Ann
Banfield
University
of Berkeley
Les chifres en parenthèses rouges renvoient aux notes en bas de page
A Grammatical Definition of the Genre "Novel"
In
Le Degré Zéro de L'Écriture, Roland Barthes refers to the "signes
formels de la Littérature", listing "passé simple, style indirect,
rythme écrit" (1953 et 1964, p. 58). Earlier in the same text, he discusses,
as a variant of "style indirect," the "troisième personne du
Roman", there clearly attaching these formal signs to "L'Écriture
du Roman" (33). The "signs" Barthes identifies are in fact
grammatical phenomena. We might posit that each literary genre exploits (as
opposed to uses) a different set of such grammatical "signs" out
of the repertoire of possible forms provided by language.
Kristin Hanson and Paul Kiparsky (1997, p. 17) posit that verse is a form
of language with "Regular Recurrence of Linguistic Equivalences."
The interesting question becomes what things can qualify as equivalent. Hanson
and Kiparsky's answer is: units language treats as such. For instance, for
meter, "isochrony is often invoked as an important principle of certain
metrical systems, but time is not a linguistic entity" (p. 22). Rather,
the equivalent units will, as in language, be somewhat abstract entities like
segments treated as clusters of features, morae, syllables defined by various
properties. I.e., "for rhyme or alliteration to become a principle of
verse structure, the interval of recurrence must be measured by some other
linguistic element; and it is meter which normally serves this purpose."
(p. 33) Poetic meter is, in particular, "a stylization of the rhythmic
structure which language has naturally", Hanson and Kiparsky write (1997,
p. 56).[1] I.e., poetry heightens features
of natural language rather than being either "contra natura" - the
hypothesis of the violation of rules - or merely conventional patterns arbitrarily
imposed - the conventionalist or constructivist thesis. The elegance of the
"naturalness" argument for verse lies in the demonstration that
the relevant notions required for metrical theory like "syllable"
or "foot" are those already proposed by phonological theory and
thus independently justified.
Jean-Claude Milner, in a similar vein, furnishes an internal linguistic criterion
to differentiate prose and verse: the non-coincidence of syntactic and phonological
limits. "En bref," Milner summarizes his claim, "il y a vers
dès qu'il y a possibilité d'enjambement" (1982, p. 301) Milner contrasts
the "insignes conventionnels de la versification" with the possibility
of enjambement, which is not a "conventional" sign (1982, p. 300).
"On comprend l'importance du blanc typographique: il n'est pas une marque
conventionnelle, mais le signal de l'enjambement possible", Milner writes
(1982, p. 301). In other words, these grammatical signs of verse are "natural",
in the sense that they arise as possibilities of natural language. There might
also exist conventional signs of verse - Milner seems to suggest that there
do - but these in no way imply that the category "verse" is purely
conventional. For one could imagine that a theory of conventional forms could
be maintained, but that the repertoire of possible conventions would have
to be constrained so as to permit only those which conform to the features
of natural forms defined by the language. There might in addition exist natural
aspects of poetic form determined by other features of human cognition than
language. The same patterns of regular recurrences that constitute what Halle
and Keyser call the "abstract metrical formula" or various rhyme
schemes or stanzaic forms might be abstract forms realized in different arts
by other than linguistic material - by tiles of differing colors or shapes
or lumps of wool of different configurations, e.g. knit/purl/knit/purl, and
yet still be considered to each represent one of a limited set of possible
patterns producible and recognizable by the human mind. Language, per se,
however, decides which sounds are treatable as recurrences in the language
arts.[2]
The idea of natural language imposing constraints on possible literary forms
arises in the opening of Le Degré Zéro de l'Écriture when Barthes
isolates his key term "écriture" from two other notions, "language"
and "style". "Écriture" represents the arena of the writer's
freedom, a space carved out of both language and style - language, which each
writer finds already there, setting "une limite", tracing "un
horizon" (1953 et 1964, p. 13) to his or her innovations, and style,
which is personal to each writer, a kind of unconscious signature, formed
both, Barthes suggests, by inherited tendencies and learned features of vocabulary
and construction - "un lexique naissent du corps et du passé, non d'une
Histoire."[3] One might see the history
of writing which Barthes traces in this Ur-structuralist text as providing
those conventions which each generation comes up against and attempts to change,
for it is precisely conventions which the writer is "free" to change.
But Barthes is not a radical conventionalist, for language, which is "comme
une nature" (1953 et 1964, p. 13) and style, "au niveau d'une biologie
ou d'un passé" (1953 et 1964, p. 14), are posited as outside the arena
of freedom, that is, of what can be, by an act of will, changed. They define
the possible forms that writers can freely develop.
Barthes' list of the signs of Literature, which he attributes specifically
to the novel, might be taken as conventional signs, but I want to suggest
that, like the notions appropriate to poetry Hanson and Kiparksy treat, they
are natural signs or, if conventional, have a basis in natural features of
language. They are syntactic, as opposed to phonological "signs",
which determine the repertoire of different literary forms. Nor was Barthes
the first to find in grammar the contours of a literary form. As early as
Plato and Aristotle drama and epic were distinguished by the different exploitation
of the very grammatical phenomena (omitting tense) Barthes sees as exploited
by the novel - pronouns and reported speech. Plato claims that "poetry
and fiction fall into three classes. First, that which employs representation
only, tragedy and comedy, as you say. Secondly, that in which the poet speaks
in his own person; the best example is lyric poetry. Thirdly, that which employs
both methods, epic and various other kinds of poetry" (Republic, Book
III, 394c, Desmond Lee, trans.). The epic uses the method of drama by using
direct speech, where the first person is not the narrating I
but a character. Aristotle echoes Plato, although he makes no reference to
lyric but only epic and drama, claiming that one "difference in these
arts is in the manner in which each kind of object is represented. Given both
the same means and the same kind of object for imitation,[4]
one may either (1) speak at one moment in narrative and at another in an assumed
character, as Homer does; or (2) one may remain the same throughout, without
any such change; or (3) the imitators may represent the whole story dramatically,
as though they were actually doing the things described" (1448a20-24,
Ingram Bywater, trans.). The first of Aristotle's distinctions might be understood
to refer to the epic; the second to pure narration and the third to the drama.[5]
We assume as a working hypothesis that these divisions of genre correspond
to real divisions among the forms of the language arts, much as linguistics
adopts the traditional "parts of speech". But we are concerned with
finding in the differing exploitation of the syntactic phenomena of person
and reported speech a basis for distinguishing the related genres "novel"
and "short story", unknown to Plato and Aristotle, from the epic.
To Plato's and Aristotle's implicit focus on the alternation of the personal
pronouns and reported speech, Barthes, we saw, adds tense. We might ask why
the categories of person and tense are the particular "signs" that
come into play, if this is indeed the case, in this division of genres. I
will suggest a hypothesis that brings us back to Hanson and Kiparsky's claim
that verse crucially manipulates the units language treats as such and Milner's
hypothesis about verse as the possibility of enjambement. Milner's definition
of poetry also invokes linguistic units. For enjambement, the pertinent syntactic
limits call into play the major categories, NP, VP, AP, PP and S, or, in the
framework of the Bar-Notation, the maximal projections of X. Epic, on the
one hand, and novel and short story, on the other, likewise bring into play
the question of limits and thus of grammatical units. Banfield (1982), analyzing
the conjunction of reported speech, the personal pronouns and tense, formulates
what the relevant limits or units which serve to distinguish the novel are:
the node E and the unit there called "Text". The category E is a
non-embeddable sentence, one that permits constructions such as exclamations
which cannot occur in subordinate clauses such as those of indirect speech
and one that dominates the sentence itself. The Text is a larger unit of related
Es that falls outside the tree-based, hierarchically-ordered syntax of the
sentence. By contrast with verse, no unit smaller than the E need be mentioned
as setting the limits crucial to the form "novel". If a smaller
category such as the pronoun [N"] seems crucially involved, it is, we
will see, only insofar as it enters into the statement of a principle for
the interpretation of E or Text.
Hence, the theory of the novel dependent on E and Text does not exclusively
center "on sentences taken individually", without taking
into account "narrative context", as has been frequently claimed.[6]
The role of Text in the theory of unspeakable sentences has been largely ignored.
(There is no reference to the term as used in Banfield, 1982, in Fludernik,
1993). What is of significance for any proposed theoretical construct is whether
it is confirmed by the evidence. That confirmation may take time - i.e., a
notion may be proposed at one point to explain a certain phenomenon in a fashion
that might seem ad hoc. Only later might other phenomena be discovered
which are accounted for by this same notion, thus giving it a generality it
seemed initially to lack. I hope in the course of this paper to so provide
further confirmation for the unit "Text", which proposed some minimal
formal notions of "context" in a quite precise sense. The proposals
suggested will at the same time point to directions for further research.
It is at the interface between E and Text that, I will argue, the novel and
short story distinguish themselves from the related narrative genre that is
the epic. E and Text are both categories independently required by the grammar.
What will turn out to be decisive is that E and Text serve to distinguish
two distinct levels of pronouns and deictics. This is, to my knowledge, a
hitherto unobserved fact. If one translates Plato's formulation in terms of
whether the poet speaks or not in propria persona to turn on the first person,
then his divisions focus on a pronoun which we will characterize as a Text-level
deictic.
The specific innovation of novelistic style is to have suppressed the first
person and, in the process, to have discovered in the linguistic repertoire
a third person pronoun which is not an anaphor but what I have called an "E-level
deictic".[7] This discovery permits the
language of the novel to overturn the monopoly of the first person and to
orchestrate within the confines of a single Text the "shift in point
of view", a traditional notion a linguistic-based theory of the novel
can give formal content to. It is the possibility of shifts in point of view
within a single Text which sets the novel and the short story apart from other
genres, although not every novel or short story may exploit this possibility.
The fact that they don't becomes itself significant - hence the marked case
of the novel of "limited point of view".
The
Domain of the Third Person Deictic Pronoun
The notion "Text" was initially introduced in Banfield
(1973 and 1982) to account for direct speech: a direct quotation is not just
a new E, separate from its introductory clause, but also a new Text. This
is because direct speech may introduce a new referent for the first person
pronoun. Thus, one of the defining features of the unit called "Text"
is the obligatory coreference of every instance of the first person pronoun
within it. This is captured by the principle of "Concordance of Person",
which stipulates "1 Text/1 Speaker". (1982, p. 59) Hence, it might
appear that Text is the level at which point of view is determined, and the
Shift in Point of View an intertextual and not an intratextual phenomenon.
But this conclusion fails to take in the evidence of the language of the novel.
The phenomenon of represented speech and thought with its possible "third
person point of view" means that a new point of view does not require
a new referent of the first person and a new Text.
"1 Text/1 Speaker", when its full implications are seized, captures
something of the peculiar status of the first person pronoun. But these implications
were not sufficiently foregrounded to register with the commentators, perhaps
because all its consequences were not taken cognizance of in Banfield (1982).
More recently, in Banfield (1998 and 2001), I have returned to the question
of the first person, first via a philosophical criticism of the Cartesian
cogito and then via a linguistic analysis of "I" vs. the
other deictics. It emerges that the "s/he" of represented speech
and thought, while it resembles "I" in being the reference point
for the interpretation of subjective elements, differs from "I"
in a way significant for the development of the novel form with its multiple
viewpoints. Taking the term "shifter" Jakobson borrowed from Jespersen
for the deictics to emphasize their ability to shift referent (and ignoring
certain complications), we note that the deictics shift referent with each
new E (treating, as in Banfield, 1982, each conjoined sentence as a separate
E), i.e., at "E-level", as indicated below:
1. a. Thisi is white, and thisj is white, too.
b. Nowi you see it; nowj you don't.
c. "Now, too, the rising sun came in at the window, touching the red-edged curtain and began to bring out circles and lines. Now in the growing light its whiteness settled in the plate". Virginia Woolf, The Waves, p. 75
d. "Now the cab comes; now Percival goes. . . . Now Percival is gone." The Waves, p. 147[8]
e. "Here was the boss of a chair; here the bulk of a cupboard." The Waves, p. 110
f. "Therei is mine, therej is Susan's." The Waves, p. 141
g. Youi close the windows, while youj lock the door.
h. "Herei are pictures. Herej are cold madonnas among their pillars. . . . Herek are gardens; and Venus among her flowers; here are saints and blue madonnas". The Waves, p. 156
i. "Nowi were are we, she said to herself. Where is the train at this moment? Nowj, she murmured, shutting her eyes, we are passing the white house on the hill; nowk we are going through the tunnel; nowl we are crossing the bridge over the river". [Woolf's italics] The Years, p. 271
j. "Therei is the very powerful, bottle-green engine without a neck, all back and thighs, breathing steam. . . . Therej is a bristling of chimneys and towers." The Waves, p. 31
Unique among the shifters, "I" may not shift with each "E" but changes referent only at Text-level, e.g., in Direct Speech. Otherwise, in a sequence of related Es understood to form a unit, i. e., a Text, as in (2), all instances of "I" must be coreferential:
2. "Ii see a triangle now; Ii saw a square a moment ago".
(2) provides evidence for the Principle of Concordance of Person. Evidence of this sort was treated in Banfield (1982) as largely crucial for defining the notion "Text." What was sufficiently recognized was the different behavior of I with regard to the other shifters. For the fact that the other deictics also seemed to shift reference from introductory clause to quoted clause of direct speech masked their difference, which the examples in (1) reveal. For a new Text is necessarily a new E. Putting the fact accounted for by 1 Text/1 Speaker in terms of the distinction between Text-level and E-level shifters reveals certain hitherto unnoticed logical consequences of the former generalization and gives a formal status to the distinction between two concepts made in Milner (1978): a) Lacan's concept of the "sujet de l'énonciation", which is "le point de subjectivité auquel on rapporte un énoncé en acte et dont on ne suppose rien - ni permanence ni conscience ni individualité" and b) the concept, "tout descriptif, de "locuteur"'".[9] I.e., the role of I as Self or subject is distinct from its role as speaker. This also explains why only "I" among the traditional deictics can cooccur with the passé simple in what Benveniste calls "histoire". This is a revision of Benveniste's claim that the passé simple cooccurs with no deictic, but the exceptional cooccurance of I with the passé simple follows from the fact that it is the only Text-level shifter. (See Banfield, 1982, pp. 146ff.).
Further
Defining Features of the Text
Not
all sequences of Es constitute a Text. A collection of sentences, e.g., of
proverbs, is not so constrained, nor a sequence of linguistic examples. If
they are ordered, it is by principles external to language - in being, for
instance, all examples of grammatical constructions, as in (3):
3. a. John wrote to me on April 20.
b. I answered him immediately.
c. We continued to write each other for the next three days.
By contrast, (3a and b) can be understood to form a Text if the NPs it contains are interpreted as related by coreference, as in (4) below:
4. Johni contacted mej on April 20. Ij answered him i immediately. Wei j continued to write each other for the next three days.
The question of the coreference of "John" and "him" or of "me" and "I" and of the coreferentiality of "We" with "John" and the first person singular does not arise in (3), because no relation of the sort in (4) is implied by a list of sentences. In (4), the coreference of the proper name and the third person pronoun is optional in principle, but in practice it is obligatory if no other relevant antecedent for "him" is supplied by a larger context, as it would be if the sequence in (4) were preceded by the first sentence in (5):
5. The inspectori wrote asking mej to inform him i as soon as I heard from Johnk. Ij answered him i immediately. Wei j continued to write each other for the next three days.
A similar ambiguity of referent would become possible for the third person plural pronoun of the sequence in (4) if it were proceeded by the first sentence in (6):
6. The inspectori and Ij had been corresponding about John k's case for some time. Johnk contacted mej on April 20. Ij answered him j immediately. Wei j continued to write each other for the next three days.
("Him"
could equally be interpreted as coreferential with "John," and "we"
with "John" and "me".)
All instances of the first person singular, on the other hand, must be interpreted
as coreferential if the three sentences in 3 are treated as a linguistically
related sequence. It is for this reason that direct speech constitutes a shift
to a new Text, because it permits a shift to a new referent for "I".
Concordance of Person is one formal principle defining which sequences of
Es constitute a Text. There are other such principles which link E to E. One
is that which governs the interpretation of sequences of tenses. This is presented
in Banfield (1982) as Concordance of Tense. The verbs in the examples in (5)
and (6) above are interpreted as referring to sequential events. In the passages
below, the verbs in the passé simple in (7a), in the narrative present tense
in (7b), and in the English simple past in (7c) are similarly understood to
refer to events which occur in sequential order. The verbs so interpreted
in (7a) occur in a single E, but (7b and c) make clear that the principle
applies as well to sequences of Es.
7. a. "Trois dames parurent, s'effarèrent, traversèrent en fuyant à petits pas pressés." Zola, L'Oeuvre, p. 158
b. "Factories, cathedrals, glass domes, institutions and theatres erect themselves. The early train from the north is hurled at her like a missile. We draw a curtain as we pass. Blank expectant faces stare at us as we rattle and flash through stations. Men clutch their newspapers a little tighter, as our wind sweeps them, envisaging death. But we roar on." The Waves, p. 111
c. "Travellers watched the hands of the round yellow clocks as they followed porters, wheeling portmanteaus, with dogs on leashes. In all the stations trains were ready to bore their way through England; to the North, to the South, to the West. Now the guard standing with his hand raised dropped his flag and the tea-urn slid past. Off the trains swung through the public gardens with asphalt paths; past the factories; into open country. Men standing on bridges fishing looked up; horse cantered; women came to doors and shaded their eyes; the shadow of the smoke floated over the corn, looped down and caught a tree. And on they passed." The Years, p. 193
The
linear order established is non-deictic, the order of the integers. It would
thus use something like Bertrand Russell's formulation for events in time:
it happened at time T, T1, T2,
Tn. . .
Milner (1990, p. 61, n. 26) notes as another feature of such sequences definitization,
giving as an example the following direct speech construction: "(aa)
A man saw a unicorn in his garden and said to his wife: 'a/*the unicorn is
in our garden'." This seems to indicate, Milner comments, "that
a change of speaker (which, in Banfield's terms, implies a change of E) prevents
definitization." But, he adds, "there is a distinction to be made
between two cases: (i) two Es that are structurally distinct, define, however,
the same reference for the 1st person pronoun (and for other shifters); (ii)
two structurally distinct Es define different references for the 1st person
pronoun." "Definitization would only be possible in the first case.",
he concludes. (p. 61, n. 26)
The distinction between (i) and (ii) is precisely that between a sequence
of Es constituting a single Text and the particular sequence of Texts consisting
of introductory and quoted clauses of direct speech.[10]
Thus, the indefinite noun phrases in the sequences below are interpretable
as coreferential with the appropriate definite noun phrases in the sentences
[Es] following them.
8. a. Jacob saw a lean Italian sportsman with a gun walking down the road in the early morning light. The man then turned a corner and disappeared. (Cf. Jacob's Room, p. 137)
b. A stout gentleman laboriously hauled himself in, dusty, baggy, slung with gold chains. Jacob wondered if the man were Italian. (Cf. Jacob's Room, p. 136)
c. A young man with a Wellington nose, who had occupied a seven-and-sixpenny seat, made his way down the stone stairs when the opera ended. The young man set himself somewhat apart from his fellows. (Cf. Jacob's Room, p. 69)
d. Long past sunset an old blind woman sat on a camp-stool with her back to the stone wall of the Union of London and Smith's bank. The old woman clasped a brown mongrel tight in her arms. The dog was asleep. (Cf. Jacob's Room, p. 67)
e. "An old beggar woman is fumbling at a big garden gate. Half blind. You know the place well. Stone deaf and not in her right mind the woman of the house is a crony of your mother." (Beckett, Company, p. 11)
The indefinite and definite noun phrases in (8) can be understood as coreferential because the sequences in (8a-e) form each a single Text. Milner states correctly that a change of speaker "in Banfield's terms, implies a change of E". But technically it is a new Text, which, a fortiori, means a new E, rather than a new E, that permits a new speaker. Such examples of definitization are not possible, by contrast, across the frontiers of two Texts, including between introductory clause and quoted clause of direct speech:[11]
9. a. A stout gentleman confided this to the person next to me: "The gentleman on your right is Italian."
b. An old beggar woman, as I recall, sang a song which began, "The old woman is my mother."
c. A young man interrupted our conversation: "I must beg to differ with the young man."
A quite different set of phenomena the prediction of whose behavior would require reference to the unit Text is the class of sentence or coordinating conjunctions that includes not only and, or, but but also words like for, thus, however, French donc as discussed in Nølke and Olsen (2000) and mais in Jorgensen (in this issue). There are differences in the various members of this class. But they plausibly play a role in the linking of E to E. Furthermore, many, if not all, are excluded, it seems to me, from the initial position in the Text. This is a subject deserving of further research.
The
Epic: the Genre of Direct Speech
We
have now arrived at a point where the differences between the units E and
Text can be invoked to distinguish the genres "novel" and "short
story" from the epic. We can hypothesize that the notion of "character"
within narrative in general crucially involves the linguistic principles for
which the constructs Text (as well as E) are required, principles that involve
the behavior and interpretation of pronouns and other referring categories,
e.g., the coreference of indefinite and definite noun phrases of the sort
Russell calls "descriptions" with the special case of definite NPs,
proper nouns, and pronouns, (along with adjective phrases and other constructions
predicated of the NPs). It can be demonstrated that they are not simply pragmatic
principles. Tense also plays a role in the development of character, in adding
the idea of persistence as well as change over time, an idea Proust foregrounded
and problematized. (A narratively realized character contrasts with the static
notion of character in texts like those of La Bruyère.) The units E and Text
are not, of course, restricted to the genre novel. But the specificity of
novelistic character results from their being exploited in idiosyncratic ways.
In particular, the conception of character peculiar to the novel is dependent
the properties of the +human E-level shifter, Barthes' "third person
of the novel", which does not appear in the epic. This third person pronoun
is not a simple anaphor, dependent on an NP antecedent. For this reason, it,
like the first person, may occur in initial position in a Text, as in these
opening sentences of stories by D. H. Lawrence.
10. a. "She was his second wife, and so there was between them that truce which is never held between a man and his first woman." "Her Turn," p. 39[12]
b. "'After all,' she said, with a little laugh, 'I can't see it was so wonderful of you to hurry home to me, if you are so cross when you do come.'" Lawrence, "New Eve and Old Adam," 71
c. "She was too good for him, everybody said. Yet still she did not regret marrying him." Lawrence, "A Sick Collier," p. 267
A
speaker cannot, by contrast, begin a conversation by saying "She was
too good for him." Indeed, incipit is a notion that is definable with
respect to the unit Text.[13]
This specificity of the E-level pronoun shifter, what I have called elsewhere
"the name of the subject", Lacan's "sujet de l'énonciation",
might be considered a core of the first person itself; what the first person,
Lacan's "locuteur", adds is obligatory coreference from E to E.
One can see this split in the I in those cases of represented speech and thought
in the first person. The sentence "How my heart was beating now, I realized"
is an example of represented thought; the parenthetical presents a past response
to a simultaneous, past event. The first person is speaker or narrator as
well as subject or Self. 1Text/1 Speaker prevents its core of subjectivity
from detaching itself from its role as speaker and behaving like an E-level
shifter.[14].
Aristotle's characterization of the epic in effect singles out the alternation
between sentences of narration with a first person narrator and sentences
of direct speech, i.e., of the shift from Text to Text, as essential to the
form. This is indeed an observably striking feature of the oral epic, one
readily apparent if we examine some frequent formulas and formulaic lines
which consist of introductory clauses of direct speech, from the Homeric formula
"epea pteroenta proseuda" ("spoke winged words") repeated
several times verbatim to introduce quoted speech (Iliad
1.201, 4.69, 5.242, 12.365; Odyssey 1.122, 4.77, 10.265,
16.7), to Beowulf's formulaic "Beowulf maÞelode"
["Beowulf spoke"] (405, 529), "Hrothgar maÞelode" ["Hrothgar
spoke"] (372, 925, 1840), "Weard maÞelode" ["The guard
spoke"] (286), or "Ða se wisa spraec" ["Then the wise
one spoke"] (1698), "werodes wisa, wordhord onleac" ["The
company's leader unlocked his wordhoard"] (259), to the many formulas
introducing direct speech in La Chanson de Roland.
11. dist Marsìlies li reis, 563; ço dist li reis Marsìlies 580:
Ço dist Marsilies 520, 603
Diënt Franceis 192, 243, 278, 734, 1047, 1561 [1359], 1609 [1652], 1628 [1385]
Ço dist Rollant 1288, 1360, 1376, 1456, 1558 [1515], 1702, 1722
Ço dit Rollant, 1713
Ço dist li reis 329 [280], 327, 508, 1789
Ço dit li reis 1757
Ço dist Turpin 1393
Dïent paien, 61, 450, 467, 1590, 1666 [1615], 2115
Dïent Franceis, 1508, 1536, 1544, 1579, 1604, 1627 [1585], 1652
Dist al paien, 1589, 1608 [1565], 1632, 1898
Dist Oliver 1170, 1274, 1705, 1719
Dist l'arcevesque 1280
Dist Blandandrins 370, 377, 392
Dist li Paiens, 537, 550
Dïent plusor 1434
Aprés li dist 1335
Guenes respunt 375, 518
Respont li quens 1548 [1505], 1712
Respunt li quens, 1676li quens Rollant respunt, 1026 [1025]
Respont Rollant, 1062, 1106, 1548, 1591
Respunt Rollant 292, 1053, 1088,1394, 1752Si lur ad dit un mot curteisement 1164
Subjectivity or point of view is not "represented" in the oral epic; instead there are shifts to the character's spoken viewpoint. These frequent passages of direct speech mark the "public" aspect of the epic hero or heroine, who is constituted by his or her words and deeds. Novelistic character is, by contrast, "private".[15] (We might also see a further connection between the epic's public performance and the novel's private "consumption".) This difference between epic hero and heroine and novelistic character is captured in the difference between the first person used for the former in direct speech and the E-level shifter used for the second.
The
Shift in Point of View
The
epic's manipulation of direct speech allows the shift to a new Text and hence
to a new speaker and that speaker's spoken point of view. There is another
possibility for the novel. Once it has eliminated the first person elsewhere
than its use of direct speech, it neutralizes or renders null 1 Text/1 Speaker.
Novelistic character's subjectivity is separated from its role as speaker
and subjectivity disconnected from speech. Point of view or subjectivity can
then be located in the special third person pronoun, the E-level shifter.
In the process, the link between E and E forged by 1 Text/1 Speaker is dissolved.
Each E in theory can now, in the absence of a first person, represent an independent
point of view. I say "in theory", because in fact if point of view
shifted radically from every E to every E, it would frequently be impossible
either to detect the shift or to decide whose point of view was represented.
Yet there seems to be no formal principle that constrains the shift in point
of view within a single Text. Here is plausibly a case where pragmatic principles
intervene. Consider the examples of shifts in point of view in (12). At some
point in the Text we pass from an E representing one (or no) Self's point
of view to one representing another Self's point of view. (I indicate where
the shifts occur by placing in bold face the name of the character whose point
of view is represented; I further indicate whether the point of view has the
form of represented speech (R.S.) or represented thought
(R. T.) or whether a sentence of Pure Narration intervenes
between those representing point of view. In some further cases, I indicate
where the shift is marked by a distinction between reflective or non-reflective
consciousness, as discussed in Banfield (1982, pp. 183ff.)
12. Shifts in Point of View
a. [Mr. Ramsay] "He would find some simple easy thing to say to her. But what? For, wrapped up in his work as he was, he forgot the sort of thing one said. There was a puppy. They had a puppy. [R.S.] Who was looking after the puppy today? he asked. [James, D. S.] Yes, thought James pitilessly, seeing his sister's head against the sail, now she will give away. I shall be left to fight the tyrant alone. The compact would be left for him to carry out. [R. T.] Cam would never resist tyranny to the death, he thought grimly, watching her face, sad, sulky, yielding. [Pure Narration] And as sometimes happens when a cloud falls on a green hillside and gravity descends and there among all the surrounding hills is gloom and sorrow, and it seems as if the hills themselves must ponder the fate of the clouded, the darkened, either in pity, or maliciously rejoicing in her dismay: [Cam, R. T.] so Cam now felt herself overcast, as she sat there among calm, resolute people and wonder how to answer her father about the puppy?. Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse, pp. 250-1
b. [Lily Briscoe] "Gently the waves would break (Lily heard them in her sleep); tenderly the light fell (it seemed to come through her eyelids). [Augustus Carmichael] And it all looked, Mr. Carmichael thought, shutting his book, falling asleep, much as it used to look." To the Lighthouse, pp. 214c. [Linda] Exquisite were her mother's hands, and the two rings she wore seemed to melt into her creamy skin. And she was always so fresh, so delicious. The old woman could bear nothing but linen next to her body and she bathed in cold water winter and summer.
"Isn't there anything for me to do?" asked Linda.
"No, darling. I wish you would go into the garden and give an eye to your children; but that I know you will not do."
"Of course I will, but you know Isabel is much more grown up than any of us."
"Yes, but Kezia is not," said Mrs. Fairfield.
"Oh, Kezia has been tossed up in her shawl again.
[Kezia] But no, Kezia had seen a bull through a hole in a knot of wood in the paling that separated the tennis lawn from the paddock. But she had not liked the bull frightfully, so she had walked back through the orchard, up the grassy slope, along the path by the lace-bark tree and so into the spread tangled garden. Katherine Mansfield, "Prelude," p. 73.
d. [Kezia] Whatever could it be? She had never seen anything like it before. She stood and stared. And then she saw her mother coming down the path.
"Mother, what is it?" asked Kezia.
[Linda] Linda looked up at the fat swelling plant with its cruel leaves. High above them, as though becalmed in the air, and yet holding so fast to the earth it grew from, it might have had claws instead of roots. The curving leaves seemed to be hiding something . . ." Katherine Mansfield, "Prelude" pp.74-5
e. [Lily Briscoe] "But now, with all her senses quickened as they were, looking, straining, till the colour of the wall and the jacmanna beyond burnt into her eyes, she was aware of some one coming out of the house, coming towards her; but somehow divined, from the footfall, William Bankes, so that though her brush quivered, she did not, as she would have done had it been Mr. Tansley, Paul Rayley, Minna Doyle, or practically anybody else, turn her canvas upon the grass, but let it stand. William Bankes stood beside her.
[Lily?, plural point of view of Lily and Mr. Bankes?, Mr. Bankes? "They had rooms in the village, and so, walking in, walking out, parting late on door-mats, had said little things about the soup, about the children, about one thing and another which made them allies; [Mr. Bankes] so that when he stood beside her now in his judicial way (he was old enough to be her father too, a botanist, a widower, smelling of soap, very scrupulous and clean) she just stood there. He just stood there. Her shoes were excellent, he observed. They allowed the toes their natural expansion. Lodging in the same house with her, he had noticed too, how orderly she was, up before breakfast and off to paint, he believed, alone: poor, presumably, and without the complexion or the allurement of Miss Doyle certainly, but with a good sense which made her in his eyes superior to that young lady. Now, for instance, when Ramsay bore down on them, shouting, gesticulating, Miss Briscoe, he felt certain, understood.
"Some one had blundered."
[Lily and Mr. Bankes] Mr. Ramsay glared at them. He glared at them without seeming to see them. That did make them both vaguely uncomfortable. Together they had seen a thing they had not been meant to see. They had encroached upon a privacy. [Lily] So, Lily thought, it was probably an excuse of his for moving, for getting out of earshot, that made Mr. Bankes almost immediately say something about its being chilly and suggest taking a stroll. She would come, yes. To the Lighthouse, p. 30f. [conversation in represented speech, Mrs. Ramsay] Wasn't it late? she asked. They hadn't come home yet. [Pure Narration] He flicked his watch carelessly open. [Mr. Ramsay] But it was only just past seven. [Mr. R, represented thought] He held his watch open for a moment, deciding that he would tell her what he had felt on the terrace. To begin with, it was not reasonable to be so nervous. Andrew could look after himself. Then, he wanted to tell her that when he was walking on the terrace just now - here he became uncomfortable, as if he were breaking into that solitude, that aloofness, that remoteness of hers . . . . [Woolf's ellipses] But she pressed him. [Mrs. R, represented speech] What had he wanted to tell her, she asked, thinking it was about going to the Lighthouse; that he was sorry he had said "Damn you." [Mrs. R, represented thought] But no. [Mr. R] He did not like to see her look so sad, he said. [Mrs. R] Only wool gathering, she protested, flushing a little. They both felt uncomfortable, as if they did not know whether to go on or go back. [Mrs. R, represented speech] She had been reading fairy tales to James, she said. [Mrs. R, represented thought - or Mr. & Mrs. R] No, they could not share that; they could not say that. To the Lighthouse, pp. 103-4
g. [William Bankes] He seemed to be rather cocksure, this young man; and his manners were bad. But Mr. Bankes bade himself observe, he had courage; he had ability; he was extremely well up in the facts. Probably, Mr. Bankes thought, as Tansley abused the government, there is a good deal in what he says.
"Tell me now . . . [Woolf's ellipses]" he said. [Lily Briscoe?] So they argued about politics, and Lily looked at the leaf on the tablecloth; [Mrs. Ramsay] and Mrs. Ramsay, leaving the argument entirely in the hands of the two men, wondered why she was so bored by this talk, and wished, looking at her husband at the other end of the table, that he would say something. One word, she said to herself. For if he said a thing, it would make all the difference. He went to the heart of things. To the Lighthouse, p. 94h. "'Do you write many letters, Mr. Tansley?' asked Mrs. Ramsay, [Lily Briscoe] pitying him too, Lily supposed; for that was true of Mrs. Ramsay - she pitied men always as if they lacked something - women never, as if they had something. [Charles Tansley, represented speech] He wrote to his mother; otherwise he did not suppose he wrote one letter a month, said Mr. Tansley shortly.
[Charles Tansley, represented thought] "He was not going to be condescended to by these silly women. He had been reading in his room, and now he came down and it all seemed to him silly, superficial, flimsy. Why did they dress? He had come down in his ordinary clothes. He had not got any dress clothes. . . . Yes, it was pretty well true, he thought. They never got anything worth having from one year's end to another. They did nothing but talk, talk, talk, eat, eat, eat. It was the women's fault. Women made civilization impossible with all their "charm," all their silliness.
"'No going to the Lighthouse tomorrow, Mrs. Ramsay,' he said, asserting himself. He liked her; he admired her; he still thought of the man in the drain-pipe looking up at her; but he felt it necessary to assert himself.
[Lily Briscoe] "He was really, Lily Briscoe thought, in spite of his eyes, but then look at this nose, look at his hands, the most uncharming human being she had ever met. Then why did she mind what he said?" To the Lighthouse, p. 86i. [James Ramsay] "Meanwhile, he noticed, Cam dabbled her fingers in the water, and stared at the shore and said nothing. No, she won't give way, he thought; she's different, he thought. [Mr. Ramsay] Well, if Cam would not answer him, he would not bother her Mr. Ramsay decided, feeling in his pocket for a book. [Cam Ramsay] But she would answer him; she wished, passionately, to move some obstacle that lay upon her tongue and to say, Oh, yes, Frisk." To the Lighthouse, p. 169.
j. [shift from Narration to the representation of non-reflective consciousness] "Puis, tous entrèrent un à un sous la petite coupole à jour."
"Paris était sous eux, à droite, à gauche, partout." Edmond et Jules de Goncourt, Manette Salomon, p. 81l. "La vieille femme lui prit silencieusement la tête dans ses deux mains, la serra contre son coeur, poussa un soupir, et laissa échapper: --Allons! Il faut donc vivre encore!
"Ceci se passait dans une petite chambre dont la fenêtre montrait un étroit morceau de ciel coupé de trois noirs tuyaux de tôle, des lignes de toits, et au loin, entre deux maisons qui se touchaient presque, la branche d'un arbre qu'on ne voyait pas." Edmond et Jules de Goncourt, Germinie Lacerteux, p. 59
There
are various ways of choreographing a shift in point of view, some of which
are illustrated above. Sometimes we pass from an E of represented thought
with one point of view or Self to another with another Self via a sentence
of narration, as in (12a), via a sentence of direct speech, as in (12c) or
via the use of parentheticals, as in many of the examples of (12). Sometimes
we pass from Narration to the representation of non-reflective consciousness,
as in (12a), sometimes from a point of view to pure Narration, as in (12b)
and (12c). (12c) is particularly revealing, because the last sentence invokes
"the branch of a tree which couldn't be seen." If the narration
had been in the first person, the knowledge of this branch would be registered
by at least one character, the first person narrator. In the novel as it appears,
there is no supposition that any character is aware of this branch.
In this way, the novelistic universe contains many points of view, some occupied
by different individuals at different moments - "Nows" - and some
unoccupied. The total knowledge of that universe is therefore possessed by
no one character in it, none is "omniscient"; it is possessed by
the novel or story as a whole. This implicit epistemology of the novel follows
from the linguistic properties of the units E and Text, once the elimination
of the first person renders null 1 Text/1 Speaker. The whole - the linguistic
artifact through which this universe is represented, the Text - is held together
by other principles than 1 Text/1 Speaker, those determining Sequence of Tense,
the Coreference of NPs with lexical head nouns and their pronoun anaphoras,
definitization, etc. That whole nonetheless permits the internal shifting
of point of view, because point of view is attached no longer rigidly to the
Text via its I, but to an E-level Shifter, grammar's name
for the subject.
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Notes:
1. See also Hanson (1996, p. 57).
2. Against the naturalist hypothesis is ranged the current conventionalist orthodoxy. One among many examples of it is that presented in Fludernik (1993). She "foreground[s] the invented quality of all representational processes and insist[s] on their consequent fictionalization . . . . reported discourse constitutes a fiction that language fabricates in accordance with discourse strategic requirements etc." Fludernik (1996), despite the title - Towards a 'Natural' Narrotology-, continues this "by firmly reiterating my insights about the artificial nature, inventedness and fictionality of the mimetic", now extending it "to cover, quite generally, all mimetic representation." (p. 10) In "propos[ing] to redefine narrativity in terms of cognitive ('natural') parameters, moving beyond formal narratology into the realm of pragmatics, reception theory and constructivism" and in admitting that "the term 'natural' in the title feeds from three separate disciplines and areas of knowledge", Fludernik puts the language of anti-conventionalism-"cognitive parameters", "natural", "a theory of naturalness" - contradictorily in the service of constructivism.
3. These are the features which can be imitated or parodied, as Proust knew, and which certain computer studies seek to identify.
4. The formal distinctions that are being made here can be considered independently of any theory of representation or mimesis.
5. The fact that Aristotle seems to exclude lyric poetry from "mimesis" leads Hamburger (1973) to treat first person narration as logically distinct from third person narration. See pp. 10ff.
6. Fludernik (1993) claims that when a formal analysis of the E "eventually has to have recourse to contextual criteria, these are alien to the framework [of Banfield (1982)], whereas the conventional account of free indirect discourse can much more easily handle interference from the 'previous sentence' or, indeed, paragraph". (p. 362) Here Fludernik does not understand the constraints under which a theory which aims not merely to repeat the intuitions of traditional criticism but to be minimally "formal" and empirical operates. Yes, as Fludernik writes, "[a]s a linguistic theory about free indirect discourse, Banfield's model therefore exposes itself to empirical verification and falsification." (1993, p. 362) It only must be added that any theory of the novel, whatever its points of reference, if it is to be non-trivial, must "expose itself" to falsification. Fludernik mentions Jahn (1992) and Violi (1986) as "regret[ing] the sentence-by-sentence approach in Banfield's model, which - as already noted - is a direct consequence of her modified Chomskyan framework." (Fludernik, 1993, p. 364) But Violi's reference to the notion of text is quite different from either Jahn's or Fludernik's.
7. See Banfield (1998 and 2001).
8. There are cases where the temporal deictic "now" does not shift referent. Cf. "All is solid now. Instinctively my palate now requires and anticipates sweetness and lightness . . . . Now I can look steadily into the mill-race that foams beneath." The Waves, p. 138 It seems to me strained to read the first two nows as other than simultaneous.
9. I ignore a third concept Milner distinguishes, that of the "sujet parlant" defined as "un point de subjectivité par rapport à la capacité de parler, indépendamment de toute mise en acte; c'est donc le concept d'une permanence qui, par-delà les énoncés singuliers, les unifie." (1978, p. 229, n. 1)
10. Introductory clause and quoted clause of direct speech are not any two random Texts; they are two related but separate Texts. In Banfield (1973 and 1982), there is a relation of coreference between a demonstrative in the introductory clause and the entire quoted E.
11.
Certain cases of coreference can also operate between introductory clause
and quoted clause of direct speech, i.e., between two related Texts. For
example, the subject of a communication verb in the introductory clause is
interpreted as having the same referent as the first person in the quoted
clause:
The
directori said to mej,
"Ii will guarantee that youj
will receive the order by the eighth." But the coreference of the sort
found in (4-6) where a pronoun corefers with a proper name, for instance,
is in contrast to that holding between introductory clause and quoted clause
in direct speech, where the pronoun seems less acceptable: "Mary asked
Bill's sister, 'Is Bill (?he) your younger brother?'"
By contrast, dialogue has somewhat different constraints. An indefinite noun
phrase used by a first speaker may be coreferential with a noun phrase containing
a demonstrative but not with one containing a noun phrase with a definite
article, as in the relation of E to E in the same Text in the examples of
(8). Thus, if speaker A says "I saw an old woman", speaker B may
felicitously respond "That old woman is my mother" but not "The
old woman is my mother."
12. It seems also to be possible to begin a novel or short story with a pronoun without antecedent if it occurs within the point of view of a character. Thus, in (11a), either pronoun, his or she, is eligible to be interpreted as the E-level shifter, i.e.; as the Self of the E; the other would refer to the object of the Self's thought. A third possibility is that the sentence represents the plural point of view of them.
13. Phenomena like definitization also seem to show special behavior in this position. My intuition is that Texts beginning with a definite as opposed to an indefinite NP, even including the proper noun, mark themselves as specifically novelistic, like those in (11). "Once upon a time there lived a little girl. The girl..." is not a novelistic opening, whereas "The girl left the cool of the house and walked into the hot streets of the city" is.
14. Marcel Vuillaume has pointed out to me the following example:
"Superbe, ai-je-dit. Magnifique. Par accident, je prends en filature deux encaisseurs d'un gros gang, je n'en sais rien. Le même gros gang vient de faire disparaître une nénette, et vous me branchez directement sur la disparition de la nénette, et je ne suis toujours au courant de rien. Vous savez ce que j'aurais fait à leur place ?- Ben - Je me serais abattu, ai-je bredouillé. J'aurais abattu Eugène Tarpon, tout de suite, très vite? (Jean-Patrick MANCHETTE, Que d'Os!, pp 164-165)
The sentence "Je me serais abattu!, Vuillaume maintains, is to be understood unambiguously with the two instances of the first person having disjoint reference, with the first occurence of "je" referring to the gang and the second to the narrator-here, Eugène Tarpon, who is a private detective. "J'(i) aurais abattu Eugène Tarpon(j)", where "les hommes du gang" = (i) and "Eugène Tarpon" = (j) In English, there are two possible translations of the sentence, "I would have killed myself" and "I would have killed me", both more or less equivalent in meaning, although the reading with disjoint reference is clearer with either the non-reflexive pronoun or when the reflexive pronoun is contrastively stressed. The example makes clear that, despite the splitting of reference, 1 Text/1 I nonetheless holds. For the contrast with the third person counterpart "He would have killed him", which only permits a reading with disjoint reference for the two third person pronouns, by contrast with "He would have killed himself", shows that, insofar as the first person refers to the speaker or "locuteur", there is still coreference in "Je me serais abattu."
15. Of course, direct speech occurs in the novel as well. It is the absence of represented thought in the epic that is crucial. But we can observe differences between the use of direct speech in these two forms. The novel places a value on variety-in vocabulary, in wording, in the order of words. An interesting case is furnished by the difference between the formulas introducing direct speech in the epic style and the "parentheticals" which often accompany both direct speech and represented speech and thought in the novel, as in "Oh how happy she was, she realized." Ruppenhofer (2001) writes that the way in which quoted speech is presented "differs quite significantly between the spoken and the written mode. In conversation, only a limited number of different speech reporting verbs occur." He lists the verbs "ask, bawl, be like, decide, figure, go, it be, it be like, say, tell, think, wonder" (p. 1). "The reporting verbs used are also more varied in number and type" in writing. Ruppenhofer's sample includes "add, admit, agree, answer, ask, assure, bark, comment, confess, confirm, continue, counter, croak, demand, echo, explain, hiss, lie, query, remark, remind, reply, retort, say, shout, shriek, sob, tap out, tell, think, whisper". The examples below of such parentheticals illustrate the novel's tendency to vary them, even though nothing in their nature requires that they not be the same formula each time. It is also apparent that this tendency was well-established long before contemporary fiction, even if, as Ruppenhofer claims, certain kinds of communication verbs have "gained in frequency particularly . . . Manner and Noise verbs". (p. 7) The following list from Sir Walter Scott's The Antiquary indicates the great variety of these parentheticals even in a short space: "answered the Naiad", "retorted the Antiquary", "rejoined the virago", (p. 88); "blubbered the boy", (p. 116). As suggested in Banfield (1982, p. 86), by the time of Joyce's Ulysses, the practice was established enough to be parodied.