New Perspectives in Language, Discourse and Translation Studies

Second Language Learning and Teaching Series Editor Mirosław Pawlak

For further volumes: http://www.springer.com/series/10129

About the Series

The series brings together volumes dealing with different aspects of learning and teaching second and foreign languages. The titles included are both monographs and edited collections focusing on a variety of topics ranging from the processes underlying second language acquisition, through various aspects of language learning in instructed and non-instructed settings, to different facets of the teaching process, including syllabus choice, materials design, classroom practices and evaluation. The publications reflect state-of-the-art developments in those areas, they adopt a wide range of theoretical perspectives and follow diverse research paradigms. The intended audience are all those who are interested in naturalistic and classroom second language acquisition, including researchers, methodologists, curriculum and materials designers, teachers and undergraduate and graduate students undertaking empirical investigations of how second languages are learnt and taught.

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Mirosław Pawlak

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Jakub Bielak

Editors

New Perspectives in Language, Discourse and Translation Studies

Editors Mirosław Pawlak Adam Mickiewicz University Faculty of Pedagogy and Fine Arts Department of English Studies Nowy S´wiat 28-30 62-800 Kalisz Poland [email protected]

Jakub Bielak Adam Mickiewicz University Faculty of Pedagogy and Fine Arts Department of English Studies Nowy S´wiat 28-30 62-800 Kalisz Poland [email protected]

ISBN 978-3-642-20082-3 e-ISBN 978-3-642-20083-0 DOI 10.1007/978-3-642-20083-0 Springer Heidelberg Dordrecht London New York Library of Congress Control Number: 2011930818 # Springer-Verlag Berlin Heidelberg 2011 This work is subject to copyright. All rights are reserved, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilm or in any other way, and storage in data banks. Duplication of this publication or parts thereof is permitted only under the provisions of the German Copyright Law of September 9, 1965, in its current version, and permission for use must always be obtained from Springer. Violations are liable to prosecution under the German Copyright Law. The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use. Cover design: SPi Publisher Services Printed on acid-free paper Springer is part of Springer Science+Business Media (www.springer.com)

Acknowledgement

The editors would like to express their gratitude to Professor Piotr Stalmaszczyk (University of Ło´dz´, Poland), who has kindly agreed to review the papers included in the present volume. His invaluable comments and suggestions have without doubt greatly enhanced the quality of this work.

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Contents

Part I

Phonetics and Phonology

1

Aspiration in Polish: A Sound Change in Progress? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3 Ewa Waniek-Klimczak

2

Noise as a Phonological Element: On the Representation of Plosives and Affricates . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13 Anna Bloch-Rozmej

3

Word and Foot Minimality in English: A Metrical Government Analysis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25 Tomasz Ciszewski

Part II

Grammar: Morphology and Syntax

4

The Psychological Reality of Grammar. A Cognitive Linguistics Perspective . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43 Henryk Kardela

5

A Morphologist’s Perspective on “Event Structure Theory” of Nominalizations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 61 Maria Bloch-Trojnar

6

A Recalcitrant Nature of Object Experiencers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 77 Sylwiusz Z˙ychlin´ski

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On the Representations of Motion Events: Perspectives from L2 Research . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 91 Jolanta Latkowska

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Contents

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On the Interplay Between Prepositional Categories. The Case of the Polish od–do Construction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 103 Daria Be˛beniec

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Governed Prepositions in English: A Corpus-Based Study . . . . . . . . . 117 Jerzy Gaszewski

Part III

Historical Linguistics

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Reflections on Structural Variation in Old English Verbs . . . . . . . . . . 137 Magdalena Charzyn´ska-Wo´jcik

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The Semantic Analysis of Old English unnan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 153 Agnieszka Wawrzyniak

Part IV

Pragmatics, Discourse Analysis and Sociolinguistics

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“When We Talk, It Never Materializes”: Functions of Off-Record Communication in Conflict Talk . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 165 Joanna Bobin

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Territorialization in Political Discourse: A Pragma-Linguistic Study of Jerzy Buzek’s Inaugural Speeches . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 177 Katarzyna Molek-Kozakowska

14

From a Complaint through Therapy to Recovery: Patient Indexicality in Medical Case Reports . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 189 Magdalena Murawska

15

Beyond and within Standard English: Categories, Category Boundaries and Fuzziness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 201 Maciej Rataj

Part V

Translation

16

Construction Grammar as a Framework for Describing Translation: A Prolegomenon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 215 Izabela Szyman´ska

17

Crossing the Frontiers of Linguistic Typology: Lexical Differences and Translation Patterns in English and Russian Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 227 Łukasz Grabowski

Introduction

Recent years have seen important developments in the field of linguistics, or the scientific study of language, which can be ascribed to the accumulation of empirical data, the emergence of new theories of language as well as the rapid growth of new technologies. As a result, apart from traditional areas such as, for example, historical linguistics, phonetics, phonology, morphology, syntax or semantics, current overviews of the discipline recognize the fact that formal aspects of language have to be considered within the context of their use, with the effect that pragmatic, discoursal and sociolinguistic dimensions also need to be taken into account. In addition to this, considerable emphasis is now laid on the study of language disorders and the relationship between language and the brain, both of which fall within the scope of neurolinguistics, the way in which language is represented in the brain, the processes responsible for its acquisition, use and attrition, the phenomenon of multilingualism, the description of real-life language use made possible by advances in computational linguistics, or the different purposes for which our knowledge in these areas can be employed, which comes within the purview of applied linguistics. Worth noting as well is the emergence of new theories of language, especially usage-based models, such as Langacker’s Cognitive Grammar, which have quite successfully begun to challenge, and in some cases to complement, the well-established formal and functional accounts and are potentially major contenders when it comes to explaining how languages work, how they are acquired and how they are used. The present volume recognizes all of these developments and it is a collection of papers representing most recent developments in Polish linguistics, specifically in the fields of language, discourse and translation studies. The book is divided into five parts, each including papers representative of traditionally distinguished linguistic subdisciplines such as phonetics and phonology, morphology and syntax, historical linguistics, pragmatics, discourse analysis and sociolinguistics, and translation. The perspectives from which these areas are considered in specific contributions, however, are far from traditional since in many cases they strive to reconcile more conventional and innovative perspectives by drawing, among others, upon

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Introduction

latest advances in corpus linguistics, cognitive linguistics, construction grammar or pragmatics. Since the contributions included in the publication touch upon such a variety of subdisciplines of linguistics and do so from such diverse theoretical positions, it is likely to provide an impulse for further theorizing and research for scholars, as well as constituting an important point of reference for graduate students and lecturers teaching courses in linguistics. Mirosław Pawlak

Biographical Notes

Daria Be˛beniec, PhD, is a lecturer at the Department of English, Maria CurieSkłodowska University, Lublin. Her research interests include polysemy, vagueness, meaning representation, case semantics, language-specific encoding of spatial relations, constructional meaning and methodological issues in prepositional analysis. Dr hab. Anna Bloch-Rozmej is affiliated with the Celtic Department and the History of English Department in the Institute of English at John Paul II Catholic University of Lublin as well as the Institute of English at the Holy Cross University, Kielce. She specializes in linguistics, phonology in particular. She is author of numerous articles devoted to the phonology of the Celtic languages, English, German and Polish, published both in Poland and abroad. Her latest monograph is Melody in Government Phonology exploring the phonological phenomena pertaining to the subsegmental structure of sounds. Other areas of interest involve methodology of English teaching and phonetics. Maria Bloch-Trojnar, PhD in Linguistics, is a lecturer in the Department of Celtic, John Paul II Catholic University of Lublin. Her major research interests include morphology and its interfaces with other grammatical components, in particular de-verbal nominalizations, lexicology, English, Celtic and Slavic languages. She is author of Polyfunctionality in morphology – A study of verbal nouns in Modern Irish (2006, Lublin, Wydawnictwo KUL) and editor of Perspectives on Celtic languages (2009, Lublin, Wydawnictwo KUL). She has published among others with E´igse: A Journal of Irish Studies and Journal of Celtic Linguistics. Joanna Bobin, MA, is a teacher at the State School of Higher Professional Education in Gorzo´w Wlkp. and a doctoral student of linguistic pragmatics at the School of English, Adam Mickiewicz University, Poznan´. Her academic interests include pragmatic theories of politeness and impoliteness, conflict typology and the importance of context for conflict analysis, as well as literary theory and modern drama.

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Biographical Notes

Magdalena Charzyn´ska-Wo´jcik, PhD, is Assistant Professor in the Department of English Historical Linguistics at John Paul II Catholic University of Lublin. Research interests: Old English syntax with special focus on impersonals, Experiencer verbs, passive constructions, (clausal) ditransitive verbs, subjectless constructions, the status of clausal constituents and the syntax of the Old English verb. Tomasz Ciszewski, PhD, is a lecturer at the Institute of English, University of Gdan´sk. He received his MA and PhD degrees from the University of Ło´dz´ in 1994 and 2000. His fields of expertise include linguistics, phonetics and phonology. His most important publications are The English stress system: Conditions and parameters. Studia Je˛zykoznawcze Wszechnicy Mazurskiej w Olecku (2005), “The stem-suffix conflict? The sources of variability of stress patterns”. In Issues in accents of English, 195–211, Cambridge Scholars Publishing (2008), and “Theoretical modelling of word-level isochrony in English”, In Issues in accents of English 2: Variability and norm, 261–275, Cambridge Scholars Publishing (2010). Jerzy Gaszewski is a doctoral student at the University of Ło´dz´. His main research interests are comparative linguistics and language typology. His research so far has combined syntactic and semantic issues and has focused on minor lexical classes like particles and prepositions. The latter are investigated in his doctoral dissertation as well as in the present paper. Łukasz Grabowski, PhD, is Assistant Professor at the Institute of English Studies, Opole University, Opole. He specializes in corpus linguistics, translation studies (theoretical and applied), bilingual lexicography, language typology and sociolinguistics. He has authored over 15 articles on, among others, application of English and Russian language corpora in didactics of translation and lexicography. He is also interested in computer-assisted methods of text analysis. Henryk Kardela is Professor of Linguistics at the Department of English, Maria Curie-Skłodowska University, Lublin. His fields of interest include syntax, semantics and philosophy of science. He is author of 3 books (A grammar of Polish and English reflexives, Lublin: UMCS, 1985, WH-movement in English and Polish. Theoretical implications, Lublin: UMCS – both written in the spirit of Noam Chomsky’s Government and Binding Theory; and a book written in the framework of Ronald Langacker’s Cognitive Grammar, Dimensions and parameters in grammar. Studies on A/D asymmetries and subjectivity relations in Polish, Lublin: UMCS, 2000); editor and co-editor of 12 linguistic volumes, and author of many articles on syntax, semantics and lexicography. Jolanta Latkowska (PhD in Applied Linguistics, University of Silesia, 1998) is Assistant Professor in the Department of English Studies at the University of Silesia, Poland. Her research addresses cognitive and linguistic aspects of bilingualism, including L2-induced restructuring of the L1, semantic and conceptual transfer, as well as bidirectional interaction of languages within the construct of multicompetence.

Biographical Notes

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Katarzyna Molek-Kozakowska, PhD, is Assistant Professor at the Institute of English Studies, Opole University, Opole. She specializes in pragma-linguistics, Critical Discourse Analysis and cultural/media studies. She has published over twenty critical studies of mass-mediated political discourse, focusing on persuasion, identity polarization, personalization, stereotyping or metaphors. She is also interested in the methodology of qualitative research and critical media literacy. Magdalena Murawska is Assistant Professor in the Department of Sociolinguistics and Discourse Studies in the School of English at Adam Mickiewicz University, Poznan, Poland. Her main research interests lie in the field of sociolinguistics. Her PhD dissertation concerned patient imaging in case reports from British and American medical journals, with particular attention to the presentation of the patient’s experience of illness. Maciej Rataj obtained his Master’s degree in English at the University of Gdan´sk in 2006. He is now an Assistant Reader at the Institute of English and a translator of Polish. He has written several papers on sociolinguistics and normative linguistics and has presented his research at several conferences in Poland and abroad. Izabela Szyman´ska, PhD, is Assistant Professor at the Institute of English Studies, Warsaw University. Her interests range from theoretical and contrastive linguistics, especially the Construction Grammar framework, through the teaching of English for academic purposes, to translation studies. In this last field, her research focuses on text-linguistic and pragmatic issues, on the interface between linguistic and cultural aspects of translation, and on the translation of children’s literature. Ewa Waniek-Klimczak is Professor and Head of the Department of English Grammar and Phonetics at the University of Ło´dz´, Poland. She teaches phonetics and phonology of English, sociolinguistics and accents of English courses. Her research interests include bilingual Polish-English speech and the pronunciation of English in the EFL/EIL contexts. She organizes conferences on native and nonnative accents of English and publishes books, articles and collections of edited papers on various issues in applied linguistic phonetics. Agnieszka Wawrzyniak, PhD, graduated from Adam Mickiewicz University, Poznan´, and received a doctoral degree from this university in 2006 on the basis of a dissertation entitled The emergence of epistemic senses in preterite-present verbs in Old English. She is currently employed in the Department of English Studies, Faculty of Pedagogy and Fine Arts, Adam Mickiewicz University, Kalisz. Sylwiusz Z˙ychlin´ski is a PhD student of syntax in the School of English at Adam Mickiewicz University, Poznan´, working in the Department of Polish-English Comparative Linguistics, interested mainly in the syntax and semantics of psychological predicates and reflexives, also a member of a grant-holding team working on the selected issues of control in Polish and English.

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Part I

Phonetics and Phonology

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Chapter 1

Aspiration in Polish: A Sound Change in Progress? Ewa Waniek-Klimczak

Abstract Aspiration in the production of /p/t/k/ before a stressed vowel has been traditionally believed to be typical for English, but not Polish. In the speech of Polish-English bilinguals, the length of the Voice Onset Time in English and Polish has been found to be conditioned by phonetic universal effects as well as the stylistic and attitudinal factors, with aspiration functioning as one of the markers. Recently, the use of aspiration in Polish seems to be growing not as a sign of English-accented speech but rather an element of emphatic style. The study reported here explores the use of the longer VOT values in Polish from the perspective of stylistic conditioning, adopting the attention-to-speech paradigm and discussing the relationship between the observed variability and the predictions formed on the basis of universal phonetic tendencies. The observed tendency to lengthen the VOT values in the universally lengthening contexts is claimed to be further affected by the attention paid to speech, which suggests a possible prestigious function of aspiration in Polish. The intriguing questions emerging from the study are whether the change is the effect of language experience and whether it spreads from bilingual/advanced learners of English to monolingual speakers.

1.1

Introduction

As a phonetic phenomenon, aspiration can be defined perceptually as a strong burst of air that may accompany the release of a plosive, or acoustically – as a relatively long time-lag between the release of the plosive and the onset of voicing for the following vowel. It is the acoustic approach that has been most commonly used ever since Lisker and Abramson (1964) demonstrated that the length of the Voice Onset Time corresponds to distinct phonetic categories, such as (pre-) voiced, E. Waniek-Klimczak (*) University of Ło´dz´, Ło´dz´, Poland e-mail: [email protected] M. Pawlak and J. Bielak (eds.), New Perspectives in Language, Discourse and Translation Studies, Second Language Learning and Teaching, DOI 10.1007/978-3-642-20083-0_1, # Springer-Verlag Berlin Heidelberg 2011

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voiceless unaspirated (corresponding to short lag VOT values) and voiceless aspirated (long lag values). Although more categories have been recognized on the perceptual basis (including voiced aspirated), the VOT approach showed that languages tend to contrast between the two categories, with one or three-way opposition limited to specific contexts (Cho and Ladefoged 1999). In Polish and English voicing is signalled by two-way oppositions specific to particular contexts, with the exception of a word-final position in Polish where voicing tends to be neutralized (see Jassem and Richter 1989 for a detailed discussion). The choice of the phonetic categories contrasting voicing differs in a pre-stressed vowel position, where Polish contrasts pre-voiced (lead) against unaspirated voiceless plosives, while English differentiates between voiceless unaspirated and voiceless aspirated plosives in most dialects. The choice of the implementation strategy for the voicing contrast has been found not to be accidental: out of the three categories, voiceless unaspirated has been claimed to be the only “unmarked” realization (Nathan 1997), corresponding to the category boundary found in new-born babies (Jusczyk 1997). Following universal preferences, language systems can be expected to contrast voiceless unaspirated stops with one of the marked phonetic categories: aspirated or voiced ones; if the two marked options occur, especially in language contact situations they are used in variation with the preferred, marked-unmarked choice (Nathan 1997). When treated as an element of the physical reality of speech, the three categories correspond to a range of the VOT values measured, with the individual instances interpreted by means of the “goodness-of-fit” criterion (see e.g. Cho and Ladefoged 1999). Most typically, the voiced category corresponds to the voice lead (negative VOT), voiceless unaspirated to the VOT between 0 and 30 milliseconds (ms), and voiceless aspirated to values above 30 ms. However, the actual duration of the VOT is strongly dependent on phonetic conditioning, including such factors as the place of stricture, the height of the following vowel, the degree of stress and the length of the word (Maddieson 1997). Universally, the further back the place of closure, the longer the VOT; the VOT is also longer before a high than non-high vowel, in one-syllable words and under stress. The articulatory contextual factors have been referred to as “mechanical” universals as they reflect aerodynamic properties of the vocal tracts. The effect of stress, on the other hand, is more variable, and has been described as a tendency rather than a regularity (“ecological” universals in Maddieson 1997). The above considerations form an interesting background for the study of aspiration in Polish. On the one hand, an early study of the VOT values in Polish conducted by Keating et al. (1981) showed that the phonological system of Polish does not use the phonetic category voiceless aspirated. The mean VOT values for the three voiceless plosive categories /p/, /t/, /k/ cited in the study (see Table 1.1)

Table 1.1 The VOT measurements in milliseconds for Polish (after Keating et al. 1981) and English (Lisker and Abramson 1964) /p/ /t/ /k/ Polish 22 28 52 English 59 67 84

1 Aspiration in Polish: A Sound Change in Progress?

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range from 22 ms for bilabials to 52 ms in velars. On the other hand, however, the mean value for velar plosives reported in the study exceeds 30, which can suggest that the mechanical effect of a velar lengthening results in the tendency for weak aspiration in /k/, even if there is no reason to claim that Polish uses aspiration at the phonetic category level. In fact, when compared to the mean values for English voiceless aspirated stops, the VOT values for Polish follow the lengthening pattern, with a stronger effect of velar lengthening when compared to the bilabial plosive (2.3 for Polish vs. 1.4 in English). The evidence for the tendency to lengthen the VOT in a velar plosive in Polish in the data from early 1980s provides motivation for further studies into the use of aspiration in Polish. Although mentioned as an element of the system of English difficult for Polish learners (e.g. Sobkowiak 1996) and often treated as typical for English-accented Polish, aspiration can be increasingly heard in Polish, especially in emphatic contexts. While the variable use of aspiration can be possibly explained on the basis of phonetic universals, there seems to be another intriguing possibility of the potential source of what might be considered a potential change in progress in Polish: the effect of English.

1.2

Acoustic Study

The study reported here assumes that aspirated plosives are possible variants in pre-stressed vowel word-initial position in Polish. The assumption is based on the findings by Keating et al. (1981) with respect to the length of the VOT value for the velar plosive /k/, phonetic universal tendencies for the lengthening of the VOT in specific phonetic contexts, including emphasis, and on personal observation pointing to an increased use of this variant by Polish speakers in their Polish mode. The design of the study reflects the expected effect of phonetic universals and a possible effect of the phonetic transfer from English, as one of the possible sources of change explored here is the effect of language experience. The data presented here come from a larger study aiming to explore the effect of style, language experience and phonetic context on the use of the VOT values (Waniek-Klimczak 2011); additionally, the data reported for bilingual Polish-English speakers (Waniek-Klimczak 2005) are used for comparison.

1.2.1

Method

Two groups of Polish speakers with different degrees of English experience recorded experimental words in carrier sentences and dialogues. The two groups consisted of 10 speakers each, with an equal proportion of male and female speakers. Both groups represented young, educated Poles (age range 20–30, university education).

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Group 1, monolingual Polish speakers (“Pol”), claimed minimal experience in English; Group 2, on the other hand, included proficient Polish speakers of English, who use English in their every-day work in Poland (“Staff”). The speakers recorded the following test words: One syllable words pił ‘he drank’, pan ‘mister’, kin ‘cinemas’, kat ‘executioner’ Two syllable words piwo ‘beer’, parking ‘parking’, kipi ‘boils over’, kanał ‘channel’ The test words contained two voiceless plosives: bilabial /p/ and velar /k/ in the following context of a high and non-high vowel in one or two syllable words. Following the predictions made on the basis of mechanistic phonetic universals, the VOT is expected to be longer in velars than bilabials, before a high than a non-high vowel and in shorter, monosyllabic words. In order to check the stylistic effect of emphasis, the words were recorded in two styles: word-reading in identical carrier sentences (I am saying . . .. .) and in humorous dialogues where an emphatic context was created for the test words. The predicted lengthening effect of the emphasis was based on implicational, “ecological” universals. Moreover, longer VOT values in the text rather than word reading were expected to reflect the variable nature of aspiration in Polish. Following the attention-to-speech paradigm (Labov 1972), more standard-like articulation corresponds to a higher level of attention and language awareness; consequently, the more careful word reading style can be predicted to be less conducive to aspiration than less-controlled, more emphatic dialogue reading.

1.2.2

Results

The results presented in this section refer to the mean values for the VOT measured from the waveform and spectrographic analysis of the recordings performed with the use of the Wavesurfer software. The general results obtained from the mean measurements across the styles and word length for the two groups of speakers point to the effect of language experience in the higher range of values consistently used by the ‘Staff’ group, with the parallel effect of the place of articulation and the height of the following vowel (Fig. 1.1). The relationship between the two groups proves consistent within each style, i.e. the more experienced group regularly produces longer VOT values in all the test words in both styles (Figs. 1.2 and 1.3). The comparison of the results between the styles for the two groups shows that although there are differences in the degree of lengthening in relation to individual phonetic context characteristics across the styles, both groups maintain a similar pattern of universally conditioned VOT length. Interestingly, however, the pattern proves to be more regular in the case of more English- (and aspitation-) experienced group in the more careful, word reading style. Moreover, the same group seems to be more sensitive to emphatic, dialogue reading style. The above

1 Aspiration in Polish: A Sound Change in Progress?

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Fig. 1.1 Mean VOT (ms) values for /p/ and /k/ in the context of high and non-high vowels across the styles and word-length by the two groups of speakers, N ¼ 10  4 in each group

Fig. 1.2 Mean VOT values (ms) for words read in carrier sentences by the two groups of speakers (N ¼ 10 for each group)

tentative observations may suggest that the “Staff” group not only use longer VOT values across the context, but are also more likely to lengthen the VOT in emphatic speech. In fact, the comparison of the mean values across the style for both groups illustrates this tendency for the “Staff” group more than “Pol” (Figs. 1.4 and 1.5). Apart from the distribution of values, let us notice that both groups use the VOT values in the range higher than expected for unaspirated plosives in all the cases except for /p/ in the following context of a non-high vowel, where the values drop to 20 ms for the “Pol” group and barely exceed 30 ms for the “Staff”. It is in this context, however, that we can observe an interesting effect of style in the case of the word pan in the more English-experienced, “Staff” group.

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100 92

90 80

74

70

68

67

60

59

50

50

50

45

40 34

30

Staff

54

50 37

Pol 36

31

20

20

18

10

0 piłT

piwoT

panT

parkingT

kinT

kipiT

katT

kanałT

Fig. 1.3 Mean VOT values (ms) for words read in dialogues by the two groups of speakers (N ¼ 10 for each group)

Fig. 1.4 Mean VOT (ms) in two styles for the group “Staff”, N ¼ 10

Fig. 1.5 Mean VOT (ms) in two styles for the group “Pol”, N ¼ 10

1 Aspiration in Polish: A Sound Change in Progress?

1.3

9

Discussion

Due to a small number of observations, the data presented in the previous section do not make it possible to draw any firm conclusions as to the effect of individual variables. However, the overall results seem to be clearly suggestive of the general tendency for the speakers to use longer VOT values than expected in the production of the phonetic category “voiceless unaspirated”, with the exception of /p/ in the Englishinexperienced, “Pol” group. Although the tendency to lengthen the VOT as the effect of English experience seems much stronger than the effect of style, both these factors contribute to the VOT lengthening. Contrary to our expectations though, it is the more careful, slower speech style that elicits longer VOT values, suggesting that the effect of emphasis and a possible tendency not to produce aspiration in a more controlled style of speech in Polish may not be relevant. These tentative results might be interpreted in terms of the acceptance of the aspirated plosive as a possible variant, with both the “Staff” and the “Pol” group aspirating the initial plosives in words such as pił, piwo, kin, kipi. Moreover, the “Staff” group aspirates plosives in non-high vowel contexts – the tendency which may spread as the result of their English experience, overriding the phonetic universal factors. The tendency to use aspiration in Polish in the “Staff” group may suggest the presence of the elements of an English accent in their Polish, the tendency often mentioned in connection with Polish-English bilinguals, as a highly marked feature of “accented Polish”. The every-day use of English in this group would certainly make them possible candidates for bilinguals, in spite of the Polish surroundings. The fact that the “Staff” members tend to have a predominantly Polish-accented English experience in their every-day work may in fact correspond to the bilingual experience of foreign-accented target language in their experience in the English speaking countries. Let us remember, however, that the continued amount of Polish

Fig. 1.6 Mean VOT values for /p/ and /k/ in Polish: monolingual vs. bilingual Polish-English speakers; (data for Pol 1981: Keating et al. 1981; bilinguals: Waniek-Klimczak 2005)

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experience is undoubtedly much richer in the Polish rather than immigrant setting. In other words, if Polish-English bilinguals use aspirated plosives in their Polish, their production will be interpreted as the result of a cross-linguistic effect; however, when a similar process takes place internally in the system, we need to consider the possibility of a different, language-internal change. Interestingly, however, the comparison between the data discussed above and the results reported in the course of the study into the so-called Early and Late immigrants, with the age of immigration below 12 and over 18, shows a parallel tendency (Fig. 1.6). When compared to the data from 1981, the mean values for the /p/ and for /k/ increased for all speakers. The difference is small in the case of the Englishless-experienced “Pol” group; in the case of the “Staff”, however, the mean values used exceed the ones measured for the Early bilinguals. While these results need to be treated with caution as they come from different studies, investigating the VOT in different contexts, the magnitude of the difference and the tendency for change suggest an interesting tendency.

1.4

Conclusion

The results presented in the study offer tentative support for the main claim: the tendency to use the VOT values typical for aspirated voiceless plosives has been found in Polish spoken by young educated speakers. The degree of aspiration varies, with velar plosives aspirated more than bilabials. The effect of phonetic universals is attested for all speakers; however, the use of aspiration cannot be explained by the emphatic style of speech. Although emphasis does create favourable conditions for aspiration, the degree of lengthening and the extent to which aspiration is used depends on the speakers’ experience of English. While much further work is needed before it might be possible to determine the source of this change, the use of aspiration in Polish does seem to be related to the experience of aspiration in English. The fact that proficient speakers of English aspirate in Polish may not be surprising as an element of language interaction; however, the lack of the tendency to avoid aspiration in the most careful speech style, eliciting most target-like forms, suggests that the use of aspiration may well be a change in progress that might lead to the need to include voiceless aspirated as one of the phonetic categories in Polish.

References Cho, T. and P. Ladefoged. 1999. Variation and universals in VOT: Evidence from 18 languages. Journal of Phonetics 27: 207–229. Jassem, W. and W. Richter. 1989. Neutralization of voicing in Polish obstruents. Journal of Phonetics 17: 205–212.

1 Aspiration in Polish: A Sound Change in Progress?

11

Jusczyk, P. 1997. The discovery of language. Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press. Keating, P., M. Mikos´ and W. Ganong III. 1981. A cross-language study of range of voice onset time in the perception of stop consonant voicing. Journal of Acoustical Society of America 70: 1260–1271. Labov, W. 1972. Sociolinguistic patterns. Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press. Lisker, L. and Abramson, A. S. 1964. A cross-linguistic study of voicing in initial stops: Acoustic measurements. Word 20: 384–422. Maddieson, I. 1997. Phonetic universals. In The handbook of phonetic science, eds. W. J. Hardcastle and J. Laver, 619–639. Oxford: Blackwell. Nathan, G. S. 1997. On the non-acquisition of an English sound pattern. In Second language speech, eds. A. James and J. Leather, 181–185. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Sobkowiak, W. 1996. English phonetics for Poles. Poznan´: Bene Nati. Waniek-Klimczak, E. 2005. Temporal parameters in second language speech: applied phonetics approach. Ło´dz´: Wydawnictwo Uniwersytetu Ło´dzkiego. Waniek-Klimczak, E. 2011. Aspiration and style: A sociophonetic study of the VOT in Polish learners of English. In Achievements and perspectives in SLA of speech: New Sounds 2010, eds. M. Wrembel, M. Kul and K. Dziubalska-Kołaczyk, 303–317. Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang.

.

Chapter 2

Noise as a Phonological Element: On the Representation of Plosives and Affricates Anna Bloch-Rozmej

Abstract This paper is devoted to the problem of the noise component in the phonological representation of consonantal segments, plosives and affricates in particular. In this brief discussion, arguments will be supplied in favour of awarding this property the status of a phonological primitive capable of manifesting itself as an independent segment as well as combining with other such primary elements to form larger, more complex melodic structures. After the phonetic characteristics of noise have been introduced, we shall explore a number of melody-related phenomena which clearly indicate that noise should be recognised as an independent phonological element. In particular, special attention will be devoted to lenition processes. The data will be taken from two different languages: English and Basque. It will be demonstrated that noise participates in phonological processes independently of other primes. One kind of phenomena we shall focus on will be the so-called edge and anti-edge effects exhibited by affricates. Further, certain cross-boundary events will be elaborated on. The problem of the phonological status of noise will be regarded through the optic of Government Phonology. We shall adhere to the major assumptions of Element Theory which is part of this framework. Applying this model of melodic representation, internal structure of plosives and affricates will be examined.

2.1

Theoretical Introduction

The aim of the present paper is to submit evidence testifying to the existence of the phonological primitive of noise as a legitimate member in the structure of released obstruents, plosives and affricates in particular. In this brief discussion, arguments will be supplied in favour of awarding this property the status of a phonological element capable of manifesting itself as an independent segment as well as A. Bloch-Rozmej (*) John Paul II Catholic University of Lublin, Lublin, Poland e-mail: [email protected] M. Pawlak and J. Bielak (eds.), New Perspectives in Language, Discourse and Translation Studies, Second Language Learning and Teaching, DOI 10.1007/978-3-642-20083-0_2, # Springer-Verlag Berlin Heidelberg 2011

13

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A. Bloch-Rozmej

combining with other such primary elements to form larger, more complex melodic structures. After the phonetic characteristics of noise have been introduced, we shall explore a number of melody-related phenomena which clearly indicate that noise should be recognised as an independent phonological element. In particular, special attention will be devoted to lenition processes. The data will be taken from two different languages: English and Basque. It will be demonstrated that noise participates in phonological processes independently of other primes. One kind of phenomena we shall focus on will be the so-called edge and anti-edge effects exhibited by affricates. Further, certain cross-boundary events will be elaborated on. Importantly, our attention will be focused on the internal structure of the aforementioned segment types with a view to depicting the function of the noise prime in their phonological representations. The model of intra-segmental structure adopted in this presentation is non-linear, autosegmental and molecular, in which autonomous elements reside on separate tiers, each being independently synchronized with a skeletal slot and having a unique phonetic interpretation. The major assumptions underlying such a mode of representation are summarized in (1) below:1 1. Elements as minimal phonological units • • • • • • • • •

Elements are autonomous; They are directly co-indexed with skeletal slots; Each prime resides on its autosegmental tier; Elements are gathered under class nodes which dominate them; Each element has a unique phonetic interpretation; Elements can combine to form complex melodic structures; Their attachment to slots requires an autosegmental licence; Only elements associated to skeletal positions can be manifested phonetically; Within segmental structures, primes can enjoy different status (head, operator/ dependent), the head prime defines the salient property of the segment.

In this molecular approach to segmental structure, segments consist of one or more elements which amalgamate in accordance with the licensing constraints, i.e. co-occurrence conditions, built in the system of a given language.2 Since, as indicated above, primes can enjoy different status, varying theoretical configurations of elements can be distinguished. These are schematized in (2) below.

1 The major characterisctics of phonological primes are defined in Harris (1994), Harris and Lindsey (1995) as well as Bloch-Rozmej (2008). 2 A particular language, for instance, can impose a bar on the combination of given two primes as a result of which they will never be found to co-occur within a single segment. Such a licensing constraint can be identified in English where the elements I (frontness, palatality) and U (roundedness) do not combine within vocalic segments. Consequently, English does not possess front rounded vowels.

2 Noise as a Phonological Element: On the Representation of Plosives and Affricates

2.

(a)

x

(b)

x | A

(c)

x | A

(d)

x | A | B

(e)

15

x | A | B

As depicted in (2a), a prosodic position can dominate no segmental material, thus remaining melodically mute, it can be mono-elemental with this prime being either head or dependent (in (2b) and (2c) respectively), or more elements can build a segment with one of them being its head or with none of the primes in the head status (the structures in (2d) and (2e) respectively). Significantly, the head element (underlined) determines the salient property of the melody. In other words, its contribution to the phonetic shape of the segment is the largest. This brief characterization of melodic structure proposed by non-linear frameworks, Government Phonology in particular,3 reveals two important features of elements as phonological entities. Namely, thanks to their autonomous interpretation, elements directly determine the phonetic outcome of a given phonological structure. Secondly, their residence on separate autosegmental tiers allows them to participate in phonological processes independently of the remaining elements belonging to particular segmental representations. Consequently, the recognition of the existence of a given phonological element rests upon two kinds of evidence. Firstly, a phonological prime has to have significant phonetic exponent, which is most obviously supported by the occurrence of melodies defined exclusively by this very element. Secondly, we should be able to detect phonological processes which directly target the posited prime, or alternatively, all the other elements building a segment except the prime in question. Finally, phonological significance of an element derives from its ability to define some important aspect of the system, for example its susceptibility to licensing constraints or other language-specific principles (e.g. being able to occupy the head position of the segment or, alternatively, being a persistent non-head).

2.2

Noise as a Phonological Prime

Let us now turn to the phonetic effect of noise and discuss evidence implying its phonological status. Government Phonology (henceforth GP) argues in favor of recognizing three manner-defining phonological primitives: occlusion, noise and nasality.4 To specify the distinctive characteristics of h, let us quote Harris (1994: 123): “the elemental pattern of h may be defined as noise, which maps onto the speech 3

The framework first proposed in Kaye et al. (1985, 1990) and considerably refined in e.g. Harris (1994), Gussmann (2002), Cyran (2003), or Scheer (2004). 4 The element of occlusion defines the effect of stoppness, or an abrupt decrease in overall amplitude. Nasality will naturally reside in the structure of nasal vowels and consonants (Harris and Lindsey 1995). Further, there are the so-called resonance elements specifying the place of articulation of consonants: I (palatality), U (labiality) and A (coronality). The laryngeal primes H and L, in turn, are responsible for defining voicelessness and voicing respectively.

16

A. Bloch-Rozmej

signal as aperiodic energy. The articulatory targeting of this effect involves a narrowed stricture which produces turbulent airflow. This element contributes a noise component to the class of obstruent consonants”. As further argued in Harris and Lindsey (1995c: 70), “the absence of any supralaryngeal gesture in the independent articulation of [h] is entirely the function of the fact that it lacks its own resonance property. In compounds with other elements, however, the location of the noise-producing gesture will be determined by whatever resonance element may also be present”. Defined in this way, noise will naturally reside in fricatives and affricates, sounds which at least in some phase of their production involve turbulent airflow. Yet, in orthodox feature-based models of segmental representation, this component has not been recognized as phonologically significant in plosives. It has to be observed, however, that in order to comply with the phonetic facts, phonology should be able to account for the aperiodic energy characterizing the release phase of genuine plosives which manifests itself in the form of a noise burst. However, before bringing up evidence supporting the presence of noise in the lexical structure of plosives, let us focus on noise itself. As indicated in the introduction, each phonological prime must have a unique phonetic manifestation. This requirement is satisfied in the case of noise since its independent interpretation is that of the glottal fricative [h]. Also, as already stated, in complex segments represented as elemental compounds, noise defines the aperiodic energy identifiable in the phonetic signal. To illustrate this situation with some examples, the structures of selected English fricatives have been depicted in (3). 3.

[h] x | h

[s] x | h | A | H

[T] x | h | A | H

[f] x | h | U | H

[v] x | h | U

[S] x | h | A | I | H

(3) discloses one more important dimension of segmental structure that pertains in an obvious way to noise-containing sounds, namely headedness relations. As indicated in (3), head elements are underlined. The head-dependent relation is a GP-specific means of representing elemental salience. In this way, we possess an instrument for representing the difference between strident and non-strident fricatives and affricates. Thus, h-headed segments will display greater stridency, or noisiness, than ones in which h is just a dependent. Moving on to the structure of obstruent stops, our aim now is to uphold their representations involving the element of noise, despite its being less significant than occlusion. The latter defines the acoustic effect of an abrupt decrease in overall amplitude, articulatorily effected as constriction. More specifically, we shall address the data illustrating the participation of noise in phonological processing

2 Noise as a Phonological Element: On the Representation of Plosives and Affricates

17

as an independent prime. In particular, the following processes indicate the presence of h: • • • •

Spirantisation, Debuccalisation, Tapping, Glottalling.

2.3

Noise as a Process Target and Result: The Structure of Plosives

The acoustics of plosives indicates the necessity of representing them by means of two independent elements: occlusion and noise. Even though the narrowing in the vocal tract typical of plosives is practically equal to zero, their release is accompanied by a short noise burst. However, more compelling evidence in favor of h in plosives comes from lenition processes. One of them is the process of vocalization, which results in the weakening of the segment. In Element Theory,5 such an effect is represented as decomplexification of a melody carried out through the loss of elements which become delinked from their skeletal slot. From the phonological perspective, the advantage of such effects derives from their ability to indicate independent elements defining the place and manner of articulation of sounds. Thus, the process of debuccalisation targets the place-defining prime and discloses the existence of manner primes. With respect to obstruents, two processes seem to be of utmost importance: spirantisation and loss of audible release. Since each process targets one element at a time (Clements 1985), weakening can be characterized as the suppression of some aspect of the elementary content of a segment. In other words, lenition involves progressive decrease in the melodic complexity of a segment. It seems reasonable to expect that the weakest segments, which are pre-deletion targets, are the least complex, i.e. monoelemental. In this way, lenition testifies to the existence of individual primes. With that in mind, let us examine the stages of one of the opening processes, quoted in Harris (1994): 4. Opening trajectory (Harris 1994: 120) Spirantization Plosive

> >

Aspiration Fricative

> >

Deletion h

>

Ø

Defined in terms of progressive decomplexification, the process of lenition reveals the existence of the noise prime which shows up as the least complex segment between the two extremes of a released obstruent and zero. In this type of lenition process, the 5 Element Theory is part of the Government Phonology framework. It pertains to the nature and phonological behaviour of elements within melodic structures.

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A. Bloch-Rozmej

element targeted is that of occlusion, whereas the one that remains is noise. Such a development can be found in Ireland and Merseyside area of England. A couple of illustrative examples come from Harris (1994: 121): 5. get at that

[gɛs] [æh] [dæh]

letter not but

[lɛsə] [nɒh] [bʊh]

As the [h]-final forms indicate, spirantisation has given way to debuccalization to [h] in function words. Thus, the element of noise turns up as the most primitive unit of the lenited segments (see (9) below). Further, we can identify a process which directly targets the noise prime, often leaving the remaining elements intact. The development that is meant here is that of tapping, or flapping. The process is firmly established in most of North America, Australia, Ireland and parts of England. Examples depicting this phenomenon are listed in (6): 6. pity fit us city

[pɪɾɪ] fi[ɾ] us [sɪɾɪ]

pretty get off set up

[prɪɾɪ] ge[ɾ] off se[ɾ] up

As can be seen, the intervocalic context yields a coronal tap, a segment consisting of the occlusion prime and one specifying the place of articulation. It loses, however, the element of noise (see (9) below). A more radical form of weakening resulting in the loss of both noise and resonance primes takes place in the case of glottalling: 7. Glottalling Plosive

>> >?>

Deletion Ø

In this lenition type, prevalent in Scotland and England, the loss of the coronal gesture is accompanied by the delinking of noise, the residual reflex being realized with glottal stricture, as in 8. pit pity

[pɪ?] [[pɪ?ɪ]

bit peter

[bɪ?] [pi:?ə]

The three weakening developments occurring in the varieties of English can be structurally depicted as follows: 9.

2 Noise as a Phonological Element: On the Representation of Plosives and Affricates

19

It can be clearly noticed that the processes of lenition operating in English disclose the existence of an independent element of noise which can be both the target of the process and the sole resident of the segment after the delinking of the remaining primes has been effected. In what follows, we shall look into the structure of affricates, whose behaviour implies the presence of both manner-defining primes in their structure: that of occlusion and that of noise.

2.4

Affricates: Noise and Occlusion Together and Apart

Affricates are often considered as consonants having bi-segmental structure. Such a conception stems from the articulatory evidence which reveals the presence of two consecutive phases: constriction and narrowing producing friction. The approaches to affricates vary. On the whole, we can distinguish the following theoretical possibilities of representing affricates: 10. (a) One segment attached to a single skeletal slot (b) Two segments attached to two adjacent slots (c) Two segments linked to one slot (contour structure) i. Whole segments are attached to the slot ii. Elements from different tiers are linked to a single slot

• With an ordered sequence of stop + fricative parts • With an unordered sequence of stop + fricative parts The first option was proposed in Rubach (1994), where affricates were treated as strident stops. Yet, the evidence on the so-called edge effects concerning different behavior of affricates with respect to the segments on their right and to their lefthand neighbors implies a bi-partite analysis. The data on stress placement in English, on the other hand, exclude the analysis of affricates as a sequence of two independent positions attached to a stop and to a fricative. More specifically, in English verbs, stress falls on the last heavy syllable and should the last one be light, on the penult. Consider the words in (11):6 11. (a) Torment Collapse

(b) Maintain Arouse

(c) Edit Cancel

If affricates consisted of two positions, syllables containing them should behave just like ones containing long vowels or a final VCC sequence. This, however, does not take place, as depicted below:

6

Letters indicating the stressed vowels are in bold type.

20

A. Bloch-Rozmej

12. Manage, damage, encourage

Hence, we infer that the affricate-containing word-final syllable is light. This, in turn, suggests that affricates are linked to a single skeletal position. Such a representation is known as a contour structure. It has to be acknowledged at this stage that even among phonologists who opt for the contour analysis, there are ones who argue in favor of the Ordered Component Analysis, with a strictly determined sequence of a stop plus fricative parts (e.g. Hoard 1967; Campbell 1974; Hockett 1975; Ewen 1982; Clements and Keyser 1983; Sagey 1986; Steriade 1994; van de Weijer 1996). The Unordered Component Hypothesis represented by Lombardi (1990) and Hualde (1988a, b, 1991), assumes that the order of affricate components is irrelevant. These two opposing viewpoints are possible and justifiable since affricates exhibit on the one hand edge effects, and on the other hand, anti-edge effects. Put differently, they sometimes behave with respect to the left-hand segments as stops and to the right-hand ones as fricatives, but on other occasions this order does not matter. Consider the past tense allomorphy or plural forms in English: 13. wanted [tɪd] cats [ts]

but messed [st] buses [sɪz]

watched [tʃt] watches [tʃɪz]

Clearly in the above examples, with respect to the right-hand segments, affricates behave like fricatives. However, Lombardi (1991) brings up data from Basque which undermine the Ordered Component Analysis. In Basque, stops are voiced after a nasal or lateral segment, as in 14. afal-tu ken-tu

[afaldu] [kendu]

‘have dinner, perf.’ ‘take away, perf.’

Yet, affricates resist the voicing operation: 15. afal-tsen ken-tsen

[afaltsen] [kentsen]

‘have dinner, imperf.’ ‘take away, imperf.’

The facts addressed so far bring to light the following properties of affricate segments: 16. Affricates

• Are prosodically simplex. • Are melodically complex. • Exhibit inconsistent behavior with respect to the processes targeting them from the right and from the left, which depends not on the sequential ordering of their parts but the presence of a given feature or the character of the process. To clarify the last point, it has to be added that for the outcome of the process it seems to matter how much of the internal structure of the affricate is visible to the process. This point will be illustrated presently.

2 Noise as a Phonological Element: On the Representation of Plosives and Affricates

21

GP argues in favour of the geometric organization of elements in the subsegmental plane. This hierarchical arrangement is depicted in (17). 17. Geometric configuration of elements: Elements grouped under class nodes x

•

Root Laryngeal

•

h N

•

Place

H L A

I U

(R)

Individual elements are organized under class nodes: the Root, Place/Resonance and Laryngeal. A phonological process can involve either a single prime or target the whole class node, thus affecting all the elements gathered under it.7 GP has its own answer to the affricate dilemma which is based on the recognition of class nodes. In detail, Harris (1994) proposes a contour structure with an internal geometry of elements which are arrayed under class nodes. This structure is depicted in (18) 18.

x

•

•

h Place node

• A [t ]

Root nodes

I

The representation rests upon the assumption that elements can co-exist under a single skeletal position without actually undergoing fusion, unlike in plosives for instance.8 The structure assumes that within a single melody, two independent manner elements, occlusion and noise, are dominated by two different Root nodes, which prevents fusion.9 Both Roots are linked to a single Resonance or Place node, which expresses the homorganicity of the affricate parts. This structure accounts for the fact that with respect to the processes depending on syllable weight, affricates behave as prosodically simplex segments. Importantly, the two Roots reside on a single autosegmental tier, which secures a sequence of the 7

For more information on element geometry, see Harris (1994) and Bloch-Rozmej (2008). In plosives noise and occlusion are fused under a single slot. 9 The idea of two Root nodes goes back to Clements (1987). McCarthy (1988) proposed that manner elements should be dominated directly by the Root. 8

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A. Bloch-Rozmej

stopness and noise phases. Harris’s structure of an affricate is very useful in the account of affrication processes attested in English. In English, apart from the two lexical affricates, the coronal [t] and [d] can undergo affrication to [ts] and [dz], especially in the intervocalic position, as in [pitsi], [tsen] [dzip]. This effect is characteristic of the London vernacular speech (Wells 1990). In some cases, this process leads to spirantisation, whereby [t]>[ts]>[s]. In terms of GP, the affrication of plosives can be analysed in terms of the Root node split. Namely, a single Root undergoes cloning, whereby each of the new Root nodes comes to dominate its own manner element, both Roots being still synchronized with a single Place node. Interestingly, and luckily for our contour analysis, affrication takes place before a vowel. It must be stressed that between a plosive, which is a constricted sound, and the vowel, which is characterized by considerable opening in the vocal tract, the articulatory distance is huge. Hence, affrication can be seen as a mechanism reducing this distance by the progressive opening of the full constriction of the stop part of the affricate, through the narrowing of the noise phase of its latter part before eventually a vowel succeeds. constriction > narrowing > opening

2.5

Conclusion

In conclusion, we hope to have demonstrated that the element of noise is a legitimate member in the structure of all released obstruents, including fricatives and plosives. However, the phonetic contribution of the prime to the manifestation of these segment types is different. More specifically, in the structure of plosives, noise has to fuse with occlusion. In fricatives, h is the sole manner-defining element. Further, it has been shown that noise possesses a unique phonetic manifestation and can be a single resident of a consonantal segment. In isolation, h is interpreted as a glottal fricative. Furthermore, noise can be directly targeted by phonological processes and it remains in the structure of a consonant after spirantisation/aspiration processes have lenited this segment. Both manner-defining primes – occlusion and noise – are needed in the structure of affricates as they enable us to express both their bi-segmental phonetic nature and the puzzling behaviour of affricates with respect to phonological processes. We have demonstrated that a special contour structure should be employed in the phonological representation of affricates. In such configurations, noise and occlusion have to be independently dominated by separate Root nodes which are both linked to a single Place/Resonance node. This geometric arrangement of primes enables us to provide an account of the phonological phenomena involving affricates much more efficiently than has been done in the traditional, non-autosegmental frameworks.

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23

References Bloch-Rozmej, A. 2008. Melody in government phonology. Lublin: Wydawnictwo KUL. Campbell, L. 1974. Phonological features: problems and proposals. Language 50: 52–65. Clements, G. N. 1985. The geometry of phonological features. Phonology Yearbook 2: 223–50. Clements, G. N. 1987. Phonological feature representation and the description of intrusive stops. CLS 23, Part 2: Parasession on autosegmental and metrical phonology, 29–50. Clements, G. N. and S. J. Keyser. 1983. CV phonology: A generative theory of the syllable. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Cyran, E. 2003. Complexity scales and licensing strength in phonology. Lublin: Wydawnictwo KUL. Ewen, C. 1982. The internal structure of complex segments. In The structure of phonological representations. Vol. 2, eds. H. van der Hulst and N. Smith, 27–67. Dordrecht: Foris. Gussmann, E. 2002. Phonology: Analysis and theory. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Harris, J. 1994. English sound structure. Oxford: Blackwell. Harris, J. and G. Lindsey. 1995. The elements of phonological representation. In Frontiers of phonology. Atoms, structures, derivations, eds. J. Durand and F. Katamba, 34–79. London: Longman. Hoard, J. E. 1967. Complex phonological segments in distinctive feature theory. Paper presented at the annual meeting of the LSA, Chicago, Ill. Ms. Hockett, C. F. 1975. If you slice it thin enough it’s not baloney. American Speech 47: 233–55. Hualde, J. E. 1988a. On Basque affricates. Anuario del Seminario de Filologia Vasca Julio de Urquijo XXII-2: 379–389. Hualde, J. E. 1988b. Affricates are not contour segments. Proceedings of the West Coast Conference on Formal Linguistics VII: 143–157. Hualde, J. E. 1991. Basque phonology. London: Routledge. Kaye, J., J. Lowenstamm and J.-R Vergnaud. 1985. The internal structure of phonological elements: A theory of charm and government. Phonology Yearbook 2: 305–328. Kaye, J., J. Lowenstamm and J.-R Vergnaud. 1990. Constituent structure and government in phonology. Phonology 7: 193–231. Lombardi, L. 1990. The nonlinear organisation of the affricate. Natural Language and Linguistic Theory 8: 375–425. Lombardi, L. 1991. Laryngeal features and laryngeal neutralization. Unpublished PhD dissertation, University of Massachusetts, Amherst, MA. McCarthy, J. 1988. Feature geometry and dependency: A review. Phonetica 45: 84–108. Rubach, J. 1994. Affricates as strident stops in Polish. Linguistic Inquiry 25: 119–143. Scheer, T. 2004. A lateral theory of phonology: What is CVCV, and why should it be? Vol 1. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Steriade, D. 1994. Complex onsets as single segments: The Mazateco pattern. In Perspectives in phonology, eds. J. Cole and C. Kisseberth, 203–291. Stanford, CA: CSLI Publications. Sagey, E. 1986. The representation of features and relations in nonlinear phonology. Unpublished PhD dissertation, Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Cambridge, MA. van de Weijer, J. M. 1996. Segmental structure and complex segments. HIL dissertations no. g. Holland Academic Graphics. Wells, J. C. 1990. Longman pronunciation dictionary. London: Longman.

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Chapter 3

Word and Foot Minimality in English: A Metrical Government Analysis Tomasz Ciszewski

Abstract Possible foot inventories have been widely discussed in the literature (Hayes 1995; Halle and Vergnaud 1987; Burzio 1994, among others). While binary feet are generally accepted in all typologies, other foot types (unary, ternary, unbounded) have been subject to debate. In this paper we argue that unary feet are ill-formed due to their inability to support a contour tone. This prohibition is further reflected not only in word minimality requirements in English, i.e. the ban on light open monosyllables, but also in the absence of short vowels word-finally and the avoidance of final stress on light syllables. The acoustic analysis of monosyllabic CVC words shows that in isolated pronunciations the vowel is systematically lengthened in order to meet the tonally-driven foot minimality requirements. Thus, given the abundance of light monosyllabic words in the English lexicon, the word and foot minimality requirements must be treated as non-identical. These empirical observations will be formally captured by government relations that hold between nuclei. In particular, we will argue that minimal foot binarity follows from the fact that a full nucleus must always govern another nucleus to its right. A phonetic result of such internuclear government is the reduction of the latter. Thus, CV monosyllables are both lexically and metrically excluded; CVC monosyllables, on the other hand, are lexically possible since the full nucleus governs the final empty one. However, in order to meet the foot minimality requirement the nucleus must increase its duration to accommodate a contour tone (cf. Gordon 2000). The minimal word and foot requirements, therefore, differ in one aspect only, namely that the head nucleus in the minimal word needs a nuclear position to govern, whereas the head of the foot needs to govern a phonetically full nucleus.

T. Ciszewski (*) University of Gdan´sk, Gdan´sk, Poland e-mail: [email protected] M. Pawlak and J. Bielak (eds.), New Perspectives in Language, Discourse and Translation Studies, Second Language Learning and Teaching, DOI 10.1007/978-3-642-20083-0_3, # Springer-Verlag Berlin Heidelberg 2011

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26

3.1

T. Ciszewski

Introduction

In this paper we discuss the English word and foot minimality requirements. The discussion is set in the framework of Metrical Government Phonology, which is meant to be a prosodic extension of Standard Government Phonology. Thus, we will first refer to Csides’ (2007) original formulation of Metrical Government which, however, follows the assumptions of “Strict CV” offspring of Standard GP. The advantage of our proposal lies in the fact that the theoretical assumptions we make are empirically testable (as opposed to the empirically doubtful status of empty nuclei within the Strict CV version of Government Phonology) and ample acoustic evidence directly supports the analysis. In particular we argue that the word and foot minimality both follow from obligatory metrical government relations holding between nuclei. Thus, the minimal word and foot are both defined as internuclear governing domains but they differ in the stringency of melodic requirements on the nuclear governee, i.e. in the minimal word the governee may be the word-final empty nuclear position (CVCØ), whereas in the minimal foot the position must be filled with a melody (CVCV/CVV). This explains the absence of CV# words in English as well as the phonotactic ban on short unreduced vowels word-finally (in which the internuclear governing relation does not obtain) and the systematic vowel lengthening in isolated and phrase-final CVC forms and final stressed CVC “syllables” which is imposed by the requirement of internuclear metrical government. The acoustic analysis of CVC words implies that the vowel lengthening is tonally driven since it is invariably accompanied by a significantly greater pitch slope on the vowel in question. As such, it is fully supportive of Gordon’s (2000) cross-linguistic study of the tonal basis of final weight criteria.

3.2

Metrical Government

To the best of our knowledge, the term “metrical government” has been first used by Csides (2004, 2007),1 but it seems to have been given little attention, even from government phonology (GP) circles. The proposals that stem from his concept of “metrical government” – hopefully inseminating for mainstream GP in the long run – are also of certain relevance to our analysis. Thus, we propose that metrical government relations are bidirectional and may be non-local. Ultimately, all government within a morphologically simple domain emanates from the head nucleus of the domain final maximal foot. The heads of

1

We wish to thank the anonymous reviewer for drawing our attention to Charette (1991) and especially to Manfredi’s article (1993), who had apparently formulated the principles of metrical government prior to Csides.

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the foot can only govern from left to right. Recessive nuclei govern from right to left. The internuclear government relation is obligatory for all well-formed phonological domains. Here, we agree with the original proposal of metrical government relations (Csides 2004: 29–30) which claims that: “[g]overnment directly affecting melodic complexity takes place at the foot level. In a trochaic system the stressed vowel governs the farthest contentful vocalic position to its right within the foot silencing it relatively in the form of vowel reduction and thereby providing it with governing licence. The government licensed contentful vocalic position then governs the farthest contentful vocalic position to the opposite direction within the foot”. We think, however, that Csides (2004) is not radical enough, i.e. he seems to reject strict directionality and simultaneously adheres to foot binarity (cf. “a trochaic system” he mentions). Our proposal differs in that it provides a formal framework that accounts both for the governing relations within trochaic/dactylic feet with the same set of principles and explicitly excludes unaries.

3.3

Structural and Acoustic Ill-Formedness of “Unary Feet”

Virtually all past non-government accounts of word stress and foot structure have been based on a pre-theoretically unwarranted assumption that the syllable is an indispensable mediating constituent between the segmental and metrical structure. Our model is grounded on the tenet that foot structure is a derivative of the internuclear relations within a phonological domain. Since intrapedal government is contracted between skeletal positions, no intermediate constituent is necessary. Accordingly, the traditional structural n-ary labels do not refer to the number of syllables within a foot, but rather to the number of skeletal positions that participate in metrical government. Thus, unary, binary and ternary feet contain one, two or three skeletal positions, respectively. This is shown in (1) below (Intermediate constituent levels Rhyme/Nucleus have been omitted). 1.

(a) unary

(b) binary

(c) ternary

F

F

F

..............

..........................

x

x

..... x

x

x

x

In this way the model is able to directly relate the segmental strength and metrical structure via the rejection of the syllable constituent. In the following section we will provide theoretical as well as phonologically relevant acoustic arguments against skeletally unary F(x) metrical feet.

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A pivotal theory-internal argument is that a solitary non-branching nucleus may not form a foot itself since feet are defined as left-headed internuclear governing domains. In the absence of another non-empty nucleus to its right, the potential head of the putative unary foot may not metrically govern. 2.

*F N

Ø

x

A theoretically conceivable GP mechanism, which could “restore” the minimal structural binarity of light monosyllables, i.e. the incorporation of the final empty nucleus into the structure in (2),2 must be ruled out for a few reasons. First of all, as it has been emphasised before, empty nuclei are claimed to be inactive in foot construction. Thus, they would have to be made visible to stress in this particular instance only, i.e. in cotFoot{cotø} but not in cottonFoot{cotton}ø. Secondly, direct metrical government imposed on foot recessive rhyme is able to destroy its vocalic melodies only partially, i.e. through the reduction to schwa. Note that in structurally similar forms, e.g. better [betə], the same government relation in unable to silence the foot recessive nucleus completely, unless it is followed by a word-final high sonority onset [m, n,1], as in bottom [bɒtm], button [bʌtn] or bottle [bɒt1], which is acoustically capable of supporting some (albeit reduced) pitch and intensity characteristics of the lost vowel.3 In such cases, however, the available vowel slot is linked directly to the melody of the high sonority consonant. By contrast, the final empty nucleus in (3a) cannot bear a tone as it is inherently devoid of phonetic contents. Thus, the representations of cot (3a) and cotton (3b), for instance, may not be treated as metrically identical. 3.

The empty word final nuclei in (3a) and (3b) follow from theory-internal licensing requirements, according to which an onset must always be licensed 2

As proposed by Burzio (1994), for example. For arguments against, see Ciszewski (2005). This suggests that a radical a priori exclusion of onsets from foot structure should be approached with caution. While onsets are indeed unable to contribute directly to foot weight or carry distinctive pitch, they may indirectly reinforce the acoustic robustness of adjacent vowels (cf. Gordon 2005). 3

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by the following nucleus (for arguments in favour of such analysis see, e.g. Harris and Gussmann 1998 or Gussmann 2002: 96–101). While we agree with the observation that word final consonants do not behave like codas and, consequently, we do not treat word final syllables that end in a single consonant as heavy4 (which has important consequences for the theory of metrical government proposed here), we reject on acoustic/perceptual grounds the possibility that empty nuclei are directly accessible to metrical structure. However, an unstressed governed nucleus enclosed within two consonants between which a right-to-left interonset government obtains, as in (3b), despite being phonetically absent, does indirectly participate in intrapedal government since its skeletal slot is ultimately linked with a melody of the high sonority consonant. It is the interonset government between [t] and [n] that licenses the vowel syncope in (3b) on the one hand and makes the vowel position available for intrapedal government on the other. In (3a) the melodically empty nucleus N2 may not participate in intrapedal government as it is not licensed by the interonset government. Thus, (3a) does not represent a well-formed binary foot. Structurally it is identical to the prohibited unary foot in (2). A collateral problem is the lexical absence of CV monosyllables and wordfinal short unreduced vowels. The distributional asymmetry between CV and CVC/CV: syllables domain-finally follows naturally from the assumption that both minimal words and minimal feet must constitute left-headed internuclear governing domains. Therefore, their well-formedness is based upon the ability of the potential head nucleus to govern the following nuclear position. Unreduced short vowels are banned both word and foot finally for two reasons: (1) they cannot be metrical governors and (2) they cannot be governees, since they are unreduced. Thus, due to the absence of a nuclear position to their right they may not realise their potential to govern. The minimal word and foot requirements, however, differ in one aspect only, namely the head nucleus in the minimal word needs a nuclear position to govern, whereas the head of the foot needs a phonetically full nucleus. Metaphorically speaking, one cannot be the Head of the Department, if no staff is employed. The staff, however, may either fake work (empty nuclei) or be fully involved in it (full nuclei). In the former case, the department merely exists, in the latter it properly functions. By inference, the minimal word and the minimal foot requirements are non-identical.5 They are interrelated by the fundamental condition of internuclear government, but they differ in the stringency of requirements on the government target. This is illustrated in (4) below. Note that the requirements on monosyllables are identical to those on domain-final syllables in polysyllabic forms. (The broken line

4

Note that the double association of [n] with onset and the preceding vowel position does not make the second syllable of cotton phonologically heavy. 5 Cf. for instance Lahiri (2001: 1357), who claims that “[t]he minimal word must be at least a foot, or two syllables, or bimoraic, or some other constraint”.

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separating the minimal and subminimal forms represents the word/foot wellformedness threshold.) 4.

Due the unrealised governing potential of the nucleus in (4a), domain-final unreduced vowels and CV monosyllables are banned both lexically and metrically.6 Final and monosyllabic CVC forms in (4b) are lexically well-formed, although metrically subminimal, i.e. the internuclear government obtains but its target is empty. This is where the word and foot minimality depart. In terms of their phonetic realisation, we may expect that for the head nucleus to be properly pedified and stressed it either has to lengthen or N2 must be filled with a melody, e.g. post-lexically. The forms in (4c) pass both the word and the foot minimality tests, since two adjacent full nuclear positions may freely contract government. This accounts for the lack of distributional restrictions for domain-final reduced vowels (since they are always in foot-recessive position) and long vowels/diphthongs (since they constitute wellformed – albeit minimal – binary feet). Thus, the lexical presence of monosyllabic content words with non-branching nuclei, e.g. pit, pet, pat, putt, pot, put does not provide a direct falsifier for our ban on unary feet once a sharp distinction is made between “stressability (¼no reduction)” and “being stressed (¼pedification)”. In our model, these forms are lexically unstressed since they do not form feet, but potentially stressable once the minimal foot requirement is fulfilled. Bearing in mind the relational nature of stress, the theoretical exclusion of unary feet is also acoustically and perceptually justified, since linguistic stress relies on fluctuations of acoustic energy and pitch differences both within and between consecutive nuclear and/or rhymal positions. Monosyllables in which the rhyme dominates only one nuclear slot are thus unable to support a distinctive pitch contour.7 Phonetically they suffer from what has been traditionally referred to in the metrical literature 6 Note that citation forms of function words which end in a vowel (a, the, her, she, your, to, there) always contain a branching nucleus. 7 Although Terken and Hermes (2000: 89) treat all monosyllables as prosodically prominent, since they ‘stand out from silence’. Under this assumption, even an isolated fricative, for example, could constitute a peak of acoustic prominence.

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as the “unstressable word syndrome” (Hayes 1995: 110–113; cf. (4a) and (4b) above). This is shown in (5) below, where T and I stand for tone and intensity, respectively. 5.

*F N x TX > TY IX > IY

A possible counterargument against treating the putative foot structures in (2), (4a) and (4ab) as metrically ill-formed, as we do, may be that light monosyllables are capable of carrying nuclear stress in a phrase, e.g. It’s a nice [cot, cat, kit, pet, book, etc.] and therefore they cannot be “footless”, since we take the presence of stress to be a primary indication of the presence of a foot. (Otherwise, the foot becomes a theoretically superfluous constituent.) However, as it has been shown experimentally (Duanmu 1996), light monosyllables in English in order to carry nuclear stress require a substantial increase in duration, especially in a pre-juncture position, where their vowels were observed to have lengthened by as much as 75%. Other analyses, e.g. Umeda (1975), suggest that the increase in duration may be within 70–100% of the canonical duration of a vowel. As reported by Gordon (2000, 2001), tonal languages impose severe restrictions on the syllable types which are allowed to carry contour tones. It is only on the V: or VCSON syllables that contour tones may occur without any restrictions. This has a direct bearing on our typology of well-formed English feet. Since foot internal head-dependent relations in English are phonetically realised as pitch and energy fluctuations, sufficient duration is required in order to execute the two different tones,8 or to avoid what has been referred to by Gordon (2000) as “tonal crowding”. A light monosyllable is inherently unable to carry a contour tone on its single nuclear position. Thus, it must lengthen its vowel by more than a half in order to be eligible for nuclear (prejunctural) stress. Formally, the pre-juncture lengthening may be expressed as a (post-lexical) addition of a prosodically recessive nuclear position (6). 6.

(a) *F

(b) F O

N

O

N

x

x#

x

x

T1

T2

T1

T2

x#

An isolated pronunciation of a light monosyllabic (C)VC word is contextually identical to a pre-junctural or pre-pausal one. Therefore, there are reasons to expect 8

The increased duration of stressed syllable rhymes is, therefore, a derivative of tonal restrictions.

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that the acoustic characteristics of the nucleus in an isolated (C)VC monosyllable should be systematically similar in terms of pitch, intensity and duration to the same nucleus in a word uttered pre-juncturally, i.e. [#bet#] vs. [....bet#], and systematically different from the occurrence of the same stressed nucleus non-finally, i.e. [#bet#] vs. [(#)betty#]. The acoustic analysis of relevant examples (Ciszewski 2010) fully supports our predictions concerning the phonological non-identity of stressed nuclei in isolated light monosyllables and those in well-formed trochees. The mean durations of nuclei in isolated CVC forms are consistently greater than those of the corresponding CVC + s items in an identical context (by 59% when followed by a voiceless consonant and by 77% when followed by a voiced one). A viable formal alternative to lengthening, which may seem extravagantly “derivational” within GP, is to postulate that the nucleus in a CVC monosyllable is bipositional i.e. C[xø]C, which would in effect satisfy both lexical and metrical minimality requirements. Since the final empty nucleus is unable to properly govern the other empty nucleus within the C[xø]C domain, the latter would have to phonetically surface (7a), which amounts to lengthening (by analogy, the CV:C monosyllables would also retain their long nucleus). However, once the final empty nucleus is filled with a melody post-lexically, e.g. as in the inflected form betting (7b), it “regains” its proper government potentials and is able to silence the extra nuclear position in the CVC stem and prevent the lengthening. 7.

This, however, would be grossly inconsistent with our assumption that phonetically empty nuclei are visible to metrical structure or available for metrification. Secondly, the lexically absent CV monosyllables would have to be represented in the same way, i.e. C[vø]. Then, one would expect them to surface as long vowels because the empty position – in the absence of a potential proper governor to its right – would not be properly governed either. Thirdly, and most importantly, in disyllabic (C)V:CV(C) forms, like paper, the second position of the branching head nucleus, by virtue of being properly governed by the final full nucleus, would have to be silenced *[pe(ø)pə]. Thus, we find little empirical support for this theoretically costly solution. The phonological ill-formedness of unary feet F(x) is also confirmed by their defective distribution within a phonological domain. English disyllables, for instance, are never parsed into two consecutive F(x) feet, e.g. *[Foot1(CV1) Foot2(CV2)C]. Sequences of two (or more) unary F(x) feet are not attested domain initially and internally in polysyllabic forms, either. Such footing would obviously

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violate the rhythmic distribution of stresses and result in word-internal stress clash.9 Its ill-formedness is also independently predicted and accounted for by metrical government. Since intrapedal structure is a reflection of governing relations contracted between nuclei/rhymes and the government emanating from the head nucleus is head-initial, N2 has no target to its left, unless it is compensatorily lengthened, e.g. in a pre-juncture position. Otherwise, it may not form an internuclear governing domain, i.e. a foot. If N1, on the other hand, governed N2, it should result in the reduction of N2 to schwa. If this did happen, N2 could be no longer treated as the head of the second foot, since foot heads cannot be reduced. But then, the resulting structure would be that of an even trochee, i.e. F(xx), rather than two consecutive unaries F(x)F(x).10 This government “deadlock” is illustrated in (8) below (V stands for any full short vowel). 8.

Further distributional curtailments are observed domain initially and internally. While heavy (V: or VC) rhymes, which form binary feet, may – under certain conditions – appear domain internally, e.g. sentimentality, Halicarnassus, or initially, e.g. ambition, unary feet are not attested in this position. The reasons for this ban are also related to the inability of two consecutive unreduced nuclei to contract metrical government. In a hypothetical context whereby a unary foot is followed by another well-formed foot within the same domain, e.g. F1[(x)] F2[(xx)(x)], interpedal government between the putative F1 and F2 does not obtain since it must be simultaneously licensed by intrapedal government within both participant feet. F1, however, is not an internuclear governing domain, hence 9 We use the term “stress clash” without recourse to the syllable. Thus, the term is applicable only when two consecutive nuclear positions, rather than syllables, are stressed. For instance, in the frequently quoted example thirteen vs. thirteen men, both “syllables” (thir- and -teen) are metrical governing domains F(xx), and consequently, their head positions are non-adjacent, hence no stress clash occurs. The stress shift in thirteen men, thus, is a result of a much more complex interplay between interpedal government and syntactic relations. 10 Direct government between heads of consecutive feet is not allowed in our model. The primary/ secondary stress distinctions result from interpedal government which is contracted between two consecutive feet, and not between foot heads.

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its potential head nucleus is not projected to the level of interpedal government. The inability of the initial nucleus to metrically govern – resulting in its inability of projection – is phonetically manifested by vowel reduction (cf. agenda, veranda, America, etc.). Nuclei trapped in this particular position are in fact unpedified. Consequently, a non-initial nucleus may never evade pedification as it is invariably preceded by another full nucleus by which it is obligatorily governed, hence it must be reduced and pedified under the foot-recessive branch. Therefore, unary feet are never found in polysyllabic domains in initial or internal position. In the domain final context, on the other hand, the nucleus of such foot is expected to lengthen to form a legal binary foot. This is confirmed by the analysis of polysyllabic words in which the final stressed rhyme contains a lexically short vowel. Although the EPD lists about 1,100 non-monosyllabic items which are marked as finally stressed, the group constitutes a fairly exotic collection of borrowings, mainly of French, Chinese, Russian, Spanish, Arabic and African origin, or English place names. The only homogenous subset of English native forms is that of disyllabic verbs (a’ttack), prefixed verbs (re’set), isolated compounds in which the stressed member is a final light monosyllable (-cook, -with, etc.) or truncated forms (le’git~le’gitimate or ce’leb~ce’lebrity) where the stress of the non-truncated form is preserved. Out of approximately 840 finally stressed borrowings, more than 25% have an non-finally stressed variant, which is often the dominant one, and 54 items retain their final stress but lexically lengthen the final nucleus. A selective analysis of their lexical frequency in the British National Corpus (~100 million words) confirms that the number of occurrences of particular items in usually negligible. More than half of them do not occur in the corpus at all. This raises the question of how representative such items may be and whether any generalisations concerning the English metrical structure may follow from their analysis. The answer is apparently negative. Native speakers of English, however, must in principle be able to process such forms, both articulatorily and perceptually. The argument that the English pronunciation of such non-native forms is a copy of their original pronunciation in the source language is easily refutable, since rarely do English native speakers have a direct auditory access to the original form. It is equally unlikely that they possess a rudimentary knowledge of such diverse sound systems as, for instance, Chinese and Arabic. Instead, we suggest that the exceptional stress on a lexically non-branching final rhyme functions as a strong boundary marker. Given the minimal lexical frequencies of the finally stressed borrowings, their phonetic information load must be maximal, in the sense of Harris (2005). The hyperarticulation of the word-final nucleus in lexically rare borrowings, i.e. through enhancing the vowel quality and tonally-driven pre-junctural lengthening, draws the perceptual attention of the listener to the word boundary. It seems plausible to assume that such anomalous acoustic characteristics of the word final stressed nucleus is aimed to delay the word recognition point until all phonetic information has been presented. This account seems fully consistent with the “cohort theory” of word recognition

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(Marslen-Wilson and Tyler 1980). A finally stressed item, e.g. Hamas, in a language with a generally non-final stress pattern must in all probability be the last candidate in the potential cohort of disyllabic items with initial [hæm-], if we assume that the structure of the cohort reflects the lexical frequencies of the items it contains.11 Thus, the phonetic execution of stress on a lexically non-branching final rhyme corresponds to the word recognition point, since no more candidates in the cohort remain. The special status of the final stressed nucleus is acoustically marked by an extra H+ tone on the onset of the final nucleus with a sharp drop towards its end. The actual frequency of such final H tone is remarkably higher than of a high tone assigned to a binary foot head in an identical context, e.g. Hamas (287 Hz) vs. massive (175 Hz). As far as the duration of the stressed nucleus [æ] is concerned, the one in the finally stressed Hamas is more than twice the length of that in massive (204 ms and 88 ms, respectively). The acoustic and perceptual energies of the nuclei in question show similar divergences. Moreover, the pitch maximum on the final nucleus of Hamas tends to be even higher than the average focal pitch on the accented nucleus in massive (220 Hz) (e.g. in a carrier phrase: Massive, not passive). This entails a further, and perhaps a more radical, inference that stress clash does not exist, either. In English simple domains consecutive short stressed vowels never occur. In suffixed forms the suffix either has a reduced vowel (¼foot recessive position) or it is autostressed (¼bipositional, i.e. a binary foot). Within a phrase, non-finally stressed items will never cause stress clash (¼they end in foot recessive nucleus). Finally stressed items and light monosyllabic content words, on the other hand, may be also be pedified (hence stressed) post-lexically when they are followed by an unstressed syllable within the same phrase. The following unstressed syllable may be either a monosyllabic unstressed function word or the initial unstressed (lexically unpedified) syllable of the following word, e.g. hit and. . . or hit another. In such cases, the following unstressed nucleus forms the recessive branch the foot whose head is the stressed light monosyllable. This is confirmed by the fact that the word-final [t]s in hit will undergo lenition in both examples, similarly to the foot medial post-head [d] in hidden [hɪɾ/ʔən]. Then, the T1 > T2 contour tone is distributed over two nuclear slots belonging to two separate syllables, hence no compensatory lengthening of the foot head is required. Formally, it is captured by post-lexical intrapedal government (N1 ! N2) whereby the N1 becomes the head of the foot and governs the following nucleus N2 in the phrase.

11

This of course refers to an isolated pronunciation whereby no syntactic or semantic/pragmatic context supports the word recognition by delimiting the number of words in a given cohort. Interestingly, while the word Hamas is more likely to be finally stressed in isolation, the initially stressed variant seems more natural in connected speech, especially in a well-established (e.g. political) context.

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9.

Finally, light monosyllabic content words and finally stressed items may be followed by an initial stressed nucleus of the next word, in which case they also need to lengthen to form a binary foot as well. Interestingly, English phrase structure rules successfully prevent the construction of longer sequences of stressed monosyllabic content words,12 e.g. Bob hit Rod, by separating them with unstressed function words, which restores minimal foot binarity through the post-lexical adjunction of the following unstressed nucleus, e.g. Foot(Bob and) Rod. Thus, two consecutive nuclear positions will never be both stressed. Apparently, stress clash is a representational illusion experienced only by those who have their feet firmly on the level of the syllable. The formal exclusion of unary feet, however, needs to be independently supported by acoustic data. For this, we must first establish which aspects of the acoustic characteristics of nuclei and rhymes are a true reflection of phonologically relevant regularities. One may suspect that the actual pitch and intensity values of nuclei and rhymes, which are natural exponents of pragmatic speaker- and contextdependent communicative functions, may be to a large extent non-phonological. Similarly, the duration of nuclei may also be influenced by stylistic functions. Thus, we assume that it is not the absolute acoustic values that encode phonological regularities but rather the systematic networks of relations between the acoustic correlates of stress that are both phonetically and phonologically relevant. These relations may then be expressed in terms of metrical governing relations. It is precisely why we take the systematic lengthening of the nucleus in isolated CVC monosyllables and finally stressed polysyllables to be phonologically relevant. As far as unary feet are concerned, neither metrical government obtains nor systematic acoustic relations can be empirically established. For instance, if one assumes that light monosyllables are inherently stressed, the actual acoustic values of stress correlates in such forms prove completely irrelevant, since they cannot be set against corresponding pitch and intensity values of adjacent rhymes/nuclei. Thus, the pitch and intensity differences between two or more isolated pronunciations of a given (C)VC item must be treated as non-phonological, and perhaps even extralinguistic. In other words, whether the nucleus in a monosyllabic 12

It may be accidental, but nonetheless intriguing, that function words following a content word are syntactically limited in number. This observation requires an extensive corpus-based analysis, but, if confirmed, these facts must be rhythmically related.

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word is pronounced with the pitch maximum of 500 Hz or 150 Hz and the mean intensity of, let us say, 84 dB or 70 dB, seems irrelevant for the perception of stress. However, if, hypothetically, the same values are mapped on a disyllabic word respectively, i.e. 500 Hz/84 dB on the initial nucleus and 150 Hz/70 dB on the final one, stress is unarguably perceived as initial. Note that in a monosyllabic word pitch and intensity values of approximately 150 Hz/70 dB13 would also have to be accepted as perceptually sufficient for the perception of stress. Interestingly, these values are quite similar to those of the final [ə] in a disyllabic initially stressed word, e.g. header (160 Hz/76 dB). This empirical paradox is resolved only if light monosyllables are assumed to be lexically unstressed and monosyllabic F(x) feet excluded from the typology, since no absolute acoustic properties of the nucleus can be indentified which correspond to the minimum threshold of stress. Both phonologically and acoustically/perceptually stress remains a relative property of nuclei and rhymes. As far as light monosyllabic words are concerned, it is only through the increase in vowel duration or left-to right post-lexical government that pitch and intensity differences bound to two adjacent non-empty nuclear positions may become phonologically relevant and perceived as stress. In our model, this is formally related to the requirement of minimal foot binarity F(xx). It needs to be emphasised that the strict ban on unary feet F(x) is first of all a consequence of their inability to support a contour tone T1T2 (e.g. HL).14 Since statements and questions in English are respectively marked by L and H terminal tones, isolated unmarked (statement-like) pronunciations of light monosyllables require a substantial increase in their duration to accommodate the extra L tone required in statements. The same holds true for the marked question-like isolated pronunciations, whereby the extra H+ tone needs to be supplied. In either case, the increase in duration is required for articulatory reasons.15 In disyllabic (and longer words) the temporal space necessary for the execution and perceptual robustness of a complex contour tone (HL or LH) is stretched over two consecutive nuclei, hence no lengthening of the head nucleus occurs. In government theoretical terms, a contour tone requires government between two adjacent nuclear positions. Drawing on Gordon’s idea of “tonal crowding” (2000), we attribute these differences in the realisation of the stressed nucleus in final vs. non-final position to the cross-linguistic absence of contour tones on light syllables. Since contour tones are combinations of two distinct level tones (HL or LH), their execution is impossible over one timing slot. Thus, a unary foot F(x), both in light monosyllables and in polysyllabic forms (regardless of its position within a word), would be 13

Compare with the isolated (EPD) pronunciations of: (1) Bob (133Hz/77dB) and (2) kit (493.5 Hz/73 dB). 14 Since this is a purely articulatory requirement, we infer that the ill-formedness of unary feet is cross-linguistic. 15 Rather than perceptual ones. As shown experimentally by Janse (2003), the perception of speech signal in artificially accelerated normal speech does not affect intelligibility. By contrast, when the subjects were asked to increase the speed of delivery they were unable to double the normal rate and their intelligibility plummeted.

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ineligible to carry two distinct tones. Hence, the avoidance of final stress on a light syllable and the absence of F(x) in polysyllables. The exceptional phonetic behaviour of both word-final stressed light syllables and light monosyllabic items is thus a derivative of the phonological ill-formedness of unary feet.

3.4

Conclusion

In our model unary feet are not “degenerate” but non-existent. Thus, the CVC words and final stressed CVC syllables in order to become stressable must either acquire an extra nuclear slot (lengthening) or post-lexically govern the following nucleus/nuclei in order to satisfy the requirements of metrical government. Since the notion of a governing domain necessarily entails the co-existence of the head (governor) and the complement (governee), the unary foot F(x) does not represent a well-formed metrical governing domain.

References Burzio, L. 1994. Principles of English stress. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Charette, M. 1991. Conditions on phonological government. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Ciszewski, T. 2005. The English stress system: Conditions and parameters. Studia Je˛zykoznawcze Wszechnicy Mazurskiej w Olecku. Ciszewski, T. 2010. Is metrical foot a phonetic object? Research in Language 8: 115–134. Csides, C. 2004. Farewell to strict directionality: Evidence from English. The Even Yearbook 6: 29–48. Csides, C. 2007. A strict CV approach to consonant lenition: Bidirectional government in English phonology. Language Sciences 29:177–202. Duanmu, S. 1996. Pre-juncture lengthening and foot binarity. Studies in the Linguistic Sciences 26: 95–115. Gordon, M. 2000. The tonal basis of final weight criteria. Chicago Linguistics Society 3: 141–56. Gordon, M. 2001. A typology of contour tone restrictions. Studies in Language 25: 405–444. Gordon, M. 2005. A perceptually-driven account of onset-sensitive stress. Natural Language and Linguistic Theory 23: 595–653. Gussmann, E. 2002. Phonology: Analysis and theory. Cambridge University Press. Halle, M. and J.-R. Vergnaud. 1987. An essay on stress. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Harris, J. 2005. Vowel reduction as information loss. In Headhood, elements, specification and contrastivity: Phonological papers in honour of John Anderson, eds. P. Carr, J. Durand and C. J. Ewen, 119–132. Amsterdam: John Benjamins Publishing. Harris, J. and E. Gussmann. 1998. Final codas: Why the west was wrong. In Structure and interpretation in phonology: Studies in phonology, ed. E. Cyran, 139–162. Lublin: Folia. Hayes, B. 1995. Metrical stress theory: Principles and case studies. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Janse, E. 2003. Word perception in fast speech: Artificially time-compressed vs. naturally produced fast speech. Speech Communication 42: 155–173.

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Lahiri, A. 2001. Metrical patterns. In Language typology and language universals, eds. K. Ekkehard and M. Haspelmath, 1347–1367. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Manfredi, V. 1993. Spreading and downstep: Prosodic government in tone languages. In The phonology of tone: The representation of tonal register, eds. H. van der Hulst and K. Snider, 133–84. Berlin, De Gruyter. Marslen-Wilson, W. D. and L. K. Tyler. 1980. The temporal structure of spoken language understanding. Cognition 8: 1–71. Terken, J. and D. Hermes 2000. The perception of prosodic prominence. In Prosody: Theory and experiment. Studies presented to G€ osta Bruce, eds. M. Horne, 89–127. Dordrecht: Kulwer Academic Press. Umeda, N. 1975. Vowel duration in American English. Journal of the Acoustical Society of America 58: 434–445.

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Part II

Grammar: Morphology and Syntax

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Chapter 4

The Psychological Reality of Grammar. A Cognitive Linguistics Perspective Henryk Kardela

Abstract The paper deals with the issue of “psychological reality” of grammar. It is claimed that a grammar is “psychologically real” to the extent it meets two criteria of psychological reality: (1) the criterion of explanatory adequacy in the sense of Chomsky (1965) and (2) the criterion of “realizability” by a psychological model of language use. The first criterion is connected with the language acquisition process – a grammar is psychologically real if it can be learned by a child, while the second, with the “explicit realization mappings” to the PDP neural model of language use – a grammar is “real” if its elements can be associated with analogous constructs in a processing model of language use.

4.1

Introduction

As defined by Joan Bresnan (1978: 3), a linguistic concept is psychologically real to the extent that it contributes to the explanation of behavior relative to linguistic judgments [. . .] [The issue relates] to the question as to whether constructions which are suited for description of one form of verbal behavior (intuitive judgments) are equally suited to the description of other verbal processes (the comprehension and retention of sentences) [. . .].

A realistic grammar, Bresnan continues (ibid.), must not only be psychologically real in this broad sense, but also realizeable. That is, we should be able to define for it explicit realization mappings to psychological models of language use. These realizations should map distinct grammatical rules and units in such a way that different rule types of the grammar are associated with different processing functions.

H. Kardela (*) Maria Curie-Skłodowska University, Lublin, Poland e-mail: [email protected] M. Pawlak and J. Bielak (eds.), New Perspectives in Language, Discourse and Translation Studies, Second Language Learning and Teaching, DOI 10.1007/978-3-642-20083-0_4, # Springer-Verlag Berlin Heidelberg 2011

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The paper examines the issue of psychological reality of grammar from a cognitive linguistics perspective. It is claimed that a grammar is “psychologically real” if it meets: 1. The criterion of explanatory adequacy in the sense of Chomsky (1965); 2. The criterion of the “explicit realization mappings” to the PDP neural psychological model of language use. We discuss these criteria in detail below.

4.2

The Explanatory Adequacy of Grammar

According to Chomsky (1965: 25), for a grammar to be “psychologically real” and, eo-ipso, be “explanatorily adequate”, it must be able to select, as Chomsky puts it, “a descriptively adequate grammar on the basis of primary linguistic data” and thus account “for the intuition of the native speaker on the basis of an empirical hypothesis concerning the innate predisposition of the child to develop a certain kind of theory to deal with the evidence presented to him”. A somewhat different formulation of explanatory adequacy of grammar can be found in Radford (1981, 1988), where it is stated that a grammar meets explanatory adequacy if it correctly predicts which sentences are and are not well-formed in the language, correctly describes their structure, and also does so in terms of a highly restricted set of optimally simple, universal, maximally general principles which represent psychologically plausible natural principles of mental computation, and are “learnable” by the child in a limited period of time, and given access to limited data. [. . .] to attain explanatory adequacy, a grammar must in effect be “psychologically real”; in addition, it must be maximally constrained (Radford 1981: 26; emphasis added).

Because the universal, “maximally general principles which represent psychologically plausible natural principles of mental computation”, are, according to Chomsky, “radically underdetermined by evidence available to the language learner”, they must – so the argument goes – be supplied, in the process of language acquisition, by Universal Grammar - UG (Chomsky 1981: 3). UG, let us add, is defined by Chomsky as an “innate component of the human mind”, genetically determined, which, to use Chomsky’s (1986: 3) parlance, “yields a particular language through interaction with presented experience”. It should come as no surprise, then, that, seen in this light, the idea of psychological reality of grammar is of considerable theoretical importance to both cognitivists and the adherents of generative grammar, although the basic lines of argumentation developed by the two linguistic camps differ markedly. Says Langacker (2000: 2): Regarding the issue of innate specification I make no apriori claims. I do however subscribe to the general strategy in cognitive and functional linguistics of deriving language structure insofar as possible from more general psychological capacities (e.g. perception, memory, categorization), positing inborn language-specific structures only as a last resort.

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And he adds (ibid.): If one aims for psychological reality, it cannot be maintained on purely methodological grounds that the most parsimonious grammar is the best one. Should it prove that the cognitive representation of language is in fact massive and highly redundant, the most accurate description of it (as a psychological entity) will reflect that size and redundancy.

The “massive redundancy” of the cognitive representation of language, alluded to by Langacker, is reflected in the way cognitive models of grammar approach linguistic structure. According to Langacker (2000: 1–2), for instance, generative grammar has always tried to minimize what a speaker has to learn and mentally represent in acquiring a language. Its minimalism was originally based on economy: the best grammar was the one that did the job with the fewest symbols. In recent years, the emphasis has shifted to positing a richly specified universal grammar, so that the role of experience in learning a language involves little more than the setting of parameters.

Cognitive linguistics rejects the minimalist approach to language and grammar. For Langacker, the grammar of a language is an “inventory of conventionalized linguistic units” (1987: 57), among which one finds, apart from lexical items, forms such as stock phrases, collocations and other fixed expressions which cannot be derived by means of syntactic or morphological rules, but which, as Langacker (1987: 35) notes, “thoroughly permeate [language] use”. To them, Langacker explains, belong expressions such as “take it for granted, hold. . .responsible for, express an interest in, great idea, tough competitor, [. . .], good to see you, mow the lawn, turn the page, let the cat out, have great respect for, ready to do, play fair, I’ll do the best I can, answer the phone, and never want to see. . .again, etc.” (ibid.). It is expressions of this kind – “prefabs”, as they are sometimes called – that have recently attracted attention of theorists of language acquisition. The reason for this is twofold. First, the latest research on L1 acquisition appears to indicate that children acquire a language piecemeal: making use of available expressions and various simple constructions, they abstract away schemas from them, which are subsequently used to sanction more complex new expressions they encounter (cf. Tomasello 2000; Da˛browska 2004; Wray 2002). There is yet another reason as to why L1 acquisition theorists are interested in formulaic language. The argument comes from language processing research, where it is claimed that (1) formulaic language “offers shortcuts” for efficient conveying of message thereby lessening the burden of rule-governed computation of meaning and (2) it helps fill in gaps in messages uttered in “poor communicative conditions”. Thus commenting on Segalowitz’s (1997: 105) observation about the importance of formulaic language in “understanding a spoken message in a noisy room”, that is, in a situation in which the person “will not be able to engage in all the complex processing that the situation requires”, Alison Wray (2005: 15–16) observes that it seems reasonable that “the main reason for the prevalence of formulaicity in the adult language system appears to be the simple processing principle of economy of effort” (Perkins 1999: 56). This economy occurs because it gives us access to “ready-made

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H. Kardela frameworks on which to hang the expression of our ideas, so that we do not have to go through the labor of generating an utterance all the way out from ‘S’ every time we want to say something” (Becker 1975:17).

Seen in this light, it should be clear that in order to meet the criteria of explanatory adequacy and thus be “psychologically real”, a grammar must be able to offer a viable account of “formulaic language” as well. Good candidates in this respect appear to be cognitive, “bottom-up” models of language, i.e. models in which more general constructions and schemas are abstracted from lower level units, rather than “top-down” rule-governed models of language of the generative grammar type. In what follows we take a look now at the cognitive, bottom-up approach to language acquisition.

4.3

The Cognitive Approach to Language Acquisition

As already remarked, the adherents of cognitive linguistics reject the “minimalist” as well as “universalist” approach to language acquisition as advocated by the followers of generative grammar. Tomasello (1995: 138; quoted in Da˛browska 2004: 70), for example, observes, somewhat sarcastically, that Many of the Generative Grammar structures that are found in English can be found in other languages—if it is generative grammarians who are doing the looking. But these structures may not be found by linguists of other theoretical persuasions because the structures are defined differently, or not recognized at all, in other linguistic theories.

Challenging generative grammar on the issue of the rule-governed linguistic creativity in the context of L1 acquisition, Tomasello (2000) notes that linguistic creativity in the case of language acquisition by children has been “overstated”. Although it is true, he argues, that, children do develop generalizations, transforming forms from, say, Allgone paper to Allgone sticky “glue”, on the other hand, the child, upon hearing a sentence such as The window broke is unable – unless he has already mastered other usages with the verb break – to form such sentences as He broke it or It got broken. This, according to Tomasello, should be taken to mean that at this stage small children have not yet developed the predicate-argument structures and are using context-determined “concrete” verbs, mastering their syntactic behaviour in the process of language acquisition. Da˛browska (2004: 219) argues in the same vein. She says: Because, according to CG, language is a structured inventory of conventional linguistic units, during the learning process children acquire a repertory of linguistic units—formulaic expressions like Do you want milk, together with appropriate connections between them. This is so because utterances of this sort, addressed to children by adults are used in a rich and predictable context, which enables the child to gradually develop some idea about their meaning.

By way of example Da˛browska describes a situation in which one day during breakfast a child looks at a milk carton while his mother pours some milk from it and says: Do you want milk? During the weeks that follow, Da˛browska (2004: 219) notes,

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the child hears: You want milk, D’you want milk? or Do you want milk? while the mother is holding the milk carton and looking at him, walking towards the fridge (which the child knows contains the milk), and in other mealtime contexts.

The outcome of this is that [e]ventually [the child] learns that you want milk is used when he wants milk and is offered it — in other words, he acquires a fixed formula with a communicative function (Da˛browska 2004: 219–220).

Below we give, based on Da˛browska (2004: 182), some of the children’s earliest question formulas appearing in order of emergence in the acquisition process of three children with age range 1.8–2.4, as found in MacWhinney’s (1995) database: What’s this/that?; Where NP?; What’s NP?; Who VP (VP ¼ did that)?; What (is) NP doing; Is it AP?; What happened to NP; Why S?; Is NP going to work?

Formulas of this kind, the results of carefully structured studies on questions with long distance dependences of the sort What did you say they thought Maria believed Chris needed? (p. 196), studies on contraction and inverted/uninverted questions involving auxiliary placement (pp. 191–196) – all this, in Da˛browska’s view, argues against a rule governed mechanism of question formation a` la Chomsky, in favor of the “piecemeal learning” thesis as advocated by cognitivists. Says Da˛browska (p. 200): On the standard generative account, the acquisition of questions involves learning to apply two rules, WH fronting and subject-auxiliary inversion. Both of these rules are very general, but subject to certain constraints. Such constraints are thought to be unlearnable, and hence the fact that humans apparently obey them is sometimes regarded as providing the clinching evidence for the existence of innate Universal Grammar [. . .].

For Da˛browska, the evidence available now thanks to the advances in modern acquisition research suggests an entirely different scenario of language development. Thus she says (ibid.): [. . .] early usage is highly stereotypical and [. . .] development proceeds from invariant formulas through increasingly general formulaic frames to abstract templates. [. . .] development is piecemeal, in the sense that children learn the correct word order independently for each construction, and the same changes occur at different times in different constructions. We also found no evidence of abrupt changes in behaviour which might indicate a shift to a different productive mechanism: instead we see slow, steady progress. This suggests that the endpoint of development – that is to say, adult grammar – might be rather similar to the kinds of representations that children use; in other words, that adult knowledge comprises not constraints on movement and such like, but rather fairly general templates like Can NP VP?, Who VP? And What BE NP TRANS.V-ing? These would also allow speakers to produce and understand a wide variety of different question types, thus accounting for the observed flexibility of adult behaviour. However, they do not involve movement, and hence do not require innate constraints or an abstract level of syntactic representation distinct from surface structure.1

1

Some evidence that speakers make use of ready-made templates and insert new material in them when producing long distance wh-question formations rather than follow rules and constraints comes, in Da˛browska’s view, from the grammaticality judgments of speakers of English involving

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If Da˛browska is right – if speakers of a language do indeed “fill in the slots” in the ready made templates acquired piecemeal in the process of language acquisition – then a more plausible grammar and thus a more “realistic” one should be a grammar that makes principled use of formulaic structures of this sort rather than a grammar which proposes rules and constraints on them. Needless to say, seen from this angle, all usage-based, bottom-up models of grammar which are currently being developed in the general framework of cognitive linguistics, Ronald Langacker’s Cognitive Grammar included, can be said to be “psychologically real” grammars. As we shall see presently, Cognitive Grammar appears to meet another criterion of psychological reality, namely the criterion of satisfying “explicit realization mappings” to a theory of language processing. A good candidate for a language processing theory appears to be a PDP neural model of language use, to which we turn now.

4.4

The PDP System and the Realizability of a Grammar

The Paralel Distributed Processing system – PDP – is a system of highly complex computer simulation programs of information processing (also referred to as Connectionism). A “typical” PDP model is presented in Fig. 4.1 below. The PDP model consists of units which are treated as being equivalent to biological neurons. Units are linked with other units by connections whereby each unit receives input from another unit and provides input to other units in the system. Neural network models of this kind involve units, activations, connections and connection weights. prototypical and non-prototypical structures of this sort. If, as Da˛browska notes, people were following general rules, there would be “no [felt] difference between prototypical and unprototypical questions, provided that the corresponding declaratives are equally acceptable. If, however, they use lexically specific templates, they should rate the prototypical questions as more acceptable than the unprototypical ones”. (p.199) The data presented by Da˛browska, including the acceptability ratings, appear to support this claim (p. 199): Prototypical interrogative:

Where do you think they sent the documents?

Mean: 4.5

Unprototypical interrogative:

Where will the customers remember they sent the documents?

Mean: 3.3

Prototypical declarative:

You think they sent the documents to the Head Office.

Mean: 4.0

Unprototypical declarative:

The customers will remember they sent the documents to the Head Office.

Mean: 3.7

Ungrammatical:

*Who do you think that left? *He left in the office and had to go back.

Mean: 1.9

4 The Psychological Reality of Grammar. A Cognitive Linguistics Perspective Fig. 4.1 A typical PDP model (Stufflebeam 2006; see also a discussion in Bechtel and Abrahamsen 1991 and Cattel 2006)

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output information Output units

Hidden units

Input units

input information

Least active

0 discrete (digital)

less active

.1,

.2,

.3,

more active

average

.4,

.5,

.6,

Non discrete (analog)

.7,

most active

.8,

.9

1 discrete (digital)

Fig. 4.2 The activation value system (Stufflebeam 2006)

A connectionist model contains three layers of units, including input units, output units and hidden units. These three types of units, which are represented diagrammatically by circles, are linked by connections, symbolized by lines/arrows. In a socalled feed/forward network, information flows forward from the network’s INPUT units, via its HIDDEN units, to its OUTPUT units. A hidden unit receives signals from input units, processes these signals and sends them – in the form of activations (or activation value) represented by numbers – as OUTPUT to other units. Neural networks are dynamic systems: when information is processed, some units send stronger, while others weaker activations. The activation values are represented by numbers and they oscillate between 0 and 1 for each unit. The activation value system is shown in Fig. 4.2. The connections between the input and output units are assigned “weights”, which represent the function of synapses in the real brain. In order to calculate the total connection weight, (cj), between the input units and output units one has to multiply the given weight and the activation value of the unit. The weight calculation in a neural network can be presented diagrammatically, as depicted in Fig. 4.3. Now, although Cognitive Grammar and the generative theory both aim at providing a systematic, explicit description of the internal representation of

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COMBINED INPUT (Cj) wj2

wj1 x

a1

x

a2

x

wj3

...weights

a3

...activations ... =

cj

Fig. 4.3 The weight calculations in a neural network (Stufflebeam 2006). cj ¼ the sum of each INPUT activation multiplied by its connection weight

language structure, of the two it is the cognitive account of such internal representation that can be more readily, it seems, “realized” within a connectionist model of language processing. According to Langacker (1991: 533), Cognitive Grammar, has, as he puts it, (1) a “natural affinity to connectionism” as neither model makes use of explicit rules, claiming that they “are unnecessary for a viable account of mental processing” and (2) Cognitive Grammar conceives of the speaker’s knowledge of “grammatical patterns and restrictions” in such a way “that a connectionist account of its internal representation is quite imaginable”. One can “imagine” a connectionist account of “the internal representation” because the “organizational features within the cognitive processing” are, as Langacker notes (p. 534), emergent rather than fundamental; they reside at higher levels of organization that emerge in processing activity whose basic character is roughly as envisaged in neural network modeling. [. . .] linguistic knowledge is stored in connection weights, and no direct analog of linguistic rules is discernible at the level.

Yet, although “no direct analog of linguistic rules is discernible” at the level of processing activity, this should not be taken to mean, Langacker observes, that “no analog of linguistic rules can be discerned at any level of cognitive organization”. In his view, linguistic constructs postulated for linguistic description – although they “are unlikely to be directly and individually represented at the level of weighted neural connections” – have for him “some kind of cognitive validity” as they (p. 534) might [. . .] correspond to certain aspects of the processing supported by these connections. Thus given a strongly motivated and psychologically plausible linguistic description, as well as a successful PDP model of the same phenomena, it would be both natural and [. . .] quite profitable to search for points of contact between the two.

But where exactly should one look, “quite profitably”, for “points of contact” between the two theoretical systems? The shortest answer is: one should look for them in the network of schematizations. For, according to Langacker, rules in Cognitive Grammar have the form of schematizations of expressions and are, as he puts it, “inherent in [. . .] the patterns of cognitive activity in whose occurrence

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their instantiations reside”. This being the case, linguistic rules, Langacker explains (p. 535), have a straightforward connectionist interpretation that invokes the standard notion of a state space. A PDP system with n units defines an n-dimensional state space, in which each dimension comprises a range of values that correspond to a particular unit’s possible levels of activation. [. . .] As the system operates, it changes state from one instant to the next [. . .] and thus traverses a path through state space. [. . .] [i]f mental experience reduces to patterns of neural activation, then [. . .] entertaining a concept, or invoking a linguistic structure—can be identified either with a location in state space or a path (a series of locations).

The parallels between a schema and a “diffuse location (or series of locations)” in the PDP system established, the extraction of a schema from its instantiations can now be described in terms of a neural account. Thus, according to Langacker (1991: 528), when patterns of activation corresponding to specific structures appear within a certain region of state space, they trigger adjusting connection weights which induce the occurrence of activation patterns falling in that region. PDP models can be said to be realistic from the standpoint of categorization, because they can, for instance, give rise to prototype effects. What sort of linguistic phenomena then should a PDP system be able to account for under the “realization mappings” condition between Cognitive Grammar and a neural network? In Langacker’s view, a linguistically viable PDP model must account for complex structured conceptualizations such as the conceptual embedding of complex sentences, quantifier scope. The model must be able to implement the co-activation of distinct structures and establish correspondences between them while retaining their separate identity. Examples include analyzability, metaphorical structuring and the correspondences between elements of different mental spaces in the sense of Fauconnier (1985) and Fauconnier and Turner (2002). An adequate PDP model must be able to handle conventional imagery, including profiling, trajector/landmark asymmetry, vantage point, and subjectivity. In what follows we concentrate on one aspect of linguistic structure, namely the reflexive – antecedent relation, a relation that crucially involves profiling, salience, trajector/landmark asymmetry and vantage point.

4.5

Reflexivisation in Cognitive Grammar

Reflexivisation in Cognitive Grammar, together with possessivity, metonymy and so-called “raising” phenomena, is analyzed in terms of the so-called reference point relationship (Langacker 1991). In a typical reference point configuration, exemplified by the possessive construction John’s picture, for instance, the conceptualizer (the speaker/hearer) gains, through the reference point, access to the range of targets, i.e. to concepts and meanings associated with the concept JOHN (such as, for example, picture, hat, book, girl-friend, etc.), which are located in the so-called dominion for the concept JOHN.

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Exactly the same mechanism is responsible, according to Langacker, for the establishing of the antecedent - reflexive relation in sentences such as John washed himself (cf. Langacker 1999). In this sentence, the antecedent John sets up a reference point and establishes a dominion in which the pronoun himself (target) gets its interpretation. The antecedent is construed as a viewer, who “looks at” the reflexive from his vantage point. Whereas, as Langacker notes, pronouns like reflexives, are “immediately accessible” to the conceptualizer in the current discourse context, a full nominal (here John), which is potentially treated as a reference point, is not. What actually determines whether a particular nominal is eligible or not for a reference point and how large the context over which it ranges is expected to be is determined by a number of factors including the salience of the prospective reference point and the nature of the conceptual connections with other elements. On the Cognitive Grammar account, the decreasing accessibility of reference points to the targets should be treated as an extent to which a given reference point configuration should be judged to depart from the prototypical configuration. In what follows we explore in some detail instances of departure from the prototype in question. Consider the following examples, which involve the reference point relationship proposed for reflexives (cf. Kardela 2009: 262): 1. Peter saw himself in the mirror. 2. John talked to Greg about himself. 3. (a) John talked to Mary about herself. (b) *John talked about Mary with herself. 4. A picture of himself hanging in John’s office appears to frighten Tom’s brother. 5. Jan obiecał Marysi [– kupic´ sobie płaszcz]. ‘John promised Mary to buy himself a coat.’

6. Jan kazał Marysi [– kupic´ sobie płaszcz]. ‘John asked Mary to buy himself/herself a coat.’

(1) is a well formed sentence: the first NP that is encountered by the conceptualizer is John, which, in the reference point relationship, fits the specification of person and number required for the reflexive. In (2), there are two potential reference points for the target, namely John and Greg. The sentences in (3) show an interesting contrast: whereas, as expected, of the two possible candidates for antecedents in (3a), it is Mary that is eligible for the reference point (on account of satisfying the person and number feature specifications); this is not so in the (3b) sentence, where no mental path can be established between Mary and herself. In (4) the reference point relationship between the target and the reference point is not easy to establish as the reflexive is not only situated to the left of the potential antecedent, but also the potential antecedents, John and Tom, enter the reference point relationships with office and brother, respectively. Still, himself is associated with Tom’s brother, not with John or Tom. Certainly, this sentence is not easy to process; it definitely departs from the prototypical reference point relationship for the reflexives. (5) is

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unproblematic: the reflexive sobie in this sentence can only refer to the subject Jan as the verb obiecac´ ‘promise’ is a “subject-oriented” verb; (6), however, does pose a problem as the reflexive sobie here can either refer to the subject or to the object despite the fact that kazac´ ‘order’ is an object-oriented verb (hence sobie should refer to the object of the main clause, that is to Marysia, not to Jan).

4.6

Parameters on Reflexivisation as Weights-Related Realization Mappings to a PDP System

The sentences involving reflexives discussed above and, indeed, any sentence involving the reflexive-antecedent relationship, can, as already observed, be arranged according to the decreasing accessibility of reference points (antecedents) to the targets (reflexive pronouns). That is, the argument goes, the more difficult it is for a reflexive to enter a reference point configuration with its antecedent, the less prototypical this configuration should be judged to be. The question now is how to measure the degree of this prototypicality. We would like to suggest, and this solution was adopted in Kardela (2009), that the departure in question should be formulated in terms of a set of parameters on reflexivisation. The parameters on reference point configuration for reflexives, in turn, we would like to claim now, should have – under the “realizability condition” – some analogs in the PDP theory. It seems to us that the best candidates for such analogs in a PDP model are weights. First, consider the parameters on the reference point relationship for reflexivisation. We shall discuss two such parameters: the Accessibility of Reference Points Parameter – ARPP and the Deagentivisation Parameter – DP (cf. Kardela 2009). The role of such parameters is, to reiterate, to signal the varying degrees to which a given reference point relationship should be judged to depart from the prototypical reflexive antecedent relationship. Let us look at the ARPP parameter first. In Kardela (2009) we claim that this parameter crucially involves the notion of chain of command principle in the sense of Kuno (1987: 96; see also Deane 1992: 206). This being the case, the prototypicality scale involving the ARPP for the Polish reflexives, for instance, might look as follows (the most prototypical antecedent-reflexive configurations are instances in (7a)(i) and (7b)(i), while the least prototypical are those in (7a)(iii) and (7b)(iii); cf. Kardela 2009: 263): 7. The ARPP and the prototypicality scale for the Polish reflexives (a) The Syntactic Scale: The accessibility of the subject of a verb for a reflexive varies in strength according to the syntactic role of the anaphor and is (i) Strongest in the case of the verb’s direct object anaphor: Jan umył sie˛ ‘John washed himself’, (ii) Middle in the case of the object of a complement clause: Jan kazał Marysi [SUB kupic´ sobie płaszcz] ‘J. Asked Mary to buy him/her a coat’,

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(iii) Weakest (unpredictable) in the case of sie˛ in prefixed inchoative verbs: Jan za-siedział sie˛-refl ‘Jan stayed-Perf. too long’ vs.*Jan nie u-siedział-Perf. sie˛-refl’ vs. Jan nie usiedział ‘J. did not hold out staying in one place’. (b) The Semantic Scale: The accessibility of the subject of a verb for a reflexive varies in strength according to the semantic/discourse nature of the reflexive and is (i) Strongest in the case of definite animate NP: Jan umył sie˛ ‘John washed himself’, (ii) Middle in the case of definite inanimate NP: Gała˛z´ sie˛ złamała ‘The branch broke refl-sie˛’, (iii) Weakest in the case of impersonal constructions -no, -to pragmatically governed: Nie odrobiło sie˛ lekcji, co? ‘One/you did not do you classes, did you’ (reproach). We will take a look now at the parameter-based prototypical reference point relationship for reflexives from the point of view of the deagentivisation process, which in Polish is marked by, inter alia, the presence of the reflexive particle sie˛. In order to do so, we have to introduce first the notion of energy chain. In Ronald Langacker’s model of Cognitive Grammar an event can be looked at from two perspectives: from the point of view of the so-called force dynamics construal and from the point of view of the so-called absolute construal.2 These two perspectives involve the so-called energy chain, in which an event is seen as involving the flow of energy which is transmitted from one participant to another (Langacker 1991: 283). The energy chain, in turn, gives rise to the so-called canonical event model, which underlies the prototypical transitive construction and which, as Langacker (1991: 285–286) puts it, represents “the normal observation of a prototypical action”. The canonical event model includes elements which provide specifications for semantic roles such as agent, patient, instrument, experiencer, etc. In contradistinction to traditional approaches, however, these roles, called by Langacker “role archetypes”, are treated by Cognitive Grammar not as linguistic roles but rather as pre-linguistic conceptualisations. The archetypal agent is thus a person who volitionally “initiates physical activity”. As a result, the transfer of energy takes place to an external object. The archetypal patient “absorbs” the energy and undergoes a change of state. The instrument is a physical object which is manipulated by the agent and serves as the “intermediary” in the transmission of energy. The experiencer is a person who is engaged in mental activity, and the mover (or theme) is an entity which changes its location. As already observed, the canonical event model represents the prototypical transitive construction: the participant who is typically an agent initiates the energy 2

For a detailed discussion of the absolute construal of events, see Langacker (1991); for a discussion of the absolute construal of the sie˛-constructions in Polish, see Kardela (2000, 2009).

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which is transmitted onto the patient. However, there exist constructions which depart from their transitive prototype in that they form a hierarchical organization in which each instance of such departure represents a “less transitive” type. The departures from the prototype form a cline, represented by the transitivity hierarchy (Maldonado 1992: 63). 8. The transitivity hierarchy Transitive > reflexive > oblique intransitive > middle > intransitive > absolute The hierarchy in (8) can be exemplified by the following examples from Polish: 9. Marysia zapamie˛tała słowa Piotra. (transitive) ‘Mary remembered Peter’s words.’ 10. (Ja) zapamie˛tałem siebie jako małego chłopca skorego do bo´jki. (reflexive) ‘I remembered myself as a boy ready to fight.’ 11. Piotr długo zastanawiał sie˛ nad problemem przeludnienia. (oblique intransitive) ‘Peter reflected on the problem of overpopulation for a long time.’ 12. (Ja) pamie˛tałem o jego słowach. (middle) ‘I remembered (of) his words.’ 13. Długo mys´lałem zanim napisałem pierwsze zdanie. (absolute) ‘I reflected a lot before writing the first sentence.’ According to (8), the most prototypical transitive construction is (9), since the energy flows from the agent (Marysia) to the patient (słowa Piotra ‘Peter’s words’). A less prototypical construction is (10), in which one participant is coded by both the subject, ja ‘I’, and the reflexive siebie ‘myself’. The least prototypical is (13), in which only one participant appears. We can now introduce the Dagentivisation Parameter. 14. The Deagentivisation Parameter: The use of sie˛ signals the departure from a prototypical transitive construction (with a (human) agent and a patient). In accordance with (14), out of the following examples, the sentence in (18) represents a fully deagentivized construction.

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15. Jan uderzył Piotra. ‘John hit Peter.’ 16. Me˛z˙czyz´ni pozdrawiali sie˛/siebie nawzajem. ‘The men greeted each other.’ 17. Piotr widział siebie/sie˛ w lustrze. ‘Peter saw himself in the mirror.’ 18. Lo´d stopił sie˛. ‘The ice melted-refl.’ The greatest degree of deagentivization of (18) is due to the fact that this sentence codes an event in which the last element of the energy chain is profiled, with the agent and instrument being present in the base, but remaining unprofiled (cf. Langacker 1991). This brings us to our initial problem, i.e. how to establish the “realization mappings” between the parameters on the reference point relationship for reflexives and a PDP system. Suppose that, as already mentioned, the parameters for the reference point configuration for reflexives, formulated in (7), have, in a PDP system, their analogs in the form of weights. If so, the prototypicality effects in the case of the reference point relationship for reflexives should be seen as corresponding to the activation values-as-reflected-in-the-weights of the PDP system. This being the case, a diagrammatic presentation of a computer-simulated program for the “realization mappings” of the parameters on reflexives to the PDP system of weights might look as depicted in Fig. 4.4 (arrows symbolize realization mappings).3

4.7

Conclusion and Prospects for Further Research

It should be clear that the psychological reality of grammar (and its explanatory adequacy), defined either in terms of language acquisition theories or in terms of Joan Bresnan’s “realization mappings” to a language processing model (like PDP) has no direct link with the actual behaviour of the brain when engaged in information processing. This is so because all connectionist theories are computer simulations of what may be going on in the actual biological brain milieu and are, 3 Note that we say nothing here of what exactly a computer-simulated neural network program should look like. We have nothing to say about the realization mappings of the sort presented in Michael Fortescue’s (2009) study A neural network model of lexical organization; nor do we claim to have aspired and developed in this paper an actual program of the sort proposed by Rummelhart and McClelland (1986) to account for the acquisition of linguistic structure by the child. Rather, we have attempted to show what kind of theorizing might lie behind an attempt to associate the linguistic parameters on the reference point phenomena for reflexives as presented in Sect. 4.6 with their analogs in a PDP system.

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weights weights

weights

weigths weights

weights

weights

weights

weights

weights

Accessibility of Reference Points Parameter

Deagentivisation Parameter

Parameter X

Parameter Y

(i) The Syntactic Scale: The accessibility of the subject of a verb for a reflexive varies according to the syntactic role of the anaphor.

transitive > reflexive > oblique intransitive > middle > intransitive > absolute

… … …

… … …

(ii) The Semantic Scale: The accessibility of the subject of a verb for a reflexive varies according to the semantic/discourse nature of the reflexive.

Fig. 4.4 A diagrammatic presentation of a computer-simulated program for the “realization mappings” of the parameters on reflexives to the PDP system of weights

from this point of view, treated as so-called neural bridging theories. This is not to say, of course, that the theoretical import of such theories is insignificant. Says Tomasz Krzeszowski (2010: 48–49; trans. mine):

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H. Kardela Models based on [the neural theory of language] simulate the ways in which neural connections perform simple cognitive tasks such as the acquisition of concepts and spatial terms (cf. Regier 1996), the acquisition of verbs expressing hand movement (Bailey 1997) or, finally, some issues pertaining to the meaning of conceptual metaphors. Neural bridging theories are criticized by their critics on the grounds that they describe the behaviour of virtual connectionist models and not the behaviour of the brains of concrete individuals. By the same token, the bridging theories – while attempting to define the mechanism of neural connections – completely ignore the issue of their localization in the brain. It is hard to overestimate the theoretical value of such models even though they have to be verified on the grounds of research on real brains.

It is a verification of bridging theories by neurolinguistic brain research that could bring a real breakthrough in answering the fundamental questions about the relation between the real brain processing, language and reasoning, including the following (Krzeszowski 2010: 48; see also Wro´bel 2003 for related discussion): (1) In what way are the neurons in the brain, linked to each other and with the whole of the human body, related to reasoning or, just to plain thoughts? (2) What do the computational mechanisms underlying neurons which are responsible for thinking look like? (3) What is the import of the fact that the neural connections in the brain are also connected with other parts of the body? (4) How does the neural structure learn, reflect and relate to conceptual structure and to language corresponding to it? Until these questions are satisfactorily answered, the psychological reality of grammar is bound to be defined in terms of the formulaicity-based theories of language acquisition or the “realization mappings” a` la Bresnan involving neural bridging theories of the PDP type.

References Bailey, D. 1997. When push comes to shove. A computational model of the role of motor control in the acquisition of active verbs. Unpublished PhD dissertation, University of California at Berkeley. Bechtel, W. and A. Abrahamsen. 1991. Connectionism and the mind: An introduction to parallel processing in networks. Oxford: Blackwell. Becker, J. 1975. The phrasal lexicon. In Bolt Beranek & Newman Report no. 3081, AI Report no. 28. Reprinted in Theoretical issues in natural language processing, eds. R. Shank and B. L. Nash-Webber, 60-63. Cambridge, MA: Bolt Beranek and Newman. Bresnan, J. 1978. A realistic transformational grammar. In Linguistic theory and psychological reality, eds. M. Halle, J. Bresnan and G. Miller, 1-59. Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press. Cattel, R. 2006. An introduction to mind, consciousness and language. London: Continuum. Chomsky, N. 1965. Aspects of the theory of syntax. Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press. Chomsky, N. 1981. Lectures on government and binding. Dordrecht: Foris Publications. Chomsky, N. 1986. Knowledge of language: Its nature, origin and use. New York: Praeger. Da˛browska E. 2004. Language, mind and brain. Some psychological and neurological constraints on theories of grammar. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Deane, P. 1992. Grammar in mind and brain. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Fauconnier, G. 1985. Mental spaces: Aspects of meaning construction in natural language. Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press. Fauconnier, G. and M. Turner. 2002. The way we think. Conceptual blending and the mind’s hidden complexities. New York: Basic Books.

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Fortescue, M. 2009. A neural network model of lexical organisation. London: Continuum. Kardela, H. 2000. Dimensions and parameters in grammar. A study in A/D asymmetries and subjectivity relations in Polish. Lublin: Maria Skłodowska Curie University Press. Kardela, H. 2009. Cognitive grammar as a parametrized continuum of linguistic units. In New pathways in linguistics, eds. S. Puppel and M. Bogusławska-Tafelska. Olsztyn: Uniwersytet Warmin´sko-Mazurski. Krzeszowski, T. 2010. Perspektywy semantyki. In Studia je˛zykoznawcze: od je˛zykoznawstwa teoretycznego do stosowanego, ed. J. Fisiak. Krako´w: Tertium. Kuno, S. 1987. Functional syntax. Harvard University Press. Langacker, R. 1987. Foundations of cognitive grammar. Vol. 1. Theoretical prerequisites. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Langacker, R. 1991. Foundations of cognitive grammar. Vol. 2. Descriptive application. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Langacker, R. 1999. Grammar and conceptualization. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Langacker, R. 2000. A dynamic usage-based model. In Usage-based models of language, eds. M. Barlow and S. Kemmer, 1-63. Stanford: CSLI Publications. MacWhinney, R. 1995. The CHILDES project: Tools for analyzing talk. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum. Maldonado, R. 1992. Middle voice. The case of Spanish ‘SE’. Unpublished PhD dissertation, University of California, San Diego. Perkins, M. R. 1999. Productivity and formulaicity in language development. In Issues in normal & disordered child language: From phonology to narrative. Special Issue of The New Bulmershe Papers, eds. M. Garman, C. Letts, B. Richards, C. Schelletter and S. Edwards, 51-67. Reading: University of Reading. Radford, A. 1981. Transformational syntax. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Radford, A. 1988. Transformational grammar. A first course. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Regier, T. 1996. The human semantic potential: Spatial language and constrained connectionism. Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press. Rummelhart, D. and L. McClelland. 1986. Parallel distributed processing: Explorations in the microstructure of cognition. Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press. Segalowitz, N. 1997. Individual differences in second language acquisition. In Tutorials in bilingualism: Psycholinguistic perspectives, eds. A. M. B. Groot and J. F. Kroll, 85-112. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum. Stufflebeam, R. 2006. Connectionism: An introduction. http://www.mind.ilstu.edu/curriculum. Accessed 15 August 2010. Tomasello, M. 1995. Language is not an instinct. Cognitive Development 10: 131-156. Tomasello, M. 2000. Do young children have adult syntactic competence? Cognition 74: 209-253. Wray, A. 2002. Formulaic language and the lexicon. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Wro´bel, S. 2003. Spo´r inz˙yniero´w: koneksjonizm a klasyczna architektura umysłu. Przegla˛d Filozoficzno Literacki 4.

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Chapter 5

A Morphologist’s Perspective on “Event Structure Theory” of Nominalizations Maria Bloch-Trojnar

Abstract The paper pinpoints problems of a morpheme-based approach to deverbal nominalizations as advocated by Grimshaw (1990) and Alexiadou and Grimshaw (2008). It is argued that nominalizations are capable of exhibiting the process/result dichotomy regardless of their formal exponent and there are two types of regular nominals which differ in terms of their aspectual characteristics. Nominalizations in -ing, which in Grimshaw’s model are regarded as Complex Event Nominals analyzable in terms of aspectual distinctions and having an associated argument structure, may display the process/result dichotomy and some concrete -ing formations can pluralize (building). Zero nominalizations, in turn, which are regarded as Simple Event Nominals with no a-structure, are demonstrated to be capable of appearing with satellite phrases corresponding to verbal arguments. They are telic, i.e. denote events and therefore have an aspectual analysis. Regardless of their actional interpretation, Grimshaw treats zero derivatives on a par with result nominalizations because they are countable and can pluralize, whereas, in fact, countability points to their telic character. Being telic they do not accept aspectual modifiers (for an hour, in an hour) or modifiers like frequent or constant, unless they are in the plural. Also their limited ability to accept NP satellite phrases may be explained in terms of their aspectual characteristics. Consequently, the properties of nominalizations are a reflection of the properties of two productive lexical rules which generate countable and uncountable nominalizations and lexicalization phenomena. Formal exponents should be regarded merely as clues rather than determinants of meaning/function.

M. Bloch-Trojnar (*) John Paul II Catholic University of Lublin, Lublin, Poland e-mail: [email protected] M. Pawlak and J. Bielak (eds.), New Perspectives in Language, Discourse and Translation Studies, Second Language Learning and Teaching, DOI 10.1007/978-3-642-20083-0_5, # Springer-Verlag Berlin Heidelberg 2011

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Introduction

This paper is an appraisal of a morpheme-based approach to deverbal nominalizations as advocated by Grimshaw (1990) and Alexiadou and Grimshaw (2008).1 Grimshaw’s model (1990) undoubtedly pinpoints the differences in the syntactic patterning of regular and lexicalized deverbal nominalizations and there is merit to the idea that the analysis of nominalizations should take into account aspectual distinctions. However, she attributes the properties of nominalizations to the affixes involved, which results in an inaccurate description of linguistic facts and has insufficient explanatory potential. By introducing the level of Argument Structure (henceforth AS), Grimshaw (1990) acknowledges the lack of isomorphism between semantic and syntactic structures.2 However, she strictly adheres to isomorphism between lexical and grammatical categories and their phonological manifestation. In her approach bound morphemes have lexical entries and morphological operations involve concatenation of morphemes in accordance with their subcategorization restrictions. In the model of Lexeme Morpheme Base Morphology (Beard 1995) advocated here “semantics, derivation, and affixation represent three distinct levels of morphological operations, which require two distinct mapping systems” (Beard 1998: 55). The rules determining the phonological representation of bound

1 By choosing the “event structure theory” of Grimshaw we also refer indirectly to the “structure model”, in which nouns that have Argument Structure in their representation contain VPs and/or verbal functional layers (e.g. Fu et al. 2001; Alexiadou 2001, 2009; Roeper 2005; Harley 2009). Alexiadou and Grimshaw (2008: 10) compare both models and conclude that “the principal difficulties arise from the non-uniformity of deverbal nominalization patterns: different affixation types exhibit different behaviour. The successes and failures of the two models occur on exactly the same questions. What one describes, the other describes. What one fails to explain, the other fails to explain, and for fundamentally the same reasons.” 2 The lexical representation of verbs has two facets, i.e. syntactic representation (Argument Structure) and semantic representation, which following Hale and Keyser (1986) has come to be known as the “lexical conceptual structure” (LCS). LCS serves as a representation of the verb’s meaning and among others specifies semantic relations obtaining between participants and spatiotemporal organization of the event. Despite close correlation between the two structures it is important to keep them distinct since there is no simple one-to-one mapping of theta roles and various syntactic roles or surface cases. Only true arguments (Pustejovsky 1995: 63–64) are necessarily mapped onto/expressed as syntactic constituents (John arrived late), whereas default arguments (John built a house out of bricks), and shadow arguments (Mary buttered her toast with an expensive butter) are not. The opposite situation is just as conceivable, i.e. there may be verbs with supernumerary syntactic arguments which contribute nothing to the semantics, e.g. reflexive arguments of perjure oneself, avail oneself of X. Furthermore, synonymous verbs may feature in different syntactic configurations, e.g. replace X with Y, substitute Y for X (Jackendoff 2010: 16–17). The level of Argument Structure introduced by Grimshaw (1990) is that part of the lexical entry which interfaces LCS representation and deep structure. It is derived from Lexical-Conceptual Structure via thematic and aspectual hierarchy.

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morphemes are independent of the rules targeting the lexical or morphosyntactic representation, which is known as the Separation Hypothesis.3 In what follows we shall demonstrate that nominalizations are capable of exhibiting the process/result dichotomy regardless of their formal exponent and that there are two types of regular nominals which differ in terms of their aspectual characteristics. Consequently, the properties of nominalizations are a reflection of the properties of two productive lexical rules which generate countable and uncountable nominalizations and lexicalization phenomena. Formal markers should be regarded merely as clues rather than determinants of meaning/function.

5.2 5.2.1

Event Structure Model Grimshaw (1990)

Grimshaw (1990) distinguishes two types of deverbal nominalizations, which differ in their Argument Structure licensing potential. There are complex event nominals (CE nominals) which are analyzable in terms of aspectual distinctions and which have an associated AS like verbs, and simple event or result nominals which lack both. In contradistinction to verbs the external argument in CE nominalizations is optional. If the external argument is present (either as a NP in the genitive case or a by-PP), the internal argument is obligatory. 1. Complex Event Nominals shooting, destruction, assignment (The enemy’s) destruction of the city The destruction of the city (by the enemy) The shooting of rabbits by Bill Simple Event/Result Nominals destruction, assignment, buy, offer, race, war, storm, trip The destruction was complete. A good buy/race *A good buy of clothes

Gerundive nominals possess all properties typical of CE nominals, i.e. they allow only the definite determiner thus precluding the indefinite article, the

3

Apart from Beard (1976, 1985, 1995) it is also argued for by Laskowski (1981), Szymanek (1985), Malicka-Kleparska (1985, 1988), Aronoff (1994), and Bloch-Trojnar (2006). Lexical and syntactic rules are abstract operations, which apply to the grammatical representation of a lexeme, whereas affixation and other morphological processes (prosodic variation, internal modification, ∅, etc.) are effected in an autonomous postsyntactic Morphological Spelling Component.

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demonstrative or pronominal one, never pluralize and never occur predicatively. The opposite is true of simple event/result nominals. 2. Complex Event Nominals The shooting of rabbits is illegal. *A/one/that shooting of rabbits is illegal. *The shootings of rabbits are illegal. *That was the shooting of rabbits. Simple Event/Result Nominals They studied the/an/one/that assignment. The assignments were long. That was the/an assignment.

The varying patterns and differences in terms of determiners and modifiers that the two types of nominals allow are attributed to the lexical specification of the affixes involved and the type of their external argument, i.e. Ev or R (Williams 1981; di Sciullo and Williams 1987; Higginbotham 1985). The nominal suffix -ing is associated with AS with an external non-thematic argument Ev, Latinate suffixes like -ation or -ment are specified for either Ev or R, whereas zero derivation introduces R and zero-derived forms are never CE nominals, as depicted schematically below. 3. Complex Event Nominals Latinate suffixes; -ing – N, (Ev)

Simple Event/Result Nominals Latinate suffixes; Zero derivatives – N, (R)

shooting N, (Ev (x(y))) observation N, (Ev (x(y)))

observation N, (R) offer N, (R)

5.2.2

Refinements

In Alexiadou and Grimshaw (2008: 2) and Alexiadou (2009) we find a slightly modified version of this approach, where nouns like examination are three way ambiguous, i.e. they have a complex event reading, simple event reading and a result reading. 4. (a) The examination of the patients took a long time. (b) The examination took a long time. (c) The examination was on the table.

(Complex Event nominal) (Simple Event nominal) (Result nominal)

Notably, the basis for this classification is their ability to take obligatory arguments, license event-related PPs and the ability to pluralize. CE nominals behave like verbs since they license event-related PPs (in an hour, for an hour), they “have arguments which are obligatorily present” (Alexiadou and Grimshaw 2008: 2) and they cannot be made plural. On a “simple event” reading, like CE

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nominals they denote an event, but are not associated with an event structure and hence lack argument structure because they do not license event-related PPs and admit plural formation. Result nominals do not denote events and behave like nonderived nouns (dog, event). They maintain that “nominals derived from verbs with no (overt) affix behave as simple event nouns and/or individual nouns”. Hence the ungrammaticality of the following: 5. *The constant offer of credit cards to students. . . *(The) frequent report of looting . . .

Furthermore, bare nominals such as stop, end, change, unlike their Latinate counterparts, do not nominalize transitively (Smith 1972): 6. The climate’s change *Global warming’s change of the climate

This is to be taken as evidence that “zero derived nominalization never preserves event structure” (Alexiadou and Grimshaw 2008). These and other differences between the two types are concisely summarized and discussed in Alexiadou and Grimshaw (2008: 3) and some of them are listed below: 7. Complex Event Nominals Obligatory arguments Event reading Aspectual modifiers Modifiers like frequent, constant appear with singular Must be singular

Simple Event/Result Nominals No obligatory arguments No event reading No aspectual modifiers Modifiers like frequent, constant only with plural May be plural

Zero affixation is opaque to argument transfer, the suffix -ing is argument preserving, whereas -(a)tion and -ment are ambiguous/unspecified.4 8. “Zero” affixation [N [V] ∅] Affixation with -ing [N [V] -ing] Affixation with -(a)tion; -ment [N [V] -(a)tion] [N [V] -(a)tion]

<. . .>

(Aspect: . . .)

<x, . . .>

(Aspect: telic/atelic/ . . .)

<. . .> <x, . . .>

(Aspect: . . .) (Aspect: telic/atelic/ . . .)

4 In the “structure model” argument taking properties of nominalizations depend on where the affix is attached: -ing is specified for “high/outer cycle attachment” and contains verbal projections, ∅ is specified for “low/root attachment”, contains no verbal projections and, therefore, has no argument structure, whereas Latinate suffixes can be doubly specified or underspecified.

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Problems

Alexiadou and Grimshaw (2008) admit that there is no formal apparatus to predict why specific morphemes have the properties they have. In their approach identical N–V pairs are regarded as zero affixation to maximize parallels with other affixation processes, despite the fact that an affix which is null is cognitively less plausible than no affixation at all. They need a separate lexical entry which is phonologically null since if there was no affix the derivative would lack the head. They are also puzzled by the fact that zero-nominals which look most like verbs do not preserve AS. The first two of these problems are theory internal, and can be circumvented if we opt for the Separation Hypothesis. Then, it becomes a matter of lexical accidence that a particular meaning is mapped onto a particular affix or group of affixes. There is also no need for zero affixes. On this view, morphology is not merely concatenation of morphemes. What matters is the system of relations or contrasts that morphemes create. If there is a number of co-functional affixes, no marking at all also performs a contrastive function. However, there are far more serious problems with Alexiadou and Grimshaw’s proposal. A closer look at linguistic facts makes their division of affixes difficult to uphold. It turns out that by rights all formal exponents should be regarded as ambiguous between an actional and result interpretation since zero-derived nominals display an actional reading (albeit different from that of -ing nominalizations) and -ing derivatives display lexicalized senses. Furthermore, zero-derived nominals can be accompanied by NPs which correspond to NP arguments of the verbal base whereas the arguments of -ing nominals aren’t as obligatory as they are professed to be. In a nutshell, the properties of nominalizations are not a direct consequence of the type of phonological marker that they bear.

5.3 5.3.1

The Data Configuration Properties

In their classification, Grimshaw (1990) and Alexiadou and Grimshaw (2008) insist on the obligatoriness of arguments in CE nominals and the treatment of zero derivatives as lacking an aspectual interpretation and AS. Alexiadou (2009) weakens the former statement and speaks in favour of optionality of licensing of AS in the nominal system but the latter “is a strong tendency, which still awaits an explanation” (Alexiadou 2009: 257). In his critique of Alexiadou (2009), Bierwisch (2009) notes that “the distinction between simple and complex nominals rests on the appearance of complements realizing argument positions. If however, argument positions of nouns are generally optional, as must be assumed for independent

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reasons, the distinction between the absence of a position in AS and an unrealized optional complement becomes spurious, and the distinction between simple and complex event nouns collapses” (Bierwisch 2009: 22). Thus, the difference between simple and complex nominalizations can be attributed to the optionality of nominal complement positions and not the presence or absence of AS. If nominalization is a lexical process, in which a verb is turned into a noun, the structures with derived nominals should resemble structures with morphologically simple nouns, i.e. there is no reason why their complements should be obligatory as in their verbal bases. Deverbal nominalizations depending on their number specification are preceded by appropriate determiners, and are modified by adjectives and prepositional phrase complements, which are optional. A fair amount of evidence has accumulated, which can be used in support of this approach. Cetnarowska (1993: 71–84) investigates the inheritance of Predicate Argument Structures in bare nominalizations outside complex predicates and concludes that it is effected in actional readings as in, e.g. 9. The purchase by India of howitzers from the Swedish firm of Bofors

This would imply that contrary to Grimshaw zero derivatives are ambiguous between argument-taking and non-argument-taking readings just as Latinate nominalizations. Consider the example below and contrast it with the one in (6) above: 10. Climate change – generally refers to the change of the climate by man’s emission of Greenhouse gasses5

Alexiadou and Grimshaw (2008: 3) do not attempt to conceal cracks in their analysis by citing David Embick’s examples, in which zero nominals show a full range of arguments and co-occur with modifiers like frequent and constant, a feature of CE nominals (Grimshaw 1990: 67). Even more examples can be found in Alexiadou (2009: 257) from Newmeyer (2009) and Harley (2009): 11. My constant change of mentors The frequent release of the prisoners by the governor An officer’s too frequent discharge of a firearm The ancient Greek’s practice of infanticide

Alexiadou (2009: 257) following Newmeyer and Harley suggests that only zero derived nominals from French/Latinate roots allow CE interpretation. However, in Wierzbicka (1982) we find examples of native bare nominals where NPs in the genitive correspond to the direct object of the verb.

5

http://www.astralweb.co.uk/smart-meters-glossary.html.

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12. John had a lick of Mary’s ice cream. Johnny let Jimmy have a throw of his new boomerang. He went outside and had a kick of his football. May I have a borrow of your pencil? Have a sip of my wine.

Newmeyer (2005) in his critique of Roeper’s (2005) article demonstrates how arguments adduced to argue for CE status of suffixed nominals can be applied to zero-derivatives. Examples where they occur with an anaphor do so are to point to the presence of a VP node in nominalizations: 13. John’s destruction of the city and Bill’s doing so too America’s attack on Iraq was even less justified than the latter’s doing so to Kuwait.

Randall’s (1988: 137) proposal that a deverbal noun derived from a transitive verb without an accompanying prepositional thematic phrase must receive a nonactional interpretation is not corroborated by the facts, e.g. 14. “But it’s not the sex I miss so much”, she continues, “it’s the kissing. . .”. In hospital she’ll be under observation all the time.

Cetnarowska (1993: 71, 43–44) gives many examples of actional bare nominalizations without thematic prepositional phrases: 15. She drenched my face with a kiss. A good throw was answered by a good catch.

In the literature we find other examples, which show the erratic behaviour of CE nominalizations, where an -ing nominal is preceded by the indefinite article and the plural is accompanied by arguments: 16. There was a capsizing of the boat by Mary (Mourelatos 1978: 425). The climber’s two ascents of the mountain (Filip 1993: 89).

In sum, in the process of transposition nouns inherit LCS rather than AS of base verbs. Event participants may appear as optional nominal complements. That is why the actional reading is available if there are no satellite phrases and it is possible to find examples where zero derived nominals are accompanied by NPs corresponding to arguments of the base verb. It is true that non-count nominalizations are far more likely to occur with satellite phrases and aspectual modifiers than their zero-derived count counterparts. Bare nominals occur mostly in complex predicates/light verb constructions (LVCs), in informal registers with native nominalized items (Adams 2001: 29). Stylistic considerations aside, it will be argued below that their reluctance to occur with satellite NPs has to do with their aspectual characteristics and the presence of suffixed nominals based on the same root.

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69

Aspectual Characteristics and the Ability to Pluralize and License Satellite Phrases

The analogy between count entities and events, on the one hand, and mass entities and activities, on the other has been of keen interest not only to linguists but also to philosophers and cognitive psychologists. This analogy is established on ontological, semantic and syntactic grounds (Mourelatos 1978; Langacker 1987; Krifka 1992; Brinton 1998; Willim 2006 and the references therein). Both events (i.e. telic situations) and things or objects (the referents of count NPs) are intrinsically countable and not subdivisible. Both have precise limits and delimit time or space (Krifka 1992: 30). Note the count modifiers with event nominalizations. 17. Vesuvius erupted three times. > There were three eruptions of Vesuvius. Mary capsized the boat (once). > There was a capsizing of the boat by Mary (Mourelatos 1978: 425).

Continuities (i.e. atelic situations) and “stuffs” (the referents of mass NPs) are non-countable. They are homogenous, they lack precise limits, and they “fill” time or space (Krifka 1992: 30). 18. Jones pushed the cart for hours. > For hours there was (*a) pushing of the cart by Jones (Mourelatos 1978: 427).

Brinton (1998) investigates the mapping of aktionsart properties of a verb to a corresponding nominalization and concludes that unlike Latinate suffixes, -ing nominals and ∅-derivatives fail to preserve the aktionsart of the verb. Whereas the -ing suffix “has the effect of converting the situation into an activity, of making the situation durative, atelic and dynamic” (Brinton 1998: 48), conversion “is a means of converting the situation into an event (an accomplishment, achievement, or semelfactive) by adding the feature of telicity” (Brinton 1998: 50). In line with Wierzbicka (1982), Brinton (1998: 50) regards “complex predicates” an important means of telicizing activities, “that is, of converting activities into accomplishments or achievements, without the necessity of stating an explicit goal”. Willim (2006: 119) also argues for their singulative or partitive effect and observes that in English when the nominal in the LVC is derived from a punctual verb a single event is denoted, whereas those based on homogenous activity verbs refer to an extended activity with an endpoint in its semantic representation (give a jump vs. have a walk). The telicizing nature of LVCs in English is achieved by the use of countable zero-derived nominalizations, which carry the semantic load of the predicate and impose clear spatiotemporal limits on the situation denoted by the verb. Telic activities can be multiplied whereas count nouns pluralized. Brinton (1998: 50) explains: “the result of multiplying situations (no matter what their type) a specific

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number of times is a situation of the accomplishment type”. Zero derivatives can co-occur with cardinal numbers, enumerative determiners and take plural morphology (Cetnarowska 1993: 43). 19. Give it a few kicks. Have another guess. Take a second look. I took several rides in his car. Can I have two guesses?

Adverbials of “span” or “duration” denote a specific quantity of an atelic situation (20a). With in-adverbials atelic situations also receive a telic interpretation (20b). LVCs (20c) are incompatible with both types (Brinton 1998: 48, 51; Willim 2006: 119; Filip 1993: 113). 20. (a) He walked for ten hours. (b) He swam in an hour. (c) *He had a walk for ten hours./*He had a swim in an hour.

Willim (2006) explains that if have a walk is telic, i.e. its semantic representation contains an endpoint, it is not possible to combine it with a delimiting expression with an independent endpoint, as this would violate the “one delimitation per event” constraint put forward by Tenny (1994: 79). Being telic, zero derivatives accept neither aspectual modifiers (for an hour, in an hour) nor modifiers like frequent or constant, unless they are in the plural. In her characterization of the progressive, Brinton (1988: 9) notes that this form “portrays the situation as progressing, that is continuing, ongoing or developing, at a certain time. Normally, a situation so portrayed must be durative in nature, though punctual situations, if repeated, may be viewed as ongoing”. By parity of reasoning, atelic nominalizations can occur with constant and frequent, whereas telic nominalizations are incompatible, unless they are pluralized to imply repetition. Also their limited ability to accept NP satellite phrases may be connected with their aspectual characteristics. Brinton (1998: 38–9) observes that “the entire VP enters into the expression of aktionsart”, e.g. run is an activity verb (atelic), but the predicate run (home, to the corner) contains an endpoint/goal and is thus an accomplishment (telic). For this reason atelic nominalizations may be more likely to accept satellite phrases that correspond to the internal argument which measures out or delimits the event denoted by the base verb. Nominalizations which are delimited (telic) show no need for further individuation.

5.3.3

Semantic Considerations and Formal Markers

Nominals with the suffix -ing, which are considered CENs, may display the process/result dichotomy, in which case some concrete -ing formations can pluralize (building, warning, painting, filling (in a tooth), recording) and as such they do

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not require obligatory satellite phrases corresponding to the arguments of the base verb. The nominalization in (21a) can only denote a concrete result (Quirk et al. 1985: 1290), whereas that in (21b) is ambiguous. 21. (a) Brown’s paintings of his daughter (b) Brown’s painting of his daughter

It can be interpreted as a CE nominal (22a) or a result nominal (22b). 22. (a) Brown’s painting of his daughter is a pleasure to watch. (b) Brown’s painting of his daughter is a pleasure to look at.

This would imply that the interpretation is context dependent and is not an inherent property of the affix involved. The meaning of action nouns, regardless of the derivational type they belong to, is subject to the inexorable process of lexicalization (cf. Marchand 1969: 303; Malicka-Kleparska 1988). Consider some examples of lexicalized senses of each type: 23. -ing building(s) filling(s) in a tooth warning(s) stuffing roofing

Latinate suffixes possession(s) solution(s) government(s) condensation disposal attendance

Ø cut(s) find(s) exhibit(s) deposit(s)

It should be borne in mind that lexicalized senses are not equally frequent with all markers. Latinate nominals are regarded as lexically listed and described in terms of redundancy statements (Malicka-Kleparska 1988), whereas -ing and zero derivatives are generally regarded as productive, hence generated by rule (MalickaKleparska 1988; Cetnarowska 1993; Bauer 2001). With regard to semantics, traditionally we talk about the process/result dichotomy, whereas in fact nominalizations display two kinds of actional reading, i.e. -ing nominalizations are interpreted as “action or process of V-ing”, whereas the Nomen Acti reading, i.e. “a single instance of V-ing” is prevalent in zero derivatives (Cetnarowska 1993: 112–113; Adams 2001: 28–29). Latinate nominalizations are regarded as ambiguous, but this ambiguity is more complex than generally assumed. The difference between CE and SE nominals does not lie in the obligatoriness of arguments but in different aspectual characteristics. Quirk et al. (1985: 1551) suggest that there is an aspectual contrast between the nominalisations in -ation, -ment, etc. and the -ing verbal noun, with the former referring to actions in their entirety, including their completion. 24. His exploration of the mountain took/will take three weeks. His exploring of the mountain is taking a long time.

Malicka-Kleparska (1988: 30) refutes this argument by demonstrating that the difference is due exclusively to the context, and provides examples of non-ing

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nominalizations which do not imply completion. This, in turn, shows that suffixed nominalizations can denote a process or an action in its entirety without losing the ability to license arguments. 25. The punishment of the boy is taking a long time. The organization of the party is taking a long time. The placement of the stone is taking a long time.

The position that Latinate nominalizations are in fact three-way ambiguous is also advocated by Pustejovsky (1995: 170). In his analysis, Latinate nominalizations are logically polysemous items, which form a lexical conceptual paradigm (lcp) constructed from two base types with three senses available (cf. Pustejovsky and Anick 1988): 26. Process.result_lcp ¼ {process.result, process, result}

This means that only nominals which have the process and result reading can have the additional event interpretation (the dot object reading). 27. (a) The house’s construction was finished in two months. (event) (b) The construction was interrupted during the rains. (process) (c) The construction is standing on the next street. (result)

That is why -ing nominalizations as in (28) below cannot be polysemous; this is because they are not interpreted as the result of an event.6 28. The launching of the space shuttle occurred at 10.30. The launching of the space shuttle was aborted.

To this we could add that there is a zero-derived noun which has the semantics to fill the remaining slots in the lcp of the same verbal stem. It has the event reading (the dot object) and the object reading. Consider the examples from CCAD (note the of-NP following the nominal): 29. This morning’s launch of the space shuttle Colombia has been delayed. The launch of a ship was a big occasion. The captain was on the deck of a launch, steadying the boat for the pilot.

Pustejovsky (1995) does not discuss zero derived nominals in any detail. However, he notes that purchase is logically polysemous between the event and the object involved in the transaction. Thus, we would use the nominal purchasing to refer to the process and purchase to an event.

6

Malicka-Kleparska (1988: 165) observes that civilizing and civilization are equivalent and interchangeable on the actional/process interpretation but not in the lexicalized sense. . . . to attempt the civilization of the Australian aborigines the civilizing of the Highlands of Scotland . . . the ancient civilizations / *civilizings

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30. (a) The purchasing of office supplies by State Agencies in Mississippi7 The purchase by India of howitzers from the Swedish firm of Bofors (b) For hours there was pushing of the cart by Jones. Information is called up at the push of a button.

However, -ing nominals such as launching, purchasing, pushing should be contrasted with nominals such as painting discussed at the beginning of this section. Since the latter display the result reading, the event interpretation should also be available, which immediately prevents an event interpretation of the noun paint. 31. Brown’s painting of his daughter is taking a long time. Brown’s painting/*paint of his daughter took one evening. Brown’s paintings of his daughter

The derivatives terminating in -ing and bare nominals can be part of one lcp where they show an aspectual contrast as demonstrated in (30) above. However, they may be derived from two homophonous lexemes, which differ in transitivity.8 This would explain why some bare nominals do not nominalize transitively (Smith 1972). They can be accompanied by an of-NP which corresponds to the subject of the verb since it is the only participant in their LCS representation. According to Malicka-Kleparska (1988: 103), there is a strong tendency for -ing to occur with prototypical transitive verbs with the theta grid (Agent, Theme), whereas Marchand (1969: 374) points out that the bulk of bare nominals is derived from intransitive verbs. 32. (a) The campaign for the end of slavery gained momentum in Great Britain . . .9 Economic factors were paramount in dictating Britain’s ending of slave carrying from Africa in 1807.10 (b) This will usher in the start of World War Three.11 If he supports America’s starting of WW3 with Iran.12

In sum: lexicalization affects lexical items (not classes), which explains why all types of nominals regardless of the formal marker may show the result reading (building, civilization, launch). Actional readings are of two types, process and event. Since only nominals which display the result reading in addition to the process reading can be three-way ambiguous, this ambiguity characterizes listed Latinate nominalizations and a fraction of -ing nominals. It follows that nominals 7

http://www.procurement.msstate.edu/officesupplies.pdf. In Levin (1993: 2–3) many verbal diathesis alternations (e.g. causative-inchotative) are regarded as rule governed conversions, i.e. a particular word is used in two lexical categories, because they show clear changes in argument structure, e.g. The window broke. vs. The little boy broke the window. 9 www.guyana.org/features/guyanastory/chapter44.html. 10 http://eh.net/bookreviews/library/0676. 11 http://www.threeworldwars.com/world-war-3/ww3.htm. 12 http://www.bbc.co.uk/blogs/theeditors/2007/05/prime_ministers_questions.html. 8

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which denote events and results (zero derivatives) cannot refer to processes. Bare nominals will not show an event reading if there is a Latinate nominalization based on the same verbal root. With native roots a bare nominal and an -ing nominal show an aspectual contrast (launching “atelic” – launch “telic”) or correspond to verbs differing in transitivity (ending – end).

5.4

Conclusion

The fact that Grimshaw specifies the differences in the syntactic patterning of actional and lexicalized nominalizations and takes into account aspectual distinctions shows her model to good advantage. However, it has two flaws. It has been demonstrated that the classification of nominalizations based on the formal markers involved cannot be maintained since nominalizations are capable of exhibiting the process/result dichotomy regardless of their formal exponent. This is due to lexicalization which targets items not types. Configurational properties can differentiate only between regular and lexicalized senses to the effect that LCSparticipants of the verbal base may accompany regular (actional) nominalizations but may not accompany lexicalized ones. Zero nominalizations, in turn, which are regarded as simple event nominals with no a-structure, can appear with satellite phrases corresponding to verbal arguments. They are telic, i.e. denote events (an entire process of verbing) and therefore have an aspectual analysis. Regardless of their actional interpretation, zero derivatives are treated on a par with result nominalizations because they are countable and can pluralize whereas, in fact, countability points to their telic character. Thus, there are two types of actional (Complex Event) nominals. There are uncountable/atelic nominals (-ing, Latinate suffixes) and countable/telic nominals (zero derived, Latinate suffixes). The former denote activities and are more likely to be individuated contextually by means of NPs and PPs, whereas the latter denote accomplishments and achievements and due to their aspectual characteristics are less likely to be further individuated in the syntax.

References Adams, V. 2001. Complex words in English. London: Longman. Alexiadou, A. 2001. Functional structure in nominals. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Alexiadou, A. 2009. On the role of syntactic locality in morphological processes: The case of (Greek) nominals. In Quantification, definiteness and nominalization, eds. A. Giannakidou and M. Rathert, 253–280. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Alexiadou, A. and J. Grimshaw. 2008. Verbs, nouns and affixation. In Working papers of the SFB 732 Incremental specification in context 01, ed. F. Sch€afer, 1–16. Aronoff, M. 1994. Morphology by itself. Stems and inflectional classes. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Bauer, L. 2001. Morphological productivity. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

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Beard, R. 1976. A semantically based model of a generative lexical word-formation rule for Russian adjectives. Language 52: 108–120. Beard, R. 1985. Is separation natural? Studia Gramatyczne 7: 119–134. Beard, R. 1995. Lexeme morpheme base morphology. Albany, NY: SUNY Press. Beard, R. 1998. Derivation. In The handbook of morphology, eds. A. Spencer and A. M. Zwicky, 44–65. Oxford: Blackwell Publishers Ltd. Bierwisch, M. 2009. Nominalization – lexical and syntactic aspects. In Quantification, definiteness and nominalization, eds. A. Giannakidou and M. Rathert, 281–320. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Bloch-Trojnar, M. 2006. Polyfunctionality in morphology. A study of verbal nouns in Modern Irish. Lublin: Wydawnictwo KUL. Brinton, L. 1988. The development of English aspectual systems. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Brinton, L. 1998. Aspectuality and countability: A cross-categorial analogy. English Language and Linguistics 2: 37–63. Cetnarowska, B. 1993. The syntax, semantics and derivation of bare nominalisations in English. Katowice: Uniwersytet S´la˛ski. Collins cobuild advanced dictionary of English. 2009. Glasgow: Harper Collins Publishers. Di Sciullo, A. M. and E. Williams. 1987. On the definition of word. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Filip, H. 1993. Aspect, situation types and nominal reference. Unpublished PhD dissertation, University of California, Berkeley. Fu, J., T. Roeper, and H. Borer. 2001. The VP within process nominals: evidence from adverbs and the VP anaphor do so. Natural Language and Linguistic Theory 19: 549–582. Grimshaw, J. 1990. Argument structure. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Hale, K. and S. J. Keyser. 1986. Some transitivity alternations in English. Lexicon Project Working Papers 7. Cambridge, MA: Center for Cognitive Science, MIT. Harley, H. 2009. The morphology of nominalizations and the syntax of vP. In Quantification, definiteness and nominalization, eds. A. Giannakidou and M. Rathert, 321–343. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Higginbotham, J. 1985. On semantics. Linguistic Inquiry 16: 547–593. Jackendoff, R. 2010. Meaning and the lexicon. The parallel architecture. 1975 – 2010. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Krifka, M. 1992. Thematic relations as links between nominal reference and temporal constitution. In Lexical matters, eds. I. A. Sag and A. Szabolcsi, 29–53. Stanford, CA: Center for the Study of Language Information. Langacker, R. W. 1987. Nouns and verbs. Language 63: 53–94. Laskowski, R. 1981. Derywacja słowotwo´rcza. In Poje˛cie derywacji w lingwistyce, ed. J. Bartmin´ski, 107–126. Lublin: Uniwersytet Marii Curie-Skłodowskiej, Zakład Je˛zyka Polskiego. Levin, B. 1993. English verb classes and alternations. A preliminary investigation. Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press. Malicka-Kleparska, A. 1985. The conditional lexicon in derivational morphology. A study of double motivation in Polish and English. Lublin: Redakcja Wydawnictw KUL. Malicka-Kleparska, A. 1988. Rules and lexicalisations. Selected English nominals. Lublin: Redakcja Wydawnictw KUL. Marchand, H. 1969. The categories and types of present-day English word-formation. A synchronicdiachronic approach. M€ unchen: C. H. Beck. Mourelatos, A. 1978. Events, processes, and states. Linguistics and Philosophy 2: 415–34. Newmeyer, F. 2005. Some remarks on Roeper’s remarks on Chomsky’s ’Remarks’. A comment on Tom Roeper: Chomsky’s remarks and the transformationalist hypothesis. Special issue of SKASE Journal of Theoretical Linguistics: 26–39. http://www.pulib.sk/skase/Volumes/ JTL03/04.pdf.

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Newmeyer, F. J. 2009. Current challenges to the lexicalist hypothesis: An overview and a critique. In Time and again: Papers in honor of D. Terence Langendoen, eds. W. D. Lewis, S. Karimi and H. Harley, 91–117. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Pustejovsky, J. 1995. The generative lexicon. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Pustejovsky, J. and P. Anick. 1988. On the semantic interpretation of nominals. In Proceedings of the 12th Conference on Computational Linguistics. Vol. 2, ed. D. Vargha, 518–523. Budapest: Association for Computational Linguistics. Quirk, R., S. Greenbaum, G. Leech and J. Svartvik. 1985. A comprehensive grammar of the English language. London and New York: Longman. Randall, J. 1988. Inheritance. In Thematic relations: Syntax and semantics, ed. W. Wilkins, 129–146. San Diego: Academic Press Inc. Roeper, T. 2005. Chomsky’s remarks and the transformationalist hypothesis. In Handbook of word-formation, eds. P. Sˇtekauer and R. Lieber, 125–146. Dordrecht: Springer. Smith, C. 1972. On causative verbs and derived nominals in English. Linguistic Inquiry 3: 36–38. Szymanek, B. 1985. English and Polish adjectives. A study in lexicalist word-formation. Lublin: Redakcja Wydawnictw KUL. Tenny, C. 1994. Aspectual roles and the syntax-semantics interface. Dordrecht: Kluwer. Wierzbicka, A. 1982. Why can you have a drink when you can’t *have an eat? Language 58: 753–799. Williams, E. 1981. Argument structure and morphology. Linguistic Review 1: 81–114. Willim, E. 2006. Event, individuation, and countability: A study with special reference to English and Polish. Krako´w: Jagiellonian University Press.

Chapter 6

A Recalcitrant Nature of Object Experiencers Sylwiusz Z˙ychlin´ski

Abstract Object experiencers have been the object of study for many years now. The extensive analysis by Beletti and Rizzi (1988) proposed to treat those verbs as unaccusative. This approach was later revisited by Pesetsky (1995), who provided arguments against the wholesale unaccusative treatment of object experiencer verbs, introducing a finer-grained semantic division among them. Recently, Landau (2010) has come up with an analysis which at first blush reconciles the two earlier treatments. The crucial part of the analysis concerns the status of verbal passives. Following a thorough cross-linguistic study, Landau concludes that languages fall into two types with regard to the presence of verbal passives, the first type exemplified by languages such as English, Finnish or Dutch, which possess verbal passives for eventive verbs only; the second type represented by Italian, French or Hebrew, which have no verbal passives at all. However, this neat typology seems to run into problems in Polish. It appears that Polish, which shares some properties of each of the two groups, falls out of the proposed classification. This paper briefly reviews the previous treatments of experiencer verbs and highlights the areas where Polish stands out, putting forth possible ways to refine the existent analyses.

6.1

Introduction

Ever since the inception of the generative enterprise, there has been an ongoing conflict between the proponents of syntax as the autonomous module of grammar and the adversaries of such a contention, holding that a continuous recourse to other

S. Z˙ychlin´ski (*) Adam Mickiewicz University, Poznan´, Poland e-mail: [email protected] M. Pawlak and J. Bielak (eds.), New Perspectives in Language, Discourse and Translation Studies, Second Language Learning and Teaching, DOI 10.1007/978-3-642-20083-0_6, # Springer-Verlag Berlin Heidelberg 2011

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areas of cognition, e.g. semantics or pragmatics, is inevitable. After more than half a century, the disagreement has not been settled. The class of psychological predicates, which is at the core of this article, exemplifies the gist of the disagreement very well. This recalcitrant group of verbs, which are characterized by the presence of experiencer and theme thematic roles, and involve the experiencer undergoing a psychological change of state, have long posed a problem for subsequent analyses because of the mapping/linking problem they display. Over the course of the last decades, various attempts have been made to disambiguate this issue, some of which involve purely syntactic machinery, whereas others call for fine-grained semantics to help explain the superficially surprising arrangement and properties of psych verbs. This paper focuses on a very narrow selection of properties of psychological predicates, the status of the experiencer argument being the most important among them. As more attention has been devoted to the question of unaccusativity, which is central to the proper treatment and representation of argument structure of psychological predicates, it is the class of object experiencer (or ObjExp) verbs that is the primary focus of investigation. The aim of this article is twofold. On the one hand, it aspires to be a fairly comprehensive overview and critique of different treatments of ObjExp verbs so far, mainly Belletti and Rizzi’s (1988), Pesetsky’s (1995) and Landau’s (2010). On the other hand, it considers how ObjExp verbs in Polish fit into the unaccusative scenario1 and, typologically, where they belong (or at least where they certainly do not).

6.2

6.2.1

The Beginnings: Psych Predicates and Their Thematic Structure Belletti and Rizzi’s Seminal Analysis

Over the years, psychological predicates have been the object of numerous analyses. Of the myriads of accounts, Belletti and Rizzi (1988), Grimshaw (1990), Pesetsky (1995) and Landau (2010) are all among recent authors of comprehensive theories striving to cast light on and explain the diversity of data.

1

Polish psych verbs were also studied by, inter alia, Klimek and Rozwadowska (2004) and Biały (2004). Their findings are not included here as the present paper’s main focus is on the difficulties one meets trying to implement the locative hypothesis into Polish object experiencers.

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The standard problem with psychological verbs is how to reconcile their thematic structure with UTAH.2 The canonical patterns manifested by psych verbs are presented in (1–3)3 (Belletti and Rizzi 1988: 291): 1. Gianni teme questo. Gianni.Nom fears this.Acc 2. Questo preoccupa Gianni. this.Nom worries Gianni.Acc 3. (a) A Gianni piace questo. to Gianni.Dat piace questo.Nom (b) Questo piace a Gianni. this.Nom pleases to Gianni.Dat At first blush the same y-roles are distributed arbitrarily, with the Nominative experiencer in the subject position and the Accusative theme in the object position in (1) (frequently referred to as class I of psychological verbs), the Nominative theme in the subject position and the Accusative experiencer in the object position in (2) (class II), and the dative experiencer and the Nominative theme in both orderings in (3) (class III). As such freedom of syntactic positioning is not otherwise widely attested, a convincing argument to explain this phenomenon was much

2 It has been one of the challenges to prove UTAH right or wrong. In its original formulation, it is as follows:

1. Uniformity of Theta Assignment Hypothesis (UTAH) Identical thematic relationships between items are represented by identical structural relationships between those items at the level of D-Structure (Baker 1988: 45). A weaker version of UTAH was proposed by Perlmutter and Postal (1984), which reads as UAH. 2. Universal Alignment Hypothesis (UAH) There exist principles of UG which predict the initial relation borne by each [argument] in a given clause from the meaning of the clause. In Zero syntax (1995), Pesetsky argues that it is actually possible to keep UTAH intact on the novel assumption that the repository of thematic roles is governed by finer-grained semantics, making it possible to distinguish among different types of the theme role. 3 Only the Italian examples are cited, but English, Russian or Polish, to mention just a few languages, exemplify a similar pattern, e.g. in Polish: 3. Janek boi sie˛ tego. John fears this 4. To przeraz˙a Janka. This frightens John 5. Jankowi podoba sie˛ to. To John (Dat) pleases REFL it To podoba sie˛ Jankowi. It pleases REFL to John

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needed. On the basis of a thorough investigation of Italian facts, Belletti and Rizzi (1988: 293) proposed one uniform underlying representation for sentences (2–3) (they treat (1) in an uncontroversial way, with the surface arguments marking their DP positions): 4.

S NP ec V preoccupa piace

VP V’ NP questo

NP Gianni a Giann

The diagram in (4) shows that psych verb sentences with different surface structures project the same configuration at the underlying level, with the experiencer asymmetrically c-commanding the theme, formalized in (5) (Belletti and Rizzi (1988: 344). 5. Given a y-grid [Experiencer, Theme], the Experiencer is projected to a higher position than the Theme. The motivation for movement out of the VP to the subject position comes from Belletti and Rizzi’s interpretation of Burzio’s Generalization (1988: 332): 6. V is a structural Case assigner if it has an external argument. The practical implementation of (6) leads to the conclusion that verbs of the preoccupare and piacare type (2–3) do not have external arguments, with the subject position considered as athematic. To derive (2), then, we assume that the experiencer gets the inherent Accusative,4 and the theme by virtue of (6), moves to the subject position to get Case. In (3), since Dative is assigned by a preposition, the experiencer is free to stay in the VP or move to the subject position.

6.2.2

Landau’s Reanalysis

In The Locative Syntax of Experiencers5 (Landau 2010), Belletti and Rizzi’s conclusions regarding the case of the experiencer are taken one step further. It is the author’s original idea that all object experiencers are not only inherently case marked, but also governed by prepositions, thus Oblique. This applies equally well to Dative arguments and, albeit in a less obvious way, to Accusative ones. Such an 4

This is possible if unaccusativity is restricted to the lack of structural case. If not indicated otherwise, all references regarding Landau will consider this monograph.

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assumption, to treat the source of Dative and (inherent) Accusative on a par, is not necessarily novel as it basically follows the argumentation of Emonds (1985), who noticed that inherent case is assigned by either overt or null prepositions, depending on language-specific factors. But this is not where Landau’s original contribution stops. The author goes on to present evidence that experiencers are in fact mental locations6 and, as such, locatives. To make it more plausible, periphrastic psych constructions are cited (Landau 2010: 11): 7. (a) Nina is in love (with Paul). (b) There is in me a great admiration for painters (Arad 1998: 228). It is easy to reproduce relevant examples in Polish: 8. Wzbiera we mnie gniew na mys´l o spotkaniu. wells up in me anger at the thought of meeting ‘I get angry at the thought of the meeting.’ However, apart from conceptual reasoning Landau amasses more empirical evidence to corroborate the locative nature of experiencers, drawing heavily on the cross-linguistic adjunct control and Super-Equi facts. The gist of this argumentation will be presented in Sect. 6.6, where Landau’s findings are confronted with the Polish data. For the time being, two crucial conclusions follow. One is the logical consequence of the claim that object experiencers are locatives, namely they must undergo (covert) locative inversion to a higher subject position. The other conclusion states that the nature of case on class II and class III object experiencers is basically the same,7 i.e. both groups of verbs are governed and marked for case by prepositions.

6.2.3

Psych Unaccusatives Revisited

One of the key diagnostics for unaccusativity comes from the domain of passivization. As observed by Marantz (1984: 144–149), unaccusative verbs are incompatible with passive morphology: 9. (a) Passive morphology absorbs the external (underscored) Y-role. (b) Vacuous dethematization is impossible.

6

Landau follows here the tradition of Jackendoff’s decompositional analysis of mental states (1990), refined in the works of Bouchard and Arad, among others. 7 The distinction is finer-grained, though its details are not of primary significance in the context of this presentation. As a matter of fact, there is a structural difference between stative/eventive object experiencers as well as agentive/non-agentive ones. For further reference, see Landau (2005, 2010).

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However, English ObjExp passives are relatively frequent (Pesetsky 1995: 22): 10. 11. 12. 13.

Bill was angered by Mary’s conduct. The paleontologist was pleased by the discovery of the fossil. Bill was irritated by the loud noises coming from the next door. Bill would not be satisfied by half measures.

Belletti and Rizzi go to great lengths showing that these passives are adjectival, not verbal, therefore not subject to facts noted by Marantz. Still, Pesetsky manages to show that some passives in English are unambiguously verbal:8 14. Sue was continually being scared by odd noises.

6.3

Partial Reconciliation of Facts

Landau (2010) pieces together all the facts compiled by his predecessors and takes his conclusions one step further, offering a cross-linguistic generalization on unaccusativity among class II psych predicates. A painstaking analysis of verbal/ adjectival passives in a cross-linguistic perspective allows him to divide languages into two groups with respect to the status of their class II psych predicates: 15. Psych Passives Type A Languages: Only eventive (non-stative) Class II verbs have verbal passive (English, Dutch, Finnish). Type B Languages: Class II verbs have no verbal passive (Italian, French, Hebrew) (Landau 2010: 47). His predictions depart from the reasoning offered by Pesetsky, as Pesetsky assumed that languages are basically similar with respect to verbal/adjectival passives, and pointed out flaws in the selection of examples in Belletti and Rizzi whereas Landau partly agrees with both sides. With the case on the object being determined as inherent, Landau starts out by explaining what two strategies can be employed to passivize a quirky object. 16. Strategies for Passivization of Quirky Objects: (a) P-stranding: The preposition that governs the object is stranded and reanalyzed with the verb. Pseudopassive: [TP [DP Exp]1 [T’ Aux [VP [V VPASS + Ø_ ][DP t1 ] ]]] (b) Pied-Piping: The preposition that governs the object is carried along to the subject position. Quirky passive: [TP [PP Ø_ [DP Exp]]1 [T’ Aux [VP VPASS [PP t1 ] ]]] (Landau 2010: 48) 8 For Pesetsky, the presence of a progressive aspect and the choice of prepositions are some of the diagnostics for the verbal status of passives.

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English and Dutch are among languages showing the former strategy, whereas Finnish uses the latter one (Landau 2010: 48): 17. This bed was slept in. 18. Daar werd over gepraat. (Dutch) There was talked about 19. Sinu-sta pidet€a€an. (Finnish) you.ELA like.PASS ‘You are liked.’ This leads Landau to formulate a cross-linguistic generalization about the availability of verbal passives in ObjExp verbs (Landau 2010: 49): 20. Verbal passives of non-agentive ObjExp verbs will only be available in languages allowing either pseudopassives or (oblique) quirky passives. Neither of the strategies described above for the passivization of quirky objects is attested in Italian, French and Hebrew (these three were tested by Landau), which is taken as a clear indication that they do not have verbal passives and, thus, belong to Type B Languages. Contrary to Pesetsky’s criticism of Belletti and Rizzi’s treatment of Italian participles, Landau is able to show that even though their analysis is not adequate for English, it still passes muster in Italian.

6.4

Inconvenient Truth (About Polish ObjExp Verbs)

The classification of participles put forth in the last section will only hold water on the assumption that object experiencers are PPs. What if they are not? All evidence leads to the inevitable conclusion that the nature of case on the object experiencer is different in Polish. It has been commonly assumed that the object experiencer bears inherent case. One of the universally accepted diagnostics for that is case suppression. Case suppression is clearly manifested in Russian, where the Genitive of Negation rule is in full operation. This means that objects, which in positive sentences come in Accusative, switch to Genitive in negated sentences. The rule does not work with class II psych predicates, in which Genitive is not possible: 21. *E`tot sˇum ne pobespokoil ni odnoj devocˇki. that noise.NOM not bothered not one girl.GEN ‘That noise did not bother a single girl.’ 22. *Ego neudacca ne ogorcˇila materi. his failure.NOM not upset mother.GEN ‘His failure did not upset mother.’ (Legendre and Akimova 1993, ex. 40) This is to be expected given that “[a] standard account for this contrast exploits the fact that inherent case is fixed in the lexicon; GN, which is a syntactic rule, cannot override this case” (Landau 2010: 25). Polish, however, despite the fact that

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it is very similar to Russian in terms of the Genitive of Negation rule, surprisingly produces well-formed sentences: 23. Ten hałas nie zaniepokoił ani jednej dziewczyny. this noise-NOM not worried any single girl-GEN ‘This noise did not worry a single girl.’ 24. Jego poraz˙ka nie zdenerwowała matki. his failure-NOM not upset mother-GEN ‘His failure did not upset his mother.’ Apart from case suppression, the non-inherent nature of case is also further substantiated by reflexivization facts. Neither in English-type languages nor in Italian-type languages can object experiencer verbs reflexivize: 25. (a) Tedious talks irritate me. (b) I irritate myself. 26. *Gianni si preoccupa. Gianni si worries ‘Gianni worries himself.’ A standard account for such a state of affairs involves the restriction on reflexivization (Landau 2010: 35): 27. Reflexive si/se may absorb accusative or dative case, but not oblique case. Given that Accusative in Polish has all the hallmarks of structural case, it seems a correct prediction to assume that Polish reflexives should be well-formed.9 This is, indeed, the case: 28. Złe wies´ci martwią Jana. bad news.NOM worry Jan.ACC 29. Jan martwi sie˛ (złymi wies´ciami). John worries Cl.sie˛ (bad news.INST) ‘John worries himself.’ As already stated, it is Landau’s underlying assumption that all object experiencers are introduced by prepositions and marked as Oblique. As prepositional phrases are islands, extraction out of them is predicted to yield ungrammatical results. The examples from Polish do not give straightforward results, the judgments being at least divided.10 9

An anonymous abstract reviewer pointed out that in Russian similar reflexivization facts obtain:

6. Ivan volnuetsja. Ivan worries-himself This, in fact, may be a further fact obscuring Landau’s analysis. Alternatively, it may suggest that the clitic reflexivization is not a true instance of reflexivization. 10 Similarly, different facts corroborating the locative nature of object experiencers are not unambiguous in Polish, e.g. object control into adjunct clauses and Super-Equi control facts.

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30. ?Czyją irytowało to siostre˛? whose irritated it sister 31. ?Czyją straszyłes´ siostre˛? whose frightened you sister 32. *Czyją irytują nocne telefony siostre˛? whose irritate night calls sister? Interestingly enough, the (at least partial) acceptability of (30) and (31) seems to be related to the (phonologically) light status of the subject more than to their agentive versus non-agentive subjects. In (32), whose subject is phonologically heavier, the judgment is straightforwardly ungrammatical.

6.5

More Trouble with Polish Participles

In the light of the discussion on participles in the preceding sections, Polish participles should be considered now in greater detail. Similarly as in the prior discussion, only class II ObjExp verbs are under observation, as they belong to the only problematic group as regards the question of unaccusativity. Verbs of this class include, among others, przygne˛biac´ ‘depress’, irytowac´ ‘irritate’, straszyc´ ‘frighten’, niepokoic´ ‘worry’, kłopotac´ ‘embarras’: 33. Krzyki za oknem irytują Piotra. shouts outside irritate Peter 34. Burza z piorunami przestraszyła dzieci. thunderstorm scared children 35. Wies´ci o kryzysie niepokoją obywateli. news about crisis worry citizens 36. Brak biletu zakłopotał pasaz˙era. lack of ticket embarrassed passenger Following Landau’s line of reasoning, it should be possible to determine whether or not a language has verbal passive participles on the basis of (20), repeated below: 37. Verbal passives of non-agentive ObjExp verbs will only be available in languages allowing either pseudopassives or (oblique) quirky passives. Crucially, Polish does not exhibit either of these two constructions. This follows if object experiencers are marked for structural Accusative. Therefore, a straightforward conclusion would require the classification of Polish as a Type B language (see (15)), which could be further supported by examples below: 38. ?Pogoda wciąz˙ przygne˛bia wczasowiczo´w. weather.NOM still depresses holidaymakers.ACC 39. *Wczasowicze są bez przerwy przygne˛biani (przez pogode˛). holidaymakers.NOM are continuously being depressed (by the weather.OBL)

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The following two sentences, however, show considerable improvement: 40. Krzyki na zewnątrz wciąz˙ irytują Piotra. screams.NOM outside still irritate Peter.ACC 41. ?Piotr jest wciąz˙ irytowany przez krzyki z zewnątrz. Peter.NOM is still being irritated by screams.OBL from outside With more examples, the picture seems to be blurred even further. As has already been argued before, progressive aspect is said to be incompatible with passive morphology on ObjExp verbs. However, (42) shows that the progressive is possible with a class II psych predicate in the active voice, and (43) proves that passive is also possible with the same verb. In the light of the discussion so far, this would indicate that niepokoic´ ‘worry’ is an eventive predicate, thus not unaccusative, and it forms verbal passive participles. 42. Wies´ci o kryzysie włas´nie teraz wyjątkowo niepokoją obywateli. news.NOM about crisis just now exceptionally worry citizens.ACC 43. Obywatele są teraz niepokojeni wies´ciami o nadciągającym kryzysie (choc´ ledwie co citizens.NOM are now being worried news about forthcoming crisis.(even though byli niepokojeni doniesieniami z rynku wschodniego). they have just recently been worried about news from the eastern market It becomes apparent, then, that the classification under (37) is insufficient as it does not predict the behavior of Polish ObjExp verbs.

6.6

Further Implications

Finally, let us see whether Landau’s most innovative finding, i.e. the locative status of experiencers, bears out the intuitions about Polish and its somewhat unruly behavior.

6.6.1

The Case of Super-Equi in English

The fact that object experiencers, by virtue of their locative nature, always undergo movement to the subject position higher in the structure would be harder to accept were it not for the evidence that Landau supplies. The relevant argument11 for the present purposes concerns Super-Equi facts. These facts were first observed by Grinder (1970) and relate to the observation that VP-internal infinitival clauses which undergo extraposition or intraposition create problematical accounts of 11

Other arguments relate to Adjunt Control, Functional Readings and Forward Binding.

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control facts. The puzzle is presented by the paradigm below (Landau 2001: 113–114): 44. 45. 46. 47.

Mary thought that it pleased John [PRO to speak his/*her mind]. Mary thought that it helped John [PRO to speak his/her mind]. Mary thought that [PRO to speak his/her mind] would please John. Mary thought that [PRO to speak his/her mind] would help John.

Although in each of these sentences two possible controllers exist for the PRO subject of the infinitival clause, in (44) the possibility of non-obligatory control is excluded, John being the local and only available controller for PRO. No such problem arises for (45), where the only difference lies in the main clause predicate, which is not a psychological verb. The examples featuring intraposition (46–47) both allow for either the subject of the main clause or the object of the embedded clause to act as controllers, instantiating, respectively, cases of non-obligatory (long-distance) and obligatory (local) control. In a more systematical way, the following facts obtain in English (Landau 2001: 115): 48. (a) In a structure [. . . X . . . [it Aux Pred Y [S PRO to VP]]], where Y and S are arguments of Pred: i. If Pred is psychological, Y must control PRO. ii. If Pred is non-psychological, either X or Y may control PRO. (b) In a structure [. . . X . . . [S [S PRO to VP] Pred . . . Y]], either X or Y may control PRO. To provide the analysis of the Super-Equi facts that would explain all attested patterns of control Landau has recourse to a number of stipulations. The most important is the OC Generalization12 (Landau 2001: 118): 49. The OC Generalization In a configuration [. . . DP1 . . . Pred . . . [s PRO1 . . .] ], where DP controls PRO: If at LF, S occupies a complement/specifier position in the VP-shell of Pred, then DP (or its trace) also occupies a complement/specifier position in that VP-shell. Once again, such an assumption reduces OC to a certain syntactic configuration. In the case of Super-Equi constructions under discussion here, it follows that as long as the infinitival clause stays within its host VP (either in the specifier or the complement position), then only the controller which is located in the same VP can control the PRO. Since both extraposition and intraposition force the infinitival out of the VP, it is logical to expect the impossibility of OC control in these cases. The question which has not been tackled so far is why infinitival clauses undergo extraposition. The stipulation that Landau makes in order to answer this question is found in (50) below (2001: 120): 12

OC stands for Obligatory Control.

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50. Extraposition VP-internal clauses must be peripheral at PF. The operation of extraposition is taken to be a case of VP adjunction (an extraposed infinitival is not dominated by VP), and its motivation is derived from cross-linguistic observations.13 51. Chain interpretation Any link in a chain may be the LF-visible link. The condition on chains follows naturally if, after Chomsky (1995), traces are treated as full copies (Landau 2001: 120). It ensures the freedom of choice of the controller (the copy within the VP may be co-indexed locally with the VP-argument or a long-distance relation may be established between the extraposed clause and the subject of the matrix clause). Lastly, the thematic make-up of psychological predicates has to be systematized as in (52) in order to reconcile the strange control facts of psych verbs (Landau 2001: 118): 52. Argument Projection (a) EXPERIENCER is generated above CAUSER. (b) CAUSER is generated above GOAL/PATIENT/THEME. Without going into too many details that are of no direct relevance here, it is (52) that makes it possible for Landau to explain the strange behavior of experiencers with respect to Super-Equi constructions. From (52) it follows that in a structure with the experiencer argument it is generated above the causer argument, thus making the causer VP-final, and annihilating the need for the infinitival clause to move ((50) is satisfied in situ). Importantly, non-obligatory control can only be established once the infinitival clause has left the VP domain. So the correct prediction is that obligatory control is the only option available as the causer never leaves the VP. However, in his recent book (2010) Landau no longer assumes (52). The experiencer is now the higher argument only in stative psych verbs, while in eventive psych verbs the causer is the external argument (Landau 2010: 104). The motivation for the infinitival clause to right-adjoin to the VP is still in place, then, as the external argument position is clearly not VP-final. However, this operation does not put the extraposed clause outside the scope of the experiencer. As must be remembered, experiencers (as locative PPs) raise to a higher position at LF. This means that in terms of scope their VP-internal placement does not mark their final position in the derivation. When VP-internal subjects undergo extraposition to a VP-external position, they are situated outside the scope of the VP-internal arguments, as is the case in (45). But this picture changes in (44), where 13

As Landau (2001: 120) says, (50) “corresponds to the cross-linguistic observation that embedded clauses are typically peripheral to the VP and seldom intervene between a predicate and other internal arguments”.

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the experiencer argument, having moved up to Spec,TP, still scopes over the infinitival subject right-adjoined to the VP.

6.6.2

Polish Super-Equi Facts

Yet again Polish slips out of Landau’s neat picture as the facts about control into subject infinitival clauses do not confirm the predictions from English. The sentences below are due to Bondaruk (2004: 262), who first discussed these facts for Polish. In terms of their illustrative power (49–52) are roughly equivalent to (44–47): 53. Marek1 uwaz˙a, z˙e Ewe˛2 moz˙e irytowac´ [PRO1/arb poprawianie popełnianych przez nią2 błe˛do´w]. ‘Marek thinks that it may irritate Ewa to correct the mistakes made by her.’ 54. Marek1 uwaz˙a, z˙e wymowe˛ Ewy2 moz˙e poprawic´ [PRO1/arb poprawianie popełnianych przez nią2 błe˛do´w]. ‘Marek thinks that it may improve Ewa’s pronunciation to correct the mistakes made by her.’ 55. Marek1 uwaz˙a, z˙e [PRO1/arb poprawianie popełnianych przez nią2 błe˛do´w] moz˙e irytowac´ Ewe˛2. ‘Marek thinks that correcting mistakes made by her may irritate Ewa.’ 56. Marek1 uwaz˙a, z˙e [PRO1/arb poprawianie popełnianych przez nią2 błe˛do´w] moz˙e poprawic´ wymowe˛ Ewy2. ‘Marek thinks that correcting the mistakes made by her may improve Ewa’s pronunciation.’ Unlike English, Polish does not allow for any relation of obligatory (local) control to be established. This runs counter to Landau’s expectation that at LF the extraposed infinitival remains within the scope domain of the raised experiencer. If this were so, obligatory control would be expected, which is not the case.

6.7

Conclusions

Landau’s comprehensive treatment of object experiencers cannot accommodate Polish facts. The property of having verbal passives is not linked to the passivization options present in languages studied by Landau. Also, nothing seems to support the inherent nature of case on the experiencer, which ruins the locative hypothesis. Thus, the following two conclusions seem inescapable: • Polish object experiencers do not show many of the syntactic characteristics typically associated with this group. • Polish object experiencers are not locatives.

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What is more, Polish potentially causes concerns for Burzio’s Generalization, which relates the capacity to assign structural Accusative to the presence of the external argument, suggesting that more has to be said about this relation, especially given that in Polish there is at least one more known situation where Burzio’s Generalization seems to run into trouble, namely impersonal passive constructions: 57. Napisano listy. were written letters.ACC ‘The letters were written.’ 58. Nie napisano listo´w. not were written letters.GEN ‘The letters were not written.’ Not only is Accusative preserved on the object, but also the operative Genitive of Negation confirms its structural status. It becomes necessary, then, to subject a greater number of languages to a painstaking analysis and find out if Polish stands alone as an exception to the locative hypothesis, or whether the locative hypothesis has to be reworked.

References Arad, M. 1998. VP-structure and the syntax-lexicon interface. Unpublished PhD dissertation, University College London. Baker, M.C. 1988. Incorporation: A theory of grammatical function changing. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Belletti, A. and L. Rizzi. 1988. Psych-Verbs and Theta-Theory. Natural Language and Linguistic Theory 6: 291–352. Biały, A. 2004. Polish psychological verbs at the lexicon-syntax interface in cross-linguistic perspective. Ms. University of Wrocław. Bondaruk, A. 2004. PRO and Control in English, Irish and Polish: A minimalist analysis. Lublin: Catholic University of Lublin Press. Chomsky, N. 1995. The minimalist program. Camdridge: MIT Press. Emonds, J. 1985. A unified theory of syntactic categories. Dordrecht: Foris. Grimshaw, J. 1990. Argument structure. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Grinder, J. T. 1970. Super Equi-NP deletion. Chicago Linguistic Society 6: 297–317. Jackendoff, R. 1990. Semantic structures. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Klimek, D. and B. Rozwadowska. 2004. From Psych Adjectives to Psych Verbs. Poznan´ Studies in Contemporary Linguistics 39: 59–72. Landau, I. 2001. Control and extraposition. The case of Super-Equi. Natural Language and Linguistic Theory 19: 109–152. Landau, I. 2005. The locative syntax of experiencers. Ms. Ben Gurion. Landau, I. 2010. The locative syntax of experiencers. Cambridge: MIT Press. Legendre, G. and T. Akimova. 1993. Inversion and antipassive in Russian. In The 2nd annual workshop on formal approaches to Slavic linguistics, eds. S. Avrutin, S. Franks and L. Progovac, 286–318. Ann Arbor, MI: Michigan Slavic Publication. Marantz, A. 1984. On the nature of grammatical relations. Cambridge: MIT Press. Perlmutter, D. and P. Postal. 1984. The 1-advancement exclusiveness law. In Studies in relational grammar 2, eds. D. Perlmutter and C. G. Rosen, 81–125. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Pesetsky, D. 1995. Zero syntax. Cambridge: MIT Press.

Chapter 7

On the Representations of Motion Events: Perspectives from L2 Research Jolanta Latkowska

Abstract Talmy’s (1985, 2000) influential typology of motion event constructions divides languages into categories based on typical lexicalization patterns of motion within the sentence. In the literature, priority is given to satellite-framed (S-languages) and verb-framed languages (V-languages), which encompass the majority of languages spoken in the industrialized world. This paper sets out to discuss the rationale behind Talmy’s classification, and to present evidence that calls into question the legitimacy of his claims. This encompasses data showing behavior that diverges from the category norm, as well as an analysis of the linguistic salience of Manner and Path in two typologically related languages: Polish and English. Although both are classified as satellite-languages, they show marked differences in the way they encode Path. Polish prioritizes Path by encoding it throughout the predicate, while English confines Path information to post-verbal satellite constructions. The paper closes with an overview of research into the acquisition of motion patterns by speakers of typologically contrasting languages, and makes a number of predictions about how Polish-English bilinguals may lexicalize motion events in L2 English. Overall, the paper accentuates the need to reevaluate the typology, which is especially important in view of the fact that, despite its inaccuracies, it inspired a spate of studies in the area of linguistic relativity, speech production and second language acquisition.

7.1

Theoretical Background

It is widely accepted that motion constitutes a change of location of an object with respect to another object. Talmy (1985) posits that a motion event is made up of several semantic components, which in addition to the Motion itself include Path,

J. Latkowska (*) University of Silesia, Katowice, Poland e-mail: [email protected] M. Pawlak and J. Bielak (eds.), New Perspectives in Language, Discourse and Translation Studies, Second Language Learning and Teaching, DOI 10.1007/978-3-642-20083-0_7, # Springer-Verlag Berlin Heidelberg 2011

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Manner, Ground and Figure (Talmy 2003; cf. Lakoff 1987). Path refers to the trajectory or directionality of a moving object (Figure) and specifies the Source, e.g. from the supermarket, and Goal of the activity, e.g. to the bus stop, as well as its Medium, e.g. through the Red Square. Ground is the reference object, while Manner covers the motor patterns of movement, its rhythm and pace, and the effort put into it. Examples (1a) and (1b) present the main elements of a simple motion event in English (Slobin 2005; Talmy 1985). 1. (a) John Figure (b) The bottle Figure

ran Motion + Manner rolled Motion + Manner

into Path off Path

the room. Goal the table. Ground

Languages differ with regard to how these components are encoded syntactically. Overall, Talmy (2003) speaks of verb-framed languages (V-languages), which encode Path and Motion in the main verb of a clause, e.g. enter, exit, and satellite-framed languages (S-languages), where Path is encoded in a satellite, i.e. an attached verb particle (in, out), prepositional phrase (PP, e.g. into the cave) or a verb prefix, as can be observed in Slavic languages, e.g. w-biec in Polish (Eng. in-run). Both language types also differ as regards the Manner of motion, which in satellite languages, often referred to as high-Manner languages, is conveyed by the verb. Consequently, such languages have a larger stock of Manner verbs, the less frequent of which convey finer semantic distinctions. Verb-framed languages, by contrast, code Manner of motion by means of an adjunct or simply do not mention it (Slobin 2003), and are hence labeled low-Manner languages. In Talmy’s typology, Manner and Cause of motion are treated as semantic equivalents, which are lexicalized in a similar way. At the discourse level, S-languages accumulate Path particles and prepositional phrases next to the main verb and encode both Path and Manner in a single clause (Allen et al. 2007), while V-languages typically use two or more separate clauses, as shown in example (2), or omit Manner information altogether. 2. English original: I ran out the kitchen door, past the animal pens, towards Jaso´n’s house. Spanish translation: Sali por la puerta de la cocina (I exited the kitchen door), pase por los corrales (passed by the animal pens), y me dirigi a casa de Jaso´n (and directed myself to Jaso´n’s house) (Slobin 2005). This general formula was subsequently modified by Aske (1989), who drawing on an analysis of how Spanish verbs lexicalize motion, discovered a general tendency of V-languages to use Manner verbs only in combination with atelic Path phrases, i.e. those which do not denote event completion or boundary-crossing, as shown in example (3). 3. We walked along the beach (French: Nous avons marche´ le long de la plage; Pourcel 2003: 55).

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Since S-languages make use of both atelic and telic, i.e. directional and resultative Path satellites, of which the latter clearly indicate an activity’s end point and/or boundary crossing (Pourcel 2003; Papafragou et al. 2008; Cadierno and Lund 2004), the differences between the two language types are limited to how they encode bounded (telic) situations, where V-languages allow Path verbs only. Satellite-framed languages include Germanic, Celtic, Slavic and Finno-Ugric languages, while verb-framed languages comprise Greek, Basque, Japanese, Korean, Romance, Turkic and Semitic languages (Riemer 2010). An additional category proposed by Talmy includes languages such as Atsugewi and Navajo, which conflate Figure and Motion in the verb, as exemplified by the English sentence It rained in through the bedroom window (Aske 1989). Talmy’s three-way typology was subsequently extended by Slobin (2004, 2006), who introduced yet another category of equipollently-framed languages (E-languages). It encompasses serial-verb languages, which express Path and Motion by using two or three verbs in a clause, none of which is marked for finiteness, as in the Thai sentence cha´n dəən (paj) (Eng. I walk go ‘I am walking’) (Slobin 2006: 4).

7.2

Conflicting Research Results

Although Talmy and his associates continue to refine their framework, evidence of major inconsistencies has steadily been accumulating. To begin with, it has been shown that the categorical contrasts suggested by Talmy are by no means absolute. This is certainly the case with the Manner/Path distinction as speakers of both V- and S-languages tend to use patterns that diverge from the category norm. In fact, Beavers et al. (2010) note that most languages straddle more than one category. For instance, even though Turkish is a V-language, where Manner and Path are specified in separate clauses, some of its motion verbs convey both elements in a way typical of S-languages, e.g. the Turkish word for climb (Jarvis and Pavlenko 2008). Similar trends have been reported by Pourcel and Kopecka (2005) for French, which allows Manner to be encoded in the main verb and Path in a gerund, as in courir en montant ‘run ascending’. Moreover, French has a number of frequent motion verbs, which contain a prefix expressing Path, e.g. a-ccourir ‘run to’ and a-tterir ‘touch down’, ‘land’ (Kopecka 2006). By the same token, both Polish and English, despite being satellite languages, are capable of encoding Manner in an adjunct (adverbial of manner), as in opus´cic´ sale˛ biegiem ‘leave a room at a run’. Likewise, Brown and Gullberg (2008) found that contrary to typological trends, Japanese (V-language) speakers use a wide range of Manner verbs as well. The tendency has come to light thanks to the findings of Ohara (2004; cited in Brown and Gullberg 2008), who on analyzing the translation of Tolkien’s The Hobbit into Japanese, found the verb to be the prevalent means of conveying Manner information. What is more, the verbs often conflated Manner and Path. Further still, Beavers et al. (2004) demonstrate that English allows motion verbs to

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encode neither Path nor Manner since these may be encoded in the satellites, as portrayed in example (4): 4. John moved stealthily out of the room. In some S-languages, e.g. English, the coding of Manner is optional. Talmy (1985) enumerates the following English verbs which carry Path but not Manner: enter, ascend, descend, cross, pass, circle, advance, proceed, approach, arrive, depart, return, join, separate, part, rise, leave, near and follow. At the opposite end are languages such as Russian, which encodes Manner obligatorily (Jarvis and Pavlenko 2008) but with varying degrees of Manner salience. Finally, in Mandarin, three options, i.e. V-, S- and E-framing are possible (Beavers et al. 2010: 357). In the light of the above, the inescapable conclusion, and one that was drawn by Talmy himself (Talmy 1985: 62), is that the Manner/Path distinction only reflects the most characteristic, frequent and colloquial ways of talking about motion, which in turn might be determined by factors such as ease of processing (Slobin 2004) and frequency of use (Papafragou and Selimis 2010). Also, it should not escape notice that individuals have at their disposal a variety of linguistic and nonlinguistic devices that may compensate for the lack of category specific lexicalization. In this connection, Slobin (2004) lists adverbials of Manner, ideophones, i.e. words which imitate sounds and may function as adverbials, and gestures, which supply information about Manner that has not been encoded linguistically. Somewhat overlooked by both Talmy and Slobin is the fact that in some languages verbs of Manner implicate Path in addition to encoding Manner. That this may be the case has been pointed out by quite a few researchers with regard to a representative number of languages. For instance, in English verbs like walk, run, swim and fly lexicalize both Manner and the direction of motion, which proceeds towards an unspecified goal (Tsujimura 2007: 403). Likewise, climb a tree expresses both Manner and upward movement. Malt et al. (2010) used video clips to elicit Manner verbs for the two basic biomechanical categories of running and walking. They found that contrary to typological taxonomies Spanish, English and Japanese used conventional Manner verbs to encode the distinction. What is more, the Japanese never used their main walking term to refer to walking in place or backwards, which in the authors’ opinion indicates that for the Japanese forward movement is part of the meaning of walk. In English, by contrast, movement in a direction other than forwards has to be specifically qualified by an adverb or PP, as shown above. Other studies along these lines are Allen et al. (2007) and Fe´rez (2007). The latter enumerates a number of Spanish and English verbs which, she contends, encode Path as well as Manner information. Her list includes flee, slink, scurry, scuttle, charge, track, stalk, and rove together with their Spanish analogues. Allen et al. (2007), in turn, divide English Manner verbs into those that convey the idea of Manner causing a change of location, and those where Manner does not have such an effect (cf. Beavers et al. 2004; Willim 2006). For example, run denotes continuous movement forward, while rotate does not convey this notion. Obviously, one could speculate that Allen’s observations allude to the prototypical scenarios developed for specific Manner verbs rather than their

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semantic composition (c.f. Jackendoff 1990). Although clearly dependent on the adopted theoretical stance, this perspective is of relevance, particularly in view of the fact that pragmatic and contextual factors (Willim 2006; Beavers et al. 2004) often conspire to give the impression of motion along a trajectory, as shown in example (5), where climb expresses Path but not Manner even though, overall, it tends to be classified as a Manner verb. 5. The plane climbed to 9000 feet. Taken together, these considerations create the impression that in linguistic renditions of directed motion, Path is more semantically salient than Manner (cf. Jackendoff 1990). Indeed, Talmy’s (2000) modified framework includes Path under the core schema of motion events, together with Aspect, State Change, and others. Manner and Cause comprise supporting relations, i.e. those that may be but do not need to be conveyed. It is the locus of the core schema either in the verb root or in the satellite that determines classification as a V- or S-language. Relations within the core schema are implicational in the sense that if Path is encoded in the verb, the remaining components will also be encoded. Although this modified version offers a more comprehensive perspective on the lexicalization of motion, the current discussion will concentrate on the Path/Manner contrast, since it became a point of departure for numerous investigations in the field of SLA and bilingualism. As regards the advantage of Path over Manner, the evidence in support of this claim will be discussed on the basis of Polish, although it is likely to apply to other Slavic languages, too (cf. Pavlenko’s (2010) analysis of the motion lexicon in Russian).

7.3

Path or Manner: Evidence from Polish

Overall, Polish classifications of motion verbs are more inclusive than the original Talmyan framework, and consequently incorporate many of the dimensions that Talmy (1985) was found to be lacking. Thus, Kubiszyn-Me˛drala (http://celta. paris-sorbonne.fr/anasem/papers/Motion/CzasRuch.pdf; cf. Laskowski 1999: 176; Bojar 1979: 24–31) speaks of two semantically distinct verb categories, which refer either to change of location or to motion that does not result in locational change. Of relevance to the current discussion are change of location verbs, which can be further subdivided into directed motion verbs and indeterminate motion verbs. The former denote one-way movement along a specific trajectory, e.g. is´c´, biec ‘walk’ and ‘run’, respectively, while the latter encode habitual and/or iterative movement along an unspecified path or in multiple directions, e.g. chodzic´ ‘walk repeatedly’. Laskowski (1999: 50) enumerates the following semantic components of motion events in Polish (see example 6): 6. Obiekt Figure

przemieszczał sie˛ Motion

przez pole Path

od lasu Source

ku rzece. Goal

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‘An object was moving across a field from the woods towards the river.’ He also points out that not all of these components are lexicalized at the sentence level as sentences with a complete motion representation are relatively rare in Polish. This is because quite a few motion components are implicated by the context. Polish motion verbs convey information about Manner, which Laskowski broadly defines in terms of intentionality, instrument (use of a vehicle or limbs), environment (water, air), speed, degree of contact with the surface, attitude and so on (Laskowski 1999; cf. Slobin 2006). Some verbs combine Manner and directionality of motion, that is, Path, e.g. biec ‘run’ and is´c´ ‘walk’ both imply continuous movement forward. Polish has very few verbs that express Path without simultaneously encoding Manner, e.g. przybyc´ ‘arrive’, wyruszyc´ ‘depart’, przemieszczac´ sie˛ ‘move from one place to another’, zbliz˙ac´ sie˛ ‘approach’, podąz˙ac´ ‘follow’, przedostac´ sie˛ ‘get through’, mijac´ ‘pass’, udac´ sie˛, wybrac´ sie˛ ‘make one’s way to’ and dotrzec´ ‘reach’. In accordance with Talmy (1985), Polish, being a satellite-framed language, encodes Path by means of a prefix. The prefix specifies the beginning and end of the trajectory, as well as the trajectory itself. It also entails the position of the speaker, expectancy of arrival, departure from the trajectory’s starting point and approach to the end point (Krucka 2006). Janowska (1999) assigns spatial prefixes to three categories depending on the relation of the Figure to the Ground. Adlative prefixes such as od-, wy-, z/s-, roz-, and u- specify the starting point of motion, be it the inside of an object (Ground), as in w-yjs´c´ z domu ‘leave home’, the object’s surface (z-ejs´c´ z drogi ‘get off the road’) or its boundary (od-płynąc´ od brzegu ‘sail/swim away from the shore’). Ablative prefixes: do-, na-, nad-, pod-, przy-, w-, za-, z/s- , denote the Figure’s proximity to the Ground, specifying the number of objects or individuals involved, as in z-jechały sie˛ tłumy ‘crowds arrived’, boundary crossing (w-szedł do pokoju ‘he entered the room’) and the exact point of contact (na-jechał na rower *‘he drove onto a bike’), along with the degree of proximity to the Ground (do-jechac´ vs. pod-jechac´, ‘reach the destination’ vs. ‘stop short of the destination’). Willim (2006) explains that in Polish, verbs referring to caused/directed motion and change of location events require a spatial prefix whenever the event in question involves the crossing of a location boundary, as in w-biec na scene˛ ‘to run onto the stage’. Change of location verbs that do not have a prefix obligatorily require a directional PP, as in u-dac´ sie do Paryz˙a ‘leave for Paris’ (Willim 2006: 218). Generally, spatial prefixes telicise events by delimiting their endpoints (see above). Consequently, the events have a perfective reading. The last of Janowska’s categories consists of perlative prefixes: prze- and o-. These signify the distance covered during a motion event, as in prze-płynąc´ rzeke˛ ‘swim across the river’. Quite uncharacteristically for satellites, in Polish, perlative relations may be expressed by an instrumental noun phrase. This typological idiosyncrasy is additionally illustrated by the following examples: szli drogą, s´ciez˙ką, lasem ‘they walked the road, path, *the woods’ (Nago´rko 1998). On the whole, Janowska’s (1999) analysis focuses on 18 spatial prefixes, which by

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virtue of their number and nuanced differences in meaning can yield great precision of description. The way prepositional phrases complement the wealth of detail provided by prefixation is discussed below. Generally, prefixed verbs of directed motion connote prepositional phrases where the preposition often echoes the prefix, e.g. dojechac´ do centrum miasta (Eng. to-come to the city centre) and wjechac´ w drzewo (Eng. in-drive in-to a tree). Sysak-Boron´ska (1974) stresses the functional interdependence of prepositions and case endings in the complement noun phrase, which she sees as exponents of spatial relations. Notably, case endings may determine the character of the entire phrase by introducing a contrast between a locative and adlative reading. This is shown in example (7) 7. Locative: Lez˙ec´ pod tramwajem (instrumental) ‘to be lying under a tram’, adlative: wpas´c´ pod tramwaj (accusative) ‘to fall under a tram’. In Polish, prepositional phrases can denote both bounded and unbounded events. There is disagreement over their syntactic status since Spencer and Zaretskaya (1998) see them as adjuncts while Willim (2006) argues that they function as verb complements, because they are obligatory in cases when a verb of motion does not have a prefix (see above). Most crucially, a goal/directional PP further qualifies the Path of the motion event and can even impose a change of location reading on a basic activity verb, as in Pchne˛li samocho´d na bok ‘They pushed the car to the side’ (Willim 2006: 214). The above evidence seems robust enough to warrant the conclusion that Polish lexicalization patterns of directed motion prioritize Path, which may be encoded throughout the predicate. A for Manner, it appears to be downgraded to the proverbial red herring, which despite being finely synchronized with Path and perceptually salient, semantically constitutes an addition to an otherwise complete account of a motion event. In a similar vein, Pourcel (2003) found that English users perceive the trajectory of motion rather than Manner as the defining feature. It may also be worth pointing out that in V-languages, too, Path information often exceeds that conveyed by the verb. This is illustrated by Riemer (2010: 402–403), who shows that Spanish (see examples (8a) and (8b)) does not restrict Path information to the verb but further qualifies it in the satellite, which may be indicative of a general prominence of Path in linguistic expressions of motion. 8. (a) La botella entro´ a la cueva (flotando) Eng. The bottle moved-in to the cave (floating) (b) El globo subio´ por la chimenea (flotando) Eng. The balloon moved-up through the chimney (floating). Finally, to put the current debate into perspective, let us consider the criticisms made by Cadiot et al. (2006), who drawing on data from French, dismissed the idea of using displacement as a principal semantic determinant of motion. The rationale behind their approach is that many of the allegedly typical motion verbs tend to be used in ways that have nothing to do with change of location. A case in point is the expression la route monte ‘the road goes up’, which does not imply any

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form of movement, or indeed, la photo est bien sortie ‘the photo came out well’, which likewise does not convey a hint of displacement. Moreover, preoccupation with physical components of motion overshadows the emotional, subjective and impressionistic dimensions of meaning that are intricately interwoven into semantic networks, and as such, reflect the complexity of human experience. Cadiot et al. argue that by abstracting displacement from a variety of uses of motion verbs, Talmy narrowed down his investigations to just one aspect of their meaning, which should not be treated as privileged or determinative (Riemer 2010). The question that arises from this critique is whether and to what extent a fragmentary portrayal of the semantics of motion verbs can reliably be used as an explanatory basis for research and the ongoing debate on whether and to what extent Talmy’s typology reflects the cognitive and linguistic operations of the (bilingual) mind. This is particularly relevant in view of the fact that it became a springboard for developments in linguistic relativity research, and consequently acquired considerable theory-generating potential (cf. Slobin’s (1996) thinking for speaking hypothesis).

7.4

The Bilingual Perspective

A logical consequence of investigating lexicalization patterns across a broad spectrum of languages is that the obtained data can be used as a benchmark for explaining aspects of SLA and bilingual speech. Seen from this perspective, L2 sentence construction appears to be influenced by the L1, which limits the learners’ choices primarily to those aspects of meaning that are encoded in L1 syntax. In referring to these processes, Slobin (1996: 89) aptly observes that the L1 trains its users to pay different kinds of attention to events and experiences when talking about them, to the extent that children as young as three consistently follow language-specific lexicalization patterns (Allen et al. 2007). What is more, such effects are exceptionally resistant to restructuring in adult second language acquisition (Slobin 1996: 89). The practical implication is that the L2 learner/user is set to habitually attend to and/or encode L1-based conceptualizations in the L2. Interestingly but not surprisingly, this does not preclude L2-induced restructuring of L1 patterns. As shown by Papafragou et al. (2008), who asked Greek and English subjects to verbally describe videoed motion events, the Greek speakers were equally likely to use either a Path or a Manner verb to describe telic scenes. The authors explain that one of contributing factors might have been advanced proficiency in L2 English, which sanctions such usage. A similar conclusion has been drawn by Brown and Gullberg (2008) who analyzed oral depictions of motion events by Japanese–English bilinguals. The evidence they collected bears marks of bidirectional L1–L2 transfer and convergence because the examined bilinguals used more Manner verbs in their L1 Japanese than Japanese monolinguals but fewer verbs of this type than English-only subjects. By the same token, in their L2 English there was less encoding of Manner than in the

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monolingual English group. Not surprisingly, gesture use in the bilingual group exhibited features of both L1 and L2. Hohenstein et al. (2006) report parallel tendencies with regard to the use of Path and Manner verbs in oral film retells by Spanish–English bilinguals. Other research further validates these tendencies. For example, Polish-French bilinguals tend to use an adjunct to double-code manner of movement, which violates logicality constraints in L1 Polish, as shown in example 9: 9. Doszedł do nas biegając (Eng. He walked up to us running). An exception to this trend is oral film retellings collected from late RussianEnglish bilinguals by Pavlenko (2010), who demonstrates that the L1 Russian motion lexicon is relatively resistant to cross-linguistic influence, and that of all the syntactic markers of motion, Path prefixation is the most stable. The few instances of L2-induced changes that Pavlenko found in her corpus included a preference for imperfective verbs and loss of a semantic distinction between walking, riding and driving, which manifested itself as the use of idti/walk, most likely by analogy to the English go. Another issue of interest, particularly in SLA contexts, is the semantic exponents of motion that L2 learners choose to lexicalize. Working along these lines, Cadierno and Lund (2004) hypothesize that, when learning an S-language, speakers of V-languages will avoid less frequent manner verbs, especially in referring to boundary-crossing situations, and will express manner in a separate unit. By contrast, S-language users will add manner information to sentences in a Vlanguage, and will fail to distinguish between boundary-crossing and non-boundarycrossing scenarios. They warn, however, that linguistic behavior will to some extent be linked to proficiency in a particular language. Finally, an issue well worth looking into is how speakers of a Slavic S-language, e.g. Polish, go about expressing directed motion in L2 English, also an S-language. Keeping in mind the differences in the way both encode Path, it is possible to form a number of hypotheses about the possible lexicalization patterns in L2 English. These run as follows: 10. Given the tendency of Polish to lexicalize Path throughout the predicate, Polish users of L2 English will prioritize Path at the expense of Manner verbs. This will manifest itself as a preference for Path-only verbs, a tendency reinforced by their frequent use in English. In fact, The Oxford 3000 Wordlist (www.oup. com) features most of the English Path-only words, as listed by Talmy (1985).1 11. Since Manner verbs, especially those conveying finer distinctions, are less common, they are also less likely to be acquired (Cadierno and Lund 2004) and/or used productively by L2 learners. Consequently, the learners will rely on the most frequent stock of Manner vocabulary and, if necessary, will attempt to express Manner by resorting to other parts of speech, such as adverbs.

1

Exceptions include: ascend, descend, cross (v), circle (v), depart, part (v) and near (v).

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12. Since Polish users of L2 English expect the verb to express at least some Path information, they will initially use deictic English Path verbs, such as come and go. This is because their semantic composition is broad enough to accommodate the nuanced meanings of Polish spatial prefixes. There will also be less pressure to encode spatial information in the prepositional phrase, by analogy to L1 Polish. As a result, Polish–English users will produce less elaborate and shorter Path PPs in L2 English. Despite their intuitive appeal, these hypotheses only intimate possible linguistic behavior and should not be interpreted as descriptions of definite trends. Indeed, with the benefit of hindsight, it seems more practical to adopt a data-driven approach to explicating these issues, rather than fall into the trap of overprediction, which for years blighted theory-oriented research into cross-linguistic influence. Finally, even though research in this area appears to be limited to a confined semantic field (but see Cadiot et al. 2006), its findings will find wide application in other domains, including syntax and stylistics. Given the challenges these present to L2 users, insights into their modus operandi may turn out to be yet another missing piece of the puzzle as to why it is so difficult to achieve native-like/ monolingual levels of L2 proficiency.

References ¨ zy€urek, S. Kita, A. Brown, R. Furman, T. Ishizuka and F. Mihoko. 2007. LanguageAllen, S., A. O specific and universal influences in children’s packaging of Manner and Path: A comparison of English, Japanese, and Turkish. Cognition 102: 16–48. Aske, Jon. 1989. Path predicates in English and Spanish: A closer look. In Proceedings of the Fifteenth Annual Meeting of the Berkeley Linguistics Society, eds. K. Hall, M. Meacham and R. Shapiro, 1–14. Berkeley, California: Berkeley Linguistics Society. Beavers, J., B. Levin and S.W. Tham. 2004. A morphosyntactic basis for variation in the encoding of motion events. Unpublished manuscript. http://comp.ling.utexas.edu/~jbeavers/publications. html. Accessed 10 July 2010. Beavers, J., B. Levin and S.W. Tham. 2010. The typology of motion expressions revisited. Linguistics 46: 331–377. Bojar, B. 1979. Opis semantyczny czasowniko´w ruchu oraz poje˛c´ związanych z ruchem. Warszawa: Wydawnictwo Uniwersytetu Warszawskiego. Brown, A. and M. Gullberg. 2008. Cross-linguistic influence in L1-L2 encoding of Manner in speech and gesture. A study of Japanese speakers of English. Studies in Second Language Acquisition 30: 225–251. Cadiot, P., F. Lebas and Y-M. Visetti. 2006. The semantics of motion verbs: Action, space, and qualia. In Space in languages, eds. M. Hickmann and S. Robert, 175–206. Amsterdam: Benjamins. Cadierno, T. and K. Lund. 2004. Cognitive linguistics and second language acquisition: Motion events in a typological framework. In Form-meaning connections in second language acquisition, eds. B. Van Patten, J. Williams, S. Rott and M. Overstreet, 139–153. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Fe´rez, P. C. 2007. Human locomotion verbs in English and Spanish. IJES 7: 117–136.

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Hohenstein, J., A. Eisenberg and L. Naigles. 2006. Is he floating across or crossing afloat? Crossinfluence of L1 and L2 in Spanish-English bilingual adults. Bilingualism: Language and Cognition 9: 249–261. Jackendoff, R. 1990. Semantic structures. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Janowska, A. 1999. Funkcje przestrzenne przedrostko´w czasownikowych w polszczyz´nie. Katowice: Wydawnictwo Uniwersytetu S´ląskiego. Jarvis, S. and A. Pavlenko. 2008. Crosslinguistic influence in language and cognition. New York and London: Routledge. Kopecka, A. 2006.The semantic structure of motion verbs in French: Typological perspectives. In Space in languages, eds. M. Hickmann and S. Robert, 83–101. Amsterdam: Benjamins. Krucka, B. 2006. Kontrasty polsko-rosyjskie w zakresie morfologii a zjawiska interferencji. ŁaskWarszawa: Oficyna Wydawnicza LEKSEM. Kubiszyn-Me˛drala, Z. Polskie bezprzedrostkowe czasowniki ruchu w perspektywie kognitywnej. Unpublished manuscript. http://celta.paris-sorbonne.fr/anasem/papers/Motion/CzasRuch.pdf. Accessed 23 May 2008. Lakoff, G. 1987. Women, fire and dangerous things: What categories reveal about the mind. Chicago: Chicago University Press. Laskowski, R. 1999. Czasowniki ruchu liniowego (czasowniki przemieszczania) w pespektywie kontrastywnej. In Semantyka a konfrontacja je˛zykowa, eds. Z. Gren´ and V. Koseska-Toszewa, 49–58. Warszawa: Slawistyczny Os´rodek Wydawniczy. Malt, B. C., S. P. Gennari and M. Imai. 2010. Lexicalization patterns and the world-to-words mapping. In Words and the mind: How words encode human experience. eds. B. C. Malt and P. Wolff, 29–57. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Nago´rko, A. 1998. Zarys gramatyki polskiej. Warszawa: PWN. Ohara. K. M. Manner of motion in Japanese and English. Unpublished manuscript. Papafragou, A., J. Hulbert and J. Trueswell. 2008. Does language guide perception ? Evidence from eye movements. Cognition 108: 155–184. Papafragou, A. and S. Selimis. 2010. Event categorization and language: A cross-linguistic study of motion. Language and cognitive processes 25: 224–260. Pavlenko, A. 2010. Verbs of motion in L1 Russian of Russian-English bilinguals. Bilingualism: Language and Cognition 13: 49–62. Pourcel, S. 2003. Linguistic relativity and motion events in English. Durham working papers in linguistics 9: 53–67. Pourcel, S. and A. Kopecka. 2005. Motion expression in French: typological diversity. Durham & Newcastle working papers in linguistics 11: 139–153. Riemer, N. 2010. Introducing semantics. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Slobin, D. I. 1996. From “thought and language” to “thinking for speaking”. In Rethinking linguistic relativity, eds. J. J. Gumperz, and S. C. Levinson, 70–96. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Slobin, D. I. 2003. Language and thought on line: Cognitive consequences of linguistic relativity. In Language and mind. Advances in the study of language and thought, eds. D. Gentner and S. Goldin-Meadow, 157–192. Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press. Slobin, D. I. 2004. The many ways to search for a frog: Linguistic typology and the expression of motion events. In Relating events in narrative: Vol. 2. Typological and contextual perspectives, eds. S. Str€ omqvist and L. Verhoeven, 219–257. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum. Slobin, D. I. 2005. Linguistic representations of motion events: What is signifier and what is signified? In Iconicity inside out: Iconicity in language and literature 4, eds. C. Maeder, O. Fischer and W. Herlofsky, 307–260. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins. Slobin, D. I. 2006. What makes manner of motion salient? Explorations in linguistic typology, discourse, and cognition. In Linguistic systems and cognitive categories, eds. M. Hickmann and S. Robert, 59–81. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins. Spencer, A. and M. D. Zaretskaya. 1998. Verb prefixation in Russian as lexical subordination. Linguistics 36: 1–39.

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Sysak-Boron´ska, M. G. 1974. Some remarks on the spatio-relative system in English and Polish. Poznan studies in contemporary linguistics 3: 185–208. Talmy, L. 1985. Lexicalization patterns: Semantic structure in lexical forms. In Language typology and syntactic description. Volume III: Grammatical categories and the lexicon, ed. T. Shopen, 57–149. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Talmy, L. 2000. Toward a cognitive semantics: Vol. I. Concept structuring systems. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Talmy, L. 2003. Toward a cognitive semantics: Vol. II. Typology and process in concept structuring. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. The Oxford 3000 Wordlist. http://www.oup.com/elt/catalogue/teachersites/oald7/oxford_3000/ oxford_3000_list?view¼Print&cc¼global. Accessed 10 June 2010. Tsujimura, N. 2007. An introduction to Japanese linguistics. Oxford: Blackwell. Willim, E. 2006. Event individuation and countability. A study with special reference to English and Polish. Krako´w: Jagiellonian University Press.

Chapter 8

On the Interplay Between Prepositional Categories. The Case of the Polish od–do Construction Daria Be˛beniec

Abstract The Polish prepositions od and do, being opposite in terms of their spatio-geometric and functional content, display a significant degree of compatibility and thus tend to co-occur in a number of different contexts. As a result, the two prepositions appear to have developed a number of joint meanings, and the aim of the present article is to account for their motivated character by means of one of the recent cognitive linguistic methodologies, the Principled Polysemy model (Tyler and Evans 2003). Specifically, it is argued that the od–do construction constitutes a polysemous category, which consists of several distinguishable yet interrelated meanings. It is posited that the central spatial meanings of the prepositions od and do, taken together, form the basis for the remaining extended senses, the majority of which cannot be predicted from the individual prepositional networks.

8.1

Introduction

The Polish prepositions od and do apparently constitute each other’s polar opposites.1 In spatial terms, the former encodes the trajector’s orientation away from the landmark and the latter – the trajector’s orientation towards the landmark. From a functional perspective, the landmark of od constitutes the trajector’s source, whereas in the case of do it corresponds to the trajector’s goal.2 The symmetry between the two prepositions extends well beyond the spatial primary meanings, as

1 The present paper is based on my dissertation devoted to the semantics of directional prepositions, including Polish od and do (Be˛beniec 2010). 2 For a discussion of the prefixal counterparts of the two prepositions, see for example Dąbrowska (1996), Suchostawska (2005) and Przybylska (2006).

D. Be˛beniec (*) Maria Curie-Skłodowska University, Lublin, Poland e-mail: [email protected] M. Pawlak and J. Bielak (eds.), New Perspectives in Language, Discourse and Translation Studies, Second Language Learning and Teaching, DOI 10.1007/978-3-642-20083-0_8, # Springer-Verlag Berlin Heidelberg 2011

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od and do have also developed several opposite senses. For example, while od is used to refer to distance, detachment, distinction and subtraction, do is frequently employed in the contexts pertaining to proximity, attachment, similarity and addition.3 In consequence, the two prepositions exhibit a substantial degree of compatibility, which has in turn resulted in a number of joint instantiations, such as for instance examples (1)–(10) below. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10.

Od Annasza do Kajfasza ‘from pillar to post’ Od Sasa do Lasa ‘~as different as chalk and cheese’ Od łyczka do rzemyczka ‘~one thing leads to another’ Od ucha do ucha ‘from ear to ear’ Od czasu do czasu ‘from time to time’ Od go´ry do dołu ‘from top to bottom’ Od deski do deski ‘from cover to cover’ Od początku do kon´ca ‘from start to finish’ Od sto´p do gło´w ‘from head to toe’ Od szczego´łu do ogo´łu ‘from the specific to the general’

In view of this, the aim of the present paper is to account for the status of the afore-mentioned instances by means of one of the recent cognitive linguistic methodologies, the Principled Polysemy model (e.g. Tyler and Evans 2001, 2003; Evans and Tyler 2004a, 2004b).4 It will specifically be argued that that the Polish od–do construction constitutes a higher-order polysemous category,5 whose emergence might primarily be attributed to the frequent interaction between the prepositions od and do.6 First, the central spatial senses of the two prepositions will be taken as the point of departure for the category proposed, and these meanings will be treated as a kind of joint primary sense motivating the remaining 3

The following are but a few examples: Mieszkamy daleko od centrum miasta ‘We live a long way from the city centre’, Ma blisko do pracy, ale ciągle sie˛ spo´z´nia ‘He lives close to his workplace, but he is always late’, Ta sukienka mocno przylega do ciała ‘The dress is a tight fit’ and Nie mo´gł oderwac´ sie˛ od ksiąz˙ki ‘He could not tear himself away from the book’. 4 Among the hallmarks of the Principled Polysemy framework one could enumerate the construct of a proto-scene, which is a schematic representation of a spatial relation and consists of spatiogeometric and functional content, and principled criteria for isolating the central prepositional meaning and distinguishing conventionalized senses from contextual uses. For a detailed exposition of the assumptions of Principled Polysemy see Tyler and Evans (2003). 5 In Construction Grammar e.g. Fillmore 1988; Kay and Fillmore 1999; Croft 2001; Goldberg 1995, 2006), constructions are taken to be such pairings of form and meaning whose semantic and syntactic properties are not predictable from the properties of the relevant constituent parts. For an account of constructional polysemy, as exemplified by the English ditransitive and caused-motion constructions, see for instance Goldberg (1995). In Goldberg’s terms, polysemy, along with metaphorical extension, subsumption and instance, constitutes one type of inheritance links motivating the systematic relationships among constructions. 6 In other words, since the central spatial senses of the prepositions od and do respectively encode the starting point and end point of the trajector’s potential relocation, which, in dynamic contexts, constitute crucial components of a motion event, it is only natural that there should exist cases where the two components are given explicit realization.

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members of the od–do construction. Further, the isolated groups of contexts will be considered as akin to distinct senses, which are modelled into the semantic network in its own right. Even though some of the meanings can still be predicted from the individual prepositional categories, it will be argued that quite a number of others must have emerged as a result of the afore-mentioned interplay between the two prepositions.7

8.2

The Central Sense

The central meaning of the od–do construction is motivated by the central spatial manifestations of each of the two prepositions.8 The trajector’s (¼TR’s) location is specified relative to two landmarks (¼LMs), which occupy two different positions in space (see Fig. 8.1). The following examples instantiate the central meaning of od and do, depicting the TR’s movement between two different LMs, which respectively correspond to the starting point and end point of the TR’s relocation. 11. Od Łodzi do Torunia jechali pociągiem. ‘They went by train from Ło´dz´ to Torun´.’ 12. Dziewczynka pobiegła od mamy do taty. ‘The girl ran from her mother to her father.’ 13. Od kuzynki pojechałam do sklepu. ‘From my cousin’s I went to the store.’ 14. Skakac´ od jednej latarni do drugiej ‘to jump from one lamp post to another’ 15. Pobiec od drzewa do drzewa ‘to run from one tree to another’ It should be noted that the present meaning does not seem to be represented by purely orientational examples associated with some of the uses of the primary

LM1

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LM2

Fig. 8.1 The proto-scene for the od–do construction

7

Put differently, sometimes we can speak of a less conventionalized association of senses than in other instances, yet for the sake of the completeness of the picture all these cases will be included in the discussion. 8 In addition, there is also the od–do phrase, which has begun to function as a unit, especially in informal language (e.g. pracowac´ w godzinach od–do ‘to have fixed hours of work’, limit od–do ‘a fixed limit’, and Stowarzyszenie OD-DO ‘The TO-FROM Association’).

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senses of the individual prepositions,9 which is not surprising inasmuch as the compatibility between od and do follows from the fact that each of them encodes one essential component of a motion event. Furthermore, owing to the character of the TR-LM relation in the case of od, the central meaning of the od-do construction does not cover cases in which the TR’s route starts within a particular LM, which in examples such as (11) gives rise to the interpretation involving some spatial segment of a larger path extending beyond both the starting point provided by the od-phrase and the end point supplied by the LM of do. Symmetrical as the two prepositions are, it appears that do more readily than od participates in such readings where the TR is at some stage in contact with the inside of the LM. In this respect, od competes with the preposition z(e), and itself admits the TR’s relocation from the confines of the LM only in instantiations involving the PERSON FOR PLACE metonymy, such as (13) above.10

8.3 8.3.1

Other Meanings The Spatial Repetitive Sense

The first of the extended meanings, labelled as the Spatial Repetitive Sense, seems to be related to such instantiations of the central meaning in which the implicature of repetitiveness is detectable, as for example in (14) and (15) above. Recurrence is especially manifested in the contexts in which the TR moves from one entity to another (as well as from entity to entity, to capture the characteristics of form), with the two entities corresponding to two or more distinct tokens of the same type (see Fig. 8.2 below). Besides, the contribution of imperfective verbs is also not insignificant, the more so as it seems to be the concomitant of the present meaning. The instantiations representing the Spatial Repetitive Sense, quoted below, display varied degrees of spatiality, which is especially visible in examples (18), (19) and (20). 16. chodzic´ od wsi do wsi/od sklepu do sklepu/od wystawy do wystawy ‘to go from village to village/from shop to shop/from one exhibition to another’11 17. Listonosz chodził od domu do domu/od drzwi do drzwi. ‘The postman walked from house to house/from door to door.’ 9

A relation of orientation is exemplified for instance by the sentence Stał odwro´cony tyłem od/do widowni ‘He stood with his back towards the audience’. 10 It thus appears that the contexts of the prepositions od and z(e) highlight different aspects in the semantics of do, which could respectively be rendered as a boundary and a goal (cf. jechac´ od Łodzi do Torunia and jechac´ z Łodzi do Torunia ‘to go from Ło´dz´ to Torun´’). Notice that in English, due to the broader scope of the preposition from, such nuances are generally lost, or rather they are retrievable from the general context of the utterance rather than the relevant prepositional meaning. 11 A similar meaning could be expressed by the preposition po followed by a plural noun, e.g. chodzic´ po domach/po sklepach/po wystawach ‘to go to different houses/shops/exhibitions’. As noted by Przybylska (2002: 465, 467), po is used to refer to situations where the TR moves from one container-like entity to another, or from one person to another, and the LM constitutes a collection of containers or persons.

8 On the Interplay Between Prepositional Categories Fig. 8.2 The implicature of repetitiveness

LM

LM

107

TR

...

TR

18. Byc´ odsyłanym od Annasza do Kajfasza ‘to be driven from pillar to post’12 19. Tułał sie˛ od pracy do pracy. ‘He wandered from job to job.’ 20. Przez wiele lat poniewierała sie˛ od krewnych do krewnych. ‘She wandered from relatives to relatives for many years.’

8.3.2

The Spatial Limitative Sense

In another spatial meaning, instead of the TR’s relocation from one point to another we can observe the notion of a path stretching between two positions in space or between two spatial limits. The Spatial Limitative Sense is thus compatible with the information retrievable from the central spatial meaning of the current network, which supplies the starting point and end point of the TR’s relocation.13 However, path, as used here, is no longer part of any motion event, but it corresponds to a certain demarcated region where a specific state or state of affairs prevails or where a particular activity is performed. As the following examples demonstrate, motion, if at all present, is of a fictive nature.14 21. Motoro´wki patrolowały Wisłe˛ od Warszawy do Płocka. ‘Motor boats patrolled the Vistula from Warsaw do Płock.’ 22. S´ciez˙ka była zagrabiona od jednej ambony do drugiej. ‘The path was raked from one hide to another.’ 23. Wiedzą o tym od USA do Sri Lanki. ‘They know about it from the US to Sri Lanka.’ 12

This example makes reference to some historical events, when Jesus was arrested and taken first to the high priest Annas and then to his son-in-law Caiaphas to stand trial before the Sanhedrin prior to his Crucifixion. The English translation, in turn, most probably refers to the ancient game of real tennis involving both pillars and posts, though its etymology is a matter of dispute. Interestingly, the German equivalent of the phrase is “von Pontius zu Pilatus” (from Pontius to Pilate), which in yet another way conveys the futility of somebody’s actions. 13 According to Tyler and Evans (2003: 217–218), the concept of path presupposes the connection between the locational source and the locational goal. 14 See for example Talmy (2000).

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24. Łąka ciągnie sie˛ od jeziora az˙ do lasu. ‘The meadow stretches from the lake to the forest.’ 25. Us´miechac´ sie˛/ziewac´ od ucha do ucha ‘to smile/yawn from ear to ear’ 26. Te spodnie są proste od go´ry do dołu. ‘These trousers are straight from top to bottom.’

8.3.3

The Spatial Holistic Sense

As can be observed from, say, examples (25) and (26) above, the spatial extent provided may pertain to the whole of a particular entity, especially when it refers to some salient outermost parts of the entity concerned. Such instantiations, in which a given spatial region could not be extended any further, appear to constitute a bridging context for the Spatial Holistic Sense, where the holistic interpretation predominates over the notion of spatial extent. The main focus of the present meaning is on the accuracy or wide scope of a particular action or state, rather than on its spatial limits. 27. Przeszukali go od go´ry do dołu. ‘They searched him from top to bottom.’ 28. Wczoraj umyłam kuchnie˛ od go´ry do dołu. ‘Yesterday I cleaned the kitchen from top to bottom.’15 29. Zamierzamy wyremontowac´ mieszkanie od go´ry do dołu. ‘We are planning to redecorate our home from top to bottom.’ 30. Przeczytalis´my ten przewodnik od deski do deski. ‘We read this guide from cover to cover.’ 31. Od sto´p do gło´w była ubrana na niebiesko. ‘She was dressed from head to toe in blue.’ 32. Ten film jest przebojem od jednego kran´ca s´wiata do drugiego. ‘The film is a smash hit all over the world.’

8.3.4

The Limitative Sense

The Limitative Sense, for its part, is basically predictable from the limitative senses of the prepositions od and do and as such, it appears to belong to less conventionalized senses in the semantic network of the od–do construction. Here, the TR fluctuates between the two values provided by appropriate LMs, and these values are typically ranked in ascending order, with the od-phrase and do-phrase respectively providing the lowest and highest possible amount or quantity.16 Since 15

Notice that the action of cleaning is not necessarily performed from one end to another or in the vertical direction suggested by the choice and order of the LMs. 16 Since both LMs, taken together, determine the scope of the TR, which is to say that the TR is described with reference to a certain closed set of possible values, it is also conceivable that the

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the TR may also assume some intermediate values (i.e. the ones positioned anywhere in the region demarcated by the LMs), the present meaning can also be used to express ballpark estimates, as visible in example (37) below. 33. Wez´ od 2 do 4 jabłek. ‘Take from 2 to 4 apples.’ 34. Me˛z˙czyz´ni w wieku od 15 do 40 lat ‘men aged from fifteen to forty’ 35. Ceny pralek wahają sie˛ od 1,000 do 5,000 złotych. ‘The prices of washing machines range from 1,000 to 5,000 zloty.’ 36. Ste˛z˙enia niebezpiecznych substancji były od 10 do 300 razy wyz˙sze od dopuszczalnych. ‘The concentrations of dangerous substances were from 10 to 300 times higher than permitted.’ 37. Mo´gł miec´ od 20 do 25 lat. ‘He could be 20–25 years old.’

8.3.5

The Range Sense

The Range Sense is apparently motivated by such contexts of the previous limitative meaning in which the quantitative distance between two relevant LMs is so significant that it produces an implicature of a multitude of alternatives that could be adopted by the TR.17 The present meaning thus encompasses instantiations where the TR ranges widely between the two LMs, which are in turn not necessarily selected for the purpose of stating some limits, but rather with a view to highlighting diversity.

reverse ordering will be used, as for example in Ceny pralek wahają sie˛ od 5,000 do 1,000 złotych ‘The prices of washing machines range from 5,000 to 1,000 zloty’. Admittedly, such an arrangement appears somewhat marked in comparison with examples such as (35) above. Moreover, part of the present meaning might also be instantiations that indicate the internal organization or ordering of the TR, such as for example the following: od najmniejszego do najwie˛kszego ‘from the smallest to the biggest’, idiomy od A do Z ‘idioms from A to Z’ and zestaw witamin i minerało´w od A do Z ‘a combination of vitamins and minerals from A to Z’. The last two examples, on account of the character of the LMs, additionally give rise to a holistic, though non-spatial, interpretation, and as such, they could also be classified as instantiations of the subsequent meaning (i.e. the Range Sense). 17 As far as the present meaning is concerned, it should be observed that it competes with the od-po construction (cf. Moz˙na tu kupic´ wszystko – od ubran´ po kosmetyki ‘You can buy anything here from clothes to cosmetics’). Other possibilities for expressing diversity encompass the following lexicalized expressions: zaczynając od – kon´cząc na (e.g. ro´z˙ne gatunki literackie, zaczynając od wierszy dla dzieci a na powies´ciach kon´cząc ‘various genres, ranging from children’s verse to novels’) and począwszy od – poprzez – (az˙) po (e.g. Sklepy pełne są upominko´w z Harrym Potterem, począwszy od breloczko´w, naszyjniko´w, poprzez kubki, kielichy, az˙ po miotły ‘Shops are full of Harry Potter souvenirs, ranging from key rings and necklaces through mugs and goblets to besoms’). As noted by Przybylska (2002: 484–485), the prepositions od and po also co-occur in spatial contexts, in which case the TR of po is conceptualized as a surface extending in many directions towards the LM which constitutes a linear boundary, as in one of Przybylska’s examples, Nizina Polska ciągnie sie˛ od Odry po Bug ‘The Polish Lowlands stretch from the Oder to the Bug’.

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Besides, the LMs are characterized by homogeneity in that they are comprised by a single domain or some other coherent subset of experience.18 38. Ich okazałe kwiaty mają ro´z˙ne barwy, od czystej bieli przez wszystkie odcienie ro´z˙u do ciemnej czerwieni. ‘Their splendid flowers vary in colour from pure white through various pinks to dark red.’ 39. Nasz zespo´ł zajmuje sie˛ wszystkim – od pisania do składu komputerowego. ‘Our team does everything – from writing to computer typesetting.’ 40. Członkowie tej partii wywodzą sie˛ z ro´z˙nych s´rodowisk, od Sasa do Lasa. ‘The members of this party are drawn from various backgrounds, as different as chalk and cheese.’19 41. “Od buta Gortata do opaski Podolskiego” ‘“From Gortat’s shoe to Podolski’s armband”’20 42. “Od akordeonu do zasmaz˙ki” ‘“From an accordion to a roux”’21

8.3.6

The Temporal Sense

The Temporal Sense of the od–do construction is derivable from the respective temporal meanings of the two prepositions. It expresses duration of an action, state or event, delimited by two points in time which indicate the beginning and end of a particular action. The time period encoded by od in tandem with do may be grounded in the future, present or past. Moreover, the instantiations of the Temporal Sense are less dependent on the moment of speaking than is the case with the temporal meanings of the individual prepositions, where the moment of speaking often indicates either the beginning or end of duration (that is, the other reference point not encoded by the preposition in question).22 43. Od marca do maja be˛de˛ za granicą. ‘I will be abroad from March to May.’ 44. Zaje˛cia trwają od piątkowego wieczoru do pory obiadowej w niedziele˛. ‘The classes last from Friday evening to Sunday lunchtime.’ 18

As can be observed in example (42), however, the LMs that do not typically belong to a common category can be combined for humorous effect. 19 It appears that the primary motivation for this example is no longer active, as it was derived from the political situation in Poland in the first half of the eighteenth century, when the Polish nobility at one time supported Augustus II Strong in his claims to the throne, only to turn to Stanisław Leszczyn´ski soon afterwards. If so, the original meaning of the phrase probably expressed vacillation between two different options or states, and as such, it would be classified as an instance of the Change-of-state Sense discussed below. 20 This example is the title of an Internet article describing how scores of sportspeople paid tribute to the victims of the plane crash in Smolen´sk on 10 April 2010 (retrieved 12 April 2010, from http://www.tvn24.pl/). 21 The title of one of the albums recorded by the Polish cabaret band “Otto”. 22 Cf. Czekam na ciebie od godziny ‘I’ve been waiting for you for an hour’ and Masz jeszcze duz˙o czasu do wyste˛pu ‘You have plenty of time before you performance’.

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45. Jej mąz˙ był brytyjskim ambasadorem w Grecji od 1998 do 2001. ‘Her husband was the British ambassador to Greece from 1998 to 2001.’ Moreover, some temporal phrases tend to highlight the holistic view of a particular event, especially when they refer to the natural beginning and end of this event (or of one of its fundamental parts). By extension, some of these phrases are used to express the entirety of a given state or situation, as in examples (48) and (49) below. 46. Koncert był pasjonujący od pierwszej do ostatniej nuty. ‘The concert was thrilling from the first to the last note.’ 47. Obejrzec´ film od początku do kon´ca ‘to see a film from beginning to end’ 48. Byc´ uczciwym od początku do kon´ca ‘to be honest from start to finish’ 49. Byc´ druz˙yną od początku do kon´ca ‘to be a team from start to finish’23 Consider also the following example, where the duration of an event is delimited by spatial rather than temporal LMs. 50. Spała od Warszawy az˙ do Gdyni. ‘She slept from Warsaw to Gdynia.’24 Furthermore, as indicated by (51) below, the Temporal Sense has a repetitive variant, which may be motivated by the shift in focus from duration delimited on both ends just to those two salient points. 51. Od czasu do czasu/od przypadku do przypadku/od wypadku do wypadku/od okazji do okazji ‘from time to time’25 Finally, in the contexts where the LMs are conceptualized as time periods rather than points in time, the temporal meaning of the od–do construction acquires a limitative interpretation, and, just as the Limitative Sense discussed above, it can also be used to express approximate values, as in the example below. 52. Czas oczekiwania wynosi od 2 dni do 2 tygodni. ‘The waiting time is from 2 days to a fortnight.’

23

Admittedly, it may also be the case that these examples omit to mention a background event whose duration determines the overall temporal extent of a state or situation evoked, e.g. Musimy byc´ druz˙yną od początku do kon´ca mistrzostw ‘We have to be a team from the beginning of the championship to the end’. Nevertheless, the attested productivity of the phrase od początku do kon´ca indicates that it is approaching unit status. 24 Langacker (2008: 74–75), discussing a similar spatio-temporal example, i.e. She’s been asleep for thirty miles, asserts that it could be explained by reference to the viewer’s motion, which itself constitutes a modification of the canonical (stative) viewing arrangement. 25 Consider also the sentences Z˙yli od wypłaty do wypłaty/od cudu do cudu ‘They lived from hand to mouth/from one miracle to another’, which perhaps do not express frequency as such, but they still refer to the repetitiveness of an event of a particular type, marking an important stage in another event (in this case, one’s existence). So the focus here, just as in the phrase od czasu do czasu ‘from time to time’, is on the salient points and not on the duration of an event taking place in between these temporal points.

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D. Be˛beniec

The Change-of-State Sense

The Change-of-State Sense appears to be motivated by such instantiations of the central meaning in which the TR moves from one entity to another, and thus, given the experiential correlation between states and locations, may easily be exposed to a particular state or circumstances associated with a particular LM. The presence of two LMs in the region of the TR’s relocation, in turn, is likely to create an implicature of the TR’s transition from one state to another. For instance, the following quasi-spatial sentences present conceptual proximity and distance obtaining between two states rather than between representations of spatial entities. 53. Od miłos´ci blisko jest do nienawis´ci. ‘There is a thin line between love and hate.’ 54. Od pomysłu do realizacji jest długa droga. ‘It is a long way from an idea to its implementation.’ Some other instances associated with the present meaning are presented below. Notice that in some cases the order of the LMs appears to be more motivated, as in (56) and (57). In other cases, such as for example in (55), the reversal of the LMs would not result in any significant meaning variation.26 55. Cierpiał na hus´tawki nastrojo´w – od euforii do przygne˛bienia. ‘His emotions see-sawed from euphoria to dejection.’ 56. Od szczego´łu do ogo´łu/od ogo´łu do szczego´łu. ‘from the specific to the general / from the general to the specific’ 57. Od nowicjusza do eksperta ‘from novice to expert’ 58. Najwyz˙szy czas przejs´c´ od sło´w do czyno´w. ‘It’s high time to put words into actions.’

8.3.8

The Progression Sense

The Progression Sense, apparently related to the previous meaning, expresses a transition from one state to another. There is a causal connection between the two relevant states, and together they amount to or precipitate yet another state or event. Alternatively, it may be the case that the states at issue represent a certain qualitative progression or accumulative sequence, as a result of which (and as part of the ordinary course of events) a particular final state, not necessarily a positive one, is reached. 26

The present meaning also seems to be very productive, as it often occurs in article titles, book titles, conference session titles and headlines. Among the recently encountered instantiations there are for example the following: od cukru do octu ‘from sugar to vinegar’, od ros´liny do leku naturalnego ‘from a plant to a natural drug’, od biletu do cywila ‘from a ticket to civvy street’, od bezradnos´ci do bezpieczen´stwa ‘from helplessness to safety’, od stresu do pewnos´ci siebie ‘from stress to self-confidence’ and od chaosu do porządku ‘from chaos to order’.

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59. Od słowa do słowa – i pokło´cili sie˛. ‘One thing led to another and they had a fight.’ 60. I tak, od łyczka do rzemyczka, powoli zaczął sie˛ ich romans. ‘And so, one thing led to another and their affair began.’27

8.4

The Semantic Network of the od–do Construction

Overall, as presented in Fig. 8.3 below, the semantic network of the od–do construction consists of the central meaning and as many as eight distinguishable senses.

Fig. 8.3 The semantic network for the od–do construction

8.5

Concluding Remarks

To conclude, it seems plausible to claim that the od–do construction constitutes a distinct polysemous category including several interrelated meanings. As such, the od–do construction displays both intra- and inter-categorial fuzziness. Firstly, the senses discussed are on the one hand distinguishable, and on the other, they form 27

This example is part of a larger proverb, saying that starting from misdemeanours, one may easily get involved in serious offences and end up being hanged in consequence (cf. Od łyczka do rzemyczka, od rzemyczka do koniczka – be˛dzie szubieniczka).

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a continuum of uses, which pertains not only to the pairs of meanings in which one sense is claimed to motivate the other, but can also be discerned in the similar implicatures that arise even when the relevant senses do not seem to be directly related (as is the case with the limitative, repetitive and holistic variants emerging in a number of different meanings). Secondly, the whole constructional network competes at various points with other ablative and adlative prepositional constructions, such as the following: • The z-do construction (e.g. Inflacja spadła z 10 do 8 procent ‘Inflation went down from 10 to 8%’, Z dalekiej podro´z˙y do własnych kąto´w ‘From a long journey to one’s own place’)28 • The z-w construction (e.g. wpadac´ z jednego dołka w drugi ‘to fall from one hole into another’) • The z-na construction (e.g. zbiegac´ z go´rki na pazurki ‘to hurtle helter-skelter down the hill’, z go´ry na do´ł ‘from top to bottom’, z dnia na dzien´ ‘from day to day’, Dobry tancerz chodzi z wesela na wesele ‘He who dances well goes from one wedding reception to another’)29 • The od-po construction (e.g. od morza po go´ry ‘from the sea to the mountains’) • The od-na construction (e.g. od wschodu na zacho´d ‘from the east to the west’) • The od-ku construction (e.g. od dołu ku go´rze ‘from the bottom to the top’) • The z-ku construction (e.g. z niemocy ku sprawnos´ci ‘from powerlessness to effectiveness’) Furthermore, it should be noted that even though some of the members of the od–do construction do not appear to be fully conventionalized, since for example the central meaning can be predicted on the basis of the individual semantic networks of the prepositions od and do, their role for the category at issue can hardly be neglected. Without positing the primary spatial meaning, for instance, it would not be possible to account for the motivated character of a number of extended senses. As far as the remaining meanings of this kind are concerned, recall that the Limitative Sense seems to have contributed to the emergence of another distinct meaning and the Temporal Sense includes several variants, none of which could be explained without positing the two meanings in the semantic network of under discussion. Finally, since the foregoing analysis draws on the study of the category of directional prepositions, it hopefully testifies to the benefits of analyzing prepositional categories displaying some common patterns. Specifically, the juxtaposition of prepositions that encode either similar or opposite spatio-configurational and functional content may contribute to the emergence of some distinctive characteristics that could not be brought to the fore unless embedded in a larger context. 28

The title of some rehabilitation programme for Children of Alcoholics, encountered 15 April 2010 at http://www.od-do.org/. 29 This example is a translation of the Spanish proverb “Quien bien bayla, de boda en boda se anda”.

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References Be˛beniec, D. 2010. Directional prepositions in Polish and English. Towards a cognitive account. Unpublished PhD dissertation, Maria Curie-Skłodowska University, Lublin. Croft, W. 2001. Radical construction grammar. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Dąbrowska, E. 1996. The spatial structuring of events: A study of Polish perfectivizing prefixes. In The construal of space in language and thought, eds. M. P€utz and R. Dirven, 467–490. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Evans, V. and A. Tyler. 2004a. Rethinking English ‘prepositions of movement’: The case of to and through. In Adpositions of movement, eds. H. Cuyckens, W. de Mulder and T. Mortelmans, 247–270. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Evans, V. and A. Tyler. 2004b. Spatial experience, lexical structure and motivation: The case of in. In Studies in linguistic motivation, eds. G. Radden and K. Panther, 157–192. Berlin/New York: Mouton de Gruyter. Fillmore, Ch. 1988. The mechanisms of construction grammar. Proceedings of the Berkeley Linguistic Society 14: 35–55. Goldberg, A. 1995. Constructions: A construction grammar approach to argument structure. Chicago: Chicago University Press. Goldberg, A. 2006. Constructions at work: The nature of generalization in language. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Kay, P. and Ch. Fillmore. 1999. Grammatical constructions and linguistic generalizations: The What’s X doing Y construction. Language 75: 1–34. Langacker, R. 2008. Cognitive grammar: A basic introduction. New York: Oxford University Press. Przybylska, R. 2002. Polisemia przyimko´w polskich w s´wietle gramatyki kognitywnej. Krako´w: Universitas. Przybylska, R. 2006. Schematy wyobraz˙eniowe a semantyka polskich prefikso´w czasownikowych do-, od-, prze-, roz-, u-. Krako´w: Universitas. Suchostawska, L. 2005. Space and metaphor: Polish verbal prefixes expressing the relations INTO-OUT OF and TO-AWAY FROM. Wrocław: Oficyna Wydawnicza Politechniki Wrocławskiej. Talmy, L. 2000. Toward a cognitive semantics. Vol. 1: Concept structuring systems. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Tyler, A. and V. Evans. 2003. The semantics of English prepositions: Spatial scenes, embodied meaning and cognition. Cambridge/New York: Cambridge University Press. Tyler, A. and V. Evans. 2001. Reconsidering prepositional polysemy networks: The case of over. Language 77: 724–765.

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Chapter 9

Governed Prepositions in English: A Corpus-Based Study Jerzy Gaszewski

Abstract The paper is a corpus-based analysis of English governed prepositions, which are, due to their considerable frequency, an important part of English grammar. It starts with a discussion of the concept of government, its different applications in linguistics and confusion it often creates. Government is a syntactic relation in which one constituent determines the grammatical form of its dependent. It also has a semantic side to it – the grammatical marking resulting from government denotes the relational meaning of the dependent in the context of the given head word. The paper presents and discusses results of a series of corpus case studies. Each case study examined a grammatical pattern (a head word with a dependent preposition) against a sample of occurrences of the head from the British National Corpus. Detailed analysis of the results aimed to decide whether the given pattern involves government. A general objective was to identify quantitative and qualitative characteristics of government (and nongovernment). From the empirical perspective of language corpora, government seems to be best envisaged as a gradable phenomenon. While all case studies showed considerable variation in the observed patterns of the head word, much of it is explicable by syntactic, pragmatic or stylistic considerations and does not contradict government. However, some of the tested patterns were judged to be non-governed. These involved inter alia the tested pattern being part of an antonym set or contextual synonym set.

The research has been financed from the budget funds for science in the years 2010–2012 as a research project. J. Gaszewski (*) University of Ło´dz´, Ło´dz´, Poland e-mail: [email protected] M. Pawlak and J. Bielak (eds.), New Perspectives in Language, Discourse and Translation Studies, Second Language Learning and Teaching, DOI 10.1007/978-3-642-20083-0_9, # Springer-Verlag Berlin Heidelberg 2011

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J. Gaszewski

Introduction

The present paper reports results of a series of case studies which form a corpusbased analysis of the syntactic phenomenon of government. The exact focus is on governed prepositions, i.e. those instances of English prepositions which are fixed formally by their syntactic heads. Governed prepositions are an important part of English in statistical terms. Just those that have verbal heads (see Sect. 9.2.2) occur almost 5,000 times per million words. They are common across registers and outnumber phrasal verbs1 (Biber et al. 1999: 415). Each case study featured a syntactic pattern (a head word plus a dependent preposition) which was tested against a sample of occurrences of the head from the British National Corpus. Altogether, the case studies involved more than 4,500 excerpted examples. The analysis of each case study aimed to decide whether the given preposition is governed. The general goal was to pinpoint quantitative and qualitative differences between governed and non-governed patterns. Authentic language data present a number of problems when theoretical constructs are applied to them. Still, the paper offers a way of deciding which patterns involve government and which do not. It transpires, however, that (non-)government is actually gradable. A continuum might be a more appropriate model than a discrete binary opposition. The paper deals with government in English but as it is a part of a larger PolishEnglish contrastive project, reference will also be made to ideas coming from Polish linguistics.

9.2 9.2.1

Theoretical Issues The Notion of Government

The concept of government stems from classical grammar (Latin rectio). Let us begin with an overview of definitions from various linguistics encyclopaedias: [T]he way in which the use of one word requires another word to take a particular form, especially in highly inflected languages. In Latin, prepositions govern nouns: ad is followed by an accusative of movement (ad villam ‘towards the villa’), in by either an accusative of movement (in villam ‘into the villa’) or an ablative of location (in villa ‘in the villa’) (Chalker 1992: 445). [A] type of grammatical relation between two or more elements in a sentence, in which the choice of one element causes the selection of a particular form of another element. (. . .) In German, for example, the preposition mit “with” governs, that is requires, the

1

The decisive test for a sequence being a prepositional verb (and not phrasal) is that a pronominal object is placed after the preposition (Biber et al. 1999: 404–5; cf. also Huddleston 2002: 281). Phrasal verbs are beyond the scope of this paper.

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dative case (. . .): Peter kam mit seiner Schwester. “Peter came with his sister”. Where sein “his” has the dative feminine case marker –er (Richards et al. 1992: 158–9). [A] kind of syntactic linkage whereby one word (or word class) requires a specific morphological form of another word (or class). For example, prepositions in Latin are said to ‘govern’ nouns (Crystal 1997: 171). [A syntactic relation in which] the governing constituent is linked with the governed one freely while the governed constituent must be joined with a syntactic marker whose form is determined by the governing constituent (Karolak 1999: 503; trans. JG).

The shared element of the definitions is the idea that one syntactic constituent (dependent) must take a particular grammatical form which is specified by some other constituent (head). A few clarifications are in order. By far, the best term to use is “constituent” and not “word”, which is an ambiguous term. Moreover, government may involve constituents that are larger than word by any standard. PPs, under scrutiny here, are such multi-word constituents. There is also a significant difference between relations that link words and word classes (cf. Crystal’s definition above). Government as understood here applies only to the former. The governing constituent is in each case a particular lexeme and its requirement of a given grammatical form of the dependent is its lexical property. To use an example from Palmer (1971), the Latin verb pareo, parere ‘to obey’ requires one of its arguments to be in the dative case and “this has to be indicated in the dictionary” (103). In English, we observe that e.g. the verb approve needs one of its arguments to be a PP with of. Similarly, famous requires an analogical use of for, etc. If government seems a neatly defined term now, the impression is misleading. In actual practice it is used in different ways, which causes confusion. Traditionally the term was underused – applied virtually only to verbs and prepositions governing cases (cf. Karolak 1999: 504). Today there is a tendency to overuse it. Dixon (2010), in his harsh criticism of the term (“linguistics would better off without it”), notes that it is typically said that for instance in the sentence She took coals to the fireplace the verb take governs the object coals (231). Since there is no formal marking of the object here, this has little to do with government applied rigorously. The notion of syntactic dependency suffices. In generative linguistics government is practically adopted in its traditional meaning (see Cook and Newson 1996: 50–1), but the formal definition refers ultimately to the lexical class of the “governor” and the relation of “c-command” (240). Thus, the relation of government holding between two syntactic elements follows directly from the structure of the phrase marker and it need not manifest itself formally at all.2 A crucial issue is the applicability of government to English. Crystal (1997) and Chalker (1992) explicitly deny it. Since government has typically been associated with selecting a case form from a paradigm, such opinions are natural. However, if we do not restrict the scope of government to single-word dependents, we find a number of analytic dependents in English that fit the notion perfectly. Governed 2 The paper does not adopt the generative concept of government developed primarily by Chomsky (1981).

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prepositions emerge as one of the most significant groups here.3 Thus, approve governs of, famous governs for, etc., much like pareo, parere governs the dative case in Latin.4 Although government is a syntactic phenomenon, it has a semantic side to it. First of all, many lexemes license a number of dependents with different meanings that may all be governed. A classic example is the German verb geben ‘to give’ which has two objects – one in the accusative, the other in the dative. The former denotes the theme and the latter the recipient, e.g. 1. Er hat mir einen Kuli gegeben ‘He gave me a pen.’ Mir is the dative of ich ‘I’, and einen Kuli bears the accusative masculine marker –en. In real-life communication, which noun phrase is which participant would be deducible from general knowledge and context. However, both objects have fixed grammatical forms (i.e. they are governed). Each case renders a separate semantic content – this is semantics behind government. 5 The meaning of the head is important for government as well. A polysemous word may have different government patterns for different meanings – compare ask (‘pose a question’) about and ask (‘request’) for (cf. Lesz-Duk 1998: 23; and also Latin in in Chalker’s definition above). Thus, government holds between a head lexeme with a specified meaning and a particular syntactic marker of its dependent.6

9.2.2

Governed Prepositions (?)

Governed prepositions are the very theme of this paper, but their existence is not uncontroversial, whence the question mark in the title of the section. In fact, recent monumental works on English grammar adopt opposite views. For example, the verb wait typically co-occurs with the preposition for as in the phrase wait for me, which can have two constituent analyses: 3

Chalker (1992) mentions the possibility of such an extension. See also Karolak’s (1999) criticism of the inconsistencies in the traditional use of the term. Amendments much in line with his arguments can be found in Saloni and S´widzin´ski (1998). Also Gołąb et al. (1968) include PPs in the scope of government (519). 4 This approach assumes that prepositions are like modifiers (or “analytic inflections”) that serve to link the following NPs to superordinate structures rather than like true legitimate heads of phrases. This is in fact advocated by Biber et al. (1999: 74) and also Dixon (2010: 49, 232). NB some works in Polish linguistics use the term “prepositional-nominal phrase” (trans. JG) for prepositional phrases, cf. the very titles of Kosek (1999) and Grybosiowa (1979). The perspective adopted here runs contrary to the one presented by Pullum and Huddleston (2002: 598–9). 5 Exactly the same analysis applies to equivalents in other languages, e.g. Latin do, dare or Polish dac´/dawac´. 6 Latin pareo, parere is also polysemous. The meaning ‘to obey’ has an object in the dative and the meaning ‘to appear’ does not.

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2. [wait for] [me] 3. [wait] [for me] The first analysis assumes that the sequence contains a multi-word verb (called “prepositional verb”) wait for and its object (Biber et al. 1999: 74, 414). The second option prefers to envisage wait as a single-word verb and for me as its prepositional object. The label “prepositional verb” can be kept, now referring to wait only and implying that it takes a PP as an object (Huddleston 2002: 274). Arguments can be raised for both analyses. The first one is supported by the supposed semantic unity of the sequence of the verb and preposition. The allegedly multi-word verb wait for can be replaced by the single-word synonym expect.7 “Semantic unity” is an unclear concept though - Herbst (1999) dismisses it altogether. The argument ignores the fact that the verbs in question are used without the preposition: 4. So you have been waiting.8 An elliptical sentence like (4) confirms that the verb is the locus of the meaning and the preposition marks the dependent when it is present. Huddleston (2002: 275–276) gives several structural arguments for the second analysis such as mobility of the prepositional phrase as a whole and insertion of adjuncts, as in: 5. Terry waited impatiently for me. Huddleston (2002: 277) explicitly rejects the first analysis, as does Herbst (1999). Another structural argument for the second analysis is that derived words and phrases typically involve only the verbal element, cf. waiting room and not *waiting-for room. Finally, the second analysis is more encompassing. It can be easily applied to heads other than verbs as in: 6. [allergic] [to dust] 7. [attempt] [at denial] The extension of the first analysis would mean assuming, rather infelicitously, the existence of a multi-word adjective allergic to and a multi-word noun attempt at.9 This paper accepts the second analysis. The verb (e.g. wait) takes an object whose form is a PP with a specific preposition (e.g. for). Thus, the preposition is governed by the verb.

7

Biber et al. (1999: 414) give more such pairs, e.g. look like and resemble, think about and consider. 8 All the examples of English sentences in the paper are excerpted from the BNC. 9 The data below (Table 9.2) show that with attempt such an analysis is unacceptable for statistical reasons.

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9.3 9.3.1

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Case Studies Design

Each case study involved a pattern of a given head and a putatively governed dependent preposition, e.g. attempt(n) at. Each head was homogeneous syntactically (occurrences of the verb attempt were excluded) and semantically (if attempt meant ‘attack on a well-known individual with an intention of murder’, the example was dismissed). Both heads and dependents were defined in semantic terms (see Table 9.2). Each head word was queried in the BNC and sampled results underwent manual labelling that divided them into four groups. The first group contained the tested pattern, e.g. 8. In the UN, the inevitable instrument of most attempts at mediation was the Security Council resolution (. . .). The second group included other syntactic patterns (as it were competing with the tested one) used to render the same meaning of the dependent, e.g. 9. Venables has been unable to keep his word because of chairman Alan Sugar’s attempt to oust him from the club. The data may (and usually did) reveal more than one competing pattern, e.g. 10. No relief attempt was in evidence. The third group included results not containing any syntactically dependent element with the researched meaning, e.g. 11. At my next attempt I passed into Eton a whole form from the bottom of the school. Lastly, the queries also included some irrelevant examples, e.g. 12. This series attempts to combine the best of traditional and modern mathematics (. . .). where the word attempt is a verb but has been misannotated in the corpus as a noun. To sum up this exemplification, (8) was labelled as having “at + NP”, the dependent form of the tested pattern. (9) was labelled as “to + infinitive” and (10) as “preposed noun”, both being competing patterns. (11) fails to realise the sought meaning of the dependent and was labelled “zero pattern”. (12) was classified as “irrelevant”. Labelled results were counted and put into percentages showing fractions of all the relevant examples from the given query that each pattern accounted for. The analysis of the tested pattern vs. competing patterns led to classifying the pattern as either government or not.

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All tested patterns are presented in Table 9.1. The motivation for the choice of these particular heads was to represent different lexical classes and to include both frequent (e.g. speak) and less frequent words (e.g. conducive). Table 9.1 Overview of all case studies Case study Attempt(n) at Afraid of Blame(v) for Conducive to Effective in Hide(v) behind Proud of Reason(n) for Speak of Speak to Vote(v) for

Assumed to represent Government Government Government Government Lack of government Lack of government Government Disputable government Disputable government Disputable government Lack of government

Relevant examples 424 238 488 279 134 182 304 517 803 803 254

Irrelevant examples 30 65 17 12 271 122 98 92 106 106 103

All analysed examples 454 303 505 291 405 304 402 609 909 909 357

All results in the BNC 13,189 5,437 3,762 291 9,763 5,899 3,007 28,971 24,278 24,278 5,003

The paper analyses just a dozen patterns while thousands of English words are available as heads. It was then necessary to make sure the few researched heads would show differing behaviour. Thus, some of the analysed patterns were chosen with an assumption that they would represent government. Others were selected as likely examples of lack of it. The classification as one or the other was based on general command of English and linguistics practice. Another group was seen as problematic for an aprioristic decision. These assumptions were only made to ensure that the results would vary between the case studies. They did not constitute any research hypothesis per se. Since the analysis involved time-consuming manual labelling of all the examples, it was necessary to sample query results.10 Representativeness of the sample was obtained by quantifying the labelled examples for a smaller sample, then enlarging it and quantifying it again. The figures for the original and the enlarged sample were subjected to the chi-square test. When the test showed a high p-value (very low probability of the differences between the samples being statistically significant), it was assumed that the sample was representative and further enlarging would not alter the results.

9.3.2

Results

The tables below provide semantic and statistical details for individual case studies. Tables 9.2–9.6 present the studies that were assumed to represent government. 10

For conducive all examples from the BNC were analysed.

124 Table 9.2 Results of case study of attempt(n) at

J. Gaszewski

Head’s meaning: act of putting effort into achieving sth Dependent’s meaning: thing one wants to achieve Dependent’s structure at+NP/gerund on+NP of+NP Preposed noun to+infinitive Zero Total Irrelevant examples

Table 9.3 Results of case study of afraid of

7.78% 0.24% 0.24% 3.54% 77.36% 10.85%

Head’s meaning: feeling fear Dependent’s meaning: reason for the feeling Dependent’s structure of+NP/gerund (that)+clause to+infinitive Zero Total Irrelevant examples

Table 9.4 Results of case study of blame(v) for

Occurrences 33 1 1 15 328 46 424 30

Occurrences 98 44 43 53 238 65

41.18% 18.49% 18.07% 22.27%

Head’s meaning: ascribe responsibility for an undesirable situation Dependent’s meaning: bad situation that is blamed Dependent’s structure for+NP/gerund NP at+NP about+NP Adverb that+clause Zero Total Irrelevant examples

Occurrences 240 62 1 1 1 1 182 488 17

49.18% 12.70% 0.2% 0.2% 0.2% 0.2% 37.3%

As the examples of attributive adjectives never realised the tested or competing pattern, they were excluded from the count and labelled as irrelevant. The results refer only to predicative use. This applies to all adjectival heads in the paper.

9 Governed Prepositions in English: A Corpus-Based Study Table 9.5 Results of case study of conducive to

Head’s meaning: being a favourable condition Dependent’s meaning: thing/process favoured by the condition Dependent’s structure to+NP/gerund for+NP/gerund of+NP Zero Total Irrelevant examples

Table 9.6 Results of case study of proud of

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Occurrences 268 2 1 8 279 12

96.06% 0.72% 0.36% 2.99%

Head’s meaning: having the feeling of high self-value Dependent’s meaning: reason for the feeling Dependent’s structure Occurrences of+NP/gerund 172a 56.58% to+infinitive 58 19.08% that+clause 9 2.96% Zero 65 21.38% Total 304 Irrelevant examples 98 a The figure for the tested pattern includes the following example, an obvious typo: 13. One footnote the new clinic is proud off; surgeons from elsewhere in Britain are asking for details of Hereford’s runaway success.

Table 9.7 Results of case study of reason(n) for

Head’s meaning: thing that causes another thing Dependent’s meaning: thing caused by the reason Dependent’s structure

Occurrences

for+NP/gerund 119a 23.02% behind+NP 1 0.19% to+infinitive 34 6.58% (that)+clause 47 9.09% why+clause 67 12.96% Zero 249 48.16% Total 517 Irrelevant examples 92 a The figure for the tested pattern includes the example with an archaic derivative of for: 14. The Captain’s mirth over the Butcher’s Assistant’s love-life and the reasons therefore reached the ears of the Old Stager (. . .).

126 Table 9.8 Results of case study of speak of

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Head’s meaning: utter words to convey meaning Dependent’s meaning: topic of speaking Dependent’s structure of+NP about+NP on+NP zero Total Irrelevant examples

Table 9.9 Results of case study of speak to

Occurrences 86 40 13 664 803 106

10.71% 4.98% 1.62% 82.69%

Head’s meaning: utter words to convey meaning Dependent’s meaning: addressee of the message Dependent’s structure to+NP with+NP Zero Total Irrelevant examples

Occurrences 183 7 613 803 106

22.79% 0.87% 76.34%

Tables 9.7–9.9 document the case studies of patterns of “disputable government”. The last three tables present the case studies that were assumed to represent lack of government (Tables 9.10–9.12).

Table 9.10 Results of case study of effective in

Head’s meaning: producing considerable effects for whose production sth is used Dependent’s meaning: activity, domain or field in which the effects are obtained Dependent’s structure in+NP/gerund for+NP at+NP in terms of+NP to+infinitive Zero Total Irrelevant examples

Occurrences 16 4 1 1 1 111 134 271

11.94% 2.99% 0.75% 0.75% 0.75% 82.84%

9 Governed Prepositions in English: A Corpus-Based Study Table 9.11 Results of case study of hide(v) behind

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Head’s meaning: position sth in a particular place to have protection from sth and deny access and/or visibility Dependent’s meaning: thing that provides protection Dependent’s structure behind+NP beneath+NP underneath+NP under+NP in+NP inside+NP within+NP among+NP Adverb under+NP or in+NP under+NP or behind+NP Zero Total Irrelevant examples

Table 9.12 Results of case study of vote(v) for

Occurrences 11 5 1 4 37 1 1 4 18 1 1 98 182 122

6.04% 2.75% 0.55% 2.2% 20.33% 0.55% 0.55% 2.2% 9.89% 0.55% 0.55% 53.85%

Head’s meaning: take part in a formalised democratic decisionmaking process and support one/some of the possible options Dependent’s meaning: option in the decision-making process Dependent’s structure for+NP NP in favour of+NP against+NP against+NP rather than for+NP Zero Total Irrelevant examples

9.4 9.4.1

Occurrences 85 27 5 24 1 112 254 103

33.46% 10.63% 1.97% 9.45% 0.39% 44.09%

Discussion General Remarks

Several general observations are in order. First of all, raw percentages of the tested patterns vary considerably both with patterns assumed to represent government and lack of it. Thus, percentages taken on their own cannot be significant. All the case studies involve examples of zero pattern and competing patterns. Examples of zero pattern do not contradict government. A governed dependent may be unrealised because of ellipsis or underspecification (see (4)). Consider also

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15. Carol with proud dad John where the noun dad implies the semantic content of the unrealised dependent of proud. Attested examples of competing patterns prima facie undermine government. If there are several forms utilised for the same meaning of a dependent after the same head, how can we talk of it requiring a particular form of the dependent? Competing patterns surfaced in all the case studies. Should we conclude that there is no government in any of the studies? On the other hand, we know that blame “takes” for, proud “takes” of, etc., and the data prove this. Authentic language material is never neat and includes statistical noise. Unanalysed corpus data do not prove anything on their own (cf. Rusiecki 2006). It is necessary to investigate of what kind the competing patterns are, where they occur and, lastly, how numerous they are. Bearing in mind the unsure status of government in all the case studies, we will proceed from ones where it must clearly be rejected to those where it can be upheld under certain provisions that apply to government in general.

9.4.2

Antonym Sets: Strong Case Against Government

The clearest example of non-government is hide behind. The tested pattern accounts for only 6% of examples, it has almost a dozen competing patterns, and some of them are more frequent (hide in – c. 20%). We can also have co-ordination of dependents with different patterns: 16. Never hide spare keys under doormats or in flowerpots. 17. And to hide the microphone under a table or behind a curtain, while guaranteeing the naturalness of the content, does little for the acoustic quality (. . .). A sentence combining any of the patterns would be acceptable. Clearly, hide does not govern behind11 – a PP with this preposition is not the necessary form for rendering the thing that provides cover. This result was of course easy to predict. Behind names the exact spatial configuration of the hidden entity and the cover-provider. Other configurations are possible and these are rendered by the competing patterns. Crucially, behind and its competitors form a coherent contrastive set. Thus, they are not competing patterns, but different realisations of the same overarching category – localisation in space. Thus, hide semantically requires a location argument which may be formally realised in a plethora of ways.12 Since the actual form of this argument is not specified, there is 11

However, hide would likely prove to govern from (with a different meaning). Some spatial prepositions did not surface in the results since the spatial configurations they denote are unsuitable for hiding.

12

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no government.13 NB the contrastive set evidenced in the researched dependents of hide has general validity in the language system. The case study of vote for yields similar results. Vote does not govern for but opens a slot for a coherent contrastive set of prepositions (for, against), which again is generally valid in the language.

9.4.3

Contextual Synonymy: Lack of Government (?)

The case study of speak of also yielded a couple of prepositions that can all function as the researched dependents. Apart from speak of we have speak about and speak on. Unlike in Sect. 9.4.2, here we cannot discern any clear semantic differences. On the contrary, the prepositions prove synonymous in the context: 18. You may have heard people speak about the loss of brain cells as we get older. 19. That evening Carter gave a warm toast to the Shah in which he spoke of the great importance of Iran’s relationship to the United States. 20. (. . .) that he should not be prevented, by convention or otherwise, from speaking in Parliament on such a matter. The contextual synonymy of about and of seems very strong. Speak on seems to stand out somewhat – its occurrences are restricted to phrases with abstract nouns. Moreover, it seems to be marked stylistically (see Sect. 9.4.5). As in Sect. 9.4.2, the researched dependent does not have a fixed formal shape, which suggests there is no government. Yet, we have a very limited set of alternative patterns. While this case may not meet the definitions of government in Sect. 9.2.1, it fits the actual scholarly practice (cf. Lesz-Duk 1988: 19–24; Kosek 1999). If we consider speak not to have government, it is clearly a weaker case than hide behind. An alternative analysis would be that speak has a weak type of government and allows a fixed limited set of dependent forms instead of just one. Unlike the ones in Sect. 9.4.2, this set is not valid as a synonym set generally (though it is rather regular in the context of verbs of speech). Contextual synonymy abounds in the case studies.14 Thus, alongside speak to we have speak with, effective in next to effective for and effective at, attempt at and attempt of, reason for and reason behind. As far as the decisions about government go, all of these are similar to speak of. Let us also consider ‘synonyms’ of blame for:

13

This analysis may seem truistic, but the most frequent spatial preposition in a given context tends to be wrongly assumed to be governed, e.g. Polish do in dochodzic´ do bramy is governed according to Gołąb (1967: 21–22). More instances can be found in Karolak (1999). 14 NB the case studies discussed in the previous section also include synonyms, e.g. hide under and hide beneath, which are synonymous generally.

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21. They have been replaced by a Labour leadership keen to blame many of their problems at the Government’s door. 22. Mrs Smart, 41, hit the headlines in TODAY when, (. . .), she blamed the Tories of betrayal after a lifetime of her support. 23. (. . .) there was a lapse with that guy, don’t know who was to blame about that third goal but (. . .). In (21) blame for was undoubtedly mixed with lay the blame at sb’s door – a structure involving the noun blame and not the verb. (22) seems to feature a confusion of the verbs blame and accuse and was thus labelled “irrelevant” because of its semantics. (23) cannot be dismissed in a similar way, but it differs quite significantly from the contextual synonyms mentioned earlier. The few examples of speak with, effective for, attempt of or reason behind in our sample can be supported with more instances in the whole BNC. These are infrequent but fairly regular patterns existing in the language. Blame about appears in (23) and in one more example only, so we may treat it as marginal.15 It does not undermine the government pattern blame for. Similar cases are conducive for and conducive of. The single example of attempt on in our sample, 24. If only he could manage to finish the Koran. He had made several attempts on it. is likely a transfer from the other meaning of the noun. Such isolated counterexamples should not count against government. In general, frequency of patterns relative to each other does matter. Speak of occurs only roughly twice as often as speak about, but attempt at is around thirty times more frequent than attempt of. The former contextual synonym set defies government more than the latter. In the case of reason for and reason behind there is an even greater discrepancy, which cannot be ignored. We could view reason for as a borderline case of government.

9.4.4

Pragmatic, Syntactic, Stylistic Factors: Defence of Government

The case study of blame for featured oddities like (21), (22) and (23). Yet, the competing pattern most significant numerically involves a bare NP instead of a PP with for: 25. The Trust blames the redundancies on the recession.

15

Cf. Charzyn´ska-Wo´jcik’s (2010) discussion of a putative Old English ditransitive verb type. Despite having a single attested example of the type, she dismisses it as an active syntactic pattern because the example is unique among all Old English ditransitive structures as well as among the occurrences of the verb it includes (97).

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In passive voice it can be placed as a subject: 26. A lot can be blamed on years of dictatorship and rotten planning – but not all. All examples of this kind also include a PP with on that has a different meaning. This does not necessarily contradict the government pattern blame for. (25) and (26) involve a re-shuffling of the thematic structure of a basic clause with blame for. The peripheral argument (for + NP) is raised to the role of direct object, while the original direct object is demoted to a peripheral but obligatory argument (on + NP).16 We conclude that blame allows two mutually exclusive clause patterns, one of which involves governed for. A large group of competing patterns involved dependents of clausal character: 27. The Mills can be proud that all their hard work has paid off. 28. I am afraid that one day I’ll come to hate even my brothers and sisters. 29. All attempts to engineer a dialogue between the two have so far come to nothing (. . .). It seems that in such sentences the amount of information put into the dependent is rather unwieldy for a PP. Even though a preposition may be combined with a gerund, which enables including the meaning of practically the whole clause in a PP, that-clauses and infinitives generally outnumber preposition + gerund sequences across the case studies. Clausal constituents simply handle that load of information better and are the most natural way of rendering it. Thus, we should accept structures alternative to the tested pattern if they are of considerably different syntactic character (cf. also Karolak (1999: 504) on infinitival alternants for governed PPs in Polish). This remark applies to most of the case studies.

9.4.5

Variation in the Data

The data in the case studies showed considerable variation. Sections 9.4.1–9.4.4 commented on the most important problems it poses. One also has to remember that a reference corpus presents an averaged version of different regional varieties, sociolects, registers and idiolects and this increases the variation of the extracted data. Varieties of all these kinds are largely autonomous and may differ at any level of language structure, e.g. in rules concerning governed prepositions. Variation in the data may also reflect a diachronic change in progress. Such factors might motivate at least some of the competing patterns found. For instance, as mentioned above, speak on seems to belong to the formal register only.

16

Similar alternations exist for other verbs in English, e.g. supply with vs. supply to. In languages where similar phenomena are more regular and grammaticalised, they are called applicative voice (see e.g. Dixon 2010: 169–70).

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Examples in the sample are formal and written, but their low number does not allow firm statements here. Exact assessment of these factors is beyond the limitations of this paper.

9.5

Conclusions

This section sums up the observations made heretofore and attempts to model the distinction between government and lack of it in general terms. The actual concept of government used in a given research project depends to some extent on its needs. As is hoped to have been implied so far, the most encompassing analysis is to envisage government as a gradable phenomenon, some kind of a continuum. However, if discrete distinctions are necessary, there are certain natural cut-off points in the continuum. As said before, percentages of the tested patterns taken separately do not enable to decide if a preposition is governed. Government and obligatoriness are different things. There are obligatory, but non-governed dependents, e.g. expression of location after put, and also governed but optional ones (almost all the examples of government in the paper). What is significant is the relation between the tested and competing patterns. When they form a coherent set of antonyms, this clearly indicates lack of government. There are also cases in which the competing pattern(s) are contextual synonyms of the tested pattern. This, on principle, points to lack of government. However, if a looser concept of government is needed, all such contextually synonymous patterns could be treated as examples of variable government. If the less common options in a contextual synonym set are of very low frequency relative to the most common pattern, they could possibly be treated as marginal in the language. In that case the most frequent option would be governed by more rigid standards as well. With some head words we can observe contextual antonymy, which could also count against government, e.g. blame for vs. blame on. However, along the lines of argumentation in Sects. 9.2.1 and 9.4.4, such contrastive dependents should be regarded as separate arguments of the head. They do not conflict with each other and can all be governed. A similar case is the pattern afraid for found in a handful of examples. It certainly contrasts with afraid of, but it was treated as a separate argument licensed by the head. Corpus examples with this structure do not render the researched dependent’s meaning and were labelled “zero”. The difference between government and non-government is best conceived of as a continuum.17 Table 9.13 proposes such a continuum with case studies described in the paper. A continuum may not fit some research purposes. If there is a need to 17

The gradability of government is not a novel idea. Lesz-Duk (1988), for instance, gives an overview of different concept of government, some of which distinguish “strong” and “weak” government (7, 9). The distinctions are defined in terms of syntactic functions and obligatoriness. Hentschel’s (2003) proposal of a continuum of grammaticalisation status of prepositions is closest to the analysis presented here.

9 Governed Prepositions in English: A Corpus-Based Study

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Table 9.13 Continuum of government

Description Non-government pole

Relative frequency of competing patterns

Tested and competing patterns form an antonym set Tested and competing patterns are contextual synonyms

Hide behind Vote for (High)

(Low)

Government pole

Tested patterns

Speak of Effective in Speak to Attempt at Reason for

Competing patterns are acceptable on pragmatic or stylistic grounds

Blame for Conducive to

Competing patterns (if any) are of syntactically discrepant character

Afraid of Proud of

draw a line between government and non-government, the most advisable place for this is above blame for in Table 9.13. For statistical reasons government may be extended to include reason for and possibly attempt at. If a loose concept of government is needed, the dividing line should be placed above speak of.

References Biber, D., S. Johansson, G. Leech, S. Conrad and E. Finegan. 1999. Longman grammar of spoken and written English. Harlow: Longman. Chalker, S. 1992. Government. In The Oxford companion to the English language, ed. T. Mc Arthur, 445. Oxford, NY: Oxford University Press. Charzyn´ska-Wo´jcik, M. 2010. The Syntax of Old English clausal ditransitive verbs. In: Verb structures: Between phonology and morphosyntax, eds. E. Cyran and B. Szymanek, 75–109. Lublin: Wydawnictwo KUL. Chomsky, N. 1981. Lectures on government and binding: The Pisa lectures. Berlin: Mouton. Cook, V. J. and M. Newson. 1996. Chomsky’s Universal Grammar: An introduction. Oxford: Basil Blackwell. Crystal, D. 1997. A dictionary of linguistics and phonetics. Oxford: Blackwell. Dixon, R. M. W. 2010. Basic linguistic theory. Vol. 1. Methodology. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Gołąb, Z. 1967. Pro´ba klasyfikacji syntaktycznej czasowniko´w polskich (na zasadzie konotacji). Biuletyn PTJ XXV: 3–43. Wrocław: Ossolineum. Gołąb, Z., A. Heinz and K. Polan´ski. 1968. Słownik terminologii je˛zykoznawczej. Warszawa: PWN. Grybosiowa, A. 1979. Fraza nominalna przyimkowa w funkcji okolicznika przyczyny. Studia z filologii polskiej i słowian´skiej XVIII: 67–79. Hentschel, G. 2003. Zur Klassifikation von Pr€apositionen im Vergleich zur Klassifikation von Kasus. In Pr€ apositionen im Polnischen. Beitr€ age zu einer gleichnamigen Tagung, Oldenburg,

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8. bis 11. Februar 2000. (Studia Slavica Oldenburgensia 11), eds. G. Hentschel and Th. Menzel, 161–191. Oldenburg. Herbst, Th. 1999. English valency structures - A first sketch. Erfurt Electronic Studies in English (EESE) 6. http://webdoc.gwdg.de/edoc/ia/eese/artic99/herbst/6_99.html. Accessed 30 June 2010. Huddleston, R. 2002. The clause: complements. In The Cambridge grammar of the English language, eds. R. Huddleston and G. K. Pullum, 213–321. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Karolak, S. 1999. Rząd. In Encyklopedia je˛zykoznawstwa ogo´lnego, ed. K. Polan´ski, 503–505. Wrocław, Warszawa, Krako´w: Ossolineum. Kosek, I. 1999. Przyczasownikowe frazy przyimkowo-nominalne w zdaniach wspo´łczasnego je˛zyka polskiego. Olsztyn: UWM. Lesz-Duk, M. 1988. Czasowniki o składni przyimkowej w je˛zyku polskim. Cze˛stochowa: WSP. Palmer, F. R. 1971. Grammar. Harmondsworth: Penguin. Pullum, G. K. and R. Huddleston. 2002. Prepositions and preposition phrases. In: The Cambridge grammar of the English language, eds. R. Huddleston and G. K. Pullum, 597–661. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Richards, J., J. Platt and H. Platt. 1992. Longman dictionary of language teaching and applied linguistics. Harlow: Longman. Rusiecki, J. 2006. Badania korpusowe a ‘lingwistyka gabinetowa’: czy te dwa podejs´cia kiedys´ sie˛ spotkają? In: Korpusy w angielsko-polskim je˛zykoznawstwie kontrastywnym. Teoria i praktyka, eds. A. Duszak, E. Gajek and U. Okulska, 17–27. Krako´w: Universitas. Saloni, Z. and M. S´widzin´ski. 1998. Składnia wspo´łczesnego je˛zyka polskiego. Warszawa: PWN.

Part III

Historical Linguistics

.

Chapter 10

Reflections on Structural Variation in Old English Verbs Magdalena Charzyn´ska-Wo´jcik

Abstract The paper shows the inapplicability of traditional descriptions of Old English verbs (cf. Visser 1963–73; Mitchell 1995; Ogura 1995) construed in terms of categories and classes suitable for MnE verbs. Classifications based on notions such as “intransitive”, “transitive” and “ditransitive” verbs or “direct”, “indirect” and “quasi” objects fail to capture the inherent properties of the syntax of the Old English verb. The data discussed in the paper reveal the inadequacy of the existing classifications and show the necessity for a new approach to Old English verbs. On the basis of selected Old English verbs and their usages it is shown that the Old English verb exhibits a very high degree of variation as far as the structures it appears in are concerned. This optionality implies that what is needed is a classification resulting from the study of variation exhibited by a particular verb, since it is precisely the available variation that should be seen as a defining factor in determining Old English verb classes.

10.1

Introduction

The aim of the paper is to show that a description of Old English (henceforth OE) verbs (cf. Visser 1963–1973; Mitchell 1985; Ogura 1995) in terms of classifications which we apply to Modern English (henceforth MnE) verbs is not only inaccurate but, more importantly, it allows the inherent properties of OE verbs to go unnoticed. Therefore, we will argue against an account of OE verbs in terms of verb classes, which divides verbs into transitive vs. intransitive and further subdivides the former group into monotransitive vs. ditransitive, where still finer distinctions obtain

M. Charzyn´ska-Wo´jcik (*) John Paul II Catholic University of Lublin, Lublin, Poland e-mail: [email protected] M. Pawlak and J. Bielak (eds.), New Perspectives in Language, Discourse and Translation Studies, Second Language Learning and Teaching, DOI 10.1007/978-3-642-20083-0_10, # Springer-Verlag Berlin Heidelberg 2011

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depending on what the constituent elements are, i.e. NP(s), PP(s) or CLAUSE(s). It will be demonstrated that an OE verb allows such a degree of optionality as far as the expression of its complements is concerned that a (relatively) straightforward classification can apply to a particular usage or structure rather than to a given Old English verb as such. This, however, is only a necessary first step as it is precisely the available variation exhibited by a particular verb that, we believe, should be seen as a defining factor in determining verb classes. The paper is divided into two major parts. The existing classifications of Old English verbs together with the problems these traditional approaches induce are presented in Sect. 10.2. Three major authors are discussed here: Visser (1963–1973) in Sect. 10.2.1, Mitchell (1985) in Sect. 10.2.2 and Ogura (1995) in Sect. 10.2.3. These traditional classifications are tested against the actual linguistic data in Sect. 10.3, which falls into two major parts: Sect. 10.3.1, devoted to verbs without complement, and Sect. 10.3.2, where verbs with an object are discussed. The paper ends with concluding remarks given in Sect. 10.4, which brings together all the classification problems encountered in the course of the discussion and attempts at some tentative answers.

10.2

Classifications of Old English Verbs

Traditional descriptions of verbs (cf. Visser 1963–1973; Mitchell 1985; Ogura 1995) which focus on the structure of a clause draw a dividing line between intransitive and transitive verbs. Transitive verbs are further subdivided into monotransitive and ditransitive ones. Monotransitive verbs can be further differentiated into those which take an NP complement, a PP complement or a CLAUSAL one. The same distinctions can be applied to ditransitive verbs, only here one needs to consider a number of combinations of the two elements: 2NPs, NP + PP, NP + CLAUSE or PP + CLAUSE. For a language with Case marking such as OE the number of these combinations for verbs with one or two objects grows as the objects can reveal a variety of Cases. In OE NP objects can bear ACC, DAC or GEN Case. Before discussing the actual verbs and verb types we need to have a look at the available classifications of OE verbs.

10.2.1 Visser (1963–1973) Visser’s classification of OE verbs is by necessity superficial – the author deals with syntactic structures throughout the history of English so he imposes a common panchronic classification and within these divisions shows further intricacies and details for particular periods. As a result, this classification does not focus on OE verbs as such but it merely encompasses them. Before embarking on a discussion of Visser’s classification of verbs, we need to clarify

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an important terminological point. Visser (1963–1973: }129) defines the term transitive as referring to verbs which require a direct object, while the term intransitive is used to mean that a verb “does not take a direct object”, Visser (1963–1973: }418) explains further on that a direct object1 refers to the accusative complementing the subject and verb group. In effect, transitive verbs are those which take an accusative object (cf. Visser 1963–1973: }418), while intransitive verbs are those which either do not take any object or take an indirect object, i.e. an object in the dative, or a causative object, i.e. an object in the genitive. The terminological problems aside, Visser draws a dividing line between “verbs without complement” and “verbs with complement”. Verbs which appear without complement are divided by Visser (1963–1973: } 129) into four major groups presented in (1) below. 1. (a) “Self-sufficient intransitive” verbs which never appear with any kind of object, either direct, indirect, prepositional or causative. (b) Intransitive verbs for which there exist etymologically related transitive homonyms2. (c) Absolute use of “intransitive verbs that are usually construed with an indirect object (in the dative) or with a causative object (in the genitive)” (Visser 1963–1973: }129). (d) Transitive verbs which are used without the direct object they normally require, i.e. the absolute use of transitive verbs. Visser (1963–1973: }129) remarks that “the suppression of the direct object occurs wherever it is so clear from the context that the utterance is intelligible without it”.3 However, as noted by Visser (1963–1973: }152), sometimes “the object understood is so vague that the verb is virtually an intransitive one, especially in those combinations in which it has acquired a different meaning from the habitual one”. The second major type of verbs distinguished by Visser are verbs with complement, divided into copulas, where the verb is “semantically subordinated” to the complement – irrelevant for us here, and verbs which are not semantically subordinated to the complement, in which case Visser (}315) calls the complement

Visser (1963–1973: }418) remarks that the expression is used “for want of a better one” and that it has not been accurately described in terms of notional or logical relations despite the many efforts. 2 Visser (1963–1973: }129) notes that verbs of this type are conventionally marked in grammar books and dictionaries as “intrans. + trans.”, a classification which in itself is self-contradictory. These, Visser remarks, should be viewed as separate verbs and concludes that “[f]or lack of a better term, and for the sake of convenient reference (. . .) these verbs will be called doublefunctioned or amphibious verbs”. 3 Interestingly, in apparent contradiction to this statement, in }}492–4 Visser discusses verbs which are normally used with an object but appear with a dummy hit. This obviously raises the question what the function of this dummy object was in view of what Visser says in }129 about the omission of an object if the context made the meaning of the phrase clear. 1

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an object. The first and obvious distinction within the latter group is drawn between verbs with a single object and verbs with two objects. As far as single objects are concerned, these are divided into four types shown in (2) below.4 2. (a) (b) (c) (d)

Indirect object (DAT) Causative object5 (GEN) Prepositional object Direct object (ACC)6

Double objects naturally encompass the existing variations of the above types and these fall into eight subtypes: 3. (a) Indirect object + causative object (DAT + GEN) (b) Direct object + causative object (ACC + GEN) (c) Direct object + ablative object (ACC + DAT) (d) Indirect object + direct object (DAT + ACC) (e) Direct object + direct object (ACC + ACC) (f) Indirect object + prepositional object (DAT + PP) (g) Direct object + prepositional object (ACC + PP) (h) Two prepositional objects (PP + PP) This is all Visser has to say as far as the classification of OE verbs is concerned, which leaves a lot of questions not only unanswered but also unasked. Our first major objection concerns the lack of any independent classification of verbs with clausal objects. In further parts of the book, dealing with other aspects of syntax, Visser discusses the modally marked form in object clauses (}}868–73), the infinitive as object (}}924–5) and the form in -ing as object (}1001–8), which indicates that this omission in the classification of verbs is not a side effect of the way the author classifies the above mentioned structures but of the way he classifies the verbs. Secondly, Visser does not seem to be consistent in the use of the term “transitive”, as shown in his }152, where under the heading “transitive verbs used absolutely”, he lists verbs with dative and genitive objects as well. This obviously results in confusion as far as the understanding of the basic term “transitive” is concerned. Moreover, Visser’s discussion ignores possible omissions of an object in the double object subtype and the variation that is recorded within the subgroups: 4 Within these basic divisions Visser introduces semantic classifications to the effect that he lists verbs appearing in particular structures under headings such as: “verbs of rejoicing, mourning, sorrowing”, etc. 5 Visser objects to the term “genitive object” for this type of relation, emphasising the fact that whatever the terminological difficulties, it should be borne in mind that verbs in this construction type are intransitive. For details see Visser (1963–1973: }370). 6 The class is further subdivided into: impersonal verbs with direct object, objects of result, cognate objects, instrumental objects, reflexive objects, reciprocal objects. These subdivisions, however, do not contribute to the general picture as they mostly reflect differences of functions not of structures.

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a ditransitive verb of one type can very well be used in a structure of another ditransitive type, monotransitively, or absolutely. Visser’s classification of OE verbs despite its drawbacks is the most comprehensive one in the literature. Mitchell (1985) and Ogura (1995), who also discuss OE verb types, draw heavily on it. Let us see now how the other two authors classify OE verbs.

10.2.2 Mitchell (1985) Mitchell (1985: }602) presents the traditional syntactic classification of verbs which distinguishes principal verbs from auxiliaries. The former embrace “transitive” and “reflexive” verbs and also “intransitive” and “impersonal”. After Pei and Gaynor (1954), as reported in Mitchell, transitive verbs are defined as capable of governing a direct object while “intransitive verbs do not require (and often cannot take) a direct object”. However, as Mitchell remarks, OE verbs pose certain problems for this neat classification. One difficulty consists in the existence of etymologically related homonyms, one of which is transitive, the other intransitive. Here Mitchell (1985) refers the reader to Visser’s (1963–1973: i 97) discussion (cf. also Sect. 10.2.1 above). Next, there is a problem with verbs which are classified as transitive in MnE and which in OE take an accusative, while others take a dative in OE (cf. Mitchell 1985: }602) as the dative was used in OE for the sole object of many intransitive verbs7 whose modern cognates are regarded as transitive. This, in turn, naturally forces Mitchell to pose the question of how to classify verbs which can take both ACC and DAT, or verbs which can take ACC, DAT or GEN? These difficulties can, according to Mitchell (1985: }604), be avoided by adapting the classification used by Visser (1963–1973). Mitchell’s main criticism of Visser consists in rejecting the use of the term “intransitive” in definition (1c) given above. Mitchell suggests avoiding the terms “transitive” and “intransitive” as far as possible and remarks that the terms should only be used in the sense “used (in)transitively”. Instead, according to Mitchell (1985: }604), the terms “object” and “complement” should be used in the traditional way (cf. Sect. 10.2.1 above), where verbs taking objects should not be understood automatically as transitive for they “may take other kinds of objects than an accusative”. Mitchell (1985: }1565) declares that he generally avoids the terms “indirect object” and “direct object”. When necessary, however, he uses the term “indirect object” in “the traditional way” and the term “direct object” to embrace ACC, GEN and DAT of verbs which are regarded as transitive in MnE or which take a direct object not found in MnE. A few remarks are in place here. First of all, some OE verbs are viewed by Mitchell from the modern perspective and, consequently, they are classified This view is presented in Quirk and Wrenn (1958: }107). To complicate the picture even more, Mitchell reports that these verbs are referred to by Ardern (1948) as intransitive verbs with Quasi-objects.

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through their MnE reflexes. As a result, a verb accompanied by an object in ACC, DAT or GEN will be classified as transitive whenever its modern equivalent is transitive. On the other hand, when a verb takes an ACC object, it is always viewed as transitive, regardless of its MnE equivalent. In effect, the classification of OE verbs is partly dependent on MnE verbal system. Moreover, it is obvious that by adapting Visser’s division of verbs, Mitchell’s classification will naturally suffer from the same drawbacks as those presented above with reference to Visser’s groupings. A final, indispensable comment is required here. For the sake of discussing passivisation, Mitchell (1985: }1090) proposes his own classification of verbs. This classification relies on cases rather than on grammatical relations, which makes it more descriptive and less prone to drawbacks.8 Most importantly, within this classification he does distinguish clausal objects, which were ignored in his general classification, and remarks that OE verbs tend to straddle groups, which is an important characteristics of OE.

10.2.3 Ogura (1995) Ogura’s (1995) classification of verbs is to a great extent based on Visser’s (1963–1973) and Mitchell’s (1985), as the author declares, hence her discussion of the terms “transitive” and “intransitive” does not contribute to the debate. Her own classification of verbs is primarily based on cases and the category of the object. As a result, the author distinguishes the following types of verbs.9 4. (a) “Impersonal” verbs (b) Verbs with genitive (including reflexive) (c) Verbs with dative (including “impersonal” and reflexive) (d) Verbs with accusative (including “impersonal” and reflexive) (e) Verbs with genitive and dative (including “impersonal” and reflexive) (f) Verbs with dative and accusative (including “impersonal” and reflexive) (g) Verbs with accusative and accusative (including “impersonal” and reflexive) (h) Verbs with accusative and adverbial dative (i) Verbs with prepositional objects (j) Verbs with infinitive (k) Verbs with dependent clause Each verb type is supplied with a list of Old and Middle English verbs which appeared in the given structure. In addition, within these groups, a semantic classification is added (in a manner resembling Visser’s semantic groupings). 8

This classification is not free from its own drawbacks, as is shown in Charzyn´ska-Wo´jcik (2008, in prep. a). 9 As in the case of Visser’s classification, I ignore copulas here as they are irrelevant for the topic pursued in this paper.

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As a result, all available structures are mentioned with the list of verbs used in these structures under the relevant headings. Three comments, we feel, are in order here. First of all, the lists of verbs given under each verb type are by no means complete10 – the index given at the end of the book contains 1,343 verbs, which consitute a small proportion of the total number of verbs in OE.11 Moreover, some verbs are listed several times as they appeared in OE in a variety of structures. Ogura does not, however, concentrate on this cooccurrence to the extent that she does not comment on any of these options in any way. This is not in itself a criticism of Ogura’s classification as it was meant for a different purpose but a necessary comment from the perspective assumed for this paper. Finally, Ogura’s classification does not encompass verbs without complement at all and, as a result, the non-expression of an object is not a valid parameter within her approach. In conclusion, we have presented three classifications of OE verbs together with their drawbacks and shortcomings, both those formulated by their authors and those raised in this paper. Most of these comments were theoretical and methodological in nature and were apparent even without any detailed analysis. In the next section we will show the applicability of these classifications to the actual OE data.

10.3

Traditional Approach to Data vs. Data Themselves

The above classifications offered an overview of verbs from the perspective of a structure in which they were used. As a result, each verb was classified into a type. However, one and the same verb could be used in a variety of structures. The kind of structures a given verb co-occurred in and the type of structures that were never realised by one and the same verb is not captured in a principled way by any of the above classifications. The only (partial) exception to this criticism is Visser’s classification given in (1) above, which takes into account not only the actual structure but also what (if any) NP the given verb co-occurred with in its other uses. The picture emerging from the data to be presented below shows that none of the classifications discussed in Sect. 10.2 above reveals anything about the true nature of the OE verb. In this section we will show how the above classifications fare with respect to the actual data. We will first present verbs without complement and then go on to verbs with an object. Due to the limitations of space we will not be able to discuss verbs with two objects here. This, however, does not impoverish the analysis presented, as the conclusions following from the discussion of the former two types converge with the picture emerging from the analysis of ditransitives (Charzyn´ska-Wo´jcik in prep.b). 10

They are mostly based on Visser’s lists. By comparison, the number of verbal entries in B&T is 6,711, to say nothing of the Supplement volume.

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10.3.1 Verbs Without Complement Let us begin with verbs which take no complement, i.e. verbs traditionally referred to as “intransitive”. 5. Intransitive (a)

(b)

The examples above show the verbs cidan ‘to chide, rebuke’ and arisan ‘to arise’, which have no complement. At first glance the verbs seem to represent the same structure, i.e. both seem to be intransitive. However, as we have seen, Visser divides verbs without a complement into four types so we need to look at these verbs more closely to see what the two structures represent. A conclusion that transpires from the examination of example (6a) is that the term “intransitive” is inapplicable to the verb cidan: 6. (a)

The example in (6a) above features the verb cidan accompanied by a DAT object, which contrasts with example (5a), where the same verb appears without complement. Applying Visser’s classification we could say that cidan in (6a) is a verb of type (2a), i.e. a verb with a single indirect object, while in (5a) it represents a verb of type (1c), i.e. a verb which can appear with an indirect object but is used absolutely. However, example (6b) given below renders this classification of (5a) wrong. 6. (b)

The object in (6a) was dative and in (6b) the same verb appears with a direct object, i.e. in the accusative case. In consequence, (6b) could be classified as (2d), i.e. a verb with a direct object, while the verb in (5a), if compared with (6b), would be classified as (1d). However, as we need to view (5a) with respect to both (6a) and (6b), there seems to be no available way of classifying the structure in (5a).

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Let us now move on to the verb arisan ‘to arise’ exemplified in (5b). This verb, unlike the one in (5a) cannot be accompanied with an object of any sort. In Visser’s classification, then, arisan should be classified as (1a), i.e. a self-sufficient intransitive verb which never appears with any kind of object. Note that Visser’s classification is useful here in that it draws a dividing line between (5b), which is classified as (1a), and (5a). Where it seriously fails is that it is completely incapable of classifying (5a), unless we resort to Visser (1963–1973: }152), where he confuses his own classification given in }129 and, under the heading “transitive verbs used absolutely”, he mixes the verbs which he originally kept apart as (1c) and (1d), i.e. verbs with dative, genitive and accusative objects (among others). It has to be borne in mind, however, that this is an effect of confusion rather than his intended classification.

10.3.2 Verbs with One Object The next verb type to be discussed are verbs with an object. The available structural options as far as the category of the object is concerned are illustrated below. 7. (a)

(b)

(c)

(d)

Considering the category of the object, the above monotransitive structures can be classified in a straightforward way, as shown in Table 10.1 above. This seemingly innocent classification, as we intend to show, poses some interesting questions. First of all, Visser’s classification does not recognise the

146 Table 10.1 Classification of the structures in (7) Ex. No. Verb Structure 7a wiþsacan NP-ACC ‘to reject, deny, refuse’ 7b cidan PP ‘to chide, rebuke’ 7c tocnawan Finite CLAUSE ‘to distinguish, understand’ 7d teolian/tilian Non-finite CLAUSE ‘to strive, attempt’

M. Charzyn´ska-Wo´jcik

Visser’s classification 2d 2c – –

types given under (7c) and (7d) at all. Mitchell’s general classification does not recognise clausal objects, either. In contrast, Ogura would propose the same classification as the one given above, i.e. based on the category and case of the internal argument. However, if we look at more data, none of the classifications seems suitable. Let us compare the structure in (7a) containing the verb wiþsacan ‘to reject, deny, refuse’ with the structures given in (8) below, which all contain the same verb: 8. (a)

(b)

(c)

The verb wiþsacan in (7a) is accompanied with an ACC object NP, but (8a) exhibits a complex sentence which consists of three clauses with the same verb. Here wiþsacan is accompanied with DAT, ACC and GEN object NPs.12 Thus, while (7a) would be classified by Visser as a transitive verb (2d), i.e. a verb with a direct object in the accusative, there is no suitable group to classify all the uses of the same This issue is reported by Mitchell (1985: }603), who remarks that such verbs pose a problem.

12

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verb shown in (8a), while classifying the three uses under three different types seems to be missing the point. Moreover, if we consider (8b), we can see that the same verb can also appear with a clausal object (no classification is available here in Visser’s or Mitchell’s systems). In (8c) the verb is used with no object at all but which of the options proposed by Visser (given here in (1) above) captures the structure properly? (1c) subsumes the absolute use of verbs which are normally used with dative or genitive objects, while (1d) encompasses verbs where the accusative object is not expressed. This is a recurring problem, as shown in the discussion of (5a) and (6) above. In sum, whatever terminological problems there are with classifying the relevant structures, the choice of the internal argument for the verb wiþsacan seems to be between no object at all or an NP object in any of the Cases available for an object in OE or it can even be an object expressed by a clause – a wide array of possibilities. The question, rhetorical for the time being, is whether this range is predictable in any way? Let us now move on to the next structure with one object exemplified in (7), i.e. a prepositional object given in (7b). The example contains the verb cidan, which has already been shown in examples (5a) and (6) above. In (7b), cidan is accompanied with a PP object, while in (5a) it is used with no object at all and in (6a, b) with DAT and ACC objects respectively. If this is not confusing enough, consider example (9) below: 9.

In (9) the verb cidan appears with two objects: a PP and a clause. As a result, in terms of a traditional description, as we have already shown, the verb is used absolutely in (5a) but we cannot classify it into a type (2c or 2d?), monotransitive with a direct object in (6b), indirect object or quasi-object in (6a) (transitive or intrasitive?), prepositional object in (7b), i.e. (2c) and ditransitive with a prepositional and clausal object in (9), for which no classification either in Visser’s or in Mitchell’s system exist. Ogura fails here as well as she does not classify separately verbs with a prepositional object and a dependent clause. The data throw new light on the matter, clearly showing the insufficiency of the existing classifications. Let us move on to another verb, tocnawan ‘to distinguish, understand’. The verb is used in (7c) with a clausal object. In (10) below, however, we can see it with an ACC NP object. 10.

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While the classification of (10) above is straightforward: a transitive verb with a direct object in the accusative case, no classification is available for the usage exhibited in (7c). Note, moreover, that one cannot ignore the fact that while structures without complement, as discussed by Visser (cf. (1) above), fall into several very different subtypes depending on what other structure a given verb can be found in, it seems right that the same be done for structures with a direct object. In other words, should a transitive verb with a direct object always be classified at its face value, unlike structures without complement, or should one rather consider what other structures the verb can appear in? The last verb quoted in (7) to be discussed here is teolian/tilian ‘to strive, attempt’. In (7d) it is complemented with a non-finite clause, so no classification is available for it from Visser or Mitchell. In (11a) below the complement clause is finite (still unclassified), while in (11b) the verb has no complement at all, which, in view of the fact that in (11c) it is accompanied with an ACC object (transitive verb with a direct object, i.e. 2d), indicates that it should be classified as an absolute use of a transitive verb (1d). Interestingly, the information supplied for this verb by B&T is that accusative is only one of the three available Cases for the NP object of this verb, which renders the above classification of (11b) unsuitable. 11. (a)

(b)

(c)

In sum, we have just analysed four different types of verbs with one object, shown in (7) above. The discussion that followed indicates that classifying OE verbs with one object according to the category of the object, in the way shown in Table 10.1 above is erroneous. This conclusion becomes especially clear if we classify other structures13 recorded with the very same verbs, as shown in Table 10.2 above.

13

It has to be emphasised, however, that the presentation of structures possible with the relevant verbs given in (8)–(11) is not exhaustive. It is merely intended to show that viewing OE verbs in such “static” terms is incorrect.

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Table 10.2 Classification of other structures recorded with the verbs from (7) Verb Structure, Ex. No. Structure, Ex. No. Structure, Ex. No. Structure, Ex. No. wiþsacan NP-ACC (7a) NP-ACC/DAT/GEN finite CLAUSE no object (8c) (8a) (8b) cidan PP (7b) no object (5a) NP-DAT (6a) PP + finite CLAUSE (9) NP-ACC (6b) tocnawan Finite CLAUSE NP-ACC (10) (7c) tilian Non-finite finite CLAUSE (11a) no object (11b) NP-ACC (11) CLAUSE (7d)

To further strengthen the point made above that OE verbs should be classified with great caution, we would like to point out the fact that if one selectively considered only the italicised structures given in Table 10.2 above, the very same verbs which are classified as different in Tables 10.1 and 10.2 would end up in the same class: verbs with an ACC object. While partly true, this classification in itself would answer no more questions than the one given in Table 10.2, or, for that matter, any other classification that we can easily make up from the variety of the data given in Table 10.2. One important conclusion transpires from this discussion: a classification of OE verbs requires a more holistic approach to the structures available with a given verb.

10.4

Conclusion

In sum, whatever traditional descriptions based on the actual usage of a given verb we apply, we fail. If we take verbs with no complement, as the ones given in (5) above, we can see that some of them can never be used with an object, while others can appear with a wide range of object types, to the effect that one and the same verb would have to be classified as intransitive, monotransitive or even ditransitive, to say nothing of the available subtypes. If we consider verbs with one object, as the ones exemplified in (7), we can see that they can be found in absolute uses and in ditransitive usages of various types as well. The same applies to ditransitives, which have not been discussed here: verbs which appear in ditransitive structures can easily be shown in a variety of other constructions, ranging from intransitive through monotransitive to various types of ditransitives in the case of one and the same verb (cf. Charzyn´ska-Wo´jcik in prep. b). One obvious conclusion that follows from the above discussion is that classifying verbs on the basis of particular usages does not make sense for OE. In other words, OE requires a different approach to verb classes. It would be more accurate to classify particular structures, i.e. a set of usages of a given verb with individual classifications for each usage. However, pure cataloguing of the different structures available with a given verb (in Ogura’s manner) does not result in a broader picture of the syntax of a particular verb. What we need is a classification resulting from the study of variation allowed by a

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particular verb. The question that poses itself at this point is the following: is there any guiding principle behind all this variation? In other words, is the variation predictable in any way? Is the optionality coded in the syntax of OE, or is it lexically determined for individual verbs? Some attempts at accounting for this property of the syntax of OE verbs can be seen in Charzyn´ska-Wo´jcik (2002, 2008, 2010, in prep.a), where it is shown that at least some variation can be reduced to a common denominator. In particular, Charzyn´ska-Wo´jcik (2002) explores the variation between nominal and Clausal Themes exhibited by OE Experiencer verbs. What transpires from the study of the co-occurrence of individual Experiencer verbs in various construction types is that the expression of the Theme argument (as an NP or a CLAUSE) does not have to be lexically specified for each verb. Instead, we note that the variation is present if the meaning of a verb is compatible with a clausal Theme. In Charzyn´ska-Wo´jcik (2008) it is shown that Clausal Themes of ditransitive verbs with DAT Recipients are in variation with nominal Themes in a way which, again, suggests that the category of the Theme need not be pre-specified, i.e. the Theme can be realised as a CLAUSE or an NP by one and the same verb as long as the meaning of the verb is compatible with a clausal Theme. This line of reasoning is continued in Charzyn´ska-Wo´jcik (2010), where it is argued that this approach is applicable to all types of clausal ditransitive verbs and has important consequences for other types of verbs which allow a clausal Theme. The issue is further expanded in Charzyn´ska-Wo´jcik (in prep. a.), where oneobject verbs and prepositional ditransitive verbs are shown to exhibit variation in the expression of its arguments. The variation exhibited by the above verb types is, again, largely predictable from the semantics of the verb. These works, however, only deal with variation between a CLAUSE and an NP rather than structural variation in general. All, however, point to the same conclusion as far as this aspect of variation is concerned: the co-occurrence of clausal and nominal constituents is predictable from the semantics of the verb. The above conclusions apply to only one type of variation, yet they certainly open up a new perspective on OE verbs. Answers to the questions posed in this paper require much further research: as ever, much less work is necessary to show a particular concept – in this case the classifications of OE verbs – to be deficient for a given language or construction than to propose a new accurate account. We hope, however, to have argued conclusively in favour of a necessity for a new approach to OE verbs.

References Ardern, P.S. 1948. First readings in Old English. Wellington. (rev) Cambridge 1953. B&T ¼ Bosworth, J. and T. N. Toller. 1898. An Anglo-Saxon dictionary based on the manuscript collections of the Late Joseph Bosworth, edited and enlarged by T. N. Toller. London: Oxford University Press. Available at: http://lexicon.ff.cuni.cz/texts/oe_bosworthtoller_about.html.

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BTs ¼ An Anglo-Saxon dictionary based on the manuscript collections of the Late Joseph Bosworth. Supplement, by T. N. Toller. London: Oxford University Press. Available at: http://lexicon.ff.cuni.cz/texts/oe_bosworthtoller_about.html. Charzyn´ska-Wo´jcik, M. 2002. The syntax of Old English Experiencer verbs. SKY Journal of Linguistics 15: 31–60. Charzyn´ska-Wo´jcik, M. 2008. Clausal ditransitive verbs in Old English. In Language encounters, eds. M. Charzyn´ska-Wo´jcik, A. Malicka-Kleparska and J. Wo´jcik, 103–114. Lublin: Towarzystwo Naukowe KUL. Charzyn´ska-Wo´jcik, M. 2010. The syntax of Old English clausal ditransitive verbs. Verb structures: Between phonology and morphosyntax, eds. E. Cyran and B. Szymanek, 75–109 Lublin: Wydawnictwo KUL. Charzyn´ska-Wo´jcik, M. in prep. a. The ca(u)se for a clause. Charzyn´ska-Wo´jcik, M. in prep. b. In-, mono- and ditransitive verbs in Old English and how they all fit in. DOECEF ¼ Dictionary of Old English corpus in electronic form, ed. di Paolo Healey, A. Distributed by the Oxford Text Archive. Mitchell, B. 1985. Old English syntax. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Ogura, M. 1995. Verbs in Medieval English: Differences in verb choice in verse and prose. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Pei, M. and F. Gaynor. 1954. A dictionary of linguistics. New York. Quirk, R. and C. L. Wrenn. 1958. An Old English grammar. (2nd edition.) London. Visser. F.Th. 1963–1973. An historical syntax of the English language. Brill: Leiden.

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Chapter 11

The Semantic Analysis of Old English unnan Agnieszka Wawrzyniak

Abstract The aim of the present paper is to draw the semantic profile of unnan. According to the Anglo-Saxon Dictionary (BT, sv. unnan), unnan denoted the following senses: (a) ‘to wish’, (b) ‘to be pleased with’, (c) ‘to grant’. One of the most crucial factors in the profile of unnan was the semantic path of the verb. Namely, the general development did not proceed from the concrete to the abstract but the process was reverse. One can observe a change from the abstract sense ‘permission based on wish’ to the concrete one ‘to grant’. In other words, what takes place is not the growth in the abstractness of meaning but progressive concretization. The paper focuses on the intermediate stages in the development from the former sense ‘permission based on wish’ to the latter one ‘to grant’ such as conceptual shift of a subject, conventionalisation of conversational implicature, as well as defocusing of the divine referential object and its replacement by a human referential object. Furthermore, the analysis will also show morphological forms in which either the new sense or the former one was central. Moreover, the study tries to account for the semantic factors which contributed to the absence of epistemic senses in unnan.

11.1

Introduction

According to the Anglo-Saxon Dictionary, unnan (BT, sv. unnan) is related to Icel. unna whose meaning was ‘to grant, allow, bestow’ as well as ‘to love, to bestow one’s love on a person’. Another cognate is Goth anst denoting joy, thanks, grace, favour. The common Indo-european root for unnan, unna and anst is ans, which A. Wawrzyniak (*) Adam Mickiewicz University, Poznan´, Poland e-mail: [email protected] M. Pawlak and J. Bielak (eds.), New Perspectives in Language, Discourse and Translation Studies, Second Language Learning and Teaching, DOI 10.1007/978-3-642-20083-0_11, # Springer-Verlag Berlin Heidelberg 2011

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according to Pokorny (1959) (sv. ans) means ‘wohlgeneigt, gunstig sein’, i.e. ‘to be favourable’. Following the Anglo-Saxon Dictionary (BT, sv. unnan), unnan denoted the following senses: (a) ‘to grant’, (b) ‘to be pleased with’, (c) ‘to wish’. Before starting the analysis of individual morphological forms to indicate semantic discrepancies between them, the first step will be to analyse the general concept of unnan and the mechanisms involved in the process of evolving the sense ‘to grant’. Unlike most verbs where the path of a change proceeds from the concrete to the abstract (Goossens 1987; Traugott 1989; Sweetser 1990; Koivisto Alanko 2000; Barcelona 2003; Radden 2003; Cruse 2004), unnan reflects a reverse shift, namely from the abstract to the concrete. To begin with, unnan exemplifies a concept whose initial meaning was not concrete but abstract, i.e. not ‘to grant’ but ‘to wish/permit’ (permission based on someone’s wish). Hence, the semantic path did not proceed from the more concrete sense (to grant) to a more abstract one (to wish/permit), but in the opposite direction. The abstract meaning was the primary one and acted as a basis for the development of the concrete sense ‘to grant’, which resulted in the absence of abstract senses in unnan. The reasons underlying this assumption are the following. The analysis of the Old English (henceforth OE) data shows that the sense of unnan when rendered as permission/wish does not need another co-referential verb. It is the verb itself that evokes such associations. When, however, unnan denotes the idea of granting, it is mostly in a set phrase with willan, whose meaning was ‘to be willing’. The frequent connotations of willan and unnan to denote the sense of granting indicate that this sense was a later development as the verb itself could not render this concept on its own. Moreover, the collocation willan + unnan evokes initially the association that it is the speaker’s wish to grant. Though gravitating towards the independent status, the above phrase makes unnan contingent on another verb, willan, whose semantics evokes attributes which were initially denoted by unnan and later implied, namely ‘wish, favour, willingness’. Consequently, the sense ‘to grant’ is bound with the association it is the speaker’s wish to act so. Even though there were contexts where ann (first person singular present) appeared also without the co-referential verb willan, its concept remained unchanged. In other words, the subject granted some entity because he wished to do so. Granting, then, always evoked positive associations. There were no contexts recorded in the Toronto Corpus where the subject granted some entity against his own will. In other words, the idea of a wish was entrenched in the semantics of unnan so that it no longer needed another verb which evoked similar, pleasant associations. Nevertheless, at a certain point of time, when unnan started to develop a new sense, it often needed co-referential elements. Except for willan, another set phrase recorded in the analysed texts is ann mid unne, where unne denoted will, wish, pleasure (BT, sv. unne). Such phrases, which were not conceived as tautologous by the speakers of OE were indicative of two linguistic factors. Firstly, ann developed a new sense, which

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was viewed as distinct from the noun unne. Secondly, it implied similar semantic attributes in the sense that granting was always contingent on the speaker’s wish to act so. The attributes of both interplayed and gave rise to semantically harmonic expressions. Another argument that underlies the path of development from the abstract sense ‘will’, ‘wish’, ‘permission’ to the concrete one ‘to grant’ is that the latter sense was used as the only one in the first person singular present, and scarcely in the past. In other forms, the earlier meaning ‘wish’ or ‘permission based on wish’ was expressed. One can trace the semantics of unnan on its way to the emergence of the sense of granting. It should be emphasised that the roles of both the speaker and the addressee should be analysed in the path of the development. In the first stage, the primary sense was ‘to wish/permit’. There is a speaker and his subjective wish. The speaker voices his/her wish, or rather permission based on the wish. The idea of granting is conceptually more complex, though it could be conceived as originating from permission. While the concept of permission needs only an individual expressing his/her wish, the concept of granting involves the individual’s wish and some authority’s readiness/willingness to accept it in positive terms. Therefore, conceptually, the sense of granting evokes the individual and the addressee. One could even claim that the process of granting, though initiated by the individual, shifts the point of reference and puts a greater conceptual weight on the addressee while the initial subject recedes into the background. Consequently, the change from the sense ‘permission/wish’ to the sense ‘to grant’ should also be viewed in terms of a change of the conceptual subject, as it is no longer the individual who is in the centre, but the addressee, who is willing to grant, thereby reflecting the speaker’s wish. The mechanism accounting for the shift of conceptual subjects, and hence for the shift in meaning, seems to be the mechanism of conventionalisation of conversational implicature. It should be emphasised that the discourse type accompanying unnan was of a different nature. Namely, it did not take place between two interlocutors but between the individual (speaker) and God. The speaker voices his/her wish. He cannot hear God and may only conceptually project his response. The speaker asks God to realise his/her wish. He strongly believes that God will act accordingly. If the speaker says: if you are willing to permit, this may imply you will do it. Therefore, the conventionalisation of conversational implicature that was present in the mind of the speaker each time he/she stated his/her wish could lead to the gradual change in meaning. The transfer that takes place and leads to the gradual change in meaning is metonymic in nature, where the result stands for the cause. Thus, the result corresponds to the final effect of a wish, hence the sense of granting, while the cause corresponds to a wish for the event to be fulfilled. Therefore, the emergence of the sense ‘to grant’ in the first person originated in discourse situations, from the speaker’s wish of implementation of his/her requests, via the conventionalisation of conversational implicature based on a metonymic link - result for the cause. The consequence is the shift of the conceptual subjects. Ann gradually acquires conceptual independence, yet such attributes as a wish or willingness are still present in its conceptual network, as the implications evoked by ann are always positive for both the person who

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grants as well as for the individual whose wish is fulfilled by having received the gift. Moreover, another aspect that affected the shift in meaning is the shift in the degree of abstractness. When God was conceptualised as a point of reference, the attributes He could give were abstract ones, such as happiness, life in eternity, peace, etc. Therefore, the interpretation of such instances gravitated towards the permission sense, where God permits to live eternally rather than gives such a life. Such contexts presupposed humbleness of the speaker, the greatness of the Almighty God, and abstract, intangible ideas. The replacement, however, of divine object by a human being resulted in a subsequent shift in meaning from the sense ‘to permit’ to the sense ‘to grant’. At that point, abstract, intangible ideas were substituted for by concrete entities, such as lands and territories. When a human was conceptualised as a source of gifts, the entities he could give were never abstract but highly concrete. Furthermore, the range of gifts was narrow as it could be either land or legal rights. Therefore, one could say that the sense ‘to permit’ was related to God, as a source of a gift, and abstract soul-directed attributes, while the sense ‘to grant’ presupposes a human as a source of a gift, and concrete, tangible, entities limited in scope. The borderline between the two senses seems rather blurred as it is related to the level of abstractness. In other words, soul-directed attributes gave rise to the sense ‘permission’ rather than ‘give’, which is related to concrete entities. The present analysis is based on the Toronto Corpus compiled by Antonette di Paolo Healey (1986). The Corpus is an online database consisting of about 3 million words of OE. The study presents a quantitative approach based on detailed statistics of particular senses. In order to achieve maximum accuracy, unnan was analysed in all the attested contexts in the Toronto Corpus. Nevertheless, one should take into account the fact that however detailed and accurate the corpus is, it may not always reflect the semantic reality of the distant past. The data can thus be distorted as not all the texts that were written down in the OE period are preserved in the corpora. Consequently, the semantic analysis of the profile of unnan may be more of a corpus artifact rather than a reflection of the actual semantics of unnan in the Anglo-Saxon period. Yet, corpora are valuable sources of information for the early stages in the history of a language. Consequently, one can hope that its contents reflect, to a certain extent, the semantic reality of unnan in the AngloSaxon period. The study concentrates on the three subperiods within the Anglo-Saxon period and covers the following time span, which was semantically conditioned. – Stage I – 900 – Stage II – the end of 900 and the beginning of 1,000 – Stage III – 1,000 It should be emphasised that the earlier studies (Campbell 1959; Lightfoot 1979; Mitchell 1985; Warner 1999) were based on either syntactic or morphological rather than semantic criteria. The present study is not based on the assumptions postulated by linguists concentrating on syntax or morphology and thereby neglecting the

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semantic study of lexical units. Instead, it will emphasise the role of meaning and the gradual changes in the concept of unnan.

11.2

The Semantic Analysis of the Infinitive unnan

The semantic analysis of unnan records three instances dated to the 10c and two to the 11c. Yet, despite the time span of one century, there seems to be no progress in the development of the conceptual content of the infinitive. All the analysed instances are recorded in a set phrase with willan. Moreover, four of them are related to abstract attributes, i.e. they give rise to the sense of permission. However, there is one instance, where the direct object of unnan is a concrete entity (oars), which allows the sense ‘to give/grant’, yet the recorded instance is dated to the 10c. Consequently, such a statement should be viewed as a rare instance rather than a step in the development of the sense ‘to grant’. The prototypical meaning of the infinitive was the permission sense, recorded in a set phrase with willan: permission sense in a fixed phrase. 1. He wæs æwicsmod, hyhtaleas, ac se halga wer ælda gehwylces unnan wolde þæt he blædes brucan moste, worulde lifes. (Guthlac: Krapp and Dobbie 1936, 44–88) ‘He was disgraced in mind, in despair, but the holy man, to everybody, wanted to permit that he would enjoy the glory of worldly life.’ 2. Ða antswarede heo þam engle and þus cwæþ, ic gyrnen wolde gif hit mægþ wære þæt hit gyrnan durste þæt ure drihten me unnan wolde þæt ic þa halga rode iseon moste. (Invention of the Cross: Napier 1894, 2–34) ‘She answered to the angel: I would yearn, if it were allowed that I would dare to yearn so that Our God allowed me to see the holy Cross.’ The Toronto Corpus records one context where unnan is juxtaposed with a concrete entity, thereby allowing the sense ‘to give/grant’. 3. Him ondswarode engla þeoden: We eow aras ofer yþbold unnan willaþ. (Andreas: Krapp 1932a, 3–51) ‘The highest of angels answered him: We are willing to give you oars across the shipside.’ However, the analysis of the above sentence shows that the meaning ‘to give’ is the consequence of the permission received thereby denoting further implications besides the apparent surface meaning ‘to give’. Firstly, the speaker is an angel rather than a human being. Thus, the act of giving should be interpreted as permission to survive, and hence to live. Consequently, the religious sense ‘to give’ evoked a different dimension where it was linked at some conceptual level with the permission sense. Contrariwise, the study of ann will exemplify a secular context where ann denotes the only sense – ‘to give/grant’.

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The Semantic Analysis of Present Forms

11.3.1 The Semantic Analysis of ann The semantic analysis of ann in the first person singular yields the following senses: 11c – Grant (land) 12 (52%) – Grant (rights) 4 (17%) – Set phrases 7 (31%)

The above analysis leads to the following conclusions. To begin with, ann in the first person is recorded only in the 11c. Moreover, its central meaning was ‘to give/ grant’. However, the range of entities that could be the subject of granting was narrow. Namely, it was either land or rights that were linked with ann. The Toronto Corpus records 52% (12 cases) of contexts which convey the meaning ‘to grant land’, and 17% (4 cases) which denote ‘to grant rights’. Additionally, ann collocates frequently with willan, which indicates that the link with the former sense was preserved at some layer. The analysis documents 7 cases (31%) of fixed phrases, 6 of which are recorded with the verb willan (ic wille and ic ann), and one with the phrase mid unne (ic ann mid filre unne), all of which are related to the property of land. Furthermore, the context for ann is always secular and appears only in legal documents, such as wills and transfers of property. 4. And ic ann Æþelwolde bisceope þæs lændes. (Will of Ælgifu, Sawyer 1484: Whitelock 1930, no. 8) ‘And I grant the land to Athelwold.’ 5. Ic ann Leofstane Leofwines bre¯þer þære land þe ic of his bre¯þer nam. (Will of Ætheling Athelstan, Sawyer 1503: Whitelock 1930, no. 20) ‘I grant to Leofstan Leofwine’s brother the land I took from his brother.’ 6. Ic ann heom þæt hie habben þer to fullne freodom saca and socna. (Writ of King Edward, Coventry, Sawyer 1098: Harmer 1952, no. 45) ‘I grant the full freedom of jurisdiction.’ 7. Ic ann mid fulre unne þa ilca gife. (Writ of King Edward, Coventry, Sawyer 1098: Harmer 1952, no. 45) ‘I grant with full consent the same gift.’ 8. Ic cyþþe eow þæt ic wille and ic ann þæt Sancte Peter and þa gebroþra habben þa cotlif mid eallum þam landum. (Writ of King Edward, Coventry, Sawyer 1098: Harmer 1952, no. 46) ‘I let you know that I am willing and I grant to Saint Peter and his brothers the dwelling with all lands.’ Thus, the sense of granting land is conceptualised in sentences (4), (5), that of rights in (6), while fixed expressions are exemplified in sentences (7), (8).

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The semantic analysis of ann in the third person singular indicates that such contexts were scarcely recorded when compared with the first person singular. The Toronto Corpus records only three instances when the subject was the third person singular. Moreover, the first instance for ann in the third person singular is recorded in the 10c, and the two others in the 11c. The statement from the 10c denotes the sense of permission as it evokes God as a point of reference, and two other contexts from the 11c record the sense ‘to give/grant’. At that point one can notice that it was the first person, rather than the third one that gave rise to the new sense. Firstly, there were no contexts for ann in the first person before the 11c, while in the 11c its only meaning is ‘to grant’. Secondly, ann in the third person, though it was recorded only once in the 10c, acquires the meaning of permission, where God is the source of a gift. Moreover, ann in the third person is scarcely attested, when compared with ann in the first person. The senses of ann (third person singular) were as follows. – – –

To permit To grant To permit

10c 1 (100%) –

11c – 2 (100%)

9. Ic nat hwy he ne sy þara landa wyrþe gyf him heora God ann. (Archbishop Dunstan to King Æþelred, Sawyer 1296: Napier and Stevenson 1895, no. 7) ‘I do not know why he would not be worth of this land if God permits him to have it.’ 10. Heo ann into ealdan mynster þæs landes. (Willof Ælgifu, Sawyer 1484: Whitelock 1930, no. 8) ‘She grants the land to the old mynster.’

11.3.2 The Semantic Analysis of unnon The analysis of unnon (first person plural) records two instances which are dated to the 11c. No contexts are documented before the 11c. The meaning of unnon (first person plural) is the same for the two instances, and denotes ‘to permit’. 11. And we þæt nu swyþe eadmodlice unnon. (Letter to Bishop Denewulf, Sawyer 1444: Birch 1885–1999, no. 619) ‘And that is what we humbly permit.’ 12. Ðæt is þæt we hit unnon on Godes ast and Sancta Maria and þæs halagan were. (Ælfweard, Abbot of Evesham, to Æthelmær, Sawyer 1423: Robertson 1956, no. 81) ‘That is what we permitted for the love of God and Mary and the holy man.’ The analysis of unnon (third person plural) records only one instance dated to the 11c with the sense “to wish”. 13. Ða þe me yfeles unnon (Headings to Psalms 1–50: Thorpe 1835, 1–128) ‘Those who wish me evil’

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11.4

The Semantic Analysis of Past Forms

11.4.1 The Semantic Analysis of uþe The analysis of uþe related to the first person singular reveals only one instance, dated to the 11c, with the sense ‘to grant’. 14. Ic uþe þara ylca lande Eadmund cyninge. (Writ of King Edward, Westminster, Sawyer 1150: Harmer 1952, no. 106) ‘I granted land to king Edmund.’ The analysis of uþe indicates that almost all contexts, except for the one mentioned above, were recorded with the third person pronoun. One can thus notice the discrepancy between uþe and ann. Ann was most frequently attested with the first person, while uþe with the third person, which entails semantic consequences. The Toronto corpus records the following senses of uþe (third person singular). – – – –

Give/permit Wish/please Fixed phrases (swa God uþe) Permission

10c 1 (100%) – – –

10/11c – 1 (50%) – 1 (50%)

11c 3 (18%) 4 (26%) 8 (50%) 1 (6%)

The analysis shows that uþe was typically used with the third person pronoun. In the time span 10/11–11c uþe in the first person was recorded once, while uþe in the third person 20 times. As the process of the development of the new sense ‘to grant’ started in the first person pronoun, from which it started to spread to other pronouns, the past form uþe records more senses imbued with permission. Hence, one can notice a discrepancy in the development of the first and the third person pronouns. Furthermore, even though the sense ‘to grant’ is recorded in 18% of all contexts, the entities that are subject to granting are not as concrete as in the first person. Namely, no contexts involve land, which was mostly documented in the first person. Instead, the entities recorded in the analysis which were subject to granting were legal rights, dwelling places and even one abstract attribute – help. 15. Æfter his dæge he nanum menn sel ne uþe þonne me. (Will of King Alfred, Sawyer 1507: Harmer 1914, no. 11) ‘After his days, he did not give better to anybody but me.’ 16. Uþe is swiþor ic hine sylfne geseon moste. (Saint Margaret: Herbst 1957, 62–82) ‘I would be more pleased if I could see him.’ 17. Isaias geseah on gesyhþe, swa him God uþe, hu þære þeode for heora synnum sceolde gelimpan. (Saint Giles: Dictionary of Old English transcript, Corpus Christi College, MS.303)

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‘Isaias saw, the way God wished, how these people should repent for their sins.’ permission 18. God heom uþe lisse and miltse. (In Letania maiore: Tristram 1970, 430–37) ‘God gave him/permitted him grace.’

11.4.2 The Semantic Analysis of uþon The semantic analysis of uþon records no instances in the first person and two instances in the third person. The analysed contexts are from the 11c and denote the sense ‘to wish/be pleased’ and ‘to grant’: 19. Ða bead he heom feos and landes gif hie him þæs rices uþon. (Oxford, Bodleian Library, MS. Land Misc. 636: Plummer 1892–9) ‘He asked them for wealth and land if they could give him that.’ 20. Ða ne dorste se hym þæs wurnan ac cwæþon hy þæs wel uþon gyf sy cing and se biscop þæs geuþon. (The Community at Sherborne to Edmund Ætheling, Sawyer 1422: Robertson 1956, no. 74) ‘He did not dare refuse him that and said that they would be much pleased if the king and the bishop permitted that.’

11.5

Conclusions

To conclude, the development of the sense ‘to grant’ was morphologically conditioned. The sense ‘to grant’ was the prototypical one in the first person present and past indicative, while the sense ‘to permit’ and ‘to wish’ was retained as the central one in the third person present and past indicative. Moreover, the study has indicated that unnan in the present tense was most frequently attested with the first person, while in the past tense in the third person. Finally, the newly developed concrete sense ‘to grant’, which emerged in the 11c presupposed a narrower range of objects (land or rights) than the earlier meaning ‘to permit’, whose range of objects it could be semantically linked with was unlimited. Consequently, its new meaning became more concrete and narrower.

References Barcelona, A. 2003. On the possibility of claiming a metaphoric motivation for a conceptual metaphor. In Metaphor and metonymy at the cross-roads. A cognitive perspective, ed. A. Barcelona, 31–58. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Bosworth, J. and N. Toller. 1882. An Anglo-Saxon dictionary. London: Clarendon Press. Campbell, A. 1959. Old English grammar. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Cruse, D. A. 2004. Meaning in language. An introduction to semantics and pragmatics. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

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Goossens, L. 1987. The auxiliarisation of the English modals. In Historical development of auxiliaries, ed. M. Harris and P. Ramat, 111–143. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Healey, A. di Paolo ed. 1986. Dictionary of Old English corpus. Toronto: The University of Toronto Press. Koivisto Alanko, P. 2000. Abstract words in abstract worlds. Helsinki: Societe Neophilologique. Lightfoot, D. 1979. Principles of diachronic syntax. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Mitchel, B. 1985. Old English syntax. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Pokorny, J. 1959. Indogermanisches etymologisches worterbuch. Bern: Francke. Radden, G. 2003. How metonymic are metaphors. In Metaphor and metonymy at the cross-roads. A cognitive perspective, ed. A. Barcelona, 92–108. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Sweetser, Eve. 1990. From etymology to pragmatics. Metaphorical and cultural aspects of semantic structure. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Traugott, E. C. 1989. On the rise of epistemic meaning in English: An example of subjectification in semantic change. Language 12: 31–55. Warner, A. 1999. English auxiliaries: Structure and history. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Part IV

Pragmatics, Discourse Analysis and Sociolinguistics

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Chapter 12

“When We Talk, It Never Materializes”: Functions of Off-Record Communication in Conflict Talk Joanna Bobin

Abstract Drawing on the recent contribution to the studies on linguistic impoliteness (Bousfield 2008), this chapter aims at examining and describing the role of “the inarticulate” in interpersonal conflict, with particular attention devoted to the dynamics of conflictive exchanges. “The inarticulate” is by all means a non-academic term referring to a range of off-record strategies such as silence, “wordy silence”, i.e. “a torrent of words that are not addressing the true issue” (Tannen 1990), white lies, compassionate untruths, concealments, speaking in quotes, etc. Understanding what is meant but not said involves a necessity to work out implicatures, but how easy is it to retrieve speaker intention in conflict situations? In light of the study of mental context in interaction (Kopytko 2002), one may attempt to identify the impact of the cognitive, affective and conative states and processes on the expression and perception of the above mentioned (non)verbal behaviors. With regard to conflict dynamics, the presentation will consider the emerging doubts about the Cooperative Principle; namely: is it always necessary to keep talking? Given the role of the mental context, how uncooperative is “the inarticulate”? Following the recent interest in discourse stylistics, especially in the relatively uncharted analysis of dramatic dialogues, the author will select conflictive exchanges between family members from modern American plays, e.g. by Eugene O’Neill, Tennessee Williams or Arthur Miller.

J. Bobin (*) State School of Higher Professional Education, Gorzo´w Wielkopolski, Poland e-mail: [email protected] M. Pawlak and J. Bielak (eds.), New Perspectives in Language, Discourse and Translation Studies, Second Language Learning and Teaching, DOI 10.1007/978-3-642-20083-0_12, # Springer-Verlag Berlin Heidelberg 2011

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Off-record communication, or “the inarticulate” is used as a term covering various forms of indirect communication. In a conversation, and in this case, in a conflictive exchange, indirectness serves different functions and may be as meaningful as direct expression. After all, sometimes what is not said is more important for an interaction than what actually is said. What indirect expressions, or “inarticulacies”, often indicate in conflict is repressed emotional intensity rather than lack of involvement and non-commitment.

12.2

Grice’s Cooperative Principle

The most convenient framework for considering indirectness seems to be Grice’s Cooperative Principle (the CP). Grice suggests four maxims and a number of submaxims that the CP subsumes: Maxim of Quantity, Quality, Relevance and Manner (1975: 45–46). The first three categories are related to what people say, and the fourth – Maxim of Manner – to how they say it, therefore, this aspect of the CP will include non-verbal, prosodic and paralinguistic information (Bousfield 2008: 22). In brief, the CP assumes interactants to give exactly as much information as is necessary, and make sure it is true, relevant and expressed efficiently. However, it is fairly obvious that people do not always (or, in fact, rarely) abide by the maxims, yet they are understood. Grice (1975: 49) lists four forms of transgression of the maxims, of which flouting – or an intentional, blatant failure to observe a maxim – has greatest significance for conflict analysis. Due to the assumption that the overall CP is nevertheless being observed (conversations reflect some rational structure, rather than being disconnected), and with the help of contextual clues, a flout generates conversational implicature and is a possible vehicle for the expression of impolite beliefs (Bousfield 2008: 23). At the rational level, this assumption “allows the audience to detect what the speaker is conversationally implicating but not explicitly saying” (Lumsden 2008: 1897) under one condition that Grice clarifies: that the hearer must be able to work out the implicature.

12.3

Flouting the Maxims: Off-Record Communication

Mooney (2004: 905) notes that maxims “help to understand interactions not only when followed, but also when they are not”. Consequently, off-record communication in the form of indirectness contributes as much meaning to an exchange as direct communication (observing Gricean maxims in this case). Brumark (2006: 1207) remarks that “from a Gricean perspective, indirect speech may be explained as more or less deliberate non-observance of the maxims requesting one to be as informative, brief, relevant and adequate as appropriate to a given situation”.

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12.3.1 Reasons for Going Off-Record: Politeness One reason why people resort to indirectness is the regard of face: e.g. the want to minimize negative face threat (cf. Brown and Levinson’s (1987) negative face wants), with strategies such as the following: be conventionally indirect, don’t presume/assume (question, hedge), impersonalize (Brown and Levinson 1987: 131). In the face framework, a face threatening act (FTA) may be performed off record, that is “typically through the deployment of an indirect illocutionary act which has more than one interpretation and, thus, allows for plausible deniability on the part of the utterer if the intended recipient takes offence at the face threat inherent in the utterance” (Bousfield 2008: 58). So while face threat is communicated, the implicature may easily be cancelled, and even more, the FTA itself may not be recognized. In terms of Gricean maxims, off-record FTAs are performed in the form of the following linguistic strategies: those which generate conversational implicatures, e.g. give hints, give association rules, presuppose (violating Relevance Maxim), understate, overstate, use tautologies (violating Quantity Maxim), use contradictions, be ironic, use metaphors, use rhetorical questions (violating Quality Maxim); and those that violate the Maxim of Manner: be vague, be ambiguous, over-generalize, displace H, be incomplete, use ellipsis (ibid.; Locher 2004).1 These strategies are mostly used in order to mitigate face threat (although the function of e.g. irony is debatable, as it may also be faceaggravating). Off-record is the weakest strategy for performing FTAs and often constitutes violating rather than flouting (unostentatious). Off-record FTAs, despite conveying impolite beliefs, are “redressed” not by strategies of politeness but by the very fact that their form aims to mitigate face threat.

12.3.2 Reasons for Going Off-Record: Impoliteness Therefore, off-record impoliteness will often be present in interpersonal conflict. It is defined as a strategy in which “the FTA is performed by means of implicature but in such a way that one attributable intention clearly outweighs any others” (Culpeper 2005: 44); with a sub-strategy of mock politeness, an obviously insincere “polite behavior”, linguistically realized as e.g. sarcasm. Bousfield (2008: 95) presents a slightly modified definition of off-record impoliteness, adding “withholding politeness where it is expected” as a sub-strategy. The danger of not being understood (though still existent) is minimized, as impoliteness in general is a framework which assumes intentionality of offense; thus, given the larger context, it should be possible to reconstruct that intention. It is a useful framework considering the fact that another reason for going off-record may be to increase the force of implicature

1

Bousfield (2008) in fact suggests that off-record FTAs should be assigned redressive strategies as well, since they are equally face-directed as on-record utterances.

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(Brumark 2006). In some contexts, the offense communicated indirectly may increase the force of the message. The strongest, unmistakably “attributable intention” carries an impolite belief and hostile intention, thus communicating impoliteness (superiority, scorn, disagreement, criticism etc.) may clearly be recognized for example by a third party as well as the addressee. Alternatively, an indirect impolite expression may aim to reinforce its implicit message when ‘normal’, direct utterances are ineffective. Brumark (2006: 1211) notes that this function seems “especially common in asymmetrical but intimate situations, such as family discourse”.

12.4

Context and the Cooperative Principle

The interpretation of utterances that do not conform to the maxims may sometimes be troublesome: what is as informative as required for one interactant does not have to be the same for another; the same may happen with deciding whether what is said is true, relevant and clear enough not to generate an implicature. Grice’s maxims are all relative, subject to how the speaker, hearer and analyst interpret the context of a given interaction. The key issue for conflict analysis is that of speaker intention. As Culpeper et al. (2003: 1552) put it, people “do not wear their intentions on their sleeves and one interlocutor does not have access to the internal states of other interlocutors”, but they also assume that given adequate evidence, plausible speaker intention can be reconstructed. That “adequate evidence” would include such features of context as e.g. social and discoursal roles, physical context, previous events (encounters), affect, power, rights and obligations, co-text and activity type. Having considered these (and other) contextual clues, the hearer is in the position to attribute specific intentions to the speaker at a given point of the conversation. Therefore, since implicatures are generated from different non-observances of the CP, all maxims and their breaches should be considered within context. However, there is always risk that it will be misunderstood – indirectness, in fact, requires more effort from the speaker (who risks “misfiring”) and hearer (who must be in a position to work out the implicature). The attribution of hostile intentions and offences, even if indirect, is of great importance for the study of conflict and its dynamics. In Grice’s framework, the operation of mental context is crucial as it constitutes the background knowledge which facilitates the interpretation of utterances: “Gricean language users share cognitive context, beliefs and background assumptions with their interlocutors and even more significantly they interpret meaning with the help of shared knowledge” (Kopytko 2002: 166). Kopytko (2002: 34) claims that “language is used in its cognitive, affective and conative context”, where the cognitive context is connected with knowledge structures and their accessibility to interactants, rationality, thinking, perceiving, attention and information processing; the affective context influences

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interaction through language users’ personality traits, needs, attitudes; and the conative context is associated with the interlocutors’ motivations and goals regulating their strategic use of language (ibid.: 35). This integrated cognitive-affective-conative system constitutes the mental (internal) context of language use. It is the conative context that is viewed as the speaker’s set of goals and motivations, and it is where speaker intention seems to originate.

12.5

The Cooperative Principle and “Cooperation”

For the purpose of conflict analysis, two important, though mutually exclusive interpretations of the Cooperative Principle put forward by linguists and interdisciplinary researchers should be discussed: social goal sharing and linguistic goal sharing. From the point of view of conflict researchers, cooperation as social goal sharing is impossible in language, as “conversation should immediately cease, or at the very least become highly problematical when ‘quarreling’ or other conflictive or impolite discourse begins to occur” (Bousfield 2008: 28). For impoliteness to occur, it has to be communicated and recognized as intentional. For conflict talk, an impolite utterance has to be replied to. As a consequence, large portions of everyday interaction would be deemed as uncooperative, rejecting the essence of Grice’s principle. Davies (2007: 2311) points to an ambiguity of presentation of the term cooperation in textbooks and papers, resulting in potentially problematic interpretations, where the general problem with these unclear uses of the term is ascribing the CP “qualities that are more appropriate to its non-technical sense: high levels of effort on the part of the speaker, perfect utterances, and avoidance of misunderstandings” (2311). Precisely because this is not the case, the CP ought to be taken as operating in terms of linguistic goal sharing. The notion of linguistic cooperation, as opposed to the everyday, “folk” understanding of the term cooperation, legitimizes the production and understanding of impolite and aggressive utterances in interaction. The Cooperative Principle as linguistic cooperation in fact renders conflictive exchanges quite cooperative. Bousfield (2008: 29) supports the view that the only goal of a given interaction is the transmission of information, and there are no other aims between interactants than “establishing the speaker’s illocutionary intent and getting the hearer(s) to understand the proposition which is being expressed or implied”. This happens regardless of whether the content of the utterance is “cooperative” or “uncooperative” in the “folk” sense of the term. The CP does not specify that the proposition expressed or implied must be polite, truthful or relevant; it only facilitates understanding of what is being expressed or implied, and has no connection with the speaker’s good intentions (Bousfield 2008). As an intended meaning can be conveyed directly as well as indirectly, and through countless different utterances, it is the role of context to help the hearer reconstruct the right one.

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Activity types are useful for analyses of interactions which are uncooperative from the perspective of social goal sharing, but which generate implicature and help establish plausible speaker intentions. Thomas (1995) suggests that an activity type comprises the following features: the goals of the participants (of the individuals rather than the event), allowable contributions (linguistic options constrained by social or legal frames), the degree to which Gricean maxims are adhered to or suspended (in some contexts, suspension of the maxims is more expected than in others, this is true of e.g. army discourse), the degree to which the interpersonal maxims are adhered to or suspended (some activity types anticipate inadherence to e.g. Leech’s Politeness Principle2), turn-taking and topic control (as a means of controlling and managing the interaction), and the manipulation of pragmatic parameters (or contextual variables, dependant on the participants’ discoursal roles) (Bousfield 2008: 172–173). To analyze conflictive exchanges in the framework of the Cooperative Principle, it should be assumed that they are instances of cooperation a rebours, where pragmatic principles (such as the Politeness Principle) are suspended.3 Thus, paradoxically, interactants cooperate in the violation of pragmatic principles, within the recognized activity type – conflict talk. Such exchanges are non-cooperative in that they do not lead to compromise or solution, but are destructive and hostile; however, interactants cooperate in conflict, so implicatures and intentions are correctly recognized.

12.6

Linguistic Output Strategies

Indirectness is a manner of communication that may flout different maxims. Different linguistic output strategies characteristic of conflict will count as breaches of different maxims. Some linguistic realizations of maxim non-observances are as follows: – Maxim of quantity: silences and pauses; could be flouts or violations, depending on the context; understatements, overstatements. – Maxim of quality: white lies, “compassionate untruths” (cf. Mandala 2007), these are, however, mostly instances of non-ostentatious violation (out of sympathy); rhetorical questions may count as flouts, depending on their presupposition; in terms of speech act theory, all acts where felicity conditions considering “proper thoughts and feelings” are not fulfilled, e.g. insincere apologies (cf. Lowe 1998). – Maxims of relation and quantity combined: “wordy silence”, i.e. torrents of words not addressing the issue, blatantly flouting the maxim (cf. Tannen 1990). 2

The Politeness Principle: Minimize the expression of impolite beliefs, maximize the expression of polite beliefs. It is further divided into submaxims of: Tact, Generosity, Approbation, Modesty, Agreement, Sympathy. 3 Kopytko, R. (personal communication, 2010).

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– Maxim of manner: irony and sarcasm (ambiguity); innuendo, speaking in quotes, abrupt changes of topic (obscurity), blatantly flouting the maxim. Each of these linguistic output strategies may indirectly communicates impolite beliefs (when they are instances of flouting, since violating has been classified as unostentatious).

12.6.1 Silence Silence has traditionally been associated with a “void”: lack of communication, lack of rapport and involvement, absence of cooperation (in terms of social goal sharing), “absence of speech, and absence of meaning and intention” (Ephratt 2008: 1910). Tannen (1985), however, highlights the pragmatic functions of silence, claiming that silence is “anything but” – that is, anything but void, lack, or absence. Ephratt (2008) examines the role of “eloquent silence” in discourse and finds that it suits Jakobson’s five functions of language: it may convey information, express emotions, perform speech acts, fulfill the poetic function, and be a means of maintaining contact and alliance. Eloquent silence, in Ephratt’s description, is an equivalent of speech. Eloquent silence is employed by the speaker to communicate a message and can appear in such circumstances as religious ceremonies, “moments of silence”, substituting taboo words, following rhetorical questions, terminating conversations, opting out of conversations; or can take the form of “the unsaid”: empty speech, metaphor, euphemism, substituting A for B, allusion (Ephratt 2008: 1912). Tannen (1990) concentrates on the role of silence as a tool for conflict management, and also finds that silence and speech (noise) can be functional equivalents, for example in managing strong, problematic emotions. Silences and pauses are treated here as actions, not as transitions between utterances. Silence does not represent an end of turn, but rather a climax, often signifying the most intense, damaging part of interaction. Similarly, a pause marks a character’s reaction to what was said, it shows that the character is feeling, thinking something but does not want to reveal what it is. Pauses and silences, Tannen observes, “prevent the conflict from exploding and destroying the possibility of continuing the relationship” (ibid.: 263). They mask strong, unstated feelings, but as the mask can be seen, it is at the same time revealing.

12.6.2 Understatement Understatement, for example in the form of a minimal response where a more elaborate one would be expected, is a flout of quantity maxim, and produces implicature of possibly impolite speaker intention. It may also take the form of understated criticisms or compliments, or deliberate overt downplaying the seriousness of an issue. Understatement implies a gap between what the speaker says

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and what is in fact to be taken as his point of view (Berntsen and Kennedy 1996). Understatement expresses an attitude: although expressed indirectly (as it is a figure of reduction), (3) below is a strong criticism. Example 1: Eugene O’Neill, Long Day’s Journey Into Night ([1955] 2002: 128) 1. EDMUND Ablaze with electricity! One bulb! Hell, everyone keeps a light on in the front hall until they go to bed. He rubs his knee. I damned near busted my knee on the hat stand. 2. TYRONE The light from here shows in the hall. You could see your way well enough if you were sober. 3. EDMUND If I was sober? I like that! In this excerpt, Edmund’s indirect criticism is expressed by prosodic features: he emphasizes “I” drawing attention to the fact that Tyrone is just as drunk, not saying it though. By merely stressing the pronoun, he retorts with an identical accusation.

12.6.3 Rhetorical Questions/Fallacious Questions In Douglas Walton’s (1999) model of fallacious questions such uncooperative questions are in fact intended to trick the respondent. They are a tactic of entrapment very common in everyday arguments. They are not asked to obtain information; they’re a means of attack as they’re asked in such a way that they don’t give options of answers. Needless to say, traps involve high face damage. Walton illustrates this theory with a classic “Have you lost your horns?” where whichever way you answer, you either admit that you have horns, or that you had them. It is so because the respondent is not committed to the presupposition of the question or to part of it. Presupposition of a question is defined as a proposition, an implicit assumption or a background belief that is presumed to be acceptable to the respondent when the question is asked. The respondent becomes committed to this proposition when he gives any direct answer (Walton 1999). Example 2: Arthur Miller, Death of a Salesman ([1947] 2006: 2021) 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

WILLY [turning away] Ah, you’re counting your chickens again. BIFF [starting left for the stairs] Oh, Jesus, I’m going to sleep! WILLY [calling after him] Don’t curse in this house! BIFF [turning] Since when did you get so clean? HAPPY [trying to stop them] Wait a. . . WILLY Don’t use that language to me! I won’t have it!

12.6.4 Wordy Silence Another type of maxim flout is the so-called “wordy silence”. It is also defined as a torrent of words that stands out against otherwise short turns. It is a smoke

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screen – it does not address the issue, so it flouts both the maxim of quantity and relation. The emotional load of such an outburst is directed at the hearer, but the contents are irrelevant. Being irrelevant, such an utterance receives no emotional response from the addressee, so there are no damaging consequences. Wordy silence as we hear it is an indication of the opposite – of what we do not hear (Tannen 1990). Example 3: Sam Shepard, Buried Child ([1977] 2006: 60) 1. DODGE (to VINCE) You could get me a bottle. (Pointing off left.) There’s money on the table. 2. VINCE Grandpa, why don’t you lay down for a while? 3. DODGE I don’t want to lay down for a while! Every time I lay down something happens! (Whips off his cap, points at his head.) Look what happens! That’s what happens! (Pulls his cap back on.) You go lay down and see what happens to you! See how you like it! They’ll steal your bottle! They’ll cut your hair! They’ll murder your children! That’s what’ll happen. They’ll eat you alive. In this example, Dodge’s response is not directed at his grandson Vince, but rather at his sons who are also present in this scene. It is an indirect form of (cancellable) attack; Dodge seems to be voicing his resentment at the treatment he receives from his sons – something that Vince is not involved in. Therefore (3) here contributes to the development of conflict between Dodge and his sons.

12.6.5 Irony and Sarcasm A relatively common pragmatic effect of maxim non-fulfillment is irony (saying one thing and meaning the opposite) and sarcasm (similar to irony, but with an intent to hurt), which Brumark classifies as “non-conventional indirect” utterances, whose implicit meaning not only differs from what is their locutionary content/ illocutionary force (as is the case with “conventional indirect” utterances), but also is even less transparent and even “more off record”, making them hardly understandable outside their particular context (2006: 1211). In family conflict, such off-record utterances – given their hostile speaker intention – may carry increased offensive force hidden under ambiguity. Irony and sarcasm need not posit threat to face, or be recognized as such. Brumark suggests that “indirect or implicit utterances often arise as spontaneous irony or sarcasm in most kinds of communication”, and they may have the same status as jokes in that they “rely on socio-culturally accepted norms and beliefs” (ibid.) and serve to strengthen in-group social bonds. In a case like this, however, they would be treated as banter (mock impoliteness), which does not contribute to the development of conflict (the context of strong positive ties between interlocutors would exclude such treatment of irony/sarcasm from the analysis of conflict).

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12.6.6 Innuendo Innuendo is a pragmatic act – a term which Mey (1993) uses to refer to various forms of indirect expression: hints, prompts, clues, which are used by interactants to influence each other. Bell (1997: 41) suggests three main features of pragmatic acts: they are non-overt, context-dependent and may be denied or ignored. Like indirect speech acts, innuendos have two layers of meaning: overt (or pseudo-overt, as it may comprise direct and indirect meaning) and non-overt, or implied meaning (where, however, the speaker’s intent is not meant to be recognized). Compared to indirect speech acts, innuendos are motivated by possible sanctions that may be brought against the speaker rather than interests of face. Innuendo can be said to be a type of conversational implicature (Bell 1997: 46), at least in the cases where the intent is recognized. However, while conversational implicature can be cancelled, innuendo cannot; it becomes more transparent in the act of cancellation. Many fallacious questions carry innuendos in their presuppositions. Yet, in dyadic exchanges, the addressee of the innuendo is rarely the target; it seems important in conflict analysis also as far as the topic is concerned. Using innuendo directed at something that the addressee identifies with may cause the conflictive episode to continue. Example 4: Tennessee Williams, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof ([1955] 2004: 118–119) 1. BIG DADDY [leaving a lot unspoken] –I seen all things and understood a lot of them, till 1910. Christ, the year that–I had worn my shoes through, hocked my–I hopped off a yellow dog freight car half a mile down the road, slept in a wagon of cotton outside the gin–Jack Straw an’ Peter Ochello took me in. Hired me to manage this place which grew into this one.–When Jack Straw died–why, old Peter Ochello quit eatin’ like a dog does when its master’s dead, and died, too! 2. BRICK Christ! 3. BIG DADDY I’m just saying I understand such– 4. BRICK [violently] Skipper is dead. I have not quit eating! 5. BIG DADDY No, but you started drinking. In this excerpt, Big Daddy’s utterance contains a weak accusation that his son Brick is homosexual: by invoking the memory of a homosexual couple, Straw and Ochello, Big Daddy suggests an analogy between Ochello’s and Brick’s behavior. He is, as if, sending a hidden message about his suspicions. In terms of context, Big Daddy is not in a position to accuse his adult, independent son of homosexuality (a taboo topic in the conservative 1950s), but the innuendo in his utterance is quite explicit.

12.6.7 Speaking in Quotes Speaking in quotes is another way of indirect expression; as Bigsby (2000: 18) notes, “to speak as another is for the moment to evade the self which can be vulnerable to pain”. It is fairly impersonal, and the implicature can be cancelled.

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Ephratt (2008: 1916) discusses the emotive function of eloquent silence: “[e]ven though ‘I’ (‘me’) changes from one speaker to another, pragmatically speaking, it is always unequivocal, referring to the ‘I’ who speaks (except in cases of fictive speech, such as quoting in general and actors on stage in particular . . .)”. Example 5: Eugene O’Neill, Long Day’s Journey Into Night ([1955] 2002: 32–33) 1. TYRONE(. . .) After all the money I’d wasted on your education, and all you did was get fired in disgrace from every college you went to! 2. JAMIE Oh, for God’s sake, don’t drag up that ancient history! (. . .) 3. TYRONE (stares at him puzzledly, then quotes mechanically) “Ingratitude, the vilest weed that grows!” 4. JAMIE I could see that line coming! God, how many thousand times– ! (He stops, bored with their quarrel, and shrugs his shoulders)

12.7

Conclusion

When pragmatic principles are suspended, and participants cooperate in transgressing maxims (other pragmatic principles), then off-record has various functions equivalent to on-record expression. Speaker intention is recognized and “the unsaid” has an aggravating function. In terms of options that an interactant has when faced with an FTA, indirect impoliteness can be said to be an offensive counter-response, as in the framework of impoliteness it is attributed an unmistakable speaker intention. The analysis of context and pragmatic parameters reveals that conflictive exchanges are in fact cooperative, but they are a mirror reflection of “cooperation”: the goals of such interaction as well as the outcome are negative – but they are achieved (e.g. negotiation of power and dominance, expression of anger, voicing unresolved past grievances, etc.). If pragmatic principles are not suspended, then the exchange becomes uncooperative and leads to breakdown of communication – then the unsaid is a termination format, as it ends the conflict (mostly in a stand-off or withdrawal).

References Bell, D. M. 1997. Innuendo. Journal of Pragmatics 27: 35–59. Berntsen, D. and J. M. Kennedy. 1996. Unresolved contradictions specifying attitudes – in metaphor, irony, understatement and tautology. Poetics 24: 13–29. Bigsby, C. W. E. 2000. Modern American drama, 1945 – 2000. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Bousfield, D. 2008. Impoliteness in interaction. Amsterdam: John Benjamins Publishing Company. Brown, P. and S. C. Levinson. 1987. Politeness: Some universals in language usage. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

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Brumark, A. 2006. Non-observance of Gricean maxims in family dinner table conversation. Journal of Pragmatics 38: 1206–1238. Culpeper, J. 2005. Impoliteness and entertainment in the television quiz show: The Weakest Link. Journal of Politeness Research 1: 35–72. Culpeper, J., D. Bousfield and A. Wichmann. 2003. Impoliteness revisited: with special reference to dynamic and prosodic aspects. Journal of Pragmatics 35: 1545–1579. Davies, B. L. 2007. Grice’s Cooperative Principle: Meaning and rationality. Journal of Pragmatics 39: 2308–2331. Ephratt, M. 2008. The functions of silence. Journal of Pragmatics 40: 1909–1938. Grice, H. P. 1975. Logic and conversation. In: Syntax and semantics 3: Speech Acts, eds. P. Cole and J. Morgan, 4–58. New York: Academic Press. Kopytko, R. 2002. The mental aspects of pragmatic theory. Poznan´: Motivex. Locher, M. 2004. Power and politeness in action. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter. Lowe, V. 1998. ‘Unhappy’ confessions in The Crucible. A pragmatic explanation. In Exploring the language of drama: From text to context, eds. P. Verdonk, J. Culpeper and M. Short, 128–141. London and New York: Routledge. Lumsden, D. 2008. Kinds of conversational cooperation. Journal of Pragmatics 40: 1896–1908. Mandala, S. 2007. Twentieth-century drama dialogue as ordinary talk. Speaking between the lines. Aldershot: Ashgate. Mey, J. L. 1993. Pragmatics: An introduction. Oxford: Blackwell. Miller, A. [1947] 2006. Death of a Salesman. In: S. Barnet, W. Burto, and W. E. Cain. An introduction to literature: Fiction, poetry, and drama, 1564–1631. New York: Pearson Longman. Mooney, A. 2004. Co-operation, violations and making sense. Journal of Pragmatics 36: 899–920. O’Neill, E. [1955] 2002. Long Day’s Journey Into Night. New Haven and London: Yale University Press. Shepard, S. [1977] 2006. Buried Child. New York: Vintage Books. Tannen, D. 1985. Silence: Anything but. In Perspectives on silence, eds. D. Tannen and M. Saville-Troike, 93–111. Norwood, NJ: Ablex. Tannen, D. 1990. Silence as conflict management in fiction and drama: Pinter’s Betrayal and a short story, Great Wits. In Conflict talk: Sociolinguistic investigations of arguments and conversations, ed. A. D. Grimshaw, 260–279. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Thomas, J. 1995. Meaning in interaction. London and New York: Longman. Walton, D. 1999. The fallacy of many questions: On the notions of complexity, loadedness and unfair entrapment in interrogative theory. Argumentation 13: 379–383. Williams, T. [1954] 2004. Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. New York: New Directions.

Chapter 13

Territorialization in Political Discourse: A Pragma-Linguistic Study of Jerzy Buzek’s Inaugural Speeches Katarzyna Molek-Kozakowska

Abstract The purpose of this study is to review some discursive strategies used to (de)territorialize the European public sphere by the newly elected President of the European Parliament Jerzy Buzek. A corpus of his inaugural speeches (over 7,000 words) is examined in order to identify salient pragma-linguistic devices, such as for example high-frequency references, linguistic markers of identities, values and interests, as well as metaphors and argumentative schemata. These are presumed to have been used by Buzek to territorialize the presidential office: to position himself as its leader, to establish his credibility, to become its agenda-setter. Additionally, the analysis focuses on the way Buzek constructs Europe and the EU rhetorically for the purposes of political self-legitimization. In this respect, Europe is projected as a fairly deteritorrialized space: a common, even homogenous, public sphere that depends on specific European institutions for administration.

13.1

Introduction

According to Macgregor Wise (2008: 11), a territory is an area of influence one has. We tend to mark our territories with real and symbolic signs that change the spaces around us. Sometimes we first need to deterritorialize that space by removing the signs imprinted there by others in order to reterritorialize it in our own fashion, as is the case with redecorating a newly bought house. That is why some cultural territories tend to be rather ephemeral configurations of physical and symbolic means of expression of our diverse identities, affiliations, ideologies and interests, whereas others seem to persist through our traditions or memories – our habitus (Bourdieu 1990). Political institutions can also be thought of as symbolic territories, which is evident in a range of metaphors we use when describing them. For example, one performs politics through constant attempts to “appropriate public space”. K. Molek-Kozakowska (*) Opole University, Opole, Poland e-mail: [email protected] M. Pawlak and J. Bielak (eds.), New Perspectives in Language, Discourse and Translation Studies, Second Language Learning and Teaching, DOI 10.1007/978-3-642-20083-0_13, # Springer-Verlag Berlin Heidelberg 2011

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One exerts political influence by marking the “political arena” with one’s presence, by voicing one’s opinions and advancing one’s agenda, by installing a network of unique signs that could “resonate” with the public (cf. Wodak 2009). As a result, territorialization is predicated on specific rhetorical resources that one employs to “refurbish” a political institution or “refashion” its discourse. On the other hand, one may sometimes attempt to “clear” the political arena of previous influences, or take a political issue out of its institutional context, usually in order to rhetorically enhance one’s argument or position. In such cases, the discursive dimension of deterritorialization seems to be of strategic significance, despite the fact that its mechanisms have been relatively under-researched so far. The purpose of this study is to review some discursive strategies used to (de) territorialize the European public sphere by the newly elected President of the European Parliament Jerzy Buzek. A corpus of his inaugural speeches (over 7,000 words) will be examined in order to identify salient pragma-linguistic devices, such as for example high-frequency references, linguistic markers of identities, values and interests, as well as pervasive metaphors and argumentative schemata. These are presumed to have been used by Buzek to territorialize the presidential office: to position himself as its leader, to establish his credibility, to become its agenda-setter. Additionally, the analysis will focus on the way Buzek constructs Europe and the European institutions rhetorically for the purposes of political self-legitimization. In this respect, it is assumed that Europe will be projected as a fairly deterritorialized space: a common, even homogenous, public sphere that depends on specific European institutions for administration. The present study will be informed by the current theoretical models of the European public sphere, and will apply selected methodological instruments of cultural linguistics, pragmatics and Critical Discourse Analysis that allow for the operationalization of the concept of territorialization and for a critical analysis of Buzek’s speeches.

13.2

European Public Sphere as a Symbolic Territory

Political communication studies, cultural studies and media studies are often cited as the disciplines that provide contextualization for the pragmatic analysis of verbal data in political discourse. In like manner, this project attempts to operationalize the cultural construct of territorialization and apply it to a sample of textual material. This is because discursive territorialization, as described in the introductory section, seems to be one of the key mechanisms of “doing politics” (Wodak 2009) through specific uses of language. Such mechanisms, according to critical discourse analysts, should be subjected not only to linguistic description but also to pragmatic evaluation and social explanation and critique (cf. Fairclough 1989). Although the mechanism of territorialization has only begun to be studied and it is mainly considered in the context of global popular culture and mass-media influence (cf. Macgregor Wise 2008), there is no reason to assume that it is somehow absent

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from the discourses emanating from the common European public sphere. On the contrary, because the European public sphere has not been clearly delineated yet, national, international and transnational issues, interests and influences are routinely played and displayed there. This may contribute to the fact that the EU’s political discourse still abounds in ideological inconsistencies and power struggles, in which territorialization can be used as a useful rhetorical strategy applied by various political actors and interest groups to “win more space” for themselves. The notion of the post-modern public sphere has already been extensively theorized (e.g. Habermas 1989; Thompson 1995), although it is most often used to describe national political arenas of public debate. By extension, in this paper, the term European public sphere (EPS) will be used to denote a temporally and institutionally unified space for a geographically and ethnically dispersed European population to communicate on the issues of European governance. The development of EPS not only facilitates the everyday implementation of transnational policies in Europe, but also, in further consequence, contributes to the sense of belonging to a larger European community. This model of EPS has at least two implications. Firstly and significantly for the present study, such understanding of the public sphere validates the role of research into the properties of communicative activities taking place in the European institutions (and the discursive strategies that are routinely employed there), as well as the processes through which these are mediated to the populace by the European and national media (Trenz 2004). Secondly, such understanding is compatible with the idea that EPS is a “projected” political space, even a form of “imagined community”, to use Benedict Anderson’s (1984) term. This implies that it is the institutional and mass-mediated discourses of the European public sphere that largely construct the ways Europeans perceive and experience their membership to the political, economic, cultural and social collectivity labeled Europe (and not just reflect a pre-conceived notion of Europe or European-ness). So, what are these discourses like? And do European institutions and media facilitate the construction of a transnational, transcultural, truly European public sphere through their discourses? John Downey and Thomas Koenig seem to have doubts about it, observing that “while the European Union is regularly presented as the leading example of cosmopolitan citizenship, it is also commonly asserted that it contains a ‘democratic deficit,’ because system integration has greatly outpaced social integration” (2006: 166). This would suggest that the elimination of many political, legal and economic boundaries at the institutional level has not yet led to sufficient cultural and social integration in Europe, which is a condition for the construction of European community in any meaningful sense. In addition, despite transnational media’s connectivity and circulation, the development of common European identity through the media has been relatively difficult, if not to say ineffective, so far (Volkner 2008). The European Parliament (EP) might well be the institution that suffers from the “democratic deficit” the least, as it is the only one that emerges in the course of direct elections. The EP has important legislative prerogatives that impinge on the workings of the European Commission, as well as on legislation of individual

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Member States. The EP delegates are often proponents of the “European cause” as much as guardians of their nations’ interests. The office of the EP’s President, currently held by a Pole, Jerzy Buzek, is of specific political, representative and administrative importance. The President’s main function seems to be to ensure smooth parliamentary proceedings by facilitating co-operation and consensusseeking, which are central to the EU’s political style. However, he is also, to borrow a term from media studies, an important agenda-setter, who is responsible for deciding not only which issues are communicated, but also how and why they are discussed.

13.3

Territorialization in Discourse

The notion of (de)territorialization can be operationalized for the purposes of political discourse analysis; however, there are at least several ways in which political institutions can be discursively territorialized. At the technical level of discursive territorialization, for example, it should be considered (1) where landmark political speeches are made (at the official headquarters or abroad, e.g. in historic places), (2) in which language they are delivered, and (3) into which languages they have been translated, if their mediated/archive versions are available online. For example, in the case of Jerzy Buzek, most of his early speeches have been delivered in Polish, and their online transcripts at www.ep-president.eu are available in English, French, German and Polish, with the exception of the Inaugural Address, which is posted in the majority of EU official languages. At the (socio)linguistic level of discursive territorialization, one should note the speaker’s accent, jargon usage, terms of address or other sociolinguistic variables, which may either reflect particular local conventions and national cultural preferences or bear unmarked, transcultural characteristics (e.g. “Euro-English bureaucratese”). In the last instance, the political speaker will often replicate the style of the institutional documents, effacing his/her language- and culture-specific habits for the sake of contributing to a deterritorialized perception of the office. This is somewhat at odds with the official priorities of the European Union, whose language policy is to foster diversity and preserve equal status of minority languages. Finally, at the symbolic level of discursive territorialization, there is a variety of icons, images and symbols available in political expression, with cultural, religious and historical references being the most common devices in political rhetoric (Chruszczewski 2003). These, again, could be more or less nationalistic in character (Billig 1995), based on the delineation, even polarization, between “us” and “them” (van Dijk 1998). Sometimes, the accrual of symbolic signs leads to the construction of myths and other narratives, such as those of “the clash of cultures” between the West and the East, or “the common European heritage”. These can be invoked as naturalized, non-reflexive argumentative schemata for persuasive purposes. In this study particular attention will be paid to the following territorialization codings: (1) identities – created or projected by means of adjectives and nouns that

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index human collectivities, such as ethnic/national references, group labels, membership categories, e.g. “citizens”, “East Europeans”, “women”, “Christians” or “immigrants”; (2) values – invoked mainly by means of abstract nouns, e.g. “freedom”, “democracy” or “progress”, or their derivatives, in order to be positively emotionally associated with focal issues and to justify specific policies; and (3) interests – delimited by means of various linguistic exponents, including predication and modality to establish priorities in political planning and administration, e.g. “we need to. . .”, “we should. . .”. Apart from these linguistic resources for symbolic territorialization in political discourse, the study aims to investigate the means by which “Europe” is constructed rhetorically. There seems to be a range of discursive means to actually deterritorialize Europe and project it as a homogenous community: as a shared world of meanings beyond diverse interests and affiliations. Looking into the so-called “European rhetoric” (Trenz 2004: 310) requires identifying stylistic devices that construct Europe as a unity, for example through the strategic use of the pronoun “we” for inclusion, or of the adjective “European”, as in such phrases as “European heritage” or “European unemployment”, which have little precise denotation but a huge potential for a “bandwagon appeal”. In the same vein, the use of generalizations and comparative statements may be indicative of the rhetorically enhanced construction of Europe, rather than its objective representation. Slogans and catch-phrases may be used to engender “banal Europeanism” (Cram 2001), while presupposed pan-Europeanism may hide important distinctions and divisions behind a veil of “common European identity”. Finally, critical attention to metaphors in which Europe is conceptualized as a specifically evaluated entity (e.g. “as our common home”), or to framing devices (“European politics as based on consensus rather than conflict”) that guide recipients to specific interpretations, helps to demystify the rhetorical uses of deterritorialized Europe applied for the purposes of justifying the ever-growing European bureaucracy (cf. MolekKozakowska 2010).

13.4

Territorialization in Jerzy Buzek’s Selected Speeches

The material for the subsequent analysis of territorialization is a textual corpus consisting of 7,009 words of the first four official speeches delivered by the newly elected President of the European Parliament Jerzy Buzek. All the speeches under analysis are in English (although three of them were originally made in Polish) and are available from www.ep-president.eu/view/en/press/speeches: 1. Inaugural speech by Jerzy Buzek following his election as President of the European Parliament, Strasbourg, European Parliament, 17/07/2009 (990 words); 2. Speech by Jerzy Buzek at the ceremony commemorating the 70th anniversary of the outbreak of WWII, Westerplatte, Poland, 1/09/2009 (728 words);

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3. Speech by Jerzy Buzek at the Institute of International and European Affairs: “The Lisbon Treaty, Ireland and the Future of the EU”, Dublin, Ireland, 8/09/ 2009 (1,763 words); 4. Inaugural Address by Jerzy Buzek, President of the European Parliament, Strasbourg, Plenary sitting of the European Parliament, 15/09/2009 (3,528 words). Although the choice of speeches is random (they have not been cherry-picked to prove a specific point), the fact that they are the first ones delivered by the new President makes them especially relevant to the purposes of the study: the inaugural speeches may include important markers of territorialization as well as carry typical features of “European rhetoric”.

13.4.1 Self-Positioning in the New Territory: Negotiating between the Polish and European Identity Throughout all the studied speeches, Jerzy Buzek attempts to position himself within the political territory of the office of the EP President. On the one hand he makes frequent references to his personal experiences and Polish roots, on the other hand he reveals himself to be a strong proponent of further European integration, particularly by relentlessly campaigning for the Lisbon Treaty (at that time it was still not clear if it was to be adopted). As regards territorialization through identity/value coding, in his inaugural speeches Jerzy Buzek describes himself as a former dissident political activist, who used to live behind the Iron Curtain (1: 6, 1: 1, 3: 4),1 and who, like millions of citizens of Central and Eastern European countries, “refused to give in to a hateful system” (1: 12). He regularly invokes and validates the role of the Solidarity workers’ movement in Poland, of which he was a member and a leader (1: 13, 1: 21, 2: 5), stressing its revolutionary drive to abolish the post-war ideological divisions in Europe. These divisions have been overcome, according to Buzek, who openly admits his religious affiliation, due to the victory of ethical imperatives that stem from “our Christian heritage” (3: 15–16, 2: 11). Also “the lessons of Pope John Paul II” are shown to have catalyzed political change in Europe (1: 6). Last but not least, Buzek demonstrates his strong national anchoring: he makes use of Poland’s history for parallels and exemplifications of his political points and sometimes colors his argumentation with references to Polish traditions (1: 6, 1: 11–13, 1: 21, 2: 1, 2: 5, 3: 4, 3: 15–16). In some instances he “mythologizes” Poland’s WWII and Cold War sacrifice and its contribution to Europe’s present-day stability. For example, he draws attention to the Polish struggle against fascism and totalitarianism, which he reframes at Westerplatte as the fight “for the freedom and honor 1

Numbers refer to speech number in the corpus (as listed in Sect. 13.4): paragraph number.

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of Europe” (2: 1), and applauds Poland for its efforts in promoting democracy and European integration in the last two decades (1: 11–12, 2: 5). It can be observed that Buzek’s relatively frequent references to his personal experiences and political activities, to Christian values, and to Polish war heroism are mainly oriented towards establishing his credibility within this new European territory, and should not be interpreted as just “empty rhetoric”. This way of selfpositioning is congruent with the demands of the presidential office, as it is difficult to be a respected European leader without being a national leader. Moreover, such an expressive projection of personal stature and national identity is key to European political discourse, which abounds in symbolism, as in Buzek’s recognition of the significance of “conferring this great responsibility [of EP presidency] on a representative of a Central and Eastern European country” (1: 10). Hence, notwithstanding his firm roots, Buzek projects himself as a truly European leader, for example by applauding the Lisbon Treaty or other founding EU documents in all his speeches, and devoting much space to illustrating why it is crucial to strengthen the effectiveness of European institutions and, in this way, help to build a more stable and prosperous union (1: 15–17, 2: 9, 2: 12–14, most of 3 and 4). Indeed, a rough word frequency count reveals that Buzek uses the word “Europe” or “European” every 56 words (sometimes the modifier is left out when referring to the Parliament, the Community or the Commission).

13.4.2 Who Are “We”? An important aspect of discursive territorialization is how identities are constructed through linguistic means of inclusion and exclusion. This is why the key category studied here is the use of the pronoun “we”, which often indicates the speaker’s implicit categorization of political actors. In Jerzy Buzek’s speeches, “we” seems to have various scopes depending on his rhetorical purpose. For example, in his first speech he makes a distinction between “us” – Central and Eastern Europeans and “you” – Western Europeans, only to invalidate that distinction: We on one side of the Iron Curtain struggled for freedom and democracy. You, on the other side, helped us politically and through small, but extremely important, gestures of support (. . .) we have been working together to build a united Europe. There is no “us” and “you”. We can say loud and clear that this Europe belongs to us all. (1: 13–14).

The maximally inclusive “we” is instrumental to Buzek’s endeavor to abolish the long-lasting division into Western and Eastern Europe (also known as “old” and “new” Europe) still persisting in the EU discourse. In addition, this device functions to enhance a frequent conceptual metaphor typical of all Buzek’s speeches, namely, that of a “border-less Europe”, a continent without real and mental “walls” and “barriers,” as in the following: Over the many years since that first Community was established, we have been knocking down the walls left by the Second World War. We cannot now allow them ever to be raised again, through exploitation of energy resources or manipulation of historical facts. (2: 10)

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In the second speech, commemorating the outbreak of WWII in Europe and specifically the attack on Westerplatte in Poland, Buzek is careful not to introduce the opposition between “us” – the victims and “them” – the invaders, as this would be contrary to his integrationist agenda. Instead he makes systematic references to “us” – present-day Europeans, who are fairly united and integrated, and who need to “ensure that our nations are truly reconciled” (2: 14). Constructing this category of “us” implies the existence of “the others” – those who lived and fought, survived or perished in past military conflicts and who embody the past ideological divisions of Europe (2: 5–6). This distinction is a contrast schema that argumentatively underpins Buzek’s warning to “remember the lessons of the past” and further “strengthen our European solidarity” in order to make future wars unthinkable (2: 13), as envisioned by the European Coal and Steel Community’s founding father Robert Schuman. The third speech, delivered in Dublin and devoted to promoting the Treaty of Lisbon before the Irish referendum, makes another strategic use of the pronoun “we”. Here, Buzek attempts to build an informal friendly relation with the Irish public, for example by casual references to his personal feelings and experiences: I am certainly not here to tell the Irish people how to vote (. . .) I believe that this is too important a referendum for the luxury of a low turnout (. . .) I was very surprised to see certain posters around the city put up by the NO campaign. (3: 4,7,8)

Such disclaimers make an initial impression that he is not a party in this controversy, which is not so. Then Buzek highlights some similarities between Ireland and Poland (which has already completed its process of ratification of the Treaty) in order to dispel Irish concerns as to the purported loss of sovereignty on ratifying the Lisbon Treaty. By insisting that Poland and Ireland have much in common, Buzek develops a narrative in which he applies a schema of comparison which is conducive to his persuasive purposes: We have similar traditions and a similar history: a history of occupation, immigration due to poverty and political oppression. We are both now modern societies with a commitment to free trade, a market-economy, export-driven growth. (3: 17)

By claiming a common identity and noting the rise of similar concerns with respect to e.g. taxation, minimum wage regulation and abortion in both countries, Buzek successfully places himself on “their” side of the debate to convince the Irish that these issues are not to be regulated by Brussels. The members of the NO campaign are then effectively marginalized and their fear-mongering and Euroskepticism exposed (3: 20). Finally, in his Inaugural Address, Buzek develops his vision of a united Europe by repeatedly constructing the common European identity invoked by the inclusive “we”. He shows his enthusiasm for further European integration in frequent sloganlike interjections in his political address, e.g. “Old and new Europe are no more. This is our Europe!” (4: 4), “The richness and strength of our institutions also derive from our differences (. . .) That is what makes Europe fascinating” (4: 65), “Because it is our Europe. A modern Europe. A strong Europe” (4: 84). As is common in this genre, Buzek also uses “we” to refer to his fellow Members of the European

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Parliament (MEPs) and outlines the main tasks and challenges the assembly must face under his guidance. The new President tends to eschew the use of “I” to set his agenda, preferring the collective “we” to detail his policies, e.g. “Yet, regardless of the Treaty, we feel the need for change. We feel the need for a more dynamic parliamentary dimension within our institution” (4: 48), “We must forge closer ties with the Council of Ministers” (4: 59). Sometimes Buzek’s “we” is ambiguous and oscillates between references to MEPs and all Europeans, as in the following: As we [MEPs/Europeans] tackle this crisis, let us [MEPs] listen to the economists who say we [MEPs/Europeans] should use this period to undertake a profound reform of the European and world economy. Once we [Europeans] emerge from the present crisis, the enthusiasm for reform will be lost and we [MEPs] will not have safeguarded ourselves [Europeans/MEPs] against the next one. (4: 14)

Such conflation of the scopes of “we” is quite common in political discourse, since it is a useful rhetorical strategy to project the interests of the institution as the interests of the society at large. This type of rhetoric seems to validate the parliamentary decision-making process as truly democratic and representative of all nations, parties and groups. In its generality and abstractness, it also results in deterritorializing the European political arena of nation-specific problems and nuances of policy.

13.4.3 “Common” European Identities, Values, Interests As shown above, the European identity, especially in the Inaugural Address, seems to be almost all-inclusive, which is intensified with Buzek’s occasional overgeneralizations to advance the argument for integration, e.g. (emphases mine) “The cohesion policy must remain a priority in the next Community budget, if we want to achieve full integration of our reunited continent” (4: 17), “[l]et us explain to our citizens why Europe is good, and why the Community method benefits all Europeans” (4: 19), “[i]mmigration has always brought Europe benefits” (4: 28). The most commonly used group membership categories are “Europeans” and “citizens”, which are large collectives invoked to forge common identity. These are complemented with other collective labels, e.g. “Member States”, “women”, “immigrants” or “foreign partners”, when specific policies are discussed. The projection of uniform European identity is consolidated through references to common values and ideals, which constitute “the basis” or “the foundations” (4: 7) (note the BUILDING metaphor) of European institutions. By quoting snippets from various philosophical, historical and religious sources, ranging from Aristotle (4: 8) to Hannah Arendt (4: 9), form the French revolutionaries (1: 8) to Pope Benedict XVI (3: 16), from Jean Monnet (4: 36) to Bronisław Geremek (4: 78), Buzek aims to acknowledge the variety of influences that are constitutive of the present-day EU ethos. The frequency of such words as

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“democracy”, “peace and stability”, “integration”, “freedom and well-being”, as well as “change and reform” is, on the one hand, indicative of Buzek’s political principles and priorities, and, on the other, likely to resonate with general European public: who would refuse to cherish such values as the “glittering generalities” listed above? Out of these values and identities stem the European “common interests”, as succinctly put by Buzek in his first official speech as the EP President: On the big issues, we need to stand in defense of democracy. On the bread-and-butter issues, the people of Europe expect us politicians to resolve this [economic] crisis, and we must set about doing so immediately. People want jobs (. . .). Energy security is crucial (. . .). We have to tackle climate change. (1: 15)

In addition, solving the demographic crisis, ensuring equal rights for women and immigrants, developing effective common foreign policy, campaigning for human rights and reducing the “democratic deficit” of European institutions seem to be other “must-do”, “should-do” and “need-to-do” entries of Buzek’s presidency. Since many interests are expressed by means of bare assertions (and many nouns are preceded by the definite article “the”, which presupposes previous knowledge), this projects a particular version of European political reality and constructs that version as universally shared and undisputable. What might be noticed in Buzek’s speeches is that very often all the European countries seem to have the same interests and preoccupations, and that all Member States do their utmost to cooperate in ensuring that those challenges are met. This is because the main political ethos of the unified Europe, according to Buzek, is “to resolve conflicts and opposing interests (. . .) through debate and argument” (4: 8). Here, the attempt at deterritorializing Europe of national interests works rhetorically to advance an idealistic vision of the European Union’s key integrative and mediating role. As deterritorialization backgrounds particular national differences and priorities, it can be effectively used to justify the ever-growing European bureaucracy. That is why it can be stated that Buzek’s inaugural speeches largely conform to the characteristics of “European rhetoric”, as outlined in Sect. 13.3.

13.5

Conclusions

Although the understanding of a nation as an “imagined community” (cf. Anderson 1984) is widely embraced, and the functioning of national public spheres, even in their banal forms (cf. Billig 1995), has been relatively well-researched, this cannot be said of the European public sphere (EPS), which is still a highly contested territory. Hence, taking into consideration the imagined status of European identity, its discursive constructedness, and the widespread perception of the “democratic deficit” in European institutions (cf. Downey and Koenig 2006), the present study has used the notion of territorialization to investigate some salient properties of EPS

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discourse, as exemplified by Jerzy Buzek, the current President of the European Parliament. Firstly, the notion of territorialization has been operationalized for the purposes of political discourse analysis, and then the uses of “territorializing” and “deterritorializing” pragma-linguistic devices have been identified and analyzed. In the course of a critical analysis of a corpus of Buzek’s inaugural speeches, it has been illustrated that (de)territorialization codings are deployed strategically to enhance his political arguments. This partly confirms Downey and Koenig’s (2006) thesis of the relative shortage of “truly transnational, pan-European public sphere”. The patterns of territorialization found in Buzek’s speeches seem to indicate that the core territorial identification concept in EU discourse is still that of the nation and that the emphasis on Member State sovereignty is still central to the EPS. In a qualitative study of recurrent keywords, as well as applications of salient metaphors, argumentative schemata and markers of identities, values and interests, it has been demonstrated that territorialization constitutes a powerful rhetorical strategy and can be used to build political credibility and to advance an agenda. Likewise, the use of “deterritorialized” Europe – conceived of as a homogenous space – can be in many situations an effective rhetorical device. As a slogan, a presupposition, an overgeneralization or a projection, “Europe” is often a construct used for the legitimization of certain political visions and interests rather than for the genuine expression of common European identity.

References Anderson, B. 1984. Imagined community: Reflections on the origin and spread of nationalism. London: Verso. Billig, M. 1995. Banal nationalism. London: Sage. Bourdieu, P. 1990. In other words: Essays towards reflexive sociology, trans. Matthew Adamson. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Chruszczewski, P. 2003. American political discourse analysis. Berlin: Logos Verlag. Cram, L. 2001. Imagining the union: The case of banal Europeanism? In Whose Europe: Interlocking dimensions of European integration, ed. H. Wallace, 343–362. London: Macmillan. Downey, J. and T. Koenig. 2006. Is there a European public sphere? European Journal of Communication 21: 165–187. Fairclough, N. 1989. Language and power. Harlow: Longman. Habermas, J. 1989. The structural transformation of the public sphere. Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press. Macgregor Wise, J. 2008. Cultural globalization. Oxford: Blackwell. Molek-Kozakowska, K. 2010. The rhetoric of space in political discourse: Spatial metaphors in political speeches of the European Commission. In Exploring space: Spatial notions in cultural, literary and language studies, ed. A. Ciuk and K. Molek-Kozakowska, 93–103. Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. Thompson, J. 1995. The media and modernity: A social theory of the media. Cambridge: Polity Press.

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Trenz, H. 2004. Media coverage on European governance: Exploring the European public sphere in national quality newspapers. European Journal of Communication 19: 291–319. Van Dijk, T. A. 1998. Ideology. A multidisciplinary approach. London: Sage. Volkner, I. 2008. Satellite cultures in Europe: Between national spheres and a globalized space. Global Media and Communications 4: 231–244. Wodak, R. 2009. The discourse of politics in action: Politics as usual. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan.

Chapter 14

From a Complaint through Therapy to Recovery: Patient Indexicality in Medical Case Reports Magdalena Murawska

Abstract In the present paper, the issue of patient indexicality in professional medical texts has been addressed. To this aim a corpus of medical case reports has been compiled to examine both direct and indirect references to the patients described there. The studied tokens have been investigated from two perspectives. First, the focus has fallen on patient textual presence/absence as conditioned by the aims of the respective text-parts. Second, the analysis of patient reference in the sections of the case reports has been discussed with respect to some of the facts from the history of the development of medicine. The form and content of the texts under study may also be influenced by the currently practiced model of medicine, i.e. the biomedical model. Furthermore, the analysis has drawn on the hierarchical levels of medical description as well as on two models of disease presentation which also help to explain the choice of modes of writing about patients and diseases they suffer from. The study reveals that as the texts progress, they become more patient-evacuated and focus on his/her progressively smaller body parts. In other words, patient reference changes from direct indexicality to indirect references to his/her body parts or to the textual absence of the treated. This effect is achieved not only by the type of information imparted but also by the lexical and grammatical resources used to describe it. Consequently, the mode of writing as testified in the case reports at hand contributes to the presentation of mental/bodily experience, disease and treatment in abstraction from the patient.

14.1

Introduction

The language medical professionals use in order to document their academic activities has been widely researched in recent years within the framework of specialised discourse analysis. It may seem that the bulk of the studies on written M. Murawska (*) Adam Mickiewicz University, Poznan´, Poland e-mail: [email protected] M. Pawlak and J. Bielak (eds.), New Perspectives in Language, Discourse and Translation Studies, Second Language Learning and Teaching, DOI 10.1007/978-3-642-20083-0_14, # Springer-Verlag Berlin Heidelberg 2011

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medical discourse constitute the quantitative investigations into specific lexical and grammatical features (Gotti and Salager-Meyer 2006) and their respective functions as well as the organisation and presentation of ideas in specific text parts (Myers 1990). Another substantial body of research has examined linguistic features of texts and the effect they produce. These are studies devoted to impersonality (Hyland 2001), authorial identity (the KIAP project), metaphors (Van Rijn-Van Tongeren 1997), and the presentation of patients and diseases (Anspach 1988; Grice and Kramer-Dahl 1992; Kenny and Beagan 2004). In this paper, I investigate the modes of patient imaging in medical case reports as conditioned by the context of their production as well as by the aims of the respective text-parts. I assume that, depending on the macro-structural functions of particular sections of the texts, the authors can allocate communicative accents in a sentence in a variety of ways by adopting different perspectives and the mode of patient reference. I will begin with a theoretical background for the study. Next, the data and the methods applied in the study will be described. Finally, the results of the analysis will be discussed.

14.2

Theoretical Background

In this section, the theoretical background for the study will be presented. According to Bazerman (1988: 47), scientific discourses are shaped by given disciplines. It follows that the ways in which academics inform about their scientific activities are influenced by modes of reasoning, methodologies, objectives, etc. of a given area of study (cf. Atkinson 2001; Taavitsainen and Pahta 2000). In other words, how researchers argue in scientific papers and the theories and methods they choose depend on a particular model which is practiced at a particular moment in a particular discipline. Following this line of reasoning, features of medical texts might be conditioned by the nature of medicine both as an area of study and of practice. As regards medical practice, the framework that has outlined the premises of how medicine has been practiced in western societies since the mid nineteenth century is the biomedical model. It views illness as a direct consequence of the diseased body and patients as mere recipients of treatment (cf. Wade and Halligan 2004: 1398). Therefore, the model is reductionist because it limits the understanding of disease only to its biological manifestations excluding social and psychological aspects. Relevant to the present study is also the perspective on the biomedical model offered by the sociology of medicine. This discipline approaches medicine critically, which means that it does not treat medical knowledge as given but as the product of social and cultural practices (cf. Atkinson 1995: 25). Consequently, the sociology of medicine provides a number of notions and distinctions which prove to be instrumental in examining how medical discourse reflects the current status of medicine, namely the biomedical model.

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Firstly, the sociology of medicine distinguishes between disease and illness. Disease is a concept of a state conditioned by the presence or absence of the manifestations indicating a given pathological change. Illness, on the other hand, is defined in terms of its subjective perception by the patient (cf. Bond and Bond 1986: 200). It is a conceptual differentiation between what the doctor sees and what the patient feels and it goes in line with the biomedical model in which only the abnormal states within the body are treated. This way, the model centres around the patient’s body and its biological processes abstracting from the patient as a whole and social and psychological aspects of his/her illness. Secondly, according to the sociologists of medicine, the biomedical model conceptualises diseases as “it”, i.e. as an “isolatable entity” (Blois 1984), which manifests itself unchangingly in all patients. Associated with Plato, whose aim was to classify diseases, this mode of disease presentation is referred to as the nominalist mode. It allows to describe a disease as a purely abstract concept and as separate from its context, i.e. the patient (cf. Blois 1984: 92). For instance, doctors and patients may refer differently to the same medical condition. While the patient may talk about a stomachache, the doctor may refer to it as gallstone colic, thus reducing the experience of a pathological state to an entity carrying a particular meaning in medical discourse (cf. Nijhof 1998: 739). This entity can be enumerated and referred to in abstraction from the patient, as opposed to particular sensations, i.e. “attributes that constitute his illness” (Blois 1984: 94). The following sentence exemplifies this mode: 1. Fifteen months after the patient’s injury, staff members reported possible leg flexion and eye closure on two separate occasions in response to command, but the responses were rare and inconsistent during the next 2 months (Childs and Mercer 1996). Although example (1) includes a direct reference to the whole patient, his/her symptoms and reactions are enumerated as if they were entities which are not part of the patient’s experience of illness. An alternative is the psychological mode, which is attributed to Hippocrates and views illness as a collection of changes that are experienced by a particular individual.

14.2.1 Hierarchical Levels of Medical Description (Blois 1984) The hierarchical levels of medical description as proposed by Blois (1984: 113) help to explain the choice of modes of writing about patients and their diseases: Level 0: Patient as a whole. Level 1: Major patient part: e.g. chest, abdomen, head. Level 2: Physiologic system: e.g. cardiovascular system, respiratory system. Level 3: System part, or organ: e.g. heart, major vessels, lungs.

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Level 4: Organ part, or tissue: e.g. myocardium, bone marrow. Level 5: Cell: e.g. epithelial cell, fibroblast, lymphocyte. Level 6: Cell part: e.g. cell membrane, organelles, nucleus. Level 7: Macromolecule: e.g. enzyme, structural protein, nucleic acid. Level 8: Micromolecule: e.g. glucose, ascorbic acid. Level 9: Atoms or ions: e.g. sodium ion. Following this description, the departures in the patient’s condition are features of diseases which can be considered with reference to the patient in general or to the specific parts of his/her body affected by these changes. On this reasoning, while anxiety, fever or anorexia pertain to the whole patient’s condition, the pain which occurs in angina pectoris can be felt in given body-parts (Blois 1984:112). The levels above start with the whole body, go through systems and organs where bodily sensations of various sorts can be experienced, and end with cellular, molecular and atomic levels at which biological processes can be inspected. These processes may not always cause directly observable or directly felt signs, yet very often certain bodily or mental reactions are the consequences of the abnormalities at these lower levels. Therefore, while the description at levels 0–4 may refer to specific symptoms or reactions which patients have, the other levels describe changes not directly affecting patients’ experience (levels from 5 to 9). Consequently, a disease can be presented at various hierarchical levels of medical description referring to different body-parts or their constituents, which affects patient indexicality.

14.2.2 Container Metaphor One of the techniques of patient imaging is the metaphor of a container. Metaphor can be defined as “the use of language to refer to something other than what it was originally applied to, or what it ‘literally’ means, in order to suggest some resemblance or to make a connection between the two things” (Knowles and Moon 2006: 1). In other words, metaphor describes a thing in terms of another thing establishing a common ground between the two. Introduced by Lakoff and Johnson (1980), the container metaphor presents objects or notions as having an inside and outside and as being capable of holding something. As Lakoff and Johnson (1980: 28) explain, “[w]e are physical beings, bounded and set off from the rest of the world by the surface of our skins, and we experience the rest of the world as outside us. Each of us is a container, with a bounding surface and an in-out orientation”. In medical discourse, the concept of disease in the patient is utilised to describe medical procedures or to give an account of medical facts. From this perspective, the patient’s body tends to be viewed as a container in which diseases are localised and particular treatment is performed. Language-wise, this effect is achieved by placing patient referents in the positions of complements of prepositional phrases with the meaning of location.

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14.2.3 Sentence from Three Perspectives As patient imaging will be examined on the basis of exemplary sentences, a few terms regarding the structure and function of sentential elements need to be discussed. Traditionally and from a syntactic point of view, a sentence is thought to consist of two parts, namely the subject and the predicate, the latter comprised of the object, complement and adverbial. As regards the subject and the object, position-wise, they precede and follow the verb respectively (in the case of a declarative sentence) (Greenbaum and Quirk 1990: 207). Functionally, the subject is “prominent positionally” in that it is a “perspectival centre” and “the starting of the communication of a sentence” (Smith 2003: 192–193). Supporting evidence for the prominence of the subject can also be found in psychological studies (Brennan 1995; Paivio 1979). Chafe (1976) compares the structure of a sentence to a package of information which is “unwrapped” step by step by a reader. Although it consists of many elements, “knowledge directly attached to the subject may be most immediately accessible” (Chafe 1976: 44). Semantically, given a prototypical Active Voice sentence, the Agent, “the ‘doer’, or instigator of the action denoted by the predicate” (Aarts 1997:88), is “the most topical participant”, “the apex of the topic hierarchy” (Givon 1990: 566), being the first candidate for the subject position. In contrast, in a prototypical Passive Voice sentence it is the Patient, “the ‘undergoer’ of the action or event denoted by the predicate” (Aarts 1997: 88), who/that is granted the title of “the most topical participant” (Givon 1990: 566) and the position of the subject. Indeed, if a given situation with participants involved is described, “they rank on a scale according to their importance” (Givon 1984: 137). Consequently, the subject and the direct object are primary and secondary clausal topics respectively (Givon 1984: 138; cf. Smith 2003:193). Clearly then, grammatical relations have their pragmatic consequences for the prominence of specific participants with their thematic roles (cf. Van Dijk 1980: 95–96). Underlying this reasoning is the approach to the sentence introduced by the linguists of the Prague School – Functional Sentence Perspective – in which semantic, grammatical and functional levels are considered (cf. Firbas 1974).

14.3

Data and Methods

The corpus for this study comprises 56 case reports taken from four international medical journals aimed at health professionals – The Lancet (15), The Journal of American Medical Association (13), The New England Journal of Medicine (16) and The British Medical Journal (12). In their study of case reports from a diachronic perspective, Taavitsainen and Pahta (2000: 60) define this genre in the following way: “[i]n its typical form, the case report records the course of a patient’s disease from the onset of symptoms to the outcome, usually either recovery or death. The background and a commentary on the disease are also given, but their scope

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may vary. Often a limited review of the literature is added and the number of known cases stated”. Generally, case reports present new diseases or diseases that are already known but which have unusual manifestations. As regards their structure, case reports are “the briefest and simplest category of article” (Adams Smith 1984: 27) and usually consist of three parts: “a short Introduction, a more detailed Case Report body, and a brief Comment or Discussion section” (Rowley-Jolivet 2007: 185). Rhetorically, the presentation of information in case reports renders them “descriptive and expository” (Salager-Meyer et al. 1989: 155), which is in keeping with the primary aim of this genre. In the analysis, each article was carefully read in search of any words that referred to the patients described there. Next, the examples containing references to the patients were isolated by means of WordSmith 5 and further examined. The examples which did not refer to the patients directly, yet concerned various aspects of their treatment, were also taken into consideration. In the following discussion of the results, it will be demonstrated how various grammatical and lexical configurations of the texts in the examined corpus allow the authors to focus on various aspects discussed in different sections of the case reports. The presentation of the results of the study as well as their discussion will follow the order of the sections in a case report with a view to showing how patient imaging changes as the texts progress.

14.4

Results and Discussion

14.4.1 Introduction Section A typical case report commences with an Introduction, which explains the reason of the patient’s presentation. 2. A 64-year-old woman presented to the emergency department with a stiff painful jaw (Lindley-Jones et al. 2004). In this section, the description is restricted to the levels considering conditions of the whole body or its parts and patients are presented as experiencers of these conditions (cf. the adjective painful referring to certain bodily experience, which means that the psychological mode is used here). As such words as painful denote subjective perception, what is narrated here is the account of an illness as experienced by an individual, in contrast to a disease which is objectively observed by a physician. The floor is given to the patient who is granted the agency of complaining or reporting. Yet, it is achieved only symbolically through the authorial persona, as the patient’s account is in the third person. Language-wise, the words referring to patients in this section are personal pronouns or nouns and they are located in the subject position. As a result, patients are imaged as whole persons (cf. Wade and Halligan 2004: 1400), being the primary topics and content of the clauses (Givon 1990: 137–138; Halliday 1994: 75).

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14.4.2 The Case Report Body The case report body follows Introduction and consists of three parts: History, Examination/Tests and Treatment. As regards History, it informs about previous diseases that the patient underwent. 3. He was otherwise asymptomatic and had no history of drug use (White et al. 2004). 4. The patient’s history was characterised by poor orthostatic tolerance and an inability to stand upright for more than 2 minutes without fainting (Robertson et al. 2005). 5. There was no history of trauma (Kong et al. 2005). In (3), the word referring to the patient occupies the subject position. (4) and (5) are quite the opposite. Here the history is underscored, yet, while in (4) it is still presented as belonging to the patient, in (5) there is no mention of him/her. As a result, the patient’s textual prominence decreases from (3) and (4) to (5), with (5) being abstracted from him/her. (4) is also an example of the nominalist mode of disease presentation, i.e. one based on the enumeration of symptoms, reactions, conditions, etc. and contributing to the perception of a disease as an entity, i.e. “it” (Blois 1984:97). Consequently, this segment of a case report serves the purpose of imparting information about the diseases that the patient underwent without concentrating on their character or course. Also, what can be observed here is a gradual shift in focus from the patient to disease issues, which announces a more disease-oriented text that is to follow. Examination/Tests addresses the assessment of the patient’s condition, which usually takes place at two levels. The first part of the diagnostic procedure delivers the external evidence based on the doctor’s observation of the patient’s body and its reactions that are interpreted accordingly. 6. She was afebrile and growth was on the 50th centile (Carroll et al. 2005). 7. On examination, she had a large, firm, tender mass in the left lower abdomen which she said she had first noticed a year and a half previously (James 2005). 8. On examination, we found large venous ulcers on both legs, and bilateral ankle oedema (figure) (Sheridan et al. 2004). These observations are restricted to the sensorially perceivable phenomena, hence the level of description reaches only the whole body, its parts and systems. In (6) and (7), the central sentential positions are held by the patients. In (8), it is the condition that is described in abstraction from the patient. Referring to patients as being in a particular condition (cf. 6) contributes to viewing the state as experienced by him/her. “Having” diseases, on the other hand, presents them as “objects”, separate from the patient’s experience (cf. 7 above; Fleischman 1999; Staiano 1986). Furthermore, due to the observable character of the phenomena described here, they are manifested linguistically by the adjectives pertaining to the senses of e.g. sight and feeling, i.e. tender in (7) and bilateral in (8) respectively.

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Physical examination is usually followed by a series of medical tests. Their modes of presentation are as in the following: 9. Her 24-h urinary freecortisol was high at 31,000 nmol/24 h (normal 270), 900 h plasma adrenocorticotropic hormone (ACTH) was high at 204.5 ng/L (normal 50 ng/L) (Keenan et al. 2006). 10. Cystoscopy showed an inflamed bladder that bled on distension, and we sent biopsy samples for analysis (Lo et al. 2004). This subsection is dominated by the quantitative and qualitative results of various medical tests. The dominance of such material reflects the widespread application of modern diagnostic equipment which allows doctors to measure and/or observe every function or element of the human body respectively (Ashcroft 2000). Such a type of material entails the objective account of a disease, i.e. “technology as the agent” (Anspach 1988), as exemplified in (10). It is a mode where diagnostic equipment shows particular results. The fact that the agent is deleted from the text contributes to rendering the information objective and independent from human involvement (“data primacy”, cf. Potter 1996: 153). Furthermore, as this part contains information revealed by laboratory tests, medical description goes to the bottom levels of the hierarchical scale, considering biological processes, usually cellular or molecular in nature. Changes at these levels are not directly perceivable, hence the mode of presenting the results of tests as in (9). (10) exemplifies the focus on body-parts/organs. Here the history of medicine might be helpful in explaining this linguistic phenomenon. According to Virchow (1880), whose work in autopsy and pathological anatomy underlies the biomedical model, all diseases stem from the dysfunction of tissues. Following this medical premise, organs and tissues claimed centrality in medical case writing (NowellSmith 1995:52) as they began to be perceived as the location of diseases. In (10), the isolated organ represents the patient only metonymically. Treatment section is devoted to medical procedures performed on patients with a view to restoring their health. 11. She was treated with intravenous lorazepam for presumed alcohol withdrawal, receiving a total of 432 mg over 10 h (Tuohy et al. 2003). 12. Initial management was conservative but biochemical hyperthyroidism, hepatosplenomegaly, and irritability persisted (Carroll et al. 2005). 13. Painful muscular spasms continued for weeks after extubation and were controlled by supranormal magnesium levels for further 9 days and subsequently baclofen (Sheridan et al. 2004). Generally, this part considers treatment that patients undergo, so there is no question of their agency. Yet, although in (11) the patient is not an active participant but the one to whom medical procedures apply, she is textually prominent thanks to the subject position of the personal pronoun. (11) and (12) can be contrasted, with the latter not mentioning the patient to whom these procedures apply. In (12), rather than to patients themselves, the readers’ attention is drawn to the treatment performed and its specific execution, the so called “medical techniques and

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therapeutics” (Ashcroft 2000: 288). (13) presents the patient’s experience of a particular symptom as “painful”, yet without mentioning the experiencer. Consequently, it may be argued that the aim of this section is to give technical details of a chosen therapy and patients are those who undergo it. Nevertheless, the descriptions tend to omit the very subject of medical procedures and relegate it to the object to which they apply.

14.4.3 Comment/Discussion Comment/Discussion discusses the examined case of a disease with reference to the already available research and draws more general conclusions. 14. Her lack of cardiovascular instability may reflect the chronicity of the hypovolaemia and activation of the renin angiotensin system (Tuohy et al. 2003). 15. Although vasculitis remains a possible cause of stroke in our patient, the multiple territorial ischaemic lesions in the setting of atrial fibrillation and cardiomyopathy make embolism more likely (Libman et al. 2005). 16. Many of the reported cases are children and only two cases have survived (White et al. 2004). In this section, the authors refer to a particular aspect of the patient’s condition/ treatment rather than to the whole person (cf. 14). In (15), the patient referent does not occur either in the subject or object position but in a prepositional phrase with the meaning of location, which images him/her as a container (cf. Lakoff and Johnson 1980). In (16), the word case does not refer to an occurrence of a particular disease but to the patient. As a result, patient imaging in the final section of a case report refers not to the patient as the “whole self” (Wade and Halligan 2004: 1400) but to a single aspect of his/her condition/treatment under examination.

14.5

Conclusion

If all three parts are considered, the patient’s textual prominence decreases from Introduction (his/her account of an illness), through Examination/Tests and Treatment (numerical or graphic values and methods of a chosen therapy taking priority) to Comment/Discussion where the information about a disease must be abstracted from a particular patient. In other words, while the beginning describes an individual’s experience of illness, the rest of the report is constructed as a scientifically objective report about a disease. In this case, when the account of treatment is given, the patient’s mental/bodily reactions as well as body-parts and biological processes are rendered separate from him/her. Nowell-Smith (1995) concludes that “[m]edical cases are stories not of pain and fear but of medical intervention, and the leading characters are doctors,

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instruments, and organs” (1995:64). Linguistically, it is achieved by choosing medical procedures and treated body-parts/organs for the subject position in a sentence or the sentential absence of the patient. Consequently, although the goal of a particular section has bearing on patient imaging, in many cases, the option of the depersonalised mode is chosen irrespective of the type of information imparted.

References Aarts, B. 1997. English syntax and argumentation. Houndmills: Macmillan Press. Adams Smith, D. E. 1984. Medical discourse: Aspects of author’s comment. English for Specific Purposes 3: 25–36. Anspach, R. R. 1988. Notes on the sociology of medical discourse: The language of case presentation. Journal of Health and Social Behaviour 29: 357–375. Ashcroft, R. E. 2000. Teaching for patient-centred ethics. Medicine, Health Care and Philosophy 3: 287–295. Atkinson, D. 2001. Scientific discourse across history: A combined multi-dimensional/rhetorical analysis of the Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society of London. In: Variation in English: Multi-dimensional studies, eds. S. Conrad and D. Biber, 45–46. Harlow: Longman. Atkinson, P. 1995. Medical talk and medical work. London: Sage Publications. Bazerman, Ch. 1988. Shaping written knowledge. The genre and activity of the experimental article in science. Madison: The University of Wisconsin Press. Blois, M. S. 1984. Information and medicine. Berkeley: University of California Press. Bond, J. and S. Bond. 1986. Sociology and health care. Edinburgh: Churchill Livingstone. Brennan, S. E. 1995. Centring attention in discourse. Language & Cognitive Processes 10: 137–167. Carroll, D. N., P. Kamath and L. Stewart. 2005. Congenital viral infection? The Lancet 365: 1110. Chafe, W. 1976. Giveness, contrastiveness, definiteness, subject, topic and point of view. In: Subject and topic, ed. C. N. Lee, 25–55. New York: Academic Press. Childs, N. L. and W. N. Mercer. 1996. Brief report: Late improvement in consciousness after posttraumatic vegetative state. The New England Journal of Medicine 334: 24–25. Firbas, J. 1974. Some aspects of the Czechoslovak approach to problems of functional sentence perspective. In: Papers on functional sentence perspective, ed. F. Danes, 11–37. Prague: Academia. Fleischman, S. 1999. I am. . ., I have. . ., I suffer from. . .: A linguist reflects on the language of illness and disease. Journal of Medical Humanities 20: 3–32. Givon, T. 1984. Syntax. A functional-typological introduction. Vol. 1. Amsterdam: John Benjamins Publishing Company. Givon, T. 1990. Syntax. A functional-typological introduction. Vol. 2. Amsterdam: John Benjamins Publishing Company. Gotti, M. and F. Salager-Meyer eds. 2006. Advances in medical discourse analysis – oral and written contexts. Bern: Peter Lang. Greenbaum, S. and R. Quirk. 1990. A student’s grammar of the English language. Harlow: Longman. Grice, F. and A. Kramer-Dahl. 1992. Grammaticalising the medical case history. In: Language, text and context: Essays in stylistics, ed. M. Toolan, 56–90. London: Routledge. Halliday, M.A.K. 1994. An introduction to functional grammar. London: Edward Arnold. Hyland, K. 2001. Humble servants of the discipline? Self-mention in research articles. English for Specific Purposes 20: 207–226. James, R. F. 2005. Rectus sheath haematoma. The Lancet 365: 1824.

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Keenan, N., W. S. Dhillo, G. R. Williams and J. F. Todd. 2006. Unexpected shortness of breath in a patient with Cushing’s syndrome. The Lancet 367: 446. Kenny, N. P. and B. L. Beagan. 2004. The patient as text – a challenge for problem-based learning. Medical Education 38: 1071–1079. KIAP – Cultural Identity in Academic Prose: National vs. discipline-specific. 2006. http://www. uib.no/kiap/index-e.htm. Accessed 1 July 2008. Knowles, M. and R. Moon. 2006. Introducing metaphor. London: Routledge. Kong, M.-F., R. Jogia, S. Jackson, M. Quinn, P. McNally and M. Davies. 2005. Malignant melanoma presenting as a foot ulcer. The Lancet 366: 1750. Lakoff, G. and M. Johnson. 1980. Metaphors we live by. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press. Libman, R. B., B. L. Menna and S. Gulati. 2005. Consequences of ephedra use in an athlete. The Lancet 366: 522. Lindley-Jones, M., D. Lewis and J. L. Southgate. 2004. Recurrent tetanus. The Lancet 363: 2048. Lo, S., J. Noble, I. Bowler and B. Angus. 2004. Dysuria and a headache. The Lancet 364: 1554. Myers, G. 1990. Writing biology: The social construction of popular science. Madison, WI: University of Wisconsin Press. Nijhof, G. 1998. Naming as naturalisation in medical discourse. Journal of Pragmatics 30: 735–753. Nowell-Smith, H. 1995. Nineteenth-century narrative case histories: An inquiry into stylistics and history. CBMH/BCHM 12: 47–67. Paivio, A. 1979. Imagery and verbal processes. Hillsdale: Lawrence Erlbaum. Potter, J. 1996. Representing reality: Discourse, rhetoric and social construction. London: Sage. Robertson, D., E. M. Garland, S. R. Raj and N. Demartinis. 2005. Marathon runner with severe autonomic failure. The Lancet 366: 513. Rowley-Jolivet, E. 2007. A genre study of If in medical discourse. In: Language and discipline perspectives on academic discourse, ed. K. Fløttum, 176–201. Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. Salager-Meyer, F., G. Defives, C. Jensen, and M. de Filipis. 1989. Communicative function and grammatical variations in medical English scholarly papers: A genre analysis study. In: Special language: From humans thinking to thinking machines, eds. C. Laure´n and M. Nordman, 151-160. Philadelphia: Multilingual Matters. Sheridan, E. A., J. Cepeda, R. De Palma, M. M. Brett and K. Nagendran. 2004. A drug user with a sore throat. The Lancet 364: 1286. Smith, C. S. 2003. Modes of discourse. The local structure of texts. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Staiano, K. V. 1986. Interpreting signs of illness. A case study in medical semiotics. Berlin & New York: Mouton de Gruyter. Taavitsainen, I. and P. Pahta. 2000. Conventions of professional writing: The medical case report in a historical perspective. Journal of English Linguistics 28: 60–76. Tuohy, K. A., W. J. Nicholson and F. Schiffman. 2003. Agitation by sedation. The Lancet 361: 308. Van Dijk, T. A. 1980. Macrostructures. An interdisciplinary study of global structures in discourse, interaction, and cognition. Hillsdale: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, Publishers. Van Rijn-Van Tongeren, G. W. 1997. Metaphors in medical texts. Amsterdam: Rodopi. Virchow, R. 1880. Post-mortem examinations: With especial reference to medico-legal practice. (Translated by T. Smith.) Philadelphia: Presley Blackiston. Wade, D. T. and P. W. Halligan. 2004. Do biomedical models of illness make for good healthcare systems? British Medical Journal 329: 1398–1401. White, J. M., R. D. Barker, J. R. Salisbury, A. J. Fife, S. B. Lucas, D. C. Warhurst and E. M. Higgins. 2004. Granulomatous amoebic encephalitis. The Lancet 364: 220.

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Chapter 15

Beyond and within Standard English: Categories, Category Boundaries and Fuzziness Maciej Rataj

Abstract Standard dialects are frequently thought of as fixed and stable entities which possess clear boundaries and a set of criteria that allow us to recognise easily which texts or utterances are standard and which are not. This view, as has been proved by sociolinguists, is an oversimplification and idealisation since real-world standard dialects are best viewed both as fuzzy categories and as members of a large category centred around a prototype. The paper attempts to present a view of standard dialects inspired by the prototype theory and present-day sociolinguistics and exemplify this view by means of Standard British English. The analysis presents the notion of category in Standard English at three levels. Firstly, particular fragments of texts and utterances cannot be shown to be doubtlessly standard or non-standard, this issue being further complicated by the frequent confusion of typically spoken and typically written norms. Secondly, Standard English cannot be treated as a fixed entity because of its optional variability, its diversity in terms of style and register and the considerable number of local standard varieties of English throughout the English-speaking world. Finally, considering Standard English as possessing a long history of continued development towards minimal variation in form and maximal variation in function is also an idealisation of what has actually been a more complex process, in particular because, as linguists agree, language standardisation is not a fact but a process. All this leads to the conclusion that standard dialects can be analysed in terms of cognitive categorisation and prototypicality.

M. Rataj (*) University of Gdan´sk, Gdan´sk, Poland e-mail: [email protected] M. Pawlak and J. Bielak (eds.), New Perspectives in Language, Discourse and Translation Studies, Second Language Learning and Teaching, DOI 10.1007/978-3-642-20083-0_15, # Springer-Verlag Berlin Heidelberg 2011

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Introduction

Standard dialects1 are frequently conceived of as fixed and stable entities with negligible variation in form and a finite set of criteria which clearly distinguish them from non-standard dialects and facilitate recognising whether or not a given sample of speech or writing represents a given standard dialect. This oversimplified view was prevalent before the dawn of modern linguistics, i.e. before the acrolects (prestigious varieties) of some languages became known as their standard dialects, and is still held by some linguists, in particular those who are in favour of prescriptivism. One instance of standard-nonstandard dichotomy is Stewart’s (1968) typology of language varieties, in which he uses a set of binary features, namely “standardisation”, “autonomy”, “historicity” and “vitality” (Stewart 1968: 534–536), to classify several types of what he calls “linguistic systems”. In his set (see Stewart 1968: 537) the standard possesses all the four attributes, and even though elsewhere in the text Stewart mentions multimodal standardisation in such languages as English, including endonormative and exonormative standardisation (i.e. standardisation focusing on local and foreign norms respectively), his standard linguistic system category fails to account for the complexity and diversity of the real-world standard dialects and the processes of standardisation they undergo. The most noticeable problem here, as may be argued, involves regarding standardisation not as a process which is never complete but as an attribute that is either present or absent. In 1962 Ferguson, as quoted by Haugen ([1966] 1974: 107), made an attempt at considering language standardisation as a gradable phenomenon, labelling languages with multimodal standardisation as St. 1 and giving St. 2 to languages with a “single, widely accepted norm which is felt to be appropriate with only minor modifications or variations for all purposes for which the language is used”. Together with the “utilisation in writing” scale ranging from W 0 to W 3, the St. degrees describe standardised languages somewhat more accurately. Nonetheless, it is felt that a different approach is needed to reflect the complexity of standard dialects. Other questionable opinions include the belief that standard dialects are formed by single people or organisations (see Deumert and Vandenbussche 2003: 455) or that standard dialects must not be allowed to change in terms of grammar, spelling, word meaning or pronunciation, as all language change equals decline (a stance discussed by Aitchison 2001: 4–7). Needless to say, every standard dialect is embedded in the community of its users and is therefore associated with a wealth of extralinguistic factors, an issue that will not be discussed in detail in this paper. 1 The term “standard dialect” is used here instead of “standard language” for two reasons: firstly, in a natural language a standard dialect is but a language variety and not a complete language and it is only in the case of artificial languages that the term “standard language” is fully justified; secondly, we must not mistake standard dialects for standardised languages and the term “standard language” may lead to such confusion. For a discussion of the issue see Hudson (1980: 31–32, 34), Crystal (1994: 109–114) and Trudgill (1999: 118).

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To proceed, if the standard dialect is considered as a category, the abovementioned claims put forward by Stewart (1968), Ferguson (1962) and others make it a category consistent with the logical or classical view of categorisation, as discussed by Ungerer and Schmid (1996) amongst others. Firstly, Stewart’s “standardisation”, “autonomy”, “historicity” and “vitality” or Haugen’s (1974: 97–111) “selection”, “codification”, “elaboration of function”, and “acceptance” serve as necessary and/or sufficient conditions which allow one to draw the boundaries of the standard dialect category and classify particular dialects as standard or non-standard, all of them being equal members of the category (see Fig. 15.1). Secondly, various levels of linguistic structure (morphology, phonology, syntax, etc.) contain rules and units which may be regarded as the necessary or sufficient attributes of particular standard dialects, making it possible to decide whether or not a text or utterance represents a given standard variety (see Table 15.1). Finally, the logical view enables the linguist to imagine language standardisation as a continued development towards “minimal variation in form” and “maximal variation in function”, as used by Haugen (1974: 107) (see Fig. 15.2).

STANDARD DIALECT Standard English, Standard French, Standard Russian, etc.

VERNACULAR African American Vernacular, etc.

CLASSICAL LANGUAGE Latin, Classical Greek, etc.

Fig. 15.1 The standard dialect category and some other linguistic systems according to the logical view

Table 15.1 The standardness of language samples according to the logical view Standardness (Standard British Features English) Text He goes to school every day Conforms to the rules of Standard English grammar, punctuation, vocabulary, etc. + He going to shool – lah. Contains non-standard features of grammar, vocabulary, spelling, etc. Utterance /hi gəʊz tə sku:1 ‘evri deɪ/ /xi ‘gɔwiŋk tʊ ʃʊ:1 1ɑ:/

Conforms to the rules of RP, Standard English grammar, vocabulary, etc. + Contains non-standard features of grammar, vocabulary, pronunciation, etc.

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formal variation 30 formal variation 25 20 15 10 5 0 1

2

3 time

4

5

Fig. 15.2 Variation in form in the standardisation process according to the logical view

The problem with the logical view, when applied to the issue under discussion, is that it misrepresents the nature of standard dialects, for they are not categories with homogeneous structure or clear boundaries; nor is any one standard dialect a regular set of units, e.g. sentences, which are its equally good members. Finally, living languages do not easily submit to rigid codification and they invariably retain some optional variability, the extent of which may be difficult to assess or describe. Hence it may be argued that a different approach is needed, one based on categorisation as viewed by cognitive linguistics, with categories which have prototypes, central and marginal members and fuzzy boundaries. Standard English, in particular Standard British English, will be used throughout the analysis to serve as an instance of such a category.

15.2

The Prototype Structure of the Standard Dialect Category

As has been mentioned, despite the generally traditional approach they adopt, Stewart (1968) and Ferguson (1962) realise that not all standard dialects and not all standardised languages are the same, as the former differ in terms of the degree of codification, elaboration of function, historicity and numerous other factors (see also Hudson 1980: 34). Furthermore, many of these attributes cannot be expressed as scalar quantities. For instance, while it is possible to ask a cross-section of a given speech community whether or not they consider the standard dialect of their mother tongue prestigious and thus obtain a certain percentage value, doing so will fail to take into account the complexity of prestige in language, in particular its historical, sociolinguistic and psycholinguistic background. Needless to say, prestige is just one of many factors concerning standard dialects which are difficult to put in numbers. If, however, we imagine a prototypical standard dialect that

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possesses a number of attributes which linguists and laypeople alike may expect it to have and put it in the centre of a category with a heterogeneous structure, we will obtain a more truthful picture of the standard dialects of natural languages (see Fig. 15.3). Fig. 15.3 The standard dialect category according to the cognitive view

STANDARD DIALECT prototype

If we now attempt to place Standard English somewhere in this category, we will encounter two major difficulties. First of all, English possesses not one standard dialect but several of them; secondly, even the number of standard Englishes is disputable (e.g. Microsoft Office 2007 lists 19 national varieties of English for spelling and grammar correction purposes). One viable alternative is to decide that there exists one standard English in each English-speaking country, and reduce our exemplifying discussion to Standard British English (SBE), rejecting the theory of multiple standards within British English. To proceed to Standard British English, we may now decide how close to the prototype it lies. The present discussion does not allow a detailed analysis; however, one may easily observe that although SBE is without doubt a standard dialect which has been thoroughly described and prescribed for generations, it differs from the image of a typical standard dialect in several respects. First, it is not the only standard dialect of the language in question; consider the notion of Englishes, as used in a number of papers: for instance for Kachru and Smith (2009: 3) world Englishes are the result of “the acculturation and nativisation of English in various parts of the world”. Second, while it has been codified to a considerable extent, it is not codified so rigidly as Standard Metropolitan French (see Hudson 1980: 34) and lacks a standardising body such as the authoritative French Academy or the advisory Council for the Polish Language (attempts to form such an academy made in the eighteenth century failed). Besides, as will be mentioned below, Standard British English allows a certain measure of optional variability. Fourth, some linguists have questioned the status of Received Pronunciation (RP) as an inherent part of SBE (e.g. Trudgill 1999: 118–119, 123). As regards SBE and RP in particular, they are used by a minority of the British, and RP, with perhaps fewer than two per cent of the British population using it in the early twenty-first century (see Crystal 2006: 184), is regarded as a sign of snobbery or conceit by certain native speakers of British English (see Crystal 2006: 183–184). All this and many other factors not mentioned in the present discussion justify the placement of SBE at a certain distance from the centrally located prototype (see Fig. 15.4), although not very close to the category boundary.

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Fig. 15.4 Standard British English as an element of the standard dialect category according to the cognitive view

STANDARD DIALECT SBE prototype

In cognitive linguistics, categories possess fuzzy boundaries, often partly merge with neighbouring categories and may even form continua. This is the case with regional dialects (consider the Dutch-German continuum between the Netherlands and Austria) and the standard dialect category as well, for non-linguists may have difficulties deciding if a given language variety is standard and even linguists may treat Classical Latin, Esperanto or the written Chancery Standard of William Caxton (see Burchfield 1986: 22, 147; Crystal 2006: 15–17) as peripheral examples of standard dialects which at the same time also belong to other categories. One may conclude this part by deciding which standard dialect is more prototypical than SBE. Apparently, Standard Polish might be suggested as a case in point, as it is the only standardised dialect of Polish, it is, generally speaking, prestigious among Poles and it has only one standard accent associated with it. Owing to the demographic changes following World War II, numerous Poles, in particular educated city dwellers, are native speakers of either Standard Polish or a levelled dialect which is not considerably divergent from the standard. Furthermore, the codification of Standard Polish has been supervised by the Council for the Polish Language, and earlier by other more or less authoritative panels of experts. Last but not least, the teaching of Standard Polish has never aroused as much controversy as the great debate about the National Curriculum for England and Wales of the 1990s, discussed at length by Cameron (1995) and by Carter (1994).

15.3

The Prototype Structure of Particular Standard Dialects as Categories

In the previous section particular standard dialects are considered to be elements of a large standard dialect category centred around a prototype. These elements, however, may themselves be regarded as categories. In such categories units, e.g. words, and features, e.g. syntactic, phonological and morphological rules, function as attributes. Consequently, the texts and utterances which consist of standard units and comply with standard rules are prototypical and those which clearly do not are not part of the category. Certainly, there also exists a wide spectrum of more or less prototypical instances of standard dialect texts and utterances,

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including borderline cases. The same holds true for smaller units such as spoken or written sentences. We may now ask how to decide whether a given text or utterance is indeed part of a given standard dialect. Unfortunately, three problems that complicate the issue present themselves here. To begin with, it is difficult to establish what percentage of non-standard features or errors related to one’s language competence or performance is permissible in a text or utterance (in other words, at which point the standardness test is failed) and which features are more salient, i.e. more nonstandard, than others. In the case of SBE, is the use of renumeration instead of renumeration a less serious problem than multiple negation or a dangling participle? And if so, who is to decide? Next, even in the languages which have been well described and analysed the standardness of certain norms and units remains uncertain. As regards Standard English, while the word ain’t and the form I seen instead of I saw or I have seen are clearly non-standard, using a preposition at the end of a relative clause and splitting infinitives have long been a bone of contention, being stigmatised by some and regarded as standard, though perhaps informal, by others. All this is connected with a variety of linguistic and extralinguistic phenomena, including language change, which naturally affects standard dialects, but also prescriptivism and the complaint tradition present in English, in Britain and elsewhere, as well as in other languages (as discussed by Milroy and Milroy 1998: 24–46; McWhorter 1998: 7–8). Finally, numerous linguists postulate that in every standard dialect we are dealing not with one but with two sets of norms. In Polish linguistics, for example, many researchers differentiate between the model norm (norma wzorcowa), which is associated with diligent and conscious use of language in official contexts, and the common or colloquial norm (norma potoczna), which suits informal contexts (see Podlawska and S´wia˛tek-Brzezin´ska 2008: 4–5). In Anglophone linguistics and the description of English many experts now tend to recognise a set of norms typical of spoken usage, which permit more formal variation than the written language, with Carter going so far as to claim that e.g. standalone relative clauses and double main verbs are features of spoken Standard English (see Carter 1994: 11–12). Having briefly considered the difficulties pertinent to the classification of language samples as standard or non-standard, we may claim that the only viable solution is to ask native speakers of a particular language or perhaps only native speakers of a given standard dialect to judge the standardness of particular units such as sentences, features such as distinct phonemes or norms such as word order rules. Fig. 15.5 depicts standardness in SBE from the viewpoint of categorisation and is based on fragments of an unpublished small-scale survey of language prototypicality judgements conducted by the present author in 2006 as part of his Master’s thesis research among about twenty native speakers of British English. Naturally, it makes no claims to exhaustiveness but instead it serves to exemplify how a more complete study of the issue could be conducted. From the figure it may be inferred that the respondents are likely to regard language standardness as a gradable phenomenon rather than a dichotomous feature and that it is in borderline cases that the greatest differences in opinion among them tend to occur. Although

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the survey cannot be said to represent the language attitudes of a cross-section of British society, conducted as it was mostly among young members of forums on language and English usage, its results show certain patterns which may be analysed in greater detail and lead to general conclusions concerning Standard English if a large-scale survey of a similar kind is undertaken in the future.

SBE (1) prototype

(3) (2)

(4)

Sentences 1. John does not work here. 2. Jane has recently moved to a quaint three-rooms cottage. 3. How R U 2day? 4. Hi did not si nothink spezial thear.

Average score from 0 (typical of SBE) to 5 (non-standard) 0 1.7 4 4.8

Phonetic features 1. Distinguishing between /ɑɪ/ and /eɪ/ 2. The long vowel /ɔ:/ instead of /ʊə/ 3. Stressing the final syllable in every polysyllabic word2

Average score from 0 (typical of SBE) to 5 (non-standard) 0.1 1.9 3.7

Fig. 15.5 Standard British English as a category according to the cognitive view

15.4

The Standardisation Process form the Viewpoint of Cognitive Linguistics

As was stated in the introduction, natural languages do not easily yield to rigid codification. Thus even in standard dialects there is invariably a margin of optional variability which must not be underestimated. If we also take account of the aforementioned norms and units whose standardness is uncertain, we obtain an image of a category with fuzzy boundaries not only in synchronic but also in diachronic depiction of the standardisation process.

2 None of the phonetic features included in the survey was considered to be entirely non-standard by the respondents.

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“Minimal variation in form” and “maximal variation in function” (Haugen 1974: 107) may be the ultimate objectives of linguistic standardisation but they are practically unattainable and perhaps also not altogether desirable. They are unachievable because every natural language, including its standard dialect or dialects, is invariably subject to the human factor, e.g. idiolects and performance errors by an individual despite his or her fluency in the standard, and multiple changes in progress taking place at any moment of its history. It has been shown that attempts at reducing variation to a minimum or stopping language change are doomed to failure, as is the case with the efforts on the part of the French Academy (L’Acade´mie Franc¸aise) to perfect Standard Metropolitan French, or as Leith (1997: 50) puts it, “to fix the unfixable”. The supposedly ideal state of codification and functional elaboration is not a desirable state of affairs either, for if we imagine a standard dialect which is fixed, arrested in its formal development and possessing its unique means to express every possible concept related to human experience, it is bound to be impoverished in terms of style and register and practically dead, as no language users will be able to meet its strict formal requirements sufficiently well to be considered its native or habitual speakers. Instead, what we need to take into consideration is the standard dialect in a state of flux with fuzzy boundaries in its development. These fuzzy boundaries relate both to codification, as optional variability never disappears, and to elaboration of function, as arguably each standard dialect occasionally resorts to calque and borrowing to supplement its lexical resources. Figs. 15.6 and 15.7 are an attempt at depicting the standardisation process with the aforementioned issues taken into account, with lighter colours near the edges indicating optional variability in Fig. 15.6 and borrowed or copied means of expressing certain concepts in Fig. 15.7. The fact that any clear boundary whatsoever is shown facilitates the viewing of the graph instead of indicating that such a boundary is objectively present. It also needs to be explained that the

formal variation

30

formal variation 25 20 15 10 5 0 1

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Fig. 15.6 Variation in form in the standardisation process according to the cognitive view

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functional variation 30 functional variation 25 20 15 10 5 0 1

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Fig. 15.7 Variation in function in the standardisation process according to the cognitive view

numbers on the vertical scale are abstract, as standardness is immeasurable, as was stated in the introduction.

15.5

Conclusions

To summarise, the cognitive view of categorization applied to classifying standard dialects appears to be a good model on the whole. Several arguments in its favour may be enumerated. Firstly, to use an expression from the business jargon, it allows us to think outside the box, i.e. to consider the standard dialect category and particular standard dialects not as separate entities characterised by dichotomous category membership and homogeneous structure but as categories with prototypes and membership as a gradable feature. The latter entails fuzzy category boundaries and sometimes even the partial merging of categories, e.g. Standard British English and Standard American English in the case of what is known as Mid-Atlantic English.3 Secondly, teaching this view to students of languages, in particular trainee teachers and translators of foreign languages, allows them to see the complexity involved in standard dialects and helps them to avoid prejudice involving e.g. categorising language and its users as good and cultured as opposed to bad and uncultured. Thirdly, realising how standardisation and language change work may prevent people to whom Crystal (2006) and McWhorter (1998) refer as “language pundits” from complaining about the supposed decline of standard dialects and the accompanying moral decay of their users. These of course are somewhat indirect consequences of applying 3 Although some people consider Mid-Atlantic English to be an accent, it may be claimed to be a full dialect which is levelled on the levels of vocabulary and grammar in addition to pronunciation. This in turn is related to the concepts of World Standard English or International English, which are not analysed in the present discussion.

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the cognitive model to the issue in question and contemporary sociolinguists, e.g. Deborah Cameron, David Crystal, Lesley and James Milroy, and Peter Trudgill have dealt without it; however, we may argue that the cognitive view presents some ideas of present-day sociolinguistics sufficiently well to be applied for the purposes of illustration of these theories. This usefulness is even more visible where sociolinguists occasionally refer to concepts related to cognitive linguistics, e.g. McWhorter (1998: 52–54) talks about “fuzzy logic” when referring to dialect continua. Since, as discussed above, standard dialects may also be considered as continua, McWhorter’s term fits in well in the present discussion. We should nevertheless bear in mind that the cognitive view of standard dialects is not devoid of problems, as it does not allow us to use a rigid taxonomy of linguistic systems or clearly decide what constitutes an error or an unacceptable form. To put it differently, at times prescriptivism is indispensable, e.g. in foreign language teaching, as instead of discussing the suitability or standardness of a certain form of structure it is far more suitable to provide clear signals as to language correctness or what is known as good usage. In a similar vein, in mother tongue instruction to young learners, providing clear rules is also less confusing that explaining optional variability and differences between regional and social dialects or styles and registers to uncomprehending pupils. To conclude, in certain contexts we may use the logical model without hesitation; we should not forget, however, that other ways of looking at languages are just as important.

References Aitchison, J. 2001. Language change: Progress or decay? (third edition). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Burchfield, R. 1986. The English language. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Cameron, D. 1995. Verbal hygiene. London: Routledge. Carter, R. 1994. Standard Englishes in teaching and learning. In Who owns English?, eds. M. Hayhoe and S. Parker, 10–23. Buckingham: Open University Press. Crystal, D. 1994. Which English – or English Which? In Who owns English?, eds. M. Hayhoe and S. Parker, 109–114. Buckingham: Open University Press. Crystal, D. 2006. The fight for English: How language pundits ate, shot and left. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Deumert, A. and V. Vandenbussche. 2003. Research directions in the study of language standardization. In Germanic standardizations: Past to present, eds. A. Deumert and V. Vandenbussche, 455–470. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Ferguson, C. 1962. The language factor in national development. Anthropological Linguistics 4: 23–27. Haugen, E. [1966] 1974. Dialect, language, nation. In Sociolinguistics: Selected readings, eds. J. B. Pride and J. Holmes. 97–111. Harmondsworth: Penguin. Hudson, R. 1980. Sociolinguistics. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Kachru, Y. and L. E. Smith. 2009. The Karmic cycle of world Englishes: Some futuristic constructs. World Englishes 28: 1–14. McWhorter, J. 1998. Word on the street: Debunking the myth of “pure” standard English. New York: Basic Books.

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Milroy, J. and L. Milroy. 1998. Authority in language: Investigating language prescription and standardization. (third edition). London: Routledge and Kegan Paul. Podlawska, D. and M. S´wia˛tek-Brzezin´ska. 2008. Słownik poprawnej polszczyzny. Warsaw: PWN. Stewart, W. 1968. A sociolinguistic typology for describing national multilingualism. In Readings in the sociology of language, ed. J. Fishman, 531–545. The Hague: Mouton. Trudgill, P. 1999. Standard English: What it isn’t. In Standard English: The widening debate, ed. T. Bex and R. J. Watts, 117–128. London: Routledge. Ungerer, F. and H.-J. Schmid. 1996. An introduction to cognitive linguistics. London: Longman.

Part V

Translation

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Chapter 16

Construction Grammar as a Framework for Describing Translation: A Prolegomenon Izabela Szyman´ska

Abstract This paper explores Construction Grammar as a potential framework to describe translation, arguing that it is a model of language capable of addressing in an integrated way a wide range of problems recognized by translation studies, without drawing a sharp distinction between the linguistic and the cultural issues. Construction Grammar is a non-modular, non-derivational and inherently functional model of language. The knowledge of the language user is represented as a network of constructions. A construction is understood as a language-specific pairing of form and meaning/function, a cluster of properties cutting across the traditional modules of language description, which may include phonetic, morphological, syntactic, semantic, pragmatic and discourse properties. Constructions thus understood include morphemes, lexical items, phrasal patterns, sentence patterns, idioms, intonation patterns, discourse patterns, etc. Construction Grammar declares the aim of accounting within an integrated framework for all the conventions that the speaker of a language uses in communication. It is argued that the constructional view of language and the scope of the constructional model are highly convergent with the needs of translation studies and can offer a range of tools to address various aspects of the translation process. This article focuses on the possibility of describing the lack of exact equivalence between the constructions of the source and the target language, and the possibility of identifying very precisely the so-called gains and losses and through them the translator’s priorities in decision-making.

16.1

Introduction

This paper is intended as a general outline of some premises of my research (Szyman´ska 2011) which explores the applicability of the linguistic framework known as Construction Grammar (henceforth CxG) to translation studies. The CxG I. Szyman´ska (*) University of Warsaw, Warsaw, Poland e-mail: [email protected] M. Pawlak and J. Bielak (eds.), New Perspectives in Language, Discourse and Translation Studies, Second Language Learning and Teaching, DOI 10.1007/978-3-642-20083-0_16, # Springer-Verlag Berlin Heidelberg 2011

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framework has not yet been explored from this perspective, so the work mentioned attempts to “stake out a new territory” for translation studies. Since the territory in question is obviously vast, this paper can only address a few selected issues. Its aim is to show some features of CxG which make it a model of language capable of addressing in an integrated way a wide range of problems recognized by translation studies. By way of introduction, some comments need to be made about translation studies. The development of this discipline in recent decades has been marked by several “turns”, as it is put by Snell-Hornby (2006), signalling significant changes of focus. One important turn is the shift of interest from lexico-syntactic problems in translation to the pragmatic and textual aspects, which has led to exploring the importance of discourse, register, text-types and usage-related factors in the shaping of the translated text. Another vital development is the so-called cultural turn, whose proponents focus on the extra-linguistic determinants of the process of translation, such as the purpose assigned to the translated text by its commissioner, the aesthetic and ideological requirements of the target culture, power relations, the status of particular texts and genres in the target culture, the accepted norms of translation practice, the profile and the cultural background of the targeted addressee, and many others which may be assumed to influence the decisions taken by the translator and thus shape the target text. The chief postulate of the cultural turn is to abandon “painstaking comparisons between originals and translations” and move “beyond” the text (Lefevere and Bassnett 1990: 4), which sometimes results in juxtaposing the act of translation viewed as “linguistic transcoding” and as “cultural transfer” (Snell-Hornby 1990), and in suggesting that translation is primarily cultural transfer, not linguistic transcoding, since language cannot be separated from culture. Actually, however, the juxtaposition is somewhat artificial, since – reversing the perspective – we can also say that whatever extra-linguistic/cultural factors influence the translator, their impact has to be traced in the text and, as is pointed out by Tabakowska (1997: 29), all texts are made of language. Acknowledging the insights of the cultural-turn approaches, when theorizing about translation we would like to balance the two perspectives, for instance to find tools to describe how the undeniable extra-linguistic influence is expressed/realized in language, i.e. to address the micro-level of target text production, together with the well-known problem of the lack of exact equivalence between the signs of two languages and the influence of the available resources of the target language on the production of the target text. If we accept the inherent link between the linguistic and the extra-linguistic in translation, linguistic approaches, somewhat overshadowed by the cultural turn, may turn out to be “new research avenues to explore for further advancement of translation studies” (Anderman 2007: 62). However, the gradual extension of the scope of interest in translation studies signals that a fruitful linguistic approach to translation should be based on a framework that can at least to some extent accommodate the insights of both the pragmatic turn and the cultural turn, that is it has to provide tools for describing individual expressions from the point of view of the language system, but also of their contribution to the text and of their

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usage, i.e. include pragmatics, and it has to assume that there is no sharp division between the “linguistic” and the “extra-linguistic” knowledge. We would like tools that can describe both the motivations of translation choices and their mechanism, taking into consideration that the translation process, in accordance with the abovementioned findings, can be envisaged as taking place on two planes – on the serial plane of interpreting ST expressions and producing corresponding TT expressions, as well as on the text-structural plane which involves pragmatic, inter-textual and socio-cultural knowledge necessary in interpreting and producing texts (Holmes 2006: 418). The following discussion will present CxG as a linguistic model whose scope is largely convergent with so-defined needs of translation studies, and which has a potential to address a range of translation issues within an integrated system.

16.2

Construction Grammar

CxG was initiated by Charles Fillmore in the late 1980s, and it is in a way a continuation of his previous ideas, Case Grammar (1968) and Frame Semantics (1977, 1985, 1987, among others), underlain by the interest in the exploration of the semantic, pragmatic and functional motivation of linguistic patterns. Since the publication of Fillmore’s early works on CxG (1988, Fillmore et al. 1988) the framework has been developed in various directions, producing several trends, of which the best known is probably the approach represented by Adele Goldberg (1995, 2003, 2006), which she herself calls Cognitive Construction Grammar (CCxG).1 This paper will only concentrate on some of the general premises of the constructional view of language which are shared by all of them and which can be considered important for addressing problems of translation. Within CxG it is assumed that that the linguistic competence of a language user ¨ stman 2004: 23), i.e. is best represented in terms of constructions (Fried and O conventional learned pairings of form and meaning. Form may include phonetic, morphological and syntactic properties, while meaning is understood very broadly, bordering on function and including semantic, pragmatic and discourse (information structure) properties (Croft 2007: 472). A construction can be envisaged as a building block that the user of a language has in his/her repertoire, a cluster of properties from various traditionally differentiated layers or domains of language (Fillmore 1988: 35; Fillmore et al. 1988: 534), as is shown in (1). CxG is a nonmodular model; it does not split language into modules whose relations have to be described; the relations between various aspects of the linguistic sign are internal to that sign (Croft 2007: 472), which stresses the inseparability of form and function.

1

See Croft (2007) or Goldberg (2006: 213–226) for an exposition of different constructional approaches.

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1. Discourse Pragmatic Semantic Syntactic Morphological Phonetic and prosodic

Constructions are abstract blueprints, generalizations; they may be of various degrees of schematicity, so in some constructions some of those domains will not be represented. Constructions are elements of the language system, templates which license the use of actual expressions and are recognized by the language user as wholes in the process of interpretation. Actual expressions used in communication are referred to as constructs, i.e. instantiations of constructions. A construct, e.g. an actual sentence, is usually an instantiation of several constructions. Constructions include morphemes, lexical items, phrasal patterns, sentence patterns, idioms, intonation patterns, discourse patterns, etc. Any language pattern that is conventionalized and unpredictable and has some functional properties (semantic and/or pragmatic) can be considered a construction. CxG is based on the postulate of the full coverage of linguistic data, i.e. of describing all the conventions that the ¨ stman 2004: 23–24). Consequently, speaker can use in communication (Fried and O it does not assume a sharp distinction between the “core” (regular/productive) and “peripheral” (idiomatic/unproductive) elements of the system, envisaging them as a cline (Goldberg and Jackendoff 2004: 532) and paying much attention to the “periphery” end of the cline, for instance idioms and patterns of limited productivity, pointing out that they are an important part of communication which cannot be ¨ stman 2004: 15–16). neglected in the description of language (Fried and O One of the semantic properties of constructions is that they are underlain by and may activate conceptual structures which schematize human experience, termed interpretive frames (or scenes). This idea is drawn from Frame Semantics (sometimes also called “scenes-and-frames semantics”), Fillmore’s earlier proposal, which many construction grammarians assume to be the semantic complement of ¨ stman and Fried 2004: 5). Although the notions and goals of Frame CxG (e.g. O Semantics have been evolving over the decades (e.g. Fillmore 1977, 1985, 1987; Gawron 2008) and there are differences in focus between various construction grammarians as to technical details, in general it may be assumed that CxG (Goldberg 1995: 25–31) shares the general vision of the “semantics of understanding” advanced by Fillmore to account for the relationship between texts and the language users’ interpretation of texts in contexts (Fillmore 1985: 231). Fillmore describes text interpretation as relying on the activation of conceptual structures by actually used linguistic material and applying general cognitive operations (e.g. filling blanks in schemas or comparing real situations with prototypical ones) to those structures, which leads to constructing a coherent mental representation consistent with the language user’s knowledge (Fillmore 1977: 63–66).

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The conceptual/interpretive structures involved, labelled frames, are organized in such a way that introducing one element to the text makes all the other elements available to the interpreter, so they create a context necessary for interpretation, allowing the text recipient to reach beyond what is explicitly said by activating complex networks of knowledge (Fillmore 1985: 232; Gawron 2008: 4). They are described as schematizing human beliefs, actions or imaginings, and envisaged as rooted in cultural experience (Fillmore 1987: 33). The notion of frame can also account for the schematization of the recipient’s expectations concerning text types ¨ stman and genres, which play an important role in the interpretation process (O 2005: 128–135). In general then, the idea of frame activation is a very powerful tool for constructions to account for text interpretation and the role of extra-linguistic knowledge and cultural background in that process. Constructions are envisaged as basically language-specific, which is obvious in the case of lexical items, but may be less so in the case of syntactic patterns. The language-specificity of constructions implies that patterns in two languages, even if they are traditionally called “the same”, e.g. the passive, need not necessarily correspond to each other with respect to all their properties (Goldberg 2003: 222). Goldberg (2006: 16) stresses that CxG anticipates considerable variability between languages, despite the fact that humans have common communicative needs and that languages need to express similar messages. Another feature of CxG that should be stressed is its usage-based character. It is assumed that generalizations about language which are stated in terms of constructions emerge from usage, which in turn is determined by the need to communicate in a socially acceptable way.2 Consequently, it is assumed, especially in CCxG (Goldberg 2006: 64), that some facts about usage, going beyond the traditionally understood knowledge of the language system and accounting for the “native-like selection” from the various options conforming to the grammatical patterns of the language, for instance intuitions about the frequency of some items, should also be included into the constructional description of the language user’s knowledge (Goldberg 2006: 54–55).

16.3

The Applicability of Construction Grammar to Describing Translation

Even this sketchy and highly selective outline of CxG points to its very wide scope of interest, which is in fact crucial when considering a linguistic model capable of addressing the variety of issues involved in the process of translation. CxG is in fact 2 The usage-based nature of the constructional approach is strongly related to its account of language acquisition, which is of secondary importance for the purposes of this paper and cannot be elaborated on here, but which figures importantly in the constructional agenda in general (e.g. Goldberg 2006: Chaps. 4–6; Tomasello 2006).

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¨ stman 2004: 24), attempting to a “maximalist” model of language (Fried and O account for all the communicative conventions within one system. Although this postulate is far from being realized in practice as yet, from the theoretical point of view such a scope is what is needed to address translation, which involves all kinds of communicative conventions in actual use. The intended maximalism of CxG and abandoning the distinction between the core and the periphery in language description, although they seem to be very theoretical aspects of a language model, in fact make it a very “practical” framework for addressing translation. Let us note that in translation we have to recognize and represent in the target text any pattern that is meaningful and functional, and the status of language phenomena in terms of productivity has no impact on translational choices. Interestingly, it is often the non-core patterns of low productivity that cause problems in translation and are thus most interesting, since they often involve complex configurations of properties, including pragmatic ones, which are not clustered together in the target language. Assuming that CxG adopts the notions of Frame Semantics, including the continuity of the linguistic and the extra-linguistic knowledge, and that constructions are capable of evoking frames of knowledge, which are rooted in language use and cultural experience, the constructional framework has a potential to address the cultural conditioning of translational decisions as realized through the principled choice from the resources of the target language. It also has a way of addressing text interpretation, which can be seen as the recognition of constructions and frames and the integration of the interpretive clues that are provided by those structures. Therefore, the constructional view of language can accounts for the textstructural plane of translation and capture the widely understood cultural barriers and cultural conditioning of translation as differences in the framing systems that underlie two languages. It should be pointed out that the potential of framesemantic concepts in that respect has been noticed previously (e.g. Rojo Lo´pez 2002; Snell-Hornby 2005), but CxG combines it with a complex view of the language sign, which offers non-negligible descriptive opportunities for explaining the determinants of the translation process. CxG has a way of accounting for the relationship between the language system and language use, which are both involved in translation, by clearly stating the relationship between constructions as blueprints/templates and constructs as actual expressions. Being usage-based and including the pragmatic aspects of language, CxG can also account for the influence of subtle usage-related factors on the translator’s choices, such as the frequency of certain items and collocability, which contribute to the “native-like quality” which is usually expected of (although not necessarily actually exhibited by) a translated text. In very general terms, constructional thinking about language is highly relevant to translation since it presents text interpretation and production as relying on recognizing functional wholes rather than assembling small elements. It is wellknown that in translation the failure to recognize functional wholes often leads to disastrous effects. An obvious example of that is the translation of idioms, which, as was already stressed, are of great interest for CxG, but we can also notice this in the

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case of syntactic patterns, which as wholes have information structure functions, the overlooking of which often leads to incoherence or at least awkwardness of the target text. The notion of construction is based on the observation that the meaning of a complex expression need not be predictable from the meanings of its parts. Analogically, in translation, the global functional equivalence between texts or fragments of texts need not follow from local equivalences between their segments. The crucial features of the constructional approach to language from the point of view of describing translation are its non-modularity, the inseparability of form and meaning, which underlies the notion of construction, and the language-specificity of constructions. When considered jointly, they highlight and explain the fact that in translating we are often restricted by the resources of the target language, which may cluster various properties differently than the resources of the source language, which were used in the source text for certain communicative purposes. Looking at constructs, which are used in text creation as instantiations of a number of constructions, highlights the fact that they are complex clusters of properties and that various aspects of the utterance, including its phonetics, morphosyntax, semantics, information structure, register and other pragmatic properties, are realized simultaneously by the same linguistic “material”. Such a view of language signs accounts for the text being created simultaneously on the linear and text-structural plane, in the sense that each choice in the process of the linear production of the text simultaneously contributes to the creation of its overall structure. This fact is particularly important in translation, when the target text, as well as its parts, are usually expected to be equivalent in sense and function to the source text, as well as to resemble the source text in structure, linguistic organization and style (e.g. the target text is usually not to be a summary of the source text). What we constantly experience in translation, however, are difficulties in finding exact equivalents of the source text constructs in the target language, i.e. expressions that would match them in all the functional and formal properties. Therefore, it is customary to speak about losses and gains in translation. CxG explains why equivalence between constructs in two languages is rarely complete, and how gains and losses originate, by assuming that constructions are language-specific clusters of properties. If in translating we cannot find a target language construct matching the source language construct in all respects, we have to choose the priority, that is the dimension of equivalence that is most important in the particular situation of translating. However, the inseparability of forms and functions in constructions also entails that sometimes the construction(s) chosen because of that priority will bring into the text some properties absent form the original, because we cannot filter out or add properties to the constructions of the target language to suit our translational purposes, we can only use the resources that are offered by the target language. Since constructions are described as clusters of properties, CxG offers very precise tools to capture the issue of losses and gains in translation and the problem of equivalence being approximate. The explanation of those phenomena follows form the every architecture of the constructional view of language.

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16.4

Gains, Losses and Priorities in Translation: An Example

To illustrate the last point made above, this section will show how the mechanism of losses and gains in translation can be captured in a constructional framework. The construction chosen for the purpose of this exemplification is one of the English periphrastic causative constructions, the pattern make sb do sth. The suggestions made below are based on the examination of a number of examples of its translation into Polish in novels and film subtitles, aimed at demonstrating the constructional grounding of the mechanism which is at work in translation, rather than at arriving at any closed repertoire of translational options. In constructional terms the pattern can be characterised as follows: like other causative and resultative constructions (Goldberg and Jackendoff 2004: 538–539), the one in question can be assumed to combine two subevents – the causative one identified by make and the resultant one, identified by the other verb. As to the participants of the event, the construction involves a Causer and a Causee (Gilquin 2006: 2). Other possible participant(s) will depend on the verb in the second subevent. The subevents are linked through the assumption that the Causee exerts some influence on the Causer, which indirectly brings about the second subevent (Wierzbicka 1988: 240–242, 244–245; Gilquin 2006: 9), but the nature of this influence is not specified. A corpus-based analysis suggests that the register specification should be “neutral/informal” (Gilquin 2006: 7). Those properties can be represented as in (2): 2. Prag

Register

Neutral/informal

Sem

[Causer

CAUSE

[Causee

resultant subevent]]

Syn

NP Subj

make

NP Obj

V-bare infinitve

Polish does not have a construction corresponding to the English one with respect to all the properties and this is reflected in translations, in which various constructions are combined to produce constructs matching the original in some respects. When the indirect causation is rendered without specifying the manner of the causative influence, as in translations through the verb sprawic´ z˙e/z˙eby/aby ‘cause that’ or spowodowac´ z˙e/z˙eby/aby ‘cause that’ (both require a finite clause to follow) the register is clearly higher, as in (3a). This is a kind of “gain” not necessarily welcome in every context. On the other hand, translations which keep the register introduce other little changes; for example, they “erase” the causative subevent, loosing the element of causality, as in (3b), which may change the presentation of the situation and of the participants’ involvement in it, or they apply one of a range of “coercive” verbs (kazac´ ‘order’, skłonic´ ‘persuade’, namo´wic´ ‘talk into’, zmusic´ ‘force’, etc.), which specify the nature of the causative influence, unlike the original (e.g. (3c)).

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3. (a) “And have you worked out how to use it?” he said to her. “No. Least, I can make the three short hands point to different pictures, but I can’t do anything with the long one”. (Pullman 2003:111) – Czy dowiedziałas´ sie˛ juz˙, jak go uz˙ywac´? – spytał Lyre˛. – Nie. Potrafie˛ sprawic´, aby trzy kro´tkie wskazo´wki pokazały obrazki, jednak nie umiem poruszyc´ tej długiej. (Pullman 2004:143) [back translation: And have you got to know how to use it? No. I can cause that the three short hands point to pictures, but I cannot move the long one.] (b) We had to make it [the situation] look like a casual social encounter, talk lightly about matters of life and death. (Lodge 2002: 304) Musielis´my udawac´ zwykłych znajomych, rozmawiac´ lekko o sprawach z˙ycia i s´mierci. (Lodge 2001: 304) [back translation: We had to pose as casual acquaintances, to talk lightly about matters of life and death.] (c) Why make people go through hell before you help them out of it? (Lodge 2002: 283) Dlaczego zmuszamy ludzi, z˙eby przechodzili przez piekło? (Lodge 2001: 283) [back translation: Why do we force people to go through hell?] Leaving aside the evaluation of the influence of such micro-changes on the translated text and concentrating on the descriptive perspective, the constructional view of language signs as clusters of properties from various domains, including the pragmatic one, highlights the approximate nature of equivalence and helps trace the translators’ priorities (e.g. the priority of register over the semantic precision in presenting the event in (3b) and (3c)).

16.5

Conclusion

To sum up, it has been argued that Construction Grammar is highly convergent with the needs of translation studies defined by the extending scope of this discipline indicated in Sect. 16.1. CxG is inherently functional and usage-based, being maximalist in the aim of describing the totality of the communicative conventions available to the language user. It has a potential to address the issues of pragmatics, text structure, text interpretation and the influence of culture-bound knowledge on the use of language, which makes it capable of acknowledging the insights of the pragmatic turn and the cultural turn in translation studies. On the other hand, it combines this potential with a very detailed approach to the description of language signs and to functionalizing structures, which offers an opportunity of a precise analysis of the translator’s linguistic decisions following from the differences

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between the two systems involved in the process of translating. Finally, being nonmodular and including discourse and pragmatic properties in the description of constructions, it highlights the fact that the micro-level of linguistic decisions and the macro-level of text are inherently connected.

References Anderman, G. 2007. Linguistics and translation. In The companion to translation studies, eds. P. Kuhiwczak and K. Littau, 45-62. Clevedon: Multilingual Matters. Croft, W. 2007. Construction grammar. In The Oxford handbook of cognitive linguistics, eds. D. Geeraerts and H. Cuyckens, 463-508. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Fillmore, C. J. 1968. The case for case. In Universals in linguistic theory, ed. E. Bach and R. T. Harms, 1-88. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston. Fillmore, C. J. 1977. Scenes-and-frames semantics. In Linguistic structures processing, ed. A. Zampolli, 55-81. Amsterdam: North Holland. Fillmore, C. J. 1985. Frames and the semantics of understanding. Quaderni di semantica 6: 222-254. Fillmore, C. J. 1987. A private history of the concept ‘frame’. In Concepts of case, eds. R. Dirven and G. Radden, 28-36. T€ ubingen: Gunter Narr Verlag. Fillmore, C. J. 1988. The mechanisms of Construction Grammar. Proceedings of the Annual Meetings of Berkeley Linguistics Society 14: 35-55. Fillmore, C. J., P. Kay and M. C. O’Connor. 1988. Regularity and idiomaticity in grammatical constructions: The case of let alone. Language 64: 501-538. ¨ stman. 2004. Construction Grammar: A thumbnail sketch. In Construction Fried, M. and J.-O. O ¨ stman, 11-86. Amsterdam/ Grammar in a cross-language perspective, eds. M. Fried and J.-O. O Philadelphia: John Benjamins. Gawron, J. M. 2008. Frame semantics. http://www.hf.uib.no/forskerskole/new_frames_intro.pdf. Accessed 14 April 2009. Gilquin, G. 2006. The verb slot in causative constructions. Finding the best fit. Constructions SV19/2006. http://www.constructions-online.de. Accessed 10 June 2009. Goldberg, A. E. 1995. Constructions. A Construction Grammar approach to argument structure. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Goldberg, A. E. 2003. Constructions: A new theoretical approach to language. Trends in cognitive sciences 7: 219-224. Goldberg, A. E. 2006. Constructions at work. The nature of generalizations in language. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Goldberg, A. E and R. Jackendoff. 2004. The English resultative as a family of constructions. Language 80: 532-568. Holmes, J. S. 2006 [1978]. Describing literary translations: Methods and models. In Translation – theory and practice. A historical reader, eds. D. Weissbort and A. Eysteinsson, 416-422. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Lefevere, A. and S. Bassnett. 1990. Proust’s grandmother and the Thousand and One Nights. The ‘cultural turn’ in translation studies. In Translation, history and culture, eds. S. Bassnett and A. Lefevere, 1-13. London: Pinter Publishers. Lodge, D. 2001. Mys´la˛c. . . Translated by Z. Naczyn´ska. Poznan´: Rebis. Lodge, D. [2001] 2002. Thinks. . . New York: Penguin Books. ¨ stman, J.-O. 2005. Construction discourse. A prolegomenon. In Construction grammars. CogniO ¨ stman and M. Fried, 121-144. tive grounding and theoretical extensions, eds. J.-O. O Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins.

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¨ stman, J.-O. and M. Fried. 2004. Historical and intellectual background of Construction GramO mar. In Construction Grammar in a cross-language perspective, eds. M. Fried and J.-O. ¨ stman, 1-10. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins. O Pullman, P. 2003. The golden compass [first published 1995 as Northern lights]. New York: Random House. Pullman, P. 2004. Zorza po´łnocna. Translated by E. Wojtczak. Warszawa: Albatros. Rojo Lo´pez, A. M. 2002. Applying Frame Semantics to translation: A practical example. Meta XLVII: 311-350. Snell-Hornby, M. 1990. Linguistic transcoding or cultural transfer? A critique of translation theory in Germany. In Translation, history and culture, eds. S. Bassnett and A. Lefevere, 79-86. London: Pinter Publishers. Snell-Hornby, M. 2005. Of catfish and blue bananas: scenes-and frames semantics as a contrastive knowledge system for translation. In Knowledge systems and translation, eds. H. V. Dam, J. Engberg and H. Gerzymisch-Arbogast, 193-206. Berlin/New York: Mouton de Gruyter. Snell-Hornby, M. 2006. The turns of translation studies. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins. Szyman´ska, I. 2011. Mosaics. A Construction-Grammar-based approach to translation. Warszawa: Semper. Tabakowska, E. 1997. O tłumaczeniu wiersza – perspektywa je˛zykoznawcy. In Mie˛dzy oryginałem a przekładem III, ed. M. Filipowicz-Rudek, J. Konieczna-Twardzikowa and M. Stoch, 29-43. Krako´w: Universitas. Tomasello, M. 2006. Construction Grammar for kids. Constructions SV1-11/2006. http://www. constructions-online.de. Accessed 20 March 2010. Wierzbicka, A. 1988. The semantics of grammar. Amsterdam: John Benjamins.

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Chapter 17

Crossing the Frontiers of Linguistic Typology: Lexical Differences and Translation Patterns in English and Russian Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov Łukasz Grabowski

Abstract This article presents the results of the corpus-driven comparison between the English-original (1955) and Russian auto-translation (1967) of the novel Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov. The aim of the study, which was facilitated by the computer program WordSmith Tools 4.0, was to answer the question whether the differences attested between the English and Russian parallel texts arise from translation strategies [Nabokov was an ardent advocate of literal translation as the only strategy of truly transposing the original text (Beaujour 1995: 716; Grayson 1977: 13–15)], or whether they are due to typological differences between the English and Russian languages. This corpus-driven study consists of two parts. The first part aims at a comparison of lexical wordlists (i.e. top-frequency lexical words) generated for English and Russian Lolita. The analysis revealed, among others, that Nabokov used synonymy as a frequent translation strategy (particularly in the case of English reporting verbs), which indicates that repetitions are regarded as a bad style in Russian texts. Moreover, the analysis highlighted a conspicuous typological difference between the two languages whereby Russian is more explicit semantically (i.e. words have more specific meaning distinctions) than English, which in turn is more ambiguous and vague in its surface forms (Comrie 1981: 31–79). The second part aims at an examination of translation strategies used by Nabokov while translating creative, author-specific hapax legomena, following a similar study of English and German prose conducted by Kenny (2001). The analysis revealed that Nabokov exhibited a strong tendency towards lexical normalization while translating creative hapax legomena into Russian. All in all, the corpus-driven analysis revealed that although translators are free to use multifarious translation strategies while

Ł. Grabowski (*) Opole University, Opole, Poland e-mail: [email protected] M. Pawlak and J. Bielak (eds.), New Perspectives in Language, Discourse and Translation Studies, Second Language Learning and Teaching, DOI 10.1007/978-3-642-20083-0_17, # Springer-Verlag Berlin Heidelberg 2011

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transposing original texts, they are still at the mercy of typological differences between the relevant languages.

17.1

Introduction

Lolita (1955) is one of the best known novels by Vladimir Nabokov, which firmly established him as an outstanding American novelist, brought him fame, liberated him from his teaching post at Cornell University (1959), and created both interest and the market for English translations of his Russian works. Due to controversial, at that time, subject matter (both a narrator and protagonist, middle-aged Humbert Humbert, becomes obsessed and sexually involved with a 12-year-old girl, Dolores Haze), Nabokov was unable to find a publisher of the novel in the United States, and instead the book appeared under the imprint of Olympia Press Publishing House in Paris in 1955 (Boyd 1993: 356–357). The novel is written in a highly artistic, masterful and precise style which made Nabokov one of the most brilliant and idiosyncratic stylists of English (Stiller 1991: 421). If Lolita was ever going to be translated into Russian, Nabokov wanted to ensure control over the outcome. When his siblings offered to divide the translation task between them, Nabokov was initially delighted, but at the same time alertly cautious. Their sample translations, however, left him aghast (Trzeciak 2005: 10). In one of the interviews given in 1964, Nabokov expressed both dissatisfaction with and concern about the future prospect of the translation, which prompted him to commence the self-translation of Lolita himself (quoted in Osimo 1999: 230): I trained my inner telescope upon that particular point in the distant future and I saw that every paragraph, pockmarked as it is with pitfalls, could lend itself to hideous mistranslation. In the hands of a harmful drudge, the Russian version of Lolita would be entirely degraded and botched by vulgar paraphrases or blunders. So I decided to translate it myself.

However, as in the case of his translation into English of the novel Omчaяниe/ Despair,1 a rationale behind his self-translation of Lolita (this time in the opposite direction, i.e. from English into Russian) was Nabokov’s displeasure at the results of other translators’ non-conformity to his views and guidelines for successful translation. In the postscript to Russian Lolita, Nabokov frequently envisioned abysmal translator blundering of his novel while translating it into Russian (Nabokov 1989: 361).

1 Beaujour (1995: 720) claims that it provides excellent examples of both the problems inherent in strict and literal self-translation and instances of advantageous employment of “unfaithful” selftranslation. Obviously enough, his first translation into English was completed in 1936 and constituted the first attempt to use English for artistic purposes, the experience Nabokov referred to as disagreeable (ibid.) Having translated Lolita into Russian in 1965, Nabokov capitalized on his years of experience and undertook his second attempt at translating Omчaяниe into English in a freer fashion. Later on Nabokov claimed that he would have been “pleased and excited” if he had had a chance to read his 1965 version of Despair at the end of 1930s (ibid.).

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When publishing Lolita in Russian, I have a very simple aim in mind: I want my best English book – or let’s put it modestly, one of the best of my English books, to be correctly translated into my native language2 [translation mine, ŁG].

Another important factor was the lack of hope that Lolita will be published in the Soviet Union in Nabokov’s lifetime (Nabokov 1989: 360; Trzeciak 2005: 10). It is difficult even to imagine any regime in my stiff fatherland, be it liberal or totalitarian, which would enable the censorship to launch Lolita into the market3 [translation mine, Ł. G.].

Holding no hope for the future, the writer decided to translate the novel himself. He started this task in winter of 1963 and in March 1965 the Russianized Lolita was revised and completed (Boyd 1995: xlvii; Trzeciak 2005: 11). Nevertheless, his postscript to the Russian edition of Lolita contains passages which illustrate Nabokov’s skepticism and dissatisfaction with his self-translation, which he calls “the story of disappointment” (Nabokov 1989: 358): My private tragedy, which cannot, and indeed should not, be anybody’s concern, is that I had to abandon my natural idiom, my untrammeled, rich, and infinitely docile Russian tongue for a second-rate brand of English, devoid of any of those apparatuses — the baffling mirror, the black velvet backdrop, the implied associations and traditions — which the native illusionist, frac-tails flying, can magically use to transcend the heritage in his own way.4

Even though Nabokov frequently complained about the rusty condition of his Russian, most of the critics emphasized the role of his translation as a giant step in the development of the Russian literary language (Grabowski 2008: 129). An e´migre´ critic, Vladimir Weidle, claimed that in the long term Nabokov’s translation of Lolita will be “fertile for Russian literature and an even greater phenomenon there than the English Lolita in English literature” (Boyd 1993: 490). Nevertheless, there were also negative opinions about the Russianized novel. According to Proffer (1970: 258), even Nabokov’s most ardent fans dislike the Russian translation of Lolita and the majority of Russians she had met tend to find Nabokov’s translation clumsy and even ungrammatical. According to Grayson (1977: 193), the style of Russian Lolita “bears such strong traces of English constructions that it can not safely be treated as an autonomous piece of Russian”. Furthermore, Proffer (1970: 259) quotes an opinion of an anonymous Russian linguist who read the The original reads: Издaвaя “ЛoлиTу” пo-pуccки, я пpecлeдую oчeнь пpocTую цeль: xoчу, чToбы мoя лучшaя aнглийcкaя книгa – или, cкaжeм eщe cкpoмнee, oднa из лучшиx мoиx aнглийcкиx книг – былa пpaвильнo пepeвeдeнa нa мoй poднoй язык. 3 The original reads: Mнe Tpуднo пpeдcTaвиTь ceбe peжим, либepaльный ли или ToTaлиTapный, в чoпopнoй мoeй oTчизнe, пpи кoTopoм цeнзуpa пpoпуcTилa бы “ЛoлиTу”. 4 The original reads: “Увы, ToT ‘дивный pуccкий язык’, кoTopый, cдaвaлocь мнe, вce ждeT мeня гдe-To, цвeTeT, кaк вepнaя вecнa зa нaглуxo зaпepTыми вopoTaми, oT кoTopыx cToлькo лeT xpaнилcя у мeня ключ, oкaзaлcя нecущecTвующим, и зa вopoTaми нeT ничeгo, кpoмe oбуглeнныx пнeй и oceннeй бeзнaдeжнoй дaли, a ключ в pукe cкopee пoxoж нa oTмычку”. 2

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Russianized Lolita and found it fascinating because it had been written in a kind of dead language nobody used in the Soviet Union of the 1960s. Robert Stiller, who produced the first full translation of the novel into Polish in 1991, represents the opinion that the auto-translation is awkward and clumsy, riddled with vulgarity, which is not so omnipresent in the English original (Stiller 1991: 428). Even Nabokov himself was far from being satisfied with the quality of his auto-translation; in the postscript to Russian Lolita he opined that many fragments of his translation are “clumsy, loquacious and frequently disgusting in terms of style and rhythm” (Nabokov 1989: 358).5 All in all, taking into consideration the inside story of the Russianization of Lolita, including Nabokov’s attachment to literal translation (Beaujour 1995: 716) as well as the reception of the Russian Lolita by the critics and the author and translator himself (Ginter 2003:15), the aim of this article is to identify major lexical differences between the English and Russian texts of the novel (henceforth “parallel texts”). In particular, the comparison undertaken herein attempts to determine whether the lexical differences between the parallel texts arise from translation strategies or whether they are due to typological differences between English and Russian. Is it justifiable to claim that although translators are free to use multifarious translation strategies while translating original texts, they are still at the mercy of typological differences between relevant languages?

17.2

Methodology, Tools and Stages of the Analysis

In order to provide answers to the aforementioned study questions, the corpusdriven methodology was applied. In contrast to the corpus-based approach, which always works within commonly accepted frameworks of theories of language (which implies prior classification of linguistic data), the parallel texts were not adjusted to fit any predefined categories or theoretical schemata, and the study questions were addressed through the analysis of frequency distributions of words and recurrent patterns of language use as found in English and Russian Lolita. As a result, the parallel texts were compared through bottom-up observation of empirical linguistic data, which were presented in quantitative terms and, where necessary, supplemented with qualitative observations. Both novels, i.e. the English-original (Nabokov 2000, henceforth ENL) as well as the Russian Lolita (Nabokov 1989, henceforth RUL), were purchased in bookstores in paper format and they were further converted into the machine-readable format supported by the software used throughout the study. To that aim, the parallel texts The original reads: (. . .) нo cToль cвoйcTвeнныe aнглийcкoму Toнкиe нeдoгoвopeннocTи, пoэзия мыcли, мгнoвeннaя пepeкличкa мeжду oTвлeчeннeйшими пoняTиями, poeниe oднocлoжныx эпиTeToв – вce эTo, a Taкжe вce oTнocящeecя к Texникe, мoдaм, cпopTу, ecTecTвeнным нaукaм и пpoTивoecTecTвeнным cTpacTям – cTaнoвиTcя пo-pуccки Toпopным, мнoгocлoвным и чacTo oTвpaTиTeльным в cмыcлe cTиля и pиTмa”. 5

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were manually scanned and subjected to the OCR procedure. The scanned texts were subjected to repeated proofreading in order to ensure spelling accuracy, and they were further verified against the paper format versions. At that stage, any cases of misrecognition of characters were edited and corrected using a spellchecker, or a search-and-replace facility of a word processor. Finally, the parallel texts were saved in two files in a plain text format. The corpus-driven analysis conducted in this study was facilitated by the use of the computer software WordSmith Tools 4.0 developed by Scott (2004), which is a suite of programs custom-designed for text analysis. The study was broken down into two successive stages. First, top-frequency lexical words and their distributions, as found in ENL and RUL, were compared. As a result, the most conspicuous lexical differences between the two texts were identified, and selected translation strategies used by Nabokov were determined through qualitative interpretation of word frequency lists. In the second stage of the study, translation strategies used by Nabokov while translating creative, author-specific hapax legomena were examined. This part of the study was modelled on the study conducted by Kenny (2001), who studied lexical normalization in the translation from German into English of creative hapax legomena attested in a customdesigned corpus of literary texts. Finally, the analyses conducted in stage one and two highlighted conspicuous typological differences between the English and Russian languages, which were presented in greater detail.

17.3

Comparison of Wordlists

According to Scott (2004), wordlists, or more specifically – word frequency lists, can be used, among other purposes, to study type, range and distribution of vocabulary used in a text, identify the most common word clusters, compare frequencies of cognate words or translation equivalents across source and target language texts. The Wordlist facility of WordSmith Tools 4.0 generated the wordlists for ENL and RUL. Table 17.1 shows 25 top-frequency word types presented in decreasing frequency order together with the cumulative percentage of total word count (%W) in each of the texts. Apart from only a few translation equivalents obtained in the wordlists, such as conjunctions and – и (the most frequently used co-ordinating conjunction), the personal pronoun I – я (sign of the 1st person narration), etc., there are no translation equivalents for the majority of top frequency words, which shows that we are comparing very different language systems. Where the English language employs prepositions or articles (which are separate running words in a text), Russian employs endings, prefixes and suffixes (which are bound with other words). It explains why the top English words are much more frequent than the top Russian words – if one adds the percentage of the total word count for 25 top-frequency words, it occurs that in ENL they account for 35.07% of the overall number of running words, whereas in RUL – 23.32%. Having determined that, I aimed to find

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Table 17.1 Wordlist with 25 top-frequency word types in ENL and RUL ENL RUL Rank 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25

Word THE AND A OF I TO IN HER WAS MY WITH HAD THAT SHE ME ON IT AS AT FOR NOT YOU BUT HE WOULD

Frequency 5,165 3,712 3,579 3,179 2,983 2,446 2,105 1,613 1,486 1,419 1,223 1,197 1,178 1,078 809 779 738 721 700 657 654 566 536 462 459

%W 4.59 7.89 11.07 13.90 16.55 18.73 20.60 22.03 23.36 24.62 25.71 26.77 27.82 28.78 29.50 30.19 30.84 31.49 32.11 32.69 33.27 33.78 34.25 34.66 35.07

Rank 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25

Word И B Я HA ЧTO HE C КAК OHA EE MEHЯ MHE К HO TO ПO ИЗ У БЫ OH BCE ЭTO ЗA A EГO

Frequency 3,394 3,174 2,217 1,476 1,397 1,377 1,343 915 876 766 606 603 545 517 512 486 481 456 454 433 421 394 390 377 360

%W 3.30 6.39 8.55 9.98 11.34 12.68 13.99 14.88 15.73 16.48 17.07 17.65 18.18 18.69 19.19 19.66 20.13 20.57 21.01 21.43 21.84 22.23 22.61 22.97 23.32

a word rank at which the total word count reaches 50% in ENL and RUL. It was revealed that in the case of top-frequency words the lexical variety (in terms of the number of repetitions of the most frequent words) attested in both ENL and RUL differs more than considerably – word ranks at which the word count reaches 50% are 105 and 593 in ENL and RUL, respectively. These results are presented in Table 17.2 below. Table 17.2 shows that in ENL 105 word types account for 50% of the total word count, whereas in the case of RUL – 593 word types. As a result, there are 488 more word types in RUL which account for 50% of the total word count. This text-specific data can be further generalized as the difference between distribution of the topfrequency words in English and Russian texts. English texts have more repetitions and lower lexical variety in terms of top-frequency words, whereas their Russian translations (and Russian texts in general) have fewer repetitions and higher lexical variety among top frequency words. As a result, raw frequencies of top-frequency words are considerably higher in ENL than in RUL (the word type ranked 105th (never) in ENL has the frequency of 114, whereas the word type ranked 105th in RUL

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Table 17.2 Proportion of top-frequency words in the total word count in ENL and RUL ENL RUL Rank 1 10 20 30 40 50 60 70 80 90 100 105

%W (cumulative) 4.593316 24.62249 32.69747 36.97419 40.03877 42.43993 44.36174 45.95539 47.26624 48.4686 49.54556 50.05869

Rank 1 10 20 30 40 50 60 70 80 90 100 593

%W (cumulative) 3.3032 16.48191 21.43865 25.00268 27.48543 29.35114 30.84507 32.09764 33.19351 34.16578 35.04949 50.01022

(oпяmь ‘again’) has the frequency of 85, and the word type ranked 593rd (мoгуm ‘(they) can’) has the frequency of 15). However, a major problem with information extracted from frequency lists is the fact that raw frequencies highlight very common grammatical words, such as the, a, and, of revealed above, and their occurrence is unlikely to provide evidence of any specifically used vocabulary across source and target language texts. To remedy this inconvenience, all grammatical words were deleted from the top-frequency items, and the most common content (lexical) words used in ENL and RUL, respectively, were isolated. Such a filtered-out frequency list with 25 top-frequency content words is presented in Table 17.3. Apart from certain regularities which result from typological differences between the two language systems, Table 17.3 also reveals some characteristic features of the translation. As regards the differences between the language systems, high frequency of the verb forms was and have in ENL results from their functioning not only as inflectional forms of the verbs to be and to have, but also from functioning as auxiliary verbs used in multiple grammatical tenses (which explains their higher frequency as compared with the aggregated frequency of the equivalent verb forms былo, был and былa (was/were) in Russian). Another observation refers to the high rank and frequency of the reporting verb said, with 344 occurrences in ENL, which is more than the aggregate frequency of the corresponding Russian reporting verbs cкaзaл (masc.) and cкaзaлa (fem.), with 211 occurrences of both. This observation shows that repetitions in Russian texts are regarded as bad style, and therefore Nabokov used either synonymous reporting verbs while translating the English reporting verb said into Russian6 (e.g. пoдcкaзaлa, paccкaзaлa, выcкaзaл, зaгoвopилa, гoвopилa, пpoизнec/лa, пpoгoвopил/a, зaявилa, гoвopил, пoгoвopил) or employed more specific and concrete verbs, such as 6 The data presented below come from the analysis of parallel concordances, i.e. fragments of English Lolita aligned with the corresponding fragments of Russian Lolita.

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Table 17.3 25 top-frequency content (lexical) words in ENL and RUL ENL RUL Rank 9 30 37 39 42 51 61 62 63 81 84 87 89 93 95 100 101 102 103 108 113 114 115 116 120

Word WAS HAVE SAID WERE LITTLE LO OLD LOLITA TWO KNOW HAZE WAY CHILD ROOM GIRL AM CAR GOOD HUMBERT EYES HAND MADE DAY FIRST LET

Frequency 1,486 388 344 305 287 236 197 193 192 139 137 135 132 121 120 117 117 116 115 109 104 104 103 103 98

Rank 31 32 38 41 43 58 62 64 74 87 88 95 101 102 103 106 108 111 117 122 127 131 134 139 141

Word БЫЛO БЫЛ TOЛЬКO БЫЛA ЛOЛИTA БЫЛИ MOЖET MOГ CКAЗAЛ BPEMЯ CКAЗAЛA ДOЛЛИ ДBA ЛET ГУMБEPT ГEЙЗ COBEPШEHHO ДEHЬ ЛO ДOBOЛЬHO ECTЬ ДOЛOPEC OДИH BPEMEHИ ЛOЛИTЫ

Frequency 322 308 222 214 202 143 137 132 115 98 96 91 87 86 85 82 79 77 74 70 67 64 63 60 60

выpaзилcя ‘expressed/voiced’, omвemил ‘answered/replied’, oбъяcнил/a ‘explained’, oбeщaлa ‘promised’, кpичaл ‘screamed’, пoдxвamилa ‘picked up’, oбъявилa ‘announced’, oбpamилacь [кo мнe] ‘turned [to me]’, глacилa7 ‘read’, пpocилa ‘asked’, пpoцeдил ‘muttered/mumbled’, вocкликнулa ‘shouted’, шeпчem ‘whisper’. Alternatively, he resorted to structural changes, omissions or condensing, which is revealed in the passages presented in Table 17.4. Using synonyms or employing various syntactic, semantic or pragmatic strategies when translating reporting verbs shows that the neutral reporting verb said is rendered with more emotionally charged synonyms or equivalent expressions with slightly different meanings (e.g. screamed, shouted, explained, answered, asked, announced, etc.). As a result, the English verb said is not semantically determined and it is only context which allows for the specification of its exact meaning. This observation refers to one of the specific problems of translation 7 Picture of the Week, said the legend. ! Haдпиcь глacилa: ЗaмeчaTeльнeйшaя зa Heдeлю ФoToгpaфия.

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Table 17.4 Examples of translation of the reporting verb said from English (in ENL) into Russian (in RUL) ENL RUL “Sure,” she said. “Кoнeчнo, пoпpoбуйTe”. [OMISSION] Now, at twelve, she was a regular pest, said Hынe, в двeнaдцaTь лeT, эTo пpямo бич Haze. Бoжий, пo cлoвaм Гeйзиxи. [STRUCTURAL CHANGE – according to Haze/in accordance with Haze’s words] She had a message for me, she said; and, У нee былo, пo ee cлoвaм, пopучeниe кo topping my automatic thanks with a kindly мнe, и увeнчaв мoe aвToмaTичecкoe “you’re welcome,” good Louise left an “cпacибo” paдушным “нe зa чTo”, дoбpaя Луизa ocTaвилa cTpaннo-чиcToe, unstamped, curiously clean-looking letter in бeз мapки и бeз пoмapки, пиcьмo в my shaking hand. мoeй Tpяcущeйcя pукe. [STRUCTURAL CHANGE – according to her] The muse of invention handed me a rifle and I Mузa вымыcлa пpoTянулa мнe винToвку, и я выcTpeлил в бeлoгo мeдвeдя, shot a white bear who sat down and said: кoTopый ceл и oxнул. [CONDENSING Ah! said: Ah! into one verb, which literally means to ah]

between English and other Slavic languages, i.e. the fact that Russian (and other Slavic languages) is more explicit semantically (i.e. the words have more specific meaning distinctions) than English, which in turn is more ambiguous and vague in its surface forms (Comrie 1981: 31–79). Hence, the English language is more dependant on pragmatic and contextual information in specifying the exact interpretation of its linguistic forms (e.g. the past tense verb said), which are broad in meaning. According to Piotrowski (1994: 95–96), users of English tend to choose lexemes which are broad in meaning rather than specific (even though English has both broad and specific word types), whereas users of Russian (and probably other Slavic languages) tend to choose specific lexemes, and therefore they regard texts with multiple repetitions as plain, simple, or even as having bad style. The sideeffect of that is that a proper translation of English reporting verbs (or broad English word types in general) requires that more lexical (content) words be used in order to produce a natural and acceptable text or translation into Russian. Apart from the general observations adduced above, the 25 top-frequency content words also provide evidence of certain stylistic choices made by Nabokov while translating English Lolita into Russian. The frequencies of abbreviated names Lo and Лo (236 vs. 74 occurrences in ENL and RUL, respectively) show that instead of Lo Nabokov employed different means of addressing the eponymous protagonist, such as the full name Лoлиma (Lolita), personal pronoun oнa (she), or diminutive form Лoлиmoчкa (little Lolita). The Russian equivalent of the English noun girl, referring to Lolita, is also not represented among the top-frequency content words in RUL. The analysis of its translation equivalents shows that Nabokov used different semantic and pragmatic strategies while translating it into Russian [occasionally he used direct loans when

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referring to culture-specific American concepts, e.g. college girl (кoллeджгэpл), scout girl (гэpл-cкaуm)]. His choices include, among others, дeвoчкa, дeвушкa (synonyms) ‘girl’, пoдpугa ‘girlfriend’, шкoльницa ‘pupil’, гимнaзиcmкa ‘high school student’, дeвчуpкa diminutive of ‘girl’, aмepикaнoчкa ‘American girl’, пoдpocmoк, пoдpужкa diminutive of ‘girlfriend’, дeвчoнoчкa diminutive of ‘girl’, etc. An interesting finding, however, is the fact that compound nouns which include the noun girl, such as girl friend, English girl, American girl, girl children, girl child, school girl are rendered in RUL with single nouns, such as пoдpугa, aнгличaнкa, aмepикaнoчкa, дeвoчки, гимнaзиcmкa and шкoльницa. It shows that the meaning of English compound nouns is conflated into single Russian nouns. Finally, an interesting example of the pragmatic strategy of explicitation is revealed in the translation of the compound noun career girls, occurring in ENL twice, which is rendered in RUL with the coordinative compound ceкpemapши и кoнmopщицы (literally: “secretaries/PAs and office ladies”), and the noun phrase кoнmopcкaя дeвицa (literally “an office lady”), which are both more explicit in meaning (as those ladies make their careers in the corporate office world).

17.4

Translation of Creative Hapax Legomena

The comparison of wordlists presented above focuses on top-frequency words, as found in ENL and RUL. However, creative and author-specific words tend to occur in a text with low frequency. As a result, wordlists featuring top-frequency words are not suitable to capture creative or author-specific terms, which can be found among bottom-frequency words. Thus, in order to compare lexical variety among bottom-frequency words, I focused on words which occur in a text only once, which are referred to as hapax legomena. The analysis of the frequency lists generated for ENL and RUL, respectively, shows that the former text contains 6,984 hapax legomena (they account for 49.91% of the overall vocabulary and 6.22% of the overall number of running words in ENL), whereas the latter text contains 20,368 hapax legomena, which account for 68.69% of the overall vocabulary and 19.86% of the overall number of running words in RUL).8 Due to the lack of lemmatization of the Russian wordlist, it is impossible to determine whether this discrepancy results from multiple inflectional forms of the same lemmas treated as separate word types (and hence also as hapax legomena), or whether it is due to more creative (i.e. non-normalized) translation of English expressions into Russian. The latter observation applies also to hapax legomena as it is possible to either translate them creatively (a hapax legomenon in a source text is rendered with a hapax 8 This difference is due to the fact that each inflectional form of a particular word type (e.g. genitive, accusative or locative case of the verb, in either singular or plural, feminine or masculine) is treated as a single occurrence of a type, which accounts for a typical problem of operating with non-lemmatized types and tokens in highly inflectional languages such as Russian.

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legomenon in a target text), or to normalize them (a hapax legomenon in a source text is rendered with typical or conventional expressions in a target text in an attempt to solve problems posed by translation of author-specific or unusual source-text features). Kenny (2001), who conducted a study of lexical normalization in the translation from German into English of creative linguistic expressions9 attested in the customdesigned corpus of literary language, revealed that normalization occurs in 44% of cases where translators have to deal with creative hapax legomena in source texts (ibid., 187). Hence, there is a choice between creativity and normalization, and adherence to one or the other may further influence the differences between the numbers of hapax legomena as found in source and target texts. Therefore, this case study aimed to determine whether selected creative hapax legomena attested in the English original version of Lolita were rendered with either creative target language forms, or conventionalized (normalized) ones. Next, it was determined whether the translated expressions account for hapax legomena in RUL or not. In other words, it was eventually aimed to determine what tendencies were exhibited and what translation strategies Nabokov had employed when translating creative, author-specific hapax legomena into Russian. As the English-original version of Lolita has 6,984 hapaxes,10 a statistically significant number of hapaxes is 3,575, which was determined by applying the chisquare formula proposed by Berber-Sardinha (1996: 1–6). As an analysis of such a number of hapaxes falls beyond the scope of this study, 15 creative hapax legomena were selected, which account for 0.21%11 of the total number of hapax legomena in ENL. By creative hapax legomena I understand the word types which occurred in the text only once, constitute author-specific expressions, are not found in the reference dictionary of English (Longman Dictionary of Contemporary English, 2003). These are the following: instantenousness, fountainous, crenullated, cobwebby, beasthood, charshaf, alembics, antiphony, axillary, barroomette, barelimbed, biscuity, cesspoolful, semitranslucent and libidream. The analysis of the patterns of translation revealed that 7 out of 15 creative hapax legomena in ENL preserved their unique status in RUL, i.e. they occurred in RUL only once, and these were translated either literally (e.g. libidream – либидocoн, antiphony – aнmифoния, biscuity – биcквиmный), or were rendered with the corresponding Russian synonyms (e.g. instantenousness – мгнoвeннocmь, barroomette – бapчик, crenullated – зубчamый, fountainous – вoдoмemный). Further, it was determined how many of the said 7 hapaxes both constitute authorspecific expressions and are not recorded in Great Reference Dictionary of Russian12 (Ozhegov and Shvedova 2000). It was revealed that only 2 hapax legomena 9

Kenny (2001) used selected hapax legomena deemed as creative expressions, which constituted 0.2% of the total number of hapax legomena in a source text. 10 Such a plural form (hapaxes) of “hapax legomena” was used, among others, by Kenny (2001). 11 This figure approximates the one proposed by Kenny (2001), which was 0.2%. 12 Oжeгoв, C., Швeдoвa H. (2000). Toлкoвый Cлoвapь pуccкoгo языкa. 4-e издaниe, дoпoлнeннoe. Mocквa.

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are not recorded in the said dictionary [those are вoдoмemный (equivalent of fountainous) and либидocoн (equivalent of libidream)]. As a result, only 2 Russian translations (13%) of the 15 creative hapax legomena in ENL constitute creative hapax legomena in RUL. Furthermore, 8 out of 15 creative hapax legomena in English did not preserve their unique status of hapax legomena in RUL. Five of them were translated with descriptive expressions, which implies the translation strategy of explicitation (e.g. cobwebby – пaуmинoй зapocшee; beasthood – cнacmь camиpa; alembics – вoлxoвcкиe иcчиcлeниe; axillary – пoд мышкoй; cesspoolful – цeлoй выгpeбнoй ямoй, пoлнoй). The remaining three hapax legomena in ENL were rendered with non-creative synonyms, which were used in RUL more than once, e.g. charshaf – вуaль, semitranslucent – кpужeвнoй, barelimbed – гoлoнoгий. Summing up, the results presented above show that Nabokov exhibited a strong tendency towards normalization while translating creative hapax legomena into Russian. On the other hand, the preference for explicitation (and thus for more words) when translating 5 creative hapax legomena into Russian again provides evidence of the fact that the English language is more ambiguous and vague in its surface forms (Comrie 1981: 31–79), which are broad in meaning, whereas Russian is more explicit semantically. It again follows that more words are required in Russian to render apt and faithful translation of broad-meaning English words.

17.5

Conclusions

The aim of this corpus-driven comparison of English and Russian Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov was to identify major lexical differences obtaining between the two parallel texts. To that end, the study focused on a quantitative comparison of the wordlists generated for both texts as well as on a qualitative examination of the translation strategies used by Nabokov while translating creative hapax legomena from English into Russian. At the same time, the study revealed major typological differences between English and Russian, which exerted a profound influence on the characteristics of the Russian translation. The analysis of word frequency lists revealed that top-frequency words in ENL account for a higher percentage of the overall number of running words in the said text, as compared with RUL. As a result, ENL has more repetitions and lower lexical variety in terms of top-frequency words, while RUL (and Russian texts in general) has fewer repetitions and higher lexical variety among top-frequency words. This phenomenon results not from the subjective influence of the translator’s activity, but it is due to the typological differences between Russian and English morphology – where English employs articles, prepositions or particles, Russian employs inflectional endings or affixes, which are bound with the base forms of lexical words and thus constitute individual word types featured in the frequency list in lower positions.

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The analysis of the lexical wordlists (with top-frequency grammatical words deleted) revealed more lexical and stylistic features of the translation. While translating reporting verbs, Nabokov used either synonymous reporting verbs, employed more specific and concrete verbs, or resorted to structural changes, omissions or condensing. Using more concrete synonyms indicates that these English reporting verbs are not semantically determined and it is only context which allows for the specification of their exact meaning. This phenomenon is due to another typological difference whereby the Russian language is more explicit semantically (i.e. words have more specific meaning distinctions) than English, which in turn is more ambiguous and vague in its surface forms (Comrie 1981: 31–79). As a result, a proper translation of English reporting verbs (or broad English lexemes in general) requires that more lexical (content) words be used in order to produce a natural and acceptable text in Russian. The analysis of translation of English creative hapax legomena into Russian revealed that Nabokov exhibited a strong tendency towards lexical normalization. More specifically, only 2 Russian translations of 15 creative hapax legomena in ENL constitute creative hapax legomena in RUL. Furthermore, the study revealed the preference for explicitation (and thus using more words) when translating creative hapax legomena into Russian, which again proves that the English language is more ambiguous and vague in its surface forms (which are broad in meaning and undetermined without context), while Russian is more explicit semantically. All in all, the study revealed that lexical differences between English and Russian Lolita result form both objective (typological differences between the language systems) and subjective factors (translation strategies). As a result, although translators are free to use multifarious lexical, syntactic or pragmatic translation strategies, they are still to a large extent dependant on the typological characteristics of source and target languages.

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