analiticheskoe_chtenie
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proclaimed by Ch. Bally in his "Stylistique Fran<;ais" (1909) to be later developed in numerous works on style, among them those of V. V. Vinogradov, R. A. Budagov and others. ·
In Achmanova's dictionary of linguistic terms "style" is defined as a subsystem (within the language system) with its own vocabulary, phraseology and syntax. It differs from other subsystems primarily by expressive properties of its elements and by the fact that it is connected with a certain sphere of functioning (everyday life, science, business, literature, etc.).1 The branch of linguistics that makes a study of expressive properties of linguistic units as well as the spheres of their usage is called linguo-sty- listics.
Style in Imaginative Likrature. Complexity of the phenomenon of Imaginative Litera tu re and of Literary Work, for that matter, breeds, among other things, a variety of approaches to their style.
In contemporary studies of style several trends stand out prominent Most elaborated among them is the so called linguistic trend. Style of a literary wor·k, it claims, manifests itself verbally. Consequently, style can be appreciated
as a result of an analysis |
of verbal sequences constituting |
a literary text |
· |
The theoretical point |
of departure in such studies of |
style is the concept of the norm.
Stylistic norm is understood to be that which characterizes most if not all texts of different types. It is a statistical mean. The otherterms for stylistic norm are"zerostylist- ic reference", "stylistic neutrality". Those who proceed from such a concept of the norm regard style as an individual deviation froni the norm, a choice (K. Vossler, L. Spitzer, C. Brooks, R. P. Warren). The choice of an element out of a nuiuber of others provided by the language for the expression of a given sense is understood to be a stylistic choice. E. f!. I trust you; I have trust in you; I have confidence in you; de.
A writer's slyle, in terms of this conception, is his individual and creative utilization (choice) of the resources of the language; the limitations upon the choice are
1 0. C. A x M a H o B a. CJ!oeapb JlllHfBH~TllqecKllX TepMHHoB.
M., 1966, CTp. 455.
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superimposed by the writer's period, his genre and his purpose.1 ·
Viewed by the reader, the style of a literary work is that whole of the content and its linguistic expression that manifests.. itself in a certain effect. 2
A number of feasible methods have been worked out in recent years on the basis of a linguistic approach to style.
We endeavour to outline them in short below in hope that such an outline would give the reader some hints as to what he could be guided by in his appreciation of the style of literary works· he reads.
The methods rest, for the most part, upon contemporary linguistic theories such as the speaker-hearer linguistics, the semantic field theory, quantitative linguistics and others. These linguistic theories bring system into the field of research where formerly wholly impressionistic studies
were prevalent. |
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One such method |
is s t a t i s t i |
c a I m e a s u r i n g |
of sty 1 e. Here is |
its essence. To |
measure the style of |
a text means to calculate the frequencies of its linguistic items (phonetic, morphological, lexical) and then compare them with the corresponding features of another text which has a definite contextual relationship with the given text. In statistical analysis the following phenomena are usually estimated:
1) the concentration of lexical units in the text (repetition of lexical units); 2) the dispersion of lexical units in the text (occurrence of rare words - a factor that speaks for the richness of the vocabulary of the text); 3) the occurrence of thematic (key) words. 3
The merit of this method is its objectivity. Its main limitation lies in the fact that it can show the difference between texts, but alone cannot evaluate. It cannot reveal
1 Linguistics and Style. "Language and Language Learning.." Oxford University Press, 1964.
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the aesthetic effect of the text. Th_!!s, it is useful only as a supplementary vehicle of stylistiC analysis.
Statistical method is sometimes combined with some
other analysis. A combination of s t |
a t i s t i c .a 1 a n d |
p s y c h o 1 i n g u i s t i c methods |
has been described |
by J. Carroll in his paper "Vectors of Prose Style.l Major objective qualities of style such as the occurrence of certain classes of words, clauses, sentences and other linguistic entities were counted and then related to subjective descriptions of style made by expert judges. The descri p- tions of selected pieces of literary texts were made according to adjectival scales such as the following: subtle - obvious; vigorous --'- placid; emotional - rational; opinionatedimpartial, etc. The author admits that the ' judges agreed in making descriptive classifications of prose passages but they seldom agreed when making general evaluations of style. Nevertheless, the style that has been agreed upon by most judges as ornamented had the following objective characteristics: long sentences, long clauses, wide variation in sentence length, a high proportion of nouns with Latin suffixes, a low proportion of verbs denoting physical action, a high number· of descriptive adjectives. The main conclusion made by the author of the article was: there is no hard distinction between style and content. Though we may define style as the manner of treating the subject matter, the type of subject matter will in general impose constraints upon the possible kinds of stylistic treatment.
Intensive work in the study of style is being done by the Leningrad philologists (Arnold, Diakonova, Silman and others). Of special interest in the present case is the method worked out by I. V. Arnold and her follow-
ers.2 |
It is based upon the assumption |
that: 3 |
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1) |
A literary text is a complete and undivided structure |
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ef interdependent elements: all elements |
of the text are |
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equally conducive to the understanding of the whole. |
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1 |
In: Style in Language. ed. by Th. A. Scbeok. N. Y.,' 1960, |
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2 |
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XYAOlKeCTBeHHOro |
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2. |
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3 |
See also: M. Riffaterre. |
Criteria for |
Style |
Analysis. In: "W'ord", |
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v. XV, 1959, No I; M. Riffaterre. The Stylistic Function. In: "Proceedings of the Ninth Congress of Linguists". Cambridge, 1962; S. R. Levin. Linguistic Structures in Poetry. In: "Lanuo linguarum". Series minor, No 23, The Hague Mouton, 1962,
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2) Meanings most essential for the understanding of the whole content recur in the text and make up its thematic basis. These meanings may be expressed by recurrent words, by recurrent semes (different sound complexes with similar meaning components) and by recurrent themes. Meaning-
fulness of the recurrent element is generally signalled |
by |
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coupling, |
i. e. by the occurrence of similar |
elements |
in |
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similar |
positions |
with the resulting |
interconnection |
of |
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all elements of the text. |
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;3) Rare words |
and rare (semi-marked) word-groups of |
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a grief ago |
type usually signal the |
text's most significant |
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meanings. |
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""· |
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While |
reading |
the text one, |
line |
by |
line, observes |
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the recurrent words and the meanings they convey, as well as recurrent meanings contained in different lexical units.
The recurrent lexical units give the reader an idea of the work's theme, while rare words and word-groups as well as recurrent semes within specHic syntactic and phonemic structures reveal tb_e whole content.
The method has been found especially useful in the analysis of those works of poetry whose content is compli-
cated and involved. |
we have |
briefly |
outlined |
above |
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The |
methods |
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(and these are by far not all |
of those |
used .in |
contem- |
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porary |
style study) |
have tliis |
in common: they are based |
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on a linear (verbal) |
analysis |
of the text, i. e. |
they all |
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represent a linguistic approach to the style of the literary work..
There are other approaches. Those that proceed from the fact that literature is primarily one of the arts (with all the differences that there are between them) may be tentatively defined as an aesthetic trend. Basic assumption in such a trend is that a literary work though expressed in
words, does |
not exhaust itself in linear word sequences. |
It involves |
both linear {verbal) and non-linear (supraver- |
bal) components, such as composition, genre, image and the like. The style of a literary work is considered to be a unique whole of all the linear and supralinear components. The difficulty of the style analysis arises from the fact that linear and supralinear components are not coincident with each other.
In recent years there have emerged new methods within the aesthetic trend of style study characterized by a semio-
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tic or cybernetic approach to the literary work.1 We restrain from giving their outline as the methods are still in the making; some concepts of the aesthetic trend, though, have found their way into this book.
* * *
Class-room analysis of literary works naturally differs from scientific research. As a rule, an intuitive· approach prevails by which we understand an interpretation of the effect produced upon the reader by the analysed piece of writing and perceived at the reader's nerve endings.
Descriptive approach, too, is practised. It consists in the identification of all the favoured devices used by the author in the text.
Elements of other methods (such as those outlined above) gradually make their way into the class-room.
'But no matter how consistently the applied method is pursued one thing is essential: the analysis of style should not be separated Jrom content, for the two are inseparable.
1 See, for instance: IO. M. JI o T M a H. CTpyKTypa xyllOlKeCTBeHworo TCKCTa. M., 1970.
PART TWO
ANALYTICAL READING
I KNOCK AT THE DOOR
(from Sean O'Casey's "Autobiographies")
[Sean O'Casey's "Autobiographies" are remarkable for their impassioned tone, "for the flavom of the expressive speech of the Irish, for the folklore-like quality of imagery and rhythm. The selected piece is the last chapter of the "Autobiographies" first volume which, too, carries the name of "I knock at the Door", so that both make a sort of framing.]
Johnny's mother was very concerned abouthis education. So was Archie in a hazy and bullying kind of way; and so was Ella, who was nursing her first baby and whose husband was soon to bid good-bye to the army forever. Ella's education of her own husband was a failure, as Johnny said grumblingly, and now she wanted to fix her teeth in him. Many and mighty were the collogin that went on between her an' her mother about poor Johnny's ignorance of all things.
One day Ella came, bringing a bundle of clothes for her mother to wash; when the washing was over, they sat down to a cup of tea and a crumpet, to start the talk all over again.
"I know he can't be let go on as he's goin' ,"said Mrs. Casside, "or, when he's a man, he won't even know the number on his own hall-door. He must be taught something, even though he can't go to school. The last thing throublin' your poor father's mind, before he died, was that Johnny was bound to grow up a dunce."
Ella sipped her tea, and thought for a moment.
"I can't help thinking that he should have been kept to school, in spite of his eyes," she said. "Oh, I know the doctors said he mustn't," she went on swiftly,_to forestall her mother who was opening her mouth to speak; "but the
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doctors haven't to rear him. A common labourer is all he'll be able to be when the time comes for him to take his place in life."
Your own husband won't be much more, thought her mother; but she held her tongue.
"A common labourer," went on Ella, "if he's sthrong enough even for that. It was a sad mistake not to have let him go to the Blue-coat School, afther all the trouble the rector and Mr. Purefoy took to get him admitted."
Her |
mother's |
mouth |
hardened. |
"That's all over an' |
done with," she said. "As long as |
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I live, |
the boy'!! |
never |
set foot in an institution." |
·"He'd be well fed an' clad, anyway," retorted Ella. "They're a lot, but they're not everything. The. boy
hasn't much here, but he has a home."
There had been a great how-do-you-do about this Blue-coat School for J ohnny. El la and Archie had fed him with the grandeur of the boys' lovely blue uniform, with its deep collar and cuffs of chrome yellow, long trousers, glengarry cap, blucher boots that were fastened with buckle and strap, and, lastly, a natty cane to be carried under the arm. The brothers in the army had written home to say the idea was a grand one; and J ohnny, himself, had pressed his mother to agree. But his mother had stood out against them all; and every time J ohnny pleaded all the good things about the school, she put him off with, "You 're far betther off as you are here."
"They'd teach him his religion," went on Ella. "They'd hammer it into him, Ella. Every turn he'd
take would be chronicled; and if one wasn't done as they' had planned, the boy'd be broken into their way of doin' it; an' Johnny's my boy, an' not theirs. If they're anxious
to |
ked him, let them feed him here; if |
they're anxious |
to |
clothe him, let them clothe him here. |
I'm not goin' |
to have the life in him cowed out of him, as long as I can prevent it. There's no use of harpin' on the Blue-coat
School, for me mind's made up - |
the boy won't go into |
it." |
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"I'm arguin' only for the boy's own good," said Ella |
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righteously. |
· |
"Everyone's advisin' me about the boy, says he's ar- |
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guin' only for the boy's own good." |
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"You've only to look at him," said Ella, "to see what's |
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happeninghe has hardly any forehead at all." |
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"I'm doin' all I can about that, an' it's certainly a little betther than it was," said the mother. "Three times a day I brush it off his forehead as hard as I can for more'n quarter of an hour; an' the hair growin' close to his eyes is bound to wear away in time. An', after brushin' it at night, I put a tight bandage to keep a pull up on the hair while he's asleep. Even if his eyes .prevent him from learnin' much, ase!f, I'll not let him go through life with a low forehead. I'd like to do something for his teeth, but they'll have to take their chance."
Ella went over to rummage among the books left behind as unsalable out of her father's fine store. She brought back a Superseded Spelling-book, by SulLivan, who held that by learning affixes and suffixes, Latin and Greek roots, you could net_ words in hundreds, as ,against the old method of fishing one word up at a time; a Reading Lesson Book; a Primer of Grammar; and simple Lessons in Geography.
"Here,' she said, "is all he'll need for the present. Make him learn the parts I've marked in each book, an', if he
learns a like lot every day for a year, |
he'll |
know a |
little |
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at the end of it." |
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J ohnny was brought |
in from the street, |
and told what |
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he had to do. |
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"I'm not goin' to do it," he said |
viciously; "I |
won't · |
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do it. I'm good enough |
as I am." |
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. |
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"Very well," said his mother firmly, "at the end of the week, no penny for your Boys of London and New York.
Remember, no lessons, no penny for your paper." Johnny was beaten. He'd as lief lose his life as lose
the stories of Old King Brady, the Wonder Detective, Red Eagle, the Ffi.end of the Palefaces, or From Bootblack to Broker, the story of business life in New York, all of which his mother helped him to read when he brought the
paper home. |
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After |
Ella had read the big words for him, |
he put on |
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his cap, |
and |
sauntered gloomily |
off to where there was |
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a strip of waste ground near the |
railway, covered with |
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coarse grass, |
dandelions, _daisies, |
dead nettles, |
plantains, |
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rag-worts, and odd scarlet pimpernel, and patches of scarlet poppies. Choosing a fair spot of grass,. bordered with poppies and daisies, he sat down, opened his books, watched, for a moment, bees busy in a clump of clover; and then began his studies.
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Grammar, he tried to read, is the art of speaking, reading and writing the English language correctly. It is divided into four parts, namely, Orthography, Etymology,
Syntax, and |
Prosody. Orthography deals with the art |
of spelling; |
Etymology with the origin and derivation |
of words; Syntax with the proper construction of sentences; and Prosody with the laws and rules of poethry.
"Curse o'God on it!" he muttered, "isn't it terrible!" He opened the Reading Book, and found that Ella had marked the first few verses of The Brook, by Tennyson. "Who the hell's Tennyson? " he asked himself, as he
slowly recited:
I come from haunts of coot and hern,
I make a sudden sally
And sparkle out among the fern,
To bicker down a valley.
"Coot an' hern," he murmured; "I wondher what they are? Must be some kinda birds, ma says; but what kinda birds?" He knew well the kinda birds sparrows were; not worth a tuppenny damn, for even Jesus said that two of them were sold in Jerusalem for a farthing; indeed, you wouldn't get even that for a dozen of them in Dublin. He had seen a redpoll, a green linnet, a thrush, a blackbird, and a goldfinch, all in cages; the.y were all the birds he had seen so far; but he had never even heard of a coot or a hern. But this kinda mopin'll never get on with the work; and he started to recite again:
By thirty hills I hurry down,
Or slip between the ridges,
By twenty thorps, a little town,
And half a hundred bridges.
Till last by Phi lip's farm I flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.
"Only one more verse," murmured Johnny, "only one more river to cross."
I chatther over |
stony ways, |
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In |
little |
sharps |
and trebles, |
I |
bubble |
into eddying bays, |
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I |
babble |
on the pebbles. |
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Sharps an' threbles -~hat did they mean? He knew that to be sharp meant to have an edge on anything that would cut, if you weren't careful; but what had sharp
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to do with the running water of a brook? And what was a threble? He sighed. The useless and puzzlin' things they made him learn. He knew what the sea was, because he had seen it at Sandymount. And a river, too, for one flowed through the city. What was the use of askin' him to learn what things were when he knew what they were already? But what about their own river, the Liffey? Where did it make its start? No one could tell him. His mother didn't know; Ella didn't know; Archie didn't know. Somewhere or another, was all they could say. Didn't he know that himself! An' they're cross with you over something you don't know, an' just as cross when you ask them something they don't know themselves.- Take the Tolka. That was called a river, yet it was only the size of a brook, for he had paddled in it, and had filled a jar with miimows out of it. Yet it was the river Tolka. Puzzle, puzzle, puzzle. Of course he remembered the time it flooded the rotting little white-washed cottages on its bank, and swept away swift the statue of the Blessed Virgin standing in the muddy space beside the river. The statue had floated back again against the flow, like bread cast upon the waters,· returning after many days, and stayed floating beside the houses, till it was taken up, cleaned, painted blue and white, and put back on its pedestal again. Yes, when it was in flood, the Tolka was a river; but every other time, it was only a brook.
A slender shadow fell across the poppies and the daisies. J ohnny looked up, and saw J ennie Cltheroe standing beside him. Each eyed the other for a few moments, shyly, in silence.
"Just comin' from school?" he asked.
"Yes," she answered, "just back from school. What are you doin' with the school books?"
"Just havin' a little look at them."
She made a place beside the poppies, passed a hand along her skirt to tuck it in, sat down beside him, and fingered the books.
"Oh, I'm in the fifth standard, now," she said, "and I passed out of these years ago. I'm learnin' Euclid an' everything."
J ohnny gathered the books up and stuffed them into his pocket.
"Y' know the river Liffey?" he asked. "'Course I do."
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