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POLSKA AKADEMIA NAUK WYDZIAŁ I NAUK HUMANISTYCZNYCH I SPOŁECZNYCH SPOŁECZNA AKADEMIA NAUK W ŁODZI

ROCZNIK LXIII

ZESZYT 4/2016

KWARTALNIK NEOFILOLOGICZNY

WARSZAWA 2016

Wydawca POLSKA AKADEMIA NAUK Wydział I Nauk Humanistycznych i Społecznych Społeczna Akademia Nauk w Łodzi Published by POLISH ACADEMY OF SCIENCES Division 1 of Humanities and Social Sciences University of Social Sciences in Łódź Kwartalnik Neofilologiczny Czasopismo założone w 1954 roku – Established in 1954 Redaktor Naczelny – Editor-in-Chief Franciszek Grucza Asystenci Redaktora Naczelnego – Assistants to the Editor-in-Chief Ilona Banasiak, Iga Maria Lehman, Justyna Alnajjar, Monika Płużyczka

Rada Redakcyjna – Editorial Board Franciszek Grucza (przewodniczący/chairman, Warszawa), Laura Auteri (Palermo), Iwona Bartoszewicz (Wrocław), Zofia Berdychowska (Kraków), Bartłomiej Błaszkiewicz (Warszawa), Krzysztof Bogacki (Warszawa), Silvia Bonacchi (Warszawa), Karl-Dieter Bünting (Essen), Piotr Cap (Łódź), Andrzej Ceynowa (Gdańsk), Piotr P. Chruszczewski (Wrocław), Henryk Chudak (Warszawa), Tomasz Czarnecki (Warszawa), Katarzyna Dziubalska-Kołaczyk (Poznań), Jacek Fisiak (Poznań), Norbert Fries (Berlin), Wolfgang Frühwald (München), Janusz Golec (Lublin), Sambor Grucza (Warszawa), Katarzyna Grzywka-Kolago (Warszawa), Elżbieta Jamrozik (Warszawa), Andrzej Kątny (Gdańsk), Barbara Kielar (Warszawa), Rolf-Dieter Kluge (Warszawa/Tübingen), Lech Kolago (Warszawa), Tomasz Krzeszowski (Warszawa), Maria K. Lasatowicz (Opole), Wiesław Malinowski (Poznań), Elżbieta Mańczak-Wohlfeld (Kraków), Hubert Orłowski (Poznań), Dennis Preston (Norman), Wacław Rapak (Kraków), Matti Rissanen (Helsinki), Odile Schneider-Mizony (Strasbourg), Shaoxiang Hua (Chengdu), Piotr Stalmaszczyk (Łódź), Aleksander Szwedek (Poznań), Teresa Tomaszkiewicz (Poznań), Anna Tylusińska-Kowalska (Warszawa), Jianhua Zhu (Szanghaj), Jerzy Zybert (Warszawa) Redaktor zeszytu – Issue Editor Franciszek Grucza Asystent redaktora zeszytu – Assistant to the Issue Editor Ilona Banasiak Wydanie publikacji dofinansowane przez Ministerstwo Nauki i Szkolnictwa Wyższego oraz Społeczną Akademię Nauk w Łodzi The publication of the journal is supported by a grant from the Ministry of Science and Higher Education and the University of Social Sciences in Łódź Adres Redakcji – Address of the Editor Prof. dr hab. dr h.c. mult. Franciszek Grucza Społeczna Akademia Nauk – Kwartalnik Neofilologiczny ul. Łucka 11, 00-842 Warszawa e-mail: [email protected] © Copyright by Wydział I Nauk Humanistycznych i Społecznych PAN Przygotowanie do druku: Dom Wydawniczy ELIPSA, ul. Inflancka 15/198, 00-189 Warszawa tel./fax 22 635 03 01, 22 635 17 85, e-mail: [email protected], www.elipsa.pl

Druk: Wrocławska Drukarnia Naukowa PAN Sp. z o.o. im. Stanisława Kulczyńskiego 53-505 Wrocław, ul. Lelewela 4

KWARTALNIK NEOFILOLOGICZNY, LXIII, 4/2016

ARTYKUŁY

ELŻBIETA MAŃCZAK-WOHLFELD (UNIWERSYTET JAGIELLOŃSKI, KRAKÓW) ALICJA WITALISZ (UNIWERSYTET PEDAGOGICZNY, KRAKÓW)

THE INFLUENCE OF ENGLISH ON POLISH MORPHOLOGY

The aim of the present paper is to show that the influence of English is not only limited to the area of lexical borrowing. Non-lexical influence includes, for instance, occasional introduction of the genitive -s, semantic loans, loan translations and morphological modifications. Four English combining forms: -gate, -(a/o)holic, cyber-, e- have been selected for the analysis. The research material for the study comes mainly from the National Corpus of Polish as well as from some earlier publications on new morphological developments in Polish. The morphological and semantic analysis of the four combining forms include: the origin/s of each morpheme, their meaning/s, the type of morphemes they attach to, spelling rules, other information if applicable, e.g. gender, feminine counterparts. The adoption of English combining forms results in the adoption of a foreign word-formation rule that has become productive in Polish. KEYWORDS: non-lexical influence of English, morphological loans, word-formation rules

INTRODUCTION

It cannot be denied that the influence of English on Polish has drastically increased recently if we look at it from the historical perspective. The process proper of borrowing from English into Polish began during the 18th century. It is only in the 19th century, however, that a gradual increase in the impact of English on Polish becomes apparent in the sociolinguistic scene in Poland – a development reflecting the general trend in Europe at the time. The 20th century saw a steady increase of Anglicisms in Polish, but it was not until the second half of the 20th century that the influence of English gained noticeable significance. Since the middle sixties, the heyday of the Beatles and the start of the spread of “pop-culture,” English has become ever more popular the world over. In Poland, however, for the most part of the communist era it was fairly difficult for Poles to make contact with the English language either via the mass media or via visits to English-speaking countries – notably, Great Britain and the USA. The changes in the political system in Poland in 1989 altered all that. Since then, Polish society has opened to Western

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influences and, as a consequence, interest in the culture, new technologies, and other aspects of life in Great Britain and the United States in particular has grown noticeably. Large numbers of people, especially among the younger generation, have begun to learn English. These factors, along with the fairly easy access to English mass media, including the Internet, have promoted contact between English and Polish and, consequently, have increased the influence of English on the Polish language. The impact has for the most part been in the area of lexical borrowing, although there is evidence of other types of influence. Non-lexical changes include apart from the impact of English on Polish morphology, which, as the title indicates, is the subject-matter of the present paper, the following: 1. Occasional introduction of the genitive -s added to Polish names, e.g. Witek’s ‘name of a firm’ (Mańczak-Wohlfeld 1993: 280). 2. Infrequent introduction of the English plural marker -s instead of the Polish -y, for instance Buts ‘a shoe factory’, Galons ‘a music band’. 3. Introduction of clipped names in official language, e.g. Radek Sikorski < Radosław Sikorski (a former minister of foreign affairs and an MP). 4. Use of semantic loans, e.g. the phrase dokładnie tak is overused under the influence of English precisely, exactly (Witalisz 2007). 5. The use of loan translations, e.g. W czym mogę pomóc / Czy mogę pomóc? translated directly from the English Can I help you? Similarly, Miłego dnia / weekendu (< E. Have a nice day/ weekend) (Witalisz 2015). 6. Impact of English on Polish syntax, which is evidenced by the adoption of right-headed noun+noun compounds, a hitherto unknown type in Polish, for example fliz shop (‘tile shop’), hurt-land (‘wholesale’), Sobieski crown (Sobieski = a Polish king’s name) as well as in compounds containing no English loanwords, e.g. auto lakiernia (‘car varnish’), auto złom (‘car scrap’) (Mańczak-Wohlfeld 1993: 281; Witalisz 2009). 7. Widespread prepositioning of adjectives, which is contrary to Polish word order, e.g. formalna analiza instead of analiza formalna (‘formal analysis’). 8. Influence of English on the graphic level, which is observed in billboards, e.g. szlafrOK ‘a dressing gown’, 4 you ‘for you’. We can, therefore, conclude that due to a considerable inflow of Anglicisms as well as of other linguistic elements of English origin, the face of Polish has been somewhat altered (Mańczak-Wohlfeld 2004, 2008). Although most publications concerned with the impact of English on Polish are devoted to the lexical influence, a few scholars point to the above mentioned nonlexical influence of English on the Polish language. A number of articles discuss the widespread usage of such morphemes as -gate (Kreja 1993, Lubecka 2004, Wyrwas 2004), e- (Zabawa 2004, Data 2009a, b), -ing (Jochym-Kuszlikowa 2005,


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Rostowska 2009, Witalisz 2014), -holik1 (Wyrwas 2004), cyber-2 (Ochmann 2000, 2002, 2004) as well as the occurrence of English nouns which usually become parts of hybrid noun+noun compounds, e.g. fan (Wróblewski 1991, Waszakowa 2002), land, burger (Waszakowa 2002, Mańczak-Wohlfeld 2008), bus, show, shop, story (Waszakowa 2002), top (Ochmann 2004), man/men, party, boy.

RESEARCH MATERIAL

We have selected for the analysis four English combining forms: -gate, -(a/o)holic, cyber- and e- used as parts of Polish compound words. Their grammatical status is not set (both in Polish and in English) as they are defined as either combining forms or affixes in different dictionaries and works on morphology.3 In a few works they are referred to generically as word-forming elements, which suggests the difficulty in deciding on their status. Some scholars regard parts of compounds which reappear in a whole series of compounds as affixes (e.g. Orzechowska 1984). A way out proposed by some Polish scholars is to label them as affixoids (cf. Jadacka 2001: 35). While resolving a dispute over morphological terminology is not our goal, following the majority of lexicographic works and argumentation provided there, we shall treat word-forming elements such as -gate, -(a/o)holic, cyber- and e- as combining forms used to derive compound words. The research material for the present study comes from the National Corpus of Polish as well as from previous studies on new morphological developments in Polish (see References). The semantic and morphological analysis of the four combining forms includes: 1) the origins/provenance of each morpheme 2) their meaning(s) 3) the types of morphemes they attach to 4) spelling rules, whether compatible with English 5) other information if applicable, e.g. gender, feminine counterparts, etc. 1 Originally from Gr. hólos ‘whole’ (SJPDor); in English -aholic has been extracted from the lexeme alcoholic and it denotes ‘being addicted to’ (RH, MW). In this meaning it has been borrowed into Polish. 2 Originally from Gr. kybernētikós ‘steering’ (SJPDor); in English it refers to computers as well as the Internet and in this meaning it has been borrowed into Polish. 3 Cf. Bauer (1993: 213), Štekauer (2000: 103), Warren (1990: 124), AHD, CED, DAS, MW, RH, WSWO. Polish works: Kreja (1993, 2002: 54-55), Jadacka (2001: 95), Przybylska (2002), Waszakowa (2005: 62-63). A detailed account of the treatment of such morphemes by Polish scholars in Ochmann (2004: 38-42).

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-gate

The morpheme -gate was originally extracted from American English Watergate in 1972. Following this model, other -gate formations appeared in English, e.g. Irangate, moneygate, Zippergate, Monicagate, Spygate, Wheatgate, Travelgate, etc. Some of the English expressions have been borrowed into Polish as loanwords, e.g. Watergate, Irangate, Travelgate, moneygate, Lewinskygate or loanblends, e.g. rozporekgate (< E. zippergate), and later provided a productive word-formation pattern. While -gate is generic, the element that is attached to it is specifying and it is replaced in every new expression. The National Corpus of Polish lists 140 lexemes with -gate, which all refer to ‘some kind of scandal, often involving the concealment of wrongdoing’. -gate is attached to native and foreign bases of the following types: 1) personal names (both first and last names) and pseudonyms (50 instances), e.g. Begergate, Katarzyna Gate, kohlgate, Izabela-gate, 2) names of places, companies, sports clubs, airports and others (25), e.g. Afganistangate, Aspirynagate, Słupsk-gate, Okęcie gate, 3) acronyms and clippings (16), e.g. SB-gate,4 HIV-gate, VAT-gate, PKO-gate, bibliogate, 4) common nouns (34), e.g. Kasynogate, Komisja-gate (‘commission-gate’), ratuszgate (‘cityhall gate’), wódka-gate (‘vodka-gate’), 5) foreign words (which combined with -gate refer to Polish reality) (15), e.g. laptop-gate, Mozarella-gate, rubel-gate, Waterclosetgate. In most cases the base before -gate appears in its full form; polysyllabic bases are on occasion clipped before the addition of -gate, e.g. bibliogate (from biblioteka ‘library’), dinogate (from dinozaur ‘dinosaur’), Jugogate (referring to former Jugoslavia). Spelling is unstable, most often -gate attaches to the base without a hyphen, though there are also cases with hyphenated and separate spellings. When the same -gate expression is used in several texts, it may be spelt differently every time. On occasion, in texts reporting on some wrongdoing -gate is used as an autonomous lexeme and a synonym to ‘scandal’. -gate formations happen to be used with Polish afera ‘scandal’ as if explaining the meaning of the foreign -gate, e.g. “była afera Szydłowski-gate” (‘there was Szydłowski-gate scandal’), “afera Giertychgate” (‘Giertych-gate scandal’), which results in tautological expressions (examples after Zabawa 2009: 34-35). Sometimes -gate is attached to nonce compounds that were created to refer to a specific event, e.g. Rokita-Lufthansa-gate (ibid.: 38). It is possible in a few contexts to determine the grammatical gender of -gate in Polish. It is usually feminine, most probably by analogy to Polish afera (fem.) 4 One of the first -gate occurrences which appeared in 1986, i.e. before the political change took place in Poland.


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meaning, as stated above, ‘scandal’. Gender is marked by inflectional morphemes attached to verb forms or to modifying pronouns and adjectives, e.g. “Erosgate rozwikłana”, “Nasza Agentgate to ... nie Watergate” (examples after Kreja 1993: 67, Zabawa 2009: 35). In one context only it is masculine: “groźniejszą aferą od schnapsgate-u”. The last example illustrates that formations with -gate may be declined, following the Polish inflectional paradigm. The word-formation pattern represented by formations with -gate is untypical of Polish. Right-headedness in Polish compound words is normally conditioned by the appearance of the interfix -o- and the modifying element never appears in the form of an uninflected noun. All the -gate expressions in Polish break this rule through copying the English word-formation pattern, which means that the influence of English in this case is not restricted to the borrowing of a bound morpheme but that it penetrates deeper into the derivational system of Polish. To sum up, the productivity of -gate in Polish is always inversely proportional to the uprightness of political or economic powers. Although -gate is listed in a Polish dictionary of foreign words (WSWO), -gate formations, having very specific reference, do not become institutionalized as part of the Polish lexical system.

-(o)holik (an adapted form of E. -(a/o)holic)

The morpheme -(a/o)holic has been extracted from English alcoholic and used productively in: sugarholic, foodoholic, workaholic, golfaholic, chocoholic, and shopaholic. Polish has borrowed four English loanwords: workaholik (< E. workaholic), szopoholik (< E. shopaholic), dataholik (< E. dataholic), czatoholik (< E. chataholic) and two loanblends: pracoholik (< E. workaholic) and sklepoholik/zakupoholik (< E. shopaholic), in which the original English -(a/o)holic has been adapted graphically and phonetically to Polish -(o)holik. They all indicate ‘a person who is addicted to or obsessed with an object or activity’. Polish -(o)holik expressions are almost as frequent as those with -gate. The National Corpus of Polish enumerates 81 examples with -(o)holik, which we have divided into the following five categories: 1) common nouns with -oholik (46 instances), e.g. cukroholik (‘sugarholic’), internetoholik, newsoholik, sklepoholik (‘shopaholic’), 2) common nouns with -holik (2), e.g. bełkotholik (‘mumbleholic’), internetholik, 3) common nouns with -oholiczka, which indicates the feminine gender (19), e.g. herbatoholiczka (‘female teaholic’), seksoholiczka (‘female sexaholic’), wikipedioholiczka, teleholiczka, 4) proper nouns with -oholik (4), e.g. islandoholik (‘Icelandoholic’), Wikipedioholik, 5) clippings and acronyms combined with -(o)holik/holiczka (10), e.g. wikiholik, socjoholik (‘socioholik’), TVholik, muzoholiczka (‘female musicholic’).

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The spelling of all -(o)holik formations in Polish is stable. Out of 81 items collected, 21 are used in the feminine gender which is marked by the Polish suffix -ka added to -(o)holik (> -(o)holiczka). It is worth noting that 11 such examples have their masculine counterparts, e.g. zakupoholik and zakupoholiczka (‘he shopaholic’ and ‘she shopaholic’), książkoholik and książkoholiczka (‘he bookaholic’ and ‘she bookaholic’).

cyber-

The morpheme cyber- has been extracted from English cybernetics and used productively to form other cyber- formations in English, such as e.g.: cybertalk, cyberart, cyberspace. With the advent of computers and the Internet Polish has borrowed English cyber- lexemes both in the form of loanwords, e.g. cybernetyka (< E. cybernetics), cyberpunk (< E. cyberpunk), cyberseks (< E. cybersex), cybersquatting, cyber risk, and loanblends, e.g. cyberprzestrzeń (< E. cyberspace), cyberglina (< E. cybercop), cyberwojna (< E. cyber-warfare), cyberspołeczność (< E. cybercommunity), cyberświat (< E. Cyberworld), cyber poniedziałek (< E. Cyber Monday), cyber przemoc (< E. cyberbullying), cyber atak (< E. cyberattack). They have become a pattern for over 3005 Polish cyber- formations (NKJP), in which the morpheme cyber- means, following its English etymon, ‘relating to, or involving computers or computer networks (such as the Internet)’. In Polish, cyber- is attached to: 1) common nouns (285 examples), e.g. cyber-miasto (‘cyber-city’), cyber obywatel (‘cybercitizen’), Cyber policja (‘cyberpolice’), cyber żołnierz (‘cybersoldier’), 2) proper nouns (7), e.g. Cyber Kraków, Cyber Wielkopolska (‘cyber Greater Poland’), Cyber-Stalin, cyber-Europa, 3) adjectives (12), e.g. cyberdowcipny (‘cyberjocular’), cyber-dance’owy (‘cyberdance’), cyberkulturalny (‘cybercultural’), 4) and to one verb: cyber realizować (‘to cyber realize’). The resulting compound words are usually unhyphenated, except for a few adjectives. Cyber happens to be used in Polish also as a free morpheme, either to postmodify, e.g. pieniądze cyber (‘cybermoney’), or premodify nouns, e.g. cyber muzyka (‘cybermusic’). Polish compounds with cyber- are often used interchangeably with two-word phrases involving the adjective cybernetyczny (cybernetic), e.g. cybersieć (‘cyberweb’) co-exists with sieć cybernetyczna (‘cybernetic web’), where cybernetyczny means ‘related to the Internet, computer, electronic, virtual’.

5 There are 317 formations with cyber- in the analyzed material but some of them are loanwords or loanblends from English.


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e-

e- is a clipped form of English electronic and was used perhaps for the first time in the word e-mail (AHD). A number of English e- formations modelled on e-mail have been borrowed into Polish, again either as loanwords, e.g. e-book, e-banking, e-biznes (< E. e-business), e-commerce, e-production, e-service, e-learning, e-tools, e-solutions, e-author, e-market, or loanblends, e.g. e-rynek (< E. e-market), e-handel (< E. e-trade), e-książka (< E. e-book), e-konto (< E. e-account), e-społeczność (< E. e-community), e-papierosy (< E. e-cigarettes). E- is listed as a separate entry in dictionaries of foreign words in Polish (SZA, WSWO), meaning ‘electronic, online, indicating the involvement of the Internet’. E- formations appear as names of online shops and companies, as names of webpages of various institutions as well as of websites that provide information related to all sorts of issues, from dating, through cooking and roof building to legal advice. In the National Corpus of Polish 186 cases of e- formations are listed. The morpheme e- attaches to: 1) common nouns (161 examples), e.g. e-demokracja (‘e-democracy’), e-urząd (‘e-office’), e-adwokat (‘e-lawyer’), e-kontrola (‘e-control’), 2) proper nouns, including place names, titles of newspapers, books and personal names (10), e.g. e-Polska (‘e-Poland’), e-“Rzeczpospolita”, e-Biblia (‘e-Bible’), e-Beata, 3) verbs (2): e-mailować (‘to e-mail’), e-handlować (‘to e-trade’), 4) adjectives (7), e.g. e-cyfrowe (‘e-digital’), e-wydawniczy (‘e-publishing’), e-książkowy (‘e-book’), e-sportowy (‘e-sport’), 5) an adverb (1): e-mailowo (‘e-mail’), 6) and acronyms (5), e.g. e-PKO (‘e-PKO bank’), e-sklep RTV (‘e-RTV shop’). The combining form e- always appears in lower case, even in proper names, where it is the other element that is capitalized, e.g. e-Planeta, e-Polska, e-Biblia. E- formations are mostly hyphenated, though in a few cases the hyphen is dropped, e.g. ekartka (‘e-card’), erodzice (‘e-parents’). The pronunciation of e- is either Polish /i/ or /ɛ/, which is most probably conditioned by the speakers’ knowledge of English since in Polish the letter e is always pronounced as /ɛ/. The inflection of Polish e- formations does not pose any problems since the second element is native or a well-assimilated loan, capable of being inflected according to Polish grammatical paradigms. e- formations are often used interchangeably with compound words including either the unabbreviated form electronic or other combining forms such as cyberand tele-, as well as adjectives internetowy (‘Internet’), wirtualny (‘virtual’) and cyfrowy (‘digital’) (Ochmann 2004: 195; Zabawa 2004: 59), e.g.: 1) e-podpis (‘e-signature’) co-exists with podpis elektroniczny (‘electronic signature’), cyberpodpis (‘cybersignature’), cyfrowy podpis (‘digital signature’), 2) e-praca (‘e-job’), telepraca (‘telejob’), 3) e-sklep (‘e-shop’), sklep internetowy (‘Internet shop’).

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The analytical expressions are usually used to explain the meaning of the premodifying e-. A special use of e- is attested in contaminations such as e-ntuzjazm (e- + entuzjazm ‘enthusiasm’), e-dukacja (e- + edukacja ‘education’), e-kspert (e- + ekspert ‘expert’), e-lektorat (e- + elektorat ‘electorate’) (Ochmann 2004: 197). In a few cases, e- and e have been used separately, e.g. “E” w wyborach 2001 (‘E in the 2001 elections’), E-, po co to? (‘E-, do we need it?’) (Ochmann 2004: 198; Zabawa 2004: 58).

i-

Finally, it is interesting to note that Polish speakers create lexical innovations with the combining form i-, meaning ‘Internet, informative, interactive’, pronounced as /i/, which is an abbreviated form of the lexeme Internet. I- formations are, perhaps, created by analogy with e- formations or by analogy with the names of Apple products such as iMac, iPad, iPod, iBook. Dictionaries of English do not list i- as a separate combining form. Perhaps the reasons for the productivity of i- in Polish should be looked for in the phonetic similarity between the English combining form e- /i:/ and the Polish letter i- /i/, and in the lucky coincidence that the word Internet starts with the letter i, pronounced in Polish as /i/. i- formations are much less numerous than the expressions with e- and the 13 examples found in the National Corpus of Polish include e.g.: i-aukcja (‘i-auction’), i-książka (‘i-book’), i-słownik (‘i-dictionary’), i-apteka (‘i-pharmacy’), i-bazar (‘i-(open-air)market’) and i-banking, the last one perhaps a loanword from English. I- formations are relatively new in Polish.

CONCLUSIONS

To sum up, all of the combining forms discussed above are taken over from English as parts of polymorphemic loanwords. If a number of loanwords share the same element, they are analyzed morphologically by Polish native speakers, which is often facilitated by their fairly good command of English. Then, the English combining forms are used productively in Polish by analogy to English expressions. They become independent and active derivational means for the creation of whole series of expressions, which are easily interpreted semantically (Waszakowa 2005: 19; Witalisz 2014: 328). It is important to emphasize that the word-formation pattern used in the discussed formations is not typical of Polish. The adoption of English combining forms results, in this case, in the adoption of a foreign word-formation rule that


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has become productive in Polish. Most of the formations are hybrid creations, formed from English and Polish morphemes and having no equivalents in English. The tendency to create the -gate, -(o)holik, cyber- and e- formations reflects their pragmatic function, which means semantic brevity and preciseness, formal transparency and conciseness. Besides, they catch readers’/hearers’ attention and make the language lexis more international.

REFERENCES BAUER, L. (1993): English Word-Formation, Cambridge. DATA, K. (2009a): “Wyrazy złożone z członami E-, I-, M- w języku polskim”, in: SKARŻYŃSKI, M., SZPICZAKOWSKA, M. (eds.): W kręgu języka, Kraków, 267-275. DATA, K. (2009b): “E-book jako nowy gatunek literacki”, in: OŻOG, K. (ed.): Język żyje. Rzecz o współczesnej polszczyźnie, Rzeszów, 200-208. JADACKA, H. (2001): System słowotwórczy polszczyzny (1945-2000), Warszawa. JOCHYM-KUSZLIKOWA, L. (2005): “Rzeczowniki na -инг i -ing we współczesnym języku polskim”, in: BALOWSKI, M., CHLEBDA, W. (eds.): Ogród nauk filologicznych. Księga jubileuszowa poświęcona Profesorowi Stanisławowi Kochmanowi, Opole, 267-277. KOLIN, P.C. (1979): “The pseudo-suffix -oholic”, American Speech, 54, 74–76. KREJA, B. (1993): “O formancie -gate ‘afera, skandal’”, Język Polski, LXXIII/1-2, 63-68. KREJA, B. (2000): “Pracoholicy i seksoholicy”, in: KREJA, B. (ed.): Mówię, więc jestem. Rozmowy o współczesnej polszczyźnie, Gdańsk, 44-47. LUBECKA, A. (2004): “‘Oscypekgate’, czyli o kulturze i tożsamości kulinarnej Podhala”, Biuletyn Gottodydaktyczny, 11, 1-27. MAŃCZAK-WOHLFELD, E. (1993): “Uwagi o wpływie języka angielskiego na polszczyznę końca XX w.”, Język Polski, LXXIII/4-5, 279-281. MAŃCZAK-WOHLFELD, E. (2004): “Polish”, in: GÖRLACH, M. (ed.): English in Europe, Oxford, 213-228. MAŃCZAK-WOHLFELD, E. (2008): “Influences of English in contemporary Polish”, in: ANDREWS, E. (ed.): Linguistic Changes in Post-Communist Eastern Europe and Eurasia, New York, 88-102. OCHMANN, D. (2000): “Złożenia z cyber- we współczesnym języku polskim”, Język Polski, LXXX/1-2, 23-34. OCHMANN, D. (2002): “Między dezintegracją a analogią. O pewnym typie złożeń współczesnej polszczyzny”, Język Polski, LXXXII/5, 322-329. OCHMANN, D. (2004): Nowe wyrazy złożone o podstawie zdezintegrowanej w języku polskim, Kraków. ORZECHOWSKA, A. (1984): “Rzeczownik”, in: GRZEGORCZYKOWA, R., LASKOWSKI, R., WRÓBEL, H. (eds.): Gramatyka współczesnego języka polskiego. Morfologia, Warszawa, 220-274. PRZYBYLSKA, R. (2002): “O najnowszym słownictwie polskim”, Polonistyka, 9, 516-520. ROSTOWSKA, M. (2009): “Struktury hybrydalne w języku młodzieży – analiza słowotwórcza”, Język Polski, LXXXIX/3, 179-190. SĘKOWSKA, E. (2008): “Wpływ języka angielskiego na rozwój zasobu leksykalnego polszczyzny”, in: DUBISZ, S., STĄPOR, I. (eds.), Wielojęzyczność. Kontakty językowe w rozwoju kultur słowiańskich, Pułtusk, 389-403. ŠTEKAUER, P. (2000): Rudiments of English Linguistics, Prešov. WARREN, B. (1990): “The importance of combining forms”, in: DRESSLER, W., LUSCHÜTZKY, H.C., PFEIFFER, O.E., RENNISON, J.R. (eds.), Contemporary Morphology, Berlin-New York, 111-132.

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WASZAKOWA, K. (2001): “Różnorodność i intensywność procesów przejmowania elementów obcych w słowotwórstwie współczesnej polszczyzny”, Poradnik Językowy, 6, 2-14. WASZAKOWA, K. (2005): Przejawy internacjonalizacji w słowotwórstwie współczesnej polszczyzny, Warszawa. WASZAKOWA, K. (2009): “Derywowane anglicyzmy jako wyraz ekspansji słownictwa potocznego i środowiskowego w języku mediów ostatniego ćwierćwiecza”, Slavia Meridionalis, 9, 89-101. WITALISZ, A. (2007): Anglosemantyzmy w języku polskim – ze słownikiem, Kraków. WITALISZ, A. (2009): “Czy nowe polskie zestawienia determinatywne powielają wzór angielski?”, in: OŻÓG, K. (ed.), Język żyje. Rzecz o współczesnej polszczyźnie, Rzeszów, 87-97. WITALISZ, A. (2014): “The productivity of the English -ing suffix in contemporary Polish”, Studia Linguistica Universitatis Iagellonicae Cracoviensis, 131/3: 321-333. WITALISZ, A. (2015): English Loan Translations in Polish: Word-Formation Patterns, Lexicalization, Idiomaticity and Institutionalization, Frankfurt am Main. WYRWAS, K. (2004): “Rywingate i pracoholik”, Język Polski, LXXXIV/2, 146-148. ZABAWA, M. (2004): “Formy z cząstką e- we współczesnym języku polskim”, Poradnik Językowy, 5, 55-60. ZABAWA, M. (2009): “Begergate, Konkubina gate, Pierścień-gate: o poważnym i mniej poważnym użyciu cząstki -gate w polskim Internecie”, Poradnik Językowy, 10, 32-42. DICTIONARIES AND CORPORA AHD – American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, 5th edition, 2011. CED – Collins English Dictionary – Complete and Unabridged, 12th edition, 2014. DAS – The Dictionary of American Slang, 4th edition, KIPFER, B.A., CHAPMAN, R.L. (eds.), 2007. MW – Merriam-Webster online. Available at: http:// merriam-webster.com. NKJP – Narodowy Korpus Języka Polskiego (National Corpus of Polish). PRZEPIÓRKOWSKI, A., BAŃKO, M., GÓRSKI, R., LEWANDOWSKA-TOMASZCZYK, B. (eds.), 2012. Available at: http:// www.nkjp.pl. RH – Random House Kernerman Webster’s College Dictionary, 2010. SJPDor – Słownik języka polskiego. DOROSZEWSKI, W. (ed.), 1958-1969. Available at: http:// doroszewski.pwn.pl. SZA – Słownik zapożyczeń angielskich w polszczyźnie, MAŃCZAK-WOHLFELD, E. (ed.), 2010. WSWO – Wielki Słownik Wyrazów Obcych PWN, BAŃKO, M. (ed.), 2003.


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APPENDIX 1: FORMATIONS WITH -GATE

-gate + personal Bergergate, Blida-gate, Durczok gate, Gajtek gate, Giertych-gate, Kempski names, gate, Misiak-gate, Gudzowaty-Michnikgate, Iksiński-gate, Krywultgate, pseudonyms Leppergate, Luberagate, MichnikGate, StolzmanGate / Stolecgate, Millergate, MłynarzGate, Nycz gate, Pawlakgate, Rywin-gate / Rywingate, Sobotka gate, Sudoł gate, Szydłowski-gate, Piaseckigate, Rasićgate, Reagangate, szarongate, Monika-gate / Monicagate, Watergate, kulczykgate, Kropiwnickigate, kohlgate, Kaczyński gate, Łapińskigate, Osamagate, Kuczma-gate, Mabelgate, Montoya-gate, Nyczgate, Kempskigate, Oleksygate, Clintongate, Begergate, Rokita-Lufthansa-gate, Kataryna Gate, Anet-gate, Izabela-gate, Regagate, Rugałagate, Sawickagate, Wielgusgate -gate + names of place, company, sportsclub and other

Afganistangate, Agoragate, Aspirynagate, Bogatingate, Bornitgate, Erosgate, Floragate, Irakgate, Klewkigate, Lęborkgate, Lubingate, Magdalenkagate, marlborogate, Okęcie gate, Orlengate, Paksasgate, Parysgate, Polskagate, PROXY-gate, Samoagate, Słupia-gate, Słupsk-gate, Starachowicegate, Szczakowianka-gate, Wodnikgate

-gate + acronyms, clippings

bibliogate, dinogate, FOZZ-gate, GSMgate, HIV-gate, Jugogate, NFI-gate, pecgate, PKO-gate, Sanepid-gate, SB-gate (1986), tiwigate/tivi-gate, VAT-er Gate, VAT-gate, WIT gate / WITgate, X-gate

-gate + common nouns

Afergate, Agentgate, budżetgate, chomikgate, ciapagate, cytrynygate, Drogówkagate, flaga-gate, fonografgate, gazetagate, Gwizdek Gate, Kasetagate, Kasynogate, klasztorgate, Komisja-gate, Konkubina gate, kosze-gate, Kuchcikgate, Meblegate, oscypekgate, Pierścień-gate, Pikuśgate, promil gate, przepustki-gate, pluskwagate, ratuszgate, Ropagate, rozporek-gate, ruragate, słupgate, trabantgate, wódka-gate, Żarówa gate, żelatynagate

-gate + foreign Chinagate, Cowgate, intelligate, laptop-gate, Mobbinggate, moon-gate, words to refer Mozarella-gate, Oilgate, push-pull gate, schnapsgate-u, rubbergate, rubelto Polish reality gate, sex-gate, Waterclosetgate, weaponsgate

APPENDIX 2: FORMATIONS WITH -(O)HOLIK

-oholik + common nouns

biegoholik, cięcioholik, cukrocholik / cukroholik, cycoholik, czatoholik, czekoladoholik, dataholik, fantasoholik, filatelistoholik, filmoholik, herbatoholik, internetoholik, jetocholik, kinoholik, knajpoholik, komputeroholik, królikoholik, książkoholik, kupnoholik / kupoholik, libroholik, maratonoholik, mlecznoryżoholik, mlekoholik, muzykoholik, naukoholik, netoholik, newsoholik, pizzoholik, pracoholik, randkoholik, rumoholik, sejmoholik, seksoholik, siecioholik, sklepoholik, słodyczoholik, słowoholik, spiskoholik, szopoholik, walkmanoholik, władzoholik, workaholik, wózkoholik, zadurzenioholik, zakupoholik, zwycięscoholik

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APPENDIX 2 (cont.) -holik + common nouns

bełkotholik, internetholik

-(o)holiczka + common nouns

balsamoholiczka, błyszczykoholiczka, czekoladoholiczka, cukroholiczka, fajkoholiczka, herbatoholiczka, gadżetoholiczka, kawoholiczka, komputeroholiczka, książkoholiczka, muzykoholiczka, pracoholiczka, prędkościoholiczka, randkoholiczka, romansoholiczka, seksoholiczka, słodyczoholiczka, wikipedioholiczka, zakupoholiczka

-(o)holik + proper nouns

bisoholik (Radio Bis), islandoholik (Iceland), Wikipedioholik, Zuikoholik (Zuiko camera)

-(o)holik/czka + acronyms, clippings

infoholik, kompoholik, mykoholik (mykoheterotrofy), socjoholik, specoholik, teleholik, TVholik, wikiholik, muzoholiczka, teleholiczka (1994)

APPENDIX 3: FORMATIONS WITH CYBER-

cyber- + common nouns

cyber atak/cyberatak, cyber bezpieczeństwo, cyber bullyingiem, cyber człowiekiem, cyber elfy, cyber humanizmu, cyber kafejkach, cyber kawiarence, cyber kiosk, cyber kompozytorami, Cyber Krzyżówka, cyber ludzi, cyber nagonką, cyber obywateli, Cyber okulary, cyber olimpiada, cyber partnerem, Cyber patrol, Cyber pedofilem, cyber poezja, Cyber policja, cyber półświatek, cyber przemoc, cyber przestępstwo, cyber przyjaźń, cyber publiczności, Cyber punk, cyber risk, cyber roboty, cyber rynki, cyber seks, cyber-sztuka, cyber ściągę, cyber terroryzm, cyber ubezpieczenia, cyber wymuszenie, cyber zabawa, cyber zagrożeniach, cyber zupie, cyber żołnierzem, cyberantyterorysta, cyberapokalipsa, cyber-armat, cyber-artysta, CyberAtlas, cyberautobus, cyber-babcia, cyber-balanga, cyberbałagan, cyber-banicję, cyberbank, cyber-bestia, cyberbilet, cyberbiuro, cyberbiznesmen, CyberBosco, cybercafe/cyber-cafe, cyber-cerber, cyberchłopi, cyber-coś-tam, cyber-cud-marzenia, cyber-cywilizacji, cyberczad, cyberdemokracja, cyber-demonstracjach, cyber-dinozaur, cyberdolar, cyberdom, cyberdowcip, CyberDrakula, Cyberdres, Cyber-duszę, cyberdyletant, cyber-dyskusji, cyberdysydent, cyberdziecko, cyber-dżihad, cyberedukacja, cyber-encyklopedii, cyber-enklawy, cyber-erze, cyberfanklub, cyberflirt/cyber-flirt, cyberfobia, CyberGaleria, cybergazeta/cyber-gazeta, cybergeneracja, cybergęśle, cyberglina/cyber-glina, cyber-głupki, cybergość, cyber-gracze, cybergranie, cyberhandel, cyberhazard/cyber-hazard, cyberhełm, cyberhermeneutyka, cyberigrzyska, cyber-hiperseksualność, cyber-idolami, cyber-igrzysk/cyberigrzyska, Cyber-INDEKSU, cyberinfo, Cyber-Informator, cyberjęzyk, cyberkandydatka, cyberkapitalizm, cyberkask /cyber-kask, cyberkaszanka, cyberkawa/cyber-kawa, cyberkawiarenka, cyberkawiarnia/ cyber-kawiarnia, cyberkinetyczny, Cyber-klucz, cyber-kobiety, cyberkochanek, cyberkombinezon, cyberkomunikacja,


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cyberkonkurs, cyberkonspira, cyberkonto, cyberkonwencja, cyber-kończyn, cyberkorek, cyberkostium, cyber-Kościół, cyberkrem, cyberkryminalistami, cyberksięga, cyberkultura, Cyber-Kurczę, cyberland, cyberliteratura, cyber-liturgia, Cyberlokator, Cyber-lustrzanki, Cybermagazyn, cyber-magowie, cybermaluch, cyber-maniacy/cybermaniak, cyber-marketów, cyber-maszyny, cybermiasto / cyber-miasto, cybermiejsce, cybermieszkaniec, cybermiłość, cyber-mistycyzm, CyberMózg, cyber-nabożeństwo, cyber-napad, cyber-narcyzm, cybernazista, cybernimfa, cyber-oczy, cyberofobia, cyber-ogarów, cyber-okultyści, cyberolimpiada, cyberopera, cyber-orgazm, cyberotchłań, cyber-pająka, cyberpanienka, cyberpark, cyber-party, cyber-paskudztw, cyberpasterz, cyber-patrole, cyberpieniądze, cyberpies, cyber-pięknisia, cyber-piękności, cyberpionier, cyber-piractwa, cyberpirat, cyberpiwo/cyber-piwo, cyberplemię, cyberpodglądacz, cyberpodróż, cyberpokolenie, cyberpolicja, cyber-poniedziałek, cyberporadnik, cyberporno, cyberpornografia, cyber-postaciami, cyberprawo, cyber-produkcje, cyberPROLETARIAT, cyberpromenada, cyberprzecena, cyber-przekupa, cyber-przemocą, cyberprzesterzeń, cyberprzestępca, cyberprzestępczość, cyber-przeszukiwań, cyberprzyjaźń, cyberprzyszłość, cyberpstrykadełko, cyberpsychoterapia, cyberpub, cyberpunk, cyberpunkowiec, cyber-rabusie, cyberrandka, cyberreklama, cyber-restauracja, cyber-ręce, cyberromans / cyber-romansie, cyberrozliczenie, CyberRyby, cyberrynsztok, Cyber-sadysta, cybersakiewka, cybersalonowiec, Cybersam, cyberseks/sex, cybersemiotyka, Cybershow, cybersieć, cyber-skalpelem, cybersklep/cyber-sklep, cyberskóra, cyberskrawek, cyber-smok, cybersocjologia, cyberspiker, cyberspołeczność, cyber-sporcie, cyber-sprzętu, cybersquatter, cybersquatting, Cyber-strata, cyberstrażnik, cyberstrona, Cyberstudent, cyberstudio, cyber-stwórcę, cyberszaleństwo, cyber-sznurek, cyber-świecie, cyber-tamto, cyber-tawerna, cyberteologia, cyber-terroru, cyberterrorysta, cyberterroryzm, cyberthriller, cybertłumacz, cyber-to, cyber-trollem, cyber-ubezpieczenie, cyber-walkę, cyber-wegetarian, cyber-wernisaż, cyber-wędrowiec, cyber-wędrówka, cyberwiązanka, Cyber-Wiedźma, cyberwieniec, cyberwierność, Cyber-wiry, cyberwizytówka, cyberwłamywacz/cyber-włamywacze, cyberwojna/ cyber-wojna, cyber-wojowników, cyber-wspólnota, Cyber-wszechświat, cyberwudu, cyberwydarzenie, cyberwydatek, cyber-wymuszeniami, cyber-wynalazki, cyberwyścig, cyberzagrożenie, cyber-zabawki, cyber-zagrożenia, cyber-zapłodnienie, Cyber-zawody, cyber-zbiór, Cyberziarno, cyber-złodziejom, cyber-złośliwcy, Cyber-złudzenie, cyber-zmagania, cyberzwierzak/ cyber-zwierzak, cyberzwierzątko, cyberzwierzę, cyber-zwłoki, cyber-żandarma, cyberżołnierz, cyber-życie cyber- + proper nouns

Cyber Burza, Cyber-Europy, Cyber Kraków, Cyber-lego, Cyber-Stalina, Cyber Wielkopolska, CyberZnak

cyber- + adjectives

cyber-alienowy, cyber-dance’owy, cyber-fotograficzne, cyberkosmiczny, cyberkulturalny, cyber-nowoczesne, cyber-obyczajowych, cyber-potępionej, cyberprzestrzenny, cyberpunkowy, cyber-społeczne, cyber ścigany

cyber- + verbs

cyber realizować

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APPENDIX 4: FORMATIONS WITH E-

e- + common nouns

e-adwokat, e-akademia, e-archiwum, e-aukcja, e-autor, e-bank, e-banking, e-bankowość, e-biblioteka, e-bilet, e-biuletyn, e-biznes, e-biznesman, e-book, e-commerce, e-consulting, e-content, e-coś tam, e-czytanie, e-dach, e-Deklaracje, e-demokracji, e-długi, e-dokument, e-donos, e-duszpasterstwo, e-dvd, eDziecko, e-dziennik, e-edukacja, e-ekonomia, e-faktura, e-film, e-firma, e-fora, e-foto, e-gazety, e-generacja, e-giełda, e-głosowanie, e-gmina, e-golf, e-góry, e-gospodarka, e-handel, e-hazardu, e-historia, e-horyzont, e-infoterminal, e-inicjatywa, ekartka, e-kasyno, e-katalog, e-kefirek, e-klient, E-komunikacja, e-konsumpcja, E-konto, e-kontroli, e-książka / eksiążka, e-księgarnia, e-kupa, e-kurs, e-lasy, e-learning, e-lista zakupów, e-literatura, E-LUDZIE, eLudzik, e-mail, emama/e-mama, e-mapa, e-market, e-marketing, e-materiały, e-mentor, e-monitoringu, e-nauczanie, e-nauka, e-niemiecki, e-niespodzianka, e-notatki, e-notowania, e-obelgi, e-ogród, e-opowieść, e-ordynacja, e-państwo, e-papier, e-papierosy, e-pasaż, e-petent, ePieniądze / e-pieniądze, e-pismo / epismo, ePlaneta, e-podatków, e-podpis, e-poeta, e-poradnik, e-portfel, e-powieść, e-praca, e-prawnik, e-problem, e-production, e-promocja, e-przedmiot, e-przegląd sportowy, ePrzystanek, e-przyszłość, e-rada, e-randka, e-recenzje, e-reklama, erodzice/e-rodzice, e-rower, e-rynek, e-salon wróżbitów, e-service, e-sklepach, e-ślub, e-solutions, e-społeczność, e-spółka, e-stacja, e-stróż, e-student, e-studia, e-studiowanie, e-sukces, e-superkonto, e-świat, E-Szkoła, e-szkolenia, e-szok, e-szpiegostwem, e-tatuś, e-telefon, e-telewizja, e-ticket, e-tools, e-tutor, e-uczelnia, eUrząd/E-urząd, e-wandalizm, e-włączanie, e-wnioski, e-wpływem, e-wybory, e-wydaniu, e-wydawca, e-wyobcowanie, e-zakupy, e-zaślubiny, e-zaufanie, e-zeznania, e-zin/ezin, e-zlecenia, e-złodziej, e-znajoma, e-źródła

e- + proper nouns

e-Biblia, e-Europa, e-Lech, e-Polska, e-Wielkopolska, e-Lublin, e-„Rzeczpospolita”, e-Sochaczew, eBeata / eBeatka, eDorka

e- + verbs

e-handlować, e-mailować

e- + adjectives

e-biznesowy, e-cyfrowe, e-książkowy, e-mailowy, e-polityczny, e-sportowy, e-wydawniczy

e- + adverbs

e-mailowo

e- + acronyms

e-PEFRON, e-PKO, e-sklep AGD, e-sklep RTV, e-UPR


ROBERT KUSEK (UNIWERSYTET JAGIELLOŃSKI, KRAKÓW)

TOWARDS THE BORDERLINE POETICS: ALFRED AND EMILY BY DORIS LESSING

If one were to identify a single area in contemporary literary practices, where the “borderline poetics” comes most powerfully to the fore, one would necessarily need to point to the life-writing domain. Undoubtedly, in recent years, life-writing genres have not only claimed their centrality in the academic discourse, but also managed to attract wide readership. Most importantly, however, they manifest the borderline characteristics (a free interplay of fact and fiction and the genre-bending features in particular) in a manner and to an extent that can hardly be matched by any other type of contemporary literary production. The present paper discusses a text which powerfully manifests the borderline poetics. Alfred and Emily by Doris Lessing, a 2008 narrative about the parents of the Nobel Laureate set on the outskirts of the falling British Empire, on the one hand incorporates and accommodates the two seemingly opposite orders, namely fictional and factual; on the other it resists being categorised as belonging to only one, clearly defined genre (e.g. autobiography or biography).The aim of this paper is not to decide upon the story’s unequivocal generic affiliation, but rather to observe the dynamics between factual and fictional realms – the dynamics which lies at the very heart of any life-writing practice. KEYWORDS: Doris Lessing, memoir, auto/biography, genre, borderline poetics

“Must we have lives?” (P. Fitzgerald 2000: 3) “Peut-on aimer un genre?” (G. Genette 2012: 129) “We are enjoying a golden age of biography” (D. Lessing 1995: 14)

THE LAWS OF GENRE

Jacques Derrida’s 1980 essay entitled “The Law of Genre” begins with an imperative: “Genres are not to be mixed” (202), followed by the philosopher’s own declaration: “I will not mix genres” (ibid.). However, despite its apparently unequivocal opening, the essay by no means offers an appraisal of norms, clear and impassable demarcations and generic purity. Though Derrida recognises the fact

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that a given text cannot belong to no genre1 and, thus, always contains “identifiable and codifiable traits” that allow to determine its singular or plural class-membership (211), the titular law of the genre [“a counter-law which constitutes this very law” (205)] is, in fact, “a principle of contamination, a law of impurity, a parasitical economy” (206). He states that disruptions of generic marks – those “anomalies” which he further defines as “impurity, corruption, contamination, decomposition, perversion, deformation, [...] cancerization, generous proliferation or degenerescence” (204) – point to the essential “axiom of non-closure or non-fulfilment” (212). In short, according to Derrida, generic taxonomy is both possible and impossible, while the law of genre can operate only when it opens itself to transgression. It seems to me that the fundamental difficulty to conform to the “strict, normal, normed, or normative definitions of the genre” (214) can be particularly observed in the field of life writing whose specimens2 appear to be specifically prone to risk “impurity, anomaly, or monstrosity” (204). Critical recognition of both a free interplay of fact and fiction that life narratives exercise as well as genre-bending characteristics of those texts have led to their categorisation as essentially borderland or threshold narratives and, consequently, representatives of, what I shall call, the “borderline poetics”3. As I have already signalled, the markers of the borderline poetics are primarily twofold4. First, the life writing narratives always negotiate their position between literary and artistic functions and the historic or objective demands. In other words, they occupy a threshold space between fiction and fact. Any process of creating a life, of “making [it] up”, is limited or guarded by facts, inerasable incidents from one’s life, and the “responsibility to likeness and the need for accuracy” (H. Lee 2005: 28). However, its true significance reaches well beyond the concepts of falsity or truth. In a classical, yet still amply valid Gusdorfian interpretation of life narratives, a given specimen is unquestionably a document about a life and the historian has a perfect right to check out its testimony and verify its accuracy. But it is also a work of art, and the literary devotee, for There is “no genreless text”, Derrida says (212). I.e. autobiographies, memoirs, diaries, letters, biographical novels. The appendix to Sidonie Smith’s and Julia Watson’s Reading Autobiography. A Guide for Interpreting Life Narratives offers a list of sixty genres of life writing (S. Smith and J. Watson 2001: 253-286). 3 Among the life-writing critics who have borrowed the term “borderline” from the psychology lexicon and have been consistently using it to refer to various (auto)biographical practices, one should mention Sidonie Smith and Julie Watson (S. Smith and J. Watson 2001) as well as Leigh Gilmore (L. Gilmore 1994) and Gunnthorunn Gudmundsdottir (G. Gudmundsdottir 2003). However, it appears that the credit for introducing the term to life writing studies needs to be given to Linda Hutcheon in her 1989 study titled The Politics of Postmodernism (L. Hutcheon 2002: 157). 4 A dynamics between self and other, auto- and (Coetzee’s) autre-biographical narratives (D. Attwell 1999: 394) could be noted here as another marker of the borderline poetics. According to Laura Marcus, contemporary works of self writing cannot by any means be classified as traditional autobiographies since they refuse to acknowledge and secure “the much desired unity of the subject and the object of knowledge” which characterises traditional autobiographical writing (5). 1 2


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his part, will be aware of its stylistic harmony and the beauty of its images. It is therefore of little consequence that the Mémoires d’autre-tombe should be full of errors, omissions, and lies, and of little consequence also that Chateaubriand made up most of his Voyage en Amérique; the recollection of landscapes that he never saw and the description of travelers’ moods nevertheless remain excellent. We may call it fiction or fraud, but its artistic value is real: there is a truth affirmed beyond the fraudulent itinerary and chronology, a truth of the man, images of himself and of the world, reveries of a man of genius, who, for his own enchantment and that of his readers, realizes himself in the unreal. (43)

The second marker of the borderline poetics that I should like to list here is the narratives’ already mentioned resistance to being categorised as belonging to only one, clearly defined genre5 – the phenomenon already addressed by some of the critics in the field. For example, James Olney states the following: “The finest biographies as the very condition of their being the finest biographies – always and invariably reveal clear and compelling traces (and often much more than mere traces) of autobiography” (429). Every autobiography is also an “autothanatography” (12), Nancy K. Miller says elsewhere. In her brilliant reading of genealogy of memoir entitled “Are Memoirs Autobiography?”, Julie Rak pays attention to the transgendered nature of this type of writing since – all at once – it blends private and public; its subject may be one’s self or the others; it is equally written “by the most powerful public men” and “the least known, most private women” (316); it describes “writing as process and writing as product” (317). What is more, “memoir” is inconsistent in number and gender: the term can be both singular and plural (and mean the same!6) and, most interestingly, it has been both a masculine and feminine noun7. Finally, it profoundly violates the laws of genres since it can be “a document note or a record, a record of historic events based on the writer’s personal knowledge or experience, an autobiography or a biography, an essay, or a memory kept of someone” (ibid.). As a result, it is impossible not to agree with G. Thomas Couser and his definition of the memoir as a “threshold genre” (12). Following the above-made remarks, the aim of the present paper is to discuss Doris Lessing’s Alfred and Emily – a profoundly transgeneric mélange which takes major interest in Lessing’s parents – as a manifestation of the borderline nature of One should note a peculiar paradox between an almost unanimous appreciation of genderbending characteristics of life narratives and, simultaneously, an insistence on coining new generic categories and desire for classification among life writing scholars. For example, in recent years, a venerable genre of autobiography has been substituted by, among others, autobiographics (Leigh Gilmore), autofiction (Serge Doubrovsky), autoportrait (Michel Beaujour), autothanatography (Nancy K. Miller), autopathography (G.Thomas Couser), biomythography (Audre Lorde), heterobiography (Philippe Lejeune), otobiography (Jacques Derrida), or periautography (James Olney). 6 Not everyone agrees on identical meaning of memoir and memoirs. In his Memoir. A History Ben Yagoda concludes: “‘memoirs’ usually cover the full span of [someone’s] life, ‘memoir’ has been used by books that cover the entirety or some portion of it” (1). 7 Rak notes that after the centuries of fluctuations, the Middle French masculine word memoire became feminine; yet it lost its second “e” which would be a clear mark of a feminine noun in French (316). 5

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life writing. I wish to see Lessing’s volume as a re-markable text, namely the one which can be incessantly re-marked (i.e. re-labelled) regarding its generic affiliation and, consequently, can be seen as a re-markable (i.e. outstanding8) example of the borderline poetics of life writing

“DISCIPLINED BY…”

Published in 2008, Alfred and Emily was neither Doris Lessing’s first narrative in which her parents featured prominently, nor the writer’s first encounter with life writing9. She wrote about them and their lives – first critically and then, gradually, with more compassion and empathy – in both fictional and, traditionally speaking, non-fictional forms: in the novel Martha Quest of 1952, in “My Father” from the non-fictional account A Small Personal Voice of 1974, or in the first volume of her memoir entitled Under My Skin of 199410. In fact, towards the end of Chapter One of Under My Skin, Lessing defines herself as “brought up in [a family] crippled 8 Though my paper ostensibly privileges Lessing’s narrative (since, I believe, it reveals and manifests the markers of the borderline poetics and its generative capacity in the superior manner, often unattainable to other specimens), other texts could serve here as an exemplification of my claim. For example, Scenes from Early Life (2012) by the British novelist Philip Hensher is a particularly interesting (and quizzical) manifestation of the two phenomena that I have identified as essential for the borderline poetics. Though subtitled “a novel”, the book is in fact an autobiography of Zaved Mahmood, Hensher’s husband. However, from the narratological point of view Scenes from Early Life can by no means be categorised as an autobiography since the narrative violates the fundamental rule of the genre formulated by Lejeune, i.e. the equation author = narrator = character. “Author’s [sic!] note” declares: “Scenes from Early Life is the story of one upper-middle class Bengali family, a novel which is told in the form of a memoir. The narrator speaks in the voice of Zaved Mahmood, the author’s husband, who was born in late 1970s shortly before the outbreak of the war of independence” (309). Equally to its generic status, the question of the book’s ontological premises should be met with considerable puzzlement. Is it predominantly a work of fiction (both a subtitle and a commentary in the acknowledgments part seem to suggest so)? Or, does the book largely inhabit the relatively safe domain of facts and historical accuracy guaranteed by its character’s unquestionable referentiality and, consequently, should be approached as a work of non-fiction? Of course, it is impossible to provide the above-posed questions with definitive answers (which could actually be read as another marker of the narrative’s borderline quality). 9 Over the years Lessing experimented with a variety of life writing forms: an autobiography (Under the Skin of 1994 and Walking in the Shade of 1997), a travelogue (African Laughter of 1992), or a pet memoir (On Cats of 2002). She has also theorised on the genre of autobiography, most explicitly in Chapter Two of Under the Skin, where she talks about distrust of history (“I read history with conditional respect” [11]), essential unresolvedness of autobiographical projects (“How do you know that what you remember is more important than what you don’t?” [12]), plurality of autobiographical selves (13), as well as creating and making up one’s past and memories (ibid.). 10 Moreover, all five volumes of the series Children of Violence as well as The Memoirs of a Survivor and The Diaries of Jane Somers include directly identifiable autobiographical facts. Lessing acknowledged her parents’ presence in works of fiction and non-fiction in an interview with Margaret J. Daymond (236).


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by war [World War I]” and “having the poison running in [her] veins from before [she] could speak” (10). She further adds: We are all of us made by war, twisted and warped by war. [...] I used to joke that it was the war that had given birth to me, as a defence when weary with the talk about the war that went on – and on – and on. But it was no joke. I used to feel there was something like a dark grey cloud, like poison gas, over my early childhood. (ibid.)

In the first volume of her memoir, Lessing trenchantly diagnoses her parents, and subsequently herself, as the victims of World War I, whose lives have been irrevocably damaged and crippled by the experience of the conflict. To the 75-yearold Lessing, Alfred and Emily are both profoundly tragic figures11. Her father, suffering from shell shock as well as pain related to an amputated leg, never fulfilled his dream of becoming an English farmer and ended his life, gravely ill and deeply unhappy, in Africa. After her fiancé drowned in a ship sunk by a torpedo, Lessing’s mother, torn between social demands and her own desires, decided to get married to a wounded soldier she had nursed in the Royal Free Hospital in East London, i.e. Alfred Tayler, and thus chose the prospect of having children (in whom she was later gravely disappointed) and forsook her career. It is the realisation of her parents’ tragic fate that appears as an impetus and a prime motive for Lessing’s writing of Alfred and Emily. One may also speculate that it was the interview conducted by Margaret J. Daymond a few years before completing the volume that might have provided Lessing with an idea for this book. Towards the end of their talk, Daymond concludes that “autobiography is disciplined by what actually happened” or “the best recovery [one] can make of it” (240). Then, she encourages Lessing to finish the following sentence: “[A]nd the characters are disciplined by...”, which, after a moment of hesitation the writer completes saying “...by what’s possible” (240). Undoubtedly, the dynamics between “what actually happened” and “what was possible”, between truth and fiction, lies at the heart of Lessing’s narrative which opens with a biographical fantasia, an alternative story of Alfred’s and Emily’s lives. In keeping with this, the “Foreword” to the volume voices Lessing’s reason unambiguously: The war, the Great War. The war that would end all war, squatted over my childhood. The trenches were as present to me as anything I actually saw around me. And here I still am, trying to get out from under that monstrous legacy, trying to get free. If I could meet Alfred Tayler and Emily McVeagh now, as I have written them, as they might have been had the Great War not happened, I hope they would approve the lives I have given them. (viii)

11 “The chapter heading for my mother in this saga would be a sad one”, Lessing poignantly states (4).

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Alfred and Emily is an extraordinary hybride, as Gérard Genette would most likely call it. Its first part, entitled “Alfred and Emily: a novella”, preceded by two photographs of Alfred Tayler and Emily McVeagh (taken separately), comprises three distinctive segments: a fictional story of Lessing’s parents followed by their faux obituaries; the “Explanation”, in which the writer provides justification for various diegetic choices she has made when writing about her parents’ “imagined” lives12; and, finally, an encyclopaedic entry devoted to describe the Royal Free Hospital in Hampstead where Emily McVeagh used to work as a nurse13. Reiterating Lessing’s observation, one could claim that the section of the novella is disciplined by “what is possible,” while the remaining parts are organised around the idea of “what happened”. Indeed, the fictional story of Alfred and Emily is an attempt to write against history – both individual and global. Delivered chronologically by the 3rd person omniscient narrator14, the story opens with the meeting of Alfred and Emily at a village cricket match in 1902 when they are introduced to one another by Mrs Lane, a mutual friend. Lessing does not change any of Alfred’s or Emily’s personal traits15 – the former is extremely enthusiastic, highly likeable, (“his smile was certainly enough to win the heart of anybody” [7]), compassionate and hardworking; while the latter is clever, energetic and independent, a rebellious spirit who was cut off from her father’s approval when she decided to become a nurse, instead of going to the university. At the beginning of the second decade of the 20th century “Emily and Alfred were at the top of their lives, their fortunes – of everything” (24), the narrator of the novella states. But this phrase is immediately followed by an autobiographical intrusion of Doris Lessing (one of many) which disturbs the coherence and “purity” of the fictional narrative: “‘If only we could live our good years all over again’, my mother would say, fiercely gathering those years into her arms and holding them safe, her eyes challenging her husband as if he were responsible for the end” (ibid.). Lessing’s narrative does not only allow her parents to re-live their good years, but also makes it possible for them to survive. In this invented account, World War I does not break out16 and, consequently, Alfred remains at home, gets 12 “Writing about my father’s imagined life, my mother’s, I have relied not only on traits of character that may be extrapolated, but on tones of voice, sighs, wistful looks, signs as slight as those used by skilful trackers” (139). The “Explanation” part provides the readers with some clarification as to the origin of individual episodes (e.g. life in London), the main characters (e.g. Daisy, Bert and Betsy) and the key choices made by the two protagonists (e.g. Emily’s decision not to re-marry). 13 This section is also preceded by two photographs of her father in army uniform. 14 One should add that Lessing is not consistent in internal divisions of her novella, i.e. length and marking the individual chapters (e.g. “1902”, “August 1907”, “The Best Years”). 15 Apparently in line with her belief that “you can’t change your behaviour no matter how much you want to; your own behaviour is there, with you, engraved in stone, unfortunately” (M. Daymond 2006: 240). 16 In this way Alfred and Emily can be read as welcoming another genre, historical fantasy, in a similar way to some contemporary fictional works such as Philip Roth’s The Plot Against America. According to the narrator of the novella, in the 1920s, “Britain was wealthy, was booming, was at


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married to a local girl with whom he has two boys and becomes a successful farmer; Emily, on the other hand, marries Dr William Martin-White, a cardiologist from the hospital where she works, who dies in 1924 of a heart attack, not in the sea during the Great War as happened in real life. Lessing cunningly combines real-life events with fantasy. For instance, when, in 1916, Emily announces her engagement to Martin-White, Alfred attends the party on crutches as his appendix burst out a few weeks before. “In life”, Lessing explains, “my father’s appendix burst just before the battle of the Somme, saving him from being killed with the rest of his company” (31). For Lessing, providing Alfred with his “dream life” proves to be much easier than accomplishing the same with Emily, who “lived her entire life bounded by rules, regulations and discipline” (54). Forced by Martin-White to give up her career and, instead, turned into a perfect hostess, unhappy and childless woman, Emily finds her true liberation only when her husband dies. “I shall not be throwing myself on to a funeral pyre”, she declares (62); instead, using her late husband’s resources she establishes an organisation (the “Martin-White Foundation”), which runs schools for the poor and offers new methods of teaching kids based on storytelling. She even falls in love with a Scottish storyteller, one Alistair McTaggart. She becomes a free and independent woman, a truly Lessing-esque figure. Finally, the last offices delivered by Lessing to her parents are to allow them to “die in [personal] character” (J. Barnes 2009: 177). Since World War I has not destroyed his body and spirit, Alfred can die as a very old man – at his farm and surrounded by his big family, one could further speculate. Emily dies of a heart attack as an activist after she has remonstrated some boys for tormenting a dog. “Hundreds of people came to her funeral”, Lessing concludes, giving her famous fictional mother the funeral that the real one could not have in Africa. The second part of the volume, entitled “Alfred and Emily; Two Lives”, as opposed to the previous section, is almost exclusively governed by “what happened”. Though composed of a plethora of distinctive narrative forms, the story of Lessing’s mother and father unmistakably remains the narrative’s major thematic dominant. Like Part One, it is predominantly a filial narrative17, a (real) memoir of parents by their daughter (G. Couser 2012: 154). The section opens with a photograph of

a level of prosperity the leader writers and public figures congratulated themselves and everybody on. Britain had not had a war since the Boer War; nor were there wars in Western Europe, which was on a high level of well-being. It was enough only to contrast the dreadful situation of the old Austrian Empire and the Turkish Empire, in collapse, to know that keeping out of war was a recipe for prosperity” (83-84). Interestingly, and paradoxically in light of Alfred’s real experience of war, the social and political tensions of the 1930s forced Alfred to conclude: “This is a silly, petty, pettifogging little country, and we’re so pleased with ourselves because we’ve kept out of a war. But if you ask me I think a war would do us all the good in the world. We’re soft and rotten, like a pear that’s gone past its best” (132). 17 The story could be further divided into patriographical and matriographical episodes.

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Alfred and Emily18 and a short biographical essay19 in which Lessing once again ponders over the “monstrous legacy” of World War I and the effect it had on her parents’ lives. Alfred, once a “vigorous and healthy man” (152), was – both physically20 and mentally21 – invalidated by the war and died a broken man, defeated by illness and the traumatic memories of the Trenches. For example, Lessing recalls that “at the breakfast table he might say to my mother, ‘I was dreaming of Tommy again’, or Johnny or Bob” (154). Although she had no “visible scars”, Emily was “as much a victim of the war as [Lessing’s] father” (172). The writer, who throughout her life fought “titanic battles” with her mother (183), realises that Emily – cut off from her family, forced to live on an African farm and to play the role of a wife and mother which she found in no way satisfying22 – was turned into a deeply unhappy figure and concludes: Nothing that she ever told, or was said about her, or one could deduce of her in that amazing girlhood, so busy, so full of achievement, or of her nursing years, about which we had the best of witnesses, my father himself, or the years in Persia, so enjoyable and so social, nothing, anywhere, in all this matches up with what my mother became. Nothing fits, as if she were not one woman but several. (156)

However, quite unexpectedly, half way through the piece, the narrative shifts its interest and what was a memoir of the others now becomes a memoir of self, in which Lessing starts recalling her childhood: her Irish au pair girl (Biddy O’Hallowan), her self-education, the books she used to read23, among other events of her life. This instability and transitivity of the object of knowledge is a characteristic feature of this as well as nine subsequent sections24 of “Alfred and Emily; Two Lives”, What can be seen as a special form of paratext, the photograph shows Alfred and Emily together, not separate as in the images which preceded the novella, which clearly implies biographical veracity of the section. 19 “One may write a life in five volumes, or in a sentence”, Lessing states (152), clearly showing preference for the former. 20 His artificial leg may be seen as a symbol of “artificiality” of his “real” life – as opposed to the “imagined” life he might have lived if the war had not broken out. 21 Lessing diagnoses her father as suffering from shell shock and post-traumatic stress disorder (153-154, 170). 22 In Under My Skin one can read: “There is no need to look for memories of ‘abuse’, cruelty and the rest. I remember very well – though how old I was I do not know – leaning against my father’s knee, the real one, not the metal-and-wood knee, while my mother chatted on and on in her social voice to some visitor about her children, how they brought her low and sapped her, how all her talents were withering unused, how the little girl in particular (she was so difficult, so naughty!) made her life a total misery. And I was a cold flame of hatred for her, I could have killed her there and then. [...] What a mistake she has made in having them [kids] at all” (29-30). 23 Like a diligent historian, Lessing provides a reader with a full list of titles she read as a child (166-169). 24 They are entitled “A Women’s Group”, “Sister McVeagh”, “Insects”, “The Old Mawonga Tree”, “Provisions”, “Provisions – in Town”, “My Brother Harry Tayler”, “Getting-off-the-Farm”, and “Servant Problems”. 18


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which – all highly episodic, inconsistent and disjointed – address (in order of appearance) the following issues: motherhood and women rights in the 20th century, young Doris’s pet calf called Demi, African insects, her parents’ house and farm, post-colonial Africa and current politics (Robert Mugabe), history, Edwardian food, Lessing’s brother Harry and her relationship with him, life in Africa during World War II. A similar mélange can be observed as far as the pieces’ generic affiliation is concerned: biography is intertwined with autobiography, filial narrative with bildungsmemoir, travelogue with autotopography25, socio-historical observations with pure fiction26. Similarly to Part One, “Alfred and Emily; Two Lives” ends with two deaths. Firstly, that of Lessing’s father, whose obsession with World War I and his fellow soldiers grew stronger towards the end of his life; as may be observed when he says: “I think of them, yes, I do, there’s never a day I don’t think of them, oh, such fine young chaps...”, he says, when close to his deathbed, and adds: “If the shrapnel hadn’t got me I would have died with them, and sometimes I wonder if it wouldn’t have been better if I had” (259). However, one learns very little about her mother’s demise. In its place the final pages of the volume offer a scene of Emily hosting a group of RAF soldiers. One sentence particularly resonates with the memoirist: “‘She’s a good sort,’ said the RAF lads. ‘She’s a real sport, your mother’” (272). Accordingly, the volume can be ultimately seen as the writer’s instrument for coming to terms with her mother’s legacy, a therapeutic act of otherand self-repair, an attempt to understand Emily and, one could speculate, forgive her. The final sentence, which offers a subtle hint of reconciliation27, reads as follows: The RAF did at last get home, and they wrote letters, we wrote letters, and my mother sold the house, when my brother married, and for the short years before she died, at seventythree28, she spent her afternoons and evenings playing bridge with other widows. She was, they all said, a very good bridge player. (274)

25 For example the photographs included in the volume, as well as pieces of the narrative concerned with the memories of physical objects (house, furniture, clothes). 26 “Provisions – in Town” is a study of African cuisine as well as the relationship between masters and servants delivered in the form of a fictional story (by the 3rd person present-tense narrator) whose coherence is nevertheless disturbed by a single autobiographical paragraph (in the past tense) which reads: “I returned to Southern Rhodesia less than ten years after I left it and I was immediately surprised by the amount of meat. Every fridge was stacked with it, including the vegetable trays. ‘We couldn’t have eaten all that meat’, I cried. ‘Impossible!’ But we did” (243). 27 I would like to pay attention to the striking similarity between the ending of Alfred and Emily and the final pages of Alice Munro’s “Dear Life” (i.e. the last of four autobiographical “stories” from the 2012 collection also called Dear Life), which is, unmistakably, the latter’s attempt to come to terms with her deceased mother, her difficult legacy and their invidious relationship. Interestingly, both attempts came at the very end of Lessing’s and Munro’s literary career. 28 The age of death of fictional and historical Emily is the same.

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POSITIVE EXCEPTIONALITY

Gérard Genette’s “Des genres et des oeuvres” opens with the story of a sultan who has stopped visiting his fifty concubines and who, when inquired by his distressed lovers about the reasons for his sudden frigidity, confesses: “Hélas, [...] j’aime un autre harem”29 (129). However, the celebrated French structuralist does not summon this anecdote in order to investigate sultan’s erotic life, but to pose a question about the condition for an aesthetic relation one might have with a class of texts, with a genre; and so he asks: “peut-on aimer un genre?”30 (ibid.). Having agreed on essential “impurity” of any genre (“Rien n’est tout à fait singulier, rien n’est absolument générique”31 [150]), Genette concludes that “le monstreaux pourrait éventuellement procure un ‘plaisir’”32 (156-157). A first step to appreciate “mélange” or “hybride” (209) is what Genette calls “la conscience génerique”33 (161), i.e. knowledge of the genre and its laws, which, subsequently, guarantees a recognition of “l’exceptionalité positive,” namely “en tout cas un mérite en soi, qui permet à une oeuvre d’être, dans sa catégorie, non pas la meilleure ni la première, mais bien la seule élue, ce qui certainement vaux mieux que toute autre elections”34 (244). Doris Lessing’s Alfred and Emily is neither the best, nor the first borderline text, but “re-markability” of this narrative – a story which occupies a threshold space between fact and fiction and incessantly negotiates its generic status – is, I am convinced of the fact, truly and singularly exceptional.

REFERENCES ATTWELL, D. (ed.) (1999): J. M. Coetzee. Doubling the Point. Essays and Interviews, London. BARNES, J. (2009): Nothing to Be Frightened of, London. COUSER, G.T. (2012): Memoir: An Introduction, Oxford. DAYMOND, M.J. (2006): “Writing Autobiography and Writing Fiction. Doris Lessing interviewed by M.J. Daymond”, in: COULLIE, J.L./ MEYER, S./ NGWENYA, T.H./ OLVER, T. (eds.): Selves in Question. Interviews on Southern African Auto/Biography, Honolulu, 231-242. DERRIDA, J. (1980): “The Law of Genre”, trans. A. Ronell, Glyph 7, 202-229. FITZGERALD, P. (2000): The Knox Brothers, Washington D.C. GENETTE, G. (2012): Des genres et des oeuvres, Paris. “Alas, […] I love another harem”. Own translation. “Can one love a genre?” 31 “Nothing is quite singular, nothing is absolutely generic”. 32 “The monster could eventually provide a ‘pleasure’”. 33 “Generic consciousness”. 34 “Positive exceptionality […] in any case a merit in itself, which allows a given work to be in its own category, neither the best nor the first, but the only choice, the one which is certainly worth more than any other choices”. 29 30


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GILMORE, L. (1994): Autobiographics. A Feminist Theory of Women’s Self-Representation, Ithaca, NY. GUDMUNDSDOTTIR, G. (2003): Borderlines. Autobiography and Fiction in Postmodern Life Writing, Amsterdam, New York, NY. GUSDORF, G. (1980): “Conditions and Limits of Autobiography”, in: OLNEY, J. (ed.): Autobiography. Essays Theoretical and Critical, Princeton, NJ, 28-48. HENSHER, P. (2012): Scenes from Early Life. A novel, London. LEE, H. (2005): Body Parts. Essays on Life-writing, London. LESSING, D. (1995): Under My Skin. Volume One of My Autobiography to 1949, New York. LESSING, D. (2008): Alfred and Emily. New York. MARCUS, L. (1994): Auto/biographical Discourses. Theory, criticism, practice, Manchester and New York. MILLER, N.K. (1994): “Representing Others: Gender and Subjects of Autobiography”, Differences: A Journal of Feminist Cultural Studies 6(1), 1-25. OLNEY, J. (1986): “(Auto)biography”, Southern Review 22, 428-441. RAK, J. (2004): “Are Memoirs Autobiography? A Consideration of Genre and Public Identity”, Genre 36. 305-326. SMITH, S./ WATSON, J. (2001): Reading Autobiography. A Guide for Interpreting Life Narratives, Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. YAGODA, B. (2009): Memoir. A History, New York: Riverhead Books.


ANNA PIETRZYKOWSKA-MOTYKA (UNIWERSYTET PEDAGOGICZNY, KRAKÓW)

APPROPRIATIONS OF SHAKESPEARE’S KING LEAR IN MODERN BRITISH DRAMA: EDWARD BOND’S LEAR (1971) AND HOWARD BARKER’S SEVEN LEARS (1989)

The following article is an attempt at looking at the modern appropriations of Shakespeare’s King Lear’s story in two British plays: Edward Bond’s Lear (1971) and Howard Barker’s Seven Lears (1989). Both dates signify the first stage premieres of the plays in question: Bond’s play was first opened at the Royal Court Theatre, London and Barker’s play was opened October at Sheffield Crucible. Both plays explicitly relate to King Lear’s story by their titles and both are recognized as the best-known and most powerful dramatic reworkings of the Lear story. Although both playwrights place themselves within two disparate theatrical traditions: Rational Theatre (Bond) and The Theatre of Cruelty (Barker), they are noted for their political allusions. Yet the primary concern of the following article will be to see to what extent is the “myth” of Lear modified in two modern versions. To achieve this effect the author of the article will closely look at the spatial arrangement, time scheme, plot development, story line, character presentation and values, as well as some major themes. Also Lear as the main character will be shown in its various roles and relations: as a loving father, a king, a leader, a madman and a tragic figure. KEYWORDS: appropriation, Lear, violence, cruelty, insight, Rational Theatre, Theatre of Cruelty

1. LITERARY ADAPTATION APPROPRIATION

To start with the defining terms, Julie Sanders (2006) introduces an important distinction between the loosely used terms: adaptation and appropriation. Although both modes of reworking texts are similar in the adaptive process “appropriation frequently affects a more decisive journey away from the informing source into a wholly new cultural product and domain” (Sanders 2006: 26). The notions of adaptation and appropriation are encompassed by a broader practice of intertextuality. Intertextuality proves that texts refer back to the other texts and rework them. According to Hawthorne (2000: 182), intertextuality means “a relation between two or more texts which has an effect upon the way in which the intertext is read.” The intertext is, in turn, the text within which other texts reside or echo their presence (ibid.). Most researches in intertextuality start with the study of Julia Kristeva (1980), who first introduced this critical term, which later has been widely

APPROPRIATIONS OF SHAKESPEARE’S KING LEAR IN MODERN BRITISH DRAMA…

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applied, defined and redefined, and, as a result, intertextuality has taken on various forms. Among them figure the two terms, adaptation and appropriation, which both evoke the original text (the sourcetext), however in the case of appropriation, the relation between the appropriated text and its source text is not so clearly signaled as in the process of adaptation (Sanders 2006: 26ff). Shakespearean appropriations have been made with reference to many of his plays, adapting them for the stage or the screen, or by involving them in a generic shift (e.g. from drama to the novel). Moreover, the Shakesperean canon has been subject to all possible alterations – “as long as there have been plays by Shakespeare, there have been adaptations of those plays” (Fischlin/ Fortier, as quoted in Sanders 2006: 46). It is all too evident that the two modern British playwrights, although representing two different approaches to theatrical art, have a lot in common. Both are playwrights, directors and active adaptors of literature; for example Bond has seen through the production of seventeen original plays and has produced highly acclaimed adaptations and translations of The Cherry Orchard, A Chaste Maid of Cheapside, or The White Devil. His plays refer back to myths (e.g. the Trojan war is referred back in The Woman, 1978), or the classic canonical texts like Lear (1971). Similarly, Howard Barker is both a playwright and director – The Wrestling School Theatre Company was formed to stage Barker’s plays. Between 1988 and June 2005 The Wrestling School has produced 24 plays written by Barker. Of these 24 productions, three have seen Barker entering the territory of appropriating classic texts: Shakespeare’s Hamlet (1604), King Lear (1606) and Chekhov’s Uncle Vanya (1899) (Gritzner/ Rabey 2006: 40). Apart from that Women Beware Women (1986) is Barker’s reworking of a Jacobean tragedy by Thomas Middleton. Let us not forget that Shakespeare himself was “an active adaptor and imitator, an appropriator of myth, fairy tale and folklore, as well as of the works of specific writers as varied as Ovid, Plutarch and Holinshed” (Sanders 2006: 46). Most of Shakespeare’s characters or storylines were borrowed from other sources. King Lear, for example, borrows from the old Leir play, an old play of unknown authorship, which flourished at the court in the early 1590s. However Shakespearean version differs from the original source by primarily the tragic ending (Bate/ Rasmussen 2007: 2007). There are basically two types of literary adaptation/appropriation: parallel plot adaptation and prequel/sequel plot adaptation. The first of these can be exemplified by Bond’s play, the latter with Barker’s play. What is even most intriguing is that Barker’s play interacts with Bond’s play so that “adaptation and appropriation also create their own intertexts” (Sanders 2006: 24) by performing in dialogue with other adaptations, as well as their informing source (ibid.). Although the aim of the present article is to focus entirely on a relationship of the two plays to their main source, it has been recorded that Bond’s and Barker’s appropriations create their own intertexts as well.

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It is interesting to note that most adaptations may arise from some dissatisfaction with the original source (the hypotext). Jane Smiley, an American novelist, explains why the story of Shakespeare’s Lear served for her as the background for her novel A Thousand Acres (1991). She says that her acceptance of the tragedy was pro-forma and she did not like either Lear or Cordelia. She says: Beginning with my first readings of the play in high school and continuing through college and graduate school, I had been cool to both Cordelia and Lear. (…) he struck me as the sort of the person, from beginning to end, that you would want to stay away from – selfish, demanding, humourless, self-pitying … (…) I didn’t like Cordelia either. She seemed ungenerous and cold, a stickler for truth at the beginning, a stickler for form at the end. (Smiley, as quoted in Cakebread 1999: 85)

In a similar way, Edward Bond expresses his reasons for rewriting King Lear: “the social moral of Shakespere’s Lear is this: endure till in time the world will be made right. That’s a dangerous moral for us. We have less time than Shakespeare.” (Bond, as quoted in Patterson 2003: 140). And further on, the playwright states that: “as a society we use the play in wrong way. And it’s for that reason that I would like to rewrite it so that we now have to use the play for ourselves, for our society, for our time, for our problems” (3-4). Bond’s Lear was first performed at the Royal Court Theatre in September 1971 (Free 1996: 83) and the critics’ reviews of the play were more positive than those greeting Bond’s earlier plays. Bond’s play is “both a commentary upon and an extension of Shakespeare’s,” “a forthright transformation of King Lear into contemporary terms” (Halio 1992: 57-58). Both plays share similarities and differences between them. For example, “Lear’s descent into madness and his agonizing growth in self-knowledge remain the central focus” (57). Lear’s only daughters are his two elder daughters, and the Fool’s place is taken by the Gravedigger’s Boy. Bond has rewritten Shakespeare’s play since he had the feeling that the play had one major flaw: the preaching of resignation (Patterson 2003: 140). However, the most obvious thing about Bond’s play is that he treats the original in a loose way, allowing himself for more freedoms so that “his version has little to do with the original” (4), and, accordingly, Bond creates an almost entirely new situation out of the elements of the original, but his Lear is anti-Lear (ibid.).

2. EXTREMITY OF VIOLENCE: SHAKESPEARE’S KING LEAR AND BARKER’S SEVEN LEARS

The following discussion of the two appropriations of Lear’s story will begin with one element shared between them; namely the extremity of on-stage violence. To reiterate a familiar fact about Shakespeare’s King Lear, it is definitely the one of Shakespeare’s canon with the most horrible depiction of evil and display of


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human cruelty and atrocities. “We feel throughout the play that evil is abnormal; a curse which brings down destruction upon itself; that it is without any long career …”) (Dowden, as quoted in Bonheim 1960: 36).1 It is at this point that Shakespeare, Bond and Barker converge. Bond explains his interest in violence in the following way: I write about violence as naturally as Jane Austen wrote about manners. Violence shapes and obsesses our society, and if we do not stop being violent we have no future. People who do not want writers to write about violence want to stop them writing about us and our time. It would be immoral not to write about violence. (The Author’s Preface, 1976: v).

The playwright’s preoccupation with the theme of violence, and in a broader context, society and its problems has been recorded in his many prefaces, interviews, essays and letters (Patterson 2003: 138). Bond theorizes on the reasons and motives for violence by saying that aggression is innate in us, human beings, and this occurs when “we are constantly deprived of our physical and emotional needs, or when we are threatened with this” (Bond 1976: vi). Bond’s diagnosis of the modern society is further expressed in the following words: “Violence is like pain, not a normal condition but a sign that something is wrong” (Bond, as quoted in Paterson 2003: 138). The playwright’s ideology, called “Rational Theatre,” could also perfectly explain the tragedy of King Lear in Shakespeare’s version of the story. Violence in Shakespeare’s play stems from the fact that Lear shattered the natural order of things by dividing the kingdom and disinheriting the youngest daughter, Cordelia in a fit of rage. When it comes to Bond’s play, “although we are again shocked by the violence, our sense of shock is not due to the enormity of violence, but to the casualness with which it is perpetrated” (Jürgen-Diller 1995: 67). As Paterson notes; “his shocking images of violence have lent Bond a certain notoriety and set him apart from his contemporaries (2003: 8).” And further on, what is quite unique is the relationship of the perpetrators to the act of violence, not the brutal act itself. They treat it as something casual, with emotional detachment and accompanied by baby-talk. In one of numerous passages in the play in which violence is all too evident, Bodice (Lear’s daughter) knits while her sister tortures Warrington, and finally makes use of her knits to poke into his ears: Bodice: “I’ll just jog these in and out a little. Doodee, doodee, doodee, doo.” (Bond 1976: 15).2

Fontanelle (Lear’s other daughter), who has previously had Warrington’s tongue cut out so that he could not reveal her letters to him, is also cruel: Fontanelle: 1 E. Dowden, Shakespeare: A Critical Study of His Mind and Art [1875]. New York: Harper & Brothers, 1881, as quoted in Bohnheim 36. 2 All quotations from Bond’s play are taken from the following edition: Edward Bond. Lear. London: Eyre Methuen Ltd, 1976.

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“O let me sit on his lungs” (15). The disturbing detachment of the torturers reflects Bond’s vision of modern society (Patterson 2003: 146). Howard Barker (1946 -) is also noted for the cruelty and arresting images on stage. As Bradley states, “some noted affinities are the following: cruelty, language, extremity; Barker’s inclinations are similar to Bond’s; their strategy is to involve the audience by the usage of arresting images” (2010: 155). In a similar vein, Edgar notes the similarities: “instead of distancing the audience from the occurrences, these writers involve the audience, provoking them into thought by the very surprise and shock of the images.” (as quoted in Bradley 156). Violent acts or scenes in Barker’s play include the following: a) Clarissa’s murder of her mother (Fifth Lear) b) The death of a soldier (Third Lear): “The terrible soldier enters, dying, enters, falls. Lear turns to the body. Oh, awful face, how fate has made a fool of you.” (Barker 1990: 20)3 c) Clarissa’s giving birth to her child which appears to be a dead cat (Barker 23) d) Lear drowning his newly-born daughter, Cordelia in a barrel of gin (Barker 44). The images are arresting as well, for example when Lear in the Third Lear recalls the deaths of soldiers: “Eyes hopped! Eyes wriggled! Bang! And out came eyes!” (Barker 14). This image refers back to Shakespeare’s original: the blinding of Gloucester in III. 7 and to Bond’s play: the blinding of Lear and the torture of Warrington.

3. BOND’S LEAR AND SHAKESPEARE’S KING LEAR

Although Bond’s Lear (1971) bears many affinities with the original play, it also differs from it in many aspects. According to Patterson, Bond’s Lear is successful mainly for the reason that “his version has little to do with the original” (2003: 4). The plot summary of Bond’s play, however, shows both similarities and differences from the original. Patterson summarizes the play thus: Lear is a tyrannical king of England and has built a huge wall to keep out his enemies. His daughters, Bodice and Fontanelle, grow weary of his despotism and lead armies against him. Lear, now mad, seeks refuge with a gravedigger’s boy. Soldiers arrive, kill the boy and rape his wife, who is called Cordelia. Cordelia leads the fight against Bodice and Fontanelle, proving herself to be as ruthless as her opponents. Lear is captured and blinded, but gains in wisdom. He rejects the temptations offered by the ghost of the gravedigger’s boy to live his life in peaceful isolation. Instead, he returns to the Wall, makes a brave gesture by beginning to dismantle it and is shot (2003: 4).

3 All quotations from Barker’s play are taken from the following edition: Howard Barker. Seven Lears. Golgo. London: John Calder; New York: Riverrun Press, 1990.


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A brief glance at the above plot summary shows that some of the characters are preserved in Bond’s play (e.g. Lear, his daughters), but they are placed in entirely new situations and new contexts. Let me briefly summarize the differences that are also broadly discussed by Patterson (2003). Lear, unlike Shakespearean protagonist, does not wish to abdicate, or resign from his position: It is Warrington’s suggestion that the king is old: “We’re old, sir. We could retire and let these young men choose what to do with their own lives.” (Bond 8). Another parallel with Shakespearean Lear is the character of Warrington, who is to betray Lear and become the head of the army, at the same time sharing the bed with both daughters of Lear. In Shakespearean Lear this part was played by Edmund, the bastard son of Gloucester, who shared the conspiracy with Goneril and Regan against Lear (Edmund: “To both these sisters have I sworn my love” – V.1. 40). Fontanelle and Bodice in Bond’s play are Lear’s evil daughters and he curses them most severely. In a similar way, in the antecedent play Lear cursed his two evil daughters: Goneril and Regan. Lear: I knew you were malicious! (…) You talk of marriage? You have murdered your family. There will be no more children. Your husbands are impotent. (…) You have perverted lusts. (Bond 7) Lear (Shakespeare): “No, you unnatural hags, I will have such revenges on you both/ That all the world shall – I will do such things – What they are, yet I know not, but they shall be/ The terrors of the earth! (II.4. 270)4

Lear, in both texts is ashamed of his tears: “I am ashamed of my tears” (Bond), and in Shakespeare: “You think I’ll weep; No, I’ll not weep,” (II.4. 275). In the same way, in the original text, Lear utters the most crucial words of the play signifying what it means to be a king: “Ay, every inch a king.” (IV.5. 103). This speech of Lear evolves into a prose passage in Bond’s play, but the affinities are striking: I gave my life to these people. I’ve seen armies on their hands and knees in blood, insane women feeding dead children at their empty breasts, dying men spitting blood at me with their last breath, our brave young men in tears – , But I could bear all this! (Bond 7)

Shakespeare’s Lear: (he thinks he is everything): “When I do stare, see how the subject quakes” (IV.5. 104). However, as Patterson argues (2003) – the dropping of ‘King’ in the title implies that Bond is not at all interested in the royal nature of kingship in the play. Moreover, from the very beginning of the play, he is helpless: his daughters scheme against him by marrying Lear’s spies: The Duke of North and The Duke 4 All quotations from Shakespeare’s King Lear are taken from this edition of the play: William Shakespeare. The Tragedy of King Lear. Edited by Jay L. Halio. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992.

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of Cornwall and Lear’s visit at the construction site of the wall ends with the hint at his madness: Bodice: “There, it’s happened. Well, the doctors warned us, of course. (Loudly) My father isn’t well”. (Bond 6) At the same time Lear’s issuing of his “royal” order to shoot the Third Worker becomes unfulfilled and prevented by Bodice from being carried out. Lear: Shoot him. Bodice: No! Lear: This is not possible! I must be obeyed! Warrington: Sir, this is out of hand. Nothing’s gained by being firm in little matters. Keep him under arrest. The Privy Council will meet. There are more important matters to discuss. Lear: My orders are not little matters! (…) Bodice: If the king will not act reasonably it’s your legal duty to disobey him. (Bond 6)

The scene echoes the first act of King Lear when Lear’s power is first undermined by Kent and later by his daughter, Cordelia, who refuses to flatter the king/ father and gravely disappoints him by that. Lear’s first outburst of madness, signalled so early in Bond’s play (6), shows his obsession and preoccupation with the themes of justice, ingratitude, tyranny, judgement, death, the idea of being a king and what it entails. But from the very start he is helpless and cannot execute his power. He commanded the workers to work on the wall, but they are slow. The farmers destroy the work by digging up the wall at night. It is Lear’s utopia that the Wall will secure his rule and the rule of his daughters. Eventually, Lear shoots the Third Worker himself (towards the end of Scene One). (“He shoots Third Worker and his body slumps forwards on the post in a low bow”) (Bond 7). Nobody executes his orders although he is king himself. Similarly to Shakespearean protagonist, Lear is blind and gains insight in the course of the play. As Bond (1976) explains in the Preface: “Lear is blind till they take his eyes away, and by then he has begun to see, to understand. (Blindness is a dramatic metaphor for insight, that is why Glocester, Oedipus and Tiresias are blind.)” (xiii). Certainly, a totally new element that appears in Bond’s play and remains in the focus of the play’s action is the Wall – a central symbol of rule and safety, but for the common people, forced to work on the Wall, it is a symbol of oppression. Boy: The king was mad. He took all the men from this village. But I hid. They’d worked with their hands all their lives but when they started on the wall their hands bled for a week.” (25). (…) ‘Wall death’. Their feet used to swell with the mud. The stink of it even when you were asleep!

The wall offers a potent central image, even though it is physically present in the last scene of the play, when Lear comes to demolish the wall which he himself ordained to be built. The most obvious parallel here is to a politically overt context


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of nuclear armaments which were stockpiled by western and eastern nations to keep the enemies out. Bond wrote Passion, a piece for the Campaign of Nuclear Disarmament when he was in the middle of his work on Lear. So the wall “comes to represent the perverse logic of the oppressive regime that considers that it must defend its ‘stability’ and ‘freedom’ by sacrificing both to the policy of national defence” (Patterson 2003: 148). Ultimately, Bond’s Lear has to choose between retreat/ withdrawal into himself and being an activist – he chooses the latter option. He refuses to make a retreat and become a hippy. Instead, he dies on the Wall, shot by the Farmer’s son: “Lear is killed instantly and falls down the wall” (Bond 88). Shakespeare’s King Lear also dies at the end, endeavouring to save his daughter, Cordelia, from imminent death, however he arrives too late to save her. Both characters end tragically, failing in their power as kings and fathers: in Bond’s play the focus is more on Lear’s failure as king/ ruler on the site of the wall where he tries to dismantle it, but is ineffective. Even “the tool’s got no edge. No one cares for it” (Bond 87). One can recall at this point a familiar scene from King Lear on the heath when mad Lear evokes the storm (III. 3). Here Lear climbs the wall and notices: “It’s built to last. So steep and my breath’s short. (He reaches the top.) The wind’s cold, I must be quick. (He digs the shovel in.) Work soon warms you up. (87) Lear in this scene is short of breath, exhausted by physical effort and painfully admits: “I am not as fit as I was” (87). Lear in the mad scene on the heath is also old, exhausted, and mentally shattered; however he still wants to execute power by calling forth the elements of the storm. Both Lears fall at the end, but their fall happens at different stages of the plot.

3.1. SHAKESPEARE’S KING LEAR AND BOND’S LEAR: SPATIAL ARRANGEMENT/ TIME-SCHEME

On the level of the dramatic plot we can observe the frequent shifting of locales and spaces in the play and these are different. King Lear, in fact, is a play which is known for its multiple settings: both indoors and outdoors, capacious “geographically, generically and symbolically” (Young 1990: 7). Enlarged by multiple settings, the play expands in space and time; however curiously enough, this tragedy is “disconnected from chronicled time,” […] it has no historical past as such, “and the present is what matters in the action” (Foakes 2002: 12-13). Geographically, the play expands to comprise the whole of England, represented through a metonymic shortcut as a map of England in the opening scene; Lear’s castle where the abdication ceremony takes place, Goneril’s and Regan’s castles, Gloucester’s castle, the Poor Tom’s hovel, the desolate heath, the pastoral setting in which Gloucester and Lear meet in the great synthesis scene, the Dover cliff, the battlefield, the prison where Cordelia and Lear are detained. Some of the locales are obscurely defined as for example the place “Somewhere”, where Edgar

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transforms himself to a Mad Tom in II. 3 (“I heard myself proclaimed/ And by the happy hollow of a tree/ Escaped the hunt” (172-174)). The locales are sometimes depicted in intra-dialogic or extra-dialogic mode, however the dimensions of space in the former type are always clearly articulated: for example, the scene in which the blinded Gloucester is led by his son (IV. 6) is the one in which all proper dimensions of space are provided in intra-dialogic stage directions. Furthermore, the geography of space in the play is expanded also vertically in Lear’s frequent apostrophes to Nature, gods, deities, which evokes a schematic pattern of the world suggested by the Great Chain of Being. Frequent shifting of the locales in the play creates the effect of stretching and expansiveness. Together with Lear, Edgar disguised as a Poor Tom, Gloucester and other characters, the readers/ audience journey across the country of Lear, across space and time witnessing the national upheavals leading to the war with France at the end of the play. This journey and the distance covered are referred to in the utterances of the figures and the scope of it can be finally appreciated through dramatic imagination of the audience. While King Lear extends over several months and across Britain (the map serves here as a symbol), in Bond’s play each scene stands on its own (in the Brechtian sense). Within reasonable limits it would be possible to change the order of many scenes without destroying the narrative thrust of the play (Patterson 2003: 143). Another thing is that Bond’s Lear deliberately thwarts any attempts to place it historically by frequent use of anachronisms (there are guns, photographs, knitting, etc.); however the period setting is arbitrary. Lear reveals some vagueness about its geographical setting; however there is one location that is certain: the Wall. “Given that the wall is such a central image in the play, one might expect a certain geographical logic to reinforce its meaning” (Patterson 2003: 151). The play escapes any geographical and historical accuracy mainly for the reason that it is part of Bond’s style. Bond’s theatre is a theatre that dispenses with facts and cannot be evaluated on the grounds of authenticity. Bond’s major strength is in his being a myth maker: “Bond makes a dream world in which the reality of rifles jostles a Shakespearian myth” (Patterson 2003: 152).

4. SHAKESPEARE’S KING LEAR AND BARKER’S SEVEN LEARS (1989)

In Seven Lears (1989) Barker constructs a prequel to King Lear and starts with the remark that the figure of mother is “absent” from King Lear. In the Introduction he states that: The Mother is denied existence in King Lear. She is barely quoted even in the depths of rage and pity.


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She was therefore expunged from memory. This extinction can be only interpreted as repression. She was therefore the subject of unjust hatred. This hatred was shared by Lear and all his daughters. This hatred, while unjust, may have been necessary. (Barker’s Seven Lears 1990)

Our natural inclination after reading this introduction is that the playwright will amend the shortcomings of the informing source by introducing the Mother figure, absent from Shakespeare’s narrative. Yet nothing like that happens: the role of the mother figure is taken over by Prudentia; however she is not at the centre of attention. Her daughter, Clarissa (16 years old) is Lear’s wife and the mother of Goneril and Regan. Regan: Why is our mother’s mother here? (thinking of Prudentia) Goneril/ Regan: What is our mother’s mother doing here? (thinking of Prudentia, who is part of the scene) (Barker 36)

The affinities between the source text and its appropriation are scarce and few; yet one cannot resist the temptation to search them in the hypotext (the earlier text). For example in the Fourth Lear, Lear, the monarch says: “Kiss me all those who loved me and the rest pretend” (28). This short statement calls forth the scene of dishonest flattery at the beginning of King Lear. Or Goneril and Regan are Lear’s children yet to be born – 4th Lear (this is completely dissonant from Shakespeare’s play). However they both feel admiration for their father: “Oh, Dad, our hearts ache for you” (Barker 35). In Fifth Lear they are both grown up: Lear (to his daughters): Leave us now. You’ve grown, that’s obvious. Whether you’re beautiful, is for other men to judge, and whether you’re intelligent is insignificant, for if you are not, others will be.” (36)

Seven Lears (1989), Barker’s appropriation of Shakespearean text, is “shattered beyond hope” (Bradley 2010: 153). Barker incorporated in the text some basic features of his style – episodic narrative, the evasions and elisions of language, the occasional flashes of satire. What is new are the choric interjections, and the introduction of more formal physical geography conditioned by the text. Barker creates dissonance between the original and its adaptation – there is no possibility of reconciliation: “Barker rejects reconciliation and shuns meaning altogether” (153). Instead of a coherent narrative and story line we are offered a shattered and dissonant story line, with fragmentation and dismemberment. Barker’s appropriation of Lear’s myth is compared to evoking the story of Shakespearean Lear only to reject the story altogether. “What makes the adaptation striking, however, is not its collaboration with Shakespeare’s story, but its intentional destruction of the story” (168). Everything in the play is disintegrated: space, time,

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character, narrative and language until the original becomes unrecognizable. It is very difficult to find chronological links between the stages in Lear’s development, for example: 1) First Lear – Lear as a child who is to be raised by the Bishop. Lear’s thoughts are not yet formed, are not completed; e.g. “If people were good, punishment would be unnecessary, therefore –” (2). The Bishop personifies Education. 2) Second Lear – he is a youth entangled in love obsession with Prudentia, but he is confused and this is stated in his language: “Next meeting? No sooner has she. No sooner have we than.” (4) Later on he falls in love with Clarissa, Prudentia’s daughter (16-year old). From this affair Goneril and Regan are born and we find out about it from their words anticipating the future: Goneril/ Regan: “We are going to be born! We are going to be born! Insist on it!” (Pause) (13) Moreover, in this part of the play, Horbling appears (a Minister for ten years). He wants to play the part of Lear’s advisor (in Bond’s Lear a similar role was played by Warrington). Here the efforts of Horbling to mobilize Lear to act are in vain; he shows Lear a sheaf of papers with a plan of government for the following ten years, but Lear is disinterested. Lear’s distanciation from Horbling’s words is evident in “I think – .” (9). Further incongruities in the play arise as the plot unfolds. Whereas in the Second Lear we hear the voices of the children yet to be born, in the Third Lear, Goneril speaks of her birth: “My birth! My birth was far from easy!” (22), and in the next lines Clarissa gives birth to a child, Goneril. Clarissa: My child comes! Goneril: I was reluctant. No, that’s understatement. I was recalcitrant. Even that won’t do! I fixed my heels in her belly and stuck!” (22)

The time schemes are intertwined and shattered: the present time scheme (“my child comes”) is preceded by Goneril’s remark in the past tense: “my birth was far from easy.” As a result, we are disoriented in the time scheme and the further disorientation comes from the fact that first it is a dead cat which appears on Clarissa’s belly: Surgeon: “A dead cat on her stomach” (22), and again we hear Goneril’s voice, and her words are illogical and incoherent: “I clung – and yet – hearing my father, though – how kind his voice is …” (23). Eventually, a child comes out of Clarissa’ bosom: “(Clarissa and Prudentia deliver the child. It gives a first cry)” (23). Lear’s words at this moment are also illogical and the stream of his thoughts runs from the idea of remarriage (“Obviously I can remarry … An Asian Princess, possibly …”) to the search for self-knowledge (“What is to be done with me? I think I am evil!5”). And further on Lear notices: “Evil because … Evil accommodates every idea …” (23). His reconsiderations on the theme of 5

The bold is retained from the original text.


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evil remain unfinished and incomplete and only when Lear looks at his new-born child, he starts on a new theme: “How beautiful it is! But only beautiful because it owes its life to me … The nature of beauty, as of goodness, rests in its power to substantiate the self … Which is not goodness at all, is it? (He wanders off, thinking, still holding the child)” (23). Here. Lear appears to us as a philosopher, a thinker, a father to a new born child – he fulfills all these roles with inconsistence and lack of progression and development. In the Fourth Lear, Lear is again placed in a new context and a new role, and obsessed with a new idea: Lear: If we control the river, we shall control the lake. If we control the lake we shall control the weather. If we control the weather we shall abolish rain, for no one likes to get his head wet. Then we shall starve. No, it’s better we endure floods. (26)

This only shows the incoherence in Lear’s development as a character, his shattered thoughts, and one can hardly find any connection between Barker’s Lear and Shakespeare’s King Lear.

5. BOND’S LEAR AND BARKER’S SEVEN LEARS

As stated in section 1 of the paper, there are some noted affinities between Bond and Barker in the sense that both plays create their own intertexts. In the following examples both Lear figures present themselves as devoted father figures, fulfilling their daughters’ childlike wishes. In both cases the daughters (Fontanelle in Bond’s play and Goneril in Barker’s play) reminisce about the pleasant events in the past and a close relationship with their fathers. They are both nostalgic about the past and the little moments they shared with their fathers. The daughters display childlike eagerness to learn new things and childlike wonder at the sights they discover with their fathers. Thus both scenes create a sense of intimacy and personal affection in the world full of cruelty and atrocity. Bond Fontanelle: Father, once you found a white horse on a battlefield. You gave it to me and it broke its leg on the ice. They tied it to a tree and shot it. Poor little Fontanelle cried. Lear: Poor horse. Fontanelle: Another time I asked you how high the wall would be. You held me over your head and said you still couldn’t see over the top. Lear: I was always exact. (Bond 33) Barker Goneril: You once ran with me the length of the sea shore. I’ve never forgotten that. Lear: I loved you insanely. But in loving you insanely, I only loved myself (36).

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In contrast, intimacy is laced over with terror and death. For example, The Third Lear is a soldier who likes to kill: “Hang all the citizens! Are the prisoners dead yet? (…) I love to kill. Throat high in killing.” (Barker 13) They help him onto a tarpaulin (13) – the scene recalls Bond’s Lear from Act One, Scene 1 when the worker’s body is covered with a tarpaulin (the same stage prop is used). Also, the Third Lear is a commander, an army leader who destroys the countryside and kills the peasants. “this is only the first of my many victories.” (14) “Pity the dead, though … pity the common and the uncommon also … .” Lear shows his regret for the deaths of so many: “I saw so many eyes.” (Barker 14). Bond’s Lear is also a merciless killer who dutifully wants to exact punishment on the Third Worker: Lear. Court martial him. Fetch a firing squad. A drumhead trial for sabotage. (Bond 3) Lear (takes pistol from the Officer and threatens the firing squad). Shoot him! (Bond 6)

CONCLUSION

It seems from the above discussion that both playwrights are skillful adaptors and imitators of Shakespeare’s version of King Lear’s story. What the three playwrights have in common is definitely the ability to create unforgettable and powerful stage imagery. Although the words below concern only one of the playwrights, they can be used to include Shakespeare and Barker as well. As Patterson notes: This ability to create arresting images, through the use of compassionate characterization and minimal, poetic dialogue has made Bond one of the most important political playwrights of the second half of the twentieth century; not by the exercise of reason, but by the painstaking construction of pictures. (153)

Furthermore, both Bond’s and Barker’s intention is to show that violence is an indispensable element of a human’s life. However they lead their audience to see that through the contradictory ways of artistic expression: correct analysis (traditional) (Bond) and disintegration of formal structures (Barker). To conclude, Bond’s writing is encompassed within traditional structures: there are right and wrong actions in his plays, there is good government and bad, there is a balanced understanding of reason and imagination, there is coherent language and recognizable dramatic forms. Above all, there is correct analysis (Bradley 157). Barker’s strategy is infinitely different: he escapes structure of any kind, disintegrating narrative, character, setting and language along with larger ideologies like morality and politics (Bradley 158). Barker’s experimental plays (both in content and form) include Seven Lears (1989). His goal is to dismantle linear narratives and traditional dramatic forms and return authority to the audience (Bradley 159).


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REFERENCES BARKER, H. (1990): Seven Lears. Golgo, London/ New York. BOND, E. ([1972] 1976): Lear, London. BONHEIM, H. (ed.) (1960): The King Lear Perplex, San Francisco. BATE, J./ RASMUSSEN, E. (2007): William Shakespeare. Complete Works, Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire. BRADLEY, L. (2010): Adapting King Lear for the Stage, Ashgate Imprint. Ebook pdf. CAKEBREAD, C. (1999): “Remembering King Lear in Jane Smiley’s A Thousand Acres”, in: DESMET, CH./ SAWYER, R.: Shakespeare and Appropriation, London, 85-103. DILLER, H.-J. (1995): “Speech and Action in the Theatre of Cruelty”, in: GIBIŃSKA, M. (ed.): Verbal and Non-Verbal Codes in European Drama, Kraków, 67-81. FOAKES, R.A. ([1997] 2002): “Introduction”, in: SHAKESPEARE, W. King Lear. FOAKES, R.A. (ed.), London, 1–151. FREE, W.J. (1996): “Edward Bond”, in: DEMASTES, W.W. (ed.): British Playwrights, 1856-1995: A Research and Production Sourcebook, Westport, CT, 81-93. GRITZNER, K./ RABEY, D.I. (eds) (2006): Theatre of Catastrophe. New Essays on Howard Barker, London. HALIO, J.L. (ed.) (1992): The Tragedy of King Lear, Cambridge. HAWTHORNE, J. (2000): A Glossary of Contemporary Literary Theory, London. PATTERSON, M. (2003): “Rewriting Shakespeare: Edward Bond’s Lear (1971)”, in: Strategies of Political Theatre: Post-War British Playwrights, Cambridge, 138-154. SANDERS, J. (2006): Adaptation and Appropriation, London and New York. YOUNG, D. (1990): The Action to the Word: Structure and Style in Shakesperean Tragedy, New Haven and London.


KATARZYNA BIERNACKA-LICZNAR (UNIWERSYTET WROCŁAWSKI, WROCŁAW)

Non c’è la letteratura per bambini, c’è la letteratura, non ci sono colori per bambini, ci sono i colori, non c’è una grafica per bambini, c’è la grafica che è il linguaggio internazionale delle immagini François Ruy-Vidal

LE TRADUZIONI POLACCHE DELLA LETTERATURA ITALIANA PER L’INFANZIA NEGLI ANNI 1887-1939

The article discusses selected male and female Italian writers whose works were published in Polish between 1887 and 1939. The history of translations of distinguished authors (Collodi, De Amicis, Salgari) and selected female Italian writers is analysed. The article presents also “short” life histories of Polish translators who worked in the years 1923-1939. It was through their effort and dedication that Polish children of the inter-war period were introduced to Italian literature for young readers. KEYWORDS: translation process, Italian literature for children and young readers, Polish translators of Italian literature, Ida Baccini, Ela Steinbergowa (ELESTA)

In Europa l’interesse critico nei confronti della traduzione della letteratura per l’infanzia si è sviluppato negli ultimi quarant’anni, a partire dagli anni Settanta del ventesimo secolo. Negli anni Ottanta si evidenzia un notevole aumento delle ricerche nel campo della traduzione della letteratura per l’infanzia (Klingberg, Ørvig e Amor (ed.), 1978; Shavit, 1981). Un importante ruolo nello sviluppo del campo di ricerche sulla traduzione della letteratura per l’infanzia è svolto dall’IRSCL (International Research Society for Children’s Literature), un’organizzazione internazionale che si occupa delle ricerche nel campo della letteratura per l’infanzia. Gli sforzi intrapresi dall’IRSCL hanno portato, nel 1976, all’organizzazione del primo congresso internazionale interamente dedicato alla letteratura per l’infanzia e, in particolare, alla sua traduzione (Lathey 2006). Successivamente, nel 1978, lo studioso austriaco Richard Bamberger ha approfondito il tema della sottovalutazione della letteratura per l’infanzia rispetto

LE TRADUZIONI POLACCHE DELLA LETTERATURA ITALIANA…

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alle traduzioni per gli adulti. Secondo lo studioso tradurre opere per i bambini è più difficoltoso rispetto a tradurle per gli adulti. Il punto di vista di Bamberger è stato condiviso trent’anni dopo da Van Coillie (Van Coillie 2006). La mancanza di studi teorici sull’argomento e il riconoscimento della sottovalutazione della traduzione della letteratura per l’infanzia, ignorata da molti studiosi, da qualche anno hanno reso necessario un approfondimento del problema. Le ricerche e i contributi di Oittinen in Finlandia, O’Sullivan in Germania, Pederzoli in Italia e di Lathey in UK sono significativi ai fini della ricostruzione della storia della traduzione della letteratura per l’infanzia in generale (Garavini 2014: 117). Nel presente articolo la nostra attenzione si concentrerà sull’evoluzione storica della traduzione della letteratura italiana per l’infanzia in lingua polacca. Nel panorama letterario italiano della seconda metà dell’Ottocento si assiste all’affermarsi di uno sviluppo dinamico della letteratura italiana per l’infanzia e l’adolescenza. In quel momento storico così importante per l’Italia, due letterati italiani pubblicano due opere destinate ai bambini e ragazzi in Italia che abbastanza presto diventano parte del canone internazionale dei classici della letteratura per l’infanzia (Woźniak/ Biernacka-Licznar 2014: 5): le splendide avventure di Pinocchio di Collodi e il romanzo sentimentale Cuore di De Amicis conquistano i cuori di tanti bambini e ragazzi non solo in Italia, ma anche all’estero. Il presente articolo è suddiviso in due parti. La prima parte è un lavoro di riflessione sulle opere tradotte in polacco di tre scrittori italiani che hanno goduto di fama nazionale e internazionale (Collodi, De Amicis e Salgari). Al centro della seconda parte viene approfondita la storia di alcune opere delle scrittrici italiane per l’infanzia, attive nella seconda metà dell’Ottocento, e delle loro traduzioni in polacco. La nostra attenzione si concentrerà anche su alcune traduttrici polacche della letteratura italiana per l’infanzia, finora mai prese in esame, dimenticate e scomparse dalla storia letteraria. Per un primo orientamento nel gruppo dei traduttori si è ritenuto necessario procedere ad un’analisi quantitativa. L’identificazione delle traduttrici polacche, sia quelle celate dietro pseudonimi, sia quelle che scrissero firmando con il proprio nome, è stata una ricerca difficile. Per la nostra analisi ci si è basati sui dati ottenuti durante la ricerca dedicata alla storia della traduzione in polacco della letteratura italiana per l’infanzia nel periodo 1887-1945 (Woźniak/ Biernacka-Licznar/ Staniów 2014). Le prime novelle scritte da autori italiani – da Basile (Lo cunto de li cunti, 1634) o da padre Francesco Soave (Novelle, 1782), fino alla produzione letteraria di Luigi Fiacchi o Giuseppe Taverna – non hanno incontrato molto entusiasmo da parte dei traduttori polacchi; neanche i lettori italiani, soprattutto i ragazzi, davano loro tanta importanza nel periodo in questione e preferivano leggere le traduzioni di opere straniere (francesi, inglesi, tedesche). La prima opera italiana del genere che ha ottenuto in Italia un vero e proprio successo è il Giannetto (1837) di Alessandro Luigi Parravicini. Grazie alla sua diffusione forzata in ambito scolastico, il libro

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fu conosciuto da tanti ragazzi italiani, ma dimenticato nel giro di qualche anno; in polacco non ne sono stati tradotti neanche dei frammenti. Una vera e propria storia italiana della letteratura per l’infanzia ha avuto inizio nel 1881, nel momento in cui Carlo Lorenzini (detto Collodi) inviò al Giornale per i bambini “una bambinata”. Nel febbraio del 1883 (appena un mese dopo la conclusione della sua pubblicazione a puntate in rivista) la casa editrice Paggi pubblicò in volume Le avventure di Pinocchio. Storia di un burattino con le illustrazioni di Enrico Mazzanti. L’attenzione degli editori polacchi fu attratta dal libro su Pinocchio solo trent’anni dopo la pubblicazione in Italia! Le opere precedenti di Collodi non vennero in alcun modo notate dai lettori polacchi, anche se già nel Giannettino (1877) si potevano osservare “le doti narrative di Collodi educatore” (Nobile 1990: 156). Il capolavoro collodiano venne pubblicato in polacco nel 1912 dalla casa editrice Gebethner e Wolff di Varsavia, in una traduzione anonima, con il nome dell’autore errato: Eugenio Cherubini (in realtà Cherubini fu l’autore di Pinocchio in Africa, appartenente alle cosiddette “Pinocchiate”1); nella versione polacca erano riprodotte anche le illustrazioni di Enrico Mazzanti, ma senza l’indicazione del nome dell’illustratore. I bambini polacchi non si riconoscono immediatamente nel burattino e nelle sue avventure, probabilmente a causa della traduzione, nella quale il nome di Pinocchio era diventato Pietrzynka. La prima versione delle avventure del burattino passò inosservata e non fu mai ristampata. Dopo quattordici anni, nel 1926, la casa editrice Wydawnictwo Tygodniowe decise di affidare la traduzione del capolavoro di Collodi al poeta e traduttore polacco di origine ebraica Józef Wittlin. La seconda edizione apparve nella serie “Biblioteca da un centesimo”, pubblicata però con il titolo: Pinocchio. Avventure di un burattino di legno, con illustrazioni anonime in bianco e nero. Józef Wittlin nell’introduzione all’opera di Collodi presentava ai lettori polacchi l’autore italiano nel seguente modo: Il povero giornalista fiorentino ha arricchito con la sua storia divertente milioni di cuoricini, non solo dei bambini italiani, tra i quali Pinocchio rivaleggia con successo con “Cuore” di De Amicis […]. In tutto il libro non si trova un solo luogo che non agisca in modo innovatore sulla psiche del bambino, perché la mano [dello scrittore] che rende vivo il burattino lo porta agilmente per mari e continenti, lo caccia nei guai e poi lo tira fuori… meglio di prima (…). Dall’inizio alla fine le vicende di Pinocchio ci interessano sempre di più e la comicità di alcune situazioni rende felici anche i caratteri più duri (C. Collodi, Pinokio. Przygody drewnianej kukiełki, 1926, pp. 3-4). Furono molti gli imitatori di Collodi che adottarono come protagonista Pinocchio facendogli vivere delle nuove avventure. Il filone collodiano continuò a conservare il nome di “Pinocchiate”. Cherubini fu l’autore del libro Pinocchio in Africa, pubblicato nel 1904 a Firenze. I titoli delle più celebri pinocchiate si possono trovare sul sito: http://www.letteraturadimenticata.it/Pinocchio.htm (consultato il 12.01.2016) 1


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La traduzione di Wittlin fu accolta in maniera positiva dal pubblico polacco, e fu ristampata ancora quattro volte dopo la Seconda guerra mondiale (1946, 1948, 1950, 1951). La storia della ricezione polacca d’anteguerra di Pinocchio, non è quindi troppo lunga. Le avventure del burattino svoltesi in quel mondo magico e senza tempo dovettero invece aspettare l’anno 1954 e la traduzione di Zofia Jachimecka per diventare il numero uno della letteratura italiana in Polonia. A differenza de Le avventure di Pinocchio, il capolavoro di Edmondo De Amicis, Cuore, fu assimilato dalla cultura polacca quasi in contemporanea alla pubblicazione del testo originale. Dal 1878 De Amicis cominciò a lavorare, sollecitato dall’editore Treves, sul libro per bambini e ragazzi italiani; l’opera venne cullata nel proprio cuore per otto anni e alla fine pubblicata nel 1886 col titolo Cuore. Il romanzo, appena pubblicato in Italia, venne analizzato profondamente da seguaci e avversari di De Amicis, e in breve tempo venne riconosciuto come l’opera didattica più efficace, mirata a costruire l’identità nazionale dei giovani italiani. L’autore cercava di presentare in Cuore i problemi attuali della società italiana, che dopo l’unificazione combatteva contro una situazione politica difficile, tra cui i frazionamenti regionali e le differenze linguistiche. Lo scrittore incantò i lettori con un quadro basato su idee considerate universali e indipendenti da opinioni politiche, come la capacità di sacrificarsi, l’essere patrioti, sensibili e pronti ad aiutare gli altri (Biernacka-Licznar 2014: 163-174). La prima traduzione polacca venne realizzata da Helena Russocka in Wilczyńska nel 1887, ovvero un anno dopo la pubblicazione del romanzo in Italia. A scopo informativo, sul frontespizio era indicato che la traduzione era stata condotta sulla trentasettesima edizione italiana. La prima traduzione fu seguita dopo qualche anno da altre sei, di Maria Siemiradzka Obrąpalska (1890), Józef Nestorowicz (1899), Maria Konopnicka (1906), Edward Boyé (1936), Leon Sternklar (1937) e J. Drzewiecka (1938)2. Rispetto alla pubblicazione de Le avventure Pinocchio le opere di De Amicis hanno rappresentato un vero record per quanto riguarda il numero delle traduzioni e delle pubblicazioni3. Nessun altro autore italiano, nel periodo da noi esaminato, ha ripetuto il successo deamicisiano. Nel periodo compreso tra il 1887 e il 1945 Cuore fu pubblicato in Polonia 32 volte. Più attiva nella pubblicazione dell’opera deamicisiana fu la casa editrice Gebethner e Wolff che pubblicò quindici edizioni del libro di De Amicis nella traduzione di Maria Konopnicka. La popolarità della traduzione della poetessa e scrittrice Konopnicka fu dovuta all’introduzione nel testo di alcuni elementi umoristici (che mancano nella versione italiana).

Non è stato possibile risalire al nome della traduttrice polacca. Anche le altre opere di De Amicis dedicate ai ragazzi vennero tradotte abbastanza spesso in polacco (Fra scuola e casa: bozzetti e racconti, Il mio ultimo amico, La carrozza di tutti, Novelle) (Biernacka-Licznar 2014: 168). 2 3

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L’opera deamicisiana ha rappresentato in Italia, come sottolinea Asor Rosa, “uno degli strumenti più potenti di unificazione culturale nazionale” (Asor Rosa 2007: 432) e il modello proposto da De Amicis era vicino a quelli della letteratura per l’infanzia approvati in Polonia in quel momento storico. Occorre notare che Cuore ancora prima della Seconda guerra mondiale fu raccomandato come lettura obbligatoria nella scuola polacca (Franaszek 2006: 49). Il genere avventuroso vanta, tra i suoi massimi esponenti italiani, Emilio Salgari, autore di romanzi d’avventura per adolescenti la cui azione si svolge in terre inesplorate. Il patrimonio letterario di Salgari è imponente, composto da 87 romanzi e 120 racconti, e pubblicato dalle diverse case editrici tra cui: Speirani, Bemporad, Donath. Gli esotici e avventurosi romanzi di Salgari, composti per la prima volta nella letteratura italiana per l’infanzia in cicli – tra cui il Ciclo dei pirati della Malesia (11 romanzi), il Ciclo dei corsari delle Antille (5 romanzi), il Ciclo dei corsari delle Bermude (3 romanzi), il Ciclo del Far West (3 romanzi), le Avventure in India (3 romanzi) le Avventure africane (6 opere) – furono letti con attenzione e passione dai ragazzi italiani. Dell’abbondante produzione letteraria salgariana furono tradotti in polacco solo sette opere, e ogni volta la traduzione venne eseguita da un traduttore diverso. Nel 1927 al lettore polacco arrivò il romanzo La montagna di luce, tradotto da Bożena Szulc-Golska; successivamente, nel 1931, Józef Birkenmajer tradusse Un dramma nell’Oceano Pacifico; nel 1932 il romanzo Il re dell’aria venne scelto dal traduttore Konstanty Sedlaczek. Negli anni 1934-1938 si interessarono alle opere di Salgari Arnold Kleczko (La città dell’oro, 1934), Maria Janina Oleksińska (Il re della prateria, 1935), KaJot (pseudonimo di J. Kraenzler) (Il re del mare, 1936) e Eugenia Arnstein (I misteri della jungla nera, 1938). Le traduzioni polacche dei romanzi di Salgari non suscitarono un particolare interesse nei lettori. Si nota facilmente la mancanza di una logica nella scelta dei titoli da parte dalle case editrici: dei cicli più famosi, sui pirati della Malesia e sui pirati delle Antille, che contenevano bestseller come I misteri della jungla nera, Le Tigri di Mompracem, Sandokan alla riscossa, Il Corsaro Nero, ne venne scelto solo uno, I misteri della jungla nera, pubblicato per ultimo, nel 1938. Il motivo della mancata popolarità dell’opera salgariana in Polonia è da cercare forse nel successo che ebbero in Polonia i romanzi d’avventura di due autori contemporanei a Salgari, Karl May e Jules Verne. Un ruolo importante nello sviluppo della letteratura italiana per l’infanzia, lo hanno avuto anche le donne. Come sottolinea Marina Zancan (2013) le scrittrici italiane dell’Ottocento rappresentarono una parte integrante del processo del grande cambiamento della cultura del paese, spesso operando in vari ambiti: come giornaliste, traduttrici, poetesse e come scrittrici per l’infanzia. L’industria culturale di quel tempo aprì le porte alle loro molteplici iniziative. La studiosa pone l’attenzione su due generazioni di scrittrici, la prima nata nella prima metà dell’Ottocento – Marchesa Colombi, Emma, Neera, Contessa Lara, Matilde Serao – e la seconda nata intorno


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agli anni Settanta dell’Ottocento – Ada Negri, Grazia Deledda, Sibilla Aleramo, Anna Franchi, Annie Vivanti, Amalia Guglielminetti. Anche Barbara De Serio focalizza l’attenzione sul fertile contributo delle donne summenzionate che nella loro epoca cercarono di intraprendere la carriera di scrittrici (De Serio 2015). Conoscendo la storia delle biografie di queste donne coraggiose, le quali di frequente, come sottolinea De Serio, furono “costrette a pubblicare le loro opere in forma anonima o tramite l’utilizzo di pseudonimi maschili” (De Serio 2015: 1), abbiamo esaminato quali opere sono state tradotte in polacco. L’editoria polacca ha proposto ai giovani lettori le opere di Ida Baccini, Adriana Castelnuovo Tedesco, Cordelia (Virginia Tedeschi Treves), Camilla Del Soldato, Cesarina Lorenzoni, Laura Orvieto, Maria Pasini e Olga Visentini. È interessante prestare attenzione sia ai nomi delle scrittrici appena menzionate sia ai traduttori polacchi (spesso donne) che hanno deciso di presentare al pubblico polacco le loro opere. Oggi non sappiamo quale fosse il motivo della scelta dell’autore o dell’opera da tradurre, perché purtroppo nelle grandi biblioteche polacche non esistono degli archivi dei traduttori. Probabilmente la scelta delle opere da tradurre era dovuta alla vicinanza delle esperienze tra donna italiana e donna polacca, ma anche ai probabili incontri che in Italia avvennero tra le scrittrici italiane e le traduttrici polacche. Dobbiamo sottolineare che nel periodo 1900-1939 in Polonia la cultura italiana era presente tramite l’Istituto Dante Alighieri, l’Istituto di Cultura Italiana (a Varsavia dal 1934), la rivista “Polonia-Italia”, varie iniziative culturali, informazioni sui giornali e sulle riviste polacche. È naturale che l’interesse verso l’Italia e verso la cultura italiana abbia trovato il suo posto pure nelle traduzioni della letteratura. A cavallo tra Ottocento e Novecento l’editoria italiana per l’infanzia (soprattutto l’editoria femminile) era in una fase di grandissimo sviluppo. Le autrici italiane per l’infanzia, molte volte giornaliste, tramite le loro opere crearono un modo consapevole di discutere e affrontare non solo questioni pedagogiche ma anche le proprie esperienze di vita, la necessità dell’emancipazione culturale e sociale della donna italiana. I riferimenti alla funzione educativa e pedagogica erano temi molto presenti nei loro libri, ma anche molto sentiti dalle donne polacche. All’inizio del ventesimo secolo un’opera tradotta non veniva ancora considerata come opera autonoma. Naturalmente i traduttori stessi, qualche volta in modo inconsapevole, reinterpretavano il testo originale. La traduzione non è un atto isolato, come afferma Susan Bassnett (Bassnett 2002), rimane sempre una strettissima relazione tra il testo originale e la cultura d’arrivo della traduzione. Nell’epoca da noi esaminata il naturale metodo di lavoro del traduttore, almeno fino al 1939, era quello di facilitare la lettura del testo e di rimanere il più possibile fedele al testo originale. Le traduttrici della letteratura italiana per l’infanzia esaminate nel presente articolo (per citare solo alcuni nomi: Helena Grotowska, Maria Obrąpalska in Siemiradzka, Maria Janina Oleksińska, Gabriela Pianko, Zuzanna Rabska, Elżbieta Steinbergowa) sono rimaste fin ad oggi un po’ dimenticate. Il loro posto e il loro

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ruolo nella pubblicazione dei libri italiani fu però fondamentale, il loro lavoro (spesso svolto per piacere, e non per guadagno) ha permesso ai ragazzi polacchi e ai loro genitori di familiarizzare con le opere italiane. Per fare un esempio presentiamo la traduzione del capolavoro della fiorentina Ida Baccini (1850-1911), Le memorie di un pulcino (1875). Il libro faceva parte del gruppo di opere con scopo educativo che offrivano al lettore la possibilità di riflettere sui doveri sociali tramite il simpatico protagonista: un pulcino. La fortuna di questo libro in Italia fu enorme: alla prima edizione ne seguirono altre 76, “facendo del libro d’esordio di Ida Baccini un long-seller dell’editoria per l’infanzia e un classico per i ragazzi” (Bloom 2015: 93). La traduzione polacca di Maria Janina Oleksińska4 arrivò molto, molto tardi, solo nel 1931, dopo 50 anni dalla sua pubblicazione in Italia. Nel 1930 sul quotidiano “Gazeta Lwowska” Baccini veniva presentata come “una delle più famose scrittrici italiane per l’infanzia” (Nicewicz-Staszowska, in corso di stampa). Il tema proposto nel 1875 dalla Baccini venne poi ripreso nel 1898 con la seconda parte delle avventure del coraggioso pulcino (mai tradotta in polacco5) e qualche decennio dopo da Lorenzoni Cesarina (Il pulcino verde e storie d’altri animali, 1925). L’opera di Lorenzoni apparve in polacco nel 1931, grazie alla traduzione di Ela Steinbergowa (pseudonimo: ELESTA). Due libri entrambi molto divertenti, Le memorie di un pulcino di Baccini e le avventure del pulcino verde di Lorenzoni vennero pubblicate in Polonia nello stesso anno. Indagare sulle eventuali strategie e iniziative editoriali riguardanti la letteratura italiana per l’infanzia messe in atto dagli editori polacchi nel periodo 1887-1939 è stato un compito difficile da perseguire, a causa della mancanza del materiale scomparso durante la Seconda guerra mondiale (per esempio le corrispondenze tra le traduttrici e le case editrici coinvolte). Nella nostra indagine si nota la presenza della traduttrice polacca di origine ebraica Ela Steinbergowa, che lavorò nella biblioteca della Società Dante Alighieri di Łódź. La scelta degli autori e dei titoli delle opere da tradurre sembra casuale, ma Elesta presentò ai giovani lettori polacchi dieci traduzioni delle opere italiane per l’infanzia (tra cui tre libri di Camilla Del Soldato, uno di Fanciulli Giuseppe, uno di Lovati in Guelfi Cesarina, uno di Lorenzoni Cesarina, tre di Pasini Maria (Benvegnù), uno di Ravizza Alessandrina) e cinque traduzioni dal tedesco (tra cui le 4 Purtroppo sulla persona della traduttrice Maria Janina Oleksińska mancano le informazioni nei dizionari biografici polacchi. 5 Com’è stato osservato da Ewa Nicewicz-Staszowska, nella traduzione polacca de Le Memorie di un pulcino la traduttrice Oleksińska ha introdotto alcuni cambiamenti: non ha messo il nome della campagna toscana (Vespignano) dove si svolgeva l’azione del romanzo, non ha tradotto il Vocabolarietto a uso dei non toscani, riportato dalla Baccini alla fine del libro. Nel momento della pubblicazione della traduzione polacca dell’opera della Baccini, in Polonia circolavano già le novelle per l’infanzia con il protagonista gallus viator (per es. Maria Dynowska nel 1927 pubblicò Przygody Cipusia). Forse per questo motivo la casa editrice ZN im. Ossolińskich di Leopoli decise di non pubblicare la seconda parte dell’opera Come andò a finire il pulcino pubblicata in Italia nel 1898.


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opere di Clara Nordström e di Felix Salten). Le case editrici con le quali collaborava la Steinbergowa non guardavano solo al valore commerciale, ma soprattutto alla promozione della letteratura straniera per l’infanzia (tra cui anche quella italiana) sul mercato polacco, scegliendo le traduzioni delle opere di scrittori abbastanza affermati e “seri”. Anche Zuzanna Rabska (1888-1960) svolse il lavoro di traduttrice. Nata e cresciuta a Varsavia nella famiglia ebrea di Jadwiga e Aleksander Kraushar, da piccola partecipò alla vita culturale di Varsavia. Dal 1925 cominciò a svolgere il ruolo di redattore letterario del quotidiano “Kurier Warszawski”; fu anche socia della Società Dante Alighieri di Varsavia. In polacco ha tradotto le opere di Bianca Maria Viviani della Robbia, Leggende dei fiori, e l’opera Fiore di Giuseppe Fanciulli. Gabriela Pianko (1893-1973), filologo classico, traduttrice della letteratura italiana, francese, tedesca e inglese, negli anni 1936-1939 fu impegnata nella fondazione della rivista “Polonia-Italia” e tradusse in polacco l’opera di Alfredo Panzini La lanterna di Diogene. Helena Grotowska di casa Scipio del Campo (?-1967), scrittrice polacca e traduttrice, dopo la Seconda guerra mondiale lavorò come lettore di lingua italiana all’Università di Łódź. Tradusse in polacco nel 1923 l’opera intitolata Microbo: libro per ragazzi e per popolo di Erasmo Crottolina (Romolo Maresciotti); l’anno seguente la casa editrice Książnica Polska di Leopoli le assegnò il compito di tradurre il libro di Vamba (Luigi Bertelli) Ciondolino, e nel 1928 Grotowska tradusse la famosa opera di Laura Orvieto Storie della storia del mondo. Ricostruire in breve la storia della letteratura italiana per l‘infanzia tradotta in polacco nel periodo d’anteguerra ha permesso di mettere in evidenza il ruolo sia dei traduttori sia delle case editrici. La loro importanza nel formare e creare il mercato del libro per l’infanzia è indiscutibile. La nostra analisi, anche se breve a causa dello spazio limitato, ha messo in luce le figure di alcune traduttrici polacche, donne consapevoli del proprio ruolo di mediatori culturali e dell’importanza del loro lavoro di sviluppo e di promozione della letteratura italiana per l’infanzia in Polonia. La letteratura italiana per l’infanzia, riconosciuta come “letteratura minore” rispetto a quella francese o inglese, nel periodo che ha preceduto la guerra ha trovato il suo posto nella mappa delle letterature straniere tradotte in polacco grazie alle case editrici e naturalmente ai traduttori. Le scelte dei traduttori e delle case editrici hanno offerto ai bambini polacchi la possibilità di conoscere la bella Italia attraverso opere diverse, interessanti e graziose.

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BIBLIOGRAFIA ASOR ROSA, A. (2007): “Le avventure di Pinocchio. Storia di un burattino” di Carlo Collodi, in: ASOR ROSA, A. (ed.): Letteratura Italiana. Le Opere, vol. XIII, L’età contemporanea. Le opere 1870-1900, Torino. BASSNETT, S. (2002): Translation Studies, London. BIERNACKA-LICZNAR, K. (2014): „O historii przekładów włoskiej literatury dla dzieci na język polski do roku 1945”, in: WOŹNIAK, M./ BIERNACKA-LICZNAR, K./ STANIÓW, B. (2014): Przekłady w systemie małych literatur. O włosko-polskich i polsko-włoskich tłumaczeniach dla dzieci i młodzieży, Toruń, 145-205. BLOOM, K. (2015): Cordelia, 1881-1942. Profilo storico di una rivista per ragazze, Malmö. COLLODI, C. (1926): Pinokio. Przygody drewnianej kukiełki, Warszawa. DE SERIO, B. (ed.) (2015): Scrittrici d’infanzia. Dai libri per bambini ai romanzi per giovinette, Bari. FRANASZEK, A. (2006): Od Bieruta do Herlinga-Grudzińskiego. Wykaz lektur szkolnych w Polsce w latach 1946-1999, Warszawa. GARAVINI, M. (2014): La traduzione della letteratura per l’infanzia dal finlandese all’italiano: l’esempio degli albi illustrati di Mauri Kunnas, Turku. KLINGBERG, G./ ØRVIG, M./ AMOR, S. (eds.) (1978): Children’s Books in Translation: The Situation and the Problems, Stockholm. LATHEY, G. (2006): The Translation of Children’s Literature: A Reader, Clevedon. www.letteratura dimenticata.it/Pinocchio.htm NICEWICZ-STASZOWSKA, E. (w druku): Ida Baccini znana-nieznana. NOBILE, A. (1990): Letteratura Giovanile. Brescia. SHAVIT, Z. (1981): “Translation of Children’s Literature as a Function of its Position in the Literary Polysystem”, in: EVEN-ZOHAR, I./ TOURY, G. (eds.): Translation and Intercultural Relations, Poetics Today, Vol. 2:4: 171-179. VAN COILLIE, J. (2006): “Characters Names in Translation. A Functionale Approach”, in: VAN COILLIE, J./ VERSCHEUREN, W.P. (ed.) Children’s Literature in Translation: Challenges and Strategies, Manchester. WOŹNIAK, M./ BIERNACKA-LICZNAR, K./ STANIÓW, B. (2014): Przekłady w systemie małych literatur. O włosko-polskich i polsko-włoskich tłumaczeniach dla dzieci i młodzieży, Toruń. WOŹNIAK, M./ BIERNACKA-LICZNAR, K. (2014): Serce Pinokia. Włoska literatura dla dzieci i młodzieży, Kraków. ZANCAN, M. (2013): “Scrittrici italiane del Novecento. Il canone nella prospettiva di genere”, Acta Universitatis Stockholmiensis, Romancia Stockholmiensia, 30, 53-64.


JAN B. ŁOMPIEŚ (UNIWERSYTET WARSZAWSKI)

INTERCULTURAL COMPETENCE IN BUSINESS DISCOURSE

The realm of business is the realm of hard facts, profit and loss statements, tough competition and merciless battle for market share. The reality is that business survival is almost always at stake in our turbulent times. There is no denying that it is the competence of business people that plays a key role in business success. This paper discusses the concept of competence from the perspective of the anthropocentric theory, i.e. viewed as an inherent property of a human being. The author also presents an overview of the selected concepts of competence, discursive competence and intercultural competence in international business. The author points to potential risks related to the expansion of business activity into foreign markets, including the risks resulting from cultural differences. The selected issues of negotiation in international business are also discussed in the last section of the paper. KEYWORDS: business, competence, discursive competence, intercultural competence, negotiation

INTRODUCTION

The aim of this article is to share some insights into the notion of intercultural competence in business, particularly in the international arena. Since in today’s globalised world business people are more often than ever in contacts and encounters with every possible culture, there is a need for them to possess essential knowledge and skills required to operate successfully in culturally different foreign markets. A considerable number of business failures have been ascribed to a lack of intercultural competence on the part of business practitioners. In this paper, therefore, an attempt is made to indicate those attributes of foreign cultures that might be distinguished as risky and failure-generating for business people in order to predict and formulate appropriate discourse practice. The discussion of different aspects of intercultural competence and discourse in business is preceded by the explanation of the notion of competence in general and of its ontological status. Then we will proceed to discussing competence in business discourse and the selected issues of negotiation in international business.

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THE NOTION OF COMPETENCE

A linguist must not pass over the name of Noam Chomsky since it was this eminent scholar who introduced the notion of competence into linguistic terminology (1965: 4) as the ability of an ideal speaker-hearer to produce an unlimited string of sentences based on a limited amount of lexical items and grammatical rules. N. Chomsky distinguished competence and performance, presenting this differentiation as follows: “We thus make a fundamental distinction between competence (the speaker-hearer’s knowledge of his language) and performance (the actual use of language in concrete situations)” (ibidem). Such a concept of competence was criticized for the assumption based on an ideal speaker-listener having perfect linguistic knowledge, and being supposedly unaffected by situational factors in the course of their linguistic performance. American sociolinguist Dell Hymes, in particular, and also Polish linguist Franciszek Grucza argued that Chomsky’s idealized speaker-listener concept entirely disregarded real-life communicative situation. According to F. Grucza (1988: 311), D. Hymes was right in pointing to the social factors of competence, and in making use of the term communicative competence, meaning not only in terms of conformity of utterances with formal linguistic rules, but also in terms of appropriateness to the situation and context of use. It is true that the contribution of the mentioned American scholars was far from negligible; yet the fact remains that it was the Polish linguist, F. Grucza, who as early as in 1983, developed a consistent and original concept of linguistic and cultural competence within his anthropocentric theory of human languages. This theory holds, among other things, that man is in the center of anthropocentric linguistics as a language- knowledge- and culture generating human species (F. Grucza 1997: 15). People are carriers of their individually acquired language (idiolanguage), knowledge (idioknowledge) and culture (idioculture). Based on F. Gruczas theory, we would also view the concept of competence through the lenses of anthropocentric theory and would regard competence as an inherent human quality, as is also the case with other human properties such as culture, knowledge and language. Similarly, competence is empirically nonobservable as such (cf. S. Grucza 2008: 108). This quality can only be identified by observing and analyzing its manifestations in the form of human acts, behaviors, human products and artifacts. Any professional competence is displayed by an individual in the performance in a specific field and context (at a given place and time), which is to say that this notion is human-specific, domain-specific and context-specific as presented in Figure 1. Before discussing intercultural competence in business discourse, it seems appropriate to identify and discuss the notion of competence in general along with its main constituent parts.


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Humanspecific

Competence

Domainspecific

Contextspecific

Figure 1. Competence as a human-specific, domain-specific and context-specific construct.

Competence is widely considered to be a multidimensional construct, however, a set of components making it up is still a controversial issue. Many, if not most, scholars point to its three major sets of components: knowledge, skills and behavioural factors such as attitude and personality traits, emotions or other psychological features (e.g. intelligence, concentration ability and memory). Needless to say that this list might be extended further, which would make however the whole notion of competence comparable to a bag of multiple and eclectic properties of different significance and nature. It would seem, therefore, sensible to examine this notion in its narrow or minimalistic sense before attempting to extend further the list of its components. Thus we would suggest that the point of departure in research on competence should rather be the set of its two core components, i.e. an individual’s knowledge and skill in applying that knowledge in a certain professional field and context of activity. As T. Hyland rightly comments (1995: 47), there may be clearly “holistic” and “minimalistic” approaches to the issue of competence. This distinction appears to be valid for, at least, the following reasons: 1) Both components – knowledge and skill – are dynamic, i.e. changeable and modifiable as a result of human efforts to acquire knowledge and develop their skills. In contrast, personality traits are mainly inborn, genetically determined and relatively stable. Individuals who lack certain personality traits cannot easily acquire them (cf. L. O’Sullivan 1999). According to L. O’Sullivan, the existing research fails to distinguish between stable competencies (e.g. personality traits) and dynamic ones (ibidem). 2) The impact of psychological components on competence formation seems to be less significant in comparison to much greater importance of knowledge and skill.

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Some scholars perceive competence as a pyramid whose foundation is made up of basic knowledge, which is becoming more advanced when moving upwards, and reaching the level of proficiency at the top. Such a pyramid is shown in Figure 2.

Figure 2. Miller’s pyramid presenting an integrated picture of competence (cf. G.E. Miller 1990: 563ff).

In Miller’s pyramid presented in Figure 2, competent individuals not only know how to act, but they are also able to demonstrate their skill and proficiency. The whole pyramid represents the ultimate competence composed of both knowledge and skill developed to the extent necessary to ensure successful performance in a given domain. Professional domains require both knowledge and skill but in some professions the significance of these two components appears to be unequal. In addition, these two core components of competence, i.e. knowledge and skill, differ from each other in some respects. Competence, as noted before, is a construct that is empirically non-observable as such (cf. S. Grucza 2008: 108). We can identify competence and assess individuals as competent by observing and analysing the manifestations of this competence in the form of their acts, behaviours, their products or artifacts. Competence of competent individuals may be displayed in their regular performing a specified task or a set of tasks in a particular domain to an agreed or at least satisfying standard. What is more, neither competence nor knowledge is transferable from one individual to another. The so-called transfer of competence or knowledge from one human being to another should be regarded only as a metaphor. This conviction is in line with F. Grucza’s anthropocentric theory and follows from the fact that neither of these properties may be acquired in other way than through an individual’s own cognitive and practical exercise.


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Skills may be demonstrated and displayed in action, while knowledge is nonobservable and may be externalized in language, more precisely in externalized oral or written texts. On the other hand, a certain amount of knowledge is an important prerequisite for skill development. Considerable amount of knowledge is probably the most desired competence component in the area of science, academia and research. Furthermore, knowledge is to some extent objectively (with the exception of the so-called silent knowledge) measurable, while skill is rather not (with the exception of some sports disciplines). American scholars, J.P. Johnson, T. Lenartowicz, S. Apud (2006), quote convincing arguments in support of this statement, by exemplifying the occupations and professions where skill is of relatively greater importance, as for instance in the profession of a surgeon or a pilot. In order to obtain a pilot’s licence, one must pass two examinations: first the written one, where the candidates can demonstrate their knowledge of aviation and flying. Then the candidates have to display their skill in flying a plane. The knowledge of a candidate can be assessed in a classroom situation, but the skill requires an examiner to evaluate the candidate in the air, and if necessary, to take over the controls since crashing a plane is not an option (cf. J.P. Johnson, T. Lenartowicz, S. Apud (2006)). The conclusion suggests itself that in some areas of human activity it is the skill that is the most important constituent part of competence. Last but not least, it seems worthy of mention here that the ontological assumption of competence, as residing in a human being, makes it incompatible with the practice of applying this notion to inanimate constructs or collective structures such as organisations, enterprises or other forms of human activity.

BUSINESS DISCOURSE AND DISCURSIVE COMPETENCE IN INTERNATIONAL BUSINESS

“Business discourse is all about how people communicate using talk or writing in commercial organizations in order to get their work done” (Bargiela-Chiappini/ Nickerson/ Planken 2007: 3). It seems, however, that the authors of this definition fail to mention at least one fundamental feature of any discourse, which is an interaction between its participants. In addition, business discourse refers to the interaction conducted not only within organizations. In today’s globalised world, international business contacts and encounters are becoming increasingly common, which inevitably results in additional risks and threats. Since an exhaustive discussion of discourse goes beyond the scope of this paper, we would refer to S. Grucza’s succinct definition according to which discursive competence comprises the abilities of specialists to conduct effectively verbal interaction, i.e. dialogue, debate or polemics related to business (cf. 2008: 110).

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Business discourse may be found among all the traditionally mentioned types of discourse such as argumentation, narration, description and exposition. It seems, however, that it is argumentative discourse that predominates in business encounters and also in written business texts. While it is true that effective communication and argumentation of business people plays a vital role in ensuring successful business operation, the fact remains that linguists should not limit themselves to descriptions of the existing status quo. As S. Grucza comments, linguists should also strive to investigate the underlying reasons for effective or ineffective communication occurring among specialists (S. Grucza 2008: 111). Admittedly, the research in the field of argumentation, referred to as pragmadialectics, was already undertaken by F. Hans van Eemeeren in the early eighties of the 20th century. Argumentation was understood, according to pragma-dialectical definition by Frans van Eemeren, as a complex speech act aimed at justifying or refuting a standpoint in order to convince the interlocutor of the acceptability or unacceptability of that standpoint (van Eemeren and Houtlosser 2002: 14). In the beginning, this line of research was focused mainly on effective argumentative discourse in the legal context. It was not until the beginning of the 21st century that this school of thought attempted to engage in research on argumentative discourse in business, which was also called as a bargaining discourse. A bargaining model of discourse in business assumes that the basis for conflict is not as much a contradiction of facts or values as it is a conflict of interests (cf. Jacobs and Aakhus 2002: 30-40). The model of argumentative discourse in international business additionally comprises the component of possible cultural conflicts as is shown in Figure 3.

Argumentative Discourse in International Business (conflict of cultures and interests) Argumentative Discourse in Business (conflict of interests) Argumentative Discourse (conflict of values, beliefs, facts)

Discourse

Figure 3. A pyramid of discourse indicating the passage from general to argumentative discourse in international business.


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Any business discourse is composed of a sequence of speech acts performed interactively in business settings, and with the option of entering into negotiation. In fact, almost every aspect of business discourse involves a certain amount of bargaining or negotiation, the mastery of which seems to be essential to business success. But it is intercultural negotiations that pose the biggest challenge to any business enterprise seeking to enter foreign markets. Businessmen operating in an international arena have to acquire additional components of competence, i.e. knowledge and skill in dealing with foreign cultures. This aspect will be expanded on in the next section.

INTERCULTURAL COMPETENCE AND POTENTIAL RISKS IN INTERNATIONAL BUSINESS

Research on intercultural competence in business was motivated primarily by practical needs and concerns of business people and business organisations. Attempting to create an all-embracing definition of such an intangible thing as intercultural competence in such a variety of settings and cultures appears to be an overwhelming goal. The most comprehensive work so far on this subject, which is “The Sage Handbook of Intercultural Competence” (2009) edited by Darla K. Deardoff, provides the review of over twenty definitions and models of intercultural competence. Before moving on to the discussion of the selected theories and definitions suggested by other scholars, it seems appropriate to refer to S. Grucza’s remarks in this respect. According to this scholar (S. Grucza 2013: 112ff), we should always bear in mind that culture exists exclusively in our minds, more precisely in our brains, as our inherent property, i.e. as idioculture. What can be deduced from this assertion is that there are as many specific cultures as there are people on our planet. What is more, some details of theories and scholarly assumptions meticulously ascribing certain cultural traits to specific regions or countries may turn out invalid for different reasons at the bargaining table (e.g. when someone is born in one culture but educated in another). Hence, these theories should be treated cautiously, and with a proverbial pinch of salt. Among the most widely recognized theories, which are relevant to business practices, undoubtedly E.T. Hall’s theory of high- and low-context cultures should be mentioned in the first place. The American anthropologist Edward T. Hall is known for developing the concepts of high- and low-context cultures as important factors contributing to the manner of expressing and communicating ideas. The concept of cultural contexts also applies to the way and style in which people in diverse cultures express themselves in spoken and written communication, as well as it indicates the possible attitude towards the rules of the law. In low-context cultures,

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communication is oriented towards a direct, clear and precise verbal message, while non-verbal messages are of significantly lesser importance. Directness in low-context cultures is considered to be a virtue, while indirectness may even be regarded as a waste of time and as trying other people’s patience. Differences in attitudes to the written word, contractual agreements and the rules of the law are also significant when comparing low-context cultures (with their strong emphasis on the written word) and high-context cultures (with relatively weak emphasis on the written word), and these differences must not be ignored by business people trading across the borders and cultures. Therefore, in the light of Hall’s theory, when doing business across cultures, it is very important to pay attention to high- and low-context cultures that are manifested through the actions of our business partners. The distinction between these two contextual dimensions is central to understanding the significant part of cultural differences in the world. E.T. Hall examined these differences according to the levels of context in several countries and ranked these countries as presented in Figure 4 below.

High context

Medium context

Low context

• China • India • Japan

• Arabic countries • Latin American countries

• Italy • England • France • United States • Scandinavian countries • Germany

Figure 4. Ranking of the selected countries according to the level of cultural context (adapted from M.B. Goodman 2013: 30).

As to the definitions of international competence that have certainly gained wide recognition, let me quote the following three definitions: 1. “Knowledge of others; knowledge of self; skills to interpret and relate; skills to discover and/or to interact; valuing others’ values, beliefs, and behaviors; and relativizing one’s self. Linguistic competence plays a key role” (Byram 1997: 34).


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2. “World knowledge, foreign language proficiency, cultural empathy, approval of foreign people and cultures, ability to practice one’s profession in an international setting” (Lambert 1994, as cited in Deardorff 2006: 247). 3. “The ability to communicate effectively and appropriately in a variety of cultural contexts” (Bennett 2007, as cited in M. Moodian 2009: 127-128). Several scholars have developed definitions of intercultural competence that are more general and lengthy, but contain some important additional elements. These definitions included such components as the cultural awareness, valuing and understanding cultural differences; experiencing other cultures and self-awareness of one’s own culture. These elements highlight the underlying importance of cultural awareness, both of one’s own as well as others’ cultures, which is an additional contributory factor to business peoples’ success. Irrespective of three dimensions of risk (financial, commercial and country risk) that businesses always face while developing sales in the domestic market, there is an additional risk for businesses trying to conquer foreign markets. The point is that potential business risks may obviously be higher when dealing and negotiating with representatives of unfamiliar cultures. In Figure 5, these four dimensions of risk are presented, indicating the main sources of risk for each dimension. Financial risk

Country risk

(of insolvency and default on payments)

(of adverse political and regulatory changes)

Cultural risk Commercial risk (of low sales)

Business entreprise

(of miscommunication and mismanagement of relations with foreign partners)

Figure 5. Potential risks borne by enterprises entering foreign markets.

As is shown in Figure 5, culture risk involves miscommunication and mismanagement of relations with foreign business partners, which may be attributed to the lack of knowledge and skill in dealing with foreign culture. Therefore, there is a necessity for risk and opportunity assessment before embarking on any business expansion into foreign markets. Such an expansion requires an in-depth preparation of business activities that should be appropriately adapted to the foreign market culture, to say nothing of foreign customs, rules and business regulations. In a wide spectrum of possible business activities and encounters with the representatives of foreign cultures there are, however, quite specific types of discourse that pose tough challenge for business people, namely business negotiations.

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NEGOTIATIONS ACROSS CULTURES

People from different cultures place a different emphasis or attribute different meaning to the negotiation process and style. Negotiation is considered in some cultures to be a sign of weakness. Even the level of aversion to negotiation is indicative of specific culture. In the United Kingdom, for example, 97% of people accept the buyer’s first offer; in the United States, it is down as low as 17% in some commodity groups and in Australia, it is around 30% (Kennedy 2009). Richard D. Louis (2006: 165ff) highlights the importance of the social setting in certain cultures, which he describes as follows: • The French, most Latin Americans and the Japanese regard a negotiation as a social ceremony to which important consideration of venue, participants, hospitality protocol time scale, courtesy of discussion and the ultimate significance of the session are attached. The Japanese also view the session as an occasion to ratify ceremonially decisions that have previously been reached. • Americans, Australians, Britons and Scandinavians have a much more pragmatic view and are less concerned about the social aspects of business meetings. They generally want to get the session over as quickly as possible, with entertaining and protocol kept to a minimum. • The Germans and Swiss are somewhere in between. There is vast literature about negotiation, but only a small fraction is focused on its process. Most books and studies are goal-oriented, and discuss primarily the possible outcome of negotiation. It was not until the nineties of the 20th century that a growing number of researchers started to investigate business negotiation as a process and a subtype of business discourse. A pioneering study and arguably one of the most comprehensive to date works in the field is “The Discourse of Business Negotiation” edited by K. Ehlich and J. Wagner (1995). The authors of papers contained in this book also attempt to draw on the linguistic pragmatics, but unlike F. Hans van Eemeren, they investigate the concept of face in the sense elaborated by P. Brown and S. Levinson (cf. Villemoes 1995: 291-312). As in pragma-dialectical model of a bargaining discourse, business negotiation is viewed as a potentially conflictive situation, but instead of logical and rational approach typical of Western argumentation theories, Brown and Levinson’s politeness theory is suggested here as a possible theoretical framework for the analysis of business interactions during the negotiation process (ibidem: 302ff). A. Villemoes and other authors remind us that according to Brown and Levinson, the factor regulating all interaction is face in its two aspects, namely positive face meaning the positive consistent self-image that people have and their desire to be appreciated and approved of by at least some other people, and negative face, i.e. a person’s need not to be intruded upon in her or his privacy.


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This approach seems particularly useful in investigating different aspects of intercultural negotiations in international business where the representatives of two cultures sitting at the bargaining table make attempts to achieve their contradictory goals driven by different backgrounds and different cultural motives. In such situations there is indeed great potential for losing the face and triggering strong emotions often leading to failure. In Brown and Levinson’s theory, even everyday communication is potentially antagonistic and face threatening, to say nothing of negotiations. In point of fact, observations of businessmen during negotiations suggest that representatives of some cultures are more concerned about face needs that representatives of other cultures (cf. Wijst and Ulijn 1995: 313). P. Wijst and J. Ulijn also conclude that Brown and Levinson’s theory may provide a promising tool to analyse the linguistic behaviours of negotiators coming from different cultures (ibidem: 347). In addition, these authors draw, another and important conclusion from their observations, namely the significance of language proficiency. The fluency in the language of negotiations contributes significantly to the successful outcome and the factor of language proficiency has to be taken into account in further analyses of intercultural negotiations (ibidem: 346). Already ancient rhetoricians – predecessors of today’s negotiators – strongly believed that language was a potent means of persuasion provided that the speaker had ready supply of lexical items and expressions appropriate in a given situation. A lack of language proficiency may render even knowledgeable negotiator ineffective in intercultural business negotiation and discourse.

CONCLUDING THOUGHT

The analysis of unresolved problems and dilemmas should always be the focus of scientific research. The challenging and unresolved problems that humans now face seem to be multiplying faster than our ability to manage them. At the global arena we are witnessing diverse, often unfortunate effects of globalization, accelerated technological progress, mismanaged multiculturalism, cultural clashes and massive migrations that may pose unprecedented threats and are likely to undermine European and not only European security. These and many other unresolved problems provoke reflection on the scarcity of still another type of competence, namely supranational competence to manage world affairs and global risks in order to ensure safe existence for the human race.

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REFERENCES ALNAIJAR, J. (2016): Communication Audit in Globally Integrated R&D Project Teams. A Linguistic Perspective, Frankfurt a. M., Peter Lang (Warschauer Studien zur Germanistik und zur Angewandten Linguistik 23). BARGIELA-CHIAPPINI, F./ NICKERSON, C./ PLANKEN, B. (2007): Business Discourse, Basingstoke/UK. BROWN, P./ LEVINSON, S.C. (1978/2013): Politeness. Some universals in language use, Cambridge/ UK. BYRAM, M. (1997): Teaching and Assessing Intercultural Communicative Competence, Clevedon/ UK: Multilinugual Matters. BYRAM, M./ NICHOLS, A./ STEVENS, D. (2001): Developing Intercultural Competence in Practice, Clevendon/UK. CHOMSKY, N. (1965): Aspects of the Theory of Syntax, Cambridge, Massachusetts. DEARDOFF, D.K. (2006): “Identification and Assessment of Intercultural Competence as a Student Outcome of Internationalization”, in: Journal of Studies in International Education No 10/2006, 241-263. DEARDOFF, D.K. (ed.) (2009): The Sage Handbook of Intercultural Competence, Thousand Oaks, California. EEMEREN, F.H. VAN/ HOUTLOSSER, P. (2002): “Strategic maneuvering with the burden of proof”, in: EEMEREN, F.H. VAN (ed.): Advances in Pragma-Dialectics, Amsterdam. EHLIH, K./ WAGNER, J., (1995): The Discourse of Business Negotiation, Berlin/New York. FISHER, R./ URY, W. (2011): Getting to Yes. Negotiating Agreement Without Giving In, London. FURNHAM, A. (2003): The Incompetent Manager, London and Philadelphia. GELFAND, M.J./ BRETT, J.M. (2004): The Handbook of Negotiation and Culture, Stanford. GOODMAN, M.B., (2013): Intercultural Communication for Managers, New York. GRUCZA, F. (1983): Zagadnienia metalingwistyki. Lingwistyka – jej przedmiot, lingwistyka stosowana, Warszawa. GRUCZA, F. (1988): „Zum Begriff der Sprachkompetenz, Kommunikationskompetenz und Kulturkompetenz“, in: HONSZA, N./ ROLLOF, H.-G. (eds): Das eine Nation die andere verstehen möge, Amsterdam, 309-331. GRUCZA, F. (1997): “Języki ludzkie a wyrażenia językowe, wiedza a informacja, mózg a umysł ludzki”, in: GRUCZA, F./ DAKOWSKA, M. (eds): Podejście kognitywne w lingwistyce, translatoryce i glottodydaktyce, Warszawa, 7-21. GRUCZA, S. (2008): Lingwistyka języków specjalistycznych, Warszawa. HYLAND, T. (1995): “Behaviourism and the Meaning of Competence”, in: HODKINSON, P./ ISSITT, M. (eds.): The Challenge of Competence, London/ New York, 44-57. JACOBS, S./ AAKHUS, M. (2002): “How to resolve a conflict: Two models of dispute resolution”, in: EEMEREN, F.H. VAN (ed.): Advances in Pragma-Dialectics, Amsterdam, 29-44. JOHNSON, J.P./ LENARTOWICZ, T./ APUD, S., (2006): “Cross-cultural Competence in International Business: Toward a Definition and a Model”, in: Journal of International Business Studies 37, 525-543. LEIBA-O’SULLIVAN, S. (1999): “The Distinction between Stable and Dynamic Cross-cultural Competencies: Implications for Expatriate Trainability”, in: Journal of International Business Studies No 30, 709-725. LEWIS, R.D. (2007): When Cultures Collide, Boston/ New York. LUSTIG, M.W./ KOESTER, J. (2013): Intercultural Competence: Interpersonal Communication Across Cultures, Boston. ŁOMPIEŚ, J.B. (2014): „Im Dschungel der Kompetenzen. Überlegungen zur Pragmatik der Geschäftstätigkeit“, in: GRUCZA, S./ WIERZBICKA, M./ ALNAJJAR, J./ BĄK, P. (eds): Polnischdeutsche Unternehmenskommunikation, Frankfurt am Main, 119-122.


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MILLER, G.E. (1990): ‘The assessment of clinical skills/competence/performance’, in: Acad Med 65 (1990), 563-567. MOODIAN, M.A. (2009): Contemporary Leadership and Intercultural Competence. Exploring the Cross-Cultural Dynamics Within Organisations, Thousand Oaks, California. OSTROWSKA, U. (2014): “Discourse – from the theoretical and methodological perspective”, in: Educational Forum Vol. 26 No 1(56), 91-109. SUTHERLAND, J./ CANWELL, D. (2004): Key Concepts in International Business, Basingstoke/UK. TROMPENAARS, F./ HAMPTEN-TURNER, CH. (1997): Riding the Waves of Culture. Understanding Cultural Diversity in Business, London. VIJST, P. VAN DER/ ULIJN, J. (1995): „Politeness in French/Dutch negotiations, in: EHLICH, K./ WAGNER, J. (eds): The Discourse of Business Negotiation, Berlin/New York, 313-348. VILLEMOES, A. (1995): “Culturally determined facework priotities in Danish and Spanish business negotiation”, in: EHLICH, K./ WAGNER, J. (eds): The Discourse of Business Negotiation, Berlin/New York, 291-312. WITTE, A./ HARDEN, T. (2011): Intercultural Competence. Concepts, Challenges, Evaluations, Bern. ZAJĄC, J. (2013): Specjalistyczna komunikacja multikulturowa i multilingwalna w korporacjach globalnych, Warszawa, IKL@ (Studia Naukowe 5). INTERNET SOURCES FANTINI, A.E. (2006): Exploring and assessing intercultural competence, http://digitalcollections. sit.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1001&context=worldlearning_publications accessed on 1st May 2015. HOOKER, J.N. (2008): Cultural Differences in Business Communication, http://web.tepper.cmu. edu/jnh/businessCommunication.pdf accessed on 4th December 2015.


AGNIESZKA DYLEWSKA (UNIWERSYTET ZIELONOGÓRSKI, ZIELONA GÓRA)

TRAMRÄUME UND RAUMTRÄME. DIE TRAUMHAFTE WIRKLICHKEIT IN DEN ROMANEN DER MOND UND DAS MÄDCHEN VON MARTIN MOSEBACH (2007) UND DISKRETE MOMENTE VON SIGRID BEHRENS (2007)

Space in dreams and dreams about space. Oneiric reality in Martin Mosebach’s novels Der Mond und das Mädchen (2007) and Sigrid Behrens’ Diskrete Momente (2007). Dreams and space are the two phenomena that play a crucial part in the construction of Martin Mosebach’s (2007) and Sigrid Behrens’ (2007) novels. The comparative analysis of these literary texts will present the literary creation of the oneiric worlds and their most important features in both novels. This article will emphasise two main problematic areas: the analysis of dreams from the perspective of anthropologic discourse and the analysis of dreams as an individualistic literary space created by the author. In the conducted analysis the relationship between the particular spaces of dreams and the dreaming protagonists will also be accentuated. KEYWORDS: dreams, space, oneiric world, literary anthropology

„[S]olange der Traum die Welt ist, erscheint er in der Regel noch gar nicht als Traum. Dazu wird er erst durch das Erwachen“ (D. Uslar 2003: 251). So verfolgt der vorliegende Beitrag das Ziel, die traumhafte Wirklichkeit in den Romanen Der Mond und das Mädchen von Martin Mosebach (2007) und Diskrete Momente von Sigrid Behrens (2007) einer Analyse zu unterziehen. Das Schwergewicht der Betrachtung liegt dabei in beiden Texten auf der Darstellung der traumhaften Welten und ihrer grundlegenden Merkmale. Es scheint legitim zu sein, das Traumphänomen sowohl vom Standpunkt des anthropologischen Diskurses darzustellen als auch als einen im literarischen Text inszenierten Raum zu analysieren. Die Eigenarten der Traumwelten sollen dabei näher veranschaulicht und ihre Figuren fokussiert werden. Betrachtet wird dabei ein besonderes Abhängigkeitsverhältnis zwischen den Traumzonen und ihren träumenden Protagonisten.

TRAMRÄUME UND RAUMTRÄME. DIE TRAUMHAFTE WIRKLICHKEIT…

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DAS PHÄNOMEN DES TRAUMES

Der Traum und das Träumen üben eine starke Faszination auf die Menschen jeder Epoche und jeder Kultur aus. Der Traum ist ein sonderbarer Bewusstseinszustand, der den Menschen entzückt und stimuliert, aber auch erschreckt und verstört. Der Träumende gerät in eine sonderbare Welt, in der die Naturgesetze nicht mehr zu gelten scheinen (W.R. Berger 2000: 7). Nebenbei ist eine besondere Stellung des Traumes zu betonen, denn er bildet ein Zwischenreich zwischen Natur und Kultur. Es ist Dietrich Engelhard zuzustimmen, wenn er sagt, dass die ganze Kultur als der Schlaf der Natur verstanden werden kann (D. Egelhardt 2006: 5). Als naturwissenschaftliches Phänomen wird der Traum auf „eine Erinnerung an die psychische Aktivität, die während des Schlafes stattfindet“ (M. Schredl 2006: 38), reduziert. Eine weitere neurowissenschaftliche Definition bezeichnet Träume als „Erlebnisse visuell-halluzinatorischer Art, die während des Schlafs wahrgenommen werden“ (D. Riemann 2007: 1240). Der philosophische Begriff des Traumes ist viel weiter gefasst. Der romantische Naturphilosoph Gotthilf Heinrich von Schubert hat in seiner Symbolik des Traumes (1813/1814) auf eine spezifische Traumsprache verwiesen, die aus der Dichtung, Musik und Malerei schöpft und die Vergangenheit, Gegenwart und Zukunft miteinander verbindet: Im Traume, und schon in jenem Zustande des Deliriums, der meist vor dem Einschlafen vorhergeht, scheint die Seele eine ganz andre Sprache zu sprechen als gewöhnlich. […] Solange die Seele diese Sprache redet, folgen ihre Ideen einem andern Gesetz der Assoziation als gewöhnlich, und es ist nicht zu leugnen, daß jene neue Ideenverbindung einen viel rapideren, geisterhafteren und kürzeren Gang oder Flug nimmt als die des wachen Zustandes, wo wir mehr mit unsern Worten denken. Wir drücken in jener Sprache durch einige wenige hieroglyphische, seltsam aneinandergefügte Bilder, die wir uns entweder schnell nacheinander oder auch nebeneinander und auf einmal vorstellen, in wenig Momenten mehr aus, als wir mit Worten in ganzen Stunden auseinanderzusetzen vermöchten (G.H. Schubert 1840: 6).

Darüber hinaus funktioniert der Traum als ein Medium, das verschlüsselte Botschaften vermittelt, indem es bestimmte Dinge und Zusammenhänge versinnbildlicht. René Descartes hielt dagegen den Traum für eine Dimension, die die Authentizität der menschlichen Wahrnehmung in Frage stellt. Mit seiner Vagheit, Undurchschaubarkeit und verzerrten Logik, die dem klaren Denken widerspricht, wird der Traum von Descartes als ein Irrtum, als eine Negation der Vernunft behandelt (P. Gehring 2008: 67). Mehrere Denker, wie etwa Schoppenhauer, haben die Philosophie als Traumtheorie wahrgenommen (W. Hogrebe 2000: 159). Für den französischen Lebensphilosophen Henri Bergson war der Traum ein besonderer Zustand des Erlebens und so postulierte der Denker die Gleichschaltung von Traumund Wachwahrnehmung (G. Pflug 1959: 219).

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Eine tiefenpsychologische Betrachtung des Traumes verdankt man in erster Linie dem Psychoanalytiker Sigmund Freud. Nach ihm eröffnet der Traum einen Zugang zu den bisher unentdeckten Schichten des Unterbewusstseins. Die Beschäftigung mit menschlichen Träumen und ihre Deutung, helfen, so Freud, menschliche Ängste und Traumata zu erklären. In seinem Werk Die Traumdeutung schrieb er, dass „[…] es eine psychologische Technik gibt, welche gestattet, Träume zu deuten, und daß bei Anwendung dieses Verfahrens jeder Traum sich als ein sinnvolles psychisches Gebilde herausstellt, welches an angebbarer Stelle in das seelische Treiben des Wachens einzureihen ist“ (S. Freud 2012: 1). Gleichzeitig verweist der Wissenschaftler auf die „Fremdartigkeit“ (S. Freud 2012: 1) und „Unkenntlichkeit“ (Freud 2012: 1) des Traumes. Nach dem Psychoanalytiker Carl Gustav Jung gehören Träume zu archetypischen Manifestationen, die allen Kulturen der Welt zugrunde liegen (C.G. Jung 311-327). Sie sind symbolbeladen, im kollektiven Unbewussten fest verankert, und „begleiten den Menschen bei den Wandlungen und Einstellungen, die das archetypische Programm von ihm fordert“ (H. Halstenbach 2009: 207). Der Reiz des Traumes hängt mit der Tatsache zusammen, dass er ein kompliziertes Netz von Bildern darstellt, die voller Bedeutung sind. Er bildet eine „Anderswelt“, in die der Mensch jede Nacht zurück kommt. Nebenbei gehört der Traum zum integralen Teil des menschlichen Lebens, weil er „mit Geburt, Tod und Zeugung, mit Schuld und Gericht und mit Sein und Nichts“ (D. Uslar 2003: 17) zu tun hat.

DER TRAUM IM LITERARISCHEN TEXT

Schon in den Ursprüngen der Literatur wurden Träume in literarische Texte integriert. In der antiken Literatur war der Traum als Motiv und als Handlungsträger von besonderer Bedeutung. In Homers Ilias werden die Träume von Göttern geschickt und von Protagonisten als wichtige Botschaften oder Prophezeiungen wahrgenommen (D. Engelhardt 2006: 6). Auch in der Bibel werden zahlreiche Träume der Propheten und der einfachen Menschen niedergeschrieben (D. Engelhardt 2006: 7). Die Träume, die in der Literatur der Neuzeit dargestellt werden, werden oft, so Dietrich von Engelhard, der Auffassung das Leben sei ein Traum, der Traum sei das Leben, untergeordnet (D. Engelhardt 2006: 10). In der Aufklärung diente die Einführung der Träume in literarische Texte vor allem einem didaktischen Zweck. Sie sollten, im Rahmen des didaktisch-erzieherischen Modells, menschliche negative Eigenschaften, wie Gier oder Eitelkeit, allegorisch darstellen und aufdecken (P.A. Alt 2002: 147). Von den Dichtern der Schwarzen Romantik wurde der Traum mit Tod, Gott, Ewigkeit und Unendlichkeit in Verbindung gebracht und als Träger des Unbekannten und Unheimlichen wahrgenommen. Ein breites Spektrum an Traumerscheinungen wie Tagträume, somnambule Zustände und hypnotische


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Visionen, wurden in dieser Unterströmung nicht nur literarisch, sondern auch anthropologisch behandelt (A. Vieregge 2008: 81). In der Literatur des 20. und 21. Jahrhunderts spiegeln Träume und Visionen die „existentiell[e] Ausgesetztheit“ (H.S. Daemrich / I. Daemrich 1995: 354), und die „Unberechenbarkeit des Lebens“ (H.S. Daemrich / I. Daemrich 1995: 354) wider. Die Forschung rückte das Traumphänomen in den Mittelpunkt des Interesses von Psychologen und Philosophen, Volkskundlern und Religionsforschern, Medizinern und schließlich auch Literaturwissenschaftlern. Tages- und Nachtträume, Traumdeutungen und – visionen werden in einem mimetischen Prozess literarisiert. Sie erscheinen deshalb in einem literarischen Text als Traumaufzeichnungen, Traumberichte und Traumprotokolle. Wegen der Verschwommenheit und Undurchschaubarkeit dieses Phänomens stößt die literarische Gestaltung des Traumes auf mehrere Schwierigkeiten. Die Ambivalenz und Mehrdeutigkeit der Traumdarstellung in der Literatur beruht darauf, dass der Traum einerseits als eine universelle Größe mit irrelevanten Strukturen erscheint, andererseits aber wird er auch historisch und kulturell geprägt. Darüber hinaus ist er ein individuelles und zugleich anthropologisches Phänomen (W.R. Berger 2000: 10). Als integraler Teil der conditio humana wird der Traum durch die gesellschaftlichen, historischen und kulturellen Sachverhalte bestimmt (W.R. Berger 2000: 9). Auch in den literarischen Träumen spiegeln sich Merkmale und Strukturen der jeweiligen Epoche wider. Es ist Wilhelm Richard Berger voll und ganz zuzustimmen, wenn er schreibt: „Die Träume, welche die Helden Homers oder der griechischen Tragödie träumen, sind andere als die Träume, denen wir in den mittelalterlichen Epen begegnen, und die Träume, die wir bei Jean Paul oder Gottfried Keller finden von den Träumen der Autoren des 20. Jahrhunderts“ (W.R. Berger 2000: 9). Auch Claire Gantet meint, dass die Sinnbestimmung des Traumes vom jeweiligen Kontext, Autor und Träger abhängt (C. Gantet 2010: 2). Darüber hinaus wird der Traum von vielen Schriftstellern in ihre literarischen Werke aufgenommen. Die Dichter setzen sich mit den Trauminhalten auseinander und versuchen sie zu verbalisieren und in literarische Traumtexte umzuwandeln. So werden literarische Träume zu einem großen Sammelsurium von Eindrücken und Erlebnissen des Traum-Ichs, von seinen Wünschen, Vorstellungen, Ängsten, Plänen und Projektionen. Peter-André Alt weist auf eine ganze Reihe von Zusammenhängen hin, in denen der Traum in der Literatur erscheint. Das Traumphänomen kann, so Alt „[als] Schauplatz eines metaphysischen Ordnungsanspruchs als Spielfeld dunkler, vernunftferner Mächte, als Theaterbühne für die Interaktion von Leib und Seele, als Arsenal einer okkulten, naturmagischen Gelehrsamkeit, als Spiegel geschlossener körperlicher Abläufe und als Magazin der sexuell beherrschten Kräfte des Unbewussten“ (P.A. Alt 2002: 9) gesehen werden. In Alts, von der Freudschen Traumlehre beeinflussten Auffassung, rückt die konstitutive Aufgabe des literarisch inszenierten Traumes in den Vordergrund: Der Traum soll einen Zugang zu den verborgenen Schichten der Persönlichkeit eines Individuums herstellen.

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Die Texte, die dem großen Reservoir der Traumliteratur entstammen, sind meistens Traumdarstellungen, die, um mit Monika Tempian zu sprechen, „keine unmittelbaren Träume nacherzählen, aber wie authentische Träume konstruiert sind; in ihrer Struktur und Funktionsvielfalt zeigen sich die zielgerichtete Verarbeitung von Traumanregungen, zugleich auch ihre Deutung durch die bewusste literarische Produktion“ (M. Tempian 2005: 7). Das Verhältnis von Traum, „schöpferischer Inspiration [und] künstlerischer Produktion als Autokatharsis und Konfliktsublimierung“ (B. Krüger 2009: 96), kommt dagegen in den Werken des Schriftstellers Franz Fühmann zum Ausdruck (B. Krüger 2009: 96). Der Traum erfüllt in literarischen Texten mehrere Funktionen. Zu den Formen seiner literarischen Vermittlung gehören, so Berger, die literarische Traumsituation, die literarische Traumsequenz und die literarische Traumeinkleidung (W.R. Berger 2000: 13). Unter der literarischen Traumsituation versteht Berger den träumenden Helden und seinen literarisch stilisierten Prozess des Träumens (W.R. Berger 2000: 14). Das in eine Traumsituation hineinversetzte Individuum wird dadurch zum Gegenstand der poetischen Abbildung. Mit der Traumsequenz ist der Inhalt des jeweiligen Traumes gemeint (W.R. Berger 2000: 18). Traumsequenzen dienen der Charakterisierung der Protagonisten und zugleich sind sie wichtige, motivische und strukturbildende Handlungselemente. Als „Einkleidung von poetischen Inhalten“ (W.R. Berger 2000: 18) bildet der Traum den Kompositionsrahmen eines ganzen Werkes. Man verwendet eine spezifische Art der Sprache, die dem Traum entlehnt ist (W.R. Berger 2000: 18). Die drei oben genannten Formen der literarischen Inszenierung des Traumphänomens haben zum Ziel, den Traum in all seiner Vielschichtigkeit darzustellen. Man kann wohl die Behauptung aufstellen, dass der Traum mit der Literatur in einem engen Zusammenhang steht, wobei der literarische Schöpfungsakt nicht selten mit der Kreation der traumhaften Wirklichkeit verglichen wird (M. Tempian 2005: 8). Aus der Verbindung von Traum und Literatur sind mehrere literarische Texte entstanden, die sowohl den Einblick in das menschliche Innere gewähren, als auch geschichtliche und kulturelle Ereignisse widerspiegeln.

DIE TRAUMHAFTE WIRKLICHKEIT

Der Raum im Traum hat spezifische Schauplätze, Dimensionen und Besonderheiten, die seinem „raumzeitlichen Kontinuum“ (R. Bossard 1991: 71) zugrunde liegen. Robert Bossard nennt acht grundlegende Merkmale, die für jede traumhafte Wirklichkeit gelten sollen. Die von Bossard analysierten Eigenschaften der traumhaften Welt lassen sich auf folgende Punkte zurückführen:


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1. Die Beeinflussung der Wirklichkeit durch die traumgestaltenden Kräfte: Triebe, Komplexe, ungelöste Probleme sowie archetypische Gestaltkräfte. 2. Eine besondere Stellung der traumhaften Welt als Projektion des Ichs. 3. Die Vergegenwärtigung: Das Traum-Ich agiert im präsenten Raum und in der präsenten Zeit. 4. Disproportioniertheit und Verschiebung der Perspektiven 5. Die Besetzung der Traumwelt mit unverhältnismäßigen Affekten, Gefühlen und Emotionen 6. Die Vorherrschaft des Bedrohlichen 7. Metamorphose als Traumprinzip 8. Starke Symbolgeladenheit (vgl. R. Bossard 1991: 71-91). Auch der Träumende hat seine eigene Traumwelt und diese traumhafte Wirklichkeit wird von dem Traum-Ich anders erlebt. Es ist Detlev von Uslar voll und ganz zuzustimmen, wenn er den Traum als eine Welt an sich behandelt. Uslar betont, dass der Traum als Welt „allen Raum“ (D. Uslar 2003: 251) und „alle Zeit“ (D. Uslar 2003: 251) beansprucht. Erst nach dem Erwachen verwandelt sich der Traum in erinnerte Bilder, die sich auf verschiedene Dinge, Personen oder Ereignisse aus der Lebensgeschichte des Träumenden beziehen (D. Uslar 2003: 251). Solange der Träumende aber nicht erwacht, nimmt er die Traumwelt als eine einzig geltende und unmittelbare Wirklichkeit wahr. Robert Bossard führt aus, dass „der Raum, wie er im Traum vorkommt, für das erlebende Traum-Ich zunächst so selbstverständlich [scheint] wie der Raum, den das Ich im wachen Zustand erlebt. Erst Analyse und Reflexion nehmen ihm diese Selbstverständigkeit“ (R. Bossard 1991: 71). Das Reich der Träume ist eine undurchschaubare und geheimnisvolle Zone, in der man zwischen dem Bewussten und dem Unbewussten, zwischen symbolbeladenen Bedeutungsbezügen und scheinbar einfachen Deutungsmöglichkeiten pendelt. Dies ergibt sich daraus, dass die geträumte Welt voll räumlicher und zeitlicher Gegensätze und Ungleichartigkeiten ist. Die Träume, die nicht selten die Realität durchdringen, bieten so viele Wirklichkeitsmodelle an, wie es Menschen gibt.

ZU DEN ROMANEN UND IHREN PROTAGONISTEN

Im Roman Der Mond und das Mädchen steht das frischvermählte junge Paar, Hans und Ina im Mittelpunkt. Hans, der allein für die Wohnungssuche verantwortlich ist, mietet ein Apartment im Frankfurter Bahnhofsviertel. Während Ina sich in der ungewohnten Umgebung zurecht zu finden versucht, gesellt sich ihr Mann zu einem Kreis von Hausbewohnern und Nachbarn, die sich fast jeden Abend im Hof des Mietshauses treffen. Von nun an wird Hans von mehreren Figuren, die ihn lenken, belehren und beeinflussen, umgeben und seine Ehe wird auf die Probe gestellt. Die

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beiden Hauptprotagonisten scheinen an höhere Mächte ausgeliefert zu sein. Hans erkundet eine neue, für ihn exotische Welt: Er genießt nächtliche Zusammentreffen im Hof, hört den Nachbarn und ihren wunderlichen Geschichten zu und wird von einem seltsamen Nachbarspaar verführt. Bei all dem bemerkt er nicht, dass seine Frau immer unglücklicher wird, und dass sie sich voneinander entfernen. Schließlich setzt Ina den Träumereien ihres Mannes verzweifelt ein Ende. Sie schlägt Hans während einer nachbarschaftlichen Zusammenkunft eine Bierflasche auf den Kopf und entreißt ihn damit seiner sonderbaren Entrückung. Im Roman Diskrete Momente spioniert die namenlose Ich-Erzählerin, die dem griechischen Traumgott Oneiros gleicht, während der „geschenkten Stunde“ (S. Behrens 2009: 29) das Nacht- und Traumleben der Figuren nach und dringt in ihre Träume und Wohnungen ein. Mittels der Bilder, Traumsequenzen und der Bewusstseinsstromtechnik wird von „diskreten Momenten“ der Protagonisten berichtet. Die Geschichte besteht aus mehreren einzelnen Biographien. Der Informatiker Robert speichert stundenlang detaillierte Berichte über seinen Tagesablauf auf dem Computer. Edith fürchtet sich vor der Dunkelheit und vor sich selbst. Sie übermalt den Bildschirm ihres Fernsehers, um ihr Spiegelbild nicht mehr sehen zu müssen. Der alte Adam trauert um seine verstorbene Frau. Sein einziger Freund und Gesprächspartner ist nur ein Kanarienvogel. Dora aus Ungarn wird von Heimweh geplagt. Der kleine Philipp fürchtet sich einzuschlafen, weil er dann von Alpträumen heimgesucht wird. Helene macht sich Gedanken über ihre Ehe, in der sie schon seit langem nicht mehr glücklich ist. Der ewige Pendler Karl arbeitet lieber als Zugschaffner, anstatt sich seinem Jurastudium zu widmen. Seine ständige Unruhe trägt dazu bei, dass er an der Liebe scheitert. Alle Figuren leben im Übergang, in der Zwischenzeit, in der Einsamkeit und in der Schlaflosigkeit. Ihre Ängste, Hoffnungen und Phantasien werden durch das Motivarsenal des Traumes zum Ausdruck gebracht.

TRAUMBILDER UND TRAUMSYMBOLE ALS KOMPONENTEN DER TRAUMÄHNLICHEN WIRKLICHKEIT

Die Präsenz der Symbole gehört zu einem zentralen Merkmal der von Visionen und Träumen geprägten Wirklichkeit (vgl. R. Bossard 1991: 71-91). Nach der Freudschen Traumdeutung können Bilder, Gedanken und Zeichen, die aus der archaischen Vorgeschichte der Menschheit stammen, im Traum in Erscheinung treten (W. Noack 2014: 22). Die archaischen Urbilder sollen, nach Freud, im tiefsten Unbewussten ihre Wurzeln haben. Die Bilder und Gegenstände im Traum erhalten ihren Symbolwert, wenn man sie mit den Symbolen aus den ältesten Sagen und Märchen vergleicht (T.D. Tommasa 2015: 99). In beiden Romanen hat die Zeit der Handlung eine symbolische Bedeutung. Im Roman Der Mond und das Mädchen spielt die Handlung im Sommer, vom Vollmond,


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wo der Mond als eine Lichtkugel erscheint, bis zum Neumond, der Nacht „in der das schwarze Loch des Weltalls den letzten feinen Rand des Mondes aufschluckte“ (M. Mosebach 2009: 178). Sowohl der Vollmond als auch der Neumond sind nur einen Tag zu sehen (R. Dahlke / M. Dahlke 2011: 189). Diese zwei astronomischen Erscheinungen bilden einen Rahmen für die erzählte Geschichte. Nicht zufällig werden im Titel der Mond und das Mädchen nebeneinandergestellt. In der Astrologie verkörpert der wandelbare Mond das seelische Prinzip und steht für alles Weibliche. Im Horoskop von Männern versinnbildlicht er die Rolle der Ehefrau. Schon im alten Volksglauben wurde dem Mond eine besondere Macht zugeschrieben. Nach der Volksüberlieferung war er imstande, menschliche Gefühle und Emotionen zu beeinflussen und „Irrwahn und Raserei, Krankheit, Tod und Trauer“ (G.F. Creuzer 1842: 569) mit sich zu bringen. Die Stimmungen und Launen der beiden Protagonisten werden vom Mond geprägt. Der junge Mann wird „mondsüchtig“: Er kann in der Nacht nicht schlafen, schleicht wie ein Schlafwandler aus der Wohnung, um an nächtlichen Zusammenkünften teilzunehmen und missachtet alle Zeichen, die das Unglück ankündigen. Auf Ina hat der abnehmende Mond ebenso einen starken Einfluss: Das Mädchen fühlt sich gereizt und unglücklich und glaubt dazu von merkwürdigen Visionen und Halluzinationen heimgesucht zu werden. Während der zwei Wochen, in denen der Mond abnimmt, gehen die Wege des jungen Paares auseinander. Hans wird immer entrückter, Ina entwickelt sich zur Frau, der klar wird, dass sie eigentlich noch nie gelebt hat. Das Verhältnis von Ina und Hans ändert sich nach dem Rhythmus des Mondes. Der Vollmond leuchtet den jungen Menschen als Liebenden, die voller Hoffnung und Freude ihre erste Wohnung beziehen, während des Neumondes ist ihre Beziehung beinahe in die Brüche gegangen. Zusätzlich wird die momentane Lebenssituation des jungen Paares symbolisch durch traumhaft anmutende Gegenstände angedeutet. Ina findet im Schlafzimmer der Wohnung eine tote Taube, die in den Rang des Unglücksboten erhoben wird. Hans fällt ein goldener Ehering in die Hände. Mit diesem ersetzt er seinen eigenen Trauring, den er während einer Liebesnacht mit der Nachbarin verloren hat. Im Traum gilt der Ring als Symbol für die Unlösbarkeit der Verbindung zwischen zwei Menschen (W. Noack 2014: 57). Indem Hans seinen Ehering, ein Sinnbild des Ehebundes verliert und einen falschen an den Finger steckt, betrügt er nicht nur seine Frau, sondern auch sich selbst. Die Zeit der Handlung im Roman Diskrete Momente wurde ebenfalls mit Absicht gewählt. Die Geschichte beginnt im Herbst, in der Nacht der Zeitumstellung von der Sommer- auf die Winterzeit. Die gewonnene Stunde bildet eine Zwischenzeit, in der alle Protagonisten zu schweben scheinen. Die Nacht wird zum konstitutiven Symbol des Romans, das leitmotivisch sieben Geschichten der Protagonisten miteinander verbindet. Nebenbei lässt die Nacht die Eigenschaften der Figuren näher hervortreten. Im Roman wird sie zum Raum der menschlichen Erfahrung. Sie schränkt die Bewegungsfreiheit der Protagonisten ein (K. Schenk-Mair 1997: 126),

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gleichzeitig aber umhüllt sie sie (K. Schenk-Mair 1997: 126) und motiviert zum Nachdenken. Als „Finsternis“ (H.S. Daemrich / I. Daemrich 1995: 260) und das „Schwinden des Lichts“ (H.S. Daemrich / I. Daemrich 1995: 260) wird die Nacht für Edith zum Sinnbild der Bedrohung. So versucht eine der weiblichen Protagonistinnen sich gegen die Nacht durch das künstliche Licht zu wehren, indem sie ihre ganze Wohnung illuminiert. Wie sie selbst konstatiert: „Elf Lichtquellen um mich herum. Sechzehn Glühbirnen in meiner Nähe. Mir kann nichts passieren“ (S. Behrens 2009: 51). Für den alten Adam bedeutet die Nacht Einsamkeit, die er nach dem Tod seiner Frau nicht bewältigen kann. Für Doris bringt die Nacht als Symbol der Vergänglichkeit die Angst vor dem Tod mit sich. Für weitere Protagonisten wird die Nacht zur Kulisse ihrer Reflexionen und für den kleinen Filip bildet sie einen Übergang ins Reich der Träume.

TRAUM UND SEINE VARIATIONEN

In den inszenierten Wirklichkeiten der beiden Romane erscheinen verschiedenartige Traumarten. Sie sollen in Bezug auf Analysenkategorien von Berger: die literarische Traumsituation, die literarische Traumsequenz und die literarische Traumeinkleidung (W.R. Berger 2000: 13-14) untersucht werden. Die Figuren sind in Träume verwickelt und können sich dem Einfluss der traumhaften Welt nicht entziehen. In jedem Roman erscheinen andere Traumformen, die die Handlung gestalten und den Einblick in das Innere der Protagonisten geben. In dem Buch Der Mond und das Mädchen spielt die literarische Traumeinkleidung, d.h. das aus Verhältnissen, Umständen und Situationen konstruierte Handlungsgerüst (W.R. Berger 2000: 13-14) eine wichtige Rolle. Der Roman bezieht sich auf den schon im 17. Jhd. bekannten Spruch, dass das menschliche Leben ein Traum ist (C. Gantet 2010: 1), in dem sich Wirklichkeit und Unwirklichkeit miteinander verweben. Nebenbei ließ sich der Autor des Romans von dem Stück Ein Sommernachtstraum von William Shakespeare (F. Gundolf 2012: 46) inspirieren. Die Rollen von Oberon, dem König der Elfen und dessen Frau Titania werden von der alten, in Damaskus geborenen Despina Mahmouni und dem Hausmeister Souad übernommen. Der Traumtänzer Hans wird, ohne es zu wissen, von ihnen manipuliert und an der Nase herumgeführt. Waldgeister, Elfen und Feen aus dem Sommernachtstraum finden ihre Darstellung in merkwürdigen Gestalten, die das Mietshaus bewohnen und die Hans auf seinem Weg trifft. Der schattige Wald bei Athen wird durch die von sommerlicher Hitze geplagten Stadt Frankfurt ersetzt. So wie in der shakespeareschen Komödie ist der Traum im Roman Der Mond und das Mädchen nicht nur das „Abbild eines Äußeren“ (F. Gundolf 2012: 46), sondern in erster Linie die „Verwirklichung eines Inneren“ (F. Gundolf 2012: 46). Die Protagonisten verfallen in Täuschungen. Ihre Sinneswahrnehmungen im


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Wachzustand sind ebenso täuschend und irreführend wie im Traum. Die Grenzen zwischen Traumvision und Realität verfließen und bizarre Bilder wechseln wie im Traum. Das junge Paar führt eine traumartige Existenz, die das Gleichgewicht zwischen Wahrheit und Lüge, Sein und Schein, Imagination und Realität in Frage stellt. Auch ihre eigene Beziehung wird von beiden jungen Eheleuten wie ein Traum wahrgenommen, in dem man von jeder Schuld und Verantwortung befreit ist. Eine grundlegende Bedeutung für die Handlung haben die Träume der Protagonisten, die ihre wankende Beziehung zum Ausdruck bringen. In beiden Traumsequenzen wird das Haus zur Traumkulisse. Eines Nachts hat Hans einen merkwürdigen Traum, in dem seine Nachbarn mit grotesken Maskenköpfen als Traumgestalten auftreten und ihn „immer weiter […] in den tiefen Schlaf hinein plauderte[n]“ (M. Mosebach 2009: 119). Man hat über den Sinn des Menschseins reflektiert. Vor dem inneren Auge des Schläfers treten unzählige Bilder. Die Szenen und Gesprächspartner von Hans wechseln wie in einem Kaleidoskop. Während dieser Traumseqenz wird dem Träumenden klar, dass seine Ehebeziehung gefährdet ist. In Inas realistischem Traum, in dem die junge Protagonistin nicht merkt, dass sie schläft, durchwandert sie ihre Wohnung: Als sie sie dann in Schlaf sank, merkte sie eine Weile nicht, dass sie träumte, denn sie durchwanderte auch mit zugefallenen Augen ihre Wohnung, öffnete die Türen und sah in die aufgeräumten Zimmer. Alles, was darin war erkannte sie als etwas Vertrautes oder gar selber Angeschaffenes und selber Aufgestelltes […]. So hübsch und mit leichter Hand dekoriert, wie sie in der Tageswirklichkeit erschien, erlebte sie auch die Wohnung des Traumes […]. Warum also war dies ein derart beunruhigender Traum? Figuren traten keine auf, es war nur ein Schweifen durch die renovierten Räume. Der Schrecken entstand auch nicht durch die Bilder, die der Traum zeigte, als vielmehr durch das Wissen der Schläferin, worum es sich bei diesen Räumen handelte (M. Mosebach 2009: 119).

Obwohl die Zimmer ihr auf den ersten Blick vertraut und gemütlich vorkommen, herrscht in den Räumen eine beunruhigende Atmosphäre, was den Traum zu einem „erschreckenden Traum“ (M. Mosebach 2009: 151) macht. Im Schlafzimmer angelangt, hört sie auf einmal eine Stimme sagen: „Dies ist das Haus des Teufels“ (M. Mosebach 2009: 151). Die Traumsymbolik steht in engem Zusammenhang zu Inas innerer Verfassung. Ausgehend von der in der Traumdeutung allgemein vertretenen These, das Haus steht für den Menschen selbst und verkörpert die eigene Persönlichkeit, die man sich aufgebaut habe (M. Fassen 2013: 121), symbolisiert die Traumwohnung aber das Innere der Protagonistin und den aktuellen Zustand ihres Bewusstseins. Indem die junge Frau durch die Zimmer wandert und die im Wachzustand erlebte Situation noch einmal durchlebt, ist sie gezwungen, sich mit ihrem Verhältnis zu Hans auseinanderzusetzen. Dieser klare und beängstigend realistische Träum trägt dazu bei, dass sich Ina völlig darin verliert. Der hohe Realitätsgrad des Traumes steht dabei im krassen Gegensatz zu der geheimnisvollen und erschütternden Botschaft, dass das Haus vom Teufel heimgesucht worden sei.

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Auffallend sind die Symbole der Leere, die in beiden Träumen auftreten. Im Traum von Hans wird der Mensch mit einer „leeren Flasche“ verglichen (M. Mosebach 2009: 118), und einem leeren, mit dem Besen gereinigten Haus (M. Mosebach 2009: 120) gleichgestellt. Auch in Inas Traumwohnung herrschte nur Leere und „Hoffnungslosigkeit“ (M. Mosebach 2009: 151): Hier gab es nichts, woran man in Verzweiflung noch hätte appellieren können, nichts, woran man hätte anknüpfen können. Keine Sprache war hier denkbar, mit der man sich hätte verständlich machen können, keine Konvention, keine Regel, keine Dauer. Hier zerfiel jeder Gedanke. Sehen konnte man das nicht. Da gab es nur eine schlecht geschnittene, neu geweißelte Wohnung. Aber einer, der wußte, wer hier wohnte, der erkannte eine Leere zwischen den hübschen Allerweltzimmern (M. Mosebach 2009: 151).

Bereits anhand dieses Zitats kann konstatiert werden, dass es in der Beziehung der beiden Protagonisten Defizite gibt und es an Kommunikation und Verständnis mangelt, was auch in den Träumen der jungen Menschen zum Ausdruck kommt. Die beiden Traumsituationen zeigen, dass sich schwerwiegende Probleme und unterdrückte Vorwürfe hinter der gemütlichen Fassade der Traumwohnung verstecken. Im Roman von Mosebach gibt es nicht nur die sogenannten „klassischen Träume“1, sondern auch Zustände, in denen sich die Protagonisten im „Stadium der traumhaften Entrückung“ (W. Steckel 1927: 485) befinden. Das Irreale des Lebens und dessen Flüchtigkeit wird durch die Halluzinationen, Tagträume, Illusionen und Schwärmereien betont. Inas Schlendern durch die Stadt, die mit der „Lebensreise“ verglichen wurde (M. Mosebach 2009: 181), ähnelt dem Herumirren einer Schlafwandlerin, die, zwar auf Reize scheinbar normal reagiert und komplizierte Aktivitäten durchführen kann, aber keine Emotionen und keine bewusste Wahrnehmung hat, und der das Erlebnis wie ein Traum vorkommt (A. Sattar 2011: 100): „Bei Ina wurden nun die Gedanken vom Gehen hervorgebracht. Wie sie voranschritt, leicht bergab inzwischen, an großen, vielbefahrenen Straßen entlang der Innenstadt zu, betrat sie auch in ihrer Phantasie neue Räume“ (M. Mosebach 2009: 181). Das Schweben zwischen dem Zustand des Träumens und des Wachens ermöglicht der Protagonistin über ihre eigene Person und ihre bisherigen Erfahrungen nachzudenken. Inas Wahrnehmungsfeld beschränkt sich dabei auf ihr tiefstes Inneres. Äußere Merkmale der Wirklichkeit werden dagegen von dem Mädchen außer Acht gelassen. Im Roman Diskrete Momente werden Situationen aus dem Alltag, Probleme und irritierende Erfahrungen von den Protagonisten nachts verarbeitet. Die Hausbewohner entrücken in einen sonderbaren Zustand zwischen Wachen und Schlafen: „Ich denke in Bildern hast du gesagt. Vielleicht hast du recht, doch du schläfst. Vielleicht schlafe 1 Klassische Träume sind REM-Träume, die aus lebhaften und bilderreichen Erinnerungen aus dem REM-Schlaf bestehen (vgl. M. Schredl 2008: 10).


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auch ich, doch ich fürchte nein“ (S. Behrens 2009: 91). In diesem sonderbaren Zustand werden sie von nächtlichen Hirngespinsten geplagt. Die Traumsphäre des Romans setzt sich aus Gedanken, Erinnerungen, Selbstgesprächen und Phantasien der Figuren zusammen, die die persönlichen Vorgänge und Lebenssituationen der Figuren widerspiegeln. Das charakteristische Merkmal der literarischen Traumeinkleidung liegt darin, dass Protagonisten die Sprache des Traumes sprechen, oder so denken, wie man es im Traum tut. Für diese „Pseudosprache“ (W.R. Berger 2000: 40), wie Berger die im Traum verwendete Sprache nennt, ist „ein gleichsam freies Schweben der Worte“ charakteristisch. Seinen Worten nach, wird die Traumrede zu einem „quasi syntaktisch gegliederte[n] Murmeln“ (W.R. Berger 2000: 40), in dem „nicht der abstrakte Wortsinn, sondern die sinnliche Klanggestalt dominiert“ (W.R. Berger 2000: 40). In Anlehnung an Berger kann man feststellen, dass die Sprache der Figuren sich zu einer Traumsprache entwickelt: Sie ist unklar und verworren, pendelt zwischen Sinn und Unsinn und die Sätze, die die Protagonisten produzieren, bleiben unbeendet: „-der Vater der-fragt-was-tut er was-ist sein Beruf wie passt-das-zu-meiner klugen-Tochter-ich sage er-spricht-ich sage- Papa wie du sa voix wie-du-er-spricht-Nachrichten er-sendet-Neuigkeiten durch-die allierte-ja ein Deutscher ja ein Guter er- liebt Worte so-wie du-und ja doch-ja-wir wollen-bleiben zusammen[…]“ (S. Behrens 2009: 91). Sechs erwachsene Protagonisten befinden sich „im Zwischenstand“ (S. Behrens 2009: 24), im Stadium „jenseits des Traums“ (S. Behrens 2009: 24) und in der „Zwischenzeit“, die ihnen die zusätzliche Stunde schenkt. Ein einziger Mensch, der wirklich schläft ist ein kleiner Junge. Im Schlaf verarbeitet das Kind Erlebnisse, die es emotional belasten. Es kommt zum Wiedererleben seiner traumatischen Erfahrungen. In seinem Traum erlebt der Junge aufs Neue böse Streiche seiner Schulkameraden, versucht nach Hause zu kommen und hat Angst vor dem Mann aus der Nachbarwohnung, der ihn verfolgt. In dieser Traumsequenz kommen die für die traumhafte Wirklichkeit charakteristischen Merkmale vor. Der Alltag verwebt sich mit surrealistischen Begebenheiten. Der Junge wird in sinnlose Dialoge, bizarre Situationen und sonderbare Handlungsabläufe verwickelt: Er kann sich nicht vom Fleck rühren, obwohl er sich bewegen will, steigt in das über dem Esstisch hängende Familienfoto und beobachtet Gegenstände und Räume, die einer Metamorphose unterliegen: /Ich stehe in der Wohnung, in der Eltern früher gewohnt haben. Mama mit dem Weinglas in der Hand, Papa prostet ihr zu. Ich bin in das Photo gestiegen, das über dem Esstisch hängt, jetzt bin ich drin und kann mich durch die Zimmer bewegen. Die Wohnung ist noch größer, als wenn Mama davon erzählt. Papa zeigt mir ein Zimmer, das ist deines, sagt er, gefällt es dir. Es ist zu groß. Ich gehe ans Fenster und kann nichts sehen. Das Fenster, sage ich zu Papa, was habt ihr gemacht. […] Ich will das Licht anmachen, doch die Schalter sind weg/ (S. Behrens 2009: 91).

Das Traumgeschehen ist aus zahlreichen Bildern zusammengewoben, was seinen Sequenzencharakter zusätzlich betont. In der Bildserie ist der Traum fast

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naturalistisch getreu und auf einmal wird die Verknüpfung von Bildsequenzen unlogisch und verwirrend. Die Welt des Romans ähnelt einem luziden Traum2, in dem nur der Erzählerin bewusst ist, dass sie träumt. Sie ist imstande, sich im Raum ihres Traumes zu bewegen, ohne die physikalischen Gesetze zu beachten: Sie kann in der Luft schweben, durch die Wände gehen und blitzschnell Orte wechseln. Die Bewohner des Hauses scheinen die Figuren ihres Klartraumes zu sein, die sie nach Belieben sprechen, träumen oder handeln lässt. Die Erzählerin spielt mit ihnen, erträumt ihre Charaktere und ihre Biographien.

HÄUSER ALS TRAUMRÄUME

Das Haus im Roman Der Mond und das Mädchen ist ein altes Gebäude aus der Restaurationszeit im schäbigen Wohnviertel Frankfurts. Der junge Protagonist ist schon von Anfang an vom Haus fasziniert und fühlt sich zu diesem Gebäude magisch hingezogen. Zwischen dem jungen Mann und dem heruntergekommenem Bauwerk besteht eine spezifische Wechselbeziehung. In diesem Zusammenhang scheint die Entscheidung des Protagonisten, in diesem Haus leben zu wollen, nicht zufällig zu sein, denn nach der modernen Traumdeutung sollen die Fassade, die Bauart des Hauses, die Persönlichkeit, die Selbsteinschätzung, aber auch die Phantasien des Träumers widerspiegeln (A. Teillard 1944: 70-71). Das Innere des Hauses besteht aus unzähligen Gängen, Winkeln und Fluren. Sein Herz bildet der Innenhof, der zur Schaubühne der Meinungen, fixen Ideen und Wahnvorstellungen der sich allabendlich dort versammelnden Gesellschaft wird. Das Traumhafte des Hauses wird durch die Tatsache betont, dass es sich als Objekt im Traum verhält. Robert Bossard hat auf eine qualitative Eigenschaft des Raumes im Traum verwiesen, nach der seine Objekte von dem Träumenden ganz anders als im Wachzustand wahrgenommen werden. Seinen Worten nach, erscheinen gewisse Objekte im disproportionierten Raum des Traumes extrem groß und andere unverhältnismäßig klein (R. Bossard 1991: 78). Es kommt vor, dass Objekte aus dem Blickfeld des Träumenden ganz verschwinden. So glaubt Ina eines Tages, dass die vom Hausfenster aus gesehene Waschanlage spurlos verschwunden ist. Auch Hans wird in einen traumhaften Raum des nächtlichen Hauses hineingezogen: Es war im Mondlicht, wie wenn man bei einer Kerze sitze, die den Gegenständen einige Lichter aufsetzte und sie im Übrigen ins Dunkel übergehen ließ. Man ahnte die Massen und Körper nur noch, die sich in eigensinniges Schwarz zurückgezogen. Das machte die Räume kleiner und größer zugleich. Plötzlich war [Hans] zumute, als habe er einen Raum 2 Unter Klarträumen (auch luzide Träume genannt) versteht man Träume, in denen dem Träumer bewusst ist, dass er träumt (Hinrichs 2014: 139).


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im eigenen Körper betreten, der groß war, dessen Grenzen sich nicht abschätzen ließen, und der dennoch etwas von einer Höhle hatte. In dieser dunklen Höhle war es zu den Gesprächen des späten Abends gekommen, die so ungewohnt für ihn waren, aber die ihm zugleich ein Gefühl geben, in der Wohnung, die er gemietet hatte, schon längst zu Hause zu sein (M. Mosebach 2009: 46).

In dem bereits zitierten Abschnitt kommt eine enge Korrelation zwischen archetypischen Bildern von Körper, Haus und Höhle zum Ausdruck. Die Darstellung des Hauses als eines privaten und schützenden Raumes wird durch die Körpermetaphorik zusätzlich betont und knüpft auch an die moderne Traumlehre an: In der Traumdeutung versinnbildlicht das Haus den menschlichen Körper. Die einzelnen Hausbereiche stehen für entsprechende Körperteile und für die menschliche Persönlichkeitsstruktur (A. Teillard 1944: 71-72). Nebenbei erscheint das Haus in seiner Vorform als Höhle, die Urwohnung der Menschen, als ein Ort der Geborgenheit und Sicherheit und als eine „Zufluchtsstätte“ (G. Pössiger 2005: 142). Die Ambivalenz des Hauses als des traumhaft-realistischen Raumes resultiert aus der unterschiedlichen Einstellung der Hauptprotagonisten zu dem Gebäude. Während Hans sich von Anfang an im Haus wohlfühlt und sein magisches Ambiente genießt, wird es für Ina zum Ort des Grauens. In ihrer Phantasie nimmt sie es als ein lebendiges Wesen wahr, das sie abstößt und sie ihres Lebenswillens und ihrer Hoffnungen beraubt. Sie sah sich dem Haus hilflos ausgeliefert: „Sie hatte um diese Folge des Zimmer regelrecht geworben, hatte sie sich anverwandeln wollen, und jetzt sah sie, dass sich die Wohnung zu wehren begann und sie abschuppte wie eine abgestorbene Substanz“ (M. Mosebach 2009: 179). Im Roman Diskrete Momente wird der Wohnblock schon in den ersten Zeilen von der allgegenwärtigen Metaerzählerin sprachlich konstruiert: Es ist Nacht. Ich baue ein Haus. Ich stelle es vor mein Fenster, damit ich es genau anschauen kann. Es ist ein großes Haus, es hat viele Stockwerke und ein flaches Dach, es ist nicht sehr schön, es ist nicht sehr alt. Bei Tag behält es das Sonnenlicht für sich, schluckt es stumm in seine dumpfen Mauern und schließ es ein, ohne dass sich die Farbe des Hauses verändern würde; bei Nacht verschmilzt es mit der fahlen Dunkelheit und lässt die Fenster stehen, wie aufgehängt im vor dunklem Grund (S. Behrens 2009: 7).

Von Anfang an ist klar, dass es sich um ein imaginäres Haus handelt, das in der Phantasie der namenlosen Erzählerin existiert. Das Haus ist ein anonymes Gebäude, das seinen Bewohnern ihre Individualität raubt. Wegen der Enge der identischen Wohnungen ist es kaum möglich, die Zimmer nach eigenem Belieben einzurichten. Der Innenraum des Hauses ist kühl und standartgemäß eingerichtet. Er strahlt eine beklemmende Stimmung aus. Das entindividualisierte Mietshaus ist eine Schaubühne für „diskrete Momente“ (S. Behrens 2007) aus dem Leben der Protagonisten. Das Gebäude lässt sich von der Erzählerin nach Belieben umgestalten, manche Bauelemente entstehen ihrem Wunsch gemäß und manche werden unsichtbar.

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Die Metamorphosen, denen die Struktur des Raumes unterliegt, erfolgen nach der verkehrten Logik, die in der realen Welt nicht vorhanden ist. Die merkwürdigen Eigenschaften des Hauses weisen darauf hin, dass es den Gesetzen unterliegt, die für den Raum im Traum typisch sind. Die Störungen im Raum tragen dazu bei, dass sich das Haus in einen surrealen, transitorischen Ort zwischen der sicheren Wirklichkeit und dem beunruhigenden Universum der Träume und Phantasien verwandelt. In diesem Zusammenhang widerspricht die literarische Darstellung des Bauwerkes der gängigen Wahrnehmung des Hauses als eines schützenden Raumes. In beiden Werken werden die Häuser zu Zentren, die alle traumhaften Erlebnisse der Protagonisten fokussieren. Sie fungieren als Lebensräume der Träumenden und bilden zugleich eine gewisse Zwischenwelt, die sich an der Grenze von Traum und Realität befindet.

RESÜMEE

Im Zentrum der Romane Der Mond und das Mädchen von Martin Mosebach und Diskrete Momente von Sigrid Behrens stehen Träume und ihre literarische Vermittlung. Die Autoren spielen mit literarischen Traumfigurationen und weisen ihnen verschiedenartige Funktionen zu. In beiden Romanen ist eine ambivalente Traumdarstellung sichtbar: Zum einem fungiert der Traum als Gegenentwurf zur Wirklichkeit, zum anderen dient er der Wirklichkeitserfahrung. Sowohl in Der Mond und das Mädchen als auch in Diskrete Momente befinden sich die Protagonisten im Bann des Traumes. Das Schicksal des jungen Paares, Ina und Hans, wird von einer Reihe eigentümlicher Ereignisse bestimmt. Die Eheleute werden zu Akteuren in einer Sommernachtstraum-Phantasmagorie und spielen dabei in ihrem privaten Traumtheater. Die Protagonisten des Romans Diskrete Momente zeigen die Innenausstattung ihrer Psyche und stellen „im Zwischenstand“ ihre persönlichsten Gedanken, Projektionen und Erlebnisse zur Schau. Die in den beiden Werken inszenierten traumhaften Wirklichkeiten weisen alle von Robert Bossart erwähnten Merkmale des Traumuniversums auf: 1. Das Denken und Handeln der Protagonisten ist von beklemmenden Ängsten, Konflikten, Phantasmen und nicht verarbeiteten oder verdrängten Problemen geprägt, die für traumhafte Sachverhalte typisch sind. 2. Jedes Ich konstruiert seine eigene Traum-Welt. Die literarisch kreierten Traumwelten (die literarischen Traumsituationen mit ihren Traumsequenzen) werden aus mehreren für das jeweilige Traum-Ich typischen Perspektiven präsentiert. 3. Alle Träume werden im präsenten Raum und in der präsenten Zeit dargestellt. 4. Die Disproportioniertheit, Verschiebung und Verdichtung der Perspektiven gehören zu grundlegenden Komponenten der Raumgestaltung. Die logischen


5.

6.

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Grenzen von Zeit und Raum werden aufgehoben. Auch die in beiden Romanen literarisch inszenierten Häuser werden durch den Traum beeinflusst. Die Bauwerke zeichnen sich durch eine besondere Eigenschaft aus: Sie existieren auf zwei Ebenen, der realen und der traumhaften. Wenn die beiden Wirklichkeiten ineinander übergehen, spielen die Gebäude die Rolle der Indikatoren für Traumerscheinungen. Nebenbei entpuppen sich die Häuser als Kulissen der Traumvisionen, Tagträume und sinnestäuschenden Halluzinationen der Protagonisten. So werden sie zu Orten der Trugbilder, der Phantome, der Phantasmen und der Schatten. Die beiden analysierten Traumwirklichkeiten zeichnen sich durch eine überdimensionale Fokussierung auf Affekte, Gefühle und Emotionen aus. Angst, Scham, Schuld, Wut und andere Gefühlsregungen werden in den literarisch inszenierten Traumzuständen oder in den traumähnlichen Situationen mit besonderer Intensität empfunden und erlebt. Die Selbstwahrnehmung der Protagonisten wird durch Häuser als traumhafte Räume zusätzlich geprägt. Das Bedrohliche ist immer präsent. Die Protagonisten setzen sich mit eigenen Wahnvorstellungen und Hirngespinsten auseinander. Das Gefühl der Angst und Beklemmung resultiert sowohl aus der Verwirrtheit und aus dem Dämmerzustand als auch aus der Klarheit des Bewusstseins. Die Konfrontation mit dem Grauenhaften oder eine Annäherung an das Unheimliche werden zum integralen Bestandteil der Handlungen. Die Metamorphose wird zum Faktor, der sowohl die Handlung als auch die Figuren bestimmt. Die Realität und der Traum vermischen und trennen sich in dauerndem Wechsel. Der Raum zeigt sich dabei als kein konstanter Faktor. So werden die literarisch konstruierten Häuser nicht nur zu Orten des traumähnlichen Geschehens und zu Handlungsräumen der Fiktion, sondern sie erscheinen auch als Orte der Sinnestäuschungen und verhalten sich wie Objekte im Traum: Sie können sich bewegen, ausdehnen oder gar verschwinden. Nebenbei verwandeln sich die ursprünglich als Stätten der Geborgenheit und Gemütlichkeit wahrgenommenen Gebäude in Orte der Bedrohung, des Traumas und der Einsamkeit. Das Prinzip der Metamorphose erstreckt sich auch auf die literarischen Figuren. Die Protagonisten des Romans Diskrete Momente verändern sich in der geschenkten nächtlichen Stunde: Sie nehmen ihre Masken ab, zeigen ihre Schwachstellen, kämpfen mit ihren Phantasmagorien und setzen sich mit ihren Illusionen auseinander. Auch Ina und Hans aus Der Mond und das Mädchen unterliegen einer inneren Metamorphose. Sie werden sich all ihrer Schwächen, Fehler und der zwischen ihnen bestehenden Unterschiede bewusst. Ihre Verwandlung erfahren sie durch den Prozess der Selbstfindung. In den beiden Romanen kommen Symbole und symbolische Bilder in mehreren Traumsequenzen zum Ausdruck. Ihre Rolle beruht darauf, dass sie die Welt der Realität mit der der Träume verbinden. Sie lassen vertraute Dinge in einem neuen

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Licht erscheinen und dienen der Deutung der Geschehnisse (sie überbringen verschlüsselte Botschaften). Andererseits aber tragen sie dazu bei, dass die Wirklichkeit defragmentiert und das Bekannte verfremdet wird. Die fragmentarischen Szenen aus dem Leben der Figuren, sowie chaotische Erinnerungen und alogische innere Monologe gleichen Traumprotokollen und bilden ein Gerüst für die literarische Traumeinkleidung (W.R. Berger 2000: 13). Die in beiden Romanen kreierten Welten sind von Illusionen des Traumes durchdrungen. In symbolischer Verhüllung offenbaren die Traumwelten das Bild des modernen Menschen, eines Träumers, der an sich selbst scheitert.

LITERATUR ALT, P.A. (2002): Der Schlaf der Vernunft: Literatur und Traum in der Kulturgeschichte der Neuzeit, München. BERGER, W.R. (2000): Der schlafende Held. Untersuchungen zum Traum in der Literatur, Göttingen. BOSSARD, R. (1991): „Der Raum im Traum“, in: ZWEIG, A. (ed.): Zum Symbolik des Herzens und des Raumes, Bern / Frankfurt / Main / New York, S. 71-91. CREUZER, G.F. (1840): Symbolik und Mythologie der alten Völker, besonders der Griechen, in Vorträgen und Entwürfen, Bd. 2, Leipzig / Darmstadt. DAEMRICH, H.S. / DAEMRICH, I.G. (1995): Themen und Motive der Literatur. Ein Handbuch, Tübingen. DAHLKE, R. / DAHLKE, M.S. (2011): Die Lebensprinzipien: Wege zu Selbsterkenntnis, Vorbeugung und Heilung, München. ENGELHARDT, D. (2006): „Traum im Wandel-Geschichte und Kultur“, in: WIEGAN, M.H. (ed.): Schlaf und Traum. Neurobiologie, Psychologie, Therapie, Stuttgart, S. 5-16. FASSEN, M. (2013): Methodik der Traumdeutung, Norderstedt. FREUD, S. (2012=1900): Die Traumdeutung, Bremen. GANTET, C. (2010): Der Traum in der Frühen Neuzeit. Ansätze zu einer kulturellen Wissenschaftsgeschichte, Berlin / New York. GEHRING, P. (2008): Traum und Wirklichkeit: zur Geschichte einer Unterscheidung, Frankfurt am Main. GUNDOLF, F. (2012=1927): Shakespeare und der deutsche Geist, Paderborn. HALSTENBACH, H. (2007): Jung‘sche Psychologie: zur Atemlehre von Cornelis Veening, Norderstedt. HINRICHS, R. (2014): Psychoanalytische Ausbildungsinhalte: Ein Kompendium für Kandidaten, Berlin. HOGREBE, W. (2000): „Göttliche Träume. Bemerkungen zu Schelling“, in: BOOTHE, B. (ed.): Der Traum – 100 Jahre nach Freuds Traumdeutung, Zürich, S. 159-178. JUNG, C.G. (1967): „Vom Wesen der Träume“, in: Gesammelte Werke, Olten, S. 311-327. KRÜGER, B. (2009): „Ich bin nicht in allem ein orthodoxer Freudianer. Franz Fühmann, Freud, C.G. Jung und die Träume“, in: PEITSCH, H. / LEZZ, E. (eds.): Literatur, Mythos und Freud: Kolloquium zu Ehren von Prof. Dr. Elke Liebs, Potsdam, S. 98-102. NOACK, W. (2014): Träume, die das Leben deuten: Grundlagen einer wissenschaftlichen Traumdeutung, Berlin. PFLUG, G. (1959): Henri Bergson. Quellen und Konsequenzen einer induktiven Metaphysik, Berlin. PÖSSIGER, G. (2005): Traumbuch: Träume deuten und verstehen; [mit Lexikon der Traumbegriffe], Baden-Baden.


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RIEMANN, D. (2007): „Träume“, in: PETER, H./ PENZEL, T./ HERMANN, P.J. (eds.): Enzyklopädie der Schlafmedizin, Heidelberg, S. 1240-1243. SATTAR, A. (2011): Was ist Bewusstsein, Berlin. SCHENK-MAIR, K. (1997): Die Kosmologie Eugen Finks: Einführung in das Denken Eugen Finks und Explikation des kosmischen Weltbegriffs an den Lebensvollzügen des Schlafens und Wachens, Würzburg. SCHREDL, M. (2006): „Experimentell-psychologische Traumforschung“, in: WIEGAN, M.H. (ed.): Schlaf und Traum. Neurobiologie, Psychologie, Therapie, Stuttgart, S. 37-67. SCHREDL, M. (2008): Traum, München. STEKEL, W. (1927): Die Sprache des Traumes, München. SCHUBERT, G.H. VON (1840): Die Symbolik des Traumes, Leipzig. TEILLARD, A. (1944): Traumsymbolik; ein Traumbuch auf tiefenpsychologischer Grundlage, Zürich. TEMPIAN, M. (2005): „Ein Traum, gar seltsam schauerlich...“ Romantikerbschaft und Experimentalpsychologie in der Traumdichtung Heinrich Heines, Göttingen. TOMMASA, T.D. (2015): Rituale im Alltag, Norderstedt. USLAR, D. (2003): Tagebuch des Unbewussten: Abenteuer im Reich der Träume, Würzburg. VIEREGGE, A. (2008): Nachtseiten. Die Literatur der Schwarzen Romantik, Frankfurt am Main/ Berlin/ Bern.


WANDA FIJAŁKOWSKA (UNIWERSYTET WARSZWSKI, WARSZAWA)

LA DÉRIVATION PAR ÉCHANGE DE PRÉFIXES EN TANT QUE PROBLÈME DE RECHERCHE EN LINGUISTIQUE CONTRASTIVE

The derivation through exchange of prefixes (DEP) has been acknowledged as an autonomic derivation technique in Polish only in 2003, and first described in 2010. In French linguistics, it is unknown. However an analysis of semantic and word formation structure confirms its existence. The contrastive research on this derivation technique, extended to the recent (2006-2015) derivatives, will eventually result in its more precise description and a classification of its products. Recognizing the DEP will lead to a rearrangement of the whole word formation system, among other things, because many derivatives thus formed were treated as simply prefixed ones. The comparison of how the DEP functions in nonrelated languages will bring us closer to an answer to the question: Can the semantic regularities of the DEP and its rules be universal for the indo-European languages? KEYWORDS: derivation, verb, (word-formation) basis, prefix, paraphrase

La dérivation par échange de préfixes est encore loin d’avoir obtenu les droits de cité dans les descriptions morphologiques du polonais. Dans la seconde édition de Morfologia, de 1998, l’on ne trouve même pas une mention générale de ce phénomène, tout comme dans System słowotwórczy polszczyzny (1945-2000) (Jadacka 2001). Pour qu’il y ait progrès dans la reconnaissance de cette technique dérivative, il n’a pas suffi de deux mentions faites par Mirosław Skarżyński dans deux œuvres, écrites dans la même période: Słowotwórcze gniazda odczasownikowe (charakterystyka wstępna) (Skarżyński 2003) et le Wstęp (Introduction) au IIIe vol. du Słownik gniazd słowotwórczych współczesnego języka ogólnopolskiego (Skarzyński 2004). Dans Kultura języka polskiego. Fleksja, słowotwórstwo, składnia de Hanna Jadacka (Jadacka 2005) fut déjà consacré à cette notion et à ce terme un certain nombre de phrases, complétées par quelques exemples1.

1 Les chercheurs étudiant la formation de mots en synchronie connaissent et citent l’article devenu classique de B. Kreja Pojęcie derywacji wymiennej [Kreja B. 1963], mais cet ouvrage scrute le problème du point de vue historique et ne traite que des opérations faites sur les suffixes.

LA DÉRIVATION PAR ÉCHANGE DE PRÉFIXES…

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Une caractéristique approximative de cette méthode, encore insuffisamment reconnue, n’apparaît qu’avec l’article de Joanna Stankiewicz Wymiana prefiksów w derywacji odczasownikowej (na materiale gniazdowym) (Stankiewicz 2006). Un progrès considérable s’est produit avec la thèse de doctorat de Michał Wiśnicki, Derywacja prefiksalna wymienna w czasownikach polskich (na materiale gniazdowym) (Wiśnicki 2010), annoncée par l’article Derywacja prefiksalna wymienna czasowników polskich w świetle danych gniazdowych (Wiśnicki 2009). Inspiré par la monographie historique de Witold Śmiech (Śmiech 1986), encouragé par les observations de M. Skarżyński, armé d’appareil de recherche élaboré pour la description synchronique, dont l’élément le plus important fut la paraphrase dérivationnelle2, Wiśnicki a accumulé un matériel polonais (1290 verbes) venant de diverses sources, et l’a ensuite soumis à une analyse structurale profonde, détaillée et exhaustive. Elle comprend la liste des formants, l’établissement de leurs fonctions et le décompte de leur participation quantitative aux processus de formation de mots qui ont pour effet l’apparition de dérivés par échange de préfixes. La description formelle fut complétée par cet auteur par un classement sémantique éclairé des lexèmes qui entrent en composition de l’ensemble étudié. Le schéma de ce classement fut emprunté à Henryk Wróbel, mais il fut traité avec un esprit ouvert, et modifié sous quelques points importants. M. Wiśnicki a proposé la définition suivante du phénomène observé: «la dérivation par échange de préfixes tient à enlever le préfixe de base d’un verbe accompli (morphologiquement divisible) et à le remplacer par un autre préfixe pour former un verbe accompli dérivé» (Wiśnicki 2010: 44). Les descriptions morphologiques traditionnelles se sont formées sous l’influence puissante de la suggestion formelle, qui fait diriger notre attention seulement vers le préfixe ajouté, et fait oublier l’élément qui est effacé en surface, présent de manière immanente dans la structure sémantique du dérivé, héritée de sa base. Pour que l’analyse de tels dérivés puisse se faire correctement, ils doivent contenir un préfixe, saillant en synchronie, qui désigne une action accomplie, tout comme le composant analogique de la base. Ce n’est que dans ces conditions-là que la paraphrase «dénonce» effectivement une aberration formelle. Il convient de souligner le rôle de la paraphrase susmentionnée dans la détection des préfixes de la base qui n’entrent pas dans la composition du dérivé. Seulement une définition morphologique de cette sorte peut fournir des preuves que ces exposants invisibles en surface sont de toute évidence des composants des bases, et sont échangés pour les préfixes des verbes nouvellement formés. Une paire de lexèmes de cette sorte, les deux étant des dérivés, est présentée ainsi (dans le SGS): 2 La définition la plus connue de cette notion est celle de Morfologia [Morfologia 1998: 371]: «une expression construite de plusieurs mots, sous forme de définition, et ayant la même signification que le nom paraphrasé, où l’on a utilisé le mot-base» [trad. WF].

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BUDOWAĆ z-budować V,V (verbe déverbal) prze-budować V, V, V (verbe motivé par un verbe déverbal)3 Les crochets pointus constituent une trace formelle du préfixe supprimé, rendu évident par la paraphrase: ‘bâtir autrement’, ‘changer qch. de déjà bâti’. Les faits établis rassemblés dans la monographie de M. Wiśnicki permettent de percevoir la dérivation par échange de préfixes comme technique importante, autonome, engagée systématiquement et avec une grande intensité dans la création de verbes accomplis polonais. In convient de rappeler qu’il en fut autant avec les autres techniques dérivatives non suffixales. Le chaos des notions et termes concernant la conversion4 ne fut maîtrisé que passé 1993, c’est-à-dire après la parution de la thèse de Krystyna Waszakowa Słowotwórstwo języka polskiego. Rzeczowniki z formantami paradygmatycznymi. Son importance fut exprimée le mieux par M. Skarżyński: (…) entre l’année 1964 (l’article de Laskowski et de Wrobel) et 1993 (le livre de Waszakowa), les idées sur le rôle et l’étendue de la conversion ont ostensiblement évolué: on a cessé de la percevoir en tant que relevant de la marge du système dérivationnel. (Skarżyński 1999: 122)

Douze ans plus tard, la même constatation a pu se faire sur la troncation. Ce progrès est dû à la publication de la monographie d’Iwona Kaproń-Charzyńska Derywacja ujemna we współczesnym języku polskim. Rzeczowniki i przymiotniki (Kaproń-Charzyńska 2005). L’auteur y a défini avec précision la technique dérivative titre, en a défini l’étendue, et a fermement tracé la frontière entre elle et la conversion. Un des résultats obtenus des plus importants fut de situer hiérarchiquement la troncation parmi les procédures de formation de mots du polonais. Si l’on peut dire en toute responsabilité de la conversion décrite par Waszakowa et, pareillement, de la troncation telle que l’a présentée Kaproń-Charzyńska, qu’elle n’est plus regardée comme restant en marge du système dérivationnel, il faut dire de la dérivation par échange de préfixes que, grâce à Wiśnicki, on a commencé à la traiter en partie importante de ce système. La littérature morphologique française ne consacre à cette manière de former des dérivés même pas une mention en passant. Ni les recueils et manuels français importants publiés le long de vingt dernières années, ni les articles faisant date à cette époque, tels (Dal 1997; Kerleroux 1999; Bogacki 1999; Apothéloz 2002; Corbin/ Corbin/ Temple 2004; Fradin 2003; Fradin/ Kerleroux/ Plénat 2009), n’en SGS, vol. III, 1e partie, p. 54. Les termes appliqués furent ceux de dérivation désintégrante, flexionnelle, négative, rétrograde, zéro [resp. dezintegralna, fleksyjna, ujemna, wsteczna, zerowa]. 3 4


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citent même pas le nom – ce n’est ni la troncation réciproque de (Corbin 1988), ni l’échangisme suffixal de (Lignon 2007); des traces en apparaissent dans le TLFi, mais sans définition ni commentaire (cfr. Fijałkowska 2010). D’après ces ouvrages, la création de mots nouveaux se fait, conformément à la norme linguistique, par préfixation (comprise uniquement comme adjonction de préfixes), suffixation, composition, troncation, et conversion; hors norme par abréviation, siglaison, acronymie, création de mots-valises et langages secrets. Pour que cette technique dérivationnelle gagne un status comparable à la suffixation, à la dérivation préfixale, à la troncation ou à la conversion, qui jouissent d’une position sûre dans les recueils morphologiques, les recherches entamées doivent être contiuées. Elles sont nécessaires, et cela à une échelle bien plus grande, pour deux raisons. Premièrement, les sources lexicographiques du Słownik gniazd słowotwórczych5 ne peuvent plus être qualifiées de contemporaines. Considérer à titre d’essai les ouuvrages nouveaux, dont Uniwersalny słownik języka polskiego sous la rédaction de Stanisław Dubisz et Słownik współczesnego języka polskiego sous la rédaction de Bogusław Dunaj et les néologismes du langage quotidien a entraîné une augmentation du nombre de lexèmes de deux groupes sémantiques choisis au hasard de 50-70%. (Notamment furent révisés les dérivés formant la sous-classe des verbes transformatifs (przebudować (‘rebâtir avec des modifications’, *transbâtir)) et réactifs (p.ex. oddzwonić (rappeler))). La première a marqué une augmentation en nombre de 72%, la seconde – de 50% environ. Parmi les dérivés nouveaux, et déjà en usage fréquent, mentionnnons entre autres odmailować et odesemesować. Par contre, les soi-disant verbes méthodiques furent éliminés du matériel. Deuxièmement, augmenter si considérablement le matériel ne peut rester sans effet aur la structure des groupes délimités. L’on peut s’attendre à des formants nouveaux, au changement de leur participation relative dans la formation des dérivés, ainsi qu’à un regroupement hiérarchique des préfixes productifs. Troisièmement, un ensemble nouveau de lexèmes servira automatiquement de base à un nouveau classement sémantique, différent, et pas seulement plus détaillé. Quatrièmement enfin, la thèse de M. Wiśnicki n’a point encore été publiée, ce qui a entravé la circulation des résultats qu’il avait obtenus. Avoir atteint un but partiel, à savoir, une description complète, exhaustive de la dérivation par échange de préfixes dans la langue polonaise, nous a fait penser à mettre ces résultats sur un fond comparatif, naturellement après avoir mené des recherches analogiques sur une autre langue. La comparaison avec la langue française, jusqu’alors jamais testée sur ce point, et en outre appartenant à une autre famille de langues, ouvre des perspectives de recherche très prometteuses. Il peut s’agir tant de 5 Ce sont: Mały słownik języka polskiego de H. Auderska, Z. Łempicka et S. Skorupka (MSJP 1968); Słownik języka polskiego de Witold Doroszewski (éd.), 1958-1969; Słownik języka polskiego de Mieczysław Szymczak (1978-1981).

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comparer les deux systsèmes de formation de mots (reconnaître les formants, établir leurs fonctions respectives et leur degré d’activité, la spécialisation sémantique) que la possibilité des confrontations intéressantes lexicales et sémantiques. Les groupes sémantiques que l’on peut délimiter dans l’ensemble des dérivés produits grâce à l’échange de préfixes méritent notre attention. Le matériel polonais en a donné plus d’une douzaine, mais six seulement sont cruciaux, ceux dont la position dans le système est la plus forte6. Par raport à la signification de l’action nommée par le verbe-base, ils désignent: a) une activité antonyme, qui «reverse» l’effet de l’action antérieure: odblokować (← zablokować), rozbroić (← uzbroić), odłączyć (← przyłączyć) (trad. fr. resp.: débloquer ← bloquer, désarmer ← armer, détacher ← attacher); ce sont les ainsi dits verbes annulatifs (Wróbel 1998); b) une activité supplémentaire, complétive: dodrukować (← wydrukować), dosolić (← posolić), doładować (← naładować) (trad. fr. resp.: réimprimer ← imprimer, rajouter du sel ← mettre du sel, recharger ← charger) – verbes supplémentaires, dans la terminologie de H. Wróbel et de M. Wiśnicki; c) une activité répétée, mais modifiée par rapport à l’action première: przeformatować (← sformatować), przemeblować (← umeblować), przebrać (← ubrać), przekomponować (← skomponować) (trad. fr. resp.: reformater ← formater, ‘changer l’ameublement’ – meubler, changer (de vêtements) ← habiller)7; d) une activité répétée selon un schéma, sans aucun changement – donc copiée: przedrukować (← wydrukować), odrysować (← narysować), przeliczyć (← policzyć) (trad. fr. resp. réimprimer ← imprimer, ‘copier un dessin’ – dessiner, décompter ← compter) – verbes répétitifs; e) une activité répétée, dont le résultat fut annulé ou détruit, pour le rétablir: odbudować (← zbudować), odtworzyć (← utworzyć), odczyścić (← wyczyścić), odmalować (← pomalować) (trad. fr. resp.: rebâtir ← bâtir, recréer ← créer, ?rebrosser ← brosser, repeindre ← peindre) – verbes restauratifs; f) une activité entreprise (par courtoisie) en réaction à la précédente, menée par un autre actant: odkłonić się (← ukłonić się), oddzwonić (← zadzwonić), odmachać (← pomachać) (trad. fr. resp.: ‘rendre son salut à qqn’ – saluer, rappeler ← appeler, ‘répondre en faisant signe’ – faire signe) – verbes réactifs. Leur caractère exceptionnel consiste d’une part en ce que les paraphrases indiquent leur dépendance formelle indubitable, saillante et univoque de la base dérivationnelle, et d’autre part en ce que cette dépendance sémantique incontestable repose sur des arguments d’ordre chronologique (l’antériorité évidente de l’activité désignée par le verbe-base) et d’ordre logique (l’absolue impossibilité, pour l’activité 6 Le classement des verbes appartenant aux autres groupes demande de nombreuses restrictions. Leur analyse ne fera pas l’objet du présent article. 7 L’on peut voir par ces exemples que tous les verbes polonais créés par échange de préfixes n’ont pas de correspondants français créés à l’aide de la même technique.


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nommée par le dérivé, de se manifester avant que l’activité de base n’apparaisse et ne soit achevée). Ainsi, on peut décoder (rozkodować) seulement qch. qui a été encodé (antérieurement!), dosolić (‘rajouter du sel’) seulement qch. qui a déjà été assaisonné de sel, recomposer (przekomponować) (‘composer d’une autre manière, modifier la composition’) – qch de déjà skomponowane (composé), przedrukować – qch. de déjà wydrukowane (imprimé), odtworzyć (reproduire, reconstituer) – qch de déjà créé (utworzone), et nous ne pouvons rappeler (oddzwonić) seulement qqn qui a nous a appelé (zadzwonił) auparavant. Établir en détail comment ces relations sémantiques des verbes accomplis bases et leurs dérivés verbaux en français, indépendamment des résultats, aura une valeur cognitive considérable. Un résultat positif, qui indiquerait une convergence, voire même une équivalence des groupes sémantiques, témoignerait d’une similitude des systèmes lexicaux des deux langues, et peut-être même de l’universalité des contenus exprimés par les dérivés formés par échange de préfixes. Une telle conclusion ouvre une voie de recherche sur les deux systèmes de formation de mots (richesse des formants, degré de leur spécialisation sémantique), et autorise des questions sur les raisons des similitudes attendues (p.ex. un haut pourcentage de lexèmes de provenance latine). Une résultat négatif mènerait à la conclusion qu’aux oppositions sémantiques exprimées en polonais par des moyens dérivatifs correspondent en français des oppositions lexicales (cfr. wejść: wyjść; entrer: sortir). Leur grand nombre peut témoigner du fait que les moyens morphologiques jouent en français un rôle moindre qu’en polonais. Ayant établi l’étendue et le rang de ce phénomène dans les deux langues, nous entreprendrons des recherches comparatives de ce type dans la thèse Dérivation par échange de préfixes dans le système polonais et français de formation de mots, convaincue de ce que les résultats obtenus ne se montreront pas scientifiquement stériles.

REPÈRES BIBLIOGRAPHIQUES AMIOT, D. (2006): «Prépositions et préfixes», in: VAGUER, C./ LEEMAN, D. (éds), Modèles linguistiques, 19-34. BOGACKI, K. (1999): Grammaire descriptive du français. Morphologie et dérivation, Wydawnictwo Uniwersytetu w Białymstoku, Białystok. DAL GEORGETTE (1997): «Un point de vue sur la morphologie dérivationnelle du français», série de cours donnés dans le cadre de l’école d’été en morphologie organisé par COLEX, Université de Nantes, 1-8 septembre 1997. FIJAŁKOWSKA, W. (2010): „La substitution de préfixes comme méthode de dérivation de verbes”, in: Des mots et du texte aux conceptions de la description linguistique, Wyd. UW, Warszawa. FIJAŁKOWSKA, W. (2014): Le préfixoïde – un outil de description morphologique et élément du système de la langue française et polonaise, LingVaria (IX), 2014, nr 2 (18), s. 177-191.

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FRADIN, B. (2003): Nouvelles approches en morphologie, PUF, Paris. FRADIN, B., KERLEROUX, F., PLÉNAT, M. (éds) (2009): Aperçus de morphologie du français, PUV, Paris. GRUAZ, C./ HONVAULT, R./ DEJEAN, C./ FRAGOSO, A./ MEYER, A./ SKIPPON, S. (2008): Dictionnaire Synchronique des Familles dérivationnelles de mots français, Éditions Lambert – Lucas, Limoges. GRZEGORCZYKOWA, R./ LASKOWSKI, R./ WRÓBEL, H. (red.) (1998): Gramatyka współczesnego języka polskiego. Morfologia, wyd. II zmienione, Warszawa. JADACKA, H./ NAGÓRKO, A. (1985): «O „Słowniku gniazd słowotwórczych”», Poradnik Językowy, p. 550-580. JADACKA, H. (2001): System słowotwórczy polszczyzny (1945-2000), Warszawa. JADACKA, H. (2005): Kultura języka polskiego. Fleksja, słowotwórstwo, składnia, Warszawa. KAPROŃ-CHARZYŃSKA, I. (2005): Derywacja ujemna we współczesnym języku polskim. Rzeczowniki i przymiotniki, Toruń. KAPROŃ-CHARZYŃSKA, I. (2008): Czasowniki z formantami ujemnymi, „LingVaria” nº 1, p. 49-60. KERLEROUX, F. (1999): „Identification d’un procédé morphologique: la conversion”, in: Faits De Langues, vol. 7, no. 14, p. 89-100. KREJA, B. (1963): Pojęcie derywacji wymiennej, w: Z polskich studiów slawistycznych. Seria 2. Językoznawstwo, Warszawa, p. 133-140. LASKOWSKI, R./ WRÓBEL, H. (1964): Użycie paradygmatu w funkcji formantu słowotwórczego we współczesnej polszczyźnie, Język Polski, 44, p. 214-220. LINGON, S. (2007): Du linguicien au sémanticiste: quelques cas d’échangisme suffixal, ATILF, Nancy. SKARŻYŃSKI, M. (1999): Powstanie i rozwój polskiego słowotwórstwa opisowego, Kraków. SKARŻYŃSKI, M. (2000): Słownik przypomnień gramatycznych, Kraków. SKARŻYŃSKI, M. (2003): „Czasowniki jako centra gniazd słowotwórczych”, in: Słowotwórstwo gniazdowe. Historia. Metoda. zastosowania, red. M. SKARŻYŃSKI, Kraków, p. 41-55. SKARŻYŃSKI, M. (2004): Wstęp (in:) Słownik gniazd słowotwórczych współczesnego języka polskiego. T. III Gniazda odczasownikowe, Kraków, s. VII-XIV. STANKIEWICZ, J. (2006): „Wymiana prefiksów w derywacji odczasownikowej (na materiale gniazdowym)”, Poradnik Językowy, cahier 10, p. 119-126. ŚMIECH, W. (1986): Derywacja prefiksalna czasowników polskich, Wrocław. WASZKOWA, K. (1993): Słowotwórstwo współczesnego języka polskiego. Rzeczowniki z formantem paradygmatycznym, Warszawa. WIŚNICKI, M. (2009): „Derywacja prefiksalna wymienna czasowników polskich (w świetle danych gniazdowych)”, „LingVaria”, nº 1, p. 139-150. WIŚNICKI, M. (2010): Derywacja prefiksalna wymienna w czasownikach polskich (na materiale gniazdowym) thèse de doctorat dactylographiée, Warszawa. WRÓBEL, H. (1998): „Czasownik”, in: GRZGORCZYKOWA, R./ LASKOWSKI, R./ WRÓBEL, H. (éds): Gramatyka współczesnego języka polskiego. Morfologia, Warszawa, p. 536-583.


JACEK OLESIEJKO (WYŻSZA SZKOŁA JĘZYKÓW OBCYCH, SZCZECIN)

IDEOLOGY OF MILITARY KINGSHIP IN ANGLO-SAXON ENGLAND: CONVERSION NARRATIVES IN BEDE’S HISTORIA ECCLESIASTICA AND CYNEWULF’S ELENE

Ideologies of kingship in Anglo-Saxon England, whether theorised from ecclesiastical perspectives or perpetuated by the oral/literary practices of Old English vernacular poets, were conducive to the promulgation of Christianity among the aristocratic military classes. This article reads Bede’s Historia Ecclesiastica Gentis Anglorum and Cynewulf’s Elene in an attempt to locate these works in the political and cultural landscape of conversion in early Anglo-Saxon England, on the one hand, and Viking invasion and settlement of the tenth and eleventh century, on the other. While earlier criticism has looked to biblical literary models in order to elucidate Bede’s and Cynewulf’s portrayals of Edwin and Constantine, the present article argues that the portrayal of military kings therein can be better understood in the context of the secular ethos of kingship and warfare argued by ecclesiastical writers, whose ideas emanated from a shared ideological framework. KEYWORDS: Bede’s Historia Ecclesiastica Gentis Anglorum, Cynewulf’s Elene, kingship, Anglo-Saxon literature, Old English poetry

In Anglo-Saxon England, representations of warfare and military kingship emanated from an ethical framework in which new duties and obligations were defined from ecclesiastical perspective. One dominant theme of kingship comes at the forefront in these representations: the role of military kings in the conversion and the Christianisation of the secular code of conduct inherited from the pre-Christian past. Anglo-Saxon authors depict kings not only in warfare, but also in interactions with important ecclesiastical leaders. Arguably, they advanced a new role for their kings, that of a student of the past. The reformulation of kingship is manifest in two seemingly unrelated Anglo-Saxon texts: Bede’s Historia Ecclesiastica Gentis Anglorum (henceforth HE) (finished in 731 A.D.) and Cynewulf’s poem based on Invention of the Cross legend, widely known by its editorial title Elene. Both texts represent and ideologise military kingship, laying out rules of conduct regarding the exercise of power in war and peace. The ecclesiastical bias underlying both works is evident when one considers their shared case for an idealised equilibrium that

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should tie secular and ecclesiastical authorities. Both works construct an ideology of military kingship and royal power through their underlying critique of heroic ethos and by their imaginative and symbolic reworking of the theme of covenant. In Historia Ecclesiastica and Elene, new alliances between Edwin of Northumbria, Emperor Constantine and supernatural messengers are superimposed on the human and secular obligations. This paper investigates a staggering rewriting of the secular ethos of obligations which is evoked both by Bede in Historia Ecclesiastica, in his depiction of Edwine’s and Oswald’s secular alliances, and Cynewulf in his Elene and his evocation of Anglo-Saxon heroic code in the poem. It must be stated, however, that apart from a teleological vision of how history is to culminate, Historia Ecclesiastica and Elene shares the idea of cultural and ethical origins for Anglo-Saxon England. Bede argue for Rome as the fons of Anglo-Saxon Christianity. It is argued in this paper that Cynewulf follows Bede and contests the Germanic conception of the Anglo-Saxon past in favour of Rome as the source of reformed Englishness in especially bold terms. The second argument put forward here shines a light on the special role that the royalty played in national conversion. Both Constantine in Elene and Edwin of Northumbria in Bede’s Historia Ecclesiastica are royal converts, whose roles and actions are depicted in relation to the themes of origins and legitimacy for power that underlie these two texts. Recent critical work on both these texts has been given to elucidating the ideology of power and kingship as well as postulating that historiographical and poetic presentations of kingship therein reflect Old Testament role-models of military kingship that Anglo-Saxon authors upheld as examples to their royal patrons. The present paper complements earlier critical receptions of both works by locating HE and Elene in their complex cultural milieus. Neither Bede nor Cynewulf sought to idealise kingship and emperorship. Both works are written from the ecclesiastical perspective and a particular ideological interest may be distilled from them. It has to be admitted, of course, that both works appear to have addressed audiences inhabiting not the same historical contexts. The historical context of Historia Ecclesiastica is easily determined, as Bede completed Historia Ecclesiastica Gentis Anglorum in 731 A.D. The work was to become well-known in England both in Latin and its Anglian Old English translation during the whole of the AngloSaxon period and beyond, to which a significant number of manuscripts preserving both the original and vernacular versions testify. The dating of Cynewulf’s poetry, however, has excited much controversy. The present article brings to attention the manuscript context of the poem and locates Elene in the cultural and political context of the Viking Age; Elene is extant in Vercelli Book, a codex that preserves poetic and homiletic material that slightly predates the Benedectine Reform of the second half of tenth century. It is not known whether Cynewulf read Historia Ecclesiastica and the question whether Historia Ecclesiastica bears any influence on Elene is bracketed in this study. Rather, the aim of the project is to explore

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representations of conversion as an important aspect of the Anglo-Saxon culture diachronically to gain understanding of the literary culture in which Old English religious poetry functioned.

I.

In Bede’s Historia Ecclesiastica, kingship is depicted as instrumental for Christianisation of English kingdoms that formed Bede’s eponymous gentis anglorum. Bede is especially attentive to the balance of power and responsibility between the secular and ecclesiastical authority under which people are united as gens. As early as in the introductory part of the Historia Ecclesiastica is the theme of kingship inaugurated. Throughout Historia Ecclesiastica, the relationship between ecclesiastical and royal powers is an underlying theme. The logic according to which a nation is under an obligation to follow their lord’s faith and promptly converts as a result of his conversion into a new religion is prominent in Historia Ecclesiastica, in which a number of accounts of royal conversions are related. As Bede appears to be fastidious in his commitment to laying down an ethos of Christian kingship and formulating an ideal of a Christian kingdom, it is vital to investigate Historia Ecclesiastica and Elene in a comparative reading as narratives of conversion and reform of the state. Kings in Historia Ecclesiastica are not only agents of historical narrative. Historia Ecclesiastica was written for the Northumbrian military and aristocratic class. Bede reconfigures kings as audiences of his work, textualising them as patrons of the textual community that is being constructed throughout the length of the five books of Historia Ecclesiastica. Power relations between the church and the state are Bede’s concern from the very beginning of Historia Ecclesiastica, which is evidenced by the preface to Historia Ecclesiastica. In the preface, addressed to King Ceolwulf, Bede commences his narrative in which the theme of kingship and its instrumental role in the salvational history of gentis anglorum constitutes a major thematic thread weaved into the texture of his Historia Ecclesiastica. The preface accommodates Ceolwulf within the authorial chain of which Bede is part as a teacher. Bede writes History with Ceowulf in mind, exhorting him to “the instruction of yourself and those over whom divine authority has appointed you to rule” (3). As Bede fashions himself into Ceolwulf’ teacher, he presents himself as belonging to the chain of authority inaugurated by Abbot Albinus. Analogically, Ceolwulf’s Christian authority over Northumbria emanates from Edwin and Oswald, whom Bede depicts as foremost Christian kings of the Northumbrian kingdom. In the conversion history of Northumbria, two kings are depicted by Bede to have played the most prominent roles, namely Edwin and Oswald. Their parallel narratives give mirrored accounts of their progress to power and authority, the

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growth of which is shown to result from their own conversion and their policies to promote Christianity among their subjects. More importantly, however, they unfold a narrative of an alliance that flourished between royal personas and monk-bishops, who play roles of teachers. Bede shows Edwin and bishop Paulinus as well as Oswald and Aidan to be the principal protagonists of Northumbrian history. His treatment of Edwin and Oswald’s respective reigns, arguably, elevates Northumbrian kings from the apparently subordinate and instrumental role they played in their service of conversion to an intimate homosocial bond between a secular ruler and his ecclesiastical teacher. Much as Edwin’s narrative sets the model of kingship that is maintained in the presentations of Oswald and Oswine’s reigns, Bede makes Oswald overshadow Edwin. It was Oswald that Bede shaped into the principal actor of Northumbria’a unification, depicting him as the most Christian king (quote) and a vernacular saint. As Clare Stancliffe indicates, in the seventh-century Northumbria Edwin and Oswald may well have entertained an equal status as royal saints and it was only as a result of Bede’s rhetorical manipulations in Historia Ecclesiastica over half a century later that Oswald became known as the paragon of holy kingship in Anglo-Saxon historiography (Stancliffe 1995: 41). In Bede’s historical narrative, Oswald culminates the conversion of Northumbria and its people under the guiding hand of Paulinus. The first English king the portrayal of whom sets the pattern of ideal kingship in Historia Ecclesiastica is that of Edwin of Northumbria. Bede emphasises that the territorial expansion that marks Edwin’s reign unfolds as part of providential design with a view to uniting the English race under the faith1: The king’s earthly power had increased as an augury that he was to become a believer and have a share in the heavenly kingdom. So, like no other English before him, he held under his sway the whole realm of Britain, not only English kingdoms but those ruled over by the Britons as well (HE, ii.9).2

Most crucially, the pattern that Edwin’s rule sets is dependent on the nature of alliances with ecclesiastical authority that are productive of his secular authority. What Bede stresses is the alliance of ecclesiastical and secular authority, impersonated by the Paulinus and Edwin respectively, which effects Northumbria’s conversion. Arguably, Edwin’s conversion is, in Historia Ecclesiastica, part of a larger master-narrative, designed in keeping with a reformed notion of kingship and a Christianised heroic ethos, that not only results in a reconciliation of secular 1 As Higham notes, “[t]he expansion of Edwin’s temporal power (II, 9) was depicted as a divinely given ‘sign’ of his impending conversion, with Paulinus, ‘a man beloved God’, beside him as a type St Paul. (Higham 2006: 150) 2 All quotations from Bede’s Historia Ecclesiastica Gentis Anglorum are taken from Bede. (1999). The Ecclesiastical History of the English People. (Edited and translated by Judith McClure and Roger Collins.) Oxford: Oxford University Press.


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ideologies of kingship with Christian ideology, but also accommodates the ecclesiastical authority into the political realm of military and territorial conquest. In fact, Bede’s narrative of Edwin’s reign overshadows that of Oswald in that the presentation of Edwin as king rewrites the secular ethos of a warrior king, which Edwin encapsulates when yet unconverted, to legitimise it as well as make it typologically and tropologically compatible with the Christian ethics. Bede draws upon folk tradition in his narrative of Edwin’s youth, when he was exiled to the Anglian court of king Raedwald and faced with the threat of death from the hands of king Aethelfrtih of Northumbria. The account illustrates Edwin’s royal career as progress from pagan to Christian ethics of kingship and warfare in that it contrast between the pagan ethos of honourable conduct, which depicted as tragically ineffective in the fallible pagan world. As he awaits inexorable defeat, he is approached by angel in the middle of the night. The mysterious man asks Edwin what reward he would offer to anyone willing to change the course of the impending doom and save his life, grant him victory over his enemy, make him “a king who surpassed in power not only all your ancestors, but also all who have reigned before [him]” and his eternal salvation. Edwin did not hesitate to promise at once that he would follow in every particular the teaching of that one who could rescue him from so many troubles and raise him to the throne. Upon this answer the one who was speaking to him immediately laid his right hand on Edwin’s head and said, ‘When this sign shall come to you, remember this occasion and your conversation, and do not hesitate to fulfil what you are now promising.’ On these words it is related that he suddenly disappeared so that Edwin might realise that it was not a man but a spirit who had appeared to him (HE, ii.12).

At the same night, King Raedwald changes his mind and not only does he keep faith with Edwin, but he also extends to him a helping hand in overthrowing Athelfrith and raising Edwin to the Northumbrian throne. This account of Edwin’s rise to power occupies no accidental space in the central part of the second book of Historia Ecclesiastica. Placed immediately after a brief historical outline of the Edwin and Paulinus’s conversion of Northumbria in chapter 9 and two letters from Pope Boniface addressed to King Edwin and his wife Aethelburh respectively, the account of Edwin’s conversation with a divine messenger serves as a prefiguration of the role that Edwin is reported to play and which is bound to be taken over by his ancestors. The two major themes of these epistles, namely, the baptism of the royal consorts, highlighting turning from their former faith portrayed as idolatry and devil-worship, as well as their endorsement of orthodox Roman Christianity, are reflected in the victory over the pagan enemy, related in book 12, that Edwin had been granted. The alliance with the supernatural messenger not only supersedes Edwin’s former alliances that bound him to his pagan allies, but also make for further advance in power as a result of his obligation to ecclesiastical power and the redefinition of

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his kingship as overlordship that marks his reign of his predecessors. In book 12 Bede emphasises Edwin and Raedwall’s alliance, which turns out to be essential for Edwin’s political advancement on the strength of Raedwall honourable treatment of his friend and adamant rejection of Aethelfrith’s ensnaring. Although Raedwald, in fact, is on the verge of failing to keep faith for once when approached by Raedwald for the third time, he is persuaded by his royal wife to remain faithful to Edwin and even extends to him a helping hand in overthrowing Aethelfrith. The ultimate victory, however, is shown to be achieved on the strength of Edwin’s alliance with the new god, which will become clear to Edwin when Paulinus approaches him and places his right hand on his forehead with a view not only to Edwin’s personal conversion but first and foremost to ensuring conversion of Northumbria.

II.

Both Bede’s Historia Ecclesiastica and Cynewulf’s Elene share the theme of royal conversion as a moment of historical and cultural significance, but their emphases shifted in harmony with their different ideological purposes and the evolving cultural and political landscape. Bede narrates conversions of kings and the royal protagonists of Historia Ecclesiastica are paired with bishops, Edwin with Paulinus, Oswald with Aidan. Elene was composed in the period from the late ninth to the tenth century and inscribed in Vercelli Book (Vercelli, Bibliotheca Capitolare, CXVII) in the middle of the tenth century. Its textual transmission, therefore, culminates in the tenth century context when the rise of vernacular homily, to which Vercelli Book itself testifies, is coloured by two themes: the need to edify Anglo-Saxon society as a whole and the need to defend the faith from retreat to paganism at time of the Viking invasion. Elene, like Bede’s Historia Ecclesiastica, advances a model for a Christian empire that is valid for Anglo-Saxon culture and politics, arguably, in times of Danish invasion and settlement. Elene was collected and compiled with a number of other important Old English poems and 23 homilies in Vercelli Book. According to the most recent editor of the homiletic material from the manuscript, the codex antedates Aelfric’s Catholic Homilies that are dated from 990 to 995 (Scragg 1992: xxxviii). By that Anglo-Saxons had already been politically and culturally converted. With the establishment of the Danelaw at the end of the ninth century, however, a new era of turbulent relations with Viking culture and society had commenced. In the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, Danes are depicted as heathen and represent a territorial threat, but also a threat in broadly cultural terms. The English and the Danes shared the same Germanic descent. The latter were therefore feared to be able cause a revival of paganism in Anglo-Saxon England in case of the assimilation of these two cultures. It is no surprise that the presence of Danish and mixed


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Anglo-Danish communities in the tenth century led to a redefinition of the myth of Germanic origins. I argue that Elene fits the cultural context of the tenth century, as it supplies a competitive narrative of origins for Anglo-Saxons, a narrative that makes a case for an ethical origin of Angelcynn in Rome. As Historia Ecclesiastica, Elene’s narrative is preoccupied with transfer of power, whereby the secular authority compromises its power with the allied ecclesiastical authority. The most distinguishing feature of Cynewulf’s narrative is violence and conversion by force. Elene, based on Inventio Crucis legend, unfolds a narrative of conquest and conversion of Judas/Cyriacus into Christianity by Helen, mother of Emperor Constantine. When Constantine has defended Rome against pagan Germanic invaders he dispatches his mother Elene to Jerusalem with a mission to find the true cross. The success of her mission is being frustrated by a community of Jews, who refuse to lead Elene to the location in which the cross had secretly been buried. The Jews oppose Elene, as the revelation the cross will inevitably bring an end to their dominion. Intimidated and overwhelmed by Helen, Jews are coerced into surrendering the wisest of them, Judas, to the queen, as his forebears have passed on him the knowledge of the location of the hidden cross. Incarcerated in a cistern, where he lingers starving for seven days, Judas is in turn being coerced to disclose the mystery. In the meantime, he converts into Christianity and reveals the secret. The poem narrates the Jewish conversion in terms of translatio studii et imperii. Jews and Christians compete for power and authority and the poem reflects the notion of translatio studii et imperii from Jewish culture into Christian culture. The present article reads Elene as a political allegory. The contention between the Jews and Christian reflects the contention between Anglo-Saxons and contemporaneous pagan culture represented by the Danish Vikings. Jews in Elene collectively represent the other that exists to be contained and subsumed by Christianity, whose ultimate role is to overtake Judaism in the process that resembles and reiterates that final stage of historical translatio imperii et studii. This process defines and sanctions the shift of political and cultural dominance from Rome to Christianity. Patristic readings of Elene, which predominated in the twentieth century, took the question of violence exercised by Helen and her Christian companions for granted. In one of the most astute readings that line of criticism, John P. Hermann noted that “allegorical approach [to Elene alongside some other OE poetry, JO] leads to a critical response that mirrors the rhetorical patterns of the work” (Hermann 1989: 102). Hermann finds exegetical criticism of Cynewulf “complicit with allegorical sublation” (Hermann 1989: 102). Much as the allegorical interpretation do elucidate the poem’s significance in the context of medieval exegesis, they reflect critics’ desire for the poem’s artistry at the expense of its cultural significance and put aside the question of the cultural work it performed in Anglo-Saxon England. The literal meaning, which veils the allegory allegedly implicit in the poem’s Latin source, makes manifest much of the structural and epistemic violence that underlay the cultural process of conversion so resonant in Elene. In contrast to the body of

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important and influential readings of the poem, the present article aims to restore the cultural and historical significance of the poem’s literal meaning. The stress that Elene places on the conversion and construction of communities suggests that vernacular poetic practices had not eclipsed by the time of Benedictine reform. The present article takes up a trail from a recent article written by Heide Estes, who argues for the early tenth century as the date of Elene’s composition (Estes 2006: 136). She claims that “the clear message in Elene is that Christian faith itself is a sole justification for martial conquest and cultural imperialism justifies the conquest of Danish-held areas of England in the tenth century under the children and grandsons of Alfred. Constantine’s victory as a Christian king several centuries earlier would give encouragemnt and legitimacy to the Christian kings in England” (Estes 2006: 137) .Most importantly, Estes provides several arguments for the late date of Elene’s composition: (1) the low educational standards in the ninth century; (2) the fact that Aelfric composed a homily on the legend of Inventio Crucis also in the tenth century; (3) formulaic expressions like “beaggifa”[ringg-giver], which make the poem akin to others composed in the tenth century or later (Estes 2006: 140-143). Before I advance my own reflections on the historical significance of the poem, I would like to consider some of John D. Niles’s arguments for the composition of Beowulf at a similarly late date. Attention must especially be drawn to his arguments relating to the ideological work vernacular poetry did at the time of Danish invasion and settlement following the establishment of the Danelaw at the end of the ninth century under King Alfred the Great’s reign. Far from being a static repertory of songs insensitive to a changing social and intellectual climate, Old English poetry remained culturally meaningful by adapting to the realities of the hybrid civilisation, both Germanic and Mediterranean in its origins, that was now ascendant in Britain (Niles 2006: 143).

Niles also postulates Beowulf as a product of a twofold desire for origin: “(1) for a distinguished ethnic origin of that would serve to merge English and Danish differences into a neutral and dignified pan-Germanism, and (2) for an ethical origin that would ally this unified race with Christian spiritual values” (Niles 2006: 153). Niles’s historicist reading of Beowulf pus emphasis on the hybrid nature of the poem. While Beowulf looks to Germania in search of the common origin for both Anglo-Saxons and Danes, Elene disregards Germania and places emphasis on the cultural importance of Rome and Rome’s precedence over other empires and nations. As a political poem, Elene not only stands out from other vernacular and heroic poetry. Ideologically, it is close to Alfredian translation of the late ninth and early tenth century. Stephen Harris shows that through the tradition of Alfredian writings, especially Orosius’s World History in its OE redaction, “adherence to Christian practice and belief, or rather Christendom, offered to Anglo-Saxons not only a Christian identity, born of Latin textual culture, but also Germanic identity which was nonetheless intimately tied to an ancient Christian past” (2003: 87). Harris


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argues that the Old English translation of World History “may have contributed to the process by which Anglo-Saxon began to understand themselves as a single people constituted both ethnically and religiously” (2003: 91). He goes on to point out that the Kingdom of Ostrogoths ruled by Odoacer and Theodoric, who adopted and Germanised the essentially Christian Romanitas, is imagined as Germanic in AngloSaxon sources, and further claims that “[t]he Orosian inheritance ... emphasised the foundational role of Alaric the Goth in the perceived Germanic imperial origin of Christendom” (2003: 131). While it is true that the Old English Orosius and the Old English Boethius represent Rome’s Christian culture as Germanised, this Germanised Romanitas does not betray a sense of pride Anglo-Saxons would be likely to have taken in their Germanic forebears who ruled Rome before the Gregorian mission to Kent. In fact, Old English Boethius represents Alaric and Theodoric as evil. While Alaric was “Criste geconodon” [committed to Christ] (Meter 1, 32), he nonetheless is derided by the Old English translator for supporting the Arian heresy and for the fact that “wæs þam æþelinge Arrianes gedwola leofre þonne drihtnes æ” [the heresy of Arius was dearer to that prince than God’s law] (Meter 1, 40-41). Most emphatically, he is rendered an antagonist to Boethius, who remains adamant in orthodoxy. While the Alfredian canon downplays and disparages Germanic rulers of Rome, Elene goes even further in presenting Germanic people as antagonistic to Rome3. Through translatio imperii Rome overshadows all other empires and peoples. Elene reconfigures the pan-Germanic myth of origin that was persistent in Anglo-Saxon England. The poem is an integral part of the chain of authority that goes down to Bede, the chain of authority that emphasises the Roman origin of Anglo-Saxon Christianity. Elene seems to stands out from the cultural formations represented by the Old English Orosius and Boethius, as it rejects an opportunity to graft some Germanic element onto the Roman branch of Christianity. On the contrary, it juxtaposes Rome with Germania, pitting Constantine against Germanic aggressors, who threaten the integrity of Roman borders. The battle itself is not historical; in historiography, the vision of the cross is associated with the battle of Mulvian bridge, when Constantine was victorious over his Roman rival Maxentius.4 3 As Cynthia Witmann Zollinger notices, the legendary and historical accounts of Constantine’s life had existed side by side since the fifth century. While Eusebius of Caesarea’s Life of Constantine identifies the vision of the cross with Constantine’s victory over Maxentius in a civil war, the legend of Judas Cyriacus “locates the vision on the banks of Danube and the face of invading barbarians” (2004: 182-183). The change, as Zollinger observes, “offers a dramatic set of associations for the Old English poet” as “Cynewulf’s presentation of the encounter on the Danube situates the legend within the remembered Germanic past” (2004: 183). As she astutely observes, “if Anglo-Saxon readers find their ancestral memories on one bank of the Danube, they find their spiritual traditions on the other” (2004: 184). 4 Pamela Gradon lists a number of Syriac, Greek and Latin redactions that, like Cynewulf’s poem, preface the invention of the cross legend with the unhistorical account of the battle that Constantine

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Cynewulf shares Bede’s concern over emphasising the Roman origin of Anglo-Saxon Christian culture. However, he does little to invoke the biblical ideal of kinship5. He works from the well-established tradition of Old English verse and his portrayal of Constantine is a result of ideological negotiations that were more immediate to the cultural background in which Old English alliterative verse originated. Cynewulf’s aim was to graft Christian ideals into the alliterative tradition. The introductory part, for example, advances a reformulation of the Germanic tradition of narrating victories. The entire episode of Constantine’s victory and conversion provides a new understanding of kingship and royal power, deconstructing a heroic notion of kingship that characterises much of the heroic tradition that Cynewulf calls up. The heroic portion of the legend in Cynewulf’ adaption is enhanced through a series of rhetorical manipulations that bring attention to formulaic conventions that Anglo-Saxon audiences were familiar with until the end of Old English period. In Elene, conversion is the domain of Ecclesia, while conquest and defence of territory are the domain of kingship. The first section of the poem depicts Constantine as a warrior-king. Like Scyld Scefing and Hrothgar in Beowulf, he is a benevolent ruler over his own subjects, but a scourge to foreign nations: “he manegum wearth /geond middan-geard mannum to hrother, /wertheodum to wraece” [became comfort to many people across the world, but a bale to nations, when he raised his weapons against enemies] (Elene ll 15-18).6 In Elene, both the heroic ideals of kingship and the audience’s expectations are undermined. Unlike militant Germanic kings, Constantine is weak and gains victory solely on the strength of his alliance with a new god. ‘He wæs riht cyning, guðweard gumena. Hine god trymede mærðum ond mihtum’ [He was the rightful king, a militant defender of [his] people. God strengthened him with his might and power] (Elene ll. 14-15). The verb “trymman” occurs in both heroic and religious Old English poetry and its choice here is significant. In the formulaic approachwaged against barbarian, pointing out that none of these versions features the barbarian tribes that attack Constantine in Cynewulf’s poem (1947: 162-163). As she notes, “the passage from Elene is not taken from any of the legendary sources nor can it well be taken from an historical source since, although we have records of a campaign of Constantine against the Franks, we have no record of the presence of the Huns in Europe until after 370” (1947: 163). Gradon admits that the list may be the effect “the exigencies of alliteration” (1947: 164). Gradon also remarks that “the poet may not be thinking historically at all” (1947: 170). 5 Anderson offers a complex reading of Constantine’s Christian kingship, claiming that “[t]hree ideals of kingship, not found in the Latin source but generally available in the ninth century, are detectable in Elene: first, the ideal of the learned; second, the ideal of potestas; third, the ideal of the Christian ruler as a minister Dei. The first two ideals are present but of minor importance; the third, Constantine’s relationship to the populus, is a major contribution to the thematic development in the poem” (1983: 127). Anderson calls up “the Pauline admonition that Christians must be subject to the divinely intentioned authorities (Rom. 13:1-4), whence comes the idea of kingship as ministerium)” (1983: 129). 6 All quotations from Cynewulf’s Elene are taken from Robert E. Bjork. 2013. The Old English Poems by Cynewulf. Cambridge, Massachusetts.


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to-battle scene recurrent in Old English poetry, the lord or general of the army is frequently described as boosting his troop’s morale. The word is employed in a rather patronising tone in The Battle of Maldon, when Byrhtnoth “ongan beornas trymian/ rad and rædde, rincum tæhte /hu hi sceoldon standan and þone stede healdan” ‘began to exhort his warriors, advising them of how they should keep their lines and maintain their position’ (17-19). In religious poetry, the word signifies the transference of divine power onto the saint. In Guthac A, God “hluttre mod in þæs gæstes god georne trymede” ‘supported [Guthlac’s] pure heart in spiritual goodness’ (Guthlac A 106-107). The verb also appears in descriptions of spiritual warfare with sin. In Guthlac B, this word appears in the context of the theme of Miles Christi: “He his modsefan wið þam færhagan fæste trymede feonda gewinna” ‘he [St. Guthlac] he firmly strengthened his mind in defence against the attack of the fiend’ (Guthlac B 959-962). Although Constantine, unlike Guthlac, is not a miles Christi (he is not called cempa and, in fact, he is yet to become a convert), his royal authority and military power obtain their validity from the same spiritual source that reinforces saints’ spiritual prowess. The transfer of the role of the thane to the emperor is appropriate, since as the Christian rule he plays a role subordinate to Ecclesia. The new role that Constantine is to play in Christian history is emphasised by chiastic repetitions within a ring composition that narrates his education and conversion. þa se æðeling fand, leodgebyrga, þurh (a) larsmiðas, guðheard, garþrist, (b) on godes bocum hwær ahangen wæs heriges beorhtme on rode treo (c) rodora waldend æfstum þurh inwit, swa se (c) ealda feond forlærde (b) ligesearwum, leode fortyhte, (a) Iudea cyn, þæt hie god sylfne ahengon, herga fruman. Then the nobleman, The people’s prince, battle-hard, bold Found through (a) scholars in (b) the books of God Where (c) the ruler of the firmament had been hanged With hatred on the cross to the acclaim of the army Through guile, as (c) the old enemy Through (b) wiles seduced them, misled the people, (a) The Jewish race, so that they hanged God himself The creator of armies. (Elene ll. 202–210).

Ring composition is an oral technique common in Old English poetry in which a set of elements is repeated in reverse order. It parallels a rhetorical figure called

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chiasm, a device well-known in ancient rhetoric. The fragment is designed to focus the audience’s attention on a series of juxtapositions that reinforce the poem’s message: (a) Constantine’s Christian teachers are paired with the Jews; (b) the Scripture is paired with the distorted vision of the past that emerges from the lies the Jews perpetuate; (c) God/Christ is paired with Satan/the old enemy. Constantine seeks teachers whose literacy and knowledge of scripture will enlighten him with wisdom and enable him to oppose the Jews, who, beguiled by the ancient enemy’s lies, put God to death. The central place in this ring structure is occupied by a paronomastic pairing of “rode treo” [the tree of the cross] and “rodora waldend” [the lord of heaven] which reiterates in a number of episodes of the poem. In this structure, the military aspects of Constantine’s authority are also emphasised, as, being “guð-heard, gar-þrist,” he serves under “herga fruman” [the creator of armies, accusative case]. The tree of the rood is a twofold sign of Christ suffering and his victory over the old enemy. As Gordon Whatley points out, “Cynewulf rounds off his account of Constantine’s conversion by implicitly contrasting the emperor’s joyful acceptance of the cross and its theology with the Jews’ malevolent rejection of it” (Whatley 1985: 168-169). Constantine’s conversion implies larger political ramifications in that Church is elevated over Synagogue, gaining authority over biblical interpretation as a result of translatio imperii. In recent scholarship, Cynewulf’s Elene is often noted as the supreme example of Anglo-Saxon anti-Semitism. Elene furthers an idea of the Hermeneutic Jew, a construction of Jew as the other. As Andrew P. Sheil observes, central to the representations of Jews in medieval literature were two premises: one that their recalcitrance in recognising Christ as messiah was grounded on “their conscious choice... and evil decision made of their own will” (Sheil 2004: 33-34);” the other that they are unable to do so because of their intellectual opacity that makes the literal meaning of Scripture impenetrable (Sheil 2004: 35-36). The theme of transfer of knowledge and power, tranlatio imperii et studii, is contingent upon violence that happens in the poem. Elene’s accusation of Deicide directed at the Jews questions their time-honoured position of interpreters of the Word, which is Christ’s figural body. Ic þæt gearolice ongiten hæbbe þurg witgena wordgeryno on godes bocum þæt ge geardagum wyrðe wæron wuldorcyninge, dryhtne dyre ond dædhwæte. Hwæt, ge ealle snyttro unwislice, wraðe wiðweorpon, þa ge wergdon þane þe eow of wergðe þurh his wuldres miht, fram ligcwale, lysan þohte, of hæftnede. Ge mid horu speowdon on þæs ondwlitan þe eow eagena leoht, fram blindnesse bote gefremede


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edniowunga þurh þæt æðele spald, ond fram unclænum oft generede deofla gastum. (288-302) I have completely understood Through the word-secrets of the prophets In God’s books that in formers days You were precious to the king glory, Dear to the Lord and bold. How foolishly you fiercely Cast away wisdom when you cursed the one Who through his glorious might thought To release you from damnation. From bondage. With your filth you spat On the face of the one who, with that noble spittle, Worked remedy afresh from blindness For the light of your eyes And often saved you from the unclean Spirits of the devil. (288-302)

Jews’ inability to interpret Jesus as the Word incarnated, their textual blindness to the Word, is a reiteration of the violence wrought upon Christ, of Deicide. The poem establishes a set of conceptual metaphors that equate the sanctioned and unsanctioned ways of reading scripture with, respectively, killing and giving life. It is Thomas Hill’s argument that the sapiential theme of the poem is informed by “the contrast between the letter that kills and the spirit that gives life” and that “the whole narrative of the ‘inventio crucis’ is a metaphor of conversion” (2001: 212). The killing of Christ is depicted as analogical to textual violence whereby the spirit is killed by the letter. The metaphor of light and darkness that Elene employs with reference to the Jews refers to their inability to unveil the spiritual mystery hidden in the litter text of the Scripture. Elene not only reinforces the idea that Jews are no longer able to continue the hermeneutic tradition that it was their role to cultivate. It advances a notion that any cultural practice that distorts the Christian truth must be put to an equally violent end. The figural reading of the Scripture (and the poem) on the part of the audience is an re-enactment of the Pauline idea of reading; it also offers pleasure that the audience is to adduce from their figurative involvement in spiritual warfare with the devil, spiritual violence that is the opposite of the violence that brought about Christ’s death. Jews in Elene share a number of characteristic with the Danes as depicted in late Anglo-Saxon homilies by Aelfric and Wulfstan. In False Gods, Wulfstan explores the cult of Germanic gods followed by the (Anglo-)Danish settlers of his time. The Danes earn their reputation of “hæðenan” on account of their worship of Mars and Mercury, whom Wulfstan euhemerizes as outstanding historical individuals who

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posthumously came to be divinized in human memory. While Jews, in contrast to Danes, could not be derided as heathen by Anglo-Saxons ecclesiasts, they nonetheless were disparaged for sharing the Danes’s theological error, as the Danes are reported by Wulftatn to exist “on heora gedwylde” [in their error/heresy] (Wufstan: 223). Most importantly, those who adhere to pagan worship have lapsed at the devil’s instigation, as Wulfstan tries to make clear at the very beginning of the homily: “Eala, gefyrn is þæt ðurh deofol fela þinga misfor, and þæt mancynn to swyðe Gode mishyrde, and þæt hæðenscype ealles to wide swyðe gederede” [Alas! Long time ago everything went astray through the devil and mankind disobeyed God greatly; paganism harmed all all over the world] (Wulfstan: 221). In Wulfstan’s sermon on The False Gods, Danish paganism is depicted as one of the ramifications of the confusion of tongues after building the tower of Babel. Wulfstan claims that the confusion of tongues not only brought about the dispersal of humanity around the world, but also a growth of pagan worship. Non-Christian worship, as Wulfstan notices in his homily on The False Gods, has been spread over the world since that event and that is still spreading until now: [“þæt hæðenscype ealles to wide swyðe gederede and gyt dereð wide”] (Wulfstan: 221). The centrifugal migration of peoples from the shared centre of civilisation resulted in dissolving the human understanding of God as the creator of the world and people. From Wulfstan’s condemnation of Danish cults seems to emerge his anxiety that the shared cultural memory enhanced by Anglo-Danish contacts would ineluctably occasion an outburst of heathen worship. At heart of both Elene and Wulfstan’s homiletic writings, accordingly, lies a rhetorical strategy that helps legitimize the Christian cult by contesting the ancient status and traditionality of Jewish and pagan cults respectively. As Christina M. Heckman (2009: 451) points out, Within Cynewulf’s poem, Jewish conversion becomes a means of through which to eradicate the threat of thousands of years of Jewish learning in order to assert the primacy of both Christian learning and a Christian empire.... In doing this, however, Cynewulf reveals the power of Jews as the epistemological limit of Christian imagination and the significance of the Jews as the epistemological limit of Christian learning. Christian learning cannot pass beyond this point, which consequently necessitates the incorporation of the Jews into Christianity through conversion.

If Judaism in Elene is to be read as an epistemological limit beyond which Christianity cannot reach, so too is the ancient Germanic culture shared by AngloSaxons and Danes. Analogically, as late as in the tenth and eleventh centuries, the enduring memory of Germanic roots imposed a similar epistemological limit on Anglo-Saxons. The cultural memory of Germanic gods was perpetuated in regnal lists the euhemerised Woden is one of King Alfred’s ancestors. In Elene, the Jewish community represents a set of cultural paradigms from which the audience is supposed to convert. The anti-semitic discourse in which the poem is engaged marginalises forms of representation that undermine Christian modes of representation.


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When Danish King Cnut ascended the English throne in 1016, Wulfstan became legislator of a king who, like West-Saxon kings who had preceded him, tenaciously adhered to Germanic roots, while remaining Christian. At that period, Wulfstan’s writings were inscribed in a politically significant discourse that defined Englishness against pagan Germanic roots; a discourse in which Elene, as has been argued here, had been engaged since the time of compilation of Vercelli Book. Both Elene and Historia Ecclesiastica unfold a narrative of conversion that articulates the theme of cultural origins as a highly contentious issue. In Historia Ecclesiastica conversion was a political act that involved a redefinition of identity and alliances and the reinterpretation of a shared idea of origin that stood in the way of accepting Christianity as culturally valid. With the advent of the Vikings and the Danelaw, the cultural identity of Anglo-Saxons underwent another redefinition in the face of an enemy from a shared cultural and historical background. At that time, the memory of Germanic origin could no longer offer a straightforward trajectory for conveying the notion of Anglo-Saxons as a Christian people. The redefinition of Germanic history that resounds in Elene reflects a conception of the Vikings as the heathen who evoke the pagan past of Anglo-Saxons.

REFERENCES ANDERSON, E.R. (1988): “Cynewulf’s Elene 1115b-24, the Conversion of the Jews: Figurative Or Literal?”, English Language Notes 25/3, 1-3. BATELY, J. (1980): The Old English Orosius. London. BEDE, (1999): The Ecclesiastical History of the English People. (Edited and translated by Judith McClure and Roger Collins.) Oxford. BJORK, R.E. (2013): The Old English Poems by Cynewulf. Cambridge, Massachusetts. CAMPBELL, J.J. (2001): “Cynewulf’s Multiple Revelations” in: BJORK, R. (ed.): The Cynewulf reader. (Basic Readings in Anglo-Saxon England.) New York, 147-169. DINAPOLI, R. (1998): “Poesis and authority: traces of an Anglo-Saxon agon in Cynewulf’s Elene”, Neophilologus 82, 619-630. DOUBLEDAY, J. (1975): “The speech of Stephen and the tone of Elene”, in: NICHOLSON, L.E./ WARWICH FRESE, D. (eds.). Anglo-Saxon poetry: essays in appreciation. For John C. McGalliard. London and Notre Dame, 116-123. ENGBERG, N.J. (1984): “Mod-Mægen Balance in Elene, the Battle of Maldon and the Wanderer.” Neuphilologische Mitteilungen 85/2, 212-226. ESTES, H. (2006): “Colonisation and conversion in Cynewulf’s Elene”, in: KARKOV C.E./ HOWE, N. (eds.). Conversion and Colonization in Anglo-Saxon England. Tempe, Arizona, 133-152. FRY, D.K. (1969): “Themes and type-scenes in Elene 1-113”, Speculum 44:1, 35-45. GARDNER, J. (1970): “Cynewulf’s Elene: sources and structure”, Neophilologus 54, 65-76. GRADON, P. (1947): “Constantine and the Barbarians. A Note on the Old English ‘Elene’” Modern Language Review 42: 161-172. HARRIS, S.J. (2003): Race and ethnicity in Anglo-Saxon England. New York and London. HECKMAN, CH. (2009): “Things in Doubt: Inventio, Dialectic, and Jewish Secrets in Cynewulf’s Elene”. Journal of English and Germanic Philology, 449-480. HERMANN, J.P. (1989): Allegories of war: language and violence in Old English poetry. Michigan.

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HIGHAM, N.J. (2006): (Re-)Reading Bede. The Ecclesiastical History in Context. London and New York. HILL, T.D. (1980): “Bread and Stone Again: ‘Elene’ 611-18”, Neuphilologische Mitteilungen 81/3, 252-257. HILL, T.D. (2001): “Sapiential structure and Figural Narrative in the Old English Elene” in: BJORK, R. (ed.): The Cynewulf reader. (Basic Readings in Anglo-Saxon England.) New York, 207-228. IRVINE, S./ GODDEN, M.R. (2012): The Old English Boethius. With Verse Prologues and Epilogues Associated with King Alfred. Cambridge, Massachusetts. MICHELET, F.L. (2006): Creation, Migration, and Conquest: Imaginary Geography and Sense of Space in Old English Literature. Oxford. REGAN, C.A. (2001): “Evangelicism as the informing principle of Cynewyulf’s Elene”, in: BJORK, R. (ed.): The Cynewulf reader. (Basic Readings in Anglo-Saxon England.). New York, 251-280. SCHEIL, A.P. (2004): The Footsteps of Israel: Understanding Jews in Anglo-Saxon England. Ann Arbor. STANCLIFFE, C. (1995): “Oswald, ‘Most Holy and Most Victorious King of the Northumbria”, in: STANCLIFFE, C./ CAMBRIDGE, E. (eds.): Oswald: Northumbrian King to European Saint. Stamford, 33-83. WHATLEY, E.G. (1975): “Bread and Stone: Cynewulf’s Elene 611-618”, Neuphilologische Mitteilungen 76, 550-560. WHATLEY, E.G. (1975): “Old English Onomastics and Narrative Art: Elene 1062”, Modern Philology 73, 109-120. WHATLEY, E.G. (1981): “The Figure of Constantine the Great in Cynewulf’s ‘Elene’”, Traditio 37, 161-202. WORMALD, P. (2006): The Times of Bede: Studies in Early English Christian Society and its Historian. Malden. WRIGHT, CH.D. (1990): “The Pledge of the Soul: A Judgment Theme in Old English Homiletic Literature and Cynewulf’s Elene”, Neuphilologische Mitteilungen 91, 23-30. WRIGHT, E.F. (1975): “Cynewulf’s Elene and the ‘Sinal Sacu’”, Neuphilologische Mitteilungen 76, 538-549. ZOLLINGER, C.W. (2004): “Cynewulf’s Elene and the Patterns of the Past”, Journal of English and Germanic Philology 103, 180-196.


RADOSŁAW JAKUBCZYK (KRAKÓW)

LA CATHÉDRALE GOTHIQUE ET LA CRYPTE: DE L’ASCENSION À LA DESCENTE

The article deals with the symbolism of the Gothic cathedral and crypt in Wyspiański’s “French” letters to Rydel, Huysmans’ and Berent’s novels, and in the art from the late 19th century through the early 20th century (Monet, Rodin). The cathedral represented in the examined works becomes a symbol of the need of the human soul to free oneself from the body and fly up to heaven. The crypt is considered a space of self-reflection and refuge. KEYWORDS: Gothic Cathedral, Crypt, Ascension, Descent, Symbolism

Les artistes fin-de-siècle1 attribuent fréquemment à la cathédrale gothique la fonction de l’organisme vivant, strictement associé au cycle de la vie et de la mort. Cette métaphore, qui fait principalement penser à la tradition vitruvienne, consiste en une recherche des analogies multiples entre l’architecture et le corps humain. Néanmoins, il ne s’agit pas uniquement de simple identification des éléments architecturaux aux formes corporelles, mais de la féminisation, de la masculinisation, voire de l’érotisation de l’édifice sacré. Les exemples littéraires de ce genre de métaphores corporelles sont nombreux: ainsi, pour Joris-Karl Huysmans (1848-1907), Notre-Dame de Chartres est «une blonde aux yeux bleus», et le style roman est «moins féminin» que le gothique (LC 165, 169)2; selon Stanisław Wyspiański (1869-1907), la cathédrale d’Amiens se caractérise par une «énorme force masculine» (LWR 98) etc. Bien entendu, les auteurs mentionnés ne se concentrent pas seulement sur le corps de l’édifice gothique – comme Victor Hugo ou Eugène Emmanuel Violletle-Duc (Emery 2001: 114; voir aussi Bałus 2008 et Leniaud 1994) – mais, avant tout, sur l’analyse approfondie de sa complexe symbolique, sur l’exploration d’esprit caché de l’architecture. En fait, les artistes fin-de-siècle rejettent l’idée 1 Par «fin-de-siècle» et «tournant du XIXe siècle», nous entendons dans cet article la période 1880-1918. 2 Nous appliquons les sigles suivants: (LC) = Huysmans 1898; (LWR) = Wyspiański 1979; (PV) = Berent 1931. Le chiffre entre parenthèses indique la page.

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romantique du matérialisme des monuments et se tournent vers la «psychologie des cathédrales», définie comme «étude de l’âme des sanctuaires» (LC 343). Les générations postromantiques se réfèrent d’une manière très critique aux tentatives de restaurer les édifices gothiques. Comme l’explique Huysmans, Notre-Dame de Paris n’a plus d’âme, devenue, à cause de sa ranimation, «un cadavre inerte de pierre» (LC 85). Pour Wyspiański, la même cathédrale a été enlaidie par Viollet-leDuc et privée de son ambiance unique3. Etant donné son aspect vertical, la finesse de construction, l’architecture gothique devient, à l’époque, «l’éternel symbole de la Psyché» (LC 221). Dans le présent article, nous nous pencherons sur certains «symboles ascensionnels», pour reprendre le terme durandien (Durand 1992: 162), à l’instar de la montagne, de la flèche, de l’échelle, de l’aile, afin de montrer comment cet aspect psychologique de l’édifice médiéval se présente dans la littérature et dans les arts du tournant du XIXe siècle. Comme une sorte de contrepoint, nous aborderons la question liée à la symbolique de la descente aux enfers, en nous référant à l’image de la crypte située en dedans de la cathédrale. Comme l’a remarqué avec perspicacité Gilbert Durand, «l’ascension est appel à l’extériorité, à un au-delà du charnel, l’axe de la descente est un axe intime, fragile et douillet» (Durand 1992: 227). L’ascension met l’accent sur l’élan vers le haut, sur la volonté de traverser symboliquement l’espace, sur le désir de transcendance, la descente sanctionne, par contre, le mouvement radicalement antithétique, vers le bas, et devient emblème de l’intimité profondément pénétrée. Ainsi donc, par analogie, «[...] si la cathédrale renvoie en mirroir l’image de l’extériorité du corps, de l’enveloppe charnelle, elle autorise parallèlement la projection de l’intériorité, dans la mesure où elle-même figure l’expansion de l’âme» (Prungnaud 2008a: 167). La cathédrale de style gothique figure l’âme qui s’efforce de se débarrasser de son corps terrestre pour transgresser la condition humaine, mais, à la fois, elle permet au visiteur d’y retrouver la quiétude, de s’absorber dans la méditation et pénétrer à l’intérieur de son âme. Puisse l’imaginaire de la montagne servir de point de départ à notre analyse. Sans doute, c’est l’analogie de la dimension, de la forme et de la matière qui justifie la représentation monumentale de l’édifice sacré sous forme de montagne ou bien de chaîne de montagnes. En premier lieu, cette corrélation de l’architecture et de la nature prête attention à l’aspect proprement cultuel de la cathédrale étant l’expression la plus pure de la verticalité et du désir d’évasion à la réalité céleste. Deuxièmement, ce type d’identification suggère que la cathédrale rend possible le passage d’un mode d’être à un autre, et qu’elle incarne le territoire où le moi quitte le monde.

3 Dans ce contexte, il convient de rappeler l’appel d’Auguste Rodin: «Oh! je vous en supplie, au nom de nos ancêtres et dans l’intérêt de nos enfants, ne cassez et ne restaurez plus!» (Rodin 1921: 134).


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Dans le chapitre huit du roman La Cathédrale (1898)4 de Huysmans se retrouve l’image fort énigmatique et riche en significations compliquées: A peine éclairée par les indigentes lueurs de réverbères isolés dans les coins de la place, la cathédrale prenait alors une étrange forme. Ses porches s’ouvraient en des cavernes pleines de nuit et le parcours extérieur de sa nef, compris entre les tours et l’abside, avec ses contreforts et ses arcs-boutants devinés dans l’ombre, se dressait ainsi qu’une falaise rongée par d’invisibles mers. L’on avait l’illusion d’une montagne déchiquetée à sa cime par des tempêtes, creusée dans le bas par des océans disparus, de profondes grottes; et si l’on s’approchait, l’on discernait dans l’obscurité de vagues sentiers abrupts courant le long de la falaise, serpentant en galeries au bord des rocs et parfois, dans ces noirs chemins, de blanches statues d’évêques surgissaient, en un rayon de lune, hantant comme des revenants ces ruines, bénissant, avec leurs doigts levés de pierre, les visiteurs (LC 219-220).

Au premier abord, tous les symboles cumulés dans ce fragment s’expliquent assez facilement et ne posent pas de difficulté à les déchiffrer. Tout de même, il est nécessaire d’entreprendre l’analyse la plus attentive possible pour ne pas réduire cette image polysémique aux conclusions trop générales. Au préalable, il convient de concentrer notre attention sur une métamorphose de la cathédrale, celle de Chartres, qui se transforme en une montagne rocheuse. C’est la nuit qui favorise ce type de déréalisation: la cathédrale éclairée par la lune perd ses contours réels et devient l’objet semi-réel, pour ne pas dire irréel, pour Durtal, en quelque sorte, indéfinissable5. En fait, l’obscurité limite la perception humaine et désoriente l’observateur incapable de saisir d’une manière rationnelle l’image métamorphique et floue de la cathédrale. L’édifice se métamorphose de façon complexe, mais cette transformation est momentannée et éphémère. Ainsi, une telle vision semble extrêmement intense et dynamique, on a ici affaire à une série d’images successives qui se confondent et font que le protagoniste huysmansien n’est pas en état de concrétiser ce qu’il observe. Qui plus est, la forme matérielle de l’édifice est contestée non seulement par sa transformation en objet différent, mais aussi par l’animisation des statues sculptées dans la pierre. Cependant, Durtal tente de (re)donner à cette vision une forme concrète: il énumère d’une manière obsessive plusieurs noms liés aux éléments, tels que l’océan, la mer, la grotte... Autrement dit, cette

4 Les fragments de ce roman ont été publiés pour la première fois dans le journal L’Écho de Paris en 1897 (Emery 2000: 125). 5 Durtal est le protagoniste de la tétralogie huysmansienne: Là-bas (1891), En route (1895), La Cathédrale (1898), L’Oblat (1903). Le lecteur de ces œuvres a l’occasion de suivre la métamorphose profonde du héros qui s’inspire tout d’abord du satanisme pour se convertir finalement au christianisme. Dans la troisième œuvre du cycle, Durtal avoue: «Dieu m’a subitement saisi et il m’a ramené vers l’Église, en utilisant pour me capter mon amour de l’art, de la mystique, de la liturgie, du plain-chant» (LC 472). Bien des chercheurs identifient ce personnage romanesque à Huysmans (converti en 1892), en faisant références à la biographie du romancier. De 1885 à 1935, presque 150 intellectuels français se sont convertis au catholicisme, entre autres: Léon Bloy, Paul Claudel, Charles Péguy, Paul Bourget, Max Jacob (Gugelot 1998: 19).

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concrétisation se fait à travers le processus de nominalisation; le héros huysmansien nomme ce qu’il voit pour définir la vision produite par son imagination. Cette courte analyse préliminaire menera aux conclusions plus détaillées, si l’on applique la notion de «Centre» proposée jadis par Mircea Eliade6. Selon sa conception cosmogonique, la montagne se trouve juste entre le ciel et la terre, elle fonctionne à la fois en tant que «centre du monde» et constitue l’axe (axis mundi) à travers lequel deux dimensions passent directement: la sphère du sacré et du profane. Dans le long passage précité, ce schéma paraît bien marqué soit par la verticalité ascendante, soit par la bipartition de l’espace indiquée par la dialectique du haut et du bas. La perspective verticale est, de surcroît, renforcée par la direction de la description (vers le haut), ainsi que par les formes verbales («se dressait»). Dans ce contexte, la cathédrale représentée sous la forme de montagne est «un résumé du ciel et de la terre» (LC 479), comme le proclame Durtal, à savoir elle compose l’espace de l’harmonisation de deux ordres contraires. Deuxièmement, chaque centre constitue, d’après Eliade, une sorte de lieu par excellence hiérophanique où l’ordre du sacré se manifeste directement. En raison de son inaccessibilité à l’homme, de son caractère mystérieux et majestueux, la montagne est traditionnellement perçue comme séjour des dieux, lieu sacralisé et espace des révélations (Cf. Dupeyron-Lafay 2008). En ce qui concerne le fragment analysé, il est possible de considérer la cathédrale-montagne comme un point central où la médiation du sacré s’effectue à travers les statues animées des évêques. Notons que l’immatérialité et l’instantanéité de cette manifestation du sacré (qui «hante comme des revenants», comme le note Huysmans) vont ici de pair avec la dématérialisation de l’édifice se transformant en une ruine. Troisièmement, le passage d’un ordre à un autre s’accomplit exclusivement dans le Centre, généralement prédisposé aux ruptures spatiales. Dans l’extrait ci-dessus, c’est la grotte ténébreuse située au dedans de la cathédralemontagne qui autorise ce genre d’ouverture et rend possible la sublimation de l’âme vers l’infini. Ainsi, chez Huysmans, la cathédrale-montagne fonctionne en tant que lieu de transition permettant à l’observateur de traverser le seuil, c’est-à-dire laisser un ordre pour passer à un autre. L’auteur d’À rebours attribue à cet édifice fantasmagorique le rôle du point de médiation entre la réalité visible et invisible. C’est la nuit qui favorise ce type de «rencontre» et contribue à la situation dans laquelle une autre perception du monde est possible. Dans une grotte profonde et ténébreuse, l’observateur éprouve l’ubiquité du sacré et effectue à la fois le voyage en soi qui consiste à pénétrer les régions inconnues et les plus sombres de son intérieur. Certes, la montagne devient ici synonyme d’un territoire de la médiation, ainsi que de la Voici la définition eliadesque du «Centre»: «a) la Montagne Sacrée – où se rencontrent le Ciel et la Terre – se trouve au centre du Monde; b) tout temple ou palais – et, par extension, toute ville sacrée ou résidence royale – est une ‘montagne sacrée’, devenant ainsi un Centre; c) étant un Axis Mundi, la cité ou le temple sacré sont considérés comme point de rencontre entre le Ciel, la Terre et l’Enfer» (Eliade 1961: 30-31). 6


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méditation, de l’isolement, voire de l’idiologie. Une telle expérience spirituelle ou existentielle est précédée par l’acte de régénération de l’âme, vécu gràce à la force vitale et purifiante de l’eau. Les forces aquatiques mises en mouvement dans le fragment analysé constituent donc, conformément à la symbolique traditionnelle, des matières lustrales qui opèrent une renaissance, en rétablissant l’être dans un état nouveau (Chevalier 1986: 377). Qui plus est, elles jouent également le rôle d’un élément liminaire qui sépare deux ordres opposés. Avant de se trouver par delà, il faut non seulement traverser la matière humide, mais aussi s’ouvrir pleinement à sa force régénératrice. Dans cette optique, il est tout naturel d’identifier la cathédrale à l’âme; le processus de fluidification ou de dématérialisation de la construction, qui symbolise la volonté ardente de se délivrer de sa matière considérée comme «gangue terrestre» (LC 163) pour s’élever vers l’absolu, reste en étroite relation avec les tentatives de l’âme de se libérer symboliquement du corps et de s’essorer afin d’entrer en rapport avec la réalité invisible. Telle la cathédrale gothique qui exprime la nostalgie de l’impondérabilité et de l’élancement, l’âme tente de surmonter le poids du corps dans lequel elle a été emprisonnée, en l’allégeant, le rendant fluide et moins pesant. La substance diaphane de l’eau substitue le matériau opaque de la pierre, et cette transformation représente le moment du passage à un élément immatériel. Pareillement, dans le roman historique Żywe kamienie (Les pierres vivantes) de Wacław Berent (1873-1940), paru en 1918, on compare les tours d’église au sommet aigu d’une montagne7. En voici le passage dans la traduction de Paul Cazin: Au-dessus des toits rougissants, de leurs dentelures capricieuses et de la bousculade de leurs lignes, au-dessus de ce chaos de bâtisses humaines, se penchent, avec la sérénité des montagnes, les deux tours de la cathédrale. Le maçon audacieux voulait les appointir en aiguilles aériennes, au milieu du vol des nuages. Mais la volonté du roi en a brisé les flèches à mi-hauteur, posant sur leur sommet tronqué deux couronnes gigantesques, afin qu’elles parussent de loin plus effrayantes, qu’elles surgissent au-dessus de la ville comme deux montagnes turriformes, aux fronts altiers, ceints du diadème, et qu’elles rappelassent aux hommes ce que dit l’Ecriture: que Dieu est un roi élevé, terrible et grand, qui domine toute la terre (PV 106).

Cette image romanesque s’appuie clairement sur le schème de l’élévation qui renvoie à deux symboles verticalisants. Le premier, la montagne rocheuse, fait facilement penser à l’idée de l’envol et de l’ascension psychique. Comme nous l’avons déjà signalé, la représentation de l’édifice sacré sous la forme de montagne introduit, par la force des choses, la division de l’espace en deux perspectives antagoniques: la terrestre et la surhumaine. Dans le fragment précité, une telle polarité spatiale 7 Il ne sera pas inutile de mentionner que la cathédrale représentée dans ce roman est anonyme. Le romancier polonais crée «la cathédrale des cathédrales» (Czermińska 2005: 174), ou l’assemblage de détails architecturaux empruntés à divers monuments. Pourtant, on pourrait supposer que la ville où se déroule l’action romanesque est située en Allemagne, probablement dans la Vallée du Rhin.

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influence une sorte d’impossibilité de laisser l’ordre humain, perçu comme territoire du chaos, pour passer à l’ordre surhumain, considéré comme macrocosme. Cette représentation de la cathédrale-montagne, qui fait implicitement appel à la symbolique biblique de la Tour de Babel (évoquée dans la Genèse, 11: 1-9), montre bien que le désir humain d’atteindre physiquement le ciel est tout à fait irréalisable. L’ambition de l’homme-architecte était de s’approcher, grâce à sa construction monumentale, du mystère divin, mais c’est à travers l’expérience purement spirituelle, non matérielle ou corporelle, que l’homme a la possibilité d’entrer en contact avec la transcendence. D’ailleurs, cette prééminence de l’immatériel sur le matériel se voit directement dans le passage étudié où la dimension hiperbolisée de la construction s’efface, en un sens, en confrontation avec la divinité gigantisée. Ainsi donc, il semble que le deuxième symbole ascensionnel, la flèche dirigée tout droit vers le ciel, devient ici figure de l’ascension inaccomplie, parce qu’elle constitue une espèce de point final, humainement impossible à dépasser. La divinité puissante impose les limites à la volonté humaine de connaître des régions interdites et immobilise la matière de pierre qui incarne l’obsession perpétuelle (partant: irréalisable) de s’unir avec l’infini. Puisque la perception humaine, limitée aux faits vérifiables à l’aide des sens, n’a pas d’accès direct et complet à la connaissance divine, l’homme ne peut que s’en remettre à la médiation du sacré. Indubitablement, une telle vision d’une cathédrale anonyme représentée dans le roman de Berent contraste avec celle fixée sur la toile de Claude Monet (1840-1926) Vue générale de Rouen (1892)8. Notre-Dame de Rouen se trouve, plus ou moins, en plein centre du tableau, elle domine la ville et fait que les bâtiments voisins se serrent autour d’elle. Incarcérée dans un territoire trop petit, encerclée précisément par d’innombrables constructions urbaines, architectoniquement irrégulières et accumulées de manière extrêmement dense, la cathédrale cherche à s’éloigner verticalement de l’espace claustrophobe. Une telle organisation spatiale centripète sert, semble-t-il, de prétexte au changement de perspective; la cathédrale devient miroir de l’univers, elle paraît placée au centre du macrocosme. La perspective microcosmique de l’espace serré, limité à la position dominante de l’édifice médiéval se transforme alors en une perspective macrocosmique où la cathédrale joue le rôle du Centre du Monde. De plus, ce type de dualité spatiale est marqué par l’opposition de couleurs, ainsi que par une espèce de ligne continue et horizontale qui divise le tableau en deux parties asymétriques. Le mélange aussi dynamique que chaotique des couleurs intenses, à commencer par le rose pour finir sur le pourpre, qui dessine la multiformité architecturale de la ville au cœur de laquelle se profile majestueusement la cathédrale, s’oppose clairement à la féerie mystique du ciel 8 Entre 1892 et 1893, Monet a peint trente tableaux représentant la façade occidentale de NotreDame de Rouen sous éclairages différents. En mai 1895, il a exposé à la galérie Durand-Ruel vingt tableaux de la série (Prungnaud 2008a: 81; cf. Le Men 1998).


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chargé de nuages. L’opposition des couleurs souligne également une tension entre la masse architecturale et la légèreté aérienne, entre la pesanteur, l’obscurcissement de l’élément chtonien et l’apesanteur, la luminosité de l’élément ouranien – comme l’aurait dit Durand. En revanche, une ligne démarcative censure, métaphoriquement parlant, l’envol de l’édifice, en le situant dans la position intermédiaire, c’est-àdire entre le ciel et la terre. Mais, tel le carrefour de deux sphères, la cathédrale privilégie le passage à la réalité extra-terrestre; c’est la flèche en saillie qui rend possible une rupture spatiale, car, visiblement, elle perce l’horizon et rend possible l’ouverture sur l’illimité. Il convient maintenant de passer à l’analyse du symbole important de l’aile, estimée comme «attribut de voler» et «outil ascensionnel par excellence» (Durand 1992: 145, 144). Dans les lettres de Wyspiański, fruit de son premier voyage artistique en France en 1890 lors duquel il a visité les plus grandes cathédrales françaises (Chartres, Amiens, Rouen, Reims, Laon), nous lisons: L’édifice s’élève dans l’air et se spiritualise vers le ciel – en le regardant, on a l’impression [...] qu’il «a des ailes d’ange», qu’il percera la voûte céleste de verre, que la puissance des oraisons ardentes cachées dans ses murs découdra le ciel d’un bleu azuréen – qu’il atteindra la gloire de dieu... et que les trônes descendront l’échelle de Jacob en criant hosanna au fils de David9.

Il est remarquable que dans ce bref passage la métaphore des ailes d’ange correspond à la figure biblique (légèrement modifiée) aux connotations ascensionnelles, à savoir l’échelle de Jacob, dont la base s’appuie sur la terre et le sommet se perd dans le haut, ce qui permet aux anges de descendre du ciel et d’y remonter10. Etre surnaturel dont le statut n’est ni ontologiquement évident ni unidimensionnel, l’ange figure le fantasme d’envol ou bien renvoie à l’idée de la chute. Pareillement, l’échelle de Jacob fonctionne dans les représentations iconographiques soit en tant qu’épreuve de la montée d’échelon en échelon vers la réalité céleste, soit comme allégorie dramatique de l’échec de l’homme qui retombe brusquement sur la terre en essayant de s’élever (Cf. Mâle 1919: 131-133). Nul doute que dans l’extrait cité nous ayons affaire à la représentation quasi-poétique de l’ascension dynamique; ailée et angélisée, la cathédrale est non seulement synonyme de l’envol euphorique, mais 9 C’est moi qui traduis, R.J. Texte original: «Cały gmach snuje się w górę, rozmodlił się ku niebu – patrząc nań zdaje się, […] że „skrzydeł anielskich dostaje”, że przebije szklany strop gwiezdny, że potęga i siła modłów zaklętych w jego złomy przepruje lazurowy szmat błękitu – że tam w górze dosięgnie boga w jego glorii niebieskiej… i jak po drabinie Jakubowej zstąpią nań chóry anielskie wołając synowi Dawidowemu hosanna!» (LWR 128). 10 Chose curieuse, c’est Jean-Baptiste Lassus qui se sert, bien avant Wyspiański, de la métaphore de l’échelle de Jacob dans le contexte de l’édifice gothique. Dans Histoire et description des mœurs et usages, du commerce et de l’industrie, des sciences, des arts, des littératures et des beaux-arts en Europe (1851), il écrit comme suit: «Les monuments gothiques emportent l’esprit vers le ciel où s’élancent leurs pyramides: on croirait que l’artiste a voulu dresser autant d’échelles de Jacob, pour mettre l’homme en rapport avec Dieu» (Cité d’après: Leniaud 1980: 122-123).

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également de la beauté idéale, sinon absolue. L’édifice médiéval vainc sa pesanteur et se libère de sa matérialité inutile pour prendre son vol; c’est pour cette raison qu’elle devient l’expression la plus pure de la matière spiritualisée ou éthérée qui s’oppose à l’opacité de la pierre. Ce qui rend possible ce genre d’élévation, c’est bien l’échelle qui constitue le moyen de médiation ou une sorte de plateforme invisible qui unit l’en-deçà avec l’au-delà. Comme nous l’avons déjà constaté, la forme substantielle, pour ne pas dire charnelle, de la cathédrale gothique n’est qu’une irradiation de son aspect ascensionnel. Comme le précise Émile Mâle dans sa monographie de L’art religieux du XIIIe siècle en France (publiée en 1898), «la sublimité des grandes lignes verticales agit d’abord sur l’âme» (Mâle 1919: 463). Rien d’étonnant que les artistes fin-de-siècle se réfèrent volontairement aux métaphores corporelles qui servent le plus souvent, mais non exclusivement, de prétexte à montrer le désir fervent de spiritualisation ou de sublimation de l’âme. Effectivement, ils mettent en œuvre tout un réseau notionnel pris d’un domaine anatomique afin de signaler intentionnellement le caractère suppliant, pour ainsi dire, de l’architecture gothique. Par exemple, Huysmans compare les tours de l’édifice aux mains tendues vers le ciel: Et cette alégorie de la vie mystique, décelée par l’intérieur de la cathédrale, se complète au dehors par l’aspect suppliant de l’édifice. Affolée par la joie de l’union, l’âme, désespérée de vivre, n’aspire plus qu’à s’évader pour toujours de la géhenne de sa chair; aussi adjuret-elle l’Epoux avec les bras levés de ses tours, d’avoir pitié d’elle, de venir la chercher, de la prendre par les mains jointes de ses clochers pour l’arracher de terre et l’emmener avec lui, au ciel (LC 479-480).

Pareillement chez Berent: Et, en effet, au-dessus de l’incendie, les deux tours, étaient devenus plus noires; toute la cathédrale ressemblait à un géant fantastique, à genoux, les deux bras tendus vers le ciel, dont il appelait les vengeances sur la ville coupable (PV 206).

Ces deux fragments littéraires correspondent bien à la sculpture de Rodin intitulée La Cathédrale (1908) qui représente deux mains droites tendues verticalement, dont les doigts tentent de se joindre subtilement, comme dans le geste intime de prière. Ces deux mains qui appartiennent à deux individus différents symbolisent, semble-t-il, deux univers particuliers qui essaient d’entrer en contact physique, mais puisque l’unification complète, purement matérielle, est impossible, sont condamnés à une communication spirituelle. Il paraît que c’est dans cet esprit que les passages cités pourraient aussi être décryptés. Prisonnière de la matière imparfaite et inutile car appartenant à ce monde, l’âme ne peut s’unifier entièrement avec la réalité qu’elle préfigure et s’efforce de se débarrasser «de la géhenne de sa chair» pour s’élancer vers l’infini. Dans la mesure où cette métaphore, d’ailleurs très symptomatique pour la réflexion sur


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l’architecture médiévale entreprise au XIXe siècle, illustre la volonté humaine de s’éloigner du fini pendant le recueillement profond dans l’édifice à destination cultuelle, les fragments examinés attirent notre attention sur la verticalité de la cathédrale qui s’exprime explicitement par sa forme extérieure. Tel est aussi le sens de la constatation de Mâle: par sa forme verticale, l’extériorité de l’édifice gothique s’adresse à la sensibilité, à l’esprit de l’individu. Autrement dit, l’homme admire tout d’abord la beauté sublime de la cathédrale, pour se plonger finalement dans une contemplation approfondie, dans une prière individuelle grâce auxquelles il entrerait en communion avec la sphère du sacré. Aux antipodes du symbolisme de l’ascension se trouve, théoriquement, la question liée à la descente aux enfers. Du point de vue de l’imaginaire spatial, l’épreuve souterraine consiste à descendre tantôt des escaliers escarpés et tournants, tantôt des corridors obscurs et claustrants pour se trouver au fond des ténèbres. Ce parcours vers le bas, solitaire ou accompagné d’un mentor, qui s’accomplit habituellement dans un espace sombre et hostile peut aisément se transformer en une chute ou en une expérience erratique, voire labyrinthique. Dans l’espace souterrain parcouru à tâtons où on est condamné à répéter inépuisablement les gestes et les mouvements, il est facile de se perdre ou, tout simplement, errer sans aucun but. Pourtant, la descente peut en même temps s’inverser en montée, car, paradoxalement, c’est dans l’obscurité omniprésente des profondeurs que l’individu retrouve sa paix et revient à la clarté. Plongé dans les ténèbres profondes, enfermé dans un terrain abyssal, l’homme descend en soi; comme il a été dit plus haut, cet acte tout à fait intime et personnel conduit à l’autoconnaissance et prend forme de l’envol, au sens métaphorique du mot, vers la luminosité. C’est principalement La Cathédrale de Huysmans qui nous offre une description détaillée de quelques pages concernant la descente de Durtal à la crypte chartraine, «la plus vaste et la plus remarquable qui existe en France» (Bulteau 1850: 270; lire aussi Durand 1881: 1-13 et Viollet-le-Duc 1868: 447-461), où il assiste avec ravissement à la messe catholique (Cf. Prungnaud 2008b). Au commencement du chapitre quatre, le protagoniste relate, entre autres: On y descendait par un escalier de cave qu’éclairait une petite lampe dont la mèche grésillait, emplissant de fumée son verre; une fois parvenu au bas des marches, on avançait, en inclinant sur la gauche, dans les ténèbres, puis, à certains tournants, quelques quinquets rougeoyaient indiquant le circuit que l’on décrivait dans ces atermoiements de lumière et d’ombre, et l’on finissait par se rendre à peu près compte de la forme de cette crypte. Elle figurait assez bien la moitié d’un moyeu de roue d’où s’emboîtaient des rais filant dans tous les sens, pour rejoindre la circonférence même de la roue. Dans l’allée circulaire où l’on cheminait, rayonnaient, en lames dépliées d’éventail, des corridors au bout desquels l’on discernait des vitres en brouillard qui paraissaient presque claires dans la nuit opaque des murs (LC 90-91).

Cette déambulation solitaire au fond de la zone sépulcrale s’effectue nettement dans un rythme circulaire; le protagoniste chemine lentement et intuitivement de

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plus en plus vers le bas, en se plongeant tantôt dans la pénombre, tantôt dans l’obscurité totale, et en passant par un nombre interminable d’escaliers, de détours, circuits, corridors... Un tel cheminement malaisé à travers cet espace angoissant car situé sous la terre où la lumière du jour presque ne passe pas, où on ne peut que reconnaître les contours indistincts des choses et des êtres prétend au rôle initiatique. Les vitres au bout de la crypte donnant de la lumière dans sa matière opaque réflètent, semble-t-il, le processus analogique qui se produit à l’intérieur de l’initié. Grâce à ce long parcours souterrain il se plonge profondément dans les ténèbres de son âme pour retrouver la clarté à l’étape ultime de ce voyage en soi: «Et Durtal, allégé, partait. A cette heure le souterrain était devenu, avec l’aube, plus clair» (LC 98) – conclut Huysmans. Par surcroît, en pénétrant dans un espace ténébreux et effrayant de l’inhumation Durtal assimile à plusieurs reprises sa valeur négative, originairement mortuaire, à l’intimité. Voici deux fragments qui en témoignent: dans ces malaises de frissons qui houlent au dedans de vous, qui se traduisent corporellement par un manque d’air, dans cet état si particulier où il semble que la tête soit vide, que le cerveau ne fonctionne plus, que la vie soit réfugiée dans le cœur qui gonfle et vous étouffe, où il semble, spirituellement aussi, lorsqu’on reprend assez d’énergie pour se ressaisir, pour regarder au dedans de soi, que l’on se penche, dans un silence effrayant, sur un trou noir (LC 97); Une tiédeur extraordinaire soufflait dans ce caveau qui répandait aussi un singulier parfum où revenait, dans un souvenir de terre humide, un relent de cire chaude [...]. C’était une exhalaison mystérieuse et confuse, comme la crypte même qui, avec ses lueurs furtives et ses pans d’ombre, était à la fois pénitentielle et douillette, étrange (LC 91; nous soulignons).

Ce qui frappe dans ces passages, c’est, sans conteste, l’inversion euphémisante du sens usuel du caveau qui fonctionne ici en tant que symbole du refuge et de l’intimité. Cette triade adjectivale montre bien que, malgré sa destination mortuaire et sa localisation souterraine, la crypte, par son immobilité et sa tranquillité, devient emblème du retour sur soi-même. Dans une certaine mesure, on pourrait même comparer cette crypte avec le purgatoire symbolique où l’initié effectue le voyage tout à fait personnel pour purger son âme ou, tout simplement, faire pénitence. Aussi, une telle valorisation positive du caveau implique, par analogie, le renversement significatif de la perception nocturne: dès lors, toutes les associations négatives (des ténèbres menaçantes, des profondeurs humides, un silence sinistre) s’inversent en valeurs bienfaisantes (l’atmosphère douillette, le tiédissement de l’air). Le manque de clarté et l’enfermement dans une zone étroite paralysent d’abord tout le corps qui tombe dans une inertie complète, mais, avec le temps, cet état d’anéantissement se transforme en une expérience de plénitude et de recueillement qui permettent à l’initié de «regarder au dedans de soi».


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A la lumière de l’analyse que nous venons d’entreprendre, il s’avère que les deux dynamismes spatiaux, ascendant et descendant, quoique essentiellement antinomiques, montrent une affinité subtile dans le cadre de l’imaginaire de la cathédrale. En tant qu’édifice irréductiblement sacré, espace intime de l’isolement, la cathédrale gothique invite l’homme à la transgression du réel ou/et à l’émergence des ténèbres. Ainsi comprises, l’ascension et la descente figurent, l’une et l’autre, la tentative humaine à coloration quasiment dramatique, celle de réussir une montée lumineuse considérée comme opposition de la chute.

BIBLIOGRAPHIE BAŁUS, W. (2008): “La Cathédrale of Joris-Karl Huysmans and the Symbolical Interpretation of the Gothic Cathedral in the 19th Century”, Artibus et Historiae, 57, 165-182. BERENT, V. (1931): Les pierres vivantes, Paris. BULTEAU, M.J. (1850): Description de la cathédrale de Chartres, Chartres. CHEVALIER, J. (1986): Le dictionnaire des symboles: mythes, rêves, coutumes, gestes, formes, figures, couleurs, nombres, Paris. CZERMIŃSKA, M. (2005): Gotyk i pisarze. Topika opisu katedry, Gdańsk. DUPEYRON-LAFAY, F. (2008): “La sacralisation littéraire et picturale de la montagne au XIXe siècle: (re)naissances et épiphanies”, Anglophonia. French Journal of English Studies, 23, 173-181. DURAND, G. (1992): Les structures anthropologiques de l’imaginaire. Introduction à l’archétypologie générale, Paris. DURAND, P. (1881): Monographie de Notre-Dame de Chartres. Explication des planches, Paris. ELIADE, M. (1961): Mythe de l’éternel retour. Archétypes et répétition, Paris. EMERY, E. (2000): “J.-K. Huysmans, Medievalist”, Modern Language Studies, 30, 119-131. EMERY, E. (2001): Romancing the Cathedral. Gothic Architecture in Fin-de-Siècle French Culture, New York. GUGELOT, F. (1998): La conversion des intellectuels au catholicisme en France (1885-1935), Paris. HUYSMANS, J.-K. (1898): La Cathédrale, Paris. LE MEN, S. (1998): La cathédrale illustrée de Hugo à Monet. Regard romantique et modernité, Paris. LENIAUD, J.-M. (1980): Jean-Baptiste Lassus (1807-1857) ou le temps retrouvé des cathédrales, Genève. LENIAUD, J.-M. (1994): Viollet-le-Duc, ou les délires du système, Paris. MâLE, É. (1919): L’art religieux du XIIIe siècle en France. Etude sur l’iconographie du Moyen Âge et sur ses sources d’inspiration, Paris. PRUNGNAUD, J. (2008a): Figures littéraires de la cathédrale (1880-1918), Villeneuve d’Ascq. PRUNGNAUD, J. (2008b): “Liturgie et imaginaire de la cathédrale en littérature (1880-1914)”, Art sacré. Cahiers de Rencontre avec le Patrimoine religieux, 26, 25-33. RODIN, A. (1921): Les cathédrales de France, Paris. VIOLLET-LE-DUC, E.E. (1868): Dictionnaire raisonné de l’architecture française du XIe au XVIe siècle, vol. 4, Paris. WYSPIAŃSKI, S. (1979): Listy do Lucjana Rydla, cz. 1: Listy i notatnik z podróży, Kraków.


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NACHRUF AUF HEINZ VATER Keiner von uns lebt für sich selbst

In seinem Artikel von 2015 befasst sich Heinz Vater mit Kasusveränderungen im Deutschen und bezieht sich in den Vorbemerkungen auf den Titel der Motette „Unser keiner lebet ihm selber“ von Heinrich Schütz (1585-1672), um an diesem Beispiel die Veränderungen und zugleich den Sprachwandel im Gebrauch der Pronomina und der Verbflexion zu veranschaulichen. Er argumentiert, dass im heutigen Deutsch dieser Titel den Wortlaut „Keiner von uns lebt für sich selbst“ haben müsste. Diesen Titel hat Heinz Vater nicht nur für seinen Beitrag als Motto gewählt, er möchte ihn auch zum Motto seines Lebens machen (Vater 2015: 217). Heinz Vater, Professor emeritus der Universität zu Köln, ein nicht nur in Europa bekannter Linguist, ein begnadeter Hochschullehrer und ein großer Freund Polens, ist am 18. Juni 2015 im Alter von 82 Jahren verstorben und ruht im Familiengrab auf dem Friedhof Miersdorf (Straße der Freiheit 60) in Zeuthen bei Berlin. Heinz Vater wurde am 29.7.1932 in Frankfurt (Oder) als ältestes Kind geboren. In seinem Lebenslauf (Vater 2010a: 14) schreibt er: „Da meine Mutter Jüdin war und meine Schwester und ich nicht gleich nach der Geburt christlich getauft worden waren, wurde meine Familie auf Grund der 1935 erlassenen Nürnberger Gesetze als (nichtpriviligierte) ‚Mischehe‘ eingestuft“. Er durfte nur kurz die jüdische Schule in der Rykestraße (Berlin, Prenzlauer Berg) und dann eine „Mischlingschule“ besuchen, die 1942 samt allen jüdischen Schulen geschlossen wurde. Nach der Verschleppung ihrer Großmutter Nissel Weißmann1 nach Theresienstadt und anschließend nach Auschwitz mussten sie (d.h. Heinz, seine Schwester Ursula und deren Mutter) sich verstecken, da ihnen die Gefahr drohte, ins Vernichtungslager deportiert zu werden. Gegen Ende des Krieges 1 In Frankfurt (Oder), in der Lindenstr. 29 (früher 17) vor dem Haus, wo seine Eltern und die Großmutter lebten, befindet sich ein Stolperstein, der Nissel Weißman gewidmet ist (vgl. N Schicksale).

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konnten sie in Frankfurt einen Unterschlupf finden – „Mein Vater errichtete uns im Keller ein Versteck (mit Schlafstellen und Lebensmitteln, die uns das Überleben ermöglichten). In der Nacht vom 22. zum 23. April rückte die Rote Armee ein und die furchtbare Verfolgung durch die Nazis hatte ein Ende“ (Vater 2010a: 15). In Frankfurt hat Heinz Vater die Grundschule und das Gymnasium besucht und anschließend 1951 das Abitur gemacht. – „Jahre sollten jedoch vergehen, ehe wir völlig ungezwungen und freundschaftlich mit anderen Schülern umgehen konnten. Lange Zeit wechselte ich zur anderen Straßenseite, wenn mir andere Jugendliche begegneten“ (N Schicksale). Heinz Vater studierte Germanistik an der Humboldt-Universität zu Berlin und nach dem 1955 mit „sehr gut“ bestandenen Staatsexamen holte ihn „der Direktor des Instituts für deutsche Sprache an der Deutschen Akademie der Wissenschaften in (Ost-) Berlin, Prof. Dr. Wolfgang Steinitz, als Assistent an die Akademie“ (Vater 2010a: 16). Er arbeitete zunächst im Forschungsprojekt „Wörterbuch der deutschen Gegenwartssprache“ und nach einem Jahr in der Arbeitsstelle Strukturelle Grammatik (u.a. mit Manfred Bierwisch, Wolfdietrich Hartung, Karl-Erich Heidolph, Wolfgang Motsch, Renate Steinitz). – „Wir hatten die Aufgabe, uns in den linguistischen Strukturalismus einzuarbeiten, der damals infolge der Vertreibung deutscher Linguisten durch die Nazis in Deutschland nahezu unbekannt war“ (Vater 2010a: 16). 1961 reichte er an der Humboldt-Universität seine Dr.-Diss. Das System der Artikelformen im Deutschen ein. Die Arbeit wurde mit „summa cum laude“ von Prof. Dr. Wolfgang Steinitz und Prof. Dr. Alexander Isačenko begutachtet, auch das Rigorosum hatte er hinter sich. Die Verteidigung der Dissertation war für den 6. Oktober 1961 anberaumt. Da sich die politische Situation in Ostberlin zuspitzte und es am 13.08.1961 zur Absperrung der Grenze nach Westberlin kam, entschied sich Heinz Vater zu fliehen. Die Gelegenheit zur Flucht bot sich am 24. September, als er „zu einem Einsatz der Betriebskampfgruppe in der Bernauer Straße an die Berliner Sektorengrenze kommandiert wurde. Wir mussten Bewohner der Grenzhäuser ausquartieren, die später niedergerissen wurden, um freies Schussfeld zur Verfolgung von Flüchtingen zu schaffen“ (Vater 2013a: 62). Bei diesem Einsatz sprang er aus dem 1.Stock und erlitt dabei u.a. Fersenbeinbruch, so dass er einige Wochen im Virchow-Krankenhaus verbringen musste. Nach der Genesung arbeitete er zunächst bei der Gesellschaft für deutsche Sprache in Lüneburg im Forschungsprojekt „Aktueller deutscher Wortschatz“, anschließend am Institut für Allgemeine und Vergleichende Sprachwissenschaft an der Universität Hamburg bei Prof. Hans Hartmann. An der Universität Hamburg hatte er auch seine Dissertation eingereicht und verteidigt (Gutachter waren Prof. Dr. Hans Hartmann und Prof. Dr. Werner Simon). 1969 habilitierte er mit der Arbeit über Dänische Subjekt- und Objektsätze; danach ging er für drei Jahre nach Bloomington in Indiana, wo er die Stelle als Associate Professor für germanistische Linguistik inne hatte. 1972 nahm er einen Ruf an die Universität Köln als Professor für Sprachwissenschaft des Deutschen an und baute dort die moderne Linguistik von Grund an auf. An der Universität Köln blieb er bis zu seiner Emeritierung im Jahre 1997 tätig. Prof. Heinz Vater war sein ganzes Leben sehr aktiv und hat grosse Verdienste um die Entwicklung der deutschen Linguistik und der polnischen Germanistik. Er gehörte zu den Mitbegründern der Deutschen Gesellschaft für Sprachwissenschaft (1997) und war zwei Jahre (1986-1988) deren Vorsitzender. Zusammen mit Winfried Boeder und Johannes Meyer-Ingwersen veranstaltete er in Hamburg-Harburg das erste Linguistische Kolloquium2 – „damals noch als Linguistisches Kolloquium zur Generativen Grammatik“ (Vater 2013b: 477) genannt. In den Jahren 1972-1995 war er Mitherausgeber der Reihe Linguistische Arbeiten (Niemeyer Verlag), 1972-1993 Mitherausgeber von Studien zur deutschen Grammatik (Gunter Narr Verlag), 1991-1999 Mitherausgeber von Fokus (Wissenschaftlicher Verlag Trier), 1978-2000 der Herausgeber der Reihe Kölner Linguistische Arbeiten – Germanistik (Reproduced by Linguistic Agency University at Trier; später bei Gabel Verlag). Er ist Verfasser3 von zwölf Monographien und von drei Monographien in Zusammenarbeit sowie von über 120 Aufsätzen und (Mit-)Herausgeber 2 Im September 2016 findet das 51. Linguistische Colloquium in Vilnius statt; drei wurden in Polen abgehalten – das 26. in Poznań, das 30. in Gdańsk und das 47. in Olsztyn. 3 Verzeichnis seiner Schriften bis 2010 ist in Vater (2010) enthalten.

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von elf Sammelbänden. In seine Forschung hat er viele Bereiche einbezogen: Phonetik und Phonologie, Morphologie, Syntax, Textlinguistik, Pragmatik, Psycholinguistik; Modalität, Tempusund Referenzsemantik, Sprachwandel. Seine Doktorarbeit Das System der Artikelformen wurde zweimal in der renommierten Reihe Linguistische Arbeiten aufgelegt und gehört heute zu den klassischen Grundsatzarbeiten. Einer großen Popularität in linguistischen Kreisen sowie unter den Studierenden erfreuen sich seine einleuchtenden, übersichtlichen Einführungen, z.B. Einführung in die Raum-Linguistik (drei Auflagen), Einführung in die Zeit-Linguistik (vier Auflagen), Einführung in die Phonologie (mit K.-H. Ramers, vier Auflagen), Einführung in die Textlinguistik (UTB, drei Auflagen), Einführung in die Sprachwissenschaft (UTB, vier Auflagen). Die zwei letzteren Einführungen4 wurden ins Polnische übersetzt und sind im Verlag ATUT in Wrocław erschienen. Heinz Vater hielt Vorträge und Vorlesungen in vielen Ländern Europas, in Nord- und Südamerika. Besonders oft war er in Polen – hier wirkte er auch einige Male als Gastprofessor an mehreren polnischen Universitäten, so 1983 an der Katholischen Universität Lublin, 2003 an der Universität Szczecin, 2004 an der Universität Wrocław und 2006 an der Universität Warschau. Auch in Paris, Sãn Paulo, Kaunas (Litauen) und Szeged war er als Gastprofessor tätig. Darüber hinaus hat er an fast allen Universitäten Polens5 Gastvorträge gehalten. In Anerkennung seiner Verdienste um die polnische Germanistik wurde ihm 2013 die Ehrenstatuette des Polnischen Germanistenverbandes verliehen. Die Universität Szeged verlieh Prof. Vater 2009 die Ehrendoktorwürde (Laudator: Prof. Péter Bassola). Ich kannte Prof. Heinz Vater persönlich seit seiner Gastprofessur in Lublin (1983); mehrere Jahre trafen wir uns jährlich zu den Beiratssitzungen der Zeitschrift CONVIVIUM. Germanistisches Jahhrbuch Polen. Nach einer der Sitzungen sind wir beide zu dem Schluss gekommen, dass es lohnend wäre, die Arbeiten von Heinz Vater breiteren Germanistenkreisen in Polen zugänglich zu machen. Ich habe diese Aufgabe übernommen (vgl. Vater 2010) und so hat sich unsere Zusammenarbeit vertieft. Einige Male habe ich an Konferenzen des von Heinz Vater und Oddleif Leirbukt 1992 gegründeten Arbeitskreises Modalität im Deutschen teilgenommen. Ich kann mich nur der Meinung von Franciszek Grucza (2013: 420) anschließen, wenn er schreibt: „Heinz Vater gehört zweifelsohne zu den wichtigsten zeitgenössischen deutschen Linguisten, die sich sehr um die polnische Germanistik gekümmert haben“. Das anfangs genannte Motto gilt für das Leben und Wirken von Prof. Dr. Heinz Vater vollends. ANDRZEJ KĄTNY

QUELLEN GRUCZA, F. (2013): Prof. Dr. Heinz Vater – zu seinem beruflichen Lebenslauf und seinen Verdiensten um die polnische Germanistik. In: Zeitschrift des Verbandes Polnischer Germanisten 4, 418-420. HOLZER, W. (1992): Jüdische Schulen in Berlin. Am Beispiel der privaten Volksschule der jüdischen Gemeinde Rykestraße, Berlin. NEEF, M. (1997): Laudatio auf Heinz Vater anlässlich seiner Emeritierung im Juli 1997. In: VATER, H. (2010), 7-12.

4 Wstęp do lingwistyki tekstu. Struktura i rozumienie tekstów. Aus dem Deutschen von Edyta Błachut und Adam Gołębiowski. Wrocław 2009; Wprowadzenie do lingwistyki. Aus dem Deutschen von Jarosław Aptacy. Wrocław 2015. 5 Etwa drei Wochen vor seinem unerwarteten Tode hielt er in den Tagen 25.-27. Mai 2015 drei Gastvorträge am Institut für Germanistik der Universität Poznań: „Kasuswandel im gegenwärtigen Deutschen“, „Polnisch und Deutsch in kontrastiver Sicht: Tempus und Aspekt“, „Sprachentgleisungen und Sprachspiel“.

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REBIGER, B. (2010): Das jüdische Berlin. Kultur, Religion und Alltag gestern und heute, Berlin. VATER, H. (2010): Linguistik und deutsche Grammatik im Fokus. Ausgewählte Schriften (= Studia Germanica Gedanensia 20, Sonderband 4; hrsg. von A. Kątny), Gdańsk. VATER, H. (2010a): Lebenslauf. In: VATER, H. (2010), 14-19. [VATER, H.] (2010b): Verzeichnis der Schriften von Heinz Vater. In: VATER, H. (2010), 437-447. VATER, H. (2013): Dankesworte Heinz Vaters. In: Zeitschrift des Verbandes Polnischer Germanisten 4, 423-424. VATER, H. (2013a): Flucht nach dem Mauerbau. In: CÖLLN, J./ HOLZAGEL, F.-J. (Hg.): Positionen der Germanistik in der DDR, Berlin/ Boston, 59-67. VATER, H. (2013b): Die Generative Grammatik in Ost- und Westdeutschland. In: CÖLLN, J./ HOLZAGEL, F.-J. (Hg.): Positionen der Germanistik in der DDR, Berlin / Boston, 470-488. VATER, H. (2015): Kasusveränderungen im gegenwärtigen Deutschen. In: Zeitschrift des Verbandes Polnischer Germanisten 4, 217-232. WUNDERLICH, D. (2015): Totenehrung am 16. Juli 2015: Was erinnern wir an Heinz Vater? In: Studia Germanica Gedanensia 33, 344-348. N Schicksale: Nissel Weißmann und Heinz Vater. In: www.juedischesfrankfurtvirtuell.de/de/de_N. php [Zugriff am 25.02.2016].


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Konrad Klimkowski, Towards a Shared Curriculum in Translator and Interpreter Education, Language in Contact Vol 3., Wydawnictwo Wyższej Szkoły Filologicznej we Wrocławiu, str. 355. Każdy młody człowiek po skończeniu studiów językowych zadaje sobie pytania: co dalej? czy i gdzie znajdę teraz pracę? czy jestem odpowiednio do niej przygotowany? Sama znajomość języka obcego nie jest dzisiaj wystarczającym atutem, aby odnaleźć się na współczesnym rynku pracy. Oprócz dodatkowych kompetencji, ważna jest znajomość potrzeb i wymogów potencjalnych pracodawców. Czy jednak współczesne uniwersytety i szkoły wyższe kształcą studentów w sposób skorelowany z potrzebami współczesnej gospodarki, czy też masowo produkują nie do końca wykwalifikowanych i świadomych pracowników? Na te i inne pytania próbuje odpowiedzieć dr Konrad Klimkowski w monografii, która dotyczy zawodowego kształcenia tłumaczy. Recenzowana monografia liczy 355 strony i składa się ze wstępu, który sygnalizuje poruszane w niej problemy i zagadnienia, ośmiu rozdziałów, uwag końcowych, streszczenia oraz bibliografii zawierającej ponad 250 pozycji. W rozdziale pierwszym, autor omawia trzy zagadnienia, takie jak: kompetencja translatorska, kompetencja tłumacza oraz tłumaczenie jako zawód. Problemy te są według autora ważne nie tylko z racji ich ogromnej roli w procesie kształcenia tłumaczy, ale również z powodu zmieniającego się charakteru ich kształcenia. I tak, jak podkreśla autor, kompetencja translatorska wraz z kompetencjami cząstkowymi stanowią punkt wyjścia do ułożenia programu nauczania przyszłych tłumaczy. Kompetencja tłumacza pomaga określić oczekiwane efekty kształcenia. Natomiast zawodowe podejście do tłumaczenia łączy kształcenie tłumaczy z jego późniejszą usługodawczą funkcją wymuszoną m.in. przez globalizację gospodarczą i kulturową jak i zmieniający się charakter współczesnych uniwersytetów. Definicje kompetencji translatorskiej, na analizie których skupia się autor, pochodzą z okresu po 2000 r., kiedy to ukazała się publikacja „Developing Translation Competence” (C. Schäffner/ B. Adab 2000). Na szczególną uwagę wśród tych definicji zasługuje podejście wielokomponentowe A. Pym’a (2003), jego minimalistyczna definicja kompetencji translatorskiej oraz kompetencja translatorska, która obejmuje umiejętności potrzebne do tłumaczenia. Autor monografii przedstawia krytyczne podejście do wielokomponentowej koncepcji kompetencji translatorskiej oraz omawia, m.in. jej model zaproponowany przez grupę PACTE (2003, 2008). Ponadto szczegółowo prezentuje pojęcie trajektorii uczenia się oraz jego klasyfikację zaproponowaną przez M. Eraut’a (2009), jako alternatywne podejście do pojęcia kompetencji. Szczegółowa analiza różnych definicji i ich ujęć miała na celu ukazanie ich ograniczeń oraz zaprezentowanie idealistycznej kompetencji oraz jej alternatywy, w której kompetencje są traktowane jako cecha każdego ucznia (B. Moser-Mercer 2008, M. Eraut 2009). Następnie autor poświęca uwagę modelowi EMT (2009) przedstawiającemu umiejętności i zadania tłumacza oraz poglądom D. Gouadec’a (2007) na temat profesji tłumacza, jej wyzwań i zależności pomiędzy zatrudnieniem a programem kształcenia tłumaczy. W kolejnych częściach pierwszego rozdziału autor zwraca uwagę na główne problemy kształcenia tłumaczy, takie jak: brak kontekstualizacji nauki (np. D. Gouadec 1990, K. Klaudy 1996, J. Vienne 2000, M. Kenny 2006, 2008), rozbieżność pomiędzy tym co jest nauczane a późniejszą praktyką (np. Kearns 2008, M. Mourshed i in. 2014) oraz rozbieżność pomiędzy wykonywaniem zadań tłumaczeniowych przez studentów w klasie i tym, jak to zadanie zostałoby wykonane przez profesjonalnego tłumacza (np. J. Fraser 1996), sugerując, że skuteczny program kształcenia powinien uwzględniać aksjologie, potrzeby i cele wszystkich interesariuszy. Rozdział drugi monografii poświęcony jest rozważaniom na temat epistemologicznych podstaw kształcenia tłumaczy. Autor broni relatywistycznego podejścia do nauki i kształcenia

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tłumaczeniowego (H. Risku 2002), gdyż stanowi ono podstawę zrozumienia procesu nauki w społeczno-kulturowym kontekście. Powołuje się on na antropocentryczną teorię języków F. Gruczy (1997), która zakłada, że uczenie się nie polega na przyswajaniu wiedzy ze środowiska tylko na konstruowaniu wiedzy przez każdego z nas. Ponadto omawia on znaczenie umysłu ludzkiego w epistemologii antropocentrycznej F. Gruczy i analizuje związek pomiędzy antropocentryczną teorią F. Gruczy (1997) a konstruktywizmem (K. Bergen 2007, E. von Glasersfeld 2007), doszukując się wielu podobieństw. W kolejnych częściach rozdziału drugiego autor dokonuje analizy porównawczej pomiędzy społecznym konstruktywizmem D. Kiraly’ego (2000) a epistemologią antropocentryczną F. Gruczy (1997), dochodząc do wniosku, że zarówno F. Grucza jak i D. Kiraly oraz wymieniony wcześniej E. von Glaserfeld postrzegają uczenie się jako cechę umysłu danej jednostki, natomiast co i jak jest uczone, zależy według nich od wpływu społecznego i kulturowego. W ostatniej podsekcji rozdziału drugiego dr Klimkowski przyjmuje antropocentryczny konstruktywizm społeczny jako podstawę dydaktyki translacji oraz wymienia zagadnienia poddane dyskusji w dalszej części monografii. Kolejny, trzeci rozdział dotyczy kształcenia tłumaczy opartego na przekazywaniu wiedzy studentom przez nauczyciela, co krytykuje D. Kiraly (2000). Poszukując alternatywy, D. Kiraly przyjmuje stanowisko konstruktywizmu społecznego i omawia trzy podejścia do uczenia i nauczania. Są to: Strefa Najbliższego Rozwoju (ZPD) L. Vygotskiego ([1935] 1978), teoria transformatywnego uczenia (np. R. Boyd 1989, 1991, P. Cranton 1994, E. O’Sullivan 1999, J. Dirkx 2000) oraz pojęcie „wzmocnienia kształcenia” (D. Kiraly 2000). Mimo iż zaproponowane przez D. Kiraly’ego (2000) podejście krytykują inni badacze (A. Pym 2009, J. Varney 2009), jest ono bardzo ważnym elementem kształcenia, w przeciwieństwie do podejścia polegającego tylko na wyposażaniu studentów w wiedzę i umiejętności. Dlatego też, poza bazowaniem na teoriach opisanych w drugim rozdziale, autor monografii opiera swoje dalsze rozważania na pojęciu wzmocnionego kształcenia, interaktywnym charakterze konstruowania wiedzy oraz interakcji klasowej nastawionej na zadanie, które zaczerpnął z nowatorskiej pracy D. Kiraly’ego (2000). W rozdziale czwartym, autor omawia wybrane teorie kształcenia i ich znaczenie dla kształcenia tłumaczy. Wybór omawianych teorii bazuje na epistemologicznych założeniach przedstawionych w poprzednich rozdziałach jak i świadomym wyborze autora na potrzeby powyższej monografii. Swoje rozważania dr Klimkowski rozpoczyna od wskazania różnic pomiędzy andragogiką a pedagogiką (np. M. Knowles 1970, M. Knowles i in. [1973] 2005) oraz omówienia wybranych aspektów motywacji uczniów. Następnie autor monografii analizuje kolejno teorie J. Bruner’a ([1961] 2006), C. R. Rogers’a (1951) i K. Gergen’a (2009), po czym przedstawia koncepcje interpersonalnych relacji w kształceniu (U. Ostrowska 2002). Rozdział piąty poświęcony jest budowaniu autonomii podczas kształcenia tłumaczy. Autor monografii podkreśla wagę ponadprogramowych, dodatkowych inicjatyw, które nie tylko uzupełniają formalne kształcenie tłumaczy, ale również poszerzają horyzonty edukatorów. I tak w kolejnych podsekcjach dr Klimkowski kolejno dokonuje analizy porównawczej pomiędzy rozumieniem kontroli i autonomii przez P. Candy’ego (1987), G. Grow’ego (1991) i D. Kiraly’ego (2000). Następnie autor przybliża czytelnikowi Stage 4 G. Grow’a (1991), pojęcie heutagogiki (S. Hase/ C. Kenyon 2000), wyjaśnia różnice pomiędzy formalnym a nieformalnym kontekstem uczenia (P. Coombs i in. 1973), pojęcia nieformalnej nauki i biernej znajomości języka M. Eraut’a (2000, 2009) oraz pedagogiki zawodowej (S. Billet 2001). Po przeanalizowaniu wszystkich w/w koncepcji dr Klimkowski dochodzi do wniosku, iż formalny kontekst kształcenia nie jest wystarczający w skutecznym kształceniu tłumaczy. Rozdział szósty rozpoczyna się od definicji holistycznego programu nauczania. Następnie autor stara się znaleźć empiryczne uzasadnienie dla wprowadzenia holistycznego programu nauczania do kształcenia tłumaczy. I tak poddaje szczegółowej analizie badania K. Klimkowskiej (2013, 2014, w druku), M. Mourshed i in. (2014), które potwierdzają potrzebę wprowadzenia holistycznego programu kształcenia ze specjalnym naciskiem na zawodową edukację tłumaczy w celu zwiększenia efektywności programów edukacyjnych.

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Celem siódmego rozdziału jest połączenie i zweryfikowanie teorii i wniosków opisywanych w poprzednich rozdziałach poprzez badania własne oraz wskazanie, w jaki sposób wnioski płynące z badania mogą zostać wykorzystane w kształceniu tłumaczy. Autor proponuje więc przeformułowanie modelu dydaktycznego systemu i jego ujęcie w postaci dydaktycznej triady. I tak opisuje kolejno profil studenta oraz wzmocnienie pozycji ucznia w świetle koncepcji antropocentrycznej, profil nauczyciela a następnie zadanie w procesie kształcenia tłumaczy. Ostatnia część rozdziału szóstego poświęcona jest badaniom własnym autora. Autor próbuje wdrożyć założenia przedstawione w monografii w praktyce podczas układania oraz implementowania programu nauczania dla studentów dwuletniej specjalizacji tłumaczenia symultanicznego na UMCS-ie w Lublinie od roku akademickiego 2011/12. Analizie poddane są 2 lata trwania specjalizacji, która nadal jest w ofercie UMCS-u. Po dwóch latach autor zebrał wstępny feedback na temat programu od grupy studentów (w formie kwestionariusza) i nauczycieli (w formie wywiadu) uczestniczących w programie. W ostatnim, ósmym rozdziale została podjęta próba rozwiązania problemów napotkanych podczas implementacji programu opisanego w poprzednim rozdziale. Aby rozwiązać te problemy oraz pogodzić modele kształcenia zaproponowane przez np. M. González Davies (2004), D. Kiraly (2008), B. Moser-Mercer (2008) z opozycyjnymi twierdzeniami G. Grow’a (1991) czy S. Hase/ C. Kenyon’a (2000), autor proponuje zdefiniowanie programu kształcenia tłumaczy jako przestrzeni wspólnej pomiędzy formalnymi i nieformalnymi działaniami edukacyjnymi. W rozdziale tym dr Klimkowski analizuje również czynniki, które powinny zostać wzięte pod uwagę podczas planowania kształcenia w nieformalnym kontekście. Prezentuje również wyniki badania studium przypadku (studentów Lingwistyki Stosowanej tłumaczących na potrzeby strony Urzędu Miasta w Lublinie) z okresu 2008-2011, które ma na celu pokazanie jak zaimplementować nieformalne inicjatywy edukacyjne w praktyce. Monografia kończy się uwagami, które są streszczeniem wniosków płynących z opracowania, streszczeniem w języku polskim oraz bibliografią. Recenzowana monografia dr Klimkowskiego zawiera rzetelny przegląd literatury powiązanej z dydaktyką translacji oraz zawodowym wymiarem pracy współczesnego tłumacza. Wnioski z niej płynące wykazują potrzebę zmiany kształcenia nie tylko studentów ale również nauczycieli translacji, którzy zamiast wyłącznie realizować program nauczania, powinni bardziej zaangażować się we wspólne zdobywanie wiedzy wszystkich uczestników procesu kształcenia. Jak podkreśla autor monografii, formalny kontekst nauczania nie jest wystarczający i wymaga nadprogramowych, pozaformalnych inicjatyw. Poza tym, brak kontekstualizacji i praktycznego wymiaru nauki powoduje rozbieżność między kompetencjami i wiedzą studentów a późniejszą praktyką zawodową. W związku z tym, aby wprowadzić zawodowe podejście do kształcenia tłumaczy, konieczne wydaje się współdziałanie nauczycieli, studentów/słuchaczy oraz potencjalnego rynku pracy. Monografia dr Klimkowskiego wpasowuje się w nowy nurt wynikający z naszej zmieniającej się globalnej rzeczywistości. Propaguje ona nowy trend wśród uniwersytetów i uczelni wyższych, które zmieniają swój charakter nauczania, z bardziej ogólnego na bardziej zawodowy. Ta nowa tendencja w kształceniu językowym powinna dotyczyć zintegrowania wspólnych działań studentów, nauczycieli i przyszłych pracodawców. Program nauczania studiów językowych powinien być bardziej elastyczny i wypracowany nie tylko poprzez bazowanie na współczesnych założeniach i teoriach dydaktycznych, ale także poprzez dialog pomiędzy studentami, nauczycielami oraz potencjalnym rynkiem pracy. Studenci powinni być kształceni w taki sposób i wyposażeni w takie kompetencje, które pomogą im później bez problemu odnaleźć się na rynku pracy i sprostać oczekiwaniom i wyzwaniom współczesnej gospodarki. ILONA BANASIAK

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Norbert Morciniec, Historia języka niemieckiego, Wydawnictwo Wyższej Szkoły Filologicznej we Wrocławiu, Wrocław 2015, str. 265. Recenzowana tu książka przeznaczona jest nie tylko dla studentów filologii germańskiej jako pomoc naukowa do zajęć z historii języka niemieckiego, lecz również dla zainteresowanych przedmiotem niefilologów. W przeciwieństwie do Historii języka niemieckiego autorstwa Aleksandra Szulca z roku 1991, która kładzie główny nacisk na fakty wewnętrznojęzykowe, (zmiany w zakresie fonologii, morfologii, składni) – tradycyjnie nazywane gramatyką historyczną języka – podręcznik N. Morcińca zawiera natomiast zarówno opis faktów wewnętrzno- jak i zewnętrznojęzykowych oraz pozajęzykowych. Faktami zewnętrzno- językowymi dla danego języka są wszelkie jego cechy dotyczące sposobu i zasięgu użycia w społeczeństwie (we wspólnocie komunikatywnej) oraz też jego kontakty z innymi językami. Cechy i fakty zewnętrznojęzykowe odróżnia się więc nie tylko od faktów wewnętrznojęzykowych, lecz także od faktów pozajęzykowych. N. Morciniec używa w odniesieniu do faktów zewnętrznojęzykowych terminów „otoczenie społeczne i kulturowe”, a do faktów pozajęzykowych „dzieje polityczno-społeczne”. W dziejach każdego języka zachodzi ścisły związek między faktami tych różnych rodzajów, tak że w każdym z wymienionych przez Autora okresów sytuacja języka niemieckiego zależy od wszystkich tych czynników, często w kolejności: fakt pozajęzykowy, zewnętrznojęzykowy, wewnętrznojęzykowy. Słuszne dlatego jest poprzedzenie każdego rozdziału krótkim omówieniem dziejów polityczno-społecznych epoki. Książka zawiera 12 rozdziałów poświęconych kolejno następującym zagadnieniom: W rozdziale pierwszym omówiony został podział języków germańskich z uwzględnieniem najstarszych zabytków językowych. Rozdział następny – poświęcony przyczynom zmian językowych – jest oryginalny ze względu na bardzo przystępny i zarazem sugestywny oraz ciekawy sposób prezentowania mechanizmów zmian językowych. Tradycyjna periodyzacja historii języka niemieckiego na cztery okresy 750-1050, 1050-1350, 1350-1650, 1650-1950 została uzupełniona o podział ostatniego okresu nowo-wysoko-niemieckiego na dwa podokresy 1650-1800 i 1800-1950, a okres po roku 1950 traktuje Autor zgodnie z tradycją jako okres współczesnego języka niemieckiego (Gegenwartsdeutsch). Stosunkowo dużo miejsca zostało poświęcone okresowi najstarszemu, w którym omówione zostały kolejno takie zagadnienia jak: przesłanki historyczne, najstarsze zabytki, ważniejsze cechy fonetyczno-fonemiczne i gramatyczne, wpływ łaciny na słownictwo, etymologia nazw tygodnia, historia wyrazu „deutsch”, wybór tekstów. Na uwagę zasługuje podkreślenie właściwej interpretacji znaczenia terminu staro-wysoko-niemiecki, jako że ówcześni ludzi nie mieli jeszcze poczucie przynależności dowspólnoty niemieckiej. Dużą wartość dydaktyczną posiada wybór tekstów staro-wysoko-niemieckich, ilustrujący różnice i podobieństwa między dialektami frankońskimi, bawarskimi i alemańskimi. Ze względu na skąpe zabytki starosaskie (staro-dolno-niemieckie), jak i na udział tych dialektów w powstaniu standardowego języka niemieckiego, którego korzenie są wysokoniemieckie, rozdział piąty jest odpowiednio nieduży. W porównaniu z zabytkami staro-wysoko-niemickimi teksty okresu średnio-wyskoniemieckiego są o wiele bogatsze. Pozwala to Autorowi na liczniejszą egzemplifikację omawianych zjawisk językowych. Przy omawianiu zapożyczeń leksykalnych z języka francuskiego, podobnie jak w poprzednim okresie z łaciny, pominięte zostały jednakże morfemy słowotwórcze z tych języków, np. łać. -ari, franc. -ier-. Język średnio-dolno-niemiecki jest określeniem umownym dla dialektów niemieckich używanych na północy Niemiec w okresie 1150-1650. Kancelarie nowo powstałych miast północnoniemieckich przechodzą pod koniec XII wieku z łaciny na dolnoniemiecki. Jako język kancelarii Lubeki, głównego miasta Hanzy, używany był dolnoniemiecki w kontaktach między centrum a kantorami zagranicznymi w całej Europie północnej, a szczególnie w miastach Skandynawii. Na uwagę zasługuje przede wszystkim wpływ języka średnio-dolno-niemieckiego na języki kontynentalno-skandynawskie: duński, szwedzki i norweski. Nigdy w swej historii

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język niemiecki nie wywarł tak intensywnego wpływu na inne języki, jak to miało miejsce w okresie Hanzy na języki skandynawskie. Do dzisiaj około 30% zapożyczeń leksykalnych, a wraz z nimi liczne prefiksy i sufiksy są pochodzenia dolnoniemieckiego, co ułatwia znającemu język niemiecki opanowanie tych języków. Centralnym zagadnieniem historii języka niemieckiego jest prześledzenie i przeanalizowanie procesu powstawania ponaddialektalnego ogólnoniemieckiego języka pisanego. W kolejnym rozdziale traktującym o okresie wczesno-nowo-niemieckim przedstawione zostały m.in. tradycyjne teorie Müllenhoffa. Burdacha i Fringsa, na wspomniany temat. O ile Müllenhoff zakłada ciągłość rozwoju języka pisanego w kilku etapach od Karola Wielkiego do Lutra, opierając się na centrach ówczesnej władzy cesarskiej, to dla Burdacha podstawą współczesnego języka pisanego jest język kancelarii praskiej. Z kolei Frings oparł swoją tezę nie na tekstach pisanych, lecz na języku mówionym osadników na kolonialnych terenach wschodnioniemieckich. Te monocentryczne poglądy rozwijane w pracach Szkoły Lipskiej dominowały szczególnie w NRD. Autor konfrontuje je z wynikami nowszych badań tekstów pisanych nie tylko obszarów kolonialnych, lecz także starych terytoriów ówczesnej Rzeszy. Zgodnie z wynikami tych badań proces powstawania ogólnoniemieckiego języka pisanego miał charakter policentryczny. Proces ten został przedstawiony w podrozdziale poświęconym terytorialnym odmiankom języka pisanego i związanymi z nimi ponadterytorialnymi tendencjami wyrównawczymi. Na tle tych zmian ukazane zostały w nowym świetle zasługi i wkład Lutra w powstaniu ogólnoniemieckiego języka pisanego. Kolejny okres nowo-wysoko-niemiecki został ze względów praktycznych podzielony na dwa podokresy. W pierwszym podokresie obejmującym lata 1650-1800 poruszone zostały takie zagadnienia jak: znaczenie towarzystw językowych w związku z budzeniem świadomości potrzeby uregulowania języka pisanego, działalność normatywna gramatyków (Schottel, Gueintz Gottsched) i leksykografów (Adelung), puryzm językowy. Wiek XIX cechuje dalsza działalność gramatyków i związana z tym nowa fala puryzmu językowego, stabilizacja języka standardowego, powstanie naukowej germanistyki (Wilhelm i Jacob Grimm), rozwój badań historyczno-porównawczych, młodogramatycy, unormowanie pisowni i wymowy. Rozdział przedostatni przedstawia sytuację języka niemieckiego po drugiej wojnie światowej w podzielonych Niemczech, Austrii i Szwajcarii. Przedstawione zostały tu obok różnic leksykalnych cechy charakterystyczne w zakresie wymowy, fleksji, słowotwórstwa i składani. W rozdziale końcowym, mówiąc o tendencjach rozwojowych współczesnego języka niemieckiego, wskazuje Autor na fakt kontynuacji procesów, które zaczęły się już w okresach poprzednich w zakresie wymowy, gramatyki, składni i słownictwa. Istotne są przy tym czynniki społeczno-kulturowe, które sprzyjają lub hamują te procesy. Historia języka niemieckiego N. Morcińca jest książką o wielu zaletach. Jako podręcznik akademicki daje pełny obraz historii języka od czasu pojawienia się pierwszych tekstów starowysoko-niemieckich aż po czasy współczesne. Autor nie ogranicza się tylko do przedstawienia faktów wewnętrznojęzykowych, lecz uwzględnia przy omawianiu tych faktów tło społeczne i kulturowe, pozwalające zrozumieć zjawiska i przemiany zachodzące w języku. Bardzo pomocne okazują się zestawy tekstów towarzyszące poszczególnym rozdziałom, a których celem jest unaocznienie czytelnikowi charakteru zmian dokonujących się w poszczególnych okresach. Dołączone do teksu opracowania liczne ryciny są źródłem dodatkowych informacji, a szczegółowa bibliografia umieszczona po każdym głównym rozdziale może posłużyć jako zachęta do lektury uzupełniającej. KRZYSZTOF JANIKOWSKI

KWARTALNIK NEOFILOLOGICZNY, LXII, 4/2015

WSKAZÓWKI DLA AUTORÓW Materiały przeznaczone do publikacji w KN prosimy nadsyłać w formie elektronicznej (.doc/.docx) na adres: [email protected] oraz w postaci wydruku na adres: Kwartalnik Neolologiczny, Społeczna Akademia Nauk, ul. Łucka 11, 00-842 Warszawa. Wysyłając materiały do publikacji w KN należy wskazać adres tak tradycyjny, jak i elektroniczny, z którego redakcja ma skorzystać, gdy zajdzie potrzeba skontaktowania się z autorem (autorami). Postępowaniu redakcyjnemu będą poddawane tylko materiały nadesłane wraz z oświadczeniem, że (a) są to materiały oryginalne – wcześniej nigdzie nie opublikowane; (b) ich autor (współautorzy) bierze (biorą) na siebie całkowitą odpowiedzialność za wszelkie roszczenia prawne, jakie wywołać może publikacja nadsyłanych materiałów i (c) zrzeka (zrzekają) się prawa do jakiegokolwiek honorarium za ich publikację oraz rozpowszechnianie. 1. Artykuły A. – KN publikuje wyłącznie artykuły wcześniej nigdzie niepublikowane i wnoszące nową wiedzę językoznawczą, lingwistyczną, literaturoznawczą, krajo- i kulturoznawczą, kulturologiczną, glottodydaktyczną i/lub translatoryczną. – KN publikuje przede wszystkim artykuły dotyczące języków, literatur, kultur romańskich i/lub germańskich. KN publikuje prace dotyczące odnośnych zagadnień zarówno podstawowych (diagnostycznych), jak i stosowanych (aplikatywnych). – KN publikuje jedynie artykuły napisane w języku angielskim, niemieckim, francuskim, włoskim, hiszpańskim lub portugalskim. B. – Nadesłane artykuły zostaną opublikowane w KN, o ile uzyskają pozytywne oceny powołanych przez redakcję KN recenzentów. Jeśli recenzenci uzależnią możliwość opublikowania nadesłanego artykułu od wprowadzenia wskazanych przez nich poprawek, zostanie on przyjęty do publikacji, o ile Autor zechce odpowiednio zmodykować jego wersję pierwotną. – Recenzje nadsyłanych artykułów są sporządzane w trybie obustronnie anonimowym, tzn. redakcja nie ujawnia recenzentom tożsamości autorów prac przekazanych do recenzji, ani autorom zrecenzowanych artykułów tożsamości recenzentów. – Szczegółowej procedurze redakcyjnej będą poddawane tylko artykuły i/lub recenzje (a) nadesłane w wersji papierowej i elektronicznej, (b) spełniające wymienione niżej warunki formalne i (c) przesłane do Redakcji wraz z krótką (maksymalnie 500 znaków) informacją o ich autorze, w szczególności o jego stopniu i tytule naukowym, aktualnym miejscu pracy, pełnionej funkcji akademickiej i jego najważniejszych publikacjach. C. – Artykuły przygotowane przez dwóch lub więcej autorów należy (w zgodzie ze stosownym wymogiem Ministerstwa Nauki i Szkolnictwa Wyższego RP) zaopatrzyć w przypis możliwie dokładnie określający wkład wniesiony w jego przygotowanie przez jego poszczególnych autorów. W szczególności należy w takim przypadku podać do publicznej wiadomości, kto jest autorem koncepcji, założeń i metod przedstawionych w nim badań. – Zarówno w przypadku indywidualnych, jak i zbiorowych prac przeznaczonych do publikacji w KN należy (również w zgodzie z odpowiednim wymogiem Ministerstwa Nauki i Szkolnictwa Wyższego RP) wymienić także (np. w formie podziękowań) nazwiska wszystkich osób, które przyczyniły się do powstania danej pracy, a nie zostały wymienione jako ich współautorzy. – Redakcja KN podziela zdanie Ministerstwa Nauki i Szkolnictwa Wyższego, iż zarówno tzw. ghostwriting (tj. ukrywanie osób, które przyczyniły się do powstania tekstu przeznaczonego do publikacji), jak i tzw. guest authorship (tj. wymienianie jako współautorów osób, które nie przyczyniły się wcale lub przyczyniły się w znikomym stopniu do powstania danej pracy) należy traktować jako praktyki naganne. D. – Artykuły nie powinny obejmować łącznie, tzn. wraz ze streszczeniem, bibliograą i przypisami więcej niż 40000 znaków ze spacjami. Prosimy o użycie czcionki Times New Roman z odstępami 1.5. – Imię i nazwisko oraz zawodową aliację autora/autorów artykułu należy wymienić w lewym górnym rogu linijki poprzedzającej tytuł artykułu. – Tytuł artykułu należy wypisać wytłuszczoną 14-sto punktową czcionką.

– Tekst właściwy artykułu należy poprzedzić jego angielsko- i polskojęzycznym streszczeniem (abstraktem). Artykuły nie „zaopatrzone” w streszczenie nie będą poddawane dalszej procedurze redakcyjnej. – Streszczenia prosimy pisać czcionką 10-cio punktową. Streszczenia nie powinny obejmować więcej niż 500 znaków ze spacjami. – W linijce następującej po streszczeniu prosimy podać 5 słów kluczowych po polsku i po angielsku. – Tekst podstawowy prosimy sporządzać czcionką 12-sto punktową i przedstawiać w formacie A4 (210x297mm) z marginesami 2,5 cm. – Wcięcie pierwszego wiersza każdego akapitu 1 cm, odstęp 1,5. – Również śródtytuły należy sporządzać czcionką 12-sto punktową, pogrubioną z wyrównaniem do lewego marginesu. Nie należy numerować śródtytułów. Autorzy są zobowiązani zaznaczać stopień śródtytułów (śródtytuł 1°, 2° lub 3°). E. – Również cytaty należy pisać czcionką Times New Roman; cytaty prosimy wyróżniać za pomocą cudzysłowów drukarskich (“ ”). Cytaty obejmujące więcej niż 50 wyrazów prosimy wyodrębnić z tekstu i napisać czcionką 10-cio punktową z pojedynczym odstępem. – Przypisy dolne prosimy ograniczyć do minimum; Redakcja KN akceptuje jedynie przypisy dolne prezentujące dodatkowe informacje rzeczowe, natomiast nie akceptuje przypisów dolnych prezentujących tylko dane bibliograczne. Należy je zapisać również czcionką 10-cio punktową z pojedynczymi odstępami. F. – Spis prac wykorzystanych przez autora/autorów tekstu przeznaczonego do publikacji w KN należy zamieścić na końcu artykułu w porządku alfabetycznym. – Publikacje książkowe należy przedstawiać w zgodzie z następującym wzorem: GRUCZA, F. (2005): Lingwistyka stosowana: Historia – zadania – osiągnięcia, Warszawa. – Artykuły opublikowane w czasopismach prosimy prezentować według wzoru: KOTARBIŃSKI, T. (1972): “Pojęcia i zagadnienia metodologii ogólnej i metodologii nauk praktycznych”, Studia Filozoczne, 1/74, 5-12. – Artykuły ogłoszone w wydaniach zbiorowych prosimy prezentować według wzoru: FILLMORE, CH. J. (1984): “Lexical semantics and text semantics”, in: COPELAND, J. E. (ed.): New directions in linguistics and semantics, Houston, 123-147. 2. Recenzje – KN publikuje także recenzje książek napisanych na tematy dotyczące języków, literatur, kultur romańskich i/lub germańskich, ale jedynie takich, które zostały opublikowane co najwyżej trzy lata przed ich zrecenzowaniem. – KN publikuje recenzje napisane zarówno w językach wymienionych w związku z artykułami, jak i w języku polskim. – W nagłówku recenzji przeznaczonej do publikacji w KN należy wymienić po kolei: a) imię i nazwisko autora recenzowanej książki, b) jej tytuł zapisany kursywą, c) ewentualnie nazwę, tom, część serii, w ramach której recenzowana książka się ukazała, d) nazwę wydawnictwa, e) miejsce i rok jej opublikowania oraz f) liczbę jej stron, a w przypadku recenzowania tłumaczenia także g) imię i nazwisko tłumacza. – Imię i nazwisko autora recenzji prosimy wymienić na końcu recenzji dużymi literami z wyrównaniem do prawej strony. – Tekstu recenzji nie należy opatrywać żadnymi komentarzami dolnymi, ani żadnym spisem publikacji. Wszelkie informacje bibliograczne prosimy zamieszczać wewnątrz tekstu. 3. Uwagi końcowe Użyte w tekście przeznaczonym do publikacji w KN znaki fonetyczne i/lub nietypowe symbole należy zebrać i przesłać do redakcji w postaci oddzielnych wydruków i elektronicznych dokumentów. Ponadto, prosimy dołączyć PDF utworzony przez Autora z osadzeniem użytych niestandardowych czcionek.

KWARTALNIK NEOFILOLOGICZNY, LXII, 4/2015

GUIDELINES FOR AUTHORS Materials submitted for publication in KN should be sent in electronic form (.doc/.docx) to: kwartalnik@ spoleczna.pl as well as in hard copy to: Kwartalnik Neolologiczny, Społeczna Akademia Nauk, ul. Łucka 11, 00-842 Warszawa. When submitting materials for publication in KN, please provide both a traditional postal address as well as an email one which the editors can use in their contacts with the author or authors. Only those materials submitted accompanied by a statement that (a) the materials are original – they have not been published anywhere else; (b) the author (or authors) accept total responsibility for any legal consequences arising from publishing the submitted materials, and (c) that they resign from any payment for publication and dissemination of the materials will be published. 1. Articles A. – KN exclusively publishes articles that have never previously been published anywhere and which provide new insights about language, linguistics, literature, heritage and culture, culturology, glottodidactics and/or translating. – KN publishes above all articles about the languages and literature of Romance and/or Germanic cultures. KN publishes works dealing with issues on a theoretical (diagnostic), as well as a practical (applied) basis. – KN exclusively publishes articles written in English, German, French, Italian, Spanish or Portuguese. B. – Articles submitted are published in KN if they receive a positive assessment from the reviewers appointed by the KN editorial board. If reviewers make publication of a given article dependent on the introduction of amendments suggested by them, it will be published only if the author is prepared to make the relevant changes to the original text. – Reviews of articles submitted are prepared in a mutually anonymous fashion, meaning that the editors do not reveal the identity of the author to reviewers, nor do the authors know the identities of the reviewers. – Only those articles or reviews (a) sent in both paper and electronic form, (b) which meet the formal criteria described below, and are (c) sent to the editors together with a brief (maximum 500 characters) description of the authors, including their academic titles and degrees, current place of employment and academic position, and most important publications, will be put forward for the detailed editorial process. C. – Articles written by two or more authors (in line with the relevant requirements of the Ministry of Science and Higher Education of the Republic of Poland) must be provided with annotation describing as precisely as possible the input into the work of each individual author. In particular, it must be made public who is responsible for the concept, the underlying assumptions and the research methods used in it. – For both individual and collaborative articles submitted for publication in KN (also in line with the relevant requirements of the Ministry of Science and Higher Education of the Republic of Poland) it is also necessary to provide (e.g. in the form of acknowledgements) the names of all the people who contributed to the creation of the given article who are not named as co-authors. – The editors of KN concurs with the opinion of the Ministry of Science and Higher Education that equally ghostwriting (i.e. concealing the identity of people who contributed to the creation of an article submitted for publication), as well as guest authorship (i.e. naming as co-authors people who did not contribute at all or to a minimal degree to the creation of the given article) are practices which should be condemned. D. – Articles should not contain in total more than 40,000 characters including spaces i.e. including the abstract, bibliography and annotations. Please write using Times New Roman with 1.5 line spacing. – The full name and professional afliation of the author/authors of the article should be placed in the top left corner of the line preceding the article’s title. – The article’s title should be typed in 14 point font in bold type. – The article’s main text should be preceded by a summary (abstract) in both English and Polish. Articles supplied without an abstract will be subject to further editorial work. – Please type abstracts using 10 point font. Abstracts should not be longer than 500 characters including spaces.

– – – –

Please provide 5 key words in Polish and English on the line immediately below the abstract. The main text should be typed using 12 point font in A4 format (210x297mm) with 2.5cm margins. Indent the rst line of each paragraph 1 cm, with 1.5 line spacing. Headings and sub-headings should be typed using 12 point font in bold and left justied. Headings should not be numbered. Authors must indicate the heading level (heading 1, 2 or 3).

E. – Quotes should also be typed using the Times New Roman font; quotes should be indicated using quotation marks (“ ”). Quotes of more than 50 words should be indented as a block and typed using 10 point font with single line spacing. – Please keep footnotes to a minimum; the KN editors only admit footnotes containing concrete additional information and will reject footnotes which contain only bibliographical information. Footnotes should be typed using 10 point font with single line spacing. F. – Bibliographies of works used by an author/authors in preparing an article for publication in KN should be placed at the foot of the article in alphabetical order. – Books should be presented in accordance with the following model: GRUCZA, F. (2005): Lingwistyka stosowana: Historia – zadania – osiągnięcia, Warszawa. – Articles published in periodicals should be cited in the following manner: KOTARBIŃSKI, T. (1972): “Pojęcia i zagadnienia metodologii ogólnej i metodologii nauk praktycznych”, Studia Filozoczne, 1/74, 5-12. – Articles taken from multi-author works should be presented as follows: FILLMORE, CH. J. (1984): “Lexical semantics and text semantics”, in: COPELAND, J. E. (ed.): New directions in linguistics and semantics, Houston, 123-147. 2. Reviews – KN also publishes reviews of books related to the language and literature of Romance and/or Germanic cultures, but only those published less than three years prior to the review being written. – KN publishes reviews written both in the same languages as those listed for articles, as well as in Polish. – The title of a review submitted for publication in KN should name, in turn: a) the full name of the author of the book being reviewed, b) the book’s title in italics, c) if applicable, the name, volume or part of the series within which the book being reviewed was published, d) the name if the publisher, e) place and date of publication and f) the total number of pages, and in the case of a review of a translation, also g) the translator’s full name. – The full name of the author of a review should be given at the foot of the review in block capitals and right justied. – The text of a review should not contain footnotes or bibliography. All bibliographical information is to be provided within the body of the text. 3. Final remarks Phonetic and/or unusual symbols used within a text submitted for publication in KN should be compiled and sent to the editors printed separately and in electronic form. In addition, a PDF le created by the author containing the unusual fonts or symbols used should be attached.