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Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of GALAŢI<br />
Fascicle XIII. New Series.<br />
Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006<br />
pp. 1 - 4<br />
1<br />
Language<br />
and<br />
Literature<br />
ROMANUL ROMÂNESC LA ÎNCEPUTURILE LUI. MODELE APUSENE ŞI<br />
RELEVANŢA LOR.<br />
MANOIL, DE DIMITRIE BOLINTINEANU<br />
Simona Antofi<br />
Asumarea, de către Bolintineanu, a unei serii de modele de scriitură romanescă,<br />
unele (aproape) incompatibile, în redactarea romanului Manoil se explică, în mod evident,<br />
prin încercarea de a arde etapele şi de a sincroniza specia abia născândă a romanului cu o<br />
paletă largă şi diversificată de modele care funcţionau – sau funcţionaseră deja – în<br />
literaturile occidentale, în special în cea franceză.<br />
Formele romanului epistolar îmbină tradiţia Noii Eloise, a lui Jean Jacques<br />
Rousseau, cu cea wertheriană, cu modelul René, al lui Chateaubriand, cu romanele doamnei<br />
de Staël, cu cea a romanelor de mistere gen Misterele Parisului, al lui Eugène Sue, sau<br />
Misterele Londrei, al lui Paul Féval, dar şi cu formula realismului de tip Balzac şi Stendhal.<br />
Particularităţile de structură şi de semnificaţii care vin din direcţii atât de diferite, în<br />
cadrul romanului lui Bolintineanu, se simt atât la nivelul naraţiunii, cât şi în construcţia<br />
personajelor şi în ansamblul lumii ficţionale pe care <strong>text</strong>ul o construieşte. Se adaugă, aici,<br />
lipsa de vigoare narativă a epicului romanesc, la începuturile literaturii române moderne, şi<br />
difuziunea câtorva mărci ale lirismului – percepute ca argumente în favoarea literaturităţii –<br />
în întreg corpusul literar al epocii paşoptiste şi postpaşoptiste. Este vorba, în special, despre<br />
criteriul sincerităţii şi despre clişeul – şi strategia de construcţie <strong>text</strong>uală – mărturisirii,<br />
precum şi de omul poetic – acel prototip al eroului romantic sentimental, melancolic,<br />
nefericit, pesimist, etern îndrăgostit de natură şi „predispus spre lungi divagaţii lirice” [1].<br />
Structura epistolară a romanului Manoil favorizează asimilarea tututror acestor<br />
elemente în spaţiul epicului – validând, în acest mod, un tip de scriitură deloc nou, în<br />
literatura universală, şi confirmând aşteptările unui public cititor obişnuit să aibă de-a face<br />
cu o serie de indicii semantico – structurale care să-i dirijeze ferm lectura.<br />
În aceeaşi ordine de idei, romanul sentimental „izolează protagoniştii” într-un model<br />
societal obţinut printr-un procedeu reductiv în centrul căruia stă eroul ce consideră deşartă<br />
lupta pentru existenţă şi care, tocmai de aceea, se retrage la moşie preferând, aristocratic,<br />
compania femeilor şi „farmecul naturii” [2].<br />
Pe de altă parte, trebuie menţionate mărcile realismului de tip balzacian – reunirea,<br />
la începutul romanului, a personajelor într-o scenă a mesei sau a salonului favorabilă<br />
prezentării sintetic – realiste a tipologiilor şi a caracterelor pe care evoluţia ulterioară a<br />
personajelor este de aşteptat să le confirme, prezentarea conflictului / conflictelor ce vor<br />
regla desfăşurarea tramei epice şi, implicit, a taberelor conflictuale, precum şi situarea
tuturor acestor elemente într-un con<strong>text</strong> spaţio – temporal istoriceşte determinabil, care<br />
motivează, în bună măsură, comportamentul eroilor, caracterele şi relaţiile interumane.<br />
Amestecul ingredientelor de tip roman sentimental face, însă, ca tipologiile – în<br />
special cele feminine – prezentate să se situeze în siajul romantismului minor: Smărăndiţa –<br />
„fără exagerare, o frumuseţe rară, dar seamănă cu o floare ce în dimineaţa vieţei sale se<br />
înclină melancolică! ... un suflet plin de blândeţă, o inteligenţă superioară; multe cunoştinţe,<br />
mai ales pentru o damă din timpul şi din ţara noastră!”; Zoe – nepoata Smărăndiţei – „o<br />
copilă de cincisprezece anişori; chipul mătuşe-sei, dar strălucitor de frăgezime. Ai<br />
asemăna-o cu un bobocel de roză pe care fluturii încă nu-l bagă în seamă; plină de spirit şi<br />
de inimă ...”; „Mărioara este o amică a Smărăndiţei: o fată de boier mare, de 18 – 20 de ani;<br />
nu este prea frumoasă, dar drăgălaşă ca luna lui mai! ... vorbele ei răsună ca o muzică<br />
sublimă; ideile cele mai comune în gura ei se îndumnezeiesc!” [3]. Aşa cum lasă să se<br />
înţeleagă acest portret cu putere de caracterizare după modelul romantic al epocii, Mărioara<br />
– spiritul comun, susceptibil de a devia în direcţia polului negativ al macrosemnificaţiei<br />
romaneşti, va confirma aşteptările publicului cititor şi se va transforma într-o prostituată<br />
celebră, cu veleităţi criminale.<br />
În ceea ce-l priveşte pe protagonistul romanuilui, el ilustrează tipologia parvenitului<br />
în varianta cel mai des întâlnită, şi anume parvenitul prin femei. În romanul sentimental –<br />
arată Nicolae Manolescu – rangul aristocratic are o importanţă majoră. Însă Manoil este<br />
orfan, cu o poziţie socială inferioară, un intrus în casa şi în familia moşierului Colescu,<br />
soţul Smărăndiţei. „Aspiraţia de a se contopi cu lumea dorită” şi „orgoliul plebeu” îl<br />
caracterizează şi pe el, ca şi pe eroii balzacieni şi stendhalieni. Însă metamorfoza<br />
personajului – inexplicabilă în grila verosimilităţii realiste – poate fi privită ca „semnul<br />
imitaţiei şi al parvenitismului” numai dacă acceptăm, o dată cu Nicolae Manolescu, faptul<br />
că Manoil îl detestă pe faţă pe Alexandru C., pentru a-l admira în secret [4].<br />
Chiar şi aşa, predictibilitatea – „indiciile privind încadrarea într-un gen anumit,<br />
sistemul personajelor, teme proeminente, poziţia şi felul naratorului”, ca „elemente<br />
implicite de anticipare” [5] – este sporită. Faptul se explică prin aceea că, în perioada<br />
paşoptistă şi postpaşoptistă, „în construcţia tramei narative, atât «romanţul» de senzaţie, cât<br />
şi novella melodramatică sau povestirea aventuroasă acceptă, ba chiar cultivă o doză mare<br />
de arbitrar, de neverosimil, supunând-o unui tratament de domesticire” [6] pe gustul<br />
cititorului.<br />
Ca urmare, dus la pierzanie de o femeie malefică, Mărioara, în prima parte a<br />
romanului, protagonistul - care face romanul în calitate de scriitor şi semnatar al scrisorilor<br />
pe care i le trimite companionului său întru ficţiune, un anume B, personaj absent sau autor<br />
ficţionalizat ca personaj absent – va fi recuperat tot printr-o femeie, cea angelică, Zoe, care<br />
l-a iubit dintotdeauna în secret şi care îl protejează din umbră.<br />
Ca o noutate absolută în scriitura romanescă a epocii paşoptiste, procedeul mise en<br />
abîme intervine, la un moment dat, ca instrument de reglaj narativ – anunţă revenirea<br />
morală şi sentimentală a eroului – şi de recuperare programată în însăşi teza romanului, a<br />
acestuia. Este vorba despre un vis în care lui Manoil îi apare Smărăndiţa, care între timp<br />
murise, mustrându-l şi, în acelaşi timp, sintetizând existenţa de până atunci a personajului<br />
masculin / anticipând revenirea lui spectaculoasă la ipostaza pozitivă de la începutul<br />
romanului, îmbunătăţită suplimentar prin acuza nedreaptă de crimă, ca formă de purificare<br />
şi de ispăşire a tuturor greşelilor comise cândva..<br />
2
Iată vorbele Smărăndiţei, în visul lui Manoil:<br />
”Altădată tu erai floarea tinerimei noastre! Patria ta pusesă în tine atâta<br />
speranţă! ... inima ta era tânără şi plină de candoare ca o fecioară; câţi te cunoşteau nu<br />
puteau să se oprească de a te iubi ... iar astăzi, cel mai degrădat om nu s-ar crede stimat<br />
ca să-ţi strângă mâna; cel ce crezuse în talentul tău astăzi roşeşte că a putut avea o<br />
asemine cugetare; inima ta s-a îmbătrânit, s-a degradat şi nu mai poate să bată de acum<br />
înainte decât la fapte nefolositoare! ... pentru ce ai venit în casa aceasta? Vrei să<br />
amăgeşti pe Zoe; pare că roşeşti de a fi singur în felul tău, şi vrei să târăşti în tina în<br />
care te afli tu fiinţa astă tânără şi inocentă! ...”<br />
Cu alte cuvinte, romancierul îşi construieşte personajul pe două paliere distincte şi<br />
perfect opozabile, am zice izomorf opozabile. Primul Manoil este eroul romantic pozitiv<br />
prototipal: „suflet pur, cinstit, fire sensibilă, bănuitoare, înclinat spre melancolie şi<br />
pesimism, dezgustat de viaţă”. Dacă acest Manoil este animat de un „patriotism ardent”,<br />
conform comandamentelor epocii şi cu certe „sentimente demofile” [7], cel de al doilea este<br />
un depravat cinic – după modelul personajului Alexandru C., cu care construieşte o<br />
desăvâsşită antiteză romantică, în prima parte a romanului.<br />
Scrisorile acestui Manoil transformat fac posibilă o prezentare – în grila realismului<br />
francez, contaminată, şi de această dată, cu certe elemente de recuzită romantică şi<br />
sentimental – melodramatică – a decăderii aristocraţiei de rasă, în perioada de tranziţie de<br />
după 1850, concomitent cu ascensiunea aristocraţiei banului şi cu extinderea progresivă a<br />
fenomenului parvenitismului:<br />
„M-am aruncat în braţele tuturor dezmierdărilor – cei mai frumoşi cai albioni au<br />
avut onoarea să plimbe persoana mea pe cel mai frumoase strade ale cetăţilor italiene;<br />
vinul cel mai scump, bucatele cele mai rari au împodobit masa mea şi au îmbuibat<br />
stomahul meu, cele mai graţioase copile ale lui Pafos au încununat fruntea mea de flori<br />
şi de sărutări. Apoi dacă trebuie să-ţi spun şi aceasta, am stricat mai multe măritişe<br />
nepotrivite, ceea ce nu este un mic serviciu pentru umanitate”; „m-am convins că<br />
patriotismul este numai o fanfaronadă la cei mai mulţi; sau de nu, un egoism între mai<br />
mulţi indivizi. Acolo unde mi-e bine şi acolo unde-mi place, acolo este patria mea, şi este<br />
de prisos ca s-o iubesc, căci ea poate exista şi fără iubirea mea”; „cel întâi lucru ce am<br />
făcut, ajungând în Bucureşti, a fost să întreb dacă se fac mari pierderi în cărţi. Mi s-a<br />
răspuns că se perd pe seară şi până la cinci mii ducaţi. Vestea aceasta m-a mai împăcat<br />
cu patria.”<br />
Însă, în intenţia autorului, transferată în mesajul străveziu al finalului romanului,<br />
Manoil este doar „un suflet nobil cari a scăpat o clipă hăţurile”, căci „iluzia eticistă<br />
contează mai mult în acest realism decât adevărul”, iar manipularea personajului este, din<br />
acest punct de vedere, „simplă şi străvezie.” [8]<br />
Adăugând aici „tema scrisului” şi „imaginea literaturii naţionale”, a cărei realitate<br />
„se mută în plină ficţiune romanescă” [9] – Bolintineanu însuşi este citat de protagonist<br />
într-una dintre scenele petrecute în salonul Smărăndiţei - imaginea acestui roman al<br />
începuturilor literaturii române este, în datele ei esenţiale, deplină.<br />
Potrivit opiniei - clasicizate deja – a unuia dintre exegeţii literaturii create de<br />
Bolintineanu, romanul Manoil este „deficient din punct de vedere compoziţional, al creării<br />
3
şi individualizării personajelor”, dar „ e interesant ca atmosferă.” [10]<br />
Note<br />
[1]. Dimitrie Păcurariu, Bolintineanu, Ed. petru Literatură, 1962, p. 82<br />
[2 . ] Nicolae Manolescu, Arca lui Noe, vol. I, Ed. Minerva, Bucureşti, 1980, p. 83<br />
[3]. Toate fragmentele din romanul Manoil au fost extrase din ediţia Dimitrie Bolintineanu, Manoil. Elena,<br />
Ed. Minerva, Bucureşti, 1988.<br />
[4]. Idem, pp. 84 - 85<br />
[5]. Liviu Papadima, Literatură şi comunicare. Relaţia autor – cititor în literatura paşoptistă şi<br />
postpaşoptistă, Polirom, 1999, p. 167<br />
[6]. Ibidem<br />
[7]. Dimitrie Păcurariu, op. cit., p. 82<br />
[8]. Nicolae Manolescu, op. cit., p. 87<br />
[9]. Andrei Bodiu, 7 teme ale romanului postpaşoptist, Ed. Paralela 45, 2002, p. 170<br />
[10]. Dimitrie Păcurariu, op. cit., p. 82<br />
Referinţe<br />
Bodiu, A. (2002). 7 teme ale romanului postpaşoptist, Piteşti: Ed. Paralela 45<br />
Bolintineanu, D (1988). Manoil. Elena, Bucureşti: Ed. Minerva<br />
Manolescu, N (1980). Arca lui Noe, vol. I, Bucureşti: Ed. Minerva<br />
Papadima, L (1999). Literatură şi comunicare. Relaţia autor – cititor în literatura paşoptistă şi<br />
postpaşoptistă, Bucureşti: Polirom<br />
Păcurariu, D (1962). Bolintineanu, Bucureşti: Ed. pentru Literatură<br />
Abstract<br />
The novel appears and develops in the Romanian literature after the year 1848 through the<br />
assimilation of western models, especially those from the French literature and through the<br />
juxtaposition of elements belongong to the romantic convention of the genre – epistolary novel,<br />
sentimental novel, mystery novel – and the elements peculiar to to the convention of Balzacian or<br />
Stendhelian realism. Dimitrie Bolintineanu’s Manoil contributes the features of the literary prose<br />
of the epoch, i.e., the poetism and the lyrical enunciation as well as the ethical thesis of the novel.<br />
Résumé<br />
Après l’époque de 1848, le roman apparaît et se développe dans la littérature roumaine par<br />
l’assimilation d’une série de modèles occidentaux, particulièrement de la littérature française, et<br />
par la combinaison des éléments appartenant à la convention romantique du genre – le roman<br />
épistolaire, le roman sentimental, le roman de mystères – avec des éléments spécifiques à la<br />
convention du réalisme balzacien ou stendhalien. A tout ça, le roman de Dimitrie Bolintineanu,<br />
Manoil, ajoute les particularités de la prose littéraire de l’époque. Il s’agit des marques de la<br />
poéticité et de l’énonciation lyrique ainsi que de la thèse éthique du roman.<br />
Rezumat<br />
După epoca paşoptistă romanul apare şi se dezvoltă în literatura română prin asimilarea unei<br />
serii de modele occidentale, mai ales din literatura franceză şi prin combinarea elementelor care<br />
aparţin convenţiilor romantice ale genului – romanul epistolar, romanul sentimental, romanul<br />
misterelor – cu elemente specifice convenţiei realiste balzaciene sau stendhaline. Romanul<br />
Manoil a lui Dimitrie Bolintineanu completează particularităţile prozei literare a epocii mărci<br />
ale poeticităţii şi ale enunţării lirice precum şi teza etică a romanului.<br />
4
Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of GALAŢI<br />
Fascicle XIII. New Series.<br />
Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006<br />
pp. 5 - 8<br />
STILUL „PROVERBIAL”<br />
Doina Marta Bejan<br />
5<br />
Language<br />
and<br />
Literature<br />
„Stilul proverbial” este în majoritatea limbilor naturale consolidat şi conservator,<br />
reprezentând o varaiantă a limbajului popular, fiind considerat un stil închis. Prin „stil<br />
închis” trebuie să se înţeleagă un ansamblu de particuarităţi de conţinut şi de expresie, finit<br />
şi relativ redus ca număr de elemente specifice, cu structuri fixe de combinare, în care<br />
inovaţiile sub raportul noilor tipare nu sunt, în general, acceptate. De fapt, orice stil<br />
„închis”, cu tipare abstracte, are posibilitatea de a genera, teoretic la infinit, un număr de<br />
<strong>text</strong>e concrete. În limitele tiparelor existente, limba creează mereu structuri frazeologice<br />
care tind să se fixeze, iar multe dintre ele au şansa de a deveni proverbe dacă, pe lângă<br />
condiţiile lingvistice, necesare în primul rând, vor ajunge să le satisfacă şi pe cele<br />
extralingvistice reunite sub termenul „tradiţie”.<br />
Din perspectivă structurală, „tiparele proverbiale” formate şi consacrate în limbajul<br />
popular s-au putut extinde şi în alte variante ale limbii, în speţă limba literară (care acceptă<br />
includerea de <strong>text</strong>e şi de tipare proverbiale).Deşi „stilul proverbial” este „închis”, corpusul<br />
de <strong>text</strong>e este în permanenţă „deschis”, deoarece modelele (tiparele) proverbiale sunt atât de<br />
evidente şi de productive, încât s-ar putea „vorbi de o adevărată competenţă şi performanţă<br />
paremiologică la vorbitorii unei limbi” (Tabarcea, 1982: 52). Structura limbii furnizează<br />
elemente pentru realizarea performanţei proverbiale. Potenţial, proverbul există în orice<br />
frază care îndeplineşte anumite condiţii. Mulţi creatori au intuit acest fapt, iar cultura<br />
română cunoaşte cazul tipic al lui Cilibi Moise, creator de pilde, maxime şi aforisme, care<br />
a lansat în circulaţie sute de <strong>text</strong>e paremiologice modelate după cele existente, bazându-se<br />
pe specularea unor caracteristici ale structurii limbii: Acela care deosebeşte om de om nu<br />
este om (aici se valorifică polisemia cuvântului om, dar trebuie să se aibă în vedere şi<br />
modelele Omul e om sau Om la om nădejde trage). I.L.Caragiale îl pune pe celebrul<br />
personaj Mitică să creeze aforisme după model proverbial: „Ţi-ai cumpărat o blană nouă.<br />
Te întâlneşti cu Mitică. În loc de s-o porţi sănătos! îţi zice: Bravos! Blană ai, acum junghi<br />
îţi mai trebuie!”; Mitică, în compania unei amice, aşteaptă să treacă tramvaiul, şi tramvaiul<br />
nu mai trece. „– Ah! domnişoară, toate trec în lumea aceasta, numai tramvaiul nu trece.”<br />
(apud Tabarcea, 1982: 53).<br />
În limbajul presei (şi în limbajul publicitar, astăzi) s-a manifestat o tendinţă vădită<br />
spre „proverbializare” încă din secolul al XIX-lea, prezenţa locuţiunilor şi proverbelor<br />
fiind apreciată ca o apropiere a stilului publicistic de limba vorbită (Andriescu, 1979: !58 –<br />
162). Sesizarea intuitivă a trăsăturilor formale ale proverbului, utilizat ca mijloc de<br />
persuasiune şi de atragere a atenţiei publicului totodată, a putut favoriza tendinţa creativă<br />
în materie de proverbe. Mai ales „titlurile unor articole de presă sunt formulate proverbial<br />
(înţelegându-se prin aceasta atât un model preexistent, imitat, cât şi crearea de tipare noi),<br />
urmărindu-se o anume startegie în scopul captării receptorului.” (Tabarcea, 1982: 55).Se<br />
utilizează titluri alcătuite din:
-citarea de proverbe: Una caldă, alta rece (Revista 22, XVIII,nr.12, 20–26 martie<br />
2007);<br />
-combinarea proverbelor, cu obţinerea efectelor ironice: Minciuna are picoare<br />
scurte şi totuşi, uneori, adevărul şchioapătă sau Ţara arde, dar nu se predă<br />
(www.adevărul.ro);<br />
- modelalarea pe tipare paremiologice a unor adevărate variante: La aşa ştiri, aşa<br />
public) (Dilema veche, III,nr.109, 24 feb. – 2 mart. 2006, p.3) – recunoaştem modelul : La<br />
aşa stăpân, aşa slugă; exemplele care urmează se regăsesc în <strong>text</strong>ul articolului:<br />
Maculatura rămâne tot maculatură, fie că e finanţată cu bani de stat, precum „Era<br />
socialistă”, fie cu bani privaţi. (România literară, nr. 14/7 aprilie 2006) – modelul este<br />
evident Prostu-i prost , nu ai ce-i face; un alt exemplu: Într-o abordare strict instituţională<br />
(cât de firească, în fond!) „dosarul” statuii lui Caragiale ar fi riscat să zacă şi să se<br />
prăfuiască în vreun dulap la Ministerul Culturii, lăsându-ne tuturor, mai mult ca sigur,<br />
gustul amar al inutilităţii... Aşa cum de atâtea ori s-a întâmplat, se întâmplă şi se va<br />
întâmpla căci, vorba Maestrului – încă de la 1894: Reforma trece, năravurile rămân!<br />
(Dilema veche, III,nr.109, 24 feb. – 2 mart. 2006, p.21) recunoaştem modelul Apa trece,<br />
pietrele rămân;<br />
- substituirea unui cuvânt sau adăugarea unor determinanţi inexistenţi în <strong>text</strong>ul<br />
atestat al proverbului, ajungându-se la variante provenite prin modificarea structurii<br />
proverbului: Câte bordeluri, atâtea obiceiuri (Dilema veche, II, nr.87, 16. – 22 septembrie<br />
2005, p.1), în care se recunoaşte proverbul Câte bordeie, atâtea obiceie; Laptele neprins,<br />
negustor cinstit (www.adevărul.ro); Nimeni nu e mai presus de care lege? (Dilema veche,<br />
III, nr.109, 24 feb. – 2 mart. 2006, p.4);<br />
- fragmentarea proverbului în titlu, articolul respectiv fiind, prin conţinut,<br />
dezvoltarea părţii care lipseşte din proverbul titlu: Cu un ochi mă bucur....<br />
....dar cu celălalt plâng.. (Dilema veche, III,nr.109, 24 feb. – 2 mart. 2006, p.21)<strong>text</strong>ul<br />
articolului despre reamplasarea satuiei dramaturgului I.L.Caragiale în peisajul<br />
capitalei, începe chiar cu continuarea proverbului;<br />
- combinarea de procedee, la fragmentarea proverbului adăugându-se o „replică”,<br />
situaţie des întâlnită şi în corpus: Cu un ochi mă bucur....<br />
....dar cu celălalt plâng. Şi vă garantez că n-ar fi cu putinţă altfel. Cutez chiar a<br />
spune că, dacă aş avea patru ochi, unul singur şi-ar permite să râdă, iar ceilalţi trei şi-ar<br />
lăcrima tristeţea... mai departe. (Dilema veche, III,nr.109, 24 feb. – 2 mart. 2006, p.21).<br />
Un alt exemplu: La pomul lăudat...<br />
De data asta, la pomul lăudat merită să mergi cu un sac mare, pentru că fiecare<br />
va găsi cu ce să-l umple. N-au rămas prea multe documente în legătură cu Pomul Verde,<br />
primul teatru de limba idiş din lume, înfiinţat de Avram Goldfaden la Iaşi, în 1878.<br />
(România literară, nr. 7/22 – 28 februarie 2006) – dezvoltarea titlului contrazice forma<br />
cunoscută a proverbului:La pomul lăudat să nu mergi cu sacul.<br />
Prin astfel de procedee se realizează nu numai utilizarea proverbelor în discursuri<br />
de diverse tipuri, dar şi creaţii de elemente noi. Exemplele de mai sus, la care s-ar mai<br />
putea adăuga multe altele, sunt suficiente pentru a demonstra „atât capacitatea<br />
performativă a tiparelor proverbiale,cât şi expansiunea proverbului din varianta în care<br />
structural şi cronologic a luat naştere”. (Tabarcea, 1982: 55).<br />
Cu toate acestea, rămân cu statut de proverbe numai acele <strong>text</strong>e care îndeplinesc<br />
cerinţele „stilului proverbial”, formulate de Cezar Tabarcea (1982:83 – 84), şi anume:<br />
- Proverbul este un enunţ lingvistic, adică o secvenţă fonică limitată prin pauze şi<br />
caracterizată printr-un contur intonaţional, care poartă o anumită informaţie semantică,<br />
fiind deci o comunicare.<br />
6
- Proverbul cuprinde în formularea sa o structură logico semantică particulară, fixă.<br />
Operând orice modificare a aceteia (substituiri, permutări), enunţul respectiv nu mai este<br />
recunoscut ca proverb, ci este perceput ca un „joc verbal”.<br />
- Proverbul este o expresie recurentă (o „izolare”) a cărei apariţie în discurs este<br />
marcată prin elemente segmentale specializate cu rolul de a schimba planul de referinţă,<br />
sau prin procedee suprasegmentale: pauze semnificative, intonaţii specifice; intră aici toate<br />
„mărcile introductive” ale proverbului, care semnalizează receptorului introducerea unei<br />
secvenţe deosebite faţă de enunţul care formează macro-<strong>text</strong>ul.<br />
- În momentul enunţării sale, proverbul se referă metaforic la o situaţie (concretă<br />
sau transpusă într-un enunţ lingvistic). În afara enunţării propriu-zise, el denumeşte şi<br />
defineşte o clasă de împrejurări concrete, folosind trăsăturile acestora extrase prin<br />
generalizare, pe care le lexicalizează şi înglobează în expresia sa. Interpretarea denotativă a<br />
enunţului proverb sau absenţa mărcilor introductive dezorganizează întreaga semantică a<br />
discursului în care proverbul se intercalează şi are ca efect redundanţe nefuncţionale.(În<br />
proverbe se regăsesc toate figurile de stil pe care retoricile le enumeră în mod curent.)<br />
În lucrarea citată (Tabarcea, 1982: 205) se atrage atenţia asupra faptului că<br />
proverbele pot apărea fără a perturba comunicarea în <strong>text</strong>e aparţinând diverselor stiluri<br />
funcţionale, pentru că autorii recurg la anumite „strategii” din dorinţa de a-şi câştiga<br />
publicul. Prezenţa proverbului în diverse tipuri de comunicare, în diverse limbaje este<br />
posibilă dacă se acceptă conţinutul şi funcţia practică a acestuia.<br />
Concepţia modernă asupra stilurilor funcţionale nu mai impune necesitatea unui stil<br />
„pur”, iar introducerea conceptului de „idiostil” care „nu poate exista decât în măsura în<br />
care include măcar două limbaje diferite” (Coteanu,1975:81), elimină această condiţie; în<br />
timp ce retorica tradiţională presupune poziţia emiţătorului numai ca reprezentant al unui<br />
stil dat, pre-existent şi normat, stilistica funcţională, pornind de la distincţia langue/parole,<br />
vede la vorbitor un proces de codificare pe baza cunoaşterii întregului sistem al limbii. Ca<br />
urmare, proverbul poate fi considerat ca element al unui idiostil, ceea ce înlătură<br />
necesitatea unui domeniu specific pe care ar trebui să-l acopere stilul proverbial, stil care<br />
poate fi prezent la orice vorbitor şi în orice domeniu de activitate.<br />
Bibliografie<br />
Andriescu, Al., (1979), Limba presei româneşti în secolul al XIX-lea, Editura Junimea, Iaşi<br />
Coteanu, Ion, (1973), Stilistica funcţională a limbii române. Stil,stilistică, limbaj, Editura Academiei R.S.R.,<br />
Bucureşti<br />
Ruxăndoiu, Pavel, (1966), „Aspectul metaforic al proverbelor”, în Studii de poetică şi stilistică, Bucureşti<br />
Tabarcea, Cezar, (1982), Poetica proverbului, Editura Minerva, Bucureşti<br />
Abstract<br />
A proverb is, first of all, an act of language. The creation of the proverb-<strong>text</strong> is related<br />
to the existence of ’proverbial patterns’, which allows for the extension of their usage<br />
from the colloquial and familiar styles, in the journalistic jargon, in advertising slogans<br />
and in the work of certain writers. Based on these aspects one can speak of a ”closed”<br />
proverbial style, but with an ”overt” corpus which the current paper approaches.<br />
Résumé<br />
Avant toute autre chose, le proverbe est un acte de langage. La création d’un<br />
proverbe-<strong>text</strong> est liée de l’existence des‚ modèles proverbiales qui assurent l’extension<br />
de leurs utilisation du style colloquial au style familier, l’argot journalier, des formules<br />
publicitaires et dans l’oeuvre de certains auteurs. En vertu de ces aspects on peut<br />
parler d’un style proverbial „ferme”, mais avec un corpus „ouvert” que l’article vient<br />
d’illustrer.<br />
7
Rezumat<br />
Proverbul este, înainte de orice, un fapt de limbă. Apariţia <strong>text</strong>ului-proverb este legată<br />
de existenţa unor „tipare proverbiale”, ceea ce permite extinderea folosirii lor din limbajul<br />
popular familiar, în limbajul jurnalistic, în sloganurile publicitare şi în opera anumitor scriitori.<br />
În virtutea acestor aspecte se poate vorbi de un stil proverbial „închis”, dar cu un corpus<br />
„deschis”, pe care articolul de faţă îl ilustrează.<br />
8
Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of GALAŢI<br />
Fascicle XIII. New Series.<br />
Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006<br />
pp. 9 - 13<br />
K. ISHIGURO’S THE REMAINS OF THE DAY:<br />
FOREGROUNDING AND OPENNESS OF MEANING<br />
Introduction: On figure and ground<br />
Ruxanda Bontilă<br />
9<br />
Language<br />
and<br />
Literature<br />
It is common knowledge that the notion of figure and ground is a central concept in<br />
cognitive linguistics, which also means that it has been used to develop a detailed<br />
grammatical framework for close analysis, as well as very abstract ideas across whole<br />
discourses (see van Peer, 1993; also Short, 1996; also Stockwell, 2002 and 2003). It is also<br />
acknowledged that the phenomenon of figure and ground relates to the literary critical<br />
notion of foregrounding. The latter refers to how we perceive certain aspects of literary<br />
<strong>text</strong>s as being conspicuously more important or salient than others. This is being achieved<br />
at <strong>text</strong>ual level by such devices as repetition, unusual naming, innovative descriptions,<br />
creative syntactic ordering, puns, rhyme, the use of creative metaphor, and so on. These<br />
devices are meant as attention attractors to some element, foregrounding it against the<br />
relief of the rest of the features of the <strong>text</strong>. The principles of prominence and newness work<br />
towards focusing attention on a particular feature/ character/ setting, within the <strong>text</strong>ual<br />
space. According to Stockwell, there is a dynamic relationship between the processes of<br />
figuring and grounding, as elements of the <strong>text</strong> are thrown into relief in the course of<br />
reading or actualising the <strong>text</strong>. By a constant renewal of the figure and ground relationship,<br />
the <strong>text</strong> works against the inhibition of return, i.e. the loss of attention to static or<br />
unchanging elements (2002: 14-19). Still, we also think that any description of a <strong>text</strong> is<br />
one’s personal option of choosing out of a multitude of details and <strong>text</strong>ual<br />
interrelationships those that have been placed in the foreground of the <strong>text</strong> itself. We<br />
consider that a <strong>text</strong> can be unlocked with the key offered by the interplay of emphases<br />
amongst its parts and partial elements. This can become a guarantee of one successful<br />
decoding from the part of the reader that will make him go on reading the <strong>text</strong>. That is why<br />
our argument is meant to prove that the constant interplay at any given moment between<br />
openness of meaning and strategies of foregrounding represents a vital aspect of <strong>text</strong>uality.<br />
Much debate has been given to the theory of foregrounding since its<br />
conceptualisation by the Russian Formalists and Prague Structuralists. Subsequently, it has<br />
developed into a systematic coherent theory with immediate relevance for the literary <strong>text</strong>s<br />
by describing the linguistic mechanisms involved in concrete cases of foregrounding.<br />
Willie van Peer focuses in his study on foregrounding, upon the central<br />
characteristic of this notion, namely “the characteristics, typically encountered in literary<br />
<strong>text</strong>s of deviating from rules and habits, while at the same time displaying unusual<br />
regularity through partial repetition” (1993: 50), that is both deviance and parallelism. The<br />
former device refers to “deviation” as introduced in a <strong>text</strong> through neologisms, archaisms,<br />
metaphors, paradox, and hyperbaton – functioning as a disruption to the linguistic<br />
expectations we approach a <strong>text</strong> with. The latter device refers to “parallelism” such as<br />
syntactic symmetry, doublets, ellipsis, and semantic contrast – functioning as
einforcement due to the degree of extra regularity brought in by means of repeated<br />
elements.<br />
Foregrounding may occur at any level: phonological, grammatical, semantic and<br />
pragmatic. In each case, the effect is one of “heightened psychological attention” (Peer,<br />
1993: 50) as a particular referent is established in the foreground of consciousness while<br />
other discourse referents remain in the background.<br />
Hopper and Thomson have argued that foregrounded clauses are high in<br />
“transitivity, a complex notion involving verb tense or aspect, the number of participants in<br />
the clause and their case roles as well as other grammatical factors” (qtd. in Brown, 1983:<br />
165).<br />
We certainly do not profess that the reader should be baffled by theories and<br />
concepts to highlight her/his awareness of the <strong>text</strong>, since any moment in a <strong>text</strong> beyond the<br />
immediate beginning and close, can and must be read both prospectively and<br />
retrospectively.<br />
However, it remains for us to prove that even beginnings tend to be open and to<br />
indicate significant emphases. This is readily apparent with the opening paragraph of K.<br />
Ishiguro’s novel The Remains of the Day — the winner of the 1989 Booker Prize.<br />
Foregrounding and <strong>text</strong>ual interrelationships: an exemplary beginning<br />
Our argument intends to demonstrate how through a technique of foreshadowing, the<br />
thematic hypersignification of the novel’s larger discourse discloses itself from the very<br />
first paragraph. In other words we will try to highlight how the very beginning of the novel<br />
may suggest the outcome of the novel, thus ensuring the structural and thematic unity of<br />
the whole.<br />
It seems increasingly likely that I really will undertake the expedition that has been<br />
preoccupying my imagination now for some days. (1) An expedition, I should say, which I<br />
will undertake alone, in the comfort of Mr. Farraday’s Ford; an expedition which, as I<br />
foresee it, will take me through much of the finest countryside of England to the West<br />
Country, and may keep me away from Darlington Hall for as much as five or six days. (2)<br />
The idea of such a journey came about, I should point out, from a most kind suggestion put<br />
to me by Mr Farraday himself one afternoon almost a fortnight ago, when I had been<br />
dusting the portraits in the library. (3) In fact, as I recall, I was up on the step-ladder<br />
dusting the portrait of Viscount Wetherby when my employer had entered carrying a few<br />
volumes which he presumably wished returned to the shelves. (4) On seeing my person, he<br />
took the opportunity to inform me that he had just that moment finalised plans to return to<br />
the United States for a period of five weeks between August and September. (5) Having<br />
made this announcement, my employer put his volumes down on a table, seated himself on<br />
the chaise longue, and stretched out his legs. (6) It was then, gazing up at me, that he said:<br />
[...] (7) (Ishiguro, 1989: 3).<br />
The “turbulence as immense as it is slow” (Rushdie, 1991: 34) lying below the<br />
understatement of the novel’s surface is envisaged through a masterful handling of<br />
foregrounding strategies. The very first extraposition of a clausal subject in the opening<br />
line signals a brilliant subversion of the fictional modes to which the novel seems to align.<br />
It further signals that the novel’s larger discourse will move back to a previous point in<br />
time to attempt to explain this present moment. The formal stiffness and stillness<br />
introduced through the phrase “It seems increasingly likely” (1) will become crucial both<br />
for understanding the narrator – narratee relationship and the major theme of the novel.<br />
10
The existence of two subjects, which we may identify as the postponed subject (the<br />
clause which is notionly the subject of the sentence) and the anticipatory subject (“it”)<br />
pinpoints the coexistence of an experiencing mode and an observing mode within the<br />
narrative voice, the “I” – speaker, which is both narrator and participant.<br />
The objectifying of the first person narrator through language on the syntagmatic axis<br />
[”my imagination” (1); “I will undertake alone”; “it will take me”; “may keep me away”<br />
(2); “suggestion put to me (3); “my employer” (4); “my person”; “to inform me” (5); “my<br />
employer” (6); “gazing at me” (7) ] is also apparent in the way the writer makes the<br />
speaker relate his own centre to the surrounding cognitive environment. This is controlled<br />
through a range of deictic elements encoding the spatio – temporal con<strong>text</strong> and subjective<br />
experience of the encoder. The way mental proximity and distance is deictically encoded in<br />
the discourse event is another instance of foregrounding both grammatically and lexically<br />
[“the expedition” (1); “An expedition” (2); “now for some days” (1); “as I foresee it” (2);<br />
“The idea of such a journey” (3); “one afternoon almost a fortnight ago” (3); “On seeing”<br />
(5); “he had just that moment finalised” (5); “a period of five weeks” (5); “It was then”<br />
(7)].<br />
The choice of words on the paradigmatic axis is also significant to the purpose of<br />
foreshadowing the central theme of the novel: the dichotomy appearance / reality, seeming<br />
/ being, extrapolated from the real story of a man (Stevens, a butler well past his prime)<br />
destroyed by his own ideas upon which he has built his life, to the more serious issue of the<br />
end or at least passing of a certain kind of Britain and Englishness. The word “expedition”<br />
(1, 2), carries a connotation (exploration, warfare, purpose) which through foregrounding<br />
is immediately brought to the reader’s awareness; “journey” (3), its extensive doublet<br />
deters the former word’s meaning from becoming too conspicuous, exactly as all the big<br />
questions “preoccupying” the hero’s mind are deterred from getting the answers the hero<br />
feels his duty to give. The word “imagination” (1) is an instance of semantic contrast on<br />
the paradigmatic axis which together with the semantic charge embedded in the process<br />
verb “undertake” (1, 2) will point to the time and space of the action. Moreover, the right-<br />
branching of the foregrounded sentences beginning with the complement “expedition” (2),<br />
preceded by the indefinite article with anaphoric function could also be regarded like a<br />
deictic element in the multitude of <strong>text</strong>ual interrelationships.<br />
The complexities of modality, both epistemic and deontic are carried out at both<br />
paradigmatic and syntagmatic levels. At the paradigmatic level, through the choice of<br />
words pertaining to modality [“seems increasingly likely” (1); “really”; “will” (1); “should<br />
say”; “will”; “will” “may” (2); “should” (3); “presumably” ; “wished” (4)]. At the<br />
syntagmatic level, the interruptions caused in discourse through apparently overformal<br />
asides carry that supplementary deictic function of sharing experience, negotiating<br />
meaning between narrator and reader [“I should say” (2); “as I foresee it” (2); “I should<br />
point out” (3); “as I recall” (4)]. Further more, they ensure the coherence of the discourse,<br />
trapping the reader into a more active and imaginative engagement with the <strong>text</strong>, due to<br />
more implicit cohesive ties. The so far achieved congruence of the <strong>text</strong> is also a modality<br />
of increasing awareness as to the understatement of a perfectly smooth, not-important-type<br />
of narration.<br />
The more immobile everything looks, the more devastating it is perceived by the<br />
experiencing narrator. The “time-hallowed bonds between master and servant, and the<br />
codes by which both live, are no longer dependable absolutes but rather sources of ruinous<br />
self deceptions,” opinions Rushdie (1991: 37).<br />
11
Alongside with such cohesive devices as substitutions, repetitions, embedding, there are<br />
more overt connections used at the syntagmatic level: subordination [“that” (1); “which”<br />
(2); “when” (3, 4); “On seeing” (5); “Having made” (6)]; or conjuncts, “In fact” (4),<br />
indicating the connection between what is being said and what was said before.<br />
Regarding the value of tense and aspect they may have relevance when speaking about<br />
coding time, content time and receiving time, but most of all with a view to foreshadowing<br />
the hypersignification of the larger discourse.<br />
The staccato rhythm imposed by the paradigmatic choices as well as the hyperbaton<br />
cause – effect phenomenon of foregrounding, is also relevant for the <strong>text</strong>ual<br />
interrelationships.<br />
As “Still (or smooth) waters run deep”, there is a lot the reader has to ask himself after<br />
the first paragraph of the novel: Who is the “I” unfolding so neatly and conscientiously the<br />
ideas “preoccupying” his “imagination”? What is the real nature of “the expedition” which<br />
is thrown into focus by the anaphoric and cataphoric “It” beginning the sentence? Who is<br />
Mr. Farraday in whose Ford the speaker will undertake the expedition alone? What is their<br />
relationship? What does “Darlington Hall” represent to the narrator that he may feel kept<br />
away from it, be it only for five or six days? Why does the narrator have to foresee the<br />
finest countryside of England?<br />
The verb tenses recede one by one into the past [“seems”; “will undertake”; “has been<br />
preoccupying”; “came”; “had been dusting”; “was”; “had entered”; “took the opportunity”;<br />
“had finalized”; “put”; “; “seated” “stretched”; “said”], inverting <strong>text</strong> order and story order<br />
and suggesting a sequence of conflicts prior to the present time temporal adverb “now”<br />
from sentence one.<br />
All these details on both paradigmatic and syntagmatic axes are meant to open<br />
discourse up towards story and hypersignification, highlighting ways of opening meaning<br />
within the novel.<br />
Concluding remarks<br />
“You see, I trusted [...]. I can’t even say I made my own mistakes. Really— one has to ask<br />
oneself — what dignity is there in that?” (Ishiguro, 1989: 243)<br />
Is our argument together with the expedition, intensively and extensively foregrounded<br />
by the author, to acquire the same cruelly beautiful question/ answer conclusion?<br />
The point is that we tried to show how Kazuo Ishiguro through an apparently obscuring<br />
surface, manages to disclose a complex of attitudes and emotions, thus opening meaning<br />
through technique; how through congruence amongst paradigmatic choices and<br />
syntagmatic and grammatical cohesion the author manages at once to conceal and disclose<br />
the implicit relationship between fallible narrator and self-deceptive narrate.<br />
References<br />
Brown, G. (1983). Discourse Analysis, Cambridge University Press.<br />
Ishiguro, K. (1989). The Remains of the Day, London, Boston: Faber and Faber.<br />
Peer, W. van (1993). Typographic Foregrounding, Language and Literature, 2/1, 49-61.<br />
Rushdie, S. (1991). Imaginary Homelands. Essays and Criticism 1981-199, London: Granta Books.<br />
Short, M. (1996) Exploring the Language of Poems, Plays and Prose, London: Longman.<br />
Stockwell, P. (2002). Cognitive Poetics, London, New York: Routledge.<br />
Stockwell, P. (2003). Surreal figures. In Gavins, J. and G. Steen (eds.), Cognitive poetics in practice, (pp. 13-<br />
27), London, New York: Routledge.<br />
12
Abstract<br />
In what concerns the literary <strong>text</strong>, the renewal of the dynamics of stylistic markers, the so-called<br />
attractors, represents the key to focusing the reader’s attention and hindering the inhibition of<br />
return (Stockwell, 2002). What we used to call “literary competence” has become, according to<br />
the cognitive poeticians, experimental learning of competency and assuming control over the way<br />
in which the reader’s attention in the <strong>text</strong>ual game between figuring and grounding is being<br />
achieved. Our present argument centers on how foregrounding strategies contributing to<br />
literariness are inductive of narrative hypersignification too.<br />
Résumé<br />
Dans le cas du <strong>text</strong>e littéraire, le renouvèlement de la dynamique des particularités stylistiques,<br />
ce qu’on appelle attracteurs (Stockwell, 2002), représente la clef du succès dans la focalisation<br />
de l’attention du lecteur et l’inhibition de la défocalisation. Ce qu’on appelait traditionnellement<br />
« compétence littéraire », les poètes cognitivistes appellent aujourd’hui apprentissage<br />
expérimental de la compétence et contrôle sur la manière de focalisation de l’attention dans le<br />
jeu <strong>text</strong>uel entre figure et arrière-plan. Notre travail se propose de démontrer que les stratégies<br />
de mise en évidence (foregrounding, ayant comme effet l’induction de la littérarité, aident à la<br />
construction de l’hypersignification roumaine.<br />
Rezumat<br />
În cazul <strong>text</strong>ului literar, reînnoirea dinamicii particularităţilor stilistice, aşa numiţii atractori<br />
(Stockwell, 2002), reprezintă cheia succesului în focalizarea atenţiei lectorului şi inhibarea<br />
defocalizării. Ceea ce tradiţional se numea „competenţă literară”, poeticienii cognitivişti numesc<br />
acum învăţare experimentală a competenţei dar şi control asupra modului de focalizare a atenţiei<br />
în jocul <strong>text</strong>ual între figură şi fundal. Demonstratia noastră îşi propune să dovedeasca că<br />
strategiile de evidenţiere (foregrounding) ce au ca efect inducerea literarităţii ajută la<br />
construirea hipersemnificaţiei romaneşti.<br />
13
Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of GALAŢI<br />
Fascicle XIII. New Series.<br />
Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006<br />
pp. 14 - 22<br />
HUMOR UND KATEGORISIERUNG<br />
Raluca Bourceanu<br />
14<br />
Language<br />
and<br />
Literature<br />
I. Bedeutungsaufbau in der kongnitiven Semantik<br />
Auggangspunkt jedes Versuchs, erklärende Schemas des Bedeutungsmechanismus zu<br />
entwickeln, ist die Inanspruchnahme der Beziehungen zwischen Sprache und Wirklichkeit.<br />
Die kognitive Linguistik, die als Reaktion gegen das formale Modell der Sprachanalyse<br />
entstanden ist, geht davon aus, dass Sprache Gedankenschnitte widerspiegelt, woraus sich<br />
ergibt, dass Studium von Sprachen Studium von Konzeptualisierungsschnitte heißt.<br />
Während die formale Semantik von der Voraussetzung ausgeht, dass die Grundfunktion<br />
der Sprache die Beschreibung einer objektiven Realität ist und diese Beziehung zwischen<br />
Sprache und Wirklichkeit von den Wahrheitsbediengungen modelliert sein kann, besagt<br />
die kognitive Semantik, dass Sprache an sich keine Bedeutung kodiert. Wörter stellen<br />
demzufolge nur eine Art « Fenster » für die Bedeutungsaufbau dar. Laut dieser Ansicht<br />
wird die Bedeutung auf dem konzeptuellen Niveu aufgebaut, indem Bedeutungsaufbau mit<br />
dem Konzeptualisierungverfahren gleichzusetzen ist.<br />
Man kann sich die Frage stellen, wie kommt es vor, dass wir uns doch in der Welt<br />
zurechtfinden, wenn die Struktur, die Kategorien und Eigenschaften der Sprache keine<br />
Entsprechungen in der Wirklichkeit haben. « By viewing meaning as the relationship<br />
between words and the world, truth-conditional semantics eliminates cognitive<br />
organization from the linguistic system” (Sweester 1990:4). Dagegn begreifen die<br />
Kognitivisten die Bedeutung als Offenbarung einer konzeptuellen Struktur: “Research on<br />
cognitive semantics is research on conceptual content and its organization in language”<br />
(Talmy 2000: 4). Es gibt vier Grundannahmen der kognitiven Semantik hinsichtlich des<br />
Bedeutungsaufbaus, die für unsere Absicht, Sprchhumor durch Kategorienfehler zu<br />
erklären, grundlegend sind. Es geht um die Prinzipien der verkörperten konzeptuellen<br />
Struktur, der Gleichsetzung der semantischen mit der konzeptuellen Struktur, der<br />
enzyklopädischen Bedeutungrepräsentierung und der Annahme, dass Bedeutungsaufbau<br />
Konzeptualisierung heißt.<br />
Bedeutung wird also weder als Eigenschaft indvidueller Aussagen, noch als<br />
einfache Sache deren Interpretation hinsichtlich der Außenwelt betrachtet. Hingegen<br />
entsteht Bedeutung aus einem dynamischen Prozeß des Bedeutungsaufbaus, der<br />
Konzeptualisierung benannt wird. Demzufolge darf Semantik von der Pragmatik nicht<br />
getrennt werden, da auf der einen Seite Bedeutungsaufbau vom Kon<strong>text</strong> der Äußerung<br />
abhängig ist und auf der anderen Seite Bedeutungsaufbau sich auf einigen Mechanismen<br />
der konzeptuellen Projektion (etwa Metapher und Metonymie) stützt. Laut dieser<br />
Einstellung existiert doch die Außenwelt, die Art und Weise aber, wie man sich mental die<br />
Welt vorstellt, hängt direkt mit der verkörperten Erfahrung zusammen. Was zu sagen heißt,<br />
dass Bedeutungsaufbau nicht in Richtung eines ‘matching-up’ der Aussagen mit objektiv<br />
definierbaren ‘states of affairs’ vorangeht, sondern in Richtung der Konzeptualisierung<br />
eines enzyklopädischen Wissens. Man kann daher sagen, dass einerseits die semantische<br />
Struktur die konventionelle Form ist, die die konzeptuelle Struktur beim Einkodieren in die
Sprache einnimmt und, dass sie andererseits einen Gehalt eingelagerten Wissens darstellt,<br />
der durch die Sprache einfach reflektiert wird. Die in die Sprache einkodierten<br />
Bedeutungen sind nur partielle und unvollständige Repräsentierungen der konzeptuellen<br />
Struktur. Während die Repräsentierung dieser Erfahrungen, die unser konzeptuelles<br />
System ausmachen, weniger detaillert als die Wahrnehmungserfahrungen selbst ist, sind<br />
die durch die semantische Struktur einkodierten Repräntationen noch ärmer an Details.<br />
Sprache kodiert doch Bedeutung ein, diese Bedeutung ist aber verarmt und gilt als<br />
‘Fenster’ für den Aufbau von reicheren Konzeptualisierungvorgängen Seite des Hörers:<br />
“Expressions do not mean; they are prompts for us to construct meanings by working with<br />
processes we already known. In no sense is the meaning of an utterance ‘right there in the<br />
words.’ When we understand an utterance, we in no sense are understanding ‘just what the words<br />
say’; the words themselves say nothing independent of the richly detailed knowledge and<br />
powerful cognitive processes we bring to bear.” (Turner, 1991:206)<br />
Bevor wir anhand eines Beispiels die Relevaz der bis hier besprochenen Phänomene<br />
zeigen, ist es wichtig Fauconniers Bedeutungsaufbau-Theorie zu erwähnen, die im engen<br />
Zusammenhang mit der Problematik der Deutbarkeit steht. Laut Fauconnier setzt der<br />
Bedeutungsaufbau zwei Verfahren aus: 1. den Aufbau von ‘mental spaces’; und 2. das<br />
Etablieren von ‘mappings’ zwischen diesen ‘mental spaces’. Fauconnier definiert die<br />
‘mental spaces’ als “partial structures that proliferate when we think and talk, allowing a<br />
fine-grained partitioning of our discourse and knowledge structure” (Fauconnier, 1997:11).<br />
Außerdem werden diese Mapping-Beziehungen vom jeweiligen Kon<strong>text</strong> beeinflußt, was zu<br />
verstehen läßt, dass Bedeutungsaufbau immer kon<strong>text</strong>abhängig ist. Man kann sagen, dass<br />
man eigentlich mit zwei Bedeutungsvarianten zu tun hat. Zum einen geht es um die<br />
konventionelle Bedeutung, die mit einem bestimmten Wort oder einer bestimmten<br />
Konstruktion asoziiert wird (kodierte Bedeutung), zum anderen handelt es sich um die<br />
Bedeutung, die der Kon<strong>text</strong> ausmacht (pragmatische Bedeutung). Da aber Wörter immer<br />
wieder in Kon<strong>text</strong>e hervorkommen, stellt die kodierte Bedeutung eine Idealisierung<br />
aufgrund der prototypischen Bedeutung, die man aus der kon<strong>text</strong>ualisierten Verwendung<br />
der Wörter herauskriegt. Eigentlich schließt die mit den Wörtern assoziierte Bedeutung<br />
immer die pragmatische Bedeutung ein, während kodierte Bedeutung nur eine Bekundung<br />
dieser prototypischen Bedeutung, die aus der Menge der pragmatischen Interpretationen<br />
abstrahiert wird, darstellt.<br />
Zusammenfassend werden wird sagen, dass Sprache das Wahrnehmen voraussetzt<br />
und, dass Wahrnehmen zur Konzeptualisierung führt. Die Sprache setzt also nicht nur<br />
intelligente Wesen, sondern auch einen kognitiven Zugang dieser Wesen zur Welt voraus.<br />
Die sinnliche Wahrnehmung ist es, die die sprachliche Repräsentation ermöglicht, denn<br />
ohne Wahrnehmung gibt es keine Kognition. Die Sprache macht demzufolge von den<br />
kognitiven Leistungen der Wahrnehmung wesentlich Gebrauch, da die Dinge, über die wir<br />
reden, von uns ursprünglich durch die Wahrnehmung ausgemacht und indentifiziert<br />
werden. Die Wahrnehmung liefert uns Informationen über deren Attribute, die wir in der<br />
Sprache festhalten. Wahrnehmungen sind verkörpert, oder anders gesagt ist Sprache<br />
zentriert. Alle Sprechenden sind kompakte Körper, die die umliegende Welt von einem<br />
räumlich sehr begrenzten Standpunkt aus wahrnehmen. Was der Bedeutungsaufbau im<br />
Bezug auf den Kategorisierungsverfahren betrifft, muß man noch hinzufuegen, Searle<br />
folgend, dass, während eine Wahrnehmung etwas präsentiert, die Kategorisierung<br />
repräsentiert. Es handelt sich dabei um die Präsentierung oder die Erfahrung unmittelbarer<br />
Wahrnehmung, die dann auf der Konzeptualisierungsebene zur Repräsentierung der<br />
mittelbaren Kategorisierung führt.<br />
Um zu zeigen, inwieweit dieses kognitive Bedeutungsmodell mit anderen<br />
Bereichen der Kognition übereinstimmend ist und inwieweit es zu einer Humoranalyse<br />
beitragen könnte, werden wir im folgenden ein Beispiel nehmen. Wenn man auf die Frage<br />
15
“Wo ist die Katze” durch “Die Katze ist auf dem Stuhl” antwortet, befinden wir und vor<br />
einem Normalfall, der neutral klingt. Wenn man aber hingegen dieselbe Frage durch “Der<br />
Stuhl ist unter der Katze” beantwortet, wird man bestimmt Humor, wenn nicht Erstaunen<br />
auslösen. Warum sollte denn diese Antwort merkwürdig und witzig klingen? Es ist eine<br />
grammatisch perfekt aufgebaute Aussage. Die Kognitivisten könnten die Sache durch das<br />
Einbeziehen der Ergebnisse der Psychologie erklären. Wir wissen also, dass die Menschen<br />
die Tendenz haben, ihre Aufmerksamkeit auf besimmte Aspekte einer visuellen Buehne zu<br />
fokusieren. Der Blickpunkt, den wir fokusieren, stellt etwas dar, was uns erlaubt,<br />
bestimmte Voraussagen zu formulieren. In unserem Beispiel richten wir unsere<br />
Aufmerksamkeit eher auf die Katze und nicht auf den Stuhl, weil unser Weltwissen sagt<br />
uns, dass es wahrscheinlicher ist, dass die Katze, und nicht der Stuhl, sich bewegen, ein<br />
Geräusch oder irgend etwas machen wird. Man nennt diese hervortretende Entität die<br />
‘Figur’ und den restlichen Teil der Bühne ‘Hintergrund’. Diese Tatsache der menschlichen<br />
Psychologie gibt uns auch eine Erklärung dafür, warum Sprache die Information auf eine<br />
bestimmte Weise einpackt. Ein anderer Aspekt, der auch im kommenden Teil unseres<br />
Aufsatzes wesentlich ist und mit der Problematik der Kategorisierung eng verbunden ist,<br />
wird durch ein anderes Phänomaen erklärt, nämlich durch das ‘profiling’, das uns erlaubt,<br />
Aufmerksamkeit umzuschalten.<br />
II. Kategorisierung<br />
In diesem Teil unserer Arbeit werden wir uns mit der Problematik des<br />
Kategorisierungsverfahren beschäftigen, die eine zentrale Rolle in unserer Humoranalyse<br />
spielt. Kategorisierung entspricht unserer Fähigkeit, Ähnlichkeiten (und Unterschiede)<br />
zwischen verschiedenen Entitäten zu identifizieren uns sie, aufgrund dieses kognitiven<br />
Prozeßes zusammenzubringen. Kategorien sind demzufolge wesentliche Elemente, die sich<br />
an der Organisation unserer Erfahrung beteiligen. Die klassische Forschungsrichtung, die<br />
auf Aristoteles zuräckzuführen ist, geht von der Idee aus, dass Kategorisierung auf der<br />
Basis gemeinsamer Eigenschaften erzeugt wird und, dass die Mitglieder einer Kategorie<br />
die gleichen Merkmale aufweisen. Bevor wir die von Rosch entwickelte Prototyp-Theorie<br />
besprechen, werden wir uns mit der klassischen Ansicht auseinandersetzen, um dann<br />
feststellen zu können, warum sie mit der Realität der kognitiven menschlichen Erfahrung<br />
nicht übereinstimmt.<br />
Die aristotelische Kategorisierung zeichnet sich bekanntlich durch mindestens drei<br />
Merkmale aus: (i) die Zugehörigkeit zu einer Kategorie erfolgt auf der Grundlage von<br />
notwendigen und hinreichenden Kriterien, (ii) jede Kategorie hat klare Grenzen; (iii) jedes<br />
Element einer Kategorie hat denselben Status wie jedes andere. Es gibt mehrere Probleme<br />
mit dieser Theorie, die wir besprechen werden. Auf der einen Seite behauptet sie im Bezug<br />
auf das ertse Merkmal (i), dass Kategorien eine definitorische Struktur zugeschrieben wird,<br />
was in der Wirklichkeit nicht gilt, da es unheimlich schwer ist, präzise Kriterien<br />
herauszufinden, die notwendig und hinreichend bei dem Etablieren einer Kategorie sind.<br />
Es genügt, die berühmte Behauptung Wittgensteins über die Spiele zu erwähnen, um die<br />
inhärente Schwieriegkeit dieses Verfahrens zu zeigen:<br />
“Wir sehen ein kompliziertes Netz von Ähnlichkeiten, die einander übergreifen und kreuzen.<br />
Ähnlichkeiten im Großen und Kleinen. Ich kann diese Ähnlichkeiten nicht besser<br />
charakterisieren, als durch das Wort "Familienähnlichkeiten"; denn so übergreifen und kreuzen<br />
sich die verschiedenen Ähnlichkeiten, die zwischen den Gliedern einer Familie bestehen: Wuchs,<br />
Gesichtszüge, Augenfarbe, Gang, Temperament, etc. etc..–Und ich werde sagen: die ‘Spiele’<br />
bilden eine Familie“.<br />
Rosch und Mervis kondensieren Wittgensteins Gedanken zu folgender schematischen<br />
Form:“A family resemblance relationship consists of a set of items of the form AB, BC,<br />
16
CD, DE. That is, each item has at least one, and probably several, elements in common<br />
with one or more other items, but no, or few, elements are common to all items.” Zweitens<br />
besteht das Problems der klassischen Theorie darin, dass sie die Tatsache voraussetzt, dass<br />
jede Kategorie klare und endgültige Grenzen hat (ii). Bei der Diskussion dieses<br />
Standpunkts muß man immer die Abgrenzung der Volk-Kategorien von den Expert-<br />
Kategorien im Auge halten.Wenn man die Kategorie der ungeraden Zahlen betrachtet,<br />
wird man feststellen, dass diese Kategorie doch klar definierte Grenzen hat. Mitglieder<br />
dieser Kategorie sind jene Zahlen, die nicht (ohne Rest) durch 2 teilbar sind. Das gilt aber<br />
nicht mehr im Bezug auf die Kategorie “Möbel” zum Beispiel, wobei es schwer zu<br />
entscheiden ist, ob sagen wir Teppich dazu gehört oder nicht. Drittens werden die<br />
Schwachheiten dieser Theorie im Bezug auf die letzte Grundannahme sichtbar, die besagt,<br />
dass jeder Mitglieder einer Kategorie mit jedem anderen gleichwertig sei. Dagegen kann<br />
man Armstrong et al. (1983) Experimenten aufrufen, die bewiesen haben, dass sich<br />
sogenannte prototypische Effekte innerhalb einer Kategorie bemerken laßen. Armstrong<br />
stellte fest, das Versuchspersonen gerade und ungerade Zahlen nicht als gleichwertige<br />
Mitglieder der jeweiligen Kategorien bewertet haben, sondern, dass es in beiden Fällen<br />
Prototypen dieser Kategorien gibt. Was die ungeraden Zahlen angeht, wurde 3 als der<br />
repräsentativeste Mitglieder betrachtet, was die geraden Zahlen hingegen betrifft, handelte<br />
es sich um 2 und 4. Aufgrund der Unterscheidung zwischen Volk – und Experts-<br />
Kategorien erklärt Armstrong diese Ergebnisse durch den Zusammenhang zwischen ‘core<br />
definition’ und ‘identification procedure’, wie Osheron und Smith behaupten:<br />
“the core of a concept is concerned with those aspects of a concept that explicate its relations to<br />
other concepts, and to thoughts, while the identification procedure specifies the kind of<br />
information used to make rapid decisions about membership. […] We can illustrate with the<br />
concept woman. Its core might contain information about the presence of a reproductive system,<br />
while its identification procedures might contain information about body shape, hair length, and<br />
voice pitch.” (Osheron and Smith 1981:57).<br />
Obwohl diese Erklärung die klassische Kategorisierungstheorie mit der der<br />
Kategorisierung durch Prototype zu versöhnen scheint, bleibt doch eine Tension zwischen<br />
die prototypischen Effekte der (un)geraden Zahlen und unsere klare Intuition, dass<br />
(un)gerade Zahlen keine vage, sondern eine klar begrenzte Kategorie darstellt. Man könnte<br />
vielleicht das Problem besser lösen, wenn man Langackers Unterschied zwischen<br />
Kategorisierung durch Prototypen und Kategorisierung durch Schemas erwähnt:<br />
“A prototype is a typical instance of a category, and other elements are assimilated to the<br />
category on the basis of their perceived resemblance to the prototype; there are degrees of<br />
membership based on degrees of similarity. A schema, by contrast, is an abstract<br />
characterization that is <strong>full</strong>y compatible with all the members of the category it defines (so<br />
membership is not a matter of degree); it is an integrated structure that embodies the<br />
commonality of its members, which are conceptions of greater specificity and detail that<br />
elaborate the schema in contrasting ways” (Langacker 1987:371).<br />
In den 70en Jahren wurde die klassische Theorie dank den von Rosch geführten<br />
Experimenten und deren Ergebnisse in Frage gestellt. Die Prototyptheorie postuliert, dass<br />
es zwei Grundprinzipien gibt, die die Bildung von Kategorien bestimmen: 1) das Prinzip<br />
der kognitiven Ökonomie und 2) das Prinzip der wahrgenommenen Weltstruktur. Das erste<br />
Prinzip legt fest, dass der Mensch versucht, so viel Information wie möglich über seine<br />
Umgebung zu gewinnen, indem er gleichzeitig seine kognitive Bemühungen und<br />
Ressourcen auf ein Minimum bringt. Diese Kosten-Nutzen- Balance bestimmt den Aufbau<br />
von Kategorien. Anstatt separate Informationen über jeden erfahrenen individuellen<br />
Stimulus abzuspeichern, gruppiert der Mensch ähnliche Stimuli in Kategorien ein. Was das<br />
zweite Prinzip angeht, handelt es sich um die korelationelle Struktur der Welt. Es ist zum<br />
Beispiel eine Tatsache, dass Flügel eher mit Federn und der Fähigkeit zum Fliegen<br />
assoziiert werden, als mit Fell und der Fähigkeit, unter dem Wasser atmen zu können.<br />
17
Diese Annahme postuliert also, dass sich der Mensch auf solcher korelationellen Struktur<br />
stützt, um Kategorien aufbauen und organisieren zu können. Während das eine Prinzip die<br />
Ebene der Angehörigkeit beeinflußt, ist das andere Prinzip für die prototypische Struktur<br />
der Kategorien verantwortlich. Daraus ergibt sich die Tatsache, so Rosch, dass die<br />
strukturelle Organisation der Kategorisierungssystem zwei Dimensionen aufweist: eine<br />
vertikale und eine horizontale. Die vertikale Dimension beinhaltet den Repräsentationsgrad<br />
verschiedener Abstraktionsebenen, wobei die ‚basic levels’ einen von Rosch eingeführten<br />
zentralen Begriff ist, die der höchste Grad an Repräsentativität darstellt. Die horizontale<br />
Dimension hingegen betifft die Zerlegung einer Kategorie auf derselben<br />
Abstraktionsebene. Die Grundannahmen der Prototypenmodells werden von Kleiber<br />
(1993) wie folgend zusammengefasst:<br />
1. Eine Kategorie hat eine prototypische innere Struktur.<br />
2. Der Repräsentativitätsgrad eines Exemplars entspricht dem Grad seiner<br />
Zugehörigkeit zur Kategorie.<br />
3. Die Grenzen zwischen den Kategorien bzw. Begriffen sind unscharf.<br />
4. Die Vertreter einer Kategorie verfügen nicht über Eigenschaften, die allen<br />
Vertretern gemeinsam sind; sie werden durch eine Familienähnlichkeit<br />
zusammengehalten.<br />
5. Die Zugehörigkeit zu einer Kategorie ergibt sich aus dem Grad der Ähnlichkeit<br />
mit dem Prototyp.<br />
6. Über diese Zugehörigkeit wird nicht analytisch, sondern global entschieden.<br />
Diese Ergebnisse stellen den Ausgngspunkt einer von Lakoff bekannten Theorie von<br />
Idealised Cognitive Models (ICMs). ICMs sind relativ stabile mentale Repräsentationen,<br />
die Theorien über die Welt darstellen. Sie sind idealisiert, weil sie Erfahrungen<br />
abstrahieren, anstatt spezifische Instanziierungen einer bestimmten Erfahrung darzustellen.<br />
In diesem Sinne sind sie Fillmores Begriff von ‚frames’ ähnlich, da sie auch komplexe<br />
Wissensstukturen miteinbeziehen. So Putnam: „no language, it is safe to assume, has a<br />
name for a category consisting of just teacups, treacle and loud noises, or similar<br />
heterogeneous collections of things“. (Putnam 1983: 73).<br />
Ausgehend von diesen Bemerkungen, können wir im weiteren aufgrund eines<br />
Beispieles die Relevanz der Prototypentheorie im Bezug auf den Humor probieren, indem<br />
wir mit den bis hier entwickelten theoretischen Instrumenten einen Fall von<br />
Humorproduktion zu analysieren versuchen. In einer seinen Arbeiten stellet sich Fillmore<br />
die Frage, ob der Papst als Junggeselle betrachtet werden kann (Fillmore 1982:34). Wenn<br />
man die Aussage ‚The Pope is a real bachelor’ äußert, löst man bstimmt Humor auf. Wenn<br />
man die Analyse in den von Raskin vorgeschlagenen Rahmen durchführt (Raskin 1985),<br />
würde man sagen, dass man hier mit einer einfachen Skript-Opposition zu tun hat, nämlich<br />
‚geistig’ vs ‚sexuel’. Das einfache Etablieren dieser Opposition erklärt aber das Phänomen<br />
nur auf einer oberflächlichen Ebene, oder ist nur das Endergebniss eines viel komplexeren<br />
kognitiven Verfahrens. Man muß zuerst bemerken, dass, obwohl der Papst die<br />
Eigenschaften eines Junggesellen aufweist, er doch intuitiv eine Grenzinstanz dieser<br />
Kategorie ist. Prototypische Effekte können aber wegen „mismatches between ICMs<br />
against which particular concepts are understood“ (Evans, 2005: 270) vorkommen. Wenn<br />
wir die ICMs betrachten, die den Junggesellen-Begriff bestimmen, schließen sie<br />
Informationen über eine monogame Gesellschaft, die Ehe und ein standard Heiratsalter ein.<br />
Wir haben demzufolge mit einem Zusammenbruch der Hintergrundkategorien, die das<br />
Miteinbeziehn des Papst in die Kategorie der Junggesellen erlaubt hatte.<br />
18
III. Humor und Kategorienfehler<br />
In Michael Jubien (1994) haben wir folgendes Beispiel gefunden, das wir als<br />
Ausgangspunkt dieser Analyse gedacht haben:<br />
"I recently heard a commercial on the radio for a company that leases cars:<br />
Salesman: And, ah, Mr. Smith, just for how much of the car did you want to have?<br />
customer: uh, I was thinking in terms of the whole thing.<br />
Salesman: I see. So you plan on having it for...well, for quite a long time....?<br />
Customer: Not really. maybe three, four years.<br />
Salesman: Ah, then you don't want the whole thing after all, you only want three or four years of<br />
it! But then why buy the whole thing in the first place? why not just buy the part you want?"<br />
Es handelt sich hier um den Versuch, den Humor durch die Kategorisierungsverfahren und<br />
deren Zusammenbruch zu erklären, wobei eine zentrale Rolle die kognitiven Verhältnissen<br />
der Proto-und Stereotypenetablierungen spielen, indem auf der anderen Seite ein Kollaps<br />
der kognitiven Erfahrungen der am Sprechakt Beteiligten zutrifft.<br />
Unsere Hypothese ist, dass Stereotypen, die die Menge der einen Prototyp<br />
definierenden Eigenschaften sind, die 'frames' bilden, den semantischen Bereich, der sich<br />
als Rahmen des enzyklopädischen Wissens zu verstehen läßt, wobei die 'scripts' die<br />
dynamische Aktualisierung im Kon<strong>text</strong> der sprachlichen Handlung sind. Die<br />
Unterscheidung zwischen 'frames' und 'scripts' haben wir von John R. Taylor ( 1995)<br />
entnommen. Da wir uns hauptsächlich mit Raskins Theorie auseinandersetzen, finden wir<br />
diesen feinen terminologischen Unterschied ziemlich wichtig, da bei Raskin 'scripts' als die<br />
um ein Wort herum existente semantische Information definiert wurden, wobei die<br />
dynamische Komponente, oder das Herausziehen der 'scripts' aus den gegebenen<br />
prototypischen 'frames' nicht vorausgesagt ist. Bei Raskin werden 'scripts' in der Non-<br />
Bona-Fide Kommunikation (NBF) als entgegengesetzte semantische Informationen<br />
dargestellt, was überhaupt nicht der Fall sein könnte, sonst könnte sich der wesentliche<br />
Überraschungseffekt des Humors nicht offenbaren. Die darausfolgende These ist, dass bei<br />
der Humorauslösung die prototypischen Effekte durch Instanziirungen neugedachter<br />
Stereotypen, oder besser gesagt durch Zusammenfallen der üblichen Stereotypen, die zu<br />
neuen Kategorisierungsvorschlägen durch logische 'mismatchs' führen, neue Ontologien<br />
schöpfen.<br />
Die Wahrheitswerte, die Verbindung zwischen linguistischen und<br />
extralinguistischen Realitäten leisten mögen, finden sowieso auch in der Bona-Fide<br />
Kommunikation (BF) nur insoweit einen Deckungsbereich, inwieweit sie den 'frames' der<br />
Sprecher entsprechen. Dasgleiche geschieht auch in der NBF-Kommunikation, in der sie<br />
Sache der subjektiven Deutung der Sprecher und Hörer sind, die dadurch neue Ontologien<br />
als akzeptabel bewerten können, wodurch die Metapher zum Beispiel nicht als einen<br />
aberanten Fall sprachlicher Taetigkeit, wie bei Searle, betrachtet wird. Metapher werden in<br />
diesem Proto-und Stereotypenmodell als Interaktion (Black folgend) angesehen, oder als<br />
Konzeptualisierung eines prototypisch semantischen Bereichs durch Stereotypen, die<br />
normalerweise einem anderen semantischen Bereich gehören oder ontologische<br />
Übertragungen. Das erweiterte Modell der Prototypensemantik versucht eben eine<br />
Erklärung der Phänomene der Polysemie und Homoymie. Auf der einen Seite weisen<br />
Kategorien eine ziemlich große Flexibilität auf, die das Einbeziehen neuen, hitherto<br />
Begriffe erlaubt, die zumindest eine Weile, weil unerwartet, als witzig empfunden werden<br />
können, auf der anderen Seite kann man im Falle einer etymologischen Entwicklung mit<br />
wissenschaftlichem gegen folklorischem Wissen spielen. Im dem folgenden Schritt werden<br />
wir die oben entworfene Theorie püncktlich besprechen.<br />
Wie schon gesagt überlappen sich ICMs mit Fillmores Begriff der ‘frames’.<br />
Wichtig für den Zweck dieser Analyse halten wir eine weitere Unterscheidung, die uns<br />
dann erlauben wird, die Kritik an Raskins Theorie zu führen. Laut Beaugrand und Dressler,<br />
19
ilden frames ‘global patterns of common sense knowledge about some central concept’,<br />
so dass das lexikalische Element, das das Konzept bezeichnet, den ganzen Frame<br />
hervorbringt. Grob genommen stellen Frames statysche Konfigurationen von<br />
Wissenkomplexen. Auf der anderen Weise sind Skripts dynmische Informationen, die man<br />
mit den schon erwähnten basic level Elementen assoziiert warden. Diese Unterschiede<br />
können in Zusammenhang mit der Beziehung zwischen Proto-und Stereotypen gebracht<br />
warden, wobei die Frames den ICMs entsprechen, die ihrerseits von Prototypen<br />
repräsentiert werden und die Skripts ihre Entsprechung in den Stereotypen finden, die den<br />
Prototypen instanziieren: “Putnam’s stereotypes […] comprise not only the prototype, but<br />
also frame and script based information wich provides the con<strong>text</strong> for o prototype<br />
representation”. (Taylor, 1995: 73). Wenn man jetzt die Werbung betrachtet, kann man<br />
feststellen, dass das Aktualisierung bestimmter Skripts im Rahmen einer gegebenen Frame<br />
eine Sache der Interpretabilität und Zusagung ist. Normalerweise würde dieses Beispiel<br />
merkwürdig klingen. Was heißt ja nur Teile eines Auto kaufen, weil man das Auto nur für<br />
ein paar Jahren braucht? Der Verstoß gegen die stereotypische dreidimensionale<br />
Wahrnehmung der Wirklichkeit, bzw des Autos durch das Aktivieren unerwarteten Skripts<br />
löst Humor wegen einer Kollision der ontologischen Kategorien auf. Diese Stereotypen,<br />
die sich in Skripts konkretisieren, oder Greimas folgend Isotopien, führen im Falle von<br />
Humor zur Inkongruenz als Folge von 'category mistake', wie Gilbert Ryle (1949) diese<br />
Kollision genannt hat.<br />
Was die Bon-Fide-Kommunikation und deren Gegenteil, die Non-Bona-Fide-<br />
Kommunikation betrifft, die bei Raskin als zwei voneinander klar unterschiedliche und<br />
begrenzte Kommunikationsrahmen vorkommen, muß man sagen, dass unserer Meinung<br />
nach keine transchante Grenze zwischen den beiden ziehen kann. Demzufolge kann man<br />
auch nicht sagen, dass bestimmte Mechansimen der Bedeutungs- bzw Kategorienaufbau<br />
spezyfisch für die eine oder die andere sei. Die NBF setzt voraus, dass Sprecher und Hörer<br />
sich der Wahrheit nich verpflichteen, d.h. dass sie absichtlich und bewußt einen<br />
bestimmten Rahmen für die Kommunikatin auswählen. Diese Wahl bastimmt laut Raskin<br />
auch die Bedingungen, die den Humorsinn ausmachen: “people with a sense of humor (i)<br />
switch easily and readily from the bona-fide mode of communication to the joke-telling<br />
mode; (ii) have more scripts available for appositeness interaction; (iii) have more<br />
oppositeness relations between scripts relations” (Raskin 1998: 97). Das Problem dieser<br />
Theorie ist, dass sie das Verfahren von Humorproduktion und – Rezeption vereinfacht.<br />
Wenn die Skript-analyse im Sine Raskins Unterkategorien von Humor erklären können,<br />
scheint es schwieriger im Falle einer konzeptuellen Proijektion zum Beispiel, wie der<br />
Metapher, zu sein. Unser konzeptuelles System ist weitaus metaphorisch aufgebaut, wobei<br />
Metapher im alltäglichen Leben eine zentrale Rolle im Kategorisierungsverfahrens spielen.<br />
Black folgend haben Lakoff und Johnsen (Lakoff und Johnsen 2003) eine<br />
Metapherntheorie entwickelt, die sich auf dem bisher vorgestellten Kategorisierungsmodell<br />
stützt, wobei Metapher als Interaktion angesehen wird. Ausgangpunkt ist die Festlegung,<br />
dass der metaphorische Ausdruck in seinen konkreten <strong>text</strong>uellen Umraum thematisch nicht<br />
recht zu passen scheint. Eine Metapher also, behauptet Black, sei nur dann zu verstehen,<br />
wenn die Differenz überwunden und die Bedeutung des metaphorischen Ausdrucks und<br />
die des Kon<strong>text</strong>es mieinander abgeglichen werde. Nehmen wir als Beispiel eine Aussage<br />
wie „Er ist eine Wolke in Hosen“, geäußert von einer Frau beim Ansehen eines atraktiven<br />
Mannes. Die Aussage, „er“ sei „eine Wolke in Hose“ setzt eine Interaktion zwischen dem<br />
Begriff der „Wolke“ und demjenigen des Menschen in Gang. Die Eigenschaften, die<br />
normalerweise Wolken zugeschrieben werden 'interagieren' mit den Eigenschaften des<br />
Menschen, alle Merkmale der Wolke, die auf Menschen anwendbar sind, werden im<br />
metaphorischen Prozeß auf den Menschen 'projiziert'. Der Mensch wird durch die der<br />
20
Wolke zugeschriebenen Eigenschaften und Merkmale hindurch wahrgenommen. Neben<br />
dem Begriff der Interaktion und der Projektion verwendet Black das Bild eines Filters: Das<br />
'Wolke-System' bildet den Filter, durch den bestimmte Eigenschaften des Menschen<br />
hervorgehoben, und andere in den Hintergrund gedrängt werden. Man kann also davon<br />
ausgehen, dass zu jedem Begriff der Sprache ein System von Stereotypen oder Skripts<br />
existiert, das als Wissen im Umfeld des Begriffs, d.h. als Frame vorausgesetzt werden<br />
kann, und dass dieses Wissen im Fall seiner metaphorischen Verwendung in andere<br />
Kon<strong>text</strong>e und auf andere Gegenstände übertragen wird. Man muß also hervorheben, dass<br />
sowohl im Begriff des „Filters“ als auch in dem der Interaktion der metaphorische<br />
Austausch die jeweiligen Systeme der Stereotypen nicht unberührt läßt. Auf beiden Seiten<br />
der metaphorischen Interaktion findet eine Veränderung und eine Erweiterung der<br />
Bedeutung statt, die als das Spezifische der Metapher angesehen werden kann und auch als<br />
das eigentliche Element, das Humor auslöst.<br />
Nehmen wir ein anders Beispiel, das von Lakoff (1977) in Bezug auf<br />
zusammengesetzte Substantive wie zum Beispiel topless dress, topless judge, topless bar<br />
besprochen wurde. Das Verstehen dieser Ausdrücke setzt zuerst unser Wissen voraus, dass<br />
Frauen ihre Brüste einhüllen müssen. Wir wissen auch, dass Frauen, die das nicht machen,<br />
in bestimmten Kneipen arbeiten; dass sich diese Kneipen in bestimmten Zonen einer Stadt<br />
befinden. Dementsprechend kann man sich ein topless bar als eine Kneipe, wo topless<br />
women arbeiten, a topless district als eine Zone, wo topless bars sind, wo topless women<br />
arbeiten, vorstellen. Andererseits ist ein Ausdruck wie topless chair virtuel undeutbar. Wie<br />
könnte man diesen Ausdruck mit Hilfe Raskins Theorie erklären? Dem Ausdruck topless<br />
chair werden die Skripts zugeschrieben, die den stereotypischen Ausdruck topless woman<br />
ausmachen. Es geht hier um das Problem von „ignorance and error“, das mit der Tatsache<br />
zu tun hat, dass es möglich ist, ein Konzept zu beistzen, ohne aber seine Attribute zu<br />
kennen.<br />
IV. Schlußfolgerungen<br />
In Wierzbickas Worten (1985) ist es notwendig einen Unterschied zu machen zwischen<br />
„the knowledge of a concept and knowledhe about a concept“. Diese Flexibilität der<br />
Kategorien, neue Mitglieder aufgrund einfacher Ähnlichkeiten oder proijzierter<br />
metaphorischen Skripten zu erlauben, kann zum Humorauslösen beitragen. Da das<br />
Entstehen von neuen Begriffen eine Sache der Interpretabilität und metaphorischer<br />
Proijzierung ist, kann man zum Beispiel einen Ausdruck wie topless chair als „ein Stuhl,<br />
auf dem topless Frauen sitzen“ deuten. Da Bedeutung Gedankenschnitte reflektiert und<br />
sich auf der Basis von Mappings zwischen verschiedenen mentalen Repräsentationen<br />
aufbaut, kann man im Licht der angegebenen Beispiele sagen, dass Humor nicht so sehr<br />
auf der Wortsemantik fußt, die die raskinsche Skript-Oppositionen rechtfertigen, sondern<br />
vielmehr auf unerwarteten Kategorisierungen (topless chair) oder Kategorienfehler (das<br />
Werbung-Beispiel).<br />
Bibliographie<br />
Evans, Vyvyan and Green Melanie (2005). Cognitive Linguistics, Edinburgh University Press<br />
Fauconnier, Gilles (1997). Mappings in Thought and Languge, Cambridge<br />
Fillmore, Charles (1982). Frame Semantics in Linguistics in the Morning Calm, Seoul, 1982<br />
Jubien, Michael (1994). Ontology, Modality and the Fallacy of Reference, Cambridge University Press<br />
Lakoff, George and Johnses, Mark (2003). Metaphors we live by, The University of Chicago Press<br />
Langacker, Ronald (1987). Foundations of Cognitive Grmmar, Stanford University Press<br />
Putnam, Hilary (1983). Realism and Reason. Philosophical Papers, Cambridge<br />
Raskin, Victor (1985). Semantic Mechanismus of Humor, D. Reidel Publishing Company<br />
21
Raskin, Victor (1998). The sense of humor and the truth in The Sense of Humor, Ruch, W. (ed), Mouton de<br />
Gruyter, 95-108<br />
Rosch, Eleanor and Caroline Mervis, (1975). Family resemblances: studies in the internal structure of<br />
categories, în Cognitive Psychology 7, 573-605<br />
Sweester, Eve (1990). From Etymology to Pragmatics, Cambridge University Press<br />
Talmy, Leonard (2000). Toward a Cognitive Semantics, Cambridge<br />
Taylor, John R. (1995). Categorization: Prototypes in linguistic theory, Oxford University Press<br />
Turner, Mark (1991). Reading Minds, Princeton University Press<br />
Wierzbicka, Anna (1985). Lexicography and Conceptual Analysis, Karoma<br />
Abstract<br />
Categoarization errors or surprising categorizations which seemingly can or cannot logically<br />
represent categorization errors underlie the creation of humour. I start with the rendering of the<br />
idea of meaning in cognitive semantics, according to which meaning represents models of<br />
thinking, at the basis of meaning lying the process of conceptualization and categorization.an<br />
example shows the extant to wich cognitivists succeed in applying discoveries in linguistics and<br />
the extant to which they can account for humour. The second section of the approach presents the<br />
classic model of categorization which ic argued against through Rosch’s discoveries of the 1970s<br />
which radically changed the perspective on ‘the necessary and sufficient conditions’ imposed<br />
upon the memebres of one category, producing an example for the relenance of the new model in<br />
an analysis of humour. The last section presents a confrontation with Raskin’s theory where I try<br />
to show through examples the impossibility of explaining all manifestations of humour through<br />
recourse to his theory and the need to place the research on a more profound level of analysis<br />
involving the appeal the process of conceptualization and categorization.<br />
Résumé<br />
Les erreurs de catégorisation ou les catégorisations surprenantes qui apparemment ou non se<br />
constituent du point de vue logique dans des erreurs de catégorisation, se trouvent à la base de la<br />
production de l’humour. Nous avons commencé par la description de l’idée de signification dans<br />
la sémantique cognitive, selon laquelle, la signification représente les modèles de raisonnement,<br />
basée sur le processus de conceptualisation et catégorisation. Par l’exemple proposé, nous avons<br />
démontré dans quelle mesure les cognitivistes réussissent à appliquer les découvertes du domaine<br />
de la psychologie en linguistique et, comment elles peuvent expliquer l’humour. Dans la<br />
deuxième section, nous avons présenté le modèle classique de la catégorisation que nous avons<br />
combattue à l’aide des découvertes faites par Rosch, dans les années 1970, et qui ont totalement<br />
changé la vision sur «les conditions nécessaires et suffisantes » imposées aux membres d’une<br />
catégorie.Nous avons aussi exemplifié la relevance du nouveau modèle dans une analyse de<br />
l’humour.Dans la dernière section nous nous sommes confronté à la théorie proposée par Ruskin,<br />
de manière à démontrer, par des exemples, qu’il est impossible d’expliquer toutes les<br />
manifestations de l’humour, en appelant uniquement à sa théorie et, le besoin de situer la<br />
recherche à un niveau plus profond d’analyse qui implique le recours au processus de<br />
conceptualisation et catégorisation.<br />
Rezumat<br />
Greşelile de categorizare sau categorizări surprinzătoare care aparent sau nu se pot constitui din<br />
punct de vedere logic în greşeli de categorizare se află la baza producerii umorului. Am început<br />
prin redearea ideii de semnificaţie în semantica cognitivă, conform căreia semnificaţia reprezintă<br />
modele de gândire, la baza semnificaţiei aflîndu-se procesul de conceptualizare şi categorizare.<br />
Printr-un exemplu am arătat în ce măsură cognitiviştii reuşesc să aplice descoperirile din<br />
psihologie în lingvistică şi în ce măsură pot ele explica umorul. Am trecut în cea de-a doua<br />
secţiune la prezentarea modelului clasic al categorizării pe care l-am combătut cu descoperirile<br />
făcute de Rosch în anii 70 şi care au schimbat total viziunea aspura "condiţiilor necesare şi<br />
suficiente" impuse membrilor unei categorii, exemplificănd, iar, relevanţa noului model intr-o<br />
analiză a umorului. În ultima secţiune m-am confruntat cu teoria propusă de Raskin încercînd să<br />
arăt prin exemple imposibilitatea de a explica toate manifestarile umorului prin recursul la teoria<br />
lui şi nevoia de a situa cercetarea pe un nivel mai profund de analiză ce implică recursul la<br />
procesul de conceptualizare si categorizare.<br />
22
Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of GALAŢI<br />
Fascicle XIII. New Series.<br />
Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006<br />
pp. 23 - 30<br />
23<br />
Language<br />
and<br />
Literature<br />
THE EC LANGUAGE POLICY AND CONTENT-BASED LEARNING IN<br />
ROMANIA<br />
Anca Cehan<br />
The Romanian education con<strong>text</strong> is such that there is relatively little foreign<br />
language input outside the classroom, and that the classroom input may not be enough. For<br />
this reason, foreign language teachers may opt for skill-building over building<br />
communicative competence, claiming that there is not enough time for “the real thing”.<br />
Development of recent approaches, new specific materials and <strong>text</strong>books, including<br />
content-based learning (also known as CLIL - Content and Language Integrated Learning)<br />
seems a possible solution.<br />
1. Students<br />
For many of the Romanian students, who are likely to use the English learnt in<br />
school throughout their lives, the time spent in foreign language lessons practising<br />
grammar, learning words, speaking, reading or writing, is enjoyable, easy and successful.<br />
However, many more students leave school being able to use very little of the foreign<br />
language which they spent so much time learning. For them, the investment of time and<br />
effort in the English classrooms has disappointing outcomes. When they leave school and<br />
later in their lives, they find it difficult to use the foreign language they know as this is<br />
either not enough or not what would help them in their jobs. The language they learn in<br />
school cannot be used as a tool for real-life communication in the everyday situations in<br />
which they may have to operate. When it is too late, they may realise that it does not make<br />
sense to have spent all this time learning a language which they cannot use in real life<br />
situations. For such people, more important in point of effective language learning and<br />
communication is not what they know but how they could use it.<br />
2. Schools<br />
The learning process organised in schools is very much a situation-specific matter.<br />
The kind of schools that students attend provide strong influences on the teaching -<br />
learning process, and it is counterproductive to ignore them. The implementation of an<br />
appropriate methodology depends on the teachers’ ability to find out in the classroom what<br />
is the extent to which the knowledge and skills acquired or learnt in the classroom can be<br />
transferred into activities accountable later on.<br />
Although it is possible to generalise about some social principles, and to say, for<br />
instance, that classroom cultures are influenced by the cultures outside the classroom, or<br />
that there is likely to be conflict between teacher and student agendas, it is not possible to<br />
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<br />
the specific situation in which the teaching - learning process takes place. The implications<br />
are not simple: the class teacher should be aware of who the students in a particular<br />
classroom are, what their needs and interests are, and what they are able to do. The class<br />
teacher has the role of seeing what is going on and finding out about the relevant<br />
backgrounds of all parties involved. Other parties, such as curriculum developers, materials<br />
and <strong>text</strong>book writers, school administration, may also be involved in making decisions<br />
about the nature of classroom teaching and learning through recommended syllabi,<br />
<strong>text</strong>books, methodology, materials, and equipment.<br />
To be appropriate, materials and methodology must be sensitive to the prevailing<br />
culture surrounding any given classroom. In other words, appropriate materials and<br />
methodology must be culture-sensitive and as such they must be based on a process of<br />
learning about the classroom. The data produced by this process makes the methodology<br />
culture-sensitive and appropriate. Learning about the classroom and the ethos of the entire<br />
school is an essential aspect of finding out how to teach.<br />
Any class and any foreign language class for that matter, is supposed to cater for<br />
the specific needs of each group of learners if not for each individual learner. The process<br />
of learning about the classroom needs involves research which can be carried out at an<br />
informal level in such a way as to be accessible to all teachers. The notion of teacher as<br />
informal researcher is already common in general education (Stenhouse 1985, Ruddock<br />
and Hopkins, 1985), and is becoming popular in English language education, too (Nunan<br />
1990, Allwright 1992). Teachers can carry out even less formal classroom research in a<br />
way that it is <strong>full</strong>y integrated with their day-to-day work. For this kind of research<br />
Allwright and Bailey (1991) use the notion of “exploratory teaching”.<br />
3. Foreign language teaching and beyond<br />
In Romania, many foreign language teachers work in situations where the<br />
established syllabus is not in agreement with their view of how English is learned<br />
efficiently, or the needs of their students, as perceived by the teachers. Such teachers have<br />
two options: either to simply go along with the syllabus and complain secretly to their<br />
peers, or to secretly do what they think is best and be successful, and thus credit the<br />
syllabus with undeserved merits.<br />
However, the system offers a chance that quite a few teachers understood is worth<br />
taking: 'curriculum la decizia şcolii' ('curriculum based on school decision'), with its three<br />
alternatives: the basic core curriculum, the expanded curriculum and the optional syllabi.<br />
The optional syllabi may be designed by regular school teachers on different levels:<br />
subject level, curricular area level, or cross-curricular area level.<br />
The optional syllabus developed for a subject consists in either new learning<br />
modules, activities, or projects for a subject in the national syllabus, or in a completely new<br />
syllabus for a new subject, complementary to those in the national curriculum.<br />
The optional syllabus developed for a curricular area requires the choice of a new<br />
topic, which involves at least two subjects of the same curricular area. In designing such an<br />
optional syllabus new objectives have to be specified and related to the instructional goals<br />
of the two subjects.<br />
The third type of optional syllabus implies at least two subjects of different<br />
curricular areas. Consequently, the input offered to students is more complex, and thus<br />
allows them to acquire high cognitive skills (e.g. generalization, transfer, extrapolation,<br />
etc.). In contrast to learning skills in isolation, when students participate in crossdisciplinary<br />
experiences, they understand better the value of what they are learning and<br />
24
ecome more actively engaged. The optional syllabus developed on a cross-curricular area<br />
level encourages students to cross boundaries in order to find and work with authentic<br />
material on other subjects, such as history, geography or sciences, which will immediately<br />
stir their interest. In favour of cross-curricular transfer, is the idea of skills integration;<br />
through integration, skills tend to become more stable parts of a person’s understanding of<br />
the world.<br />
A cross-curricular approach in education in general, not only at the level of foreign<br />
languages, is a must of our time. It helps students to form an image of reality in its entirety,<br />
develop an integrative model of thinking, and adapt transfer methods, values and skills<br />
from one area or field to another with minimum effort or risk. Cross-curricular teaching is<br />
seen as a way to address some of the recurring problems in our school education, such as<br />
fragmentation and isolated skill instruction, and involves a conscious effort to apply<br />
knowledge, principles and values to more than one subject simultaneously. The subjects<br />
may be related through a central theme, issue, problem, process, topic or experience.<br />
This legal provision allows teachers to develop specific syllabi, design materials<br />
and even write <strong>text</strong>books which respond directly to the needs of their students. Based on<br />
ethnographic study processes, such as classroom observation, insights into the feasibility of<br />
innovation for students and classroom conditions, teachers are able to find out what the<br />
students’ needs really are, and starting from there, to design or adapt both syllabi and<br />
materials. Their analysis of the environment is accompanied by a tacit understanding of the<br />
psycho-cultural and micro political aspects of institutional behaviour.<br />
One opportunity offered by this optional syllabus, as identified by foreign language<br />
teachers, is to put some time of the school week for learning other subjects, such as<br />
geography history or civilisation, or special modules through English. In this way, lessons<br />
are taught that offer opportunities to students to use English naturally, forgetting about the<br />
language and focusing mainly on the learning topic. The learning of language and the<br />
content of another subjects are mixed and each lesson has a twofold aim: one related to the<br />
subject, topic or theme, and one linked to the foreign language. Thus these kinds of lessons<br />
have a dual focus.<br />
This approach, in itself, is not new, nor is it unknown in Romania. Over the years,<br />
teachers have tried to teach foreign languages through other subjects and other topics. This<br />
is the philosophy behind bilingual schools and classes, where a foreign language is used as<br />
a medium of teaching and learning. It has been felt that students benefit from the focus<br />
being less on the language in terms of grammar, functions, or lexis, and more on the<br />
content or topic. By choosing topics that learners are already somehow familiar with,<br />
currently studying or interested in, the hope is that they will learn more and faster. This<br />
approach is gaining more ground, not only in bilingual schools, but also in vocational<br />
schools.<br />
4. CLIL<br />
Content-based learning / Content and Language Integrated Learning (CLIL) can be<br />
very successful in enhancing the learning of a foreign language together with another<br />
subject, and in developing in the young people a ‘can do’ attitude towards their own<br />
learning. CLIL lessons can offer supplementary opportunities of picking up a foreign<br />
language, while studying a content area. Naturalness appears to be one of the major assets<br />
of this approach. Dual-focus lessons offer a natural situation for language practice and<br />
development which builds on the forms learnt in the language classes. As such they can<br />
boost the learners’ motivation and interest for learning the foreign language, as the<br />
language is relevant for their interests and needs. An important difference between a<br />
25
foreign language lesson and a CLIL lesson is that in the latter the language is picked up<br />
more naturally. In a typical language class, the learners go through the process of sorting<br />
out sounds, patterns, structures, vocabulary, etc. In a CLIL class, it is essential for the<br />
students to understand how language works, but there is seldom enough time for learning<br />
more than the essentials. A CLIL class in English enables students to acquire subjects<br />
through the mediation of English as a foreign language and it is the subject orientation<br />
which is given a special focus. It can combine sector-specific target language knowledge<br />
with job-specific communication competencies.<br />
CLIL promotes several principles:<br />
content<br />
At the very heart of the process of learning is placed successful content or subject<br />
learning, the acquisition of knowledge, skills and understanding characteristic for that<br />
subject. The traditional transmission model for content delivery which conceptualises the<br />
subject as a body of knowledge to be transferred from teacher to learner is not longer<br />
considered appropriate. Rather, a symbiotic relationship is stressed between the foreign<br />
language and the subject, which demands a focus on how subjects are taught while<br />
working with and through another language rather than in another language. This<br />
important shift in focus has determined the redefinition of methodology to take account of<br />
language use by both teachers and students, which encourages real engagement and<br />
interactivity. It has also brought about teacher reflection on how best to teach. This means<br />
consideration of issues fundamental to the education process itself. Consequently, CLIL<br />
has implications for teacher education and training.<br />
communication<br />
The foreign language is seen as a conduit for both communication and learning. It is<br />
learned through use in authentic, unrehearsed, yet ‘scaffolded’ situations.<br />
By using English as the medium of instruction and communication, the foreign<br />
language teacher becomes more aware of the learners’ linguistic needs and triggers tunedin<br />
strategic language behaviour. The teacher also performs constant comprehension checks,<br />
related to content. This may result in high levels of communication between the teacher<br />
and the studens and among students themselves. CLIL stretches the learners’ language and<br />
language learning potential through pushing them to produce meaningful and complex<br />
language. Thus it fosters implicit and incidental learning by focusing on meaning and<br />
communication, and providing great amounts of input. At the same time, the regular<br />
foreign language class can keep a complementary focus-on-form approach in the needed<br />
language areas. In addition, CLIL fosters fluency, whereas many simple foreign language<br />
lessons tend to focus on accuracy. Therefore, CLIL lessons are complementary to the more<br />
structured foreign language lessons. CLIL lessons build on the language learned and<br />
practised in the language lessons by providing alternative opportunities to develop a wide<br />
range of language skills, strategies and competences needed by students to function in<br />
everyday situations. The linguistic competence acquired in the language lessons may be<br />
transferred to yet another kind of language in the CLIL setting. CLIL serves to reinforce<br />
the notion that any language is a tool which, to have meaning and sense, needs to be<br />
activated in con<strong>text</strong>s which are motivating and meaningful for the learners.<br />
cognition<br />
CLIL challenges the learners cognitively, whatever their ability. It provides a rich<br />
setting for developing thinking skills in conjunction with both basic interpersonal<br />
communication skills (BICS) and cognitive-academic language proficiency (CALP).<br />
Research suggests that these challenges encourage thinking to take place in different<br />
languages and at a deeper level of cultural understanding.<br />
26
The potential of CLIL for successful foreign language teaching comes from<br />
meaningful input. It strengthens the students’ ability to process input, which enhances<br />
cognitive development and prepares them for higher-level thinking skills. The need for<br />
more support for CLIL lessons (visual and other types), makes the teacher aware of the<br />
more general need of cognitive and interactional support that foreign language learners,<br />
particularly young learners, require. Also, CLIL facilitates the transfer of literacy skills<br />
from the mother tongue to the foreign language.<br />
pluriculturality<br />
Language, thinking and culture are inextricably linked, and CLIL may provide an<br />
ideal opportunity for students to operate in alternative cultures through studies in an<br />
alternative language. Studying a subject through the language of a different culture paves<br />
the way for understanding and tolerating different perspectives. This element is<br />
fundamental to fostering European understanding and making European citizenship a<br />
reality.<br />
These four principles elevate CLIL to the position of a major and significant<br />
contributor to the realisation of the European Commission’s Language Policy.<br />
In addition, CLIL provides a learning environment which makes it possible to<br />
realise modern learning theoretical and methodological concepts in an optimal way. CLIL<br />
has some clear advantages:<br />
authenticity of language and content. CLIL learners deal with authentic<br />
content and interact in a foreign language about the real world around them. Authenticity<br />
promotes the language learning process more than talking about the pseudo-real and<br />
fictitious contents of the traditional language classroom. Authenticity is a fundamental<br />
condition that gives good results.<br />
learner autonomy. In science, history, geography or other subject lessons,<br />
students make use of alternative learning strategies and study skills when they have to deal<br />
with bibliographical sources, tables, maps, or diagrams. Such materials not only provide a<br />
lot of information but also allow students a certain degree of independence. A CLIL class<br />
can be a place in which the different topics are not divided arbitrarily and taught in<br />
isolation, but as a complex whole or a place of autonomous learning in which students deal<br />
independently with the learning content.<br />
conceptualisation. CLIL does not promote only linguistic competence. It<br />
offers different ‘thinking horizons’ as a result of work in another language, and the way in<br />
which learners think can be modified. Being able to think about something of real interest,<br />
professionally or otherwise, can enrich the learners’ understanding of concepts, and help to<br />
broaden their conceptual mapping resources. This allows better association of different<br />
concepts and helps the students towards a more sophisticated level of learning in a certain<br />
field. Classes provide situations in which the attention of the students is on some form of<br />
learning activity that is not the language itself. Students are provided opportunities to think<br />
in the foreign language, not just learn about the language itself as the major learning focus.<br />
Students in CLIL classes often lack the cognitive language proficiency needed to<br />
process and express content area concepts. The task of the CLIL teacher is to expose<br />
learners to appropriate content designed to further their linguistic skills and to render the<br />
core concepts of the CLIL lesson accessible through language enrichment activities. This<br />
task involves sophisticated adaptation techniques and strategies, and for many teachers, it<br />
may entail a rethinking of how to present material to learners.<br />
attitude towards the foreign language. As CLIL lessons are not primarily<br />
foreign language lessons, students should be encouraged to challenge the idea of waiting to<br />
communicate in the foreign until they think they are good enough in the language to use it.<br />
27
The status of the foreign language as a tool for communication and learning should be<br />
emphasised. The foreign language teacher can capitalise not only on the positive attitudes<br />
the students may have towards the language, but also on their motivation to reach the best<br />
possible outcomes in terms of learning the other subject. In addition, the students’ affective<br />
filter may be lower than in other situations, for learning takes place in a relatively anxietyfree<br />
environment: a syllabus designed after enquiring about their needs, and students<br />
(often) more knowledgeable of the content than the foreign language teacher. Thus,<br />
motivation to learn content through the foreign language may foster and sustain motivation<br />
towards learning the language itself.<br />
social learning. The relevance of study topics motivates the students to<br />
understand the importance of forms of collaboration, better than in the traditional<br />
classrooms. Thus, CLIL creates a learning environment that corresponds better to modern<br />
psychological principles than do traditional learning environments. It also connects<br />
different areas of the learning curriculum into a meaningful and economic use of study<br />
time.<br />
The pedagogical potential of CLIL is enormous and lies not only in the promotion<br />
of foreign language learning but in the adaptation of the educational structures to the EU<br />
language policy. Within such a learning environment, reaching the goal of trilingualism of<br />
all the citizens of the EU, as defined in the 1995 White Paper by the Council of Europe,<br />
seems more feasible. CLIL is far better suited than mainstream pedagogical concepts to<br />
provide for the learners’ different aptitudes.<br />
5. EC language policy<br />
The principles behind CLIL include global statements such as ‘all teachers are<br />
teachers of language’ (The Bullock Report, A language for Life, 1975) to the advantages of<br />
cross-curricular bilingual teaching in statements from the Content and Language Integrated<br />
Project (CLIP, hosted by the British National Centre for Languages - CILT). The benefits<br />
of CLIL may be seen in terms of cultural awareness, internationalisation, language<br />
competence, preparation for both study and working life, and increased motivation.<br />
A major outcome of CLIL is to establish not only competence in a foreign<br />
language, but also nurture a ‘can do’ attitude towards language learning in general. The<br />
CLIL language can be a platform by which the learners may take an interest in other<br />
languages and cultures as well.<br />
Learning a language and learning through a language are concurrent processes, but<br />
implementing CLIL requires rethinking of the traditional concepts of the language<br />
classroom and the language teacher. The immediate obstacle for the implementation of the<br />
CLIL approach seems to be the opposition to language teaching by subject teachers, but<br />
opposition may also come from the language teachers themselves. The scarcity of CLIL<br />
teacher-training programmes suggests that the majority of teachers may be ill-equipped to<br />
do the job adequately. However, the characteristics of CLIL activities are not unfamiliar to<br />
the teachers from the foreign languages background:<br />
integration of language and content<br />
integration of receptive and productive skills<br />
material directly related to a content-based subject<br />
lessons often based on reading (and listening) authentic <strong>text</strong>s<br />
lessons not always graded from a language point of view. Language is<br />
functional and dictated by the con<strong>text</strong> of the subject<br />
language emphasis placed on lexis rather than on grammar.<br />
28
A CLIL approach is not unlike the humanistic, communicative and lexical<br />
approaches, as it aims to guide language processing and supports language production in<br />
the same way that a foreign language course would, by teaching techniques for exploiting<br />
reading or listening <strong>text</strong>s and structures for supporting spoken or written language.<br />
CLIL can be both challenging and demanding for the teacher and the learners, but it<br />
can also be very stimulating and rewarding for both parties. The degree to which the<br />
teacher adopts this approach may depend on the willingness of the students, the institution<br />
in which they work, and the resources within their environment. It could be something that<br />
a school wants to consider introducing across the curriculum or something that they<br />
experiment with for a few lessons. If either of these is chosen, the advice for the foreign<br />
language teachers is that they should try to involve other subject teachers within the<br />
school. This could help both in terms of finding sources of information and in having the<br />
support of others in helping to evaluate the work. In such schools or classes, the quality of<br />
foreign language teaching will be improved through team-work and/or tandem teaching.<br />
While CLIL may be the best-fit methodology for foreign language teaching and<br />
learning in a multilingual Europe, there remains a dearth of CLIL-type materials, and a<br />
lack of teacher training programmes to prepare both language and subject teachers for<br />
CLIL teaching. Until CLIL training for teachers is organised and materials are published,<br />
the immediate future remains with parallel rather than integrated content and language<br />
learning. However, the need for language teaching reform in the face of Europeanisation<br />
may make CLIL a common feature of many European education systems in the future.<br />
Several European organisations specialising in CLIL projects have emerged:<br />
UNICOM, EuroCLIC and TIE-CLIL. Research on CLIL is mainly based at the University<br />
of Nottingham, which also offers teacher training and development courses in CLIL,<br />
available though NILE (the Norwich Institute for Language Education).<br />
Society is changing, particularly in Europe, with changes brought about by the<br />
process of integration. It is this reality, alongside our new understandings of language<br />
acquisition and learning which has provoked excitement about CLIL. There are social,<br />
economic, cultural and ecological advantages to be gained though promoting<br />
plurilingualism through language learning. CLIL offers one additional means by which we<br />
can give the young people the opportunities to develop their capacity to use language and<br />
to reap the benefits in their present and future lives.<br />
REFERENCES<br />
Allwright, R. L. and K. Biley. (1991). Focus on the Language Classroom – An Introduction to Classroom<br />
Research for Language Teachers. CUP, Cambridge<br />
Cummins, J. (1981). Language, Power and Pedagogy: Bilingual Children in the Crossfire. Clevdon,<br />
Multilingual Matters<br />
McDonough, J., and Shaw, C. (1995). Materials and Methods in ELT,: Basil Blackwell, Oxford<br />
Centre for Information on Language, Teaching and Research, www.cilt.org.uk<br />
CLIL Compendium www.clilcompendium.com<br />
Translanguage in Europe – Content and Language Integrated Learning, www.tieclil.org<br />
Website of University of Jyväskylä, www.jyu.fi<br />
Website of the Central European Regional Network for Education Transfer. European Studies material,<br />
www.cernet.at<br />
Website of Eurydice, www.eurydice.org/resources/eurydice/pdf<br />
29
Abstract<br />
This paper is a synthesis of the characteristic features of CLIL (content-and-language integrated<br />
learning). This approach can offer interesting solutions for the teaching of foreign languages - at<br />
different levels - for the world of work as it promotes intercultural awareness,<br />
internationalisation, and it increases student motivation<br />
Résumé<br />
L’article contient une synthèse des caractéristiques qui font d’EMILE (l’enseignement<br />
d’une matière intégré à une langue étrangère) une solution intéressante pour promouvoir<br />
l’intercompréhension européenne et pour faire de la citoyenneté européenne une réalité. L’auteur<br />
montre comment EMILE crée une atmosphère d’études plus efficace que d’autres méthodes en<br />
usage, et comment l’étude des langues étrangères peut bénéficier d’une éducation à double<br />
objectif.<br />
Rezumat<br />
Articolul este o sinteză a trăsăturilor caracteristice abordării studiului limbilor străine din<br />
perspectiva integrării conţinutului şi a limbii. Această abordare este o soluţie interesantă pentru<br />
promovarea cunoaşterii limbilor străine la diferite nivele de performanţă, necesară pieţei muncii,<br />
dar şi pentru promovarea cunoaşterii interculturale şi a globalizării. Aceasta abordare cu dublu<br />
obiectiv genereaza o motivaţie mai susţinută la cursanţi.<br />
30
Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of GALAŢI<br />
Fascicle XIII. New Series.<br />
Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006<br />
pp. 31 - 35<br />
31<br />
Language<br />
and<br />
Literature<br />
PREVIZIBIL VS. IMPREVIZIBIL IN DISCURSUL PUBLICITAR<br />
Mihaela Cîrnu<br />
Mai mult decât orice situaţie comunicaţională, <strong>text</strong>ul publicitar cultivă ludicul, sub diferite<br />
aspecte, la diferite niveluri şi, ca în orice joc, există părţi previzibile, dar şi multe lucruri<br />
imprevizibile, care măresc interesul participanţilor.<br />
Structuri ale repetiţiei (de la recurenţa lexicală până la figurile de stil), dar şi<br />
elemente ale surprizei (paradoxul, particularităţi ale deicticelor) sunt urmărite în articolul<br />
de faţă, ca elemente pragmatice, surse ale persuasiunii publicitare.<br />
Predictibilitatea din <strong>text</strong>, acele structuri repetabile, ajută la memorarea şi<br />
identificarea rapidă a imaginii create. Cea mai întâlnită schemă este structura tripartită a<br />
<strong>text</strong>ului: ”Dacă / Când [A], folosiţi [B] şi obtineţi [C]” (Stoichiţoiu Ichim, 1997, II, p. 45):<br />
“Când te supără durerea de dinţi… Nurofen te poate ajuta. Calmează rapid şi eficient<br />
durerile de dinţi chiar în locul unde este nevoie. Cu Nurofen, durerile de dinţi nu mai sunt<br />
o problemă.” Acesta este modelul general, din care uneori, în <strong>text</strong>, pot fi exprimate doar<br />
două dintre cele trei părţi: “Dacă iţi pasă ce bei – Wembley dry gin.” Pentru a fi mai<br />
provocatoare, prima parte ia uneori formă interogativă: “Te ustură ochii? Fii cu ochii pe<br />
Visine! Câte o picatură de Visine în fiecare zi şi vei vedea rapid efectul.”<br />
Folosirea frecventă a unor cuvinte (recurenţa lexicală) dă impresia că publicitatea<br />
şi-a însuşit o anumită sferă lexicală: nou, avantajos, rentabil, ieftin, ideal, perfect, unic,<br />
excepţional, eficienţă, calitate, succes, soluţie, siguranţă, confort, prospeţime, valoare.<br />
Observăm că folosirea repetată a acestora nu este întâmplătoare, ci urmăreşte sfera lexicală<br />
preferată de publicitate: avantajele unui preţ accesibil, rezultatul benefic al folosirii<br />
produsului. Insistând asupra anumitor particularităţi pentru a le imprima cât mai bine în<br />
memoria receptorului, <strong>text</strong>ul este construit adesea cu ajutorul figurilor repetiţiei.<br />
Repetiţia fonologică are ca rezultat construcţiile rimate, receptate uşor şi cu plăcere<br />
de public: “Eşti pe felie cu Adi Ilie” (Campofrio); “Acţionează cu putere în orice durere”<br />
(Panadol Extra).<br />
Repetiţia lexicală are la dispoziţie multiple posibilităţi de realizare: epifora (“N-ai<br />
mai văzut aşa ceva! N-ai mai simţit aşa ceva! N-ai mai auzit aşa ceva! De Valentine’s<br />
Day ascultă Europa FM”), anafora (“Rezistent la paste. Rezistent la pizza. Rezistent la<br />
… pasiune. Este mai mult decât un ruj. Este Lipfinity”), anadiploza (“O marfă nu poate<br />
alege. Alege să nu fii o marfă!” – campania TVR2 împotriva traficului de fiinţe umane),<br />
poliptoton (“Păr special? Îngrijire specială!” – Pantene PRO-V), diafora (“ Ace. Ce-i<br />
trebuie albului să fie alb”).<br />
Preluate din alte registre ale limbii, figurile insistenţei aduc <strong>text</strong>ului, de cele mai<br />
multe ori, o notă colocvială, apropiată. Proverbul (“Ce-i al tău e pus deoparte” – Primola)<br />
şi climaxul (“Gut. Besser. Gösser.” – în care numele berii se află pe locul superlativului în<br />
paradigma gradelor de comparaţie a adjectivului “bun” în limba germană) sunt figuri ale<br />
reflecţiei, care atrag atenţia receptorului asupra mesajului, dar mai subtil decât figurile<br />
repetiţiei. Cu o tendinţă recunoscută spre exagerare, <strong>text</strong>ul publicitar nu putea evita<br />
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<br />
(“Fairy face minuni”; “Dream Space de la Whirlpool îţi oferă mai mult decât ai visat!”).<br />
Previzibilul (capacitatea <strong>text</strong>ului de a-l lăsa pe receptor să “ghicescă” ce urmează),<br />
sub orice formă de manifestare, dă receptorului impresia că şi el ar fi putut să spună/facă<br />
un astfel de lucru grozav, că este coautor al mesajului publicitar. Totuşi, există riscul<br />
monotoniei, atunci când totul este intuit. Surpriza, noul, neobişnuitul sunt elemente care<br />
şochează şi atrag atenţia.<br />
Ambiguitatea, jocul planurilor implicit – explicit solicită interpretarea receptorului,<br />
punându-i în acţiune atenţia, memoria, perspicacitatea. Pentru a obţine un astfel de efect,<br />
creatorii <strong>text</strong>elor publicitare folosesc adesea calamburul (o formă de ambiguitate<br />
lingvistică), realizat prin exploatarea intenţionată a mai multor fenomene lingvistice: “La<br />
PROTV în fiecare noapte ai filme deştepte care te ţin deştept.”; “Ea aduce clasa. În<br />
fiecare joi, de la 20.30 Reuniunea de clasă.”; “Totul se limpezeşte! Chiar şi hăinuţele<br />
bebeluşilor… Noua maşină de spălat Beko 8014 Electronic. Să fie limpede: butonul<br />
“Baby” asigură clătirea perfectă a hainelor şi hăinuţelor!”; “Nu uita să-ţi întorci ceasul!”<br />
(ora G); “Cineva te înconjoară cu caldură. Junkers. Căldură pentru o viaţă.” (centrale<br />
termice Junkers). Omonimia şi polisemia produc şi întreţin echivocul, ambiguitatea:<br />
deştept = 1.”inteligent”, 2. “treaz”; clasă = 1.”calitate, valoare”, 2. “grup de elevi”; a<br />
limpezi = 1.”a clarifica”, 2. “a clăti (rufe)”; a întoarce (ceasul) = 1.”a învârti, a răsuci<br />
resortul unui mecanism”, 2.” a schimba poziţia unui obiect, aşezându-l invers faţă de<br />
poziţia firească”; căldură = 1. ”starea sau gradul de încălzire a unui corp”, 2.” afecţiune,<br />
amabilitate” .<br />
Con<strong>text</strong>ului îi revine cea mai importantă sarcină, aceea de a îndruma receptorul<br />
spre unul dintre sensuri sau, dimpotrivă, de a permite coexistenţa celor două: ”totul se<br />
limpezeşte… să fie limpede…”. Cele mai multe reclame au marele avantaj al folosirii<br />
imginilor, uneori chiar cu rol de con<strong>text</strong> edificator. În reclama pentru emisiunea ora G,<br />
alături de titlul: ”Nu uita să-ţi intorci ceasul”, se afla imaginea unui ceas întors cu susul în<br />
jos, aluzie la conţinutul emisiunii: ”lucruri trăsnite, sucite…”. Interpretarea rămâne la<br />
alegerea receptorului. Importanţa con<strong>text</strong>ului (a imaginii, dacă este cazul) devine maximă<br />
în cazul paronimiei: ” Negrul se duce. Negrul seduce” (detergentul Bona pentru rufe<br />
colorate) este partea lingvistică a mesajului publicitar, la care nu trebuie uitată imaginea, o<br />
comparaţie între rochia neagră, spălată cu un detergent obişnuit, care se decolorează în<br />
timp, şi rochia neagră, spălată cu noul produs Bona, care îşi păstrează culoarea în timp.<br />
Receptarea corectă a mesajului este asigurată de forma scrisă a <strong>text</strong>ului, în primul rând, şi<br />
de imagine.<br />
Paradoxul, o altă figură folosită ca sursă a ambiguităţii, se bazează pe contradicţie:<br />
o idee dintr-un şir logic continuă cu o idee care nu are nici o legătura cu prima sau o<br />
contrazice pe aceasta. Una dintre reclamele pentru Sprite, un spot, are următorul <strong>text</strong>:<br />
“Pătrunde acum în lumea minunată bărbieritului fericit. Numai Sprite aranjeanză până şi<br />
firele la care n-a ajuns nimeni. Noua tehnologie a bulinuţelor inteligente. Deci nu folosi<br />
Sprite ca loţiune de ras pentru că nu contează imaginea, dar… nici chiar aşa. Urmează-ţi<br />
setea! Sprite”. Această reclamă face parte dintr-o întreagă serie în care producătorul începe<br />
prin a spune ce nu poate să facă Sprite, terminând cu ceea ce poate să facă: să potolească<br />
setea. Este o reacţie la curentul general din reclamă în care produsul este hiperbolizat şi i se<br />
atribuie o serie de calităţi şi efecte pe care nu le are. Cu o notă de umor, ironie chiar,<br />
reclama prezintă un bărbat care, după ce a folosit Sprite ca loţiune de ras, se alege cu faţa<br />
plină de tăieturi. Concluzia: Sprite este o băutură răcoritoare iar <strong>text</strong>ul reclamei spune acest<br />
lucru prin contradicţie (exagerare – aptitudini reale). Proverbele sau expresiile celebre pot<br />
constitui baza unui paradox: “A fi sau a nu fi la Euro 2004. Aceasta-i întrebarea.<br />
Răspunsul: totul depinde de noi. Copenhaga – jocul cu Danemarca. Fii alături de<br />
32
Naţională! Fii in galben!”. Celebra dilemă shakespeariană devine problema existenţială a<br />
echipei noastre de fotbal.<br />
Ambiguitatea referenţială realizează o altă sferă a surprizelor. Diverse clase de<br />
cuvinte sunt folosite cu valoare deictică. Deixis-ul personal ocupă un loc important în<br />
strategia de ambiguizare la nivelul <strong>text</strong>ului publicitar. Caracteristica formelor pronominale<br />
de persoana I şi a II-a de a nu avea referinţă proprie duce la opacizarea identităţii celor doi<br />
participanţi la actul de comunicare: emiţătorul şi receptorul. Foarte multe <strong>text</strong>e publicitare<br />
sunt construite pe aceste două persoane: “Tu şi Maggi. Echipa bunului gust.”; “Hidrateazăţi<br />
pielea şi răsfaţă-te!” (Dove); “Ploaie de culori sclipitoare pe buzele tale!”; Complimente<br />
părului tău!” (Londacolor). Adresarea directă, aici, apropie receptorul dar nu-l identifică.<br />
Acest “tu” poate fi oricine. Putem deduce câteva dintre caracteristicile destinatarului doar<br />
după natura prudusului căruia i se face publicitate. Produsele cosmetice sunt folosite (de<br />
obicei) de femei, iar ingredientele Maggi de cei care gătesc. Sunt <strong>text</strong>e în care formele<br />
pronominale de persoana a II-a nu apar, dar deducem acest lucru din forma verbală: “Radio<br />
contact – un radio aşa cum vrei”; “Planeta singuratică. Locul în care nu eşti niciodată<br />
singur”; “Fa. Eşti gata de acţiune?”; “Speli mai mult cu mai puţin” (Fairy).<br />
Ambiguitatea referenţială creşte, deoarece informaţia referitoare la destinatarul<br />
mesajului nu mai este exprimată lexical (prin intermediul unei forme pronominale), ci doar<br />
gramatical. Persoana I îl aduce în prim plan pe receptorul mesajului, care este fie<br />
proprietarul obiectului / serviciului promovat, fie un (eventual) beneficiar: “Noi chiar avem<br />
ceva de spus” (Jurnal); “Să-mi fac un card VISA numai ca să mă simt mai domn când<br />
plătesc la restaurant?”. Identificarea rămâne foarte vagă, dar are mai multe elemente de<br />
personalizare decât <strong>text</strong>ele construite cu persoana a II-a. La Mica Publicitate mai toate<br />
anunţurile sunt făcute la persoana I (singular sau plural): “ofer credite fără dobânzi”; “caut<br />
partener pentru afacere cu cherestea şi lemn”; “acordăm împrumuturi”; “vând combină<br />
muzicală”; “angajăm patiser cu experienţă”; “ghicesc în Tarot, cafea, fac pentru dragoste şi<br />
împăcare”. Un element specific de individualizare în asemenea anunţuri este numărul de<br />
telefon şi/ sau adresa. Ştim că în spatele <strong>text</strong>ului nu se ascunde un număr foarte mare de<br />
persoane, ci unul singur sau un grup mic, identificabil. Prin natura lor, anunţurile<br />
matrimoniale dau câteva detalii referitoare la emiţătorul mesajului: “Şarpe, 26 ani,<br />
Bucureşti…”; “Inginer, 48/1,84/82…”. Fiecare apreciază singur ce anume este de spus<br />
despre sine în asemenea împrejurare: vârsta, înălţimea, greutatea, ocupaţia, zodia,<br />
localitatea de reşedinţă.<br />
În reclamele care beneficiază de ajutorul imaginii, persoana I are o situaţie aparte.<br />
“Câinele meu e protejat întreaga viaţă” (Pedigree); “Nu vreau să-i fie frig căluţului meu…”<br />
(Bramac); “Să-mi spăl zilnic părul?” (şamponul Schauma cu muşeţel). Beneficiarul (sau<br />
posibilul beneiciar) este prezentat în imagine: medicul veterinar Andrei Timen, un copil,<br />
respectiv o tânără. Nu putem conchide însă că doar ei pot beneficia de produsul respectiv,<br />
ci ei sunt reprezentanţii celorlalţi, sunt cei care lansează o provocare: dacă el are grijă de<br />
animalul său, şi receptorul poate face acest lucru, dacă tânăra îşi spală părul zilnic fără ca<br />
părul să aibă de suferit, ci dimpotrivă, atunci oricine doreşte un păr frumos, îngrijit poate<br />
folosi şamponul prezentat. Se realizează, aşadar, o pseudo-individualizare a emiţătorului.<br />
Există un spot publicitar conceput ca dialog între două tinere. Una dintre ele ( pe care o<br />
notăm cu T1) se află în camera prietenei, unde vede fotografia unui bărbat. Cealaltă (T2) se<br />
piaptănă în baie, având în faţă noul şampon Nivea.<br />
“T1 - Ei, ceva nou în viaţa ta? (priveşte fotografia)<br />
T2 – Da. Exact ce căutam (ia şamponul în mână). Puternic dar delicat.<br />
T1 – Acesta este? (arată fotografia)<br />
T2 – Evident! (iese din baie cu şamponul în mână)”.<br />
33
Formele pronominale (ceva, acesta), folosite aici atipic, au ca suport imaginea.<br />
Dacă la început ambiguitatea este sporită de imagine (fiecare participantă la dialog are o<br />
altă reprezentare a lui “ceva”), în final tot ea (imaginea) este cea care dezambiguizează<br />
realitatea referenţială (cele doua fete ajung la acelaşi referent).<br />
Deixisul temporal se exprimă în câteva forme, mai ales în anunţurile de la Mica<br />
Publicitate. Pentru a capta atenţia şi a grăbi răspunsul receptorului, multe anunţuri încep<br />
cu adverbul “acum”: “Acum angajez vânzătoare…”; “Acum particular ofer împrumut<br />
avantajos…”; “Acum! Caut spaţiu comercial…” (România liberă, 14 ianuarie 2003, p. 19,<br />
21). Deşi orice articol dintr-un ziar, indiferent dacă este publicitate sau articol informativ,<br />
trebuie corelat cu data de apariţie a cotidianului, adverbul “acum” nu se referă neapărat la<br />
dată, ci la un moment cât mai apropiat de momentul receptării mesajului. Destinatarul<br />
mesajului este îndemnat să acţioneze imediat. Acelaşi rol îl au şi adverbele “rapid” şi<br />
“urgent”: “Rapid, gratuit oferim personal calificat conform cerinţelor firmei<br />
dumneavoastră…”, “Urgent, doresc angajare şofer profesionist…”; “Căutăm urgent pentru<br />
Israel cusătoreasă cu experienţă…” (ibidem, p.15). La această grabă se adaugă uneori o<br />
notă de umor: ”Repede că se dăramă! Casă cu teren…” (România liberă, 28 mai, 2000,<br />
p.16). Aceeaşi referinţă temporală nedeterminată este sugerată şi prin folosirea<br />
imperativului: contactaţi-ne!; abordaţi-ne!. Se obţine, de obicei, un răspuns la câteva ore<br />
sau câteva zile de la publicarea anunţului.<br />
Verbul are şi la nivel semantic un aport deosebit. “A începe” şi “a apărea” presupun<br />
exitenţa unui anumit moment (pe care l-am putea nota t0) care declanşează acţiunea: “A<br />
început promoţia, preţuri cu TVA inclus…”; “A apărut absolut avantajos! Achiziţionez<br />
antichităţi…”; “A apărut cumpăr Mercedes 124…” (România liberă, 14 ianuarie, 2003, p.<br />
21). Dacă “a începe” face referire la un moment al acţiunii promovate, verbul “a apărea”<br />
nu are o legătură directă cu acţiunea denumită, ci cu procesul în sine: “a apărut ocazia de<br />
a…”. Conjugate la indicativ, perfect compus, aceste verbe denumesc activităţi tocmai<br />
încheiate, care oferă receptorului ocazia de a acţiona în avantajul său. Adverbul “astăzi” nu<br />
este foarte folosit şi, de obicei, i se adaugă o precizare: “Familia Vincreaţiu anunţă<br />
dispariţia fulgerătoare a celui care a fost cel mai iubit soţ, tată, bunic şi profesor Viorel<br />
Vincreaţiu. Înmormântarea va avea loc azi, 14 feb. ora 13”. În reclamele din reviste<br />
“acum” are o conotaţie puţin diferită: “Acum există un deodorant de a cărui prospeţime te<br />
poţi bucura în orice moment al zilei, de dimineaţa până seara” (deodorant Nivea); “Acum<br />
poţi spăla atât de mult! Cu atât de puţin!” (Fairy). Acest “acum” nu mai are legătură cu<br />
data de pe coperta revistei, ci reprezintă noutatea în domeniu (un nou produs din gama<br />
Nivea, respectiv un nou detergent de vase).<br />
În ediţiile promo sunt frecvente exprimările de tipul: “astă seară numai la PRO<br />
TV”; “filme de acţiune toată săptămâna”; “filmele tale, filmele pe care ţi-ai dorit să le vezi<br />
– săptămâna aceasta la ANTENA 1”; “toamna aceasta la HBO”, “vineri, la ora 20.00”.<br />
Con<strong>text</strong>ul comunicării are rol dezambiguizator: substantivele “seară”, “săptămână”,<br />
“toamnă”, “vineri” denumesc o unitate precisă de timp, în raport cu momentul emiterii<br />
mesajului.<br />
Deixisul spaţial are mai puţine actualizări în <strong>text</strong>ele publicitare. Anunţurile de ziar<br />
folosesc adverbul “aici” pentru a “obliga” cititorul să se oprească asupra acelui mic<br />
fragment din paginile întregi de anunţuri; nu dă indicii asupra produsului prezentat de<br />
anunţ: “Aici! Angajăm agenţi pază…”; “Aici! Vând avantajos…”. În reclamele din reviste<br />
sau cele TV, imaginea este un plus necesar de informaţie: “Efectele se simt de aproape”<br />
(deodorant NIVEA). “Aproape” poate fi definit cu exactitate doar în funcţie de poziţia<br />
vorbitorului faţă de ceva sau cineva. Imaginea explică ce înseamnă “aproape”. Spotul<br />
publicitar pentru detergentul BONUX este conceput ca o conversaţie între două vecine,<br />
ambele deţinătoare de pensiuni. Una dintre ele, Maria, are foarte mulţi oaspeţi, datorită<br />
34
preţurilor avantajoase. Cealaltă, îngrijorată de inflaţia care o obligă să aibă preţuri ridicate<br />
şi puţini clienţi, află de la Maria secretul succesului: folosirea detergentului BONUX. În<br />
finalul spotului, când primeşte alte solicitări, Maria răspunde:<br />
“- Am casa plină, dar vorbesc cu vecina să vă ia la ea.<br />
- Dar nu e scump?<br />
- Era. Acum e ca la mine.”<br />
Acest “la mine” este un deictic spaţial care, prin raportare la emiţător, poate fi tradus în<br />
con<strong>text</strong>ul de mai sus astfel: “la pensiunea Maria”. În reclama pentru cardurile VISA,<br />
obţinute prin HVB România, explicitarea este dată chiar în <strong>text</strong>: “… De ce tocmai card<br />
VISA? Pentru că sunt carduri internaţionale acceptate în foarte, foarte multe locuri. Dacă<br />
mai vrei şi alte motive, treci pe la noi. >, adică HVB România”.<br />
Zilnic apar noi producţii publicitare. În calea spre succes, fiecare trebuie să găsească<br />
“ceva” ce n-a avut precedenta, încât publicul s-o remarce, să o identifice, să reţină mesajul<br />
şi să acţioneze (în cele mai multe cazuri este vorba despre a cumpăra produsul promovat).<br />
Jocul între previzibil şi imprevizibil reprezintă o arie foarte largă de posibilităţi în<br />
atingerea unui asemenea scop.<br />
Notă:<br />
* Trăsăturile dominante ale <strong>text</strong>ului publicitar sunt enunţiative şi descriptive, dar, la acestea, se adaugă cele<br />
narative şi argumenttive (v. P. Charaudeau, 1992).<br />
Note bibliografice:<br />
Charaudeau, P., Grammaire du sens et de l’expression, Paris, Hachette, 1992;<br />
Du Marsais, Despre tropi, Bucureşti, Univers, 1981;<br />
Lotman, J.M., Structure du <strong>text</strong>e artistique, Paris, 1973;<br />
Stoichiţoiu-Ichim, A., Strategii persuasive în discursul publicitar, I, II, LL, 1997, vol 2, p.51-56, vol.3-4, p.<br />
45-54;<br />
Surse material:<br />
România liberă, 28 mai, 2000,<br />
România liberă, 14 ianuarie, 2003.<br />
Abstract<br />
More than in any other type of communication, the advertising <strong>text</strong> cultivates the ludic, under its<br />
different aspects, at different levels, and, as it is the case with any game, there are predictable<br />
sequences but there also are unpredictable situations which enhance the curiosity of the<br />
participants. Different forms of repetitions oppose ambiguities, each of them playing a well<br />
determined role. Our contribution is an analysis of the means which produce these stylistic<br />
figures.<br />
Résumé<br />
Plus que dans tout autre situation de communication, le <strong>text</strong>e publicitaire cultive le ludique, sous<br />
des aspects différents, aux niveaux différents et, comme dans tout jeu, il y a des séquences<br />
prévisibles, mais aussi des situations imprévisibles qui agrandissent l’intérêt des participants. Les<br />
figures de la répétition s’opposent à l’ambiguïté, chacune ayant un rôle bien déterminé. Cette<br />
étude analyse des moyens de réalisation de ces figures.<br />
Rezumat<br />
Mai mult decât în orice alt tip de comunicare, <strong>text</strong>ul publicitar cultivă ludicul, sub diversele lui<br />
aspecte, şi, ca şi în cazul oricărui alt joc, există şi aici secveţe predictibile şi secvenţe<br />
impredictibile care accentuează interesul participanţilor. Figurile discursului repetat se opun<br />
ambiguităţilor, fiecare având un rol bine determinat. Prezentul studiu analizează mijloacele prin<br />
care se realizează aceste figuri.<br />
35
Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of GALAŢI<br />
Fascicle XIII. New Series.<br />
Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006<br />
pp. 36 - 41<br />
36<br />
Language<br />
and<br />
Literature<br />
PRESA CA ISTORIE ALTERNATIVĂ ÎN MOROMEŢII, DE MARIN<br />
PREDA<br />
Aplicaţii pe <strong>text</strong>e literare<br />
Matei Damian<br />
Studiul următor îşi propune un scurt excurs literar ca pre<strong>text</strong> al tratării unei<br />
problematici extrem de interesante la nivelul subiectului de operă epică: presa şi rolul<br />
acesteia ca motor al conflictului şi al evoluţiei personajelor. Vom începe cu o comparaţie<br />
între romanele Ion, de Liviu Rebreanu, Moromeţii, de Marin Preda, respectiv comedia<br />
Take, Ianke şi Cadîr, de Victor Ion Popa, pentru a ne deda apoi cu totul la delectarea cu<br />
desenul media moromeţian.<br />
Astfel, observăm diferenţe de viziune şi construcţie cu rădăcini adânci în creaţia<br />
primilor doi autori. Spre a atinge problema impactului presei asupra lumii ţărăneşti a<br />
Moromeţilor, ne vor fi de ajutor câteva idei ale lui Mihai Ungheanu, întru reliefarea<br />
distincţiei ce trebuie făcută între cele două planete ale ruralului ce gravitează în opera lui<br />
Rebreanu, respectiv a lui Marin Preda:<br />
„Marin Preda refuză un erou de felul lui Ion, a cărui foame de pământ este<br />
posesivă şi dezumanizantă. Eroul său, dealtfel, nici nu e sărac cu totul, aşa cum era fiul<br />
Glanetaşului. […] Portretul Glanetaşului e făcut din punctul de vedere al unei optici pe<br />
care Moromete ar fi ironizat-o. […] Celelalte calităţi ale lui sunt notate nu cu prea<br />
multă consideraţie. Marin Preda semnalează la ţăran tocmai calităţile pentru care e<br />
desconsiderat Glanetaşul. […]<br />
(Ungheanu, 1973: 234-35)”<br />
„Universul moromeţian cunoaşte o pasiune nouă pentru ceva mult mai puţin sau<br />
aproape deloc concret, pentru ceva abstract, nepipăibil, o realitate depărtată. Dar ceea<br />
ce este cu adevărat revoluţionar pentru mediul şi mentalitatea lui Ion este renunţarea la<br />
pământ . Niculae refuză o proprietate care şi-ar fi putut ulterior manifesta furia ei<br />
posesivă şi a cărei victimă este chiar tatăl său. El aspiră către eliberarea de sub tirania<br />
pământului.[…]<br />
(Ungheanu, 1973: 236)”<br />
„Oamenii constată că loturile sunt extrem de importante pentru ei, dar reuşesc<br />
un fel de detaşare pe care nu trebuie s-o căutăm în romanul Ion. Acolo pământul e<br />
atotputernic, devorant. Marin Preda descrie un alt ţăran, cu altă mentalitate, din altă<br />
perspectivă şi aceasta e cucerirea cea mai de preţ pentru literatura română.<br />
(Ungheanu, 1973: 237)”<br />
Tocmai refuzul învestirii factorului pământ cu rolul de motor al conflictelor face ca<br />
atmosfera romanului Moromeţii să piardă din acea densitate distructivă proprie şi<br />
Răscoalei. După cum preciza Mihai Ungheanu, Preda desenează un nou tip de ţăran, chiar<br />
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<br />
respiraţia e necesar roşie, atunci masele de ţărani nu pot fi decât negre: pare că însuşi<br />
pământul explodează, ca răscolit de furie. De altfel, Miron Iuga pare înghiţit mai mult de o<br />
glie-burete, îmbogăţită cu puţin trup de opincile şerbilor.<br />
Dimpotrivă, romanul Moromeţii nu mestecă pământ, ci sol. După cum recunoaşte şi<br />
M. Ungheanu, conflictele născute funciar sunt rare şi fac parte din lumina de scenă. Chiar<br />
şi personajele protagoniste ale unor astfel de episoade sunt văzute ca marginale, interesantă<br />
fiind şi perspectiva în care ogorul este lăsat în paragină spre a nu încurca treburile în<br />
economia subiectului operei:<br />
„Boţoghină e un personaj cu totul periferic: se îmbolnăveşte de plămâni şi<br />
merge de mai multe ori la medic […] Şi totuşi, cu Boţoghină se întâmplă ceva. El face<br />
un gest tot atât de nou şi de semnificativ ca al lui Niculae Moromete. Boţoghină acceptă<br />
să vândă pământul pentru a se vindeca! Sfatul dat fără speranţă de medic cade pe un<br />
teren rodnic: ţăranul secular, în stare să moară de oftică, dar să nu se atingă de<br />
pământ, este infirmat de iniţiativa lui Boţoghină. Ni-l putem închipui pe Ion al<br />
Glanetaşului vânzând pământ pentru a vindeca de boală pe vreunul din ai săi sau pe<br />
sine?[…]<br />
La fel de nejustificat în economia cărţii pare şi cuplul Birică-Polina. Dar în<br />
acest caz, mai mult ca în celelalte, aspectul de replică ni se înfăţişează convingător.<br />
Birică şi Polina fac o căsătorie din dragoste.[…]<br />
Ca şi în cazul lui Niculae este refuzat pământul şi totodată întreţinută o<br />
aspiraţie care depăşeşte cadrul material. Marin Preda alege personaje şi situaţii în care<br />
vechea mentalitate ţărănească este învinsă de oameni care pun mai presus decât<br />
pământul altceva. Boţoghină pune mai presus decât pământul propria viaţă, Niculae,<br />
şcoala, Birică şi Polina, dragostea lor. Prozatorul Moromeţilor se opreşte asupra<br />
oamenilor eliberaţi de instincte şi de ancestrale tiranii. El descoperă în mediul rural<br />
apetenţe noi şi neobişnuite: puritatea erotică, aspiraţia intelectuală, pasiunea<br />
adevărului. (Ungheanu, 1973: 237-39)”<br />
Într-un astfel de peisaj se coace o gogoaşă de mătase nouă: în furibunda aspiraţie<br />
intelectuală de care vorbeşte Mihai Ungheanu, descoperim o celulă a comentariului literar<br />
pe <strong>text</strong> jurnalistic, un cenaclu şi o agenţie de presă în acelaşi timp: faimoasa Poiană a<br />
finanţatorului Iocan. Precum caielele dintre buzele fierarului, se pierd într-o copită de cal<br />
remarci ca ale învăţătorului Teodorescu: „Am citit ieri în ziare (dumneavoastră dacă nu<br />
ştiţi carte, nu citiţi ziarele)… (Preda, 1981: 294)” sau furii pestriţe ca ale agentului<br />
stăpânirii care vine să jecmănească un om de litere: „Şi mai face şi politică! […] E abonat<br />
la ziar şi foncierea nu vrea s-o plătească. (Preda, 1981: 152)” Cum altfel, dacă nu într-un<br />
climat al celor ce nu simt pământ sau nu iubesc ogor, s-ar fi putut constitui un astfel de<br />
spaţiu, rupt de timp? Bomba cu hidrogen a Răscoalei nu lasă loc vreunui reviriment, însă<br />
corul de creiere de la Iocan e astfel desenat încât să controleze eficient eventualele accese<br />
de piromanie şi să detoneze profesionist roadele grenadelor puberului Ţugurlan. Acesta din<br />
urmă, precum un copil care se forţează să-şi injecteze maturitate, pare a nu accepta din<br />
principiu joaca celorlalţi: „Păi asta e politică ce faceţi voi?! ” , „Nu e nimic de capul<br />
vostru! (Preda, 1981: 132-33)” Echipa de descarcerare trece la treabă extrem de prompt,<br />
prin înşişi protagoniştii săi: Cocoşilă se rezumă la a-i relata rebelului un knock-out cazon<br />
împotriva unuia „de două ori mai mare ca Dumitru lui Nae”, fără însă să se atingă de<br />
Ţugurlan, în timp ce Moromete, fair-play, concluzionează că „trei chestiuni rezultă din cele<br />
spuse de Ţugurlan (Preda, 1981: 134)” În speţă, sunt importante remarcile lui Mihai<br />
Ungheanu, pe care-l cităm din nou:<br />
37
„El aruncase vorbe grele, jignise pe toţi cei prezenţi, inclusiv pe Moromete, dar<br />
prima reacţie a acestuia este să distingă în mânioasele fraze ale lui Ţugurlan o ordine,<br />
un sens. Poate că nici o altă împrejurare nu defineşte mai bine spiritul lui Ilie<br />
Moromete, rasa spirituală a omului, decât ciocnirea de la fierăria lui Iocan. El are<br />
capacitatea de a depăşi evenimentul strict, de a se detaşa de întâmplări şi de a apela la<br />
o operaţie de disociere care caută să menţină adunarea în planul ei de gândire iniţial.<br />
(Ungheanu, 1973: 139)”<br />
În aceeaşi ordine de idei, vom mai insista doar asupra „definiţiilor” pe care le dă<br />
critica adunării din Poiană. Iată, pentru început, opinia Andreei Vlădescu:<br />
„Poiana este […] adevărata scenă , spaţiul confruntărilor în spirit, al multiplicităţii<br />
sensurilor posibile, cadrul privilegiat al deplinei libertăţi interioare, în care eroul joacă rolul<br />
actorului oficiant. (Vlădescu, 1993: 208)”<br />
Şi din nou Mihai Ungheanu:<br />
„Poiana fierăriei lui Iocan este un forum. Aici oamenii se strâng pentru a se<br />
informa, a schimba păreri şi a trăi cel puţin câteva ore pe zi într-un plan sufletesc epurat de<br />
mizeria vieţii zilnice. (Ungheanu, 1973: 139)”<br />
Aşadar, cum ar trebui să privim presa într-un astfel de spaţiu? La prima vedere,<br />
doar ca un pre<strong>text</strong> pentru fiinţarea adunărilor din Poiană, fiindcă un crainic cum e<br />
Moromete nu împarte informaţii, ci desparte ştirea de con<strong>text</strong> grefându-i sensuri proprii. Îi<br />
dăm cuvântul Andreei Vlădescu:<br />
„În scena lecturii, Moromete face din comedia cuvântului un spectacol total,<br />
marcându-l prin mişcare şi intonaţie. La el, cuvântul nu este spus, ci interpretat. […]<br />
Moromete scoate cuvântul din con<strong>text</strong> şi îi conferă un alt sens, proiectându-l din<br />
realitatea sa specifică în lumea satului (Vlădescu, 1993: 209)”, pentru că „ameninţarea<br />
istoriei este pusă între paranteze [şi] devine o comedie, după cum nici personajele care<br />
intervin în repetate rânduri […] nu impun realitatea în jocul din poiană, deşi îi<br />
conturează ameninţările. Pentru lumea interioară, nu există acum un alt univers decât<br />
cel al scenei pe care se desfăşoară jocul spiritului: realitatea agasantă pentru eu<br />
aparţine unui alt spaţiu, situat dincolo de acest cadru. (Vlădescu, 1993: 210)”<br />
Deci ziarul este până la urmă un instrument al ieşirii din istorie; informaţia timpului<br />
imediat care apare în presă este concentrată pe un spaţiu mult mai mic, cel al satului, însă<br />
este adusă spre un când fabulos, aproape atemporal. Prin urmare, dacă la nivelul masei din<br />
Răscoala presa este inexistentă, fiind tradusă în mutanţi de felul unor vestitori serafici, în<br />
cazul grupului de la fierărie impactul ziarului rămâne subdezvoltat în esenţă, nedepăşind<br />
stadiul de machetă, de capodoperă a pre<strong>text</strong>elor. Se iţesc sporadice abonamente la ziar<br />
(Moromete, Iocan, Cocoşilă), însă e clar că schisma juvenilă dintre opinii nu-şi are obârşia<br />
defel în faptul că cei trei abonaţi primesc ziare diferite. Astfel de divergenţe media nu<br />
funcţionează decât ca peceţi ale indignării celor din afara grupului sau ca mărci ale<br />
incertului domino de culoare politică pe care-l joacă protagoniştii.<br />
Mai trebuie menţionate două aspecte interesante, care împing Moromeţii spre<br />
statutul de zonă de tranziţie rural-urban; fiindcă avem în vedere tipul micului<br />
burghez/funcţionar/negustor, vom evidenţia cele de mai sus tot printr-o trimitere la Mihai<br />
Ungheanu, care detectează o arie de apropiere între cei doi poli:<br />
„Cu excepţia lui Ţugurlan, Cocoşilă şi, desigur, Iocan, eroii lui [Marin Preda]<br />
sunt în materie de politică nişte puri. Cazul cel mai ilustrativ este Ilie Moromete. În felul<br />
lui de a gândi politica sunt trăsături care îl pun alături de eroii lui M. Sebastian sau<br />
Camil Petrescu. Apropierea pare exagerată, cu atât mai mult cu cât aceştia sunt eroi de<br />
marcă intelectuală şi citadină ai unor scriitori de pronunţat accent intelectual şi, mai<br />
38
ales, de program literar antirural. Târâţi de curentul absorbant al mişcării politice, şi<br />
unii, şi alţii, însă, indiferent de extracţia socială (s.n.), nu-şi pierd trăsăturile sufleteşti<br />
şi, subliniez, cele intelectuale. Ei sfârşesc dezarmaţi, învinşi, dar consecvenţi. Nu alta<br />
este soarta lui Ilie Moromete. […] Nu dezvăluie aceeaşi incompatibilitate cu politica,<br />
aceeaşi forţă de a rămâne integri, eroii prozelor lui Camil Petrescu? Diferenţele sunt cu<br />
mult mai mici decât s-ar crede. (Ungheanu, 1973: 141-42)”<br />
În acelaşi ton, Ungheanu continuă:<br />
„Urbanizarea literaturii se clădea teoretic pe discreditul de principiu pe care-l<br />
primea orice creaţie ce încerca să folosească materia lumii rurale. Manifestele<br />
citadinismului literar sunt cunoscute. Unul din cei mai febrili şi consecvenţi combatanţi,<br />
dacă nu cel mai proeminent, a fost Camil Petrescu. Surpriza este de a găsi coordonate<br />
comune între proza lui şi aceea a lui Marin Preda, între tipologia personajelor lui şi<br />
cele ale lui Marin Preda. Colocviile de la fierăria lui Iocan sunt testul decisiv al acestei<br />
apropieri. (Ungheanu, 1973: 143)”<br />
Aşadar, iată prima dimensiune a liniei evolutive Răscoala - Moromeţii: de la ruralul<br />
pur la cel intelectualizat, de la PĂMÂNT la pământ, de la vestitorul oral la comentariul<br />
activ al faptului de presă scrisă.<br />
În aceeaşi ordine de idei păşeşte în lumină şi a doua dimensiune, rezumată de<br />
această dată de către Andreea Vlădescu; este disecat aici nu vectorul colocviilor din<br />
Poiană, ci însăşi viziunea moromeţiană asupra politicului, sub aspect discursiv. Sursa e<br />
identificată pe coordonatele trasate anterior de M. Ungheanu:<br />
„Atitudinea lui Moromete şi modalitatea sa de a descifra sensul ascuns sunt<br />
raportabile la memorabila scenă a lecturii gazetei din O noapte furtunoasă. Ca şi Ipingescu,<br />
eroul acordă cuvântului abstract un sens concret, prin stabilirea la nivelul formei a unei<br />
false analogii. (Vlădescu, 1993: 209)”<br />
Glisăm astfel dinspre uliţă spre mahala. În tratarea impactului presei, trebuie<br />
relevată mai întâi extrema importanţă a factorului tabiet în citirea, zilnică sau nu, a gazetei.<br />
Vom merge pe mâna câtorva exemple, fără să neglijăm totodată fotografierea paletei de<br />
variante ale factorului în discuţie. Prima dintre acestea se constituie în formarea<br />
„jurnalului” ca spaţiu securizant, în care protagonistul evadează nu de puţine ori. Presa ca<br />
pre<strong>text</strong> apare şi aici, însă nivelul actului, ca şi obiectul, sunt diferite; pre<strong>text</strong>ualul nu se<br />
precipită de astă dată în umor, spre evadare, fiindcă discuţiile de la Iocan raportau<br />
prezentul la un alt prezent, un spaţiu la altul. Vorbeam în acel caz de evadarea din realul<br />
imediat înspre unul fabricat, având ziarul ca intermediar. Aici, în schimb, realitatea e însuşi<br />
ziarul (ca nud suport scris); acesta e folosit crunt, având o utilitate aproape organică, de<br />
vreme ce conţinutul trece constant în plan secundar. Asistăm în acest prim act urban la<br />
naşterea unei linii involutive: presa scrisă trece de la nivelul de subiect (ridiculizat sau nu)<br />
la sub-nivelul de obiect. Vom vedea cum.<br />
Una dintre verigile cosmopolitului trio de protagonişti ai comediei Take, Ianke şi<br />
Cadîr, de V. I. Popa, este Ianke, tatăl Anei. Cum joaca bătrânească a evreului cu Take<br />
explodează neverosimil într-un conflict (e drept, cu rădăcini de scurt-circuit religios),<br />
încercările de evadare, formale sau nu, devin din ce în ce mai dese, indiferent de mijloace.<br />
În a patra scenă a actului II citim:<br />
„IANKE (enervat, desface jurnalul): Ai văzut? Iar s-au omorât opt astăzi!<br />
[…](Ianke, furios, vâră nasul în jurnal). (Popa, 1969: 246-47)” Nu ne vom mira deci dacă<br />
ziarul va mai rămâne un moment în prim-plan şi la începutul scenei următoare:<br />
„TAKE (intră posomorât): Poftă mare, jidane. (Ianke citeşte ziarul.) Ei, n-auzi mă<br />
frate? Poftă mare! (Popa, 1969: 247)” Vom construi deci facil tandemul ziar (pre<strong>text</strong>) –<br />
39
stare sufletească (con<strong>text</strong>). Citind ziarul, Ianke este mai întâi „enervat”, apoi de-a dreptul<br />
„furios”; doar „posomorât”, Take intră în scenă drept în faţa unui Ianke fără cap: între ei se<br />
interpune gazeta, contaminată (sau contaminantă?!) de dispoziţia toxică a celui ce o citeşte.<br />
Totuşi, şi acest ultim verb poate fi decapitat extrem de uşor: citeşte într-adevăr Ianke<br />
jurnalul? În acest video al scenei a patra, paginile hârtiei de presă foşnesc brusc, evaziv,<br />
într-o mitraliere de stări sufleteşti. E greu de crezut, deci, că evreul citeşte; mult mai<br />
plauzibilă pare lecturarea la repezeală a unui titlu care îi sare în ochi, şi acesta (cum altfel?)<br />
lipit de propriile gânduri şi stări de moment.<br />
În acelaşi con<strong>text</strong> e imperios necesară clădirea unei alăturări cu romanul Moromeţii,<br />
luat mai devreme în discuţie. Întru justificarea aceloraşi coordonate ale involuţiei,<br />
aparţinând acum doar cărţii lui Preda, îl vom cita din nou pe Mihai Ungheanu:<br />
„Dar fisura s-a produs. Poiana lui Iocan va mai găzdui întruniri, dar ele îşi vor<br />
pierde vechea aură, deoarece furia devastatoare a obscurelor forţe care au dus la căderea lui<br />
Ilie Moromete au devastat şi forum-ul local. Întâlnirile ce se ţin aici nu mai sunt decât un<br />
simulacru al fostelor întâlniri. (Ungheanu, 1973: 192)” Celebra „decădere” a şefului<br />
Moromeţilor poate fi tradusă nu numai tradiţional (mult lopătata tăiere a salcâmului, scena<br />
în care fiul cel mare se aşază pe locul care îi aparţinuse doar tatălui etc.), ci şi în termenii<br />
prezentei discuţii. Trecând prin disecarea aproape gastronomică a ziarului, în fierăria lui<br />
Iocan, vom avea sub ochi, spre finalul primului volum, scena următoare:<br />
„- Ilie! şopti mama înspăimântată. Ce-i facem?!<br />
Era la prânz, se aflau toţi în tindă şi aşteptau masa. Hârtia o adusese poşta,<br />
odată cu ziarul. Moromete nici măcar n-o citise, îşi aruncase doar ochii pe plic, văzuse<br />
titulatura băncii şi-l lăsase pe Niculae să-l deschidă. El răsfoia ziarul şi când mama<br />
puse întrebarea ei înspăimântată, se supără şi se răsti la ea… (Preda, 1981: 428)”<br />
Fragmentăm deliberat pasajul pentru câteva momente spre a reliefa situaţia:<br />
protagonistul nu poate accepta stadiul actual în care a ajuns familia, cel al obişnuitei<br />
bunăstări acum ameninţate. El caută să păstreze prin atitudine cadenţa evoluţiei familiei în<br />
vechiul ritm; adiţional, citirea ziarului trebuie să se desfăşoare pe aceleaşi coordonate,<br />
împreună cu refuzul făţiş al celulozei de altă sorginte. După vechiul tipar al ridiculizării<br />
superioare a „percitorului”, plicul cu „titulatura băncii” este scuipat spre Niculae. Tatăl îşi<br />
aruncă „doar ochii” pe plic, preferând să citească ziarul, însă reversul e necruţător: foarte<br />
curând, Moromete va fi constrâns să-şi sporească atenţia vizavi de plicuri şi ştampile, astfel<br />
că ziarul cade inevitabil spre nivelul „Ianke”, cel de mască lipsită de raţiunea literei. De<br />
altfel, pe parcursul aceluiaşi pasaj, Moromete a renunţat deja la citirea ziarului. Analogiile<br />
de atmosferă cu piesa lui V. I. Popa sunt uimitoare:<br />
„- Ce e, fa, ce vreai tu? Nu ştiai? Sau credeai că ăia au uitat? Se supără şi mai<br />
rău (s.n.) şi continuă: Credeai că au pus lacăt la bancă şi s-au dus la secere ca tine?! Se<br />
posomorî, îşi vîrî fruntea în ziar (s.n.) şi încheie: Uite colo caii în grajd şi oile… Ne<br />
ducem la obor, vindem şi gata socoteala!<br />
[…] O să curgă trenţele de pe noi şi-o să ajungem ca şofranul.<br />
Moromete se posomorî, îşi vîrî fruntea în ziar şi nu mai zise nimic.(s.n.)<br />
(Preda, 1981: 428-29)”, pe când „Ianke, furios, îşi vâră nasul în jurnal.” Aceeaşi<br />
reacţie defensivă în faţa realităţii necruţătoare, având ca paravan ziarul, uneşte ţăranul<br />
şi negustorul de „târguşor provincial”.<br />
Fără pretenţia de a friza completul, acest material s-a vrut a fi ceva mai mult decât<br />
un inventar: anume o trecere în revistă a dimensiunii media ca o componentă a genezei şi<br />
evoluţiei subiectului literar.<br />
40
REFERINŢE:<br />
Popa, V. I. (1969). Take, Ianke şi Cadîr, Bucureşti: Editura de Stat pentru Literatură şi Artă<br />
Ungheanu, M. (1973). Marin Preda: vocaţie şi aspiraţie, Bucureşti: Editura Eminescu<br />
Preda, M. (1981). Moromeţii, vol. I, Bucureşti: Editura Cartea Românească<br />
Vlădescu, A. (1993). Marin Preda sau triumful conştiinţei, Bucureşti: Editura Cartea Românească<br />
Abstract<br />
The present study casts a few beams on the fact of press in the novel Moromeţii, by Marin Preda.<br />
We shall not limit ourselves to just narrating the commentaries on the newspaper information<br />
form Poiana lui Iocan (Iocan’s clearing) but we intend to highlight the double role of the written<br />
press in the evolution of the main character: the history reduced to the dimensions of the rural,<br />
on the one hand and the newspaper as a pre<strong>text</strong> for claustration, for an acute state of denial, on<br />
the other hand. We shall see that the both instances belong to history: the former, no matter how<br />
goodwilling is built artificially, so it will not stand the seige of the latter which is cruel and<br />
irrevocable.<br />
Résumé<br />
La présente étude propose quelques „rayons” jetés sur le fait de presse dans le roman Moromeţii<br />
de Marin Preda. Nous n’allons pas nous limiter à une description des commentaires sur<br />
l’information journalistique de Poiana lui Iocan (le bois de Iocan), mais nous voulons mettre en<br />
évidence le double rôle de la presse écrite dans l’évolution du personnage principal : l’histoire<br />
réduite au niveau rural, d’un coté et, de l’autre coté, le journal en tant que pré<strong>text</strong>e de la<br />
claustration, de l’état du refus absolu. Nous verrons que les deux hypostases appartiennent à<br />
l’histoire : la première, quelque bienveillante qu’elle soit, est construite d’une manière<br />
artificielle, de sorte qu’elle ne résiste pas à l’assaut de la deuxième, cruelle et irrévocable.<br />
Rezumat<br />
Prezentul studiu propune câteva raze aruncate asupra faptului de presă în romanul Moromeţii,<br />
de Marin Preda. Nu ne limităm la a relata comentariile pe marginea informaţiei de ziar din<br />
Poiana lui Iocan, ci dorim a evidenţia dublul rol al presei scrise în evoluţia personajului<br />
principal: istoria redusă la rural, pe de o parte, şi ziarul ca pre<strong>text</strong> al claustrării, al stării acute<br />
de refuz, pe de altă parte. Vom vedea că ambele ipostaze aparţin istoriei: prima, oricât de<br />
binevoitoare, este construită artificial, astfel că nu va rezista la asediul celei de-a doua, crudă şi<br />
irevocabilă.<br />
41
Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of GALAŢI<br />
Fascicle XIII. New Series.<br />
Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006<br />
pp. 42 - 45<br />
42<br />
Language<br />
and<br />
Literature<br />
ISAAC ASIMOV VS. THE FRANKENSTEIN COMPLEX<br />
Petru Iamandi<br />
To Isaac Asimov, who calls the fear of mechanical intelligence the “Frankenstein<br />
complex” (Warrick, 2002:170), machines just take over dehumanizing activities and thus<br />
allow humans to become more human. “The […] computer,” he states, “is far superior at<br />
those mental tasks that are dull, repetitive, stultifying and degrading, leaving to human<br />
beings themselves the far greater work of creative thought in every field from art and<br />
literature to science and ethics.” (Warrick, 2002:170)<br />
Literarily, Asimov upholds his statement by the three laws of robotics that he himself<br />
devised, analogous to the Ten Commandments in the Old Testament (Moore, 1976:101):<br />
1. A robot may not injure a human being nor, through inaction, allow a human being<br />
to come to harm.<br />
2. A robot must obey the orders given it by human beings except where such orders<br />
would conflict with the First Law.<br />
3. A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict<br />
with the First or Second Law. (Asimov, 1983:269-270).<br />
These laws, which are obviously designed to protect humans from any harm resulting<br />
directly or indirectly from the action of a robot, are written into the robot’s positronic brain.<br />
More than that, in Asimov’s stories at least, only robots with this powerful safeguard are<br />
produced and they are manufactured by the same company - United States Robots and<br />
Mechanical Men, Inc.<br />
Asimov’s laws, however, are more like moral rules that can be easily broken, many<br />
of their features resembling those of traditional ethical norms, as Susan Calvin, on of the<br />
characters in “Evidence” (1946), says:<br />
[…] if you stop to think of it, the three Rules of Robotics are the essential guiding<br />
principles of a good many of the world’s ethical systems. Of course, every human<br />
being is supposed to have the instinct of self-preservation. That’s Rule Three to a<br />
robot. Also every “good” human being, with a social conscience and a sense of<br />
responsibility, is supposed to defer authority […] even when they interfere with his<br />
comfort or his safety. That’s Rule Two to a robot. Also, every “good” human being is<br />
supposed to love others as himself, protect his fellow man, risk his life to save another.<br />
That’s Rule One to a robot. (Asimov, 1983:530)<br />
The main difference is that, while robots invariably submit to these rules, humans tend to<br />
break them all the time. Maybe that is the reason why the same Susan Calvin adds, “I like<br />
robots. I like them considerably better than I do human beings.” (Asimov, 1983:544)<br />
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<br />
answer to social and moral problems.” (Wolfe, 1979:158).<br />
Asimov’s themes<br />
Many of Asimov’s robot stories explore the way in which the three laws influence the manmachine<br />
relationship, the author rarely using dramatic conflict to develop his plot. It is a<br />
puzzle or problem that he more often than not brings to the foreground and the suspense<br />
thus created moves the plot forward. The action is more cerebral than physical and follows<br />
the scientific method pattern: defining the puzzle/problem; collecting and evaluating the<br />
data; forming the hypothesis and the possible solution; testing the solution and, if this is not<br />
correct, re-examining the process until discovering the difficulty.<br />
Identity confusion. Although Asimov strongly insists that, “My robots were<br />
machines designed by engineers, not pseudo-men created by blasphemers” (Frude,<br />
1984:89), he deliberately creates confusion between robots and people. Some of his<br />
characters appear as robots firs, to be revealed as people later, while in other stories the<br />
process is reversed or ambiguity is preserved until the end, leaving the reader in a state of<br />
uncertainty. In “Evidence,” for instance, Susan Calvin is called in to help decide whether a<br />
prominent politician is a human or a robot. Resorting to the three laws, she uses the<br />
following line of reasoning: if the politician obeys the laws, he could be either a human or a<br />
robot; if he does not obey the laws, he cannot be a robot, therefore he is a man. The minute<br />
the politician punches an opponent the problem seems to be solved, but Calvin explains<br />
that a robot might appear to break the first law only when the “person” harmed is not a<br />
human but a robot.<br />
Humanization. Even when their identity is not in doubt, Asimov’s robots get<br />
features which humanize them. The author care<strong>full</strong>y provides not only their specific<br />
physical details but also their personality characteristics, creating essentially human<br />
“personalities” which push the basic function of the machines into the background.<br />
Such engaging robots often stimulate emotional attachments in the humans around<br />
them, as in Asimov’s first robot story, “Robbie” (1940), in which the machine listens in<br />
rapt attention while Gloria, an eight-year-old girl, reads him his favourite fairy tale. Since<br />
Robbie enjoys all Gloria’s games, the girl’s mother gets worried, in spite of her husband<br />
reassuring her that, “Robbie was constructed for only one purpose really – to be the<br />
companion of a little child. His entire ‘mentality’ has been created for the purpose. He just<br />
can’t help being faithful and loving and kind. He’s a machine – made so.” (Asimov,<br />
1983:171) Robbie’s impact on Gloria is extreme, the girl preferring to spend all her time<br />
with him and, when her mother replaces him with a dog, she screams, “He was not no<br />
machine. […] He was a person just like you and me and he was my friend. I want him<br />
back.” (Asimov, 1983:175)<br />
The relationship between robots and the humans they interact with can also be<br />
maternal or romantic. Susan Calvin, a psychologist specialized in robot psychology, tends<br />
to treat robots as colleagues and in “Lennie” (1958) she teaches a retarded robot to speak,<br />
his first words being, “Mommie, I want you. I want you, Mommie” (Asimov, 1983:384).<br />
And the psychologist hurries longingly toward “the only kind of baby she could ever have<br />
or love” (Asimov, 1983:384).<br />
Most of Asimov’s robots are male and this limits the possibility for human-machine<br />
romantic relationships. There is no femme fatale robot in his stories, the explanation being<br />
indirectly offered by one of the characters in “Feminine Intuition” (1969): “No woman<br />
wants to feel replaceable by something with none of her faults” (Asimov, 1983:582)<br />
43
In “Satisfaction Guaranteed” (1951), however, Asimov does not reject the possibility that a<br />
woman might fall in love with one of his robots. Claire Belamont is irresistibly attracted<br />
toward Tony, a sophisticated robot, extremely handsome and well-mannered. Soon Claire<br />
will share all his emotional problems and be impressed by the robot’s understanding<br />
attitude: “Why did she keep forgetting that he was a machine. […] Was she so starved for<br />
sympathy that she would accept a robot as an equal - because he sympathized?” (Asimov,<br />
1983:357) But while Tony behaves according to the three laws of robotics, Clair gives vent<br />
to her passion to later discover that “machines can’t fall in love, but – even when it’s<br />
hopeless and horrifying – women can!” (Asimov, 1983:367)<br />
The robots’ rights and evolution is the theme of Asimov’s masterpiece, a novella<br />
called The Bicentennial Man (1976). Told in twenty-three episodes, it covers two hundred<br />
years in the life of the robot Andrew Martin. Inverting the classical approach – man<br />
examining artificial intelligence – Asimov has Andrew explore the nature and implications<br />
of human intelligence.<br />
At first, Andrew is a household robot that serves the Martin family, much the role<br />
of Robbie. But Andrew produces exquisite wood carvings, an unusual talent which, as a<br />
robopsychologist suggests, must be the result of a mutation of the robot’s positronic brain.<br />
Andrew’s owner realizes there might be a market for the robot’s works of art and opens a<br />
bank account in the robot’s name. Andrew uses the money to pay for his own repairs and,<br />
when he has grown rich enough, he declares he wants to buy his freedom. Since this is a<br />
legal matter, the Martin family takes the case to court. After a long struggle, the court<br />
declares Andrew free stating that, “There is no right to deny freedom to any object with a<br />
mind advanced enough to grasp the concept and desire the state.” (Asimov, 1983:646)<br />
Andrew has a house built near his former owner’s, begins to wear clothes, which<br />
make him feel human, and decides to go to the public library in order to increase his<br />
understanding of human affairs. On his way to the library two young men accost him, ask<br />
him to take off his clothes, and want to dismantle him. Saved in the nick of time, Andrew<br />
hires a lawyer and starts to fight for robot rights. In his plea, the lawyer says that, “a robot<br />
is not insensible; it is not an animal. It can think well enough to enable it to talk to us,<br />
reason with us, joke with us. Can we treat them as friends, can we work together with them,<br />
and not give them some of the fruit of that friendship, some of the benefit of co-working?<br />
[…] With great power goes great responsibility, and if the robots have Three Laws to<br />
protect men, is it too much to ask that men have a law or two to protect robots?” (Asimov,<br />
1983:656-657) Finally the principle of robot rights is established.<br />
Andrew writes a history of robots and intends to use the royalties to replace his<br />
mechanical body by an organic android structure. After a long series of operations his<br />
metal shell is replaced with the type of body he has longed for. Nevertheless, Andrew is far<br />
from being happy. By now generations of Martins have passed and the robot realizes that<br />
mortality is a necessary condition of humanness. And he makes the ultimate sacrifice – he<br />
gives up his deathless inorganic brain to fulfil his greatest dream: to be as nearly human as<br />
possible.<br />
Asimov’s novella, as Patricia Warrick points out, follows both the movement of<br />
mechanical intelligence toward human intelligence and death, and man’s development of<br />
technology and movement toward artificial intelligence and immortality (Warrick,<br />
2002:177) Knowledge eventually dies in the organic brain, but it can survive in a<br />
mechanical one. Thus the inorganic form may well be the only form for the survival of<br />
intelligence in the universe. A second implication of the novella is that the line between the<br />
organic and the inorganic seems to be extremely blurred. If the essential elements of the<br />
universe are matter, energy, and intelligence, then man is not unique, on the contrary he<br />
exists on a continuum with all intelligence, and ethical behaviour extends to all systems<br />
44
ecause any organizational pattern – human or nonhuman, organic or inorganic –<br />
represents intelligence – a “sacred view of the universe, the result not of religious<br />
mysticism but of pure logic” (Warrick, 2002:177).<br />
REFERENCES<br />
Asimov, Isaac. (1983). The Complete Robot, London: Grafton Books.<br />
Frude, Neil. (1984). The Robot Heritage, London: Guild Publishing.<br />
Moore, Maxine. (1976). “Asimov, Calvin, and Moses” in T. D. Clareson (ed.), Voices forthe Future:<br />
Essays on Major Science Fiction Writers, vol. 1, Bowling Green: The Bowling Green University<br />
Popular Press.<br />
Warrick, Patricia S. (2002) “Asimov and the Morality of Artificial Intelligence” in Jesse G.<br />
Cunningham (ed.), Science Fiction, San Diego: Greenhaven Press, Inc.<br />
Wolfe, Gary K. (1979). The Known and the Unknown, Kent: The Kent State UP.<br />
Abstract<br />
In his stories, Isaac Asimov rejects the fear of artificial intelligence, which he calls the<br />
Frankenstein Complex, claiming that machines, no matter how advanced they are, cannot but<br />
ease man’s life by taking over the most dehumanizing activities. The author upholds this idea by<br />
putting forward the so-called laws of robotics which, being inserted in the robots’ minds,<br />
prevents them from affecting man’s integrity. Asimov’s stories, whose favourite themes are<br />
confusing identity, humanization, robots’ rights and evolution, ingeniously show that, no matter<br />
how hard they try, robots are not able to betray the human beings; on the contrary, their<br />
irresistable temptation is to be taken for them.<br />
Résumé<br />
Dans ses contes, Isaac Asimov rejette la crainte de l’intelligence artificielle qu’il nomme le<br />
« complexe Frankenstein », soutenant l’idée que les machines, quelques évoluées qu’elles soient,<br />
ne font qu’alléger la vie de l’homme, en prenant la charge de ses plus deshumanisantes activités.<br />
L’auteur traduit son idée par l’élaboration des soi-disant lois de la robotique qui, par l’insertion<br />
dans le cerveau des robots, empêchent ces derniers de porter atteinte à l’intégrité de l’homme.<br />
Ces contes où les thèmes de prédilection sont la mêlée des identités, l’humanisation, les droits et<br />
l’évolution des robots, démontrent avec ingéniosité que les robots, quoi qu’ils fassent, ne peuvent<br />
trahir les gens mais, bien au contraire, éprouvent l’irrésistible tentation de se confondre avec<br />
eux.<br />
Rezumat<br />
In povestirile lui, Isaac Asimov respinge teama de inteligenţa artificială, pe care o numeşte<br />
„Complexul Frankenstein”, susţinând că maşinile, indiferent cât de evoluate ar fi, nu fac decât să<br />
uşureze viaţa omului prin preluarea celor mai dezumanizante activităţi. Autorul îşi susţine ideea<br />
prin elaborarea aşa-numitelor legi ale roboticii care, prin inserţia în creierul roboţilor, îi<br />
împiedică pe aceştia să atenteze într-un fel sau altul la integritatea omului. Povestirile lui, în care<br />
temele predilecte sunt confundarea identităţii, umanizarea, drepturile şi evoluţia roboţilor,<br />
demonstrează cu ingeniozitate că, oricât de mult ar încerca, roboţii nu-i pot trăda pe oameni ci,<br />
dimpotrivă, tentaţia lor irezistibilă este de a se confunda cu ei.<br />
45
Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of GALAŢI<br />
Fascicle XIII. New Series.<br />
Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006<br />
pp. 46 - 52<br />
46<br />
Language<br />
and<br />
Literature<br />
OMOTETII FRACTALE ÎN MEMENTO MORI DE M.EMINESCU<br />
Nicoleta Ifrim<br />
Exacerbând algebricul şi analiticul în defavoarea imaginii, gândirea ştiinţifică<br />
modernă se depărtează progresiv de dinamica plurală a formelor, preferând unilateralul<br />
obiect fizic, fapt comentat de B.Mandelbrot în eseul Zbor deasupra limbajelor fractale, în<br />
Obiectele fractale, ediţia a treia din 1989. Teoreticianul fractalilor aduce în discuţie<br />
problematica crizei ştiinţifice actuale, în condiţiile în care individul devine martorul<br />
genezei unei noi ştiinţe care postulează primatul imaginii şi care nu mai aderă la absolutul<br />
nonfiguralului abstract. „Gândirea prin intermediul imaginilor” devine astfel o modalitate<br />
de apropriere a lumii, dar şi a universului poetic; căci,<br />
„dacă aşa cum crede Mandelbrot, geometria fractală reprezintă o reacţie a imaginii<br />
împotriva ascezei iconoclaste a gândirii algebrice, atunci speranţa într-o nouă ştiinţă revine<br />
în fond la nostalgia privind reintegrarea vechiului tip de imaginar, pe suprimarea căruia,<br />
tocmai, ştiinţa modernă se edificase [...] Poate că ceea ce este implicat în această nouă<br />
dispută a imaginilor este de fapt reintegrarea unui subiect cunoscător reconciliat cu propria<br />
sa istorie, adică, în fond, cu întregul cuprins al ontologiei sale. Regăsim astfel, la omul<br />
european, faptul că imaginalul reapare latent atunci când revendicarea nevoii de imaginar<br />
este mai nestăvilită.” (Patapievici, 2005:292)<br />
La rândul său, creatorul se află sub incidenţa unor astfel de forţe fenomenologicformatoare<br />
care dirijează tacit raportul cu transcendenţa, căutată mai ales în decodificarea<br />
figurală a „stărilor interioare”, poetic marcate de trăirea / devenirea temporală. Intrând în<br />
„jocul cu timpul”, eul nu se află subjugat acestuia, ci îi imaginează metamorfozele, căci<br />
„virtualizându-se, subiectul scapă câte puţin devenirii; el nu mai face propriuzis<br />
parte din ea, ci devine capabil dimpotrivă de a o domina şi integra în largă măsură.<br />
Din aceeaşi cauză el se temporalizează. În loc de a fi purtat de ea, subiectul o înţelege,<br />
graţie virtualităţilor care se constituie în mod uman. Deoarece se potenţializează, omul<br />
devine prin intermediul gândirii survolare a timpului şi capacitate de a rosti lumea.”<br />
(Jacob apud Chioaru 2000: 13)<br />
Nu altceva spune eminescianul vers din Epigonii, care sugerează o construcţie<br />
virtuală, temporal marcată, a lumii drept coerenţă a imaginii: „Ochiul vostru vedea-n lumea<br />
de icoane un palat.”<br />
Pornind de la aceste premise, de la nevoia acută de potenţare a „setei de imagine”,<br />
poemul Memento mori se decriptează prin mecanismul fractal al complexităţii figurale<br />
inculcate de „starea interior-poetică” a eului eminescian, care urmează traseul „punerii în<br />
formă” pe direcţia matrice – realizat. Poemul adoptă o structură conceptual – fractalică ce<br />
acţionează asupra gândirii creatoare eminesciene drept „configuraţie euristică” (H.-<br />
R.Patapievici), care modelează intrinsec forma internă a reprezentărilor poetice. „Plonjarea
în istoricitate” se transformă în paradigmă creatoare ce implică un mecanism<br />
mandelbrotian de actualizare în universul poetic, cel al generării de forme prin reiterare<br />
fractală. Procedeul cere în subsidiar o necesară schimbare de focalizare critică, de la<br />
unitatea <strong>text</strong>uală individuală la observarea simetriilor recursive între nivelele <strong>text</strong>ualpoetice.<br />
Convertind stările interioare în analogii figurale, discursul poetic din Memento<br />
mori construieşte vizionar un parcurs al „trecerii” contemplative prin forme de civilizaţie,<br />
pe baza unui generator de tip mandelbrotian, „reproducerea în abis, prin diferenţe, a<br />
autosimilarelor” sau „creşterea prin amplificare / diferenţiere” şi generând, „fără a-şi pierde<br />
identitatea, forme şi conţinuturi non-identice.” (Patapievici: 288) Coexistenţa formelor<br />
istoricizate în acelaşi univers al poemului, determinate de principiul mandelbrotian al<br />
expansiunii, legitimează sub<strong>text</strong>ual figura geometrică a fractalului, promovând drept fir<br />
director al gândirii eminesciene „regula identicilor diferiţi” despre care vorbeşte<br />
Patapievici, în con<strong>text</strong>ul mai larg al filosofiei religiilor:<br />
„Oricare secvenţă a reproducerii similare este autosimilară în oricare din<br />
părţile ei, astfel că va exista mereu o dimensiune care să pună în evidenţă diferitul şi o<br />
alta care să evidenţieze identicul. Această serie infinită, generată prin angrenarea de<br />
identic şi diferit după o regulă a autosimilarităţii, poartă în matematică numele de<br />
fractal. Figura geometrică a creştinismului pare a fi, astfel, fractalul. (Fireşte, eu nu<br />
operez aici cu identificări ontologice, de tipul creştinismul este un fractal: susţin mai<br />
degrabă ideea că noţiunea de fractal este consecinţa unei anumite traduceri, în limbaj<br />
natural, a unei realităţi teologice creştine, bazată şi ea pe autosimilarităţi şi solidarităţi<br />
de tip formă / conţinut, rezultate din modul în care limbajul a putut primi revelaţia<br />
creştină).” (Patapievici:277)<br />
În acest sens, am putea afirma că, în Memento mori, figura geometrică a<br />
imaginarului eminescian, cea care îi poate surprinde complexităţile dinamice dar şi<br />
autosimilarităţile interioare, este fractalul, ceea ce reconfigurează morfo-genezic<br />
dominantele romantice ale onirismului de tip thanatic. Sau, viziunea fractalică devine un<br />
adevărat „model cosmologic”, aşa cum este definit acesta de Ioana Em.Petrescu:<br />
„Considerăm că modelul cosmologic constituie o realitate de profunzime a viziunii,<br />
depăşind în adâncime nivelul conştiinţei teoretice (ştiinţifice), dar şi nivelul materialului<br />
mitic din care se constituie viziunile cosmogonice explicite din operele literare, pentru că<br />
modelul cosmologic este expresia sentimentului existenţei în lume, a raporturilor originare<br />
pe care fiinţa le stabileşte cu universul.” (Ioana Em.Petrescu, 2005:21) Orientat spre<br />
surprinderea devenirii continue a universului, care creşte imploziv prin repetitivitatea<br />
diferenţiată a propriilor autosimilarităţi, modelul cosmologic fractalic din Memento mori<br />
îşi revelă propria esenţă principială în potenţarea poetică a consubstanţialităţii fiinţă –<br />
univers, o reintegrare a statutului ontologic în diversitatea morfogenezică a lumii la care<br />
are acces prin contemplare onirică şi descătuşare thanatică. Vorbim, în acest con<strong>text</strong>,<br />
despre spaţiul onirico-thanatic ca fundal pentru proiectarea mecanismului fractal al<br />
autosimilarităţii, care permite creşterea interioară a complexităţii viziunilor poematice prin<br />
asumarea raportului infinit (ieşire din formă şi plonjare în multiplicitatea istorizată) – finit<br />
(actualizare şi punere în formă conotată temporal).<br />
Această relaţie dinamică bi-univocă păstrează ceva din amprenta paradigmei<br />
romantice, care operează cu transgresiuni vizionare ale spaţio-temporalităţii spre a<br />
surprinde mecanismul universal al rotirii civilizaţiilor, căci<br />
„eul liric din Memento mori, păscându-şi , pune stăpânire pe<br />
roata istoriei, renaşte din haos lumile cuprinse de moarte şi devine spectatorul<br />
triumfului viitor al nefiinţei. Îndeosebi prin intermediul somnului şi visului sunt puse în<br />
47
valoare virtualităţile ilimitării. Graţie acestora, eul capătă demiurgie, forţele gândului<br />
se descătuşează, se ascultă şi se înfăptuiesc, iar poetul îşi subordonează haosul<br />
pătrunzându-l de propria-i coerenţă. Trecerea din planul vigil în cel oniric este<br />
echivalentă, mai totdeauna, cu ieşirea din claustrare în fără margini: ” (Melian, 1987:11)<br />
De de altă parte, coexistenţa avatarică a lumilor circumscrise istoric din Memento<br />
mori conferă esenţă unui Weltanschauung eminescian, din care nu poate lipsi<br />
„ideea de moarte privită ca un corolar al ideii de viaţă. Ea nu numai că a fost<br />
una din cele patru mari teme romantice pe lângă natură, iubire, şi divinitate, ci chiar un<br />
sentiment, din ale cărei trăiri s-au chintesenţiat idei generale, unele care ţin de<br />
domeniul religiei ca ideea de reîncarnare progresivă şi regresivă (palingeneza şi<br />
metempsihoza), ca şi ideea de reminiscenţă (anamnesis), adesea prezentă în intuiţia<br />
omului de geniu. Domeniul psihologic a fost îmbogăţit cu noţiunea de archaeus, în<br />
înţeles monadic sau de arhetip platonic. Vieţile în succesiunea lor fiind experienţe în<br />
care arhetipul s-a transpus. Totalitatea acestor vieţi ar fi sau<br />
, pe când eternitatea din arheu e sau<br />
[...]. La Eminescu, moartea nu-i definitivă pentru că geniul ei nu-i decât<br />
al unei eternităţi cu graniţi [...]. Problema morţii se poate însă întregi în<br />
Weltanschauung-ul eminescian alături de categorii ca devenire, unitate, infinit, timp şi<br />
spaţiu chemate să explice prezenţa unui Univers deschis. La Eminescu, sugestiile pe<br />
care le oferă poezia şi preocupările sale fragmentare de filosofie, atrag atenţia asupra<br />
unor atribute fundamentale ale cosmosului, cum ar fi eternitatea şi schimbarea continuă<br />
pe care poetul le-a numit . [...] Ideea de univers închis nu<br />
mai putea fi acceptată, şi apercepţia romantică îl ducea fără echivoc la starea de<br />
pluralitate a lumilor, proliferantă pentru fantezia romantică. Corespondenţele vizibile<br />
între om şi cosmos pe care geniile le-au intuit prin gândirea lor mitică, puteau fi<br />
sugestia unui cosmos a cărui existenţă e numai circulară, cum întâlnim în Cu mâne<br />
zilele-ţi adaugi, Glossă, Scrisoarea I. Pe tot atâtea argumente pledează pentru un<br />
univers ce se dezvoltă în spirală, idee mai aproape de evoluţionismul şi proteismul<br />
romantic.” (Aurel Petrescu, 1985: 65-66)<br />
Actualizând o adevărată „vocaţie a visului”(Ioana Em.Petrescu), Memento mori<br />
devine astfel un proiect programatico-poematic al „timpului cascadă” în care „poezia şi<br />
visul se exersează în a întoarce înapoi , trecând prin <br />
ale fiecărei civilizaţii, spre timpul ei echinoxial, în care şi-a gândit zeii şi şi-a construit<br />
miturile.” (Ioana Em.Petrescu, 2005:113)<br />
Acelaşi mecanism al structurării „în cascadă” este asumat şi de Mandelbrot în<br />
explicarea funcţionalităţii creşterii fractale a formei, care îşi recuperează identitatea<br />
totalizatoare prin coexistenţa regresivă a autosimilarelor sau, altfel spus, prin „punere<br />
implozivă în formă” a omotetiilor interne. Tot în acelaşi fel este construită şi viziunea<br />
onirică din Memento mori asupra temporalităţii istoricizate, cele două categorii temporale<br />
prevalente, „timpul echinoxial” şi „timpul solstiţial” fiind corelativele dominantelor<br />
spaţiale, infinit şi finit, sau, în sens fractalic, ale celor doi topoi – „ieşirea din formă” şi<br />
„punerea în formă.” Apropriindu-şi visul şi moartea ca posibităţi generice de transgresare<br />
spaţială din formă în formă, repetând astfel identicul, dar evidenţiind diferitul, discursul<br />
poetic construieşte viziunea „declinului ciclic al civilizaţiilor” ca morfo-geneză temporală<br />
pe cele două coordonate:<br />
48
„Timpul – şi el rotitor – se reîntoarce ritmic spre momentele sale aurorale,<br />
revitalizându-se într-o perpetuă tinereţe. Aici, la izvoare, <br />
veşnic, străini istoriei (adică eroziunii), ritmând o coregrafie astrală etern identică sieşi.<br />
Este un timp pe care l-am putea numi, metaforic, echinoxial, al cumpenei în etern<br />
echilibru, un timp care nu cunoaşte dramele ruperii, opririi, declinului, un timp sferic,<br />
pe care imaginaţia îl aseamănă calotei sferice a universului platonician, ale cărei<br />
puncte sunt, toate, echidistante faţă de propriu-i centru. Timpul echinoxial este timp<br />
cosmic, cel în care grecii vedeau imaginea mobilă a eternităţii, cel pe care Eminescu îl<br />
vede măsurat, în adâncul codrilor veşnici, de cântul monoton al greierilor, orologii<br />
cosmice ( – Memento mori). Şi, tot<br />
metaforic vorbind, dar utilizând de astă dată o metaforă esenţială a universului poetic<br />
eminescian, timpul îşi pierde caracterul cosmic de imagine mobilă a eternităţii şi<br />
primeşte un caracter istoric (comportând adică eroziunea, ruperea, stagnarea,<br />
degradarea) atunci când iese de sub semnul echinoxului şi intră sub semnul solstiţiului.<br />
Marile crize istorice ale umanităţii (văzute ca tot atâtea amurguri ale zeilor) sunt<br />
înscrise de Eminescu în Memento mori, sub semnul înţeles ca<br />
ruptură tragică în raport cu continuitatea perpetuă a timpului echinoxial: ” (Ioana Em.Petrescu, 2005: 61)<br />
Cele două categorii temporale, în schimb, se desprind de tentaţia antinomiei<br />
romantice realitate – idealitate, nu mai apeleză la o viziune compensatorie, de transformare<br />
utopică a unei lumi reale efemere şi lipsite de autenticitate, ci se înscriu dialectic într-o<br />
poetică fractală a coexistenţei în durată, pentru care somnia thanatică devine o soluţie<br />
asumată de autentificare a complexităţii în mişcare, în care eul îşi resimte integrată condiţia<br />
ontologică. În acest fel, Memento mori, „marele poem al naşterii şi morţii civilizaţiilor”,<br />
recitit prin grila hermenuticii fractale, devine o panoramare mandelbrotiană a formelor<br />
„măririi” şi „căderii” văzute în succesiunea temporalităţii lor, pentru care „lumea cea<br />
aievea” (şi corolarul său – timpul solstiţial) şi „lumea-nchipuirii” (cu corespondentul<br />
temporal al echinoxiului) sunt etapele omotetice ale construcţiei fractale şi nu mai<br />
angajează o dichotomie structurală care ar fracţiona antitetic discursul. Modelul fractal al<br />
coexistenţei „identicilor diferiţi” estompează radicala opoziţie structurală de sorginte<br />
romantică, în virtutea existenţei unui eu care contemplă lumea în diversitatea formelor ei şi<br />
le urmăreşte geneza interioară perpetuă conform desideratului mandelbrotian al<br />
surprinderii diferitului în identic: „Una-i lumea-nchipuirii cu-a ei visuri fericite, / Alta-i<br />
lumea cea aievea, unde cu sudori muncite / Te încerci a stoarce lapte din a stâncei coaste<br />
seci; / Una-i lumea-nchipuirii cu-a ei mândre flori de aur, / Alta unde cerci viaţa s-ontocmeşti<br />
precum un faur / Cearc-a da fierului aspru forma cugetării reci.”<br />
Din alt punct de vedere, reconstruind poetic lumea sau, mai bine spus, regăsind<br />
sensul istoric al formelor mundane prin permisiva dimensiune oniric-contemplativă, eul<br />
liric din Memento mori transcende individualul pentru a recupera pluralul, fiind o<br />
conştiinţă care descifrează limbajul formelor lumii în succesiunea lor implozivă. În acest<br />
fel, incipitul poemului trasează cadrele estetice programatice între care va avea loc morfogeneza<br />
fractală a lumilor, oniricul şi thanaticul constituind cele două nivele fundamentale<br />
în reiterarea omotetiilor interne ale viziunii poetice, de altfel înţelese, în sens<br />
mandelbrotian, ca bază a mecanismului „creşterii” fractale datorită celor două caracteristici<br />
implicite, contemplarea şi eludarea limitelor individualului:<br />
„Turma visurilor mele eu le pasc ca oi de aur, / Când a nopţii întunerec —<br />
înstelatul rege maur — / Lasă norii lui molateci înfoiaţi în pat ceresc, / Iară luna<br />
49
argintie, ca un palid dulce soare, / Vrăji aduce peste lume printr-a stelelor ninsoare, /<br />
Când în straturi luminoase basmele copile cresc. / Mergi, tu, luntre-a vieţii mele, pe-a<br />
visării lucii valuri / Până unde-n ape sfinte se ridică mândre maluri, / Cu dumbrăvi de<br />
laur verde şi cu lunci de chiparos, / Unde-n ramurile negre o cântare-n veci suspină, /<br />
Unde sfinţii se preîmblă în lungi haine de lumină, / Unde-i moartea cu - aripi negre şi cu<br />
chipul ei frumos.”<br />
Acestora li se asociază, inedit, formula unui „patriotism selenar” cu funcţie de<br />
transfigurare a „realului istoric în mitologie personală” (Mihăilescu, 1982:225), punând în<br />
relaţie „lumina esenţializatoare a lunii şi cea fenomenalizantă a soarelui” (Mihăilescu,<br />
1982:227), aşa cum o dovedesc variantele versului „Iară luna argintie, ca un palid dulce<br />
soare”: „Pe când luna de argint aleargă palidul al morţii soare”, „luna de argint a vieţii<br />
somnoroase palid soare”. Cunoaşterea solară, pe de altă parte, marchează o gnoseologie a<br />
afirmării formelor, a surprinderii lor într-o identitate prezentificată, recognoscibilă, este o<br />
modalitate de cunoaştere a „punerii în formă”, perceptibilă categorial, pe când cunoaşterea<br />
selenară indică, dimpotrivă, negarea, căutarea apofatică a formei care-şi eludează propriile<br />
limite individuale pentru a se reflecta infinit în diversitatea lumii. „Investirea lunii cu<br />
atributul solar [...] indică voinţa poetului de a răsturna o lume de valori şi a o repune sub<br />
lumina rece a cunoaşterii, în numele unei căutări neobosite, după primordialitate şi<br />
esenţial”, convertindu-se „în sistemul imaginativ eminescian energia care măsoară,<br />
supraveghează şi în-semnează devenirea.” (Mihăilescu, 1982: 229)<br />
Astfel, Memento mori devine un poem fractalogonic, în care contemplarea<br />
diferitelor etape din istoria umanităţii traduce un etern pelerinaj în căutarea formelor de<br />
civilizaţie şi gândire, ciclic-fragmentare şi autosimilare. Motivul asumat romantic al lui<br />
vanitas vanitatum, cuprins în încărcătura semantică a celor două titluri ale versiunilor<br />
poematice, Panorama deşertăciunilor şi Memeto mori, sau în cele ale subtitlurilor gândite<br />
de Eminescu (Tempora mutantur, Vanitas vanitatum vanitas, Skepsis şi Cugetări)<br />
sugerează pentru hermeneutica fractală tocmai nostalgia mandelbrotiană a surprinderii<br />
diversităţii în complexitatea dinamică a formării / de-formării ei. Istoria ca realitate<br />
primară, ca punct de iniţiere a căutării, şi formele sale fragmentare, actualizate temporal,<br />
îşi dezvoltă un parcurs circumscris programatic între „a istoriei hotară” şi „uriaşa roat-a<br />
vremei”:<br />
„Când posomorâtul basmu — vechia secolilor strajă —/ Îmi deschide cu chei<br />
de-aur şi cu-a vorbelor lui vrajă / Poarta naltă de la templul unde secolii se torc — / Eu<br />
sub arcurile negre, cu stâlpi nalţi suiţi în stele, / Ascultând cu adâncime glasul<br />
gândurilor mele, / Uriaşa roat-a vremei înnapoi eu o întorc / Şi privesc... Codrii de<br />
secoli, oceane de popoare / Se întorc cu repejune ca gândirile ce sboară / Şi icoanele-s<br />
în luptă — eu privesc şi tot privesc / La v-o piatră ce însamnă a istoriei hotară, / Unde<br />
lumea în căi nouă, după nou cântar măsoară —/ Acolo îmi place roata câte-o clipă, s-o<br />
opresc!”<br />
Acest mecanism fractal al devenirii presupune şi ocurenţa anumitor nuclee<br />
repetitive, semantic-autosimilare, regăsibile în fiecare fragment al panoramării<br />
civilizaţiilor, observate şi de către exegeza eminesciană, dar puse sub incidenţa tematică a<br />
paradigmei romantice:<br />
„Însă, mai mult decât o imagine a morţii succesivelor civilizaţii, Memento mori<br />
e o imagine a naşterii şi a morţii miturilor, a credinţelor, adică e o meditaţie asupra<br />
încorporărilor (urmate, fiecare, de o inevitabilă înstrăinare) a spiritului în istorie.<br />
Naşterea şi amurgul zeilor, întruparea şi apusul Ideii, timpul echinoxial (timp istoric<br />
auroral, în care natura şi ideea fuzionează în beatitudinea mitului) şi punctele de<br />
50
solstiţiu ale istoriei – acestea sunt momentele care structurează imaginea fiecărei<br />
civilizaţii panoramate în Memento mori [...] Cu excepţia Daciei mitice [...], toate<br />
celelalte civilizaţii panoramate de Eminescu în Memento mori se desfăşoară conform<br />
evoluţiei identice a raportului între două elemente constitutive (Natură-Spirit), evoluţie<br />
ce cunoaşte trei momente: aspiraţie reciprocă – fuziune în mit – ruptură, care duce la<br />
moartea civilizaţiei respective. Fiecare civilizaţie pare a se naşte dintr-un element<br />
primordial (apa în Grecia şi Egipt, pământul în Babilon şi Egipt, focul în Roma etc.), un<br />
element care îşi visează forma şi şi-o primeşte prin efortul modelator al gândirii; fiecare<br />
civilizaţie conţine un simbol central al gânditorului (rege sau mag); epuizată prin<br />
înstrăinarea gândirii, fiecare civilizaţie se reîntoarce în cele din urmă în elementul din<br />
care s-a născut.” (Ioana Em.Petrescu, 2005:179)<br />
Intervine aici, pe lângă aceste elemente reiterate care consolidează construcţia<br />
fragmentar-plurală a viziunii eminesciene, şi un alt factor de coerenţă, spectralitatea, ca<br />
sursă a iconicităţii lumilor, căci „oglinzile eminesciene par menite nu atât să restituie<br />
imaginea lumii fenomenale, cât să capteze imaginea lumii în Idee” (Ioana Em.Petrescu,<br />
2005:198), încât imaginarul poematic surprinde formarea unui obiect ideal mandelbrotian,<br />
o reflectare fractalică a mecanismului de intrare în fiinţă a lumilor contemplate. Ilustrativă<br />
este imaginea magului egiptean a cărui „oglindă de aur” dezvăluie principiul cosmic de<br />
ordonare autosimilară: „În zidirea cea antică sus în frunte-i turnul maur. / Magul privea pe<br />
gânduri în oglinda lui de aur, / Unde-a cerului mii stele ca-ntr-un centru se adun. / El în<br />
mic priveşte - acolo căile lor tăinuite / Şi c-un ac el zugrăveşte cărăruşile găsite —/ A aflat<br />
sâmburul lumii, tot ce-i drept, frumos şi bun.” Prin medierea „oglinzii de aur”, magul<br />
identifică „sâmburul lumii”, un nucleu fractalic al reiterării omotetice a formelor,<br />
metaforă-analogon al „sâmburelui de ghindă”, cele două imagini sugerând „un nucleu de<br />
imense virtualităţi, rupt din cea mai intimă zonă a individualităţii poetice creatoare”, care<br />
„s-a dezvoltat arborescent, s-a ramificat la nesfârşit în variate forme.” (Zamfir, 1971:227)<br />
În această ordine de idei, toposul oglinzii de aur poate fi redefinit, în con<strong>text</strong>ul unei<br />
organizări fractale a discursului, drept metaforă centrală revelatorie, cu extensiuni de<br />
semnificaţie în tot imaginarul poematic, sugerând un locus al contemplării vizionarfractale,<br />
manipulat de „conştiinţa spaţio-temporală subiectivă” eminesciană. Este o<br />
reflectare, la nivelul discursului, a „unei forţe integratoare, capabilă să unifice dimensiunile<br />
spaţială şi temporală într-o experienţă de întrepătrundere omogenă a duratei, a continuităţii<br />
şi a spaţialităţii [...]. În momente privilegiate, conştiinţa subiectivă poate stopa curgerea<br />
timpului, oferind experienţa eternităţii temporale, în care viaţa este percepută în totalitatea<br />
ei [...]. Şi, în cadrul unor experienţe cu adevărat vizionare, mintea poate chiar percepe<br />
eternitatea per se.” (Ghiţă, 2005: 111) Privită în dimensiunea sa de cronotop central,<br />
oglinda de aur, pe lângă funcţia de concentrare a spaţialităţii într-un adevărat Aleph<br />
borgesian, implică şi mecanismul fractal al coexistenţei spaţiale, al „creşterii în şi prin<br />
spaţii”, căci „un anumit punct în spaţiu este relaţionat mental cu totalitatea spaţială care, în<br />
mod similar, integrează pluralitatea de spaţii într-un singur întreg atotcuprinzător. În<br />
momentele vizionare, infinitul multidimensional poate substitui finitul tridimensional.”<br />
(Ghiţă, 2005: 104) Privirea în şi prin oglinda de aur dă astfel un sens formator construcţiei<br />
vizionare eminesciene şi mai ales procedeului contemplativ fractal al descoperirii pivotalrelaţionare<br />
a spaţiilor civilizaţiilor coexistente în aceeaşi totalitate integratoare. I se<br />
asociază toate figurile spectrale ale imaginarului poematic, ele însele oglinzi reflectoare ale<br />
<strong>text</strong>ului, de la oglinda acvatică sau cosmică la privire, având „valoarea de oglinzi magice în<br />
care este revelată nu aparenţa, ci natura ultimă, esenţa încifrată în formele accesibile<br />
privirii.” (Ioana Em.Petrescu, 2005:198) Avem în vedere funcţia eminesciană a simulării<br />
spectrale care complică, diversifică „identitatea repetitivă”, transformând-o într-o<br />
mandelbrotiană iluzie veridică.<br />
51
Oglindirea fractală a auto-similarelor devine, în aceste condiţii, nu simplă<br />
reprezentare mimetică, ci act de generare simulată a complexităţilor Istoriei, „acel<br />
comportament repetitiv al cărui produs (fie el un obiect, fie un eveniment sau un şir de<br />
evenimente) se raportează la o existenţă primă, proclamată drept model, în asemenea<br />
manieră încât, din structura sa complexă, care conţine atât elemente de identitate, cât şi<br />
elemente de diferenţă, un să valorizeze cea dintâi categorie, deci<br />
similitudinea.” (Gorcea, 2001:278)<br />
REFERINŢE<br />
Chioaru, D. (2000), Poetica temporalităţii. Eseu asupra poeziei româneşti, Cluj-Napoca: Ed.Dacia,<br />
Ghiţă, C., (2005), Lumile lui Argus, Piteşti: Ed.Paralela 45<br />
Gorcea, P. M., (2001), Eminescu, vol.I, Piteşti: Ed.Paralela 45<br />
Melian, A., (1987), Eminescu – univers deschis, Bucureşti: Ed.Minerva<br />
Mihăilescu, D. C., (1982), Perspective eminesciene, Bucureşti: Ed.Cartea Românească<br />
Patapievici, H.-R., (2005), Cerul văzut prin lentilă, Iaşi: Ed.Polirom<br />
Petrescu, A., (1985), Eminescu. Metamorfozele creaţiei, Bucureşti: Ed.Albatros Petrescu, I. Em. (2005),<br />
Eminescu. Modele cosmologice şi viziune poetică, Piteşti: Ed.Paralela 45<br />
Zamfir, M., (1971), Proză poetică românească în sec. XIX, Bucureşti: Ed. Minerva<br />
Abstract:<br />
The fractal model identified by Mandelbrot’s branching process becomes relevant for Eminescu’s<br />
Memento mori by means of which the poetic form gains inner dynamism. Its final artistic effect<br />
lies in defining poetry as an infinitely mobile summum of formal windows which renders the same<br />
meaning reflected indefinetly within the poetic structure. Therefore, the global poetic meaning is<br />
inserted at different <strong>text</strong>ual levels through a fractal development technique.<br />
Résumé<br />
Le modèle fractal, identifié par le processus de ramification proposé par Mandelbrot, devient<br />
relevant pour le poème Memento mori d’Eminescu, où la forme poétique étale un certain<br />
dynamisme intérieur. Son effet artistique final demeure dans la définition de la poésie, celle d’un<br />
summum mobile indéfini d’ouvertures formelles, reproduisant le même sens reflété dans la<br />
structure poétique. Par conséquent, le sens poétique global s’insère à de différents niveaux<br />
<strong>text</strong>uels par l’intermédiaire de la technique de développement fractal.<br />
Rezumat<br />
Modelul fractal identificat de procesul de ramificare propus de Mandelbrot devine relevant<br />
pentru poemul Memento mori al lui Eminescu, unde forma poetică expune un anume dinamism<br />
interior. Efectul său artistic final rezidă în definirea poeziei drept un summum mobil nedefinit de<br />
deschideri formale redând acelaşi sens reflectat în structura poetică. Aşadar, sensul poetic global<br />
este inserat la diferite niveluri <strong>text</strong>uale prin intermdeiul tehnicii de dezvoltare fractală.<br />
52
Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of GALAŢI<br />
Fascicle XIII. New Series.<br />
Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006<br />
pp. 53 - 65<br />
56<br />
Language<br />
and<br />
Literature<br />
METAPHORICAL READINGS IN THE MULTAL PARTITIVE PARADIGM<br />
Silvia Manoliu<br />
To express non-numerical imprecision, speakers of English can rely on a diverse set of<br />
vaguely quantifying items and phrases [1]. With a distribution similar to numbers, some of<br />
them are closed-class items that fit in the vague quantifier + (non)countable noun pattern<br />
and fill in the determiner slot in a noun phrase structure, eg: little / much money, many /<br />
several reasons, umpteen jobs, etc. Others, known as quantifying nouns (Biber et al, 1999:<br />
252), partitive nouns or partitives (Quirk et al, 1985: 249; Channell, 1994: 99; Collins<br />
Cobuild, 1996: 110-113), are open-class quantifiers that enter partitive constructions /<br />
structures (Quirk et al, 1985: 249; Channell, 1994: 99; Collins Cobuild, 1996: 110). They<br />
are used to refer to a limited or to a large indefinite quantity of both “masses and entities,”<br />
which are “specified in a following of-phrase” by uncountable mass nouns and plural<br />
countables (Biber et al, 1999: 252) that refer to a single item, part of a whole, a collection<br />
of items or a group/groups of people. The division of quantifiers into non-phrasal and<br />
phrasal partitives is not so strict inasmuch as, except umpteen, all the members in the<br />
former set, can, for emphatic reasons, be optionally postmodified by a prepositional ofphrase<br />
in their pronominal function, eg: many (of the) [books], much (of the) [time], etc.<br />
Conceptually, partition can be expressed both in respect of quality (eg: a kind of<br />
[artist/weapon]; a sort of [animal/chocolate/crime/iron]) and in respect of quantity (eg: a<br />
bit of [fun] > lot of [fun]). (Quirk et al, 1985: 249) In English, the expression of quantity<br />
and of countability, implicitly, is achieved by means of general partitive nouns, eg: piece,<br />
bit, item, which are used with a large number of concrete and abstract noncount nouns, of<br />
typical or specific partitives, which are “more restricted and descriptive” and collocate<br />
with “specific concrete noncount nouns” (idem: 250), eg: a grain of [corn/logic/rice/sand/<br />
salt/truth]; a speck of [dirt/dust/information/truth]), and of measure partitive nouns (idem:<br />
251)/standardized measure terms (Biber et al, 1999: 253), which denote exact<br />
measurement, eg: inch, gram(me), hundred, metre, mile, million, ounce, score, yard,<br />
pound, etc.[2]<br />
Since some of them refer to ‘a (very) small amount or number of’, some to ‘a (very) large<br />
amount or number of’, and others are neutral with respect to quantity, non-numerical<br />
quantifiers have broadly been categorized as meaning:<br />
(a) ‘+ for quantity’, meaning ‘much or many’, which are used in the plural<br />
partitive pattern ‘plural quantifier + of + (non)count noun’, eg: bags of, loads<br />
of, lots of, masses of, oodles of; a great/good/vast deal of; umpteen;<br />
(b) ‘- for quantity’, meaning ‘few or little’, which fit in the singular partitive<br />
pattern ‘a + singular quantifier (+ of + noncount noun)’, eg: a bit of, a scrap of;<br />
a touch of;<br />
(c) ‘neutral for quantity’, eg: some, several. (Cf Channell, 1994: 96)
In Biber et al (1999: 248-252), partitives are subclassified into quantifying<br />
collectives/quantifying collective nouns and unit nouns, which “provide alternative ways<br />
of viewing and referring” with respect to countables and uncountables, respectively,<br />
tending “to have marked collocational patterns.” (idem: 250) Angela Downing and Philip<br />
Locke (1992: 443) distinguish between expressions of measurement (eg: four metres of<br />
cloth), certain singular and plural collective nouns (meaning ‘many’), eg: a pack of [lies],<br />
a gang of [thieves], a swarm of [photographers], herds of [tourists], loads of [ideas], and<br />
small quantities of mass entities (meaning ‘a little’), eg: a bit of [cheese/luck], an item of<br />
[news], a grain/kernel of [truth], etc.[3]<br />
Drawing on Quirk et al’s classification of quantifiers in terms of antonymy<br />
relations[4] and on Biber et al’s framework, phrasal partitives are here approached in terms<br />
of two notional paradigms: the multal partitive paradigm, which is made up of<br />
quantifying collectives/quantifying collective nouns that refer to “groups of single<br />
entities,” expressing a (very) large amount or large amounts of something in both their<br />
singular and plural forms, eg: heap(s) of [books/money/snow], flock(s) of [birds/sheep/<br />
tourists], load(s) of, lot(s) of, masse(s) of, oodles (of), etc;[5] and the paucal partitive<br />
paradigm, which includes quantifying units [6]/quantifying unit nouns, that is, count<br />
nouns denoting a (very) small quantity/amount or (very) small quantities/amounts of<br />
something (eg: bit(s) of, scrap(s) of, etc). The members of the multal paradigm provide<br />
collective, neutral reference for separate entities, collocating with nouns that refer to “a<br />
particular type of entity: people (e.g. crowd and gang), animals (e.g. flock, herd, shoal and<br />
swarm), plants (e.g. bouquet and clump), or inanimate objects or entities (e.g. batch and<br />
set).” (idem: 249) Some of them are often used disphorically, eg: bunch, gang and pack.<br />
Among the most productive and “flexible with respect to the type of entity they refer to”<br />
are bunch, group and set, each of them combining “with over 100 different collocates.”<br />
(idem: 248). Characteristically “general in meaning,” and collocating with nouns that<br />
specify a type of matter or phenomenon, the paucal partitives “make it possible to split up<br />
an undifferentiated mass and refer to separate instances of a phenomenon.” (idem: 250)<br />
Traditionally, the semantics of most of these nominals have been handled in terms<br />
of the standard approach to non-numerical quantifiers, which shows that numerical and<br />
non-numerical quantifiers alike enter into scalar relationships and create scalar<br />
implicatures, the choice of any of them implicating “meanings relevant to the others.”<br />
(Channell 1994: 96-7) There is in this respect a striking similarity in behaviour between<br />
these sets and the adjective, the adverb, the verb and the noun, eg: ... ... ...<br />
... (Cf idem: 97, 116) [7] The scalar semantic relations that hold<br />
between non-numerical quantifying words and phrases account for the status of degree<br />
words, which makes it possible to place them on a scale in relation to each other. Channell<br />
holds that, with the exception of oodles (eg: oodles (and oodles) of [butter / cream /<br />
presents]), plural non-numerical vague quantifiers and their iterative patterns, eg: flocks<br />
and flocks of sheep, masses and masses (of) data, pints and pints of milk, etc, “fall neatly<br />
into an analysis as metaphorical extensions from original literal meanings of each word.”<br />
While the literal use is “a true measure or partitive, as in a load of [hay], a bag of [sand], a<br />
lot of [goods],” the extended, metaphorical uses “maintain the sense of quantifying, but<br />
lose the specific physical characteristics – no actual loads or bags are involved in the<br />
vague uses.” (idem: 104)<br />
According to Patrick Hanks, the metaphorical uses of partitives are among the<br />
“prototypical syntagmatic patterns” that each word is associated with in our mind.” What<br />
contributes “to the meaningfulness of an actual utterance” in a given con<strong>text</strong> is the<br />
57
association of each pattern with “a ‘meaning potential’ of a word or a phrase.”<br />
(http://www.dcs.shef.ac.uk/research/ilash/Seminars/Hanks.doc.:1) The corpus-basedanalysis<br />
of the idiomatic and metaphorical uses of the noun storm [8] has identified the set<br />
of criteria that distinguish the syntagmatic con<strong>text</strong>s which “normally indicate that storm<br />
has a metaphorical meaning.” Mainly drawing on Pustejovsky’s Generative Lexicon<br />
theory, which holds that “[F]or a word to be used metaphorically, at least one of its<br />
semantic values is set aside, while some other semantic feature is emphasized,” Hanks<br />
concludes that the qualia structure of the “most literal sense” of storm and that of the<br />
metaphorical expression a political storm, made up of a classifying adjective + storm,<br />
differ in that the latter “emphasizes the telic and overrides the semantic values of the other<br />
qualia” (idem: 7), as shown in the adapted qualia structure below: [9]<br />
LITERAL storm METAPHORICAL storm<br />
CONSTITUTIVE=high winds, precipitation, thunder,etc. political interaction<br />
FORMAL=atmospheric phenomenon, violent quarrelling<br />
TELIC=disturbing effect >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><br />
AGENTIVE=atmospheric conditions disagreement<br />
Hanks has identified the following other storm patterns which are often given metaphorical<br />
readings: causative verb (eg: arise, cause, create, provoke, raise, spark, unleash; stir up,<br />
whip up) + storm, noun modifier + storm (eg: a royal storm) and the partitive phrase ‘a<br />
storm of something’ / storm + partitive ‘of’ (eg: a storm of protest), which almost always<br />
involves a metaphorical “violent disturbance in the social sense.” The findings show that<br />
the noun protest is “a statistically significant collocate ... in a standard syntactic relation<br />
with the target word,” storm, “usually (but not always)” occurring in the phrase storm of<br />
protest. Hanks’ corpus illustrates “four prototypical classes of storm as a partitive noun,”<br />
i.e. “storms of negative reactions,” such as a storm of anger / controversy / criticism /<br />
discontent / objections / protest / strikes / unrest, etc, which outnumber “storms of<br />
positive reactions,” such as a storm of applause / cheers addressed to a successful<br />
performance, “storms of emotion,” as expressed by someone’s bursting into a storm of<br />
weeping or a storm of tears, etc, [10] and “storms of other things,” ... “of a miscellaneous<br />
ragbag of things, both entities—locusts, feathers, stones, etc.—and events—movement,<br />
noise, sexual behaviour, etc. —in all of which the storm is metaphorical.” (idem: 11)<br />
The semantic relation between the two nouns in a Det + N1 + of + N2 partitive<br />
phrase has in the present paper been reconsidered in terms of semantic marking and the<br />
category of intensification. Literal partitive paradigms have generated paradigms of<br />
con<strong>text</strong>ual, “affective” partitive structures (Ullmann 1967: 148) with various degrees of<br />
metaphoricity, and therefore intensifying force.[11] Organized by the ‘connoteme‘ or along<br />
the dimension euphoric/disphoric, the partitive paradigms confirm that expressiveness is<br />
the result of changing the traditional usage of a lexical item, of violating selection<br />
restriction rules or of semantic incompatibility. Based on the opposition between the the<br />
Source term and the Target term that has been mapped onto it, partitives evoke a certain<br />
source domain which differentiates them. It is especially the “distance” between the two<br />
terms, the nature of their basis of comparison, evaluated in terms of value scaling from<br />
neuter to favourable / unfavourable, as well as the size of the Source domain that matters.<br />
The more restricted the domain is, the more expressive the metaphor will be.<br />
I assume that the members of the two paradigms denote intensification values<br />
within a range of ‘less than enough’ and of ‘(much) more than enough’, respectively, on a<br />
bidirectional intensification scale. Enough stands for the vague node where the multal and<br />
58
the paucal intervals overlap and from where they extend both ways. While the members of<br />
the paucal paradigm denote (very) low / little, and sometimes infinitesimal values of the<br />
collocate (eg: a fleck / speck of [dust]), the members of the multal paradigm denote values<br />
within a range from high to the highest of their collocate on the intensification cline. In<br />
accordance with my framework for the category of intensification (Manoliu 2007), the<br />
literal / neutral, unmarked for intensification meaning of a partitive, in both its singular and<br />
plural forms, will be [-I] marked for intensification, by contrast with the metaphorically<br />
[+I] marked for intensification singular and plural forms. Compare bursts/volleys/ a burst /<br />
volley of [automatic rifle fire/water] and bursts/roars/ a burst roar of [laughter], loads / a<br />
load of [wood] and loads of [charm/fun/ideas/money/time/work], bags/a bag of [cherries]<br />
and bags of [language/people/time], tons/a ton of [fish] and tons of [letters].<br />
Specific multal partitives combine with entities or individuals from a diversity of<br />
domains, many of which pertain to senses (sight and hearing). Mainly inspired by Biber et<br />
al’s “collocation types” (1999: 252 - 254), I have grouped quantifying nouns into several<br />
classes. Nouns denoting a multitude, or collective partitive nouns, which make the bulk of<br />
this paradigm, may refer to a large amount or amounts of things, or to a large number of<br />
things or participants, a group or groups, eg: army, band, batch, bevy, board, brood, bulk,<br />
bunch, bundle, cluster, collection, colony, constellation, convoy, covey, crowd, crew,<br />
drove, fleet, flock, gaggle, gang, heap, herd, hive, hoard, horde, host, litter, load, mass,<br />
nest, pack, pad, pile, pride, rout, school, shoal, skein, stack, stock, string, stud, swarm,<br />
troop, troupe. There are also nouns that refer to elements of nature and to geographical<br />
features, which often connote the idea of ‘remarkably or supernaturally large’, eg: cloud,<br />
mountain, ocean, sea, or to natural phenomena, often characterized by force and by ‘a<br />
sudden and violent release of energy’, eg: burst, explosion, fit, invasion, plague;<br />
avalanche, cloud, deluge, flood, rain, shower, storm, stream, surge, torrent, etc. Others<br />
denote containers and shape, eg: bag, barrel, crate, keg, pack, packet, pad, sack; cupful,<br />
handful, hatful; column, curtain, jet, stick, wad, wall, wedge, etc, [12] or standardized<br />
measures, eg: inch, ounce, pint, ton, yard. Expressing approximate numbers, such as<br />
dozens, scores, tens, hundreds, thousands, a thousand and one, etc, plural numerals are<br />
used in partitive “vague expressions for large numbers” (idem: 253), eg: hundreds /<br />
thousands of [times]; We’ve bought tons of [beer] for the party tonight (CCD).<br />
By lexicalizing intensification to a high, or to the highest degree, the members of<br />
the multal paradigm basically mean the same, i.e. ‘a lot of, plenty (of)’, ‘a large quantity<br />
of’, ‘a great deal of’, ‘a mass of’ something. The sense relation of synonymy that obtains<br />
between non-numerical quantifiers accounts, for instance, for a great amount of money<br />
being referred to as a lot/bag/bulk/heap/pot of [money], or as lot/bags/bulks/heaps/pots of<br />
[money].<br />
The propensity for metaphorization in the multal partitive paradigm in English and<br />
Romanian is illustrated in this paper by the class of nouns of multitude that express ‘a<br />
sudden release of energy’.[13] Conceptually, they may be associated with the MORE IS<br />
UP orientational metaphor, in the sense that whatever exceeds the standard limits can<br />
either excel at or fail in attaining one’s goal. Axiologically, the semantic content of these<br />
metaphors implies a favourable or unfavourable evaluation of quantity. While a small<br />
quantity usually elicits a favourable appraisal, unless the quantity is felt as insufficient and<br />
may generate a devaluating judgment, a large quantity in terms of number, intensity, size,<br />
etc, usually elicits devaluating judgments that connote lack of quality.<br />
The transfer of meaning between concrete, physical entities includes mergers of<br />
different values. Besides the seme [+QUANTITY], these partitive structures contain<br />
variables such as [+/-ANIMATE], [+/-HUMAN], [+/-MOVEMENT], [+SPEED],<br />
[+SOUND], [+SHAPE], [+ITERATIVE], etc. The emotive effect of these elements is due<br />
59
to their evoking the environment or level of style in which they naturally belong. Literally<br />
referring to “bodies of water” (Hanks: 18), of snow, of lava, etc, and metaphorically, by<br />
degrees, to ‘a very large amount of or a large number of things or of people that occur or<br />
arrive at the same time’, the partitives avalache, deluge, flood, stream and torrent share in<br />
their metaphorical uses semes like [+MOVEMENT], [+SPEED], [FORCE], [+SUDDEN<br />
RELEASE], [+/-SOUND]. For example, the idea of [+MOVEMENT] contained in a<br />
stream of, i.e. ‘a long or continuous line of people, animals, vehicles, etc, travelling in the<br />
same direction; a long, continuous series of things; flood’, is further amplified in the<br />
meaning of a torrent of, which additionally suggests [+SPEED] and [FORCE], i.e. ‘a<br />
rushing, violent, or abundant and unceasing stream of anything; a violent, tumultuous, or<br />
overwhelming flow’. Compare: a stream of [abuse/insults/lies/losses/memories/people/<br />
questions/visitors/traffic] and a torrent of [abuse/criticism/hair].<br />
An outburst of something, which is either ‘a sudden period of violent activity’ or ‘a<br />
sudden and strong expression of emotion, especially anger’, and which contains the semes<br />
[+/-SOUND], [SPEED] and [+/-VIOLENCE], has been conceptualized as: a burst of (‘a<br />
short or sudden period of something’); an explosion of (‘a sudden and violent expression of<br />
someone’s feelings, especially anger’, ‘a sudden and serious outbreak of political protest<br />
and violence’); a gush of (‘a sudden plentiful outburst’); a roar of (‘a very loud noise’ or ‘a<br />
very noisy way of applausing or laughing’); a storm of (‘a large amount of comment and<br />
criticism made by people who are very angry, indignant, or excited about a particular<br />
subject’; ‘a sudden loud expression of people’s feelings, which they show by clapping,<br />
laughing, shouting, etc’); a surge of (‘a sudden and powerful increase in an emotion or<br />
feeling’), a wave of (‘a steady increase in a certain feeling, eg: alarm, panic, sympathy, etc,<br />
which overwhelms a person, or which spreads through a place or group of people; surge,<br />
tide; a sudden increase in a particular activity or type of behaviour, boom, spate’), a<br />
whirlwind of (‘a situation in which you experience a lot of different activities or emotions<br />
one after another’), etc.<br />
The partitives cascade, cloud, rain and shower involve different types of<br />
[+MOVEMENT], i.e. ‘a floating, flowing, or a falling mass of something’: a cascade of is<br />
‘an amount of something that falls or hangs down in large quantities’. Compare: Her hair<br />
fell over her shoulders in a cascade of [curls] ... her golden torrent of [hair] (LDCE); ‘a<br />
mass of dust, smoke, gas, etc, moving or floating in the air, or ‘a very large number of<br />
birds or insects flying through the air together’ make a cloud, eg: Way off in the distance<br />
she sees a cloud of [smoke]. (CCD) ... Clouds of [birds] rose from the tree-tops. A large<br />
number of things may ‘fall from above at the same time and with great force’ in a rain, eg:<br />
Like a rain of [bullets], blobs of sulphur would pour down on us. (CCD) ‘A falling<br />
movement of lots of light things’, on the other hand, makes a shower, eg: a shower of<br />
[abuse/(falling) leaves/sparks].[14]<br />
The partitives in this class share a whole range of positively, negatively or neutrally<br />
loaded [+/-ANIMATE] and [+/-HUMAN] collocates, eg: avalache/deluge of [politicians/<br />
tourists/volunteers; applications/data/(mis)information/opportunity], flood/floods of<br />
[people/refugees], avalache/torrents of [debris/trash]. Complaints/letters/petitions come in<br />
a deluge or in floods, attacks and drugs in an avalache or in waves, electrons in an<br />
avalanche, stream or torrent, errors in a burst or an avalanche, (un)truths in an avalanche,<br />
burst, or stream. While the force of applauses is lexicalized in partitive phrases such as<br />
roars/rounds/storms/whirlwinds of [applause], strong protest is expressed in an avalache,<br />
cascade, storm, torrent or wave. One may experience a deluge or droves of [trouble], a<br />
burst, gush or whirlwind of [activity].<br />
Further con<strong>text</strong>ual intensification is provided by the modification of partitive<br />
phrases or, less common, of the collocate only, by descriptive adjectives, which contain the<br />
60
semes [+QUANTITY], [+DURATION] and [+SOUND]. To illustrate this I have selected<br />
the partitives within the range of applause, eg: (huge/massive/total/tremenduous/endless/<br />
deafening/loud/thunderous) roar of [applause], (big/great/huge/polite/respectful/wild)<br />
round of [applause], (ceaseless/long/never-ending/thunderous/wild) storm of [applause];<br />
Another (wild) round of [applause] rose... A storm of (wild) [applause] followed. In<br />
informal use, it is not uncommon for partitives to be also premodified by intensifiers such<br />
as whole, eg: ... a (whole) (new) way of [life]...This turn of events opened a (whole) (new)<br />
vista of [troubles] for me. (CCD).<br />
In Romanian also, the collocational ranges of this class of specific partitives often<br />
overlap, eg: cascadă / explozie de [ciocolată]; avalaşă/explozie de [canale TV/cancere/<br />
case/prospeţime]; explozie/torent de [informaţii/bucurie/lumină]; potop/puhoi/groază/<br />
puzderie/val de [bani/lume/oameni]; potop de [ameninţări/critici/invective/înjurături/<br />
reproşuri]; puhoi/groază/puzderie/sumedenie de [contestaţii/credincioşi/duşmani/filme/<br />
inamici/informaţii/microbişti/nenorociri/nereguli], etc. [15] Crosslinguistically, a shared<br />
conceptual space will enable comparisons, equivalence in form and/or content being a<br />
matter of degree rather than of meaning. The partitive class under examination reveals<br />
much overlapping both in form and collocational ranges between English and Romanian.<br />
The English specific partitives avalache, flood, deluge, wave, stream and torrent of, and<br />
their general partitive equivalents a lot of, lots of, masses of, oodles of and tons of, have as<br />
Romanian counterparts the partitives avalanşă, şuvoi, torent, val de and the rather archaic<br />
nouns potop, puhoi, puzderie, groază de, eg: avalache/deluge of [applications/notifications<br />
/jobs]–ro. avalanşă/puhoi/torent/val de [cereri/contestaţii]; avalache of [costs/events/sales]<br />
– ro. avalanşă de [costuri/cumpărături/evenimente/scumpiri/vânzări]; avalache/ wave of<br />
[accidents/suicide/tourists]–ro. avalanşă/val de [accidente/evenimente rutiere/cumpărături /<br />
scumpiri/vânzări/sinucideri/candidaţi/turişti]; explosion of [colour/rage]–ro. explozie de<br />
[sunet, lumină şi culoare/talent şi culoare/mânie/preţuri]; flood/torrents/volley of [words/<br />
oaths] [16] -ro. cascadă/potop/şuvoi/torent de [cuvinte/înjurături/vorbe]; flood/gush of<br />
[tears] –ro. puhoi / şuvoi de [lacrimi]; flood of [news] vs. potop de [ştiri]; wave of<br />
[love/violence] - ro. val de [afecţiune/dragoste/(acte de) violenţă];<br />
avalache/stream/torrent/wave of [protest] -ro. avalanşă/val de [proteste]; a stream of<br />
[cars/people] - ro. puhoi/şuvoi de [maşini/oameni]; rain of [bullets] - ro. ploaie de<br />
[gloanţe], etc. In both speech and writing, the Romanian counterparts of these partitives<br />
vary between use and abuse. A burst/peal/ roar/round/storm/thunder/volley/wave of<br />
[applause], (out)burst/peal/roar/storm of [laughter], flood/whirlwind of [emotions], etc, are<br />
lexicalized in Romanian as furtună / ropot de [aplauze], hohot de [râs] and val de<br />
[compasiune], but also improperly rendered as ?rafală de [aplauze], ?ropot de [fluierături /<br />
râs]. [17]<br />
The following selection from our corpus illustrates the metaphorical uses of some<br />
English and Romanian partitives in this class:<br />
Ski venders give advertizers an avalanche of [opportunity].<br />
(www.usatoday.com/money/advertising/adtrack) ... Thanks to an avalanche of [email] I’ve<br />
added a bunch of new items to ... He had set off a (terrible) avalache of [(world) events].<br />
(CCD)... an avalanche of [misoginy] directed at Hillary Clinton<br />
(http://atypicaljoe.com/index.php/site/comments/an_avalanche_of_misogyny_directed_at_<br />
hillary_clinton/)... Flames of [suspicion] leapt up in the breast of each man. (F / PI: 117);<br />
A TV show ... was halted after a flood of [complaints] ... a (raging) flood of<br />
[doubts]... There followed a (great) flood of [indignation] in the newspapers (CCD) ... She<br />
received a flood of (grateful) [telegrams and letters] (CCD) ... She shed floods of [tears] ...<br />
A storm of [laughter] arose... the storm of [applause] that greeted the actors ... The decision<br />
61
provoked a storm of [criticism] from Conservative MPs. (CCD) ... They uttered a stream of<br />
(nasty) [curses] ... He sat dumb for several minutes while the stream of [insults] continued<br />
... “The Media Repeats Streams of [Lies] about Obama.”... These ideas have been<br />
hammered into their heads by a stream of [movies, plays and books] ... Stream of<br />
[nonsenseness] by Adrian Jimenezb... a (steady) stream of [contributions] on a weekly<br />
basis ... a (steady) stream of [questions] ... There was a (constant) stream of [people] going<br />
both ways ... The research adds weight to a stream of [studies] that have found obesity and<br />
other health problems ... (MIKE STOBBE, AP Medical Writer Wed May 7, 11:06 AM )<br />
(Relentless) stream of [untruths] ... A (mounting) wave of [dislike and anger] rose within<br />
me... waves of [fun] (C22: 153)... In the (general) wave of [panic], nobody thought of<br />
phoning for an ambulance.(CCD)... In Paris in May 1968 there was a (massive) wave of<br />
(student) [riots]... the recent wave of [bombings] (CCD)... There was a (strong) wave of<br />
[applause] punctuated with cheers... Waves of [applause] like ripples from a slow-grinding<br />
fracture.. permeated the subterranean gloom... (http://www.qbsaul.demon.co.uk)... Waves<br />
of [applause] washed over Nicola, swelling her with pride.<br />
(www.asstr.org/~knickers/haremd2html)... a (new) wave of [innovation] for teaching and<br />
learning... a (fresh) wave of [measles] ... Waves of (saphire)[mist] spread from it in the<br />
dusty fog... He has been trading a (new) wave of [sanctions];<br />
In the 1920s, a Burst of American [Art and Expression] Takes Form.<br />
(http://www.voanews.com/specialenglish/2006-06-14-voa4.cfm)... After a burst of<br />
[(initial) publicity], all seems to have quietened down on this front (The Financial Express,<br />
Friday, April 04, 2008)... The ingredients in this shot lead to a burst of [flavor] you<br />
wouldn’t expect... Jack Kerouac, fuelled by inspiration, coffee and Benzedrine, set down at<br />
his typewriter and in one burst of [creative energy] wrote the novel that would make him<br />
the voice of his generation. (Kerouac’s On the Road)<br />
(http://www.npr.org/programs/morning/features/patc/ontheroad) (5April 2008)...<br />
Verheugen’s visit triggers a burst of [commentaries] ... She felt a surge of [affection] for<br />
him... There has been a a surge of [people];<br />
Deluge of (Digitally Distributed) Drama ... a deluge of [firms] in Dubai ... a deluge<br />
of [ petitions] to the vice-chancellor ... World faces deluge of (human) [trafficking] ...<br />
Rising Miss. River tricky for deluge of [barges] headed downstream ... A deluge of (new)<br />
[trouble]... he has released tons of [songs] for the consumption of the masses. (Biber et al<br />
1999: 253);<br />
Istoria ne-a rezervat o cascadă de [cacealmale]. (Jurnalul Naţional-online,<br />
15.06.2006)... o explozie de [populism şi de necunoaştere] ... Explozie de [copii] în lumea<br />
artistică / la Hollywood în 2007... explozie de [bebeluşi] în România ... explozie de<br />
[sinucideri] care sperie medicii (Ziarul de Iaşi)... explozie de [bere] în centrul Sucevei<br />
(Crai Nou);<br />
Soprana Mariana Nicolesco, care a declanşat furtuni de [aplauze] cu liedurile<br />
enesciene ... stârnind o furtună de [aplauze] în rândurile celor 3.000 de spectatori<br />
(www.onlinegallery.ro/raducanu_tavitian.html) ... fiecare apariţie a sa stârneşte un freamăt<br />
care anunţă furtuna de [aplauze] din final;<br />
?Rafale de [aplauze] la “Chicago” (Cotidianul) ... au urmat câteva aplauze discrete,<br />
anemice şi neconvingătoare. După dans însă, au izbucnit ?rafale de [aplauze]... Din ziua<br />
aia salatele fură înecate în ?potop de [oţet] acru de mere.<br />
Well aware of the fact that approaching metaphoricity in the partitive paradigms involves<br />
dealing with extensive corpora,[18] I have discussed the multal metaphorical partitive<br />
structures in terms of general and specific semes, which turn them into expressive markers<br />
62
of intensification, focusing on collocational ranges and regularities of partitives, as well as<br />
on abuse in the use of some Romanian multal partitive nouns.<br />
The study has revealed some basic issues concerning the semantics and the<br />
metaphorical uses of multal partitives:<br />
- The meaning of the multal metaphorical partitives is a combination of the common semes<br />
[+PLURAL] / [+QUANTITY] which are “intrinsic to the semantic matrix of collective<br />
nouns” (Cf. GA. I: 109) and of specific semes like [+/-MOVEMENT], [+SPEED],<br />
[+SOUND], etc, which convey the idea of exaggeration or of excess.<br />
- Since the semantics of partitives is a function of contiguity, varying with the semantic<br />
load of the collocate, the paradigm members cannot simply be divided into neutral,<br />
positively loaded and negatively loaded items. They have a very wide distribution,<br />
combining with nouns containing the semes [+/-HUMAN] and [+/-ANIMATE], with<br />
neutral, epiphoric and disphoric connotations;<br />
- It is more difficult to establish differences in meaning between individidual partitives<br />
than between cognitive paradigms; they can more profitably be grouped into semantic<br />
classes and subclasses in accordance with the semantic domain they belong to;<br />
- Even though English and Romanian may not have perfectly matching lexicalized<br />
counterparts, their shared conceptual space makes possible crosslinguistic comparisons,<br />
which show that equivalence in form and / or content is a matter of degree rather than of<br />
meaning.<br />
It may be held that metaphorical partitives are cases where “... that inner core of<br />
signification which the word calls up even in isolation includes affective factors,” their real<br />
significance being “as much emotional as it is conceptual.” (Stephen Ullmann, 1967: 99) It<br />
is by evoking the environment or level of style to which they naturally belong that conveys<br />
the emotive effect. The speaker’s / writer’s choice in achieving a stylistic effect (i.e.<br />
familiar, pejorative, jocular, slangy or archaic) is, however, the keynote of any<br />
metaphorical or emotional reading.<br />
Notes<br />
[1] Speaking about “the inherent vagueness in non-numerical quantifiers,” Joanna Channell (1994: 99) has<br />
pointed out that they are vague in the sense that they are “in some ways rather weak as quantifiers,” saying<br />
“nothing absolute about the quantities involved.”<br />
[2] The general partitives bit of, item of and piece of are invariably rendered in Romanian by the general<br />
partitive bucată de, in collocation with concrete nouns, eg: bucată de (cărbune / cretă / hârtie / metal /<br />
pământ), and specific partitives such as felie de [prăjitură / tort], articol de [îmbrăcăminte]. Note the<br />
countability of the Romanian abstract nouns informaţie, ştire, sfat, cercetare, etc, which do not need<br />
reclassification by partition.<br />
[3] Noun collocates are typed between square brackets, whereas modifiers are placed between round<br />
brackets.<br />
[4] They classify much, many, several and a lot as multal quantifiers and a little, a few, respectively, as<br />
paucal quantifiers with a universal or a partitive meaning (1985: 384-6).<br />
[5] Each combining with “well over 100 different collocates,” unit nouns (eg: bit of and piece of) are<br />
“characteristically general in meaning” and, in a way, “the opposite of collective nouns: rather than providing<br />
a collective reference for separate entities, they split up an undifferentiated mass and refer to separate<br />
instances of a phenomenon. Both types of noun provide alternative ways of viewing and referring, collective<br />
nouns with respect to countables and unit nouns with respect to uncountables.” (Biber et al 1999: 250; Cf<br />
also Quirk et al 1985: 249) Moreover, as con<strong>text</strong>-sensitive items, partitives, like intensifiers, can connote<br />
divergent values of their collocates. When used to mean the opposite of what it says, an expression of<br />
quantity indicates a violation of Grice’s maxim of Quality. Just as the diminisher a bit of appears to indicate a<br />
large quantity, loads of, i.e. ‘a lot of something’, may mean ‘a (very) small amount of something’. Compare:<br />
She’s done (a few) bits of [shopping] (‘a small amount of shopping’ vs. ‘quite a lot of shopping’) ... He’s<br />
done loads of [work] (‘has done a lot of work’ vs. ‘has hardly done anything’.<br />
[6] The classifying tag “quantifying units” has been coined on analogy to Biber et al’s “quantifying<br />
collectives.”<br />
63
[7] The bidirectional ordering of gradable items in our intensification framework is the reverse of Channell’s<br />
scaling, where the highest in degree values are marked counterclockwise, i.e. leftwards, eg: , , etc (See Manoliu 2007: 26)<br />
[8] We have preserved the boldface in Hank’s examples.<br />
[9] According to Pustejovsky, there are “four essential aspects of a word’s meaning” that define the qualia<br />
structure: CONSTITUTIVE (i.e. the relation between an object and its constituent parts), FORMAL (i.e.<br />
which distinguishes an object within a larger domain), TELIC (i.e. the purpose and function of the object)<br />
and AGENTIVE (i.e. factors involved in the origin or “bringing about” of something) (idem:7)<br />
[10] Since, in terms of the category of intensification and its markers, they all pertain to feelings, these<br />
metaphorical classes may, however, be approached as “storms of emotion” which denote diferent intensity<br />
values along a bidirectional intensification scale.<br />
[11] Iorgu Iordan (1975: 333) calls this process „semantic derivation.”<br />
[12] To form a quantifying noun, the suffix –ful can be added to nouns denoting different types of container<br />
...” (idem: 254)<br />
[13] Our corpus has been culled from fiction and media, mainly from http://www.google.ro<br />
[14] Note also the intensifying eliptical prepositional phrases in clouds, in droves, in spate, in waves, etc, eg:<br />
The mosquitoes were coming up in clouds... They would come in droves to see Australia’s natural wonder.<br />
(CCD)<br />
[15] Note that of is almost invariably rendered into Romanian by the preposition de.<br />
[16] A volley of [words / questions / figures] is ‘a lot of words, questions, etc, which someone says very<br />
quickly and in an agressive way, without giving anyone else a chance to reply’. Remember also a sea of<br />
[words]. (Pârlog 1995: 115)<br />
[17] Such collocations abound in the media, eg: ?rafală de [cuvinte / moţiuni / oferte / ritmuri / sentimente],<br />
?şuvoi de [compasiune / dubii / picături / victime], ?cascadă de [apartamente], etc.<br />
[18] A great amount of computed data from many spoken and written sources compensate for the scant<br />
attention that partitives receive in lexicographic studies. It is beyond the scope of this paper to determine the<br />
grammatical role of the partitive / quantifier and of its collocate or to give a <strong>full</strong>-scale record of the<br />
collocational ranges of these partitives. We cannot but agree in this respect with Hanks, who holds that “[I]t<br />
would take a <strong>full</strong>-scale lexicographical study ... to determine exactly how many words are used as<br />
metaphorical partitives and what semantic features they share.”<br />
REFERENCES<br />
Academia Română, Institutul de Lingvistică “Iorgu Iordan – Al. Rosetti” (2005). Gramatica limbii române. I<br />
Cuvîntul, Bucureşti: Editura Academiei Române (GA. I)<br />
Biber, D., et al .(1999). Longman Grammar of Spoken and Written English (Biber et al), London: Longman<br />
Channell, J. (1994) Vague Language, OUP<br />
Downing, A., Locke, Ph. (1992). A University Course in English Grammar, Prentice Hall International<br />
Hanks, P. http://www.dcs.shef.ac.uk/research/ilash/Seminars/Hanks.doc.<br />
Manoliu, S. (2007). Intensification of Meaning. Central Markers, Iaşi: Casa Editorială Demiurg<br />
Pârlog, H. (1995). The Sound of Sounds, Timişoara: Hestia Publishing House<br />
Quirk, R., et al. (1985). A Comprehensive Grammar of the English Language, London: Longman<br />
DICTIONARIES<br />
Academia R.S.R. Institutul de Lingvistică din Bucureşti (1975). Dicţionarul explicativ al limbii române,<br />
Bucureşti: Editura Academiei R.S.R. (DEX)<br />
Benson, M., Benson, E., Ilson, R. (1990). The BBI Combinatory Dictionary of English, John Benjamins<br />
Publishing Company. (BBI)<br />
Chambers Thesaurus. (1991). W & R Chambers Ltd. (CT)<br />
Collins Cobuild English Language Dictionary. (1994). Harper Collins Publishers. (CCD)<br />
Longman Dictionary of Contemporary English, Third Edition. (1995). London: Longman. (LDCE)<br />
CORPUS<br />
(F/PI) Forster, E.M. (1989). A Passage to India, Penguin Books<br />
(JH/C22) Heller, J. (1979) Catch-22, London: Thirty Bedford Square<br />
64
Abstract<br />
Part of the series of articles on peripheral marks of the category of intensification, the current<br />
paper approaches the semantics the partitive-amplifying paradigm, the most significant segment<br />
which furnishes partitive metaphor in English and Romanian. Reference is mainly made to the<br />
metaphorization of collective specific partitives with a metaphorical meaming ‘the sudden relief<br />
of an impressive quantity of energy” such as avalache, deluge, flood, stream, torrent, burst,<br />
explosion, gush, roar, storm, wave of, which denote abundance and excess, which indicate,<br />
depending on the collocation a quantitively neutral, favourable of unfavourable evaluation. As in<br />
the case of intensifiers, it is more simply to establish meaning differences between cognitive<br />
partitives and the partitives themselves. A wider distribution, quite common collocations and<br />
associations quite often surprising provide metaphorical meanings with extreme hyperbolic<br />
valences to these quantitative-non-numerical phrases. Romanian, which possesses most of the<br />
lexicalizations of the English vocabulary, also reveals the presence of a set of partitives with an<br />
archaic flavour, such as groază/potop/puhoi de, etc., also shows a tendency to improperly<br />
borrow English partitives. The corpus was extracted from dictionaries, literature, mass media<br />
and on-line sources.<br />
Résumés<br />
S’inscrivant dans la série d’articles consacrés aux marques périphériques de la catégorie de<br />
l’intensification, ce travail se veut une approche sémantique du paradigme partitif-amplificateur,<br />
le segment le plus significatif fournisseur de la métaphore partitive en anglais et roumain. Nous<br />
faisons surtout référence à la métaphorisation des partitifs collectifs spécifiques à sens<br />
métaphorique, « la livraison brusque d’une quantité considérable d’énergie », telles que :<br />
« avalanche, déluge, flood, stream, torrent, burst, explosion, gush, roar, storm, wafe of », qui<br />
dénotent de l’abondance et de l’excès et indiquent, en fonction de la colocation, une évaluation<br />
quantitative neutre, favorable ou défavorable. On peut constater, tout comme dans le cas des<br />
intensificateurs, qu’il est plus facile à établir les différences de sens entre les paradigmes<br />
cognitifs qu’entre les partitifs eux-mêmes. Une distribution ample, des colocations souvent<br />
communes et des associations parfois surprenantes, tout confère à ces expressions quantitatives-<br />
non numériques des sens métaphoriques, à valences extrêmes, hyperboliques. Dans la langue<br />
roumaine, où on retrouve une grande partie des lexicalisations du vocabulaire anglais et on<br />
remarque la présence d’une série de partitifs à résonnance archaïque, tels que groazã / potop /<br />
puhoi de, etc., se manifeste la tendance d’emprunter d’une manière impropre des partitifs de<br />
l’anglais. Le corpus illustratif a été sélectionné des dictionnaires, de la littérature, des mass<br />
media et des sources internet.<br />
Rezumat<br />
Înscriindu-se în seria de articole dedicate mărcilor periferice ale categoriei intensificării,<br />
lucrarea de faţă abordează semantica paradigmei partitiv-amplificatoare, cel mai semnificativ<br />
segment furnizor de metaforă partitivă în engleză şi română. Se face în principal referire la<br />
metaforizarea partitivelor colective specifice cu sensul metaforic ‘eliberarea bruscă a unei<br />
cantităţi impresionante de energie’, precum avalache, deluge, flood, stream, torrent, burst,<br />
explosion, gush, roar, storm, wave of, care denotă abundenţă şi exces, indicând, în funcţie de<br />
colocaţie, o evaluare cantitativ neutră, favorabilă sau nefavorabilă. Se constată, ca şi în cazul<br />
intensificatorilor, că este mai lesne de stabilit diferenţe de sens între paradigmele cognitive decât<br />
între partitivele înseşi. O distribuţie amplă, colocaţii adesea comune şi asocieri nu rareori<br />
surprinzătoare conferă acestor expresii cantitativ-nonnumerice sensuri metaforice, cu valenţe<br />
hiperbolice extreme. În limba română, unde se regăsesc mare parte din lexicalizările din<br />
vocabularul englez şi se remarcă prezenţa unui set de partitive cu rezonanţe arhaice, precum<br />
groază/potop/puhoi de, etc, se manifestă tendinţa de a prelua impropriu partitive din limba<br />
engleză. Corpusul ilustrativ a fost selectat din dicţionare, beletristică, mass media şi surse online.<br />
65
Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of GALAŢI<br />
Fascicle XIII. New Series.<br />
Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006<br />
pp. 66 - 72<br />
66<br />
Language<br />
and<br />
Literature<br />
PAST IMPERFECTS – PRESENT IMAGININGS: (RE)MAKING HISTORY<br />
Ioana Mohor-Ivan<br />
In 1994, when his study on Contemporary Irish Drama was published, Anthony Roche<br />
was introducing his chapter on Northern Irish Drama in the following terms:<br />
Since conflict is the essence of all drama, it should be no surprise that the current<br />
situation in Northern Ireland has generated a considerable number of stage plays.<br />
Catholic versus Protestant, British versus Irish, republican versus loyalist, the gun<br />
versus the ballot box: to live in the North is to inhabit a drama of conflict whose<br />
contradictions often result in lethal consequences. (Roche, 1994: 216)<br />
If Roche was referring here to the interconnectedness between the theatrical stage and the<br />
political violence of the last twenty-five years that had become an all too inevitable sight in<br />
Northern Irish culture, the origins of the oppositional patterns referred to above lies with<br />
the historical England-Ireland axis and the fact of colonialism, which, from David Cairns<br />
and Shaun Richards’ perspective, has inflected the making and remaking of the Irish<br />
identity by positing it as England’s other, to the extent to which “no aspect of identity […]<br />
can safely be assumed to be inherent” (Cairns and Richards, 1988: 8). This proves Declan<br />
Kiberd’s assertion, that “it was less easy to decolonise the mind than the territory” (Kiberd,<br />
1996: 6), because the clusters of imagery evolved by each community for selfrepresentation<br />
tend to fall into two categories: on the Protestant side, the basic opposition<br />
established by the colonial discourse between self and other, recast as that between<br />
civilisation and wilderness remains central, and the conflict is explained by reinforcing the<br />
stereotype of the irrational and violent Catholic, who has failed to accept the democratic<br />
will of the majority. On the Nationalist divide, violence becomes heroism, and ‘terrorist’<br />
is replaced by ‘freedom-fighter’, by means of the reciprocity principle secured by a long<br />
list of historic ills perpetrated against the natives by their oppressors, which require redress<br />
in the present, the ‘inspiration’ being provided by the actions of legitimated heroes, from<br />
Cuchullain to Connolly (Buckley, 1991: 261).<br />
If history, or better said, its versions of the past remain obsessively afresh in<br />
reinforcing loyalties and asserting identities, one should not forget that, to quote John<br />
Berger’s opinion:<br />
History always constitutes the relation between a present and its past. Consequently,<br />
fear of the present leads to mystifications of the past. The past is not for living in: it is a<br />
well of conclusions from which we draw in order to act. Cultural mystification of the<br />
past entails a double loss. Works of art are made unnecessarily remote. And the past<br />
offers us fewer conclusions to complete in action. (Rabey, 1986: 188)<br />
Among other Northern Irish playwrights, Brian Friel has, so far, provided the most<br />
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”<br />
(Ireland’s Field Day, 1985). As co-founder of the Field Day Theatrical Company in 1980,<br />
Friel offered in his own Translations an alternative way “of looking at Ireland, or another<br />
possible Ireland” (Gray, 1995: 8; Andrews, 1995: 165). Set in 1833, at the time when the<br />
Ordnance Survey resulted in the translation of the Gaelic place-names into English,<br />
Translations turned the historical event into a dramatic metaphor able to comment on<br />
present-day Anglo-Irish relations, while, at the same time, it brought into discussion the<br />
traditional nationalist myth of “the cultural dispossession by the British” (McAvera, 1985).<br />
Though a historical play, Translations foregrounded striking contradictions to the<br />
mythology of colonialism through reversed stereotyping, psychological character depth,<br />
instances of meaningful openness to the ‘other’ that asserted the possibility of crossing the<br />
boundaries, and a basically optimistic ending, which suggested the desirability of cultural<br />
fusion between the Gaelic and English traditions. As such, the Frielian <strong>text</strong> succeeded in<br />
“re-making” history for the contemporary audience, and in this manner an imagined past<br />
became meaningful for the present.<br />
If, starting with its premiere, Translations has met with much acclaim, sometimes<br />
controversy, but an overall impressive host of critical commentary, the same cannot be said<br />
about the other historical play written in the 1980s, Making History (1988) 1 , to which<br />
Anthony Roche’s study of Contemporary Irish Drama devotes only a passing, and<br />
unjustly disqualifying remark that reads: “Friel’s much awaited Making History, his first<br />
new play in six years, was a disappointment” (Roche, 1994: 224). That Making History<br />
was not a “disappointment” can be proved by the fact that Declan Kiberd names it among<br />
his selected triumvirate of Frielian plays to appear in the synopsis of contemporary Irish<br />
literature with which his study concludes (Kiberd, 1996: 633-4).<br />
As a new attempt at writing a historical play, Making History may have been<br />
prompted by Kevin Barry’s remarks on the interaction between history and fiction on<br />
which the latter was basing his appraisal of Translations:<br />
It is certain that both history and fiction imagine and structure a past which neither<br />
could make known without sharing the images and structures of narrative. Both<br />
discourses enable the entry into what has been lost into a society’s understanding of its<br />
present. (Friel, Barry, Andrews, 1983: 119)<br />
As Friel himself has confessed in an interview, the writing of a historical play presents the<br />
apparent advantage of dealing with established historical facts that lend accessibility to the<br />
work, but also imposes particular responsibilities for the writer, “to acknowledge those<br />
facts . . . but not to defer to them” (Friel, Barry, Andrews, 1983: 123-4). Consequently,<br />
Making History acknowledges the ‘facts’ of the recorded histories of Hugh O’Neill, the 3 rd<br />
Baron of Dungannon and the 2 nd Earl of Tyrone, the leader of the Irish forces in the last<br />
Gaelic rebellion against the English colonisation of Ulster at the end of the 16 th century.<br />
An adept politician and gifted soldier, O’Neill made the most both of his position as a<br />
representative of the English Crown which had secured him the granting of an English<br />
earldom in 1585, as he did ten years later in the Rising of the Northern Earls, when he<br />
became known among his European Catholic contemporaries as the “Prince of Ireland”.<br />
Nevertheless, the action of Making History condenses the events bridging O’Neill’s<br />
marriage to the English Mabel Bagenal in 1591 to the aftermath of Kinsale into a<br />
momentous episode lasting less than two years, in which the points of reference are:<br />
O’Neill’s reciprocated love for Mabel (Act I, Scene 1), his facing the option of turning into<br />
the leader that would coalesce a national resistance (Act I, Scene 2), and the anguished<br />
confession of repentance written to the Queen when a fugitive in the Sperrin mountains<br />
67
(Act II. Scene 1). A coda set twenty years later (Act II. Scene 2) shows O’Neill, now an<br />
exile in Rome, endlessly returning to the same incidents of his life as the only means of<br />
preserving some sense of ‘truth’ for his existence: “That is the truth. That is what<br />
happened” (66). This final scene discloses that what the play has enacted so far were the<br />
flashbacks of O’Neill’s mind, engaged in a kind of Yeatsian “dreaming back” of a<br />
selective and subjective record of his life.<br />
Throughout the play, O’Neill’s personal history is juxtaposed with the official<br />
record of his life, exemplified by Peter Lombard’s De Regno Hiberniae Commentarius<br />
(1632), a <strong>text</strong> in which the Catholic Archbishop had promoted O’Neill as the hero of the<br />
European Counter-Reformation, becoming thus central not only to Gaelic historiography,<br />
but also to the Nationalist tradition.<br />
The whole <strong>text</strong> is structured on this opposition between the private and the public<br />
realms, the inner and the outer selves, and this doubleness is represented by dividing the<br />
stage space through the pairing of different characters. The domestic sphere of O’Neill’s<br />
home in Dungannon places its dramatic emphasis on Hugh’s relationship with Mabel,<br />
highlighting not only the private dimension in his life, but also a harmonious fusion of<br />
Gaelic and English tradition, which also “characterised the central love scene of<br />
Translations” (Kiberd, 1996: 634). Yet this world is intruded by the arrival of another pair<br />
of characters, Lombard and O’Donnell, coming as messengers of the public discourse of<br />
politics and tribal loyalties. Hugh O’Donnell’s sensationalist report on the troubled scene<br />
surrounding Dungannon reveals a parochial and divided society, impetuous and unstable,<br />
in a permanent flux of shifting allegiances, as its Gaelic chieftains are, in Lombard’s<br />
words: “Constantly at war - occasionally with the English - but always, always among<br />
themselves”(11). However, this is part of the same world of ancient rituals and ceremonies<br />
that O’Neill inherited at his birth, “a way of life that my blood comprehends and indeed<br />
loves and that is as old as the Book of Ruth”(28). While O’Donell impersonates Hugh’s<br />
attachments to his native culture, the presence of Lombard enlarges the public theme by<br />
placing it into the con<strong>text</strong> of European politics. The Archbishop, “by profession . . . a<br />
Church diplomat”(6), is the emissary of the European Counter-Reformation, speaking the<br />
impersonal and abstract language of the organisers and ideologues. As a self-appointed<br />
chronicler of the Irish situation, he has already inserted Hugh in his <strong>text</strong> in the preordained<br />
public role of a hero:<br />
And this is a résumé of my Commentarius - a thesis I’m doing on the Irish situation.<br />
Briefly, my case is this. Because of her mismanagement England has forfeited her right<br />
to domination over this country. The Irish chieftains have been forced to take up arms in<br />
defence of their religion. And because of your birth, education and personal attributes,<br />
you are the natural leader of that revolt. (7-8)<br />
Despite Lombard’s claim that “History has to be made - before it’s remade”(9), the public<br />
discourse has imposed “a pattern on events that were mostly casual and haphazard” (8).<br />
O’Neill may ponder about his options and resist volunteering to appear in “the big canvas<br />
of national events” (69), but the course of his actions has been pre-ordered either by<br />
policy-makers such as Lombard, the Spanish grandees or the Pope, or by the polarised<br />
language of imperialistic imagery, which, despite his Renaissance self-fashioning under<br />
the guidance of Sir Henry Sydney, will inevitably brand him “Fox O’Neill”, because all<br />
Irishmen “who live like subjects play but as the fox which when you have him on a chain<br />
will seem tame; but if he ever gets loose, he will be wild again” (35). Positioned as<br />
defender of “the Holy Roman Church” (33) by the discourse of militant Catholicism and as<br />
the treacherous barbarian by that of colonialism, O’Neill is eventually forced to conform to<br />
68
his public role, and engage in “making” history, while the rupture of his bonds with his<br />
private self will be symbolised by the news of Mabel’s death.<br />
Years later in Rome, with his official part formally ended by the <strong>full</strong> stop placed in<br />
Lombard’s history after “The Flight of the Earls. . . the final coming to rest”(65-66) and<br />
the position of “inacción” (56) assigned by the present political discourse, a broken,<br />
drunken and penniless O’Neill will be left with a crippled privacy, epitomised in the<br />
frustrating marriage to Catriona. The existent history of personal failure will be once more<br />
juxtaposed with Lombard’s story where the former public failure has been turned into a<br />
history of success. To become a “cause for celebration not only by us but by the<br />
generations that follow” (62), the narrative will delete Mabel, signifying both the private<br />
and the English dimension in Hugh’s existence, and will turn O’Neill’s life into a story of<br />
epic proportions where even the “telling” of the battle of Kinsale “can . . . be a triumph”<br />
(65).<br />
Refusing to be imprisoned “in a florid lie” (63), O’Neill engages in his last and, this<br />
time, personal battle to retrieve the wholeness of his lived history, lost in the simplified<br />
narrative of Lombard’s book:<br />
I need the truth, Peter. That’s all that’s left. The schemer, the leader, the liar, the<br />
statesman, the lecher, the patriot, the drunk, the soured, bitter émigré - put it all in,<br />
Peter. Record the whole life. (63) (underlining mine)<br />
What Mabel has called the “overall thing”(68) means ultimately to reclaim the multiplicity<br />
of life, in its shifting patterns of opposite manifestations.<br />
And Making History fights its own battle to regain the “overall thing”, by selfconsciously<br />
fore-grounding the relativity of absolute categorisations. The glass of whiskey<br />
that Lombard holds in his hand may be both “a lure to perdition” and “a foretaste of<br />
immortality”(69). In a similar fashion, the oppositional terms of the colonial discourse<br />
resurface in various con<strong>text</strong>s and with subtle re-polarisations, in concordance with Friel’s<br />
dictum that a writer’s task is to acknowledge but not defer to established facts. While for<br />
the English Harry Bagenal, Mabel’s brother, the Irish will always be locked in their<br />
description as “a rebellious race”, “so traitorous a stock” that have to be repressed (6), and<br />
O’Donnell will be accordingly nicknamed “the Butcher O’Donnell” (17), truth is always<br />
made relative, and no definitions remain fixed. Bagenal, in his turn, becomes for Hugh<br />
O’Donnell “the Butcher Bagenal” (13), and his raids in the countryside, where he<br />
“slaughtered and beheaded fifteen families” are described by means of the same language<br />
with which O’Donnell boasts his own acts. Even Mabel, despite her openness to her<br />
husband’s culture, is not spared falling prey to the language of English prejudice and,<br />
irritated by her servants, shouts at them: “If you want to behave like savages, go back to<br />
the bogs!” (20). But seconds later in the play, faced with her sister’s retort to the<br />
convention trope of the uncivilised Irish, “treacherous and treasonable. . .steeped in<br />
religious superstitions”, “a savage people who refuse to cultivate the land God gave us”<br />
(24), Mabel crosses the border of the paradigm, and embarrasses her sister by asserting her<br />
conversion to Catholicism and relocating the terms of definition:<br />
As for civility I believe that there is a mode of life here that is at least as honourable and<br />
as cultivated as the life I’ve left behind. And I imagine the Cistercian monks in Newry<br />
didn’t think our grandfather an agent of civilisation when he routed them out of their<br />
monastery and took it over as our home. (24).<br />
Such ironic juxtaposition is a constant of a play which leaves no safe locations for pre-set<br />
oppositions. O’Neill himself may make ironic references to the “Gaelic wilderness” (26),<br />
69
the Italians may unexpectedly be conjured by O’Donnell to fill the negative term of the<br />
matrix: “Bloody savages! The only time they ever smile is when they’re sinking a sword in<br />
you!” (32) and even the Spanish view of Elisabeth as “the Jezebel of the North” is<br />
comically reworked in Mary’s report on the English calling O’Neill “The Northern Lucifer<br />
- the Great Devil - Beelzebub” (25).<br />
O’Neill’s mind has the versatility of understanding both codes and see the values<br />
and excesses on each side. On one hand, the Gaelic culture, stretching back “since before<br />
history, long before the God of Christianity was ever heard of” (40) lends assurances and<br />
dignity to his people. Yet, on the other hand, the same tradition can also entrap them “in<br />
the old Gaelic paradigms of thought” (27), and the proud defiance of the Irish, exemplified<br />
by the fate of Maguire, may become a suicidal action. Similarly, the English culture is<br />
equally the epitome of the enlightened Renaissance mind, the necessary implement “to<br />
open these peoples to the strange new ways of Europe,. . . ease them into the new<br />
assessment of things” (40) and that of crude materialism, because it also represents “the<br />
plodding Henrys of this world which are the real empire makers” (27).<br />
Still, straddling both worlds, O’Neill proves by his own example that their<br />
reconciliation and fusion is possible, as long as the openness to the “other” is preserved, an<br />
openness also asserted by the meaningful relationships, be them of love or friendship,<br />
established with Mabel and O’Donnell. Moreover, the “Other” can be enriching, because,<br />
as Mabel says, his strength lies with him being both Irish and English, becoming thus “the<br />
most powerful man in Ireland” and an enigma to the Queen, “the antithesis of what she<br />
expects a Gaelic chieftain to be.” (38)<br />
The balance is broken the moment O’Neill is compelled to side with the Gaelic<br />
‘pieties’ against his English half. Yet, despite severed attachments and amidst the rash of<br />
battle plans, Mabel’s presence restores her husband to his characteristic “calculation -<br />
deliberation - caution” (37 Nonetheless, his care<strong>full</strong>y designed scheme of operations is<br />
nullified by the Spaniards’ wrong choice of place, and O’Neill has the instant apprehension<br />
of the fore-coming defeat:<br />
O’Neill: Where do they land?<br />
O’Donnell: ‘Keen-sall.’<br />
O’Neill: Where - where?<br />
O’Donnell: ‘Keen’sall’ - Kinsale, I suppose.<br />
O’Neill: Oh, God, no. (42)<br />
After the debacle of Kinsale the fiction of a nation state collapses into the “chaos” (44) of<br />
the former quagmire of “squabbling tribesmen” (38), and O’Neill is confronted once more<br />
with the imperative of opting between the Gaelic paradigm, represented now by his joining<br />
the “Flight of the Earls” and living “the life of a soured émigré whingeing and scheming<br />
round the capitals of Europe” (48), or the pragmatism of his Englishness, which tells him<br />
to follow Mabel’s advice and submit to Elizabeth:<br />
I should accept almost any conditions, no matter how humiliating, as long as I’d be<br />
restored to my base again and to my own people (48).<br />
It is at this moment that O’Neill professes his loyalty to the English Crown and surrenders<br />
the last remnants of independence, but he does so <strong>full</strong>y aware of the consequences of this<br />
act, which would render him “one great fraud” (49) to both sides alike:<br />
O’Neill: Belief has nothing to do with it. As Mabel says, she’ll use me if it suits her.<br />
O’Donnell: And your people?<br />
70
O’Neill: They’re much more pure, “my people”. Oh, no, they won’t believe me either.<br />
But they’ll pretend they believe me and then with ruthless Gaelic logic they’ll crucify me<br />
for betraying them. (50)<br />
O’Neill’s willed confession is done in <strong>full</strong> recognition that he will be forever considered an<br />
impostor, but it is the only reasonable response to the devious world around him, and<br />
becomes thus as important a chapter in his history as the other glorified events selected by<br />
Lombard’s book:<br />
O’Neill: And the six years after Kinsale - before the Flight of the Earls - aren’t they<br />
going to be recorded? When I lived like a criminal, skulking round the countryside - my<br />
countryside! - hiding from the English, from the Upstarts, from the Old English, but most<br />
assiduously hiding from my brother Gaels who couldn’t wait to strip me out of every<br />
blade of grass I ever owned. And then when I could endure that humiliation no longer, I<br />
ran away! If these were ‘my people’ then to hell with my people! (66)<br />
All the same, this episode will be dismissed by the Archbishop as unfit for “the story of a<br />
hero” (67) and because, as Kiberd notes, “history is not written by winners or losers, but<br />
by historians” (Kiberd: 1996, 633), the final lines in the play will be given to Lombard to<br />
seal the divine stature of his character:<br />
A man, glorious, pure, faithful above all<br />
Who will cause mournful weeping in every territory.<br />
He will be a God-like prince<br />
And he will be king for the span of his life. (71)<br />
It is a truism that history depends upon the “the surviving documents, which are the past’s<br />
versions of itself” (Friel, Barry, Andrews, 1983: 118). The large brown book placed centrestage<br />
throughout the last scene, Lombard’s Commentarius, is one such surviving record,<br />
freezing O’Neill into a messianic hero. But Friel’s character breathes alive from the pages<br />
of this “imagined” narrative of his life precisely because it has replaced the repressive<br />
disjunctive co-ordination of the past with the liberating apposition. O’Neill can be a hero,<br />
as well as a famished refugee, as well as a deserter to his nation, as well as many other<br />
things in a play about multiple identity and dual forms of belonging that expose the<br />
shallowness of all stereotypes.<br />
The challenge undertaken by the play, namely to bypass the authority of official<br />
<strong>text</strong>s by its own fiction has been resolved at the structural level, where the audience were<br />
tricked to dismiss as inauthentic the testimony of an approved document like Lombard’s<br />
Commentarius by linking O’Neill’s corrective reminiscences with their images, which had<br />
been actually enacted during the previous three scenes.<br />
Notes<br />
1 For the analysis of this play all references are made to Brian Friel, Making History, London, Boston: Faber<br />
and Faber, 1989, hereafter cited parenthetically in the <strong>text</strong>.<br />
REFERENCES<br />
Andrews, Elmer (1995) The Art of Brian Friel, New York: St. Martin’s Press.<br />
71
Buckley, Anthony (1991) Uses of History among Ulster Protestants in Dawe, Gerald; John Wilson Foster<br />
(eds.) The Poet’s Place: Ulster Literature and Society. Essays in honour of John Hewitt, Belfast:<br />
Institute of Irish Studies, pp 259-271.<br />
Cairns, David and Shaun Richards (1988) Writing Ireland: Colonialism, Nationalism and Culture,<br />
Manchester: Manchester U.P.<br />
Friel, Brian (1989) Making History, London, Boston: Faber and Faber.<br />
Friel, Brian; Barry, Kevin; Andrews, Joseph (1983) Translations and a Paper Landscape: Between Fiction<br />
and History, in The Crane Bag: Perspectives on Irish Culture, The Forum Issue, pp. 118-124.<br />
Gray, John (1985) Field Day Five Years On in Linenhall Review, Vol. 2, No. 2, pp 5-10.<br />
Ireland’s Field Day (1985) London: Hutchinson.<br />
Kiberd, Declan (1996) Inventing Ireland: The Literature of the Modern Nation, London: Vintage.<br />
McAvera, Brian (1985) Attuned to the Catholic Experience in Fortnight No. 3/ March Issue, pp 18-21.<br />
Rabey, David Ian (1986) British and Irish Political Drama in the Twentieth Century: Implicating the<br />
audience, London and Basigstoke: Macmillan.<br />
Roche, Anthony (1994) Contemporary Irish Drama: from Beckett to McGuinness, Dublin: Gill &<br />
Macmillan.<br />
Abstract<br />
Brian Friel’s third original Field Day play, Making History, is indicative of the playwright’s<br />
rejection of the oppositional binaries on which both the colonialist and the nationalist definitions<br />
of Irishness are based, and his search for a middle-ground, where the mechanics by which forms<br />
of identity are asserted and problematised may be subjected to a critical investigation. The paper<br />
aims to disclose the various strategies by means of which Friel’s play continually brings such<br />
oppositional constructs into question and opens thus both the colonialist and the nationalist<br />
paradigms to critique.<br />
Résumé<br />
La troisième pièce originale de Brian Friel pour la companie Field Day, Making History,<br />
témoigne de la rejection de l’auteur en ce qui concerne les paires de concepts opposes qui<br />
constituent l’essence des definitions colonialists et nationals de l’identité du people d’Irlande, et<br />
de sa recherché pour une voie de compromise où la méchanique à travers de laquelle des formes<br />
d’identité sont exposée et mises en question peut faire l’objet d’une investigation critique. Cet<br />
etude a comme objet de reveller les strategies différentes à l’aide desquelles la pieces de Friel<br />
met toujours en question de telles conbstructions opposes et elle ouvre également les paradigms<br />
colonialists et nationals à la critique.<br />
Rezumat<br />
Making History, cea de-a treia piesa originală scrisă de Brian Friel pentru a fi produsă de<br />
compania teatrală Field Day, reia explorarea spaţiul identităţii irlandeze în con<strong>text</strong>ul revoltei lui<br />
Hugh O’Neill, unul dintre evenimentele cruciale din istoriei colonizării Irlandei. Lucrarea îşi<br />
propune să demonstreze că <strong>text</strong>ul frielian rescrie naraţiunea istorică în registru imaginativ unde<br />
modelele dihotomice de reprezentare a conceptului de Irishness, (caracteristice atât discursului<br />
colonialismului britanic cât şi celui al naţionalismului irlandez) pot fi destabilizate şi revizuite.<br />
Un veritabil <strong>text</strong> postmodern, piesa aduce in centrul atenţiei suspiciunea faţă de naraţiunile<br />
totalizatoare, accentuând natura discursivă a reprezentărilor trecutului şi, implicit, a identităţii<br />
şi subliniază instabilitatea, relativitatea şi provizoratul acesteia.<br />
72
Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of GALAŢI<br />
Fascicle XIII. New Series.<br />
Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006<br />
pp. 73 - 80<br />
73<br />
Language<br />
and<br />
Literature<br />
EFECTUL PERLOCUŢIONAR EFICIENT ŞI COMUNIUNEA FATICĂ ÎN<br />
TEXTUL LITERAR DIN PERIOADA COMUNISTĂ<br />
Gina Necula<br />
Preliminarii<br />
Ocupându-se de acţiunea şi interacţiunea comunicativă din perspectiva pragmaticii,<br />
Liliana Ionescu-Ruxăndoiu subliniază aspecte de interes pentru demersul nostru:<br />
„Comunicarea verbală pune în funcţiune nu numai filtrul gramaticalităţii […], ci şi filtrul<br />
reuşitei şi eficienţei. Există deci enunţuri corecte sau incorecte sub aspect gramatical, dar<br />
enunţurile corecte pot fi reuşite sau nereuşite, după cum formularea aleasă de E permite<br />
sau nu R să sesizeze intenţiile cu care au fost rostite, iar enunţurile reuşite, la rândul lor,<br />
pot fi eficiente sau ineficiente, după cum au sau nu asupra R efectul dorit de E,<br />
modificându-i în mod corespunzător comportarea, ideile sau sentimentele” (Ionescu-<br />
Ruxăndoiu, 1991: 11).<br />
După autoarea citată, fiecare enunţ constituie un act de comunicare în a cărui<br />
structură pot fi identificate:<br />
- o componentă locuţionară – actele verbale, având o structură fonetică, gramaticală<br />
şi semantică, independente de situaţia de comunicare – obiectul de studiu al gramaticii;<br />
- o componentă ilocuţionară – asociază conţinutului propoziţional al enunţurilor o<br />
forţă convenţională specifică, determinată de intenţiile comunicative ale E şi recunoscută<br />
ca atare de către R (acte reprezentative, directive, comisive, expresive, declaraţii;<br />
- o componentă perlocuţionară – efectele produse de enunţurile cu forţă ilocuţionară<br />
asupra R definesc actele perlocuţionare.<br />
Trebuie precizat faptul că nu orice act ilocuţionar are consecinţe perlocuţionare<br />
directe, ci doar actele eficiente. Ne interesează în mod deosebit efectul perlocuţionar,<br />
component al oricărui act de vorbire. Efectul perlocuţionar putând fi eficient sau ineficient,<br />
ambele efecte perlocuţionare pot fi definite prin prisma intenţiilor vorbitorului: efectul<br />
perlocuţionar eficient este efectul pe care vorbitorul vrea să-l aibă asupra ascultătorului, în<br />
timp ce în cazul efectului perlocuţionar ineficient intenţiile vorbitorului nu se<br />
materializează .<br />
Fenomen de limbaj, literatura nu este numai o construcţie de cuvinte, ci ea implică<br />
o serie întreagă de referinţe extralingvistice. Din perspectiva teoriilor comunicării Corti<br />
afirmă că: „La baza formelor de comunicare literară, chiar şi a celor mai originale, există o<br />
arie comună de competenţă a emitentului şi a destinatarului, constituită de lectură, ca<br />
sistem informativ şi comunicativ” (Corti, 1981 : 24). Fiecare <strong>text</strong> are un loc în literatură,<br />
deoarece intră în relaţie cu celelalte <strong>text</strong>e. De fapt, nici literatura, cum de altfel, nici<br />
vorbirea obişnuită, nu transmite de fiecare dată idei noi, ci doar repetă teme, motive, tipare.<br />
În acelaşi fel se realizează şi decodificarea mesajului unei opere literare, fiind nevoie ca<br />
cititorul să pună <strong>text</strong>ul în relaţie cu alte <strong>text</strong>e la care a avut acces, pentru a stabili legăturile<br />
de sens necesare.
În literatură posibilităţile semnificative şi comunicative se actualizează altfel decât<br />
în limbă pentru că limba literară e un sistem de comunicare conotativ, cu acumulare<br />
diacronică, iar sintagmele au un plus semantic care le vine din con<strong>text</strong>ele artistice<br />
precedente în care s-au actualizat.<br />
În Principiile comunicării literare, Maria Corti aprecia că „artistul are pe de o parte<br />
asprul destin de a surprinde obscuritatea profundă, indescifrabilă, a realului, iar pe de altă<br />
parte de a asocia într-un mod nou semnele emise de referenţi în universul cultural şi<br />
ideologic al propriei epoci, proces prin care el participă la natura socială a structurilor<br />
literare, de care este condiţionat, fie că favorizează sistemul de aşteptări ale societăţii, fie<br />
că se pune în antagonism cu acesta. Literatura apare aşadar ca un loc de întâlnire sau<br />
confruntare între conştiinţa individuală şi cea colectivă, întâlnire ce se schimbă odată cu<br />
schimbarea istoriei ei” (Idem. : 39).<br />
Comuniunea fatică în <strong>text</strong>ul literar din perioada comunistă<br />
Propaganda a ales calea cea mai scurtă şi mai eficientă: activarea instinctelor. Sursa<br />
energetică şi persuasivă a propagandei prin literatură este manipularea unor modele<br />
binecunoscute omului simplu. Activarea resentimentelor, aţâţarea sunt cele mai bune<br />
instrumente folosite în controlul mulţimii. Instigarea la ură a dat viaţă unei literaturi ce, în<br />
mod normal, ar fi trebuit să fie hărăzită morţii rapide prin intoxicare cu clişee.<br />
Felul în care este citit/perceput un <strong>text</strong> în interiorul unei culturi are semnificaţie politică.<br />
Istoria literară este presărată cu exemple de <strong>text</strong>e care au fost considerate, la un moment<br />
dat, periculoase pentru un anumit regim politic. Sarcina criticilor, în astfel de cazuri este să<br />
sancţioneze şi să corecteze abuzurile. Sensul orientat al unei opere literare este o invenţie a<br />
politicii.<br />
Limba îşi impune singură regulile: trebuie să ne conformăm unui sistem gramatical<br />
dar şi unui set de convenţii stabilite prin tradiţie pentru a putea fi înţeleşi de alţii. Există<br />
întotdeauna în mesaj o serie de insinuări ale societăţii în care autorul şi cititorul se<br />
integrează. În această idee se înscrie şi afirmaţia lui Green: „we read within traditions of<br />
reading, and our assumptions are based on those traditions” (Green, LeBihan, 1996: 187).<br />
Subliniem astfel faptul că aşteptările neexprimate ale unui <strong>text</strong> sunt parte a istoriei pe care<br />
<strong>text</strong>ul respectiv o poartă. Textele par să propulseze cititorul pe un drum<br />
predestinat/predeterminat, dar ele pot fi citite şi interpretate în diverse scopuri ideologice.<br />
Trebuie făcută precizarea că lectura literară este diferită faţă de orice alt tip de lectură<br />
pentru că cititorul trebuie să ajungă la o anumită atitudine care să permită reiterarea tuturor<br />
valenţelor <strong>text</strong>ului.<br />
Wolfgang Iser, în eseul Interaction Between Text and Reader, analizează<br />
comunicarea prin literatură în următorii termeni: „a process set in motion and regulated,<br />
not by a given code, but by a mutually restrictive and magnifying interaction between the<br />
explicit and the implicit, between revelation and concealment. What is concealed spurs the<br />
reader into action, but this action is also controlled by what is revealed; the explicit in its<br />
turn is transformed when the implicit has been brought to light. Whenever the reader<br />
bridges the gaps, communication begins. The gaps function as a kind of pivot on which the<br />
whole <strong>text</strong>/reader relationship revolves. Hence, the structured blanks of the <strong>text</strong> stimulate<br />
the process of ideation to be performed by the reader on terms set by the <strong>text</strong>” (Iser,<br />
1989:106). Astfel <strong>text</strong>ul este văzut ca o imagine fragmentară a cărei părţi lipsă trebuie<br />
reconstituite de către cititor.<br />
Abordarea <strong>text</strong>ului literar se face din perspectiva funcţiilor limbii, interesându-ne<br />
aici, în mod deosebit, funcţia fatică, o funcţie neglijată în majoritatea lucrărilor de<br />
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specialitate datorită accepţiei şi rolului secundar pe care i le acordă Roman Jakobson. Ne<br />
întoarcem aşadar la accepţia lui Bronislaw Malinowski (Malinowski, 1923: 313) asupra<br />
faticităţii unui mesaj. Plecând de la premisa că funcţia principală a limbii nu este aceea de<br />
a exprima gândirea, Malinowschi identifică drept funcţie fundamentală a comunicării<br />
aceea de a juca un rol pragmatic în comportamentul uman. Este vorba aici despre limba<br />
folosită ca instrument de comuniune socială demonstrând că oamenii se adună şi comunică<br />
între ei pentru a arăta că fac parte dintr-un grup. Schimbul zilnic, banal de amabilităţi care<br />
se întâlneşte în comunicare este numit de autor cu termenul „sociabilities” pentru a sublinia<br />
nevoia omului de socializare. „There can be no doubt that we have here a new type of<br />
linguistic use – phatic communion. I am tempted to call it, actuated by the demon of<br />
terminological invention – a type of speech in which ties of union are created by a mere<br />
exchange of words”( Idem: 315).<br />
Din observaţiile lui Malinowski reiese că limba este folosită, în primul rând, pentru<br />
a îndeplini funcţii sociale, adică relaţiile şi interacţiunile sociale sunt negociate prin<br />
intermediul expresiei lingvistice. Ne referim aici la ceea ce autorul numeşte „comuniune<br />
fatică” şi pe care autorul o descrie ca fiind: „a feeling of belonging to a community”<br />
(ibidem). Comuniunea fatică implică menţinerea sentimentului apartenenţei la o<br />
comunitate, a solidarităţii între membrii grupului, dar şi un sentiment de acceptare a<br />
celorlalţi şi de acceptare de către ceilalţi.<br />
Astfel relaţiile între membrii unei comunităţi lingvistice pot fi descrise, în termenii lui<br />
Malinowski, astfel:<br />
contact / relaţii ierarhice / sentimente pozitive = comuniune fatică<br />
solidaritate<br />
comuniune fatică<br />
statut social<br />
relaţii sociale<br />
Toţi aceşti factori definesc limba ca un fenomen dinamic pentru că interacţiunea<br />
fatică presupune acordul în privinţa semnificaţiilor, iar faticitatea poate fi negociată şi<br />
construită prin expresii.<br />
Comuniunea fatică stă la baza proceselor interpretative la care cititorul trebuie să<br />
participe în scopul identificării corecte a semnificaţiilor intenţionate de către autor dar<br />
neexprimate explicit. Asistăm în cazul literaturii la un tip de comunicare orientată puternic<br />
către celălalt.<br />
Cele şase funcţii ale limbii sunt prezente în orice mesaj în anumite proporţii în<br />
funcţie de natura mesajului şi de scopul urmărit. Importanţa funcţiilor în cadrul<br />
interacţiunii sociale determină o ierarhizare a acestora pentru că fiecare mesaj este dominat<br />
de o anumită/anumite funcţii în timp ce celelalte sunt doar secundare. Georgeta Ghica preia<br />
de la Mannheim o serie de observaţii privitoare la abordarea semiotică a acestui fenomen,<br />
constatând faptul că acest tip de abordare „a dus la considerarea funcţiilor referenţială,<br />
conativă, fatică şi expresivă ca fiind semiotic- extrovertite, deoarece obiectul mesajului<br />
este în afara lui, pe când funcţiile metalingvistică şi poetică sunt considerate semioticextrovertite,<br />
deoarece obiectul lor este însăşi activitatea semnului” (Cf.Ghica, 1999: 140 ).<br />
Referindu-se la relaţia dintre funcţia fatică şi alte funcţii ale limbii, Georgeta Ghica<br />
consideră că: „Exercitându-se la nivelul canalului, care reprezintă conducta materială sau<br />
legătura psihologică (cf. Jakobson) dintre emiţător şi receptor, funcţia fatică se raportează<br />
inevitabil la funcţiile emotivă şi conativă, orientate asupra celor doi factori menţionaţi mai<br />
sus. Caracterul explicit sau, dimpotrivă, estompat al acestui raport este o consecinţă<br />
firească a diversităţii situaţiilor de comunicare” (Ghica, 1999: 140 ).<br />
75
Funcţia fatică întâlneşte funcţia emotivă în zona interjecţiilor. Acestea au dublu rol:<br />
pe de o parte, atrag atenţia interlocutorului, pe de altă parte, poartă încărcătură afectivă,<br />
aducând informaţii cu privire la starea emotivă a vorbitorului.<br />
Funcţia fatică şi cea conativă interacţionează – mesajele trebuie să fie percepute<br />
corect pentru a fi decodate de către receptor. Ghica consideră că „un asemenea rol dublu –<br />
fatic şi conativ – se observă mai ales la elementele care contribuie la declanşarea /<br />
stimularea comunicării. Intrate în structura mesajelor, aceste elemente aduc receptorului<br />
informaţii suplimentare, cum ar fi rolul sau statutul pe care vorbitorul îl acordă<br />
receptorului; natura relaţiei pe care emiţătorul o propune, ajutându-l astfel pe receptor în<br />
opţiunile pe care urmează să le facă” (Idem: 145 ).<br />
Relaţia dintre funcţia fatică şi cea metalingvistică este prezentată în lucrarea citată<br />
astfel: „Adesea, în verificarea codului, vorbitorul recurge la întrebări de tipul mă înţelegi?,<br />
ştii? care, în acelaşi timp, atrag sau fac să crească atenţia interlocutorului, îndeplinind, deci,<br />
un rol fatic” (Idem: 148). Funcţia fatică are în comun cu cea metalingvistică faptul că, în<br />
timp ce una verifică dacă există comunicare, cealaltă este folosită de către participanţii la<br />
procesul de comunicare pentru a verifica dacă se foloseşte acelaşi cod în vederea unei bune<br />
comunicări.<br />
În literatură posibilităţile semnificative şi comunicative se actualizează altfel decât<br />
în limbă pentru că limba literară e un sistem de comunicare conotativ, cu acumulare<br />
diacronică, iar sintagmele au un plus semantic care le vine din con<strong>text</strong>ele artistice<br />
precedente în care s-au actualizat.<br />
Unele aspecte care interesează aici ţin de pragmatica <strong>text</strong>ului, adică acelea legate de<br />
cooperare. Cooperarea este definită de către Umberto Eco ca fiind acel aspect al<br />
pragmaticii <strong>text</strong>ului „care îl determină pe destinatar să extragă din <strong>text</strong> ceea ce <strong>text</strong>ul nu<br />
spune (dar presupune, promite, implică şi implicitează), să umple spaţiile goale, să pună în<br />
legătură ceea ce se găseşte în acel <strong>text</strong> cu ţesătura inter<strong>text</strong>ualităţii în care îşi are originea<br />
acel <strong>text</strong> şi cu care se va contopi” (Eco, 1991: 25 ).<br />
Comunicarea fatică este o trăsătură specifică conversaţiei zilnice. Efortul de a<br />
menţine comunicarea demonstrează faptul că o conversaţie trebuie să fie dinamitată cu<br />
mărci afective pentru că relaţiile sociale sunt negociate şi controlate prin asemenea<br />
mijloace. Stabilirea unei legături între participanţii la procesul de comunicare poate<br />
semnaliza raporturi de incluziune, defineşte relaţiile şi raporturile.<br />
După cum declaram la început, intenţia acestei lucrări este să demonstreze<br />
importanţa „comuniunii fatice” în cazul unui tip de comunicare pândită de tentaţia clişeului<br />
şi aflată sub ameninţarea cenzurii.<br />
Nevoia de a „congrega”, de a face parte dintr-un grup poate fi urmărită în <strong>text</strong>ul<br />
literar, mai ales în acele <strong>text</strong>e care, pândite de pericolul cenzurii, trebuiau să stabilească<br />
contactul cu cititorul prin diversiuni care să înşele vigilenţa ideologiei de partid. Unul<br />
dintre maeştrii disimulării înregimentării este Marin Preda, autor la care stabilirea<br />
comuniunii fatice se poate face doar cuun cititor care poate citi ironic sau parodic clişeul<br />
lingvistic subminat.<br />
“Bine, continuă Moromete adresându-se prietenilor lui liberali, dat fiind că statul are<br />
nevoie de parale fiindcă nu mai suntem ca pe vremea regimului burghez al moşierului<br />
…de moşieri, cu sămânţa lor, de unde i-au mai scos şi pe-ăştia, care ştiţi şi voi alde<br />
Costache şi alde Matei că se luă moşia a mare a coanei Marica îndată după ălălalt<br />
război, şi nu acuma, dar dat fiind că numai ei au nevoie de bani, noi n-avem, să zicem<br />
că fonciirea trebuie achitată…”<br />
(Preda – Moromeţii II, 126)<br />
Textul acesta atrage atenţia asupra unei trăsături specifice discursului ideologic: - e<br />
vorba de un discurs unic, diferă doar persoana care îl rosteşte şi „patima”,<br />
76
ascultătorii/cititorii avizaţi se „lămuresc” repede că aşa stau lucrurile; - discursul nu are în<br />
vedere un referent real ci doar reproduce clişee; funcţia sa principală este „să-i facă să nu<br />
priceapă”, să manipuleze. În ceea ce priveşte modalităţile de inserare în discurs a clişeelor<br />
constatăm, aşa după cum afirmă şi Rovenţa-Frumuşani, „bivalenţa funcţională a clişeului:<br />
valoarea sa de introductiv al replicii şi rolul său fatic” (Rovenţa-Frumuşani, 1994: 12). Fie<br />
că este asumat sau nu, clişeul este un element care contribuie la realizarea comuniunii<br />
fatice, constituindu-se în liantul care marchează apartenenţa la o anumită clasă socială sau<br />
legătuirle cu o anumită ideologie.<br />
La Buzura, preluarea sloganului se face cu intenţie demistificatoare, cu atât mai<br />
mult cu cât şi con<strong>text</strong>ul trimite către ironizarea tendinţei de nivelare socială prin limbaj.<br />
Personajul din Vocile nopţii, Pintea trăieşte o experienţă limită, este supus la interogatorii<br />
pentru o culpă necunoscută. Reacţia în faţa torţionarului probează dorinţa autorului de a<br />
obţine aprobarea cititorului:<br />
„Aveţi voi îndrăzneala să bateţi un om al muncii, puişor? Pe un fruntaş în producţie?<br />
Se pomeni Pintea întrebându-l cu o neaşteptată siguranţă. Păi, cine credeţi că vă dă<br />
vouă pâine? N-ai citit că e interzisă bătaia chiar şi în sânul familiei? Păi, ai habar<br />
câţi ţin eu în spate, eu acesta pe care de-abia aştepţi să-l legi? Şase micimane! Dar eu<br />
cred că sunt mai mulţi. Confundaţi oamenii, îi sculaţi din somn. Şi tocmai acum? Păi,<br />
ţara trăieşte cu mâinile suflecate, produce oţel, pâine, carne, şi voi ce faceţi? Mă<br />
scoateţi din ritm, mă obosiţi, mă enervaţi. Nu vă daţi seama că întârziaţi cu voia<br />
construirea noii societăţi? Se poate? Îţi tai raţia, înţelegi? Începând de azi îmi aleg pe<br />
alţii care să mă călărească”.<br />
(Buzura, Vocile…, p. 27)<br />
Identificăm aici, pe de o parte, nevoia de a afirma apartenenţa la un grup prin<br />
asimilarea şi asumarea de clişee şi, pe de altă parte, nevoia de a submina aceste bariere<br />
lingvistice care ajung să devină bariere sociale.<br />
Nevoia de socializare a individului îi impune să se supună unui anumit ritual lingvistic,<br />
dacă societatea impune aceste tipare, dar ironia amară, care se degajă din astfel de citate,<br />
demonstrează dorinţa de transmite cititorului mesaje subliminale.<br />
„Pentru astea va avea grijă colectivul să facă nişte comitete de batere la cap. Ei o sămi<br />
dea sfaturi, eu, spăşit, pe un ton dramatic, o să-mi iau nişte angajamente şi gata.<br />
Zgomot mare pentru o nimic toată. Dacă o să fiu cuminte, mă vor coopta şi pe mine<br />
într-un asemenea colectiv şi voi fi dat de pildă că am ajuns la fel de cenuşiu ca alţii,<br />
bun de arbitru la concursul Cine-i cel mai incolor câştigă!”<br />
(Buzura, Vocile…, p. 34)<br />
Distingem pe de o parte, „intenţia autorului de a fi cu ceilalţi prin intermediul <strong>text</strong>ului creat<br />
şi, pe de altă parte, strădania cititorului ca, prin acelaşi <strong>text</strong>, pe care încearcă să-l decodeze<br />
adecvat, să capteze un mesaj din nenumăratele mesaje care îl asaltează. Recunoaştem<br />
totodată, în ceea ce Malinowski numeşte atmosferă de sociabilitate, cooperarea pe care o<br />
realizează cititorul cu autorul <strong>text</strong>ului în procesul lecturii, cooperare care decurge din<br />
funcţionarea solidară a comprehensiunii şi a evaluării”( Ghica, 1999: 135 ).<br />
Există însă şi situaţii în care ridicolul supraîncărcării semantice a unui cuvânt iese foarte<br />
uşor în evidenţă. Prin personajul său, Ilie Moromete, Preda ironizează cuvintele de acest<br />
gen sugerând intenţia de a le învăţa când, de fapt, e vorba doar de mimarea acestui efort:<br />
„Moromete surâdea: «Auzi, mă, Matei, ce zice lipoveanul ăsta, că tu şi cu Giugudel<br />
(şi l-a mai adăugat şi pe Cârstache la rând) cică sunteţi uneltele mele. Adică cum<br />
unelte?» (Era un cuvânt din ziare, prin care erau desemnaţi astfel acei ţărani care<br />
77
continuau încă să fie în relaţii paşnice cu chiaburii, cuvânt necunoscut în sat prin<br />
care erau desemnaţi cei cu stare.) Prin unelte, Moromete dădea de înţeles că se<br />
gândeşte la o furcă, o sapă, o greblă…”<br />
(Preda, Moromeţii II: 124).<br />
Interesat fiind de sociologia limbii, Fishman consideră că limba nu este doar un instrument<br />
de realizare a comunicării interpersonale şi de influenţare, sau doar purtătoarea de<br />
semnificaţii, fie ele manifeste sau latente, ci: „Language itself is content, a referent for<br />
loyalties and animosities, an indicator of social statuses and personal relationships, a<br />
marker of situations and topics as well as of the societal goals …” (Fishman, 1997: 27 ) .<br />
Dominique Mangueneau susţine că „în calitate de discurs, literatura nu poate să se<br />
plaseze în exteriorul cerinţelor principiului cooperării sau a legii modalităţii, dar, în<br />
calitate de literatură, ea se supune, în funcţie de economia sa proprie, de raportul pe care<br />
fiecare operă sau tip de operă îl instituie cu utilizările nelimitate ale discursului”<br />
(Maingueneau, 1990: 121).<br />
Concluzii<br />
Ideea de comuniune fatică ne ajută, în cazul de faţă, să înţelegem mai bine felul în care<br />
sunt negociate relaţiile autor-cititor în cazul discursului literar, putând menţiona, din<br />
această perspectivă, două tipuri fundamentale de comuniune identificabile în <strong>text</strong>ele<br />
studiate: o comuniune care are la bază ideologia asumată şi una care se stabileşte prin<br />
disimulare, urmărind de fapt subminarea limbii de lemn. Identificăm astfel două tipuri de<br />
autori/cititori: un tip naiv, care se identifică cu <strong>text</strong>ul ideologic şi aderă la el doar din<br />
nevoia integrării într-un grup şi un alt grup care stabileşte comuniunea fatică tocmai prin<br />
recuzarea unui discurs considerat ilogic.<br />
Sănătatea unei naţii poate fi apreciată după starea în care se află literatura care o<br />
reprezintă. Limbajul literar este diferit de cel comun pentru că finalitatea lui nu este aceea<br />
de a exersa competenţele limbii, ci aceea de a exprima cultura şi civilizaţia, pe care le<br />
poate modela. Limbajul standard are funcţie comunicativă, iar cel literar vizează intelectul<br />
pentru că exprimă esenţa unei gândiri şi este centrat pe funcţia estetică. Din această cauză<br />
punctul de vedere al unui scriitor nu poate fi decât unic, nicidecum colectiv. Un scriitor nu<br />
este purtătorul de cuvânt al grupului social din care face parte, ci vocea unei conştiinţe.<br />
Discursul literar devine, prin infuzia ideologiei, o formă a culturii populare, propovăduind,<br />
în mod intens, principiile realismului social şi ale poporanismului. El dobândeşte un<br />
caracter militant, servind atingerii „celor mai sfinte idealuri ale poporului”. Scriitorii sunt<br />
numiţi de Stalin „ingineri ai sufletelor omeneşti”, având responsabilitatea de a lupta cu<br />
„armele” specifice domeniului lor de activitate împotriva culturii burgheziei.<br />
Distingem aşadar, pe de o parte, intenţia autorului de a fi cu ceilalţi prin<br />
intermediul <strong>text</strong>ului creat şi, pe de altă parte, strădania cititorului ca, prin acelaşi <strong>text</strong>, pe<br />
care încearcă să-l decodeze adecvat, să capteze un mesaj din nenumăratele mesaje care îl<br />
asaltează. Recunoaştem totodată, în ceea ce Malinowski numeşte atmosferă de<br />
sociabilitate, (cooperarea pe care o realizează cititorul cu autorul <strong>text</strong>ului în procesul<br />
lecturii, cooperare care decurge din funcţionarea solidară a comprehensiunii şi a evaluării.<br />
Nevoia de a „congrega”, de a face parte dintr-un grup poartă, în termenii lui Malinowski,<br />
denumirea de comuniune fatică. Comuniunea fatică stă la baza proceselor interpretative la<br />
care cititorul trebuie să participe în scopul identificării corecte a semnificaţiilor<br />
intenţionate de către autor dar neexprimate explicit. Asistăm în cazul literaturii la un tip de<br />
comunicare orientată puternic către celălalt.<br />
78
Specific comunicării literare este faptul că unei competenţe lingvistice a autorului îi<br />
corespunde o competenţă a destinatarilor, pentru că aceştia din urmă sunt puşi în situaţia de<br />
a descoperi în mesaj semnificaţiile intenţionate de autor. Astfel constatăm că opera conţine<br />
în ea însăşi imaginea cititorului căruia îi este destinată însă raportul destinatarului cu opera<br />
nu poate fi niciodată acelaşi pentru că destinatarul, ca şi emitentul, sunt o sumă de relaţii<br />
psihologice, istorice, socio-culturale, semiologice. De interes deosebit, aşadar, în ceea ce<br />
priveşte receptarea, conform unor dezvoltări şi aplicaţii ale unui alt adept al teoriei lui<br />
Véron, „contractul de lectură” serveşte pentru a caracteriza funcţionarea, în orice tip de<br />
„suport de presă”, a „dispozitivului de enunţare”, adică a „modalităţilor de a spune”,<br />
cuprinzând: a) imaginea celui care transmite un mesaj, locul pe care şi-l atribuie acesta faţă<br />
de „ce spune”; b) imaginea celui căruia îi este destinat discursul, locul ce-i este atribuit<br />
acestuia; c) relaţia dintre emiţător şi destinatar, care poate fi, de fapt, altul decât receptorul<br />
real.<br />
REFERINŢE:<br />
Corti, Maria (1981), Literatură şi comunicare, în Principiile comunicării literare, Bucureşti, Editura<br />
Univers, p. 21-33<br />
Dumistrăcel, Stelian (2006), Limbajul publicistic românesc din perspectiva stilurilor funcţionale, Iaşi, Ed.<br />
Institutul European<br />
Eco, Umberto (1991), Cititorul model, în Lector in fabula, Bucureşti, Editura Univers<br />
Fishman, Joshua A. (1997), The Sociology of Language, în Sociolinguistics a Reader and Coursebook,<br />
London, Edited by Nickolas Coupland and Adam Jaworski<br />
Ghica, Georgeta (1999), Exprimarea funcţiei fatice în operele literare, în Elemente fatice ale comunicării în<br />
româna vorbită, Bucureşti Editura ALCRIS-M94<br />
Green, Keith, LeBihan, Jill (1996), Language, linguistics and literature, în Critical theory and practice, A<br />
Coursebook – Routledge, New York & London<br />
Ionescu-Ruxăndoiu, Liliana (1991), Pragmatica – domeniu al acţiunii şi interacţiunii communicative, în<br />
Naraţiune şi dialog în proza românească, Bucureşti, Editura Academiei Române<br />
Iser, Wolfgang (1989), Interaction between <strong>text</strong> and reader, în S.R. Suleiman and I. Crossman (eds.), The<br />
Reader in the Text: Essays on Audience and Interpretation, Princeton: Princeton University Press,<br />
106-112<br />
Maingueneau, Dominique (1990), Pragmatique pour le discours littéraire, Paris, Bordas<br />
Malinowski, Bronislaw (1923), The Problem of Meaning in Primitive Languages, în The Meaning of<br />
Meaning – A Study of the Influence of Language Upon Thought and of the Science of Symbolism by<br />
C.K. Ogden & J.A. Richards with supplementary essays by B. Malinowski & F. G. Crookshank, A<br />
Harvest Book, Harcourt, Brace & Company New York<br />
Minet, Pierre (1997), Le contrat de lecture dans les journaux télévisés belges: comparaison entre science et<br />
football, în Sciences et Médias, p. 223 – 231<br />
Rovenţa-Frumuşani, Daniela (1994), Introducere în teoria argumentării, Bucureşti, Editura Universităţii<br />
Surse literare:<br />
Buzura, Augustin, Vocile nopţii, Editura Minerva, Bucureşti, 1980.<br />
Preda, Marin, Moromeţii, vol. II, Bucureşti, E.S.P.L.A., 1967.<br />
Abstract<br />
Human communication is seen as a very complex reality. Bronislaw Malinowski is the one who<br />
identifies the phatic function of language as fundamental for understanding the communication<br />
principles. Among the first conclusions drawn from his observations Malinowski states that<br />
language is used to perform social functions; in other words, social relationships and interaction<br />
were geared to the use of linguistic expressions. One of such functions consists of what he called<br />
fatic communion. Language is used to maintain fatic communion - a feeling of belonging to a<br />
community. Fatic communion involves the maintenance of a sense of community, of solidarity<br />
with other members of the group, of a particular status within the hierarchies of the group, and at<br />
the same time a feeling of accepting others and being oneself accepted by others. The present<br />
79
article tries to identify the way ”fatic communion” works within literary discourse, especially<br />
within censored literary <strong>text</strong> that supposed to make use of extra means in order to communicate<br />
with its reader<br />
This article aims to prove that literature has a significant role in exposing the<br />
manipulating policy of the communist boilerplate language. In this respect, inter<strong>text</strong>uality proves<br />
to be an appropriate instrument of communication between author and reader. Such con<strong>text</strong>s help<br />
to de-constructing this language and showing up its phonines. Our interest focuses on verbal<br />
irony which is to be illustrate through literary <strong>text</strong>s belonging to the communist era when the<br />
”freedom of speech, thought and action” was just a dream, so that the only way to really<br />
communicate was by twisting the clichés.<br />
Résumé<br />
La communication humaine est saisie comme une réalité complexe. Bronislaw Malinowski<br />
identifie la fonction phatique de la langue jouant un rôle fondamental dans la compréhension des<br />
principes de la communication. Malinowski s’appuie sur ses observations et en extrait ses<br />
premières conclusions : la langue est utilisée afin d’accomplir ses fonctions sociales ; autrement<br />
dit, les relations et les interactions sociales ont été organisées pour l’usage des expressions<br />
linguistiques. Une de ces fonctions représente ce que l’auteur nomme la communion phatique.<br />
La langue est utilisée pour entretenir la communication phatique – le sentiment d’appartenance<br />
à une communauté.<br />
La communion phatique inclut le maintient d’un certain bon sens de la communauté, de<br />
la solidarité avec les autres membres du groupe, le maintien d’une position spéciale dans<br />
l’hiérarchie du groupe et, en même temps, du sentiment d’acceptation des autres et du sentiment<br />
d’être accepté par les autres. L’article essaie d’identifier la manière dont la communion phatique<br />
fonctionne au niveau du discours littéraire, du <strong>text</strong>e littéraire censuré de préférence, supposé à<br />
utiliser des moyens supplémentaires dans la communication avec le lecteur. L’article veut<br />
démontrer que la littérature joue un rôle significatif dans le récit de la politique de manipulation<br />
du langage de bois communiste. Par conséquent, l’inter<strong>text</strong>ualité devient un instrument approprié<br />
à la communication entre l’auteur et le lecteur. De tels con<strong>text</strong>es vont contribuer à la<br />
déconstruction de ce type de langage et à la mise en relief de son haut degré de fausseté. Notre<br />
intérêt porte sur l’ironie verbale illustrée par des <strong>text</strong>es littéraires appartenant à l’époque<br />
communiste. A cette époque-là « la liberté de l’expression, de la pensée et de l’action » n’étaient<br />
qu’un rêve et, la communication n’était possible que par la modification des clichés.<br />
Rezumat<br />
Comunicarea umană este percepută ca o realitate complexă. Bronislaw Malinowski identifică<br />
fucnţia fatică a limbii ca jucând un rol fundamental în înţelegerea principiilor de comunicare. Pe<br />
baza observaţiilor sale, Malinowski include printre primele sale concluzii faptul că limba este<br />
utilizată pentru îndeplinirea funcţiilor sociale; cu alte cuvinte, relaţiile şi interacţiunile socialeau<br />
fost pregătite pentru utilizarea expresiilor lingvistice. Una dintre aceste fubcţii constă din ceea ce<br />
autorul numeşte comuniunea fatică. Limba este utilizată pentru a întreţine comunicarea fatică –<br />
sentimentul de apartenenţă la o comunitate. Comuniunea fatică implică păstrarea unui simţ al<br />
comunităţii, al solidarităţii cu alţi membri ai grupului, al unei poziţii speciale în ierarhiile<br />
grupului şi, în acelşi timp, şi unsentiment de acceptare a celorlalţi şi de a fi acceptat de ceilalţi.<br />
Articolul de faţă încearcă să identifice modul în care funcţionează comuniunea fatică la nivelul<br />
discursului literar, cu deosebire în <strong>text</strong>ul literar cenzurat, presupus a utiliza mijloace<br />
suplimentare în comunicarea cu cititorul. Articolul urmăreşte să demonstreze că literatura joacă<br />
un rol semnificativ în expunerea politicii de manipulare a limbajului de lemn comunist. Astfel,<br />
inter<strong>text</strong>ualitatea se dovedeşte un instrument adecvat pentru comunicarea dintre autor şi cititor.<br />
Astfel de con<strong>text</strong>e contribuie la deconstrucţionalizarea acestui limbaj şi la sublinierea înaltului<br />
său grad de falsitate. Interesul nostru se concentrează asupra ironiei verbale ilustrată prin <strong>text</strong>e<br />
literare aparţinând epocii comuniste când „libertatea exprimării, a gândirii şi a acţiunii” era<br />
doar un vis, astfel încât singurul mod de a comunica, într-adevăr, era doar prin modificarea<br />
clişeelor.<br />
80
Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of GALAŢI<br />
Fascicle XIII. New Series.<br />
Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006<br />
pp. 81 - 90<br />
81<br />
Language<br />
and<br />
Literature<br />
BODY LANGUAGE: SOMATIC IMAGERY IN WOMEN’S POETRY<br />
Lidia Mihaela Necula<br />
Body language and somatic imagery are two issues that have been dealt with quite a lot<br />
lately. The answer for this might be that women writers nowadays have been making<br />
poetry labeled as ‘extravagant’ by some and ‘outrageous’ by others. It should be mentioned<br />
that what we nowadays call ‘shocking’ has in fact three subspecies: what strikes the<br />
imagination – the extravagant; what strikes the senses – the repulsive; what torments and<br />
tortures the feeling – the terrifying. Women poetry is trapped somewhere in between the<br />
extravagant and the repulsive.<br />
The aim of the paper is to examine three sorts of representative attitudes<br />
discernable in women poets who explore female bodily experience associated with three<br />
sorts of verbal strategies. In the work which is referred to, the familiar vertical standard has<br />
shattered; body is not assumed to be inferior to some higher principle. The attitudes are<br />
rejection, ambivalence and affirmation; the verbal devices are irony, comedy and<br />
revisionist symbolism. Of special interest are the emotions, the forms employed and the<br />
reinterpretations of other matters which follow from interpreting the body.<br />
During the last three decades, America poets have been employing anatomical<br />
imagery both more frequently and more intimately than their male counterparts. Their<br />
female audiences enjoy this. Male readers, unsurprisingly, tend to be more uncomfortable<br />
by female candor and to feel that it is inartistic. The American artist sometimes avoided her<br />
femininity by getting her mental hysterectomy early. She will often not speak for female<br />
experience even when the men do. She will be the angel-artist, with celestially muted<br />
lower parts. Sometimes, in any of the arts, where women’s work remains beauti<strong>full</strong>y<br />
mandarin or minor, it may not be because of their womanhood but from their lack of it.<br />
It is of course difficult for any of us to evade the mental yardstick which seems to have<br />
been let down from heaven like Jacob’s ladder, governing thousands of years of religion,<br />
philosophy and literature, according to which the mortal and corruptible flesh imprisons<br />
the immortal and incorruptible soul, the body is base and the mind exalted.<br />
If anatomy is destiny, we all want to escape it. From Plato to Freud, and beyond<br />
Fred to Simone de Beauvoir, civilization means vertical mobility: one transcends the body<br />
in order to achieve something o public worth. In The Second Sex (1972) Simone de<br />
Beauvoir develops this idea more explicitly than any other writer, in the course of a<br />
argument designed to show that male biology, because its strength and independence<br />
encourage the masculine deeds of control, acts relatively to man’s advantage, while female<br />
biology, because it is organized to serve the iron grasp of the species (ends of procreation)<br />
rather than the individual, is a handicap. For de Beauvoir, the inferior life of immanence<br />
associated with the body must become superior life of ‘transcendence’ willed by the<br />
striving individual ego; this, she believes, will improve the lives of individuals of both<br />
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<br />
been required to write about the flesh herself.<br />
From pleasure to pain<br />
If, traditionally, the flesh has been either overlooked or disregarded, that has happened due<br />
to two main reasons. The flesh is both corrupt and corruptible; that is, both inherently<br />
sinful and inherently subject to change and death. The former grievance is expressed<br />
morally, the latter lyrically – and with the understanding that in the youth and prime of life,<br />
the flesh is a source of pleasure.<br />
A large number of women poets since the 1960’s appear to view the body as a<br />
source essentially of pain, not pleasure. The topicality of such issues as: abortion, breast<br />
surgery, rape have become part of women’s poetic repertoire. There exists a subgenre of<br />
poems in which a woman’s flesh and blood are manipulated by a condescending doctor<br />
figure. The damaged bodies of war victims, the hungry bodies of famine victims are<br />
important images in the work of Adrienne Rich, Muriel Rukeyser, and Denise Levertov.<br />
Women also seem drawn to describe psychic hurt in somatic terms.<br />
“We sat across the table,/ he said, cut off your hands,/ they’re always poking at things,/ they might<br />
touch me./ I said yes./ Food grew cold on the table,/ he said burn your body,/ it is not clean and<br />
smells like sex,/ it rubs my mind sore,/ I said yes./ I love you, I said,/ that’s very nice, he said,/ I like<br />
to be loved,/ that makes me happy./ Have you cut off your hands yet?” (Piercy Marge, The<br />
Friend, 1973: 65).<br />
The very beginning lines point to an idea of distance and coldness between the two<br />
protagonists who have already engaged themselves in an incessant love battle for<br />
supremacy: both of them have clearly marked their own territories ‘across the table’. The<br />
hands have turned into lifeless/ loveless objects that are ‘always poking at things’: they no<br />
longer are the mouth of the body which once kissed, touched and felt and comforted the<br />
beloved one. The lines are filled with images that describe the metamorphosis of pleasure<br />
into pain: love is the ‘food’ which ‘grew cold on the table’ with the passing of time and the<br />
two lovers have obviously lost the passion which de-flamed their bond. The idea that love<br />
is not only painful but filthy thus requiring purification by fire is in the line ‘he said burn<br />
your body’, which, paradoxically enough might be seen as a solution to the riddle of love if<br />
we are to translate it into ‘go and inflame you body, go and fill it with life, with fire and<br />
passion’. The imagery created is so strong and powerful that we can almost picture the two<br />
lovers sitting across the table while poking at each other, and smell the strong stench of<br />
sweat gliding down the two bodies after having had animalistic sex. The woman seems to<br />
be mentally crippled since she is unable to take attitude and react against her being turned<br />
into a mere (sexual) object: ‘I said yes’.<br />
With Anne Sexton, the body is turned into a protagonist of the poem: there is a<br />
suggestion of self-abandonment into comfort, into tranquility, the tranquility that one needs<br />
to flee back from all the ado of the modern world.<br />
‘Oh, darling, let your body in,/ let it tie you in,/ in comfort …/ What I want to say, Linda,/ is that<br />
there is nothing in your body that lies.’ (Little Girl, My String Bean, My Lovely Woman, 1973:<br />
124).<br />
Most women writers make use of powerful somatic imagery in their poems to<br />
render the idea of psychic hurt and scorn of the flesh: there is always a strong connection<br />
between physical vulnerability and ironic self-rejection.<br />
‘Stop bleeding said the knife./ I would if I could said the cut./ Stop bleeding you make me messy<br />
with this blood./ I’m sorry said the cut.’ (Swenson May, Bleeding, 1978: 54).<br />
The normal as well as the abnormal in a woman’s life may feel like imprisonment,<br />
as in Lisel Mueller’s Life of a Queen (1975: 134) which summarizes the biological cycle of<br />
82
cognate species: ‘They build a pendulous chamber/ for her, and stuff her with sweets … A crew<br />
disassembles/ her royal cell’, or the opening of Anne Sexton’s Snow White: ‘No matter what life<br />
you lead/ the virgin is a lovely number,/ cheeks fragile as cigarette paper,/ arms and legs made of<br />
Limoges,/ lips like Vin du Rhone,/ rolling her china blue eyes/ open and shut’ (1973:84).<br />
To understand the connection between physical vulnerability and ironic selfrejection,<br />
we may consider Sylvia Plath. Plath’ work is filled with body images both<br />
internal and external: skin, blood, skulls, feet, mouths tongues, wounds, bone, lungs, heart<br />
and veins, legs and arms. She writes of both male and female bodies. She also projects<br />
human anatomy into the natural world. The moon is ‘a face in its own right, / White as a<br />
knuckle and terribly upset’ (1973: 142). Goldfish ponds being drained ‘collapse like<br />
lungs’, an elm speaks like a woman pregnant, or cancer-ridden – one cannot tell the<br />
difference: ‘Terrified by this dark thing/ That sleeps in me; / All day I feel its soft, feathery<br />
turnings, its malignity’ (145). When the poet is hospitalized, tulips breathe: ‘Lightly<br />
through their swaddlings, like an awful baby,/ their redness talks to my wound, it<br />
corresponds/ They are opening like the mouth of some African cat’ (146). The organic, for<br />
Plath, is approximately identical with suffering. Her poetry offers fragments of beings, not<br />
whole persons. In The World as Icon (1970:73) the critic Annette Lavers notices that the<br />
living flesh is felt as a prey to axes doctor’s needles, butchers’ and surgeons’ knives,<br />
poison, snakes, tentacles, acids, vampires, leaches and bats, jails and brutal boots.<br />
Similarly, small animals are butchered and eaten, man’s flesh can undergo the final<br />
indignity of being cut to pieces and used as an object. Subjects and metaphors include a<br />
cut, a contusion, the tragedy of thalidomide, fever, an accident, a wound, a paralysis, a<br />
burial, animal and human sacrifice, the burning of heretics, lands devastated by wars, and<br />
extermination camps. Therefore, Plath’s poetry is a ‘garden of tortures’ in which<br />
mutilation and annihilation take nightmarishly protean forms.<br />
A number of persistent motifs are particularly feminine. Plath’s imagery for<br />
strangulation implies in extreme form the woman fatally imprisoned and stifled by her own<br />
body. Attacks by miniature enemies evoke the idea of a woman’s body as a parasite,<br />
feeding from her life. Children are hooks sticking in one’s skin, and placenta and umbilical<br />
cord threaten to poet in Medusa. Most pain<strong>full</strong>y, her imagery of laceration suggests<br />
woman’s essential anatomical condition, shameful to endure, difficult to confess as in Cut<br />
where the poet runs through a series of brilliant metaphors for the thumb she has just sliced<br />
with a kitchen knife ‘instead of an onion’. All the metaphors are masculine and military:<br />
‘Little pilgrim …, redcoats …, homunculus …, kamikaze man’ before the final ‘How you<br />
jump -/ Trepanned veteran./ Dirty girl,/ Thumb stump’ (1973:149).<br />
What, after all, is more humiliating than being a bleeding dirty girl? At the same<br />
time, the landscape of war and mutilation in a poem like Getting there, the references to<br />
Jews and Nazis in Daddy and Lady Lazarus, the Hiroshima Ash of Fever 103 and even the<br />
sour commercial comedy of The Applicant in which a wife is sold like a household<br />
appliance and only the mutilated man can be normal enough to marry, reinforce Plath’s<br />
vision of worldly existence as at worst holocaust, at best tawdry sideshow. The drama of<br />
social and political life plays out, on a nightmarishly large scale, the victimization of the<br />
body.<br />
Plath demonstrates a will toward detachment from body and word in two ways, of<br />
which the first is Art – the distancing of experience through poetic manipulation. Her early<br />
verse employs tight formal structures, bookish diction, a harmony of allusions to<br />
sanctioned works of art and literature, and a consistently ironic impersonality of tone,<br />
which has everything to do with rising above experience, little to do with dwelling in it.<br />
The looser, less traditional forms of her late work rather intensify than relax our sense of<br />
the poet’s control. She manipulates rhyme and off rhyme, regular and irregular mater, with<br />
83
the casualness of a juggler tossing knives, and her mature mastery of colloquial idiom<br />
illustrates her contempt for the vulgar and cruel social relations which generate such idiom.<br />
She becomes a mocker of the vernacular, using language against itself: ‘The peanutcrunching<br />
crowds shoves in to see/ Them unwrap me hand and foot - /The big strip tease’<br />
(Lady Lazarus, 1973:152). But ‘Dying/ Is an art, like everything else’. The implicit<br />
equation is clear as early as ‘Two Views of a Cadaver Room’, which places a real-life scene<br />
with corpses next to the ‘panorama of smoke and slaughter’ in a Breughel painting. In The<br />
Disquieting Muses, Plath rejects her mother’s cheery songs and stories for the three bald<br />
and faceless figures she accepts as artistic guides. And in Ariel, as in poem after poem, the<br />
poet unpeels herself from her body, lets it flake away, annihilates the trash of flesh which<br />
disgusts her because it would make her kin to the ogling peanut-crunching crowd – as she<br />
transforms herself from the gross matter to a ‘pure acetylene virgin’ rising towards heaven,<br />
or to dew evaporating in the sunrise – transcendence always means death. And if she fears<br />
and scorns death’s perfection: ’Perfection is terrible. It cannot have children’, ‘This is<br />
what it means to be complete. It is horrible’ (153), self annihilation is nevertheless the<br />
ultimately ironic response to humiliation.<br />
Plath is an extreme example. One may view her work aesthetically as a radical<br />
extension of the mode of disenchanted alienation in the Eliot – Auden – Lowell line. One<br />
may view it morally as a capitulation to weakness, self-indulgence. Perhaps it is both. In<br />
any case, the identification of woman and body, body and vulnerability, vulnerability ad<br />
irony – which in effect responds to the implacable indifference or cruelty of the external<br />
world by internalizing it – is a common phenomenon in women’s poetry of the last thirty<br />
years or so.<br />
Advertising women<br />
As W. B. Yeats has his ‘beautiful mild woman’ (actually Maude Gonnet’s sister) observe<br />
in Adam’s Curse, ‘to be born a woman is to know / Although they do not speak of it at<br />
school /Women must labor to be beautiful (1983:56).<br />
The idea of vulnerability and self annihilation appears not only in the poems<br />
marking the passing from pleasure to pain but also in such poems dealing with the<br />
woman’s permanent concern to do away with the stereotype of exchange value created and<br />
kept alive by men.<br />
In reply, one may imagine a chorus of not-so-mild women poets remarking: you<br />
said it. The labors of loveliness have not been traditionally spoken in poetry, beyond<br />
misogynist attacks on the foulness of the painted woman. But they are now, commonly to<br />
hilarious effect. Honor Moore’s poem ‘M’ Mother’s Moustache (1988:67) gives a wry and<br />
detailed account of adolescence with and without depilatories. Karen Swenson tells of a<br />
bosom which never attains movie star amplitude, and hopes (with oral metaphors in the<br />
Spenser – Keats tradition) to find a man who will settle for dumplings at the feast of life.<br />
Kathleen Fraser writes A Poem in Which My Legs are Accepted (1993:89). The opening<br />
poem of Diane Wakoski’s Motorcycle Betrayal Poems (1971: 78) complains about ‘this<br />
ridiculous face/ of lemon rinds/ and vinegar cruets’. Grumbling with the voice of<br />
multitudes in Woman Poem (1973:69), Nikki Giovanni summarizes: ‘it’s a sex object if<br />
you’re pretty/ and no love and no sex if you’re fat’.<br />
Beauty, when a woman stops to think about it, mans bondage. In A Work of<br />
Artifice, Marge Piercy compares the feminine fate with that of a bonsai tree, artificially<br />
miniature.<br />
‘It is your nature/ to be small and cozy,/ domestic and weak;/how lucky little tree …/ within<br />
living creatures/ one must begin very early/ to dwarf their growth:/ the bound feet,/ the<br />
84
crippled bran,/ the hair in curlers,/ the hands you love to touch.’ (1973:153). Obviously, as<br />
a woman, there seems to be a continuous interest for keeping up with some beauty<br />
standards as early as the adolescence days. The feminine fate is compared to that of a<br />
bonsai tree the symbolism of which sends us to the idea of limitation: it is its (her) innate<br />
nature not to grow and say ‘dwarf, small and cozy’ all its (her) lifetime.<br />
In Pro Femina, Carolyn Kizer advertises women and forwards the idea that there<br />
are commercial-economic and emotional reasons that lead to a woman’s entrapment and<br />
psychological handicapping.<br />
‘Our masks, always in peril of smearing and cracking,/ In need of continuous check in<br />
the mirror or silverware,/Keep us in thrall to ourselves, concerned with our<br />
surfaces./…/ So sister, forget yourself a few times, and see where it gets you:/ Up the<br />
creek, alone with your talent, sans everything else./ You can wait for the menopause,<br />
and catch up with your reading.’(1980:42)<br />
The adaptation of advertising language in the opening lines grimly indicates that a<br />
woman’s face is not her own but someone else’s fortune. But what can she do? She needs<br />
to be loved. Further on Carolyn Kizer talks about women of letters and addresses the<br />
unique dilemma of the lady with the brains and ambition.<br />
Is our perpetual concern of always wearing masks and pretending to be something<br />
that we are not derived from our wrong ideas that we might not think ourselves worthy of a<br />
man’s love? Is this frailty ego, deception? Could this be a demystification of the woman? If<br />
beauty is just refraction, a distorted one, into the mirrors of our minds, why can’t we do<br />
away with the bondage we have crated? We should remember Luce Irigaray’s Speculum<br />
of the Other Woman (1985) where the mirror, used in its connotative meaning, is the<br />
instrument of penetration in gynecology, but it also triggers off the process of<br />
specularization – speculation (phalocentric thinking) and specularization – looking into a<br />
mirror, therefore a narcissistic act.<br />
While quizzical poems on the topic of beauty versus truth as applied to cosmetics<br />
will admittedly weigh lightly in most literary scales, they typically embody two interesting<br />
stylistic decisions. First, the poems are not openly autobiographical and factual, but antiliterary,<br />
even anti-aesthetic, in the sense that they refuse, rather than cultivate, formal<br />
distance.<br />
In the volume of women’s poetry Making the Park, Marina La Palma wrote<br />
Holding Fast, a poem on the woman-flower theme:<br />
‘In a shop there are dark red/ and purple flowers growing from a pot./ My fingers<br />
hesitate, then press against their/ folds – which yield only a little/ and give no sign<br />
that they’ve been touched/ “Like intestines” he woman says./ To me they are inside/<br />
vagina convoluted folds./ I hesitate before I say it/ thinking it might shock her/ obvious<br />
and careful point of view.’ (1981: 76)<br />
No persona, no gloss of verbal refinement intervenes between the poet and the<br />
sense of personal inadequacy, or between herself and her audience. There is no extension<br />
of personality here. As readers, we are asked to participate in the predicament of someone<br />
who wants to be beautiful while challenging, implicitly or explicitly, the standards or value<br />
of beauty for a woman, and who does not pretend to transcend the situation. It would be<br />
inappropriate to make the poem itself too beautiful.<br />
But the poem must be comic. Comedy enables writer and reader to agree that the<br />
predicament is, after all, innately absurd. Not a life-or-death matter, is it? Clowning shows<br />
that we have perspective. Or perhaps we laugh that we may not show the frown lines to the<br />
mirror? He rollicking meter and jaunty-to-blustery tone of Pro Femina, unlike Kizer’s<br />
more usual lyric style, serve the same function as a woman’s preening: they make a<br />
disguise for a naked emotion, as paint for a woman’s naked face.<br />
85
Possibly, the funniest, certainly the most outrageous poem of this subgenre is Erica<br />
Jong’s tour de force Aging, subtitled Balm for a 27 th Birthday. Jong at the outset presents<br />
herself as: ‘Hooked for two years now n wrinkle creams/ creams for crowsfeet ugly lines (if<br />
only they were one)/ any perfumed grease which promises youth beauty/ not truth but all I<br />
need on earth’ (1978: 67). She imagines through several lines the advancing track of the<br />
wrinkles as ‘ruin proceeds downwards’ and the face begins to resemble ‘the tragic mask’.<br />
Her tone grows increasingly nervous, but the poem is undergoing a transformation of its<br />
own, from self- mocking panic to self-loving acceptance. Though ‘the neck will give you<br />
away’ and the chin in spite of face-lifts ‘will never love your bones as it once did’, ‘the<br />
belly may be kept firm through numerous pregnancies/ by means of sit-ups jogging<br />
dancing (think of Russian/ ballerinas) and the cunt/ as far as I know is ageless possibly<br />
immortal becoming simply/ more open and more quick to understand more dry-eyed than<br />
at 22/ which/ after all is all that you were dying for…’(67).<br />
If a woman is naturally narcissistic, she might as well go the whole hog. Beauty is,<br />
Jong reminds us, as beauty does. Incidental amusements like the play on lines and plotting<br />
in a woman’s face or her writing (both of which show promise of deepening) occupy the<br />
reader through the first part of the poem. The four-letter term at the poem’s crux has been<br />
cunningly prepared for by suggestions that decline in on aspect may bring ascendance in<br />
another. The close grace<strong>full</strong>y offers the pun on ‘what you were dying for’ and concludes<br />
with a deft inversion of a centuries-old poetic convention. Time, the enemy of love in lyric<br />
poetry since the Greek Anthologia, has become sequence of lovers-blundering, presumably<br />
young and inexperienced lovers at that – to whom a woman, ripe with herself, can<br />
condescend.<br />
Jong writes less success<strong>full</strong>y when she attempts to make narcissism look sublime<br />
rather than ridiculous, and poems of self examination in this surface sense do not easily<br />
survive the comic mode. Because humor can effectively spotlight problems and conflicts<br />
which are naggingly real and ostensibly trivial, the comic-autobiographical mode has<br />
become a major opinion in women’s writing.<br />
Female body symbolism<br />
When women write to praise the body rather than attack or joke about it, their most<br />
significant technique is symbolism. Water, moon, earth and living things, the natural as<br />
opposed to the artificial, provide the strongest sources or imagery for women poets<br />
engaged in commending the basic physical self, just as they always have for men<br />
describing women.<br />
Nevertheless, there are differences. The identification of woman with flowers, for<br />
example, is as least as old as the Le Roman de la Rose. Elizabethan poets agreed that<br />
‘Beauty is but a flower/ Which wrinkles with devour’. Keats urged the melancholic lover to<br />
glut his sorrow on a rose, a wealth of globed peonies, or his mistress’s peerless eyes, all of<br />
which with beauty that must die. Poets have seen both woman and flower from without,<br />
whether in erotic poetry, poetry of witty seduction, or poetry of reflection on the transience<br />
and mutability of life. But, when Diane Wakoski compares an armful of roses first with<br />
skin and then with internal organs the, focus changes.<br />
‘The <strong>full</strong> roses with all their petals like the wrinkles of laughter/ on your face as you<br />
bend to kiss someone/ are bursting on the bush,/ spotting my arm, as I carry a bundle<br />
of them,/ to my friends;/ they seem to have come out of my skin/ on this fragrant night,/<br />
and I imagine the inside of my body/ glowing, phosphorescent, with strange flower<br />
faces/ looking out from the duodenum/ or the soft liver,/ white as my belly, the eyes are<br />
86
always disbelieving/ the ugly processes that make a living body.’ (In Gratitude to<br />
Beethoven, 1968: 54)<br />
In their particularized detail-color, <strong>text</strong>ure as well as dramatic quality, these flowers<br />
resemble Plath’s poppies and tulips. One experiences not beauty but an overwhelming<br />
vividness, energy and terror in the sense of self as living organism. The rapid and radical<br />
alterations of focus in Wakoski’s lines blur spatial distinctions between night and roses,<br />
ace, arm and the inside of the body, until everything seems equally bursting, hot, fragrant<br />
and in flux. The extreme vitality of flowers and body approaches the obscene, as in Plath it<br />
approaches the predatory. Though wrinkled, there is nothing frail or weak in the blossoms<br />
of either poet.<br />
The personalism and particularism of women writers can provoke both disapproval<br />
and approval given that, on the one hand, the female tendency to define the self in terms of<br />
relationships with others is a defect, and on the other, a virtue, since relationship,<br />
communication and identification are primary devices for women writers. Again, when<br />
Adrienne Rich writes of dividing into the wreck, or Sharon Barba of entering ‘that dark<br />
watery place’, both poets accept a woman-water identification held in common with<br />
Shakespeare’s Cleopatra, identified with the fertile and capricious Nile, or with Milton’s<br />
Eve – whose first act in Paradise Lost is to kneel and behold her own image in water,<br />
where Adam at the moment of his creation sprang upright and looked at the sky. One also<br />
recalls the sea-mother in Whitman’s Out of the Cradle, and the Mermaids of Prufrock’s<br />
plunge into memory, into fantasy, into that brief moment of womblike ease before he<br />
wakes and chokes on mortal air. Throughout western tradition, descent into waters<br />
signifies danger or death, consistently associated with the feminine.<br />
Women who make the same plunge also evoke the dangerous and the unknown, but<br />
they tend to evoke at the same time a sense of trust. The destructive element is their<br />
element. It is alien, and yet it is home, where one will not be hurt. Rich notes that<br />
relaxation rather than force is required to maneuver here, and she is confident of finding<br />
treasure as well as devastation. At the deepest point in the poem she becomes her deepest<br />
self, the androgyne: ‘I am she … I am he’. Barba anticipates, from these waves, the birth of<br />
a new Venus, closer to nature than Boticelli’s.<br />
Still again, if our most celebrated and compendious symbol for woman is earth,<br />
adored as mother, revered as virgin, earth is of course other than the celebrant; she is<br />
always the principle of passive material life divided from the mental or spiritual and she is<br />
always subject to conquest. Women who identify with earth, however, include Margaret<br />
Atwood who in her Circe/ Mud Poems (1973) taunts Odysseus: ‘Don’t you get tired of<br />
saying Onward?’ and Yosana Akiko who in Mountain Moving Day (1983) makes the<br />
mountain a symbol both of women’s bodies and of their awakening consciousness. The<br />
idea of a consciousness invisible from the earthy body appears in Anne Sexton’s notorious<br />
In Celebration of my Uterus, written on the occasion of a medical reprieve which has<br />
defied rational diagnosis. Sexton’s opening is euphoric, buoyant, and hyperbolic.<br />
‘They wanted to cut you out/ but they will not…/They said you were sick onto dying./ but<br />
they were wrong./ You are singing like a schoolgirl’ (1989:68).<br />
The poem’s central portion compares the uterus with ‘soil of the fields … roots’ and the<br />
poet announces, in an engaging combination of insouciant self-confidence and generosity:<br />
‘Each cell has a life./ There is enough her to feed a nation’(68).<br />
The abundance and fertility of the poet’s imagination in inventing her group of<br />
women of all types, from all religions of the globe, must be understood as a parallel to, or<br />
an extension of, her uterine health. Moreover, this chorale of far-flung women cannot be<br />
87
perceived from without, precisely as the continued vitality and fertility of the womb has<br />
evaded external discernment:<br />
‘Many women are singing together of this:/ one is in a shoe factory cursing<br />
the machine, /…/ one is tying the cord of a calf in Arizona,/one is straddling a cello in<br />
Russia,/ one is shifting pots on the stove in Egypt,/ …/ one is staring out the window of<br />
a train/ …/ anywhere and some everywhere and all/ seem to be singing although some<br />
cannot/ sing a note.’(68)<br />
As matter, so spirit. Both, according to this poem, lie within, in the realm of the<br />
immanent rather than the transcendent. The function of spirit is to celebrate matter, not to<br />
subdue or escape it, and women become mutually connected beings by the participation of<br />
spirit in the principle of flesh they commonly share. (Sherry Ortner, Is Female to Male as<br />
Nature is to Culture? 1974: 98)<br />
Sexton has used a conventional fertility-and-harvest symbolism to lure us into a set<br />
of convictions – here presented as perceptions – entirely opposed to those of the vertical<br />
standard.<br />
For a woman, perhaps the most decisively difficult act is to think of herself as<br />
powerful, or as more powerful than a man, and capable of influencing the outward world<br />
without sacrificing femaleness.<br />
One poet who has asserted hat female biology equals power, and has found a set of<br />
symbols to state is nature, is Robin Morgan. In the series of poems entitled The Network<br />
of the Imaginary Mother (1977), Morgan describes a conversion from flesh-loathing to<br />
flesh-affirmation while nursing her dying mother, and defines her biological capacities in<br />
terms of goddess-figures – Kali, Isis, African and Pre-Columbian madonnas – representing<br />
a triumphant will to love and nurture. Her husband in this poem is Osiris, a consort and her<br />
son teaches the simple secret of delight. For Morgan is not the god-man of the Gospels, but<br />
a nursing woman who says to her own son, and by extension, all children, envisioning a<br />
world un-threatened by violence and famine: ‘Take. Eat. This is my body,/ this real milk,<br />
thin, sweet, bluish,/ which I give for the life of the world …/ as honest nourishment/ alone<br />
able to sustain you.’ (Lady of the Beasts, 1977:82)<br />
Biological facts and spiritual interpretation here become indistinguishable. He<br />
poet’s fantasy of a maternal politics would eliminate the burden of conflict between<br />
humanity and nature, between individual and species, between woman’s body and social<br />
change.<br />
Self as world<br />
Poets have perennially occupied themselves with discovering analogies between the<br />
macrocosm of the world and the microcosm of the self. For many women poets at present,<br />
the microcosm means, emphatically, a physical self from which it is neither possible nor<br />
desirable to divide mental or emotional existence.<br />
A particular endeavor of twentieth-century thought has involved a questioning of<br />
distinctions between private and public life, in order to understand how each influences<br />
and reflects the other. Here too, women poets seem inclined to insist that we begin with the<br />
body to understand the body politic. None of these poets seems disposed to celebrate a<br />
world of transcendent public action at the cost of minimizing the physical self. For some,<br />
the dominant experience of life in the flesh is suffering. One can scarcely deny the public<br />
validity of such an apprehension in the light of history. For other writers, the relation<br />
between private and public means a conflict between what used to be called appearance<br />
and reality. To cosmetize or not to cosmetize? This is a battle fought on the fields of the<br />
skin, as well as on more dignified terrain. For still others, the body is felt as strength, a<br />
88
kind of connective tissue uniting human beings at a level beneath the particularities of<br />
individual ego or circumstance, a set of capacities both socially and personally valuable.<br />
Compared with the variety and richness of works by omen in this area, the works of<br />
most male poets in the 1970’s appears inhibited and unoriginal. If we may say that women<br />
have contrived to make a continental landscape out of the secret gardens to which they<br />
have been force<strong>full</strong>y confined, we may say by the same token that men have endued a<br />
certain self-imposed exile.<br />
Distance remains a virtue in the male poetic establishment, almost like a corollary<br />
of the training which defines the masculine body exclusively as tool or weapon, forbids it<br />
to acknowledge weakness or pain, and deprives in accordingly of much potential<br />
sensitivity to pleasure – a sensuous man is an effeminate man – apart from the pleasures<br />
associated with combat or conquest. The discourse of male bonding may derive from big<br />
and little, game hunting and the tennis court, or from allusions to the responses of women<br />
in bed. These are the safe, sane, blush proof topics.<br />
Men also look in mirrors, experience troublesome and delicious sensations<br />
contribute to the generation of species and ride throughout life the tide of emotions<br />
influenced by glandular secretions. They too get ill, grow old and withered, and are, in<br />
sum, precisely as rooted in nature as women. Will they in due time acknowledge this<br />
condition? Will women begin comparing the bodies of men to flowers?<br />
Confronting old age, Yeats divided himself into two beings: a old man craving fiery<br />
purification from the flesh and an old woman – Crazy Jane – raucously declaring her<br />
satisfaction with it. One must assume that the discoveries women poets are making about<br />
bodily experience, and the verbal tactics employed to name their discoveries, will enter<br />
common usage and become readily available to men as well as women. Crazy Jane stands<br />
at the foot of the tower, inviting the man to come down.<br />
References<br />
Akiko, Y. (1983), Mountain Moving Day in Gill E. (Ed.), Mountain Moving Day: Poems by Women,<br />
Trumansburg & New York;<br />
Atwood, M. (1973), Circe/ Mud Poems in Barbara, S. & Rainey C. (Eds.), Psyche. The Feminine Poetic<br />
Consciousness. An Anthology of Modern American Women Poets, Dell Publishing, USA;<br />
Barba, S. (Ed.), (1983), A Cycle of Women in Rising Tides: 20 th Century American Women Poets, Random<br />
House, New York;<br />
Barbara, S. & Rainey C. (Eds.) (1973), Psyche. The Feminine Poetic Consciousness. An Anthology of<br />
Modern American Women Poets, Dell Publishing, USA;<br />
De Beauvoir, S. (1972), The Second Sex, H. M. Parshley (Trans.), Penguin Books, London & New York;<br />
Fraser, K. (1993), A Poem in which my Legs are Accepted in DiYanni R. & Rompf, K. The McGraw-Hill<br />
Book of Poetry, The McGraw-Hill Companies, New York;<br />
Giovanni, N. (1973), Woman Poem in Black Feeling, Black Talk, Black Judgment, Pocket Books, New York;<br />
Irigaray, L. (1985), Speculum of the Other Woman, Gillian C. G. (Trans.), Cornell University Press, New<br />
York;<br />
Jong, E. (1978), Aging. Balm for a 27 th Birthday in Fruits and Vegetables, The Holt, Rinehart and Winston<br />
Publishing House, New York;<br />
Kizer, C. (1980), Pro Femina in Knock Upon Silence, Random House, New York;<br />
La Palma, M. (1981), Holding Fast in Making the Park, University of California Press, Berkeley;<br />
Lavers, A. (1970), The World as Icon: on Sylvia Plath’s Themes in Charles Newman (Ed.), The Art of<br />
Sylvia Plath, Indiana University Press, Bloomington;<br />
Morgan, R. (1977), Lady of the Beasts in The Network of the Imaginary Mother, Random House, New York;<br />
Moore, H. (1988), Mother’s Moustache in Memoir: Poems, Chicory Blue Press, Connecticut, US<br />
Ortner, S. (1974), Is Female to Male as Nature is to Culture? in Michelle Zimbalist Rosaldo & Louise<br />
Lamphere (Eds.), Women, Culture and Society, Stanford University Press, California;<br />
Piercy, M. (1973), The Friend in Barbara, S. & Rainey C. (Eds.), Psyche. The Feminine Poetic<br />
Consciousness. An Anthology of Modern American Women Poets, Dell Publishing, USA;<br />
*** (1973), A Work of Artifice in Barbara, S. & Rainey C. (Eds.), Psyche. The Feminine Poetic<br />
Consciousness. An Anthology of Modern American Women Poets, Dell Publishing, USA;<br />
89
Plath, S. (1973), Ariel in Barbara, S. & Rainey C. (Eds.), Psyche. The Feminine Poetic Consciousness. An<br />
Anthology of Modern American Women Poets, Dell Publishing, USA;<br />
***(1973), Cut in Barbara, S. & Rainey C. (Eds.), Psyche. The Feminine Poetic Consciousness. An<br />
Anthology of Modern American Women Poets, Dell Publishing, USA;<br />
***(1973), Daddy in Barbara, S. & Rainey C. (Eds.), Psyche. The Feminine Poetic Consciousness. An<br />
Anthology of Modern American Women Poets, Dell Publishing, USA;<br />
***(1973), Fever 103 in Barbara, S. & Rainey C. (Eds.), Psyche. The Feminine Poetic Consciousness. An<br />
Anthology of Modern American Women Poets, Dell Publishing, USA;<br />
*** (1973), Getting There in Barbara, S. & Rainey C. (Eds.), Psyche. The Feminine Poetic Consciousness.<br />
An Anthology of Modern American Women Poets, Dell Publishing, USA;<br />
***(1973), Hiroshima Ash in Barbara, S. & Rainey C. (Eds.), Psyche. The Feminine Poetic Consciousness.<br />
An Anthology of Modern American Women Poets, Dell Publishing, USA;<br />
***(1973), Lady Lazarus in Barbara, S. & Rainey C. (Eds.), Psyche. The Feminine Poetic Consciousness. An<br />
Anthology of Modern American Women Poets, Dell Publishing, USA;<br />
***(1973), Medusa in Barbara, S. & Rainey C. (Eds.), Psyche. The Feminine Poetic Consciousness. An<br />
Anthology of Modern American Women Poets, Dell Publishing, USA;<br />
*** (1973), The Applicant in Barbara, S. & Rainey C. (Eds.), Psyche. The Feminine Poetic Consciousness.<br />
An Anthology of Modern American Women Poets, Dell Publishing, USA;<br />
***(1973), The Disquieting Muse in Barbara, S. & Rainey C. (Eds.), Psyche. The Feminine Poetic<br />
Consciousness. An Anthology of Modern American Women Poets, Dell Publishing, USA;<br />
Rich, A. (1975), Women in Poems Selected and New, Norton & Company, New York;<br />
Sexton, A. (1973), Little Girl, My String Bean, My Lovely Woman in Barbara, S. & Rainey C. (Eds.), Psyche.<br />
The Feminine Poetic Consciousness. An Anthology of Modern American Women Poets, Dell<br />
Publishing, USA;<br />
***(1989), In Celebration of My Uterus in Love Poems, Mariner Books, New York;<br />
Suckenick , L. (1975), The Poster in Laura Chester and Sharon Barba (Eds.), Rising Tides: 20 th Century<br />
American Women Poets, Random House, New York;<br />
Swenson, M. (1978), Bleeding in Things Taking Place: Poems Selected and New, Little Brown & Co.,<br />
Boston;<br />
Wakoski, D. (1971), I Have Had to Learn to Live with My Face, in The Motorcycle Betrayal Poems,<br />
Touchstone, New York;<br />
*** (1968), In Gratitude to Beethoven in Inside the Blood Factory, Garden City: Doubleday, New York;<br />
Yeats, W.B. (1983), Adam’s Curse in Finneran R.J. (Ed.), The Collected Poems of W. B. Yeats, Oxford<br />
University Press, London.<br />
Abstract<br />
The present paper aims at examining three sorts of representative attitudes discernable in women<br />
poets who explore female bodily experience associated with three sorts of verbal strategies.<br />
Résumé<br />
Cet article essai d’examiner trois catégories représentatives qui peuvent être identifiées dans la<br />
poèsie des poétesses qui explorent l’expérience sensorielle du corps en l’associant aux trois<br />
catégories de stratégies verbales.<br />
Rezumat<br />
Lucrarea de faţă îşi propune spre analiză trei tipuri de atitudini reprezentative ce pot fi<br />
identificate în poezia scrisă de poetese care explorează experienţa corpului feminin asociindu-i<br />
trei tipuri de strategii verbale.<br />
90
Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of GALAŢI<br />
Fascicle XIII. New Series.<br />
Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006<br />
pp. 91- 98<br />
91<br />
Language<br />
and<br />
Literature<br />
UTRAQUE LINGUA – BILINGVISMUL GRECO-LATIN ŞI IMPLICAŢIILE<br />
SALE<br />
Mihaela Paraschiv<br />
Expresia utraque lingua, cu sensul "ambele limbi", apare şi în variantele sinonimice<br />
utraque oratio, uterque sermo la autorii latini care recomandă sau elogiază exprimarea<br />
curentă în limbile greacă veche şi latină, indispensabilă formării omului cult. În<br />
introducerea tratatului De officiis, dedicat fiului său Marcus, Cicero îl îndeamnă să-i imite<br />
exemplul pentru a deveni la fel de capabil să se exprime în ambele limbi: ut ipse ad meam<br />
utilitatem semper cum Graecis Latina coniunxi, idem tibi censeo faciendum, ut par sis in<br />
utriusque orationis facultate (aşa cum eu însumi am îmbinat mereu cele latine cu cele<br />
greceşti) la fel cred că trebuie să faci şi tu pentru a deveni deopotrivă de abil în exprimarea<br />
în cele două limbi).[1] Tot Cicero recomanda oratorului să vorbească sau să scrie în care<br />
dintre cele două limbi ar voi: aut dicat aut scribat utra voles lingua.[2] Într-o odă dedicată<br />
lui Maecenas [3], Horatius i se adresează cu apelativul docte sermones utriusque linguae<br />
(iscusitule în literaturile celor două limbi), iar între sfaturile înţelepte adresate tinerilor de<br />
Ovidius în Ars amatoria figura şi acesta: Impodobeşte-ţi mintea cu artele frumoase,/ Învaţă<br />
şi latina şi graiul lui Homer.[4]<br />
Pedagogul Quintilianus recomanda învăţarea paralelă în şcoală a celor două limbi;<br />
e bine să se înceapă cu greaca, opina el, dar imediat şi apoi paralel trebuie să urmeze latina,<br />
pentru ca nici una să nu-i dăuneze celeilalte "atunci când vom începe să ne preocupăm cu<br />
aceeaşi grijă de ambele limbi" (cum aequali cura linguam utramque tueri coeperimus) [5]<br />
Recomandarea sa vizează tendinţa devenită curentă în rândul pedagogilor (în majoritate de<br />
origine greacă) de a-i învăţa pe copii să vorbească doar greceşte: N-aş vrea totuşi să se<br />
procedeze atât de pedant, încât să vorbească sau să înveţe multă vreme doar<br />
greceşte, aşa cum obişnuiesc cei mai mulţi.[6]<br />
De la istoricul Suetonius aflăm că în primele şcoli înfiinţate la Roma, pedagogi<br />
precum Livius Andronicus şi Ennius (unul grec din Tarent, celălalt bun cunoscător al<br />
limbii greceşti), îi instruiau pe copii în utraque lingua, înlesnind de timpuriu (sec.III a.C.)<br />
formarea unor generaţii bilingve.<br />
O preocupare de seamă a filologilor clasicişti a fost stabilirea unui terminus a quo<br />
al bilingvismului latino-grec. A.Meillet, studiind lexicul comediilor plautine, crede că în<br />
secolul al III-lea a.C., publicul lui Plautus din păturile inferioare ale societăţii romane era<br />
capabil să înţeleagă numeroasele grecisme din comediile acestuia, întrucât cunoştea limba<br />
greacă.[7] Şi în opinia lui Johannes Kramer, prezenţa exclamaţiilor, a adverbelor şi<br />
imprecaţiilor de origine greacă în comediile plautine este un detaliu semnificativ pentru<br />
măsura în care circula vocabularul grec în păturile inferioare; acest bilingvism popular se<br />
va regăsi în romanul lui Petronius, fapt care demonstrează, crede Kramer, că, la fel ca<br />
Roma, şi Italia meridională a fost bilingvă.[8]
P.Boyancé contestă această interpretare, opinând că numai începând cu secolul al<br />
II-lea a.C. şi numai în mediile culte se poate vorbi de bilingvism; el remarca însă faptul că<br />
magistraţii romani bilingvi selectau cu multă atenţie circumstanţele în care îşi permiteau să<br />
vorbească în limba greacă, pentru a nu-ţi submina prestigiul de reprezentanţi oficiali ai<br />
poprului roman învingător.[9] Şi Pierre Grimal e de părere că doar din secolul al II-lea a.C.<br />
gândirea şi limbile celor două naţii, greacă şi romană, au trăit într-o simbioză aproape<br />
totală, deoarece, prin educaţie, tinerii romani, mai ales din păturile superioare, ajung a<br />
poseda cele două limbi de cultură şi, implicit, o dublă formaţie spirituală.[10] Tot în<br />
mediile aristocrate e de părere şi J.Marouzeau că a început a fi cunoscută şi vorbită la<br />
Roma limba greacă, dar cu mult înainte de secolul II a.C.; unul dintre argumentele sale<br />
sunt acele cognomina Graeca pe care le-au primit aristocraţii elenofili încă din secolul IV<br />
a.C., precum consulul Paulus Sempronius care a fost numit în 304 a.C. Sophus. [11]<br />
În propagarea elenismului în mediul roman un aport precumpănitor l-a avut Cercul<br />
Scipionilor, întemeiat de Publius Cornelius Scipio Aemilianus în secolul II a.C.; despre<br />
membrii acestui cerc cultural elenofil, Cicero spunea cu admiraţie: Această cetate <br />
nu a dat oameni mai renumiţi prin glorie şi mai desăvârşiţi prin cultură, decât P.<br />
Africanus, C.Laelius, L.Furius, care nu s-au ferit să aibă mereu în anturajul lor pe cei mai<br />
învăţaţi oameni din Grecia.[12] Informaţia lui Cicero "nu s-au ferit să aibă" (palam<br />
habuerunt), alude, desigur, la opozanţii facţiunii filoelene romane conduse de Scipioni,<br />
între care cel mai vehement a fost Cato Maior. În calitate de censor acesta a avut două<br />
iniţiative xenofobe, motivate, în opinia sa, de necesitatea imperioasă de a îndepărta<br />
influenţa nefastă a grecilor, care, spunea el indignat chiar şi pe noi, romanii, ne numesc<br />
barbari [13]: în 173 a.C. au fost alungaţi din Roma filosofii şi retorii greci, iar în 155 a.C.<br />
este expulzată delegaţia ateniană condusă de filosofii Carneades, Critolaos şi Diogenes.<br />
P.Grimal crede că totuşi Cato nu ar fi refuzat sistematic tot ceea ce era grecesc, mai ales<br />
dacă provenea din tradiţia atică şi că ar fi învăţat limba greacă nu la bătrâneţe, cum se<br />
spune, ci în tinereţe, în timpul campaniilor militare din Graecia Magna. [14]<br />
În pofida unor atitudini ostentativ naţionaliste, precum cea a lui Cato Maior,<br />
bilingvismul se va încetăţeni la Roma, în rândul reprezentanţilor clasei superioare, fapt<br />
atestat de mărturiile autorilor: Cicero îl numea pe epicureicul roman Titus Albucius, plane<br />
Graecus (grec sadea) [15]; despre Titus Pomponius Atticus, prietenul lui Cicero, Cornelius<br />
Nepos afirma că "aşa vorbea greceşte, încât părea că s-a născut la Atena" (sic<br />
enim Graece loquebatur, ut Athenis natus videretur) [16]; după informaţia lui Quintilianus,<br />
omul politic roman Licinius Crassus cunoştea bine cinci dialecte greceşti, astfel că, în<br />
calitate de guvernator în Asia, era capabil să dea o sentinţă în oricare dialect ar fi cerut<br />
cineva să i se facă dreptate. [17] Măsura cunoşterii limbii greceşti de către Cicero poate fi<br />
dedusă mai ales din corespondenţa sa, presărată cu numeroase expresii, versuri, proverbe<br />
de origine greacă; totuşi, observă pe bună dreptate Marouzeau, Cicero nu recurge la<br />
elenisme decât în corespondenţa cu prietenii mai apropiaţi, dintr-o anume cochetărie<br />
(lascivia), specifică stilului familiar. [18] Aceasta, întrucât, cu toată admiraţia sa pentru<br />
limba şi cultura greacă, Cicero consideră ca pe o datorie civică folosirea limbii materne şi i<br />
se pare ridicol abuzul de elenisme în vorbire: sermone eo debemus uti, qui innatus est<br />
nobis, ne ut quidem Graeca verba inculcantes, iure optimo rideamur (se cuvine să ne<br />
folosim de limba care ne-a fost dată prin naştere, ca să nu ne facem, pe bună dreptate, de<br />
râs, precum cei care intercalează cuvinte greceşti).[19] Totuşi, Cicero, la fel<br />
ca alţi autori latini, în pofida naţionalismului lingvistic profesat oficial, şi-a scris unele<br />
lucrări în limba greacă; el îl informează pe Atticus că şi-a redactat în greacă memoriile<br />
despre consulatul său, pe care le-a trimis spre lectură filosofului grec Poseidonios şi că<br />
acesta a fost uimit de expresia lui curgătoare şi limpede, cu nimic mai prejos de cea a unui<br />
grec: Poseidonios mi-a scris, nu de mult, că citind acele memorii, nu numai că n-a fost<br />
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îndemnat să mai scrie, ci a fost descurajat de-a binelea. Ce vrei? Am speriat tot neamul<br />
grecesc. [20]<br />
În ce priveşte opţiunea romanilor bilingvi de a se exprima ocazional în greacă, mai<br />
ales în scrisori şi în conversaţiile intime, Pabón e de părere că ea sugerează un ton de<br />
încredere, de familiaritate, o anume intimitate cu destinatarul. Un caz mult discutat de<br />
istorici şi filologi au fost vorbele adresate înainte de moarte de Caesar lui Brutus, rostite în<br />
limba greacă, spune Suetonius: tradiderunt quidam Marco Bruto irruenti dixisse Caesarem<br />
Kαι σύ, τέκνον. (Unii au transmis că Caesar i-a spus lui Marcus Brutus când se<br />
năpustea asupra lui: şi tu, fiule?) [21] Explicaţia dată de R.Flacelière acestui fapt este<br />
destul de anostă: "mulţi romani cultivaţi se exprimau spontan în greacă, mai ales pentru că<br />
preferau să fie înţeleşi de cei din jur." [22] Într-un articol dedicat acestei celebre replici,<br />
M. Dubuisson afirmă că prima limbă însuşită, numită în mod curent maternă, lasă o<br />
amprentă de neşters în subconştientul vorbitorului bilingv, ea rămânând limba viselor, a<br />
exclamaţiilor instinctive, a cuvintelor pronunţate într-un stadiu incitativ de mânie, delir,<br />
spaimă, nelinişte. Or, aşa cum ne informează Quintilianus, greaca reprezenta pentru tinerii<br />
romani din elita societăţii, dacă nu limba maternă propriu-zisă, cel puţin cea dintâi limbă<br />
învăţată. Explicaţia lui Dubuisson privind opţiunea romanilor pentru greacă ca limbă a<br />
intimităţii este susţinută ţi de observaţiile ironice ale satiricului Iuvenalis referitoare la<br />
tentaţia femeilor de neam italic din Roma, de a o face pe grecoaicele în conversaţiile lor<br />
intime: ştiu femei care cu toate că-n Toscana sunt născute,/ Socotesc că-s mai distinse<br />
dându-se din neam elin./ Şi pretind că-s din Atena, când de la Sulmona vin./ Toate-s după<br />
moda greacă şi nici una nu roşeşte/ că nu ştie cum se cade să vorbească latineşte./<br />
Tăinuiesc, glumesc, se ceartă pe greceşte: limba lor! Pe greceşte le e frică, pe greceşte fac<br />
amor.[23]<br />
Despre Octavianus Augustus, Suetonius ne informează că iubea literatura greacă,<br />
că primise o bună educaţie retorică şi filosofică de la dascălii săi greci, dar că nu vorbea cu<br />
uşurinţă limba greacă (Augustus, 89).<br />
În vremea imperiului, folosirea limbii greceşti cunoaşte o vogă nemaiîntâlnită până<br />
atunci la Roma, oraş care devenise, spune Iuvenalis o urbs quasi Graeca; în consecinţă, se<br />
va recurge uneori la o intervenţie oficială pentru a impune o anumită decenţă în uzul<br />
grecismelor. Suetonius relatează că împăratul Tiberius, deşi era un abil vorbitor de limbă<br />
greacă, a cerut excluderea cuvintelor greceşti din decretele senatoriale, acceptând doar în<br />
cazuri de strictă necesitate un împrumut lexical sau semantic; el însuşi a cerut în prealabil<br />
scuze senatului atunci când a fost constrâns de lipsa unor echivalente latine să folosească<br />
într-un discurs cuvintele greceşti monopolium şi emblema (Tiberius, 71). Acelaşi istoric ne<br />
informează însă că alţi împăraţi nu s-au sfiit să-şi etaleze public bilingvismul. Împăratul<br />
Claudius recunoştea în orice împrejurare frumuseţea limbii greceşti, pe care o considera<br />
limba naţională a romanilor, lăudându-l pe un sol străin că vorbea curent "ambele noastre<br />
limbi" (uterque sermo noster – Claudius, 42); el a scris în limba greacă 20 de cărţi despre<br />
etrusci şi 8 despre cartaginezi. Şi despre Nero Suetonius spune că la o vârstă foarte tânără<br />
pleda la procese atât în latină cât şi în greacă (Nero, 7).<br />
În studiile moderne consacrate implicaţiilor bilingvismului latino-grec [24], se face<br />
apel la conceptele de contact şi de interferenţă; primul se referă la con<strong>text</strong>ul spaţial şi<br />
temporal al utilizării celor două limbi, al doilea vizează consecinţele fenomenului istoric al<br />
contactului asupra evoluţiei lor. În legătură cu începuturile contactului latino-grec, părerile<br />
lingviştilor sunt diferite: E.Peruzzi e de părere că primele contacte între greci şi latini ar<br />
data din epoca talasocraţiei miceniene (mileniul al II-lea a.C.) [25]; F.Biville [26] acceptă<br />
în principiu această teorie care urcă mult în timp preistoria contactului latino-grec, faţă de<br />
cronologia acestuia propusă de G.Devoto (secolul al VIII-lea a.C.). [27] În cele ce urmează<br />
93
vom pune pe scurt în discuţie principalele aspecte ale interferenţei, ocazionate de<br />
bilingvismul latino-grec, preluând reperele taxinomice ale lui Fr.Biville.<br />
A. Interferenţa prin relaţionare comportă două variante principale: <strong>text</strong>uală şi<br />
metalingvistică.<br />
a. Intereferenţa <strong>text</strong>uală este reprezentată de <strong>text</strong>e bilingve în care cele două limbi coexistă<br />
independent; noţiunea însăşi de <strong>text</strong> biling acoperă, în fapt, realităţi diferite: 1) <strong>text</strong>e<br />
bilingve propriu-zise constând în acelaşi <strong>text</strong> scris în ambele limbi, precum Res gestae divi<br />
Augusti; 2) glosare bilingve care pun în relaţie cuvinte sau fraze tip, un precedent antic al<br />
ghidurilor de conversaţie; 3) înserarea unor cuvinte şi expresii greceşti în <strong>text</strong>ele latine,<br />
frecventă, cum am menţionat, în corespondenţa lui Cicero.<br />
b. Interferenţa metalingvistică constă în conştientizarea asemănărilor şi deosebirilor dintre<br />
cele două limbi, a limitelor şi lipsurilor sistemului lingvistic latin comparativ cu cel grec.<br />
Lucretius era nemulţumit de "sărăcia limbii strămoşeşti" (patrii sermonis egestas – De<br />
rerum natura, I, 139), care făcea imposibilă exprimarea unor concepte filosofice greceşti;<br />
şi Seneca recunoştea imposibilitatea de a echivala în latină un concept fundamental<br />
exprimat prin grecescul ουσία (ουσία nullo modo Latine exprimare possim – Epistulae ad<br />
Lucilium, 56, 6), cu toate că Cicero propusese calcul essentia.<br />
Ia naştere în urma acestor reflecţii lingvistice precedentul antic al lingvisticii<br />
contrastive, care pune în lumină specificul structural al fiecărei limbi; iată în această<br />
privinţă câteva opinii ale lui Quintilianus [28], edificatoare pentru conştientizarea<br />
diferenţelor frapante între latină şi greacă de către un roman perfect bilingv: "chiar în<br />
privinţa sunetelor limba latină este mai dură, deoarece nouă ne lipsesc cele mai<br />
armonioase litere greceşti, anume o vocală şi o consoană care au cea mai plăcută<br />
sonoritate din alfabetul lor [literele υ şi φ- n.n.]; dar şi accentul nostru atât din cauza<br />
unei anumite rigidităţi, cât şi pentru monotonia lui, este mai puţin plăcut; inferioritatea<br />
limbii noastre se remarcă mai ales prin faptul că foarte multe idei nu au în limba noastră<br />
termeni proprii, încât trebuie să recurgem la metafore şi perifraze. Observaţiile lui<br />
Quintilianus sunt obiective dar nu pesimiste, căci el îşi invită semenii la o adevărată<br />
emulaţie expresivă cu grecii: Nu putem fi atât de delicaţi ca ei; să fim mai viguroşi!<br />
Suntem învinşi în fineţe, să fim mai tari prin gravitate!<br />
B. Interferenţa prin transfer comportă şi ea două importante aspecte:<br />
a. Aportul masiv de elemente aloglote de origine greacă la toate nivelele limbii<br />
latine, cel lexical fiind cel mai privilegiat: se împrumută lexeme care servesc la denotarea<br />
unor concepte şi realităţi străine , fapt mai evident în limbajele specializate şi în limba<br />
populară.[29]<br />
Cele mai vechi elenisme în limba latină datează din epoca preliterară şi, în privinţa<br />
lor, trebuie făcută diferenţa între împrumuturile indirecte şi cele directe: primele au avut<br />
loc în secolul al V-lea prin intermediar etrsuc, comportând trăsături ale limbii etrusce,<br />
precum înlocuirea consoanelor sonore prin surde (θρίαμβος > triumpus; αμόργη<br />
>amurca); [30] împrumuturile directe provin mai ales din coloniile doriene sud-italice din<br />
Graecia Magna şi asupra lor şi-au pus amprenta unele trăsături ale latinei arhaice, precum<br />
apofonia vocalei în silabă post-tonică (μαχανά > machina; καμάρα > camera).<br />
Apariţia primelor opere literare latine, create după model grec, a ocazionat un nou<br />
aport de elenisme care vor suferi o adaptare fonomorfologică în limba latină şi, pentru a le<br />
putea transcrie, apar grafemele y,z şi diagrafele ch, ph, rh, th. O reacţie puristă,<br />
naţionalistă, se va manifesta însă la Roma începând cu sfârşitul secolului al II-lea a.C.,<br />
explicabilă şi prin motive de ordin psihologic: mândria naţională îi oprea pe romani să<br />
imite limba grecilor învinşi (în 146 a.C. Grecia devenise provincie romană); prestigiul<br />
limbii greceşti era diminuat şi de faptul că la Roma, mulţi sclavi elenofoni, prizonieri de<br />
război, exercitau profesiuni prea puţin nobile. Nu se mai doreşte împrumutarea directă a<br />
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cuvintelor greceşti ci echivalarea lor prin crearea unor calcuri lexicale şi semantice. Cicero<br />
este în secolul I a.C. reprezentantul cel mai de seamă al acestei tendinţe şi lui i se datorează<br />
acele calcuri care s-au impus în limba latină precum qualitas pentru ποιότης, humanitas<br />
pentru φιλανθρωπία, essentia pentru ουσία, veriloquium pentru ετυμολογία.[31]. Cicero a<br />
fost însă un purist rezonabil, întrucât el nu contestă în bloc elenismele, ci doar pe cele care<br />
nu erau necesare; pentru cele necesare şi utile, intrate deja în uzul curent, recomandă<br />
naturalizarea lor în limba latină (nostra ducamus – să le socotim ale noastre).<br />
Epoca Principatului este din nou favorabilă uzului elenismelor, conform declaraţiei<br />
de principiu a lui Quintilianus: confessis quoque Graecis utimur verbis, ubi nostra desunt<br />
(ne folosim de cuvinte curat greceşti, când ne lipsesc ale noastre). [32] Latina epocii<br />
imperiale cunoştea două tipuri de pronunţie a cuvintelor greceşti, care reflectă şi o<br />
stratificare socială a bilingvilor: de o parte pătura superioară, cultă, deprinsese prin<br />
instrucţie o pronunţie fidelă limbii greceşti, de cealaltă parte, straturile sociale, inferioare<br />
adaptaseră pronunţia grecismelor sistemului fonologic latin. Un nou val de elenisme<br />
irumpe în limba latină odată cu penetrarea creştinismului în lumea romană, întrucât<br />
terminologia creştină era greacă la origine. Autorii latini creştini, buni cunoscători ai limbii<br />
greceşti, vor forja un vocabular latin de specialitate, "culegând câte ceva din ambele<br />
limbi", cum afirmă Tertullianus (si quid utriusque linguae praecerpsi) [33], mărturie<br />
relevantă pentru mijloacele lingvistice de care s-au servit autorii creştini: împrumut,<br />
adaptare, resemantizare.<br />
b. Traducerea, ca ipostază a interferenţei prin transfer, a prilejuit confruntarea a<br />
două puncte de vedere: 1.cel al traducerii literale, verbum e verbo, de a cărei imperfecţiune<br />
Cicero era conştient atunci când afirma: perturbationes animi ... Graeci πάθη appelant;<br />
ego poteram morbos et id verbum esset a verbo, sed in consuetudinem nostram non<br />
caderet (grecii numesc πάθη pătimirile sufletului; eu puteam să le numesc morbi şi acest<br />
cuvânt ar fi conform celui grec, doar că nu e conform cu uzul nostru) [34]; 2. cel al<br />
traducerii literare, practicate de Cicero şi recomandate şi de alţi autori latini: traducând<br />
unele discursuri ale lui Demosthenes şi Eschines, Cicero spune că nu a considerat necesar<br />
să traducă cuvânt cu cuvânt, ci să păstreze tonul de ansamblu şi forţa expresivă a cuvintelor<br />
greceşti (non verbum pro verbo necesse habui reddere, sed genus omne verborum vimque<br />
servavi) [35]; Horatius îi recomandă oricărui tânăr autor dramatic să nu se preocupe a reda,<br />
ca traducător fidel, cuvânt cu cuvânt modelul literar grec, dacă vrea să abordeze un subiect<br />
poetic cunoscut (nec verbo verbum curabis reddere fidus/ interpres) [36]; la acest îndemn<br />
horaţian pare să facă aluzie Aulus Gellius, atunci când afirmă: Când este nevoie să se<br />
traducă sau să se imite pasaje mai însemnate din operele poetice greceşti, nu trebuie să ne<br />
străduim întotdeauna, se spune, să redăm cu orice preţ cuvânt cu cuvânt <strong>text</strong>ul original,<br />
căci pierde din eleganţă şi frumuseţe. Sunt anumite construcţii şi expresii care refuză o<br />
astfel de traducere gramaticală. [37]<br />
c. Interferenţa prin fuziune vizează trei tipuri de conexiune lingvistică:<br />
a. Hibridizarea produsă mai ales la nivel lexical, constând fie în crearea unor<br />
derivate de la un cuvânt latin cu sufixe greceşti (fratrissa < lat. frater + sufixul grecesc –<br />
issa pentru formarea unor feminine), fie prin combinarea unor sufixe (-itanus < lat. –anus<br />
+ gr. ίτ);<br />
b. Apariţia unor cuvinte bastarde, numite de lexicografii latini notha verba, prin<br />
"coruperea", adică prin integrarea latină a cuvintelor greceşti (nomen nothum, ex parte<br />
corruptum), precum leo, leonis pentru λέων, λέοντος, Achilles pentru Aχιλλευς [38]. Şi<br />
Varro spune despre aceste cuvinte că şi-au pierdut identitatea, nefiind nici greceşti, nici<br />
latineşti (parum similia videntur esse Graecis ... parum similia nostris). [39]<br />
c. Intersecţia celor două coduri lingvistice, latin şi grec, în baza moştenirii lor<br />
comune, indoeuropene şi a evoluţiei paralele. La nivel lexical e vorba de acele communia<br />
95
nomina, communia verba, cum le numeau lexicografii latini, precum domus/ δόμος; fero/<br />
φέρω; ago/ άγω; ego/ εγώ; tu/ τύ, etc.<br />
În conştiinţa romanilor cele două limbi ajung a fi atât de intim legate încât se<br />
ajunge uneori la a i se atribui unui cuvânt grec o etimologie latină sau invers, ba, lucru şi<br />
mai important, la a se invoca provenienţa latinei din greacă, idee pe care o exprimă<br />
Quintilianus [40], dar care-şi are cel mai probabil originea în mediul grecesc.<br />
Ca o concluzie la această sumară investigaţie a problematicii bilingvismului latinogrec,<br />
vom spune că influenţele lingvistice şi culturale ale elenismului asupra limbii şi<br />
culturii latine nu au dus la o pierdere de identitate a acestora în cursul fenomenului de<br />
aculturaţie şi că fenomenele de contact şi interferenţă mai sus discutate au constituit un<br />
incontestabil factor de progres, profitabil în posteritate pentru cultura şi spiritualitatea<br />
europeană.<br />
Note:<br />
[1] Cicero, De oficiis, I, 1, tr.n.<br />
[2] Idem, Orator, 235<br />
[3] Horatius, Carmina, III, 8, v.5<br />
[4] Ovidius, Ars amatoria, II, vv.123-124, trad.Gr.Tănăsescu în vol. Antologia poeziei latine, Bucureşti, Ed.<br />
Albatros, 1973, p.167<br />
[5] Quintilianus, Institutio oratoria, I, 1, 14<br />
[6] Ibidem, I, 1, 13, tr.n.<br />
[7] A.Meillet, Esquisse d'une histoire de la langue latine, Paris, 1945, pp.108-111<br />
[8] J.Kramer, L'influence du grec sur le latin populaire. Quelques réflexions, "Studii clasice", XVIII,<br />
Bucureşti, Ed.Academiei R.S.R., 1979, p.131.<br />
[9] P.Boyancé, La conaissance du grec à Rome, "R.E.L.", 34, 1956, pp.111-116<br />
[10] P.Grimal, Literatura latină, trad. de Mariana şi Liviu Franga, Bucureşti, Ed.Teora, 1997, p.20<br />
[11] J.Marouzeau, Quelques aspects de la formation du latin litteraire, Paris, 1949, p.133<br />
[12] Cicero, De oratore, II, 154, tr.n.<br />
[13] Apud Plinius Maior, Naturalis historia, XXIX, 7<br />
[14] P.Grimal, op.cit., pp.99-100<br />
[15] Cicero, Brutus, 131<br />
[16] Cornelius Nepos, De viris illustribus, XXV, 4, 1<br />
[17] Quintilianus, op.cit., XI, 2, 50; vide et Valerius Maximus, Memorabilia, III, 7, 6<br />
[18] J.Marouzeau, op.cit., p.175<br />
[19] Cicero, De officiis, I, 3, tr.n.<br />
[20] Cicero, Ad Atticum, I, 20, tr.n.<br />
[21] Suetonius, Caesar, 82, 2<br />
[22] R.Flacelière, Istoria literară a Greciei antice, Bucure ti, Ed.Univers, 1970, p.462.<br />
[23] Iuvenalis, Satirae, VI, vv.191-197, trad. T.Măinescu şi A.Hodoş în vol. Persius, Iuvenal, Marţial, Satire<br />
şi epigrame, Bucureşti, Ed. pentru literatură, 1967, p.126.<br />
[24] James Noel Adams, Bilingualism and the Latin Language, Cambridge University Press, 2003;<br />
M.Dubuisson, Le contact linguistique gréco-romain: problèmes d'interférences et d'emprunts,<br />
"Lalies", 10, 1992, pp.91-109; Fr.Biville, Contacts linguistiques, "Studii clasice", XXVII-<br />
XXXIX, 2001-2003, Bucureşti, Ed. Academiei Române, pp.189-201.<br />
[25] E.Peruzzi, Aspetti culturali del Latio primitivo, Firenze, 1977; idem, I greci e le lingue del Latio<br />
primitivo, Roma, 1978.<br />
[26] Fr.Biville, L'emprunt lexical, un révélateur des structures vivantes des deux langues en contact (le cas<br />
du grec et du latin; "Revue Philologique", 65 (1991), pp.45-58.<br />
[27] G.Devotô, I primi grecismi nella storia della lingua latina, în Mélanges à E.Boisacq, I, 1937, pp.327-<br />
332;<br />
[28] Quintilianus, Institutio oratoria, XII, 10, 27-36, trad. Maria Hetco.<br />
[29] Cf.Fr.Biville, Grec et latin: contacts linguistiques et création lexicale. Pour une typologie des<br />
hellénismes lexicaux du latin, "CILL", 15, 1989, p.1-40.<br />
[30] J. Kramer, op.cit., p.128; G. Devoto, Storia, p.88.<br />
[31] G.Devoto, Storia, p.148.<br />
[32] Quintilianus, op.cit., I, 5, 58, tr.M.Hetco.<br />
[33] Tertullianus, Adversus Praxean, III, 2.<br />
96
[34] Cicero, Tusculanae disputationes, III, 7.<br />
[35] Cicero, De optimo genere oratorum, V, 14.<br />
[36] Horatius, Ars poetica, 133-134.<br />
[37] A.Gellius, Noctes Atticae, IX, 9, 1-2, trad. David Popescu.<br />
[38] Isidorus din Sevilla, Etymologiae, 12, 2, 3.<br />
[39] Varro, De lingua latina, X, 69-71.<br />
[40] Quintilianus, op.cit., I, 1, 58.<br />
Abstract<br />
This paper deals with an essential issue in the making of the European linguistic and conceptual<br />
community, namely, Latin and Greek bilingualism. First acknowledged by the Latin writers’<br />
phrase utrasque lingua, the fusion of Latin and Greek elements was commented upon in modern<br />
exegeses, which refer to the concepts of contact and interference. The former has a historical<br />
dimension, denoting the use of the two languages within a particular spatial and temporal<br />
con<strong>text</strong>, whereas the latter addresses the consequences of this contact for the evolution of the two<br />
languages. We have approached both concepts, but insisted on the latter, drawing on the<br />
taxonomic criteria established by the French linguist Fr. Biville, and further elaborating on the<br />
typology of interference:<br />
A. Relational interference, which is either <strong>text</strong>ual, in bilingual <strong>text</strong>s, or metalingual, which<br />
reveals the Latin authors’ awareness of the limits and flaws of their linguistic system,<br />
compared to Greek, an attitude that provided the basis for modern contrastive<br />
linguistics;<br />
B. Interference by transfer, which involves an impressive number of Greek loans in Latin<br />
and the translation of Greek <strong>text</strong>s into Latin;<br />
C. Interference by fusion, manifest in the following three types: hybridization (i.e. Latin<br />
derivatives suffixed on a Greek or a hybrid basis), the coining of hybrid words (by<br />
phonologically and morphologically adapting Greek loans to Latin) and a common stock<br />
of words, by virtue of the Indo-European origin of the two languages.<br />
The linguistic and cultural contact and interference between Greek and Latin contributed not<br />
only to their growth but also to fostering European cultural and spiritual communion.<br />
Résumé<br />
Le travail aborde un problème essentiel pour la création de la communauté linguistique et<br />
conceptuelle européenne, notamment le bilinguisme latin et grec. Reconnue tout d’abord par les<br />
écrivains de langue latine, sous la forme de l’expression utrasque lingua, la fusion entre les<br />
éléments d’origine latine et ceux d’origine grecque, a été longtemps commentée par les exégèses<br />
modernes qui font référence aux concepts de contact et d’interférence. Le premier concept a une<br />
dimension historique, dénotant l’emploi de ces deux langues dans un certain con<strong>text</strong>e spatial et<br />
temporel, tandis que, le second réfère aux conséquences du concept sur l’évolution des deux<br />
langues. Nous avons attaqué les deux concepts - avec un plus d’attention pour le second – en<br />
tenant compte des critères de classification établis par le linguiste français Fr. Biville et,<br />
élaborant la typologie de l’interférence :<br />
A. L’interférence relationnelle qui peut être soit <strong>text</strong>uelle, soit métalinguistique dans les<br />
<strong>text</strong>es bilingues et relève du fait que les auteurs latins connaissaient les limites et les<br />
défauts de leur système linguistique, par comparaison au système grec, attitude qui a<br />
mis les bases de la linguistique contrastive moderne;<br />
B. L’interférence par transfert qui compte un nombre impressionnant d’emprunts grecs<br />
dans le latin et la traduction des <strong>text</strong>es grecs en latin;<br />
C. L’interférence par fusion, caractérisée par trois types : l’hybridisation (les dérivés latins<br />
obtenus par la suffixation d’une racine grecque ou d’une base hybride), la création des<br />
formations hybrides (par l’adaptation morphologique et phonétique des emprunts grecs<br />
aux caractéristiques de la langue latine) et l’existence d’un fond commun de mots,<br />
résultat de l’origine indo-européenne commune des deux langues.<br />
97
Le contact et l’interférence linguistiques qui caractérisent les langues grecque et latine ont<br />
contribué non seulement à l’enrichissement de ces deux langues mais aussi à l’extension de la<br />
communion spirituelle et culturelle de l’Europe.<br />
Rezumat<br />
Lucrarea abordează o problemă esenţială în crearea comunităţii lingvistice şi<br />
conceptuale europene şi anume, bilingvismul latin şi grecesc. Recunoscută mai întâi de către<br />
scriitorii de limba latină, sub forma expresiei utrasque lingua, fuziunea dintre elementele latineşti<br />
şi cele greceşti a fost comentată în exegeze moderne care fac referire la conceptele de contact şi<br />
interferenţă. Primul are dimensiune istorică, denotând utilizarea celor două limbi într-un anume<br />
con<strong>text</strong> spaţial şi temporal, pe când cel de-al doilea se referă la consecinţele acestui contact<br />
asupra evoluţiei celor două limbi. Am abordat ambele concepte, însă am insistat asupra celui deal<br />
doilea, ţinând cont de criteriile de clasificare stabilite de lingvistul francez Fr. Biville, şi<br />
elaborând tipologia interferenţei:<br />
A. Interferenţa relaţională, care este fie <strong>text</strong>uală, fie metalingvistică în <strong>text</strong>ele bilingve şi<br />
care relevă faptul că autorii latini erau conştienţi de limitele şi defectele sistemului lor<br />
lingvistic, comparativ cu cel grecesc, atitudine ce a asigurat fundamentul lingvisticii<br />
contrastive moderne;<br />
B. Interferenţa prin transfer, care implică un număr impresionant de împrumuturi greceşti<br />
în limba latină şi traducerea <strong>text</strong>elor greceşti în limba latină;<br />
C. Interferenţa prin fuziune, manifestă în următoarele trei tipuri: hibridizarea (derivatele<br />
latineşti obţinute prin sufixarea unei rădăcini greceşti or o bază hibridă), crearea unor<br />
formaţiuni hibride (prin adaptarea morfologică şi fonetică a împrumuturilor greceşti la<br />
caracteristicile limbii latine) şi existenţa unui fond comun de cuvinte, ca urmare a<br />
originii indo-europene a celor două limbi.<br />
Contactul şi interferenţa lingvistică caracterizând limbile greacă şi latină au contribuit nu numai<br />
la îmbogăţirea acestor limbi ci şi la extinderea comuniunii spirituale şi culturale europene.<br />
98
Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of GALAŢI<br />
Fascicle XIII. New Series.<br />
Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006<br />
pp. 99 - 106<br />
Language<br />
and<br />
Literature<br />
THE FASCINATION WITH THE WOR(L)D. (RE)PRESENTATION OR<br />
CREATION<br />
Steluţa Stan<br />
Introduction<br />
Before going into the analysis proper of the way in which the metafictional <strong>text</strong><br />
articulates, we consider it necessary to mention that, in our opinion there are at least two<br />
types of postmodernism that differ from one another both through organization of the<br />
narrative material and their vision: a playful, self-ironical and parodic postmodernism,<br />
the features of which are narrative discontinuity, open, even ostentatious, display of the<br />
narrative strategies and compositional procedures, parody of the literary conventions<br />
and the challenging of the reader (as in Barth, Pynchon, Vonnegut or Barthelme), and a<br />
second postmodernism, one that Carmen Muşat (2002) labels as imaginative/<br />
anthropocentric, concentrating on the human being, in an attempt at recovering the<br />
symbolic imagination and visions (as in Fowles, Murdoch or Styron).<br />
Heterogeneity being one of the characteristics of postmodernism, most often<br />
than not the two types contaminate each other, so that none of the writers mentioned for<br />
either of the types is unfamiliar with the devices used by their “co-workers” in the other<br />
category. The distinction is necessary only if we consider the dominant of the <strong>text</strong>, the<br />
author’s preference for one series of devices or the other.<br />
Metafictional novels are the ones to overtly reveal their fictionality and reflect<br />
on their own status and narrative procedures. Within this self-reflective category, Linda<br />
Hutcheon distinguishes between overt, diegetic, metafiction (that takes as main theme<br />
its own status, rules and the very process of narration) and covert, linguistic, metafiction<br />
(that suggests through language games, parody and inter<strong>text</strong>ual references, the inability<br />
of language to function as a means of communication or, even more important than this,<br />
its ability to create other worlds, alternative to and more meaningful than the “real”<br />
one). (Hutcheon, 1980)<br />
This second category of novels, of a bewildering type, unlike the traditional<br />
realistic one, breaks the illusion that what it tells about is an objective reality, truth<strong>full</strong>y<br />
reflected in language; instead, its purpose is to raise questions and pose problems, to<br />
tease the readers out of their easy acceptance of the traditional and pre-established<br />
modes of thinking, to invite them to take part in the literary game. As the area that<br />
explores the relationship between fiction and reality is concerned, however vigorous the<br />
post-structuralist insistence to see fiction (as well as literature, in general) as a free<br />
game of signifiers with no signifieds, the metafictional novel makes an open invitation<br />
at finding answers for a set of unexpected and startling questions:<br />
Is there a reality ontologically separate and different from our linguistic<br />
consciousness? And if there is, can we know it without altering it by our<br />
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<br />
different reality that we have assumed to exist? Or are we fooling ourselves in<br />
believing that there is such a reality, when in reality we are locked up in the<br />
prison-house of language, in the reading gaol?<br />
(Kums in Bignami and Patey, 1996: 151)<br />
The borders become even more fluid and obscured due to the juxtaposition of a number<br />
of possible worlds: the real, the fictitious, the fictionalised fictitious and metafiction<br />
itself, all of which seeming to fall on Baudrillard’s four phases of the image.<br />
Ultimately, the central and most relevant issue, intimately and necessarily linked to this<br />
set of questions, remains that of truth.<br />
Factual or fictional<br />
Regarding the distinction between factual and fictional discourse, Peter Lamarque<br />
offers the following solution for the existence or inexistence of reference and truth: we<br />
either admit that the objects in fiction match the existence of objects in the real world,<br />
or consider that the only objects that exist are those of the real world, thus denying any<br />
existence to the ones in fiction. Therefore, the very ground for the distinction between<br />
fictional and factual discourse disappears: “Fiction is whatever is man-made<br />
(conceptually or linguistically). Truth is man-made (conceptually or linguistically).<br />
Therefore, truth is just a species of fiction.” (Lamarque in Nash, 1994: 137)<br />
In an interview, Fowles claims that “all novelists are liars because fiction is the<br />
business of telling falsehoods about people who do not even exist”. (Fowles in<br />
Ciugureanu and Vlad, 1998: 73)<br />
Through lies, stories born sometimes from the desire to embellish a monotonous,<br />
thus boring, reality, another world is born, different from the existing one, the same as<br />
Bagdhad (before the war that brought a sad fame upon it), meant the city of the “one<br />
thousand and one nights”, or, as Barth puts it in Chimera (1972), some fictions were so<br />
much more valuable than fact that in rare instances their beauty made them real.<br />
Bringing to focus the gap between art and life that conventional realism tries to<br />
conceal, metafictional discourse appears in the work of English novelists in the form of<br />
asides (from prefaces and mottoes to direct, authorially intrusive, passages) in novels<br />
primarily concentrated on traditional means of conveying the message, portraying<br />
character and describing action; such passages are considered manipulative as they use<br />
the conventions of realism and, in the same time, acknowledge their artificiality even as<br />
they employ them; they disarm criticism by anticipating it; they flatter the reader<br />
considering them their intellectual equal, a reader sophisticated enough to be familiar<br />
with the conventional fictional representation, the intricacies of weaving a <strong>text</strong>, and<br />
aware that the work of fiction is a verbal construction rather than a “slice<br />
of life”. As to metafictional writers, Lodge, was saying that they have “a sneaky habit of<br />
incorporating potential criticism into their <strong>text</strong> and thus ‘fictionalize’ it.” (Lodge,<br />
1992: 208)<br />
From the logical point of view, fictional discourse is defined in terms of zero<br />
denotation[1]: the linguistic constituents that, in factual discourse, have a denotative<br />
function (proper names, deictics, demonstratives…) lack any denotation proper. The<br />
fictional statement has a meaning without having a referent. If we are to think how<br />
much, for example, we care if Ulysses existed or not, we would realize that, beyond the<br />
issue of the presence or absence of the denotation of fiction in the real world, a special<br />
attention deserves the cognitive richness that fiction offers. A statement that lacks<br />
denotation because it is read literally can become true (can denote) if read<br />
100
metaphorically. Don Quixote never existed but his name applies metaphorically to a<br />
certain category of people. Therefore, the intrinsically literary characteristics as well as<br />
the expressive qualities of writing are part of the referential structure of both the<br />
symbolic system and the denotative one: if a piece of writing does not denote because it<br />
is fictional, it does not necessarily lose its referential dimension. With metafiction, what<br />
is non-denoted, but real-ised, is fiction itself. This way, the discussion about the<br />
construction of the <strong>text</strong> becomes the content proper.<br />
On the other hand, the same as we move in everyday life from a kind of world to<br />
another, fiction allows us free access to different and successive worlds, parallel to the<br />
ones the human being is aware of historically and socially; consequently, the structure<br />
of fiction should be understood as resembling to the one of a ladder on which, more or<br />
less real and more or less fictional worlds define human reality by inter-action and<br />
inter-reflection: “Strangely enough, […] when using the term ‘world’ one is using a<br />
space term […] But narrative fiction calls our attention to time and a sequence in time<br />
[…] Literature is generally to be classed as a time-art (in distinction from painting and<br />
sculpture, space-arts).”(Wellek and Warren, 1993: 147)<br />
As a result, the world of a novel is a structure or a complex organism made up of<br />
a wide range of constitutive elements, combined to create the illusion of reality; this<br />
illusion depends on the effect it has on the reader to be assimilated as the reality of a<br />
work of fiction. It is the task of narratology to analyse these elements and establish the<br />
manner in which they contribute to the presentation of the events.<br />
The wave of metafictional novels in the ‘60s and ‘70s may have lost its force in<br />
the ‘80s, but it did not disappear as its critics, who used to see in this kind of writing just<br />
a futile attempt of the novel at postponing its own death, heralded. Those who attacked<br />
metafiction accused it of “self-flattering narcissism” (a term that Hutcheon transforms<br />
in her 1980 essay in grounds for pride), of elitism (novelists talking to themselves and<br />
to one another about how great and how utterly important their writing practices are), of<br />
narrowness, circularity and repetitivity (resembling dogs chasing their own tail as if it<br />
were the most important thing in the world). From this perspective, metafictional novels<br />
are those in which the epic respiration gives way to the self-annihilating experiment.<br />
Beyond all these accusations lies the assumption that the novel should tell about<br />
people and reality, taking over the tradition of social realism, in a clear message. Thus,<br />
metafiction becomes, to use Barth’s words in a somehow distorted interpretation, a<br />
literature of exhaustion, the last stage before its death. The reaction of rejection towards<br />
this type of literature is also triggered by its labeling, without any further distinctions, as<br />
postmodernist, even deconstructivist. Consequently, the latter’s critics transferred their<br />
accusations upon metafiction: the lack of a final, stable meaning of the <strong>text</strong>[2], its<br />
refusal of any forms of closure, the ignoring of literary tradition and of the cannon; as in<br />
the case of deconstructivism, the critics of metafiction consider it to “sin” by taking<br />
pleasure in ambiguity and contradiction, by incorporating heterogeneous material<br />
(fantasy, fairytale, documents, fiction, journalism)[3], and this way, erasing the<br />
boundaries between the genres, by incorporating its own criticism and reading<br />
instructions, by toying with the printing conventions etc. In short, the novel (by the<br />
judgment of its dissenters) tends to become an unrecognizable category, downgraded to<br />
a kind of jumbled and jangled <strong>text</strong>.<br />
Taking out the exaggerations, one cannot ignore such reactions, at least because<br />
they exist, even if coming from conservative positions, resistant to change.<br />
101
Mimesis[4] or diegesis[5]<br />
It is true that, although metafiction and deconstructivism are not the same (the latter<br />
being a critical attitude, a practice of approaching any linguistic expression, literature<br />
included), what they have in common is a certain, permanent, self-search and selfquestioning,<br />
and the refusal to accept existing forms and hierarchies as such and for<br />
ever.<br />
Among the critics who embarked upon offering counter-arguments, mention<br />
must be made of Patricia Waugh (Metafiction, 1984), Linda Hutcheon (Narcissistic<br />
Narrative, 1980), Steven Kellman (The Self-Begetting Novel, 1980). They showed that<br />
self-questioning in fiction is not a symptom of exhaustion but a necessary and very<br />
important stage in the development of the analysis, and that the value of metafictional<br />
literature resides exactly in this self-scrutiny, sometimes playful, some other times<br />
painful.<br />
It would be absurd to suppose that metafiction sets as its goal to demonstrate its<br />
own futility and irrelevance; the “message” it carries is, nevertheless, different from that<br />
of the traditional realist novel, because, unlike this one, metafictive writings do not want<br />
to preserve the illusion that they reflect reality objectively and truth<strong>full</strong>y. However deep<br />
this undermined the fictional conventions, and however confusing the avoidance of the<br />
final meaning, the metafictional novel always has an implicit intention (even explicit<br />
many times): to challenge the reader into giving up their final formulations, and<br />
accepting that posing questions with no easy, even impossible, answers, is beneficial.<br />
As for the question about the possibility to represent the world into the literary fiction,<br />
the metafictional novel has a negative answer: “what can be represented is the discourse<br />
of that”. (Waugh, 1984: 3)<br />
If the novel uses language, either to represent a world or even create it, then it<br />
becomes very clear that the fundamental theme of metafiction is the linguistic paradox:<br />
novelists are permanently confronted with the inability of language to express the<br />
richness of their visions; in consequence, they fight a constant battle with the<br />
limits/prison of language in order to achieve appropriate expressiveness. Despite all<br />
this, by the very means of this language, poor as it may be, they create the most<br />
coherent and spectacular fictional worlds and completely expose their transparency as<br />
“worlds of words”, not worlds haunted by the stubborn and rejecting resistance of<br />
reality:<br />
What is to be acknowledged is that there are two poles of metafiction: one that<br />
finally accepts a substantial real world whose significance is not entirely<br />
composed of relationships within language; and one that suggests that there can<br />
never be an escape from the prison-house of language and either delights or<br />
dispairs in this.<br />
(Waugh, op. cit.: 53)<br />
Here is Lodge’s novelist at a crossroads! In what the British one is concerned, he<br />
chooses, most of the times, the road of the realist novel, the road to the compromise<br />
between the fictional and the empirical modes of writing, although admitting that the<br />
pressure of skepticism on the esthetic and epistemological premises of traditional<br />
realism is so intense that many novelists feel confronted with a choice, the one<br />
mentioned above, between the non-fictional novel and fabulation, as Robert Scholes<br />
names it, giving as examples Günter Grass, William Burroughs, Thomas Pynchon etc.<br />
What Lodge recommends, himself with a leg in the boat of criticism and one in that of<br />
literary creation, is that writers take at least the time of hesitation, or, as many already<br />
102
did, build that hesitation within the écriture itself, to which he attaches the following<br />
label:<br />
[t]he novel-about-itself, the trick-novel, the game-novel, the puzzle-novel, the<br />
novel that leads the reader (who wishes, naїvely, only to be told what to believe)<br />
through a fairground of illusions and deceptions, distorting mirrors and trapdoors<br />
that open disconcertingly under his feet, leaving him ultimately not with<br />
any simple or reassuring message or meaning but with a paradox about the<br />
relation of art to life.<br />
(Lodge, 1971: 105)<br />
Not exactly the same thing happens across the Atlantic. American novelists repeatedly<br />
approach the issue of the words as a unique system for the translation of reality into<br />
fiction in their novels, primarily in the self-reflective ones. The process of the<br />
trespassing of ontological barriers is summarized by Bellerophon in Barth’s Chimera:<br />
“Loosed at last from mortal speech, he turned into written words: Bellerophonic letters<br />
afloat between two worlds, forever betraying, in combinations and re-combinations, the<br />
man they forever represent”. (Barth in Toma, 2004: 80)<br />
This growing fascination with words is part of the similar growing introversion<br />
of the postmodernist novel, being yet another mark of the fact that this one is aware of it<br />
being an invented reality, opposed to the real reality. This attitude towards language, its<br />
use to attract attention upon itself, not upon external reality, expresses, as we could<br />
expect, the refusal of the literature of our times to immortalize the symbols of reality,<br />
the loss of confidence in its stable values and the transformation of this loss into a<br />
supreme faith. Todd Andrews, the barthian character in The Floating Opera (1956),<br />
offers the only possible solution:<br />
So, reader, should you ever find yourself writing about the world, take care not<br />
to nibble at the many tempting symbols she sets squarely in your path, or you’ll<br />
be baited into saying things you don’t mean and offending the people you want<br />
most to entertain. Develop, if you can, the technique of the pall-bearer and<br />
myself: smile, but walk on and say nothing, as though you hadn’t noticed.<br />
(Barth in op. cit.: 85)<br />
The focus on fictionality becomes essential in the attempt to play<strong>full</strong>y order the<br />
(seemingly) random, the accidental, attach some significance to it or ironically ignore it.<br />
Even if sometimes and only for a while the illusion of reference to the real world is<br />
maintained, the reader is permanently “brutalised” with passages that violate the code of<br />
realism. Lodge mentions in this respect Joseph Heller’s novel Good as Gold (1979),<br />
where one of the numbered chapters begins like this:<br />
Once again Gold found himself preparing to lunch with someone [...] and the<br />
thought arose that he was spending an awful lot of time in this book eating and<br />
talking. [...] Certainly he would soon meet a schoolteacher with four children<br />
with whom he would fall madly in love, and I would shortly hold out to him the<br />
tantalizing promise of becoming the country’s first Jewish Secretary of State, a<br />
promise I did not intend to keep.<br />
(Heller in Lodge, 1992: 42)<br />
The above-mentioned trespassing is achieved in two ways: on the one hand, admitting<br />
that Gold is a character in a book, not someone in the real world; on the other,<br />
103
underlining the fact that he has no autonomy whatsoever, being, simply and completely,<br />
at the disposal of a creator who is not sure what to do with him. About the same thing<br />
happens in Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse Five, an intrusion like “This was I. That was me.<br />
That was the author of this book” being a usual one. Such “gestures” are labelled as<br />
“breaking the frame” or “revealing the device” or, more simply, “metafiction”. By itself,<br />
the procedure is not new at all and similar examples of exposure of the fictionality of<br />
fiction can be easily found in Cervantes, Fielding, Sterne, Thackeray or Trollope, but<br />
not in the modernist ones, because such a foregrounding of the author’s existence, the<br />
very source of diegesis, is contrary to the modernist principle of impersonality and the<br />
mimesis of consciousness. Quite paradoxically, metafictional devices might appear as a<br />
way to continue the exploration and exploitation of the sources of realism,<br />
simultaneously to the admittance of their conventionality.<br />
The more the authors reveal themselves in such <strong>text</strong>s, the more they become a<br />
voice, function of their own fiction, a rhetorical construct; not privileged authority, but<br />
object to interpretation. A possible conclusion is that postmodernist literature re-affirms<br />
diegesis; not harmoniously interweaved with mimesis (as in the classic realist <strong>text</strong>), not<br />
subordinate (as in the modernist one), but foregrounded, through contrast, by mimesis:<br />
The stream of consciousness has turned into a stream of narration – which would<br />
be one way of summarizing the difference between the greatest modernist<br />
novelist, Joyce, and the greatest postmodernist, Beckett. When the Unnamable<br />
says to himself, ‘You must go on. I can’t go on. I’ll go on’, he means, on one<br />
level at least, that he must go on narrating.<br />
(Lodge, 1992: 44)<br />
Also in reference to the British writers and their relationship with postmodernism<br />
(especially some of its attributes such as the questioning of metanarrative, the<br />
decentring of cultural authority, and the ironic disruption of the self-contained fictional<br />
world), Dominic Head (2002) agrees that their novels also convey a conviction about<br />
the moral and emotional function of narrative fiction, and its ability to make readers reengage<br />
with the world they know. In this way, the writers offer a re-working of the<br />
realist contract, involving the reader’s willing acceptance that the <strong>text</strong> provides a bridge<br />
to reality. Much the same as Lodge, Head considers that the British authors are not<br />
postmodernist in the meaning of “experimentalist” only, but their writings should be<br />
viewed as the expression of a mode of writing capable of generating an emotional<br />
response, beyond the distractions of self-conscious trickiness; this understanding of<br />
postmodernism, as a hybrid form of expression that renegociates tradition, is the one<br />
that could make a case for British Postmodernism, and that could account for the work<br />
of practitioners such as Margaret Drabble, Martin Amis, Graham Swift, Peter Ackroyd,<br />
Salman Rushdie, Martin Amis or Angela Carter. As about the metafictional writing, the<br />
self-conscious fiction that underlines its own fictionality, Head says:<br />
This degree of play<strong>full</strong>ness is self-deprecating in the sense that it has the effect<br />
of devaluing the role and function of ‘literature’. No longer capable of high<br />
seriousness, the literary object colludes in its own debunking, participating in the<br />
cultural logic that blurs the distinction between ‘high’ and ‘low’ culture. The<br />
consequence of this is a culture of pastiche, with no vantage point from which<br />
value can be assigned with authority. [...] It is this kind of ludic postmodernism<br />
that has failed to gain a purchase in British literary culture.<br />
(Head, 2002: 229)<br />
104
A further consequence, in Head’s oppinion, is a “waning of affect”, the production of<br />
self-conscious culture in which powerful emotion can no longer be communicated<br />
without mediation, qualification, or reservation. This kind of ludic postmodernism<br />
seems to have failed to gain a purchase in British literary culture, unlike in the<br />
American one.<br />
Notes<br />
[1] Roland Barthes expresses in Writing Degree Zero (1967) the hope that language can be used in an<br />
utopic way and that there are cultural codes that can be trespassed. At the beginning of the ’70s, he began<br />
to see language, the same as Derrida, as a space the metaphoric character of which remains unknown. In<br />
Empire of Signs (1970), Barthes gives up any claim to describe or analyze reality., mixing cultural forms<br />
of an extreme diversity, from haikus to different machines, pieces of a sort of anti-utopic landscape in<br />
which everything is surface, nothing is form. Writing becomes a goal in itself. In his last <strong>text</strong>, Barthes by<br />
Barthes, concepts do not count for their validity or invalidity, but for their efficiency as a writing tactic.<br />
[2] The two alternative endings in The French Lieutenant’s Woman are an excellent illustration of the<br />
‘forking paths technique’ that McHale (1987: 106-10) considers to be postmodernist par excellence.<br />
[3] Arguing in favour of the metafictional novel and referring to its connections and affinities with other<br />
genres, Guido Kums says: “It is also evident that these novels all to a greater or lesser extent display this<br />
magpie tendency to collect other genres of writing: they all contain letters, diaries, documents with<br />
political, philosophical or sociological discourse, and they all parody various styles and fashions of<br />
writing.” (Kums in Bignami, 1996: 153)<br />
[4] In the Republic, Plato distinguishes between diegesis (the poet represents the actions in his own voice)<br />
and mimesis (the actions are represented in the voices of the character or characters), and considers that in<br />
the epic genre we meet an alternation of the two discoursive types, the poet’s and the characters’.<br />
Bakhtin, in his turn also makes the distinction between the author’s direct speech – diegesis, the<br />
represented speech of the characters – mimesis, and the double-oriented speech – referring not only to<br />
something that exists in the world but also to the speech act of another charater, neither diegesis nor<br />
mimesis, nor a mixture of the two, but, as Lodge calls it, ‘a sort of pseudo-diegesis’; for example, in the<br />
last episodes of Ulysses, the narrator-author disappears and he is replaced by the voice of the reviews for<br />
women. Lodge’s conclusion is that: the classic realist <strong>text</strong> is charaterized by a ballanced and harmonious<br />
mixture of diegesis and mimesis, the author’s speech and represented speech; the modern novel, by the<br />
domination of mimesis over diegesis, impersonality and dramatization; the postmodernist novel, by the<br />
re-introduction of the author exiled by the modernists into the <strong>text</strong> and a revival of diegesis.<br />
[5] In postmodernist fiction, Lodge distinguishes the following categories: transfiction, surfiction,<br />
metafiction, new jurnalism, non-fictional novel, faction, fabulation, le nouveau roman, le nouveau<br />
nouveau roman, irrealism, magic realism etc. In his opinion, the British postmodernism ignores modernist<br />
experiments that “Joyce, Woolf and Co. thought had despatched for good”. (Lodge, 1990: 25)<br />
References<br />
Barthes, R. (1967). Writing Degree Zero, Annette Lavers, Collin Smith (trans.), London: Cape.<br />
Baudrillard, J. (1983). Simulations, Paul Foss et al. (trad.), New York: Semio<strong>text</strong>(e).<br />
Bignami, M. & C. Patey (eds.) (1996). Moving the Borders. Milano: Edizioni Unicopli.<br />
Ciugureanu, A. & E. Vlad (1998). Multiple Perspectives, Constanţa: Ex Ponto.<br />
Head, D. (2002). The Cambridge Introduction to Modern British Fiction. 1950-2000, Cambridge:<br />
Cambridge University Press.<br />
Hutcheon, L. (1980). Narcissistic Narrative: The Metafictional Paradox, London: Methuen.<br />
Lodge, D. (1990). After Bakhtin. Essays on Fiction and Criticism, London: Routledge.<br />
Lodge, D. (1992). The Art of Fiction, London: Penguin Books.<br />
Muşat, C. (2002). Strategiile subversiunii. Descriere şi naraţiune în proza postmodernă românească,<br />
Piteşti: Paralela 45.<br />
Nash, Ch. (ed.) (1994). Narrative in Culture, University of Warwick Centre for Research in Philosophy<br />
and Literature, Great Britain: Routledge.<br />
Toma, I. (2004). Uses and Abuses of Tradition in Postmodernist Fiction, Iasi: Premier.<br />
Waugh, P. (1984). Metafiction: The Theory and Practice of Self-Conscious Fiction, New York &<br />
London: Methuen.<br />
Wellek, R. & A. Warren (1993). Theory of Literature. London: Penguin Books.<br />
105
Abstract<br />
Most postmodernist novels ceased to even pretend they believe in the direct mirroring in the<br />
<strong>text</strong> of a purely linguistic construction of reality. In metafictional writings, the focus is on the<br />
plurality of meaning due to the inherent plurality of language, effect of a plural reality, the<br />
negociation being made between the <strong>text</strong> and the reader, the (re)producer of meaning.<br />
Fictionalising the world via the media makes the “realistic” attitude of postmodernist writers<br />
presuppose acknowledgment and assumation of the constructed character of reality; thus,<br />
however paradoxical it may seem, postmodernist prose becomes mimetic but in a completely<br />
different way than the realistic prose of the 19 th century.<br />
Résumé<br />
La majorité des romans postmodernistes ne prétendent m me plus qu’ils croient à la mise<br />
directe de la réalité dans le <strong>text</strong>e, la réalité devenant une construction purement linguistique.<br />
Dans les écritures métafictionnelles, l’accent est mis sur la pluralité de sens due à la pluralité<br />
inhérente à la langue, effet de la pluralité de la réalité. La négociation est faite alors entre le<br />
<strong>text</strong>e et le lecteur, le (re)créateur du sens. La fictionnalisation du monde par les médias<br />
remoule l’attitude «réaliste» des écrivains postmodernes qui parvient à reconnaître et<br />
assumer le caractère construit de la réalité. La prose postmoderniste devient, de la sorte,<br />
quelque paradoxale que cela puisse paraître, mimétique, mais dans un sens complétement<br />
différent de la prose réaliste du XIXe siècle.<br />
Rezumat<br />
Majoritatea romanelor postmoderniste nici măcar nu se mai prefac că ar crede în oglindirea<br />
directă a realităţii în <strong>text</strong>, realitatea devenind o construcţie pur lingvistică. În scriiturile<br />
metafic ionale, accentul cade pe pluralitatea înţelesului datorată pluralităţii inerente limbii,<br />
efect al pluralităţii realităţii, iar negocierea se face între <strong>text</strong> şi cititor, (re)producătorul de<br />
sens. Ficţionalizarea lumii prin mass media face ca atitudinea „realistă“ a scriitorilor<br />
postmoderni să presupună recunoaşterea şi asumarea caracterului construit al realităţii,<br />
proza postmodernistă devenind, oricât de paradoxal ar putea suna, mimetică, dar într-un sens<br />
complet diferit de cel al prozei realiste a secolului al XIX-lea.<br />
106
Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of GALAŢI<br />
Fascicle XIII. New Series.<br />
Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006<br />
pp. 107 - 111<br />
107<br />
Language<br />
and<br />
Literature<br />
WHAT MAISIE KNEW UNDER LINGUISTIC STYLISTIC LENS<br />
Daniela Şorcaru<br />
Henry James significantly contributed to the criticism of fiction, particularly in his<br />
insistence that writers be allowed the greatest freedom possible in presenting their view of<br />
the world. His imaginative use ofpoint of view, interior monologue and possibly unreliable<br />
narrators in his own novels and tales brought a new depth and interest to narrative fiction.<br />
He is one of the major figures of trans-Atlantic literature. His works frequently<br />
juxtapose characters from different worlds – the Old World (Europe), simultaneously<br />
artistic, corrupting, and alluring; and the New World (United States), where people are<br />
often brash, open, and assertive – and explore how this clash of personalities and cultures<br />
affects the two worlds.<br />
James favored internal, psychological drama, and his work is often about conflicts<br />
between imaginative protagonists and their difficult environments.<br />
His earlier work is considered realist because of the care<strong>full</strong>y described details of<br />
his characters’ physical surroundings. However, throughout his long career, James<br />
maintained a strong interest in a variety of artistic effects and movements. His work<br />
gradually became more metaphorical and symbolic as he entered more deeply into the<br />
minds of his characters. In its intense focus on the consciousness of his major characters,<br />
James’s later work foreshadows extensive developments in 20th century fiction. The prose<br />
of the later works is marked by long, digressive sentences that defer the verb and include<br />
many qualifying adverbs, prepositional phrases, and subordinate clauses as James seeks to<br />
pin down the bifurcating streams of his characters’ consciousness.<br />
Henry James, coming to fiction through an apprenticeship in criticism, brought an<br />
attitude more consciously that of the artist. His restricted personal experience as well as his<br />
special interests imposed upon him a more narrowed range of material and themes. His<br />
great concern became the revelation of thought and emotion, the penetration into the<br />
meaning of human relationships and concerns. More and more he devoted his art to<br />
revealing such fine shades of meaning as completely as possible.<br />
The author relied on the more involved, psychological approach to his fiction in<br />
What Maisie Knew (1897), the story of the sensitive daughter of divorced and irresponsible<br />
parents. The novel has great contemporary relevance as an unflinching account of a wildly<br />
disfunctional family. The book is also a notable technical achievement by James, as it<br />
follows the title character from earliest childhood to precocious maturity.<br />
It’s not surprising from the book’s title that knowledge and education form a major<br />
theme in this bittersweet tale of Maisie’s development. Her keen observation of the<br />
irresponsible behavior of almost all the adults she lives with eventually persuades her to<br />
rely on her most devoted friend, Mrs. Wix, even though the frumpy governess is by far the<br />
least superficially attractive adult in her life.<br />
The common reading of What Maisie Knew is that of a species of bildungsroman,<br />
as the story of Maisie’s emotional and intellectual development at the hands of her<br />
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<br />
the novel relies heavily on the linguistic devices employed to create a certain message<br />
meant to reach the reader.<br />
Nevertheless, the focus of the present study is laid on the intricate ways of pleating<br />
stylistic functions, analyzing the artful manipulation that James exerts on the language<br />
used in the novel, with a view to discovering the stylistic effects created at <strong>text</strong> level and<br />
accounting for his being a step closer to the stream-of-consciousness linguistic techniques.<br />
The excerpts taken into consideration for analysis are grouped according to the<br />
purpose of the present study to prove how stylistic functions of the language pleat at the<br />
level of the <strong>text</strong> in order to create the desired impact on the reader. Another reason behind<br />
the grouping of the <strong>text</strong> is the need to show how James’s dependence on tradition and the<br />
linguistic cannon already turns into what the stream-of-consciousness represents. He takes<br />
a further step closer to the linguistic and graphological techniques involved in the <strong>text</strong>ual<br />
realization of the trend under discussion.<br />
Text 1. “Miss Overmore considered; she coloured a little; then she embraced her<br />
ingenious friend. ‘You are too sweet! I’m a real governess.’<br />
‘And couldn’t he be a real tutor?’<br />
‘Of course not. He’s ignorant and bad.’<br />
‘Bad – ?’ Maisie echoed with wonder.<br />
Her companion gave a queer little laugh at her tone. ‘He’s ever so much younger –<br />
’ But that was all.<br />
‘Younger than you?’<br />
Miss Overmore laughed again; it was the first time Maisie had seen her approach so<br />
nearly to a giggle. ‘Younger than – no matter whom. I don’t know anything about him and<br />
don’t want to,’ she rather inconsequently added. ‘He’s not my sort, and I’m sure, my own<br />
darling, he’s not yours.’ And she repeated the free caress into which her colloquies with<br />
Maisie almost always broke and which made the child feel that her affection at least was a<br />
gage of safety. Parents had seemed too vague, but governesses were evidently to be<br />
trusted. Maisie’s faith in Mrs. Wix, for instance, had suffered no lapse from the fact that all<br />
communication with her had temporarily dropped.” (James, 1985:59)<br />
Text 2. “‘You must allow me to reply to that,’ cried Mrs. Wix, ‘that you knew<br />
nothing of the sort, and that you rather basely failed to back me up last night when you<br />
pretended so plump that you did! You hoped in fact, exactly as much as I did and as in my<br />
senseless passion I even hope now, that this may be the beginning of better things.’<br />
Oh yes, Mrs. Wix was indeed, for the first time, sharp; so that there at last stirred in<br />
our heroine the sense not so much of being proved disingenuous as of being precisely<br />
accused of the meanness that had brought everything down on her through her very desire<br />
to shake herself clear of it. She suddenly felt herself swell with a passion of protest. ‘I<br />
never, never hoped I wasn’t going again to see Mrs. Beale! I didn’t, I didn’t!’ she repeated.<br />
Mrs. Wix bounced about with the force of rejoinder of which she also felt that she must<br />
anticipate the concussion and which, though the good lady was evidently charged to the<br />
brim, hung fire long enough to give time for an aggravation. ‘She’s beautiful and I love<br />
her! I love her and she’s beautiful!’” (p. 209)<br />
Text 3. “Here again they were delayed by another sharp thought of Mrs. Wix’s<br />
‘But what will she live on meanwhile?’<br />
Maisie stopped short. ‘Till Sir Claude comes?’<br />
108
It was nothing to the violence with which her friend had been arrested. ‘Who’ll pay<br />
the bills?’<br />
Maisie thought. ‘Can’t she?’<br />
‘She? She hasn’t a penny.’<br />
The child wondered. ‘But didn’t papa – ?’<br />
‘Leave her a fortune?’ Mrs. Wix would have appeared to speak of papa as dead had<br />
she not immediately added: ‘Why he lives on other women!’<br />
Oh, yes, Maisie remembered. ‘Then can’t he send – ?’ She faltered again; even to<br />
herself it sounded queer.<br />
‘Some of their money to his wife?’ Mrs. Wix gave a laugh still stranger than the<br />
weird suggestion. ‘I daresay she’d take it!’<br />
They hurried on again; yet again, on the stairs, Maisie pulled up. ‘Well, if she had<br />
stopped in England – !’ she threw out.<br />
Mrs. Wix considered. ‘And he had come over instead?’<br />
‘Yes, as we expected.’ Maisie launched her speculation. ‘What, then, would she<br />
have lived on?’<br />
Mrs. Wix hung fire but an instant. ‘On other men!’ And she marched downstairs.”<br />
(p. 224)<br />
The first group of three <strong>text</strong>s considered may be regarded as displaying the highest<br />
degree of James’s traditional dimension, although stream-of-consciousness techniques<br />
already ‘sabotage’ the <strong>text</strong>, in that the stylistic pleating of functions hinders meaning<br />
recovery on the part of the reader at times.<br />
Most of the vocabulary is formal, but intrusions of the consultative and the<br />
informal, corresponding to everyday conversation register especially in Masie’s lines and<br />
her interlocutors’, when engaged in speaking to the child. Thus, until is replaced by till and<br />
contracted forms work their way in the body of the formal <strong>text</strong>, e.g. I’m, couldn’t, He’s,<br />
don’t (Text 1); wasn’t, didn’t, She’s (Text 2); Who’ll pay the bills? (Text 3).<br />
The nouns in the <strong>text</strong>s reveal a subtle stylistic play upon the real world and the<br />
inner world of human thought and mind. In our case, the former is employed so as to<br />
identify Maisie’s relationships to other people and their place in her life, whereas the latter<br />
displays a rich array of needs, sensations, feelings and experiences that the child<br />
undergoes: friend, governess, tutor, wonder, companion, laugh, tone, giggle, caress,<br />
colloquies, child, affection, safety, gage, Parents, governesses, faith, lapse, fact,<br />
communication (Text 1); night, passion, things, heroine, sense, meanness, desire, protest,<br />
force, concussion, lady, brim, aggravation (Text 2); thought, violence, friend, bills, penny,<br />
child, papa, fortune, women, money, laugh, suggestion, stairs, speculation (Text 3).<br />
Along the same line of opposing inner universe to reality, the adjectives in the<br />
<strong>text</strong>s, apparently dominated by the graphologically marked real, are use to qualify parts of<br />
the child’s world as opposed to pieces of the real one, e.g. ingenious, sweet, real, ignorant,<br />
bad, queer, little, younger, free, vague (Text 1); senseless, better, sharp, disingenuous,<br />
swell, good, beautiful (Text 2); sharp, dead, queer, stranger, weird (Text 3). The obvious<br />
repetition of the synonymic series queer, stranger, weird may stylistically signal the<br />
child’s confusion about matters in the real world and her trying to grasp how things work.<br />
Moreover, the abundance of adverbs, either making up superlative degrees or<br />
setting space and time boundaries for actions, also serve the stylistic purpose of rendering<br />
the Maisie’s attempts to make sense of the real world, e.g. too, so much, ever, again,<br />
inconsequently, almost always, evidently, temporarily (Text 1); so, even, so much,<br />
precisely, very, never, again, evidently (Text 2); again, immediately (Text 3).<br />
109
The great number of verbs in the excerpts enhances the dynamic dimension of<br />
discourse, while also corresponding to the pattern of human speech, which makes up most<br />
of the body of the <strong>text</strong>s, e.g. considered, coloured, embraced, are, I’m, couldn’t he be,<br />
echoed, gave, was, laughed, had seen, approach, don’t know, don’t want, added, repeated,<br />
broke, made, feel, had seemed, were, to be, had suffered, had temporarily dropped (Text<br />
1); must, allow, to reply, knew, failed, to back me up, pretended, did, hoped, may be, was,<br />
stirred, had brought, to shake, felt, wasn’t going, to see, didn’t, repeated, bounced,<br />
anticipate, to give (Text 2); were, live, stopped, comes, was, had been arrested, pay,<br />
thought, Can’t, hasn’t, wondered, Leave, would have appeared, to speak, had she not<br />
immediately added, lives, remembered, can’t he send, faltered, sounded, hurried, pulled<br />
up, threw, expected, launched, hung, marched (Text 3). Thus, James takes a step further in<br />
depicting human behaviour as speech and thought.<br />
The sentence structure also observes the rules of human speech, i.e. the sentences<br />
are short, simple sentences most often. A clear distinction is imposed, as the authorial<br />
intrusions are marked by longer simple, compound or complex sentences.<br />
Furthermore, the human speech dimension of discourse is even better rendered by<br />
the elliptical sentences that seem to have suddenly been cut off, as interlocutors often break<br />
communication all of a sudden or are interrupted abruptly, e.g. ‘Of course not. He’s<br />
ignorant and bad.’ ‘Bad – ?’ Maisie echoed with wonder. Her companion gave a queer<br />
little laugh at her tone. ‘He’s ever so much younger – ’ But that was all. (Text 1); The<br />
child wondered. ‘But didn’t papa – ?’ ‘Then can’t he send – ?’ She faltered again; even to<br />
herself it sounded queer. ‘Well, if she had stopped in England – !’ she threw out. (Text 3).<br />
The disruptions register at a further graphological level, considering the choice of<br />
the author to write the three words in italics in the three fragments analyzed, e.g real,<br />
never, she. The option of the author in the con<strong>text</strong>s the words in italics are used is meant to<br />
emphasize the importance of the entity or concept in the narrative thread.<br />
Thus, much like Forster but taking a step closer to the stream-of-consciousness,<br />
James’s discourse displays the same linguistic battle between tradition and the cannon, on<br />
the one side, and the desire to set language free from any constraints.<br />
Disruptions of traditional discourse are more obvious with James at various levels of<br />
the <strong>text</strong>. Thus, the formal register is at times (violently) interrupted by intrusions of the<br />
informal up to the colloquial vocabulary, even insults.<br />
Moreover, the traditional long, well-formed sentences alternate with short, sometimes<br />
abruptly cut off simple sentences, which struggle to render human thought and speech.<br />
Graphological disruptions are not to be neglected either, as there are numerous<br />
instances of graphic emphasis achieved by the author’s use of italics for specific words that<br />
play an important role in the con<strong>text</strong> or that may help render the intonation of everyday<br />
speech.<br />
Last but definitely not least, James’s use of barbarisms and of what we dare call<br />
‘erudisms’, i.e. larger fragments encoded in foreign languages that disrupt the body of the<br />
English <strong>text</strong>, anticipates the complex Joycean encoding. The numerous <strong>text</strong>s in various<br />
foreign languages to be found in Joyce’s discourse represent the linguistic climax of<br />
selecting readership according to the knowledge they possess.<br />
BIBLIOGRAPHY<br />
Avădanei, Şt., Teaching (Literature) as a Literary Genre, “University English”, no.2, 1995.<br />
Bantaş, A., Descriptive English Syntax, Institutul European, Iaşi, 1996.<br />
Barry, P., Beginning Theory. An Introduction to Literary and Cultural Theory, Manchester University Press,<br />
Manchester and New York, 1995.<br />
Brooker, P. (ed), Modernism/Postmodernism, Longman, London and New York, 1992.<br />
Creţescu-Gogălniceanu, C., The Negotiator, Institutul European, Terra Design, Iaşi, 2001.<br />
110
Croft, S., Cross, H., Literature, Criticism and Style – A Practical Guide to Advanced English Literature,<br />
Oxford University Press, Oxford, 1997.<br />
Crystal, D., The Cambridge Encyclopedia of Language, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 1996.<br />
Ducrot, O., Schaeffer, J.-M., Noul dicţionar enciclopedic al ştiinţelor limbajului, Editura Babel, Bucureşti,<br />
1996.<br />
James, H., What Maisie Knew, Penguin Books, London, 1985.<br />
Leech, G., M. Short, Style in Fiction, Longman, London and New York, 1990, eighth impression.<br />
Praisler, M., On Modernism, Postmodernism and the Novel, Ed. Didactică şi Pedagogică, Bucureşti, 2005.<br />
Sandig, B., Selting, M., Discourse Styles, in “Discourse as Structure and Process”, vol. I, SAGE Publications,<br />
London, 1998.<br />
Wales, K., A Dictionary of Stylistics, Longman, London and New York, 1991, second impression.<br />
Abstract<br />
The essence of this approach finds itself in the complex ways of putting together the stylistic<br />
functions investigating the artistic manipulation by means of which Henry James influences the<br />
language he makes use of in this novel, trying to discover the stylistic effects created at the <strong>text</strong><br />
level and to consider which of these ways is the closest to the stream-of-consciousness technique.<br />
The fragments which were selected for analysis are grouped according to the aim of this<br />
approach, i.e., to reveal the assembling procedures of the language stylistic functions at <strong>text</strong> level<br />
in order to create a certain impact on the reader. The excerpts structuring is also accounted for<br />
by the necessity of showing how James’s depending upon the tradition of the linguistic canon has<br />
already become the essence of the stream-of-consciousness technique. One more step need to be<br />
taken to get closer to the graphic and linguistic techniques involved in the technical achievement<br />
of the trend in discussion.<br />
Resumé<br />
Le noyau de cette étude-ci est représenté des modalités complexes d’assembler les fonctions<br />
stylistiques, en analysant la manipulation artistique avec laquelle Henry James influence le<br />
langage utilisé dans le roman, en essayant de découvrir les effets stylistiques créés au niveau du<br />
<strong>text</strong>e, et de considérer qu’il est plus proche des techniques linguistiques du « stream-ofconsciousness<br />
». Les fragments choisis pour l’analyse sont groupés en conformité avec le but de<br />
cette étude-ci pour démontrer la modalité d’assemblage des fonctions stylistiques du langage au<br />
niveau du <strong>text</strong>e, pour créer l’impact désiré avec le lecteur. Un autre motive justifiant le groupage<br />
du <strong>text</strong>e est le besoin de montrer comme la dépendance de James de la tradition et du canon<br />
linguistique se transforme déjà en l’essence du « stream-of-consciousness ». Il fait encore un pas<br />
pour s’approcher aux techniques linguistiques et graphologiques impliquées dans la réalisation<br />
technique du courant en discussion.<br />
Rezumat<br />
Acest studiu are ca element esenţial analizarea complexelor modalităţi de asambalre a funcţiilor<br />
stilistice, analizând manipularea artistică prin care Henry James influenţează limba folsită în<br />
roman, încercând să descopere efecte stilistice create la nivelul <strong>text</strong>ului. Fragmentele selectate<br />
pentru analiză sunt grupate conform obiectivelor prezentului studiu, pentru a crea impactul dorit<br />
asupra cititorului. Un alt motiv care justifică gruparea propusă a <strong>text</strong>elor îl constituie nevoia de<br />
a descrie maniera în care dependenţa lui James de tradiţie şi de canonul lingvistic se transformă<br />
deja în esenţa tehnicii curentului de conştiinţă. Nu mai este nevoie decât de un pas pentru ca<br />
autorul să se apropie de tehnicile lingvistice şi grafice implicate în realizarea tehnicii curentului<br />
în discuţie.<br />
111
Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of GALAŢI<br />
Fascicle XIII. New Series.<br />
Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006<br />
pp. 112 - 118<br />
SINCERITY: TEXTUAL CLAIMS TO VALIDATION<br />
Daniela Ţuchel<br />
112<br />
Language<br />
and<br />
Literature<br />
Sincerity emerges in modernity as a moral quality in which the avoidance of<br />
dissembling is a positive virtue associated with plain speaking. Sincerity is congruence<br />
between avowal and actual feeling or a number of other definitions [1], ranging from a<br />
mere trustworthiness claim to the mapping of <strong>text</strong> onto thoughts. A possible framing of the<br />
whole issue is the interior state of S (the abbreviation to be read further down as<br />
sender/speaker of a message) matching an outward <strong>text</strong>ual form to be decoded by R (the<br />
abbreviation henceforth for recipient/reader of the encoded message). Problems connected<br />
with the not-exactly-linguistic notion of sincerity (except for pragmatic areas) are of a<br />
diverse nature.<br />
Sincerity is more easily discussed in public discourse, being based on solid <strong>text</strong>ual<br />
evidence. For ordinary verbal intercourse, it is ungraspable, unless paralinguistic factors<br />
contribute to guesswork in this respect. For the <strong>text</strong> of newspaper articles, there are<br />
additional difficulties of diagnosis, unless we pick on some more special manifestations,<br />
such as, let us say, scare-quotes. As for who they are intended to scare, an example will<br />
suffice: “[...] explicit, analytical, retrievable and ‘scientific’ procedures”. If they are<br />
intentional and strategically placed, the single quotes around one particular attribute will<br />
cast doubt on the truthful content thus marked off, and one can even suspect irony.<br />
Actually, when a writer disagrees, (s)he should stand by what they write and be sincere<br />
with no need for words in quotation marks, except the convention to underline by means<br />
of them.<br />
In prose literature, the printed word amounts to nothing more than a mimetic<br />
illusion of speech and thought. Biber and Finegan [2] state that they have chosen to<br />
exclude third person reference when analysing affective language to convey the emotion at<br />
hand. They claim the third person presentation is primarily descriptive rather than directly<br />
expressive of the speaker’s own feelings. It seems, however, reasonable to avoid making<br />
such a distinction with prose literature, as all the utterances or thoughts of the characters,<br />
be they presented in first or third person, are an artifice, an expression of the author’s<br />
‘intent’, not that of the character at hand.<br />
Maybe it is not misplaced to attempt a precis of more recent research on sincerity<br />
values in literary or non-literary communication. The co-authors cited above have studied<br />
the lexical and grammatical marking of two concepts: evidentiality and affect. By the<br />
former term, they refer to a speaker’s attitude to knowledge and its reliability. They use<br />
the latter term in the same way as in another co-authored study of the same year [3], which<br />
makes a powerful plea for the emotive force of language, without offering, however, a<br />
model of application. Affect - Ochs and Schieffelin explain - is broader in meaning than<br />
emotion. Affect includes feelings, moods, dispositions and attitudes with persons or<br />
situations. The authors are mainly concerned with the display of affect through linguistic<br />
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<br />
that is variable is a candidate for expressing affect: in other words, language has a heart as<br />
well as a mind of its own” [ibidem].<br />
The kind of performance that will be credited as sincere is generally assessed as such<br />
or as its opposite by some common-sense criteria that cannot also perform linguistic work.<br />
It is only for pragmatics to say that (a) an utterance can be deemed valid or invalid, and (b)<br />
validity will be judged in terms of three claims: (1) truth; (2) appropriateness; (3) sincerity.<br />
At this point, in the relation between S and R, one takes into account the display of<br />
trustworthiness. Claims to sincerity are the most difficult to guarantee since they implicate<br />
a match between the outward form of the utterance and the speaker’s interior state.<br />
Habermas [4] comments that truth and appropriateness may be validated implicitly<br />
or explicitly by negotiation through discursive activity, while sincerity has to be taken on<br />
trust – it is vindicated or validated only by the subsequent behaviour of S.<br />
Halliday [5] continues Habermas’s distinctions, and, by combining the findings of<br />
both linguists, here is a summary model of how the conduct of reason in social life<br />
functions towards communication. Inside we can see the way sincerity fits.<br />
1) Domain of reality: external nature; mode of communication: cognitive;<br />
validity claim: truth; general function: representation of facts.<br />
2) Domain of reality: social world; mode of communication: interactive;<br />
validity claim: appropriateness / felicity; general function: establishment and maintenance<br />
of relations.<br />
3) Domain of reality: world of intentions; mode of communication:<br />
expressive; validity claim: sincerity; general function: disclosure of speaker subjectivity.<br />
Achieving a relation to speech acts, the result is that representatives (for instance,<br />
asserting, denying, concluding) foreground the claim to truth; directives (suggesting,<br />
demanding, requesting) and declaratives, which effect immediate changes in institutional<br />
states-of-affairs (excommunicating, christening, passing sentence), foreground the claim to<br />
appropriateness; commissives, which commit the speaker to some future course of action<br />
(promising, offering, threatening), and expressives, which express a psychological state<br />
(apologizing, thanking, welcoming), will implicate most strongly the claim to sincerity.<br />
In Goffman’s terms [6], there is a participation framework of a complex nature,<br />
meaning that S in each particular case speaks at moments for others (in particular, for an<br />
audience) as well as for himself or herself. S adopts a shifting mode of address. For<br />
example, a politician speaks most of the time to the nation, even to the world beyond, and<br />
sometimes to reporters, etc. Any straightforward statement of emotion by S is likely to put<br />
sincerity at risk. It is perhaps interesting to mention the following case in fiction that, to<br />
some, may approximate sincerity: there is no controlling voice, there is an withholding of<br />
<strong>text</strong>ual manifestations of a <strong>full</strong> authorial persona. Thus, the author exploits the separation<br />
of the discourse worlds while he himself refrains from creating the illusion of cooperative<br />
presence. Sometimes it is easier for a <strong>text</strong> interpreter R to focus on the cognitive process of<br />
reading a fictional <strong>text</strong> as part of a language event rather than focusing exclusively on the<br />
ontological status of the fictional world constructed in reading.<br />
It is also generally accepted that some genres lend themselves to a discussion about<br />
their sincerity content, while others do not. Some genres also lend a high valency to<br />
sincerity and others do not. Researchers interested in radio shows, television and theatre<br />
apprehend the sincerity paradox when discussing the following situation: if a person’s<br />
behaviour is perceived by others as performance, it will be judged to be insincere, for<br />
sincerity presupposes, as its general condition, the absence of performance. Laboratory<br />
reports and legal cross-examinations will not routinely implicate sincerity, but the<br />
exchange of vows in a wedding ceremony does. Joking is a genre unlikely to be judged as<br />
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sincere, but a eulogy may be. Ultimately, there must be common-sense, in all probability,<br />
used as a recognizable criterion for the kind of performance that will be credited as<br />
sincere.<br />
Irony is a hard nut to crack for the present thematic concern, for it relies on an<br />
apprehension of the indirect criticism which is indeed expected to be transmitted in<br />
sincerity. Sperber and Wilson [7] come with the following example of ironic<br />
manifestation: in a shop, a furious customer is observed as such and commented upon –<br />
you can tell he’s upset, says a bystander. Sperber and Wilson take this to be<br />
understatement as a type of irony, and we remember that the definition of understatement<br />
is to say less than is reasonable in the given situation of communication. We can claim that<br />
the definition applies here, for the anger is strikingly obvious; the commentary beginning<br />
with you can tell is, in a way, naively inadequate, but it is more interesting pragmatically<br />
to maintain that it is an ironic use of understatement. If S assigned the utterance you can<br />
tell that X to a situation when normally the signs of X are barely discernible, S would<br />
sooner be interpreted as speaking literally. Thus, in the former case of problem-solving, S<br />
is covertly disagreeing, and, in the latter case, S is openly and sincerely involved in a<br />
literal communicative act.<br />
Two felt experiences, motivation and intention, are, as a rule, anticipated to be<br />
sincere. The dictionary entry ‘intenţie’ (lat. intentio) elaborated by Mihai Stroe in Pîrvu [8]<br />
defines this basic concept for dealing with sincerity as a semantic and ontologic vector<br />
relating to the feature ‘whatever is directed to something’ and coins the Romanian term<br />
despreitate (a derivation of the preposition ‘despre’). After reviewing the major landmarks<br />
in a theolological-intentionalist theory threading its way through (to quote only a few)<br />
Anaxagoras, Empedocles, Boethius, Avicenna, Bacon, Descartes, Newton, Darwin, Kant,<br />
Blake, Hegel, Bergson, Mihai Stroe stops upon the American New Criticism,<br />
recommending the technique of ‘close reading’. Thus the intentional fallacy can be<br />
circumvented; it is erroneous to judge a literary work according to the author’s intention as<br />
long as nothing is relevant but the work itself. The work belongs to the public (Wimsatt,<br />
Beardsley, ibidem) and it is only through it that the public can assess authorial intentions.<br />
It is fundamental, in this undertaking, to distinguish between an original meaning of the<br />
<strong>text</strong> and an anachronistic meaning – subsequent interpretation projected onto the <strong>text</strong><br />
through historical distancing.<br />
If we take emotion to be public and feeling to be private, then the latter term –<br />
feeling – can be explained as bodily arousal in the consciousness of the speaker, whereas<br />
the former – emotion – can be looked upon as the correlation between the bodily arousal<br />
and the circumstance or situation. Emotions, in their turn, will be subdivided into primary<br />
ones (they are innate) and secondary (socially constituted through cultural resources). The<br />
expression of emotions needs happen in sincerity as long as emotions are inferential signs<br />
with a major role in cognition.<br />
Following psychological practice, emotions and evaluations have the status of<br />
affect and are construals of experience on various scales of positive and negative values. At<br />
least evaluation always sets up an opposition in this respect: cases may be good or bad,<br />
desirable or undesirable, loveable or hateful. As Burke [9] writes, negation is “a peculiarly<br />
linguistic marvel” as “there are no negatives in nature”. To evaluate anything positively<br />
involves the exclusion of the possibility that what does not exit might exist and vice versa.<br />
Negation is not only a matter of form, it is an evaluative, epistemic and deontic action,<br />
forbidding, stipulating, affirming or denying. The negated is in a dialectical relation to<br />
what is asserted. Negation brings up the rejected opposite, the irrealis, the mere possibility<br />
of the other. This possibility is felt, and the more intense the affect, the stronger the<br />
negated alternative. Let us approach sincerity in a few subtle attitudinal biases. We say, for<br />
114
example, it is pretty bad, which does not imply that something is good, but it is a weaker<br />
claim than it is very bad. We say it is not too bad, which does imply that the object<br />
described is at the good end of the polarity scale. It understates, at the same time, an<br />
impolite belief: “I anticipated that what you did would be bad”. Honesty or sincerity lies in<br />
understating things or generating the figure of speech known as litotes, the reason for its<br />
occurrence in speech ultimately being understood by R to be a mild variant of praise<br />
(politeness) or a covert form of unfavourable opinion derived by implicature<br />
(impoliteness). Disambiguation of what is essentially and sincerely communicated is<br />
worked out by the exophoric details of the situation. S would have had at his disposal the<br />
possibility of not underplaying meanings while saying it is good enough, where only a<br />
concessive attitude is contained and no indirect hurt. This is what is effected pragmatically<br />
when the negatively evaluative adverb too gets replaced by the positively evaluative<br />
adverb enough.<br />
Conversational routine usually carries out phatic intentions with the avoidance of<br />
embarrassment; there are certain expectations of participants, but sincerity is not the most<br />
pressing problem. Let us exemplify with the following case: the opener How are you? (or<br />
any other alternative cliche, Is everything all right? How’s life? etc.) may reflect genuine<br />
interest if and only if supported by some other elements, for instance, insistence to find out<br />
more. It seems that, unlike the common English expression, the Romanian ce mai faci<br />
easily triggers a response that is a description of the addressee’s momentary condition. A<br />
close relationship even requires more than a positive short answer [10] and the story of the<br />
addressee’s latest mishap expects consolation as an expression of social harmony.<br />
At the same time, a negative response to the opening question can be expressed by<br />
inarticulate sounds or by gestures. For example, one may hear a prolonged /m/ sound in a<br />
falling tone, with a shrug of shoulders, a double rock of the dominant hand, a slight roll of<br />
the eyes. This could be received in the place of a (moderately) negative answer in words.<br />
One possible interpretation is that the addressee does not want to complain but also needs<br />
to be sincere about not being very well.<br />
Laughter is another type of response that is con<strong>text</strong>ually interpretable as sincerity or<br />
its opposite. A variety of social occasions for its occurrence can be described as the end of<br />
self-disclosing and painful stories, funny or idiotic moments in a talk, surprise and<br />
amusement during an utterance, and so on. Laughter may result in the maintenance of a<br />
collaborative floor and it usually signals sincere and active participation, continual<br />
involvement, while not committing the addressees to speak in their turn.<br />
One of the speech acts to pre-condition sincerity with priority is complimenting the<br />
interlocutor. Broadly defined, a compliment is an expression of praise or positive regard.<br />
There have been studies to research the following aspects: the most frequent syntactic<br />
patterns; the attributes praised more insistently; the most appropriate verbal responses to<br />
compliments; the relationship between the giver and the recipient of the compliment;<br />
similarities and differences in this respect across cultures and continents. Let us sum up the<br />
findings for each aspect.<br />
Compliments generally fall into one of the following three patterns: Noun Phrase +<br />
is/looks + Adjectival Phrase (e.g. Your essay is great), I + like/love + Noun Phrase (e.g. I<br />
love your haircut), Pronominal form + is + Modifier + Noun Phrase (e.g. These are<br />
delicious cookies). Socialites prefer to compliment physical appearance and abilities first,<br />
work and study next, and the form they adopt can lead to a classification of compliments<br />
into: (a) direct vs. indirect, (b) specific vs. general, (c) normal vs. amplified lengths, (d)<br />
including a comparison vs. no comparison. As for the last mentioned point, it has been<br />
noted that comparisons are preferably exchanged between individuals of the same sex and<br />
in a close, rather than distant, relationship. Another important observation is that there is a<br />
115
tendency to give appreciation to those details of personal appearance that are the result of<br />
deliberate effort, not simply a manifestation of natural attractiveness. Besides, this is<br />
particularly the case when females compliment other females. Males tend to compliment<br />
more on personality traits, some of which being loyalty, kindness, intelligence. Precisely<br />
due to a possible interpretation of insincerity, it has been found that by repeatedly<br />
complimenting someone in an attempt to be friendly, S may trigger the unwanted effect of<br />
discomfort and withdrawal of the person complimented. In case sincerity in the<br />
complimenter acquires validity in the eyes of R, the latter can adopt one of the following<br />
strategies: thanking and agreeing; thanking and returning the compliment; joking; doubting<br />
the praiseworthiness; denigrating the object of praise; merely commenting on the history of<br />
the object; no acknowledgement (shifting the topic or no response), etc.<br />
As a rule, complimenting is a positive politeness strategy. It answers the<br />
expectation of being complimented when the person has made efforts to improve<br />
appearance, performance of some sort or to obtain a new possession. That person may feel<br />
disappointed, even upset, if this is not taken into account or merely noticed, so as to<br />
become a complimentee. Actually, the complimentee seems to be ‘forced’, in the social<br />
comedy that is being played, to accept the favour of the compliment and to express<br />
gratitude, since a rejection of it (although a possible strategy when performed<br />
‘insincerely’) runs counter to the positive face of the complimenter. This is an interesting<br />
conclusion. “Although seemingly beneficial to the complimentee, complimenting<br />
potentially threatens the complimentee’s face. The compliment obliges her/him to repay<br />
the debt in some way” [11]. The indebting nature of compliments is discussed by many<br />
researchers, including Brown and Levinson, because the analysed speech act, if sincere,<br />
expresses envy or admiration, thus indicating that the compliment-payer likes or would<br />
like something belonging to the compliment-recipient/R. As a result, the latter takes action<br />
either to protect the object of the praise or to offer it to the complimenter/S (for instance,<br />
Arabic interlocutors make a ritual out of the offering of thecomplimented object and do not<br />
literally take the object).<br />
It often happens (in any speech community) that participants engage - with<br />
sincerity or fake sincerity - in a remedial verbal action upon committing an offence, in a<br />
word, to apologize. Speech communities differ in what counts as an offence, then in the<br />
severity of the same offensive event, and afterwards in the appropriate compensation.<br />
Apologies are carried out by a set of strategies, like every other type of verbal interaction.<br />
To ‘make it go away’, S can either offer an explicit apology and/or assume responsibility,<br />
first and foremost. Besides, the apologetic person can upgrade the force of the speech act,<br />
downgrade the severity of the offence, downgrade his own responsibility, offer repair, and<br />
so on. R will rightly ask themselves whether all such is uttered with sincerity of feeling.<br />
Maybe some con<strong>text</strong>-internal factors can decide upon its presence or lack. There is a direct<br />
way of influencing – with these factors – the choice of the apologetic formula, its<br />
intensification and its occurrence into one of two patterns: apology + account and apology<br />
+ offer of compensation. The decisive con<strong>text</strong>-external factors are social power and social<br />
distance. Correlations can be established in the following ways: (a) the lower the<br />
offender’s status, the more he will feel inclined to apologize to the offended with an<br />
explicit formula; (b) the closer the interlocutors, the more likely the offender will expressly<br />
assume responsibility. The conformity to these social regulations of behaviour can pass for<br />
sincerity in the relationship.<br />
Cross-culturally, distinctions are numerous and baffling sometimes, such as in the<br />
case of ‘contrary-to-face-value’ messages. Understanding grows in importance when what<br />
S says does not prize face-value sincerity, but H’s ability to read between the lines or<br />
decode the message from a holistic, con<strong>text</strong>-based perspective. The contributions that are<br />
116
contrary-to-face-value are looked into by pragmaticists for an inner motivation: to say “no”<br />
instead of “yes” for avoiding another person’s disadvantage (an other-service answer)<br />
while simultaneously maintaining a desirable good rapport (the self-service).<br />
To discuss, therefore, self-serving and other-serving as related to ‘face’ is a practice<br />
of sincerity because those two categories are not mutually exclusive. For the sake of<br />
illustration, we can build up the situation of communication in which N. offers a ride to M.<br />
when it is raining and M. does not have a car; M. definitely needs the ride, but replies by<br />
saying, No, thanks, I don’t want to be too much trouble. If M. speaks haltingly or<br />
undecidedly, N. will know that he should not take the words literally and that the negative<br />
answer is a way of being considerate. The following situation is worth looking into: during<br />
a dinner party, the guests kept complimenting the hostess for the food served, but the<br />
response was the ‘no’ type (Oh, no, the dishes were not so well-prepared). It was plain that<br />
she wanted to make the guests feel comfortable and to avoid throwing light upon the long<br />
hours spent while preparing the meal. Both the situations described above are of the type<br />
saying ‘no’ for ‘yes’ and other-serving.<br />
Saying ‘yes’ for ‘no’ and other-serving (or, instead of the affirmative particle, headnodding<br />
will do) illustrates the fact the communicators are harmony-oriented and avoid<br />
confrontation. An easy way to distinguish an authentic ‘yes’ from a fake one is the<br />
observation of the level of enthusiasm manifested by S.<br />
When ‘no’ for ‘yes’ and self-serving is the case, it will be received as a lie. The<br />
utterance is contrary to the truth in order to avoid punishment (The drunk said, No, I didn’t<br />
knock the window to pieces). In the following situation ‘yes’ is for ‘no’ and self-serving: a<br />
man in order to increase his credibility lies to his partners that he is going to an important<br />
meeting, but he is not invited to any such event. Thus, this is a simple deceptive<br />
communicative act, strategically misleading in a conscious way.<br />
In sum, contrary-to-face-value communication is strategic and manipulative, while there<br />
are cultural practices for decoding the message in the right, ‘sincere’ (that is, truthful) way.<br />
It is a matter of communication competence and it takes an insider’s perspective on<br />
con<strong>text</strong>ual clues.<br />
Face-saving manoeuvres accommodate a number of speech acts, not only those under<br />
scrutiny here, and possibly some involving lengthy negotiations, in which partners develop<br />
an interest in the presence of sincerity. Ultimately, though Searle himself states that there is<br />
no sincerity requirement for greetings, for instance, even those have been found to exhibit<br />
both sincere and insincere attitudes. Grice’s whole theory has been built on a notion of<br />
‘benevolence’, so maybe it is too much to expect absolute sincerity as well. Against the<br />
risks of idealization, it can be enough to say that the major concern should be the<br />
possibility of everyone, Ss and Rs, to cooperate linguistically and nothing more.<br />
At present, the methodologies of cross-fertilizing disciplines of study [12] have<br />
opened the way to the tolerant ‘dialoguing’ between authors and their commentators,<br />
exploring aspects of life, language and literature, where a sincere positioning is expected.<br />
Sincere communicators, ultimately, resist the temptation to resolve differences between<br />
them artificially. The diversity of positions helps identify tensions which can be negotiated<br />
without impinging upon sincerity.<br />
REFERENCES<br />
[1] Ţuchel, D. (2004). Pragmatics Primer. Bucureşti: Editura Didactică şi Pedagogică R.A., p. 21.<br />
[2] Biber, D. and Finegan, E. (1989). “Styles of Stance in English: Lexical and Grammatical Marking of<br />
Evidentiality and Affect”. Text. 9 / 1 (pp. 93-124).<br />
[3] Ochs, E. and Schieffelin, B. (1989). “Language Has a Heart”. Text. 9 / 1 (pp. 7-25).<br />
117
[4] Habermas, J. (1979). “Universal Pragmatics”. J.Habermas (ed.) Communication and the Evolution of<br />
Society. Boston, MA: Beacon Press (pp. 1-68).<br />
[5] Halliday, M.A.K. (1985). An Introduction to Functional Grammar. London: Edward Arnold.<br />
[6] Goffman, E. (1981). Forms of Talk. Oxford: Basil Blackwell.<br />
[7] Sperber, D. and Wilson, D. (1986). Relevance: Communication and Cognition. Oxford: Blackwell.<br />
[8] Pîrvu, B.S. (2005). Dicţionar de genetică literară. Iaşi: Institutul European (pp. 111-117).<br />
[9] Burke, K. (1961). The Rhetoric of Religion. Boston MA: Beacon Press (p.19).<br />
[10] Pietreanu, M. (1984). Salutul în limba română. Bucureşti: Editura Ştiinţifică şi Enciclopedică.<br />
[11] Chen, R. (1993). “Responding to compliments”. Journal of Pragmatics. 20 (58).<br />
[12] Bamberg, M. and Andrews, M. (2004). Considering Counter-Narratives. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John<br />
Benjamins Publishing Company.<br />
Abstract<br />
A definition of sincerity as a claim to trustworthiness simultaneously involves a correct<br />
match of outward form and interior state of the speaker. There is a broad<br />
correspondence, which will be discussed and illustrated, between sincerity and a<br />
number of speech acts, as well as between sincerity and discourse types.<br />
Résumé<br />
La sincérité peut être définie comme un rapport de confiance entre l’émetteur et le<br />
récepteur. En même temps, il faut réaliser une concordance aussi juste que possible<br />
entre la forme de l’expression et la condition emotionnelle de l’émetteur. Le sujet de cet<br />
article est la sincérité de certains actes de langage et celle de certains types de<br />
discours.<br />
Rezumat<br />
Dacă se defineşte sinceritatea ca un raport de încredere între emiţător şi receptor,<br />
concomitent se face trimitere la o corelare justă între forma de exprimare şi starea<br />
emoţională a emiţătorului. Discuţia în articolul de faţă şi exemplele invocate vizează<br />
sinceritatea anumitor acte de vorbire şi a anumitor tipuri de discurs.<br />
118
Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of GALAŢI<br />
Fascicle XIII. New Series.<br />
Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006<br />
pp. 119 - 123<br />
119<br />
Language<br />
and<br />
Literature<br />
LA CONFIGURATION DE L’UNIVERS TEXTUEL : COHERENCE ET<br />
COHESION<br />
Angelica Vâlcu<br />
La cohérence <strong>text</strong>uelle constitue un objet d’étude fondamental dans la linguistique<br />
<strong>text</strong>uelle. Notre communication a pour objectif l’analyse de divers aspects concernant<br />
l’organisation et de la structuration interne d’un <strong>text</strong>e par le biais des moyens linguistiques<br />
et discursifs spécifiques à la cohésion et à la cohérence <strong>text</strong>uelles. Ces moyens – la<br />
progression thématique, les relations anaphoriques, les isotopies, les connecteurs - peuvent<br />
être repérés dans le <strong>text</strong>e sous leur forme de surface ou sous leur forme de profondeur. Ce<br />
qui nous conduit à développer une telle démarche c’est la propriété du discours qui fait<br />
que tous les segments qui le composent soient liés sémantiquement les uns aux autres,<br />
autrement dit sa cohérence.<br />
Le <strong>text</strong>e est considéré, d’une manière générale, comme un support langagier<br />
spécifique, comme un ensemble de phrases ou d’énoncés qui forment la trace d’un discours<br />
ancré dans un con<strong>text</strong>e d’énonciation. Harald Weinrich (1973) considère le <strong>text</strong>e « un<br />
réseau de déterminations », «un tout où chaque élément entretient avec les autres des<br />
relations d’interdépendance ». Ces éléments, soutient ce grammairien, ou groupes<br />
d’éléments se suivent « en ordre cohérent et consistant, chaque segment <strong>text</strong>uel compris<br />
contribuant à l’intelligibilité de celui qui suit. Ce dernier à son tour, une fois décodé, vient<br />
éclairer rétrospectivement le précédent » [1] (Weinrich, H., 1973 : 22)<br />
Selon M. Riegel et all.« la cohérence est une propriété du discours, qui est mis en<br />
relation avec les conditions d’énonciation, alors que la cohésion est une propriété du <strong>text</strong>e,<br />
qui est envisagé fermé sur lui-même. Ainsi, les jugements de cohérence dépendent des<br />
connaissances du monde et de la situation, qui sont partagées ou non par l’énonciateur et<br />
son destinataire, alors que la cohésion du <strong>text</strong>e s’évalue en fonction de l’organisation<br />
sémantique interne » [2](Riegel, M.,1994 : 605)<br />
Dominique Maingueneau (1996) considère que la cohésion résulte de<br />
l'enchaînement des propositions, de la linéarité du <strong>text</strong>e, tandis que la cohérence s'appuie<br />
sur la cohésion mais fait aussi intervenir des contraintes globales, non linéaires, attachées<br />
au con<strong>text</strong>e. « Analyser la cohésion d'un <strong>text</strong>e, c'est l'appréhender comme un<br />
enchaînement, comme une <strong>text</strong>ure, [...] où des phénomènes linguistiques très divers font à<br />
la fois progresser le <strong>text</strong>e et assurent sa continuité par des répétitions. Mais un <strong>text</strong>e peut<br />
exhiber les signes d'une cohésion parfaite sans pour autant être cohérent. Pour qu'un <strong>text</strong>e<br />
soit dit cohérent, il doit être rapporté à une intention globale, [...] La cohérence passe<br />
aussi par l'identification du thème du <strong>text</strong>e, de quoi il traite, à l'intérieur d'un certain<br />
univers (fictif, historique, théorique ...) ».[3](Maingueneau, 1990 :32)<br />
Mais il ne sert à rien de relever les marqueurs de cohérence d'un <strong>text</strong>e si l'on ne<br />
peut déterminer, en même temps, s'ils sont en quantité suffisante ou s'ils ont été utilisés<br />
d’une manière appropriée. Il faudrait, donc, ajouter à la liste des procédés de cohérence<br />
établie par les grammairiens du <strong>text</strong>e, des critères d'évaluation qui nous permettent de
epérer les défauts de cohérence d'un <strong>text</strong>e, d'en trouver la cause, d'expliciter notre<br />
jugement et de proposer une correction appropriée.<br />
C’est pourquoi, à partir des travaux de Lorraine Pépin de l’Université du Québec<br />
[4] nous avons essayé d’analyser quelques défauts de la cohérence <strong>text</strong>uelle, défauts reliés<br />
à la cohésion <strong>text</strong>uelle. Lorraine Pépin propose une typologie des défauts de cohérence<br />
<strong>text</strong>uelle en analysant la cohésion, l'étagement ou hiérarchisation (le regroupement des<br />
informations, leur ordre de présentation, leur coordination, leur articulation, l'annonce<br />
explicite de leur organisation hiérarchique, etc.) et ce qu’elle appelle « la résolution<br />
incertaine » (juxtaposition des informations, mauvaise organisation des informations,<br />
imprécision des informations, déviation des informations, retard des informations, etc.).<br />
Le <strong>text</strong>e se déroule dans le temps ce qui fait que, d’une phrase à l’autre, soit<br />
absolument nécessaire le rappel de ce dont on vient de parler, à savoir la cohésion<br />
thématique, et en même temps, le rappel de la signification de ce que l’on vient d’en dire,<br />
c’est - à - dire la cohésion sémantique.<br />
Les procédés qui garantissent la cohésion d’un <strong>text</strong>e sont classifiés en deux sousgroupes<br />
:<br />
a) la récurrence, la coréférence, la contiguïté sémantique, le parallélisme<br />
sémantique, le contraste sémantique et la résonance qui portent la trace thématique ou<br />
sémantique de ce qui vient d’être dit ;<br />
b) la jonction (liaison par connecteurs) qui assure la cohésion en désignant le sens<br />
d’une relation entre deux phrases.<br />
On peut parler de la cohésion d’un <strong>text</strong>e si ces traces peuvent être reconnues par les<br />
lecteurs et si elles sont suffisamment visibles d’une phrase à l’autre. Nous nous arrêterons<br />
seulement sur quelques-uns des procédés mentionnés ci-dessus. Et pour cela nous allons<br />
analyser des exemples de carences de cohésion liés au parallélisme sémantique, au<br />
contraste sémantique et à la résonance.<br />
Le parallélisme sémantique désigne une correspondance sémantique biunivoque<br />
entre les syntagmes comparables de deux phrases, correspondance qui met en relief les<br />
ressemblances et les dissemblances entre ces deux phrases. Si l’on n’applique pas<br />
complètement ce procédé du parallélisme sémantique, on jette dans l’oubli les informations<br />
contenues dans la première phrase, informations non reprises dans la deuxième phrase de<br />
la paire et donc inutiles.<br />
Prenons quelques exemples :<br />
1. L’informatique est un domaine essentiel pour le développement d’un pays mais<br />
les équipements en sont très chers. Est-il naturel que l’informaticien ait un salaire plus<br />
grand que le directeur de l’entreprise?<br />
Ex.1. a) – variante proposée : L’informatique est un domaine essentiel pour le<br />
développement d’un pays mais très cher. Est-il naturel que l’informaticien [et ici on<br />
pourra ajouter : « doive mettre au point la structure informationnelle de toute l’unité<br />
économique» pour établir un parallèle avec le mot essentiel] et qu’il ait un salaire plus<br />
grand qu’un directeur d’entreprise? [mis en rapport avec très cher].<br />
Ex. 2. Le directeur d’entreprise conduit, chaque jour, toute l’activité économique<br />
de l’entreprise tandis que l’informaticien dirige seulement le secteur informationnel. .<br />
2. a) – variante possible : Le directeur d’entreprise conduit, chaque jour, toute<br />
l’activité économique de l’entreprise tandis que l’informaticien dirige seulement le<br />
secteur informationnel [on peut ajouter : en y intervenant lorsqu’il est nécessaire et mettre<br />
ainsi en correspondance avec chaque jour].<br />
A la suite de la lecture des corrigés proposés en (1.a) et (2.a) on se rend compte de<br />
l’application du parallélisme sémantique dans la deuxième phrase des paires de phrases de<br />
(1) et de (2). On observe que les syntagmes ajoutés ont pour conséquence la mise en valeur<br />
120
de tout ce qui a été dit dans la première phrase et ces rattachements peuvent se constituer<br />
soit en un simple rappel soit en une explication [voir l’exemple (1)] ou en une mise en<br />
opposition [voir l’exemple (2)].<br />
Un autre procédé qui assure la cohésion d’un <strong>text</strong>e est lié à l’application correcte du<br />
contraste sémantique. Le contraste sémantique met en évidence une opposition<br />
sémantique déjà manifestée entre deux phrases ; c’est à l’aide de l’antonymie que se réalise<br />
l’opposition sémantique entre deux termes essentiels de ces phrases.<br />
Ex. 3. Marie est une jeune fille très délicate. Cependant, souvent elle accomplit des<br />
tâches avec beaucoup d’énergie.<br />
Dans l’exemple ci-dessus l’opposition manifestée déjà par le connecteur cependant<br />
est reprise, confirmée et soutenue par l’emploi de l’antonymie des mots délicate et avec<br />
énergie.<br />
Il y a des cas où le contraste sémantique est redondant parce que le sens qu’il<br />
exprime est donné déjà dans la deuxième phrase, et d’autres cas où il est essentiel.<br />
Ex. 4. Marc est parfois déplaisant. Pourtant, aujourd’hui il s’est montré aimable en<br />
offrant des fleurs à son amie.<br />
L’exemple nous permet d’observer la redondance par le fait que le sens du mot<br />
aimable est déjà suggéré par le syntagme offrir des fleurs.<br />
Lorraine Pépin soutient que l’application du contraste sémantique est essentielle à<br />
la compréhension d’une opposition entre deux phrases surtout lorsque cette opposition est<br />
faiblement exprimée et alors il faut absolument la renforcer. Pour illustrer ses dires, elle<br />
donne les exemples :<br />
Ex. 5. Dans ma famille, nous sommes des gens bien ordinaires. Mais grâce aux<br />
nombreuses années passées dans le monde de la politique, mes parents et moi avons<br />
acquis un sens de la critique et de la tolérance très élevé.<br />
5. a) variante proposée : Dans ma famille, nous sommes des gens bien ordinaires.<br />
Mais grâce aux nombreuses années passées dans le monde de la politique, mes parents et<br />
moi avons acquis un sens de la critique et de la tolérance extraordinaire ou hors du<br />
commun. (On a ajouté les mots soulignés pour mettre en contraste avec le syntagme gens<br />
bien ordinaires et pour remémorer cette expression. L’adverbe très élevé est trop faible<br />
pour soutenir l’opposition exprimée par Mais).<br />
Ex. 6. Suite de l'exemple précédent : Mais grâce aux nombreuses années passées<br />
dans le monde de la politique, mes parents et moi avons acquis un sens de la critique et de<br />
la tolérance très élevé. Pourtant, vers le mois de janvier, nous apprenions que les<br />
hockeyeurs demandaient un plus gros salaire.<br />
6. a) variante proposée : Mais grâce aux nombreuses années passées dans le monde<br />
de la politique, mes parents et moi avons acquis un sens de la critique et de la tolérance<br />
très élevé. Pourtant, c’est avec indignation que …vers le mois de janvier, nous apprenions<br />
que les hockeyeurs demandaient un plus gros salaire. (On a ajouté le syntagme souligné<br />
pour le mettre en contraste avec tolérance et de cette manière on comprendra mieux<br />
l’opposition annoncée par Pourtant. Par le défaut du contraste sémantique pourtant mettra<br />
en opposition deux énoncés qui ne sont pas comparables : 1) Nous sommes tolérants et 2)<br />
(pourtant) nous avons appris telle nouvelle.<br />
Un troisième facteur de cohésion et implicitement de cohérence <strong>text</strong>uelle est lié au<br />
phénomène de résonance discursive. La résonance consiste en l’utilisation de termes<br />
disjoints : moi,…je, pour ma part…, Marie, elle..., Jean, quant à lui …etc. Ce procédé<br />
assure la continuité thématique lorsque les exigences de la progression du discours<br />
nécessitent l’introduction des thèmes nouveaux.<br />
Ex. 7. Marie lit beaucoup, Hélène, elle aime la peinture.<br />
121
Dans cet exemple il n’est pas du tout nécessaire d’en lire davantage pour se rendre<br />
compte que Marie et Hélène sont liées. Les termes disjoints Hélène, elle…évoquent<br />
obligatoirement, par résonance, la présence d’un autre dans la phrase antérieure et par cela<br />
on soutient la continuité thématique. L’emploi des termes disjoints a pour but la correction<br />
des ruptures thématiques dans les chaînes discursives ; la résonance est réclamée lors des<br />
changements brusques de la thématique.<br />
Ex. 8. Max rentra dans un café et s’assit à une table...etc. Sa femme fila au<br />
supermarché pour acheter des…etc.<br />
8.a) on pourrait dire : Sa femme, elle, fila au… ou Quant à sa femme…ayant en<br />
vue la rupture thématique (le rhème).<br />
Ex. 9 Selon une enquête faite récemment auprès des Canadiens, les Québécois sont<br />
les plus gros consommateurs d'autos au pays. L'auto leur permet une plus grande<br />
indépendance. Les habitants de Montréal aiment davantage voyager en avion...<br />
9. a) version proposée : Les habitants de Montréal, eux...ou Les habitants de<br />
Montréal, quant à eux...<br />
Dans l’exemple 9) la scissure thématique provoquée par l’introduction de la<br />
nouvelle information (sur les habitants de Montréal) est éliminée et la continuité<br />
thématique est rétablie au moyen du phénomène de la résonance.<br />
La cohérence d’un <strong>text</strong>e est due, comme nous avons vu, à divers facteurs qui se<br />
situent, tous, soit à un plan sémantique, qui couvre la compréhension des unités<br />
linguistiques, soit à un plan pragmatique, qui touche aux rapports de sens entre les énoncés<br />
et la situation où ils sont produits. Il est très important de bien saisir que la cohérence ne<br />
relève pas d’un ensemble de règles arbitraires imposées par une grammaire quelconque,<br />
mais, au contraire, de l’observation des mécanismes au moyen desquels les lecteurs ont<br />
tendance à traiter les <strong>text</strong>es qui leur sont soumis.<br />
Pour qu’un <strong>text</strong>e soit apprécié comme étant cohérent, il faudrait que rien ne manque<br />
de ce qui est nécessaire à l’atteinte de la fin qui a géré sa rédaction. Un <strong>text</strong>e cohérent ne<br />
doit pas laisser au lecteur l’impression de quelque chose d’incomplet ou de tronqué.<br />
Il y a des situations où un <strong>text</strong>e peut endurer certaines carences à cause d’une<br />
variété de raisons, à savoir, un manque de documentation, une mauvaise compréhension<br />
du problème qui conduit l’auteur à laisser de coté des données essentielles, un style<br />
insuffisamment explicite, etc.<br />
En guise de conclusion nous apprécions que pour rédiger un <strong>text</strong>e cohérent le<br />
scripteur doit tenir compte de plusieurs aspects dont nous ne rappelons que quelques uns<br />
[5] :<br />
- le lecteur ne connaît pas ce dont le scripteur veut traiter: celui-ci doit développer,<br />
expliquer, illustrer ; le <strong>text</strong>e doit permettre au lecteur qui ne connaît pas les données de se<br />
les représenter ;il sera donc parfois nécessaire de reformuler de façon différente, de<br />
traduire des chiffres en mots etc.<br />
- le lecteur n'a pas les idées claires: le <strong>text</strong>e du scripteur doit être clair, organisé<br />
visuellement et linguistiquement, etc. ;<br />
- le lecteur ne croit pas ce qu’il lit : le <strong>text</strong>e doit être véridique, fondé sur des<br />
sources crédibles, des témoignages, des citations d'experts, avec un vocabulaire exact ;<br />
- le lecteur n'a pas envie de lire: le <strong>text</strong>e doit être séduisant, doit avoir un style<br />
communicatif, une mise en pages attrayante, une longueur des phrases entre 10 et 15 mots.<br />
Comme professeurs, nous parlons de cohérence <strong>text</strong>uelle pour décrire les marques<br />
par lesquelles un scripteur assure les liens entre les idées et fait avancer sa pensée dans son<br />
<strong>text</strong>e. Dans notre pratique pédagogique, c’est un problème d’écriture, de rédaction par les<br />
élèves et d’évaluation de la clarté et de la qualité de leurs <strong>text</strong>es pour nous, les enseignants.<br />
122
Etudier la cohérence et la cohésion <strong>text</strong>uelles en tant que phénomènes qui facilitent<br />
la lecture, la production et la compréhension des <strong>text</strong>es, c’est amener les étudiants à<br />
découvrir la manière de construire et d’interpréter le sens partiel au niveau de la phrase, le<br />
sens global au niveau du <strong>text</strong>e et en même temps, la manière d’interpréter les aspects<br />
discursifs au niveau de cette superstructure qui est le <strong>text</strong>e.<br />
REFERENCES BIBLIOGRAPHIQUES<br />
[1] Weinrich, Harald, Le temps, Editions du Seuil, Paris, 1973, p.22;<br />
[2] Riegel, M., Pellat, J.-C., Rioul, R., Grammaire méthodique du français, PUF, 1994, p. 605<br />
[3] Maingueneau, Dominique, Éléments de linguistique pour le <strong>text</strong>e littéraire, Bordas, Paris, 1990<br />
[4] Pépin Lorraine, Analyse de quelques défauts de cohérence <strong>text</strong>uelle, Correspondance, volume 4,<br />
numéro 2, nov. 1998, in www.ccdmd/qc.ca/correspo/Corr4-2/lecture.html<br />
[5] www.revel.unicefr/cycnos/sommaire.html?=10<br />
Charolles, Michel, L’encadrement du discours : univers, champs, domaines et espaces, Cahiers de<br />
Recherches Linguistiques, CNRS 1035, Université Nancy 2, 6, pp. 1-73<br />
Kleiber G., 1990, Quand "il" n'a pas d'antécédent, Langages, 97, 24-50.<br />
Kleiber G., 1992a, Cap sur les topiques avec le pronom « il », L'information Grammaticale, 54, pp.<br />
15-26.<br />
Weinrich, Harald, Grammaire <strong>text</strong>uelle du Français, Didier Hatier, Paris, 1989<br />
www.oasisfle.com/documents/progressions_thematiques.htm<br />
www.unige.ch/lettres/linge/moeschler/Discours/Discours4/sld002htm<br />
http://membres.lycos.fr/chrismoulin/lexique.htm#r1<br />
123<br />
Abstract<br />
To acquire the skill of writing, be it in a foregin language or not, imposes it on the learner to<br />
acquire the competence of formal communication, which is accessible only during classes,<br />
through a continuous contact with written ’products’.<br />
Our paper will describe results of an effective observation of several aspects which we<br />
consider to underly the coherence of a <strong>text</strong>, and which may be translated at the level of <strong>text</strong>uality.<br />
We are convinced that the didactic practice on <strong>text</strong>ual coherence will enable learners to identify<br />
their own competence in the reading of a certain <strong>text</strong> type and to resort to this competence to<br />
determine the acceptability limits of the written <strong>text</strong> the learner has just produced.<br />
Résumé<br />
L’habitude d’écrire dans une langue, étrangère ou non, demande à l’étudiant, à part l’acquisition<br />
des compétences de communication formelle, accessibles pendant les heures de classe<br />
exclusivement, le contact continu aux « produits » écrits.<br />
Notre article se propose d’observer, effectivement, la manière dont les divers aspects<br />
que nous jugeons être à la base de la cohérence <strong>text</strong>uelle, se traduisent au niveau de la<br />
<strong>text</strong>ualité. Résolument, la pratique didactique portant sur la cohérence <strong>text</strong>uelle aidera l’étudiant<br />
à identifier ses propres compétences de lecture pour un certain type de <strong>text</strong>e et en faire ainsi<br />
référence, afin de fixer les limites d’acceptabilité du <strong>text</strong>e écrit qu’il vient de produire.<br />
Rezumat<br />
Deprinderea de scrie într-o limbã, fie ea strãinã sau nu, solicitã studentului, în afarã de<br />
dobândirea unor competenţe de comunicare formale care sunt accesibile doar în cadrul orelor de<br />
curs, contactul continuu cu « produsele » scrise.<br />
Articolul nostru îşi propune sã observe, efectiv, modul în care diverse aspecte, pe care<br />
noi le considerãm a fi la baza coerenţei unui <strong>text</strong>, pot sã fie traduse la nivelul <strong>text</strong>ualitãţii. Avem<br />
convingerea cã practica didacticã asupra coerenţei <strong>text</strong>uale va ajuta studentul sã-şi identifice<br />
propriile competenţe de lecturã într-un anume tip de <strong>text</strong> dat şi sã apeleze la aceste competenţe<br />
pentru a determina limitele de acceptabilitate ale <strong>text</strong>ului scris pe care tocmai l-a produs.
Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of GALAŢI<br />
Fascicle XIII, New Series, Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006<br />
Book reviews<br />
pp. i - vii<br />
INTERFERENŢE LINGVISTICE ÎN DIACRONIA LIMBII ROMÂNE<br />
Doina Marta Bejan<br />
Bucureşti: Editura Didactică şi Pedagogică, 2005, 238 pp.<br />
Limba română, limbă romanică, îşi conturează individualitatea printre celelalte limbi<br />
neolatine şi prin nivelul lexical, asupra căruia, de-a lungul secolelor, s-au exercitat influenţe<br />
lingvistice străine fie ca urmare a contactelor directe cu diferite populaţii, fie a interferenţelor<br />
la nivel cărturăresc. Observaţii privind aceste interferenţe, afirmaţii cu caracter teoretic sau<br />
aplicativ apar în literatura etimologică descriind limba română sub formă de volume (Hristea<br />
1968, Ciobanu 1996, Dinu 1996, Sala 1999, Felecan 2004), dicţionare (Ciobanu 2004,<br />
Ciorănescu 2002) studii (Mihăilă 1960, Avram 1997) capitole sau subcapitole dedicate ariei<br />
etimologice (structura etimologică procentuală a vocabularului, argumentarea etimologiei<br />
unor unităţi lexicale aparţinând fie fondului principal de cuvinte, fie limbajelor specializate;<br />
pentru detalii a se vedea Zugun 2000) sau interferenţelor lingvistice.<br />
Cartea pe care o prezentăm selectează şi sintetizează<br />
informaţia dintr-o bogată literatură de specialitate care<br />
abordează direct sau aluziv, diferite aspecte ale acestor<br />
influenţe. Tema propusă de autoare este prezentată pe<br />
parcursul a aproximativ 240 de pagini, fiind structurată în<br />
cinci mari capitole. Prevăzut cu un cuprinzător aparat critic,<br />
volumul este recomandat tuturor celor interesaţi în<br />
aprofundarea aspectelor teoretice şi practice ale etimologiei<br />
limbii române, care pot extrage din aparatul critic informaţii<br />
bibliografice utile.<br />
Aşa cum se arată în secţiunea introductivă intitulată<br />
Consideraţii preliminare, interesul autoarei “s-a oprit<br />
asupra acelor interferenţe care au contribuit la fixarea<br />
specificului limbii noastre în interiorul familiei limbilor<br />
romanice, influenţa slavă, sau la influenţele care au dus la<br />
modernizarea limbii române actuale, împrumuturile neologice având ca urmare sporirea<br />
posibilităţilor de exprimare a celor mai noi şi mai variate idei” (8).<br />
Sunt prezentate în capitole de sine stătătoare influenţe exercitate de acele culturi şi<br />
limbi într-o anume perioadă din evoluţia limbii noastre, respectiv perioada în care româna<br />
începe să cunoască forma sa cultă (literară) de manifestare. Structural cartea propune un<br />
model bazat pe un nucleu al influenţelor, dezbătut în capitolele centrale şi două capitole<br />
care asigură limite interferenţiale, interpretate prin prisma cronologiei evenimentelor socioculturale<br />
reflectate în vocabularul limbii române.<br />
Primul capitol, Influenţa slavă, începe prin a descrie cadrul istoric şi temporal în<br />
care slavii „...îşi fac apariţia pe teritoriul Daciei...” (14), şi continuă cu periodizarea<br />
influenţei slave. Apreciem, în mod deosebit, demersul complet propus de autoare, prin<br />
referirile la influenţa limbilor slave învecinate şi a limbii slavone, exercitată, în cazul<br />
acesta, prin intermediul limbii scrise. Capitolul se încheie cu bogate exemplificări extrase<br />
din lexicul de origine slavonă din patrimoniul limbii române.<br />
Cea mai întinsă parte a lucrării, 133 de pagini, este reprezentată de trei capitole:<br />
Influenţa latină, Influenţa italiană, şi Influenţa franceză care au fost concepute într-o<br />
viziune sistemică pentru a argumenta fenomenul „‘occidentalizării romanice’ (termen<br />
propus în 1978 de Al. Niculescu pentru ceea ce numea, la 1940, Sextil Puşcariu –<br />
reromanizare). Este un proces de întărire a caracterului romanic originar al limbii române<br />
i
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Book reviews<br />
pp. i - vii<br />
prin influenţa latină cultă sau savantă şi a altor limbi romanice, italiană şi franceză în<br />
principal, [...] în limba română existând astăzi, din această sursă, cel mai mare număr de<br />
neologisme şi de calcuri, acoperind toate sferele vieţii materiale şi spirituale româneşti.<br />
Astfel, după unsprezece - douăsprezece secole de izolare de occidentul romanic, româna îşi<br />
regăseşte, prin intermediul culturii, locul ce i se cuvine în lumea romanică”(5).<br />
Ultimul capitol, Influenţa engleză, prezintă, în linii mari, contribuţia engleză,<br />
acceptată ca fiind cea mai recentă şi mai puternică influenţă care se exercită asupra limbii<br />
noastre, asigurând receptarea neologismelor cu caracter internaţional.<br />
Capitolele au, în linii mari, o structură asemănătoare: împrejurările istorice în care<br />
s-a produs contactul între limbi, periodizarea influenţei respective, un inventar al unităţilor<br />
lexicale, stabilit pe criteriile semantic şi morfologic, particularităţi ale adaptării<br />
neologismelor de originile amintite la sistemul fonetic şi morfologic al limbii române, un<br />
subcapitol despre calcuri de diverse tipuri şi un subcapitol despre formarea cuvintelor, în<br />
care sunt înregistrate afixele separate din cuvintele împrumutate, şi care au devenit<br />
productive în limba română.<br />
Aproape fiecare capitol încearcă să lămurească problema etimologiei multiple a<br />
unor unităţi lexicale în limba română. Binevenită este prezentarea fenomenului<br />
franţuzismelor aparente, numite de Theodor Hristea pseudofranţuzisme, prin analogie cu<br />
pseudoanglicismele, adică acele cuvinte care nu există în limba franceză sau engleză, dar<br />
care au fost create în limba română sau în alte limbi de unde româna le-a preluat, prin<br />
combinarea unor teme sau elemente formative de origine franceză / engleză: grandoman,<br />
grandomanie, tenismen, recordmen etc.<br />
Informaţia fiecărui capitol se completează cu bogate note care detaliază aspecte din<br />
bibliografia consultată, de obicei răspândită prin diverse reviste de specialitate sau în actele<br />
congreselor de lingvistică.<br />
Oferind o imagine sintetică asupra unui important capitol de istorie a limbii<br />
române, lucrarea se parcurge, datorită sistematizării, cu uşurinţă, asigurând cititorului o<br />
mai bună înţelegere a devenirii limbii noastre.<br />
Referinţe şi sugestii bibliografice:<br />
1. Avram, Mioara, Anglicismele în limba română actuală, Bucureşti, 1997<br />
2. Ciobanu, Georgeta, Anglicisme în limba română, Timişoara, 1996<br />
3. Ciobanu,Georgeta, Romanian Words of English Origin, Timişoara, 2004<br />
4. Ciorănescu,Alexandru, Dicţionarul etimologic al limbii române, Bucureşti, 2002<br />
5. Dinu, Mihai, Personalitatea limbii române. Fizionomia vocabularului, Bucureşti, 1996<br />
6. Felecan, Nicolae, Vocabularul limbii române, Cluj-Napoca, 2004 (pp. 92-122)<br />
7. Hristea, Theodor, Probleme de etimologie, Bucureşti, 1968 (pp. 108-114)<br />
8. Mihăilă, G., Împrumuturi vechi sud-slave în limba română. Studiu lexico-semantic,<br />
Bucureşti, 1960<br />
9. Niculescu, Al., Individualitatea limbii române între limbile romanice. Contribuţii<br />
socio-culturale, Bucureşti, 1978<br />
10. Sala, Marius, Introducere în etimologia limbii române, Bucureşti, 1999 (pp. 166-218)<br />
11. Zugun, Petru, Lexicologia limbii române, Iaşi, 2000 (pp. 80-83).<br />
ii<br />
Floriana Popescu<br />
Universitatea Dunărea de Jos, Galaţi
Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of GALAŢI<br />
Fascicle XIII, New Series, Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006<br />
Book reviews<br />
pp. i - vii<br />
WHEN ALMA MATER HEARS FROM HER OFFSPRING<br />
CULTURAL MEDIATION. A CASE STUDY OF SAMI RESEARCH<br />
Elena Mirona Ciocîrlie<br />
University of Tromsø, Faculty of Social Sciences, 2005, 158 pp.<br />
THE WAYS OF THE NOVEL: OR, THE QUEST FOR VERISIMILITUDE IN THE<br />
EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY FRENCH AND ENGLISH NOVEL<br />
Gabriela Iuliana Colipcă<br />
Leiden: UFB/ GrafiMedia Universiteit Leiden, 2005, 504 pp.<br />
What the two books introduced in this double reviewing share is the fact that they were<br />
both written by young graduates from the University of Galaţi and were published under<br />
the aegis of two universities in Europe. Each marks a step further in its authoress’<br />
academic accomplishment.<br />
Such is the state of contemporary societies faced with the liberal market of cultural<br />
homogenization, which reflecting on their own diversity<br />
has become a necessity nowadays. The group of Sami<br />
researchers connected with the University of Tromsø in<br />
Norway, engaged in experimenting themes and methods<br />
while mediating aspects of indigenous culture with a view<br />
to challenging the Western paradigm, is a case in point.<br />
The first book under discussion here grew out of<br />
the two years spent by Mirona Ciocîrlie as a student of the<br />
Indigenous Master Programme at the University of<br />
Tromsø, and represents her dissertation submitted for the<br />
degree of Master of Philosophy on Indigenous Studies at<br />
the Faculty of Sciences there.<br />
A graduate from the Faculty of Letters at the<br />
University of Galaţi and also a MA in Cultural Studies at the<br />
Bucharest University, Mirona Ciocîrlie is currently employed<br />
as a project assistant with the Centre for Sami Studies at the University of Tromsø and is<br />
qualifying for a funded PhD position at the Faculty of Humanities at the said university.<br />
In her study, she makes the most of the Sami researchers’ innovative and<br />
experimenting work with the intention of revealing the process of globalization in a specific<br />
cultural area in Northern Norway in its interaction and communication with the academic area.<br />
The theoretical approach is sustained by two case studies resulting from Mirona<br />
Ciocîrlie’s intercourse with two interviewees benefited by their position both as academics<br />
and members of the Sami indigenous culture. Ande Somby is Associate Professor at the<br />
Faculty of Law, and his article Some Hybrids of the Legal Situation of the Sami People in<br />
Norway, giving vent to his frustrations as a Sami subjected to the process of<br />
norweginisation, makes the object of his conversation with Mirona. (32-53) Henry Minde<br />
is Professor of Sami History at the Faculty of History and he is being interviewed on his<br />
article Assimilation of the Sami – Implementation and Consequences. (54-74) The two<br />
<strong>text</strong>s are indeed the core of this research as they appear complementary to one another, and<br />
the <strong>full</strong> transcriptions of the two conversations reveal Mirona Ciocîrlie as an apt<br />
interviewer, able to elicit relevant responses from each of her interlocutors.<br />
iii
Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of GALAŢI<br />
Fascicle XIII, New Series, Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006<br />
Book reviews<br />
pp. i - vii<br />
In mapping her theoretical concepts, the authoress comes closer to such specific<br />
aspects as the Western discourse about the Other (S. Mills), the reader-response theory<br />
(Wolfgang Iser’s translatability and recursive looping), colonial and post-colonial<br />
theorizing (Edward Said, Arnold Krupat) and, of course, postmodern and poststructural<br />
critical paradigms (Michel de Certeau, Michel Foucault, Brian McHale, Paul Ricœur, or H.<br />
White). Not infrequently, the dense scholarly discourse is enlivened by occasional<br />
(auto)biographical glimpses. At the beginning of her studies at Tromsø, Mirona Ciocîrlie<br />
confesses, she found herself immersed in a new cultural environment where she became<br />
aware of the political and administrative dimensions of the Indigenous Discourse which<br />
tended to describe indigenous communities as politically weak, economically inadequate<br />
and culturally stigmatized. While aware of being the product of a European type of<br />
civilization valuing critical, objective estimation of the facts of life, she found similarities<br />
in her childhood upbringing amidst rural population back in the rural Romania, relevant for<br />
a better understanding of how to deal with issues of difference. The scholarly tension is<br />
also released with cases taken from Sami past and recent history, of Shamanic tradition, of<br />
environmental protests, of legal action taken against expropriation of property, all of these<br />
meant to take the reader into the realities of the Sami people in Norway.<br />
However, the reader may consider that it takes more than two <strong>text</strong>s/ interviews to<br />
substantiate the point that seems to be focal for the study under discussion, viz. that the<br />
ways in which indigenous researchers have challenged the Western discourse on<br />
indigenous cultures are far more numerous and diverse than previously expected. Further<br />
cases in point might have indeed been welcome to demonstrate the diversity of the<br />
discourse of the intelligentsia in native communities as evidence of their mounting<br />
determination to preserve their spiritual and material identities.<br />
Despite being marred by a number of errors caused by editorial mismanagement,<br />
the book is an outstanding achievement of cultural synthesis coupled with a compelling<br />
analytical approach, and speaks to specialists and non-specialists alike.<br />
GABRIELA IULIANA COLIPCĂ<br />
THE WAYS OF THE NOVEL:<br />
OR,<br />
THE QUEST FOR VERISIMILITUDE<br />
IN THE EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY<br />
FRENCH AND ENGLISH NOVEL<br />
UNIVERSITEIT LEIDEN<br />
2005<br />
The second book to be reviewed is the result of its<br />
authoress’ <strong>full</strong> time doctoral research with the<br />
Comparative Literature Department at the University of<br />
Leiden as the recipient of a PhD grant by the Pallas<br />
Institute of that university. Also a graduate from the<br />
University of Galaţi, Gabriela Iuliana Colipcă received an<br />
MA degree in Translation and Interpretation from her<br />
Alma Mater where she has been employed since 1999.<br />
Now she holds the position of senior lecturer.<br />
In an impressive study (five hundred pages or so<br />
long), Gabriela Colipcă conducts a comparative<br />
examination of the emergence and development of fiction<br />
in two major European literatures, the English and French<br />
ones, with special focus on the verisimilitude-creating<br />
devices which, in her opinion, marked the shift from the<br />
Enlightenment to the Romantic age. Actually, the concept of verisimilitude appears indeed<br />
as the cornerstone that sustains the whole theoretical edifice informing this work. From the<br />
Aristotelian principle of mimesis to the early eighteenth-century concept of outer<br />
verisimilitude and further to inner verisimilitude in the latter half of the century, the book<br />
traces the avatars of the aesthetic component of lifelikeness placed within the framework<br />
iv
Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of GALAŢI<br />
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Book reviews<br />
pp. i - vii<br />
of the eighteenth-century European mentalities. This can be seen in each of the four<br />
sections (Parts) where verisimilitude is constantly resorted to as a key concept. Thus, Part<br />
One: Verisimilitude and the Illusion of Reality brings to the focus, through subsequent<br />
subchapters, the ways in which the novel managed to change its status from marginal to<br />
canonical by experimenting with new means of creating verisimilitude. Part Two:<br />
Verisimilitude and the Voyage Abroad. Philosophical Quests looks at travel narratives as<br />
marking the spiritual transition from stability to mobility when “realism of assessment”<br />
emerged as another essential dimension of the verisimilitude pattern of the voyage abroad<br />
(148). Part Three: Verisimilitude and the Picaresque Journey outlines and discusses the<br />
multiple uses of the picaresque vein as a favourite device of representing reality in the<br />
eighteenth-century novel. Part Four: Verisimilitude, Voyages and the Passion Pattern is<br />
perceived as the most heterogeneous of all since the examination of the preference for the<br />
voyage due to its capacity of conveying verisimilitude calls for a reiteration of all the main<br />
directions of the previous discussion. This section examines the gradual metamorphosis<br />
and final triumph of inner verisimilitude while maintaining that “the ideals and<br />
verisimilitude models of the Enlightenment man (…) make way for those of the Romantic,<br />
modern individual who continues to travel, but with a different goal and within the<br />
boundaries of different horizons” (473).<br />
Close reading exploration into the <strong>text</strong>s of representative eighteenth-century French<br />
and English fiction authors (mention is made of as many as 46 titles) provide a stimulating<br />
and thought-provoking addition. Making the most of a bibliography encompassing the<br />
whole gamut of theoretical research in the field from, say, the now classical Wellek and<br />
Warren to the very latest, Gabriela Colipcă’s book brings together all the salient points that<br />
landmark a crucial moment in the development of the modern novel.<br />
Excellently written, well documented, clearly structured, this is a compelling<br />
reading for students, scholars and anyone with an interest in the novel.<br />
LE GOUT DES MOTS. SAVOAREA CUVINTELOR.<br />
Dicţionar francez-român de termeni culinari*.<br />
Virginia Veja şi colectiv.<br />
Bucureşti: Editura Didactică şi Pedagogică. 2006<br />
v<br />
Eugenia Gavriliu<br />
“Dunărea de Jos” University of Galaţi<br />
Ce dictionnaire se propose d’investiguer une zone<br />
toujours intéressante de l’univers du discours public: le<br />
vocabulaire d’orientation gastronomique, plus spécialement le<br />
vocabulaire de la cuisine.<br />
Elaboré par un groupe d’étudiantes en DEA, certaines<br />
d’entre elles devenues par la suite nos collègues, le<br />
dictionnaire reflète les éléments thématiques en usage et tente<br />
de mettre en évidence le rapport qui existe, en général, entre<br />
la culture, la langue et leurs représentations lexicographiques.<br />
Né d’un évident besoin, tant pour l’utilisateur commun<br />
que pour le spécialiste terminologue et/ou le traducteur, ce<br />
dictionnaire met à la disposition du public intéressé une liste
Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of GALAŢI<br />
Fascicle XIII, New Series, Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006<br />
Book reviews<br />
pp. i - vii<br />
d’environ 6000 mots et lexies identifiés dans des corpus bilingues, français et roumain,<br />
traités de façon à ce qu’ils donnent une image de l’univers thématique dans les langues<br />
mises en rapport.<br />
Les auteurs de ce travail ont essayé d’éviter le dérisoire d’un « faux dictionnaire »<br />
et se sont impliquées avec beaucoup de passion dans l’élaboration d’un vrai dictionnaire,<br />
capable de décrire ce monde savoureux de la cuisine française et bien davantage.<br />
Ce dictionnaire que nous proposons non seulement à un emploi ponctuel dicté par<br />
des nécessités de compréhension, mais aussi à la lecture encyclopédique, se donne pour<br />
tâche d’harmoniser une présentation lexicographique, caractérisée par des entrées<br />
polysémiques, classification alphabétique et marquage différentiel, avec une présentation<br />
terminologique, dans le but de mettre en évidence les zones de la constitution du sens<br />
autant au niveau de la langue source (le français) qu’à celui de la langue cible (le roumain).<br />
ON MODERNISM, POSTMODERNISM AND THE NOVEL<br />
Michaela Praisler<br />
Bucureşti: Editura Didactică şi Pedagogică, 2005, 183 pp<br />
vi<br />
Conf. Univ. dr. Angelica Vâlcu<br />
Université “Dunărea de Jos”, Galaţi<br />
Modern and contemporary literature has long been the object of debate. Critics have<br />
emphasized its avant-garde nature and have pointed out the intricacies of its fabric, readers<br />
have dismissed it as either too innovative to be pleasing or as difficult and eclectic, students<br />
have coped but not actually got to grips with its discourse. Michaela Praisler’s book partly<br />
adds to the debate, partly informs and stimulates. It addresses philology undergraduates,<br />
offering them ideas about how to read the (post)modern novel, how to enjoy its strange<br />
experiments, and how to assess its value. In this it is intended to support the daring enterprise<br />
of teaching literature and to encourage reading in the era of <strong>text</strong>s being sooner browsed,<br />
listened to or watched rather than interacted with in the old<br />
fashioned way.<br />
On Modernism, Postmodernism and the Novel<br />
examines the main strands of twentieth-century fiction,<br />
including post-war, post-imperial and multicultural fiction. In<br />
so doing, it looks into the metamorphoses of novel modes of<br />
writing and challenges canonical patterns by shedding new<br />
light on generally recognised valuable contributors to the<br />
literary stage and by observing their latest reformulations<br />
with writers who still have to enter this exclusivist zone, but<br />
whose works clearly deserve our attention.<br />
In short, it focuses on the most popular of literary<br />
genres and is structured into two parts, which concentrate<br />
on the trends announced by the title and which develop<br />
“from a theoretical base to individual writers and<br />
representative works”. Inspired and necessary for a<br />
coherent survey of the twentieth century literary phenomenon and its contemporary<br />
hypostases, the choices operated are:
Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of GALAŢI<br />
Fascicle XIII, New Series, Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006<br />
Book reviews<br />
pp. i - vii<br />
Henry James, Edward Morgan Forster and Joseph Conrad (Early Modernism); Virginia<br />
Woolf, James Joyce and David Herbert Lawrence (Experimentalism); Angus Wilson and<br />
Kingsley Amis (The Angry Novel);<br />
Lawrence Durrell, John Fowles and David Lodge (Metafiction); Doris Lessing, Fay<br />
Weldon and Helen Fielding (Feminine/Feminist Fiction); Salman Rushdie and Kazuo<br />
Ishiguro (Postcolonial Writing).<br />
The writers’ contribution to the novel is placed within the wider historical and<br />
cultural frame of the time of writing but, more importantly, of the time of their reception,<br />
with a view to pointing out the openness of interpretation, the multitude of possible<br />
interpretative strategies. Furthermore, the explicit and implicit core of their writings is<br />
accessed through the lens of major critical directions, thus having theory and practice come<br />
together and familiarising readers not only with the discourse of fiction, but with that of<br />
criticism also.<br />
Including a selection of Texts (excerpts from The Portrait of a Lady, A Passage to<br />
India, Heart of Darkness, Mrs. Dalloway, Ulysses, Sons and Lovers, Anglo-Saxon<br />
Attitudes, Lucky Jim, The Alexandria Quartet, The French Lieutenant’s Woman, Changing<br />
Places, The Diaries of Jane Somers, Down Among the Women, Bridget Jones’s Diary,<br />
Midnight’s Children and The Remains of the Day), Michaela Praisler manages to put things<br />
into perspective, to illustrate that which has previously been stated with reference to style,<br />
diction, narrative practice and technique, to thus allow students to practice actual <strong>text</strong><br />
analysis, guided along by Tasks which orient and facilitate the approach. The Useful<br />
Terminology section which precedes the Bibliography serves practically the same<br />
purposes, defining terms and giving examples.<br />
Neatly structured and pertinently presented, the volume touches on the most<br />
neuralgic of issues associated with the novelty of modernism and the controversy of<br />
postmodernism, constituting itself at once into an appealing course of lectures and a<br />
thought-provoking collection of <strong>text</strong>s illustrative of the language of literature at its best.<br />
Having read Michaela Praisler’s book, one is compelled to acknowledge that the novel has<br />
remained as purposeful and relevant form as it was one hundred years ago.<br />
vii<br />
Ioana Mohor-Ivan<br />
“Dunărea de Jos” University of Galaţi
The Annals of the “Dunărea de Jos” University of Galaţi.<br />
Fascicle XIII. Language and Literature<br />
New Series, Issue 25, XIII (XXIV), 2006<br />
ISSN 1221- 4647<br />
Contributors<br />
Dr. Simona Antofi is an associate professor at the Department of Literature, Linguistics<br />
and Journalism, Faculty of Letters and Theology, “Dunărea de Jos” University of Galaţi. She is<br />
coordinator of research projects and author of papers exploring such topics as “Cultural Identity<br />
and Multiculturalism. A Romanian Identity Profile” (in Cultural Limits and Literature, Galaţi,<br />
2006) or “Les modèles culturels identitaires roumains, des solutions d‘intégration européenne et<br />
d’autolégitimité” (in CEDIMES, Târgovişte, 2006). Contact: simoantofi@yahoo.com<br />
Dr. Doina Marta Bejan an associate professor at the Department of Literature,<br />
Linguistics and Journalism, Faculty of Letters and Theology, “Dunărea de Jos” University of<br />
Galaţi. Her latest publication, Interferenţe lingvistice în diacronia limbii române (Bucureşti:<br />
Editura Didactică şi Pedagogică R.A., 2005) <strong>full</strong>y mirrors the author’s scientific interests (see the<br />
Book Review for details). Contact: dmbejan@yahoo.com<br />
Dr. Ruxanda Bontilă is an associate professor of British and American Literature at the<br />
University of Galati, Romania. Her recent publications include Vladimir Nabokov’s English<br />
Novels. The Art of Defusing Subjectivism (2004) and The Romantics and the Victorians. Views<br />
and Weaves (2005). Contact: ruxbontila@yahoo.com<br />
Raluca Bourceanu graduated from the Faculty of Letters (German - French), a “Al. I.<br />
Cuza” University of Iaşi and has won several scholarships to study in Germany (Konstanz şi<br />
München) and France (EPHE - Paris). As a young academic she teaches at “Al. I. Cuza”<br />
University of Iaşi and carries out research at the Collège de France, Paris. Her fields of interest<br />
include: theoretical linguistics, translation studies and the philosophy of language. Contact:<br />
raluca_bourceanu@yahoo.com<br />
Dr. Anca Cehan is an associate professor of linguistics and applied linguistics at the<br />
Faculty of Letters, the English Department, “Alexandru Ioan Cuza” University of Iaşi. She has<br />
carried out research and published studies in the fields of semantics, ELT methodology, discourse<br />
analysis and pragmatics. Contact: acehan@uaic.ro<br />
Dr. Mihaela Cirnu is a lecturer at the Department of Literature, Linguistics and<br />
Journalism, the Faculty of Letters and Theology, “Dunărea de Jos” University of Galaţi. Her<br />
research interests focus mainly on the Romanian language of advertising. Contact:<br />
mihacirnu@yahoo.com<br />
Damian Matei, a PhD student and a young academic of the the Department of Literature,<br />
Linguistics and Journalism, Faculty of Letters and Theology, “Dunărea de Jos” University of<br />
Galaţi will thoroughly investigate the Romanian literature in his quest for data on the image of the<br />
press in the Romanian literature. Contact: matei83@yahoo.com<br />
Dr. Petru Iamandi is an associate professor at the English Department, Faculty of<br />
Letters and Theology, “Dunărea de Jos” University of Galaţi. His research interests cover mainly<br />
the field of SF literature and history of SF literature. Contact: petrui55@yahoo.com<br />
Nicoleta Ifrim, a young academic of the Department of Literature, Linguistics and<br />
Journalism, the Faculty of Letters and Theology, “Dunărea de Jos” University of Galaţi, is<br />
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Contributors<br />
Fascicle XIII. Language and Literature. Vol. 18 (2006)<br />
currently preparing her doctoral thesis in the Romanian literature. Contact:<br />
nicodasca@yahoo.com<br />
Silvia Manoliu is a lecturer at The Department of Germanic Languages, Faculty of<br />
Letters and Sciences of Language and Communication, ”Ştefan cel Mare” University of Suceava.<br />
Her research interests focus mainly on applied linguistics (with a special interest in phonetics and<br />
phonology, semantics and translation studies) Contact: silviamanoliu@litere.usv.ro<br />
Dr. Ioana Mohor-Ivan an associate professor at the English Department, Faculty of<br />
Letters and Theology, “Dunărea de Jos” University of Galaţi. The grants she was awarded by the<br />
British Council enabled her to have direct access to Irish culture and literature. Contact:<br />
ioana_mohor@yahoo.com<br />
Gina Necula is a young academic of the Department of Literature, Linguistics and<br />
Journalism, the Faculty of Letters and Theology, “Dunărea de Jos” University of Galaţi.<br />
Currently she is performing research in Romanian linguistics, with a sepecial interest in the boiler<br />
plate language. Contact: ginanec@gmail.com<br />
Lidia Mihaela Necula is a young academic of the English Department, Faculty of<br />
Letters and Theology, “Dunărea de Jos” University of Galaţi whose research interests focus on<br />
contemporary English literature. Contact: lidiamicky_necula@yahoo.co. uk<br />
Dr. Paraschiv Mihaela, associate professor at the Department of Classical Languages,<br />
Italian and Spanish, of the Faculty of Letters “Al. I. Cuza” University of Iaşi. Author of two<br />
volumes published in 2003 (Femeia în Roma antică, Iaşi: Junimea) and 2004 (Documentele latine<br />
de cancelarie din Moldova (sec.XIV-XVIII), Iaşi: Junimea), Dr. Paraschiv has also published three<br />
bilingual volumes of translations: M.Tullius Cicero, Despre divinaţie, Iaşi: Polirom, 1998,<br />
M.Tullius Cicero, Despre destin, Iaşi: Polirom, 2000 and Sextus Aurelius Victor, Carte despre<br />
împăraţi, Iaşi: Ed.Universităii "Al.I.Cuza" 2006. Contact: mihaelaparaschiv_clasice@yahoo.com<br />
Steluţa Stan is a lecturer at the English Department, Faculty of Letters and Theology,<br />
“Dunărea de Jos” University of Galaţi. Her research interests cover mainly the field of<br />
postmodernist literature and she has also taken a special interest in the study of English modality.<br />
Contact: stelutastan@yahoo.com<br />
Daniela Şorcaru is a Junior Lecturer of English Linguistics in the Department of English<br />
Language and Literature of the Faculty of Letters, “Dunărea de Jos” University of Galaţi. She has<br />
published articles in conference volumes and chapter contributions to scientific research volumes,<br />
most of them focused on stylistic linguistics. Contact: daniela_sorcaru@yahoo.com<br />
Dr. Daniela uchel, is an associate professor of linguistics and applied linguistics at the<br />
Faculty of Letters and Theology, “Dunărea de Jos” University of Galaţi. Her research interests<br />
focus on pragmatics, rhetorics and the grammar of contemporary English. Contact:<br />
tucheldaniela@yahoo.com<br />
Dr. Angelica Vâlcu is an associate professor of linguistics and applied linguistics at the<br />
French Department of the Faculty of Letters and Theology, “Dunărea de Jos” University of<br />
Galaţi. Her research interests cover the fields of <strong>text</strong> linguistics, teaching French as a foreign<br />
language. Contact: a_valcu@yahoo.fr>,