relations.. 0arado( is a statement which though it appears to be self=contradictory, ne!ertheless in!ol!es truth or at least an element of truth. ( 7. Gilde0s parado$es5 ,It0s simply washing one0s clean linen in public.. 7ccasional #Qs are often used in the language of ad!ertising == 7ur 1o!e is *linds (1o!e is blindH /ofa, /o Goode (/o far, so goodH /mirnoff0s /il!er is for people who want a sil!er lining without the cloud. (R!ery cloud has a sil!er lining. St(listic F)ncti#ns #+ PU a +ompressing informationH ,The Boon and /i$pence., a bird in the hand, birds of feather. b ?oregrounding some elements, creating a comic effect5 to drop a handkerchief and relations. c R$pressing the message of the bookH ,In +hancery., ,To 1et., ,The /il!er /poon.. d Boti!ating the e!ents5 ,Burder is out. in Iolion0s letter to his son. e +haracterizing personages, e!ents, etc.5 ,He was a jolly good fellow5 no side or anything like that, he could ne!er set the Thames on firel they were -uite content to gi!e a leg up to a man who would ne!er climb as high as to be an obstacle to themsel!es..(/. Bau occasional gham f +reating a comic, ironical, satirical effect5 ,"shes to ashes, and clay to clay, if your enemy doesn0t get you, your own folk may.. (I. Thurber Chapter No: 1> THE ENGLISH OF LITERATURE I GENERAL REMARAS FOCUS ON • Literature as Language Art • Literary Language and "rdinary Language • Literary Language as a +ariety Lite&'t)&e 's L'n)'e A&t Bany of us ha!e perhaps had such an e$perience5 when we read something written or printed, we can easily decide whether it is literary or commercial or scientific or officialH we can feel the 6literariness0 of a piece of writing and put the most literary of writings into the category of 6literature0. Then what are the -ualities that tip us off to recognize a te$t as belonging to literature and distinguish it from an ordinary te$tJ Bany people point to the interesting framework which literary te$ts appear in == the forms of poetry, no!els, dramas, etc which writers use and which critics ha!e labelled as genres. 7thers point to the imaginati!e -uality of the linguistic utterance in literary te$ts beyond the use of words to con!ey referential meaning. /till others point to the special use of patterning in literary te$ts that heightens the effect of linguistic utterances. "s is commonly held, one of the most important of -ualities that mark out a te$t as literary is its e$cellence of form and e$pression, its use of language as an art. Though we admit that literary language has the same general functions as non=literary language == to define things, to e$change ideas, to e$press emotions and to transmit messages, the language of literature is not simply used for communication or e!en e$pressionH it is also used as an artistic medium, to create images, to bring out the rich multi=le!el meaning and thematic significance of a literary work. It is just this special artistic trait of literary language that appeals to the reader aesthetically. Hence literature is seen as an art=form5 an art of language. Lite&'&( L'n)'e 'nd O&din'&( L'n)'e "s language art, literature seems to offer a language which is different from the 6normal0 or 6e!eryday0 language of a speech community. If we say that normal use of language tends to be dearly referential, then literary language tends to be richer in its connotations. If we say that e!eryday language tends to perform an informati!e function, then literary language tends to perform an affecti!e function == appealingH more to the emotions of the reader. 1iterary language has been chosen and manipulated with greater care and comple$ity than the a!erage language user either can or wishes to e$ercise5 it contains a higher occurrence of special or de!iant features than non=literary !arieties and also shows a higher incidence of the whole of the resources a!ailable to all the members of a speech community. <e!ertheless, literary language is not unintelligible to the members of that community. Howe!er special, heightened and !alued it may be, it cannot de!iate too far from the e$pectations of the speech community if it is to find any readers at all. 1ike all meaningful use of langue, literature contains a great deal of 6common core0 which would cause no surprise in any situation, and likewise, its de!iant features can be utilized only in association with 6common core0 features. Bodern linguistics places literary uses of language against the background of more 6ordinary0 uses of it, so that we see the poet or no!elist or playwright making use of the same code, the same set of communicati!e resources, as the journalist, the scientist, or the garden wall gossip. 1inguistics has taught us that e!en in its mundane uses, language is immensely comple$, rich and !ariable. It is unthinkable that the literary artist should cut himLherself adrift from the all=embracing role that language has in our e!eryday li!es. "ctually, literary e$pression is an enhancement, or a creati!e emancipation of the resources of language which we use from day to day. <ot only the no!elist and the playwright aim at a !i!id reproduction of e!eryday language, whether polite or familiar, elegant or rude, formal or informalLcollo-uial, so as to depict the socio=economic status and disposition of hisLher characters. ?or instance, 3ickens does his best with /arah Gamp0s special brand of cockney5 Ge ne!er knows wot0s written in each other0s heartsH and if we had glass winders there, we0d need to keep the shetters up, some on us, I do assure youe ==== Bartin +huzzlewit 3. H. 1awrence0s presentation of the dialogue between husband and wife makes the reader see their difference in educational background and sentiments, and hence the una!oidable clashes between them5 6Ghat are you doing, clumsy, drunken foolJ0 the mother cried. 6Then tha should get the flamin0 thing, thysen. Tha should get up, like other women ha!e to, an0 wait on a man0. 6Gait on you=walt on youJ0 she cried, 6yes, I see myself0. 6]is. "n0 I0ll learn thee tha0s got to. Gait on me, yes, tha sh0 It wait on me k6 6<e!er, milord, I0d wait on the dog at the door first0. ==== /ons and 1o!ers Bany poets will also use 6language such as men do speak0 (Gilliam Gordsworth. /ee the language of the following poem by +hristopher Barlowe5 +ome li!e with me and be my lo!e, "nd we will all the pleasures pro!e That hills and !alleys, dale and field, "nd all the craggy mountains yield. There we will sit upon the rocks "nd see the shepherds feed their flocks, *y shallow ri!ers, to whose falls, Belodious birds sing madrigals. ==== The #assionate /hepherd to His 1o!e Bodern poets can e!en manage to reproduce the local or social fla!our of e!eryday language. Take "merican poet 1angston Hughes0 poem5 Ghere is that sugar, Hammond, I sent you this morning to buyJ I say, where is that sugar I sent you this morning to buyJ +offee without sugar Bakes a good woman cry. I ain0t got no sugar, Hattie, I gambled your dime away. "in0t got no sugar, I 3one gambled that dime away. If you0s a wise woman, Hattie, ]ou ain0t, gonna ha!e nothin to say. ====Rarly R!ening Xuarrel ]et the literary writer does not simply copy e!eryday language. 2ather heLshe will refine the raw linguistic materials gathered from actual life and put them in the literary te$t with singular economy and compression. "s a result, whate!er is there in the literary language at all is there with a pointH e!en the most tri!ial=looking language in a literary te$t con!eys much more than its literal meaning, and thus e$erts an aesthetic impact on those who read it. In the abo!e=-uoted poem, the remark Ghere is that sugar, ... I sent you this morning to buyJ is repeated. This repetition is not done without purpose. It presents us with a scene in which the wife an$iously asks the -uestion while her guilty husband is not yet ready to respond. 3orothy #arker0s story 4ere .e Are begins like this5 6Gelle0 the young man said. 6Gelle0 she said. 6Gell, here we are0, he said. 6Here we are0, she said. 6"ren0t weJ0 6I should say we were0, he said. 6Reyop. Here we are0. 6Gelle0 she said. 6Gelle0 he said. 6Gell. How does it feel to be an old married ladyJ0 This dialogue does not gi!e any information. *ut it depicts to the reader how embarrassed the two newlyweds are by their situation. /ometimes literary language, especially the language of poetry can appear sharply different from ordinary language. This is because the writer, especially the poet, consciously endea!ours to be creati!e in using the language. *y being 6creati!e0, we mean the original use of the established possibilities of the language, and the creation of new communicati!e possibilities which are not in the language. ?or a writer, especially a poet, the -uestion of whether to obey the rules of language or not is a matter of choice. Ge earlier -uoted 3ylan Thomas0 phrase 6a grief ago0 (see The /tylistic +oncern as a typical case of linguistic de!iation in poetry. Here is another5 5ho Are you 5ho is born 'n the ne;t room So loud to my own Bost literary te$ts, howe!er, will show selection and arrangement of established linguistic possibilities that contribute to their total aesthetic effect. #oetry shows such patterning de!ices as meter, rhyme, assonance, alliterationH prose may contain similar de!ices though less regularly arranged. *oth types will ha!e careful and often une$pected selection and arrangement of words and syntactic construction. Qse of !arious figurati!e language will gi!e unusual prominence to certain items. Take the beginning of 1ondon /now by 2obert *ridges for instance5 Ghen men were all asleep the snow came flying, In large white flakes falling on the city brown, /tealthily and perpetually settling and loosely lying, Hushing the latest traffic of the drowsy townH 3eadening, muffling, stifling its murmurs failingH 1azily and incessantly floating down and down5 /ilently sifting and !eiling road, roof and railingH Hiding difference, making une!enness e!en, Into angles and cre!ices softly drifting and sailing. "s readers we cannot help being impressed by the refined simplicity and the perfection of form throughout the poem. The selecti!e use of words with long !owels and diphthongs (Li5L, LouL, LeiL, LaiL, La5L, Lo5L, LauL, Lu5L, Lo5L, and the application of 6soft0 consonants (LlL, LnL,LJL, LfL,LsL to words with short !owels (LeL, LJL, LiL, contribute to the tran-uility of the silent falling of soft snow. The iambic pentameter and the recurrence of double rhymes ( a b a, b c b, c d c add to the soothing and restful effect of snowing. These combinations and echoing of sound effects seem to con!erge into a sonata == an artistic treat of perfect harmony. Ge are filled with admiration for the author as a master of Rnglish prosody. Lite&'&( Enlish 's ' V'&iet( 1iterature is the art of language. It uses language to create images to reflect social life and the mind and feelings of the author. It can mimic all aspects of human e$perience == both linguistic and non=linguistic e$perience. Thus in a literary te$t, pieces of different !arieties such as daily con!ersation, political speech, news reporting, legal procedure etc can co= occur, and features from any other !arieties can be made use of for particular effects. Boreo!er, different genres ha!e different frameworks, and different writers ha!e different features of singularity. /o it seems that there is no such thing as a homogeneous !ariety of literature, as parallel to legal, news reporting, public speaking or con!ersational !arieties. ]et there is !alue in attempting to treat it as one. ?or in spite of its ability to reflect all walks of human life and the numerous subject matters that it touches, its o!erall function is the same == it performs the aesthetic function, though its different genres may be inclined either to didactic or entertaining or e$pository functions as well. "nd in spite of the !arious frameworks in which it appears, and the di!ersity of indi!idual usage of its writers, there are some factors that are common to te$ts of all genres by all writers. 1ike other registers, literary genres are describable in terms of the categories of the language5 phonology, graphology, grammar, le$is, and semantics. The aim of the linguistic analysis is to characterize and interpret the genre in -uestion. It is necessary to pay close attention to particular writers. *ut in the present study, e$amples from them will be used as e!idence for general characteristics of the genres. Chapter No: 20 THE LANGUAGE OF FICTION FOCUS ON • Manipulation o Semantic *oles • Creation o 'mages and Symbols • (reerence in )iction • Artistic Manipulation o Sentence +ariety and *hythm • 2mployment o +arious (oints o +iew • The Subtle 5or6ings o Authorial Tones • +arious 5ays o (resenting Speech and Thought The language of fiction is used to con!ey the 6mock reality0 of a no!el. It is a special case of the ordinary referential, truth=reporting function of language, e$ploited in creating a fictional uni!erse to increase our knowledge and understanding of the real e$ternal world. Bany no!els ha!e been made !ery objecti!ely 6true to life0 and ha!e earned such labels as 6realism0 and 6naturalism0. Howe!er, this kind of creation is ob!iously different from the factual reporting of, say, a detecti!e. " no!el like Qpton /inclair0s The ;ungle can be much more and also much less than a report based on official interrogation and weighing of e!idence. Buch more, because the no!el incorporates the author0s desire to touch the emotions of the readers, to cause shock to them and to persuade them into actionH much less, because the 6facts0 in the no!el are selected and arranged in a way that does not totally reproduce a !erifiable situation. Here the -uality of 6imagination0, one of the distinguishing marks of literary te$ts comes into ser!ice. Qnlike scientific language, imaginati!e writing is less concerned with the precision and the colourlessness of denotative words and objecti!e truths than with creating a !i!id impression of a person, place or object by a careful selection and orderly presentation of a number of !isual and other sensual details, though fiction has much to do with narration. "s with the treatment of non=literary !arieties of Rnglish, we shall gi!e an account of some salient features of the language of fiction within a functional framework. 7ur attention will be di!ided between three different aspects of a literary work5 l work as message, corresponding to the ideational function of languageH ) work as te$t, corresponding to the te$tual function of languageH and % work as discourse, corresponding to the interpersonal function of language. (see 1eech and /hort, 8@&8 ?or work as message, we shall e$amine the way in which language conceptualizes the fiction, chiefly the way the author manipulates semantic roles so as to slant us towards a particular 6mental set0, and the author0s creation of images and symbols. ?or work as te$t, we shall e$amine the way in which language presents the fiction in linear and coherent form, especially the author0s preferences for diction, syntactic !ariety and rhythm. ?or work as discourse, we shall e$amine the ways in which language represents the fiction through the social dimension of language use5 i.e. through the relation between author and reader, and through the interchange of fictional speakers and hearers, mainly the author0s employment of !arious points of !iew, the subtle workings of authorial tone, and the !arious ways of presenting speech and thought. M'ni$)l'ti#n #+ Sem'ntic R#les The concept of semantic roles (such as "gent, #atient, Instrument, etc is of interest and !alue in the analysis of narrati!es. <arrators and characters can be seen to be acti!e instigators as 6"gents0 or passi!e recei!ers of an action as 6#atients0. 7ne of the ways writers present a particular !iew of the world is by consistently choosing particular kinds of role structures o!er others. /o e$amination of these role structures can re!eal a lot about how narratorsLcharacters percei!e the world. Halliday0s (8@;8 analysis of the style of Gilliam Golding0s no!el The 8nheritors is e$tremely re!ealing. The 8nheritors tells the story of a small group of <eanderthal people whose world is in!aded by a more ad!anced group. ?or the major part of the book, the reader percei!es the acti!ities of the <eanderthal people through their !iew of the world and of the new in!aders. Then there is a transitional passage, leading to a short final section in which the world is seen from the !iew point of the in!aders, the 6inheritors0 of the title. This final world !iew is recognizable as that of modern man. Through an analysis of passages from all three sections, Halliday demonstrates that the shift in world !iew is effected largely through choices from ideational systems of transitivity == a term which, for Halliday, comprehends relations between !erbs, nominal groups and ad!erbials in the clause. "nalysis of the first passage shows !ery con!incingly that, through his choice of transiti!ity relations, Golding presents the world as filtered through the limited understanding of the <eanderthal people, represented by 1ok. The bushes twitched again. 1ok steadied by the tree and gazed.L " head and a chest faced him, half=hidden.L There were white bone things behind the lea!es and hair.L The man had white bone things abo!e his eyes and under the mouth so that his face was longer than a face should be.L The man turned sideways in the bushes and looked at 1ok along his shoulder.L " stick rose upright and there was a lump of bone in the middle.L 1ok peered at the stick and the lump of bone and the small eyes in the bone things o!er the face.L /uddenly 1ok understood that the man was holding the stick out to him but neither he nor 1ok could reach across the ri!er.L He would ha!e laughed if it were not for the echo of the screaming in his head.L The stick began to grow shorter at both ends.L Then it shot out to full length again.L The dead tree by 1ok0s ear ac-uired a !oice.L 6+lope0 His ear twitched and he turned to the tree.L Here a man is trying to shoot 1ok with an arrow. ]et the uncomprehending 1ok does not know what is happening. He has no sense of cause and effectH of mind controlling matter. 1inguistically this is shown in 1ok0s limited language, which is characterized by its paucity of clauses with a #atient (6Goal0 in Halliday0s term or clauses with a human subject as "gent (6"ctor0 in Halliday0s term . Thus instead of 6The man raised his bow and arrow0, we ha!e 6" stick rose upright0H instead of 6He drew his bow0, we ha!e 6The stick began to grow shorter at both ends0. In other words, what in our own world !iew would in!ol!e directed action or causation are presented as intransiti!e. This limitation in language, particularly in the area of 6transiti!ity0 realizes the limited pattern of cognition, which, in turn, is the key to the tragic !ision of the no!el. "nalysis of a passage from the end of the book re!eals a !ery different picture5 most of the clauses now ha!e a human "ctorL"gent, and the majority of these clauses are transiti!e == i.e. with a GoalL#atient. This effects a !iew of the world in which the principles of cause and effect are recognized. Halliday0s analysis of The 8nheritors is persuasi!e in the way it relates precise linguistic obser!ation to literary effect. It suggests that stylistic significance can be located in the ideational function of language, i.e. in the cogniti!e meaning or sense which used to be o!erlooked in stylistic analysis. The principles articulated in this analysis ha!e been taken up in later work by many other stylisticians. Traugott and #ratt0s (8@&4 analysis of 3aniel 3efoe0s no!el .oll /landers is a case in point. This no!el is a fictional autobiography recounted by a woman who sur!i!es many ups and downs until she ends up a well=to=do and penitent old lady. In her narration, she tends to a!oid speaking of herself as an "gent, but rather prefers to place herself in the roles of '(periencer, 0ossessor, or 0atient. The language she uses suggests a somewhat passi!e character whose e$perience is primarily shaped by outside forces acting upon her. 1ook at the way she describes how, when she ser!es as a companion to the daughters of a well=to=do family, the young ladies0 older brother makes ad!ances to her5 ... then ha!ing me in his "rms he Fiss0d me three or four times.L I struggl0d to get away, and yet did it but faintly neither, and he held me fast, and still Fiss0d me, till he was almost out of *reath, and then sitting down, says, dear *etty I am in 1o!e with you.L His Gords I must confess fir0d my *loodH and all my /pirits flew about my Heart, and put me into 3isorder enough, which he might easily ha!e seen in my ?ace5 He repeated it afterwards se!eral times, that he was in 1o!e with me, and my Heart spoke as plain as a Aoice, that I lik0d itH nay, whene!er he said, I am in 1o!e with you, my *lushes plainly reply0d, wou0d you were /ir.L Ge find that Boll is there to be acted upon by the brother. Ghen she does become an "gent (I struggl0d, she hedges and denies her own "gency. In describing her response to the brother0s embrace, Boll segregates the "gent parts of herself off as distinct from her 6real0 self. Thus the brother0s Gords ("gent fire her *lood (#atient, her /pirits ("gent fly about her Heart (1ocati!e and put her (#atient into 3isorder, her Heart ("gent says she (R$periencer liked it, while it is her *lushes ("gent that reply. It is important to notice here that whate!er passi!ity we may associate with Boll is identifiable with the relati!e semantic passi!ity of being an R$periencer, #ossessor or #atient, a 6passi!ity0 which consists primarily of absence of action, intention and so forth (though in form, syntactic passi!es are rarely used in connection with Boll. This manipulation of semantic roles keeps the reader from losing sympathy with her despite the sordid aspects of her life and encourages the reader to !iew Boll as a !ictim of e$ternal forces and circumstances. C&e'ti#n #+ Im'es 'nd S(m0#ls 2ather than depending primarily on abstract ideas and elaborate reasoning, literary language depends upon the creation of pictures in our minds (called images or imagery, which means images taken collecti!ely, helping us to see things fresh and new, to feel them suggesti!ely through our physical senses, such as hearing, sight, touch, smell and taste. In literature imagery is used to signify all the objects and -ualities of sense perception referred to in a work, whether by literary description, by allusion, or in the analogues used in its metaphors and similes, which is, howe!er, not simply decorati!e but ser!es to re!eal aspects of e$perience in a new lightH or to reinforce theme, setting or characterization. 1iterary language also depends on the use of symbols to amplify meaning. " symbol is something that casts meanings beyond its factual reality == as, for instance the colour of white may be symbolic of purity in one stow and sterility in anotherH or it may, as it does in the whiteness of the whale in Bel!ille0s Boby 3ick, suggest a comple$ range of concepts from the beauty to the horror to the blankness of the whale and nature and di!inity. #oetic symbols are characteristically metaphoric in structure. In no!els symbols may be more diffuse5 almost anything in the story == action, setting and particular objects may be endowed with a more abstract or generalized significance, and so help towards an understanding of the theme of the work as a whole. "s readers we are e$pected to tease out the symbolism and what it stands for from our interpretation of the imagery and from the conte$t. Ghen an image is repeatedly presented in a work, it is likely to ac-uire a symbolic force. ?or instance, 3ickens0 hea!y description of the 1ondon fog in )leak "ouse -uickly turns symbolic of the befogging practices of +hancery. In Iames Ioyce0s Araby, the boy anticipates the bazaar to be a thing of compelling beauty and !eiled allure that outri!als the mundane and ugly of ordinary e$istence. *ut when he finally gets to the bazaar and sees it in all its tawdriness and banality, the magic is no more. The shattering re!elation tarnishes the boy0s world of illusion and romantic imagination. Thus this symbol e$pands and enriches the meaning of the stow beyond that of the disillusionment of a young boy enthralled by romantic fancies5 it symbolizes uni!ersal human hopes and their frustration by reality. /ome stories are so charged with suggesti!e meanings that any attempt to understand them without probing the symbolic o!ertones is doomed. /uch a stow is 3 H 1awrence0s The "orse Dealer’s Daughter, in which the atmosphere of heightened meanings per!ades all things, from the tone set by the hea!y dullness of the beginning, to the imagery surrounding the brackish pond, to the mo!ement from death towards life in the acceptance (reluctant as it may be on the man0s part of the delights, torments and obligations of lo!e. P&e+e&ence in Dicti#n *esides use of images and symbols, prose writers tend to gi!e minute description of a character or an 6e!ent0. The description is either physical, concentrating on things which ha!e spaceLtime e$tension and physical properties such as size, shape, colour, mo!ement, speed, ere, which can be registered by the sensesH or abstract, concentrating on mental and social properties, states and e!ents, which uses words like go!ernment, threat, teacher, be married to, etcH or objecti!e, using adjecti!es like hard, smooth, dark, light, to refer to objecti!e physical attributesH or subjecti!e, when those attributes are percei!ed by the senses5 a thing feels soft, looks large, sounds loud. +ontrast often arises between objecti!e physical description and subjecti!e abstract description. 1eech and /hort (8@&8 points out that /teinbeck0s description of Tom Ioad from The Crapes of !rath, shows a preference for concrete nouns and adjecti!es, and the simple $ be y structure, with a marked absence of morphologically comple$ and abstract nouns and !erbs of perception5 His eyes were !ery dark brown and there was a hint of brown pigment in his eyeballs.L His cheekbones were high and wide, and strong deep lines cut down his cheeks, in cur!es beside his mouth.L His lower lip was long, and since his teeth protruded, the lips stretched to co!er them, for this man kept his lips closed.L His hands were hard, with broad fingers and nails as thick and ridged as little clam shells.L The space between thumb and forefinger and the ham of his hands were shiny with callus.L This contrasts sharply with Henry Iames0 description of Br Grant Iackson from The )irth< place. Their friend, Br Grant=Iackson, a highly preponderant pushing person, great in discussing and arrangement, abrupt in o!erture, une$pected, if not re!erse in attitude, and almost e-ually acclaimed and objected to in the wide midland region to which he had taught, as the phrase was, the size of his foot == their friend had launched his bolt -uite out of the blue and had thereby so shaken them as to make them fear almost more than hope.L which is characterized by highly abstract nouns and adjecti!es and comple$ syntactic embedding, with !irtually no mentioning of Br Grant=Iackson0s physical appearance, but with a great deal about his character, attitude and standing in the world. Ge can see that /teinbeck0s physical description is much more objecti!e than Henry Iames0 abstract description. " writer may gi!e prominence either to physical or abstract, objecti!e or subjecti!e phenomenaH these emphases are simply choices to specify details of one kind and not of another. *ut the repeated use of one kind of choices o!er another will re!eal part of the typical style of an author. ?or writers such as Iane "usten, George Rliot and Henry Iames, the most important realities are on the planes of abstract social, moral and psychological e$istence, whereas for other writers the ultimate reality is that of the physical details, of the properties of things, or that of sensation. A&tistic M'ni$)l'ti#n #+ Sentence V'&iet( 'nd Rh(thm Sentence ,ariety and Length Bore than any other !arieties of language, literary prose makes artistic use of sentence !ariety (simple !s. comple$, periodic !s. loose and length. Generally speaking, a comple$ sentence presents us with a comple$ structure of ideas. It gi!es and withholds information, subordinates some ideas to others more important, coordinates those of e-ual weight and ties into a neat package as many suggestions, modifiers, and asides as the mind can attend to in one stretch (see I *arzun, 8@;K. " succession of one=clause sentences, 7n the other hand, results in e-ual importance for each. " comple$ sentence is not necessarily 6comple$05 If you go out for the day, please feed the cat.L " periodic sentence howe!er, can be really 6comple$0 == characterized by se!eral bound clauses, often embedded one within another. It brings an element of suspense into synta$. Ge are deeply impressed by its dramatic -uality == it builds up tension to a final climactic point of resolution5 The tireless resilient !oice that had just lobbed this singular remark o!er the *ella Aista bar window=sill into the s-uare was, though its owner remained unseen, unthinkable and achingly familiar as the spacious flower=bo$ed balconied hotel itself, and as unreal, ]!onne thought.L == Balcolm 1owry, Qnder the Aolcano Ge are also impressed by its related !irtue of concentrating significance at one point in the sentence it re-uires us to hold all meanings in mind simultaneously until enlightenment comes at the end5 To belie!e your own thought, to belie!e that what is true for you in your pri!ate heart is true for all men == that is genius.L == 2alph Galdo Rmerson " loose sentence, in which the main clause comes first, followed by se!eral subordinate or coordinate clauses, has the -uality of easiness, rela$ation, informality. It makes things easy for the reader, as it does not re-uire the reader to hold in mind e!erything before the end or clima$ finally comes5 " man may destroy e!erything within himself, lo!e and hate and belief, and e!en doubtH but as long as he clings to life he cannot destroy fear5 the fear, subtle, indestructible and terrible, that per!ades his beingH that tinges his thoughtsH that lurks in his heartH that watches on his lips the struggle of his last breath.L == Ioseph +onrad, "n 7utpost of #rogress In this passage, the linear chain of ideas follows the linear progress of the te$t, like a train with its linked wagons mo!ing along a railway track. Griters often use periodic sentences to achie!e rhetorical effect, and loose sentences for natural simplicity and directness. Bany of them make a combined use of the two and thus achie!e a balance between 6art0 and 6nature0. 3epending on the author0s needs, sentences may be long or short. 1ong sentences are capable of e$pressing comple$ ideas with precision, while short sentences are capable of rendering emphasis to a point. 1ong sentences can either build up tension (as the rhetorical sentence in narration or gi!e natural ease to a description (as the loose sentence. " succession of short sentences is well suited to con!ey a built=up feeling. I don0t know why I should write this.L I don0t want to.L I don0t feel able.L "nd I know Iohn would think it absurd.L *ut I must say what I feel and think in some way==it is such a relief.L == +harlotte #erkins Gilman, The ?ellow Gallpaper /entences for description or contemplation are usually longer than sentences for action or decision. In the opening paragraph of Iohn /teinbeck0s ?f .ice and .en, a description of a -uiet bank by a ri!er, for e$ample, there are lines, K sentences5 )l, )), '%, ):, K8 words in length with an a!erage of %).' words per sentence. In the third paragraph, e!erything == wind, rabbits, trees == is in motion and two men enterH there are 88 lines, ; sentences5 8', @, 8', 8&, :, l), )' words in length, the a!erage being 8' words per sentence. " study of Rarnest Hemingway0s The old .an and the &ea points to the same phenomenon. Ghen the no!el describes boat drifting on #%K, there are 8@ lines, & sentences, with an a!erage of )& words per sentence. Ghen on #'%, the fight with fish began, we ha!e l4 lines, K sentences describing the fight, the a!erage length being 8@.: words per sentenceH we ha!e K lines, ) sentences describing thinking, with an a!erage of ); words per sentenceH we ha!e then another K lines, % sentences describing action, which has an a!erage length of 8K words per sentence. The Rhyth$ o Prose Howe!er imperfect the Rnglish writing system, it does represent the sounds of speechH and punctuation, in part, duplicates the roles of stress and intonation in spoken discourse. /o we can often feel in written prose the implicit, 6unspoken0 rhythm, marked usually by punctuation marks. The syntactic units marked by punctuation are the basic unit of analysis for prose rhythm. Ghen the length of syntactic units follows a regular pattern, the te$t seems to progress with a measured dynamic mo!ement, with stressed syllables recurring at roughly e-ual inter!als. Qsually long syntactic units con!ey a rhythmic effect of tran-uillity and leisure, while short syntactic units impart a rhythm of urgency and tension. "ccording to 1eech and /hort (8@&8, when the syntactic units follow a pattern of decreasing length, bringing the effect of an increase of tempo towards a clima$, until the last unit, being longer, rela$es the tension towards a 6dying fall0, as is shown in the passage on the death of #aul 3ombey in 3ickens0 Dombey and &on5 His fancy had a strange tendency to wander to the ri!er, which he knew was flowing through the great cityH and now he thought how black it was, and how deep it would look, reflecting the host of stars and more than all == how steadily it rolled away to meet the sea.L then we feel the air of peaceful solemnity that the author con!eys. If on the other hand, the author tends to use !ery short syntactic units with hea!y punctuation, as is shown in the passage from 3 H 1awrence0s /tudies in +lassic "merican 1iterature5 The renegade hates life itself.L He wants the death of life.L /o these many 6reformers0 and 6idealists0 who glorify the sa!ages in "merica.L They are death=birds, life=haters.L 2enegades.L Ge can0t go back.L "nd Bel!ille couldn0t.L Buch as he hated the ci!ilized humanity he knew.L He couldn0t go back to the sa!ages.L He wanted to.L He tried to.L "nd he couldn0t.L *ecause, in the first place, it made him sick.L then we feel a !ery different rhythmic effect, which is 6brus-ue and emphatic0 in style. In this passage, the punctuation is not only dense but also hea!y. The full stop, the hea!iest punctuation mark, is used to emphasize the autonomy of each piece of information, which is thereby asserted with the ma$imum force. Ghen similar stress patterns are repeated either within a syntactic unit or between consecuti!e units, as the passage from Airginia Goolf0s .rs Dalloway shows5 How fresh, how calm, stiller than this of course, the air was in the early morningH like the flap of a wa!eH the kiss of a wa!eH chill and sharp and yet (for a girl of eighteen as she then was solemn, ... we are aware of an impressi!e symmetrical rhythmic effect, a type that adds to the mo!e towards a clima$ or to a contrast of ideas. ?oregrounded rhythm is often employed by a prose writer for iconic or e$pressi!e effects. Ge ha!e already shown how the regular mo!ement and sound of a speeding train is mimicked by 3ickens with the repetition of similar stress patterns in a passage of 3ombey and /on abo!e. The alternating use of a succession of short and long syntactic units will echo the intense rise and fall of feelings of a character. Take the ending of Fatherine Bansfield0s Life of .a 0arker for e$ample5 *ut at the thought of crying it was as though little 1ennie leapt in his gran0s arms.L "h, that0s what she wants to do, my do!e.L Gran wants to cry.L If she could cry now, cry for a long time, o!er e!erything, beginning with her first place and the cruel cook, going on to the doctor0s, and then the se!en little ones, death of her husband, the children0s lea!ing her, and all the years of misery that led up to 1ennie.L *ut to ha!e a proper cry o!er all these things would take a long time.L "ll the same, the time for it had come.L /he must do it.L /he couldn0t put it off any longerH /he couldn0t wait any more ...L Ghere could she goJL 6/he0s had a hard life, has Ba #arker0.L ]es, a hard life, indeedeL Her chin began to tremble.L There was no time to lose.L *ut whereJ GhereJL /he couldn0t go home.L Rthel was there.L It would frighten Rthel out of her life.L /he couldn0t sit on a bench anywhereH people would come asking her -uestions.L /he couldn0t possibly go back to the gentleman0s flatH she had no fight to cry in strangers0 houses.L If she sat on some steps a policeman would speak to her.L 7h, wasn0t there anywhere she could hide and keep herself to herself and stay as long as she liked, not disturbing anybody, and nobody worrying herJL Gasn0t there anywhere in the world where she could ha!e her cry out == at lastJL Ba #arker stood, looking up and down.L The icy wind blew out her apron into a balloon.L "nd now it began to rain.L There was nowhere.L Here we cannot but feel the alternating rhythmic effects that strongly echo the sobbing and wailing of Ba #arker, == in her heart. Em$l#(ment #+ V'&i#)s P#ints #+ Vie! In the basic aesthetic sense, point of view refers to angle of !ision == the point from which the people, e!ents and other details in a story are !iewed and told in the no!el. There can be many !ariations in point of !iew, but traditionally there ha!e been two kinds5 first person and third person. In the first person point of !iew, the pre!ailing perspecti!e is usually that of the major character as narrator == the narrator speaks as 6I0 and is him=Lherself a character in the story (3a!id +opperfieldH +atcher in the 2ye. The choice of the major character as narrator (like Iane Ryre produces a personal relationship with the reader, which tends to bias the reader in fa!our of the narrator character. The third=person point of !iew has a narrator outside the story who refers to all characters in the story proper by name, or as 6he0, 6she0, 6they0. /uch a point of !iew may be e$tremely broad == called the omniscient point of !iew as when the author decides to re!eal the inner world of hisLher characters. In this kind of narrati!e the narratorLauthor knows all and re!eals what heLshe wishes. The narratorLauthor can e!en gi!e direct comment on the action of the characters. /ometimes, howe!er, the narratorLauthor deliberately refrains from entering the minds of any of hisLher characters and tells hisLher tales as though it were a play taking place before hisLher eyes. In )leak "ouse, when recounting the death of Br Tulkinghorn, 3ickens pretends that he does not know that the e!ent has occurred, assuming the role of an onlooker (such as his reader5 Ghat0s thatJ Gho fired a gun or pistolJ Ghere was itJ The use of -uestions is particularly dramatic. It can be an effecti!e way to make direct appeal to the reader0s own e$perience. George Rliot in!ites her reader to share her insight5 Gill not a tiny speck !ery close to our !ision blot out the glow of the world, and lea!e only a margin by which we see the blotJ == Biddlemarch /ome writers would choose not to be intrusi!e or make direct comment in the narrati!eH they choose instead to re!eal the traits of the characters in the no!el by presenting !i!id scenes that describe their words and actions and let the reader arri!e at the conclusion. The third person point of !iew can be limited, called the limited point of !iew. The narrator tells the story in the third person but confines himLherself to what is e$perienced, thought and felt by a single character, or at most by a !ery limited number of characters, within the story. /uch a limited third person narrati!e was much used by Henry Iames, in whose later works all the e!ents and actions are presented as they unfold before, and filter to the reader through, the particular consciousness of one of his charactersH for instance, what the reader sees in The Ambassadors is mostly through the confusion of the protagonist, the mature, morally sensiti!e, yet innocent /trether. /ometimes a no!el may combine different points of !iew. ?or e$ample, in !uthering "eights we are introduced to both the original and the changed situation by the tenant, Br 1ockwood, but most of the story is told by <elly 3ean, assisted by a letter from Isabel and an account by sillah, the new ser!ant at the Heights. 1ater writers Iames Ioyce, Airginia Goolf, Gilliam ?aulkner and others ha!e mo!ed directly into the consciousness of the characters themsel!es and de!eloped the techni-ue of stream of consciousness narration in which point of !iew has become increasingly internalized. The main e!ents are presented through the impressions of the characters themsel!es, and there is often no typographical de!ice to indicate the change in point of !iew by different characters, e$cept the subtle register change in language. In Ioyce0s Mlysses Bolly *loom0s unpunctuated ramblings5 ... what do they ask us to marry them for if were hsici so bad as all that comes to yes because they cant get on without us white "rsenic she put in his tea off flypaper wasnt it I wonder why they call it that if I asked him hed say its from the Greek lea!e us as wise as we were before...L and the apparently unrelated pieces of information that ser!e as the internal representation of 1eopold *loom0s thoughts5 " kidney oozed blood gouts on the willow patterned dish5 the last.L He stood by the ne$t=door girl at the counter.LGould she buy it too, calling the items from a slip in her hand.L +happed5 washing soda.L "nd a pound and a half of 3enny0s sausages.L His eyes rested on her !igorous hips.L Goods his name is.L Gonder what he does.L Gife is oldish.L <ew blood.L <o followers allowed.L contrast with *loom0s short phrases5 /hrunken skull.L "nd old.L Xuest for the philosopher0s stone.L The alchemists.L 3rugs age you after mental e$citement.L 1ethargy then.L GhyJL 2eaction...L The S)0tle W#&,ins #+ A)th#&i'l T#ne Authorial tone is the implied stance or attitude of the author light or serious, bitter or enthusiastic, straightforward or ironic, towards the characters and e!ents. Through the use of connotati!e words, for instance, the author may slant hisLher presentation of an action or a character so that hisLher readers are persuaded towards an emotion (possibly of admiration or contemptH and by the manipulation of hisLher audience0s feelings the author implies not only hisLher judgment of hisLher own world and its inhabitants but also hisLher e!aluation of the larger uni!erse that hisLher art reflects. Ghen what is being said and the tone are consistent, it is difficult to separate one from the otherH when the language seems e$aggerated, we call it overstatementH when a word or e$pression does not -uite co!er an action or e$isting state, we refer to it as understatementH when a word or words used appear to mean -uite the opposite of the sense actually re-uired in the conte$t, we say that it is irony. %erbal irony or re!ersal of meaning is a wide=ranging phenomenon which can be manifested in a single sentence, or may e$tend o!er a whole no!el. 7n a small scale it may be located in details of le$is and synta$. Aerbal irony may be genial, philosophically detached or satirical in intent. The satirical !ariety occurs when the author0s tone deafly implies censure, e!en though the words used may appear to be sympathetic, appreciati!e or e!en flattering in meaning. The sentence pronounced by the judge at the court trial in Rrewhon by /amuel *utler drips with satirical irony. Take the beginning for e$ample5 #risoner at the bar, you ha!e been accused of the greatest crime of labouring under pulmonary consumption and after an impartial trial before a jury of your countrymen, you ha!e been found guilty.L In all seriousness, the judge pronounces 6the greatest crime0 as 6labouring under pulmonary consumption0, which sharply conflicts with common e$pectations. <ormally, the greatest crime is murder, rape, arson, etcH ne!er could it be working in spite of illness. *ut under the Rrewhonian system there is such a per!erted norm that clashes with the norms of the authorLreader. The author0s real intention is to ridicule the type of human folly e$hibited in Rrewhon, which reflects the unacknowledged facts of the *ritish Aictorian society where the sick and the poor were actually punished with loss of their jobs or cuts in their wages, hence the bitter irony. Irony may also e$ist in actions and situations where the re!ersal is not one of meaning but of e$pectation, what we call situational irony, of which irony of fate is a !ariant. This is a fa!ourite structural de!ice of Thomas Hardy. In his Tess of the d’ Mrbervilles the heroine loses her !irtue because of her innocence, then loses her happiness because of her honestyH she finds her happiness again only by committing murder, and after a few day0s bliss, is arrested and hanged. Ge cannot but feel how bitter the author is when he concludes5 6The #resident of the Immortals, in "eschylean phrase, had ended his sport with Tess0. V'&i#)s W'(s #+ P&esentin S$eech 'nd Th#)ht To help with plot de!elopment and characterization, no!elists ha!e constantly aimed at a truthful presentation of con!ersation as it happens in real life, thus gi!ing a life=like description of a character0s status, disposition and peculiarities, and hisLher attitude and mood on an occasion. There are four ways of presenting speech5 3irect /peech (as5 I said, 6He has come0., ?ree 3irect /peech (as5 He has come, I said., Indirect /peech (as5 I said that he had come., ?ree Indirect /peech (as5 He had come.. *esides, there is the <arrati!e 2eport of /peech "cts (as5 /he told of his coming.. 3irect /peech can show great !ariety. 3epending on indi!idual characters, it can be elegant or pompous, serious or rigid, casual or intimate, !ulgar or slangy5 each person speaks hisLher own idiolect. Rlegant speech is couched in clear enunciation, formal diction and correct grammar5 6Ghat is your personal opinionJ0 6I0m not entirely impartial, you know0. 6I0m perfectly sure that you can see the problem with your admirable detachment0, said 2ose... 6]ou0!e either got to show some faith now or gi!e the whole thing up in this country0. 63ouble or -uits0, said 2ose. 6if I ha!en0t misunderstood you, my dear chapJ0 == +. #. /now, The <ew Ben This dialogue is e!idently carried on between educated people, with one being !ery polite to the other. The following dialogue (?ree 3irect /peech shows how the pompous speech of the school master contrasts with the schoolboysu casual speech5 The ayes ha!e it, said /logan, nodding brightly towards the boyH so come along, Iohnny, come along up here to me, my son, till I pay you the attention counselled of God, which will be painful, but which will, ultimately, add a lot to your moral and, I hope, spiritual progress. /logan0s callin y0 up, whispered a boy on Iohnny0s rightH wants to biff you for playin0 cards durin0 play hour, so he does. *ut Iohnny cowered his head down to the desk, and made no offer to stir. Rh, there, said a boy to his left, nudging him in the side, d0ye hearJ He0s callin0 you. ]0 are to g0 up to him k d0 ye hearJ (/ean 70 +asey, I Fnock at the 3oor "ssimilation and elision occur fre-uently in the two schoolboys0 speech, with the use of slang biff for strike. There is also Indirect /peech, or ?ree Indirect /peech. It is often ju$taposed with 3irect /peech, gi!ing the sense of spoken memory, of distaste, of embarrassment, or of detachment5 6It0s !ery, !ery good of you to spare me a minute, my dear Rliot0.... Had my journey that afternoon been e$cessi!ely uncomfortable, he asked, had I been able to get a reasonable luncheonJ ... 6I gather that e!erything did not go precisely according to e$pectationJ0 I said I was afraid not. 6]ou will appreciate, my dear Rliot, that it is rather unfortunate. There has been slightly too much criticism of this project to be comfortable, all along0. I was well aware of it. /ometimes ?ree Indirect /peech is used for larger=scale tactful effect to channel the reader0s sympathies towards one character and away from another. In the court room scene in A Tale of Two +ities, 3ickens uses ?ree Indirect /peech to portray the speeches of those characters hostile to the central characters of the no!el, casting an ironic light on what they say. #arallel to these four ways of speech presentation, there are four ways of presenting thought5 3irect Thought (as5 /he thought, 6He is a nice guy0., ?ree 3irect Thought (as5 He is a nice guy, she thought. , Indirect Thought (as5 /he thought that he was a nice guy. , ?ree Indirect Thought (as5 He was a nice guy. H also, there is likewise <arrati!e 2eport of a Thought "ct (as5 /he considered him a nice guy.. 3irect Thought has been widely used to depict the psychological state of a character. Here is an e$ample depicting the inner workings of /oames5 6I know she wants the child0, he thought.L 6If it0s born dead, and no more chance afterwards ( it0ll upset her terribly. <o more chancee "ll for nothinge Barried life with her for years and years without a child. <othing to steady here /he0s too young. <othing to look forward to, for her= for mee ?or mee0L == Iohn Galsworthy, In +hancery ?ree Indirect Thought, howe!er, has become !ery common in the )4th century no!el, as it keeps much of the !i!idness of 3irect Thought without the artificiality of the 6speaking to oneself con!ention. Griters like Iames Ioyce, Airginia Goolf, and Fatherine Bansfield tend to use ?ree Indirect Thought to portray the internal drama of the minds of their characters. "n e$ample is found in Ioyce0s presentation of R!eline0s thoughts5 /he had consented to go away, to lea!e her home.L Gas that wiseJL /he tried to weigh each side of the -uestion.L In her home anyway she had shelter and foodH she had those whom she had known all her life about her.L 7f course she had to work hard, both in the house and at business.L Ghat would they say of her in the stores when they found out that she had run away with a fellowJL /ay she was a fool perhapsH and her place would be filled up by ad!ertisement.L == R!eline In modern no!els, the author often 6slips0 from narration to (?ree Indirect /peech or (?ree Indirect Thought without e!er signalling that heLshe is doing so. "s readers ha!e little choice but to trust the !iews of the narrator, they are likely to take o!er the !iews of the character too, as is shown in the following5 "nd as she began to go with Biss #ym from jar to jar, choosing, nonsense, nonsense, she said to herself, more and more gently, as if this beauty, this scent, this colour, and Biss #ym liking her, trusting her, were a wa!e which she let flow o!er her and surmount that hatred, that monster, surmount it allH and it lifted her up and up when == 7he a pistol shot in the street outsideeL == Airginia Goolf, Brs 3alloway Chapter No: 21 THE CONCEPT OF COHESION H COHERENCE IN STYLISTICS FOCUS ON • Coherence • 4alliday9s Approach to Cohesion o *eerential Cohesion o 2llipsis Cohesion o Con:unction Cohesion o Le;ical cohesion In Halliday0s grammar, the analysis of cohesion is closely related to the analysis of theme<rheme and given<new, as all these features are connected to the te$tual metafunction of language. Theme<rheme and given<new combine in the grammar of Rnglish to form what Halliday calls the structural component of te(ture. This structural component of te$ture is defined as 6the property of being a te$t0. The other component of te(ture is the cohesi!e, which is the non=structural component. The concept of te(ture should thus consist of the following features5 a- the structural co$ponent o te%ture 8. thematic structure5 Theme [ 2heme (+hapter /tylistics and Grammar ). information structure and focus b- the cohesi+e (non2structural) co$ponent o te%ture 8. reference ). ellipsis and substitution %. conjunction '. le$ical cohesion C#he&ence +ohesion must be distinguished from coherence. " cohesi!e te$t may not necessarily be coherent to the reader, and a te$t which is coherent to someone may be lacking in certain crucial cohesi!e elements. " te$t is cohesi!e according to the language it is written or spoken in, and it is coherent to the indi!idual reader or hearer. +ohesion is thus dependent on the resources of a particular language, whereas rele!ant psychological and other !ariable e$tra=linguistic factors are needed for the realization of coherence. " physics te$t=book for e$ample, may be written using all the necessary cohesi!e de!ices of the language, but it may not be coherent to someone who does not ha!e the necessary background knowledge (which is needed for the realization of coherence e!en if he has a !ery good command of the language. 7ne problem that you may face when doing stylistic analysis is the fact that your a!ailable linguistic concepts do not ade-uately deal with connections between sentences. The !arious relationships between the primary and secondary clauses may be applicable to the analysis of more than one clause, but only if they e$ist within the boundaries of a single sentence. The analysis of theme<rheme in a passage, when combined with the concepts of given and new, can help you to e$amine the relationships between sentences, but your analysis in this direction may not be as multi=sided as you may ha!e wished. In order to pro!ide you with the tools for a more complete analysis, you ha!e to turn to Halliday0s analysis of cohesion. H'llid'(/s A$$&#'ch t# C#hesi#n +ohesion in Rnglish, in Halliday0s !iew, is achie!ed by any of the four ways below5 8 2eference ) Rllipsis % +onjunction ' 1e$ical cohesion Re+e&enti'l C#hesi#n Halliday defines reference as a participant or circumstantial element introduced at one place in the te$t, which is either taken as a reference point for something that follows, or as a basis for comparison. There are three ways by which referential cohesion can be realised5 8 Through #ersonal #ronouns #ersonal pronouns may be determinative5 "u$ber 0ender singular5 he, him, she, her e$inine she, her plural they, them $asculine he, him neuter it, they, them 7r possessive5 "u$ber 0ender singular5 his, her, hers, its e$inine5 her, hers plural5 their, theirs $asculine5 his neuter5 its, their, theirs ) Through 3emonstrati!es 3emonstrati!es can be specific or non<specific5 Speciic "on2Speciic near5 thisLthese thisLthese here (now no clear indication o nearness or re$oteness it, the re$ote5 thatLthose thatLthose there (then % Through +omparati!es General Identity Si$ilarity &ierence same as, e-ual to, identical to, identically, just as, as, etc. similar to, similarly, additional to, additionally, such as, likewise, etc. other than, different fromLthanLto, otherwise, else, differently, etc. #articular M N O more than, bigger than, better than, greater, more so, fewer than, fewer, less than, further than, so, so as, as much as Analysis o Reerential Cohesion In referential cohesion, one is not only interested on whether these items e$ist in the te$t, but also on whether they refer forward or backward to items within the te$t or outside the te$t, or whether it is self=referential or its reference is understood, gi!en the conte$ts. (a "naphora or +ataphora 6*ackwards0 or 6?orwards0 " personal pronoun, demonstrati!e or comparati!e that refers to an item whose more detailed or precise description Is gi!en earlier in the te$t5 anaphora Is gi!en later in the te$t5 cataphora (b Rndophora or R$ophora 6Inside0 or 67utside0 If a personal pronoun, demonstrati!e or comparati!e refers to an item whose more detailed or precise description Is gi!en within the te$t5 endophora Is gi!en outside the te$t5 e(ophora (c Homophora ]ou may encounter some problems howe!er, in relation to a reference item which does not clearly or strictly speaking refer to earlier or later items within the te$t nor to entities outside the te$t. Gi!en the te$t, such an item appears to be understood or self=referential, gi!en one0s cultural knowledge or knowledge of the world. It is known as a homophora. C#n1)ncti"e C#hesi#n ?rom a non=technical perspecti!e, the term cohesion is occasionally understood in terms of the conjuncti!e linkages that a writer makes between the clauses of the te$t. Ge thus come to the third way, according to Halliday, through which cohesi!e linkages can be established between clauses5 through the use of conjuncti!e adjuncts, which consist of certain ad!erbial groups or prepositional phrases. The use of conjunctions to link clauses, or its lack, has a parallel in classical rhetoric with the concepts of polysyndeton and asyndeton. In polysyndeton, relati!ely many conjunctions are used to link clauses, but in asyndeton, conjunctions are a!oided. Thus a link can be made between Halliday0s approach to conjuncti!e cohesion and classical rhetoric, in the sense that polysyndeton depends -uite a lot on conjuncti!e cohesion, but asyndeton a!oids it. 1ike the tactic linkages between clauses within the sentence in the study of clause comple$ing, the cohesi!e conjuncti!e linkages between clauses (which may e$tend beyond the sentence can also be seen in terms of elaboration, e$tension and enhancement. The conjuncti!e adjuncts which gi!e rise to elaboration and e$tension are gi!en in the first table below, whilst those which gi!e rise to enhancement are gi!en in the ne$t table (adapted from section @.' of the earlier editions of Halliday0s IntroductionH see also the slightly different tabulation in the third edition hsection @.%H pp. K')k%i. 1ike the table of modal adjuncts gi!en earlier, the lists of conjuncti!e adjuncts are not complete, nor are students e$pected to ha!e a photographic knowledge of them in order to do stylistic analysis. It must also be noted that some of these adjuncts can also function as modal or circumstantial adjuncts, depending on the conte$t in which they appearH some of the le$ical items gi!en below, like 6actually0, 6still0, and 6yet0, in fact appear in both the lists of modal and conjuncti!e adjuncts. In order to distinguish conjuncti!e adjuncts from the other types of adjuncts, you should keep the te$tual metafunction of conjuncti!e adjuncts uppermost in your minds5 i.e., is the primary purpose the linkage between one part of the te$t and another. &O'AI" T1PE 'EA"I"0 EPA'PLES ELA*ORATIO"5 "pposition e$pository 6i.e.0 that is (to say, in other words, I mean (to say, put it another wayH e$emplifying 6e.g.0 for instance, for e$ample, thus, to illustrateH +larification correcti!e 6rather0 or rather, at least, to be (more preciseH distracti!e 6by the way0 by the way, incidentallyH dismissi!e 6in any case0 in any case, anyway, lea!ing that asideH particularizing 6in particular0 in particular, more especiallyH resumpti!e 6to resume0 as I was saying, to resume, to get back to the pointH summati!e 6in short0 briefly, to sum up, in conclusionH !erifacti!e 6actually0 actually, in fact, as a matter of factH EPTE"SIO"5 "ddition positi!e 6and0 and, also, moreo!er, in addition, besidesH negati!e 6nor0 norH "d!ersati!e ad!ersati!e 6but0 but, on the other hand, yet, howe!er, con!erselyH Aariation replaci!e 6instead0 instead, on the contrary subtracti!e 6e$cept0 apart from that, e$cept for thatH alternati!e 6alternati!ely0 alternati!elyH &O'AI" T1PE 'EA"I"0 EPA'PLES E"4A"CE'E"T /patio=temporal simple 8 following then, ne$t, afterwards, first...thenH ) simultaneous just then, at the same time % preceding before that, hitherto, pre!iously ' conclusi!ely in the end, finallyH comple$ 8 immediate at once, thereupon, straightaway ) interrupted soon, after a whileH % repetiti!e ne$t time, on another occasion ' specific ne$t day, an hour later, ne$t morningH K durati!e meanwhile, all that timeH : terminalŠ until then, up to that point ; punctiliar at this momentH simple internal 8 following ne$t, secondly, 6my ne$t point is0, first...ne$tH ) simultaneous at this point, here, nowH % preceding hitherto, up to nowH ' conclusi!e lastly, last of all, finally +omparati!e comparati!e positi!e likewise, similarly, in the same wayH negati!e in a different wayH e$pression of means 6in the same manner0 in the same mannerH +ausal= conditional causal5 general 6therefore0 so, then, therefore, conse-uently, hence, because of that, forH causal5 specific 8 result in conse-uence, as a resultH ) reason on account of this, for thatLthis reasonH % purpose for that purpose, with this in mindL!iew conditional 8 positi!e then, in that case, in that e!ent, under the circumstancesH ) negati!e otherwise, if notH % concessi!e yet, still, though, despite thisLthat, e!en so, all the same, ne!ertheless, howe!erH 2especti!e positi!e 6here0 here, there, as to that, in thisLthat respectH as far as that0s concernedH negati!e 6elsewhere0 in other respects, elsewhereH Le3ic'l C#hesi#n To Halliday, 6le$ical cohesion comes about through the selection of hle$icali items that are related in some way to those that ha!e gone before0 (p. %84, %%4. Bore specifically, le$ical cohesion can be achie!ed through one of these means below. 3o note that in the third edition of Introduction to ?unctional Grammar, Halliday and Battthiessen di!ide up cohesion into paradigmatic and syntagmatic relations, with collocation being the only syntagmatic category, and synonymy treated separately from hyponymy and meronymy, and not together under the more general category of synonymy (pp. K;4k&. The choice is yours5 you can either continue to treat hyponymy and meronymy as being generally connected to synonymy, or follow the newer configuration in the third edition of the book. 8. 2epetition ). /ynonymy %. +ollocation. Repetition 2epetition, which in!ol!es the reiteration of a le$ical item, is the simplest form of le$ical cohesion. Halliday0s e$ample here is -uite memorable5 "lgy met a bear. The bear was bulgy The le$ical item which contributes to cohesion here is of course the word 6bear0 (not "lgy and bulgye. Synony$y The ne$t form of le$ical cohesion in!ol!es the use of le$ical items which are in some sense synonymous. The e$amples of synonymy gi!en by Halliday are the related words 6sound0L0noise0 and 6ca!alry0L0horses0 in the shortened e$tract below5 . . . he was startled by a noise from behind him. It was the noise of trotting horses . . . . The sound of the ca!alry grew rapidly nearer... Reerence There may either be identity of reference or no identity of reference in Halliday0s conception of synonymy as a contributing factor to le$ical cohesion. Identity o reerence In synonymy which in!ol!es identity of reference, we refer either to synonyms in the usual sense of the word, or to le$ical items which are related in meaning to their referents by !irtue of being at a higher le!el of generality. The usual sense of the word synonym should be clear to most of you. The word 6bachelor0 and the phrase 6single male0, for e$ample, are synonymousH so are the words leisurely and rela(ed in 6He walked in a leisurely way0 and 6He walked in a rela$ed way0. Halliday also regards as synonymous meanings which are at a higher le!el of generality. " concept which is of a higher le!el of generality is also known as a super< ordinate concept, whereas that which is at a lower le!el is known as a subordinate concept. Ge can see how these super< and sub<ordinate concepts are related in Halliday0s e$ample of 6blackbirds m birds m creatures m they0, which can be represented in the diagram below, "s we can see, they is super=ordinate to 6creatures0, which is in turn super=ordinate to 6birds0, and which is finally super=ordinate to 6blackbirds0. "ny of these super=ordinate concepts may be used to refer to 6blackbirds0H each of them will be regarded as synonymous to 6blackbirds0. In the analysis of le$ical items which ha!e identity of reference, the concept of synonymy, according to Halliday, can also apply to words which do not belong to the same word class, as in 6cheered0 and 6applause0 in 6R!eryone cheered. The leader acknowledged the applause0H and 6cried0 and 6tears0 in 6I wish I hadn0t cried so muche I shall be punished for it... by being drowned in my own tearse0) "o Identity o Reerence In synonymy with no identity of reference, we refer either to hyponymy, where a cohesi!e relationship is established between a general (super=ordinate concept and (usually more than one specific (or subordinate conceptsH % or to meronymy, where a cohesi!e relationship is established between a concept and its parts. Ge are dealing with a hyponymous relationship when a cohesi!e linkage is established between 6trees0 and oak, pine, elm etc. as in figure a belowH and with meronymy where there is a cohesi!e relationship established between trunk, branch, leaf etc and 6tree0 as in figure b below5 Hyponymy and meronymy are often regarded as figures of speech or tropes, where they are collecti!ely classified under synecdoche or more generally, under metonymy. Antony$y In the analysis of synonymy, we finally ha!e antonymy, where a cohesi!e semantic linkage is established between le$ical items of opposite meanings. Collocation The final form of le$ical cohesion is collocation. Halliday defines collocation as the tendency of certain le$ical items to co=occur. Halliday0s illustration of collocation through the e$ample of the limerick 6" little fat man of *ombay0 is both typical and memorable5 " little fat man of *ombay Gas smoking one !ery hot day. *ut a bird called a snipe ?lew away with his pipe, Ghich !e$ed the fat man of *ombay. Halliday notes here that there is 6a strong collocational bond between smoke and pipe0 in the abo!e poem. 3o not get too worried if you cannot always make an e$act distinction between collocation and some e$amples of synonymy. Halliday notes that 6e!en where there is a relation of synonymy between le$ical items, their cohesi!e effect tends to depend more on collocation, a simple tendency to co=occur0 (p. %8%, %%%, K;;. /o the two types of le$ical cohesion do tend to o!erlap. Rndnotes 8. <otice that there is an o!erlap here5 6they0 and 6blackbirds0 can also be analyzed in terms of referential cohesion. ). "gain here, there seems to be an o!erlap, although this time, it is within le$ical cohesion itself5 words such as 6cheered0 and 6applause0 or 6cried0 and 6tears0 can also be treated as collocati!e. Chapter No: 22 C'sic P&#se St(le FOCUS ON • 5rite in the Acti&e +oice • A&oid NominaliFations • 2;press (arallel 'deas in (arallel =rammatical !orm • (lace the 2mphatic 5ords at the 2nd o the Sentence • 2;press Statements in (ositi&e !orm • +ary Sentence (atterns • Choose Iour 5ords Careully • A&oid "&erusing 5ord Modiiers • Clariy the Logical *elationship between Iour 'deas • (rune )eadwood • A&oid *edundancy • #se Metaphor to 'llustrate W&ite in the Acti"e V#ice Qnless you ha!e a good reason to do otherwise, always choose the acti!e, rather than the passi!e, !oice. Gith the acti!e !oice, the agent (the person or thing carrying out the action e$pressed by the !erb is the subject5 Iohn opened the door. There are two types of passi!e !oice constructions. In one, the agent is identified, but the person or thing towards which the action is directed (rather than the agent is the subject of the sentence5 The door was opened by Iohn. In the second type of passi!e !oice construction, the agent is not identified at all5 The door was opened. (<ote5 The !erb 6to be0 ham, is, are, was, were, be, being, beeni often flags the passi!e !oice. In addition to being less natural, less direct and less !igorous, sentences that fail to identify an agent can raise ethical -uestions, since they fail to attribute responsibility for the action they e$press. The passi!e !oice can, howe!er, be an effecti!e means of doing at least three things5 a ?ocusing attention on the thing acted upon5 The bus was destroyed by a freight train. b 3escribing action when the agent is unknown or unimportant5 The building was demolished o!er fifteen years ago. c #lacing the agent at the end of a clause where he, she, or it can more easily be modified by a long modifier5 The house was built by Iohn Hanson, who went on, years later, to become president of the +ontinental +ongress. Bany science and technical writers once considered passi!e !oice more objecti!e than acti!e !oice and, hence, more appropriate to their writing. "s the -uotations below suggest, howe!er, the traditional preference for passi!e !oice in scientific and technical writing is changing5 Ge cannot object to this use of the passi!e construction in itself. Ge can object to its abusekto use almost to the e$clusion of all other constructions. Ghen the passi!e is used as a rule, not as an e$ception to obtain a particular effect, writing soon begins to seem forced and uncomfortable. k Iohn Firkman, Good /tyle5 Griting for /cience and Technology The acti!e is the natural !oice, the one in which people usually speak or write, and its use is less likely to lead to wordiness or ambiguity. The passi!e of modesty, a de!ice of writers who shun the first=person singular, should be a!oided. I disco!ered is shorter and less likely to be ambiguous than it was disco!ered. The use of 8 or we a!oids dangling participles, common in sentences written in the third=person passi!e. k +ouncil of *iology Rditors, +*R /tyle Banual, Kth ed. h#assi!e !oicei implies that e!ents take place without any one doing anything. .oves files, desks and ideas without any assistance from a human being. .akes readers wonder whether they should be doing something or 4ust sitting there waiting for the system to perform. It turns actions into states of being. It0s somewhat mystical, but tends to put readers to sleep. . . . To get more acti!e, say who does what. "ssign responsibility to the system or to the programme or, if necessary, to the reader. If you ha!e to tell readers to do something, don0t pussyfoot aroundktell them. ("re you slipping into the passi!e because you don0t dare to order readers aroundJ k Ionathan #rice, How to Grite a +omputer Banual A"#id N#min'liF'ti#ns Qnless you ha!e a good reason to do otherwise, a!oid nominalizations. " nominalization is a noun deri!ed from and communicating the same meaning as a !erb or adjecti!e. It is usually more direct, !igorous and natural to e$press action in !erbs and -ualities in adjecti!es. <o5 7ur e$pectation was that we would be rewarded for our efforts. ]es5 Ge e$pected to be rewarded for our efforts. <o5 There was a stuffiness about the room. ]es5 The room was stuffy. <ominalizations fre-uently crop up in noun strings. " noun string, a series of nouns that modify one another, is often concise but ambiguous. If the noun string is short, it can usually be tamed with a few judicious hyphens5 <o5 The test area probes were deli!ered last week. ]es5 The test=area probes were deli!ered last week. 1onger noun strings, howe!er, are often confusing, and it is generally best to unstring them by con!erting nominalizations back to !erbs or by adding a few strategic articles and prepositions5 <o5 Bissile guidance centre office e-uipment maintenance is performed weekly. ]es5 The office e-uipment in the missile guidance centre is maintained weekly. 1ike passi!e !oice, nominalizations can ser!e some useful purposes5 8. <ominalizations can facilitate smooth transitions between sentences by ser!ing as subjects that refer back to ideas in pre!ious sentences5 /usan refused to accept the fi!e=stroke handicap. Qltimately, this refusal cost her the match. ). <ominalizations can be effecti!e when you choose to desensitize a statement by con!erting the more !igorous and direct !erb form into the less !igorous and direct noun form. Thus, He is scheduled to be e$ecuted on Bonday. becomes His e$ecution is scheduled for Bonday. %. /ince nouns often name material things, they ha!e a certain status in our culture, where the concrete often seems more real (hence, more credible than the abstract. Therefore, although nominalizations often result in pompous and con!oluted prose, they occasionally can be used to make the abstract seem more concrete and, perhaps, more con!incing. Thus, The colonists would not tolerate being ta$ed. becomes The colonists would not tolerate ta$ation. Ioseph Gilliams neatly sums up these first two principles (write in the acti!e !oice and a!oid nominalizations5 6Try to state who0s doing what in the subject of your sentence, and try to state what that who is doing in your !erb. . . . Get that straight, and the rest of the sentence begins to fall into place0 (/tyle, 8st ed., p. & E3$&ess P'&'llel Ide's in P'&'llel G&'mm'tic'l F#&m #arallelism is the principle that units of e-ual function should be e$pressed in e-ual form. 2epetition of the same structure allows the reader to recognize parallel ideas more readily5 <o5 This could be a problem for both the winners and for those who lose. ]es5 This could be a problem for both the winners and the losers. <o5 7utput from AB appears in the output display area. The input area is where commands typed by the user are displayed. ]es5 7utput from AB appears in the output display area. +ommands typed by the user appear in the input display area. <ote that any two (or more units of discoursekwords, phrases, clauses, sentences, paragraphs, chapterskcan be made parallel with one another. <ote also that, although it is a powerful rhetorical de!ice, parallelism is only one of many factors writers must consider as they compose. Hence, parallelism is occasionally o!erridden by other, more pressing considerations, such as clarity and !ariety. Pl'ce the Em$h'tic W#&ds 't the End #+ the Sentence Ioseph Gilliams offers two complementary principles of order and emphasis (/tyle, 8st ed.5 8. Ghene!er possible, e$press at the beginning of a sentence ideas already stated, referred to, implied, safely assumed, familiarkwhate!er might be called old, repeated, relati!ely predictable, less important, readily accessible information. ). R$press at the end of a sentence the least predictable, least accessible, the newest, the most significant and striking information. <o5 #eter 1aslett writes about how family structure has changed in his article, 6The Gorld Ge Ha!e 1ost0. ]es5 In his article, 6The Gorld Ge Ha!e 1ost0, #eter 1aslett writes about how family structure has changed. In the first !ersion, the emphasis is on the title of the articleH in the second !ersion, the emphasis is on the substance of the article. <ote that according to the two principles abo!e, what justly needs emphasis in a sentence generally depends upon what has already been said or what is already knownH that is, upon the gi!en information. Ghen the gi!en information is placed at the beginning of a sentence, it is understated and ser!es as a transition or introduction to the new information in the sentence, which is thereby emphasized. Ghat Ha!iland and +lark call the 6Gi!en=<ew /trategy0 not only creates proper emphasis within a sentence, it also creates cohesion between sentences since the new information of one sentence often becomes the gi!en (or old information of the ne$t. /chematically, the mo!ement of gi!en to new information in a series of sentences might look like this5 "*. *+. +3. 3R 1ook, for e$ample, at the following pair of sentences5 1ines that contain printer=control characters will not look right=justified on your screen. They will be right=justified, howe!er, when you print them. In the first sentence, the gi!en information is lines (", and the new information is right=justified (*. In the second sentence, the gi!en information is right=justified (*, and the new information is when you print them (+. "lthough the end of the sentence is generally the most emphatic position, as /trunk and Ghite point out in The 'lements of &tyle, 6The other prominent position in the sentence is the beginning. "ny element in the sentence other than the subject becomes emphatic when placed first5 3eceit or treachery he could not forgi!e0. " little bit of this in!erted style, howe!er, goes a long way=use it sparingly. E3$&ess St'tements in P#siti"e F#&m The positi!e form of a statement is generally more concise and straightforward than the negati!e5 <o5 3on0t write in the negati!e. ]es5 Grite in the affirmati!e. <o5 3isengagement of the gears is not possible without locking mechanism release. ]es5 To disengage the gears, you must first release the locking mechanism. "s Ioseph Gilliams points out, 6To understand the negati!e, we ha!e to translate it into an affirmati!e, because the negati!e only implies what we should do by telling us what we shouldn0t do. The affirmati!e states it directly0 (/tyle, 8st ed.. Gilliams goes on to point out that we needn0t translate e!ery negati!e into an affirmati!e, for (as this sentence illustrates we sometimes ha!e a special reason to emphasize not, no or never. The negati!e is especially effecti!e when used as a means of denial, contradiction or antithesis5 "sk not what your country can do for youkask what you can do for your country. V'&( Sentence P'tte&ns " series of sentences that follow the same general pattern (e.g., a series of three or four simple sentences or a series of three or four compound sentences can be tedious. "!oid monotony by !arying sentence patterns. 7ne of the best ways to a!oid a tedious series of simple sentences is to use subordination (or embedding to combine the information presented in these sentences into a single, comple$ sentence. ?or e$ample, ?1I/T is a utility programme used to assist in file management. ?1I/T displays a scrollable, full=screen list of selected files. The user may e$ecute any +B/ command from this list. becomes ?1I/T, a utility program used to manage files, displays a scrollable, full=screen list of selected files from which the user may e$ecute any +B/ command. "nother way to a!oid a series of simple sentences is to use coordination (the tying together of language elements that ha!e e-ual rank, such as independent clauses to combine se!eral of these sentences into a single, compound sentence. ?or e$ample, ]ou can initialize +"3"B from any /ystem R terminal. ]ou can in!oke +"3"B only from the %8;& terminals. becomes ]ou can initialize +"3"B from any /ystem R terminal, but you can in!oke +"3"B only from the %8;& terminals. +ompound and comple$ sentences can themsel!es, howe!er, become tedious. "nd sometimes, they0re just plain awkward or confusing. 3on0t o!erload your sentences or your readers. If you find a sentence is becoming too long and confusing, or if you0!e used three or four comple$ sentences in a row, re!erse the process described abo!e and break your sentence up into se!eral shorter sentences. <ote that although sentence !ariety is illustrated here only in terms of sentence type, this same principle applies to other sentence features, such as sentence openings and sentence length. 7ne of the best ways to disco!er problems with sentence !ariety is to read your writing aloud. Human language is primarily oralLaural and only secondarily graphicL!isualH hence, most of us ha!e a better ear for language than we ha!e an eye for it. In fact, reading your writing aloud can help you disco!er problems not only with sentence !ariety but also with order and emphasis, parallelism, coherence, redundancy, synta$, rhythm and grammar. Ch##se Y#)& W#&ds C'&e+)ll( 1inguists estimate that the Rnglish language includes o!er one million words, thus pro!iding Rnglish speakers with the largest le$icon in the world. ?rom this !ast le$icon, writers may choose the precise words to meet their needs. The list below describes some of the factors you might consider in choosing, from among a number of synonyms or near synonyms, the word or phrase most appropriate to your purpose. <otice that the distinctions between these factors are not always sharpH some might properly be considered subsets of others. ?or e$ample, tone, formality and intensity might be considered subsets of connotation. ". Connotation: Ghile the literal or e$plicit meaning of a word or phrase is its denotation, the suggesti!e or associati!e implication of a word or phrase is its connotation. Gords often ha!e similar denotations but -uite different connotations (due to etymology, common usage, suggestion created by similar=sounding words, etc.H hence, you might choose or a!oid a word because of its connotation. ?or e$ample, although one denotation of rugged is 6strongly built or constituted0, the connotation is generally masculineH hence, you might choose to describe an athletic woman as athletic rather than rugged. 1ikewise, although one denotation of pretty is 6ha!ing con!entionally accepted elements of beauty0, the connotation is generally feminineH thus, most men would probably prefer being referred to as handsome. *. Tone: Ghile the denotation of a word e$presses something about the person or thing you are discussing, the tone of a word e$presses something about your attitude towards the person or thing you are discussing. ?or e$ample, the following two sentences ha!e similar denotations, but !ery different tones5 The senator showed himself to be incompetent. The senator showed himself to be a fool. +. Le+el o !or$ality: /ome dictionaries indicate whether a word is formal, informal, !ulgar or obsceneH most often, howe!er, your own sensiti!ity to the language should be sufficient to guide you in making the appropriate choice for a gi!en conte$t. In writing a report about the symptoms of radiation sickness, for e$ample, you would probably want to talk about 6nausea and !omiting0 rather than 6nausea and puking0. *e aware, howe!er, that achie!ing an appropriate le!el of formality is as much a -uestion of choosing less formal as it is of choosing more formal words. "s /trunk and Ghite point out, 6"!oid the elaborate, the pretentious, the coy and the cute. 3o not be tempted by a twenty= dollar word when there is a ten=centre handy, ready, and able0. "nd Ioseph Gilliams adds, 6Ghen we pick the ordinary word o!er the one that sounds more impressi!e, we rarely lose anything important, and we gain the simplicity and directness that most effecti!e writing demands0 (/tyle, 8st ed.. ]ou might, for e$ample, replace initiate with begin, cognizant with aware, and enumerate with count. Gilliams offers the following e$ample and translation of inflated prose5 #ursuant to the recent memorandum issued "ugust @, 8@;@, because of petroleum e$igencies, it is incumbent upon us all to endea!our to make ma$imal utilization of telephonic communication in lieu of personal !isitation. "s the memo of "ugust @ said, because of the gas shortage, try to use the telephone as much as you can instead of making personal !isits. 2emember, as "braham 1incoln said, 6]ou can fool all of the people some of the time, and you can e!en fool some of the people all of the time, but you can0t fool all of the people all of the time0. The more sophisticated your audience, the more likely they are to be put off, rather than impressed, by inflated prose. 3. Intensity: Intensity is the degree of emotional content of a wordkfrom objecti!e to subjecti!e, mild to strong, euphemistic to inflammatory. It is common, for e$ample, for wildlife managers to talk about har!esting deer rather than killing them. +hoosing a less intense word or phrase can a!oid unnecessarily offending or inciting your readersH howe!er, it can also be a means of a!oiding responsibility or masking the unsa!oury nature of the situation. "s George 7rwell says in 6#olitics and the Rnglish 1anguage05 6In our time, political speech and writing are largely the defence of the indefensible... Thus, political language has to consist largely of euphemism, -uestion begging, and sheer cloudy !agueness0. "chie!ing the appropriate le!el of intensity is as often a -uestion of choosing the more intense as it is of choosing the less intense word. Qltimately, you must rely upon your own sensiti!ity to the language, to your topic, and to your audience to guide you in making the appropriate choices for a gi!en conte$t. R. Le+el o Abstraction: "ccording to /trunk and Ghite, If those who ha!e studied the art of writing are in accord on anyone point, it is on this5 the surest way to arouse and hold the attention of the reader is by being specific, definite and concrete. The greatest writers. . .are effecti!e largely because they deal in particulars and report the details that matter. Their words call up pictures. ?or e$ample, if we mo!e down in the hierarchy of abstraction from thing to plant to tree to birch to grey birch, we can see that each step offers the reader a clearer picture of what0s being discussed. The general and the abstract do ha!e their place. There are times, for e$ample, when we want to talk about 6humankind0 or 6life on Rarth0, but it0s often wise to support the general with the specific, the abstract with the concrete5 6+arl /agan0s research suggests that a nuclear winter would destroy all life on Rarthke!ery tree, e!ery flower, e!ery child0. ?. Sound: "ll other things being e-ual, you may want to choose one word rather than another simply because you like its sound. "lthough what you0re writing may ne!er be read aloud, most readers do 6hear0 what they read !ia an inner !oice. Hence, the 6sound0 of your writing can add to or detract from its flow and, thus, influence the reader0s impression of what you0!e written. G. Rhyth$: "lthough rhythm is -uantifiable, most writers rely on their ear for language to judge this aspect of their sentences. 1ike sound, rhythm in prose is often an 6all=other=things=being=e-ual0 consideration. That is, you wouldn0t want to choose the wrong word simply to impro!e the rhythm of your sentence. Howe!er, rhythm can contribute to the flow of your writing, and a sudden break in rhythm can create emphasis. Hence, you may choose one synonym o!er another simply because it has more or fewer syllables and, thus, contributes to the rhythm of your sentence. R!en an occasional bit of deadwood may be justified if it contributes to the rhythm of your sentence. ?inally, note that rhythm is especially important in parallel structures and is often a factor in sentence=to=sentence flowH that is, you must read a se-uence of sentences in conte$t to judge their rhythm. H. Repetition: Qsing the same word to refer to the same thing or idea is desirable when it contributes to transition and coherence. ?or e$ample, substituting commands for translators in the second pair of sentences below pro!ides a smoother transition5 This section describes the commands used for translating programmes written in the four languages mentioned abo!e. These translators create object=code files with a file= type of te(t from programmes written by the user. This section describes the commands used for translating programmes written in the four languages mentioned abo!e. These commands create object=code files with a file= type of te(t from programmes written by the user. /ometimes, howe!er, repeating the same word can become awkward, tedious or confusing. "lternating between a pronoun and its antecedent is one ob!ious way of a!oiding the tedious repetition of the same word to refer to the same thing. ]ou can usually help to a!oid confusing your readers by not using the same word (or !ariations of the same word to mean two different things in one sentence or in two closely related sentences5 <o5 7utput from AB is displayed in the output display area. ]es5 7utput from AB appears in the output display area. A"#id O"e&)sin W#&d M#di+ie&s "!oid o!erusing adjecti!es and ad!erbs. These modifiers ha!e their place, but in the most !igorous prose, action is e$pressed in !erbs, and the agents of that action are e$pressed in nouns. This principle applies to both ornate, pompous modifiers and to such commonplace intensifiers as really, pretty and very. 7ne of the best ways to a!oid o!erusing modifiers is to select specific, self=modified nouns and !erbskones that don0t re-uire adjecti!es and ad!erbs to supplement their meaning. ?or e$ample, you might replace long black car with limousine or ran very uickly with sped or bolted. Cl'&i+( the L#ic'l Rel'ti#nshi$ 0et!een Y#)& Ide's In order to make your writing coherent and the transitions between your ideas smooth, you must clearly e$press or imply the logical relationships between your ideas. If you fail to do so, one idea is simply ju$taposed with another, and readers are left to make the logical connections for themsel!es. In this situation, e$perienced readers will suspect that you ha!e not clarified the logical relationships between your ideas because you don0t know what those relationships arekor worse, because there aren0t any. There are a !ariety of ways to e$press or imply logical relationshipsH some of the smoothest and most subtle use the !ery structure of the sentence. ?or e$ample, you can use the principle of order and emphasis to indicate that one part of the sentence is more important than anotherH you can use subordination (see abo!e to indicate that one idea is less important than (or subordinate to anotherH and you can use parallelism to indicate that two or more ideas are of e-ual importance. ]ou can also use punctuation to indicate the logical relationships between ideas. ?or e$ample, you can use a colon to indicate that what follows is a further e$planation of what0s just been saidH you can use commas to indicate whether or not a clause restricts the meaning of the sentenceH and you can use dashes to indicate that the enclosed material is important to the discussion and should be emphasized. 7f the !arious means of establishing the logical relationships between ideas, the most blatant is the use of transitional de!ices, such as therefore, thus, however and hence. These de!ices are more pre!alent in analytical writingkwhere logical relationships are more importantkthan they are in narration or description. There is a point, howe!er, at which such de!ices begin to be abused. #roperly used, transitional de!ices signal logical relationshipskthey do not create them. In fact, there is no transitional de!ice in the Rnglish language that can wrench two ideas into a logical relationship that simply doesn0t e$ist. The ideas below (taken from the Harbrace +ollege Handbook lists eight logical relationships and some of the transitional de!ices that may be used to indicate each of them5 8. Addition: moreo!er, further, furthermore, besides, and, and then, likewise, also, nor, too, again, in addition, e-ually important, ne$t, first, second, third, in the first place, in the second place, finally, last ). Co$parison: similarly, likewise, in like manner %. Contrast: but, yet, and yet, howe!er, still, ne!ertheless, on the other hand, on the contrary, e!en so, notwithstanding, for all that, in contrast to this, at the same time, although this may be true, otherwise '. Place: here, beyond, nearby, opposite to, adjacent to, on the opposite side K. Purpose: to this end, for this purpose, with this object :. Result: hence, therefore, accordingly, conse-uently, thus, thereupon, as a result, then ;. Su$$ary3 repetition3 e%e$pliication3 intensiication: to sum up, in brief, on the whole, in sum, in short, as I ha!e said, in other words, that is, to be sure, as has been noted, for e$ample, for instance, in fact, indeed, to tell the truth, in any e!ent &. Ti$e: meanwhile, at length, soon, after a few days, in the meantime, afterward, later, now, in the past. P&)ne De'd!##d 3eadwood is material that adds nothing to the meaning of the sentence, words that ser!e only as filler. Ghen you edit your writing, eliminate any words or phrases that can be remo!ed without damaging the meaning of the sentence or paragraph5 <o5 I spent my first si$ weeks on the job in a state of shock, but today I ha!e a completely different perspecti!e on the company in general, as compared to when I first started. ]es5 I spent my first si$ weeks on the job in a state of shock, but today I ha!e a completely different perspecti!e on the company. 7ccasional e$ceptions to this principle may be justified for the sake of emphasis or rhythm. A"#id Red)nd'nc( 2edundancy, the unnecessary repetition of information, is a subset of deadwood, but one that is important enough to deser!e separate mention5 <o5 *rackets are used in a command format description to indicate that the enclosed parameter is optional and, therefore, may be supplied or not at the user0s discretion. ]es5 *rackets are used in a command format description to indicate that the enclosed parameter is optional. 7ccasional e$ceptions to this principle may be justified for the sake of emphasis or coherence. Use Met'$h#& t# Ill)st&'te Betaphor may be broadly defined as an imaginati!e comparison, e$pressed or implied, between two generally unlike things, for the purpose of illustration. *y this definition, similes (e$pressed comparisons are a subset of metaphor. In prose (as opposed to poetry, metaphors are most often used to illustrate, and thus make clear, abstract ideas5 6Ghen two atoms approach each other at great speeds they go through one another, while at moderate speeds they bound off each other like two billiard balls0 (/ir Gilliam *ragg. Ghene!er you use figurati!e language, be careful to a!oid clich>sktrite, o!er worn words or phrases that ha!e lost their power to enli!en your writing. If you can0t think of a fresh, imaginati!e way to e$press an idea, it0s better to e$press it in literal terms than to resort to a clich>. Hence, /ol!ing the problem was as easy as pie. becomes /ol!ing the problem was easy. <ote that e!en solitary nouns, !erbs, and modifiers can be clich>d. ?or e$ample, He0s such a clown. I0!e got to fly. The competition was stiff. 7ften such clich>s are what George 7rwell calls 6dying metaphors0kwords and phrases that were once used figurati!ely, but that now border on the literal. That is, we0!e used these terms so often that we now scarcely consider their figurati!e implications. "s with tone, rhythm, and many of the other stylistic considerations discussed here, you must ultimately rely upon your own sensiti!ity to the language to guide you in determining when a word or phrase is clich>d. ?inally, according to +ollett 3ilworth and 2obert 2eising, the golden rule of writing is ,to write to be read fluently by another human being . . . the most moral reason for obser!ing any specific writing con!ention is that it will shape and facilitate a reader0s understanding, not simply that it will be used 6correctly0.. /o as George 7rwell says in 6#olitics and the Rnglish 1anguage05 6*reak any of these rules sooner than say anything outright barbarous0. Chapter No: 2, STYLISTICS AND POETRY FOCUS ON • (rosody and (oetic !orm • Synta;7 )iction and +ocabulary • Critical Methods • Sound (atterning in (oetry The first part of this chapter will gi!e brief definitions, with e$amples, of the de!ices and linguistic elements that constitute the stylistic character of post=medie!al Rnglish poetry5 prosody and poetic formH metreH rhyme and the stanzaH the sonnetH the odeH blank !erseH free !erseH metaphorH synta$, diction and !ocabulary. ?ollowing this is a section on critical methods, which will include e$amples of how the listed de!ices and linguistic elements are deployed by critics in their attempts to show how poetic style creates particular meanings and effects. P&#s#d( 'nd P#etic F#&m The most basic and enduring definition of poetry is that the poem, unlike any other assembly of words, supplements the use of grammar and synta$ with another system of organization5 the poetic line. The poetic line draws upon the same linguistic raw material as the sentence but deploys and uses this in a different way. 7ur awareness of the grammatical rules which go!ern the way that words are formed into larger units of meaning is based on our ability to recognize the difference between indi!idual words. Gords are made up of sound and stress, identified respecti!ely by the phoneme and the syllable. The function of sound and stress in non=poetic language is functional and utilitarian5 before we understand the operati!e relation between nouns, !erbs, adjecti!es and connecti!es we need to be able to relate the sound and structure of a word to its meaning. Traditional poetry uses stress and sound not only as markers and indicators of meaning but also as a way of measuring and foregrounding the principal structural characteristic of the poem5 the line. In most poems written before the twentieth=century the line is constructed from a combination of two or more of the following elements5 • " specified and predictable number of syllables. The most commonly used e$ample of this is the ten=syllable line, the pentameter. • " metrical pattern consisting of the relation between the stress or emphasis of adjacent syllables. The most fre-uently used metrical pattern in Rnglish in!ol!es the use of the iambic foot, where an emphatic syllable follows a less emphatic one, with occasional !ariations, or 6stress re!ersals0. • Rhyme. The repetition of the phonemic sound of a single syllable at the end of a line. • Assonance and alliteration. The repetition of clusters of similar !owel or consonant sounds within indi!idual lines and across se-uences of lines. The persistent and predictable deployment of two or more of these features is what allows us to recognize the traditional line as an organizing feature of most pre=twentieth=century poems. Met&e The iambic pentameter, consisting of ten syllables with the e!en syllables stressed more emphatically than the odd, is the most fre-uently used line in Rnglish poetry. It is the go!erning principle of /hakespeare0s blank !erseH of non=dramatic blank !erse poems, including Iohn Bilton0s 0aradise Lost (8::; and Gilliam Gordsworth0s 0relude, and of the heroic couplet, the structural centrepiece of most of the poems of Iohn 3ryden and "le$ander #ope. R$amples of its shorter !ersion, the octosyllabic line or tetrameter can be found in many of the couplet poems of /wift, in Batthew "rnolds 6/tanzas from the Grand +hartreuse0 (8&&K, and in "lfred, 1ord Tennyson0s In Bemoriam (8&K4. The iambic pentameter consists of fi!e iambic feet, its tetrameter counterpart of four. The following are e$amples of these, with 6indicating the most emphatic andkthe less emphatic syllables. (from Bilton0s 0aradise Lost (from /wift0s 6+assinus and 0eter0 These are e$amples of stress=syllabic metre, in which a consistent balance is maintained between the number of syllables of a line and its stress pattern. "lternati!e stress syllabic lines include se!en=syllable tetrameters (see Gilliam *lake0s 6The Tyger0, which are comprised of three iambic feet and a single stressed syllable, 1ines such as this, with an odd number of syllables, can also be scanned as trochaic The trochaic foot more fre-uently features as a substitute or !ariation in a line of iambic feet. This occurs in the first foot of /hakespeare0s line5 /tress=syllabic lines consisting of three=syllable feet are generally associated with comic poetry and song. The three syllable foot creates a rhythmic pattern that de!iates from the modulation of ordinary speech far more than its two syllable counterpartH as in 7li!er Goldsmith0s couplet, consisting of anapestic (((Lfeet. /ome poems !ary the syllabic length of a line, while maintaining the same number of emphatic or stressed syllables in each. This is called pure stress metre. "n early e$ample of pure stress metre is /amuel Taylor +oleridge0s 6+hristabel0 (8&8: and a more recent one occurs in T. /. Rliot0s 6"sh Gednesday0 (8@%4, in which the differing length of each line is anchored to a repeated pattern of two major stresses. 1Cdy of si ences +Clm and distr>ssed T‹rn and most whole 2‹se of m>mory The internal structure of the poetic line is only one element of its function as the organizing principle of poetry. Rh(me 'nd The St'nF' 2hyme binds lines together into larger structural units. The smallest of these is the couplet, rhyming aa bb cc (as in the majority of poems by 3ryden, #ope and Ionathan /wift. Bore comple$ rhyme schemes enable the poet to create stanzas, the simplest of these being the -uatrain, rhyming abab. (The octosyllabic -uatrain is used by Iohn 3onne in 6The Rcstasy and its pentameter counter=part in Thomas Grays 6Rlegy Gritten in a +ountry +hurchyard0 (8;K8. The stanza can play a number of roles in the broader structure of the poem. <arrati!e poems, which tell a story, often use the stanza as a way of emphasizing a particular e!ent or obser!ation while tying this into the broader narrati!e (as in Rdmund /penser0s long The /aerie Zueene, Iohn Feats0s The 've of &t Agnes and 1ord *yron0s Don ;uan. Tennyson0s 8n .emoriam uses the so=called 6en!elope stanza0 (a b b a. This couplet within a couplet pro!ides a formal counterpoint to the tragic or emotional focus of each stanza. /horter, lyric poems which focus on a specific sensation, feeling or single e!ent often use the stanza as a counterpoint to impro!isation and spontaneity. 3onne0s 6The 2elic0 consists of three !ery complicated stanzas. & syllables Ghen my gra!e is broke up again & syllables /ome second guest to entertain, & syllables (?or gra!es ha!e learned that woman=head & syllables To be to more than one a bed : syllables "nd he that digs it spies 84 syllables " bracelet of bright hair about the bone, ; syllables Gill he not let us alone 84 syllables "nd think that there a lo!ing couple lies, 84 syllables Gho thought that this de!ice might be some way 84 syllables To make their souls, at the last busy day 84 syllables Beet at this gra!e, and make a little stayJ 7n the one hand the comple$ permutations of line length and rhyme scheme create the impression of fle$ibility and impro!isation, as if the metrical structure of the poem is responding to and following the !aried emphases of speech. *ut this stanzaic structure is repeated, with admirable precision, three timesH and as we read the poem in its entirety we find that the fle$ibility of the synta$ is matched by the insistent infle$ibility of the stanza. The S#nnet The sonnet resembles the stanza in that it consists of an integrated unit of metre and rhyme5 the /hakespearian sonnet consisting of three iambic pentameter -uatrains followed by an iambic pentameter couplet, its #etrarchan counterpart rhyming abba abba cdc dcd. It differs from the stanza in that the sonnet is a complete poem. Bost sonnets will emphasize a particular e!ent or theme and tie this into the symmetries, repetitions and parallels of its metrical and rhyming structure. The Ode The most fle$ible and !ariable stanzaic form will be found in the ode. Gordsworth0s 6?de on 8ntimations of 8mmortality0 consists of ele!en sections. Rach of these has a pattern of metre and rhyme just as comple$ and !aried as 3onne0s stanza in 6The Relic0, e$cept that in the 6Immortality 7de0 the same pattern is ne!er repeated. The open, fle$ible structure of the ode is well suited to its use, especially by the 2omantic poets, as a medium for personal reflectionH it rarely tells a particular story, and it eschews logical and systematic argument in fa!our of an apparently random se-uence of -uestions, hypotheses and comparisons. Cl'n, Ve&se " form which offers a similar degree of freedom from formal regularity is blank !erse, consisting of unrhymed iambic pentameters. #rior to Bilton0s 0aradise Lost blank !erse was regarded as a mi$ture of poetry and prose. It was thought appropriate only for drama, in which language could be recognizably poetic (i.e. metrical while maintaining realistic elements of dialogue and ordinary speech (without rhyme. 0aradise Lost offered blank !erse as an alternati!e to the use of the stanza or the couplet in longer narrati!e or descripti!e poems. Bilton0s blank !erse creates a subtle tension between the iambic pattern of each line and the broader flow across lines of descripti!e or impassioned speech (see below, &ynta(, Diction and %ocabulary for an e$ample. " similar balance between discursi!e or reflecti!e language and the metrical undertow of the blank !erse line is found in the eighteenth=century tradition of landscape poems (see Iames Thomson0s The &easons and Gilliam +owper0s The Task and in Gordsworth0s 6Tintern Abbey’ and The 0relude. The most fle$ible e$amples of blank !erse, where it becomes difficult to distinguish between prose rhythm and metre, are found in the poems of 2obert *rowning, particularly The Ring and the )ook (8&:&(@5 /o 3id I stand -uestion and make answer, still Gith the same result of smiling disbelief, #olite impossibility of faith. F&ee Ve&se *efore the twentieth=century, poems which in!ol!ed neither rhyme nor the metrical pattern of blank !erse were rare. +hristopher /mart0s ;ubilate Agno (8;K: and Galt Ghitman0s Leaves of Crass (8&KK replaced traditional metre with patterns redolent of biblical phrasing and intonation, and *lake in his later !isionary poems (8;&@(8&8K de!ised a !ery indi!idual form of free !erse. It was not until this century that free !erse became an established part of the formal repertoire of Rnglish poetry. ?ree !erse (from the ?rench vers libre is only free in the sense that it does not conform to traditional patterns of metre and rhyme. The poetic line is maintained as a structural counterpoint to synta$, but is not definable in abstract metrical terms. ?ree !erse can be di!ided into three basic categories5 8. #oetry which continues and e$tends the least restricti!e elements of traditional poetry, particularly those of the ode and blank !erse. T. /. Rliot0s 6The 1o!e /ong of I. "lfred #rufrock0 (8@8; is a monologue with an unpredictable rhyme scheme and a rhythmic structure that in!okes traditional metre but refuses to maintain a regular beat or pattern. " similar effect is achie!ed in G. H. "uden0s 6Bus>e des *eau$ "rts0. In The /our Zuartets (8@%K(') Rliot often uses an unrhymed form that resembles blank !erse, of which the following, from the beginning of 61ittle Gidding0, is an e$ample5 Bidwinter spring is its own season />mpit>rnal though s‹dden towards sundown, /uspended in time, between p‹le and tr‹pic. The lines of the poem !ary between @ and 8% syllables. 2egular metre is replaced by the distribution of three to fi!e major stresses across each line. "lthough the lines cannot be scanned according to e$pectations of regularity they do create the impression that Rliot is gi!ing special attention to rhythmic structure. ). #oems in which the line structure reflects the apparent spontaneity of ordinary speech, where, unlike in 61ittle Gidding0, no concessions are made to a metrical undertow. 1ine di!isions will often be used as an imitation of the process through which we transform thoughts, impressions and e$periences into language. Rasthope (8@&% calls this form 6intonational metre0. " typical e$ample of this is 3.H. 1awrence0s 6/nake0. " snake came to my water=trough 7n a hot, hot day, and I in pyjamas for the heat, To drink there. %. #oems in which the unmetrical line !ariously obstructs, de!iates from or interferes with the mo!ement of synta$. In Rzra #ound0s 6In a /tation of the Betro0 the two lines function as an alternati!e to the continuities of grammar. The apparition of those faces in the crowd #etals on a wet black bough. The space between the lines could be filled by a !ariety of imagined connecting phrases5 6are like0, 6are unlike0, 6remind me of0, 6are as lonely as0. Indi!idual lines offer specific images or impressions5 the reader makes connections between them. In Gilliam +arlos Gilliams0s 6/pring and "ll0 the line structure orchestrates the synta$ and creates a comple$ network of hesitations and progressions. The most e$treme e$ample of how the free !erse line can appropriate and disrupt the structural functions of synta$ will be found in the poems of e. e. cummings, where the linear mo!ement of language is effecti!ely broken down into !isual units. The best, brief guide to the mechanics of prosody and metre is Hobsbaum0s .etre, Rhythm and %erse /orm (8@@:. " more methodical sur!ey of linguistics and poetic form is *radford0s A Linguistic "istory of 'nglish 0oetry (8@@%. T. A. ?. *rogan0s 'nglish %ersification 8K;4(8@&4 (8@&8 pro!ides a comprehensi!e annotated bibliography of works on all types of metre and !erse form. Met'$h#& Betaphor is deri!ed from the Greek !erb that means 6to carry o!er0. Ghen words are used metaphorically, one field of reference is carried o!er or transferred into another. Gordsworth (in 62esolution and Independence0 states that 6The sky rejoices in the morning0s birth.0 He carries o!er two !ery human attributes to the non=human phenomena of the sky and the morning5 the ability to rejoice and to gi!e birth. I. ". 2ichards (8@%: de!ised a formula that enables us to specify the process of carrying o!er. The 6tenor0 of the metaphor is its principal subject, the topic addressed5 in Gordsworth0s line the tenor is the speaker0s perception of the sky and the morning. The 6!ehicle0 is the analogue or the subject carried o!er from another field of reference to that of the subject5 in Gordsworth0s line the acti!ities of rejoicing and gi!ing birth. Betaphor is often referred to as a poetic de!ice but it is not e$clusi!e to poetry. Betaphors will be found in newspaper articles on economics5 6The war h!ehiclei against inflation htenori0H in ordinary con!ersation5 6"t yesterdays meeting htenori I broke the ice h!ehiclei0H in no!els5 6He cowered in the shadow h!ehiclei of the thought htenori0 (Iames Ioyce0s " #ortrait of the "rtist as a ]oung BanH and in ad!ertisements5 6This car is as good on paper h!ehiclei as it is on the road htenori0. The principal difference between Gordsworth0s metaphor and its non=poetic counterparts is its integration with the iambic pentameter. Ge could retain the metaphor and lose the metreH turn it into the kind of unmetrical sentence that might open a short story or a no!el5 6I watched the sky rejoice in the birth of the morning.0 7ne thing lost is the way in which the pentameter organizes and emphasizes the tenor and !ehicle of the metaphorksky r j‹ic s and m‹r ing0s birth. In order to properly consider differences between poetic and non=poetic uses of metaphor we should add a third element to tenor and !ehicle5 the ground of the metaphor (see 1eech, 8@:@58K8. The ground is essentially the conte$t and moti!ation of the metaphor. ?or the journalist the ground of the metaphor is the general topic of economics and inflation and the particular point that heLshe is attempting to make about these issues. ?or the con!ersationalist the ground is the awareness, shared with the addressee, of yesterday0s meeting and hisLher role in it. ?or the ad!ertiser the ground in!ol!es the rest of the ad!ertisement, gi!ing details of the make, price and performance of the car, and the general conte$t in which cars are discussed and sold. In non=poetic uses of metaphor the ground or conte$t stabilizes the relation between tenor and !ehicle. The metaphor will in!ol!e a self=conscious departure from the routine and familiar relationship between language and reality. It would be regarded as bizarre and mildly disturbing if the con!ersationalist were to allow the original metaphor to dominate the rest of hisLher discourse5 6I sank through the broken ice into the cold water of the boardroom. There we all were5 fishes swimming through a dark hostile worldl0. In poems, howe!er, this relation between ground, tenor and !ehicle is often re!ersed. It is the language of the poem, as much as the reader0s priori knowledge, which creates its percei!ed situation and conte$t. It constructs its own ground, and metaphor becomes less a departure from conte$tual terms and conditions and more a de!ice which appropriates and e!en establishes them. In Iohn 3onne0s 6The ?lea0 the tenor is the insect itself and the bite it has inflicted on the male speaker and the female listener. The speaker carries o!er this tenor into such an enormous di!ersity of !ehicles that it becomes difficult to distinguish between the ground outside the words of the te$t and the ground which the te$t appropriates and continually transforms. This flea is you and I, and this 7ur marriage bed and marriage temple is. Ge know that 6this flea is the tenor, but the relation between tenor and ground becomes less certain with 6is you and I0. 7n the one hand it is literally part of them since it has sucked and mi$ed their blood. 7n the other the speaker has already incorporated this image of physical unity into a !ehicle in!ol!ing their emotional and se$ual li!es. He builds on this with the !ehicle of the 6marriage bed0 and e$tends it into an image of spiritual, e$ternal unity in the 6marriage temple0. Throughout the poem the flea and the bite become gradually detached from their actual conte$t and threaded into a chain of speculati!e and fantastic associations. In ordinary language metaphor usually stands out from the rest of the discursi!e or factual nature of the statement. In poetry a particular use of metaphor will often underpin and influence the major themes of the entire te$t. 3onne0s 6The Rcstasy0 opens with a simile (the bank 6is like0 a pillow, rather than 6is0 a pillow but thereafter maintains a close, metaphoric, relation between tenor and !ehicle, Ghere, like a pillow on a bed, " pregnant bank swelled up to rest The !iolet0s reclining head /at we two, one another0s bestH The tenor is the garden in which 6we two0 are situatedH the !ehicle is a combination of images denoting intimacy and se$uality5 pillow, bed, pregnant, swelled up, the !iolets (flower, denoting female reclining head. This opening instance of the carrying o!er of rural horticultural images into the sphere of human se$uality becomes the predominant theme of the entire poem, underpinning more ad!enturous speculations on the nature of the soul. "gain the dynamics of contrasting and associating !erbal images has unsettled the stabilizing function of ground or conte$t. 3onne is one of the so=called metaphysical schools of poetic writers whose taste for e$tended metaphor is a principal characteristic of their !erse, but the practice of creating tensions and associations between the words and images of the poem at the e$pense of an e$ternal conte$t transcends schools, fashions and historical groupings. In Feats0s 67de to a <ightingale0 the image of the real bird becomes a springboard for a comple$ se-uence of associations and resonances5 song, poetry, immortality, age, youth and death. The sense of there being a specific place and time in which Feats saw the bird and heard its song is gradually replaced by the dynamics of Feats0s associati!e faculties5 the relation between the !ehicles unsettles the relation between !ehicle and tenor. The following is from the beginning of stanza %5 ?ade far away, dissol!e, and -uite forget Ghat thou among the lea!es hast ne!er known, The weariness, the fe!er, and the fret Here, where men sit and hear each other groanH The principal !ehicle is Feats0s transformation of the bird into an apparently ratiocinati!e, cogniti!e addressee, who understands his words. This at the same time is unsettled by his constant return to the commonsense tenor of a bird without human faculties. The dynamic tension here becomes e!ident in Feats0s contradictory re-uest that the nightingale should 6forget0 those human -ualities or frailties which, as he concedes in the ne$t line, it had ne!er and could ne!er ha!e known. " classic case of !ehicle undermining tenor occurs in T. /. Rliot0s The 1o!e /ong of I. "lfred #rufrock0 (lines 8K()). This begins with the tenor (the city fog being carried o!er into the !ehicle of an unspecified animal which 6rubs its back upon the window=panes0, 6rubs its muzzle on the window=panes0, 61icked its tongue into the corners of the e!ening0. *y the end of the passage the actual !ision of city streets which inspired the comparison has been o!ertaken by the physical presence of this strange beast, which 6seeing that it was a soft 7ctober night,L+urled once about the house, and fell asleep0. Betaphor is the most economical, ad!enturous and concentrated e$ample of the general principle of 6carrying o!er0. /amuel Iohnson defined metaphor in his 3ictionary (8;KK as 6a simile compressed in a word0. 3onne0s metaphor (from 6The 2elic0, 6a bracelet of bright hair about the bone0, would, as a simile, be something like5 6the brightness of the hair about the bone reminds me of the difference between life and death0. /imile postulates the comparison5 O is like ]. Betaphor synthesizes the comparison5 O is ]. Betonymy is logical metaphor, in which the comparison is founded upon an actual, !erifiable relation between objects or impressions5 6crown is used instead of 6king0, 6-ueen0 or 6royalty0. "llegory in!ol!es an e$tended parallel between a narrati!e and a subte$t which mirrors the relation between the te$t and reality. /penser0s The /aerie Zueen (8K@4(: is a medie!al fantasy with allegorical parallels in the real world of the Rlizabethan court. /imile, metonymy and allegory establish a balanced relationship between the use of language and con!entional perceptions of reality, and occur as fre-uently in non=poetic discourse as in poetry. Betaphor in!ol!es language in an unbalancing of perceptions of reality and is more closely allied to the e$perimental character of poetry. S(nt'3- Dicti#n 'nd V#c'0)l'&( The terms 6poetic diction0 and 6poetic synta$0 should be treated with caution. "ny word, clause, phrase, grammatical habit or locution used in non=poetic language can be used in poetry. *ut their presence within the poem will subtly alter their familiar non=poetic function. ?or e$ample, in 3onne0s 6The ?lea0 the speaker reflects upon the likely objections to his proposal to the woman5 Though parents grudge, and you, we are met "nd cloistered in these li!ing walls of jet. Ge might e$plain the use of the phrase 6and you0 as a result of hurried and impro!ised speech. (6Though you and your parents grudge0 would be a more correct form. *ut the fact that the placing of the phrase maintains the mo!ement of the iambic metre and the symmetry of the two lines of the couplet shows us that the speech is anything but impro!ised. The metrical structure of a poem can accommodate the apparent hesitations and spontaneities of ordinary speech, but at the same time fi$ them as parts of a carefully structured artefact. +onsider what happens when synta$ crosses the space between two poetic lines, an effect known as enjambment. " classic e$ample of this occurs in the opening lines of Bilton0s 0aradise Lost 7f Ban0s first disobedience, and the fruit 7f that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste The implied pause at the line ending might suggest, on Bilton0s part, a slight moment of indecision5 is he thinking of the figurati!e 6fruit0 (that is, the result and conse-uences of man0s disobedience, or the literal fruit of the act of disobedienceJ He chooses the latter. The placing of the word might also be interpreted as the complete opposite of fleeting indecision. The tension between the actuality of the fruit and the uncertain conse-uences of eating it is a fundamental theme of the poem, and Bilton encodes this tension within the form of the poem e!en before its narrati!e begins. In non=poetic language the progress of synta$ can be influenced by a number of e$ternal factors5 an act or !erbal interruption by someone else, the uncertainty of the speaker or the fraught circumstances of the speech act5 known in stylistics as the pragmatic or functional registers of language. ?or e$ample, con!ersations often consist of broken, incomplete syntactic units because both speakers are contributing to the same discourse, which will also in!ol!e a shared non=!erbal frame of reference5 61ook at this, itsl0 6Gell, it0s big enough0, 6Ghoa, sorry.0 6It0s 7F, it0ll clean up.0 In poetry apparent hesitations or disturbances of synta$ are a function of the carefully planned, integrated structure of the te$t. The ability of poetry to absorb and re=conte$tualize the de!ices and registers of non= poetic language is e!ident also in its use of diction, !ocabulary and phrasing. The social or local associations of particular words or locutionary habits can be carried into a poem but their familiar conte$t will be transformed by their new structural framework. In Tony Harrison0s A (8@&K the poet con!erses in a 1eeds cemetery with an imagined skinhead whose hobbies include the spraying of graffiti on to gra!estones5 61isten cunte0 I said, 6*efore you start your jeering The reason why I want this in a book 0s to gi!e ungrateful cunts like you a hearinge0 A book, yer stupid cunts not worth a fuck* The diction and idiom of both speakers is working class and <orthern, but this specific, locati!e resonance is itself contained within a separate language, with its own con!entions5 each regional idiomatic flourish is confidently, almost elegantly, reconciled to the demands of the iambic pentameter and the -uatrain. The realistic crudity of the language is ju$taposed with the controlled irony of Harrison0s formal design5 the skinhead0s real presence is appropriated to the unreal structure of the poem, in!ol!ing the internal and e$ternal rhymes, 6book0 and 6fuck0. In a broader conte$t, the language of working=class 1eeds is integrated with the same stanzaic structure used by Gray in his 6Rlegy Gritten in a +ountry +hurchyard0, in which the poet similarly appropriates the !oice of a 6hoary=headed swain0. Haply some hoary=headed swain may say, 67ft ha!e we seen him at the peep of dawn *rushing with hasty steps the dews away To meet the sun upon the upland lawn. Gray0s and Harrison0s language and e$perience are centuries and worlds apartkthe diction of the hoary=headed indi!idual is rather more delicate than that of his skinheaded counterpart kbut their differences are counterpointed against their enclosure within the same ahistorical stanzaic framework. This tendency for poetry to represent and at the same time colonize the habits of non= poetic discourse is a parado$ that has ta$ed poets and criticskmost famously in Gordsworth0s 0reface to Lyrical )allads (8;@&. Gordsworth rails against the stultifying poeticization of ordinary language, of how the con!entions and style of eighteenth=century !erse had dispossessed poetry of the 6real language of men0. *ut while he ad!ocates a new kind of poetic writing he concedes that poetry must announce its difference in a way that will 6entirely separate the composition from the !ulgarity and meanness of ordinary life0. In short, although poetry should be about 6ordinary life0 it must by its !ery nature be separate from it. 3. H. 1awrence0s poems in the <ottinghamshire dialect, 2obert *urns0s and Hugh Bac3iarmid0s use of /cots idiom, grammar and diction emphasize region and !ery often class, but no matter where the words come from or what social or political affiliations they carry, they are always appropriated and acted upon by the internal structures of poetry. Gordsworth0s desire to separate poetry from the Aulgarity and meanness of ordinary life0 sounds suspiciously elitist and e$clusi!e, and there is e!idence of this in the work of a number of our most celebrated poets. In #art II of The Gaste 1and (8@)) Rliot represents the speech patterns and, so he assumes, the concerns of working=class women5 <ow "lbert0s coming back, make yourself a bit smart. He0ll want to know what you done with that money he ga!e you To get yourself some teeth. Ge will be e$pected to note the difference between this passage and the sophisticated command of metre and multicultural references of the poem0s principal male !oice, Tiresias. Gith whom would we associate T. /. RliotJ Tiresias or the womenJ The sense of poetry as carrying social and political allegiances (principally male, white, Rnglish, middle class, educated has prompted acts of stylistic re!olution. Gilliam +arlos Gilliams in the free !erse of &pring and All and #aterson (8@':(K& effecti!ely discards those con!entions of rhyme and metre that restrict his use of ordinary "merican phrasing and !ocabulary. 1inton Fwesi Iohnson makes the structure of his poems respond to the character of his language. *ut lo!e is just a wordH gi!e it BR"< I< thru H"+F/H"<. 6BR"<I<0 and 6H"+F/H"<0 are words appropriated from 6standard0 Rnglish by Gest Indians, and the fact that Iohnson has used poetry to emphasize their ownership is significant. The unusual concentrations and foregroundings of poetry can unsettle just as much as they can underpin the allegiances and ideologies of diction and !ocabulary. C&itic'l Meth#ds /o far we ha!e considered three principal characteristics of poetry and the e$tent to which they contribute to stylistics5 metre and prosodyH metaphorH diction and !ocabulary. In doing so we ha!e maintained a degree of continuity with rhetoric5 we ha!e listed, documented, defined and specified. 7ne of the main differences between the stylistics of modern criticism and rhetoric is that modern critics ha!e been especially interested in showing how these different elements combine to produce effects that are uni-ue to poems. In what follows we shall consider e$amples of how te$tualist critics ha!e attempted to cross the di!ide between the documentation of style and the description of uni-uely poetic effects. In the first chapter of &even Types of Ambiguity (8@%4 Gilliam Rmpson discusses the ways in which the sound patterns of poetry create a fabric of meaning which can both supplement and de!iate from the con!entional structures of grammar, synta$ and semantics. "t one point he considers an e$tract from *rowning. I want to know a butcher paints, " baker rhymes for his pursuit, +andlestick=maker much ac-uaints His soul with song, or, haply mute, *lows out his brains upon the flute. Rmpson obser!es that the stanza is ambiguous in that it connotes at least three le!els of meaning. He notes their operations in the first line. I want to know what the whole class of butchers paints, I want to know what some one butcher paints, I want to know personally a butcher who paints. Rmpson comments5 6The demands of metre allow the poet to say something which is not normal collo-uial Rnglish, so that the reader thinks of the collo-uial forms which are near to it, and puts them togetherH weighing their probabilities in proportion to their nearness. It is for such reasons as this that poetry can be more compact, while seeming to be less precise, than prose0 (from reprint in 1odge, 8@;)5K:. His argument is founded upon two principles5 (8 Betre and rhyme pro!ide a system of organization which centralizes what, in prose, would be unfocusedH () Qnlike in prose, where we attempt to resol!e the ambiguity into a specific referential meaning, we should regard poetic ambiguity as an element of dynamic meaning. +leanth *rooks, in another classic of te$tualist stylistics, The !ell !rought Mrn (8@';, employs a similar method in relation to poetic parado$. The following is his discussion of the closing two lines of Gordsworth0s sonnet 6+omposed Qpon Gestminster *ridge05 3ear Gode the !ery houses seem asleepH "nd all that mighty heart is lying stille To say they are 6asleep0 is to say they are ali!e, that they participate in the life of naturel. It is only when the poet sees the city under the semblance of death hheart is lying stilli that he can see it as actually ali!e. (1odge, 8@;)5)@' *rooks regards the entire poem as underpinned by a fundamental set of parado$es (principally, awakeLasleep, lifeLdeath. In ordinary language we attempt to distinguish between themH in poetry they are stylistically telescoped into delicate nuances of contrast and combination. Rmpson0s and *rooks0s practice is a mode of stylistic criticism that is summed up in the following way in a book by *rooks and 2obert #enn Garren, called Mnderstanding 0oetry (8@%&5):(;5 hthe poeti cannot assemble them han episode, a metaphor, a phrase, a metrical de!icei in a merely arbitrary fashionH they must bear some relation to each other. /o he de!elops his sense of the wholelit modifies the process by which the poet selects and relates the parts, the words, images, rhythms, local ideas, e!ents etcl. It is an infinitely complicated process of establishing interrelations. This model of poetic structure positions the poet as the pi!ot between the stylistic features that define poetry and the broader network of relations between language and meaning. The poet will both dispose language in order to construct a formal unity within the te$t, and establish 6interrelations0 between this structural entity and the real world. The theoretical underpinnings of this thesis are e$plored in two seminal @ew +ritical essays, Iohn +rowe 2ansom0s 6+riticism Inc.0 (8@%; and G. F. Gimsatt and B. *eardsley0s 6The Intentional ?allacy0 (in Gimsatt, 8@K'. 2ansom accepts that the topics and issues found in literary te$ts, such as se$, God, politics and social mores, are the subjects of academic disciplines such as history, sociology and philosophy. He argues that literary criticism is different from these because it is as much concerned with the processes of stylistic refraction as it is with the topics and ideas mediated by the literary te$t. Gimsatt and *eardsley promote the same premise in their e$amination of the linguistic and situational elements of intention. They assert that the non=literary concept of intention, in which the linguistic declaration is rooted in !erifiable conditions and circumstances, is in!alid and fallacious in literary criticism. The speaker of the poem is not the channel for an intended messageH rather, speaker, circumstances, conditions and message are !ariously constructed and distorted by the stylistic fabric of the poem. Feats0s 67de to a <ightingale0 in!ol!es a speaker and a speech act. " non=poetic speech act might in!ol!e similar uncertainties, contradictions and irregularities, and we would attempt to resol!e these by predicating them upon an assumed intention on the part of the speaker to deli!er a particular message for a particular reason. Gimsatt and *eardsley, and 2ansom, would argue that the uncertainties and ambiguities of Feats0s speech act should not be resol!ed or paraphrased in terms of the actual intention or set of circumstances that might ha!e precipitated them. 7n the contrary, these uncertainties should be seen as a continuous, un=resol!able interplay of potential intentions and meanings, detached from the causal relation between thought and e$pression in non=poetic language. <ew +ritical stylistics is concerned not only with the identification of linguistic features that make poetry different from other discourses, but with poetry as a form of signification which mysteriously transforms the familiar relationship between language and meaning. I. ". 2ichards, whose definition of metaphor we ha!e already considered, insists that although his terminology and frame of reference are founded upon non=literary linguistics, the effects produced by poetry are not easily reducible to predictable, scientific models of language. He -ualifies his distinction between !ehicle (de!ice and tenor (meaning5 6the !ehicle is not normally a mere embellishment of a tenor which is otherwise unchanged by it butl!ehicle and tenor in co=operation gi!e a meaning of more !aried powers than can be ascribed to either0 (8@%:5844. In short when !ehicle and tenor are combined the relation between the meanings of the words used becomes more significant than the relation between each word and its specific meaning. 2oman Iakobson is a critic who has combined the <ew +ritics0 respect for the refractory mysteries of poetic language with a far more rigorous programme of linguistic analysis. Iakobson began his work on linguistics and poetry during the ?ormalist heyday between 8@44 and the 8@)4s, but the "nglo="merican branch of literary studies only became fully aware of his ideas on the publication of his 8@:4 paper, 6+losing /tatement5 Linguistics and 0oetics0, which incorporates the most significant elements of fifty years0 work on both topics. Iakobson0s model of language is founded upon /aussure0s thesis that there are three le!els of interaction between language and meaning5 signifier (the !isual or phonemic substance of the wordH signified (the concept or image represented by the wordH referent (the pre=linguistic object or condition. Iakobson, again drawing upon /aussure, de!eloped a systematic framework for the analysis of the signifierLsignified relationship within the broader structures of language. This in!ol!es a continuous tension between what he calls the combinati!e and the selecti!e a$es of language and pro!ides the basis for his most -uoted and widely debated definition of poetry, the projection principle5 6The poetic function projects the principle of e-ui!alence from the a$is of selection into the a$is of combination0 (8@&&5%@H first pub. 8@:4. These two a$es can be represented as follows5 The a$is of combination in!ol!es the system of rules and con!entions (grammar and synta$ through which indi!idual words are combined into larger units of meaningkthe dominant, all=purpose unit of combination being the sentence or in Iakobson0s terms the syntagmatic chain. The a$is of selection in!ol!es the choices made at each stage in the syntagm from the different words a!ailable for each grammatical class or typekin Iakobson0s terms paradigmatic selection. ?or e$ample, in order to describe the progress of a person along the street we might use different !erbs to describe the same acti!ity5 the person walksH strollsH mo!esH strideskwe can choose different !erbs from the selecti!e a$is while maintaining the same syntagmatic combinati!e formula (article=noun=!erb. The principle of e-ui!alence in!ol!es the matching of the two a$esH first in terms of the rules of the syntagmatic chain (6Its person is walk0 is grammatically incorrect, and secondly in terms of the agreed or 6e-ui!alent0 relation between the rules of the syntagm and the percei!ed relation between language (signifier and signified and the pre=linguistic world (the referent. If I stated that 6" tree walks0 I would ha!e satisfied the rules of the syntagm (6walks0, like 6grows0 or 6li!es0 is a !erb used in its correct grammatical position, but I would ha!e disrupted the percei!ed or e-ui!alent relation between language and the pre= linguistic world5 trees as far as we know cannot and do not walk. This unusual and une$pected use of the selecti!e a$is is the basic principle of metaphor. Iakobson claims that 6for poetry, metaphorkand for prose metonymykis the line of least resistance and conse-uently the study of poetical tropes is directed chiefly towards metaphor0 (Iakobson and Halle, 8@K:5@K(:. This does not mean that all prosaic language is metonymicH rather that metonymy is more indicati!e of the logic of prose while metaphor embodies the fundamental illogic of poetry. Betonymy in!ol!es a comparison between two conditions or elements that ha!e a pre=established connection in the empirical world. Ge fre-uently refer to elements of monarchical go!ernment in terms of 6the crown0 (crown forces, crown lands, etc.H and we might refer to a person0s car as 6her wheels0. Betonymy in!ol!es the substitution of one element of an object or condition for its entiretyH and, as Iakobson argues, it embodies the go!erning principle of prosaic, non=poetic language5 that language should reflect and articulate the percei!ed condition of the e$ternal world. Betaphor, con!ersely, uses the selecti!e a$is to !ariously disrupt and refocus the percei!ed relation between language and reality. In 3onne0s 6The ?lea0, the speaker effects a number of radical shifts from the logic of metonymy to the more ad!enturous illogic of metaphor. THE FLEA Bark but this flea, and mark in this, How little that which thou deny0st me isH Be it sucked first, and now sucks thee, "nd in this flea, our two bloods mingled beH +onfess it, this cannot be said " sin, or shame, or loss of maidenhead, ]et this enjoys before it woo, "nd pampered swells with one blood made of two, "nd this, alas, is more than we would do. 7h stay, three li!es in one flea spare, Ghere we almost, nay more than married are5 This flea is you and I, and this 7ur marriage bed, and marriage temple isH Though parents grudge, and you, we are met, "nd cloistered in these li!ing walls of jet. Though use make thee apt to kill me, 1et not to this, self murder added be, "nd sacrilege, three sins in killing three. +ruel and sudden, hast thou since #urpled thy nail, in blood of innocenceJ In what could this flea guilty be, R$cept in that drop which it sucked from theeJ ]et thou triumph0st and say0st that thou ?ind0st not thyself, nor me the weaker nowH 0Tis true, then learn how false, fears beH Iust so much honour, when thou yield0st to me, Gill waste, as this flea0s death took life from thee. In the first stanza the speaker combines !erifiable fact (the flea has bitten both of them with broader issues of se$ual morality (a sin, or shame, or loss of maidenheadH and in the second stanza the logic of metonymy is transformed into the persuasi!e anti=logic of metaphor. The literal combining of blood becomes the figurati!e, metaphoric image of 6three li!es0 and 6more than married0H the actual mi$ing of their physical presences (this flea is you and I is transmuted into a compound metaphor in!ol!ing their 6marriage0 bed and temple, religious symbolism (6cloistered in these li!ing walls of jet0, and the literal and figurati!e 6murder0 of their relationship. This procedure in!ol!es a gradual shift from the a$is of combination, in which words are combined according to the logical, functional meaning (the flea bite and the literal mi$ing of their blood towards an e$tended metaphor in which the discourse is dominated by the selection of words which create new and une$pected le!els of meaning. The continuous and persistent use of metaphor in a te$t does not automatically define it as a poem. "s Iakobson argues, 6The principle of similarity underlies poetryH the metrical parallelism of lines or the phonic e-ui!alence of rhyming words prompts the -uestion of semantic similarity or contrastH there e$ist, for instance, grammatical and anti=grammatical but ne!er agrammatical rhymes0 (8@&;588'. "long with their projection of the a$is of selection into the a$is of combination (metaphor, poems also create a continuous le!el of interference between poetic form (metre, rhyme, assonance and alliteration and the practical, non=poetic registers of synta$ and semantics. +onsider the way in which the internal and e$ternal rhymes of 6The ?lea0 tend to fi$ our attention on the tenor (the flea and flea bite of the metaphor5 6this flea0, 6in this0 6me is0, 6Be0, 6thee0, 6be0, 6This flea0, 6and this0, 6temple is0, 6kill me0, 6added be0, 6killing three0, 6guilty be0, 6from thee0, 6fears be0, 6to me0, 6from thee0. The principal themes of the speaker0s argument are drawn into a network of semantic and phonetic associationskmainly 6this flea 6is0 6thee0 6be0 6me0kthat creates an almost subliminal counterpart to the metaphor. "s Iakobson states, the logical meaning of the words of a poem is tied into a system of phonemic and rhythmic similarities and parallels5 in this case the persuasi!e echoes of the rhyme scheme insinuate themsel!es into the rhetoric of the e$tended metaphor. Iakobson0s discussions of how poetry combines rhetorical de!ices such as metaphor with sound patterns are far more methodical, more grounded in the techni-ues of linguistics, than those of his <ew +ritical counterparts. His most significant contribution to the stylistics of poetry is the application of this disciplinary rigour to the rather !ague <ew +ritical model of the relation between the poem and the non=poetic world of language and e!ents. He writes5 <ot only the message hof poetryi but also its addresser and addressee become ambiguouslthe supremacy of the poetic function o!er the referential function does not obliterate the message but makes it ambiguous. The double sensed message finds correspondence in a split addresser, in a split addressee as well as in a split reference. (8@&&5K4H first pub. 8@:4 This sense of a split frame of reference seems to correspond with Rmpson0s and *rooks0s notions of ambiguity and parado$, but Iakobson0s model is far more comprehensi!e, in that it is founded upon a model of linguistic interaction which, he claims, underpins all speech acts. He represents this in a diagram. The parts of the diagram in upper=case letters refer mainly to the physical and conte$tual elements of any act of !erbal communication. The +7<TROT in which the act takes place will influence the degree of +7<T"+T between "332R//R2 and "332R//RR. "ll of these will affect the nature of the BR//"GR and the form or style in which the message is deli!ered, its +73R. In turn, these physical and conte$tual factors will influence the parts of the diagram in brackets, which refer mainly to the actual structure and meaning of the language in a particular act of communication. If we speak on the telephone we generally need to establish that the addresser is who we e$pect himLher to be. +onse-uently this establishment of a contact function will cause us to use phatic utterances (i.e. not specifically related to the meaning or intention of the message that would be unnecessary in face=to=face e$changes (6Helloe Is that youJ0. The conte$t of the speech act can alter its code. If at a dinner table we ask our new boss whether heLshe is enjoying the meal we are unlikely to use the same code as the one employed to deli!er the same en-uiry o!er the breakfast table to our partner of twenty years, or our grouchy three= year=old son. The code of the utterance is changeable and these changes are a function of metalingual transferences. Betalanguage (deri!ing from the same root as metaphork carrying o!er in!ol!es, in simple terms, saying or referring to the same thing in a different way, or paraphrasing, e$plaining what has already been said. 6How are youJ0, 6"re you wellJ0, 6How are you feelingJ0, 6Has your condition alteredJ0 are all metalingual substitutes which in!ol!e a slight alteration in the code to deli!er the same message. The diagram is founded upon the cause=and=effect principles of sociolinguistics, in which factors such as grammar and diction are e$plained in relation to the pragmatic conte$t in which they are used. Iakobson uses this formula to emphasize the difference, the split, between poetic and non=poetic language, and crucial to this is his pairing of message with poetic. In 6The ?lea0 there are linguistic elements that relate to all of the conte$tual influences of ordinary language. "t the beginning of stanza ) the phrase 67h stay0 depends for its meaning upon a general awareness of its conte$t. This phrase is prompted as much by the unpredictable immediacy of the speech act (the addresser in stanza 8 cannot predict that the addressee will attempt to s-uash the flea as it is by any prepared code for the deli!ery of the intended message (his re-uest for se$. "t the same time, howe!er, the actuality of the situation in which the words are used, what we call the 6ground0, is disrupted by the fact that while it is possible to recreate the conte$t of the utterance from the words it is impossible to imagine that any addresser in any real situation would ha!e any reason, let alone the time and ability, to incorporate 67h stay as the opening iamb in an octosyllabic line, which in turn is locked into a comple$, thrice=repeated stanzaic pattern. Iakobson uses linguistics to !alidate the general thesis that poetry is different from ordinary language, not simply in its stylistic de!ices but in the way that these de!ices create patterns within a te$t which isolate that te$t from the normal cause=and=effect relationship between language and its conte$tkthe 6split0. Rmpson, in his attempt to conte$tualize *rowning0s poem on the butcher, reduces the lines to three potential metalinguistic substitutes. He treats them as we would an uncertain or ambiguous message deli!ered by a real addresser, and concludes, rather obli-uely, 6that poetry can be more compact, while seeming to be less precise, than prose0. Rmpson and *rooks approach the poetic te$t in terms of the normal, conte$tual conditions of non=poetic language, in the sense that they occupy the position of the addressee and attempt to make sense of the stylistic e$cesses of the addresser (poet and poetic persona. Iakobson alters this formula and argues that whene!er the poetic function is combined with the message an ambiguity or split permeates not only the style of the te$t, but also the phenomenological status of its conte$t, its speaker (addresser and its hearer or reader (addressee. In order to understand 6The ?lea0 in basic terms, we as readers need to imagine the situation created by the words, but we also become aware that this situation and its participants are patently unreal, that the poetic function (the projection principle, metre, rhyme permeates both the words of the te$t and the situational conte$t which prompts and permits a proper understanding of these words. Iakobson0s concept of the split specifies, but does not resol!e, a problem that is central to the stylistics of poetry. +riticizing poetry, either in an essay or in con!ersation, in!ol!es a form of translation. Ge discuss poems in the way that we discuss politics or gardening. 7ur language is prosaic5 we refer methodically to items, facts, de!ices, effects, apparent meanings. +riticism is normati!eH it reduces the oddities of poetic structure to the pragmatics of ordinary discourse. In Iakobson0s terms we replace the uni-ue, all=inclusi!e code of the poetic function with the metalinguistic substitute of prose, e$plication and paraphrase. " number of modern critics use the term 6naturalization0 to describe this process. The problem of how to bridge this di!ide between what poetry is and how we discuss it has itself di!ided the study of poetic style. " number of critics ha!e e$tended and further in!estigated the work of Iakobson and the <ew +ritics. /amuel 1e!in (8@:), 8@;8 set about naming and documenting those elements of poetry which e$ist on either side of Iakobson0s 6split0. The 6cogniti!e0 features of any te$t or speech actkin short the meaning=generating elements such as synta$, le$is, semantics, phonemics, shared by all linguistics discoursesk are the salient structures which enable us to attain a basic le!el of understanding. The 6con!entional0 features are those that poetry does not share with other discourses, especially its di!ision into lines, with sub=di!isions consisting of metrical pattern, rhyme scheme and sound pattern. 1e!in coins the term 6coupling0 to describe instances in which these two dimensions interact. The couplings of the cogniti!e and con!entional features of 6The ?lea0 are comple$ and continuous. 1e!in0s formula pro!ides a useful means of documenting the acti!e constituents of poetic style, but it begs the -uestion of how e$actly the meanings created by coupling are different from stylistic cruces and paraphrasable meanings of ordinary language. ?or e$ample #ope begins his 6Rpistle to 3r "rbuthnot0 (8;%K with the couplet5 /hut, shut the door good Iohne fatigu0d I said, Tye up the knocker, say I0m sick, I0m dead. In 1e!in0s terms the con!entional element of this couplet is the semantic contrast between the rhyme words 6said0 (li!ing speech and 6dead0 (terminal silence and is itself underpinned by the metrical symmetry of the two lines. The operation of the con!entional features injects a supplementary le!el of sardonic wit into a cogniti!e message that could be paraphrased as weary hyperbole. The problem with 1e!in0s concept of coupling is that it will always occur in e!ery couplet of #ope0s poem. Rach pair of rhyme words will create a semantic contrast that will not occur in unrhymed language, but not all of the couplets will produce the same le!el of con!entional=cogniti!e interaction as the first. Ge can draw up an abstract model of cogniti!e features (how the semantic properties of words relate to their grammatical class and how the rules of synta$ organize these classes and their con!entional counterparts (the metrical pattern of the iambic pentameter and the a a b b rhyme scheme of the couplet, but it would re-uire a computer, rather than a human reader, to note, register and absorb e!ery point of interaction of these two elements. Bichael 2iffaterre (8@:: was the first critic to draw attention to the potential discrepancy between our ability to document the minutiae of stylistic interaction and the ability of the a!erage reader to appreciate that all of these things are happening at the same time. 2iffaterre coined the term 6/uperpoem0 to account for the immensely comple$ phenomena disclosed by the work of Iakobson, 1e!in and other linguist=critics, and he in!ented the notion of a 6/uperreader0 to account for a putati!e and !ery unreal presence who is capable of accommodating these effects simultaneously, along with an e( cathedra knowledge of who the poet is, and how this particular poem relates to work by the same poet and by other writers. Ge will close this chapter by introducing a formula which helps us to more clearly define the stylistic de!ices and interpreti!e problems discussed so far5 the double pattern. ?urther, sound patterning in poetry will be discussed. In simple terms the double pattern concerns the relationship between those features of the poem which are e$clusi!e to poetic writing and those which the poem shares with other linguistic discourses. Gith regard to Iakobson0s diagram, half of the double pattern consists of the si$ linguistic and situational elements of any statement (addresser, addressee, conte$t, message, contact, code. The other half is the effect upon these when each is informed by the consistent use of a poetic de!ice. 7n the one hand, the diction and phrasing of 3onne0s 6The ?lea0 preser!e all of the characteristics of an impro!ised statement deli!ered by a male addresser around the beginning of the se!enteenth century. 7n the other, the imagined situation of a man addressing a woman in a real situation in!ol!ing the contingent elements of conte$t, contact and code is made unreal by the un=impro!ised metrical and rhyming symmetries of the te$t. 1e!in0s distinction between the cogniti!e (non=poetic and con!entional (poetic features of the te$t enables us to specify the linguistic causes of the double pattern, but of more significance is its effect upon our ability to reconcile the stylistic character of the poem with a percei!ed intention or conte$t. 1et us compare the following two e$tracts. The first is the opening stanza of 3ylan Thomas0s 6Ghen, 1ike a 2unning Gra!e0 and the second is the first four lines of Iohn Gould ?letcher0s 6Irradiations0. Ghen, like a running gra!e, time tracks you down, ]our calm and cuddled is a scythe of hairs, 1o!e in her gear is slowly through the house, Qp naked stairs, a turtle in a hearse, Hauled to the dome, ?lickering of incessant rain 7n flashing pa!ements5 /udden scurry of umbrellas5 *ending, recur!ed blossoms of the storm. Thomas0s stanza consists of four slightly irregular iambic pentameters followed by a four= syllable line, and has an a b b b a pattern of off=rhymes. " se-uence of assonantal and alliterati!e patterns stands in obli-ue relation to the metre and the rhyme scheme. The format is repeated in each of the poem0s ten stanzas. This dense and intrinsic network of stress and sound creates a pattern of echoes and parallels along the syntagmatic chain and deflects our attempts to go through the surface structure to paraphrase its meaning. These difficulties are increased by the multilayering of figures and tropes. The ground, the referential anchor for Thomas0s figures, is constantly unsettled by the comple$ity of the figures themsel!es. The 6you0 of the first line is not identified either as a particular person or as a metonymic substitute for the uni!ersal condition of humanity. This presence is pursued, and caught, by time, while at the same time some type of acti!ity, also in!ol!ing the 6you0, and a personified condition of 61o!e0 takes place in a 6house0. /o far we ha!e three personae5 the you and the binary personifications of lo!e and time. The presence of the latter pair is strengthened by a pattern of images connoting respecti!ely lifeLse$uality and deathLtermination5 6calm and cuddled0, 6scythe of hairs0, 6turtle0 (a traditional emblem of lo!eH 6running gra!e0, 6hearseLHauled to the dome0. "part from the tripartite relation between humanity, life and death there is no concrete or secure ground for the tenor=!ehicle dynamics of Thomas0s metaphors5 the images are thematically related to each other but they are not carried o!er from an identifiable conte$t. Qnlike in 3onne0s 6The ?lea0 (see abo!e where there is a constant distinction between the metrical pattern, the speaker0s ingenious use of metaphor and imagery (in 1e!in0s terms the con!entional le!el and the actuality of the situation and the personae of the te$t (the cogniti!e le!el, in Thomas0s poem any clear perception of the latter is continuously absorbed and dissipated by the comple$ities of the former. 7ne could argue that the poetic, con!entional element of the double pattern has effecti!ely replaced the cogniti!e function of synta$. The relati!e ad!erb 6Ghen0 which begins the stanza has no particular subjectH rather the rest of the syntagm switches from the conditional future to the closely obser!ed present (6is a scythel0, 6is slowly0 rather than 6will be0 or 6will0H and this uncertain relation between temporal registers and sub=and main clauses is not resol!ed in subse-uent stanzas. The unfi$ed synta$ stands in contrast to the relati!e precision of the metrical and rhyming framework. Ghat in prose form might read as incoherent nonsense is pro!ided with a thread of continuity by the carefully repeated stanzaic structure. ?letcher0s lines, con!ersely, are stripped of practically any element of the con!entional dimension that would obstruct an impression of immediacy and spontaneity. The !erbs (6?lickering0, 6flashing0, 6scurry0, 6*ending0 are without pronoun and ad!erb supplements (6There isl0, 6It isl0. The di!ision between the lines is determined not by an arbitrary metrical or sound pattern but by the specified frame of reference of each consecuti!e image. Ghile Thomas0s synta$ is en!eloped in a recurring metrical structure, ?letcher0s is determined by an apparent desire for transparency. The only figurati!e usage is 6blossoms0, a tenor=!ehicle relation (umbrellas are like blossoming flowers firmly embedded in the ground of the discourse. Indeed the progression of concrete imageskflickering rain, flashing pa!ements, scurry of umbrellaskseems designed to replicate its pre=linguistic counterpart, both in the se-uence percei!ed by the addresser and in the addresser0s mental and linguistic ordering of the se-uence. The rain causes the opening of umbrellas and this consecuti!e process settles in the mind of the percei!er prior to his metaphoric act of carrying o!er the immediate obser!ations into a memory of blossoming flowers. Thomas and ?letcher press the relation between the two hal!es of the double pattern to opposing e$tremes. Thomas embeds any pragmatic, situational register in a dynamic network of stylistic de!icesH ?letcher obliges the formal and syntactic element of the te$t to conform to and reflect the e$ternal conditions that prompted it. Thomas0s te$t belongs to the traditional, pre=modernist techni-ue of constantly creating a tension between the two hal!es of the double patternkalthough in this instance tension gi!es way to a surrender by one half to the other. ?letcher writes as part of the modernist rebellion against the arbitrary presence of formal structure. He promotes situational conte$t and pre=linguistic impression as the primary determinants of style. They represent e$tremities, and they also illustrate the interpreti!e benefits of the double pattern. #oems from all stages in literary history show a dynamic interface between the two hal!es of the double pattern. The con!entional dimension has been altered by de!elopments in literary historyk?letcher0s mode of free !erse was largely unknown before 8@44kbut it is also ahistorical. " gregarious stylist such as G. H. "uden can deploy metrical structures that ha!e been used, discarded and in!ented in e!ery period from the si$teenth century to the 8@;4s. The cogniti!e dimension is more firmly rooted in the habits and frames of reference of contemporary discourse. +hristopher Barlowe0s iambic pentameter How am I glutted with conceit of this (from 3octor ?austus, 8:4' and #hilip 1arkin0s <ot -uite your class, I0d say, dear, on the whole. (from 61ines on a ]oung 1ady0s #hotograph "lbum0, 8@KK in!ol!e usages and locutions that are self=e!idently contemporaryk6conceit0 is now rarely substituted for 6the idea0H and 6on the whole0 would ha!e been unknown in 8:4'. Howe!er three and a half centuries of locutionary change do not alter the task of both poets in adapting their language to the configurations of fi!e iambic feet. R!ery act of poetic writing is influenced by the two dimensions of the double pattern. The poet is obliged to consider the accumulated con!entions of style that constitute the e$isting canon of poems5 which metrical forms should heLshe employ, adapt or discardJ "t the same time heLshe is working with a linguistic framework informed by the locutionary habits and frames of reference of the contemporary world. S#)nd P'tte&nin in P#et&( Traditionally, metre in poetry is analyzed in terms of whether the syllables in a poem form themsel!es into significant units of two or three (sometimes called double and triple beats respecti!ely. These significant units are called feet. (If one wants to be meticulous in one0s description, one may want to respecti!ely call feet of two and three beats disyllabic and trisyllabic. The symbol u}u is used to indicate the separation of one foot from another. The feet in a poem are often seen in relation to the grapho=metric unit of the lineH one can classify the lines in a poem in terms of the number of feet each line has. These are the traditional terms used with reference to the number of feet per line5 Table $ono$eter one foot penta$eter fi!e feet di$eter two feet he%a$eter or ale%andrine si$ feet tri$eter three feet hepta$eter se!en feet tetra$eter four feet octo$eter eight feet The syllables in a foot ha!e only two degrees of stresses in traditional or classical metrics5 weak and strong (the term stress is used interchangeably here with accent. ?or the purpose of our course, we will use the QFQ symbol for strong stresses, and the QPQ symbol for weak ones. The main metres in the Rnglish language are the following5 Table ia$b P F trochee F P anapest P P F dactyl F P P The abo!e may be the dominant metres, or what is also known as the normative metres for entire poems, but for the purpose of a more thorough analysis of metre, the following may also be useful at certain points of one0s analysis5 Table pyrrhic P P spondee F F To gi!e a metrical description of a line in classical metrics, one combines the terms gi!en in the abo!e list, and those a!ailable in the earlier list5 for e$ample, iambic pentameter, trochaic tetrameter etc. ?rom a linguistic perspecti!e, it is important for us to realise that the analysis or scansion of poetry in terms of its classical metres is really the superimposition of an artificial metrical pattern on a poem, and does not always represent the way that the syllables are actually or potentially stressed. Xuite often, there is a discrepancy in one0s reading between the artificial stress patterns which one tries to superimpose on the poem, and one0s actual articulation of the strong and weak stresses in the poem (which may occur e!en after one has gi!en some leeway to the fact that one is reading poetry. Interesting problems in the scansion of poetry arise here (sometimes described as metrical tension in literary criticism. In order to tackle this problem in scansion, one may want to arri!e at two le!els in the analysis of the metrical patterns of a poem5 the normative metre is put down first, after which the feet in the poem which resist the normati!e metre are indicated. If for instance the normati!e metre of a poem is iambic, but there are other feet to be found in a particular line of the poem, one indicates the de!iation from the normati!e iambic metre in the following manner5 } O O } } } L L } } O L } O L } O L } O L } The de!iation from the normati!e metre in the first foot is known as a pyrrhic substitution and that in the fourth foot as a spondaic substitution. 1inguistically, a third le!el of analysis is possible, as one may want to centre one0s analysis on the stress patterns which may be realized if the poem is not read as poetry. Ghen one does this, there may be more substitutions than those a!ailable from the type of scansion discussed abo!e, as there are bound to be more differences from the normative metre. In the analysis of stress patterns, another type of metrical scheme may be worked out. This type of metre relies primarily on the articulated stresses which occur when one reads a poem, and does not rely on the artificial construct of a normati!e metre. In this type of metrical scheme, which Halliday calls the phonometric, each foot begins with a stressed syllable. It does not matter if the foot has two, three or more beatsH in fact, a foot with only one syllable is possible, so long as it is stressed, and is followed by another stressed syllable. ?oot di!isions in this type of metrical scheme thus resemble the bars in musical notation, as the first (unsyncopated note in a musical bar is usually more accented than the other notes (unless indicated otherwise by the composer. *ut this type of metrical scheme, in spite of Halliday0s ad!ocacy, may not be entirely satisfactory to all linguists (or for that matter, to all literary scholars who want a more satisfactory metrical system than the classical. 7ne problem is the reliance, which is also found in classical metrics, on only two degrees of stress. /ome linguists and literary scholars ha!e proposed that three degrees of stress ought to be used, whilst others ha!e ad!ocated four. In the system proposed by George 1 Trager and Henry 1ee /mith for instance, which is de!ised for the analysis of the Rnglish language in general, there are four degrees of stress5 primary, secondary, tertiary and weak. Howe!er, such a detailed analysis of stress in poetry may not be necessary, and there are !irtues in classical metrics which ha!e not been entirely superseded by more recent metrical systems. H'llid'(/s Ph#n#met&ic A$$&#'ch • In some of the pre!ious chapters, we said that Halliday0s phonometric metrical system might be criticized by some linguists and literary scholars for its dependence on only two degrees of stress. *ut as we said earlier, the degrees of stress in spoken language are con!eniently reduced in the articulation of poetry to only two significant units. There may of course be more than just two degrees of stress when one phonetically analyzes the oral reading of a poem, but we seem to psychologically recognize only two significant degrees, and this is what ultimately counts in the analysis of poetry. • " stronger challenge to the !alidity of the phonometric metrical system may centre on the -uestion of whether it actually works well in the analysis of Rnglish poetry in general. Halliday belie!es that his phonometric approach is generally more suitable for the analysis of Rnglish poetry than classical metrics. He claims in the first edition of his Introduction that 6the recei!ed tradition of Rnglish metrical analysis, which is based on the classical metrics of 1atin and Greek, does not accurately account for the rhythmic properties of Rnglish !erse0 (p. 84. Howe!er, one needs to -ualify Halliday0s !iew here, as the metrical tradition in 1atin and Greek is -uantitati!e, and not, as is the dominant tradition in Rnglish poetry, accentual=syllabic (see below. • Ghether the phonometric approach is suitable for most Rnglish poems is debatable, but its ad!antage, we feel, cannot be denied for at least some types of Rnglish !erse. 7ne notices, for instance, that most of the e$amples gi!en by Halliday are nursery rhymes or children0s !erse. 7ne recognizes the appropriateness of the phonometric approach for these types of !erse. Howe!er, Halliday is less successful in the phonometric analysis of more serious poetry. ?or e$ample, in his analysis of a stanza from Gray0s 'legy in a +ountry +hurchyard, the phonometric analysis, which Halliday claims 6relates !erse rhythm to the rhythm of the spoken language0, would ha!e been more successful had there been fi!e stresses in the final line of the stanza, as the other lines of that stanza also ha!e fi!e stresses (see p. 8' of the first edition of Halliday0s Introduction for this. In the classical approach (at least as it is practised by modern prosodists, one can either subject the penultimate foot of the final line (i.e. 6lea!es the world to darkness and to me0 to the normati!e iambic foot, or ha!e a pyrrhic substitution there. In nursery rhymes, limericks and other simple !erse in Rnglish howe!er, the number of stresses per line is significant, and not -uite the repetition of weak and strong stresses in an ordered se-uence in each foot. Hence the phonometric approach seems to be more appropriate for these !erse genres, but this does not mean that it will work satisfactorily for the analysis of all poetic genres in Rnglish. Met&ic'l S(stems • The phonometric system has some similarities with the accentual metrical system. /ome Rnglish poems are written with accentual metres (see 1eech pp. 88&=@. #oems written with this metre were pre!alent in 7ld and Biddle Rnglish, sa!e that accentual metre in 7ld and Biddle Rnglish poetry is !irtually synonymous with what is known as alliterati!e metre (i.e., the combination of both stress and alliteration. Ge will be restricting oursel!es to poems written in modern Rnglish for this course, but accentual metre does sur!i!e in modern Rnglish !erseH we see it not only in nursery rhymes and other simple !erse, but there are also some interesting e$amples of more serious poems in modern Rnglish which use accentual metres, and you may encounter some of them in your reading and analysis. • The dominant mode of !ersification for many poems written in modern Rnglish is not accentual, but accentual<syllabic. "s you may know, one is not only interested in the number of stresses per line in the accentual=syllabic approach to !ersification, but also in the number of syllables per lineH the stresses must also be regularly arranged in relation to the syllables. 7ne reason why stress=based approaches, like the phonometric approach, may not always be ade-uate, is that both the number of stresses and syllables per line, are significant for the analysis of many poems written in modern Rnglish. • There ha!e also been e$periments which attempt to write Rnglish poems which concentrate on only the number of syllables per line. The most famous practitioner of this mode of !ersification was the "merican poet Barianne Boore. The number of syllables of a line in a stanza of a poem written with syllabic metre is the same for each of the corresponding lines of the other stanzas. • ]et another minor (but historically important metrical tradition, is the -uantitati!e. In the -uantitati!e approach to metre, one takes into consideration not only the number of syllables per line, but also the duration or length of each syllable. Instead of looking at strong and weak stresses, one sees whether the !owel in each syllable in a poem is long or short. These long and short syllables form themsel!es into ordered patterns in a rather similar way to the way the lines and feet of poetry written with accentual=syllabic metre are organized. There were some Rnglish !ersifiers who had tried to use this metre, in imitation of 1atin and Greek !erse, but the Rnglish language does not seem to be entirely comfortable with this kind of metre, although it must be acknowledged that duration does seem to ha!e an important role to play (in addition to phonetic stress in the notion of stress as it is understood in the literary analysis of Rnglish poetry. Othe& S#)nd Fe't)&es • Gith regard to duration, one must also recognize the contribution that !owel length and sound duration in general ha!e to make to the speed of articulation of poetry. "n analysis of !owel length, together with the analysis of the presence and absence of diphthongs, triphthongs, consonants and consonant clusters, may re!eal the connection of these features not only with the poem0s speed of articulation as a whole and in relation to its specific parts, but also, with the poems0 style and meaning, which as you know, are significant considerations in the analysis of all literary works. In this connection, you may also want to consider using the following terms, which you should be familiar with, as they were used in courses in phonetics and phonology at a lower le!el5 sibilant, nasal, plosi!e, li-uid, fricati!e, aspirate, affricate and !oicedLun!oiced. ]ou should also know (or find out about the following literary terms5 assonance, consonance, rhyme (including feminine, masculine, half (or para= and imperfect rhymes, and onomatopoeia. In relation to the literary terms, you may refer to "brams0 Clossary of Literary Terms. +hapter : of 1eech0s A Linguistic Cuide to 'nglish 0oetry contains a brief discussion of most of the linguistic and literary terms mentioned abo!e. • In addition to the features mentioned, another factor which you may want to consider in the analysis of poetry, is pause or silence (see 1eech pp. 84;=&. "part from the arbitrary pauses which may be encountered in the actual reading of poetry, there are more significant instances where pauses are created by any or all of the following di!isions of units in a poem5 the grapho=metric di!ision between lines and stanzasH the orthographic di!isions between sentences, and between colon and comma unitsH and the grammatical di!isions between clauses and between certain significant clause constituents. If a pause is created by a grammatical di!ision, the word juncture is also used in phonology (although == like the concept of stress in poetry, which in!ol!es more than just phonetic stress == more than just pause may be in!ol!ed in the phonological concept of juncture. • In literary criticism, if the grapho=metric unit of the line does not coincide with the rele!ant grammatical and orthographic unit, an enjambment is created (see 1eech, pp. 8)%=K for a fuller discussionH it must be noted here howe!er that 1eech limits his definition to the lack of coincidence between the line and a corresponding grammatical unit. "n enjambment results in what is known as a run=on line. The opposite of run=on line is end=stopped line, where there is a coincidence of the line with the rele!ant orthographic and grammatical unitsH in most cases, the end=stopped line coincides with the clause, and with the sentence or colon unit. • Howe!er, e!en if the di!isions of orthographic and grammatical units do not occur at the ends of lines, they ha!e a part to play in creating the pauses in a poem. The pauses created by grammatical and orthographic di!isions which occur somewhere in the middle of the lines of a poem, are known as caesurae in traditional metrics. If a caesura takes the place of a missing stressed syllable, what 1eech calls a silent stress occurs (p. 84&. It has also been claimed that silent stresses or what Halliday calls silent beats occur at the end of lines which ha!e an odd number of feet (e.g. in trimeters and pentameters, but not in tetrameters and he$ameters. Chapter No: 23 STYLISTICS AND NOVEL FOCUS ON • Bodels of <arrati!e • Genette0s Theories of 3iegesis and ?ocalization • /peech, 3ialogue and <arrati!e • /ound ?eatures This chapter begins with a sur!ey of general theories of fictional narrati!e, starting with the Ruropean ?ormalists and structuralists, Aiktor /hklo!sky, Aladimir #ropp, ". I. Greimas and Tz!etan Todoro!, and mo!ing on to the "nglo="merican literary=linguists, *ooth, +hatman, 1eech and /hort. The ne$t section considers Genette0s theory of diegesis and focalization as a focus for attempts to document the relation between the narrator and the broader fabric of the no!el. The chapter concludes with a consideration of the function of speech and dialogue in the fictional te$t. M#dels #+ N'&&'ti"e Iakobson claims that 6for poetry metaphor and for prose metonymy is the line of least resistance0 (Iakobson and Halle, 8@K:5@:. In poetry, he argues, metaphoric language is constantly distorting and refracting familiar relations between words and things. #rose is more closely allied to metonymy, in that its linguistic selections maintain a parallel relationship between what is said or written and what is represented. <o!els are made of prose. They are made of different types and classes of prosekformal description, meditati!e reflection, speech, dialogue, letterskbut at a local le!el each different stylistic register is likely to ha!e more in common with the functional, metonymic dimension of style than with the per!ersities of poetry. +onse-uently, the stylistics of prose fiction, while gi!ing due attention to localized effects, is particularly concerned with the ways in which the different registers and forms of prose can be assembled as a single te$t which tells a story and which establishes a certain mode of formal coherence. The two ?ormalists who ha!e made the most significant contributions to subse-uent theories of fiction and narrati!e are Aiktor /hklo!sky and Aladimir #ropp. /hklo!sky (8@8; reduced fictional structures to two opposing and interacti!e dimensions5 s4u-et and fabula. /abula refers to the actuality and the chronological se-uence of the e!ents that make up the narrati!eH and s4u-et to the order, manner and style in which they are presented in the no!el in -uestion. The fabula of 3ickens0s Creat '(pectations (8&:8 concerns the e$periences, in and around 1ondon, from the early childhood to the adulthood of #ip. Its s4u-et in!ol!es the presentation of these e!ents in #ip0s first=person account of their temporal, spatial and emotional registers. In 3ickens0s no!el the first=person manner of the sjuzet has the effect of personalizing the fabulaH #ip0s description of Biss Ha!isham and of his relationship with Rstella is necessarily influenced by factors such as his own emotional affiliations, his stylistic habits and his singular perspecti!e on spatio=temporal se-uences and conditions. If Creat '(pectations had an omniscient, third=person narrator we might learn more about the e!ents that contributed to Biss Ha!isham0s condition and we might be offered a more impartial multidimensional perspecti!e on the relationship between #ip and Rstella. In short, the s4u-et can effecti!ely alter our perceptions of the fabula. /hklo!sky showed a particular taste for no!els which self=consciously foreground the interaction of these two elements, and his essay (8@)8 on 1aurence /terne0s Tristram &handy (8;K@(:; is fre-uently cited as an archetype of ?ormalist method. Throughout this no!el the eponymous narrator maintains an interplay between his story (the fabula, and the acti!ity and conditions of telling it (sjuzet. There is a close relation between Iakobson0s distinction between the poetic function (the operation and effect of poetic de!ices and the referential function (what the poem is about and /hklo!sky0s distinction between s4u-et (narrati!e de!ices and fabula (the storyH what the no!el is about. /hklo!sky and Iakobson focus on the ways in which poems and no!els !ariously integrate and transform the non=literary registers of language and e$perience. #ropp in The Borphology of the ?olktale (8@)& shifts our attention towards the ways in which social and beha!ioural structures influence and determine fictional narrati!e. #ropp de!ised a grammar of the folktale based on two concepts5 the roles filled by the characters (the kidnapper as !illain, the princess as the kidnapped person, the king as pro!ider, etc. and the functions they perform in the plot. In a fairy tale se!eral characters might be in!ol!ed in a single function (the king and kidnapper might be in!ol!ed in !illainous acti!ities or one character might perform a number of functions (the king might be both hero and !illain. *ut #ropp demonstrates that there is a predictable and finite number of permutations of the role= function relation. This scheme is comparable with Iakobson0s di!ision between the syntagmatic a$is of language (!illain, hero, helper, etc. create narrati!e se-uences in the same way that noun, !erb and adjecti!e create syntactic units and its paradigmatic a$is (king and hero can be substituted in certain functional roles in the same way that the !erbs walk, stroll or stride are substitutable in the same place in a sentence. *oth models are constrained by the agreed relation between languageL narrati!e and perceptions of the real world. The sentence 6the tree ate its dinner and then walked home0 is grammatically correct, but its paraphrasable message is implausible and absurd. /imilarly a folktale in which the princess kidnaps her father, the king, in the hope of eliciting a ransom from the !illain would be dismissed as absurd because its distorts the usual realm of possibilities within the social= familial network of roles and functions in the non=fictional world. #ropp0s model of a predictable relation between narrati!e structures and the social and mythological structures of the world outside the no!el became the prototype for later structuralist analyses of fiction. ".I. Greimas (8@::, 8@;4 regards narrati!e patterns as in!ol!ing systems of consecuti!e ordering !ery similar to the syntagm, while arguing that fictional narrati!es reflect the deep=rooted 6grammars0 of human society5 syntagmes contractuelskformal contracts, family bonds, close relationships, institutional tiesH syntagmes performancielsk trials, arguments, the performance of tasksH syntagmes dis4onctionnelskphysical mo!ements, departures, arri!als. Iust as in the syntagmatic chain of a sentence each word and phrase is tied into an accumulati!e se-uence which generates larger units of meaning, so in no!el single incidents such as marriages, commitments to specific professions and journeys are combined to produce e$tended narrati!e structures. Tz!etan Todoro! in his analysis of *occaccio0s Decameron (8@:@ e$tends this parallel between synta$ and narrati!e by reducing the latter to parts of speech (characters are nouns, their attributes adjecti!es, and their actions !erbs, propositions in!ol!ing one or more of the characters (" has se$ with *H 3 di!orces ] and se-uences in which a string of propositions makes up the complete narrati!e structure. Ghat is not entirely clear from the work of these ?ormalists and structuralists is whether they regard no!els or literature in general as capable of e$tending and perhaps e!en transcending the structures of language and society, or whether the latter fully determine and dominate the former. The sense of the literary te$t as shifting uneasily between the localized specifics of language and the broader structures of social and personal e$istence poses a number of problems for stylistics. <o!els, unlike poems, draw upon a !ariety of linguistic registers that we encounter regularly in e!eryday life, and they tell us stories that are often paralleled by e!ents and narrati!es e$perienced by real people. /tructuralism and linguistics ha!e e!ol!ed a comple$ methodology which enables us to deal with practically e!ery stratum of human e$istence. If, like #ropp, Greimas and Todoro!, we attempt to adapt these o!erarching structures and systems to literary te$ts, do we demolish the long=held belief that literature is 6different0 from other discourses and e$periencesJ <ow we come to the more practical -uestion of whether it is possible to de!ise an abstract stylistic schema which can account for what happens in any gi!en no!el. The following diagram illustrates the process of communication between the no!elist and the reader. The model underpinning this was first de!eloped by Gayne *ooth (8@:8 and the diagram itself is taken from a book by /eymour +hatman (8@;&58K8. 2eal author and real reader are unproblematic5 the former is the person who wrote the book and the latter is the actual reader, book in hand. The implied author and the implied reader are !ersions of their real counterparts. "s real readers we might know all manner of things about the real biography of 3ickens, but when we read his no!els we begin to cross the borderline between our imagined perception of 3ickens as a man and 3ickens as the creator and orchestrator of fictional worlds and narrati!es. ?or e$ample if we read a biography of 3ickens and balance what we learn of his life against his presentation of li!es and situations in his no!els we focus on the relation between real author and implied author. Howe!er, if we focus e$clusi!ely on the particulars of one of his no!els we mo!e closer to the centre of +hatman0s diagram. The narrator of 3ickens0s Creat '(pectations is #ip. He offers us a direct, first=person account of his life and e$periences5 we become his narratee. +hatman0s diagram pro!ides us with a model of the different but interrelated properties of no!el reading. +ompare it with the following diagram (from 1eech and /hort, 8@&85)84. This diagram contains the principal constituents of any process of linguistic communication. Discourse is linguistic communication seen as a transaction between speaker and hearer, as an interpersonal acti!ity which is affected, sometimes determined, by its social or cultural purpose. Te(t is the unit of communication, the words transmitted from addresser to addressee. ?or e$ample we can understand the te$t 6I need a drink0 as a simple combination of pronoun, !erb, indefinite article and noun, but its meaning can change radically with its conte$t. If we know that the addresser is an alcoholic speaking to us o!er the phone, or someone who speaks to us from the football pitch or at the end of a marathon, the conte$tual circumstances will effecti!ely determine the message of the te$t. 3iscourse is a general name for the !ast network of linguistic and conte$tual elements that affect the 6message0. +hatman0s and 1eech and /horts diagrams are founded upon a similar concept of message transference from addresser to addressee, but +hatman di!ides these indi!iduals into three le!els of interaction. Rach of these in!ol!es a subtle shift of balance between (in 1eech and /horts terms te(t and discourse. The discourse between real author and real reader is affected principally by one0s knowledge of the biography of the other. This can play a significant part in our perception of the style and message of the te$t. Rmily *rontŒ0s !uthering "eights (8&';, for e$ample, was first published under the (male pseudonym of Rllis *ell and many of its early re!iewers0 interpretations of the te$t0s message were founded upon the assumption that its real author was a man (see Bary Ragleton, 8@&:5;8(%. The discourse between implied author and implied reader of a particular no!el will be influenced by the latter0s familiarity with other no!els. +hatman (8@;&58'& argues that the implied author 6can tell us nothingl. It instructs us silently, through the design of the whole, with all the !oices, by all the means it has chosen to let us learn0. In short, the implied author is the imagined presence which controls the style and structure of the te$t5 the implied reader is the person who is e-ually con!ersant with this a!ailable repertoire of de!ices. The implied author of Creat '(pectations inhabits the space between the real author, 3ickens and the narrator, #ip. His or her field of operations includes the methods and structural de!ices a!ailable within the generic discourse of the no!el. 3ickens0s implied author controls the disclosures of #ip, but the same figure might ha!e chosen to tell the same story as a third=person narrati!e (#ip would be 6he0 rather than 6I0 or in a series of notes and letters e$changed between #ip, Biss Ha!isham, Rstella, Bagwitch and other characters who feature in the narrati!e. ?or stylistics, the most comple$ and problematical relation is between narrator and narratee. There are !ery few no!els in which the narratee is addressed directly. In "dam *ede (8&K@ George Rliot0s narrator states that 6Gith this drop of ink at the end of my pen, I will show you hnarrateei the roomy workshop of Br. Ionathan *urge0. R. B. ?orster in "owards 'nd (8@845 +hapter ) has his narrator caution the narratee that 6If you think this ridiculous, remember that it is not Bargaret who is telling you about it0. These are e$ceptions to the general con!ention that the narratee does not feature as an element of the te$t. Instead the narratee is the reader who judges the descriptions, the dialogue and reported speech of the te$t and its spatio=temporal structure in a way that is analogous though not identical to the way they percei!e non=fictional reality. ?or e$ample the narratee0s encounter with the speech of a character in +hapter : will be affected by what he or she already knows of that character from e!ents, descriptions and speeches earlier in the no!el and by an anticipation of what the character will do later. +hatman0s designation of narratee as an e-ual part of his si$=figure diagram (abo!e should be regarded as a concession to symmetry, since it is !irtually impossible to disentangle the functions of narratee and implied reader. *oth function as the recipient and decoder of the stylistic and structural patterns of the no!el. The narrator is, as we shall see, a much more comple$ and multifaceted indi!idual. Genette/s The#&ies #+ Dieesis 'nd F#c'liF'ti#n G>rard Genette0s /igures 888 (8@;)H in Rnglish @arrative Discourse, 8@&4 offers the most complete and comprehensi!e typology of narrators and narrati!e techni-ues, and in what follows we shall compare Genette0s model with a number of other theories of fiction which !ariously parallel and di!erge from it. Genette classifies narrators by borrowing a term from #lato0s Republic, diegesis. #lato distinguishes between diegesis (the story constructed by the narrator and mimesis (speech and dialogue as a mimetic record of someone0s thoughts and opinions. Genette uses diegesis as a much more comprehensi!e formula, which incorporates the narrator0s control o!er the no!el0s characters who apparently speak or con!erse independently of the story. Genette0s principal distinction is between what he calls the e(tra<diegetic and the auto< diegetic narrator. The e$tra=diegetic narrator remains distant from the story, and the most ob!ious signal of distancing is the continuous use of the third=person account. The narrators of Henry ?ielding0s Tom ;ones (8;'@, Honor> de *alzac0s 0[re Coriot (8&%' and 3. H. 1awrence0s !omen in Love (8@)8 ne!er refer e$plicitly to their own opinions or feelings or their relationship with the characters of the narrati!e. The third person narrator introduces and describes characters and e!ents (he, they, she and it, for e$ample are third=person referring pronouns, but rarely uses the first=person 6I0. To do so would predicate in!ol!ement in the story rather than just the telling of it. The e$emplary auto=diegetic narrator uses the first=person pronoun and tells the story as an element of hisLher own e$perience. 3ickens0s #ip and /terne0s Tristram &handy are typically auto=diegetic narrators. Genette0s main point is that although the use of stylistic signals such as first=or third= person narration can offer a superficial clue to the relation between narrator and narrati!e there are other more significant structural and stylistic features that can unsettle these. He argues that e!ery kind of narrator is to some degree intradiegetic, that is to say in!ol!ed in the storyH the opinions, the knowledge and the style of the narrator will always ha!e some effect upon the !arious elements of the narrati!e, no matter how much the narrator might attempt to achie!e objecti!ity and impartiality. 3. H. 1awrence0s !omen in Love uses what on the surface is the e$tra=diegetic form of narration. The teller seems to function only as an impersonal pur!eyor of the e!ents and as a link between the spoken e$changes of the characters. *ut there are close stylistic resemblances between the narrator0s descriptions of e!ents and the e$tended spoken discourses of the main characters. This is *irkin on the personal characteristics and habits of Gudrun5 Gudrun is rather self opinionated. /he won0t go cheap anywhere. 7r if she does, she0ll pretty soon take herself back. /o whether she would condescend to do pri!ate teaching, particularly here in *eldo!er, I don0t know. *ut it would be just the thing. (+hapter 8: This is the narrator on Gudruns circumstances and choices5 /he had a certain amount of money. /he had come home partly to sa!e, and now she had sold se!eral pieces of work, she had been praised in !arious shows. /he knew she could become -uite the 6go0 if she went to 1ondon. *ut she knew 1ondon, she wanted something else. (+hapter 8; If we substitute 6Gudrun0 for 6she0 in the second passage and shift it from the past to the present tense it would be difficult to distinguish the stylistic characteristics of the narrator from those of his character. In both passages the pronounLproper name operates as the tie around which a !ariety of referential economies and elaborations are threaded. Indeed the apparently objecti!e narrator of the second passage and *irkin, who knows Gudrun personally, shares an almost identical habit of ju$taposing facts and intrusi!e opinions about Gudrun0s mental and emotional condition. " close relationship between an apparently distant, e$tra=diegetic narrator and the condition of the no!el0s characters is not uncommon in third=person narrati!es. Iane "usten0s narrator in @orthanger Abbey (8&8& describes the principal character of the no!el in its opening sentences5 6<o one who had e!er seen +atherine Borland in her infancy would ha!e supposed her born to be a heroine. Her situation in life, the character of her father and mother, her own person and disposition, were all e-ually against her0. Throughout the no!el the narrator ne!er discloses any personal, social or familiar relation with the characters, but the first sentence is not consistent with this impression of objecti!ity. The deictic features of language are those which orientate or anchor utterances in the conte$t of space (here !ersus thereH this !ersus that or of time (now !ersus then, relati!e to the speaker0s point of !iew. The deictics of this opening passage disclose that the narrator has detailed knowledge of +atherine0s childhood, her social status, the character of her parents and of her physical and emotional condition. Indeed the first ),444 words of the no!el consist of a precise documentation of +atherine0s e$periences as a child, her appearance, her habits, her tastes, her talents, her relationship with her parents and her psychological makeup. 7nly +atherine herself or someone with whom she had had a close and candid relationship could know all of this, but +atherine is not telling her own story and if it is being told by someone who knows her so well, why does this person not feature in the narrati!eJ "s Genette argues, and "usten demonstrates, the distinction between narrational distance and in!ol!ement is difficult to determine. +onsider again 1eech and /hort0s diagram of addresser=addressee, discourse and te$t (abo!e. In most communicati!e instances we are able to clarify the message by making a clear distinction between the four elements, but if we regard the narrator of @orthanger Abbey as addresser (and oursel!es as addressee they become peculiarly entangled. Throughout the no!el the narrator seems to command a remarkably well=informed awareness both of what +atherine did and of what went through her mind at the time of the e!ents described. The beginning of +hapter @ is typical5 The progress of +atherine0s unhappiness from the e!ents of the e!ening, was as follows. It appeared first in a general dissatisfaction with e!erybody about her, while she remained in the rooms, which speedily brought on considerable weariness and a !iolent desire to go home. This, on arri!ing in #ulteney /treet, took the direction of e$traordinary hungerl 1et us try to decode this passage in terms of 1eech and /hort0s diagram. The deictic features suggest that the narrator either accompanied +atherine from the 2ooms to #ulteney /treet and spoke to her about her mood or that heL she assembled this information from a number of +atherine0s ac-uaintances. If we read on we will find that neither of these assumptions is plausible. 1ater in the passage the narrator tells us of how long +atherine slept and her 6first wish0 on awakening. In technical terms this is a third=person narrati!e but at the same time hisLher field of operations is that of a first=person narrator5 in Genette0s typology heLshe is an intradiegetic narrator. 7n the one hand the narrator seems to be omniscient but on the other hisLher range of description ne!er mo!es beyond the perceptions, e$periences and thoughts of +atherine. Genette0s typology of narrators is underpinned by the general principle of focalization. ?ocalization offers us a new perspecti!e on the relation between the narrator and e!ery stylistic and structural feature of the te$t. ?ocalization is the literary=critical !ersion of the general linguistic concept of ideational meaning5 the mental image generated by the words (Iakobson uses the term 6referential0 to account for the same process. 7pen any no!el at random, choose a paragraph and you, the narratee, will be engaged in focalization. 7ur basic linguistic competence enables us to understand what the words mean, but their grammatical, le$ical and semantic functions are tied into a re-uirement to focalize their meaning5 who is speakingJ How much are we being told about the e!ents, people or thoughts describedJ Is the speaker witnessing these things at the time of their occurrenceJ "re they a memory of past e!entsJ Ghat is the physical location of the speaker in relation to the e!ents describedJ The deictic features of language are the principal means by which statements are focalized. In the no!el the status of the narrator (auto=diegetic, e$tradiegetic, first person, third person will often determine the manner and le!el of focalization, but, as we ha!e seen from @orthanger Abbey, there is not always a predictable and parallel relation between narrator and focalizing agent. "t one le!el +atherine herself is the focalizer, in that the spatio= temporal dimensions of the narrati!e correspond with her e$periences. 2immon=Fenan (8@&% refers to this as e$ternal focalizing. "t another le!el the unidentified narrator will disclose +atherine0s thoughts and feelings in a way that +atherine herself is either incapable of doing or unwilling to do in speech5 6,By dear Rleanor. cried +atherine, suppressing her feelings as well as she couldl0 (+hapter ):, #enguin edn, 8@@'. 2immon=Fenan refers to this as internal focalizing, in that our attention is directed as much to the mental condition underpinning the statement as to its functional, con!ersational conte$t. "t the beginning of 3ickens0s Creat '(pectations, the primary agent of e$ternal focalizing (the acti!ities of #ip is the young, ine$perienced #ip, while at the same time the internal focalizing (the thoughts and feelings of #ip of these chapters is controlled and orchestrated by the older #ip who narrates the e!ents from a retrospecti!e distance of about three decades. " similar but more complicated case of split focalization occurs in Iames Ioyce0s A 0ortrait of the Artist as a Noung .an (8@8'(8K, which begins as follows5 7nce upon a time and a !ery good time it was there was a moocow coming down along the road and this moocow that was coming down along the road met a nicens little boy named baby tuckool His father told him that story5 his father looked at him through a glass5 he had a hairy face. He was baby tuckoo. The moocow came down the road where *etty *yrne li!ed5 she sold lemon platt. The focalizing agent of this passage is the central figure of the no!el, /tephen 3edalus, at this point aged about three years. The focalizer, howe!er, is the third=person narrator, who situates these e$periences in the past tense and structures them around sentence patterns. The narrator makes stylistic concessions to the disorganized mental operations of his subject (the syntactic units of the second and third paragraphs are endearingly infantile non se-uiturs, but within K44 words the deictic features of these childhood e$periences become much better orchestrated. The wide playgrounds were swarming with boys. "ll were shouting and the prefects urged them on with strong cries. The e!ening air was pale and chilly and after e!ery charge and thud of the footballers the greasy leather orb flewl Throughout Ioyce0s no!el there is a constant interface between the focalizer, the narrator, and the focalizing agent, /tephen. This also happens in @orthanger Abbey but Ioyce subtly erodes the con!entions that in "usten0s no!el maintain the distinction between the narrator and +atherine. "s the narrati!e of A 0ortrait follows /tephen0s de!elopment through se$ual and emotional rites of passage and towards intellectual maturity the style of the narrator adjusts itself to the mood and aspirations of its subject. The following is from +hapter ' in which /tephen obser!es a girl on a beach5 Her slate=blue skirts were kilted boldly about her waist and do!etailed behind her. Her bosom was as a bird0s, soft and slight, slight and soft as the breast of some dark= plumaged do!e. *ut her long fair hair was girlish5 and girlish, and touched with the wonder of mortal beauty, her face. Iust as the unfocused synta$ of the narrator parallels the fluctuating attention span of the infant at the beginning of the no!el, so this passage is consistent with the aroused se$uality and the literary ambitions of the young man. The centre of attention is the girl0s clothing and body and this is stylistically 6do!etailed0 into an e$tra!agant pattern of metaphor, assonance, alliteration and parallelism that !irtually satisfies Iakobson0s definition of the poetic function. Qnlike +atherine0s narrator, who tells us what she does and then goes on to reflect upon its emotional effects, /tephen0s narrator creates a stylistic representation that combines internal and e$ternal focalization. He writes in the way that, from our knowledge of /tephen, we would e$pect /tephen to write. Genette0s concept of focalization is important because it pro!ides a cohesi!e centre for the potentially disorientating !ariety of stylistic techni-ues that ha!e been applied in the no!el. 1eech and /hort (8@&85;4 are clear about the difficulties of arri!ing at a consistent and comprehensi!e model for the analysis of style in the no!el. 6There is no complete list of the linguistic properties of a te$tH therefore we ha!e to select the features to study0. In 8@;; 2oger ?owler coined the term 6mind style05 +umulati!ely, consistent structural options, agreeing in cutting the presented world to one pattern or another, gi!e rise to an impression of a world !iew, what I shall call a 6mind style0. ?owler0s concept of mind style combines two problematic dimensions of the no!el as te$t. ?irst he raises the possibility of identifying a stylistic property which runs through all le!els of the no!el. /econdly he claims that the cumulati!e effect of this will enable us to treat the no!el as the embodiment of the opinions and affiliations of its author5 in terms of +hatman0s diagram we mo!e outward from the centre to the marginsH in terms of 1eech and /horts we distil a message from the combination of te$t and discourse. In short, ?owler draws together as a single stylistic principle all of the techni-ues described abo!e. It is not too difficult to identify a consistent stylistic signature in the narrati!e passages of some no!els. " classic case is Henry Iames0s tendency to specify a topic (person, situation or idea by building around it a comple$ network of modifying and post=modifying clauses. Iames0s sentences attempt consistently to contain and incorporate the multifaceted condition of their subject5 ]et he was unwilling to take lea!e, treating his engagement as settled, without some more con!entional glance in that direction than he could find an opening for in the manner of the large affable lady who sat there drawing a pair of soiled gants de &u[de through a fat, jewelled hand and, at once pressing and gliding, repeated o!er and o!er e!erything but the thing he would ha!e liked to hear. (The 0upil, opening passage Iames0s complicated system of main and sub=clauses is an attempt to draw together what might otherwise be separate processes of internal and e$ternal focalization. In a single sentence he tells us what 6he0 is thinking, why he is reluctant to lea!e the room, and of the physical size, acti!ities, disposition, posture and jewellery of the person who detains him. Ge might thus argue that the Iamesian mind style in!ol!es the omniscient, intradiegetic narrator not only as the controller of the o!erall narrati!e structure, but also as someone who stri!es to synthesize multidimensional e$perience at a localized stylistic le!el. Ge might further argue that since this is a consistent feature of his no!els it enables us to mo!e from narrator to implied and real author and infer that this mind style tells us something about the 6world !iew0 of Henry Iames. /uch procedures are !alid in some cases, but not all. "s we ha!e seen, some no!els can di!ide the process of focalization between different le!els of style and narrati!e and conse-uently disrupt any comfortable mo!ement from narrator to real author. S$eech- Di'l#)e 'nd N'&&'ti"e The use of dialogue and reported speech can pro!ide an intrusi!e counterpoint to the stylistic features of the indi!idual narrator. 1eech and /hort (8@&8 and BcHale (8@;& offer a typology of relations between narrati!e discourse, speech and con!ersation. The two most fre-uently used methods of differentiating speech from narrati!e discourse are direct and indirect speech (3/ and I/. 3/5 /he said, 6I0m going home0. I/5 /he said she would go home. I/ relates closely to narrati!e reports of speech acts (<2/". The principal difference is that <2/" offers us the meaning of a characters speech while lea!ing us uncertain about whether the report is a !erbatim account of the words used (I/ or the narrator0s paraphrase of their message. <2/"5 /he spoke for fi!e minutes. /he wanted to go home. ?ree direct speech (?3/ is dialogue with the reporting clause (/he said of 3/ remo!ed. <o!els will sometimes include e$tended passages of ?3/, but the use of pure dialogue as a central structural element would effecti!ely turn the no!el in a play (Hemingway0s The ,illers is an e$ceptional instance of this type of genre=crossing. ?ree indirect speech (?I/ in!ol!es elements of I/ and <2/". 7ne type of ?I/ has been called the 6dual !oice0 (#ascal, 8@;;. This occurs when the markers or deictic features of a narrati!e report make us suspect that the report incorporates but does not disclose a speech act. In @orthanger Abbey the narrator describes +atherine0s thoughts about the possible departure of +aptain Tilney5 *ut +aptain Tilney had at present no intention of remo!ingH he was not to be of the party to <orthanger, he was to continue at *ath. (+hapter 8@ +atherine is the focalizerH her thoughts and her perceptions of space and time are the subject of the discourse. 7ne part of the dual !oice is the narrator0s. The other, we suspect, is a recollection of a speech by +aptain Tilney. " more economical way of saying the same thing would be5 +aptain Tilney would not be going to <orthangerH he would be staying in *ath. *ut the narrator0s use of a main clause and two sub=clauses suggests that +atherine0s thoughts are constructed from specific e$changes with +aptain Tilney5 change the tense to the present and insert the personal pronoun and the passage reads rather like +aptain Tilney0s part in a dialogue regarding his future plans. "s a model for recorded speech ?I/ has presented a number of problems for linguists and literary critics. In the sentence from @orthanger Abbey the speech act, if it e$isted at all, is reconstituted as a discourse controlled by the narrator and focalized as the mental operations of +atherine. It could just as easily satisfy the criteria for 1eech and /hort0s concept of free indirect thought (?IT. " classic case of ?IT is the modern techni-ue of interior monologue5 lI near lost my breath yes he said I was a flower of the mountain yes so we are flowers all a womans body yes that was the one true thing he said in his lifel (Iames Ioyce, Qlysses, 8@))5 final chapter This se-uence of unpunctuated, de!iant synta$ is meant to represent the thought patterns of Bolly *loom at a time when her mind is rela$ed and least concerned with immediate practical or ratiocinati!e operations. /he is in bed but not -uite asleep. /tylistically it is !ery different from the @orthanger Abbey passage, but both in!ol!e the reconstitution of recollected speech as part of a single discourse. Bore significantly, neither discourse is likely to be permissible or necessary outside the genre=specific con!entions of the no!el. " narrator who knows e!erything about the thoughts, mo!ements, habits and affiliations of +atherine but who ne!er features in the report of her life is implausible in the real world. R-ually implausible is Bolly *loom0s long interior monologue. It is unlikely that someone in such a rela$ed state of mind could at the same time record her thoughts. If the record were retrospecti!e we ha!e problems with reconciling the detail of the discourse with its impression of immediacy and discontinuity5 if her mental operations shifted so rapidly from one deictic focus to another, how could a written record of those patently discontinuous e!ents be either possible or authenticJ 7ur problem with the passages from @orthanger Abbey and Mlysses lies in our attempts to locate a point of origin for the !arious strata of reported speech and narrati!e discourse. Bolly *loom0s unstructured thought patterns might be realistic in that they prompt memories of how our own minds function when we are neither fully awake nor asleep. They are unrealistic when we submit them to the practical, circumstantial conditions of writing, composition, recollection and creati!ity. /imilarly the picture of +atherine Borland that emerges from the detailed consideration of her thoughts, moti!es, ambitions and acts could well correspond with our perception of people in the real world, but unreality inter!enes when we begin to ask -uestions about who imparts this information and how they are able to do it. This sense of tension between the real and the patently unreal dimensions of the te$t holds the key to any general formula for a stylistics of fiction. "s Genette demonstrates, #lato0s distinction between diegesis (narrati!e and mimesis (imitation, primarily recorded speech must be -ualified by an awareness that the former will always interfere with the latter. "nd here we find both similarities and distinctions between the stylistics of fiction and the poetic double pattern. In both instances we make sense of the te$t by balancing the routine non=literary field of interpretation against those elements of the te$t which disrupt parallels between language and its imagined conte$t. They are different in that while the poetic double pattern tends to inform the localities of language throughout the poem, the no!el is often assembled from substantial units of discourse which might of themsel!es occur in non=literary writing or speech. In the no!el the tension between the two hal!es of the double pattern becomes most e!ident when we broaden our interpreti!e framework from a specific passage and seek out a borderline between the refractory con!entions of the te$t and the discourses of the non=fictional world. Rpistemological -uestions such as how Iane "usten0s narrator can know so much about the e!ents described without apparently witnessing them, or whether /tephen 3edalus0s story is told by a third=person !ersion of himself or by someone else are !alid only if we follow the interpreti!e thread from language to the terms and conditions of the real world. In fiction they become in!alid when we recognize that the narrator, the organizing presence of the no!el, is actually one element of the self=referring fabric of the te$t. ?ocalization and the different le!els of reported speech offer us methods of measuring degrees of interference between style and conte$t in brief e$tracts. 3ifficulties arise when we attempt to e$trapolate localized findings to the border between the no!el and the percei!ed non=fictional world, and we shall use the following e$ample from +hapter K of Ioyce0s 0ortrait to illustrate this. /tephen walked on beside his friend, staring gloomily at the footpath h8i. (I tried to lo!e God, he said at length h)i. It seems now I failed. It is !ery difficult. I tried to unite my will with the will of God instant by instant. In that I did not always fail. I could perhaps do that stillkh%i +ranly cut him short by asking5 (Has your mother had a happy lifeJ (How do I knowJ /tephen said. (How many children had sheJ (<ine or ten, /tephen answered h'i. /ome died hKi. The passage contains a number of reporting clauses (6/tephen said0, but the absence of in!erted commas often blurs the distinction between I/, <2/", ?I/ and ?IT. /entence ) in!ol!es a reported speech act, but the reporting clause (6he said at length0 makes us suspect that this is an edited !ersion of what /tephen actually said. /entence % is unfinished and returns us to the impression that it is reported !erbatim. /entence ', with its reporting clause, seems to be direct speech, but we can ne!er be certain if sentence K 6/ome died0 is an addition to /tephen0s spoken answer or an account of his thoughts. Throughout this passage, and throughout the no!el, the balance between the focalizing agent, /tephen, and the focalizer, the narrator, is uncertain. +onsider this passage in relation to 1eech and /hort0s diagram (abo!e. Ge might position /tephen and +ranly as addresser and addressee, or !ice !ersa. The words of their spoken e$changes are the te$t and the discourse is their ongoing interaction, the circumstances that underpin each -uestion and answer and the conte$t inhabited by both speakers. Howe!er, this model cannot account fully for our understanding of the passage. ?or one thing, we cannot make a clear distinction between /tephen0s spoken account, his thoughts and the narrator0s edited or paraphrased !ersion of these. How can we specify the message encoded by /tephen and decoded by +ranly if we are not certain of the e$act nature of the words e$changedJ Ge could shift the centre of focalization and position the narrator as addresser and oursel!es as addressee. The te$t becomes the entire passage and the discourse incorporates the con!entions and techni-ues by which the narrator encodes the message of the no!el and through which we decode it (principally the narrator0s third=person account of the acts, e$periences, speech and thoughts of /tephen. /entence 8 offers a compact e$ample of this5 the narrator combines an awareness of the acti!ities of /tephen and his friend, their physical location and the mood that underpins /tephen0s stare. *ut we still remain uncertain about the e$act position of the narrati!e focus5 is it inside or outside the mind of /tephenJ /o far we ha!e treated the passage in much the same way that we would treat non= fictional language5 we gradually mo!e outward from the localized style of the te$t to the controlling presence who narrates it. Ge attempt to e$plain the uncertain relation between te$t, discourse and message by seeking out an o!erarching source or conte$t. If, in nonfictional discourse, we fail to fully understand the words of the te$t our ne$t recourse will be to seek further clarification from its initiator or from a broader knowledge of the circumstances which prompted the initiator to create the te$t. In the no!el, howe!er, the model that sustains the interpreti!e channels of non=fictional discourse will e!entually break down. 7ur knowledge of who the narrator is and of how or why heL she creates specific effects will be pro!ided principally by clues and stylistic patterns within the te$t, and not by the !ast fund of information, linguistic and non=linguistic, which attends actual reports of actual situations and speech acts. The narrator, parado$ically but irre!ocably, is an element of hisLher own narrati!e. S#)nd Fe't)&es In relation to the sound features of prose, you should read pp. 8%)=% and )8K=; of 1eech and /hort0s &tyle in /iction. Ge ha!e dealt with the sound features of poetry earlier in the chapter &tylistics and 0oetry. "lthough the sound features of prose are of lesser significance than those of poetry, they are sometimes considered in the analysis of prose, as alliteration, metre and rhyme do occasionally appear in prose. Howe!er, a rather different approach to that used for the analysis of poetry is usually adopted in the analysis of rhythm and other sound features in prose. ?or e$ample, prose rhythm, according to 1eech and /hort, can be analyzed by looking at the punctuation marks in a gi!en prose passage, as these are written indicators of intonational units in the passage. In effect, 1eech and /hort0s method of analysing the rhythm of a prose passage, as seen on pp. )8K=: of their book, in!ol!es the deri!ing, solely for the purpose of analysis, of grapho=metric units out of the orthographic units found in the passage. *ut we would like to add here that in addition to orthographic units, one should also consider grammatical units in a gi!en prose passage, as the potential intonation units of the passage may be deri!ed by the significant di!isions of clauses and clause constituents, which are not always indicated by punctuation marks. 7ne may further add that the words used in a particular prose passage == eg. whether they are monosyllabic, polysyllabic etc. == may also contribute to the rhythm of the passage. "nother consideration which may be of significance in the analysis of the sound features of prose, is the use of uncon!entional spelling in a fictional work to represent the style or dialect of the speech of certain characters (see, for e$ample, Ioseph0s speech in !uthering "eights. The use of italics, underlining, and capital letters, may also represent the emphasis that the writer, narrator or character puts on certain words. The spelling of words is considered by 1eech and /hort as part of graphology (which is not to be confused with Halliday0s grapho=metre, which refers to the di!ision of written husually poetici language into the lines and stanzas on the page. Ge may note here that the word orthography, as it is understood in ordinary language, may also be used to refer to spelling, as it refers not only to the use of punctuation marks in writing, but also, and perhaps more fre-uently, to the way indi!idual words are spelled. The author0s resort to orthographic (or graphological means in order to depict the phonological characteristics of speech may be of interest in stylistic analysis. Ge end our discussion on prose rhythms here with a word of caution. 2hythm in prose is usually less regular, and hence less important than in poetry, and unless it is significantly foregrounded, or one is specifically asked to analyze it in a gi!en passage, it is usually ad!isable not to concentrate too much on it in one0s analysis of prose. Chapter No: 2. STYLISTICS AND THE STYDY OF DRAMA FOCUS ON • Manipulation o the Naturalness o Characters9 Speech • 2;ploitation o )ierent Speech Act7 TurnDta6ing and (oliteness (atterns • #se o Assumptions7 (resuppositions and Con&ersational 'mplicature Generally speaking drama is written to be performed == by actors, on a stage, for an audience. #laywrights create drama fully conscious of the possibilities that go beyond words and te$ts and e$tend to physical actions, stage effects, and other bits of the atricality that may in!ol!e lights, music, fine arts and dancing ere so as to create special effects on an audience. To see and hear a performed drama, a play, is certainly a different kind of e$perience from the solitary act of reading drama. Ge enjoy the thrilling e$perience of a brilliantly directed and performed interpretation of a drama by the director and actors, but we ha!e to face a greater strain on our imagination in reading it5 Ge cast character in our minds, paint in the scenic backdrops, place the furniture and props, and choreograph the action == a !ery much compelling literary e$perience. Then what do we actually read in dramaJ chiefly the dialogue. It is more or less all we ha!e. Ge reconstruct the characters0 ideas, acti!ities, habits, eccentricities and personalities from what they say. Qnlike stories or poems which may comment on a character or editorialize rather directly, playwrights ha!e to re!eal characterkthat is, let characters dramatize the kind of people they are by their own words and actions. 7ther characters in the play may of course e$press opinions about a particular character, resort to puns or innuendos or e!en rumors etc about him or her, but all characters ha!e to be credible in their own terms. 3rama dialogue is a particular literary language, as it embodies certain literary and stylistic traits. ?irst the dialogue ad!ances the action of the play. *y presenting the interplay of ideas and personalities among the characters, it sets a con!ersational gi!e and take k not simply as a string of remarks of alternating speakers but as a series of mo!es to promote the de!elopment of plot, and to re!eal the characters0 rich and mi$ed mental acti!ities and changes in their relationship. /econdly, the dialogue displays the characters0 characteristic social positions and special interests. *y !arying the speakers0 language in tone and e$pression according to their !arious nationalities, origins, dialects, occupations, education and social backgrounds, it brings out the particularity of each speaker0s speech and guards against the 6all of the same tone, all with the same feature0 phenomena. Thirdly, the dialogue gi!es the impression of naturalness of the characters0 speech, without, though, presenting an actual, !erbatim record of what may ha!e been said. +ouched in a concise, condensed, sometimes poetic, sometimes collo-uial language, it heightens the artistic appeal of the characters0 speech, or increases its emotional strength, or imbues it with the rich fla!our of life. /ince drama largely consists of character=to=character interaction, the most profitable areas of stylistic analysis to apply to drama are those areas de!eloped by linguistsLpragmaticians to describe 8. the different degrees of naturalness of drama dialogues so as to come to the socio= economic status and mentality of different speakers con!eyed by itH ). the speech act patterns, turn=taking patterns, and politeness patterns, so as to interpret the personality of the characters and their social relationshipH %. the assumptions brought along by readers, presuppositions prompted by the te$t, and the ostentatious breaking of 6con!ersational rules0, so as to e$plain the 6magic of the te$t0 == to read the meanings between the lines. (/ee /hort, 8@@: M'ni$)l'ti#n #+ the N't)&'lness #+ Ch'&'cte&s/ S$eech 3rama is the literary genre that is most like naturally occurring con!ersation. *ut drama dialogue is written to be spoken == it is 6prepared0 and 6rehearsed0. In drama dialogue, what are most characteristic of ordinary con!ersation either do not occur, such as normal non= fluency, nor occur as regularly, such as feedback, though sometimes these features do occur. Howe!er, in a number of other respects, such as turn=taking patterns, speech act patterns, uses of con!ersational implicature etc, real con!ersation and drama dialogue are similar. It is interesting to note that what is aimed at by playwrights is only a kind of 6realistic illusion0, and different playwrights ha!e shown different degrees of speech realism in their presentation of characters0 speech. /hakespeare, for e$ample, purposely makes his major characters speak in iambic pentameter !erse, to gi!e them a kind of gra!ity appropriate to their importance and to the affairs they deal with, as in the beginning of .easure for .easure5 3QFR5 Rscaluse R/+"1Q/5 By lord. 3QFR5 7f go!ernment the properties to unfold Gould seem in me t0 affect speech and discourse /ince I am put to know that your own science R$ceeds, in that, the lists of all ad!ice By strength can gi!e youH then no more remains *ut that, to your sufficiency, as your worth is able "nd let them work.L The nature of our people, 7ur city0s institutions, and the terms ?or common justice, y0 are as pregnant in "s art and practice hath enriched any That we remember .... (I.i.8=8% The 3uke not only speaks in !erse but also produces long and comple$ sentences, with a periodic rather than loose structure as is commonly seen in writing. /hakespeare makes other characters speak in prose, to show, on the one hand, their low status, and to present, on the other, their wit and humour in the art of language, as the speech made by ?alstaff in Henry IA5 ?"1.5 *ardolph, am I not fall0n away !ilely since this last actionJL do I not bateJL do I not dwindleJL Ghy my skin hangs about me like an old lady0s loose gownH I am wither0d like an old apple=john.L Gell, I0ll repent, and that suddenly, while I am in some liking.L I shall be out of heart shortly, and then I shall ha!e no strength to repent.L (III.iii.8=; The prose brings out short and easy sentences with a loose rather than periodic structure which is common in casual speech. Bodem playwrights choose to gi!e their drama dialogues either a realistic or an unnatural feel to make the characters0 speech elegant or pompous, casual or !ulgar, sloppy or banal, so as to reflect the drama of e!eryday life. /ee how pompously George *ernard /haw makes his characters speak5 +"THR2I<R5 /uch newse There has been a battle. 2"I<"5 hHer eyes dilating.i "he h/he comes eagerly to +atherine.i +"THR2I<R5 " great battle at /li!nitzae " !ictorye "nd it was won by /ergius. 2"I<"5 hGith a cry of delight.i "he hThey embrace rapturously.i 7h, mothere mothere mothere h/he pulls her mother down on the ottoman0, and they kiss one another frantically.i +"THR2I<R5 hGith surging enthusiasm.i ]ou can0t guess how splendid it is. " ca!alry chargee Think of thate He defied our 2ussian commanders == acted without orders == led a charge of his own responsibility k headed it himself == was the first man to sweep through their guns. +an0t you see it, 2aina5 our gallant splendid *ulgarians with their swords and eyes flashing, thundering down like an a!alanche and scattering the wretched /erbs and their dandified "ustrian officers like chaff. "nd youe you kept /ergius waiting a year before you would be betrothed to him. 7h, if you ha!e a drop of blood in your !eins, you will worship him when he comes back. k G.*. /haw, Arms and the .an This pompous speech contrasts sharply with <. 2. <ash0s character0s casual speech5 1Iss1R5 Borning, #op=<oah=Iimmy. H.+.5 Bornin0, honey. <7"H and TIB5 Bornin0, 1izzie ... Hi, 1iz. 1izzie5 /ure good to be home again. H.+.5 Iust what the boys were sayin0k sure good to ha!e 1izzie home again. 1IssIR5 <o sign of rain yet, is thereJ H.+.5 <ot a cloud no where. 1IssIR5 I dreamed we had a rain == a great big raine H.+.5 3id you, 1izzieJ 1IssIR5 Thunderstorme 2ain coming down in sheetse 1ightening flashed == thunder rolled up and down the canyon like a kid with a big drume I looked up and I laughed and yelled...e hGith a laugh.i 7ooh, it was wonderfule <7"H5 3rought0s drought and a dream0s a dream. 1IssIR5 *ut it was a nice dream, <oah == and nearly as good as rain. <7"H5 <ear ain0t raine <. 2. <ash, The Rainmaker /ome playwrights e!en go so far as to employ eye=dialect to gi!e a hint at file characters0 poor educational background and low social position5 17<G5 hIndicating it all with an oratorical gesture.i Gell,0ere we are. ?if0 "!enoo. This, 6ere0s their bleedin0 pri!ate lane, as yer might say. h*itterly.i Ge0re trespassers 6ere. #roletarians keep off the grasse ]"<F5 h3ully.i I don0t see no grass, yuh boob. h/taring at the sidewalki +lean, ain0t itJ ]uh could eat a fried egg offen it. The white wings got some job sweepin0 dis up. h1ooking up and down the a!enueksurlilyi Ghere0s all de white=collar stiffs you said was here kand de skoitskher kindJ 17<G5 In church, blarst0 eme "rskin0 Iesus to gi!e 0em more money. ]"<F5 +hoich, huhJ I useter go to choich onetsure when I was a kid. Be old man and woman, dey made me. 3ey ne!er went demsel!es, dough. "lways got too big a head on /unday mornin0, dar was dem. hGith a grin.i 3ey was scrappers for fair, bot0 of dem .... Rugene 70 <eill, The "airy Ape (A E3$l#it'ti#n #+ Di++e&ent S$eech Act- T)&nDt',in 'nd P#liteness P'tte&ns E%ploitation o Speech Act Patterns #eople not only perform physical acts, but also !erbal acts. "ll utterances made by people may be thought of as goal=directed actions. These speech acts ha!e effects on other people and in turn, make them do things. " speech act may be ordering or pleading, threatening or promising, challenging or suggesting, etc. These linguistic acts may be indicated by the structure of the utterance5 interrogati!e structures for -uestions (6Is she comingJ0, imperati!e structures for commands (6+omee0, declarati!e structures for statements (6/he is coming0.. (see /earle, 8@:@ *ut it is not the only indicator. 2ele!ant conte$tual conditions such as speakerLhearer intentions and con!entional procedures etc must be in place for any utterance to function properly as a particular speech act. These conditions are felicity conditions. ?or instance the utterance 6Gasif can sweep the floor0, although !ery much a declarati!e structure, may !ery well function as a command because the speaker (here a teacher and the hearer (here a student are in an appropriate social relationship == namely, there are appropriate conditions. *y obser!ing the speech acts different people perform we can infer things about them and their relations with others. 7ne who habitually performs the speech act of ordering others to do things is likely to be thought of as bossy. 7ne who always obeys the commands of others and who only limpidly re-uests others to do things is likely to be thought of as wimpy. #laywrights e$pertly e$ploit the patterns of speech act use so as to typify the traits of characters and bring out their relations. In /hakespeare0s ,ing Lear, when 1ear the king has his kingdom, whate!er he says functions as law. "t first, he decides to di!ide his kingdom into three parts and gi!e each of his daughters a part5 1R"25 Bean time we shall e$press our darker purpose.L Gi!e me the map there.L Fnow that we ha!e di!ided In three our kingdom, and t0 is our fast intent To shake all cares and business from our age, +onferring them on younger strengths, while we Qnburthen0d crawl toward death ....L (I.i. %:='8 *ut when he finds his third daughter will not !ow to 6lo!e him all0 like his first two daughters claim they will, immediately he cuts his ties with her5 1R"25 ... Here I disclaim all my paternal care, #ropin-uity and property of blood, "nd as a stranger to my heart and me Hold thee from this for e!er .... (I.i.n%=88: Howe!er, immediately after he has gi!en away his kingdom and power to his two wicked daughters, his utterances can no longer function as law == he is not listened to e!en if he performs the speech act of pleading with his daughters in power. There is no straightforward one=to=one relationship between an utterance and a speech act. Aery often the same utterance may function as more than one speech act. In the following e$ample, *iley0s utterance about his patience functions as a declaration in form, but as a threat in essence5 2IR1]5 h/harplyi Gi!e me that tape. *27G<5 I ha!en0t got onee 2I1R]5 By patience is not ine$haustiblee Tom /toppard, 'nter a /ree .an #laywrights are good at using speech acts as a fle$ible and powerful mechanism to help the reader grasp the important social relationship k 8. whether they are of roughly e-ual status or not, as is shown in the opening of Ionson0s The Alchemist5 ?"+R5 *elie!0t I will. /Q*T1R5 The worst I fart at thee. 371 +7BB7<5 Ha0you your witsJ Ghy, gentlemene for lo!e. ?"+R5 /irrah, I0ll strip you (I.i.8=' ). whether they are on good terms with each other or not, as is typically shown in the opening of Boliere0s The Doctor in &pite of "imself. /G"<"2R11R5 <o, I tell you I won0t do anything of the sort, and I0m the one to say and be the master. B"2TI<R5 "nd I tell you that I want you to li!e to suit me, and I didn0t marry you to put up with your carryings on. /G"<"2R11R5 7h, what a business it is to ha!e a wife, and how right "ristotle is when he says a wife is worse than a demone B"2TI<R5 Iust listen to that smart fellow with his half=wit "ristotlee /G"<"2R11R5 ]es, a woodcutter who knows how to reason about things, like me, who ser!ed a famous doctor for si$ years, and who as a youngster knew his elementary 1atin book by heart. B"2TI<R5 " plague on the crazy foole /G"<"2R11R5 " plague on the slute B"2TI<R5 +ursed by file day when I went and said yese /G"<"2R11R5 +ursed by the horrified notary who had me sign my own ruine and %. whether a -uarrel -uickly leads to challenge and abuses on the part of one (here the wife and sarcasm, threat, and action on the part of another (here the husband5 B"<TI<R5 "nd you, you drunkard, do you e$pect things to go on for e!er like thisJ /G"<"2R11R5 By good wife, let0s go easy, if you please. B"2TI<R5 "nd me to endure your insolence and debauchery to all eternityJ /G"<"2R11R5 1et0s not get e$cited, my good wife. B"2TI<R5 "nd that I can0t find a way to make you do your dutyJ /G"<"2R11R5 By good wife, you know that my soul isn0t !ery patient and my arm is pretty good. B"20?I<R5 ]ou make me laugh with your threats. /G"<"2R11R5 By good little wife, my lo!e, you0re itching for trouble, as usual. B"2TI<R5 I0ll show you I0m not afraid of you. /G"<"2R11R5 By dear better half, you0re asking for something. B"2TI<R5 3o you think your words frighten meJ /G"<"2R11R5 /weet object of my eternal !ows, I0ll bo$ your ears. B"2TI<R5 3runkard that you aree /G"<"2R11R5 I0ll beat you. B"21I<R5 Gine=sacke /G"<"2R11R5 I0ll wallop you. B"21I<R5 Gretche /G"<"2R11R5 I0ll tan your hide. B"2TI<R5 Traitor, wiseacre, decei!er, coward, scoundrel, gallowsbird, beggar, good= for=nothing, rascal, !illain, thief ... /G"<"2R11R5 hTakes a stick and beats her.i "h, so you want it, ehJ B"2TI<R5 7h, oh, oh, ohe /G"<"2R11R5 That0s the right way to pacify you. (8.i E%ploitation o Turn2ta8ing Patterns /peech acts are often connected together into se-uence of turns in con!ersation == a series of conser!ational gi!e and take that is of !ital importance in intensifying the conflict of the plot of drama and in re!ealing through the conflict the !aried feelings of the characters. In the following e$tract from 7scar Gilde0s An 8deal "usband, through the -uick interplay of ideas and personalities of the characters con!ersing, /ir 2obert +hiltern is shown as appearing to be at first cold, then indignant, then irritated, then apprehensi!e, and in the end unner!ed, whereas Brs +he!aley is shown as possessing an unhurried, nonchalant, contemptuous and o!erbearing attitude. B2/ +HRAR1R]5 hIn her most nonchalant manner.i By dear /ir 2obert, you are a man of the world, and you ha!e your price, I suppose. The drawback is that most people are so dreadfully e$pensi!e. I know I am. I hope you will be more reasonable in your terms. /I2 27*R2T +HI1TR2<5 h2ises indignantly.i If you will allow me, I will call your carriage for you. ]ou ha!e li!ed so long abroad, Brs +he!eley that you seem to be unable to realize that you are talking to an Rnglish gentleman. B2/ +HRAR1R]5 h3etains him by touching his arm with her fan and keeping it there while she is taking.i I realize that I am talking to a man who laid the foundation of his fortune by selling to a /tock R$change speculator a cabinet secret. /I2 27*R2T +HI132R<5 h*iting his lip.i Ghat do you meanJ B2/ +HRAR1R]5 h2ising and facing him.i I mean that I know the real origin of your wealth and your career, and I ha!e got your letter, too. /I2 27*R2T +HI132R<5 Ghat letterJ B2/ +HRAR1R]5 h+ontemptuously.i The letter you wrote to *aron "rnheim, when you were 1ord 2adlyus secretary, telling the *aron to buy /uez +anal shares == a letter written three days before the Go!ernment announced its own purchase. /I2 27*R2T +HI132R<5 hHoarsely.i It is not true. B2/ +HRAR1R]5 ]ou thought that letter had been destroyed. How foolish of youe It is in my possession. (I ?rom the abo!e e$tract we can see that, in con!ersations, especially in two character con!ersations, each speaker has roughly e-ual number of turns. Ghen two or more people are talking, e!eryone seems to know instincti!ely when and how to swap turns. *ut if a speaker has the most turns, controls what to talk about and who to talk ne$t, and interrupts others, then heLshe is powerful. #laywrights are particular about these con!ersational power rules in indicating the social position of the speakers, as is shown in the talk between mother and son at the beginning of Bajor *arbara. 1"3] *5 <ow are you attending to me, /tephenJ /TR#HR<5 7f course, mother. 1"3y *5 <o5 it0s not of course. I want something much more than your e!eryday matter=of=course attention. I am going to speak to you !ery seriously, /tephen. I wish you would let that watch chain alone. /TR#HR<5 hHastily relin-uishing the chain.i Ha!e I done anything to annoy you, motherJ If so, it was -uite unintentional. 1"3] *5 h"stonished.i <onsense. hGith some remorse.i By poor boy, did you think I was angry with youJ /TRAR<5 Ghat is it then, motherJ ]ou are making me !ery uneasy. 1"3] *5 h/-uaring herself at him rather aggressi!ely.i /tephen5 may I ask how soon you intend to realize that you are a grown=up man, and that I am only a woman. /TR#HR<5 h"mazed.i 7nly a == 1"3] *5 3on0t repeat my words, please5 it is a most aggra!ating habit. ]ou must learn to face life seriously, /tephen. I really cannot hear the whole burden of our family affairs any longer. ]ou must ad!ise me5 you must assume the responsibility. /TR#HR<5 Ie 1"3] *5 ]es, you, of course. ]ou were )' last Iune. ]ou0!e been at Harrow and +ambridge. ]ou0!e been to India and Iapan. ]ou must know a lot of things, nowH unless you ha!e wasted your time most scandalously. Gell, ad!ise me. G.*. /haw, .a4or )arbara Here, the mother dominates the dialogue, repeatedly forcing her son to be all ears to what she wants him to do for her. E%ploitation o Politeness Patterns #oliteness is all important aspect of human social interaction. "ll speakers in a society claim for themsel!es a kind of public 6self image0 == face, which consists of two aspects, positi!e face and negati!e face. 0ositive face refers to a speaker0s desire that hisLher consistent image should be appreciated and appro!ed of by others. @egative face refers to a speaker0s desire that hisLher actions should be unimpeded by others. Howe!er, speakers olden perform acts that may threaten the face of hearers. /ome speech acts such as insulting or abusing etc (calling a person 6damn fool for instance pose a threat to hearers0 positive face. Bany -uite tri!ial speech acts such as demanding or re-uesting people to do something etc (e!en asking a person to open the door, for instance, threaten the negative face of hearers, because they impede hearers0 wish to be free from imposition. These acts are called face threatening acts (shortened as ?T"s. In normal social interaction these acts are hard to a!oid altogether. *ut depending on tile conte$t of interaction and hisLher social relationship with the hearer, especially of hisLher intention, the speaker may choose to be impolite by using a direct form of ?T" (8 without making any mitigation at all without redress. (l +lose the door. Howe!er, if the speaker chooses to be polite, heLshe may try, to mitigate file amount of threat to gi!e face to tile hearer by using redressi!e ?T"s ()='5 () +ould you close the doorJ (% Gould you mind closing the doorJ (' I wonder if you could close the door. +ompared with (8, ()=(' are polite, as the speaker recognizes the hearer0s negative face wants and will only ask about the bearer0s ability to shut tile door. If the speaker chooses to be !ery polite, heLshe may merely state what the case is by using an indirect form of ?T" (K5 (K it0s a bit draughty, in here. In this way the speaker appears not to be coerci!e and a!oids performing ?T" at all. The speaker has other ways to minimize imposition5 apologizing admitting impingement, indicating reluctance, gi!ing compelling reasons, begging forgi!eness etc. (see *lown and 1e!inson, 8@;& #laywrights are clear about the important role politeness strategies play ill making dramas dramatically interesting. <o wonder there tends to be -uite a lot of politeness and impoliteness iii dramatic te$ts, as a way to indicate charactersu relationship or social conflict. "s readers we are interested in making clear whether the characters in the drama are polite towards one anotherH and, if there do occur samples of politeness or impoliteness whether there are particular styles of politeness beha!iour for particular characters. "t the beginning e$tract from Rugene Ionesco0s The Lesson, the #rofessor directs an elaborate display of politeness strategies (use of repeated apologies, begging for forgi!eness towards what is actually a !ery tri!ial imposition (by ha!ing kept the #upil waiting. #27?R//725 Good morning, good morning ... ]ou are ... er ... I suppose you really are ... er... the new pupilJ hThe #upil turns round briskly and easily, !ery much the young lady. she gets up and goes towards the #rofessorH holding out her hand.i #Q#I15 ]es, /ir. Good morning, /ir. ]ou see I came at the right time. I didn0t want to be late. #27?R//725 Good. ]es, that0s !ery good. Thank you. *ut you shouldn0t ha!e hurried too much, you know. I don0t know -uite how to apologize to you for ha!ing kept you waiting... I was just finishing ... ]ou understand, I was just ... er ... I do beg your pardon... I hope you will forgi!e me ... #Q#I15 7h, but you mustn0t, /ir. It0s perfectly all right, /ir. #27?R//725 By apologies ... (8&%=' The #rofessor0s e$cessi!e politeness to the pupil at the start of the pri!ate lesson is soon replaced by his domineering and aggressi!e pose when the lesson is well under way. #27?R//725 Ghat is fourJ Greater or smaller than threeJ #Q#I15 /maller ... no greater. #27?R//725 R$cellent answer. How many units are missing between three and fourJ ... or between four and three, if you0d ratherJ (8@) <ear the end of the lesson the #rofessor shows his true colours hypocritical, superficial, pretentious and, launches a storm of unmitigated impoliteness (non=redressi!e ?T"s demanding careful attention from the #upil while heaping warnings and threats on her. "ny of the #upil0s effort to participate in the interaction draws only admonition5 #27?R//725 R!ery language, Bademoiselle = note this carefully, and remember it till the day you die ... #Q#I15 7he yes, /ir, till the day I die ...]es, /ir ... #27?R//725 ... and again, this is another fundamental principlee!ery language is in fact only a manner of speaking, whichine!itably implies that it is made up of sounds, or ... #Q#I15 #honemes ... #27?R//725 I was just about to say so. 3on0t show off, airing your knowledgee ]ou0d better just listen. *y now e!en the #upil0s response is not allowed5 #Q#I15 ]es, /ir. #27?R//725 *e -uiet. /it where you are. 3on0t interruptl Use #+ Ass)m$ti#ns- P&es)$$#siti#ns 'nd C#n"e&s'ti#n'l Im$lic't)&e Ise o Assu$ptions and Presuppositions Assumptions are connected bits of information about how the world works stored in people0s mind as packages, called schemas. 0resuppositions are specific pieces of information imbedded in indi!idual sentences. #laywrights often e$ploit people0s ability to infer appropriate meaning from what is said or written by applying rele!ant assumptions or presuppositions about the world (including language itself to the linguistic message. Thus as readers we often call forth related schemas in our mind in constructing meaning 6behind the lines0. /o far as the use of schematic assumptions is concerned, the playwrights are likely to offer things that go against e$pected norms so that the schemas become fore=grounded and hence highly interpretable. /ee, for in stance, how the playwright produces comedy in the following dialogue by defeating the readers0Laudience0s e$pectations based on assumptions about normal situations, here about how proposals are made5 I"+F5.., we must get married at once. There is no time to be lost. GGR<371R<5 Barried, Br GorthingJ I"+F5 h"stounded.i Gell... surely. ]ou know that I lo!e you, and you led me to belie!e, Biss ?airfa$, that you were not absolutely indifferent to me. GGR<371R<5 I adore you. *ut you ha!en0t proposed to me yet. <othing has been said at all about marriage. The subject has not e!en been touched on. I"+F5 Gell ... may I propose to you nowJ GGR<371R<5 I think it would be an admirable opportunity. "nd to spare you any possible disappointment, Br Gorthing, I think it only fair to tell you -uite frankly beforehand that I am fully determined to accept you. I"+F5 Gwendolene GGR<371R<5 ]es, Br Gorthing, what ha!e you got to say to meJ I"+F5 ]ou know what I ha!e got to say to you. GGR<371R<5 ]es, but you don0t say it. I"+F5 Gwendolen, will you marry meJ hGoes to his knees.i GGR<371R<5 7f course I will, darling. How long you ha!e been about ite 7scar Gilde, The 8mportance of )eing 'arnest. (I In the abo!e e$tract, to us, Iack0s utterance at the beginning counts as a proposal already. *ut to Gwendolen, it is not == not a gentleman0s formal offer of marriage on bended knee to a lady. Ghat is more, the proposal is negotiated. Hence the fun. "nd 1ady *racknell0s remark about 1ady Harbury0s change after her husband0s death defeats our presupposition about bet normal reaction based on the use of the word 6poor0 imbedded in the utterance5 1"3] *2"+F<R115 I0m sorry if we are a little late, "lgernon, but I was obliged to call on dear 1ady Harbury. I ha!en0t been there since her poor husband0s death. I ne!er saw a woman so altered she looks -uite twenty years younger .... Gho would ha!e thought that instead of feeling e$tremely sorry for her husband0s death, 1ady Harbury is so relie!ed that she grows )4 years youngere In the following sketch, Biss #iffs0 presupposition about the -ualification for an applicant clashes sharply with the applicant0s (and also the readers0 assumptions as 84 what kind of -uestions are to be asked about him. Biss #ills should ha!e asked so many things about the pri!ate life of the applicant, hence the utter absurdity of the inter!iew. #I??/5 "re you a good mi$erJ 1"B*5 Gell, you0!e touched on -uite an interesting point there. #I??/5 3o you suffer from eczema, listlessness, or falling coatJ 1"B*5 Rr... #I??/5 "re you Airgo intactaJ I"B*5 I beg your pardonJ #I??/5 "re you Airgo intactaJ I"B*5 7h, I say, that0s rather embarrassing. I mean in front of a lady #I??/5 "re you Airgo intactaJ 1"B*5 ]es, I am, actually. I0ll make no secret of it. #I??/5 Ha!e you always been Airgo intactaJ 1"B*5 7h yes, always. "lways. Harold #inter, Applicant Ise o Con+ersational I$plicature In e!eryday con!ersations, what one says may not always be what one means. ?or instance, when someone is asked whether heLshe enjoyed a play he had just seen, heLshe says 6Gell, I thought the ice creams they sold in the inter!al were good0, and apparently heLshe means that heLshe did not enjoy the play. Grice (8@;K uses implicature for this kind of indirect, conte$t determined meaning. Grice claims that when people enter into con!ersation with each other, they tacitly agree to co=operate towards mutual communicati!e ends, thus obeying the cooperative principle and its regulati!e ma$ims5 8 the ma(im of uantity (gi!e an appropriate amount of informationH ) the ma(im of uality (say what is belie!ed to be trueH % the ma(im of relation (be rele!antH ' the ma(im of manner (be clear. These ma$ims are adhered to in normal interaction. Howe!er, the important point about these ma$ims is that they are often flouted, some times co!ertly, as when the speaker tells a lie and is not detected by the bearer, but more often o!ertly, as when this happens it is ob!ious to the hearer that there is a difference between what the speaker says and what heLshe particularly means by what heLshe says. ]et, the co=operati!e principle is still followed. /ince playwrights mainly con!ey what riley want to say through interchange between characters, in their dramas, there is normally fre-uent flouting of the co=operati!e principle in the characters0 talk, and hence con!ersational implicature. It is interesting that itLdrama dialogue speakers are gi!en the ability to 6pass messages0 to hearers without saying what they mean e$plicitly. The flouting of the ma$im of -uantity is ob!ious in Hamlet0s reply which gi!es no more information to #olonius5 #717<IQ/5 ... Ghat do you read, my lordJ H"BI.RT5 Gords, words, words. Gilliam /hakespeare, "amlet (Ⅱ. ii. &&=&@ This shows his disrespect for #olonius. The flouting of the ma$im of -uality is mostly seen in metaphorical language. It is interesting that 2omeo refers to Iuliet0s lips as a holy shrine and his own lips as blushing pilgrims, and that Iuliet does not mo!e and accepts 2omeo0s kiss5 27B.5 hTo Iulieti If I profane with my unworthiest hand This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this, By lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss. IQ1.5 Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, Ghich mannerly de!otion shows in this, ?or saints ha!e hands that pilgrims0 hands do touch, "nd palm to palm is holy palmers0 kiss. 27B5 Ha!e not saints lips, and holy palmers tooJ IQ1.5 "], pilgrim, lips that they must use in pray0r. 27B5 7h then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do, They pray == grant thou, lest faith turn to despair. IQ1.5 /aints do not mo!e, though grant for prayers0 sake. 27B5 Then mo!e not while my player0s effect I take. Thus from my lips, by thine, my sill is purgud. hFissing her.i Gilliam /hakespeare, Romeo and ;uliet (I.!. @%=84; Ge can see how respectful and de!oted 2omeo is to Iuliet in his lo!e for her. The ma$im of relation is probably the most commonly flouted ma$im and so is particularly meaningfulH mostly for a!oidance of a topic, as in the following e$tract5 *I??5 He threw me out of this house, remember that. 1I<3"5 Ghy did he do thatJ I ne!er knew why. *I??5 *ecause I know heus a fake and he doesn0t like anybody around who knowse 1I<3"5 Ghy a fakeJ In what wayJ Ghat do you meanJ *I??5 Iust don0t lay it all at my feet. Itus between me and him k that0s all I ha!e to say. "rthur Biller, Death of a &alesman "nd !ery typically in the following e$tract5 B"2G"2RT5 ]ou are !ery gay. 3id he talk about the di!orceJ B72R5 BmJ ]ou know I think we0!e been on the wrong track with Gill ( It0s no good arguing with a 2oper == B"2G"2RT5 ?ather, did heJ B72R5 7ld 2oper was just the same. <ow let him think he0s going with the swim and he0ll turn around and start swimming in the opposite direction ... 2obert *olt, A .an /or All &easons The flouting of the ma$im of manner is clear in 7scar Gilde0s An 8deal "usband, when Brs +he!eley thrusts at /ir 2obert +hiltern by punning. /I2 27*R2T +HI1TR2<5 "nd are you going to any of our country houses before you lea!e Rngland, Brs +he!eleyJ B2/ +HRAR1R]5 7h, noe I can0t stand your Rnglish house parties. In Rngland people actually try to be brilliant at breakfast. That is dreadful of theme 7nly dull people are brilliant at breakfast. "nd the family skeleton is always reading family prayers ... Here Brs +he!eley uses the double meaning of the phrase 6family skeleton0 == a chief support of a family or one who brings shame to one0s family == to dig at /ir 2obert +hiltern. "nd in /usan Glaspell0s Trifles, the flouting of the ma$im of manner is e!en clearer in the utterances of the male characters when they are trying to find e!idence for the murder ease5 +7Q<T] "TT72<R]5 h1ooking aroundi I guess well go upstairs first == and then to the barn and around there. hTo the /heriffi ]ou0re con!inced that there was nothing important here == nothing that would point to any moti!e. /HR2I??5 <othing here but kitchen things. hThe +ounty "ttorney, after again looking around the kitchen, opens the door of a cupboard closet. He gets up on a chair and looks on a shelf. #ulls his hand away, sticky.i +7Q<T] "TT72<R]5 Here0s a nice mess. hThe women draw nearer.i B2/ #RTR2/5 hTo the other woman.i 7h, her fruitH it didn0t freeze. hTo the 1awyer.i /he worried about that when it turned so cold. /he said the fire0d go out and her jars would break. /HR2I??5 Gell, can you beat the womene Held for murder and worryinu about her preser!es. +7Q<T]"TIu72<R]5 I guess before weure through she may ha!e something more serious than preser!es to worry about. H"1R5 Gell, women are used to worrying o!er trifles. The +ounty "ttorney0s ominous remark that she == Brs Gright k may ha!e more to worry about than that, and Br Hale0s ironic yoking together of trifles and woman ( 6women are used to worrying o!er trifles0 raise the 6kitchen things0 (6trifles0 to almost symbolic !alue5 They hint that the plot may well o!erturn con!entional !alues == women and trifles may turn out to be more important than men and other 6important things0. Chapter No: 20 PRAGMATICS AND STYLISTICS FOCUS ON • (ragmatic Theories • Speech Act Theory • Classiication o Speech Acts • The CoDoperati&e (rinciple • Con&ersational 'mplicature • The CoDoperati&e (rinciple and Literary )iscourse • The CoDoperati&e (rinciple and The 'nterpretation " Literature • 'nterest (rinciple • The CoDoperati&e (rinciple and Symbolism The first stylisticians seem to ha!e felt that the language of a te$t perfectly reflected the te$tual world. In this they were ( perhaps unconsciously ( following the ideas of Ghorf. The weak interpretation of the Ghorfian hypothesis holds that people0s world !iew is at least partially conditioned by their language. " linguistic study would therefore re!eal its meaning. <owadays it is more fashionable (and probably more accurate to think that meaning is the result of interpreti!e processes. Ge do not assume that all readers will come to share the same !iew of all aspects of a te$t0s meaning, though a general consensus is of course likely, and a grossly de!iant interpretation may signal problems with the production or reception of the te$t. Ge will therefore understand a te$t differently according to what we bring to it5 we cannot assume that it has a single, in!ariant meaning for all readers. /ince #ragmatics is the study of language in use (taking into account elements which are not co!ered by grammar and semantics, it is understandable that stylistics has become increasingly interested in using the insights it can offer. Ge are in a world of (relati!ely unstable meaningsH the role of the reader is that of an interpreter, not a mere passi!e recipient. The theories to be considered here were de!eloped primarily in relation to spoken interactions, but it will be argued that they are not irrele!ant to the interpretation of written te$ts. Ge do not propose to gi!e a full account of speech act theory here5 as we hope to show, it is of limited usefulness for the e$plication of literary discourse. #ratt (8@;; was among the first to show the usefulness of pragmatic theories to the study of literary te$ts. " clear, concise account of matters not considered here (such as the performati!e !erb hypothesis may be found in Thomas (8@@K. S$eech Act The#&( The term speech act does not refer simply to the act of speaking, but to the whole communicati!e situation, including the conte$t of the utterance (that is, the situation in which the discourse occurs, the participants and any preceding !erbal or physical interaction and paralinguistic features which may contribute to the meaning of the interaction. Ge are, in short, concerned with conte$tualised speech (see 1eech 8@&%5 $H ]ule 8@@:5 %(&. That is, the concern is not so much whether or not an utterance is grammatically correct, but whether or not the speaker achie!es her communicati!e purposeH hence, "ustin0s title "ow to Do Things with !ords. ?or instance, to say +old, isn’t it out of doors on a winter0s day may be no more than a phatic utteranceH if the speaker is addressing her hostess indoors, it may be interpreted as a hint to turn up the central heatingH if the interlocutors are looking at a house with a !iew to purchase, it may be interpreted metaphorically and so be tantamount to rejecting the possibility of buying it. Ghene!er we produce an utterance we are engaged in three acts. " locutionary act is the production of a well=formed utterance in whate!er language one is speaking. The illocutionary act is the meaning one wishes to communicate5 the illocutionary force we attach to a locutionary act is the meaning we intend to con!ey. The perlocutionary act is the effect of our words. If I say, please open the window and you do so, I ha!e achie!ed my perlocutionary aim. Githout entering into fruitless speculation about the intentions of authors, it seems that, in general terms, to look for the perlocutionary aim of most literary works is pointless. "rguably, most works of fiction do not ha!e a perlocutionary aim in any ob!ious sense (though one might argue that 3ickens, for e$ample, wished to change social conditions through his writing (see +ook 8@@'5 'K. Githin the fictional discourse, characters certainly ha!e perlocutionary aims. The aim of *rowning0s 3uke in 6By 1ast 3uchess0 is presumably to impress the en!oy whom he is addressing, and to persuade him that the proposed marriage would be an e$cellent arrangement, pro!ided that the bride beha!es better than the last 3uchess. If the ambassador reacts in the way many readers do, the 3uke0s aim will fail miserably. In order for a speech act to be well formed, certain circumstances must obtain. These are known as felicity or appropriacy conditions (for a summary, see /earle 8@:@5 ::. ?or e$ample, for a -uestion to be felicitous, not only must the social circumstances be appropriate (you do not interrupt formal proceedings to ask the time but the speaker must want to know the answer, and must also think that the hearer both knows the answer and is prepared to supply it. It follows then that neither e$am -uestions nor rhetorical -uestions are true -uestions. It is -uite possible for a well=formed locutionary act to fail5 6I disco!ered her with a young man in a tweed coat and flannel knickerbockers. They were kissing one another in the summerhouse.0 1ord Rmsworth clicked his tongue. 67ught to ha!e been out in the sunshine,0 he said, disappro!ingly. (#. G. Godehouse, 1ord Rmsworth and 7thers, 8@%;L8@::5 8K Xuite clearly, 1ord Rmsworth, by accident or intent, fails to pick up his companion0s intention in speaking. The illocutionary force (the effect she is aiming at of her utterance is concerned with the kiss, not the location. /he is far more worried about inappropriate suitors than about wasting rare Rnglish sunshine. The misfiring of illocutionary acts is common. /uch failures can be the result of simple misunderstanding, as well as of a wilful decision to be obtuse. <arrators sometimes make clear that this has happened5 61o!e0s young dream,0 says 1eslie 6ain0t what it used to be. It comes of all this li!ing together before you get married. Takes all the romance out of it.0 This is a pointed comment, aimed at Tre!or, who howe!er pretends to misunderstand. 62ight,0 he says. 6That0s what I tell Bichelle5 marriage is fatal to romance.0 (1odge, #aradise <ews, 8@@8L8@@)5 ; 7r5 6+an I see themJ0 asked Biriam. 6I don0t know,0 said Rloise again, apparently taking the -uestion at face !alue. (Rllis, /airy Tale, 8@@:L8@@;5 @@ (This e$ample neatly illustrates the loss to the language of the distinction between can and may. &irect Speech Acts These occur when there is a direct correlation between the grammatical form of an utterance and its illocutionary force (&hut the door, for e$ample. +ommonly howe!er, the mapping is not straightforward5 6/top it. Harry, why do you ha!e to turn into a de!il nowJ0 6I don0t like to lea!e anything,0 the man said. 6I don0t like to lea!e things behind.0 (Hemingway, 6The /nows of Filimanjaro0, 8@%@L8@:'5 ''& Here we ha!e an imperati!e, an interrogati!e and a declarati!e sentence, used appropriately though the illocutionary force of the -uestion is a complaint rather than a re-uest for information, which is how Harry interprets it. In such a case, where there is no direct mapping between form and function, we ha!e what are known as indirect speech acts. Indirect Speech Acts Ghen we use one speech act rather than another, and lea!e our hearer to work out the meaning we intend, we are dealing with indirect speech acts. 7ften they are used for reasons of politeness. In Rnglish, for instance, we normally a!oid the imperati!e e$cept in specific circumstances (of great intimacyH in the militaryH in addressing small childrenH or in situations of imminent danger. /o, +an you turn the radio downJ addressed to an adolescent is almost certainly a polite way of a!oiding the imperati!e. Githout that conte$t, we cannot be certain5 if addressed to a paraplegic, it may be a -uestion about physical capacity, and thus a direct speech act. Ghen a Glaswegian says !as you looking at me ;immyJ, he is not asking a -uestion, but issuing an in!itation to fight. In short, -uestions ha!e many different functions according to conte$tH it is up to our pragmatic e$perience to interpret them appropriately. This is not usually a difficult problem, since most of these are fi$ed collocations which occur in predictable situations, and therefore the interpretati!e burden on the hearer is not significant. It is part of our e$perience as members of a speech community to interpret them appropriately. 1e!inson (8@&% and Grundy (8@@K think that we can do without the concept of indirect speech acts. 1e!inson (8@&%5 );' suggests that it may be a mistake (and is certainly un=pragmatic to attempt to map synta$ onto speech actsH it may be preferable to look at the function of each speech act in conte$t, and accept that they can ser!e a wide range of purposes. Grundy argues that language is made up of segments that are meaningless in isolation5 morphemes and phonemes only con!ey meaning when they combine into words, which in turn combine into sentences (so that tap can be a noun or a !erb, according to the conte$t in which it appears (Grundy 8@@K5 848(K. These are possible solutions to the problem posed by indirect speech actsH they simplify analysis and are thoroughly pragmatic in their attention to conte$t rather than syntactic form. In the case of the Hemingway e$tract cited abo!e, the -uestion is clearly a complaint, not a re-uest for information (which is a!ailable in any case to the speaker, who knows -uite well that the man is dying, and has a right to be upset. It offers a solution to such oddities as the fact that Rnglish a!oids the imperati!e in most circumstances, whereas other languages do not. It is simply a matter of politeness in Rnglish, which is encoded differently in other languages. Cl'ssi+ic'ti#n #+ S$eech Acts Aarious types of speech acts ha!e been identified (see, for e$ample, ]ule 8@@:, and they are described below. Representati+e Speech Acts 2epresentati!e speech acts are statements and descriptions. The speaker offers her !iew of the world as she understands it. Buch fiction, like much ordinary language use, consists largely of representati!e speech actsH in particular, much of the narrator0s acti!ity consists of representati!e speech acts. "n interesting problem may arise when, in a first=person narrati!e, the representati!e speech acts of the narrator suggest a world !iew at odds with our own. The go!erness narrator in Henry Iames0 The Turn of the &crew belie!es in ghosts (possibly influenced by her reading of gothic no!els like The .ystery of Mdolpho, which she admits toH she interprets e!ents in a way which we might not. In considering types of narrator, we will see that a first=person narrator cannot say things that show inner knowledge of a character0s mind, any more than in real life we can say Nou are tired whereas Nou look tired is perfectly acceptable. This is because of the felicity conditions attaching to representati!e speech acts. Ge are e$pected to belie!e that what we say is true, and to ha!e e!idence for it. (<ote that this theory does not seem to take account of the possibility that we may lie. /ome narrators break this kind of rule regularly5 one of them is +onrad0s Barlow, in "eart of Darkness, who says5 )ut his soul was mad* )eing alone in the wilderness, it had looked within itself, and, by heavens: 8 tell you, it had gone mad* 8 had Q for my sins, 8 suppose Q to go through the ordeal of looking into it myself (8@4)L8@&%5 84&. /uch instances, when a narrator is perhaps being less than fully honest, are identifiable if we look at the kinds of speech acts in!ol!ed, and consider whether or not they are used appropriately. It is at its most interesting and rele!ant when the act performed is in some way malformed5 this is the case in the e$tract abo!e, when Barlow comments on the state of Furtz0s soul. This passage shows that Barlow and Furtz ha!e at least hubris in common. E%pressi+e Speech Acts R$pressi!e speech acts are those that re!eal the speaker0s attitude, such as congratulating, condoling or e$pressing pleasure. They ha!e a strongly interpersonal function. 7ne may therefore e$pect to find more of them in the discourse of characters within fiction than in the narratorial !oice, though they are found here too. "n e$ample occurs in the introductory section of Rllis0 The ?ther &ide of the /ire5 she fell in love with her husband’s son* )loody helle (8@&%L8@&K5 ;. It is a puzzling and dis-uieting remarkH it seems difficult to attribute the e$clamation to any but the narrator0s !oice, since no other has yet been heard. The reason for the uneasiness aroused by this remark may be e$plained by an analysis of interjections as deictic items. If they are deictic, they must be rooted in the situation of utterance, and be attributable to someone whose reactions are encoded. " remark of this kind is normally interpretable by a bystander with reference to something in the conte$t, in the same way as deictic items like here, there and the tense of !erbs are interpreted (see Gilkins 8@@K. /o here we are presumably in!ited to adopt a particular !iew of this illicit lo!e. " more straightforward e$ample occurs near the end of 0ride and 0re4udice, when the narrator remarks5 I wish I could say, for the sake of her family, that the accomplishment of her earnest desire in the establishment of so many of her children, produced so happy an effect as to make her a sensible, amiable, well=informed woman for the rest of her lifeH though perhaps it was lucky for her husband, who might not ha!e relished domestic felicity in so unusual a form, that she was still occasionally ner!ous and in!ariably silly. ("usten 8&8%L8@;)5 %@% The eponymous narrator of .oll /landers, when describing one of her e$ploits as a thief, comments5 I say, I confess the inhumanity of this action mo!ed me !ery much, and made me relent e$ceedingly, and tears stood in my eyes upon that subjectH but with all my sense of its being cruel and inhuman, I could ne!er find in my heart to make any restitution. (3efoe 8;))L8@;&5 )4) There is, in first=person narrati!es, sometimes an interesting correlation between e$pressi!e speech acts and representati!e speech acts which, as in the e$ample abo!e, are not necessarily well formed. This is a notable feature of *rowning0s 6By 1ast 3uchess0, and arguably one source of the reader0s sense that the 3uke is a thoroughly manipulati!e and slippery man. This feature, and its implications, is considered more fully in the conte$t of first=person narrators. &irecti+es 3irecti!es are essentially commands5 again, these are more likely to be found within character to character discourse. 3irecti!es addressed to the reader occur rarely in the narrator0s !oice, for the ob!ious reason that readers e$ist outside the communicati!e framework of the fiction. /terne regularly addresses his (fictional readers, who become -uasi=characters in themsel!es. In this particular instance, the real reader shares 6Badam0s0 puzzlement, and might almost be inclined to follow the instruction5 How could you, Badam, be so inattenti!e in reading the last chapterJ I told you in it, that my mother was not a papist . . . I do insist upon it, that you immediately turn back, that is, as soon as you get to the ne$t full stop, and read the whole chapter o!er again. (Tristram /handy, 8;:4L8@&4, I5 )4 <ot that re=reading the chapter will illuminate the matter, unless one0s mind is as contorted as the narrator0s. " comparable e$ample is5 ]ou are about to begin reading Italo +al!ino0s new no!el, 8f on a winter’s night a traveller. 2ela$. +oncentrate. 3ispel e!ery other thought. 1et the world around you fade. *est to close the doorH the TA is always on in the ne$t room. (+al!ino 8@&)5 @ 1ike /terne, +al!ino is interested in probing the con!entions of literary discourse. 3irecti!es may function in a manner analogous to rhetorical -uestions that is, as de!ices that promote engagement with the te$t. ?or e$ample, 1awrence writes5 &ee him stand on a wet gloomy morning * * * (6Tickets, #lease0, 8@))L8@@K5 %:. "ll these e$amples may remind us that the no!el0s origins lie (howe!er remotely in oral narrati!es, with a storyteller entertaining a real audience. In Tom ;ones ?ielding addresses the real reader regularly5 he was deeply conscious of being an inno!ator in the writing of fiction, and he wanted the ground rules clearly understood by his audience. This happens, for instance, in some of the prefaces to the books in Tom ;ones, when the reader is instructed in his task5 /irst, then, we warn thee not too hastily to condemn any of the 8ncidents in this our "istory, as impertinent and foreign to our main design * * * (8;'@L8@;%5 %@& Here it is ?ielding as author, not narrator, who is offering instruction. He has stepped out of his narratorial role temporarily, to comment on the work. Thus the relationship with the reader is wholly different. Co$$issi+es +ommissi!es are acts which commit the speaker to some future course of action. They include promises (and their con!erse, threats5 the difference depends on how the hearer will be affected by the proposed actH they are common in the discourse of characters in fiction, but rarer in the narrator0s discourse, though arguably the beginning of some no!els functions as a commissi!e5 The story 8 shall tell begins like this (Rllis, The );th Fingdom, 8@&)5 ;. ?nce upon a time might also be regarded as a commissi!e5 including the implied promise of a particular type of story. That is a matter of our knowledge of genre, and the e$pectations aroused by this particular opening. &eclarations 3eclarations are a uni-ue form of speech act, in that their successful performance depends upon the status of the speaker, and the precise circumstances surrounding the e!ent. They are institutionalised in a society. 3eclarations include sacking a worker, performing a marriage, and sentencing a criminal. Gi!en that a declaration is the one speech act that has an effect in the real world, in bringing about the state to which it refers, it can hardly occur within literary discourse e$cept as a pseudo=speech act, as when characters marry, or are sent to prison. 7f course, there is a !iew that all speech acts in literature are pseudo=speech actsH this is ultimately a rather fruitless debate, which is not, we think, rele!ant to how readers interpret a te$t, knowing as we do that the whole is designed to entertain, and mirrors, howe!er distortedly, the real world (see #etrey 8@@45 :;. Speech Acts and Interpretation This section may seem to readers to ha!e something of the butterfly=collecting spirit about it5 there are plenty of e$amples, but little in the way of concrete or useful ways of using speech act theory in interpreting literary te$ts (e$cept perhaps when they are malformed, particularly in first=person narrati!es, as e$emplified in some of Barlow0s discourse, and that of *rowning0s 3uke. /peech act theory in itself does not seem to us to offer many insights into how literary language works, or how it achie!es its effects. ?ish offers an interesting interpretation of +oriolanus using the theory, and a good account of /earle0s thoughts on fictional discourse, but at the end of a lengthy discussion he concludes5 &peech<act theory is an account of the conditions of intelligibility, of what it means to mean in a community, of the procedures which must be instituted before one can even be said to be understood (8@&45 )'K. #etrey (8@@4, on the other hand, offers a defence of the contribution of speech act theory to the study of literary te$ts. The C#DO$e&'ti"e P&inci$le The philosopher H. #. Grice de!eloped a co=operati!e principle (8@:;L8@&; which, he considers, underlies successful !erbal communication. That is, we assume, in normal circumstances, that these are the ground rules that we obser!e when speaking and interpreting utterances. The co<operative principle states5 .ake your conversational contribution such as is reuired, at the stage at which it occurs, by the accepted purpose or direction of the talk e(change in which you are engaged. To this he appends four ma(ims, which clarify how the co=operati!e principle works5 'a%i$ o <uantity 8. Bake your contribution as informati!e as is re-uired (for the current purposes of the e$change. ). 3o not make your contribution more informati!e than is re-uired. 'a%i$ o <uality Try to make your contribution one that is true. 8. 3o not say what you belie!e to be false. ). 3o not say that for which you lack ade-uate e!idence. 'a%i$ o Relation *e rele!ant. 'a%i$ o 'anner *e perspicuous. 8. "!oid obscurity of e$pression. ). "!oid ambiguity. %. *e brief. '. *e orderly. The co=operati!e principle is intuiti!ely attracti!e, and it seems likely that we (unconsciously use it, or some !ery similar approach, in our interpretation of discourse. 7f course, different societies may interpret the ma$ims differently5 there is bound to be cross= cultural !ariation, but it is difficult to imagine a society in which some such fundamental assumptions are not made about the bona fides of interlocutors, howe!er much surface realisations may !ary. 7n the other hand, it is not clear to what e$tent a 6con!ersational0 principle can be generalized5 the Gricean ma$ims are not e-ually applicable to e!ery situation. #hatic utterances are not designed to fulfil any of the ma$ims. They oil the wheels of social discourse by acknowledging the e$istence of other people, and suggesting (possibly inaccurately the speaker0s continued interest in them. ?urthermore, many !erbal interactions are not con!ersations, or at least, there are sub=types, such as gossip or storytelling. To gossip interestingly, speakers are likely to engage in e$aggeration, depart in !arious ways from the strict truth, and generally try to make their comments interesting, at the e$pense of !arious ma$ims. /ome interactions, such as -uarrels, are inherently unco=operati!e. (Baybe that is how we recognize what is going on. Ge all lie, from time to time, for good or bad reasons. Ge all say irrele!ant things, but are irritated when others do so. Thus Grice presents an idealized account of the a!erage !erbal interaction. "nd there are other types of linguistic acti!ity, which may in!ol!e the +# to !arying degrees5 committee meetings, lectures, inter!iews are tightly structured linguistic e!ents, where decisions about the application of the ma$ims are dependent on the decisions of the chairman or lecturer. Ghile the rules for each of these e!ents !ary, some at least of the ma$ims should be obser!ed. The ma$im of manner is !ery much a matter of con!ention in such situations, but the ma$ims of -uantity, -uality and relation are supposed to be obser!ed by cooperati!e speakers. In sum, unless we trust our interlocutors ( e$cept when we ha!e reason for not doing so ( and assume that they are obeying the +o=operati!e #rinciple in some form, there might seem to be little point in talking in the first place. The ma$ims are not always obser!ed, and the failure to do so can take a number of forms. 8. Opting out: making clear that one is aware of the ma$im, but is pre!ented for some reason from obser!ing it. #oliticians and reporters obser!ing an embargo on the publication of news are in this situation. ). ,iolating a $a%i$: often with the intention to mislead, this is often a -uiet act, also known as lying. %. A clash arises when one cannot be fully co=operati!e. ?or instance, to fulfil one ma$im (say, of -uantity might re-uire one to break another (of -uality, in a situation where one is not certain of the accuracy of some information, and hence uncertain whether to say something which may be helpful, but where one0s e!idence is inade-uate. 7ne may therefore hedge one0s contribution. #hrases such as 8 understand that, or it seems to me may indicate this. '. !louting: this is the most interesting way of breaking a ma$im. 7ne makes clear to the hearer that one is aware of the co=operati!e principle and the ma$ims, so that the audience is led to consider why the principle or a ma$im was broken. The assumption, in other words, is not that communication has broken down, but that the speaker has chosen an indirect way of achie!ing it. It may be that something in the situation pre!ents gi!ing a direct answer to a -uestionH considerations of politeness may inhibit the speaker. This is one of the most crucial aspects of Grice0s theory for the interpretation of literary te$ts. Ge assume that flouts generate implicatures, and it is up to the reader to pick up appropriate ones. Thus the ma$im of manner is flouted when we use a metaphor or irony, but we assume that it has communicati!e effects. The same ma$im is in!ol!ed when a non=chronological order is selected for telling a story. If we begin a con!entional whodunnit with the murderer approaching his !ictim, we will spoil the story, and doubtless lose all our readers, unless, of course, it turns out that what amounts to a flout within the genre of detecti!e fiction turns out to be a psychological study of the moti!ation of murderers, where the loss of the mystery element may be insignificant. In considering the effects of the implicatures that may be generated by flouting a ma$im, we should always remember that the whole act of reading a no!el is a slow process, which takes place o!er time (in that way, it is comparable to music, and perhaps contrasts with the initial impact of looking at a painting. It is easy to lose sight of the fact that during the reading process, implicatures will accumulate, and that we balance one against another in order to arri!e at an interpretation. In that respect, a book like this, which ine!itably deals with short e$tracts, traduces the reading process. It can only be hoped that readers will consult their memories, and their own knowledge of te$ts, to supply e$amples and so enrich the reading process. C#n"e&s'ti#n'l Im$lic't)&e +on!ersational implicatures arise from a combination of language and situation5 the same utterance on different occasions might not generate an implicature, or might suggest a different one. They are rooted in the situation in which they occur, and must be interpreted taking the conte$t into account. If we assume that our interlocutor is obeying the co= operati!e principle when one of the ma$ims appears not to be fulfilled, we will attempt to infer the meaning intended. R$ploiting a ma$im may happen because allowing the hearer to work out the point of a remark may be a polite way of a!oiding what are known as face threatening acts (?T". ?or instance, if you ask me to lend you fi!e pounds, I may find it difficult to refuse politely. If you simply say that you will ha!e to walk home because you ha!e no money, the implicature might be that I should lend you some, but neither of us suffers damage to our selfesteem if I fail to do so. This kind of implicature is commonplace in e!eryday language, and plentiful in literary te$ts5 Beanwhile Biss *rodie was being -uestioned by the girls behind on the -uestion of the *rownies and the Girl Guides, for -uite a lot of the other girls in the Iunior /chool were *rownies. 6?or those who like that sort of thing,0 said Biss *rodie in her best Rdinburgh !oice, 6that is the sort of thing they like0. /o *rownies and Guides were ruled out. (/park, The 0rime of .iss ;ean )rodie, 8@:8L8@:K5 %8 Here the narrator spells out the implicature that the girls deri!e from their teacher0s comments5 they are keen to keep her good opinion. " reader (like /andy, one of the children may deri!e other implicatures. /andy acutely percei!es that the *rownies might be seen as ri!als to Biss *rodie, offering the children an alternati!e focus of interest and acti!ity. 2eaders may also recognize the control Biss *rodie e$ercises o!er her pupils, or they may perhaps look back nostalgically to the days when teachers commanded respect. 1eech (8@&% points out that the ma$ims and the implicatures they generate e$plain in a principled way why we may e$ploit the ma$ims rather than obeying the co=operati!e principle5 interpreting an implicature is partly the responsibility of the hearer, as well as being encouraged by the encoder of the message. It may be the most economical way of saying something, or it may simply add to the interest of an utterance. By grandfather used to introduce my mother as my daughter by my first wife. In fact, he had only one wife. The implicature, howe!er, is that he must ha!e had more than one, since he was being so specific. The ma$im of -uantity is clearly flouted here, and perhaps also that of relation. The only moti!ation appears to be to arouse curiosity about his pri!ate life. 2hetorical -uestions often generate implicatures, and tend to in!ol!e the ma$im of manner5 61et0s get back to this loathsome plot to ruin my life0s whole happiness. Ghy can0t you be a sport, Qncle +larence, and stand up for meJ +an0t you understand what this means to meJ Geren0t you e!er in lo!eJ0 6+ertainly I was in lo!e. 3ozens of times. I0ll tell you a !ery funny story ( 0 6I don0t want to hear funny stories.0 6<o. <o. Xuite. R$actly.0 (Godehouse, Lord 'msworth and ?thers, 8@%;L8@::5 8@ Here Qncle +larence, by answering a series of rhetorical -uestions, effecti!ely aborts the force of his niece0s complaints. +learly she has no wish to hear about his past lo!e lifeH her only concern is with his present conduct. The C#DO$e&'ti"e P&inci$le 'nd Lite&'&( Disc#)&se 7ne would e$pect that the Gricean ma$ims should ha!e some rele!ance for the processing of literary discourse, on the innermost le!el of character=to=character interactions. It is perhaps more interesting to consider whether it is not also applicable to our processing of the whole te$t, in the interaction between narrator and reader, and the relationship between narrator and characters. If Grice is right in his hypotheses, then it seems most likely that we use the co=operati!e principle in interpreting any discourse. ?urthermore, arri!ing at meaning !ia the ma$ims in!ol!es effort, and so increases engagement with the te$t. The issue is whether using Grice in the interpretation of literary discourse can usefully guide our reading. Iust as in ordinary con!ersation, we may judge that a work is too long, obscure or whate!er. Ghat Grice does is to suggest the ways in which, !ia the implicatures, we may be guided towards interpretation ( though we may, of course, conclude that our initial judgement was correct and that, ?innegan0s Gake, for e$ample, is indeed unco= operati!e throughout. Grice0s ma$ims, in relation to literary work, suggest interpretati!e procedures ( procedures which we are familiar with from our daily con!ersational interactions. "s *rown and ]ule (8@&%5 8% point out, the spoken language is used primarily for interpersonal communication, while the written is predominantly transactional. ?ictional discourse bridges these two functions5 one might suggest a higher degree of transactional elements in much of the narratorial commentary, while con!ersations between characters are (to !arying degrees mimetic of the spoken language. 7n the character=to=character le!el, the ma$im of -uality operates in a way analogous to real=life interactions. +haracters will lie, or e$aggerate or conceal. The only difference is that, sometimes at least, the reader may know more than the characters, and so be in a better position to arri!e at possible implicatures not a!ailable to them. Bore interesting are those cases where the narrator plays fast and loose with the ma$ims. There are some fictions where the narrator may be regarded as unreliable ( the Go!erness in Iames0 The Turn of the &crew, for e$ample. Barlow in +onrad0s "eart of Darkness is perhaps another e$ample, though in this case it is his interpretations that a reader may -uestion, rather than the e!ents he describes. General !iolation of the ma$ims is a feature of unreliable narrators. +lashes between the demands of !arious ma$ims occur in the interaction of characters, but perhaps more interestingly in the narrator0s discourse. 7ne might argue, for instance, that a writer of detecti!e stories is faced with clashes throughout the writing, because she knows 6who dunnit0 and conceals, for as long as possible, the murderer0s identity from the reader. Bore broadly, this applies to any of us telling a story, and any narrator trying to engage the interest of the reader. /park, in The 0rime of .iss ;ean )rodie, plays with this5 she re!eals the broad outlines of the plot early in the fiction, but teasingly does not directly answer major -uestions readers may ha!e. It should be noted that the first three ma$ims refer to what is said, while the ma$im of manner refers to how it is said, and so is under the most direct control of the speaker or writer. It might also seem that this ma$im is hardly rele!ant to literary discourse, which sometimes seems to abound in ambiguities, may be obscure, proli$ or unduly compressed, and is certainly not necessarily orderly. <o!elists regularly reorder the way in which a story is told5 it is common for narrati!es to interwea!e the present with the past, most often in the interests of the ma$ims of manner and relationH it is thus a most useful way of guiding readers, who are in!ited to consider the implicatures of such departures from the con!ersational ma$ims. The ma$im of -uantity is difficult5 what is the appropriate amount of information re-uired in a fictionJ Ge ha!e to take it on trust that the narrator has judged appropriately, and gi!en us all that is re-uired. *ut there are interesting e$ceptions to this generalization, in fictions such as Iames0 6#aste0 or The Turn of the &crew (8&@&L8@:@, where the amount of information offered is insufficient to allow secure interpretation5 there are permanent gaps which are ne!er filled. These matters are considered more fully below. "nother kind of e$ample is found in "gatha +hristie0s The .urder of Roger AckroydA the first=person narrator is also the murderer. His narrati!e is, on the whole, true, but he withholds crucial e!idence, so !iolating the ma$im of -uantity. /ome readers feel that the concealment this necessitates makes the whole fiction rather a cheat5 it might be held to break a con!ention of the genre, which normally re-uires that the reader should be in possession of sufficient information to anticipate the detecti!e0s conclusions. Character2Le+el Interaction and I$plicatures Ge shall consider a dialogue from the end of Hemingway0s 6The /hort Happy 1ife of ?rancis Bacomber0 (8@%@L8@:'. The story tells of a disastrous safari5 Bacomber runs away from a lionH his wife sleeps with Gilson, the white hunterH finally Bacomber regains his courage and is confronting a wounded buffalo when his wife shot at the buffalo * * * as it seemed about to gore .acomber and had hit her husband about two inches up and a little to one side of the base of his skull (8@%@L8@:'5 ''4. The narrator is thus committed to the proposition that the shooting of Bacomber was an accident. (7f course, that does not mean that the characters are aware of the true facts of the case. There is a distinction between 6shooting at0 (and missing, and 6shooting0 (and hitting. This is an e$ample of a con!entional implicature, which depends upon our knowledge of the grammar of a language (see 1e!inson 8@&%. "s Brs Bacomber weeps, Gilson says5 6That was a pretty thing to do0, he said in a toneless !oice. 6He would ha!e left you too0. 6/top it,0 she said. . . . 6There0s a hell of a lot to be done,0 he said . . . 6Ghy didn0t you poison himJ That0s what they do in Rngland0. 6/top it. /top it. /top it,0 the woman cried. . . . 67h, please stop it0, she said. 6#lease, please stop it0. 6That0s better0, Gilson said. 6#lease is much better. <ow I0ll stop0. (8@%@L8@:'5 ''8 Gilson !iolates the ma$im of -uality since he did not see what happenedH nor is he in a position to predict the future. The ma$im of manner is in!ol!ed too5 this is a most inappropriate way to address a widow. The implicature is that she murdered himH this is not true, as the narrator points out. ?urther, he has no e!idence of this, so the -uality ma$im is !iolated. It is also grossly inappropriate to demand politeness, in the manner of a nanny, at such a juncture. The ma$im of manner is thus !iolated throughout. <ote that Gilson has no problems with any clash, but is happy to say 6that for which he lacks ade-uate e!idence0. (This, of course, ignores the possibility that psychologically Brs Bacomber is a murderer, in the sense that, in the long term, she may be -uite pleased at what happened. Thus the implicatures generated here are partly a!ailable only to the reader5 the communication of implicatures is not only between characters, but between narrator and reader. 4igher2Le+el Interaction: "arrator2Reader I$plicatures '(emplification Ge shall now consider the contribution that each of the ma$ims can make to the interpretation of fiction. The narrati!e of Ioyce0s 6" #ainful +ase0 (8@8'L8@&& concerns Br 3uffy, a middle=aged bank clerk, who becomes friendly with Brs /inico. They meet at concerts, and for con!ersation. The relationship is broken off when she takes his hand and presses it to her cheek. ?our years later, she is run o!er by a train and 3uffy feels first re!ulsion, then (!ery briefly remorse, before regaining his composure. +aptain /inico plays no part in the story5 he is at sea most of the timeH the narrator tells us he hoped Br 3uffy might marry his daughter ( a re!ealing comment, gi!en that 3uffy is closer to the mother0s age than the daughter0s. Zuantity This ma$im re-uires that we offer the appropriate amount of information. 7n one le!el, it is clearly irrele!ant to literary discourse, since the situation, information and so on are all fictional. There cannot therefore be a particular -uantity of information that is re-uired or useful. Howe!er, the ma$im of -uantity may e$plain why a reader seeks meaning in apparently tri!ial or irrele!ant details. Ge are likely to attend to such details precisely because of the implied guarantee of rele!ance made by any published work. Ghile we may pay little heed to the clothing or appearance of an ac-uaintance, in a literary te$t we may see it as an inde$ of character andLor social position. "t the beginning of 6" #ainful +ase0 we are offered a description of the room inhabited by the protagonist, which he furnished himself. The passage is full of negati!es. The colours are predominantly black and white, with a black and scarlet rug. Initially more interesting are the books, arranged by size, and ranging from a copy of the .aynooth +atechism sewn into a notebook (which suggests a relic of his schooldays to Gordsworth0s complete works. The selection of books seems to trace his intellectual de!elopment (later in the story we are told of books he buys after breaking off his affair with Brs /inico, but, since the narrati!e deals with a failed lo!e affair, which does not take place in this room, the reader may justly wonder whether the ma$im of relation has not also been !iolated. Ghen the narrator describes Br 3uffy, negati!es are also prominent. +olour is mentioned in the description of his physical appearance5 his face is the colour of 3ublin0s streets. This may suggest that the narrator intends that the preceding description of the room should encourage the reader to interpret the character !ia his surroundings. That is, metonymic discourse of this type may be interpreted through the ma$ims of the co=operati!e principle. Ge may also find that the same incident is told more than once. The moti!ation can be of many types, but sometimes it may be that an omniscient narrator is showing agreement with an interpretation offered by a character within the fiction. This will increase the credibility of the character, and may affect our o!erall interpretation. In contrast, a character0s assessment of a situation may differ from that of the narrator, as in the e$tract from 6The /hort Happy 1ife of ?rancis Bacomber0 abo!e, where the narrator and character ha!e different interpretations of e!ents. Zuality This ma$im has to do with the truth or falsity of an utterance. +haracters within fictions will lie, or e$aggerate or conceal and, as we ha!e seen, narrators do too. Bore interestingly, discrepancies between the !iews of narrator and character may emerge. In 6" #ainful +ase0 the neglectful husband tells the in-uest into his wife0s death that the marriage had been happy until she had taken to drink a couple of years before. The narrator has already offered another !iew5 the captain is so uninterested in his wife that it ne!er occurs to him that she might be attracti!e to someone else. It is up to the reader to reconcile these !iews, bearing in mind that an omniscient narrator0s !iews normally take precedence o!er those of a character. .anner This ma$im refers not to what is said, but to how it is e$pressed. It is therefore most firmly under the control of the speaker or writer. 7n the highest le!el of te$tual organisation, any departure from chronological order in!ol!es this ma$im (and that of relation. "ny figure of speech breaks the ma$im of manner, since a metaphor, for instance, is not literally trueH ironies are often e$pressed in terms either of e$aggeration or a contrafactual statement. Betaphors and other figures of speech ha!e already been considere. Instances of re=phrasing suggest different !iews of an e!ent, and also in!ol!e this ma$im. In George Backay *rown0s 6The Two ?iddlers0, Ga!in, one of the protagonists, tells his companion, /torm, of a mutual attraction between himself and a guest at a wedding. The narrator comments that &torm was popular with the island girls and Cavin had no success with them at all (8@;'5 8'. Relation 7n the face of it, one assumes that, gi!en the editorial process undergone by any published work, e!erything within a fiction will be rele!ant. This ma$im e$plains why it is that we seek for rele!ance in tri!ial details ( such as the arrangement of books on 3uffy0s shel!es ( which perhaps would not strike us as significant in real life. This ma$im is crucial for the interpretation of figures of speech, where one is in!ited to consider the rele!ance they may ha!e to the narrati!e. 7ne might further consider that the account of 3uffy0s meals can be considered here. This (!ery short story begins with a description of the suburb and house where he li!es. ?rom his windows he could look into a derelict distillery. This begins the series of negati!es with which the narrati!e is peppered. 3uffy0s lunch consists of beer and dry biscuits5 this sounds like a parodic communion. Ge are told that his friendship with Brs /inico nourished him. Taking the emphasis on food and nourishment together, one may conclude that the initial reference to the distillery is highly rele!ant5 it begins a chain of metaphors, metonymies and similes which together illuminate Br 3uffy0s miserable e$istence. Iust as 3uffy has rejected the consolation the +hurch could offer, so he refuses also Brs /inico0s companionship, and condemns himself to a solipsistic e$istence. R!en the apparently tri!ial (and so !iolating the ma$im of relation reference to the distillery can be interpreted as encouraging a particular reading of the te$t. It is not suggested that this reading is only a!ailable through consideration of the ma$ims5 that is plainly not the case. Grice0s ma$ims offer one way of approaching a te$t, and suggest elements in it which can be considered in their light, with useful results. #erhaps the main contribution that an awareness of the ma$ims can make is that they inform our reading5 any kind of de!iation from a ma$im may be significant. It is here (as perhaps also in life that the ma$ims guide interpretation. The C#DO$e&'ti"e P&inci$le 'nd the Inte&$&et'ti#n #+ Lite&'t)&e In a wide=ranging re!iew of the applicability of pragmatic theories to literary discourse, +ook (8@@' argues that the co=operati!e principle is inapplicable to literary discourse. In a discussion of its limitations, he suggests that it applies primarily to relations between ac-uaintances, not intimates or those in disparate power relationships. He notes that the ma$ims are regularly broken in -uarrels, when we are repetiti!e, irrele!ant and probably do not pay much attention to the truth. 7ne response to that is that it is precisely because the ma$ims are infringed that we are aware of the nature of the interaction5 we judge it against a norm of co=operati!e beha!iour. *ut the more profound point is that, when we are reading a literary te$t, we are essentially voyeurs. "s such, we obser!e with interest, and are perhaps prepared to adopt whate!er attitudes may be necessary for the 6willing suspension of disbelief 0. %oyeurs are interested in the minutiae of others0 li!esH they li!e !icariously. They may therefore be e$pected to judge the language they encounter using the same means they would were it to occur in real life, with the crucial difference that a voyeur can enjoy a -uarrel, or a lo!e affair, without ha!ing to endure the conse-uences. +ook further considers that the wide range of works regarded as literary, which range from the fairly factual to the fantastic, means that the -uestion of the truthfulness (the -uality ma$im of an utterance is irrele!ant or unhelpful. He similarly considers the -uantity ma$im to be irrele!ant, since a literary work has no practical or social function. Therefore the work must be too long, but some works are praised for concision. 7ne can respond to this on two le!els. ?irst, the application of the cooperati!e principle and ma$ims may work differently on different le!els of the discourse. In dialogue, which is analogous to real=life con!ersation, one should be able to apply the ma$ims as usual. In the discourse of the narrator, the matter is more comple$, though the real=life analogy e$ists too5 we tell each other stories, often for a range of interpersonal reasons. This can clearly be an imposition upon the audience, for which it may or may not feel ade-uately rewarded. /econdly, he ignores the implied contract we all enter into when we read a fictional work5 we may suspend some of our disbelief, but ne!ertheless we are likely to process the te$t in much the same way as other types of discourse, though we play the credulous reader. In place of these theories, +ook suggests that we read literature in order to change our mental representations of the world. *ut arguably this is co!ered by the ma$im of relation, and is certainly fundamental to /perber and Gilson0s 2ele!ance theory. (#ilkington )444 considers the issue of literariness, and why we read literature, in the light of rele!ance theory. His contribution is considered below, in that conte$t. It is ultimately difficult to see why we should attend to any discourse unless it affects us in some way. +ook proposes that a crucial function of literary discourse is the refreshing of schemata (essentially, our pre= e$isting knowledge structures, whether of our 6world !iew0 or encyclopaedic knowledge, of language or te$t structure. " difficulty with this !iew is that we continue to read no!elists like Iane "usten. +ook suggests that her fictions did originally function to o!erturn schemata5 a reader, whose !iews had been formed by Tom ;ones as to the beha!iour of the middle classes in the country, would find 'mma offered a !ery different !iew (8@@'5 8@'. He admits that this does not account for the fact that we continue to read, and e!en reread fictions which we know well. /ometimes, of course, it is we who ha!e changed, and so we return to the te$t with new e$periences and perceptions, which may change our !iew of the te$t, as he also admits. +ook0s argument is in many respects attracti!e, but, while noting that affecting cogniti!e change must be the intended effect of any discourse in some sense (as rele!ance theoreticians hold, it does not seem to sol!e the problem of defining 6literariness0 or e$plaining why and how people read literature in the first place. 7f course, as +ook points out (8@@'5 '', we cannot know what Homer intended when he composed the 8liad. Ge can be absolutely certain that our understanding will differ radically from that of its original audience. Buch scholarly effort may allow us to reco!er something of its world !iew, cultural assumptions and so on, but when we first approach the poem, it will almost certainly ha!e a no!elty effect which could not be assumed for the original audience. Heroic poems, like folk and fairy tales, are part of the common stock of their community. "n audience may judge one performance against another, but the story itself will be familiar and unlikely to change the cogniti!e en!ironment of the audience. The same point applies to the reading of Iane "usten5 we may read for information about a past society, and so create ( or refresh ( our schemata of what it was like. *ut that is to read for sociohistorical reasons, which is a !alid approach, but irrele!ant to the literary -ualities of the te$ts. If +ook were correct in his suggestions, one might e$pect that e$perimental poetry, fiction (and musice would attract major audiences. *ut, as he notes, the e!idence shows that this is not the case (8@@'5 8@). It takes time for such works to be assimilated, which almost suggests that we prefer that the critics endure cogniti!e change, and then tell us what to think. He is probably right to suggest that schema refreshment is one of the effects of literature (and certain other types of discourse (8@@'5 8@K, but the theory does not answer the -uestion of what literariness really is, or why we !alue literary discourse. It does suggest ways in which te$t is processed, and so may account for some of the effects it has on the reader. +ook does not seem to us to ha!e found the answer to what 6literariness0 is. +ertainly, speech act theory and the co=operati!e principle were not designed to answer this problem, nor are they able to do so. Ghat they do is offer an e$planation of how te$ts may be processedH some of the attitudes readers bring to the processing of te$t, and why we arri!e at certain interpretations. Thorne proposes what we belie!e to be the raison d’\tre of literary discourse (though he is discussing only poetry. Ge read poems (or should in a way which is -uite different from the way in which we read other te$ts, because in the case of other te$ts it is the imposition of one, and only one, meaning that is important. 1earning to read a poem . . . is a matter of learning to hear what normally we must be deaf to5 the ine$haustible ambiguity of utterances. (8@&&5 )@4 It would be difficult to sustain an argument that most no!elists (or poets are e$ceptional thinkers5 what they can do is manipulate language in interesting ways, and thus teach us something of the potential of language. +ook also argues that the politeness principle (*rown and 1e!inson 8@&;H ]ule 8@@:, which basically refers to our wish to get our own way and maintain a satisfactory public self= image or 6face0, is !iolated in literary discourse because it always imposes on the reader0s face (owing to the intimate topics it discusses. Howe!er, this ignores the fact that we can choose to read or not read a particular work ( as Godehouse points out, if readers are not interested, they throw him aside and go out to picture palaces (A Damsel in Distress, 8@8@L8@:85 K. The interpersonal element is prominent in some no!els, when the relationship between narrator and reader is !ery important5 ?ielding in Tom ;ones spends much time addressing the reader (*ooth (8@:8 calls the relationship between narrator and reader a sub=plot. ?ielding begins by saying that an author should consider himself to be like a man who keeps a public ordinary, at which all 0ersons are welcome for their money (I, 8, and not like a gentleman who in!ites his friends to dinner. Therefore, the author must be attenti!e to the taste of his guests. In the final !olume, he takes lea!e of the reader, comparing the e$perience of reading the no!el to tra!elling on a stage=coach5 the destination, and so the moment of parting, has arri!ed. 7ne might argue that ?ielding is, at least at times, !ery conscious of the 6face0 wants of his readers, and attenti!e to them. (The apparent attenti!eness may owe something to his an$iety to instruct readers in the art of reading fiction. In contrast, one might consider the thoroughly antipathetic !oice of the narrator in /park0s The Driver’s &eat, which is unsettling in its understandable refusal to enter into the mind of a character who is apparently bent upon getting herself murdered. The te$t is full of as ifs and similar formulations. The narrator rarely e$ercises omniscience5 when it occurs, it remains unsettling5 she will come forward and repeat all she remembers and all she does not remember, and all the details she imagines to be true and those that are true * * * (8@;4L8@;'5 )%. It is difficult to establish a strong interpersonal relation with such a narrator, and this is presumably the point. Inte&est P&inci$le 1eech (8@&% proposes that there is also an interest principle, analogous to the cooperati!e principle, which would e$plain many features of e!eryday discourse as well as aspects of literary language. The e$istence of understatement or litotes, hyperbole, e!en irony (which he prefers to consider an aspect of politeness and metaphor may be accounted for under this heading. Bore ob!iously, the interest principle seems to be at work in some te$tual features that seem designed purely to amuse5 6In fact,0 he went on, laying the whole deck of cards on the table and talking turkey without reser!e, 6he lo!es you like a ton of bricks and his dearest wish is that you will consent to sign your future correspondence Bonica "llsop0. (Godehouse, Galahad at *landings, 8@:KL8@::5 ;K The ludicrous ju$taposition of a string of (judiciously amended fi$ed collocationsH the redundant formulation talking turkey and speaking without reserveH the misapplied simile (does 6he0 also lo!e bricksJ, finishing with the bathetically commonplace reference to changing a name upon marriage can only be designed to amuse the jaded reader by the ele!ation of common linguistic infelicities almost to an art form. 7ther aspects of 1eech0s interest and politeness principles will be considered in the conte$t of irony. It suffices to note here that litotes is common in 7ld Rnglish poetryH in the modern language it sur!i!es primarily for self=deprecation (not bad if 8 do say so myself and, as 1eech suggests, as a counterweight to the !ery common use of hyperbole (you are out of your mind. "s he points out, these formulations apparently !iolate the ma$im of manner5 they do so primarily to attract our attention and amuse. Ghile the proliferation of principles and ma$ims seems undesirable, 1eech has drawn attention !ia this principle to what is, we think, one of the major moti!ations for reading literature5 we do so to enjoy oursel!es. The ludic principle might well be the prime moti!ation for reading fiction, e!en if one might think it takes a warped mind to say that reading some works is a pleasure in the usual sense. "s 1eech concedes, the interest principle draws attention to things that can, by and large, be handled !ia the ma$im of manner, so long as we are prepared to admit that a major moti!ation in a lot of language use is not transactional, but designed to entertain. C#ncl)si#n Ge hope we ha!e shown that, on a range of different le!els, te$ts can be studied in the light of the co=operati!e principle with some benefit. The use of speech act theory is, on the whole, less !aluable as a tool. *ut it is worth stressing that these tools allow us to e$plain how it is that we ha!e arri!ed at a particular interpretation. They are not infallible guides which point to meaning. Barlow0s discourse may make us uneasy5 looking at the way he uses the wrong speech act tells us why we mistrust him. /imilarly, we can e$plain why we come to certain !iews !ia the implicatures we access. This may lend a measure of respectability to our reading. This is a general point about how language works5 if it were always used in a fully transparent manner, the world would be much less interesting, though some linguists might be happier. In the ne$t chapter, we will present some of the sample analyses of the te$ts for your guidance. Part T#o S'm$le An'l(ses Analysis o Poe$s at All Le+els In this chapter, we ha!e been discussing the general linguistic features of poetry in terms of one single element at a time. "nd owing to limitation of space, some elements such as speaker (who is speaking in the poemJ, tone (how the poem says what it says == with a note of sadness or delight, anger or lo!e, solemnity or irony, disappointment or satisfactionJ are not discussed separately. <eedless to say, poems are comple$ wholes. The elements of poems do not work indi!idually but in combination, and categories can o!erlap. /o to think about a single issue ne!er fully does justice to an indi!idual poem. 2eading any poem fully and well in!ol!es all the -uestions about speaker, tone, setting, craft, form and tradition, and focus on linguistic analysis re-uires us to locate the possible stylistic features of a poem in terms of phonologicalLgrapholngical, le$ico=grammatical, and semantic le!els. 7f course, statements about literary te$ts need not to be always all=round and comprehensi!e5 some te$ts may !ery well be marked by phonological features, some by syntactical. *ut to follow the suggested procedure will guarantee that no items of possible stylistic significance are neglected. Here we can analyze one of Gallace /te!ens0 best poems, The &now .an. The Sno# 'an 7ne must ha!e a mind of winter To regard the frost and the boughs 7f the pine=trees crusted with snowH "nd ha!e been cold a long time To behold the junipers shagged with ice, The spruces rough in the distant glitter 7f the Ianuary sunH and not to think 7f any misery in the sound of the wind In the sound of a few lea!es, Ghich is the sound of the land ?ull of the same sound That is blowing in the same bare place ?or the listener, who listens in the snow "nd, nothing himself, beholds <othing that is not there and the nothing that is. Ghat is striking about this poem is that it is made up of only a single sentence, as is shown in the use of a full stop at the end of the last stanza. This single sentence, howe!er, is ambiguously formed, either offering ad!ice or a definition, which might perhaps be couched in blunt terms5 7ne must be as cold=minded as a snow man if one would not think that a wintry cold place implies misery. Ge are not sure as yet5 Is the speaker of the poem ad!ocating emotionlessness as an appropriate attitude towards the grim surroundings and as a defence against despairJ 7r is the speaker lamenting the dehumanization that would be necessary to escape such emotionJ 7r is the speaker emphasizing the need to achie!e total harmony by becoming dispassionately one with the sceneJ " careful study of the !ocabulary of this poem will help re!eal the theme. Ge find that in this poem there are a whole set of words and phrases associated with winter and man0s feeling, and the last stanza makes the word nothing stand out. The words and phrases in the first two stanzas create a series of images that con!erge into a !isual scene == the trees ha!e been subjected to wintry transformation by the frost, snow, ice and the weak sun5 pine trees crusted with snow, junipers shagged with ice, and spruces made rough by the distant glitter of the sun. This !isual imagery implies the possibility of percei!ing beauty in the chiaroscuro (distribution of light and shade, especially in a painting of shapes and te$tures5 the crusted pines tower abo!e with their foliage at the top of their tall trunksH the shaggy junipers spraw flat and disorderly in their low branchingH the conical, +hristmas=tree=shaped spruces are roughened but glittering in the distant sun. The scene may not be in!iting, it ne!ertheless possesses stark beauty. These !isual effects, howe!er, are counterpoised by the audial effects presented in the third and fourth stanzas which are brought about by the sound of the wind, the sound of a few lea!es, the sound of the land, the sound that is blowing in the bare place. Thus the stark !isual beauty is gi!en an o!ertone of miserableness, a misery that an emotional obser!er would think of there. *ut if the obser!er has got a mind of winter and has been cold a long time, i.e. if he has become dispassionate and coldly unemotional, then he will not feel the misery any more. In the last stanza, both the !isual and the audial appear5 the listener listens and beholds. *ut e!erything by now seems to resol!e, as the word nothing in this stanza implies, into one great white nothingness in the snow, and the harsh reality is but the nothing that it is. R!en the obser!er himself, like the snow man, will become nothing himself, and enter total harmony with the surroundings == a state of, in Rrnest Hemingway0s fa!ourite phrase, nada de nada por nada ( i.e. nothing from nothing for nothing. The study of the !ocabulary supplies us with an answer to the abo!e -uestions, at least in part. Ghat the speaker is emphasizing is5 The reality of the obser!able landscape is just the nothing that is, which has no further dimensions of meaning beyond its physical e$istence. Therefore to think of misery is only to add a false meaning, which is not deri!ed from reality but from an obser!er0s emotional reaction. The only way a person can a!oid thinking of misery in such a barren place is to become nothing himself, a person without feeling. The repetition of certain words merits our attention. In the third stanza, sound and wind appear in a nominal group. The ne$t line echoes the word sound. The same word appears again in the relati!e clause which begins the fourth stanza. The second line of this stanza contains the word wind repeated from the third stanza. The word same in this line is repeated in the ne$t line. In the fifth stanza the word nothing occurs three times. It is ob!ious that the le$ical repetition in the third and fourth stanzas adds to the effect of misery, and the le$ical repetition in the last stanza foregrounds the key philosophical word nothing. Boreo!er, from the nominal group the sound of the wind in the third stanza all the way through each line of the fourth stanza, alliteration ofLsLoccurs. /ince the subject of the entire construct in the two stanzas is the sound of the wind, LsLalliteration is undoubtedly sound symbolic. The syntactical pattern of this poem is especially noteworthy (Feyser, 8@;:. The beginning stanza at a first glance appears to stand alone as a complete syntactic structure. *ut we find that the ellipsis of one must occur at the beginning of the second stanza. This indicates that the clause in the first stanza is coordinated by the clause in the second stanza5 8 7ne must ha!e a mind of winterLTo regard...H "nd (one must ha!e been cold a long timeLTo behold ... The two clauses appear to form a perfect symmetryH both ha!e an infiniti!e structure with a !erb and a compound object5 ) To regard the frost and the boughs... To behold the junipersl, The spruces rough... *ut as we read on, we find that the infiniti!e structure in the second clause is itself coordinated by another infiniti!e structure introduced by and in the first line of the third stanza. Thus 8 is e$tended to something like5 % 7ne must ha!e a mind of winterLTo regard...H "nd (one must ha!e been cold along time To behold...H and not to think of ..., "nd ) becomes ' To regard the frost and the boughs To behold the junipers.... The spruces rough...H not to think of any misery in the sound of the wind In the sound of a few lea!es The fourth stanza consists of three relati!e clauses descending from the nominal group the sound of a few leaves5 K the sound of a few lea!es which is the sound of the land (which is full of the same wind that is blowing in the same bare place Ge notice the repetition of the same /#+ syntactic structure for three times here which echoes the earlier repetition of a /#" structure in the first two stanzas. The third relati!e clause ends with the phrase /or the listener. It is followed by a clause introduced by who. Interestingly, this clause in a way repeats the structure of the clauses in the first two stanzas5 : who listens in the snow, and, nothing himself, (who beholds <othing that is not there and the nothing that is Bore interestingly, this clause has an ambiguous status5 we may simply treat it as a relati!e clause modifying the nominal group the listener, thus adding another relati!e clause e$tending downwards as is shown in K, or ta$ing its non=restricti!eness, just take it as parallel to the clauses in the first two stanzas5 ; 7ne must ha!e a mind of winter To regard "nd (one must ha!e been cold a long time To behold... and not to think... who listens in the snow and, nothing himself, (who beholds <othing that is not there "nd The nothing that is /uch intricate manipulation of the syntactic pattern on the part of the poet often obliges the reader to re=analyze the structure of the poem in order to see the truth of its synta$. The syntactic form of the poem is so wonderfully controlled that it is directly related to the content that the poet wants to con!ey5 one must constantly change one0s outward perspecti!e in order to achie!e a real and accurate understanding of reality. Baking the poem0s synta$ a !irtual mirror of its content, and bringing the kind of numbing effect of phonological, le$ical and syntactical repetition to a culmination in the final great white nothingness, constitute a brilliant poetic achie!ement. A W'( in% A St(listic An'l(sis #+ P#et&( 'ichael S- Clar8 Int&#d)cti#n 1anguage and literature would seem to be related, but a re!iew of the literature of language learning finds them often worlds apart. /ince 8@'K, literature and especially poetry ha!e been e$cluded from most language learning programmes, largely because of an emphasis on the study, rather than the reading, of literature (Gilroy=/cott, 8@&%. 1iterary criticism continued to focus on interpretation, and the field of linguistics had little to say about literature beyond the sentence le!el (+hing et al. 8@&4. The grammar=translation approach to language learning utilized literary te$ts, but with no attempt to establish their rele!ance beyond the arena of cultural understandingH we were reminded that literature was its own reward, along perhaps with a worn=out dictionary. The subse-uent ad!ent of the audiolingual approach had e!en less use for literary te$ts, when compared to the careful and gradual accumulation of correct linguistic structures (Giddowson, 8@&). /ince then, howe!er, a substantial body of language learning theory has focused on the communicati!e basis of language. Gith this socio=cultural shift in our perspecti!e has come a renewed interest for the integration of literature into language learning programmes. "dditional support for this perspecti!e comes from recent research in psycholinguistics and reading and the corresponding !iew that the reader is an acti!e participant who brings meaning and !alue to a particular te$t (Goodman, 8@:;H /mith, 8@;%. St(listics The emphasis on te$tLreader interaction has necessarily generated a strong interest in literature as social discourse (#ratt, 8@;;H ?owler, 8@&8 with its connected participants, e$pectations and purposes. The potential for linguistic contribution to literary discourse is e$plored under the category of stylistics. /tylistics can be further described as the study of literature as a mode of communication (Giddowson, 8@;K. 3e *eaugrande and 3ressIer conclude that 6it follows that style is really only definable in terms of the operations carried out by the producers and recei!ers of te$ts...0 (8@&858:. ?owler discusses literature as social discourseH both reader and literary te$t are included in a social frame5 6as discourses, all kinds of ways are open to interpret and describe (literary te$ts in terms of their !ital cultural functions0 (8@&85;. 2egarding language teaching and learning, the -uestion becomes whether literature can reasonably demonstrate the communicati!e link between form and function, and thus be of ser!ice to the needs of language learners. Gi!en an awareness of literature as discourse, together with our current understanding of the communicati!e functions of language, we must e$amine the potential uses of literary te$ts in the design of teaching materials, together with methodological approaches for their presentation. /tylistics is such an approach. "ccordingly, we wish to present here a stylistic analysis of a single poem to see if such an analysis can con!ey to R/1 and R?1 learners important information about te$tual cohesion and coherence in language, as well as indicate certain schematic strategies (!an 3ijk [ Fintsch, 8@&% that may gi!e learners access to such information. /uch an approach should also pro!ide us with procedures for de!eloping the ability to both recognize and interpret such notions as reference, register and illocutionary acts. It remains to establish a significant link between literary and non=literary te$tLdiscourses. If we accept as our prime goal the enabling of learners to both comprehend and produce discourse as it occurs in a natural !ariety of human conte$ts, then we must pursue that !ariety. "s Giddowson comments5 6?or someone to correctly interpret discourse he needs to be able to recognize rele!ant conditions in situations he has ne!er encountered before...0 (8@;@58K:. P#et&( 'nd P#ems #oetry in particular has often been a!oided when literature is proposed (see BcFay, 8@&). "fter all, the arguments run, how can either e$plication or interpretation of such economical or aesthetic use of language be of much use to the beginning or e!en intermediate learner of RnglishJ "dd to that the literary con!ention of time, meter, metaphor, and so forth and you ha!e a problem beyond the reach and therefore pro!ince of most language learners. This need not be a criticism, howe!er, of poetry, but rather the methodology and purpose to which it is applied. Its application is, in fact, often proposed as a di!erting measure of relief from the predictable routine of a strictly linguistic approach to language learning (Giddowson, 8@;@. This side=show use of poetry has resulted in the shredding of otherwise readable poemsH R. R. +ummings and 1ewis +arroll are only two of the many whose poems ha!e been drafted and pressed into some linguistic ser!ice. These ha!e not been happy soldiers. /uch e$plications often focus on the more popular code=breakers, but it is not necessary to rely on these sometimes esoteric models of language. Their use has often eclipsed much poetry that uses apparently normal language (+hing et al., 8@&4. " fresh look at contemporary poetry will re!eal its o!erriding 6concern with contemporary issues=issues which are the concern and pro!ince of nati!e and non=nati!e speakers alike. In fact, such poetry is often defined by its author0s decision to call it poetryH fragments from newspapers or o!erheard con!ersations, for instance, may, by their mere presence in the poem, constitute an aspect of poetic language (/hort, 8@&%. This focus on ordinary language is important, especially when regarding the selection of particular poems that illustrate rele!ant features of literary discourse. Halliday long ago suggested that both literary and non=literary te$ts could be described by common features of so=called ordinary language (Halliday et al. 8@:'. Bore recently, B. 1. #ratt has stressed this aspect5 6The !ery notion of literature is a normati!e one... critics who try to define literature without reference to human !alues and preferences easily end up presupposing !alues and preferences ine!itably their own0 (8@;;58)'. 7ur particular te$t is the poem 6the way [ the way things are0 by <ila <orth/un, an "merican Indian (/hoshoneL+heppewa poet5 the #ay E the #ay things are 8 gramma thinks about her grandchildren They0re losing the ways 3on0t know how to talk indian ' don0t understand me when i ask for tobacco don0t know how to skin a rabbit sad sad & they0re losing the ways but gramma you told your daughters marry white men 8) told them they would ha!e nicer houses fancy cars pretty clothes 8: could li!e in the city gramma your daughters did they couldn0t speak indian anymore how could we grandchildren learn )4 there are no rabbits to skin in the city we ha!e no gramma there to teach us the ways )' you were still on the reser!ation asking somebody anybody please get me tobacco <ila <orth/un (8@;@ <orth/un0s poem seems especially useful for its apparent use of ordinary language. #ratt insists that it is not necessary to distinguish literary materials from any other kind5 6It is people, not properties, that ,make !erbal message a !erbal work of art. = people writing, editing, re!ising, reading and judging0 (8@;;58)'. The poem is noteworthy for both its lack of metaphor and its con!ersational tone. " brief definition of poetry = by a poet = will help clarify the term 6ordinary0. #oet Gary /nyder, in an essay on the paleolithic roots of poetry, writes5 6#oetry (is the skilled and inspired use of the !oice and language to embody rare and powerful states of mind that are in immediate origin personal to the singer, but at deep le!els common to all who listen0 (8@K;588;. Disc#)&se 'nd Inte&'cti#n /nyder0s 6all who listen0 remark affirms, from the poet0s !iewpoint, what many ha!e understood to be the interacti!e relationship among te$t, reader and discourse comprehension (see Tierny [ Bosenthal, 8@&). This interacti!e process begins with the recognition by the reader that the te$t=discourse indeed has potential for meaningH we e$pect it to make sense. *rown and ]ule remark5 6The natural effort of hearers and readers alike is to attribute rele!ance and coherence to the te$t they encounter until they are forced not to0 (8@&%5::. Initially, this encounter with the te$t in!ol!es recognizing the poem, and poetry, as an acti!ity type of its own (1e!inson 8@;@. This is rele!ant because it shapes our e$pectations as readersLlisteners of the poem. In the same way, recognition of a particular speech act == making a re-uest, for instance == will affect our approach to the poem as discourse ("ustin, 8@:)H /earle, 8@:K. C#hesi#n 1anguage users will first encounter a te$t by its surface features, i.e., a configuration of words ha!ing some propositional de!elopment (Giddowson, 8@;&, or continuity. "ccording to Halliday and Hassan (8@;:, it is cohesion that establishes this continuity, and cohesi!e ties which gi!e us access to it5 6The concept of ties makes it possible to analyze a te$t in terms of its cohesi!e properties and gi!e a systematic account of its patterns of te$ture0 (8@;:5'. Included among these cohesi!e properties are reference, substitution and ellipsis, reiteration, collocation and conjunction. The poem 6the way [ the way things are0 con!eys information about a cultural conflict in!ol!ing family members, and centres on the role of the grandmother figure, gramma. The narrator is the granddaughter. *riefly, in the first stanza of the poem, she relates her grandmother0s thoughts. In the second stanza, she reports her grandmother0s ad!ice. In the third stanza, she reports the conse-uences of that ad!ice, and in the final stanza, she repeats the grandmother0s re-uest. Three generations of family members are specifically referred to within the poem5 gramma, her daughters and her grandchildren. In order to identify the !arious participants in the discourse, it is useful to begin by looking at the considerable !ariety of pronominal reference, and how that reference changes from stanza to stanza, according to function and point of !iew. ?or e$ample, in the first stanza, the grandmother0s thoughts are related5 she thinks about her grandchildren (line 8. Ge see as well the possessi!e reference to her grandchildren. The third person plural they () refers back to the grandchildren. "nd it is the grandmother who complains 6don0t understand me when i ask for tobacco0 (', K. In the second stanza, the grandmother is confronted, as indicated by the abrupt use of the ad!ersati!e conjunction but (@, and the direct, second person you (84. The possessi!e form your (84 refers to the daughters of the grandmotherH they are, of course, the mothers of the grandchildren as well, but ne!er in the poem are these women referred to in their role as mothers, but only as daughtersH their role, or function, is pronominally indicated and suggests responsibilities and e$pectations as well. *y now, they (8), 8& refers to the daughters of the grandmother rather than the grandchildren. Githin the third stanza, the use of we (8@, )) refers only to the grandchildren. 7ther family members are pronominally e$cluded, as it were, and a pattern of surface elements within the poem is emerging, and it concerns issues as well as relationships. The final asking (); of the poem now posits a crucial -uestion5 Gho, after all, is being askedJ Is it a member or member of the familyJ HardlyH by the end of the poem, the potential 6getters0 of tobacco are anonymous5 somebody anybody ()K. " look in se!eral dictionaries (e.g., The "merican Heritage 3ictionary of the Rnglish 1anguage re!eals little difference between these indefinite pronouns == somebody being a bit more specific than anybody, but still unnamed. Ghat is more significant, as pro!ided within the conte$t of the poem, is the se-uence of the words5 somebody precedes anybody. That is, we might reasonably assume that the initial re-uest for tobacco is to somebody known by gramma. If that re-uest goes unheeded, then anybody might do == perhaps e!en the reader of the poem (as literary participant. "nd why notJ "pparently, this re-uest has gone unheeded for nearly two generationsH time is running out. Bore importantly, to language learners, this urgency or !alue is indicated in the discourse by the author0s le$ical choice. Me'nin 0( Ass#ci'ti#n +ohesion in a te$t can be con!eyed by means other than reference. " concern in the poem with the pronouns of possession suggests a look at other notions of possession as well. Ge ha!e three such instances5 losing (), &, ha!e (8), )), and get ();. /uch le$ical collocation suggests access to an 6associati!e potential0 (Tierney [ Bosenthal, 8@&). In the first stanza, for instance, the line utheyure losing the waysu (), & refers to the inability to 6talk indian0 (% or 6skin a rabbit0 (: or 6understand me when i ask for tobacco0 ('. In the second stanza, the word ha!e (8) refers not to ability, but to material things associated with li!ing 6in the city05 houses, cars and clothes (8%, 8', 8K. Their itemized irrele!ance is reinforced, and signaled, by their presentation as list5 nicer houses fancy cars pretty clothes R!en the adjecti!es (nicer, fancy, pretty suggest superficial, ephemeral !alues. In the third stanza, the word have ()) reappears, now re!ealing part of the sad sad (; irony of the poem, that is, what the grandchildren do not ha!e5 someone (anyone to 6teach us the ways0 ()%. ?inally, there is the plea to 6get me tobacco0 ();. Ghereas the poem begins by reporting a loss, it ends by asking for a re!ersal of this process5 to have, to gain, to obtain, to receive, all the associations of get. 1earners might also obser!e the only use in the poem of the present progressi!e tenseH losing indicates an action in progress == therefore not yet complete or finishedH this may be the only element of optimism in the discourse. The semantic sense alone re!eals little of the importance of loss and gain within the conte$t of this poetic discourseH only by seeing these !erbs (losing, ha!e, get in a conte$tual pattern does a knowledge of their corresponding pragmatic !alue begin to emerge. 1anguage learners might go on to e$plore the associati!e potential of other ,cohesi!e chains. (Tierney [ Bosenthal, 8@&) in the discourse == for e$ample, know, learn, teach, understand. Reiste& *rown [ ]ule (8@&% suggest, as #ratt has, that it is people who communicate and make reference, and people who interpret and make inferences. "s Halliday and Hassan ha!e suggested, certain cohesi!e ties in a te$t enable readers to establish continuity, or patterns of te$ture. They also suggest that cohesion needs to be supplemented by a notion of register, which they ha!e defined as 6!ariety according to use0 (8@:'5;;, or 6appropriateness to situation0 (8@;:58%. *rown refers to the necessity of this in discourse5 6The adult second language learner must ac-uire adaptability of register in order to be able to encode and decode the discourse around him correctly0 (8@&458@8. /ridhar (8@&) discusses 6register confusion0 in non=nati!e Rnglish literature, and 2i!ers and Temperly propose that the recognition of register will 6... help (learners to recognize the author0s intent in con!ersational material in written Rnglish0 (8@;&58'. 2egister is often discussed in terms of degrees of formality and informality, and, in Turner0s words, reflects 6adjustments to an audience0 (8@;%58&:. #oetry is, in some ways then, a case in contradiction5 as genre, it is formal, published, and publicH yet its content is often intimate. To that e$tent, the reader is also more in!ol!ed, to perhaps the 6deeper le!els0 of /nyder0s definition. 1eech (8@:@ identifies se!eral features of register that may indicate degrees of formality. "mong these are the presence of idiomatic phrases, and the use of contractions. +ontractions, for e$ample, are fre-uent (they0re, don0t, couldn0t and further indicate a collo-uial, familiar register. R!en the lack of punctuation or capitalization indicated informality, a lack of concern for orthographic con!entions, and perhaps other con!entions as well. /uch use indicates to us, as readers, the nature of the social relationships among the participants of this poetic discourse. The granddaughter=narrator uses the familiar, e!en intimate, e$pression when referring to her gramma. 7n the other hand, gramma laments the fact that her grandchildren cannot talk indian (%, and that her daughters no longer speak indian (8&. /ince there is no language called 6Indian0, we must assume a collo-uial usage, a term peculiar to a particular group, indicating a particular meaning. Gho would use such a termJ #erhaps white men, perhaps the grandchildrenH in any case, another reminder of 6The way things are0. "ny impression of the poem as informal or casual, howe!er, may be decepti!e. Ge ha!e yet a remaining e$ample in the discourse to !erify perhaps its most purposeful acti!ity5 that is, the speech act of re-uest. How important is the grandmother0s re-uestJ +onsider the imperati!e please ():. It is the most formal element in the poem, and its use indicates a politeness often reser!ed for strangers == somebody anybody certainly -ualify. The pragmatic !alue of this please is further indicated by its ability to command a single line in the arrangement of the poem == indeed it is the only word to do so. 1eech also notes that in any gi!en situation we may 6automatically switch0 to the appropriate register. The familiar tone of the poem, as indicated by the fre-uent collo-uial markers, continues until the final plea when the registers are abruptly mi$ed. "n understanding of the semantic sense alone of the word please is inade-uate to account for its urgent !alue at the end of the poem. 7nly by hearing the term in contrast to the o!erall tone of the poem, do we sense this urgency. 2egister, then, like the patterning of pronouns, and the associati!e meanings of possession and loss, further e$tends the potential for a stylistic interpretation of <orth/un0s poem. C#he&ence /tylistics reminds us that our goal is still the coherent interpretation of literary te$t as discourse. "s Giddowson states5 6It is only when we see how items con!erge on a common frame of reference that we make sense of connections and achie!e coherence in discourse0 (8@&%5;4. "nd #ratt speaks of the need for a conte$tually based approach to te$ts that spans !arious discourse types, among them literature, and finds such an approach in speech act theory5 6/peech act theory offers a useful and interesting way of treating (this kind of conte$tual information0 (#ratt 8@;;5&4. "ccording to /earle, when we make an utterance, we also perform an act, such as asking a -uestion, making a statement, issuing a warning, and so on. These constitute a special class described earlier by "ustin (8@:) as illocutionary acts, which may be recognized by their function=as, for e$ample, the grandmother0s re-uest for tobacco. #ratt points out that 6ordinary language0 is accompanied by 6ordinary language rules0 and outlines the work of Grice (8@;K concerning in particular the 6appropriateness conditions0 that accompany a particular illocution == conditions which language users generally assume to be in effect. Hence, asking, or contradicting, or pleading, or ad!ising is all illocutionary acts. In 6the way [ the way things are0 all of these acts are at work, and the relationships among participants suggest what is appropriate, or can be e$pected, under the circumstances. ?or e$ample, in the act of ad!ising (6you told your daughters marry white men0, the appropriateness condition re-uires the speaker to be in a position of authority. *y implication, this telling was appropriate, and in the third stanza, this is !erified5 6your daughters did0 (8;. "ppropriately, the daughters did as they were told. The effect howe!er is to heighten the sense of irony regarding the sad results. ?urthermore, the se-uence of illocutionary acts == from telling to asking == indicate a re!ersal or loss of authority, and yet another aspect of 6the way things are0. This conte$tual aspect is affirmed by Giddowson5 63iscourse is coherent to the e$tent that we recognize it as representati!e of normal language use, and to the e$tent that we can accept the se-uence of illocutionary acts as conforming to known con!entions0 (8@;&5''. Schem' The#&( The communicati!e emphasis of late in language learning and teaching stresses that there is far more to understanding discourse than a strictly linguistic perspecti!e allows. In other words, say !an 3ijk and Fintsch, 6much of the information needed to understand a te$t is not pro!ided by the information e$pressed in the te$t itself, but must be drawn from the language user0s knowledge of the person, objects, states of affairs, actions, or e!ents the discourse is about0 (8@&%5%4%. The language user0s ability to represent this knowledge and information in an accessible pattern is represented by the notion of schema theory0 (*artlett 8@%), 2umelhart 8@&4. 2umelhart defines schema as 6la data structure for representing the generic concepts stored in memory0 (8@&45%'. " scheme, then, enables us to tie together, or assign meaning, to new information based upon what we already know. Rssential to this understanding of the role of schema in discourse comprehension is the awareness that the schema is always constructed. Aan 3ijk and Fintsch (8@&% present a strategic approach to comprehension based upon the role of schema in which they detail a !ariety of comprehension strategies which enable language users to assess !arious conte$tual conditions and thus infer the significance of a particular speech act, for e$ample. They are especially concerned with the way schemata or 6schematic strategies0 enable language users to anticipate information from te$ts. There e$ist also 6schematic constraints0 which can be compared to Grice0s appropriateness conditions. 3ifferent situations call for different strategies in the construction of coherent te$t. It is this constructi!e nature of schema which 2umelhart terms 6the building blocks of cognition0 (8@&45%%. Ge may already, in fact, ha!e acti!ated !arious schemata in looking at <orth /un0s poem. In the speech act of re-uesting, for e$ample, it is a social knowledge, or 6family schema0, that enables us to recognize the nature of a re-uest based upon rank and familiarity, and signalled in part by reference and register. Importance has also been clearly attached to the notion of loss and gain. *ut what is being lost and what does gramma wish to gainJ 7ne of the first things we notice in the title of the poem is the repetition of the word way, suggesting perhaps a differentiated meaning. Githin the poem, the word ways occurs three more times (), &, )%. The first two references concern the ability to 6talk indian0 and 6skin a rabbit0. In the third stanza, we learn that these ways are teachable or learnable. *y implication, a special kind of knowledge e$ists which is passed on from one generation to the ne$tH a cycle is suggested. Two places are described by <orth /un in 6the way [ the way things are05 the city (8:, )8 and the reser!ation ()'. " language user0s knowledge of city life, for e$ample, will in!ol!e the application again of certain schematic constraints, i.e., a 6city schema0 may be acti!ated, and could easily include houses, cars and clothes. To city=dwellers, this might be the most accessible element in the discourse. The reser!ation, howe!er, is a far different placeH there, people do things with their hands, like skin rabbits. It is also the place where the way now e$ists, as something lasting and enduring, and represented by the presence of the grandmother, 6still on the reser!ation0, who is succeeded in the cycle of generations by her daughters, and in turn by their children. *eyond this basic information, howe!er, few R/1 learners could be e$pected to ha!e more than passing knowledge about 8ndian life in @orth AmericaH it is more likely, in fact, that they possess a certain amount of Hollywood misinformation about Indians. Bore rele!ant information, then, would describe the grandmother0s time, and the time of her ancestors when there was no di!ision between life 6on the reser!ation0, and life 6in the city0, when children, or grandchildren did not mo!e away, and where the social status of the grandmother no doubt remained high, and would not find her asking strangers for a return of what was lost. An #"e&"ie! Ge might now apply the !arious stylistic procedures and strategies to the object of the grandmother0s re-uestH she asks only for one thing5 tobacco. In the first stanza, it is this asking that the grandchildren 6don0t understand0. If tobacco, 6lany of a genus of plants nati!e to tropical "merica, widely culti!ated for its lea!es...0 ("merican Heritage 3ictionary of the Rnglish 1anguage were an idea or concept, this lack of understanding might fitH after all, asking for tobacco isn0t so difficult to imagine. +oncepts and ideas might be, howe!er, If tobacco were merely the 6ldried lea!es, used primarily for smoking...0 then we should find a different au$iliary than don’t == the negati!e modal can (q not, referring to ability, would fit the more literal interpretation. R!en the use of the objecti!e case pronoun me suggests that it is gramma herself who is misunderstood, not simply a word. /uch a misunderstanding implies a misunderstood illocutionary act. If this asking has illocutionary !alue, then we may infer that this !alue is, in fact, what has been lost5 i.e., the way, or ways. It follows that ha!ing lost this way, one is entitled to ask for its return == especially one who has stood for it for so long. There is other historical and cultural e!idence to affirm the strong symbolic !alue of tobacco as it occurs in the poem. *efore messengers could deli!er news from one tribe to another, a sacred pipe was passedH only then could the message be accepted as true. Ghen this so=called peace pipe was e$tended as well to the white men of the continent, it followed that they too were telling the truth. "nd the burning of tobacco (6the dried lea!es used primarily for smoking0 is e-ually telling5 the pipe of clay (Rarth releases the smoke which ascends upward (Hea!en. Thus, a great unity is symbolized as well == a unity that indicates humankind0s connection to not only this earth, but beyond to this way of being, of continuing. ?or /imon 7rtiz, another contemporary <ati!e "merican writer, this is a fre-uent theme5 6*ecause Indians always tell a story. The only way to continue is to tell a story and there is no other way. ]our children will not sur!i!e unless you tell something about them == how they were born, how they came to this certain place, how they continued0 (7rtiz, 8@;:. C)lt)&e 'nd C)lt)&'l Ci's /uch culturally specific information as the special significance of tobacco must, of course, be recognized and anticipated. Howe!er, many of the conte$tual conditions that contribute to the work of /earle, Grice and others operate 6within a specific cultural and ethnographic frame0 (+andlin, 8@&858;8 and will not, therefore, apply across cultures. Aan 3ijk and Fintsch comment5 61anguage users interact as members of a specific culture, as participants in social situations, as well as at an interpersonal, pragmatic le!el, and each le!el has associated with it a !ariety of con!entionalized discourse types and schematic constraints...0 (8@&%5)%&. In fact, it might be the lack of an ade-uate 6poetic schema0 that keeps many language teachers from approaching the medium more freely. Howe!er, poetry as song (according to /nyder0s definition is uni!ersal and an integral part of story telling, and the entire oral tradition of literature. This is a pan=cultural fact, and perhaps a !ery good place to begin an introduction to poetry. C#ncl)si#n The use of poetry at all le!els of language learning re-uires the careful grading and selection of poems both in terms of difficulty and accessibility (see 2i!ers [ Temperly, 8@;&H BcFay, 8@&)H +hristison, 8@&). It is suggested here that the 6ordinary language0 of much contemporary poetry be considered in that selection. 7ther researchers ha!e demonstrated a !ariety of acti!ities that connect poetry and language and the communicati!e classroom (see #reston, 8@&)H +andlin [ /hort, 8@&'. *y looking at a single piece of literary discourse, we hope to see how the meaning of a poem must be sought at !arious le!els. The significance of indi!idual components depends upon the ability to percei!e their communicati!e !alue, and this !alue is something that can only be ac-uired in conte$t, by looking at a poem in this case in the entirety of its associati!e meanings. "s such, it can be instructi!e to learners as well, and it has the added ad!antage of (usually being short, authentic and complete. /uch a stylistic analysis indicates that R/1= R?1 learners can ha!e e!en greater access to understanding discourse in general, and literature in particular, by obser!ing closely how meaning arises according to use. Reerences "ustin, I. 1. (8@:), How to 3o Things with Gords, <ew ]ork5 7$ford Qni!ersity #ress. *artlett, ?red +. (8@%), 2emembering, +ambridge5 +ambridge Qni!ersity #ress. 3e *eaugrande, 2obert="lain, and 3ressier, Golfgang (8@&8, Introduction to Te$t 1inguistics, <ew ]ork5 1ongman. *rown, Gillian and ]ule, George (8@&%, 3iscourse "nalysis, +ambridge5 +ambridge Qni!ersity #ress. *rown, H. 3ouglas (8@&4, #rinciples of 1anguage 1earning5 Theory and #ractice, Rnglewood +liffs5 #rentice=Hall. +andlin, +. <. (8@&8, u3iscoursal #atterning and the R-ualizing of Interpreti!e 7pportunityu, In Rnglish for +ross=+ultural +ommunication, 1arry /mith (ed., 1ondon5 Bacmillan. +andlin, +hristopher <. and /hort, Bichael (8@&', uTeaching /tudy /kills for Rnglish 1iteratureu, Banuscript. +elce=Burcia, Barianne and 1arsen=?reeman, 3iane (8@&%, The Grammar *ook, 2owley, Bassachusetts5 <ewbury House. +hing, Bar!inH Haley, Bichael and 1unsford 2onald (eds. (8@&4, 1inguistic #erspecti!es on 1iterature, 1ondon5 2outledge [ Fegan #aul. +hristison, Bary, Rnglish Through #oetry, /an ?ransicso5 "lemany #ress. Aan 3ijk, Teun ". and Fintsch, Galter (8@&%, /trategies of 3iscourse +omprehension, <ew ]ork5 "cademic #ress. ?owler, 2oger (8@&8, 1iterature as /ocial 3iscourse, 1ondon5 *atsford. Gilroy=/cott, <eil (8@&%, uIntroductionu, in Teaching 1iterature 7!erseas5 1anguage=based "pproaches, +. I. *rumfit (ed., 8=:. 7$ford5 #ergamon. Goodman, Fenneth /. (8@:;, u2eading5 " #sycholinguistic Guessing Gameu, in Iournal of the 2eading /pecialist, :5 8):=%K. Grice, H. #. (8@;K, u1ogic and +on!ersationu, in /ynta$ and /emantics %5 /peech "cts, +ole [ Borgan (eds, <ew ]ork5 "cademic #ress. Halliday, B. ". F.H Bcintosh, "ngus and /tre!ens, #eter (8@:', The 1inguistic /ciences and 1anguage Teaching, *loomington5 Indiana Qni!esity #ress. Halliday, B. ". F. and Hassan, 2. (8@;:, +ohesion in Rngish, 1ondon5 1ongman. 1eech, Geoffrey <. (8@:@, " 1inguistic Guide to Rnglish #oetry, 1ondon5 1ongman. 1e!inson, /. (8@;@, u"cti!ity Types and 1anguageu, in 1inguistics, 8;5 %:K=@@. Bckay, /andra (8@&), u1iterature in the R/1 +lassroomu, TR/71 Xuarterly, 8:('5 K)@=%:. <orth/un, <ila (8@;@, uthe way [ the way things areu, in " Geography of #oets5 "n "nthology of the <ew #oetry, Rdward ?ield (ed., <ew ]ork5 *antum. 7rtiz, /imon (8@;:, Going for the 2ain, <ew ]ork5 Harper [ 2ow. #ratt, Bary 1ouise (8@;;, Toward a /peech "ct Theory of 1iterary 3iscourse, *loomington5 Indiana Qni!ersity #ress. #reston, Gilliam (8@&), u#oetry Ideas in teaching 1iterature and Griting to ?oreign /tudentsu, TR/71 Xuarterly, 8:('5 '&@=K4). 2i!ers, Gilga B. and Temperly, Bary /. (8@;&, a #ractical Guide to the Teaching of Rnglish as a /econd or ?oreign 1anguage. <ew ]ork5 7$ford Qni!ersity #ress. 2umelhart, 3a!id (8@&4, u/chemata5 The *uilding *lock of +ognitionu, in Theoretical Issues in 2eading +omprehension, 2. I. /piro, *. *ruce and G. *rewer (eds., %%=K&, Hillsdale, <ew Iersey5 1awrence Rribaum. /earle, I. (8@:K, uGhat is a /peech "ctJu in 1anguage and /ocial +onte$t, #ier #aolo Giglioli (ed., 8%:=K', Biddlese$5 #enguin. /hort, Bichael (8@&%, u/tylistics and the Teaching of 1iteratureu, in Teaching 1iterature 7!erseas5 1anguage=based "pproaches, +. I. *rumfit (ed., :;=&', 7$ford5 #ergamon. /mith, ?rank (8@;%, #sycholinguistics and 2eading, <ew ]ork5 Holt, 2inehart and Ginston. /nyder, Gary (8@K;, Rarth House Hold, <ew ]ork5 <ew 3irections. /ridhar, /. <. (8@&), u<on=nati!e Rnglish 1iteratures5 +onte$t and 2ele!anceu, in The 7ther Tongue5 Rnglish across +ultures, *raj Fachru (ed., Qrbana5 Qni!ersity of Illinois #ress. Tierney, 2obert and Bosenthal, Iames (8@&), u3iscourse +omprehension and #roduction5 "nalyzing Te$t /tructure and +ohesionu, in 2eader Beets "uthorL*ridging the Gap5 " #sycholinguistic and /ociolinguistic #erspecti!e, I. 1anger and B. T. /mith=*urke (eds., KK=84', <ewark, 3elaware5 International 2eading "ssociation. Turner, G. G. (8@;%, /tylistics, Biddlese$5 #enguin. Giddowson, H. G. (8@;K, /tylistics and the Teaching of 1iterature, 1ondon5 1ongman. oooo (8@;&, Teaching 1anguage as +ommunication, 1ondon5 7$ford Qni!ersity #ress. oooo (8@;@, R$plorations in "pplied 1inguistics, 1ondon5 7$ford Qni!ersity #ress. oooo (8@&), uThe Qses of 1iteratureu, in 7n TR/71 u&8, Gashington, 3+5 TR/71. oooo (8@&%, 1anguage #urpose and 1anguage Qse. 1ondon5 7$ford Qni!ersity #ress S'm$les #+ St(listic An'l(sis #+ P&#se P'ss'e 8. By dad had a small insurance agency in <ewport. He had mo!ed there because his sister had married old <ewport money and was a big wheel in the #reser!ation /ociety. "t fifteen I0m an orphan, and Aic mo!es in. ,?rom now on you0ll do as I tell you,. he says. It impressed me. Aic had ne!er really shown any muscle before. (<.T. The first person singular pronouns indicate that we deal either with the entrusted narrati!e or with the personage0s uttered monologue. The communicati!e situation is highly informal. The !ocabulary includes not only standard collo-uial words and e$pressions such as 6dad0, 6to show muscle0 (which is based on metonymy, the intensifying 6really0, but also the substandard metaphor ( 6a big wheel0. The latter also indicates the lack of respect of the speaker towards his aunt, which is further sustained by his metonymical -ualification of her husband (6old <ewport money0. The synta$, too, participates in con!eying the atmosphere of collo-uial informality == sentences are predominantly short. /tructures are either simple or, e!en when consisting of two clauses, offer the least complicated cases of subordination. The change of tenses registers changes in the chronology of narrated e!ents. Rspecially conspicuous is the introduction of #resent Indefinite (/imple Tense, which creates the effect of immediacy and nearness of some particular moment, which, in its turn, signifies the importance of this e!ent, thus foregrounding it, bringing it into the limelight == and making it the logical and emotional centre of the discourse. ). He had heard e!erything the *oy said howe!er = was waiting for the right moment to wrap up his silence, roll it into a weapon and hit Batty o!er the head with it. He did so now. (G.G8. In this short e$tract from G. Golding0s 3arkness Aisible the appearance of a person who was an unnoticed witness to a con!ersation is described. The une$pectedness of his emergence is identified with the blow in the sustained metaphor which consists of three indi!idual !erb metaphors showing stages of an aggressi!e action. The abrupt change of sentence length and structure contributes to the e$pressi!eness of the passage. %. "nd out of the -uiet it came to "bramo!ici that the battle was o!er, it had left him ali!eH it had been a battle = a battlee ]ou know where people go out and push little buttons and pull little triggers and figure out targets and aim with the intention to kill, to tear your guts, to blow out r our brains, to put great ragged holes in the body you0!e been taking care of and feeding and washing all your life, holes out of which your blood comes pouring, more blood than you e!er could wash off, hold back, stop with all the bandages in the worlde (/t.H. Here we deal with the change of the type of narration5 from the author0s narrati!e, starting the paragraph, to represented inner speech of the character. The transition tells on the !ocabulary which becomes more collo-uial (cf. 6guts0 and more emotional (cf. the hyperbole 6all the bandages in the world0H on the synta$ brimming with parallelismsH on tne punctuation passing on to the emphatic points of e$clamation and dashesH on the morphology. 6<a•!e0 periphrases are used to describe the act of firing and its deadly effect Third person pronouns gi!e way to the second person (6you0, 6your0 embracing both communicants == the personage (author and the reader, establishing close links between them, in!ol!ing the reader into the feelings and sentiments of the character. Aery important is repetition. *esides syntactical repetition (parallelism mentioned abo!e, pay attention to the repetition of 6battle0, because it is this word which on one hand, actually marks the shift from one type of narration to another (the first 6battle0 bringing in the author0s !oice, the last two == that of "bramo!ici. 7n the other hand, the repetition creates continuity and cohesion and allows the two !oices merge, making the transition smooth and almost imperceptible. '. 6This is Gillie /tark, gents. ?rom up home at Bason +ity. Be and Gillie was in school together. ]eah, and Gillie, he was a bookworm, and he was teacher0s pet. Guzn0t you, GillieJ0 "nd "le$ nudged the teacher0s pet in the ribs. (2.G. "le$0s little speech gi!es a fair characteristic of the speaker. The substandard 6gents0, collo-uial 6me0, irregularities of grammar (6me and Gillie was0, pronunciation (graphon 6wuzn0t0, synta$ (6Gillie, he was0, abundance of set phrases (6he was a bookworm0, 6he was a teacher0s pet0, 6from up home0 == all this shows the low educational and cultural le!el of the speaker. It is !ery important that such a man introduces the beginning politician to his future !oters and followers. In this way 2. #. Garren stresses the gap between the aspiring and ambitious, but !ery common and run=of=the=mill young man starting on his political career, and the false and ruthless e$perienced politician in the end of this road. <ote the author0s ironic attitude towards the young /tark which is seen from the periphrastic nomination of the protagonist (6teacher0s pet0 in the author0s final remark. K. ?rom that day on, thundering trains loomed in his dreams == hurtling, sleek, black monsters whose stack pipes belched gobs of serpentine smoke, whose seething firebo$es coughed out clouds of pink sparks, whose pushing pistons sprayed jets of hissing steam == panting trains that roared yammeringly o!er farflung, gleaming rails only to come to limp and con!ulsi!e halts == long, fearful trains that were hauled brutally forward by red=eyed locomoti!es that you lo!ed watching as they (and you trembling crashed past (and you longing to run but finding your feet strangely glued to the ground. (Gr. This paragraph from 2ichard Gright is a description into which the character0s !oice is gradually introduced first through the second person pronoun you, later also graphically and syntactically == through the so=called embedded sentences, which e$plicitly describe the personage0s emotions. The paragraph is dominated by the sustained metaphor 6trains0 9 6monsters0. Rach clause of this long (the length of this one sentence, constituting a whole paragraph, is o!er @4 words structure contains its own !erb=metaphors 6belched0, 6coughed out0, 6sprayed0, etc., metaphorical epithets contributing to the image of the monster ( 6thundering0, 6hurtling0, 6seething0, 6pushing0, 6hissing0, etc. Their participial form also helps to con!ey the effect of dynamic motion. The latter is inseparable from the deafening noise, and besides 6roared0, 6thundering0, 6hissing0, there is onomatopoeic 6yammeringly0. The paragraph abounds in epithets == single (e.g. 6serpentine smoke0, pairs (e.g. 6farflung, gleaming rails0, strings (6hurtling, sleek, black monsters0, e$pressed not only by the traditional adjecti!es and participles but also by -ualitati!e ad!erbs (6brutally0, 6yammeringly0. Bany epithets, as it was mentioned before, are metaphorical, included into the formation of the sustained metaphor. The latter, besides the de!eloped central image of the monstrous train, consists of at least two minor ones ( 6red=eyed locomoti!es0, 6limp and con!ulsi!e halts0. The synta$ of the sentence=paragraph shows se!eral groups of parallel constructions, reinforced by !arious types of repetitions (morphological == of the =ing=suffi$, caused by the use of ele!en participlesH anaphoric == of 6whose0H thematic == of the word 6train0. "ll the parallelisms and repetitions create a definitely percei!ed rhythm of the passage which adds to the general effect of dynamic motion. Taken together, the abundance of !erbs and !erbals denoting fast and noisy action, ha!ing a negati!e connotation, of onomatopoeic words, of repetitions == all of these phonetic, morphological, le$ical and syntactical means create a threatening and formidable image, which both frightens and fascinates the protagonist. S'm$le An'l(sis #+ N#"el M(th#l#( 'nd hist#&(% ' st(listic 'n'l(sis #+ The L#&d #+ the Rins In their essay, 6Tom /hippey0s I. 2. 2. Tolkien5 "uthor of the +entury and a 1ook back at Tolkien +riticism since 8@&)0, Bichael 3. +. 3rout and Hilary Gynne argue that the 6biggest failing in Tolkien criticism ... is its lack of discussion of Tolkien0s style, his sentence=le!el writing, his word choice and synta$0 (8)%. The irony of this situation lies in the conte$t, in the e$tent to which formalist and aesthetic methodologies of literary criticism ha!e gi!en way in the last few decades to the percei!ed dominance of what 3rout and Gynne call the methodology of 6political e$egesis0. 3espite the downplaying of aesthetics in contemporary literary studies, modernist and post=modernist critics still tend to base their dismissal of Tolkien0s work as unworthy of study on his supposedly 6poor writing0 (8)%. "s 3rout has argued in 6Tolkien0s #rose /tyle and its 1iterary and 2hetorical Rffects0, the result of Tolkienists ignoring the -uestion of style 6has had the unfortunate effect of ceding important ground to Tolkien0s detractors, who, with simple, unanalyzed -uotations, point to some word or turn of phrase and, in essence, sniff that such is not the stuff of good literature0 (8%;. The e$isting stylistic or applied linguistic scholarship on Tolkien0s no!el is limited, although there is a strong sub=field of Tolkien linguists who study Tolkien0s in!ented languages. 1inguistic methodology co!ers a range of approaches, from intensely specialized philological work on the de!elopment of modern Rnglish from 7ld Rnglish, to a focus on the meanings of words (historical or contemporary. Bost Tolkien linguists are primarily interested in the in!ented languages, but literature scholars with an interest in rhetoric, semiotics, or other linguistic theories and fields ha!e published scholarship on Tolkien0s style of writing, primarily but not e$clusi!ely on The Lord of the Rings. The stylistic scholarship consists primarily of monographs by Aerlyn ?lieger, *rian 2osebury, and Tom /hippey. (8 " handful of articles ha!e also been published, ranging from *urton 2affel0s dismissal of The Lord of the Rings as not being literature to the more useful linguistic work of Rlizabeth Firk and 3rout on Tolkien0s style that draw similar conclusions about what 3rout calls the 6appropriateness, elegance and power0 (8)' of Tolkien0s stylistic choices. () 7ne reason for the persistent stylistic gap in Tolkien scholarship may be found in the historical episode that /hippey describes in The 2oad to Biddle=earth5 the 1it and 1ang battle that took place in "merican and *ritish uni!ersities during the years between the two Gorld Gars (:=&, )'=;. "s faculty members in languages, Tolkien and /hippey participated in this conflict but tailed to shape the literature curriculum to include philology or linguistics, whether historical or contemporary, and to institutionalize the language study of "nglo /a$on as part of the re-uired curriculum. The curricular principle that won focuses literary studies on publications from /hakespeare forward, that is, te$ts produced in modern Rnglish. The 1it and 1ang battle resulted in literature and literary study becoming a separate discipline from linguistics during much of the twentieth century. "s a conse-uence, the majority of academics trained in literary study during most of the )4th century did not recei!e any training in linguistics. The decision not to teach any systemic methodology of analyzing style to those who would become professional literary critics has a direct bearing on the pre!ailing scholarly e!aluation of Tolkien0s work by most modernists and post= modernists. Ghile claiming to analyze style, most seem to be instead responding to a type of subject matter or genre deemed by Bodernism to be unworthy of serious literary treatment. (% /tylistics, the application of linguistic theories to literary te$ts, howe!er, does e$ist as one approach among many in literary studies and has, in recent years, begun to grow, especially with the ad!ent of computer programs to assist in data collection and analysis. The earliest and best=known argument for stylistics was made in 8@&: by 2oger ?owler who argues the need for literary scholars to draw upon linguistics for a systemic methodology and for theoretical support to a!oid an assumption of the discipline of literature that has ne!er been pro!en5 that the language, the style of writing, used in those te$ts identified as literary by literature faculty is somehow special and bears no relation to ordinary language. /ince linguistics as a discipline does not 6!alue0 any sub=set of a language, spoken or written, as more worthy of study than any other, stylistics as a method can be used to analyze any te$t, fiction, non=fiction or poetic. Qsing the methodology to analyze the work of I. 2. 2. Tolkien is not only appropriate, gi!en his own philological and linguistic background, but can also ser!e a dual purpose5 first, interpreting his te$t by a method seldom used, and, second, creating an argument for the e$istence of a range of aesthetic effects in the often=dismissed work. 7ur focus in this essay is to analyze the style of three sections of The Lord of the Rings5 a brief history co!ering centuries of legend and history, a moment of contemplation beside a sacred body of water and a military charge. (' These e$cerpts are starkly different in subject matter, narrati!e function and tone. <e!ertheless, our analysis re!eals certain striking similarities in the grammar that shows how the discourses of mythology and history are blended in Biddle=earth. Bythology and history are often constructed as discourses which e$ist in opposition to each other, but we argue that, in Tolkien0s work, they are part of a comple$ continuum in the no!el and unobtrusi!ely connect the no!el to The /ilmarillion, a collection of myths and legends 6written0 well before the no!el but published (in different editionsL!ariants only after Tolkien0s death. (K 7ur focus is on two of the few !oices in the no!el that can speak with authority of the mythological and historical periods from before the no!el0s narrated e!ents during the time at the end of the Third "ge5 Rlrond0s and the narrati!e persona0s. The first of our three passages comes from *ook Two, +hapter II, 6The +ouncil of Rlrond0, and is a two=paragraph e$cerpt from one of Rlrond0s speeches (beginning 6In the <orth after the war0, and ending 6when the world was young0 ()''. This e$cerpt comes from a long speech co!ering the history of the 2ings of #owerH the 1ast "lliance of Rl!es and BenH the aftermath of the *attle of 3agorlad, including Isildur0s fall after claiming the 7ne 2ingH and the history of the kingdoms of Ben, "mor and Gondor, o!er the inter!ening centuries. 3uring the course of this historical lecture, Rlrond tells ?rodo and the +ouncil that his 6memory reaches back e!en to the Rlder 3ays0 and that he has seen three ages (at least three millennia pass in Biddle=earth ()'). The 1ord of the 2ings is set during the final days of the Third "ge and show the beginning of the ?ourth "ge of Biddle=earth. "ppendi$ " and * pro!ide chronologies showing the depth of time that Rlrond0s life and memory encompass. He shares this information with the members of the +ouncil who ha!e neither li!ed through nor heard stories about the earlier days and the e!ents which ha!e led to the problem that they now face. The second passage is a scene from *ook Two, +hapter IA, 61othlorien0 and consists of eight paragraphs (starting 6The +ompany, now went down the road0 and ending 6/am was too deep in thought to answer0 (%%%='. This e$cerpt describes a -uiet moment after the great trials and losses in Boria. Gandalf has fallen, and the +ompany must not stop until they can reach the woods of 1orien where there is some hope of safety. Gimli demands a moment to see the Birrormere, howe!er, and asks that ?rodo accompany him. "ragorn agrees, and /am follows them to the pool. This scene combines a lyrical and transcendent moment in which the characters seem to step outside of time as they look into a deep mountain pool in broad daylight to see a group of stars, 3urin0s crown. Gimli shares a prophecy with them5 The +rown of 3urin will lie in the Birrormere until 3urin himself 6wakes0 (%%'. This scene, taking place in the present time of the no!el, allows for a glimpse back into the ?irst "ge, the origin of the line of 3war!en Fings ("ppendi$ ", 84;@ when 3urin the 3eathless first ruled. 1ittle information is gi!en in The Lord of the Rings about the 3war!es, so there is little e$isting scholarship, but this scene, easily o!erlooked, is a small, deep look at the mythological past of the 3war!es. (: The third passage is from *ook ?i!e, +hapter A, 6The 2ide of the 2ohirrim0 and consists of the last four paragraphs of the chapter (starting from 6Then suddenly Berry felt it at last0 and ending with 6the sound of their singing that was fair and terrible came e!en to the +ity0 (&%;=&. This scene is the clima$ of the chapter and a pi!otal episode in the *attle of the #elennor ?ields. Theoden refuses to gi!e in to despair and leads the charge of the 2ohirrim to the relief of Binas Tirith despite seeing that the odds are tremendously against them. In fact, Berry, whose point of !iew is adopted in the scenes with the 2ohirrim, fears that despair will lead the Fing to turn back from his sworn defense of Gondor. Instead, Theoden chooses to set aside despair and ride to Gondor0s aid, and he transcends the present moment, becoming like 6a god of old, e!en as 7rome the Great in the battle of the Aalar when the world was young0 (&%&. The battles of the Aalar with Borgoth took place in the ?irst "ge. In the first e$cerpt, Rlrond foregrounds his knowledge for the +ouncil, the information ser!ing an important e$pository function. The other two passages are related by the omniscient narratorus !oice which can take readers into the charactersu indi!idual perspecti!es and, in effect, out of them again. The narrator does not choose to stop the action of the narrati!e to pro!ide background on the creation and history of the 3war!es, such as it is, or to gi!e information on the battle of the Aalar. Gimli0s dialogue in the second e$cerpt pro!ides some information for ?rodo and /am, and for readers, that frames the e$perience, but /am is unable to say what it is they ha!e e$periencedH the e!ent cannot be directly e$plained. In the final e$cerpt, there is no mediating character. R!en though the passage starts in Berry0s point of !iew, it soon mo!es outside of him into the !oice of the narrator, the only persona who knew of 7rome the Hunter and could see and narrate Theoden0s and /nowmane0s resemblance to the Aalar in the youth of the world. The best methodology for analyzing these comple$ aesthetic effects is a linguistic one, a system outside literary studies that was created for close analytical work with te$ts. 7ur methodology is drawn from B. ". F. Halliday0s e$tensi!e work on functional grammar, which differs from traditional prescripti!e grammar in that it is descripti!e and it offers a much more comple$ schema to work with. This grammar employs a systemic model which can be used to analyze any te$t, on any le!el (word, phrase and clause le!els, and which generates -uantitati!e data. The system uses a few traditional terms but relies primarily upon its own e$tensi!e terminology, especially for !erbs (called processes which are di!ided into si$ categories, three major and three minor. 7ur analysis focuses primarily on the clause le!el5 we consider ThemeB &ub4ect relationships and the type of processes. Ghile the categories seem clear=cut, in tact, many processes in Rnglish do not easily fit into a single category, and, in a stylistic analysis, especially of a literary te$t, it is possible to argue accurately that a process functions in a specific clause in a way that fits more than one category at the same time. /tylistics generates -uantitati!e data, but it is an interpreti!e, not a mechanical, process. 7ur analysis focuses on the effect of marked patterns in our two chosen grammatical elements5 ThemeB&ub4ect and processes. In linguistic terms, the normal or standard usage is called 6unmarked0H it is the default. If a non=typical usage, called 6marked0, occurs fre-uently, it may be significant enough to consider further in an interpreti!e process. " ThemeB&ub4ect analysis focuses on the word groups at the beginning of clausesH the unmarked pattern in standard Rnglish is for the &ub4ect to be the starting point of a clause, labelled as the Theme. Ghen an element other than the &ub4ect starts a clause, it is considered marked and worth analyzing, especially if the element is more than a conjunction. " process analysis focuses on the categories of processes (!erbs. Ghat follows is the annotated te$t from our three e$cerpts, broken into clauses, with each clause (not each sentence numbered, we break out both dependent and independent clauses for our data collection. /tylistic analysis on the sentence le!el is not usually done because the sentence is an artifact of writing (beginning with a capital letter, closed with an end punctuation mark and can consist of a single e$clamation or a dozen clauses (independent and dependent. The basic le!el for linguistic analysis is the clause, although it is possible to mo!e below, to analyze words or phrases, and abo!e, to analyze clause comple$es and relationships between clauses. The annotation of the te$t reflects our data analysis5 The unmarked Themes which ser!e as the Grammatical /ubjects are underlined. " THRBR that is not a grammatical subject is indicated by capital letters. The /ubjects which are marked (i.e. are not the Themes of their clauses are indicated in italics. Theme 'nd S)01ect An'l(sis 6The +ouncil of Rlrond0 8. I< THR <72TH "?TR2 THR G"2 "<3 THR /1"QGHTR2 7? THR G1"33R< ?IR13/ the men of !esternesse were diminished, ). "<3 their city of Annuminas beside 1ake R!endim fell into ruinH %. "<3 the heirs of %alandil remo!ed and dwelt at ?ornost on the high <orth 3owns, '. "<3 that V/ornost on the high @orth DownsW now too is desolate. K. .en call it h?ornost on the high <orth 3ownsi 3eadmen0s 3ike, :. "<3 they fear to tread there. ;. ?72 the folk of Arnor dwindled, &. "<3 their foes de!oured them, @. "<3 their lordship passed, lea!ing only green mounds in the grassy bills. 84. I< THR /7QTH the realm of Gondor long enduredH 88. "<3 ?72 " GHI1R its splendor grew, hits splendori recalling somewhat of the might of <umenor, R2R it h<umenori fell. 8). HIGHT7GR2/ that people built, 8%. "<3 hthey builti strong places, 8'. "<3 hthey builti ha!ens of many ships5 8K. "<3 the winged crown of the ,ings of .en was held in awe by folk of many tongues. 8:* Their chief city was 7sgiliath, +itadel of the /tars, 8;. TH27QGH THR BI3/T 7? GHI+H h?sgiliathi the River flowed. 8&. "<3 BI<"/ ITHI1 they built, hBinas Ithil means thei Tower of the 2ising Boon, hBI<"/ ITHI1 was built by the Fings of Beni eastward upon a shoulder of the mountains of /hadowH 8@. "<3 GR/TG"23 "T THR ?RRT 7? THR GHITR B7Q<T"I</ Binas "nor they made, hBinas "nor means thei Tower of the /etting /un. )4. THR2R I< THR +7Q2T/ 7? THR FI<G grew a white tree, hThe white tree grewi from the seed of that tree which Isildur brought o!er the deep waters, )8. "<3 the seed of that tree before came from Rressea, )). "<3 *R?72R TH"T hthe seed of that tree before camei out of the Qttermost Gest in the 3ay before days when the world was young. Total Themes and /ubjects5 )& Barked )% Qnmarked K "lthough there are twenty=two independent clauses in this e$cerpt, there are si$ more unstated subjectsLthemes embedded in dependent clauses hindicated in the te$t abo!e by being marked off by s-uare bracketsi. These unstated elements are included in our count. 7f the twenty=eight clauses, fi!e are unmarked, meaning that the Theme and /ubject are the same noun phrase. 7f the twenty=three marked clauses, fourteen ha!e primarily the conjunction 6and0 before the /ubject. The use of a coordinating conjunction as a Theme is not particularly significant in written Rnglish although this hea!y usage of a coordinating conjunction and the resultant parallelism in multiple clauses, often grouped in one sentence, is a stylistic feature of this speech worth noting on its own. It is one often used by Tolkien. In this e$cerpt, Rlrond is speaking of the fates of the two kingdoms established by Rlendil and his sons after the 1ast *attle. In the <orth, "rnor diminished o!er timeH in the /outh, Gondor flourished, and the strong parallelism of the sections can be easily seen in the clauses below. The dwindling of the <orthern kingdom is described in clauses that diminish in length, whereas Gondor, where the Ghite Tree grew, does not diminish. The length and structure of the clauses describing the Ghite +ity is more comple$. The parallelism in the last section of the e$cerpt concerning Gondor is less marked, and the clauses are longer, pro!iding more information and emphasizing the more direct connection to <umenor (the earliest kingdom of Ben, gi!en to se!eral families who fought alongside the Rl!es against Borgoth. "rnor "<3 their city of "nnuminas beside 1ake R!endim fell into ruin5 "<3 the heirs of Aalandil remo!ed and dwelt at ?ornost on the high <orth 3owns, "<3 that h?ornost on the high <orth 3ownsi now too is desolate. Ben call it h?ornost on the high <orth 3ownsi 3eadmenus 3ike, "<3 they fear to tread there. ?72 the folk of "rnor dwindled, "<3 their foes de!oured them, "<3 their lordship passed, lea!ing only green mounds in the grassy hills. Gondor "<3 hthey builti strong places, "<3 hthey builti ha!ens of many shipsH "<3 the winged crown of the Fings of Ben was held in awe by folk of many tongues. "<3 Binas Ithil they built.... "<3 GR/TG"23 "T THR ?RRT 7? THR GHITR B7Q<T"I</ Binas "nor they made, hBinas "nor means thei Tower of the /etting /un. THR2R I< THR +7Q2T/ 7?Ž THR FI<G grew a white tree .... "<3 the seed of that tree before came from Rressea. "<3 before that hthe seed of that tree before camei out of the Qttermost Gest in the 3ay before days when the world was young. The list below identifies the Barked Themes consisting of more than a conjunction plus their /ubjects for each section, with clause numbers indicated on the left (reflecting the numbering of the clauses in the annotated te$t. Mar6ed Themes Mar6ed Sub:ect 1/ 'n the North ater the war and the men o 5esternesse the slaughter o the =ladden !ields 2/ And their city o Annunimas beside La6e 2&endim ,/ And the heirs o +alandil 3/ And that J!ornost on the high North )ownsK 0/ And they 1/ !or the ol6 or Arnor </ And their oes >/ And their lordship 10/ 'n the South the realm o =ondor 11/ And or a while itLs Athe realm o =ondor- splendor 12/ 4igh towers that people 1,/ And Jthey builtK 13/ And Jthey buildK 1./ And the winged crown o the $ings o Men 11/ Through the midst o which the *i&er J"sgiliathK 1</ And Minas 'thil they 1>/ And westward at the eet o they Athe people o =ondor- the 5hite Mountains 20/ There in the courts o the $ing a white tree 21/ And the seed o that tree 22 And beore that Jthe seed o that tree " number of the marked themes in Rlrond0s speech emphasize geographical location (<orthL/outh, westward towards the feet of the Ghite Bountains, as well as specific settings (Gladden ?ields, High towers, court of the Fing. The marked subjects focus primarily on the refugees from <umenor, the kingdoms of Gondor, but finally, at the end, upon the Ghite Tree. Rlrond is narrating e!ents so lost in the past that most of the characters at the +ouncil, other than Rl!es, might consider them myth or legend. He is speaking from memory and pro!iding his interpretation of the histories of "rnor and Gondor, emphasizing the stronger tie the latter had with <umenor in the presence of the Ghite Tree which has a lineage that is rooted in the ?irst "ge. 61othlorien0 8. The +ompany now went down the road from the Gates. ). It hthe roadi was rough and broken, fading to a winding track between heather and whin that thrust amid the cracking stones. %. *QT /TI11 it could be seen '. TH"T 7<+R 17<G "G7 a great pa!en way had wound upwards from the lowlands of the 3warf=kingdom. K. I< #1"+R/ there were ruined works of stone beside the path, and mounds of green topped with slender birches, or fir=trees sighing in the wind. :. "n eastward bend led them hard by the sward of Birrormere, ;. "<3 there not far from the roadside stood a single column broken at the top. &. That is 3urin0s /toney @. +2IR3 Gimli. 84. 6I cannot pass by without turning aside for a moment to look at the wonder of the dale0. 88. 6h]oui *e swift thene0 8). "ragorn said, looking back towards the Gates. 8%. The /un sinks early. 8'. The 7rcs will not, maybe, come out till after dusk, 8K. *QT we must be far away before nightfall. 8:. The Boon is almost spent, 8;. "<3 it will be dark tonight. 8&. 6h]oui +ome with me, ?rodoe0 8@. +2IR3 the dwarf, springing from the road. )4. 6I would not ha!e you go without seeing Fheled=zaram0. )8. He ran down the long green slope. )). ?rodo followed slowly, drawn by the still blue water in spite of hurt and wearinessH )%. /am came up behind. )'. *R/I3R THR /T"<3I<G /T7<R Gimli halted and looked up. )K. It hthe standing stonei was cracked and weather=worn, ):. "<3 the faint runes upon its side could not be read. );. 6This pillar marks the spot )&. GHR2R 3urin first looked in the Birrormere,0 )@. /"I3 the dwarf. %4. 61RT us look oursel!es once, ere we goe0 %8. They stooped o!er the dark water. %). "T ?I2/T they could see nothing. %%. THR< /17G1] they saw the forms of the encircling mountains mirrored in a profound blue, %'. "<3 the peaks were like plumes of white flame abo!e themH %K. *R]7<3 hTHR #R"F/i there was a space of sky. %:. THR2R 1IFR IRGR1/ /Q<F I< THR 3RR# shone glinting stars, %;. TH7QGH sunlight was in the sky abo!e. %&. 7? THRI2 7G< /T77#I<G ?72B/ no shadow could be seen. %@. 67 FHR1R3=s"2"B ?"I2 "<3 G7<3R2?Q1e0 said Gimli. '4. There lies the +rown of 3urin '8. TI11 he wakes. '). ?arewelleu '%. He bowed, and turned away, and hastened back up the greensward to the road again. n "n e$clamation, or !ocati!e, not a clause, but ser!ing as the Theme for the sentence. Total Themes and /ubjects5 '% B"2FR3 <arrator 8% 3ialogue K Q<B"2FR3 <arrator @ 3ialogue 88 n3ialogue TagsLR$clamations K Mar6ed Themes Mar6ed Sub:ects ,/ But still it Adummy sub:ect- 3/ That once long ago a great pa&en way ./ 'n places there Awor6s o stoneCmounds o green- 1/ And there not ar rom the roadside 1./ But we 11/ And it Adummy sub:ect- 23/ Beside the standing stone =imli 20/ And the aint runes 2</ 5here Apillar mar6s the spot- )urin ,2/ At irst they ,3/ And the pea6s ,,/ Then slowly they ,./ Beyond Jthe pea6sK there Aa space o s6y- ,0/ There li6e :ewels sun6 in glinting stars the deep ,1/ Thought sunlight ,</ " their own stooping orms no shadow ,>/ " $heledDFaram air and =imli Athe spea6er- wonderul M 31/ Till he J)urinK In the Birrormere e$cerpt, 8&, or ')•, of the Themes are marked. ?our of the Themes which appear marked are not because they are dialogue tagsH one is the e$clamation, 6?arewell0. 3ialogue tags (6said the dwarf0 or 6cried Gimli0 are clauses, but their informational function (identifying the speaker is the most important functionH dialogue tags are not meant to be noticed, so whether the speaker or the !erb comes first is not particularly significant. Thus, they are e$cluded from our final count. The marked or non=standard, Themes and /ubjects in the Birrormere passage focus attention upon two aspects of the no!el, both of which are similar to the marked Themes and /ubjects in Rlrond0s speech5 first, upon the long=distant past through references to time and place, an historic past when the 3war!en kingdom built and maintained roads and standing stones which ha!e become ruins. The second element is the crown of 3urin, an artifact seen in the !ision that Gimli, ?rodo, and /am see in the deep waters of the pool. The +rown of 3urin is a symbol for 3war!en rule, just as the Ghite Tree of Gondor is for Ben. The majority of marked Themes and /ubject occur in the clauses which describe the !ision5 %)= %@, clauses in which the comple$ synta$ pri!ilege the mountains, sky and stars o!er the bodies present (6of their own stooping forms no shadow could be seen0. The characters who are present fail to make a mark upon the landscapeH their reflections do not mark the pool. The clause structure directs the readers0 focus, as well as the characters0, to the mythological and historical past. ,The 2ide of the 2ohirrim. 8. THR< /Q33R<1] Berry felt it at last, beyond doubt5 a change. ). Gind was in his facee %. 1ight was glimmering. '. ?"2, ?"2 "G"], I< THR /7QTH the clouds could be dimly seen as remote grey shapes, rolling up, drilling5 K. morning lay beyond them. :. *QT "T TH"T /"BR B7BR<T there was a flash. ;. "/ I? lightning had sprung from the earth beneath the +ity. &. ?72 " /R"2I<G /R+7<3 it hthe +ityi stood dazzling far off in black and white, its topmost tower like a glittering needleH @. "<3 THR< "/ the darkness closed again 84. there came rolling o!er the fields a great boom. 88. "T THR /7Q<3 the bent shape of the king sprang suddenly erect. 8). T"11 "<3 #27Q3 he seemed againH 8%. "<3 2I/I<G I< HI/ /TI22Q#/ he cried in a loud !oice, more clear than any there had heard a mortal man achie!e before. 8'. h]oui "rise, arise. 2iders of Theodene 8K. ?ell deeds awake5 fire and slaughtere 8:. spear shall be shaken, 8;. shield hshalli be splintered, 8&. " /G723=3"], " 2R3 3"], ere the sun risese 8@. h]oui 2ide now, ride nowe )4. h]oui 2ide to Gondore )4. GITH TH"T he seized a great horn from Guthlaf his banner=bearer, )8. "<3 he blew such a blast upon it hthe horni )). TH"T it hthe horn burst asunder. )%. "<3 /T2"IGHT"G"] all the horns in the host were lifted up in music, )'. "<3 the blowing of the horns of 2ohan in that hour was like a storm upon the plain and a thunder in the mountains. )K. h]oui 2ide now, ride nowe h]oui 2ide to Gondore ):. /Q33R<1] the king cried to /nowmane );. "<3 the horse sprang away. )&. *RHI<3 HIB his banner blew in the wind, white horse upon a field of green, )@. *QT he outpaced it. %4. "?TR2 HIB thundered the knights of his house, %8. *QT he was e!er before them. %). Romer rode there, the white horsetail on his helm floating in his speed, %%. "<3 the front of the first eored roared like a breaker foaming to the shore, %'. *QT Theoden could not be o!ertaken. %K. ?R] he seemed, %:. 72 the battle=fury of his fathers ran like new fire in his !eins, %;. "<3 he was borne upon /nowmane like a god of old, %&. RAR< "/ 7rome the Great hwas borne by his horsei in the battle of the Aalar %@. GHR< the world was young. '4. His golden shield was unco!ered '8. "<3 17e It hhis golden shieldi shone like an image of the /un, '). "<3 the grass flamed into green about the white feet of his steed. '%. ?72 morning came, ''. morning and a wind from the sea hcameiH 'K. "<3 darkness was remo!ed, ':. "<3 the hosts of Bordor wailed, ';. "<3 terror took them, '&. "<3 they fled, '@. "<3 htheyi died. K4. "<3 the hoofs of wrath rode o!er them. K8. "<3 THR< all the host of 2ohan burst into song, K). "<3 they hall the host of 2ohani sang K%. "/ they hall the host of 2ohani slew, K'. ?72 the joy of battle was on them, KK. "<3 the sound of their singing that was fair and terrible came e!en to the +ity. Total Themes and /ubjects5 KK B"2FR3 <arrator '8 3ialogueL/ong 8 Q<B"2FR3 <arrator ; 3ialogueL/ong : In this e$cerpt, ') (;:•, of the ThemesL/ubjects are marked but to an entirely different effect than in the two pre!ious e$cerpts. The final two sentences of this e$cerpt, using the conjunctions to create a strong sense of parallelism, mirror to some e$tent the grammar in Rlrondus speech e!en though the focus is the charge of the 2ohirrim. Rach sentence is a clause comple$ consisting of multiple clauses (eight in the first sentence, fi!e in the second, all but one beginning with a coordinating conjunction. *elow is a list of the Barked Themes and /ubjects in this passage5 Mar6ed Themes: Mar6ed Sub:ects 1/ Then suddenly Merry 3/ !ar7 ar away in the South the clouds 0/ But at that same moment there Aa lash- 1/ As i lightning </ !or a searing second it Jthe CityK >/ And then as the dar6ness 11/ At the sound the bent shape o the 6ing 12/ Tall and proud he Jthe 6ingK 1,/ And rising in his stirrups he Jthe 6ingK 11/ JSongK: A swordDday7 a red day the sun 20/ 5ith that he Jthe 6ingK 21/ And he Jthe 6ingK 22/ That it Jthe hornKJ 2,/ And straightaway all the horns in the host 23/ And the blowing o the horns o *ohan in that hour 20/ Suddenly the 6ing 2</ Behind him his banner 2>/ But he ,0/ Ater him the 6nights o his house ,, And the ront o the eored ,3/ But Theoden ,./ !ey he Jthe 6ingK ,0/ "r the battleDury o his athers ,1/ And he Jthe 6ingK ,</ 2&en as "rome the =reat ,>/ 5hen the world 31/ And loN it Jhis golden shieldK 3, !or morning 32/ And the grass 33/ And dar6ness 3./ And the hosts o Mordor 30/ And terror 31/ And they Jhosts o MordorK 3</ And JtheyK 3>/ And the hoos o wrath .0/ And then all the hosts o *ohan .1/ And they Jall the hosts o *ohanK .2/ As they ,,/ !or the :oy o battle ,3/ And the sound o their singing that was air and terrible The marked Themes, e$cept for the conjunctions, tend to focus either on the time of the narrated e!ents or upon Theoden, with the e$ception of clause %& (,7rome the Great.. The narrati!e necessity of showing a number of complicated actions all occurring more or less simultaneously is the reason for the number of Themes dealing with narrati!e time. Bore is happening simultaneously in this !ery compressed narrati!e mo!ement than in the passage at Rlrond0s +ouncil and the Birrormere. Berry, Theoden, and the 2iders see the city as the wind clears, a wind which is bearing the ships taken by "ragorn to the city, while the 2ohirrim see and hear the flash created by Gandalf confronting the Gitch Fing at the broken gate. The Fing0s refusal to despair is followed by the description of the charge. The marked Themes and /ubjects in this section tend to focus primarily upon the present moment rather than the historic or mythological past, which is con!eyed in other elements of the clauses, and are thus unlike the marked Themes and /ubjects of the first two scenes. The final two sentences of this e$cerpt, using the conjunctions to create a strong sense of parallism, mirrors to some e$tent the grammar in Rlrond0s speech e!en though the focus is the charge of the 2ohirrim. Rach sentence is a clause comple$ consisting of multiple clauses (eight in the first sentence, fi!e in the second, all but one beginning with a coordinating conjunction. '%. ?or morning came, ''. morning and a wind from the sea hcameiH 'K. and darkness was remo!ed, ':. and the hosts of Bordor wailed, ';. and terror took them, '&. and they fled. '@. and htheyi died, K4. and the hoofs of wrath rode o!er them. K8. "nd then all the host of 2ohan burst into song, K). and they sang K%. as they slew, K'. for the joy of battle was on them, KK. and the sound of their singing that was fair and terrible came e!en to the +ity. The introductory clause (?or morning came is followed by a series of simple clauses (primarily subject followed by a !erb, joined by coordinating conjunctions (nine ands, one for and one subordinating conjunction. The majority of the first thirty clauses focus on the FingH this final sentence shows the influence of his transformation on his men, a transformation that is likened to the ride of 7rome in the mythological past. P&#cess An'l(sis There are three main categories of processes in Halliday0s system5 material, mental and relational. There are three more minor categories of processes which e$ist, as Halliday says, on the boundaries of the major categories5 beha!ioural, !erbal and e$istential. (; There is a minor and se!enth sub=category, the meteorological, ha!ing to do with natural processes concerning weather5 ,7n this borderline between the e$istential and the material there is a special category of processes to do with the weather. R$amples are such clauses as5 it0s raining, the wind0s blowing, there0s going to be a storm. (8'%=''. 7ur analysis of Tolkien0s prose shows that his narrati!e persona tends to describe astronomical phenomenon in clauses that are structured in the same way as meteorological processes. The mythology of Biddle=earth, including the stories about the creation of the stars and then the Two Trees, the story of how their light was destroyed by Borgoth and Qngoliant, and the subse-uent creation of the /un and Boon, pro!ide symbolic elements to astronomical bodies whose light is associated with the good. The significance of the meteorological processes can be understood when the clauses are recast as a mental process which would focus "gency upon a character percei!ing the natural world5 6They saw the glinting stars shining like jewels sunk in the deep0. The grammar in the original clause remo!es the /enser (they to focus the reader0s attention on the #henomenon, the stars, first through a simile (6There like jewels sunk in the deep ... glinting stars0. There are other astronomical clauses in the two e$cerpts5 6The moon is almost spent, and it will be dark tonight0H 6the peaks were like plumes of white flame abo!e themH beyond hthe peaksi there was a space of sky0H 6though sunlight was in the sky abo!e0H 6darkness was remo!ed0H 6for morning came, morning and a wind from the sea0H and one clause that operates both materially and meteorologically in the comparison of Theoden0s shield which 6shone like an image of the /unJ0 The data from our process analysis of the three e$cerpts is summarized below5 Material Beha&ioral Mental +erbal M *elational 2lrond 1> 2 1 < A0,O- A1O- A3O- A20O- Mirrormere 13 3 11 0 0 A,2O- A2.O- *ohirrim ,1 1 , . A.2O- 2;istential Meterological 2lrond ,0 Mirrormere 1, 0 33 A1,O- *ohirrim 1 1 .> A12O- M 'n this conte;t7 &erbal reers to &erbs o spea6ing7 singing7 etc/ and includes dialogue tags as well as speech acts such as singing7 wailing7 etc// The strong predominance of material processes (:%• in Rlrond0s speech is the result of his focus on summarizing the past actions of the men of GesternesseH there are no reports of their speech, no omniscient narrati!e reporting of thoughts or emotions. This e$cerpt focuses upon the past, a history that is the foundation of the e!ents in the present of The Lord of the Rings. Howe!er, this past is not accessible to the majority of characters, or first time readers of the book, so it is framed as myth and legend and related by a figure of authority, who has information unknown to e!en *oromir and "ragorn, the descendents of the men of Gesternesse. In the second passage, material processes are apparent in the description of the company0s situation after the harrowing journey through the Bines of Boria, losing Gandalf to the *alrog. They come into daylight, weary and wounded, knowing that 7rcs will be pursuing them, but they halt a moment for Gimli to !isit Fheled=zaram. He in!ites ?rodo but not the others, although /am follows them. The Birrormere is a natural part of the landscape that re!eals spiritual powers and depth, connecting the present of the narrati!e to the mythological part of the 3war!es, to 3urin0s +rown. It is one of se!eral natural locations that connect ?rodo to the natural theology and the mythological past of Biddle=earth. The e$cerpt is almost e!enly di!ided between the narrator0s !oice and character dialogue, with Gimli being the primary speaker. Thirty=two percent of the processes are material, describing e!ents in the world, although there are some important mental and meteorological processes as well5 )K• of the processes are mental and 8%• meteorological. The majority of clauses feature the /ubject as the Theme which is the unmarked choice in RnglishH the section (clauses %)=%& which breaks that pattern is noticeably also the one in which the most meteorological processes occur. Here, the characters look into the water to percei!e a spiritual or mythological reality that has little do with the waking worldH the meteorological processes blend the material and the spiritual realms through the imagery of the stars and light. The other processes in this section, which are primarily mental (seeing and relational (to be !erbs or e$istential (such as there were, focus attention on elements of the natural world, re!ealed slowly as a natural world not completely in the present of the narrati!e. The characters see the mountains and the sky reflected in the Birrormere, but neither the sunlight of the day they walk in, nor their own images, are seen in the water. The reflection of the stars is described in a clause with synta$ marked by in!ersion5 ŽThere like jewels in the deep shone glinting stars.Ž The standard clause structure in Rnglish clauses is /ubjectLAerbL7bject. The sentence abo!e can be recast in the standard structure5 Glinting stars shone like jewels in the deep. The standard structure would employ a material process5 6shone0. The in!ersion creates an e$istential process and delays our understanding of what the grammatical subject and "ctorL"gent of the clause is until the end5 the stars. The e$cerpt on the 2ohirrim is different in tone and function5 It is, on the surface, a decisi!e action, a charge, which marks a climactic moment of eucatastrope when, beyond all hope and at the last moment, the 2iders of the Bark come to Binas Tirith. "lthough it is oriented towards action, with K)• of clauses being material processes, there are important !erbal and meteorological processes that add layers to the action, re!ealing mythological power. These processes occur most notably in the comparisons between the 2ohirrim and the natural world, for e$ample the horns 6like a storm upon the plain and a thunder in the mountains0, the eored 6roared like a breaker foaming to the shore0, the grass 6flaming0 into green under /nowmane0s feet, and the comparison of Theoden to 7rome, the Huntsman of the Aalar. The clauses in the section (%K=') are primarily relational, rather than material, although the majority of processes in the preceding clauses describing the horns blowing and the charge are material. The clauses also shift to a passi!e structure5 6he was borne upon /nowmane like a god of 7ld, L e!en as 7rome the Great hwas borne by his horsei in the battle of the Aalar when the world was young0 (compared to 6He rode /nowmane like a god of 7ld, e!en as 7rome the Great rode his horse in the battle of the Aalar when the world was young0. Ghile the use of passi!e structure typically acts to remo!e or suppress "gency, in this case, the passi!e structure in combination with the simile seems to confer a greater sense of "gency upon TheodenH howe!er, the "gency is spiritual rather than material. "nother kind of in!ersion occurs in the first part of this passage. The pronoun comes before the noun it references5 6Then suddenly, Berry felt it at last, beyond doubt5 a change0. Berry is the point=of=!iew character in this scene, but his perspecti!e is soon left behind as the narrati!e perspecti!e opens up, becoming more generalized through the use of a structure which suppresses the e$periencer in fa!our of the e$perience. /ample clauses showing the opening up include5 6Gind was in his face0, not 6He felt the wind in his face0H 61ight was glimmering0, not, 6he saw light glimmering0H 6clouds ... could be dimly seen0, not, 6he could dimly see clouds0H 6there was a flash0H not, 6he saw a flash0H 6there came rolling o!er the fields a great boom0, not, 6he heard a great boom rolling o!er the fields0. The natural elements and the sound of Grond are the Theme of these clauses, foregrounded by being placed in the typical /ubject position, which results in the effect of them ha!ing agency in the e$istential processes. The double use of there as an empty subject contributes to suppressing Berry0s perspecti!e and keeping readers in suspense if they do not remember the e!ents in the last chapter when the boom is first described as the sound of Grond striking the gates of Binas Tirith. C#ncl)si#ns 7ur primary focus in our Theme and /ubject and process analyses is to show how, in three brief e$cerpts of the no!el, the discourses of mythology and history are constructed grammatically and are blended. Gith the e$ception of Rlrond0s speech, the specific myths and histories referenced are not e$plained in the main narrati!e of the no!el. /ome information about the Ghite Trees is gi!en in "ppendi$ ", I, 84'@, 84:4H some about 3urin in "ppendi$ ", Ill, 84;8H and some about "rawL 7rome, on page 84K8. Howe!er, that information is sketchy compared to the more fully de!eloped materials in The /ilmarillion. 7ne result of our analysis is that it supports Aerlyn ?lieger0s argument that while 6The /ilmarillion can be fully understood without reference to The Lord of the Rings, ... the re!erse is not the case0 ($$ii. 6Qnderstanding0 refers not only to the background or history of references in the no!el but the e$tent to which Tolkien incorporated knowledge of the earlier material into The Lord of the Rings, in part through the !oices of the Rl!es, particularly Rlrond, and through the narrati!e persona which, although different in many ways from the narrati!e personae of The /ilmarillion, was created by the same author and which partakes of the knowledge the author has of the e$tensi!e underpinnings of the myths and histories of Biddle=earth. ?urther work on other passages and on e$cerpts from The &ilmarillion needs to be done on the comple$ layering of myths and histories in the te$t, not only in the construction of the narrati!e !oice and the framing elements, but in the oral transmission of the past in dialogue between characters. The Lord of the Rings is a comple$ te$t that operates on many discourse le!els. Ghen it was first published, readers, critics, and scholars had no direct access to the rich materials that now make up Tolkien0s 1egendarium, but the no!el hints at their e$istence in a myriad of ways, not only in the #rologue and "ppendices, but in the e$tensi!e references made by multiple characters and the narrati!e persona throughout the main narrati!e. 7ur analysis of how two !oices which represent perspecti!es that know the mythological and historic past ages of Biddle=earth in ways that the majority of characters do not know (and in ways that no first time readers can know supports arguments made by scholars that Tolkien0s prose style has been neglected or dismissed unfairly, that the metaphysical elements of Tolkien0s 1egendarium are considerably deeper and richer than e$isting scholarship has yet considered. If critics can mo!e away from the assumption that a Bodernist aesthetic of a single, indi!idualistic and 6original0 style is the only good style to acknowledge the !alue of what Rlizabeth Firk and Tom /hippey argue is an aesthetic choice to incorporate multiple styles and registers and languages, then the possibilities for further stylistic analysis increase. Gorks +ited "nderson, <eil. ŽThe 3urable 3urins.Ž "mon Hen 8): (8@@'5 84=8). #rint. "rmstrong, Helen. Ž"nd Ha!e an Rye to that 3warf.Ž "mon Hen 8'K (8@@;5 8%=8'. #rint. 3rout, Bichael 3.+. ŽTolkienus #rose /tyle and its 1iterary and 2hetorical Rffects.Ž Tolkien /tudies 8 ()44'5 8%;=:). #rint. 3rout, Bichael 3.+., and Hilary Gynne. ŽTom /hippeyus I. 2. 2. Tolkien5 "uthor of the +entury and a 1ook *ack at Tolkien +riticism /ince 8@&).Ž Rn!oi @.) (?all )4445 848=:;. #rint. ?lieger, Aerlyn. /plintered 1ight5 1ogos and 1anguage in Tolkienus Gorld, 2e!. ed., Fent, 7H5 Fent /tate Q#, )44). #rint. ?owler, 2oger. 1inguistic +riticism. 7$ford5 7$ford Q #, 8@@:. #rint. ?unk, 3a!id. ". ŽR$plorations Into the #syche of 3war!es.Ž Bythlore )8 (8@@: %%4=%%. #rint. Halliday, B.".F. "n Introduction to ?unctional Grammar. )nd ed. 7$ford5 7$ford Q#, 8@@'. #rint. Firk, Rlizabeth 3. ŽuI Gould Ha!e 2ather Gritten in Rl!ishu5 1anguage, ?iction and uThe 1ord of the 2ings.uŽ <o!el5 " ?orum on ?iction K (8@;85 K=8&. #rint. 1ewis, "le$. ŽGere 3war!es AegetariansJŽ "mon Hen 88; (8@@)5 )K=);. #rint. Badsen, +atherine. Ž1ight from an In!isible 1amp5 <atural 2eligion in The 1ord of the 2ings.Ž Bythlore K% (8@&&5 '%=';. #rint. Burphy, #aul. ŽThe 3war!es in the ?ourth "ge.Ž "mon Hen :; (8@&'5 ;=&. #rint. /hippey, Tom. I. 2. 2. Tolkien.Ž "uthor of the +entury. <ew ]ork5 Houghton Bifflin, )444. #rint. ==. The 2oad to Biddle=Rarth5 How I. 2. 2. Tolkien +reated a <ew Bythology, <ew ]ork5 Houghton Bifflin, )44%. #rint. Tolkien, I. 2. 2. The 1ord of the 2ings. <ew ]ork5 Houghton Bifflin, )44'. #rint. ==. The /ilmarillion. Rd. +hristopher Tolkien. <ew ]ork5 Houghton Bifflin, )44'. #rint. ==. The 1etters of I. 2. 2. Tolkien. Rd. Humphrey +arpenter. <ew ]ork5 Houghton Bifflin, 8@@K. #rint. <otes (8 The Inkling she claims to be more neglected by contemporary scholars than others, ?lieger analyzes for re!ised sentence reading5 6In /plintered 1ight, ?lieger draws on the linguistic theories of 7wn *arfield to analyze how Tolkien was affected by *arfieldus theory of semantic unity0. ?lieger analyzes how Tolkien was affected by his theory of semantic unity5 "ccording to *arfield, poetry, myth, and knowledge are con!eyed through language. 1anguage, especially comple$ and long words, embodies and combines mythology and metaphor rather than the literal and metaphorical meanings being artificially separated. 3rawing on *arfieldus work, ?lieger does a semantic analysis of Tolkien0s language, in!ented languages, and imagery of light and dark in The /ilmarillion. <ot as clearly linguistic in methodology, *rian 2osebury0s 8@@) monograph, Tolkien5 " +ritical "ssessment, still makes a strong argument for Tolkien0s work to be analyzed both in terms of its aesthetics and its placement within Twentieth +entury literary traditions. Buch of 2osebury0s work is an e$tended analysis of multiple e$cerpts from the te$t. In both The 2oad to Biddle=Rarth and The "uthor of the +entury, Tom /hippey incorporates philological and linguistic methodology, including a close reading of different registers in the +ouncil of Rlrond, an e$amination of the role speech plays in characterization, and an analysis of the 7ld Rnglish roots of Tolkienus names. /hippey0s linguistic approach is more philological than functional, and part of his argument criticizes the lack of knowledge of the history and de!elopment of the Rnglish language shown by critics who ha!e negati!ely commented on Tolkien0s style. () The 8@;8 essay by Rlizabeth Firk, ,0I Gould 2ather Ha!e Gritten in Rl!ish05 1anguage, ?iction, and 6The 1ord of the 2ings0,. makes a comple$ and linguistically oriented argument concerning the methods and purpose of Tolkienus style. " medie!alist, Firk argues against assuming that the Bodernist aesthetic which e!aluates highly indi!idualistic and particular styles as good must be uni!ersally applied. The post=2omantic pri!ileging of the concept of original, identifying as good the 6style which drags the reader out of his habitual deri!ati!e consciousness and makes him participate in a new one0, sets apart literary style as that which is both different from and superior to the styleL!oices of ordinary men. Tolkien is stri!ing for an entirely different effect, argues Firk, in working to create a 6communal consciousness0 which he achie!es by not only setting disparate styles and registers against each other, but by pro!iding retellings of the same e!ent in different styles, creating a style which Firk claims is 6as different from the epic as it is from the no!el0 (84. Firk0s theory of Tolkienus use of counterpoint achie!ed by ju$taposing different styles and registers is supported by my analysis in this paper, in which the two e$cerpts under study ha!e different tones, registers, and styles, especially in the narrati!e sections of the e$cerpts. +losest to my use of Halliday0s grammar in this essay is Bichael 3. +. 3routus essay on a comparati!e analysis of stylistic choices, using functional grammar. The two passages 3rout works with are Rowyn0s battle with the <azgul and 3enethor0s suicide. 3rout analyzes parallels with the style of /hakespeare0s Fing 1ear, using linguistic methodology to analyze the comparati!e aesthetics of the authors. (% The majority of Tolkien scholarship published during the last fifty years has been by medie!alists, another ine!itable outcome, since they, unlike specialists in other periods, recei!e training in "nglo /a$on and other languages and are familiar with the medie!al te$ts that Tolkien drew on. (' There are many editions of The 1ord of the 2ings a!ailable. ?or this essay, we are using the one=!olume K4th anni!ersary edition published in )44'. (K Tolkien wished to publish the collection of legends, myths, and histories co!ering the ?irst and /econd "ges of Biddle=earth and sent a !ersion to his publisher when a se-uel to The Hobbit was re-uested. He was turned down, and he was unable to persuade Qnwin and "llen or an "merican publisher to include The /ilmarillion with The 1ord of the 2ings. The "ppendices are a compromise (1etters, 1etter ˆ8%8 To Bilton Galdman. Tolkien continued to work on the !arious !ersions until he died. His son, +hristopher Tolkien, edited the materials to be published first as The /ilmarillion and then in The *ook of 1ost Tales and in !arious forms in the 8)=!olume History of Biddle=Rarth series. (: 3a!id ". ?unk0s essay, 6R$plorations into the #syche of 3war!es0, Bythlore )8 (8@@:5 %%4=%%, analyzes Tolkien0s characterization of 3war!es and their narrati!e and symbolic importance in the no!el, supported by e!idence from The /ilmarillion. <eil /. "nderson0s essay, 6The 3urable 3urins0, "mon Hen 8): (8@@'5 84=8), is historical in nature, focusing on dating the reigns of the si$ kings named 3urin, arguing that each king ruled during a time of great catastrophe and change, primarily during the ?irst and /econd "ges. #aul Burphy, 6The 3war!es in the ?ourth "ge0, "mon Hen :; (8@&'5 ;= &, argues the possibility that in the ?ourth "ge, the 3war!es did not die but withdrew into Fhazad=dumH another by "le$ 1ewis, 6Gere 3war!es AegetariansJ0, "mon Hen 88;5 )K=);, speculates on the necessity for 3war!en !egetarianism while li!ing in ca!erns, the choice being pragmatic rather than philosophical or moral. Helen "rmstrong0s 6"nd Ha!e an Rye to That 3warf0, "mon Hen 8'K (8@@;5 8%=8', discusses the influence of the 2omano=*ritish temple at 1ydney #ark (dedicated to the god <odens, the subject of one of Tolkienus philological essays, on the entrance to Boria. (; These e$amples are drawn from Halliday5 Baterial5 Happening (being createdH +reating, +hanging, 3oing (to, "cting. 3oing words, with "ctorLGoal. #assi!e !oice is significant because mo!ement of acti!e +omplement to passi!e /ubject position. Bental5 /eeing, ?eeling, Thinking (think, know, feel, smell, hear, see, want, like, heat, pleas, disgust, admire, enjoy, fear, frighten. 2elational5 Ha!ing attributeH ha!ing identity, symbolizing. Typically realized by the !erb be or some !erb of the same class (seem, become, appear, sometimes ha!e, own, possess. *eha!ioural5 *eha!ing. Ha!ing attributes of both material and mental. " personus beha!iour can be related to thought, emotion, other mental states. Aerbal5 /aying. "ll dialogue but also reported speech, also relating to speech acts (urge, e$plain, remind, challenge, beg, promise, grumble, report. Aerbal processes are between relational and mental. R$istential5 R$isting, Two main forms of realization5 I. There were ten of us in the party 72 ). Ten of us were in the party. (?rom5 B. ". F. Halliday, "n Introduction to ?unctional Grammar h7$ford5 7$ford Q#, )44'i. Robin Anne Reid Stylistic Analysis o The Great Gatsby ro$ Le%ical and 0ra$$atical Category Piang=i Liu<ingdao Ini+ersity o Science and Technology3 <ingdao3 ChinaE Abstract k The article tries to adopt the method used by 1eech and /hort in their book &tyle in /iction to make a relati!ely o!erall and objecti!e analysis of the no!el0s language from le$ical and grammatical +ategory. "s far as the le$ical features are concerned, the author employs special le$ical items and le$ical clusters. The le$ical de!iation and word connotations are mainly used for characterization and theme re!elation. In terms of the syntactical aspects, narrati!e sentence type and the contrast of registers are employed, and the author0s sentence endings with elaborate appositions and prepositional phrases pro!ide an effecti!e way to describe the surroundings and e!oke moods, ser!ing to generate suspense as well as to create interest and e$pectation on the part of the reader. Inde% Ter$s kle$ical category, adjecti!e, le$ical cluster, grammatical category, sentence structure, appositional phrase, prepositional phrase. /tylistic analysis is an attempt to find the artistic principles underlying a writer0s choice of language. Howe!er, as all te$ts ha!e their indi!idual -ualities, the linguistic features which recommend themsel!es to the attention in one te$t will not necessarily be important in another te$t by the same or a different author. Therefore, 1eech and /hort ()4445 ;'=&) propose a useful checklist of linguistic and stylistic categories which are placed under four general headings5 le$ical categories, grammatical categories, figures of speech, and cohesion and conte$t, each containing se!eral subcategories, and ine!itably with some o!erlapping. 1e$ical categories are used to find out how choice of words in!ol!es !arious types of meaning. They may contain a general description of !ocabulary choice, and e$aminations of nouns, adjecti!es, !erbs, ad!erbs, etc. Grammatical categories, on the other hand, probe into such branches as sentence types, sentence comple$ity, clause types, clause structure, noun or !erb phrases, word classes, and so on and so forth. This part of the chapter is de!oted to a general analysis of the stylistic features in ?itzgerald0s The Creat Catsby from the le$ical and grammatical category. I- LEPICAL CATE0OR1 A. "djecti!es. 7ne of the simplest yet most profound reasons The Creat Catsby is considered as an "merican classic is its use of language. ?itzgerald0s language is figurati!e, which is full of images == concrete !erbal pictures appealing to the senses, by the employment of adjecti!es. ?itzgerald fre-uently uses adjecti!es to create romantic sensation and !isualize the scene and hence heightens the theme. Her face was sad and lo!ely with bright things in it, bright eyes and a bright passionate mouth == but there was an e$citement in her !oice that men who had cared for her found difficult to forget5 a singing compulsion, a whispered ,1isten., a promise that she had done gay, e$citing things just a while since and that there were gay, e$citing things ho!ering in the ne$t hour (p. 8%. This sentence is densely sparked with adjecti!es. It is interesting that ?itzgerald often links adjecti!es that seem contradictory, e.g. sad and lovely. *ut this techni-ue !isualizes the character 3aisy, and the repetition of the ne$t adjecti!e ,bright. seems to imply that 3aisy is bright. Howe!er, the word ,sad. denies this by its meaningH thus the description gi!es us a suspicious impression. Gith ?itzgerald0s employment of adjecti!es and participles used as attributi!es, 3aisy0s !oice is sensate and hence, pa!es the way for Gatsby0s comment5 ,Her !oice is full of money.. The e$tensi!e use of adjecti!es in sentences like the abo!e ones helps to con!ey the author0s interpretation of the scene and is typical of ?itzgerald0s use of subjecti!e description. Here is another e$ample5 )ut his heart was in a constant, turbulent riot. The most grotesue and fantastic conceits haunted him in his bed at night* A universe of ineffable gaudiness spun itself out in his brain while the clock ticked on the wash<stand and the moon soaked wet light his tangled clothes upon the floor* 'ach night he added to the pattern of his fancies until drowsiness closed down upon some vivid scene with an oblivious embrace (p. 8%). There are altogether nine adjecti!es (constant, turbulent, grotes-ue, fantastic, ineffable, tangled, each, !i!id, and obli!ious in the passage, more than 84• of the total number. These adjecti!es are all attributi!es and ha!e nothing to do with physical attributes. The ,constant, turbulent riot. is the background of his dream and the adjecti!es ,grotes-ue, fantastic. modifying ,conceits. drop a hint that the dream is inaccessible. " description such as ,the moon soaked with wet light his tangled clothes. helps the reader to !isualize the scene in the manner ?itzgerald intends. The adjecti!e ,!i!id. make the scene more real but the adjecti!e ,obli!ious. works in an opposite way. These adjecti!es combine together to form a dreamy world where reality and illusion begin to blur. ,In the process of combining lyrical description with objecti!e circumstance he mastered the connections between themes and narration.. (#rigozy, )4485@K The automobile, ser!ing a function of showing wealth, has a !ery special meaning in The Creat Catsby. ,1ike all of Gatsby0s possessions, it is far more than a material objectH it is a sign of the pathetic mysti-ue which ser!es Gatsby == the representati!e of the "merican dream == as he worships a kind of ultimate !alue that far transcends any material object at all.. (+ooperman, 8@@:5 %' Gatsby0s ,gorgeous car. is described in details5 It was a rich cream color, bright with nickel, swollen here and there in its monstrous length with triumphant hat=bo$es and supper=bo$es and tool=bo$es, and terraced with a labyrinth of wind=shields that mirrored a dozen suns. /itting down behind many layers of glass in a sort of green leather conser!atory we started to town. (p. &K ?itzgerald relies on the style to e!oke a car appropriate for Gatsby. ,The car itself is described with an interesting series of adjecti!es == adjecti!es which communicate a sense not only of opulence, but of combined brittleness and softness, almost of decay.. (+ooperman, 8@@:5 %K Gith the characteristic use of the surprising adjecti!e in ,triumphant hat=bo$es., ?itzgerald actually implies that Gatsby takes pride in his automobile, as he does in all his possessionsH he is,triumphant. financially and socially. Howe!er, the fact that this car kills Byrtle later on shadows its triumph and causes the death of Gatsby indirectly. *esides, ?itzgerald uses carefully selected details of description to con!ey through each automobile the character and !ision of its owner. *esides his e$tensi!e use of adjecti!es, another prominent characteristic of ?itzgerald0s use of adjecti!es lies in his linkage of apparently incompatible nouns and adjecti!es to produce startling but thematically e!ocati!e effects and his pattern of linking adjecti!es that seem contradictory. ?or e$ample, the ,triumphant hat=bo$es. of Gatsby0s car and the ,blue gardens. of his parties, both suggest the magnificent but unreality of his !ision of self. "s theme is most dramatically e$pressed through character, ?itzgerald uses the people he created to con!ey his message to the reader. Ge can easily see how ?itzgerald uses such techni-ue to depict the characters in the no!el. Ghen <ick arri!es at the *uchanans for dinner, the three characters are described for the first time in terms that emphasize their physical presence. Here are <ick0s descriptions5 8t was a body capable of enormous leverage << a cruel body (p. 84. It is interesting that the ,body. is described as ,cruel. here, for normally ,cruel. is referred to a person and not to a body. ?itzgerald doesn0t describe that Tom is cruel but that his body is cruel, suggesting a separation between his body and himself, as if Tom0s cruel character may assert itself apart from his will. The other girl, Daisy *** she laughed, an absurd, charming little laugh, and 8 laughed too and came forward into the room (p. 8). The adjecti!e ,absurd. with the meaning of ,ridiculously incongruous or unreasonable. combines -ueerly with the adjecti!e ,charming. with the meaning ,attracting.. ,"bsurd. seems to imply that 3aisy0s life is aimless emptiness, it is e!en absurd when her laugh is charming. "nd the words ,an absurd, charming little laugh. suits her habit, which we will come to know, of gushing o!erstatement5 ,I0m paralyzed with happiness.. Bore or less, <ick hints that 3aisy0s manner may be crafty. Her grey sun= strained eyes back at me with polite reciprocal curiosity out of a wan, charming discontented face. (p.8K ,+harming discontented. is also an e$ample of the surprising pattern of linking adjecti!es that seems contradictory. "s we can see, when one is restlessly unhappy or discontented, how can hisLher face be charmingJ *ut this is the case, as Biss Iordan *aker is seen in this story as a person, who dealt in uni!ersal skepticism and is !ery uncertain about her own thoughts, mo!ements and feelings. ?itzgerald produces more elaborate writing with his use of adjecti!es, and the adjecti!es he used help present the illusionary aspect of Gatsby0s world. In a sense, ?itzgerald is !ery imaginati!e. *- Le%ical Clusters and &epiction o Three 'ain Characters "t the !ery beginning of the no!el, the narrator recalls the impression Gatsby makes on him, which sets the tone of the story5 7nly Gatsby, the man who gi!es his name to this book, was e$empt from my reaction == Gatsby, who represented e!ery thing for which I ha!e an unaffected scorn. If personality is an unbroken series of successful gestures, then there was something gorgeous about him, some heightened sensiti!ity to the promises of life, as if he were related to one of those intricate machines that register earth-uakes ten thousand miles away. This responsi!eness had nothing to do with that flabby impressionability which is dignified under the name of the ,creati!e temperament. == it was an e$traordinary gift for hope, a romantic readiness such as I ha!e ne!er found in any other person and which it is not likely I shall e!er find again. (p. & 1e$ically speaking, there are not a few abstract nouns commenting on Gatsby in this passage, many of which are modified by multi=syllabic adjecti!es, such as ,something gorgeous, heightened sensiti!ity, promises, responsi!eness, impressionability, temperament, e$traordinary gift for hope, romantic readiness.. This le$ical cluster, indicating personal -uality and temperament rather than outward appearance of Gatsby, leads our attention to the speech andthought of the character, and his dreamy inner world, rather than on the local realistic world of the no!el. The recurrence of a number of abstract nouns re!eals Gatsby0s idealistic aspect of personality, and sets up an illusi!e world, which he is eager to hold but in which there is nothing substantial. This seems to indicate that Gatsby0s ideal is unattainable and his "merican 3ream is doomed to corruption. Thus from the opening of the story, the narrator sets Gatsby0s idealistic and tragic image. +haracterization in The Creat Catsby is not a straightforward business since it is fre-uently de!eloped through nuance, through employment of suggesti!e words rather than re!ealed through objecti!e description. /ee the following rare e$ample that is used to describe Gatsby directly5 He smiled understandingly == much more than understandingly. It was one of those rare smiles with a -uality of eternal reassurance in it, that you may come across four or fi!e times in life. It faced == or seemed to face == the whole eternal world for an instant, and then concentrated on you with an irresistible prejudice in your fa!or (p. '@. It is supposed to be a description of Gatsby0s outward smile, but abstract words like ,eternal reassurance, eternal world, and irresistible prejudice. are still related to Gatsby0s personal temperament. ,Rternal reassurance and irresistible prejudice. together with ,concentrated. justify Gatsby0s understanding smile that is to be taken seriously and apparentlyreflect the purposefulness in Gatsby0s personality. *esides purposefulness and romantic idealism, Gatsby is also apersonification of features like wealth, ostentation, selfishness, materialism and criminality, some of which o!erlap withthose of other characters in the no!el. (+ooperman, 8@@:5 :4 *ut it is the polarization from others marked by wordsindicating romantic idealism that sets Gatsby apart from the other major characters in the no!el and constitutes theconstantly reiterated foundation of the narrator0s appro!al of him. Thus the author0s moral attitude is re!ealed throughhis use of le$ical clusters.In contrast to Gatsby0s romantic idealism is the leisure class0s emptiness, a case in point is the portrayal of Tom*uchanan, one of the major characters in the no!el, who together with 3aisy, his wife, is the prime representati!e of theupper society, symbolizing the corruption of the "merican 3ream. "nd this is apparent in the le$ical items used tocharacterize him.Gords that depict Tom include5 restlessness, physical strength, !irility, athleticism, dandyism, wealth, materialism,e$tra!agance, !ulgarity, possessi!eness, jealously, untrustworthiness, selfishness, carelessness, cruelty, physical!iolence, aggression, arrogance, cynicism, contemptuousness, insolence, prejudice, shallowness. Bany of these featuresare e$plicitly stated, or implied, in the two pages !ery early in the no!el which introduce Tom into the story. ?ore$ample, when <ick the narrator introduces the *uchanans, he first uses such words to introduce the reader to the kindof hedonistic lifestyle they lead5 ,drifted here and there unrestfully., (p. 88 ,I felt that Tom would drift on fore!erseeking, a little wistfully, for the dramatic turbulence of some irreco!erable football game.. (p. 8)Their li!es without purposes and the idea of the *uchanans0 mental or moral as well as physical rootlessness arecon!eyed through the use of le$ical items with the semantic meaning of restlessness.The narrator0s direct description of Tom is also focused on his unrestfulness. Ge all remember ?itzgerald0s physicaldescription of *uchanan == ,a great pack of muscle shifting when his shoulder mo!ed under his thin coat. (p. 8). "sthe narrator arri!es at his home, Tom talks to him on his porch, ,his eyes flashing about restlessly. (p. 8%. 1ater they go into the li!ing room, where he is described as ,ho!ering restlessly about the room. (p. 8K. Incidents and phrases amplify and dramatize these semantic features as the no!el progresses, picking up and highlighting what <ick sees as the crucial ones as he mo!es towards a judgment on Tom. /ome of the constituent features which define Tom occur in some other le$ical clusters, so Tom o!erlaps with 3aisyin other respects (handsomeness, selfishness, restlessness. They are all classified as purposeless, hopeless and spiritually dead. 1e$ical items with o!erlapping semantic features appear so fre-uently that they become a clue to a fuller understanding of all that happens5 they suggest the discontent and unfulfillment, the waste and frustration of energies, the lack of ideals, beliefs and goals which plagues e!eryone in the book. Thus, le$ical clusters with different semantic features, as a techni-ue for the analysis of the character, ser!e as the basis for the categorization of characters. II- 0RA''ATICAL CATE0OR1 A. "arrati+e Sentence Type In Rnglish, degrees of formality are indicated by linguistic features at phonological, le$ical and grammaticalLsyntactic le!els. ?itzgerald0s syntactic formality is greatly demonstrated through his relati!ely long narrati!e sentence type. "s a conse-uence, readers are likely to feel that ?itzgerald0s style of writing is rather more demanding and appears more formal. This formal and serious register, the comple$ity of which is !i!id in describing inner feelings and emotional changes, helps to highlight the narrator0s comple$ feelings towards his era5 his lament o!er the corruption of the "merican 3ream and the moral decadence, and his admiration for Gatsby0s romanticism and idealism. (+ooperman, 8@@:5 @: In spite of the comparati!ely high sentence=length a!erage, sentences in The Creat Catsby are not particular comple$ in the sense that we do not find many e$amples of clauses embedded inside other clauses. There is some subordination, but it would appear that most of the comple$ity in the e$tract occurs at phrasal le!el, and the dominant pattern of clauses in this e$tract would appear to be a series of main clauses coordinated together. ?or more detailed analysis of this syntactic te$ture, look at the following e$ample5 The groups change more swiftly, swell with new arrivals, dissolve and form in the same breathF already there are wanderers, confident girls who weave here and there among the stouter and more stable, become for a sharp, 4oyous moment the center of a group, and then, e(cited with triumph, glide on through the sea<change of faces and voices and color under the constantly changing light (p. '). This is the longest sentence (;' words in the description about Gatsby0s oncoming party, thus comparati!ely comple$. Howe!er e!en the longest sentence carries no loss of clarity5 its first clause is composed of four coordinated !erbs, and coordinated with it is a ,there. construction accompanied by an apposition. The apposition ,confident girls.is embedded with a defining clause, in which ,wea!e., ,become. and ,glide., three !erbs coordinate together. The syntactic analysis of the long sentence apparently shows the author0s preference for coordination o!er subordination. "s a conse-uence, the passage is reasonably easy to read, because it takes less mental effort for readers to unscramble clauses in coordination. 3ifferent sentence structures take on different thematic !alues and literary significance. In the sentence e$amined abo!e, the coordination of !erbs in alliance with their simple, or non=progressi!e aspect, helps to make the descriptionappear to mo!e -uickly from one group to the ne$t rather than dwell on particular moments for a long time, hence highlighting the atmosphere of chaos and mindlessness. *- Ise o Appositional Phrases 7n the le!el of plot, the sophisticated narrator seems to criticize the "merican 3ream, its illusions and e$cesses == herefers scornfully to Gatsby0s ,appalling sentimentality. (p. 84; and to the ,foul dust. that ,floated in the wake of his dreams. (p. &. *ut syntactically, in some of the most beautifully written and memorable lines of the no!el, <ick demonstrates not scorn but, rather, ready sympathy for Gatsby and for those ideological presuppositions that underlie Gatsby0s ambitions. <ick tells Gatsby0s story in a lyrical style. This lyricism is accomplished grammatically in the continuation of sentences seemingly reluctant to end. " representati!e of this syntactic feature is the appositional phrase,in which his sympathy for Gatsby0s ideological presupposition as well as his condemnation to aimless pursuit and capitalist aspiration is clearly seen. In <ick0s narrati!e, the first part of the sentences, sometimes just an independent clause, does the work of plot de!elopment, mo!ing the narrati!e forward in time and place and e!ent, but the second part == some drawn=out endings, often syntactically unnecessary == can go on to e!oke accumulations of romantic sensiti!ity == feelings or indefinite e$citements. These sentence endings fre-uently constructed with elaborate appositions culti!ate heightened sensation, and re!eal the romantic conceits and aspirations of these ambitious people. +onsider <ick0s account of Gatsby0s entry into his dream world5 ?or a while these re!eries pro!ided an outlet for his imaginationH they were a satisfactory hint of the unreality of reality, a promise that the rock of the world was founded securely on a fairy0s wing (pp. @K=@:. This sentence begins with a time=ad!erbial, establishing duration and ,re!eries. as what is being talked about. Then through a second=start ,they., it elaborates itself into apposition, which is syntactically unnecessary and surplus, but seemingly caused by sensiti!ity to words like ,imagination. and ,re!erie.. In the lush ending of the sentence occurs the ,fairy0s wing. that is connected directly to the embodiment of Gatsby0s dreaming, 3aisy *uchanan, whose maiden name is ?ay. <ick hereby con!eys a magical destiny to Gatsby0s ad!enture. "nother e$ample occurs when <ick describes Gatsby0s romantic e$citement as a young army officer when he first!iews 3aisy0s house5 There was a ripe mystery about it, a hint of bedrooms more beautiful and cool than other bedrooms, of gay and radiant acti!ities taking place through its corridors, and of romances that were not musty and laid away already in la!ender, but fresh and breathing and redolent of this year0s shining motor=cars and of dances whose flowers were scarcely withered (p. 8'8. These sentence endings sketch o!er ,beautiful bedrooms, radiant acti!ities, romances laid away in la!ender, shinningmotor=cars and flowers scarcely withered., all of which make up a world of wealth and possessions. R!erything contained in this appositi!e is suggesti!e, displaying the mystery as well as wealth that surround 3aisy, thus depicting her as a golden girl beyond Gatsby0s dream. The sentence0s surplus or e!en e$orbitance can carry across the sentence boundary, producing a !ariant on the appositional structure == the sentence fragment. In the no!el, <ick reflects on Gatsby0s statement of 3aisy0s !oice5 It was full of money == that was the ine$haustible charm that rose and fell in it, the jingle of it, the cymbals ,song ofitl. High in a white palace the king0s daughter, the golden girl l. ,(p. 88K. The double appositional construction, ,the jingle of it, the cymbals0 song of it., is in apposition to ,the ine$haustible charm that rose and fell in it.. This construction seems ine$haustible itself, endlessly responding to itself5 ellipses here seem to signify the sentence0s resistance to closure, suggesting that the sentence has no conclusion just like dream, once this syntactic resource and these wordings of romance are in play. Then the abundance of this appositional surplus spills o!er the receding sentence boundary in a syntactic fragment, and finally sets sight on the transformati!e goal5 ,High in a white palace the king0s daughter, the golden girl.. "ll these appositional structures seem like an imitation of Gatsby0s process of dream stri!ing and attaining. C- Ise o Prepositional Phrases "nother e$cellent use of syntactical features lies in ?itzgerald0s employment of prepositional phrases. #repositional phrases usually function as ad!erbials and hence are grammatically e$traneous == in other words, they could be mo!ed around the sentence or deleted altogether. *ut the fact that they are grammatically e$traneous does not mean that they are semantically e$traneous. 7n the contrary, the writer masterly uses prepositional phrases to con!ey much of the scene=setting and atmosphere of a te$t. +onsider the following passage in the no!el5 "lready it was deep summer on roadhouse roofs and in front of wayside garages, where new red petrol=pumps sat outin pools of light and when I reached my estate at Gest Rgg I ran the car under its shed and sat for a while on an abandoned grass roller in the yard. The wind had blown off, lea!ing a loud, bright night, with wings beating in the trees and a persistent organ sound as the full bellows of the earth blew the frogs full of life. The silhouette of a mo!ing cat wa!ered across the moonlight, and, turning my head to watch it, I saw that I was not alone == fifty feet away a figure had emerged from the shadow of my neighbor0s mansion and was standing with his hand in his pockets regarding the sil!er pepper of the stars. /omething in his leisurely mo!ements and the secure position of his feet upon the lawn suggested that it was Br. Gatsby himself, come out to determine what share was his of our local hea!ens (p.)K. This passage consists of four sentences, each containing se!eral prepositional phrases. "s 1ara Gright and Ionathan Hope ()4445 8K) point out, prepositions ha!e an orientating function, that is, they can function to anchor a te$t in time and space. This implies an awareness who is doing the orienting, and who is being oriented. Take the first sentence in the abo!e e$tract for e$ample. Githout the prepositional phrases such as ,a roadhouse roofs, in front of wayside garages,out in pools of light, at Gest Rgg, under its shed, for a while, on an abandoned grass roller, and in the yard., thesentence still functions grammatically, and the action is con!eyed, but we as readers do not know whereabouts theaction happens, and therefore cannot infer why it happens. Thus the effect is weakened. Beanwhile, the plurality of thenoun like ,roofs, garages, petrol=pumps. gi!es clues from which we can infer that it was deep summer in all theseplaces. Howe!er, the adjecti!es ,house, wayside. ser!e to restrict the nouns, indicating that it is summer not on all roofsand in front of all garages, only ,roadhouse roofs, and wayside garages with new red petrol=pumps outside.. Therefore, what sounds like a broad statement about the season turns out to be a highly specific description of a particular location. This precision of location gi!es this sentence a slightly disturbing tension because later on in the no!el, Byrtle Gilson is killed in an accident that has occurred just at such a wayside garage, that is, the author already predicts e!ents to come in this description. In this e$tract, all four sentences with prepositional phrases ha!e the cumulati!e effect of withholding the new information till the last sentence5 the introduction of Gatsby, thus creating suspense. ?rom this e$ample, we can clearly see that prepositional phrases can produce the effect of locating a passage in time or space, thus pro!iding a good way to describe the surroundings and e!oke moodsH it can also act as a delaying tactic, ser!ing to generate suspense as well as to create interest and e$pectation. RE!ERE"CES h8i "ssociated +ontent. ()44'. T. /. Rliot0s genre, writing style, issues and their rele!ance today.http5LLwww. associatedcontent. comLarticleL88@K:@Ltsoeliotsogenreowritingostyle h)i *aughman, Iudith /. and *roccoli, Batthew I. ()444. 1iterary Basters /eries (Aol.8 ?itzgerald. ?armington Hills, Bichigan5The Gale Group. h%i *erman, 2onald. ()448. ?itzgerald, Hemingway, and The Twenties. 1ondon5 the Qni!ersity of "labama press. h'i *ewley, Barius. (8@:%. /cott ?itzgerald0s criticism of "merica. In. Bizener, "rthur. (Rd. ?. /cott ?itzgerald5 " +ollection of+ritical Rssays (p. 8)K. Rnglewood +liffs5 #rentice=Hall. hKi *ooth, Gayne +. (8@:8. The 2hetoric of ?iction. Harmondsworth5 #enguin *ooks 1td. h:i *ruccoli, Batthew I. (8@;8. ed. #rofile of ?. /cott ?itzgerald. +olumbus, 7hio5 Berrill. h;i *ruccoli, Batthew I. (8@&K. ed. <ew Rssays on The Great Gatsby. +ambridge5 +ambridge Qni!ersity #ress. h&i *ullock, "lan, 7li!er /. *rass and /tephen Trombley. ed. (8@&&. The ?ontana 3ictionary of Bodern Thought. ?ontana #ress. h@i +allahan, Iohn. ?. (8@;). The Illusion of a <ation5 Byth and History in the <o!el of ?. /cott ?itzgerald. Illinois5 Qni!ersity ofIllinois #ress. h84i +arter, 2onald and #aul /impson. (8@@K. 1anguage, 3iscourse, and 1iterature5 "n Introductory 2eader in 3iscourse /tylistics.1ondon5 <ew ]ork Taylor[ ?rancis 2outledge. h88i +ooperman, /tanley. (8@@:. /cott ?itzgerald0s The Great Gatsby. h8)i +hen $ihua. ()44:. 7n 3escription of 3aisy0s Aoice in The Great Gatsby. In Xujing <ormal /chool <ewspaper. h8%i 3onaldson, /cott. ed. (8@&'. +ritical Rssays on ?. /. ?itzgerald0s The Great Gatsby. *oston5 G.F.Hall. h8'i Rble, Fenneth. ed. (8@;%. ?. /cott ?itzgerald5 " +ollection of +riticism. <ew ]ork5 BcGraw=Hill. h8Ki ?itzgerald, ?rancis /cott. ()44%. The Great Gatsby. Xingdao5 Xingdao #ress h8:i Hook, "ndrew. ()44). ?. /cott ?itzgerald5 a literary life. *asingstoke5 #algra!e Bacmillan. h8;i Iakobson, 2oman. (8@;:. 1inguistics and poetics. In. +hatman /. [ 1e!in /. (Rd. Rssays on the 1anguage of 1iterature(pp.)@@=%4% h8&i 1eech, G. <. and B. H. /hort. ()444. /tyle in ?iction5 " 1inguistic Introduction to Rnglish ?ictional #rose. *eijing5 ?oreign1anguage Teaching and 2esearch #ress. h8@i 1ong, 2obert Rmmet. (8@;@. The "chie!ing of The Great Gatsby. 1ewisburg #a.5 *ucknell Qni!ersity #ress. h)4i Biller, Iames R., Ir. (8@:'. ?. /cott ?itzgerald5 His "rt and His Techni-ue. <ew ]ork5 <ew ]ork Qni!ersity #ress. h)8i Ba 2ui$iang. ()44'. 7n +olor 3escription of /cott ?itzgerald0s Gritings. In /henyang Qni!ersity <ewspaper h))i <eufeldt, Aictoria and 3a!id b. Guralnik. ed. (8@@;. Gebster0s <ew Gorld +ollege 3ictionary. Bacmillan. A St(listic An'l(sis 'nd Inte&$&et'ti#n O+ Th#m's H'&d(/s The G#in 2ie /uzuki G．Introduction 6The Going0 is one of Hardy0s poems which was written shortly after the death of his wife, Rmma Hardy, in 3ecember, 8@8). He wrote many poems during 8@8)=8@8%while grie!ing his wife0s death. In this poem, Hardy is looking to the past, reconsidering the relationship between himself and his wife. The past has a double meaning for him. There are contrasts between happiness !s. unhappiness and brightness !s. darkness in the past. Through out this poem, we can see that Hardy is stuck in the past. Rmma0s sudden death was an une$pected one for Hardy, so he is confused between past and present. This poem is remarkably powerful as well as -uite influential and continues to appeal to readers today. I will analyze the te$t semantically first, then research grammatical features such as tense, pronouns, modality, ad!erbs, !erb phrases, acti!e and passi!e !oice. I will then analyze how the grammatical aspects are effecti!e in creating the meaning. 1astly, I will e$amine #arallelism and 3e!iation in this poetry and comment on the effecti!eness. 2．Interpretation o the poe$ Two characters appear in this poem, the speaker and the lady of the blessed memory. I consider that the speaker to be Hardy and the addressee his deceased wife, Rmma. He uses a monologue style in this poem. I feel that these are dialogues between Hardy and Rmma, though we cannot see any reply from her,her answers are hidden in this poem. He is also talking to himself and recalling ha!ing paid court in +ornwall. Three scenes are presented in this poem, one of the scenes takes place in his house, the second is in +ornwall where they paid court to each other. The third scene is at their house in Ba$gate. G st Stan7a Rmma Hardy died on ); th of <o!ember, l@8), shortly after, this poem was written. "ppealing to Rmma for response, Hardy, 6I 0, is asking why she has passed away without saying anything or what she had been thinking about him. Hardy hadn0t noticed at all what she had been thinking or how she had been seriously ill. ?or e$ample5 6gi!e no hint0, 6where I could not follow0, 6Gith wing of swallow0. The poem was written to con!ey lament, sorrow and loneliness. 2 nd Stan7a Hardy0s 6I0 continues to speak to his wife about why she has passed away without saying good=bye, or anything. "fter her death, he disco!ered how significant her presence and e$istence was to him. ?or e$ample5 6your great going0. Their relationship has changed completely after her death. He also realized that he had been misunderstanding her for a long time. H rd Stan7a This scene is presented at their house in Ba$gateH it outlines how Rmma spent her time there. This stanza also starts with 6Ghy0. The interrogati!e sentence with 6why0is repeated alternately in each stanza. Hardy solicits her response persistently. "t the same time, he asks himself about the reasons for their disconsolate life and his irritation and he is upset about their lack of communication. ?or e$ample5 6where so often at dusk you used to be0, 6Till in darkening darkness0, 67f the perspecti!e sickens mee0 J th Stan7a This scene is presented in +ornwall where they spent their happy courtship. He recalls the past with regard to himself and Rmma and he also e$plains how happy they were or how pleasurable their life was. ?or e$ample5 6"long the beetling *eeny +rest0, 6"nd, reining nigh me0, 6Gould muse and eye me0, 6Ghile 1ife unrolled us its !ery best0. L th Stan7a This scene is returning to the present. This stanza also begins with the6GhyJ0 interrogati!e form. He is asking again why they did not speak, and according to the conte$t, maybe they talked about going to +ornwall. Ge can suppose that they had ne!er been there after their courtship, so Hardy regretted that he had not taken her there. In this stanza, the pronouns change from 6you0and 6me0to 6we0. He -uestions whether they could ha!e renewed their time or they could ha!e amended their miserable life, but he knows that it is too late. R th Stan7a 6Gell, welle0 shows that e!erything is o!er. Time passes and the reality is facing him. The reality is that his wife is dead, and he cannot change anything. <obody could ha!e foreseen her sudden death, e!en she, herself could not ha!e known. ?or e$ample5 6To sink down soon l 7 you could not know0, 6That such swift fleeing0, 6<o soul foreseeing0, 6<ot e!en I = would undo me soe0 H．Tense In this section tense selection will be categorized to show the temporal dilemma Hardy is faced with. Results o Analysis Table 8. In the 8 st , ) nd and ' th stanzas, the past tense is always used, perfectly and neatly. In the 8 st and ) nd stanzas, the speaker is in the present, but he speaks using the R!ent #ast and the Habitual #ast Tense. "lso in the ' th stanza, the #ast Tense (R!ent and Habitual are used e$clusi!ely. Here, the speaker is looking back to the past and describing the aspect of his wife. In the % rd stanza, e$cept for 6you used to be0 the #resent Tense (Habitual is used. The scene is of the past incident, but Rmma0s daily proceedings are described in the #resent Tense. It makes them !ery !i!id and realistic. In spite of his regret in pre!ious stanzas, this shows that he is rather irritated by her beha!iourH I can see his ambiguity and ambi!alence in that stanza. In the K th and : th stanzas, the #ast Tense (/tate #ast, Habitual #resent and R!ent #ast and the #resent Tense (/tate #resent, Habitual #resent and R!ent #ast and the #resent Tense (/tate #resent, Habitual #resent and R!ent #resent are in use alternately. This shows that Hardy is confused between the past and the present, though he percei!es his present reality or actuality, he is still in a dilemma between regret and abandonment. J．Pronouns 2esults of "nalysis Table ). "s stated pre!iously, Hardy uses !arious kinds of pronouns in each stanza. 2emarkably in the 8st, % rd and : th stanzas, the pronoun, 6you0 is used, but in the K th stanza, it is replaced by 6we0. In the ) nd stanza, the pronoun, 6you0 is not described, but semantically 6you0is hidden in the conte$t. In the ' th stanza, 6you0 is used, but 6I0 is replaced by 6me0 in the same stanza. /o, why were the pronouns 6you0 and 6I 0replaced by 6we0 in the K th stanzaJ 7f course, 6you0 is Rmma and 6I0 is the speaker, Hardy himself. I think that in the 8 st , ) nd , % rd and : th stanzas, Hardy -uestions both his wife and himself about past incidents. The ' th stanza differs from the other stanzas semantically. The plural pronoun, 6we0 is inclusi!e of the addressee, so that the pronoun, 6we0 implies Rmma and Hardy. In the K th stanza, the plural pronoun, 6we0 implies that their broken relationship was caused by themsel!es and he asks why they did not communicate with each other. Here, he admits the lack of communication as their common fault. I can feel their harmony and his wish to become reconciled. In the % rd and ' th stanzas, there is a remarkable contrast. The two stanzas use the pronoun 6me0, the objecti!e form twice. *y using 6me0 instead of 6I 0, the subjecti!e form, these lines add to semantic strength or stress, and also sound !ery rhythmical. Though the two stanzas use the same personal pronoun 6me0, the objecti!e form, semantically they are in contrast and there are some differences. The % rd stanza gi!es us the impression of darkness, boredom, irritation and anger. The image of the ' th stanza is brightness, joy and happiness. I feel that Hardy represents the contrast between the %rd and ' th stanzas, by using the same pronounsH the objecti!e form. L．'odality The use of modal !erbs will be e$amined in this section. In the8st stanza,6would close0 － past tense, reported speech which refers to probability, is used. These modal au$iliary !erbs indicate to the reader that an une$pected incident has happened to him. 6+ould not follow0－ past tense, negati!e form which refers to possibility and ability (and perhaps probability, is used. "ccording to ?.2. #almer, 8@:K, there appears to be the same restriction in the use of 6will0and 6shall0for the past time references. They occur -uite regularly in 6would0and 6should0forms for reported speech. "ccording to #almer, the past tense 6could0and 6would0do not normally ha!e the implication of actuality if there is reference to a single action in the past, whereas the negati!e forms couldn0t -uite clearly deny the actuality of the e!ent. In the ) nd and % rd stanzas,modal !erbs are not used at all. I imagine that the factuality of these stanzas gi!es a strong impression to the readers. In the ' th stanza,6would muse0－ past tense which refers to possibility. 6Bight ha!e said0－ past perfect tense which refers to a little less certainty about the possibility and a lesser degree of obligation is used in the K th stanza. The 6Bight0seems to refer to a little less certainty and that it implies their lack of communication. It further indicates that Hardy is distrustful of himself and that he doesn0t remember e$actly what they ha!e talked about. In the last stanza, three modal !erbs are used5 6must, could and would0. 6Bust go0 － present tense which refers to obligation, certainty and conclusi!eness. 6Bust0also e$presses necessity with effect, and it implies the necessity of their reunion by using the modal !erb － 6 Bust. "s I ha!e stated in the 8 st stanza, same forms are used5 6could not follow0 － past tense and negati!e form, 6would undo0 － past tense. In the 8 st and last stanzas, the same modal !erbs are used, it implies that the speaker is reporting the e!ent,the fact,and also denying the actuality at the same time. R．Ad+erbs I ha!e e$cerpted how ad!erbs are used here, and classified them semantically. I -uote ,"n 7utline of +ollegiate Rnglish Grammar. by F.Tanaka, l@&;. "d!erbs are semantically di!ided into the following classes5 Results o Analysis Table %. "d!erbs of Time are used most fre-uently here. Ge can infer that Hardy was keenly conscious of time and the passage of tome. This is also related to the Tense. Ge can also !isualize how sudden Rmma0s death was, and according to ad!erbs like6-uickly, e!er, anon, ne!er, latterly, ere and soon0, it was not an e$pected reality for him. It is -uite interesting to study the ad!erbs of manner used here, which are semantically important. It is easy for the reader to imagine that after her death he was in a state of shock, but at the same time he e$amined himself and though and about their relationship introspecti!ely. S．,erb Phrases Here, I will distinguish between simple !erbs and comple$ !erb phrases in this poem. 2esults of "nalysis Table '. "s I ha!e stated abo!e, Hardy uses more simple !erbs than comple$ !erb phrases. He uses 8% base forms out of );. *ase form gi!es us an actual impression and they sound like a factual statement which doesn0t change or which will not change. There is a certain contrast between the present reality and the past, good memory. He represents it technically. "s far as the comple$ !erb phrases are concerned, he is using &modal au$iliaries ＋ le$ical !erbs out of88. "s I ha!e already stated as to the modality, they refer to obligation, certainty, possibility, necessity, permission and ability. The &modal au$iliaries ＋ le$ical !erb phrases which are used here are the past tense modals. 2. Xuirk, 8@@4 claims that, ,The past tense modals can be used in the hypothetical sense of the past tense..I feel there is a hypothetical meaning which is hidden in this poem. I think that Hardy indicates his internal ambiguity through this poem. K．Acti+e and Passi+e ,oice It is -uite interesting to notice that Hardy uses only acti!e !oice throughout the poem, there is not a single use of the passi!e !oice. I consider he intentionally used this simple style. *y using the acti!e !oice, the sentences could be simpler and clearer. They are !ery straightforward, but on the other hand, they ha!e a comple$ meaningH they illustrate the stance of the author as well. T．Parallelis$ and &e+iation "mong the :se!en=line stanzas, the 8 st , % rd and K th stanzas take one shape, and the )nd, ' th and : th stanzas take another. The shapes of regularity are foreground perfectly. The !erses begin with the interrogati!e ad!erb 6why0 alternately in stanzas 8, % and K. I can obser!e the parallelism of rhyme unification. The poem has one rhyme=scheme stanza, 6ababccb0 which is completely regular. There is also regularity and de!iation as to the length of the lines. Here the parallelism is foreground. ?rom the 8 st to the ' th stanzas, each stanza is composed of one sentence. There is a de!iation in stanza K, which has two sentences. There are four sentences in stanza :. The speaker0s statement and confession last long in stanzas 8 to ', but the conte$t is getting shorter in stanzas K and :. The effecti!eness of a long sentence in each stanza makes it more poetical, formal, and rhythmical. 7n the other hand, in stanzas K and :, they seem dialogic and more informal, so that the speaker seems to be talking to her as if she were there. This is how he creates the reality. I will also make some obser!ations on syntactic parallelism and de!iation. % rd stanza5 bending boughs darkening darkness There is a parallelism phonologically. Two of them consist of !erbs ＋ nouns. "lliterati!e patterns are the same, so that it sounds !ery rhythmical and impressi!e. ' th stanza5 ]ou were she ((who abode embedded / # + " # ]ou were the swan=necked one ((who rode embedded / # + " # There is a repetition of clause structures which are constructed by /ubject ＋ #redicate ＋ +ompliment ＋ "djunct ＋ #redicate. Here, the speaker illustrates the same person twice, differently. It implies an emphasis and makes a great impact on us as readers. 2ed=!eined swan=necked *y repeating the compound words, it makes the sentences rhythmical and poetic. Ge can appreciate the effecti!eness of syntactic parallelism that makes them rhythmical, poetic, and emphatic in meaning. K th stanza5 did we not speak 3id we not think These are interrogati!e forms and the same kind of structuresH only the !erb 6speak0 is replaced by 6think0. "s I ha!e mentioned before, this repetition indicates their lack of communication. They didn0t speak and think of each other. Thus, both the parallelism and de!iation indicate an emphasis in meaning. we0ll !isit we !isited There is also a repetition5 the same pronouns and !erbs are used, and the only difference is the Tense. The first one is written in the present tense, and the second is in the past tense. The parallelism and de!iation are foreground here. "s I ha!e stated before in terms of Tense, Hardy is confused about the past and the present. This is a repetition, but there is a contrast of time. He both presents the glory of the past and shows his regret. G0．Conclusion I ha!e been mainly concentrating my attention upon grammatical features in this poem. "fter the abo!e analyses, I recognize that Hardy is keenly conscious of the past. It seems that he adheres to or is a sla!e to past memories or incidents, because of his misconceptions of his wife.There are two key memories of the past for him5 the days when they spent their courtship in +ornwall and the days when they did not ha!e any meaningful communication misunderstandings. In the past, there is a clear contrast5 happiness and lamentation, brightness and darkness.The past has double meaning to him. Hardy is looking to the past, admitting his faults, but he is still in confusionH in other words, he is in ambiguity. He is in a dilemma between the past and the present. He still struggles with himself to face his present reality. /ometimes, the past and the present are mi$ed up in his mind, and that makes him confused. He indicates to us his uncontrollable struggles. Ge can also see his internal grief. "s I ha!e stated before, he also uses some techni-ues linguistically to make the poem poetic and rhythmical to represent the realities. Grammatical analyses were -uite useful to see the author0s style and main theme, as his style is composed of !arious aspects of language. Reerences 8. "brams Beyer Howard, (ed.(8@@%, The <orton "nthology of Rnglish 1i terature, : th Rdition, Aolume ), G.G. <orton [ +ompany "rmstrong Tim, (ed.(8@@%, Thomas Hardy /elected #oems5 1ongman "nnotated Te$ts, 1ongman 8K% ). *ailey I.7. (8@;4, The #oetry of Thomas Hardy5 " Handbook and +ommentary, The Qni!ersity of <orth +arolina #ress %. +arter 2onald (ed.(8@&), 1anguage and 1iterature, "n Introductory 2eader in /tylistics, 2outledge '. +arter 2onald and <ash Galter (8@@4, /eeing Through 1anguage － " Guide to /tyles of Rnglish Griting, *lackwell 88K K. +rystal 3a!id (8@&&, 2edisco!er Grammar, 1ongman :. 3a!ie 3. (8@;%, Thomas Hardy and *ritish #oetry, 2outledge [ Fegan #aul ;. Greenbaum /idney [ Xuirk 2andolph (8@@4," /tudent0s Grammar of the Rnglish 1anguage, 1ongman :: &. 1eech Geoffrey <. (8@:@, " 1inguistic Guide to Rnglish #oetry, 1ongman @. #almer ?.2. (8@:K, The Rnglish Aerb, 1ongman 84. #almer ?.2. (8@;@, Bodality and the Rnglish Bodals, 1ongman 88. #aulin T. (8@;K, Thomas Hardy =The #oetry of #erception, The Bacmillan #ress 1td. 8). #inion ?.*. (8@&@, Thomas Hardy 3ictionary, The Bacmillan #ress 1td. 8%. 2ichardson I.(8@;K, Thomas Hardy=The #oetry of <ecessity,The Qni!ersity of +hicago #ress 8'. Tanaka Fenji (8@&;, "n 7utline of +ollegiate Rnglish Grammar,<ew +urrent International +o., 1td. 88 A St(listic An'l(sis #+ The D#ll/s H#)se D&'5 Din' D('h As- MA5 Int&#d)cti#n The 3oll0s House (T3H was written by Fatherine Bansfield in 8@)). This is a story about little girls from different class society in Rngland who li!ed in the writer0s time. *oddy (8@&&, acknowledged that T3H is Bansfield0s best=known and most accessible story that few who read it can forget the little lamp and the reality of the children0s playground. The main concern of this essay is to see the way the writer e$poses the lamp. /ince we will see the lamp is the center of attention. The relation between the lamp, the children and the class conflict is crucial in presenting the theme of the story. *esides as the central point, the lamp functions as a channel for the readers to get ac-uaintance with the children from different families with different social status and with the social !alues that encompass them. Rlse Fel!ey has a significant role to bring the theme of the story. These children are the representation of their different societies (They are called the theme bearer. The analysis, therefore, will be focused on them. 3ue to limited space, only part of T3H with strong description of each theme bearer attracti!e to the readers will be analysed. The analysis is done on the basis of clause di!ision. "s suggested by Hasan (8@&K a story can be di!ided into some mo!ements which can be seen from the perspecti!e of its causal se-uences. In this way, the mo!ements will become apparently meaningful and interpretable. 7n the contrary, if the mo!ement stands alone it would be insipid and would not ha!e meaningful contribution to the whole story. Hasan (8@&K relates this mo!ement to the concept of transiti!ity. /he refers back to +hatman0s definitions of an e!ent which he saysthat 6R!ents are either actions (acts or happenings in which both are changes of state0 (8@&;5 p. ''. To make the analysis easier to follow, this essay will be arranged into some headings5 mo!ements, tense, the use of conjunctions and of dei$is to display the class conflict, the le$ico=grammatical analysis, the le$is chains and the closure of the story. T3H is di!ided into se!en discourse units, which identify each mo!ement and e$hibit each e!ent5 Bo!e 85 The coming of T3H and it0s feature (p. )@8 Bo!e )5 The *urnell children were eager to tell e!erybody at school about T3H (p. )@) Bo!e %5 "bout the Fel!eys (p. )@% Bo!e '5 The *urnell were telling the story about T3H to their schoolmate (p. )@' Bo!e K5 The fame of T3H and Fezia0s eagerness to in!ite the Fel!eys (p. &@' Bo!e :5 /tudents were ridiculing the Fel!eys (p. )@K Bo!e ;5 "t last there was chance for the Fel!eys to see T3H (p. )@: Tense The nature of T3H is narrati!e, which has a social function 6to entertain and deal with actual or !icarious e$perience ll..0 (Gerot [ Gignell, 8@@;5 )4'. To them, one of the features of a narration is the e$istence of past tense. It is because to narrate something is almost e-ual with to make a report on something. The difference between the two is that narration is usually based on a writer0s imagination while report is based on actual e!ents. Bansfield uses /imple #ast Tense (/#T for the most occurring tense in the story, because /#T is commonly used to report e!ents or actions that happened in the past. Ghen writing T3H, we assume that she reports it to the readers05 TD" was so big, that the carter and 0at carried it into the courtyard DDD etc*E 6T3H5 p. )@8. ]et, sometimes she uses #ast #rogressi!e Tense (##T. This tense is employed to say that someone is in the middle of doing something at a certain time. The action or situation has already started before this time but has not finished yet. Boreo!er, the past progressi!e does not tell us whether an action is finished or not. It may be finished it may be not. In many e!ents Bansfield mainly uses /#T, howe!er, in describing Fezia0s protest to Isabel, she utilizes ##T. That afternoon, the children had their play time at school. Isabel and her sisters were gathering with many other school girls. Isabel started to boast about T3H. *ut , she forgot to tell about the lamp so that Fezia broke out5 9The lamp’s best of all,’ cried ,e-ia 6H7* &he thought 8sabel wasn’t making half enough of the little lamp 6O7* )ut nobody paid any attention* 8sabel was choosing the two who were to come back DDD* (% (Bansfield, 8@)) 5 )@'. *y using ##T, Bansfield wants to draw the readers into the character0s situation, to percei!e what they were percei!ing, to think what was in their mind as if the readers were intensifying the words making half enough of the little lamp. The reader0s impression would not be the same if Bansfield changes that sentence into 8sabel didn’t make it half enough DDD’* The result toward our perception as readers might be different. This sentence seems to make the relation between the readers and the characters -uite a distance. +learly enough that the original sentence gets the readers in!ol!e and share the same e$perience with the characters of T3H. "t this stage the intimacy among the writer, readers and characters is made so robust. In addition to this, ##T takes role to gi!e impression that the story style is simple. This simplicity represents the simplicity and purity of the children0s soul, especially Fezia0s. 1ikewise, using ##T for sentence () and (% implies that Bansfield thinks those e!ents were important to her as well. Those sentences are attached to the character0s wish toward the lamp. Fezia wished Isabel to e$pose the lamp more than Isabel had done. Fezia was !ery fond of the lamp but she didn0t ha!e a chance to boast about it. /he e$pected Isabel would tell much more about it. "part from that, Isabel wished to look powerful and important in front of her friends by choosing and in!iting the girls to see the lamp. The Use #+ C#n1)ncti#n 'nd Dei3is t# Dis$l'( the Cl'ss C#n+lict I suspect that there is a class conflict in this story. The conflict is brought not only by the le$icogrammar of T3H but also by the use of conjunctions in the te$t, and of the dei$is. If we follow *utt et als. (8@@; we find that the deictic in the title of this story could be identified as a 6demonstrati!e0 whereas the definite article 6a0 in a tug and a twitch (T3H5 p. )@' [ p. )@: is a deictic functions as non=specific pointers. ?irst, the role of conjunctions to bring the idea of class conflict is analysed as follow. 7f the '% conjunctions, )) of them are additi!e either e$ternal or internal cohesion with paratactic relation. Beanwhile, twel!e other conjunctions are conse-uential with paratactic relation, and the rest are comparati!e, additi!e temporal conjunction with either paratactic or hypotactic relation. 3etails follow5 8. 6and0 9 )) (!arying with 6and then0H 6and as0H 6and by0 ). 6but0 9 8) (including 6but then0 %. 6e!en0 9 ) '. 6because0 K. 6than0 :. 6if0 ;. 6then0 &. 6but then0 @. 6by0 84. 6and as0 I would say that the paratactic relations between clauses are dominant rather than the hypotactic relations. There is something special that can be grabbed from it. "ccording to Gerot and Gignell (8@@' the hypota$is is found when one clause relates to the other dependently. Ghereas parata$is is used when one clause relates to the other independently, in which one clause follows one from another. The paratactic relation between most of the clauses in The 3oll0s House which relate and tell about the main characters can be interpreted through the three main characters (Fezia, 1il and Rlse. They should be seen e-ually because they are independent to one another. <o character is superior to the others. *y the author, these characters are intended as ha!ing a single entity, an independent indi!idual. /urprisingly, when talking about Isabel *urnell and her friends the hypotactic relations are often found. It seems that in her boastful manner Isabel is a lonely person who is in fact powerless. In drawing a social relationship she has to bring T3H into her friends0 attention. "mong others, Fezia, 1il and Rlse are robust and autonomous characters led by their feeling of humanity and truth. Ge can then ask if the use of conjunctions is the only tool to e$amine this class conflict. <ow is the turn to ha!e a look at the indefinite article !ersus the definite article. 6The0 is a definite article that refers to something that we ha!e already known. The thing has already been mentioned before and has already been in our mind. In other words, the thing is familiar to us. Bansfield0s effort to use 6the0 in The 3oll0s House indicates that she e$pects her reader to ha!e a preoccupation of T3H before proceeding through the whole story. The use of these two types of article is not without moti!ation. It was -uite common for young girls at the age of the girls of *urnells and Fel!eys to play a house. Bansfield dedicated her time for subtle but clear details of T3H in this part. The details which could be traced back from her own time when she played in a house in a garden of her house in Tinakori 2oad in Gellington. Goddy described her time as 6a time of roaming and e$ploring in fields and gardens0 (8@&&5', which reshaped into some of her stories including T3H. +ritics agree that describing imaginati!e details so real and strong is one of Bansfield0s natures on writing. /he gets her talent and it has been sharpened by her habit of writing diaries. The e!idence of her talent is seen in her description about her house in Tinakori 2oad. <o wonder, at the early part of the story she pro!ides T3H delicately, as if she writes her diaries. T3H and its details awaken her memory and she e$pects her readers would share it. 2egards the indefinite article, which Bansfield used for 6a twitch0 and 6a tug0 on 1il0s skirt, it is apparent that, Bansfield0s moti!ation is showing the readers that she herself feels so strange to that kind of twitch and tug. Gi!ing a twitch and a tug to sister0s skirt instead of con!eying an utterance was so peculiar. ]et, this peculiarity produced a powerful effect of the contrasti!e manner of children of different classes. It is not without consciousness when Bansfield uses this indefinite article to confront it with the definite article the story. Bansfield0s intention of using this non=specific pointer is to make the class confrontation more se!ere. The indefinite article is used embedded to the working class children whereas the definite article is used as a part of the description of the high=class children. The indefinite article also functions as a sign that the one who ga!e 6a tug0 and 6a twitch0 was as marginal and alienated as any e!ents commonly take place at the high=class society. In T3H, the indefinite article appears only twice, which is in the middle and almost at end of the story. 2eaders are e$pected to realize that it represents a reality of a kid who is so oppressed by the social prejudice. The kid was ne!er willing to talk because their talk would not be listened. The reader0s sympathy is thus shaped at this !ery moment. 1et alone, the first appearance of the indefinite article is in the part of Bansfield0s brief story of the Fel!eys0 family background. The E3ic# G&'mm'& An'l(sis Baterial process dominates the story (:8 processes while mental, beha!ioral, !erbal and relation processes spread out e!enly ( );, %4, and )K, 8& respecti!ely ==. Aarious circumstances are employed through out the selected part of the story. The !ariation of circumstances make the story run efficiently such as seen in these sentences5 (i ?our windows, real windows, were di!ided into panes by a broad streak of greenH (ii It was e!en filled already for lighting, though, of course you couldn0t light it etc. Bansfield uses circumstances conspicuously, that in this way, they affect the propin-uity of the readers to the nouns that follow the preposition and results to the readers perception to the e!ents in the story. 2eaders in!ol!e deeply to e!ery moment e$perienced by the characters. Bansfield often placed the Fel!eys in a passi!e sentences such as in5 6The Fel!eys were shunned by e!erybody0 (' and in 67nly the little Fel!eys mo!ed away forgotten0 (K. Bay we remember that 61anguage has an interpersonal function to encode the interaction between participants (*utt et al., 8@@;5 :' than we know that it means there is an e$change of information between Bansfield and the readers of The 3oll0s House. It is not a real mutual and reciprocal e$change of information of course, as when they ha!e to encounter T3H, readers do not ha!e opportunity to negotiate the bounded meaning in the language used by Bansfield. *ut, readers become aware that at this interpersonal stratum, the Fel!eys are at the beginning of the sentence. In other words, at the semantic le!el, the interpersonal stratum shows us how the Fel!eys becomes the subject of the sentence. Ghen we come across the thematization of sentence (', it is the Fel!eys who is thematized. It highlights the Fel!eys0 position from Bansfield0s perspecti!e. /he seems trying to keep them as her major characters. /he wants to make them remain conspicuous ( hence, thematized. "ccordingly, their position as subject of the sentence may lead us to a conclusi!e remark that they are the subjects of Bansfield thought at the time of creating T3H. "mazingly, when we see sentence (' at its ideational stratum, we will interpret that the Fel!eys has turned into a !ictim of the social injustice, as they are the goal (particularly as phenomenon of that passi!e sentence. In addition to this, in a sentence with passi!e !erb, agents are sometimes omitted. 1et alone if the agent is indefinite such as e!erybody, people, public etc. *ut, the writer decided to keep the agents e$plicitly stated. Feeping the word e!erybody e$plicitly will strengthen the !erb 6shunned0. This is because e!erybody comprises anybody of the society. It could be the middle class, other *urnells or e!en the readers. In this way, the writer attempts to put her readers into two different positions. 7n the one hand, they may become 6e!erybody0 who hates and shuns them. 7n the other, they could possibly turn to be sympathetic to the Fel!ey0s suffering. ]et, readers might pro!ide different responses. The clause forgotten in sentence (K is made dependent to the pre!ious clause. *y which then we call it as ha!ing hypotactic relation to that clause. This clause is structured in passi!e sentence. /ince it is embedded to the preceding sentence then the subject is omitted. Rmbedding is the way 6an element of a clause comes to function within the structure of a group0 (Gerot [ Gignell, 8@@;5 &;. *ut this clause is not only embedded, it is also an ellipsis in which some or parts of it are left out and reco!erable by the accompanying te$t. In this case the reco!erable bit is the subject of the preceding clause. This clause has an implied subject and is lack of an agent. This time, the writer lets the agent remain implicit, hence, become agentless. 2eaders could only infer that the clause has an indefinite agent as most passi!e clauses do. R!ery selection of the use of language always ends up in a conse-uence. The conse-uence of letting that clause agentless and subjectless is to gi!e a chance to !arious possibilities of interpretations by the readers on the bases of the le$ico=grammatical style used in both sentences. The Le3ic'l Ch'in This essay will also see The 3oll0s House from its le$ical cohesion based on the clause di!ision as it is assumed that it will be too comple$ and too long to see it from the whole story. That is why the le$ical cohesion is drawn from the clause di!isions, which is grouped into fi!e. Twenty nine chains decorate and tighten up this story. /ince there are fi!e groups of !ery strong descriptions of the children, the house and its lamp, so there will be fi!e major le$ical chains about that group 5 (8 the house () the lamp (% the society (' the *urnell and (K the Fel!eys encountered the lamp of T3H. ?or the sake of space the le$ical chain is made on the basis of group (8, () and (K. 1e$ical chain is used when we need to take a look at how participants are distributed throughout a te$t (Gerot [ Gignell, 8@@;. Included in participants are the people, places, things that ha!e been talked about in the te$t, and that the writer has referred to. The le$ical chain is able to show us what, who and which participants ha!e major roles in the te$t. Bore than that, at the higher le!el of e$amination, by using le$ical chain, we are helped to trace the writer0s process of creation and what, who, and which participants become so important to the author to bring her thought and feeling. /o to speak, knowing who relates to whom and to which one in the te$t will illuminate the reader0s awareness of the message in the story. The le$ical chain of T3H e$hibits T3H first time appearance both in the title and in the first three paragraphs of the story. T3H appearance at the beginning of the story is aimed at familiarizing the readers to its features and at building up the readers0 sympathy to it. "fter that first appearance, the writer left the middle part of the story with the absence of T3H. In the middle of the story, she merely presents the children and their playground. The playground which is used as an arena of mockery and showing off. It is at this playground that the conflict between the children from different classes became apparent. In this also, Bansfield finds her own ground to e$plore and to generate the class conflict. Bansfield construes the characters in few words, with simple !ocabularies but they are so ali!e and so con!incing. In stylistic, 1eech [ /hort (8@&8 makes these language features include in the le$ical categories. In this way, the relationship of the three *urnell sisters is made so subtle, the blind prejudice of society is clearly e$posed, and children are shown to be as cruel as the adults. *ut the little lamp in T3H shows us that there is always a thing in the world where e!ery one is interested in, that e!ery one should ha!e e-ual chance to get it. "dults are as e$cited as children in talking about T3H, the poor has the same eagerness in ha!ing a look at T3H as the rich . *ut the world is so strange and is sometimes unfair. The unfairness that lets the Fel!ey girls feel painful, embarrassed, an$ious, ignore, despised. *ut this poor little girl are so patient and entrust. The unfairness, pain, an$iety and ignorance are only part of life, to be balanced against those -ualities suggested by the little lamp which is so much more important to Fezia and Rlse than those social injustice, those prejudices, and those mockery. The Endin #+ the St#&( Bansfield is one of writers who are good at depicting dead silence among characters. In most of her stories, silence is usually put at the !ery end. 2eaders can find it in The Garden #arty (TG#, for e$ample. That is when 1aura, the main character, could not speak about the dead of a young neighbor. /ilence could also be found in The Rducation of "udrey h/ilence again in the dark room lli and in The 3aughters of the 1ate +olonel hIosephine was silent for a momenti. The 3oll0s House is ended when 1il and Rlse both are trapped in a silence after seeing the lamp in the doll0s house hThen both were silent once morei. This is the way Bansfield ends most of her stories. I find this as one of the styles that Bansfield has. 2eaders are always left in silence. In this way, Bansfield lets her readers find the real ending of the story. In short, as Rggins (8@@' writes, the discourse pattern of cohesion which include the le$ical cohesion, conjuncti!e relations, etc. will show us the logical relation and the e$plicit or the implicit relation structure of the te$t.