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Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of GALAŢI
Fascicle XIII. New Series.
Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006
pp. 1 - 4
1
Language
and
Literature
ROMANUL ROMÂNESC LA ÎNCEPUTURILE LUI. MODELE APUSENE ŞI
RELEVANŢA LOR.
MANOIL, DE DIMITRIE BOLINTINEANU
Simona Antofi
Asumarea, de către Bolintineanu, a unei serii de modele de scriitură romanescă,
unele (aproape) incompatibile, în redactarea romanului Manoil se explică, în mod evident,
prin încercarea de a arde etapele şi de a sincroniza specia abia născândă a romanului cu o
paletă largă şi diversificată de modele care funcţionau – sau funcţionaseră deja – în
literaturile occidentale, în special în cea franceză.
Formele romanului epistolar îmbină tradiţia Noii Eloise, a lui Jean Jacques
Rousseau, cu cea wertheriană, cu modelul René, al lui Chateaubriand, cu romanele doamnei
de Staël, cu cea a romanelor de mistere gen Misterele Parisului, al lui Eugène Sue, sau
Misterele Londrei, al lui Paul Féval, dar şi cu formula realismului de tip Balzac şi Stendhal.
Particularităţile de structură şi de semnificaţii care vin din direcţii atât de diferite, în
cadrul romanului lui Bolintineanu, se simt atât la nivelul naraţiunii, cât şi în construcţia
personajelor şi în ansamblul lumii ficţionale pe care textul o construieşte. Se adaugă, aici,
lipsa de vigoare narativă a epicului romanesc, la începuturile literaturii române moderne, şi
difuziunea câtorva mărci ale lirismului – percepute ca argumente în favoarea literaturităţii –
în întreg corpusul literar al epocii paşoptiste şi postpaşoptiste. Este vorba, în special, despre
criteriul sincerităţii şi despre clişeul – şi strategia de construcţie textuală – mărturisirii,
precum şi de omul poetic – acel prototip al eroului romantic sentimental, melancolic,
nefericit, pesimist, etern îndrăgostit de natură şi „predispus spre lungi divagaţii lirice” [1].
Structura epistolară a romanului Manoil favorizează asimilarea tututror acestor
elemente în spaţiul epicului – validând, în acest mod, un tip de scriitură deloc nou, în
literatura universală, şi confirmând aşteptările unui public cititor obişnuit să aibă de-a face
cu o serie de indicii semantico – structurale care să-i dirijeze ferm lectura.
În aceeaşi ordine de idei, romanul sentimental „izolează protagoniştii” într-un model
societal obţinut printr-un procedeu reductiv în centrul căruia stă eroul ce consideră deşartă
lupta pentru existenţă şi care, tocmai de aceea, se retrage la moşie preferând, aristocratic,
compania femeilor şi „farmecul naturii” [2].
Pe de altă parte, trebuie menţionate mărcile realismului de tip balzacian – reunirea,
la începutul romanului, a personajelor într-o scenă a mesei sau a salonului favorabilă
prezentării sintetic – realiste a tipologiilor şi a caracterelor pe care evoluţia ulterioară a
personajelor este de aşteptat să le confirme, prezentarea conflictului / conflictelor ce vor
regla desfăşurarea tramei epice şi, implicit, a taberelor conflictuale, precum şi situarea

tuturor acestor elemente într-un context spaţio – temporal istoriceşte determinabil, care
motivează, în bună măsură, comportamentul eroilor, caracterele şi relaţiile interumane.
Amestecul ingredientelor de tip roman sentimental face, însă, ca tipologiile – în
special cele feminine – prezentate să se situeze în siajul romantismului minor: Smărăndiţa –
„fără exagerare, o frumuseţe rară, dar seamănă cu o floare ce în dimineaţa vieţei sale se
înclină melancolică! ... un suflet plin de blândeţă, o inteligenţă superioară; multe cunoştinţe,
mai ales pentru o damă din timpul şi din ţara noastră!”; Zoe – nepoata Smărăndiţei – „o
copilă de cincisprezece anişori; chipul mătuşe-sei, dar strălucitor de frăgezime. Ai
asemăna-o cu un bobocel de roză pe care fluturii încă nu-l bagă în seamă; plină de spirit şi
de inimă ...”; „Mărioara este o amică a Smărăndiţei: o fată de boier mare, de 18 – 20 de ani;
nu este prea frumoasă, dar drăgălaşă ca luna lui mai! ... vorbele ei răsună ca o muzică
sublimă; ideile cele mai comune în gura ei se îndumnezeiesc!” [3]. Aşa cum lasă să se
înţeleagă acest portret cu putere de caracterizare după modelul romantic al epocii, Mărioara
– spiritul comun, susceptibil de a devia în direcţia polului negativ al macrosemnificaţiei
romaneşti, va confirma aşteptările publicului cititor şi se va transforma într-o prostituată
celebră, cu veleităţi criminale.
În ceea ce-l priveşte pe protagonistul romanuilui, el ilustrează tipologia parvenitului
în varianta cel mai des întâlnită, şi anume parvenitul prin femei. În romanul sentimental –
arată Nicolae Manolescu – rangul aristocratic are o importanţă majoră. Însă Manoil este
orfan, cu o poziţie socială inferioară, un intrus în casa şi în familia moşierului Colescu,
soţul Smărăndiţei. „Aspiraţia de a se contopi cu lumea dorită” şi „orgoliul plebeu” îl
caracterizează şi pe el, ca şi pe eroii balzacieni şi stendhalieni. Însă metamorfoza
personajului – inexplicabilă în grila verosimilităţii realiste – poate fi privită ca „semnul
imitaţiei şi al parvenitismului” numai dacă acceptăm, o dată cu Nicolae Manolescu, faptul
că Manoil îl detestă pe faţă pe Alexandru C., pentru a-l admira în secret [4].
Chiar şi aşa, predictibilitatea – „indiciile privind încadrarea într-un gen anumit,
sistemul personajelor, teme proeminente, poziţia şi felul naratorului”, ca „elemente
implicite de anticipare” [5] – este sporită. Faptul se explică prin aceea că, în perioada
paşoptistă şi postpaşoptistă, „în construcţia tramei narative, atât «romanţul» de senzaţie, cât
şi novella melodramatică sau povestirea aventuroasă acceptă, ba chiar cultivă o doză mare
de arbitrar, de neverosimil, supunând-o unui tratament de domesticire” [6] pe gustul
cititorului.
Ca urmare, dus la pierzanie de o femeie malefică, Mărioara, în prima parte a
romanului, protagonistul - care face romanul în calitate de scriitor şi semnatar al scrisorilor
pe care i le trimite companionului său întru ficţiune, un anume B, personaj absent sau autor
ficţionalizat ca personaj absent – va fi recuperat tot printr-o femeie, cea angelică, Zoe, care
l-a iubit dintotdeauna în secret şi care îl protejează din umbră.
Ca o noutate absolută în scriitura romanescă a epocii paşoptiste, procedeul mise en
abîme intervine, la un moment dat, ca instrument de reglaj narativ – anunţă revenirea
morală şi sentimentală a eroului – şi de recuperare programată în însăşi teza romanului, a
acestuia. Este vorba despre un vis în care lui Manoil îi apare Smărăndiţa, care între timp
murise, mustrându-l şi, în acelaşi timp, sintetizând existenţa de până atunci a personajului
masculin / anticipând revenirea lui spectaculoasă la ipostaza pozitivă de la începutul
romanului, îmbunătăţită suplimentar prin acuza nedreaptă de crimă, ca formă de purificare
şi de ispăşire a tuturor greşelilor comise cândva..
2

Iată vorbele Smărăndiţei, în visul lui Manoil:
”Altădată tu erai floarea tinerimei noastre! Patria ta pusesă în tine atâta
speranţă! ... inima ta era tânără şi plină de candoare ca o fecioară; câţi te cunoşteau nu
puteau să se oprească de a te iubi ... iar astăzi, cel mai degrădat om nu s-ar crede stimat
ca să-ţi strângă mâna; cel ce crezuse în talentul tău astăzi roşeşte că a putut avea o
asemine cugetare; inima ta s-a îmbătrânit, s-a degradat şi nu mai poate să bată de acum
înainte decât la fapte nefolositoare! ... pentru ce ai venit în casa aceasta? Vrei să
amăgeşti pe Zoe; pare că roşeşti de a fi singur în felul tău, şi vrei să târăşti în tina în
care te afli tu fiinţa astă tânără şi inocentă! ...”
Cu alte cuvinte, romancierul îşi construieşte personajul pe două paliere distincte şi
perfect opozabile, am zice izomorf opozabile. Primul Manoil este eroul romantic pozitiv
prototipal: „suflet pur, cinstit, fire sensibilă, bănuitoare, înclinat spre melancolie şi
pesimism, dezgustat de viaţă”. Dacă acest Manoil este animat de un „patriotism ardent”,
conform comandamentelor epocii şi cu certe „sentimente demofile” [7], cel de al doilea este
un depravat cinic – după modelul personajului Alexandru C., cu care construieşte o
desăvâsşită antiteză romantică, în prima parte a romanului.
Scrisorile acestui Manoil transformat fac posibilă o prezentare – în grila realismului
francez, contaminată, şi de această dată, cu certe elemente de recuzită romantică şi
sentimental – melodramatică – a decăderii aristocraţiei de rasă, în perioada de tranziţie de
după 1850, concomitent cu ascensiunea aristocraţiei banului şi cu extinderea progresivă a
fenomenului parvenitismului:
„M-am aruncat în braţele tuturor dezmierdărilor – cei mai frumoşi cai albioni au
avut onoarea să plimbe persoana mea pe cel mai frumoase strade ale cetăţilor italiene;
vinul cel mai scump, bucatele cele mai rari au împodobit masa mea şi au îmbuibat
stomahul meu, cele mai graţioase copile ale lui Pafos au încununat fruntea mea de flori
şi de sărutări. Apoi dacă trebuie să-ţi spun şi aceasta, am stricat mai multe măritişe
nepotrivite, ceea ce nu este un mic serviciu pentru umanitate”; „m-am convins că
patriotismul este numai o fanfaronadă la cei mai mulţi; sau de nu, un egoism între mai
mulţi indivizi. Acolo unde mi-e bine şi acolo unde-mi place, acolo este patria mea, şi este
de prisos ca s-o iubesc, căci ea poate exista şi fără iubirea mea”; „cel întâi lucru ce am
făcut, ajungând în Bucureşti, a fost să întreb dacă se fac mari pierderi în cărţi. Mi s-a
răspuns că se perd pe seară şi până la cinci mii ducaţi. Vestea aceasta m-a mai împăcat
cu patria.”
Însă, în intenţia autorului, transferată în mesajul străveziu al finalului romanului,
Manoil este doar „un suflet nobil cari a scăpat o clipă hăţurile”, căci „iluzia eticistă
contează mai mult în acest realism decât adevărul”, iar manipularea personajului este, din
acest punct de vedere, „simplă şi străvezie.” [8]
Adăugând aici „tema scrisului” şi „imaginea literaturii naţionale”, a cărei realitate
„se mută în plină ficţiune romanescă” [9] – Bolintineanu însuşi este citat de protagonist
într-una dintre scenele petrecute în salonul Smărăndiţei - imaginea acestui roman al
începuturilor literaturii române este, în datele ei esenţiale, deplină.
Potrivit opiniei - clasicizate deja – a unuia dintre exegeţii literaturii create de
Bolintineanu, romanul Manoil este „deficient din punct de vedere compoziţional, al creării
3

şi individualizării personajelor”, dar „ e interesant ca atmosferă.” [10]
Note
[1]. Dimitrie Păcurariu, Bolintineanu, Ed. petru Literatură, 1962, p. 82
[2 . ] Nicolae Manolescu, Arca lui Noe, vol. I, Ed. Minerva, Bucureşti, 1980, p. 83
[3]. Toate fragmentele din romanul Manoil au fost extrase din ediţia Dimitrie Bolintineanu, Manoil. Elena,
Ed. Minerva, Bucureşti, 1988.
[4]. Idem, pp. 84 - 85
[5]. Liviu Papadima, Literatură şi comunicare. Relaţia autor – cititor în literatura paşoptistă şi
postpaşoptistă, Polirom, 1999, p. 167
[6]. Ibidem
[7]. Dimitrie Păcurariu, op. cit., p. 82
[8]. Nicolae Manolescu, op. cit., p. 87
[9]. Andrei Bodiu, 7 teme ale romanului postpaşoptist, Ed. Paralela 45, 2002, p. 170
[10]. Dimitrie Păcurariu, op. cit., p. 82
Referinţe
Bodiu, A. (2002). 7 teme ale romanului postpaşoptist, Piteşti: Ed. Paralela 45
Bolintineanu, D (1988). Manoil. Elena, Bucureşti: Ed. Minerva
Manolescu, N (1980). Arca lui Noe, vol. I, Bucureşti: Ed. Minerva
Papadima, L (1999). Literatură şi comunicare. Relaţia autor – cititor în literatura paşoptistă şi
postpaşoptistă, Bucureşti: Polirom
Păcurariu, D (1962). Bolintineanu, Bucureşti: Ed. pentru Literatură
Abstract
The novel appears and develops in the Romanian literature after the year 1848 through the
assimilation of western models, especially those from the French literature and through the
juxtaposition of elements belongong to the romantic convention of the genre – epistolary novel,
sentimental novel, mystery novel – and the elements peculiar to to the convention of Balzacian or
Stendhelian realism. Dimitrie Bolintineanu’s Manoil contributes the features of the literary prose
of the epoch, i.e., the poetism and the lyrical enunciation as well as the ethical thesis of the novel.
Résumé
Après l’époque de 1848, le roman apparaît et se développe dans la littérature roumaine par
l’assimilation d’une série de modèles occidentaux, particulièrement de la littérature française, et
par la combinaison des éléments appartenant à la convention romantique du genre – le roman
épistolaire, le roman sentimental, le roman de mystères – avec des éléments spécifiques à la
convention du réalisme balzacien ou stendhalien. A tout ça, le roman de Dimitrie Bolintineanu,
Manoil, ajoute les particularités de la prose littéraire de l’époque. Il s’agit des marques de la
poéticité et de l’énonciation lyrique ainsi que de la thèse éthique du roman.
Rezumat
După epoca paşoptistă romanul apare şi se dezvoltă în literatura română prin asimilarea unei
serii de modele occidentale, mai ales din literatura franceză şi prin combinarea elementelor care
aparţin convenţiilor romantice ale genului – romanul epistolar, romanul sentimental, romanul
misterelor – cu elemente specifice convenţiei realiste balzaciene sau stendhaline. Romanul
Manoil a lui Dimitrie Bolintineanu completează particularităţile prozei literare a epocii mărci
ale poeticităţii şi ale enunţării lirice precum şi teza etică a romanului.
4

Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of GALAŢI
Fascicle XIII. New Series.
Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006
pp. 5 - 8
STILUL „PROVERBIAL”
Doina Marta Bejan
5
Language
and
Literature
„Stilul proverbial” este în majoritatea limbilor naturale consolidat şi conservator,
reprezentând o varaiantă a limbajului popular, fiind considerat un stil închis. Prin „stil
închis” trebuie să se înţeleagă un ansamblu de particuarităţi de conţinut şi de expresie, finit
şi relativ redus ca număr de elemente specifice, cu structuri fixe de combinare, în care
inovaţiile sub raportul noilor tipare nu sunt, în general, acceptate. De fapt, orice stil
„închis”, cu tipare abstracte, are posibilitatea de a genera, teoretic la infinit, un număr de
texte concrete. În limitele tiparelor existente, limba creează mereu structuri frazeologice
care tind să se fixeze, iar multe dintre ele au şansa de a deveni proverbe dacă, pe lângă
condiţiile lingvistice, necesare în primul rând, vor ajunge să le satisfacă şi pe cele
extralingvistice reunite sub termenul „tradiţie”.
Din perspectivă structurală, „tiparele proverbiale” formate şi consacrate în limbajul
popular s-au putut extinde şi în alte variante ale limbii, în speţă limba literară (care acceptă
includerea de texte şi de tipare proverbiale).Deşi „stilul proverbial” este „închis”, corpusul
de texte este în permanenţă „deschis”, deoarece modelele (tiparele) proverbiale sunt atât de
evidente şi de productive, încât s-ar putea „vorbi de o adevărată competenţă şi performanţă
paremiologică la vorbitorii unei limbi” (Tabarcea, 1982: 52). Structura limbii furnizează
elemente pentru realizarea performanţei proverbiale. Potenţial, proverbul există în orice
frază care îndeplineşte anumite condiţii. Mulţi creatori au intuit acest fapt, iar cultura
română cunoaşte cazul tipic al lui Cilibi Moise, creator de pilde, maxime şi aforisme, care
a lansat în circulaţie sute de texte paremiologice modelate după cele existente, bazându-se
pe specularea unor caracteristici ale structurii limbii: Acela care deosebeşte om de om nu
este om (aici se valorifică polisemia cuvântului om, dar trebuie să se aibă în vedere şi
modelele Omul e om sau Om la om nădejde trage). I.L.Caragiale îl pune pe celebrul
personaj Mitică să creeze aforisme după model proverbial: „Ţi-ai cumpărat o blană nouă.
Te întâlneşti cu Mitică. În loc de s-o porţi sănătos! îţi zice: Bravos! Blană ai, acum junghi
îţi mai trebuie!”; Mitică, în compania unei amice, aşteaptă să treacă tramvaiul, şi tramvaiul
nu mai trece. „– Ah! domnişoară, toate trec în lumea aceasta, numai tramvaiul nu trece.”
(apud Tabarcea, 1982: 53).
În limbajul presei (şi în limbajul publicitar, astăzi) s-a manifestat o tendinţă vădită
spre „proverbializare” încă din secolul al XIX-lea, prezenţa locuţiunilor şi proverbelor
fiind apreciată ca o apropiere a stilului publicistic de limba vorbită (Andriescu, 1979: !58 –
162). Sesizarea intuitivă a trăsăturilor formale ale proverbului, utilizat ca mijloc de
persuasiune şi de atragere a atenţiei publicului totodată, a putut favoriza tendinţa creativă
în materie de proverbe. Mai ales „titlurile unor articole de presă sunt formulate proverbial
(înţelegându-se prin aceasta atât un model preexistent, imitat, cât şi crearea de tipare noi),
urmărindu-se o anume startegie în scopul captării receptorului.” (Tabarcea, 1982: 55).Se
utilizează titluri alcătuite din:

-citarea de proverbe: Una caldă, alta rece (Revista 22, XVIII,nr.12, 20–26 martie
2007);
-combinarea proverbelor, cu obţinerea efectelor ironice: Minciuna are picoare
scurte şi totuşi, uneori, adevărul şchioapătă sau Ţara arde, dar nu se predă
(www.adevărul.ro);
- modelalarea pe tipare paremiologice a unor adevărate variante: La aşa ştiri, aşa
public) (Dilema veche, III,nr.109, 24 feb. – 2 mart. 2006, p.3) – recunoaştem modelul : La
aşa stăpân, aşa slugă; exemplele care urmează se regăsesc în textul articolului:
Maculatura rămâne tot maculatură, fie că e finanţată cu bani de stat, precum „Era
socialistă”, fie cu bani privaţi. (România literară, nr. 14/7 aprilie 2006) – modelul este
evident Prostu-i prost , nu ai ce-i face; un alt exemplu: Într-o abordare strict instituţională
(cât de firească, în fond!) „dosarul” statuii lui Caragiale ar fi riscat să zacă şi să se
prăfuiască în vreun dulap la Ministerul Culturii, lăsându-ne tuturor, mai mult ca sigur,
gustul amar al inutilităţii... Aşa cum de atâtea ori s-a întâmplat, se întâmplă şi se va
întâmpla căci, vorba Maestrului – încă de la 1894: Reforma trece, năravurile rămân!
(Dilema veche, III,nr.109, 24 feb. – 2 mart. 2006, p.21) recunoaştem modelul Apa trece,
pietrele rămân;
- substituirea unui cuvânt sau adăugarea unor determinanţi inexistenţi în textul
atestat al proverbului, ajungându-se la variante provenite prin modificarea structurii
proverbului: Câte bordeluri, atâtea obiceiuri (Dilema veche, II, nr.87, 16. – 22 septembrie
2005, p.1), în care se recunoaşte proverbul Câte bordeie, atâtea obiceie; Laptele neprins,
negustor cinstit (www.adevărul.ro); Nimeni nu e mai presus de care lege? (Dilema veche,
III, nr.109, 24 feb. – 2 mart. 2006, p.4);
- fragmentarea proverbului în titlu, articolul respectiv fiind, prin conţinut,
dezvoltarea părţii care lipseşte din proverbul titlu: Cu un ochi mă bucur....
....dar cu celălalt plâng.. (Dilema veche, III,nr.109, 24 feb. – 2 mart. 2006, p.21)textul
articolului despre reamplasarea satuiei dramaturgului I.L.Caragiale în peisajul
capitalei, începe chiar cu continuarea proverbului;
- combinarea de procedee, la fragmentarea proverbului adăugându-se o „replică”,
situaţie des întâlnită şi în corpus: Cu un ochi mă bucur....
....dar cu celălalt plâng. Şi vă garantez că n-ar fi cu putinţă altfel. Cutez chiar a
spune că, dacă aş avea patru ochi, unul singur şi-ar permite să râdă, iar ceilalţi trei şi-ar
lăcrima tristeţea... mai departe. (Dilema veche, III,nr.109, 24 feb. – 2 mart. 2006, p.21).
Un alt exemplu: La pomul lăudat...
De data asta, la pomul lăudat merită să mergi cu un sac mare, pentru că fiecare
va găsi cu ce să-l umple. N-au rămas prea multe documente în legătură cu Pomul Verde,
primul teatru de limba idiş din lume, înfiinţat de Avram Goldfaden la Iaşi, în 1878.
(România literară, nr. 7/22 – 28 februarie 2006) – dezvoltarea titlului contrazice forma
cunoscută a proverbului:La pomul lăudat să nu mergi cu sacul.
Prin astfel de procedee se realizează nu numai utilizarea proverbelor în discursuri
de diverse tipuri, dar şi creaţii de elemente noi. Exemplele de mai sus, la care s-ar mai
putea adăuga multe altele, sunt suficiente pentru a demonstra „atât capacitatea
performativă a tiparelor proverbiale,cât şi expansiunea proverbului din varianta în care
structural şi cronologic a luat naştere”. (Tabarcea, 1982: 55).
Cu toate acestea, rămân cu statut de proverbe numai acele texte care îndeplinesc
cerinţele „stilului proverbial”, formulate de Cezar Tabarcea (1982:83 – 84), şi anume:
- Proverbul este un enunţ lingvistic, adică o secvenţă fonică limitată prin pauze şi
caracterizată printr-un contur intonaţional, care poartă o anumită informaţie semantică,
fiind deci o comunicare.
6

- Proverbul cuprinde în formularea sa o structură logico semantică particulară, fixă.
Operând orice modificare a aceteia (substituiri, permutări), enunţul respectiv nu mai este
recunoscut ca proverb, ci este perceput ca un „joc verbal”.
- Proverbul este o expresie recurentă (o „izolare”) a cărei apariţie în discurs este
marcată prin elemente segmentale specializate cu rolul de a schimba planul de referinţă,
sau prin procedee suprasegmentale: pauze semnificative, intonaţii specifice; intră aici toate
„mărcile introductive” ale proverbului, care semnalizează receptorului introducerea unei
secvenţe deosebite faţă de enunţul care formează macro-textul.
- În momentul enunţării sale, proverbul se referă metaforic la o situaţie (concretă
sau transpusă într-un enunţ lingvistic). În afara enunţării propriu-zise, el denumeşte şi
defineşte o clasă de împrejurări concrete, folosind trăsăturile acestora extrase prin
generalizare, pe care le lexicalizează şi înglobează în expresia sa. Interpretarea denotativă a
enunţului proverb sau absenţa mărcilor introductive dezorganizează întreaga semantică a
discursului în care proverbul se intercalează şi are ca efect redundanţe nefuncţionale.(În
proverbe se regăsesc toate figurile de stil pe care retoricile le enumeră în mod curent.)
În lucrarea citată (Tabarcea, 1982: 205) se atrage atenţia asupra faptului că
proverbele pot apărea fără a perturba comunicarea în texte aparţinând diverselor stiluri
funcţionale, pentru că autorii recurg la anumite „strategii” din dorinţa de a-şi câştiga
publicul. Prezenţa proverbului în diverse tipuri de comunicare, în diverse limbaje este
posibilă dacă se acceptă conţinutul şi funcţia practică a acestuia.
Concepţia modernă asupra stilurilor funcţionale nu mai impune necesitatea unui stil
„pur”, iar introducerea conceptului de „idiostil” care „nu poate exista decât în măsura în
care include măcar două limbaje diferite” (Coteanu,1975:81), elimină această condiţie; în
timp ce retorica tradiţională presupune poziţia emiţătorului numai ca reprezentant al unui
stil dat, pre-existent şi normat, stilistica funcţională, pornind de la distincţia langue/parole,
vede la vorbitor un proces de codificare pe baza cunoaşterii întregului sistem al limbii. Ca
urmare, proverbul poate fi considerat ca element al unui idiostil, ceea ce înlătură
necesitatea unui domeniu specific pe care ar trebui să-l acopere stilul proverbial, stil care
poate fi prezent la orice vorbitor şi în orice domeniu de activitate.
Bibliografie
Andriescu, Al., (1979), Limba presei româneşti în secolul al XIX-lea, Editura Junimea, Iaşi
Coteanu, Ion, (1973), Stilistica funcţională a limbii române. Stil,stilistică, limbaj, Editura Academiei R.S.R.,
Bucureşti
Ruxăndoiu, Pavel, (1966), „Aspectul metaforic al proverbelor”, în Studii de poetică şi stilistică, Bucureşti
Tabarcea, Cezar, (1982), Poetica proverbului, Editura Minerva, Bucureşti
Abstract
A proverb is, first of all, an act of language. The creation of the proverb-text is related
to the existence of ’proverbial patterns’, which allows for the extension of their usage
from the colloquial and familiar styles, in the journalistic jargon, in advertising slogans
and in the work of certain writers. Based on these aspects one can speak of a ”closed”
proverbial style, but with an ”overt” corpus which the current paper approaches.
Résumé
Avant toute autre chose, le proverbe est un acte de langage. La création d’un
proverbe-text est liée de l’existence des‚ modèles proverbiales qui assurent l’extension
de leurs utilisation du style colloquial au style familier, l’argot journalier, des formules
publicitaires et dans l’oeuvre de certains auteurs. En vertu de ces aspects on peut
parler d’un style proverbial „ferme”, mais avec un corpus „ouvert” que l’article vient
d’illustrer.
7

Rezumat
Proverbul este, înainte de orice, un fapt de limbă. Apariţia textului-proverb este legată
de existenţa unor „tipare proverbiale”, ceea ce permite extinderea folosirii lor din limbajul
popular familiar, în limbajul jurnalistic, în sloganurile publicitare şi în opera anumitor scriitori.
În virtutea acestor aspecte se poate vorbi de un stil proverbial „închis”, dar cu un corpus
„deschis”, pe care articolul de faţă îl ilustrează.
8

Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of GALAŢI
Fascicle XIII. New Series.
Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006
pp. 9 - 13
K. ISHIGURO’S THE REMAINS OF THE DAY:
FOREGROUNDING AND OPENNESS OF MEANING
Introduction: On figure and ground
Ruxanda Bontilă
9
Language
and
Literature
It is common knowledge that the notion of figure and ground is a central concept in
cognitive linguistics, which also means that it has been used to develop a detailed
grammatical framework for close analysis, as well as very abstract ideas across whole
discourses (see van Peer, 1993; also Short, 1996; also Stockwell, 2002 and 2003). It is also
acknowledged that the phenomenon of figure and ground relates to the literary critical
notion of foregrounding. The latter refers to how we perceive certain aspects of literary
texts as being conspicuously more important or salient than others. This is being achieved
at textual level by such devices as repetition, unusual naming, innovative descriptions,
creative syntactic ordering, puns, rhyme, the use of creative metaphor, and so on. These
devices are meant as attention attractors to some element, foregrounding it against the
relief of the rest of the features of the text. The principles of prominence and newness work
towards focusing attention on a particular feature/ character/ setting, within the textual
space. According to Stockwell, there is a dynamic relationship between the processes of
figuring and grounding, as elements of the text are thrown into relief in the course of
reading or actualising the text. By a constant renewal of the figure and ground relationship,
the text works against the inhibition of return, i.e. the loss of attention to static or
unchanging elements (2002: 14-19). Still, we also think that any description of a text is
one’s personal option of choosing out of a multitude of details and textual
interrelationships those that have been placed in the foreground of the text itself. We
consider that a text can be unlocked with the key offered by the interplay of emphases
amongst its parts and partial elements. This can become a guarantee of one successful
decoding from the part of the reader that will make him go on reading the text. That is why
our argument is meant to prove that the constant interplay at any given moment between
openness of meaning and strategies of foregrounding represents a vital aspect of textuality.
Much debate has been given to the theory of foregrounding since its
conceptualisation by the Russian Formalists and Prague Structuralists. Subsequently, it has
developed into a systematic coherent theory with immediate relevance for the literary texts
by describing the linguistic mechanisms involved in concrete cases of foregrounding.
Willie van Peer focuses in his study on foregrounding, upon the central
characteristic of this notion, namely “the characteristics, typically encountered in literary
texts of deviating from rules and habits, while at the same time displaying unusual
regularity through partial repetition” (1993: 50), that is both deviance and parallelism. The
former device refers to “deviation” as introduced in a text through neologisms, archaisms,
metaphors, paradox, and hyperbaton – functioning as a disruption to the linguistic
expectations we approach a text with. The latter device refers to “parallelism” such as
syntactic symmetry, doublets, ellipsis, and semantic contrast – functioning as

einforcement due to the degree of extra regularity brought in by means of repeated
elements.
Foregrounding may occur at any level: phonological, grammatical, semantic and
pragmatic. In each case, the effect is one of “heightened psychological attention” (Peer,
1993: 50) as a particular referent is established in the foreground of consciousness while
other discourse referents remain in the background.
Hopper and Thomson have argued that foregrounded clauses are high in
“transitivity, a complex notion involving verb tense or aspect, the number of participants in
the clause and their case roles as well as other grammatical factors” (qtd. in Brown, 1983:
165).
We certainly do not profess that the reader should be baffled by theories and
concepts to highlight her/his awareness of the text, since any moment in a text beyond the
immediate beginning and close, can and must be read both prospectively and
retrospectively.
However, it remains for us to prove that even beginnings tend to be open and to
indicate significant emphases. This is readily apparent with the opening paragraph of K.
Ishiguro’s novel The Remains of the Day — the winner of the 1989 Booker Prize.
Foregrounding and textual interrelationships: an exemplary beginning
Our argument intends to demonstrate how through a technique of foreshadowing, the
thematic hypersignification of the novel’s larger discourse discloses itself from the very
first paragraph. In other words we will try to highlight how the very beginning of the novel
may suggest the outcome of the novel, thus ensuring the structural and thematic unity of
the whole.
It seems increasingly likely that I really will undertake the expedition that has been
preoccupying my imagination now for some days. (1) An expedition, I should say, which I
will undertake alone, in the comfort of Mr. Farraday’s Ford; an expedition which, as I
foresee it, will take me through much of the finest countryside of England to the West
Country, and may keep me away from Darlington Hall for as much as five or six days. (2)
The idea of such a journey came about, I should point out, from a most kind suggestion put
to me by Mr Farraday himself one afternoon almost a fortnight ago, when I had been
dusting the portraits in the library. (3) In fact, as I recall, I was up on the step-ladder
dusting the portrait of Viscount Wetherby when my employer had entered carrying a few
volumes which he presumably wished returned to the shelves. (4) On seeing my person, he
took the opportunity to inform me that he had just that moment finalised plans to return to
the United States for a period of five weeks between August and September. (5) Having
made this announcement, my employer put his volumes down on a table, seated himself on
the chaise longue, and stretched out his legs. (6) It was then, gazing up at me, that he said:
[...] (7) (Ishiguro, 1989: 3).
The “turbulence as immense as it is slow” (Rushdie, 1991: 34) lying below the
understatement of the novel’s surface is envisaged through a masterful handling of
foregrounding strategies. The very first extraposition of a clausal subject in the opening
line signals a brilliant subversion of the fictional modes to which the novel seems to align.
It further signals that the novel’s larger discourse will move back to a previous point in
time to attempt to explain this present moment. The formal stiffness and stillness
introduced through the phrase “It seems increasingly likely” (1) will become crucial both
for understanding the narrator – narratee relationship and the major theme of the novel.
10

The existence of two subjects, which we may identify as the postponed subject (the
clause which is notionly the subject of the sentence) and the anticipatory subject (“it”)
pinpoints the coexistence of an experiencing mode and an observing mode within the
narrative voice, the “I” – speaker, which is both narrator and participant.
The objectifying of the first person narrator through language on the syntagmatic axis
[”my imagination” (1); “I will undertake alone”; “it will take me”; “may keep me away”
(2); “suggestion put to me (3); “my employer” (4); “my person”; “to inform me” (5); “my
employer” (6); “gazing at me” (7) ] is also apparent in the way the writer makes the
speaker relate his own centre to the surrounding cognitive environment. This is controlled
through a range of deictic elements encoding the spatio – temporal context and subjective
experience of the encoder. The way mental proximity and distance is deictically encoded in
the discourse event is another instance of foregrounding both grammatically and lexically
[“the expedition” (1); “An expedition” (2); “now for some days” (1); “as I foresee it” (2);
“The idea of such a journey” (3); “one afternoon almost a fortnight ago” (3); “On seeing”
(5); “he had just that moment finalised” (5); “a period of five weeks” (5); “It was then”
(7)].
The choice of words on the paradigmatic axis is also significant to the purpose of
foreshadowing the central theme of the novel: the dichotomy appearance / reality, seeming
/ being, extrapolated from the real story of a man (Stevens, a butler well past his prime)
destroyed by his own ideas upon which he has built his life, to the more serious issue of the
end or at least passing of a certain kind of Britain and Englishness. The word “expedition”
(1, 2), carries a connotation (exploration, warfare, purpose) which through foregrounding
is immediately brought to the reader’s awareness; “journey” (3), its extensive doublet
deters the former word’s meaning from becoming too conspicuous, exactly as all the big
questions “preoccupying” the hero’s mind are deterred from getting the answers the hero
feels his duty to give. The word “imagination” (1) is an instance of semantic contrast on
the paradigmatic axis which together with the semantic charge embedded in the process
verb “undertake” (1, 2) will point to the time and space of the action. Moreover, the right-
branching of the foregrounded sentences beginning with the complement “expedition” (2),
preceded by the indefinite article with anaphoric function could also be regarded like a
deictic element in the multitude of textual interrelationships.
The complexities of modality, both epistemic and deontic are carried out at both
paradigmatic and syntagmatic levels. At the paradigmatic level, through the choice of
words pertaining to modality [“seems increasingly likely” (1); “really”; “will” (1); “should
say”; “will”; “will” “may” (2); “should” (3); “presumably” ; “wished” (4)]. At the
syntagmatic level, the interruptions caused in discourse through apparently overformal
asides carry that supplementary deictic function of sharing experience, negotiating
meaning between narrator and reader [“I should say” (2); “as I foresee it” (2); “I should
point out” (3); “as I recall” (4)]. Further more, they ensure the coherence of the discourse,
trapping the reader into a more active and imaginative engagement with the text, due to
more implicit cohesive ties. The so far achieved congruence of the text is also a modality
of increasing awareness as to the understatement of a perfectly smooth, not-important-type
of narration.
The more immobile everything looks, the more devastating it is perceived by the
experiencing narrator. The “time-hallowed bonds between master and servant, and the
codes by which both live, are no longer dependable absolutes but rather sources of ruinous
self deceptions,” opinions Rushdie (1991: 37).
11

Alongside with such cohesive devices as substitutions, repetitions, embedding, there are
more overt connections used at the syntagmatic level: subordination [“that” (1); “which”
(2); “when” (3, 4); “On seeing” (5); “Having made” (6)]; or conjuncts, “In fact” (4),
indicating the connection between what is being said and what was said before.
Regarding the value of tense and aspect they may have relevance when speaking about
coding time, content time and receiving time, but most of all with a view to foreshadowing
the hypersignification of the larger discourse.
The staccato rhythm imposed by the paradigmatic choices as well as the hyperbaton
cause – effect phenomenon of foregrounding, is also relevant for the textual
interrelationships.
As “Still (or smooth) waters run deep”, there is a lot the reader has to ask himself after
the first paragraph of the novel: Who is the “I” unfolding so neatly and conscientiously the
ideas “preoccupying” his “imagination”? What is the real nature of “the expedition” which
is thrown into focus by the anaphoric and cataphoric “It” beginning the sentence? Who is
Mr. Farraday in whose Ford the speaker will undertake the expedition alone? What is their
relationship? What does “Darlington Hall” represent to the narrator that he may feel kept
away from it, be it only for five or six days? Why does the narrator have to foresee the
finest countryside of England?
The verb tenses recede one by one into the past [“seems”; “will undertake”; “has been
preoccupying”; “came”; “had been dusting”; “was”; “had entered”; “took the opportunity”;
“had finalized”; “put”; “; “seated” “stretched”; “said”], inverting text order and story order
and suggesting a sequence of conflicts prior to the present time temporal adverb “now”
from sentence one.
All these details on both paradigmatic and syntagmatic axes are meant to open
discourse up towards story and hypersignification, highlighting ways of opening meaning
within the novel.
Concluding remarks
“You see, I trusted [...]. I can’t even say I made my own mistakes. Really— one has to ask
oneself — what dignity is there in that?” (Ishiguro, 1989: 243)
Is our argument together with the expedition, intensively and extensively foregrounded
by the author, to acquire the same cruelly beautiful question/ answer conclusion?
The point is that we tried to show how Kazuo Ishiguro through an apparently obscuring
surface, manages to disclose a complex of attitudes and emotions, thus opening meaning
through technique; how through congruence amongst paradigmatic choices and
syntagmatic and grammatical cohesion the author manages at once to conceal and disclose
the implicit relationship between fallible narrator and self-deceptive narrate.
References
Brown, G. (1983). Discourse Analysis, Cambridge University Press.
Ishiguro, K. (1989). The Remains of the Day, London, Boston: Faber and Faber.
Peer, W. van (1993). Typographic Foregrounding, Language and Literature, 2/1, 49-61.
Rushdie, S. (1991). Imaginary Homelands. Essays and Criticism 1981-199, London: Granta Books.
Short, M. (1996) Exploring the Language of Poems, Plays and Prose, London: Longman.
Stockwell, P. (2002). Cognitive Poetics, London, New York: Routledge.
Stockwell, P. (2003). Surreal figures. In Gavins, J. and G. Steen (eds.), Cognitive poetics in practice, (pp. 13-
27), London, New York: Routledge.
12

Abstract
In what concerns the literary text, the renewal of the dynamics of stylistic markers, the so-called
attractors, represents the key to focusing the reader’s attention and hindering the inhibition of
return (Stockwell, 2002). What we used to call “literary competence” has become, according to
the cognitive poeticians, experimental learning of competency and assuming control over the way
in which the reader’s attention in the textual game between figuring and grounding is being
achieved. Our present argument centers on how foregrounding strategies contributing to
literariness are inductive of narrative hypersignification too.
Résumé
Dans le cas du texte littéraire, le renouvèlement de la dynamique des particularités stylistiques,
ce qu’on appelle attracteurs (Stockwell, 2002), représente la clef du succès dans la focalisation
de l’attention du lecteur et l’inhibition de la défocalisation. Ce qu’on appelait traditionnellement
« compétence littéraire », les poètes cognitivistes appellent aujourd’hui apprentissage
expérimental de la compétence et contrôle sur la manière de focalisation de l’attention dans le
jeu textuel entre figure et arrière-plan. Notre travail se propose de démontrer que les stratégies
de mise en évidence (foregrounding, ayant comme effet l’induction de la littérarité, aident à la
construction de l’hypersignification roumaine.
Rezumat
În cazul textului literar, reînnoirea dinamicii particularităţilor stilistice, aşa numiţii atractori
(Stockwell, 2002), reprezintă cheia succesului în focalizarea atenţiei lectorului şi inhibarea
defocalizării. Ceea ce tradiţional se numea „competenţă literară”, poeticienii cognitivişti numesc
acum învăţare experimentală a competenţei dar şi control asupra modului de focalizare a atenţiei
în jocul textual între figură şi fundal. Demonstratia noastră îşi propune să dovedeasca că
strategiile de evidenţiere (foregrounding) ce au ca efect inducerea literarităţii ajută la
construirea hipersemnificaţiei romaneşti.
13

Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of GALAŢI
Fascicle XIII. New Series.
Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006
pp. 14 - 22
HUMOR UND KATEGORISIERUNG
Raluca Bourceanu
14
Language
and
Literature
I. Bedeutungsaufbau in der kongnitiven Semantik
Auggangspunkt jedes Versuchs, erklärende Schemas des Bedeutungsmechanismus zu
entwickeln, ist die Inanspruchnahme der Beziehungen zwischen Sprache und Wirklichkeit.
Die kognitive Linguistik, die als Reaktion gegen das formale Modell der Sprachanalyse
entstanden ist, geht davon aus, dass Sprache Gedankenschnitte widerspiegelt, woraus sich
ergibt, dass Studium von Sprachen Studium von Konzeptualisierungsschnitte heißt.
Während die formale Semantik von der Voraussetzung ausgeht, dass die Grundfunktion
der Sprache die Beschreibung einer objektiven Realität ist und diese Beziehung zwischen
Sprache und Wirklichkeit von den Wahrheitsbediengungen modelliert sein kann, besagt
die kognitive Semantik, dass Sprache an sich keine Bedeutung kodiert. Wörter stellen
demzufolge nur eine Art « Fenster » für die Bedeutungsaufbau dar. Laut dieser Ansicht
wird die Bedeutung auf dem konzeptuellen Niveu aufgebaut, indem Bedeutungsaufbau mit
dem Konzeptualisierungverfahren gleichzusetzen ist.
Man kann sich die Frage stellen, wie kommt es vor, dass wir uns doch in der Welt
zurechtfinden, wenn die Struktur, die Kategorien und Eigenschaften der Sprache keine
Entsprechungen in der Wirklichkeit haben. « By viewing meaning as the relationship
between words and the world, truth-conditional semantics eliminates cognitive
organization from the linguistic system” (Sweester 1990:4). Dagegn begreifen die
Kognitivisten die Bedeutung als Offenbarung einer konzeptuellen Struktur: “Research on
cognitive semantics is research on conceptual content and its organization in language”
(Talmy 2000: 4). Es gibt vier Grundannahmen der kognitiven Semantik hinsichtlich des
Bedeutungsaufbaus, die für unsere Absicht, Sprchhumor durch Kategorienfehler zu
erklären, grundlegend sind. Es geht um die Prinzipien der verkörperten konzeptuellen
Struktur, der Gleichsetzung der semantischen mit der konzeptuellen Struktur, der
enzyklopädischen Bedeutungrepräsentierung und der Annahme, dass Bedeutungsaufbau
Konzeptualisierung heißt.
Bedeutung wird also weder als Eigenschaft indvidueller Aussagen, noch als
einfache Sache deren Interpretation hinsichtlich der Außenwelt betrachtet. Hingegen
entsteht Bedeutung aus einem dynamischen Prozeß des Bedeutungsaufbaus, der
Konzeptualisierung benannt wird. Demzufolge darf Semantik von der Pragmatik nicht
getrennt werden, da auf der einen Seite Bedeutungsaufbau vom Kontext der Äußerung
abhängig ist und auf der anderen Seite Bedeutungsaufbau sich auf einigen Mechanismen
der konzeptuellen Projektion (etwa Metapher und Metonymie) stützt. Laut dieser
Einstellung existiert doch die Außenwelt, die Art und Weise aber, wie man sich mental die
Welt vorstellt, hängt direkt mit der verkörperten Erfahrung zusammen. Was zu sagen heißt,
dass Bedeutungsaufbau nicht in Richtung eines ‘matching-up’ der Aussagen mit objektiv
definierbaren ‘states of affairs’ vorangeht, sondern in Richtung der Konzeptualisierung
eines enzyklopädischen Wissens. Man kann daher sagen, dass einerseits die semantische
Struktur die konventionelle Form ist, die die konzeptuelle Struktur beim Einkodieren in die

Sprache einnimmt und, dass sie andererseits einen Gehalt eingelagerten Wissens darstellt,
der durch die Sprache einfach reflektiert wird. Die in die Sprache einkodierten
Bedeutungen sind nur partielle und unvollständige Repräsentierungen der konzeptuellen
Struktur. Während die Repräsentierung dieser Erfahrungen, die unser konzeptuelles
System ausmachen, weniger detaillert als die Wahrnehmungserfahrungen selbst ist, sind
die durch die semantische Struktur einkodierten Repräntationen noch ärmer an Details.
Sprache kodiert doch Bedeutung ein, diese Bedeutung ist aber verarmt und gilt als
‘Fenster’ für den Aufbau von reicheren Konzeptualisierungvorgängen Seite des Hörers:
“Expressions do not mean; they are prompts for us to construct meanings by working with
processes we already known. In no sense is the meaning of an utterance ‘right there in the
words.’ When we understand an utterance, we in no sense are understanding ‘just what the words
say’; the words themselves say nothing independent of the richly detailed knowledge and
powerful cognitive processes we bring to bear.” (Turner, 1991:206)
Bevor wir anhand eines Beispiels die Relevaz der bis hier besprochenen Phänomene
zeigen, ist es wichtig Fauconniers Bedeutungsaufbau-Theorie zu erwähnen, die im engen
Zusammenhang mit der Problematik der Deutbarkeit steht. Laut Fauconnier setzt der
Bedeutungsaufbau zwei Verfahren aus: 1. den Aufbau von ‘mental spaces’; und 2. das
Etablieren von ‘mappings’ zwischen diesen ‘mental spaces’. Fauconnier definiert die
‘mental spaces’ als “partial structures that proliferate when we think and talk, allowing a
fine-grained partitioning of our discourse and knowledge structure” (Fauconnier, 1997:11).
Außerdem werden diese Mapping-Beziehungen vom jeweiligen Kontext beeinflußt, was zu
verstehen läßt, dass Bedeutungsaufbau immer kontextabhängig ist. Man kann sagen, dass
man eigentlich mit zwei Bedeutungsvarianten zu tun hat. Zum einen geht es um die
konventionelle Bedeutung, die mit einem bestimmten Wort oder einer bestimmten
Konstruktion asoziiert wird (kodierte Bedeutung), zum anderen handelt es sich um die
Bedeutung, die der Kontext ausmacht (pragmatische Bedeutung). Da aber Wörter immer
wieder in Kontexte hervorkommen, stellt die kodierte Bedeutung eine Idealisierung
aufgrund der prototypischen Bedeutung, die man aus der kontextualisierten Verwendung
der Wörter herauskriegt. Eigentlich schließt die mit den Wörtern assoziierte Bedeutung
immer die pragmatische Bedeutung ein, während kodierte Bedeutung nur eine Bekundung
dieser prototypischen Bedeutung, die aus der Menge der pragmatischen Interpretationen
abstrahiert wird, darstellt.
Zusammenfassend werden wird sagen, dass Sprache das Wahrnehmen voraussetzt
und, dass Wahrnehmen zur Konzeptualisierung führt. Die Sprache setzt also nicht nur
intelligente Wesen, sondern auch einen kognitiven Zugang dieser Wesen zur Welt voraus.
Die sinnliche Wahrnehmung ist es, die die sprachliche Repräsentation ermöglicht, denn
ohne Wahrnehmung gibt es keine Kognition. Die Sprache macht demzufolge von den
kognitiven Leistungen der Wahrnehmung wesentlich Gebrauch, da die Dinge, über die wir
reden, von uns ursprünglich durch die Wahrnehmung ausgemacht und indentifiziert
werden. Die Wahrnehmung liefert uns Informationen über deren Attribute, die wir in der
Sprache festhalten. Wahrnehmungen sind verkörpert, oder anders gesagt ist Sprache
zentriert. Alle Sprechenden sind kompakte Körper, die die umliegende Welt von einem
räumlich sehr begrenzten Standpunkt aus wahrnehmen. Was der Bedeutungsaufbau im
Bezug auf den Kategorisierungsverfahren betrifft, muß man noch hinzufuegen, Searle
folgend, dass, während eine Wahrnehmung etwas präsentiert, die Kategorisierung
repräsentiert. Es handelt sich dabei um die Präsentierung oder die Erfahrung unmittelbarer
Wahrnehmung, die dann auf der Konzeptualisierungsebene zur Repräsentierung der
mittelbaren Kategorisierung führt.
Um zu zeigen, inwieweit dieses kognitive Bedeutungsmodell mit anderen
Bereichen der Kognition übereinstimmend ist und inwieweit es zu einer Humoranalyse
beitragen könnte, werden wir im folgenden ein Beispiel nehmen. Wenn man auf die Frage
15

“Wo ist die Katze” durch “Die Katze ist auf dem Stuhl” antwortet, befinden wir und vor
einem Normalfall, der neutral klingt. Wenn man aber hingegen dieselbe Frage durch “Der
Stuhl ist unter der Katze” beantwortet, wird man bestimmt Humor, wenn nicht Erstaunen
auslösen. Warum sollte denn diese Antwort merkwürdig und witzig klingen? Es ist eine
grammatisch perfekt aufgebaute Aussage. Die Kognitivisten könnten die Sache durch das
Einbeziehen der Ergebnisse der Psychologie erklären. Wir wissen also, dass die Menschen
die Tendenz haben, ihre Aufmerksamkeit auf besimmte Aspekte einer visuellen Buehne zu
fokusieren. Der Blickpunkt, den wir fokusieren, stellt etwas dar, was uns erlaubt,
bestimmte Voraussagen zu formulieren. In unserem Beispiel richten wir unsere
Aufmerksamkeit eher auf die Katze und nicht auf den Stuhl, weil unser Weltwissen sagt
uns, dass es wahrscheinlicher ist, dass die Katze, und nicht der Stuhl, sich bewegen, ein
Geräusch oder irgend etwas machen wird. Man nennt diese hervortretende Entität die
‘Figur’ und den restlichen Teil der Bühne ‘Hintergrund’. Diese Tatsache der menschlichen
Psychologie gibt uns auch eine Erklärung dafür, warum Sprache die Information auf eine
bestimmte Weise einpackt. Ein anderer Aspekt, der auch im kommenden Teil unseres
Aufsatzes wesentlich ist und mit der Problematik der Kategorisierung eng verbunden ist,
wird durch ein anderes Phänomaen erklärt, nämlich durch das ‘profiling’, das uns erlaubt,
Aufmerksamkeit umzuschalten.
II. Kategorisierung
In diesem Teil unserer Arbeit werden wir uns mit der Problematik des
Kategorisierungsverfahren beschäftigen, die eine zentrale Rolle in unserer Humoranalyse
spielt. Kategorisierung entspricht unserer Fähigkeit, Ähnlichkeiten (und Unterschiede)
zwischen verschiedenen Entitäten zu identifizieren uns sie, aufgrund dieses kognitiven
Prozeßes zusammenzubringen. Kategorien sind demzufolge wesentliche Elemente, die sich
an der Organisation unserer Erfahrung beteiligen. Die klassische Forschungsrichtung, die
auf Aristoteles zuräckzuführen ist, geht von der Idee aus, dass Kategorisierung auf der
Basis gemeinsamer Eigenschaften erzeugt wird und, dass die Mitglieder einer Kategorie
die gleichen Merkmale aufweisen. Bevor wir die von Rosch entwickelte Prototyp-Theorie
besprechen, werden wir uns mit der klassischen Ansicht auseinandersetzen, um dann
feststellen zu können, warum sie mit der Realität der kognitiven menschlichen Erfahrung
nicht übereinstimmt.
Die aristotelische Kategorisierung zeichnet sich bekanntlich durch mindestens drei
Merkmale aus: (i) die Zugehörigkeit zu einer Kategorie erfolgt auf der Grundlage von
notwendigen und hinreichenden Kriterien, (ii) jede Kategorie hat klare Grenzen; (iii) jedes
Element einer Kategorie hat denselben Status wie jedes andere. Es gibt mehrere Probleme
mit dieser Theorie, die wir besprechen werden. Auf der einen Seite behauptet sie im Bezug
auf das ertse Merkmal (i), dass Kategorien eine definitorische Struktur zugeschrieben wird,
was in der Wirklichkeit nicht gilt, da es unheimlich schwer ist, präzise Kriterien
herauszufinden, die notwendig und hinreichend bei dem Etablieren einer Kategorie sind.
Es genügt, die berühmte Behauptung Wittgensteins über die Spiele zu erwähnen, um die
inhärente Schwieriegkeit dieses Verfahrens zu zeigen:
“Wir sehen ein kompliziertes Netz von Ähnlichkeiten, die einander übergreifen und kreuzen.
Ähnlichkeiten im Großen und Kleinen. Ich kann diese Ähnlichkeiten nicht besser
charakterisieren, als durch das Wort "Familienähnlichkeiten"; denn so übergreifen und kreuzen
sich die verschiedenen Ähnlichkeiten, die zwischen den Gliedern einer Familie bestehen: Wuchs,
Gesichtszüge, Augenfarbe, Gang, Temperament, etc. etc..–Und ich werde sagen: die ‘Spiele’
bilden eine Familie“.
Rosch und Mervis kondensieren Wittgensteins Gedanken zu folgender schematischen
Form:“A family resemblance relationship consists of a set of items of the form AB, BC,
16

CD, DE. That is, each item has at least one, and probably several, elements in common
with one or more other items, but no, or few, elements are common to all items.” Zweitens
besteht das Problems der klassischen Theorie darin, dass sie die Tatsache voraussetzt, dass
jede Kategorie klare und endgültige Grenzen hat (ii). Bei der Diskussion dieses
Standpunkts muß man immer die Abgrenzung der Volk-Kategorien von den Expert-
Kategorien im Auge halten.Wenn man die Kategorie der ungeraden Zahlen betrachtet,
wird man feststellen, dass diese Kategorie doch klar definierte Grenzen hat. Mitglieder
dieser Kategorie sind jene Zahlen, die nicht (ohne Rest) durch 2 teilbar sind. Das gilt aber
nicht mehr im Bezug auf die Kategorie “Möbel” zum Beispiel, wobei es schwer zu
entscheiden ist, ob sagen wir Teppich dazu gehört oder nicht. Drittens werden die
Schwachheiten dieser Theorie im Bezug auf die letzte Grundannahme sichtbar, die besagt,
dass jeder Mitglieder einer Kategorie mit jedem anderen gleichwertig sei. Dagegen kann
man Armstrong et al. (1983) Experimenten aufrufen, die bewiesen haben, dass sich
sogenannte prototypische Effekte innerhalb einer Kategorie bemerken laßen. Armstrong
stellte fest, das Versuchspersonen gerade und ungerade Zahlen nicht als gleichwertige
Mitglieder der jeweiligen Kategorien bewertet haben, sondern, dass es in beiden Fällen
Prototypen dieser Kategorien gibt. Was die ungeraden Zahlen angeht, wurde 3 als der
repräsentativeste Mitglieder betrachtet, was die geraden Zahlen hingegen betrifft, handelte
es sich um 2 und 4. Aufgrund der Unterscheidung zwischen Volk – und Experts-
Kategorien erklärt Armstrong diese Ergebnisse durch den Zusammenhang zwischen ‘core
definition’ und ‘identification procedure’, wie Osheron und Smith behaupten:
“the core of a concept is concerned with those aspects of a concept that explicate its relations to
other concepts, and to thoughts, while the identification procedure specifies the kind of
information used to make rapid decisions about membership. […] We can illustrate with the
concept woman. Its core might contain information about the presence of a reproductive system,
while its identification procedures might contain information about body shape, hair length, and
voice pitch.” (Osheron and Smith 1981:57).
Obwohl diese Erklärung die klassische Kategorisierungstheorie mit der der
Kategorisierung durch Prototype zu versöhnen scheint, bleibt doch eine Tension zwischen
die prototypischen Effekte der (un)geraden Zahlen und unsere klare Intuition, dass
(un)gerade Zahlen keine vage, sondern eine klar begrenzte Kategorie darstellt. Man könnte
vielleicht das Problem besser lösen, wenn man Langackers Unterschied zwischen
Kategorisierung durch Prototypen und Kategorisierung durch Schemas erwähnt:
“A prototype is a typical instance of a category, and other elements are assimilated to the
category on the basis of their perceived resemblance to the prototype; there are degrees of
membership based on degrees of similarity. A schema, by contrast, is an abstract
characterization that is fully compatible with all the members of the category it defines (so
membership is not a matter of degree); it is an integrated structure that embodies the
commonality of its members, which are conceptions of greater specificity and detail that
elaborate the schema in contrasting ways” (Langacker 1987:371).
In den 70en Jahren wurde die klassische Theorie dank den von Rosch geführten
Experimenten und deren Ergebnisse in Frage gestellt. Die Prototyptheorie postuliert, dass
es zwei Grundprinzipien gibt, die die Bildung von Kategorien bestimmen: 1) das Prinzip
der kognitiven Ökonomie und 2) das Prinzip der wahrgenommenen Weltstruktur. Das erste
Prinzip legt fest, dass der Mensch versucht, so viel Information wie möglich über seine
Umgebung zu gewinnen, indem er gleichzeitig seine kognitive Bemühungen und
Ressourcen auf ein Minimum bringt. Diese Kosten-Nutzen- Balance bestimmt den Aufbau
von Kategorien. Anstatt separate Informationen über jeden erfahrenen individuellen
Stimulus abzuspeichern, gruppiert der Mensch ähnliche Stimuli in Kategorien ein. Was das
zweite Prinzip angeht, handelt es sich um die korelationelle Struktur der Welt. Es ist zum
Beispiel eine Tatsache, dass Flügel eher mit Federn und der Fähigkeit zum Fliegen
assoziiert werden, als mit Fell und der Fähigkeit, unter dem Wasser atmen zu können.
17

Diese Annahme postuliert also, dass sich der Mensch auf solcher korelationellen Struktur
stützt, um Kategorien aufbauen und organisieren zu können. Während das eine Prinzip die
Ebene der Angehörigkeit beeinflußt, ist das andere Prinzip für die prototypische Struktur
der Kategorien verantwortlich. Daraus ergibt sich die Tatsache, so Rosch, dass die
strukturelle Organisation der Kategorisierungssystem zwei Dimensionen aufweist: eine
vertikale und eine horizontale. Die vertikale Dimension beinhaltet den Repräsentationsgrad
verschiedener Abstraktionsebenen, wobei die ‚basic levels’ einen von Rosch eingeführten
zentralen Begriff ist, die der höchste Grad an Repräsentativität darstellt. Die horizontale
Dimension hingegen betifft die Zerlegung einer Kategorie auf derselben
Abstraktionsebene. Die Grundannahmen der Prototypenmodells werden von Kleiber
(1993) wie folgend zusammengefasst:
1. Eine Kategorie hat eine prototypische innere Struktur.
2. Der Repräsentativitätsgrad eines Exemplars entspricht dem Grad seiner
Zugehörigkeit zur Kategorie.
3. Die Grenzen zwischen den Kategorien bzw. Begriffen sind unscharf.
4. Die Vertreter einer Kategorie verfügen nicht über Eigenschaften, die allen
Vertretern gemeinsam sind; sie werden durch eine Familienähnlichkeit
zusammengehalten.
5. Die Zugehörigkeit zu einer Kategorie ergibt sich aus dem Grad der Ähnlichkeit
mit dem Prototyp.
6. Über diese Zugehörigkeit wird nicht analytisch, sondern global entschieden.
Diese Ergebnisse stellen den Ausgngspunkt einer von Lakoff bekannten Theorie von
Idealised Cognitive Models (ICMs). ICMs sind relativ stabile mentale Repräsentationen,
die Theorien über die Welt darstellen. Sie sind idealisiert, weil sie Erfahrungen
abstrahieren, anstatt spezifische Instanziierungen einer bestimmten Erfahrung darzustellen.
In diesem Sinne sind sie Fillmores Begriff von ‚frames’ ähnlich, da sie auch komplexe
Wissensstukturen miteinbeziehen. So Putnam: „no language, it is safe to assume, has a
name for a category consisting of just teacups, treacle and loud noises, or similar
heterogeneous collections of things“. (Putnam 1983: 73).
Ausgehend von diesen Bemerkungen, können wir im weiteren aufgrund eines
Beispieles die Relevanz der Prototypentheorie im Bezug auf den Humor probieren, indem
wir mit den bis hier entwickelten theoretischen Instrumenten einen Fall von
Humorproduktion zu analysieren versuchen. In einer seinen Arbeiten stellet sich Fillmore
die Frage, ob der Papst als Junggeselle betrachtet werden kann (Fillmore 1982:34). Wenn
man die Aussage ‚The Pope is a real bachelor’ äußert, löst man bstimmt Humor auf. Wenn
man die Analyse in den von Raskin vorgeschlagenen Rahmen durchführt (Raskin 1985),
würde man sagen, dass man hier mit einer einfachen Skript-Opposition zu tun hat, nämlich
‚geistig’ vs ‚sexuel’. Das einfache Etablieren dieser Opposition erklärt aber das Phänomen
nur auf einer oberflächlichen Ebene, oder ist nur das Endergebniss eines viel komplexeren
kognitiven Verfahrens. Man muß zuerst bemerken, dass, obwohl der Papst die
Eigenschaften eines Junggesellen aufweist, er doch intuitiv eine Grenzinstanz dieser
Kategorie ist. Prototypische Effekte können aber wegen „mismatches between ICMs
against which particular concepts are understood“ (Evans, 2005: 270) vorkommen. Wenn
wir die ICMs betrachten, die den Junggesellen-Begriff bestimmen, schließen sie
Informationen über eine monogame Gesellschaft, die Ehe und ein standard Heiratsalter ein.
Wir haben demzufolge mit einem Zusammenbruch der Hintergrundkategorien, die das
Miteinbeziehn des Papst in die Kategorie der Junggesellen erlaubt hatte.
18

III. Humor und Kategorienfehler
In Michael Jubien (1994) haben wir folgendes Beispiel gefunden, das wir als
Ausgangspunkt dieser Analyse gedacht haben:
"I recently heard a commercial on the radio for a company that leases cars:
Salesman: And, ah, Mr. Smith, just for how much of the car did you want to have?
customer: uh, I was thinking in terms of the whole thing.
Salesman: I see. So you plan on having it for...well, for quite a long time....?
Customer: Not really. maybe three, four years.
Salesman: Ah, then you don't want the whole thing after all, you only want three or four years of
it! But then why buy the whole thing in the first place? why not just buy the part you want?"
Es handelt sich hier um den Versuch, den Humor durch die Kategorisierungsverfahren und
deren Zusammenbruch zu erklären, wobei eine zentrale Rolle die kognitiven Verhältnissen
der Proto-und Stereotypenetablierungen spielen, indem auf der anderen Seite ein Kollaps
der kognitiven Erfahrungen der am Sprechakt Beteiligten zutrifft.
Unsere Hypothese ist, dass Stereotypen, die die Menge der einen Prototyp
definierenden Eigenschaften sind, die 'frames' bilden, den semantischen Bereich, der sich
als Rahmen des enzyklopädischen Wissens zu verstehen läßt, wobei die 'scripts' die
dynamische Aktualisierung im Kontext der sprachlichen Handlung sind. Die
Unterscheidung zwischen 'frames' und 'scripts' haben wir von John R. Taylor ( 1995)
entnommen. Da wir uns hauptsächlich mit Raskins Theorie auseinandersetzen, finden wir
diesen feinen terminologischen Unterschied ziemlich wichtig, da bei Raskin 'scripts' als die
um ein Wort herum existente semantische Information definiert wurden, wobei die
dynamische Komponente, oder das Herausziehen der 'scripts' aus den gegebenen
prototypischen 'frames' nicht vorausgesagt ist. Bei Raskin werden 'scripts' in der Non-
Bona-Fide Kommunikation (NBF) als entgegengesetzte semantische Informationen
dargestellt, was überhaupt nicht der Fall sein könnte, sonst könnte sich der wesentliche
Überraschungseffekt des Humors nicht offenbaren. Die darausfolgende These ist, dass bei
der Humorauslösung die prototypischen Effekte durch Instanziirungen neugedachter
Stereotypen, oder besser gesagt durch Zusammenfallen der üblichen Stereotypen, die zu
neuen Kategorisierungsvorschlägen durch logische 'mismatchs' führen, neue Ontologien
schöpfen.
Die Wahrheitswerte, die Verbindung zwischen linguistischen und
extralinguistischen Realitäten leisten mögen, finden sowieso auch in der Bona-Fide
Kommunikation (BF) nur insoweit einen Deckungsbereich, inwieweit sie den 'frames' der
Sprecher entsprechen. Dasgleiche geschieht auch in der NBF-Kommunikation, in der sie
Sache der subjektiven Deutung der Sprecher und Hörer sind, die dadurch neue Ontologien
als akzeptabel bewerten können, wodurch die Metapher zum Beispiel nicht als einen
aberanten Fall sprachlicher Taetigkeit, wie bei Searle, betrachtet wird. Metapher werden in
diesem Proto-und Stereotypenmodell als Interaktion (Black folgend) angesehen, oder als
Konzeptualisierung eines prototypisch semantischen Bereichs durch Stereotypen, die
normalerweise einem anderen semantischen Bereich gehören oder ontologische
Übertragungen. Das erweiterte Modell der Prototypensemantik versucht eben eine
Erklärung der Phänomene der Polysemie und Homoymie. Auf der einen Seite weisen
Kategorien eine ziemlich große Flexibilität auf, die das Einbeziehen neuen, hitherto
Begriffe erlaubt, die zumindest eine Weile, weil unerwartet, als witzig empfunden werden
können, auf der anderen Seite kann man im Falle einer etymologischen Entwicklung mit
wissenschaftlichem gegen folklorischem Wissen spielen. Im dem folgenden Schritt werden
wir die oben entworfene Theorie püncktlich besprechen.
Wie schon gesagt überlappen sich ICMs mit Fillmores Begriff der ‘frames’.
Wichtig für den Zweck dieser Analyse halten wir eine weitere Unterscheidung, die uns
dann erlauben wird, die Kritik an Raskins Theorie zu führen. Laut Beaugrand und Dressler,
19

ilden frames ‘global patterns of common sense knowledge about some central concept’,
so dass das lexikalische Element, das das Konzept bezeichnet, den ganzen Frame
hervorbringt. Grob genommen stellen Frames statysche Konfigurationen von
Wissenkomplexen. Auf der anderen Weise sind Skripts dynmische Informationen, die man
mit den schon erwähnten basic level Elementen assoziiert warden. Diese Unterschiede
können in Zusammenhang mit der Beziehung zwischen Proto-und Stereotypen gebracht
warden, wobei die Frames den ICMs entsprechen, die ihrerseits von Prototypen
repräsentiert werden und die Skripts ihre Entsprechung in den Stereotypen finden, die den
Prototypen instanziieren: “Putnam’s stereotypes […] comprise not only the prototype, but
also frame and script based information wich provides the context for o prototype
representation”. (Taylor, 1995: 73). Wenn man jetzt die Werbung betrachtet, kann man
feststellen, dass das Aktualisierung bestimmter Skripts im Rahmen einer gegebenen Frame
eine Sache der Interpretabilität und Zusagung ist. Normalerweise würde dieses Beispiel
merkwürdig klingen. Was heißt ja nur Teile eines Auto kaufen, weil man das Auto nur für
ein paar Jahren braucht? Der Verstoß gegen die stereotypische dreidimensionale
Wahrnehmung der Wirklichkeit, bzw des Autos durch das Aktivieren unerwarteten Skripts
löst Humor wegen einer Kollision der ontologischen Kategorien auf. Diese Stereotypen,
die sich in Skripts konkretisieren, oder Greimas folgend Isotopien, führen im Falle von
Humor zur Inkongruenz als Folge von 'category mistake', wie Gilbert Ryle (1949) diese
Kollision genannt hat.
Was die Bon-Fide-Kommunikation und deren Gegenteil, die Non-Bona-Fide-
Kommunikation betrifft, die bei Raskin als zwei voneinander klar unterschiedliche und
begrenzte Kommunikationsrahmen vorkommen, muß man sagen, dass unserer Meinung
nach keine transchante Grenze zwischen den beiden ziehen kann. Demzufolge kann man
auch nicht sagen, dass bestimmte Mechansimen der Bedeutungs- bzw Kategorienaufbau
spezyfisch für die eine oder die andere sei. Die NBF setzt voraus, dass Sprecher und Hörer
sich der Wahrheit nich verpflichteen, d.h. dass sie absichtlich und bewußt einen
bestimmten Rahmen für die Kommunikatin auswählen. Diese Wahl bastimmt laut Raskin
auch die Bedingungen, die den Humorsinn ausmachen: “people with a sense of humor (i)
switch easily and readily from the bona-fide mode of communication to the joke-telling
mode; (ii) have more scripts available for appositeness interaction; (iii) have more
oppositeness relations between scripts relations” (Raskin 1998: 97). Das Problem dieser
Theorie ist, dass sie das Verfahren von Humorproduktion und – Rezeption vereinfacht.
Wenn die Skript-analyse im Sine Raskins Unterkategorien von Humor erklären können,
scheint es schwieriger im Falle einer konzeptuellen Proijektion zum Beispiel, wie der
Metapher, zu sein. Unser konzeptuelles System ist weitaus metaphorisch aufgebaut, wobei
Metapher im alltäglichen Leben eine zentrale Rolle im Kategorisierungsverfahrens spielen.
Black folgend haben Lakoff und Johnsen (Lakoff und Johnsen 2003) eine
Metapherntheorie entwickelt, die sich auf dem bisher vorgestellten Kategorisierungsmodell
stützt, wobei Metapher als Interaktion angesehen wird. Ausgangpunkt ist die Festlegung,
dass der metaphorische Ausdruck in seinen konkreten textuellen Umraum thematisch nicht
recht zu passen scheint. Eine Metapher also, behauptet Black, sei nur dann zu verstehen,
wenn die Differenz überwunden und die Bedeutung des metaphorischen Ausdrucks und
die des Kontextes mieinander abgeglichen werde. Nehmen wir als Beispiel eine Aussage
wie „Er ist eine Wolke in Hosen“, geäußert von einer Frau beim Ansehen eines atraktiven
Mannes. Die Aussage, „er“ sei „eine Wolke in Hose“ setzt eine Interaktion zwischen dem
Begriff der „Wolke“ und demjenigen des Menschen in Gang. Die Eigenschaften, die
normalerweise Wolken zugeschrieben werden 'interagieren' mit den Eigenschaften des
Menschen, alle Merkmale der Wolke, die auf Menschen anwendbar sind, werden im
metaphorischen Prozeß auf den Menschen 'projiziert'. Der Mensch wird durch die der
20

Wolke zugeschriebenen Eigenschaften und Merkmale hindurch wahrgenommen. Neben
dem Begriff der Interaktion und der Projektion verwendet Black das Bild eines Filters: Das
'Wolke-System' bildet den Filter, durch den bestimmte Eigenschaften des Menschen
hervorgehoben, und andere in den Hintergrund gedrängt werden. Man kann also davon
ausgehen, dass zu jedem Begriff der Sprache ein System von Stereotypen oder Skripts
existiert, das als Wissen im Umfeld des Begriffs, d.h. als Frame vorausgesetzt werden
kann, und dass dieses Wissen im Fall seiner metaphorischen Verwendung in andere
Kontexte und auf andere Gegenstände übertragen wird. Man muß also hervorheben, dass
sowohl im Begriff des „Filters“ als auch in dem der Interaktion der metaphorische
Austausch die jeweiligen Systeme der Stereotypen nicht unberührt läßt. Auf beiden Seiten
der metaphorischen Interaktion findet eine Veränderung und eine Erweiterung der
Bedeutung statt, die als das Spezifische der Metapher angesehen werden kann und auch als
das eigentliche Element, das Humor auslöst.
Nehmen wir ein anders Beispiel, das von Lakoff (1977) in Bezug auf
zusammengesetzte Substantive wie zum Beispiel topless dress, topless judge, topless bar
besprochen wurde. Das Verstehen dieser Ausdrücke setzt zuerst unser Wissen voraus, dass
Frauen ihre Brüste einhüllen müssen. Wir wissen auch, dass Frauen, die das nicht machen,
in bestimmten Kneipen arbeiten; dass sich diese Kneipen in bestimmten Zonen einer Stadt
befinden. Dementsprechend kann man sich ein topless bar als eine Kneipe, wo topless
women arbeiten, a topless district als eine Zone, wo topless bars sind, wo topless women
arbeiten, vorstellen. Andererseits ist ein Ausdruck wie topless chair virtuel undeutbar. Wie
könnte man diesen Ausdruck mit Hilfe Raskins Theorie erklären? Dem Ausdruck topless
chair werden die Skripts zugeschrieben, die den stereotypischen Ausdruck topless woman
ausmachen. Es geht hier um das Problem von „ignorance and error“, das mit der Tatsache
zu tun hat, dass es möglich ist, ein Konzept zu beistzen, ohne aber seine Attribute zu
kennen.
IV. Schlußfolgerungen
In Wierzbickas Worten (1985) ist es notwendig einen Unterschied zu machen zwischen
„the knowledge of a concept and knowledhe about a concept“. Diese Flexibilität der
Kategorien, neue Mitglieder aufgrund einfacher Ähnlichkeiten oder proijzierter
metaphorischen Skripten zu erlauben, kann zum Humorauslösen beitragen. Da das
Entstehen von neuen Begriffen eine Sache der Interpretabilität und metaphorischer
Proijzierung ist, kann man zum Beispiel einen Ausdruck wie topless chair als „ein Stuhl,
auf dem topless Frauen sitzen“ deuten. Da Bedeutung Gedankenschnitte reflektiert und
sich auf der Basis von Mappings zwischen verschiedenen mentalen Repräsentationen
aufbaut, kann man im Licht der angegebenen Beispiele sagen, dass Humor nicht so sehr
auf der Wortsemantik fußt, die die raskinsche Skript-Oppositionen rechtfertigen, sondern
vielmehr auf unerwarteten Kategorisierungen (topless chair) oder Kategorienfehler (das
Werbung-Beispiel).
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Langacker, Ronald (1987). Foundations of Cognitive Grmmar, Stanford University Press
Putnam, Hilary (1983). Realism and Reason. Philosophical Papers, Cambridge
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Raskin, Victor (1998). The sense of humor and the truth in The Sense of Humor, Ruch, W. (ed), Mouton de
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Abstract
Categoarization errors or surprising categorizations which seemingly can or cannot logically
represent categorization errors underlie the creation of humour. I start with the rendering of the
idea of meaning in cognitive semantics, according to which meaning represents models of
thinking, at the basis of meaning lying the process of conceptualization and categorization.an
example shows the extant to wich cognitivists succeed in applying discoveries in linguistics and
the extant to which they can account for humour. The second section of the approach presents the
classic model of categorization which ic argued against through Rosch’s discoveries of the 1970s
which radically changed the perspective on ‘the necessary and sufficient conditions’ imposed
upon the memebres of one category, producing an example for the relenance of the new model in
an analysis of humour. The last section presents a confrontation with Raskin’s theory where I try
to show through examples the impossibility of explaining all manifestations of humour through
recourse to his theory and the need to place the research on a more profound level of analysis
involving the appeal the process of conceptualization and categorization.
Résumé
Les erreurs de catégorisation ou les catégorisations surprenantes qui apparemment ou non se
constituent du point de vue logique dans des erreurs de catégorisation, se trouvent à la base de la
production de l’humour. Nous avons commencé par la description de l’idée de signification dans
la sémantique cognitive, selon laquelle, la signification représente les modèles de raisonnement,
basée sur le processus de conceptualisation et catégorisation. Par l’exemple proposé, nous avons
démontré dans quelle mesure les cognitivistes réussissent à appliquer les découvertes du domaine
de la psychologie en linguistique et, comment elles peuvent expliquer l’humour. Dans la
deuxième section, nous avons présenté le modèle classique de la catégorisation que nous avons
combattue à l’aide des découvertes faites par Rosch, dans les années 1970, et qui ont totalement
changé la vision sur «les conditions nécessaires et suffisantes » imposées aux membres d’une
catégorie.Nous avons aussi exemplifié la relevance du nouveau modèle dans une analyse de
l’humour.Dans la dernière section nous nous sommes confronté à la théorie proposée par Ruskin,
de manière à démontrer, par des exemples, qu’il est impossible d’expliquer toutes les
manifestations de l’humour, en appelant uniquement à sa théorie et, le besoin de situer la
recherche à un niveau plus profond d’analyse qui implique le recours au processus de
conceptualisation et catégorisation.
Rezumat
Greşelile de categorizare sau categorizări surprinzătoare care aparent sau nu se pot constitui din
punct de vedere logic în greşeli de categorizare se află la baza producerii umorului. Am început
prin redearea ideii de semnificaţie în semantica cognitivă, conform căreia semnificaţia reprezintă
modele de gândire, la baza semnificaţiei aflîndu-se procesul de conceptualizare şi categorizare.
Printr-un exemplu am arătat în ce măsură cognitiviştii reuşesc să aplice descoperirile din
psihologie în lingvistică şi în ce măsură pot ele explica umorul. Am trecut în cea de-a doua
secţiune la prezentarea modelului clasic al categorizării pe care l-am combătut cu descoperirile
făcute de Rosch în anii 70 şi care au schimbat total viziunea aspura "condiţiilor necesare şi
suficiente" impuse membrilor unei categorii, exemplificănd, iar, relevanţa noului model intr-o
analiză a umorului. În ultima secţiune m-am confruntat cu teoria propusă de Raskin încercînd să
arăt prin exemple imposibilitatea de a explica toate manifestarile umorului prin recursul la teoria
lui şi nevoia de a situa cercetarea pe un nivel mai profund de analiză ce implică recursul la
procesul de conceptualizare si categorizare.
22

Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of GALAŢI
Fascicle XIII. New Series.
Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006
pp. 23 - 30
23
Language
and
Literature
THE EC LANGUAGE POLICY AND CONTENT-BASED LEARNING IN
ROMANIA
Anca Cehan
The Romanian education context is such that there is relatively little foreign
language input outside the classroom, and that the classroom input may not be enough. For
this reason, foreign language teachers may opt for skill-building over building
communicative competence, claiming that there is not enough time for “the real thing”.
Development of recent approaches, new specific materials and textbooks, including
content-based learning (also known as CLIL - Content and Language Integrated Learning)
seems a possible solution.
1. Students
For many of the Romanian students, who are likely to use the English learnt in
school throughout their lives, the time spent in foreign language lessons practising
grammar, learning words, speaking, reading or writing, is enjoyable, easy and successful.
However, many more students leave school being able to use very little of the foreign
language which they spent so much time learning. For them, the investment of time and
effort in the English classrooms has disappointing outcomes. When they leave school and
later in their lives, they find it difficult to use the foreign language they know as this is
either not enough or not what would help them in their jobs. The language they learn in
school cannot be used as a tool for real-life communication in the everyday situations in
which they may have to operate. When it is too late, they may realise that it does not make
sense to have spent all this time learning a language which they cannot use in real life
situations. For such people, more important in point of effective language learning and
communication is not what they know but how they could use it.
2. Schools
The learning process organised in schools is very much a situation-specific matter.
The kind of schools that students attend provide strong influences on the teaching -
learning process, and it is counterproductive to ignore them. The implementation of an
appropriate methodology depends on the teachers’ ability to find out in the classroom what
is the extent to which the knowledge and skills acquired or learnt in the classroom can be
transferred into activities accountable later on.
Although it is possible to generalise about some social principles, and to say, for
instance, that classroom cultures are influenced by the cultures outside the classroom, or
that there is likely to be conflict between teacher and student agendas, it is not possible to
generalise about the precise nature of a particular classroom culture, or the other cultures

which influence it, or the form which this influence takes. This has to be worked through in
the specific situation in which the teaching - learning process takes place. The implications
are not simple: the class teacher should be aware of who the students in a particular
classroom are, what their needs and interests are, and what they are able to do. The class
teacher has the role of seeing what is going on and finding out about the relevant
backgrounds of all parties involved. Other parties, such as curriculum developers, materials
and textbook writers, school administration, may also be involved in making decisions
about the nature of classroom teaching and learning through recommended syllabi,
textbooks, methodology, materials, and equipment.
To be appropriate, materials and methodology must be sensitive to the prevailing
culture surrounding any given classroom. In other words, appropriate materials and
methodology must be culture-sensitive and as such they must be based on a process of
learning about the classroom. The data produced by this process makes the methodology
culture-sensitive and appropriate. Learning about the classroom and the ethos of the entire
school is an essential aspect of finding out how to teach.
Any class and any foreign language class for that matter, is supposed to cater for
the specific needs of each group of learners if not for each individual learner. The process
of learning about the classroom needs involves research which can be carried out at an
informal level in such a way as to be accessible to all teachers. The notion of teacher as
informal researcher is already common in general education (Stenhouse 1985, Ruddock
and Hopkins, 1985), and is becoming popular in English language education, too (Nunan
1990, Allwright 1992). Teachers can carry out even less formal classroom research in a
way that it is fully integrated with their day-to-day work. For this kind of research
Allwright and Bailey (1991) use the notion of “exploratory teaching”.
3. Foreign language teaching and beyond
In Romania, many foreign language teachers work in situations where the
established syllabus is not in agreement with their view of how English is learned
efficiently, or the needs of their students, as perceived by the teachers. Such teachers have
two options: either to simply go along with the syllabus and complain secretly to their
peers, or to secretly do what they think is best and be successful, and thus credit the
syllabus with undeserved merits.
However, the system offers a chance that quite a few teachers understood is worth
taking: 'curriculum la decizia şcolii' ('curriculum based on school decision'), with its three
alternatives: the basic core curriculum, the expanded curriculum and the optional syllabi.
The optional syllabi may be designed by regular school teachers on different levels:
subject level, curricular area level, or cross-curricular area level.
The optional syllabus developed for a subject consists in either new learning
modules, activities, or projects for a subject in the national syllabus, or in a completely new
syllabus for a new subject, complementary to those in the national curriculum.
The optional syllabus developed for a curricular area requires the choice of a new
topic, which involves at least two subjects of the same curricular area. In designing such an
optional syllabus new objectives have to be specified and related to the instructional goals
of the two subjects.
The third type of optional syllabus implies at least two subjects of different
curricular areas. Consequently, the input offered to students is more complex, and thus
allows them to acquire high cognitive skills (e.g. generalization, transfer, extrapolation,
etc.). In contrast to learning skills in isolation, when students participate in crossdisciplinary
experiences, they understand better the value of what they are learning and
24

ecome more actively engaged. The optional syllabus developed on a cross-curricular area
level encourages students to cross boundaries in order to find and work with authentic
material on other subjects, such as history, geography or sciences, which will immediately
stir their interest. In favour of cross-curricular transfer, is the idea of skills integration;
through integration, skills tend to become more stable parts of a person’s understanding of
the world.
A cross-curricular approach in education in general, not only at the level of foreign
languages, is a must of our time. It helps students to form an image of reality in its entirety,
develop an integrative model of thinking, and adapt transfer methods, values and skills
from one area or field to another with minimum effort or risk. Cross-curricular teaching is
seen as a way to address some of the recurring problems in our school education, such as
fragmentation and isolated skill instruction, and involves a conscious effort to apply
knowledge, principles and values to more than one subject simultaneously. The subjects
may be related through a central theme, issue, problem, process, topic or experience.
This legal provision allows teachers to develop specific syllabi, design materials
and even write textbooks which respond directly to the needs of their students. Based on
ethnographic study processes, such as classroom observation, insights into the feasibility of
innovation for students and classroom conditions, teachers are able to find out what the
students’ needs really are, and starting from there, to design or adapt both syllabi and
materials. Their analysis of the environment is accompanied by a tacit understanding of the
psycho-cultural and micro political aspects of institutional behaviour.
One opportunity offered by this optional syllabus, as identified by foreign language
teachers, is to put some time of the school week for learning other subjects, such as
geography history or civilisation, or special modules through English. In this way, lessons
are taught that offer opportunities to students to use English naturally, forgetting about the
language and focusing mainly on the learning topic. The learning of language and the
content of another subjects are mixed and each lesson has a twofold aim: one related to the
subject, topic or theme, and one linked to the foreign language. Thus these kinds of lessons
have a dual focus.
This approach, in itself, is not new, nor is it unknown in Romania. Over the years,
teachers have tried to teach foreign languages through other subjects and other topics. This
is the philosophy behind bilingual schools and classes, where a foreign language is used as
a medium of teaching and learning. It has been felt that students benefit from the focus
being less on the language in terms of grammar, functions, or lexis, and more on the
content or topic. By choosing topics that learners are already somehow familiar with,
currently studying or interested in, the hope is that they will learn more and faster. This
approach is gaining more ground, not only in bilingual schools, but also in vocational
schools.
4. CLIL
Content-based learning / Content and Language Integrated Learning (CLIL) can be
very successful in enhancing the learning of a foreign language together with another
subject, and in developing in the young people a ‘can do’ attitude towards their own
learning. CLIL lessons can offer supplementary opportunities of picking up a foreign
language, while studying a content area. Naturalness appears to be one of the major assets
of this approach. Dual-focus lessons offer a natural situation for language practice and
development which builds on the forms learnt in the language classes. As such they can
boost the learners’ motivation and interest for learning the foreign language, as the
language is relevant for their interests and needs. An important difference between a
25

foreign language lesson and a CLIL lesson is that in the latter the language is picked up
more naturally. In a typical language class, the learners go through the process of sorting
out sounds, patterns, structures, vocabulary, etc. In a CLIL class, it is essential for the
students to understand how language works, but there is seldom enough time for learning
more than the essentials. A CLIL class in English enables students to acquire subjects
through the mediation of English as a foreign language and it is the subject orientation
which is given a special focus. It can combine sector-specific target language knowledge
with job-specific communication competencies.
CLIL promotes several principles:
content
At the very heart of the process of learning is placed successful content or subject
learning, the acquisition of knowledge, skills and understanding characteristic for that
subject. The traditional transmission model for content delivery which conceptualises the
subject as a body of knowledge to be transferred from teacher to learner is not longer
considered appropriate. Rather, a symbiotic relationship is stressed between the foreign
language and the subject, which demands a focus on how subjects are taught while
working with and through another language rather than in another language. This
important shift in focus has determined the redefinition of methodology to take account of
language use by both teachers and students, which encourages real engagement and
interactivity. It has also brought about teacher reflection on how best to teach. This means
consideration of issues fundamental to the education process itself. Consequently, CLIL
has implications for teacher education and training.
communication
The foreign language is seen as a conduit for both communication and learning. It is
learned through use in authentic, unrehearsed, yet ‘scaffolded’ situations.
By using English as the medium of instruction and communication, the foreign
language teacher becomes more aware of the learners’ linguistic needs and triggers tunedin
strategic language behaviour. The teacher also performs constant comprehension checks,
related to content. This may result in high levels of communication between the teacher
and the studens and among students themselves. CLIL stretches the learners’ language and
language learning potential through pushing them to produce meaningful and complex
language. Thus it fosters implicit and incidental learning by focusing on meaning and
communication, and providing great amounts of input. At the same time, the regular
foreign language class can keep a complementary focus-on-form approach in the needed
language areas. In addition, CLIL fosters fluency, whereas many simple foreign language
lessons tend to focus on accuracy. Therefore, CLIL lessons are complementary to the more
structured foreign language lessons. CLIL lessons build on the language learned and
practised in the language lessons by providing alternative opportunities to develop a wide
range of language skills, strategies and competences needed by students to function in
everyday situations. The linguistic competence acquired in the language lessons may be
transferred to yet another kind of language in the CLIL setting. CLIL serves to reinforce
the notion that any language is a tool which, to have meaning and sense, needs to be
activated in contexts which are motivating and meaningful for the learners.
cognition
CLIL challenges the learners cognitively, whatever their ability. It provides a rich
setting for developing thinking skills in conjunction with both basic interpersonal
communication skills (BICS) and cognitive-academic language proficiency (CALP).
Research suggests that these challenges encourage thinking to take place in different
languages and at a deeper level of cultural understanding.
26

The potential of CLIL for successful foreign language teaching comes from
meaningful input. It strengthens the students’ ability to process input, which enhances
cognitive development and prepares them for higher-level thinking skills. The need for
more support for CLIL lessons (visual and other types), makes the teacher aware of the
more general need of cognitive and interactional support that foreign language learners,
particularly young learners, require. Also, CLIL facilitates the transfer of literacy skills
from the mother tongue to the foreign language.
pluriculturality
Language, thinking and culture are inextricably linked, and CLIL may provide an
ideal opportunity for students to operate in alternative cultures through studies in an
alternative language. Studying a subject through the language of a different culture paves
the way for understanding and tolerating different perspectives. This element is
fundamental to fostering European understanding and making European citizenship a
reality.
These four principles elevate CLIL to the position of a major and significant
contributor to the realisation of the European Commission’s Language Policy.
In addition, CLIL provides a learning environment which makes it possible to
realise modern learning theoretical and methodological concepts in an optimal way. CLIL
has some clear advantages:
authenticity of language and content. CLIL learners deal with authentic
content and interact in a foreign language about the real world around them. Authenticity
promotes the language learning process more than talking about the pseudo-real and
fictitious contents of the traditional language classroom. Authenticity is a fundamental
condition that gives good results.
learner autonomy. In science, history, geography or other subject lessons,
students make use of alternative learning strategies and study skills when they have to deal
with bibliographical sources, tables, maps, or diagrams. Such materials not only provide a
lot of information but also allow students a certain degree of independence. A CLIL class
can be a place in which the different topics are not divided arbitrarily and taught in
isolation, but as a complex whole or a place of autonomous learning in which students deal
independently with the learning content.
conceptualisation. CLIL does not promote only linguistic competence. It
offers different ‘thinking horizons’ as a result of work in another language, and the way in
which learners think can be modified. Being able to think about something of real interest,
professionally or otherwise, can enrich the learners’ understanding of concepts, and help to
broaden their conceptual mapping resources. This allows better association of different
concepts and helps the students towards a more sophisticated level of learning in a certain
field. Classes provide situations in which the attention of the students is on some form of
learning activity that is not the language itself. Students are provided opportunities to think
in the foreign language, not just learn about the language itself as the major learning focus.
Students in CLIL classes often lack the cognitive language proficiency needed to
process and express content area concepts. The task of the CLIL teacher is to expose
learners to appropriate content designed to further their linguistic skills and to render the
core concepts of the CLIL lesson accessible through language enrichment activities. This
task involves sophisticated adaptation techniques and strategies, and for many teachers, it
may entail a rethinking of how to present material to learners.
attitude towards the foreign language. As CLIL lessons are not primarily
foreign language lessons, students should be encouraged to challenge the idea of waiting to
communicate in the foreign until they think they are good enough in the language to use it.
27

The status of the foreign language as a tool for communication and learning should be
emphasised. The foreign language teacher can capitalise not only on the positive attitudes
the students may have towards the language, but also on their motivation to reach the best
possible outcomes in terms of learning the other subject. In addition, the students’ affective
filter may be lower than in other situations, for learning takes place in a relatively anxietyfree
environment: a syllabus designed after enquiring about their needs, and students
(often) more knowledgeable of the content than the foreign language teacher. Thus,
motivation to learn content through the foreign language may foster and sustain motivation
towards learning the language itself.
social learning. The relevance of study topics motivates the students to
understand the importance of forms of collaboration, better than in the traditional
classrooms. Thus, CLIL creates a learning environment that corresponds better to modern
psychological principles than do traditional learning environments. It also connects
different areas of the learning curriculum into a meaningful and economic use of study
time.
The pedagogical potential of CLIL is enormous and lies not only in the promotion
of foreign language learning but in the adaptation of the educational structures to the EU
language policy. Within such a learning environment, reaching the goal of trilingualism of
all the citizens of the EU, as defined in the 1995 White Paper by the Council of Europe,
seems more feasible. CLIL is far better suited than mainstream pedagogical concepts to
provide for the learners’ different aptitudes.
5. EC language policy
The principles behind CLIL include global statements such as ‘all teachers are
teachers of language’ (The Bullock Report, A language for Life, 1975) to the advantages of
cross-curricular bilingual teaching in statements from the Content and Language Integrated
Project (CLIP, hosted by the British National Centre for Languages - CILT). The benefits
of CLIL may be seen in terms of cultural awareness, internationalisation, language
competence, preparation for both study and working life, and increased motivation.
A major outcome of CLIL is to establish not only competence in a foreign
language, but also nurture a ‘can do’ attitude towards language learning in general. The
CLIL language can be a platform by which the learners may take an interest in other
languages and cultures as well.
Learning a language and learning through a language are concurrent processes, but
implementing CLIL requires rethinking of the traditional concepts of the language
classroom and the language teacher. The immediate obstacle for the implementation of the
CLIL approach seems to be the opposition to language teaching by subject teachers, but
opposition may also come from the language teachers themselves. The scarcity of CLIL
teacher-training programmes suggests that the majority of teachers may be ill-equipped to
do the job adequately. However, the characteristics of CLIL activities are not unfamiliar to
the teachers from the foreign languages background:
integration of language and content
integration of receptive and productive skills
material directly related to a content-based subject
lessons often based on reading (and listening) authentic texts
lessons not always graded from a language point of view. Language is
functional and dictated by the context of the subject
language emphasis placed on lexis rather than on grammar.
28

A CLIL approach is not unlike the humanistic, communicative and lexical
approaches, as it aims to guide language processing and supports language production in
the same way that a foreign language course would, by teaching techniques for exploiting
reading or listening texts and structures for supporting spoken or written language.
CLIL can be both challenging and demanding for the teacher and the learners, but it
can also be very stimulating and rewarding for both parties. The degree to which the
teacher adopts this approach may depend on the willingness of the students, the institution
in which they work, and the resources within their environment. It could be something that
a school wants to consider introducing across the curriculum or something that they
experiment with for a few lessons. If either of these is chosen, the advice for the foreign
language teachers is that they should try to involve other subject teachers within the
school. This could help both in terms of finding sources of information and in having the
support of others in helping to evaluate the work. In such schools or classes, the quality of
foreign language teaching will be improved through team-work and/or tandem teaching.
While CLIL may be the best-fit methodology for foreign language teaching and
learning in a multilingual Europe, there remains a dearth of CLIL-type materials, and a
lack of teacher training programmes to prepare both language and subject teachers for
CLIL teaching. Until CLIL training for teachers is organised and materials are published,
the immediate future remains with parallel rather than integrated content and language
learning. However, the need for language teaching reform in the face of Europeanisation
may make CLIL a common feature of many European education systems in the future.
Several European organisations specialising in CLIL projects have emerged:
UNICOM, EuroCLIC and TIE-CLIL. Research on CLIL is mainly based at the University
of Nottingham, which also offers teacher training and development courses in CLIL,
available though NILE (the Norwich Institute for Language Education).
Society is changing, particularly in Europe, with changes brought about by the
process of integration. It is this reality, alongside our new understandings of language
acquisition and learning which has provoked excitement about CLIL. There are social,
economic, cultural and ecological advantages to be gained though promoting
plurilingualism through language learning. CLIL offers one additional means by which we
can give the young people the opportunities to develop their capacity to use language and
to reap the benefits in their present and future lives.
REFERENCES
Allwright, R. L. and K. Biley. (1991). Focus on the Language Classroom – An Introduction to Classroom
Research for Language Teachers. CUP, Cambridge
Cummins, J. (1981). Language, Power and Pedagogy: Bilingual Children in the Crossfire. Clevdon,
Multilingual Matters
McDonough, J., and Shaw, C. (1995). Materials and Methods in ELT,: Basil Blackwell, Oxford
Centre for Information on Language, Teaching and Research, www.cilt.org.uk
CLIL Compendium www.clilcompendium.com
Translanguage in Europe – Content and Language Integrated Learning, www.tieclil.org
Website of University of Jyväskylä, www.jyu.fi
Website of the Central European Regional Network for Education Transfer. European Studies material,
www.cernet.at
Website of Eurydice, www.eurydice.org/resources/eurydice/pdf
29

Abstract
This paper is a synthesis of the characteristic features of CLIL (content-and-language integrated
learning). This approach can offer interesting solutions for the teaching of foreign languages - at
different levels - for the world of work as it promotes intercultural awareness,
internationalisation, and it increases student motivation
Résumé
L’article contient une synthèse des caractéristiques qui font d’EMILE (l’enseignement
d’une matière intégré à une langue étrangère) une solution intéressante pour promouvoir
l’intercompréhension européenne et pour faire de la citoyenneté européenne une réalité. L’auteur
montre comment EMILE crée une atmosphère d’études plus efficace que d’autres méthodes en
usage, et comment l’étude des langues étrangères peut bénéficier d’une éducation à double
objectif.
Rezumat
Articolul este o sinteză a trăsăturilor caracteristice abordării studiului limbilor străine din
perspectiva integrării conţinutului şi a limbii. Această abordare este o soluţie interesantă pentru
promovarea cunoaşterii limbilor străine la diferite nivele de performanţă, necesară pieţei muncii,
dar şi pentru promovarea cunoaşterii interculturale şi a globalizării. Aceasta abordare cu dublu
obiectiv genereaza o motivaţie mai susţinută la cursanţi.
30

Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of GALAŢI
Fascicle XIII. New Series.
Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006
pp. 31 - 35
31
Language
and
Literature
PREVIZIBIL VS. IMPREVIZIBIL IN DISCURSUL PUBLICITAR
Mihaela Cîrnu
Mai mult decât orice situaţie comunicaţională, textul publicitar cultivă ludicul, sub diferite
aspecte, la diferite niveluri şi, ca în orice joc, există părţi previzibile, dar şi multe lucruri
imprevizibile, care măresc interesul participanţilor.
Structuri ale repetiţiei (de la recurenţa lexicală până la figurile de stil), dar şi
elemente ale surprizei (paradoxul, particularităţi ale deicticelor) sunt urmărite în articolul
de faţă, ca elemente pragmatice, surse ale persuasiunii publicitare.
Predictibilitatea din text, acele structuri repetabile, ajută la memorarea şi
identificarea rapidă a imaginii create. Cea mai întâlnită schemă este structura tripartită a
textului: ”Dacă / Când [A], folosiţi [B] şi obtineţi [C]” (Stoichiţoiu Ichim, 1997, II, p. 45):
“Când te supără durerea de dinţi… Nurofen te poate ajuta. Calmează rapid şi eficient
durerile de dinţi chiar în locul unde este nevoie. Cu Nurofen, durerile de dinţi nu mai sunt
o problemă.” Acesta este modelul general, din care uneori, în text, pot fi exprimate doar
două dintre cele trei părţi: “Dacă iţi pasă ce bei – Wembley dry gin.” Pentru a fi mai
provocatoare, prima parte ia uneori formă interogativă: “Te ustură ochii? Fii cu ochii pe
Visine! Câte o picatură de Visine în fiecare zi şi vei vedea rapid efectul.”
Folosirea frecventă a unor cuvinte (recurenţa lexicală) dă impresia că publicitatea
şi-a însuşit o anumită sferă lexicală: nou, avantajos, rentabil, ieftin, ideal, perfect, unic,
excepţional, eficienţă, calitate, succes, soluţie, siguranţă, confort, prospeţime, valoare.
Observăm că folosirea repetată a acestora nu este întâmplătoare, ci urmăreşte sfera lexicală
preferată de publicitate: avantajele unui preţ accesibil, rezultatul benefic al folosirii
produsului. Insistând asupra anumitor particularităţi pentru a le imprima cât mai bine în
memoria receptorului, textul este construit adesea cu ajutorul figurilor repetiţiei.
Repetiţia fonologică are ca rezultat construcţiile rimate, receptate uşor şi cu plăcere
de public: “Eşti pe felie cu Adi Ilie” (Campofrio); “Acţionează cu putere în orice durere”
(Panadol Extra).
Repetiţia lexicală are la dispoziţie multiple posibilităţi de realizare: epifora (“N-ai
mai văzut aşa ceva! N-ai mai simţit aşa ceva! N-ai mai auzit aşa ceva! De Valentine’s
Day ascultă Europa FM”), anafora (“Rezistent la paste. Rezistent la pizza. Rezistent la
… pasiune. Este mai mult decât un ruj. Este Lipfinity”), anadiploza (“O marfă nu poate
alege. Alege să nu fii o marfă!” – campania TVR2 împotriva traficului de fiinţe umane),
poliptoton (“Păr special? Îngrijire specială!” – Pantene PRO-V), diafora (“ Ace. Ce-i
trebuie albului să fie alb”).
Preluate din alte registre ale limbii, figurile insistenţei aduc textului, de cele mai
multe ori, o notă colocvială, apropiată. Proverbul (“Ce-i al tău e pus deoparte” – Primola)
şi climaxul (“Gut. Besser. Gösser.” – în care numele berii se află pe locul superlativului în
paradigma gradelor de comparaţie a adjectivului “bun” în limba germană) sunt figuri ale
reflecţiei, care atrag atenţia receptorului asupra mesajului, dar mai subtil decât figurile
repetiţiei. Cu o tendinţă recunoscută spre exagerare, textul publicitar nu putea evita
hiperbola, realizată atât prin adjective sau substantive cu sens de superlativ (“Noul Bona.

Albul absolut”; “Ariel & Whirlpool de 2 ori impecabil”), cât şi prin superlative retorice
(“Fairy face minuni”; “Dream Space de la Whirlpool îţi oferă mai mult decât ai visat!”).
Previzibilul (capacitatea textului de a-l lăsa pe receptor să “ghicescă” ce urmează),
sub orice formă de manifestare, dă receptorului impresia că şi el ar fi putut să spună/facă
un astfel de lucru grozav, că este coautor al mesajului publicitar. Totuşi, există riscul
monotoniei, atunci când totul este intuit. Surpriza, noul, neobişnuitul sunt elemente care
şochează şi atrag atenţia.
Ambiguitatea, jocul planurilor implicit – explicit solicită interpretarea receptorului,
punându-i în acţiune atenţia, memoria, perspicacitatea. Pentru a obţine un astfel de efect,
creatorii textelor publicitare folosesc adesea calamburul (o formă de ambiguitate
lingvistică), realizat prin exploatarea intenţionată a mai multor fenomene lingvistice: “La
PROTV în fiecare noapte ai filme deştepte care te ţin deştept.”; “Ea aduce clasa. În
fiecare joi, de la 20.30 Reuniunea de clasă.”; “Totul se limpezeşte! Chiar şi hăinuţele
bebeluşilor… Noua maşină de spălat Beko 8014 Electronic. Să fie limpede: butonul
“Baby” asigură clătirea perfectă a hainelor şi hăinuţelor!”; “Nu uita să-ţi întorci ceasul!”
(ora G); “Cineva te înconjoară cu caldură. Junkers. Căldură pentru o viaţă.” (centrale
termice Junkers). Omonimia şi polisemia produc şi întreţin echivocul, ambiguitatea:
deştept = 1.”inteligent”, 2. “treaz”; clasă = 1.”calitate, valoare”, 2. “grup de elevi”; a
limpezi = 1.”a clarifica”, 2. “a clăti (rufe)”; a întoarce (ceasul) = 1.”a învârti, a răsuci
resortul unui mecanism”, 2.” a schimba poziţia unui obiect, aşezându-l invers faţă de
poziţia firească”; căldură = 1. ”starea sau gradul de încălzire a unui corp”, 2.” afecţiune,
amabilitate” .
Contextului îi revine cea mai importantă sarcină, aceea de a îndruma receptorul
spre unul dintre sensuri sau, dimpotrivă, de a permite coexistenţa celor două: ”totul se
limpezeşte… să fie limpede…”. Cele mai multe reclame au marele avantaj al folosirii
imginilor, uneori chiar cu rol de context edificator. În reclama pentru emisiunea ora G,
alături de titlul: ”Nu uita să-ţi intorci ceasul”, se afla imaginea unui ceas întors cu susul în
jos, aluzie la conţinutul emisiunii: ”lucruri trăsnite, sucite…”. Interpretarea rămâne la
alegerea receptorului. Importanţa contextului (a imaginii, dacă este cazul) devine maximă
în cazul paronimiei: ” Negrul se duce. Negrul seduce” (detergentul Bona pentru rufe
colorate) este partea lingvistică a mesajului publicitar, la care nu trebuie uitată imaginea, o
comparaţie între rochia neagră, spălată cu un detergent obişnuit, care se decolorează în
timp, şi rochia neagră, spălată cu noul produs Bona, care îşi păstrează culoarea în timp.
Receptarea corectă a mesajului este asigurată de forma scrisă a textului, în primul rând, şi
de imagine.
Paradoxul, o altă figură folosită ca sursă a ambiguităţii, se bazează pe contradicţie:
o idee dintr-un şir logic continuă cu o idee care nu are nici o legătura cu prima sau o
contrazice pe aceasta. Una dintre reclamele pentru Sprite, un spot, are următorul text:
“Pătrunde acum în lumea minunată bărbieritului fericit. Numai Sprite aranjeanză până şi
firele la care n-a ajuns nimeni. Noua tehnologie a bulinuţelor inteligente. Deci nu folosi
Sprite ca loţiune de ras pentru că nu contează imaginea, dar… nici chiar aşa. Urmează-ţi
setea! Sprite”. Această reclamă face parte dintr-o întreagă serie în care producătorul începe
prin a spune ce nu poate să facă Sprite, terminând cu ceea ce poate să facă: să potolească
setea. Este o reacţie la curentul general din reclamă în care produsul este hiperbolizat şi i se
atribuie o serie de calităţi şi efecte pe care nu le are. Cu o notă de umor, ironie chiar,
reclama prezintă un bărbat care, după ce a folosit Sprite ca loţiune de ras, se alege cu faţa
plină de tăieturi. Concluzia: Sprite este o băutură răcoritoare iar textul reclamei spune acest
lucru prin contradicţie (exagerare – aptitudini reale). Proverbele sau expresiile celebre pot
constitui baza unui paradox: “A fi sau a nu fi la Euro 2004. Aceasta-i întrebarea.
Răspunsul: totul depinde de noi. Copenhaga – jocul cu Danemarca. Fii alături de
32

Naţională! Fii in galben!”. Celebra dilemă shakespeariană devine problema existenţială a
echipei noastre de fotbal.
Ambiguitatea referenţială realizează o altă sferă a surprizelor. Diverse clase de
cuvinte sunt folosite cu valoare deictică. Deixis-ul personal ocupă un loc important în
strategia de ambiguizare la nivelul textului publicitar. Caracteristica formelor pronominale
de persoana I şi a II-a de a nu avea referinţă proprie duce la opacizarea identităţii celor doi
participanţi la actul de comunicare: emiţătorul şi receptorul. Foarte multe texte publicitare
sunt construite pe aceste două persoane: “Tu şi Maggi. Echipa bunului gust.”; “Hidrateazăţi
pielea şi răsfaţă-te!” (Dove); “Ploaie de culori sclipitoare pe buzele tale!”; Complimente
părului tău!” (Londacolor). Adresarea directă, aici, apropie receptorul dar nu-l identifică.
Acest “tu” poate fi oricine. Putem deduce câteva dintre caracteristicile destinatarului doar
după natura prudusului căruia i se face publicitate. Produsele cosmetice sunt folosite (de
obicei) de femei, iar ingredientele Maggi de cei care gătesc. Sunt texte în care formele
pronominale de persoana a II-a nu apar, dar deducem acest lucru din forma verbală: “Radio
contact – un radio aşa cum vrei”; “Planeta singuratică. Locul în care nu eşti niciodată
singur”; “Fa. Eşti gata de acţiune?”; “Speli mai mult cu mai puţin” (Fairy).
Ambiguitatea referenţială creşte, deoarece informaţia referitoare la destinatarul
mesajului nu mai este exprimată lexical (prin intermediul unei forme pronominale), ci doar
gramatical. Persoana I îl aduce în prim plan pe receptorul mesajului, care este fie
proprietarul obiectului / serviciului promovat, fie un (eventual) beneficiar: “Noi chiar avem
ceva de spus” (Jurnal); “Să-mi fac un card VISA numai ca să mă simt mai domn când
plătesc la restaurant?”. Identificarea rămâne foarte vagă, dar are mai multe elemente de
personalizare decât textele construite cu persoana a II-a. La Mica Publicitate mai toate
anunţurile sunt făcute la persoana I (singular sau plural): “ofer credite fără dobânzi”; “caut
partener pentru afacere cu cherestea şi lemn”; “acordăm împrumuturi”; “vând combină
muzicală”; “angajăm patiser cu experienţă”; “ghicesc în Tarot, cafea, fac pentru dragoste şi
împăcare”. Un element specific de individualizare în asemenea anunţuri este numărul de
telefon şi/ sau adresa. Ştim că în spatele textului nu se ascunde un număr foarte mare de
persoane, ci unul singur sau un grup mic, identificabil. Prin natura lor, anunţurile
matrimoniale dau câteva detalii referitoare la emiţătorul mesajului: “Şarpe, 26 ani,
Bucureşti…”; “Inginer, 48/1,84/82…”. Fiecare apreciază singur ce anume este de spus
despre sine în asemenea împrejurare: vârsta, înălţimea, greutatea, ocupaţia, zodia,
localitatea de reşedinţă.
În reclamele care beneficiază de ajutorul imaginii, persoana I are o situaţie aparte.
“Câinele meu e protejat întreaga viaţă” (Pedigree); “Nu vreau să-i fie frig căluţului meu…”
(Bramac); “Să-mi spăl zilnic părul?” (şamponul Schauma cu muşeţel). Beneficiarul (sau
posibilul beneiciar) este prezentat în imagine: medicul veterinar Andrei Timen, un copil,
respectiv o tânără. Nu putem conchide însă că doar ei pot beneficia de produsul respectiv,
ci ei sunt reprezentanţii celorlalţi, sunt cei care lansează o provocare: dacă el are grijă de
animalul său, şi receptorul poate face acest lucru, dacă tânăra îşi spală părul zilnic fără ca
părul să aibă de suferit, ci dimpotrivă, atunci oricine doreşte un păr frumos, îngrijit poate
folosi şamponul prezentat. Se realizează, aşadar, o pseudo-individualizare a emiţătorului.
Există un spot publicitar conceput ca dialog între două tinere. Una dintre ele ( pe care o
notăm cu T1) se află în camera prietenei, unde vede fotografia unui bărbat. Cealaltă (T2) se
piaptănă în baie, având în faţă noul şampon Nivea.
“T1 - Ei, ceva nou în viaţa ta? (priveşte fotografia)
T2 – Da. Exact ce căutam (ia şamponul în mână). Puternic dar delicat.
T1 – Acesta este? (arată fotografia)
T2 – Evident! (iese din baie cu şamponul în mână)”.
33

Formele pronominale (ceva, acesta), folosite aici atipic, au ca suport imaginea.
Dacă la început ambiguitatea este sporită de imagine (fiecare participantă la dialog are o
altă reprezentare a lui “ceva”), în final tot ea (imaginea) este cea care dezambiguizează
realitatea referenţială (cele doua fete ajung la acelaşi referent).
Deixisul temporal se exprimă în câteva forme, mai ales în anunţurile de la Mica
Publicitate. Pentru a capta atenţia şi a grăbi răspunsul receptorului, multe anunţuri încep
cu adverbul “acum”: “Acum angajez vânzătoare…”; “Acum particular ofer împrumut
avantajos…”; “Acum! Caut spaţiu comercial…” (România liberă, 14 ianuarie 2003, p. 19,
21). Deşi orice articol dintr-un ziar, indiferent dacă este publicitate sau articol informativ,
trebuie corelat cu data de apariţie a cotidianului, adverbul “acum” nu se referă neapărat la
dată, ci la un moment cât mai apropiat de momentul receptării mesajului. Destinatarul
mesajului este îndemnat să acţioneze imediat. Acelaşi rol îl au şi adverbele “rapid” şi
“urgent”: “Rapid, gratuit oferim personal calificat conform cerinţelor firmei
dumneavoastră…”, “Urgent, doresc angajare şofer profesionist…”; “Căutăm urgent pentru
Israel cusătoreasă cu experienţă…” (ibidem, p.15). La această grabă se adaugă uneori o
notă de umor: ”Repede că se dăramă! Casă cu teren…” (România liberă, 28 mai, 2000,
p.16). Aceeaşi referinţă temporală nedeterminată este sugerată şi prin folosirea
imperativului: contactaţi-ne!; abordaţi-ne!. Se obţine, de obicei, un răspuns la câteva ore
sau câteva zile de la publicarea anunţului.
Verbul are şi la nivel semantic un aport deosebit. “A începe” şi “a apărea” presupun
exitenţa unui anumit moment (pe care l-am putea nota t0) care declanşează acţiunea: “A
început promoţia, preţuri cu TVA inclus…”; “A apărut absolut avantajos! Achiziţionez
antichităţi…”; “A apărut cumpăr Mercedes 124…” (România liberă, 14 ianuarie, 2003, p.
21). Dacă “a începe” face referire la un moment al acţiunii promovate, verbul “a apărea”
nu are o legătură directă cu acţiunea denumită, ci cu procesul în sine: “a apărut ocazia de
a…”. Conjugate la indicativ, perfect compus, aceste verbe denumesc activităţi tocmai
încheiate, care oferă receptorului ocazia de a acţiona în avantajul său. Adverbul “astăzi” nu
este foarte folosit şi, de obicei, i se adaugă o precizare: “Familia Vincreaţiu anunţă
dispariţia fulgerătoare a celui care a fost cel mai iubit soţ, tată, bunic şi profesor Viorel
Vincreaţiu. Înmormântarea va avea loc azi, 14 feb. ora 13”. În reclamele din reviste
“acum” are o conotaţie puţin diferită: “Acum există un deodorant de a cărui prospeţime te
poţi bucura în orice moment al zilei, de dimineaţa până seara” (deodorant Nivea); “Acum
poţi spăla atât de mult! Cu atât de puţin!” (Fairy). Acest “acum” nu mai are legătură cu
data de pe coperta revistei, ci reprezintă noutatea în domeniu (un nou produs din gama
Nivea, respectiv un nou detergent de vase).
În ediţiile promo sunt frecvente exprimările de tipul: “astă seară numai la PRO
TV”; “filme de acţiune toată săptămâna”; “filmele tale, filmele pe care ţi-ai dorit să le vezi
– săptămâna aceasta la ANTENA 1”; “toamna aceasta la HBO”, “vineri, la ora 20.00”.
Contextul comunicării are rol dezambiguizator: substantivele “seară”, “săptămână”,
“toamnă”, “vineri” denumesc o unitate precisă de timp, în raport cu momentul emiterii
mesajului.
Deixisul spaţial are mai puţine actualizări în textele publicitare. Anunţurile de ziar
folosesc adverbul “aici” pentru a “obliga” cititorul să se oprească asupra acelui mic
fragment din paginile întregi de anunţuri; nu dă indicii asupra produsului prezentat de
anunţ: “Aici! Angajăm agenţi pază…”; “Aici! Vând avantajos…”. În reclamele din reviste
sau cele TV, imaginea este un plus necesar de informaţie: “Efectele se simt de aproape”
(deodorant NIVEA). “Aproape” poate fi definit cu exactitate doar în funcţie de poziţia
vorbitorului faţă de ceva sau cineva. Imaginea explică ce înseamnă “aproape”. Spotul
publicitar pentru detergentul BONUX este conceput ca o conversaţie între două vecine,
ambele deţinătoare de pensiuni. Una dintre ele, Maria, are foarte mulţi oaspeţi, datorită
34

preţurilor avantajoase. Cealaltă, îngrijorată de inflaţia care o obligă să aibă preţuri ridicate
şi puţini clienţi, află de la Maria secretul succesului: folosirea detergentului BONUX. În
finalul spotului, când primeşte alte solicitări, Maria răspunde:
“- Am casa plină, dar vorbesc cu vecina să vă ia la ea.
- Dar nu e scump?
- Era. Acum e ca la mine.”
Acest “la mine” este un deictic spaţial care, prin raportare la emiţător, poate fi tradus în
contextul de mai sus astfel: “la pensiunea Maria”. În reclama pentru cardurile VISA,
obţinute prin HVB România, explicitarea este dată chiar în text: “… De ce tocmai card
VISA? Pentru că sunt carduri internaţionale acceptate în foarte, foarte multe locuri. Dacă
mai vrei şi alte motive, treci pe la noi. >, adică HVB România”.
Zilnic apar noi producţii publicitare. În calea spre succes, fiecare trebuie să găsească
“ceva” ce n-a avut precedenta, încât publicul s-o remarce, să o identifice, să reţină mesajul
şi să acţioneze (în cele mai multe cazuri este vorba despre a cumpăra produsul promovat).
Jocul între previzibil şi imprevizibil reprezintă o arie foarte largă de posibilităţi în
atingerea unui asemenea scop.
Notă:
* Trăsăturile dominante ale textului publicitar sunt enunţiative şi descriptive, dar, la acestea, se adaugă cele
narative şi argumenttive (v. P. Charaudeau, 1992).
Note bibliografice:
Charaudeau, P., Grammaire du sens et de l’expression, Paris, Hachette, 1992;
Du Marsais, Despre tropi, Bucureşti, Univers, 1981;
Lotman, J.M., Structure du texte artistique, Paris, 1973;
Stoichiţoiu-Ichim, A., Strategii persuasive în discursul publicitar, I, II, LL, 1997, vol 2, p.51-56, vol.3-4, p.
45-54;
Surse material:
România liberă, 28 mai, 2000,
România liberă, 14 ianuarie, 2003.
Abstract
More than in any other type of communication, the advertising text cultivates the ludic, under its
different aspects, at different levels, and, as it is the case with any game, there are predictable
sequences but there also are unpredictable situations which enhance the curiosity of the
participants. Different forms of repetitions oppose ambiguities, each of them playing a well
determined role. Our contribution is an analysis of the means which produce these stylistic
figures.
Résumé
Plus que dans tout autre situation de communication, le texte publicitaire cultive le ludique, sous
des aspects différents, aux niveaux différents et, comme dans tout jeu, il y a des séquences
prévisibles, mais aussi des situations imprévisibles qui agrandissent l’intérêt des participants. Les
figures de la répétition s’opposent à l’ambiguïté, chacune ayant un rôle bien déterminé. Cette
étude analyse des moyens de réalisation de ces figures.
Rezumat
Mai mult decât în orice alt tip de comunicare, textul publicitar cultivă ludicul, sub diversele lui
aspecte, şi, ca şi în cazul oricărui alt joc, există şi aici secveţe predictibile şi secvenţe
impredictibile care accentuează interesul participanţilor. Figurile discursului repetat se opun
ambiguităţilor, fiecare având un rol bine determinat. Prezentul studiu analizează mijloacele prin
care se realizează aceste figuri.
35

Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of GALAŢI
Fascicle XIII. New Series.
Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006
pp. 36 - 41
36
Language
and
Literature
PRESA CA ISTORIE ALTERNATIVĂ ÎN MOROMEŢII, DE MARIN
PREDA
Aplicaţii pe texte literare
Matei Damian
Studiul următor îşi propune un scurt excurs literar ca pretext al tratării unei
problematici extrem de interesante la nivelul subiectului de operă epică: presa şi rolul
acesteia ca motor al conflictului şi al evoluţiei personajelor. Vom începe cu o comparaţie
între romanele Ion, de Liviu Rebreanu, Moromeţii, de Marin Preda, respectiv comedia
Take, Ianke şi Cadîr, de Victor Ion Popa, pentru a ne deda apoi cu totul la delectarea cu
desenul media moromeţian.
Astfel, observăm diferenţe de viziune şi construcţie cu rădăcini adânci în creaţia
primilor doi autori. Spre a atinge problema impactului presei asupra lumii ţărăneşti a
Moromeţilor, ne vor fi de ajutor câteva idei ale lui Mihai Ungheanu, întru reliefarea
distincţiei ce trebuie făcută între cele două planete ale ruralului ce gravitează în opera lui
Rebreanu, respectiv a lui Marin Preda:
„Marin Preda refuză un erou de felul lui Ion, a cărui foame de pământ este
posesivă şi dezumanizantă. Eroul său, dealtfel, nici nu e sărac cu totul, aşa cum era fiul
Glanetaşului. […] Portretul Glanetaşului e făcut din punctul de vedere al unei optici pe
care Moromete ar fi ironizat-o. […] Celelalte calităţi ale lui sunt notate nu cu prea
multă consideraţie. Marin Preda semnalează la ţăran tocmai calităţile pentru care e
desconsiderat Glanetaşul. […]
(Ungheanu, 1973: 234-35)”
„Universul moromeţian cunoaşte o pasiune nouă pentru ceva mult mai puţin sau
aproape deloc concret, pentru ceva abstract, nepipăibil, o realitate depărtată. Dar ceea
ce este cu adevărat revoluţionar pentru mediul şi mentalitatea lui Ion este renunţarea la
pământ . Niculae refuză o proprietate care şi-ar fi putut ulterior manifesta furia ei
posesivă şi a cărei victimă este chiar tatăl său. El aspiră către eliberarea de sub tirania
pământului.[…]
(Ungheanu, 1973: 236)”
„Oamenii constată că loturile sunt extrem de importante pentru ei, dar reuşesc
un fel de detaşare pe care nu trebuie s-o căutăm în romanul Ion. Acolo pământul e
atotputernic, devorant. Marin Preda descrie un alt ţăran, cu altă mentalitate, din altă
perspectivă şi aceasta e cucerirea cea mai de preţ pentru literatura română.
(Ungheanu, 1973: 237)”
Tocmai refuzul învestirii factorului pământ cu rolul de motor al conflictelor face ca
atmosfera romanului Moromeţii să piardă din acea densitate distructivă proprie şi
Răscoalei. După cum preciza Mihai Ungheanu, Preda desenează un nou tip de ţăran, chiar
dacă nu vorbim încă despre Ilie Moromete, ceea ce se traduce neapărat în schimbarea de

aer; forţa deflagrantă a Răscoalei se naşte atât de verde din vectorul pământ încât, dacă
respiraţia e necesar roşie, atunci masele de ţărani nu pot fi decât negre: pare că însuşi
pământul explodează, ca răscolit de furie. De altfel, Miron Iuga pare înghiţit mai mult de o
glie-burete, îmbogăţită cu puţin trup de opincile şerbilor.
Dimpotrivă, romanul Moromeţii nu mestecă pământ, ci sol. După cum recunoaşte şi
M. Ungheanu, conflictele născute funciar sunt rare şi fac parte din lumina de scenă. Chiar
şi personajele protagoniste ale unor astfel de episoade sunt văzute ca marginale, interesantă
fiind şi perspectiva în care ogorul este lăsat în paragină spre a nu încurca treburile în
economia subiectului operei:
„Boţoghină e un personaj cu totul periferic: se îmbolnăveşte de plămâni şi
merge de mai multe ori la medic […] Şi totuşi, cu Boţoghină se întâmplă ceva. El face
un gest tot atât de nou şi de semnificativ ca al lui Niculae Moromete. Boţoghină acceptă
să vândă pământul pentru a se vindeca! Sfatul dat fără speranţă de medic cade pe un
teren rodnic: ţăranul secular, în stare să moară de oftică, dar să nu se atingă de
pământ, este infirmat de iniţiativa lui Boţoghină. Ni-l putem închipui pe Ion al
Glanetaşului vânzând pământ pentru a vindeca de boală pe vreunul din ai săi sau pe
sine?[…]
La fel de nejustificat în economia cărţii pare şi cuplul Birică-Polina. Dar în
acest caz, mai mult ca în celelalte, aspectul de replică ni se înfăţişează convingător.
Birică şi Polina fac o căsătorie din dragoste.[…]
Ca şi în cazul lui Niculae este refuzat pământul şi totodată întreţinută o
aspiraţie care depăşeşte cadrul material. Marin Preda alege personaje şi situaţii în care
vechea mentalitate ţărănească este învinsă de oameni care pun mai presus decât
pământul altceva. Boţoghină pune mai presus decât pământul propria viaţă, Niculae,
şcoala, Birică şi Polina, dragostea lor. Prozatorul Moromeţilor se opreşte asupra
oamenilor eliberaţi de instincte şi de ancestrale tiranii. El descoperă în mediul rural
apetenţe noi şi neobişnuite: puritatea erotică, aspiraţia intelectuală, pasiunea
adevărului. (Ungheanu, 1973: 237-39)”
Într-un astfel de peisaj se coace o gogoaşă de mătase nouă: în furibunda aspiraţie
intelectuală de care vorbeşte Mihai Ungheanu, descoperim o celulă a comentariului literar
pe text jurnalistic, un cenaclu şi o agenţie de presă în acelaşi timp: faimoasa Poiană a
finanţatorului Iocan. Precum caielele dintre buzele fierarului, se pierd într-o copită de cal
remarci ca ale învăţătorului Teodorescu: „Am citit ieri în ziare (dumneavoastră dacă nu
ştiţi carte, nu citiţi ziarele)… (Preda, 1981: 294)” sau furii pestriţe ca ale agentului
stăpânirii care vine să jecmănească un om de litere: „Şi mai face şi politică! […] E abonat
la ziar şi foncierea nu vrea s-o plătească. (Preda, 1981: 152)” Cum altfel, dacă nu într-un
climat al celor ce nu simt pământ sau nu iubesc ogor, s-ar fi putut constitui un astfel de
spaţiu, rupt de timp? Bomba cu hidrogen a Răscoalei nu lasă loc vreunui reviriment, însă
corul de creiere de la Iocan e astfel desenat încât să controleze eficient eventualele accese
de piromanie şi să detoneze profesionist roadele grenadelor puberului Ţugurlan. Acesta din
urmă, precum un copil care se forţează să-şi injecteze maturitate, pare a nu accepta din
principiu joaca celorlalţi: „Păi asta e politică ce faceţi voi?! ” , „Nu e nimic de capul
vostru! (Preda, 1981: 132-33)” Echipa de descarcerare trece la treabă extrem de prompt,
prin înşişi protagoniştii săi: Cocoşilă se rezumă la a-i relata rebelului un knock-out cazon
împotriva unuia „de două ori mai mare ca Dumitru lui Nae”, fără însă să se atingă de
Ţugurlan, în timp ce Moromete, fair-play, concluzionează că „trei chestiuni rezultă din cele
spuse de Ţugurlan (Preda, 1981: 134)” În speţă, sunt importante remarcile lui Mihai
Ungheanu, pe care-l cităm din nou:
37

„El aruncase vorbe grele, jignise pe toţi cei prezenţi, inclusiv pe Moromete, dar
prima reacţie a acestuia este să distingă în mânioasele fraze ale lui Ţugurlan o ordine,
un sens. Poate că nici o altă împrejurare nu defineşte mai bine spiritul lui Ilie
Moromete, rasa spirituală a omului, decât ciocnirea de la fierăria lui Iocan. El are
capacitatea de a depăşi evenimentul strict, de a se detaşa de întâmplări şi de a apela la
o operaţie de disociere care caută să menţină adunarea în planul ei de gândire iniţial.
(Ungheanu, 1973: 139)”
În aceeaşi ordine de idei, vom mai insista doar asupra „definiţiilor” pe care le dă
critica adunării din Poiană. Iată, pentru început, opinia Andreei Vlădescu:
„Poiana este […] adevărata scenă , spaţiul confruntărilor în spirit, al multiplicităţii
sensurilor posibile, cadrul privilegiat al deplinei libertăţi interioare, în care eroul joacă rolul
actorului oficiant. (Vlădescu, 1993: 208)”
Şi din nou Mihai Ungheanu:
„Poiana fierăriei lui Iocan este un forum. Aici oamenii se strâng pentru a se
informa, a schimba păreri şi a trăi cel puţin câteva ore pe zi într-un plan sufletesc epurat de
mizeria vieţii zilnice. (Ungheanu, 1973: 139)”
Aşadar, cum ar trebui să privim presa într-un astfel de spaţiu? La prima vedere,
doar ca un pretext pentru fiinţarea adunărilor din Poiană, fiindcă un crainic cum e
Moromete nu împarte informaţii, ci desparte ştirea de context grefându-i sensuri proprii. Îi
dăm cuvântul Andreei Vlădescu:
„În scena lecturii, Moromete face din comedia cuvântului un spectacol total,
marcându-l prin mişcare şi intonaţie. La el, cuvântul nu este spus, ci interpretat. […]
Moromete scoate cuvântul din context şi îi conferă un alt sens, proiectându-l din
realitatea sa specifică în lumea satului (Vlădescu, 1993: 209)”, pentru că „ameninţarea
istoriei este pusă între paranteze [şi] devine o comedie, după cum nici personajele care
intervin în repetate rânduri […] nu impun realitatea în jocul din poiană, deşi îi
conturează ameninţările. Pentru lumea interioară, nu există acum un alt univers decât
cel al scenei pe care se desfăşoară jocul spiritului: realitatea agasantă pentru eu
aparţine unui alt spaţiu, situat dincolo de acest cadru. (Vlădescu, 1993: 210)”
Deci ziarul este până la urmă un instrument al ieşirii din istorie; informaţia timpului
imediat care apare în presă este concentrată pe un spaţiu mult mai mic, cel al satului, însă
este adusă spre un când fabulos, aproape atemporal. Prin urmare, dacă la nivelul masei din
Răscoala presa este inexistentă, fiind tradusă în mutanţi de felul unor vestitori serafici, în
cazul grupului de la fierărie impactul ziarului rămâne subdezvoltat în esenţă, nedepăşind
stadiul de machetă, de capodoperă a pretextelor. Se iţesc sporadice abonamente la ziar
(Moromete, Iocan, Cocoşilă), însă e clar că schisma juvenilă dintre opinii nu-şi are obârşia
defel în faptul că cei trei abonaţi primesc ziare diferite. Astfel de divergenţe media nu
funcţionează decât ca peceţi ale indignării celor din afara grupului sau ca mărci ale
incertului domino de culoare politică pe care-l joacă protagoniştii.
Mai trebuie menţionate două aspecte interesante, care împing Moromeţii spre
statutul de zonă de tranziţie rural-urban; fiindcă avem în vedere tipul micului
burghez/funcţionar/negustor, vom evidenţia cele de mai sus tot printr-o trimitere la Mihai
Ungheanu, care detectează o arie de apropiere între cei doi poli:
„Cu excepţia lui Ţugurlan, Cocoşilă şi, desigur, Iocan, eroii lui [Marin Preda]
sunt în materie de politică nişte puri. Cazul cel mai ilustrativ este Ilie Moromete. În felul
lui de a gândi politica sunt trăsături care îl pun alături de eroii lui M. Sebastian sau
Camil Petrescu. Apropierea pare exagerată, cu atât mai mult cu cât aceştia sunt eroi de
marcă intelectuală şi citadină ai unor scriitori de pronunţat accent intelectual şi, mai
38

ales, de program literar antirural. Târâţi de curentul absorbant al mişcării politice, şi
unii, şi alţii, însă, indiferent de extracţia socială (s.n.), nu-şi pierd trăsăturile sufleteşti
şi, subliniez, cele intelectuale. Ei sfârşesc dezarmaţi, învinşi, dar consecvenţi. Nu alta
este soarta lui Ilie Moromete. […] Nu dezvăluie aceeaşi incompatibilitate cu politica,
aceeaşi forţă de a rămâne integri, eroii prozelor lui Camil Petrescu? Diferenţele sunt cu
mult mai mici decât s-ar crede. (Ungheanu, 1973: 141-42)”
În acelaşi ton, Ungheanu continuă:
„Urbanizarea literaturii se clădea teoretic pe discreditul de principiu pe care-l
primea orice creaţie ce încerca să folosească materia lumii rurale. Manifestele
citadinismului literar sunt cunoscute. Unul din cei mai febrili şi consecvenţi combatanţi,
dacă nu cel mai proeminent, a fost Camil Petrescu. Surpriza este de a găsi coordonate
comune între proza lui şi aceea a lui Marin Preda, între tipologia personajelor lui şi
cele ale lui Marin Preda. Colocviile de la fierăria lui Iocan sunt testul decisiv al acestei
apropieri. (Ungheanu, 1973: 143)”
Aşadar, iată prima dimensiune a liniei evolutive Răscoala - Moromeţii: de la ruralul
pur la cel intelectualizat, de la PĂMÂNT la pământ, de la vestitorul oral la comentariul
activ al faptului de presă scrisă.
În aceeaşi ordine de idei păşeşte în lumină şi a doua dimensiune, rezumată de
această dată de către Andreea Vlădescu; este disecat aici nu vectorul colocviilor din
Poiană, ci însăşi viziunea moromeţiană asupra politicului, sub aspect discursiv. Sursa e
identificată pe coordonatele trasate anterior de M. Ungheanu:
„Atitudinea lui Moromete şi modalitatea sa de a descifra sensul ascuns sunt
raportabile la memorabila scenă a lecturii gazetei din O noapte furtunoasă. Ca şi Ipingescu,
eroul acordă cuvântului abstract un sens concret, prin stabilirea la nivelul formei a unei
false analogii. (Vlădescu, 1993: 209)”
Glisăm astfel dinspre uliţă spre mahala. În tratarea impactului presei, trebuie
relevată mai întâi extrema importanţă a factorului tabiet în citirea, zilnică sau nu, a gazetei.
Vom merge pe mâna câtorva exemple, fără să neglijăm totodată fotografierea paletei de
variante ale factorului în discuţie. Prima dintre acestea se constituie în formarea
„jurnalului” ca spaţiu securizant, în care protagonistul evadează nu de puţine ori. Presa ca
pretext apare şi aici, însă nivelul actului, ca şi obiectul, sunt diferite; pretextualul nu se
precipită de astă dată în umor, spre evadare, fiindcă discuţiile de la Iocan raportau
prezentul la un alt prezent, un spaţiu la altul. Vorbeam în acel caz de evadarea din realul
imediat înspre unul fabricat, având ziarul ca intermediar. Aici, în schimb, realitatea e însuşi
ziarul (ca nud suport scris); acesta e folosit crunt, având o utilitate aproape organică, de
vreme ce conţinutul trece constant în plan secundar. Asistăm în acest prim act urban la
naşterea unei linii involutive: presa scrisă trece de la nivelul de subiect (ridiculizat sau nu)
la sub-nivelul de obiect. Vom vedea cum.
Una dintre verigile cosmopolitului trio de protagonişti ai comediei Take, Ianke şi
Cadîr, de V. I. Popa, este Ianke, tatăl Anei. Cum joaca bătrânească a evreului cu Take
explodează neverosimil într-un conflict (e drept, cu rădăcini de scurt-circuit religios),
încercările de evadare, formale sau nu, devin din ce în ce mai dese, indiferent de mijloace.
În a patra scenă a actului II citim:
„IANKE (enervat, desface jurnalul): Ai văzut? Iar s-au omorât opt astăzi!
[…](Ianke, furios, vâră nasul în jurnal). (Popa, 1969: 246-47)” Nu ne vom mira deci dacă
ziarul va mai rămâne un moment în prim-plan şi la începutul scenei următoare:
„TAKE (intră posomorât): Poftă mare, jidane. (Ianke citeşte ziarul.) Ei, n-auzi mă
frate? Poftă mare! (Popa, 1969: 247)” Vom construi deci facil tandemul ziar (pretext) –
39

stare sufletească (context). Citind ziarul, Ianke este mai întâi „enervat”, apoi de-a dreptul
„furios”; doar „posomorât”, Take intră în scenă drept în faţa unui Ianke fără cap: între ei se
interpune gazeta, contaminată (sau contaminantă?!) de dispoziţia toxică a celui ce o citeşte.
Totuşi, şi acest ultim verb poate fi decapitat extrem de uşor: citeşte într-adevăr Ianke
jurnalul? În acest video al scenei a patra, paginile hârtiei de presă foşnesc brusc, evaziv,
într-o mitraliere de stări sufleteşti. E greu de crezut, deci, că evreul citeşte; mult mai
plauzibilă pare lecturarea la repezeală a unui titlu care îi sare în ochi, şi acesta (cum altfel?)
lipit de propriile gânduri şi stări de moment.
În acelaşi context e imperios necesară clădirea unei alăturări cu romanul Moromeţii,
luat mai devreme în discuţie. Întru justificarea aceloraşi coordonate ale involuţiei,
aparţinând acum doar cărţii lui Preda, îl vom cita din nou pe Mihai Ungheanu:
„Dar fisura s-a produs. Poiana lui Iocan va mai găzdui întruniri, dar ele îşi vor
pierde vechea aură, deoarece furia devastatoare a obscurelor forţe care au dus la căderea lui
Ilie Moromete au devastat şi forum-ul local. Întâlnirile ce se ţin aici nu mai sunt decât un
simulacru al fostelor întâlniri. (Ungheanu, 1973: 192)” Celebra „decădere” a şefului
Moromeţilor poate fi tradusă nu numai tradiţional (mult lopătata tăiere a salcâmului, scena
în care fiul cel mare se aşază pe locul care îi aparţinuse doar tatălui etc.), ci şi în termenii
prezentei discuţii. Trecând prin disecarea aproape gastronomică a ziarului, în fierăria lui
Iocan, vom avea sub ochi, spre finalul primului volum, scena următoare:
„- Ilie! şopti mama înspăimântată. Ce-i facem?!
Era la prânz, se aflau toţi în tindă şi aşteptau masa. Hârtia o adusese poşta,
odată cu ziarul. Moromete nici măcar n-o citise, îşi aruncase doar ochii pe plic, văzuse
titulatura băncii şi-l lăsase pe Niculae să-l deschidă. El răsfoia ziarul şi când mama
puse întrebarea ei înspăimântată, se supără şi se răsti la ea… (Preda, 1981: 428)”
Fragmentăm deliberat pasajul pentru câteva momente spre a reliefa situaţia:
protagonistul nu poate accepta stadiul actual în care a ajuns familia, cel al obişnuitei
bunăstări acum ameninţate. El caută să păstreze prin atitudine cadenţa evoluţiei familiei în
vechiul ritm; adiţional, citirea ziarului trebuie să se desfăşoare pe aceleaşi coordonate,
împreună cu refuzul făţiş al celulozei de altă sorginte. După vechiul tipar al ridiculizării
superioare a „percitorului”, plicul cu „titulatura băncii” este scuipat spre Niculae. Tatăl îşi
aruncă „doar ochii” pe plic, preferând să citească ziarul, însă reversul e necruţător: foarte
curând, Moromete va fi constrâns să-şi sporească atenţia vizavi de plicuri şi ştampile, astfel
că ziarul cade inevitabil spre nivelul „Ianke”, cel de mască lipsită de raţiunea literei. De
altfel, pe parcursul aceluiaşi pasaj, Moromete a renunţat deja la citirea ziarului. Analogiile
de atmosferă cu piesa lui V. I. Popa sunt uimitoare:
„- Ce e, fa, ce vreai tu? Nu ştiai? Sau credeai că ăia au uitat? Se supără şi mai
rău (s.n.) şi continuă: Credeai că au pus lacăt la bancă şi s-au dus la secere ca tine?! Se
posomorî, îşi vîrî fruntea în ziar (s.n.) şi încheie: Uite colo caii în grajd şi oile… Ne
ducem la obor, vindem şi gata socoteala!
[…] O să curgă trenţele de pe noi şi-o să ajungem ca şofranul.
Moromete se posomorî, îşi vîrî fruntea în ziar şi nu mai zise nimic.(s.n.)
(Preda, 1981: 428-29)”, pe când „Ianke, furios, îşi vâră nasul în jurnal.” Aceeaşi
reacţie defensivă în faţa realităţii necruţătoare, având ca paravan ziarul, uneşte ţăranul
şi negustorul de „târguşor provincial”.
Fără pretenţia de a friza completul, acest material s-a vrut a fi ceva mai mult decât
un inventar: anume o trecere în revistă a dimensiunii media ca o componentă a genezei şi
evoluţiei subiectului literar.
40

REFERINŢE:
Popa, V. I. (1969). Take, Ianke şi Cadîr, Bucureşti: Editura de Stat pentru Literatură şi Artă
Ungheanu, M. (1973). Marin Preda: vocaţie şi aspiraţie, Bucureşti: Editura Eminescu
Preda, M. (1981). Moromeţii, vol. I, Bucureşti: Editura Cartea Românească
Vlădescu, A. (1993). Marin Preda sau triumful conştiinţei, Bucureşti: Editura Cartea Românească
Abstract
The present study casts a few beams on the fact of press in the novel Moromeţii, by Marin Preda.
We shall not limit ourselves to just narrating the commentaries on the newspaper information
form Poiana lui Iocan (Iocan’s clearing) but we intend to highlight the double role of the written
press in the evolution of the main character: the history reduced to the dimensions of the rural,
on the one hand and the newspaper as a pretext for claustration, for an acute state of denial, on
the other hand. We shall see that the both instances belong to history: the former, no matter how
goodwilling is built artificially, so it will not stand the seige of the latter which is cruel and
irrevocable.
Résumé
La présente étude propose quelques „rayons” jetés sur le fait de presse dans le roman Moromeţii
de Marin Preda. Nous n’allons pas nous limiter à une description des commentaires sur
l’information journalistique de Poiana lui Iocan (le bois de Iocan), mais nous voulons mettre en
évidence le double rôle de la presse écrite dans l’évolution du personnage principal : l’histoire
réduite au niveau rural, d’un coté et, de l’autre coté, le journal en tant que prétexte de la
claustration, de l’état du refus absolu. Nous verrons que les deux hypostases appartiennent à
l’histoire : la première, quelque bienveillante qu’elle soit, est construite d’une manière
artificielle, de sorte qu’elle ne résiste pas à l’assaut de la deuxième, cruelle et irrévocable.
Rezumat
Prezentul studiu propune câteva raze aruncate asupra faptului de presă în romanul Moromeţii,
de Marin Preda. Nu ne limităm la a relata comentariile pe marginea informaţiei de ziar din
Poiana lui Iocan, ci dorim a evidenţia dublul rol al presei scrise în evoluţia personajului
principal: istoria redusă la rural, pe de o parte, şi ziarul ca pretext al claustrării, al stării acute
de refuz, pe de altă parte. Vom vedea că ambele ipostaze aparţin istoriei: prima, oricât de
binevoitoare, este construită artificial, astfel că nu va rezista la asediul celei de-a doua, crudă şi
irevocabilă.
41

Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of GALAŢI
Fascicle XIII. New Series.
Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006
pp. 42 - 45
42
Language
and
Literature
ISAAC ASIMOV VS. THE FRANKENSTEIN COMPLEX
Petru Iamandi
To Isaac Asimov, who calls the fear of mechanical intelligence the “Frankenstein
complex” (Warrick, 2002:170), machines just take over dehumanizing activities and thus
allow humans to become more human. “The […] computer,” he states, “is far superior at
those mental tasks that are dull, repetitive, stultifying and degrading, leaving to human
beings themselves the far greater work of creative thought in every field from art and
literature to science and ethics.” (Warrick, 2002:170)
Literarily, Asimov upholds his statement by the three laws of robotics that he himself
devised, analogous to the Ten Commandments in the Old Testament (Moore, 1976:101):
1. A robot may not injure a human being nor, through inaction, allow a human being
to come to harm.
2. A robot must obey the orders given it by human beings except where such orders
would conflict with the First Law.
3. A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict
with the First or Second Law. (Asimov, 1983:269-270).
These laws, which are obviously designed to protect humans from any harm resulting
directly or indirectly from the action of a robot, are written into the robot’s positronic brain.
More than that, in Asimov’s stories at least, only robots with this powerful safeguard are
produced and they are manufactured by the same company - United States Robots and
Mechanical Men, Inc.
Asimov’s laws, however, are more like moral rules that can be easily broken, many
of their features resembling those of traditional ethical norms, as Susan Calvin, on of the
characters in “Evidence” (1946), says:
[…] if you stop to think of it, the three Rules of Robotics are the essential guiding
principles of a good many of the world’s ethical systems. Of course, every human
being is supposed to have the instinct of self-preservation. That’s Rule Three to a
robot. Also every “good” human being, with a social conscience and a sense of
responsibility, is supposed to defer authority […] even when they interfere with his
comfort or his safety. That’s Rule Two to a robot. Also, every “good” human being is
supposed to love others as himself, protect his fellow man, risk his life to save another.
That’s Rule One to a robot. (Asimov, 1983:530)
The main difference is that, while robots invariably submit to these rules, humans tend to
break them all the time. Maybe that is the reason why the same Susan Calvin adds, “I like
robots. I like them considerably better than I do human beings.” (Asimov, 1983:544)
Although the robots’ behaviour seems irrational sometimes, scientific investigation proves

not only the opposite but also that their rationality, of a strictly mechanical nature, “is the
answer to social and moral problems.” (Wolfe, 1979:158).
Asimov’s themes
Many of Asimov’s robot stories explore the way in which the three laws influence the manmachine
relationship, the author rarely using dramatic conflict to develop his plot. It is a
puzzle or problem that he more often than not brings to the foreground and the suspense
thus created moves the plot forward. The action is more cerebral than physical and follows
the scientific method pattern: defining the puzzle/problem; collecting and evaluating the
data; forming the hypothesis and the possible solution; testing the solution and, if this is not
correct, re-examining the process until discovering the difficulty.
Identity confusion. Although Asimov strongly insists that, “My robots were
machines designed by engineers, not pseudo-men created by blasphemers” (Frude,
1984:89), he deliberately creates confusion between robots and people. Some of his
characters appear as robots firs, to be revealed as people later, while in other stories the
process is reversed or ambiguity is preserved until the end, leaving the reader in a state of
uncertainty. In “Evidence,” for instance, Susan Calvin is called in to help decide whether a
prominent politician is a human or a robot. Resorting to the three laws, she uses the
following line of reasoning: if the politician obeys the laws, he could be either a human or a
robot; if he does not obey the laws, he cannot be a robot, therefore he is a man. The minute
the politician punches an opponent the problem seems to be solved, but Calvin explains
that a robot might appear to break the first law only when the “person” harmed is not a
human but a robot.
Humanization. Even when their identity is not in doubt, Asimov’s robots get
features which humanize them. The author carefully provides not only their specific
physical details but also their personality characteristics, creating essentially human
“personalities” which push the basic function of the machines into the background.
Such engaging robots often stimulate emotional attachments in the humans around
them, as in Asimov’s first robot story, “Robbie” (1940), in which the machine listens in
rapt attention while Gloria, an eight-year-old girl, reads him his favourite fairy tale. Since
Robbie enjoys all Gloria’s games, the girl’s mother gets worried, in spite of her husband
reassuring her that, “Robbie was constructed for only one purpose really – to be the
companion of a little child. His entire ‘mentality’ has been created for the purpose. He just
can’t help being faithful and loving and kind. He’s a machine – made so.” (Asimov,
1983:171) Robbie’s impact on Gloria is extreme, the girl preferring to spend all her time
with him and, when her mother replaces him with a dog, she screams, “He was not no
machine. […] He was a person just like you and me and he was my friend. I want him
back.” (Asimov, 1983:175)
The relationship between robots and the humans they interact with can also be
maternal or romantic. Susan Calvin, a psychologist specialized in robot psychology, tends
to treat robots as colleagues and in “Lennie” (1958) she teaches a retarded robot to speak,
his first words being, “Mommie, I want you. I want you, Mommie” (Asimov, 1983:384).
And the psychologist hurries longingly toward “the only kind of baby she could ever have
or love” (Asimov, 1983:384).
Most of Asimov’s robots are male and this limits the possibility for human-machine
romantic relationships. There is no femme fatale robot in his stories, the explanation being
indirectly offered by one of the characters in “Feminine Intuition” (1969): “No woman
wants to feel replaceable by something with none of her faults” (Asimov, 1983:582)
43

In “Satisfaction Guaranteed” (1951), however, Asimov does not reject the possibility that a
woman might fall in love with one of his robots. Claire Belamont is irresistibly attracted
toward Tony, a sophisticated robot, extremely handsome and well-mannered. Soon Claire
will share all his emotional problems and be impressed by the robot’s understanding
attitude: “Why did she keep forgetting that he was a machine. […] Was she so starved for
sympathy that she would accept a robot as an equal - because he sympathized?” (Asimov,
1983:357) But while Tony behaves according to the three laws of robotics, Clair gives vent
to her passion to later discover that “machines can’t fall in love, but – even when it’s
hopeless and horrifying – women can!” (Asimov, 1983:367)
The robots’ rights and evolution is the theme of Asimov’s masterpiece, a novella
called The Bicentennial Man (1976). Told in twenty-three episodes, it covers two hundred
years in the life of the robot Andrew Martin. Inverting the classical approach – man
examining artificial intelligence – Asimov has Andrew explore the nature and implications
of human intelligence.
At first, Andrew is a household robot that serves the Martin family, much the role
of Robbie. But Andrew produces exquisite wood carvings, an unusual talent which, as a
robopsychologist suggests, must be the result of a mutation of the robot’s positronic brain.
Andrew’s owner realizes there might be a market for the robot’s works of art and opens a
bank account in the robot’s name. Andrew uses the money to pay for his own repairs and,
when he has grown rich enough, he declares he wants to buy his freedom. Since this is a
legal matter, the Martin family takes the case to court. After a long struggle, the court
declares Andrew free stating that, “There is no right to deny freedom to any object with a
mind advanced enough to grasp the concept and desire the state.” (Asimov, 1983:646)
Andrew has a house built near his former owner’s, begins to wear clothes, which
make him feel human, and decides to go to the public library in order to increase his
understanding of human affairs. On his way to the library two young men accost him, ask
him to take off his clothes, and want to dismantle him. Saved in the nick of time, Andrew
hires a lawyer and starts to fight for robot rights. In his plea, the lawyer says that, “a robot
is not insensible; it is not an animal. It can think well enough to enable it to talk to us,
reason with us, joke with us. Can we treat them as friends, can we work together with them,
and not give them some of the fruit of that friendship, some of the benefit of co-working?
[…] With great power goes great responsibility, and if the robots have Three Laws to
protect men, is it too much to ask that men have a law or two to protect robots?” (Asimov,
1983:656-657) Finally the principle of robot rights is established.
Andrew writes a history of robots and intends to use the royalties to replace his
mechanical body by an organic android structure. After a long series of operations his
metal shell is replaced with the type of body he has longed for. Nevertheless, Andrew is far
from being happy. By now generations of Martins have passed and the robot realizes that
mortality is a necessary condition of humanness. And he makes the ultimate sacrifice – he
gives up his deathless inorganic brain to fulfil his greatest dream: to be as nearly human as
possible.
Asimov’s novella, as Patricia Warrick points out, follows both the movement of
mechanical intelligence toward human intelligence and death, and man’s development of
technology and movement toward artificial intelligence and immortality (Warrick,
2002:177) Knowledge eventually dies in the organic brain, but it can survive in a
mechanical one. Thus the inorganic form may well be the only form for the survival of
intelligence in the universe. A second implication of the novella is that the line between the
organic and the inorganic seems to be extremely blurred. If the essential elements of the
universe are matter, energy, and intelligence, then man is not unique, on the contrary he
exists on a continuum with all intelligence, and ethical behaviour extends to all systems
44

ecause any organizational pattern – human or nonhuman, organic or inorganic –
represents intelligence – a “sacred view of the universe, the result not of religious
mysticism but of pure logic” (Warrick, 2002:177).
REFERENCES
Asimov, Isaac. (1983). The Complete Robot, London: Grafton Books.
Frude, Neil. (1984). The Robot Heritage, London: Guild Publishing.
Moore, Maxine. (1976). “Asimov, Calvin, and Moses” in T. D. Clareson (ed.), Voices forthe Future:
Essays on Major Science Fiction Writers, vol. 1, Bowling Green: The Bowling Green University
Popular Press.
Warrick, Patricia S. (2002) “Asimov and the Morality of Artificial Intelligence” in Jesse G.
Cunningham (ed.), Science Fiction, San Diego: Greenhaven Press, Inc.
Wolfe, Gary K. (1979). The Known and the Unknown, Kent: The Kent State UP.
Abstract
In his stories, Isaac Asimov rejects the fear of artificial intelligence, which he calls the
Frankenstein Complex, claiming that machines, no matter how advanced they are, cannot but
ease man’s life by taking over the most dehumanizing activities. The author upholds this idea by
putting forward the so-called laws of robotics which, being inserted in the robots’ minds,
prevents them from affecting man’s integrity. Asimov’s stories, whose favourite themes are
confusing identity, humanization, robots’ rights and evolution, ingeniously show that, no matter
how hard they try, robots are not able to betray the human beings; on the contrary, their
irresistable temptation is to be taken for them.
Résumé
Dans ses contes, Isaac Asimov rejette la crainte de l’intelligence artificielle qu’il nomme le
« complexe Frankenstein », soutenant l’idée que les machines, quelques évoluées qu’elles soient,
ne font qu’alléger la vie de l’homme, en prenant la charge de ses plus deshumanisantes activités.
L’auteur traduit son idée par l’élaboration des soi-disant lois de la robotique qui, par l’insertion
dans le cerveau des robots, empêchent ces derniers de porter atteinte à l’intégrité de l’homme.
Ces contes où les thèmes de prédilection sont la mêlée des identités, l’humanisation, les droits et
l’évolution des robots, démontrent avec ingéniosité que les robots, quoi qu’ils fassent, ne peuvent
trahir les gens mais, bien au contraire, éprouvent l’irrésistible tentation de se confondre avec
eux.
Rezumat
In povestirile lui, Isaac Asimov respinge teama de inteligenţa artificială, pe care o numeşte
„Complexul Frankenstein”, susţinând că maşinile, indiferent cât de evoluate ar fi, nu fac decât să
uşureze viaţa omului prin preluarea celor mai dezumanizante activităţi. Autorul îşi susţine ideea
prin elaborarea aşa-numitelor legi ale roboticii care, prin inserţia în creierul roboţilor, îi
împiedică pe aceştia să atenteze într-un fel sau altul la integritatea omului. Povestirile lui, în care
temele predilecte sunt confundarea identităţii, umanizarea, drepturile şi evoluţia roboţilor,
demonstrează cu ingeniozitate că, oricât de mult ar încerca, roboţii nu-i pot trăda pe oameni ci,
dimpotrivă, tentaţia lor irezistibilă este de a se confunda cu ei.
45

Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of GALAŢI
Fascicle XIII. New Series.
Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006
pp. 46 - 52
46
Language
and
Literature
OMOTETII FRACTALE ÎN MEMENTO MORI DE M.EMINESCU
Nicoleta Ifrim
Exacerbând algebricul şi analiticul în defavoarea imaginii, gândirea ştiinţifică
modernă se depărtează progresiv de dinamica plurală a formelor, preferând unilateralul
obiect fizic, fapt comentat de B.Mandelbrot în eseul Zbor deasupra limbajelor fractale, în
Obiectele fractale, ediţia a treia din 1989. Teoreticianul fractalilor aduce în discuţie
problematica crizei ştiinţifice actuale, în condiţiile în care individul devine martorul
genezei unei noi ştiinţe care postulează primatul imaginii şi care nu mai aderă la absolutul
nonfiguralului abstract. „Gândirea prin intermediul imaginilor” devine astfel o modalitate
de apropriere a lumii, dar şi a universului poetic; căci,
„dacă aşa cum crede Mandelbrot, geometria fractală reprezintă o reacţie a imaginii
împotriva ascezei iconoclaste a gândirii algebrice, atunci speranţa într-o nouă ştiinţă revine
în fond la nostalgia privind reintegrarea vechiului tip de imaginar, pe suprimarea căruia,
tocmai, ştiinţa modernă se edificase [...] Poate că ceea ce este implicat în această nouă
dispută a imaginilor este de fapt reintegrarea unui subiect cunoscător reconciliat cu propria
sa istorie, adică, în fond, cu întregul cuprins al ontologiei sale. Regăsim astfel, la omul
european, faptul că imaginalul reapare latent atunci când revendicarea nevoii de imaginar
este mai nestăvilită.” (Patapievici, 2005:292)
La rândul său, creatorul se află sub incidenţa unor astfel de forţe fenomenologicformatoare
care dirijează tacit raportul cu transcendenţa, căutată mai ales în decodificarea
figurală a „stărilor interioare”, poetic marcate de trăirea / devenirea temporală. Intrând în
„jocul cu timpul”, eul nu se află subjugat acestuia, ci îi imaginează metamorfozele, căci
„virtualizându-se, subiectul scapă câte puţin devenirii; el nu mai face propriuzis
parte din ea, ci devine capabil dimpotrivă de a o domina şi integra în largă măsură.
Din aceeaşi cauză el se temporalizează. În loc de a fi purtat de ea, subiectul o înţelege,
graţie virtualităţilor care se constituie în mod uman. Deoarece se potenţializează, omul
devine prin intermediul gândirii survolare a timpului şi capacitate de a rosti lumea.”
(Jacob apud Chioaru 2000: 13)
Nu altceva spune eminescianul vers din Epigonii, care sugerează o construcţie
virtuală, temporal marcată, a lumii drept coerenţă a imaginii: „Ochiul vostru vedea-n lumea
de icoane un palat.”
Pornind de la aceste premise, de la nevoia acută de potenţare a „setei de imagine”,
poemul Memento mori se decriptează prin mecanismul fractal al complexităţii figurale
inculcate de „starea interior-poetică” a eului eminescian, care urmează traseul „punerii în
formă” pe direcţia matrice – realizat. Poemul adoptă o structură conceptual – fractalică ce
acţionează asupra gândirii creatoare eminesciene drept „configuraţie euristică” (H.-
R.Patapievici), care modelează intrinsec forma internă a reprezentărilor poetice. „Plonjarea

în istoricitate” se transformă în paradigmă creatoare ce implică un mecanism
mandelbrotian de actualizare în universul poetic, cel al generării de forme prin reiterare
fractală. Procedeul cere în subsidiar o necesară schimbare de focalizare critică, de la
unitatea textuală individuală la observarea simetriilor recursive între nivelele textualpoetice.
Convertind stările interioare în analogii figurale, discursul poetic din Memento
mori construieşte vizionar un parcurs al „trecerii” contemplative prin forme de civilizaţie,
pe baza unui generator de tip mandelbrotian, „reproducerea în abis, prin diferenţe, a
autosimilarelor” sau „creşterea prin amplificare / diferenţiere” şi generând, „fără a-şi pierde
identitatea, forme şi conţinuturi non-identice.” (Patapievici: 288) Coexistenţa formelor
istoricizate în acelaşi univers al poemului, determinate de principiul mandelbrotian al
expansiunii, legitimează subtextual figura geometrică a fractalului, promovând drept fir
director al gândirii eminesciene „regula identicilor diferiţi” despre care vorbeşte
Patapievici, în contextul mai larg al filosofiei religiilor:
„Oricare secvenţă a reproducerii similare este autosimilară în oricare din
părţile ei, astfel că va exista mereu o dimensiune care să pună în evidenţă diferitul şi o
alta care să evidenţieze identicul. Această serie infinită, generată prin angrenarea de
identic şi diferit după o regulă a autosimilarităţii, poartă în matematică numele de
fractal. Figura geometrică a creştinismului pare a fi, astfel, fractalul. (Fireşte, eu nu
operez aici cu identificări ontologice, de tipul creştinismul este un fractal: susţin mai
degrabă ideea că noţiunea de fractal este consecinţa unei anumite traduceri, în limbaj
natural, a unei realităţi teologice creştine, bazată şi ea pe autosimilarităţi şi solidarităţi
de tip formă / conţinut, rezultate din modul în care limbajul a putut primi revelaţia
creştină).” (Patapievici:277)
În acest sens, am putea afirma că, în Memento mori, figura geometrică a
imaginarului eminescian, cea care îi poate surprinde complexităţile dinamice dar şi
autosimilarităţile interioare, este fractalul, ceea ce reconfigurează morfo-genezic
dominantele romantice ale onirismului de tip thanatic. Sau, viziunea fractalică devine un
adevărat „model cosmologic”, aşa cum este definit acesta de Ioana Em.Petrescu:
„Considerăm că modelul cosmologic constituie o realitate de profunzime a viziunii,
depăşind în adâncime nivelul conştiinţei teoretice (ştiinţifice), dar şi nivelul materialului
mitic din care se constituie viziunile cosmogonice explicite din operele literare, pentru că
modelul cosmologic este expresia sentimentului existenţei în lume, a raporturilor originare
pe care fiinţa le stabileşte cu universul.” (Ioana Em.Petrescu, 2005:21) Orientat spre
surprinderea devenirii continue a universului, care creşte imploziv prin repetitivitatea
diferenţiată a propriilor autosimilarităţi, modelul cosmologic fractalic din Memento mori
îşi revelă propria esenţă principială în potenţarea poetică a consubstanţialităţii fiinţă –
univers, o reintegrare a statutului ontologic în diversitatea morfogenezică a lumii la care
are acces prin contemplare onirică şi descătuşare thanatică. Vorbim, în acest context,
despre spaţiul onirico-thanatic ca fundal pentru proiectarea mecanismului fractal al
autosimilarităţii, care permite creşterea interioară a complexităţii viziunilor poematice prin
asumarea raportului infinit (ieşire din formă şi plonjare în multiplicitatea istorizată) – finit
(actualizare şi punere în formă conotată temporal).
Această relaţie dinamică bi-univocă păstrează ceva din amprenta paradigmei
romantice, care operează cu transgresiuni vizionare ale spaţio-temporalităţii spre a
surprinde mecanismul universal al rotirii civilizaţiilor, căci
„eul liric din Memento mori, păscându-şi , pune stăpânire pe
roata istoriei, renaşte din haos lumile cuprinse de moarte şi devine spectatorul
triumfului viitor al nefiinţei. Îndeosebi prin intermediul somnului şi visului sunt puse în
47

valoare virtualităţile ilimitării. Graţie acestora, eul capătă demiurgie, forţele gândului
se descătuşează, se ascultă şi se înfăptuiesc, iar poetul îşi subordonează haosul
pătrunzându-l de propria-i coerenţă. Trecerea din planul vigil în cel oniric este
echivalentă, mai totdeauna, cu ieşirea din claustrare în fără margini: ” (Melian, 1987:11)
De de altă parte, coexistenţa avatarică a lumilor circumscrise istoric din Memento
mori conferă esenţă unui Weltanschauung eminescian, din care nu poate lipsi
„ideea de moarte privită ca un corolar al ideii de viaţă. Ea nu numai că a fost
una din cele patru mari teme romantice pe lângă natură, iubire, şi divinitate, ci chiar un
sentiment, din ale cărei trăiri s-au chintesenţiat idei generale, unele care ţin de
domeniul religiei ca ideea de reîncarnare progresivă şi regresivă (palingeneza şi
metempsihoza), ca şi ideea de reminiscenţă (anamnesis), adesea prezentă în intuiţia
omului de geniu. Domeniul psihologic a fost îmbogăţit cu noţiunea de archaeus, în
înţeles monadic sau de arhetip platonic. Vieţile în succesiunea lor fiind experienţe în
care arhetipul s-a transpus. Totalitatea acestor vieţi ar fi sau
, pe când eternitatea din arheu e sau
[...]. La Eminescu, moartea nu-i definitivă pentru că geniul ei nu-i decât
al unei eternităţi cu graniţi [...]. Problema morţii se poate însă întregi în
Weltanschauung-ul eminescian alături de categorii ca devenire, unitate, infinit, timp şi
spaţiu chemate să explice prezenţa unui Univers deschis. La Eminescu, sugestiile pe
care le oferă poezia şi preocupările sale fragmentare de filosofie, atrag atenţia asupra
unor atribute fundamentale ale cosmosului, cum ar fi eternitatea şi schimbarea continuă
pe care poetul le-a numit . [...] Ideea de univers închis nu
mai putea fi acceptată, şi apercepţia romantică îl ducea fără echivoc la starea de
pluralitate a lumilor, proliferantă pentru fantezia romantică. Corespondenţele vizibile
între om şi cosmos pe care geniile le-au intuit prin gândirea lor mitică, puteau fi
sugestia unui cosmos a cărui existenţă e numai circulară, cum întâlnim în Cu mâne
zilele-ţi adaugi, Glossă, Scrisoarea I. Pe tot atâtea argumente pledează pentru un
univers ce se dezvoltă în spirală, idee mai aproape de evoluţionismul şi proteismul
romantic.” (Aurel Petrescu, 1985: 65-66)
Actualizând o adevărată „vocaţie a visului”(Ioana Em.Petrescu), Memento mori
devine astfel un proiect programatico-poematic al „timpului cascadă” în care „poezia şi
visul se exersează în a întoarce înapoi , trecând prin
ale fiecărei civilizaţii, spre timpul ei echinoxial, în care şi-a gândit zeii şi şi-a construit
miturile.” (Ioana Em.Petrescu, 2005:113)
Acelaşi mecanism al structurării „în cascadă” este asumat şi de Mandelbrot în
explicarea funcţionalităţii creşterii fractale a formei, care îşi recuperează identitatea
totalizatoare prin coexistenţa regresivă a autosimilarelor sau, altfel spus, prin „punere
implozivă în formă” a omotetiilor interne. Tot în acelaşi fel este construită şi viziunea
onirică din Memento mori asupra temporalităţii istoricizate, cele două categorii temporale
prevalente, „timpul echinoxial” şi „timpul solstiţial” fiind corelativele dominantelor
spaţiale, infinit şi finit, sau, în sens fractalic, ale celor doi topoi – „ieşirea din formă” şi
„punerea în formă.” Apropriindu-şi visul şi moartea ca posibităţi generice de transgresare
spaţială din formă în formă, repetând astfel identicul, dar evidenţiind diferitul, discursul
poetic construieşte viziunea „declinului ciclic al civilizaţiilor” ca morfo-geneză temporală
pe cele două coordonate:
48

„Timpul – şi el rotitor – se reîntoarce ritmic spre momentele sale aurorale,
revitalizându-se într-o perpetuă tinereţe. Aici, la izvoare,
veşnic, străini istoriei (adică eroziunii), ritmând o coregrafie astrală etern identică sieşi.
Este un timp pe care l-am putea numi, metaforic, echinoxial, al cumpenei în etern
echilibru, un timp care nu cunoaşte dramele ruperii, opririi, declinului, un timp sferic,
pe care imaginaţia îl aseamănă calotei sferice a universului platonician, ale cărei
puncte sunt, toate, echidistante faţă de propriu-i centru. Timpul echinoxial este timp
cosmic, cel în care grecii vedeau imaginea mobilă a eternităţii, cel pe care Eminescu îl
vede măsurat, în adâncul codrilor veşnici, de cântul monoton al greierilor, orologii
cosmice ( – Memento mori). Şi, tot
metaforic vorbind, dar utilizând de astă dată o metaforă esenţială a universului poetic
eminescian, timpul îşi pierde caracterul cosmic de imagine mobilă a eternităţii şi
primeşte un caracter istoric (comportând adică eroziunea, ruperea, stagnarea,
degradarea) atunci când iese de sub semnul echinoxului şi intră sub semnul solstiţiului.
Marile crize istorice ale umanităţii (văzute ca tot atâtea amurguri ale zeilor) sunt
înscrise de Eminescu în Memento mori, sub semnul înţeles ca
ruptură tragică în raport cu continuitatea perpetuă a timpului echinoxial: ” (Ioana Em.Petrescu, 2005: 61)
Cele două categorii temporale, în schimb, se desprind de tentaţia antinomiei
romantice realitate – idealitate, nu mai apeleză la o viziune compensatorie, de transformare
utopică a unei lumi reale efemere şi lipsite de autenticitate, ci se înscriu dialectic într-o
poetică fractală a coexistenţei în durată, pentru care somnia thanatică devine o soluţie
asumată de autentificare a complexităţii în mişcare, în care eul îşi resimte integrată condiţia
ontologică. În acest fel, Memento mori, „marele poem al naşterii şi morţii civilizaţiilor”,
recitit prin grila hermenuticii fractale, devine o panoramare mandelbrotiană a formelor
„măririi” şi „căderii” văzute în succesiunea temporalităţii lor, pentru care „lumea cea
aievea” (şi corolarul său – timpul solstiţial) şi „lumea-nchipuirii” (cu corespondentul
temporal al echinoxiului) sunt etapele omotetice ale construcţiei fractale şi nu mai
angajează o dichotomie structurală care ar fracţiona antitetic discursul. Modelul fractal al
coexistenţei „identicilor diferiţi” estompează radicala opoziţie structurală de sorginte
romantică, în virtutea existenţei unui eu care contemplă lumea în diversitatea formelor ei şi
le urmăreşte geneza interioară perpetuă conform desideratului mandelbrotian al
surprinderii diferitului în identic: „Una-i lumea-nchipuirii cu-a ei visuri fericite, / Alta-i
lumea cea aievea, unde cu sudori muncite / Te încerci a stoarce lapte din a stâncei coaste
seci; / Una-i lumea-nchipuirii cu-a ei mândre flori de aur, / Alta unde cerci viaţa s-ontocmeşti
precum un faur / Cearc-a da fierului aspru forma cugetării reci.”
Din alt punct de vedere, reconstruind poetic lumea sau, mai bine spus, regăsind
sensul istoric al formelor mundane prin permisiva dimensiune oniric-contemplativă, eul
liric din Memento mori transcende individualul pentru a recupera pluralul, fiind o
conştiinţă care descifrează limbajul formelor lumii în succesiunea lor implozivă. În acest
fel, incipitul poemului trasează cadrele estetice programatice între care va avea loc morfogeneza
fractală a lumilor, oniricul şi thanaticul constituind cele două nivele fundamentale
în reiterarea omotetiilor interne ale viziunii poetice, de altfel înţelese, în sens
mandelbrotian, ca bază a mecanismului „creşterii” fractale datorită celor două caracteristici
implicite, contemplarea şi eludarea limitelor individualului:
„Turma visurilor mele eu le pasc ca oi de aur, / Când a nopţii întunerec —
înstelatul rege maur — / Lasă norii lui molateci înfoiaţi în pat ceresc, / Iară luna
49

argintie, ca un palid dulce soare, / Vrăji aduce peste lume printr-a stelelor ninsoare, /
Când în straturi luminoase basmele copile cresc. / Mergi, tu, luntre-a vieţii mele, pe-a
visării lucii valuri / Până unde-n ape sfinte se ridică mândre maluri, / Cu dumbrăvi de
laur verde şi cu lunci de chiparos, / Unde-n ramurile negre o cântare-n veci suspină, /
Unde sfinţii se preîmblă în lungi haine de lumină, / Unde-i moartea cu - aripi negre şi cu
chipul ei frumos.”
Acestora li se asociază, inedit, formula unui „patriotism selenar” cu funcţie de
transfigurare a „realului istoric în mitologie personală” (Mihăilescu, 1982:225), punând în
relaţie „lumina esenţializatoare a lunii şi cea fenomenalizantă a soarelui” (Mihăilescu,
1982:227), aşa cum o dovedesc variantele versului „Iară luna argintie, ca un palid dulce
soare”: „Pe când luna de argint aleargă palidul al morţii soare”, „luna de argint a vieţii
somnoroase palid soare”. Cunoaşterea solară, pe de altă parte, marchează o gnoseologie a
afirmării formelor, a surprinderii lor într-o identitate prezentificată, recognoscibilă, este o
modalitate de cunoaştere a „punerii în formă”, perceptibilă categorial, pe când cunoaşterea
selenară indică, dimpotrivă, negarea, căutarea apofatică a formei care-şi eludează propriile
limite individuale pentru a se reflecta infinit în diversitatea lumii. „Investirea lunii cu
atributul solar [...] indică voinţa poetului de a răsturna o lume de valori şi a o repune sub
lumina rece a cunoaşterii, în numele unei căutări neobosite, după primordialitate şi
esenţial”, convertindu-se „în sistemul imaginativ eminescian energia care măsoară,
supraveghează şi în-semnează devenirea.” (Mihăilescu, 1982: 229)
Astfel, Memento mori devine un poem fractalogonic, în care contemplarea
diferitelor etape din istoria umanităţii traduce un etern pelerinaj în căutarea formelor de
civilizaţie şi gândire, ciclic-fragmentare şi autosimilare. Motivul asumat romantic al lui
vanitas vanitatum, cuprins în încărcătura semantică a celor două titluri ale versiunilor
poematice, Panorama deşertăciunilor şi Memeto mori, sau în cele ale subtitlurilor gândite
de Eminescu (Tempora mutantur, Vanitas vanitatum vanitas, Skepsis şi Cugetări)
sugerează pentru hermeneutica fractală tocmai nostalgia mandelbrotiană a surprinderii
diversităţii în complexitatea dinamică a formării / de-formării ei. Istoria ca realitate
primară, ca punct de iniţiere a căutării, şi formele sale fragmentare, actualizate temporal,
îşi dezvoltă un parcurs circumscris programatic între „a istoriei hotară” şi „uriaşa roat-a
vremei”:
„Când posomorâtul basmu — vechia secolilor strajă —/ Îmi deschide cu chei
de-aur şi cu-a vorbelor lui vrajă / Poarta naltă de la templul unde secolii se torc — / Eu
sub arcurile negre, cu stâlpi nalţi suiţi în stele, / Ascultând cu adâncime glasul
gândurilor mele, / Uriaşa roat-a vremei înnapoi eu o întorc / Şi privesc... Codrii de
secoli, oceane de popoare / Se întorc cu repejune ca gândirile ce sboară / Şi icoanele-s
în luptă — eu privesc şi tot privesc / La v-o piatră ce însamnă a istoriei hotară, / Unde
lumea în căi nouă, după nou cântar măsoară —/ Acolo îmi place roata câte-o clipă, s-o
opresc!”
Acest mecanism fractal al devenirii presupune şi ocurenţa anumitor nuclee
repetitive, semantic-autosimilare, regăsibile în fiecare fragment al panoramării
civilizaţiilor, observate şi de către exegeza eminesciană, dar puse sub incidenţa tematică a
paradigmei romantice:
„Însă, mai mult decât o imagine a morţii succesivelor civilizaţii, Memento mori
e o imagine a naşterii şi a morţii miturilor, a credinţelor, adică e o meditaţie asupra
încorporărilor (urmate, fiecare, de o inevitabilă înstrăinare) a spiritului în istorie.
Naşterea şi amurgul zeilor, întruparea şi apusul Ideii, timpul echinoxial (timp istoric
auroral, în care natura şi ideea fuzionează în beatitudinea mitului) şi punctele de
50

solstiţiu ale istoriei – acestea sunt momentele care structurează imaginea fiecărei
civilizaţii panoramate în Memento mori [...] Cu excepţia Daciei mitice [...], toate
celelalte civilizaţii panoramate de Eminescu în Memento mori se desfăşoară conform
evoluţiei identice a raportului între două elemente constitutive (Natură-Spirit), evoluţie
ce cunoaşte trei momente: aspiraţie reciprocă – fuziune în mit – ruptură, care duce la
moartea civilizaţiei respective. Fiecare civilizaţie pare a se naşte dintr-un element
primordial (apa în Grecia şi Egipt, pământul în Babilon şi Egipt, focul în Roma etc.), un
element care îşi visează forma şi şi-o primeşte prin efortul modelator al gândirii; fiecare
civilizaţie conţine un simbol central al gânditorului (rege sau mag); epuizată prin
înstrăinarea gândirii, fiecare civilizaţie se reîntoarce în cele din urmă în elementul din
care s-a născut.” (Ioana Em.Petrescu, 2005:179)
Intervine aici, pe lângă aceste elemente reiterate care consolidează construcţia
fragmentar-plurală a viziunii eminesciene, şi un alt factor de coerenţă, spectralitatea, ca
sursă a iconicităţii lumilor, căci „oglinzile eminesciene par menite nu atât să restituie
imaginea lumii fenomenale, cât să capteze imaginea lumii în Idee” (Ioana Em.Petrescu,
2005:198), încât imaginarul poematic surprinde formarea unui obiect ideal mandelbrotian,
o reflectare fractalică a mecanismului de intrare în fiinţă a lumilor contemplate. Ilustrativă
este imaginea magului egiptean a cărui „oglindă de aur” dezvăluie principiul cosmic de
ordonare autosimilară: „În zidirea cea antică sus în frunte-i turnul maur. / Magul privea pe
gânduri în oglinda lui de aur, / Unde-a cerului mii stele ca-ntr-un centru se adun. / El în
mic priveşte - acolo căile lor tăinuite / Şi c-un ac el zugrăveşte cărăruşile găsite —/ A aflat
sâmburul lumii, tot ce-i drept, frumos şi bun.” Prin medierea „oglinzii de aur”, magul
identifică „sâmburul lumii”, un nucleu fractalic al reiterării omotetice a formelor,
metaforă-analogon al „sâmburelui de ghindă”, cele două imagini sugerând „un nucleu de
imense virtualităţi, rupt din cea mai intimă zonă a individualităţii poetice creatoare”, care
„s-a dezvoltat arborescent, s-a ramificat la nesfârşit în variate forme.” (Zamfir, 1971:227)
În această ordine de idei, toposul oglinzii de aur poate fi redefinit, în contextul unei
organizări fractale a discursului, drept metaforă centrală revelatorie, cu extensiuni de
semnificaţie în tot imaginarul poematic, sugerând un locus al contemplării vizionarfractale,
manipulat de „conştiinţa spaţio-temporală subiectivă” eminesciană. Este o
reflectare, la nivelul discursului, a „unei forţe integratoare, capabilă să unifice dimensiunile
spaţială şi temporală într-o experienţă de întrepătrundere omogenă a duratei, a continuităţii
şi a spaţialităţii [...]. În momente privilegiate, conştiinţa subiectivă poate stopa curgerea
timpului, oferind experienţa eternităţii temporale, în care viaţa este percepută în totalitatea
ei [...]. Şi, în cadrul unor experienţe cu adevărat vizionare, mintea poate chiar percepe
eternitatea per se.” (Ghiţă, 2005: 111) Privită în dimensiunea sa de cronotop central,
oglinda de aur, pe lângă funcţia de concentrare a spaţialităţii într-un adevărat Aleph
borgesian, implică şi mecanismul fractal al coexistenţei spaţiale, al „creşterii în şi prin
spaţii”, căci „un anumit punct în spaţiu este relaţionat mental cu totalitatea spaţială care, în
mod similar, integrează pluralitatea de spaţii într-un singur întreg atotcuprinzător. În
momentele vizionare, infinitul multidimensional poate substitui finitul tridimensional.”
(Ghiţă, 2005: 104) Privirea în şi prin oglinda de aur dă astfel un sens formator construcţiei
vizionare eminesciene şi mai ales procedeului contemplativ fractal al descoperirii pivotalrelaţionare
a spaţiilor civilizaţiilor coexistente în aceeaşi totalitate integratoare. I se
asociază toate figurile spectrale ale imaginarului poematic, ele însele oglinzi reflectoare ale
textului, de la oglinda acvatică sau cosmică la privire, având „valoarea de oglinzi magice în
care este revelată nu aparenţa, ci natura ultimă, esenţa încifrată în formele accesibile
privirii.” (Ioana Em.Petrescu, 2005:198) Avem în vedere funcţia eminesciană a simulării
spectrale care complică, diversifică „identitatea repetitivă”, transformând-o într-o
mandelbrotiană iluzie veridică.
51

Oglindirea fractală a auto-similarelor devine, în aceste condiţii, nu simplă
reprezentare mimetică, ci act de generare simulată a complexităţilor Istoriei, „acel
comportament repetitiv al cărui produs (fie el un obiect, fie un eveniment sau un şir de
evenimente) se raportează la o existenţă primă, proclamată drept model, în asemenea
manieră încât, din structura sa complexă, care conţine atât elemente de identitate, cât şi
elemente de diferenţă, un să valorizeze cea dintâi categorie, deci
similitudinea.” (Gorcea, 2001:278)
REFERINŢE
Chioaru, D. (2000), Poetica temporalităţii. Eseu asupra poeziei româneşti, Cluj-Napoca: Ed.Dacia,
Ghiţă, C., (2005), Lumile lui Argus, Piteşti: Ed.Paralela 45
Gorcea, P. M., (2001), Eminescu, vol.I, Piteşti: Ed.Paralela 45
Melian, A., (1987), Eminescu – univers deschis, Bucureşti: Ed.Minerva
Mihăilescu, D. C., (1982), Perspective eminesciene, Bucureşti: Ed.Cartea Românească
Patapievici, H.-R., (2005), Cerul văzut prin lentilă, Iaşi: Ed.Polirom
Petrescu, A., (1985), Eminescu. Metamorfozele creaţiei, Bucureşti: Ed.Albatros Petrescu, I. Em. (2005),
Eminescu. Modele cosmologice şi viziune poetică, Piteşti: Ed.Paralela 45
Zamfir, M., (1971), Proză poetică românească în sec. XIX, Bucureşti: Ed. Minerva
Abstract:
The fractal model identified by Mandelbrot’s branching process becomes relevant for Eminescu’s
Memento mori by means of which the poetic form gains inner dynamism. Its final artistic effect
lies in defining poetry as an infinitely mobile summum of formal windows which renders the same
meaning reflected indefinetly within the poetic structure. Therefore, the global poetic meaning is
inserted at different textual levels through a fractal development technique.
Résumé
Le modèle fractal, identifié par le processus de ramification proposé par Mandelbrot, devient
relevant pour le poème Memento mori d’Eminescu, où la forme poétique étale un certain
dynamisme intérieur. Son effet artistique final demeure dans la définition de la poésie, celle d’un
summum mobile indéfini d’ouvertures formelles, reproduisant le même sens reflété dans la
structure poétique. Par conséquent, le sens poétique global s’insère à de différents niveaux
textuels par l’intermédiaire de la technique de développement fractal.
Rezumat
Modelul fractal identificat de procesul de ramificare propus de Mandelbrot devine relevant
pentru poemul Memento mori al lui Eminescu, unde forma poetică expune un anume dinamism
interior. Efectul său artistic final rezidă în definirea poeziei drept un summum mobil nedefinit de
deschideri formale redând acelaşi sens reflectat în structura poetică. Aşadar, sensul poetic global
este inserat la diferite niveluri textuale prin intermdeiul tehnicii de dezvoltare fractală.
52

Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of GALAŢI
Fascicle XIII. New Series.
Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006
pp. 53 - 65
56
Language
and
Literature
METAPHORICAL READINGS IN THE MULTAL PARTITIVE PARADIGM
Silvia Manoliu
To express non-numerical imprecision, speakers of English can rely on a diverse set of
vaguely quantifying items and phrases [1]. With a distribution similar to numbers, some of
them are closed-class items that fit in the vague quantifier + (non)countable noun pattern
and fill in the determiner slot in a noun phrase structure, eg: little / much money, many /
several reasons, umpteen jobs, etc. Others, known as quantifying nouns (Biber et al, 1999:
252), partitive nouns or partitives (Quirk et al, 1985: 249; Channell, 1994: 99; Collins
Cobuild, 1996: 110-113), are open-class quantifiers that enter partitive constructions /
structures (Quirk et al, 1985: 249; Channell, 1994: 99; Collins Cobuild, 1996: 110). They
are used to refer to a limited or to a large indefinite quantity of both “masses and entities,”
which are “specified in a following of-phrase” by uncountable mass nouns and plural
countables (Biber et al, 1999: 252) that refer to a single item, part of a whole, a collection
of items or a group/groups of people. The division of quantifiers into non-phrasal and
phrasal partitives is not so strict inasmuch as, except umpteen, all the members in the
former set, can, for emphatic reasons, be optionally postmodified by a prepositional ofphrase
in their pronominal function, eg: many (of the) [books], much (of the) [time], etc.
Conceptually, partition can be expressed both in respect of quality (eg: a kind of
[artist/weapon]; a sort of [animal/chocolate/crime/iron]) and in respect of quantity (eg: a
bit of [fun] > lot of [fun]). (Quirk et al, 1985: 249) In English, the expression of quantity
and of countability, implicitly, is achieved by means of general partitive nouns, eg: piece,
bit, item, which are used with a large number of concrete and abstract noncount nouns, of
typical or specific partitives, which are “more restricted and descriptive” and collocate
with “specific concrete noncount nouns” (idem: 250), eg: a grain of [corn/logic/rice/sand/
salt/truth]; a speck of [dirt/dust/information/truth]), and of measure partitive nouns (idem:
251)/standardized measure terms (Biber et al, 1999: 253), which denote exact
measurement, eg: inch, gram(me), hundred, metre, mile, million, ounce, score, yard,
pound, etc.[2]
Since some of them refer to ‘a (very) small amount or number of’, some to ‘a (very) large
amount or number of’, and others are neutral with respect to quantity, non-numerical
quantifiers have broadly been categorized as meaning:
(a) ‘+ for quantity’, meaning ‘much or many’, which are used in the plural
partitive pattern ‘plural quantifier + of + (non)count noun’, eg: bags of, loads
of, lots of, masses of, oodles of; a great/good/vast deal of; umpteen;
(b) ‘- for quantity’, meaning ‘few or little’, which fit in the singular partitive
pattern ‘a + singular quantifier (+ of + noncount noun)’, eg: a bit of, a scrap of;
a touch of;
(c) ‘neutral for quantity’, eg: some, several. (Cf Channell, 1994: 96)

In Biber et al (1999: 248-252), partitives are subclassified into quantifying
collectives/quantifying collective nouns and unit nouns, which “provide alternative ways
of viewing and referring” with respect to countables and uncountables, respectively,
tending “to have marked collocational patterns.” (idem: 250) Angela Downing and Philip
Locke (1992: 443) distinguish between expressions of measurement (eg: four metres of
cloth), certain singular and plural collective nouns (meaning ‘many’), eg: a pack of [lies],
a gang of [thieves], a swarm of [photographers], herds of [tourists], loads of [ideas], and
small quantities of mass entities (meaning ‘a little’), eg: a bit of [cheese/luck], an item of
[news], a grain/kernel of [truth], etc.[3]
Drawing on Quirk et al’s classification of quantifiers in terms of antonymy
relations[4] and on Biber et al’s framework, phrasal partitives are here approached in terms
of two notional paradigms: the multal partitive paradigm, which is made up of
quantifying collectives/quantifying collective nouns that refer to “groups of single
entities,” expressing a (very) large amount or large amounts of something in both their
singular and plural forms, eg: heap(s) of [books/money/snow], flock(s) of [birds/sheep/
tourists], load(s) of, lot(s) of, masse(s) of, oodles (of), etc;[5] and the paucal partitive
paradigm, which includes quantifying units [6]/quantifying unit nouns, that is, count
nouns denoting a (very) small quantity/amount or (very) small quantities/amounts of
something (eg: bit(s) of, scrap(s) of, etc). The members of the multal paradigm provide
collective, neutral reference for separate entities, collocating with nouns that refer to “a
particular type of entity: people (e.g. crowd and gang), animals (e.g. flock, herd, shoal and
swarm), plants (e.g. bouquet and clump), or inanimate objects or entities (e.g. batch and
set).” (idem: 249) Some of them are often used disphorically, eg: bunch, gang and pack.
Among the most productive and “flexible with respect to the type of entity they refer to”
are bunch, group and set, each of them combining “with over 100 different collocates.”
(idem: 248). Characteristically “general in meaning,” and collocating with nouns that
specify a type of matter or phenomenon, the paucal partitives “make it possible to split up
an undifferentiated mass and refer to separate instances of a phenomenon.” (idem: 250)
Traditionally, the semantics of most of these nominals have been handled in terms
of the standard approach to non-numerical quantifiers, which shows that numerical and
non-numerical quantifiers alike enter into scalar relationships and create scalar
implicatures, the choice of any of them implicating “meanings relevant to the others.”
(Channell 1994: 96-7) There is in this respect a striking similarity in behaviour between
these sets and the adjective, the adverb, the verb and the noun, eg: ... ... ...
... (Cf idem: 97, 116) [7] The scalar semantic relations that hold
between non-numerical quantifying words and phrases account for the status of degree
words, which makes it possible to place them on a scale in relation to each other. Channell
holds that, with the exception of oodles (eg: oodles (and oodles) of [butter / cream /
presents]), plural non-numerical vague quantifiers and their iterative patterns, eg: flocks
and flocks of sheep, masses and masses (of) data, pints and pints of milk, etc, “fall neatly
into an analysis as metaphorical extensions from original literal meanings of each word.”
While the literal use is “a true measure or partitive, as in a load of [hay], a bag of [sand], a
lot of [goods],” the extended, metaphorical uses “maintain the sense of quantifying, but
lose the specific physical characteristics – no actual loads or bags are involved in the
vague uses.” (idem: 104)
According to Patrick Hanks, the metaphorical uses of partitives are among the
“prototypical syntagmatic patterns” that each word is associated with in our mind.” What
contributes “to the meaningfulness of an actual utterance” in a given context is the
57

association of each pattern with “a ‘meaning potential’ of a word or a phrase.”
(http://www.dcs.shef.ac.uk/research/ilash/Seminars/Hanks.doc.:1) The corpus-basedanalysis
of the idiomatic and metaphorical uses of the noun storm [8] has identified the set
of criteria that distinguish the syntagmatic contexts which “normally indicate that storm
has a metaphorical meaning.” Mainly drawing on Pustejovsky’s Generative Lexicon
theory, which holds that “[F]or a word to be used metaphorically, at least one of its
semantic values is set aside, while some other semantic feature is emphasized,” Hanks
concludes that the qualia structure of the “most literal sense” of storm and that of the
metaphorical expression a political storm, made up of a classifying adjective + storm,
differ in that the latter “emphasizes the telic and overrides the semantic values of the other
qualia” (idem: 7), as shown in the adapted qualia structure below: [9]
LITERAL storm METAPHORICAL storm
CONSTITUTIVE=high winds, precipitation, thunder,etc. political interaction
FORMAL=atmospheric phenomenon, violent quarrelling
TELIC=disturbing effect >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
AGENTIVE=atmospheric conditions disagreement
Hanks has identified the following other storm patterns which are often given metaphorical
readings: causative verb (eg: arise, cause, create, provoke, raise, spark, unleash; stir up,
whip up) + storm, noun modifier + storm (eg: a royal storm) and the partitive phrase ‘a
storm of something’ / storm + partitive ‘of’ (eg: a storm of protest), which almost always
involves a metaphorical “violent disturbance in the social sense.” The findings show that
the noun protest is “a statistically significant collocate ... in a standard syntactic relation
with the target word,” storm, “usually (but not always)” occurring in the phrase storm of
protest. Hanks’ corpus illustrates “four prototypical classes of storm as a partitive noun,”
i.e. “storms of negative reactions,” such as a storm of anger / controversy / criticism /
discontent / objections / protest / strikes / unrest, etc, which outnumber “storms of
positive reactions,” such as a storm of applause / cheers addressed to a successful
performance, “storms of emotion,” as expressed by someone’s bursting into a storm of
weeping or a storm of tears, etc, [10] and “storms of other things,” ... “of a miscellaneous
ragbag of things, both entities—locusts, feathers, stones, etc.—and events—movement,
noise, sexual behaviour, etc. —in all of which the storm is metaphorical.” (idem: 11)
The semantic relation between the two nouns in a Det + N1 + of + N2 partitive
phrase has in the present paper been reconsidered in terms of semantic marking and the
category of intensification. Literal partitive paradigms have generated paradigms of
contextual, “affective” partitive structures (Ullmann 1967: 148) with various degrees of
metaphoricity, and therefore intensifying force.[11] Organized by the ‘connoteme‘ or along
the dimension euphoric/disphoric, the partitive paradigms confirm that expressiveness is
the result of changing the traditional usage of a lexical item, of violating selection
restriction rules or of semantic incompatibility. Based on the opposition between the the
Source term and the Target term that has been mapped onto it, partitives evoke a certain
source domain which differentiates them. It is especially the “distance” between the two
terms, the nature of their basis of comparison, evaluated in terms of value scaling from
neuter to favourable / unfavourable, as well as the size of the Source domain that matters.
The more restricted the domain is, the more expressive the metaphor will be.
I assume that the members of the two paradigms denote intensification values
within a range of ‘less than enough’ and of ‘(much) more than enough’, respectively, on a
bidirectional intensification scale. Enough stands for the vague node where the multal and
58

the paucal intervals overlap and from where they extend both ways. While the members of
the paucal paradigm denote (very) low / little, and sometimes infinitesimal values of the
collocate (eg: a fleck / speck of [dust]), the members of the multal paradigm denote values
within a range from high to the highest of their collocate on the intensification cline. In
accordance with my framework for the category of intensification (Manoliu 2007), the
literal / neutral, unmarked for intensification meaning of a partitive, in both its singular and
plural forms, will be [-I] marked for intensification, by contrast with the metaphorically
[+I] marked for intensification singular and plural forms. Compare bursts/volleys/ a burst /
volley of [automatic rifle fire/water] and bursts/roars/ a burst roar of [laughter], loads / a
load of [wood] and loads of [charm/fun/ideas/money/time/work], bags/a bag of [cherries]
and bags of [language/people/time], tons/a ton of [fish] and tons of [letters].
Specific multal partitives combine with entities or individuals from a diversity of
domains, many of which pertain to senses (sight and hearing). Mainly inspired by Biber et
al’s “collocation types” (1999: 252 - 254), I have grouped quantifying nouns into several
classes. Nouns denoting a multitude, or collective partitive nouns, which make the bulk of
this paradigm, may refer to a large amount or amounts of things, or to a large number of
things or participants, a group or groups, eg: army, band, batch, bevy, board, brood, bulk,
bunch, bundle, cluster, collection, colony, constellation, convoy, covey, crowd, crew,
drove, fleet, flock, gaggle, gang, heap, herd, hive, hoard, horde, host, litter, load, mass,
nest, pack, pad, pile, pride, rout, school, shoal, skein, stack, stock, string, stud, swarm,
troop, troupe. There are also nouns that refer to elements of nature and to geographical
features, which often connote the idea of ‘remarkably or supernaturally large’, eg: cloud,
mountain, ocean, sea, or to natural phenomena, often characterized by force and by ‘a
sudden and violent release of energy’, eg: burst, explosion, fit, invasion, plague;
avalanche, cloud, deluge, flood, rain, shower, storm, stream, surge, torrent, etc. Others
denote containers and shape, eg: bag, barrel, crate, keg, pack, packet, pad, sack; cupful,
handful, hatful; column, curtain, jet, stick, wad, wall, wedge, etc, [12] or standardized
measures, eg: inch, ounce, pint, ton, yard. Expressing approximate numbers, such as
dozens, scores, tens, hundreds, thousands, a thousand and one, etc, plural numerals are
used in partitive “vague expressions for large numbers” (idem: 253), eg: hundreds /
thousands of [times]; We’ve bought tons of [beer] for the party tonight (CCD).
By lexicalizing intensification to a high, or to the highest degree, the members of
the multal paradigm basically mean the same, i.e. ‘a lot of, plenty (of)’, ‘a large quantity
of’, ‘a great deal of’, ‘a mass of’ something. The sense relation of synonymy that obtains
between non-numerical quantifiers accounts, for instance, for a great amount of money
being referred to as a lot/bag/bulk/heap/pot of [money], or as lot/bags/bulks/heaps/pots of
[money].
The propensity for metaphorization in the multal partitive paradigm in English and
Romanian is illustrated in this paper by the class of nouns of multitude that express ‘a
sudden release of energy’.[13] Conceptually, they may be associated with the MORE IS
UP orientational metaphor, in the sense that whatever exceeds the standard limits can
either excel at or fail in attaining one’s goal. Axiologically, the semantic content of these
metaphors implies a favourable or unfavourable evaluation of quantity. While a small
quantity usually elicits a favourable appraisal, unless the quantity is felt as insufficient and
may generate a devaluating judgment, a large quantity in terms of number, intensity, size,
etc, usually elicits devaluating judgments that connote lack of quality.
The transfer of meaning between concrete, physical entities includes mergers of
different values. Besides the seme [+QUANTITY], these partitive structures contain
variables such as [+/-ANIMATE], [+/-HUMAN], [+/-MOVEMENT], [+SPEED],
[+SOUND], [+SHAPE], [+ITERATIVE], etc. The emotive effect of these elements is due
59

to their evoking the environment or level of style in which they naturally belong. Literally
referring to “bodies of water” (Hanks: 18), of snow, of lava, etc, and metaphorically, by
degrees, to ‘a very large amount of or a large number of things or of people that occur or
arrive at the same time’, the partitives avalache, deluge, flood, stream and torrent share in
their metaphorical uses semes like [+MOVEMENT], [+SPEED], [FORCE], [+SUDDEN
RELEASE], [+/-SOUND]. For example, the idea of [+MOVEMENT] contained in a
stream of, i.e. ‘a long or continuous line of people, animals, vehicles, etc, travelling in the
same direction; a long, continuous series of things; flood’, is further amplified in the
meaning of a torrent of, which additionally suggests [+SPEED] and [FORCE], i.e. ‘a
rushing, violent, or abundant and unceasing stream of anything; a violent, tumultuous, or
overwhelming flow’. Compare: a stream of [abuse/insults/lies/losses/memories/people/
questions/visitors/traffic] and a torrent of [abuse/criticism/hair].
An outburst of something, which is either ‘a sudden period of violent activity’ or ‘a
sudden and strong expression of emotion, especially anger’, and which contains the semes
[+/-SOUND], [SPEED] and [+/-VIOLENCE], has been conceptualized as: a burst of (‘a
short or sudden period of something’); an explosion of (‘a sudden and violent expression of
someone’s feelings, especially anger’, ‘a sudden and serious outbreak of political protest
and violence’); a gush of (‘a sudden plentiful outburst’); a roar of (‘a very loud noise’ or ‘a
very noisy way of applausing or laughing’); a storm of (‘a large amount of comment and
criticism made by people who are very angry, indignant, or excited about a particular
subject’; ‘a sudden loud expression of people’s feelings, which they show by clapping,
laughing, shouting, etc’); a surge of (‘a sudden and powerful increase in an emotion or
feeling’), a wave of (‘a steady increase in a certain feeling, eg: alarm, panic, sympathy, etc,
which overwhelms a person, or which spreads through a place or group of people; surge,
tide; a sudden increase in a particular activity or type of behaviour, boom, spate’), a
whirlwind of (‘a situation in which you experience a lot of different activities or emotions
one after another’), etc.
The partitives cascade, cloud, rain and shower involve different types of
[+MOVEMENT], i.e. ‘a floating, flowing, or a falling mass of something’: a cascade of is
‘an amount of something that falls or hangs down in large quantities’. Compare: Her hair
fell over her shoulders in a cascade of [curls] ... her golden torrent of [hair] (LDCE); ‘a
mass of dust, smoke, gas, etc, moving or floating in the air, or ‘a very large number of
birds or insects flying through the air together’ make a cloud, eg: Way off in the distance
she sees a cloud of [smoke]. (CCD) ... Clouds of [birds] rose from the tree-tops. A large
number of things may ‘fall from above at the same time and with great force’ in a rain, eg:
Like a rain of [bullets], blobs of sulphur would pour down on us. (CCD) ‘A falling
movement of lots of light things’, on the other hand, makes a shower, eg: a shower of
[abuse/(falling) leaves/sparks].[14]
The partitives in this class share a whole range of positively, negatively or neutrally
loaded [+/-ANIMATE] and [+/-HUMAN] collocates, eg: avalache/deluge of [politicians/
tourists/volunteers; applications/data/(mis)information/opportunity], flood/floods of
[people/refugees], avalache/torrents of [debris/trash]. Complaints/letters/petitions come in
a deluge or in floods, attacks and drugs in an avalache or in waves, electrons in an
avalanche, stream or torrent, errors in a burst or an avalanche, (un)truths in an avalanche,
burst, or stream. While the force of applauses is lexicalized in partitive phrases such as
roars/rounds/storms/whirlwinds of [applause], strong protest is expressed in an avalache,
cascade, storm, torrent or wave. One may experience a deluge or droves of [trouble], a
burst, gush or whirlwind of [activity].
Further contextual intensification is provided by the modification of partitive
phrases or, less common, of the collocate only, by descriptive adjectives, which contain the
60

semes [+QUANTITY], [+DURATION] and [+SOUND]. To illustrate this I have selected
the partitives within the range of applause, eg: (huge/massive/total/tremenduous/endless/
deafening/loud/thunderous) roar of [applause], (big/great/huge/polite/respectful/wild)
round of [applause], (ceaseless/long/never-ending/thunderous/wild) storm of [applause];
Another (wild) round of [applause] rose... A storm of (wild) [applause] followed. In
informal use, it is not uncommon for partitives to be also premodified by intensifiers such
as whole, eg: ... a (whole) (new) way of [life]...This turn of events opened a (whole) (new)
vista of [troubles] for me. (CCD).
In Romanian also, the collocational ranges of this class of specific partitives often
overlap, eg: cascadă / explozie de [ciocolată]; avalaşă/explozie de [canale TV/cancere/
case/prospeţime]; explozie/torent de [informaţii/bucurie/lumină]; potop/puhoi/groază/
puzderie/val de [bani/lume/oameni]; potop de [ameninţări/critici/invective/înjurături/
reproşuri]; puhoi/groază/puzderie/sumedenie de [contestaţii/credincioşi/duşmani/filme/
inamici/informaţii/microbişti/nenorociri/nereguli], etc. [15] Crosslinguistically, a shared
conceptual space will enable comparisons, equivalence in form and/or content being a
matter of degree rather than of meaning. The partitive class under examination reveals
much overlapping both in form and collocational ranges between English and Romanian.
The English specific partitives avalache, flood, deluge, wave, stream and torrent of, and
their general partitive equivalents a lot of, lots of, masses of, oodles of and tons of, have as
Romanian counterparts the partitives avalanşă, şuvoi, torent, val de and the rather archaic
nouns potop, puhoi, puzderie, groază de, eg: avalache/deluge of [applications/notifications
/jobs]–ro. avalanşă/puhoi/torent/val de [cereri/contestaţii]; avalache of [costs/events/sales]
– ro. avalanşă de [costuri/cumpărături/evenimente/scumpiri/vânzări]; avalache/ wave of
[accidents/suicide/tourists]–ro. avalanşă/val de [accidente/evenimente rutiere/cumpărături /
scumpiri/vânzări/sinucideri/candidaţi/turişti]; explosion of [colour/rage]–ro. explozie de
[sunet, lumină şi culoare/talent şi culoare/mânie/preţuri]; flood/torrents/volley of [words/
oaths] [16] -ro. cascadă/potop/şuvoi/torent de [cuvinte/înjurături/vorbe]; flood/gush of
[tears] –ro. puhoi / şuvoi de [lacrimi]; flood of [news] vs. potop de [ştiri]; wave of
[love/violence] - ro. val de [afecţiune/dragoste/(acte de) violenţă];
avalache/stream/torrent/wave of [protest] -ro. avalanşă/val de [proteste]; a stream of
[cars/people] - ro. puhoi/şuvoi de [maşini/oameni]; rain of [bullets] - ro. ploaie de
[gloanţe], etc. In both speech and writing, the Romanian counterparts of these partitives
vary between use and abuse. A burst/peal/ roar/round/storm/thunder/volley/wave of
[applause], (out)burst/peal/roar/storm of [laughter], flood/whirlwind of [emotions], etc, are
lexicalized in Romanian as furtună / ropot de [aplauze], hohot de [râs] and val de
[compasiune], but also improperly rendered as ?rafală de [aplauze], ?ropot de [fluierături /
râs]. [17]
The following selection from our corpus illustrates the metaphorical uses of some
English and Romanian partitives in this class:
Ski venders give advertizers an avalanche of [opportunity].
(www.usatoday.com/money/advertising/adtrack) ... Thanks to an avalanche of [email] I’ve
added a bunch of new items to ... He had set off a (terrible) avalache of [(world) events].
(CCD)... an avalanche of [misoginy] directed at Hillary Clinton
(http://atypicaljoe.com/index.php/site/comments/an_avalanche_of_misogyny_directed_at_
hillary_clinton/)... Flames of [suspicion] leapt up in the breast of each man. (F / PI: 117);
A TV show ... was halted after a flood of [complaints] ... a (raging) flood of
[doubts]... There followed a (great) flood of [indignation] in the newspapers (CCD) ... She
received a flood of (grateful) [telegrams and letters] (CCD) ... She shed floods of [tears] ...
A storm of [laughter] arose... the storm of [applause] that greeted the actors ... The decision
61

provoked a storm of [criticism] from Conservative MPs. (CCD) ... They uttered a stream of
(nasty) [curses] ... He sat dumb for several minutes while the stream of [insults] continued
... “The Media Repeats Streams of [Lies] about Obama.”... These ideas have been
hammered into their heads by a stream of [movies, plays and books] ... Stream of
[nonsenseness] by Adrian Jimenezb... a (steady) stream of [contributions] on a weekly
basis ... a (steady) stream of [questions] ... There was a (constant) stream of [people] going
both ways ... The research adds weight to a stream of [studies] that have found obesity and
other health problems ... (MIKE STOBBE, AP Medical Writer Wed May 7, 11:06 AM )
(Relentless) stream of [untruths] ... A (mounting) wave of [dislike and anger] rose within
me... waves of [fun] (C22: 153)... In the (general) wave of [panic], nobody thought of
phoning for an ambulance.(CCD)... In Paris in May 1968 there was a (massive) wave of
(student) [riots]... the recent wave of [bombings] (CCD)... There was a (strong) wave of
[applause] punctuated with cheers... Waves of [applause] like ripples from a slow-grinding
fracture.. permeated the subterranean gloom... (http://www.qbsaul.demon.co.uk)... Waves
of [applause] washed over Nicola, swelling her with pride.
(www.asstr.org/~knickers/haremd2html)... a (new) wave of [innovation] for teaching and
learning... a (fresh) wave of [measles] ... Waves of (saphire)[mist] spread from it in the
dusty fog... He has been trading a (new) wave of [sanctions];
In the 1920s, a Burst of American [Art and Expression] Takes Form.
(http://www.voanews.com/specialenglish/2006-06-14-voa4.cfm)... After a burst of
[(initial) publicity], all seems to have quietened down on this front (The Financial Express,
Friday, April 04, 2008)... The ingredients in this shot lead to a burst of [flavor] you
wouldn’t expect... Jack Kerouac, fuelled by inspiration, coffee and Benzedrine, set down at
his typewriter and in one burst of [creative energy] wrote the novel that would make him
the voice of his generation. (Kerouac’s On the Road)
(http://www.npr.org/programs/morning/features/patc/ontheroad) (5April 2008)...
Verheugen’s visit triggers a burst of [commentaries] ... She felt a surge of [affection] for
him... There has been a a surge of [people];
Deluge of (Digitally Distributed) Drama ... a deluge of [firms] in Dubai ... a deluge
of [ petitions] to the vice-chancellor ... World faces deluge of (human) [trafficking] ...
Rising Miss. River tricky for deluge of [barges] headed downstream ... A deluge of (new)
[trouble]... he has released tons of [songs] for the consumption of the masses. (Biber et al
1999: 253);
Istoria ne-a rezervat o cascadă de [cacealmale]. (Jurnalul Naţional-online,
15.06.2006)... o explozie de [populism şi de necunoaştere] ... Explozie de [copii] în lumea
artistică / la Hollywood în 2007... explozie de [bebeluşi] în România ... explozie de
[sinucideri] care sperie medicii (Ziarul de Iaşi)... explozie de [bere] în centrul Sucevei
(Crai Nou);
Soprana Mariana Nicolesco, care a declanşat furtuni de [aplauze] cu liedurile
enesciene ... stârnind o furtună de [aplauze] în rândurile celor 3.000 de spectatori
(www.onlinegallery.ro/raducanu_tavitian.html) ... fiecare apariţie a sa stârneşte un freamăt
care anunţă furtuna de [aplauze] din final;
?Rafale de [aplauze] la “Chicago” (Cotidianul) ... au urmat câteva aplauze discrete,
anemice şi neconvingătoare. După dans însă, au izbucnit ?rafale de [aplauze]... Din ziua
aia salatele fură înecate în ?potop de [oţet] acru de mere.
Well aware of the fact that approaching metaphoricity in the partitive paradigms involves
dealing with extensive corpora,[18] I have discussed the multal metaphorical partitive
structures in terms of general and specific semes, which turn them into expressive markers
62

of intensification, focusing on collocational ranges and regularities of partitives, as well as
on abuse in the use of some Romanian multal partitive nouns.
The study has revealed some basic issues concerning the semantics and the
metaphorical uses of multal partitives:
- The meaning of the multal metaphorical partitives is a combination of the common semes
[+PLURAL] / [+QUANTITY] which are “intrinsic to the semantic matrix of collective
nouns” (Cf. GA. I: 109) and of specific semes like [+/-MOVEMENT], [+SPEED],
[+SOUND], etc, which convey the idea of exaggeration or of excess.
- Since the semantics of partitives is a function of contiguity, varying with the semantic
load of the collocate, the paradigm members cannot simply be divided into neutral,
positively loaded and negatively loaded items. They have a very wide distribution,
combining with nouns containing the semes [+/-HUMAN] and [+/-ANIMATE], with
neutral, epiphoric and disphoric connotations;
- It is more difficult to establish differences in meaning between individidual partitives
than between cognitive paradigms; they can more profitably be grouped into semantic
classes and subclasses in accordance with the semantic domain they belong to;
- Even though English and Romanian may not have perfectly matching lexicalized
counterparts, their shared conceptual space makes possible crosslinguistic comparisons,
which show that equivalence in form and / or content is a matter of degree rather than of
meaning.
It may be held that metaphorical partitives are cases where “... that inner core of
signification which the word calls up even in isolation includes affective factors,” their real
significance being “as much emotional as it is conceptual.” (Stephen Ullmann, 1967: 99) It
is by evoking the environment or level of style to which they naturally belong that conveys
the emotive effect. The speaker’s / writer’s choice in achieving a stylistic effect (i.e.
familiar, pejorative, jocular, slangy or archaic) is, however, the keynote of any
metaphorical or emotional reading.
Notes
[1] Speaking about “the inherent vagueness in non-numerical quantifiers,” Joanna Channell (1994: 99) has
pointed out that they are vague in the sense that they are “in some ways rather weak as quantifiers,” saying
“nothing absolute about the quantities involved.”
[2] The general partitives bit of, item of and piece of are invariably rendered in Romanian by the general
partitive bucată de, in collocation with concrete nouns, eg: bucată de (cărbune / cretă / hârtie / metal /
pământ), and specific partitives such as felie de [prăjitură / tort], articol de [îmbrăcăminte]. Note the
countability of the Romanian abstract nouns informaţie, ştire, sfat, cercetare, etc, which do not need
reclassification by partition.
[3] Noun collocates are typed between square brackets, whereas modifiers are placed between round
brackets.
[4] They classify much, many, several and a lot as multal quantifiers and a little, a few, respectively, as
paucal quantifiers with a universal or a partitive meaning (1985: 384-6).
[5] Each combining with “well over 100 different collocates,” unit nouns (eg: bit of and piece of) are
“characteristically general in meaning” and, in a way, “the opposite of collective nouns: rather than providing
a collective reference for separate entities, they split up an undifferentiated mass and refer to separate
instances of a phenomenon. Both types of noun provide alternative ways of viewing and referring, collective
nouns with respect to countables and unit nouns with respect to uncountables.” (Biber et al 1999: 250; Cf
also Quirk et al 1985: 249) Moreover, as context-sensitive items, partitives, like intensifiers, can connote
divergent values of their collocates. When used to mean the opposite of what it says, an expression of
quantity indicates a violation of Grice’s maxim of Quality. Just as the diminisher a bit of appears to indicate a
large quantity, loads of, i.e. ‘a lot of something’, may mean ‘a (very) small amount of something’. Compare:
She’s done (a few) bits of [shopping] (‘a small amount of shopping’ vs. ‘quite a lot of shopping’) ... He’s
done loads of [work] (‘has done a lot of work’ vs. ‘has hardly done anything’.
[6] The classifying tag “quantifying units” has been coined on analogy to Biber et al’s “quantifying
collectives.”
63

[7] The bidirectional ordering of gradable items in our intensification framework is the reverse of Channell’s
scaling, where the highest in degree values are marked counterclockwise, i.e. leftwards, eg: , , etc (See Manoliu 2007: 26)
[8] We have preserved the boldface in Hank’s examples.
[9] According to Pustejovsky, there are “four essential aspects of a word’s meaning” that define the qualia
structure: CONSTITUTIVE (i.e. the relation between an object and its constituent parts), FORMAL (i.e.
which distinguishes an object within a larger domain), TELIC (i.e. the purpose and function of the object)
and AGENTIVE (i.e. factors involved in the origin or “bringing about” of something) (idem:7)
[10] Since, in terms of the category of intensification and its markers, they all pertain to feelings, these
metaphorical classes may, however, be approached as “storms of emotion” which denote diferent intensity
values along a bidirectional intensification scale.
[11] Iorgu Iordan (1975: 333) calls this process „semantic derivation.”
[12] To form a quantifying noun, the suffix –ful can be added to nouns denoting different types of container
...” (idem: 254)
[13] Our corpus has been culled from fiction and media, mainly from http://www.google.ro
[14] Note also the intensifying eliptical prepositional phrases in clouds, in droves, in spate, in waves, etc, eg:
The mosquitoes were coming up in clouds... They would come in droves to see Australia’s natural wonder.
(CCD)
[15] Note that of is almost invariably rendered into Romanian by the preposition de.
[16] A volley of [words / questions / figures] is ‘a lot of words, questions, etc, which someone says very
quickly and in an agressive way, without giving anyone else a chance to reply’. Remember also a sea of
[words]. (Pârlog 1995: 115)
[17] Such collocations abound in the media, eg: ?rafală de [cuvinte / moţiuni / oferte / ritmuri / sentimente],
?şuvoi de [compasiune / dubii / picături / victime], ?cascadă de [apartamente], etc.
[18] A great amount of computed data from many spoken and written sources compensate for the scant
attention that partitives receive in lexicographic studies. It is beyond the scope of this paper to determine the
grammatical role of the partitive / quantifier and of its collocate or to give a full-scale record of the
collocational ranges of these partitives. We cannot but agree in this respect with Hanks, who holds that “[I]t
would take a full-scale lexicographical study ... to determine exactly how many words are used as
metaphorical partitives and what semantic features they share.”
REFERENCES
Academia Română, Institutul de Lingvistică “Iorgu Iordan – Al. Rosetti” (2005). Gramatica limbii române. I
Cuvîntul, Bucureşti: Editura Academiei Române (GA. I)
Biber, D., et al .(1999). Longman Grammar of Spoken and Written English (Biber et al), London: Longman
Channell, J. (1994) Vague Language, OUP
Downing, A., Locke, Ph. (1992). A University Course in English Grammar, Prentice Hall International
Hanks, P. http://www.dcs.shef.ac.uk/research/ilash/Seminars/Hanks.doc.
Manoliu, S. (2007). Intensification of Meaning. Central Markers, Iaşi: Casa Editorială Demiurg
Pârlog, H. (1995). The Sound of Sounds, Timişoara: Hestia Publishing House
Quirk, R., et al. (1985). A Comprehensive Grammar of the English Language, London: Longman
DICTIONARIES
Academia R.S.R. Institutul de Lingvistică din Bucureşti (1975). Dicţionarul explicativ al limbii române,
Bucureşti: Editura Academiei R.S.R. (DEX)
Benson, M., Benson, E., Ilson, R. (1990). The BBI Combinatory Dictionary of English, John Benjamins
Publishing Company. (BBI)
Chambers Thesaurus. (1991). W & R Chambers Ltd. (CT)
Collins Cobuild English Language Dictionary. (1994). Harper Collins Publishers. (CCD)
Longman Dictionary of Contemporary English, Third Edition. (1995). London: Longman. (LDCE)
CORPUS
(F/PI) Forster, E.M. (1989). A Passage to India, Penguin Books
(JH/C22) Heller, J. (1979) Catch-22, London: Thirty Bedford Square
64

Abstract
Part of the series of articles on peripheral marks of the category of intensification, the current
paper approaches the semantics the partitive-amplifying paradigm, the most significant segment
which furnishes partitive metaphor in English and Romanian. Reference is mainly made to the
metaphorization of collective specific partitives with a metaphorical meaming ‘the sudden relief
of an impressive quantity of energy” such as avalache, deluge, flood, stream, torrent, burst,
explosion, gush, roar, storm, wave of, which denote abundance and excess, which indicate,
depending on the collocation a quantitively neutral, favourable of unfavourable evaluation. As in
the case of intensifiers, it is more simply to establish meaning differences between cognitive
partitives and the partitives themselves. A wider distribution, quite common collocations and
associations quite often surprising provide metaphorical meanings with extreme hyperbolic
valences to these quantitative-non-numerical phrases. Romanian, which possesses most of the
lexicalizations of the English vocabulary, also reveals the presence of a set of partitives with an
archaic flavour, such as groază/potop/puhoi de, etc., also shows a tendency to improperly
borrow English partitives. The corpus was extracted from dictionaries, literature, mass media
and on-line sources.
Résumés
S’inscrivant dans la série d’articles consacrés aux marques périphériques de la catégorie de
l’intensification, ce travail se veut une approche sémantique du paradigme partitif-amplificateur,
le segment le plus significatif fournisseur de la métaphore partitive en anglais et roumain. Nous
faisons surtout référence à la métaphorisation des partitifs collectifs spécifiques à sens
métaphorique, « la livraison brusque d’une quantité considérable d’énergie », telles que :
« avalanche, déluge, flood, stream, torrent, burst, explosion, gush, roar, storm, wafe of », qui
dénotent de l’abondance et de l’excès et indiquent, en fonction de la colocation, une évaluation
quantitative neutre, favorable ou défavorable. On peut constater, tout comme dans le cas des
intensificateurs, qu’il est plus facile à établir les différences de sens entre les paradigmes
cognitifs qu’entre les partitifs eux-mêmes. Une distribution ample, des colocations souvent
communes et des associations parfois surprenantes, tout confère à ces expressions quantitatives-
non numériques des sens métaphoriques, à valences extrêmes, hyperboliques. Dans la langue
roumaine, où on retrouve une grande partie des lexicalisations du vocabulaire anglais et on
remarque la présence d’une série de partitifs à résonnance archaïque, tels que groazã / potop /
puhoi de, etc., se manifeste la tendance d’emprunter d’une manière impropre des partitifs de
l’anglais. Le corpus illustratif a été sélectionné des dictionnaires, de la littérature, des mass
media et des sources internet.
Rezumat
Înscriindu-se în seria de articole dedicate mărcilor periferice ale categoriei intensificării,
lucrarea de faţă abordează semantica paradigmei partitiv-amplificatoare, cel mai semnificativ
segment furnizor de metaforă partitivă în engleză şi română. Se face în principal referire la
metaforizarea partitivelor colective specifice cu sensul metaforic ‘eliberarea bruscă a unei
cantităţi impresionante de energie’, precum avalache, deluge, flood, stream, torrent, burst,
explosion, gush, roar, storm, wave of, care denotă abundenţă şi exces, indicând, în funcţie de
colocaţie, o evaluare cantitativ neutră, favorabilă sau nefavorabilă. Se constată, ca şi în cazul
intensificatorilor, că este mai lesne de stabilit diferenţe de sens între paradigmele cognitive decât
între partitivele înseşi. O distribuţie amplă, colocaţii adesea comune şi asocieri nu rareori
surprinzătoare conferă acestor expresii cantitativ-nonnumerice sensuri metaforice, cu valenţe
hiperbolice extreme. În limba română, unde se regăsesc mare parte din lexicalizările din
vocabularul englez şi se remarcă prezenţa unui set de partitive cu rezonanţe arhaice, precum
groază/potop/puhoi de, etc, se manifestă tendinţa de a prelua impropriu partitive din limba
engleză. Corpusul ilustrativ a fost selectat din dicţionare, beletristică, mass media şi surse online.
65

Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of GALAŢI
Fascicle XIII. New Series.
Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006
pp. 66 - 72
66
Language
and
Literature
PAST IMPERFECTS – PRESENT IMAGININGS: (RE)MAKING HISTORY
Ioana Mohor-Ivan
In 1994, when his study on Contemporary Irish Drama was published, Anthony Roche
was introducing his chapter on Northern Irish Drama in the following terms:
Since conflict is the essence of all drama, it should be no surprise that the current
situation in Northern Ireland has generated a considerable number of stage plays.
Catholic versus Protestant, British versus Irish, republican versus loyalist, the gun
versus the ballot box: to live in the North is to inhabit a drama of conflict whose
contradictions often result in lethal consequences. (Roche, 1994: 216)
If Roche was referring here to the interconnectedness between the theatrical stage and the
political violence of the last twenty-five years that had become an all too inevitable sight in
Northern Irish culture, the origins of the oppositional patterns referred to above lies with
the historical England-Ireland axis and the fact of colonialism, which, from David Cairns
and Shaun Richards’ perspective, has inflected the making and remaking of the Irish
identity by positing it as England’s other, to the extent to which “no aspect of identity […]
can safely be assumed to be inherent” (Cairns and Richards, 1988: 8). This proves Declan
Kiberd’s assertion, that “it was less easy to decolonise the mind than the territory” (Kiberd,
1996: 6), because the clusters of imagery evolved by each community for selfrepresentation
tend to fall into two categories: on the Protestant side, the basic opposition
established by the colonial discourse between self and other, recast as that between
civilisation and wilderness remains central, and the conflict is explained by reinforcing the
stereotype of the irrational and violent Catholic, who has failed to accept the democratic
will of the majority. On the Nationalist divide, violence becomes heroism, and ‘terrorist’
is replaced by ‘freedom-fighter’, by means of the reciprocity principle secured by a long
list of historic ills perpetrated against the natives by their oppressors, which require redress
in the present, the ‘inspiration’ being provided by the actions of legitimated heroes, from
Cuchullain to Connolly (Buckley, 1991: 261).
If history, or better said, its versions of the past remain obsessively afresh in
reinforcing loyalties and asserting identities, one should not forget that, to quote John
Berger’s opinion:
History always constitutes the relation between a present and its past. Consequently,
fear of the present leads to mystifications of the past. The past is not for living in: it is a
well of conclusions from which we draw in order to act. Cultural mystification of the
past entails a double loss. Works of art are made unnecessarily remote. And the past
offers us fewer conclusions to complete in action. (Rabey, 1986: 188)
Among other Northern Irish playwrights, Brian Friel has, so far, provided the most
coherent commitment to the investigation of “the established opinions, myths and

stereotypes which had become both a symptom and a cause of the current situation”
(Ireland’s Field Day, 1985). As co-founder of the Field Day Theatrical Company in 1980,
Friel offered in his own Translations an alternative way “of looking at Ireland, or another
possible Ireland” (Gray, 1995: 8; Andrews, 1995: 165). Set in 1833, at the time when the
Ordnance Survey resulted in the translation of the Gaelic place-names into English,
Translations turned the historical event into a dramatic metaphor able to comment on
present-day Anglo-Irish relations, while, at the same time, it brought into discussion the
traditional nationalist myth of “the cultural dispossession by the British” (McAvera, 1985).
Though a historical play, Translations foregrounded striking contradictions to the
mythology of colonialism through reversed stereotyping, psychological character depth,
instances of meaningful openness to the ‘other’ that asserted the possibility of crossing the
boundaries, and a basically optimistic ending, which suggested the desirability of cultural
fusion between the Gaelic and English traditions. As such, the Frielian text succeeded in
“re-making” history for the contemporary audience, and in this manner an imagined past
became meaningful for the present.
If, starting with its premiere, Translations has met with much acclaim, sometimes
controversy, but an overall impressive host of critical commentary, the same cannot be said
about the other historical play written in the 1980s, Making History (1988) 1 , to which
Anthony Roche’s study of Contemporary Irish Drama devotes only a passing, and
unjustly disqualifying remark that reads: “Friel’s much awaited Making History, his first
new play in six years, was a disappointment” (Roche, 1994: 224). That Making History
was not a “disappointment” can be proved by the fact that Declan Kiberd names it among
his selected triumvirate of Frielian plays to appear in the synopsis of contemporary Irish
literature with which his study concludes (Kiberd, 1996: 633-4).
As a new attempt at writing a historical play, Making History may have been
prompted by Kevin Barry’s remarks on the interaction between history and fiction on
which the latter was basing his appraisal of Translations:
It is certain that both history and fiction imagine and structure a past which neither
could make known without sharing the images and structures of narrative. Both
discourses enable the entry into what has been lost into a society’s understanding of its
present. (Friel, Barry, Andrews, 1983: 119)
As Friel himself has confessed in an interview, the writing of a historical play presents the
apparent advantage of dealing with established historical facts that lend accessibility to the
work, but also imposes particular responsibilities for the writer, “to acknowledge those
facts . . . but not to defer to them” (Friel, Barry, Andrews, 1983: 123-4). Consequently,
Making History acknowledges the ‘facts’ of the recorded histories of Hugh O’Neill, the 3 rd
Baron of Dungannon and the 2 nd Earl of Tyrone, the leader of the Irish forces in the last
Gaelic rebellion against the English colonisation of Ulster at the end of the 16 th century.
An adept politician and gifted soldier, O’Neill made the most both of his position as a
representative of the English Crown which had secured him the granting of an English
earldom in 1585, as he did ten years later in the Rising of the Northern Earls, when he
became known among his European Catholic contemporaries as the “Prince of Ireland”.
Nevertheless, the action of Making History condenses the events bridging O’Neill’s
marriage to the English Mabel Bagenal in 1591 to the aftermath of Kinsale into a
momentous episode lasting less than two years, in which the points of reference are:
O’Neill’s reciprocated love for Mabel (Act I, Scene 1), his facing the option of turning into
the leader that would coalesce a national resistance (Act I, Scene 2), and the anguished
confession of repentance written to the Queen when a fugitive in the Sperrin mountains
67

(Act II. Scene 1). A coda set twenty years later (Act II. Scene 2) shows O’Neill, now an
exile in Rome, endlessly returning to the same incidents of his life as the only means of
preserving some sense of ‘truth’ for his existence: “That is the truth. That is what
happened” (66). This final scene discloses that what the play has enacted so far were the
flashbacks of O’Neill’s mind, engaged in a kind of Yeatsian “dreaming back” of a
selective and subjective record of his life.
Throughout the play, O’Neill’s personal history is juxtaposed with the official
record of his life, exemplified by Peter Lombard’s De Regno Hiberniae Commentarius
(1632), a text in which the Catholic Archbishop had promoted O’Neill as the hero of the
European Counter-Reformation, becoming thus central not only to Gaelic historiography,
but also to the Nationalist tradition.
The whole text is structured on this opposition between the private and the public
realms, the inner and the outer selves, and this doubleness is represented by dividing the
stage space through the pairing of different characters. The domestic sphere of O’Neill’s
home in Dungannon places its dramatic emphasis on Hugh’s relationship with Mabel,
highlighting not only the private dimension in his life, but also a harmonious fusion of
Gaelic and English tradition, which also “characterised the central love scene of
Translations” (Kiberd, 1996: 634). Yet this world is intruded by the arrival of another pair
of characters, Lombard and O’Donnell, coming as messengers of the public discourse of
politics and tribal loyalties. Hugh O’Donnell’s sensationalist report on the troubled scene
surrounding Dungannon reveals a parochial and divided society, impetuous and unstable,
in a permanent flux of shifting allegiances, as its Gaelic chieftains are, in Lombard’s
words: “Constantly at war - occasionally with the English - but always, always among
themselves”(11). However, this is part of the same world of ancient rituals and ceremonies
that O’Neill inherited at his birth, “a way of life that my blood comprehends and indeed
loves and that is as old as the Book of Ruth”(28). While O’Donell impersonates Hugh’s
attachments to his native culture, the presence of Lombard enlarges the public theme by
placing it into the context of European politics. The Archbishop, “by profession . . . a
Church diplomat”(6), is the emissary of the European Counter-Reformation, speaking the
impersonal and abstract language of the organisers and ideologues. As a self-appointed
chronicler of the Irish situation, he has already inserted Hugh in his text in the preordained
public role of a hero:
And this is a résumé of my Commentarius - a thesis I’m doing on the Irish situation.
Briefly, my case is this. Because of her mismanagement England has forfeited her right
to domination over this country. The Irish chieftains have been forced to take up arms in
defence of their religion. And because of your birth, education and personal attributes,
you are the natural leader of that revolt. (7-8)
Despite Lombard’s claim that “History has to be made - before it’s remade”(9), the public
discourse has imposed “a pattern on events that were mostly casual and haphazard” (8).
O’Neill may ponder about his options and resist volunteering to appear in “the big canvas
of national events” (69), but the course of his actions has been pre-ordered either by
policy-makers such as Lombard, the Spanish grandees or the Pope, or by the polarised
language of imperialistic imagery, which, despite his Renaissance self-fashioning under
the guidance of Sir Henry Sydney, will inevitably brand him “Fox O’Neill”, because all
Irishmen “who live like subjects play but as the fox which when you have him on a chain
will seem tame; but if he ever gets loose, he will be wild again” (35). Positioned as
defender of “the Holy Roman Church” (33) by the discourse of militant Catholicism and as
the treacherous barbarian by that of colonialism, O’Neill is eventually forced to conform to
68

his public role, and engage in “making” history, while the rupture of his bonds with his
private self will be symbolised by the news of Mabel’s death.
Years later in Rome, with his official part formally ended by the full stop placed in
Lombard’s history after “The Flight of the Earls. . . the final coming to rest”(65-66) and
the position of “inacción” (56) assigned by the present political discourse, a broken,
drunken and penniless O’Neill will be left with a crippled privacy, epitomised in the
frustrating marriage to Catriona. The existent history of personal failure will be once more
juxtaposed with Lombard’s story where the former public failure has been turned into a
history of success. To become a “cause for celebration not only by us but by the
generations that follow” (62), the narrative will delete Mabel, signifying both the private
and the English dimension in Hugh’s existence, and will turn O’Neill’s life into a story of
epic proportions where even the “telling” of the battle of Kinsale “can . . . be a triumph”
(65).
Refusing to be imprisoned “in a florid lie” (63), O’Neill engages in his last and, this
time, personal battle to retrieve the wholeness of his lived history, lost in the simplified
narrative of Lombard’s book:
I need the truth, Peter. That’s all that’s left. The schemer, the leader, the liar, the
statesman, the lecher, the patriot, the drunk, the soured, bitter émigré - put it all in,
Peter. Record the whole life. (63) (underlining mine)
What Mabel has called the “overall thing”(68) means ultimately to reclaim the multiplicity
of life, in its shifting patterns of opposite manifestations.
And Making History fights its own battle to regain the “overall thing”, by selfconsciously
fore-grounding the relativity of absolute categorisations. The glass of whiskey
that Lombard holds in his hand may be both “a lure to perdition” and “a foretaste of
immortality”(69). In a similar fashion, the oppositional terms of the colonial discourse
resurface in various contexts and with subtle re-polarisations, in concordance with Friel’s
dictum that a writer’s task is to acknowledge but not defer to established facts. While for
the English Harry Bagenal, Mabel’s brother, the Irish will always be locked in their
description as “a rebellious race”, “so traitorous a stock” that have to be repressed (6), and
O’Donnell will be accordingly nicknamed “the Butcher O’Donnell” (17), truth is always
made relative, and no definitions remain fixed. Bagenal, in his turn, becomes for Hugh
O’Donnell “the Butcher Bagenal” (13), and his raids in the countryside, where he
“slaughtered and beheaded fifteen families” are described by means of the same language
with which O’Donnell boasts his own acts. Even Mabel, despite her openness to her
husband’s culture, is not spared falling prey to the language of English prejudice and,
irritated by her servants, shouts at them: “If you want to behave like savages, go back to
the bogs!” (20). But seconds later in the play, faced with her sister’s retort to the
convention trope of the uncivilised Irish, “treacherous and treasonable. . .steeped in
religious superstitions”, “a savage people who refuse to cultivate the land God gave us”
(24), Mabel crosses the border of the paradigm, and embarrasses her sister by asserting her
conversion to Catholicism and relocating the terms of definition:
As for civility I believe that there is a mode of life here that is at least as honourable and
as cultivated as the life I’ve left behind. And I imagine the Cistercian monks in Newry
didn’t think our grandfather an agent of civilisation when he routed them out of their
monastery and took it over as our home. (24).
Such ironic juxtaposition is a constant of a play which leaves no safe locations for pre-set
oppositions. O’Neill himself may make ironic references to the “Gaelic wilderness” (26),
69

the Italians may unexpectedly be conjured by O’Donnell to fill the negative term of the
matrix: “Bloody savages! The only time they ever smile is when they’re sinking a sword in
you!” (32) and even the Spanish view of Elisabeth as “the Jezebel of the North” is
comically reworked in Mary’s report on the English calling O’Neill “The Northern Lucifer
- the Great Devil - Beelzebub” (25).
O’Neill’s mind has the versatility of understanding both codes and see the values
and excesses on each side. On one hand, the Gaelic culture, stretching back “since before
history, long before the God of Christianity was ever heard of” (40) lends assurances and
dignity to his people. Yet, on the other hand, the same tradition can also entrap them “in
the old Gaelic paradigms of thought” (27), and the proud defiance of the Irish, exemplified
by the fate of Maguire, may become a suicidal action. Similarly, the English culture is
equally the epitome of the enlightened Renaissance mind, the necessary implement “to
open these peoples to the strange new ways of Europe,. . . ease them into the new
assessment of things” (40) and that of crude materialism, because it also represents “the
plodding Henrys of this world which are the real empire makers” (27).
Still, straddling both worlds, O’Neill proves by his own example that their
reconciliation and fusion is possible, as long as the openness to the “other” is preserved, an
openness also asserted by the meaningful relationships, be them of love or friendship,
established with Mabel and O’Donnell. Moreover, the “Other” can be enriching, because,
as Mabel says, his strength lies with him being both Irish and English, becoming thus “the
most powerful man in Ireland” and an enigma to the Queen, “the antithesis of what she
expects a Gaelic chieftain to be.” (38)
The balance is broken the moment O’Neill is compelled to side with the Gaelic
‘pieties’ against his English half. Yet, despite severed attachments and amidst the rash of
battle plans, Mabel’s presence restores her husband to his characteristic “calculation -
deliberation - caution” (37 Nonetheless, his carefully designed scheme of operations is
nullified by the Spaniards’ wrong choice of place, and O’Neill has the instant apprehension
of the fore-coming defeat:
O’Neill: Where do they land?
O’Donnell: ‘Keen-sall.’
O’Neill: Where - where?
O’Donnell: ‘Keen’sall’ - Kinsale, I suppose.
O’Neill: Oh, God, no. (42)
After the debacle of Kinsale the fiction of a nation state collapses into the “chaos” (44) of
the former quagmire of “squabbling tribesmen” (38), and O’Neill is confronted once more
with the imperative of opting between the Gaelic paradigm, represented now by his joining
the “Flight of the Earls” and living “the life of a soured émigré whingeing and scheming
round the capitals of Europe” (48), or the pragmatism of his Englishness, which tells him
to follow Mabel’s advice and submit to Elizabeth:
I should accept almost any conditions, no matter how humiliating, as long as I’d be
restored to my base again and to my own people (48).
It is at this moment that O’Neill professes his loyalty to the English Crown and surrenders
the last remnants of independence, but he does so fully aware of the consequences of this
act, which would render him “one great fraud” (49) to both sides alike:
O’Neill: Belief has nothing to do with it. As Mabel says, she’ll use me if it suits her.
O’Donnell: And your people?
70

O’Neill: They’re much more pure, “my people”. Oh, no, they won’t believe me either.
But they’ll pretend they believe me and then with ruthless Gaelic logic they’ll crucify me
for betraying them. (50)
O’Neill’s willed confession is done in full recognition that he will be forever considered an
impostor, but it is the only reasonable response to the devious world around him, and
becomes thus as important a chapter in his history as the other glorified events selected by
Lombard’s book:
O’Neill: And the six years after Kinsale - before the Flight of the Earls - aren’t they
going to be recorded? When I lived like a criminal, skulking round the countryside - my
countryside! - hiding from the English, from the Upstarts, from the Old English, but most
assiduously hiding from my brother Gaels who couldn’t wait to strip me out of every
blade of grass I ever owned. And then when I could endure that humiliation no longer, I
ran away! If these were ‘my people’ then to hell with my people! (66)
All the same, this episode will be dismissed by the Archbishop as unfit for “the story of a
hero” (67) and because, as Kiberd notes, “history is not written by winners or losers, but
by historians” (Kiberd: 1996, 633), the final lines in the play will be given to Lombard to
seal the divine stature of his character:
A man, glorious, pure, faithful above all
Who will cause mournful weeping in every territory.
He will be a God-like prince
And he will be king for the span of his life. (71)
It is a truism that history depends upon the “the surviving documents, which are the past’s
versions of itself” (Friel, Barry, Andrews, 1983: 118). The large brown book placed centrestage
throughout the last scene, Lombard’s Commentarius, is one such surviving record,
freezing O’Neill into a messianic hero. But Friel’s character breathes alive from the pages
of this “imagined” narrative of his life precisely because it has replaced the repressive
disjunctive co-ordination of the past with the liberating apposition. O’Neill can be a hero,
as well as a famished refugee, as well as a deserter to his nation, as well as many other
things in a play about multiple identity and dual forms of belonging that expose the
shallowness of all stereotypes.
The challenge undertaken by the play, namely to bypass the authority of official
texts by its own fiction has been resolved at the structural level, where the audience were
tricked to dismiss as inauthentic the testimony of an approved document like Lombard’s
Commentarius by linking O’Neill’s corrective reminiscences with their images, which had
been actually enacted during the previous three scenes.
Notes
1 For the analysis of this play all references are made to Brian Friel, Making History, London, Boston: Faber
and Faber, 1989, hereafter cited parenthetically in the text.
REFERENCES
Andrews, Elmer (1995) The Art of Brian Friel, New York: St. Martin’s Press.
71

Buckley, Anthony (1991) Uses of History among Ulster Protestants in Dawe, Gerald; John Wilson Foster
(eds.) The Poet’s Place: Ulster Literature and Society. Essays in honour of John Hewitt, Belfast:
Institute of Irish Studies, pp 259-271.
Cairns, David and Shaun Richards (1988) Writing Ireland: Colonialism, Nationalism and Culture,
Manchester: Manchester U.P.
Friel, Brian (1989) Making History, London, Boston: Faber and Faber.
Friel, Brian; Barry, Kevin; Andrews, Joseph (1983) Translations and a Paper Landscape: Between Fiction
and History, in The Crane Bag: Perspectives on Irish Culture, The Forum Issue, pp. 118-124.
Gray, John (1985) Field Day Five Years On in Linenhall Review, Vol. 2, No. 2, pp 5-10.
Ireland’s Field Day (1985) London: Hutchinson.
Kiberd, Declan (1996) Inventing Ireland: The Literature of the Modern Nation, London: Vintage.
McAvera, Brian (1985) Attuned to the Catholic Experience in Fortnight No. 3/ March Issue, pp 18-21.
Rabey, David Ian (1986) British and Irish Political Drama in the Twentieth Century: Implicating the
audience, London and Basigstoke: Macmillan.
Roche, Anthony (1994) Contemporary Irish Drama: from Beckett to McGuinness, Dublin: Gill &
Macmillan.
Abstract
Brian Friel’s third original Field Day play, Making History, is indicative of the playwright’s
rejection of the oppositional binaries on which both the colonialist and the nationalist definitions
of Irishness are based, and his search for a middle-ground, where the mechanics by which forms
of identity are asserted and problematised may be subjected to a critical investigation. The paper
aims to disclose the various strategies by means of which Friel’s play continually brings such
oppositional constructs into question and opens thus both the colonialist and the nationalist
paradigms to critique.
Résumé
La troisième pièce originale de Brian Friel pour la companie Field Day, Making History,
témoigne de la rejection de l’auteur en ce qui concerne les paires de concepts opposes qui
constituent l’essence des definitions colonialists et nationals de l’identité du people d’Irlande, et
de sa recherché pour une voie de compromise où la méchanique à travers de laquelle des formes
d’identité sont exposée et mises en question peut faire l’objet d’une investigation critique. Cet
etude a comme objet de reveller les strategies différentes à l’aide desquelles la pieces de Friel
met toujours en question de telles conbstructions opposes et elle ouvre également les paradigms
colonialists et nationals à la critique.
Rezumat
Making History, cea de-a treia piesa originală scrisă de Brian Friel pentru a fi produsă de
compania teatrală Field Day, reia explorarea spaţiul identităţii irlandeze în contextul revoltei lui
Hugh O’Neill, unul dintre evenimentele cruciale din istoriei colonizării Irlandei. Lucrarea îşi
propune să demonstreze că textul frielian rescrie naraţiunea istorică în registru imaginativ unde
modelele dihotomice de reprezentare a conceptului de Irishness, (caracteristice atât discursului
colonialismului britanic cât şi celui al naţionalismului irlandez) pot fi destabilizate şi revizuite.
Un veritabil text postmodern, piesa aduce in centrul atenţiei suspiciunea faţă de naraţiunile
totalizatoare, accentuând natura discursivă a reprezentărilor trecutului şi, implicit, a identităţii
şi subliniază instabilitatea, relativitatea şi provizoratul acesteia.
72

Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of GALAŢI
Fascicle XIII. New Series.
Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006
pp. 73 - 80
73
Language
and
Literature
EFECTUL PERLOCUŢIONAR EFICIENT ŞI COMUNIUNEA FATICĂ ÎN
TEXTUL LITERAR DIN PERIOADA COMUNISTĂ
Gina Necula
Preliminarii
Ocupându-se de acţiunea şi interacţiunea comunicativă din perspectiva pragmaticii,
Liliana Ionescu-Ruxăndoiu subliniază aspecte de interes pentru demersul nostru:
„Comunicarea verbală pune în funcţiune nu numai filtrul gramaticalităţii […], ci şi filtrul
reuşitei şi eficienţei. Există deci enunţuri corecte sau incorecte sub aspect gramatical, dar
enunţurile corecte pot fi reuşite sau nereuşite, după cum formularea aleasă de E permite
sau nu R să sesizeze intenţiile cu care au fost rostite, iar enunţurile reuşite, la rândul lor,
pot fi eficiente sau ineficiente, după cum au sau nu asupra R efectul dorit de E,
modificându-i în mod corespunzător comportarea, ideile sau sentimentele” (Ionescu-
Ruxăndoiu, 1991: 11).
După autoarea citată, fiecare enunţ constituie un act de comunicare în a cărui
structură pot fi identificate:
- o componentă locuţionară – actele verbale, având o structură fonetică, gramaticală
şi semantică, independente de situaţia de comunicare – obiectul de studiu al gramaticii;
- o componentă ilocuţionară – asociază conţinutului propoziţional al enunţurilor o
forţă convenţională specifică, determinată de intenţiile comunicative ale E şi recunoscută
ca atare de către R (acte reprezentative, directive, comisive, expresive, declaraţii;
- o componentă perlocuţionară – efectele produse de enunţurile cu forţă ilocuţionară
asupra R definesc actele perlocuţionare.
Trebuie precizat faptul că nu orice act ilocuţionar are consecinţe perlocuţionare
directe, ci doar actele eficiente. Ne interesează în mod deosebit efectul perlocuţionar,
component al oricărui act de vorbire. Efectul perlocuţionar putând fi eficient sau ineficient,
ambele efecte perlocuţionare pot fi definite prin prisma intenţiilor vorbitorului: efectul
perlocuţionar eficient este efectul pe care vorbitorul vrea să-l aibă asupra ascultătorului, în
timp ce în cazul efectului perlocuţionar ineficient intenţiile vorbitorului nu se
materializează .
Fenomen de limbaj, literatura nu este numai o construcţie de cuvinte, ci ea implică
o serie întreagă de referinţe extralingvistice. Din perspectiva teoriilor comunicării Corti
afirmă că: „La baza formelor de comunicare literară, chiar şi a celor mai originale, există o
arie comună de competenţă a emitentului şi a destinatarului, constituită de lectură, ca
sistem informativ şi comunicativ” (Corti, 1981 : 24). Fiecare text are un loc în literatură,
deoarece intră în relaţie cu celelalte texte. De fapt, nici literatura, cum de altfel, nici
vorbirea obişnuită, nu transmite de fiecare dată idei noi, ci doar repetă teme, motive, tipare.
În acelaşi fel se realizează şi decodificarea mesajului unei opere literare, fiind nevoie ca
cititorul să pună textul în relaţie cu alte texte la care a avut acces, pentru a stabili legăturile
de sens necesare.

În literatură posibilităţile semnificative şi comunicative se actualizează altfel decât
în limbă pentru că limba literară e un sistem de comunicare conotativ, cu acumulare
diacronică, iar sintagmele au un plus semantic care le vine din contextele artistice
precedente în care s-au actualizat.
În Principiile comunicării literare, Maria Corti aprecia că „artistul are pe de o parte
asprul destin de a surprinde obscuritatea profundă, indescifrabilă, a realului, iar pe de altă
parte de a asocia într-un mod nou semnele emise de referenţi în universul cultural şi
ideologic al propriei epoci, proces prin care el participă la natura socială a structurilor
literare, de care este condiţionat, fie că favorizează sistemul de aşteptări ale societăţii, fie
că se pune în antagonism cu acesta. Literatura apare aşadar ca un loc de întâlnire sau
confruntare între conştiinţa individuală şi cea colectivă, întâlnire ce se schimbă odată cu
schimbarea istoriei ei” (Idem. : 39).
Comuniunea fatică în textul literar din perioada comunistă
Propaganda a ales calea cea mai scurtă şi mai eficientă: activarea instinctelor. Sursa
energetică şi persuasivă a propagandei prin literatură este manipularea unor modele
binecunoscute omului simplu. Activarea resentimentelor, aţâţarea sunt cele mai bune
instrumente folosite în controlul mulţimii. Instigarea la ură a dat viaţă unei literaturi ce, în
mod normal, ar fi trebuit să fie hărăzită morţii rapide prin intoxicare cu clişee.
Felul în care este citit/perceput un text în interiorul unei culturi are semnificaţie politică.
Istoria literară este presărată cu exemple de texte care au fost considerate, la un moment
dat, periculoase pentru un anumit regim politic. Sarcina criticilor, în astfel de cazuri este să
sancţioneze şi să corecteze abuzurile. Sensul orientat al unei opere literare este o invenţie a
politicii.
Limba îşi impune singură regulile: trebuie să ne conformăm unui sistem gramatical
dar şi unui set de convenţii stabilite prin tradiţie pentru a putea fi înţeleşi de alţii. Există
întotdeauna în mesaj o serie de insinuări ale societăţii în care autorul şi cititorul se
integrează. În această idee se înscrie şi afirmaţia lui Green: „we read within traditions of
reading, and our assumptions are based on those traditions” (Green, LeBihan, 1996: 187).
Subliniem astfel faptul că aşteptările neexprimate ale unui text sunt parte a istoriei pe care
textul respectiv o poartă. Textele par să propulseze cititorul pe un drum
predestinat/predeterminat, dar ele pot fi citite şi interpretate în diverse scopuri ideologice.
Trebuie făcută precizarea că lectura literară este diferită faţă de orice alt tip de lectură
pentru că cititorul trebuie să ajungă la o anumită atitudine care să permită reiterarea tuturor
valenţelor textului.
Wolfgang Iser, în eseul Interaction Between Text and Reader, analizează
comunicarea prin literatură în următorii termeni: „a process set in motion and regulated,
not by a given code, but by a mutually restrictive and magnifying interaction between the
explicit and the implicit, between revelation and concealment. What is concealed spurs the
reader into action, but this action is also controlled by what is revealed; the explicit in its
turn is transformed when the implicit has been brought to light. Whenever the reader
bridges the gaps, communication begins. The gaps function as a kind of pivot on which the
whole text/reader relationship revolves. Hence, the structured blanks of the text stimulate
the process of ideation to be performed by the reader on terms set by the text” (Iser,
1989:106). Astfel textul este văzut ca o imagine fragmentară a cărei părţi lipsă trebuie
reconstituite de către cititor.
Abordarea textului literar se face din perspectiva funcţiilor limbii, interesându-ne
aici, în mod deosebit, funcţia fatică, o funcţie neglijată în majoritatea lucrărilor de
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specialitate datorită accepţiei şi rolului secundar pe care i le acordă Roman Jakobson. Ne
întoarcem aşadar la accepţia lui Bronislaw Malinowski (Malinowski, 1923: 313) asupra
faticităţii unui mesaj. Plecând de la premisa că funcţia principală a limbii nu este aceea de
a exprima gândirea, Malinowschi identifică drept funcţie fundamentală a comunicării
aceea de a juca un rol pragmatic în comportamentul uman. Este vorba aici despre limba
folosită ca instrument de comuniune socială demonstrând că oamenii se adună şi comunică
între ei pentru a arăta că fac parte dintr-un grup. Schimbul zilnic, banal de amabilităţi care
se întâlneşte în comunicare este numit de autor cu termenul „sociabilities” pentru a sublinia
nevoia omului de socializare. „There can be no doubt that we have here a new type of
linguistic use – phatic communion. I am tempted to call it, actuated by the demon of
terminological invention – a type of speech in which ties of union are created by a mere
exchange of words”( Idem: 315).
Din observaţiile lui Malinowski reiese că limba este folosită, în primul rând, pentru
a îndeplini funcţii sociale, adică relaţiile şi interacţiunile sociale sunt negociate prin
intermediul expresiei lingvistice. Ne referim aici la ceea ce autorul numeşte „comuniune
fatică” şi pe care autorul o descrie ca fiind: „a feeling of belonging to a community”
(ibidem). Comuniunea fatică implică menţinerea sentimentului apartenenţei la o
comunitate, a solidarităţii între membrii grupului, dar şi un sentiment de acceptare a
celorlalţi şi de acceptare de către ceilalţi.
Astfel relaţiile între membrii unei comunităţi lingvistice pot fi descrise, în termenii lui
Malinowski, astfel:
contact / relaţii ierarhice / sentimente pozitive = comuniune fatică
solidaritate
comuniune fatică
statut social
relaţii sociale
Toţi aceşti factori definesc limba ca un fenomen dinamic pentru că interacţiunea
fatică presupune acordul în privinţa semnificaţiilor, iar faticitatea poate fi negociată şi
construită prin expresii.
Comuniunea fatică stă la baza proceselor interpretative la care cititorul trebuie să
participe în scopul identificării corecte a semnificaţiilor intenţionate de către autor dar
neexprimate explicit. Asistăm în cazul literaturii la un tip de comunicare orientată puternic
către celălalt.
Cele şase funcţii ale limbii sunt prezente în orice mesaj în anumite proporţii în
funcţie de natura mesajului şi de scopul urmărit. Importanţa funcţiilor în cadrul
interacţiunii sociale determină o ierarhizare a acestora pentru că fiecare mesaj este dominat
de o anumită/anumite funcţii în timp ce celelalte sunt doar secundare. Georgeta Ghica preia
de la Mannheim o serie de observaţii privitoare la abordarea semiotică a acestui fenomen,
constatând faptul că acest tip de abordare „a dus la considerarea funcţiilor referenţială,
conativă, fatică şi expresivă ca fiind semiotic- extrovertite, deoarece obiectul mesajului
este în afara lui, pe când funcţiile metalingvistică şi poetică sunt considerate semioticextrovertite,
deoarece obiectul lor este însăşi activitatea semnului” (Cf.Ghica, 1999: 140 ).
Referindu-se la relaţia dintre funcţia fatică şi alte funcţii ale limbii, Georgeta Ghica
consideră că: „Exercitându-se la nivelul canalului, care reprezintă conducta materială sau
legătura psihologică (cf. Jakobson) dintre emiţător şi receptor, funcţia fatică se raportează
inevitabil la funcţiile emotivă şi conativă, orientate asupra celor doi factori menţionaţi mai
sus. Caracterul explicit sau, dimpotrivă, estompat al acestui raport este o consecinţă
firească a diversităţii situaţiilor de comunicare” (Ghica, 1999: 140 ).
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Funcţia fatică întâlneşte funcţia emotivă în zona interjecţiilor. Acestea au dublu rol:
pe de o parte, atrag atenţia interlocutorului, pe de altă parte, poartă încărcătură afectivă,
aducând informaţii cu privire la starea emotivă a vorbitorului.
Funcţia fatică şi cea conativă interacţionează – mesajele trebuie să fie percepute
corect pentru a fi decodate de către receptor. Ghica consideră că „un asemenea rol dublu –
fatic şi conativ – se observă mai ales la elementele care contribuie la declanşarea /
stimularea comunicării. Intrate în structura mesajelor, aceste elemente aduc receptorului
informaţii suplimentare, cum ar fi rolul sau statutul pe care vorbitorul îl acordă
receptorului; natura relaţiei pe care emiţătorul o propune, ajutându-l astfel pe receptor în
opţiunile pe care urmează să le facă” (Idem: 145 ).
Relaţia dintre funcţia fatică şi cea metalingvistică este prezentată în lucrarea citată
astfel: „Adesea, în verificarea codului, vorbitorul recurge la întrebări de tipul mă înţelegi?,
ştii? care, în acelaşi timp, atrag sau fac să crească atenţia interlocutorului, îndeplinind, deci,
un rol fatic” (Idem: 148). Funcţia fatică are în comun cu cea metalingvistică faptul că, în
timp ce una verifică dacă există comunicare, cealaltă este folosită de către participanţii la
procesul de comunicare pentru a verifica dacă se foloseşte acelaşi cod în vederea unei bune
comunicări.
În literatură posibilităţile semnificative şi comunicative se actualizează altfel decât
în limbă pentru că limba literară e un sistem de comunicare conotativ, cu acumulare
diacronică, iar sintagmele au un plus semantic care le vine din contextele artistice
precedente în care s-au actualizat.
Unele aspecte care interesează aici ţin de pragmatica textului, adică acelea legate de
cooperare. Cooperarea este definită de către Umberto Eco ca fiind acel aspect al
pragmaticii textului „care îl determină pe destinatar să extragă din text ceea ce textul nu
spune (dar presupune, promite, implică şi implicitează), să umple spaţiile goale, să pună în
legătură ceea ce se găseşte în acel text cu ţesătura intertextualităţii în care îşi are originea
acel text şi cu care se va contopi” (Eco, 1991: 25 ).
Comunicarea fatică este o trăsătură specifică conversaţiei zilnice. Efortul de a
menţine comunicarea demonstrează faptul că o conversaţie trebuie să fie dinamitată cu
mărci afective pentru că relaţiile sociale sunt negociate şi controlate prin asemenea
mijloace. Stabilirea unei legături între participanţii la procesul de comunicare poate
semnaliza raporturi de incluziune, defineşte relaţiile şi raporturile.
După cum declaram la început, intenţia acestei lucrări este să demonstreze
importanţa „comuniunii fatice” în cazul unui tip de comunicare pândită de tentaţia clişeului
şi aflată sub ameninţarea cenzurii.
Nevoia de a „congrega”, de a face parte dintr-un grup poate fi urmărită în textul
literar, mai ales în acele texte care, pândite de pericolul cenzurii, trebuiau să stabilească
contactul cu cititorul prin diversiuni care să înşele vigilenţa ideologiei de partid. Unul
dintre maeştrii disimulării înregimentării este Marin Preda, autor la care stabilirea
comuniunii fatice se poate face doar cuun cititor care poate citi ironic sau parodic clişeul
lingvistic subminat.
“Bine, continuă Moromete adresându-se prietenilor lui liberali, dat fiind că statul are
nevoie de parale fiindcă nu mai suntem ca pe vremea regimului burghez al moşierului
…de moşieri, cu sămânţa lor, de unde i-au mai scos şi pe-ăştia, care ştiţi şi voi alde
Costache şi alde Matei că se luă moşia a mare a coanei Marica îndată după ălălalt
război, şi nu acuma, dar dat fiind că numai ei au nevoie de bani, noi n-avem, să zicem
că fonciirea trebuie achitată…”
(Preda – Moromeţii II, 126)
Textul acesta atrage atenţia asupra unei trăsături specifice discursului ideologic: - e
vorba de un discurs unic, diferă doar persoana care îl rosteşte şi „patima”,
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ascultătorii/cititorii avizaţi se „lămuresc” repede că aşa stau lucrurile; - discursul nu are în
vedere un referent real ci doar reproduce clişee; funcţia sa principală este „să-i facă să nu
priceapă”, să manipuleze. În ceea ce priveşte modalităţile de inserare în discurs a clişeelor
constatăm, aşa după cum afirmă şi Rovenţa-Frumuşani, „bivalenţa funcţională a clişeului:
valoarea sa de introductiv al replicii şi rolul său fatic” (Rovenţa-Frumuşani, 1994: 12). Fie
că este asumat sau nu, clişeul este un element care contribuie la realizarea comuniunii
fatice, constituindu-se în liantul care marchează apartenenţa la o anumită clasă socială sau
legătuirle cu o anumită ideologie.
La Buzura, preluarea sloganului se face cu intenţie demistificatoare, cu atât mai
mult cu cât şi contextul trimite către ironizarea tendinţei de nivelare socială prin limbaj.
Personajul din Vocile nopţii, Pintea trăieşte o experienţă limită, este supus la interogatorii
pentru o culpă necunoscută. Reacţia în faţa torţionarului probează dorinţa autorului de a
obţine aprobarea cititorului:
„Aveţi voi îndrăzneala să bateţi un om al muncii, puişor? Pe un fruntaş în producţie?
Se pomeni Pintea întrebându-l cu o neaşteptată siguranţă. Păi, cine credeţi că vă dă
vouă pâine? N-ai citit că e interzisă bătaia chiar şi în sânul familiei? Păi, ai habar
câţi ţin eu în spate, eu acesta pe care de-abia aştepţi să-l legi? Şase micimane! Dar eu
cred că sunt mai mulţi. Confundaţi oamenii, îi sculaţi din somn. Şi tocmai acum? Păi,
ţara trăieşte cu mâinile suflecate, produce oţel, pâine, carne, şi voi ce faceţi? Mă
scoateţi din ritm, mă obosiţi, mă enervaţi. Nu vă daţi seama că întârziaţi cu voia
construirea noii societăţi? Se poate? Îţi tai raţia, înţelegi? Începând de azi îmi aleg pe
alţii care să mă călărească”.
(Buzura, Vocile…, p. 27)
Identificăm aici, pe de o parte, nevoia de a afirma apartenenţa la un grup prin
asimilarea şi asumarea de clişee şi, pe de altă parte, nevoia de a submina aceste bariere
lingvistice care ajung să devină bariere sociale.
Nevoia de socializare a individului îi impune să se supună unui anumit ritual lingvistic,
dacă societatea impune aceste tipare, dar ironia amară, care se degajă din astfel de citate,
demonstrează dorinţa de transmite cititorului mesaje subliminale.
„Pentru astea va avea grijă colectivul să facă nişte comitete de batere la cap. Ei o sămi
dea sfaturi, eu, spăşit, pe un ton dramatic, o să-mi iau nişte angajamente şi gata.
Zgomot mare pentru o nimic toată. Dacă o să fiu cuminte, mă vor coopta şi pe mine
într-un asemenea colectiv şi voi fi dat de pildă că am ajuns la fel de cenuşiu ca alţii,
bun de arbitru la concursul Cine-i cel mai incolor câştigă!”
(Buzura, Vocile…, p. 34)
Distingem pe de o parte, „intenţia autorului de a fi cu ceilalţi prin intermediul textului creat
şi, pe de altă parte, strădania cititorului ca, prin acelaşi text, pe care încearcă să-l decodeze
adecvat, să capteze un mesaj din nenumăratele mesaje care îl asaltează. Recunoaştem
totodată, în ceea ce Malinowski numeşte atmosferă de sociabilitate, cooperarea pe care o
realizează cititorul cu autorul textului în procesul lecturii, cooperare care decurge din
funcţionarea solidară a comprehensiunii şi a evaluării”( Ghica, 1999: 135 ).
Există însă şi situaţii în care ridicolul supraîncărcării semantice a unui cuvânt iese foarte
uşor în evidenţă. Prin personajul său, Ilie Moromete, Preda ironizează cuvintele de acest
gen sugerând intenţia de a le învăţa când, de fapt, e vorba doar de mimarea acestui efort:
„Moromete surâdea: «Auzi, mă, Matei, ce zice lipoveanul ăsta, că tu şi cu Giugudel
(şi l-a mai adăugat şi pe Cârstache la rând) cică sunteţi uneltele mele. Adică cum
unelte?» (Era un cuvânt din ziare, prin care erau desemnaţi astfel acei ţărani care
77

continuau încă să fie în relaţii paşnice cu chiaburii, cuvânt necunoscut în sat prin
care erau desemnaţi cei cu stare.) Prin unelte, Moromete dădea de înţeles că se
gândeşte la o furcă, o sapă, o greblă…”
(Preda, Moromeţii II: 124).
Interesat fiind de sociologia limbii, Fishman consideră că limba nu este doar un instrument
de realizare a comunicării interpersonale şi de influenţare, sau doar purtătoarea de
semnificaţii, fie ele manifeste sau latente, ci: „Language itself is content, a referent for
loyalties and animosities, an indicator of social statuses and personal relationships, a
marker of situations and topics as well as of the societal goals …” (Fishman, 1997: 27 ) .
Dominique Mangueneau susţine că „în calitate de discurs, literatura nu poate să se
plaseze în exteriorul cerinţelor principiului cooperării sau a legii modalităţii, dar, în
calitate de literatură, ea se supune, în funcţie de economia sa proprie, de raportul pe care
fiecare operă sau tip de operă îl instituie cu utilizările nelimitate ale discursului”
(Maingueneau, 1990: 121).
Concluzii
Ideea de comuniune fatică ne ajută, în cazul de faţă, să înţelegem mai bine felul în care
sunt negociate relaţiile autor-cititor în cazul discursului literar, putând menţiona, din
această perspectivă, două tipuri fundamentale de comuniune identificabile în textele
studiate: o comuniune care are la bază ideologia asumată şi una care se stabileşte prin
disimulare, urmărind de fapt subminarea limbii de lemn. Identificăm astfel două tipuri de
autori/cititori: un tip naiv, care se identifică cu textul ideologic şi aderă la el doar din
nevoia integrării într-un grup şi un alt grup care stabileşte comuniunea fatică tocmai prin
recuzarea unui discurs considerat ilogic.
Sănătatea unei naţii poate fi apreciată după starea în care se află literatura care o
reprezintă. Limbajul literar este diferit de cel comun pentru că finalitatea lui nu este aceea
de a exersa competenţele limbii, ci aceea de a exprima cultura şi civilizaţia, pe care le
poate modela. Limbajul standard are funcţie comunicativă, iar cel literar vizează intelectul
pentru că exprimă esenţa unei gândiri şi este centrat pe funcţia estetică. Din această cauză
punctul de vedere al unui scriitor nu poate fi decât unic, nicidecum colectiv. Un scriitor nu
este purtătorul de cuvânt al grupului social din care face parte, ci vocea unei conştiinţe.
Discursul literar devine, prin infuzia ideologiei, o formă a culturii populare, propovăduind,
în mod intens, principiile realismului social şi ale poporanismului. El dobândeşte un
caracter militant, servind atingerii „celor mai sfinte idealuri ale poporului”. Scriitorii sunt
numiţi de Stalin „ingineri ai sufletelor omeneşti”, având responsabilitatea de a lupta cu
„armele” specifice domeniului lor de activitate împotriva culturii burgheziei.
Distingem aşadar, pe de o parte, intenţia autorului de a fi cu ceilalţi prin
intermediul textului creat şi, pe de altă parte, strădania cititorului ca, prin acelaşi text, pe
care încearcă să-l decodeze adecvat, să capteze un mesaj din nenumăratele mesaje care îl
asaltează. Recunoaştem totodată, în ceea ce Malinowski numeşte atmosferă de
sociabilitate, (cooperarea pe care o realizează cititorul cu autorul textului în procesul
lecturii, cooperare care decurge din funcţionarea solidară a comprehensiunii şi a evaluării.
Nevoia de a „congrega”, de a face parte dintr-un grup poartă, în termenii lui Malinowski,
denumirea de comuniune fatică. Comuniunea fatică stă la baza proceselor interpretative la
care cititorul trebuie să participe în scopul identificării corecte a semnificaţiilor
intenţionate de către autor dar neexprimate explicit. Asistăm în cazul literaturii la un tip de
comunicare orientată puternic către celălalt.
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Specific comunicării literare este faptul că unei competenţe lingvistice a autorului îi
corespunde o competenţă a destinatarilor, pentru că aceştia din urmă sunt puşi în situaţia de
a descoperi în mesaj semnificaţiile intenţionate de autor. Astfel constatăm că opera conţine
în ea însăşi imaginea cititorului căruia îi este destinată însă raportul destinatarului cu opera
nu poate fi niciodată acelaşi pentru că destinatarul, ca şi emitentul, sunt o sumă de relaţii
psihologice, istorice, socio-culturale, semiologice. De interes deosebit, aşadar, în ceea ce
priveşte receptarea, conform unor dezvoltări şi aplicaţii ale unui alt adept al teoriei lui
Véron, „contractul de lectură” serveşte pentru a caracteriza funcţionarea, în orice tip de
„suport de presă”, a „dispozitivului de enunţare”, adică a „modalităţilor de a spune”,
cuprinzând: a) imaginea celui care transmite un mesaj, locul pe care şi-l atribuie acesta faţă
de „ce spune”; b) imaginea celui căruia îi este destinat discursul, locul ce-i este atribuit
acestuia; c) relaţia dintre emiţător şi destinatar, care poate fi, de fapt, altul decât receptorul
real.
REFERINŢE:
Corti, Maria (1981), Literatură şi comunicare, în Principiile comunicării literare, Bucureşti, Editura
Univers, p. 21-33
Dumistrăcel, Stelian (2006), Limbajul publicistic românesc din perspectiva stilurilor funcţionale, Iaşi, Ed.
Institutul European
Eco, Umberto (1991), Cititorul model, în Lector in fabula, Bucureşti, Editura Univers
Fishman, Joshua A. (1997), The Sociology of Language, în Sociolinguistics a Reader and Coursebook,
London, Edited by Nickolas Coupland and Adam Jaworski
Ghica, Georgeta (1999), Exprimarea funcţiei fatice în operele literare, în Elemente fatice ale comunicării în
româna vorbită, Bucureşti Editura ALCRIS-M94
Green, Keith, LeBihan, Jill (1996), Language, linguistics and literature, în Critical theory and practice, A
Coursebook – Routledge, New York & London
Ionescu-Ruxăndoiu, Liliana (1991), Pragmatica – domeniu al acţiunii şi interacţiunii communicative, în
Naraţiune şi dialog în proza românească, Bucureşti, Editura Academiei Române
Iser, Wolfgang (1989), Interaction between text and reader, în S.R. Suleiman and I. Crossman (eds.), The
Reader in the Text: Essays on Audience and Interpretation, Princeton: Princeton University Press,
106-112
Maingueneau, Dominique (1990), Pragmatique pour le discours littéraire, Paris, Bordas
Malinowski, Bronislaw (1923), The Problem of Meaning in Primitive Languages, în The Meaning of
Meaning – A Study of the Influence of Language Upon Thought and of the Science of Symbolism by
C.K. Ogden & J.A. Richards with supplementary essays by B. Malinowski & F. G. Crookshank, A
Harvest Book, Harcourt, Brace & Company New York
Minet, Pierre (1997), Le contrat de lecture dans les journaux télévisés belges: comparaison entre science et
football, în Sciences et Médias, p. 223 – 231
Rovenţa-Frumuşani, Daniela (1994), Introducere în teoria argumentării, Bucureşti, Editura Universităţii
Surse literare:
Buzura, Augustin, Vocile nopţii, Editura Minerva, Bucureşti, 1980.
Preda, Marin, Moromeţii, vol. II, Bucureşti, E.S.P.L.A., 1967.
Abstract
Human communication is seen as a very complex reality. Bronislaw Malinowski is the one who
identifies the phatic function of language as fundamental for understanding the communication
principles. Among the first conclusions drawn from his observations Malinowski states that
language is used to perform social functions; in other words, social relationships and interaction
were geared to the use of linguistic expressions. One of such functions consists of what he called
fatic communion. Language is used to maintain fatic communion - a feeling of belonging to a
community. Fatic communion involves the maintenance of a sense of community, of solidarity
with other members of the group, of a particular status within the hierarchies of the group, and at
the same time a feeling of accepting others and being oneself accepted by others. The present
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article tries to identify the way ”fatic communion” works within literary discourse, especially
within censored literary text that supposed to make use of extra means in order to communicate
with its reader
This article aims to prove that literature has a significant role in exposing the
manipulating policy of the communist boilerplate language. In this respect, intertextuality proves
to be an appropriate instrument of communication between author and reader. Such contexts help
to de-constructing this language and showing up its phonines. Our interest focuses on verbal
irony which is to be illustrate through literary texts belonging to the communist era when the
”freedom of speech, thought and action” was just a dream, so that the only way to really
communicate was by twisting the clichés.
Résumé
La communication humaine est saisie comme une réalité complexe. Bronislaw Malinowski
identifie la fonction phatique de la langue jouant un rôle fondamental dans la compréhension des
principes de la communication. Malinowski s’appuie sur ses observations et en extrait ses
premières conclusions : la langue est utilisée afin d’accomplir ses fonctions sociales ; autrement
dit, les relations et les interactions sociales ont été organisées pour l’usage des expressions
linguistiques. Une de ces fonctions représente ce que l’auteur nomme la communion phatique.
La langue est utilisée pour entretenir la communication phatique – le sentiment d’appartenance
à une communauté.
La communion phatique inclut le maintient d’un certain bon sens de la communauté, de
la solidarité avec les autres membres du groupe, le maintien d’une position spéciale dans
l’hiérarchie du groupe et, en même temps, du sentiment d’acceptation des autres et du sentiment
d’être accepté par les autres. L’article essaie d’identifier la manière dont la communion phatique
fonctionne au niveau du discours littéraire, du texte littéraire censuré de préférence, supposé à
utiliser des moyens supplémentaires dans la communication avec le lecteur. L’article veut
démontrer que la littérature joue un rôle significatif dans le récit de la politique de manipulation
du langage de bois communiste. Par conséquent, l’intertextualité devient un instrument approprié
à la communication entre l’auteur et le lecteur. De tels contextes vont contribuer à la
déconstruction de ce type de langage et à la mise en relief de son haut degré de fausseté. Notre
intérêt porte sur l’ironie verbale illustrée par des textes littéraires appartenant à l’époque
communiste. A cette époque-là « la liberté de l’expression, de la pensée et de l’action » n’étaient
qu’un rêve et, la communication n’était possible que par la modification des clichés.
Rezumat
Comunicarea umană este percepută ca o realitate complexă. Bronislaw Malinowski identifică
fucnţia fatică a limbii ca jucând un rol fundamental în înţelegerea principiilor de comunicare. Pe
baza observaţiilor sale, Malinowski include printre primele sale concluzii faptul că limba este
utilizată pentru îndeplinirea funcţiilor sociale; cu alte cuvinte, relaţiile şi interacţiunile socialeau
fost pregătite pentru utilizarea expresiilor lingvistice. Una dintre aceste fubcţii constă din ceea ce
autorul numeşte comuniunea fatică. Limba este utilizată pentru a întreţine comunicarea fatică –
sentimentul de apartenenţă la o comunitate. Comuniunea fatică implică păstrarea unui simţ al
comunităţii, al solidarităţii cu alţi membri ai grupului, al unei poziţii speciale în ierarhiile
grupului şi, în acelşi timp, şi unsentiment de acceptare a celorlalţi şi de a fi acceptat de ceilalţi.
Articolul de faţă încearcă să identifice modul în care funcţionează comuniunea fatică la nivelul
discursului literar, cu deosebire în textul literar cenzurat, presupus a utiliza mijloace
suplimentare în comunicarea cu cititorul. Articolul urmăreşte să demonstreze că literatura joacă
un rol semnificativ în expunerea politicii de manipulare a limbajului de lemn comunist. Astfel,
intertextualitatea se dovedeşte un instrument adecvat pentru comunicarea dintre autor şi cititor.
Astfel de contexte contribuie la deconstrucţionalizarea acestui limbaj şi la sublinierea înaltului
său grad de falsitate. Interesul nostru se concentrează asupra ironiei verbale ilustrată prin texte
literare aparţinând epocii comuniste când „libertatea exprimării, a gândirii şi a acţiunii” era
doar un vis, astfel încât singurul mod de a comunica, într-adevăr, era doar prin modificarea
clişeelor.
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Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of GALAŢI
Fascicle XIII. New Series.
Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006
pp. 81 - 90
81
Language
and
Literature
BODY LANGUAGE: SOMATIC IMAGERY IN WOMEN’S POETRY
Lidia Mihaela Necula
Body language and somatic imagery are two issues that have been dealt with quite a lot
lately. The answer for this might be that women writers nowadays have been making
poetry labeled as ‘extravagant’ by some and ‘outrageous’ by others. It should be mentioned
that what we nowadays call ‘shocking’ has in fact three subspecies: what strikes the
imagination – the extravagant; what strikes the senses – the repulsive; what torments and
tortures the feeling – the terrifying. Women poetry is trapped somewhere in between the
extravagant and the repulsive.
The aim of the paper is to examine three sorts of representative attitudes
discernable in women poets who explore female bodily experience associated with three
sorts of verbal strategies. In the work which is referred to, the familiar vertical standard has
shattered; body is not assumed to be inferior to some higher principle. The attitudes are
rejection, ambivalence and affirmation; the verbal devices are irony, comedy and
revisionist symbolism. Of special interest are the emotions, the forms employed and the
reinterpretations of other matters which follow from interpreting the body.
During the last three decades, America poets have been employing anatomical
imagery both more frequently and more intimately than their male counterparts. Their
female audiences enjoy this. Male readers, unsurprisingly, tend to be more uncomfortable
by female candor and to feel that it is inartistic. The American artist sometimes avoided her
femininity by getting her mental hysterectomy early. She will often not speak for female
experience even when the men do. She will be the angel-artist, with celestially muted
lower parts. Sometimes, in any of the arts, where women’s work remains beautifully
mandarin or minor, it may not be because of their womanhood but from their lack of it.
It is of course difficult for any of us to evade the mental yardstick which seems to have
been let down from heaven like Jacob’s ladder, governing thousands of years of religion,
philosophy and literature, according to which the mortal and corruptible flesh imprisons
the immortal and incorruptible soul, the body is base and the mind exalted.
If anatomy is destiny, we all want to escape it. From Plato to Freud, and beyond
Fred to Simone de Beauvoir, civilization means vertical mobility: one transcends the body
in order to achieve something o public worth. In The Second Sex (1972) Simone de
Beauvoir develops this idea more explicitly than any other writer, in the course of a
argument designed to show that male biology, because its strength and independence
encourage the masculine deeds of control, acts relatively to man’s advantage, while female
biology, because it is organized to serve the iron grasp of the species (ends of procreation)
rather than the individual, is a handicap. For de Beauvoir, the inferior life of immanence
associated with the body must become superior life of ‘transcendence’ willed by the
striving individual ego; this, she believes, will improve the lives of individuals of both
sexes, and the quality of civilized life.

As to woman, woman in mythology is the flesh when men write about her as she has not
been required to write about the flesh herself.
From pleasure to pain
If, traditionally, the flesh has been either overlooked or disregarded, that has happened due
to two main reasons. The flesh is both corrupt and corruptible; that is, both inherently
sinful and inherently subject to change and death. The former grievance is expressed
morally, the latter lyrically – and with the understanding that in the youth and prime of life,
the flesh is a source of pleasure.
A large number of women poets since the 1960’s appear to view the body as a
source essentially of pain, not pleasure. The topicality of such issues as: abortion, breast
surgery, rape have become part of women’s poetic repertoire. There exists a subgenre of
poems in which a woman’s flesh and blood are manipulated by a condescending doctor
figure. The damaged bodies of war victims, the hungry bodies of famine victims are
important images in the work of Adrienne Rich, Muriel Rukeyser, and Denise Levertov.
Women also seem drawn to describe psychic hurt in somatic terms.
“We sat across the table,/ he said, cut off your hands,/ they’re always poking at things,/ they might
touch me./ I said yes./ Food grew cold on the table,/ he said burn your body,/ it is not clean and
smells like sex,/ it rubs my mind sore,/ I said yes./ I love you, I said,/ that’s very nice, he said,/ I like
to be loved,/ that makes me happy./ Have you cut off your hands yet?” (Piercy Marge, The
Friend, 1973: 65).
The very beginning lines point to an idea of distance and coldness between the two
protagonists who have already engaged themselves in an incessant love battle for
supremacy: both of them have clearly marked their own territories ‘across the table’. The
hands have turned into lifeless/ loveless objects that are ‘always poking at things’: they no
longer are the mouth of the body which once kissed, touched and felt and comforted the
beloved one. The lines are filled with images that describe the metamorphosis of pleasure
into pain: love is the ‘food’ which ‘grew cold on the table’ with the passing of time and the
two lovers have obviously lost the passion which de-flamed their bond. The idea that love
is not only painful but filthy thus requiring purification by fire is in the line ‘he said burn
your body’, which, paradoxically enough might be seen as a solution to the riddle of love if
we are to translate it into ‘go and inflame you body, go and fill it with life, with fire and
passion’. The imagery created is so strong and powerful that we can almost picture the two
lovers sitting across the table while poking at each other, and smell the strong stench of
sweat gliding down the two bodies after having had animalistic sex. The woman seems to
be mentally crippled since she is unable to take attitude and react against her being turned
into a mere (sexual) object: ‘I said yes’.
With Anne Sexton, the body is turned into a protagonist of the poem: there is a
suggestion of self-abandonment into comfort, into tranquility, the tranquility that one needs
to flee back from all the ado of the modern world.
‘Oh, darling, let your body in,/ let it tie you in,/ in comfort …/ What I want to say, Linda,/ is that
there is nothing in your body that lies.’ (Little Girl, My String Bean, My Lovely Woman, 1973:
124).
Most women writers make use of powerful somatic imagery in their poems to
render the idea of psychic hurt and scorn of the flesh: there is always a strong connection
between physical vulnerability and ironic self-rejection.
‘Stop bleeding said the knife./ I would if I could said the cut./ Stop bleeding you make me messy
with this blood./ I’m sorry said the cut.’ (Swenson May, Bleeding, 1978: 54).
The normal as well as the abnormal in a woman’s life may feel like imprisonment,
as in Lisel Mueller’s Life of a Queen (1975: 134) which summarizes the biological cycle of
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cognate species: ‘They build a pendulous chamber/ for her, and stuff her with sweets … A crew
disassembles/ her royal cell’, or the opening of Anne Sexton’s Snow White: ‘No matter what life
you lead/ the virgin is a lovely number,/ cheeks fragile as cigarette paper,/ arms and legs made of
Limoges,/ lips like Vin du Rhone,/ rolling her china blue eyes/ open and shut’ (1973:84).
To understand the connection between physical vulnerability and ironic selfrejection,
we may consider Sylvia Plath. Plath’ work is filled with body images both
internal and external: skin, blood, skulls, feet, mouths tongues, wounds, bone, lungs, heart
and veins, legs and arms. She writes of both male and female bodies. She also projects
human anatomy into the natural world. The moon is ‘a face in its own right, / White as a
knuckle and terribly upset’ (1973: 142). Goldfish ponds being drained ‘collapse like
lungs’, an elm speaks like a woman pregnant, or cancer-ridden – one cannot tell the
difference: ‘Terrified by this dark thing/ That sleeps in me; / All day I feel its soft, feathery
turnings, its malignity’ (145). When the poet is hospitalized, tulips breathe: ‘Lightly
through their swaddlings, like an awful baby,/ their redness talks to my wound, it
corresponds/ They are opening like the mouth of some African cat’ (146). The organic, for
Plath, is approximately identical with suffering. Her poetry offers fragments of beings, not
whole persons. In The World as Icon (1970:73) the critic Annette Lavers notices that the
living flesh is felt as a prey to axes doctor’s needles, butchers’ and surgeons’ knives,
poison, snakes, tentacles, acids, vampires, leaches and bats, jails and brutal boots.
Similarly, small animals are butchered and eaten, man’s flesh can undergo the final
indignity of being cut to pieces and used as an object. Subjects and metaphors include a
cut, a contusion, the tragedy of thalidomide, fever, an accident, a wound, a paralysis, a
burial, animal and human sacrifice, the burning of heretics, lands devastated by wars, and
extermination camps. Therefore, Plath’s poetry is a ‘garden of tortures’ in which
mutilation and annihilation take nightmarishly protean forms.
A number of persistent motifs are particularly feminine. Plath’s imagery for
strangulation implies in extreme form the woman fatally imprisoned and stifled by her own
body. Attacks by miniature enemies evoke the idea of a woman’s body as a parasite,
feeding from her life. Children are hooks sticking in one’s skin, and placenta and umbilical
cord threaten to poet in Medusa. Most painfully, her imagery of laceration suggests
woman’s essential anatomical condition, shameful to endure, difficult to confess as in Cut
where the poet runs through a series of brilliant metaphors for the thumb she has just sliced
with a kitchen knife ‘instead of an onion’. All the metaphors are masculine and military:
‘Little pilgrim …, redcoats …, homunculus …, kamikaze man’ before the final ‘How you
jump -/ Trepanned veteran./ Dirty girl,/ Thumb stump’ (1973:149).
What, after all, is more humiliating than being a bleeding dirty girl? At the same
time, the landscape of war and mutilation in a poem like Getting there, the references to
Jews and Nazis in Daddy and Lady Lazarus, the Hiroshima Ash of Fever 103 and even the
sour commercial comedy of The Applicant in which a wife is sold like a household
appliance and only the mutilated man can be normal enough to marry, reinforce Plath’s
vision of worldly existence as at worst holocaust, at best tawdry sideshow. The drama of
social and political life plays out, on a nightmarishly large scale, the victimization of the
body.
Plath demonstrates a will toward detachment from body and word in two ways, of
which the first is Art – the distancing of experience through poetic manipulation. Her early
verse employs tight formal structures, bookish diction, a harmony of allusions to
sanctioned works of art and literature, and a consistently ironic impersonality of tone,
which has everything to do with rising above experience, little to do with dwelling in it.
The looser, less traditional forms of her late work rather intensify than relax our sense of
the poet’s control. She manipulates rhyme and off rhyme, regular and irregular mater, with
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the casualness of a juggler tossing knives, and her mature mastery of colloquial idiom
illustrates her contempt for the vulgar and cruel social relations which generate such idiom.
She becomes a mocker of the vernacular, using language against itself: ‘The peanutcrunching
crowds shoves in to see/ Them unwrap me hand and foot - /The big strip tease’
(Lady Lazarus, 1973:152). But ‘Dying/ Is an art, like everything else’. The implicit
equation is clear as early as ‘Two Views of a Cadaver Room’, which places a real-life scene
with corpses next to the ‘panorama of smoke and slaughter’ in a Breughel painting. In The
Disquieting Muses, Plath rejects her mother’s cheery songs and stories for the three bald
and faceless figures she accepts as artistic guides. And in Ariel, as in poem after poem, the
poet unpeels herself from her body, lets it flake away, annihilates the trash of flesh which
disgusts her because it would make her kin to the ogling peanut-crunching crowd – as she
transforms herself from the gross matter to a ‘pure acetylene virgin’ rising towards heaven,
or to dew evaporating in the sunrise – transcendence always means death. And if she fears
and scorns death’s perfection: ’Perfection is terrible. It cannot have children’, ‘This is
what it means to be complete. It is horrible’ (153), self annihilation is nevertheless the
ultimately ironic response to humiliation.
Plath is an extreme example. One may view her work aesthetically as a radical
extension of the mode of disenchanted alienation in the Eliot – Auden – Lowell line. One
may view it morally as a capitulation to weakness, self-indulgence. Perhaps it is both. In
any case, the identification of woman and body, body and vulnerability, vulnerability ad
irony – which in effect responds to the implacable indifference or cruelty of the external
world by internalizing it – is a common phenomenon in women’s poetry of the last thirty
years or so.
Advertising women
As W. B. Yeats has his ‘beautiful mild woman’ (actually Maude Gonnet’s sister) observe
in Adam’s Curse, ‘to be born a woman is to know / Although they do not speak of it at
school /Women must labor to be beautiful (1983:56).
The idea of vulnerability and self annihilation appears not only in the poems
marking the passing from pleasure to pain but also in such poems dealing with the
woman’s permanent concern to do away with the stereotype of exchange value created and
kept alive by men.
In reply, one may imagine a chorus of not-so-mild women poets remarking: you
said it. The labors of loveliness have not been traditionally spoken in poetry, beyond
misogynist attacks on the foulness of the painted woman. But they are now, commonly to
hilarious effect. Honor Moore’s poem ‘M’ Mother’s Moustache (1988:67) gives a wry and
detailed account of adolescence with and without depilatories. Karen Swenson tells of a
bosom which never attains movie star amplitude, and hopes (with oral metaphors in the
Spenser – Keats tradition) to find a man who will settle for dumplings at the feast of life.
Kathleen Fraser writes A Poem in Which My Legs are Accepted (1993:89). The opening
poem of Diane Wakoski’s Motorcycle Betrayal Poems (1971: 78) complains about ‘this
ridiculous face/ of lemon rinds/ and vinegar cruets’. Grumbling with the voice of
multitudes in Woman Poem (1973:69), Nikki Giovanni summarizes: ‘it’s a sex object if
you’re pretty/ and no love and no sex if you’re fat’.
Beauty, when a woman stops to think about it, mans bondage. In A Work of
Artifice, Marge Piercy compares the feminine fate with that of a bonsai tree, artificially
miniature.
‘It is your nature/ to be small and cozy,/ domestic and weak;/how lucky little tree …/ within
living creatures/ one must begin very early/ to dwarf their growth:/ the bound feet,/ the
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crippled bran,/ the hair in curlers,/ the hands you love to touch.’ (1973:153). Obviously, as
a woman, there seems to be a continuous interest for keeping up with some beauty
standards as early as the adolescence days. The feminine fate is compared to that of a
bonsai tree the symbolism of which sends us to the idea of limitation: it is its (her) innate
nature not to grow and say ‘dwarf, small and cozy’ all its (her) lifetime.
In Pro Femina, Carolyn Kizer advertises women and forwards the idea that there
are commercial-economic and emotional reasons that lead to a woman’s entrapment and
psychological handicapping.
‘Our masks, always in peril of smearing and cracking,/ In need of continuous check in
the mirror or silverware,/Keep us in thrall to ourselves, concerned with our
surfaces./…/ So sister, forget yourself a few times, and see where it gets you:/ Up the
creek, alone with your talent, sans everything else./ You can wait for the menopause,
and catch up with your reading.’(1980:42)
The adaptation of advertising language in the opening lines grimly indicates that a
woman’s face is not her own but someone else’s fortune. But what can she do? She needs
to be loved. Further on Carolyn Kizer talks about women of letters and addresses the
unique dilemma of the lady with the brains and ambition.
Is our perpetual concern of always wearing masks and pretending to be something
that we are not derived from our wrong ideas that we might not think ourselves worthy of a
man’s love? Is this frailty ego, deception? Could this be a demystification of the woman? If
beauty is just refraction, a distorted one, into the mirrors of our minds, why can’t we do
away with the bondage we have crated? We should remember Luce Irigaray’s Speculum
of the Other Woman (1985) where the mirror, used in its connotative meaning, is the
instrument of penetration in gynecology, but it also triggers off the process of
specularization – speculation (phalocentric thinking) and specularization – looking into a
mirror, therefore a narcissistic act.
While quizzical poems on the topic of beauty versus truth as applied to cosmetics
will admittedly weigh lightly in most literary scales, they typically embody two interesting
stylistic decisions. First, the poems are not openly autobiographical and factual, but antiliterary,
even anti-aesthetic, in the sense that they refuse, rather than cultivate, formal
distance.
In the volume of women’s poetry Making the Park, Marina La Palma wrote
Holding Fast, a poem on the woman-flower theme:
‘In a shop there are dark red/ and purple flowers growing from a pot./ My fingers
hesitate, then press against their/ folds – which yield only a little/ and give no sign
that they’ve been touched/ “Like intestines” he woman says./ To me they are inside/
vagina convoluted folds./ I hesitate before I say it/ thinking it might shock her/ obvious
and careful point of view.’ (1981: 76)
No persona, no gloss of verbal refinement intervenes between the poet and the
sense of personal inadequacy, or between herself and her audience. There is no extension
of personality here. As readers, we are asked to participate in the predicament of someone
who wants to be beautiful while challenging, implicitly or explicitly, the standards or value
of beauty for a woman, and who does not pretend to transcend the situation. It would be
inappropriate to make the poem itself too beautiful.
But the poem must be comic. Comedy enables writer and reader to agree that the
predicament is, after all, innately absurd. Not a life-or-death matter, is it? Clowning shows
that we have perspective. Or perhaps we laugh that we may not show the frown lines to the
mirror? He rollicking meter and jaunty-to-blustery tone of Pro Femina, unlike Kizer’s
more usual lyric style, serve the same function as a woman’s preening: they make a
disguise for a naked emotion, as paint for a woman’s naked face.
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Possibly, the funniest, certainly the most outrageous poem of this subgenre is Erica
Jong’s tour de force Aging, subtitled Balm for a 27 th Birthday. Jong at the outset presents
herself as: ‘Hooked for two years now n wrinkle creams/ creams for crowsfeet ugly lines (if
only they were one)/ any perfumed grease which promises youth beauty/ not truth but all I
need on earth’ (1978: 67). She imagines through several lines the advancing track of the
wrinkles as ‘ruin proceeds downwards’ and the face begins to resemble ‘the tragic mask’.
Her tone grows increasingly nervous, but the poem is undergoing a transformation of its
own, from self- mocking panic to self-loving acceptance. Though ‘the neck will give you
away’ and the chin in spite of face-lifts ‘will never love your bones as it once did’, ‘the
belly may be kept firm through numerous pregnancies/ by means of sit-ups jogging
dancing (think of Russian/ ballerinas) and the cunt/ as far as I know is ageless possibly
immortal becoming simply/ more open and more quick to understand more dry-eyed than
at 22/ which/ after all is all that you were dying for…’(67).
If a woman is naturally narcissistic, she might as well go the whole hog. Beauty is,
Jong reminds us, as beauty does. Incidental amusements like the play on lines and plotting
in a woman’s face or her writing (both of which show promise of deepening) occupy the
reader through the first part of the poem. The four-letter term at the poem’s crux has been
cunningly prepared for by suggestions that decline in on aspect may bring ascendance in
another. The close gracefully offers the pun on ‘what you were dying for’ and concludes
with a deft inversion of a centuries-old poetic convention. Time, the enemy of love in lyric
poetry since the Greek Anthologia, has become sequence of lovers-blundering, presumably
young and inexperienced lovers at that – to whom a woman, ripe with herself, can
condescend.
Jong writes less successfully when she attempts to make narcissism look sublime
rather than ridiculous, and poems of self examination in this surface sense do not easily
survive the comic mode. Because humor can effectively spotlight problems and conflicts
which are naggingly real and ostensibly trivial, the comic-autobiographical mode has
become a major opinion in women’s writing.
Female body symbolism
When women write to praise the body rather than attack or joke about it, their most
significant technique is symbolism. Water, moon, earth and living things, the natural as
opposed to the artificial, provide the strongest sources or imagery for women poets
engaged in commending the basic physical self, just as they always have for men
describing women.
Nevertheless, there are differences. The identification of woman with flowers, for
example, is as least as old as the Le Roman de la Rose. Elizabethan poets agreed that
‘Beauty is but a flower/ Which wrinkles with devour’. Keats urged the melancholic lover to
glut his sorrow on a rose, a wealth of globed peonies, or his mistress’s peerless eyes, all of
which with beauty that must die. Poets have seen both woman and flower from without,
whether in erotic poetry, poetry of witty seduction, or poetry of reflection on the transience
and mutability of life. But, when Diane Wakoski compares an armful of roses first with
skin and then with internal organs the, focus changes.
‘The full roses with all their petals like the wrinkles of laughter/ on your face as you
bend to kiss someone/ are bursting on the bush,/ spotting my arm, as I carry a bundle
of them,/ to my friends;/ they seem to have come out of my skin/ on this fragrant night,/
and I imagine the inside of my body/ glowing, phosphorescent, with strange flower
faces/ looking out from the duodenum/ or the soft liver,/ white as my belly, the eyes are
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always disbelieving/ the ugly processes that make a living body.’ (In Gratitude to
Beethoven, 1968: 54)
In their particularized detail-color, texture as well as dramatic quality, these flowers
resemble Plath’s poppies and tulips. One experiences not beauty but an overwhelming
vividness, energy and terror in the sense of self as living organism. The rapid and radical
alterations of focus in Wakoski’s lines blur spatial distinctions between night and roses,
ace, arm and the inside of the body, until everything seems equally bursting, hot, fragrant
and in flux. The extreme vitality of flowers and body approaches the obscene, as in Plath it
approaches the predatory. Though wrinkled, there is nothing frail or weak in the blossoms
of either poet.
The personalism and particularism of women writers can provoke both disapproval
and approval given that, on the one hand, the female tendency to define the self in terms of
relationships with others is a defect, and on the other, a virtue, since relationship,
communication and identification are primary devices for women writers. Again, when
Adrienne Rich writes of dividing into the wreck, or Sharon Barba of entering ‘that dark
watery place’, both poets accept a woman-water identification held in common with
Shakespeare’s Cleopatra, identified with the fertile and capricious Nile, or with Milton’s
Eve – whose first act in Paradise Lost is to kneel and behold her own image in water,
where Adam at the moment of his creation sprang upright and looked at the sky. One also
recalls the sea-mother in Whitman’s Out of the Cradle, and the Mermaids of Prufrock’s
plunge into memory, into fantasy, into that brief moment of womblike ease before he
wakes and chokes on mortal air. Throughout western tradition, descent into waters
signifies danger or death, consistently associated with the feminine.
Women who make the same plunge also evoke the dangerous and the unknown, but
they tend to evoke at the same time a sense of trust. The destructive element is their
element. It is alien, and yet it is home, where one will not be hurt. Rich notes that
relaxation rather than force is required to maneuver here, and she is confident of finding
treasure as well as devastation. At the deepest point in the poem she becomes her deepest
self, the androgyne: ‘I am she … I am he’. Barba anticipates, from these waves, the birth of
a new Venus, closer to nature than Boticelli’s.
Still again, if our most celebrated and compendious symbol for woman is earth,
adored as mother, revered as virgin, earth is of course other than the celebrant; she is
always the principle of passive material life divided from the mental or spiritual and she is
always subject to conquest. Women who identify with earth, however, include Margaret
Atwood who in her Circe/ Mud Poems (1973) taunts Odysseus: ‘Don’t you get tired of
saying Onward?’ and Yosana Akiko who in Mountain Moving Day (1983) makes the
mountain a symbol both of women’s bodies and of their awakening consciousness. The
idea of a consciousness invisible from the earthy body appears in Anne Sexton’s notorious
In Celebration of my Uterus, written on the occasion of a medical reprieve which has
defied rational diagnosis. Sexton’s opening is euphoric, buoyant, and hyperbolic.
‘They wanted to cut you out/ but they will not…/They said you were sick onto dying./ but
they were wrong./ You are singing like a schoolgirl’ (1989:68).
The poem’s central portion compares the uterus with ‘soil of the fields … roots’ and the
poet announces, in an engaging combination of insouciant self-confidence and generosity:
‘Each cell has a life./ There is enough her to feed a nation’(68).
The abundance and fertility of the poet’s imagination in inventing her group of
women of all types, from all religions of the globe, must be understood as a parallel to, or
an extension of, her uterine health. Moreover, this chorale of far-flung women cannot be
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perceived from without, precisely as the continued vitality and fertility of the womb has
evaded external discernment:
‘Many women are singing together of this:/ one is in a shoe factory cursing
the machine, /…/ one is tying the cord of a calf in Arizona,/one is straddling a cello in
Russia,/ one is shifting pots on the stove in Egypt,/ …/ one is staring out the window of
a train/ …/ anywhere and some everywhere and all/ seem to be singing although some
cannot/ sing a note.’(68)
As matter, so spirit. Both, according to this poem, lie within, in the realm of the
immanent rather than the transcendent. The function of spirit is to celebrate matter, not to
subdue or escape it, and women become mutually connected beings by the participation of
spirit in the principle of flesh they commonly share. (Sherry Ortner, Is Female to Male as
Nature is to Culture? 1974: 98)
Sexton has used a conventional fertility-and-harvest symbolism to lure us into a set
of convictions – here presented as perceptions – entirely opposed to those of the vertical
standard.
For a woman, perhaps the most decisively difficult act is to think of herself as
powerful, or as more powerful than a man, and capable of influencing the outward world
without sacrificing femaleness.
One poet who has asserted hat female biology equals power, and has found a set of
symbols to state is nature, is Robin Morgan. In the series of poems entitled The Network
of the Imaginary Mother (1977), Morgan describes a conversion from flesh-loathing to
flesh-affirmation while nursing her dying mother, and defines her biological capacities in
terms of goddess-figures – Kali, Isis, African and Pre-Columbian madonnas – representing
a triumphant will to love and nurture. Her husband in this poem is Osiris, a consort and her
son teaches the simple secret of delight. For Morgan is not the god-man of the Gospels, but
a nursing woman who says to her own son, and by extension, all children, envisioning a
world un-threatened by violence and famine: ‘Take. Eat. This is my body,/ this real milk,
thin, sweet, bluish,/ which I give for the life of the world …/ as honest nourishment/ alone
able to sustain you.’ (Lady of the Beasts, 1977:82)
Biological facts and spiritual interpretation here become indistinguishable. He
poet’s fantasy of a maternal politics would eliminate the burden of conflict between
humanity and nature, between individual and species, between woman’s body and social
change.
Self as world
Poets have perennially occupied themselves with discovering analogies between the
macrocosm of the world and the microcosm of the self. For many women poets at present,
the microcosm means, emphatically, a physical self from which it is neither possible nor
desirable to divide mental or emotional existence.
A particular endeavor of twentieth-century thought has involved a questioning of
distinctions between private and public life, in order to understand how each influences
and reflects the other. Here too, women poets seem inclined to insist that we begin with the
body to understand the body politic. None of these poets seems disposed to celebrate a
world of transcendent public action at the cost of minimizing the physical self. For some,
the dominant experience of life in the flesh is suffering. One can scarcely deny the public
validity of such an apprehension in the light of history. For other writers, the relation
between private and public means a conflict between what used to be called appearance
and reality. To cosmetize or not to cosmetize? This is a battle fought on the fields of the
skin, as well as on more dignified terrain. For still others, the body is felt as strength, a
88

kind of connective tissue uniting human beings at a level beneath the particularities of
individual ego or circumstance, a set of capacities both socially and personally valuable.
Compared with the variety and richness of works by omen in this area, the works of
most male poets in the 1970’s appears inhibited and unoriginal. If we may say that women
have contrived to make a continental landscape out of the secret gardens to which they
have been forcefully confined, we may say by the same token that men have endued a
certain self-imposed exile.
Distance remains a virtue in the male poetic establishment, almost like a corollary
of the training which defines the masculine body exclusively as tool or weapon, forbids it
to acknowledge weakness or pain, and deprives in accordingly of much potential
sensitivity to pleasure – a sensuous man is an effeminate man – apart from the pleasures
associated with combat or conquest. The discourse of male bonding may derive from big
and little, game hunting and the tennis court, or from allusions to the responses of women
in bed. These are the safe, sane, blush proof topics.
Men also look in mirrors, experience troublesome and delicious sensations
contribute to the generation of species and ride throughout life the tide of emotions
influenced by glandular secretions. They too get ill, grow old and withered, and are, in
sum, precisely as rooted in nature as women. Will they in due time acknowledge this
condition? Will women begin comparing the bodies of men to flowers?
Confronting old age, Yeats divided himself into two beings: a old man craving fiery
purification from the flesh and an old woman – Crazy Jane – raucously declaring her
satisfaction with it. One must assume that the discoveries women poets are making about
bodily experience, and the verbal tactics employed to name their discoveries, will enter
common usage and become readily available to men as well as women. Crazy Jane stands
at the foot of the tower, inviting the man to come down.
References
Akiko, Y. (1983), Mountain Moving Day in Gill E. (Ed.), Mountain Moving Day: Poems by Women,
Trumansburg & New York;
Atwood, M. (1973), Circe/ Mud Poems in Barbara, S. & Rainey C. (Eds.), Psyche. The Feminine Poetic
Consciousness. An Anthology of Modern American Women Poets, Dell Publishing, USA;
Barba, S. (Ed.), (1983), A Cycle of Women in Rising Tides: 20 th Century American Women Poets, Random
House, New York;
Barbara, S. & Rainey C. (Eds.) (1973), Psyche. The Feminine Poetic Consciousness. An Anthology of
Modern American Women Poets, Dell Publishing, USA;
De Beauvoir, S. (1972), The Second Sex, H. M. Parshley (Trans.), Penguin Books, London & New York;
Fraser, K. (1993), A Poem in which my Legs are Accepted in DiYanni R. & Rompf, K. The McGraw-Hill
Book of Poetry, The McGraw-Hill Companies, New York;
Giovanni, N. (1973), Woman Poem in Black Feeling, Black Talk, Black Judgment, Pocket Books, New York;
Irigaray, L. (1985), Speculum of the Other Woman, Gillian C. G. (Trans.), Cornell University Press, New
York;
Jong, E. (1978), Aging. Balm for a 27 th Birthday in Fruits and Vegetables, The Holt, Rinehart and Winston
Publishing House, New York;
Kizer, C. (1980), Pro Femina in Knock Upon Silence, Random House, New York;
La Palma, M. (1981), Holding Fast in Making the Park, University of California Press, Berkeley;
Lavers, A. (1970), The World as Icon: on Sylvia Plath’s Themes in Charles Newman (Ed.), The Art of
Sylvia Plath, Indiana University Press, Bloomington;
Morgan, R. (1977), Lady of the Beasts in The Network of the Imaginary Mother, Random House, New York;
Moore, H. (1988), Mother’s Moustache in Memoir: Poems, Chicory Blue Press, Connecticut, US
Ortner, S. (1974), Is Female to Male as Nature is to Culture? in Michelle Zimbalist Rosaldo & Louise
Lamphere (Eds.), Women, Culture and Society, Stanford University Press, California;
Piercy, M. (1973), The Friend in Barbara, S. & Rainey C. (Eds.), Psyche. The Feminine Poetic
Consciousness. An Anthology of Modern American Women Poets, Dell Publishing, USA;
*** (1973), A Work of Artifice in Barbara, S. & Rainey C. (Eds.), Psyche. The Feminine Poetic
Consciousness. An Anthology of Modern American Women Poets, Dell Publishing, USA;
89

Plath, S. (1973), Ariel in Barbara, S. & Rainey C. (Eds.), Psyche. The Feminine Poetic Consciousness. An
Anthology of Modern American Women Poets, Dell Publishing, USA;
***(1973), Cut in Barbara, S. & Rainey C. (Eds.), Psyche. The Feminine Poetic Consciousness. An
Anthology of Modern American Women Poets, Dell Publishing, USA;
***(1973), Daddy in Barbara, S. & Rainey C. (Eds.), Psyche. The Feminine Poetic Consciousness. An
Anthology of Modern American Women Poets, Dell Publishing, USA;
***(1973), Fever 103 in Barbara, S. & Rainey C. (Eds.), Psyche. The Feminine Poetic Consciousness. An
Anthology of Modern American Women Poets, Dell Publishing, USA;
*** (1973), Getting There in Barbara, S. & Rainey C. (Eds.), Psyche. The Feminine Poetic Consciousness.
An Anthology of Modern American Women Poets, Dell Publishing, USA;
***(1973), Hiroshima Ash in Barbara, S. & Rainey C. (Eds.), Psyche. The Feminine Poetic Consciousness.
An Anthology of Modern American Women Poets, Dell Publishing, USA;
***(1973), Lady Lazarus in Barbara, S. & Rainey C. (Eds.), Psyche. The Feminine Poetic Consciousness. An
Anthology of Modern American Women Poets, Dell Publishing, USA;
***(1973), Medusa in Barbara, S. & Rainey C. (Eds.), Psyche. The Feminine Poetic Consciousness. An
Anthology of Modern American Women Poets, Dell Publishing, USA;
*** (1973), The Applicant in Barbara, S. & Rainey C. (Eds.), Psyche. The Feminine Poetic Consciousness.
An Anthology of Modern American Women Poets, Dell Publishing, USA;
***(1973), The Disquieting Muse in Barbara, S. & Rainey C. (Eds.), Psyche. The Feminine Poetic
Consciousness. An Anthology of Modern American Women Poets, Dell Publishing, USA;
Rich, A. (1975), Women in Poems Selected and New, Norton & Company, New York;
Sexton, A. (1973), Little Girl, My String Bean, My Lovely Woman in Barbara, S. & Rainey C. (Eds.), Psyche.
The Feminine Poetic Consciousness. An Anthology of Modern American Women Poets, Dell
Publishing, USA;
***(1989), In Celebration of My Uterus in Love Poems, Mariner Books, New York;
Suckenick , L. (1975), The Poster in Laura Chester and Sharon Barba (Eds.), Rising Tides: 20 th Century
American Women Poets, Random House, New York;
Swenson, M. (1978), Bleeding in Things Taking Place: Poems Selected and New, Little Brown & Co.,
Boston;
Wakoski, D. (1971), I Have Had to Learn to Live with My Face, in The Motorcycle Betrayal Poems,
Touchstone, New York;
*** (1968), In Gratitude to Beethoven in Inside the Blood Factory, Garden City: Doubleday, New York;
Yeats, W.B. (1983), Adam’s Curse in Finneran R.J. (Ed.), The Collected Poems of W. B. Yeats, Oxford
University Press, London.
Abstract
The present paper aims at examining three sorts of representative attitudes discernable in women
poets who explore female bodily experience associated with three sorts of verbal strategies.
Résumé
Cet article essai d’examiner trois catégories représentatives qui peuvent être identifiées dans la
poèsie des poétesses qui explorent l’expérience sensorielle du corps en l’associant aux trois
catégories de stratégies verbales.
Rezumat
Lucrarea de faţă îşi propune spre analiză trei tipuri de atitudini reprezentative ce pot fi
identificate în poezia scrisă de poetese care explorează experienţa corpului feminin asociindu-i
trei tipuri de strategii verbale.
90

Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of GALAŢI
Fascicle XIII. New Series.
Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006
pp. 91- 98
91
Language
and
Literature
UTRAQUE LINGUA – BILINGVISMUL GRECO-LATIN ŞI IMPLICAŢIILE
SALE
Mihaela Paraschiv
Expresia utraque lingua, cu sensul "ambele limbi", apare şi în variantele sinonimice
utraque oratio, uterque sermo la autorii latini care recomandă sau elogiază exprimarea
curentă în limbile greacă veche şi latină, indispensabilă formării omului cult. În
introducerea tratatului De officiis, dedicat fiului său Marcus, Cicero îl îndeamnă să-i imite
exemplul pentru a deveni la fel de capabil să se exprime în ambele limbi: ut ipse ad meam
utilitatem semper cum Graecis Latina coniunxi, idem tibi censeo faciendum, ut par sis in
utriusque orationis facultate (aşa cum eu însumi am îmbinat mereu cele latine cu cele
greceşti) la fel cred că trebuie să faci şi tu pentru a deveni deopotrivă de abil în exprimarea
în cele două limbi).[1] Tot Cicero recomanda oratorului să vorbească sau să scrie în care
dintre cele două limbi ar voi: aut dicat aut scribat utra voles lingua.[2] Într-o odă dedicată
lui Maecenas [3], Horatius i se adresează cu apelativul docte sermones utriusque linguae
(iscusitule în literaturile celor două limbi), iar între sfaturile înţelepte adresate tinerilor de
Ovidius în Ars amatoria figura şi acesta: Impodobeşte-ţi mintea cu artele frumoase,/ Învaţă
şi latina şi graiul lui Homer.[4]
Pedagogul Quintilianus recomanda învăţarea paralelă în şcoală a celor două limbi;
e bine să se înceapă cu greaca, opina el, dar imediat şi apoi paralel trebuie să urmeze latina,
pentru ca nici una să nu-i dăuneze celeilalte "atunci când vom începe să ne preocupăm cu
aceeaşi grijă de ambele limbi" (cum aequali cura linguam utramque tueri coeperimus) [5]
Recomandarea sa vizează tendinţa devenită curentă în rândul pedagogilor (în majoritate de
origine greacă) de a-i învăţa pe copii să vorbească doar greceşte: N-aş vrea totuşi să se
procedeze atât de pedant, încât să vorbească sau să înveţe multă vreme doar
greceşte, aşa cum obişnuiesc cei mai mulţi.[6]
De la istoricul Suetonius aflăm că în primele şcoli înfiinţate la Roma, pedagogi
precum Livius Andronicus şi Ennius (unul grec din Tarent, celălalt bun cunoscător al
limbii greceşti), îi instruiau pe copii în utraque lingua, înlesnind de timpuriu (sec.III a.C.)
formarea unor generaţii bilingve.
O preocupare de seamă a filologilor clasicişti a fost stabilirea unui terminus a quo
al bilingvismului latino-grec. A.Meillet, studiind lexicul comediilor plautine, crede că în
secolul al III-lea a.C., publicul lui Plautus din păturile inferioare ale societăţii romane era
capabil să înţeleagă numeroasele grecisme din comediile acestuia, întrucât cunoştea limba
greacă.[7] Şi în opinia lui Johannes Kramer, prezenţa exclamaţiilor, a adverbelor şi
imprecaţiilor de origine greacă în comediile plautine este un detaliu semnificativ pentru
măsura în care circula vocabularul grec în păturile inferioare; acest bilingvism popular se
va regăsi în romanul lui Petronius, fapt care demonstrează, crede Kramer, că, la fel ca
Roma, şi Italia meridională a fost bilingvă.[8]

P.Boyancé contestă această interpretare, opinând că numai începând cu secolul al
II-lea a.C. şi numai în mediile culte se poate vorbi de bilingvism; el remarca însă faptul că
magistraţii romani bilingvi selectau cu multă atenţie circumstanţele în care îşi permiteau să
vorbească în limba greacă, pentru a nu-ţi submina prestigiul de reprezentanţi oficiali ai
poprului roman învingător.[9] Şi Pierre Grimal e de părere că doar din secolul al II-lea a.C.
gândirea şi limbile celor două naţii, greacă şi romană, au trăit într-o simbioză aproape
totală, deoarece, prin educaţie, tinerii romani, mai ales din păturile superioare, ajung a
poseda cele două limbi de cultură şi, implicit, o dublă formaţie spirituală.[10] Tot în
mediile aristocrate e de părere şi J.Marouzeau că a început a fi cunoscută şi vorbită la
Roma limba greacă, dar cu mult înainte de secolul II a.C.; unul dintre argumentele sale
sunt acele cognomina Graeca pe care le-au primit aristocraţii elenofili încă din secolul IV
a.C., precum consulul Paulus Sempronius care a fost numit în 304 a.C. Sophus. [11]
În propagarea elenismului în mediul roman un aport precumpănitor l-a avut Cercul
Scipionilor, întemeiat de Publius Cornelius Scipio Aemilianus în secolul II a.C.; despre
membrii acestui cerc cultural elenofil, Cicero spunea cu admiraţie: Această cetate
nu a dat oameni mai renumiţi prin glorie şi mai desăvârşiţi prin cultură, decât P.
Africanus, C.Laelius, L.Furius, care nu s-au ferit să aibă mereu în anturajul lor pe cei mai
învăţaţi oameni din Grecia.[12] Informaţia lui Cicero "nu s-au ferit să aibă" (palam
habuerunt), alude, desigur, la opozanţii facţiunii filoelene romane conduse de Scipioni,
între care cel mai vehement a fost Cato Maior. În calitate de censor acesta a avut două
iniţiative xenofobe, motivate, în opinia sa, de necesitatea imperioasă de a îndepărta
influenţa nefastă a grecilor, care, spunea el indignat chiar şi pe noi, romanii, ne numesc
barbari [13]: în 173 a.C. au fost alungaţi din Roma filosofii şi retorii greci, iar în 155 a.C.
este expulzată delegaţia ateniană condusă de filosofii Carneades, Critolaos şi Diogenes.
P.Grimal crede că totuşi Cato nu ar fi refuzat sistematic tot ceea ce era grecesc, mai ales
dacă provenea din tradiţia atică şi că ar fi învăţat limba greacă nu la bătrâneţe, cum se
spune, ci în tinereţe, în timpul campaniilor militare din Graecia Magna. [14]
În pofida unor atitudini ostentativ naţionaliste, precum cea a lui Cato Maior,
bilingvismul se va încetăţeni la Roma, în rândul reprezentanţilor clasei superioare, fapt
atestat de mărturiile autorilor: Cicero îl numea pe epicureicul roman Titus Albucius, plane
Graecus (grec sadea) [15]; despre Titus Pomponius Atticus, prietenul lui Cicero, Cornelius
Nepos afirma că "aşa vorbea greceşte, încât părea că s-a născut la Atena" (sic
enim Graece loquebatur, ut Athenis natus videretur) [16]; după informaţia lui Quintilianus,
omul politic roman Licinius Crassus cunoştea bine cinci dialecte greceşti, astfel că, în
calitate de guvernator în Asia, era capabil să dea o sentinţă în oricare dialect ar fi cerut
cineva să i se facă dreptate. [17] Măsura cunoşterii limbii greceşti de către Cicero poate fi
dedusă mai ales din corespondenţa sa, presărată cu numeroase expresii, versuri, proverbe
de origine greacă; totuşi, observă pe bună dreptate Marouzeau, Cicero nu recurge la
elenisme decât în corespondenţa cu prietenii mai apropiaţi, dintr-o anume cochetărie
(lascivia), specifică stilului familiar. [18] Aceasta, întrucât, cu toată admiraţia sa pentru
limba şi cultura greacă, Cicero consideră ca pe o datorie civică folosirea limbii materne şi i
se pare ridicol abuzul de elenisme în vorbire: sermone eo debemus uti, qui innatus est
nobis, ne ut quidem Graeca verba inculcantes, iure optimo rideamur (se cuvine să ne
folosim de limba care ne-a fost dată prin naştere, ca să nu ne facem, pe bună dreptate, de
râs, precum cei care intercalează cuvinte greceşti).[19] Totuşi, Cicero, la fel
ca alţi autori latini, în pofida naţionalismului lingvistic profesat oficial, şi-a scris unele
lucrări în limba greacă; el îl informează pe Atticus că şi-a redactat în greacă memoriile
despre consulatul său, pe care le-a trimis spre lectură filosofului grec Poseidonios şi că
acesta a fost uimit de expresia lui curgătoare şi limpede, cu nimic mai prejos de cea a unui
grec: Poseidonios mi-a scris, nu de mult, că citind acele memorii, nu numai că n-a fost
92

îndemnat să mai scrie, ci a fost descurajat de-a binelea. Ce vrei? Am speriat tot neamul
grecesc. [20]
În ce priveşte opţiunea romanilor bilingvi de a se exprima ocazional în greacă, mai
ales în scrisori şi în conversaţiile intime, Pabón e de părere că ea sugerează un ton de
încredere, de familiaritate, o anume intimitate cu destinatarul. Un caz mult discutat de
istorici şi filologi au fost vorbele adresate înainte de moarte de Caesar lui Brutus, rostite în
limba greacă, spune Suetonius: tradiderunt quidam Marco Bruto irruenti dixisse Caesarem
Kαι σύ, τέκνον. (Unii au transmis că Caesar i-a spus lui Marcus Brutus când se
năpustea asupra lui: şi tu, fiule?) [21] Explicaţia dată de R.Flacelière acestui fapt este
destul de anostă: "mulţi romani cultivaţi se exprimau spontan în greacă, mai ales pentru că
preferau să fie înţeleşi de cei din jur." [22] Într-un articol dedicat acestei celebre replici,
M. Dubuisson afirmă că prima limbă însuşită, numită în mod curent maternă, lasă o
amprentă de neşters în subconştientul vorbitorului bilingv, ea rămânând limba viselor, a
exclamaţiilor instinctive, a cuvintelor pronunţate într-un stadiu incitativ de mânie, delir,
spaimă, nelinişte. Or, aşa cum ne informează Quintilianus, greaca reprezenta pentru tinerii
romani din elita societăţii, dacă nu limba maternă propriu-zisă, cel puţin cea dintâi limbă
învăţată. Explicaţia lui Dubuisson privind opţiunea romanilor pentru greacă ca limbă a
intimităţii este susţinută ţi de observaţiile ironice ale satiricului Iuvenalis referitoare la
tentaţia femeilor de neam italic din Roma, de a o face pe grecoaicele în conversaţiile lor
intime: ştiu femei care cu toate că-n Toscana sunt născute,/ Socotesc că-s mai distinse
dându-se din neam elin./ Şi pretind că-s din Atena, când de la Sulmona vin./ Toate-s după
moda greacă şi nici una nu roşeşte/ că nu ştie cum se cade să vorbească latineşte./
Tăinuiesc, glumesc, se ceartă pe greceşte: limba lor! Pe greceşte le e frică, pe greceşte fac
amor.[23]
Despre Octavianus Augustus, Suetonius ne informează că iubea literatura greacă,
că primise o bună educaţie retorică şi filosofică de la dascălii săi greci, dar că nu vorbea cu
uşurinţă limba greacă (Augustus, 89).
În vremea imperiului, folosirea limbii greceşti cunoaşte o vogă nemaiîntâlnită până
atunci la Roma, oraş care devenise, spune Iuvenalis o urbs quasi Graeca; în consecinţă, se
va recurge uneori la o intervenţie oficială pentru a impune o anumită decenţă în uzul
grecismelor. Suetonius relatează că împăratul Tiberius, deşi era un abil vorbitor de limbă
greacă, a cerut excluderea cuvintelor greceşti din decretele senatoriale, acceptând doar în
cazuri de strictă necesitate un împrumut lexical sau semantic; el însuşi a cerut în prealabil
scuze senatului atunci când a fost constrâns de lipsa unor echivalente latine să folosească
într-un discurs cuvintele greceşti monopolium şi emblema (Tiberius, 71). Acelaşi istoric ne
informează însă că alţi împăraţi nu s-au sfiit să-şi etaleze public bilingvismul. Împăratul
Claudius recunoştea în orice împrejurare frumuseţea limbii greceşti, pe care o considera
limba naţională a romanilor, lăudându-l pe un sol străin că vorbea curent "ambele noastre
limbi" (uterque sermo noster – Claudius, 42); el a scris în limba greacă 20 de cărţi despre
etrusci şi 8 despre cartaginezi. Şi despre Nero Suetonius spune că la o vârstă foarte tânără
pleda la procese atât în latină cât şi în greacă (Nero, 7).
În studiile moderne consacrate implicaţiilor bilingvismului latino-grec [24], se face
apel la conceptele de contact şi de interferenţă; primul se referă la contextul spaţial şi
temporal al utilizării celor două limbi, al doilea vizează consecinţele fenomenului istoric al
contactului asupra evoluţiei lor. În legătură cu începuturile contactului latino-grec, părerile
lingviştilor sunt diferite: E.Peruzzi e de părere că primele contacte între greci şi latini ar
data din epoca talasocraţiei miceniene (mileniul al II-lea a.C.) [25]; F.Biville [26] acceptă
în principiu această teorie care urcă mult în timp preistoria contactului latino-grec, faţă de
cronologia acestuia propusă de G.Devoto (secolul al VIII-lea a.C.). [27] În cele ce urmează
93

vom pune pe scurt în discuţie principalele aspecte ale interferenţei, ocazionate de
bilingvismul latino-grec, preluând reperele taxinomice ale lui Fr.Biville.
A. Interferenţa prin relaţionare comportă două variante principale: textuală şi
metalingvistică.
a. Intereferenţa textuală este reprezentată de texte bilingve în care cele două limbi coexistă
independent; noţiunea însăşi de text biling acoperă, în fapt, realităţi diferite: 1) texte
bilingve propriu-zise constând în acelaşi text scris în ambele limbi, precum Res gestae divi
Augusti; 2) glosare bilingve care pun în relaţie cuvinte sau fraze tip, un precedent antic al
ghidurilor de conversaţie; 3) înserarea unor cuvinte şi expresii greceşti în textele latine,
frecventă, cum am menţionat, în corespondenţa lui Cicero.
b. Interferenţa metalingvistică constă în conştientizarea asemănărilor şi deosebirilor dintre
cele două limbi, a limitelor şi lipsurilor sistemului lingvistic latin comparativ cu cel grec.
Lucretius era nemulţumit de "sărăcia limbii strămoşeşti" (patrii sermonis egestas – De
rerum natura, I, 139), care făcea imposibilă exprimarea unor concepte filosofice greceşti;
şi Seneca recunoştea imposibilitatea de a echivala în latină un concept fundamental
exprimat prin grecescul ουσία (ουσία nullo modo Latine exprimare possim – Epistulae ad
Lucilium, 56, 6), cu toate că Cicero propusese calcul essentia.
Ia naştere în urma acestor reflecţii lingvistice precedentul antic al lingvisticii
contrastive, care pune în lumină specificul structural al fiecărei limbi; iată în această
privinţă câteva opinii ale lui Quintilianus [28], edificatoare pentru conştientizarea
diferenţelor frapante între latină şi greacă de către un roman perfect bilingv: "chiar în
privinţa sunetelor limba latină este mai dură, deoarece nouă ne lipsesc cele mai
armonioase litere greceşti, anume o vocală şi o consoană care au cea mai plăcută
sonoritate din alfabetul lor [literele υ şi φ- n.n.]; dar şi accentul nostru atât din cauza
unei anumite rigidităţi, cât şi pentru monotonia lui, este mai puţin plăcut; inferioritatea
limbii noastre se remarcă mai ales prin faptul că foarte multe idei nu au în limba noastră
termeni proprii, încât trebuie să recurgem la metafore şi perifraze. Observaţiile lui
Quintilianus sunt obiective dar nu pesimiste, căci el îşi invită semenii la o adevărată
emulaţie expresivă cu grecii: Nu putem fi atât de delicaţi ca ei; să fim mai viguroşi!
Suntem învinşi în fineţe, să fim mai tari prin gravitate!
B. Interferenţa prin transfer comportă şi ea două importante aspecte:
a. Aportul masiv de elemente aloglote de origine greacă la toate nivelele limbii
latine, cel lexical fiind cel mai privilegiat: se împrumută lexeme care servesc la denotarea
unor concepte şi realităţi străine , fapt mai evident în limbajele specializate şi în limba
populară.[29]
Cele mai vechi elenisme în limba latină datează din epoca preliterară şi, în privinţa
lor, trebuie făcută diferenţa între împrumuturile indirecte şi cele directe: primele au avut
loc în secolul al V-lea prin intermediar etrsuc, comportând trăsături ale limbii etrusce,
precum înlocuirea consoanelor sonore prin surde (θρίαμβος > triumpus; αμόργη
>amurca); [30] împrumuturile directe provin mai ales din coloniile doriene sud-italice din
Graecia Magna şi asupra lor şi-au pus amprenta unele trăsături ale latinei arhaice, precum
apofonia vocalei în silabă post-tonică (μαχανά > machina; καμάρα > camera).
Apariţia primelor opere literare latine, create după model grec, a ocazionat un nou
aport de elenisme care vor suferi o adaptare fonomorfologică în limba latină şi, pentru a le
putea transcrie, apar grafemele y,z şi diagrafele ch, ph, rh, th. O reacţie puristă,
naţionalistă, se va manifesta însă la Roma începând cu sfârşitul secolului al II-lea a.C.,
explicabilă şi prin motive de ordin psihologic: mândria naţională îi oprea pe romani să
imite limba grecilor învinşi (în 146 a.C. Grecia devenise provincie romană); prestigiul
limbii greceşti era diminuat şi de faptul că la Roma, mulţi sclavi elenofoni, prizonieri de
război, exercitau profesiuni prea puţin nobile. Nu se mai doreşte împrumutarea directă a
94

cuvintelor greceşti ci echivalarea lor prin crearea unor calcuri lexicale şi semantice. Cicero
este în secolul I a.C. reprezentantul cel mai de seamă al acestei tendinţe şi lui i se datorează
acele calcuri care s-au impus în limba latină precum qualitas pentru ποιότης, humanitas
pentru φιλανθρωπία, essentia pentru ουσία, veriloquium pentru ετυμολογία.[31]. Cicero a
fost însă un purist rezonabil, întrucât el nu contestă în bloc elenismele, ci doar pe cele care
nu erau necesare; pentru cele necesare şi utile, intrate deja în uzul curent, recomandă
naturalizarea lor în limba latină (nostra ducamus – să le socotim ale noastre).
Epoca Principatului este din nou favorabilă uzului elenismelor, conform declaraţiei
de principiu a lui Quintilianus: confessis quoque Graecis utimur verbis, ubi nostra desunt
(ne folosim de cuvinte curat greceşti, când ne lipsesc ale noastre). [32] Latina epocii
imperiale cunoştea două tipuri de pronunţie a cuvintelor greceşti, care reflectă şi o
stratificare socială a bilingvilor: de o parte pătura superioară, cultă, deprinsese prin
instrucţie o pronunţie fidelă limbii greceşti, de cealaltă parte, straturile sociale, inferioare
adaptaseră pronunţia grecismelor sistemului fonologic latin. Un nou val de elenisme
irumpe în limba latină odată cu penetrarea creştinismului în lumea romană, întrucât
terminologia creştină era greacă la origine. Autorii latini creştini, buni cunoscători ai limbii
greceşti, vor forja un vocabular latin de specialitate, "culegând câte ceva din ambele
limbi", cum afirmă Tertullianus (si quid utriusque linguae praecerpsi) [33], mărturie
relevantă pentru mijloacele lingvistice de care s-au servit autorii creştini: împrumut,
adaptare, resemantizare.
b. Traducerea, ca ipostază a interferenţei prin transfer, a prilejuit confruntarea a
două puncte de vedere: 1.cel al traducerii literale, verbum e verbo, de a cărei imperfecţiune
Cicero era conştient atunci când afirma: perturbationes animi ... Graeci πάθη appelant;
ego poteram morbos et id verbum esset a verbo, sed in consuetudinem nostram non
caderet (grecii numesc πάθη pătimirile sufletului; eu puteam să le numesc morbi şi acest
cuvânt ar fi conform celui grec, doar că nu e conform cu uzul nostru) [34]; 2. cel al
traducerii literare, practicate de Cicero şi recomandate şi de alţi autori latini: traducând
unele discursuri ale lui Demosthenes şi Eschines, Cicero spune că nu a considerat necesar
să traducă cuvânt cu cuvânt, ci să păstreze tonul de ansamblu şi forţa expresivă a cuvintelor
greceşti (non verbum pro verbo necesse habui reddere, sed genus omne verborum vimque
servavi) [35]; Horatius îi recomandă oricărui tânăr autor dramatic să nu se preocupe a reda,
ca traducător fidel, cuvânt cu cuvânt modelul literar grec, dacă vrea să abordeze un subiect
poetic cunoscut (nec verbo verbum curabis reddere fidus/ interpres) [36]; la acest îndemn
horaţian pare să facă aluzie Aulus Gellius, atunci când afirmă: Când este nevoie să se
traducă sau să se imite pasaje mai însemnate din operele poetice greceşti, nu trebuie să ne
străduim întotdeauna, se spune, să redăm cu orice preţ cuvânt cu cuvânt textul original,
căci pierde din eleganţă şi frumuseţe. Sunt anumite construcţii şi expresii care refuză o
astfel de traducere gramaticală. [37]
c. Interferenţa prin fuziune vizează trei tipuri de conexiune lingvistică:
a. Hibridizarea produsă mai ales la nivel lexical, constând fie în crearea unor
derivate de la un cuvânt latin cu sufixe greceşti (fratrissa < lat. frater + sufixul grecesc –
issa pentru formarea unor feminine), fie prin combinarea unor sufixe (-itanus < lat. –anus
+ gr. ίτ);
b. Apariţia unor cuvinte bastarde, numite de lexicografii latini notha verba, prin
"coruperea", adică prin integrarea latină a cuvintelor greceşti (nomen nothum, ex parte
corruptum), precum leo, leonis pentru λέων, λέοντος, Achilles pentru Aχιλλευς [38]. Şi
Varro spune despre aceste cuvinte că şi-au pierdut identitatea, nefiind nici greceşti, nici
latineşti (parum similia videntur esse Graecis ... parum similia nostris). [39]
c. Intersecţia celor două coduri lingvistice, latin şi grec, în baza moştenirii lor
comune, indoeuropene şi a evoluţiei paralele. La nivel lexical e vorba de acele communia
95

nomina, communia verba, cum le numeau lexicografii latini, precum domus/ δόμος; fero/
φέρω; ago/ άγω; ego/ εγώ; tu/ τύ, etc.
În conştiinţa romanilor cele două limbi ajung a fi atât de intim legate încât se
ajunge uneori la a i se atribui unui cuvânt grec o etimologie latină sau invers, ba, lucru şi
mai important, la a se invoca provenienţa latinei din greacă, idee pe care o exprimă
Quintilianus [40], dar care-şi are cel mai probabil originea în mediul grecesc.
Ca o concluzie la această sumară investigaţie a problematicii bilingvismului latinogrec,
vom spune că influenţele lingvistice şi culturale ale elenismului asupra limbii şi
culturii latine nu au dus la o pierdere de identitate a acestora în cursul fenomenului de
aculturaţie şi că fenomenele de contact şi interferenţă mai sus discutate au constituit un
incontestabil factor de progres, profitabil în posteritate pentru cultura şi spiritualitatea
europeană.
Note:
[1] Cicero, De oficiis, I, 1, tr.n.
[2] Idem, Orator, 235
[3] Horatius, Carmina, III, 8, v.5
[4] Ovidius, Ars amatoria, II, vv.123-124, trad.Gr.Tănăsescu în vol. Antologia poeziei latine, Bucureşti, Ed.
Albatros, 1973, p.167
[5] Quintilianus, Institutio oratoria, I, 1, 14
[6] Ibidem, I, 1, 13, tr.n.
[7] A.Meillet, Esquisse d'une histoire de la langue latine, Paris, 1945, pp.108-111
[8] J.Kramer, L'influence du grec sur le latin populaire. Quelques réflexions, "Studii clasice", XVIII,
Bucureşti, Ed.Academiei R.S.R., 1979, p.131.
[9] P.Boyancé, La conaissance du grec à Rome, "R.E.L.", 34, 1956, pp.111-116
[10] P.Grimal, Literatura latină, trad. de Mariana şi Liviu Franga, Bucureşti, Ed.Teora, 1997, p.20
[11] J.Marouzeau, Quelques aspects de la formation du latin litteraire, Paris, 1949, p.133
[12] Cicero, De oratore, II, 154, tr.n.
[13] Apud Plinius Maior, Naturalis historia, XXIX, 7
[14] P.Grimal, op.cit., pp.99-100
[15] Cicero, Brutus, 131
[16] Cornelius Nepos, De viris illustribus, XXV, 4, 1
[17] Quintilianus, op.cit., XI, 2, 50; vide et Valerius Maximus, Memorabilia, III, 7, 6
[18] J.Marouzeau, op.cit., p.175
[19] Cicero, De officiis, I, 3, tr.n.
[20] Cicero, Ad Atticum, I, 20, tr.n.
[21] Suetonius, Caesar, 82, 2
[22] R.Flacelière, Istoria literară a Greciei antice, Bucure ti, Ed.Univers, 1970, p.462.
[23] Iuvenalis, Satirae, VI, vv.191-197, trad. T.Măinescu şi A.Hodoş în vol. Persius, Iuvenal, Marţial, Satire
şi epigrame, Bucureşti, Ed. pentru literatură, 1967, p.126.
[24] James Noel Adams, Bilingualism and the Latin Language, Cambridge University Press, 2003;
M.Dubuisson, Le contact linguistique gréco-romain: problèmes d'interférences et d'emprunts,
"Lalies", 10, 1992, pp.91-109; Fr.Biville, Contacts linguistiques, "Studii clasice", XXVII-
XXXIX, 2001-2003, Bucureşti, Ed. Academiei Române, pp.189-201.
[25] E.Peruzzi, Aspetti culturali del Latio primitivo, Firenze, 1977; idem, I greci e le lingue del Latio
primitivo, Roma, 1978.
[26] Fr.Biville, L'emprunt lexical, un révélateur des structures vivantes des deux langues en contact (le cas
du grec et du latin; "Revue Philologique", 65 (1991), pp.45-58.
[27] G.Devotô, I primi grecismi nella storia della lingua latina, în Mélanges à E.Boisacq, I, 1937, pp.327-
332;
[28] Quintilianus, Institutio oratoria, XII, 10, 27-36, trad. Maria Hetco.
[29] Cf.Fr.Biville, Grec et latin: contacts linguistiques et création lexicale. Pour une typologie des
hellénismes lexicaux du latin, "CILL", 15, 1989, p.1-40.
[30] J. Kramer, op.cit., p.128; G. Devoto, Storia, p.88.
[31] G.Devoto, Storia, p.148.
[32] Quintilianus, op.cit., I, 5, 58, tr.M.Hetco.
[33] Tertullianus, Adversus Praxean, III, 2.
96

[34] Cicero, Tusculanae disputationes, III, 7.
[35] Cicero, De optimo genere oratorum, V, 14.
[36] Horatius, Ars poetica, 133-134.
[37] A.Gellius, Noctes Atticae, IX, 9, 1-2, trad. David Popescu.
[38] Isidorus din Sevilla, Etymologiae, 12, 2, 3.
[39] Varro, De lingua latina, X, 69-71.
[40] Quintilianus, op.cit., I, 1, 58.
Abstract
This paper deals with an essential issue in the making of the European linguistic and conceptual
community, namely, Latin and Greek bilingualism. First acknowledged by the Latin writers’
phrase utrasque lingua, the fusion of Latin and Greek elements was commented upon in modern
exegeses, which refer to the concepts of contact and interference. The former has a historical
dimension, denoting the use of the two languages within a particular spatial and temporal
context, whereas the latter addresses the consequences of this contact for the evolution of the two
languages. We have approached both concepts, but insisted on the latter, drawing on the
taxonomic criteria established by the French linguist Fr. Biville, and further elaborating on the
typology of interference:
A. Relational interference, which is either textual, in bilingual texts, or metalingual, which
reveals the Latin authors’ awareness of the limits and flaws of their linguistic system,
compared to Greek, an attitude that provided the basis for modern contrastive
linguistics;
B. Interference by transfer, which involves an impressive number of Greek loans in Latin
and the translation of Greek texts into Latin;
C. Interference by fusion, manifest in the following three types: hybridization (i.e. Latin
derivatives suffixed on a Greek or a hybrid basis), the coining of hybrid words (by
phonologically and morphologically adapting Greek loans to Latin) and a common stock
of words, by virtue of the Indo-European origin of the two languages.
The linguistic and cultural contact and interference between Greek and Latin contributed not
only to their growth but also to fostering European cultural and spiritual communion.
Résumé
Le travail aborde un problème essentiel pour la création de la communauté linguistique et
conceptuelle européenne, notamment le bilinguisme latin et grec. Reconnue tout d’abord par les
écrivains de langue latine, sous la forme de l’expression utrasque lingua, la fusion entre les
éléments d’origine latine et ceux d’origine grecque, a été longtemps commentée par les exégèses
modernes qui font référence aux concepts de contact et d’interférence. Le premier concept a une
dimension historique, dénotant l’emploi de ces deux langues dans un certain contexte spatial et
temporel, tandis que, le second réfère aux conséquences du concept sur l’évolution des deux
langues. Nous avons attaqué les deux concepts - avec un plus d’attention pour le second – en
tenant compte des critères de classification établis par le linguiste français Fr. Biville et,
élaborant la typologie de l’interférence :
A. L’interférence relationnelle qui peut être soit textuelle, soit métalinguistique dans les
textes bilingues et relève du fait que les auteurs latins connaissaient les limites et les
défauts de leur système linguistique, par comparaison au système grec, attitude qui a
mis les bases de la linguistique contrastive moderne;
B. L’interférence par transfert qui compte un nombre impressionnant d’emprunts grecs
dans le latin et la traduction des textes grecs en latin;
C. L’interférence par fusion, caractérisée par trois types : l’hybridisation (les dérivés latins
obtenus par la suffixation d’une racine grecque ou d’une base hybride), la création des
formations hybrides (par l’adaptation morphologique et phonétique des emprunts grecs
aux caractéristiques de la langue latine) et l’existence d’un fond commun de mots,
résultat de l’origine indo-européenne commune des deux langues.
97

Le contact et l’interférence linguistiques qui caractérisent les langues grecque et latine ont
contribué non seulement à l’enrichissement de ces deux langues mais aussi à l’extension de la
communion spirituelle et culturelle de l’Europe.
Rezumat
Lucrarea abordează o problemă esenţială în crearea comunităţii lingvistice şi
conceptuale europene şi anume, bilingvismul latin şi grecesc. Recunoscută mai întâi de către
scriitorii de limba latină, sub forma expresiei utrasque lingua, fuziunea dintre elementele latineşti
şi cele greceşti a fost comentată în exegeze moderne care fac referire la conceptele de contact şi
interferenţă. Primul are dimensiune istorică, denotând utilizarea celor două limbi într-un anume
context spaţial şi temporal, pe când cel de-al doilea se referă la consecinţele acestui contact
asupra evoluţiei celor două limbi. Am abordat ambele concepte, însă am insistat asupra celui deal
doilea, ţinând cont de criteriile de clasificare stabilite de lingvistul francez Fr. Biville, şi
elaborând tipologia interferenţei:
A. Interferenţa relaţională, care este fie textuală, fie metalingvistică în textele bilingve şi
care relevă faptul că autorii latini erau conştienţi de limitele şi defectele sistemului lor
lingvistic, comparativ cu cel grecesc, atitudine ce a asigurat fundamentul lingvisticii
contrastive moderne;
B. Interferenţa prin transfer, care implică un număr impresionant de împrumuturi greceşti
în limba latină şi traducerea textelor greceşti în limba latină;
C. Interferenţa prin fuziune, manifestă în următoarele trei tipuri: hibridizarea (derivatele
latineşti obţinute prin sufixarea unei rădăcini greceşti or o bază hibridă), crearea unor
formaţiuni hibride (prin adaptarea morfologică şi fonetică a împrumuturilor greceşti la
caracteristicile limbii latine) şi existenţa unui fond comun de cuvinte, ca urmare a
originii indo-europene a celor două limbi.
Contactul şi interferenţa lingvistică caracterizând limbile greacă şi latină au contribuit nu numai
la îmbogăţirea acestor limbi ci şi la extinderea comuniunii spirituale şi culturale europene.
98

Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of GALAŢI
Fascicle XIII. New Series.
Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006
pp. 99 - 106
Language
and
Literature
THE FASCINATION WITH THE WOR(L)D. (RE)PRESENTATION OR
CREATION
Steluţa Stan
Introduction
Before going into the analysis proper of the way in which the metafictional text
articulates, we consider it necessary to mention that, in our opinion there are at least two
types of postmodernism that differ from one another both through organization of the
narrative material and their vision: a playful, self-ironical and parodic postmodernism,
the features of which are narrative discontinuity, open, even ostentatious, display of the
narrative strategies and compositional procedures, parody of the literary conventions
and the challenging of the reader (as in Barth, Pynchon, Vonnegut or Barthelme), and a
second postmodernism, one that Carmen Muşat (2002) labels as imaginative/
anthropocentric, concentrating on the human being, in an attempt at recovering the
symbolic imagination and visions (as in Fowles, Murdoch or Styron).
Heterogeneity being one of the characteristics of postmodernism, most often
than not the two types contaminate each other, so that none of the writers mentioned for
either of the types is unfamiliar with the devices used by their “co-workers” in the other
category. The distinction is necessary only if we consider the dominant of the text, the
author’s preference for one series of devices or the other.
Metafictional novels are the ones to overtly reveal their fictionality and reflect
on their own status and narrative procedures. Within this self-reflective category, Linda
Hutcheon distinguishes between overt, diegetic, metafiction (that takes as main theme
its own status, rules and the very process of narration) and covert, linguistic, metafiction
(that suggests through language games, parody and intertextual references, the inability
of language to function as a means of communication or, even more important than this,
its ability to create other worlds, alternative to and more meaningful than the “real”
one). (Hutcheon, 1980)
This second category of novels, of a bewildering type, unlike the traditional
realistic one, breaks the illusion that what it tells about is an objective reality, truthfully
reflected in language; instead, its purpose is to raise questions and pose problems, to
tease the readers out of their easy acceptance of the traditional and pre-established
modes of thinking, to invite them to take part in the literary game. As the area that
explores the relationship between fiction and reality is concerned, however vigorous the
post-structuralist insistence to see fiction (as well as literature, in general) as a free
game of signifiers with no signifieds, the metafictional novel makes an open invitation
at finding answers for a set of unexpected and startling questions:
Is there a reality ontologically separate and different from our linguistic
consciousness? And if there is, can we know it without altering it by our
knowledge? And if we can, can we ‘render’ it in language? And if we can, does

this rendering correspond to or give a truthful view of that ontologically
different reality that we have assumed to exist? Or are we fooling ourselves in
believing that there is such a reality, when in reality we are locked up in the
prison-house of language, in the reading gaol?
(Kums in Bignami and Patey, 1996: 151)
The borders become even more fluid and obscured due to the juxtaposition of a number
of possible worlds: the real, the fictitious, the fictionalised fictitious and metafiction
itself, all of which seeming to fall on Baudrillard’s four phases of the image.
Ultimately, the central and most relevant issue, intimately and necessarily linked to this
set of questions, remains that of truth.
Factual or fictional
Regarding the distinction between factual and fictional discourse, Peter Lamarque
offers the following solution for the existence or inexistence of reference and truth: we
either admit that the objects in fiction match the existence of objects in the real world,
or consider that the only objects that exist are those of the real world, thus denying any
existence to the ones in fiction. Therefore, the very ground for the distinction between
fictional and factual discourse disappears: “Fiction is whatever is man-made
(conceptually or linguistically). Truth is man-made (conceptually or linguistically).
Therefore, truth is just a species of fiction.” (Lamarque in Nash, 1994: 137)
In an interview, Fowles claims that “all novelists are liars because fiction is the
business of telling falsehoods about people who do not even exist”. (Fowles in
Ciugureanu and Vlad, 1998: 73)
Through lies, stories born sometimes from the desire to embellish a monotonous,
thus boring, reality, another world is born, different from the existing one, the same as
Bagdhad (before the war that brought a sad fame upon it), meant the city of the “one
thousand and one nights”, or, as Barth puts it in Chimera (1972), some fictions were so
much more valuable than fact that in rare instances their beauty made them real.
Bringing to focus the gap between art and life that conventional realism tries to
conceal, metafictional discourse appears in the work of English novelists in the form of
asides (from prefaces and mottoes to direct, authorially intrusive, passages) in novels
primarily concentrated on traditional means of conveying the message, portraying
character and describing action; such passages are considered manipulative as they use
the conventions of realism and, in the same time, acknowledge their artificiality even as
they employ them; they disarm criticism by anticipating it; they flatter the reader
considering them their intellectual equal, a reader sophisticated enough to be familiar
with the conventional fictional representation, the intricacies of weaving a text, and
aware that the work of fiction is a verbal construction rather than a “slice
of life”. As to metafictional writers, Lodge, was saying that they have “a sneaky habit of
incorporating potential criticism into their text and thus ‘fictionalize’ it.” (Lodge,
1992: 208)
From the logical point of view, fictional discourse is defined in terms of zero
denotation[1]: the linguistic constituents that, in factual discourse, have a denotative
function (proper names, deictics, demonstratives…) lack any denotation proper. The
fictional statement has a meaning without having a referent. If we are to think how
much, for example, we care if Ulysses existed or not, we would realize that, beyond the
issue of the presence or absence of the denotation of fiction in the real world, a special
attention deserves the cognitive richness that fiction offers. A statement that lacks
denotation because it is read literally can become true (can denote) if read
100

metaphorically. Don Quixote never existed but his name applies metaphorically to a
certain category of people. Therefore, the intrinsically literary characteristics as well as
the expressive qualities of writing are part of the referential structure of both the
symbolic system and the denotative one: if a piece of writing does not denote because it
is fictional, it does not necessarily lose its referential dimension. With metafiction, what
is non-denoted, but real-ised, is fiction itself. This way, the discussion about the
construction of the text becomes the content proper.
On the other hand, the same as we move in everyday life from a kind of world to
another, fiction allows us free access to different and successive worlds, parallel to the
ones the human being is aware of historically and socially; consequently, the structure
of fiction should be understood as resembling to the one of a ladder on which, more or
less real and more or less fictional worlds define human reality by inter-action and
inter-reflection: “Strangely enough, […] when using the term ‘world’ one is using a
space term […] But narrative fiction calls our attention to time and a sequence in time
[…] Literature is generally to be classed as a time-art (in distinction from painting and
sculpture, space-arts).”(Wellek and Warren, 1993: 147)
As a result, the world of a novel is a structure or a complex organism made up of
a wide range of constitutive elements, combined to create the illusion of reality; this
illusion depends on the effect it has on the reader to be assimilated as the reality of a
work of fiction. It is the task of narratology to analyse these elements and establish the
manner in which they contribute to the presentation of the events.
The wave of metafictional novels in the ‘60s and ‘70s may have lost its force in
the ‘80s, but it did not disappear as its critics, who used to see in this kind of writing just
a futile attempt of the novel at postponing its own death, heralded. Those who attacked
metafiction accused it of “self-flattering narcissism” (a term that Hutcheon transforms
in her 1980 essay in grounds for pride), of elitism (novelists talking to themselves and
to one another about how great and how utterly important their writing practices are), of
narrowness, circularity and repetitivity (resembling dogs chasing their own tail as if it
were the most important thing in the world). From this perspective, metafictional novels
are those in which the epic respiration gives way to the self-annihilating experiment.
Beyond all these accusations lies the assumption that the novel should tell about
people and reality, taking over the tradition of social realism, in a clear message. Thus,
metafiction becomes, to use Barth’s words in a somehow distorted interpretation, a
literature of exhaustion, the last stage before its death. The reaction of rejection towards
this type of literature is also triggered by its labeling, without any further distinctions, as
postmodernist, even deconstructivist. Consequently, the latter’s critics transferred their
accusations upon metafiction: the lack of a final, stable meaning of the text[2], its
refusal of any forms of closure, the ignoring of literary tradition and of the cannon; as in
the case of deconstructivism, the critics of metafiction consider it to “sin” by taking
pleasure in ambiguity and contradiction, by incorporating heterogeneous material
(fantasy, fairytale, documents, fiction, journalism)[3], and this way, erasing the
boundaries between the genres, by incorporating its own criticism and reading
instructions, by toying with the printing conventions etc. In short, the novel (by the
judgment of its dissenters) tends to become an unrecognizable category, downgraded to
a kind of jumbled and jangled text.
Taking out the exaggerations, one cannot ignore such reactions, at least because
they exist, even if coming from conservative positions, resistant to change.
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Mimesis[4] or diegesis[5]
It is true that, although metafiction and deconstructivism are not the same (the latter
being a critical attitude, a practice of approaching any linguistic expression, literature
included), what they have in common is a certain, permanent, self-search and selfquestioning,
and the refusal to accept existing forms and hierarchies as such and for
ever.
Among the critics who embarked upon offering counter-arguments, mention
must be made of Patricia Waugh (Metafiction, 1984), Linda Hutcheon (Narcissistic
Narrative, 1980), Steven Kellman (The Self-Begetting Novel, 1980). They showed that
self-questioning in fiction is not a symptom of exhaustion but a necessary and very
important stage in the development of the analysis, and that the value of metafictional
literature resides exactly in this self-scrutiny, sometimes playful, some other times
painful.
It would be absurd to suppose that metafiction sets as its goal to demonstrate its
own futility and irrelevance; the “message” it carries is, nevertheless, different from that
of the traditional realist novel, because, unlike this one, metafictive writings do not want
to preserve the illusion that they reflect reality objectively and truthfully. However deep
this undermined the fictional conventions, and however confusing the avoidance of the
final meaning, the metafictional novel always has an implicit intention (even explicit
many times): to challenge the reader into giving up their final formulations, and
accepting that posing questions with no easy, even impossible, answers, is beneficial.
As for the question about the possibility to represent the world into the literary fiction,
the metafictional novel has a negative answer: “what can be represented is the discourse
of that”. (Waugh, 1984: 3)
If the novel uses language, either to represent a world or even create it, then it
becomes very clear that the fundamental theme of metafiction is the linguistic paradox:
novelists are permanently confronted with the inability of language to express the
richness of their visions; in consequence, they fight a constant battle with the
limits/prison of language in order to achieve appropriate expressiveness. Despite all
this, by the very means of this language, poor as it may be, they create the most
coherent and spectacular fictional worlds and completely expose their transparency as
“worlds of words”, not worlds haunted by the stubborn and rejecting resistance of
reality:
What is to be acknowledged is that there are two poles of metafiction: one that
finally accepts a substantial real world whose significance is not entirely
composed of relationships within language; and one that suggests that there can
never be an escape from the prison-house of language and either delights or
dispairs in this.
(Waugh, op. cit.: 53)
Here is Lodge’s novelist at a crossroads! In what the British one is concerned, he
chooses, most of the times, the road of the realist novel, the road to the compromise
between the fictional and the empirical modes of writing, although admitting that the
pressure of skepticism on the esthetic and epistemological premises of traditional
realism is so intense that many novelists feel confronted with a choice, the one
mentioned above, between the non-fictional novel and fabulation, as Robert Scholes
names it, giving as examples Günter Grass, William Burroughs, Thomas Pynchon etc.
What Lodge recommends, himself with a leg in the boat of criticism and one in that of
literary creation, is that writers take at least the time of hesitation, or, as many already
102

did, build that hesitation within the écriture itself, to which he attaches the following
label:
[t]he novel-about-itself, the trick-novel, the game-novel, the puzzle-novel, the
novel that leads the reader (who wishes, naїvely, only to be told what to believe)
through a fairground of illusions and deceptions, distorting mirrors and trapdoors
that open disconcertingly under his feet, leaving him ultimately not with
any simple or reassuring message or meaning but with a paradox about the
relation of art to life.
(Lodge, 1971: 105)
Not exactly the same thing happens across the Atlantic. American novelists repeatedly
approach the issue of the words as a unique system for the translation of reality into
fiction in their novels, primarily in the self-reflective ones. The process of the
trespassing of ontological barriers is summarized by Bellerophon in Barth’s Chimera:
“Loosed at last from mortal speech, he turned into written words: Bellerophonic letters
afloat between two worlds, forever betraying, in combinations and re-combinations, the
man they forever represent”. (Barth in Toma, 2004: 80)
This growing fascination with words is part of the similar growing introversion
of the postmodernist novel, being yet another mark of the fact that this one is aware of it
being an invented reality, opposed to the real reality. This attitude towards language, its
use to attract attention upon itself, not upon external reality, expresses, as we could
expect, the refusal of the literature of our times to immortalize the symbols of reality,
the loss of confidence in its stable values and the transformation of this loss into a
supreme faith. Todd Andrews, the barthian character in The Floating Opera (1956),
offers the only possible solution:
So, reader, should you ever find yourself writing about the world, take care not
to nibble at the many tempting symbols she sets squarely in your path, or you’ll
be baited into saying things you don’t mean and offending the people you want
most to entertain. Develop, if you can, the technique of the pall-bearer and
myself: smile, but walk on and say nothing, as though you hadn’t noticed.
(Barth in op. cit.: 85)
The focus on fictionality becomes essential in the attempt to playfully order the
(seemingly) random, the accidental, attach some significance to it or ironically ignore it.
Even if sometimes and only for a while the illusion of reference to the real world is
maintained, the reader is permanently “brutalised” with passages that violate the code of
realism. Lodge mentions in this respect Joseph Heller’s novel Good as Gold (1979),
where one of the numbered chapters begins like this:
Once again Gold found himself preparing to lunch with someone [...] and the
thought arose that he was spending an awful lot of time in this book eating and
talking. [...] Certainly he would soon meet a schoolteacher with four children
with whom he would fall madly in love, and I would shortly hold out to him the
tantalizing promise of becoming the country’s first Jewish Secretary of State, a
promise I did not intend to keep.
(Heller in Lodge, 1992: 42)
The above-mentioned trespassing is achieved in two ways: on the one hand, admitting
that Gold is a character in a book, not someone in the real world; on the other,
103

underlining the fact that he has no autonomy whatsoever, being, simply and completely,
at the disposal of a creator who is not sure what to do with him. About the same thing
happens in Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse Five, an intrusion like “This was I. That was me.
That was the author of this book” being a usual one. Such “gestures” are labelled as
“breaking the frame” or “revealing the device” or, more simply, “metafiction”. By itself,
the procedure is not new at all and similar examples of exposure of the fictionality of
fiction can be easily found in Cervantes, Fielding, Sterne, Thackeray or Trollope, but
not in the modernist ones, because such a foregrounding of the author’s existence, the
very source of diegesis, is contrary to the modernist principle of impersonality and the
mimesis of consciousness. Quite paradoxically, metafictional devices might appear as a
way to continue the exploration and exploitation of the sources of realism,
simultaneously to the admittance of their conventionality.
The more the authors reveal themselves in such texts, the more they become a
voice, function of their own fiction, a rhetorical construct; not privileged authority, but
object to interpretation. A possible conclusion is that postmodernist literature re-affirms
diegesis; not harmoniously interweaved with mimesis (as in the classic realist text), not
subordinate (as in the modernist one), but foregrounded, through contrast, by mimesis:
The stream of consciousness has turned into a stream of narration – which would
be one way of summarizing the difference between the greatest modernist
novelist, Joyce, and the greatest postmodernist, Beckett. When the Unnamable
says to himself, ‘You must go on. I can’t go on. I’ll go on’, he means, on one
level at least, that he must go on narrating.
(Lodge, 1992: 44)
Also in reference to the British writers and their relationship with postmodernism
(especially some of its attributes such as the questioning of metanarrative, the
decentring of cultural authority, and the ironic disruption of the self-contained fictional
world), Dominic Head (2002) agrees that their novels also convey a conviction about
the moral and emotional function of narrative fiction, and its ability to make readers reengage
with the world they know. In this way, the writers offer a re-working of the
realist contract, involving the reader’s willing acceptance that the text provides a bridge
to reality. Much the same as Lodge, Head considers that the British authors are not
postmodernist in the meaning of “experimentalist” only, but their writings should be
viewed as the expression of a mode of writing capable of generating an emotional
response, beyond the distractions of self-conscious trickiness; this understanding of
postmodernism, as a hybrid form of expression that renegociates tradition, is the one
that could make a case for British Postmodernism, and that could account for the work
of practitioners such as Margaret Drabble, Martin Amis, Graham Swift, Peter Ackroyd,
Salman Rushdie, Martin Amis or Angela Carter. As about the metafictional writing, the
self-conscious fiction that underlines its own fictionality, Head says:
This degree of playfullness is self-deprecating in the sense that it has the effect
of devaluing the role and function of ‘literature’. No longer capable of high
seriousness, the literary object colludes in its own debunking, participating in the
cultural logic that blurs the distinction between ‘high’ and ‘low’ culture. The
consequence of this is a culture of pastiche, with no vantage point from which
value can be assigned with authority. [...] It is this kind of ludic postmodernism
that has failed to gain a purchase in British literary culture.
(Head, 2002: 229)
104

A further consequence, in Head’s oppinion, is a “waning of affect”, the production of
self-conscious culture in which powerful emotion can no longer be communicated
without mediation, qualification, or reservation. This kind of ludic postmodernism
seems to have failed to gain a purchase in British literary culture, unlike in the
American one.
Notes
[1] Roland Barthes expresses in Writing Degree Zero (1967) the hope that language can be used in an
utopic way and that there are cultural codes that can be trespassed. At the beginning of the ’70s, he began
to see language, the same as Derrida, as a space the metaphoric character of which remains unknown. In
Empire of Signs (1970), Barthes gives up any claim to describe or analyze reality., mixing cultural forms
of an extreme diversity, from haikus to different machines, pieces of a sort of anti-utopic landscape in
which everything is surface, nothing is form. Writing becomes a goal in itself. In his last text, Barthes by
Barthes, concepts do not count for their validity or invalidity, but for their efficiency as a writing tactic.
[2] The two alternative endings in The French Lieutenant’s Woman are an excellent illustration of the
‘forking paths technique’ that McHale (1987: 106-10) considers to be postmodernist par excellence.
[3] Arguing in favour of the metafictional novel and referring to its connections and affinities with other
genres, Guido Kums says: “It is also evident that these novels all to a greater or lesser extent display this
magpie tendency to collect other genres of writing: they all contain letters, diaries, documents with
political, philosophical or sociological discourse, and they all parody various styles and fashions of
writing.” (Kums in Bignami, 1996: 153)
[4] In the Republic, Plato distinguishes between diegesis (the poet represents the actions in his own voice)
and mimesis (the actions are represented in the voices of the character or characters), and considers that in
the epic genre we meet an alternation of the two discoursive types, the poet’s and the characters’.
Bakhtin, in his turn also makes the distinction between the author’s direct speech – diegesis, the
represented speech of the characters – mimesis, and the double-oriented speech – referring not only to
something that exists in the world but also to the speech act of another charater, neither diegesis nor
mimesis, nor a mixture of the two, but, as Lodge calls it, ‘a sort of pseudo-diegesis’; for example, in the
last episodes of Ulysses, the narrator-author disappears and he is replaced by the voice of the reviews for
women. Lodge’s conclusion is that: the classic realist text is charaterized by a ballanced and harmonious
mixture of diegesis and mimesis, the author’s speech and represented speech; the modern novel, by the
domination of mimesis over diegesis, impersonality and dramatization; the postmodernist novel, by the
re-introduction of the author exiled by the modernists into the text and a revival of diegesis.
[5] In postmodernist fiction, Lodge distinguishes the following categories: transfiction, surfiction,
metafiction, new jurnalism, non-fictional novel, faction, fabulation, le nouveau roman, le nouveau
nouveau roman, irrealism, magic realism etc. In his opinion, the British postmodernism ignores modernist
experiments that “Joyce, Woolf and Co. thought had despatched for good”. (Lodge, 1990: 25)
References
Barthes, R. (1967). Writing Degree Zero, Annette Lavers, Collin Smith (trans.), London: Cape.
Baudrillard, J. (1983). Simulations, Paul Foss et al. (trad.), New York: Semiotext(e).
Bignami, M. & C. Patey (eds.) (1996). Moving the Borders. Milano: Edizioni Unicopli.
Ciugureanu, A. & E. Vlad (1998). Multiple Perspectives, Constanţa: Ex Ponto.
Head, D. (2002). The Cambridge Introduction to Modern British Fiction. 1950-2000, Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press.
Hutcheon, L. (1980). Narcissistic Narrative: The Metafictional Paradox, London: Methuen.
Lodge, D. (1990). After Bakhtin. Essays on Fiction and Criticism, London: Routledge.
Lodge, D. (1992). The Art of Fiction, London: Penguin Books.
Muşat, C. (2002). Strategiile subversiunii. Descriere şi naraţiune în proza postmodernă românească,
Piteşti: Paralela 45.
Nash, Ch. (ed.) (1994). Narrative in Culture, University of Warwick Centre for Research in Philosophy
and Literature, Great Britain: Routledge.
Toma, I. (2004). Uses and Abuses of Tradition in Postmodernist Fiction, Iasi: Premier.
Waugh, P. (1984). Metafiction: The Theory and Practice of Self-Conscious Fiction, New York &
London: Methuen.
Wellek, R. & A. Warren (1993). Theory of Literature. London: Penguin Books.
105

Abstract
Most postmodernist novels ceased to even pretend they believe in the direct mirroring in the
text of a purely linguistic construction of reality. In metafictional writings, the focus is on the
plurality of meaning due to the inherent plurality of language, effect of a plural reality, the
negociation being made between the text and the reader, the (re)producer of meaning.
Fictionalising the world via the media makes the “realistic” attitude of postmodernist writers
presuppose acknowledgment and assumation of the constructed character of reality; thus,
however paradoxical it may seem, postmodernist prose becomes mimetic but in a completely
different way than the realistic prose of the 19 th century.
Résumé
La majorité des romans postmodernistes ne prétendent m me plus qu’ils croient à la mise
directe de la réalité dans le texte, la réalité devenant une construction purement linguistique.
Dans les écritures métafictionnelles, l’accent est mis sur la pluralité de sens due à la pluralité
inhérente à la langue, effet de la pluralité de la réalité. La négociation est faite alors entre le
texte et le lecteur, le (re)créateur du sens. La fictionnalisation du monde par les médias
remoule l’attitude «réaliste» des écrivains postmodernes qui parvient à reconnaître et
assumer le caractère construit de la réalité. La prose postmoderniste devient, de la sorte,
quelque paradoxale que cela puisse paraître, mimétique, mais dans un sens complétement
différent de la prose réaliste du XIXe siècle.
Rezumat
Majoritatea romanelor postmoderniste nici măcar nu se mai prefac că ar crede în oglindirea
directă a realităţii în text, realitatea devenind o construcţie pur lingvistică. În scriiturile
metafic ionale, accentul cade pe pluralitatea înţelesului datorată pluralităţii inerente limbii,
efect al pluralităţii realităţii, iar negocierea se face între text şi cititor, (re)producătorul de
sens. Ficţionalizarea lumii prin mass media face ca atitudinea „realistă“ a scriitorilor
postmoderni să presupună recunoaşterea şi asumarea caracterului construit al realităţii,
proza postmodernistă devenind, oricât de paradoxal ar putea suna, mimetică, dar într-un sens
complet diferit de cel al prozei realiste a secolului al XIX-lea.
106

Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of GALAŢI
Fascicle XIII. New Series.
Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006
pp. 107 - 111
107
Language
and
Literature
WHAT MAISIE KNEW UNDER LINGUISTIC STYLISTIC LENS
Daniela Şorcaru
Henry James significantly contributed to the criticism of fiction, particularly in his
insistence that writers be allowed the greatest freedom possible in presenting their view of
the world. His imaginative use ofpoint of view, interior monologue and possibly unreliable
narrators in his own novels and tales brought a new depth and interest to narrative fiction.
He is one of the major figures of trans-Atlantic literature. His works frequently
juxtapose characters from different worlds – the Old World (Europe), simultaneously
artistic, corrupting, and alluring; and the New World (United States), where people are
often brash, open, and assertive – and explore how this clash of personalities and cultures
affects the two worlds.
James favored internal, psychological drama, and his work is often about conflicts
between imaginative protagonists and their difficult environments.
His earlier work is considered realist because of the carefully described details of
his characters’ physical surroundings. However, throughout his long career, James
maintained a strong interest in a variety of artistic effects and movements. His work
gradually became more metaphorical and symbolic as he entered more deeply into the
minds of his characters. In its intense focus on the consciousness of his major characters,
James’s later work foreshadows extensive developments in 20th century fiction. The prose
of the later works is marked by long, digressive sentences that defer the verb and include
many qualifying adverbs, prepositional phrases, and subordinate clauses as James seeks to
pin down the bifurcating streams of his characters’ consciousness.
Henry James, coming to fiction through an apprenticeship in criticism, brought an
attitude more consciously that of the artist. His restricted personal experience as well as his
special interests imposed upon him a more narrowed range of material and themes. His
great concern became the revelation of thought and emotion, the penetration into the
meaning of human relationships and concerns. More and more he devoted his art to
revealing such fine shades of meaning as completely as possible.
The author relied on the more involved, psychological approach to his fiction in
What Maisie Knew (1897), the story of the sensitive daughter of divorced and irresponsible
parents. The novel has great contemporary relevance as an unflinching account of a wildly
disfunctional family. The book is also a notable technical achievement by James, as it
follows the title character from earliest childhood to precocious maturity.
It’s not surprising from the book’s title that knowledge and education form a major
theme in this bittersweet tale of Maisie’s development. Her keen observation of the
irresponsible behavior of almost all the adults she lives with eventually persuades her to
rely on her most devoted friend, Mrs. Wix, even though the frumpy governess is by far the
least superficially attractive adult in her life.
The common reading of What Maisie Knew is that of a species of bildungsroman,
as the story of Maisie’s emotional and intellectual development at the hands of her
divorced parents, and the subsequent machinations of their various partners and surrogate-

figures, is undoubtedly the core theme of the novel. The realization of such dimensions of
the novel relies heavily on the linguistic devices employed to create a certain message
meant to reach the reader.
Nevertheless, the focus of the present study is laid on the intricate ways of pleating
stylistic functions, analyzing the artful manipulation that James exerts on the language
used in the novel, with a view to discovering the stylistic effects created at text level and
accounting for his being a step closer to the stream-of-consciousness linguistic techniques.
The excerpts taken into consideration for analysis are grouped according to the
purpose of the present study to prove how stylistic functions of the language pleat at the
level of the text in order to create the desired impact on the reader. Another reason behind
the grouping of the text is the need to show how James’s dependence on tradition and the
linguistic cannon already turns into what the stream-of-consciousness represents. He takes
a further step closer to the linguistic and graphological techniques involved in the textual
realization of the trend under discussion.
Text 1. “Miss Overmore considered; she coloured a little; then she embraced her
ingenious friend. ‘You are too sweet! I’m a real governess.’
‘And couldn’t he be a real tutor?’
‘Of course not. He’s ignorant and bad.’
‘Bad – ?’ Maisie echoed with wonder.
Her companion gave a queer little laugh at her tone. ‘He’s ever so much younger –
’ But that was all.
‘Younger than you?’
Miss Overmore laughed again; it was the first time Maisie had seen her approach so
nearly to a giggle. ‘Younger than – no matter whom. I don’t know anything about him and
don’t want to,’ she rather inconsequently added. ‘He’s not my sort, and I’m sure, my own
darling, he’s not yours.’ And she repeated the free caress into which her colloquies with
Maisie almost always broke and which made the child feel that her affection at least was a
gage of safety. Parents had seemed too vague, but governesses were evidently to be
trusted. Maisie’s faith in Mrs. Wix, for instance, had suffered no lapse from the fact that all
communication with her had temporarily dropped.” (James, 1985:59)
Text 2. “‘You must allow me to reply to that,’ cried Mrs. Wix, ‘that you knew
nothing of the sort, and that you rather basely failed to back me up last night when you
pretended so plump that you did! You hoped in fact, exactly as much as I did and as in my
senseless passion I even hope now, that this may be the beginning of better things.’
Oh yes, Mrs. Wix was indeed, for the first time, sharp; so that there at last stirred in
our heroine the sense not so much of being proved disingenuous as of being precisely
accused of the meanness that had brought everything down on her through her very desire
to shake herself clear of it. She suddenly felt herself swell with a passion of protest. ‘I
never, never hoped I wasn’t going again to see Mrs. Beale! I didn’t, I didn’t!’ she repeated.
Mrs. Wix bounced about with the force of rejoinder of which she also felt that she must
anticipate the concussion and which, though the good lady was evidently charged to the
brim, hung fire long enough to give time for an aggravation. ‘She’s beautiful and I love
her! I love her and she’s beautiful!’” (p. 209)
Text 3. “Here again they were delayed by another sharp thought of Mrs. Wix’s
‘But what will she live on meanwhile?’
Maisie stopped short. ‘Till Sir Claude comes?’
108

It was nothing to the violence with which her friend had been arrested. ‘Who’ll pay
the bills?’
Maisie thought. ‘Can’t she?’
‘She? She hasn’t a penny.’
The child wondered. ‘But didn’t papa – ?’
‘Leave her a fortune?’ Mrs. Wix would have appeared to speak of papa as dead had
she not immediately added: ‘Why he lives on other women!’
Oh, yes, Maisie remembered. ‘Then can’t he send – ?’ She faltered again; even to
herself it sounded queer.
‘Some of their money to his wife?’ Mrs. Wix gave a laugh still stranger than the
weird suggestion. ‘I daresay she’d take it!’
They hurried on again; yet again, on the stairs, Maisie pulled up. ‘Well, if she had
stopped in England – !’ she threw out.
Mrs. Wix considered. ‘And he had come over instead?’
‘Yes, as we expected.’ Maisie launched her speculation. ‘What, then, would she
have lived on?’
Mrs. Wix hung fire but an instant. ‘On other men!’ And she marched downstairs.”
(p. 224)
The first group of three texts considered may be regarded as displaying the highest
degree of James’s traditional dimension, although stream-of-consciousness techniques
already ‘sabotage’ the text, in that the stylistic pleating of functions hinders meaning
recovery on the part of the reader at times.
Most of the vocabulary is formal, but intrusions of the consultative and the
informal, corresponding to everyday conversation register especially in Masie’s lines and
her interlocutors’, when engaged in speaking to the child. Thus, until is replaced by till and
contracted forms work their way in the body of the formal text, e.g. I’m, couldn’t, He’s,
don’t (Text 1); wasn’t, didn’t, She’s (Text 2); Who’ll pay the bills? (Text 3).
The nouns in the texts reveal a subtle stylistic play upon the real world and the
inner world of human thought and mind. In our case, the former is employed so as to
identify Maisie’s relationships to other people and their place in her life, whereas the latter
displays a rich array of needs, sensations, feelings and experiences that the child
undergoes: friend, governess, tutor, wonder, companion, laugh, tone, giggle, caress,
colloquies, child, affection, safety, gage, Parents, governesses, faith, lapse, fact,
communication (Text 1); night, passion, things, heroine, sense, meanness, desire, protest,
force, concussion, lady, brim, aggravation (Text 2); thought, violence, friend, bills, penny,
child, papa, fortune, women, money, laugh, suggestion, stairs, speculation (Text 3).
Along the same line of opposing inner universe to reality, the adjectives in the
texts, apparently dominated by the graphologically marked real, are use to qualify parts of
the child’s world as opposed to pieces of the real one, e.g. ingenious, sweet, real, ignorant,
bad, queer, little, younger, free, vague (Text 1); senseless, better, sharp, disingenuous,
swell, good, beautiful (Text 2); sharp, dead, queer, stranger, weird (Text 3). The obvious
repetition of the synonymic series queer, stranger, weird may stylistically signal the
child’s confusion about matters in the real world and her trying to grasp how things work.
Moreover, the abundance of adverbs, either making up superlative degrees or
setting space and time boundaries for actions, also serve the stylistic purpose of rendering
the Maisie’s attempts to make sense of the real world, e.g. too, so much, ever, again,
inconsequently, almost always, evidently, temporarily (Text 1); so, even, so much,
precisely, very, never, again, evidently (Text 2); again, immediately (Text 3).
109

The great number of verbs in the excerpts enhances the dynamic dimension of
discourse, while also corresponding to the pattern of human speech, which makes up most
of the body of the texts, e.g. considered, coloured, embraced, are, I’m, couldn’t he be,
echoed, gave, was, laughed, had seen, approach, don’t know, don’t want, added, repeated,
broke, made, feel, had seemed, were, to be, had suffered, had temporarily dropped (Text
1); must, allow, to reply, knew, failed, to back me up, pretended, did, hoped, may be, was,
stirred, had brought, to shake, felt, wasn’t going, to see, didn’t, repeated, bounced,
anticipate, to give (Text 2); were, live, stopped, comes, was, had been arrested, pay,
thought, Can’t, hasn’t, wondered, Leave, would have appeared, to speak, had she not
immediately added, lives, remembered, can’t he send, faltered, sounded, hurried, pulled
up, threw, expected, launched, hung, marched (Text 3). Thus, James takes a step further in
depicting human behaviour as speech and thought.
The sentence structure also observes the rules of human speech, i.e. the sentences
are short, simple sentences most often. A clear distinction is imposed, as the authorial
intrusions are marked by longer simple, compound or complex sentences.
Furthermore, the human speech dimension of discourse is even better rendered by
the elliptical sentences that seem to have suddenly been cut off, as interlocutors often break
communication all of a sudden or are interrupted abruptly, e.g. ‘Of course not. He’s
ignorant and bad.’ ‘Bad – ?’ Maisie echoed with wonder. Her companion gave a queer
little laugh at her tone. ‘He’s ever so much younger – ’ But that was all. (Text 1); The
child wondered. ‘But didn’t papa – ?’ ‘Then can’t he send – ?’ She faltered again; even to
herself it sounded queer. ‘Well, if she had stopped in England – !’ she threw out. (Text 3).
The disruptions register at a further graphological level, considering the choice of
the author to write the three words in italics in the three fragments analyzed, e.g real,
never, she. The option of the author in the contexts the words in italics are used is meant to
emphasize the importance of the entity or concept in the narrative thread.
Thus, much like Forster but taking a step closer to the stream-of-consciousness,
James’s discourse displays the same linguistic battle between tradition and the cannon, on
the one side, and the desire to set language free from any constraints.
Disruptions of traditional discourse are more obvious with James at various levels of
the text. Thus, the formal register is at times (violently) interrupted by intrusions of the
informal up to the colloquial vocabulary, even insults.
Moreover, the traditional long, well-formed sentences alternate with short, sometimes
abruptly cut off simple sentences, which struggle to render human thought and speech.
Graphological disruptions are not to be neglected either, as there are numerous
instances of graphic emphasis achieved by the author’s use of italics for specific words that
play an important role in the context or that may help render the intonation of everyday
speech.
Last but definitely not least, James’s use of barbarisms and of what we dare call
‘erudisms’, i.e. larger fragments encoded in foreign languages that disrupt the body of the
English text, anticipates the complex Joycean encoding. The numerous texts in various
foreign languages to be found in Joyce’s discourse represent the linguistic climax of
selecting readership according to the knowledge they possess.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Avădanei, Şt., Teaching (Literature) as a Literary Genre, “University English”, no.2, 1995.
Bantaş, A., Descriptive English Syntax, Institutul European, Iaşi, 1996.
Barry, P., Beginning Theory. An Introduction to Literary and Cultural Theory, Manchester University Press,
Manchester and New York, 1995.
Brooker, P. (ed), Modernism/Postmodernism, Longman, London and New York, 1992.
Creţescu-Gogălniceanu, C., The Negotiator, Institutul European, Terra Design, Iaşi, 2001.
110

Croft, S., Cross, H., Literature, Criticism and Style – A Practical Guide to Advanced English Literature,
Oxford University Press, Oxford, 1997.
Crystal, D., The Cambridge Encyclopedia of Language, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 1996.
Ducrot, O., Schaeffer, J.-M., Noul dicţionar enciclopedic al ştiinţelor limbajului, Editura Babel, Bucureşti,
1996.
James, H., What Maisie Knew, Penguin Books, London, 1985.
Leech, G., M. Short, Style in Fiction, Longman, London and New York, 1990, eighth impression.
Praisler, M., On Modernism, Postmodernism and the Novel, Ed. Didactică şi Pedagogică, Bucureşti, 2005.
Sandig, B., Selting, M., Discourse Styles, in “Discourse as Structure and Process”, vol. I, SAGE Publications,
London, 1998.
Wales, K., A Dictionary of Stylistics, Longman, London and New York, 1991, second impression.
Abstract
The essence of this approach finds itself in the complex ways of putting together the stylistic
functions investigating the artistic manipulation by means of which Henry James influences the
language he makes use of in this novel, trying to discover the stylistic effects created at the text
level and to consider which of these ways is the closest to the stream-of-consciousness technique.
The fragments which were selected for analysis are grouped according to the aim of this
approach, i.e., to reveal the assembling procedures of the language stylistic functions at text level
in order to create a certain impact on the reader. The excerpts structuring is also accounted for
by the necessity of showing how James’s depending upon the tradition of the linguistic canon has
already become the essence of the stream-of-consciousness technique. One more step need to be
taken to get closer to the graphic and linguistic techniques involved in the technical achievement
of the trend in discussion.
Resumé
Le noyau de cette étude-ci est représenté des modalités complexes d’assembler les fonctions
stylistiques, en analysant la manipulation artistique avec laquelle Henry James influence le
langage utilisé dans le roman, en essayant de découvrir les effets stylistiques créés au niveau du
texte, et de considérer qu’il est plus proche des techniques linguistiques du « stream-ofconsciousness
». Les fragments choisis pour l’analyse sont groupés en conformité avec le but de
cette étude-ci pour démontrer la modalité d’assemblage des fonctions stylistiques du langage au
niveau du texte, pour créer l’impact désiré avec le lecteur. Un autre motive justifiant le groupage
du texte est le besoin de montrer comme la dépendance de James de la tradition et du canon
linguistique se transforme déjà en l’essence du « stream-of-consciousness ». Il fait encore un pas
pour s’approcher aux techniques linguistiques et graphologiques impliquées dans la réalisation
technique du courant en discussion.
Rezumat
Acest studiu are ca element esenţial analizarea complexelor modalităţi de asambalre a funcţiilor
stilistice, analizând manipularea artistică prin care Henry James influenţează limba folsită în
roman, încercând să descopere efecte stilistice create la nivelul textului. Fragmentele selectate
pentru analiză sunt grupate conform obiectivelor prezentului studiu, pentru a crea impactul dorit
asupra cititorului. Un alt motiv care justifică gruparea propusă a textelor îl constituie nevoia de
a descrie maniera în care dependenţa lui James de tradiţie şi de canonul lingvistic se transformă
deja în esenţa tehnicii curentului de conştiinţă. Nu mai este nevoie decât de un pas pentru ca
autorul să se apropie de tehnicile lingvistice şi grafice implicate în realizarea tehnicii curentului
în discuţie.
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Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of GALAŢI
Fascicle XIII. New Series.
Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006
pp. 112 - 118
SINCERITY: TEXTUAL CLAIMS TO VALIDATION
Daniela Ţuchel
112
Language
and
Literature
Sincerity emerges in modernity as a moral quality in which the avoidance of
dissembling is a positive virtue associated with plain speaking. Sincerity is congruence
between avowal and actual feeling or a number of other definitions [1], ranging from a
mere trustworthiness claim to the mapping of text onto thoughts. A possible framing of the
whole issue is the interior state of S (the abbreviation to be read further down as
sender/speaker of a message) matching an outward textual form to be decoded by R (the
abbreviation henceforth for recipient/reader of the encoded message). Problems connected
with the not-exactly-linguistic notion of sincerity (except for pragmatic areas) are of a
diverse nature.
Sincerity is more easily discussed in public discourse, being based on solid textual
evidence. For ordinary verbal intercourse, it is ungraspable, unless paralinguistic factors
contribute to guesswork in this respect. For the text of newspaper articles, there are
additional difficulties of diagnosis, unless we pick on some more special manifestations,
such as, let us say, scare-quotes. As for who they are intended to scare, an example will
suffice: “[...] explicit, analytical, retrievable and ‘scientific’ procedures”. If they are
intentional and strategically placed, the single quotes around one particular attribute will
cast doubt on the truthful content thus marked off, and one can even suspect irony.
Actually, when a writer disagrees, (s)he should stand by what they write and be sincere
with no need for words in quotation marks, except the convention to underline by means
of them.
In prose literature, the printed word amounts to nothing more than a mimetic
illusion of speech and thought. Biber and Finegan [2] state that they have chosen to
exclude third person reference when analysing affective language to convey the emotion at
hand. They claim the third person presentation is primarily descriptive rather than directly
expressive of the speaker’s own feelings. It seems, however, reasonable to avoid making
such a distinction with prose literature, as all the utterances or thoughts of the characters,
be they presented in first or third person, are an artifice, an expression of the author’s
‘intent’, not that of the character at hand.
Maybe it is not misplaced to attempt a precis of more recent research on sincerity
values in literary or non-literary communication. The co-authors cited above have studied
the lexical and grammatical marking of two concepts: evidentiality and affect. By the
former term, they refer to a speaker’s attitude to knowledge and its reliability. They use
the latter term in the same way as in another co-authored study of the same year [3], which
makes a powerful plea for the emotive force of language, without offering, however, a
model of application. Affect - Ochs and Schieffelin explain - is broader in meaning than
emotion. Affect includes feelings, moods, dispositions and attitudes with persons or
situations. The authors are mainly concerned with the display of affect through linguistic
means, preferring not to take into account whether the affective expression is sincere or

not. Their main thesis entails an argument that “almost any aspect of the linguistic system
that is variable is a candidate for expressing affect: in other words, language has a heart as
well as a mind of its own” [ibidem].
The kind of performance that will be credited as sincere is generally assessed as such
or as its opposite by some common-sense criteria that cannot also perform linguistic work.
It is only for pragmatics to say that (a) an utterance can be deemed valid or invalid, and (b)
validity will be judged in terms of three claims: (1) truth; (2) appropriateness; (3) sincerity.
At this point, in the relation between S and R, one takes into account the display of
trustworthiness. Claims to sincerity are the most difficult to guarantee since they implicate
a match between the outward form of the utterance and the speaker’s interior state.
Habermas [4] comments that truth and appropriateness may be validated implicitly
or explicitly by negotiation through discursive activity, while sincerity has to be taken on
trust – it is vindicated or validated only by the subsequent behaviour of S.
Halliday [5] continues Habermas’s distinctions, and, by combining the findings of
both linguists, here is a summary model of how the conduct of reason in social life
functions towards communication. Inside we can see the way sincerity fits.
1) Domain of reality: external nature; mode of communication: cognitive;
validity claim: truth; general function: representation of facts.
2) Domain of reality: social world; mode of communication: interactive;
validity claim: appropriateness / felicity; general function: establishment and maintenance
of relations.
3) Domain of reality: world of intentions; mode of communication:
expressive; validity claim: sincerity; general function: disclosure of speaker subjectivity.
Achieving a relation to speech acts, the result is that representatives (for instance,
asserting, denying, concluding) foreground the claim to truth; directives (suggesting,
demanding, requesting) and declaratives, which effect immediate changes in institutional
states-of-affairs (excommunicating, christening, passing sentence), foreground the claim to
appropriateness; commissives, which commit the speaker to some future course of action
(promising, offering, threatening), and expressives, which express a psychological state
(apologizing, thanking, welcoming), will implicate most strongly the claim to sincerity.
In Goffman’s terms [6], there is a participation framework of a complex nature,
meaning that S in each particular case speaks at moments for others (in particular, for an
audience) as well as for himself or herself. S adopts a shifting mode of address. For
example, a politician speaks most of the time to the nation, even to the world beyond, and
sometimes to reporters, etc. Any straightforward statement of emotion by S is likely to put
sincerity at risk. It is perhaps interesting to mention the following case in fiction that, to
some, may approximate sincerity: there is no controlling voice, there is an withholding of
textual manifestations of a full authorial persona. Thus, the author exploits the separation
of the discourse worlds while he himself refrains from creating the illusion of cooperative
presence. Sometimes it is easier for a text interpreter R to focus on the cognitive process of
reading a fictional text as part of a language event rather than focusing exclusively on the
ontological status of the fictional world constructed in reading.
It is also generally accepted that some genres lend themselves to a discussion about
their sincerity content, while others do not. Some genres also lend a high valency to
sincerity and others do not. Researchers interested in radio shows, television and theatre
apprehend the sincerity paradox when discussing the following situation: if a person’s
behaviour is perceived by others as performance, it will be judged to be insincere, for
sincerity presupposes, as its general condition, the absence of performance. Laboratory
reports and legal cross-examinations will not routinely implicate sincerity, but the
exchange of vows in a wedding ceremony does. Joking is a genre unlikely to be judged as
113

sincere, but a eulogy may be. Ultimately, there must be common-sense, in all probability,
used as a recognizable criterion for the kind of performance that will be credited as
sincere.
Irony is a hard nut to crack for the present thematic concern, for it relies on an
apprehension of the indirect criticism which is indeed expected to be transmitted in
sincerity. Sperber and Wilson [7] come with the following example of ironic
manifestation: in a shop, a furious customer is observed as such and commented upon –
you can tell he’s upset, says a bystander. Sperber and Wilson take this to be
understatement as a type of irony, and we remember that the definition of understatement
is to say less than is reasonable in the given situation of communication. We can claim that
the definition applies here, for the anger is strikingly obvious; the commentary beginning
with you can tell is, in a way, naively inadequate, but it is more interesting pragmatically
to maintain that it is an ironic use of understatement. If S assigned the utterance you can
tell that X to a situation when normally the signs of X are barely discernible, S would
sooner be interpreted as speaking literally. Thus, in the former case of problem-solving, S
is covertly disagreeing, and, in the latter case, S is openly and sincerely involved in a
literal communicative act.
Two felt experiences, motivation and intention, are, as a rule, anticipated to be
sincere. The dictionary entry ‘intenţie’ (lat. intentio) elaborated by Mihai Stroe in Pîrvu [8]
defines this basic concept for dealing with sincerity as a semantic and ontologic vector
relating to the feature ‘whatever is directed to something’ and coins the Romanian term
despreitate (a derivation of the preposition ‘despre’). After reviewing the major landmarks
in a theolological-intentionalist theory threading its way through (to quote only a few)
Anaxagoras, Empedocles, Boethius, Avicenna, Bacon, Descartes, Newton, Darwin, Kant,
Blake, Hegel, Bergson, Mihai Stroe stops upon the American New Criticism,
recommending the technique of ‘close reading’. Thus the intentional fallacy can be
circumvented; it is erroneous to judge a literary work according to the author’s intention as
long as nothing is relevant but the work itself. The work belongs to the public (Wimsatt,
Beardsley, ibidem) and it is only through it that the public can assess authorial intentions.
It is fundamental, in this undertaking, to distinguish between an original meaning of the
text and an anachronistic meaning – subsequent interpretation projected onto the text
through historical distancing.
If we take emotion to be public and feeling to be private, then the latter term –
feeling – can be explained as bodily arousal in the consciousness of the speaker, whereas
the former – emotion – can be looked upon as the correlation between the bodily arousal
and the circumstance or situation. Emotions, in their turn, will be subdivided into primary
ones (they are innate) and secondary (socially constituted through cultural resources). The
expression of emotions needs happen in sincerity as long as emotions are inferential signs
with a major role in cognition.
Following psychological practice, emotions and evaluations have the status of
affect and are construals of experience on various scales of positive and negative values. At
least evaluation always sets up an opposition in this respect: cases may be good or bad,
desirable or undesirable, loveable or hateful. As Burke [9] writes, negation is “a peculiarly
linguistic marvel” as “there are no negatives in nature”. To evaluate anything positively
involves the exclusion of the possibility that what does not exit might exist and vice versa.
Negation is not only a matter of form, it is an evaluative, epistemic and deontic action,
forbidding, stipulating, affirming or denying. The negated is in a dialectical relation to
what is asserted. Negation brings up the rejected opposite, the irrealis, the mere possibility
of the other. This possibility is felt, and the more intense the affect, the stronger the
negated alternative. Let us approach sincerity in a few subtle attitudinal biases. We say, for
114

example, it is pretty bad, which does not imply that something is good, but it is a weaker
claim than it is very bad. We say it is not too bad, which does imply that the object
described is at the good end of the polarity scale. It understates, at the same time, an
impolite belief: “I anticipated that what you did would be bad”. Honesty or sincerity lies in
understating things or generating the figure of speech known as litotes, the reason for its
occurrence in speech ultimately being understood by R to be a mild variant of praise
(politeness) or a covert form of unfavourable opinion derived by implicature
(impoliteness). Disambiguation of what is essentially and sincerely communicated is
worked out by the exophoric details of the situation. S would have had at his disposal the
possibility of not underplaying meanings while saying it is good enough, where only a
concessive attitude is contained and no indirect hurt. This is what is effected pragmatically
when the negatively evaluative adverb too gets replaced by the positively evaluative
adverb enough.
Conversational routine usually carries out phatic intentions with the avoidance of
embarrassment; there are certain expectations of participants, but sincerity is not the most
pressing problem. Let us exemplify with the following case: the opener How are you? (or
any other alternative cliche, Is everything all right? How’s life? etc.) may reflect genuine
interest if and only if supported by some other elements, for instance, insistence to find out
more. It seems that, unlike the common English expression, the Romanian ce mai faci
easily triggers a response that is a description of the addressee’s momentary condition. A
close relationship even requires more than a positive short answer [10] and the story of the
addressee’s latest mishap expects consolation as an expression of social harmony.
At the same time, a negative response to the opening question can be expressed by
inarticulate sounds or by gestures. For example, one may hear a prolonged /m/ sound in a
falling tone, with a shrug of shoulders, a double rock of the dominant hand, a slight roll of
the eyes. This could be received in the place of a (moderately) negative answer in words.
One possible interpretation is that the addressee does not want to complain but also needs
to be sincere about not being very well.
Laughter is another type of response that is contextually interpretable as sincerity or
its opposite. A variety of social occasions for its occurrence can be described as the end of
self-disclosing and painful stories, funny or idiotic moments in a talk, surprise and
amusement during an utterance, and so on. Laughter may result in the maintenance of a
collaborative floor and it usually signals sincere and active participation, continual
involvement, while not committing the addressees to speak in their turn.
One of the speech acts to pre-condition sincerity with priority is complimenting the
interlocutor. Broadly defined, a compliment is an expression of praise or positive regard.
There have been studies to research the following aspects: the most frequent syntactic
patterns; the attributes praised more insistently; the most appropriate verbal responses to
compliments; the relationship between the giver and the recipient of the compliment;
similarities and differences in this respect across cultures and continents. Let us sum up the
findings for each aspect.
Compliments generally fall into one of the following three patterns: Noun Phrase +
is/looks + Adjectival Phrase (e.g. Your essay is great), I + like/love + Noun Phrase (e.g. I
love your haircut), Pronominal form + is + Modifier + Noun Phrase (e.g. These are
delicious cookies). Socialites prefer to compliment physical appearance and abilities first,
work and study next, and the form they adopt can lead to a classification of compliments
into: (a) direct vs. indirect, (b) specific vs. general, (c) normal vs. amplified lengths, (d)
including a comparison vs. no comparison. As for the last mentioned point, it has been
noted that comparisons are preferably exchanged between individuals of the same sex and
in a close, rather than distant, relationship. Another important observation is that there is a
115

tendency to give appreciation to those details of personal appearance that are the result of
deliberate effort, not simply a manifestation of natural attractiveness. Besides, this is
particularly the case when females compliment other females. Males tend to compliment
more on personality traits, some of which being loyalty, kindness, intelligence. Precisely
due to a possible interpretation of insincerity, it has been found that by repeatedly
complimenting someone in an attempt to be friendly, S may trigger the unwanted effect of
discomfort and withdrawal of the person complimented. In case sincerity in the
complimenter acquires validity in the eyes of R, the latter can adopt one of the following
strategies: thanking and agreeing; thanking and returning the compliment; joking; doubting
the praiseworthiness; denigrating the object of praise; merely commenting on the history of
the object; no acknowledgement (shifting the topic or no response), etc.
As a rule, complimenting is a positive politeness strategy. It answers the
expectation of being complimented when the person has made efforts to improve
appearance, performance of some sort or to obtain a new possession. That person may feel
disappointed, even upset, if this is not taken into account or merely noticed, so as to
become a complimentee. Actually, the complimentee seems to be ‘forced’, in the social
comedy that is being played, to accept the favour of the compliment and to express
gratitude, since a rejection of it (although a possible strategy when performed
‘insincerely’) runs counter to the positive face of the complimenter. This is an interesting
conclusion. “Although seemingly beneficial to the complimentee, complimenting
potentially threatens the complimentee’s face. The compliment obliges her/him to repay
the debt in some way” [11]. The indebting nature of compliments is discussed by many
researchers, including Brown and Levinson, because the analysed speech act, if sincere,
expresses envy or admiration, thus indicating that the compliment-payer likes or would
like something belonging to the compliment-recipient/R. As a result, the latter takes action
either to protect the object of the praise or to offer it to the complimenter/S (for instance,
Arabic interlocutors make a ritual out of the offering of thecomplimented object and do not
literally take the object).
It often happens (in any speech community) that participants engage - with
sincerity or fake sincerity - in a remedial verbal action upon committing an offence, in a
word, to apologize. Speech communities differ in what counts as an offence, then in the
severity of the same offensive event, and afterwards in the appropriate compensation.
Apologies are carried out by a set of strategies, like every other type of verbal interaction.
To ‘make it go away’, S can either offer an explicit apology and/or assume responsibility,
first and foremost. Besides, the apologetic person can upgrade the force of the speech act,
downgrade the severity of the offence, downgrade his own responsibility, offer repair, and
so on. R will rightly ask themselves whether all such is uttered with sincerity of feeling.
Maybe some context-internal factors can decide upon its presence or lack. There is a direct
way of influencing – with these factors – the choice of the apologetic formula, its
intensification and its occurrence into one of two patterns: apology + account and apology
+ offer of compensation. The decisive context-external factors are social power and social
distance. Correlations can be established in the following ways: (a) the lower the
offender’s status, the more he will feel inclined to apologize to the offended with an
explicit formula; (b) the closer the interlocutors, the more likely the offender will expressly
assume responsibility. The conformity to these social regulations of behaviour can pass for
sincerity in the relationship.
Cross-culturally, distinctions are numerous and baffling sometimes, such as in the
case of ‘contrary-to-face-value’ messages. Understanding grows in importance when what
S says does not prize face-value sincerity, but H’s ability to read between the lines or
decode the message from a holistic, context-based perspective. The contributions that are
116

contrary-to-face-value are looked into by pragmaticists for an inner motivation: to say “no”
instead of “yes” for avoiding another person’s disadvantage (an other-service answer)
while simultaneously maintaining a desirable good rapport (the self-service).
To discuss, therefore, self-serving and other-serving as related to ‘face’ is a practice
of sincerity because those two categories are not mutually exclusive. For the sake of
illustration, we can build up the situation of communication in which N. offers a ride to M.
when it is raining and M. does not have a car; M. definitely needs the ride, but replies by
saying, No, thanks, I don’t want to be too much trouble. If M. speaks haltingly or
undecidedly, N. will know that he should not take the words literally and that the negative
answer is a way of being considerate. The following situation is worth looking into: during
a dinner party, the guests kept complimenting the hostess for the food served, but the
response was the ‘no’ type (Oh, no, the dishes were not so well-prepared). It was plain that
she wanted to make the guests feel comfortable and to avoid throwing light upon the long
hours spent while preparing the meal. Both the situations described above are of the type
saying ‘no’ for ‘yes’ and other-serving.
Saying ‘yes’ for ‘no’ and other-serving (or, instead of the affirmative particle, headnodding
will do) illustrates the fact the communicators are harmony-oriented and avoid
confrontation. An easy way to distinguish an authentic ‘yes’ from a fake one is the
observation of the level of enthusiasm manifested by S.
When ‘no’ for ‘yes’ and self-serving is the case, it will be received as a lie. The
utterance is contrary to the truth in order to avoid punishment (The drunk said, No, I didn’t
knock the window to pieces). In the following situation ‘yes’ is for ‘no’ and self-serving: a
man in order to increase his credibility lies to his partners that he is going to an important
meeting, but he is not invited to any such event. Thus, this is a simple deceptive
communicative act, strategically misleading in a conscious way.
In sum, contrary-to-face-value communication is strategic and manipulative, while there
are cultural practices for decoding the message in the right, ‘sincere’ (that is, truthful) way.
It is a matter of communication competence and it takes an insider’s perspective on
contextual clues.
Face-saving manoeuvres accommodate a number of speech acts, not only those under
scrutiny here, and possibly some involving lengthy negotiations, in which partners develop
an interest in the presence of sincerity. Ultimately, though Searle himself states that there is
no sincerity requirement for greetings, for instance, even those have been found to exhibit
both sincere and insincere attitudes. Grice’s whole theory has been built on a notion of
‘benevolence’, so maybe it is too much to expect absolute sincerity as well. Against the
risks of idealization, it can be enough to say that the major concern should be the
possibility of everyone, Ss and Rs, to cooperate linguistically and nothing more.
At present, the methodologies of cross-fertilizing disciplines of study [12] have
opened the way to the tolerant ‘dialoguing’ between authors and their commentators,
exploring aspects of life, language and literature, where a sincere positioning is expected.
Sincere communicators, ultimately, resist the temptation to resolve differences between
them artificially. The diversity of positions helps identify tensions which can be negotiated
without impinging upon sincerity.
REFERENCES
[1] Ţuchel, D. (2004). Pragmatics Primer. Bucureşti: Editura Didactică şi Pedagogică R.A., p. 21.
[2] Biber, D. and Finegan, E. (1989). “Styles of Stance in English: Lexical and Grammatical Marking of
Evidentiality and Affect”. Text. 9 / 1 (pp. 93-124).
[3] Ochs, E. and Schieffelin, B. (1989). “Language Has a Heart”. Text. 9 / 1 (pp. 7-25).
117

[4] Habermas, J. (1979). “Universal Pragmatics”. J.Habermas (ed.) Communication and the Evolution of
Society. Boston, MA: Beacon Press (pp. 1-68).
[5] Halliday, M.A.K. (1985). An Introduction to Functional Grammar. London: Edward Arnold.
[6] Goffman, E. (1981). Forms of Talk. Oxford: Basil Blackwell.
[7] Sperber, D. and Wilson, D. (1986). Relevance: Communication and Cognition. Oxford: Blackwell.
[8] Pîrvu, B.S. (2005). Dicţionar de genetică literară. Iaşi: Institutul European (pp. 111-117).
[9] Burke, K. (1961). The Rhetoric of Religion. Boston MA: Beacon Press (p.19).
[10] Pietreanu, M. (1984). Salutul în limba română. Bucureşti: Editura Ştiinţifică şi Enciclopedică.
[11] Chen, R. (1993). “Responding to compliments”. Journal of Pragmatics. 20 (58).
[12] Bamberg, M. and Andrews, M. (2004). Considering Counter-Narratives. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John
Benjamins Publishing Company.
Abstract
A definition of sincerity as a claim to trustworthiness simultaneously involves a correct
match of outward form and interior state of the speaker. There is a broad
correspondence, which will be discussed and illustrated, between sincerity and a
number of speech acts, as well as between sincerity and discourse types.
Résumé
La sincérité peut être définie comme un rapport de confiance entre l’émetteur et le
récepteur. En même temps, il faut réaliser une concordance aussi juste que possible
entre la forme de l’expression et la condition emotionnelle de l’émetteur. Le sujet de cet
article est la sincérité de certains actes de langage et celle de certains types de
discours.
Rezumat
Dacă se defineşte sinceritatea ca un raport de încredere între emiţător şi receptor,
concomitent se face trimitere la o corelare justă între forma de exprimare şi starea
emoţională a emiţătorului. Discuţia în articolul de faţă şi exemplele invocate vizează
sinceritatea anumitor acte de vorbire şi a anumitor tipuri de discurs.
118

Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of GALAŢI
Fascicle XIII. New Series.
Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006
pp. 119 - 123
119
Language
and
Literature
LA CONFIGURATION DE L’UNIVERS TEXTUEL : COHERENCE ET
COHESION
Angelica Vâlcu
La cohérence textuelle constitue un objet d’étude fondamental dans la linguistique
textuelle. Notre communication a pour objectif l’analyse de divers aspects concernant
l’organisation et de la structuration interne d’un texte par le biais des moyens linguistiques
et discursifs spécifiques à la cohésion et à la cohérence textuelles. Ces moyens – la
progression thématique, les relations anaphoriques, les isotopies, les connecteurs - peuvent
être repérés dans le texte sous leur forme de surface ou sous leur forme de profondeur. Ce
qui nous conduit à développer une telle démarche c’est la propriété du discours qui fait
que tous les segments qui le composent soient liés sémantiquement les uns aux autres,
autrement dit sa cohérence.
Le texte est considéré, d’une manière générale, comme un support langagier
spécifique, comme un ensemble de phrases ou d’énoncés qui forment la trace d’un discours
ancré dans un contexte d’énonciation. Harald Weinrich (1973) considère le texte « un
réseau de déterminations », «un tout où chaque élément entretient avec les autres des
relations d’interdépendance ». Ces éléments, soutient ce grammairien, ou groupes
d’éléments se suivent « en ordre cohérent et consistant, chaque segment textuel compris
contribuant à l’intelligibilité de celui qui suit. Ce dernier à son tour, une fois décodé, vient
éclairer rétrospectivement le précédent » [1] (Weinrich, H., 1973 : 22)
Selon M. Riegel et all.« la cohérence est une propriété du discours, qui est mis en
relation avec les conditions d’énonciation, alors que la cohésion est une propriété du texte,
qui est envisagé fermé sur lui-même. Ainsi, les jugements de cohérence dépendent des
connaissances du monde et de la situation, qui sont partagées ou non par l’énonciateur et
son destinataire, alors que la cohésion du texte s’évalue en fonction de l’organisation
sémantique interne » [2](Riegel, M.,1994 : 605)
Dominique Maingueneau (1996) considère que la cohésion résulte de
l'enchaînement des propositions, de la linéarité du texte, tandis que la cohérence s'appuie
sur la cohésion mais fait aussi intervenir des contraintes globales, non linéaires, attachées
au contexte. « Analyser la cohésion d'un texte, c'est l'appréhender comme un
enchaînement, comme une texture, [...] où des phénomènes linguistiques très divers font à
la fois progresser le texte et assurent sa continuité par des répétitions. Mais un texte peut
exhiber les signes d'une cohésion parfaite sans pour autant être cohérent. Pour qu'un texte
soit dit cohérent, il doit être rapporté à une intention globale, [...] La cohérence passe
aussi par l'identification du thème du texte, de quoi il traite, à l'intérieur d'un certain
univers (fictif, historique, théorique ...) ».[3](Maingueneau, 1990 :32)
Mais il ne sert à rien de relever les marqueurs de cohérence d'un texte si l'on ne
peut déterminer, en même temps, s'ils sont en quantité suffisante ou s'ils ont été utilisés
d’une manière appropriée. Il faudrait, donc, ajouter à la liste des procédés de cohérence
établie par les grammairiens du texte, des critères d'évaluation qui nous permettent de

epérer les défauts de cohérence d'un texte, d'en trouver la cause, d'expliciter notre
jugement et de proposer une correction appropriée.
C’est pourquoi, à partir des travaux de Lorraine Pépin de l’Université du Québec
[4] nous avons essayé d’analyser quelques défauts de la cohérence textuelle, défauts reliés
à la cohésion textuelle. Lorraine Pépin propose une typologie des défauts de cohérence
textuelle en analysant la cohésion, l'étagement ou hiérarchisation (le regroupement des
informations, leur ordre de présentation, leur coordination, leur articulation, l'annonce
explicite de leur organisation hiérarchique, etc.) et ce qu’elle appelle « la résolution
incertaine » (juxtaposition des informations, mauvaise organisation des informations,
imprécision des informations, déviation des informations, retard des informations, etc.).
Le texte se déroule dans le temps ce qui fait que, d’une phrase à l’autre, soit
absolument nécessaire le rappel de ce dont on vient de parler, à savoir la cohésion
thématique, et en même temps, le rappel de la signification de ce que l’on vient d’en dire,
c’est - à - dire la cohésion sémantique.
Les procédés qui garantissent la cohésion d’un texte sont classifiés en deux sousgroupes
:
a) la récurrence, la coréférence, la contiguïté sémantique, le parallélisme
sémantique, le contraste sémantique et la résonance qui portent la trace thématique ou
sémantique de ce qui vient d’être dit ;
b) la jonction (liaison par connecteurs) qui assure la cohésion en désignant le sens
d’une relation entre deux phrases.
On peut parler de la cohésion d’un texte si ces traces peuvent être reconnues par les
lecteurs et si elles sont suffisamment visibles d’une phrase à l’autre. Nous nous arrêterons
seulement sur quelques-uns des procédés mentionnés ci-dessus. Et pour cela nous allons
analyser des exemples de carences de cohésion liés au parallélisme sémantique, au
contraste sémantique et à la résonance.
Le parallélisme sémantique désigne une correspondance sémantique biunivoque
entre les syntagmes comparables de deux phrases, correspondance qui met en relief les
ressemblances et les dissemblances entre ces deux phrases. Si l’on n’applique pas
complètement ce procédé du parallélisme sémantique, on jette dans l’oubli les informations
contenues dans la première phrase, informations non reprises dans la deuxième phrase de
la paire et donc inutiles.
Prenons quelques exemples :
1. L’informatique est un domaine essentiel pour le développement d’un pays mais
les équipements en sont très chers. Est-il naturel que l’informaticien ait un salaire plus
grand que le directeur de l’entreprise?
Ex.1. a) – variante proposée : L’informatique est un domaine essentiel pour le
développement d’un pays mais très cher. Est-il naturel que l’informaticien [et ici on
pourra ajouter : « doive mettre au point la structure informationnelle de toute l’unité
économique» pour établir un parallèle avec le mot essentiel] et qu’il ait un salaire plus
grand qu’un directeur d’entreprise? [mis en rapport avec très cher].
Ex. 2. Le directeur d’entreprise conduit, chaque jour, toute l’activité économique
de l’entreprise tandis que l’informaticien dirige seulement le secteur informationnel. .
2. a) – variante possible : Le directeur d’entreprise conduit, chaque jour, toute
l’activité économique de l’entreprise tandis que l’informaticien dirige seulement le
secteur informationnel [on peut ajouter : en y intervenant lorsqu’il est nécessaire et mettre
ainsi en correspondance avec chaque jour].
A la suite de la lecture des corrigés proposés en (1.a) et (2.a) on se rend compte de
l’application du parallélisme sémantique dans la deuxième phrase des paires de phrases de
(1) et de (2). On observe que les syntagmes ajoutés ont pour conséquence la mise en valeur
120

de tout ce qui a été dit dans la première phrase et ces rattachements peuvent se constituer
soit en un simple rappel soit en une explication [voir l’exemple (1)] ou en une mise en
opposition [voir l’exemple (2)].
Un autre procédé qui assure la cohésion d’un texte est lié à l’application correcte du
contraste sémantique. Le contraste sémantique met en évidence une opposition
sémantique déjà manifestée entre deux phrases ; c’est à l’aide de l’antonymie que se réalise
l’opposition sémantique entre deux termes essentiels de ces phrases.
Ex. 3. Marie est une jeune fille très délicate. Cependant, souvent elle accomplit des
tâches avec beaucoup d’énergie.
Dans l’exemple ci-dessus l’opposition manifestée déjà par le connecteur cependant
est reprise, confirmée et soutenue par l’emploi de l’antonymie des mots délicate et avec
énergie.
Il y a des cas où le contraste sémantique est redondant parce que le sens qu’il
exprime est donné déjà dans la deuxième phrase, et d’autres cas où il est essentiel.
Ex. 4. Marc est parfois déplaisant. Pourtant, aujourd’hui il s’est montré aimable en
offrant des fleurs à son amie.
L’exemple nous permet d’observer la redondance par le fait que le sens du mot
aimable est déjà suggéré par le syntagme offrir des fleurs.
Lorraine Pépin soutient que l’application du contraste sémantique est essentielle à
la compréhension d’une opposition entre deux phrases surtout lorsque cette opposition est
faiblement exprimée et alors il faut absolument la renforcer. Pour illustrer ses dires, elle
donne les exemples :
Ex. 5. Dans ma famille, nous sommes des gens bien ordinaires. Mais grâce aux
nombreuses années passées dans le monde de la politique, mes parents et moi avons
acquis un sens de la critique et de la tolérance très élevé.
5. a) variante proposée : Dans ma famille, nous sommes des gens bien ordinaires.
Mais grâce aux nombreuses années passées dans le monde de la politique, mes parents et
moi avons acquis un sens de la critique et de la tolérance extraordinaire ou hors du
commun. (On a ajouté les mots soulignés pour mettre en contraste avec le syntagme gens
bien ordinaires et pour remémorer cette expression. L’adverbe très élevé est trop faible
pour soutenir l’opposition exprimée par Mais).
Ex. 6. Suite de l'exemple précédent : Mais grâce aux nombreuses années passées
dans le monde de la politique, mes parents et moi avons acquis un sens de la critique et de
la tolérance très élevé. Pourtant, vers le mois de janvier, nous apprenions que les
hockeyeurs demandaient un plus gros salaire.
6. a) variante proposée : Mais grâce aux nombreuses années passées dans le monde
de la politique, mes parents et moi avons acquis un sens de la critique et de la tolérance
très élevé. Pourtant, c’est avec indignation que …vers le mois de janvier, nous apprenions
que les hockeyeurs demandaient un plus gros salaire. (On a ajouté le syntagme souligné
pour le mettre en contraste avec tolérance et de cette manière on comprendra mieux
l’opposition annoncée par Pourtant. Par le défaut du contraste sémantique pourtant mettra
en opposition deux énoncés qui ne sont pas comparables : 1) Nous sommes tolérants et 2)
(pourtant) nous avons appris telle nouvelle.
Un troisième facteur de cohésion et implicitement de cohérence textuelle est lié au
phénomène de résonance discursive. La résonance consiste en l’utilisation de termes
disjoints : moi,…je, pour ma part…, Marie, elle..., Jean, quant à lui …etc. Ce procédé
assure la continuité thématique lorsque les exigences de la progression du discours
nécessitent l’introduction des thèmes nouveaux.
Ex. 7. Marie lit beaucoup, Hélène, elle aime la peinture.
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Dans cet exemple il n’est pas du tout nécessaire d’en lire davantage pour se rendre
compte que Marie et Hélène sont liées. Les termes disjoints Hélène, elle…évoquent
obligatoirement, par résonance, la présence d’un autre dans la phrase antérieure et par cela
on soutient la continuité thématique. L’emploi des termes disjoints a pour but la correction
des ruptures thématiques dans les chaînes discursives ; la résonance est réclamée lors des
changements brusques de la thématique.
Ex. 8. Max rentra dans un café et s’assit à une table...etc. Sa femme fila au
supermarché pour acheter des…etc.
8.a) on pourrait dire : Sa femme, elle, fila au… ou Quant à sa femme…ayant en
vue la rupture thématique (le rhème).
Ex. 9 Selon une enquête faite récemment auprès des Canadiens, les Québécois sont
les plus gros consommateurs d'autos au pays. L'auto leur permet une plus grande
indépendance. Les habitants de Montréal aiment davantage voyager en avion...
9. a) version proposée : Les habitants de Montréal, eux...ou Les habitants de
Montréal, quant à eux...
Dans l’exemple 9) la scissure thématique provoquée par l’introduction de la
nouvelle information (sur les habitants de Montréal) est éliminée et la continuité
thématique est rétablie au moyen du phénomène de la résonance.
La cohérence d’un texte est due, comme nous avons vu, à divers facteurs qui se
situent, tous, soit à un plan sémantique, qui couvre la compréhension des unités
linguistiques, soit à un plan pragmatique, qui touche aux rapports de sens entre les énoncés
et la situation où ils sont produits. Il est très important de bien saisir que la cohérence ne
relève pas d’un ensemble de règles arbitraires imposées par une grammaire quelconque,
mais, au contraire, de l’observation des mécanismes au moyen desquels les lecteurs ont
tendance à traiter les textes qui leur sont soumis.
Pour qu’un texte soit apprécié comme étant cohérent, il faudrait que rien ne manque
de ce qui est nécessaire à l’atteinte de la fin qui a géré sa rédaction. Un texte cohérent ne
doit pas laisser au lecteur l’impression de quelque chose d’incomplet ou de tronqué.
Il y a des situations où un texte peut endurer certaines carences à cause d’une
variété de raisons, à savoir, un manque de documentation, une mauvaise compréhension
du problème qui conduit l’auteur à laisser de coté des données essentielles, un style
insuffisamment explicite, etc.
En guise de conclusion nous apprécions que pour rédiger un texte cohérent le
scripteur doit tenir compte de plusieurs aspects dont nous ne rappelons que quelques uns
[5] :
- le lecteur ne connaît pas ce dont le scripteur veut traiter: celui-ci doit développer,
expliquer, illustrer ; le texte doit permettre au lecteur qui ne connaît pas les données de se
les représenter ;il sera donc parfois nécessaire de reformuler de façon différente, de
traduire des chiffres en mots etc.
- le lecteur n'a pas les idées claires: le texte du scripteur doit être clair, organisé
visuellement et linguistiquement, etc. ;
- le lecteur ne croit pas ce qu’il lit : le texte doit être véridique, fondé sur des
sources crédibles, des témoignages, des citations d'experts, avec un vocabulaire exact ;
- le lecteur n'a pas envie de lire: le texte doit être séduisant, doit avoir un style
communicatif, une mise en pages attrayante, une longueur des phrases entre 10 et 15 mots.
Comme professeurs, nous parlons de cohérence textuelle pour décrire les marques
par lesquelles un scripteur assure les liens entre les idées et fait avancer sa pensée dans son
texte. Dans notre pratique pédagogique, c’est un problème d’écriture, de rédaction par les
élèves et d’évaluation de la clarté et de la qualité de leurs textes pour nous, les enseignants.
122

Etudier la cohérence et la cohésion textuelles en tant que phénomènes qui facilitent
la lecture, la production et la compréhension des textes, c’est amener les étudiants à
découvrir la manière de construire et d’interpréter le sens partiel au niveau de la phrase, le
sens global au niveau du texte et en même temps, la manière d’interpréter les aspects
discursifs au niveau de cette superstructure qui est le texte.
REFERENCES BIBLIOGRAPHIQUES
[1] Weinrich, Harald, Le temps, Editions du Seuil, Paris, 1973, p.22;
[2] Riegel, M., Pellat, J.-C., Rioul, R., Grammaire méthodique du français, PUF, 1994, p. 605
[3] Maingueneau, Dominique, Éléments de linguistique pour le texte littéraire, Bordas, Paris, 1990
[4] Pépin Lorraine, Analyse de quelques défauts de cohérence textuelle, Correspondance, volume 4,
numéro 2, nov. 1998, in www.ccdmd/qc.ca/correspo/Corr4-2/lecture.html
[5] www.revel.unicefr/cycnos/sommaire.html?=10
Charolles, Michel, L’encadrement du discours : univers, champs, domaines et espaces, Cahiers de
Recherches Linguistiques, CNRS 1035, Université Nancy 2, 6, pp. 1-73
Kleiber G., 1990, Quand "il" n'a pas d'antécédent, Langages, 97, 24-50.
Kleiber G., 1992a, Cap sur les topiques avec le pronom « il », L'information Grammaticale, 54, pp.
15-26.
Weinrich, Harald, Grammaire textuelle du Français, Didier Hatier, Paris, 1989
www.oasisfle.com/documents/progressions_thematiques.htm
www.unige.ch/lettres/linge/moeschler/Discours/Discours4/sld002htm
http://membres.lycos.fr/chrismoulin/lexique.htm#r1
123
Abstract
To acquire the skill of writing, be it in a foregin language or not, imposes it on the learner to
acquire the competence of formal communication, which is accessible only during classes,
through a continuous contact with written ’products’.
Our paper will describe results of an effective observation of several aspects which we
consider to underly the coherence of a text, and which may be translated at the level of textuality.
We are convinced that the didactic practice on textual coherence will enable learners to identify
their own competence in the reading of a certain text type and to resort to this competence to
determine the acceptability limits of the written text the learner has just produced.
Résumé
L’habitude d’écrire dans une langue, étrangère ou non, demande à l’étudiant, à part l’acquisition
des compétences de communication formelle, accessibles pendant les heures de classe
exclusivement, le contact continu aux « produits » écrits.
Notre article se propose d’observer, effectivement, la manière dont les divers aspects
que nous jugeons être à la base de la cohérence textuelle, se traduisent au niveau de la
textualité. Résolument, la pratique didactique portant sur la cohérence textuelle aidera l’étudiant
à identifier ses propres compétences de lecture pour un certain type de texte et en faire ainsi
référence, afin de fixer les limites d’acceptabilité du texte écrit qu’il vient de produire.
Rezumat
Deprinderea de scrie într-o limbã, fie ea strãinã sau nu, solicitã studentului, în afarã de
dobândirea unor competenţe de comunicare formale care sunt accesibile doar în cadrul orelor de
curs, contactul continuu cu « produsele » scrise.
Articolul nostru îşi propune sã observe, efectiv, modul în care diverse aspecte, pe care
noi le considerãm a fi la baza coerenţei unui text, pot sã fie traduse la nivelul textualitãţii. Avem
convingerea cã practica didacticã asupra coerenţei textuale va ajuta studentul sã-şi identifice
propriile competenţe de lecturã într-un anume tip de text dat şi sã apeleze la aceste competenţe
pentru a determina limitele de acceptabilitate ale textului scris pe care tocmai l-a produs.

Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of GALAŢI
Fascicle XIII, New Series, Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006
Book reviews
pp. i - vii
INTERFERENŢE LINGVISTICE ÎN DIACRONIA LIMBII ROMÂNE
Doina Marta Bejan
Bucureşti: Editura Didactică şi Pedagogică, 2005, 238 pp.
Limba română, limbă romanică, îşi conturează individualitatea printre celelalte limbi
neolatine şi prin nivelul lexical, asupra căruia, de-a lungul secolelor, s-au exercitat influenţe
lingvistice străine fie ca urmare a contactelor directe cu diferite populaţii, fie a interferenţelor
la nivel cărturăresc. Observaţii privind aceste interferenţe, afirmaţii cu caracter teoretic sau
aplicativ apar în literatura etimologică descriind limba română sub formă de volume (Hristea
1968, Ciobanu 1996, Dinu 1996, Sala 1999, Felecan 2004), dicţionare (Ciobanu 2004,
Ciorănescu 2002) studii (Mihăilă 1960, Avram 1997) capitole sau subcapitole dedicate ariei
etimologice (structura etimologică procentuală a vocabularului, argumentarea etimologiei
unor unităţi lexicale aparţinând fie fondului principal de cuvinte, fie limbajelor specializate;
pentru detalii a se vedea Zugun 2000) sau interferenţelor lingvistice.
Cartea pe care o prezentăm selectează şi sintetizează
informaţia dintr-o bogată literatură de specialitate care
abordează direct sau aluziv, diferite aspecte ale acestor
influenţe. Tema propusă de autoare este prezentată pe
parcursul a aproximativ 240 de pagini, fiind structurată în
cinci mari capitole. Prevăzut cu un cuprinzător aparat critic,
volumul este recomandat tuturor celor interesaţi în
aprofundarea aspectelor teoretice şi practice ale etimologiei
limbii române, care pot extrage din aparatul critic informaţii
bibliografice utile.
Aşa cum se arată în secţiunea introductivă intitulată
Consideraţii preliminare, interesul autoarei “s-a oprit
asupra acelor interferenţe care au contribuit la fixarea
specificului limbii noastre în interiorul familiei limbilor
romanice, influenţa slavă, sau la influenţele care au dus la
modernizarea limbii române actuale, împrumuturile neologice având ca urmare sporirea
posibilităţilor de exprimare a celor mai noi şi mai variate idei” (8).
Sunt prezentate în capitole de sine stătătoare influenţe exercitate de acele culturi şi
limbi într-o anume perioadă din evoluţia limbii noastre, respectiv perioada în care româna
începe să cunoască forma sa cultă (literară) de manifestare. Structural cartea propune un
model bazat pe un nucleu al influenţelor, dezbătut în capitolele centrale şi două capitole
care asigură limite interferenţiale, interpretate prin prisma cronologiei evenimentelor socioculturale
reflectate în vocabularul limbii române.
Primul capitol, Influenţa slavă, începe prin a descrie cadrul istoric şi temporal în
care slavii „...îşi fac apariţia pe teritoriul Daciei...” (14), şi continuă cu periodizarea
influenţei slave. Apreciem, în mod deosebit, demersul complet propus de autoare, prin
referirile la influenţa limbilor slave învecinate şi a limbii slavone, exercitată, în cazul
acesta, prin intermediul limbii scrise. Capitolul se încheie cu bogate exemplificări extrase
din lexicul de origine slavonă din patrimoniul limbii române.
Cea mai întinsă parte a lucrării, 133 de pagini, este reprezentată de trei capitole:
Influenţa latină, Influenţa italiană, şi Influenţa franceză care au fost concepute într-o
viziune sistemică pentru a argumenta fenomenul „‘occidentalizării romanice’ (termen
propus în 1978 de Al. Niculescu pentru ceea ce numea, la 1940, Sextil Puşcariu –
reromanizare). Este un proces de întărire a caracterului romanic originar al limbii române
i

Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of GALAŢI
Fascicle XIII, New Series, Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006
Book reviews
pp. i - vii
prin influenţa latină cultă sau savantă şi a altor limbi romanice, italiană şi franceză în
principal, [...] în limba română existând astăzi, din această sursă, cel mai mare număr de
neologisme şi de calcuri, acoperind toate sferele vieţii materiale şi spirituale româneşti.
Astfel, după unsprezece - douăsprezece secole de izolare de occidentul romanic, româna îşi
regăseşte, prin intermediul culturii, locul ce i se cuvine în lumea romanică”(5).
Ultimul capitol, Influenţa engleză, prezintă, în linii mari, contribuţia engleză,
acceptată ca fiind cea mai recentă şi mai puternică influenţă care se exercită asupra limbii
noastre, asigurând receptarea neologismelor cu caracter internaţional.
Capitolele au, în linii mari, o structură asemănătoare: împrejurările istorice în care
s-a produs contactul între limbi, periodizarea influenţei respective, un inventar al unităţilor
lexicale, stabilit pe criteriile semantic şi morfologic, particularităţi ale adaptării
neologismelor de originile amintite la sistemul fonetic şi morfologic al limbii române, un
subcapitol despre calcuri de diverse tipuri şi un subcapitol despre formarea cuvintelor, în
care sunt înregistrate afixele separate din cuvintele împrumutate, şi care au devenit
productive în limba română.
Aproape fiecare capitol încearcă să lămurească problema etimologiei multiple a
unor unităţi lexicale în limba română. Binevenită este prezentarea fenomenului
franţuzismelor aparente, numite de Theodor Hristea pseudofranţuzisme, prin analogie cu
pseudoanglicismele, adică acele cuvinte care nu există în limba franceză sau engleză, dar
care au fost create în limba română sau în alte limbi de unde româna le-a preluat, prin
combinarea unor teme sau elemente formative de origine franceză / engleză: grandoman,
grandomanie, tenismen, recordmen etc.
Informaţia fiecărui capitol se completează cu bogate note care detaliază aspecte din
bibliografia consultată, de obicei răspândită prin diverse reviste de specialitate sau în actele
congreselor de lingvistică.
Oferind o imagine sintetică asupra unui important capitol de istorie a limbii
române, lucrarea se parcurge, datorită sistematizării, cu uşurinţă, asigurând cititorului o
mai bună înţelegere a devenirii limbii noastre.
Referinţe şi sugestii bibliografice:
1. Avram, Mioara, Anglicismele în limba română actuală, Bucureşti, 1997
2. Ciobanu, Georgeta, Anglicisme în limba română, Timişoara, 1996
3. Ciobanu,Georgeta, Romanian Words of English Origin, Timişoara, 2004
4. Ciorănescu,Alexandru, Dicţionarul etimologic al limbii române, Bucureşti, 2002
5. Dinu, Mihai, Personalitatea limbii române. Fizionomia vocabularului, Bucureşti, 1996
6. Felecan, Nicolae, Vocabularul limbii române, Cluj-Napoca, 2004 (pp. 92-122)
7. Hristea, Theodor, Probleme de etimologie, Bucureşti, 1968 (pp. 108-114)
8. Mihăilă, G., Împrumuturi vechi sud-slave în limba română. Studiu lexico-semantic,
Bucureşti, 1960
9. Niculescu, Al., Individualitatea limbii române între limbile romanice. Contribuţii
socio-culturale, Bucureşti, 1978
10. Sala, Marius, Introducere în etimologia limbii române, Bucureşti, 1999 (pp. 166-218)
11. Zugun, Petru, Lexicologia limbii române, Iaşi, 2000 (pp. 80-83).
ii
Floriana Popescu
Universitatea Dunărea de Jos, Galaţi

Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of GALAŢI
Fascicle XIII, New Series, Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006
Book reviews
pp. i - vii
WHEN ALMA MATER HEARS FROM HER OFFSPRING
CULTURAL MEDIATION. A CASE STUDY OF SAMI RESEARCH
Elena Mirona Ciocîrlie
University of Tromsø, Faculty of Social Sciences, 2005, 158 pp.
THE WAYS OF THE NOVEL: OR, THE QUEST FOR VERISIMILITUDE IN THE
EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY FRENCH AND ENGLISH NOVEL
Gabriela Iuliana Colipcă
Leiden: UFB/ GrafiMedia Universiteit Leiden, 2005, 504 pp.
What the two books introduced in this double reviewing share is the fact that they were
both written by young graduates from the University of Galaţi and were published under
the aegis of two universities in Europe. Each marks a step further in its authoress’
academic accomplishment.
Such is the state of contemporary societies faced with the liberal market of cultural
homogenization, which reflecting on their own diversity
has become a necessity nowadays. The group of Sami
researchers connected with the University of Tromsø in
Norway, engaged in experimenting themes and methods
while mediating aspects of indigenous culture with a view
to challenging the Western paradigm, is a case in point.
The first book under discussion here grew out of
the two years spent by Mirona Ciocîrlie as a student of the
Indigenous Master Programme at the University of
Tromsø, and represents her dissertation submitted for the
degree of Master of Philosophy on Indigenous Studies at
the Faculty of Sciences there.
A graduate from the Faculty of Letters at the
University of Galaţi and also a MA in Cultural Studies at the
Bucharest University, Mirona Ciocîrlie is currently employed
as a project assistant with the Centre for Sami Studies at the University of Tromsø and is
qualifying for a funded PhD position at the Faculty of Humanities at the said university.
In her study, she makes the most of the Sami researchers’ innovative and
experimenting work with the intention of revealing the process of globalization in a specific
cultural area in Northern Norway in its interaction and communication with the academic area.
The theoretical approach is sustained by two case studies resulting from Mirona
Ciocîrlie’s intercourse with two interviewees benefited by their position both as academics
and members of the Sami indigenous culture. Ande Somby is Associate Professor at the
Faculty of Law, and his article Some Hybrids of the Legal Situation of the Sami People in
Norway, giving vent to his frustrations as a Sami subjected to the process of
norweginisation, makes the object of his conversation with Mirona. (32-53) Henry Minde
is Professor of Sami History at the Faculty of History and he is being interviewed on his
article Assimilation of the Sami – Implementation and Consequences. (54-74) The two
texts are indeed the core of this research as they appear complementary to one another, and
the full transcriptions of the two conversations reveal Mirona Ciocîrlie as an apt
interviewer, able to elicit relevant responses from each of her interlocutors.
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Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of GALAŢI
Fascicle XIII, New Series, Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006
Book reviews
pp. i - vii
In mapping her theoretical concepts, the authoress comes closer to such specific
aspects as the Western discourse about the Other (S. Mills), the reader-response theory
(Wolfgang Iser’s translatability and recursive looping), colonial and post-colonial
theorizing (Edward Said, Arnold Krupat) and, of course, postmodern and poststructural
critical paradigms (Michel de Certeau, Michel Foucault, Brian McHale, Paul Ricœur, or H.
White). Not infrequently, the dense scholarly discourse is enlivened by occasional
(auto)biographical glimpses. At the beginning of her studies at Tromsø, Mirona Ciocîrlie
confesses, she found herself immersed in a new cultural environment where she became
aware of the political and administrative dimensions of the Indigenous Discourse which
tended to describe indigenous communities as politically weak, economically inadequate
and culturally stigmatized. While aware of being the product of a European type of
civilization valuing critical, objective estimation of the facts of life, she found similarities
in her childhood upbringing amidst rural population back in the rural Romania, relevant for
a better understanding of how to deal with issues of difference. The scholarly tension is
also released with cases taken from Sami past and recent history, of Shamanic tradition, of
environmental protests, of legal action taken against expropriation of property, all of these
meant to take the reader into the realities of the Sami people in Norway.
However, the reader may consider that it takes more than two texts/ interviews to
substantiate the point that seems to be focal for the study under discussion, viz. that the
ways in which indigenous researchers have challenged the Western discourse on
indigenous cultures are far more numerous and diverse than previously expected. Further
cases in point might have indeed been welcome to demonstrate the diversity of the
discourse of the intelligentsia in native communities as evidence of their mounting
determination to preserve their spiritual and material identities.
Despite being marred by a number of errors caused by editorial mismanagement,
the book is an outstanding achievement of cultural synthesis coupled with a compelling
analytical approach, and speaks to specialists and non-specialists alike.
GABRIELA IULIANA COLIPCĂ
THE WAYS OF THE NOVEL:
OR,
THE QUEST FOR VERISIMILITUDE
IN THE EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY
FRENCH AND ENGLISH NOVEL
UNIVERSITEIT LEIDEN
2005
The second book to be reviewed is the result of its
authoress’ full time doctoral research with the
Comparative Literature Department at the University of
Leiden as the recipient of a PhD grant by the Pallas
Institute of that university. Also a graduate from the
University of Galaţi, Gabriela Iuliana Colipcă received an
MA degree in Translation and Interpretation from her
Alma Mater where she has been employed since 1999.
Now she holds the position of senior lecturer.
In an impressive study (five hundred pages or so
long), Gabriela Colipcă conducts a comparative
examination of the emergence and development of fiction
in two major European literatures, the English and French
ones, with special focus on the verisimilitude-creating
devices which, in her opinion, marked the shift from the
Enlightenment to the Romantic age. Actually, the concept of verisimilitude appears indeed
as the cornerstone that sustains the whole theoretical edifice informing this work. From the
Aristotelian principle of mimesis to the early eighteenth-century concept of outer
verisimilitude and further to inner verisimilitude in the latter half of the century, the book
traces the avatars of the aesthetic component of lifelikeness placed within the framework
iv

Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of GALAŢI
Fascicle XIII, New Series, Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006
Book reviews
pp. i - vii
of the eighteenth-century European mentalities. This can be seen in each of the four
sections (Parts) where verisimilitude is constantly resorted to as a key concept. Thus, Part
One: Verisimilitude and the Illusion of Reality brings to the focus, through subsequent
subchapters, the ways in which the novel managed to change its status from marginal to
canonical by experimenting with new means of creating verisimilitude. Part Two:
Verisimilitude and the Voyage Abroad. Philosophical Quests looks at travel narratives as
marking the spiritual transition from stability to mobility when “realism of assessment”
emerged as another essential dimension of the verisimilitude pattern of the voyage abroad
(148). Part Three: Verisimilitude and the Picaresque Journey outlines and discusses the
multiple uses of the picaresque vein as a favourite device of representing reality in the
eighteenth-century novel. Part Four: Verisimilitude, Voyages and the Passion Pattern is
perceived as the most heterogeneous of all since the examination of the preference for the
voyage due to its capacity of conveying verisimilitude calls for a reiteration of all the main
directions of the previous discussion. This section examines the gradual metamorphosis
and final triumph of inner verisimilitude while maintaining that “the ideals and
verisimilitude models of the Enlightenment man (…) make way for those of the Romantic,
modern individual who continues to travel, but with a different goal and within the
boundaries of different horizons” (473).
Close reading exploration into the texts of representative eighteenth-century French
and English fiction authors (mention is made of as many as 46 titles) provide a stimulating
and thought-provoking addition. Making the most of a bibliography encompassing the
whole gamut of theoretical research in the field from, say, the now classical Wellek and
Warren to the very latest, Gabriela Colipcă’s book brings together all the salient points that
landmark a crucial moment in the development of the modern novel.
Excellently written, well documented, clearly structured, this is a compelling
reading for students, scholars and anyone with an interest in the novel.
LE GOUT DES MOTS. SAVOAREA CUVINTELOR.
Dicţionar francez-român de termeni culinari*.
Virginia Veja şi colectiv.
Bucureşti: Editura Didactică şi Pedagogică. 2006
v
Eugenia Gavriliu
“Dunărea de Jos” University of Galaţi
Ce dictionnaire se propose d’investiguer une zone
toujours intéressante de l’univers du discours public: le
vocabulaire d’orientation gastronomique, plus spécialement le
vocabulaire de la cuisine.
Elaboré par un groupe d’étudiantes en DEA, certaines
d’entre elles devenues par la suite nos collègues, le
dictionnaire reflète les éléments thématiques en usage et tente
de mettre en évidence le rapport qui existe, en général, entre
la culture, la langue et leurs représentations lexicographiques.
Né d’un évident besoin, tant pour l’utilisateur commun
que pour le spécialiste terminologue et/ou le traducteur, ce
dictionnaire met à la disposition du public intéressé une liste

Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of GALAŢI
Fascicle XIII, New Series, Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006
Book reviews
pp. i - vii
d’environ 6000 mots et lexies identifiés dans des corpus bilingues, français et roumain,
traités de façon à ce qu’ils donnent une image de l’univers thématique dans les langues
mises en rapport.
Les auteurs de ce travail ont essayé d’éviter le dérisoire d’un « faux dictionnaire »
et se sont impliquées avec beaucoup de passion dans l’élaboration d’un vrai dictionnaire,
capable de décrire ce monde savoureux de la cuisine française et bien davantage.
Ce dictionnaire que nous proposons non seulement à un emploi ponctuel dicté par
des nécessités de compréhension, mais aussi à la lecture encyclopédique, se donne pour
tâche d’harmoniser une présentation lexicographique, caractérisée par des entrées
polysémiques, classification alphabétique et marquage différentiel, avec une présentation
terminologique, dans le but de mettre en évidence les zones de la constitution du sens
autant au niveau de la langue source (le français) qu’à celui de la langue cible (le roumain).
ON MODERNISM, POSTMODERNISM AND THE NOVEL
Michaela Praisler
Bucureşti: Editura Didactică şi Pedagogică, 2005, 183 pp
vi
Conf. Univ. dr. Angelica Vâlcu
Université “Dunărea de Jos”, Galaţi
Modern and contemporary literature has long been the object of debate. Critics have
emphasized its avant-garde nature and have pointed out the intricacies of its fabric, readers
have dismissed it as either too innovative to be pleasing or as difficult and eclectic, students
have coped but not actually got to grips with its discourse. Michaela Praisler’s book partly
adds to the debate, partly informs and stimulates. It addresses philology undergraduates,
offering them ideas about how to read the (post)modern novel, how to enjoy its strange
experiments, and how to assess its value. In this it is intended to support the daring enterprise
of teaching literature and to encourage reading in the era of texts being sooner browsed,
listened to or watched rather than interacted with in the old
fashioned way.
On Modernism, Postmodernism and the Novel
examines the main strands of twentieth-century fiction,
including post-war, post-imperial and multicultural fiction. In
so doing, it looks into the metamorphoses of novel modes of
writing and challenges canonical patterns by shedding new
light on generally recognised valuable contributors to the
literary stage and by observing their latest reformulations
with writers who still have to enter this exclusivist zone, but
whose works clearly deserve our attention.
In short, it focuses on the most popular of literary
genres and is structured into two parts, which concentrate
on the trends announced by the title and which develop
“from a theoretical base to individual writers and
representative works”. Inspired and necessary for a
coherent survey of the twentieth century literary phenomenon and its contemporary
hypostases, the choices operated are:

Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of GALAŢI
Fascicle XIII, New Series, Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006
Book reviews
pp. i - vii
Henry James, Edward Morgan Forster and Joseph Conrad (Early Modernism); Virginia
Woolf, James Joyce and David Herbert Lawrence (Experimentalism); Angus Wilson and
Kingsley Amis (The Angry Novel);
Lawrence Durrell, John Fowles and David Lodge (Metafiction); Doris Lessing, Fay
Weldon and Helen Fielding (Feminine/Feminist Fiction); Salman Rushdie and Kazuo
Ishiguro (Postcolonial Writing).
The writers’ contribution to the novel is placed within the wider historical and
cultural frame of the time of writing but, more importantly, of the time of their reception,
with a view to pointing out the openness of interpretation, the multitude of possible
interpretative strategies. Furthermore, the explicit and implicit core of their writings is
accessed through the lens of major critical directions, thus having theory and practice come
together and familiarising readers not only with the discourse of fiction, but with that of
criticism also.
Including a selection of Texts (excerpts from The Portrait of a Lady, A Passage to
India, Heart of Darkness, Mrs. Dalloway, Ulysses, Sons and Lovers, Anglo-Saxon
Attitudes, Lucky Jim, The Alexandria Quartet, The French Lieutenant’s Woman, Changing
Places, The Diaries of Jane Somers, Down Among the Women, Bridget Jones’s Diary,
Midnight’s Children and The Remains of the Day), Michaela Praisler manages to put things
into perspective, to illustrate that which has previously been stated with reference to style,
diction, narrative practice and technique, to thus allow students to practice actual text
analysis, guided along by Tasks which orient and facilitate the approach. The Useful
Terminology section which precedes the Bibliography serves practically the same
purposes, defining terms and giving examples.
Neatly structured and pertinently presented, the volume touches on the most
neuralgic of issues associated with the novelty of modernism and the controversy of
postmodernism, constituting itself at once into an appealing course of lectures and a
thought-provoking collection of texts illustrative of the language of literature at its best.
Having read Michaela Praisler’s book, one is compelled to acknowledge that the novel has
remained as purposeful and relevant form as it was one hundred years ago.
vii
Ioana Mohor-Ivan
“Dunărea de Jos” University of Galaţi

The Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of Galaţi.
Fascicle XIII. Language and Literature
New Series, Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006
ISSN 1221- 4647
Contributors
Dr. Simona Antofi is an associate professor at the Department of Literature, Linguistics
and Journalism, Faculty of Letters and Theology, “Dunărea de Jos” University of Galaţi. She is
coordinator of research projects and author of papers exploring such topics as “Cultural Identity
and Multiculturalism. A Romanian Identity Profile” (in Cultural Limits and Literature, Galaţi,
2006) or “Les modèles culturels identitaires roumains, des solutions d‘intégration européenne et
d’autolégitimité” (in CEDIMES, Târgovişte, 2006). Contact: simoantofi@yahoo.com
Dr. Doina Marta Bejan an associate professor at the Department of Literature,
Linguistics and Journalism, Faculty of Letters and Theology, “Dunărea de Jos” University of
Galaţi. Her latest publication, Interferenţe lingvistice în diacronia limbii române (Bucureşti:
Editura Didactică şi Pedagogică R.A., 2005) fully mirrors the author’s scientific interests (see the
Book Review for details). Contact: dmbejan@yahoo.com
Dr. Ruxanda Bontilă is an associate professor of British and American Literature at the
University of Galati, Romania. Her recent publications include Vladimir Nabokov’s English
Novels. The Art of Defusing Subjectivism (2004) and The Romantics and the Victorians. Views
and Weaves (2005). Contact: ruxbontila@yahoo.com
Raluca Bourceanu graduated from the Faculty of Letters (German - French), a “Al. I.
Cuza” University of Iaşi and has won several scholarships to study in Germany (Konstanz şi
München) and France (EPHE - Paris). As a young academic she teaches at “Al. I. Cuza”
University of Iaşi and carries out research at the Collège de France, Paris. Her fields of interest
include: theoretical linguistics, translation studies and the philosophy of language. Contact:
raluca_bourceanu@yahoo.com
Dr. Anca Cehan is an associate professor of linguistics and applied linguistics at the
Faculty of Letters, the English Department, “Alexandru Ioan Cuza” University of Iaşi. She has
carried out research and published studies in the fields of semantics, ELT methodology, discourse
analysis and pragmatics. Contact: acehan@uaic.ro
Dr. Mihaela Cirnu is a lecturer at the Department of Literature, Linguistics and
Journalism, the Faculty of Letters and Theology, “Dunărea de Jos” University of Galaţi. Her
research interests focus mainly on the Romanian language of advertising. Contact:
mihacirnu@yahoo.com
Damian Matei, a PhD student and a young academic of the the Department of Literature,
Linguistics and Journalism, Faculty of Letters and Theology, “Dunărea de Jos” University of
Galaţi will thoroughly investigate the Romanian literature in his quest for data on the image of the
press in the Romanian literature. Contact: matei83@yahoo.com
Dr. Petru Iamandi is an associate professor at the English Department, Faculty of
Letters and Theology, “Dunărea de Jos” University of Galaţi. His research interests cover mainly
the field of SF literature and history of SF literature. Contact: petrui55@yahoo.com
Nicoleta Ifrim, a young academic of the Department of Literature, Linguistics and
Journalism, the Faculty of Letters and Theology, “Dunărea de Jos” University of Galaţi, is
155

Contributors
Fascicle XIII. Language and Literature. Vol. 18 (2006)
currently preparing her doctoral thesis in the Romanian literature. Contact:
nicodasca@yahoo.com
Silvia Manoliu is a lecturer at The Department of Germanic Languages, Faculty of
Letters and Sciences of Language and Communication, ”Ştefan cel Mare” University of Suceava.
Her research interests focus mainly on applied linguistics (with a special interest in phonetics and
phonology, semantics and translation studies) Contact: silviamanoliu@litere.usv.ro
Dr. Ioana Mohor-Ivan an associate professor at the English Department, Faculty of
Letters and Theology, “Dunărea de Jos” University of Galaţi. The grants she was awarded by the
British Council enabled her to have direct access to Irish culture and literature. Contact:
ioana_mohor@yahoo.com
Gina Necula is a young academic of the Department of Literature, Linguistics and
Journalism, the Faculty of Letters and Theology, “Dunărea de Jos” University of Galaţi.
Currently she is performing research in Romanian linguistics, with a sepecial interest in the boiler
plate language. Contact: ginanec@gmail.com
Lidia Mihaela Necula is a young academic of the English Department, Faculty of
Letters and Theology, “Dunărea de Jos” University of Galaţi whose research interests focus on
contemporary English literature. Contact: lidiamicky_necula@yahoo.co. uk
Dr. Paraschiv Mihaela, associate professor at the Department of Classical Languages,
Italian and Spanish, of the Faculty of Letters “Al. I. Cuza” University of Iaşi. Author of two
volumes published in 2003 (Femeia în Roma antică, Iaşi: Junimea) and 2004 (Documentele latine
de cancelarie din Moldova (sec.XIV-XVIII), Iaşi: Junimea), Dr. Paraschiv has also published three
bilingual volumes of translations: M.Tullius Cicero, Despre divinaţie, Iaşi: Polirom, 1998,
M.Tullius Cicero, Despre destin, Iaşi: Polirom, 2000 and Sextus Aurelius Victor, Carte despre
împăraţi, Iaşi: Ed.Universităii "Al.I.Cuza" 2006. Contact: mihaelaparaschiv_clasice@yahoo.com
Steluţa Stan is a lecturer at the English Department, Faculty of Letters and Theology,
“Dunărea de Jos” University of Galaţi. Her research interests cover mainly the field of
postmodernist literature and she has also taken a special interest in the study of English modality.
Contact: stelutastan@yahoo.com
Daniela Şorcaru is a Junior Lecturer of English Linguistics in the Department of English
Language and Literature of the Faculty of Letters, “Dunărea de Jos” University of Galaţi. She has
published articles in conference volumes and chapter contributions to scientific research volumes,
most of them focused on stylistic linguistics. Contact: daniela_sorcaru@yahoo.com
Dr. Daniela uchel, is an associate professor of linguistics and applied linguistics at the
Faculty of Letters and Theology, “Dunărea de Jos” University of Galaţi. Her research interests
focus on pragmatics, rhetorics and the grammar of contemporary English. Contact:
tucheldaniela@yahoo.com
Dr. Angelica Vâlcu is an associate professor of linguistics and applied linguistics at the
French Department of the Faculty of Letters and Theology, “Dunărea de Jos” University of
Galaţi. Her research interests cover the fields of text linguistics, teaching French as a foreign
language. Contact: a_valcu@yahoo.fr>,