Journal of Literature and Art Studies Vol 4. Issue 11 2014

Journal of Literature

and Art Studies

Volume 4, Number 11, November 2014 (Serial Number 36)

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Journal of Literature and Art Studies

Volume 4, Number 11, November 2014 (Serial Number 36)

Contents Literature Studies

In Quest of “Answers” in the Colonial Sands: A Comparative Study of Waliullah and

Camus’ “Absurd” Protagonists 867

Sanyat Sattar, Abu Saleh Md. Rafi

George Orwell’s Non-linear Narrative in The Road To Wigan Pier 872

Bechir Chaabane

Differences in Values Between Mother and Daughter in Cord 891

LIU Xi, MA Wen-ying

James Salter’s Pilots and Wingmen, Then and Now 895

David Kirk Vaughan

Rhetoric and Meaning in Poetry: The Case of Zambia 902

Moffat Moyo

Revisiting the Myth of Irishness and Heroism—An Analysis of W.B. Yeats’ The Green Helmet 911

Joanna Zadarko

Hypothetical Earlier Dating for The Passionate Pilgrim and First Folio 916

W. Ron Hess

Marie Corelli’s The Secret Power in Bengali Rendering: Translation, Indianisation and

Cultural Criss-crossing 941

Pritha Kundu

Exiles Turn Lemons Into Lemonade: Multiethnic Poets of the US Crossing Borders 951

Mais Qutami

“Eye Caught by Another Eye”: Locating Experience in Nadine Gordimer’s The Lying Days 965

Laura Giovannelli

Art Studies

The Social Construction of City: Taipei in Human Condition 981

Chia-ching Lin, Feng-chia Li

Special Research

A Re-investigation of the Concept of Word Classes Through a Categorization Approach 990

Osondu C. Unegbu

Constructing a Local Folk-belief Knowledge System: A Case Study on Xiangtou in

Hebei Province, China 1000

LI Xiang-zhen

Common Core State Standards: What’s Next? 1007

Rose Campbell, Kirk Gavin

Journal of Literature and Art Studies, ISSN 2159-5836 November 2014, Vol. 4, No. 11, 867-871

In Quest of “Answers” in the Colonial Sands: A Comparative

Study of Waliullah and Camus’ “Absurd” Protagonists

Sanyat Sattar

Jahangirnagar University, Dhaka, Bangladesh

Abu Saleh Md. Rafi

Daffodil International University, Dhaka, Bangladesh

Syed Waliullah (1922-1971) and Albert Camus (1913-1960) are two distinct writers from two different continents.

These writers have interesting commonness, especially in two of their novels—Chander Amabasya (Night of No

Moon), by Walilullah and The Outsider by Camus. The protagonists in both of these novels, Arif Ali and Meursault

respectively, suffer from existentialist crisis, mainly fueled by the impacts of the tarnished history of colonialism

and the aftermaths. Even though the stories of the these protagonists take place almost half way round the world in

entirely different settings, the impacts and facades of the crisis are strikingly similar. This paper is a comparative

study of soul-searching Arif Ali and Meursault.

Keywords: Existentialism, colonialism, postcolonialism, absurdity, meaninglessness, death

Introduction

When on a moonlit night in a mundane Bengali village, Arif Ali, a poor young school teacher discovers a

half naked body of a strangled woman in the bamboo groove, a series of questions begins to plague him: Who

killed that woman—why was she killed—had the life of the poor woman of no value—and so forth. The entire

novel runs on these questions where Arif Ali suffers from a terrible internal war of choices and that puts him

under the clutches of danger. In a Kafkaesque manner, Syed Waliullah reveals the fear, uncertainty, and mental

tension of the protagonist Arif Ali in his novel Chander Amabasya (1964) as Arif Ali proceeds along the

inescapable path to the moral responsibility.

The novel is written in the context of post 1947 East Pakistan (now Bangladesh). After the partition of the

Subcontinent, this territory falls into the clutches of neo-colonization. The middle class becomes the worst victim

in this process as they are doubly colonized by the high-educated-class of Bengali society powered by the

Pakistani hegemony. Being manipulated by the name of “religious unity”, the middle class realizes that they have

actually been suppressed politically, economically, and culturally. And when their existential crisis swells, they

feel the necessity of having a separate national identity. This awareness successfully results into the Bengali

language movement of 1952. At that time a good number of writers, journalists, teachers start emerging from this

middle class as a reactionary protest, but in the end of the decade they again are maneuvered as the “paid servant”

in that hegemonic interpellation. In Chander Amabasya Arif Ali feels the affinity with the romantic ideas of the

Sanyat Sattar, Ph.D., associate professor & Chair, Department of English, Jahangirnagar University. Abu Saleh Md. Rafi, M.A., lecturer, Department of English, Daffodil International University.

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IN QUEST OF “ANSWERS” IN THE COLONIAL SANDS

868

middle class. Yet when the stark reality intervenes, the romantic ideas shatter. Placing Arif Ali as a tour guide in

the changing socio-political statuesque of the Subcontinent, this paper aims to explore his existential crisis going

beyond the national boundaries. In this connection, this paper collaborates Albert Camus’ The Outsider (1942), to

find how Arif Ali represents the recurring feature of existential crisis is equally reflected in Meursault, the

protagonist of Camus’ The Outsider offering historical and socio-political commentary of people of Bengal and

Algerian societies respectively where the ambivalent relationship of colonizers and colonies is obvious.

Arif Ali in The Crisis of Absurdity

The entirely bleak and dark setting of the novel Chander Amabasya represents the afflicted society of 1940s

when one day Karim Majhi, a poor boatman, had to run away owing to financial dearth, his deserted wife being

killed in the bamboo groove for unknown reason and the protagonist, Arif Ali, had to face the death warrant even

for not being responsible of the murder. In the background of the partition of India and Pakistan Arif Ali’s life

was also crucially parted away from any normal aspirations of life. He was forced to drop out his school, leave his

mother alone in the village becoming an in-house lodging teacher at the households of Dada Shaheb, the powerful

religious authority of the village. Though he realizes that Karim Majhi’s wife was killed by Qadir, the son of

Dada Shaheb, he does not dare to render the murderer, not only because of his financial dependency on the family,

but also for Dada Shaheb’s manipulative religious dogma that announces Qadir as a Sufi. Qadir is a mute, aimless

character, who apparently looks drowsy at his every single appearances. Yet he gains the recognition of being a

“rebel” by the superstitious villagers, although nobody knows what he is rebelling against. Dada Shaheb, with his

eyes closed declares quietly, “How would ordinary people understand the rebellion of a dervish?” (Walliullah,

2006, p. 60).

As a matter of fact, this was the actual picture of postcolonial Bangladesh during 1940s, when Dada

Shaheb-like hegemonic powers were corrupting religion to be benefitted by enforcing false beliefs among the

common people. In such socio-political setting, a renaissance man like Arif Ali is confused with everything. And

the naked dead body seems to be triggering the inner questions more vividly. Is religion truly the space where

sanity lies? Or is it just another weapon of exercising corruption? What do the high-sounding ideas of love,

patriotism, sacrifice mean? Or are these just as meaningless as religion appears? What does education mean if the

middle class is to “obey” their masters? All such thoughts drift in the mind of Arif Ali. Sometimes a vague

sympathy rises in his heart for Qadir, imagining that Qadir might have had a love affair with that dead woman.

Arif’s idealistic philosophy keeps him acknowledging stark reality and he even thinks of forgiving the murderer

he knows. On the top of that, the villain of the novel, Qadir, attempts to convince him by telling that it was a mere

accident and he also threatens Arif Ali not to disclose what he saw in the bamboo groove unless he wants to die

himself. But Arif Ali’s conscience keeps continuously knocking him. Finally he reveals everything to the police,

knowing that something sinister will happen to him soon. Arif’s psychology is the picture—perfect

representation of contemporary ideology of the middle class common people in the society who are exiled in fear,

helplessness, inferiority complex, but at the same time remain responsible, self righteous and audacious to tell the

truth. The absurdity lies in the fact that everything seems bleak, meaningless and confusing as there is nothing to

do, but to accept the reality. Hence, this young teacher accepts this vague conclusion that no matter who is

punished, it hardly matters to him anymore—


869

What difference would it make as to who got punished as the meaning of the punishment would never reach the dead young woman any more. That was not why there should be a punishment. If the young teacher mistakenly brought the punishment on himself, if he himself were punished for the death of the young woman, then it would certainly reach its goal. (Walliullah, 2006, p. 150)

Arif Ali Versus Albert Camus

Interestingly, Albert Camus’ personal life has striking similarities with the fictional character of Arif Ali.

Due to his family’s extreme poverty, Camus also had to work a series of odd jobs to support his education at the

University of Algiers. However, he had to drop out of the school because of the severe attack of tuberculosis. His

writing was greatly influenced by the illness and poverty he faced during his youth. But what affected his inner

psyche the most was the horrors of Nazi regime and the evil consequences of the World War II that shattered the

pre-war values of love, romanticism, optimism, prosperity, and hope. Camus and many other writers of that time,

propounded the philosophy of absurdity of life, where life is meaningless and ends in

meaninglessness—something that Arif Ali equally projects.

Meursault, The Outsider

Camus published his first novel The Outsider in 1942, in which the protagonist Meursault brilliantly

emerges as the spokesman of Camus’ absurdist worldview. He is an emotionally detached, morally bankrupt and

spiritually sterile young man who is unable to reconcile with the past belief and also unwilling to accept those of

the mainstream society. The romantic idea of war and patriotism, the shattered philosophy of life and religion, the

lust and financial strings with the idea of love—all these have literally turned Meursault into the “outsider”, for

which he creates his own set of rules, and lives them unsympathetically. From his offhand sexual intercourse with

Marie on the day after his mother’s funeral, to his friendship with a violent pimp, to his needless murder of an

Arab man whom he does not even know, projects himself as an absurdist. The trial of Mersault, however, is even

more absurd. During the pre-trial hearings, the magistrate harasses Mersault about his religious belief while

Mersault indicates that he is an atheist. The magistrate overreacts waving a silver crucifix in his face and calls him

the “antichrist”. During the trial, the audience appears to be more interested in the fact that Mersault did not

grieve at his mother’s funeral and made love to Marie on the day after the funeral than the fact that he has killed a

man.

Here, the colonial history of Algeria needs to be pointed, as it reflects the mindset of the audience at the trail

scene. Algeria was a colony of France and by 1940’s, Algiers, the city in which The Outsider is set, was a French

territory (it is worth mentioning here that the time setting of Waliullah’s Chander Amabasya is also the 40s). In

that colonial world, the French were considered superior to the Arabs and Arabs were considered as camel

breading nomads, more suitable as slaves than anything else (Horowitz, 2006, p. 55). Thus in The Outsider the

unknown Arab, remains “unknown” without any story and becomes the peculiarly unpleasant example of both

racist and sexual exploitation. Horowitz emphasizes:

Whereas the majority of readers will see the failure to refer to the Arab’s murder in the novel’s second half as the result of Meursault’s “solar” conditioning, which thus absolves him of premeditated intent to kill, other readers will come to see in such silence Camus’s own [...] a silence that is thereby a sort of hegemony-in-narrative. The sleight of hand accorded the murder of the Arab throughout the second half is seen as Camus’ own dismissal of the murder and preceding violence. (Horowitz, 2006, p. 55)


870

From a postcolonial perspective, Camus’ name generates a systematic nullification of Arab characters as

evident in The Outsider. Meursault may “officially” be on trial for killing a man, but he is in fact on trial for his

character, and it is for this character that he is convicted. Being a non-Arab, a representative of colonizer’s

community, Meursault’s killing a colonized Arab was a minor offense, but not obeying the colonial customs as

being part of the group of colonizers and not acting as a true Christian, was apparently more offensive and

punishable crime. When Meursault himself says he has been convinced of his own guilt, he is probably not

talking about murder at all. But it is an absurd sentence for a man who truly does not view himself as a criminal:

“I was sure of myself, sure about everything, Sure of my present life and of the death that was coming [...] I’d

been right, I was still right, I was always right” (Camus, 2000, p. 130).

The Affinities of Absurdity

From the comparative study attempted on Syed Waliullah’s Chander Amabasya in conjunction with Albert

Camus’ The Outsider, this paper finds that both of the protagonists are in search for the answers of all the

“meanings” of the signs and symbols of the clueless life. Life is seemingly a riddle and none of these characters

are able to find the proper answer to anything.

The incongruous colonial history of the Subcontinent or in the African continent added with all numerous

other concomitant of war fuels the absurdity in the fundamental reasoning of living in the mindset of Arif Ali and

Meusault, who feel lost and aimless. By absurdity they try to escape from their traditional romantic ideas of living.

Although from postcolonial perspective, Meursault stands as the colonizer, when Arif shares the experiences of

being the colonized, their internalized emotional suffering is somewhat similar. In their individual social

discrepancies, Arif Ali and Mersault begin the journey towards awareness, but inevitably encounter existentialist

crisis, which stimulate them to instigate introspective thoughts. Meursault experiences existentialism throughout

the novel, because he is detached from almost everybody. This detachment causes him to go through traumatic

experiences, leading up to the end of the novel, where he comes to realize what kind of a life he has been living.

Meursault can be considered as a strange character, who is looking for the meaning in life, yet at the same time

abandoning it, and embracing apathy.

Unlike Meursault, Arif Ali needlessly involves himself with the odd turn of events in his life. When Qadir

wanted his help to peter out the dead body, Arif could have rejected it. But he feels no reaction in his mind; rather

he thinks some indomitable force pushing him towards the concluding scene of life. Even he cannot not

understand what Qadir expects him to do: “It was not possible for him to distinguish truth from untruth, the

common from uncommon, right from wrong any more’ which creates a complete absurd situation” (Walliullah,

2006, p. 90). Incorporating Qadir to evacuate the dead body and then complaining to the police against Qadir

makes the circumstances even more absurd that intensifies Arif Ali’s existential crisis. In the end of both Chander

Amabasya and The Outsider neither Mersault nor Arif Ali’s life gets a rational meaning or order. They have

troubles dealing with their individual history against the national, although they continuously struggle to

rationalize their nihilistic ideologies. This struggle to find meaning where none exists is what the existentialists

call, “the absurd”. So strong is their desire to acquire the meaning of life that they dismiss out of hand the idea that

there is nothing to be found. When they realize the meaninglessness of their existence in that religiously occupied

“absurd” society, they start living in the moment accepting death as the ultimate, yet absurd conclusion of life,


871

through which they try to liberate themselves from the unattained pile of questions beneath their minds.

Conclusion

Growing up in the dawn of French colonization in Algeria or in the dusk of British empire in Bengal; both

Meursault and Arif Ali indulge their personal history against the national history that interrogates the

protagonists’ existence in the realm of sufferings. Existentialism, the philosophy that mankind is entirely free and

therefore responsible for their own actions, is prevalent in The Outsider and Chander Amabasya from each

writers’ cultural perspectives. There is also a concern with death and its inevitability in both novels. The writers

involved their protagonists facing ethical dilemmas in the face of their realization that life is absurd and that it has

no purpose in the world where there is no God, no caring, no love, and ultimately no meaning beyond death. This

is where the cruel history wins and the colonized Arif Ali unites with colonizer Meursault, and none seems happy.

References

Aldridge, A. O. (1969). Comparative literature: Matter and method. Chicago: University of Illinois Press Urbana, IL. Bassnett, S. (1993). Comparative literature: A critical introduction. Oxford: Blackwell. Camus, A. (2000). The outsider. New York: Penguin. Guillen, C. (1993). The challenges of comparative literature. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Horowitz, L. K. (2006). Of women and Arabs: Sexual and racial polarization in Camus. Retrieved from

http://www.jstor.org/stable/3194734 Rafi, A. S. M. (2012). The comparative nature in comparative literature: A case-study of some major Bengali literary works in

conjunction of other national literatures. Bangladesh Research Foundation Journal, 1, 89. Waliullah, S. (2009). Chander Amabasya (8th ed.). Dhaka: Nouroze. Walliullah, S. (2006). Night of No Moon. In A. Dil (Trans.). Dhaka: WritersInk.


George Orwell’s Non-linear Narrative in The Road To Wigan Pier

Bechir Chaabane

Preparatory Institute for Engineering Studies of Sfax, Sfax, Tunisia

Sfax University, Sfax, Tunisia

Orwell’s text The Road to Wigan Pier, henceforth referred to as RWP, is problematic due to the ambiguity of its

status as a literary genre. The text is subversive on many levels, namely on the level of form. In order to show some

aspects of the author’s challenge of the conventional norms and methods of literary writing, a comparison between

the writer’s original diary of the journey to the industrial North of England, the main site of the coal mines, and the

present book could be of great import. This reveals the author’s genuine intellectual ability to manipulate and

rearrange the events and scenes of the story on the discourse level. The author’s manipulation and rearrangement of

the story (the journey), events and scenes, clearly reveals his potential literary creativity and imagination. Orwell

has deployed many strategies to fulfil this purpose. Each strategy is actually a contribution to the author’s overall

argument and at the same time it constitutes a further aspect of subversion. The first aspect of subversion lies on the

level of form itself. The form of the book is effectively very challenging. Contrary to the conventional view of the

fictional novel, the study of Orwell’s text based on Gérard Genette’s model reveals his challenge of the basic

novelistic parameters. The novelistic ingredients such as setting, characterisation, and plot development have been

treated in a subverting way. Though not totally discarded, they have been manipulated for the purpose of the

author’s general argument, which is Socialism. For instance, characters in the novel are treated as types, that is,

representatives of their class. Besides, the order of scenes and events has been rearranged for the purpose of

foregrounding representative scenes like the description of the Brookers’ lodging-house. The author’s treatment of

the material of the text is primarily based on his personal experience as an outside observer during his journey to the

North. Therefore, the exploration of the novel from a structuralist perspective based on Genette’s model does not

merely aim at the pure application of some literary and critical approaches to Orwell’s text. This may be misleading

since the investigation may fall in superficiality and simplicity. But the strategy deployed is actually a further

contribution to the author’s general argument and a manifestation of the novel’s status as a creative and subversive

text.

Keywords: literariness, fictionality, temporality, non-linearity, defamiliarization, structuralism, formalism,

socialism

Introduction

The notion of fictionality and its relation to the concept of literariness has a crucial significance in literature.

Bechir Chaabane, Ph.D. candidate, Preparatory Institute for Engineering Studies of Sfax; Faculty of Letters, Arts and

Humanities, Sfax University.

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GEORGE ORWELL’S NON-LINEAR NARRATIVE IN THE ROAD TO WIGAN PIER 873

In fact, the fictional status of a literary work has been a controversial issue among literary theorists and critics for

a long period of time. The polemical nature of a literary work’s fictionality and literariness, namely, George

Orwell’s book The Road to Wigan Pier, has been the subject of much debate. This book is actually very

problematic. The first problem it raises is that it was published in 1937 by Victor Gollancs (The Left Book Club)

who commissioned Orwell to visit areas of mass-unemployment in Lancashire and Yorkshire—the northern

industrial areas of England. Second, the book is a literary work taught as part of the literature programme in

English departments. Third, the book is considered as nonfiction. In fact, Malcolm Bradbury classifies it as

nonfiction in The Modern British Novel (p. 237). Finally, it may belong to literary journalism, especially that

George Orwell is known as a journalist, essayist, and novelist. Crick (1992) in George Orwell: A life poses the

problem as follows:

The difficulty is that the whole documentary genre of the 1930s dwells in the borderlands between fact and fiction, sometimes clearly on one side of the line, like Down and Out in Paris and London, sometimes clearly on the other, like Homage to Catalonia; but occasionally like The Road to Wigan Pier, parts of the book straddle the border ambiguously. (p. 288)

The first text is considered as a documentary and factual work while the second one is classified as fictional

and imaginative. However, the status of the third, that is, The Road to Wigan pier is ambiguous. In fact, there are

different attitudes towards the status of this text. For instance, Fowler (1995) in The Language of Orwell states

that: “…in his descriptive writing, even treating as a concrete material subject such as an industrial town, Orwell

is definitely a literary rather than a documentary writer” (p. 86). Orwell is not only a literary writer but also a

political one who is aware of the important issues of that particular historical stage in the 1930s. Crick (1992),

talking about Orwell’s dilemma, similar to the other writers at that time, states that “He still was not sure where

he stood, but he was sure that the main dilemmas expressed themselves in political terms” (p. 277). Finally,

Hunter (1984) argues that “When Orwell moves to The Road to Wigan Pier he returns to documentary narrative

and to a first person narrator” (p. 46). She also adds that “One important aspect he has learned to make obvious is

that the differences between fiction and documentary, whatever else, are not primarily those between truth and

falsity” (p. 46). Therefore, these diverging views reveal the problematic status of this text.

The previous statements lead to a paradox. These are seemingly contradictory statements about the text,

hence the following questions. What is literature as opposed to non-literature? In other words, what may the

distinctive features of a literary text be and what are the border lines between literature and non-literature?

However, the critic Williams tackles the problem in a completely different way. Williams (1984) argues in

his book entitled Orwell that:

Nothing is clearer, as we look into the work as a whole, than that this conventional division is secondary. The key problem, in all this work, is the relation between fact and fiction: an uncertain relation which is part of the whole crisis of being a writer. (p. 41)

Williams further explains that the rigid distinction, or conventional dualism, between factual/documentary

and fictional/imaginative is based on “a naïve definition of the real world, and then a naïve separation of it from

the observation and imagination of men” (p. 41).

Therefore, critics such as Williams claim that any separation between factual and fictional or between


documentary and imaginative causes much harm to literature and obscures many problems of literary writing (p.

42). Rather than division and separation, the association between the imaginative and documentary works is the

most salient feature of Orwell’s writings in the 1930s. That is why Orwell views the problem, “more than a mere

formal one, but rather as a problem of social relations” (Orwell, 1984, p. 42). Based on this premise, a

redefinition of fictionality, which will be an alternative to the conventional common belief, should be readily

advanced. Our thesis statement is that fictionality should not be defined in terms of lack or absence of context, but

as an interaction between text and context. Thus, no discourse should be dissociated from its specific context.

This conception of fictionality in its close relation to literariness has made of The Road to Wigan Pier a

subversive novel both on the levels of form and content.

This problem could be tackled from different angles, but the strategy in this paper consists exclusively in

defining literature from a formalist perspective. Russian Formalism and especially Jakobson’s Structuralist

Poetics have greatly contributed to the study of literary texts and their presumed inherent formal features which

make them distinct from other non-literary genres. Despite the Formalists’ code-centred approach which has

isolated the literary work from its social dimension, the structuralist mode of text analysis will be applied to

Orwell’s text to reveal its literariness as well as its author’s potential literary ability to manipulate linguistic tools

for his own purposes. That is why form should not be completely discarded in the study of any literary text such

as RWP.

The purpose of this research is to advance a conception of fictionality according to which the fictionality of

Orwell’s narrative discourse can be defined not solely in terms of truth-falsity criteria, but mainly in terms of its

interactive and communicative effect in social reality. Orwell’s interaction with his specific socio-political

context has encoded in the text certain ideological attitudes which will be decoded through the process of

interpretation. Therefore, the research will reveal what specific analytic tools can be deployed, how they are used,

and for what purpose(s).

Table 1

The Elements of a Structuralist Mode of Text Analysis Categories and strategies

Temporal structure

moment of narration order duration frequency

Mood/focalization

Conjecturing-generalizing Exaggeration-mitigation Juxtaposition Augmentation

Voice

- initial narrator - narrator’s splitting process ° younger narrator ° older narrator ° bourgeois Socialist narrator

The analysis of George Orwell’s text The Road To Wigan Pier (RWP) will be essentially explored from a

structuralist perspective with special emphasis on Genette’s model to show that it is a non-linear narrative. This

task exclusively consists in the study of temporality in the text, as a subversive tool, with its four constitutive

elements, namely, the categories of the moment of narration, order, duration, and frequency (see Table 1). The


general purpose of this analysis, which is based on the aforementioned approach, is to present more validity to the

thesis proposed in this research paper.

Findings and Discussion

Though there are differences between Proust’s A La recherche du temps perdu (In Search of Lost Time) and

Orwell’s RWP, this strategy consists in the deployment of a detailed formal analysis of Orwell’s text with

particular focus on its temporal structure. This method, although based on the conventional criteria of a narrative,

may have the essential justification to permit an accurate determination of the points on which such a text exceeds

such norms. Therefore, the aim of this investigation is to show the extent to which this creative text has deviated

from the fixed standards of a narrative, to show its complexity, hence its literariness and fictionality.

Gérard Genette’s model applied to Proust’s A la recherche du temp perdu (In Search of Lost Time) will be

adopted as the approach which best lends itself to the structural analysis of Orwell’s book RWP. Temporality and

its different categories constitute the fields of study as well as the levels of definition of Orwell’s narrative text.

Therefore, the analysis of this non-linear narrative discourse consists in the study of the relationships among the

original diary, the narrative text and narration.

Temporal Analysis of the Text

One of the crucial features of a text’s literariness is its temporal duality. This duality is indicated by the

discordance in the relationship between the order of the story, diegesis, and that of the narrative. That is why, in

order to study the temporal structure in Orwell’s narrative, it is essential to measure and identify the reference

marks of these narrative anachronies or what Genette calls “forms of discordance”.

The first temporal segment in the opening chapter of RWP is situated late enough in the life of the hero. The

first time in the narrative order is actually not the first one in the diegetic order, that is, in the author’s diary of the

journey to the northern industrial areas of England. In fact, the chronological order of the events in the original

diary is different from the sequence of events as arranged and presented by the narrator in the written text. As

Stansky and Abrahams (1994) noticed in their book Orwell: The Transformation:

Unlike the day-by-day, chronological form of the diary, the book begins in the middle of the journey (Indeed, the sense of a journey, of the author being an “assignment”, has been artfully suppressed). In the first chapter we are simply there-in an unnamed industrial town in the North-with “I” the narrator, who is staying in squalid lodgings over a squalid tripe shop owned by a squalid couple, the Brookers. (pp. 186-87)

The opening chapter of the book is introduced by the sound of footsteps “the clumping of the mill-girls’

clogs down the cobbled street” (RWP 5) as well as that of the factory whistles early in the morning in the northern

industrial town Wigan, Lancashire. After this short introductory paragraph, the narrator proceeds to draw a

detailed picture of the Brookers family, their members, their lodging-house, their tripe shop, and their tenants.

However, compared to the sequence of the original diary, this scene lies in the middle of the author’s

two-month journey to the North which started from London on 31st January 1936 to 30th March 1936. His stay in

Wigan, the longest stop in his itenerary, lasted from 10th to 25th February 1936. Thus, the period from the 31st

January to the 10th February is an ellipsis of time in the narrative text. In fact, before Wigan, and specifically

before his stay at the Brookers, he had visited Coventry (31st January), Birmingham (1st February), Stourbridge

(2nd February), Hanley (3rd February), and finally Manchester (4th-10th February). In Manchester, he stayed at


the Meades from 6th to 10th February. Also, when he arrived at Wigan, he shared a room in an overcrowded

house whose owners he calls the Hs. Before moving to Darlington Road with the Brookers, the Fs, he had stayed

in John and Lily Anderson’s house in Warrington Lane. Crick (1992), in his book George Orwell: A life, states

that: “The Road to Wigan Pier says nothing of Warrington Lane and begins in the famous tripe shop; and the

sudden appearance of an ‘I’, waking to the ‘clumping of the mill-girls clogs down the cobbled street’, is as

unexplained and as abrupt as in Down and Out” (p. 281).

Certainly, the arrangement of the events in the narrative in a way different from that in the Diary will serve

Orwell’s purpose of writing his book. His description of the squalor of the Brookers “lodging house” and the

squalid housing in the North, in particular, contributes to the general picture he wants to make. In fact, his

strategy is to focus on the various negative effects of Capitalism and to argue for the necessity of Socialism as an

alternative system. Thus, this first narrative segment has a very significant impact on the narrator’s experience. It

has a key position and is strategically dominant in the narration and in the narrator’s development; “the more he

had seen and experienced for himself of housing in Wigan, the more impressive, authoritative (and influential)

the total picture might have been” (Stansky & Abrahams, 1994, p. 189).

One minor example which shows the evidence of the literary process in the book is what Williams (1974)

calls, in George Orwell: A Collection of Critical Essays, a shift in the lodgers:

He [the writer] seems also to have shifted the lodgers around a bit: Joe, at the Brookers, is described in the notes as a lodger at a previous house—a house that is not in the book. So in the book the Brookers house is not only given the emphasis of first place but treated as a first, representative experience… when in the diary there is a preceding and rather different experience. (Williams, 1974, p. 59)1

This small example, Williams explains, is an illustration of the writer’s “documentary” experience: “The

writer shapes and organizes what happened to produce a particular effect, based on experience but then created

out of it” (Williams, 1974, p. 59). Therefore, written human experience and the overall organization of the

material are actually recognized as literature and as explicit fictionality, too.

As for the temporal structure of the book, it is effectively very complex. That is why a rigorous analysis of

this system requires the study of the four interrelated questions: the moment of narration, order, duration, and

frequency.

The Moment of Narration

Besides the omissions of places visited and the shift in lodges, the temporal difference between the original

Diary (story-Now) and the narrative text (discourse-Now) is also an inherent feature of the book’s literariness. In

fact, the lapse of time which differentiates the writing of the book from the writing of the Diary, that is the journey

to the North, is another procedure used to mark the fictionality of the narrative discourse.

Crick (1992), in his book entitled George Orwell: A life, stated that in January 1936 Orwell was

commissioned by Gollancz for the Communist-dominated Left Book Club to report on mass unemployment in

the North. In fact, he offered him an advance of £500. It “was about twice the amount Orwell counted on for each

year’s survival; so he could now plan ahead, and indeed marry Eileen” (Crick, 1992, p. 278). He added that: “For

1 In the Diary, Joe is mentioned as a single, unemployed lodger at the lodging house where Orwell stayed before he moved to the Fs, that is, the Brookers. Yet, in the book, Joe is a lodger at the Brookers’.


the first time he could feel reasonably secure, even modestly successful, as a professional writer” (Crick, 1992, p.

278). Orwell was in the North for two months, from 31st January to 30th March, living with working and

unemployed people in Wigan, Barnsley, and Sheffield. Orwell got married in June and sent the finished

manuscript to his agent on 15th December 1936. Stansky and Abrahams (1994) stated that “He [Orwell] would

have a rough first draft of The Road to Wigan Pier done by October, and he would send off the final version to

Leonard Moore in December 36” (p. 186). The book was finally published in 1937.

Similar to the most common narratives, narration in Orwell’s text is characterized by the anteriority of the

story’s events to those of the discourse. That is why the events of the Diary are supposed to have happened before

the recounted events in the discourse. Obviously, retrospective narration produces a past-tense narrative. This

type of narration can be illustrated by the following passage from chapter One.

The train bore me away, through the monstrous scenery of slag-heaps, chimneys, piled scrap-iron, foul canals, paths of cindery and crisscrossed by the prints of clogs. This was March, but the weather had been horribly cold and everywhere there were mounds of blackened snow. As we moved slowly through the outskirts of the town we passed row after row of little grey slum houses running at right angles to the embankment. (Orwell, 1982, p. 16)

This passage indicates that the normal tense of narration in English is the past tense. Here, the narrator is

relating an event which he personally experienced before writing the narrative. The past tense is indicated by

either the simple past (bore, was, were, moved, passed), showing a sequence of past events, or the past perfect

(had been). The time word mentioned in the text is “March” which indicates a period of time prior to the moment

of narration. Further in the book, another illustration can be spotted in chapter four: “When I was looking into the

house question I visited and inspected numbers of houses, perhaps a hundred or two hundred houses altogether, in

various mining towns and villages…” (Orwell, 1982, p. 65). This is another event which the narrator personally

experienced and he is relating it at the moment of narration. As in the previous passage, the tense used is the past,

namely, the continuous past (was looking) and the simple past (visited, inspected). Since he is personally

involved in the narrative, the indicative mood is predominant.

Yet, the author may resort to present-tense narration as in the following passage from chapter two:

[…] we all know that we “must have coal”, but we seldom or never remember what coal getting involves. Here am I, sitting writing in front of my comfortable coal fire. It is April but I still need a fire. Once a fortnight the coal cart drives up to the door and men in leather jerkins carry the coal indoors in stout sacks smelling of tar and shoot it clanking into the coal-hole under the stairs. (Orwell, 1982, p. 30)

In addition to the past tense, the narrator uses the present tense either for description or relating habitual

events.

Therefore, this brief survey of the first question related to the analysis of the temporal structure in Orwell’s

book, that is, the moment of narration, has revealed the nature of this text. As a narrative discourse, the events are

recounted in the past. Nevertheless, the prevalence of past-tense narration in most narrative discourses does not

prevent present-tense narration from being dominant in both parts of Orwell’s text. So, the category which will be

tackled after the moment of narration is the class of order.

Order

The second question related to time analysis in RWP is the study of the aspects of discordance, anachronies,


in the chronological order of events. Focus will essentially be on the narrator’s digressions in the second part of

the narrative. Five main retrospective narrative segments will be selected from chapters 8 and 9 in order to

discuss the different techniques used by the narrator in his general approach to Socialism.

At the beginning of the second part of the discourse, the narrator has explicitly expressed his intention to

defend his ideology. For this purpose, he has adopted some strategies throughout his narrative discourse. In the

first part, he has presented a “fragmentary account” of mass-unemployment at its worst in “the most typical

section of the English working class at close quarters” (Orwell, 1982, p. 106). He believes that it is a vital part in

his view of Socialism. In the second part, he has resorted to reminiscences since he believes that these

biographical elements “have a symptomatic importance” to present him as a typical of his class-a “sub-caste”

(Orwell, 1982, p. 106).

In order to conduct a detailed analysis of the anachronous segments in the discourse, one can work on a

discourse time-line model so that the retrospective narrative fragments are situated in proper sequence. This

time-line model can help visualize the retrospections in linear movement. It also enables one to foreground

significant discrepancies between narration time and the story time. For this purpose a discourse time-line model

will be drawn up. Each unit corresponds to one of the autobiographical sequences figuring in the text.

Table 2

Analepsis as a Technique in the Analysis of Narrative Order Autobiographical sequences

Discourse Unit Year Age Textual details

Narration time line

A 1903-1916 1-13 - genteel birth - childhood

B 1917-1918 14-15 - education: oppressive system - acquisition of bourgeois habits and class prejudices

C 1920-1921 17-18 - being both a snob and a revolutionary - refusal of all authority

D 1922-1927 19-24 - an “outpost of Empire” in Burma - hatred of imperialism

E 1928-1935 25-32 - Return to London - Getting in contact with outcasts in London

Journey 31st January-30th March 33 - journey to the north of England - report on mass-unemployment in industrial areas

In order to discuss Table 2, it would be better to sort out brief excerpts from the narrative illustrating some

cases of analepsis. The following autobiographical sequences will help us in the study of narrative order in the

text:

A/ I was born into what you might describe as the lower-upper-middle class. The upper-middle class [...] was a sort of mound of wreckage left behind when the tide of Victorian prosperity receded… (Orwell, 1982, p. 106)

B/ When I was fourteen or fifteen I was odious little snob, but no worse than other boys of my own age and class. I suppose there is no place in the world where snobbery is quite so ever present or where it is cultivated in such refined and subtle forms as in an English public school… (Orwell, 1982, p. 120)

C/ Hence, at the age of seventeen or eighteen, I was both a snob and a revolutionary. I was against all authority. I had read and re-read the entire published works of Shaw, Wells, and Galsworthy […], and I loosely described myself as a socialist. But I had not much grasp of what Socialism meant, and no notion that the working class were human beings… (Orwell, 1982, p. 122)


D/ When I was not yet twenty I went to Burma, in the Indian Imperial Police. In an “outpost of Empire” like Burma the class-question appeared at first sight to have been shelved… I was in the Indian Police five years, and by the end of that time I hated the imperialism I was serving with a bitterness which I probably cannot make clear… (Orwell, 1982, pp. 123-126)

E/ When I came home on leave in 1927 I was already half determined to throw my job […] I was not going back to be part of that evil despotism. For five years I had been part of an oppressive system, and it had left me with a bad conscience […] I thought it over and decided what I would do […] I would find out about tramps and how you got in touch with them and what was the proper procedure for entering the casual ward, when I felt that I knew the ropes well enough, I would go on the road myself… (Orwell, 1982, pp. 129-132)

These five excerpts which reside in Part two, chapters 8 and 9, constitute overt “autobiographical”

references. By means of this technique, analepsis, the narrator breaks the linearity of the narrative discourse so as

to present the different stages in the character’s development. These elements are retrospectively presented in the

same way as the initial ones in Part one of the narrative text. Thus, the retrospection sends us back to significant

milestones in the life of the narrator. The autobiographical references are presented in a chronological order. This

regular progress allows the young narrator to near gradually the older one till they ultimately join each other. This

advance occurs on a different temporal axis from the other grown-up narrator.

The first excerpt lies in the opening chapter of Part two, chapter 8. The starting point is an exposition of the

ambiguity of the reasons for taking his long road from Mandalay, Burma, to Wigan as well as the reasons for his

journey to the North. Then, the narrator evokes his genteel birth: “I was born in what you might describe as the

lower upper-middle class” (Orwell, 1982, p. 106). This excerpt and the following ones allow a digression from

the present to the past life of the narrator. His social status, born in a “shabby genteel family” (Orwell, 1982, p.

108) that belongs to a “Shadowy caste-system” (Orwell, 1982, p. 107), is no longer explicated in terms of money.

The distinguishing feature of this “decadent” and “wrecked” upper-middle class is that “its traditions were not to

any extent commercial, but mainly military, official and professioal” (Orwell, 1982, p. 107). Hoggart (1965), in

his essay “Introduction to The Road to Wigan Pier”2, contends that Orwell has a characteristic effort at precision

in matters of class: “His point was that his father was a public servant, not a landowner nor a big businessman; so,

though he had the rank, status and tastes of a gentleman, his salary was modest. He was, in fact, a minor official in

the Indian Customs service” (Hoggart, 1965, p. 35). Thus, the low family income of the “lower-upper middle

class” is similar to that of the average working class. This characteristic is a basis and common ground on which

a rapprochement between the two exploited classes can be built. Both classes share the same interest and are

exploited by an unjust regime, the capitalist system.

The second and third autobiographical sequences are very significant in that this phase, his youth and

education, will have a great impact on the character’s stance. In retrospect, he is able to see why he was wrong. In

fact, looking back on his past experience, the humiliating punishments at school, the false values of the bourgeois

class and snobbery, he becomes aware of the oppressive Capitalist system and social injustice. Thus, the

representation of this retrospective experience in the narrative is part of the narrator’s strategy and adds more

weight to his argument.

The fourth and fifth autobiographical sequences are a further illustration of analepsis in Orwell’s text. The

2 This essay appeared in George Orwell. A Collection of critical Essays, edited by Raymond Williams. It first appeared in London, published by Heinmann Educational Books in 1965.


narrator’s personal experience as an “outpost of Empire” in Burma, in addition to the aforementioned

autobiographical elements, has a great effect on his future life. This experience increased his hatred of

imperialism as an oppressive system. That is why, when he returned to England in 1927, he took a decision not to

return to India. Instead, he got in contact with the outcasts in London to know more about their conditions of life.3

The narrator becomes more and more conscious about the tyranny and injustice of the imperialist system,

the “unjustifiable tyranny” (Orwell, 1982, p. 127). He puts forward his argument straightforwardly: “The truth is

that no modern man, in his heart of hearts, believes that it is right to invade a foreign country and hold the

population by force. Foreign oppression is a much more obvious, untreatable evil than economic oppression”

(Orwell, 1982, p. 126). He further draws an analogy between the economic system of exploitation in England and

the British oppressive imperialist regime in India. Soon this makes him loathe both systems and decide to reject

any form of domination and oppression. “I felt that I had got to escape not merely from imperialism but from

every form of man’s dominion among their tyrants” (Orwell, 1982, p. 130). Fowler (1995), in his book The

language of George Orwell talks about the young man’s experiences in Burma which:

[…] he found morally distasteful but politically illuminating; whatever his precise reasons for quitting the Imperial Indian Police, it is clear that he was disgusted with and outraged by the effects of imperialism on the ground, and guilty about his part in the process. (p. 120)

Because he has been part of the imperialist oppressive system for five years, he feels extremely ashamed and

he is left with a bad conscience. Therefore, his experience in Burma, with its evil effects on him, has greatly

contributed to his development and awareness.

To conclude, these autobiographical sequences are related in a later period in the narrative. The account of

the narrator’s earlier experiences is obviously anterior to the starting point of the first narrative. The narrator has

postponed these autobiographical references; then he ultimately filled the gaps. This retrospective temporal gap

filling responds to the narrator’s need of making the appalling conditions the focal point of the narrative.

Therefore, these retrospective segments are one aspect of the distortion of the temporal order in RWP as well as a

further characteristic of the author’s literary creativity. His shaping of the narrative through the systematic

re-arrangement of events and scenes is a deliberate choice. The aspects of analepsis figuring in Table 2

correspond to the autobiographical segments from the text. They are also instances of the violation of the

chronological order of events in the story. Therefore, the emancipation from these restrictions shows the author’s

creativity as well as the literariness of the text.

Duration

The third category in the narratological analysis of time in RWP is duration. It consists in the relationship

between two different types of time in the text: story time, that is, the fictional time taken up by action (measured

in days, months, years ,etc.); and discourse time, that is the time it takes a reader to read the text (measured in

lines, pages, etc.). The play on these two naturally different times, story time, and discourse time, yields several 3 Isabelle Jarry in George Orwell. One Hundred Years of Anticipation, has developed this idea as follows: He came home [from Burma] perfectly disgusted by imperialism. He who had already shown, during his schooling, a serious resistance to any form of authority which ended to support his rebellion from within the colonial system. True, he could have looked though not easily, more closely at the coercive methods of the British in India; by donning the costume of a policeman, he had the most brutal and most direct vision that the huge machine could give to dominate and exploit what was then the Empire (Jarry 21).


effects of meaning.

The analysis of duration also involves speed and the rhythmic system in the text. This study permits the

determination of the places of speed-up and slow-down figuring in the narrative. Thus, focus will be on the

different techniques used in RWP which allow the narrative to accelerate, namely, ellipses; and those which

permit it to decelerate namely, pauses. Both strategies will determine the rhythm of the temporal movement in the

text.

Ellipsis. In order to conduct the study of the first aspect of duration, ellipsis, a comparison between the

original diary and the narrative may reveal the numerous cuts made by the narrator. The main omissions will be

presented on the table including spatio-temporal references, the names of some families with whom the narrator

lived during his journey as well as their addresses, and other details. Table 3 will be discussed so as to determine

the effects of these omissions on the narrative in general and on the narrator’s purpose in particular.

Table 3

Ellipsis as a Technique in Manipulation of Duration Unit Time Town Family/Address Experiences

A 25 February-2nd March Liverpool The Deiners : John and May Deiner (working-class family)

Meeting George Garrett, a Communist dockerTaken by Garrett to the docks in Liverpool Visiting Corporation Buildings

B 2nd-5th March Sheffield The Searles (a decent family) Wallace Road

Meeting William Brown a Communist partially-crippled man “B” Being exhausted by Brown’s arguments and itinerary Rooks Corpulating scene Slums-girl scene

C 5-13 March Leeds

The Dakins (a middle-class family)His sister Marjorie and her husband Humphrey Dakin 21 Estcourt Avenue, Headingley

Taken to see haworth Parsonage, the Brontë family home etc.) Attending meetings and discussions

D 13-25 March Barnsley

The Gs Mr and Mrs G (working-class family)Agnes Terrace Very clean and decent house

Meeting Tommy Degnan a Communist. Descent to Wentworth Pit Descent to Grimethorpe Pit Attending with Wilde a general meeting Listening to Mosley at Public Hall

E 26-30 March Leeds The Dakins Marjorie and Humphrey Dakin 21 Estcourt Avenue, Headingley

Spending weekend at Dakins

F 30 March London - Back home - Return to the South from the North

An overall look at Table 3 reveals the number of experiences and stops eliminated or rather disregarded in

the narrative despite their actual occurrence. In fact, these are significant stops which are essential constituents of

the protagonist’s itinerary to the North. Yet, the narrator’s strategy is mainly to put emphasis on particular

experiences which are pertinent to his general purpose. Moreover, he is not interested in what he sees but rather in

how he perceives reality. The narrator’s decision to live among the “lower depths” during his journey to the north

rather than with “decent” people and in “decent” lodgings or hotels is deliberate

In addition to his deliberate choice of lodgings and much emphasis on experiences pertinent to his purpose,

the narrator has adopted another strategy. By means of the technique of ellipses, the narrator has avoided not only

to live in decent lodgings but also to mention those he stayed at in his narrative. In fact, he recorded in the Diary

that, after his descent into the coal pit in Wigan, he had a hot bath in the Brookers’ lodging-house, “I went home


and had dinner and then soaked myself for a long time in a hot bath. Of course very few miners have baths in their

homes-only a tub of water in front of the kitchen fire. I should say it would be quite impossible to keep clean

without a proper bathtub” (Orwell & Augus, 1968, p. 213).

As he simply gave up clean and decent lodgings that were found for him, he equally disregarded all the other

decent houses after his long stop in Wigan. In fact, as the table unveils this truth, there are other decent families

which provided him with accommodation, including his sister Marjorie. Some of these families belong to

working class while others are middle class ones. First, as Table 3 shows in Unit A, he stayed at the Deiners (John

and May Deiner), a working class family in Liverpool after his departure from Wigan from 25 February to 2nd

March 1936. George Garrett, a Communist docker, took him down to the docks in Liverpool to see a “gang” of

men waiting in hope of work “the company agent picked out fifty at random from two hundred hungry and ragged

men waiting” (Crick, 1992, p. 285). The Deiners also drove both Orwell and Garrett around the town to see the

slums and slum clearance.

Unit B in Table 3 stands for the next stop in the narrator’s itinerary but omitted from the

narrative—Sheffield. He stayed at the Searles—a working class family. In his Diary, Orwell affirms that: “I have

seldom met people with more natural decency” (Orwell & Augus, 1968, p. 219). Further, he adds “They keep the

house very clean and decent” (Orwell & Augus, 1968, p. 220). The narrator spent three days, from 2nd March to

5th March, touring Sheffield with William Brown—a Communist partially-crippled man:

Either the arguments or the itinerary of the fiery William Brown left Orwell exhausted, so he cut short his stay in Sheffield after three days and went across to his welcoming sister and hostile brother-in-law in Leeds, where he stayed the best part of the week. (Crick, 1992, p. 290)

Units C and E refer to two significant stops though at the same place, Leeds. He effectively stayed with the

Dakins, his elder sister Marjorie and her husband Humphrey Dakin, twice: the first stay, from 5th March to 13th

March; and the second one from 26 March to 30 March. His experience with this middle-class family, living at 21

Estcourt Avenue, Headingley is equally disregarded in the narrative and completely deleted. During his stay at

the Dakins, the narrator was quite conscious all the while of the big difference in the atmosphere between a

middle-class home and a working-class home.

Unit D, that is, the two-week stop at Barnsley is interposed between the two-previously stops in Leeds. This

long stop lasted from 13th March to 25th March. The narrator stayed at the Gs, a working-class house at Agnes

Terrace. Though two coal miners, Mr and Mrs G owned a big house: “This house is bigger than I had imagined”

(Orwell & Augus, 1968, p. 226). He also added: “The house is very clean and decent and my room the best I have

had in Lodgings up here. Flannelette sheets this time” (Orwell & Augus, 1968, p. 227). He further affirmed his

appreciative attitude about this house as follows: “I am very comfortable in this house… ” (Orwell & Augus,

1968, p. 228). But the narrator also had additional activities in Barnsley, namely, meetings attendance, coal-pit

descents and listening to Socialist Mosley speaking at the Public Hall in Barnsley.

Consequently, the discussion of this table permits to shed light on one aspect of the discrepancy between

story time and discourse time in RWP. This discrepancy is accomplished by means of the distortion of the

category of duration, particularly through the resort to ellipses. This process has brought about various effects

that we can sum up as follows:


Author’s intentionality: The focus on dirt, poverty, and smell in the narrative in contrast to cleanness,

decency, and comfort found in the omitted sequences shows the author’s intention to zoom in on the negative

aspect of the capitalistic system.

Author’s ideological commitment: The emphasis put on the negative side of the Western social system is a

step further towards the writer’s argument.

Subjectivity/objectivity polarity: focalization puts in question the author’s objectivity and reliability as a

faithful reporter. Thus, RWP cannot be considered as a mere reportage.

Reality/Fictionality: The author’s deliberate arrangement and shaping of his material shows his creativity,

hence the literariness and fictionality of the narrative. That is why, Orwell’s text cannot be considered as a mere

autobiography. The autobiographical sequences, whether omitted or represented in the narrative, serve to further

the writer’s political stance. Though there are autobiographical elements in the discourse, they are fictionalized in

the text. Indeed, they are not represented in a chronological sequence as it is the usual norm for autobiographical

works. They are shaped by the narrator and presented retrospectively to add more weight to the general argument

of the text.

Pause. The second aspect of duration in RWP, in addition to ellipsis, is pause. Narrative pause, as previously

explicated in methodology, occurs when discourse time elapses on description or comment. A diagrammatic

representation can be used to conduct the notion of pause in Orwell’s text. Then, this diagram will be followed by

discussion so as to study its effect on the author’s general purpose of the book as a whole. In other words,

narrative pause will be deployed as a further step in the advance of the writer’s argument.

Table 4

Pause as a Technique in the Presentation of Narrative Duration Overall organization of narrative in terms of duration

Discourse time line

Unit Parts Time Pages Chapters

A Part one-Journey 31st January-30th March 1936 (2 months)

pp.1 105 1 7

B Part two-Autobiographical sequences

1903-1936 (33 years) pp.106 134 89

As Table 4 indicates, studying the effects of rhythm on the macroscopic level seems more pertinent. In fact,

this process consists in the cutting of the text into two main “big narrative syntagms” (Genette, 1972, p. 124).

This table of variations presents both the big narrative articulations and the internal chronology to measure their

story time. Yet, it seems important to notice that these narrative segments do not always coincide with the

apparent divisions of the text into parts and chapters.4 The rhythm of the narrative is greatly determined by the

relationships between the internal narrative articulations and the external divisions (parts, chapters, etc.). Thus, a

suggested chronological sequence of RWP is put forward and it will be followed by speed variations of the text.

a) Chronological sequence: Two main units can be distinguished:

Unit A: Journey. This deals with experiences in the North (31st January-30th March 1936).

Unit B: Autobiographical sequences (1903-1936):

(1) This sequence concerns Eric’s birth in Bengal, India and his return to England with his mother. It may be

4 Unit A may coincide with Part one in the narrative whereas Unit B and its other sub-divisions may not.


called childhood (1903-1909).

(2) The following temporal segment is dominated by his adolescence years. It may be referred to as:

youth/education (1909-1922).

(3) The third period covers his “out-post” Imperial service in India. It may be named Burmese Days

(1922-1927).

(4) The last sequence has to do with the narrator’s first experience with the social outcasts on the outskirts of

London. It is called initial journey (1927-1936).

The main purpose of this approximately coherent chronology is to establish the rhythms of Orwell’s

narrative.

b) Speed Variations of the Narrative: According to the hypothesis suggested above, the big speed variations

in the narrative will be as follows:

A-Journey: 100 pages for two months.

B-Chronological experiences: 28 pages for 33 years:

Sub-divisions of Unit B:

(1) Childhood: 13 pages for five or six years.

(2) Youth / education: three pages for 12 or 13 years.

(3) Burmese Days: seven pages for five years.

(4) Initial journey: four pages for nine years.

Given these data, we can deduce the following conclusions:

(1) This global survey of speed variations of the narrative indicates the amplitude of these variations which

ranges from 100 pages for two months to 28 pages for a whole period of 33 years in the narrator’s lifetime. Thus,

there is a great discrepancy between the length of the discourse (discourse time) and the temporality of the story

(story time).

(2) The analysis of pause as a second aspect of duration in Orwell’s text elucidates the internal evolution of

the narrative. The progressive slowdown of the narrative is apparent in the first big narrative unit which relates

the narrator’s experiences in the industrial North. This slowdown gives free rein to long descriptive scenes

particularly about food, work, and housing conditions in the northern industrial areas. These significant long

scenes only cover a tiny duration of story.

(3) The presence of long descriptive scenes interspersed with ellipses marks the discontinuity of the

narrative. This discontinuity is also made apparent by the disequilibrium between the two big narrative units in

the text.

Yet, there is a great number of descriptive scenes in RWP whose nature is essentially iterative, that is, “they

do not relate to a particular moment in the story, but to a series of analogous moments, and consequently by no

means can contribute to the slow-down of the narrative, if not the opposite” (Genette, 1972, pp. 133-134). In fact,

description in Orwell’s text does not determine a narrative pause, a halt of the story or action. If the narrator

describes an object in detail, such as the Brookers’ lodging-house or the tripe-shop, or even work in coal-pits, this

interruption actually corresponds to a contemplative stop of the narrator himself. This stop is part of the

temporality of the story. Therefore, this second type of canonical movement, that is, narrative pause, is

transgressed by the Orwellian text. Description is resorbed in narration. This resorption makes description in


RWP, not merely a moment of intensive activity, both physical and intellectual. It is essentially an integral part in

the narrator’s argument. For instance, the narrator has created scenes throughout the novel. These scenes are

described in great detail to provide the reader with accurate information about the discussed problems in the text

such as housing, poverty, and mass-unemployment. This is always to serve his general purpose.

Frequency

Frequency is one of the essential aspects of narrative temporality. What Genette calls narrative frequency

are all the frequency relations between narrative and diegesis (Genette, 1972, p. 145). The analysis of this

temporal category will focus on two principal types of narrative frequency, namely, singulative and iterative

tellings. Four excerpts are chosen from Orwell’s text so as to study these two types of narrative in detail and to

show the primacy of the iterative narration in the book. Thus, in order to conduct a thorough analysis of the

iterative segments in the discourse, a table can be drawn to illustrate this strategy (see Table 5).

Table 5

Singulative-Iterative Telling as a Strategy in the Analysis of Narrative Frequency Discourse Unit Time Place Textual details

Story time line

A 15th February Wigan Slums’girl scene

B 20th February Wigan Coal-picking scene

C 21st February Wigan Brookers’moral portrait

D 23rd February Wigan Coal-pit descent

Four passages are selected from RWP in order to provide illustrations for the study of the category of

frequency. These illustrative excerpts will be discussed to elucidate the relationship between the two types of

singulative and iterative tellings. Each unit stands for one passage.

A/ […] As we moved slowly through the outskirts of the town we passed row after row of little grey slum houses running at right angles to the embankment. At the back of one of the houses a young woman was kneeling on the stones, poking a stick up the leaden waste-pipe which runs from the sink inside and which I suppose was blocked… She had a round pale face, the usual exhausted face of the slum girl who is twenty-five and looks forty, thanks to miscarriages and drudgery; and it wore… the most desolate, hopeless expression I have ever seen. (Orwell, 1982, p. 16)

B/ […] We stayed there [up the slag-heap] till the train was empty. In a couple of hours the people had picked the dirt over to the last grain. They slung their sacks over shoulder or bicycle, and started on the two-mile trudge back to Wigan… This business of robbing the dirt trains takes place every day in Wigan, at any rate in winter, and at more collieries than one. It is of course extremely dangerous. (Orwell, 1982, pp. 92-93)

C/ The meals at the Brookers’ house were uniformly disgusting. For breakfast you got two rashers of bacon and a pale fried egg, and bread-and-butter which had often been cut overnight and always has thumb-marks on it. However tactfully I tried, I could never induce Mr. Brooker to let me cut my own bread-and-butter; he would hand it to me slice by slice, each slice gripped firmly under that broad black thumb. For dinner there were generally those three penny steak puddings which are sold ready made in tins… For supper there was the pale flabby Lancashire cheese and biscuits. They always referred to them reverently as “cream crackers”… It was usual to souse everything, even a piece of cheese, with Worcester Sauce, but I never saw anyone brave the marmalade jar, which was an unspeakable mass of stickiness and dust. Mrs. Brooker had her meals separately… She had a habit of constantly wiping her blankets. Towards the end of my stay she took to tearing off strips of newspaper for this purpose, and in the morning the floor was often littered with crumpled-up balls of slimy paper which lay there for hours. The smell of the kitchen was dreadful but, as with that of the bedroom, you ceased to notice it after a while. (Orwell, 1982, pp. 13-14)


D/ When the coal has been extracted to the depth to which the machine has cut, the coal face had advanced by five feet… As far as possible the three operations of cutting, blasting, and extraction are done in three separate shifts, the cutting in the afternoon, the blasting at night…, and the “filling” in the morning shift, which lasts from six in the morning until half past one. (Orwell, 1982, pp. 28)5

Before discussing these excerpts, it is important to evoke the dominance of singulative telling in the

traditional novel. In fact, the iterative segments are supposed to be in the service of the singulative narrative and

hence dependent on it. The classical function of the iterative narrative is similar to that of description. That is why

Orwell’s text has shown a significant interest in the use of iterative narrative. The author devoted a great number

of pages, especially in Part one, which aim to relate the daily life of people such as the Brookers, the coal-miners

at work and the description of the appalling conditions of housing, food, and work in Wigan, Barnsley, and

Sheffield.

Unlike the short singulative segments at the beginning of Part two, namely, the autobiographical sequences;

these four iterative units have enough amplitude to be the object of developed narratives. Though they sometimes

represent a single event, there is an obvious passage from a singulative event, to a habit. For instance, the

description of the scene about the slums’ girl poking at a blocked waste-pipe produces a great effect on the

bourgeois reader. As Richard Hoggart puts it in his essay “Introduction to The Road to Wigan Pier”:

He [Orwell] was trying to correct that conveniently distant vision of other people’s problems, that face saving view of slum life and slum dwellers, which the training of his class offered him; he was insisting that people do hate living in slums…, that even if some have become so dispirited as not to seem to mind, or have adapted themselves, it is still rotten-rotten for them and rotten for what it does to the souls of those of us who are willing to let other people live die hard and they are like that. These are attitudes not dead yet. (Hoggart, 1965, pp. 42-43)

The juxtaposition of these three scenes, that is, the train leaving the town, the slums’girl and the two crooks

treading, has great effects not only on the narrator but also on the reader.

Hunter contends that the contrast between the image of the slums girl and the other two images “underlines

the narrator’s alienation and lack of understanding” (Hunter, 1984, p. 50). The narrator has never seen before the

situation of the two birds treading. Thus, he tries to defamiliarize it by rendering it “curious” and describing it in

a detailed manner.

The train leaving Wigan is a symbol of the narrator’s “escape bearing him away from the disgust of his

earlier experience” (Hunter, 1984, p. 50). Crick also depicts the train departure from Wigan as itself “a symbol of

the writer’s almost desperate pain at being merely an observer, a member of another class who, having done his

contracted task, is carried off remorselessly and mechanically simply to write about “what can be done” (Crick,

1992, p. 287). Thus, placing these three scenes together in the book differently from the Diary6, especially the

young woman and the drain juxtaposed to the birds procreating has a symbolic purpose: “the sterile doom of

industrial ugliness can be redeemed by nature, even the ugliest birds can procreate, even in an urban wasteland”

(Crick, 1992, p. 287).

Besides, placing antagonistic scenes juxtaposed with each other is a strategy used by the narrator which has

a twofold purpose. On the one hand, this technique shows the narrator’s great concern for his reader. In fact, as

5 The italics in the excerpts are mine except “would” in unit C; it is Orwell’s. 6 In the Diary the slums-girl scene happened on 15th February while passing up a horrible squalid side-alley in Wigan whereas the rooks scene occurred on 2nd March in Sheffield (Orwell & Augus, 1968, p. 203, 216).


Hunter puts it: “The largest concern is how to make familiar a situation that lies outside the lives of most of his

readers without imposing a private and dominating interpretation on it” (Hunter, 1984, p. 51). The reader is

directly involved in the narrator’s experience. On the other hand, the technique of juxtaposition also shows “a

poetic sensibility; the plain descriptive style of the documentary was, indeed, a very deliberate artistic creation”

(Crick, 1992, p. 287).

Apart from the usual exhausted face of the slums girl, Unit B deals with another aspect of daily life in a

northern industrial area like Wigan, what the narrator calls the “immense and systematic thieving by the

unemployed” (Orwell, 1982, p. 90). This process of “scrambling for the coal” (Orwell, 1982, p. 91) consists in

picking it out of the slag-heaps. The narrator was taken one afternoon by an unemployed miner to witness “the

wild rush of ragged figures” (Orwell, 1982, p. 92) and describe this horrific daily scene:

Everyone knows that the unemployed have got to get fuel somehow. So every afternoon several hundred men risk their necks and several hundred women scrubble in the mud for hours-and all for half a hundred weight of inferior fuel, value ninepence. (Orwell, 1982, p. 93) (The italics are mine)

This scene illustrates the narrator’s strategy which consists in the passage from a singulative narrative to an

iterative one. The narrator’s visit to a slag-heap one afternoon is one of the pictures that stay in his mind. This

picture has many effects on the narrator as well as on the reader. First, in addition to that of the slums’ girl, the

coal-picking scene is another haunting image of the horrors of dirt, unemployment, and poverty from which the

working-class is terribly suffering. As a personal observer, the narrator tries to give a vivid account, by means of

this strategy, of the misery he has seen in the North. Second, the narrator is defamiliarising the situation in order

to produce a great effect on his reader. The bourgeois reader, who completely ignores the appalling conditions of

the working-class, will not only be surprised, but even shocked. The narrator calls his reader to share his feeling

and mainly to be aware of “the special ignoring of an unemployed miner being reduced to this open

dehumanizing thieving…” (Crick, 1992, p. 286). The narrator has also experienced the great surprise and

disgrace at the sight of the hideous conditions of coal-miners and mass unemployment in the industrial North. As

Hoggart puts it plainly:

The North of England was stranger to Orwell than Burma. Not only had he spent many years out of England; he was by class and domicile apart from the heavy industrial areas of the North. They hit him hard, and the harder because he saw them at the worst time, at the bottom of the slump. He set out to recreate as vividly and concretely as he could the shock of this world of slag-heaps and rotting basements, of shabby men with grey clothes and grey faces, and women looking like grandmothers but holding small babies-their babies, all of them with the air of bundles of old clothes roughly tied up… (Hoggart, 1965, p. 40)

The third passage, Unit C, is another example of the narrator’s portrayal of poverty, dirt and smell which he

has seen during his social investigation of the working-class conditions in the North. It is a description of a typical

common lodging-house, its famous tripe shop and the habits of its dwellers, especially its owners—the Brookers.

The narrator caricatures both Mr. and Mrs. Brooker, the invalid woman, as well as their “shamefaced meals”

(Orwell, 1982, p. 10). Mr. Brooker does most of the household chores except cooking and laundering which are

accomplished by the wife of one of the Brookers’ son in Canada and Emnie, the fiancée of another son in London.

But it is Mr. Brooker who goes through the ritual of attending the tripe-shop, gives the lodgers their meals and

“does out” the bedrooms:


He was always moving with incredible slowness from one hated job to another. Often the beds were still unmade at six the evening, and at any hour of the day you were liable to meet Mr. Brooker on the stairs carrying the chamber-pot which he gripped with his thumb well over the rim. In the mornings he sat by the fire with a tub of filthy water, peeling potatoes of slow-motion picture. I never saw anyone who could peel potatoes with quite such an air of brooding resentment… (Orwell, 1982, p. 11) (The italics are mine.)

The salient feature in these two iterative passages is the use of frequency adverbs and other expressions of

time which indicate monotony and routine in the Brookers’ food habits and daily domestic activities. This

repetitiveness and uniformity which mark their food, gestures, actions, and even laments about their lower-class

lodgers can produce many effects.

First, there is a feeling of “stagnant meaningless decay” due to the vile food, the dirt and smells in the

lodging-house. The narrator feels depressed and disgusted.

Second, Mrs. Brooker’s “self-pitying talk” as well as “her habit of wiping her mouth with bits of newspaper”

are not lost on the narrator. He is revolted by Brookers’ dirty habits, lamentable complaints and dreadful smells:

“The most dreadful thing about the Brookers is the way they say the same things over and over again. It gives you

the feeling that they are not real people at all, but a kind of ghost for ever rehearsing the same futile rigmarole”

(Orwell, 1982, p. 15).

Third, the literary process is evident through the use of this strategy by the narrator. As Williams (1984)

contends, in his book Orwell, “there is the expected and necessary development of a scene, in the published

version: a fuller and more fluent description, details recollected from memory. But there is also a saturation of the

scene with feeling” (Williams, 1984, p. 50). Williams also argues that the narrator has produced two types of

effect: a particular effect and a more general and important effect. On the one hand, the emphasis in the book on

the Brookers’ house as the first scene and its treatment as a representative experience is an illustration of its

literariness: “The writer shapes and organizes what happened to produce a particular effect based on experience”

(Williams, 1984, p. 51). On the other hand, the overall organization of RWP is one major example of its

literariness and fictionality. In fact, the creation of a character in the first part as an “isolated observer going

around and seeing for himself”, this created character, will then be “used to [an] important effect in the second

half, the argument about socialism” (Willams, 1984, p. 51).

The last iterative segment to be discussed is the narrator’s descent in a coal pit in Wigan. This is one of his

significant experiences in the North where he describes the hideous working conditions of coal miners in and out

of the pit. The narrator uses the technique of observation for his description of the nature of the “fillers” work, the

habitual processes of their getting down, travelling through coal home for every shift. Besides, he describes the

other conditions down the pit, namely, the suffocating heat, the dreadful noise of roaring machines and

explosions, “the dusty fiery smell”, the depth and darkness of the place. These hideous conditions cause much

suffering and pain to coal-miners. The narrator’s detailed description of the miner’s awful conditions of work has

many effects on the narrator himself as well as on his reader:

Like in the preceding excerpts, the narrator approximately adopts the same strategy. He moves from one

particular situation to more generalizations. The passage from a singulative telling to an iterative telling aims at

describing the miners and the unemployed’s plight.

Besides, similar to his earlier reaction to the previous experiences in Part one, the narrator is greatly


surprised and even shocked at the long-suffering of the working class. For instance, he expresses his surprise on

seeing and experiencing himself a long, three-to five mile, journey down to the pit creeping through passages to

the coal face; “What is surprising… is the immense horizontal distances that have to be traveled underground.

Before I had been down a mine I had vaguely imagined the miner stepping out of the cage and getting to work on

a ledge of coal a few yards away” (Orwell, 1982, p. 22). Then, he adds: “You do not notice the effect of this till

you have gone a few hundred yards” (Orwell, 1982, p. 23). Thus, the narrator tries to generalize by inviting the

reader to be involved and to share his feelings and attitude.

Therefore, the narrator’s description of the working-class conditions has a total defamiliarizing effect. This

technique enables the reader to see “the thing, the scene, the incident as though for the first time” (Hoggart, 1965,

p. 46). This is due partly to the narrator’s literary gifts as a writer and partly to the moral tension, his

“nonconformity and humane personality” (Hoggart, 1965, p. 46). The author’s nonconformity is clearly

manifested through his play of time in the narrative discourse.

Indeed, the analysis of the category of time, as an integral part in the study of the text’s general structure, has

revealed the necessity to examine the different relationships established between the temporality of the narrative

and that of the related story. The results of this rigorous study can be conceived through the different types of

temporal deformation. On the one hand, all these aspects of deformation are due to one major reason which

consists in the discrepancy between the story-time and the discourse-time. This clearly explicates the complexity

and the ambiguity of the structure of the narrative discourse, hence the text’s literariness. On the other hand, the

tension at the level of the form actually reflects the tension in the author’s stance and his alienation.

To conclude, the analysis of RWP based on Gérard Genette’s structuralist model is invaluable in many ways.

In fact, this study has revealed that this narrative has not a simple and plain form, but, on the contrary, it has quite

a complex structure. The main constituents of this structure, namely, the categories of time, mood, and voice, are

the inherent features which constitute the literariness of the text. Besides, the author’s deviation from the

traditional literary norms and criteria not only has a defamiliarizing effect but also adds to the complexity of the

text’s structure and organization. Finally, the author’s ability to reshape and reorganize the fictionalized events of

the narrative is another proof of the text’s literariness and fictionality despite its apparent documentary and

autobiographical form.

Conclusion

The present paper has proposed analytical tools which are potentially applicable to the study of Orwell’s text,

especially as a non-linear narrative. The set of analytical tools selected for this enquiry are far from being

exhaustive but only the pertinent ones are chosen from seminal areas of modern literary theory and criticism,

namely, the prominent field of Formalism and its salient figures such as Schklovsky and Jakobson. Thus the

emphasis has been put on the internal elements of the text which constitute its literariness and show the author’s

potential creative abilities. Despite the ambiguity and absence of fixed border lines between different genres in

the crucial period of the 1930s, the rigorous structuralist analysis of RWP has made it possible to trace

fundamental literary traits in the novel.

Furthermore, the particular form of the text itself has shown the author’s “play” with genre and the

subversive nature of the novel. In fact, the author’s choice of this mixed genre which combines the real and the


imaginative or the documentary and the fictional, the autobiographical and the journalistic, is actually a deliberate

choice. Therefore, the author’s intention in this novel is clear. The deliberate choice of this particular form of the

novel has a specific aim. For Orwell, the intentional challenge of norms can be a liberating tool in literature and

ultimately serve the writer’s political and ideological purposes.

Besides, this research paper has attempted to proffer an authentic text-based analysis. Effectively, it is not an

abstract study of theories and principles. Discussion has been essentially based on concrete examples and

excerpts from the text itself. The research has also relied on tables for further illustration. Thus, the results are

inferred from the logical discussion of these tables and selected passages.

However, a structuralist approach by itself to Orwell’s text RWP may not be exhaustive. The investigation of

this text from a different angle, namely, the materialist historical perspective seems necessary. In fact, the

deployment of this strategy can reveal the external elements of the text, that is, its social dimension. Therefore,

the combination of both strategies may be fruitful to show the author’s creativity and subversion on both levels of

the text, that is, form and content.

References

Crick, B. (1992). George Orwell: A life. Middlesex: Penguin Book Ltd.. Cuddon, J. A. (1999). Dictionary of literary terms and literary theories. Harmondsworth: Penguin Books Ltd.. Fowler, R. (1985). Linguistics and the novel (pp. 71-121). London: Mathuen and Co. Ltd.. Fowler, R. (1995). The language of George Orwell. Houndmills: Macmillan Press Ltd.. Genette, G. (1972). Figures III. Paris: Editions du Seuil. Hoggart, R. (1965). Introduction to the Road to Wigan Pier: A collection of critical essays (pp. 34-51). In W. Raymond (Ed.).

London: Heinemann Educational Books. Hunter, L. (1984). Communication and culture (pp. 45-69). Stony Stratford: Open University Press. Orwell, G. (1946a). Politics of the English language. Retrieved from http://www.Resort.Com/prime8/orwell/patee.html Orwell, G. (1946b). The prevention of literature. Retrieved from http://www.Resort.com/prime8/orwell/preventlit2.html Orwell, G. (1982). The Road to Wigan Pier. Harmondsworth: Penguin Books Ltd.. Orwell, S., & Augus, I. (1968). Collected essays, journalism and letters (vol. 1). Harmondsworth: Penguin Books. Shklovsky, V. (1965). Art as technique. London: Reis. Stansky, P., & Abrahams, W. (1994). Orwell: The transformation. Stanford, California: Stanford University Press. Williams, R. (1974). George Orwell: A collection of critical essays (pp. 52-61). Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall. Williams, R. (1977). Marxism and literature. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Williams, R. (1984). Orwell: “Observation and Imagination” (pp. 41-53). London: Fontana Paperbacks.


Differences in Values Between Mother and Daughter in Cord

LIU Xi, MA Wen-ying

Changchun University, Changchun, China

Edna O’Brien (1930- ), an Irish novelist, poet, and short story writer, is considered as a pioneer for her frank

portrayals of women and the most gifted woman writing in English at her time. Her first novel, The Country Girls

(1960), was an immediate success. Her writing is lyrical and intense with passions and aspirations. Set in Britain,

the short story Cord describes a story about how the mother and the daughter got along in the short reunion after a

long separation. The paper mainly explores different religious values, cultural values, and social values between

them which caused irreconcilable conflicts. The present paper concludes that the “Cord”, the blood tie, can never

get rid of the spiritual barrier. Only mutual understanding can eliminate the gap and acquire a harmonious relation

between parents and children.

Keywords: Cord, religious values, cultural values, social values

Introduction

O’Brien’s works often “revolve around the inner feelings of women, and their problems in relating to men,

and to society as a whole” (Yang, 2012b, p. 262). The influence of her Catholic upbringing is apparent in much of

her work, “which depicts both Irish village life during the 1940s and 1950s and contemporary urban settings”

(Cooke, 2011, p. 6). Set in Britain in the 1960s, Cord describes a story about how the mother went to see her

daughter, Claire, after they were separated for a long time. Claire was working in London as a poet after receiving

a degree while her mother was chaining herself to the Irish village all her life. Someday, when the mother was

told that Claire “lost her faith… ” (Yang, 2012a, p. 342), the next day, she took a flight to London. The first

evening at Claire’s home passed well enough. However, from the second day ,it seemed the conflicts emerged

unexpectedly so that they quarreled a lot since then. The mother felt hurt and she left six days later. Another

separation came as a great relief to both of them. After they kissed each other goodbye, they learned they could

come back to their own life again. There is no denying that on one hand, there was a close blood tie between them

which was called “Cord”, on the other hand, the mother and the daughter were drifting irreparably further apart

from each other. Although they were connected by the cord, however, their differences in various aspects could

hardly be eliminated so that driven by the wide gap, they failed to understand each other.

What were the differences which caused irreconcilable conflicts between Claire and her mother? The

present paper will comment the differences between the mohter and the daughter from the perspective of

Acknowledgements: This paper is a part of the results of the research program the authors have participated “The study of counter-elite essentiality in American Post-modernism novels” [2013] No. 265.

LIU Xi, master, lecturer, School of Foreign Languages, Changchun University. MA Wen-ying, Ph.D., associate professor, School of Foreign Languages, Changchun University.

DAVID PUBLISHING

D

DIFFERENCES IN VALUES BETWEEN MOTHER AND DAUGHTER IN CORD 892

religious values, cultureal values, and social values.

Differences in Religious Values Between Mother and Daughter

Cord tells the story about how people are influenced by different kinds of values and how the mother and the

daughter failed to establish mutual understanding. The mother-daughter tensions are mainly driven by different

religious values.

Religious values play a leading role in the establishment of an individual’s identity and have a great

influence upon his whole life. Religious values refer to ethical principles founded in religious traditions and

beliefs. “In contrast to personal values, religious-based values are based on scriptures and a religion’s established

norms” (Wilfred, 2004, p. 167).

“Various aspects of the significance of religious values have been considered with respect to novels, their

relevance to a particular religious group (the Jains for instance or Latin Americans), and in relation to human

society” (Ramsden, 2009, p. 241).

Based on such circumstances, when the mother was told that her daughter lost her faith, it was an actual

heavy blow to her. Born and brought up in Ireland, the mother was a devout Catholic. She “believed totally in the

God that created her, sent her this husband, and this daughter” (Yang, 2012a, p. 342). Owing to her firm belief,

she thought Claire should be a faithful Catholic all her life. When facing the fact that Claire had no faith any more,

she thought she should take some measures instantly so as to reconvert her daughter into a Catholic. The moment

she stepped into Claire’s house, she unpacked the gifts that she brought to her with true affections. A lot of

wonderful things were scattered, including “a chicken, bread, eggs, a tapestry of a church spire which she’d done

all winter, stitching at it until she was almost blind, a holy water font, ashtrays made from shells, and lamps

converted from bottles” (Yang, 2012a, p. 343). For one thing, the presents, such as the chicken, bread, and eggs,

actually demonstrated her deep love. Nothing could impair her sincere emotions to the daughter no matter where

she was. For another, the gifts like the church-patterned tapestry and holy water font, which left Claire a deep

impression, in fact, carried a religious significance which suggested her real purpose. She told Claire that she did

the tapestry especially for her with which she preached the Cod’s creeds speechlessly. Claire saw the

church-patterned tapestry and thought “it was ugly”. She thought of the winter nights and “the Aladdin lamp

smoking, and her mother hunched over her work, not even using a thimble to ease the needle through, because she

believed in sacrifice” (Yang, 2012a, p. 343). Though in the eyes of the mother the tapestry represented her

determination to sacrifice her life to God, Claire thought in the totally different way. Obviously, ugliness of the

church-patterned tapestry was her declaration to fight against religious forces. Nobody could tell exactly why she

lost her faith all of a sudden and most probably the causes were really complicated. Furthermore, the mother

“carried all her gifts to her daughter and put them in the front room alongside the books and some pencil

drawings” (Yang, 2012a, p. 345). She learned it well that books were really important for her daughter because

she was a poet. Now the church-patterned tapestry and the holy water font were standing alongside with the

books, which implied the mother’ hope to reconvert Claire by such sacred things. However, to her

disappointment, her daughter was neither likely to be touched nor to be reconverted because Claire thought

“…how incongruous they looked” (Yang, 2012a, p. 343) while they were placed in the front room.

The mother spared no efforts to reconvert the daughter into a Catholic, Claire could hardly satisfy her


mother’s desire for her loss in faith was out of her choice. What’s worse, the obvious differences in religious

values between them separated them apart irreparably, which widened the gap and the “Cord”, the blood tie, lost

its strength to repair the relation. In fact, they appeared united outwardly but divided at heart.

Differences in Cultural Values Between Mother and Daughter

Besides the differences in religious values, there also existed differences in cultural values between the

mother and daughter in Cord which could be well reflected in the cultural symbols, to be exact, the signs of

counter-culture like Claire’s bohemian friends and the drawing of the nude that she collected.

Cultural values refer to the values that permeate a culture which are derived from larger philosophic issues

that are part of culture’s milieu. “Cultural values guide both perception and communication which are translated

into action” (John, 1995, p. 96). In the 1960’s Britain, the counter-culture movement was prevailing among

pioneering young people which was symbolized by hippies, mmarijuana, and sexual revolution. Working in

London, Claire, a 28 young woman, could hardly avoid the influence of the new things. She made bohemian

friends, spokesman of her ideology, who represented the anti-tradition thoughts in the counter-movement. One

night, three of them visited her, a man with a wife and a lover. “Music, brandy, cigarettes” (Yang, 2012a, p. 347)

they were voicing their needs. Undoubtedly, bohemian friends were the symbols of hippies, the trio symbolized

chaotic sexual relationships and brandy and cigarettes were symbols of material pleasures like marijuana. In this

sense, it is evident that Claire was one of those who supported counter-culture movement. However, her mother

was exactly standing on the opposite side of her. Living in the traditional British village and receiving little

education, the mother was never exposed to the pioneering counter-culture thoughts so that she was “severely

critical when she saw the drawing of the nude” (Yang, 2012a, p. 345). Obviously, she was a warrior of traditional

culture norms whereas her daughter was a supporter of counter-culture movement. Such led to the great

differences in their cultural values and it seems that nothing could get rid of such a spiritual misunderstanding.

Differences in Social Values Between Mother and Daughter

Apart from the differences in religious values and cultural values, in Cord, the mother and the daughter

showed their great differences in social values as well, that is, the mother typically showed altruistic orientation

and cooperative orientation whereas Claire revealed her individualistic orientation and competitive orientation.

Social value orientation (SVO) refers to “a person’s preference about how to allocate resources (e.g., money)

between the self and another person. That is, SVO corresponds to how much weight a person attaches to the

welfare of others in relation to the own” (Raman, 2004, p. 131). According to such norms, it is clear-cut that the

mother was altruistic and cooperative because while she was staying with Claire in London, “she was worried

about her husband, her fowls, the washing that would have piled up, the spring wheat that would be sown” (Yang,

2012a, p. 349). She almost devoted everything to her husband and her family since she got married, and in this

sense, she was not self-centered but altruistic. Each time when her husband told her to do anything, she would

never disobey his order, and from this perspective, she was quite cooperative. However, Claire was the opposite,

in other words, she was individualistic and competitive. Claire “had not asked how her father was” (Yang, 2012a,

p. 344) though she did not see him for over a year and the mother became nettled due to her selfishness. What she

really concerned was whether or not she could “seek people, …one of them might fit, might know the shorthand


of her, body and soul” (Yang, 2012a, p. 348). Her outcomes always outweighed her parents’. For another, in fact,

she was absolutely not family-centered like her mother, instead, she always had a hot pursuit of

career—poetry-writing. How competitive she was! It was unlikely to find out some common ground between

them. Thus, the great differences in cultural values led to a larger gap.

Conclusion

As we all know, there always exist differences between people, especially old generations and young

generations because they come from various social background and historical background. The story Cord, set in

Britain in the 1960s, just follows the pattern of this kind. The mother, a devout Catholic, was born and brought up

in the county of Ireland who was isolated from modern things—new culture and new civilization. She neither

desired to see the outside world nor dreamed of living a different life. Believing in God means all her life to serve

her husband and the family. However, her daughter was totally different from her. Claire was working in London

as a pioneering poet. She was a capable career and full of independent awareness. Living in the 1960’s Britain,

she was alert enough to smell the great social changes—counter-culture movement and feminist movement, thus,

much influenced by them and later became a supporter for the new movements. Driven by different educational

background and social background, the mother and the daughter established different values respectively. What

are the differences of values between them? Firstly, they had different religious values, that is, the mother was a

pious Catholic while Claire lost her faith and became an atheist. Secondly, they had different cultural values, that

is, the mother was a warrior of traditional culture whereas the daughter was a supporter of counter-culture

movement. Thirdly, they had different social values, that is, the mother had altruistic orientation and cooperative

orientation while Claire showed her individualistic orientation and competitive orientation. Even though the two

were closely linked by the “Cord”, the blood tie, the great differences drifted them apart to the different spiritual

world, that is, the blood tie could never get rid of the spiritual barrier. Only mutual understanding can eliminate

the gap and acquire a harmonious relation.

References

Angela, M. (2009). The uses of cultural studies. Beijing: Peking University Press. Cooke, R. (2011). Edna O’Brien: A writer’s imaginative life commences in childhood. The Observer (London) John, E. C. (2001). Jains in the world: Religious values and ideology in India. London: Oxford University Press. John, F. (1995) Cultural studies and cultural value. London: Clarendon Press Jonathan, C. (2004). On deconstruction theory and criticism after structuralism. Beijing: Foreign Language Teaching and Research

Press. Raman, S. (2004). A reader’s guide to contemporary literary theory. Beijing: Foreign Language Teaching and Research Press. Ramsden, B. (2009). The ethical & religious value of the novel. Oakland: University of California Press. Wilfred, L. G. (2004). A handbook of critical approaches to literature. Beijing: Foreign Language Teaching and Research Press. Yang, L. M. (2012a). Contemporary college English. Beijing: Foreign Language Teaching and Research Press. Yang, L. M. (2012b). Teachers’ book of contemporary college English. Beijing: Foreign Language Teaching and Research Press.


James Salter’s Pilots and Wingmen, Then and Now

David Kirk Vaughan

Air Force Institute of Technology, Dayton OH, USA

This essay examines the stylistic changes James Salter made when he revised his first two published novels, The

Hunters (1956) and Arm of Flesh (1960). Examination of the revised versions, The Hunters (revised, 1997) and

Cassada (2000) shows that changes made in The Hunters are primarily minor stylistic changes designed to improve

visual and narrative clarity, while the revisions in Arm of Flesh/Cassada are more substantial, bringing the central

character into clearer focus and making the events of the novel more accessible to non-military readers.

Keywords: Air Force novel, modern novel, aviation, Korean War, Cold War

Introduction

James Salter’s first two novels describe the lives of Air Force fighter pilots in the Korean War and in Cold

War Europe. The Hunters was based on Salter’s experiences as a pilot in the Korean War; it was serialized in

Collier’s magazine early in 1956, and adapted as a film which starred Robert Mitchum and Robert Wagner.

Arm of Flesh (1961) appeared five years after The Hunters and describes events involving a fighter squadron

which flies training missions in Europe and North Africa. It was not made into a film. This paper compares the

original and revised versions of both novels to determine what changes were made and why Salter might have

decided to revise them.

James Salter (originally James Arnold Horowitz; he changed his name in 1962) is probably best known for

his film script Downhill Racer, which starred Robert Redford, and for his erotic novel A Sport and a Pastime

(1967). His other novels of note include Light Years (1975) and Solo Faces (1979). Before establishing himself

as a writer, however, he was a pilot in the U. S. Air Force; he graduated from West Point during World War II

and flew a variety of aircraft before flying jet aircraft in the Korean War and later in Europe. After the

commercial success of his first novel, The Hunters (1956), Salter left the Air Force to devote himself to writing.

After the success of his later novels, especially Solo Faces, a novel about mountain climbing in Europe, Salter

tended to disparage the quality of his first two novels, calling them apprenticeship works (Dowie, 1988, p. 77).

They may well be apprenticeship works for a serious writer, but they are also two of the best novels written

about the life of a jet fighter pilot in the 1950s and 1960s. He thought enough of them to rewrite them many

years later. The Hunters was revised and re-published in 1997, 40 years after its original appearance. Arm of

Flesh was revised, re-titled (Cassada), and re-published in 2000, 39 years after it first appeared.

The Hunters accurately describes the U. S. Air Force fighter experience in the Korean War. The war in the

air over Korea had its own timeline, its own cycle of action, relatively unrelated to any action occurring on the

ground. The Korean War began in 1950 and ended in 1953, as the ground forces of the North Koreans, with the

help of the Chinese army, first pushed the American and allied forces down to the tip of the Korean peninsula,

David Kirk Vaughan, emeritus professor of Technical Communication, Air Force Institute of Technology.

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and then fell back as the American army, under General Douglas MacArthur, pushed them to the Yalu River,

the line separating North Korea from China. For the first two years of the war, it was fought in the air by

aircraft of World War II vintage, P-51s, B-26s, and B-29s, aircraft with reciprocating engines, with similar if

less capable aircraft flown by the North Koreans. Then the Russians brought a revolutionary jet aircraft into the

conflict, the MiG-15. It was a high-performance, high-altitude aircraft that could fly as high as 50,000 feet, an

altitude no American aircraft could reach. When the MiG-15 appeared late in 1950, the U. S. Air Force found

itself at a decided disadvantage in the air. To counter the Mig-15, the F-86 was rushed into production and sent

to Korea before its pilots really knew much about its performance characteristics. The war in the air changed

noticeably in 1952 and 1953, when the flights of F-86s encountered flights of MiG-15s. The F-86s had to fly

north from airfields in the vicinity of Seoul, South Korea, to the Yalu River, the boundary between North Korea

and Russia, a flight of some 200 miles that left little time to loiter over North Korean territory. The MiGs, on

the other hand, had only to take off and climb to altitude over their field to encounter the American pilots. They

often chose not to do so, but when they did, it was in greater numbers than the Americans could produce. We

now know that the best pilots flying for the North Korean Air Force were Russian pilots, sent to ensure the

success (and longevity, probably) of the Russian-built MiGs. Because of their lighter weight, the MiG-15s

could fly to higher altitudes than the heavier F-86s.

It was a new kind of combat experience, with aircraft circling at altitudes between 40 and 50 thousand feet;

at these altitudes the air is thin, and aircraft, even jet aircraft, have to maneuver very carefully, slowly, and

cautiously. If they try to maneuver too abruptly, by making a hard banking turn, the kind that could be safely

accomplished at 30 thousand feet or below, they could stall and enter a spin, from which they might or might

not recover. Maneuvering to engage the enemy was a slow, time-consuming process, in which pilots on both

sides tried to cut opposing aircraft off in large, circling turns, and then, when they judged themselves close

enough, raise the nose of their aircraft, fire a few well-aimed shots, and hope to inflict some damage on the

other aircraft. If the high altitude pattern could be disrupted, then the entire set of formations might drop down

to lower altitudes, where more traditional, more intense aerial combat might take place, with two-ship flights

maneuvering to catch an enemy aircraft off guard. The two-ship formation was essential for survival, as the

pilot in the second ship, the wingman, kept an eye out for an approaching hostile aircraft while the leader, the

pilot in the lead ship, looked for an aircraft to attack. The wingman’s job was to stay on his leader’s wing. The

two-man team effort was essential for success.

New pilots joining a fighter squadron thus had to learn to fly in the thinner air above 40 thousand feet, to

maneuver carefully but purposefully, and not put themselves at risk unnecessarily. They had to be able to judge

the speed and intentions of opposing aircraft. They had to be able to manage their own weapons systems, the

machine guns or cannons, which fired on an intercept calculated by their cockpit instruments. They had to have

the nerve to place themselves in vulnerable positions if they wanted to draw an opposing aircraft into combat.

Physically and mentally, flying in combat along the Yalu River, also known as “MiG Alley”, was extremely

challenging.

This is the operational world of The Hunters. The central character is Cleve Saville, an experienced pilot

who, like Salter, had flown during World War II, but who had not yet flown in Korea. When he arrives in

Korea, he is placed in a wing (a wing consists of two or more squadrons) commanded by an old friend and

acquaintance before the war, Colonel Imil. Imil expects Cleve to become one of his squadron’s star performers,

but Cleve initially does not have success in combat. The Wing Commander’s attitude is that it is the mark of a


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good pilot to have shot down a MiG; a great pilot would shoot down five and thus become an “ace”, an aerial

mark of distinction that had been established during World War I and continued in World War II.

Saville is given command of a flight in the squadron. A flight consisted of five or six men who flew in

formation into and out of combat. Initially Saville is comfortable training the other pilots, about half of whom

are new, in the techniques and procedures of combat operations, of which Saville is still learning the finer

points himself.

Then a new pilot arrives, Pell, a first lieutenant who likes to refer to himself as “the Doctor”, and whose

brash nerve, slightly contemptuous attitude, and aerial competence immediately annoy Saville. Pell is a good

pilot but he does not really like to fly in a wingman’s position, to which his relatively junior rank relegates him,

and he often finds an excuse for separating himself from his leader when a combat opportunity occurs. Pell

soon starts shooting down MiGs. Saville is infuriated by Pell’s go-it-alone attitude, but because Pell is the only

pilot in the flight with any victories, the Wing Commander is willing to overlook his individualistic tendencies

and even indirectly encourages him in his efforts. Finally, when Pell deserts his leader for the third time to

pursue a MiG on his own, Saville loses his temper and takes a swing at Pell. They are quickly separated, but the

Wing Commander supports Pell. Later, when Colonel Imil attempts a reconciliation with Saville, Saville rejects

the offer and loses Imil’s friendship. The novel concludes when Saville, after having shot down the top enemy

pilot, “Casey Jones”, so-called because he leads “trains” of MiGs through the sky, is himself killed in combat.

The novel depicts not only the external world of aerial combat above 40 thousand feet, but also the

internal world of squadron and wing politics: the sly denigration of pilots too hesitant to engage with the enemy;

the efforts of pilots who have shot down enemy aircraft and embellish their accounts of aerial combat to build

their personal reputations; the persuasive powers of the wing commander to persuade one pilot to agree that he

has seen an enemy aircraft destroyed by his flight leader when he had not actually done so; and, in one

wonderful scene, the efforts of one pilot to rewrite his narrative to ensure that he receives the highest medal

possible. Salter, having been a fighter pilot himself, accurately describes the competitiveness between pilots

and groups of pilots that is characteristic of a fighter squadron.

In his re-written version of The Hunters, Salter makes two kinds of changes: names and descriptive details.

He adds a Preface in which he gives some contextual background for modern readers that (probably) wouldn’t

have been necessary in 1956, three years after the Korean War ended. But now all the aircraft that flew in

Korea exist in museums only, so the additional information is helpful. It is not clear why Salter felt the need to

change the names: a squadron commander’s name is changed from Ausman to Desmond. A fighter pilot named

Sheedy is now Robey. Salter changes the name of the main character from Cleve Saville to Cleve Connell.

Connell was the name of an American ace during the Korean War, who later died in an aircraft accident. But in

the novel Cleve is not an ace. Another puzzling name change Salter makes is to change the name of Cleve’s

primary flying partner from Corona to DeLeo. One name Salter does not change is the name of the annoying

American pilot, Pell. Those who knew something of Salter’s flying background in the Korean War knew that

the character of Pell was based on a pilot by the name of James Kasler, an obnoxious, aggressive pilot who was

credited with shooting down six enemy aircraft and who flew Salter’s wing for a period of time during the war.

Kasler later flew in the Vietnam conflict where he was shot down and became a prisoner of war. But the details

of Pell’s character and behavior remain unchanged in the revised version.

The more substantive changes in The Hunters are small but helpful stylistic changes. To give an example

of Salter’s stylistic changes: in the original version, this is how Salter describes the return of the aircraft after


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one mission:

When the ships returned from a mission, everybody watched for them. Usually, they came lining back to the field in flights of four, flying tight show formation with the black smoke fading in parallel streams behind as they turned in toward the runway and landing pattern. They seemed to be most indestructible then. They were of frozen silver. Nothing could possibly befall that grace. No enemy could deny them. Departures were stirring; but every return, even the most uneventful, was somehow triumphant and a call to the heart to rise in joy. Out of the north they had come again, brief regiments of splendor. (Salter, 1956, p. 69)

This is the revised version:

When the ships returned from a mission, everybody watched for them. Usually, they came lining back to the field in flights of four, flying tight show formation with the black smoke fading in parallel streams behind as they turned in toward the runway and landing pattern. They seemed to be most indestructible then. They were of frozen silver. Nothing could possibly dim that grace. No enemy could deny them. Departures were stirring; but every return, even the most uneventful, was somehow transcendent and a call to the heart to rise in joy. Out of the north they had come again, brief strokes of splendor. (Salter, 1997, p. 69)

The three small stylistic changes in this paragraph show Salter correcting or modifying aspects of the

description: to befall grace is awkward; to dim grace is better; transcendent is much better than triumphant; the

third fix, substituting strokes for regiments, is as much an improvement of logic as style.

One more example:

Cleve Saville has just shot down his first MiG; his wingman, following on his wing, has been watching

out for enemy aircraft. In the original version, this follows:

“Did you see that, Billy?” he shouted. “Break Left!” Cleve turned hard, straining to look back. Two MiGs, firing, swept close behind and then climbed away. They did not

come back. They kept going until they were out of sight in the direction of the river. (Salter, 1956, p. 86)

And this is the revised version:

“Did you see that, Billy?” he shouted. “Break left!” Cleve turned hard, straining to look back. Two MiGs, firing, sat close behind. Their noses were alight. He was turning

as hard as he could, not gaining, not yet feeling himself hit, thinking no, no, when at the last moment they were gone, climbing away, in the direction of the river. (Salter, 1997, p. 85)

In both versions, the number of sentences remains the same, yet the impact of the second version is much

more immediate, more visceral. In the revised version we can more easily share Cleve’s profound worry that he

might himself be shot down within a few seconds of his first victory. The image of the MiG noses “alight”,

bright visual evidence of their guns firing at him, missing from the original version, makes this incident much

more effective in the revised version.

Not counting name changes, there are approximately forty relatively minor stylistic changes, all designed

to clarify the narrative. They are the kinds of changes that a knowledgeable editor might make. In general, the

results of his stylistic changes show his concern for what it looked like, flying in the skies over Korea. The most

important of his changes have to do with enhancing the visual aspects of his descriptions.

The sense of fighter pilot politics that appears in The Hunters continues in an even more intense form in

his 1961 novel, Arm of Flesh. This novel takes place in Europe in the late 1950s, as the fighter aircraft and the


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pilots who flew them are located on North Atlantic Treaty Organization bases in France and Germany, where

their presence demonstrates the allied determination to resist any efforts by the Soviet bloc to invade Western

Europe; Germany at that time was divided into eastern and western halves. One American squadron flying jet

aircraft (probably F-84 aircraft; Salter never identifies specific aircraft type in either novel) is assigned to a base

in France. During the course of the novel we see the men involved in “scrambles” to intercept possible hostile

aircraft; this duty is interrupted for a period of time in which they fly to an American base in Libya, North

Africa, where they participate in gunnery training, shooting at targets towed by other aircraft (this process is

particularly well-described in the novel).

The main conflict in the novel occurs when a new pilot, named Cassada, arrives in the squadron. In

addition to being recently trained, he is junior in rank, a bit of a dreamer, and compared to the other men, at

least, slow to learn operational procedures. He prefers to drink tea rather than coffee and is from Puerto Rico, a

location some men in the squadron apparently believe is a foreign country. He does not fit, in other words, the

image of the fighter pilot, and he pays the political price for his differentness. The squadron operations officer

(the second-ranking officer in the squadron), Isbell, gradually develops an interest in Cassada and determines to

give him some pointers and instruction about flying that might lead to his acceptance by the pilots of the

squadron. The event that frames the novel and gives it its dramatic focus is the effort of Cassada and Isbell,

each flying in his own aircraft in a two-ship formation, to land at their home field in bad weather (a situation

officially known as landing in “below minimum” weather). If a field is “below minimums”, pilots are supposed

to divert to another field where the weather is better. But because they are low on fuel, they are unable to do so.

Their predicament is especially precarious because Isbell, the more experienced pilot, and who was the flight

leader when they left their original field, has experienced radio failure and has had to relinquish the lead

position to Cassada. Cassada, who has many fewer hours of flying time than Isbell, makes two attempts to land

in the poor weather but is unable to do so. On his final attempt, he runs out of fuel, crashes, and is killed. Isbell,

who became separated from Cassada on the second approach, climbs to altitude and bails out of the aircraft. He

survives. The novel concludes with a burial service at the base chapel and a flyby of aircraft displaying a

missing man formation.

The novel describes the interpersonal dynamics of the men in the squadron, who display a variety of

personalities and backgrounds. There is the military academy graduate, self-controlled and insistent on

discipline; the easy-going joker; the older squadron commander, hoping for his next promotion; the taciturn

country boy, whose language is coarse but who is a good pilot. The competitiveness among these men is

evident in every episode. In one crucial episode in the book, Cassada, trying to improve his poor scores on the

gunnery range in North Africa, accepts the challenge of one month’s pay made by one of the most experienced

men in the squadron. Cassada is determined to demonstrate his willingness to risk his reputation in an effort to

be accepted in the squadron, but he loses the bet. Instead of gaining acceptance, he is further humiliated. In

frustration, he throws his shoes at a light in the tent, breaking the glass.

It is at this point that Isbell begins a personal effort to assist Cassada, culminating in a return to the

gunnery course in North Africa, where he shows Cassada some techniques that could help him improve his

gunnery scores. They are returning from this training program when they are caught in the bad weather as they

attempt to land at their home field in France.

Arm of Flesh is written in an unusual fictional format, as each of the men in squadron (thirteen in all)

speak in individual narratives prefaced with their names. Although a careful reader can distinguish among their


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voices, especially the squadron commander, Clyde, the good-looking natural pilot, Grace, the unpolished

country boy, Harlan, and the operations Officer, Isbell, it is difficult for a reader unfamiliar with fighter pilot

phraseology to sort them out, even when each individual’s name is provided. One reader commented that “there

are so many speakers and so little differentiation in their speaking voices that... the characters lack both

substantiality and development” (Dowie, 1988, p. 80). Evan Salter disparaged his effort in Arm of Flesh, calling

it “derivative Faulkner” (Smith). The central character, Cassada, is never given his own voice, adding to the

reader’s sense of Cassada’s alienation from the other members of the squadron. Given the fact that the book

concludes with the death of Cassada, it is as if the voices of the other pilots constitute an unofficial record of

the hearing that would have taken place after such an incident, in which all the pilots who knew the deceased

would give their opinions of the dead pilot’s capabilities and past performance in the squadron.

As a result of Salter’s creative fictional technique, Arm of Flesh is a more complex novel than The Hunters.

However, the novel itself was not a popular success. Salter himself called it a “failure” (Cassada, 2000, p. vii),

and apologized for resurrecting it in a revised version in 2000. By renaming it Cassada, Salter appears to be

compensating for slighting the central character in the original version. The major change that Salter makes in

his 2000 rewrite is to tell the story in the more traditional third person narrative voice, although many of the

comments and all of the incidents in the original version are included. The third person narrative form makes

the plot and characterization more accessible, especially to a reader unfamiliar with Air Force terminology.

Salter also develops the relationship between two central characters, Cassada and Isbell, more completely,

making the thematic connection between the two characters clearer. The young novice pilot Cassada is

presented as having a perspective of the world similar to that of Isbell, the one character in the story whose

imagination and sense of appreciation of the world of the fighter pilot, with its danger, excitement, and

spectacular beauty of in flight experience, does not seem to be shared by any other pilot in the squadron. Thus

the loss of Cassada is a personal loss for Isbell as well as a professional loss, an aspect not made as clear in the

original novel. The third person narrative serves to make the character of Cassada less remote, less isolated,

than it is in the original version.

In contrast to the isolation of Cassada in Arm of Flesh, we know the character more intimately in Cassada

and thus can share more completely his sense of failure in being rejected by the other members of the squadron.

In the revised version Salter expands on Cassada’s humiliation in losing the gunnery target bet when the

winning pilot complains, in front of the assembled squadron, that Cassada can’t pay off the complete amount of

the bet (one month’s pay); this detail was not in the original version. Finally, the revisions in the novel explain

in more detail the special activities of a fighter squadron in Europe at the height of the Cold War, a unique

picture of a world and time now lost, “the fighter bases of Europe, and the life itself” (Cassada vii).

Even with the modifications, however, the fighter pilot’s experiences still remain slightly unclear for the

normal (non-military) reader. It would have helped, for instance, if Salter would have given more details about

the actual aircraft that he flew (the F-86s in Korea and the F-84s in Europe) to give a sense of the complex

technological environment in which fighter pilots lived, to give the reader some sense of the exhilaration and

occasional terror produced in the cockpit when the equipment worked as it was supposed to and when it didn’t,

the kind of description that Richard Bach does so well in his version of flying F-84s in Europe, Stranger to the

Ground.

Salter’s concern to improve, to clarify the visual images in both books points to his concern to capture

accurately the lived experience of fighter pilots in Korea and Europe. Because he had been one of them, one of


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a special group of men, because he had lived the kind of life he was writing about, he apparently felt a strong

urge to portray the environments of his characters as accurately as possible. This is the impulse that must have

driven his concern to revise his first two novels.

Conclusion

Salter’s revisions to his first novel, The Hunters, assist the reader in gaining a better visual appreciation for

the experiences of the combat pilots who flew in the skies over North Korea during the Korean War, but it is

not apparent how the name changes in the novel make any meaningful difference in our appreciation of the

events in the story. Cassada provides a clearer story line and establishes a stronger bond between the two main

characters than exist in his earlier Arm of Flesh, but at the expense of the creative conceptual framework of the

original novel. In either their original or their revised versions, however, the novels remain compelling accounts

of the unique worlds of the modern fighter pilot.

References Dowie, W. (1988). A final glory: The novels of James Salter. College English, 50(1), 74-88. Salter, J. (1956). The hunters. New York: Harper. Salter, J. (1961). Arm of flesh. New York: Harper. Salter, J. (1997). The hunters (Revised ed.). Washington, D.C.: Counterpoint. Salter, J. (2000). Cassada (Revised version of Arm of Flesh). Washington, D.C.: Counterpoint. Smith, D. (1997). Fighter pilot who aimed for fiction but lived on film [Book Review of Burning the Days]. New York Times.


Rhetoric and Meaning in Poetry: The Case of Zambia

Moffat Moyo

University of Zambia, Lusaka, Zambia

This paper aims at showing how rhetoric and meaning in Zambian poetry interact. The work analyses the definition

of poetry and gives the understanding that poetry is an artistic use of language that employs figurative language for

maximum effect. The work also analyses rhetoric and concludes that the sole aim of rhetoric is to persuade the

audience. The use of this rhetoric is later identified as a preoccupation of most poets. After studying a number of

rhetorical devices used in poetry, the work has studied selected Zambian poems and focussed on the use of rhyme

and alliteration in the poems. It has been shown that there is much use of rhyme but with limited use of alliteration.

In both cases, the use is not so much to the contribution to the meaning in the poetry. The poets usually use these

devices for the sake of beauty and not meaning. The paper therefore suggests that poets could undergo some formal

training in composition while the art is also taught to the young while in their early years in schools.

Keywords: rhetoric, meaning, Zambian poetry, figurative language

Introduction

Poetry is that branch of literature which is related to man’s deepest concerns. It is marked by rhythm and

cadence, repetition, onomatopoeia, alliteration and other acoustic or visual images (Mtonga, 2008). These

devices mark poetry as an art form that uses devices of rhetoric. According to Horace, the aim of a poet is either

to instruct or to delight a reader, and preferably to do both. The poet’s aim, therefore, will be to present beauty and

hence delight his reader in his work (Abrams, 1999). This paper examines the use of rhetoric in poetry and how

rhetoric and meaning marry in poetry. The paper begins by defining poetry and discussing the meaning brought

out by the various definitions employed. The paper proceeds to defining rhetoric and later discussing how

rhetoric is used in poetry. To show how rhetoric is used in poetry, the paper will exploit rhetoric devises that poets

use. The next part will view the association between rhetoric and meaning in Zambian poetry and finally suggest

areas needing further research.

Poetry

Poetry is a literary genre that is different from prose and drama in that it is characterised by the rhythmical

qualities of language. The fundamental nature of poetry is compression, economy and force as opposed to the

expansive and logic of prose (Roberts & Jacobs, 2007). The idea that poetry is compressed can translate into it

being seen as an art form that is also condensed. This is because, as opposed to prose that occupies a much larger

space, poetry occupies a much smaller space. Economy, as with compression, refers to the use of minimal words

Moffat Moyo, lecturer, Department of Literature and Languages, University of Zambia.

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to send a message across. The authors seem to imply that poetry thrives on the use of few words to say a lot. And

finally, talking about force, a poem, as can be picked from Emily Dickinson’s (1830-1886) observation, quoted

by the above source, is very powerful in that it has a huge impact on its audience’s emotion. Dickinson said that if

she was reading a book and found that it made

My whole body so cold that no fire ever can warm me I know that is poetry. If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry. (Roberts & Jacobs, 2007, p. 1109)

Dickinson here suggests that a poem is supposed to be different from ordinary use of language in that is

should make the audience feel what is being talked about. The feeling can be termed as that of “strangeness”.

What this implies is that the audience is not a merely watching at a distance, but is an active player in the creation

of, as well as the response to meaning in the piece of work.

Another view is brought to the definition of poetry by Anderson and Brinnin (1989, p. 874) who perceive

poetry to be “a kind of rhythmic, compressed language that uses figures of speech and imagery designed to appeal

to our emotions and imaginations”. Rhythm is a quality not identified in the earlier definition. The latter has

identified it as an element contributing to the success of poetry apart from imagery and compression,

compression having already been discussed by Roberts and Jacobs. Rhythm, a quality very prevalent in music,

refers to “the rise and fall of the voice produced by alternation of stressed and unstressed syllables in language”.

While the first definition focussed more on the forceful nature of poetry, the current one looks more on the

delivery as well. This should not be taken to mean that the earlier definition does not take delivery into

consideration.

The definitions of poetry here studied show that for a poem to be regarded as successful, it has to conform to

certain requirements which are compression, economy, force, rhythm, and the use of figurative language and

imagery to appeal to the audience’s imagination and emotions. The definitions do not restrict poetry to the written

artefact. They point at the fact that poetry is based on language. This means that as much as it is an artefact, it is

also a product of language.

Rhetoric

Rhetoric, according to the Oxford Compact Thesaurus (2005) is associated with words and phrases such as

eloquence, command, of language, way with words, and speech making. In terms of the relationship between the

term and words in general, the thesaurus goes on to give words such as grandiloquence, magniloquence, and

pomposity among others to be associated with it. According to Kennedy (1980), rhetoric is a theory of discourse

that was developed by Greeks and Romans. Chief among these is Aristotle. He says that any definition of rhetoric

that excludes Aristotle (or Cicero and Byzantium) is not very satisfactory. The definition of rhetoric, as made by

Kennedy (1980), is that rhetoric is the art of persuasion.

Calder (1999) in his paper Some Operations of Dramatic Rhetoric in Richard III, I.ii, says that rhetoric,

according to Aristotle is the faculty of discovering the possible means of persuasion in reference to any subject

whatever. He further says that rhetoric should not be regarded as divorced from ordinary experience as the orator

speaks to an expectant audience. The argument here seems to be that the audience is already aware that the

speaker’s intention is to persuade the audience even before the speech is delivered.


The site http://web.cn.edu/kwheeler/resource_rhet.html says that rhetoric is the ancient art of argumentation

and discourse. The site goes on to say:

When we write or speak to convince others of what we believe, we are “rhetors”. When we analyze the way rhetoric works, we are “rhetoricians”... even intelligent people--can disagree with each other. Sometimes they disagree with each other about deeply held beliefs. When such disagreements become pronounced, there are two typical results--either they begin to fight, or they engage in debate. The choice is up to every country and every citizen--do we solve our problems by using a bullet or by engaging in rational discourse?… Rhetoric removes disagreement from the arena of violence and turns it into debate--a healthy and necessary step.

The site shows that rhetoric is, actually, very necessary in life. It could be suggested that, as it has already

been stated above, this is the reason why rhetoric has been taught in institutions.

Finally, Aristotle (2000) himself says that rhetorical study, strictly, is concerned with the modes of

persuasion. Persuasion is clearly a sort of demonstration, since we are most fully persuaded when we consider a

thing to have been demonstrated. He says rhetoric, in this case, is the art of discovering all the available means of

persuasion in any given case. This, he continues, is because of the rhetor’s desire to achieve the intellectual and

emotional effects on an audience that will persuade them to accede to the orator’s point of view. This is intended

to make the audience think and feel or act in a particular way.

From the few definitions given, what is most outstanding is the idea that rhetoric is anchored on persuasion.

The rhetor’s desire is to persuade the audience to think according to his line. Aristotle’s argument could probably

have been influenced by the knowledge that man is intrinsically motivated to feel that he belongs somewhere. For

example, according to Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs theory, man needs to feel that he belongs somewhere. He

needs to feel considered and followed. Maslow’s theory can be considered to suggest that rhetors are at two of his

levels; the belonging needs level and the self-esteem level (McMahon, MacMahon, & Romano, 1995). This, it

can be argued, is the reason why man has to employ rhetoric in all his dealings in life. It can be concluded hence

that rhetoric is not limited to art-related fields alone but sweeps across all aspects of human interactions.

In the section following this discussion, the use of rhetoric in poetry will be examined. This will be done by

essentially studying the various rhetorical devices used in poetry.

The Use of Rhetoric in Poetry

“Poetry is the records of the best and happiest moments of the happiest and best minds” so asserts Sherley

(Abrams, 1999, p. 272). His argument, though not easy to substantiate, aims at maximising the belief in the

impact of poetry on the audience. As it was said earlier, the poetry aims at being very forceful and hence leaving

a lasting impression on the reader.

In the above definition of poetry, Sherley asserts that the minds producing poetry have to be happiest and

best. The “best” would be thought in this case to mean the most brilliant, sharp, deep-thinking,

cleverly-calculating, and so on. The deep mind will be accepted to be so only if it proves to us that really it is that.

The idea of proving is what goes for sharing information at a much different level. This difference is present in

the use of rhetorical figures or devices. These figures are meant to help in the persuasion of the audience so that,

as it has already been suggested, the audience can easily be won.

The devices mentioned in this paper are mostly the commonly used ones such as the apostrophe, rhyme,


metaphor and many others. In the discussion that follows, these devices are discussed under devices relating to

semantics and those relating to sound. The discussion is largely influenced by Abrams (1999), David (2000), and

Mweseli (2005) who discuss these rhetoric devices in detail.

Under devices dealing with semantics, the discussed devices include the metaphor, simile, personification,

and apostrophe among others while under sound, there are devices such as rhyme, alliteration, assonance,

consonance, and pun.

Semantic-related Devices

The most common figure of speech employed in poetry, is the metaphor which is one that compares objects

that are very unlike without using “as”, like, and so fourth. It, in fact, transfers the attributes of one object onto

another. For this reason, this can be called association as opposed to comparison.

A simile, on the other hand uses like, as, and as…as for association. It is more fit to be referred to as a

comparison unlike a metaphor, for reasons that have already been discussed above.

Personification is the act of giving human attributes to an inanimate being such as a stone being addressed as

it were human. But, if a poet speaks to a god for assistance in his composition or art in general, it is known as

invocation.

An apostrophe is a device that is used to address a person who is dead as if they were alive.

Sound-related Devices

Alliteration involves the use of a repetition of initial consonant sounds in two or more words of a line or line

groups to produce a noticeable artistic device.

Rhyme is the occurrence of the same stressed vowel sounds in two words with the assumption that the

accented vowel sounds involved are preceded by different consonant sounds. Rhyme comes in different varieties

such as feminine rhyme, near rhyme, perfect rhyme, and masculine rhyme among others.

A repetition of similar vowel sounds in two or more words in a line or a group of lines is referred to as

assonance while the repetition of consonant sounds in similar terms is referred to as consonance. Consonance

should not be confused with alliteration because alliteration employs a repetition of the first consonant sounds

while consonance has to do with the repetition of consonant sounds with or at the end of words in a line or group

of lines.

A pun is a play on words that have similar sounds or are spelled in the same way but have different

meanings.

The identified devices are employed by poets (and other literary creators) in their works to enhance meaning

and appeal to their audience more. In the next section of this paper, the some of these devices are explored as

employed in selected Zambian poems.

Rhetoric and Meaning in Zambian Poetry

The definition of Zambian poetry will be based more on geographical and nationality grounds. It will be

assumed here that all poetry produced in Zambia and based on Zambian experiences such as can be contained in

the whole idea of Zambian culture is Zambian whether produced by a Zambian or not. The paper also regards all


works done by Zambians abroad if the works are guided by Zambian-related themes as Zambian.

For this reason, some of the works discussed will be by poets not of Zambian origin but based in Zambia and

exploring Zambian-related themes in their poems. These poets include Selwyn Davis and Kwesi Sakyi. Most of

the poems, of course not restricted by time and space, are by indigenous Zambians and, like those by poets not of

Zambian origin, were published within the geographical boundaries of the country. The poets under this category

include, in no special order, Chifumu Chipeta, Maud Muntemba, Mercy Khozi, and Gabriel Zulu. The poems will

not be analysed wholly or here presented in whole. The analysis will be based on identifying and interpreting how

rhetorical devices have been used. The paper will also, for purposes of this presentation analyse the use of few

selected devices such as rhyme, and alliteration only with some mention of other devices in other cases.

Rhyme, it was suggested earlier, is one of the elements used in poetry. Sakyi (2009) has used rhyme in his

poem Fresh Prince of Bel Air—American Legend where he says in part:

Will Smith Fresh Prince of Bel Air He’s free to err Check your Free-To-Air He’s everywhere on the channels Is he the Hollywood fugitive heir? (p. 34)

In this poem, Sakyi uses the “air” sound at the end of most lines even though “err” does not seem to fit in so

well. One would even suspect that the use of “everywhere” was deliberate so that it rhymes with the other words

containing the “air” sound. Obviously, the contribution made by “He’s free to err” verse seems to be a bit

misplaced. Could it be thought that this verse is not intended to add meaning to the poem but beauty through the

use of rhyme. While the poet is very gifted with language as can be evidenced in most of his poems in both the

collection from which the poem referred to comes from and his earlier work Mulungushi Sounds, the use of

rhyme does not seem to be a good indicator of advancing the idea. It seems the poet in this case is more concerned

with beauty rather than the idea being shared.

In Bus Stop—to Edna Juliana, Davis (1991) uses the device when in part of the poem he says:

A little lost lady Looking for her life A little lost old lady Looking past her life. He told me to stand right here at this corner Little lost lady at the corner. (p. 35)

The rhyme scheme of ABABCC which is completely structured in this part of the poem is clear even though

the definition earlier given questions this use of rhyme. In the definition, it was said that the assumption of rhyme

is that there are different consonant sounds preceding the stressed vowel sounds of the rhyming words. In this

poem obviously, the rhyme is entirely based on same words and not words of similar stressed vowel sounds.

It would be important to question whether the use of rhyme in this case is coincidental or deliberate. Even if

rhyme contributes to the musicality of a poem, it does not seem to do so very well in this case as the rhythm seems

to be broken in the third verse after the introduction of “old” while lost is maintained. Of course, it is not the aim

of this paper to prescribe what words the poet is expected to use, the whole aim is to identify any instances of use


of rhetorical devices and the contribution made by the same.

Khozi (2001) also uses rhyme in an almost unsatisfactory manner in her I Just Didn’t Listen where she says:

I used to think that AIDS wasn’t real But now I know that it is a big deal It is really quite a mystery Nothing compared to misery. (p. 61)

Her use of “big deal” is very casual and very divorced from the language poets generally use. One would

wonder if she merely wanted to rhyme or she really desired to say AIDS “ia a big deal”. This instance seems to

suggest that rhyme can be misused in a number of cases.

A difference is seen in the use of rhyme as evidenced in Daughter of Africa by Muntemba (1991). She goes:

Go to the market and hear them swear; Go to the bars and see them tear; Turn to the salons and see them dye; Turn to the roads and see them die – Daughter of Africa: where are you going?

Turn to the roadside and see them kill; Turn to the house and see them steal; Go to the houses and find them sell; Sell what – beers, food, bodies, and all – Daughters of Africa: where are you going? (p. 92)

While the speaker seems to be addressing the daughter of Africa, the same addressee seems to be the object

of these misdeeds being mentioned. Of primary concern here is the use of rhyme in this poem. For once,

Muntemba convinces that she has a command of the use of rhyme even though the lines ending with the rhymes

sell and all can lead to debate in terms of efficacy of the rhyme. All the same, even the use of tear gives little

information in line with her information. What could she be referring to that they “tear”? While in all the other

verses meaning is very easy to grasp, in this line tear becomes difficult to see. One would be made to believe that

the use of tear is not merely for concealing information, as becomes the case by most poets, but also an attempt to

use a word that rhymes with “swear”.

One truth that cannot be denied is that the poets use of rhyme has contributed to the rhythm in the poem far

more than that, the poet, by using rhyme, has even used another device, a pun, in “dye” and “die”. The use of two

devices within another device is clever and demonstrates control on the part of the poet.

One notable case where rhyme has been given prominence over ideas is in a Zambian song by Che Mutale.

The chorus of the song goes:

Nikamwa chibuku (When I drink chibuku) Nimaona chipuku (I see a ghost) Chikudya nkhuku (Eating a chicken) Chamanga na duku (Wearing a headdress)

Nikamwa chibuku (When I drink chibuku)


Nimaona chipuku (I see a ghost) Chikudya nkhuku (Eating a chicken) Chabelenga na buku (And reading a book).

In this use of rhyme, it becomes difficult to tell the poets ability to combine such devices to enhance both the

aesthetic and didactic quality of the work. One is left at the crossroads as to whether the poem is intended to

deliver any meaning in terms of ideas or merely to amuse the audience.

Alliteration is also used and like rhyme, contributes musical effects to the poem. In most Zambian poems,

alliteration is rarely used even if it can be argued that alliteration is almost natural in most Zambian languages

such as in: kamwana kang’ono kalira (a small child has cried). After a survey of most Zambian poems, very few

have been seen to have alliteration. One poet who has beautifully employed the device is Chipeta (2000) in My

Heart Is Closed where he says:

This heart of mine Made of all that is tender Soothing the tears of your time Your heart-beat so blessing The vibrations of tenderness Soothing the tears of my time You’re coming close to my heart. (p. 18)

Even though alliteration is evident, it is not very pronounced. All the same, it should not be expected that

alliteration should be used superfluously where the idea is even lost because of the presence of the device. In the

poem above, the poet uses hard consonants like “k” and “t” for alliteration in “tears of time” and “coming close”.

While it might be expected by others that the use of hard consonants also shows the attitude towards a poem, this

poem combines the had consonants with tender words like soothing and tender meanings like coming close to my

heart. The alliteration in this case might be said to be a bit misplaced.

What is important still is the poet’s ability to use the device in a case where, as was identified with

Muntemba, other devices are also present. There is a clear use of metaphor in “soothing the tears of… time” there

is also a hyperbole as the poet mentions the vibrations of tenderness. With expectations of vibrations being not as

tender, from the word’s use of hard consonants, the poet uses irony when he qualifies the tenderness as in

vibrating hence heightening the audience’s response to the poem. Indeed words synonymous with vibration are

shaking, quivering, tremour, pulsating, juddering, and throbbing among others. In this instance, the poet

combines devices without forgoing the idea while individual use of other devices as has been seen in alliteration

gives feelings of doubt to the audience.

In his Blessed Baby, Chipopu (2002) says:

For 2000 years In my mother’s womb I was nurtured I struggled to come out I waited to see dawn To see the sun set See the new moon The seasons of blessing. (p. 21)


In the few lines, Chipopu uses the “s” sound repeatedly in the entire stanza of this poem. The poem does not

seem to have employed the device deliberately seeing that there probably was no other way of using language for

the poet as can be noticed from the knowledge that the sun sets and we see it do so. All the same,

whether coincidentally or not, the device makes a contribution and does not in any way reduce the meaning of the

poem.

Conclusion

In this paper, it has been seen that Zambian poets like any other poets in the rest of the world are aware of the

use of poetry for rhetorical purposes. This is substantiated by their ability to employ rhetorical devices in the

poems. Of course, it could still be argued that the paper has also indicated that a number of these deliberately used

devices are not used in such a way that they contribute to the message or ideas advanced by the poem. The poets

in a number of cases have used these devices because they know that poetry is meant to have these devices in

them.

It should be understood here that this paper has been constrained by space hence not giving a balanced study

to the works and also the devices. It is hoped that an expanded version of the paper will be produced that will

delve into the areas that have here been ignored regardless of the fact that they are very important.

Based on the little evidence provided, one could suggest that poets, even if well equipped with talent, can

cultivate their talent by getting involved deliberately in discussions bordering on art such as literary and linguistic

seminars. They could also use workshops and even formal training in university in literary composition. It could

also be advisable that the teaching of literary composition, with emphasis on elements of the same, be shared with

the young while they are still in school. Unlike the current situation where most get in contact with the arts

through extra or is it co-) curricular activities such as drama clubs, and writers’/press clubs, the arts should be

taught indiscriminately and, in fact, encouraged among the young.

Areas of Further Study

This work was restricted to the use of rhetoric in poetry and how it affects the delivery of meaning in

Zambian poetry. The work cannot cover sufficiently areas such as popular music and rhetoric as in popular music

there is considerable use of rhetorical devices. A study in that area would be very meaningful to scholars.

Having suggested that poetry should be taught in schools suggests that inability to compose very effectively

can be blamed on the poets’ lack of formal training. While formal training interferes with the art, it would still be

suggested that academicians can look into the effects of formal training in the arts on artists. They could focus on

how artists are advantaged and disadvantaged by formal training in the arts.

Finally, research into the effect of traditional oral composition and its effect on modern poets could help

explain issues to do with expression of meaning in modern poetry. One wonders whether poets have employed

the techniques depended on by traditional oral poetry composers. This is because as much as poetry in traditional

circles is meant for entertainment, it is also meant for education. The role of poetry in education and how this

poetry is affected by the use of stylistic devices would be well probed for an even fuller understanding of the use

of rhetoric in modern Zambian poetry.


References

Abrams, M. H. (1999). A glossary of literary terms (7th ed.). Australia: Heinle & Heinle. Anderson, R., & Brinnin, J. M. (1989). Elements of literature: Fifth course. Austin: Holt, Rhinehart, and Winston, Inc. Aristotle. (2000). Rhetoric. Retrieved December, 7, 2009, from http://classics.mit.edu/Aristotle/rhetoric.mb.txt Calder, C. (1999). Some operations of dramatic rhetoric in Richard III, I.ii. Lusaka: University of Zambia. Chipeta, C. (2000). My heart is closed. In Down Sunset Avenue and Other Poems. Lusaka: Multimedia Publications. Chipopu, M. (2002). Blessed baby. In F. W. B. Akuffo (Ed.). The African renaissance local action. Lusaka: University of Zambia

Development Students Association. David, A. (2000). The Norton anthology of English literature (7th ed.). London: W. W. Norton and Company. Davis, S. (1991). Bus stop—to Edna Juliana. In My Africa Rebirth. Lusaka: Printpark Zambia Limited. Kennedy, G. A. (1980). Classical rhetoric and its christian and tradition from ancient to modern times. United States of America:

The University of Carolina Press. Khozi, M. (2001). I Just Didn’t Listen. In M. Nalumango (Ed.), Under the African Skies: Poetry from Zambia. Lusaka: Zambia

Women Writers Association. McMahon, F. B., MacMahon, J. W., & Romano, T. (1995). Psychology and you. St. Paul: West Publishing Company. Mtonga, M. (2008). Foreword. In G. M. Moyo (Ed.), Songs from my soul: Poems. Lusaka: Moffat Moyo. Muntemba, M. (1991). Daughter of Africa. In F. Chipasula (Ed.), A decade in poetry. Lusaka: Kenneth Kaunda Foundation. Mweseli, M. (2005). Appendix. In S. Onochie et al. (Eds.), Imagination of poets: An anthology of African poems. Port

Harcourt-Agbor-Benin: Penpower Communication Co. Roberts, E. V., & Jacobs, H. E. (2007). Literature: An introduction to reading and writing. New Jersey: Pearson Education, Inc. Sakyi, K. A. (2009). Fresh Prince of Bel Air—American Legend. In Mosi O Tunya Sounds: A Collection of 97 Pieces of African

Poems. Lusaka: Kwesi Atta Sakyi. Waite, M. (2005). Oxford compact thesaurus. Oxford: Oxford University Press.


Revisiting the Myth of Irishness and Heroism—An Analysis of

W.B. Yeats’ The Green Helmet

Joanna Zadarko

Adam Mickiewicz University in Poznań, Poznań, Poland

Using Sabina J. Müller’s theory of myth, this paper will analyze the deconstruction and revision of myths in The

Green Helmet. Irish mythology, as described by Müller, has in its inheritance a myth of Ireland being personified in

an image of a woman, a goddess of the land. This Ireland-as-woman image, as well as Irish heroism and their

fighting spirit will be investigated in Yeats’ drama to show its simplification and to mock its nature. The analysis

will also give an insight into the diversified and complex image of the Irish nation.

Keywords: myths, Irish drama, postcolonial drama, Yeats

Introduction

From the eighteenth century onwards, Irish mythology entered the Anglo-Irish tradition, yet it is still

preserved in Irish literary output. In The Green Helmet, W.B. Yeats, one of the leading figures of the Celtic

Literary Revival and Irish Renaissance, that aimed at restoring Irish culture and language, made an attempt to

demythologize two of them, heroism and Irishness, which seem to be crucial in Irish mythology. The play shows

how Yeats, incorporating the Cuchulainn character, satirizes the stereotypical perception of the Irish being a

deluded and drunken nation. Irish mythology has in its inheritance a myth of Ireland being personified in the

image of a woman, a goddess of the land. This Ireland-as-woman image, as well as Irish heroism will be

investigated in Yeats’ drama to show its simplification and to mock its nature. Using Sabina J. Müller’s theory of

myth, this paper will analyze the deconstruction and revision of myths in The Green Helmet.

Theoretical Framework

As Müller described it, a theory of myth has to explain the function of myths and how literary works achieve

specific effects by applying them. The creation of a myth can be traced back to the 12th century and one of the

mythograhpers that focuses on the creation of the myth is Mircea Eliade, for whom all myths are religious, being

based on the fundamental principle of the sacred and the profane. The first one can have, for Eliade, a threefold

effect on the latter one: “hierophany creates a sacred space, (…) establishes cosmos, order within profane, chaotic

space. (…) creates absolute reality” (Müller, 2007, p. 10). Further on, Müller states that a religious person takes

part in mythical time, in illo tempore, and that sacred time is nonhistorical—people endeavor to “regain the

sacred time by periodically reintegrating it into profane time by means of rites” (Müller, 2007, p. 11).

Joanna Zadarko, MA, Faculty of English, Adam Mickiewicz University in Poznań.

DAVID PUBLISHING

D

REVISITING THE MYTH OF IRISHNESS AND HEROISM 912

By definition, any theory of myth should be applicable to all kinds of them, but practice shows something

contrary. For example, Freudian and Jungian theories of myth are more suitable for hero myths. They are both

associated with the nature of dreams, yet while Freud relates myths to sexual wishes, Jung claims that myths abet

psychological growth. Myths, being the preconscious psyche, make the monsters, gods, and heroes more

archetypes, making their adventures symbolic representations of the ego’s consciousness. At the same time, as

Muller puts it, the Jungian and psychological approach is applicable to both primitive individuals as well as

modern society.

Primitive people feel safe and protected, because they live in a world watched over by gods. (…) If modern people want to experience safety and harmony, they must discover the self and establish a connection with the unconscious. Thus myths have for primitive and modern human beings alike the function of giving meaning to life (…). (Müller, 2007, p. 24)

Celtic mythology touched upon the motif of female figures as well as land-as-woman theme long before it

entered the Anglo-Irish tradition. Following Rosalind Clarks’s steps of its development, the image of a woman in

Celtic mythology started from the goddess of fertility, further changing into the pseudo-historical woman and

after the year 1000 standing for an allegorical land. The final stage for Clark is the 19th-century

Ireland-as-woman motif. This image was also linked with the Irish sovereignty myth, where female figures

appeared in three different dimensions: “as beautiful maidens, powerful sexual women or as an old hag” (Müller,

2007, p. 35). Later on, the aisling poems and their translation, patriotic song, and folklore, the 18th century

witnessed the emergence of Cathleen Ni Houlihan.

Cathleen was present in Irish culture and literature since that time but it was Yeats who revived her figure,

representing Ireland and standing for its personification as a sovereignty, earth pagan goddess and a woman who

the Irish went to fight and die for. Yet, while she brought fertility, she also demanded sacrifice. She was still a

goddess but there was no sovereignty—she did not have her own land, she was just striving to reclaim her four

green lands.

However, the most famous hero in Irish mythology is Cuchulainn, about whom legends and myths form a

part of the Ulster Cycle. He was also called the Irish Achilles (Ellis, 1987, p. 72). Having a mortal mother and a

divine father, Cuchulainn is mostly famous for his single-handed defense of Ulster in the war of the Táin.

Cuchulainn was married to Emer, whose hand also required a lot of effort and struggle from him. He is also a

tragic hero—he dies on a battlefield while taking revenge for the death of the king of Munster. Defeated,

exhausted and dying, he ties himself up to a pillar so that he can stand with his feet on the ground and face the

eyes of his enemies. He was a champion of all Ireland.

William Butler Yeats was almost as much a legend as the hero he was writing about. The founder of the

National Theatre Society, the Abbey Theatre, a leading figure of the Irish Literary Revival, and a 1923 Nobel

Prize winner, he was the poet and dramatist of the Irish nation. Despite the huge success of his poems, Yeats

considered himself predominantly a dramatist. With his two dozen plays and the establishment the Abbey

Theatre, he made Dublin the theatrical and dramatic centre of cultural Europe at the beginning of the 20th century,

and also brought the Irish culture and traditions into the English-speaking world (Sternlicht, 1998, p. 46).

Yeats incorporated mythical characters a number of times, those mainly being Cathleen ni Houlihan and

Cuchulain. She is the main character of one of his plays—Catleen ni Houlihan from 1902. His favourite Ulster


Cycle hero was a character of five of his plays: On Baile’s Strand (1904), The Green Helmet (1910), At the

Hawks Well (1916), The Only Jealousy of Emer (1919), and The Death of Cuchulain (1939). All five plays touch

on the life, adventures, and death of Cuchulainn, often employing mystical and symbolic motifs, as well as the

Noh dramatic tradition (At the Hawk’s Well and The Only Jealousy of Emer). Nevertheless, it is The Green

Helmet, where Yeats decides to de-mythologize the Irishness and uncover the human vanities, giving a realistic

and amusing picture of the Irish heroes and their wives.

Analysis

The Green Helmet, subtitled “An heroic farce” begins with the arrival of Cuhulainn and the appearance of

the green helmet which is thrown by the Red Man, who is going to appear again towards the end of the play.

There are three men—Cuchulainn, and two other Irish warriors—Conall and Laegaire. All three of them want to

have the green helmet, which is a symbol of superiority. Once the Red Man puts it on the ground in front of them,

they are fighting over it with each other:

Red Man: And now I bring you a gift: I will lay it there on the ground for the best of you all to lift (…) And wear upon his own head and choose for yourselves the best. (…) Let the bravest take it up. (…) Laegaire: Laegaire is the best; Between water and hill, he fought in the west (…) Conall: Give it me (…) Cuchulainn: No, no, but give it to me. Conall: The Helmet’s mine or Laegaire’s – you’re the youngest of us three. (The Green Helmet, line 65-66)

The three men are boasting about their courage, fearless deeds, and heroic attitude which give all of them the

right to have and wear the noble green helmet. They swell with pride, looking at the helmet in their hands. The

whole scene, however, is far from heroic, rather it is down-to-earth and shows self-pride and inability to reach a

compromise, which Yeats might have mirrored in the Irish nation. Overtly brave fighters and men of their nation,

yet giving a false impression. Secular and human vanity almost lost them. Fortunately, in the same scene,

Cuchulainn comes to save the honour of all three and fills the helmet with ale and asks the other warriors to drink

with him so that all of them would be equal and no one would feel superior or inferior. They all drink from the

helmet and Cuchulainn throws it into the sea.

The above scene also demonstrates the Jungian theory described by Müller. It illustrates how the presence of

mythology and gods, in this case the mythical figure of the Red Man, and the importance of the green helmet,

helps people find meaning in their lives. The possession of the green helmet, or any other attribute of superiority,

might have a purpose in a warrior’s life. Fighting over it, as in the scene above, demonstrates, however, that it was

not also accompanied by heroic behavior or a noble deed.


Not only is heroism presented and de-mythologized in the play. Further on, we can observed how Yeats

revised the Ireland-as-woman image. As Müller puts it, “the personification of Ireland as it appears in nationalist

discourse and traditional literature simplifies” (Müller, 2007, p. 78). The woman is both a passive and at the same

symbolic figure, with no complex feelings or ambitions, or she may be presented as it tempers with the history of

the Irish people. Also bearing in mind the previously mentioned sovereignty of a woman that stands for Ireland in

Celtic mythology, Yeats gives us quiet a contrary picture of Irish women.

A second amusing episode in the Green Helmet comes with a scene where the women of the three

warriors—Cuchulainn, Conall, and Laegaire’s wives—want to enter the building, and all three of them would

like to enter first, since they feel they deserve supremacy due to their husbands’ noble feats or other achievements.

The exchange of their arguments is comical:

Laegaire’s Wife: (…) Mine is the better to look at. Conall’s Wife: (…) But mine is better born. Emer: (…) My man is the pithier man. (The Green Helmet, line 78)

The three women cannot agree upon the order of their entrance. Every wife wants to enter first, feeling

superior to the others. One might say that the image of Irish woman as a strong, regal, and powerful figure who

stands up for the nation, at the same time denoting the allegorical green fields and Ireland itself is here shattered

and diminished. Female vanity comes in its place showing how shallow, arrogant, and self-centered Irish women

can be. The Ireland-as-woman image is also not simplified, nor is the image of woman, since the three ladies in

Yeats’ play show mere pretension and conceit. The author made them appear devoid of any mythological or

divine qualities. The Irishness, woman as a symbol of the land, the personification of Ireland, is somehow prone

to human error and temptations While Jung stated that myths abet psychological growth, here one can observe the

clashing representation of women. Prone to vanity and with no ability to reach a compromise for the better good,

these Irish women are imperfect and fail to control their ego or consciousness. Being superior is the chief aim of

the three ladies. The scene, however, is once again saved by Cuchulainn who breaks the door and lets the three

ladies enter simultaneously, indicating at the same time their equality.

Towards the end of the play, the Red Man emerges again and demands his debt be paid, and for one head cut

off. Cuchulainn saves the situation once more and steps out, willing to be the victim. He volunteers to sacrifice

himself in the name of and for the sake of his people. Nevertheless, his speech just before he wants to give himself

to the Red Man, uncovers some of the blemishes of his character:

Cuchulainn: (…) So I will give my head [Emer begins to kneel] Little wife, little wife, be at rest. Alive I have been far off in all Lands under the sun And been no faithful man; but when my story is done My fame shall spring up and laugh, and set you high above all. (The Green Helmet, line 88)

Cuchulainn displays heroism in his willingness to sacrifice himself for the nation and allow his head to be

cut off. His courage and warrior spirit cannot be denied, yet he also reveals one of his characteristics that is less


noble in its nature. He faces his wife’s begging him not to sacrifice himself, and to answer her pleading admits

that he was not a faithful husband while away from home, which apparently happened fairly frequently. Although

having betrayed Emer a number of times, at same time breaking his marriage vows, he does not feel sorry for

what he did and he even explains to his wife that thanks to his other deeds she will be raised up in the world. The

mythical figure of Cuchulainn, even though he makes the huge sacrifice of his own life, is devalued and

diminished. He is a human and earthly figure driven by his sexual desires. His weaknesses are also mentioned in

the very last passages of the play, in the final speech of the Red Man: “the hand that loves to scatter, the life that

like a gambler’s throw (…)” (The Green Helmet, line 91). Bodily, mortal and sexual motifs drove Cuchulainn,

the greatest warrior in Ireland, to succumb to his own weaknesses.

Conclusion

As has been presented, Yeats managed to deconstruct the myth of both heroism, in the character of

Cuchulainn and the other Irish warriors, as well as the myth of Ireland-as-woman. The three warriors showed no

understanding and merely pride, wanting to posses the green helmet. Lack of humility and modesty revealed their

faulty nature. The image of woman standing for the notion of Ireland and Irishness was also ridiculed by Yeats.

The three ladies present in Yeats’ play were vain and self-centered to the extent that they also could not reach a

solution, nor they could reach a compromise. Bereft of regal mythical virtues or female grace, they were stubborn

and uncompromising to the very end. Superiority over others was more important to them. Finally, Cuchulainn

himself proved to be of faulty, human nature, as well—admitting to have cheated on his wife and showing

resentment towards his wife’s attitude. The Green Helmet shows how the divine and regal nature of myth is

deconstructed by the human vanities that Yeats uncovers throughout the play. A deluded nation, unable to reach a

compromise, that is the image presented by Yeats. A hero prone to human errors and a woman clothed in vanity

and stubbornness. Nevertheless, Yeats also presented Cuchulainn as a hero who is ultimately able to find

solutions to problems without leaving anyone feeling inferior, and as a hero who is willing to sacrifice himself for

the life of his people. Some virtues of a true warrior and a man of his nation are still there among the Irish for

Yeats. The myth of Irishness and heroism was thus ridiculed and deconstructed, yet it was also revised. Perhaps,

for contemporary Ireland, which is a postcolonial nation struggling in a search for identity in an English-speaking

world, it is now time to revise their myths again, as a source of inspiration and cultural identity.

References

Ellis, P. B. (1987). A dictionary of Irish mythology. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Foster, R. F. (1989). The Oxford history of Ireland. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Müller, S. J. (2007). Through the mythograhers’s eye: Myth and legend in the work of Seamus Heaney and Eavan Boland.

Göttingen: Hubert & Co. Murray, C. (1997). Twentieth-century Irish drama: Mirror up the nation. Syracuse: Syracuse University Press. Sternlicht, S. (1998). A reader’s guide to modern Irish drama. Syracuse: Syracuse University Press. Yeats, W. B. (1912). The Green Helmet. London: MacMillan & Co.


Hypothetical Earlier Dating for

The Passionate Pilgrim and First Folio

W. Ron Hess

Did part or all of Shakespeare’s The Passionate Pilgrim (TPP) actually predate 1593 Venus & Adonis (V&A) and

1594 Rape of Lucrece (RofL)? Oddly enough, that may be the case, because the sole extant copy of its first edition

has no title page, thus no date. Copies of its second edition do have a title page and are clearly dated 1599, plus a

1612 augmented project was marked “third edition”. Thus, it should be significant that some of TPP’s poetry have

been found in manuscript or early publications back to the early 1590s, and in one case perhaps as early as 1585.

But TPP may be a relic of a much larger anthology of poetry which possibly existed in manuscript circa 1589-94,

was revised circa 1610-12 to accompany an intended publication of all of Shakespeare’s works (poetry and drama),

but was not fully published until nearly three decades later. It is also notable that the 1640 anthology attributed to

Shakespeare contained TPP plus lengthy poetic paraphrases from Ovid in much the same mold as V&A and RofL.

Moreover, the 1640 anthology may hold a key to radically earlier dating of the 1623 First Folio (F1). We will

briefly delve into the murky world of the Elizabethan publishing world of the 1580s and beyond, wherein the 17th

Earl of Oxford’s former servant, Anthony Munday, may have had an important role in the disposition of each

“Shake-speare” work.

Keywords: Shakespeare, Passionate Pilgrim, First Folio, 1640 Poems, Thomas Heywood, William Jaggard,

Leonard Digges, Anthony Munday

Introduction

In 1612 Thomas Heywood appeared to complain about a transgression by the printer William Jaggard,

and even apologize to William Shakespeare, for Jaggard’s printing under Shakespeare’s name two Heywood

poems earlier printed by Jaggard. This of course causes problems for those who believe that Shakespeare was

retired or otherwise not in the London literary scene by 1612. Is there a resolution? One may be found through

careful re-examination of the dating of 1599 The Passionate Pilgrim (TPP), in recognition that the sole extant

copy of the first edition is undated, or glibly declared to be “by-1599”, when the present author argues it may

have been published as early as 1589-94. Redating the Q1 of TPP also allows a redating of the project to

prepare what became the 1623 First Folio (F1). This is based on association of the contents of TPP with the

1640 Poems by Mr. Will Shake-speare, which had within it what may be a continuation of Leonard Digges’

W. Ron Hess, CISSP, BA History, MS Computer Sciences; Retired Civil Servant and former Adjunct Professor in IT Security

at Johns Hopkins University Graduate Extension Center, Gaithersburg, MD. URL: http://home.earthlink.net/~beornshall/index.html/. E-mail: [email protected].

DAVID PUBLISHING

D

HYPOTHETICAL EARLIER DATING FOR THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM AND FIRST FOLIO 917

dedicatory poem from F1, providing clues to when the poem, and hence the F1 project itself, was likely

originated. All this requires us to have our minds creatively attuned to the facts available, as opposed to

“received opinion”.

Opening Game, up to 1599

Shakespeare’s The Passionate Pilgrim (TPP, generally dated at “by 1599”) has had a long and twisted road

from “origination” of its parts to inclusion (or exclusion) in the Bard’s canon. Before we begin tracing its poems,

each of which may have had earlier dates than did TPP as a whole, note that many orthodox scholars doubt

Shakespeare wrote much of it at all (the Online Lit Site1 has TPP’s text, saying other poets in TPP include

“Richard Barnfield, Bartholemew Griffin, Christopher Marlowe, and Sir Walter Raleigh”). In fact, besides five

poems found in other works attributed to Shakespeare, and despite the fact that all of TPP was attributed to him

on its title page (which they feel was a “piracy”), some doubt any other TPP poems were by him, often putting

them in “Various Poems” or “Sonnets to Sundry Notes of Music”. As Greenblatt’s Norton Shakespeare (1997)

opined:

Modern editions of the complete works routinely exclude many of [his “Various Poems”]—in most instances wrongly, it seems... Ironically, the major exceptions are the poems from The Passionate Pilgrim (1599), some or all twenty of which are often included, presumably on the strength of the original publisher’s assertion of Shakespeare’s authorship. Nonetheless, Shakespeare is likely to have written only the five pieces in that collection that are lifted from his other works (the sonnets and Love’s Labour’s Lost). At least four poems in the collection are clearly [??] by other writers. Among the other eleven, which remain anonymous..., numbers 4, 6, and 9—all sonnets—are noteworthy for their focus on the theme of Venus and Adonis, to which they may be a response. (p. 1,991)

Frankly, this author joins Chiljan’s (2012) appraisal about TPP: “...that these poems were written by

Shakespeare, just as [Wm. Jaggard’s 2nd] edition implies... The evidence that four poems were written

by other writers is also dubious” (p. 74, 80). It makes little sense for orthodox scholars to attribute to

“unknown” 10 or 11 of the 20 TPP poems just because they arbitrarily suspect three or four poems were not

by Shakespeare due to instances of them in other anthologies, and then use that pretext to degrade most of the

rest!

The numbering of TPP varies from one modern collection to another. So, we can construct our own Table 1

by using the chart from the Wikipedia’s TPP site2, adding this author’s hypothetical “Hess’ Dates(?)” and

“Dating Notes” for each, plus a bottom-line hypothetical to be discussed later. For purposes of this article, the

“Hess’ dates (?)” in Table 1 are less concerned with the date that a given poem first appeared in publication than

with when it was likely to have been circulating in manuscript (MS), and then when it was available for Jaggard

to have "borrowed" the assembled MSS as his printing career began circa 1591-94 (not counting any printing he

may have done even earlier, in his apprenticeship).

1 Retrieved from www.online-literature.com/shakespeare/333/. 2 Retrieved from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Passionate_Pilgrim.


Table 1

The Passionate Pilgrim (TPP, “by 1599” O1, 1599 O2) “by W. Shakespeare”

Redated to c. 1589-94 (This Author’s Hypothesis of an Aborted Project of TPP + Other Poetry)

TPP # Hess’ dates(?) Dating notes Orthodox now attribute it to First line begins

1 1586-94 A] Shakesp. (SON 138) “When my love swears that...”

2 1586-94 A] Shakesp. (SON 144) “Two loves I have, of...”

3 1594< B] Shakesp. (LLL IViii) “Did not the heavenly...”

4 1594* C] D] >> Unknown “Sweet Cytherea, sitting...”

5 1594< B] Shakesp. (LLL IVii) “If love make me forsworn...”

6 1594* C] D] >> Unknown “Scarce had the sun dried...”

7 1594* C] >> Unknown “Fair is my love, but not...”

8 1589-98 E] Rich. Barnfield “If music and sweet poetry...”

9 1594* C] D] >> Unknown “Fair was the morn when...”

10 1594* C] F] >> Unknown “Sweet rose, fair flower...”

11 1590-96 E] Barthol. Griffin “Venus with young Adonis...”

12 1593 E] >> “Th. Deloney?” “Crabbed age and youth...”

13 1594* C] >> Unknown “Beauty is but a vain and...”

14 1594* C] G] >> Unknown “Good-night, good rest...”

15 1594-95 G] H] >> Unknown “It was a lordling’s daughter...”

16 1594< B] G] Shakesp. (LLL IViii) “On a day (alack the day)”

17 1590-97 G] >> Unknown “My flockes feed not, my...”

18 1585-90 G] I] >> Unknown “When as my eyes hath...”

19 1589-93 G] J] Chris. Marlowe & Walter Raleigh “Live with me and be my...”

20 1594-98 E] G] Rich. Barnfield “As it fell upon a day”

Notes. The bracketted bold letters are “Dating note” symbols corresponding to the “Dating notes” which immediately follow. For example, the “1594*” items are explained in note # C] below. Each poem is explained by one or more “Dating note(s)”.

Dating Notes:

A] Hess’ 2007 article shows that of Sh’s 1609 Sonnets the only reasonably “datable” were #107, #123, and

#124, dated at 1586-89 from analysis of Prof. Leslie Hotson in his 1937 book (pp. 4-32), and #119 datable to the

1570s from analysis in the late Robert Brazil’s 2000 self-published book (p. 40). Thus, this author dates TPP #1

(=Sonnet #138) and #2 (= Sonnet #144) to at latest 1586-94, although leaving these high-numbered sonnets at

“by-1599” still makes it clear that the great bulk of Shakespeare’s sonnets were written prior to 1600 (and even

the supposition that the Sh. 1609 Sonnets were in an order intended by Sh. himself can be challenged, as this

author has done in his Oct 2004 article, pp. 1-7).

B] The 3 poems from Love’s Labour’s Lost (LLL) are #3 (= “Longaville’s” sonnet in IV iii), #5 (= “Sir

Nathaniel’s” sonnet in IVii), and #16 (or Sundry #2, = “Dumain’s” 18-liner in IViii). LLL is dated by orthodox

scholars as already in performance 1594-95, first in print 1598, with “W. Shakespeare” on its title page (the first

Sh. play not anonymous!), and among the 12 plays noted by Meres in Sept. 1598. This author’s Vol. II, pp.

214-15 dates LLL’s “origination” to 1574-76, with revisions 1578-83, 88, & 98. Thus, the 3 poems dated by this

author to “1594<” at latest, are based on the performance datings for LLL; but this author’s published datings for

“origination” of LLL could easily place those poems to c. 1583 or earlier. Note that this author’s concept of

“origination” covers periods of writing, revising, private circulation, performance or recitation in private venues,


and other activities prior to first public performance or publication. The orthodox approach of only using the

latter two as evidence ignores the culture and habits of upperclass English society of that time, when poorly

documented palace, salon, Blackfriars, and other private entertainments were far more important drivers of art

than they are today.

C] The 7 anonymous poems (among 11 that Chiljan calls “orphan poems”, pp. 74-75) that this author dates

as “1594*”, were related in subject or form to Sh’s 1593 V&A, and may be earlier (as any MS of V&A likely was

before its publication!).

D] Chiljan (75, from Rollins, 278) noted that #4, #6, & #9 each had links to Sh’s Taming of the Shrew (TOS),

where the setting in #4 & #9 “puts Cytherea (Venus) and Adonis in a setting very similar” to the painting of

Venus & Adonis described in TOS (Induction ii.43-47). Thus, note this author’s Vol. II, pp. 217-19 dates TOS’

“origination” to 1575-76, with revisions 1578-82 & 94. Chiljan continued by stating that #6 “presents perhaps the

best claim to Sh’s authorship on the grounds of vocabulary, subject matter and imagery...” (p. 75, from C.H.

Hobday’s 1973 “Sh’s Venus and Adonis Sonnets”, Sh. Survey 26, pp. 103-99).

E] Dating rationale are given in the text below for #8, #11, & #12 based on their publication in prior

anthologiess; but note that the editors or publishers of anthologies did not necessarily write each and every poem

in their anthologies (or none, as with John Bodenham), and these may still have been “originated” earlier by Sh!

F] Chiljan (75, from Rollins, 296) notes that #10 “resembles Sh’s Sonnet #54” (“If the dull substance of my

flesh were thought”), for which see my note A] above dating at 1586-94.

G] TPP was originally unnumbered, and in the extant copy at the Folger library of “by 1599” TPP Q1, #14

was only 2 stanzas, skipping to today’s #16. In 1599 TPP Q2, #14 was 5 stanzas followed by a separate title page

of “Sonnets to sundry notes of Musicke”, then #15 and onward (still unnumbered). So, many systems make it #14

& #15, adding 1 to each higher #, as in the system used here from the Wiki chart. Chiljan (75, from Rollins, 296)

notes that TPP #14 “echoes Romeo and Juliet [R&J] (III.v.43-47)”. For which note that this author’s Vol. II, pp.

252-55 dates R&J “origination” to 1578-83, with revisions 1591-95 & 97.

H] Some Oxfordians see #15 as an apt description of Oxford’s Vere family, with his 3 daughters. The eldest

(or “fairest”?), Elizabeth Vere, wed at Court in Jan 1594/5 to William Stanley (W.S.), who had recently become

6th Earl of Derby, which may also have been occasion for a performance of Sh’s Midsummer Nights Dreame. Yet,

the Jan. 1594/5 wedding had been postponed for nearly a year pending birth of W.S.’ niece (if she had been a he,

W.S. would not have inherited his late brother’s earldom, remaining “a Knight”). There was an earlier romance

going back to their meeting at a royal visitation at Elvinden in 1591; so #15 could date years earlier.

I] About #18, more is given below and Wiki says, “Three versions of the poem exist in manuscript

miscellanies”, giving no details, though this author has noted a 1585-90 version, and another may be Folger MS

2071.7, a circa-1650 handwritten commonplace. Chiljan (75-76) suggests that #18 “mirrors Canto 47 in Willobie

His Avisa ([WHA] 1594), a satire that was pointedly directed at Sh. and the Earl of Southampton”. This mirroring

is also discussed in John Roe’s e-book article. This author mostly agrees, but his website Article #14 denies that

WHA’s “Mr. H.W.” = Henry Wriothesley (3rd Earl of Southampton), largely on grounds that “H.W.” was defined

in WHA as an Italianate Spaniard who slowly pined away and died for unrequited love by the end, and that all of

the suitors of “Avisa” were from the 1550s to 70s, not from the 1590s. These and other points better match the

1574-78 suit for Q. Elizabeth’s hand by the heroic half-brother of Spain’s Philip II, Don Juan of Austria (d. 1578),


and thus dates WHA’s “origination” to circa 1579-83, when the marriage contract of “the Frenchman” (= Duc d’

Anjou-Alencon) with Q. Elizabeth was in force. In WHA, “the Frenchman” was apparently alive at the end—thus,

another clue is that after departing England in 1583, the syphalitic Anjou-Alencon famously died in 1584, leaving

his Protestant cousin Henri de Navarre as heir presumptive to the throne of France, and precipitating continuance

of their half century of religion-based Civil Wars. The end result, apparently overlooked by all prior analysts to

this author, was that WHA dated its own “origination” to after Don Juan’s death in 1578 and before

Anjou-Alencon’s death in 1584.

J] Raleigh’s small part of #19 may date later (more on Raleigh below), but Marlowe’s 1593 death delimits

his much larger part. Of course, this assumes that later attributions to the two (vs. to Sh.) have merit, which this

author greatly doubts.

------

Let’s begin our chronology with the 1580s, and a manuscript (MS) at the Folger Library (“Corwallis-Lyons

MS” Folger MSS 1.112) described by the late Ruth Lloyd Miller in 1975 (369-94). In 1588, the 17th Earl of

Oxford sold his “Fisher’s Folly” estate (just outside of London’s Bishopsgate) to his friend and distant relative Sir

William Cornwallis. Along with the estate went Oxford’s servant, the exquisite poet of Latin & English, Thomas

Watson, who had dedicated his 1582 Hekatompathia to Oxford. Watson lived there until his death in 1592,

serving as tutor to the Cornwallis children, possibly including Anne. She was born c.1575 in Scotland, after 1610

was the Catholic 2nd wife of the 7th Earl of Argyll (or Argyle), was later a reputed author herself, died 1635, and

a print of her is available from the National Portrait Gallery, London3.

Whether via Watson, via her cousin the future Sir George Buc (Miller, 392-93, from 1608 to 22 he was

Master of the Revels with censorship authority, but in 1582 he had contributed a dedicatory poem to Watson’s

Hekatompathia), or via her father in accessing Oxford’s circle, Anne had an acquaintance with poets’ MS works

which were in private circulation in the mid-to-late 1580s. We can tell as much from her leather-bound 19-leaves

“Common-place Book” (i.e., a scrapbook of MS poems) with her name on the owner’s signature page and the

spine’s title “Poems by Vere Earl of Oxford & c.” Miller (p. 371) noted that in the mid-1800s, J.O.

Halliway-Phillips had owned the MS and dated its contents to before 1590. Of its 33 poems, 16 had open names

or initials attributed (thus, 17 were anonymous), 2 were by Sir Philip Sidney (died 1586), 2 by Oxford’s

ex-mistress of 1580-81, Anne Vavasour (mother of his natural son), 7 by John Bentley (died 1585, an actor in the

Oxford’s Men troupe), and 2 were openly attributed to Oxford himself (“Were I a King” and “When I was Fair

and Young”). Not all scholars agree with every attribution made in the MS; still, we’ve seen here that dating the

whole MS to circa 1585-90 is objectively not difficult.

Two of the Cornwallis MSS poems have been attributed to Sir Walter Raleigh, which merits comment. In

the early-to-mid 1580s, the now-famous Raleigh was rising rapidly, even to the point that he was able in 1583 to

facilitate Oxford’s return to Court (the latter had been banished after the March 1581 ill-favored birth of his

natural son by Anne Vavasour in the Queen’s own chambers at Court). But in the 1570s, Raleigh had begun as a

retainer or hanger-on to Oxford (Peck, 428), even to the point of apparently conveying a letter on Oxford’s behalf

dated Nov 27, 1574 to Cornwall (this author’s Vol. II, pp. 63-70). The often reviled John Aubrey’s late-1690s

3 Retrieved from www.npg.org.uk/collections/search/portrait/mw134590/Anne-Cornwallis-Countess-of-Argyll.


MSS Brief Lives depicted Raleigh as Oxford’s second in a duel (Brown, 255), and Oxford was known to have

been wounded in a 1581 duel with Sir Thomas Vavasour (Anne’s uncle); Aubrey also claimed that Raleigh was in

a poetry group including Oxford, his cousins Francis & Horatio Vere, Ben Jonson, and others (256). Thus,

finding Raleigh’s poetry amidst Oxford’s circle is not surprising, pushing back into the 1580s the one TPP poem

(#19) credited partly to Raleigh.

The most striking poem in the Cornwallis MS (among the 17 with no name attributions) was this one

beginning/ending:

“When that thine eye hath chose the dame/... To heare her secrets thus bewrayede”.

In the later TPP a very similar version (TPP #18) of that poem read:

“When as thine eie hath chose the dame,/... To hear her secrets so bewray’d”.

Chiljan (75) says in her opinion the MS is the better version. Regardless, we can conclude that at least some

of TPP existed as early as 1585-90, and as with much of the dating that we do here, it may have existed and been

in private circulation even earlier. Rather than Shakespeare “stealing” poems from others, they much more likely

stole from him (we’ll see in 1612, T. Heywood feared the appearance of having stolen from Shakespeare)!

Before we leave the Cornwallis MS, although it was never published, it still constituted an anthology of

poems. So, why is it that modern scholars fail to apply to it the same standard that they do to other TPP poems

from early anthologies? Why do they not credit TPP #18 to the collector/editor of that MS, as they do for

Barnfield or Deloney? For example, in certain collections of 1600, they do not credit poems to the collector, John

Bodenham. So, why do so for Barnfield or Deloney unless orthodox scholars are desperate to avoid having the

poems credited to Oxford-Shakespeare? One possible answer is that the downgrading in orthodox estimation of

TPP seems to parallel the rise of Oxfordianism (the first Oxfordian book was in 1920).

Next in our cavalcade, note that TPP #8 makes mention of composer John Dowland (1563-1626) and

“Spencer” (i.e., Edmund Spenser, 1552?-99), reading in part:

...Because thou lov’st the one, and I the other./ Dowland to thee is dear, whose heavenly touch/ Upon the lute doth ravish human sense;/ Spencer to me, whose deep conceit is such,/ As passing all conceit, needs no defence... (Sh’s TPP # 8)

Obviously, this poem was “originated” prior to Spenser’s death in 1599 (though his Shepherd’s Calendar

had made him famous since the early-1580s), thus at least pre-dating TPP’s 1599 2nd edition. The poem is now

attributed to Richard Barnsfield on the strength of its inclusion in his 1598 The Encomion of Lady Pecunia, in its

appended “Poems in Divers Humors” (along with TPP’s #20). But the allusion to “Dowland” may provide us

with a much earlier dating, because he was little known until in circa 1594-95 his “Lachrimae” (= “Flow My

Tears”) was made public and rapidly became the most popular song in the Jacobean era. Part of the reason for its

popularity was that it was dedicated by Dowland to the young wife of King James VI of Scotland, Anne of

Denmark. The Danish Court was so pleased with it that Dowland was hired as their Court Composer and music

tutor to the royal children, and he was essentially in Denmark for most of the next decade. But, when did

Dowland really write and dedicate it, since it could have remained in private circulation for years before it

became public, yet certainly available to Oxford’s circle? A beginning date would be 1589, when James sailed to

Norway and Denmark to wed his bride. Thus, a “1589 to early-1590s” dating for TPP #8 should apply!


Before we leave Barnsfield’s 1598 Lady Pecunia (printed by John Jaggard, older brother of the more famous

printer William Jaggard), note that its appendix also contained one of the earliest poetic tributes to Shakespeare,

in the context that he was worthy of comparison with the immortal fame shared by Edmond Spenser, Samuel

Daniel, and Michael Drayton. This author includes it here because it hasn’t been much noted in Oxfordian

literature. One might say it wasn’t quite as “immortall” as its topic:

A Remembrance Of Some English Poets (from 1598 & 1605 Lady Pecunia)

Live Spenser ever, in thy Fairy Queene: Whose like (for deepe Conceit) was never seene. Crownd mayst thou bee, unto thy more renowne, (As King of Poets) with a Lawrell Crowne.

And Daniell, praised for thy sweet-chast Verse: Whose Fame is grav’d on Rosamonds blacke Herse. Still mayst thou live: and still be honored, For that rare Worke, The White Rose and the Red.

And Drayton, whose wel-written Tragedies, And sweete Epistles, soare thy fame to skies. Thy learned Name, is aequall with the rest; Whose stately Numbers are so well addrest.

And Shakespeare thou, whose hony-flowing Vaine, (Pleasing the World) thy Praises doth obtaine. Whose Venus, and whose Lucrece (sweete, and chaste) Thy Name in fames immortall Booke have plac’t. Live ever you, at least in Fame live ever: Well may the Bodye dye, but Fame dies never.

(from 1598 & 1605 Lady Pecunia, as included in the Spenserians website4)

The 1605 2nd edition of Pecunia (printed by Wm. Jaggard and James Roberts) omitted the appendix with

TPP #8 & #20, but still included this “Remembrance” poem. Wouldn’t Jaggard and Roberts, both printers of

Shakespeare-related books, have known that by 1605 at least one of “Remembrance’s” immortals was dead?

Note that it addresses all four poets (each alive in 1598) as if they were already dead, but immortal through the

greatness of their poetry. As such, it invites comparison to the “ever-living poet” used in the dedication to 1609

Sonnets, where “ever” and “never” may be notable too. But it seems plausible that the omission of Watson (d.

1592) and Marlowe (d. 1593) as 5th and 6th honorees is a clue to c. 1594 as an earlier date for preparation of

Barnfield’s Pecunia project. Q. Elizabeth had named Spenser as her “Poet Laureate” (= “king of poets”) in circa

1593, based on his 1591 Fairie Queene. Watson and Marlowe had died, but were still revered; thus, the

“Remembrance” might be recognition that England had lost great poets in the unmentioned Watson and Marlowe,

but those surviving four still deserved praise for taking up the slack! Nevertheless, this does diminish some of the

force of the Oxfordian argument that “Ever-living Poet” in 1609 Sonnets meant that the Bard was dead at that

time, since some of the honorees in this poem were alive even in 1605, though extorted to “live ever”.

4 Retrieved from http://spenserians.cath.vt.edu/TextRecord.php?action=GET&textsid=32914.


Proceeding onward, the Wikipedia entry for TPP lists the first lines for each of the 20 (or 21) poems and who

those are attributed to, in many cases from earlier publications with attributions to other men. A number of the

TPP poems were first published earlier than 1598, including these two:

#17 1597 in Thomas Weelkes’ Madrigals to 3, 4, 5 and 6 Voices.

#11 1596 in Bartholomew Griffin’s (?) Fidessa (On the theme of Venus and Adonis, as is Shakespeare’s

1593 V&A poem).

But the one most intriguing may be #12 (“Crabbed age and youth”). It has been doubtfully attributed to

Thomas Deloney on the strength of it appearing in his The Garden of Good Will (GGW). But that was entered in

the Stationer’s Register (S.R.) in March 5, 1592/3 (i.e., before the calendar year change on March 25 of our

modern 1593, because the official year was reckoned from the holiday celebrating the annunciation of Mary’s

pregnancy, or “Lady Day”, each year, or nine months before the birth of Jesus). This author examined relevant

titles in the English Short Title Index (ESTC) and Early English Books Online (EEBO), finding that GGW

contained TPP #12 in all extant editions, the earliest extant being 1628. The Wiki entry states:

Deloney died in 1600; he might be the author of 12, though collections of his verse issued after his death contain poems by other authors. Critic Hallett Smith [in 1974 The Riverside Sh., pg. 1,787] has identified poem 12 as the one most often favoured by readers as possibly Shakespearean—“but there is nothing to support the attribution”. (See the Wikipedia entry for TPP)

The S.R. entry date for GGW was over a month before Shakespeare’s Venus and Adonis (V&A) was entered.

The practice at the time was for the printer or publisher to come before the Wardens with a copy of whatever was

to be published, to allow inspection before official authorization of the project, and then entry into the S.R.

Presumably, #12 would have been in what was presented in March 1592/3. And thus, this date plus others

pre-1593 above enable us to date some component poems of TPP to before V&A was published.

Now we get to the greatest dating problem about TTP: we do not really have a date for TTP’s 1st edition

Octavo (8to, where each page was half the size of a Quarto page, or a quarter size of a Folio page; see

Adams-1939 for a facsimile of the entire O1)! As stated in this article’s Abstract and Introduction, the sole extant

copy is 11 sheaves at the Folger Library, lacking the title-page, and thus lacking a date. And because there’s no

record of it ever being entered in the S.R. for the “by-1599” 8to 1 or 1599 8to 2, the presumption is that it was

“unauthorized” (meaning put together without permission of the authors involved) or even “pirated” (meaning

the printer-publishers did not have ownership of the project, technically illegal). In fact, we do not even know for

sure that TTP 8to 1 was attributed to Shakespeare on its title-page like 1599 8to 2 was. Scholars have confirmed

that 8to 1 was in a different setting, but printed with the same type that was used for 8to 2 by Wm. Jaggard

(Adams, iv; might W.J. have used his brother John’s type?). But Jaggard’s career as a printer-publisher had begun

in late 1591 when he was freed of his eight years of apprenticeship under Henry Denham. He may have been a

journeyman under Denham or in his brother’s shop. He might have even been under John Charlewood (whose

business Jaggard would eventually buy), and then by 1594 he was already active in the trade (Plomer et al., 1910,

pp. 151-153).

In his studies of the Elizabethan publishing industry, this author has even found isolated examples of

apprentices or journeymen printing or publishing projects before starting their own businesses (e.g., the two 1590

eds. of the Travels of Edw. Webbe were each printed by teams of apprentices-journeymen; and Anthony Munday


was listed as “publisher” in dedications to at least two 1580s works, while he had apparently never completed his

1576-84 apprenticeship to printer John Allde). And many journeymen for practical economic reasons found

themselves no longer welcome in the shops they had apprenticed in. As a matter of survival they either went

elsewhere or simply disappeared into the underground (as it appears Wm. Jaggard did 1591-1605!). One can use

the ESTC or EEBO to trace printers’ or publishers’ careers, and it is not unusual to find them dropping out of

history, not entering projects into the S.R. for example, only to reemerge a decade or more later as full-fledged

operators (e.g., Anthony Munday’s kinsman and fellow printer’s apprentice William Hall disappeared from 1584

until the early 1600s, when he re-emerged as largely a printer of religious tracts and perhaps a shady dealer in

publishing projects, likely including the “pirated” 1609 Sonnets by William Shake-speare, where he seems to

have been the “Mr. W. H. ALL” of the Sonnets dedication). How did these men survive in their dark years? This

author’s opinion is that a good many of them likely found work with “pirate printers”, with secret presses, or

executing projects during curfew hours (Sundays, holidays, after dark, etc.). Munday’s career is checkered with

projects which use his many pseudonyms, often hint at hiding secrets, in many cases appear to have been type-set

separately by Munday and whatever crews he might assemble, then brought to his printer and publisher friends

for illicit publication, etc. And Munday’s relationship with nearly all of the Shakespeare-related printers and

publishers makes it appear, as discussed in this author’s Vol. II, pp. 480-495, as a prime suspect for “the

Publishing Shepherd of ‘the Shakespeare Enterprise’”.

In fact, many journeymen printers never became Master Printers, because technically only 25 Master

Printers were allowed to own and operate presses at any time (though, some of the 25 owned multiple presses and

shops!). And periodically there would be purges of “pirate presses”, as in June 1599 when the Archbishop issued

a list of printers to be punished (some of them Shakespeare-related) and works to be burned (e.g., 1594 & 98

Willobie His Avisa)! Ironically, one of the men whose official tasks included arresting pirate printers was

Oxford’s former servant, Anthony Munday, who had circa 1586-1604 been granted the office of “Messenger at

Her Majesties Chamber”. On that note, we may rhetorically ask, who better to guard the henhouse than the great

fox himself? Although Munday was officially a Draper (a guild allied to the Stationers), this author believes he

was a secret (thus illegal) printer-publisher from 1577 to 1633, and during his first 15 years he was a de facto

partner with printer John Charlewood (by this author’s count from ESTC and EEBO, about 1/2 of Munday’s

projects went to Charlewood’s shops, and about 1/4 of Charlewood’s inventory was Munday projects)!

Table 1 hypothesized existance of a circa 1589-94 aborted project to publish TPP and other poetry by

Shakespeare. We know that Shakespeare’s V&A and RofL were being prepared, and his Sonnets, or a good many

of them, were being circulated, as Meres alluded to in 1598 Palladis Tamia (Halliday, 1952, p. 12):

...so the sweete wittie soule of Ovid lives in mellifluous & hony-tongued Shakespeare, witness his Venus and Adonis, his Lucrece, his sugred Sonnets among his private friends, &c.

Presumably some of the rest of Shakespeare’s canon poetry was similarly in the air. And as we know,

Jaggard (or whoever published TPP 8to 1) somehow got hold of 5 genuine Shakespeare works, including 2 of the

sonnets. So, why should we assume that TPP was a lonely anthology, when there were likely so many other

poems Shakespeare may have intended to be published in c. 1589-94, or at least were circulating among his

friends?


For point of argument, let’s assume that our hypothesized project did exist c. 1589-94. Why would it have

been aborted rather than published? As always, one can suggest many reasons. But this author’s favorite theory is

that Munday’s virtual partnership with Charlewood was intended to produce said project in circa 1593-94. If so,

all the MSS were gathered and in Charlewood’s hands, and all that remained was for Munday’s team to block and

set the print, and deliver it to Charlewood for the above mentioned illegal but profitable curfew printing. And then

the unforeseen happened when Charlewood died in Feb 1592/3. His widow tried to keep the business going for

nearly a year, and then she wed James Roberts, who saved the business, and was to later be a major printer of

Shakespeare works, until he was bought out piece-by-piece by Wm. Jaggard in 1605-08. Jaggard’s last purchase

from Roberts in 1615 was transference of the franchise’s monopoly for printing playbills (first acquired by

Charlewood in 1587, the monopoly went through Roberts, Jaggard, on to the Cotes brothers, all the way to 1583,

and gave the franchise obvious advantages in getting prime opportunities to print plays as well).

In that interregnum after Charlewood’s death, what became of the hypothetical Shakespeare MSS and preset

type blocks? We can only guess based on when they emerged and under which stationers. But if the project

existed, its components appear to have been scattered to the winds circa 1593-94, emerging over time in scattered

projects. And what would our hypothesized project have contained? Likely it would have been much of the same

content, in much the same format, as was used for the material attributed to Shakespeare in the 1640 Poems,

which we will discuss in the third part to this article, “End Game, up to 1640”. Still, this author believes V&A and

RofL were originally also intended to be in it (in this article’s second part, “Middle Game, up to 1612”, we discuss

nine Ovid-based poems similar to V&A, and above we noted 10 authorship “unknown” TPP poems that were

redolent of V&A). Of course, in c. 1593 there were likely fewer than 154 of the sonnets, because Shakespeare did

not cease to write sonnets and other poetry after 1593. But we’ll see there may have been a good reason why

specifically 146 of the eventual 154 sonnets were likely in the project. And of course, much that Shakespeare

wrote before 1604 may have been lost forever. As noted in this author’s Oct. 2004 article, John Benson, the

publisher of 1640 Poems Written by Wil. Shake-speare, Gent., stated this in his letter to the Reader:

...some excellent and sweetely/composed Poems, of Master/William Shakespeare/Which in themselves ap-/peare of the same purity, the Authour him-/selfe then living avouched; they had not the/fortune by reason of their Infancie in his/death, to have the due accomodatio[n] of propor-/tionable glory, with the rest of his everliving/Workes, yet the lines of themselves will afford/you a more authentick approbation than my as-/surance any way can, to invite your allowance,///in your perusall you shall finde them Seren,/cleere and eligantly plaine, such gentle/ straines as shall recreate and not perplexe your/braine, no intricate or cloudy stuffe to puzzell/intellect, but perfect eloquence; such as will/raise your admiration to his praise... [Bold emphasis mine] (Hess, 2004, p. 1)

Considering that 1640 Poems contained 146 of Shakespeare’s notoriously mysterious sonnets, plus

enigmatic A Lover’s Complaint among other puzzling poetry, the “seren [serene], cleere, and eligantly plaine”

assertion is itself puzzling, to be sure. There seems no other way to interpret Benson’s affirmation of

Shakespeare’s “avouching” for the poems in the 1640 project than that they devolved from a project existing

prior to Shakespeare’s death (i.e., pre-1604) and that the 1640 format and content was largely what the Bard had

directly intended. And so, in the 1590s the meanings of most of the sonnets and other poems would have been less

unclear to the general public. What re-emerged in 1640 Poems apparently was a “snapshot” of much of the

content and format of that corpus which existed pre-1600!


Back to our dating of TPP 8to 1 into the early 1590s, let’s just say that William Jaggard could have printed

that project as an apprentice or journeyman under either Denham or Charlewood as far back as the late-1580s; or

under his brother John from 1594; but certainly not in his own printing shop, which he did not acquire until 1605.

Thus, Table 1 dated TPP 8to 1 to circa 1589-94, and if true it becomes more likely that Shakespeare wrote nearly

all of TPP; or at least more doubtful that Deloney, Barnfield, etc. wrote any of it!

Qualitatively, there are excellent poems in TPP, nearly all of them comparable to Shakespeare’s other poetry

(see Hess’ 1998 article for a proposed automated system capable of proving this point). So, orthodoxy has this

choice: a) accept that Shakespeare wrote all of TPP, except for any of the poems that can be definitively proved

otherwise; b) choose to believe that the other men had somehow obtained Shakespeare’s poetry for their

collections and did not give him credit as it was used; c) choose to believe that Shakespeare “stole” earlier works

by others, passing them off as his own; or d) choose to believe that Wm. Jaggard was a “pirate printer-publisher”

producing TPP without proper authorization, despite his illustrious career after 1611 as appointee of the Bishop

of London in the post of Official Printer to the City of London. This author has chosen to believe choices a) and b),

and hold that the burden of evidence is upon orthodox scholars to prove contrary authorship. Thus far, what

passes among them for “proof” hardly dignifies the concept.

One “proof” that they assert, and we’ll see that they believe they have the evidence to prove it, was that

Shakespeare was noted as living in the London area in 1609-12, when the 17th Earl of Oxford was only a memory.

We shall next study the matter, which is a critical problem for Oxfordians.

Middle Game, up to 1612

Our history of TPP reaches a pivotal point for the Oxfordian cause, because the 1612 3rd ed. of TPP presents

an opportunity for orthodox scholars to affirm that a printed note in another 1612 work claimed Shakespeare was

still available to be consulted by a poet-playwright in the London vicinity. Yet, the language was not clear,

allowing for multiple counter-interpretations. Here is a standard orthodox recitation of the facts:

[TPP] (1599) is an anthology of 20 poems that were attributed to “W. Shakespeare” on the title page, only five of which are accepted by present-day scholars as authentically Shakespearean. [TPP] was published by William Jaggard, later the publisher of Shakespeare’s First Folio. The first edition survives only in a single fragmentary copy; its date cannot be fixed with certainty since its title page is missing, though many scholars judge it likely to be from 1599, the year the second edition appeared with the attribution to Shakespeare. The title page of this second edition states that the book is to be sold by stationer William Leake; Leake had obtained the rights to Shakespeare’s Venus and Adonis in 1596 and published five octavo editions of that poem (the third edition through the eighth) in the 1599-1602 period. Jaggard issued an expanded edition of [TPP] in 1612, containing an additional nine poems—though all nine [sic, see note]

were by Thomas Heywood, from his Troia Britannica, which Jaggard had published in 1609. Heywood protested the piracy in his Apology for Actors (1612), writing that Shakespeare was “much offended” with Jaggard for making “so bold with his name”. Jaggard withdrew the attribution to Shakespeare from unsold copies of the 1612 edition. All the early editions of [TPP] are in octavo format. They were carelessly printed with many errors, in contrast to the carefully-printed early editions of Venus and Adonis and The Rape of Lucrece... (bold emphasis mine)5

Note that of the 9 additions to 1612 TPP 3rd ed., Heywood actually complained about only Paris to Helen

(in 1609 Troia Canto IX) and Helen to Paris (Troia Canto X), which were verse translations/paraphrases from

5 Retrieved from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Susanne_van_Soldt_Manuscript.


Ovid, together longer than all of TPP put together. Seven shorter additions to 1612 TPP were not mentioned by

Heywood (and were not in 1609 Troia), so may as well still be works of Shakespeare: A) Menelaus-1, B)

Menelaus-2, C) Cephalus & Procris, D) Mars & Venus, E) How the Mynotaure was Begot, F) The Laborinth of

Dedalaus, and G) Achilles in the Court of Lycomedes. Oddly, there appears to be no serious analysis of the

shorter 7 poems, despite the unrelated 1595 Cephalus & Procris by Thomas Edwards having been the earliest

poem to likely allude to Shakespeare as a nobleman (Stritmatter-2007, 1 & 18). All 9 were repeated in 1640

Poems by Will Shake-speare Gent., and this author has often suggested in Oxfordian circles that with 1593 V&A

they are bridges between Shakespeare and 1565-67 Ovid’s Metamorphosis as translated by Oxford’s uncle,

Arthur Golding, while living with Oxford in the mansion of William Cecil, future Lord Burghley.

Also note that the last sentence of the cited text (“They were carelessly printed...”) essentially says that

Shakespeare had authorized V&A and RofL, because they each bore his signed dedication to a patron, plus they

were relatively error-free—in contrast to unauthorized, error prone TPP (a verdict true for the 1609 Sonnets

project as well!). From the facts presented above, a careful reader should sense that Heywood’s 1612 complaint is

a highly complex issue, where orthodox scholars can get key parts wrong. Certainly Oxfordians can be perplexed

by “Heywood’s complaint”. Here is this author’s 2006 article’s discussion of this issue, which in turn cited from

Downs (1993, pp. 18-35):

So, did Heywood really know “Will Shake-speare” and who the real author of the works credited to that name was? Apparently he did, for as said in [Hess’ article’s] short bio for [Heywood], several of Heywood’s poems had been improperly put into the 1612 edition of Passionate Pilgrim and thereby credited to W.S., which Heywood in his 1612 Apology for Actors then protested. The error was likely made by the important W.S.-related printer Wm. Jaggard (printer of W.S.’s 1599 Passionate Pilgrim, 1619 “Pavier Quartos” of ten plays attributed to W.S., and of the 1623 F1 of W.S.’s authentic plays). The orthodox view is that Heywood’s 1612 complaint about Jaggard’s mischief ended with a statement that he was satisfied about W.S.’s honesty in the matter (Halliday, 356). Yet, curiously, Heywood further stated that “I must acknowledge my lines not worthy his patronage” (see Downs, 19). So, did Heywood claim “Shake-speare” was a patron?

Gerald Downs’ 1993 article thoroughly analyzed Heywood’s 1612 complaint, opining that Heywood’s “not worthy his patronage” had greater meaning (28), and that Heywood meant:

My lines do not deserve to be published in association with the name of William Shakespeare... I find it offensive that the originator of this corrupt volume, William Shakspere, took credit for the contents as if he were really the poet Shakespeare (34).

This neatly brushed aside Mr. Shakspere as author, even if he bore the name of and could be confused with “Shake-speare”. Though Mr. Shakspere was alive in 1612, he was a pale shade for the “real” W.S., who was likely dead if we read Heywood’s description very carefully. (bold emphasis mine) (Hess, 2006, pp. 21-27)

Katherine Chiljan paraphrased Heywood’s 1612 complaint as the following, transferring the “his patronage”

over to the Earl of Worcester (patron of Heywood’s 1609 Troia) instead of to Shakespeare. Her’s is an innovative

argument, borne up excellently by the evidence, saying Heyood meant this:

Jaggard published The Passionate Pilgrim in Shakespeare’s name without his knowledge, and I know that Shakespeare was much offended with Jaggard for presuming to make so bold with his name. Contrast this with another book published by Jaggard, my Troia Britanica: in the preface, I made bold with the Earl of Worcester’s name by dedicating the work to him. While I acknowledge the work was unworthy of the Earl of Worcester, the dedication was made with his knowledge, because Jaggard printed it under Worcester’s patronage. Jaggard is dishonest. (Chiljan, 2012, p. 77)


Chiljan’s equation of “his patronage” with the Earl of Worcester is all the more important, because from

circa 1598 to 1603 and beyond, the Oxford’s Men had “amalgamated” with Worcester’s Men and were acting at

the Blue Boar Inn in Aldgate, just north of the Tower and outside of the London City wall. It was a matter

discussed in a 1602 Privy Council order allowing the combined troupes to continue their trade despite attacks

from the Puritans of the London City Council. In 1603-12 the combination became “Queen Anne’s Men”. Even

better, Heywood was one of the combination’s actors and playwrights to 1604 (Halliday, 225-26, 535-36), which

meant he likely knew Oxford as one of the combination’s two patrons!

Downs and Chiljan have offered valuable insights, but this author confesses to not being altogether happy

with our Oxfordian interpretations, although they are better than orthodox views. To begin, the reader should

examine the full wording used by Heywood in the last 2 pages of his 1612 Apology (my underlines, bracketted

notes, and slight modernizations):

To my approued good Friend, Mr. Nicholas Okes.

THE infinite faults escaped in my booke of Britaines Troy, by the negligence of the Printer [A], as the misquotations, mistaking of sillables, misplacing halfe lines, coining of strange and never heard of words. These being without number, when I would have taken a particular account of the Errata, the Printer answered me, hee would not publish his owne disworkemanship, but rather let his owne fault lye upon the necke of the Author [B]: and being fearefull that others of his quality [C], had been of the same nature, and condition, and finding you [D] on the contrary, so carefull, and industrious, so serious and laborious to doe the Author all the rights of the presse, I could not choose but gratulate your honest indeavours with this short remembrance. Here likewise, I must necessarily insert [E] a manifest injury done me in that worke, [F] by taking the two Epistles of Paris to Helen, and Helen to Paris, and printing them in a lesse volume, under the name of another [G], which may put the world in opinion I might steale them from him; and hee to doe himselfe right, hath since published them in his owne name [H]: but as I must acknowledge my lines not worthy his patronage [I], under whom he hath publisht them, [J] so the Author [K] I know much offended with M. Iaggard (that altogether unknowne to him) presumed to make so bold with his name [L]. These, and the like dishonesties [M] I know you to bee cleere of; and I could wish but to bee the happy Author of so worthy a worke as I could willingly commit to your care and workmanship.

Yours ever, Thomas Heywood.

(From EEBO STC-13309-890_05, 1612 Apology for Actors, images 32 & 33 of 33)

Notes: A] Wm. Jaggard was “the Printer” of both 1609 Troia and 1612 TPP, although this author theorizes

that for Troia it may have been that N. Okes was among Jaggard’s assistants; note that Heywood explicitly took

credit for authorship “in my booke” of Troia, though not necessarily for the two Paris-Helen poems. B] Was “the

Author” Heywood or some other? C] Were the “others of his quality” printers; if so who? D] The “you” was Okes,

addressee of this complaint. E] Apparently, “necessarily insert” signaled an insertion into an earlier-prepared

complaint! F] Was “that work” 1609 Troia, 1612 TPP, or some other? G] “Under the name of another” appeared

to allude to Shakespeare or to Heywood himself, depending on whether or not Heywood actually wrote the two

Paris-Helen poems; note he did not explicitly claim authorship of the two poems, in contrast to the book they first

appeared in, 1609 Troia! [H] Was “his owne name” Shakespeare’s name or Jaggard’s? I] Was this Worcester’s

“patronage” or Shakespeare’s? Note that if Oxford was “the real Shakespeare”, then as co-patrons of the

amalgamated troupe of actors, both Oxford-Sh. and Worcester were patrons of Heywood, a playwright for the

troupe, in the late 1590s to 1604! J] Was “publisht them” alluding to Jaggard, Shakespeare, or Worcester, and

who specifically were “them?” K] Was “the Author” Shakespeare or some other? L] Was “his name”


Shakespeare’s name or Worcester’s (dedicatee of 1609 Troia), and precisely how was the name abused? Could it

be that “Shake-speare”, the true author, was abusing Mr. Shakspere’s name, or vice versa? M] “Dishonesties” of

Jaggard, or maybe a sly poke at Okes too? Could “dishonesties” have encompassed the use of a pseudonym in

this matter? To begin our discussion, that complaint was placed at the very end of 1612 Apology, as if a hastily inserted

afterthought. Note that N. Okes was printer of Heywood’s 1612 Apology and had been at the very beginning of

his career when the 1609 Troia Britanica printing project was done (Troia was entered in the Stationer’s Registry

[S.R.] Dec 5, 1608). By 1609, Jaggard’s purchase of nearly all of Roberts’ printing business had proven very

successful, running multiple presses, and so it is unlikely that he or Roberts would have personally set the type

and overseen the Troia project in much detail. So, it is worth considering that Okes or others in Okes’ later crew

may have been on the team assisting Jaggard-Roberts to print Troia. If so, Heywood’s 1612 address to his “good

Friend” would have been in part a chiding of Okes for his crew’s part in the 1609 Troia sloppy print job. Think

about it—it was most unlikely that Jaggard (by then one of England’s most busy printers) micromanaged the

typesetting done in 1609 (by Okes?). So, how much blame should Okes have borne, what opportunity did

Heywood have in 1609 to provide “fair copy” before the expense of printing had already been made, and was

Jaggard really wrong to have not wished to execute a lengthy belated errata (which, from Heywood’s description,

appears to have been pages long)? We’re not really told, only getting Heywood’s side of the ranting story. This

author’s hunch is that Okes’ agreement to insert this complaint into 1612 Apology was less intended to embarrass

Jaggard than it was Okes’ effort to mollify Heywood for Okes’ own 1609 errors—for which Heywood himself

may have been partly to blame! Or, from Hamlet’s Queen, both Heywood and Okes “doth protest too much,

methinks!”

Next, Heywood’s 1612 Apology (never entered into the S.R., and thus technically published illegally) is

thought to have been written in circa 1608—the book was in fact a plea for respect for public adult troupes, who

had lost income and preferment to boys troupes 1600-1608, after which the Second Blackfriars Theater was taken

over by the King’s Men, ending the chief venue for boys troupes (Halliday, 65-66, which notes investors in

Blackfriars enabling this transfer included Richard Burbage, Mr. Shakspere, Heminge, Condell, and others). Of

course, the boys’ later ascendency had begun 1583-84 when the 17th Oxford and his secretary John Lyly

consolidated the Chapel and Paules Boys, leased the First Blackfriars, and Lyly ran the operation as a venue for

featuring his Court Plays, before Blackfriars was closed until 1600-08. Indeed, 1612 Apology was a continuation

of an ongoing “Puritans vs. the Stage” controversy that had begun in Stephen Gosson’s 1579 School of Abuse (a

satirical attack on plays and actors), then responded to by Thomas Lodge’s quickly suppressed pamphlet, c. 1582

A Defence of Poetry, Music, and Stage-plays. Heywood’s early career had largely been a tribute to Shakespeare,

such as his 1608 play The Rape of Lucrece (entered into the S.R. June 3, 1608), which was obviously inspired by

1594 Lucrece (RofL). Similarly, Heywood is thought by many to be author of the anonymous 1605 play Edward

the fourth, which fits in between Shakespeare’s Henry VI Pt. 1 and Richard III, overlapping Henry VI 2 & 3.

Might Apology have been “originated” before 1599? If so, the complaint at the end of it may have originally been

intended to refer to a much earlier work than 1609 Trioia, but was hastily reworked in 1612 to insert the later

grudge against Jaggard.


As with other pillars of their dysfunctional mythology, such as 1592 Groatsworth of Wit (see Hess’ Sum.

2004 article), orthodox scholars pretend that everything in Heywood’s complaint was absolutely clear, with no

possible variant interpretations. But, from the many notes/queries above for Heywood’s complaint, it becomes

clear that he roved all over the place, using “the Author” at times for himself, and at times for (presumably)

Shakespeare; “his patronage” was ambiguous; and “the Printer” was jumbled as well. Chiljan’s epiphany about

the “patronage” allusion being to the Earl of Worcester clears up some of the confusion. But the greatest

confusion was delivered when Heywood expanded his complaint near its middle with the words, “I must

necessarily insert...” signaling that a more recent modification was inserted into an older complaint, one possibly

originated many years earlier. And it was in that later insert that Heywood discussed the two Paris-Helen poems,

which orthodox scholars believe first appeared in 1609 Troia. But, had the two poems really debuted in 1609?

Suppose that Paris to Helen and Helen to Paris had appeared earlier than in 1609 Troia, or that the core of

Heywood’s complaint is really that the two poems credited to his book were actually originally unpublished

works by Shakespeare, that Heywood feared being accused of plagiarizing from Shakespeare? That’s a paradigm

orthodox scholars seem to be oblivious to, and if you read the complaint with such a paradigm in mind, you’ll be

surprised that its text makes at least as much sense as the interpretations that the orthodox favor. But, even better,

let’s hypothesize that the two were (now non-extant) additions to the “by-1599” 1st ed. of TPP. After all, the sole

extant copy of TPP 1st ed. at the Folger (part of “the Burton Collection”) now has only 11 sheeves, and may have

originally had far more material than was in the 1599 2nd ed. It would certainly give Heywood’s complaint an

entirely different reading, and the reference to “the Author I know much offended with M. Iaggard” would date

back to “by 1599” (which Table 1 suggested should be “c.1589-94” based on dating rationale for each poem in it).

Changing the dating paradigm makes a great difference!

As a result of the original “by-1599” complaint, and implied pressure by Shakespeare (i.e., Oxford) on

Jaggard, the TPP 1st ed. would have been suppressed, thus explaining why there is only one partial copy left

today. Note that in the 1590s Jaggard was a newly-begun printer-publisher, in a much weaker position than he

would be in 1609-12. So, as we can see from extant copies, the two offending poems would have been stripped

out of the 1599 2nd ed.; but we also know that the poems would be added again in 1612. After all, from an

Oxfordian perspective, in 1609 and 1612, Shakespeare had been long dead, and Jaggard (by then the Official

Printer for London City) no longer needed to worry about pressure, least of all pressure from a mere

actor-poet-playwright like Heywood! How else would one explain Jaggard’s hubris in misusing Shakespeare’s

name, and hypothetically the Bard’s poetry as well?

But what about the assertion, “Jaggard withdrew the attribution to Shakespeare from unsold copies of the

1612 edition?” First of all, it could mean that Jaggard did begin using Shakespeare’s name on the title-page in

1612, but decided to remove it, thus leaving only “his” (i.e., Jaggard’s) name on the title-page (i.e., the sequence

taken for granted by orthodox scholars). The approach above can accept that, while the orthodox interpretation

has to admit confusion in what Heywood said on this point. Still, this author’s preferred interpretation, and

change of paradigm, is that orthodox scholars have it backwards. Let’s hypothesize that Jaggard began printing

the 1612 TPP 3rd ed. with no author’s name on the title-page, only Jaggard’s as printer (i.e., the reverse order

assumed by orthodox scholars). If so, after Heywood’s brusque reminder of the “by l599” TPP controversy,

Jaggard did bend a little by making sure that Shakespeare’s name was on the title-page for the rest of the printing.


And so that helps to explain the Heywood complaint puzzling line, “hee to doe himselfe right, hath since

published them in his owne name”, which seems to be a garbled misidentification with two separate men as “he”.

The “to doe himselfe right” = Jaggard realizing that the 1612 TPP would sell better with Shakespeare’s name on

it (after all, the Bard wasn’t a “publisher”, but Jaggard was, and the action of the sentence’s subject was “to

publish”). And yet, the “in his owne name” referred to Shakespeare. If you read the entire complaint again, you’ll

find several lines which whipsaw the reader with similar misidentifications, which seem to be further indication

that the complaint was written over several widely-spaced time periods, and then quickly and not very carefully

cut and pasted together into the 1612 complaint.

Although conjectural, this new slant on TPP ties up so many lose ends for trying to interpret Heywood’s

garbled 1612 complaint, while avoiding the 1st conundrum for Oxfordians of Shakespeare being alive in

1609-12, at that time taking offense with Jaggard. It also avoids the 2nd conundrum (for both Oxfordians and

the orthodox) of neither lowly Mr. Shakspere nor lowly Heywood having any real leverage over the by-1609

wildly successful and powerful Jaggard (the very linch-pin to the orthodox interpretation). And it avoids the 3rd

conundrum of Jaggard continuing to have legal ownership of TPP and its 1612 additions, such that in 1627 the

rights were passed on quite legally by his son’s estate, along with rights to most of the rest of Shakespeare’s

poetry and plays, to the Cotes brothers, later appearing in their 1640 Poems project. Obviously, some

accommodation had been reached early on which gave Jaggard those rights, or he wouldn’t have exercised them

in 1612 nor been able to pass them on. Let’s assume that Oxford-Shakespeare had forced Jaggard to remove the

additions for the 1599 TPP 2nd ed., private permission for which was granted on condition that the additions not

be used again during Oxford’s lifetime, thus explaining the apparent suppression of the “by-1599” TPP 1st ed.!

Why the condition? Perhaps Oxford had circulated the additions among his friends too widely—so that allowing

their publication under “Shakespeare” violated “the Stigma of Print” (Hess, 2011, pp. 23-26).

Rather than to blithely ignore the three conundrums about TPP and Heywood’s 1612 complaint, we need to

find ways to deal with them. And so a “by-1599” much earlier dating for all of the 11 poems that were (re)added

to TPP in 1612 helps in that regard. In particular, it allows for Oxford-Shakespeare to have authored all of the 11

poems prior to 1604, possibly back to the 1590s. But that would be at least back in the era of c.1598-1604, when

Oxford’s Men and Worcester’s Men were “amalgamated” and acting at the “Boar’s Head Inn” in Aldgate, with

actor-poet-playwright Thomas Heywood writing plays for them to perform!

Here’s a question that likely nobody has thought to ask: Why did Jaggard choose 1612 for printing the 3rd ed.

of TPP? Again the answer is conjectural, but evidence arose 11 years later with the “sacred” 1623 F1, as well as

some 28 years later when TPP next appeared, which we will discuss in our third part to this article.

End Game, up to 1640

Before we proceed to the next occurrence of TPP, we need to discuss a few oddities in the 1623 F1, which

was a remarkably large, complex, and variable project where no two extant copies are exactly the same. In it were

12 pages of dedicatory front material, including a Table of Contents and a List of Principle Actors, before the first

page of The Tempest was featured. A strange anomaly occurred in many of the F1 copies (e.g., Greenblatt, 1997,

pp. 3345-3357; Kokeritz, 1955, material between xxix & 1.2.6). In those copies, between the Contents Table and

the Actors List lay the last page of dedicatory poems. Even stranger, although all the dedicatory poems other than


the anomaly consistently avoided any hyphenation of the name “Shakespeare”, both the poems in the anomaly

page contained gratuitous hyphenations of “Shake-speare” (3 in the 1st poem, 2 in the 2nd). It was as if ALL

occurrences of the Bard’s name had been hyphenated until some late-minute decision to excise the naughty

hyphens, with that one page overlooked in the scramble to avoid what might have signaled a “made-up name” or

pseudonym!

Stranger yet, in the anomalous page both poets had older relatives who had reasonably been familiar with the

17th Earl of Oxford. The 8 lines 2nd poem (“To the memorie of M. W.Shake-speare”) was signed “I.M.”. The I.M.

poem occurred again in 1632 F2, alongside of an “I.M.S.” poem (“The friendly admirer of his Endowments,

I.M.S.”), which itself reoccurred in a 1645 anthology by the poet John Milton Jr., of 1667 Paradise Lost fame.

His father, John Milton Sr., had been a forester in Oxfordshire, a composer-poet himself, had moved to London in

1583 to become a Scrivener, and until 1620 had been a Trustee for Blackfriars Theater. Thus, note that 1583-84

Oxford had leased the Blackfriars Theater and turned its operation over to his secretary, John Lyly. But J.Milton

Jr. was an unpublished 15 year old in 1623, still barely heard from in 1632. Thus, this author believes “I.M.” was

really the senior Milton (or my second choice, John Marston [1575?-1634], who was linked even closer to

Oxford’s circle of poet-playwrights), and there is little doubt that “I.M.S.” was Milton Jr.’s identifier, both in

1632 and 45.

The 1st dedicatory poem (22 lines, “To The Memories of the deceased Authour Maister W. Shakespeare”) is

notable for containing the principle link between F1 and a “Stratford” location (“And Time dissolves thy

Stratford Moniment”). This didn’t necessarily point to the man of Stratford-upon-Avon, because “Stratford”

merely meant “river ford”, and there are multiples of that name. Indeed, Oxford’s 1592-1604 Hackney residence

was just three miles upstream on the River Bowe from the most prominent “Stratford” of all, the greater-London

suburb of “Stratford-on-Bowe”. An e-mail to this author from Jean Holmes in the U.K. said that her late husband

left a box of notes (now donated to Brunel University), among which was reference to a dove cote and other

buildings in Stratford-on-Bowe owned by Oxford (the town was on the Thames, en route to Oxford’s Essex

estates). We should look for more evidence of these matters.

The 1st poem was signed by “L. Digges”, or Leonard Digges II (1588-1635), the mathematician-astrologer,

who “may” have been at Oxford U. with a John Mabbe (the orthodox favorite for “I.M.”). Digges’ grandfather,

L.Digges I (c.1515-59) was an engineer credited with inventing a refracting telescope. He had the misfortune to

join the Wyatt Rebellion against “Bloody Mary” in 1554 and was heavily fined (where Wyatt’s father had been a

close friend to the uncle of the 17th Oxford, the poet Earl of Surrey). The connection of course was the father of

L.Digges II, Thomas Digges (c.1546-95), a friend of Dr. John Dee (who was an astrologer known to Oxford and

patronized by his Stanley in-laws). He was another scientist, whose works 1571 Pantometria, 1573 Aleu seu

scalae mathematica, 1576 A Perfit Description, and 1579 Stratioticos are said to have influenced the Bard’s

Hamlet and general knowledge of the sky (Usher, 2001, p. 29; Hotson, 1937, pp. 118-21).

The anomaly’s two poems (complete with the naughty hyphens) were included in the 1632 Second Folio

(F2), which was a generally faithful reproduction from F1, but there they were moved to before the Actors List,

and a number of new dedicatory poems were added between the List and the Contents Table.

Eight years later we reconnect with TPP in the 1640 Poems: Written by Wil. Shake-speare, Gent., which

included the entire contents of 1612 TPP 3rd ed., albeit broken up among a scattered arrangement of other poetry,


including 146 of the 154 poems that had been featured in 1609 Shake-speare’s Sonnets (followed by the falacious

“Never before Imprinted”, since TPP 1st & 2nd eds. had featured several of them). It is notable that Thomas

Heywood was still very much active in 1640, with three of his projects published in 1641, the year of his death: a)

The life of Merlin., b) Machiavel, as he lately appeared to his deare sons., and c) A preparative to study: or the

vertue of sack. So, it is reasonable to ask why Heywood failed to complain about his two poems from 1609 Troia

being included under the name of “Shake-speare” in 1640? Because, as Hess’ 2006 article noted (pp. 24-27),

Heywood did take a particular interest in “Will Shake-speare”, as listed twice in his 1635 The hierachie of the

blessed angells, depicting the name as among his catalog of 15 English authors who had been collaborators,

imitators, fronts, or even pseudonyms, often used by noble authors who hid their identities, as compared to his

catalog of 10 ancient Roman authors notable for similar suspicions!

And in Hess’ 2004 and 2007 articles, was discussed the possibility that an early project had existed for

publishing all of Shakespeare’s poetry, which was likely laid out closer to the “scattered” format of 1640 Poems

than to the formats of its predecessor poetry editions. Indeed, those articles noted that it may be possible the

number of 146 sonnets was not merely coincidence with the 146 sonnets included along with longer poems in the

1573 & 83 Diane Sonnets by Filipe Desportes, the French Poet Laureate from 1576 to 1604. We don’t have room

for discussing Poems or Diane further here, except that Hess’ forthcoming Volume III to The Dark Side of

Shakespeare will feature a translation of all 146 Diane Sonnets, which are not one-for-one matches for any of the

Bard’s sonnets, but rather the two cycles contain similar themes, characters, and poetic devices. So, it seems that

the progenitor for 1640 Poems was meant to be a patriotic English “one-upping” of the earlier Diane cycle—to

demonstrate that the best that the French could dish up would be bested by England’s greatest poet-playwright!

Continuing our discussion here, let’s note that 1640 Poems led off with the publisher, John Benson, giving a

two-page Letter to the Reader, followed immediately by a new three-page 68 lines dedicatory poem by Leonard

Digges II (“Upon Master William Shakespeare, the Deceased Author, and his POEMS”). And we should note

that by 1640, most of the dedication writers were dead (e.g., L.Digges II had died in 1635, and Jonson in 1637).

This author suggests that L.Digges II’s 1640 dedication and his 1623 dedication had at one time been a single

poem intended to be a dedication to a combined project of nearly all of Shakespeare’s plays and poems, and that

the two together actually date an approximate timeframe for that joint project. Here they are listed back-to-back:

TO THE MEMORIE/of the deceased Authour Maister/

W. SHAKESPEARE/

SHake-speare, at length thy pious fellowes give/ The world thy Workes: thy Workes, by which, out-live/ Thy Tombe, thy name must. when that stone is rent,/ And Time dissolves thy Stratford Moniment,/ Here we alive shall view thee still. This Booke,/ When Brasse and Marble fade, shall make thee looke/ Fresh to all Ages: when Posteritie/ Shall loath what’s new, thinke all is prodegie/ That is not Shake-speares; ev’ry Line, each Verse/ Here shall revive, redeeme thee from thy Herse./ Nor Fire, nor cankring Age, as Naso said,/ [A] Of his, thy wit-fraught Booke shall once invade./


Nor shall I e’re beleeve, or thinke thee dead/

(Though mist) untill our bankrout Stage be sped/ (Impossible) with some new straine t’ out-do/ Passions of Iuliet, and her Romeo;/ [B] [1597] Or till I heare a Scene more nobly take,/ Then when thy half-Sword parlying Romans spake./ Till these, till any of thy Volumes rest/ Shall with more fire, more feeling be exprest,/ Be sure, our Shake-speare, thou canst never dye/ But crown'd with Lawrell, live eternally./ [C] L. Digges.//

(From Sh’s 1623 F1, front material, position differs from copy to copy)

______________________________________

Upon Master William/ SHAKESPEARE, the/

Deceased Authour, and his/ POEMS.//

P Oets are borne not made, when I would prove/ [D] This truth, the glad rememberance I must love/ Of never dying Shakespeare, who alone,/ Is argument enough to make that one./ First, that he was a Poet none would doubt,/ That heard th’ applause of what he sees set out/ Imprinted; where thou hast (I will not say)/ Reader his Workes for to contrive a Play:/ To him twas none) the patterne of all wit,/ Art without Art unparaleld as yet./ Next Nature onely helpt him, for looke thorow/ This whole Booke, thou shalt find he doth not borrow,/ One phrase from Greekes, nor Latines imitate,/ [E] Nor once from vulgar Languages Translate,/ Nor Plagiari- like from others gleane,/ Nor begges he from each witty friend a Scene/ To peece his Acts with, all that he doth write,///

Is pure his owne, plot, language exquisite,/ But oh! what praise more powerfull can we give/ The dead, then that by him the Kings men live,/ His Players, which should they but have shar’d the Fate,/ All else expir’d within the short Termes date;/ How could the Globe have prospered, since through want/ [F] [by-1613] Of change, the Plaies and Poems had growne scant./ But happy Verse though shalt be sung, and heard,/ When hungry quills shall be such honour bard./ Then vanish upstart Writers to each Stage,/ You needy Poetasters of this Age,/ [G] [1602?] Where Shakespeare liv’d or spake, Vermine forbeare,/ Least with your froth you spot them, come not neere;/ But if you needs must write, if poverty/ So pinch, that otherwise you starve and die,/


On Gods name may the Bull or Cockpit have/ [H] You lame blancke Verse, to keepe you from the grave:/ [I] Or let ne Fortunes younger brethren see/ [J] What they can picke from your leane industry./ I doe not wonder when you offer at / Blacke-Friers, that you suffer: tis the fate/ [K] [by-1608] Of richer veines, prime judgements that have far’d/ The worse, with this deceased man compar’d./ So have I seene, when Cesar would appeare,/ An on the Stage at halfe-sword parley were,/ Brutus and Cassius: oh how the Audience,/ [L] [1602] Were ravish’d, with what wonder they went thence,/ When some new day they would not brooke a line,/ Of tedious (though well laboured) Catilines;/ [M] [1611] Sejanus too was irkesome, they prix’de more/ [N] [1605] Honest Iago, or the jealous Moore./ [O] [1605] And though the Fox and subtill Alchimist,/// [P] [1607

& 1610-12]

Long intermitted could not quite be mist,/ Though these have sham’d all the Ancients, and might raise,/ Their Authours merit with a crowne of Bayes./ [Q] Yet these sometimes, even at a friends desire/ Acted, have scarce defrai’d the Seacoale fire/ And doore-keepers: when let but Falstaffe come,/ Hall, Poines, the rest you scarce shall have a roome/ [R] [1596-1601] All is so pester’d: let but Beatrice/ And Benedicke be seene, loe in a trice/ [S] [1598-99] The Cockpit Galleries, Boxes, all are full/ To heare Malvoglio that crosse garter’d Gull./ T] [1601-02] Briefe, there is nothing in his wit fraught Booke,/ Whose sound we would not heare, on whose worth looke/ Like old coynd gold, whose lines in every page,/ Shall pass true currant to succeeding age./ But why doe I dead Sheakespeares praise recite,/ Some second Shakespeare must of Shakespeare write;/ For me tis needlesse, since an host of men,/ Will pay to clap his praise, to free my Pen.// [U] Leon. Digges.///

(From 1640 Poems by Will. Shake-speare, EEBO STC-22344-1156_05, images 3 & 4 of 97)

Notes to Leonard Digges II’s two Poems:

A] Naso = Roman poet Ovid, famously translated by Oxford’s uncle Arthur Golding 1565-67, while Oxford

and his uncle both lived in the mansion of Wm. Cecil, future Lord Burghley. There is some indication of 2 styles

used in the 1567 Metamorphosis translation, with some Oxfordians suggesting teenaged Oxford helped his uncle.

B] Sh’s Romeo and Juliet (R&J) orthodox dated 1594-96; its “bad” Q1 was 1597, & “good” Q2 1598 (this

was the first play ever to have Sh’s name on its title-page, all earlier ones were anonymous); it was noted in

Francis Meres’ Sept. 1598 Palladis Tamia list of 6 Sh. comedies and 6 Sh. tragedies. Hess’ Vol. II, pp. 298-99,

dated “origination” to 1578-83, with significant revisions 1591-95 and 1597.


C] Although one play (by-1597 R&J) was mentioned in L.Digges II’s dedication to the 1623 F1 set of plays,

there was a strangely greater emphasis on Sh’s poetry. E.g., Laurel = Poet Laureate, and the earlier allusion to

Naso/Ovid. Compare with Note U below.

D] L.Digges II’s “POets are borne not made” from 1640 Poems may be a commentary on Ben Jonson’s 1623

F1 two dedications, which had lines like “For though the Poets matter, Nature be,/His Art doth give the

fashion...” and “For a good Poet’s made, as well as borne”. This author suggests that L.D. II’s thought on Poets

was definite and terse, whereas Jonson’s was a less definite amplification of L.Digges II’s thought. In short, it

makes more sense than the other way around that Jonson’s 1623 commentary had seen, and reacted to, what later

became L.Digges II’s 1640 dedication!

E] The claim that Sh. hadn’t imitated or translated is of course only affectation, since scholars are agreed

that he imitated or adapted from many sources (as attested throughout Gillespie’s 2001 book), a good number of

which weren’t translated into English in the Bard’s lifetime. Orthodox scholars address this by positing that Sh.

somehow accessed obscure MSS of translations that didn’t get published until years later. We however have no

problem, since Oxford was adept in all the important languages (Latin, French, Italian, possibly some Greek,

Spanish, even Hebrew). This affectation (or gross deception?) is again amplified upon by Jonson’s F1 lines, such

as “And though thou hadst small Latine, and lesse Greeke”. Sh’s prolific original coining from Latin, French and

possibly other languages belies Jonson’s claim on its face.

F] The Globe Theater was built in 1599 from timbers carted down from the 1576-1598 “Theater”, burned in

1613 during a performance of Sh’s Henry VIII, was rebuilt in 1614, and continued to 1644. Mr. Shakspere of

Stratford had part ownership of the pre-1613 Globe; moreover, he had an actor’s share of the 1594-1603 Lord

Chamberlain’s Men and post-1603 King’s Men troupes. And an Actor’s List in Ben Jonson’s 1616 Folio of his

works included “William Shakespeare”, as did the List in the 1623 F1. These are the chief pillars for orthodox

beliefs that he was the source for the Sh. canon. Also, he had two nephews who were later actors in London, and

a brother who is buried in London, and he owned a share in the Blackfriars gatehouse (not to be confused with the

nearby theater). Other than these financial transactions and investments, little about Mr. Shakspere supported him

as other than a local Warwickshire money lender and real-estate investor (e.g., his Stratford properties, enclosing

of public lands, disinheritance of his younger daughter, and petty law suits).

G] Possibly a sly allusion to Jonson’s 1602 Poetaster play.

H] Allusions to two theaters, the Red Bull 1557-1625+ and Cockpit 1600-60+.

I] Christopher Marlowe (1564-May 30, 1593) was famous for use of his “mighty line” or Blank Verse, but

that innovation was introduced c. 1545 by Sir Th. Wyatt and the Earl of Surrey (Oxford’s poet uncle), the two

who also introduced the “Shakespearean Sonnet Form” (with rhyme scheme ababcdcdefefgg).

J] Possibly a sly allusion to the Fortune Theater 1600-21.

K] Blackfriars Theater 1576-84, was leased by Oxford 1583-84 for his secretary John Lyly to run, with the

combined boys’ troupes acting, and Lyly presumably then writing the 8 court plays published under his name in

the 1590s and later. Closed 1585-99, Blackfriars reopened 1600-08, where boy actors became so popular with the

public that some professionals (like Heywood, in his 1612 Apology) complained about it’s debasement of their

profession.


L] Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar had in it the characters “Cesar”, Cassius, and Brutus. It is orthodox dated

1599-1600; it was 1st published in 1623 F1; and it was not noted by Francis Meres in 1598. Hess’ Vol. II, pp.

283-84, dated “origination” to 1583-86, with significant revisions 1598-1602.

M] Allusion to Jonson’s 1611 Catiline play.

N] Allusion to Jonson’s 1605 Sejanus play.

O] Shakespeare’s Othello had in it the villain “Iago” and eponymous “the jealous Moor”. It is orthodox

dated 1604-05, was 1st published in the 1622 “good” Q1 (with many differences from its 1623 F1 version) but

performed at Court in 1604; and it was not noted by Francis Meres in 1598. Hess’ Vol. II, pp. 272-77, dated

“origination” to 1583-86, with significant revisions 1588-89 & 1597-1604.

P] Allusions to Jonson’s plays 1607 Volpone (which means “Fox”) and 1612 Alchemist (acted 1610).

Q] Authors wearing a “Crown of Bays” = Crown of Laurel = Poets Laureate, royal appointees. Edmund

Spenser held the Laureate c. 1593-99, Samuel Daniel 1599-1619, Ben Jonson 1619-37, Sir William Davenant

1638-68, followed by John Dryden. Given that Shakespeare’s 1593 V&A and 94 RofL were so wildly successful,

and that Daniel’s works to 1599 were comparatively derivative and less successful, we should wonder why

orthodox scholars haven’t seemed to be puzzled by the Bard not having been named Spenser’s successor. For

Oxfordians, the explanation is that her majesty knew that Shakespeare was merely a front for one of her nobles,

and the “stigma of print” prohibitted nobles to allow their poetry to be publicly associated with their names in

their lifetimes. Thus, the Laureate passed only from commoner to commoner.

R] Shakespeare’s Henry IV, Pts. 1 & 2, Henry V, and Merry Wives of Windsor all have Falstaff, the first 3

each have Prince Hal (or Halle = Henry V), and the first 2 have Poins (the popular characters of “Bardolph” and

“Pistol” were omitted here). The two H4’s were alluded to as one play by Meres in 1598, but not the other two.

The two H4’s are orthodox dated 1596-98, H5 to 1598-99, and MWW to 1597-1601. Hess’ Vol. II, pp. 298-99,

dated 1H4 “origination” to 1578-83, with revisions 1595-97; 2H4 to 1578-83, revs. 1595-96 & 1604; H5 to

1578-83, revs. 1586, 92, & 1599-1603; and MWW to 1576-77, revs. 1585, 93, & 97. There was an anonymous

“bad” quarto or source of the first 3 published in 1598, 1H4 “good” Q1 in 1598, good Q2 1599, 2H4 good Q1 in

1600, H5 bad Q1 in 1600, bad Q2 in 1602, MWW bad Q1 in 1602, 1H4 good Q3 in 1604, and other eds. (no

“good” H5 or MWW) to 1623 F1.

S] Shakespeare’s Much Ado had Beatrice and Benedick. It is orthodox dated 1598-99; it had a “good” Q1 in

1600, entered in the S.R. Aug. 23, the very first time Sh’s name was noted in the S.R.; and it was not noted by

Francis Meres in 1598. Hess’ Vol. II, pp. 243-45, dated “origination” to 1577-78, with significant revisions

1580-83, & 87.

T] Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night had the character Malvolio. It is orthodox dated 1601-02; it was 1st

published in the 1623 F1; and it was not noted by Francis Meres in 1598; it may have been performed at Court on

Jan. 6 1601, but first certain performance was in 1618. Hess’ Vol. II, pp. 225-27, dated “origination” to 1576-77,

with significant revisions 1580-87 & 1600.

U] Although there was mention of “Bay” = Laurel = Poet Laureate in L.Digges II’s dedication to 1640

Poems, there was a strangely greater, nearly total, emphasis on the plays of both Shakespeare and Ben Jonson.

Compare with Note C above.

-----


Therfore, what are we to make of our comparing, or joining together, the two Leonard Digges II poems from

1623 (& 32) with 1640? Here’s a summary:

(1) Aside from the hyphenated “Shake-speare” used three times in the 1623 poem, and the shortness of its

two stanzas, it seems to be a fairly good match for the 1640 poem, as if the two may have at one time been joined

together as one poem.

(2) The 1623 poem was in a book of Shakespeare’s plays, and yet its allusions were primarily to his poetry.

Meanwhile, the reverse was true for the 1640 poem, where Ben Jonson’s plays were given nearly equal billing to

Shakespeare’s, and next to no interest in Shakespeare’s poems. This is another argument that the two poems were

composed at the same time and intended to be united in a single grand project.

(3) The dates for the alluded-to Shakespeare plays were all in the 1590s or early 1600s. Thus, the

best-focused dates come from those for the Ben Jonson plays. And those were datable from the early 1600s to at

latest 1610-12.

(4) Since the orthodox claim is that Shakespeare wrote a few plays, mostly in collaboration, beyond 1612

(e.g., Cardenio, Henry VIII), and of course Ben Jonson’s career went on to very near his death in 1637, it made no

sense for Digges to stop allusions at 1610-12—UNLESS that was the timeframe in which or for which he

authored the two poems!

So, the question remains, why did Digges hypothetically write the two poems circa 1610-12? Obviously,

they had no purpose unless intended to be dedicatory introduction(s) to a grand project to publish nearly all of

Shakespeare’s available plays and poetry about that timeframe. But the project collapsed for some reason. And

yet its collapse freed Jaggard to publish the 1612 TPP 3rd ed. This answers the question posed at the end of Part

2 above: Jaggard’s 1612 TPP was a residue of a collapsed grand 1612 project for all of Shakespeare’s works.

What might have made the project collapse? Of course there are many possible answers, most of them

speculative, but here are a few suggestions:

(A) From an orthodox perspective, 1612 was when Mr. Shakspere was preparing to retire from the London

literary world and concentrate on petty suits, money lending, lands enclosure, disinheriting his daughter, and

other assorted trivia in Warwickshire. But this model fails when compared to Ben Jonson’s 1616 Folio of his own

works, after which he toiled until his death in 1637. Then an enhanced edition of his Folio was issued in 1640 by

the same stationer’s team who would do 1640 Poems.

(B) From an Oxfordian perspective, 1612 was when Oxford’s 2nd wife died, after which projects she had

been urging may have fallen by the way, and manuscripts she may have held made their “scape”. Also, this author

has argued that Oxford had a “literary mentor” in Thomas Sackville (after 1599 Lord Treasurer and 1603 Earl of

Dorset, see Hess, 2011). Sackville’s death in 1608 may have suddenly put considerable burden on his son Robert

and Oxford’s widow to see that Shakespeare works were saved and published. Then Robert suddenly died in Feb

1609, three months before the “pirated” May 1609 Sonnets was published, leaving the grand project adrift. The

key element of the “stigma of print”, as originally propounded in Castiglioni’s 1522 The Courtier, was that a

courtier’s poetry was not to be published in his/her lifetime, but collected and cherished by friends and relatives

(this was the model of “the poet knight” exemplified by Oxford’s poet uncle the Earl of Surrey and by Sir Philip

Sidney, both of who were dead for years before their works were published). But, what happened if the courtier

outlived those friends and relatives who had been entrusted with their works? That appears to have happened to


Sackville himself when he and his son died so closely together. And to some extent the death of Oxford’s 2nd

wife in 1612 may have undone his artistic legacy.

(C) From a patriotic perspective, Oxford’s “Fighting Veres” cousins, Francis and Horace Vere seem to have

welcomed English drama for entertaining their English anti-Spanish expeditionary forces 1585-1629. In 1604

Horace relieved the severely wounded Francis of overall command, and in August 1609 Horace succeeded

Francis in the post of Governor of the key town of Brill after Francis had signed the “Twelve Years Truce”, and

days later Francis passed away. It may be that Francis had been urging the grand project, but interest flagged as

other project complexities grew. Recall that John Aubrey would claim nearly a century later that the two Veres

had been in a private poets group with Oxford, Raleigh, Jonson, and others.

(D) From a publishers-printers perspective, a complexity might have been unavailability of Venus and Adonis,

Rape of Lucrece, and a good number of the plays, because they legally belonged to all the publishers or printers who

had published them earlier. In 1623 F1, 17 of the 36 plays had never before been published, but the others were the

property of a welter of printers and publishers, some of whom were “pirate publishers” to be sure, but others were

willing to sue to defend their rights. Several may have been “holding out” for more than the printer-publisher was

willing to pay (i.e., Jaggard, as Official Printer for London City). So, after a few years of trying, our grand project

was cancelled, and Jaggard cut his losses by printing only 1612 TPP 3rd ed. instead. He may well have been fed

up with all things Shakespearean just then, reflected in his alleged peevishness with Heywood.

(E) From a romantic perspective, it may be that the strongest reason for targeting 1612 was the sudden death

in November of that year (likely from Typhoid) of Henry, Prince of Wales (b. 1594).

Henry was the great hope of the Protestants, who saw in him a Protestant [modeled on] Henry V, who would lead troops to the continent on a crusade against Catholic Spain. Others thought that a fertile time in the arts would take place at the court of the future King Harry.6

It may be that Prince Henry backed the “patriotic perspective” (C above), and that his death, and the

mourning of same, killed the grand project!

(F) The curious placing of Jonson’s plays on a nearly equal footing with the Bard’s in the poem of 1640 may

mean that Jonson was prominent in our hypothetical grand project of 1610-12. So, it may be relevant that Prince

Henry was a patron of Jonson’s, even acting Jan 1611 in Jonson’s court masque Oberon, the Fairy Prince,

apparently influenced by the Bard’s “Oberon” in A Midsummer’s Night’s Dreame (orthodox 1595-96, noted by

Meres in 1598, “good” Q1 1600). With Henry’s death, Jonson may have lost interest in a grand folio project to

eulogize Shakespeare. And so, he turned his talents to producing a Folio collection of his own works, which was

published in 1616 (and 1640), only a few weeks after Mr. Shakspere died. But by the early 1620s Jonson would

again take a key role in the 1623 F1 project, witnessed by his two dedicatory poems, each full of strange

ambiguities which we’ve all puzzled over.

(G) Therefore, perhaps the strongest reason for a 1610-12 likely date for a hypothetical grand project of

nearly all of Shakespeare’s works was a combination of one or more of the above. In particular, all but A above

compliment each other, and even A fits in well enough if Mr. Shakspere was merely a “spokesman” or “front” for

a group behind the hypothetical grand project. When his usefulness was ended, he was free to return to

6 Retrieved from Luminarium Site www.luminarium.org/encyclopedia/princehenry.htm.


Warwickshire and the trivia that really suited his talents and interests best!

Conclusion

With this we conclude our survey of the “significant history” of The Passionate Pilgrim. Though it has

brought up more questions than it has answered, perhaps more conjecture than facts, it will have at least spurred

more interest in this subject by future scholars. Because, if we fail to meet TPP forthrightly and head-on, we may

fall victim to the rationalization that Heywood’s 1612 Apology for Actors seems to have testified that the Bard

was alive and well in 1609-1612 (an orthodox position which you’ve seen rejected here as neither clear or factual).

Heywood surely knew the 17th Earl of Oxford, since he acted and wrote for the Oxford’s-Worcester’s Men c.

1598-1604 (they became “Queen Anne’s Men” in 1604-12). And Heywood showed in his 1635 Hierachie of the

blessed angells that he knew “Will Shake-speare” for what he was—an imitator, a front, or even a pseudonym!

References

Adams, J. Q. (1939). The passionate pilgrim by William Shakespeare. NY: Scribner’s. Brazil, R. S. (2000). The true story of the Shakespeare publications. Retrieved from http://www.elizabethanauthors.com Brown, J. B. (1949). John Aubrey: Brief lives. London: Penguin. Chiljan, K. (2012). Reclaiming the passionate pilgrim for Shakespeare. The Oxfordian (TOX), 14, 74-81. Downs, G. E. (1993). A reconsideration of Heywood’s allusion to Shakespeare. Elizabethan Review, I(2), 18-35. Gillespie, S. (2001). Shakespeare’s books: A dictionary of Shakespeare’s sources. London: Continuum. Greenblatt, S. (1997). The Norton Shakespeare: Based on the Oxford edition (3rd ed.). NY: W.W. Norton & Co.. Halliday, F. E. (1952). A Shakespeare companion 1550-1950. London: Gerald Duckworth Co.. Hess, W. R. (1998). Hotwiring the bard into cyberspace. Retrieved from http://www.shakespeare-oxford.com/?p=929 Hess, W. R. (2003). Discussing Willobie His Avisa. Retrieved from http://home.earthlink.net/~beornshall/index.html/id27.html Hess, W. R. (2003). The dark side of Shakespeare. Lincoln, NE: Writers Club Press. Hess, W. R. (2004). Update on Greene’s groats-worth. Retrieved from

http://shakespeare-oxford.com/wp-content/Oxfordian/SOSNL_2004_3.pdf Hess, W. R. (2004). When Shakespeare “originated” his sonnets, did they have a “Euphues” meaning?”. Retrieved from

http://home.earthlink.net/~beornshall/index.html/id21.html Hess, W. R. (2006). Did Thomas Heywood List “Will Shake-Speare” as an imitator or front?. Shakespeare Matters, 6(2), 21-27. Hess, W. R. (2007). Searching under the Lamp-posts for dating Sh’s sonnets. Shakespeare Oxford Society Newsletter, 43(2), 14-20. Hess, W. R. (2011). Did Thomas Sackville influence Shake-speare’s sonnets?. DeVere Society Newsletter, 18(1), 21-30. Heywood, T. (1612). An apology for actors. London: Sage. Hotson, L. (1937). I. William Shakespeare: Do appoint Thomas Russel, Esquire... Freeport, NY: Books for Libraries Press. Kokeritz, H., & Prouty, C. T. (1955). Mr. William Shakespeares comedies, histories, & tragedies: A facsimile edition. Oxford:

Oxford U. Press. Lodge, T. (1582). A defence of poetry, music, and stage-plays. London: The Shakespeare Soc.. Miller, R., & Looney, J. T. (1920). Shakespeare identified in Edward de Vere, the 17th Earl of Oxford (3rd ed.). Jennings, LA:

Minos Publ. Peck, D. C. (1978). Raleigh, Sidney, Oxford, & the Catholics, 1579. Notes and Queries, 25, 427-31. Plomer, H. R., Aldis, H. G., Bushnell, G. H., McC. Dix, E. R., Esdaile, A. E., & McKerrow, R. B. (1910). Dictionaries of the

printers and booksellers who where at work in England, Scotland and Ireland 1557-1775. Ilkley, Yorkshire: Grove Press. Roe, J. (1991). Willobie his avisa and the passionate pilgrim, precedence, parody, and development. Retrieved from

http://repository.kulib.kyoto-u.ac.jp/dspace/bitstream/2433/135248/1/ebk00061_035.pdf Roe, J. (1992). The poems: Venus and Adonis, The Rape of Lucrece, The phoenix and the turtle, the passionate pilgrim. Cambridge:

Cambridge U. Press. Rollins, H. E. (1938). A new variorum edition of Shakespeare: The poems (Vol. 22). Philadelphia: Lippincott. Stritmatter, R. (2007). Tilting under frieries... Shakespeare Matters, 6(2), 1-18. Usher, P. (2001). Advances in the Hamlet cosmic allegory. The Oxfordian, IV, 25-49.


Marie Corelli’s The Secret Power in Bengali Rendering:

Translation, Indianisation and Cultural Criss-crossing

Pritha Kundu

Independent researcher, West Bengal, India

Since the 1980s and 1980s, a new trend in the discipline of Translation Studies has emerged beyond the boundaries

of Europe. Scholars from post-colonial nations like Canada, India, China, Africa, and Latin America have argued

that translation was used in the past as a means of depriving the colonised people of their voice. In the colonial

structure, the hegemonic culture used to dominate, making the others subservient. Translation in the colonial period

reflected that hierarchy. In this light, decades after the independence of India, translation from a reverse direction,

that is, rendering popular English texts in minority languages, may be seen as a process of “writing back”. Even if

the original text concerned is not a “political” writing, and the translation is apparently meant for “safer-zones”

such as “young students’ literature”, a tendency of claiming cultural equality, overlapping the translator’s own

cultural and literary heritage with the original author’s, can be discovered. This paper attempts to focus on these

issues in a particular text—the 1995 Bengali translation of Marie Corelli’s 1921 science-fiction, The Secret Power.

The purpose of this paper is to explore how Sudhindranath Raha has intermingled Biblical references and Western

contexts with allusions to Indian culture and Sanskrit literature, thereby claiming a space for mutual understanding

and respect between two cultures.

Keywords: translation, The Secret Power, cultural criss-crossing

Introduction

Translation in a post-colonial context has now been viewed as a version of “writing back”, a process of

claiming a dialogic interaction between the master or original culture and its language, and the once-dominated

culture which has now become “free”. In case of critical and canonical texts, the process is often conscious,

whereas translating a “safe” text—some popular fiction, fantasy or children’s text may not be consciously so.

However, the process can be seen at work, at least in a subtle and semiconscious way. For the discussion of this

phenomenon, this paper has chosen a science-fiction or fantasy-novel by Marie Corelli, a popular, best-selling

British author who was active throughout the late 19th and early 20th century.

Marie Corelli in Bengali Translation

A number of Marie Corelli’s novels have been translated into several Indian languages including Bengali.

Bengali translations of Corelli, in general, show considerable variety of approach and tone. Bhuban Candra

Pritha Kundu, independent researcher, West Bengal, India.

DAVID PUBLISHING

D

MARIE CORELLI’S THE SECRET POWER IN BENGALI RENDERING 942

Mukhopādhyāy, in his enthusiasm to expose the material and spiritual corruption within the society of the British

“masters” translated The Sorrows of the Satan (1895), from the point of view of a well informed “subject”,

representing the colonial Bengal. Kumāreś Ghose, on the other hand, criticized the post-colonial trend of continuing

to imitate British culture and admonished his intend readership that if Indian women are to imitate Western women,

they should follow an “Angel in the House” like “Thelma”. Mukhopādhyāy’s translation of The Sorrows of the

Satan came in 1903, and Ghose’s translation of Thelma was published in the 1960s. The ideological intensions of

these translations are not difficult to understand, given the colonial and post-colonial contents of their

publications. The Bengali translation of Corelli’s post-World War-I novel, The Secret Power (1921), however,

comes much latter, and avoids the pressure of the Anglo-Oriental tension between the “Self” and the “Other”.

Significantly, The Secret Power itself is more cosmopolitan in nature than the other Corelli-novels. It is preoccupied

with the post-war anxiety for the future of the human race in general, not any nation in particular. Rāhā elaborates

the anti-war pronouncements in Coerlli’s novel. Corelli wrote, with the experience of the First World War fresh

in her mind, whereas Rāhā’s treatment of the anti-war section clearly shows a man writing with a post-World

War-II sensibility, for a younger generation. Unlike Mukhopādhyāy’s or Ghose’s work, his translation was meant

for children, with an appreciative stamp from the educational board of the government of West Bengal.

Translating for Children: Tempering the Erotico-Psychological

The translation shows Rāhā’s capability of compression, which deserves critical attention. In compressing,

however, he omits those portions in the original, which attempt to render, psycho-analytically, Roger Seaton’s

love-and-hate relationship with Morgana and Manella. The account of Seaton’s relationship with Morgana, in

New York society, is just summed up by Rāhā. He seems to avoid the psychological and erotic complexities,

considering them unsuitable for the school-students. These omissions and compressions lessen the use of

flashback technique which is essential to the plot-construction of the original.

Corelli, however, “progressive” in her view of “the woman of the future” like Morgana or Diana (in The

Young Diana, 1918), cannot help adhering to the male discourse of stereotyping female vanity of sex-jealousy. In

The Secret Power, when Morgana hears Manella speak of her “man in the mountain”, she gives a quaint smile

and tells her playfully—“you are an odd girl, but you are quite beautiful… Tell the man on the mountain that I

said so” (Corelli, 1921, p. 30)1.

In Corelli, Morgana does not tell Manella that she has already gone to visit Seaton. When Manella learns it

from Seaton, she is hurt. But in the translation, Morgana tells Manella all about Seaton, and requests her to take

care of him, sensing that she is devoted to Seaton. The translation puts in Morgana’s mouth such words as:

ye kono din, ye kono muhūrte o mārā porte pāre, āgun niye khælā korche o, nijei pure morbe se āgune”—ei kathāi

spasta bhāsāy boleche Margānā. nā Margānā ār gopan kareni kichui. Maenelāke sab khule boleche. (Rāhā, 1995, p. 25)

[Paraphrase: He will die any day, at any moment. He is playing with fire, and he will be consumed by that very fire” – this is what Morgana has said clearly. No, she has not concealed anything, she has been open to Manella]2.

The way Rāhā changes Corelli’s account of the first encounter between Morgana and Manella, seems to be 1 Marie Corelli, The Secret Power, (Methuen, London, 1921), 30. The version used here is the e-book downloaded from http://www.gutenberg.org/files/3831/3831-h/3831-h.htm. 2 Paraphrase from Sudhīndranāth Rāhā (trans.), The Secret Power in Bengali, (Kolkata, Deb Sāhitya Kutīr, Rpt. 1995) 25. All paraphrases from the Bengali version to English again, are mine.


an attempt to Indianize the situation, without changing the Western names. The very idea of sisterly-bonding,

overcoming the initial and instinctive jealousy, by virtue of the noble nature of two women, is an idealistic

Indian-Bengali concept—from the popular Bengali versions of The Mahābhārata portraying Droupadī and

Subhadrā (both are wives to Arjuna), to Āshāpurnā Devī’s family-novel showing “Bakul” and “Arundār Bou”

(the wife of Bakul’s cousin Arun, whom she loved) in Bakul-kathā, there is a tradition of showing two women

characters somehow forming a “sisterly” bond, despite their clashing interests in love or right. Rāhā’s

“Indianization” of the Manella-Morgana bond, at times, aims at original activity. Susan Bassnett-McGuire, in

Translation Studies, relates the translator’s creative originality to the Platonic notion in divine inspiration:

The Platonic doctrine of the divine inspiration of poetry clearly had repercussions for the translator, in that it was deemed possible for the “spirit” or “tone” of the original to be recreated in another cultural context. The translator, therefore, is seeking to bring about a “transmigration” of the original text, which he approaches on both a technical and metaphysical level, as a skilled equal with duties and responsibilities both to the original author and the audience. (Bassnett-McGuire, 2002, p. 62)

In Rāhā’s translation, the characters of both Morgana and Manella seem to be simplified, which, in turn,

become all the more thought-provoking for the reader who has read the original text. For instance, one may cite a

section from the translation, where Manella hears Seaton recalling his embarrassment in Morgana’s high society

(in which he felt like “fish out of water”), and she retorts, almost “recommending” Morgana’s character:

dāŋāy yini tulechilen, tār kāche theke geleo manda thākte nā tumi. Sonāli culer uni lok khārāp nan, kataksan ār ālāp

hoyechila, tār-i modhye āmāke āpan kore phelechilen. (Rāhā, 1995, p. 49)

[Paraphrase: It would not have been bad for you if you remained with her who took you out of water. That lady with golden hair is not a bad person. We had a very brief encounter, but how she had taken me into her intimacy].

This is not there in Corelli’s text. But, this forces the reader back to a re-reading of the original, with a new

interest, in order to explore whether, or to what extent, Corelli’s Morgana is capable of taking anybody into

confidence and intimacy (āpan kore naeoyā) at all. She has almost loved Roger Seaton, and now, being

“deserted” by him she seeks to continue an intellectual war with him, and seems to pity the intellectually inferior

woman who loves him now. She can not be intimate with Rivardi who loves and adores her. It is only with father

Aloysius, that she can share some feelings and problems, in spiritual terms. But this “intimacy”, too, has not come

easily. At first, she viewed Aloysius simply as a good and wise priest.

The change of Morgana’s attitude towards Don Aloysius, is rendered by Corelli by means of subtle gestures

of reverence coupled with love and desire, when Morgana comes to visit him, after her adventure. Rāhā’s

translation carefully avoids the love-interest by showing their feelings to each other as spiritual, much like that

between a philosopher-teacher and a disciple according to the Hindu-Indian culture. In Corelli, the process of

establishing the mystic relationship between Aloysius and the inhabitants of the “Golden City”, is one of the

gradual unveiling—yet not very sure. In Raha’s translation, the process is direct, swift, and climactic. In his

treatment Morgana does not have a vision of the angelic inhabitant of the “Golden City” through the light-ray.

The voice, rather, tells her, to her utter astonishment: “… tomrā yāke fādār aelosiās bole jāna, āmār ākriti thik

tā̃r-i mato” [I look exactly like the person you know as Father Aloysius] (Rāhā, 1995, p. 81). This single sentence,

which is nowhere in the original, immediately creates an epiphanic charm, which is different from the effect of


the half-certain, half-sustained mystery of the original. This is where the translator becomes an interpreter: he

interprets Don Aloysius in a new light. Here translation tends to be a certain kind of intensive reading of the

original text, which, finally becomes an “interpretative translation”, as John Hollander discusses in his article

Visions, Interpretations and Performances. A close reading of the text thus leads to an intra-lingual

translation/interpretation from graphic sign to mind.

Attitude Towards Humanity

Corelli seems to share with her contemporary British writers the post-war concept of the “broken man”. Men

go to war, engage themselves in destruction, and if they survive, they return with a physical or mental or moral

handicap. Corelli also implies that the hope of humanity, if any, lies with creative woman. But she does not seem

to be able to make up her mind in determining the “positive” nature of women as something certain. Morgana, at

first reflects on the nature of Manella, with a sort of pitiful contempt:

[addressing Seaton] She is just the kind of thing you want to fetch wood, draw water, cook food, bear children… You will be living the baboon-life and your brain will grow thicker and harder as you grow older… (Corelli, 1921, p. 30)

Seaton’s downfall, however, is caused not by Manella’s primitive influence, but by his own “hubris”.

Manella, instead, towards the end of the novel, becomes the embodiment of a faint hope for humanity (if any),

exercised through her self-sacrificing wife-and-motherhood—to nurse the “broken man” back to life. At the end,

Corelli makes Morgana recognize the positive aspect in Manella—“She will surround him with the constant

influence of a perfectly devoted love. Dare we say there shall be no healing power in such an influence?” (Corelli,

1921, p. 183).

Changes in Character-Depiction

The reader, like the changed Morgana, can hope for the best, but the question remains—whether Manella

ultimately emerges as an eugenic woman capable of mothering a better race, or whether she represents regression

into a primitive and innocent state—the only consolation for a world under constant threat of nuclear war and

existential crisis. Rāhā’s Bengali translation ignores these evolutionary issues and softens the tension between

Morgana and Manella by drawing them into a bond of mutual understanding.

Marie Corelli’s attempt to idealize Morgana is also ambiguous. She is talented, inventive, and courageous.

But her power and resourcefulness come largely from her enormous wealth. In the first five chapters, she appears

to be flirtatious, the rich friends in New York talk of her as a woman of strange whims. Rāhā makes her a

“feminist” champion of her sex, carefully translating her tribute to Madame Curie, and her retorts at male

gallantry. But in Corelli, she is not a “feminist” answer to patriarchy in a broader sense, for she has little regard

for other women of “inferior” intellect, be it Manella, Mrs. Boyd or Lady Kingswood. At times, she shows utter

indifference to humanity or human feelings, which suits her temper as a “fey”-woman. “There is no such thing as

love”, she says and the translator, in his role as an interpretator promptly brings in the comparison—“e ki sītaner

kathār pratidhvani?” [“Is it an echo of Seaton’s voice?”] (Rāhā, 1995, p. 37). Again, her view of human beings as

“microbes” and her words, resemble Seaton’s—“I shall not aid the continuation of the race… It is too stupid and

too miserable to merit continuance” (Rāhā, 1995, p. 37). Morgana too has a destructive power which is

sublimated into a creative force comes out when she is angry with Rivardi and Gaspard—“You refused to obey


me!… Then… I destroy this airship and ourselves in less than two minutes!” (Corelli, 1921, p. 162)

In Corelli, it is the influence of Don Aloysius that ultimately guides Morgana’s “positive” potential. But her

“White Eagle” cannot last for the sake of future humanity. It rescues Manella and Seaton—the only act by which

it proves its positive power. Corelli intends her readers to believe that Morgana finally succeeds in her spiritual

quest. But before she can enter the “Golden City”, her scientific achievement crashes in the desert and ceases to

be a symbol of “science as a bliss”. Given Morgana’s declaration of the “White Eagle” as her “baby”, one may

also interpret its destruction as a failure of her “mothering” capability. She can attain “true happiness” for herself,

but she is incapable of bearing a greater responsibility for the suffering humanity. Rāhā’s translation gives an

interesting twist to this problem at the ending. He does not show the airship destroyed; it simply disappears. And

he emphasizes the role of the wise Don Aloysius and the questioning Rivardi, who continue to live and struggle

for humanity:

“āmār āhvān āste deri āche bodh hay--” bollen ælosiās-- “āmār kāj śes hayni”--

Aelosiyās mājhe mājhe tār (Margānā) kathā śunte pācchen śabdaraśmite. “se soubhāgya āmār-o kæno habenā fādār?” Ribhārdi nitya kākuti kare ælosiyāser kācche. (Rāhā, 1995, p. 91)

[“Perhaps my call is yet to come--” said Aloysius-- “my work is not finished--” Aloysius hears her voice through sound-ray, at times. “Why may I not have that pleasure, Father?”-- Rivardi pleads to him everyday].

Thus one may see how the translator endows the “minor” or supporting characters with a new dimension at

the end.

Now one may turn to Roger Seaton, an equally complex character like Morgana, and further problematized

by the translator’s approach. Robyn Hallim’s unpublished thesis, Marie Corelli: Science, Society and the

Best-Seller tells us that Seaton is a “Faustus”-figure “who has opportunities to choose between good and evil”

(Hallim, 2002, p. 234). Hallim’s view here seems partially correct: of course, Seaton shares some traits with

Faustus but he does not actually choose between good and evil; rather he is wrong in his notion of “good”. He is

a misguided idealist who justifiably detests the evil of war, but his way of annihilating “evil” leads him to further

destruction. He seems to be a follower of the Old Testament-God, ever-ready to punish the wrongdoers; and

Corelli does not seem to condemn him altogether. There are several instances where she portrays Seaton in an

admirable light. Here one may cite two of them. The first “positive” picture of Seaton comes, when he, after

working for six or seven hours at a stretch, takes a short nap—

His face in repose was a remarkably handsome one—a little hard in the outline, but strong, nobly featured an expressive of power—an ambitious sculptor would have rejoiced in him as a model for Achilles… (Corelli, 1921, p. 69)

The second instance is even more striking. Seaton lashes out at the mean notions of commercial profit

lurking behind any great war; he warns the war-mongering bourgeoisie with an air of sermonizing like a Judaic

prophet—

…let them take heed how they touch money coined in human blood. I—one man only—but an instrument of the Supreme Intelligence—I say and swear there shall be no more wars! (Corelli, 1921, p. 83)

Seaton utters these words with an attitude that inspires awe in the listener, and Mr. Gwent, looking at him

recalls the fifth verse in the Third Psalm:


I laid me down and slept; I awaked for the Lord sustained me. I will not be afraid of ten thousands of people that had set themselves against me round about. (The Book of Psalms, 3:5-6).

It is difficult to be sure whether Corelli inserts the Psalm to describe a “negative” force with deliberate irony,

or whether she does it to show, seriously, how an “old” faith itself turns obsolete, and wrong, in a new world. Sam

Gwent’s argument with Seaton, at one point, sounds like a parody of Abraham’s bargain with God on the issue of

destroying Sodom and Gomorah:

Wilt thou also destroy the righteous with the wicked? Peradventure there be fifty righteous within… (Genesis, 18:23-24).

The irony is that God can spare if He wills, but a man cannot, even if he claims divine authority behind his

work. Rāhā has not translated this section line by line, but he is certainly aware of the problem as he shows in his

own way.

This may become clear by making a comparison between what Corelli’s Seaton says and what Rāhā makes

out of it. Corelli’s Seaton, as we have seen swears in front of Gwent that “there shall be no more wars”. In Rāhā’s

translation, Seaton does not swear in front of any human being. But the importance of swearing an oath, in the

name of the “Supreme Intelligence” is conveyed much earlier in the translation, not through the voice of an

enraged Seaton, but through the narratorial comment, which lends to an extra edge of gravity and sensibility. The

translator also elaborates Seaton’s personal experience of war (which is merely hinted at by Marie Corelli), so

that his motive behind his research becomes all the more appealing:

Rakter nadī boiche māthe prāntare upatyakāy, mājhe mājhe gādā hoye pode āche hatāhata mānuser deha, tībra tīksna

ārtanād uthche dhõyāte ākāś bidīrna kore, esab tār pratyaksa abhijñatār jinis… se-anubhūtir jvālā aekhano tāke unmād

kore tole… sedine bhagabān sāksī kore ye pratijñā se niyechila, bholeni tār kathāo. Sei pratijñā pūraner janyai tār ei

jugabyāpī bijñān sādhanā. śaktimade matta ei ye jātiguli prthibīr, eder śaktir ahaŋkār se cūrna korbe. (Rāhā, 1995, p. 11)

[Rivers of blood are flowing across the fields and valleys, bodies—dead and injured are heaped at places, a shrill cry of pain is about to rend the sky, all these are his direct experience. The trauma of that feeling maddens him still… he has not forgotten the oath he took in the name of God. This epochal science-asceticism (bijñān sādhanā) of his is meant to keep that very oath. These power-mongering races of this earth, he will crash their pride].

This vivid picture is deliberately added by the translator—artist, and this reflects his sympathy for Seaton as

a tragic character. He, a single man claims divine approval in the manner of an Old Testament prophet, without

realising that civilization has come a long way from the time when one godlike hero could be the master and

guide to all other worldly creatures.

Seaton is cynical, proud and misogynistic—this is clear from both Corelli’s text and the translation. Corelli,

however, does not fail to describe Seaton’s “tender” aspects too. He calls Manella “dear” (“laksmīt”) in

translation, with an added sense of affection and sympathy in colloquial Bengali) and “child” (ætatukun

bāccā—in translation). In Corelli, he caresses and kisses her three times, as a brother or father might have done to

her (Corelli, 1921, pp. 6, 71, 118). The translation, in his work meant for school-students, cannot possibly

reproduce these actions of physical intimacy, just as he omits that section where Seaton grabs Morgana’s arms

and pulls her up, from a half-lying posture in front of his cottage (Corelli, 1921, p. 11). Such omissions reduce the

possibility of looking into the character of Seaton, apparently cold and rough, but occasionally capable of


expressing his inner passion—through physical force physical caress. The translator is aware of this problem, and

so he tries to convey Seaton’s inner dilemma in terms of thoughts, as he thinks of Morgana—“se to icche korlei

margānā rayāler pānigrahan-i korte pāre” [Seaton could have married Morgana Royal if he wished]. Again Rāhā

makes him feel for Manella:

Meyetār janya duhkha hay Sītaner. kasta āche barāte or. kintu Sītan tār kī korte pāre? Kichui nā!… karār jinis thākte

pārto æktāi śudhu nijer sādhanā bisarjan diye gerasta-jībaner nonrāmite dūbe jāoyā. (Rāhā, 1995, p. 12)

[Seaton feels sorry for the girl. She is fated to be miserable. But what can Seaton do for that? Nothing at all! Only one thing was to do, to renounce his own ascetic experiment and get doomed to a petty domestic life].

From Mad Scientist to “Arrogant Hermit”: Remoulding the Hero’s Character

Again and again, to emphasise Seaton’s devotion to his work, Rāhā uses such terms as “tapasyā” and

“sādhanā” which, to any Indian reader, would suggest a hermit-like nature (Interestingly, in Hindu mythology,

powerful hermits are often excessively arrogant). The idea reaches its climax, when Manella stealthily proceeds

to Seaton’s hut, so that he cannot be conscious of her presence: “dekhlei to Sītan kukur-tārā korbe tāke—‘dūr ha

sarbanāśī! āmār tapobhnga korte esechis! dūr ha. tā naile eksuni bhasma kore felbo’”(Rāhā, 1995, p. 48) [As soon

as seeing her, Seaton will chase her away like a dog—“… Get away, wench! What, you have come to spoil my

meditation! Go away, or I will reduce you to ashes]. Such words as “tapobhanga” and “bhasma” immediately

elevate Seaton to a semi-divine level. Moreover, it is very likely that at this point, any Indian reader would recall

the myth of the burning of “Madana” (god of Eros in Indian mythology), by the enraged Lord Siva, a divine

meditation-practitioner and one of the Supreme Trinity in the Hindu pantheon. This section is a unique

conception on the part of the translator. No western writer could have naturally conceived of such a suggestive

expression.

Indianisation Through Cultural Allusions

There are other instances when Sudhīndranāth wittingly or unwittingly, engages himself in a process of

cultural transaction. Corelli has tried to give an impression of heroic illusion, inviting comparison between

Seaton and Achilles or some Old Testament-hero. Rāhā’s allusion to Siva, then appears to be an attempt to create

an Indian equivalent to that. Interestingly again, Rāhā’s translation of that section where Morgana goes to meet

Seaton under the romantic moon, is full of echoes from Kālidāsa’s Kumārasambhavam:

candran gatā padmagunān na bhuŋkte padmāśritā cāndramasīmabhikhyām. umāmukhantu pratipadya lolā

dvisamśrayām prītimavāpa Laksmīh. (Kālidāsa, 1978, p. 1/43)

[The goddess Laksmī could not dwell in both the moon and the lotus. Now, by dwelling in Umā’s face, she enjoys both her abodes at the same time]3.

antaścarānām marutām nirodhān-

nivāta-niskampamiva pradīpam. (Kālidāsa, 1978, p. 3/48)

[The air was internalized, and the figure was like an unflickering flame, affected by no air].

3 All paraphrases from the Sanskrit text, here and afterwards, are mine.


Now we may turn to Rāhā’s translation, which describes Morgana’s charms, in terms clearly reminiscent of

certain phrases used in the ślokas quoted above.

śubhra jyotsnāy snāta suśubhra mūrtikhāni,… Bātāstā pore giyeche hathāt. mūrtitir aŋger basane kā̃puni nei

bindumātra. (Rāhā, 1995, p. 13)

[the figure bathed in the white moonlight… suddenly the wind has been still. The attire on the body of the figure is not flowing a bit].

This is an elaborate sense-echo of Kālidāsa’s “nirodhānnivāta-niskampa” (and Rāhā describes Morgana

elsewhere as “pāvakaśikhā” cf “pradīpam”). And the later part of the description “… thik jæna ardhavikaśita

maegnoliā kusumer gāye pāprir upar pāpri… paripūrna jyochanāy phute utheche æk khānā sundar mukh” [Just

like a half-blossomed magnolia, one petal on another,… a beautiful face blooming in full moonshine] echoes

Kālidāsa’s comparison between Umā’s beautiful face and the beauty shared by the moon and the lotus. “Lotus” is

replaced by “Magnolia”.

Thus Morgana’s approach to Seaton, set against the romantic background of the Californian hill-scape may

be compared to the divine “romance” between Umā and Lord Siva, set against the backdrop of the Himalayas.

The comparision may seem odd, but its charm is not to be missed. The romantic scene, both in Corelli’s text and

Rāhā’s translation is disrupted when Seaton and Morgana begin to speak to each other, with mockery. But the

moment created by the translator’s allusion to Kālidāsa’s text, is sure to enchant the Indian readers. Again, Rāhā’s

use of the words like “girisānu” (Mountain-foot), “meghamālā” (cloud-garland), to describe the cloud floating

above the Mount Siera Madre, remind us of the classic beauty of the Meghadūtam (The Clould-messenger). The

language of expressing beauty and sublimity certainly differs from Sanskrit to English, but Rāhā’s Bengali

translation, as a means of cultural transaction, descends beneath the exterior disparities of two languages in order

to bring into vital play their analogous, and at the final depths, common principles of being—as one may say,

using George Steiner’s idea from After Babel.

Rāhā’s allusion to Śiva and Umā operates not only in terms of the rhetoric of the Indian classics. If we turn

from the classical-mythological Sanskrit texts to the folk-tradition of Bengal, we can see that Umā is a rich man’s

much-beloved, single daughter, and Śiva, an uncouth, poor person living in creamation-spots and deserted places

(śmaśāna-maśāna) outside the “civil” society. This is fairly in keeping with the socio-cultural barrier between

Morgana and Seaton. Raha’s treatment of the rumour about the marriage of Morgana and Seaton, using such

sentences as—“dhanakuber duhitā Margānā Rayāl nāki baramālya dite coleche oi dādioyālā bhāluktāke” (Rāhā,

1995, p. 63) [That rich man’s daughter, Morgana Royal—as the rumour went—was going to garland that beardy

bear] provides the Bengali readers with an enjoyable picture of folk-gossip, regarding such possibilities of an

“odd” marriage.

The Representation of War: Perspectives Changed in Time and Context

Finally we are to discuss the major change which comes from the translator’s anti-war perspective,

corresponding to the forces of history and politics of his time. Corelli’s critique of war comes along with her

personal antipathy to the activities of the press. Adding journalistic spice to the causes of political rivalry among

nations, the press, in the first decade of the 19th century, played a vicious role behind World War I.

During the inter-war years, political diplomacy and the rise of nuclear power grew to become a threat to


humanity, and Corelli’s idealist Seaton took it as his duty to oppose them, all alone, with a passionate obstinacy,

whereas Rāhā’s Seaton shows consideration and calculation, as he seeks to proceed with his discovery. He insists

on having permission of the government, to demonstrate the power of his radio-active weapon, somewhere in the

desert of Sahara—this appears to be a clear allusion to the first nuclear test conducted by America on July16,

1945 in the desert of North Almogordo, new Mexico. Rāhā’s translation of the anti-war pronouncements of

Seaton are expressly directed to Nazi aggression and Fascism—which had not been so prominent in Corelli’s

time, as they became before and during the World War II. Raha’s Seaton is deliberately anti-Fascist:

Durbhāgyakrame sabhya jagate æman æktā jāti māthā tule dā̃dieche, yāder balā yete pāre svabhābatahi yuddhabāj…

sahābasthāne tārā biśvāsī nay. Kāran anya kāukei tārā jñānbuddhi bā sabhyatār samskritite nijeder samakaksa mane kare nā. (Rāhā, 1995, p. 56)

[Unfortunately such a race has reared its head in the civilized world, as can be called war-thirsty by nature… they don’t believe in co-existence, for they don’t consider the others as equal to themselves, in intellect or in culture].

Corelli’s Seaton speaks of Germany casually, to use it as an example. Rāhā’s Seaton clearly mentions his

distrust of the “opportunistic” Germany, which comes from a bitter experience of the World War II, as one may

easily recognize from his words—“kon sandhike pabitra mane kare garmani? parājita hole takhan se sandhi kare”

(Rāhā 53) [Does Germany consider any treaty with honour? It signs treaties only when it is defeated].

Again Seaton’s description of the function and destructive power of his weapon bears an almost uncanny

resemblance to the way Hiroshima and Nagasaki were destroyed:

…ǽk khāni chotta plane meghaloker upar diye ure jābe kakhan, tomrā ter-o pābenā. ter pābe, yakhan sei chotta plen

theke porbe æktā chotta sarupānā cong tomāder deśer māthāy. kimbā… ter pābār āgei tomāder deś pur e chāi habe, gũdiye

renu renu hoye jābe, taliye jābe atal samudre. (Rāhā, 1995, p. 57)

[A small plane will pass through the clouds, and you won’t even realize—until a thin little cylinder will fall from it on the head of your nation. Or… even before realization, your country will be burnt to ashes, crushed to particles and dissolved into the sea unfathomable].

In fact, on August 6, 1945, at 8 a.m. two American planes were seen above Hiroshima. But the citizens did

not care, because they look them for simple “observers”. And when the atomic bomb was thrown at the “head of

Hiroshima”, as Louis Sneider reported:

Suddenly a piercing, blinding light… burst over the city… Then an earth-shaking shock thundered violently down over the centre of the city, crumbling everything into its range to rubble and dust,… (as cited in Mukhopādhyāy, 1978, Vol. III, p. 1195)

The language used by Rāhā’s Seaton is not much different from this. If Marie Corelli had been pre-occupied

with the destruction of the World War I, it is also evident how Rāhā was obsessed with the threat concerning the

misuse of nuclear power, in a post-World War II-world. Thus we may see how translation, as a literary work of

re-production, links the historical past with the recent past, and bridges two generations. As Willis Barnstone

comments in The Poetics of Translation:

Translation, then, is the river. It carries us through time when it causes earlier moments and old literature to survive, when it floats some part of a tradition to us live and with recreated originality, then translation is art. (Barnstone, 1993, p. 30)


Conclusion

In conclusion, one has to admit that the length and scope of Rāhā’s translation, which was written chiefly for

school-students, is too limited to exercise a fully “artistic mode of recreation”. Yet, there are glimpses of the

translator’s originality; and though the translation is for children, there are suggestions and allusions which

provoke further thoughts in the mind of the adult readers. This is where lies the “secret power” behind the Bengali

translation of The Secret Power.

References

Barnstone, W. (1993). The poetics of translation: History, theory, practice. New Heaven and London: Yale University Press. Bassnett-Mcguire, S. (2002). Translation studies (3rd ed.). London and New York: Routledge. Corelli, M. (1921). The secret power. Retrieved from http://www.gutenberg.org/files/3831/3831-h/3831-h.htm Hallim, R. (2002). Marie Corelli: Science, society and the best seller. Retrieved from

http://ses.library.usyd.edu.au/bitstream/2123/521/1/adt-NU20030623.11115901front.pdf Hollander, J. (1959). Visions, interpretations and performances. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Kālidāsa. (n.d). Kumāra-sambhavam in Sanskrita Sāhityasambhār (vol. II, 1978). Kolkātā: Nabapatra Prakāśan.

Mukhopādhyāy, V. (1978). Dvit ī ya Mahāyuddher Itihās (The history of the Second Great War). Kolkātā: Sāksaratā Prakāśan.

Rāhā, S. (1995). Kolkata, Deb Sāhitya Kutīr (The secret power in Bengali). Kolkata: Deb Sāhitya Kutir. Steiner, G. (1975). After Babel: Aspects of language and translation. London: Oxford University Press. The Book of Genesis, 18:23-14. (n.d). The King James Bible Online. Retrieved from

http://www.kingjamesbibleonline.org/Genesis-Chapter-18/ The Book of Psalms, 3:5-6. (n.d). The King James Bible Online. Retrieved from

http://www.kingjamesbibleonline.org/book.php?book=Psalms&chapter=3&verse=5


Exiles Turn Lemons Into Lemonade:

Multiethnic Poets of the US Crossing Borders

Mais Qutami

Amman Arab University, Amman, Jordan

This study critically examines selections from the political poetry of African American writer Amiri Baraka (Le

Roi Jones) and Arab American writer Suheir Hammad and the path they have chosen for themselves as exiles

reflected in their writing. Edward Said’s theory of exile is employed to illuminate common areas of interests that

link the two writers together as exiles. The study reveals their attitude toward various issues that impact both races,

the African American and Arab American such as imperialism, colonization, and oppression. Their poetry

underlines the impact of capitalism and racism on US society and other nations disempowered by imperialism.

Keywords: exile, African American, Arab American, Edward Said

Introduction

It is not a surprise that multiethnic communities reach out to each other and form bonds that help them

overcome difficulties faced in society. For instance, the status of Arab Americans as non-white, and outside the

mainstream, has led many to seek relations and build links to other groups of color such as African Americans.

Long before September 11, 2001, both communities have experienced a shared oppression that took the shape

of “racial profiling, detention and murder for political organizing or even for the suspicion of political

organizing” (Hartman, 2006, p. 146). Arab Americans were forced, as Majaj (2008) saw it, due to political

events, from the 1967 war in the Middle East to 9-11 and beyond, to deal with the issue of identity and the “write

or be written” imperative: “Define yourself or others will define you”. This has been the same dilemma African

Americans and other minorities have encountered throughout history. Although the shared oppression connects

the two communities to each other, the status of Arab Americans has become more problematic since September

11, 2001. African Americans, however, have sensed an improvement in their situation as racism against them was

being deflected to people of Middle Eastern descent. In one standup comedy performed in D. C. a comedian

states, “Black people, we have been delivered. Finally, we got a new nigger. The Middle Easterner is the new

nigger”, and another remarks, “It’s a good time to be Black. If you ain’t got no towel wrapped around your

head, your ass is in the game!” (Jacobs-Huey, 2006, pp. 60-61).

This reality demonstrates the link between the African American and Arab American community as they

both suffered from racial discrimination and persecution due to their skin color and place of origin. They have

both been viewed as suspects for crimes they had no connection to. Sadly, they have a shared history of pain

and discrimination. But intellectual exiles such as Baraka and Hammad, each representing his/her community,

have set the goal for themselves to write, and through their writing, inspire and empower others to resist

Mais Qutami, Ph.D., Assistant Professor, Department of the English Language & Translation, Amman Arab University.

DAVID PUBLISHING

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EXILES TURN LEMONS INTO LEMONADE

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submission and participate in their battle for justice and social transformation.

Like Baraka was enraged by all the racism blacks had faced in the 1960s, Hammad developed feelings of

anger toward American policies and its racism against minorities. Baraka and Hammad have used their poetry

as tools in their struggle for justice and transformation. They both resist and attack hegemonic forces that

oppress people and contribute to their suffering. Both write angry poetry to provoke readers, disturb their peace,

and make them think and act not giving anyone an excuse that allows them to sit on the sidelines and watch

others suffer. They believe that silence is complicity and approval of the violence that occurs against humanity.

In “Black Art”, Baraka (1969) writes:

Poems are bullshit unless they are Teeth or lemons piled … We want “poems that kill.”

Assassin poems, poems that shoot guns. (Baraka, 1969, p. 116)

Baraka realizes the power of words and poetry that can make a difference in the world. He strongly

believes in poetry’s impact on people, and so calls for revolutionary poems that fight, “poems that kill”.

Hammad, on the other hand, holds the same belief, as Baraka, in the role poetry has in terms of bringing change

and transformation to the world. Hammad (1996) explains:

Why do I write? ‘Cause I have to. ‘Cause my voice, in all its dialects, has been silenced too long. ‘Cause women are still abused as naturally as breath. Peoples are still without land. Slavery exists, hunger persists and mothers cry. My mother cries. Those are reasons enough, but there are so many more. (p. ix)

Hammad writes to give voice to the oppressed and to resist the many attempts to silence the victims and

prevent them from speaking up against dictatorship and imperialism. She is determined to make the voices of

women, refugees, slaves, and the downtrodden heard in the world. This drive to subvert existing political and

social paradigms to uplift the subjugated and improve their life conditions is what links the two writers,

Hammad and Baraka, to each other as intellectual exiles who have chosen this path of activism and marginality

at the same time.

Edward Said’s Theory of Exile

Exile is the banishment and separation of an individual from his native land due to certain political

circumstances that have forced a person to depart. This painful condition of exile has been a recurring theme in

Edward Said’s critical works. His focus on the issue comes from his personal experience of separation from his

homeland Palestine. There is this actual experience of an exile who suffers from displacement, poverty,

violence, and humiliation which the intellectual exile has not really gone through. This may have been the

condition of many Palestinians in 1948 after they lost their land but intellectuals such as Said did not have to

overcome the same conditions because he experienced the ramifications of exile and not exile itself. Due to the

exile of his ancestors and people, Said (1993), like many others, lived his life in a state of “metaphorical” exile

as he calls it. It relates to the intellectual standpoints an exile holds and a condition that can be practiced by

individuals who have not experienced actual exile. Said did not have to experience actual exile first hand but

through the loss of Palestine and his family’s history which was shaped by their displacement and

dispossession, he felt the suffering and trauma vicariously as other exiles have such as Suheir Hammad and

other Arab Americans.


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The concept of metaphorical exile can be applied to Hammad and Baraka as they both live outside the

mainstream and neither have a homeland to return to. Hammad cannot return to Palestine as Baraka is unable to

return to an Africa he never knew. They share the life of the intellectual exile as they bear the consequences of

the historical displacement of their people even if they have not experienced it firsthand. Perhaps those who

went through the actual experience of dispossession and exile are unable to articulate their emotions or turn that

pain into words. But distance and relative detachment from the experience brings these writers closer to it as

they engage in writing about it and telling the stories of those who have struggled terribly like their parents and

ancestors. Their daily experiences that bring their identities to the foreground complicates their lives and their

identities. Their dual identities present a challenge; to be Arab/Muslim and American has become undesirable

since 9/11, while being Black in America is also problematic. Hammad and Baraka do not try to seek comfort,

accommodation, or acceptance by the mainstream, on the contrary, they aim at unsettling people and disturbing

their peace by exposing injustices in society and in other countries. They expose people to worlds they are

unfamiliar with and perhaps never heard of or seen before. They also connect the suffering of many Americans

inside the borders of the USA to those in the Third World. Said (1993) explains:

Exile is a model for the intellectual who is tempted, and even beset and overwhelmed, by the rewards of accommodation, yea-saying, settling in. Even if one is not an actual immigrant or expatriate, it is still possible to think as one, to imagine and investigate in spite of barriers, and always to move away from the centralising authorities towards the margins, where you see things that are usually lost on minds that have never travelled beyond the conventional and the comfortable.

Baraka’s status as an exile draws him to write the highly controversial poem “Somebody Blew Up America”

through which his options of accommodation and settling in have become extremely limited. He chooses not to

please the authorities when he doubts it was Arab terrorists who were responsible for the 9/11 attacks. The poem,

in general, takes readers out of their comfort zone and forces their minds to “travel beyond the conventional”.

Hammad, as an exile, is also far from accommodating and yea-saying, she does not take things for granted as

others may. She is skeptic about the security measures implemented at US airports in order to prevent terrorist

attacks. In her powerful poem “Mike Check”, she does not approve of the way Arabs or Muslims are treated as

suspects and terrorists based on their place of origin or skin color. She also makes a reference to the murder of

Red Indians by the Americans who treat others as terrorists forgetting their own crimes against a certain people at

a certain time in history. Hammad (2005) ends her poem with, “a-yo mike/whose gonna/check you?”. This poem

indicates that appeasing authorities is not a priority at all for Hammad. She even makes it a point to mention the

Red Indians’ tragedy as a reminder of a history many wish to erase or turn a blind eye to. Naturally, a reminder as

such is unsettling for many American readers, makes them uncomfortable, and forces them to face that reality and

people’s remembrance of it. Both writers have written poetry that is inspiring and empowering at the same time.

Their work has certainly moved them from the “centralizing authorities towards the margins” where they were

able to explore and look into unusual situations in the mainstream and the margins simultaneously.

This intellectual exile because of his/her views and inherited sense of exile, according to Said (1993), has

chosen to live outside the mainstream, unaccomodated, unadjusted, and detached but at the same time very

involved. Both writers live in relative detachment that allows them to see beyond the common and the known

and whose judgment cannot be clouded by their own personal involvements because they have chosen to live

outside every mainstream and the limits it imposes on its followers. Hammad, for example, is different from

most Arab Americans who for a long time were focused on passing as white and trying to integrate into white


954

society. Growing up in Brooklyn, she found herself developing a sense of belonging to a community of people

of color and the lower class. She states, “I was a part of colored kids who were being taught by white teachers.

So there was a specific animosity towards me from certain teachers because I was Palestinian, but in general we

were all in the same boat” (Knopf-Newman, 2006, p. 79). She later became concerned and involved with issues

that go beyond the Arab American community and was engaged in a far more universal cause that touched the

lives of many minorities such as Blacks, Chicanos, Puerto Ricans, Africans, and Palestinians. Perhaps it is her

detachment from Arab Americans that helped her recognize larger issues beyond a single race or ethnicity. She

also learns about solidarity with others from June Jordan’s poetry and statement “I am now become

Palestinian”. Hammad was moved by these words coming from an African American, a non-Palestinian, who

recognized oppression and suffering outside her own community and it made her realize that it is not about

negotiations, rights, and treaties, it is about humanity and that sums it all up for her (Knopf-Newman, 2006, pp.

77-78). Her status as an exile is also reflected in her lack of accommodation and adjustment to any single

community. Hammad notes:

And my father’s like you’re not Hispanic, you’re not black, you’re not this, you’re not that. And then I’d meet other Palestinians and he’d be like, yeah, but you’re not like them either. You know, because it was a very specific immigrant experience at a very specific time... I didn’t have the sense of cultural clash in my body. I had it outside of my body… In my body I felt like, I look like everyone else I grew up with—whether they were Puerto Rican or Italian or light-skinned black people. (Knopf-Newman, 2006, p. 85)

Hammad did not belong to a single community but saw herself as a member of a multiethnic one struggling

with white male superiority and inequality. Having dark skin and Palestinian roots, she understands others’

predicament when dealing with issues of justice. Hammad is able to break the barriers between the oppressed of

various cultures and transcend her personal dilemma as an in-between and an outsider, and turn it into a tool of

empowerment used to support the subjugated and exploited. This is partially due to her status as an exile who is

unsettled by the injustices encountered and determined to unsettle others at the same time. Said (1993) states:

The pattern that sets the course for the intellectual as outsider… is best exemplified by the condition of exile, the state of never being fully adjusted. Exile for the intellectual in this metaphysical sense is restlessness, movement, constantly being unsettled, and unsettling others.

This state of restlessness, constant movement, and unsettling of others by the exile can best be illustrated

through the kind of life Baraka has led. Baraka was probably the most radical and polarizing poet in the 1960s and

1960s, who extended political debates to the world of arts (Italie, 2014). He believed that teaching black art and

history is essential just as producing works that call for revolution is. There was constant movement in Baraka’s

life. He graduated from high school and received a scholarship from Rutgers University but feeling out of place

there, he transferred to a black college, Howard University, hated it there then joined the Air Force. He was

later discharged for having so many books. He also taught at Yale University, George Washington University,

and the State University of New York (Italie, 2014). He was always unsettled by the political atmosphere and

the conditions African Americans lived in. He became a black nationalist, and leader of the Black Arts

Movement, then a Marxist-Leninist. In 1967, he was jailed during the Newark riots. In 1972, he helped

organize the National Black Political Convention and founded the Congress of African people. In 2002, Baraka

became New Jersey’s poet laureate but had unsettled many of his readers through “Somebody Blew UP

America” that stirred great controversy and his position was eliminated altogether due to his radical poetry.


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Said emphasizes that exile can be a condition that can be manipulated and turned into a source of great

wealth and production of highly fruitful results especially for the oppressed and deprived of proper human

rights because of the values the exile strives for as he/she takes on this role in the attempt to make the world a

better place. Nevertheless, Said (2002) insists exile is no fun and warns against turning it into a romantic

metaphor for the lonely intellectual. He explains “You must first set aside Joyce and Nabokov and think instead

of the uncountable masses for whom UN agencies have been created” (Said, 2002, p. 175). Clearly, the

thousands of UN agencies and refugee camps around the world were not established to provide the exile a

luxurious life, and that is the true reality of the exile. There is nothing romantic or exotic about such conditions.

The path Said has chosen for the exile is merely an adjustment and an attempt to deal with the worst condition

of loss, displacement, and uprootedness the best way possible.

Said (2002) responds to critics such as Ian Buruma (2001) who accuse him of presenting a rather

romanticized version of exile and portraying it as glamorous, sexy, and interesting, saying:

Necessarily, then, I speak of exile not as a privilege, but as an alternative to the mass institutions that dominate modern life. Exile is not, after all, a matter of choice: you are born into it, or it happens to you. But, provided that the exile refuses to sit on the sidelines nursing a wound, there are things to be learned: he or she must cultivate a scrupulous (not indulgent or sulky) subjectivity. (p. 146)

Said’s positive view of exile does not come from a belief that exile is something desirable by any means,

but since it is not a matter of choice, but a condition some people live in, it must be dealt with. Accordingly, his

positive view of it, in spite of its catastrophic impact, is actually an attempt to respond and adapt to the

conditions of exile instead of mourning and becoming a helpless victim of a hopeless situation. It provides the

individual with an alternative life style that works away from mass institutions that may reject the exile for a

situation he did not choose for himself or punish him for being born into it. This is best exemplified through

Hammad’s experience with exile:

People often want to limit you so if you’re Palestinian it’s this idea that my exiled refugee status meant that I did not contribute or was not influenced by anything around me. That I’m a static person who because I have a Right to Retum—and I demand it—does not assimilate. It goes back to fundamental racism. (Knopf-Newman, 2006, p. 86)

Hammad asserts that her situation as a refugee or exile does not make her useless to society or unable to

contribute but it is racists who portray exiles in that manner because they cannot see beyond this status and

what these individuals are capable of.

Said argues that exile can help an intellectual develop a critical perspective and originality of vision, and a

distinct worldview as he/she experiences multiple cultures and realities from which new meanings and

interpretations can be drawn. Hammad does not fit in Arab American community and neither can she be white.

She experienced a certain kind of refugee status and as an exile turned her experience into activism. She has not

become a static person paralyzed by the agony of her situation but a Tony award winner and a performer of

electrifying poetry on Broadway among many more accomplishments throughout her career. Hammad is a

living example of Said’s perception of an exile who chose to reshape their lives from being torn and wounded

exiles to an insightful intellectual with a vision and a tool that may significantly influence others. Seeing the

exile from such a lens can bring some positive aspects of it to the surface regardless of the pain and bitterness it

entails. Said (2002) explains the peculiarity of such a situation:

While it perhaps seems peculiar to speak of the pleasures of exile, there are some positive things to be said for a few


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of its conditions. Seeing “the entire world as a foreign land” makes possible originality of vision. Most people are principally aware of one culture, one setting, one home; exiles are aware of at least two, and this plurality of vision gives rise to an awareness of simultaneous dimensions… (p. 148)

Hammad is not white American, black, or a typical Arab either. She does not fit well into Arab American

society either but it is this exilic condition that gives her the pleasure of mobility within all these settings and an

awareness of different cultures. It is a privilege that creates a plurality of vision, a heightened sense of

awareness, and insight most can never gain through living within the confines of society and belonging to a

single ethnicity.

Perhaps the human’s need for a sense of belonging to a certain place leads the exile to detachment since

the ability to go back to one’s homeland is not possible. The exile becomes a citizen of the world whose

concern is human rights because he/she can no longer commit oneself to a single land or culture. Engaged in

larger causes than that of Blacks only, Baraka’s concerns extend to other people of color and the poor. Like

Hammad, he grew up in a racially mixed neighborhood in Newark which probably explains his engagement

with other people of color’s narrative and their marginalization by White elite. “He opened tightly guarded

doors for not only Blacks but poor whites as well and, of course, Native Americans, Latinos and Asian

Americans”, the American Indian author Maurice Kenny wrote of him. He adds, “We’d all still be waiting for

the invitation from The New Yorker without him. He taught us all how to claim it and take it” (Italie, 2014).

Baraka was alienated and exiled in his own homeland as his views and ideologies were considered radical, and

thus, rejected by the mainstream. In his poetry, he continuously condemns the hegemonic forces dominating

African American community and society in general.

Amiri Baraka: Restless and Controversial Poet

Amiri Baraka was always a committed activist; committed to struggle, change, unity, and movement

(Italie, 2014). He was a black nationalist and then a Marxist who criticized capitalists and imperialists of all

colors. In 1974, Baraka rejected Black Nationalism because he thought it was ideologically racist. He later on

became focused on political activism, social transformation, and justice (Italie, 2014). Baraka’s literary works

include the poetry collection “Black Magic”, the play “Slave Ship”, and the novel, “The System of Dante's Hell”,

among others. He received several grants and prizes, including a poetry award from the National Endowment

for the Arts and a Guggenheim fellowship.

Baraka was highly impressed with Malcom X and all he has done to support the African American cause

throughout history. Baraka declares “for many of us Malcolm summed up the spirit of the age which was, not

only resistance to… White supremacy and imperialism but, ah, aggressive resistance” (Richardson & Baraka,

1989). He followed his footsteps in resisting White supremacy and “the whole kind of national oppression that

Black people were subjected to”. He admired Malcom X for not trying to please any part of the establishment

which he viewed as corrupt as well as the Blacks attached to it. Perhaps Malcom X had a great influence on the

path Baraka had chosen for himself and the radical poetry he wrote. It was important to him that Malcom X had

always told the truth no matter what the consequences were and that set him apart from the “vacillating

opportunists, super cautious negroes” who were supposed to represent people like him but would not tell the

truth about anything (Richardson & Baraka, 1989). Baraka himself did not seek assimilation but as an exile

preferred a location outside the mainstream.

Baraka was a didactic poet who became popular for his political social comments that were very


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provocative and mostly called for breaking the silence and seeing the truth. Baraka uses poetry as a vehicle for

political action. He writes the highly controversial poem “Somebody Blew Up America” which is an attack on

racism and the injustices caused by imperialism and violence. He does not choose the common path in his

approach to 9/11 and console those who lost loved ones but reacts in anger to what he believes are the causes of

such a tragic event. He believes it is US tyranny around the world that brought about the terrorist attacks in

2001. The poem raises questions about the US approach to democracy in other countries that did not result in

any progress but in fact more oppression and violence. Baraka (2001) asks, “Who talk about democracy and be

lying”. He holds the US responsible for the many wars it has fought to make money, rule the world, gain

control over oil resources and then preaches about the good and the evil, democracy, and peace. In one of the

lines, Baraka poses the question, “Who got rich from Algeria, Libya, Haiti, Iran, Iraq, Saudi, Kuwait, Lebanon,

Syria, Egypt, Jordan, Palestine”. He mentions the Middle East in his poem although he has no Arab roots or

connection to the region but sympathizes with these nations whose resources are stolen. As an exile, he

consistently highlights injustice wherever he sees it whether it is in his own community or outside of it. Baraka

and Hammad, in this respect, build bridges between all the oppressed around the world as they both mention

Palestine, Haiti, Nicaragua, the Red Indians among others in their poetry.

Gery (2011) points out that in the first few lines of the poem a “they” is introduced referring to the

domestic terrorists, who are its real subject, but then mentions several parties who according to them were not

responsible for blowing up America, like the Klan or Skin heads (p. 172). Baraka presents his argument about

terrorism in the following lines in which he refers to many acts of racism and discrimination in US history which

he holds American terrorists accountable for even before anyone starts blaming foreign terrorists for the

transgressions within its borders.

They say its some terrorist, some barbaric A Rab, in Afghanistan It wasn’t our American terrorists It wasn’t the Klan or the Skin heads Or the them that blows up nigger Churches, or reincarnates us on Death Row It wasn’t Trent Lott. (Baraka, 2001)

He challenges those who think it cannot be American terrorists causing the many tragedies in the USA by

bringing back to the readers incidents from history that show US responsibility for the murder of many Red

Indians, and lynching of “black people, [and] terrorized reason and sanity, Most of humanity, as they pleases”.

Baraka continues to give examples of the many violations the US has committed against humanity to support

capitalism and serve its own interests.

Who make money from war… Who want the world to be ruled by imperialism and national oppression and terror violence, and hunger and poverty … Who need peace Who you think need war. (Baraka, 2001)


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This poem is a critique of US policies that have been implemented but have only led to more oppression

and destruction in the world. Baraka, as an intellectual exile, takes the liberty of exposing acts of evil caused by

the US and raises questions about its role in creating war, terror, and fear when its citizens expect it to bring

upon freedom and justice in other nations. He goes beyond the limits in criticizing presidential speeches about

peace and war. He tries to unsettle others through the use of facts from history, which are eye openers, in the

hope knowledge, critical thinking, and questioning authorities will lead to social transformation and more

activism on behalf of the public.

The position the intellectual exile, such as Baraka, has chosen through living and writing, while there is no

homeland to return to, can be intimidating for others as it grants the exile liberation from existing paradigms and

society’s restrictions. The exile can go anywhere with his/her thoughts beyond any limits set by authorities or

governments. It is this freedom that unsettles others. In this sense, exile and marginality can be positive in the

eyes of the intellectual. Said (1993) speaks of “the pleasure of being surprised”, not taking things for granted, and

dealing with instability that would most probably terrify others. Baraka is not afraid of pointing out America’s

wrong doing in terms of capitalism and the exploitation of workers, imperialism, and taking control of oil in

foreign lands while preaching about good and evil. The claims he makes in his writing can be intimidating for

those who have blind faith in their government and have never spoken truth to power. He enjoys the freedom

the status of exile grants him to cross boundaries and break the silence. Baraka (2001) writes:

Who own the oil Who do no toil… Who have the colonies Who stole the most land Who rule the world Who say they good but only do evil… Who want more oil Who told you what you think that later you find out a lie Who? Who? Who?

He denounces America’s decisions to steal land and oil from other nations. He is disappointed in the

country’s role in the world as colonizer and ruler who allows itself to rule the world through violence,

imperialism, terror, and hunger. The lines above demonstrate an exile’s fearlessness of the restrictions set by

authorities and insistence on speaking truth to power even if it means offending governments. It is this force

with which an exile speaks that unsettles others especially officials working for the government. Ironically, this

poem was not noticed much at first but later was labeled as anti-Semitic, and therefore, received many negative

comments from politicians, journalists, poets, and critics (Gwiazda, 2004, pp. 480-482). Baraka’s poem, in

Said’s (1993) words, has “moved [him] away from the centralizing authorities towards the margins” where he

was able to see things “that are usually lost on minds that have never travelled beyond the conventional and the

comfortable”. Surely, this poem has not brought him closer to the mainstream or the prescribed path to follow,

but brought him closer to the risky commitments he has made as an intellectual exile.

In “Reprise of One of A. G.’s Best Poems!”, Baraka (1979) condemns the USA for its indiscretions. He

portrays it as “a butcher in a cowboy suit”, an imperialist, and a capitalist that exploits its people. He stresses


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that “Capitalism/Is dying/ & its killing, has killed/Too many”. In another stanza, Baraka (1979) addresses

several issues that affect the lives of US citizens such as the class issue, poverty, and discrimination resulting in

the fury of those troubled by the socioeconomic situation:

America… We wade in the screaming In the unemployment In the frustrated wives & impotent husbands Of the/dying middle Class, In the anger of its Workers Its niggers Its wild intelligent Spics Its Brutalized Chicanos Its women out of work, again.

The previous lines reflect the voices of the marginalized in need of drastic change to end their poverty,

exploitation, unemployment, and violence against some minorities. He highlights the distress Americans are

undergoing whether they are workers, blacks, Chicanos, or women who are faced with the fact that the middle

class is disappearing leaving the rich richer and the poor even poorer. He suggests:

America Maybe you need to be Investigated For yr un-American Activities. (Baraka, 1979)

Baraka believes that the injustices inflicted on his fellow Americans and harmful practices seen in the land

of the free are rather un-American thus need to be investigated. Ironically, the term “un-American” has taken

on a new meaning, sine 9/11, which is the act of questioning the government. Baraka in these lines reveals the

way America has turned against its own principles of freedom, equality, and justice and the very foundation it

was built on through its un-American activities. He, repeatedly, turns US practice against itself by confirming it

is the explosions and violence caused by the US in various parts of the earth that will actually get America to

change. In his address to the USA which he refers to as “The Capitalists’ Shangri-La”, Baraka (1979) declares:

Explosion is yr middle & “maiden” Name. Violence Yr mid-wife. Explosion will birth you into Change… America even you, America- got to change.

The writer, dissatisfied with America’s continuous resort to violence and weapons, warns that through an


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explosion or extreme act, change will be brought about to the US. He emphasizes that change is necessary and,

in fact, a must even for America, the super power in the world. Unfortunately, the way America is portrayed in

this poem is hardly different from that in “Somebody Blew up America” although the two poems are over 20

years apart. He still sees it as a butcher killing and exploiting others to protect its capitalist and imperialist

interests.

Suheir Hammad “Breaks Barriers of Thought and Experience”

Suheir Hammad immigrated to the U.S with her family as Palestinian refugees. She grew up in Brooklyn

and was never formally trained as a writer, yet she published her poetry in Born Palestinian, Born Black (1995),

Drops of This Story (1996), Zaatar Diva (2005), and Breaking Poems (2008) (Knopf-Newman, 2006, p. 71).

Hammad, as a Palestinian American poet and activist, performs her poetry all over the world. She has won

several awards such as the Audre Lorde Writing Award, The New York Mills Artist Residency (1998), The

2001 Emerging Artist Award, Asian/Pacific/American Studies Institute at NYU, and the Tony Award. She was

also the original cast member and writer for Russell Simmons Presents Def Poetry Jam on Broadway (2003)

(Knopf-Newman, 2006, p. 71).

Hammad states that the entire history of displacement and refugee crisis of the Palestinians was the

narrative she had inherited from her Palestinian parents but when she went to school, the whole narrative was

totally non-existent and was replaced with an entirely new one that portrayed Palestinians as violent and

anti-Jewish. That is when she realized that the stories she heard about other people and their histories like the

Puerto Ricans, Blacks, and poor White kids she grew up with all came from that same authoritative voice that

gave her inaccurate information about her parents’ history (Brown & Hammad, 2006). Perhaps this is when

Hammad got interested in learning about the others’ story as they would all share the same history of

oppression and injustice and take on the responsibility of engaging in political activism and social reform. It is

this realization that gave shape to her literary production throughout her career.

Hammad has experienced her fate, as an exile who is on a sacred mission, and “not as a deprivation and as

something to be bewailed, but as a sort of freedom, a process of discovery” (Said, 1993). As an exile, she has

broken barriers with her writing, penetrated cultures, and built bridges between them connecting the suffering of

many nations. She does not see her fate as a deprivation but as a cause to fight for, resist submission, and reach

out to others. It gave her the freedom to step out of the Arab American community and enter many others of

various ethnicities and build solidarity with those subjugated and silenced across oceans.

For the intellectual, Said (1993) explains, an exilic displacement means being liberated from the usual path

that dictates you honor typical footsteps taken to obey and follow the rules and do well at the job.

Exile means that you are always going to be marginal, and that what you do as an intellectual has to be made

up because you cannot follow a prescribed path. If you can experience that fate not as a deprivation and as

something to be bewailed, but as a sort of freedom, a process of discovery and doing things according to your

own pattern as the particular goal you set yourself dictates, that is a unique pleasure.

Hammad is determined “to give voice to the voiceless” and to unsettle her readers by revealing all kinds of

oppression in her writing. She often writes about similarities of people of color and their shared history of

oppression that unites them. She strengthens the ties between those trying to survive their multiple struggles

such as African Americans who have experienced many injustices living under White male supremacy (Brown

& Hammad, 2006). The exile, like Hammad, has a double perspective and never sees things in isolation but as


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an observer looking inside at the worlds he has encountered and those created in his own writing. Hammad’s

attachment to the black community is visible in her writing in the topics of race and segregation she touches

upon in addition to the commitment she showed in her support of the victims of Hurricane Katrina. Her

sympathy with the victims manifested itself when she held a benefit to raise funds for the survivors of the

Hurricane under the title “Refugees for Refugees”. She had put up a poster with the definition of the word

refugee.

Merriam-Webster’s Dictionary Refugee: Noun one that flees; especially: a person who flees to a foreign country or power to escape danger or persecution Suheir Hammad's Dictionary Refugee: Noun, Verb, Ism ONE LIKE ME. (Hammad, 2005c)

Hammad had chosen this definition to connect the Palestinians with the victims of the Hurricane who were

abandoned and got no assistance from the state. They have both experienced the status of refugee and know

what it feels like to be perceived that way by others who may have never been through anything remotely

related to being a refugee or an exile. She is angered by officials who are passive and indifferent to the disasters

that affect others.

In her poem, “A Prayer Band”, Hammad (2005a) reiterates the victims’ concerns about the way their

displacement was dealt with as if it were an irrelevant event taking place in the Third World. She reminds her

readers that the negligence with which New Orleans was dealt with has occurred within the US to US citizens,

but it did not get to the top of the government’s priority list because it mostly affected African Americans and

the poor. Hammad reveals the racism with which African Americans and their issues are handled by

government officials. As an intellectual exile, she is not accustomed to being silenced, or belonging to a single

community to defend, but seeks opportunities to reach out to the marginalized and oppressed no matter what

their ethnicity is. However, in this case she has great loyalty to the African American community as it played a

major role in her life since childhood and she sees its suffering as her own. Hammad (2005a), sarcastically,

comments:

I have known of displacement… who says this is not the america they know? what america do they know? were the poor people so poor they could not be seen? were the black people so many they could not be counted? ... and life it seems is constructed of budgets contracts deployments… and gasoline but mostly insurance…

Hammad states that she is familiar with displacement having a Palestinian background which enables her

to fully comprehend the situation in New Orleans where people were evacuated and uprooted by Hurricane

Katrina. She criticizes the Bush administration for the way the victims of the hurricane were neglected and

believes it is all due to the issues of race and class. She condemns it for its lack of action when assistance was

urgently needed for American citizens who were struggling for survival. She realizes that life is all about the

haves and not the have-nots who have lost everything as they were being displaced by the hurricane. Hammad


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finds it outrageous how materialistic and inhumane the US has become as the victims were left to drown

because they were poor and black. Majaj (2004) writes:

[Hammad] is not interested in making anyone comfortable, least of all herself. Yet her writing is imbued not only with rage and grief, but also with a fierce insistence on affirmation and change… Poetry becomes, in Hammad’s hands, a political tool, one used for critique, self-definition and empowerment. (pp. 260-261)

Hammad, as an exile, takes stances on critical issues such as Hurricane Katrina and 9/11 even if it makes

her unpopular and entails taking risks like criticizing the government. Her activism is always focused on human

rights, freedom, and positive change.

In “First Writing Since”, Hammad (2001) responds to 9/11 and its impact on Arab Americans such as

herself. She is aware of the danger awaiting anyone Muslim, or of Arab or Middle Eastern descent because of

the hostile rhetoric used against them after the attacks as bombings in the past were associated with these

people even before evidence was found to convict them. She writes, “Please god, after the second plane, please,

don’t let it be anyone who looks like my brothers”. This is when her multiple affiliations appear but her

connection to Arabs and Muslims becomes problematic yet there is no denying of such connection that makes

her heritage and who she is today. The plurality of vision Said speaks of is reflected in Hammad’s comments on

the feelings some Americans experienced post 9/11 that could lead to further revenge and political turmoil. She

looks at the situation from multiple perspectives that allow her, as an intellectual exile, to see simultaneously

the horrific impact of the tragedy on America and the consequences other nations will have to endure from that

moment on.

On my block, a woman was crying in a car parked and stranded in hurt. i offered comfort, extended a hand she did not see before she said, “we’re gonna burn them so bad, i swear, so bad.” my hand went to my head and my head went to the numbers within it of the dead Iraqi children, the dead in nicaragua. the dead in rwanda who had to vie with fake sport wrestling for america’s attention. (Hammad, 2001)

Hammad’s exilic status entitles her to take an interest in humanity and the whole universe as she has

become a citizen of the world and not of a single land thus her connection to human suffering wherever it may

be. In the stanza above, she underlines the horror in the killing of children and builds a connection between the

dead and oppressed in Iraq, Nicaragua, and Rwanda. She identifies with them and rejects the atrocities taking

place in these nations. She shifts back to her affiliation to the US when she states she lives there, and “these are

my friends and fam,/and it could have been me in those buildings, and we’re not bad/people, do not support

America’s bullying”. She stresses that no matter what Americans did, still those who died on September 11

were victims and could have been her family or friends who do not deserve to die the way many did.

Nevertheless, she condemns America’s bullying and criticizes it for its foreign policies which have created

many enemies for them around the world. The shifting back and forth between her dual identity and multiple

affiliations becomes necessary in the next few lines because, in these circumstances, she cannot afford being

confused with the enemy neither can she give up her connection to Arabs and Muslims who look like her brothers.

one more person ask me if i knew the hijackers… one more person assume no arabs or muslims were killed. one more person assume they know me, or that i represent a people. or that a people represent an evil… (Hammad, 2001)


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She is infuriated by the thought of being associated with hijackers just because she has Arab roots and this

is when she disconnects herself from belonging to that group of people who do not represent her or all Arabs

and Muslims. She then reminds the readers of the fact that several tragedies were caused by Americans, but it

did not lead to the generalization that all Americans or Christians are bombers like Mcveigh who was held

responsible for the Oklahoma city bombing. “We did not vilify all white men when mcveigh bombed

Oklahoma”. She also refers to the crimes committed by KKK that are not stressed enough when issues of “holy

books and hooded men” arise. These are references to violence taking place within the US by Whites and had

nothing to do with Arabs or Muslims. Hammad goes on to present a more humane image of Palestinians and

Arabs in contrast to the stereotypical one circulated by the media that represents them as heartless terrorists.

She writes, “if there are any people on earth who understand how new york is feeling right now, they are in the

west bank and the gaza strip” (Hammad, 2001). She humanizes Palestinians in these lines and asserts that it is

they who would definitely understand and empathize with the 9/11 victims because of all the crimes and human

right violations committed against them. These people experience 9/11 on daily basis and many refuse to hear

about their suffering. In this sense she connects the suffering of Americans and New Yorkers, particularly, with

that of people in the Third World who have frequently experienced violence and bombings in their countries

due to colonization and imperialism.

Hammad, as an intellectual exile, calls for critical thinking in the hope that the public will realize the

polarization and ideologies created post 9/11 to silence dissident voices that may question government

decisions. She tries to open the reader’s eyes to the radical nature of the former president’s vision and stance

that draw an unreasonable picture of the world where things are black and white and nothing in between.

Hammad is critical of his speeches that invite people to choose one radical side over the other, both leading in

the end to more massacres, wars, and tragedies in the world. She asserts, “either you are with us, or with the

terrorists”—meaning keep your people/under control and your resistance censored, meaning we got the

loot/and the nukes (Hammad, 2001). This is the very rhetoric Hammad rejects. It is George Bush’s rhetoric of

oppression through which he sought to control people and the stances they took on political issues. She

condemns this dominance over people’s thinking, resistance, and freedom of expression. Although she exposes

the government’s transgressions, she does not forget to mention the good in people. She shows faith in the

goodness and kindness of Americans and believes that evil could never prevail as long as there are others like

her who are dedicated to justice and human rights, and act against oppression and “hateful foreign policies”.

In america, it will be those amongst us who refuse blanket attacks on the shivering. those of us who work toward social justice, in support of civil liberties, in opposition to hateful foreign policies. (Hammad, 2001)

Hammad, as an intellectual exile, inspires her readers to get involved in acts that support justice, and

encourages activists to resume efforts to achieve social transformation. She empowers them by showing

solidarity and confirming that there are many conscientious Americans who cannot accept oppression as a norm

and will continue to work against injustice and crimes against humanity.

Conclusion

Baraka and Hammad have both tackled issues of oppression and suffering within the US and outside its

borders. They have brought to the foreground the universal injustices inflicted on the powerless by imperialist


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and hegemonic forces and given expression to many silent voices crushed by various political and social

systems. They believe it is their responsibility as intellectual exiles to do so as it is a moral obligation to call for

human rights.

Both poets encourage their readers to step outside the privileged lives they live and experience the

suffering of others. They call on their own communities to transcend their own oppression and join others in

their struggle and battle for freedom. They urge them to defend human rights as it is a universal cause that goes

beyond the dilemmas of a single community and serves humanity at large. Through their writings, Baraka and

Hammad have not allowed their position in the margins and outside the mainstream define them. On the

contrary, they have taken advantage of their rather misfortunate situation and turned it into a source of

creativity, art, empowerment, and activism. Actually, it is their exilic status that assisted them in building

dreams for themselves and for the oppressed and exiled all over the world. They were able to make a difference

in multiple communities, within the East and the West, by building solidarity between its citizens in addition to

the big bang they created in the literary world.

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http://business.highbeam.com/4776/article-1G1-71118896/romance-exile-real-wounds-unreal-wounds Gery, J. (2011). Duplicities of power: Amiri Baraka’s and Lorenzo Thomas’s responses to September 11. African American

Review, 44, 167-180. Gwiazda, P. (2004). The aesthetics of politics/the politics of aesthetics: Amiri Baraka’s “Somebody Blew up America”.

Contemporary Literature, 45(3), 460-485. Hammad, S. (1996). Born Palestinian, born black. New York: Harlem River Press. Hammad, S. (2001). First writing since. Retrieved from http://www.inmotionmagazine.com/ac/shammad.html Hammad, S. (2005a). “A Prayer Band”. In Logos: A Journal of Modern Society and Culture. Retrieved from

http://www.logosjournal.com/issue_4.4/poetry_4.4.htm Hammad, S. (2005b). “Mike Check.” In Zaatar Diva. New York: Cypher Books. Hammad, S. (2005c). Refugees for refugees: Benefit for Katrina survivors. Retrieved from

http://insaf.net/pipermail/nyfoil-l_insaf.net/2005q3/000569.html Hartman, M. (2006). This sweet/sweet Music: Jazz, Sam Cooke, and reading Arab American literary identities. MELUS, 31(4),

145-165. Italie, H. (2014). Amiri Baraka dead: Controversial author and activist dies at 79. Retrieved from

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/01/09/amiri-baraka-author-activist-dies-79_n_4570912.html Jacobs-Huey, L. (2006). The Arab is the new nigger: African American comics confront the irony and tragedy of September 11.

Transforming Anthropology, 14(1), 60-64. Knopf-Newman, M. (2006). Interview with Suheir Hammad. Melus, 31(4), 71-91. Majaj, L. S. (2004). Visions of home: Exile and return in Palestinian-American women’s literature. Thaqafat, 7(8), 251-264 . Majaj, L. S. (2008). Arab-American literature: Origins and development. American Studies Journal, No. 52 Richardson, J., & Baraka, A. (1989). Interview with Amiri Baraka. Retrieved from

http://digital.wustl.edu/e/eii/eiiweb/bar5427.0106.009amiribaraka.html Said, E. (1993). The Reith lectures: Intellectual exile, expatriates and marginals. Retrieved from

http://www.independent.co.uk/life-style/the-reith-lectures-intellectual-exile-expatriates Said, E. (2002). Reflections on exile and other essays. Cambridge: Harvard University Press.


“Eye Caught by Another Eye”: Locating Experience in Nadine

Gordimer’s The Lying Days

Laura Giovannelli

University of Pisa, Pisa, Italy

In one of the first pages and crucial scenes of The Lying Days (1953), we soon associate the narrating voice with

that of a bright, inquisitive child of Scottish descent immersed in the harsh Witwatersrand scenario of a mining

estate outskirts in the 1930s, along a path crammed with Jews’ concession stores and exotic-looking natives. The

unruly little girl is Helen Shaw, the late Nadine Gordimer’s fictional double in her still somewhat neglected first

novel, a Bildungsroman where the South African writer coming from Springs admirably capitalized on the

“camera-eye” perspectives and zooming-in on details which had already informed much of her masterly short

fiction. The aim of the present paper is to shed light on Helen’s difficult growth towards sociopolitical and ethical

awakening—in a country finding itself more and more trapped in the apartheid grip—by pointing out the earliest,

embryonic stages of such a progressive knocking down of epistemic barriers. The author will thus focus on “The

Mine”, the first and most concise of the three parts making up the novel, and show how Gordimer’s acute prose,

incisive style, and descriptive strategies prove to be a fitting tool for recording and weighing the experience of an

indefatigable observer, a hungry mind in search of erased features, meaningful connections, revealing contexts and

subjects.

Keywords: functional description, significant detail, segregated communities, apartheid, epistemological growth

Introduction

Apparently less inclined to comment on her debut novel than address issues relating to her later fiction,

especially such masterpieces as The Conservationist, Burger’s Daughter and July’s People, Nadine Gordimer

called nonetheless attention to two main features characterizing The Lying Days. These components are the book’s

autobiographical background—pivoting on preoccupations which, if inevitably connected with the South African

“big theme” of racist policies, the moral agonies of segregation, the attempts to envisage a borderland where whites

and blacks might interact, “were still very personal, emotional, very adolescent, as so often happens in first novels”

(Walters, 1987, p. 288)—and its peculiarly segmented texture, as the author observed in another interview:

That strictness comes from the discipline of the short story. When I was teaching myself to write, it was the short story I was working on, and I think my first two novels lacked narrative power because I knew how to condense but not how to make the links properly, so that the first novel fell into segments that didn’t quite knit. But the getting to the essence of things and the looking for the significant detail come from the discipline of the short story. (Marchant, Kitchen, & Rubin, 1986, pp. 254-255)

Laura Giovannelli, Ph.D., associate professor, Department of Philology, Literature and Linguistics, University of Pisa.

DAVID PUBLISHING

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“EYE CAUGHT BY ANOTHER EYE” 966

If her 1953 novel, which she started writing when she was about 25 (the moment the story draws to a close,

Helen Shaw is correspondingly 24), does not excel in conceptual wholeness or skilful plot-construction, it can

certainly be praised in relation to what Gordimer defined here and on other occasions as the recording of the

“significant detail”1. For one thing, we should naturally keep in mind the discipline gained through the process of

short-story writing and the concomitant refinement of the polished, “jewel-cutting style”2 any practised reader of

Gordimer is now familiar with. The guiding principles of lucidity, compression, and rhetorical economy, rooted

in a seminal frame looking back on E. A. Poe’s theoretical assumptions, are almost everywhere to be seen in her

short narrative, especially the works dating back to the 1950s and 1960s. On the other hand, there was a quality in

the young Nadine’s temperament that ought to be mentioned as well: her cleverness at impersonating characters,

a proclivity to imitation that she had plenty of opportunities to cultivate, even against her will, due to her mother’s

influence and involvement in philanthropic initiatives like benefit performances (amateur theatricals) and also to

the woman’s hyperprotective attitude towards her younger daughter. When nine-year-old Nadine was diagnosed

with a heart ailment caused by an enlarged thyroid gland, Hannah (Nan) Myers decided that it would be safer for

the little girl to limit physical activity as much as possible, including the dancing lessons her daughter was so

keen on. Two years later, Nan engaged a private tutor and took her out of school. During that unwelcome,

five-year “quarantine” spent with older people, Nadine devoted herself to omnivorous reading (she regularly

borrowed books from the municipal library in Springs), developed literary taste and introspection but also

enjoyed observing and mimicking adults, playfully reproducing their linguistic inflexions, manners of expression

and often trivial conversations.

Leaving aside the bitter feelings of resentment and loneliness that this odd situation understandably aroused

in the budding writer, particularly when she was to realize in later years that hers had not been a serious illness,

after all3, it is interesting from our point of view to quote again Gordimer’s words testifying to an ability to

1 See also the following statement, where the idea is given further strength by the vivid image of the writer’s “fresh eye”: “It’s significant detail that brings any imaginative work alive, whatever the medium. If you can’t see things freshly, if you can’t build up through significant detail, then I think you fall into cliché, not only in the use of words and phrases, but even in form. That fresh eye is the most valuable thing in the world for any writer. When I look at my early stories, there’s a freshness about them, there’s a sensuous sensibility that I think you only have when you’re very young; after that you go on to analyzing your characters, you go on to narrative strength. But first, you’ve got to have that fresh eye with which to see the world” (Boyers, Blaise, Diggory, & Elgrably, 1982, p. 195; italics in the text). Besides the short stories, these remarks may apply equally to several macro-segments of The Lying Days. Indeed, the first part of the novel has a few elements in common with “The Defeated”, a story from The Soft Voice of the Serpent (1952) in which a Scots red-haired little girl living on a Mine property disobeys her prejudiced mother and decides to visit the shabby concession store of a Jewish schoolmate. 2 See Magarey (1974). The most outspoken eulogist of the fine artistry, obsidian-like wit and trait de lumière in Gordimer’s (early) style—allegedly at its most polished in her short stories—remains Haugh (1974). 3 Gordimer dealt with these personal vicissitudes in a fair number of interviews and autobiographical essays. A critic who has most emphasized the link between the author’s childhood and relationship to her mother and some essential features in her narrative is Cooke (1985), who, in connection with the motif of the “exploring eye”, claimed that in Gordimer’s fiction the ways of seeing connoting youth “are determined, above all else, by unusually possessive mothers. … her novels by themselves reveal her obsessive concern with domineering mothers, the resulting resentment and sense of powerlessness of their children. Gordimer deals with such relationships most concertedly in The Lying Days, Occasion for Loving, and Burger’s Daughter, which form an extended Bildungsroman centering on the attempts of daughters to break free of the mother’s power and establish lives of their own” (p. 44). This passage from the novel notably testifies to the power of the mother’s piercing glance: “I felt, like some secret horror walled up inside me, beating on the walls with cries that nobody but I should ever hear, the panic and anger of being under my mother’s eyes. I saw her gaze hardening over me” (Gordimer, 2002, p. 281). Cooke (1985) sounds however quite categorical and pessimistic when contending that “Helen is never quite able to forsake her childhood home. … The twenty-four-year-old Helen we see about to embark for England at the novel’s close remains as much in her mother’s thrall as the nine-year-old girl at the novel’s outset” (p. 48).


bracket personal suffering—her pathetic resembling a little old woman—and, as it were, make a virtue of

necessity. When asked by Peter Marchant about her “wonderful eye” for detail, habits and mannerisms, she

reiterated the point of her queerly unique childhood experience as an eavesdropper and jester for grown-ups at tea

parties:

As a child, one of the things I enjoyed doing and was encouraged by adults to do for their amusement was to mimic people, and I was really rather good at it. I had a parrot-like ability to mimic an accent or way of speaking, so sometimes when my mother’s friends were there, I was mimicking other friends. I now think it was rather an unpleasant thing, but I enjoyed the limelight. Fortunately, these instincts to show off—I was also a dancer and did some amateur acting—all fell away, and whatever this projection of the imagination was and this ability to observe people closely that all writers must have became concentrated on writing quite early on. (Marchant, Kitchen, & Rubin, 1986, p. 254)

This intriguing hovering between playing by the adults’ rules and going about one’s aim, or at least trying to

carve out a niche for self-expression and censure4—in this case through minute examination and mimicry—can

also be seen to inform the protagonist’s behaviour in The Lying Days. What follows is one of the most poignant

passages taken from “The Mine” (Part One, Sections 1-4)5, where Helen Shaw, the first-person narrator,

remembers relishing her show in the full glare of an adult audience, consisting of her family friends gathered at a

Transvaal tennis club, one of the then innumerable whites-only places:

Soon I was handing round the crumpets, helping with fresh cups of tea. They teased me and talked to me playfully; I blushed when the young men chaffed me in a way that seemed to deepen some secret between them and their girls. But recklessly, I could answer them back, teasing too, I could make them laugh. They said: “Listen to her!—Did you hear that?—” I stood bridling with pleasure, looking wide out of my eyes in the face of applause.

I went there often on Saturday afternoons after that, accepted as one of them, but with the distinction of being the only child in the party. It was easy to be one of them because I soon knew their jokes as well as they did themselves and, beside my mother, sat a little forward as they did, waiting for each to come out with his famous remark. Then when they rocked and shook their heads at getting just what they had expected, I would jump up and down, clutching at my mother’s arm in delight.

I was quite one of them. (Gordimer, 2002, p. 16; italics in the text)

What is also worth noting is how the last, isolated statement, closing both the episode and the first section of

“The Mine”, objectifies a kind of climactic seal operating at a typographical, syntactic and semantic level. The

phrase encodes in fact Helen’s troubled recognition of her racial allegiance, her cultural and ethnic belonging

with a privileged, uniform enclave in a strongly polarized society. If not exactly an admission of guilt (relating to

connivance and accountability on the whites’ part), that assertion carries with it the chilling overtones of a

counter-epiphany, since it is made after the child bravely set off on her journey of discovery in the surroundings

of the Mine white district, a challenging experience of “culture shock” (Head, 1994, p. 41) and confrontation with

a hardly classifiable alterity, which shall be the subject of our commentary in the following pages.

Notwithstanding her initial (and, compulsively, future) “tussle to free herself from the effects of her mother’s

4 In “A Bolter and the Invincible Summer” (1963), too, Gordimer spoke of her talent for showing off and “a device of the personality that… later became the practical sub-conscious cunning that enabled me to survive and grow in secret while projecting a totally different, camouflage image of myself” (Gordimer, 1989, p. 20). 5 The Lying Days is set in the South Africa of the first half of the twentieth century (1935-1950) and is divided into three parts: “The Mine” (pp. 3-36); “The Sea” (Part Two, Sections 5-19, pp. 39-204); “The City” (Part Three, Sections 20-38, pp. 207-376).


ethnocentric and racist attitudes” (Head, 1994, p. 36), the awareness of being “one of them” should be read here

as the protagonist’s momentous taking cognizance of the snobbish, fake bourgeois world she was born into. That

constricting world mirrored in turn the English-speaking milieu of those “brought up on the soft side of the

colour-bar” (Ross, 1965, p. 34), to borrow again Gordimer’s words. Such unmasking, right in the aftermath of

Helen’s temporary leaving home and venturing out to see what lay beyond the complacent British settlers’ fences

(namely, white lower ranks and the demonized “kaffirs”), can be said to represent a fundamental step towards

grasping the internal differences and hybrid texture of the South African reality, with its multiple social

constellations.

The complexity and contradictions of that reality—too often relying on false principles, mutual distrust,

racial hatred and “so many lies”6 about hierarchies, the inferiority of the non-whites, the ideas of nation and

mother country—will reveal themselves as both a powerful trigger and a smashing obstacle for Helen’s Bildung.

The narrating (adult) I of the present endeavours to sensibly reconstruct such hard-fought growth through

memory and sets about recording it, with all its achievements and failures, only to cut it off in the epilogue—in

Section 38, the last one in the text, the speaking voice acquires an almost dismissive, uncommitted tone: “Perhaps

this story should end there” (Gordimer, 2002, p. 375)—as though the “new Helen” of young womanhood still

needed time (along with a relieving escape to Europe) to interlace the threads of her life and roots. Time to piece

together her national and social ties in a broadened, post-Forsterian connection and truly define identity, beliefs,

long-term goals.

The Writer and Her Character

There is thus much more to reckon with, in The Lying Days, than just a “faulty” Bildungsroman falling short

of the great tradition’s standards and paradigms, such principles being a character’s exemplary development from

self-referentiality to a purposeful mediation with the world (from fanciful idealism to the acquisition of a suitable

role); the figuring out of a synergic symmetry between the individual and society; a quest for identity and

integration that unfolds within an overall teleological framework and in concert with the humanistic idea of

“education” (not to be confused with compliance or conformism).

This novel rather lays the groundwork for a critical revisiting of a European model which does not appear to

6 See again Boyers, Blaise, Diggory, & Elgrably (1982), p. 196. The words “lie” and “lying” are obviously key terms in the novel, which takes its title and epigraph from “The Coming of Wisdom with Time” (1909), a four-line poem by W. B. Yeats centring around the painful rite of passage from the joyous illusions of youth to the withering truth of adulthood. Gordimer connects this motif with a specific and at the same time wider context, including both the private sphere of Helen’s family, friends and lovers and the public, historical arena of the “big lie” endorsing colonial racism. On the one hand, lying involves the easy enthusiasm of youth as well as the everyday concealments deriving from self-doubt, timidity and the fear of breaking taboos. See for instance the episode in which Helen’s mother scolds her because the girl did not soon reveal that she had been living with Paul Clark: “Living with this man and lying, writing letters and lying” (Gordimer, 2002, p. 277). On the other hand, the “lying days” bear the imprint of the harsh truths espoused by the segregationist ethos, with its obnoxious network of duplicities, ranking, dividing and consequent moral or psychic dilemmas for the more sensitive, penetrating minds. An example among scores is offered by the following excerpt, hinting at Paul’s “schizoid” splitting between his state-controlled duties as a welfare officer at the Native Affairs Department in Johannesburg and his “illegal” collaboration with the ANC underground forces: “And they became expert at filling in applications for Departmental funds in such a way as to avoid their narrow stringency and stretch their validity to cover expenditure that was officially ‘beyond the Department’s scope’. ‘But I’ll wangle it somehow’, I have often heard Paul say, telling me of some scheme for which money or facilities were not available. He would narrow his eyes and lift his chin while he thought what lie, what approach, would be best. And though he laughed at his own craftiness that had developed so efficiently out of necessity, there was in his eyes at these times he afterward mocked a concentration of determination, blank, grim, that he did not see” (Gordimer, 2002, p. 267).


fit into the South African context and its tragically distorted sensibilities, neuroses and ongoing warfare. What the

“heroic” character needs here is a more penetrating, titanic and subversive energy capable of stretching

boundaries so as to shatter deep-seated prejudices, hypocrisy, white mythologies and see beyond the shameful

bulwarks of “apartness”, that is to say segregationist politics and the institutionalization of apartheid along with

“the insidious effects of this ideology on the lives of the people caught in its workings” (Pettersson, 1995, p. 30).

In other words, no fulfilling alignment, cultural sharing or Hegelian dialectic between Helen—the Anglophile

liberal humanist—and a crudely compartmentalized society affiliated to Afrikaner nationalism is conceivable.

The fact that the protagonist may not yet forge her own position in the community is to be explained in the light of

both the environment’s hostility and the difficulties she encounters in transcending private experience towards

public commitment, the taking of a firm (and dangerous) stand on collective issues7.

As underscored by Gordimer, her character’s preoccupations still clung somehow too tightly to the

emotional and politically naïve realm of the (inter)personal8. No radical socialist, Helen hopes “to establish

meaningful relationships with other races within the existing order of things” (Pettersson, 1995, p. 58; italics in

the text). She thereby calls to mind the well-meaning liberal who goes to great pains to deconstruct the colonial

frame of mind, repudiates bigotry and petty conservatism and proceeds to champion “decent” behaviour out of a

universal belief in tolerance, kindness, equal rights, distributive justice, and the dignity of the individual (such

tenets palpably bearing relation to the ethics of multi-racialism in the 1950s South Africa). Piloting her timorous

action are personal choices and mildly “boycotting” gestures (tinged with the gnawing pain of guilt and the wish

to ease her conscience) which would bypass, but do not effectively challenge, middle-class security or, even less,

the system fuelled by Daniel François Malan’s baasskap policy and the Nationalists’ creed exalting the “purity”

of the white race.

Nevertheless, by progressively moving away from the strait-laced morality and stale provincialism of the

Mine, from the narcissistic interlude of infatuation at the sea in Natal and the sham fights, double standards,

ineffectual bohemianism of most of her leftist friends in Johannesburg, Helen will finally experience a condition

of dawning awareness, as though coming of age through disillusion—“I was twenty-four and my hands were

trembling with the strong satisfaction of having accepted disillusion as a beginning rather than an end” (Gordimer,

2002, p. 376)—and via the certainty of her uncertain position in South Africa:

Here there’s only the chaos of a disintegration. And where do people like us belong. Not with the whites screaming to hang onto white supremacy. Not with the blacks—they don’t want us. So where? (Gordimer, 2002, p. 359)

Quite a few examples could be provided here of the discernible interlocking between Helen’s reflections and

7 In this sense, I find myself only partially agreeing with Newman (1988), who, while recognizing “the subtlety with which Gordimer subverts Eurocentric conventions” (p. 14), investigates The Lying Days from a primarily gender-oriented point of view that risks glossing over (or simply taking for granted) the wider question of ethnic discrimination and white racism. The critic’s focus is mainly on the problematic nature of a woman’s Bildung in a patriarchal culture, on the inevitably discontinuous and disjointed formation of “a character who is excluded from both the African world and that of the male” (p. 18). In Dimitriu’s (2002) adamant tones, one should not be allowed to forget that “The Lying Days may be a Bildungsroman, but Helen is shaped crucially by the special circumstances of the South Africa in which she lives” (p. 40), by the “South African ‘typicality’” (p. 42). 8 This is especially made clear through Helen’s and her friends’ reaction to the first repressive measures backed up by the National Party: “When the impact on individual, personal lives is not immediate and actual, political change does not affect the real happiness or unhappiness of people’s lives, though they may protest that it does. … although they talked gloomily, I did not see in anyone’s face the anxious concentration of concern I had seen come so quickly over the sickness of a child, or the haggard foreboding that kept pace with the disintegration of a love affair” (Gordimer, 2002, p. 258).


some of the author’s well-known statements about, say, the non-conformist whites embodying a minority

rejected by both black militants and white supremacists, or the wearing struggle to sever the apartheid connection

to the category of a God-given law, a “natural” and unquestionable order of things, towards the recognition of the

humanity and personhood of blacks. At times the writer and her character literally speak in unison. Helen’s

momentous realization when she says she “had begun to see the natives all around not as furniture, trees, or the

casual landmarks of a road through which my life was passing, but as faces; the faces of old men, of girls, of

children” (Gordimer, 2002, p. 212) echoes Gordimer’s description of the “relationship with the black people

among whom we lived as people live in a forest among trees” (“A Bolter and the Invincible Summer”, 1963, in

Gordimer, 1989, p. 26). A most telling remark worth quoting is also the one included in the 1977 address at the

University of Cape Town “What Being a South African Means to Me”, which, alongside the essay “A South

African Childhood: Allusions in a Landscape” (1954), hammers home a clutch of essential themes and turning

points. As regards the white subject’s symbolic rebirth or awakening into a “second consciousness”, Gordimer

argued that:

[t]he process is essentially the discovery of the lie. The great South African lie. … What comes of the immediate discovery of the lie is revelation: you cannot feel guilt for being conned. From the time I discovered that what was being concealed by my society was that blacks were people—not mine-boys, not our Lettie, but people, I had the opportunity to become what I think of as a South African. (“What Being a South African Means to Me”, 1977, in Gordimer, 2010, pp. 277-278; my italics)

Both turning the finger of accusation on the devious tendency to take racial divisions at face value, like

incontrovertible facts and received views, and wishing to redefine themselves away from over-privilege, the

writer and her fictional self are also seen as trying hard to escape the hold of their claustrophobic home. Although

the Shaws are not “townspeople” but markedly parochial “mine people”9, living on the Mine estate of an

imaginary South African Atherton—an Anglo-American enclave, as its name suggests, on the tip of the African

continent—the unsparing depiction that is offered of the place is not that different from Gordimer’s

reminiscences of Springs, the small gold-mining town in the Transvaal where she spent her childhood and

adolescence and which had developed around the ore reserve itself. Even a cursory comparison between some

passages in the novel and the macrotext of the artist’s interviews and autobiographical flashbacks gives us

insights into a panoply of similarities: the narrow, torpid life of a colonial “tribe”, the strip of burned veld, the

ravaged landscape of the polluted mine dumps in the East Rand—man-made hills of yellowish cyanide sand, dark

mounds of coal, waste matter from the blasting of underground tunnels—and the government-concession stores

9 Gordimer (“A South African Childhood: Allusions in a Landscape”, 1954, in Gordimer, 2010) thus remarked on the distinction: “The mine people and the townspeople did not by any means constitute a homogeneous population; they remained two well-defined groups. Socially, the mine people undoubtedly had the edge on the people of the town. Their social hierarchy had been set up first, and was the more rigid and powerful. There was a general manager before there was a mayor. … at each mine the G. M. was not only the leader of society but also the boss, and if one did not revere him as the first, one had to respect him as the second. … The mine officials and their wives and families lived on ‘the property’; that is, the area of ground, sometimes very large, that belonged to each mine and that included, in addition to the shaft heads and the mine offices and the hospital, a sports ground, a swimming pool, a recreation club, and the houses of the officials—all built by the mine. … At school, I… struck up a long and close friendship with the daughter of an official at one of the oldest and most important mines. So it was that I came to cross the tacit divide between the mines and the town, and to know the habitat, domestic life and protocol of the ‘mine people’” (pp. 9-10, 13). George Shaw, Helen’s father and perhaps a fictitious embodiment of the mine official mentioned above, is cast as the Assistant Secretary and, afterwards, Secretary at Atherton Proprietary Mines Limited.


on the property, where some shopkeepers generally provided for the miners’ needs.

In those days of mounting industrialization and urbanization, black migrant labourers from distant kraals all

over southern Africa were commonly employed (and exploited) in the mining districts, and carried with them the

vestiges of tribal culture and customs, including a strikingly “native look” (they used to wear earrings, dress in

blankets and cover their hair in clay). With hindsight, however, that ostensibly exotic presence must be granted its

deep sense of African belonging as opposed to the outlandish (mind)set transplanted by European settlers, whose

assumed ontological stability ironically comes down to a position on the periphery:

These men in blankets… brought directly from the tribal situation… when I began to read and think about it I realized that my sense that they were exotic was completely false. It was the other way around. I was the exotic element. (Loercher, 1979, p. 98; italics in the text).

In the novel, such a position is winkingly located in its proper perspective during Helen’s mentioned first

foray on foot across the veld, along the tar road between Mine and town and then the dust path leading to the Jew

stores. It is on this Saturday afternoon in late August that the proud, nice “princess” in kilts and hand-knitted

socks, with her shiny red hair tied with a beautiful ribbon, shall half-consciously take on the role of that foreign

white element, although still too young (she is probably nine or ten years old) and pampered to read in the “dark

brown faces” she comes across anything more than a receptive and unthinking attitude, an existential otherness

which may only find expression through the tour-de-force of a paradox steeped in prejudice: “close-eyed, sullen

with the defensive sullenness of the defenseless; noisy and merry with the glee of the innocent” (Gordimer, 2002,

p. 14). And yet, a few minutes before, Helen’s instinct of self-preservation had seemingly alerted her to the

weakness and marginality of her own status away from the familiar laager; a status that in this new heterotopic

junction is being scaled down from “high” humanity to the helplessness of an insect amid the natives’ animality:

“I went past feeling very close to the dirty battered pavement, almost as if I were crawling along it like an insect

under the noise and the press of natives” (Gordimer, 2002, p. 9).

Clearly under the sway of her emotional turmoil (cocky curiosity eventually turning to fear and revulsion),

little Helen epitomizes a presence sweeping in from a different universe and trying to overcome her cosy isolation.

She is literally taking a step across the colour bar, perhaps flinging herself into that venture with more boldness

than Gordimer ever did at her age, during the shopping expeditions downtown with Nan. Living only a few

hundred yards from the gold reserves, Nadine knew about the “dirty stores” on the road linking up their suburb in

Springs to the mine, as on

the corner of the stores there was a little café and we white kids used to wander up there to buy sweets and chewing gum. That’s perhaps my earliest awareness of black people. … I used to go up to the stores, and then the mine workers would come down from the compound. Now in those days, they still wore tribal dress. … of course we white children were always told, “Don’t hang around there. Little girls mustn’t hang around there”, and I grew up with the feeling—nobody explained really why—that because you were a girl and you were white, every black man was in some way a threat to you. (Junction Avenue Theatre Company, 1986, pp. 248-249)

The reader of The Lying Days need not wait long to see Helen hang around there, the bustling “somewhere”

counterweighing the inert and sedate “nowhere” of the colonial coterie. In an ironic reversal, it is now up to the

settlers’ catered-for perimeter—emptied like a house of mirrors—to objectify the terra nullius dimension where,

in so much colonial and travel literature, the explorers and pioneers from the West have been shown to exercise


their masculine dominion, their political, cultural and economic control as the representatives of a “superior”

nation. Gordimer’s novel dramatically turns such a script of conquest and projection on its head—with the

self-absorbed whites guarding their lifeless stronghold—and soon appeals to the motifs of female transgression

and the urge to shun any reflected duplications of the self, the obsessive watching of sameness within a stuffy

space shell. At the same time, Helen’s—a child’s—is not going to be an exploitative “act of reclamation” (Innes,

2007, p. 73) of otherness ignited by an imperialist attitude, but an authentic attempt at crossing the border

between a condition of paralysis and a life supposedly thriving elsewhere. She, in other words, begins to perceive

in filigree that connoting the land is also a stratification of “social, cultural and political spaces” (Nayar,

2010, p. 134) and that it is by coming vis-à-vis such spaces that one can hope to locate experience and sense

“rootedness”:

In my bedroom I stood before the mirror that was the middle door of the wardrobe, looking at myself. After a long time, steady and unblinking, only the sound of my breath, the face was just a face like other people’s faces met in the street. It looked at me a little longer. Suddenly I slammed the door, ran out of the passage which seemed to take up and give out the sound of each of my footsteps as if it were counting them, and through the kitchen which was noting each drip of the tap and the movement of a fly on a potato peeling. I went straight down the garden path and out of the gate into the road. … “Helen? Where you go-ing—?” A child with her hair in curlers hung over the fence… “Somewhere”, I said, not looking back. (Gordimer, 2002, pp. 5-6, 7)

Besides bearing witness to the character’s high power of observation and bent for visualizing—all elements

which call to mind young Nadine’s “eye for detail” and pitiless anatomizing of her world, as if through the

close-ups and tracking shots of a camera—the excerpt above proceeds to bring to the fore Helen’s earliest

violation of stifling patriarchal (and racist) rules. After her parents left for the tennis courts, she “betrays” them by

lying10. Instead of doing nothing and staying at home, as promised, she decides in fact to walk on her own as far as

the forbidden stores, crowded with the natives hit by social stigma, the allegedly dangerous “boys” any “Miss”

must be wary of. What needs stressing here is how in Gordimer’s narrative and semiotic imaginary this sort of

betrayal of “whitey” codes and bans—“an unwritten law so sternly upheld and generally accepted” (Gordimer,

2002, p. 4)—is part and parcel of a learning process which ought to lead to a decolonization of the mind: what the

writer would have called a second birth, a rethinking trajectory that starts taking shape when one leaves the

mother’s house with a view to breaking away from the crystal dwelling of the white race.

The protagonist will go through a kind of first test, accompanied by the creepy as well as liberating sensation

of stripping away the surface assurances of fellow-whites. True, Helen Shaw’s cognitive and ethical journey is

doomed to stop half-way across the colour line. If going in search of answers, blessed with goodwill and skeptical

of preconceived notions, the grown-up child will scarcely achieve maturity in her torn country. As indicated on a

proxemical level by her frequent withdrawing on the apartment balcony, during the hardest times of her

10 For a general investigation of the semantic isotopy revolving around the concepts (and issues) of lying, spying, betrayal, hidden knowledge or enforcement of secrecy in Gordimer’s novels, see Ettin (1993), whose study “shows how within the space of that African content, but outside it as well, she has explored thematic and literary issues of confidence and betrayal, negotiations of power, tensions of family connections and separations, the urgent compulsions of sexuality, and the narrative strategies of fiction by no means limited to that geopolitical sphere. … By exposing, by betraying, she has both uncovered the political body’s secrets and undermined its pretensions. To do the former, she seems to believe, necessarily means that one will do the latter” (pp. 3-4, 5; italics in the text).


cohabitation with Paul Clark in “The City”11, she can’t help feeling at a remove, teetering on the brink between

the abstract/ideal and actuality, ethnic allegiances and a metaphorical “second birth”, a house appendage and a

yearned-for erasure of borders. Added to these nerve-racking discrepancies are further traits reflecting poorly on

her, such as a now and then credulous or whimsical attitude12 and—a sore point that Paul often brings up—her

subterranean, ongoing dependence on her mother. The primal scene of a sheltered life tied to “mummy’s strings”

does crop up in the text at some crucial moments of Helen’s Bildung, instilling doubts about the chances she may

actually have to shake off the fetters of her upbringing. On top of that, the protagonist finds no overwhelming

inspiration in literary works or in the act of writing itself, thus veering sharply away from her author’s

personality.

Yet—there is always an adversative clause in Helen’s case, since we are faced with an identity-in-transition,

a “construction” of full selfhood—character and writer never remain in flat contradiction. When, at the end,

Helen is ready to embark on her own for England from Durban, but somehow belittles her forthcoming European

stay (together with the primacy of those cultural roots) as if it were a trifling means of escape to be followed by a

momentous return to South Africa (like the stage of an epic nostos)13, one notes a similarity with Gordimer’s

stance towards an evanescent mother country abroad and the misleading conviction that the Old Continent should

be a synonym for the “real world”. When assessing her first trip to England (in 1953, after writing The Lying

Days), the author claimed that the journey “brought an understanding of what I was, and helped me to shed the

last vestiges of colonialism. … I realized that ‘home’ was certainly and exclusively—Africa. It could never be

anywhere else” (Hurwitt, 1979 and 1980, pp. 129-130). In the following decades, she would often take up this

pivotal motif of Africanness vs. European legacies, the second term of the dyad being more and more perceived

as an Anglo-Saxon tie that English-speaking South Africans were to replace with a different, postcolonial type of

loyalty, commonality and identification, with other truths and bonds.

It is the sprouting of this dialectic—paving the way for other modes of thinking beyond prejudiced customs

11 The habit of sitting out alone on the balcony can be read as an objective correlative for a fractured consciousness and a psychological suspension between a pre-rational sense of detachment (associated with the sky or the sea) and intellectual apprehension or physicality (the street, the earth): “Sometimes when I came back to the flat earlier than Paul, I would go out onto the little balcony and sit balanced on the wall, my head against the partition which divided our flat from the one next door. Often I had not even troubled to wash or to put my things away; I simply came in, dropped to the bed what I was holding, and wandered out. … I sat on the edge of the balcony, shut out even from the flat. It was like being in a cage suspended from the invisible ceiling of the sky, and what went on in the sky was at my level. If I did not look down I could forget altogether the existence of the street, and the human perspective which is the perspective of the street, and to which, once your feet are on the ground, you are fixed” (Gordimer, 2002, pp. 286-287). After a few paragraphs, Helen also mentions “the drifting gap between the way I myself believed I was living, and the way the days themselves passed” (Gordimer, 2002, pp. 288-289), while later on her words sound more sombre: “Sitting on the balcony smoking in the sun, I thought, I am like an invalid: between the illness and the cure” (Gordimer, 2002, p. 323; italics in the text). 12 Dimitriu (2002) implicitly alludes to this facet of inconstancy and impulsiveness when recalling “Helen’s awareness of wonder… the truth of emotion” pervading “the lunar Helen (the etymological root being ‘moon’)” (p. 44). 13 Oddly enough, Cooke (1985) does not read any effectively positive intent in Helen’s closing assertion, which in my view sounds instead as particularly resolute: “My mind was working with great practicalness, and I thought to myself: Now it’s all right. I’m not practicing any sort of self-deception any longer. And I’m not running away. Whatever it was I was running away from—the risk of love? the guilt of being white? the danger of putting ideals into practice?—I’m not running away from now because I know I’m coming back here” (Gordimer, 2002, p. 376; my italics). In the critic’s words, Helen “is leaving for England, she says, but vows to return. The narrative itself makes this claim seem unconvincing; … Helen protests too much. She ends a solitary figure without a cultural role, running in search of a land her own mother has so often described as ‘home’” (Cooke, 1985, p. 60). Chapter 3 in Cooke’s study (“Landscapes as Outward Signs in the Early Novels”, pp. 91-130) is however more consonant with the analytical approach that I have adopted in this article.


or repression—that we can read between the lines in Helen’s prospect of coming back to South Africa and

especially in her comments on the extraneousness of English books and stories (with their set characters and the

marvellously green or snowy landscapes) to the southern hemisphere. For her part, Gordimer was to expand

further on the question of exoticism, holding that the far-out and unfamiliar features emerging in the texts she

read involved in actual fact Europe and America, while the realities at home, a territory at the bottom of the

geographical map, were resistant to those grids and deserved to find a voice of their own. In one of the 1994

Charles Eliot Norton Lectures, she again resorted to the metaphor of the scouring eye—of spying, prying into the

hidden in quest of startling truths—to account for the writer’s “intrusive” and interpretative acumen:

My comprehension of life had been kept so narrow, everything in it painted white… once free of that, I had the writer’s healthy selfish instinct to keep open the multiple vision that the fly’s eye of the writer had brought me. (“That Other World That Was the World”, in Gordimer, 1995, pp. 130-131).

A patently common denominator with Helen is to be found in the character’s lack of interest in European

fairy tales, since to her “stories of children living the ordinary domestic adventures of the upper-middle-class

English family… were weird and exotic enough” (Gordimer, 2002, p. 11) and she never skimmed through a

children’s book in which she could detect a feasible portrayal of life. The following passage, taken from one of

the peak moments of her expedition outside the Mine estate, is even more telling, as far as the “quick eye” is

concerned:

My heart ran fast and trembly, like the heart of a kitten I had once held. I held my buttocks stiffly together as I went along, looking, looking. But I felt my eyes were not quick enough, and darted here and there at once, fluttering over everything, unable to see anything singly and long enough. (Gordimer, 2002, p. 10)

In this reflection resides a metaliterary clue that allows us to approach The Lying Days as, among other

things, a training ground for Gordimer’s coming to grips with the art and strategies of novel-writing. The

character’s stare clearly reminds us of the author’s “professional gaze” and acts of visual appropriation,

originating in the years of her childhood and adolescence through jesting mimicry alongside close observation,

and then developing into a more complex attitude related to scrutinizing, eavesdropping, disclosure, and a

consciously exegetic framework. As already underscored by Green (1988), what the protagonist “discovers

during her brief truancy can also be read as a statement by the novelist of what it means to write fiction in South

Africa in the 1950s” (p. 543). The moment the girl arrogates herself the right to look is “analogous to the

novelist’s seizure of this material, ugly and not previously recorded in print” (p. 544).

The “White Cocoon” and the Outside

In this paragraph further light will be thrown on “The Mine” and the dynamics of Helen’s short flight away

from her white-cocoon world and “matchbox life”—a circumscribed, predictable existence—towards a

mysterious somewhere that seems to be absolutely worth contemplating in order to establish one’s commitment

to the land and stop living on a diaphanous surface. Hence the efforts to record, grasp, and piece together that raw

material as it meets the protagonist’s eye, roving like a TV camera over the surrounding geography and its

staggering concoction of traits. The camera-eye paradigm is far from new in connection with Gordimer’s early

fiction, since it found a first theoretical basis in an essay by Sachs (1959)—who awakened readers to the author’s


striking memory and keen eye for a flood of revealing details—and then in Abrahams’s speculations on the

writer’s illuminating intelligence and “transparent ego” (1960) as well as through Maclennan’s “vacuum pump”

metaphor (1989). Albeit impressed, these critics also felt ill at ease with the clinical coldness of Gordimer’s

photographic eye and cerebral jigsaws, and hoped for a stylistic and emotional growth in which the panning-shot

lens or searchlight of the spectator would be replaced by the X-ray camera of psychological insight and open

confrontation with the Colour question.

What might be stressed more is however the hermeneutic component implicit in these primal efforts to fix

the essentials of an outdoor environment, with Helen/Nadine endeavouring to draw on the life swarming around

her. If her unaccustomed “fresh eye” cannot but follow the threads of metonymic accretion, enumeration without

classification and an eclectic yoking of particulars, the effect is all the more powerful on the narratee, who is

nudged into deciphering multiethnic place simultaneously with Helen the child. Readers are somehow asked to

elbow their way through an expanding canvas, a paratactic array of heterogeneous elements which await

systematization in an intelligible syntax and a mature field of vision: an order that, instead of falling within the

static categories of amplificatio, redundancy and the ornamental (the classic domain of description as a

spatialized ancilla narrationis), should be viewed as explanatory and informative in a broadly Balzacian sense14.

Gordimer’s descriptive strategies in this part of the novel can in sum be defined as dialectically connoted and

functional, since their analogical and even imploding texture is meant to convey the perceptions of the

experiencing (and bewildered) subject in their step-by-step progression. Here is an excerpt from the ten-page

episode concerning the walk to the stores, in which one soon notices the absence of an encompassing, regulating

register and cartographic coordinates or taxonomies vs. a potentially endless, rambling catalogue of unfamiliar

presences and awkward features just popping up along the way, as it were:

I slowed. But to turn round and go back to the Mine would be to have been nowhere. Lingering in the puffy dust, I made slowly for the stores huddled wall to wall in a line on the veld up ahead.

There were dozens of natives along the path. Some lay on the burned grass, rolled in their blankets, face down, as if they were dead in the sun. Others squatted and stood about shouting… Orange peels and pith were thrown about, and a persistent fly kept settling on my lip. But I went on rather faster and determined, waving my hand impatiently before my face and watching a white man who stood outside one of the stores with his hands on his hips while a shopboy prized open a big packing case. … Fowls with the quick necks of scavengers darted about between my trembling legs; the smeary windows of the shops were deep and mysterious with jumble that, as I stopped to look, resolved into shirts and shoes and braces and beads, yellow pomade in bottles, mirrors and mauve socks and watch chains, complicated as a mosaic… There were people there, shadowy, strange to me as the black men with the soft red inside their mouths

14 According to Cooke (1985), so “pronounced is Gordimer’s skill in creating a sense of place through the accumulation of surface details that her early fiction recalls no novelist so much as Balzac” (pp. 92-93). As regards the element of realist appraisal, Lomberg (1976) also claimed that in “her first novel, The Lying Days, Nadine Gordimer established a pattern which all the other novels were to follow; it has particular applicability to that Bildungsroman, but it signifies a process inherent in her overall vision of life, and is reinforced by her style, which embraces two large principles that, in simple terms, one can call particularising and generalising. The former involves a capacity for microscopic observations of human behaviour, the latter the capacity for discerning general features and principles objectively, and from a distance. The former is allied to a remarkable sensitivity which can capture a nuance of gesture, a shade of feeling; the latter proceeds from an analytic perceptiveness which can succinctly remark the general features which characterise an individual, or descry the larger principles manifested in specific instances” (p. 32). I obviously agree with Lomberg when he adds that the seeds of Helen’s development “are contained in the first chapter of the novel; and, significantly, the first incident in the novel is an act of rebellion on Helen’s part. … If the walk to the tennis courts may be seen to prefigure Helen’s growth to independence of attitude—a determination to look at the world herself and make her own judgements about it—the walk also reveals her extraordinary sensitivity to the world around her” (p. 34).


showing as they opened in the concentration of spending money. There was even a woman, in a flowered alpaca apron, coming out to throw something into the pavement crowd. (Gordimer, 2002, pp. 9-10)

Lying behind what Barthes (1986) called the “reality effect” or “referential illusion” (p. 148) linked to the

use of descriptive details and notations in much realistic literature is Gordimer’s carrying out of an experiment in

extra-textual witnessing and truth-telling, a “veritable tour de force” (Clingman, 1986, p. 31): no simplistically

conceived transposition of reality or “verbal mirror” of experience, but a virtually faithful representation enacted

in accordance with what she believed to be a manageable correspondence between linguistic signs and the

worldly, lexis and entities or phenomena. If lacking in cohesion and elaborate transitions, Helen’s empirical and

descriptive testimony proceeds to mark a field of environmental encodings, social significances, and

constructions: her survey is a discontinuous and sometimes chaotic mapping that calls for careful arrangement

and sets the agenda for a deeper, future understanding. The telling fact, the layering of “significant details” are

nonetheless hard to miss—let’s just think of the panning-shot description quoted above, with the natives’

blankets, the fly and putrescent oranges, the synecdochic “jumble”, the red inside the black men’s mouths—so

that the worldview that is pushed into being can be said to waver between the poles of mimetic transparency and

semantic opacity, in line with the idea of a gradual structuring of experience across the colour bar and its

segregated imaginary.

No need for such a structuring in the regimented circle of the English-owned Mine estate in Atherton,

pervaded by a sense of atrophy and obsessively regulated by codes, race and class distinctions, inescapable social

rituals15. This is the environment of which Gordimer’s “candid camera” and its “marvelous quick shots” (Haugh,

1974, p. 94) provide the most unvarnished, merciless depiction: from the memorable incipit—where Helen’s

defiance of her parents and the Saturday “tennis party” already offers evidence of her wish to transcend family

strictures and complacency16—to the paragraphs following the crossing of the veld strip towards the stores. In the

second half of “The Mine” we take in fact a closer look at the apathetic life of the white community and its

cocoon-like habits, timed to the daily round of men’s duties and the drawing-room chattering, charity work,

household chores of the wives (unfailingly helped by native girls). All this is laced together with their leisure

activities, cake sales, dances and decent little treats, like the tasting of scones and tea laid on an embroidered cloth,

a ritual which ironically closes and trivializes the episode of a strike organized by 200 black miners,

demonstrating in front of the Compound Manager’s house because of an unwelcome change in their diet (the

15 As Clingman (1986) lucidly observes, an “extraordinarily strict hierarchy governs the Mine estate on which the young Helen grows up; the novel details its written and unwritten codes. For the men, the pyramidal chain of command on the Mine is repeated in every aspect of their social and economic lives, down to the respective sizes of the houses to which they are assigned, and their access to private use of black workers as ‘garden boys’ to care for their lawns. For the women a ritualized and formalized pattern governs the cycle of their entire existence; after school they are expected to attend a secretarial course, work for six months, get married (preferably to Mine men), have children, go to tea parties and preside over the same pattern in the younger generation” (p. 28). 16 See especially how her relationship with Jess Shaw, her mother, is vividly conjured up through a studiedly selected range of physical and behavioural focalizations related to a worn-out bourgeois script: “My mother was pinning her hair ready for her tennis cap, looking straight back at herself in the mirror. Up-down, went her shoulders. ‘I don’t know. She’s not pleased with anything I suggest’. But her indifference was not real. She followed me out into the garden where I stood in the warm still winter afternoon. ‘Now what are you going to do? Do you want to come with Mommy and Daddy and bring your book?’ New powder showed white where the sun shone full on her nose and chin; … In a sense of power, I did not answer; my mother’s face waited, as if I had spoken and she had not quite heard. ‘Eh? What are you going to do?’ ‘Nothing’, I said, richly sullen. I saw the bedroom windows jerked in by an unseen hand; my father was ready, too. They were both waiting, their afternoon dependent upon me” (Gordimer, 2002, p. 3).


strikers are seen as easily subsiding when granted their Sunday ration of beer).

While delving into this rarefied atmosphere, infused with lavender-water and Eau-de-Cologne perfumes,

populated by “white figures” with “pink faces” (Gordimer, 2002, p. 15) arranged as though in a painting and

living in houses of dark brick with similar windows and low roofs, the narrator/director generally assembles her

shots sequentially and with the gem-polisher’s panache, in a meticulous order that mirrors the only too familiar

hierarchy of that small world. Everything changes when Helen projects herself from the orbit of this controlling

vision into the ramified horizons of an abrasively novel and baffling landscape, that is to say when her

metaphorical camera is pointed towards the “outside”. What still needs highlighting in this connection is a focal

incident characterizing the little girl’s Saturday excursion (she will go on other outings with her parents, but none

of them will have the same impact as that earliest, solitary venture). This event should be considered as the climax

of the textual unity concerning the stores, and perhaps of the whole first part of The Lying Days, for it

immortalizes in a nutshell a moment of bare, dislocating confrontation between the white subject and otherness,

in a way that is both epiphanically connoted and scoffingly recalcitrant.

In her painful attempt at stringing together a heap of local particulars, Helen frequently resorts to visual

memory—as previously evidenced—but also appeals to hearing and smell, to a “lavish use of synesthesia”

(Cooke, 1985, p. 53) that strengthens her narrativized description by means of additional references to music and

shouting, the nasty smells of burned mealies, rotting oranges, sweat, urine and animal entrails. Now definitely a

long way off the well-kept, white family shaw—her ethnic “small wood”, in the literal sense of the word—the

protagonist explicitly reminds the (European) reader of the little heroes in the only transmigrated fairy tale

capable of piquing her curiosity, namely Hansel and Gretel. Like the two siblings, “anonymous, nobody’s

children, in the woods” attracted to “the gingerbread house” (Gordimer, 2002, p. 11), little Nell of The Lying

Days will fall under the spell of the old anthropophagous witch, whose strangely edible cottage is here africanized

and substituted by a native medicine shop (is there perhaps a dig at poor little Nell in Dickens’s The Old Curiosity

Shop, too?).

Watching the exotic knick-knack through the window, Helen starts to feed her “hungry eyes” and take in the

spectacle of “dusty lions’ tails, … piles of wizened seeds, … flaking gray roots and strange teeth” (Gordimer,

2002, p. 11), until the targets of her voyeurism seem to become animated and thereby dangerous, voracious in

their turn. After comparing that hodgepodge of oddities to the winking eye of a crocodile looking like an

inoffensive log, she is actually faced with a living being, the master of camouflage par excellence:

I pressed nearer the window and made a spy hole with my hand against the rheumy glass to see in better, and as I did so my eye was caught by another eye. Something was alive in the window: a chameleon, crouched motionless… One eye in the wrinkled socket looked ahead, the other swiveled back fixed on me. Ah-h! I cried, … a long thin tongue like one of those rude streamers you blow out in people’s faces at Christmas shot unrolled and curled back again with a fly coiled within it. The thin mouth was closed, a rim of pale green. Both eyes turned backward looking at me. (Gordimer, 2002, pp. 12-13)

If the doomed witch in Hansel and Gretel had very weak eyes, this creature is both a personification of

adaptability and sensitive blending into its surroundings—precisely what the human protagonist still lacks—and

a symbol of awareness, given its legendary eyesight, endowed with a 360-degree arc of vision and orienting itself

through daily and ultraviolet light. With its rotating and separately mobile eyes, the chameleon can


simultaneously focus ahead on its environment and back towards the fair-skinned human stranger, whose stare is

thus patently outfought. The fly coiled within the long sticky tongue also comically revives the spectre of

cannibalism, since Helen had previously felt like an insect crawling under the press of natives. As though sensing

and translating these fears into a performing act, and determined to check the spectator’s reactions to the show,

the animal behind the glass—a synecdoche for a flickering and polychromatic dimension unfolding in the

veld—does away with its victim and then turns both eyes on a level with the child.

The climactic episode of the chameleon’s brazen, returning look stands as a cameo, if not a mise en abyme,

of Helen’s first experience off the white cocoon’s beaten track: she takes quite a long leap, makes the most of her

power of observation, but must also come to terms with the limits of her apprehension and the fact that this

scattered social geography is anything but blind or pliable, and does not lend itself to a smooth reconstruction into

a whole. If temporarily overwhelmed—the sexually tinged image of a urinating Mine boy, seen from behind, will

soon propel her to retrace her steps to the tennis-club shelter and parental security—she has at least perceived the

living and (re)acting presence of the Other. She gets home safely, as Hansel and Gretel did, but with no glittering

trophy.

Conclusion

Looking and being looked at: this is the semantic circuitry that often underpins the narrative development of

The Lying Days, throughout a milling around of surface impressions and a gradually clearer focusing, within

moments of cognitive assimilation and disclosure of the suppressed. Seeing and watching, and especially the

“electric contact” created when an eye is “caught by another eye”, can be considered here as primary modes of

perceptual grasp, achieving (self-)awareness and locating experience. This is of course true for Helen the child,

but keeps on playing a relevant role in the next stages of her growth, too, until the very end of the story, when she

is made to witness the killing of a rioter by the police in a black township, during the 1950 May Day strike. Sitting

in the car with Laurie, while searching for Paul, who might be in danger, she unwillingly becomes the spectator of

that shockingly violent death:

There were more shots, shots and their echo, clearing a split second of silence in the space of the retort. The man with the stones looked up with a movement of surprise, as if someone had tapped him on the shoulder. Then he fell, the stones spilling before him. I knew I had never seen anyone fall like that before. … I was pulled away with my eyes still fixed on the only thing that I saw: the man lying in the road. (Gordimer, 2002, p. 333)

At the same time, one cannot deny that this momentously dramatic event represents a psychological

breaking-point for the protagonist, who, talking later about this to Joel Aaron—her dear Jewish friend and a

different kind of authorial projection, giving voice to a more comprehensive moral conscience and a dialectical

frame of mind, capable of seeing through people—will regretfully complain that it “happened around me, not to

me. Even the death of a man; behind a wall of glass” (Gordimer, 2002, p. 359).

The shop window materializing the distance between the chameleon and the child, the window of the

immobilized car (a protective shell in itself) and the metaphorical wall of glass that still keeps Helen the woman

severed from her South African connections: these are again significant, visually rendered details through which

Gordimer lays bare her protagonist’s failures. Discouragement and unbreakable barriers are however one side of

the coin. The other is epitomized by the inalienable gaze ready to scrutinize and decipher, until it possibly reaches


the hermeneutic stage of “spelling… out feature by feature” (Gordimer, 2002, p. 215), the way Helen does with

the face of Paul, the only man she has deeply fallen in love with. As Clingman (1986) puts it, if close observation

is “a precondition of Gordimer’s historical consciousness” (p. 8), then The Lying Days notably manages to take in

“a veritable wealth of social observation of the world with which it engages, and this is also the first level at

which it tells a ‘history from the inside’” (p. 27).

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Nadine Gordimer (pp. 31-45). Boston: G. K. Hall & Co. Maclennan, D. (1989). The vacuum pump: The fiction of Nadine Gordimer. Upstream, 7(1), 30-33. Magarey, K. (1974). Cutting the jewel: Facets of art in Nadine Gordimer’s short stories. In R. Smith (Ed.), Critical essays on Nadine

Gordimer (pp. 45-74). Boston: G. K. Hall & Co. Marchant, P., Kitchen, J., & Rubin, S. S. (1986). A voice from a troubled land: A conversation with Nadine Gordimer. In N.

Topping Bazin, & M. Dallman Seymour (Eds.), Conversations with Nadine Gordimer (pp. 253-263). Jackson and London: University Press of Mississippi.

Nayar, P. K. (2010). Postcolonialism: A guide for the perplexed. London and New York: Continuum. Newman, J. (1988). Nadine Gordimer. London and New York: Routledge. Pettersson, R. (1995). Nadine Gordimer’s one story of a state apart. Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell. Ross, A. (1965). Nadine Gordimer: A writer in South Africa. In N. Topping Bazin, & M. Dallman Seymour (Eds.), Conversations

with Nadine Gordimer (pp. 33-42). Jackson and London: University Press of Mississippi. Sachs, B. (1959). Nadine Gordimer: Writer with the eye of a camera. In South African personalities and places (pp. 83-89).

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Smith, R. (1990). Critical essays on Nadine Gordimer. Boston: G. K. Hall & Co. Topping Bazin, N., & Dallman Seymour, M. (1990). Conversations with Nadine Gordimer. Jackson and London: University Press

of Mississippi. Walters, M. (1987). Writers in conversation: Nadine Gordimer. In N. Topping Bazin, & M. Dallman Seymour (Eds.), Conversations

with Nadine Gordimer (pp. 285-298). Jackson and London: University Press of Mississippi.


The Social Construction of City: Taipei in Human Condition

Chia-ching Lin

Yu Da University of Science and Technology, Miaoli,

Taiwan

Feng-chia Li

Jen-teh College of Medicine, Nursing and Management,

Miaoli, Taiwan

This paper tries to discuss everyday life and its relation to urban experiences in different aspects of Taipei City in

Human Condition, performed by Greenray Theatre in Taiwan since 2001. The serial play, including six parts,1

displays the life of ordinary people, primarily the middle and labor classes. Historically, Human Condition tells about

Taiwanese’ life from the period of Japanese occupation in Taiwan to the present day. The public’s everyday life and

their cultural activities are delicately represented on the stage. Human Condition especially focuses on people living in

Taipei city, the capital and most populated place of the country. In different historical periods and political

atmospheres, the characters’ economic and social activities, nostalgic feelings about the past, passions for love and

friendship, and awakening of fighting for humanity and freedom construct their social positions as well as establish

different aspects of Taipei. We can see the transformation of the city by means of people’s social relationships and

economic activities. Drawing on Henri Lefebvre’s concept of everyday life as rhythmic movement and spatial practice

in the process of urbanization, this paper aims at studying the characters’ social practice that defines their position and

formation of identity within place. Human Condition unravels the characters’ connection and disconnection from

place in each period of Taiwan’s historical and political conditions. The life in Taipei differs from each historical,

economic, and political system that defines people’s attitudes and perspectives toward this land. The characters within

every historical background and political system tell us what Taipei represents and symbolizes to people. The

transition of Taipei produces impacts on people that endow them with different personalities and perspectives toward

life. As globalization invades into this city, the definition of human in city life has to be reconsidered. As a place of

encounter, accumulation of cultural hybridity in Taipei formulates multiple dispositions and social structures. By

analyzing the characters represented in every historical period of Taipei, this article interrogates to what extent of

“in-place” or “out-of-place” of the characters is interpreted in this space and, in the progress of urbanized development

of Taipei, what the value is to affect and connect people’s relationships.

Keywords: Human Condition, Greenray Theatre, Taipei, human, city life

Introduction

Human Condition, created by Nien-jen Wu, a famous playwright and director in Taiwan, is a serial play

including six parts, staged by Greenray Theatre since 2001. This play presents the middle-class life in different

Chia-ching Lin, Ph.D., assistant professor, Department of Applied English, Yu Da University of Science and Technology. Feng-chia Li, assistant professor, Department of Information Management, Jen-teh College of Medicine, Nursing and

Management. 1 The latest part six is going to be on stage in the end of 2014.

DAVID PUBLISHING

D

THE SOCIAL CONSTRUCTION OF CITY: TAIPEI IN HUMAN CONDITION

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historical periods of Taiwan, from Japanese occupation to the present day. Taking Taipei as its background living

space, the play shows how people deal with their relationships with family and friends in the historical transition

of this city. Immigrants from Mainland China learn to face conflicts and come to compromise with other races.

Attitudes towards life are disclosed, influenced by different historical, cultural, political, social, and economic

activities.

This article investigates Taipei in different periods offered in this play. By employing the first four parts as

the examples, the author explores the urban experiences of everyday life in this city. In light of Henri Lefebvre’s

concepts on space and city and other related theories, it argues that humanity and morality are emphasized even

though the rapid transformation and development of the city change the structure of the society and people’s

social relationships.

Theory on Space

Lefebvre thinks that space is full of social practices. It is produced and productive, “simultaneously material

object or product, the medium of social relations, and the reproducer of material objects and social relations”

(Gottdiener, 1985, p. 129). It is an abstraction which is composed of discourses and ideologies. In order to

understand space, we need to know how space is produced as a “multimanifested concrete abstraction”

(Gottdiener, 1985, p. 129). Space is an abstraction, enclosed by differences discourses and ideologies in which

the domination is thus produced to control our everyday life. It requires a dialectical point of view to grasp space

since it is an abstraction.

To appropriate space is to endow it as meanings. Space is not fixed but unstable. Lefebvre’s account of space

is connected to social elements; the appropriation of space is influenced by political, economic, social, and

cultural activities. The production of space is, contended by Lefebvre, “spatializing a social activity” (Stanek,

2011, p. 103). Space with triad dimensional meanings is discussed in Lefebvre’s writing in which he regards

space as different meanings based on the practical and symbolic usages given by those who organize it. He sees

capitalism as the important element of increasing uneven distribution and urbanization. The

domination-subordination relationship is in the exercise of power over space by those who control the capital.

City is an instrument for capitalists’ production and reproduction as well as for homogeneity under global

economic activities. City space, as Harvey contends, is a space with materials and social matters. The city itself is

“a locus and a stabilizer of accumulation and its contradictions” (Harvey, 1973, pp. 203, 216). People’s life is

guided by the rhythm of capitalism. Modernization implies commodification in everyday life. Thus Lefebvre

proposes dialectic means on everyday life because our everyday experience has been dominated and ossified in

the development of capitalism. In the relations of production and reproduction, humans and their labor are

alienated. People do not respond to any enforcement or difference in their living experience. Lefebvre suggests

that everyday life, the essence of space, should be seen as a conglomeration of encounters and differences. The

everyday practice should be concerned about differentiation and de-alienation by each moment. Lefebvre takes

everyday life is composed of rhythmic moments where people deal with their repetitive social practices. In these

recurrences, differences are found and for Lefebvre, the critique and correction of everyday life will lead to a

revolution. By supposing space as an abstraction, Lefebvre regards everyday life as a system full of signs and

symbols that construct cultural forms and discourses, making the world collaged by fragmental pieces and


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moments. To study the signs and symbols, Lefebvre points out, is to have critique and reflection of modernization

and capitalism imposed on our living space. Lefebvre thinks that the space should be a dynamic power that

continuously creates new and unpredictable conflicts for people to overcome. Multiplicity and the “right to

difference” should be emphasized when we want to move on. In Lefebvre’s words, city is a place of “encounter,

of gatherings and of jouissance” (Lefebvre, 1996, p. 27). The encounters and gatherings of city lead to various

aspects of everyday life that raises many ideas and discourses. City is an artistic work, produced by its multiple

activities and social relationships. Therefore, Lefebvre emphasizes that differences should be respected and from

that we find the possibility of revolution to improve the space we live so that we can restore to a more humane

way of life in the face of cold capitalism and its homogenized, commodified and exchange-valued consumer

society.

Brief Introduction of Human Condition

Part one of Human Condition was first staged in 2001. It is a comedy started by the female leading character,

A-mei, a high school student whose family is one of the typical Taiwanese middle-class families during the

economic prosperity of Taiwan. It is an era that Taiwanese people were crazy for Liu-he lottery, an illegal

gambling activity. A-mei, after school, has to use the computer to make the bets for her neighbors. Hilariously,

her father, as a village chief, claims that it is a “service” for his villagers. Obsessed within the lottery, her father

asks A-mei alone to worship her passed grandmother on Tomb-sweeping Day, a traditional festival when people

worship their ancestors. After A-mei comes back from the cemetery, she is possessed by the grandmother’s spirit.

In A-mei’s body, the grandmother, Tsuru, tries to instruct A-mei’s father to do the correct thing for the family.

She also wants to accomplish one wish when she was alive: expressing her gratitude for the man, Katsu, who

helped her after her husband died. Because of Tsuru’s return, the misunderstanding between mother and son or

friends in the community is compromised.

The second part of Human Condition, subtitled as She and the Men in Her Life, starts from the end of

Japanese occupation to the modern time in Taipei. The 228 Event, the violent conflict between Kuomintang2 and

Taiwanese people, unravels the story of the leading female character, Yuki, whose family is closely related to

Japan authority during the occupation. After the withdrawal of Japan government, for enlarging the family

business, Yuki’s father asks her to marry to the so-called “half-Han people”: originally being Taiwanese, they

resided in Mainland China and came back to Taiwan in 1949, when Kuomintang army was defeated by Chinese

Communist Party. For keeping the promise to protect those victims who were buried by her and her mother

during the 228 Event in the backyard of the house, Yuki insists to maintain the completion of the house instead of

selling it despite of her husband and son’s bad intention of trying to make an exchange just for self-interests in

business and political relationships.

The third part is about Taiwan’s progressing in heavy industry in 1970s. Three young men from the

countryside come to Taipei for better job opportunities. They all love the girl, A-ling, who later is attacked by the

factory owner. One of the young men, A-rong, is put into jail for killing the factory owner. A-chia, one of the

young men, marries A-ling who is pregnant because of the rape. Another one, A-sheng, pretending to be A-ling,

2 Kuomintang is literally Chinese National People’s Party.


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writes letters to A-rong. After a few years passed, the characters come back together, memorizing the old time.

Part four shows modern Taipei by presenting two sisters’ stories. Mei-nu, the older sister, is optimistic and

kind-hearted. Mei-chen, the younger sister, is pessimistic, always complaining about life although she earns more

money and has higher social position than her sister. Mei-chen disdains Mei-nu not being aggressive. However,

when Mei-nu has a happy love life, Mei-chen feels jealous and even tries to ruin it. Mei-nu in the end does not

blame her but emphasizes the importance of responsibility for family and friends.

“Taipei” in Human Condition

Being “the man who is good at telling stories”, Director Wu takes the ordinary people as the characters in his

plays. The people’s life is the reflection of the development of Taipei. This article tends to find what Taipei is in

the characters in the four serial works. Through the characters’ behaviors and thoughts, Taipei is defined in its

different historical and political periods; its value and influence on the characters reflect the meaning of humans

in this city with multiple cultural customs and economic activities. Differences among the people in Taipei are

caused by the transformation of the city, including political policy, economic development, and social

relationships. The following sections will be concerned respectively with differences in several aspects of the city,

taking the serial plays of Human Condition as the discussion.

Differences in the Voices to be Heard: Human Condition 1 and 4

In the play, some voice is desired to be heard by others. The background of part one is around 2000 when

computer technology plays an important role in the industry and economic activities of Taiwan. Internet users are

increasing and their lives are dependent on computers. A-mei, the leading female character, complains that

computer technology has been part of her family daily life. She is forced to use the computer to play gamble for

her father and the neighbors (Wu, 2004, p. 22). The underground gamble activities, in part one, are also practiced

through computers. However, virtual technology causes barrier and estrangement among people when they are

used to talk by the Internet instead of face-to-face communication and written words. We can see that the poetry

demonstration in buses, also mentioned in the first scene, an activity held by the Taipei city government in order

to stress the importance and beauty of words, implies that language has lost its original function. The poetry

demonstration represents the culture in the urban city, implying that among the silent atmosphere in the public

space, people try to identify themselves with what the poetry describe about their attitude toward the city and

everyday life. More and more voices are hidden yet desire to be heard.

A-mei’s deceased grandmother, Tsuru, tries to express her appreciation for the man, Katsu, who helped her

and unravel the misconception when her son blames that she embarrassed him in front of his friends in his

childhood. Being a ghost, she can express her feelings and complete her wish only by using her granddaughter’s

body. The body here becomes a space with function, offering a bridge linking to the secular world. The body is

produced with spatiality that interacts with the other spaces. In the bodily space, Tsuru confronts conflicts: she

feels amazed when she sees Katsu on TV, who has become an influential entrepreneur in the world. She is

struggling about paying a visit since Katsu and the outer world are both different from what she recognizes.

Tsuru’s contradictive feelings are diminished as the granddaughter instructs her to the new technology and skills

with the development of the society. The body she possesses offers the bridge to access to the outer world as well

as to break the ice with her son. Also, the granddaughter’s generation gap with her father is eliminated by Tsuru,


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using the body as an intermediary space. More importantly, Tsuru’s voice is heard; it represents another intrusion

to the present life by disclosing misunderstanding to the past events and social inequality in the hierarchical

society. It also unfolds people’s greediness and ambitious for fame and fortune under the rapid economic

development. During the decade between 1990 and 2000, Taipei is constructed as a place of production of

various works, making an extremely rapid development by the guidance of technology. Everyday life is

composed by multiple social practices and production of relations, including political, economic, social, and

cultural activities. Tsuru’s reincarnation in the young granddaughter’s body proposes a reverberation that

capitalism has reorganized our living place, with its own discourse that dominates us.

The fourth part delineates a more capitalistic world. Taipei in this part has been developed into a modern and

globalized city. Commercial business and more complicated personal interrelationships develop and display the

landscape of this city. The younger sister, Mei-chen, is always the one who tries to control everything. She is the

typical character defined by the capitalism in the social relations. She identifies herself within the spatial

segregation of different classes, considering that the old and traditional customs should be dissolved. She wants

to draw the line from her sister, Mei-nu, who stands for the proletariat class. When Mei-chen accidentally sees

Mei-nu working as a contract garbage collector, she pretends that she does not know her (Wu, 2011, p. 65).

Furthermore, Mei-chen tries to control everyday life including Mei-nu’s clothing; she dislikes Mei-nu’s dress,

thinking it rustic. Discarding old and traditional thoughts, Mei-chen attaches to what she thinks modern and

advanced concept.3

Mei-chen even plays the dominant role in others’ relationships. She destroys Mei-nu’s love relationship

with the doorman of the apartment. She even conducts the arrangement and plan of the apartment, trying to

mortgage it because she thinks there is a better opportunity of developing more business apart from the country.

Though being dominated by Mei-chen, who represents the leading discourse of the modern urban space,

Mei-nu finally maintains her space. Compared to Mei-chen who focuses on the exchange value of space and

always disregards the base of tradition and value of family, even trying to sell the apartment for more investment

outside the country, Mei-nu insists on her modest life; she is not so ambitious for a great business and moving

forward to the so-called upper-class life. Stable and secure life is enough to her for home is a place with

“memories, imagings and dreams” (Cresswell, 2004, p. 24). In the end of the play, the apartment is still the base

for Mei-nu’s internal recognition of everyday life. Mei-chen finally fails to control the place and continues an

unstable life. Feeling irritated, she starts to question what she has been educated since her childhood:

I am always expected to be obedient and to get the best grades and achievement since childhood so that I have to subside and restrict my internal emotion. I have no courage to try any interesting thing. Being a student with only best grades and expectations from parents, there are rivals who compete with me all the time. I have no friends. When my achievement satisfies others, then what can I get? (Wu, 2011, p. 106)

What attitudes Mei-chen takes toward life is based on material value. For better material life and higher

exchange value, she constantly pursues changes and controls others by dominating the materials, departing from

humanity and virtues. However, her controlling desire declines due to Mei-nu’s insistence on preserving family

3 On page 35, Mei-chen is angry with Mei-nu’s insistence on joining their uncle’s funeral. She thinks it would be find if they just send some flowers to express condolence without being present. Mei-chen reproaches the relatives, including Mei-nu, as old-fashioned and stubborn, who live in the twentieth century but deal with things by the eighteenth century style.


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as the supporting basis of everything in life. At the end, Mei-nu’s passion for personal love is turned into great

philanthropy that tolerates Mei-chen’s misbehavior. Mei-chen’s aggressive and ambitious voice is overwhelmed

by Mei-nu’s old-fashioned but humane thinking and life style.

Differences in Transference of Political Power: Human Condition 2

The historical time of Human Condition 2 in the first half part is from Japanese occupation of Taiwan to

KMT4 flee from Mainland China in 1949. This play takes Yuki as the leading character to represent the

transformation of political condition during this period. Yuki, raised by Japanese education, confronts the huge

change when the sovereignty of Taiwan is transferred to KMT. Tamsui River in the play is the primary and

important role in the history of Taipei city. It is the place that people, including the aborigines and the immigrants,

start their original connection and relationship with Taipei. Yuki buried her compatriots who were killed in the

violent 228 Event in the backyard beside the river, and guards them until her death. She feels that she has the

responsibility to take care of her country fellowmen to protect them from abuse and humiliation of KMT armies.

Besides the deceased, Yuki spends most of her life protecting her family. In order to prolong the family’s life and

social position, her marriage has to be linked with Mainlanders whose power is the dominant practice in Taiwan

since 1949. Yuki’s life is encountering in three periods: Japanese occupation, KMT ruling, and the modern

urbanized Taipei. The three periods contain different historical background, political domains, economic and

social activities that influence the development of the landscape. The political transformation brings chaos and

turbulence that destroys the original system and renews/rebuilds different one. People in this city have to

accustom themselves in changing their way of life. Facing transitions, Yuki has to change her language into

Mandarin instead of her mother dialect and Japanese so that she can survive under the strict dialect policy ruled

by the authority. Besides, when urbanization is greatly developed in Taipei by advanced technology, Yuki learns

to use electronic devices to get close to her grandson. She even learns to speak some English phrases that her

grandson can understand.

Yet, Yuki insists on some value that should not be diminished. Sense of morality to the dead buried under

her house and responsibility for guarding her forefathers’ property, including the house, are going to be kept even

when she has financial problems. This play describes three periods of Taiwan by presenting Yuki’s life. Yuki is

the center that connects every event and relationship throughout the play. The three periods are constructed based

on patriarchal historical discourse. People’s everyday life constructed by ideology, economic and cultural

activities are affected and handled by each political authority. Interpreted by Yuki, the female character, it reveals

not only man’s ruling over the relations of production in space but also woman’s subordinated position. Woman

is taken as commercial goods such as Yuki’s marriage, an exchange for man and the family’s stable social status

when trading with Mainlanders. Facing the transformative society, Yuki has to adapt herself to the changes. She

is, as Lefebvre’s thoughts on woman in everyday life, “the most alienated” individual while “the most active

resistor” (Highmore, 2002a, p. 126). Yuki is obedient to her parents to help the victims of the 228 Event and

accept the planned marriage that brings profit to the family’s business and social position. Yet, she has developed

her own ways to escape from the dominance and restriction: she learns Mandarin and English, trying to

communicate with other people. One of her life routines, having coffee and toast for breakfast, demonstrates that

4 The full name is Kuomintang.


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she tries to be distinct from Chinese traditions. Yuki’s transformation is like the transition of Taipei, where urban

function and activities are changing and development to meet a more open, global and sustainable future. Still,

her insistence on morality and responsibility for her country fellowmen cannot be diminished. The growing

awareness of humanity strengthens people’s thoughts on the future of this city in terms of global competition and

national identity such as the Cross-Strait relationships.

Differences in the Development of Economic Activities: Human Condition 3

The background of Human Condition 3 is based on the initial economic development of Taipei from 1960s

to 1970s. Taipei, at that time, was an “agglomeration of productive forces built by labor employed within a

temporal process of circulation of capital” (Harvey, 1985, p. 250). People from the rural area moved to Taipei for

more job opportunities. By 1987, the population in Taipei is 2.6 million that is the double in 1960s (Taipei City

Government, 1988). At that time, the economic activities mostly relied on industries such as steel factories. The

government tried to create the “economic miracle” by many infrastructure constructions.5 In Taipei, there were

many illegitimate factories hiding in residential areas (Huang & Kwok, 2011, p. 140). The owner of the factory in

this play illegally hires three teenagers from Southern Taiwan, insinuating the social condition that during the

progress of city construction, many factories hired young people from countryside; in order to pursue fortune and

better life, some young people suspended their education and went to Taipei for work. Enduring the owner’s

insult and abuse, the three young men work hard, trying to earn more money to support their families in the

countryside. They hope that one day they can be wealthy as long as they learn skills and begin their own

undertakings. With the increase of urban population and economic growth, Taipei is becoming more and more

industrialized and commercialized. During 1970s and 1980s, most Taipei people earned their livings by manual

labor. Besides factory work, food stands were commonly seen for offering meals to those laborers. Also, street

vendors in this city were selling basic daily supplies. More economic activities were in Ximending at that time.

Named and set up by Japanese, Ximending was the most important consumer district during this period.

“Zonghua Business Building”, near Ximending, built in 1961, was a large commercial area consisted by eight

connected buildings. The attached eight buildings contained various industries and business that provided Taipei

people with life necessities from food to recreation. Many immigrants from Mainland China started up their

business in this area. The three young men in this play mentioned that they hope to make a formal and expensive

suit in Zonghua Business Building after they make a great fortune (Wu, 2008, p. 30). Next to Zonghua Business

Building is Zhonghua Road and the railroad was parallel to it. The signal sound of railroad crossing in this play

implies that the life of characters is near Zhonghua Road.6 The railway is also one of the important tools for

development of Taiwan’s economic.

This play presents different people in the economic turning point of Taiwan. Besides the three young

workers, immigrants from Mainland China are also trying to survive since their home has been occupied and

ruined by the Communist party. Uncle Shandong,7 one of them, for example, sells the hand-made dumplings and

5 Between 1974 and 1979, the “Ten Great Constructions” were exercised for strengthening Taiwan’s competition in industries, such as the Taoyuan International Airport, highway, petroleum, and steel industries. 6 Because of the construction of MRT and railroad underground, Zonghua Business Building was torn down in the 1990s. 7 “Shandong” (Mandarin:山东仔) refers to those who come from the Shandong Province of Mainland China after the Communist Party defeated KMT and takes over the sovereign of the land.


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steamed buns which are the traditional food in his hometown. Neighboring with Taiwanese, he tries to settle

down in this place although he misses his family. A-shiou, the factory owner’s lover, sells the typical Taiwanese

food. It is noticeable that in this play there are two kinds of food respectively coming from Mainland China and

the local place. They not only offer the characters’ need in everyday life but also imply confrontation and

combination of different races, cultures, and social interactions in this period. Uncle Shandong and A-shiou, two

people with different backgrounds, often communicate in their own languages that certainly make

misunderstandings at first but come to compromise with each other after they have mutual feelings about life in

this place. They later become support and comfort to each other because they have identified themselves within

this city. Due to the urban development, their huts are going to be torn down. In the destruction of the dwelling

where they almost live for life, we can see they take care of each other and together fight for their rights of

residence (Wu, 2008, pp. 125-126). The three young men come back to support the protest because this place

carries the memory of growth in their teenage years:

A-sheng: This place is so strange. People come and go every day. It makes no differences either you are living here permanently or temporarily. All you can remember is the people and events here. Without these people, this place is just like motionless and indifferent stage settings.

A-rong: I have that feeling, too. The city will mean nothing to me if there is no one living here. (Wu, 2008, p. 123)

The space is meaningless and insignificant if there is no man. Human is the subject in the space that

dominates the operation of everything. The meaning is endowed by human depending on how human thinks,

arranges, and carries out the everyday life in the space. Doreen Massey argues that city can be explained as a

space containing “many different physical features, and many different experiences, about which many stories

can be told” (Massey, Allen, & Pile, 1999, p. 12). As Mumford takes city as a theater implying there a

“geographic plexus, an economic organization, an institutional process” (Mumford, 1937, p. 185) and social

actions connected here. City is a way of life, establishing a network by which people gather in this space and

create various activities and social relationships. In this network, we can see how power relationship decides the

development and expansion of city. In this play, the destruction of the old community and people’s location and

re-location because of new plan and rearrangement for this space, we see how people face transformation of their

surroundings and their nostalgic feelings of cherishing humanity in the renewal life.

Conclusion

Literature is a way of representation of our everyday life. Works that describes the ordinary people can

enlighten our mind when we feel doubtful or frustrated about the life. In Human Condition, the playwright tries to

assert morality, love and care of brotherhood as the essential value no matter what the society encounters. The

characters in the play are the ordinary people like any one of us. Watching the play is watching our life in which

we identify ourselves with the characters and the daily events. Taipei is the mainly place that the background of

this play occurs. The transformation of the city is represented in the relationships and social production of the

characters and the political and economic activities. As the capital, Taipei is a conglomeration of people and

systems under the influence from historical, social, and cultural events. People with different backgrounds

encounter here; they have conflicts and negotiations. As this place is urbanized, the mutual feelings among


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people are diminishing. People are alienated from one another. Human Condition offers some reflections in

respecting differences by the multiple social and cultural aspects composed in this city. This creative work

attracts many attentions from the young to the elder people. It is a successful work in the cultural industry: it

enlightens us by dealing with the most ordinary life events.

City is a product of human nature (Park 1). The importance and essence of city is to offer places like schools,

government, bus station, hospitals in which it gathers people and “makes a difference to what goes on between

them” (Massey et al., 1999, p. 42). City is the place of encounters that people interact among one another in this

space. In the encounters, both in relative relationships and community mutual feelings, differences are produced.

The experiences of hospitality, rejection, conflict, communication, compromises, and identification bring people

new forms of interaction and differences that offer “new opportunities for people to live their lives differently”

(Massey et al., 1999, p. 48).

References

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Johns Hopkins University Press. Highmore, B. (2002a). Everyday life and cultural theory: An introduction. London: Routledge. Highmore, B. (2002b). The everyday life reader. London: Routledge. Huang, L., & Kwok, R. Y. W. (2011). Taipei’s metropolitan development: Dynamics of cross-strait political economy,

globalization and national identity. In S. Hamnett, & D. Forbes (Eds.), Planning Asian cities: Risks and resilience (pp. 131-157). London: Routledge.

Lefebvre, H. (1984). Everyday life in the modern world. In S. Rabinovitch (Trans.). New Brunswick: Transaction Publishers. Lefebvre, H. (1991). Critique of everyday life. In J. Moore (Trans.). London: Verso. Lefebvre, H. (1992). The production of space. Oxford: Blackwell. Lefebvre, H. (1996). The right to the city. In E. Kofman, & E. Lebas (Eds.), Writing on cities (pp. 147-159). Oxford: Blackwell. Lefebvre, H. (2003). Henri Lefebvre: Key writings. New York: Continuum. LeGate, R. T., & Frederic, S. (1937). The city reader. London: Routledge. Malpas, J. (1999). Place and experience: A philosophical topography. Cambridge: Cambridge UP. Massey, D., Allen, J., & Pile, S. (1999). City worlds. London: Routledge. Mumford, L. (1937). What is a city? In R. T. LeGates, & F. Stout (Eds.), The city reader (pp. 184-189). London: Routledge. Park, R. E. (1984). The city: Suggestion for investigation of human behavior in the urban environment. In R. E. Park et al. (Eds.), The

city: Suggestion for investigation of human behavior in the urban environment (pp. 1-46). Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Stanek, L. (2011). Henri Lefebvre on space: Architecture, urban research, and the production of theory. Minneapolis: University of

Minnesota Press. Taipei City Government. (1988). The 20th year of anniversary of Taipei jurisdiction expansion. Taipei: Bureau of Information,

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A Re-investigation of the Concept of Word Classes Through a

Categorization Approach

Osondu C. Unegbu

Nigeria Police Academy, Wudil, Kano State, Nigeria

The concept of word classes (parts of speech) has always generated controversy among linguists. The earlier

Prescriptive and Descriptive Schools might have set the pace for this controversy but the present dilemma is much

deeper. Learners and even teachers are sometimes at quandary as to how to proof that a particular word belongs to a

particular class. This is because a word may sometimes belong to several classes, in context as in the word “watch”

which can belong to different classes. This paper therefore tries to provide answers to the problem of word class

classification by using a morphological and syntactical evidence to prove that English words follow a particular

range of inflections and belong to strictly ordered particular categories and do not change their class arbitrarily.

This is in line with the natural perfect order of homogeneity in creation which precludes a specie from merging

effectively with another specie without having to undergo some fundamental changes. Other variables were also

looked into and it was concluded that teachers and learners as well, can rely on this sub-categorization approach as

a reliable paradigm for their assumptions concerning word classes.

Keywords: categorization, substitution, classification, sub-categorization, inflection, morpho-syntactic

Introduction

This work was motivated by the desire to contribute to the difficulty in placing the English word classes

properly according to their grammatical categories. This is because over the years, it has been discovered that a

word can belong to different classes like noun, verb, adjective, etc. in context. This definitely, will always

create learning difficulties to learners if not properly addressed. Moreover, some words cannot be easily placed

as belonging to a class as according to Kersty and Kate (2010), it is a matter of degree as s/he made the

following observations: “There are prototypical sports like ‘football’; and not sporty sports like ‘darts’”. There

are exemplary mammals like “dogs” and freakish ones like “platy pus”. Similarly, there are good exemplary

verbs like “watch” and lousy examples like “beware”. Exemplary nouns like “chair” that display all the features

of a typical noun and some not so good ones like “Kenny”.

It is therefore based on the above issues and my understanding of the natural ordering in creation that the

author makes this research on English word classes. Since it is an established fact that two different species in

creation cannot naturally mix (for instance) water and kerosene or a dog and a fish, also in language, the author

believes that there must be some strictly ordered criteria for placing words in their different categories despite

the difficulty. Grammar is a linguistic category which is generally defined by its syntactic or morphological

behaviour. Therefore, we are going to look at the eight traditionally known parts of speech through a

Osondu C. Unegbu, lecturer, Head of the Department of English/French, Nigeria Police Academy.

DAVID PUBLISHING

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A RE-INVESTIGATION OF THE CONCEPT OF WORD CLASSES

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morpho-syntactic process of analysis. However, the term word classes will henceforth be used in this write up

since it conforms more closely to our categorization process. Also to buttress this point, David (2003) states

that:

When linguist began to look closely at English Grammatical structure in the 1940’s and 1950’s they encountered so many problems of identification and definition that the term parts of speech soon fell out of favour, word class being introduced instead. Word classes are equivalent to parts of speech but defined according to strict linguistic criteria. (p. 3)

The Evolution of English Word Classes

The English language was in the medieval period (about 5th-15th Century AD), the language of peasants

while Latin and other Classical Languages were the languages of learning. However, as from the Renaissance

period (about 14th-17th Century AD), English became a pre-eminent language in Europe over the Classical

Languages mainly due to the colonization policy of Great Britain. Therefore, it is not surprising that the early

English grammar had Latin origin which was rule governed and this gave rise to the early theory of grammar as

Prescriptive Grammar (PG) (also called Traditional Grammar—TG). This theory believes in prescribing usage

rules for learners. These greatly influenced the early English grammarians since they followed the earlier

Traditional Grammarian’s approach. An analysis of some grammatical theories will suffice.

The Prescriptive or Traditional Grammar

The PG grammar was referred to as “text-book grammar” because of its strict adherence to rules. The

grammar books then contained almost all the rules and were therefore rule-centered. Rule-centred Latin

grammar formed the origin of “Prescriptive or Traditional Grammar”. The prescriptive “Grammar School” is

hinged on the principle of prescribing usage rules for speakers based on Latin rules because the “Traditionalists”

strongly hold unto language universals, i.e., the notion that all languages share the same

properties/characteristics. For instance, since Latin and Greek have eight parts of speech, other languages must

also have eight. They also rely heavily on prescribed definitions of these parts of speech and anything that does

not conform to their definitions is wrong. They equally emphasize writing over speech in language learning and

rely heavily on memorization.

Descriptive or Structural Grammar

In view of this, around the 20th Century, modern linguists proclaimed their faults in the nature of each

language as used by its native speakers in terms of prescribing usage rules. They have discovered that each

language has its own set of rules of structure and usage and this is contrary to earlier practice. They posit that

the job of a grammarian is not to make (prescribe) usage rules of a language. The grammarian should merely

codify and explain what is already there, i.e., the usage of the people who speak the language. Each language

must therefore be described according to its own rules and not according to the grammar of another language.

This method of describing language is the second theory called “Descriptive or Structural Grammar” (D.G. or

S.G.) and it is a counterpoise to the earlier school-Prescriptive or Traditional Grammar. The Descriptive

Grammarians therefore do not subscribe to the idea of language universals because, according to them, the fact

that languages have certain things in common does not necessarily mean that all languages are the same. They

also believe strongly in the primacy of speech over writing in learning because apart from the fact that speech

developed before writing, writing is considered as a special dialect of a language. They classified the English

words into “grammatical/function” words and “content” words. For instance, grammatical words are those


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whose meanings cannot be established in isolation, i.e., when used alone and not in conjunction with other

words. Here are some examples: the meanings of these words: and, on, etc. cannot be known except when they

are used together with other words to form a sentence, as in: “my brother bought for me a book and a school

bag’’. “I kept the book on the table’’. They called these grammatical words “closed class items” because no

new ones are being admitted into the English language. The closed items include: conjunctions, prepositions,

adverbs, and interjections. On the other hand, the content words are those whose meanings can be deduced

from the individual words in isolation. These are the nouns, pronouns, verbs, and adjectives (boy, she, run, tall).

They called this set “open class items” because new words are being formed regularly from them. Lastly,

Descriptive Grammarians do not agree on prescribing definitions for linguistic concepts, especially the parts of

speech. Their stand is that instead of defining a noun or verb, one can describe them through their different

components. Illustratively, this can be shown in the following sentences: “The boys are playing football”. The

noun “boys” can be so identified because: (1) it is preceded by the determiner “the”; (2) it is plural because it

has the plural suffix “s”; and (3) it can easily swap places with another noun, e.g., “The girls are playing

football”. They equally believe in the denotative and connotative meanings of words, as opposed to the

Traditional Grammarian’s “undifferentiated total meaning of words”. This kind of grammar describes the rules

that can be used to produce all the sentences contained within a language.

The Systemic Functional Grammar

This theory of grammar was the brain child of a British linguist in the 1960s Halliday, who viewed

language as a “network of systems” or “interrelated set of options for making meaning” (Halliday, 1994). He

views language as being functional in the sense that it is as it is because of what it has evolved to do. Thus

language being that which “reflects the multidimensional nature of human experience and interpersonal

relations” (Halliday, 2003). Also, according to Robert (2007): “systemic linguistics (SL) is an avowedly

functional approach to language and it is arguably the functionalist’s approach which has been most highly

developed”. He further states that the most distinguishing feature of SL from other theories is that SL

“explicitly attempts to combine purely structural information with overtly social factors in a single integrated

description”. Furthermore, Robert made us to understand that SL is deeply concerned with the purpose of

language use and systemicists constantly ask the following questions: “what is the writer or speaker trying to do?

What linguistic devises are available to help him do it and on what basis do they make their choices”?

In the light of the above, this write up on word classes is going to be based on a systemic approach since it

shares the same concerns with it.

Some Divergencies Between the Prescriptive and Descriptive Grammar

While the Traditional Linguists define a noun as the name of a person (Kate), place (Gamestown), animal

(goat), or thing (car), the Descriptive Linguists claim that such definition is inadequate since it excludes

abstract things like “beauty, truth”, etc.. They redefine a noun as a naming word or, the name of a person, place,

animal, thing, and abstract qualities. Or simply put: The noun is a naming word. This divergence also extends

to the verb. While the traditional Linguists define it as a doing word, the modern Descriptive Linguists consider

it inadequate because it tends to ascribe to the verb only the role of action, whereas in the actual sense, a verb

describes both actions, processes, and state of being (c.f. I believe in you. He is not a good man. This is my

friend). The descriptive Grammarians therefore redefine a verb as a word that shows action and state of being.

On the adjective, there is also a divergence between the two schools. The Traditional Grammarians define


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it as: A word that modifies a noun (e.g., a brick wall). However, the Modern Grammarians point out that some

adjectives can perform a dual role of belonging to both the noun and the adjective. For instance, in the above

sentence: “give me a brick”, “brick” is an adjective, but can also be a noun in another sentence like: “I need a

brick”. So according to the descriptive linguists, an adjective is a word that modifies and can be modified.

In as much as the two schools which do not necessarily disagree on the other traditionally known English

word classes, there are other areas of divergence between them. For instance, prescriptive grammar accepts

sentences like this: “To whom are you talking?” This is because “who are you talking to?” (which the Modern

Grammarians accept), ends with a preposition “to” (and the rule of Prescriptive Grammar rejects it). Also

Prescriptive Grammar accepts this form: “It is I” instead of the Modern Grammarian’s “It is me”. They claim

that a linking verb “is”, takes another word only in the nominative (subject) and not in the accusative (object)

position. But the Descriptive Grammarians argue that even though “me” is in the objective case, it is the current

usage of the owners of the language.

Lastly, Traditional Grammar says that an infinitive should not be split, e.g., “I want you to clearly

understand”, i.e., the infinitive “understand”, is split by the adverb “clearly”. The preferred form here is: “I

want you to understand clearly”. On the other hand, The Modern Descriptive Grammarians say that one can

split an infinitive.

Difficulties in Previous Categorization Process

Since the earliest prescriptive Grammar era, parts of speech have been defined by morphological,

syntactical, and semantic criteria, i.e., according to their inflectionary changes, rules, and meaning respectively.

However, it has been difficult to come up with a generally agreed upon criteria for the classification of these

parts of speech. This may not be unconnected with the fact that words do not belong to one part of speech as

earlier pointed out. On this, Sidney (1996) says:

look is a verb in “it looks good” but a noun in “she has good looks”, that is a conjunction in “I know that they are abroad” but a pronoun in “I know that” and a determiner in “I know that man”. One is a generic pronoun in “one must be careful not to offend them” but a numeral in “give me one good reason”. (p. 4)

However, this problem of classification has continued even up to today. This is because linguistic items

may belong to many classes and even when used in context, ambiguity can still arise. This is because even

though we recognize the class of words in context, some words still are difficult to be categorised, especially

those that end with suffixes. To this Sidney and Gerald (2009), say:

ly is a typical suffix for adverbs (slowly proudly), but we also find this suffix in adjectives cowardly, homely, manly. And we can sometimes convert words from one class to another even though they have suffixes that are typical of their original class, an engineer, a negative response, a negative. (p. 84)

The problem of classification is even much deeper in terms of affixations. This is because certain word

classes take particular inflectional changes to change their class as in the ly adverb marker (hungrily, adversely,

beautifully, etc.). However, it is a fact that not all adverbs end in ly suffix as in: fast, wise, yesterday, etc. While

some classes that take the ly suffix are actually adjectives, as in: friendly, manly, etc. and some that take the ly

can belong to either the adjective or adverb as in: lively—a lively joke/man (adjective); She danced very lively

(adverb). Therefore, any such strict categorization based on affixation will fail. In other to come out of this

problem, some linguists like Martha and Robert (1998), have classified words according to their function like


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the open class items (nouns, verbs, adjectives, adverbs, and interjections) and closed class items (auxiliary

verbs, conjunctions, pronouns, prepositions, etc.). This too cannot effectively categorize words according to

their classes. This is because some linguists like kroeger (2005) have argued that this type of classification is

inadequate since the eight word classes are “greatly simplified and artificial”. According to him, “adverb is to

some extent a catch—all class that includes words with many different functions” (p. 35).

The Categorizations Approach—The Verb

In English, verbs take a characteristic range of inflections like “ing – s – ed”, giving us paradigms like:

Like – liking – likes – liked

Kiss – kissing – kisses – kissed

Play – playing – plays – played

Drive – driving – drives – drove (irregular verb).

By contrast, nouns do not permit the same range of verbal inflections, c.f. Boy *boying – boys – boyed

(N.B: a star before a word or sentence indicates incorrectness)

People *peopling – peoples – peopled

Book *booking – books – booked.

It is interesting to note that the only inflection permitted by the verb and the noun together is the “s” suffix.

But while the addition of “s” to a noun indicates plurality, (as in boys), “s” in a verb indicates singularity and

also that the subject of the verb is singular in relation to the subject-verb agreement (as in the boy plays). The

other corresponding inflections like “booking, booked” change the word category from verb to noun. This

justifies the intuition that such morphological inflections like – “ing – ed” etc. belong only to the verb.

Also c.f. Prepositions: At - *ating – ats – ated

On - *oning – ons – oned etc.

Pronouns: He - *heing – hes – heed

They - *theying – theys – theyed

She - *sheing – shes – sheed

Us - *using – uss – used

Adjectives: Huge - *hugeing – huges – hugeed

Fat - *fating – fats – fated

Adverbs: Yesterday - *yesterdaying – yesterdays – yeserdayed

Hungrily - *hungrilying – hungrilys – hungrilyed

Conjunctions: And - *anding – ands – anded

But - *buting – buts – buted

Interjections: Oh! - *ohing! – ohs! - ohed!

Ah! - *ahing! – ahs! - ahed!

The Noun

Only nouns take the following range of morphological inflections:

Boy – boys – the boy – a boy

Egg – eggs – the egg – an egg

Secondly, only nouns can occupy the same syntactical positions, i.e., successfully swap places with other

nouns without distorting the meaning, c.f. The boy is my brother:


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*The play is my brother

*The he is my brother

*The fast is my brother

*The huge is my brother

*The in is my brother

*The ah! is my brother

Likewise, only noun phrases can take a genitive “s” inflection, as in: Aminu’s book, the driver’s car, that

rich man’s brother, the Queen’s jewelry, the Queen of England’s son, etc.

The same range of genitive inflections cannot go with adverbial phrases, c.f. *very slowly’s, rather too

slow’s, too fast’s, very hungrily’s, much too soon’s, etc.

The same exclusion is on the other word classes, c.f. *I’s, at’s, our’s, your’s, and’s, ah’s!, huge’s, etc.

Furthermore, the categorization of noun + “s” suffix (to form plurals, c.f. boy - boys) and being preceded

by the determiners a, an & the, is a property of the noun. This cannot go with the other parts of speech, c.f.

Verb: Play - *plays - the plays – a plays (NB: the play and a play change the word class from verb to noun).

Likewise: swim – the swim – a swim.

Prepositions: On - *ons – the on – a on

In - *ins – an in – the in – a in

It is noteworthy that “on” and “in” can syntactically swap positions with each other as in the nouns: “boy

and egg”, but this will likely affect the sentence semantically, c.f. The boy is good.

The egg is good.

The book is on the table.

*The book is in the table.

Also for the verb: I play football everyday

*I swim football everyday

Also c.f. The boy plays football.

The boys play football.

NB: while the “s” suffix changes a noun to plural, it changes a verb to singular. This is further proof that it

is only the noun that can effectively swap places with another noun without distorting the meaning.

Furthermore, in as much as both the noun and the verb can take the “s” morphological inflection, it changes the

number and case, from singular to plural (noun) and from plural to singular (verb). So it is only the noun that

can be preceded by the determiners (a, an & the) and also swap places with another noun and successfully take

the “s” inflection to become plural. C.f. Pronoun:

He *hes – the he – a he – an he

Mine *mines – the mine – a mine – an mine

Adjectives: Long *longs - the long - a long - an long

Short *shorts – the short – a short – an short

Foolish: They are fools. *They are foolishes

NB: the adjective can accept the same range of determiners in some cases, c.f. a long road, a short man, an

ugly cat, the merciless man.

This may not be unconnected with the fact that adjectives are related to the noun since it is the adjective

that modifiers the noun. But when looked at critically, the determiner does not specify the adjective but the


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noun, since the adjective is just there to pre-modify the noun. So, the phrase is actually—the man (which one?

The merciless man).

Adverbs: beautifully *beautifullys, the beautifully, a beautifully, an beautifully. NB: where the adverb

accepts to be preceded by the determiners: a, an & the, it changes it to adjective. C.f. A beautifully planned

dance. The beautifully crafted cloth.

Conjunctions: And *ands - the and - a and - an and

Or * ors – the or – a or – an –or

Interjections: Ah! *ahs! – the ah! – a ah! – an ah!

Adjectives

In the same way, only adjectives accept (a subset) of a comparative inflectionary form in “er” morpheme,

c.f. tall – taller, fat – fatter, lovely – lovelier, nice – nicer etc. and not nouns, c.f. boy - *boyer, girl – girler, cat

– cater etc.

Verbs: Play - *player, (er morpheme changes verb to noun), run - *runner, eat - *eater, sit - *siter, read –

reader etc.

Prepositions: Behind – behinder, on - *oner, into – intoer, at – ater, etc.

Pronouns: I - *Ier, We - *weer, it - *iter, they - *theyer, etc.

Conjunctions: And - *ander, but - *buter, etc.

Adverbs: Hungrily - *hungrilyer, slow - *slower, etc.

NB: The “er” inflection seems to accord with both adjectives and adverbs, c.f.

He ran faster and won (adv.). However, the adverb will fail the substitution test and hence cannot be

strictly categorized with the adjective, c.f. The faster man is here (adj.). An adverb cannot swap places without

it still remaining an adjective, c.f. The slower man is here. It should also be noted that it is only in very limited

number of adverbs that we can find the “er” morpheme corresponding with that of the adjective, as in “faster

and slower”.

Interjections: Ah! - *aher! – oher! – helloer!, etc.

Adverbs

One can rightly posit that only adverbs can morphologically add the “ly” inflection without the meaning

being affected c.f. hungrily, slowly (adverbs). And not nouns: boy - *boyly – woman - *womanly, girl - *girly,

etc. NB: when “ly” is affixed to some nouns: woman to womanly, girly, manly, they change from nouns to

adjectives.

Verb: Play - *playly, sing - *singly, run - *runly, drive – drively. Also in following syntactic

categorization, it is only an adverb that can effectively swap places with another adverb c.f. He ate the food

hungrily. He ate the food greedily. No other word class can fit into the structure without affecting the meaning

semantically, c.f. *He ate the food cat (noun). *He ate the food play (verb). *He ate the food us (pronoun). *He

ate the food and (conjunction). *He ate the food at (preposition). *He ate the food fat (adjective).

Pronouns

Still in following the categorization order, only pronouns are inflected for nominative (subject) and

accusative (object) cases, (according to traditional Latin terminology), which gives rise to alternations like this:

I – me; he – him; she – her; we – us; they – them. Whereas nouns, adjectives, verbs, adverbs, prepositions,

conjunctions and interjections, by contrast, are not morphologically marked the same way, c.f. I gave it to him.


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He did it for me. She gave it to her. He did it for him. But not noun: *Aminu did it for Aminu (Verb) *Play the

ball play. NB: Where a word belonging to the same class can be used in the nominative and accusative

positions (as in the noun above), the noun “Aminu” is still not able to change its form from subject to object as

in I – me, he – him, she – her, etc. For the other word classes, it is simply impossible since they don’t have the

quality of the pronoun to be categorized the same way.

Prepositions

In the same vein, one can rightly posit that only prepositions act as connectors between two elements, c.f. I

saw him behind (from, into, in, on, at, inside, beside, etc.) the wall.

From the above examples, one preposition can rightly be substituted with another without seriously

distorting the meaning. Where there is a disagreement, it is as a result of the misuse of prepositions in terms of

its kind, i.e., where a preposition of place is used in place of a preposition of time, c.f. *I saw him from the

house. But this is not the case with the other word classes when they are substituted in the same position as the

preposition, c.f. I saw him behind the house.

*I saw him boy the house

*I saw him dance the house

*I saw him ah! the house

*I saw him long the house

*I saw him slowly the house, etc.

This further proves that words are grouped into closely-nit categories.

Conjunctions

Only conjunctions can function as a link between two words or two parts of a sentence, c.f. bread and

butter. Aminu is a student but Amina is a trader. The old man and the woman are here.

In keeping with categorization order, other parts of speech cannot occupy the same position as the

conjunction, c.f.

The doctor and the nurse are in the hospital

*The doctor boy the nurse are in the hospital

*The doctor play the nurse are in the hospital

*The doctor huge the nurse are in the hospital

*The doctor fast the nurse are in the hospital

*The doctor on the nurse are in the hospital

*The doctor I the nurse are in the hospital

*The doctor ah! the nurse are in the hospital.

Interjections

This seems to be an exception since most of the word classes can equally be used to show emotion or

emphasis just as the traditional interjections, c.f. Ah! I was surprised.

Boy! I was surprised.

Play! I was surprised.

fat! I was surprised.

Besides! I was surprised.

fast! I was surprised.


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But! I was surprised.

He! I was surprised.

This failure of the substitution order on the interjection further reinforces the intuition that words belong to

closely-nit syntactic categories. This is because most scholars like Morley (2000, p. 45), have pointed out that

the interjection does not belong to the word class but to the interjection class. They claim that the main

distinguishing feature of the interjection is the interjection mark (!). So it is not surprising that of all the other

seven word classes analysed, it is only the interjection that violates this categorization process. I share the same

view on interjection as a word class and suggest that it should be properly placed where it belongs—the

punctuation class.

Some Merits of This Approach

To achieve an all-inclusive categorization of the word classes, this approach is based on three criteria

namely: semantic, i.e., the meanings of the word, syntactic, i.e., the position of the word in a sentence based on

grammatical rules and morphological, i.e., the type of inflectionary changes that are attached to a word.

Some merits of this approach can be seen from the perspective that it will allow us to place words

appropriately according to their meaning. For instance, in the sentences: “My wife is a beautiful woman”. And

*“My house is a beautiful woman”. We can intuitively sense that a house cannot at the same time be a beautiful

woman since it is not human but an inanimate object, though both are nouns. On the other hand, it will allow us

the leverage to effectively substitute words within a sentence with other words of a similar meaning, as in: “My

daughter is a beautiful woman”.

On the morpho-syntactical level, it has the merit of not allowing certain grammatical units to precede or

come after some words, as in: *“I bought car”, instead of the correct “I bought a car”.

This academic exercise is aimed at proving that words are strictly sub-categorized into different

grammatical constituents (nouns, verbs, pronouns, etc.). This is achieved through morpho-syntactical evidence.

It has been proved that in English, a specific type of inflection attaches to only a specific category of words.

This approach tends to posit that words are hierarchically structured into constituents, assigned to various

categories which also have independent morphological motivations.

To put it more succinctly, this categorization approach has the advantage of clearly explaining the

meaning of words and through a substitution order, is able to place words appropriately according to their class.

Lastly, words have been categorized appropriately based on their environment, i.e., the words that naturally

occur before and after them. It is hoped therefore that this will go a long way in helping to place word classes

more properly according to their categories without much difficulty.

Conclusion

Chomsky (1972) has proved that category based grammar is more constrained, i.e., structure dependent

since it adheres strictly to the categorization, substitution, and morphological order. By being more constrained,

a learner is assisted to recognize which word belongs to which category of the word class. C.f. determiners: I

want a toy I want this toy

I want the toy

I want that toy

Nouns: I saw a man


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I saw a woman

I saw a girl

I saw a book etc.

Verbs: I played the ball

I kicked the ball

I threw the ball

I missed the ball etc.

Pronouns: I gave it to him

I gave it to her

I gave it to them

I gave it to us

*I gave it to our NB: a disagreement can only arise where there is a misuse of a kind of word class as in

the case of “our” which is a possessive pronoun.

In essence, words don’t just belong to classes arbitrarily. The assumption that words fit into categorized,

syntactic, morphological rules, and that there is a highly restricted universal set of categories in natural

languages; and the assumption that a learner either knows intuitively (innately), or learns these restrictions,

provides a highly plausible model of language mastery in which languages become learnable in a relatively

short period of time.

It is hoped that this little contribution to knowledge will go a long way in assisting both teachers and

learners in mastering the English word classes without much difficulty.

References Brown, K., & Miller, J. (1992).A linguistic introduction to sentence structure. London:Routhledge. Chomsky, N. (1972). Language & mind. New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich. David, C. (2003). The Cambridge encyclopedia of the English language (2nd ed). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Halliday, M. A. K. (1994). Introduction to functional grammar (2nd ed.). London: Edward Arnold. Halliday, M. A. K. (2003). On the “Architecture of human language”. London: Bloomsbury Academic. Kersty, B., & Kate, B. (2010). Introducing English grammar (2nd ed.). London: Hodder Education. Kroeger, P. (2005). Analysing grammar: An introduction. London: Cambridge University Press. Lyons, J. (1979). Introduction to theoretical linguistics. London: University Press. Martha, K., & Robert, F. (1998). Understanding English grammar. Boston: Allyn and Bacon. Morley, G. D. (2000). Syntax in functional grammar. London: Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data. Quirk, R., & Sidney, G. (1980). A university grammar of English. London: Longman. Radford, A. (1997). Syntactic theory & the structure of English. London: Cambridge University Press. Robert, L. (2007). Language and linguistics: The key concepts. London: Routledge. Sidney, G. (1996). Oxford English grammar. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Sidney, G., & Gerald, N. (2009). An introduction to English grammar (3rd ed.). Harlow: Pearson.


Constructing a Local Folk-belief Knowledge System:

A Case Study on Xiangtou in Hebei Province, China*

LI Xiang-zhen

Shandong University, Jinan, China

In many areas of North China, villagers are more concerned about the specific practice like ritual, rather than

ideology when dealing with the relevant belief problems. Therefore, practice is far more important in the analysis of

villagers’ belief problems. In everyday life, villagers produce an entire set of local knowledge based on their needs

and experience to life, and form various social relationships based on the shared knowledge. Narration and practice

are not only the strategies that villagers often use to construct their local knowledge but also the leading ways to

produce and inherit it. So it is indispensable to pay attention to the production ways and the practice, which

concerning about the local belief knowledge, thus it may be better to understand their inner logic of participating

the relevant ritual activities when we analyze xiangtou (香头)1 and kanxiang (看香)2 activities widely existed in

rural areas of North China.

Keywords: folk-belief knowledge, Xiangtou, Kanxiang, narration, activity

Introduction

In recent decades, the problem of folk belief3 in north China has drawn the attention from many scholars

both in China and abroad. All these findings are beneficial for us to pull away the veils of folk belief in this

area. Through further investigation in village society, we can easily find that in everyday life villagers consider

the practice, such as ritual, far more conservative than ideology and certainly more identifiable (Paper, 1988, p.

* This paper was presented on American Folklore Society Annual Meeting on Oct 18, 2013. A lot of thanks should be given to Prof. Mark Bender (Ohio State University), Dr. Li Jing (Gettysburg College), Dr. Wang Junxia (East China Normal University), Dr. Peng Ruihong (Shandong University), and my girlfriend Li Qian, who gave me plenty of help and beneficial suggestions on this paper. LI Xiang-zhen, Ph.D. candidate, Advanced Institute of Confucian Studies, Shandong University. 1 Xiangtou are the practitioners who heal through the power of fox spirits or other deities(such as Guanyin观音, Pi-hsia

yuan-chun碧霞元君), remain very much in demand. Xiangtou employ the power of supernatural in order to cure illnesses caused by forces, such as malevolent ghosts, that are out of the reach of modern medicine. 2 Kanxiang is the process and practice of xiangtou’s diagnosis and treatment. Each xiangtou has his or her own method of divining whether an illness is shi or xu, or possibly a combination of both, and if it is xu, xiangtou would tell what sort of force is causing the problem. Generally speaking, three steps will be observed, take Ding Wenke from Guyi village as an example: firstly, he burns a candle (other xiangtou will burn three sticks of incense or a cigarette); then, he observes the candle flame very carefully and at the same time goes into a meditative state; after a few minutes, he will tell the patients the cause of the illness and the methods to heal it. 3 There are multiple keywords on folk belief in current academic community, for example, public belief, public religion, popular belief, popular religion, folk religion, folk belief and so on. Since the author have no intention to discuss these concepts in this paper, the author would like to choose folk belief. More about the difference of these words, please refer to the articles written by Peng Mu, such as“Religion” and Zong-jiao: Analytic Categories and Domestic Concepts, the religious cultures in the world, 2010, vol. 5.

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116). Given this, an increasing number of scholars begin to focus on the practice of folk belief (DuBois, 2004;

Paper, 1988; Wolf, 1974; YANG, 1991; Knapp, 1999; YUE, 2008; GUO, 2004). In The sacred village,

Professor DuBois gives us a glimpse of the world of such practices and beliefs at local level (DuBois, 2004).

And he concludes that xiangtou4 is the holder of the religious knowledge in local culture (DuBois, 2009). In

North China, it is relatively common that the belief about xiangtou and the deities which xiangtou declares can

heal people’s xu sick, such as huxian (fox), guanyin (Guanyin Bodhisattva), long wang (The Dragon King) and

so on. Chinese scholars’ studies about xiangtou and kanxiang activities mainly concentrate on the following

points: (1) the process in which how a villager becomes a holy man (YUE, 2008); (2) the deities, and how they

are used as the basis to research psychics and Shamans in trance (Lewis, 1989); (3) spirits and ghosts, such as

“sidamen” (four animal spirits: fox, weasel, hedgehog, snake) and so on (LIU, 2007; LI & DING, 2004).

Based on the further fielwork, this article uses the concept of local knowledge (Geertz, 1973), and take the

local folk-belief knowledge as the point to analyze the practice of folk-belief in recent village society in north

China. The study showed, as the holder of the folk belief knowledge in local culture, xiangtou and their kanxiang

activities carry a lot of symbolic sense. It may be beneficial to interpret the relations among xiangtou, deities and

patients5, if we are clear about the ways and the process of the production of local folk belief knowledge. This

paper analyzes how villagers produce a mutually agreed local belief knowledge through narration and activities

in the process of kanxiang or daily life. The first part will introduce author’s fieldwork point, Guyi village; the

second part will analyze the folk-belief knowledge in narration; the third part will analyze the folk-belief in

activities (especially in kanxiang activities); the last one is a brief conclusion.

The Fieldwork Point: Guyi Village

Guyi Village is located 30 kilometers in southwest of Wu’an city, Hebei province, China. And the village

is in the border of Hebei, Shandong, Shanxi, and Henan areas. According to the village temple inscriptions

records, villagers lived here since the Tang Dynasty. In the history of thousands of years, the village’s name

changed several times, and the present name was put into use after the founding of New China. Relies on

relatively flat terrain, this village has more arable land, and is more convenient in irrigation, so it has been

much affluent in agriculture in the past. Currently, the population in the villagers has been more than 2,000.

There are various belief rituals in the village, and there are many temples prepared for multitudinous divinities6.

What makes Guyi village famous is a collective ritual named Catching the Yellow Ghost7.

4 Xiangtou are the practitioners who heal through the power of fox spirits or other deities (such as Guanyin观音, Pi-hsia

yuan-chun碧霞元君), remain very much in demand. Xiangtou employ the power of supernatural in order to cure illnesses caused by forces, such as malevolent ghosts, that are out of the reach of modern medicine. 5 Patients in this paper is people who fall ill with xu sickness (虚病). According to different demands, patients could be divided into the following five types: (1) Praying for peace and safety without concrete wishes; (2) Suffering incurable physical pains aroused by sidamen (四大门); (3) Being under mental pressure as life is not well-off; (4) Sometimes falling into mental disorder; and (5) Others coming to be diagnosed. 6 Some people told me, there are nearly 30 temples in Guyi village. The most important temples include Guanyintang (which prepared for Guanyin Buddha), Yuhuang Miao (which prepared for Jade Emperor), Baimei Sanlang Miao (which prepared for baimeisanlang who is the village guard divinity). 7 This ritual activity is to commemorate the village guard divinity Baimeisanlang, and there are nearly half of the villagers will be attend this ritual. Every year, this activity attracts about 30,000-50,000 people to watch. More about this ritual please refer to Du, 2010.


During the 2012 Spring Festival to Lantern Festival, there is a survey in this village about half a month,

mainly focused on the grand community ritual—Catching the Yellow Ghost. The author heard one of the

organizers in this activity who was a well-known xiangtou. With curiosity, the author found him and observed the

process of kanxiang. Once again, the author came to watch dozens of kanxiang activities in April in the same year.

At the beginning of the author’s survey, the author was not popular and some xiangtou even drove me away when

they engaged in kanxiang, but as they were slowly familiar with me, they did not care about the author’s existence,

and even began to tell some strategies of kanxiang or answer the author’s questions. Previously, the author have

ever made relevant surveys at Anguo (an area in the central of Hebei), Shijiazhuang, Handan (in the south of

Hebei), Hengshui (in the southeast of Hebei), Cangzhou and so on. In the fieldwork, the author found villagers

would express local folk-belief knowledge system by diverse manners to the outsiders of this knowledge system,

even if sometimes it is difficult to express it in words. When expressing folk-belief knowledge, the most common

ways villagers used are narration and activities, which outsiders will easily comprehend the meaning of the

folk-belief knowledge.

Narration: Folk-belief Knowledge in Narrativition

The narrators include villagers (patients and some non-patients villagers), xiangtou and the other just like

me. On different occasions, these narrators produce and diffuse whole local folk belief knowledge in different

ways and strategies. How the belief knowledge is produced through their narration will be explained in the

following section.

Villagers

In G village, the narration about xiangtou was mainly focused on their three identities: a simple country folk,

an able xiangtou, and an organizer of village collective activity like “catching the yellow ghost”.

A few years ago, xiangtou Ding’s wife ran away from home due to her mental problems. About this, some

villagers explained, “It is an ordeal from deities that his wife was missing”. So being a xiangtou is not as easy as

we imagine. These villagers consider such misfortune a normal process of gaining miraculous power as a

xiangtou. It is just the incident that makes villagers more convinced that xiangtou is magic and unusual. Thus the

authoritativeness of xiangtou is confirmed and strengthened.

During the investigation, the author found the investigator’s identity affected villagers’ narrating strategy to

some extent. In the face of outsiders, they need to maintain and strengthen the authoritativeness of belief

knowledge. Therefore, when talking about xiangtou they greatly exaggerated his miraculous and efficacious

power. To be exact, they do not want their commonly agreed knowledge being challenged.

Besides the narration of xiangtou himself, the villagers also confirmed xiangtou’s divinity by telling

efficacious stories that happened to them. Such narration was often given in the process of kanxiang activity.

What’s more, villagers might tell these stories to others, which would enhance the credibility of xiangtou and

his miraculous power. This model of narration was the most common one during the author’s survey. It was

often started with the beginning of “It is said that… ” and then a successful story of seeing the “doctor”

(xiangtou). In order to enhance the authenticity of the story, the person who retold the story tended to change

the identity of the patient from a stranger to an acquaintance, such as his relatives or some local officials.


Villagers may not be aware of their participation in the production of local folk-belief knowledge system

when they narrate these stories. Perhaps, for different reasons, they emphasize xiangtou’s miraculous power and

efficacious stories. Firstly, maybe on account of their real experiences and feelings in life, they consider these

stories to be authentic. Next, perhaps it is just one of the narrating strategies they choose to express their

commonly agreed local knowledge when facing the outsiders. Moreover, through narrating or retelling such

stories, villagers can enhance their faith in xiangtou and his deities so as to get some kind of psychological

comfort.

Xiangtou

When the villagers produce the religious knowledge on xiangtou by narrating, xiangtou can also get more

involved in perfecting the construction and production of local folk-belief system by narrating by himself.

As an ordinary villager, Ding was more likely to know that it was because of mental disorder that his wife

ran away from home. However, as a xiangtou, he realized that it would be a great risk if he acknowledged it. He

knew it well that admitting the truth would undoubtedly reveal his lack of divine power and then lose trust from

villagers. So he chose the discourse strategy of the call of god to reduce the harm of the risk.

Xiangtou’s narration also includes the process of his mastery in deities and the achievement he has gained.

In addition, in the process of kanxiang activity, xiangtou often tells about Buddhist stories and talks reasons to

persuade people to be kind.

Others

Villagers and others will internalize the stories they narrate into a set of knowledge and store it

unconsciously. And the one who had once learned such knowledge may come to kanxiang when they encounter

the problem which can not be solved or explained through scientific methods. For instance, the author once

suggested one of my friends go to Mr. Ding for help after the author’s investigation when author heard that his

child always cried for unknown reason. Even without thinking, the author told him that it was said to be quite

helpful. This reveals that the author has already integrated unconsciously the new knowledge the author heard

from the villagers into the author’s previous cognition and experience, and participated in the continuous process

of producing and spreading such knowledge by narration.

Activities: Folk-belief Knowledge in Activities

The attendees of kanxiang mainly include xiangtou, patient, deities, and other onlookers, with the first three

as the core participants.

Xiangtou’s Activities

When a patient comes to him for help, Mr. Ding first lighted a bunch of or three sticks of incense in the

censer in front of the Buddha statue. Then he asked the patient some basic information, including his name, age,

direction of his house, etc., and the problem to be solved. After he understood the patient’s intention, Mr. Ding

would take out a slip of yellow paper, which was about one or two inches long and one inch wide, and asked the

patient to write down his own name, age, address and the items to be consulted. Then he had the note pressed on

the table and let the comer sit on the chair next to the table. After that, Ding took out the three sticks of incense

from the burner, lighted them and prayed in front of the Guanyin, and then put them in the burner again.


Next he lighted a white candle, whispered to the flame, and then read the yellow paper three times. With

eyes closed, he immersed himself in meditation motionlessly, after about two or three minutes, he sighed deeply,

shaked his body opened his eyes suddenly. And then began his special treatment for the patients. Mr. Ding

claimed that he just represented Guanyin to cure patients. According to him, he was obtaining Guanyin’s wisdom

when he closed his eyes. And the reflection of candle flame in his mind helped him diagnose the cause of xu

sickness. Finally, he gave different prescriptions for different illnesses.

Actually, the process of kanxiang was not exactly the same in the villages the author investigated. In some

areas, xiangtou directly communicated with the patient after burning the incense, without the procedure of séance

or immersing into the sacred state. Some xiangtou might even exchange worldly ideas with the others present.

Some of them may possess a xiangpu (a set of printed pictures with various shapes of the lighting incense), which

was used to tell the cause of illness and relevant solution according to the shape of the lighting incense.

Patients’ Activities

Throughout the ritual, the patients remain to be passive and their actions are regulated by their faith to

xiangtou and the authority of the deities. In fact, there exists a set of relevant belief knowledge in the patients’

mind previously, which may be learned from others’ narration or through other ways. In such knowledge,

xiangtou may be described as the one who masters the power to relieve the confusion about xu sickness.

Therefore, after they obtained the instruction from xiangtou, the patients will behave strictly according to it such

as kowtow.

Besides the specific actions in ritual, patients may further strengthen the divine authority of xiangtou in

other ways, of which redeeming the vow pledged by the cured people is the most common one. In Ding’s central

room, there are more than 10 plaques hanging on the wall. They were all presented by patients, with honorifics

written on them such as pu sa zai shi (reincarnation of Buddha), shen en yong zhu (long live the bless of deities).

Patients may also give xiangtou some articles for daily use as presents like mobile phone and television. These

material carriers and the actions of presenting, which symbolize the divinity of xiangtou, become a significant

part of the local belief-knowledge system.

Deities and Their Supernatural Power

In the whole activities of kanxiang, the deities are the indispensable attendees. The entire local belief

knowledge is also produced and constructed around the deities. Different xiangtou in different areas make

different choices on deities. Ding chooses Buhha Guanyin. Many xiangtou in Cangzhou prefer fox spirits. While

in other areas, some may select other deities. Anyway, they all choose the deities with which the local people are

familiar. It indicates that xiangtou will consider the belief foundation of the deities before he makes choices.

Actually, few xiangtou will select the deities unknown to the native. Therefore, each kanxiang activity is either

the reinforcement of the belief knowledge the deities carried or the process of producing the new knowledge in

terms of the advent of the divinity.

Others and Their Actions

The other villagers, the author, and the investigator, seem to exist there invisibly, for the reason that the

author could not affect the whole process of the ritual activity virtually. But they may further make the

improvement and extension of this belief knowledge in observation and whispers. It can be predicated that these


attendees would transform what they have seen into some knowledge and spread it out in their own ways.

Undoubtedly, they have become the producers and spreaders of local belief knowledge unconsciously.

Conclusion

Xiangtou have played one of the most important roles in the whole village life. The author supposes that the

reason why they exist in village society is that they have been viewed as the primary master and practitioner of

the local belief knowledge. As Dubois (2004) says:

Whatever the characteristics of any particular individual, such healers continue to exist in this and other areas because the beliefs upon which their arts are based are commonly held and because they address a universal need. Xiangtou remain an integral part of folk culture and village society. (p. 84)

Kanxiang activity can be viewed as the most leading way of the villager’s belief practice. In the whole ritual,

xiangtou obtains the sacred identity from the deities, bringing him miraculous power which wins the deep faith of

the patient. There exists a temporary steady relationship among xiangtou, deities and patients, which is based on

the shared belief knowledge system. That is to say, they can reach a commonly understanding in terms of each

action and sentence.

Patients hold the same trust to both xiangtou and doctors essentially and subordinate to their authority.

However, the difference is that xiangtou’s authority derives from the patients’ identification of local belief

knowledge while the authority of doctors is closely related to people’s acceptance of modern medical science.

Kanxiang activity is the most important component of villagers individual belief practice in Guyi village. In

the whole ritual, xiangtou gets his sacred identity from divinities, and this identity will bring mystical force to him,

which is believed by patients firmly. As a result, temporary stable relations are formed among the xiangtou,

patients, and divisity in kanxiang activity, which based on the consensus folk-belief knowledge by xiangtou and

patients. In the ritual, xiangtou and patients can share the meanings in every action and narration. In my opinion,

the shared folk-belief knowledge makes the kanxiang activity meaningful, which also makes the villigers’ needs

to be expressed

References

CHEN, Q. J., & YI, X. L. (2009). Status and trend of the contemporary folkbelife studies. N.W.Ethno-National Studies, 2, 115-123. DU, X. D. (2010). Wuan Nuoxi. Beijing: Science Press. DuBois, T. D. (2004). The sacred village: Social change and religious life north china. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press. DuBois, T. D. (2009). Divinty, denomination, Xiangtou: Religion knowledge in local culture. Folklore Studies, 4, 118-134. Geertz, C. (1973). The interpretation of cultures: Selected essays. New York: Basic Books Inc. GUO, Q. T. (2004). Exorcism and money: The symbolic world of the five-fury spirits in late imperial China. Berkeley: Institute for

East Asia Studies, University of California Press. Knapp, R, G. (1999). China’s living houses: Folk beliefs, symbols and household ornamentation. Honolulu: University of Hawaii

Press. Lewis, I. M. (1989). Ecstatic religion: A study of shamanism and spirit possession. London and New York: Routledge. LI, J. L., & DING, R. (2014). Three topics on sidamen belief in modern Beijing. Folklore Studies, 1, 152-159. LI, W, Z. (2011). Sidamen. Beijing: Peking University Press. LIU, Z. G. (2007). The antropology studies on the belief in dixianof norteast China. Journal of Guangxi University for National

ITIES, 2, 15-20. Paper, J. (1988). Offering smoke: The sacred pipe and native American religion. Idaho: University of Idaho Press. Peng, M. (2010). “Religion” and Zong-jiao: Analytic categories and domestic concepts. The World Religious Cultures, 5, 62-67.


Wolf, A. P. (1974). Gods, ghosts, and ancestors: In religion and ritual in Chinese society (pp. 131-182). Stanford: Stanford University Press.

YANG, C. K. (1961). Religion in Chinese society: A study of contemporary social functions of religion and some of their historical factors. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press.

YANG, C. K. (1991). Religion in Chinese society: A study of contemporary social functions of religion and some of their historical factors. Illinois: waveland press.

YANG, N. Q. (2004). Believing in sidamen in beijing area and the sence of local place. In J. SUN (ed.), Event, memory, narrativation. Hang Zhou: Zhejiang People’s Press.

YUE, Y. Y. (2008). Jia zhong guohui: Folk belief in life. Open Times, 1, 101-121.


Common Core State Standards: What’s Next?

Rose Campbell, Kirk Gavin

Florida A&M University, Tallahassee, Florida, USA

Common Core Assessment is a national initiate that is designed to provide P-12 students with results that could be

used to help prepare them for work and college readiness. Emphasis is also placed on rigor will also be identified

while raising the curriculum standards in the United States to a competitive international level. The purpose of this

research is to examine the results from the Common Core Assessment completed in the States of New York and

Kentucky. The Common Core Assessment resulting from these states were selected because a review of the

literature determined that these were the two States in the United States that have reported test results. Specifically,

this paper will review assessment results and provide an opinion on the future implementation of Common Core

Standards in the United States.

Keywords: Common Core Assessment, State Standards, Student Achievement P-12, College Readiness, workforce

ready

Introduction

A Nation at Risk

Educating students in the public schools have been a major concern for over several decades. Many

questions have been asked about the quality of the education that students are receiving, rigor in the curriculum,

competency of administrators, teachers and other factors impacting public and private school education. The

key questions remains, how educated are students who graduate from public high schools? Are they job ready?

And are they able to compete in a global society? These are just a few of the questions asked about educating

students in this country.

In 1983 similar questions were asked and to address concerns the National Commission on Excellence in

Education conducted a study and reported the findings in a document entitled “A Nation at Risk: The

Imperative for Educational Reform that was given to Secretary of Education Bell”. These findings were shared

to provide evidence for the committee who would make recommendations to improve education in this country.

Thirty-eight recommendations divided into five major categories were presented by the Commission; they are

content, standards and expectations, time, teaching leadership and fiscal support. This report was considered a

landmark in the field of education and provided implications for reform. However, 25 years after the Nation at

Risk Report, Strong American Schools released a report about progress over that period of time. One part of the

report stated that:

While the national conversation about education would never be the same, stunningly few of the Commission’s recommendations actually have been enacted. Now is not the time for more educational research or reports or commissions.

Rose Campbell, Ph.D., Faculty Administrator, Florida A&M University. Kirk Gavin, Ph.D., Director for Teacher Induction Program, Florida A&M University.

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COMMON CORE STATE STANDARDS: WHAT’S NEXT?

1008

We have enough commonsense ideas, backed by decades of research, to significantly improve American Schools. The missing ingredient is not even educational at all. It is political. Too often, state and local leaders have tried to enact reforms of the kind recommended in A Nation at Risk only to be stymied by organized special interests and political inertia. Without vigorous national leadership to improve education, states and local school systems simply cannot overcome the obstacles to making the big changes necessary to significantly improve our nation’s K-12 schools.1

Several critiques of this report were made known to Secretary of Education Bell and some were favorable

while others provided a critical analysis of the findings.

No Child Left Behind Act of 2001 (NCLB)

During President Bush’s administration Congress reauthorized the Elementary and Secondary Education

Act which included Title I an aid program for disadvantaged students. The United States Congress renamed the

programs and clustered them under the No Child Left Behind Act of 200l (NCLB). This Act expanded the

federal role in education with a major focus of improving education for students who were disadvantaged. This

was also an opportunity to hold States and schools accountable for students’ educational progress.

The NCLB Act required States to do specific things that would promote increased student achievement

levels especially for disadvantaged students which included Annual Testing, demonstrate Academic Progress,

furnish Annual Report Cards, teachers had to be Highly Qualified, implement Research Based curriculums in

grades K-3 with emphasis on Reading First and school were required to meet Annual Yearly Progress (AYP)

(see Table 1).

Table 1

Annual Testing

New Initiative Implementation years Grade levels Subject area

Yearly State Testing 2005-2006 3-8 Reading & Mathematics

Yearly State Testing 2007-2008 4, 8, 10 Science

National Assessment of Educational Progress Every other year 4 & 8 Reading & Math

Academic Progress Proficient Level 2013-2014 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, &10 Reading & Math

Annual Yearly Progress 2005-2006 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, & 10 Reading & Math

Other measures were emphasized in NCLB Act as it referred to the school Report Card. The law indicated

by the end of the 2002-2003 school years, states must provide an annual report card showing student

achievement data, district data, and individual school information. Information on subgroups was also

requested including special need students. These reports were used to determine AYP and to document students’

learning gains over time. One of the goals clearly stated that by the 2013-2014 school year there should be

100% proficiency in reading and mathematics.

Qualifications of teachers and administrators were also highlighted, the law stated:

By the end of 2005-2006 school year, every teacher in core content areas working in a public school had to be highly qualified in each subject they taught. Under the law, highly qualified, meaning that a teacher was certified and demonstrated proficiency in the subject matter.

Secretary of Education Ernie Duncan in 2011 encouraged congress to rewrite the NCLB Act, he indicated

that as the law was implemented, States were allowed to set their own benchmarks, however, many of the states

1 A Nation at Risk-Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia, p. 3.


1009

still witness failures especial in the high schools. Both parties in congress have agreed to rewrite the law but the

new version has been slow in coming.

Problem

A large number of schools in this country are viewed as not producing students who are able to complete

in the global society for workplace job readiness and to enter college ready to face the rigor of higher education

courses. Various tests have been given to assess the level of performance of students graduating from high

schools in this country and results were quite dismal on two of the assessed areas. In the area of Reading,

students ranked at the 28th level and in the area of Mathematics, students ranked 24th, when compared to other

countries. These results became alarming to people who recognized that there was a need to take a more

analytical view at education in this country, what was being taught, how students were given instruction, how

students understood what was being taught, how students were being assess to determine mastery of skill areas

and to find out if critical thinking skills were being emphasized.

The Reason for Common Core State Standards

Stakeholders from each state got together to develop what we now refer to as the Common Core State

Standards (CCSS) the initiative to ensure that all students in American Schools will acquire skills and

knowledge needed to prepare them to demonstrate success in college or the workforce. This effort was

designed at state levels by government leaders and education professionals who were concerned about creating

national standards for the education of children. Forty-five states have voluntary adopted the CCSS along with

three territories and the District of Columbia.

Prior to the CCSS, each state established their own educational requirements and standards which led to

situations that included some states with low levels standards compared to other states. This was deemed unfair

to many students who were being held accountable to the low standards. It was also an issue of how much

value could be place on a high school diploma because requirements were vastly different. As a result,

with one set of standards for every school, a better barometer could be used to determine effective teaching and

learning.

The Implementation of Common Core State Standards in the United States

Beginning in 2010 the District of Columbia and 45 other states adopted the Common Core State Standards

in reading and math. These benchmarks were designed to better prepare students in K-12 for college and other

careers after graduating from high school. The benchmarks are considered to be equal to international standards

and that they were also developed with higher education requirements. Two and four year colleges’

expectations and barometers for considering admitting students were also included in the CCSS. All states were

now being viewed as having a leveled playing field for students (see Table 2).

Methodology

A comparative analysis was done to study the outcome of Core Curriculum Content Assessments in

various States. However the major focus was placed on two States, New York and Kentucky. These states were

among the first two released assessment data results from their states. Many of the other states who adopted the

standards had not conducted and released assessment data results.


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Table 2 Adoption of Common Core State Standards State Adoption stance Alabama Formally adopted; repeal legislation introduced in upper and lower houses, February, 2013 Alaska Non-member Arizona Formally adopted Arkansas Formally adopted California Formally adopted Colorado Formally adopted Connecticut Formally adopted Delaware Formally adopted District of Columbia Formally adopted Florida Formally adopted Georgia Formally adopted; withdrew from associated test, July 2013 Hawaii Formally adopted Idaho Formally adopted Illinois Formally adopted

Indiana Formally adopted; repeal legislation passed in State Senate; implementation suspended by law and under public review.

Iowa Formally adopted Kansas Formally adopted; defunding legislation passed Senate, narrowly failed in House, July, 2013 Kentucky Formally adopted Louisiana Formally adopted Maine Formally adopted Maryland Formally endorsed Massachusetts Formally adopted Michigan Formally adopted Minnesota Adopted (English standards only, math standards rejected) Mississippi Formally adopted Missouri Formally adopted Montana Formally adopted Nebraska Initiative member (will not adopt) Nevada Formally adopted New Hampshire Formally adopted New Jersey Formally adopted New Mexico Formally adopted New York Formally adopted North Carolina Formally adopted North Dakota Formally adopted Ohio Formally adopted Oklahoma Formally adopted; tentatively withdrew from associated test, July 2013 Oregon Formally adopted Pennsylvania Formally adopted Rhode Island Formally adopted South Carolina Formally adopted South Dakota Formally adopted Tennessee Formally adopted Texas Non-member Utah Formally adopted Vermont Formally adopted Virginia Initiative member (will not adopt) Washington Formally adopted West Virginia Formally adopted Wisconsin Formally adopted Wyoming Formally adopted


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Kentucky Common Core Assessment Results

The state of Kentucky was the first state to begin using the Common Core Standards and implementing a

curriculum in mathematics and English during the 2010 school year. Kentucky led the way by bringing the

standards into the classroom and testing students on them during the 2011-2012 school years. According to data

released, high school proficiency scores in reading and mathematics fell, however, the percentage of students

who demonstrated readiness for college or for work rose from 38% in 2011 to 47% in 2012 (see Table 3).

Table 3

Readiness for College or Workforce 2010 2011 2012 2013

34% 38% 47% 54%

Graduation Rate Graduation Rate

80% -- -- 86%

Three years later in 2013 it was reported by Time magazine that the high school graduation rate had

increased from 80% to 86% three years. Accordingly, it was also pointed out that test scores were also up by

2% as documented by the Common Core test. This indicator concluded that students were college ready or

career ready using the CCSS assessment, scores were up from 34% in 2010 to 54% in 2013.

New York Common Core Assessment Results

In today’s society, college and workforce skills are necessary for students to be able to compete in a global

society. In the state of New York, prior to the adoption of the CCSS emphasis was placed on if students were

on track to graduate from high school, not if they were ready for college or ready for work. After New York

join with other states to adopt the CCSS focusing on defining what students need to know and be able to

demonstrate at each grade level before graduating from high school was now the number one priority.

There was a new commitment to prepare student to become college and workforce ready upon completing

high school. Prior research speaks to the fact that successful college students are bettered prepared for careers

and the job market. However, for those students who do not attend college must have an opportunity to enter

the workforce skill ready. Therefore, with the implementation of the CCSS overtime should allow teachers and

students to become more successful by the time they graduate from high school.

Schools will be able to better monitor skills taught, use data to plan lesson and provide better opportunities

for students to be success in their classes. Teachers would also have opportunities to learn different teaching

strategies, differentiate instruction and incorporate more hands on and student lead activities. CCSS establish

high standards for the skills that are required by students to be college ready and career ready.

New York was one of the first states to establish a new baseline to measure the progress of student’s on

the Common Core Learning Standards. Proficiency is now based on Common Core Assessment results. These

results provide a transparent baseline that measure student progress and preparedness for college and careers.

New York’s growth scores are derived from the year to year data comparison results from the Common Core

Assessment for the 2012-2013. According to the National Association of Educational Progress (NAEP) test are

more rigorous and Common Core aligned than the previous NYS test and as a result provide an approximation

of how NYC has performed over time when held to the higher standards (see Table 4). New baseline

percentage data is represented in Table 5, indicating students at or above proficiency in the areas of


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Mathematics and English. The two additional tables are reflective of those students who demonstrated mastery

of skills at or above the proficiency standards for New York State. English Language Arts Results were

indicated in Table 6 and the Mathematic Results were reflected in Table 7.

Table 4

Percent of All NYC Students at or Above Proficient on the New NYS Common Core Test & NAEP

Math English

NAEP to NYS Common Core NAEP 2003 to NYS Common Core

2013 Gains +44.4% 2013 Gains +20.0%

20.5 28.0 29.6 22.0 26.5 26.4 NAEP 2003

NAEP 2011

NYU 2013

NAEP 2003

NAEP 2011

NYC 2013

2013 Proficiency of NYC Students in Math and English by Grade

The 2013 NYS Common Core Tests represent a new baseline for our students.

Table 5

Percent of NYC Students at or Above Proficiency

Math

33.1 35.2 29.6 28.8 25.0 25.7 29.6

3rd 4th 5th 6th 7th 8th 3-8

English

28.1 27.2 28.7 23.3 25.5 25.4 26.4

3rd 4th 5th 6th 7th 8th 3-8

The 2013 English Language Arts Results (ELA) indicated that 31.1% of students in grades 3-8 across the

State met or exceeded the proficiency standard (NYS Levels 4 or 4), reflecting a new baseline relative to the

Common Core Standards. In 2010, cut scores changed, but the standards and scale remained the same.

Beginning in 2013, the standard scale, and cut scores changed to measure the Common Core.

Table 6

2013 English Language Arts Results Grades 3-8 77.4% 53.2% 53.8% 55.1% 31.1%

2009 2010 2011 2012 2013

In mathematics, 31% of grades 3-8 students across the State met or exceeded the proficiency standard

(NYS Levels 3 or 4) in Math, reflecting a new baseline relative to the Common Core Standards. The cut scores

changed, but the standards and scale remained the same. In 2013, the standards scale, and cut scores changed to

measure the Common Core.

Table 7

2013 Mathematics Results Grades 3-8 86.4% 61.0% 63.3% 64.8% 31.0%

2009 2010 2011 2012 2013

According to the U.S. Department of Labor and the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, 2011, ACT. It was

indicated that high school dropouts earn an average income of $23,088 compared to workers with a 4-year


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college degree who earns a higher average income of $53,976. This vast difference in income levels indicates

the need to encourage high school and college graduation while preparing students for the job market (see

Table 8). “The Condition of College and Career Readiness”, 2012 indicated that college and careers are more

important than ever for today’s students. Previous New York State (NYS) tests measured whether students

were on track for high school graduation, not whether they were ready for college. In 2010, NYS joined other

states in adopting the Common Core standards—defining what students need to know and be able to do at each

grade level to graduate readiness for college. Students who are successful in college are better prepared for

21st-century careers, and most of the fastest-growing 21st-century jobs require a postsecondary degree,

nationally, just 25% of high school students are ready for college and careers.

Table 8

Average Income According to Levels of Education

Average annual income based on education levels

High School Dropout $23,088

High School Diploma $32,552

2-year College Degree $39,884

4-year College Degree $53,976

Professional Degree $83,720

The Common Core sets a high bar for the skills students need to be college and career ready.

Future Research

States who are participating in the Assessment of Common Core will have the opportunity to present their

assessment data results to be shared with other participating states for critical analysis. This data could possibly

be used to not only help provide baseline data needed to create more rigor in the curriculum to meet the needs

of all students, but to serve as another measure for evaluating student mastery of skills taught in school. Critical

to these assessments would be the focus of students who would graduate from high school with skills necessary

for the work and college readiness. Most states have already signed on to using the test that is being designed

by The Partnership for Assessment of Readiness for College and Careers and the Smart Balanced Assessment

Consortium.

Conclusion

As we analyzed the data results from New York State and the State of Kentucky, it was very clear that

both states had more work to do in an effort to improve their graduation rate focusing on the Common Core

State Standards Assessment with qualified students meeting the grade level criteria. In retrospect, as we think

about the various recommendations which have occurred in education over the past 30 years, we must

understand that in each instance the rationale has been for improving the educational process for our children.

However, most of those mandates have come from basically an arena with few educators involved. This time

with the Common Core State Standards, most of the people involved came with an education background. As a

result, it appears that this time we will eventually witness different assessment data results, students better

prepared for high school graduation and a larger number of students meeting the requirements to enter the work

market or to attend college ready to become successful.


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References Molnar, M. (2014). State Chamber of Commerce defend common core. Education Week, 33(19), 1-10. National Commission on Excellence in Education. (1983). A nation at risk: The imperative for educational reform. Washington,

D.C.: United States Department of Education. National Governors Association Center for Best Practices, Council of Chief State School Officers. (2010). The Common Core

State Standards. Washington, D.C. U.S. Department of Education. (2001). No Child Left Behind Act of 2001. Proceedings from 107th U.S. Congress, Public Law

(pp. 107-110). Ujifusa, A. (2012). Scores drop on Kentucky’s common core. Aligned Test Education Week, 32(11), 1-20. Walcott, D. (2013). New York State common core test results: New York city grades 3-8. Retrieved from

http://www.nyc.gov/html/om/pdf/2013/2013_math_ela_deck.pdf Walcott, D. (2013). Walcott: Common core test results are about the future of our children, not adults. Retrieved from

http://www.nydailynews.com/new-york/education/walcott-test-results-adults-article-1.1420870

Journal of Literature and Art Studies Vol 4. Issue 11 2014

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