nglish anguage verseas erspectives and nquiries Editors: SMILJANA KOMAR and UROŠ MOZETIČ ENGLISH LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE STUDIES IN THE CONTEXT OF EUROPEAN LANGUAGE DIVERSITY Slovensko društvo za angleške študije Slovene Association for the Study of English ISSN 1581-8918 ENGLISH LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE STUDIES IN THE CONTEXT OF EUROPEAN LANGUAGE DIVERSITY Editors: SMILJANA KOMAR and UROŠ MOZETIČ Slovensko društvo za angleške študije Slovene Association for the Study of English EDITORS’ FOREWORD We are pleased to introduce the Second Volume of ELOPE, the journal of the Slovene Association for the Study of English. It seems that our first publication has already become quite popular as this issue contains twice as many papers as the last. Each paper was submitted to two independent reviewers whose reports were carefully analysed; in response to these reports the authors, where necessary, were asked to observe the reviewers’ comments and submit a revised version. The result of this careful selection is a volume twice as thick as the first one, encompassing a total of 25 papers covering the following four areas of interest: linguistics (10), literature and translation (9) and English language and literature teaching (6). This time the volume is truly international in the sense that nearly one half of the authors are from elsewhere in Europe, and even the USA and Canada. The title of the first volume was Studies in the English Language and Literature in Slovenia. Due to the international aspect of this volume, we decided to entitle it English Language and Literature Studies in the Context of European Language Diversity. Although we hope that eventually we shall be able to have thematic volumes devoted to various and specific fields of interest, we believe that the reality will be different for at least the next few issues. This means that in future we will be happy to accept for publication any paper which meets the basic criteria for publication and receives positive evaluations from our two independent reviewers. In concluding this introduction we wish to express our sincere thanks to the reviewers as well as to the members of the editorial board, especially to Professor Emeritus Adolphe Haberer and Professor J. Lachlan Mackenzie, who kindly accepted our invitation to become members of the editorial board – thus making our journal more international. We are also very grateful to Jason Blake for proofreading all the texts. Last but not least, a warm thank you to all contributors who, by deciding to publish their expert knowledge in the selected fields of interest, showed their trust and expressed their belief in the future of ELOPE. As editors we promise to put all our efforts into maintaining the quality of the journal and putting it on the map of internationally recognized publications. Dr. Smiljana Komar Dr. Uroš Mozetič COnTEnTS Language Rodica Calciu 11 An Historical Novel or a Historical Novel? A Case of Variation in Spelling Primer razlikovanja v pisavi Dušan Gabrovšek 25 On Not Remembering/Knowing the Right Words: The Reverse Dictionary under Review Kadar nam prave besede umanjkajo: Analiza obratnega slovarja Smiljana Komar 35 Unenthusiastic Europeans or Affected English: the Impact of Intonation on the Overall Make-up of Speech Medli Evropejci ali izumetničeni Angleži: vpliv intonacije na celostno podobo govora Dora Maček 45 Some Reflections on the Language of Contemporary Scottish Prose Nekaj razmišljanj o jeziku sodobne škotske proze Philippa Maurer-Stroh 57 “House-High Favourites?” – A Contrastive Analysis of Adjective-Noun Collocations in German and English “House-High Favourites?” – kontrastivna analiza pridevniško-samostalniških kolokacij v nemškem in angleškem jeziku Nataša Milivojević 65 Particles and Prefixes in English and Serbian Členice in predpone v angleškem in srbskem jeziku Hortensia Pârlog 77 The Semantics of Heart: Translation Problems Semantika besede heart: težave pri prevajanju Rastislav Šuštaršič 87 Phonemic Transcriptions in British and American Dictionaries Fonemske transkripcije v britanskih in ameriških slovarjih Marjeta Vrbinc An Empirical Study of Dictionary Use: the Case of Slovenia Empirična raziskava rabe slovarjev pri rojenih govorcih slovenščine Katarina Dea Žetko Indefinite and Continuative Interpretations of the English Present Perfect Nedoločna in kontinuativna interpretacija angleškega present perfecta Literature Lester E. Barber Literature and Daily Life: Looking for Love in All the Wrong (and Right) Places Književnost in vsakdanjost: V iskanju ljubezni povsod tam, kjer je ni (ali pa je) Stipe Grgas 127 Don DeLillo’s Mapping of the City Kartografska podoba mesta v prozi Don Delilla Victor Kennedy 139 Astronomical References in Chaucer: What Can Modern Students Learn from Studying Ancient Texts? Astronomski napotki pri Chaucerju: česa se lahko današnji študenti naučijo iz starih besedil? Mirna Radin-Sabadoš Beyond Crime and Punishment: Metaphor of Violence in Iain Banks’s Complicity Onkraj zločina in kazni: metaforika nasilja v romanu Complicity Iaina Banksa engLiSH Language anD Literature teaCHing Mihaela Brumen, Branka Čagran and Shelagh Rixon Assessment of Young Learners’ Foreign Language in Slovenian Primary Schools Izvajanje preverjanja in ocenjevanja znanja mlajših učencev pri pouku tujega jezika v slovenski osnovni šoli Živa Čeh 185 Contrastive Exercises for Teaching Collocations Vaje za poučevanje kolokacij  Soča Fidler 193 The Portfolio – A More Responsible Student – A Less Stressed-out Teacher Portfolio – bolj odgovoren učenec (študent) – manj obremenjen učitelj Violeta Jurković 209 Analysis of Language Learning Strategies Used by Students of Traffic Technology Analiza strategij učenja pri študentih tehnologije prometa Urška Sešek 223 “Teacher English”: Teacher’s Target Language Use as Cornerstone of Successful Language Teaching Učiteljska angleščina: Učiteljeva raba ciljnega jezika kot temelj uspešnega jezikovnega poučevanja Cvetka Sokolov 231 Essay Titles – Getting the Best out of Students? Naslovi spisov – iskanje najbolšega pri študentih? tranSLatiOn StuDieS Michelle Gadpaille 245 Cutting Edge Culture for Novice Translators Kulturne vsebine za prevajalce začetnike Nada Grošelj 255 Belletristic Translation into English: What Price the Same Order of Words? Vprašanje besednega reda pri leposlovnem prevajanju v angleščino Darja Hribar 269 An Examination of Lexical Choices in Slovene Translations of British and American Drama Leksikalni izbor v slovenskih prevodih angleške in ameriške drame Uroš Mozetič 277 The Rack-Brain Pencil-Push of hurt-in-hiding: Translating the Poetry of Seamus Heaney into Slovene Bob ob steno birokrata tuge-v-tajnosti: prevajanje poezije Seamusa Heaneyja v slovenščino Tomaž Onič 293 Translating Recurrences in Pinter’s Plays Prevajanje ponovnih pojavitev v Pinterjevih dramah  I. LANGUAGE Rodica Calciu university Charles de gaulle-Lille 3 An Historical Novel or a Historical Novel? A Case of Variation in Spelling Summary The form of the indefinite article before h is not an easy matter, as mentioned among others, by Jespersen, in A Modern English Grammar. The existence today of written corpora and other online resources allows for a wider and, hopefully, a more reliable examination of variants. The present paper presents the results obtained from an analysis of the forms of the indefinite article before words beginning with h found in the Gutenberg corpus, therefore, in literature, and in The British National Corpus (BNC). Quantitative data are presented and accounted for in a synchronic and diachronic perspective. Key words: variants, loss of [h], synchrony, diachrony “An Historical Novel” ali “a Historical Novel”? Primer razlikovanja v pisavi Povzetek Katero obliko nedoločnega člena uporabiti pred h ni preprosta odločitev, kar poleg drugih avtorjev omenja že Jespersen v A Modern English Grammar. Danes številni korpusi pisnega jezika in ostali elektronski viri dopuščajo zelo široko in verjetno tudi bolj zanesljivo analizo variant. V tem članku so predstavljeni rezultati analize rabe oblik nedoločnega člena pred besedami, ki se začenjajo s h in se nahajajo v Gutenbergovem korpusu, torej v književnosti, in v britanskem narodnem korpusu (The British National Corpus). Kvantitativni podatki so predstavljeni in utemeljeni tako s sinhronega kot diahronega vidika. Ključne besede: variante, izguba [h], sinhronija, diahronija An Historical Novel or a Historical Novel? A Case of Variation in Spelling 1. Introduction For an English teacher in France, the problem of the form of the indefinite article before words beginning with h is not an unimportant one. Otto Jespersen in A Modern English Grammar( part VII, p 407) qualifies it as “not quite simple”. The indefinite article, he adds, has two forms: “an” before a vowel and “a” before a consonant. But from Chaucer to Kipling, the form “an” has been used not only before vowels but also before h. And then Jespersen gives an impressive list of authors (unfortunately without the exact indication of the particular passage and the work) who have used “an” before about 33 English words beginning with h in stressed syllables and 19 before h in unstressed syllables. As he confesses “for years I took the harmless trouble of noting down all the examples I came across of an before h but probably left out many instances I found in which a was used before h.” To my knowledge the first person interested in the form of the indefinite article before h and before initial [ju] spelt u or eu was Louis Feipel. In 1929 he undertook the counting of the occurrences of an and a before h in about 300 recently published books or translations (most of them published between 1921 and 1927) by authors of repute, equally divided between American and British ones, and presented the results in an article entitled “A” and “AN” before “H” and Certain Vowels. The paper was written in response to a statement made by Professor J.T. Hillhouse which led one to believe that there was a high degree of uniformity in the use of a before words beginning with an aspirated h, before words beginning with the long sound of , and before words beginning with the sound of and . Professor Hillhouse quotes Fowler’s Dictionary of Modern English Usage (1926) which purports to represent the prevailing usage among present-day writers, to this effect: “An was formally used before the unaccented syllable beginning with ‘h’, but now that the ‘h’ in such words is pronounced, the distinction has become pedantic, and a historical should be said and written; similarly, an humble is now meaningless and undesirable. A is now usual also before vowels preceded in fact, though not in appearance, by the sound of ‘y’ or ‘w’ (a unit, a eulogy, a one)”. 2. Feipel analysis First, Feipel analyses words beginning with h (the form of the indefinite article in front of words beginning with initial initial [ju] spelt u or eu will be dealt with in another paper) according to whether the syllable containing it is accented or not. Thus, he divides the words into two classes. He mentions that there is unanimity in the use of the form an before the four words containing a silent h: (borrowed in ME from French with no h in spelling) an heir, an hour, an honour and an honest. Their pronunciation without [h] was long prevalent. And he concludes that the occurrence of an a form is practically unthinkable. In the first class containing words with a stressed first syllable he investigates the words humble and hundred/hundredfold : Word Article British English American English humble a 2 0 an 0 4 Table 1 You can see the results of the investigation of the word humble in the table above. He considered that the regular form a before h was only found in British English while in American English the “abnormal an form” was found. But as in the rest of his article he never asks himself questions as to why this is so. We are actually told by Wells (1986) that a h-less form of the word humble is still found in the American south so that this is exactly what one would expect to find here. Word Article British English American English hundred/hundredfold a 0 0 an 5 2 Table 2 In the case of hundred/hundredfold the prevailing form an may have the explanation given by Jespersen who admits to it being “especially tenacious”. In the second class the syllable containing h is not accented. And the first word he analyses is hotel, which if we are to be accurate has the first syllable stressed with secondary stress. The investigation of this word revealed another “anomalous” situation, to use Feipel’s words. It is mainly the British authors who use “an hotel” – only one example was found in an American author. He says: “In the 300 volumes examined ‘an hotel’ preponderated markedly over ‘a hotel’.” But no figures are given. This is, in a way, what one would expect, given that according to D. Jones’s Dictionary “some British speakers use the form without h always, others when it is preceded by an”. The form in American English reflects probably the preference of the Americans for spelling pronunciation. In the same class he analyses historic(al) and historian. Word Article British English American English Remarks historic(al) a 7 4 2 authors use both an 4 4 historian a 0 2 an 1 0 Table 3 The use of the two forms of the indefinite article has an explanation in the pronunciation of these words. In British English the word historic(al) is sometimes pronounced without h , though only after an according to D. Jones and Wells. We are told that some RP speakers treat h in unstressed syllables as in historical as if it belonged to the group hour, heir, honour, eg an historical novel . But Gimson mentions that such pronunciations, as well as humour as /ju:m«/, are used by a minority only. In its turn the word historian is sometimes without h when after the indefinite article an according to Wells. In the following 16 examples the an form seems to be “preponderant”. Word Article British English American English hallucination An 6 2 A 3 0 hysterical An 5 1 A 1 3 horizon1 An 4 1 A 2 0 hypothesis An 1 2 A 1 0 habitué An 1 1 A 1 0 hereditary An 2 0 A 1 0 hermaphrodite An 2 0 A 0 0 hermetical(ly) An 2 0 A 0 0 herbaceous2 An 1 0 A 0 0 hieratic An 1 0 A 0 0 hydraulic An 1 0 A 0 0 Hellenic An 1 0 A 0 0 hypertrophy An 1 0 A 0 0 Hidalgo An 0 1 A 0 0 Hungarian An 0 1 A 0 0 histrionic An 0 1 A 0 0 Table 4  it is pronounced sometimes without [h] after the indefinite article an (Wells).  it is sometimes pronounced with silent h in British as well as in american english. 14 rodica Calciu An Historical Novel or a Historical Novel? A Case of Variation in Spelling Wefinditdifficulttofollowhisanalysisforsomeofthewordsastomyknowledge “preponderant” means “larger in number or more important than other people or things in a group” and these words occur in only one form (from hieratic to the end). In the table below the a form is preponderant: Word Article British English American English harmonious a 5 0 an 1 0 hypnotic a 3 1 an 3 0 harangue a 1 0 an 0 0 hyena a 1 0 an 0 0 Herculean a 0 1 an 0 0 Havana a 2 1 an 0 0 Table 5 Here again some of the words are found only preceded by a such as: a harangue, a hyena, a Herculean, a Havana. There are also cases of even break: Word Article British English American English habitual a 2 0 an 2 0 heraldic a 1 0 an 0 1 hiatus a 1 0 an 0 1 hilarious a 0 1 an 1 0 hypocrisy a 1 0 an 1 0 Table 6 . The Gutenberg corpus In my turn I investigated the usage of the indefinite article before words beginning with h, both synchronically and diachronically. Nowadays, such an investigation is facilitated by the existence of a considerable number of computer corpora. I began by investigating the electronic texts available on the internet (part of the Project Gutenberg). I, like Feipen, focused my investigation on texts of literature, but unlike him I did not analyse translations for the obvious reason that the author’s choice of one or the other form may be intentional, reflecting a different dialect be it regional or social. I found a number3 of works of literature in the corpus where the form an of the indefinite article in front of words beginning with h was not used except with the 4 words containing the silent h mentioned above. The number of authors whose work I have investigated and who include variation in the use of the indefinite article is observed is 15: Author Work an+h a+h Remarks D. Defoe 1660 -1731 Robinson Crusoe 1719 an humble British English Moll Flanders 1722 a hundred From London to Land’s End 1724 an hundred (3)4 a hundred both forms occur S. Johnson 1709 -1784 Journey to the Western Isles of Scotland 1773 an hereditary, an humble a habitation, a historian, a hundred British English J. Austin 1775 -1817 Love and Friendship1790 an happiness, an historian,an horrible, an horrid an humble British English Sense and sensibility1811 an habitual, an heavy,an heightenedan hysterical a happy(10),a happier,a horrid, a hurried, a husband, a hurry, a happiness Pride and Prejudice1813 an hopelessan hurried , an husband Emma 1815 an hesitation an hundred (2) Ch. Darwin 1809 -1882 On the Originof Species 1859 an hermaphrodite, an hexagonal, an herbaceous, an hereditary, an homopterous British English The Voyage of the Beagle, 1909 an herbarium, an horizon, an humble(2) E.A.Poe 1809 -1849 The Fall of the House of Usher 1839 an habitual American English R. H. Dana 1815 -1882 Two Years before the Mast 1840 an hermaphrodite American English Ch. Dickens 1812 -1870 A Tale of Two Cities 1859 an hotel a honest (3)(Mr. Cruncher ),a honouring (Mr. Cruncher) British English Great Expectations1860-1 An hotel a honour ( Joe) Oliver Twist 1837-8 an habitual, an habitual, an hysterical a honour (Charley), a honour (Mr. Sikes)  works ranging from goldsmith to Huxley.  the number in brackets indicates the number of occurrences. 1 rodica Calciu An Historical Novel or a Historical Novel? A Case of Variation in Spelling The first conclusion to draw is that in the works of authors such as Defoe or Jane Austin there is vacillation in the form of the indefinite article before words beginning with h in stressed syllables (e.g. hundred, happy, horrid, husband, hurry). They seem to be in free variation. But later, with Darwin, the form an is used in front of words beginning with h if the syllable is unstressed. Words with a stressed syllable preceded by an (besides an a form) are reduced to humble and hotel both with an earlier h-less form. Beginning with the works of Dickens we find the form a in front of the words containing a silent h. Here we are, fittingly, in the 19th century, when concern about a “correct” form of speech became more marked than before. People became increasingly aware of forms of speech different from those of their immediate circle. It is in the 19th century that London became a favourite setting for fiction and with Dickens the Cockney speaker entered English literature. He was the most extensive and successful depicter of Cockney speech. Convinced that people are their behaviour, are their words, are their gestures, Dickens uses visual suggestions of non-standard speech rather than phonemic transcription of speech. Of the 6 salient phonemic features which characterise Cockney speech, h-insertion and h-dropping are the most constant signals. Dickens makes use of the apostrophe for slurred speech (e.g. unnat’ral), and because it is difficult to signal h insertion he uses the form a in front of the words with silent h such as honest and honour. He does not exploit the Cockney for comic purposes. He saw the Londoners as individuals with their own culture. He uses the a form of the indefinite article to represent the speech of Mr. Cruncher the uneducated and superstitious odd-job-man in the Tale of Two Cities. “It’s enough for you,” retorted Mr. Cruncher, “to be the wife of a honest tradesman, and not to occupy your female mind with calculations when he took to his trade or when he didn’t. A honouring and obeying wife would let his trade alone altogether.” The form a instead of an is also found in the speech of Joe the uneducated blacksmith in Great Expectations, and of the two thieves Mr. Sikes and Charley Bates in Oliver Twist: “Which you have that growed,” said Joe, “and that swelled, and that gentle-folked;” Joe considered a little before he discovered this word; “as to be sure you are a honour to your king and country.” ‘She’s a honour to her sex,’ said Mr. Sikes, filling his glass, and smiting the table with his enormous fist. ‘Here’s her health, and wishing they was all like her!’ ‘Well, it is a honour that is!’ said Charley, a little consoled.” It is extremely difficult to represent in writing the addition of [h] before a word spelt with a mute h (the consequence of the unphonetic character of the English spelling); this is why Thackery used “Hhonour”. Elizabethan, and even 18th century, authors, who represented vulgarisms so frequently, do not seem to use omissions and misplacing of h’s as characteristic of low class speech. After Dickens, G. B. Shaw also uses the form a instead of an before the word honest as a means of denoting non-standard English (in the put-on accent of Jeff Smilash alias Sidney Trefusis in An Unsocial Socialist). As a matter of fact Shaw had some knowledge of phonetics (as seen from the preface to Pygmalion), so his Cockney reflects better the contemporary reality than Dickens’s. “The young lady’s hi,” he said suddenly, holding out the umbrella, “is fixed on this here. I am well aware that it is not for the lowest of the low to carry a gentleman’s brolly, and I ask your ladyship’s pardon for the liberty. I come by it accidental-like, and should be glad of a reasonable offer from any gentleman in want of a honest article.” 4. The BnC I continued my research investigating another corpus – this time a synchronic one, namely the BNC. The British National Corpus (BNC) is a very large corpus (100 million word collection of samples) of written (90%) and spoken (10%) language from a wide range of sources, designed to represent a wide cross-section of current British English, both spoken and written. I checked all English words beginning with h investigated by Feipel and this is what I obtained. I did not include the words which were preceded by the a form of the article only. Table 8 If we compare the data obtained from the BNC and the data found by Feipel, we realise the differences are slight even if 100 years have passed between them. On one hand, three  the domains given in the corpus are: a=arts, aS=applied Sciences, Bt=Belief and thought, C=Commerce, i=imaginative, L=Leisure, nS=natural Sciences, Sk=Spoken, SS=Social Sciences, Wa=World affairs. When the occurrences were very many i did not count all the domains as, in the end, it did not seem to be relevant.  Shows the number of occurrences.  Shows the number of texts in which they are found.  the words in italics are those more often preceded by the form an or equally used with both. words (hidalo, Havana and hermetic ) were not found in the BNC; on the other, there is a tendency to use a preponderant a instead of a preponderant an in the words beginning with h in unaccented syllables: hereditary, herbaceous, hermaphrodite, histrionic, hydraulic, hypothesis, hysterical. So there are 35 words in Present-day British English beginning with h which are used with the two forms of the indefinite article. In the majority of cases the form a is, however, preponderant. The form an is preponderant in habitué, Hellenic and historic. There is an even split in hallucination and heraldic. Feipel considered that historic and historical were evenly divided between an and a; According to the BNC the word historic seems to take more an and historical more a. A more thorough investigation is probably needed in this case. I also investigated the 4 words beginning with a mute h in the corpus and collected the following data: an+word Number Domain a+word Number Domain heir 83 / 83 Heir 0 honest 312 / 242 Honest 2 / 2 I, Sk 1 honour 122 / 122 Honour 0 hour 5967 / 1648 Hour 21 / 21 A3, WA2, SS2,I3, L2,Sk 8,C1 Table 9 As can be seen from the table above, two of the words show variation in the form of the indefinite article: honest and hour. Honest preceded by a was found in the spoken data and once in the Imaginative domain; there were 8 occurrences of a in front of hour in the spoken data too. Unlike the examples found in the Gutenberg corpus the examples from the BNC are not examples of Cockney speech. So there seems to be great variation in the form of the indefinite article before h in present-day English, as there was also variation in the past. It is true that terms like “variability”, “variation” and “variety” are terms which have always held negative connotations. According to a large number of dictionary definitions they have been associated with some degree of unreliability, lowering of standards, or as falling wide of the accepted norm in many walks of life. We must admit that human nature has a strong tendency to favour conformity to standards, uniformity and conservatism, and to disfavour non-conformity, diversity, change. But as linguists we accept the widely-held view that language variation and change are natural processes rather than symptoms of degeneration and decay. In order to account for the variation of the form of the indefinite article in front of words beginning with h we investigated the history of /h/ in English. We analysed first the etymology of the words examined (found in OED on CDROM), and put down the date of their entry into the language, as can be seen in the following table: Noun Etymology Date of entry Pronunciation habitual Ad.med.L habitual-is, from OF habit, abit 16th hbO habitué F habitué,L habituat 19th 9 hbue, hallucination late L alucination-em, F hallucination 17th h,lu :sel Q harangue OF arenge , harangue,OHG hring 17th h1 Hellenic L Hellenicus 17th he:nN herald OF herault but Germanic origin,OHG haren 14th heG heraldic F héraldique 18th hN herbaceous L herbace-us ,F herbacé 17th hbeV hereditary L hereditari-us 17th h, hermaphrodite Ad L hermaphroditus, a Gr 14th h:, W heuristic Gr, cf.Ger.heuristik 19th hjN hiatus L hiatus 16th hV hierarchical Gr, cf F hierarchique 17th ,:O hilarious L hilari 19th hV historian F historien, L historia 16th :10 historic Ad L historic-us, a Gr 17th h11 historical Ad L histori-cus, a Gr 16th h12 historically Ad L histori-cus, a Gr 16th hi13 history L historia 14th hL histrionic L histrionic-us, cf.F 18th ,hN holistic Gr. 20th hN holy OE, OHG 11th L homogeneous L homogene-us 17th ,h:V Horatian L Horatian+us 18th hQ horizon OF orizonte, L horizont-em 14th h14 hospital OF hospital, L hospitale 14th O hotel F htel 17th 15 human F humain,L humanus 14th hju:mQ humble OF umble, humble, L humil-em 13th O hundred OE 10th ndrG Hungarian L Hungaria 17th nQ hydraulic Ad.L hydraulic-us, a Gr. 17th h:N hypnotic F hynotique, L hypnoticus 17th hN hypothesis Gr, cf.F hypothese 16th hV hysterical L hysteri-cus fromGr, cf F hysthérique 17th N Table 10 Table 10  in British english pronounced without [h ] (D. Jones) 0 Sometimes without h when after an (Wells)  Sometimes without h when after an in British english (D. Jones and Wells) 9 In British English pronounced without [h ] (D.Jones)  Sometimes without h when after an in British english (D. Jones and Wells) 10 Sometimes without h when after an (Wells) 3 Sometimes without h when after an in British english (D. Jones and Wells) 11 Sometimes without h when after an in British English (D.Jones and Wells)  Sometimes without h when after an (Wells)  Some people use the h less pronunciation (D. Jones) 12 Sometimes without h when after an in British English (D.Jones and Wells) 13 Sometimes without h when after an in British English (D.Jones and Wells) 14 Sometimes without h when after an (Wells) 15 Some people use the h less pronunciation (D.Jones) LANGUAGE 21 n investigation of their etymology shows that most of them are words borrowed from ench or via French from Latin. The only 2 exceptions are holy and hundred which are OE An investigation of their etymology shows that most of them are words borrowed from French ords. All these words begin with what is conventionally referred to as a voiceless glottal or via French from Latin. The only 2 exceptions are holy and hundred which are OE words. All these words begin with what is conventionally referred to as a voiceless glottal fricative. These fricative. These are the two sources of the Present day English /h/in initial position. st, it is the OE sound h which in initial position was similar to the Mod. E. sound – e.g. are the two sources of the Present day English /h/in initial position. First, it is the OE sound h which in initial position was similar to the Mod. E. sound – e.g. habban (have) – and it is represented by the letter h. habban (have) – and it is represented by the letter h. Then, a new initial /h/ was introduced in English in words borrowed from French having an Then, a new initial /h/ was introduced in English in words borrowed from French having an initial homme , un b) a so calle ision and liaiso : le letter h. But the letter h in French has two values: a) a mute h in words of Latin origin : l’homme, un , b) a so called a s pira tedted val valu e w hichich hinders hinders e l ision and liaison : le homard, un tial letter h. But the letter h in French has two values: a) a mute h in words of Latin origin : homard, un homardThe “h aspirée”comes from words of Germanic origin and is now mute homard. The “h aspirée”comes from words of Germanic origin and is now mute too. . ometimes without h when after a in British English (D.Jones and Wells) In Latin the letter h represented an aspirated sound in word-initial position. But apparently in the classical period a weakening of the aspirated sound took place in non-onomatopoeic words, which explain s the recommendation of Quintilian in the 1st century AD to keep h both ometimes without h when after an in Brit sh English (D.Jones and Wells) in spelling and pronunciati on. But the tendency among the “pseudo-cultivated” to insert h ometimes without h when after an in British English (D.Jones and Wells) ometimes without h when after an (Wells) ome people use the h less pronunciation (D.Jones) before words beginning with a vowel16 was known to arouse the irony of contemporary writers in the 1st century BC. 13 The spelling of French words of Latin origin beginning with h was erratic in OF and ME, probably representing an h-less pronunciation. AN scribes whose command of English was incomplete often vary in their treatment of initial h – both omitting and inserting it incorrectly. It was common for different areas to have even different spelling conventions for the same sounds and these conventions had to be reconciled when a standardised spelling arose. In the 4 words already mentioned (heir, honour, honest, hour) the h-less pronunciation had been retained in spite of the spelling (the explanation lies in their frequent use); but in most cases the letter h began to be pronounced in late ME and early Modern English – a phenomenon that continued well into the 19th century. The words: herb, humble, hospital, and humour are examples of late sounding of h. So writing affected speech. V. Fromkin (1993 ) considers that spelling influences the pronunciation of infrequently used words and gives the example of not pronounced in hour and honest but pronounced elsewhere. For example herb is undergoing sounding of h now. It is pronounced in Standard British English but not in Standard American English. . Conclusions The use of the form an of the indefinite article in front of a word beginning with h may reflect the loss of [h] in pronunciation. Lack of [h] in words adopted through French from Latin does not depend on English sound change, but on French pronunciation. But we can talk about pre-vocalic h-loss17 as an English sound change. Pre-vocalic [h] loss refers actually to two18 different phenomena: one that belongs to vulgar or dialectal speech confined to stressed syllables, and one a normal process that belongs to educated speech and is confined to unstressed syllables. Milroy, who studied the history of h loss in stressed syllables, reached the conclusion that the phenomenon started in Early ME about the 14th century and had a certain amount of prestige before then spreading to the lower orders of society, and from urban to rural regions. But there seems to have been a period in the 16th century when h-dropping must have been associated with ignorance and lack of education, and therefore avoided (mainly by the middle class). It seems that the upper and middle classes would treat h as a stylistic variable, omitting the etymological h in informal speech and restoring it in more careful and public speech. By the 18th century /h/ dropping was certainly recognised as vulgarism. Then there was the second [h] loss phenomenon in unstressed syllables, which is viewed by linguists as a “more normal process” but, as mentioned by Dobson, there is very little evidence of it. This phenomenon accounts for the variant pronunciation of 7 words in our corpus in the two up-to-date pronunciation dictionaries used and for the variation in the form of the indefinite article. But one thing is normally neglected in the presentation of the history of h, namely that it is a weak segment in English (it is regarded as a strong, voiceless onset of the vowel that follows), and therefore it is a candidate for spontaneous loss. Linguists have looked for evidence of h- loss in OE but have not found any, although there may have been some loss in OE according to Milroy. H-loss in Germanic languages does not seem natural – probably because of the heavy stress on initial syllable. Anyway, what is sure is that the French-English contact was the single most important influence on the rapid progress of h-loss in ME. As far as the history of polite “Received” English is concerned it seems to have been one of slow restoration of a segment that had been lost in many dialects and was variable in some others. This explains why words beginning with h before a weakly stressed vowels, as in historic, Hungarian, hysteria, etc., are pronounced now with a restored [h], while the literary convention persists of writing an, and even pronouncing it, before the following h.  according to Milroy the history of h-loss in stressed position knew 3 forms: loss before sonorants in such combinations as: /hl, hn, hr/, loss before glides /w/ and loss before vowels.  this is the view shared by Jespersen and Dobson. So we can view h as a variable with a long and fluctuating history characterised by a general tendency to progressive and conscious stigmatisation of h-loss. And in conclusion, as an explanation for the two existing forms a historical or an historical (novel) has been given, it seems that these two variant forms can be tolerated for a long period without discernible movement toward reduction of variants. This phenomenon is called in the literature “personal -pattern variation” as opposed to geographical variation, stylistic variation, etc. As for the variant forms of the indefinite article in front of hour and honest found in the BNC I wonder if this is not to be considered as hypercorrection on the part of some middle-class speakers who are afraid of dropping the [h] and insist on pronouncing it even when it should not be pronounced just because it exists in spelling. Bibliography Dobson, E.J. 1968. English Pronunciation 1500–1700. 2 volumes. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Feipel, L.N. 1929. “A” and “AN” before “H” and Certain Vowels. American Speech 5, no. 6: 442–54. Fromkin, V., and R. Rodman. 1993. An Introduction to Language. Hartcourt Brace Jovanovich College Publishers. Jespersen, O. 1949. A Modern English Grammar. Part I, Part VII, George Allen § Unwin Ltd. London. Milroy, J. 1983. On the sociolinguistic history of /h / dropping in English. In Current Topics in English Historical Linguistics, M. Davenport et al., 37–54. Odense: Odense University Press. Taillé, M. 1995. Histoire de la langue anglaise. Armand Colin. Wells, J.C. 1996. Accents of English. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Dictionaries Jones, D. 1997. English Pronouncing Dictionary. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Wells, J.C. 1990. Longman Pronunciation Dictionary. Longman. Oxford English Dictionary. 1994. Second Edition on compact disk by J.A. Simpson and E.S.C. Weiner. Oxford: Clarendon Press. 1994. Corpora British National Corpus. http:// www.natcorp.ox.ac.uk The Gutenberg project. http://www.gutenberg.net Dušan Gabrovšek university of Ljubljana Faculty of arts, english Department On Not Remembering/Knowing the Right Words: The Reverse Dictionary under Review Summary The paper focuses on the onomasiological situation in monolingual dictionary consultation: When the reference need is not the typical one of looking up the meaning of an unfamiliar word or sense, but one of knowing what you want to say/write but cannot think of or do not know the right word(s). There are several English-language reference sources available that attempt to meet this kind of reference need, notably several “reverse” dictionaries, the Longman Lexicon, the Language Activator, the Superthesaurus, and a few more, including one online reference. Such sources are typically hybrid works, in the sense that they try to provide several kinds of lexical information that we normally expect to find selectively in different sources (general dictionaries, thesauruses, dictionaries of quotations, etc.). The work analyzed in some detail is the American Flip Dictionary (Kipfer 2000), designed “for when you know what you want to say but can’t think of the word” (cover subtitle). User perspective in particular is highlighted. Keywords: reverse dictionary, onomasiology, user perspective, concept Kadar nam prave besede umanjkajo: Analiza obratnega slovarja Povzetek Prispevek se osredotoča na onomasiološko komponento pri rabi enojezičnega slovarja -ko ne potrebujemo pomena neznane besede ali pomena, ampak ko vemo, kaj želimo reči/napisati, a se prave besede ne moremo spomniti oz. je ne poznamo. V angleščini obstaja več del, ki skušajo zadostiti tej priročniški potrebi, zlasti “obratni” slovarji, Longman Lexicon, Language Activator, Superthesaurus ter še nekateri, med katerimi je vsaj eden vir elektronski. Ta dela so običajno hibridna, ker podajajo več vrst leksikalnih podatkov, katere običajno pričakujemo selektivno obravnavane v več vrstah jezikovnih priročnikov (splošni slovarji, tezavri, slovarji citatov itd.). Prispevek predstavi tudi ameriško delo Flip Dictionary (Kipfer 2000), ki je namenjen tistim, ki “vedo, kaj želijo povedati, a se ne morejo domisliti prave besede” (podnaslov na platnici). Še posebej je izpostavljena uporabniška perspektiva. Ključne besede: obratni slovar, onomasiologija, uporabniška perspektiva, pójem On Not Remembering/Knowing the Right Words: The Reverse Dictionary under Review 1. Introduction: A great variety of reference tools Mostpeoplewillagreethatdictionaries areindispensable.Theyprovideavirtuallyunchallenged alphabetized inventory of words and phrases with information on their meanings; they may also teach us how to pronounce those words, and indeed how to use them, often supplying us also with etymology, selected encyclopedic material, and more. But there are, to be sure, other types of reference materials and their formats (McArthur 1995), demonstrating that dictionary users often need more than alphabetized inventories of lexical items invariably followed by the explanations of their meanings. Indeed, to take an example, it was over 25 years ago that Makkai (1980, 127) complained about dictionaries largely ignoring the associative groupings of lexemes as they form natural semantic nests around concretely observable and abstract (unobservable) entitites observing that their traditional reliance on alphabetization highlighted a totality of the available lexis while ignoring frequency of usage, exact range of dialectal habitat, the speaker’s sociological status, etc. In short, it is clear that we may well be in need of a radically different, diversified type of dictionary than most of us are used to consulting, one incorporating not only an alphabetized list of words and their meanings or equivalents in another language but pictures and photographs, examples of use, encyclopedic and culture-related matter, usage notes, topicalized lists, miniature in-text lexical fields, and more, but it is evident that there can be no efficient single dictionary of this kind: Our lexical needs, expectations, reference skills, language proficiency, etc. are so vastly different! 2. Onomasiology galore To get us going, let us briefly consider the need to have access to vocabulary items in a non-alphabetical manner (McArthur 1986). This can be implemented not only by dictionaries but also thesauruses, often referred to as word finders, today commonly alphabetical (Hanks 2000) rather than conceptual (Kipfer 2001), very occasionally both (Jelllis 2002), not infrequently seen as the only true “alternative” to dictionaries. Thesauruses have provided us, ever since Roget’s 1852 pioneering Thesaurus of English Words and Phrases, first conceptually but later increasingly alphabetically too, with alternative ways of referring to -and talking about -a certain concept or idea and the items it is semantically closely related to, that is, its field, either in a synonym-oriented or lexical-field-oriented framework. Today, some of them are available online, such as Roget’s Interactive Thesaurus (Kipfer 2004) which, by the way, probably supplies much more than you are ever likely to need, say as many as 40 entries when you type in the innocent-looking adjective entire. But is there anything in addition to thesauruses? Well, there is, in fact, more than one might think at first, though not really that much, at least when compared to the alphabetical semasiological (=word-to-meaning) reference tools known as dictionaries; for the English language, there are quite a few onomasiological (=meaning-to­word) reference sources, a category defined by “the direction from concept to word, rather than from word to explanation” (Hartmann and James 1998, 102). These include not only thesauruses and synonym dictionaries but e.g. McArthur’s pioneering Longman Lexicon (1981), or the more recent Longman Language Activator (Summers 1993), plus its offshoot, The Essential Activator (Summers and Gadsby 1997), three hybrid works combining features of a dictionary and of a thesaurus. They basically build on a fairly old concept, one realized as early as 1902 in a Thesaurus Dictionary of the English Language created by the American philologist Francis A. March. However, the onomasiological dictionary today is a weak force compared to its A-Z cousin (Sierra 2000). While for the purposes of this paper I will not discuss topical wordbooks such as TheWord Menu (Glazier 1992) and Descriptionary (McCutcheon 1995), or topical reference works at large (e.g. Franck 1990), there is also the little used if heavily advertised “world’s first full-language idea-pinpointer,” Henry Burger’s controversial Wordtree (1984-), hailed as “the world’s only full-language Reverse Dictionary -it directs you from a mere idea to its precise wording,” not to mention George Miller’s WordNet, an electronic lexical tool available only on-line, basically a web of about 140,000 English words linked in a myriad ways, and the Plumb Design’s Visual Thesaurus -launched in 1998 -that draws on the WordNet.1 But do such works cover all, or at least most, of the reference needs an average language user/learner is known to have? Not really. If conventional bilingual dictionaries do supply, for the most part, answers to our basic questions posed in the interlingual mode (what does this L2 [=foreign-languge] word mean? How do you say this L1 [mother-tongue] segment in an L2?), the monolinguals typically providing further support in terms of meaning -by definition -and usage, there is also a common vocabulary problem where you are aware of what you want to say but just cannot find or remember the word(s) to say it. Thus (Dobrovol’skij 1994, 263), while monolingual dictionaries are based on the principle “from sign to concept”, and their bilingual counterparts on the principle “from sign to sign,” what we still often miss are reliable dictionaries which are organized “from concept to sign” and can be used for text production. . The reverse dictionary This is precisely where the reverse dictionary comes in, a fairly uncommon but general-audience-type reference tool, the topic of this paper.2 Also known as the word-finding dictionary, this is “a type of reference work which supplies words for meanings” (Hartmann and James 1998, 156), and thus represents a distinct category of the onomasiological dictionary. It simply provides words you do not know or cannot think of but can “describe,” and is a monolingual-oriented largely native-speakers’ encoding tool. In this paper, rather than focusing on the reverse  there exists, in addition to a desktop edition, an online edition of this interesting and original work, available at http://www.visualthesaurus. com/online/about.html. it basically shows the interrelationships between words and meanings as spatial maps.  note that the term reverse dictionary is used in this paper in the “popular” word-finding sense; there is also the specialist scholarly variety also known as a tergo dictionary, reverse-order dictionary, or reverse index (Hartmann and James : ), a specialized tool for linguists listing words in alphabetical order according to their spelling from right to left, so that words ending in a come first, and those ending in z come last, sofa e.g. coming among the first entries and fuzz among the last (Plag 003: ). this kind of organization is very convenient for the study of suffixes. dictionary of a single-feature, i.e. reverse-only, type (e.g. Bernstein 1988, Edmonds 2002), I will focus on a work (Kipfer 2000, another two such works being Sisson 1994 and Kahn 1989) that tries to combine the narrowly focused reverse dictionary with other features we have come to associate with dictionaries in general. This kind of work is typically monolingual, designed for encoding needs (finding the right words rather than understanding what they mean), and often advertised as a practical and useful vocabulary builder, word finder, memory jogger, and/or an entertaining and helpful work assisting one in doing crossword puzzles and helping other word game lovers (cf. e.g. Edmonds 2002, back cover). I am not aware of any such work being available on CD-ROM; only one -to the best of my knowledge -is currently available on the Internet (OneLook); overall, it is very good, but shows the typical problems of so many online resources: It offers too much, and sometimes produces nonsensical results. It is a fact that dictionary users know very little about how such a work is actually put together; even the editors of such works are as a rule tight-lipped as to how they went about making their work, at least judging from the front-matter sections. Likewise, there is very little to be found in the literature about how such works are really used. It certainly seems that the makers and users of such works as a rule do not engage in an awful lot of meaningful interaction. Moreover, there is no recognized basic entry format, or type of headword/headphrase, not even in theory, associated with the reverse dictionary: The entries can be single-word concepts, phrases, entire definitions, or some combination of these, not to mention additional features such as pictures, thesaurus entries, quotations, tables etc. Furthermore, it is likewise unclear what counts as a subentry and whether it should be there at all. The essential point is, in such a work there exists a non-general word you are groping for (target word), and the idea is to get you to that word via the simpler clue (or cue) words. The challenging idea -not addressed in this presentation, though -is whether such a work can be done in bilingual terms, and how exactly; if anything, it cannot be easy, because I am not aware of any such work for any given language pair. Overall, the reverse dictionary does not seem to enjoy a place of pride among linguists and lexicographers, and it does not in all likelihood rank very high on the reference-tool list of most users either. The reasons for this state of affairs are not entirely clear, but certainly include the following: (1)anythingnon-alphabeticalandnon-semasiological(=notgoingfromwordtotheexplanation of its meaning) is widely viewed with suspicion as being too subjective; only the alphabet is seen as a reliable and objective organizational principle. (2) dictionaries are used in decoding (=interpreting meaning) much more than in encoding (=text generation), and they are traditionally associated with well-defined tasks of translating and interpreting word meaning. These facts militate against the reverse dictionary becoming a major mainstream reference tool. (3) the best-recognized situation calling for a dictionary lookup is one where a “difficult” word or sense is encountered that needs to be checked. Not knowing a word for a concept is a decidedly “less serious” problem. This is doubtless why the reverse dictionary is often considered to have entertaining value only, as a curious work designed mostly for crossword puzzlers and word lovers. Moreover, the fact that there is no universal method of ordering associated with the reverse dictionary makes it somewhat inconspicuous on the rank list of respectable and useful reference sources. 4.Digression: Concepts It is obvious that in this context, concepts are clearly important. Concepts are either universal ones, i.e. those that are shared by all human groups and in all probability are innate, or unique ones that belong to a single human group (usually, a single language community) and reflect this group’s unique experience and way of life. Finally, intermediate concepts may be more or less widespread across cultures and reflect certain commonalities of human experience, or they may be characteristic of a certain geographic and/or cultural area, in which case they are likely to reflect commonalities of experience and way of life based on contact. According to a school of linguistic thought (Goddard 1996, 146), there are in every natural language only some sixty “apparently indefinable meanings,” or semantic primes/primitives which we can expect to find expressed “lexically” in every language. They include substantives like i, you, someone, something, people, predicates such as know, want, feel, see, hear, do, happen, move, say, determiner-like elements such as this, other, the same, one, two, many, all, spatial concepts like where, here, under, above, far, near, side, inside, temporal concepts like when, now, after, before, logical elements like if, because, not, maybe, can, descriptive and evaluative concepts like big, small, good, bad, and relational elements such as like, kind of, part of. These can be expressed in a variety of ways, by affixes, (different) words, or fixed phrases. Could we possibly exploit these concepts in framing basic -vs. non-basic - lexical onomasiological needs? In what way? By taking these to be truly basic, building from them onward? Not likely, as it does not seem to be the case that this could be a valid reverse-dictionary distinction from the users’ viewpoint. . Situations calling for the looking-for-words approach Let us, for starters, examine the following everyday situation, common to native-speaker-type monolingual exchange. You are talking (or writing, for that matter) about a president who had to leave office because he had done something real bad, and you start groping for the right word that just seems to elude you; it must be there, but whether it is on the tip of your tongue or nowhere at all, you would really like to find it and use it. You clearly need help, but what kind? Well, obviously something to lead you from the concept -whichever way you can express it -to the needed target word.3 In other words, you need lexical advice taking you from a general, “easy” word or concept/definition to a more specific, specialized, more “difficult” one. Note that there may be more than one “level” involved in what you need; you may, depending on the level of your linguistic sophistication, be, for instance, in need of 3 impeachment (a) a term for the link between sound and meaning in spoken language (sound symbolism), or (b) the technical term for sound symbolism (phonesthesia). While beyond the scope of this paper, the need for this approach in dealing with a foreign language shows in related interlingual situations: This time you engage in translation work, and what happens is that (a) you know a word in your mother tongue, say polovičar in Slovene, a rather negative term for a person who does things only superficially, in a generally unsatisfactory way, literally “only in half.” You look up this word in an encoding bilingual dictionary (Slovene-English), but the word, sure enough, is not there; (b) in translating a text into an L2, say English, you want to translate the Slovene word dioptrija or trebušnjak, only to you find, to your consternation and despair, that no Slovene-English dictionary lists it; (c) you need to translate into English conventional Slovene word combinations such as prepričljiv poraz or proverb-like expressions such as brez muje se še čevelj ne obuje and dobre stvari so zmeraj tri. Needless to say, none can be found in that damn Slovene-English dictionary purporting to be one for encoding. What are you to do? Clearly what is needed is an efficient source providing access to those items in English! But do we have sources that furnish us with this kind of badly needed lexical information, and, provided we do, are they really geared to our needs? What certainly needs careful consideration is the issue of what kind of lexical items we need to retrieve in this non-alphabetical, concept-to-word fashion. The logical answer would be, in the monolingual mode at any rate, virtually everything but everyday, common-core items, that is, scientific and technical, dialectal, slangy, (somewhat) specialized, uncommon, obsolete, literary, etc. vocabulary. As there are thousands of such items in English, this obviously suggests a base problem -one of selection. Secondly but just as importantly, how are we to access those elusive “words hard to come by” -via (a) definitions, (b) merely simpler, broader concepts, (c) simpler synonyms whenever they exist, or indeed (d) some combination of these? And to top it all, should such a dictionary merge with a standard alphabetical dictionary “of definitions,” i.e. a monolingual explanatory dictionary, however selectively? . Reverse-style examples OK -let us consider matters the other way around: Look at the usefulness of the following fairly unconventional “lexical arrangement” taking you from simpler to more specialized lexical items: TO BEGIN (of sth undesirable): to break out BEGINNING: (~of sth unpleasant or difficult): onset TO COLLECT, TO GATHER: ~esp. information: formal to garner COMPLETE [adj.]: (of sth undesirable): utter; unmitigated; rank; downright; arrant TO CRITICIZE: ~severely: to pan TO DECORATE: ~food: to garnish FAMOUS: ~for something bad: notorious ; infamous FULL OF (sth negative): rife with TO INTRODUCE: ~sth unpopular: to impose TO PREVENT: ~sth bad: to foil WIDESPREAD (of something bad): rampant deadly food poisoning, as from canned food: botulism device to measure the size of earthquakes: seismometer getting better after taking a “dummy” drug: placebo effect Stockholm’s amusement park: Skansen. . Open questions: Makers and users We certainly need to have vocabulary available in this way too, right? The problem is, how do we organize it? How “deep” is it to be? How extensive? One of such works (Edmonds 2002) claims 31,000 entries (=target words), but says nothing about the number of cue words; another (Kahn 1989) claims over 50,000 target words and more than 9,000 cue words. Is it enough? Which one? For what purposes? Moreover, can we identify a basic need: Finding the more abstruse synonyms of common words, or is it rather words for concepts that seem to be likely candidates for causing difficulty in remembering/knowing them? Indeed, are such works first and foremost “memory joggers” or “vocabulary builders” -or both? Could -should -a reverse dictionary be integrated with a full-blown conventional monolingual dictionary in a single alphabetical sequence, like some dictionary-cum-thesaurus-type of English-language reference works available from major publishers such as Oxford University Press and HarperCollins? These are serious questions, but the underlying message, I think, is that reverse dictionaries do not really fare well in the world of reference products. They are few in number, are exceedingly rarely reviewed in the literature, and are as a rule not studied from the viewpoint of either their compilers or potential users and their real needs. This just might be basically a reflection of the fact that dictionaries are chiefly known to be used primarily in decoding, not in encoding, meaning that what we do in consulting a dictionary is necessarily looking up the meaning of a certain lexical item; but then it might just as well be due to a tradition where alphabetization has reigned supreme for a long time, virtually unchallenged for several centuries... 8. More than reverse dictionary information Anyway, the idea of offering a mere selection of vocabulary items “in reverse” seems to have struck some lexicographers as falling short of user expectations, so they responded with reverse dictionaries that offer more than that, for instance topicalized subject lists, tables, and/or pictures a la pictorial Duden dictionaries, plus conventional dictionary listings of defined items (Kahn 1989). This suggests that the mere reverse function is perceived to fall short of the needs of people likely to consult this sort of reference tool. One such work is the substantial American Flip Dictionary (Kipfer 2000); a 700-page affair, it sets out to help solve the lexical problem of “knowing what you want to say but not being able to think of the word”, or of having “a general word in mind but you want something more specific” (back cover). Moreover, this (1) reverse dictionary is combined with (2) thesaurus entries while also offering numerous (3) tables covering subjects such as army, art, cocktails and mixed drinks, the human body, minerals, sports, some (3a) providing mere alphabetized lists, such as animal sports (p. 27) or apples (p. 32), others (3b) keeping the reverse-dictionary alphabetized-definition-first style, such as animal terms (p. 28) or basketball terms (p. 56). Certain thesaurus entries such as doctor, group, lens, are immediately followed by (4) “related terms” listings where the definition always begins with the headword it follows. It is in this way that this work promises to take you from a “meaning” you are aware of to the “word” you need (p. 1). These features are illustrated below: (1) reverse dictionary license to distribute company’s goods or services in an area: franchise light, allowing passage of: translucent, transparent lighting technician on film: gaffer limb falling asleep, tingling of: obdormition (2) thesaurus entries dictionary: glossary, lexicon, onomasticon, reference, vocabulary, wordbook, words encyclopedic: broad, complete, comprehensive, exhaustive, extensive, general, scholarly, thorough, universal lip: border, brim, brink, edge, kiss, labellum, labium, margin, mouth, nozzle, rim, spout, tip; backtalk, insolence, sass panic: alarm, anxiety, chaos, confusion, consternation, crash, dismay, dread, fear, frenzy, hysteria, overreact, scare, slump, stampede, terror, trepidation, unnerve 3) tables (3a) bronco busting , bullfighting , bull riding , calf roping , camel racing ... (3b) animal active at night: nocturnal animal active during the day: diurnal animal coat: fell, hair, hide, pelt, skin, wool body of dead animal: carcass (4) “related terms” listings [following the entry lens] lens covering watch: lunette lens curved inward: concave lens curved outward: convex 9. Problems and suggestions If you consider the above examples, you are likely to be struck by several issues that still await definitive answers. Here are those I can think of: -Who needs reverse dictionaries, how exactly do they use them, and in what communicative situations? -“Multi-purpose” reverse dictionaries such as Kipfer (2000) are in essence hybrid works characterized by vague inclusion principles and unclear reference value; that is why it is their browsing and entertainment value that is most frequently singled out for special mention. -The arrangement of such a work is always controversial, as there is no universal ordering schema. There seem to be no systematic or even prototypical reverse-dictionary needs. -What kinds of lexical items do users of a reverse dictionary need to get access to? -Should such a work combine the prototypical reverse-dictionary features with others such as pictures, defined items, topical lists, charts and tables, or not? -Should the reverse dictionary be primarily a print dictionary or an online tool? Preferably the latter, but what about those users who do not have access to the Internet? -Should it offer access to needed words via concepts or definitions? If the latter, how are they to be arranged and do you (and how) use cross-references? As to suggestions for the ABC of making the reverse dictionary, here are those I believe are most worth mentioning: (1) A reverse dictionary should preferably be reverse-type work only; definitions-based access seems to be the most useful one. However, it is true that additional features -particularly thesaurus entries -may make the work more attractive to potential buyers. (2) It should be compiled on the basis of a clear methodology4 rather than as an idiosyncratic work echoing the mind of its compiler(s). Ideally, it should be based on (potential) user needs. (3) There should not be an overwhelming number of items on the target side (users dislike not only not finding something but also having too much of it). (4)Itshouldbeavailableinelectronic(online)ratherthanbookform,thereasonsbeingtheflexibility of format, the possibility of constant revision based on interaction with users, and the possibility for users to look for information via a range of potential routes. It would be ideal for users to simply input the concept to be searched through their ideas, using any words in any order.  On-the-spot comments on the topic of this paper, made immediately after the presentation, on  May 00, included the interesting question of entry selection, and i suggested, as a possible first step, incorporating all labeled entries -or only those labeled for subject field -from a standard monolingual learner’s dictionary (e.g. Summers ed. 2003 or Sinclair ed. 2003); later on, users would contribute substantially to expand the work in any possible way. Another question from the floor was whether a reverse dictionary of metaphors only is feasible; while the idea is challenging, such a work would be very difficult to implement, aside from the fact that this can be seen as a typical linguist’s -in stark contrast to users’ -suggestion. Bibliography Bernstein, T.M. 1988. Bernstein’s Reverse Dictionary. 2nd edn., rev. and expanded by D. Grambs. New York: Times Books. Dobrovol’skij, D. 1994. Idioms in a Semantic Network: Towards a New Dictionary-Type. In EURALEX 1994 Proceedings, ed. Martin, W., Meijs, W., Moerland, M., ten Pas, E., Sterkenburg, P. van, and Vossen, P., 263-70. Amsterdam: N.p. Edmonds, D.J., comp. 2002. The Oxford Reverse Dictionary. Reissue, with corrections. Oxford Paperback Reference. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Franck, I.M. 1990. On the Tip of Your Tongue: The Word/Name/Place Finder. New York: Signet. Glazier, S. 1992. Random House Word MenuJ. New York: Random House. [new, expanded edn. 1997] Goddard, C. 1996. Cross-Linguistic Research on Metaphor. Language & Communication 16, no. 2 (April): 145-51. Hanks, P.W., ed. 2000. The New Oxford Thesaurus of English. Oxford: Oxford University Press. [Rev. edn. 2004] Hartmann, R.R.K. 1994. The Onomasiological Dictionary in English and German: A Contrastive Textological Perspective. In The World in a List of Words, ed. W. Hüllen, 137-49. Lexicographica, Series Maior #58. Tübingen: Max Niemeyer. Hartmann, R.R.K., and G. James. 1998. Dictionary of Lexicography. London: Routledge. Hüllen, W. 1994. A Great Chain of Words: The Onomasiological Tradition in English Lexicography. In Anglistentag 1993 Eichstätt Proceedings, Volume XV, ed. G. Blaicher and B. Glaser, 32-46. Tübingen: Max Niemeyer. Jellis, S., ed. 2002. Microsoft7 Encarta7 College Thesaurus. A Bloomsbury Reference Book. New York: St. Martin’s Press. Kahn, J.E., ed. 1989. Reader’s Digest Reverse Dictionary. London: Reader’s Digest Association. Kipfer, B.A. 2000. Flip Dictionary. Cincinnati, OH: Writer’s Digest Books. Kipfer, B.A. 2004. Roget’s Interactive Thesaurus. Available free at http://thesaurus.reference.com/help/faq/roget.html Kipfer, B.A., ed. 2001. Roget’s International Thesaurus7. 6th edn. New York: HarperCollins Publishers. Makkai, A. 1980. Theoretical and Practical Aspects of an Associative Lexicon for 20th Century English. In Theory and Method in Lexicography: Western and Non-Western Perspectives, ed. L. Zgusta, 125-46. Columbia, SC: Hornbeam Press. McArthur, T. 1986. Worlds of Reference. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. McArthur, T. 1995. Reference Materials and Their Formats. In The World in a List of Words, ed. W. Hüllen, 1-16. Lexicographica, Series Maior #58. Tübingen: Max Niemeyer. McCutcheon, M. 1995. Roget’s Superthesaurus. Cincinnati, OH: Writer’s Digest Books. [3rd edn. 2003] OneLook Reverse Dictionary. http://www.onelook.com/reverse-dictionary.shtml. Plag, I. 2003. Word-Formation in English. Cambridge Textbooks in Linguistics. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Sierra, G. 2000. The Onomasiological Dictionary: A Gap in Lexicography. In EURALEX 2000 Proceedings, ed. U. Heid, S. Evert, E. Lehmann, and C. Rohrer, 223-35. Stuttgart: Universität Stuttgart/Institut für Maschinelle Sprachverarbeitung. Sinclair, J. McH., ed. 2003. Collins COBUILD Advanced Learner’s English Dictionary. 4th edn. Glasgow: HarperCollins Publishers. Sisson, A.F. 1994. Sisson’s Word and Expression Locater. 2nd edn. rev. by B.A. Kipfer. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall. [First edn. published 1966] Summers, D., ed. 1993. Longman Language ActivatorJ: The World’s First Production Dictionary. Harlow, Essex: Longman Group UK. [rev. edn. 2002] Summers, D., ed. 2003. Longman Dictionary of Contemporary English. New [4th] edn. Harlow, Essex: Pearson Education/Longman. Summers, D., and A. Gadsby, eds. 1997. Longman Essential Activator7: Put Your Ideas into Words. Harlow, Essex: Addison Wesley Longman. Welcome to The Wordtree. http://www.wordtree.com/. Willis, P. 1998. Review of Longman Essential Activator7, ed. D. Summers and A. Gadsby. International Journal of Lexicography 11, no. 4 (December): 357-65. WordNet: A Lexical Database for the English Language. http://www.cogsci.princeton.edu/~wn/. Smiljana Komar university of Ljubljana Faculty of arts, english Department Unenthusiastic Europeans or Affected English: the Impact of Intonation on the Overall Make-up of Speech Summary Attitudes and emotions are expressed by linguistic as well as extra-linguistic features. The linguistic features comprise the lexis, the word-order and the intonation of the utterance. The purpose of this article is to examine the impact of intonation on our perception of speech. I will attempt to show that our expression, as well as our perception and understanding of attitudes and emotions are realized in accordance with the intonation patterns typical of the mother tongue. When listening to non-native speakers using our mother tongue we expect and tolerate errors in pronunciation, grammar and lexis but are quite ignorant and intolerant of non-native intonation patterns. Foreigners often sound unenthusiastic to native English ears. On the basis of the results obtained from an analysis of speech produced by 21 non-native speakers of English, including Slovenes, I will show that the reasons for such an impression of being unenthusiastic stem from different tonality and tonicity rules, as well as from the lack of the fall-rise tone and a very narrow pitch range with no or very few pitch jumps or slumps. Key words: linguistics, prosody, contrastive analysis Medli Evropejci ali izumetničeni Angleži: vpliv intonacije na celostno podobo govora Povzetek Čustva in stališča do sogovorcev oziroma do povedanega se izražajo z jezikovnimi kakor tudi nejezikovnimi sredstvi. Jezikovna sredstva sestavljajo besedišče, besedni red in stavčna intonacija. Namen tega članka je analizirati vpliv intonacije na naše dojemanje govora. Poskušala bom dokazati, da sta tako izražanje kot razumevanje govora pogojena z intonacijskimi vzorci, značilnimi za materni jezik. Kadar poslušamo nerojene govorce, ki se sporazumevajo v našem maternem jeziku, pričakujemo in z razumevanjem sprejemamo napake v izgovorjavi, slovnici in besedišču, hkrati pa težko razumemo in sprejemamo intonacijske vzorce, ki niso značilni za naš materni jezik. Tujci pogosto zvenijo dolgočasno in nezainteresirano za rojene govorce angleščine. Na podlagi analize angleškega govora 10 Slovencev in 11 pripadnikov drugih evropskih jezikov bom dokazala, da razlogi za takšno slušno zaznavo angleščine nerojenih govorcev tičijo v različnih načinih organizacije sporočila, mestu jedrnega zloga, neuporabi padajoče-rastočega tonskega poteka in predvsem v ožjem izkoristku glasovnega razpona. Ključne besede: jezikoslovje, prozodija, kontrastivna analiza Unenthusiastic Europeans or Affected English: the Impact of Intonation on the Overall Make-up of Speech 1. Introduction Speakers express their emotions and attitudes to the addressee(s) and the topic of interaction by means of linguistic as well as paralinguistic features. The linguistic features mainly encompass the choice of words and the syntactic structures, whereas the body language is the main paralinguistic feature. Intonation has both linguistic as well as paralinguistic features. The linguistic function of intonation is expressed in linking grammar and spoken discourse. Intonation plays an important role in the organization and interpretation of the message. Its paralinguistic function is in providing additional meaning to what is supplied by the words themselves: it expresses emotions and attitudes to the addressee(s) and to the topic of conversation. This article examines the prosodic features involved in the organization of the message and the transmission of attitudes and emotions in English. The features are tonality, tonicity, the pitch movement and the pitch range of tones. The article discusses the problems that non-native speakers of English may have in mastering the English prosody and the consequences that their prosodic inadequacies may have on the overall image of their speech. 2. Tonality and tonicity in English Languages differ in the way their syntactic constraints allow them to organize information in a sentence or an utterance. In other words, some languages have very fixed rules regarding the word order, while others exhibit more flexibility in that respect. Languages with a very developed system of inflections, such as Slovene, allow for more variation in the order of sentence elements than English. In order to organize and convey information to their addressees, speakers use two processes: they divide information into smaller chunks (i.e. intonation units) and within them choose one lexical item to bear the main prominence (i.e. nucleus). The former process is called tonality, the latter tonicity. Tonality divides speech into intonation units where one unit contains one piece of information. What that piece of information is largely depends on the speaker’s perception of the organization of information. This means that ‘rules’ for the division of speech into intonation units are to be understood as guidelines rather than hard and fast rules. Halliday (1967) observes that very often intonation units coincide with clauses and refers to such cases as neutral tonality. Cases where intonation units do not coincide with whole clauses are cases of marked tonality. Tench (1996) recognizes two types of marked tonality: first, cases when two clauses are joined into one intonation unit, and second, when one clause is covered by two intonation units. Marked tonality of the latter type occurs in English in the following cases: -the separation of the subject (i.e. the theme) from the predicate (i.e. the rheme) when the former is relatively long; -a clause element precedes the subject of the clause and becomes the theme; -some adjuncts; -vocatives. Apart from its function in the organization of information, tonality in English plays an important role in disambiguating certain syntactic structures, such as defining and non-defining items, apposition and complex verb phrases. Every intonation unit has one obligatory syllable, the tonic syllable or the nucleus – this is the minimum. Many word groups have more than just one syllable. The tonic is acoustically the most prominent syllable in an intonation unit and as such also the carrier of the most important piece of information. As with tonality, there is neutral and marked tonicity. Tench (ibid.) recognizes neutral tonicity when the tonic falls on the last lexical item in an intonation unit. When this is the case, the information of the whole intonation unit is in focus. In other words, everything is new information. Marked tonicity is when the tonic falls on a non-final lexical item, when the final is old information, or when it falls on a grammatical word. With marked tonicity the information of only a part of an intonation unit is in focus, i.e. the part up to the tonic. Thus the focus is narrow. Contrast – lexical and grammatical – is probably the most frequent case of narrow focus. The other important role of tonicity in English is to mark the syntactic contrast between: -a reflexive and an emphatic pronoun, -a vocative and a direct object to a transitive verb, -a comment adjunct and an adjunct of manner. . Tones and the pitch range Tones, pitch patterns and the pitch range play the most important role in conveying the speaker’s attitude to the message or to the addressee(s). The attitude is conditioned by non­linguistic elements (e.g. the context of situation) and expressed by paralinguistic (i.e. the body language) and linguistic features (i.e. intonation). The prosodic resources for the attitudinal meaning are the pitch level, the range of tones and different types of the pre-tonic segments and the pitch range of the whole pitch pattern. Several renowned linguists have tried to describe the intonation system of English. The description of the American English intonation system was developed by Pike (1945), who was the first to have combined the tone range with the attitudinal meanings expressed by intonation. He developed a kind of tonal morphology whereby he tried to isolate meanings of the basic pitch levels and pitch movements. He used 4 pitch levels for the analysis of meanings of falls, rises, fall-rises and rise-falls when they begin and end on one particular pitch. Pitch level 1 corresponds to high, while pitch level 4 corresponds to low. Level 2 corresponds to mid-high and level 3 to mid-low. The attitudinal meanings vary according to the type of tone and the pitch range they cover. So for example, a fall from level 3 to level 4 sounds ‘’mild’’ and ‘’detached’’ and is used for ‘’professional aloofness’’, while a fall from level 1 to 4 is ‘’intense’’ and ‘’unexpected’’ and is used to express ‘’gushiness’’ (Pike, 1945). In the British tradition authors such as Crystal (1975), O’Connor and Arnold (1975) and to some extent also Halliday (1967, 1970) tried to ascribe attitudes and meanings of different tones of the British English standard pronunciation, i.e. Received Pronunciation (RP). Crystal (1975) concentrated mainly on the description of the pitch range and movement on the tonic syllable and ignored the pitch movement and range in the pre-tonic segments. His system recognizes 7 tones whose position in the sentence contributes to the attitudinal meanings. Halliday (1967, 1970) tried to combine attitudinal meanings into one general intonation system, which also included information structure, syntactic contrasts and the communicative functions. Unlike Crystal, he included in his model the pre-tonic pitch movements (i.e. key) and came up with a list of 14 patterns. O’Connor and Arnold’s description of RP (1975) intonation distinguishes among 7 tones (of which the fall and the rise can be either high or low). In addition there are 4 pre-tonic pitch movements (i.e. heads): high, low, rising and falling, as well as two pre-heads (high and low). The combinations of pre-tonic pitch movements and tones are divided into 10 tunes with more or less transparent names. In addition they also recognize emphatic tunes which contain stepping, sliding or gliding heads. The ten tunes can be used in all sentence types, but their attitudinal meanings sometimes vary considerably. The positive side of the model is that it provides attitudinal meanings for the whole tune and not separately for the tone and the pre-tonic segment. The problem, however, is that the attitudinal meanings are as diverse as the type of situation they can occur in. 4. native English vs. European English It is a well-known fact that intonation varies considerably from one language to another. One need not be a trained musician to hear that the changes of the pitch movement in English are different from those of, for example, French, German, Spanish or Slovene. Comments like, ‘’It wasn’t so much what they said as the way they said it,’’ show how strongly people react to intonation. Although native speakers are normally not consciously aware of intonation, they are nevertheless very sensitive to it – especially when it runs counter to their expectations. When they hear an unusual intonation, they usually do not take immediate offence but instead search for an implied meaning. If they cannot find it, they may be bewildered, and if the same intonation pattern persists, they may find it irritating. Very often native speakers of English find foreigners speaking English either rude and aggressive or flat, boring and uninterested in conversation. 4.1 Experiment As a linguist and a teacher of English I was keen to find out the reasons for such unpleasant impressions that non-native speakers of English make on the native ones. Thus I decided to measure and analyse speech produced by 12 different European speakers of English. I chose the recordings of 11 European speakers reading the same short text in English. The recordings accompany the book by Michael Swan and Bernard Smith (2001) entitled Learner English. Since there is no recording of a Slovene speaker, I decided to record 10 Slovene learners of English reading the same text as the other speakers included in the study. I thereby obtained a small corpus of 21 recordings which contained the readings of non-native speakers of English from the Netherlands, France, Germany, Greece, Italy, Norway, Portugal, Poland, Russia, Slovenia (10 speakers), Spain and Turkey. The analysis was both audio and instrumental. The instrumental analysis was used for the measurement of the pitch range of tones as well as the whole intonation units. The measuring units were semi-tones, which are equally suitable for male and female voices. 4.2 Text The model text consisted of 25 intonation units. The tones were mainly falls (18) and fall-rises (7). The pitch range extended from high to low key. My .uncle,|.John • Smith, .|has a very good • job. || He’s a uni• versity professor, actually, | and very in.telligent. || But the strange ..thing is, | he’s always .losing things. || It’s quite ex.traordinary. || .Last .• Thursday, for example, | .during a trip to .• London on business, • | he accidentally left his um• brella on the train. || It must be the sixth • time he’s lost that same umbrella. || It’s a rather • special one, | • with red and yellow • stripes, .| a present from his youngest • daughter | for his • birthday one year. || ..• Anyway, | the .• next day, | as .• soon as he was free, | he called at the Lost • Property Office | to • ask about it. || .• Fortunately, | it’s in the next street to his • house. || He’s no • stranger to the people there. || . They know him quite • well. || • (. = fall; .. = fall-rise; . =high key; . = low key) The analysis of the recordings focused on five parameters: 1) division into intonation units, 2) nucleus-placement, 3) pitch movement of nuclear and pre-nuclear segments, 4) pitch range of nuclear tones, 5) pitch range of intonation units. . Results 5.1 Division into intonation units Most speakers observed the punctuation marks and divided the text into intonation units accordingly. Since in this text a large majority of intonation units did overlap with punctuation marks, this was generally not a problem. There are a few exceptions, however, which are considered to be wrong or inappropriate in the given context. First, almost all speakers read actually and for example as separate intonation units thus assigning them full lexical meaning which they do not require in their contexts – the text would be perfectly grammatical and clear even without actually and for example. Second, 17 of 21 (80.9%) informants divided the sentence (1) into two word groups (1a) (1) It must be the sixth time he’s lost that same umbrella (1a) It must be the sixth time | he’s lost that same umbrella which is wrong because it emphasises old information. The part of the sentence following sixth time conveys old information and as such should be unstressed. Treating it as a separate intonation unit means assigning it prominence to which this chunk of information is not entitled. Third, 15 of 21 (71.4%) informants read the intonation units (2 – 4) as two units instead of one (2a – 4a). (2) during a trip to London on business (2a) during a trip to London | on business. (3) a present from his youngest daughter (3a) a present | from his youngest daughter (4) for his birthday one year (4a) for his birthday | one year These divisions are not as problematic as the one in (1a) since they do not express old information. Nevertheless, they are awkward since they either split a phrase (2a, 3a) or give emphasis to an adjunct (4a). All three cases produce unjustified marked information. 5.2 Nucleus placement Choosing the right lexical item to become the carrier of the most prominent syllable in the intonation unit did not cause many problems. However, the problems that did occur, occurred with 18 speakers (85.7%). The errors could be divided into three groups. First, there are cases where speakers stressed the wrong item in a compound. This happened in two compounds: university professor and Lost Property Office. In both cases the speakers decided to put the nucleus on the last word in the compounds instead of on the first and second, respectively: (5) *university professor (5a) university professor (6) *Lost Property Office (6a) Lost Property Office. The second frequent mistake occurred with function words, which are by default unstressed and as such cannot carry the nucleus: (7) *strange thing is (8) *rather special one (9) *to ask about it. The third most common occurrence of misplaced nucleus produced unjustified narrow focus. The nucleus did not occur on the last lexical item but was moved further to the left, giving the impression that all information following the nucleus was old: (10) *it must be the sixth time (11) *it’s in the next street to his house (12) *he’s no stranger to the people there. 5.3 Pitch movement of nuclear and pre-nuclear segments The analysis of the recordings has shown two patterns that seem to be typical of all non-native speakers of English and may indicate a general intonation pattern typically used in reading. The first pattern refers to the pitch movement of the nuclear tone where all non-native speakers of English used simple rising intonation in non-final and falling intonation in final intonation units. (13) My .uncle,| John • Smith, |has a very good • job. In addition to that, the falling pitch contour continued even after the falling nuclear tone as in (14): (14) It must be the sixth • time he’s lost that same umbrella. The analysis of the use of tones has shown that all speakers used the falls and the rises. Only 3 speakers (French, Norwegian, Spanish) used also the fall-rise. It is difficult to find a plausible explanation for that. It may be that they have been taught to use it, or were exposed to native English speech a lot (the Norwegian speaker said that she had spent several months in the UK). As stated above (cf. Section 3), the pitch movement of the pre-nuclear segment is another prosodic resource for attitudinal meanings. The analysis has shown two prevailing pitch movements in pre-nuclear segments. The first one is gradually falling with no step up in pitch for the falling tone: (15) den he acci tal ly left his um • brella on the train. It seems that this pitch movement is more natural and in agreement with the prevailing tendency of gradually descending pre-nuclear patterns. The problem is not so much in the descending pre-nuclear segment as in the lack of a pitch jump from a relatively low to a higher pitch. Low pitched falling tones are often interpreted as cool, dispassionate, reserved and dull (O’Connor and Arnold, 1973:48). The other typical pre-nuclear pitch movement is gradually rising and followed by a high fall: (16) The pitch movement of the whole intonation unit does indeed cover the whole pitch range, but its pre-nuclear crescendo (which is followed by a high falling tone) may be understood as protesting (O’Connor and Arnold, 1973:73). .daugh youngest ter. from his a present 5.4 Pitch range of the nuclear tones and the whole intonation units The pitch range of nuclear tones and the whole intonation units plays a very important role in the transmission of attitudinal meanings. It is a common belief that in English falling tones with a narrow pitch range express dullness, sadness and the speaker’s lack of interest in conversation. Wider pitch ranges of the falls, on the contrary, express just the opposite: liveliness, involvement in interaction and positive attitudes to the addressee(s). The instrumental analysis has shown that the non-native speakers of English produced falling tones whose average pitch range did not exceed 5.1 semi-tones. The native speaker’s falling tones reached 11.6 semi-tones which is almost one octave. The average pitch range of whole intonation units and its variations among different non­native speakers of English is best presented in the below table: Nationality Average range in semitones (ST) Dutch (female) 22 French (female) 11 German (male) 10 Greek (male) 6 Italian (female) 18 Norwegian (female) 10 Polish (female) 8 Portugese (male) 6 Russian (female) 8 Slovene (male and female) 11 Spanish (male) 7 Turkish (male) 10 The average pitch range of the intonation unit produced by a native speaker of English is around one octave. . Conclusion When native speakers of English listen to foreigners speaking English, they very often claim that non-native speakers sound dull, uninterested in conversation, rude or even aggressive. It has been established that there are a few prosodic features on the basis of which the attitudinal meanings are expressed and perceived. The most important seem to be the type of pitch movements and their range. The audio and instrumental analyses of spoken English produced by 21 Europeans have shown certain general traits of English spoken by foreigners. Firstly, the organization of the message into intonation units is usually unproblematic, a claim that cannot be made for the nucleus placement. The main problem are function words which are in English stressed only in cases of marked tonicity. In many other languages, however, the function words can be made more or less prominent. Secondly, the reason for dull and boring speech lies in the rhythm. There are two features common to all foreign speakers: all words are equally prominent (i.e. no distinction is made between weak and strong forms of function words) and all the statements have the same pattern (rises in non-final intonation units and falls in the final ones). Thirdly, the pitch movements on the nuclei are falling and rising. The fall-rise, which is the second most frequent tone in English, was used only by three speakers. And finally, the pitch contours of the whole tunes are gradually descending. There is no step up in pitch after the falling pre-nuclear segment and the falling tone. Instead, the fall begins at the same pitch height where the pre-nuclear segment has finished. In addition the pitch range of both, the tones and the whole intonation units, is relatively narrow (i.e. > 12 semi-tones). Among other reasons for sounding flat and uninterested it is important to mention that most foreign speakers rely too much on punctuation, read words instead of meaningful units and exhibit certain fear and uneasiness using a foreign language. Bibliography Crystal, D. 1975. The English Tone of Voice. London: Edward Arnold. Halliday, M.A.K. 1967. Intonation and Grammar in British English. The Hague: Mouton. Halliday, M.A.K. 1970. A Course in Spoken English: Intonation. London: Oxford University Press. O’Connor, J.D., and G.F: Arnold. 1973, 2nd. Intonation of Colloquial English. London: Longman. Pike, K.L. 1945. The Intonation of American English. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Swan, M., and B. Smith, eds. 2001, 2nd. Learner English: A Teacher’s Guide to Interference and Other Problems. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Tench, P. 1996. The Intonation Systems of English. London:Cassell. Toporišič, J. 1984, 2nd. Slovenska slovnica. Maribor: Založba Obzorja. Dora Maček Zagreb university Some Reflections on the Language of Contemporary Scottish Prose Summary A northern variety of Old English developed in Scotland into what has become known as Scots. This language of the Scottish court and literature prior to the Acts of Union was abandoned by both king and poets after the Union with England. English replaced Scots in public institutions, to schools and literature. The most fatal development was the change of attitude of the Scottish themselves, who came to regard Scots as an inferior variety of English. There have been repeated attempts by Scottish writers, to revive Scots as a national language of Scotland. Since the 1970s a number of projects have been launched to study the present state of Scots with the aim of initiating a language policy which would reintroduce Scots into public life as one of the national languages of Scotland. A number of Scottish authors have used Scots in their works. This paper will examine the language of some contemporary prose texts seeking to establish the density of Scots elements and estimate their place on the scale between Standard Scottish English and Scots, which may be one of the means of establishing an acceptable standard variety. Key words: Scots, Scottish English, literature, standard Scots Nekaj razmišljanj o jeziku sodobne škotske proze Povzetek Severna oblika stare angleščine se je razvila na Škotskem v škotščino (Scots). Po združitvi z Anglijo so kralj in pesniki zavrgli jezik, ki se je pred tem govoril na škotskem dvoru in rabil v književnosti. Angleščina je tako zamenjala škotščino v vseh javnih institucijah in književnosti. Največ škode pa je povzročil spremenjen odnos samih Škotov do škotščine, ki so ta jezik imeli za manjvredno varianto angleščine. Ves ta čas so se škotski književniki trudili, da bi škotščina spet postala nacionalni jezik Škotske. Od leta 1970 dalje je nastalo več projektov za preučevanje sodobne škotščine, vsi z namenom razviti jezikovno politiko, ki bi ponovno uvedla škotščino v javno življenje kot enega od nacionalnih jezikov Škotske. Številni škotski avtorji, so v svojih delih začeli uporabljati škotščino. Namen članka je s pomočjo analize nekaterih sodobnih proznih besedil ugotoviti pogostost škotskih jezikovnih elementov in določiti njihovo mesto na lestvici med standardno škotsko angleščino in škotščino. Na ta način bi se lahko vzpostavila sprejemljiva standardna varianta. Ključne besede: škotščina, škotska angleščina, književnost, standardna škotščina Some Reflections on the Language of Contemporary Scottish Prose 1. Introduction The language of literature has always naturally drawn on various forms such as vernaculars or other languages. In this fashion it both preserved less “literary” language forms and enriched the currently used standard variety. It could do so because literature, especially poetry, is regarded as a type of text where considerable freedom and experimentation with the language is allowed. Literary texts that deviate from a strict linguistic and socio-linguistic norm are at least tolerated if not actually admired. Literary texts in turn, could serve as a source for the development of the standard. I shall first shortly review the causes of the discontinuation of Scots as a national standard in literary and public use in general. Next, I will mention its appearance in literature after the Union with England and then analyse several prose texts by contemporary Scottish authors of the latest Scottish Renaissance. I shall use the general idea of a model devised by McClure (1979) for the evaluation of Scottish poetry. 2. The demise of Scots The establishment of the Union between England and Scotland in the 17th and 18th centuries coincided with the process of linguistic standardisation in England. The unifying role of the language and requirements of perfection and permanence favoured as a linguistic standard the usage that was near the centres of power, both geographically and socially, that is, London. Moreover, this process entailed that only this standard language had a high social status and all other regional and social idioms were considered vulgar and lacking validity. The two Acts of Union1 caused Scots, the language of the Scottish Court and administration as well as of literature, to suffer a serious demise. The King2 and his Court, the legislature, the aristocracy and politicians, together with a number of literary men, moved to London. In Scotland under such conditions “King’s English had displaced King’s Scots” (Muirison, 1977/4) as the language of administration, the courts, and education. In fact, King’s English only extended the functions it already had, since it had gained a foothold in the church in Scotland a century earlier.3 The doom of Scots was thus brought about by the Scottish themselves. Scots was largely reduced to a vernacular, and the attitude towards vernaculars was in the eighteenth century formed by “figures who commented frequently on language matters. One of  the union of Crowns in 03, and the union of Parliaments in 0.  James Vi King of Scotland, became James i of england (03) as the successor of Queen elisabeth i. at the introduction of the reformed church in Scotland in 0 the english translation of the Bible was used and thus provided prestige for english. them was Swift” who regarded Scots and Irish “as particularly low dialects” (Blake 1981;108ff). Pronunciation, spelling, and the use of words were particularly censured. Scots had both a specific orthography and a distinct vocabulary, which had developed through centuries in both literary and administrative usage, and it was based on northern Anglo-Saxon dialects (e.g. McArthur 2002, Murison 1977). Accesstoadvantageouspositionsinsocietyalsomeantaccesstoeducationandthustotheprestigious form of speech. This in turn created prejudice and stigma for other varieties.4 In the meantime, in Britain the Scots language lost some of the stigma because of the Scottish literary revival in the 18th and 19th centuries, which was brought about by such widely popular authors as Robert Burns and Walter Scott (Blake, ibid. 136ff). There was, however, no general follow up or development of a language standard and ironically enough, even after the recent devolution of Parliaments,5 Scots is by many, particularly in Scotland, thought to be an inferior type of English. There is still “an abysm of ignorance on both popular and administrative levels” and its “status as a national language of Scotland” has not yet been secured (Submission by McClure to the Education, Culture and Sport Committee, 2003/11; also Corbett 2003; see Maček, 2002–2003). . Scottish literature and Scots Literature has in many cultures been an important repository of the language, which is, in the Humboldtian manner, considered to be one of the tokens of identity of a people (nation). This is very true of Scottish literature too. The golden age of literature in Scots, from the middle of the 14th to the middle of the 16th century, produced a number of important authors, particularly a poetry of “considerable bulk and distinction” (Muirison 1977, 4). From the 17th century on, Scottish authors, including the King himself, had abandoned Scots for English. But there were repeated revivals of Scottish literature in which Scots was an important aspect. Thus the Scots of Robert Burns became well established in poetry, and it emerged in the literary prose of Walter Scott and other authors. Here it was restricted to the dialogue of those social classes who normally spoke it. Narratives, however, continued to be written in English. Exceptions are lengthy monologues by some characters whose natural idiom is Scots, such as in Stevenson’s short story “Thrawn Janet” (Dunn 1995). The entire story is told by an older man in the “moorland parish of Balweary, in the vale o Dule”, except for a short introductory passage in English. As Tulloch (1985) points out, the Scots “voice” is often, as in this novel, an older and less educated speaker, sometimes a woman, who would, like Scots be “associated in people’s minds with the home” (ibid., 170). In its more recent history, Scottish literature, particularly its language, became a political statement (Macaffee 1985). Thus in the Scots Renaissance of the first half of the 20th century, Hugh McDiarmid’s nationalist programme (Dunn 2000) was based on a Scots which had its roots in the Lowlands dialect, but was enriched with words from older Scots usage, and from other dialects. Hence it is often known as Synthetic Scots (McArthur 2002). McDiarmid wrote  it is interesting how this attitude has persisted to the present day, and not only in english speaking societies.  in  a new Scottish Parliament was elected after votes for devolution of the parliamentary union with england carried the day. his most important poetry in it, and his example was followed by a number of authors. The experiment, which never actually succeeded, was not so much linked to a general Romantic sentiment that was common in the earlier centuries, but to a Scottish political nationalism, which found its expression in literature (Mcaffee 1985). In spite of the general failure, Scots, no matter whether synthetic or dialectal, was now well established in poetry. In prose the situation did not change much from the previous practices: narrative was written in Standard English, dialogue in Scots, or elements of Scots. But as Tulloch (1985) shows, the distinction between dialogue and narrative was broken down by the authors in various, often intricate ways. Notwithstanding the plans to create a Standard Scots, no non-literary prose had succeeded; there had been no break-through yet. 4. Renewed interest in Scots In the second half of the 20th century an interest in minority languages and vernaculars was encouraged by the renewal of sociolinguistic thought. Following these new developments Scottish scholars planned programmes for the study and affirmation of Scots as well as Gaelic (McIntosh 1979). At the same time the Scottish literature of the eighties and nineties experienced another Renaissance (Watson 1997), both in poetry and prose, and this time often in an urban setting. The Scots that emerged in this “urban demotic” literature is mostly the urban vernacular of Glasgow or Edinburgh, stigmatised among the middle classes in Scotland (Macaulay 1997, 45ff), as urban vernaculars generally tend to be. The linguistic situation in Scotland today is even more complex than in previous centuries. The reason is that apart from the indigenous languages (Scots, Gaelic and English) a number of immigrant languages (e.g. Urdu or Polish) are spoken by such large numbers of speakers that they have to be recognised as minority languages by the standards of the European Union. These languages have begun to be integrated into the overall Scottish culture, and the literature written by authors with an immigrant background shows the same urban demotic characteristics found in Scottish writers (Corbett 2000). . Scots in the linguistic continuum It has been pointed out (McClure 1979) that Scots and English are used by Scottish speakers in two ways. Speakers in the north-east switch between Scots and English, as bilingual speakers do, depending on the situation. In other areas however, there is usually a continuum between the two, where the focus can shift towards the English or Scots end respectively, depending not only on the situation, but also on the usage of each particular speaker or group of speakers. This makes it sometimes difficult to say whether English with Scots elements is used or Scots with English elements. In other words, the boundary between the two is blurred. As McClure maintains (1979), urban dialects are particularly difficult to define, since the distinctive Scots vocabulary has largely disappeared from these varieties, and sometimes even the Scots phonological features have been replaced by English ones. This situation is mirrored in the poetry of the latest Scottish literary revival as well (Watson 1997). McClure (1979) discussed the problem on the basis of a number of contemporary poems. He devised a chart with two axes: one with a range of styles between literary and colloquial, and the other with a range between “dense” and “thin” Scots (McClure 1979, 29). He has thus shown that there is a continuum in literary expression rather than a form of language that could unambiguously be called Scots. This situation may be said to exist, in literary prose as well, as Tulloch (1985) has shown, using the same terminology, in 20th century Scottish literary prose. Prose fiction falls between the well established usage of Scots in poetry and the practically non­existent non-literary prose with significant Scots elements. I shall look at some late twentieth century prose literary texts observing how Scots is used in them. Attention will be paid to the specific distribution and characteristics of Scots elements in the prose style in comparison with descriptions of earlier literary practices. . Scots in contemporary prose Whereas poems are usually compact texts with the same type of linguistic expression throughout, prose fiction, such as novels and short stories, frequently contains two kinds of discourse – narrative and dialogue. The general pattern has remained the same from the 19th century onwards, as described in Tulloch (1985). It consists of a narrative in Standard English and dialogues in a range from Standard English to rural Scots. The narrative can compare with the “formal” style in poetry, whereas the dialogue is mostly informal. As in poetry there is in prose also a “more or less” relation along the range, where even the narrative can have Scots elements. The dialogues, on the other hand, display a much wider range of “thin” and “dense” Scots. This Scots is accordingly, colloquial. Monologues that have the function of a narrative, follow the linguistic mode of dialogues if the narrator is a speaker of the vernacular (as in “Thrawn Janet”, above and Tulloch 1985). A corpus of short stories and two novels by the “third generation” of writers of the Scottish Renaissance (Watson 1997) has been chosen for the present analysis. The authors are the new “realists” (Watson 1997, 300ff), which is a qualification that determines their use of language amongst other features. As in the previous realistic prose the language of the dialogue aims at expressing the speaker’s idiom. Texts by several authors6 will be examined in order to establish the degree of density of Scots in contemporary literary prose without actually placing the texts on the two axes proposed by McClure. By studying the linguistic expression only, without considering other characteristics that mark the prose as contemporary “Scottish”, we see that 7 of the 12 short stories are written entirely  alasdair gray “Prometheus”, William Mcilvanney “Performance”, eric McCormack “the One-Legged Men”, Shena Mackay “Violets and Strawberries in the Snow”, James Kelman “Home for a Couple of Days”, A Chancer, alan Spence “its Colours they are Fine”, Margaret elphinstone “an apple from a tree”, ronald Frame “Merlewood”, Dilys rose “Street of the three terraces”, Janice galloway “Blood”, Duncan McLean, “Doubled up with Pain”, irvine Welsh, Jutland Bound, Trainspotting. in Standard (Scottish) English.7 Some of them are not particularly set in the Scottish scene, but others have an obvious, even explicit, Scottish setting (Kennedy, McCormack, Frame), and refer to typical Scottish groups of people, e.g. an upper middle class family in the west of Scotland or working class victims of a mining disaster. 6.1Thin Scots. In the “thinnest” Scots of the texts, even in some that are written entirely in Standard (Scottish) English, such stereotypical Scottish words as lad, lass and wee appear and thus add a grain of local flavour to the text. The pattern which is characteristic for the other texts consists, as already mentioned, of narrative parts in Standard (Scottish) English and dialogues in a more or less “dense” Scots. The Scots elements are expressed by the following features or a combination of them, i.e. a) non-standard (English) or traditional Scots spelling, b) vocabulary, and c) occasionally grammar. Examples of this pattern appear in Dilys Rose’s “Street of the Three Terraces”, a story from a working class area. The linguistic markers are only occasionally elided final consonants, e.g. wi his pals, the form of the pronoun ye the Scottish negation in I’m no saying he was an angel or nothing and that’s no the way it was, also with the modal verb “can” ye cannae help thinking. The only Scots word is bairn. The text also has the historical but now vernacular non-standard double negation. This text would appear to have been written in thin Scots. Rather thin is also Duncan McLean’s “Doubled Up With Pain” with an Edinburgh background. The dialogue in this short story contains some vocabulary and grammatical features, but not consistently, which can be said of most other texts too, e.g. laddie (but also boy), ken, wee, lassies, bevy, breeks, hytering about (stumbling about). This could perhaps also be attributed to the continuum mentioned earlier. Some examples are: And if I’d had a drink the night before as well, ken, that would bring it on… I was in a wee world of my own… There are also some discourse elements such as eh? ach, aye. Scots grammar is represented by the following features: a) the continuous form with “stative verbs of inert perception and cognition” (Quirk et al. 1972) also termed “state verbs of perceiving” (Leech & Svartvik 1975) I wasn’t hearing the traffic b) the definite article with the determiner both I saw the both of them looking over the shoulders at the Central, ken… c) the general English non-standard present tense marker -s and I thinks to myself  “Prometheus”, “the One-Legged Men”, “Violets and Strawberries in the Snow”, “an apple from a tree”, “Merlewood”, “Blood”, “night geom­etry and the garscadden trains”. 0 Dora Maček Some Reflections on the Language of Contemporary Scottish Prose d) the possessive prepositional phrase with on, a Gaelic element common also in Irish English you had a sharp tongue on you that day Pronunciation is reproduced in such spellings as ach [a.]. 6.2. Intermediate A range of intermediate texts with a greater variety and incidence of Scots forms are William McIlvanney’s “Performance”, where the speakers are petty criminals so their speech is characterised by common features of a colloquial pronunciation represented in spelling, for example with the apostrophe for a that is omitted in pronunciation. This convention in English literature indicates the widespread colloquial (including RP) pronunciation [in] instead of [i.] -been doin’ a wee job, checkin’ out, ye kiddin’? (Maček & Stanojević 2002) In the Scots Style Sheet of 1947 (Macafee 1985, 14) the apostrophe for omitted consonants was to be eliminated as “unnecessary concessions to the non-Scottish reader” but also “to the basic Standard English literacy of the Scots reader himself ” (ibid.) The apostrophe also marks other elisions characteristic of colloquial (“allegro”) speech, such as [I] in where’s ma sunglasses. The other, also overall, characteristic of colloquial speech, but traditionally spelled in Scots as ye, yer, is the reduced pronunciation of you, your to [ I -. ], Ye want a death on yer conscience? More salient Scottish pronunciations represented in traditional Scots spellings can be seen in such examples as wi’, ma, Ah, Ah’d, whit, tae, intae, windae (for English with, my, I, I’d, what, what’s, to, into, window). Don’t waste ma time. If Ah could, Ah’d cancel ma christenin’ retrospectively … Whit’s a windae for … But even here such spellings are not consistent and Standard English forms are used as well, e.g. it gets translated intae what they want ye tae see (i.e. what not whit). James Kelman in “Home for a Couple of Days” and in the novel A Chancer (the first with a rural and second with an urban-Glasgow setting) uses a range of items, some of them generally urban vernacular (discourse elements such as ta “thank you”, like, or other vocabulary such as daft, skint). More specifically Scots spellings that also represent the pronunciation are e.g. aw and naw [.:], ya, auld, thet, polis, closeby, dont, wasnt, hadn’t. If thet’s what you’re thinking, John was saying: There are the same discourse elements as mentioned earlier: eh? aye, ach, aw, naw, and final but You were worried hen, no me. Eh? Just as well I never called in the polis. You’re back, eh-, Ach, nothing bad if that’s what your’re thinking I’m no kidding but Apart from the almost stereotypical aye, wee, lassie, the texts contain more Scots vocabulary, i.e. heavy beer (stout), ben (in), mind (remember), wee. I just got a wee turn. Grammatical features are a) the Scots negation: no bad, And why’ll no get it back either she’s no daft she’s no your mother We’ve no seen you since Friday at tea-time No mind I was telling you before? (don’t you remember…?) I’ll no force you etc. b) the use of the preposition out, where Standard English has out of in I’m out the habit with Sweeney being out the game. He stared out the window c) article usage in the adverbial the night (Engl. tonight) Hey Shuggie, fucking freezing the night, eh? d) singular for English plural nouns (up the stairs): auld yin up the stair in case it got her out her bed e) interrogative or relative pronoun what like (what sort of) f) forms of the second person personal pronoun ya, ye, yer, and particularly the plural: yous 6.3 Dense Scots The following texts can be classified as “dense”: Alan Spence in his short story “Its Colours They Are Fine”, uses urban demotic Glaswegian as spoken by members of the Orange Order and supporters of the Glasgow Rangers. Besides the usual Ah, ye, ye forms of the pronouns Ah’m wrapping up yer things. there are also the more typically Scots pronunciation-spellings: kin, pit, oan, wrang, wid, ain, wumman, wu’v, tae, whit, ach (Engl. can, put, on, would, own, we’ve, to, what, oh). Ye kin pit them oan when ye get tae Lorne School … whit wid he say… as well as such overall vernacular forms as at’s the stuff. Irvine Welsh in Jutland Bound and the novel Trainspotting employs a different approach, reminiscent of the narrative type as in Stevenson’s “Thrawn Janet”. The narrator in these two texts is a Scots speaker. In distinction to Stevenson’s it is a young urban speaker, whose Scots voice covers almost the entire text. The voices of other characters belong to the same type. a) Pronunciation and spelling: polis, perr (poor), oaf (of), oafay, oan, shoap, kin (can), pit (put), wis, fir jist, gitting, jyikits (jackets), nivir, fitba (football) , another yin, tryin, tae, mooth, doon, oot, aboot, toon, broon, yir, ye, Ah, ma, masel (myself), hissel, thegither, auld, haud (on), cauld, ault, aw, awnight, baws, heid (head), (they call) um, eywis (always), ower, wisnae, dinnae, fae (frae-from), windae, taewards, maist (most), hame, nae mair, hair (here), thair, sais, claithes (clothes), wee brar (brother), shite (shit), went n scored, drizzlin, sittin, tryin, blazin, screamin, wi (with), yir gaunny be, bein, dug (dog), cahsies, eftir, glesses (glasses), brek (break) C’moan ault time’s sek Ah sees Davie Creed comin doon whae’d been standin thair Ah wis determined no tae, a hud pills tae shift fae one minute tae the next b) Grammar: i. negation: no tae notice, wisnae, didnae, no feart naebody, havnae, nae wonder No seen you oot for a while, eh says tae me ii. regularisation of the present tense paradigm, which is typical of English vernaculars too: Ah sais, ah sees Davie Creed comin doon iii. pronouns: second person personal pronoun, particularly the plural youse, yis demonstrative pronouns yon, reflexive hissel, masel iv. interchangeability of the nominative and oblique cases in pronouns: us (for: I) v. past tense regularised: since ah’d went gie, gied, yis, gieing how ah would huv liked tae huv gied them a pill c) Discourse elements: aye (yes) d) Vocabulary: ay (always), ken, without (outside), swedgin (making a hole), deek at (look at), bairn, poxy (spoiled), plukey-faced (pimple-faced) wee, hing oot (hang out), radge (mad, furious), chuffed (rude), doss (stupid, silly), pish, ken, shan (shabby), gaff (babble, chatter), skag (/become/ rotten, wrinkled), voddy (votka), dour (stubborn), pad (footpath; depart), gyp (gype: stare foolishly), todd (euphemistic exclamation for God), tak up the sticks (exert oneself, “enter the fray”) etc. In the text of Trainspotting there is a relatively short section of a narrative in Standard English, where the voice of the main narrator is not heard. Since this is an exception to the narrator’s Scots the text classifies as very dense Scots. Interestingly, even so it is not entirely in Scots as the short narrative text shows. This simple analysis suggests that the Scots voice of contemporary Scottish prose is throughout a lower middle to working class one, which has its parallel in, for example, Tom Leonard’s, poetry. For this reason it does not correspond to an ideal model for a national written standard because it is too obviously a (stigmatised) class variety. On the other hand, according to Corbett (2000, 6), Lallans has failed to substitute Standard English because of the English global dominance and because of the likelihood that it would come to be a marker of the same social exclusion that English represents. Standard varieties, however, including English in England, characteristically are markers of social exclusion. On the other hand, Corbett (2000) quotes a passage from Matthew Fitt’s science fiction novel But n Ben a Go Go (ibid.), which he uses to point out that there is room for an eclectic Scots of no particular regional or class groups. With such qualities it would be appropriate as a general Standard Scots. It seems to me that McClure deems it most important to have a distinct Scots vocabulary for the language to qualify as Scots. The quoted text Scots pronunciation and spelling such as flair, alang, wis, singil, oot, doon, drapped aff, itsel, gless heid, intae, bleeze (blaze), owre, awa, caur (car), etc. and vocabulary such as stoor (dust), glower (stare), forenoon (morning), clatty (gossipy), intormittit (interfered), shoogle (wobble), jink (turn quickly) , dichtin up (dress up), clart (mud), wersh (unpalatable, dull), keek (peep), skellied (screamed), puggie (monkey), heelstergowdie (head-over-heels), skite (dart, slip, strike), cleuk (claw), skitter (slip), vennel (narrow alley), toomness (emptiness), bield (protection), oorie (dismal, gloomy, strange), eerie (ghostly, strange) etc. and such new formations as indie-pouered germsooker (rubber +powered – germ+sucker) or lacra-leggit. The grammar is entirely Standard English, except for the preterit and past participle in –it (intormittit). . Conclusion The language of contemporary literature certainly shows a continuum from Standard (Scottish) English to the vernacular Scots. It also shows a continuum in the application of the latter form in dialogue, ranging from thin to dense, with a dense monologue of the narrator at the far end of the vernacular. With such varying practices some traditional Scots spellings are retained (e.g. mair, dichtin, cauld), and some phonetic spellings preferred (e.g. oaf, polis, comin, without the apostrophe). There is a scale of Scots vocabulary, some of it typical of urban colloquial styles outside Scotland as well, and a range of grammatical features. With a consensus on a standard spelling a standard Scots text would be clearly distinct from a non-standard Scots text, and a major distinction from English. The high number of English words in Scots is likely to diminish with the regular use of Scots words, and that goes for grammar as well. A problem with the influence of English vocabulary is not specific to Scotland, as it is flooding other languages, particularly in certain specific domains. The struggle against them is of varying success as can be witnessed from discussions of this problem.8  For instance an entire issue of the norwegian periodical Sprak nytt (00) is devoted to the problem of “replacement words” for english terms and colloquical usage, and the theme occurs practically in every issue. a similarly problem can be seen in the Croatian periodical Jezik. 4 Dora Maček Some Reflections on the Language of Contemporary Scottish Prose But at present, as with earlier writers, Scots is not the voice of the third person narrator, and it is thus marked by the first person narrator’s group, class or regional membership. In this manner it follows the tradition of non-standard language use in (European) literature in general. It would appear then that Scots is trapped in the compartment allotted to vernaculars with no standard that would be distinct enough from English to warrant the name Scots and the national symbolism that would be attached to it. And yet, it seems that what is needed most is an increase in prestige of Scots words and forms. The fact that the language in contemporary literature is socially and regionally marked reflects the focus of interest in the 1980s, in which typical urban social and cultural scenes are supported by specific linguistic elements. So much so that it has been embraced by writers of the new minorities as their linguistic expression; in this way it does express a consensus on a widely spoken language, which is characteristic of Scotland. This is corroborated by the many features that are shared on all linguistic levels by the above analysed texts. Historical and social conditions have drastically changed since the 18th or 19th centuries when one (prestigious) variety could be imposed on practically all domains of usage. In an age where multiculturalism and multilingualism has become a recognised social fact, and literary expression in minority languages or dialects is being encouraged (e.g. Gröndahl 2001), it is possible to imagine that two or various literary “languages” would develop. In fact a continuum, not unlike the one in contemporary Scottish literature, seems a likely development in a number of cultures, and it could become the norm rather than an exception. The middle of the continuum, in our analysis the “intermediary Scots”, could in that case be expected to dominate the scene. In Scottish literature this would be the Scots that is not English. Bibliography Blake, N.F. 1981. Non-standard Language in English Literature. London: Andre Deutsch. Corbett, J. 2000a. Literary Language and Scottish Identity, ASLS Conference: 13 May 2000, www2.arts.gla.uk/ScotLit/ASLS/JCorbett. html, (accessed January 2002). – – –. 2003b. Observations by John Corbett, Convener of the ASLS Language Committee, submitted to a Scottish Executive Committee investigating Scots Language Provision, ww2.arts.gla.ac.uk/ScotLit/ASLS/Executive_Report.html. (accessed January 2002). Dunn, D. 1992a. Language and Liberty. In The Faber Book of Twentieth-Century Scottish Poetry, ed. D. Dunn, London–Boston, Faber and Faber. – – –, ed. 1995b. The Oxford Book of Scottish Short Stories. Oxford, New York, Oxford University Press. Gröndahl, S. 2001. Tornedalen skrivs in i litteraturen, Invandrare & minoriteter, Tidskrift för forskning, politik, kultur och debatt 1: 5–8. Kellman, J. 1993. A Chancer. London: Minerva. Leech, G.& J. Svartvik. 1975. A Communicative Grammar of English. London: Longman. Macaulay, Ronald K.S. 1997. Standards and Variation in Urban Speech. Amsterdam–Philadelphia: John Benjamins. Maček, D. 2002–2003. The Twilight of Standard Languages? A glance at Scots. Studia Romanica et Anglica Zagrabiensia 47–48: 617–28. Zagreb: Facultas Philosophica Universitatis Studiorum Zagrabiensis. Maček, D. & M. M. Stanojević. 2002. A standard orthography for non-standard English? Studia Romanica et Anglica Zagrabiensia 46: 1–10. Zagreb: Facultas Philosophica Universitatis Studiorum Zagrabiensis. McArthur, T. 2002. The Oxford Guide to World English. Oxford–New York: Oxford University Press. McClure, J. D. 1979. Scots: Its range of uses. In Languages of Scotland, eds. A.J. Aitken and T. McArthur. Edinburgh: Chambers. Quirk, R., S. Greenbaum, G. Leech, and J. Svartvik. 1972. A Grammar of Contemporary English. London: Longman. Robinson, M., ed. 1987. The Concise Scots Dictionary. Aberdeen: Aberdeen University Press. Tulloch, G. 1985. The search for a Scots narrative voice. In Focus on Scotland, ed. M. Görlach 159–80. Amsterdam/Philadelphia, John Benjamins Publishing Company. Watson, R. 1997. Maps of Desire: Scottish. In Scotland in the Twentieth Century, eds. T.M. Devine & R.J. Finlay. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Welsh, I. 1993. Trainspotting, London: Minerva. – – –. 2002. Jutland Bound. www.irvinewelsh.net (accessed, January 2002). Philippa Maurer-Stroh university of Klagenfurt “House-High Favourites?” – A Contrastive Analysis of Adjective-Noun Collocations in German and English Summary Everybody is talking about collocational analyses these days… Despite recent advances in the monolingual sector, the bilingual environment has not yet come under close scrutiny. It is especially the adjective-noun combinations that have become the focus of attention when it comes to contrastive phraseological studies. Adjectives in particular are subject to semantic tailoring and it is important to bear in mind that (predictable) interlingual lexical one-to-one occurrence, such as the English starless night and the German sternlose Nacht, is a mere exception rather than the rule in the bilingual adjective-noun state of affairs. Factors that have to be considered are (non-) compositionality in contrastive multiword units, like barefaced lie – faustdicke Lüge (‘a lie as thick as a man’s fist’), and metaphorical extensions, like haushoher Favorit – hot favourite (*house-high favourite) as well as structural differences in the two languages in question, like (at) short notice – kurzfristig. Key words: phraseology, contrastive linguistics, translation studies, lexicography “House-High Favourites?” – kontrastivna analiza pridevniško­samostalniških kolokacij v nemškem in angleškem jeziku Povzetek Kljub najnovejšemu napredku na enojezičnem področju, pa dvojezično okolje še ni bilo podvrženo natančni analizi. Ravno pridevniško-samostalniške zveze so v centru pozornosti večine kontrastivnih frazeoloških študij. Še posebej pridevniki so podvrženi semantičnemu krojenju, zato se je treba zavedati, da so (pričakovani) medjezikovni leksikalni pojavi, kot sta angleški starless night in nemški sternlose Nacht, bolj naključje kot običaj v dvojezičnih pridevniško-samostalniških pojavih. Dejavniki, ki jih je treba upoštevati, so (ne-)sestavljivost kontrastivnih večbesednih zvez, na primer barefaced lie – faustdicke Lűge, metaforične razširitve, na primer haushoher Favorit – hot favourite, kakor tudi strukturne razlike med dvema jezikoma, na primer (at) short notice – kurzfristig. Ključne besede: frazeologija, kontrastivno jezikoslovje, prevodoslovje, leksikografija “House-High Favourites?” – A Contrastive Analysis of Adjective-Noun Collocations in German and English 1. Introduction At first sight we might believe that English and German adjective-noun combinations will not cause any major troubles, when regarded interlingually, in a bilingual framework, since both of the languages in question have adjectives in attributive position preceding a complex noun phrase where the adjective modifies the noun. But, why is bread, in English, when it is no longer fresh, stale and not dry or old – as it would be in German? And why is that we can use sour, or sauer, as it were, for milk which is no longer fresh and has a bad taste in both English and German? Well, this paper will certainly not give you any answers to the ‘why’, but will try to make you understand that there is more to it than simply translating languages word-by-word. We know that words do not co-occur freely in a language, and this problem of acceptable, yet only sometimes expected, word combinability shows even more strongly when we look at it from the contrastive angle. But first things first. 2. Word combinations The study of words and the company they keep dates back as far as the 19th century; however, it was only in the 1980s that, with John Sinclair, research in lexical co-occurrence relations got a fresh input (Gabrovšek 2003, 186). With the advent of the computer, increased storage capacities and data processing speed have made it possible to deal with large amounts of data. Thus large text files of naturally occurring language, so-called corpora, can be analysed for the unrandomness of lexical patterning producing typical or natural-sounding speech (cf. Hanks 1998, Sinclair 1984, Gabrovšek 2003). Sinclair (1991, 109–10) asserts that the organisation of language can best be described by distinguishing between two underlying principles. The open-choice principle, on the one hand, says that language consists of sequences of words which follow grammar rules of the respective language. The idiom principle, on the other hand, accounts for the fact that “the choice of one word affects the choice of others in its vicinity” (Sinclair 1991, 173) on a level other than grammar, namely on the level of phraseology. According to the idiom principle, “users have available a large number of semi-preconstructed phrases that represent single choices” (Gabrovšek 1998, 114). Unfortunately,thereis,inthefieldofphraseologicalstudy,stillnocommondescriptiveapproach, and going into detail concerning the different concepts behind those semi-constructed phrases, or multi-word units, such as collocations, idioms, clichés, formulae, proverbs, etc., would go well beyond the scope of this paper (cf. Cowie ed.1998 and Moon 1998). The classification of broad phrasal categories suggested by Gabrovšek (1998, 121–22) seems to fit best the needs for a later contrastive analysis. His basic classes are compounds, idioms, collocations and free combinations. 2.1 Free combinations Free combinations, in line with Sinclair’s open-choice principle, are sequences of words that follow rules of grammar and syntax, and whose elements allow for free substitution. They are the least cohesive type of word combinations. We can easily form free combinations such as beautiful flower and beautiful painting or yellow flower and red flower. 2.2Collocations Collocations are loosely fixed, typically and frequently co-occurring word combinations. They are semantically transparent, i.e. their meaning can be derived from the denotative meaning of their elements. Taking up the adjective from the examples above, beautiful typically collocates with female human beings while it is usually not accepted with reference to male human beings – where we would use handsome. As Bolinger and Sears (1981, 55) put it, there is “no reason, as far as dictionary definitions of words are concerned. We don’t say it because we don’t say it”. 2.3 Idioms Idioms are relatively fixed and semantically opaque word combinations, i.e. their overall meaning is not the sum of the denotative meanings of their constituent parts, e.g. in give somebody the red carpet we are not actually giving someone a carpet which is red, but rather we ‘give special treatment to an important visitor’. 2.4 Compounds Compounds are completely frozen combinations of two (or sometimes even more) words. They are referred to technically as endocentric when the semantic head is inside the combination, i.e. the meaning of the whole combination characterises the determinatum, while they are exocentric when the semantic head lies outside the combination and they denote an unknown variable – the connection of which can at best be traced diachronically. Examples of endocentric compounds are wet suit (= a special type of suit), prime minister (= a special type of minister) and magic carpet (= a special type of carpet); by contrast, combinations like lame duck, white elephant, wet blanket and grey matter are called exocentric compounds as they do not denote ‘a duck which is lame’ or ‘a blanket which is wet’ etc., but ‘a person or business which needs help’ (= lame duck), ‘something that is completely useless although it might have cost a lot of money’ (= white elephant), ‘a person who spoils the joy of others’ (= wet blanket) and ‘intelligence or brain’ (= grey matter). Note that there are “bound to be overlaps between the categories” (Moon 1997: 48) and that phraseology has to be seen as “clines of lexical relations” (Gabrovšek 2003, 185) rather than fixed categories. . Contrastivity – on adjective-noun collocations and their translations Contrasting two languages is like dealing with two sides of a coin; on the one side, you decode (= comprehend) a foreign written or spoken text, while on the other side, you encode (= produce) such a text. And it is particularly in the encoding process, whether e.g. from English into German or vice versa, that problems can arise. Collocations are accepted passwords to a native-like fluency in a language (Cop 1991, 2776) and it is, therefore, crucial to take this knowledge of typically co-occurring words into account rather than substituting individual words when rendering collocations in another language, thus encoding (Baker 1992, 53). Consider, for example, the German haushoher Favorit. The literal translation into English would be house-high favourite – a combination which might well be understood by the English native speaker, but that could likewise cause laughter since, in English, the person who is most likely to win in a competition is either the odds-on or the red-hot favourite. It is interesting to note, though, that both haushoch and red-hot are adjectival compounds in which the base adjective is intensified: haushoch is not only high but ‘as high as a house’ and red-hot is not only hot, but, by analogy to red-glowing iron, ‘so hot that it glows red’ – but going into detail concerning semantic images would carry us too far. The collocational error in this example is due to L1 interference when the speaker, in the encoding process, directly translates an L1 collocation word-by-word into the L2 (Gabrovšek 1998, 127). Likewise, when encoding from English into German, a dry voice, when literally translated, would be trockene Stimme, ‘a voice which is not wet’, while the correct German collocation would be kalte Stimme, literally ‘cold voice’. On the other hand, we can also find English and German collocations which are direct translation equivalents of each other, like starless night and sternlose Nacht or heavy scent and schwerer Duft. 3.1 Predictable and lexically congruent collocations Direct translation equivalents account for the fact that, although the collocational ranges of L1 and L2 items might differ, there are certain overlaps to be found which result in the easiest-to-encode or easiest-to-decode category of interlingual collocations: predictable and lexically congruent collocations (cf. Heliel 1990, 131). Predictability, in the light of a contrastive analysis, means that two collocations are semantically predictable, as are wet nappy and nasse Windel. Moreover, these bilingual collocations show lexical congruence since they exhibit the same structure (cf. Gabrovšek 1998, 129). 3.2 Unpredictable and lexically congruent collocations Examples for unpredictable, yet lexically congruent collocations in English and German include barefaced lie and faustdicke Lüge (‘a lie as thick as a fist’) or heavy smoker and starker Raucher (‘strong smoker’). Note that the unpredictable element in adjective-noun collocations is almost exclusively the adjective. 3.3 Predictable and lexically non-congruent collocations The third contrastive category of collocations is predictable but lexically non-congruent ones, like the English collocation main entrance which is rendered into German by Haupteingang. Both parts of the German compound are predictable (main = haupt and entrance = Eingang), yet Haupteingang is a single-word item, an endocentric compound, while its English equivalent is a collocation. 3.4 Unpredictable and lexically non-congruent collocations Unpredictable and lexically non-congruent collocations are a class which needs special attention in the contrastive light. According to Bahns (1997, 108), there is no such thing as non-equivalence since these collocations would fall under the category of idioms. Is it as easy as that? The English collocation fitted carpet has an unpredictable and lexically non-congruent counterpart in German, Teppichboden (‘carpet floor’); however, there is no trace whatsoever of idiomaticity. Likewise, there is the German collocation blinder Passagier, which has to be translated into English as stowaway, a compound which is totally unpredictable and lexically non-congruent. Taking a closer look at blinder Passagier, we shall certainly find that the combination refers to a type of passenger – though semantically transparent, does blind in this combination really mean that the passenger is blind? In German, someone is a blinder Passagier, when they ‘hide and travel without a ticket, especially on a ship or in a plane’. The meaning of blind in this combination is so restricted that it can only occur in the combination with Passagier and is thus figuratively used for hidden – a meaning which it would never have when regarded in isolation1. Additionally, the English stowaway is an exocentric compound; it is also idiomatic since its meaning cannot be derived from the denotative meaning of its constituent parts. Note that contrastive studies of English and German compounding could fill libraries and they will not be dealt with in detail in this paper. It seems as if some collocations, i.e. collocational meanings, are more restricted than others: while heavy in heavy rain is semantically tailored to the noun (Allerton 1984), i.e. “trimmed” from all the denotative meanings heavy might have (Gabrovšek, private communication), blind in blinder Passagier is figuratively used, having this particular meaning only in combination with Passagier. This finding suggests the need for a further sub-classification of the term collocation for the contrastive analysis of English and German adjective-noun collocations.  note that, in german, blind is an archaic use of hidden, though. 3.5 Open collocations vs. restricted collocations / semi-idioms Cowie et al. (1983) propose a distinction between open collocations and restricted collocations, where the latter are characterised by the “literal sense” of one of their constituents, while the other one is “figurative” – a criterion that applies perfectly to blinder Passagier. Restricted collocations are also called semi-idioms. This lends further support to the notion of clines of lexical relations (cf. 3.) where one cannot say that a given combination “is either a collocation or an idiom” but rather “more idiomatic or less idiomatic”. The obvious thing to do, in contrastive terms, would be to say that restricted collocations, like blinder Passagier, are indeed idiomatic, and non-equivalence, i.e. unpredictability and lexical non-congruence, is proof of this since it is primarily in idioms that the structural and semantic images are different in the bilingual framework because they are language-specific (Gabrovšek 1998, 127), e.g. once in a blue moon (from blue moon – which is the second full moon within a month, a phenomenon which is rather seldom to be observed) vs. alle Jubeljahre einmal (a Jubeljahr is a special year in the Catholic Church which recurs every 25 years and in which sinners are shown indulgence). Then again, take naked eye, for example, where naked meaning ‘without optical devices’ is restricted to this combination. According to the hypothesis stated above, there can only be non-equivalence in contrastive terms. However, the German translation, freies Auge, is lexically congruent with its English equivalent; it is, moreover, partially semantically predictable since eye is a direct translation equivalent of Auge. Only the adjectives are unpredictable since frei and naked is not a translation pair which would spring readily to mind, as would free for frei and nackt for naked. The same holds true for (in) broad daylight; it is idiomatic in the sense that broad as an intensifier is only used in this combination (Gabrovšek, private communication). The German equivalent is (am) hellichten Tage. We could not possibly equate broad with hellichten (which is, above all, actually only used in that combination, i.e. it does not exist otherwise) – while it is also an intensifier, nor can we translate daylight with Tag (‘day’); still, structural congruence is there. Unfortunately, dry wine is also restricted in the sense that dry, as in ‘not sweet’, is idiomatic. But it is 100% predictable and lexically congruent in German: trockener Wein. Summing up, adjective-noun collocations, in contrastive terms, are far from easy to handle; there are really no easy-to-find-rules or classifications concerning translational patterns. 3.6 Collocational errors While predictable and lexically congruent collocations would seem to be the least problematic ones, one could not say that, generally speaking, predictable and lexically non-congruent collocations are easier to deal with than are unpredictable and lexically congruent collocations, restricted or not – for English and German at least, since many collocational problems can only be identified for a specific language pair (Gabrovšek 1998, 112). The German collocation, akademische Viertelstunde, for example, can be directly translated into French as quart d’heure académique. There is, however, no English equivalent of it and one can only convey this meaning by an explanatory gloss such as ‘the standard 15-minute delay in beginning university lectures’ (Gabrovšek 2003, 189). This lexical gap can be referred to as collocational mismatch (Gabrovšek, private communication). Another such example is the more idiomatic English collocation dry country – ‘a country where alcohol is prohibited’. For both French and German there is a mismatch in this case, so that we have to render the collocation as an explanatory post-modified noun phrase, i.e. une region ou l’alcool est prohibé and ein Land, in dem Alkohol verboten ist. Finally, false friendship is also a recurrent problem in dealing with collocations in the contrastive framework. False friendship is due to L1 interference and occurs when there is a pseudo-direct equivalent in the L2. Directly translating the German trockenes Land into English would result in dry country. While this collocation exists in English, as we have just seen, it does not denote an ‘arid region’ – as the German collocation does. 4. Implications and conclusion False friendship and other collocational errors can be explained by the hypothesis of transferability (Bahns 1993, 61): Quite in contrast to what they do as regards idiomatic phrases, speakers generally seem to rely on a one-to-one equivalence of collocations in the interlingual light and it is precisely this hypothesis of transferability which underscores the need for bilingual collocation dictionaries which will help the user master restrictions on collocability of lexical items (Gabrovšek 1998, 120) as well as show them typical combinations – something which non-native speakers cannot, by any means, be aware of and which can definitely not be explained by any rule, as this paper tried to show. Bibliography Allerton, D.J. 1984. Three (or Four) Levels of Word Cooccurrence Restriction. Lingua 63: 17–40. [North-Holland] Bahns, J. 1993. Lexical Collocations – A Contrastive View. ELT Journal 47/1 (January): 56–63. Bahns, J. 1997. Kollokationen und Wortschatzarbeit im Englischunterricht. Tübingen: Gunter Narr Verlag. Baker, M. 1992. In Other Words – A Coursebook on Translation. London and New York: Routledge. Biber, D., S. Johansson, G. Leech, S. Conrad, and E. Finegan. 1999. Longman Grammar of Spoken and Written English. Harlow, Essex: Pearson Education Limited. Bolinger, D., and D. Sears. 1981. Aspects of Language. 3rd edn. New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich. COBUILD on CD-ROM. 2001. Cop, M. 1991. Collocations in the Bilingual Dictionary. In Wörterbücher (3 vols.), ed. F.J. Hausmann, O. Reichmann, H.E. Wiegand, and L. Zgusta (1989-91), vol. 3, 2775–8. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter. Cowie, A.P., R. Mackin, and I.R. McCaig. 1983. Oxford Dictionary of Idiomatic English. Volume 2: Phrase, Clause and Sentence Idioms. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Cowie, A.P., ed. 1998. Phraseology – Theory, Analysis, and Applications. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Deuter, M., J. Greenan, J. Noble, and J. Phillips, eds. 2002. Oxford Collocations Dictionary for Students of English. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Eisenberg, P., H. Gelhaus, H. Henne, H. Sitta, and H. Wellmann. 1998. Duden – Grammatik der Deutschen Gegenwartssprache. Vol 4. Rev. [6th] edn. Mannheim, etc.: Dudenverlag. Gabrovšek, D. 1998. Coping with Stubborn Stains and Persistent Headaches – For What It’s Worth: Word Combinability in Action. Vestnik DTJK 32, no. 1–2: 111–54. – – –. 2003. On the Concept of Cline in English Phraseology. Vestnik DTJK 37, no. 1–2: 185–93. Hanks, P. 1988. Typicality and Meaning Potentials. In ZüriLEX ’86 Proceedings, ed. M. Snell-Hornby, 37–47. Tübingen: A. Francke. Heliel, M.H. 1990. Lexical Collocations and Translation. In Translation and Meaning, Part 1. Proceedings of the Maastricht Session of the 1990 Maastricht-Lódz Duo Colloquium on “Translation and Meaning”, ed. M. Thelen and B. Lewandowski-Tomaszczyk, 129–39. Maastricht: Euroterm. Longman Dictionary of the English Language on CD-ROM. 1991 [Penguin Hutchinson Reference Suite]. Moon, R. 1997.Vocabulary Connections: Multi-Word Items in English. In Vocabulary: Description, Acquisition and Pedagogy, ed. N. Schmitt and M.J. McCarthy, 40–63. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. – – –.1998. Fixed Expressions and Idioms in English: A Corpus-Based Approach. Oxford Studies in Lexicography and Lexicology. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Rundell, M., ed. 2002. Macmillan English Dictionary for Advanced Learners. Oxford: Macmillan Education. Scholze-Stubenrecht, W. [project leader], and Dudenredaktion, eds. 1999. DUDEN- Das große Wörterbuch der deutschen Sprache in 10 Bänden. 3rd rev. edn. Mannheim, etc.: Dudenverlag. Sinclair, J. 1984. “Naturalness in Language“. In Corpus Linguistics, eds. J.M.G. Aarts and W.J. Meijs, 203–10. Costerus, New Series, vol. 45. Amsterdam: Editions Rodopi. Sinclair, J., ed. 1987. Collins COBUILD English Language Dictionary. London: HarperCollins Publishers. Sinclair, J. 1991. Corpus, Concordance, Collocation. Describing English Language. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Soanes, C., and A. Stevenson, eds. 2003. Oxford Dictionary of English. 2nd edn. Oxford: Oxford University Press. [Originally {1998} ed. by Judy Pearsall] Summers, D., ed. 2003. Longman Dictionary of Contemporary English. New [4th] edn. Harlow, Essex: Pearson Education Limited. Terrell, P., V. Schnorr, W.V.A. Morris, and R. Breitsprecher, eds. 1999. Collins German-English, English-German Dictionary Unabridged. 4th edn. Glasgow and New York: HarperCollins Publishers. [2001 reprint] The New Oxford American Dictionary on CD-Rom. 2001. Thyen, O., W. Scholze-Stubenrecht, M. Seubel, M. Clark, B. Mohan, R. Sawers, G. Prowe, N. Morris, and R. Morris, eds. 1999. Duden Oxford Großwörterbuch Englisch: Deutsch-Englisch, Englisch-Deutsch. 2nd rev. edn. Mannheim etc.: Dudenverlag and Oxford: Oxford University Press. Wermke, M., A. Klosa, K. Kunkel-Razum, and W. Scholze-Stubenrecht, eds. 2001. Duden – Das Stilwörterbuch. Der Duden in 12 Bänden: Das Standardwerk zur Deutschen Sprache, vol. 2. Rev. [8th] edn. Mannheim, etc.: Dudenverlag. Nataša Milivojević university of novi Sad Faculty of Philosophy, Department of english Particles and Prefixes in English and Serbian Summary The paper attempts to, by means of contrastive analysis, prove that particles belonging to phrasal verbs in English are in their linguistic essence equivalent to Serbian perfective verbal prefixes. This hypothesis has been backed up by a brief study based on 40 translation equivalents, which has shown that phrasal verb particles in English and perfective prefixes in Serbian are both markers of telic aktionsart on the lexical level of the verb. Also, the particles and the prefixes alike affect the ‘aspectual use’ of verbs in their respective languages: while the particles in English do not block their use with the progressive, the prefixes in Serbian block their use with imperfective aspect. Both semantically and grammatically, the appropriate solution for translating the English progressive of phrasal verbs into Serbian is modal aorist of Serbian perfective verbs. On the lexical and grammatical level alike, Serbian and English seem to have a convergent relationship, hence there exists a contrast between Serbian and English; the analyzed language elements are also similar with respect to distribution and equivalent with respect to meaning. Key words: contrastive analysis, aspect, aktionsart, telicity, modal aorist Členice in predpone v angleškem in srbskem jeziku Povzetek Članek, poskuša dokazati, da so v angleškem jeziku v svoji jezikovni osnovi členice v fraznih glagolih enakovredne dovršnim glagolskim predponam v srbskem jeziku. To hipotezo podpira študija, ki temelji na analizi 40 prevodnih ustreznic, in ki je dokazala, da so na leksikalni ravnini glagola tako členice v angleških fraznih glagolih kakor tudi dovršne predpone v srbskem jeziku označevalke teličnega aktionsarta. Tako členice kot tudi predpone vplivajo na “vidsko rabo” glagolov v enem in drugem jeziku: medtem ko v angleščini členice ne preprečujejo rabe glagolov v opisnih oblikah (angl. progressive forms), pa v srbskem jeziku predpone preprečujejo rabo glagolov v nedovršnem glagolskem vidu. Tako s semantičnega kot slovničnega vidika se angleške opisne oblike fraznih glagolov najbolj ustrezno prevajajo v srbski jezik z modalnim aoristom srbskih dovršnih glagolov. Kaže, da sta angleški in srbski jezik na leksikalni in slovnični ravnini v konvergentnem odnosu in zato različna. Analizirani jezikovni elementi so si s stališča distribucije podobni in ustrezni po pomenu. Ključne besede: kontrastivna analiza, glagolski vid, aktionsart, teličnost, modalni aorist Particles and Prefixes in English and Serbian 1. Introduction The discussion of the semantic and syntactic nature of phrasal verbs in English has been a prominent one in both traditional and more recent research concerning verbal typologies and aspect studies in English. This issue has troubled various language philosophers and linguists, yet to this day many of the questions posited remain only partially answered. Part of the problem lies in the fact that the approach to the very term PHRASAL VERB is not a uniform one. Moreover, a closely related issue of ASPECT has not yet been defined as a universal category. Instead, it is treated as a grammatical phenomenon which is language specific and in that respect internally variably consistent and systematic (cf. Anastasijević 1968; Bauer 1991; Benson 1989; Bolinger 1971; Brinton 1988; Comrie 1976; Palmer 1988; Riđanović 1976). The aim of this paper is to provide a contrastive analysis of two potentially related phenomena belonging to two different languages: English and Serbian. The analysis presented attempts at checking the hypothesis which suggests that particles belonging to English phrasal verbs are in their linguistic essence equivalent to Serbian perfective verbal prefixes. A brief study was hence conducted, based on forty different English phrasal verbs and their Serbian translation equivalents. The verbs were chosen according to their particles, which are termed as the most representative either in terms of aspect / aktionsart marking (cf. Brinton 1985; Bolinger 1971; Palmer 1988), or in terms of their frequent occurrence in English ‘verb plus particle’ combinations (cf. Anastasijević 1968). 2. Relevant research Grammarians have been concerned primarily with grammatical category of aspect, whereas philosophers of language and semanticists have been interested in verb semantics – typologies of AKTIONSART. Traditionally, aspect is one of the verb categories in English, and it is linked with the notion of completion. However, the aspectual meaning of particles such as up, down, off, out, or away is (as will be shown below) better understood as an aktionsart meaning, namely, that of expressing the goal or endpoint of a situation. Slavic languages have well-developed formal markers of aspect. In Russian, the distinction between perfective and imperfective aspect is marked by derivational morphology, whereas aktionsart is a matter of inherent verbal meaning. This means that while ‘aspect’ is without any doubt a grammatical category ‘aktionsart’ is of a primarily lexical or semantic nature. The perfective prefix added to verbs in Serbian has both grammatical and lexical function. Grammatically, it marks perfective aspect, and lexically it creates a new verb from the simple, unprefixed verb form. Most Slavic languages (Serbian included) have formally neatly marked aspectual systems, where there are pairs of perfective and imperfective verbs, differentiated only by the prefix. For example: piti – popiti ići – otići tražiti – potražiti pevati – otpevati jesti – pojesti (Stanojčić-Popović 1994, 56) Aspect is a grammatical verbal category in Serbian; it denotes completeness of an action or state denoted by the verb. In terms of aspect, there are basically three verb groups in Serbian: 1) Imperfective (incomplete) such as ‘kuckati’, ‘sumnjati’, ‘jesti’, which are further classified into durative and iterative 2) Perfective (complete) such as ‘doći’, ‘upitati se’, ‘iskoristiti’, ‘potražiti’ which are further classified into a) ingressive b) effective c) terminative d) indefinitely complete 3) A class of verbs which can be either perfective or imperfective, depending on the context, such as ‘čuti’, ‘videti’, ‘ručati’ and so on. Both aspects are denoted by the same lexeme. (Stanojčić-Popović,1994, 97–8) In many cases however, the specific meaning of a perfective verb is determined by the prefix: ‘zaigrati’ = ‘to start dancing’, ‘progovoriti’ = ‘to start talking’, ‘doraditi’ = ‘to finish working’ (cf. Stanojčić-Popović 1994, 374–97). Therefore, it can be concluded that prefixes often determine both the perfective type and one of its subtypes of a verb they are added to. Verbal aspect in Serbian is in most cases related to the lexical base of the verb (that is why there are perfective-imperfective pairs). In this respect, Serbian is similar to Russian. Yet verbs with dual aspect mark both grammatical aspects by the same verb lexeme, which makes Serbian more similar to some non-Slavic languages, such as French, German or English. This also means that, on the lexical level at least, prefixes in Serbian function as aktionsart markers as well. Namely, the prefix determines whether the action denoted by the verb has a clearly marked starting or ending point (e.g. ‘zapisati’, ‘doorati’), whether it is repetitive and so on. The prefix therefore, if added to the base verb may (and most often does) alter its semantics. In English, phrasal verbs can freely occur with verbal periphrases which focus on the beginning, middle, and ending phases of a given situation. They are also compatible with the imperfective (progressive), perfective (simple past), and perfect aspects. All of this, according to Laurel Brinton (1988, 168–9), suggests that verbal particles in English do NOT mark perfective aspect, as was traditionally assumed. The particles actually, typically express a telic notion, which means that they can add the concept of a goal or an endpoint to durative situations which otherwise may not necessarily have a defined endpoint. An atelic imperfective implies its perfective, but a telic imperfective does not – namely : If one was eating, one has eaten. BUT If one was finishing up (and was interrupted), one has NOT finished up. In other words, the particles may alter aktionsart of the given situation, and are therefore taken to be markers of telic aktionsart rather than perfective aspect. For example, a telic particle will convert an activity into an accomplishment. a) The children are eating up the candy. b) The management decided to close down the plant. c) The lights are fading out. d) You should shut off the electricity. e) Have you thought through the problem? f) We have read over the documents. g) She is throwing away her money. (Brinton 1988, 169) All of the English examples above are given in the progressive form, to once again stress the fact that verbs with particles in English are in fact compatible with the progressive, and that the particle therefore is not a mere marker of perfective aspect. Moreover, Brinton states that particles do not seem to co-occur with state verbs. They may sometimes occur with be or have or some other typically stative verbs, but only if they are used with a non-stative meaning, or when the particles refer to a resultant condition, which is another good reason to use the verbs in progressive here. a) I’ll be right up. b) Please hear me out. c) I had some friends over. (Ibid., 173) From the discussion above, it shall be concluded that there exists at least one important similarity between phrasal verb particles in English and perfective verb prefixes in Serbian: on the lexical level, both mark aktionsart, and are therefore ‘semantic’ or ‘lexical’ rather than ‘grammatical aspectual’ markers. They definitely affect the meaning of the verb they are added to, as well as the ‘internal structure’ of the action denoted by that verb. In what follows we will examine some translation equivalents, both lexical and sentential, in more detail. The lexical pairs were adopted from the relevant bilingual and monolingual dictionaries, whereas the sentential pairs were established by the author of the paper in the course of research. . Progressive aspect and the notion of telicity 3.1 Translation equivalents: the lexical level Both perfective prefixes in Serbian and phrasal verb particles in English form new lexemes when added to the base form of the verb. For example: English: wake (to cease to sleep) – wake up (to become conscious again after being asleep) burn (to cause to undergo combustion) – burn down (to completely destroy by fire) wear (to carry or have on the person as covering) – wear out (to use something so much that it becomes thin or weak and unable to be used) write (to form letters or words on a surface such as paper) – write off (to decide that something is unimportant, useless or unlikely to be successful and that it is not worth further consideration) break (to cause to separate into pieces suddenly and violently) – break away (to stop being part of a group) (Sinclair 1990) Serbian: buditi – probuditi, razbuditi (se) paliti – spaliti, upaliti, zapaliti nositi – iznositi pisati – napisati, ispisati, otpisati lomiti – slomiti, izlomiti, polomiti (Benson 1986; Stanojčić-Popović 1994) In English, these newly formed verbs may be just semantically modified if compared to the original verb or may have a completely new meaning. In either case, particles act as markers of telic aktionsart, assigning either a goal or some kind of an ending point to the action denoted by the verb (‘the viewing of an action as complete’). (Brinton 1988, 52) In Serbian, however, the situation with prefixed verb forms is somewhat different. The prefixes are primarily markers of perfective aspect. Prefixed verb forms are normally not idiomatic; rather, they specify something about the course or the internal structure of an action denoted by the verb: its completeness. Still, the situation is not that simple. There is something in Serbian that closely resembles aktionsart in English: the so called ‘semantic character’ or ‘shape’ (‘značenjski lik’) of the verb (Stanojčić-Popović, 1994, 383–4). Namely, the prefix will determine not only that the action is to be viewed as complete but will have further impact on that completeness. It will depend on the prefix whether the action is ingressive, effective, terminative or indefinitely complete. It seems then, that in Serbian, as well as in English, prefixes do mark a telic situation on the lexical level. Further proof for this claim can be found in the fact that all of the English phrasal verbs which were included in the corpus for this research do in fact have their Serbian prefixed translation equivalents on the lexical level. e.g. look up – pogledati calm down – umiriti call out – dozivati slice off – odseći walk away – otići (Benson 1986) The rest of the verbs are given in the Appendix A. 3.2 Translation equivalents: contrasts of context Moving up from the lexicon towards syntax, the situation becomes progressively more complicated. Once we are in the realm of context, many factors influence translation from one language to another, often with the most surprising outcomes. Let us take a look at the following pairs of sentences. 1. a) English: They have burnt down the house. b) Serbian: Oni su spalili kuću. c) English: His hair has fallen out. d) Serbian: Opala mu je kosa. e) English: He’s sent them away just now. f) Serbian: Upravo ih je poslao. As we can see from the examples in 1(a-f), if we start off with English sentences in the Present Perfect, their translations into Serbian come out as expected: English phrasal verbs are directly translated by Serbian perfective verb forms. Furthermore, the actions expressed by those verbs are well-transferred from the source language into the target language: their meanings are the same. In all cases the actions denoted by the respective verbs are finished, complete. They are also resultative: in 1(a, b) ‘there is no longer a house in that place’; in 1(c,d) ‘the person in question is hairless’ and in 1(e, f) ‘they are on their way, and will soon arrive’. The present perfect in English does in fact denote such actions, and when it also bears the notion of result and/or completeness, it is generally translated by the Serbian past tense (PERFEKAT). Yet if we choose the progressive as a starting point in English, the situation changes significantly. It was already pointed out that phrasal verb particles in English ARE compatible with the progressive. Also, English phrasal verb particles mark telic situations. Therefore, it is possible to say in English: 2. a) They are burning down the house. However, a possible Serbian translation of the sentence in 2a would be b) Oni spaljuju kuću and not as we would expect c) *Oni spale kuću. One reason for this lies in the fact that Serbian prefixed verbs do not have the ability to denote real present in Serbian; they can only denote ‘historic present’ (as a narrative tense). However, it was already established that, on the lexical, level both English particles and Serbian prefixes mark telic situations in terms of aktionsart – in terms of aspect it seems that English allows telic particles with progressive aspect, but Serbian does not allow ‘telic prefixes’ with imperfective aspect. Still, this does not complete the analysis. Let us look at the following Serbian verb triples: paliti – spaliti – spaljivati pevati – raspevati – raspevavati tražiti – istražiti – istraživati pisati – ispisati – ispisivati zvati – dozvati – dozivati (Stanojčić-Popović 1994, 58) Namely,apartfromtheabilityto(withthebiggestnumberofverbs)formperfective-imperfective pairs, Serbian also has a possible third member which can be adjoined to these pairs. These are verbs which are not truly perfective, but bear the notion of ‘secondary perfectivity’. These verbs are also prefixed, but the actions they denote are essentially continuing or iterative, rather than COMPLETED. Their telicity, is therefore highly context dependent, and is usually made explicit by a nominal object. Also, the goal appears to be broken into phases of achieving/ completing. These verbs can and do denote present actions in Serbian, but not all Serbian verbs are capable of forming these triples. buditi – probuditi – *probuđivati jesti – pojesti – *pojedati cediti – iscediti – *isceđivati nervirati – iznervirati – *iznerviravati (Stanojčić-Popović 1994, 60) For this reason, the translational solution which involves secondary perfectivity (as it is proposed in the Serbian example 2b above) will not be adopted as the most plausible final proposal. Let us now turn to the following: 3. a) They are burning down the house. b) Oni spališe kucu. c) Heis eating up all the food in the house. d) On pojede svu hranu iz kuće. e) They are wringing out the wet cloths. f) Oni iscediše mokre stolnjake. g) This one is killing all the germs off. h) Ovo uništi sve bacile. i) They are driving away with the cargo. j) Odvezoše se sa teretom. The English examples in 3 (a-i) were chosen (cf. Brinton 1985, 27) to be representative of the whole corpus consisting of 40 phrasal verbs analyzed (Appendix A) – all five relevant particles are there. In Serbian translations 3 (b-j), the expected prefixed perfective verbs are present. However, Serbian sentences contain no present verb forms in terms of tense; the tense used here is called MODAL AORIST in Serbian. AORIST in Serbian is a rather archaic tense and is often replaced, in spoken language especially, with past tense verb forms. It is meant to generally denote an action which was completed closely prior to the moment of speaking (similar to English Present Perfect), or at the moment of speaking. For example: a) Serbian: Sad je baš sretoh na stepenicama. English: I have just met her on the stairs. b) Serbian: Evo, prođoše pored prozora vaši drugovi. English: Your friends have just passed by the window. c) Serbian: Do ovog časa čitah ovi zanimljivu knjigu. English: I have just stopped reading this intriguing book. MODAL AORIST is somewhat different: it denotes the attitude of the speaker towards an action which is still not completed. It has three basic attitude notions: a) confidence that the action will be completed Serbian: Bežite izgibosmo! English: We are going to die! b) intention to complete the action Serbian: Ja odoh u školu. English: I’m off to school. c) ‘attitude of condition’ Serbian: Ako pođoh, nagledah se jada, ak’ ne pođoh, neću vidjet drage. (Stanojčić-Popović 1994, 384) English: Should I leave, I will suffer, should I stay, I will not see my darling. In most cases, these kinds of use of MODAL AORIST are compatible with the adverbial ‘sad’ (English ‘now’). Looking back at the examples in 3, it seems that those Serbian translation equivalents are acceptable. What is more, although AORIST is almost obsolete in Serbian, MODAL AORIST is still actively used, especially with the meaning which seems to be the one needed here. Namely 3a,b views the action of ‘burning down’ which has not yet been completed as complete – the sentence does in fact show that somebody has started an action with the intention to finish it – yet the action is in progress, therefore not finished at the moment of speaking. This matches the use of MODAL AORIST presented in attitude notion b: ‘intention to complete the action’. The examples in 3g,h, on the other hand, seem more like attitude notion a: ‘confidence that the action will be completed’, since ‘this’ in 3g,h probably refers to something non-human, so there is no possibility of intention of the agent, only confidence on the part of the speaker. What can be concluded from the discussion above is that although telic particles do not block progressiveaspectinEnglish,SerbianperfectiveprefixesblockSerbianimperfectiveaspect.However, itispossibletotranslateEnglishprogressivewithSerbian MODALAORISTwithbasicallynochange in meaning. It is important to point out that all of the English sentences in FILTER (Appendix B) can be translated with MODAL AORIST of Serbian prefixed perfective verbs, but not all of them can be translated with the present tense of secondary perfective prefixed verbs. 3.3 Translation equivalents: more about the particle meanings The semantic mechanism which shifts literal meanings of phrasal verbs into semi-transparent or completely idiomatic meanings is an issue which has not yet been settled. Nevertheless, linguists do agree in the conclusion that such shifts exist, and that the boundaries between these shades or levels of meanings are not clear-cut. The corpus of phrasal verbs used in this study is not vast enough for drawing final conclusions, yet the hypothesis is that particles are crucial in these shifts. The way the particle semantically modifies the base verb is probably the key to these semantic patterns. How (if in any way) the possible explanation might affect Serbian translations remains a question for further research. 4. Conclusion This paper attempted to prove that phrasal verbs in English are linguistically equivalent to perfective verbs in Serbian. Both phrasal verb particles in English and perfective prefixes in Serbian are markers of telic aktionsart on the lexical level of the verb. Furthermore, the particles and the prefixes alike affect ‘aspectual use’ of verbs in their respective languages: while the particles in English do not block their use with the progressive, the prefixes in Serbian block their use with imperfective aspect. It was also shown that both semantically and grammatically, the most adequate way of translating the English progressive of phrasal verbs into Serbian is by MODAL AORIST of Serbian perfective verbs. Such translation equivalents are equal in meaning. The question posed for further research is whether literal – non literal meanings of particles belonging to phrasal verbs in English can explain general shifts from literal to idiomatic meanings of phrasal verbs as a whole, and further, whether such an explanation would somehow alter this proposal for the way of translating English phrasal verbs into Serbian. Bibliography Anastasijević, K. 1968. Dvočlani glagol u savremenom engleskom jeziku. Beograd: Filološki Fakultet Beogradskog Univerziteta. Benson, M. 1986. Englesko - srpskohrvatski rečnik. Beograd: Prosveta. Benson, M. 1989. The Structure of the Collocational Dictionary. International Journal of Lexicography 1, no. 2: 1–14. Bauer, L. 1991. English Word-Formation. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Bolinger, D. 1971. The Phrasal Verb in English. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press. Brinton, L.J. 1985. Verb Particles in English: Aspect or Aktionsart? Studia Linguistica 39: 157–68. – – –. 1988. The Development of English Aspectul Systems. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Comrie, B. 1976. Aspect: an Introduction to the Study of Verbal Aspect and Related Problems. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Palmer, F.R. 1988. The English Verb. Harlow, Essex: Longman Riđanović, M. 1976. A Synchronic Study of Verbal Aspect in English and Serbocroatian. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Slavica Publishers. Sinclair, J., ed.1990. Collins Cobuild Dictionary of Phrasal Verbs. Glasgow: Collins Publishers. Stanojčić, Ž., and Lj. Popović. 1994. Gramatika srpskoga jezika. Beograd: Zavod za udžbenike i nastavna sredstva. Appendix A CORPUS (40 phrasal verbs with frequent particles: UP, DOWN, OUT, OFF, AWAY) UP 1. wake up – probuditi (se) 2. roll up – podvrnuti, zavrnuti 3. eat up – pojesti 4. pick up – podići, ‘pokupiti’ 5. grow up – odrasti 6. hold up – podići, izdržati 7. look up – pogledati, potražiti 8. speed up – ubrzati 9. make up – izmisliti 10. clean up – počistiti DOWN 11. burn down – spaliti 12. calm down – smiriti, umiriti 13. turn down – odbiti 14. come down – sleteti (avion) 15. tone down – ublažiti 16. write down – zapisati OUT 17. call out – dozivati 18. wring out – ocediti, iznuditi (informacije) 19. put out – ugasiti (vatru) 20. wear out – iznositi 21. die out – nestati 22. spell out – objasniti 23. print out – odštampati 24. fall out – opasti, posvađati se 25. push out – izgurati OFF 26. tick off – označiti, iznervirati 27. shave off – obrijati 28. come off – otpasti 29. slice off – odseći 30. write off – otpisati 31. buy off – potkupiti 32. kill off – uništiti AWAY 33. send away – poslati 34. walk away – otići 35. step away – odstupiti, odmaći (se) 36. put away – odložiti (odeću) 37. write away – otpisati 38. sign away – odustai (potpisom) 39. drive away – odvesti 40. break away – odvojiti (se) (Serbian translations taken from Benson 1986) Appendix B FILTER (40 English phrasal verbs used in the progressive) UP 1. He is waking up way too soon! 2. They are rolling up their sleeves – they’re definitely getting started. 3. He is eating up all the food in the house. 4. It’s 12.00 o’clock already. Who is picking them up from school? 5. All of them are growing up in safety. 6. How are you holding up? / The students are holding up their hands. 7. He is just looking up the requested information. 8. They are speeding up the rail service. 9. My younger sister is making it all up! 10. They are cleaning up after last night. DOWN 11. They are burning down the house. 12. She is calming down her young son with some candy. 13. Why are you turning down my proposal? 14. The plane is coming down as we speak. / I think I’m coming down with something. 15. She is toning down some of the brighter shades. 16. Why are you not writing this down? OUT 17. Who is calling out his name? 18. They are wringing out the wet cloths. / They are wringing the information out of him in the interrogation room. 19. They are putting out the fire. 20. My shoes are wearing out. 21. Those little shops are dying out. 22. The teacher is spelling out the exam instructions to a class of students. 23. They are printing out the hard copy of it. 24. His hair is falling out. 25. The workers are pushing out all of the old furniture. OFF 26. I’m ticking off the sentences as I read each one. / You are ticking me off with that attitude of yours. 27. He is shaving his beard off. 28. A huge piece of it is coming off as we speak. 29. She is slicing off a big piece of cake for him. 30. He is writing all of that off. 31. He is buying off the police officer in charge. 32. This one is killing all the germs off. AWAY 33. She is sending them away right now. 34. They are walking away into the field. 35. He is stepping away from the desk. 36. He is putting his clothes away. 37. She is writing away to the company, sending them more details. 38. He is signing away his right to inherit that land. 39. They are driving away with the cargo. 40. She is breaking away from the group of girls. Hortensia Pârlog university of timişoara Department of english The Semantics of Heart: Translation Problems Summary Words hardly ever occur on their own, because they can hardly mean anything on their own; when asked about the meaning of an isolated word, in order to figure it out, what one does is try to place it in a context or use it in a collocation. The verbal contexts in which words appear influence or at least clarify their semantic value; it is because of contextual factors that a word may have more than one meaning. Therefore, the analysis above word level is extremely important. An analysis of translational decisions may also prove to be a valuable source of information in establishing the semantics of a lexical item. The above statements are illustrated by discussing the semantics of heart. The word occurs in a great number of structures in both English and Romanian, of which eight will be analysed: heart + verb; verb + heart; heart + of phrase; adjective + heart; heart + head noun; head noun + of heart; adjective + preposition + heart; heart in sayings or fixed expressions. Key words: translation, equivalence, structure (collocation), meaning Semantika besede heart: težave pri prevajanju Povzetek Besede redko nastopajo samostojno, ker same po sebi komaj kaj pomenijo. Kadar nas nekdo vpraša po pomenu posamezne besede, jo običajno poskušamo postaviti v sobesedilo oziroma jo uporabimo v kolokaciji. Sobesedila, v katerih se besede uporabljajo, pojasnjujejo ali vplivajo na njihovo semantično vrednost. Prav zaradi dejavnikov sobesedila ima beseda lahko več kot en pomen.Tako je analiza nad besednim nivojem izredno pomembna. Analiza prevodnih odločitev je lahko pomemben vir informacij pri ugotavljanju semantike posamezne leksikalne enote. Diskusija o semantiki besede heart bo poskušala potrditi zgornje trditve. Tako v angleščini kot romunščini se beseda pojavlja v mnogih strukturah, od katerih jih bomo analizirali osem: heart + glagol; glagol + heart; heart + predložna of zveza; pridevnik + heart; heart + samostalnik; samostalnik + of heart; pridevnik + predlog + heart; heart v pregovorih in stalnih zvezah. Ključne besede: prevajanje, enakovrednost, struktura (kolokacija), pomen The Semantics of Heart: Translation Problems 1. Introduction In the past fifty years or so, translation scholars have elaborated a lot of different theories on the concept of equivalence, but a universally accepted approach to the notion is still lacking. More than a decade ago, Baker (1992) analyzed the notion of equivalence at different levels, in relation to the translation process, including all different aspects of translation and putting together the linguistic and the communicative approach. She discussed equivalence at word level and above word level, grammatical equivalence, textual and pragmatic equivalence. Words hardly ever occur on their own, because they can hardly mean anything on their own; when one is asked to give the meaning of an isolated word, one usually tries to place it in a context in order to figure it out. It can, therefore, be assumed that the contexts in which words appear may influence or at least clarify their semantic value, that it is because of contextual factors that a word may have more than one meaning, and that, consequently, the analysis above word level is extremely important. The analysis of translation decisions may also prove to be a valuable source of information in establishing the semantics of the lexical items that combine and form a structure. 2. The semantics of heart I shall illustrate the above statements by discussing the semantics of heart. The word occurs in a great number of structures (collocations, idioms or set expressions) in both English and Romanian, which are often analysable as metaphors or metonymies. The word “structure” is preferred here, because drawing a clear, undisputed line of demarcation between collocations, idioms and set expressions has proved to be difficult and a discussion of these terms is beyond the scope of the present paper. Eight such structures containing the word heart are analysed in what follows, starting from English as the base language: heart + verb, verb + heart, heart + of phrase, adjective + heart, heart + head noun, head noun + of heart, adjective + preposition + heart, and set expressions or idiomatic phrases containing the word heart. 2.1 Heart as an organ in one’s chest can be found in four of these structures: heart + verb, adjective + heart, heart + head noun, and head noun + of heart. With one or two exceptions, in all these cases, its Romanian equivalent is inimă (< Lat. anima). 2.1.1 Heart + verb: e.g., one’s heart beats/ inima bate, ticăie; one’s heart stops/ inima stă, se opreşte; inima încetează să mai bată. 2.1.2 Adjective + heart has the equivalent inimă + adjective in Romanian. The word order differs in the two languages, because, with few exceptions, the usual, neutral position of the modifier in the Romanian noun phrase is after the head noun, just as the neutral position of the English modifer is before the head noun: e.g., o idee interesantă = an interesting idea. For example, good, healthy, strong heart / inimă bună, sănătoasă; bad, weak heart / inimă slabă, bolnavă; artificial heart / inimă artificială. Sometimes the English adjective may turn into a Romanian prepositional noun phrase (PNP): e.g., human heart / inimă de om. 2.1.3 The heart + head noun structure refers mostly to conditions of the heart, being rather frequent in the medical discourse. In the Romanian equivalent structure, inimă alternates sometimes with another word of Latin origin, cord (< cor), or an adjective derived from it, cardiac, felt to be more scientific terms: e.g., heart attack, failure / atac de inimă, de cord; heart disease, complaint, condition, trouble / boală de inimă; heart beat / bătaie de inimă, a inimii; heart operation, surgery / operaţie de inimă, pe cord, intervenţie cardiacă; chirurgie cardiacă; heart transplant / transplant de inimă; heart murmur / murmur cardiac. As one can see, in the Romanian translation of these word combinations, the equivalent of the English pre-modifier, heart, becomes a post-modifier, usually expressed by a PNP (the preposition being de, as a rule) or occasionally by a NP in the genitive case (a inimii). The adjective cardiac may also be found in synonymous English collocations (cardiac murmur, cardiac disease). 2.1.4 The structure head noun + of + the heart is formally similar to its Romanian equivalent head noun + de + inimă: e.g., disease, condition of the heart / boală de inimă (for which Romanian also has the more elevated/ scientific alternative afecţiune cardiacă). 2.2 The word heart may be used metaphorically as the seat of feelings and emotions in general or of specific feelings (love, fondness, happiness, sadness, pity, unkindness, fear, etc.). In English, this meaning occurs in six of the eight structures studied: heart + verb, verb + heart, head noun + of heart, adjective + preposition + heart, adjective + heart and in idiomatic phrases. 2.2.1 Examples of structures that refer to feelings in general are pour out/ bare/ open/ uncover/ unlock one’s heart / a-şi deschide inima, sufletul [“open one’s soul”]; a-şi uşura, descărca inima, sufletul [“relieve one’s heart, soul”] (verb + heart); (the) secrets of the heart / secretele inimii (head noun + of the heart); wear one’s heart upon one’s sleeve / a nu-şi ascunde sentimentele [“not hide one’s feelings”], a avea inima deschisă [“have an open heart”] (idiomatic phrase). 2.2.2 The heart + verb structure may suggest feelings of happiness (e.g. one’s heart vibrates / a-i tremura inima de fericire [“one’s heart trembles with happiness”]), sympathy (e.g., one’s heart warms towards sb.; one’s heart goes out to sb. / a compătimi din toată inima/ din suflet pe cineva [“pity sb. with all one’s heart / soul”]), sadness (e.g., one’s heart bleeds for sb. / a-i sângera inima; a i se frânge inima [“one’s heart breaks”]; a i se rupe sufletul [“one’s soul is torn”]; one’s heart aches / a-l durea sufletul [“one’s soul aches”]), disappointment, dismay (e.g., one’s heart sinks / a se dezumfla [“to feel deflated”]; a se potoli [“to calm down”]; a i se strânge inima [“one’s heart shrinks”]), excitement, fear or shock (e.g., one’s heart leaps, jumps / a-i tresări inima de emoţie, de frică, de bucurie [“one’s heart is startled by excitement, fear, joy”]). The underlined words are adverbials, which contribute to making the meaning of the English structure clearer in Romanian. 2.2.3 The verb + heart structure may also be used for feelings like happiness (e.g. warm, gladden sb.’s heart / a încălzi inima cuiva, a face fericit [“make happy”]), sympathy, pity (e.g., touch sb.’s heart / a-i fi milă [“to pity”]; a trezi sentimente de milă [“arouse feelings of pity, compassion”]; a mişca, a impresiona [“move, impress”]; a atinge coarda sensibilă [“touch the sensitive chord”; “appeal to the emotions”]), sadness (e.g., e.g. sob, cry, weep one’s heart out/ a-i seca ochii de atâta plâns [“one’s eyes get dry from so much weeping”]; break sb’s heart / a frânge inima cuiva; eat (out), devour one’s heart/ a suferi în tăcere [“suffer silently”]; take to heart / a pune la suflet), but also unkindness (e.g., not have the heart to / a nu avea inima să; harden sb’s heart / a înăspri, a învârtoşa inima cuiva) or love (e.g., steal, capture, win sb.’s heart / a cuceri inima cuiva; lose, give one’s heart (to) / a-şi dărui inima cuiva; a îndrăgi [“take to sb.; take a fancy to sb.”]). 2.2.4 Love or fondness can also be expressed by the structure head noun + of heart (e.g., a union of hearts / căsătorie bazată pe afecţiune, dragoste [“marriage based on affection, love”]; abundance of heart / prisosul inimii). 2.2.5 Adjective + preposition + heart may denote feelings like love or fondness (e.g., close, dear, near to sb.’s heart / drag [“dear to sb.”]; pe gustul cuiva [“to sb.’s taste”]; aproape de sufletul cuiva [“close to sb.’s soul”]), unhappiness and anxiety (e.g., (be) sick at heart / a simţi inima grea, o povară pe suflet [“feel a burden on one’s soul”]). 2.2.6 Sadness may be expressed with the help of adjectival collocations of the type adjective + heart: e.g., broken, heavy, sore heart / inimă grea, tristă, distrusă; deprimat [“depressed”]. 2.2.7 Phrases may also suggest sadness (e.g., have one’s heart in one’s boots / a fi foarte trist, necăjit, deprimat [“be very sad, downcast, depressed”]; eat one’s heart out / a fi foarte trist; a suferi în tăcere [“be very sad”; “suffer in silence”]). 2.3 The word heart may stand for conscience or soul in two of the structural patterns discussed here, which reflects in their translation into Romanian: 2.3.1 Heart + verb: e.g., my heart smote me / simţeam, aveam mustrări de conştiinţă [“I felt, had pangs of conscience”]; 2.3.2 Verb + heart: e.g., search one’s/sb’s heart / a(-şi) cerceta inima, conştiinţa [“search one’s / sb.’s conscience”]; a privi în inima, în sufletul cuiva [“look into someone’s heart/ soul”]; read sb’s heart / a citi în inima, sufletul cuiva. 2.4 Attitudes in general or ways of behaviour such as courage, fear/cowardice, enthusiasm, sincerity, honesty are often associated with heart. 2.4.1 The structures head noun + of heart and adjective + preposition + heart may refer to attitude or behaviour in general: e.g., a change of heart / schimbare de atitudine (usually to a friendlier, more helpful attitude); young at heart / tânăr; comportament tineresc [“youthful behaviour”]. 2.4.2 The meaning of heart may be “courage” in: 2.4.2.1 Heart + verb: e.g., my heart fails me / curajul mă părăseşte [“courage leaves me”]; mi se taie picioarele [“my legs give way”]. 2.4.2.2 Verb + heart: e.g., give heart to sb./ a încuraja,a sprijini pe cineva [“encourage, support sb.”]; have heart / a avea curaj [“have courage”]; keep (up) heart / a nu se pierde cu firea [“not to turn a hair”]; lose heart / a se pierde cu firea, a-şi pierde curajul, a se descuraja [“lose courage, become discouraged”]; pluck up, take heart / a prinde inimă, curaj [“pluck up, take courage”]. 2.4.3 In phrases, heart is often associated with cowardice, fear: e.g., his heart is in/ jumps into his mouth / moare de frică [“he is dying of fright”]; i s-a făcut inima cât un purice [“his heart has become as small as a flea”], i-a sărit inima din loc [“his heart jumped out of place”]; his heart leaps out of his mouth / este speriat de moarte [“he is scared to death”]; l-au băgat în sperieţi [“they frightened him very much”]; have one’s heart in one’s mouth / a fi grozav de speriat [“be very scared”], a muri de frică [“die of fear”]; a nu mai putea de frică [“be terribly frightened”]). 2.4.4 In two of the structures containing the word heart, the word is used to refer to enthusiasm or its absence: 2.4.4.1 Verb + heart: e.g., put heart into sth. / a face ceva cu tragere de inimă, and 2.4.4.2 Phrases: e.g., his heart is not in it / nu e prea entuziasmat; nu e interesat [“he lacks enthusiasm; he is not interested”]. 2.4.5 Sincerity and honesty are suggested by: 2.4.5.1 Head noun + of heart: e.g., the bottom of one’s heart / adâncul inimii cuiva; 2.4.5.2. Verb + heart: e.g. cross one’s heart / a (se) jura; pe cuvânt [“to swear”; “honestly”]; 2.4.5.3 Phrases: e.g., wear one’s heart upon one’s sleeve / a nu avea gânduri ascunse [“to have no hidden thoughts”]; ce-i în guşă, şi-n căpuşă [approx. “speak one’s mind”]. 2.5 Heart may refer to someone’s personality, disposition or character or may stand for a person that has certain traits of character. This is the case of: 2.5.1 Heart + of phrase: e.g., a heart of stone, of flint / inimă de piatră; heart of gold / inimă de aur; 2.5.2 Adjective + heart: e.g., good, kind, loving, soft, tender, warm heart / (persoană) cu inimă bună, caldă, iubitoare; cold, cruel, hard / (persoană cu) inimă rece, rea, împietrită; big, generous heart / persoană mărinimoasă; (om cu) suflet mare, generos; faint heart / (persoană) timid(ă), lipsit(ă) de îndrăzneală; brave, stout, valiant heart / inimă vitează; persoană curajoasă, îndrăzneaţă; false heart / inimă nestatornică, trădătoare, falsă; light, free heart / (persoană cu) inima uşoară, nepăsătoare; 2.5.3 Phrases, such as: his heart is in the right place / are intenţii bune, frumoase [“he has good intentions”]; este un om bun, săritor [“he is a kind, helpful person”]. 2.6 Heart is also used to denote the central, innermost part of something, its main or essential part; this meaning is obvious mainly in the structures: 2.6.1 Heart + of phrase,: e.g., the heart of the city, of the capital, of the forest / inima, centrul oraşului, capitalei, codrului; the heart of the matter, of the subject, of the debate, of the dilemma, of the mystery / miezul problemei, punctul central al problemei, al subiectului, esenţa dezbaterii; the heart of the cabbage, of the vegetable, of a lettuce / inima, miezul, coceanul verzei, miezul legumei, inima salatei; 2.6.2 Verb + heart: e.g., go, get to the heart (of sth.) / a ajunge în miezul, a pătrunde în esenţa a ceva; lie at the heart (of sth.) / a se afla în miezul a ceva. 2.7 Heart may also serve as a form of address in the structure adjective + heart: e.g., dear, sweet heart / scumpul meu, scumpule, scumpo, dragule, draga mea, iubitule, iubito. . Heart equivalents: Comments 3.1 Some of the structures discussed here have both a literal and a figurative meaning or an idiomatic meaning, which is reflected in their translation into Romanian; this is revealed only by the context in which they appear. Thus My heart fails me may refer to the organ that no longer perfoms its function: “nu-mi mai bate inima”, “îmi stă inima” (literal meaning) or it may suggests lack of courage: “curajul mă părăseşte”; similarly, My heart aches may have a literal meaning, “mă doare inima”, and a metaphorical one, suggesting sadness: “mă doare sufletul”, “mi se rupe inima (de durere)”. 3.2 Sometimes the meaning is dictated by the way in which the word heart collocates not only lexically, but also grammatically (an aspect that this paper does not tackle). An example is offered by have heart (zero article; the metaphorical meaning is “courage”); have a heart (indefinite article; the metaphorical meaning changes to “pity”, “kindness”); have a heart for [sth.] (indefinite article, preposition; the metaphorical meaning is “inclination”, “liking”); (not) have the heart to (do sth) (definite article, long infinitive; the metaphorical meaning is “unkindness”). 3.3 Some of the structures can be found in both the source and the target language; they roughly convey the same meaning in the two languages, and consist of equivalent lexical items (possibly with a difference in word order): e.g., the heart beats / inima bate (heart /inimă + verb; the noun denotes the organ); a heart of gold / inimă de aur (heart /inimă + preposition + noun; the structure is used to refer to someone’s disposition, character); healthy heart / inimă sănătoasă ( adjective + heart / inimă + adjective ). It is, however, possible that in spite of structural similarity the meaning of the source language structure is misunderstood in the target language, particularly if it is figurative: e.g. (he is) sick at heart (adjective + preposition + heart; figurative meaning, “he feels great disappointment, fear or grief, i.e. he is unhappy”) does not mean *(el este) bolnav de inimă (adjective + preposition + inimă; literal meaning, “he has heart trouble”). 3.4 Heart is translated as inimă or cord whenever the word denotes the organ. The structures in the two languages may not be identical: thus, the English heart + head noun usually becomes head noun + PNP in Romanian: e.g., heart attack / atac de cord, de inimă). 3.5 The Romanian word inimă has many of the figurative meanings that the English heart does, so the word is often used in the translation of structures that have such meanings. However, it is also possible that, even in the case of structural and semantic similarity, other Romanian equivalents of the word are used. Here is a synthesis of the main Romanian equivalents of the English heart: 3.5.1. The word may be translated as an abstract noun: . Suflet (“soul”), e.g to unburden one’s heart / a-şi descărca sufletul; put heart in / a pune suflet în; . Conştiinţă (“conscience”), e.g., my heart smote me / aveam mustrări de conştiinţă; . Curaj, îndrăzneală (“courage”, “daring”), e.g., to lose heart / a-şi pierde curajul; faint heart / lipsit de îndrăzneală; . Gând (“thought”), e.g., to set one’s heart on / a-şi pune în gând; . Milă (“pity”), e.g., have a heart / ai milă; . Înclinaţie (“inclination”, “call”, “vocation”): e.g., follow one’s heart / a-şi urma propriile înclinaţii; . Gust, interes (“taste”, “liking”, “interest”): e.g., close, dear to sb’s heart / pe gustul cuiva, de interes pentru cineva; . Atitudine (“attitude”): e.g., a change of heart / o schimbare de atitudine; . Mijloc, centru, miez, esenţă (“middle”, “centre”, “core”, “essence”): e.g., the heart of the forest / mijlocul pădurii; the heart of the problem / esenţa problemei; 3.5.2 When heart is used as a term of address suggesting love, Romanian resorts to substantivized adjectives: dear, sweet heart / scumpule, scumpo, dragule, dragul meu, dragă, draga mea, etc. 3.5.3 The English structure may be translated by a structure, usually an idiomatic phrase, a saying, containing a noun denoting another part of the body, such as the eyes, e.g. sob, cry, weep one’s heart out / a-i seca ochii de atâta plâns; the legs, e.g., my heart fails me / mi se taie picioarele (de frică); the breast/ chest, e.g., press to one’s heart / a strânge la piept; or stomach, e,g, heart burn / arsuri la stomac. 3.5.4 The equivalent of heart or of the whole structure containing the word heart may be an adjective: e.g., heart surgery / chirurgue cardiacă; have a heart / fii milos [“be compassionate”]; his heart is in his boots / este necăjit, foarte trist, deprimat [“he is upset, very sad, depressed”]; his heart is not in it / nu e prea entuziasmat; nu e interesat [“he is not too enthusiastic; he is not interested”]; heavy heart / trist, deprimat [“sad, depressed”]. Sometimes not only is heart omitted in the translation, but the Romanian adjective corresponds in fact to the other term of the collocation: e.g., gladden the heart / a face fericit (“make happy”); dear to sb’s heart / drag (cuiva) (“dear”). 3.5.5 The word heart may be omitted in the translation and the equivalent of the whole structure may be a verb, denoting the feeling or attitude suggested by heart: e.g., touch sb’s heart / a impresiona, a mişca (pe cineva) [“impress, move sb.”]; give heart to sb./ a încuraja, a sprijini [“encourage, support”]; cross one’s heart / a (se) jura [“swear”]; one’s heart sinks / a se dezumfla, a se potoli. 3.6 The English verbs that collocate with the noun heart may have semantic features not present in the Romanian verbs, e.g. they may also suggest the manner, the duration or the cause of the action performed or suffered by the heart. Such features are rendered into Romanian with the help of adverbials. The adverbial either replaces the word heart (e.g., set one’s heart on sth / a-şi dori ceva foarte mult [“want sth. very much”]) or simply clarifies the meaning of the whole English structure: e.g., one’s heart vibrates / a-i tremura inima de emoţie, de fericire (cause or reason of the action) [“one’s heart trembles with emotion, with happiness”]; one’s heart sinks / inima se strânge de tristeţe (cause or reason of the action) [“one’s heart shrinks because of sadness”]; sob, cry, weep one’s heart out/ a-i seca ochii de atâta plâns (cause or reason of the action) [“one’s eyes get dry from so much crying”]; one’s heart throbs, thumps, is thudding, pounds, palpitates/ inima bate tare, cu putere (manner of the action) [“one’s heart beats strongly”], palpită, zvâcneşte; one’s heart gallops/ inima bate cu repeziciune/ repede (manner of the action) [“one’s heart beats rapidly”]; one’s heart quickens, becomes fast/ inima începe să bată repede (manner of the action) [“one’s heart begins to beat faster/quicker”]; one’s heart skips, misses a beat/ inima se opreşte o secundă/o clipă (duration of the action) [“one’s heart stops for a second/ moment”]. 3.7 Most English idiomatic expressions correspond to Romanian idiomatic expressions, which may or may not contain the equivalent word of heart (inimă): e.g., his heart is in, jumped into his mouth / i se face inima cât un purice; i-a sărit inima din loc; his heart leaps out of his mouth / este speriat de moarte; l-au băgat în sperieţi; wear one’s heart upon one’s sleeve / ce e-n guşă şi-n căpuşă. 3.8 Sometimes the Romanian equivalent is simply an explanation, a paraphrase of the English structure: e.g., a union of hearts / căsătorie bazată pe afecţiune, pe dragoste [“marriage based on affection, on love”]. 4. Conclusion The meanings of the word heart are very important for its translation, and they are determined, most frequently, by the structures in which the word occurs; on the other hand, the translation of the word is important for the learner’s understanding or clarifying its meaning, even if sometimes this may involve either some loss or some addition of meaning (particularly when heart is used figuratively). The word and some of the structures in which it occurs may be given a literal translation, because the source and the target language words are referentially equivalent; when they are just connotatively equivalent, Romanian makes use of a variety of words that correspond to the meanings of heart or, sometimes, uses a structure in which the word is omitted altogether. There are also many instances when the word heart and the structure in which it occurs undergo a change of grammar -a translation procedure known as shift (Catford 1965) or transposition (Vinay and Darbelnet 1958). Thus, sometimes the Romanian translation employs structure shifts (e.g., a change of word order) or class shifts (e.g., the equivalent of the noun heart is a different part of speech in the target language). Bibliography Baker, M. 1992. In Other Words. A Coursebook on Translation. London: Routledge. Catford, J.C. 1965. A Linguistic Theory of Translation. London: Oxford University Press. Vinay, J.P., and J. Darbelnet. 1958. Stylistique comparée du français et de l’anglais. Méthode de traduction. Paris: Didier. Rastislav Šuštaršič university of Ljubljana Faculty of arts, english Department Phonemic Transcriptions in British and American Dictionaries Summary In view of recent criticisms concerning vowel symbols in some British English dictionaries (in particular by J. Windsor Lewis in JIPA (Windsor Lewis, 2003), with regard to the Oxford Dictionary of Pronunciation (Upton, 2001), this article extends the discussion on English phonemic transcriptions by including those that typically occur in standard American dictionaries, and by comparing the most common conventions of British and American dictionaries. In addition to symbols for both vowels and consonants, the paper also deals with the different representations of word accentuation and the issue of consistency regarding application of phonemic (systemic, broad), rather than phonetic (allophonic, narrow) transcription. The different transcriptions are assessed from the points of view of their departures from the International Phonetic Alphabet, their overlapping with orthographic representation (spelling) and their appropriateness in terms of reflecting actual pronunciation in standard British and/or American pronunciation. Key words: transcription, dictionary, British English, American English. Fonemske transkripcije v britanskih in ameriških slovarjih Povzetek Ob upoštevanju kritičnih prispevkov, ki zadevajo rabo samoglasniških simbolov v nekaterih britanskih slovarjih (predvsem gre za zapis J. Windsorja Lewisa v reviji JIPA (Windsor Lewis, 2003), o rabi simbolov v slovarju izgovorjave Oxford Dictionary of Pronunciation (Upton, 2001), avtor v tem prispevku razširi razpravo o fonemski transkripciji na predstavitev tipičnega nabora simbolov v standardnih ameriških slovarjih in primerjavo tega z običajnim naborom simbolov v britanskih slovarjih. Poleg samoglasniških in soglasniških simbolov gre pri tej primerjavi tudi za označevanje besednega naglasa in za vprašanje doslednosti z vidika rabe fonemske (tj. sistemske) v nasprotju z rabo fonetične (oz. alofonske) transkripcije. Ob tem se avtor sklicuje na razlike med obravnavanimi transkripcijami in simboli, ki so sestavni del Mednarodne fonetične abecede, upoštevajoč tudi možnost prekrivanja transkripcije z ortografskim zapisom posameznih besed, in na ustreznost simbolov z vidika odražanja dejanske izgovorjave posameznih glasov v standardni britanski oz. ameriški angleščini. Ključne besede: transkripcija, slovar, britanska angleščina, ameriška angleščina. Phonemic Transcriptions in British and American Dictionaries 1. Introduction When deciding on how to represent the pronunciation of English in the form of transcription, one first needs to be aware of the well-known fact that sounds and letters in English simply ‘don’t agree’. The main reason for this is of course the fact that there are considerably more sounds in English than the letters used for the orthographic representations (i.e. the written forms) of the English lexicon. There are only 26 letters in English, while the total number of sounds (vowels and consonants) is somewhere between 40 and 45, depending on whether we are dealing with the standard British, American, or some other standard English pronunciation. It is therefore quite clear that in addition to the straightforward application of most of the letters of the alphabet for individual sounds (as e.g. the letter for the sound /t/), we need to apply some (less familiar) symbols to cover those sounds that cannot be represented in this way. Some of the basic principles, including but not restricted to those proposed by Windsor Lewis (Windsor Lewis, 2003) that seem to be worth accounting for, are: a) usage of familiar symbols, b) avoidance of diacritics, c) avoidance of overlap with spelling of other items, d) approximation to actual pronunciation, e) providing both American and British pronunciation. 2. American versus British 2.1 Main differences The most important general difference between transcriptions in British and American dictionaries is the prevailing American tendency to base their transcription system on orthography (letters) rather than some special ‘phonemic’ symbols. In order to compensate for the lack of a sufficient number of letters, authors make use of various digraphs and diacritics. This means that users do not need to become familiar with an extra set of symbols in order to work out the pronunciation of lexical items, but they are not much better off, since they still need to decipher the meanings of diagraphs and in particular of the various, often confusing diacritical marks. In some ways, this approach seems more user-friendly in trying to link pronunciation symbols with orthography, but it provides little information on pronunciation itself. For example, offering the transcription /th/ for the pronunciation of e.g. thunder can only be interpreted as ‘pronounce this sound as it is usually pronounced when the spelling is ’; of course, we still have to think of how to show the difference between the /th/ of thunder and that of e.g. this. In American dictionaries this is usually solved by underlining, bold-typing or italicizing one of the two symbols. With the diacritics and doubling used with the five vowel letters /a e i o u/, however, these advantages disappear and using the same letter for different sounds becomes a disadvantage rather than a welcome simplification. British transcriptions are more or less consistently based on the symbols of the International Phonetic Alphabet (IPA). While this makes little difference with regard to consonants, the whole system of vowel symbols is completely different, with hardly any equivalence between the two symbol sets. Admittedly, it is quite a difficult task for dictionary users to learn the whole set of the IPA symbols used for this purpose but these are undoubtedly more appropriate in terms of information provided on actual pronunciation of individual sounds, as well as in terms of crossing language boundaries (being ‘international’ rather than restricted to English). 2.2 Symbols for consonants To begin with, there is no problem with most of the consonantal symbols, as appropriate letters can be used to represent them in both American and British dicitonaries. These symbols are also used within the International Phonetic Alphabet, although there are differences among languages with regard to the actual pronunciation of individual sounds. Thus, for example, /t/ is a dental plosive in some languages and alveolar in others. We should also be aware of the fact that many of the consonantal letters are sometimes unpronounced (we talk about ‘silent’ or ‘mute’ consonants), so one still needs to be careful not to equate sounds and letters, not even in the case of these ‘unproblematic’ consonants. Thus, the same symbols are used in all dictionaries for 16 (precisely two thirds of) English consonants: - plosives: p t k b d g - fricatives: f v s z h - sonorants: l r w m n However,therearesomeproblemsalreadyhere(suchasthemarkingofvoiced/t/andapplication of the symbol as part of the symbols for certain vowels and for the pronunciation of words in American English); these specific cases will be discussed separately below. Turning to the problematic third of the symbol set, we find that these relate to -the sounds of breatTH and breaTHe -the sounds of SHort, pleaSure, ChurCH and JuDGe -the initial sound of Yell and -the sound of baNG The usual symbols used for these sounds in British and American dictionaries respectively are given with examples in Table 1. EXAMPLE British American breath . ..... breathe . ........ short . .. pleasure . .. church .... .. judge .. . yell . . bang . ............ Table 1: Consonantal symbols in British and American dictionaries 2.2.1 Dental fricatives Concerning the dental fricatives, it could be argued that both with British and American symbols the user faces the same problem, namely that of possibly confusing which symbol stands for the strong (voiceless) and which for the weak (voiced) sound. The two IPA symbols in the Britsh version, however, will simply have to be learnt, while the symbols are of course a reminder of the spelling of the two sounds. Unfortunately, American dictionaries distinguish between them in different ways. Thus in the Random House (Nichols, 2001) and in Webster’s dictionary (Guralnik, 1986), the symbol for the strong fricative is simply /th/ in one and /th/ with a bottom tie bar (..) in the other, and the one for the weak sound is diagonally crossed in both dictionaries, which is rather difficult to 'reproduce' if one has to apply the transcription in a document such as this paper. In this regard, the IPA symbols, which can easily be obtained as a separate font, are considerably less problematic. Some other American dictionaries use underlining or italics for the weak sound, which of course only adds to the confusion of the users. However, since the purpose of crossing or linking two letters (as for the sibilants below) is obviously to suggest that a sound is represented by two letters, underlining and italics are technically a much better solution for the purpose. The Penguin dictionary (Allen, 2000), which gives British pronunciations only, while its symbols mostly follow the American conventions, offers /dh/ for the weak sound, which seems interesting, but in combination with the rest of the symbols this leads to some bizarre transcriptions, such as e.g. /’fahdh./ for the word father. 2.2.2 Sibilants As for the dentals, the difference is again between using IPA symbols in British and digraphs suggesting the usual spelling of individual sibilants in American dictionaries. It should be noted, however, that for Slovene users the familiar letters (š, ž, č, dž), applied for example in the biggest exisitng English-Slovene dicitionary (Grad, 1978), is definitely a recommendable option, along with other simplifications that are often applied in our bilingual dictionaries, in particular from the point of view of the general public. The IPA symbols for the affricates consistently show the ‘composite’ nature of the affricates (with two elements for each of them) while in American transcription the prevailing orthography is used to represent the IPA /../. On the other hand, I have often observed the problems that students have with the IPA symbol /./, interpreting it as /../, and reading for example used to, transcribed /......../ as /......../. 2.2. Sonorants As it has just been observed for the IPA transcription of the palatal semi-vowel, the influence of orthography seems to be an argument in favour of the American link between orthography and pronunciation. However, while the transcription /y/ may work well for words like yellow, it is not quite unproblematic when the sound is not represented by the letter . Thus, the representation of e.g. beauty by the initial /..-/ is not very helpful. A similar problem occurs with the transcription of the velar nasal (as in sing). While the IPA symbol is not difficult to remember, the (usual) American spelling representation is both misleading (suggesting somehow that the should be pronounced when it actually shouldn’t), as well as awkward (notice that anger gets a double /ng-g/ and thank is transcribed with /ngk/. 2.3 Symbols for vowels As for the consonants, the main difference between American and British dictionaries is in the usage of letters and diagraphs in American dictionaries vs. IPA symbols in British dictionaries. Since the 5 vowel letters and several digraphs are still insufficient for the 17 vowels of General American (let alone the 20 of Standard British English pronunciation), American dictionaries also use different diacritics in order to disitinguish between short and long vowels (both monophthongs and diphthongs). In British dictionaries, the simple length mark (:) is used for the long monophthongs and IPA-based digraphs are consistently applied for the 8 diphthongs. There is, however, a problem with the representation of vowels in those British dictionaries which provide also American representation, since the authors try to show the pronunciation differences by using different symbols. American dictionaries, on the other hand, usually disregard British pronunciation. 2..1 Short vowels As can be seen in Table 2, American dictionaries offer a relatively neat solution by simply using the five vowel letters and the IPA symbol for the schwa. Unfortunately, there is also a diagraph for the vowel of put, and some dictionaries use the ‘breve’ diacritic to show that the vowels are short. In British dictionaries, there is some variation for the set and sat vowels in British pronunciation, and for the vowels of pot, loss and cut in American pronunciation. The least satisfactory, in my opinion is the symbol /./, either with or without the length mark, because it leads one to pronounce words like loss with the vowel of BE for e.g. laws. In addition, the introduction of /./ Upton et als. (Upton, 2001) for the vowel of set, although it can be justified on the grounds of its degree of openness, is nevertheless completely unnecessary. EXAMPLE British American Sit . .... Set ... .... Sat ....... .... Pot; loss .........;.......... .... Put . ... Cut ...... .... about; father .;......... ..... Table 2: Vowel symbols in British and American dictionaries: short monophthongs Table 3 shows that there is some further variation in British dictionaries with regard to the short monophthongs /./ and /./, when used in unaccented position, i.e. as 'weak' vowels. The reason for this is the possibility of further weakening of both vowels to the schwa. Some dictionaries use a very complex system of numbering, such as /.1 .2 .3/ etc. for different alternations between the schwa and several other Vs, as e.g. Collins Cobuild (Sinclair, 2001). EXAMPLE British American reply ./......./... ..... hopeful ./... ... Table 3: Vowel symbols in British and American dictionaries: variation in short monophthongs in unaccented position. 2..1 Long monophthongs While the American system becomes even more confusing here with three different diacritics and a diagraph for the vowel of root (see Table 4 below), the British dictionaries show some variation with regard to usage of length mark, the symbol for the vowel of shirt and that for the American pronunciation of task. We could imagine a very neat set of symbols in British dictionaries by way of deletion of all length marks (since this is an allophonic feature anyway) and by avoiding the unnecessary extra symbol /./ for the American pronunciation of task. Such transcriptions have actually been applied by Windsor Lewis (Windsor Lewis, 1972) but were later unfortunately disregarded by the majority of British (as well as other) transcribers. The author further simplified the symbol set by using simply the letter /./ instead of /./, which is a bit questionable from the point of view of IPA, where /./ is used for a mid-close rather than a mid-open or even open vowel. EXAMPLE British American seat .. .. start; task dance ..........;....../...... .(r). shirt ............ ..r port .......... ..r root .......... ... Table 4: Vowel symbols in British and American dictionaries: long monophthongs 2..2 Diphthongs The American set of symbols is again too complex, due to different diacritics and digraphs (see Table 5) , while the straightforward British system was also here unnecessarily upset by Upton et als. (Upton 2001), by the introduction of /../ (exclusively) for the British pronunciation of light, as well as by that of /../ for the vowel of scare, which not only disregards the well-established symbol but also conceals the close relationship between the three ‘centring’ diphthongs. EXAMPLE British American Late .. .. Light ......... .. Choice .. .. Shout .. .. Coat ...... .. Fear .......... ....... Scare ............. ..r Cure .......... ...r Table 5: Vowel symbols in British and American dictionaries: diphthongs 2.4 Other symbols Due to restrictions of space, I will not discuss some of the less important features (e.g. marking of syllabicity of consonants and that of optional schwa elision), and will restrict my comparison to the marking of word accentuation and to the symbols used for allophonic realizations of the vowels /./ and /./ and the consonant /r/. With regard to accentuation marking, the IPA convention is to place the (primary and secondary) stress marks before the accented syllables, a practice followed by most British dictionaries, while American dictionaries mostly have them after these syllables. It was perhaps in order to avoid this ambiguity that some lexicographers (as for example those of the English-Slovene (Grad 1978) and some American dictionaries) chose to place the primary stress on the accented syllable, which makes the matter clear but is technically more problematic. Perhaps a better solution is either to use bold type or underlining of accented syllables, as for example in American Heritage Dictionary (Pickett 1994). It should also be pointed out that very few dictionaries provide the very important primary and secondary accentuation marking for compounds (eg. .running .commentary). An exception is for example the Macmillan dictionary (Mayor 2002), which uses the same symbol for secondary and tertiary stress (eg. .desig.nated). Finally, with regard to the allophonic variants mentioned above, which are mostly given specific symbols only in British dictionaries, I have always thought that they are completely unnecessary and only make the whole set of symbols (even more) inconsitently phonemic, i.e. they bring in the element of ‘realization’ into what is mostly meant to be a representation of the ‘system’. Rather than making the set of symbols too complex, we should strive to make it simpler. Some moves have been made in this direction in British dictionaries, e.g. by introducing the same first element for the diphthongs /../ and /../ and by replacing /./ with /./ (as well as /../ by /../), and the next logical step would be the above mentioned removal of the length mark. Unfortunately, while this proposed simplification has not been widely accepted, the allophonic symbols /./ and /./ have spread from the LPD (Wells 2000) to almost all British monolingual dictionaries (see Table 6). As for the 'voiced /t/' in the American pronunciation of e.g. waiting, it can either be ignored (if considered an allophonic feature) or marked as /d/ (if we adopt the view of some phonologists and phoneticians that e.g. latter and ladder are homophonous in General American); this has actually been applied in some British dictionaries. In any case, the more common marking of this sound with a diacritic is awkward and not really useful, since not even phoneticians can agree on what this ‘voiced tap’ really is and in what way it differs from either /d/. Vocing of /t/ EXAMPLE British American tight, waiting ........ .... Neutral Vs EXAMPLE British American /i/ city . .. /u/ influence ... ... Table 6: Representation of some allophones in British and American dictionaries. . Conclusion It follows from my discussion above, that while I would opt for some simplifications and in particular a more consistently phonemic transcription in British dictionaries, I still prefer the existing situation in these to the very confusing marking in the majority of American dictionaries. While the point of departure of the American approach was obviously to try and use familiar symbols (i.e. letters) rather than the less familiar phonetic symbols, the authors could not avoid using digraphs and diacritics. This, in combination with the difficulty of finding proper links between spelling and pronunciation, has made the transcriptions in American dictionaries even less transparent and user-friendly than the IPA approach in British dictionaries. In addition, if the transcription is meant as a rough guide to the pronunciation of a lexical item, then an agreed set of phonetic symbols seems more appropriate than usage of letters representing the usual spellings within a particular language. Finally, it should be pointed out that it is only in the British dictionaries that we are likely to find both standard British and standard American pronunciation, which may be a decisive criterion for the EFL user to opt for one of the British rather than American sources when looking up the pronunciation of English words. Bibliography Handbook of the International Phonetic Association. 1999. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Windsor Lewis, J.W. 2003. IPA vowel symbols for British English in dictionaries. Journal of the IPA. Volume 33/2. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Dictionaries Allen, R., et al., eds. 2000. Penguin English Dictionary. London: Penguin Books. Grad, A., R. Škerlj, and N. Vitorovič. 1978. Veliki angleško-slovenski slovar. Ljubljana: Državna založba Slovenije. Guralnik, D.B., et al., eds. 1986. Webster’s New World Dictionary. 2nd College Edition. New York: Prentice Hall Press. Jones, D., P. Roach, and J. Hartman, eds. 2003. English Pronouncing Dictionary. 16th Edition. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Mayor, M., et al., eds. 2002. Macmillan English Dictionary for Advanced Learners. Oxford, 2002. Nichols, W.R. et al., eds. 2001. Random House Webster’s Unabridged Dictionary. New York: Random House. Pickett, Joseph P., et al., eds. 1994. American Heritage Dictionary. 3rd Edition. Boston, New York: Houghton Miffin Company. Sinclair, J., ed. 2001. Collins Cobuild English Language Dictionary. London: Harper Collins. Upton, C., et al., eds. 2001. Oxford Dictionary of Pronunciation for Current English. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Wells, J.C. 2000. Longman Pronunciation Dictionary. 2nd Edition. Harlow: Longman. Windsor Lewis, J. 1972. A Concise Pronouncing Dictionary of British and American English. London: Oxford University Press. Marjeta Vrbinc university of Ljubljana Faculty of arts, english Department An Empirical Study of Dictionary Use: the Case of Slovenia Summary The article presents the results of the first research into dictionary use conducted in Slovenia on a sample of 70 students from the Faculty of Economics and the Faculty of Arts, University of Ljubljana, Slovenia. The first part investigates the profile of the students as dictionary users, their level of knowledge, and describes the questionnaire used in the study. The second part presents the results of individual tasks with an emphasis on dictionary use and compares the achievements of test subjects from both faculties, while the final part deals with the causes for these differences and proposes steps that could be taken to increase student and teacher awareness concerning dictionary use and dictionary skills. Key words: dictionary testing, users’ reference skills, general monolingual and bilingual dictionaries Empirična raziskava rabe slovarjev pri rojenih govorcih slovenščine Povzetek V članku so predstavljeni rezultati prve študije rabe slovarjev, izvedene v Sloveniji. Študija je vključevala 70 študentov Ekonomske fakultete in Filozofske fakultete Univerze v Ljubljani. V prvem delu članka je opisana skupina, na kateri je bila študija izvedena, nivo njihovega jezikovnega znanja in vprašalnik, ki smo ga uporabili v študiji. Drugi del obravnava rezultate posameznih nalog, pri čemer je poudarek na rabi slovarjev, vključena pa je tudi primerjava rezultatov študentov obeh fakultet. V zadnjem delu so navedeni razlogi za razlike med obema skupinama in predlogi za izboljšanje rabe slovarjev s strani učiteljev in študentov. Ključne besede: testiranje rabe slovarjev, sposobnost uporabnikov za iskanje informacij, splošni enojezični in dvojezični slovarji An Empirical Study of Dictionary Use: the Case of Slovenia 1. Introduction In the last two decades, a number of research projects have been conducted investigating users’ reference skills and needs, as well as users’ habits in the field of dictionary use. The conference Dictionaries and their Users, which was organized by Reinhard Hartmann in the late 1970s, initiated a period of more intensive dictionary testing. Jerzy Tomaszczyk (1979) was the first to study the foreign users of dictionaries more thoroughly and was soon followed by Béjoint (1981), who based his investigation partly on Tomasczczyk’s (Cowie 1999, 175–98). Later in the 1980s and 1990s, various researchers carried out studies concerning different aspects of dictionary needs, skills and use. The focus was on many areas of interest, such as definitions, illustrative examples, labels, grammatical information, and inclusion of phraseological units; and the trend still continues (Béjoint 1981; Hartmann 1989; Nuccorini 1992; Bogaards 1992, 1994; Nesi 1994; Atkins and Varantola 1998; Dolezal and McCreary 1999; Cowie 1999; Tono 2001; Bogaards and van der Kloot 2001; Al-Ajmi 2002; Campoy Cubillo 2002; Nesi and Haill 2002; Wingate 2002). Consequently, monolingual learners’ dictionaries have improved a great deal, which can be seen if we compare the last editions of, e.g., Oxford Advanced Learner’s Dictionary of Current English (OALD) or Longman Dictionary of Contemporary English (LDOCE) to mention just the British learners’ dictionaries with the longest tradition. The oldest among the learners’ dictionaries, OALD, has seen six revised editions since 1948. It was followed by the LDOCE in 1978, which has been revised three times so far. In 1987, the Collins COBUILD English Language Dictionary (COBUILD) was first published, introducing many changes to the microstructure. In 1995, the above-mentioned leading monolingual learners’ dictionaries were all revised and another learners’ dictionary, the Cambridge International Dictionary of English (CIDE), was first published; in 2003 it appeared in a revised edition. The Macmillan English Dictionary for Advanced Learners (MED), another monolingual dictionary for foreign learners, was first published in 2002. But has there also been improvement in users’ capacity to make full use of these books? In Slovenia, no study has ever been carried out concerning dictionary users and their use of dictionaries. This article presents the investigation conducted in order to find out what kind of dictionaries users possess, how often and how effectively they use them, what they usually look up in their dictionaries, and what they would like to find in their dictionaries but is not included. The investigation was a general type of research which did not concentrate on one particular aspect of dictionary use because it seems appropriate to start with a general research objective, rather than to address a more specialized issue. 1. Description of the study Test Subjects: The study was carried out among second-and third-year students of the Faculty of Economics – they can be regarded as general dictionary users – and second-year students of the Faculty of Arts, Department of English – they are future professional users of dictionaries who will often have to consult them in their career as teachers or translators. Level of Knowledge: All the test subjects studied English in primary school, in grammar school and at the university. They had the same number of English lessons per year and covered the same syllabus. Test Design: The questionnaire consisted of two parts (cf. Atkins and Varantola 1998): a Dictionary user profile form and a Dictionary research test. The first part was aimed at obtaining information about the dictionary users, i.e. their mother tongue, how long they have been studying English, and their grades in grammar school. The next few questions concentrated on the dictionaries they own and their reasons for purchasing these, on the frequency of use of bilingual and monolingual dictionaries, the dictionaries they use for particular tasks (e.g. while reading a text in English, while translating or checking the spelling), and on their preferred dictionary/dictionaries. Description of the Dictionary research test: In the Dictionary research test, test subjects were asked to list a dictionary or dictionaries they were going to use throughout the test. In some tasks students were encouraged to use dictionaries, whereas in others they were asked not to use them. Information Prior to theTest: Before completing the questionnaire, the students were acquainted with the aim of the test. We asked them not to use their dictionaries in certain tasks and explained why. When dictionaries were allowed, the students were asked to indicate whether or not a dictionary had been consulted in each particular instance. 2. Results The Dictionary research test consisted of eight tasks, each comprising several questions. Each task was aimed at testing a specific skill, ability or expectation of a dictionary user. 2.1 Identification of part of speech Task 1 consisted of six sentences in which students had to identify the part of speech of the word in italics. The majority of the existing monolingual and all of the English-Slovene dictionaries include different parts of speech as separate entries. It is, therefore, necessary for dictionary users to be able to determine the part of speech before looking up a word in a dictionary. In this task dictionaries were not allowed. Although this is a rather uncomplicated task, the results were not as good as expected, since the percentage of correct answers ranges between 32.5 % and 84.5 %. Neither of the two groups of students performed well when they were asked to identify the conjunction after in the sentence ‘After you’d left, I got a phone call from John’: the question was answered correctly by 20 % of the FE students and 45 % of the FA students. Both groups seem to have the fewest problems with the identification of just as an adverb in the sentence ‘He has just arrived’ (74 % of the FE students, 95 % of the FA students). On the basis of these results it can be assumed that many respondents have difficulty in looking up the right part of speech when consulting their dictionary. 2.2 Recognition of grammatical properties of words Task 2 tested whether students were aware of certain grammatical restrictions and properties of English words (e.g. transitivity/intransitivity, verb complementation, countability/ uncountability, predicative/attributive use). The students were encouraged to use their dictionaries. Correct student answers range from 32.5 % to 86 %. As far as checking words in a dictionary is concerned, only very few students used their dictionaries (from 1 % to 13 %); it seems that their choice of answers may have depended either on their previous knowledge or on their choosing the correct answer by chance rather than on their consulting the dictionary. In the group of FA students, nobody consulted their dictionary in two questions, whereas 20 % of them checked the last example where they had to select the adjective lone, used attributively to fill the slot in the sentence ‘_____ women drivers are advised not to pick up hitch hikers’. Fifty-five percent of them gave the correct answer, as opposed to 10 % of the FE students (where only 6 % consulted their dictionaries). The results concerning the use of dictionaries give cause for concern. Only very few respondents actually consulted their dictionaries, especially in the group of FE students, who obviously found the task much more difficult than the FA students. Only very few respondents actually consulted their dictionaries in both groups, although that factor was less critical among the English majors who were probably more familiar with the grammatical properties of the words in question than were the FE students. Those who did were successful, as only five out of 18 look-ups performed in this task were unsuccessful. Among the dictionaries used, most of the students chose one of the monolingual learners’ dictionaries, but some students also used the ESD, which is much less suitable for this task. The ESD is a passive dictionary intended for native speakers of Slovene when decoding, that is why the emphasis is on the meaning rather than on the grammatical peculiarities of English. 2.3 Lexical items and their expected place in a dictionary Task 3 tested students’ expectations of where in the dictionary they can find different (multi-word) lexical items (e.g. idioms, phrasal verbs, compounds). The use of dictionaries was not allowed, since students might have believed that the correct answer could be found in their dictionary. This is, of course, not true, since the inclusion of multi-word lexical items and special meanings of, say, plural nouns differs from dictionary to dictionary. Our initial hypothesis was that students would not consider a multi-word lexical item as a separate entry word. The results of the survey confirm this hypothesis, as only 2 % to 22 % of the respondents regarded a multi-word lexical item as a separate entry word. Sixteen percent of the students would look up the phrasal verb come through as a separate entry, but it can be assumed that some students believe that phrasal verbs are independent entries in monolingual learners’ dictionaries, although they are included as defined run-ons. The rest of the answers comply with our expectations, i.e. dictionary users try to find a multi-word lexical item under the noun if it contains one. 2.4 Selection of the appropriate prepositional complement Task 4 tested students’ ability to find the correct prepositional complement of various English words. We selected grammatical collocations that present problems for native speakers of Slovene (i.e. grammatical collocations that are different in English and Slovene). If students were not acquainted with the correct preposition, they were supposed to check it in a dictionary. The results show that the FA students were more aware of the fact that the choice of a correct preposition in English poses problems for native speakers of Slovene. As far as performance is concerned, the FA students achieved far better results, which is in accordance with our expectations. As far as the success of students’ look-ups is concerned, the results show that students used monolingual learners’ dictionaries as well as the ESD. The majority of students who consulted their dictionaries provided correct answers (38 successful versus 11 unsuccessful look-ups out of 49 look-ups performed). 2.5 Understanding the polysemous words in context Task 5tested how well students understand polysemous words in context. The students were asked either to provide the Slovene translational equivalent of the underlined word or to paraphrase it in English. They were allowed to use their dictionaries and here the average percentage of students who used the dictionary is higher than in the previous tasks (up to 55 %). The question can be asked why students used their dictionaries more often in this particular task than in the previous ones. The answer may be sought in the demands placed upon the students in this task. Task 5 required that the students themselves provide an answer. It is understandable that if they did not understand the meaning of the word in question, they would consult their dictionaries, a pattern of behaviour which complies with our expectation that the dictionary is used while reading an English text and encountering unknown words. The preferred dictionary in this task seems to have been the ESD. This is understandable, since this was a pure decoding task. Apart from the ESD, other monolingual learners’ dictionaries were also used. 2.6 Deciphering the international phonetic alphabet Task 6 dealt with the IPA, which is used in British monolingual (learners’) dictionaries to indicate pronunciation of entry words. This task was included because we hypothesized that a great number of dictionary users in Slovenia cannot read the given pronunciation. To test this assumption, we included six well-known words (i.e. unimaginative, birthplace, northern, approach, breathing, showgirl) written in the IPA to see whether the test subjects are able to read the phonetic symbols. Dictionaries were not allowed. Our initial assumption proved correct for the group of FE students, since the majority either made no attempt to decipher the words or were unable to do so. The percentage of students who gave no answer ranges from 62 % (in unimaginative) to as much as 90 % (in northern and showgirl). As expected, the FA students who had already passed the examination in English phonetics after the first year of study did not really have problems with reading the words written in the IPA (80 % to 95 % answered all the questions correctly). The number of those who did not try to provide any answer at all was also much smaller (from 5 % to 20 %). Instruction in the IPA is on the English syllabus in grammar schools in Slovenia. Students should, therefore, be acquainted with the symbols, but the results show a completely different picture for the FE students, who can be considered more general users of dictionaries, than for the students of English who are expected to become professionals. It is beyond the scope of this research to find the reasons why so many students from the FE group are unable to read pronunciation. Is it simply because they have forgotten it due to a lack of practice? Or could it be because they did not deal with it in grammar school? These questions remain unanswered. 2.7 Filling the slot in context Task 7 tested students’ ability to find a suitable word to fit the context. Test subjects were allowed to use their dictionaries. The text contained 14 slots that had to be filled with parts of lexical and grammatical collocations. The results show that neither group really had problems with finding the right word to fill certain slots and in these cases they consulted their dictionaries only very rarely (e.g. questions 7/33, 7/34, 7/39, 7/40, 7/42, 7/44). In questions 7/36 and 7/43 there was a huge gap between the percentage of correct answers (60 % of the FE students but 95 % of the FA students gave the correct answer to question 7/36, and 62 % of the FE students but 100 % of the FA students answered question 7/43 correctly). Here, too, not many students used their dictionaries (10 % and 15 % in question 7/36; 2 % and 0 % in question 7/42). The results of some questions were not as good but in these questions we can see that the percentage of students (especially of English majors) who actually consulted their dictionaries was much higher than in other questions: – Question 7/35: 44 % of the FE students gave the correct answers (14 % used their dictionaries), 55 % of the FA students gave the correct answer (45 % used their dictionaries) – Question7/38:66%oftheFEstudentsansweredthisquestioncorrectly(6%consultedtheir dictionaries), as opposed to 70 % of the FA students (35 % consulted their dictionaries) – Question 7/45: 48 % of correct answers in the group of FE students (16 % used their dictionaries) and 60 % of correct answers in the group of FA students (60 % used their dictionaries) Two questions (i.e. 7/37 and 7/41) yielded particularly poor results. In the first of these the students were supposed to find the verb that collocates with the noun prescription. In the group of FE students, nobody gave the correct answer, and only 2 % used their dictionaries. Fifteen percent of the FA students answered this question correctly, and only 10 % consulted their dictionaries. A possible reason for such a low percentage of look-ups may be that the students did not really know what to look up in the dictionary – it is the entries for the bases of the collocations that they should have looked up in their monolingual learners’ dictionaries in order to find the right collocator that could be inserted into the slot. In question 7/41 (the students were supposed to provide the preposition against in the sentence ‘The medication is reported to be very effective _______ the common cold’), only 6 % of the FE students answered correctly (no one consulted their dictionary), the percentage of correct answers being just slightly higher in the group of FA students (15 %), where 20 % used the dictionary. We strongly believe that students should be systematically taught which words in word combinations they should look up if they want to become efficient dictionary users. A specialized dictionary of collocations would be of great help in this task, but this type of dictionary was selected very rarely. 2.8 Selection of the appropriate word Task 8 tested students’ ability to choose the appropriate word from a list of four items to fill the slot in relatively difficult contexts. They were allowed to use their dictionaries. It can be seen that the percentage of correct answers differs greatly in almost all the questions if we compare the results of the FE and FA students: – Question 8/47: 24 % of the FE students gave the correct answer (10 % used their dictionaries) and 80 % of the FA students answered the question correctly (35 % used their dictionaries) – Question 8/49: 30 % of the FE and 75 % of the FA students responded correctly, the percentage of the look-ups being 6 % and 5 %, respectively; – Question 8/50: in the group of FE students, 46 % answered correctly (36 % consulted their dictionaries), whereas 80 % of the FA students provided the correct answer (40 % consulted their dictionaries); – Question 8/51: 64 % of the FE students gave the correct answer (46 % used their dictionaries) as opposed to 90 % of the FA students (65 % used their dictionaries). According to the results concerning the performance of students who used their dictionaries to discern the correct answer to the question, the majority of students managed to find the appropriate information in their dictionaries, but again the FA students were more successful than the FE students. . Discussion When studying dictionary use and the dictionary skills of a particular group of dictionary users, we have to consider the dictionaries our test subjects own and use when completing the questionnaire. We can establish that our respondents possess one of the bilingual English-Slovene and Slovene-English dictionaries available on the market. As regards monolingual dictionaries, some differences can be observed between the groups of students. While most of the FE students possess only one of the monolingual learners’ dictionaries, all FA respondents, without exception, claim to own at least one if not more dictionaries of this type. We can see that students, for the most part, own at least one of the existing monolingual learners’ dictionaries. The ownership of monolingual dictionaries intended for native speakers, however, reveals a different picture. The majority of the FA students, on the one hand, claim to own at least one dictionary belonging to this group while the FE students rarely list one of these dictionaries.Themostastonishinginformationweobtainedasregardstheownershipofdifferent types of dictionaries was that not a single FE respondent claimed to possess any specialized dictionary. The FA students, however, own and also use specialized dictionaries, among which they enumerated dictionaries of collocations, idioms and phrasal verbs and a dictionary of pronunciation. Obviously, students become acquainted with specialized dictionaries as late as university, which is late indeed considering the number of years they have been studying English before the university level. Comparing the total number of students who used a dictionary when completing the questionnaire, we can establish that in the group of FE students who used their dictionaries 68 % managed to answer the question correctly. In the group of FA students 88 % found the correct answer. The number of unsuccessful look-ups in the FE group amounts to 32 % and to 12 % in the FA group. The results show a much better performance by the FA students, which can lead to the conclusion that the dictionary training of the FA students yields positive results in comparison to a group without any specific dictionary training. It must be stressed that all the test subjects attended primary and grammar schools with the same syllabus, so we can justifiably assume that the dictionary training language students receive is useful and helps them find the correct answer in their dictionaries. We strongly believe that a lack of dictionary training is also the reason that the FE students used their dictionaries much less frequently than the FA students while completing the questionnaire. 4. Conclusion The results presented in this article are based on the first research that has ever been conducted into the dictionary use of Slovene learners of English. It can be regarded as a good starting point for further investigation into more specific areas of dictionary use concerning bilingual as well as monolingual dictionaries, such as the analysis of the micro-and macrostructure of English-Slovene and Slovene-English dictionaries, the ability of users to make good use of various types of information found in bilingual as well as monolingual (learners’) dictionaries ranging from grammatical information to the inclusion of phraseological units, the role of definitions and example sentences within dictionary entries. The study was well accepted by the students who completed the questionnaire. When they were asked to make comments about the questionnaire, they said it was interesting because many of them had never consciously thought about dictionaries as study resources. Not until they were faced with this questionnaire had they believed that dictionaries included so much information. Several respondents expressed their wish to receive special training in dictionary use in order to be able to use their dictionaries more effectively. We believe it was useful for students to complete such a questionnaire, because some of them did consult their dictionaries and expressed their opinions about them. It is a matter for concern, however, that they are still not willing to use their dictionaries more often – it is only in this way that they become familiar with them, their layout and the variety of information they contain – and finally become more efficient dictionary users. More effort should be devoted to the development of dictionary skills and more time should be spent on teaching dictionary use in grammar schools; however, teachers of English should first be trained in how to do it and convinced of the necessity of teaching dictionary skills. One of the most important findings of this study is that students should be made aware of the full range of dictionaries, from general-purpose to specialized dictionaries in order to be able to choose the appropriate dictionary when solving their linguistic problems. This should be accomplished especially by raising teacher awareness of the importance of teaching dictionary skills. It would be useful to integrate special exercises designed to teach and learn dictionary skills into coursebooks, so that students acquire the knowledge necessary for effective dictionary use in the course of the educational process. In order to raise teacher awareness, special courses should be offered as part of language degree programmes at universities, which is currently not the case in Slovenia. Apart from that, lectures as well practical workshops dealing with how to teach dictionary skills would be useful for Slovene foreign language teachers and could be organized as in-service courses. Bibliography Dictionaries cited: LDOCE Longman Dictionary of Contemporary English OALD Oxford Advanced Learner’s Dictionary COBUILD Collins COBUILD English Language Dictionary MED Macmillan English Dictionary CIDE Cambridge International Dictionary of English ESD English-Slovene Dictionary Al-Ajmi, H. 2002. Which microstructural features of bilingual dictionaries affect users’ look-up performance? International Journal of Lexicography 15, no. 2: 119–31. Atkins, B.T.S., ed. 1998. Using dictionaries: Studies of dictionary use by language learners and translators. Lexicographica Series Maior 88. Tübingen: Max Niemeyer Verlag. Atkins, B.T.S., and K. Varantola. 1998. Monitoring dictionary use. In Atkins, ed., 83–122. Béjoint, H. 1981. The foreign student’s use of monolingual English dictionaries: A study of language needs and reference skills. Applied Linguistics 2, no. 3: 207–22. Bogaards, Paul 1992. French dictionary users and word frequencies. In Euralex ’92 proceedings I–II (Part I), eds. W.H. Tommola, K.Varantola, T.Salmi-Tolonen, and J. Schopp, vol. 2: 51–61. Studia Translatologica, Ser. A, Tampere. Finland: University of Tampere. Bogaards, P. 1994. Tuning the dictionary to the skills of intermediate learners. Fremdsprachen Lehren und Lernen 23: 192–205. Bogaards, P. & W.A.van der Kloot. 2001. The use of grammatical information in learners’ dictionaries. International Journal of Lexicography 14, no. 2: 97–121. Campoy Cubillo, M.C. 2002. Dictionary use and dictionary needs of ESP students: An experimental approach. International Journal of Lexicography 15, no. 3: 206–28. Cowie, Anthony P. 1999. English Dictionaries for Foreign Learners: A History. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Dolezal, Fredric Thomas and McCreary, Don R. 1999. Pedagogical Lexicography Today. (Lexicographica Series Maior 96.) Tübingen: Max Niemeyer Verlag. Hartmann, Reinhard R. K. 1989. What we (don’t) know about the English language learners as a dictionary user: A critical select bibliography. In Learners dictionaries: State of the art, ed. M. L. Tickoo, (Anthology Series 23), 213–221, Singapore: SEAMEO Regional Language Centre. Nesi, H. 1994. The effect of language background and culture on productive dictionary use. In Euralex 1994 proceedings, eds. W. Martin, W. Meijs, M. Moerland, E. ten Pas, P. van Sterkenburg, and P. Vossen, 577–85, Amsterdam: Vrije Universiteit. Nesi, H. & R. Haill. 2002. A study of dictionary use by international students at a British university. International Journal of Lexicography 15, no. 4, 277–305. Nuccorini, S. 1992. Monitoring dictionary use. In Euralex ’92 proceedings I–II (Part I), eds. W. H. Tommola, K. Varantola, T. Salmi-Tolonen, and J. Schopp, Studia Translatologica, Ser. A, Vol. 2, 89–102, Tampere, Finland: University of Tampere,. Tomaszczyk, J. 1979. Dictionaries: Users and uses. Glottodidactica 12: 103–19. Tono, Y. 2001. Research on Dictionary Use in the Context of Foreign Language Learning. Lexicographica Series Maior 106. Tübingen: Max Niemeyer Verlag. Wingate, U. 2002. The Effectiveness of Different Learner Dictionaries. An Investigation into the Use of Dictionaries for Reading Comprehension by Intermediate Learners of German. Lexicographica Series Maior 112. Tübingen: Max Niemeyer Verlag. Katarina Dea Žetko educational centre for postal service, economics and telecommunications Indefinite and Continuative Interpretations of the English Present Perfect Summary The objective of our paper is to demonstrate that the English present perfect is not by inherent meaning either indefinite or continuative. Notions like indefinite and continuative are context-dependent interpretations of whole constructions and their broader context. However, continuative interpretation can also be triggered by certain adverbials, negative constructions and verbs in the progressive form. But, even these factors do not always guarantee continuative interpretations. Construction, continuative meaning can be cancelled by the context in a broader sense, this fact being a proof that this meaning is merely an implicature. We will demonstrate how different factors interact and trigger either indefinite or continuative interpretations which are not inherent in the present perfect itself. Our paper will attempt to provide sufficient evidence that there is no indefinite/continuative distinction in the English present perfect; the inherent meaning or function of the present perfect is merely to locate the situation somewhere within a period that starts before the time of utterance and leads up to it. Key words: the present perfect, inherent meaning, interpretation Nedoločna in kontinuativna interpretacija angleškega present perfecta Povzetek Namen našega članka je pokazati, da inherentni pomen angleškega present perfecta ni niti nedoločen niti kontinuativen. Nedoločni in kontinuativni pomen izhajata iz kontekstno odvisnih interpretacij celih konstrukcij in širšega konteksta. Povod za kontinuativno interpretacijo so lahko določeni adverbiali, negativne konstrukcije in glagoli v progresivni obliki. Vendar pa celo ti dejavniki dostikrat ne zagotavljajo kontinuativne interpretacije. Kontekst v širšem smislu namreč lahko razveljavi kontinuativni pomen. To dejstvo predstavlja dokaz, da je ta pomen zgolj implikatura. Pokazali bomo, kako različni dejavniki medsebojno vplivajo drug na drugega in povzročijo bodisi nedoločno bodisi kontinuativno interpretacijo. Naš članek bo poskušal priskrbeti dovolj dokazov, da v angleškemu present perfectu nedoločno/kontinuativno razlikovanje sploh ne obstaja. Ugotovili bomo tudi, da je inherentni pomen present perfecta zgolj postavljanje situacije nekje v obdobju, ki se je začelo pred časom govorjenja in vodi do njega. Ključne besede: present perfect, inherentni pomen, interpretacija Indefinite and Continuative Interpretations of the English Present Perfect 1. Introduction Grammarians distinguish between at least two meanings of the present perfect. Moreover, most grammarians assign three or even more meanings to the present perfect, their approach being based on the pragmatic meanings of the present perfect. Comrie’s (1976, 56-61) classification is four-fold: (1) "Perfect of result", (2) "Experiential perfect", (3) "Perfect of persistent situation" and (4) "Perfect of recent past". Leech (1987, 36-40) also assigns four different meanings to the present perfect: (1) "State-up-to-the-present", (2) "Indefinite past", (3) "Habit-in-a-period-leading-up-to-the-present" and (4) "Resultative past". Quirk et al. (1985, 192-5) do not differ substantially from the above mentioned authors although their classification is three-fold: (1) "State leading up to the present", (2) "Indefinite event(s) in a period leading up to the present" and (3) "Habit (i.e., recurrent event) in a period leading up to the present”. Greenbaum (1996, 270-2) argues that the present perfect has three basic functions and should be classified into: (1) "the state present perfect", (2) "the recurrent present perfect" and (3) "the event present perfect". The mention of these linguists is sufficient to show that there is no common agreement on how many meanings the present perfect actually has. These linguists find it difficult to establish in which particular environments the perfect occurs. Our paper will not be concerned with these contextual meanings of the present perfect but will try to establish what the inherent meaning of the present perfect is. Among the linguists concerned with this question mention must be made of Declerck (1991, 28-34), who claims that the present perfect has (1) "indefinite" and (2) "continuative meaning" although he (1991, 339) agrees "that the perfect itself has no indefinite or continuative meaning", but according to him only yields an indefinite or continuative interpretation in a certain context. Our paper takes a similar point of view. The objective of our paper is therefore to demonstrate that the English present perfect is not by inherent meaning either indefinite or continuative. Notions like indefinite and continuative are context-dependent interpretations of whole constructions and their broader context. However, this type of context is not the only factor that triggers these two interpretations. Continuative interpretation can also be generated by certain adverbials, negative constructions and verbs in the progressive form (i.e., narrower context within the clause). However, even these factors do not always guarantee continuative interpretations. Even if there is an adverbial for ... in the perfect construction, continuative meaningcanbe cancelledbythecontext(i.e.,broader context outside the clause), this fact being a proof that this meaning is merely an implicature. We will show how different factors interact and trigger either indefinite or continuative interpretations which are not inherent in the present perfect itself, but arise from other factors belonging to the pragmatics of the linguistic and/or extra-linguistic context. Our paper will attempt to provide sufficient evidence that there is no indefinite/continuative distinction in the English perfect and that the inherent meaning of the perfect is merely the function of locating the situation somewhere within a period that starts before the time of utterance and leads up to it. At the same time, our paper will emphasise that indefinite/continuative interpretations should not be simply collapsed, for they have important theoretical and practical implications. 2. Adverbials and linguistic context Indefinite and continuative interpretations can be triggered by certain types of adverbials. The most commonly mentioned adverbials are for ... and since ... , which are frequently believed to generate continuative interpretation in the perfect constructions as in (1) and (2): (1) Although I have personally only been associated with the Project for a comparatively brief six years, I am extremely conscious that there is an understandable impatience for results. (Ayckbourn 1999, 397) (2) It’s alright for you. I’ve been up since six o’clock. I’ve been up and down the wards. Emptying the bed pans. Serving breakfasts. (Ayckbourn 1999, 409) The constructions (1) and (2) obtain continuative interpretation. However, the question remains whether this interpretation is due to the nature of these adverbials or due to the adjacent or even extra-linguistic context. As Declerck (1991, 323) claims, the continuative interpretation is possible: (1) when there is a certain adverbial present, (2) when the sentence is negative, (3) when the context enforces the continuative interpretation and (4) when the verb is in the progressive form. The constructions (1) and (2) fulfil two of Declerck’s conditions for the continuative interpretation, i.e., adverbials for ... and since ... and the adjacent context that enforces this interpretation. Moreover, in the construction (2) extra-linguistic context, which remains unrevealed to the reader of this paper, also plays an important role. However, when these constructions occur in isolation, e.g., I have personally only been associated with the Project for a comparatively brief six years and I’ve been up since six o’clock, they become ambiguous between two readings although the indefinite is less salient when the construction occurs in isolation. Hence it follows that the temporal adverbials such as since and for-phrases contribute little to the meaning of the present perfect construction, or, more precisely, less than the adjacent context itself. The construction (3) will support this claim even more strongly: (3) It’s like some big bird has been hovering over me for fifteen years, and suddenly it’s flown away. (Miller 1993, 15) The construction (3) acquires indefinite interpretation despite having the same temporal adverbial as (1). The construction (3) even contains the present perfect in the progressive form; it therefore fulfils two out of four of Declerck’s conditions for continuative interpretation, i.e., the adverbial for ... and the verb in the progressive form. Nevertheless, the adjacent context (i.e., context in the broader sense) is decisive in determining the interpretation. Its role in assigning the interpretation to this construction is of paramount importance. However, when this construction occurs in isolation, e.g., It’s like some big bird has been hovering over me for fifteen years, it is ambiguous between the two readings, indefinite being less salient. Interestingly, even if indefinite interpretation is less salient when the construction appears in isolation, its real contextual interpretation is indefinite and not continuative. In (3) continuative interpretation is cancelled by the adjacent context. We therefore believe that continuative interpretation cannot be an inherent meaning (i.e., implication) of the present perfect because inherent meaning cannot be cancelled by any means. We claim that it is merely conversational implicature, which can be cancelled. (4) Since my son died it has rained three times. All evidence washed away. (Pinnock 1999, 107) Theconstruction (4)differsfrom(3)because thebroadercontexthas nosignificantroleindefining the interpretation, however this since ... construction acquires an indefinite interpretation unlike since ... construction (2), which obtains the continuative. Declerck (1991, 335-7) distinguishes between bounded and unbounded temporal adverbials. He classifies since ... as a bounded adverbial. In his opinion, this indicates that bounded adverbials can refer to the time span as a whole, but cannot refer to the subinterval. According to Declerck, since ... constructions always obtain continuative interpretation. However, the construction in (4) implies that this is not always true. It acquires indefinite interpretation. In (4) there are more subsituations (it has rained three times) that also lie entirely before the time of utterance. The period that is established by since ... leads up to the time of utterance. The fact that constructions with since ... can express indefinite interpretation has already been noted by Quirk et al. (1985, 538). They emphasise that the since ... constructions can indicate the period in which one or more actions took place. This is illustrated by the construction She has got married since you saw her in June. The idea of continuity can therefore not be considered a defining property of the present perfect. And even more surprisingly, it can be claimed that certain temporal adverbials such as since and for-phrases contribute little to the continuative interpretation of the present perfect. . negation A negative element in a perfect construction can trigger a continuative interpretation, which would be indefinite in its affirmative counterpart. The constructions (5) and (6) obtain continuative interpretation due to their negative element: (5) I’ve never been in Mrs Crow’s room. We painted it yellow last year. (Churchill 1973, 17) (6) I’ve never had a postman go down on me. (Elton 1991, 102) The affirmative counterparts of (5) I’ve been in Mrs Crow’s room and (6) I’ve had a postman go down on me obtain indefinite interpretation due to the absence of the negative element never. The negative element in (5) and (6) actually implies that the action has not occurred within a period that begins before the time of utterance and leads up to it. This non-occurrence of the situation stretches up to now, hence the continuative interpretation. On the other hand, the affirmative counterparts of (5) and (6) locate the situation within a period that leads up to the time of utterance, but the situation itself lies entirely before it, hence the indefinite interpretation. The negative element also plays a significant role in triggering the continuative interpretation of the perfect construction, this finding being an additional support to our claim that continuity should not be considered an inherent meaning of the present perfect. 4. Progressive aspect As far back as 1947, Reichenbach demonstrated that the progressive (i.e., extended) forms of tenses have the same temporal structure as their simple counterparts. More recently, Schlüter (1999, 317) has argued that “Verb phrases in the present perfect progressive do not form a function of their own, but rather add certain connotations of the progressive verb phrase (e.g. duration, iteration or incompletion) to the existing functions of the present perfect.” We adopt a similar point of view and claim that the verb in the progressive form does not always affect the temporal location, i.e. it does not always trigger continuative interpretation of the perfect construction. We also reject Feigenbaum’s claim (1981, 402) that “[...] the progressive aspect overrides other constituents in the clause, to determine that the perfect is continuative". In order to prove his claim, he provides examples such as ... They have been building the bridge etc., which always gain continuative interpretation due to the progressive element. Although we believe that the present perfect in the progressive form frequently obtains continuative interpretation, we believe that an indefinite one is also possible. The construction (7) illustrates that indefinite interpretation can be triggered by other elements in the clause: (7) I’ve just been husking the corn. (Shepard 1979, 75) The construction (7) denotes an activity which finished just before the time of utterance. It may be claimed to be explanatory in nature. The adverbial just is decisive in triggering indefinite interpretation of this construction. However, the extra-linguistic context, which remains unrevealed to the reader of this paper, also plays an important role; i.e., the farmer comes to the house dirty and uses this utterance as an explanation of his present state. The importance of the interplay between various elements in determining the interpretation of the perfect constructions will be revealed in the following examples: (8) I’ve been asking you for seven years now. (Simon 1972, 658) (9) (The difference is we’ve done this sketch twelve thousand times, and you’ve always said “Come in,” and suddenly today it’s “Enter.”.) You know why we’ve been doing it the same way for forty-three years? Because it’s good. (Simon 1972, 670) In (8) the progressive form of the perfect and the adverbials for ... and now trigger continuative interpretation, whereas (9), although also having progressive form and the adverbial for ... , acquires indefinite interpretation due to the adjacent context (provided in brackets). Even though the construction (9) fulfils two conditions for continuative interpretation, i.e., (1) the progressive form and (2) the adverbial for ..., the interpretation is indefinite, suggestive of the paramount significance of the context in the broader sense in determining the interpretation of the perfect construction. However, it should be borne in mind that all these factors, i.e., (1) the broader context, (2) the progressive/simple form and (3) the adverbials, which determine whether the interpretation of the perfect construction is either indefinite or continuative, are not part of the perfect form. These findings support our claim that there is no indefinite/continuative distinction in the perfect form itself, this claim bringing us close to Bauer’s approach (1970, 194) that the continuative perfect is an interplay between the function of the perfect and certain contextual factors and to Zydatiß (1978, 352), who claims that even if a perfect construction is in the progressive form and has the adverbial for ..., it may be ambiguous between indefinite and continuative interpretation. He consequently reaches the conclusion that with certain types of situations only context can decide which interpretation can be assigned to the present perfect construction. The significance of the context in the broader sense will be illustrated in the construction (10), which may even transfer the perfect construction in the progressive form from the pre-present sector into the past time-sphere. In this case, we suppose the preterite (i.e., simple) would be a more appropriate form: (10) The school board has been abusing me for years. (Refused to believe me – took the word of pathological liars over mine. I ended up being called a racist – I!) (Oates 1991, 83) The context in the broader sense indicates that the period in which the situation is placed lies entirely before the time of utterance. This construction is uttered by a retired teacher, who was sacked because of racism, though according to her belief she was a victim. She thinks a lot about this event and is not ready to accept that she was dismissed; therefore this utterance is emotionally coloured. Additionally, her perception of time is different; she is retired, has nothing to do and constantly makes things up to draw people’s attention. Interestingly, if (10) The school board has been abusing me for years were taken out of its linguistic and extra-linguistic context, the most salient meaning for this construction would be continuative meaning of the present perfect. If the construction were accompanied by some linguistic context such as The school board has been abusing me for years, but now I have a new job, the meanings would be indefinite. However, nobody would think of the meaning of the preterite with a period lying entirely before the time of utterance. To sum up, if the construction with the present perfect as in (10) is accompanied by an appropriate context, it may obtain three different meanings, the meaning of the preterite being the most unusual. As far as the meaning of the preterite in (10) is concerned, we believe that even if the preterite seems to be the most appropriate form for unaffected people, the present perfect perfectly fits the psychological reality of the speaker who utters the above mentioned construction, and therefore remains open as to whether this construction really lies wholly before the time of utterance; it may lie before it for unaffected hearers, but not for affected speakers. As a consequence, some doubt remains as to whether this perfect construction can be assigned the meaning of the preterite. . Conclusion In this paper we aimed at providing evidence that there is no indefinite/continuative distinction inherent in the present perfect form itself. The inherent meaning of the present perfect is merely the function of placing a situation within a period that starts before the time of utterance and leads up to it. We showed that the continuative interpretation is an interplay between the function of the present perfect and certain contextual factors. The analysis of our examples showed that we should distinguish at least between two types of context, i.e., context in the narrower sense and context in the broader sense. Context in the narrower sense includes elements within the clause, i.e., adverbials, negation/affirmation/ interrogation and verb in the simple/progressive form. It should be borne in mind that these elements belong to the linguistic context within the clause, but they are not part of the present perfect itself. However, they contribute to the interpretation of the present perfect construction. Context in the broader sense includes information outside the clause, i.e., the adjacent linguistic and extra-linguistic context. Our analysis revealed that context in the broader sense plays an even more significant role than the context in the narrower sense. Even if perfect constructions contain elements belonging to the narrower context that are necessary to trigger continuative interpretation, this can be cancelled by the broader context. Hence it follows that indefinite/continuative meaning is not inherent in the present perfect itself but arises from the context in the narrower and/or broader sense. If a certain perfect construction acquires continuative interpretation, this can be cancelled by the context. As a consequence, this interpretation cannot be considered an inherent meaning of the present perfect but merely an implicature. Implicatures can be denied, but if they are not, they will be taken to hold. It follows, then, that the present perfect has only one inherent meaning. However, we do not believe that indefinite and continuative interpretations should be simply collapsed because it makes a difference in terms of temporal structure. This distinction should not be abolished because it proves to be very useful for research and pedagogical purposes. Moreover, in Slovene indefinite interpretation is frequently translated by preteklik, whereas the continuative is frequently translated by sedanjik. However, this observation should not be accepted as a general but rather a simplified rule. When we discuss the English present perfect, we should be aware that it does not place the situation in time by itself, but with the help of adverbials and many other elements. As Crystal (1966) claims, an adequate study of temporal relations in English can only be reached by studying the relations between adverbial and tense. The tenses on their own do not locate situations in time, this task being performed by the help of temporal adverbials and context (Declerck 1991, 254-5). "Together, these create temporal structures which to a large extent determine the temporal interpretation of the clauses in which they occur" (Declerck 1997, 103). We actually do not want to depart from the above mentioned claims by Crystal and Declerck; however we firmly believe that linguists should be aware of the difference between inherent and contextual meanings of the present perfect even if the finding that the present perfect inherently merely locates a situation somewhere within a period that starts before the time of utterance and leads up to it proves to be of minor value for empirical research and pedagogical implications. In the theoretical field this distinction is of significant value because it enables linguists to distinguish between different elements involved in the temporal structure and their different contributions to locating a situation in time. Bibilography Bauer, G. 1970. The English Perfect reconsidered. Journal of Linguistics 6: 189-98. Comrie, B. 1976. Aspect. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Crystal, D. 1966. Specification and English tenses. Journal of Linguistics 2, no. 1:1-34. Declerck, R. 1991. Tense in English: Its structure and use in discourse. London: Routledge. ---. 1997. When-Clauses and Temporal Structure. London: Routledge. Feigenbaum, I. 1981. The uses of the English perfect. Language Learning 31, no. 2: 393-407. Greenbaum, S. 1996. The Oxford English Grammar. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Leech, G.N. 1987. Meaning and the English Verb. 2nd edn. London and New York: Longman. Quirk R., S. Greenbaum, G. Leech, and J. Svartvik. 1985. A Comprehensive Grammar of the English Language. London and New York: Longman. Reichenbach, H. 1947. Elements of Symbolic Logic. New York and London: The Free Press and Collier-Macmillian Limited. Schlüter, N. 1999. The Present perfect in British and American English: Selected Results of an Empirical Analysis. In Corpus Linguistics and Linguistic Theory, ed. C. Mair and M. Hundt, 2000, 313-20. Amsterdam: Rodopi. Zydatiß, W. 1978. "Continuative" and "resultative" perfects in English? Lingua 44: 339-62. Analysed material Ayckbourn, A. 1999. Gizmo. In New Connections 99: New Plays for Young People, 395-443. London: Faber and Faber. Churchill, C. 1973. Owners. In C. Churchill: Plays: 1, 1985, 1-67. London: Methuen. Elton, B. 1991. Silly Cow. In B. Elton: Plays 1, 1998, 97-172. London: Methuen. Miller, A. 1993. The Last Yankee. In A. Miller: Plays: Five, 1995, 1-42. London: Methuen. Oates, J.C. 1991. The Eclipse. In J.C. Oates: Twelve plays, 53-95. New York: Dutton. Pinnock, W. 1999. Can you keep a secret? In New Connections 99: New Plays for Young People, 93-145. London: Faber and Faber. Shepard, S. 1979. Buried Child. In S. Shepard: Plays 2, 1997, 61-132. London and Boston: Faber and Faber. Simon, N. 1972. The Sunshine Boys. In The Longman Anthology of American drama, ed. L. A. Jacobus, 1982, 653-84. New York and London: Longman. II. LITERATURE Lester E. Barber Bowling green State university, Ohio Literature and Daily Life: Looking for Love in All the Wrong (and Right) Places Summary It is sometimes claimed these days that serious literature is seldom relevant to the lives of ordinary citizens of our communities. It is the contention of this author, however, that good literature is always a joy to read and consider. The ideas conveyed by that literature can guide us, challenge us and reassure us in our daily lives. The challenge for the author is to see if he can demonstrate the truth of these claims to a general, non-academic audience. The first section of the article argues that Shakespeare in his Romeo and Juliet was doing something brand new in renaissance England – presenting love as a deep and sharply felt human emotion, something very different from the “game” oflove presented inso many earlier works of thatperiod and itspredecessor as well, including plays, treatises of love and the many sonnet sequences of those times. The second, and somewhat longer, section analyzes James Purdy’s novel, The Nephew, seeing in it an underlying theme of love’s emotional power and redemptive force in the lives of ordinary individuals of all ages. Key words: literature and daily life, academic and general audiences, James Purdy (The Nephew), Shakespeare (Romeo and Juliet), satire and celebration/redemption Književnost in vsakdanjost: V iskanju ljubezni povsod tam, kjer je ni (ali pa je) Povzetek Danes pogosto slišimo, da ima resno leposlovje bolj kot ne pičlo zvezo z življenjem navadnih ljudi. Naše stališče temelji na predpostavki , da je dobro leposlovno delo vedno vir užitka in premisleka, ker nas njegove misli usmerjajo, vznemirjajo in pomirjajo, medtem ko živimo svoje življenje. V pričujočem razmišljanju bomo tako predvsem skušali ugotoviti, ali je mogoče takšne predpostavke upravičiti tudi v razmerju do t.i. širšega, neakademskega bralstva. Prvi del razprave poudarja, da je Shakespeare v Romeu in Juliji vzpostavil nekaj povsem novega za renesančno Anglijo – predstavil je ljubezen kot globoko in tenkočutno čustvo, kot nekaj, kakršno se je občutno razlikovalo od “igre” ljubezni, kakršno najdevamo v mnogih dramskih, esejističnih in sonetnih delih njegovih predhodnikov. V drugem in nekoliko obširnejšem odstavku se lotevamo romana Nečak avtorja Jamesa Purdyja, v katerem je emocionalna moč ljubezni prikazana kot odrešilna sila v življenju posameznika in vseh generacij. Ključne besede: književnost in vsakdanjost, akademsko in splošno občinstvo, James Purdy (Nečak), Shakespeare (Romeo in Julija), satira in hvalnica/odrešitev UDK 82:1:177:316.7 UDK 821.111.09 Shakespeare W. :821.111(73) Purdy J. LITERATURE 119 Literature and Daily Life: Looking for Love in All the Wrong (and Right) Places 1. Introduction The purpose of this article is to offer a test of my ability to communicate some of the essential personal rewards of reading and studying imaginative literature to a general, non-academic audience. Recent years have witnessed many similar efforts on the part of university English Department teachers and other academics. Their essays and mine are all efforts to bridge a huge gulf that developed in the later Twentieth Century between college teachers of English and the public at large. For years, reports in the media have characterized English faculty as engaged mostly in the study of abstract theory or the politics of various “isms.” In addition, it is sometimes claimed that most serious literature – even when approached or taught in more familiar ways – is irrelevant to the lives of ordinary citizens. I believe, however, that good literature can almost always be a joy to read and consider. The ideas conveyed by that literature can guide us, challenge us and reassure us in our daily lives. My challenge here is to see if I can demonstrate the truth of these claims in practice. I look forward to receiving reader evaluations of my efforts. The two texts I’ve chosen for examination have some interesting things in common, as you would naturally expect. But, they were also chosen, in part, because of their relevance to a general audience. Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet is, of course, widely known by people all around the world. For example, in the United States it is taught to a large percentage of all high school students. James Purdy’s The Nephew, on the other hand, is not widely known in the United States, although Purdy was respected for his fiction during the 1960’s and 70’s, known especially, perhaps, for his earlier novel, Malcolm. In another example of a recurring literary irony, Purdy today is better known and more admired in Europe than he is in his native country. His second novel, The Nephew, is especially relevant to my primary general audience in the United States because it is set in Bowling Green, Ohio, which – among many other things – is my actual hometown. In fact, the setting is on the very neighborhood corner where my family now lives. Thus, it is a good choice for readers in the region where I hope to have the most direct impact. There is a well-known American country-western song called “Looking for Love in All the Wrong Places,” a tune which speaks primarily to ordinary people and uses the popular idiom of such music. With only one minor adjustment, I found it perfectly apt as a title for my article. Country-western music is loved primarily by general, non-elite audiences, and this tune’s expression of the power of love to inflict pain as well as joy is directly relevant to both Romeo and Juliet and to The Nephew. From this point on, I will present my argument just as it would be given to an audience in northwest Ohio, USA if published in the local newspaper, the Bowling Green Daily Sentinel-Tribune – a paper whose name is mentioned several times in The Nephew, by the way. Love is a feeling that interests individuals and cultures deeply, and almost everyone values its joys and its intensity. But, in its many forms, it can also be a vexing, puzzling and contradictory emotion. In all of its manifestations, both positive and negative, I think we would all agree that it is nearly universal in human experience. I have in mind two pieces of literature that explore the topic of love, both of which should be of interest to readers of the Bowling Green Sentinel-Tribune. They may seem a very odd pair, but that oddity itself emphasizes the wide-ranging and puzzling qualities of love. Also, it will be intriguing to see how two otherwise unrelated literary works can illuminate each other. First is Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, which, among many other things, was the starting point for the recent film “Shakespeare in Love,” a movie as popular in northwest Ohio as it was elsewhere in the country and around the world. Second is an American novel from the early 1960’s by James Purdy, a writer whose name will ring a special bell locally because he grew up in northwest Ohio, and because The Nephew is set in Bowling Green. 2. Romeo and Juliet All of us, I expect, know at least something about Romeo and Juliet. We know, certainly, that Verona was both the right place and the wrong place for love. The wrong place because a family feud separates two young lovers and creates the circumstance that ends their lives tragically. But, the right place, too, because Verona is the setting for a love of such passion and purity that it has inspired readers and viewers for over four hundred years. Even though it is a much loved and respected play, Romeo and Juliet is sometimes looked down upon in comparison to some of Shakespeare’s other, supposedly greater, tragedies like Othello and King Lear. This is because the tragedy in Romeo and Juliet depends on external factors or accidents (such as timing miscues), rather than the internal natures of the tragic characters themselves. This may be so, but in at least one respect Romeo and Juliet has a securely unique place in the history of English literature. It was, I believe, the first great work in English to treat love as a “real” human emotion, to put the power and passion of love up front, at center stage, so to speak. Love had been a major topic in English literature prior to Shakespeare, as a plethora of sonnet sequences prove beyond any shadow of doubt. However, the typical treatment of this topic was very different from Shakespeare’s, very traditional and very artificial. Love was usually presented as a game, with a set of conventional rules to be followed at all cost. But, when Shakespeare composed Romeo and Juliet, he threw the rules away. Shakespeare was very aware of this new road he was traveling. He makes that clear by giving Romeo some earlier, pre-Juliet, romantic feelings for a cold, unattainable lady named Rosaline. That earlier love has all the conventions and artificialities of the old tradition. But, when Romeo first meets Juliet, all the conventions fly out the window, and the poetry tells us that this new love is deep and real. “Oh, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!” he says. “Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! / For I ne’er saw true beauty till this night.” It is the simplicity of the language that is especially telling here. It emphasizes and confirms Romeo’s sincerity. The two young people first declare their love to one another in the famous balcony scene. And, if anything, both here and in later scenes, including the final one of their self-inflicted deaths in the Capulet tomb, Juliet’s language seems even more true, even more deeply felt than Romeo’s, perhaps because she’s a bit more realistic, less totally romantic in her understandings. “Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say, ‘Ay,’ And I will take thy word.” But, she also says, with full and honest commitment, “Good night, good night! As sweet repose and rest / Come to thy heart as that within my breast!” Similar examples are numerous as the action unfolds, including the scene when they must separate because of Tybalt’s death at Romeo’s hand. But, I will let these two small samples of their language stand for all the rest. It might seem treasonous to some Shakespeare readers and scholars to say so, but I believe that the film “Shakespeare in Love” offers one of the very best available presentations of Romeo and Juliet. Of course, it is not a production of the play itself, by any means, but it does offer some very effective segments, with excellent actors reading Shakespeare’s poetry beautifully. In addition, the film openly “argues” the point that Shakespeare was doing something new and wonderful in describing the very soul and meaning of love in this play. Dame Judi Dench’s Queen Elizabeth even declares him the winner of a bet on that point. And, finally, the parallel scenes of the passionate but doomed love between Will Shakespeare and Viola d’Lesseps reinforce and deepen the relevant emotions in Romeo and Juliet. To use a bit of language from the film itself, it is I believe, a piece “for all times.” In other words, if you know Romeo and Juliet mostly through “Shakespeare in Love,” you know its essence honestly. . The Nephew Those of you who have read James Purdy’s 1960 novel, The Nephew, will probably not think immediately of the topic “love” in connection with that work. In particular, the early 1960’s readers from Bowling Green and northwest Ohio are much more likely to have responded with suspicion and anger at the satirical images given of one small mid-western town and its local college. While The Nephew has not, I think, lingered distastefully on the town’s palate the way Winesburg, Ohio lingered on Clyde’s, there’s still no denying that Purdy “sends up” any number of rural small town and provincial college behaviors as small-minded and hypocritical. In addition, Purdy’s novel explores other themes very typical of the decades following World War II. One of these is the inability of people to articulate their true thoughts and feelings to other people, even close friends and family members. Another is the idea that no one can ever clearly know the truth about other people, their circumstances, thoughts and feelings. Purdy’s town is named Rainbow Center, and his characters – who include cautious, conservative men, timorous but pretentious ladies, an imperious, meddlesome college trustee and one of the lesser members of the college faculty – all reside on or near the four corners at the intersection of Peninsula Drive and Crest Ridge Road. It is commonly thought that these people bear very close resemblance to members of the Bowling Green and Bowling Green State University communities who lived around the intersection of Ridge and N. Prospect streets in the 1950’s. However biting the book’s satire may have seemed in the 1960’s, and may still seem, The Nephew is at heart a study of love. Like Shakespeare’s Verona, Rainbow Center is also both the wrong and the right place for love. It is the wrong place because the expression of love comes so very, very hard for the provincial and puritanical people of 1950’s Middle America. However, it is the right place as well because the importance of love to all of the novel’s characters is fully and deeply dramatized. It is even true, I think, that love’s various forces are meant, ultimately, to redeem the town and its seemingly small-minded inhabitants. On the surface, The Nephew is a quiet story, with two main characters who are quite intentionally meant to seem boring to us. Nevertheless, the surface is misleading, because underneath is a large set of human emotions and behaviors that run the gamut from pathetic to violent to noble, with all of them centered on a search for love. Alma and Boyd Mason are elderly siblings who are living out the twilight of their years together in Rainbow Center. She is an unmarried schoolteacher, now retired, who shares the original family home with her brother, a childless widower who moved in with her after his wife died. Boyd continues to pay some attention to his long-time career as a real estate agent, and Alma has a small shop in her home, but mostly we see both of them in relationship to their memories of a nephew, Cliff, whom they had helped raise to early adulthood, and who is now abroad as a soldier in the Korean War. An official notice from the U.S. War Department that Cliff is “missing in action” sends both old people, but Alma in particular, into a deep and disturbing well of memories and apprehensions about their feelings for Cliff and his for them. That, along with a series of revelations about the hidden lives of their neighbors, is the basic “action” of the novel. This story of Alma and Boyd, with its accompanying revelations concerning their neighbors, is about a number of things, among them the near impossibility of truly knowing other people, or even oneself. However, I think, The Nephew is also about the tricky and elusive power of love. Love sought. Love denied. Love feared. Love given unselfishly. Love as jealousy. Love between members of the same sex. Love uncertain. It is even, finally, about love confirmed and affirmed – but only in shadowy, shifting ways. Not the passionate purity of romantic love, as in Romeo and Juliet, but other kinds of love which are just as compelling and just as real in their own, very different, ways. Alma and Boyd, childless themselves, ache with a deep longing and love for their absent nephew Cliff. Under the stress of their advanced years, retirement from their lifelong professions and the news that Cliff is missing in action in Korea, the two relatives develop an urgent need to believe that their nephew had loved them deeply as well. Subsequent news from the War Department that Cliff has been confirmed dead arrives in Rainbow Center at about the same time that revelations from some of their neighbors make it clear that Cliff’s only real passion as a young adult had been to escape from Rainbow Center and from his two elderly guardians. Despite the shock of this revelation, both Alma and Boyd – with the knowing help of nearby friends – reconstruct their memories of Cliff in such a way as to reassure themselves that they had been truly loved by the boy. The Masons’ next-door neighbor, Willard Baker, the only surviving member of a prominent Rainbow Center family, has lived his life into middle age knowing that both his parents loved his younger brother far more than they did him. In addition, Willard lives a frustrating, sometimes drunken and angry life in the present because he suspects that the young man who lives with him, Vernon Miller, does not reciprocate the love he feels. Vernon Miller, in turn, is a lonely, timid Rainbow Center native, an orphan who seeks consolation and love in marriage after Willard is killed in an automobile accident. His wife is another resident of the neighborhood, a forty-year-old whose sterile life for a decade or more has revolved solely around caring for her demented, Alzheimer’s-stricken mother. Professor Mannheim, a German scholar at the local college and a man whose professional career stalled at the assistant professor level, is forced by an imagined threat to his continued employment at the school to acknowledge to his second wife, a former student with whom he had a passionate affair some years ago, that he loved his first wife deeply, and that he agonizes still over the thought that his sexual affairs hastened her death. Even Mrs. Barrington, a wealthy widow of ninety years who lives across the street from Alma and Boyd and who is the singularly most self-contained and most active force in the neighborhood, reveals to Alma near the end of the novel that her life’s activities have been a kind of replacement for the love she never received from her husband. The general pattern of the novel moves us, as slowly as life itself seems to have moved in small town America of the ‘50’s, from painful images of the many ways in which human love can be twisted and denied – yet deeply desired and needed at the same time – to a final sense of reconciliation in which three of Rainbow Center’s oldest residents – Alma, Boyd and their rich neighbor Mrs. Barrington – reassure themselves that love has been and is present in their lives, despite its fragile and uncertain qualities. In addition, two middle-aged residents – Faye Laird and Vernon Miller – decide to erase (or hide) their separate loneliness and pain by getting married. Positive feelings of affirmation are restrained in The Nephew but they are achieved nevertheless. 4. Conclusion Of course, this is all worlds apart from the kind of love portrayed in Romeo and Juliet. Love in The Nephew is so “thin,” so tentative and so long delayed. Why, then, do I offer it in comparison to Shakespeare’s exuberant and triumphant (even if tragically doomed) emotion? The answer to that question is that the two works seem to me to form a perfect contrast, a contrast that may deepen and enrich our understanding of the puzzling, compelling emotion we call love. Romeo and Juliet expressed one very real and constant human wish, a desire for passionate, reciprocal, totally consuming love. We can’t help holding this ideal in our minds. But, The Nephew shows us other faces of love – the ones which we experience much more often in real life – no less powerful or important, but muted, complicated and rewarding mostly in subtle, or even unexpected ways. Examples of this truth don’t seem necessary, somehow, because most of us live with these other faces of love on a daily basis throughout our lives. In other words, they are so familiar that they can go without saying. The main point seems to be that there can be no wrong way and no wrong place for love. It is everywhere and in every guise. Sometimes it can be simple, passionate and perfectly reciprocal. Most often, it is far more quiet, more fragile and more complicated, but no less deep and important in our lives. Thinking of the contrast with Romeo and Juliet, we are led to realize that this kind of love is also “for all times.” Bibliography Purdy, J. 1960. The Nephew. New York: Farrar, Straus & Giroux, Inc. Shakespeare, W. Romeo and Juliet, ed. J.E. Hankins. 1960. Baltimore, Maryland: Penguin Books Inc. Stipe Grgas university of Zadar Don DeLillo’s Mapping of the City Summary Taking as his point of departure the immense significance the city has for understanding the present moment and the special relationship the city has had with the novel, the author gives a reading of Don DeLillo and the way his work has engaged the city of New York. Focusing upon his last two novels, Underworld and Cosmopolis, the author describes how these two novels narrate the transformations the American city has undergone during the second part of the twentieth century. The bulk of his analysis deals with the function the Prologue flashback of the Bronx has in the earlier novel and the transformed city of late capitalism in his last text. The author concludes his reading by pointing out how DeLillo’s novels not only provide fictional accounts of what has occurred in the urban sphere but how they provide evidence of the difficulty of representing the contemporary world and how they foreground urgent political considerations. Key words: the city, the novel, perception, historical transformation, late capitalism Kartografska podoba mesta v prozi Don DeLilla Povzetek Izhodišče razprave izpostavlja pisateljev poseben odnos do mesta New York in načine njegovega umeščanja v pripovedno strukturo. Avtor prispevka se osredotoči na zadnja romana Don DeLilla, tj. Underworld (Podzemlje) in Cosmopolis, ter razčleni pripovedno preobrazbo New Yorka v drugi polovici dvajsetega stoletja. Osrednja obravnava je posvečena funkciji Prologa o Bronxu v zgodnjem romanu ter preobraženemu mestu poznega kapitalizma v zadnjem delu. Avtor sklene z ugotovitvijo, da romani Don DeLilla niso zgolj fikcijski oris urbanega okolja, ampak tudi ponazarjajo težavnost upodobitve sodobnega sveta in hkrati opozarjajo na nujnost politične presoje. Ključne besede: mesto, roman, percepcija, zgodovinska preobrazba, pozni kapitalizem Don DeLillo’s Mapping of the City 1. Introduction The timeliness and perhaps the urgency of the city as a subject of discussion and analysis can be gleaned from the succinct statement Neil Leach makes in introducing his book The Hieroglyphics of Space: reading and experiencing the modern metropolis: “To understand the metropolis is – to some extent – to understand our present age” (Leach 2002, 1). However, even in our global environment, neither question, namely when the present exactly is nor what constitutes a city, would yield answers that would muster universal consensus. In other words, one must approach these issues bearing in mind that they are culturally marked, differentiated by their geopolitical setting and historical period. The following reading of Don DeLillo’s last two novels I see as an installment in the story of the place of the city in United States culture and literature. Winthrop’s “city upon a Hill” has been routinely drawn upon as evidence that the rhetoric of the city was present at the originary moment of this polity’s emergence onto the historical scene. One could argue that the various takes on the American polity engage the difference between this utopian vision emblazoned on its founding moment and the actualization of the vision in historical urban realities. Literary works likewise partake of this dualism. There are, of course, works of literature supportive of the utopian, idealizing strain, proselytizing texts burdened and at times sunk under the ballast of ideological trappings. However, there are the more relevant achievements which work athwart the complacent acceptance of ideological justifications and their supportive projections. The ways that the city has figured in literature could doubtlessly be a source providing ample evidence of how these socio-cultural energies and political constellations have been aligned at different points of American history. In what follows I propose to trace a number of these points and their attendant spatial configurations and to delineate the position from which one of the most significant American novelists views present developments. 2. In his study The City in Literature (1998) Richard Lehan gives a historical survey of how this spatial configuration has been represented and used by authors belonging to different literary formations. Dealing with the same title on a more abstract level, Roland Barthes, in his article “Semiology and the Urban”, writes about the need “to work out the language of the city” and how it has been the writers who have been at the forefront of this task: “For the city is a poem, as has often been said and as Hugo said better than anyone else, but it is not a classical poem, a poem tidily centered on a subject. It is a poem which unfolds the signifier and it is this unfolding that ultimately the semiology of the city should try to grasp and make sing” (Gottdiener 1986, 97–8). Amongst the different literary genres it is the novel which seems to have a special relationship to the urban. Peter Middleton and Tim Woods write of this relationship in the following manner: The novel has a special relationship with the city, because it offers a ‘structure of feeling’ adequate to our experiences of abstract space. This discourse of ‘feeling’, of personal response, of subjective mood in relation to city experience, is part of the transformative power of fictional representations, because it structures our spatial awareness through a concretization of our everyday spatial consciousness….Representational concepts have become lived forms that govern our grasp of urban space. Fiction is able to mobilize emergent metaphors and rhetorical forms which have not yet become established enough to register on sociological screens (2000, 278). According to Middleton and Woods the very nature of fiction, its flexible ever-changing forms and strategies enables it “to catch-and-play with its representations of the city, now shaping it, now losing it, now being deluded by it” (ibid. 309). These different takes on the city as they are embodied in fictional narratives are not only symptoms of the changes that have occurred within literature itself but reflect and attempt to produce adequate representations of the transformations that have modified urban reality. 3. Readers familiar with Don DeLillo will easily recall the significance of New York for his work. If Peter Brooker, writing his study New York Fictions: Modernity, Postmodernism, The New Modern , could have had the two novels DeLillo wrote after its publication date (1996) at his disposal, namely Underworld (1997) and Cosmoplis (2003), there can be no doubt that DeLillo would figure more centrally in the study than he does as it now stands. It amounts to a platitude to observe that both of these novels evince a powerful fascination with the city. The second point I want to stress here and one which I believe is immensely important to our understanding of both DeLillo and of the city is that the reader can reconstruct from the last two novels a history of the transformations the city has undergone in recent history. Regarding this diachronic sweep, the novelist himself had prepared us for juxtaposing the passing of time and the city in his earlier novel Mao II where we find a statement highly relevant to the topic under discussion: “The city is a device for measuring time” (1991, 27). To put forward a thesis which I hope to substantiate by my analysis one could contend that unlike the abolishment of the historical sense in the fixation on the instantaneous in much postmodernist writing Delillo does not abandon the sense or the weight of history. This is the significance of his “longing”, of which more in what is to follow, both for a point in time and a spatial belonging in the past. Put in very general terms, my contention is that whereas a segment of Underworld contains a cognitive urban map, a point of apprehending the city as a totality, this is no longer the case in Cosmopolis. The way that the city, as a complex and changing spatial configuration, engages human perception and knowledge has received cross-disciplinary attention and study. Jonathan Hale writes that the sense of orientation springs from the imageability of the urban scene – the perpetual clarity and vividness of the characteristic spatial elements that allow their use by the inhabitant’s imagination. Once an overall framework has been constructed out of a series of distinctive and ‘legible’ components, any journey across the city can be measured according to its relationship to a relatively stable and complete ‘environmental image’ of the whole (in Leach 2002, 33). Looking at this description of the cognitive processes at work in the human confrontation with the city we can say that in DeLillo’s last two novels we can isolate a number of stages of the engagement with the city as an object of perception. In these texts this trajectory is initiated by a now lost moment when the city was still imagineable and continues to unfold as conditions for knowledge are in the process of disappearing or have already been erased. Both by its magnitude and by its thematic scope and complexity Underworld is the most ambitious of DeLillo’s novels. It is one of the latest installment of the intermittent attempts by American writers to produce the great American novel. As such it provides ample material to deploy various critical approaches both as far as its textuality is concerned but also as negotiating a relationship to its cultural context. On the present occasion I am more interested in the latter approach. My analysis is founded on the assumption that DeLillo inscribes an originating moment in the sweep of history which serves as the backdrop of his narrative and that the temporality of his narrative is profoundly implicated in what has taken place in the city during the second part of the twentieth century. This sprawling, panoramic text works with a number of structuralizing elements, two of which are the mythic baseball game played on the 3rd of October 1951 and the repeated elaboration of the tug of nostalgia felt by different characters for that historical period. Reengaging the text on the lookout for these thematic clusters one not only sees how they appear very early in the novel but how they are also related to the theme of the city. In the third paragraph of the novel the reader encounters the sentence “longing on a large scale is what makes history” as well as the indicative phrase “the body heat of a great city” (11) which DeLillo applies to the people flocking to the ballpark.1 The way the baseball game and the human dramas that accompany it are rendered can be described as a kind of communal ceremony. For instance, when DeDillo reverts to a panoramic sweep outside of the ballpark he paratactically lists different characters who, having tuned in to the game, create a network with a common reference point. Describing this network as “the game and its extensions” DeLillo writes of these “connected” nodes as “the game’s remoter soul” (32). What I would like to draw attention to is this sense of a sport ritual building a sense of togetherness. The winning homer “makes people want to be in the streets, joined with others” (47). One of the spectators, the boy Cotter who is the lucky catcher of the winning ball, walking Harlem, feels “a sense of placeness” (58). The sport announcer looking at the people leaving the field thinks  i like to draw attention to a parallel which doubtlessly adds a certain weight to both the place and the date DeLillo chose as the site of his nostalgic analepsis. namely, Marshall Berman on the very first page of his book All That Is Solid Melts Into Air mentions “the Bronx of thirty years ago” as the place producing his fascination with modernity. Since the book was originally published in  the dating of his fascina­tion roughly coincides with DeLillo’s nostalgic flashback. the relevance of this correspondence is given even greater weight by the fact that the description of what happened to the Bronx in the fifth chapter of his study (–3) gives a moving socio-historical reconstruction of processes fictionally rendered in the novel. that “they will carry something out of here that joins them all in a rare way, that binds them to a memory with protective power” (59). That observation, coming as it does at the end of the prologue, is important to my reading. To put it in very brief terms, what endows the spectators of the historical game with protective power is not only the sport result but, more importantly, the way that it is a pivotal point in conceiving of New York as an entity that can be experienced as a place where a sense of wholeness and community is still possible. The magnetic pull of both the experience delineated in the Prologue and its homogenizing impact on the city is replayed on another thematic level in the second part of the novel where Nick Shade meets a woman from his past. Their intimate experience was consummated in the Bronx of his adolescence, and that confluence of a place and a time is succinctly stated in the following remark: “You know how certain places grow powerful in the mind with passing time” (74). The function of the evocation of the old neighborhood – particularly as it relates to developments set chronologically later in the narrative – can be seen when Nick speaks of the “responsibility in the real”. Emphatically stating that he “lived in the real” he continues: “The only ghosts I let in were local ones, the smoky traces of people I knew and the dinge of my own somber shadow, New York ghosts in every case, the old loud Bronx, hand-to-mouth, spoken through broken teeth” (82). One way of understanding this tug of what has disappeared is to say that it serves as a kind of antidote to the growing non-reality of the new dispensation. If one recalls the pivotal significance DeLillo assigns to the Kennedy assassination2 the significance of opening Underworld with the ballgame and what he attributes to it cannot be overestimated: When JFK was shot, people went inside. We watched TV in dark rooms and talked on the phone with friends and relatives. We were all separate and alone. But when Thomson hit the homer, people rushed outside. People wanted to be together. Maybe it was the last time people spontaneously went out of their houses for something (94). Juxtaposed as they are these two scenes imply a set of oppositions (separate/together, private space/public space) which signal a historical trajectory that is of immense significance in fathoming what has happened within the American city. Part II, aptly titled “Elegy for Left Hand Alone”, reverts to the old neighborhood but at a later date (mid-1980s – early-1990s) and through a number of focalizations of people still living there, immobilized by as they are the tug of the past, shows a blighted cityscape which has become a destination (“South Bronx Surreal”) for sightseeing Europeans (247). The change that has befallen the locality is mirrored at one point in the ethnically marked renaming of the borough as “El Bronx” (196). Changes, as far as the positioning of the human within the  the decision to write Libra () was doubtlessly prompted by the importance he attributes to this event. the following remark from the book needs no additional comment: “He has abandoned his life to understanding that moment in Dallas, the seven seconds that broke the back of the american century” (). urban environment, have also occurred. Instead of the Prologue’s sense of belonging we read of Marvin’s “sense of being lost in America, wandering through cities with no downtowns” (176). The sense of loss is signalized by the use of the past tense when Matty is told that “these were your streets” (213). The function of the Prologue, the way that it had inscribed a particular point of departure and the way it stands as an older center set against the sprawl into which America is developing, can be read in the following passages: “I always thought they lived in the East. I thought this is where all the remembering is done” (322). Even more to the point is another observation: This happened back East of course. I’ve heard that term a lot since coming to this part of the country. But I never think of the term as a marker of geography. It’s a reference to time, a statement about time, about all the densities of being and experience, it’s time disguised, it’s light-up time, shifting smoky time tricked out as some locus of stable arrangement (333). Nick’s ruminations refer to the accretions of affective investments in the older eastern habitats in contradistinction to the more recent urban developments. However, the point to keep in mind is that the former sites have also been affected by forces which DeLillo is at pains to uncover and describe in his last two novels. The opening scene of Part IV set on a New York rooftop evokes a city that has picked up momentum and that has developed a more complex circulation. Klara Sax finds a hidden city above the grid of fever streets. Walk and Don’t Walk. Ten million bobbing heads that ride the tideline of taxi stripes, all brainwaved differently, and yes the street abounds in idiosyncrasy, in the human veer, but you have to go to roof level to see the thing distinct, preserved in masonry and brass (371). Placing this passage on the backdrop of the earlier community-like wholeness it is evident that the cityscape has undergone profound changes. The streets are fevered and the pedestrians are not attuned to a communal event but diversified and varied. A little later in the novel the difficulty the changed outlay and motion of the city imposes upon human perception is set in explicit terms: She realized how rare it was to see what stands before you, what a novelty of basic sensation in the grinding life of the city – to look across a measured space and be undistracted by signs and streetlights and taxis and scaffolding, by your own bespattered mind, sorting the data, and by the energy that hurrying people make, lunch crowds and buses and bike messengers, all that consciousness powering down the flumes of Manhattan so that it becomes impossible to see across a street to the turquoise tiles of some terra-cotta façade, a winged beast carved above the lintel (379). The mind “bespattered” by the hectic activity of the city and how it signals a distance, both temporal and spatial, from the scene evoked in the Prologue indicates not only the changes that have taken place but also how these tax human perception. Some additional examples will show how this practice of collocating different historical embodiments of urban space is a pervasive facet of DeLillo’s narrative strategy. In one of the fragments making up the fifth part of the novel Edgar Hoover, one of the spectators of the historical game, overlooks Central Park and grows “nostalgic” gazing up “where the earth curved toward Harlem”, that is, in the direction of the now defunct ballpark. In another fragment, staged during the famous electrical failure on the Eastern American seaboard, Nick meets an acquaintance from the old Bronx neighborhood who tells him that he goes back to the old place but that he notices changes: “See it now. It’s disappearing” (620). The analepsis (Fall 1951– Summer 1952) making up part six of the novel presents a broader social panorama and fills in information about events that have befallen some of the characters. On the very first page the Bronx is designated as a “compact neighborhood” (661) but already the focalizer of the opening scene anticipates that the street “filled with children playing” will be intruded upon: “With cars, more cars, with the status hunger, the hot horsepower, the silver smash of chrome, Bronzini saw that the pressure to free the streets of children would make even these designated areas extinct” (662). The evocation of the fragility of this environment and how it cannot resist powerful forces transforming society is reinforced in the proleptic vision which follows: “He imagined a fragment of chalked pavement cut clean and lifted out and elaborately packed – hipped to some museum in California where it would share the hushed sunlight with marble carvings from antiquity. Street drawing, hopscotch, chalk on paved asphalt, Bronx, 1951” (662). The Epilogue entitled “Das Kapital” with its initial statement that “Capital burns off the nuance in a culture” (785) emphatically names the “status hunger” and “pressure” which Bronzini foreglimpses in his street vision, inaugurating the theme of international finance which figures in the final section but, more to the purpose of my reading, updating the context in which the Bronx is depicted in the closing movement of the novel. Namely, the dilapidated Bronx of the final sequence of the text and Esmeralda’s tragedy narrated there are mediated through the internet. The confluence of the power of capital flows and the newest technologies and the way these are imbricated one in the other provide the departing shot of Don DeLillo’s voyage through the last fifty years of American history. The perplexity which I read from the questions located near the end of the novel – “[is] cyberspace a thing within the world or is it the other way around? Which contains the other, and how can you tell for sure’”(826) – further exacerbates the difficulty of apprehending and coming to terms with a world, a world of the city, which I have attempted to contour in this reading. Let me bring these considerations of Underworld to a close with the description of the position of the advertising sign on which apparitions of the murdered girl are drawing pilgrims from the city: “scaffolded high above the riverbank and meant to attract the doped-over glances of commuters on the trains that run incessantly down from the northern suburbs into the thick of Manhattan money and glut” (818). Laying aside the possible ways of interpreting the function of these seances within the novel I draw attention to the description of the in-between nature of the Bronx, disempowered between the northern suburbia and the hub of capital. One way of understanding what DeLillo is doing in his is his embarking on a journey into the “money and glut” of Manhattan. Structurally speaking, Cosmopolis (2003) updates the motive of the flaneur who as a character reading the street and its spectacle as a decipherable text has had a prominent role in the literature of the city. However, instead of the earlier stroller Don DeLillo provides us with a late, motorized version of this character type placed in a cityscape which seems to confound his powers of apprehension. The surface narrative of the novel follows the journey by limousine of Eric Packer, a powerful currency broker, from his forty-eight-room apartment on the East Side of Manhattan to his encounter with his nemesis-to-be Benno in the blighted dock area of Manhattan’s “Hell’s Kitchen”. The stalled crawl of the car through the clotted streets of midtown Manhattan, signaled by references to street names and neighborhood, unrolls scenes from the multifaceted urban experience. The “crosstown” drive provides a skeletal framework within which the text maps the city’s physical layout, its differentiated functions, its social distinctions and relics of its temporal palimpsest. It would not be difficult to chart on a New York City map the drive from Second Avenue (13) to Eleventh Avenue, “the last block before the river” (179). The progress of the narrated April day in the year 2000 is charted out along a recognizable route. The cityscape unfolding before the moving car, intermittently halted by Eric Packer’s personal and professional commitments but also by different events taking place on the streets, is not only rendered as a physical given but also as a scene of social practice. Thusly we read of the “diamond district” which, still dealing with palpable objects of exchange, in the opinion of the financial wizard “was an offense to the truth of the future” (64). Further on, the limousine presses through “the theatre district” while bouncing heavy trucks heading downtown bring to the mind “the garment district or the meatpacking docks” (82–3). DeLillo strikes a social note when he has “the others of the street, endless anonymous” (20) obtrude upon the protected and privileged car space of the main character. The stalking killer out to get Eric is in part motivated by his sense of suffered injustice (“I was generic labor to them” (60)). Finally, the drive to the old West Side neighborhood can be seen as a stepping back into time to “a particular place, where elapsed time hangs in the air, suffusing solid objects and men’s faces. This is where he felt safe” (166). The fact that both Eric’s self-destructive binge and his encounter with his murderer occur in this neighborhood show not only how deluded the character was in his feeling of safety but that the old neighborhood as an enabling space is simply no longer there. The city as portrayed in Cosmopolis is not only bereft of an enabling locus and partitioned into variousfunctionsbuthas,mostimportantly,itselfbecomeafunction ofthepowerfulflowofglobal capital. In a telling remark the association of the city with capital is put in the following terms: “These were scenes that normally roused him, the great rapacious flow, where the physical will of the city, the ego fevers, the assertions of industry, commerce and crowds shape every anecdotal moment” (41). I would wager the notion that the oxymoronic phrase, “physical will”, reveals DeLillo’s inability to narrativize the interface between capital and the urban. The main character, negotiating the cryptic space of capital flows, is ultimately baffled by its waywardness just as his attention is taxed by the concrete manifestation of money power. Looking up at the bank towers Eric ruminates: “They weren’t here, exactly. They were in the future, a time beyond geography and touchable money and the people who stack and count it” (36). In another scene, a view of “the electronic display of market information” on a building prompts the following observation: “Financial news, stock prices, currency markets. The action was unflagging. The hellbent sprint of numbers and symbols, the fractions, decimals, stylized dollar signs, the streaming release of words, of multinational news, all too fleet to be absorbed” (80). Putting these two excerpts alongside each other highlights two interrelated motifs which I believe are very significant for understanding what Delillo sought to capture in his last novel. In the first quotation we read of the erasure of place, a “time beyond geography” as he puts it, which is definitely one of the ways of reading the thematic import of Cosmopolis. In the second quotation, we read that the velocity of financial information is such that it incapacitates comprehension, simply disables mental absorption. Stated differently, we can say that the language of the city has broken free of its geographical reference. When DeLillo writes of money that possibility is put in straightforward terms: “Because money has taken a turn. All wealth has become wealth for its own sake. There’s no other kind of enormous wealth. Money has lost its narrative quality the way painting did once upon a time. Money is talking to itself” (77). If we keep in mind the close connection DeLillo establishes in his last two novels between the city and capital one could say that, under the impact of what has occurred in the sphere of finance, the city has also lost its “narrative quality”, that its present state incapacitates decipherment and understanding. In Cosmopolis New York has become a kind of absent signifier, an absent semantic matrix that can no longer contain the fragmented, piecemeal segments, that are no longer anchored within the city itself but are blips on a glutted informational screen. 4. At this point it would be worthwhile noting to what extent DeLillo’s observations are in tune with insights reached by scholars dealing more strictly with the urban problematic within a recognizable socio-economic system. To give but one example, I offer an excerpt from David Harvey’s Article “The Urban Process Under Capitalism”: Under capitalism, there is then a perpetual struggle in which capital builds a physical landscape appropriate to its own condition at a particular moment in time, only to have to destroy it, usually in the course of crises, at a subsequent point in time. The temporal and geographical ebb and flow of investment in the built environment can be understood only in terms of such a process (Harvey 1978, 124.) Keeping this description of the imbrication of capital and space in mind one can say that, on one level, DeLillo’s work has focused on how it has played itself out during the last half of the twentieth century within the American city. Launching out in Underworld with a cityscape that is characterized by a sense of neighborhood, a condition in which the urban can be experienced as a human habitat, the chronological order of the novel presents moments of transformation eventuating in dispersal and disruption. It is on the background of this disruptive momentum, the way that the forces of capital impact on urban space and on the psycho-emotional investment city dwellers have in that space, that we understand DeLillo’s intentions in writing Cosmopolis. The bafflement produced by emerging forms of communication and unleashed forces of capital which is foreground in the closing section of Underworld provide the framework within which DeLillo deploys his narrative in the later novel. To return to the topic under discussion, in Cosmopolis the city is no longer a discrete and readable spatial configuration but is networked as a unit, albeit a very important unit, within the global circulation of capital. I would contend that DeLillo’s choice of title for his last novel opens up a number of ways of understanding both his positioning in relation to these developments and the placement of the novel within a broader cultural context. Namely the word “cosmopolis” – as Stephen Toulmin uses it in his study bearing the same title – designates the overall human order at specific points of historical development (Toulmin 1990). Going by this definition, one could say that the two novels dealt with on the present occasion stage what Toulmin terms “the demolition of the modern cosmopolis” (ibid., 160). One would have to enter a caveat here and specify that DeLillo is primarily focused upon how this process has unfolded within the US polity. On this more specific level, there are numerous references in these texts to phenomena and developments which Edward Soja, for instance, dwells upon and reads as the trasformation of the modern metropolis into a cosmopolis, the world city of late capitalism (Soja 2000). If both of these meanings of the word are relevant to the title of DeLillo’s novel the designation that cannot be associated with his choice of title is the image of the cosmopolis as an imagined postmodern Utopia in the sense that Leoni Sandercock uses the word (Sandercock 1998). Keeping in mind these three optional readings, we can say that his endeavour to make an all-embracing pronouncement upon the present stage of the American project, its “overall human order”, registers present actualities, inscribed as these are in particular configurations of spatiality but that he distances himself from what he sees. . Conclusion That critical distance, which spans the gamut from nostalgia to “bespattered” incomprehension, helps us situate Don DeLillo within his literary and cultural context. Unlike those who, networked into the information age and unbaffled by its overload of images and messages, celebrate its potential DeLillo, in my opinion, stands athwart its dizzying swirl, painfully aware of a loss of ground from which to humanly relate to the transformed environment. Although in Cosmopolis DeLillo appears to plunge into the contemporary the novel evinces certain structural features which reveal not only the perplexing complexity of the present but also the difficulty of narrating it. The strongest evidence for this would be those cogent statements whichTom Shippey in his review of Cosmopolis labels as “inscrutable sayings” strewn throughout the novel (Shippey 2003, 23). These comments, although relevant to the theme, seem not really worked into the texture of the narrative. For instance, in the skirmish scene with the anti-globalists DeLillo gives a variant of Marx’ famous quotation but then goes on to explain: “He recognized the variation on the famous first sentence of The Communist Manifesto in which Europe is haunted by the spectre of communism, circa 1850” (96). The reader has to ask for whom are these didactic explanations intended. Has reality become so inscrutable, so recalcitrant to making it intelligible through story, that there is no way of accounting for it except through succinct explanations superimposed onto the narrative? Or is DeLillo drawing attention to the pertinence of accounts of capital and power whose explanatory potential and political relevance seem to have been submerged under the glitter and the disembodied transactions of seemingly self-generating currency flows on screens the world over? My reading has attempted to show how a focusing upon the special relationship the city has had with the novel yields a mapping of the urban in the work of one of the most important contemporary American novelists which, in its turn, places on the agenda political questions of enormous weight and urgency. Bibliography Berman, M. 1983. All That Is Solid Melts Into Air. London: Verso. Brooker, P. 1996. New York Fictions: Modernity, Postmodernism, The New Modern. London: Longman. DeLillo, D. 1988. Libra. New York. Penguin. – – –. 1991. Mao II. New York: Penguin. – – –. 1997. Underworld. New York: Scribner. – – –. 2003. Cosmopolis. London: Picador. Gottdiener, M., and A. Lagopoulos, eds. 1986. The City and the Sign: An Introduction to Urban Semiotics. New York: Columbia University Press. Harvey, D. 1978. The Urban Process under Capitalism. International Journal of Urban and Regional Research 2: 101–31. Leach, N., ed. 2002. The Hieroglyphics of Space: Reading and Experiencing the Modern Metropolis. London: Routledge. Lehan, R. 1998. The City in Literature: An Intellectual and Cultural History. Berkeley: University of California Press. Middleton, P., and T. Woods, 2000. Literatures of Memory: History, Time and Space in Postwar Writing. Manchester: Manchester University Press. Sandercock, L. 1998. Towards Cosmopolis. Planning for Multicultural Cities. Chichester: John Wiley and Sons. Shippey, T. 2003. Cooling Connections. TLS (May) 2: 23. Soja, E. 2000. Postmetropolis. Critical Studies in Cities and Regions. London: Blackwell. Toulmin, S. 1990. Cosmopolis. The Hidden Agenda of Modernity. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press. Victor Kennedy university of Maribor Faculty of education, Department of english and american Studies Astronomical References in Chaucer: What Can Modern Students Learn from Studying Ancient Texts? Summary One of the problems in the field of English literature studies is that, with compartmentalization and specialization, it becomes introspective to the point where it devolves into the study of metafiction and metacriticism. At its heart, however, literature has to be about something: Thackeray claimed its subject is human nature, but human nature is based in the interface between human and nature. This paper explores some of the problems in the interface between human knowledge, institutions, and nature, and will offer an example of cross-disciplinary, historical study to illustrate a well-known but, to most modern readers, impenetrable medieval text, Chaucer’s Treatise on the Astrolabe. It ends with three recommendations: look to history, cross boundaries between academic fields, and use practical, as well as theoretical, teaching methods. Key words: Chaucer astronomy, astrology, astrolabe Astronomski napotki pri Chaucerju: česa se lahko današnji študenti naučijo iz starih besedil? Povzetek Eden izmed problemov študija angleške književnosti je njegova introspektivna usmerjenost v raziskovanje metafikcije in metakritike, ki je posledica drobljenja stroke na specializirane in področne interese. V osnovi, namreč, književnost nujno govori o nečem. Thackeray trdi, da je njegov predmet človeška narava, toda ta je odvisna od medsebojnosti človeškosti in narave. Prispevek se dotika nekaterih vprašanj povezanosti človeškega védenja, institucij in narave ter predstavi primer meddiscipinarne, zgodovinske obravnave znanega, a večini bralcev nedoumljivega srednjeveškega besedila Geoffreyja Chaucherja z naslovom Treatise on the Astrolabe. Avtor sklene svoje razmišljanje s tremi priporočili: upoštevaj zgodovino, glej čez meje akademskih polj in uporabljaj praktične pa tudi teoretske metode učenja. Ključne besede: astronomija, astrologija in astrolab pri Chaucerju Astronomical References in Chaucer: What Can Modern Students Learn from Studying Ancient Texts? 1. Introduction When we study Chaucer’s Miller’s Tale in my first year medieval English literature course, I find that many of my students know quite a lot about astrology, but very few of them know anything about astronomy. I find this distressing: it has often been argued that the imbalance in knowledge, and concurrent clinging to ancient superstitions and junk science, is a symptom of a breakdown in our educational system. In contrast, Florence Grimm pointed out in 1919 that Chaucer himself knew more about astronomy than the average modern person does (Grimm 1970, 3); in a series of essays, Edgar Laird and Donald Olson have demonstrated that astronomical references in Chaucer’s works are accurate and based on observation, not on second-hand sources (Laird and Olson 1990; Laird and Olson 1996). This paper will explore some of the problems past and present that have caused lapses in our knowledge and weaknesses in our educational system, and will propose a solution based on practical applications of historical and cross-disciplinary instruction, using the example of Chaucer’s Treatise on the Astrolabe. 2. Post-Enlightenment mythology tells us that we have progressed from the time of the “Dark Ages”, but anyone who reads medieval literature knows that this claim is often exaggerated. Our knowledge has suffered, and continues to suffer, periods of setback caused by wars, political pressure, and wilful ignorance. Scientific progress, like knowledge in general, has not been steady or linear, but instead has consisted of giant leaps of understanding built on discoveries that changed our world view in a generation or less, followed by eras of steady progress built on these insights, and, sadly, times of reversal. The history of science shows non-linear progress interrupted by divergence within belief systems, which can be roughly characterized as conflicts between science and superstition, innovation and tradition, and discovery and authority, both within the scientific community and within society in general. Progress is encouraged by educational approaches based on the scientific method: new ideas are tested by peer review and constant re-evaluation of current theory; students and scientists learn by doing, and from their mistakes. Progress is slowed by vested interests in politics, the Church, and business; by dogma, hidden agendas, secrecy, and “saving the appearances” (Koestler 1989, 51); and by educational methods that depend on memorization of officially sanctioned works of authorities, which are often both written and published by committee (Gingerich 1990). It is often lamented that in the modern world there is a perceived split between the sciences and the arts resulting in a lack of progress, or even regression, caused by weaknesses in the educational system; some argue that the break is historical, caused by the Church during the Renaissance; others that because of the ever-increasing amount of knowledge, it is impossible to become expert in and stay abreast of new developments in more than one field. While there is some truth to these arguments, the schism is essentially a voluntary one, caused by lazy thinking and teaching habits, and essentially illusory. It is clear, though, that in many countries, fewer students pursue the sciences, and many people know little about science. Thus, even otherwise well-educated people still today hold on to outmoded beliefs and superstitions, despite the availability of modern scientific education. History shows that mistaken beliefs have been held for long periods of time. Such mistakes can stem from lack of knowledge, but often they persist even after better explanations for observed phenomena have been proposed. This seems irrational, but there are often conflicting influences at work. In his history of science entitled The Sleepwalkers, Arthur Koestler gives a non-scientist’s view of astronomy from ancient Greece to Newton. ThemainconflictinKoestler’saccountofthehistoryofastronomyisthatbetweentheproponents of an earth-centred and a heliocentric universe. Aristarchus (310 B.C.) proposed a theory of the heliocentric universe, but the philosophical, religious and scientific establishments preferred the more conservative views of Plato and Aristotle, and Aristarchus’s heliocentric theory was ignored for 1700 years until Copernicus. In the face of observational evidence, one is tempted to ask, how could scholars ignore the evidence in front of them? Koestler maintains that there was a “divorce of reason from belief” (Koestler 1989, 53) in the thinking of Plato and Aristotle. At the end of the age of Greek culture and civilization, leaders and intellectuals preferred to focus on ideals instead of reality. Later, Roman thinkers were more interested in politics and military theory than abstract philosophy and science, and scientific discovery took a back seat to the requirements of political and military leaders for astrological predictions. After the fall of Rome, scholarship found a refuge in the Arab world, but Arab scholars also focused on practical measurement rather than cosmological theory. When classical learning was reintroduced to the west by Arab scholars around the 13th century, cosmological speculation began to flourish again, but for three centuries logical, simple systems were obscured by dogma. 3. As modern readers, we are tempted to question the motives and abilities of our ancestors, for with hindsight it is easy to look on their elaborate systems of epicycles and equants, compare them to the simpler model of the heliocentric universe, and ask how they could have so deceived themselves. Robert Park argues that many people partook of a kind of wilful blindness, a “controlled schizophrenia” (Koestler 1989, 77), which in its modern form Park describes as “pathological science”(Park 2000, 9). The Christian worldview of the Church was so strong that mathematicians and physicists were forced to compartmentalize their thinking to accommodate both their scientific and religious beliefs. This led to the technique of “saving the appearances”, a privileging of theory over observational evidence (Koestler 1989, 77). Contrary to popular modern belief, however, Renaissance scholars were seldom persecuted by the Church for their scientific research, but were actually encouraged in their work. Most of the time, science and religion coexisted peacefully; the Jesuits, for example, were among the foremost astronomical researchers of the Renaissance. But there were extreme cases: “saving the appearances” came to a head during the trial of Galileo, who was urged by Pope Urban to continue to research, publish, and teach his theories concerning the Copernican universe, so long as he made it clear that this theory was only hypothetical. Galileo refused, and precipitated the banning not only of his own works, but those of Copernicus as well. Despite Galileo’s later recantation, the resulting schism between science and religion became practical, not merely theoretical, and has lasted ever since. 4. In the history of ideas, the balance has often tipped back and forth between scientific and religious belief systems. One famous example of a balanced outlook is that of Johannes Kepler, who was driven to his discoveries by strong religious beliefs; in the search, which a modern commentator would probably consider mistaken, for a harmonious relationship of spheres, he discovered the three laws which provided Newton, another devoutly religious man, the foundations of his revolutionary system of physics. Newton and Kepler, though, were able to accept the results of their work. Not all of us are so open-minded, and conflict occurs when we are unable to discard outmoded ideas and prejudices. Some current reasons for widespread misunderstandings in and about science have recently been characterized by Park as “voodoo science”; Park’s thesis is that many people are misled, not solely by the difficulties of modern science, but by inadvertent and wilful ignorance. Park defines three categories of voodoo science: pathological science, junk science, and pseudoscience. “[S]cientists, no less than others, are inclined to see what they expect to see ... This is pathological science, in which scientists manage to fool themselves”; junk science uses “arguments deliberately intended to befuddle jurists or lawmakers with little or no scientific background” and “consists of tortured theories of what could be so, with little supporting evidence to prove that it is so”; finally, “Ancient beliefs in demons and magic still sweep across the modern landscape, but now they are dressed in the language and symbols of science ...This is pseudoscience. Its practitioners may believe it to be science, just as witches and faith healers may truly believe they can call forth supernatural powers” (Park 2000, 9–10). Common acceptance of voodoo science results from the extreme separation of and boundaries erected between intellectual disciplines. Many scientists, for example, know little about law, and many lawyers and judges know little about science. Important court cases can be decided on the basis of expert testimony, but both sides to a dispute can find expert witnesses to testify in support of either side of an argument. Laymen, unfamiliar with a field of knowledge, find it impossible to decide among competing expert testimonies. Breakdowns between fields of knowledge can lead to denigration of the value of other ways of viewing the world. Those who feel threatened by other viewpoints often retreat into extreme reactionary conservatism. One might think that the attitudes of rigid conservatism and the willingness to impose them on educational systems evident during the Middle Ages and Renaissance are a thing of the past, but a look at the news and any time spent in a university shows this is not true. Dependence on established authority is not limited to authoritarian regimes, as can be seen in current debates in the United States between scientists and religious conservatives about such topics as the teaching of evolutionary theory and “creation science” in schools. For example: Irritated that his state earned an A for its treatment of evolution in science education from the Fordham Foundation’s study Good Science, Bad Science: Teaching Evolution in the States, authored by science education expert Dr. Lawrence Lerner, South Carolina Senate Republican Mike Fair has introduced legislation in the hopes of downgrading the state’s ranking. Senate Bill 153 calls for creating a 19-member committee that would hear testimony from top scientists and report to the General Assembly on “whether alternatives to evolution as the origin of species should be offered in schools,” reported The Greenville News on May 1, 2003 (Scott, May 8, 2003). In another example, school boards in Kansas recently replaced the teaching of evolution with instruction in “creation science” (i.e., the “theory” that God created the world in six days, 4,000 years ago) in some districts which, according to many university faculty members and admissions officers, greatly decreases the likelihood that graduates of such schools would obtain admission to most American universities (Smillie 2000). 5. The attempt to silence scientists and replace science teaching with fundamentalist religious instruction is not limited to Middle Eastern theocracies, but while trying to turn back the clock on the modern world may be comforting to those who feel threatened by technological progress, it is, as Jared Diamond argues in Guns, Germs, and Steel: the Fates of Human Societies, a recipe for disaster (Diamond 1999). While studying alternatives to accepted theories is an accepted way to test them, trying to ignore them is not. Taking a historical perspective, however, puts current thoughts, attitudes and beliefs into a larger context and not only shows how we got to where we are today, but gives us an opportunity to learn from the mistakes and successes of the past. By looking to history we can see how our current situation arose, and how fields of knowledge have diverged. One way to constructively understand the modern world is to study the knowledge and methods of the past, and to try to recreate the predecessors of modern tools and instruments, to better comprehend how we arrived at our current state of knowledge. The astrolabe, for example, is an ancient astronomical instrument that connects East and West, past and present, and, in Chaucer’s writing, science and art, the three main connections that comprise the subject of this essay. The astrolabe, an instrument that could reasonably be said to be the predecessor of both the clock and the computer, was one of the most important instruments available to astronomers for over a millennium, from its development around the beginning of the 5th century until the 18th century. Reading its history gives an overview of the development of science, mathematics, and engineering over the last 1500 years; using one gives insight into the basics of what used to be called celestial mechanics, and into the way scientists and humanists of the middle ages and Renaissance perceived the world around them. An early Arabic treatise on the astrolabe was written in Baghdad by ‘Ali ibn ‘Isa, one of Caliph al-Ma’mun’s astronomers, and later Arabic treatises describe how the instrument could be used to solve problems in astrology, astronomy and timekeeping. Many of these treatises were translated into Latin in the 12th and 13th centuries, and in about 1390, these formed the sources for Geoffrey Chaucer’s Treatise on the Astrolabe (Gingerich 1986). 6. Chaucer’s Treatise is an example of a body of scientific knowledge brought into one culture’s scientific heritage from another through translation. However, in writing a practical manual, Chaucer depended as much on the physical astrolabe before him as on his sources for his writing, and he corrected some errors and questioned the assumptions of his sources (thus avoiding some of the errors of modern textbook writers (Gingerich 1990; Pasachoff 1990; Chandler 1999). Chaucer’s Treatise was an exercise in science education, not a work of scientific discovery. In the Preface, Chaucer addresses the work to his son, Lewis, and explains that he is writing this work because his son is too young to understand Latin or Greek, but is old enough to understand the scientific principles behind the use of the astrolabe. That this is in fact an instructional text is further emphasized by the reference in Part I to a “sphere”, a globe which Chaucer had used to show Lewis the motions of the Sun, Moon, and planets. It is clear from the scale of the gradations on its rete (the rotating scale on the front of the astrolabe) and face that the astrolabe Chaucer gave Lewis was a small, student model, not a large one of the type used by professional astronomers of the time. Chaucer was not a scientist, but a scholarly man in the modern sense of the term “Renaissance man”. He was a courtier, poet, and administrator, for much of his career charged with the responsibility of the customs office, in his early life a soldier, and in his later, a diplomat. The range and depth of his knowledge is formidable. He was also a translator, as shown by the fact that A Treatise on the Astrolabe mentions his sources, Compositio et Operatio Astrolabii, by Messahala, an 8th century Arabian astronomer, and De Sphaera, by John de Sacrobosco, both available to Chaucer in Latin. Unlike many of his contemporaries, Chaucer had a critical view of “authorities” and the concepts they promoted: while he quoted and approved of his scientific sources, in the Treatise he refuted the practice and theory of astrology, as he did elsewhere in “The Franklin’s Tale”, one of the fictional Canterbury Tales: another craft. . . Of the operations touching the eight and twenty mansions that longen to the Moone, and swich foleye as in oure days is nat worth a flye (ll. 1133–36) In the introduction to the Treatise, Chaucer announces that the finished work will contain five parts: Part I is a description of the astrolabe (this is in effect an instruction manual to accompany the astrolabe that Chaucer had given his son) and the function of all its parts. Part II is a series of 40 practical exercises, much like the problems set in a modern-day physics or astronomy textbook. These problems and solutions are exercises for using the astrolabe to find times, latitudes, longitude, the position of the Sun, Moon, and stars, and predictions of their positions. An additional set of problems was added in a supplement in 1397, including exercises based on geometrical measurement of the height of buildings using the Sun’s shadow. Unfortunately, the Treatise was never finished; Robinson speculates that this may have been because of the death of Chaucer’s son before the work was finished, but records from the 14th century are incomplete, and there is some controversy over this. It may be that, as with The Canterbury Tales, Chaucer just never found the time to complete it. The introduction goes on to describe three more parts that were never written, or, if they were, have not survived. Part III was to be a table of longitudes and latitudes of fixed stars; a table of declinations for the Sun; tables of longitudes for cities and towns; tables for setting clocks, to find the altitude meridian. Part IV was to be a theory of celestial motions, including a table of the motions of the Moon and planets. Part V was to be a theory of astrology, and, given his comments elsewhere, one can speculate that this was intended to be a more complete debunking. Interestingly, Chaucer’s poetic works make extensive use of themes, characters, and motifs from classical mythology and astrology at the same time his prose works, and to some extent, his fictional narrators, satirize contemporary belief in them. As a courtier, he was writing to please an audience, part of which was more credulous than he was himself, but which contained some very sophisticated listeners, including the king himself; today his work is appealing for its subtle use of irony and satire, which his audience may or may not have grasped. As with modern fiction, this does suggest that Chaucer saw fiction as operating on different truth-rules from other modes of writing. Certainly his Treatise, addressed to his own son, is neither satiric nor ironic, but clear and plain-spoken in both its scientific instruction and its criticism of astrology. 7. An example of Chaucer’s mixture of narrative modes, common in medieval and Renaissance literature, can be seen in his poetic dream vision, The House of Fame. For the most part an allegory on fame and vanity, Part II contains a meditation on perception and understanding based on scientific principles (ll. 729–82) in which notions of gravity recognizable to anyone familiar with modern-day physics are related to the philosophy of Aristotle and Plato, and then to the kind of analogy and metaphor used in literature and common knowledge. In this section Chaucer explains, as do modern literary theorists and psychologists, how we use analogies based on what we already know in order to understand what we don’t. For example, in lines 788–821 Chaucer uses waves spreading in a pond as an analogy for the spreading of knowledge (and rumour). In lines 935–63 he points to astronomical references to the Milky Way in ancient myth, and in 990–1018 he mentions the sources of astronomical references and names in mythology and poetry. Combining scientific, literary, and popular cultural modes was a technique used in the nineteenth century by writers such as Coleridge to explore difficult issues in philosophy, and today popular science writers and scientists who write in order to popularize scientific concepts still favour this method. An excellent example can be seen in the writings of biologist Stephen Jay Gould, who uses architectural metaphors to illustrate principles of evolution (Gould and Lewontin 1979). In research, as well as education, there is cross-fertilization of ideas between disciplines. Koestler wrote approvingly of the use of different modes of thought in research, and concluded that it is an essential part of scientific discovery. Philosophers, as well as poets, have often written of the benefits of metaphor and analogy in imaginative creativity. This is where the astrolabe can come in handy in developing imagination and creativity. Modern science and technology have progressed far past the stage where an astrolabe is of any practical use for navigators or astronomers, but it can still be of use for teachers, not only in the sciences, but the arts as well to illustrate and help visualize basic concepts that can be obscured by instruments using more advanced technology. Today’s research projects use giant telescopes and space telescopes, and collect data at many wavelengths, while astronomy education uses the internet, as well as planetarium and simulation software, and amateurs and home educators have access to computers, telescopes, and equipment far more advanced than that available even to professional scientists of previous centuries. On the other hand, one could argue that our culture is so dependent on technology that our use of technology interferes with, or masks deficiencies in, real understanding. Using a simpler technology from a time long past can clarify some of the principles that modern instruments can hide. There are strong arguments in favour of learning the basics well. Many teachers hurry through their lessons quickly, citing the need to cover the curriculum for the mandatory final examinations. As a result, unfortunate students who cannot keep up or fall behind for some reason become hopelessly lost and confused. In the end they learn nothing but a dislike of the subject, and forget everything they have crammed and memorized for examinations in the “ram, remember, regurgitate” system (Gadpaille 2004). A different philosophy of education concentrates on the quality of material learned over quantity. Learning basic concepts well provides a foundation, as well as a motivation for later, possibly independent, learning. Owen Gingerich’s idea of learning by using the historical method is shared by many science teachers who use astrolabes in elementary and high school science courses (Gingerich 1990). Plans for building these are available on many school web sites, along with exercises that illustrate their use. A working reproduction made of laminated cardboard is available from Janus, an American company, together with an instruction manual very much like Chaucer’s, although written in modern English. One can see the resemblance here between medieval humanistic instruction and contemporary student-centred teaching. The Janus astrolabe comes in a package containing two laminated cardboard astrolabes, a classical reproduction of the kind used in Chaucer’s time, the other a modern adaptation, with a diameter of 18 centimetres, and a 57 page instruction manual. The astrolabe is configured for the user’s latitude and longitude. Features and operation are described and explained in the text, which contains an introduction to the astrolabe, followed by a description which includes instructions on how to read an astrolabe with explanations of the altitude/azimuth plate, rete, ecliptic and rule. Figure 1: Janus modern astrolabe (front) PEF Maribor AD Polaris 2006 Figure 2: Janus modern astrolabe (back) 148 Victor Kennedy Astronomical References in Chaucer: What Can Modern Students Learn from Studying Ancient Texts? Figure 3: Janus modern astrolabe (rete) Using the astrolabes with the instruction manual is fairly straightforward. For example, Chaucer set his son a simple problem: 22. To know in speciall the latitude of oure countre, I mene after the latitude of Oxenford, and the height of oure pool. Understond wel that as fer is the heved1 of Aries or Libra in the equinoxiall fro oure orisonte2 as is the cenyth3 fro the pool artik; and as high is the pool artik fro the orisonte as the equinoxiall is fer fro the cenyth. I prove it thus by the latitude of Oxenford: understond wel that the height of oure pool artik fro oure north orisonte is 51 degrees and 50 mynutes; than is the cenyth fro oure pool artik 38 degrees and 10 mynutes; than is the equinoxial from oure cenyth 51 degrees and 50 minutes; than is oure south orisonte from our equinoxiall 38 degrees and 10 mynutes. Understond wel this rekenyng. Also forget not that the cenyth is 90 degrees of height from oure orisonte, and oure equinoxiall is 90 degrees from our pool artik. Also this short rule is soth, that the latitude of eny place in a regioun is the distaunce fro the cenyth unto the equinoxiall (Chaucer 1957, 555). Modern students, however, may find that the language interferes with the concepts and fail to “understond wel this rekenyng.” The same problem, translated into modern English, is set in Janus’s manual: What is the maximum and minimum altitude of the Sun for 46o 32’ north latitude? The answer to this question requires only the plate. The sun’s maximum altitude is when the Sun is at the summer solstice and its declination is equal to the latitude of the Tropic of Cancer. Look at the latitude of the Tropic of Cancer at the Meridian and note that it is about 66.9o. This is the maximum altitude of the Sun for the latitude. You can confirm this answer with a little arithmetic. The sun’s altitude for a latitude = 90o -(latitude – Sun’s declination). The minimum declination of the Sun is about –23.26o. Do the same for the minimum altitude (answer: 20o 2’) (Morrison 2003, 30). This takes longer to read than to do, but it is a useful exercise for anyone interested in learning not only about Chaucer, but also about the medieval and early Renaissance worldview. I suspect that many modern English scholars know of Chaucer’s Treatise, but have not read it closely. However, practicing some of the exercises described in the text can clarify concepts which were clear to him but may have been opaque to us. In this case, knowledge comes through doing. Learning is not just an abstract, intellectual acquisition of knowledge; there are other avenues to knowing, and different learning styles among students.  head  horizon Zenith The experience of using such an instrument is valuable not only to students but to teachers as well. Going out under the sky, looking up, measuring the Sun and stars and comparing them to the mapped version, then rotating the rete and rule to perform calculations, give a much more tangible and visceral impression of how the Earth’s rotations, revolutions, and seasonal variations affect the sky than performing exercises in a textbook, or even finding objects with a good computer planetarium program. While educational in their way, the latter two methods remain abstractions compared to manual observation and calculation with the astrolabe. Learning how to use it gives a concrete appreciation of the knowledge and sophistication of our ancestors. By using the astrolabe one can come to understand Chaucer’s Treatise, leading to a better appreciation of the astronomical references in his other works, including “The Miller’s Tale”, “The Wife of Bath’s Prologue and Tale”, “The Franklin’s Tale”, “The Merchant’s Tale” and “The House of Fame”, and to a deeper understanding of the world view of other medieval and Renaissance writers. 8. We can read about the medieval and Renaissance world, but we cannot actually experience it. We can, however, recreate some aspects of it and experience those. Most teachers would agree that active learning beats passive learning. Richard Feynman described his exposure to the Brazilian university system: “After a lot of investigation, I finally figured out that the students had memorized everything, but they didn’t know what anything meant… Finally, I said that I couldn’t see how anyone could be educated by this self-propagating system in which people pass exams, and teach others to pass exams, but nobody knows anything” (Feynman 1985, 212, 218). There are many possible sources of error in education, including uncritical acceptance and copying of authoritative works, and mistakes introduced in the editing process. One of the main problems with knowledge transmitted through textbooks, lectures, and even the World-wide Web, is that until it is internalized by practice and experience, it remains second-hand and abstract. It is difficult to find and correct errors in abstract information. Learning by doing, in addition to reading, is a better educational method because concepts become much more firmly embedded, and mistakes become easier to recognize. Renaissance scholars rediscovered the knowledge of classical Greece and Rome, but until scientists and academics moved beyond the discovery phase and began to actively experiment and question the authorities, the knowledge they had discovered remained static. Similarly, active participation, including questioning and critical examination, remains the best method of education in modern schools and universities. 9. Conclusion Koestler calls the major characters in his book, Copernicus, Kepler, Galileo and Newton, “sleepwalkers,” because they were not fully aware of the consequences of the system of thought they collectively developed. Copernicus was of the medieval world view, the other three of the Renaissance; together they inspired the age of the Enlightenment, and built the foundation of the modern world view. Each was working in a particular environment, divided in its religious and scientific beliefs, and the vision of reality they constructed helped overthrow both sets of beliefs. The problems they faced, however, are much like the problems discussed above that still plague our society and educational system. Koestler points out that much of the error in Copernicus’s writing stemmed from the fact that he did very little observing himself, preferring to work with observational data he had found in the published works of generally accepted scientific authorities, data, it was later discovered, which were inaccurate. It was the much more accurate data collected by Tycho Brahe, who questioned the findings of his predecessors, that allowed Kepler to finally substantiate Copernicus’s theory. Clearly, the modern world view is made up of similarly divergent sets of beliefs. It is the interplay between divided belief systems, and the urge to consolidate them into one, that drives much research and discovery: the twentieth century quest to unite quantum mechanics and relativity is a good example. Only the abandonment of old conceptual systems allows the acceptance of new ones, however, and the more established and entrenched such systems are, the more inertia that must be overcome. The transition is not an abrupt one, however, but more like a metamorphosis: As we observe the workings of the mind of Kepler (or Paracelsus, Gilbert, Descartes) we come to realize the fallacy of the belief that at some point between the Renaissance and the Enlightenment, man shook off the ‘superstitions of medieval religion’ like a puppy getting out of the water, and started on the bright new road of Science. Inside these minds, we find no abrupt break from the past, but a gradual transformation of the symbols of their cosmic experience – from anima motrix into vis motrix, moving spirit into moving force, mythological imagery into mathematical hieroglyphics – a transformation which never was, and, one hopes, never will be entirely completed (Koestler 1989, 262). Over time, knowledge is lost, suppressed, and distorted in many ways. We are handicapped in our search for understanding by biological, social, and cultural baggage, prejudices, and habits of thought. Multiple educational approaches, including practical, historical and theoretical are necessary if we want to teach clearly and well and overcome these handicaps. Practical experience in particular helps to avoid distortions and mistakes created when theoretical material is uncritically repeated and reproduced. Adherence to one teaching method is as dogmatic as anything we may criticize our ancestors for doing. Combining different approaches to education is like looking at something from different points of view; in doing so, one gains perspective and deeper understanding. Bibliography Chandler, D.L. 2004. Textbooks Flunk Out: When Science Books Are Put to the Test, It’s Hard to Decipher Fact from Fiction. Boston Globe, May 17 1999 [cited May 1 2004]. Available from http://cfa-www.harvard.edu/cfa/ep/pressrel/textbooks.html. Chaucer, G. 1957. A Treatise on the Astrolabe. In The Works of Geoffrey Chaucer, ed. F. N. Robinson. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company. Original edition, 1391. Diamond, J. 1999. Guns, Germs, and Steel: the Fates of Human Societies. New York; London: W.W. Norton. Original edition, 1997. Feynman, R.P. 1985. “Surely You’re Joking, Mr. Feynman!”: Adventures of a Curious Character as told to Ralph Leighton. Edited by E. Hutchings. 1st ed. New York: W.W. Norton. Gadpaille, M. 2004. Academic Integrity in a European Context. The European English Messenger XII: 57–9. Gingerich, O. 1986. Islamic Astronomy. Scientific American 254, no. 10: 74. –––. 1990. Five Centuries of Astronomical Textbooks and Their Role in Teaching. In The Teaching of Astronomy: Proceedings of the 105th Colloquium of the International Astronomical Union, Williamstown, Massachusetts, 26 – 30 July, 1998, ed. J.M. Pasachoff and J.R. Percy, 189–96. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. –––. 1990. The Use of History in Teaching Astronomy. In The Teaching of Astronomy: Proceedings of the 105th Colloquium of the International Astronomical Union, Williamstown, Massachusetts, 26 – 30 July, 1998, ed. J.M. Pasachoff and J.R. Percy, 39–44. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Gould, S.J., and R.C. Lewontin. 1979. The Spandrels of San Marco and the Panglossian Paradigm: A Critique of the Adaptationist Programme. Proceedings of the Royal Society of London, Series B 205 (1161): 581–98. Grimm, F.M. 1970. Astronomical Lore in Chaucer. New York: AMS Press. Koestler, A. 1989. The Sleepwalkers: A History of Man’s Changing Vision of the Universe. London: Arkana. Original edition, 1957. Laird, E.S., and D.W. Olson. 1990. A Note on Planetary Tables and a Planetary Conjunction in Troilus and Criseyde. Chaucer Review 24: 309–11. –––. 1996. Right Ascension. American Journal of Physics 64: 1099–100. Morrison, J. 2003. The Personal Astrolabe. Rehoboth Beach, Delaware: Janus. Park, R. L. 2000. Voodoo Science: The Road from Foolishness to Fraud. Oxford; New York: Oxford University Press. Pasachoff, J.M. 1990. Astronomy in American Textbooks. In The Teaching of Astronomy: Proceedings of the 105th Colloquium of the International Astronomical Union, Williamstown, Massachusetts, 26 – 30 July, 1998, ed. J. M. Pasachoff and J.R. Percy, 201–5. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Scott, E.C. 2004. Not (Just) In Kansas Anymore. National Center for Science Education May 8, 2003 [cited April 12 2004]. Available from http://www.ncseweb.org/resources/articles/4540_not_just_in_kansas_anymore_5_5_2000.asp. Smillie, D. 2004. The Great American Textbook Scandal 2000 [cited May 8 2004]. Available from http://www.forbes.com/forbes/ 2000/1030/6612178a_print.html. Appendix Astrolabe exercises – May 7, 2004 Telling the time by the elevation of the Sun 1. Hold the astrolabe by the ring at the top so that the Sun casts a shadow from the screw protruding from the back. Set the rule parallel to the shadow, and read the Sun’s elevation from the scale on the outside edge. 2. On the front of the astrolabe, align the edge of the rule with today’s date on the rete (the transparent plastic circle). 3. Turn the rule and the rete together so that the point where they intersect aligns with the circle corresponding to the elevation of the Sun (in degrees), marked on the meridian line (which runs vertically: north-south). 4. The end of the rule now points to the hour marked on the outside edge of the astrolabe (note: add an hour for daylight savings time). Finding the time of sunrise 1. With the rule on today’s date on the rete, turn both until they intersect with the horizon on the east side of the face (on the astrolabe face, the outsidemost circle of the dark shaded circles at the south end). 2. The end of the rule now points to the hour when the Sun will rise (again, add an hour for daylight savings time). Finding the time of sunset 1. With the rule on today’s date on the rete, turn both until they intersect with the ecliptic on the west side of the face. 2. The end of the rule now points to the hour when the Sun will set (again, add an hour for daylight savings time). Telling the time at night 1. First, you have to find the elevation of a star. Assume we are out at night and we can see the star Arcturus in the east (follow the arc of the handle of the Big Dipper to find the bright star Arcturus). 2. Holding the astrolabe by the ring at the top, sight along the rule on the back of the astrolabe to Arcturus, and read the elevation from the scale on the outside circle. Let’s say it is 50°. 3. Find Arcturus on the rete on the front of the astrolabe, and turn the rete so that Arcturus is on the 50° circle (read the scale on the vertical line that represents the meridian). 4. Turn the rule so that its edge is on the current date (May 7th) on the outside scale of the rete. 5. The rule (on the east side) points to 8:55 p.m. (add an hour for daylight savings time) Mirna Radin-Sabadoš university of novi Sad Faculty of Philosophy, Department of english Beyond Crime and Punishment: Metaphor of Violence in Iain Banks’s Complicity Summary Trying to decide on the place of art/literature in the network of codes and its relationship to what we recognize as reality, we are offered a number of interpretations, some of which support the theory that perception of reality in a text is influenced by social circumstances and by a number of factors relating to them. Therefore, “reality” cannot be seen as a reflection of any particular “natural” state, order or organization. Literature questions the assumption that coding is natural, much in the same way that language questions the assumption that there is an intrinsic order governing the world as a natural structure. It engages different voices and ideologies in a dialogue inside the same text, achieving the effect opposite to habitualization, i.e. defamiliarization. Corresponding to the culture of excess, Iain Bank’s Complicity, pinpoints representations of postmodern “reality” within the framework of postindustrial consumption culture. It deploys defamiliarization strategies of juxtaposing violence and power, taking advantage of the conventions of generic fiction of which violence is a mandatory constituent. Key words: violence in fiction, mystery genre, Iain Banks, Complicity (book) Onkraj zločina in kazni: metaforika nasilja v romanu Complicity Iaina Banksa Povzetek Umeščanje umetnosti/literature v njeno povezanost z realnostjo odpira mnoštvo interpretacij, od katerih nekatere podpirajo teorijo, da je ugledanje realnosti v besedilu pogojeno z družbenimi okoliščinamiinsštevilnimiznjopovezanimidejavniki.“Realnosti”potemtakemnegrerazumeti kot premislek o nekem določenem “naravnem” stanju, redu ali ureditvi. Literatura postavlja pod vprašaj, ali je kodiranje naravno, nič manj kot se jezik sprašuje, ali obstaja notranji ustroj, ki nadzoruje svet kot naravno strukturo. To pomeni vključevanje različnih glasov in ideologij znotraj istega besedila, kar povzroča nasprotje učinka podomačenja, tj. defamiliarizacije. V skladu s kulturo viška roman Complicity Iaina Banksa določa upodobitve postmoderne “realnosti” v okviru postindustrijske porabniške kulture, razvija defamiliarizacijske strategije sopostavljanja nasilja in moči in se pri tem opira na ustaljene oblike generičnega leposlovja, katerega obvezni sestavni del je prav nasilje. Ključne besede: nasilje v leposlovju, kriminalni roman, Ian Banks, Complicity (roman) Beyond Crime and Punishment: Metaphor of Violence in Iain Banks’s Complicity 1. Modeling reality At the moment when I thought he had already fallen asleep in his part of the shade, the guard raised his hand and showed me the moth hovering somewhere above the porch of the burial chamber; it had come out of our garments or out of the Persian rugs inside the building. ‘You see,’ – he addressed me without much interest – ‘the insect is high in the air under the white wall of the porch and it is visible only because it moves. One could think that it is a bird deep in the sky, if the wall is to be taken for the sky. That is, probably, how the moth sees it, and only we know it is wrong. The moth is not aware that we know it, either. It is not even aware of our existence. So, try to communicate with it, if you can. Can you say something to it, anything, but in such a way so it understands you, and you are certain it understood you completely?’ ‘I don’t know’, I replied, ‘Can you?’ ‘Yes, I can,’ the old man replied calmly, clapped his hands, killed the moth and showed it to me, crushed in his palm. ‘Do you think it did not understand what I was saying?’ (Pavić 1985, 95–6) This anecdote originates from a hypertextual postmodern dictionary novel, The Dictionary of Khasars, and in a nutshell illustrates some of the key issues concerning limits of representation, interpretation and communication in the light of Geistesgeschichte, and at the same time corroborates the assumptions: first, Barthes’ assumption that society is a network of codes speaking through all kinds of media, and second, largely Foucault’s, that the system of power relations underlies all other [social] affairs. Trying to decide on the place of art/literature in the network of codes and its relationship to what we recognize as reality, we are offered a number of interpretations, some of which support the theory that perception of reality in a text is influenced by social circumstances and by a number of factors relating to them. Therefore, “reality” cannot be seen as a reflection of any particular “natural” state, order or organization; it is rather, as Joyce’s account of Aristotle points out, that art imitates nature not in objects or actions so much as in the underlying law of which both objects and actions are the expressions. Language is what shapes experience: it encodes two distinctive varieties of meaning -the natural one, coded according to the biological disposition of humans, (colors, spatial relations, etc.), and the social one which reflects systems of social organization. In the light of the first assumption, and the major ideas of Roger Fowler’s Linguistic Criticism, language may not be understood as a medium for literature, but literature is to be seen as a component of language, because its substance, meanings, what it communicates is “uniquely constructed by the text in its interrelations with social and other contexts” (Fowler 1996, 14). Literary text, therefore, is to be understood as a complex structure which through the network of codes communicates a representation of a world in a process of interaction between the author and the reader who provide the necessary context. Communities which form and embody the experience of both author and reader, share systems of institutional and social knowledge, thus, evoking the words of Richard Rorty, “reading texts becomes a matter of reading them in the light of other texts, people, obsessions, bits of information, or what have you, and then seeing what happens”. Twentieth-century postindustrial culture produced its own set of codes; power shifted to structure in all its shapes and manifestations having become the foremost principle – postindustrial culture no longer tolerates the subjective, personal, almighty vision of the author. “A literary text, like any other text is primarily the realization of a mode of discourse or a number of modes of discourse…its basis can be found in ways of writing (styles, registers, genres) that precede it…Whatever is created by the individual writer, it is not the whole being of the text, because nothing is possible without the pre-existing discourses: and they are rooted in social economic, political and ideological conditions which go far beyond the consciousness and control of the writing subject, ‘the author’” (Fowler 1996, 223). The author is forced into the background, culture is forced into mass production; it demonstrates a need for excess as does almost any other aspect of living. Literature, in a traditional sense, became depleted. There are no “great stories” left untold, or better yet, left unheard. Story takes place in the realm of expectation, and if literature is a way of communicating the universal inside the particular then what is being communicated largely depends on who is listening rather than on what is being heard. As Umberto Eco points out, “the text’s intention is not displayed by the textual surface... One has to decide to ‘see’ it. It is possible to speak of the text’s intention only as a result of a conjunction on the part of the reader” (Eco 1992, 64). Language, the speaker’s idiolect, embodies his experience of reality largely in his vocabulary, also in his syntax, and Fowler claims such experience is uncritically exchanged between the members of a community by means of “conversation”, establishing habitual experience. As opposed to conversation, literature’s creative power lies in the ability to produce new discourse – one that will stand outside the habitual experience. Literature questions the assumption that coding is natural, much in the same way that language questions the assumption that there is an intrinsic order governing the world as a natural structure. It engages different voices and ideologies in a dialogue inside the same text, achieving the effect opposite to habitualization, i.e. defamiliarization1 In the process literature becomes a technique of criticism – it deliberately analyzes relationships between signs and meanings they construct and intentionally sets up defamiliarization strategies. 2. Age of Reason vs. Age of Doubt The habitualized social reality of a “speaker” coming from a postindustrial culture is saturated with power, understood both literally as “energy supply” and as a more elusive, abstract notion  terms used according to V. Shklovsky as quoted in Fowler . involving domination. Such social reality stretches further beyond the limits and the limitations of the physical world, expanding into the electronically generated virtual one; it is no longer driven by the forces of production, but by rather impalpable fluctuations of a number of factors, politics and economy being the most influential ones. Power became habitualized to the point when it is no longer visible. Power is speaker. Speaker is power. Reality shapes identity; “Existence is Identity, Consciousness is Identification.” (http://www.aynrand.com) therefore, identities too are largely susceptible to the comprehension of power structures. Yet, there is no clearly established distinction between the key terms which describe such structures: “power”, “force”, “authority” and finally “violence” all denote distinct, particular phenomena; however, their use is often randomized. Hannah Arendt, contemplating violence provides some explanations for that: the reason for it partly lies in the fact that it is assumed that one of the most relevant political issues is the answer to the question: Who rules over whom? She believes that power, strength, force, authority and violence appear only to be denoting different means which secure domination of man over man. These words are taken for synonyms because they serve the same purpose. At the point when public matters are no longer reduced to the roles in the play of domination, she believes that the variety of meaning will be restored. For the purposes of her study On Violence, Arendt gives definitions of key terms, power and violence, which will here be adopted. Therefore, power is denoted as the human ability of action in concordance, it never belongs to an individual, but to the group, and it exists as long as the group holds together. Someone “has the power” in a situation when a group of people has authorized him to act on their behalf. Violence stands out because of its instrumentality, and I would add, its visibility. Power is recognized and accepted in any social reality, violence is not. To a certain extent, violence is an instrument of preserving power. However, it does not come from power, nor can power come from violence. “Power and violence are opposites; where the one rules absolutely, the other is absent. Violence appears where power is in jeopardy, but left to its own course it ends in power’s disappearance” (Arendt 2002, 71). Let us now look back at the anecdote from the beginning and consider the meanings it constructs. What would be habitually seen and understood as an automated action of no significance, killing of a moth, is presented as a completely new code – killing becomes a way of deliberately communicating a message. A taboo, a disturbance in “the order of things”, becomes a medium through which codes of power speak, and at the same time violence becomes objectified. On the one hand the story pictures a scheme of hierarchy, but on the other, it provides a framework for justification of domination. The way literature treated these issues changed considerably under the influence of changes in social reality, and it is possible to argue that the treatment of violence presents an indication of the mode of social reality accepted by a particular literary model, which in turn needs to be interpreted in the historical context it was created in. The particular influence of the issues regarding power and violence in the making of unique worldviews becomes apparent but obviously related to the social and historical circumstances a particular literary model originates from. Also, a different treatment of violence, arising from those circumstances, sets up a different context for the critical approach to the literary interpretation of social reality allowing for different defamiliarization strategies to be explored. The treatment of violence in literature, or even more in popular culture, can be interpreted as a marker of social consciousness regarding the structures of power, therefore as one of the projections of social reality. The twentieth century saw the greatest fluctuations in power structures so far, and the greatest exercise of institutionalized violence – two world wars, revolutions, perpetual civil wars, the Cold War – a substitute for peace, and a total world peace disrupted by the “oases of war” deployed as means of preserving the balance of power, rather than creating space for the actual change in it. Age of Reason gave way to the Age of Doubt. Social reality started moving away from the subject, consequently providing a slot for ideology to fill – since “there is no ideology except by the subject and for the subject” (Adams and Searle 1989, 239). . Mystery fiction: supporting the order of things? In terms of literary equivalents corresponding to the social reality, we are able to trace similarities between generic fiction and elements of an ideology. Barthes argued that it is in relation to other texts within a genre rather than in relation to lived experience that we make sense of certain events within a text. Semiotically, a genre can be seen as a shared code between the producers and interpreters of texts included within it. Traditionally, genres, particularly literary ones, tended to be regarded as fixed forms, but contemporary theory emphasizes that both their forms and functions are dynamic. In trying to determine how literary models of social reality changed over the century and what influenced the dynamism of change, it is particularly interesting to observe how the detective genre evolved since it best evokes the power play. It revolves around an enigma concerning the crime and punishment paradigm, and it unmistakably reflects the Zeitgeist in characterization and in the functional elements of its structure. It is modern man’s morality play desiring to reestablish the clear cut difference between good and evil. It assumes that the world and life inside a mystery book are built as a puzzle, originating from a significant and meaningful discrepancy between truth and appearance, and the general assumption is that a person persistent enough and intelligent enough will be able to finally solve the puzzle, establishing reason as the ruling principle. “One of the mystery genre’s central features is the kind of light it sheds on particular cultures. The criminal act disrupts social fabric and the detective’s role is to repair the damage and set the order of things back in place, whilst the detection process brings to light aspects of culture that otherwise remain hidden” (Cawelti 1999, 44). Such a perspective presumes that one can rely, with a considerable amount of certainty, on the intrinsic, underlying order of things, which allows us to unambiguously distinguish heroes from villains. At the turn of the twenty-first century Geistesgeschichte is run out, the Zeitgeist of the postmodern period would be disdain for any expressions of certainty in general. Identifying them and playing with key stereotypes of popular culture, the Scottish writer Iain Banks fuses conventions of the detective genre with the spirit of the Age of Doubt, and from the perspective of the postmodern state of affairs, uses them as tools to deconstruct the unchallenged order of things reflected in the mystery genre throughout the twentieth century. Corresponding to the culture of excess, his novel Complicity pinpoints representations of postmodern “reality” within the framework of postindustrial consumption culture. It deploys defamiliarization strategies of juxtaposing violence and power taking advantage of the conventions of generic fiction of which violence is a mandatory constituent; it exposes the age of uncertainty by playing with narrative constructs of fictional worlds and finally brings an end to the myth of a subject, of a supreme rational being, completing the circle, elaborating the genre, but simultaneously returning to the starting point, emerging out into the Kafkian universe. 4. Complicity: Beyond crime and punishment The work of Iain Banks embodies in the best sense of the word values of the culture he belongs to, and at the same time, he is its most devoted critic. He is a writer who entirely belongs to the western culture of mass production and excess; he complies with it and takes advantage of it. His work itself is the embodiment of mass production. Writing as Iain Banks in mainstream fiction, and as Iain M. Banks in science fiction, since his first novel, published in 1984, The Wasp Factory, he has produced ten other mainstream, and nine science fiction novels. His mainstream literary texts revolve around models of postindustrial society, and like postindustrial first world culture, they are a pastiche made of masterfully crafted popular genres and philosophical reflections on human state in its totality. “Banks’ macabre tales belong to a long and fertile tradition of the Gothic and reviewers have compared his work to that of Edgar Allan Poe and Franz Kafka in its delineation of abnormal psychology. ” (http://homepages.compuserve.de/Mostral/artikel/bio2.html) On a deeper level, all of his stories deal with the issue of power, in all its concrete forms, and with the possible courses of action an individual takes once s/he realizes the omnipotence of mechanisms set in motion. In terms of formal analysis, Complicity provides some interesting insights into the literary paradigm functioning as a means of representation, that is, it presents a specific approach to genre and to the combining of popular and literary genres, and an excellent example of plot development in an elaborate narrative structure for the purpose of expressing a standpoint about social reality mirrored by the work of art. Depending on the choice of key elements, Complicity may be interpreted as a mystery novel or as a Bildungsroman, or even as a gothic horror story. Here, I am dealing with the most obvious, taking into account the assumption that readers interpret texts in the light of other texts and their own worldviews, and I shall focus on the elements of the mystery genre and on the way they affect understanding of the novel as a whole. Genre literature raises readers’ expectations, which is particularly true of the mystery genre, regarding its pattern that includes compositional scheme: a puzzle at the beginning, solution at the end; character typology: there is only one culprit, and only one investigator; persistent narrative perspective; no unwarranted twists or turns in the structure of the plot, etc. A well-written crime story demands that the pattern be respected, but on the other hand it offers numerous opportunities for the making of a genre text into a singular experience by expressing the author’s talent in domains that do not belong to the pattern – in style, choice of topics, motivation, or character development. Complicity in many respects follows the pattern. Structurally, according to the categorization by Stanko Lasić (1973, 91), the pattern of Complicity would most closely fit into the compositional scheme dominated by jeopardy, although there are elements that belong to the compositional scheme of investigation; however, here it has been deployed as a decoy. In the compositional scheme of jeopardy, all the events are related to the potentially perilous situation that places the protagonist(s) in situations of anxiety, insecurity, even fear, supplying them with peculiar clues and sudden twists and turns. The character in jeopardy aspires to resolve the situation and provide an explanation for the action: to transform secrets into truths. The action of Complicity revolves around a series of mysterious attacks on the people who have the reputation of pillars of society, all of whom were listed in an unfavorable article written by journalist Cameron Colley. He is the main suspect for the police, but they are not really the investigators, they are just an instrument of compulsion, since it is the hero at whom the conflict is pointed and he is the one who has to resolve it. The bottom line of jeopardy is always a criminal act. As it turns out, this particular crime comes from the past and it brings to the surface issues against which humanistic values in general have been set. Unfortunately, the very moment of resolution in the generic sense brings a disaster to the order of things, polemicising the nature and the purpose of punishment. According to generic conventions, punishment functions as the element of a crime novel which best points to the author’s understanding of social reality. The culprit should be faced with a just punishment, which means that the culprit will be punished according to the norms of a society, of an organization or of a cult he belongs to and which represents the setting of the action. These novels reaffirm the established values: crime needs to be punished, and usually, it is quite obvious what a crime is. Banks here plays the readers – who is the culprit, what is his crime? The answer to these questions may arise from the answer to the question: Which story are we in? and Who is in power? And the story of Complicity runs through a series of micro-narratives that exist on separate planes in time and space, deploying different sets of characters, that all become unified inside the consciousness of the hero, Cameron Colley. Time and space slip into linearity at the point when Cameron solves the mystery. He, at that point, emerges from a quest he never intended to embark upon, and he is revealed as the story’s theme and its outcome. Narrative, understood as a mental representation, consists of a world (setting), populated by individuals (characters), who participate in actions and happenings (events, plot), through which they undergo change [temporal dimension] (Ryan 1996). The novel opens with a narrative belonging to the murderer, that is, with the narrative populated only by the murderer and his victims at the moment the crimes take place. It functions on a parallel temporal and spatial plane with the narration belonging to the hero, and no references exists to the events which took place before or after, suggesting that the existence of the characters before and after the acts of violence continues somewhere else, that is, within the framework of the main narrative. This narrative is presented in a series of episodes which interrupt the flow of the main narrative and up to a point when two narratives share one of the characters and tell from different perspectives about the same event, there seems to be little, if any, connection between them except for the hints about the hero’s possible involvement, which is, of course one of the conventions of the genre. The focal character here is obviously the murderer, since the readers know everything he sees, does or feels, but formally, it is a second person narrative. The story is being told in the second person at the same time using the point of view of a character, which simultaneously prevents immersion on the subconscious level and enhances identification on the rational level. This is a world inhabited by the perpetrator, his victims, and the reader. A faceless character is telling his own story, he or she is “you”, however, his story has the intensity, not only of retelling, but of reliving of the event, s/he becomes intimate with the reader to the point of achieving the impression that the reader is there at the moment the events take place, so the reader is pulled in, he becomes a silent witness, completely deprived of the capability to change the course of events, and absolutely conscious of the meaning and the implications of the actions taking place. The psychological effect of this fairly simple device is immense and the reader is placed in a position inside the story as an independent “underlying” observer sharing consciousness with the character but not identifying with him. Episodes possess an Aristotelian perfection of beginning, middle, and end. A definite and single problem is set, worked out, and solved; each of the episodes is a perfect whole in itself in terms of composition. At the point the murderer is identified among the characters of the main narrative, the episodes cease to exist as such, and the actions of the murderer are integrated into the main narrative. The narrative belonging to the hero functions as a mental representation of the “real world”. It is being presented through the consciousness of the main character and told in first person, up to the last chapter. The course of events is rather linear, save for the flash backs, which start as dream fragments and grow into full size recall of the two key events happening in the past involving both the hero and the murderer. The last chapter slips back to the second person narration, this time sharing the perception of the hero, again invoking the witness reader in hero’s attempt of closure. The capital crime of all of the participants in all of the sequences is their complicity but the punishment does not always come from the outside – and here Banks places power alongside with violence accomplishing the transformation of interpretation. In switching perspectives and worlds, crime and its nature become relativised, so do criminals and victims and it becomes difficult to tell the difference between a criminal act and a just punishment. Both exhibit violence; both, or any of them, are the metaphors of captivity. However, the core of the novel is Cameron’s story which belongs to all of the narratives. The hero is introduced inside a model of his own world. For a long time he remains absolutely unaware of the crimes taking place. He is an educated professional with no immediate interest in solving crimes per se, however, as a journalist he is someone who wields power. His opening scene depicts him documenting the return of the British nuclear submarine which is an actual event that did take place in the actual world. For the author it provides an opportunity to define time in the story, but also to define some of the character’s political views, and the world he lives in. He is a loner, a chain smoker, a techno fan, an anti Tory, an adulterer, an agnostic and a substance abuser, to state the most obvious. He follows the clues of one constructed mystery only to find himself being a part of another, undergoes change in the process and discovers some rather unpleasant truths about himself. In the end he becomes a personification of the absurd hero – the one who realizes the futility of his toil but still keeps toiling, completely liberated from hope. Thus he transcends the timelessness of a typical investigator – he remains firmly rooted in what he sees and understands as the real world, accepting his own boundaries. His greatest crime is his complicity in the state of affairs, his complacence. His punishment is grave – he loses his life, not in a physical, but in a social sense, he had lost his carefully constructed identity and needs to start over – the metaphor of his catastrophe best conveyed by his description of the status of his favorite computer game Despot after the police released it to him: It’s a wasteland. My kingdom is gone. The land is still there, some of the people are, and the capital city, designed in the shape giant crescents of buildings around two lakes, so that from the air it says ‘CC’ ... but something terrible seems to have happened. The city is crumbling, largely abandoned; aqueducts fallen, reservoirs cracked and dry, districts flooded, others burned down; the activity taking place within the city is about what you’d expect from town... The worst of it is there’s no head man, no _Despot_, no me. I can look at all this but I can’t do anything about it, not on this scale. To start playing again I’d have to trade this omniscient but omni-impotent view for that of... God knows, some tribal warrior, village elder, a mayor or a bandit chief (Banks 1992, 306). But he is not allowed to start again, life is different from the game. Banks robs his hero of any optimism he may have left, making sure he stays within the boundaries of the “real”. This is where Complicity leaves genre conventions; the hero underwent change and stopped being larger than life. Individual crimes are shrunken compared to the dimension of collective guilt. It discloses tears in the fabric of society that are beyond repair instead of just punishing those who venture beyond the socially acceptable. Finally, in doing so, it becomes a testimonial about the personal horrors of our times. Cameron sums it up telling about the walled-in city under the Edinburgh castle: But in those moments of blackness you stood there, as though you yourself were made of stone like the stunted, buried buildings around you, and for all your educated cynicism, for all your late-twentieth-century materialist Western maleness and your fierce despisal of all things superstitious, you felt a touch of true and absolute terror, a consummately feral dread of the dark; a fear rooted back somewhere before your species had truly become human and came to know itself, and in that primaeval mirror of the soul, that shaft of self-conscious understanding which sounded both the depths of your collective history and your own individual being, you glimpsed -during that extended, petrified moment - something that was you and was not you, was a threat and not a threat, an enemy and not an enemy, but possessed of a final, expediently functional indifference more horrifying than evil (Banks 1992, 310). . Conclusion Mystery genre, in this case, supports the author’s (and readers’) vision of their own culture. It is the most highly represented genre in most public libraries. Violence became modern man’s entertainment – whether it is fictional or documentary, it is certain to attract the audience’s attention. At the same time people grow less and less sensitive to violence and more willing to look for excuses to justify victimization, politically or otherwise. Complicity treats violence differently within each of the narrative sequences and that becomes a prism reflecting the perception of reality within that sequence. Ultimately, the story discloses the institutionalized violence – the state apparatuses (school, army, politics), the economic system (earning shareholders their profits at any price), the self inflicted violence sanctioned by the society because of the economic interest (smoking, drinking) – and instead demonstrating the scope of power, violence becomes a metaphor of being un-free. It becomes a symbol of captivity in the “free world” and a testimonial of the lack of power. It is a symbol of human insignificance. It is a dark vision of the world, which deconstructs the traditional understanding of mystery literature. In a postmodernist world, the genre invented to rationalize the lack of logic in the state of affairs now serves as its best model, reflecting the scope of [d]evolution of the social circumstances. Art and reality are at play uncovering the illusion, as put by Georg Lukacs, “[T]he universal appears as a quality of the individual and the particular, reality becomes manifest and can be experienced within appearance, the general principle is exposed as the specific impelling cause for the individual case being specially depicted” (Adams and Searle 1989, 789). Bibliography Adams, H., and L. Searle, eds. 1989. Critical Theory Since 1965. Gainesville, Florida: University Presses of Florida. Arendt, H. 2002. O nasilju. Beograd: Alexadria Press. Ayn Rand Institute. http://www.aynrand.com (accessed 7 April 2004) Banks, I. 1995. Complicity. London: Abacus. Cawelti, J.G. 1999. Detecting the Detective. Kentucky: University Press of Kentucky. Fowler, R. 1996. Linguistic Criticism. Oxford, New York: OUP. Lasić, S. 1973. Poetika kriminalističkog romana. Zagreb: SNL. Pavić, M. 1985. Hazarski rečnik. Beograd: Prosveta. Ryan, M.L. 1996. Narrative in Digital Media. Poetics Today 23, no. 4: 581–609. – – III. ENGLISH LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE TEACHING Mihaela Brumen, Branka Čagran and Shelagh Rixon university of Maribor, university of Maribor and university of Warwick Assessment of Young Learners’ Foreign Language in Slovenian Primary Schools Summary Assessment should regularly and systematically be integrated into the process of learning and teaching. That is, it should reflect the kinds of activity that regularly occur in class and with which pupils are familiar. It should have a strong diagnostic function that will provide useful information to teachers and learners in enabling them to take stock of where they are and if necessary to adapt their particular strategies. The research reported in this article focuses on an investigation of Slovenian foreign language teachers’ experiences and attitudes toward the assessment of primary learners of a foreign language. By means of a survey questionnaire we present the characteristics of teachers’ assessment in practice, and teachers’ attitudes toward assessment at the primary level. The survey shows that all teachers assess their young learners of foreign languages, more often numerically than with comments. They also believe that they are responsible for assessment, just as they believe that teachers and young learners alike have the right to these the results. Key words: assessment, primary learners of a foreign language. Izvajanje preverjanja in ocenjevanja znanja mlajših učencev pri pouku tujega jezika v slovenski osnovni šoli Povzetek Preverjanje in ocenjevanje naj bi bila redno in sistematično vključena v proces učenja in poučevanja. Izražala naj bi dejavnosti v razredu, učenci bi morali biti z njimi seznanjeni. Preverjanje in ocenjevanje naj imata diagnostično funkcijo, ki zagotavlja uporabne informacije tako učitelju kot učencu, prav tako pa ju opozarja na uspešnost izbranega načina dela in če je potrebno tudi prilagajanje na določene učne strategije. Članek predstavlja empirično raziskavo o značilnostih in stališčih do preverjanja in ocenjevanja in sicer slovenskih učiteljev razrednega pouka in tujega jezika, ki poučujejo tuji jezik na razredni stopnji osnovne šole. S pomočjo prevzetega anketnega vprašalnika smo pridobili podatke o značilnostih preverjanja in ocenjevanja učencev tujega jezika na razredni stopnji osnovne šole, ki jih učitelji izvajajo v praksi ter stališča učiteljev do preverjanja in ocenjevanja. Raziskava kaže, da vsi učitelji preverjajo in ocenjujejo učence tujega jezika na razredni stopnji, številčno bolj pogosto kot opisno. Učitelji menijo, da so sami odgovorni za preverjanje in ocenjevanje, prav tako so mnenja, da imajo tako učenci kot njihovi starši pravico videti rezultate. Ključne besede: pouk tujega jezika na nižji stopnji osnovne šole, preverjanje in ocenjevanje znanja, stališča učiteljev Assessment of Young Learners’ Foreign Language in Slovenian Primary Schools 1. Introduction Assessment at the primary level can be described as an attempt to analyse the learning that a child has achieved over a period of time as a result of the classroom teaching/learning situation (Brewster et al., 2002, 244). Assessment includes all methods used to gather information about children’s knowledge, motivation, attitude, ability, participation, and cognitive development. Assessment can be carried out through a number of instruments (for example tests, self-assessment, peer-assessment). A teacher needs to be constantly aware of what the children know, what difficulties they are experiencing, and how best to help them. On the basis of assessment outcomes teachers are able to give individualized help to each pupil. Assessment results also give pupils tangible evidence of their progress or achievements. In the last two decades, several educational changes in Europe have taken place and as a result, primary education programmes have also been revised in Slovenia. It was obvious that huge educational changes could not be introduced into all primary schools, so in autumn 1999 changes started in forty-two Slovenian primary schools. Changes were introduced into all other Slovenian primary schools by autumn 2003. The most important changes were: • primary school entry (children now begin primary school at the age of six rather than seven; they finish at the age of 15); • division of the primary school into three stages (stage 1: from the age of 6 to 8; stage 2: from the age of 9 to 11, stage 3: from the age of 12 to 14); • the first foreign language is taught at the age of nine not eleven; • the introduction of elective subjects; • instruction of 12 to 14 year-old pupils at different levels in Maths, Slovene and the first Foreign Language; • descriptive assessment in stage 1, a combination of descriptive and numerical assessment (marks) in stage 2 and exclusively numerical assessment in stage 3; • using modern teaching methods in instruction and more focus on the stimulation of individual creativity. The Slovenian National Curriculum of Foreign Languages (1998, 61) includes the following forms of assessment in the primary school: • Observation of pupil’s language progress or achievement in performing different activities (for example in peer or group work, in dialogues, role-playing, discussions, individual activities). Parents, teachers or pupils can observe. The teacher records the progress or achievement on his/her record card on the basis of the previously agreed criteria or the teacher makes notes of his/her general impressions. • Tests (teachers assess the pupil’s abilities in reading, listening and writing skills and the pupil’s language proficiency (grammar on the morphological level and syntax), orthography and vocabulary. • Language portfolio (A pupil collects samples of his/her work produced in foreign language lessons. A portfolio gives a review of the pupil’s work over a period of time and shows his/her individual language progress. At the beginning of the year pupils and the foreign language teacher agree on which work samples they will collect in their portfolio. The choice of what goes into the portfolio is based on specific principles and criteria agreed on by the pupil and the teacher together. Pupils in higher classes give their own reasons for collecting their work samples in the portfolio. • Self-assessment (with this approach pupils become aware of the foreign language aims; it reflects one’s abilities and learning styles, promotes invaluable learning skills such as monitoring one’s own progress and setting personal goals. Self-assessment can be carried out by the help of different questionnaires (for example questions supported by visual aids) and other instruments suitable for the age and level of pupils. • Checking of homework. The assessment should be carried out in a way that protects and enhances a positive learning atmosphere and attitudes towards foreign languages and learning in general. 2. Aims of the survey We wanted to find out what foreign language teachers’ experiences and attitudes are with regard to the assessment of primary learners of foreign languages in Slovenia. Because new changes brought foreign language teaching to the primary level this kind of education and assessment is new to the teachers who teach the foreign language at this level. We present the existing foreign language assessment at the primary level in Slovenia focusing on the following issues: 1. Characteristics of teachers’ assessment in practice, such as: • performance of assessment, • forms and types of assessment, • assessment content and related skills, • assessment activities, • teacher training in assessing pupils’ language development. 2. Teachers’ attitudes toward assessment at the primary level, such as: • taking over the responsibility in assessment, • report/presentation of results (who sees the results), • justification of young learners’ assessment. Our hypothesis about young learners of foreign languages was that assessment practices in Slovenian schools would follow the National Curriculum of Foreign Languages (1998) and that the assessment results would give teachers who teach a foreign language at the primary level tangible evidence of how to support and improve the foreign language teaching. Taking into consideration the fact that language teaching in Slovenia is carried out by foreign language teachers and primary teachers we checked for differences between the two groups in both issues, teachers’ experiences and attitudes. 2.1 Procedure A survey was carried on the occasional sample of Slovenian primary teachers (n = 18) and foreign language teachers (n = 32). They teach mostly English (88%) in the school year 2003/2004, in the age group of 5-6 year old learners (14%), 7-8 year olds (28%), 9-10 year olds (74%) and 11-12 year old learners (66%). For the procedure of collecting the data we used an adaptation of the questionnaire used by Rea-Dickins and Rixon (1999) making some content and methodological changes (Rea-Dickins, Rixon, 1999). The questionnaire was rewritten. The sampling was carried out first by mail where 21 primary and foreign language teachers completed and sent back the questionnaire. It was also administered in two seminars of teachers (in Maribor and Ljubljana) who teach foreign languages at the primary level. We asked them to complete the questionnaire and we collected 33 questionnaires from this source. The results reported here are based on a sample of 50 teachers. 4 questionnaires were not properly completed so they were excluded. The questionnaire was in English and was completed by all respondents in English. The data were analysed on the level of descriptive and inference statistics. We also calculated frequencies (f, f%), the mean of numerical answers (always, frequently, sometimes, rarely, never), .2-test and the Mann-Whitney-U-test of differences between the two groups of teachers according to their status. . Findings 3.1 The analysis of characteristics of teachers’ assessment in practice in Slovenia We will present the following issues: • frequency of assessment and its reasons • ways of assessment • type of assessment and its purpose • assessment content and related skills • assessment activities • teacher training in assessing pupils’ language development. .1.1 The frequency of assessment We wanted to find out how frequently assessment is carried out in the foreign language classroom and the reasons for which it is used. Status Answer Primary teachers (PT) Foreign language teaches (FLT) Total Yes 18 100.0% 32 100.0% 50 100.0% No / / / Total 18 100.0% 32 100.0% 50 100.0% Table 1. The number (f) and percentage (f%) of primary (PT) and foreign language teachers (FLT) according to the frequency of assessment: According to the Slovenian school legislation and the National Curriculum of Foreign Languages (1998) all teachers, primary and foreign language teachers, should assess. It means that assessment is a fully enforced activity, carried out with preschool children (in the age of 5-6 year olds) as well as with pupils (in the age of 7-8, 9-10, 11-12 year old learners). Status Reasons PT FLT Total Result .2 .2-test P National FL standards 8 44.4% 12 37.5% 20 40.0% 0.231 0.630 Parents 12 66.7% 23 71.9% 35 70.0% 0.149 0.700 Pupils 16 88.9% 23 71.9% 39 78.0% 1,943 0.163 Language teacher 13 72.2% 23 71.9% 36 72.0% 0.001 0.979 Certification at the end of primary school 5 27.8% 15 46.9% 20 40.0% 1.751 0.186 Outside evaluators 1 5.6% 1 3.1% 2 4.0% 0.177 0.674 Table 2. The number (f) and percentage (f%) of primary (PT) and foreign language teachers (FLT) according to the reasons of using assessment and the results of .2-test The majority of teachers use assessment to provide information to their learners (78%). It also provides information to them as language teachers (72%) and information is given to parents (70%). National foreign language standards (40%) and certification at the end of primary school (40%), especially outside evaluators (4%), are less important reasons for using assessment in the foreign language classroom. The .2-test results show that there are no statistically important differences between primary and foreign language teachers (P > 0.15). .1.2 Ways of assessment We checked the usage of numerical and descriptive grades, scores and percentage. Status Ways of assessment PT FLT Total Result .22 .2-test P Numerical grade 10 55.6% 18 56.3% 28 56.0% 0.002 0.962 Descriptive grades/comments 7 38.9% 5 15.6% 12 24.0% 3.418 0.064 Grade and comment 2 11.1% 10 31.3% 12 24.0% 2.562 0.109 Scores 9 50.0% 13 40.6% 22 44.0% 0.411 0.522 Percentage 6 33.3% 8 25.3% 14 28.0% 0.397 0.529 Table 3. The number (f) and percentage (f%) of primary (PT) and foreign language teachers (FLT) according to the ways of assessment and the results of .2-test: It is obvious from the table 3 that teachers use numerical grades (56%) and scores (44%) frequently. The usage of percentages (28%), descriptive grades (24%) and the combination of grades and comments (24%) are not so frequent. The traditional way of assessment seems to prevail, although the national curriculum of foreign languages strictly states that teachers who teach foreign languages at the primary level should use a combination of grades and comments. We believe that teachers should use this combination more often. There are no statistically important differences between primary and foreign language teachers according to the ways of assessment. However, there exists a slight (though statistically not important) tendency in the usage of descriptive grades according to its combination with the numerical grade; namely primary teachers use descriptive grades (.2 = 3.418; P = 0.064) more often. Foreign language teachers use a combination of grades and comments (.2 = 2.562; P = 0.109) more often that primary teachers. We believe that the differences mentioned are the consequence of using only descriptive assessment in all subjects at the primary level in Slovenia. .1. Types of assessment We examined which types of tests teachers use in the foreign language classroom (e.g. tests created by individual teachers, tests made by a group of FL teachers, standardized tests, tests produced in textbooks, grammar tests, oral interviews, language portfolio, self-assessment). Rank Type of assessment 1 My own made test 3.66 2 Oral interview 3.54 3 Grammar test 2.78 4 Test produced in textbooks 2.70 5 Self-assessment 2.48 Table 4. The rank list of types of assessment according to its frequency (x ) Teachers (n = 50) use their own tests and oral interviews most frequently. Grammatical tests and tests produced in textbooks follow. Learners’ self-assessment is in the middle of the rank list. Not so frequent is the usage of tests made by a group of foreign language teachers, structured observation leading to a written description of a young learner’s performance and language portfolio. The least frequently used is the standardized test from the national and local foreign language educational authorities. According to the results it seems that teachers are fairly autonomous in using types of assessment. They use their own tests and carry out oral interviews. Young learners have less autonomy; self-assessment is less used than tests and oral interview, and the language portfolio is not frequently used. Although the National Curriculum of Foreign Languages (1998) includes the language portfolio for use in the foreign language classroom we believe that teachers are not familiar with using it. This might be the reason why language portfolio is ranked so low. Type of assessment Status The average rank /z/ P My own made test PT FLT 26.19 25.11 0.263 0.793 Test made by a group of FL teachers PT FLT 27.19 24.55 0.654 0.513 Oral interview PT FLT 24.53 26.05 0.370 0.711 Grammar test PT FLT 25.64 25.42 0.005 0.958 Test produced in textbooks PT FLT 29.11 23.47 1.401 0.161 Structured observation leading to a written description of YL performance PT FLT 28.19 23.98 1.082 0.279 Standardized test from national and local FL educational authority PT FLT 28.81 23.64 1.565 0.118 Language portfolio PT FLT 26.36 25.02 0.351 0.726 Self-assessment PT FLT 26.36 25.02 0.326 0.745 Table 5. Results of the Mann-Whitney-U-Test (z-value) of differences between primary (PT) and foreign language teachers (FLT) according to the frequency of individual types of assessment There are no statistically important differences between primary and foreign language teachers. On the basis of means we can pay attention to primary teachers who make rather more frequent use than foreign language teachers of tests produced in textbooks and standardized tests from national and local foreign language educational authorities. What the purpose of using these tests is in the primary foreign language classroom is evident from the following table. Purpose Type To monitor progress & get feedback To diagnose problems To check achievement of learners To encourage learning/motivate learners To establish standards My own-made test 40 80% 21 42% 26 52% 17 34% 10 20% Test made by a group of FL teachers 5 10% 7 14% 16 32% 7 14% 5 10% Oral interview 20 40% 15 30% 29 58% 23 46% 5 10% Grammar test 16 32% 19 38% 16 32% 9 18% 7 14% Test produced in textbooks 19 38% 13 26% 17 34% 16 32% 5 10% Structured observation leading to a written description of YL performance 6 12% 3 6% 5 10% 7 14% 5 10% Standardized test from national or local FL education authority 3 6% / 1 2% 1 2% 8 16% Language portfolio 5 10% 2 4% 6 12% 7 14% 2 4% Self-assessment 7 14% 10 20% 8 16% 15 30% 1 2% Total 121 26,9% 90 20% 124 27.6% 102 22.7% 48 10.7% Table 6. The number (f) and percentage (f%) of primary (PT) and foreign language teachers (FLT) according to the purpose of individual types of assessment: Teachers use different types of assessment (different tests, oral interviews, self-assessment, language portfolio) mostly to check the achievement of learners (27.6%) and to monitor young learners’ progress and get their feedback (26.9%). To encourage learning and motivate learners follows (22.7%). The least frequent purpose for using these tests is to establish standards (10.7%). We might find the reason for this in the fact that tests and standards have still not been worked out on a national basis. If we look at individual types of assessment we find out that teachers use tests that they have devised themselves firstly with the purpose of monitoring a young learner’s progress or getting his/her feedback (80%), tests made by a group of foreign language teachers are used mostly with the purpose of checking the achievement of young learners (32%), grammatical tests are used to diagnose problems (38%), tests produced in textbooks for getting the learner’s feedback (38%) and standardized tests for establishing standards (16%). In the case of oral interviews the most important purpose is to check the achievements of young learners (58%). In structured observation leading to a written description of learners’ performance the main purpose is to encourage and motivate learners (14%). Motivation is also the main reason for using language portfolio and self-assessment. .1.4 Assessment content and related skills We checked the teachers’ content focus (grammar, lexis, spelling) and skills focus (oral, listening, reading, writing skills and pronunciation) in the assessment of young learners. Rank Assessment content and skills _ ( x ) 1 Listening skills 3.22 2 Oral skills 3.18 3 Lexis 3.02 4 Pronunciation 2.94 5 Reading skills 2.78 6 Writing skills 2.70 7 Spelling 2.70 8 Grammar 2.48 _ Table 7. The rank list of assessment content and skills according to its frequency ( x ) Regardless of their status teachers focus mostly on listening and speaking skills in assessing young learners. Lexis and pronunciation follow. Below the middle rank line follow reading and writing skills and spelling. Grammar is ranked last. These results are encouraging because they show that teachers focus in their assessment on content and skills suitable for young learners, on active not passive language knowledge, and this also follows the national curriculum guidelines. Whether there are differences between primary and foreign language teachers is evident from Table 8. Content and skills Status The average rank /z/ P Grammar PT FLT 26.61 24.88 0.430 0.667 Lexis PT FLT 21.97 27.48 1.397 0.162 Spelling PT FLT 28.08 24.05 1.033 0.301 Oral skills PT FLT 23.67 26.53 0.716 0.474 Listening skills PT FLT 26.75 24.80 0.495 0.621 Reading skills PT FLT 28.11 24.03 1.089 0.276 Writing skills PT FLT 29.94 23.00 1.732 0.083 Pronunciation PT FLT 26.00 25.22 0.191 0.848 Table 8. Results of the Mann-Whitney-U-Test (z-value) of differences between primary (PT) and foreign language teachers (FLT) according to the frequency of content and skills in assessment of YL ENGLISH LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE TEACHING 1 As is evident from the table there are no statistically important differences (P > 0.05) between primary and foreign language teachers in their focus on contents and skills in the assessment of young learners. However, we should note that they tend to differ in the usage of writing skills (P = 0.083); primary teachers, as evident from the mean, use assessment of writing skills more often than foreign language teachers. If we have a closer look at the means in using assessment of reading skills and spelling, it can be seen that primary teachers assess these more often, but foreign language teachers assess lexis more frequently. We might find the reason for these results in the fact that primary teachers are already teaching young learners how to read and write in their mother tongue and because they frequently assess reading and writing in the mother tongue, they also pay attention to their assessment in the foreign language. From the differences mentioned we may conclude that foreign language teachers emphasize an active level of foreign language knowledge (speaking and listening) more than primary teachers; maybe because they are more fluent in the target language than are primary teachers. .1. Assessment activities We checked how frequently 15 different activities are included by teachers in their assessment. These activities assess a young learner’s knowledge, skills (especially communication skills), and attitudes, demonstration of understanding by doing, as well as the ability to apply these to new situations. Rank Assessment activities _ ( x ) 1 Matching 3.14 2 Filling gaps 2.94 3 An oral dialogue 2.84 4 Comprehension questions (e.g. true/false) about a short text 2.74 5 Listening to audio material (e.g. cassettes) 2.68 6 Listening to the teacher talking 2.68 7 Reading of short words/sentences 2.58 8 Role-playing and demonstrating actions 2.54 9 Identifying a picture from different descriptive texts 2.54 10 Creating learner’s own short sentences/texts 2.54 11 Solving grammatical activities 2.28 12 A young learner repeats and drills vocabulary or sentences 2.22 13 Copying words, short texts 2.16 14 Creating learner’s own long sentences/texts (e.g. letters) 1.98 15 Dictation 1.86 _ Table 9. The rank list of assessment activities according to its frequency ( x ) According to the table the most frequently used assessment activity is, regardless of the status of the teacher, matching. Then follow assessment activities with similar means: filling gaps, an oral dialogue, comprehension questions, listening to audio materials and to the teacher. These assessment activities focus on language practice, are cognitively simple and provide controlled, guided practice. In the second part of the rank list the following assessment activities appear: reading of short words/sentences, role-playing and demonstrating actions, identifying a picture from different descriptive texts, learner’s creating their own short sentences/texts. They provide opportunities to develop interaction and fluency, and provide young learners with more independence and choice. Less frequent are the next assessment activities: solving grammatical activities, a young learner repeats and drills vocabulary or sentences, copying words, short texts. The least frequent are creating learner’s own long sentences/texts (e.g. letters) and dictation. These assessment activities are cognitively more demanding and encourage production and creative use of language and so are difficult for some young learners. We have also noticed that teachers use vocabulary activities more frequently than grammatical and orthographical activities, probably because teachers want their learners to feel confident in the early stages of the target language learning. We have also analysed assessment activities according to the use of primary and foreign language teachers. Assessment activities Status The average rank /z/ P Filling gaps PT FLT 24.47 26.08 0.464 0.643 Matching PT FLT 24.75 25.92 0.339 0.734 Role-playing PT FLT 25.03 25.77 0.192 0.847 Copying words, short texts PT FLT 21.89 27.53 1.417 0.157 Comprehension questions (e.g. true/false) about a short text PT FLT 26.08 25.17 0.263 0.793 Dictation PT FLT 26.86 24.73 0.550 0.583 Solving grammatical activities PT FLT 21.56 27.72 1.501 0.133 Creating learner’s own short sentences/texts PT FLT 22.08 27.42 1.333 0.188 Listening to audio material (e.g. cassettes) PT FLT 27.00 24.66 0.576 0.565 An oral dialogue PT FLT 23.11 26.84 0.946 0.344 A young learner repeats and drills vocabulary or sentences PT FLT 26.94 24.94 0.383 0.701 Creating learner’s own long sentences/texts (e.g. letters) PT FLT 25.89 25.28 0.151 0.880 Reading of short words/sentences PT FLT 26.61 24.88 0.444 0.657 Listening to the teacher talking PT FLT 24.75 25.92 0.284 0.777 Identifying a picture from different descriptive texts PT FLT 29.11 23.47 1.438 0.150 Table 10: Results of the Mann-Whitney-U-Test (z-value) of differences between primary (PT) and foreign language teachers (FLT) according to the frequency of assessment activities As is evident from the table there are no statistically important differences between primary and foreign language teachers in using assessment activities in their foreign language classrooms (P < 0.05). However, we should highlight some assessment activities where the differences (though not statistically important) do occur. The following activities: copying words, short texts, solving grammatical activities and creating a learner’s own short sentences/texts are more frequently used by foreign language teachers. On the other hand, primary teachers more frequently use the assessment activity of identifying a picture from different descriptive texts. We assume that the reason for these results might be found in the knowledge of the methodology for teaching children. Primary teachers use a variety of activities and material (e.g. authentic) in their everyday teaching (in language and non-language subjects), whereas foreign language teachers need additional teacher training in methodology for working with young learners. .1. Teacher training in assessing pupils’ language development We analysed the existing assessment also from the viewpoint of teacher training in preparing and carrying out assessment of young learners. Status Teacher training PT FLT Total Result .2 .2-test P Yes 3 16.7% 6 18.8% 9 18.0% 0.034 0.854 No 15 83.3% 26 81.3% 41 82.0% Total 18 100.0% 32 100.0% 50 100.0% Table 11. The number (f) and percentage (f%) of primary (PT) and foreign language teachers (FLT) according to the teacher training in assessment and the results of .22-test The majority of teachers had had no additional teacher training in assessing pupils’ language development. Those (18%) who did participate in it were trained by national or local school authorities. There are no statistically important differences between primary and foreign language teachers. The results indicate that only a few teachers (18%), from among both primary and foreign language teachers, involved in this demanding and responsible job participated in the additional teacher training in assessment of young learners. To what extent they need additional training in assessment is shown in the next table. Except for two teachers, all others (96%) express the desire for additional teacher training in assessment of young learners. There are no statistically important differences between primary and foreign language teachers. Both teachers who do not express a need for additional teacher training in assessment of young learners are members of the foreign language teacher group, while all primary teachers express their wish for additional teacher training in assessment. 3.2 The analysis of teachers’ attitudes toward assessment of young learners We present teachers’ attitudes in the following areas: • taking over of the responsibility in assessment (preparation and performance of young learners’ assessment, responsibility for marking tests and keeping records) • presentation of assessment results • justification of young learners’ assessment. .2.1 Taking of the responsibility in assessment We analysed teachers’ beliefs about preparation and implementation of young learners’ assessment and about marking tests and keeping records. We present firstly data about the responsibility for preparation and performance of young learners’ assessment. Status Responsibility PT FLT Total Result .2 .2-test P Foreign language teacher 17 94.4% 30 93.8% 47 94.0% 0.010 0.921 Teachers’ committee at your school 5 27.8% 9 28.1% 14 28.0% 0.001 0.979 National school authority 1 5.6% 1 3.1% 2 4.0% 0.177 0.674 Local school authority 0 0% 1 3.1% 1 2% 0.574 0.449 Table 13. The number (f) and percentage (f%) of primary (PT) and foreign language teachers (FLT) according to teachers’ beliefs about the responsibility for preparation and performance of young learners’ assessment and the results of .22-test According to the table the belief prevails (94%) that the foreign language teacher alone is responsible for the preparation and performance of young learners’ assessment. The role of the foreign language teachers’ committee is not so important. National and school authorities are all but excluded from this process. There are also no statistically important differences between primary and foreign language teachers. The prevailing belief is taken as evidence of how foreign language teachers are in practice independent in their preparation and implementation of young learner assessment. Who is responsible for marking tests is evident from the next table. Status Responsibility PT FLT Total Result .2-test .2 P School Administration 1 5.6% 1 3.1% 2 4.0% 8.465 0.076 Learner 1 5.6% 0 0.0% 1 2.0% Foreign language teacher 13 72.2% 31 96.9% 44 88.0% Teachers’ Committee 3 16.7% 0 0.0% 3 6% Total 18 100.0% 32 100% 50 100.0% Table 14. The number (f) and percentage (f%) of primary (PT) and foreign language teachers (FLT) according to teachers’ beliefs about the responsibility of marking tests and the results of 2.22-test The majority of teachers (88%) believe that they are responsible for marking tests. Only a few see the teachers’ committee as responsible for marking. There are no statistically important differences between primary and foreign language teachers. However, there exists a slight tendency (P = 0.076) revealing that foreign language teachers are more unified in this opinion than primary teachers. Namely, primary teachers (16.7%) believe that the teachers’ committee is also responsible for marking tests. One primary teacher even believes that young learners are responsible for marking. Who is responsible for keeping young learners’ records is evident from the following table. Status Responsibility PT FLT Total Result .2-test .2 P School Administration 3 16.7% 2 6.3% 5 10.0% 2.040 0.564 Learner 1 5.6% 3 9.4% 4 8.0% Foreign language teacher 14 77.8% 27 84.3% 41 82.0% Teachers’ Committee 0 0.0% 0 0.0% 0 0.0% Total 18 100.0% 32 100.0% 50 100.0% Table 15. The number (f) and percentage (f%) of primary (PT) and foreign language teachers (FLT) according to teachers’ beliefs about the responsibility for keeping YL records and the results of .22- test The majority of teachers (82%) believe that they are responsible for keeping records on young learners. Only some (10%) believe that school administration and learners (8%) are responsible for keeping the records. There are no statistically important differences between the two types of teacher. The comparison of the responsibility for marking tests and keeping records shows that in both cases teachers believe that they should take the responsibility for these two actions. They expect more support from the school administration keeping young learners’ records than in marking tests. .2.2 Presentation of assessment results This issue deals with the question of who sees the results: the children, parents or administrators in the school. Status Seeing PT FLT Total Result .2 .2-test P Learner 17 94.4% 32 100.0% 49 98.0% 1.814 0.178 Parents 17 94.4% 32 100.0% 49 98.0% 1.814 0.178 Administrators in the school 2 11.1% 9 28.1% 11 22.0% 1.943 0.163 Table 16. The number (f) and percentage (f%) of primary (PT) and foreign language teachers (FLT) according to teachers’ beliefs about seeing the results and the results of 22.2-test Teachers believe (98%) that both children and parents have an equal right to see the results and are equally capable of understanding them; administrators in schools are not so important. There are no statistically important differences (P < 0.05) and no distinctive tendencies (P < 0.01) between primary and foreign language teachers. However, some frequencies indicate that all foreign language teachers show the assessment results to young learners and their parents, and also to administrators in schools in the higher percentage (28.1%) than primary teachers. It remains an unsolved question why there is a tendency for foreign language teachers to show the results more than primary teachers. The national curriculum does not state who should see the results. .2. Justification of young learners’ assessment We also analysed whether teachers agree with formal obligatory assessment (National Curriculum of Foreign Languages, 1998) of young learners and to which type of assessment they give priority (numerical, descriptive). Status Approval PT FLT Total Result .2 .2-test P Yes 15 83.3% 27 84.4% 42 84% 0.009 0.923 No 3 16.7% 5 15.6% 8 16% Total 18 100.0% 32 100.0% 50 100.0% Table 17. The number (f) and percentage (f%) of primary (PT) and foreign language teachers (FLT) according to their belief of approval of young learners’ assessment and the results of 2.22-test The majority of teachers (84%) approve of young learners’ assessment. There are no statistically important differences between the two groups of teachers. The teachers stated that young learners should be assessed for the following reasons: to motivate them for language learning; to observe or monitor learners’ progress; to get used to English comments; to encourage them to work on their weak points; to get feedback for their own work; to take their language learning more seriously, learners like to see how much they have learned; if young learners were not be assessed they would not learn at all. The teachers who do not approve of young learners’ assessment argued that it presents an additional stress for learners and that they are too young for any kind of assessment (some are in kindergarten; 5-6 year old learners) and that they are not capable of understanding why they are assessed. The extent to which the teachers agree with one of the formal assessment methods (numerical, descriptive) is evident from the next table. Status Approval PT FLT Total Result .2 .2-test P Comments 13 72.2% 22 68.7% 35 70.0% 0.744 0.689 Numerical grades 5 27.8% 10 31.3% 15 30.0% Total 18 100.0% 32 100.0% 50 100.0% Table 18. The number (f) and percentage (f%) of primary (PT) and foreign language teachers (FLT) according to their approval of young learners’ numerical or descriptive assessment and the results of 2.22-test The table shows that teachers agree more (70%) with the descriptive than numerical assessment of young learners. In this case there are no statistically important differences in the status. This indicates that teachers beliefs’ agree with the national school legislation (National Curriculum, 1998) which states descriptive assessment in stage 1 and a combination of descriptive and numerical assessment (marks) in stage 2. 4. Conclusion By means of a questionnaire adapted from that used by Rea-Dickins and, Rixon (1999) we carried out a survey of foreign language assessment of young learners in Slovenia. The sampling was carried out on the occasional sample of Slovenian primary and foreign language teachers who teach mostly English in the school year 2003/2004. Herewith we summarize some main points of the survey: 1. All teachers in accordance with the national school legislation (National Curriculum of Foreign Languages, 1998) assess young learners of foreign languages, numerically more often than with comments. 2. The most frequent use is made of classical tests devised by the teachers. Of other types of assessment the oral interview is used very often. Other (authentic) types, such as a language portfolio, are rare. 3. Teachers assess listening and speaking skills more often than reading, writing, orthography or grammar. They assess the active level of language knowledge. Vocabulary activities prevail over grammatical and orthographical activities. 4. The majority of Slovenian teachers were not additionally or formally trained for preparation and implementation of young learners’ assessment. They perceive an explicit need for additional teacher training. 5. Teachers believe that they are the most responsible for assessment (from preparation and performance through to marking tests and keeping records). They acknowledge the right of young learners and their parents to see the results. 6. The majority of teachers agree that young learners should be assessed in a foreign language, but more with descriptive than with numerical grades. 7. The statistical controlling of the teachers’ status shows that both in the area of teachers’ assessment in practice and in the area of teachers’ attitudes to assessment at the primary level there are no statistically important differences between primary and foreign language teachers; only some tendencies exist (e.g. more frequent descriptive assessment with primary teachers and more assessment of reading-writing than speaking skills). To sum up, on the one hand there is more frequent traditional numerical and writing-oral assessment of young learners, on the other hand there is often use of content and active skills (the emphasis is on listening skills and oral communication and vocabulary). Primary and foreign language teachers agree with the young learners’ assessment in principle, but for its qualitative performance they express the need for more knowledge (training). On the basis of the survey we have come to the following conclusions: 1. The homogeneity between the groups of primary and foreign language teachers in the areas of experiences and attitudes allows a reflection that the existing model of additional training for primary teachers in the area of foreign language teaching is successful and has reached, with regard to the topic of assessment, the same level as the university studies of foreign language teachers. However, we should focus on areas where some statistical tendencies towards differences between the 2 groups can be found, namely in the area of the frequency with which assessment takes place and the content and skills of passive language knowledge; primary teachers assess them more often than foreign language teachers. 2. Planned teacher training should be provided for both groups of teachers in the area of assessing the foreign language learning of primary school pupils. Bibliography Brewster, J., G. Ellis, and D. Girard. 2002. The Primary English Teacher’s Guide. Essex: Penguin English Guides. Ioannou-Georgiou, S., and P. Pavlou. 2003. Assessing Young Learners. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Rea-Dickins, P. and S. Rixon. 1999. Assessment of Young Learners’ English: Reasons and Means. In Young Learners of English: Some Research Perspectives, ed. S. Rixon, 89–101. Essex: Longman. National Curriculum of Foreign Languages. 1998. Ljubljana: Zavod RS za šolstvo (Board of Education). Živa Čeh university of Primorska turistica – College of tourism, Portorož Contrastive Exercises for Teaching Collocations Summary Itisgenerallyacceptednowthatlearnersofaforeignlanguageneedtohavecommandofdifferent word combinations, particularly collocations. However, in spite of the fact that collocations have recently been discussed by many linguists, there is still a lack of understanding of how word combinations, and among them collocations, are learned. It is of great importance that collocations are taught intensively to students who have already acquired the basis of a foreign language they wish to master. Collocations are also of the utmost importance in the study of language for specific purposes. Teachers of a foreign language try to approach this issue in different manners. This paper addresses different ways of making students aware of word combinations and their importance. Moreover, teachers of a foreign language are provided with some ideas for teaching collocations and correcting collocational errors students of a foreign language make when they write or speak. Some mistakes made by Slovene speakers of English are listed. The paper also provides some examples of exercises that may be of help when correcting collocational errors made by Slovene speakers of English. Finally, there is some information about different types of dictionaries. Key words: foreign language teaching, contrastive approach, collocations. Vaje za poučevanje kolokacij Povzetek Danes se jezikoslovci na splošno strinjajo, da je pri učenju tujega jezika zelo pomembno, da obvladamo različne besedne zveze, posebej kolokacije. Čeprav so kolokacije v zadnjem času pogosto predmet obravnave v različnih člankih in raziskavah, pa še vedno ne vemo zagotovo, kako se jih v tujem jeziku naučimo. Kolokacije so posebej pomembne tudi pri učenju jezika stroke, saj predstavljajo velik del besedišča pri posameznih strokah. Poučevanja kolokacij se učitelji tujega jezika lotevamo na različne načine. V tem prispevku so opisani nekateri načini poučevanja kolokacij s posebnim poudarkom na odpravljanju napak, ki so tipične za slovenske govorce angleščine. Na koncu je tudi kratka informacija o slovarjih, ki so nam na razpolago. Ključne besede: poučevanje tujega jezika, kontrastivni pristop, kolokacije. Contrastive Exercises for Teaching Collocations 1. Introduction I would like to start this article by pointing out that different word combinations pose different problems for non-native speakers. On the one hand, there are idioms, fixed word combinations, which might be difficult to decode, translate from a foreign language into the mother tongue since they are semantically opaque and the words they consist of usually do not retain their literal meanings. When we say It’s raining cats and dogs we do not speak about cats and dogs but a heavy downpour. However, it must be added that idioms are not very often found in the language of native speakers. On the other hand, there are collocations, recurrent loosely fixed word combinations in which words more or less retain their literal meanings. The expression a whirlwind tour is not the only word combination in which the word tour occurs. On the contrary, there are numerous expressions in which we can find this word: we can say a foreign/ international/national/overseas/world/city tour or simply tour and similarly the first word can be found in other word combinations or on its own. In the process of decoding, most collocations do not create serious problems for non-native speakers since we can to a certain extent rely on the meanings of individual words. Nevertheless, this cannot be said for the process of encoding, translating from our mother tongue into a foreign language. When non-native speakers do not know a particular collocation in a foreign language they are also ignorant as to whether this collocation consists of the predictable translational equivalents of the words in the collocation in their mother tongue. Let me illustrate this with the following examples. Slovene speakers of English sometimes speak about sea water and *sweet water; the first collocation is correct, whereas the second one is wrong because of the simple fact that in English another collocation expresses the same meaning as the Slovene collocation sladka voda. If you look up the individual words in a Slovene-English dictionary, everything is clear, sladka is sweet and voda is water, so the translation you come up with should be correct. It would be, of course, if it were not a collocation that is different in English, where native speakers would never think of using it; they say fresh water. While students of tourism very often speak about a freshwater lake in Fiesa (Slovenia), its water sometimes erroneously becomes sweet. More mistakes made by Slovene speakers of English stemming from the cross-linguistic influence are: *typical for (typical of), *to cook coffee (to make coffee), *to go on coffee (to have a cup of coffee), *interested for (interested in), *good in (good at), *allergic on (allergic to), *married with (married to), *depend of (depend on). Gabrovšek (1998, 129) mentions some more interesting examples, such as *a clock shows time (a clock tells time), *a high age (an advanced age), *angel guardian (guardian angel). In this article I am not going to focus on the reason why collocational mistakes are made by non-native speakers, but rather on some ways of making students of a foreign language aware of the fact that collocations can be different in different languages and that we simply have to learn them. I have chosen collocations for the simple reason that they are very common and difficult to learn. 2. Collocations Firth (1957, 181) wrote that: “Collocations of a given word are statements of the habitual or customary places of that word in collocational order but not in any other contextual order and emphatically not in any grammatical order. The collocation of a word or a ‘piece’ is not to be regarded as mere juxtaposition; it is an order of mutual expectancy. The words are mutually expectant and mutually prehended”. And since he said that “You shall know a word by the company it keeps” (Firth 1957, 179), many linguists have been sharing an interest in collocations. To have a clearer understanding of the individual types of collocations, I quote Benson, who writes in the introduction to Dictionary of English Word Combinations (Benson et al. 1997, xv): “In English, as in other languages, there are many fixed, identifiable, non-idiomatic phrases and constructions. Such groups of words are called recurrent combinations, fixed combinations, or collocations. Collocations fall into two major groups: grammatical collocations and lexical collocations.” Grammatical collocations are combinations of a dominant word and a preposition or grammatical structure such as an infinitive or clause, for example account for, accuse (somebody) of, adapt to, agonize over, aim at; and further, the words cannot be replaced by other words, for example *account over or *accuse somebody on. Benson et al. (ibid, xvi) list eight types of grammatical collocations: -noun + preposition, for example apathy towards, -noun + to infinitive, for example an attempt to do something, -noun + that clause, for example an agreement that he should, -preposition + noun, for example by accident, -adjective + preposition, for example fond of, -predicate adjective + to infinitive, for example necessary to work, -adjective + that clause, for example afraid that, -verb patterns, for example send something to somebody, and seven types of lexical collocations: -verb + noun/pronoun, for example make an impression, -verb meaning essentially eradication or nullification + noun, for example reject an appeal, -adjective + noun, for example strong/weak tea, -noun + verb, for example alarms go off/ring/sound, -noun indicating a unit + noun, for example a pride of lions, -adverb + adjective, for example strictly accurate and -verb + adverb, for example amuse thoroughly. This is just one possible classification of collocations; many authors have come up with different types. In the introduction to the recently published Oxford Collocations Dictionary for Students of English (2002) we find the following types: adjective + noun (bright light), qualifier + noun (a beam of light), verb + noun (shed light), noun + verb (light gleams), noun + noun (a light source), preposition + noun (by the light of the moon), noun + preposition (the light from the window), adverb + verb (choose carefully), verb + verb (be free to choose), verb + preposition (choose between two things), verb + adjective (declare something safe), adverb + adjective (environmentally safe), adjective + preposition (safe from attack), short phrases including the headword (the speed of light, safe and sound). Though I do not find such classifications of paramount importance, it is useful to read them to get an impression of what type of word combinations are commonly considered to be collocations. . Teaching collocations Whyteach collocationsto studentsofaforeign languageat all? Afterall,manylinguistsagreethat using wrong collocations does not cause a communicational breakdown. It might occasionally sound funny, but speakers still make themselves understood. Nevertheless, knowing and using right collocations brings non-native speakers closer to native speakers of the language and enables them to say precisely what they mean, not to mention the fact that language for specific purposes consists of numerous collocations typical of that particular field. Consider the following collocations: a(n) direct/easy/free/wheelchair access, a human-made/major/ natural/ tourist attraction, a confirmed/provisional booking, a sightseeing/courtesy bus, airport/dining/eating/ hotel/room facilities, a tourist/tour guide, off-peak/shoulder months, a honey-pot site, acquired taste, the high/low season, dry/wet lease, a chartered/scheduled/domestic flight, a bucket-and-spade/ package holiday, to audit/close/open/ settle an account, to satisfy/whet somebody’s appetite, to cater for customers/tourists, to protect/clean up/ preserve/pollute the environment, to allocate a room/seat, to fill/ have a vacancy, to check/claim one’s luggage, to notify the next of kin, a pre-arranged/tentative itinerary, out of/(with)in sight, typical of, on offer, recommend highly/strongly, to travel widely/light, fully/highly qualified, a leg/stretch of a journey, in the lap of luxury, next of kin. There are just some of the examples of collocations typical of the language of tourism (Čeh 2001, 91–112). Furthermore, language for specific purposes is a very important knowledge area students need and expect to acquire at tertiary institutions that they are attending (Jurković 2002, 113). Generally speaking, teaching collocations means also (Lewis 2000, 13) furthering the understanding of what words mean and how they are used, recycling half-known words, accelerating learning and bringing useful collocations to students’ attention. For students of tourism this means knowing the language of tourism. To begin with, collocations are everywhere: in the videos we watch, the course books we use, the texts we read and listen to. We just have to pay attention and maybe change the way we approach the text. Instead of asking students whether there are any words they do not understand, we should call their attention to word combinations, to words they already know, but do not know how to combine with other words. Collocations also prove to be very useful when we try to explain the differences between words. Instead of explaining different meanings, we can come up with different collocations of individual words. The difference between two words does not always lie in dictionary definitions but in collocational fields (Lewis 2000, 13). For example, wound and injury. Bahns (1993, 109) says that collocations should be taught and that a learner’s knowledge of collocations does not develop parallel to their knowledge of vocabulary. Howarth (1998, 35) investigated the use of collocations by native speakers in comparison to non-native speakers and came to the conclusion that native speaker collocational density was 38%, whereas the percentage with non-native speakers was 25%, ranging from as little as 13% up to 33%. Howarth writes that there is no clear evidence of a direct correlation between overall language proficiency and accurate use of collocations; proficient learners might make even more errors, blending parts of different collocations. In my own, not so distant past, any dealing with an authentic text in the classroom was followed by my question whether there were any words students did not understand. Recently I have been asking if students have noticed any useful phrases. After listening or reading we collect useful chunks of language, not only collocations but all ready-made pieces they can retrieve later on when they speak or write. After watching a video about national parks we were able to collect the following extremely useful chunks of language: two main purposes of national parks, conservation of the landscape, promotion of the area for public enjoyment, the national park was designated in 1929, there are several honey-pot sites, prevent erosion, reinforce the river banks, the clash between local population and visitors, traffic congestion, build footpaths, prevent pollution, etc. In the course book (Čeh 2003, 10) each listening or reading activity is followed by a list of prefabricated chunks of language from the authentic texts and students are encouraged to add as many as they can remember. There are also numerous exercises with collocations, such as matching, filling in the blanks, and grouping. Also the words that are listed in exercises are later on used in collocations and larger chunks of language. 4. Contrastive approach However, such collocational exercises were just the beginning. Subsequently I realised that as a teacher of the foreign language I was supposed to deal with the mistakes that students repeatedly made in their writing or speaking. I started collecting them and including them in new exercises. Over time it became obvious that it would be irrational to limit the choice to collocations only and I included other types of word combinations as well. I wanted to put word combinations in context and since I hated separate sentences I asked my friend who is a native speaker of English to help me produce short passages of text, the mistakes in which the students are expected to correct. This is usually done in groups and students are encouraged to come to grips with the text by means of collocational dictionary or any other dictionary that might be helpful. A typical example of such exercises would be the following two texts that are given to students for correction. This is the paper I give to my students: Is there a better way of saying it? Cruising was before thought of as a holiday you take just one time in your life. It now competes with holidays that include more components and when you buy it you really get what you paid for. You must not forget that it is a holiday that includes all meals. Cruise companies give passengers food of good quality and you can usually get it at any time. Another reason for the fact that cruising is becoming more popular is that you can choose between different offers. There are cruises to each country of the world offering what different age groups want to buy. More and more tourists want to buy cruises which offer something to people with a particular interest. They organize lectures on a ship and they include different topics. You do not have to pay extra to attend lectures. It is now possible to choose between so many different topics that it is important to choose carefully. Luxurious boats will take you to many different places tourists go to. All cabins have their own bathroom and air-condition. Cruise ships usually offer outside swimming-pools and also some other equipment. The picture most people have of cruising has changed very much. And this is an example of how my students should correct the text: Cruising was formerly thought of as a once-in-a-lifetime holiday. It now competes with package holidays for value for money. You have to bear in mind that it is a full board holiday. Cruise companies provide quality food usually available round the clock. Another reason for the growing popularity of cruising is the choice on offer. There are cruises all over the world catering for all age groups. There is a growing demand for special interest cruises. They organize lectures on board which cover a wide range of topics. Lectures are free of charge. The choice is now so wide that it is important to select carefully. Luxurious boats will take you to numerous holiday resorts. All cabins have en-suite facilities and air conditioning. Cruise ships usually offer outdoor swimming-pools as well as some other facilities. The cruising picture has changed dramatically. And another example of a different exercise: Fill in the blanks. I’d like to introduce you to my friend who studies with me because she is interested ______ catering. She is good ______ combining recipes which are typical ______ the different regions in our country. She is also aware _______ the different needs of our potential customers who might be allergic ______ a variety of ingredients. She considers herself fortunate because she is married ______ a chef who works the same unsociable hours as she does. How they spend their free time depends ______ the season. They are both keen ______ outdoor activities, in the winter they go cross-country skiing and in the summer diving. A thorough analysis of the mistakes students make might show that most of them are made because of the collocations in the Slovene language and this is why I call this approach contrastive. As I have mentioned earlier, I do not aim to analyse the reasons for mistakes, but rather to help students correct them. In order to be able to use different types of dictionaries students need to be given some basic information about them. Bilingual dictionaries often do not prove to be very helpful when looking up word combinations (we are looking forward to the publication of the new Slovene-English dictionary as it is expected that many more collocations will be included in it). Since unfortunately there is no bilingual collocational dictionary available for Slovene speakers of English, we use English dictionaries of collocations. The problem with monolingual collocational dictionaries is that they were written for “everybody” and not for any particular group of speakers of the language. Slovene speakers of English are often unable to find in the English collocational dictionary the collocations that are difficult for them. The problem is further compounded when the user starts looking up word combinations typical of the language for specific purposes. Logically many of them are not included since the dictionary is not meant to cover that particular field completely. . Conclusion It is evident that collocations are a very important feature in languages. In order to be able to express ourselves accurately and precisely, we have to learn, apart from the grammar and vocabulary of a foreign language, word combinations, particularly collocations. Unlike some other word combinations such as idioms, collocations are used all the time by native speakers. They are very difficult for a non-native speaker to learn, since in some of them words may be replaced and in others not. One of the tasks of a foreign language teacher is to make students aware of the importance of collocations, encourage them to study collocations and help them find appropriate and efficient ways of doing so. Bibliography Bahns, J., and M. Eldaw. 1993. Should we Teach EFL Students Collocations? System 21, no. 1: 101–14. Benson, M., E. Benson, and R. Ilson. 1997. The BBI Dictionary of English Word Combinations. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Cowie, A., ed. 1998. Phraseology: Theory, Analysis and Application. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Čeh, Ž. 2001. Angleško-slovenska protistavna leksikalna analiza jezika turizma. Unpublished MA dissertation. Ljubljana: Filozofska fakulteta. – – –. 2003. Course Book for First Year Students. Portorož: Turistica, Visoka šola za turizem. Firth, J.R. 1957. A Synopsis of Linguistic Theory 1930–55. In Selected Papers of J. R. Firth 1952–59, ed. F. Palmer, 1–32. Longmans: London, 1968. Gabrovšek, D. 1998. Coping with Stubborn Stains and Persistent Headaches – for What it’s Worth: Word Combinability in Action. Vestnik 32, no. 1–2: 111–54. Howarth, P. 1998. Phraseology and Second Language Proficiency. Applied Linguistics 19, no. 1: 24–44. Jurković, V. 2002. Analiza potreb pri pouku angleščine za študijski program tehnologija prometa na Fakulteti za pomorstvo in promet. Unpublished MA dissertation. Ljubljana: Filozofska fakulteta. Lewis, M., ed. 2000. Teaching Collocation. Hove: LTP. Oxford Collocations Dictionary. 2002. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Soča Fidler univerza v Ljubljani Pedagoška fakulteta The Portfolio – a More Responsible Student – a Less Stressed-out Teacher Summary The article warns against the negative impacts of external assessment. These impacts are already noticeable in Slovenia, specifically and mainly in the teaching approach and learning efforts used for taking the standardised Matura exams. There is a narrowing of overall learning goals and a neglecting of the areas that, although vital for students’ development, are not assessed in the exams themselves; as well, there are increased stress levels before and during the exams, which could result in a poorer performance. The article then proposes a portfolio approach in which students set their own learning goals, pursue them, reflect both on their achievements and alternative ways to make better progress. The portfolio approach lends itself extremely well to developing a student’s writing skills gradually, as the awareness of learning goals and the setting of one’s own, in combination with self-assessment and reflection are better motivators than just following preset objectives. Key words: portfolio, learning goals, self-assessment, reflection, autonomy Portfolio – bolj odgovoren učenec (študent) – manj obremenjen učitelj Povzetek Članek opozarja na negativne učinke zunanjega preverjanja, ki se že kažejo tudi v Sloveniji, kot so poučevanje in učenje za maturo in s tem ožanje učnih ciljev ter zanemarjanje vsebin, ki niso preverjane na maturi (vendar so še kako pomembne za učenčev razvoj), pa tudi povečan stres pred in v času izpitov ter za marsikaterega učenca zaradi tega tudi slabši rezultati. V nadaljevanju predlaga portfolijski pristop z zastavljanjem osebnih učnih ciljev, zasledovanjem le-teh, refleksijo o doseženem ter možnih načinih za boljši lastni napredek. Portfolijski pristop je nadvse primeren za postopno razvijanje pisne zmožnosti, pri čemer uzaveščanje in zastavljanje učnih ciljev, samo-ocenjevanje ter refleksija motivirajo dijake bolj kot zgolj zasledovanje vnaprej določenih ciljev. Ključne besede: portfolio, učni cilji, samoocenjevanje, refleksija, avtonomija The Portfolio – a More Responsible Student – A Less Stressed-out Teacher 1. Introduction With Slovenia joining the EU, the comparability of knowledge and competences of its citizens is not only desired but also essential, if mobility and thus the exchange of knowledge are to be enabled or even encouraged. The Slovene education system has traditionally been more focused on acquiring knowledge than developing competences and skills; therefore demands for change have been put forward more frequently over the last two decades. A rather radical move in the direction of laying more emphasis on competences was made with the introduction of external examinations at the secondary level in 1995, namely through the standardized Matura, which was aimed at higher-order thinking skills. At the beginning, this secondary-school leaving exam consisting of five subjects brought about some positive changes, as secondary school teachers keenly attended Matura seminars in order to find out more about the format of the exam as well as about the suggested methods for reaching the Matura objectives effectively and in a student-friendly manner. One of the primary aims of making Slovene secondary schools more comparable in terms of the desired learning outcomes seemed to have been successfully pursued, if not reached. However, very soon after the introduction of the Matura, some English teachers started to warn the testing committee of the danger of losing a creative dimension in the teaching process, as classroom activities were mainly targeted at teaching to the tests. This was more or less an expected result, as the Matura scores are attached to ‘high stakes’ (enrolment in most of the faculties depends on the number of the achieved points in the Matura). What was experienced in Slovene secondary schools seemed to be very similar to what had been reported about the negative consequences of external testing elsewhere in the world, e.g. in Canada and the USA (Koretz, Stecher, Anderson, Bachor, 1998; Linn, 2000): though exam results were satisfactory, they came at the expense of innovative forms of instruction. “Areas particularly neglected are those related to creativity and personal and social development” (Gordon & Reese 1997; Leonard & Davey 2001 in Harlen 2003, 199). “Even when not teaching directly to the tests, teachers reported changing their approach. They adjusted their teaching in ways they perceived as necessary because of the tests, spending most time in direct instruction and less in providing opportunity for students to learn through enquiry and problem-solving” (Johnston & McClune 2000 in Harlen 2003, 199). “The review of Deci and Ryan (1985) also provides research evidence that assessment of the kind that takes away control from the learners reduces intrinsic motivation and leads to ‘surface’ learning” (Harlen 2003, 171). Moreover, “there was considerable evidence from a range of countries and across academic subjects, of a negative relationship between test anxiety and test performance” (ibid., 172). The Slovene public, mainly composed of informed and worried parents, also started to raise their voices against this race for points, which leads to a lot of additional stress for the whole family. In 1998, almost at the same time as the first negative effects of external testing in Slovenia were noticed and drawn attention to, a European language portfolio project was started. The language portfolio launched by the Council of Europe was a relatively novel tool, although general portfolios as its forerunners had been present in Great Britain, the United States and Canada for a few decades, struggling to fill the gap between the benefits and disadvantages of external testing, which was still seen by many testers as a necessary – i.e. the most reliable and valid way – of assessment. The language portfolio, despite some shortcomings, does seem to be a promising document that gives students and teachers some of their well deserved autonomy in the classroom, and could be considered a valid means of continuous assessment, encouraging students to invest conscious effort in learning throughout their education, thus hopefully equipping them with the necessary strategies for lifelong learning. In the continuation of the paper, two proposals will be made: one, to integrate the language portfolio assessment of the writing skill into the English Matura (or preferably, the Matura in foreign languages as the procedure could apply to any foreign language) as one of its component parts; and another, to include university students’ individual work as an obligatory part that will carry a certain weight in the final grade. 2. Portfolio approach – a way to learner independence 2.1 Self-assessment The European Language Portfolio is a personal document of students’ achievements and progress, which helps students compare their levels of language competences and skills with those described in the Common European Framework of Reference for Languages. It is a valuable instrument designed for developing student responsibility towards their own learning, thus boosting their self-confidence, and assisting the teacher, as students set their own objectives within the set curriculum or even beyond it. It encourages self-teaching and student-centredness and contains a six-level assessment scale intended for the student’s self-assessment (self-evaluation) and the teacher’s co-assessment. Assessment is important information bearing serious consequences and requiring great responsibility on the assessor’s part. It should be as accurate as possible and since tests and teachers are not sensitive enough to reflect small changes in the student’s performance, it is only normal that it should involve the assessee as well. According to Heidt (1979 in Oskarsson 1992, 17), who wrote one of the first studies on self-assessment, informal self-assessment is an integral part of all human activities. The studies carried out at the beginning of the 1980s (Oskarsson 1992) showed that adults and university students are capable of assessing their language competences quite realistically. Von Elek’s studies (1981, 1982 in Oskarsson, ibid.) also reported on increased learning motivation of adult learners during the self-assessment process. A more recent study (McDonald & Boud 2003, 217) showed that “On average, students with self-assessment training outperformed their peers who had been exposed to teaching without such training in all curriculum areas.” Classroom teachers qualified to teach English to young learners at the Faculty of Education in Ljubljana, when asked whether they would like to be able to assess their work, responded positively, although, later in the process, some of them said that the self-assessment experience was very useful but not tremendously enjoyable. A study carried out on a modest scale showed that in 62.5% of the cases the student’s self-assessment without any prior training agreed with the teacher’s assessment, which was sometimes based on the results of objective tests and sometimes only on her recollection of their work in class. In a discussion the students stated that they had felt insecure while assessing their work and expressed a wish to have test specimens for each level as guidance. 75% of the students included in the study claimed that the self-assessment check-lists motivated them to study. Indeed, a slightly better performance in writing, reading and listening was noticed while the students were intensively engaged in the portfolio approach (Fidler 2000). Self-assessment, if trained over a period of time, and monitored by the teacher, seems to be quite a realistic goal. The secondary school curriculum for English foresees self-assessment (self-evaluation and self-assessment as part of the portfolio) as one of the assessment modes, so it can be assumed that self-assessment is to be encouraged and even incorporated into the final grade. It is also a way to slowly develop a student into a more responsible learner. 50% of the students included in the study at the Faculty of Education, Ljubljana claimed they were becoming more responsible learners (did the others perhaps feel they were responsible even before or did they not experience any benefits?); what is more, 81.3% of those students liked their new responsibility. It is worth noting that a feeling of greater responsibility increased with the age of the students. 37.5% of the students also claimed they had become more active in the learning process in class (Fidler 2000). Further evidence in favour of self-assessment comes from the answers of the Slovene primary and university teachers who participated in the European Language Portfolio Project: 13 out of 18 teachers claimed that their students were capable of assessing their language competences (Čok in Fidler, Interim report on Portfolio of Languages in Slovenia, 2000). 2.2 Example of introducing portfolio assessment at the secondary level One of the ways of motivating students for portfolio self-assessment at the beginning of the first year could be to reflect on the learning process and assessment, e.g.: 1. What do you think your role should be in the learning process? 2. What do you think the teacher’s role should be in the teaching process? 3. Are you always happy with the marks that you get? 4. Would you like to be able to mark your work and then compare your mark with the teacher’s? Why (not)? 5. What would you need to be able to assess your English (German, French etc.)? 6. Would you like to use the same self-assessment criteria as your peers in other European countries? Why (not)? After answering such questions in pairs, students are made aware that it is they who should be in charge of the learning process, not only at home but also at school. Generally, they are very enthusiastic about the possibility of being able to assess their work using the same self-assessment scales as students do in other European countries. They also come to the conclusion that in order to reach the goal of becoming competent assessors, they will need criteria, self-assessment scales and practice (standardisation). The next step is to introduce students to the concept of different levels of competence. For example, students can be faced with a descriptor of reading comprehension at three levels (Little & Perclová 2001) and asked to rank them from the lowest to the highest level (Here they are put in the right order but the teacher should present them in a mixed order to make students aware of the differences between them). EXAMPLE: I can understand the main points in short newspaper articles about current and familiar topics. (B1) I can read and understand articles and reports on current problems in which the writers express specific attitudes and points of view. (B2) I can read complex reports, analyses and commentaries where opinions, viewpoints and connections are discussed. (C1) After students justify their decision on ranking the can-do statements, thus also being made aware of different objectives, they can be given the descriptors of the level they should have reached by the end of primary school (A2) to tick the statements, once if they are able to do a certain thing and twice if they can do that easily. In this way, students not only give important information about themselves to the foreign language teacher at the beginning of the year, but are also made to reflect on their own strengths and weaknesses and indirectly about their learning goals. “Research indicates that students with learning goals (also known as task involved or mastery goals) show more evidence of superior learning strategies, have a higher sense of competence as learners, show greater interest in school work and have more positive attitudes to school than do students with performance goals” (Ames 1990a, b; Dweck 1992 in Harlen 2003, 175). The teacher now gives students the self-assessment checklists of the next level (B1) and tells them that these are the goals they should reach in two years’ time, some of them earlier and the others later. Students can read the descriptors for the next level at home and tick their objectives for that year. Setting oneself objectives is essential, but the teacher should tell the students to be realistic when setting objectives for themselves. The range of skills and competences of one level is too broad, and being confronted with too many objectives is certainly frightening and off-putting for students, so afterwards the teacher and students should shorten the list to include more tangible, short-term objectives (attainable in half a year or a year, and in line with the syllabus). This is a good way for students to get to know what they will have to master by the end of the year, and they are guided, at least at the beginning, towards setting goals for themselves. Some examples of self-assessment checklists – B1 level (adapted Swiss version of the European Language Portfolio in Little & Perclová 2001) 1 -Me 2 – My teacher 3 – My objectives ! Use the symbols below in columns 1 and 2 This is an objective for me! . -I can do this under normal circumstances This is a priority for me!! .. -I can do this easily Me My teacher My obj. Reading comprehension Me My teacher My obj. 1 2 3 • I can understand the main points in short newspaper articles about current and familiar topics. (B1) • I can guess the meaning of single, unknown words from the context if the topic is familiar. (B1) • I can understand the plot of a clearly structured story and recognise what the most important episodes and events are and what is significant about them. (B1) Listening comprehension • I can understand the main points inTV programmes on familiar topics when the delivery is relatively slow and clear. (B1) • I can listen to a short narrative and form hypotheses about what will happen next. (B1) Language quality • I have sufficient vocabulary to express myself with some circumlocutions on most topics pertinent to my everyday life. (B1) • I can pronounce newly taught words correctly. (Teacher’s proposal) • I can use the present and past tense in the active and passive correctly. (1st-year syllabus) The blank box after each skill or competence is for students to add their own personal objectives and to make them think about them. The first column is meant for the student to assess his/her skill or competence later on in the process, whereas the second column is meant for the teacher to co-assess the student. 2.3 Setting objectives and thinking of ways to achieve them The teacher asks the students to put down one objective they would like to achieve first, either one from the list or their own, and to think about what they need for that. Students discuss their objectives and how they think they could achieve them in small groups. This is extremely important because they learn from each other and motivate each other. Together, they decide on the criteria for monitoring their progress. Components of the criteria to be defined with the students could be: • what I have learnt from the activity(ies) • how much effort I put into my work • how much progress I have made in a certain area • approximately how much time I spent on the activity (ies) There could also be a provision against speculation: the student who does not bring any evidence of work cannot get a positive mark (1 – I did not pursue a goal). Together, they also decide on the due date for their folders containing the description of their short-term objective(s) and their achievement as well as evidence of what they actually did. The questions to be answered and included in their portfolio could be structured as follows: • What was my goal? • Have I achieved it? • A brief description of the activities that helped me achieve (or partly achieve) my goal. • What have I learnt in the process? • How satisfied am I with the outcome of my work? • Could I have achieved my goal in another way? The last question is also crucially important as students reflect on other, perhaps better and more efficient ways of achieving the same objective in the light of the process they have gone through. Students are also asked to include evidence (e.g. the grammar exercises they have done, the books or articles they have read, the stories, essays and/or letters they have written, the titles of the programmes they have watched) and their self-assessment, the form of which was previously discussed and agreed on e.g.: For the work I did from _____ to_______ (dates), I give myself grade 12 345 Explanation: The teacher should collect the students’ portfolios, read through their reflections, give them feedback (starting with the positive comments) and give some advice if necessary (which should create a bond between the teacher and the student). The last point is not to be overlooked, especially if the teacher notices that a student who needs to improve a certain skill or competence repeatedly focuses on other, perhaps more pleasurable activities; however, caution on the teacher’s part is absolutely necessary in order not to kill the student’s motivation. The portfolio becomes a means of personal communication between the teacher and the student in order to help the student reach an optimal level of language competence. Comments should also include the teacher’s agreement or disagreement with the student’s self-assessment. The grade that has been finally agreed on must be officially recorded. Reading a student’s portfolio and writing comments is time-consuming, however it is also very interesting for the teacher to find out about the student’s perceptions of his/her abilities, interests, learning strategies and progress. After the student’s first experience of setting himself/herself a learning goal, attempts at achieving it and the reflection on the whole process, there should be an open discussion with everybody reporting on what should be changed in the procedure, what worked well, and whether students think this is worth continuing. Some students might have second thoughts about setting their own goals and assessing their work as they consider that to be the teacher’s exclusive role, but there are always some students who realise the benefits of planning their own learning and in this way slowly becoming independent of the teacher (who certainly cannot cover all the students’ needs efficiently). Listening to each other’s ideas is extremely useful and also productive. Then the teacher asks the students to set another goal for themselves, which can be to build on the first one or perhaps something else. The whole procedure is repeated, bearing in mind students’ suggestions of improvements. The frequency of students working on their own goals should be agreed on in class. In the process, students learn to think about their own goals, are made aware of appropriate learning strategies, monitor their own progress much more sensitively than the teacher or tests do, build up a more positive self-image, as they are not compared with other students (but compete with themselves and aim at improvement), and gradually develop into managers of their own future. In the third year, the goals could include preparation for the Matura tasks, e.g.: Writing • I can develop an argument systematically in a composition (essay) or report, emphasising decisive points and including supporting details. (B2 and Matura) • I can write clear and detailed texts (compositions, reports or texts of presentations) on various topics related to my field of interest. (B2 and Matura) • I can write a short review of a film or a book. (B2 and Matura) • I can express in a personal letter different feelings and attitudes and can report the news of the day making it clear what, in my opinion, are the important aspects of an event. (B2 and Matura) • I can write formal letters, e.g. a letter of application, complaint, enquiry. (Matura) As students learn to identify their learning goals from the first year on, and slowly develop their learning strategies and their self-assessment ability by including conscious efforts, they should be entitled to some autonomy within the high-stakes Matura in order to lessen the negative impacts of the externally set exam. 2.4 Portfolio approach leading to student autonomy within the Matura exam As the portfolio approach (setting one’s own learning goals, pursuing them, self-assessment, reflection on one’s achievements and alternative ways of reaching one’s learning goals) has a lot of advantages over externally set objectives and tasks, it should play a major role in the learning process and should be given credit in the school-leaving exam with its far-reaching consequences. For students and teachers to assume part of what is now externally assessed, teachers would have to be trained and standardised (a prerequisite even now for the students’ own good) to be as comparable in their requirements, expectations and assessment as possible (absolute objectivity within these parameters is an unattainable goal). The skill ideally lending itself to the portfolio approach is certainly writing. In the four-year learning process, the written tasks – whose assessment is the most problematic area in the externally assessed exam as well – would be assessed by the student and the teacher. In the fourth year, students would write two essays and letters under exam conditions at their school, and would choose the two tasks they would like to be externally assessed by the subject teachers of their school (beforehand, photocopies would be given to students to make a conscious and informed decision). The tasks and their assessment, if teachers were trained and standardised, would be the responsibility of schools (the so-much-talked-about autonomy would finally be a factor). However, to avoid any kind of deviation from the Matura requirements, the chief examiner and the subject testing committee would pick students’ writing tasks at random and check whether they were in line with the Matura objectives and whether teachers have assessed the assignments properly. In this way, though all the schools would be under some supervision or the threat of supervision, there would be two positive impacts: the Matura exam would be shorter, and students and teachers would be more involved in the testing process, which would play a positive role in students’ learning (Leonard & Davey 2001; Little 1994 in Harlen 2003, 201). . Portfolio approach at the university level 3.1 Example of procedure Students used to assuming responsibility for their own learning at the secondary, if not already at the primary level, would naturally expect the same approach to continue at university. At the Faculty of Education in Ljubljana, the approach has been applied for several years in the Early English Language Teacher Training Programme and it seems to be working well. At the beginning of the year, students are given an introductory letter (see below) to read and discuss, first in pairs, and later together as a group. They all like the idea that they should develop their language skills and competences on their own too, as they are aware that it is themselves who know their needs best. Some proposals are then made as to what they could do as their individual work, although they are encouraged to pursue their own learning goals. They have to present their work and, after some comments are made by the presenter’s colleagues (starting with the positive ones), students also reflect on what could have been done differently in the whole process, which helps presenters to see the content and the approach to their presentation from other perspectives, thus broadening everybody’s experience. It is worth noting that presenters, apart from their own reflective evaluation, almost always include other students’ ideas in their written reflections, giving their colleagues credit for them, and hopefully also using them for later reference. When the teacher gets the students’ reflections (preferably in the next lesson), she reads them through and adds her own comments, starting with the positive ones, but also pointing out the language mistakes made in speaking and writing. The portfolio is returned to the student and the presenter’s final task is to assess his/her work and presentation according to the criteria that were discussed and agreed on at the beginning of the year. The teacher co-assesses the student’s work and presentation and delivers the final mark; it is interesting that this total is rarely different from the student’s own assessment. The total of the points is then converted into a grade, and the average of the two grades (as two pieces of individual work are done per year) is considered to be worth one third of the final grade, the other two parts being the grades for the written (based on three tests), and the oral exam. Conversion table: 20 -19 points -grade 10; 18 -17 points -grade 9; 16 -15 points -grade 8; 14 -13 points -grade 7; 12 -10 points -grade 6 Introductory letter1 Dear Student, Before proposing a new approach to assessment, we would like you to answer a few questions to check whether your philosophy of learning/teaching agrees with the philosophy of your teachers. 1. What do you think your role in the learning process should be? 2. What should the teacher’s role be in the teaching process? 3. What skills/abilities do you need to cope with the ever changing knowledge in the world? 4. How long do you think it takes to master a foreign language? 5. What do you think the aims of this course are? 6. Would you like to be able to mark your work and then compare your mark with the teacher’s? Why (not)? 7. What would you need to be able to assess your English? 8. Would you like to use the same self-assessment criteria as students in other European countries? Why (not)? Here is our proposal to include you as an active participant in the assessment process. Besides the conventional Written and Oral Exam, we are introducing another equally important part -Individual Work. Please read a brief description of each part. 1. WRITTEN EXAM: There are three written examinations administered at equal intervals between October and June. The content of the tests will be discussed with your teacher. 2. ORAL EXAM: There is one end-of-the-year oral examination in which you demonstrate your speaking skills. You will be asked to discuss different issues in pairs. N.B. If the average of your written examinations is 65% or above, you can be exempted from the end-of-the-year written exam. If, however, your mean is below 65%, you will have to take the end-of-the-year examination. 3. INDIVIDUAL WORK: In addition to the written and oral exams, you will have to do a certain amount of individual work. As evidence of your learning, you will be expected to hand in two pieces of work per school year. These can include any type of language work: e.g. practising reading/writing/speaking/listening or doing exercises in grammar or vocabulary, or practising more skills at a time. Twice a year, you will give a 10-minute presentation of your work in an interactive way, which will enable your colleagues to take an active part. After your presentation, you will have to answer the following questions in writing and hand in the reflections as well as evidence of your work: 1. What was my goal? Have I achieved it? 2. A brief description of the activities that helped me achieve (or partly achieve) my goal. 3. What have I learnt in the process? 4. How satisfied am I with the outcome of my work? 5. Could I have achieved my goal in another way? Your work will be assessed by yourself and your teacher. Here are the proposed criteria: 1. interaction with the audience during the presentation 2 . language accuracy at the oral and written presentation 3 . pronunciation and intonation 4. clarity of presentation 1. interaction with the audience during the presentation 5 can interact with a degree of fluency and spontaneity, involving the audience as much as possible 4 can interact well in prepared situations, involving the audience quite a lot 3 can interact in prepared situations, involving the audience occasionally 2 can interact in a simple way, involving the audience infrequently 2. language accuracy at the oral and written presentation 5 can speak and write freely with a high degree of accuracy 4 can speak and write freely with a satisfactory degree of accuracy 3 can use basic English with a satisfactory degree of accuracy 2 can use limited English with a satisfactory degree of accuracy 3. pronunciation and intonation 5 can pronounce and use intonation well 4 can pronounce and use intonation well in prepared situations 3 can pronounce and use intonation well in basic exchanges of information 2 can pronounce and use intonation reasonably well in basic exchanges of information 4. clarity of presentation 5 can present clearly in a well-structured way, many types of learners are satisfied; materials/aids are clear and of good quality 4 can present well, different types of learners are satisfied; materials/aids are fairly clear and of reasonable quality 3 can present reasonably well, some types of learners are satisfied; materials/aids are not very clear 2 can present reasonably well, mostly one type of learner is satisfied; materials/aids are of poor quality SOME PROPOSALS OF CONTENT AND FORMAT OF INDIVIDUAL WORK Proposals refer to one piece of individual work. You can choose from the following: READING: Five articles or a short story or a novel (the last one can be counted as two pieces of individual work, but you will have to hold two presentations: first you will report on your impressions, and then give a final presentation when you finish reading) or two poems – in each case, a two-page reflection on what you have read and what impact that has had on you. WRITING: Essays or letters, or any kind of writing you would like to practise – between 180-200 words. SPEAKING: A ten-minute recording and an analysis of your performance. Include your observations on word choice, grammatical structures and pronunciation – between 180-200 words. LISTENING and VIEWING: A longer programme or a few short ones – a one-page report on what you listened to and one page of your reflection on the impact that has made on you. LANGUAGE COMPETENCE – GRAMMAR AND VOCABULARY: We suggest that you spend approximately 7 -8 hours on language tasks and present the exercises you have done, indicating, in two different colours, your original solutions and your corrections after consulting the key. COMBINATION: You may decide to practise different skills. In this case you will have to consider the amount of time spent on various activities. We believe 7 – 8 hours will do. Include reasons for your choice and your reflection on the work you have done. YOUR FINAL GRADE Your final grade will be the average of your grades in the written, oral exam and individual work, e.g. if your grades are 9 (WE), 8 (OE) and 9 (IW), your final grade will be 9. 3.2 Students’ response to individual work After a year’s work, 22 students – a group of 12 fourth-year and undergraduate students, and 10 second-year students filled out the questionnaire below. 1. Is there anything you would like to change about individual work? If yes, what? 15 students (68.2%) did not wish to change anything. Two students (9%) wished to have only one presentation, one of them with no self-assessment; one student (4.5%) wished to have suggestions of topics, two students (9%) made an organisational proposal, one student (4.5%) wished to do something outside the young learners’ context (which was the students’ own preference, but this student mistakenly thought it was obligatory) and one student (4.5%) wished reflections to be made only orally. 2. Do you think reflections are important or not really necessary? 19 students (86.49%) thought they were important, one (4.5%) did not, and two (9%) were undecided. What is interesting is that most of the students justified their answer, although they were not asked to do so. 3. What, according to you, is the greatest benefit of individual work? Freedom of choice 4x (18.2%), experience and less afraid of public performance 1x (4.5%), getting new ideas about work and where to find literature 1x (4.5%), exchange of ideas for teaching 4x (18.2%), practice at speaking, pronunciation and choosing the right topic 1x (4.5%), creativity 1x (4.5%), practice, motivation and speaking English 1x (4.5%), practice and interesting – useful topics 3x (13.6%), practice at writing, speaking and presentation 1x (4.5%), speaking practice 3x (13.6%), learning more 1x (4.5%), choice of topic and motivation 1x (4.5%). It seems students appreciated freedom of choice most of all, as well as the opportunity to practise their speaking skills and exchange ideas that they might use later in their teaching careers. 4. How do you feel about self-assessment? Positive comments: 17 (77.3% -mainly pointing out being made aware of improvement or mistakes) Negative comments: 5 (22.7% -generally pointing out how difficult it is) 5. Do you have problems deciding what grade to give yourself in each category? YES: 9 (40.9%) NO: 10 (45.5%) SOMETIMES: 3x (13.6%) 6. Please underline the self-assessment category you find the most difficult to assess: Interaction, Language accuracy, Pronunciation and intonation, Clarity of presentation (some students underlined two categories) Interaction (1x), Language accuracy (12x), Pronunciation and intonation (11x), Clarity of presentation (2x) 7. Please underline the self-assessment category(ies) you find easy to assess: Interaction, Language accuracy, Pronunciation and intonation, Clarity of presentation (some students underlined two categories) Interaction (18x), Language accuracy (0x), Pronunciation and intonation (1x), Clarity of presentation (13x) Students found language accuracy as well as pronunciation and intonation the most difficult categories to assess, whereas interaction and clarity of presentation seemed easier to assess, although their self-assessment did not indicate those categories as more or less problematic. The content of individual work was chosen by the students, so in this respect they were completely autonomous. The assessment of their individual work, however, was a reflective process leading to the agreement between the teacher and the student. Students tended to be too modest at the beginning, but after their first self-assessment and the teacher’s co-assessment they became quite realistic about their performance. Giving themselves a higher grade happened very rarely. Some students took more time to realise that it was mainly them who should be in control of their learning progress; however, this experience, although having come with some delay, was also precious for their own personal growth. In the course of time, students became more reflective and responsible, i.e. started to express specific wishes regarding the content of the lessons. The teacher’s heavy burden of assessing students’ work on her own was also made much lighter. 4. Conclusion The portfolio approach, although rather time-consuming, is rewarding for both teachers and students as they become more aware of different goals to be reached and also of the many ways in which to do so. Both become more engaged in the learning-teaching process, which they experience as a personal challenge and not something imposed on them. Students observe their own progress, which motivates them to do further work, and their learning goals, even during ‘regular’ class work, become more clearly defined. In the process, the teacher and students learn a lot from and about each other (also about their own failures), and become partners searching for the best ways for each student to learn in an efficient and personally adjusted way. Bearing all this in mind, autonomy, as a result of the portfolio approach, should not only be a nice word written down in the documents of our educational policy, but should play a significant role in the exams as well. Bibliography Anderson, J, O., and D. G. Bachor. 1998. A Canadian Perspective on Portfolio Use in Student Assessment. Assessment in Education: Principles, Policy & Practice 5, no. 3: 353–79. Broadfoot, P. 1998. Records of Achievement and The Learning Society: a tale of two discourses. Assessment in Education: Principles, Policy & Practice 5, no. 3: 447–77. Council for Cultural Co-operation, Education Committee. 2000. (Working material). European Language Portfolio, Recommendations. Principles and Guidelines. Strasbourg: Council of Europe. Čok, L. 1999. Portfolio of Languages in Slovenia. Content, procedures and phases of trial implementation in Slovenia 1998 – 2001. In Izobraževanje učiteljev za prenovljeno šolo, eds. J. Hytönen, C. Razdevšek Pučko, and G. Smyth, 97–101. Ljubljana: Pedagoška fakulteta. Gipps, C.V. 1994. Beyond Testing. Towards a theory of educational assessment. London, Washington: The Falmer Press. Fidler, S. 2000. Jezikovni portfolio pri pouku angleščine. Unpublished MA Dissertation. Ljubljana: Filozofska fakulteta. Harlen, W., and R. D. Crick. 2003. Testing and Motivation for Learning. Assessment in Education: Principles, Policy & Practice 10, no. 2: 169–207. Little, D., and R. Perclová. 2001. European Language Portfolio. Guide for Teachers and Teacher Trainers. Modern Languages Division. Strasbourg: Council of Europe. McDonald, B., and D. Boud. 2003. The Impact of Self-assessment on Achievement: the effects of self-assessment training on performance in external examinations. Assessment in Education: Principles, Policy & Practice 10, no. 2: 209–20. Oskarsson, M. 1992. Self-assessment of foreign language skills: a survey of research and development work. Modern languages. Strasbourg: Council of Europe. Violeta Jurković Faculty of Maritime Studies and transport Portorož Analysis of Language Learning Strategies Used by Students of Traffic Technology Summary Language learning strategies play a vital role in the language acquisition process, and this includes the realm of ESP at the tertiary level of education. This contribution first defines the concept of language learning strategies and gives a historical background to language learning strategy research. The central section focuses on a comparative analysis of language learning strategies used by first year students of traffic technology at the Faculty of Maritime Studies and Transport in Portorož, University of Ljubljana. The analysis, based on Rebecca Oxford’s “Strategy Inventory for Language Learning”, aims to assess the students’ existing awareness of the process of language acquisition and the learning strategies that they use. Objectives of language teachers should include helping students to raise their awareness of language learning strategies and providing them with contexts for their development. Therefore, the concluding section contains sample ESP teaching materials and student instructions focusing on cognitive language learning strategies. Key words: ESP, learning strategies, tertiary education Analiza strategij učenja pri študentih tehnologije prometa Povzetek Strategije učenja igrajo ključno vlogo tudi na področju jezika stroke na visokošolski stopnji izobraževanja. V uvodnem delu prispevek definira koncept strategij učenja pri poučevanju tujih jezikov in nadaljuje z zgodovinskim pregledom raziskav na področju strategij učenja pri tujih jezikih. V osrednjem delu prispevka je predstavljena primerjalna analiza strategij učenja, kot jih uporabljajo študentje prvega letnika tehnologije prometa na Fakulteti za pomorstvo in promet v Portorožu. Cilj analize, ki temelji na orodju za analizo strategij učenja avtorice Rebecce Oxford, je ugotoviti, v kolikšni meri se študentje zavedajo procesa osvajanja tujega jezika in katere strategije učenja uporabljajo. Med cilje poučevanja tujih jezikov (stroke) bi morali vključiti metode, s katerimi bomo dvignili raven zavedanja o strategijah učenja in študentom ponudili možnosti za njihov razvoj. Zato zaključni del prispevka vsebuje primer učnega gradiva in navodil za študente, s katerimi lahko spodbudimo uporabo spoznavnih strategij učenja. Ključne besede: jezik stroke, strategije učenja, visokošolsko izobraževanje Analysis of Language Learning Strategies Used by Students of Traffic Technology 1. Introduction The situation: English class, first year of the three-year programme for students of traffic technology, end of the first semester a couple of years ago. The students were asked to read a short and simple text describing the process passengers have to go through at an airport before boarding the plane. Teacher: “Can you tell me the main idea of this text?” Student: “Profesorica, oprostite, jaz vas čisto nič ne razumem.”/(I’m sorry, teacher, but I don’t understand you.) Teacher: “What is this text about?” Student: “Oprostite, ne razumem.”/(I’m sorry, I don’t understand.) This, of course, is an extreme case of language inproficiency that a student ‘reached’ after eight years of learning English at the elementary and secondary levels of education but it is also far from an isolated one. The question as to how this is possible would inevitably lead toward a very complex answer involving the individual characteristics of the student, the systemic nature of language teaching, the awareness and knowledge of language teachers in relation to language teaching, and other related factors. One element that certainly plays a crucial role in language acquisition is learning strategies. The failure to reach the expected level of language proficiency after completing pre-tertiary studies can in part be a result of the lack of awareness and knowledge of learning strategies on the part of language teachers. As a consequence, we might assume that many students are not aware of the strategies that they could use to enhance the language acquisition process. Hence, the main reason for strategy research is to develop the awareness of language learning strategies in order to become able to help our students to recognize the learning strategies as tools that can make learning more effective, faster, and more enjoyable. Tudor (1996, 197), for example, describes the concept of learner empowerment and adds that we should aim at “an approach to course design which is structured not only around the attainment of certain objective learning outcomes but also around the initiation and exploration of a range of learning processes.” The introduction to this paper aims to define learning strategies and individual student characteristics that they are intertwined with. Furthermore, it emphasizes the importance of strategy research, its benefits, and goals of strategy training. Language teaching methodology and research is permeated with inter-related and sometimes overlapping terms such as learning strategies, learning style, cognitive style, learning techniques, learning tactics, and learning behaviours, to mention just a few. In order to isolate learning strategies from these terms, the concept first has to be clearly defined. Oxford (1990, 8) defines learning strategies as “specific actions taken by the learner to make learning easier, faster, more enjoyable, more self-directed, more effective, and more transferable to new situations.” She also adds (1990, 9) that learning strategies are problem-oriented, often conscious, teachable, and flexible. O’Malley and Chamot (1990, 7) describe learning strategies as “highly useful deliberate approaches to learning a second language.” The concept of learning strategies is not linked exclusively to foreign or second language learning. Kardash and Amlund (1991, in Holman 2001, 1), for example, define learning strategies as “the practices that people use to aid the acquisition and development of knowledge in any context.” Furthermore, Ehrman et al. (2003, 3) point out that “virtually all definitions of strategies imply conscious movement toward a language goal.” To summarize, learning strategies in this paper will be considered as conscious activities undertaken by the students to achieve the language goal required by the language task. Since language learning is an active and dynamic process involving the entire person, the use and effectiveness of learning strategies depend on a variety of factors. Research has shown that some strategies will only be effective for some students and other strategies will be more valuable for others. The most significant factors that have been identified as having an influence on the use and effectiveness of learning strategies in language acquisition are: learning style (Oxford (2003, 3–8): learning style includes sensory preferences, personality type, desired degree of generality, and biological differences), cognitive style (Messick (1984) in Sadler-Smith (2001, 4): “consistent individual differences in preferred ways of organizing and processing information”), affective factors (Ehrman et al. (2003, 5–8): affective factors include motivation, self-efficacy, tolerance of ambiguity, anxiety, defence mechanisms, internal attitudes, self-esteem, alertness required to act, self-regulation, self-management, beliefs, emotional intelligence, and self-monitoring). Further factors are the course/proficiency level, gender, age, academic field of study or career orientation, culture, and mode of study. After the key terms and issues have been highlighted, we can proceed to further sections of this paper that will highlight the beginnings of the research of language learning strategies and the results of recent studies. 2. Research of language learning strategies – historical background Influenced by the developments in cognitive psychology, the beginnings of the research into language learning strategies and the introduction of the concept itself can be traced to the 1970s when researchers realized that the difference between effective and ineffective learners in terms of the learning strategies they employ should be investigated, a decision that provided valuable input into the development of learner and process-centred language teaching. It was thought that after identifying the learning strategies used by effective learners these strategies could be taught to ineffective learners. In the 1980s, research focused on individual differences that affect the use of learning strategies, such as personality, age, maturity, experience with language learning, learners’ views and their learning needs (Stern 1992, 259). The year 1990 represented a milestone in the research of language learning strategies when, basedonpreviousresearchfindingsanddevelopmentsincognitivepsychology,twofundamental works containing classifications of language learning strategies and research frameworks on which the majority of subsequent studies is based were published: Rebecca Oxford’s Language Learning Strategies: What Every Teacher Should Know and Michael O’Malley’s and Anna Uhl Chamot’s Learning Strategies in Second Language Acquisition. Oxford (1990) proposed the classification of learning strategies into two groups: direct and indirect strategies. The direct strategies (Oxford 1990, 37) “directly involve the target language”. The direct strategy group contains memory strategies “helping students store and retrieve new information”, cognitive strategies that “enable learners to understand and produce new language by many different means”, such as practicing, receiving and sending messages, and analysing and reasoning, and finally compensation strategies that “allow learners to use the language despite their often large gaps in knowledge.” The indirect strategies (ibid., 135) can be further subdivided into metacognitive strategies that “allow learners to control their own cognition – that is, to coordinate the learning process by using functions such as centering, arranging, planning, and evaluating”, affective strategies that “help to regulate emotions, motivations, and attitudes”, and social strategies that “help students learn through interaction with others”. She denotes these strategies as indirect because they “support and manage language learning without (in many instances) directly involving the target language.” Appendices B (283–291) and C (293–300) include the SILL (Strategy Inventory for Language Learning) for the research of language learning strategies of English speakers learning a new language and of speakers of other languages using English, which (in particular the latter) have been used by numerous researchers worldwide in assessing the learning strategies of their students. O’Malley and Chamot (1990) propose a slightly different classification and framework for the research of learning strategies. Upon careful observation, however, significant similarities between these two independently created frameworks can be uncovered. O’Malley and Chamot classify strategies into three categories: cognitive strategies (a cognitive strategy [1990, 229] “involves mental manipulation or transformation of materials or tasks and is intended to enhance comprehension, acquisition, or retention”), metacognitive strategies (a metacognitive strategy [230–31] “involves thinking about or knowledge of the learning process, planning for learning, monitoring learning while it is taking place, or self-evaluation of learning after the task has been completed” and social-affective strategies (a social/affective strategy [232] “may consist of using social interactions to assist in the comprehension, learning, or retention of information. It may also consist of using mental control over personal affect that interferes with learning.”). The book also includes instructional models for strategic teaching, which further developed into the CALLA (Cognitive Academic Language Learning Approach), published in 1994 in a separate book, CALLA Handbook: Implementing the Cognitive Academic Language Learning Approach. Although the majority of studies undertaken in the last two decades have relied on the two frameworks and classifications presented above, other learning strategy classifications have been proposed. Stern (1992, 262–6), for instance, classifies the strategies into management and planning strategies that “express the learner’s intention to direct his own learning”, cognitive strategies that are “the techniques learners make use of in the deliberate and formal study and practice of the second language”, communicative-experiential strategies which require that “the learner must seek opportunities for language use in real-life situations”, interpersonal strategies that help learners solve problems related to infantilization, satellization, and status, and affective strategies that help learners cope with frustrating elements of language learning. As noted in the introduction to this paper, the use and effectiveness of learning strategies as cognitive processes depend on a variety of individual characteristics of learners. Based on the two fundamental research frameworks presented above, studies in the last two decades have concentrated on the identification of those individual characteristics that exert an influence on or are influenced by the use of language learning strategies, e.g., language proficiency or course level, age, gender, level of previous education, experiences with language learning, cognitive style, learning style, aptitude, sensory preferences, personality type, culture, affective factors, motivation, etc. Summaries of the findings of some of these studies are presented below. The first variable (individual learner characteristic that influences or is influenced by strategy use) that the use of language learning strategies can be matched against is language proficiency. Watanabe (1990, in Oxford and Burry Stock 1995, 8) discovered that higher-level students use SILL strategies more often than lower level students. Park (1994, in Oxford and Burry Stock 1995, 9), too, found a linear relationship between language proficiency and strategy use. Phillips, (1990, 1991, in Oxford and Burry Stock 1995, 9), however, saw that “middle scorers on the TOEFL, who thus had moderate proficiency in English, showed significantly higher overall strategy use than did the high-proficiency or the low-proficiency group”, revealing a curvilinear pattern. In addition, some strategies are used far more often by high scorers (such as paraphrasing) while low scorers displayed a significantly more frequent use of strategies that do not involve deep processing of language, such as the use of flashcards for vocabulary learning. Furthermore, Ehrman (2003, 3) reports on studies made by Abraham and Vann (1987) and O’Malley and Chamot (1996) in which it was discovered that there was not only a quantitative but also qualitative difference in strategy use because “less able learners often use strategies in a random, unconnected and uncontrolled manner” while more proficient users use a well-orchestrated set of strategies, called a strategy chain (Oxford 2001, in Ehrman 2003, 3). Research also shows (Oxford and Ehrman 1995, 362) that in fact “successful learners use an array of strategies, matching those strategies to their own learning style and personality and to the demands of the task […]; they develop combinations of strategies that work for them.” However, some researchers question the cause-effect relationship between strategy use and language proficiency and claim that “one can […] argue that learner strategies do not determine proficiency, but are permitted by it.” (Skehan 1989, in Halbach 2000, 6). Research studies not only touched upon the general use of strategies but tried to identify the correlation between low/high language proficiency and specific strategy use. Griffiths (2003, 3) found that higher-level students use metacognitive strategies more often, which probably means that they are able to have greater metacognitive control over their learning. In addition, she identified fifteen strategies that more advanced students used more frequently than their less proficient peers (ibid., 6), in particular cognitive and social strategies. Griffiths (ibid., 9), for instance, also determined that lower level students more frequently use strategies related to vocabulary and affect (which higher proficiency students do not need any more) and that strategies used by higher level students are more sophisticated (involving deep processing) than those applied by lower level students. In opposition to previous findings, Oxford and Ehrman (1995, 372) learned that the more frequent use of cognitive strategies was the only SILL category that showed a significantly positive correlation with language proficiency reached at the end of the training program. Their study also revealed that the students who display a more frequent use of cognitive strategies are better educated, able to speak more languages, are more persistent in their learning, more confident, positive, motivated and comfortable with language learning. Perhaps the most important variable affecting or being affected by the use of learning strategies is motivation. From a research sample of 1,200 university students, Oxford and Nykos (1989, in Oxford and Ehrman 1995, 563) found that motivation, which also encompasses persistence as one of its main components, was the most significant factor influencing strategy use, both inside and outside the classroom. Moreover, studies have confirmed that strategy instruction resulted in higher motivation (Nunan 1997, in Oxford 2003, 11). However, as has already been noted regarding the cause-effect relationship between strategy use and language proficiency, the direction of the cause-effect relationship between the frequency and quality of strategy use and motivation has yet to be ascertained. A study conducted by Hayes and Allinson (1996) reported by Sadler-Smith (2001, 5) observed that an individual’s cognitive style, too, bears vital importance for strategy use and that “while matching learning strategy to the style of the individual may improve learning performance in a given context, it will do nothing to help prepare the learner for subsequent learning tasks where the activity does not match the individuals’ preferred style.” Furthermore, the learning style, as defined in the introduction, is highly significant in the use of learning strategies. Ehrman and Oxford (1988, 1989, in Oxford 2004, 1) discovered that learning style significantly influences the choice of strategies employed by the learner and that both, learning strategy and learning style, affect learning outcomes. In fact, some researchers (Holman 2001, 4) doubt whether there is a distinction between learning style and learning strategies or whether the learning strategies are simply contextualized occurrences of learning styles. It should also be noted that the learning setting affects the use of learning strategies. Those who are learning a language as second language learners typically use more learning strategies than their peers who learn the language as a foreign language, where that language is not used for everyday communication (Oxford and Ehrman 1995, 372). Last but not least, a thorough study of language learning strategies was presented by Oxford and Ehrman (1995), already cited above, in which they correlated strategy use with a number of variables: language proficiency, teacher perception, gender, aptitude, learning style, personality type, ego boundaries, motivation, and anxiety. They found significant correlations between these variables and strategy use. They reported that the frequency of language learning strategies directly relates to language performance, measured by means of proficiency, achievement, or self-rating tests. However, their research also showed that the use of cognitive strategies was the only category that had a significantly positive correlation with language proficiency at the end of the training program. In addition, they reported that no correlation had been found between progress and effort but that a significant correlation had been found between progress and aptitude. They also reported findings in relation to affective factors: some degree of anxiety can have a facilitative effect on language performance and strategy use; students who can tolerate ambiguity more easily than their peers are likely to persist in language learning and are more prone to taking risks, which is essential for making progress. They assert (1995, 379) that “we can foster use of language learning strategies by helping students persist in their learning, maintain and enhance their own motivation, and develop skills in systematic planning.” The study included the research of the influence of formal education of the use of learning strategies. It was found (1995, 374) that respondents who had more previous education also displayed a more frequent use of cognitive and metacognitive strategies. Finally, they emphasized the importance of cognitive strategies involving deeper processing and semantic-level connections that enable the anchoring of new knowledge into existing schemata. As a result, the two authors assert that strategy training should focus on cognitive strategies, except with highly specific aspects of language learning, such as the learning of vocabulary (1995, 381). . Learning strategy assessment The sections on the research in strategy use have highlighted the importance of the use of learning strategies and the awareness of other individual differences for effective language learning. As the language proficiency of our students has to be assessed before the beginning of a language program to enable us to define the suitable target level of proficiency, revealed by the target situation analysis, which is especially valuable for ESP settings, the assessment of learning strategies must be conducted before the application of strategy training. Its results will allow the teacher to determine the strengths and weaknesses of the students and consequently upon which strategies additional attention should be laid. The assessment of learning strategies of first year students (2001/2002) at the Faculty of Maritime Studies and Transport in Portorož was carried out as a part of my master’s thesis that encompassed a wider spectrum determined by the concept of ‘needs analysis’. The SILL,Version for Speakers of Other Languages Learning English (Oxford 1990, 293– 300), has been selected as the instrument for the assessment of student strategies because it provides a general assessment of strategies of individual students, it is easy and quick to administer, and above all, being a widely employed instrument, it is easy to establish comparisons between studies. In addition, it has been tested for its utility, validity, and reliability by its author and numerous other researchers. The SILL is a questionnaire consisting of 50 statements related to 50 strategies divided into six strategy groups. The mean value reveals the frequency of use of individual strategies and groups of strategies. Values from 3.5 – 5 and considered as high, values from 2.5 – 3.4 as medium, and those from 1.0 – 2.4 as low. This paper presents the results of the learning strategy assessment of first year students of traffic technology at our faculty, matched against comparable results obtained by other researchers. The assessment results provided by three separate studies are presented in the table below: (1) Jurković, Violeta. 2002. Population: first year students of the three-year program of traffic technology studying English in an EFL setting in Slovenia, n= 130. (2) Jurković, Violeta. 2002. Population: first year students of the four-year program of traffic technology studying English in an EFL setting in Slovenia, n= 77. (3) Griffiths, Carol. 2003. Population: learners at the elementary level studying English in an ESL setting in New Zealand, aged 14-64, n=44. (4) Griffiths, Carol. 2003. Population: learners at the advanced level studying English in an ESL setting in New Zealand, aged 14-64, n=34. (5) Oxford, Rebecca L. and Ehrman, Madeline E. 1995. Population: highly educated adult learners studying languages other than English in an FL setting in the USA, n=520. Additional information about students in groups (1) and (2) is that: – according to the rating scales presented in the Common European Framework of Reference, the language proficiency level of students in group (1) ranges between A1 and B2, with the majority at the A2 level. The mean value for their motivation for studying English on a scale from 1 (low) to 5 (high) is 3. In terms of language proficiency but not learning setting, the group is comparable to group (3); – according to the rating scales presented in the Common European Framework of Reference, the language proficiency level of students in group (2) ranges between A2 and B2, with the majority at B1/B2 levels. The mean value for their motivation for studying English on a scale from 1 (low) to 5 (high) is 3.2. In terms of language proficiency and learning setting, the group is comparable to group (5); in terms of language proficiency but not in terms of learning setting, the group is comparable to group (4). A comparison between groups (1) and (2) reveals that the mean value for all groups of strategies is higher in group (2), whose proficiency level is also higher. Similar conclusions can be reached after a comparison between groups (3) and (4), with the exception of memory strategies, whose mean value is lower in the more proficient group. Comparing groups (1) and (3), whose proficiency level is similar, we can see that all mean values for strategy use are higher in group (3), which can probably be attributed to the fact that these learners learn English in an ESL setting where the language is used as a means of everyday communication, providing numerous opportunities for practice outside the classroom. Groups (2), (4) and (5) share similar proficiency levels but students in group (4) also have the advantages supplied by the ESL setting, which probably contributed to the higher mean values for all strategy categories. Interestingly, the overall mean values for groups (2) and (5) are equal. Other partial mean values are also comparable, with the exception of mean values for metacognitive and social strategies, which are significantly lower and higher, respectively, for group (5). We can conclude that the results confirm the relationship between the frequency of strategy use and language proficiency on one hand, and that between strategy use and setting on the other. For detailed comparisons and reasons resulting in the presented differences, no sufficient data about other individual differences among students in the five groups are available. 4. Sample reading activity and cognitive strategies Initial assumptions that have to be made before strategy training is implemented are that: – learning strategies are trainable and – learning strategies enhance learning effectiveness. In addition, since research findings in relation to strategy use and its effect on the rate of language development have been controversial, some researchers have questioned the attempts made to train learning strategies and whether the time can be more effectively spent if we concentrate on language only (Rees-Miller 1993, in Griffiths 2003, 7). Therefore, the main concern of language teachers should rest upon language teaching while strategy training should be seen as a supplement to language activities. Research has revealed the importance of cognitive strategies, which involve deeper processing and semantic-level connections that enable the anchoring of new knowledge into existing schemata. In addition, the comparison between highly proficient language groups (2), (4) and (5) revealed a lower use of language learning strategies among university level students of traffic technology. Therefore, strategy training in this group of students should focus on cognitive strategies. For the reasons presented in this section, the next section concentrates on a sample reading activity and a presentation of cognitive skills that could be integrated into the reading task in the form of reading activities, related to what at first sight may seem a fairly short and simple text for tertiary level students. HISTORICAL BIG SHOTS AND FLIGHT I write on the eve of the 100th anniversary of the Wright Brothers’ successful sustained, powered, and controlled flight, the first ever in the world. Or was it? The Germans are trying to prove that one of their own actually accomplished the feat in 1901. I hope somebody discovers that it was actually a Mongolian who did it first. The tendency to elevate the slabs of great names for us to stumble over seems to do little more than mislead us, somehow appealing to our love for celebrities, which is probably nothing but a degradation of our desire to emulate the gods. Emulating birds is certainly more humble, so I have nothing against the Wright Brothers in particular. They certainly did do something interesting. But the attention focused exclusively on them tends to obscure not only the history and course of aviation, but also other people in history who might deserve mention. One of these is Edvard Rusjan, a Slovene, who made the first successful flight of anyone of any nationality that might one day become Yugoslavian. That’s confusing because he did it in 1908, long before the first Yugoslavia existed. Placing Rusjan’s innovations in context in terms of importance to aviation history would be difficult, but it is enough to say that his work was of some importance, and yet very few people in the world have heard of him. Rusjan designed a glider after which future aircraft were modeled, flew a biplane about 500 meters, reaching an altitude of 12 meters, and later equipped a monoplane with a rotary engine. Imagine what Mazda would make of that. Rusjan died in a plane crash in Belgrade in 1911 when he was only 24 years old. The fifteen cognitive strategies identified by Oxford (1990, 43–7) and classified into four major groups are: a) Practicing:(1) repeating – doing something several times, (2) formally practicing with sounds and writing systems – practicing pronunciation or rewriting sentences, (3) recognizing and using formulas and patterns – being aware of routine formulas and unanalysed patterns, (4) recombining – combining known elements in new ways, and (5) practicing naturalistically – reading an article in the TL. b) Receiving and sending messages:(6) getting the idea quickly – skimming to determine the main idea, and (7) using resources for receiving and sending messages. c) Analysing and reasoning:(8) reasoning deductively – using general rules to apply them to new situations, (9) analysing expressions – understanding expressions by breaking them down into parts, (10) analysing contrastively – comparing elements to elements in the mother tongue, (11) translating – converting expressions into mother language equivalents, and (12) transferring – directly applying previous knowledge. d) Creating structure for input and output:(13) taking notes – writing down the main idea or main points, (14) summarizing – making a summary of the passage, and (15) highlighting – using emphasis techniques. Instructions to students that could be used in relation to the text ‘Historical Big Shots and Flight’ and to the fifteen cognitive strategies identified by Oxford might be as follows: Instructions Strategy • Which milestones in aviation history can you think of? Write 12, 13 them down. • Read the passage. What is the main idea it expresses ? Does it 6 relate to what you have mentioned before? • Reread the text and identify what other points the author is 1 trying to make. Do you agree with him? • Inthetextfindandhighlightallwords,expressionsorcollocations 3, 9, 11 related to aviation. Can you guess what they mean? • Find an article in English that discusses aviation history. Does 5, 7, 14 it mention Edvard Rusjan? Write a summary of 100-150 words of the article you have found. The brief sample reading activity presented above shows that strategy training can fairly easily be embedded into the use of the language teaching materials that we ordinarily use with our students and that in a way, implicit strategy training is what we are all already doing. Nevertheless, in order to be able to expose our students to explicit (discussed, tried and evaluated) strategy training, the teachers first have to be aware of the options that they can provide their students in order to maximize their learning potentials, always bearing in mind that only a broad variety of options can meet all the diverse needs of our students. . Conclusion This paper represents an attempt to emphasize the importance of the awareness of learning strategies on the part of the language teachers first and consequently by their students. Too many students rely on too few learning options, which might be one of the reasons for their failure to achieve the expected level of proficiency after (eight) years of learning English. Therefore, one of the goals of strategy training is raising the awareness of the different strategies that the students might find helpful in enhancing their learning. Since strategies have been proved to enable more autonomous and (therefore) lifelong learning, another goal of strategy training includes learner empowerment, which entails that learners should become responsible, self-aware, and equipped with knowledge as to how to learn a language even after the completion of their formal education. Hence, the approach to learning should be learner-centred, involving also the exploration of the language learning process that would develop student awareness of the learning process itself. Effective strategy training is expected to increase the students’ intrinsic motivation, which can only be achieved if teachers strive to meet their students’ learning desires and needs for language competence, self-esteem, and enjoyment. Results of many studies still provide controversial outcomes in terms of strategy training and use, which is why studies have to be repeated under different conditions and in relation to a number of variables so that more comparable information becomes available. In conclusion, considering the number and effect of individual differences, teachers should know their learners by assessing their styles and strategies, and should provide them with a rich array of learning situations that would enhance the development of different learning strategies, bearing in mind that there is no single methodology that suits the needs of all learners at the same time. Bibliography Council of Europe. 2001. Common European framework of reference for languages: learning, teaching, assessment. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Dudley-Evans, T., and M.J. StJohn. 1985. Developments in English for specific purposes: a multi-disciplinary approach. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Ehrman, M.E., B.L. Leaver, and R.L. Oxford. 2003. A brief overview of individual differences in second language learning. System 31, no. 3: 313–30. (accessed April 9, 2004). Griffiths, C. 2003. Patterns of language learning strategy use. System 31, no.3: 367-383. (accessed April 9, 2004). Halbach, A. 2000. Finding out about students’ learning strategies by looking at their diaries: a case study. System 28, no. 1: 85-96. (accessed April 9, 2004). Holman, D., O. Epitropaki, and S. Fernie. 2001. Understand learning strategies in the workplace: a factor analytic investigation. Journal of Occupational and Organizational Psychology 74, no. 5: 675–81. (accessed April 9, 2004). Jurković, V. 2002. Analiza potreb pri pouku angleščine za študijski program Tehnologija prometa na Fakulteti za pomorstvo in promet. MA diss., University of Ljubljana. Jurković, V., and R. Harsch. 2004. Routes to Traffic English. Portorož: Fakulteta za pomorstvo in promet. Lightbown, P.M., and N. Spada. 1996. How languages are learned. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Merrifield, J. 1996. Examining the language learning strategies used by French adult learners. MA diss., http://www.les.Aston.ac.uk/ lsu/lsudocs/diss/jmerrifield.html (accessed November 5, 2001). O’Malley, M.J., and A.U. Chamot. 1990. Learning strategies in second language acquisition. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Oxford, R.L. 1990. Language learning strategies: what every teacher should know. New York: Newbury House/Harper&Row. Oxford, R.L., and J.A. Burry-Stock. 1995. Assessing the use of language learning strategies worldwide with the ESL/EFL version of the strategy inventory for language learning SILL. System 23, no. 1: 1–23. (accessed April 9, 2004). Oxford, R.L., and M.E. Ehrman. 1995. Adults’ language learning strategies in an intensive foreign language program in the United States. System 23, no. 3: 359–86. (accessed April 9, 2004). Oxford, R.L. 2003. Language learning styles and strategies: an overview. GALA 2003. (accessed April 30, 2004). Sadler-Smith, E. 2001. A Reply to Reynold’s Critique of Learning Style. Management Learning 32, no. 3: 291–304. (accessed April 9, 2004). Skehan, P. 1989. Individual differences in second-language learning. London: Edward Arnold. Stern, H.H. 1992. Issues and options in language teaching. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Takeuchi, Osamu. 2003. What can we learn from good language learners? a qualitative study in the japanese foreign language context. System 31, no. 3: 385–92. (accessed April 9, 2004). Tudor, I. 1996. Learner-centredness as language education. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. White, Cynthia. 1995. Autonomy and strategy use in distance foreign language learning: research findings. System 23, no. 2: 207–21. (accessed April 9, 2004). Urška Sešek university of Ljubljana Faculty of arts, Department of english “Teacher English”: Teacher’s Target Language Use as Cornerstone of Successful Language Teaching Summary In most of today’s courses of English as a foreign language, the learners and teacher share the same mother tongue, but English is the language used to carry out all activities as far as the learner level allows. This means that the teacher’s level of target language mastery plays a significant role in the quality of language teaching and the resulting learning. The paper looks at the functions of teacher talk as a source of input and model language use as well as a tool for managing classroom processes. Based on that, an argument is made for ‘teacher English’ as a case of English for specific purposes. Key words: target language use, teacher talk, English for specific purposes, language input, classroom management Učiteljska angleščina: učiteljeva raba ciljnega jezika kot temelj uspešnega jezikovnega poučevanja Povzetek Večidel pouka angleščine kot tujega jezika v današnjem svetu poteka v okoljih, kjer učitelj in učenci delijo isti materni jezik, vendar pa je angleščina tisti jezik, v katerem se izvajajo vse učne aktivnosti, kolikor to le dopušča nivo znanja učencev. To pomeni, da učiteljevo znanje in raba ciljnega jezika vpliva na kakovost jezikovnega poučevanja in učenja. Prispevek podaja pregled funkcij učiteljevega govora kot vira jezikovnega vnosa in vzora jezikovne rabe kot tudi orodja za vodenje učnih procesov. Na tej osnovi je podana trditev, da je ‘učiteljeva angleščina’ primer angleščine za posebne potrebe. Ključne besede: raba ciljnega jezika, učiteljev govor, angleščina za posebne potrebe, jezikovni vnos, vodenje pouka “Teacher English”: Teacher’s Target Language Use as Cornerstone of Successful Language Teaching 1. Introduction In order to teach a certain subject, mastery of that subject is the key requirement. That is common sense and hardly needs to be proven by research (e.g. Hustler and McIntyre 1996). One cannot be, for example, a maths teacher without being competent in mathematics. But, what exactly does being competent in mathematics entail? For people not involved in educational systems this may seem a redundant question. However, from the point of view of describing teacher competences, a general idea is not a sufficient basis for planning, executing and developing teacher training programs, nor for the management of teacher employment and evaluation of practicing teachers’ work, all of which should be aimed at increasing the quality of language learning in the schools. Of course, any attempt to define teacher competences, whether across subject areas or for a specific subject, has to take into consideration that in the actual teaching process, a teacher’s subject knowledge interplays in intricate ways with his/her pedagogical / instructional competences and personality (Tsui 2003). Within this context, however, an analysis of subject area competences brings to the surface subject-specific issues. In the case of foreign languages (in our case, English), we could ask whether subject area competence means being able to describe the system and structures of the language, or understanding the principles of the language as a social tool, or understanding of the language processing in the brain, or the ability to use the language, or all of those, and in what proportions. Obviously, these are very complex questions, so let us focus on just the last of the enumerated aspects of an English teacher’s knowledge of English -practical competence in language use, or language proficiency. What is the minimum threshold of target language proficiency that ensures quality teaching at different levels in different contexts? The higher, the better? Is it enough to equip teacher trainees with a high proficiency in general English, or do they need to develop certain specific language uses, skills and strategies? These questions rest on the assumption that English as the target language, and not the native language the teacher and students often share, is indeed predominantly the language of classroom discourseinmostEFLclassrooms.Franklin(1990)listsanumberofauthorswhoprovidetheoretical arguments for this. In fact, there has been a strong movement in the 20th century to teach foreign languages exclusively through the target language, but this has widely been found too extreme by both theoreticians and teachers. However, as Atkinson points out (1993, 4), “failure to engender enough use of the target language in the classroom is one of the major methodological reasons for poor achievement levels in language learning.” The currently widely professed and practiced communicative approach to foreign language teaching assumes that while the mother tongue has a meaningful role to play, using English as much as possible in the classroom is one of the main factors in developing a learner’s communicative language competence. While theories diverge on the issue of how important it is for learners to have an opportunity to interact (form output) rather than just listen to the target language, there is general agreement in the EFL field that exchange of authentic messages is one of the most important aspects of successful communicative language learning. Clark (cited in Franklin 1990) similarly points out that in order to develop communicative competence, TL rather than the mother tongue has to be used extensively in classroom communication, as it is only that way that students will perceive the language as a real communicative tool rather than just a subject to be studied. 2. Description of the English used by EFL teachers In an attempt to describe the teacher’s use of TL in the classroom, we have to start from the ‘why’ before we can answer the ‘how’. The teacher’s classroom talk in English mainly fulfils two types of functions: it provides language input / a model of target language use, and is a tool for managing classroom processes. As regards teacher talk as input, students are nowadays of course heavily exposed to English through the media, travel and other out-of-school sources as well, but as research done into classroom interaction (e. g. Long 1983) suggests, teacher talk can and should be more structured and fine-tuned to students’ learning needs than random input they get outside the classroom, and therefore out-of-class exposure does not diminish the value of classroom input. As Stephen Krashen pointed out in 1982, the foreign language classroom is not a substitute for the real world, but should bring students to a point where they can better learn from it. There are also functions of teacher talk that are not subject-specific. In any subject, the teacher has to demonstrate mastery of the subject as an aspect of his/her authority (related to his/her professional self-confidence), which has many implications in the teaching/learning process. At the same time, a teacher in any subject uses language as the primary tool of classroom management; to organize daily classroom activities, explain, give feedback, discipline, motivate, encourage, correct etc. It is in carrying out these specific communicative tasks that language teachers have the opportunity to provide error-free, meaningful, structured and fine-tuned input in the target language. What configuration of language competence and what level of proficiency in the target language are required for that? There are as yet few studies available which would detail the teachers’ target language needs from this perspective. A set of requirements such as provided by Kreeft Peyton for FL teachers in the USA (cited in Philips 1991) is much too general: “A high level of language proficiency in all of the modalities of the target language – speaking, listening, reading, and writing, the ability to use the language in real-life contexts, for both social and professional purposes, and the ability to comprehend contemporary media in the foreign language, both oral and written, and interact successfully with native speakers in the United States and abroad.” There have been several calls in the literature to define “the components of language proficiency most crucial for language teachers” (Richards 1998, 7). Atkinson says that “teachers should be encouraged to acquire a sound knowledge of the highly specific target language items related to the minutiae of (communicative) language teaching” (1993, 4). Some authors even make a straightforward claim that English for the teacher is a case of LSP (Language for Specific Purposes) (Richards 1998, Bondi). . English for specific purposes To prove or disprove this idea, we must examine the notion of ESP (or LSP). ESP has always been defined more in terms of an approach to language teaching than language per se. The most widely cited definition of ESP was given in 1988 by Peter Strevens, who proposed four absolute and two variable characteristics of ESP. These were later revised by Dudley-Evans and St. John (1998), so that now the absolute characteristics of an ESP course are considered to be the following: • it is designed to meet specific needs of the learner; • it makes use of the underlying methodology and activities of the discipline it serves; • it is centered on the language (grammar, lexis, register), skills, discourse and genres appropriate to these activities. Since this paper does not look at the methodology of teaching ESP, let us focus only on what ESP means in terms of content (a model of language description) or aims. What is meant in the above definition by 'specific needs' and 'activities of the discipline it serves'? Munby (1978) and Mackay and Mountford (1978) claimed that the word 'specific' refers to the purposes for which learners learn a language, not the nature of the language they learn (specific jargon or registers). Many later authors agree that 'needs' is equal to 'communicative purposes' or 'communicative tasks'. It could be noted, however, that it is always the purpose of a communication act that defines the language used to fulfil it, and it is therefore impossible to disassociate specific purposes from specific language items and processes used to fulfil them. In 1978, John Munby made a formidable attempt to provide a system for defining both in his 'Communicative Syllabus Design' for ESP language programmes. Although his model was not widely used in practice, and attracted much criticism due to its atomistic approach, which reduced to a linear order the extremely complex and inherently organic process of verbal communication, Munby nevertheless provided a scientific basis for a modern definition of ESP. Widdowson in his 1983 'Language Purpose and Language Use' criticized Munby and defined ESP in contrast to EGP (General English). He explained that while EGP develops a general capacity for language use, which the learner could apply in different situations, ESP is a restricted language competence, which enables one to cope only with a clearly defined set of language tasks. While Widdowson disagrees with the labelling of different ESP courses 'English for Waiters,' 'English for Lawyers' etc., he considers it evident that different areas of human activity involve different language tasks, and that to cope with them, we employ different sets of language items and skills. As far as the contrast between LSP and general language goes, DeBeaugrande (1989, cited in Robinson 1991, 6) says that “[...] no LSP is composed of its own resources. Instead, every LSP overlaps heavily with at least one language for general purposes and is free to use any part of the latter without expressing justification. One could not, for example, state the 'rules' which determine which parts of the grammar or lexicon of English may or may not appear in 'scientific English'.” This suggests, as is confirmed by other authors (Gačić 1985, Roelcke 1999), that LSP is different from general language primarily in the distribution / dominance of certain language means. Roelcke (1999) also points out that each type of LSP is not just a subsystem or variety of general language but is also defined against other types of LSP pertaining to other professions / activities. Several other authors have tried to define ESP in terms of pure linguistic description. According to Hoffman (1988), ESP is all the language means used to communicate in a limited field by people who are experts or active in this field. Under language means Hoffman understands prosodic and lexicogrammatical means in functional interplay in all the communicative acts possible within the specific area. It seems that from the definitions of ESP by a number of authors we can extract two main points: 1. ESP is restricted to a group of users involved in the same profession, scientific discipline, educational or leisure activity as distinct from other groups. It is the language used by members of a group to carry out the activities and talk about the concepts, many of which, but not all, are specific to the group. 2. ESP is language that is used to fulfil a specified communicative purpose. In this sense, the English you need to buy a postcard is equally specific as the English a physician needs to understand a scientific article. From this follows that an ESP description is always based on a specification of communicative situation, act, task or purpose. Secondary to this is a specification of language items and processes required by the specified communicative situations. These may be largely absent from or used differently in general language. In the 1980s and later, numerous ESP courses were developed for a wide range of scientific disciplines and professions. It should not be surprising that their content and aims specifications were largely functional/notional or situational/generic. Within this, there are almost always itemized descriptions of lexis specific to an area of knowledge or activity, use of grammatical patterns that 'deviates' from general English, and restrictions or selective focus in terms of language skills, subskills and strategies taught. In a theoretical sense, the inclusion of all of these in defining an area of ESP can be traced back at least as far as the work of John Munby. Today, a comparably comprehensive, but less atomistic and much more flexible model of specifying language use is provided in the Common European Framework of Reference for Languages (Council of Europe 2001). 4. English for EFL teachers as a case of ESP How do all of the discussed characteristics of ESP relate to the English used / needed by teachers of English as a foreign language? Firstly, at the risk of stating the obvious, teachers of English as a foreign language are definitely a group of users of English sharing a profession that is distinct from other professions. All of them use English on a daily basis to carry out activities typical of their profession. It is true that to some extent these (communicative) activities overlap with the activities of teachers of English as a mother tongue, teachers of other subjects, and parents teaching their children to speak, but there are also ways in which TEFL is different from all of these. As opposed to learning a mother tongue in a home environment, the foreign language classroom for example almost entirely lacks contextual clues, while on the other hand students already possess competence in one language. As opposed to school classes of English as a mother tongue, or subjects like mathematics or history, foreign language classrooms are specific because in them the “language is both the vehicle and the object of instruction” (Long 1983, 9). In addition to clearly defined communicative tasks TEFL shares with these other fields of activity, the differences give rise to tasks which are typical only of TEFL and largely absent from or handled differently in other contexts. The communicative tasks typically carried out by teachers of English as a foreign language have been identified by several authors of handbooks for teachers which fairly closely follow the patterns of similar textbooks / handbooks for various other professions (English for nurses, English for customs officers etc.). Spratt (1994), Heaton (1981), Hughes (1981) and Willis (1981) all take the functional/notional approach to describing the EFL teacher's use language in the classroom. Jane Willis for example deals with how the teacher uses English to control and discipline a class, how to introduce a reading passage, how to divide the class in pairs for dialogue practice etc. While of course there are several linguistic realizations of each of these functions, teachers widely tend to use the same phrases and sentences for a certain function. Some of these structures are of course used in general English (situations other than the EFL classroom) as well. For example, 'Listen carefully' is a perfectly everyday phrase, the only thing that is specific about it in terms of teacher English is that it may have a much higher frequency. On the other hand, there are phrases used in an English classroom that would hardly be used anywhere outside of it, for example 'When we've finished this exercise, we're going to practice asking questions' or 'Would you turn around to make a group of four, please?'. Many theorists and teachers of ESP have focused on lexis as the main defining characteristic of ESP as opposed to general English, perhaps because it is the most obvious one. English as used by teachers of EFL is a bit problematic in this sense because by its very nature (which is talking in English to people whose English might be quite limited) it does not contain much lexis which would be incomprehensible to people outside the profession. Perhaps the word 'transparency' is not a household word, but there are few others to suggest a typical ESP such as found in 'English for biologists' or 'English for stockbrokers'. 'Teacher English' might not be a stereotypical ESP; it is indeed specific in terms of communicative functions and frequency of more or less specific phrases / grammatical structures, but does not really have a stock of highly specific lexis. There is, however, further specificity to be found beyond the level of language functions and lexicogrammatical items. There are uses of prosody that are distinct from those in other contexts (for example, use of intonation, pauses and stress for the purposes of presentation and elicitation). Also, in terms of language skills, even in the broad sense, the language teaching profession has needs which are not the same as in other contexts of language use. In particular, for a teacher's daily classroom needs, competence in speaking is obviously by far the most important as compared to the competence in listening, reading and writing. So, while some groups of users of English as a foreign language might need a competence in producing even quite complex types of written discourse in English (such as contracts or scientific papers), the EFL teacher, particularly at the primary level, might have hardly any need for a competence in composing written text in English, as suggested by the creators of the European Language Profile for FL primary teachers (Bondi 2002). Further special demands become apparent if we explore the area of language subskills and strategies. As an example let us look at one of the most important aspects of an EFL teacher's target language competence – the ability to adapt the level of their language output to the abilities and learning needs of the students. This often means a high degree of selection and reduction in grammar and vocabulary to ensure comprehension, while at the same time input needs to be rich and varied. Through this, the teacher can expose learners, at the right moment, to language which is slightly above their level of mastery but provided in a sufficiently appropriate context so that they can infer the meaning and integrate the new item. While adapting output to the communicative partner's abilities in order to ensure mutual comprehension is a general language strategy, it is more crucial, complex and demanding in foreign language instruction settings. . Conclusion Beyond the previously mentioned classroom language handbooks, there is unfortunately very little research-based literature to date that deals with ‘teacher English’, particularly from an ESP point of view. However, considering the fact that the teacher’s use of English is the key aspect of EFL classrooms, EFL teacher training programmes “(both pre-and in-service) should give much more weight to the importance of teacher talk and its link to language acquisition” (Walsh 2003). Richards writes that “presumably one needs to attain a certain threshold level of proficiency in a language to be able to teach effectively in it ...” (1998, 7). This idea seems worryingly vague and tentative from the point of view of designing EFL teacher training programs and ensuring proper standards of teacher performance in schools. This paper proposes that ‘teacher English’, although perhaps in less obvious ways, is just as much of a language for specific purposes as any other that has been labelled as such for decades. As such, it deserves and calls for more ‘ESP treatment’, which primarily means a detailed analysis of the teachers’ communicative language needs. Only this kind of an analysis can be a solid basis for equipping teachers with an efficiently profiled target language mastery to ensure quality teaching for quality learning in a world which demands constantly that more people be constantly more proficient in the English language. Bibliography Atkinson, D. 1993. Teaching in the Target Language: A Problem in the Current Orthodoxy. Language Learning Journal 8: 2–5. Bondi, M. A Language Profile for the FL Primary Teacher.7th April 2004, http://www.ioe.stir.ac.uk/lingua/yr1outcomes/bondi.htm Chambers, G. 1992. Teaching in the Target Language. Language Learning Journal. 5/6 (Setember): 66–7. Council of Europe. 2001. Common European Framework of Reference for Languages: Learning, teaching, assessment. Strasbourg, Cambridge: Council of Europe, CUP. Dudley-Evans, T. and M.J. St John. 1998. Developments in ESP. A multi-disciplinary approach. Cambridge: CUP. Franklin, C.E.M. 1990. Teaching in the Target Language: Problems and Prospects. Language Learning Journal 2 (September): 20–4. Gačić, M. 1985. Istraživanja leksike jezika struke. Zagreb: Centar za jezičku nastavu, Filozofski fakultet. Heaton, J. 1981. Using English in the Classroom. A Functional Approach for Teachers. Singapore: Longman Singapore Publishers. Hoffman, L. 1988. Vom Fachwort zum Fachtext: Beiträge zur Angewandten Linguistik. Tübingen: Gunter Narr Verlag. Hughes, G. S. 1981. A Handbook of Classroom English. Oxford: OUP. Hustler, D., and D. Mcintyre. 1996. Developing Competent Teachers. Approaches to Professional Competence in Teacher Education. London: David Fulton Publishing. Krashen, S. 1985. The input hypothesis: issues and implications. London: Longman. Long, M. 1983. Native/non-native conversation and the negotiation of comprehensible input. Applied Linguistics 4, no. 2: 126–41. Mackay, R., and A. Mountford. 1978. English for specific purposes: a case study approach. London: Longman. Munby, J. 1978. Communicative Syllabus Design. Cambridge: CUP. Philips, J. K. 1991. Upgrading the Target Language Proficiency of Foreign Language Teachers. ERIC Digest. 12th December 2005, www.ericdigests.org/pre-9218/target.htm Richards, J. C. 1998. Beyond training: perspectives on languageteacher education. Cambridge, New York: CUP. Robinson, P. 1991. ESP Today: A Practitioner’s Guide. Hemel Hempstead: Prentice Hall. Roelcke, T. 1999. Fachsprachen. Berlin: Erich Schmidt Verlag. Spratt, M. 1997. English for the teacher – a language development course. Cambridge: CUP. Strevens, P. 1988. ESP After Twenty Years: A Re-Appraisal. In ESP: State of the Art, ed. M.L. Tickoo, 1–13. Anthology Series 21. Singapore: SEAMEO Regional Language Centre. Tsui, A. B. M. 2003 Understanding expertise in teaching: case studies of second language teachers. Cambridge: CUP. Walsh, S. Asking the Right Questions: Teacher Talk and Learner Output. 12th August 2003, http://www.teflteaching.com/resourse/eltexperts/tt/steve_walsh.htm Widdowson, H. 1983. Language Purpose and Use. Oxford: OUP. Willis, J. 1981. Teaching English Through English. Harlow: Longman. Cvetka Sokolov university of Ljubljana Faculty of arts, english Department Essay Titles – Getting the Best out of Students? Summary Essay titles are important (de)motivating factors that have an immense influence on the quality of students’ writing. The article focuses on two questionnaires aimed at students of English, and at lecturers teaching, writing skills at the Department of English at the Faculty of Arts in Ljubljana. Both groups of respondents were asked to consider a list of essay titles taken from various authentic sources, deciding whether, to what extent, and under what circumstances they found them suitable. In addition, the respondents were asked to paraphrase each title in their own words to convey their interpretation and understanding of a particular title. The results and conclusions arrived at by means of the questionnaires are presented and compared to my prior expectations, stemming primarily from my teaching experience. The topic is also discussed in the light of what experts on essay writing say about essay titles. Key words: (un)suitable essay titles, questionnaires, students’ and teachers’ feedback, suggestions for writing teachers Naslovi spisov – iskanje najboljšega pri študentih? Povzetek Naslovi pisnih sestavkov odločilno vplivajo na motivacijo in končni izdelek, ki ga ustvarijo dijaki in študentje. Članek se osredotoča na dva vprašalnika, namenjena študentom prvega letnika angleškega jezika in lektorjem angleškega jezika na Oddelku za anglistiko in amerikanistiko Filozofske fakultete v Ljubljani. Vprašalnik vsebuje izbor avtentičnih naslovov pisnih sestavkov. Študentje in lektorji, ki so izpolnjevali vprašalnik, so presojali in ocenjevali (ne)ustreznost izbranih naslovov. Poleg tega so vsak naslov po svoje preubesedili, s čimer so razkrili in preverili svoje razumevanje določenega naslova. V članku so predstavljeni rezultati in zaključki, ki temeljijo na obdelavi izpolnjenih vprašalnikov. Nekateri prvotne domneve potrjujejo, drugi ovržejo, vsi pa prinašajo snov za razmislek. Članek obravnava temo tudi v luči spoznanj, do katerih so prišli nekateri strokovnjaki za pisni sestavek. Ključne besede: (ne)ustrezni naslovi spisov, vprašalniki, odziv učiteljev in študentov, predlogi za učitelje pisanja Essay Titles – Getting the Best out of Students? 1. Introduction Essay titles are important (de)motivating factors that have an immense influence on the quality of students’ writing. Good essay titles address students directly, making them want to say something of significance about a particular topic, and make them want to do it well. If, on the other hand, students are asked to write about a topic remote from their experience or too demanding for them to discuss persuasively, they are unlikely to create an interesting and fresh paper sparking with original insights. The same is true when the wording of an essay title is so difficult that the title itself becomes an insoluble reading comprehension task. Over the years of teaching I have read hundreds of average, dull, irrelevant essays, but also outstanding ones. Especially those occasions on which a seemingly average student suddenly produced a paper that was remarkably better than anything that they had written before made me think about the impact of essay titles more and more. Sharing my experience with other teachers of writing, I have become familiar with some essay titles which my colleagues have thought of as well as with essay titles that have been assigned as part of the national school-leaving exam, referred to as the Matura Exam in Slovenia, and comparable to A-levels in Great Britain. To verify my observation that students are frequently expected to wrestle with questionable essay titles, I decided to design two questionnaires, using primarily my teaching experience but also leaning on the ideas presented in The St. Martin’s Guide to Teaching Writing by Robert Connors and Cheryl Glenn (1995, 53–76). The questionnaires were aimed at first-year students of English in Ljubljana and Klagenfurt/Celovec, and at lecturers teaching, among other things, writing skills at the Department of English at the Faculty of Arts in Ljubljana. The respondents were asked to consider a list of essay titles which students had either been assigned as part of their English studies, or at the Matura Exam. Regardless of whether they had been intended as home assignments or exam papers, the students generally did not use (and were not expected to use) any sources beyond the knowledge of topics acquired during their English and other classes, their general knowledge and experience. 2. Questionnaires 2.1 Structure Apart fromputtingdownhow theyfelt abouteach titlebygradingit,thestudentswere alsoasked to paraphrase the titles in their own words to convey their interpretation and understanding of a particular title. In addition, they were encouraged to list some of the favourite essay titles which they had been, or would like to be, assigned in future. The teachers, meanwhile, noted some of the titles which had proved to be popular with students, and which had, consequently, led to good results. Finally, both the students and the teachers were asked some other, more general questions concerning the issue, such as how many essay titles students should be given when taking an exam. 1. A list of essay titles • Grade them YES 2 3 4 5 NO • Paraphrase them (Understanding, interpretation) • Use adjectives to assess them. 2. List some of the essay titles you like(ed). 3. Some general questions on essay titles, such as, Do you prefer to be assigned broad topics or specific titles? How many essay titles would they like to be given when taking an exam? 4. The respondent’s comment. Chart 1: Structure of the questionnaire aimed at students Note: The questionnaire aimed at teachers basically followed the same pattern, which was adjusted to their role as teachers of writing. 2.2 The selection of titles The selection of titles is primarily based on my teaching experience, and my personal perception of and response to any particular essay title. In designing the questionnaires, I attempted to include essay titles ranging from (what I felt were) absolutely unacceptable or at least highly questionable to (more) appropriate essay titles. Since students of English as well as those taking the Matura Exam are expected to master more complex modes of discourse, all the titles included require them to write the more abstract discursive essays, demanding higher-level generalisations or deductions and effective use of argumentative skills. Examples of questionable essay titles are those that cover topics remote from students’ experience, and/or topics that are too demanding, as well as titles that lead to too-short answers, and/or are too difficult to understand. Apart from “[encouraging] a brief, affirmative response” (Connors and Glenn 1995, 57), an essay title such as “The older we get the more difficult it is to make friends” (June 2000, Matura Exam), for example, does not enable students to draw on their experience when supporting their point(s). How can we then expect such a title to engage young writers in the task to such an extent that they will find something (exciting) to say? (Cf. Cushing Weigle 2002, 91) A Historical Overview of Theories of Written Composition in Slovenia (1850 – 2000) by Milena Blažić reveals an amazing fact, namely, that Slovene theorists dealing with written composition were aware, as early as 1906, of the need to assign essay titles which were close to students’ personal experience and which they found interesting (Blažić 2002, 20–23)! And yet, as the author of the book points out, essay topics assigned at present, nearly a hundred years later, all too frequently address and reflect the teachers’ rather than students’ experience and perception of the world (Blažić 2002, 97). No wonder it is difficult for young writers to get “the writer’s sense of ownership of [their] writing” that is occurs in “an effective environment for teaching writing”. Only when students can write about topics encouraging them “to explore their own experiences and opinions” can such an environment be created (Bright 1995, 12). An example of an essay title which seems much too complex for a young adult in his or her late teens or early twenties is “All the ills of democracy can be cured by more democracy” (June 2001, Matura Exam). As Connors and Glenn (1995, 57) point out, teachers should “keep in mind that [their] students do not usually have access to as wide a world of opinion, fact, or experience as [teachers] do”. A teacher who expects students to write a good piece of writing fitting the title quoted above must have forgotten to keep this in mind. Essay titles which are at least as disputable are those that are difficult to understand because of the way they are formulated: they either contain a vocabulary item which may be unfamiliar to students or they express a complex idea in a complicated, often highly metaphorical, way. This is less problematic if the teacher discusses the title briefly in class before students start writing, explaining the item and/or the meaning of the title to them. However, under the (external) examination conditions typical of the Matura Exam this is impossible. Of course, if the majority of candidates misunderstand a title, the external examiners will take this into account and also pass essays that, in fact, do not fit the given title. But the need to take such a measure actually proves the inappropriateness of a particular title. The title “The hardest thing in life is to know which bridge to cross and which to burn” (June 1996, Matura Exam) is included in the questionnaires to illustrate the problem discussed above. Apart from being very demanding to discuss, the title is likely to cause trouble because of the two “bridge” metaphors. Students who are familiar with the idiomatic expressions “to cross that bridge when you come to it” and “to burn your boats / bridges” will probably get confused when confronted with the title. I did. Doing my best to forget the two idioms and attempting a “free” interpretation of the title, did not help me much either. The either-or fallacy which I sense in the title made it impossible for me to come up with a suitable paraphrase (interpretation) of the title that would fit both of its parts (the crossing and the burning of bridges) well enough. If a teacher gets as bewildered by an ambiguous essay title, is it wise, let alone fair, to expect students to cope with it? Obviously, students should be given essay topics which they are mature enough to discuss, which they are interested in and which they can relate to (Cf. Koseski 2003, 112; Cushing Weigle 2002, 91), that is, essay titles “[falling] within [their] own range of experience” (Connors and Glenn 1995, 58) Teachers should therefore be on the lookout for topics which student writers are familiar with and, therefore, knowledgeable about. There are areas of human experience which every (young) person is confronted with at least occasionally, such as lying. To check my assumption that the topic would be popular among students because young people are generally sensitive to the moral dilemma of when (if ever) lying is preferable to telling the truth, I included two essay titles on lying in the questionnaires: “We should always tell the truth and nothing but the truth” (September 1996 and March 1997, Matura Exam) and “White lies are a necessary evil” (2000/01, Home Assignment for first-year students of English). I chose two titles on lying – which one and the same essay could fit equally well – to find out whether the way in which a particular aspect of a particular topic is worded influences students’ perception of the title. Apart from being “easy”, are the two titles on lying “significant” and even “exciting” as well? I thought they were. Do students’ answers in the questionnaire confirm this and my other presumptions? 2.3 Presentation and interpretation of some of the answers This part of my research includes answers given by 72 first-year students of English at University of Ljubljana, Faculty of Arts, 22 first-year students of English at University of Klagenfurt/ Celovec, and 5 lecturers of English at University of Ljubljana, Faculty of Arts. Chart 2, printed below, shows that the title “The older we get the more difficult it is to make friends” was much more popular than I had expected. Nearly a half of University-of-Ljubljana and more than a half of University-of-Klagenfurt/Celovec students liked it, whereas all the teachers thought it was, in fact, not suitable for the students’ age. One teacher did say ‘yes’ but gave it the lowest “pass grade” (2), describing it as “too abstract for youngsters”. Chart 3 shows that University-of-Ljubljana students’ assessment of the essay title “All the ills of democracy can be cured by more democracy” confirms my firm belief that the title is not suitable for young adults. I was therefore quite surprised that 3 out of five teachers did not find it problematic, although they all stated that they would assign it only after a classroom discussion. Interestingly enough, the title was also quite popular among students who study English at University of Klagenfurt/Celovec: nearly a half of them did not mind it. Before jumping to conclusions, though, it needs to be pointed out that only 9% of Klagentfurt students provided more or less accurate paraphrases of the complex title. Most of them used the title as a vehicle to bring up other aspects concerning democracy, which led to “paraphrases” such as “Does democracy really exist?” and “Too much democracy leads to anarchy”. Such answers can be seen as fairly reliable evidence that they would very likely create essays that did not fit the title if asked to write them. This suggests that the final decision whether a particular title is suitable for students should be based on teachers’ professional consideration, and not on students’ arbitrary taste. 2: he o er e get the ore di f ult it is to ake friends. Chart 2: The older we get the more difficult it is to make friends. 2: T he old er w e get the m ore diff ic ult it is to m ake friends. hart C hart 3: l the i ls of de ocracy can be cured by ore de ocracy. 3: A ll the ill s of dem ocracy can be cured by m ore dem ocracy. Chart 3: All the ills of democracy can be cured by more democracy. The title “The hardest th ing in life is to know wh ich bridge to cross and w hich to burn” w as, again, title kn ich bridge to cro s and hich to burn” as, again, The title “The hardest thing in life is to know which bridge to cross and which to burn” was, again, surprisingly popular, especially in Klagenfurt/Celovec. Most students put down vague paraphrases such as “An essay on making decisions” and “It is very difficult to choose the right surprisingly popular, especially in lagenfurt/ elovec. ost students put do n vague paraphrases surprisingly popular, especially in K lagenfurt/C elovec. M ost students put dow n vague paraphrases path in life”. as on a on very di ficult to ch ose the right path in life”. such as “An essay on m aking decisi ons” and “It is very diff icult to choo se the right path in life”. 100% 80% 60% 40% 20% 0% 32% 9% 60% 91% 68% 40% Chart 4: The hardest thing in life is to know which bridge to cross and which to burn. Chart 4: The hardest thing in life is to know which bridge to cross and which to burn. Interestingly enough, the answers given by students in Klagenfurt/Celovec confirm my assumption Interestingly enough, the answers given by students in Klagenfurt/Celovec confirm my assumption that the title “We should always tell the truth and nothing but the truth” would be popular, whereas students in Ljubljana were not quite as enthusiastic about it as I had that the title “We should always tell the truth and nothing but the truth” would be popular, whereas expected. Most teachers felt it was a good title. students in Ljubljana were not quite as enthusiastic about it as I had expected. Most teachers felt it Since the title on lying quoted above seems similar to “White lies are a necessary evil,” I had was a good title. presumed that students would feel similarly about both of them. This appears to be true of students in Ljubljana at first sight, although it needs to be pointed out that only 12 (17%) out of 72 students disliked both titles. As much as 27% of students in Klagenfurt/Celovec prefer Since the title on lying quoted above seems similar to “White lies are a necessary evil,” I had presumed that students would feel similarly about both of them. This appears to be true of students the former title to the latter. Out of 44% percent of students who did not like the second title, only 9% (2 students) dislike the title “We should only tell the truth and nothing but the in Ljubljan at first sight, although it needs to be pointed out that only 12 (17%) ut of 72 students truth”, too. A possible explanation could be that the second essay title includes more difficult voca bulary items (two idiomatic expressions); in addition, students’ perso nal opinion may have interfered with their assessment of the title, which can be inferred from some paraphrases disliked both titles. As much as 27% of students in Klagenfurt/Celovec prefer the former title to the such as “White lies are still lies”, and the adjectives assessing the title by moral standards, such latter. Out of 44% perc nt of students who did not like the second title, only 9% (2 students) dislike as “inappropriate ” and “false”. the title “We should only tell the truth and nothing but the truth”, too. A possible explanation could be that the second essay title includes more difficult vocabulary items (two idiomatic expressions); in All in all, 83% of students in Ljubljana and 91% of students in Klagenfurt/Celovec find at least one of the essay titles on lying acceptable, which, at the end of the day, confirms my thesis that lying is obviously a suitable topic for the majority of young adults. addition, students’ personal opinion may have interfered with their assessment of the title, which can be inferred from some paraphrases such as “White lies are still lies”, and the adjectives assessing the title by moral standards, such as “inappropriate” and “false”. All in all, 83% of students in Ljubljana and 91% of students in Klagenfurt/Celovec find at least one of the essay titles on lying acceptable, which, at the end of the day, confirms my thesis that lying is ENGLISH LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE TEACHING 2 obviously a suitable topic for the majority of young adults. Chart 5: We should always tell the truth and nothing but the truth. Chart 5: We should always tell the truth and nothing but the truth. Chart 5: We should always tell the truth and nothing but the truth. Chart 6: White lies are a necessary evil. Chart 6: White lies are a necessary evil. Chart 6: White lies are a necessary evil. Apart from providing valuable insight into the kind of essay titles students (dis)like, the Apart from providing valuable insight into the kind of essay titles students (dis)like, the Apart from providing valuable insight into the kind of essay titles students (dis)like, the questionnaires enabled me to make some other interesting and useful observations. Some questionnaires enabled me to make some other int resting and useful observations. Some students’ students’ paraphrases reveal unique and creative interpretations of some of the essay titles, questionnaires enabled me to make some other interesting and useful observations. Some students’ paraphrases reveal unique and creative interpretations of some of the essay titles, such as “Bridges such as “Bridges tend to collapse” for “The hardest thing in life is to know which bridge paraphrases reveal unique and creative interpretations of some of the essay titles, such as “Bridges to cross and which to burn”. When students feel strongly about a (moral) issue, they want tend to collapse” for “The hardest thing in life is to know which bridge to cross and which to burn”. tend to collapse” for “The hardest thing in life is to know which bridge to cross and which to burn”. to express their opinion on it, which some of them did by choosing an adjective revealing When students feel strongly about a (moral) issue, they want to express their opinion on it, which their stance, and/or by thinking of “paraphrases” which express their view of the matter. Of When students feel strongly about a (moral) issue, they want to express their opinion on it, which course, it is still possible to assume that such a “paraphrase” could be used as the thesis of an some of them did by choosing an adjective revealing their stance, and/or by thinking of “paraphrases” some of them did by choosing an adjective revealing their stance, and/or by thinking of “paraphrases” essay that could fit the title perfectly, but it could also mislead the student into digressing. In addition, some students tend to take the keyword from the title, and then think of a topic related to it but irrelevant to the specific aspect a particular title addresses. 11 11 Generally, the students’ answers should serve as a warning to teachers of writing that their assumptions about what a good essay title is are not necessarily equivalent to what their students like writing about. Therefore, they should be constantly in touch with their students’ interests and needs. Finally, the old saying that tastes differ seems to be as true as ever. It therefore seems a good idea to offer students a wide range of diverse topics whenever there is no good reason to do otherwise. . Suggestions for writing teachers: what can be done? Most students both in Ljubljana (81%) and Klagenfurt/Celovec (91%) claim that they would perform better if they could write an essay on a topic of their own choice. This is not surprising. Connors and Glenn (1995, 53) point out: “When students determine all the elements in their assignments, they can feel more emotionally invested in their writing than they do when they are responding to a teacher’s specifications.” But when asked whether they preferred broad topics to specific ones, 47% of Ljubljana students opted for the former and only 33% for the latter. Admittedly, the majority of students in Klagenfurt/Celovec chose broad topics (68%), but this still means as much as 23% less than 91% (see Charts 7 and 8). The results appear to suggest that students generally feel better if they are guided by a specific title. Some of them offered an explanation for this, saying that it took them too much time to think of what to write about, and that they found it more difficult to stick to the point if the topic was too general. At first, it sounds great that one can write an essay on anything but if students get a chance to do so (and I have tried this out a couple of times), they tend to be lost, finally choosing the usual stock topics that they have been assigned by a teacher at some point during their education. The resulting essays are generally rather dull, displaying predicable structure and arguments. rather dull, displ ying predicable structure and arguments. ather dull, displaying predica ble structure and arguments. Judging by the list of ore popular titles suggested by students, they enjoy writing about personal Judging by the list of m re popular titles suggested by students, they enjoy writing about personal makes it possible for them to draw on their own experience to make (a) powerful and well-supported po int(s). It m ust not be forgotten, however, that some students may be frightened or put off by what they perceive to be too personal an essay title (Cf. Connors and Glenn matters (topics such as ‘friendship’, ‘the generation gap’ and ‘childhood’), which makes it possible for matters (topics such as ‘friendship’, ‘the generation gap’ and ‘childhood’), which makes it possible for 1995, 57; Cushing Weigle 2002; 92). them to draw on their own experience to make (a) powerf l and well-supported point(s). It must no them to draw on their own experience to make (a) powerful and well-su pported point(s). It must not ENGLISH LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE TEACHING 29 be forgotten, however, that some students may be frightened or put off by what they perceive to be be forgotten, however, that some students may be frightened or put off by what they perceive to be Although some studies have shown that allowing writers to choose among several tasks/titles can have disadvantages since “writers do not always make the best choice and [...] choosing among tasks takes up time that could be spent writing”, there are also several arguments in favour of giving students a choice of titles, one of the most important being that “writers may choose to write on the task that they feel they know most about or have the most interest in, [which] may reduce anxiety and allow writers to perform their best” (Cushing Weigle 2002, 103). The answers given by student respondents in the questionnaire show that the majority (63% in Ljubljana and 59% in Celovec) would like to have three titles on various topics to choose from. Those who offered an explanation said that if they are given more titles they have difficulty in deciding which one to choose whereas fewer titles can mean they are given topics or a topic which they are not interested in or which they do not know enough about. Two out of five teachers agree with the students who think that they should be given three titles. Even when provided with a choice of a few titles, some student writers may realise that none of the topics suits them. In such cases Peter Elbow recommends to struggling writers: “Work out alternative assignments with your teacher so that it will be easier and more natural to give your writing to others” (Elbow 1981, 229). He suggests that the new task may be quite close to the original assignment, it may represent a significant variation, or even turn out to be something completely different. A writing teacher should be flexible enough to let this happen when appropriate. Ideally, he or she will even encourage students to negotiate the topic of their writing. Admittedly, this kind of negotiation has its limitations in any school context where writing needs to be tested at some point. Personally, I think that it is very suitable for home assignments, whereas I would be more tentative about using it in an exam situation where it could be abused. To reduce the need of looking for alternative topics/titles, writing teachers can encourage students to co-operate in the choice of topics although, as the students’ answers suggest, it is simply impossible to please everybody. In addition, it is in the nature of things that we sometimes have to produce texts on topics which we are not interested in or which we know little about. Why not occasionally at school as well? Regardless of how many essay titles students are given or whether they are allowed to change the title of their composition (slightly), it remains any writing teacher’s (let alone examiner’s) duty to word their titles carefully and clearly. Difficult vocabulary items, complicated metaphors and profound statements about deeper meanings of life uttered by important people and taken from various dictionaries of quotations (the root of much evil in the area of essay titles, I regret to say) should be avoided. The least those teachers who cannot help assigning such titles should do is to discuss them briefly with their students prior to writing, in order to help them clarify the writing assignment. Four out of five teachers who filled in the questionnaire never do that, the main reason being, as they say, that they do not want to interfere with their students’ interpretation of the title. But apart from offering students essential assistance in understanding a complex title, class discussion enables students to “discover and create additional knowledge for writing. The time for discussion also provides teachers with opportunities to shape and extend student ideas, giving students additional resources to use in their writing” (Grabe and Kaplan 1996, 270–71; see also Clark 2003, 538–9). Sometimes students will be confronted by complex titles when the choice is beyond their teacher’s influence as in the case of any external examination. Therefore, they should be well-equippedtocopewiththem.Theirwritingteachercanhelpthembyteachingthemtoparaphrase difficult essay titles to check their understanding and, possibly, to work out the title’s meaning. If this proves to be an extremely difficult or even impossible task, students should change their minds and choose another topic (which is hopefully there – on the question sheet). All this takes time. A lot of time will be spent on choosing the topic before moving on to gathering ideas, organising them in some way, possibly making an outline, and then writing the first draft. In the 45 minutes which secondary school students in Slovenia are mostly given to write a full-length argumentative essay (surely more demanding and time-consuming than, say, a narration) under exam conditions, one can hardly expect them to embark on a second or even a third draft. If we want them to do so, they should be given much more time. If they are not given more time, the writing teachers’/examiner’s responsibility to choose student-friendly essay titles becomes even more a matter of pressing concern (cf. Koseski 2003, 87). Finally, a writing task becomes much more appealing when it is not restricted to a school situation where it can easily be perceived as practised for its own sake by (too) many students. Lending students’ writing a tangible purpose by, for example, encouraging them to have it published in a students’ paper, increases young writers’ motivation considerably. As Hyland (2002, 81) puts it: “[…] writing tasks should be as authentic as possible to provide students with the options they need to accomplish real rhetorical purposes in target contexts” (cf. Clark and Ivanič 1997, 125; Connors and Glenn 1995, 57; Grabe and Kaplan 1996, 254). 4. Conclusion The respondents’ feedback received from the questionnaires confirms my assumptions about what students and teachers feel are good essay titles to some extent only. However, the unexpected results seemingly rejecting my assessment of a(n) (un)suitablity of a particular title, often turn out to be less out of tune with my view on closer examination. As we have seen, the majority of students may find a fresh title such as “The hardest thing in life is to know which bridge to cross and which to burn” quite appealing but, judging by many vague and also inaccurate paraphrases, this does not necessarily mean that they are up to writing a good piece of writing fitting the title. Of course, further research beyond the scope of this paper would be essential to arrive at a more reliable conclusion while the responses given in the questionnaires and discussed in the article should mainly give food for thought to writing teachers, hopefully making them assign essay titles more carefully. Bibliography Blažić, M. 2002. Zgodovinski oris prostega spisja na Slovenskem (1850 – 2000). Ljubljana: Pedagoška fakulteta. Bright, R. 1995. Writing Instruction in the Intermediate Grades: What is Said, What is Done, What is Understood. Newark, Delaware: International Reading Association. Clark, I.L. 2003. Concepts in Composition. Mahwah, New Jersey and London: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, Publishers. Clark, R., and R. Ivanič. 1997. The Politics of Writing. London and New York: Routledge. Connors, R., and C. Glenn. 1995. The St. Martin’s Guide to Teaching Writing. 3rd edn. New York: St. Martin’s Press. Cushing Weigle, S. 2002. Assessing Writing. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Elbow, P. 1981. Writing with Power: Techniques for Mastering the Writing Process. New York and Oxford: Oxford University Press. Grabe, W., and R.B. Kaplan. 1996. Theory and Practice of Writing. London and New York: Longman. Koseski, B. 2003. Sozvočje prostega in vodenega: pisanje pri pouku (tujih) jezikov. Ljubljana: DZS. IV. TRANSLATION STUDIES Michelle Gadpaille university of Maribor Faculty of education, Department of english and american Studies Cutting Edge Culture for Novice Translators Summary The article briefly explores the rationale for requiring certain types of activities from novice translation students. Three groups of such activities are presented: imitation, analysis and application, each followed by a brief discussion of its effectiveness when used with first-year students in the Translation Programme at the Pedagogical Faculty, University of Maribor. Key words: intercultural studies, translation exercises Kulturne vsebine za prevajalce začetnike Povzetek Prispevek oriše nekatere vrste dejavnosti, s katerimi se seznanjajo slušatelji na začetku prevajalskega programa Pedagoške fakultete Univerze v Mariboru. V ospredju so tri vrste dejavnosti: posnemanje, razčlemba ter uporaba, ki jim sledi krajša obravnava učinkovitosti. Ključni pojmi: medkulturne študije, vaje iz prevajanja Cutting Edge Culture for Novice Translators 1. Introduction Pint, Dave? Bitter, please. Bangers with that? No, ta, chippie tea for me and the missus today. The instruction accompanying the above exercise in cultural detail reads “Who are these people and what are they talking about?” It forms part of material designed for the first year class in Intercultural Studies at the University of Maribor. Dense with cultural specifics, it might have been enigmatic to students in October, but by May should have become transparent, as they dip into the reservoir of culture from English speaking countries. In designing instructional material for such novice translators, we were guided by an awareness of the complexities of this vast cultural area and by the conviction that, as Douglas Robinson says, “... the more aware the translator can become of these complexities... the better a translator s/he will be” (Robinson 1977, 222). We decided at the outset to limit our coverage to the aspects of culture found in verbal language and, to some extent, pictures. Cultural differences carried in behaviour (for example, whether to shake hands or kiss the cheek) remained in the background in these first two semesters. Although not committed to a position that language is the only cultural carrier, we nevertheless felt that beginning translators should concentrate on the medium of language while learning to mine its “cultural deposits” (Newmark 1988, 95) rather than fall into its cultural traps. Our course was designed around four broad principles: exposure, imitation, analysis and application. The first, exposure, occurred continuously throughout the two semesters, in the form of written material, videos, pictures and student oral presentations. Material was selected to represent each of the major English-speaking cultures of the world: British, American, Canadian and Australian. Student oral presentations concentrated on general knowledge about the target culture (holidays, measurements, history, famous people, etc.) and on hot spots of cultural difference that produce interpretive difficulties in written texts (for example, governmental vocabulary). Popular culture per se (movies, pop music, music videos) was not extensively covered, on the theory that these things are more readily available, and that there are other areas with which a first-year student is in greater need of familiarity. The remaining three principles – imitation, analysis and application – each centered on a specific type of student learning activity designed to complement the exposure to cultural material. We will consider, in turn, the rationale behind these three principles and connect this to examples of the kinds of exercises chosen for their implementation. 2. Imitation activities This principle accompanied early lessons in the diction, tone, style, register, voice, structure and genre of various kinds of English prose. Students also learned some principles of English poetry – meter, rhyme, sound effects – conventions of its presentation – capitalized, left-justified line openings – and studied examples of both popular and canonical poetry in English. In all cases, the study of a text was followed by an exercise in imitating that text. We began with an exercise that I found in the British Council’s excellent publication, Creative Ways. The first half of Suniti Namjoshi’s fable, “The Bride”, was presented to the class, who were asked to provide a suitable ending to the fable, using the correct diction, tone and register and observing the conventions of the genre. In order to catch the correct style, students had to make precise diction choices, observe the formal register and ironic tone and demonstrate knowledge of the appropriate conventions. In another exercise, students read Jamaica Kincaid’s very short story, “Girl,” and then were asked to imitate its form, but to alter its context to Slovenia. Kincaid’s story1 is a series of instructions, from a mother to daughter, which accumulate to reveal a portrait of both the mother-daughter relationship as well as the whole social, economic and even political culture on a small West Indian island. In transposing the story from one culture to another, students had to find what was integral to their own, and to represent that in the everyday discourse between generations. Results revealed the value of this activity, as they compiled a highly revelatory portrait of Slovene intergenerational relations. I learned several things while assigning and correcting these exercises. First, that the chosen original stories must be brief. They should not be excerpts. Secondly, great literature seemed to have a shortage of the right kind of story. Faulkner Joyce, Updike – these were not good choices for first year students to imitate – to read, yes, but not to imitate. Better choices for student imitation are more contemporary efforts, such as magazine stories, or even amateur stories, the kind that can be found on websites devoted to genre writing. In order to sharpen the novice translator’s ear for sound and rhythm, I had them read some standard English poetry, including sonnets and ballads. A simple poem in quatrains, with one word removed from each stanza started them off on a career as poetry imitators and writers. On their first day in Intercultural Studies 1, they filled in the blanks in H. Tham’s “Offerings” (another fine suggestion from the British Council publication). I then removed more of the lines and asked for further creativity. Finally, students were assigned to write their own “offerings” poems, following a similar progression through four stanzas of wooing by various offerings. Students were encouraged to alter the metaphor from Tham’s original one of flowers to something else. Some chose food as their offering, some precious stones – one even expressed love in varieties of chocolate.  “girl” was first published on June ,  in the New Yorker, and subsequently in the collection, At the Bottom of the River 3. Another assignment of this type involved writing a response to a Renaissance sonnet (“One day I wrote her name upon the strand” by Edmund Spenser) from a woman’s point of view. Another asked them to change the metaphor in Campion’s poem “There is a garden in her face.” In student hands, Campion’s extended metaphor “There is a garden in her face,/ Where roses and white lilies grow”, metamorphosed into “There is a garden in his face,/ Where red peppers and white radishes grow, ” and “There is a garden in his face,/ Where birds of different species nest.” All metaphors are to some extent culturally embedded, so choosing a new metaphor gives insight into the working of metaphor in the language under study. Additionally, observing the rules of scansion, meter and rhyme challenges the ear of these students, and makes them pay attention to aspects of word selection that go beyond meaning. This is a necessary skill for a good translator, or for any translator who wishes to see beyond the first entry in the dictionary. In testing this skill, I avoided difficult poetry and chose instead something more modern than Renaissance sonnets, and verse rather than serious poetry. In all cases I looked for poetry with a clear metrical pattern for the student to follow, a unified diction field, clear voice and register, and if possible, a theme that unfolds to a predictable pattern over the course of the poem. “My Heart Soars” by the Chief Dan George, a native Canadian, proved ideal for this exercise, with its strong pattern of simple, sensory images from nature. It is not necessary to be a poet to do these exercises well; more important is that ability to pay close attention to the cues – in verb endings, in plurals, in pronouns, in matching rhymes, in parallel sound effects and in syllable patterning – that signal the direction and meaning of a poem. Under test conditions students were given the opening lines of Jessie Pope’s “Noise,” which begins “I like noise” and continues through a regular pattern of assorted, beloved sounds (Pope 1981, 51). In response to the instruction to add about six more lines, one student produced this effort: The clap of the hand, the squeal of a mouse, The crash of a car hitting a house, The cry of a child, the clamour of bells, The clatter of crabs breaking their shells, The shout of a man, the silence of a tree, The shriek of a person who wants to be free. (M. L.) . Analysis activities While students are already practicing skills of literary analysis in the exercises above, they also need to look at texts that highlight a more purely contemporary cultural semiosis. This kind of analysis is best performed on target language material such as jokes, cartoons and advertisements where dense nodes of cultural trivia cluster. In this area, our students were initially overconfident of their cultural knowledge. After all, they had been exposed to British culture in the textbooks from which they had been learning English for years, and to American culture on the television screen. It was necessary, then to add an element of discomfort in their position vis a vis English speaking culture. I chose a quiz, carefully designed to roam across cultural space in Britain, the United States, Canada and Australia. Students were asked to collaborate in pairs on the quiz; I did not want any one student’s particular knowledge gap to become too apparent in public. The type of question is well represented by this one from the realm of American politics: “Hillary Clinton is now a Senator, but is she in Congress?” I composed this question by including an item I thought that all should recognize – the name of Hillary Clinton – plus another well known fact, her successful run for the Senate seat in New York. But the kicker was the Congress question. Did students know enough about the structure of American government to be able to say with certainty that the Senate was one part of Congress? On the whole, they didn’t. Hillary Clinton is certainly in Congress, as are all senators, but my students, raised on episodes of West Wing, either didn’t know this or weren’t sure about it. The course relied on student oral presentations about such areas of cultural focus (Newmark 1988, 94) to identify and fill in any knowledge gaps. Armed anew with facts about government, law, crime, currencies, personalities, measurements, historical events and geographical basics, students were better equipped to analyze the seemingly simple codes of contemporary humour. Humour is often said to be culture specific and not to translate at all well. Setting aside for the moment the matter of taste in humour, there is the more manageable matter of humour that relies on culture specific data, stereotypes and catchphrases. I began from the assumption that we could not teach our students everything they would need to know to understand every New Yorker cartoon, but that they could at least learn when they needed to behave like real translators and Look It Up. Take the cartoon of a Bear and a Bull in bed together in an atmosphere of post-coital familiarity. Students were shown the cartoon without a caption and asked to guess what was going on. Then facts about the New York stock market and its animal symbols were presented and students were asked again to guess at an appropriate caption. Finally, it was revealed that the original caption was “Sure, it was good for us, but what about the market?” This cartoon’s whole effect depended on a specific item of culturally embedded semiosis. Without that knowledge, this appeared to be a piece of rather crude sexual humour, based on miscegenation among the animal kingdom. Another test of this analytical type also required a special bit of cultural knowledge, namely the fact that the Oval Office is in the White House and is identified with the President of the United States and his staff. The cartoon shows two important-looking men coming out of a massive doorway. One says to the other in a private remark, “How long has the Oval Office had a mirror on the ceiling?” The class had been studying the terminology surrounding the American presidency, so any alert student should have recognized the words Oval Office. Only a better-read, more culturally aware student, however, would have gone on to see the reference to the Clinton presidency and its on-site scandals. Cartoons such as these provide excellent practice and testing grounds for cultural trivia, some of which is not so trivial – after all, the term Oval Office can be used metonymically in Washington news reporting to indicate the current President and his executive staff. After the class had worked together on such cartoons, I then assigned them to find a cartoon from their own culture and to explain its meaning to an outsider. This exercise, called Reverse Cultural Awareness, proved to be invaluable in heightening their awareness of just how deep the cultural traps could be for the unwary. After all, when it came to the American or Canadian cartoons, they had only my word for the extensive sub-surface symbolic systems that they were in danger of missing; however, as soon as they found themselves trying to explain a satirical cartoon about Primož Peterka, Milan Kučan or Miss Slovenia Universe, they took control of the semiosis and began to see its opacity to outsiders. One clever example was a simple caricature line drawing of a small figure in an outsize cowboy hat who is holding out his hand to a hatless figure and saying “Wellcome [sic] King of Slovakia”. Though this was a cartoon from a Slovene publication, the words were in English, since the small figure was obviously the American President. The joke turned on two bits of cultural trivia: the international tendency to confuse Slovenia with Slovakia (intensely annoying to Slovenes), and the current American President’s lack of geographical and historical savvy. Similar exercises invite students to extend their cultural explorations by showing them how much there is to be missed if they do not. In applying these types of cartoon exercises I have found that is is best to have students working in groups. Two or three heads are better than one, and it is unwise to leave a student feeling stumped or completely excluded from enigmatic cartoons that simply aren’t funny. Reverse Cultural Awareness is a vital component of this exercise, and I am working on extending this to other types of activity. In the area of Analysis, we did similar exercises with written jokes of various types. My assistant, Tomaž Onič, developed an exercise with Knock-knock jokes that was particularly challenging for the students, but very rewarding in its results. Many jokes turn on word play, and so require careful attention to the potential for doubleness of meaning. E-mail is a source for endless jokes; I found this one in my in-box one morning and immediately determined to use it. NEW WING Recently, when a Panel of Doctors at our local hospital was asked to vote on adding a new wing, this is what happened: The allergists voted to scratch it. The dermatologists preferred no rash moves. The gastroenterologists had a gut feeling about it. The neurologists thought the administration had a lot of nerve. The obstetricians stated they were laboring under a misconception. And so on for several more lines. I liked its combination of verbal challenges for the novice translator. First, there was the matter of the names for various medical specializations and their practitioners – a great opportunity for dictionary work. Second there was the play on words in each doctor’s answer. Each reply was geared to the doctor’s specialization, and involved an idiomatic phrase which punned on some activity from that doctor’s field. The challenge for students was to decide whether, or to what extent, this joke was translatable and to suggest ways of imitating its humour in Slovene. Advertisements also provided material combining verbal complexity with cultural specifics. Once again, students tended to be overconfident about their ability to understand the slogans from English advertisements. We did a class exercise in groups, where each group received a plastic folder containing five or six magazine ads. The assignment was to talk about the ads and find one that was easily translatable, and one that was challenging and to present these two to the class at large. Many double meanings went unspotted; many cultural items went unidentified. What is Saks? Bloomingdale’s? Rigor mortis? Whose martinis need to be shaken not stirred? Once again, the best part of this exercise was the subsequent Reverse Cultural Awareness. Students found advertisements from Slovene magazines and tried to translate the captions into English (in some cases, back into English). There were mistakes, of course. One student confidently proclaimed that a given brand of coffee was “Coffee that spoils.” She hadn’t checked the difference in meaning between the forms of the verb and had gone for to spoil instead of to be spoiled (as in pampered), which the ad’s images of leisure clearly called for. Another advertised a hair care product by claiming that it was for women who were “vaccinated for healthy hair.” In this case an idiom from one language was simply assumed to work identically in the other, with hilarious results. A more successful, literary example concerned Slovenia’s best-known poet, Prešeren, whose face appears on the 1000 tolar note. A company promoting investment used a facsimile of the note bearing Prešeren’s well-known face in order to pun on his name. To the student who spotted and presented this untranslatable cultural allusion, it will forever be clear just how impenetrable an ordinary allusion can be to one outside the cultural inner circle. In testing this skill, I tried to choose visually simple ads that relied heavily on a short slogan for effect. One good example was a magazine ad for a specialized type of bicycle. Above a picture of a smart bicycle was a two line slogan: “Designed to Cruise. Priced to Fly.” The prices quoted made it clear that the buyer would get a substantial discount on the purchase of two bicycles. What I wantedstudentstoseewasthespecialmultiplemeaningsof cruise and fly, whicharesimultaneously two modes of locomotion and two travel preferences (one more luxurious than the other). Fly also functions in the non-literal meaning of fly off the shelf, indicating the likelihood that the bargain will be irresistible to many customers. Here are three examples of student translations that capture the slogan’s meaning and connotations to a greater or lesser extent: Oblikovan za vožnjo. Cena za vzletet. Narejen za križarjenja. Vreden letenja. Izdelek za izlet. Cena za polet. The exercise can present just as much difficulty when working from Slovene media into English (for example, the recent headline Keks v mestu). I was constantly aware, nevertheless, that this type of exercise approaches the outer boundaries of intercultural studies, where cultural knowledge meets linguistic flexibility. Throughout the course, in fact, it proved nearly impossible to separate cultural from linguistic translation in any meaningful way. 4. Application activities Having exposed our students to a deluge of cultural information and new vocabulary in various cultural focuses, we wanted them to discover that such knowledge is useless if it cannot be applied. The creative skills that we rewarded in the Imitation exercises are only part of the skill range these students need; accuracy in identifying culture-bound items is equally important, perhaps even more important. One study of translation ability in the US divided its measurements into areas of Accuracy and Expression and concluded that “[a]ccuracy appears to be the more valid measure for translator ability” (Stansfield 1992, 461). We used magazine, newspaper and Internet articles, essays and short stories for demonstrating the necessity of applying newly acquired vocabulary. However, the volume of such material needed in order to generate a sufficient number of the targeted cultural items was too great for our students to read in two semesters. It was necessary to design some of this material myself in a more compact form. Working with students’ new vocabulary and concept sets, I generated passages dense in culturally allusive items, to all of which the students had been exposed. One example of this kind of exercise is the English Pub scene that opens this article. By the end of the course, students should be able to recognize pint, bitter, bangers, ta, tea and chippie, and should then be able to guess missus from the context. Other passages were seeded with parliamentary vocabulary, the terminology of the American Congress, current university jargon, references to particular culturally iconic sites (Niagara Falls, Ayers Rock, Stratford-on-Avon, Graceland etc.). Here is another example of this kind of Cultural Potpourri, useful for group or pair work in class as well as for testing of accuracy at the end of the course: So you think the bill will be tabled? Nah, not a chance – the Whip has everyone coming in – the boss wants no absentees on this big one. Well, I sure would hate to see it die on the order paper. But the opposition could filibuster. So, can they get it through before recess? The fiscal year is ending too. The ayes want to get back to their ridings as much as anyone. You in the lock-up? Nah – just the gallery. Initially I worried about the artificiality of these texts, believing that the best training material is taken directly from the real world of the target culture. However, I decided finally that the requirement for density and specificity of allusion for testing purposes excused this fabrication. Each of the passages is plausible as a set of real-life utterances, although their total level of ellipsis and idiomatic expression would be unusual. . Conclusion Students need to be made into life-long cultural sponges if they are to be excellent translators. Although there are few effective short cuts to expertise in the target culture, a course such as Intercultural Studies 1 can help in three ways: first, by exposing students to basic cultural facts that they should know. (Yes, the Senate and the House of Representatives are both part of the American Congress. No, Ned Kelly is not a pop star, but a notorious Australian outlaw and folk hero.) Second, by teaching them skills of close attention to textual detail and form in the culture’s literary and media genres, so that their translation choices can go beyond the mere matching of dictionary meanings. (So, if the register of this passage is formal and the subject agriculture, the right noun choice would be produce rather than stuff.) And third, by habituating them to caution in approaching cultural matters. Can they, in other words, sense that the word Lockerbie, used in a contemporary media report is not just a place name but a metonym for a terrorist act? A student who has taken and profited from Intercultural Studies 1 should have learned that the meaning of such a cultural item cannot be assumed to be either unimportant or straightforward. Bibliography The British Council. 2001. Creative Ways: Starting to Teach Creative Writing in the English Language Classroom. London: The British Council. Kincaid, J. 1995. Girl. In The Norton Introduction to Literature, eds. C.E. Bain, J. Beaty & J.P. Hunter, 467–8. New York, London: Norton. Li, X-M. 1996. “Good Writing” in Cross Cultural Context. Albany, NY: SUNY Press. Munday, J., ed. 2001. Introducing Translation Studies: Theories and Applications. London & New York: Routledge. Newmark, P. 1988. A Textbook of Translation. New Jersey: Prentice-Hall. Olk, H. 2003. Cultural Knowledge in Translation. ELT Journal 57, no. 2: 167–74. Pope, J. 1981. Noise. In Enjoying Poetry, eds. R.K. Sadlar, T.A.S. Powell & C.J. Clifford, 51. South Melbourne: Macmillan. Robinson, D. 1977. Becoming a Translator: An Accelerated Course. London & New York: Routledge. Stansfield, C.W., M.L. Scott & D.M. Kenyon. 1992. The Measurement of Translation Ability. The Modern Language Journal 76: 455–67. Stephan, C.W. & W.G. Stephan. 2002. Cognition and Affect in Cross-Cultural Relations. In Handbook of International and Intercultural Communication. 2nd ed., eds. W.B. Gudykunst & B. Mody, 127–40. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Nada Grošelj university of Ljubljana Faculty of arts, english Department Belletristic Translation into English: What Price the Same Order of Words? Summary The order of clause constituents in Slovene is largely guided by functional sentence perspective, while its English counterpart is grammar-based and much less flexible. Therefore the English translation of a Slovene clause often displays a different order of constituents. In poetry, however, the position assigned to an entity, action, or concept within a line of verse contributes to the overall meaning, text pattern, and poetic effect. Accordingly, efforts are made to preserve the same order of participants in translation, which often results in the assignment of a new syntactic role to the participant and the restructuring of the entire clause. This paper discusses the most frequent types of restructuring employed in the English translations of select poems by the contemporary Slovene poet Dane Zajc. Key words: linguistics, translation studies, contrastive analysis, word order, functional sentence perspective Vprašanje besednega reda pri leposlovnem prevajanju v angleščino Povzetek Zaporedje stavčnih členov se v slovenščini večinoma ravna po členitvi po aktualnosti, medtem ko je v angleščini slovnično določeno in temu ustrezno veliko manj prožno. Zato se mora pri prevajanju iz slovenščine v angleščino pogosto spremeniti. Težave pa nastopijo pri prevajanju poezije, saj je za pomen, vzorec in splošni pesniški učinek besedila pomemben prav položaj, ki ga v verzu zavzemajo posamezni pojmi. Zato si prevajalci prizadevajo ohraniti izvirno mesto udeležencev, če pa je to zaradi njihovih skladenjskih vlog nezdružljivo z angleškimi slovničnimi pravili, jim pogosto dodelijo nove vloge in spremenijo zgradbo stavka. V prispevku obravnavam najpogostejše tipe tovrstnih skladenjskih sprememb v angleških prevodih izbranih pesmi sodobnega slovenskega pesnika Daneta Zajca. Ključne besede: jezikoslovje, prevodoslovje, protistavna analiza, besedni red, členitev po aktualnosti Belletristic Translation into English: What Price the Same Order of Words? 1. Introduction The term “word order” refers, strictly speaking, only to the linear sequence of individual words. However, it is generally used also to refer to the sequence of clause elements (Davis 1989, 15), and it is this latter meaning that is the focus of the present discussion. In Slovene, a language with rich morphology, where the relations between clause elements are made sufficiently clear by the inflections of the words, the sequence of these elements is largely “free”. Almost the only clause constituents whose position in the clause is determined grammatically are clitics (e.g. the short unstressed forms of personal and reflexive pronouns, certain forms of the verb biti, “be”, and some particles) and the sequence of co-occurring clitics. There are also a few other tendencies and restrictions, for example the obligatory sequence “subject – predicator – object” in the case of homonymous forms, where it serves to avoid ambiguity (Toporišič 2000, 676). With these exceptions, the sequence of clause elements depends on functional sentence perspective (FSP), beginning with given or less important information and proceeding towards the most salient part of the message. In English, by contrast, the relations among the clause elements are not signalled by inflections. This role is accordingly fulfilled by word order, with syntactic categories following each other in a more or less prescribed sequence. The more central an element is, the more fixed its position, whereas peripheral elements are more mobile. After the predicator, the subject is the least mobile element, followed by the object and by the subject or object complement. The most peripheral and mobile category are adverbials, with the types of adverbial again differing in their degrees of centrality and therefore freedom (Quirk et al. 1992, 51). The English translation of a Slovene clause will thus often display a different order of constituents, e.g. the move of a non-initial subject into initial position. In poetry, however, the position assigned to an entity, action, or concept within a line of verse has important implications for the overall meaning, text pattern, and poetic effect. Accordingly, efforts are made to preserve the same order of participants in translation, which often results in the assignment of new syntactic roles and in the restructuring of the entire clause, as in passivisation. This paper discusses such instances of clause restructuring in regard to the contemporary Slovene poet Dane Zajc and the English translations of his poetry, focusing on the structures most frequently undergoing changes and on the most frequent types of restructuring. The examined material covers a group of eighteen poems which exists in two different English translations; only ten poems, however, are referred to in the paper, since every structure is illustrated by one example only. The poems discussed are “Ujeti volk” (originally published in 1958), “Veliki črni bik” (1958), “Vse ptice” (1958), “Kralj” (1961), “Za vse boš plačal” (1963), “Tihi škrebetavec” (1968), “Ubijalci kač” (1968), “Za prevali” (1979), “Belo” (1984), and “Krokar” (1998). The texts of the first nine are taken from Zajc (1990), and the last from Zajc (1998). An examination of the original texts by Zajc and their translations reveals that three types of Slovene constituent ordering are most commonly avoided in English as marked, emphatic, or even impossible, with restructurings being preferred instead. These three types are the following: 1. The Slovene subject occupies the final position in the clause, or is at least placed after the predicator. 2. The Slovene object occupies the initial position, or is at least placed in front of the predicator. 3. The Slovene adverbial adjunct occupies a position which does not correspond to the position usual for this semantic type of adjunct in English. 2. Discussion of examples 2.1 The Slovene subject occupies the final position in the clause, or is at least placed after the predicator The non-initial Slovene subjects in my corpus which are assigned other syntactic roles in translation for the purpose of maintaining the same position are rendered by a wide range of restructurings: as the notional subjects of there-clauses (existential and presentational), as agentive adjuncts in passive structures, objects (rephrased as such by the use of epistemic converses), discontinuous noun phrases, appositive phrases, and supplementive clauses. In two cases, the original ordering and syntactic structure are preserved, but sound so uncongenial to English that they actually invite a different syntactic interpretation. 2.1.1 Existential clause: “Za prevali”, v. 12 Za prevali ni sledi. Beyond the mountain pass there is no trace.1 (Literally: “Beyond the mountain passes are no tracks.”) The adjunct of place is a typical setting, which is naturally placed in clause-initial position in FSP-dominated languages like Slovene. The most important item of information, on the other hand, is represented by the entity whose existence is negated – the subject – and accordingly placed at the end. From the perspective of the poem, it is vital that the initial position of the adjunct – and consequently the final position of the subject – should be preserved, since the same prepositional phrase recurs at line beginnings throughout the text, thus creating an anaphora.  Perčič and Peet . This requirement is met in both translations, although at the cost of acquiring a slightly marked stylistic flavour. While English space adjuncts, particularly those expressing position (setting) like the above, often do appear in initial position (Quirk et al. 1992, 521), they still favour the final position, “irrespective of grammatical function or semantic role” (ibid.). Another feature contributing to the stylistic effect is the structure of the clause. The alternative translation employs the same structure as the original, i.e. subject-predicator inversion accompanying the preposing of the adjunct: “Beyond the passes are no tracks.”2 This structure is common in English when a predication adjunct (the category includes obligatory adjuncts such as the above) is in initial position (op. cit., 522). Nevertheless, inversion as such is still slightly marked. According to Quirk et al., some instances of preposing-cum-inversion, including an example with a preposed locative adjunct parallel to the above (“There at the summit stood the castle in all its medieval splendour”), are admittedly “less rhetorically unnatural” than others, but they are still “less common in ordinary speech” (op. cit., 1380). To fully assess the markedness of the structure, the type of the postponed subject noun phrase needs to be considered as well. If the subject phrase is indefinite (this may be effected through premodification by an indefinite pronoun, such as “no” in this case) and the predicator is realised by the verb “be”, corpus research has revealed a preference for the use of the existential structure with the grammatical subject “there” over the basic clause structure with a preposed locative adjunct and subject-predicator inversion (op. cit., 1410). The existential clause structure of the translation given in the table is thus more idiomatic than the basic structure of the alternative translation. 2.1.2 Presentational clause: “Kralj”, vv. – [Made up of old broken chains ...] [Sestavljen iz starih razpadlih verig, ...] there rose before me a king je vstal pred mano kralj, crowned with a crown of dark kronan s krono iz temnih misli. thoughts.3 (Literally: “[...] rose before me a king / crowned with a crown of dark thoughts.”) Since the sentence expresses the appearance of an entity on the scene, this entity represents the most important item of information and is accordingly placed in final position in Slovene. The translation given above employs the presentational structure, thus re-creating the original by placing the notional subject last and at the same time satisfying the requirements of the canonical English word order (with the initial grammatical subject). It should be noted, though, that the presentational structure – a there-clause with a verb other than “be” – is judged to be more literary by Quirk et al. than a there-clause with “be”, so that it “is equivalent in effect and style to subject-verb inversion after an initial adverbial” (1992, 1408).  Johnson Debeljak 000. MacKinnon . The other translation, conversely, employs a discontinuous noun phrase, putting the headword “king” before the predicator but retaining the participial structure in final position: “[Made of old disintegrating chains, ...] / – a king stood before me, / crowned with a crown of dark thoughts.”4 As a result, the connection between the original headword and the postmodifying participial clause is weakened, since the clause standing on its own may also be interpreted as a supplementive (adverbial) clause expressing an accompanying circumstance. 2.1. Passivisation -> agentive adjunct role: “Ubijalci kač”, vv. – Ampak to delajo samo tisti, ki imajo radi sebe in si zelo zaupajo. But this is done only by those who are fond of themselves and very self-confident.5 (Literally: “But this do only those / who like themselves / and have much confidence.”) The other translation preserves the active voice and accordingly employs the canonical English word order: “But only those who like themselves / and have much confidence / do this.”6 2.1.4 Object role: “Vse ptice”, vv. 2– [In zbal sem se, da mi bo [vran] neko noč skoz temne sanje razklal lobanjo in da bo iskal z blaznim kljunom,] če se v gnezdu mojih misli ne skrivajo pojoče ptice. [And then I felt afraid that perhaps some night through dreams of darkness he [a raven] would split my skull and probe with his maniac beak] to see if the nest of my thoughts sheltered any hidden songbirds.7 (Literally: “[And I felt afraid / that he [a raven] would one night / through my dark dreams / split open my skull / and that he would search with his crazy beak] / if in the nest of my thoughts / were hiding any songbirds.”) The Slovene ordering reflects the FSP: the setting (“in the nest of my thoughts”) is followed by the predicator and finally by the subject, the latter representing the most important item of information. The final position of the original subject, the participant “songbirds”, is preserved in both translations, but only by means of substantial restructurings. The alternative translation assigns this participant the role of a prepositional object, but the sentence structure is so compressed and altered that it does not allow comparison with the original: “[And I was afraid / that one night / through my dark dreams / he [a raven] would split open my skull / and with his crazy beak] / search in the nest of my thoughts / for any songbirds hidden there.”8  taufer and Scammell 0.  taufer and Scammell 0.  Biggins .  MacKinnon .  taufer and Scammell . The overall structure of the translation given in the table, on the other hand, remains closer to the original, except for the two lines under discussion, where the Slovene subject is assigned the object role by the use of a converse (“hide” vs. “shelter”). The original adverbial adjunct of place accordingly assumes the role of the subject. In English translations from Slovene, this process is a commonplace means of preserving the original ordering of participants and employing the unmarked English word order at the same time (Klinar 1996, 277). 2.1. Discontinuous noun phrase: “Ujeti volk”, vv. 2– [Zakaj si zatulil, volk,] kot da bi zatulila zemlja, ki jo pritiska gora skal? [Why do you howl, wolf,] as the earth howls, when crushed by a mountain of rocks?9 [Why did you howl, wolf,] as the earth howls, when crushed by a mountain of rocks?10 (Literally: “[Why did you howl, wolf,] / as if had howled the earth, / on which presses a mountain of rocks?”) Both translations transform the original relative clause into a separate sentence element, namely into an adverbial adjunct of time, or possibly of contingency.11 The most likely reason is the requirement of the unmarked English word order that the subject precede the predicator, coupled with the end-weight principle (according to which longer and more complex elements are placed towards the end of the clause) and presumably with the translators’ desire to preserve the original, final position of the subordinate clause. If the relative clause was incorporated in the subject and therefore preceded the predicator, both the end-weight principle and the original linear order would be violated. One solution is the use of a discontinuous noun phrase, where the clause could still be understood as a postmodifier: “as the earth howls, which is crushed ...” This discontinuous phrase, however, is subjected to yet further changes in both translations, the postmodifier being transformed into an adverbial adjunct. 2.1. Apposition: “Krokar”, vv. 1–4 Ko leti nizko, se mu na perutih lesketa črno kljubovanje kraljestva skrivnosti. When he flies low, there is a glimmering upon his feathers the black defiance of the realm of mystery.12 (Literally: “When he flies low, / on his wings glimmers / a black defiance of the kingdom of / mystery.”)  Johnson Debeljak . 0 Kravanja 000.  “the meaning of several subordinators that primarily express time, place, or condition may be neutralized in certain contexts to convey a more abstract notion of recurrent or habitual contingency: when, ...” (Quirk et al. , 0).  Johnson Debeljak . The alternative translation adopts the original structure: “When he flies low / on his wings / glimmers / a black defiance / of the kingdom of / mystery.”13 Subject-predicator inversion accompanying the preposing of a locative adverbial adjunct is quite common in English, as explained above; nevertheless, the structure is more marked in English than in Slovene. This may be the reason why the translation given in the table has recourse to substantial restructuring, resulting in “discontinuous apposition” (for the term cf. Quirk et al. 1992, 1302). The original subject is rendered as a postponed appositive phrase, separated from the first appositive (“a glimmering”), which precedes the predicator in keeping with the canonical English word order. 2.1. Supplementive clause: “Tihi škrebetavec”, vv. 4–9 Rubbing smooth a white bone Belo kost, zakopano v pepelu, buried in ashes struži s črnimi nogami, with its black legs nežnejšimi od puha, softer than down tihi stružnik a silent grinding-tool z nečitljivim namenom with inscrutable purpose v pikčastih očeh. in its dots of eyes. 14 (Literally: “The white bone, buried in ashes, / planes with its black legs, / gentler than thistledown, / the quiet planer / with an unreadable purpose / in its speckled eyes.”) The subject of the English sentence given in the table is “the silent grindbeetle” from the first stanza of the poem: “All night long the silent grindbeetle / smooths with its six legs / a white bone.” The final noun phrase – the Slovene subject – is thus best analysed as a supplementive clause. The other translation preserves the final position of this participant as well, which it achieves by passivisation. In contrast to the usual process, however, the participant is not assigned the role of the agentive adjunct but that of a postmodifier in the noun phrase realising this adjunct: “Buried in ash, the white bone / is planed by the black legs, / gentler than thistledown, / of the quiet planer, / with an unreadable intention / in its speckled eyes.”15 2.1.8Possibility of a different syntactic interpretation: 2.1.8.1 “Belo”, v. 9 [in vemo: pot je uročena [and we know: our path is bewitched pot je napačna] zavožena je pot our path is mistaken] is lost our path16 (Literally: “[and we know: the way is bewitched / the way is wrong] gone to seed is the way.”) 3 Kravanja 000.  MacKinnon 0.  [taufer and Scammell] .  Johnson Debeljak . The problematic part is the last clause, where the subject complement is originally placed first and the subject last. The alternative translation simply omits the whole clause: “[we know: the path is determined / the path is mistaken].”17 The translation quoted in the table, on the other hand, preserves the original ordering of predicate and subject. What it does not preserve is the ordering within the predicate, namely the sequence of the subject complement and copula, although the preposing of a subject complement accompanied by subject-predicator inversion is possible in English. Instead, it introduces the sequence “copula – subject complement – subject”, which is ungrammatical. Attempting to impose an acceptable interpretation on the structure, a reader would probably take the entire predicate, “is lost”, as an instance of asyndetic coordination with the predicate of the preceding clause, while the final “our path” would be understood as an expressive repetition of the subject already mentioned. 2.1.8.2 “Za prevali”, vv. 8–9 Za prevali se hitro poslavljajo Beyond the mountain pass bid speedy farewell prijatelji, ljubimci, znanci. friends, lovers, acquaintances.18 (Literally: “Beyond the mountain passes speedily bid farewell / friends, lovers, acquaintances.”) The translation given in the table preserves the original order, but the result is so heavily marked that it invites an alternative interpretation. The form of the verb might be understood as the imperative and the noun phrase following the predicator construed as an indirect object, although the expression “bid farewell” is more commonly followed by a prepositional phrase with “to”. The other translation employs the canonical word order: “Beyond the passes, friends and lovers, / acquaintances bid farewell fast.”19 2.2 The Slovene object occupies the initial position, or is at least placed in front of the predicator Object preposing without inversion is frequently employed in English. The object may be thematic, that is, of relatively low communicative value, for example because it is known from the preceding context and provides direct linkage with it. It may also be rhematic, which means that it conveys important new information. A rhematic preposed object is always stylistically marked, having either the flavour of impromptu informal speech or of mannered rhetoric (Quirk et al. 1992, 1377, 1378). Even a thematic preposed object, however, is felt to be more emphatic in English than in a language with a more flexible word order. The English structure which fully corresponds to the perfectly neutral effect of a preposed thematic object in a Slavic language or in German is the canonical English ordering of predicator – object (Firbas 1992, 126) or one of the information-packaging constructions, such as the identifying clause “This is  Biggins .  Perčič and Peet .  Johnson Debeljak 000. the book he gave me for Christmas” (Kirkwood 1970, 104). Since an English preposed object is thus always more emphatic than the same structure in Slovene, translators often preserve the original order of participants by altering their syntactic roles. The Slovene examples addressed in this paper are rephrased in one translation in such a way that the participant retains the same position but is assigned a different syntactic role, while the other translation preserves the original syntactic structure and thus moves the object after the predicator. In the first two examples, the original order of participants is effected through passivisation, the non-final object becoming the passive subject when in initial position or an adverbial adjunct when non-initial. In the third example, the initial object is made the subject by the use of an epistemic converse. In the fourth, the initial object is preserved in the same position but is more likely to be interpreted as a conjunct, i.e. an adverbial element. 2.2.1Passivisation -> subject role: “Tihi škrebetavec”, vv. 4–9 Belo kost, zakopano v pepelu, struži s črnimi nogami, nežnejšimi od puha, tihi stružnik z nečitljivim namenom v pikčastih očeh. Buried in ash, the white bone is planed by the black legs, gentler than thistledown, of the quiet planer, with an unreadable intention in its speckled eyes.20 (Literally: “The white bone, buried in ashes, / planes with its black legs, / gentler than thistledown, / the quiet planer / with an unreadable purpose / in its speckled eyes.”) The alternative translation preserves the active voice and the object role of the participant, with the result that the latter is moved after the predicator: “Rubbing smooth a white bone / buried in ashes / with its black legs / softer than down / a silent grinding-tool / with inscrutable purpose / in its dots of eyes.”21 2.2.2 Passivisation -> adverbial adjunct role: “Tihi škrebetavec”, vv. 2– All night the six legs Vso noč gladi s šesterimi nogami are rubbed on the white bone by the quiet belo kost tihi škrebetavec. chaferbug.22 (Literally: “All night smooths with its six legs / the white bone the quiet chaferbug.”) This example represents an exception in the group, since the Slovene object is already post-verbal. Nevertheless, its placement would be marked in English because it appears in non­ 0 [taufer and Scammell] .  MacKinnon 0.  [taufer and Scammell]  final position, before the subject. In its attempt to reflect the original structure as closely as possible, the translation quoted above redistributes the syntactic roles completely, but the effect is still stylistically marked because the restructuring itself is rather unusual. Moreover, the sequence of the adverbial adjuncts employed is not the most canonical version; according to Quirk et al., the most common sequence of final adjuncts is that of “process [including the adverbial adjunct of agent] – space” (1992, 565), as in “The royal wedding was seen by millions on television” (op. cit., 559). Thus the restructuring still results in a marked ordering of constituents. The other translation retains the active structure, accordingly placing the object in final position: “All night long with its six legs / the silent grindbeetle is smoothing a white bone.”23 2.2. Subject role: “Veliki črni bik”, vv. 22– [Nobeden ne sliši tvoje samote.] [Nobody hears your loneliness.] Nikogar ne napojiš Nobody drinks s črno krvjo svojega glasu. the black blood of your voice.24 (Literally: “[No one hears your solitude.] / Nobody do you slake / with the black blood of your voice.”) The Slovene text is more emphatic than the English versions because the initial object actually represents new information, so that its most natural place in Slovene would be at the end. In this particular case it is important to preserve the original sequence of participants, because a negative pronoun, nobeden, appears in initial position in the preceding line as well (this time in the role of the subject), so that lines 21 and 22–3 constitute a parallelism. The same figure is achieved by the solution quoted above but lost in the other translation: “[No one hears your solitude.] / You quench no one’s thirst / with your black and bloodied voice.”25 2.2.4 Possibility of a different syntactic interpretation: “Za vse boš plačal”, v. 2 Največ boš plačal za svoje rojstvo. Most of all you will pay for your birth.26 (Literally: “The most you will pay for your birth.”) The role of the phrase “most of all” in initial position is ambiguous, since it would be most naturally interpreted as the conjunct meaning “above all”, which normally occurs in this position. If it is understood as the object, its position is heavily marked. The other translation has the canonical English version: “You must pay the most for your birth.”27 3 MacKinnon 0.  taufer and Scammell 0.  Johnson Debeljak .  Perčič and Peet .  Johnson Debeljak . 2.3 The Slovene adverbial adjunct occupies a position which does not cor­respond to the position usual for this semantic type of adjunct in English Apart from the first example, where the adjunct is a preposed locative expression, the passages under discussion contain adjuncts of manner, which belong to the category of process adjuncts (Quirk et al. 1992, 482). These are usually placed in final position; if they are obligatory for the verb, no other position is likely at all (op. cit., 562). The passage containing a locative adjunct is restructured as an existential clause in one translation, whereas the manner adjuncts are all assigned other syntactic roles in one of the translations. Thus they occur as a premodifier in a noun phrase, as the agentive adjunct in a passive structure, and as a supplementive clause respectively. 2..1 Existential clause: “Za prevali”, v. 12 Za prevali ni sledi. Beyond the mountain pass there is no trace.28 (Literally: “Beyond the mountain passes are no tracks.”) The alternative translation employs the same structure as the original, i.e. subject-predicator inversion accompanying the preposing of the adjunct: “Beyond the passes are no tracks.”29 For a discussion, see 2.1.1. 2..2 Premodifier in a noun phrase: “Za prevali”, v. 8 Za prevali se hitro poslavljajo Beyond the mountain pass bid speedy farewell prijatelji, ljubimci, znanci. friends, lovers, acquaintances.30 (Literally: “Beyond the mountain passes speedily bid farewell / friends, lovers, acquaintances.”) In Slovene, the pre-verbal position of the manner adjunct is the canonical one, since a de-adjectival manner adverb has a well-nigh fixed position before the predicator (Toporišič 1967, 258), thus representing an exception to the principle of FSP-dominated word order. In English, on the other hand, this position would be uncommon. Therefore the translation quoted above re-creates the same order of ideas through transforming the adverb into an adjective, which can occur before the notion of “farewell” by functioning as a premodifier. The other translation employs the canonical word order: “Beyond the passes, friends and lovers, / acquaintances bid farewell fast.”31  Perčič and Peet .  Johnson Debeljak 000. 30 Perčič and Peet . 3 Johnson Debeljak 000. 2.. Passivisation -> agentive adjunct role: “Tihi škrebetavec”, vv. 4–9 Belo kost, zakopano v pepelu, struži s črnimi nogami, nežnejšimi od puha, tihi stružnik z nečitljivim namenom v pikčastih očeh. Buried in ash, the white bone Is planed by the black legs, Gentler than thistledown, Of the quiet planer, With an unreadable intention In its speckled eyes.”32 (Literally: “The white bone, buried in ashes, / planes with its black legs, / gentler than thistledown, / the quiet planer / with an unreadable purpose / in its speckled eyes.”) In this case, the change of the syntactic role of the adjunct cannot be explained by any difficulties arising from its original position, since it is placed after the predicator in Slovene. The explanation is probably to be sought in an attempt to preserve the final position of the participant stružnik (“planer”) while maintaining a coherent narrative: if the instrument adjunct “with (the/its) black legs” was to appear before the owner of the legs – the agent “planer” – has been mentioned, its reference would be unclear. The restructuring employed, on the other hand, creates a well-knit sentence. The other translation employs the active voice: “Rubbing smooth a white bone / buried in ashes / with its black legs / softer than down / a silent grinding-tool / with inscrutable purpose / in its dots of eyes.”33 2..4 Supplementive clause: “Za prevali”, v.  Samo gibi v zraku krožijo srebrno. Only gestures in the air still circle, silver.34 (Literally: “Only gestures in the air circle silverly.”) The final position of the Slovene manner adjunct is highly marked and emphatic, since a de-adjectival manner adverb normally occurs before the predicator. In English, by contrast, the final position would be the most natural choice, but it is preserved in neither translation. In the version quoted above, the adverb is replaced by an adjective; the latter still realises an adverbial adjunct, but one which has a much more vague semantic connection with the rest of the sentence, namely a supplementive clause. This change is probably motivated by word choice, since the adverb “silverly” is rather unusual, particularly when used in reference to movement. 3 [taufer and Scammell] . 33 MacKinnon 0. 3 Johnson Debeljak 000. The alternative translation, “Only the gestures circle silverly in the air,”35 preserves the form and function of the adverb, as well as its position after the predicator. Nevertheless, its original placement at the very end is not re-created because the locative adjunct “in the air” has been moved to occupy this position. The movement of this adjunct from its pre-verbal position is in accordance with the usual English word order. Moreover, its placement after the manner adjunct is in keeping both with the end-weight principle (the “heavier” prepositional phrase being placed after the adverb) and the tendency of final adjuncts to follow the sequence “process – space”. . Conclusion The structures employed in the English translations of Slovene post-verbal subjects, pre-verbal objects, and adverbial adjuncts with the purpose of re-creating the original sequence of participants may be summarised as follows: Non-initial Slovene subjects display the widest range of possibilities. They may appear as the notional subjects of existential and presentational there-clauses, as agentive adjuncts in passive structures, objects (assigned this role by the use of epistemic converses), discontinuous noun phrases, appositive phrases, and supplementive clauses. Non-final Slovene objects, on the other hand, may be assigned the subject role by the use of passivisation or epistemic converses, or, less typically, even assume the role of adverbial adjuncts in passive structures. Attempts at preserving the original syntactic structure as well as word order may result in ill-formed structures, or at least in structures offering the possibility of a different syntactic interpretation. Adjuncts, finally, may be used in the framework of existential clauses, or rendered as other clause or even phrase elements. These changes are not always due to their original position in the clause, but also to stylistic considerations such as word choice. The diversity of the translations reflects the difficulty involved in maintaining a balance between the original text structure and the requirements of the target language. Bibliography Biggins, M., trans. 1988. Whiteness. In Vilenica 88, ed. V. Taufer, 235. [Ljubljana]: Društvo slovenskih pisateljev, Sežana: Zveza kulturnih organizacij. – – –, trans. 1994. Snake Killers. In Prisoners of Freedom: Contemporary Slovenian Poetry, ed. A. Debeljak, 64–5. Santa Fe: Pedernal Press. Davis, M. 1989. Aspects of Adverbial Placement in English and Slovene. München: Sagner. Firbas, J. 1992. Functional Sentence Perspective in Written and Spoken Communication. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Johnson Debeljak, E., trans. 1997. The Captive Wolf. In The Imagination of Terra Incognita: Slovenian Writing 1945–1995, ed. A. Debeljak, 195. Fredonia, New York: White Pine Press. – – –, trans. 1997. The Crow. In The Imagination of Terra Incognita: Slovenian Writing 1945–1995, ed. A. Debeljak, 197–8. Fredonia, New York: White Pine Press. – – –, trans. 1997. Great Black Bull. In The Imagination of Terra Incognita: Slovenian Writing 1945–1995, ed. A. Debeljak, 203–4. Fredonia, New York: White Pine Press. 3 Perčič and Peet . – – –, trans. 1997. White. In The Imagination of Terra Incognita: Slovenian Writing 1945–1995, ed. A. Debeljak, 201–2. Fredonia, New York: White Pine Press. – – –, trans. 1997. You Must Pay for Everything. In Krokar, 52. Ljubljana: Edina. – – –, trans. 2000. Beyond the Passes. In Ogenj v ustih (CD), by D. Zajc and J. Škof. Ljubljana: Študentska založba. Kirkwood, H. W. 1970. Some Systemic Means of “Functional Sentence Perspective” in English and German. IRAL 8, no. 2 (May): 103–14. Klinar, S. 1996. Prevajanje slovenskih predložnih prislovnih določil. In Prispevki k tehniki prevajanja iz slovenščine v angleščino, ed. S. Klinar, 270–9. Radovljica: Didakta. Kravanja, S., trans. 2000. Captive Wolf. In Scorpions, 39. Litterae Slovenicae 1/2000/XXXVIII/96. Ljubljana: Slovene Writers’ Association. – – –, trans. 2000. Raven. In Scorpions, 32–3. Litterae Slovenicae 1/2000/XXXVIII/96. Ljubljana: Slovene Writers’ Association. MacKinnon, A., trans. 1965. All the Birds. In Slovene Poets of To-day, 134–5. Ljubljana: Slovene Writers’ Association. – – –, trans. 1965. The King. In Slovene Poets of To-day, 136–7. Ljubljana: Slovene Writers’ Association. – – –, trans. 1980. The Silent Grindbeetle. In Panorama of Contemporary Slovene Literature, eds. C. Zlobec and H. Glušič, 41–2. Ljubljana: Slovene PEN Centre & Slovene Writers’ Association. Perčič, T., and B. Peet, trans. 1988. Beyond the Mountain Pass the Eye of God Rots. Le livre slov2ne XXVI/1988, nos. 1/2: 15–6. – – –, trans. 1988. You Will Pay for Everything. Le livre slov2ne XXVI/1988, nos. 1/2: 14. Quirk, R., S. Greenbaum, G. Leech, and J. Svartvik. 1992. A Comprehensive Grammar of the English Language. London: Longman. Taufer, V., and M. Scammell, trans. 1970. The Big Black Bull. In New Writing in Yugoslavia, ed. B. Johnson, 249. Harmondsworth: Penguin. = Le livre slov2ne XX/1982, nos. 1/2: 53. – – –, trans. 1970. The King. Modern Poetry in Translation 8: Slovenia (Yugoslavia): 14. = Le livre slov2ne XX/1982, nos. 1/2: 51–2. – – –, trans. 1970. Snake Killers. In New Writing in Yugoslavia, ed. B. Johnson, 246–7. Harmondsworth: Penguin. = Le livre slov2ne XX/1982, nos. 1/2: 53–4. – – –, trans. 1982. All the Birds. Le livre slov2ne XX/1982, nos. 1/2: 54. – – –, trans. 1997. The Chaferbug. In Krokar, 60. Ljubljana: Edina. Toporišič, J. 1967. Besedni red v slovenskem knjižnem jeziku. Slavistična revija 15: 251–74. – – –. 2000. Slovenska slovnica. 4th ed. Maribor: Obzorja. Zajc, D. 1990. Pesmi. Dane Zajc v petih knjigah. Ljubljana: Emonica. – – –. 1998. Dol dol. Ljubljana: Nova revija. Darja Hribar university of Maribor Faculty of education, Department of english and american Studies An Examination of Lexical Choices in Slovene Translations of British and American Drama Summary The article examines lexical choices preferred by a noted Slovene translator of dramatic texts. It is based on the assumption that in spite of the fact that lexical choices offer much greater freedom in translation than, for instance, grammatical choices, they are subject to a number of intratextual and extratextual factors defining the genre, the kind of translation, and specific features of individual plays. Although examples are taken from only one set of translations of Tennessee Wiliams’s A Streetcar Named Desire, they also refer to other working and published versions of drama translations into Slovene, including Albee’s Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, Miller’s Death of a Salesman, Pinter’s plays, and Shaw’s Pygmalion. The shifts considered in the article relate to register, i.e. factors of language variation affecting lexical choices related to the field, mode, and tenor of discourse. Key words: drama translation, shifts, register, Tennessee Williams, A Streetcar Named Desire Leksikalni izbor v slovenskih prevodih angleške in ameriške drame Povzetek Članek preučuje izbor leksikalnih enot v prevodih znanega slovenskega prevajalca dramskih besedil. Izhaja iz prepričanja, da čeprav v prevodu izbira besed prevajalcu nudi veliko več svobode kot, na primer, izbira slovničnih oblik, je tudi prva odvisna od številnih zunaj in znotraj besedilnih dejavkov, ki so odvisni od vrste drame, vrste prevoda in posebnih značilnosti posamezne igre. Čeprav so primeri v članku vzeti samo iz dveh različic slovenskih prevodov ene ameriške drame, to je Williamsovega Tramvaja poželenja, se nanašajo tudi na nekatere druge slovenske prevode angleške in ameriške drame, kot, na primer, Kdo se boji Virginie Woolf? (Albee), Smrt trgovskega potnika (Miller), Pinterjeve igre, Pygmalion (Shaw), itd. Prevodni premiki, ki jih preučuje se nanašajo na register, to je na funkcijsko zvrsti jezika, ki jo določajo polje, način in ton diskurza. Ključne besede: dramski prevod, prevodni premiki, register, Tennessee Williams, Tramvaj Poželenje An Examination of Lexical Choices in Slovene Translations of British and American Drama 1. Introduction In Lefevere’s words, translations are not just texts written in a different language; they also have to fulfil a function in a different place, a different time, a different society and a different culture (Lefevere 1992, 12). Translation is a mater of constant choice, every moment in the process being a moment of decision. Shifts from the source text are inevitable. Even the most adequacy-oriented translation involves shifts from the source text, dictated by differences between the linguistic and cultural systems of the source and target communities. Besides, translators may decide on shifts for stylistic, ideological or other reasons, such as, for instance, especially in the case of drama, to maintain the flow of the message and to comply with expectations of the target text receptors. What is most important is that their decisions should be motivated by and based on a thorough examination of all relevant facts. In Slovene circumstances, the assumption that a native speaker is automatically capable of translating everything into his/her own language without specific knowledge is still widely held by the general public. This is not surprising. What is surprising is that some literary translators, considering themselves good connoisseurs of language and culture, feel even more confident in this respect. Many existing translations of dramatic pieces, however, show that specific knowledge is essential for the job and that Slovene translators often succumb to the temptation to choose the first solution that comes to mind without considering its wider literary or social impact. Though today Slovene literary translators are widely aware that the aesthetic effect of literature resides in the way it is expressed and formed through language, they tend to neglect this intrinsic connection when translating. The lack of a more systematic approach to translation leads to many unmotivated shifts. The most common shifts in Slovene translation of English dramatic literature are those relating to different levels of meaning of lexical units. Such translations show an absence of the study of the relationship between language activity and the social context in which it takes place (Hatim and Mason 1990, 1997), a lack of constant decision-making process as to the function of both texts in their several contexts (Vermeer and Reiss 1984; Nord 1997), and a pronounced emphasis on “semantic” rather than “communicative” translation (Newmark 2003). Above all, Slovene drama translators seem unable to remain consistent with previously introduced translation strategies and norms. This is only partially dependent on the fact, as Uroš Mozetič rightly puts it, that “the Slovene language is not very well dictionarized and that it lacks the recording of the range of its nonstandard varieties”, which is especially relevant for drama translation. It, to a much greater extent, depends on the fact, that (again in Mozetič’s words) the majority of Slovene literary translators are “self-made translators with a good feeling for language” (1995, 123) but insufficient specialized knowledge. Slovene drama translators are often playwrights or dramaturges capable of considering special features important for shaping the process of meaning in drama (such as nonverbal communication, visuals and design, music and sound etc.), but not literary translation “scholars” (Lefevere 1992, 92). This is particularly noticeable in their unmotivated mixing of different levels of language variation, especially register. Besides, the examined Slovene translations of plays do not make a distinction between translation of plays intended for publication and those intended for specific production, the distinction usually denoted in terms of retrospectiveness/adequacy versus prospectiveness/acceptability of translation (Toury 1980; Van den Broeck 1986). 2. Lexical choices and style Lexical choices depend to a great extent on the style of writing. As Leech and Short put it, when studying style, we approach texts from the linguist’s angle. We do not ask ourselves so much what is being said but why and how something is being said. So when considering style we are not interested in semantic features of a text but in the way a semantic context is communicated to the reader. To be able to establish this, we have to constantly move from linguistic details to the literary centre of a work (Leech and Short 1981, 13). This involves a constant process of interpretation. The process always reflects the interpreter’s “own mental and cultural outlook, despite the best of impartial intentions” (Hatim and Mason 1990, 11). The more knowledgeable the interpreter is, the more linguistic, literary-historical and cultural features she or he is capable of detecting. What is not detected in the original is usually lost in translation. Linguists and translatologists divide style into individual and social levels. Individual style is defined as the marked, expressive quality of language, that is, its illocutionary power (Lefevere, 1992), being the result of motivated choices made by text producers. Social styles (Hatim and Mason 1990, 38–9) vary according to the use and/or user. Use-related varieties are known as registers (differing from each other primarily in language form, that is, grammar and lexis); user-related varieties are called dialects, capable of displaying differences at all levels (graphic, lexico-grammatical, and relevant extra-linguistic features), but differing from person to person primarily in the phonic medium. Social styles include register, idiolect and dialects (geographical, temporal, social, and (non-)standard). Great authors have always also been great artists in the choice and use of words. If the translators want to give credit to the author and to act professionally and respectfully towards their readers/spectators, they should make all possible efforts to establish basic features of the original and to functionally transfer these into another language and culture. This is however not always the case. Let us take some examples. For the sake of brevity, this presentation focuses on a consideration of the most typical stylistic shifts in two Slovene translations of Williams’s A Streetcar Named Desire, both done by the same translator and available in working and published versions. The findings however also relate to a number of other Slovene translations of dramatic literature (such as, for instance, Albee’s Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, Miller’s Death of a Salesman, Shaw’s Pygmalion and Pinter’s plays) and include a wide range of other shifts, too. 2.1 Register shifts in Zdravko Duša’s translation of Tennessee Williams’s play A Streetcar Named Desire: the characterization of Blanche and Stanley There are four Slovene translations of the play. The first, a working translation, is by Herbert Grün (1952), the second is a TV adaptation, and the remaining two are by Zdravko Duša. Grün’s translation of the play is very old, abounding in obsolete and “proper” language, which often sounds strange in its context. The first Duša translation (1999/2000) was originally intended for the first Slovene production of the play (here referred to as D1); the second was published in an anthology of American drama (Kralj 2001), here referred to as D2. There are, however, no essential differences between the two translations concerning register. Though having “polished” certain passages of the text, in general Duša’s published translation of the play is essentially the same as the working one. Regarding the intial norm (Toury 1980, 54) and prevailing translation strategy, both translations can be termed retrospective, since textual relations and norms expressed by this have in principle been subjected to the original text. The translator, however, adopted a different strategy relating to register, thus ultimately coming up with a markedly different product. Let us consider an example. In the original rendering, the protagonists of the play, Stanley and Blanche, show obvious, striking and even shocking differences. In Slovene translation, this distinction is completely blurred. 2.1.1 Characterization of Stanley Stanley is an ordinary, uneducated and rude man, a characterization which is obvious from his acts as well as language. He expresses himself in colloquial or even lower colloquial English, often resorting to abusive language, too. Let us see how the authors’ lexical choices are rendered into Slovene and what consequences the shifts have. Changing slang and non-standard language into standard language When translating Stanley’s cues, Duša often changes slang and non-standard language into standard language, thus making Stanley sound more polite and educated than he really is. Though proving a good conoisseur of both levels of language, Duša is not consistent in translation. Let us take some examples. (i) Stanley after a few first casual sentences with Blanche inquires (my emphases as in the subsequent text): STANLEY: You (non-standard for “you’re) going to shack up (slang for “live, dwell) here? (Williams 1989, 1829) STANLEY: Računaš ostat (non-standard)? (D1, 20) Se boš tu naselila (standard)? (D2, 86) (ii) Stella tries to prevent Stanley from being rude to Blanche, but Stanley is determined to stay and to have a talk with Blanche about the loss of Belle Reve: STANLEY: You’re damn tootin’ (slang obs for you won’t stop me). I’m going to stay here. (Williams 1989, 1832) STANLEY: Seveda (standard) bom ostal, sigurna bodi. (D1, 26) Normalno (standard), da bom ostal. (D2, 90) (iii) Stanley and Blanche have a conversation about women. Stanley is commenting on his relationship with a glamorous self-centred lady, who constantly refers to how glamorous she used to be. His response was “So what?” When Blanche asks him what the lady said then, Stanley answers: STANLEY: She didn’t say nothing (non-standard). That shut her up like a clam (non­standard). (Williams 1989, 1833) STANLEY: Nič ni rekla (standard). Bila je tiho ko rit (vulgar). (D1, 28; D2, 91) No change of register (i) Stanley wanting Blanche to stop pretending says: STANLEY (booming): Now let’s cut the re-bop (slang)! (Williams 1989, 1833) STANLEY (zagrmi): Zdaj pa nehajva nakladat (slang)! (D1, 28; D2, 91) (ii) Stanley to Mitch during the poker game: STANLEY: /…/ Get y’r ass of the table (vulgar), Mitch. /…/ (Williams 1989, 1836) STANLEY: /…/ Rit dol z mize (vulgar), Mitch! /…/ (D1, 33; D2, 95) (iii) Stanley to his poker friends who want to restrain him from doing Stella some more harm: STANLEY: Let’s the rut go of me, you sons of bitches (vulgar)! (Williams 1989, 1841) STANLEY: Kurbe pizdunske, pustite me, da se zgonim (vulgar)! (D1,45; D2, 103) The above, and many other, examples show that in Stanley’s case Duša mostly retains the language level of the original, especially when it comes to vulgar and offensive expressions. He, however, tends to embellish Stanley’s speech. 2.1.2 Characterization of Blanche In the original Blanche is an educated lady, expressing herself in either a highly motivated personal use of language (personal style) or standard English. Her language is in sharp contrast with the lower colloquial or colloquial language (sociolect) used by Stanley and his poker friends. Blanche is well read, highly intelligent and cultured. She is also an extremely passionate and unrealistic person, expressing herself with rich, colourful and imaginative language. Her language betrays the fact that she actually lives in the world of poetry and dreams of an idealized past. She is particularly versed in the strange, exotic and weird, all features characteristic of Poe’s poetry, which she keeps quoting throughout the play. Her use of alliteration, for instance, serves to point out her poetic, emotional and vulnerable nature. In addition, Blanche is capable of creating ironic and parodistic effects. In fact irony and parody are her strongest weapons. No other character in the play is capable of creating such a discrepancy between the polite, formal (even hyperformal), imaginative language and the situation in which it is used. Preserving alliteration but changing imaginative into colloquial language (i) Blanche notices that Stella has gained some weight: BLANCHE: /…/ But you, you’ve put on some weight, yes, you’re just as plump as a little partridge (alliteration)! And it’s so becoming (standard) to you! (Williams 1989, 1825) BLANCHE: /…/ Ampak ti – ti si se majčkeno zredila, ja, pravi polhek (alliteration) si. Nimaš pojma, kako ti paše (lower colloquial)! (D1,13; D2, 80)1 Changing alliterative and imaginative into colloquial language (i) Reproaching Stella for blaming her for the loss of the house and all the other family possessions, Blanche cries out: BLANCHE: /…/ Sit there and stare (alliteration, standard) at me, thinking I let the place go! (Williams 1989, 1826) BLANCHE: /.../ Sedi tam in me glej zabodeno (no alliteration,colloquial), češ: domačijo je zapravila! /.../ (D1, 17; D2, 84)2 Lessening ironic and parodistic overtones (i) Realizing that Stanley is convinced that she has cheated her sister and him and that she is hiding some possessions from them, Blanche ironically remarks: BLANCHE: What in the name of heaven are you thinking of! What’s in the back of that little boy’s mind of yours (insulting)? That I am absconding  the Slovene standard expression for “it’s so becoming to you” is kako lepo se ti poda.  alliteration and standard Slovene are possible here: sedeti, strmeti (for the english “sit” and “stare”). 24 Darja Hribar An Examination of Lexical Choices in Slovene Translations of British and American Drama (formal) with something, attempting some kind of treachery on my sister? /…/ (Williams 1989, 1834) BLANCHE: Pa kaj za božjo voljo misliš! Kaj se ti mota po otročjih možgančkih (insulting)? Da te fintiram (slang), ker hočem ne vem kako ogoljufat svojo sestro? /.../ (D1, 30; D2, 92) (ii) Stanley notices some papers in Blanche’s trunk, wanting to see them all to verify if Blanche is telling him the truth. Blanche reacts: BLANCHE: /picking up a large envelope containing more papers/ There are thousands of papers, stretching back over hundred of years, affecting Belle Reve as, piece by piece, our improvident grandfathers and father and uncles and brothers exchanged the land for their epic fornications (formal) – to put it plainly! /…/. /She pours the contents of the envelope on the table./ Here all of them are, all papers! I hereby endow you with them! (hyperformal) Take them, peruse them (hyperformal) – commit them to memory, even! I think it’s wonderfully fitting that Belle Reve should finally be this bunch of old papers in your big, capable hands! /…/ (Williams 1989, 1834) BLANCHE: vzame veliko kuverto, v kateri so prav tako papirji: Na tisoče papirjev je, za sto let in več nazaj, v zadevi Belle Reve, ko so najini lahkomiselni dedje in oče in strici in bratje posestvo košček za koščkom menjali za svoje junaško vlačuganje (D1 pejor)/kurbirske podvige (D2 low coll) – po domače povedano! /…/ (Izsuje vsebino kuverte na mizo.) Tu imaš vse papirje, vse! Izvoli jih prevzeti! (D1) /Izvoli, tu ti jih izročam (standard) (D2)/ Vzemi jih, preuči jih (standard) – nauči se jih na pamet, magari! (coll) Zdi se mi res kot nalašč (D1) /mislim, da je več kot primerno(D2)/, da Belle Reve nazadnje pristane (D1) /konča (D2)/ kot kupček starih papirjev v tvojih velikih, sposobnih rokah! /…/ (D1, 31; D2, 93-4) There are additional colloquialism of the above types in the translation, all of which sound rather strange in the general context of the situation and tenor of discourse. The most common shifts on the linguistic level of the play fall into the category of stylistic shifts with respect to the register element (tenor of discourse). Register provides information on the social distance between participants in the language situation (Leuven-Zwart, 1989). The result of Duša’s frequent use of colloquialism instead of Blanche’s educated formal and/or hyperformal tenor, on the one hand, and her rich, imaginative and poetic language, on the other, lessens the social distance between her and Stanley and considerably changes Blanche’s characterization in translation. In Slovene translation, Blanche often sounds as rude and uneducated as Stanley, which was certainly not Williams’s original intention. What is more the translator’s willingness to degrade her language reveals a pronounced traditional male perception of the promiscuous woman as whore. . Conclusion A minute comparison of specific areas of language choice of a number of Slovene translations of plays often reveals the absence of a more systematic approach to the study of individual levels of language and a pronounced emphasis on the use of one register in different literary and pragmatic contexts. This complies with the assumption of Toury who finds that “translator’s behaviour cannot be expected to be fully systematic. Not only can his/her decision-making be differently motivated in different prolem areas, but it can also be unevenly distributed throughout an assignment within a single probem area” (Toury 1995, 67). Toury’s assumption certainly proves true in the above examples. In our case it also points to an ideologically and stylistically tinged approach to translation, one which dismisses a more “scholarly” approach as unnecessary and not worthy of a true artist. The latter, however, often results in the lessening of that same true artistic value of the original it proclaims to preserve in translation. Bibliography Broeck, van den R. 1986. Translating for the Theatre. Linguistica Antverpensia 1, no. 2: 96–100. Duša, Z., trans. 1999/2000. Tramvaj Poželenje. Working translation. SNG Ljubljana. – – –., trans. 2001. Tramvaj Poželenje. In Kralj, ed., 69–158. Grün, H., trans 1952. Tramvaj Hrepenenje. Working translation. PG Kranj. Hatim, B., and I. Mason. 1997. The Translator as Communicator. London: Routledge. – – –. 1990. Discourse and the Translator. London and New York: Longman. Kralj, L., ed. 2001. Ameriška drama 20. stoletja. Ljubljana: Karantanija. Leech, G.N., and M.H. Short. 1981. Style in Fiction. A Linguistic Introduction to English Fictional Prose. London and New York: Longman. Lefevere, A. 1992. Translating Literature: Practice and Theory in a Comparative Literature Context. New York: The Modern Language Association of America. Leuven-Zwart, van K. 1989. Translation and Original: Similarities and Dissimilarities I. Target 1, no. 2: 151–81. Mozetič, U. 1995. The Impact of Translation Deviation upon the Reception of Eugene O’Neill’s Plays in Slovenia. In American Literature for Non-American Readers: Cross-cultural Perspectives on American Literature, ed. M. Grosman, 123–38. Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang. Newmark, P. 2003. A Textbook of Translation. London: Longman. Nord, C. 1997. Translating as a Purposeful Activity: Functionalist Approaches Explained. Manchester: St. Jerome. Reiss, K., and H.J. Vermeer. 1984. Grundlegung einer allgemeinen Translationstheorie. Tubingen: Max Niermeyer. Toury, G. 1980. In Search of a Theory of Translation. Tel Aviv: The Porter Institute for Poetics and Semiotics. – – –. 1992. Descriptive Translation Studies and Beyond. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins Publishing Company. Williams, T. 1989. A Streetcar Named Desire. In Norton Anthology of American Literature II, ed. N. Baym et al., 1818–78. New York, London: Norton and Co. Uroš Mozetič university of Ljubljana Faculty of arts, english Department The Rack-Brain Pencil-Push of hurt-in-hiding: Translating the Poetry of Seamus Heaney into Slovene Summary The paper raises the issue of the Slovene possibilities of translating culture-, politics-, and language-specific poetic texts of the Irish author Seamus Heaney. The inquiry has been triggered by the unfavourable response to the poet’s work in Slovenia, which is all the more telling in light of other modern Irish writers, especially dramatists, who have lately gained firm ground and acquired sympathy from the Slovene public. Our comparison of Heaney’s poems with their Slovene translations is, therefore, aimed at elucidating the main reasons for such a tepid response, drawing mainly on a variety of the Slovene stylistic, linguistic, and pragmatic interpretations of his poetic output, which happen to be more often than not at variance with the author’s intrinsic poetic output and thus the chief culprit in the misapprehension of his poetic communiqué. Key words: Seamus Heaney, translation strategies and norms, political and social discourse, intercultural rapport Bob ob steno birokrata tuge-v-tajnosti: prevajanje poezije Seamusa Heaneyja v slovenščino Povzetek Članek obravnava možnosti prevodnega posredovanja specifičnih kulturnih, političnih in jezikovnih posebnosti poetike irskega avtorja Seamusa Heaneyja, ki je, za razliko od večine Nobelovih lavreatov in zlasti irskih dramatikov naletel v Sloveniji na mlačen odziv. V pričujoči razpravi skušamo osvetliti in pojasniti razloge za takšen sprejem, in sicer na jezikovni, slogovni in pragmatični ravnini. Ugotavljamo, da je bila poetična misel Seamusa Heaneyja v slovenskem prostoru v večini primerov neprimerno ali celo napačno posredovana, ker se slovenski prevajalci niso primerno lotili avtorjeve posebne rabe diskurza, ki vključuje tako sinhrone kot diahrone jeziko(slo)vne prakse. Ključne besede: Seamus Heaney, prevodne strategije in norme, politični in družbeni diskurz, medkulturno razmerje The Rack-Brain Pencil-Push of hurt-in-hiding: Translating the Poetry of Seamus Heaney into Slovene 1. Introduction What prompted me to compose this paper springs from several occasions or circumstances. The first one is a reflection of my reading of the existing Slovene translations of Seamus Heaney’s poems and the observations of the many inadequacies of these translations. The second reason is my first-hand experience with Heaney in that I have spent the past years trying to render into Slovene these profoundly Irish-universal poems, particularly those from his latest poetry collection, Electric Light (2001). Furthermore, there are other circumstances regarding the position of Seamus Heaney in Slovenia, which are perhaps even more thought-provoking in the post-artistic sense. Curiously enough, Heaney has been the least discussed and translated English-writing Nobel laureate author in Slovenia. In fact, it was not until 1995 that he attracted some critical and translation interest, when he received the Nobel Prize for literature. The Slovene translators’ reserved attitude towards Heaney’s poetry may be, at least to some extent, understandable, the reasons for which, I hope, will become obvious in my analysis of his poetic language and style; the Slovene critics’ disinterestedness in Seamus Heaney, however, is hardly explicable, given the frequently-drawn social, political, and psychological parallels between the Irish and the Slovene such as their history of struggle for national identity and the preservation of the mother tongue under the “oppressor’s wrong”, as well as the sporadically hinted-at common human mentality, largely reflected in the national Irish-Slovene (cf. Bőll 1957 and Trstenjak 1992) inclination towards symptoms such as melancholy, guilt, lack of self-consciousness and fatalism, not to mention their share in alcohol-inspired macabre humour. All these traits have led the two nations along fairly convergent lines of political and humanist emancipation; therefore I believe that the cultivation and promotion of the bond between the Slovene and Irish literary traditions should be placed to the forefront of a joint pursuit. My itinerary through the Slovene receptionist history of Seamus Heaney sets out on an interesting paradox. The contemporary Slovene literary critics and poets, while invariably crediting W. B. Yeats with being one of the most influential Irish poets ever within the Slovene literary frame, somewhat inadvertently overlook Seamus Heaney’s worldwide-recognised succession to the Irish poetic throne. It is true that one has to always allow for the possibility of critical inclusion-exclusion treatment based on criteria and preferences other than the author’s general acclaim, but the fact is that Heaney’s relation to the tradition of Irish literature has never really become a point of debate among the Slovene-Irish-English literary critics. I have sought for reasons, but to no avail. Seamus Heaney remains a Slovene enigma of its own. Therefore, the only way of coming closer to this Irish Sphinx, “the shape with lion body and the head of a man”, is to look at some of the Heaney translations into Slovene. The answer to the riddle may reside, as in times antique, in the sculptor-translator who “well those passions read”, thanks to his self-appointed accreditation to the unique proximity of the original. Seamus Heaney has repeatedly admitted his indebtedness to W. B. Yeats. Apparently, what he most admires about Yeats and what he is determined to “wring from the acorn” is Yeats’ ability to ‘remake himself’ by rewriting or by turning to a completely new subject and treatment. And this is precisely what makes Heaney such an intriguing poet, especially from a translator’s point of view. Even though Heaney has kept certain recognisable poetic procedures ever since the publication of his first collection, Death of a Naturalist, in 1966, he has also demonstrated a persistent inclination towards change in language, style and subject matter. 2. Plough-child (Death of a Naturalist) With Death of a Naturalist, Heaney introduced himself as a poet “of rural Irish origins, writing of matters deeply rooted in Irish experience” (O’Donoghue 1994, 35) with an unquenching thirst for his ancestral sod and a directness articulated through a sharp eye for its particulars. The central features in this collection, as they bear on language and which every translator should bear in mind, are first a primitivism of subject and object; second, “there is a striking recurrence”, as observed by Bernard O’Donoghue, “of a contrast between hard and soft materials and surfaces which the language used reflects ..., a contrast between hard, consonantal English and soft, vocalic Irish ...” (ibid., 47). This seems to be perfectly in tune with the poet’s popular phrases “phonetics and feeling”, and “phonetic fantasy” - “the inextricability of sound and meaning” (ibid., 129). And third, there is Heaney's immaculate verbal representation of manual labour, with a meticulous sense of the smallest detail down to the last grain of wheat. Heaney, admittedly, is like a farmer who will never say: “From here to that tree over there”, but rather, “from here to that hornbeam, copper beach, birch…”. I propose, on this score, to take a look at a central poem from this collection, ‘Follower’, and juxtapose it with two separate Slovene translations. I have highlighted a few constitutive and/or translation-wise problematic expressions and phrases. Follower naslednik My father worked with a horse-plough, Moj oče je obdeloval prst s plugom, His shoulders globed like a full sail strung Z rameni, ki bila so kakor jadra Between the shafts and the furrow. Napeta vmes med brazdo in ojesi. The horses strained at his clicking tongue. Konja sta se napela, ko je tlesknil An expert. He would set the wing Z jezikom. Strokovnjak. Naravnal je boke And fit the bright steel-pointed sock. In svetli lemež z jekleno ostjo. The sod rolled over without breaking. Prst se je obračala, ne da bi se At the headrig, with a single pluck Zdrobila. In zadoščal je trzljaj headrig: left out Of reins, the sweating team turned round Uzd, da se je pôtni team obrnil And back into the land. His eye In zaoral nazaj. Njegovo oko Narrowed and angled at the ground, Se je zožilo in premerilo zemljišče, Mapping the furrow exactly. Da bi začrtalo natančno brazdo. I stumbled in his hobnailed wake, Jaz pa sem se opotekal v njegovi Fell sometimes on the polished sod; Močnó izruti brazdi, in včasih padel; Sometimes he rode me on his back Včasih pa jahal na njegovem hrbtu, Dipping and rising to his plod. Ki se je spuščal in dvigal med delom. I wanted to grow up and plough, Želel sem si odrasti in orati, To close one eye, stiffen my arm. Zatisniti oko, napeti mišice. All I ever did was follow Vse, kar sem kdaj naredil, je bilo, In his broad shadow round the farm. Da sem sledil njegovi senci po kmetiji. I was a nuisance, tripping, falling, Bil sem nadloga, ki nenehoma Yapping always. But today Skaklja in pada in blebeče. Danes It is my father who keeps stumbling Pa je moj oče tisti, ki se opoteka Behind me, and will not go away. Tik za menoj, in noče, noče proč. Translated by Boris A. Novak and Irena Zorko Novak naslednik Moj oče je oral s konjsko vprego, Jaz pa sem se spotikal po sledi njegovih okovanih čevljev, Njegova pleča so se izbočila kot polno jadro Včasih padel na sveže zorano prst. Med ročicami in brazdami. Včasih me je dvignil na hrbet, Konja sta se napela, ko je tlesknil z jezikom. Ki se je dvigal in spuščal nad njegovim napornim delom. Mojster. Pognal je wing: left out Želel sem si zrasti in orati, In jekleni lemež je zarezal v rušo. Če zamižim na eno oko, učvrstiti roke. Zemlja se je nepretrgoma obračala. Karkoli pa sem naredil, je bilo le sledenje Na ozarah je z enim samim trzljajem Njegovi široki senci okoli kmetije. Vajeti obrnil znojni par Bil sem stopicajoč, padajoč, vedno brbljajoč In ga usmeril na njivo. S strmim pogledom Nadležnež. Toda danes Je premeril zemljo, Je moj oče tisti, ki se kar naprej spotika Natančno izmerjajoč brazde. Za menoj in ne gre proč. Translated by Vera Pejović and Peter Semolič Considering Seamus Heaney’s proverbial verbal minuteness, one is anything but surprised to come across such specialised technical terms from rural argot as “shafts”, “wing”, “sock”, and “headrig”. They are not problematic for a translator into the Slovene because of there would be a lack of equivalents in the target language but rather because all these words are more or less monosyllabic, whereas in Slovene the corresponding terms amount to two or even three syllables. With this in mind, I want to refer to Boris A. Novak, a co-translator of Heaney’s poetry into the Slovene and the author of the essay in the book Močvirna dežela, who claims that English verses with exclusively monosyllabic words may in Slovene sound too harsh (Novak 1997, 72–3). Novak definitely has a point there; however, it has to be taken into account that Heaney, at the beginning of his poetic career, encouraged other Irish poets to roughen their poetic style. Therefore the enactment of the crudity of his style in the Slovene translation of Death of a Naturalist would only be a natural emulation of his poetic manifesto. With regard to Heaney’s extremely condensed, predominantly octosyllabic line, any Slovene translation, due to the inherent nature of the Slovene language, is doomed to not only violate the formal constraints of the original text, but also, and this is much more significant, blur the poet’s following the traditional Irish seven-to-eight-syllable pattern. One should not overlook Heaney’s art-long enterprise to achieve reconciliation between his Irish, intimately personal and nationalist affiliation, and the English literary and cultural traditions in which he was brought up. The poet elaborated on the amphibious nature of the writers like himself in his inaugural lecture The Redress of Poetry, delivered at Oxford University in 1989, when he became Oxford Professor of Poetry: “[All such writers] ... are caught on the forked stick of their love of the English language itself. Helplessly, they kiss the rod of the consciousness which subjugated them” (Heaney 1989, 9). Helplessly, indeed, yet at the same time, I dare say, helpfully, as confirmed in the opening of the poem ‘Terminus’: Two buckets were easier carried than one. I grew up in between. Heaney’s strongest weapon is sounded most loudly when he passes from the personal to the generic, from the parochial to the universal, which he achieves, somewhat paradoxically, by paying a tribute to the fundamentals of things. (In this respect Heaney seems to be governed by what his great master, Patrick Kavanagh, once said: “Parochialism is universal. It deals with the fundamentals.”) As far as the formal properties of the poem are concerned, neither of the Slovene texts reveals adherence to the form or structure of the poem. The second translation (Pejović & Semolič) is successful in providing comparatively exact designations for Heaney’s ploughing terminology. However, its formal looseness fails to represent the author’s striving to establish a link between the present and the past. The first translation (Novak & Novak) is, admittedly, more compatible in terms of form, but it lacks the realisation of some crucial textual properties, for instance the so-called deibidhe practice – “the elegant, but initially very rough and un-English, rhyming of a monosyllable with a disyllable stressed on a syllable other than the rhyming one” (O’Donoghue 1994, 31) - such as “wing/breaking”, “plough/furrow” - which again has a parallel in Yeats. Moreover, the translation does not pay adequate respect to the playfulness of Heaney's jargon, especially where he employs the many nautical allusions such as the father's shoulders which are like the billowing of a ship, the “sod” rolling over “without breaking” (like a wave), the child stumbling “in his wake”, and “dipping and rising” on his father's back, and “[M]apping the furrow”, the latter being a term used in navigating a ship. The intent of the speaker is not to show the farmer as simple but rather as one who is highly skilled, like one capable of navigating a ship. All these features no doubt aspire to raise the poem above the standards of typical rural poetry or the kind of poetry which is expressive of mere nostalgic feelings for lost childhood. . Watch-child of wells (Death of a Naturalist) The next poem, ‘Personal Helicon’, which happens to be the last poem in the same collection, presents Heaneyin a slightlydifferent lightand atthe sametimepavesthe wayfor the subsequent book called A Door into the Dark. Heaney, for that matter, has a curious habit of ending “one collection of his work with a piece which, in effect, will serve as a sort of ‘manifesto’ for the collection to follow” (Murphy 1996, 20). In the ‘Personal Helicon’ poem, which incidentally draws on the mountain and home of the Muses in Greece and location of the two springs which were believed by the Ancient Greeks to be the source of poetic inspiration, Heaney’s commitment to his rural Irish ancestry tentatively gives way to a/the poet’s vocation and the interplay between his public and private obligations. In this poem, Heaney the public man assumes the position of an adult, while his privacy is symbolised by the child-role and his prying into the local wells in search of knowledge. Heaney’s pursuit of a dialogue between the two worlds of responsibility is reflected in the effective use of the so-called “mixed style”, which in his case means a combined mobilisation of grown-up and infant linguistic behaviour. Personal Helicon Osebni Helikon for Michael Longley Za Michaela Langleyja As a child, they could not keep me from wells Kot deček sem bil mahnjen na studence, And old pumps and buckets and windlasses. Starinske škripce, vedra iz vodnjaka, I loved the dark drop, the trapped sky, the smells Kjer je nebo ujeto, vlaga sence Of waterweed, fungus and dank moss. Pa moči plesen in mehkobo maha. One, in a brickyard, with a rotted board top. V opekarni je imel vodnjak I savoured the rich crash when a bucket Rjaveč pokrov. Poskusil sem bogat Plummeted down at the end of a rope. Zven vedra, potopljenega v mrak, So deep you saw no reflection in it. Tako globok, da ne dogledaš dna. A shallow one under a dry stone ditch Plitev izvir je izpod kamenite Fructified like an aquarium. Globeli obrodil kakor vsak akvarij. When you dragged out long roots from the soft mulch Ko si iz glena spulil korenine, A white face hovered over the bottom. Se je nad tlemi bel obraz pojavil. Others had echoes, gave back your own call Spet drugi so ti vračali odmev, With a clean new music in it. And one Ki je zvenel kot čista, nova glasba. Was scaresome, for there, out of ferns and tall In bil je nek strašljiv vodnjak, poln praproti, Foxgloves, a rat slapped across my reflection. Kjer je čez moj odsev švistnila podgana. Now, to pry into roots, to finger slime, A brskati po mulju, koreninah, To stare, big-eyed Narcissus, into some spring Strmeti kot Narcis v dno studenca, Is beneath all adult dignity. I rhyme Je pod odraslim dostojanstvom. Rimam, To see myself, to set the darkness echoing. Da vidim sebe, da odmeva senca. Translated by Boris A. Novak and Irena Zorko Novak Osebni Helikon Kot otroka me niso mogli spraviti proč od vodnjakov Drugi so odmevali, ti vračali tvoj lastni klic In starih črpalk z vedri in škripci. S čisto novo glasbo v njem. In eden Ljubil sem skrivnostna poklopna vrata, ujeto nebo, Je bil grozljiv, izmed praproti in dolgih vonje po Vodni travi, gobi in razmočenem mahu. Naprstecev je podgana švignila čez moj odsev. Eden, v opekarni, z nagnitim pokrovom. Zdaj je vtikanje nosu v korenine, bezanje po mulju, Okusil sem slast močnega treska, ko je vedro Ogledovanje velikookega Narcisa v kakem tolmunu Na koncu vrvi navpično padlo. Pod častjo odraslemu. Rimam, Tako globoko, da nisi videl nobenega odseva v njem. Da vidim sebe, da sprožim temačno odmevanje. Eden, plitev po izsušenim kamnitim koritom, Je bil plodno polje kot vsak akvarij. Ko si potegnil dolge korenine iz mehke zemlje, Je bel obraz oblebdel nad dnom. Translated by Vera Pejović in Peter Semolič It is pretty obvious that the poet’s standard concern with the relations between the Irish and English literary traditions has been withheld at this point. This is mainly indicated by his sparing use of alliteration (Heaney’s habitual device, modelled upon the old Germanic rhetoric); instead, more emphasis is laid on the music of the vowels. Furthermore, the poem, which opens with “the kind of matter-of-fact tone”, quickly shifts (in the third line) to the child’s voice with a “succession of nouns and simple adjectives” (all quotes from Parker 1994, 75). The child’s “over-personal” grammar - “[S]o deep you saw no reflection in it”, “[W]hen you dragged out long roots”, “[O]thers had echoes, gave back your own call” - is effectively recreated in both Slovene translations. However, the poem's final stanza, which “speaks of transition, triumph, the growth of a poet's mind” (idem), has been adequately rendered only in the Novak & Novak translation. The same applies to the formulaic phrase “[I]s beneath all adult dignity”, which happens to be “the school­English-lesson type of cliché known as 'command of English'” (O'Donoghue 1994, 41). The infinitival clauses “to pry into roots”, “to finger slime” and “to stare...into some spring” are untypical of a child's speech both in English and Slovene, hence the Pejović & Semolič translation, due to its gerundial rendition, falls short of a felicitous contrast. The very last sentence, “I rhyme/ To see myself, to set the darkness echoing” is of crucial importance here because, in support of Heaney's statement - "All I see is a door into the dark" - it sets the atmosphere of his next poetry collection, Door into the Dark. The Novak team has been most unfortunate at this point in translating “the darkness” as “senca” (BT: shadow), which is inconsistent with the title of the subsequent chapter in the book called Vrata v temo (the translators’ literal translation of Heaney’s title). 4. nothing quiet on the northern front ‘Punishment’, first published separately as part of the Bog Poems (1975), but later included in the collection North (1975), is one of Heaney’s persistently political poems, inspired by his reading of the book The Bog People: Iron Age Man Preserved, written by the Danish archaeologist P. V. Glob (1969). This particular poem, which “reports on the excavations of bodies of Iron Age people buried in bogs in north-western Europe, particularly in Denmark and Ireland …, revived his own childhood images of bog land and it provided him with symbols and a mythical background enabling him to put the contemporary political scene in a wider historical and cultural perspective” (Verdonk 1993, 1141). Punishment Kazen Kazen I can feel the tug Lahko začutim trzanje Čutim teg vrvi of the halter at the nape povodca na njenem na zadnjem delu njenega of her neck, the wind tilniku in veter vratu, veter on her naked front. na njenem golem čelu. v njenih golih grudih. It blows her nipples Razpiha njene bradavice Zburja bradavice to amber beads, v jantarne jagode v jantarjeve bisere, it shakes the frail rigging in stresa rahlo opravo stresa krhki opaž of her ribs. na njenih rebrih. iz njenih reber. I can see her drowned Lahko vidim njeno potopljeno Vidim to telo, body in the bog, truplo v močvirju, ki tone v šotno barje, the weighing stone, obtežilni kamen, mlinski kamen, the floating rods and boughs. plavajoče protje in vejevje. plavne veje in protje. Under which at first ki je pod njim najprej Ki pod njim bila je she was a barked sapling bila olupljena mladika, sprva olupljena mladika, that is dug up izkopana hrastova srž, izkopana kot oak-bone, brain-firkin: posoda za možgane: stržen, možganska srž: her shaved head njena pobrita glava njena obrita glava like a stubble of black corn, kot strnišče črnega žita, kot strnišče črne rži, her blindfold a soiled bandage, trak čez oči umazana preveza, preveza umazan trak, her noose a ring njena zanka prstan, zanka prstan to store ki hrani v bran the memories of love. spomine na ljubezen. spomina na ljubezen. Little adulteress, Mala prešuštnica, Mala prešuštnica, before they punished you preden so te kaznovali, preden so te kaznovali you were flaxen-haired, si bila podhranjena, si bila lanenih las, undernourished, and your lanenih las, in tvoj kot smola podhranjena, tvoj tar-black face was beautiful. črn obraz je bil lep. smolnat črn obraz je bil prelep. My poor scapegoat, Moj ubogi grešni kozel, Ubogi grešni kozel,  For a thorough and inspiring interpretation of this poem i recommend Peter Verdonk’s study Poetry and public life: a contextualized reading of Seamus Heaney’s ‘Punishment’ (in Verdonk 3, -33). 284 uroš Mozetič The Rack-Brain Pencil-Push of hurt-in-hiding: Translating the Poetry of Seamus Heaney into Slovene I almost love you malone te ljubim, skorajda te ljubim, but would have cast, I know, vendar bi tudi jaz, vem, a bi vrgel, vem, the stones of silence. vrgel kamenje tišine. svoj kamen molka. I am the artful voyeur Jaz sem zvit voyeur Sem prekanjeni voyeur of your brain’s exposed razkritih in potemnelih razkrinkanih stemnelih and darkened combs, glavnikov tvojih možganov, gub tvojih možganov, your muscles’ webbing tkanine tvojih mišic tvojih mišičnatih vlaken and all your numbered bones: in vseh tvojih preštetih kosti: in preštetih ti kosti: I who have stood dumb jaz, ki sem nemo stal, Jaz ki sem obstal molče, when your betraying sisters, ko so tvoje izdajalske sestre, ko tvoje verolomne sestre cauled in tar, povaljane v smoli, so povaljane v katranu wept by the railings, jokale ob ograji, jokale ob ograji, who would connive ki sem zmožen dajati potuho ki lahko delim in civilized outrage s civiliziranim ogorčenjem, civiliziran gnus, yet understand the exact vendar razumem to natančno a razumem to eksaktno and tribal, intimate revenge. in plemensko, intimno maščevanje. in plemensko, intimno povračilo. Translated by Boris A. Novak Translated by and Irena Zorko Novak Uroš Mozetič Heaney, in fact, went so far as to travel up to Denmark to take a look at the excavations presented at the museum, and was especially drawn by the image of “a young woman who had likely been shorn, stripped, killed, and thrown into the bog as a punishment for adultery” (Murphy 1996, 42). The analogy made is that to the North-Ireland women who befriended British soldiers, and were punished by being shorn, cauled in tar, feathered and chained to railings. This sexual-politic allegory, evoking a number of biblical elements (“scapegoat” of Leviticus, taking on the sins of the tribe and driven into the wilderness; the girl’s “numbered bones” referred to in the Psalms and later on in Heaney’s opus re-enacted in the poem ‘Seeing Things’), takes us back to Apostle Peter’s failure to lend support in the time of need. The essential interpretative and translation problem of this poem lies in the poet’s employment of a ‘middle voice’, which negotiates “with several languages and views of the world, takes its stand at different points according to the requirements of its particular subject” (O’Donoghue 1994, 129), and simultaneously strikes a boundary between the historical and modern linguistic representations of the same object. For a translator, the poem is especially problematic at two levels: at the level of sound and that of lexicon. Instead of end-rhymes Heaney has chosen to organise the poem by internal sound patterns in the form of alliteration, so characteristic of the staple verse line of Anglo-Saxon poetry. Consequently, he creates alliterative pairs like “blows - beads”, “rigging - ribs”, “body - bog”; alliterative phrases like “stubble of black corn”, “blindfold a soiled bandage”, “the stones of silence”, not to mention such ingeniously cohesive-alliterating patterning as can be spotted in the first stanza: “the halter at the nape/of her neck.../on her naked front”. The Novak & Novak translation has not been particularly successful in rendering these instances of sound effectiveness, except for, perhaps, the well-chosen phrase “jantarne jagode”. In terms of lexicon, we can once again notice a variety of features which considerably expand the poem’s significance. As observed by Peter Verdonk, the Nordic associations (like “amber beads”, “barked sapling”, “oak-bone”, “brain-firkin”, and “stubble of black corn”) “are also accentuated by the poet’s preference for vocabulary of Anglo-Saxon origin. Nearly all the concrete and earthly imagery is rooted in the Germanic core of the English language, while a minority of words stemming from its French or Latin influx such as “connive”, “civilized”, “exact”, “intimate”, “revenge”, etc. are employed to refer to the abstractions related to the ambivalent attitude the poet takes in the last stanza” (Verdonk 1993, 128-9). Furthermore, in this poem Heaney makes use of another stylistic device, kenning, a conventional metaphoric name for something, used especially in Old Norse and Old English poetry, here predominantly used with reference to the parts of the girl’s body: “amber beads”, “barked sapling”, “oak-bone”, “brain-firkin”. Every translator into Slovene, even if aware of such lexical discrimination, is in a serious quandary here. The option to rely on such international foreign words as konivenca for “connivance”, civiliziran for “civilized”, eksakten for “exact”, intimen for “intimate”, and revanša for “revenge” is, poetically speaking, for the most part not a very good solution. Alternatively, drawing on the former Yugoslav oppressor’s, i.e. Serbian lexicon, because the lexical shift in the Heaney text may have been prompted by the desire to strike a contrast between the Norman and Anglo-Saxon linguistic control, and hence creating something like: … koji bi povlađivao u civilizovanom pogrdu a shvatio tačno određenu i plemensku, prisnu osvetu2 is tempting but runs the risk of sounding politically incorrect, if not provocative. So what we are left with (except for the collocation “civiliziranim ogorčenjem” in the final stanza) is a politically, historically and linguistically unmarked Slovene translation of the poem which depends for its vitality on the essentially politically, historically and linguistically marked expression. . new vistas A radically different type of poetic vision and experience is presented in the collection Seeing Things, published in 1991. I have chosen an excerpt from the title poem to point out some of Heaney’s linguistic and stylistic devices, not entirely new but this time employed with a slightly different and often amazingly elegant turn. This collection proves that Heaney’s poetry is indeed “an art that knows its mind”, as he himself once referred to it. Bernard O’Donoghue contends that “[S]eeing Things sets itself an extremely ambitious programme of mediations: between this world and the next, between youth and age, between the terrestrial and extra-terrestrial” (O’Donoghue 1994, 119–20), for the purpose of which he introduces certain rhetorical and grammatical procedures to promptly articulate his central notion of “unsayability”. (The very notion is embedded already in the title, implying simultaneously two mutually exclusive human faculties: that of getting to the root of the matter and that of mere imagination/hallucination.) If in his previous collections Heaney has been reasonably confident of his choice of words and their combinations, he now seems to be somewhat at a loss for the “right” expression. The reason, of course, is not to be sought in the limitations of the author’s own poetic eloquence, but rather in the nature of the world(s) he is describing. Physical and spiritual transience, the complex relationship between the marvellous and the actual, between the material and the transcendental are not easily put into words. In addition to that, this is also the period of Heaney’s struggling to come to terms with the death of both his parents (mother 1984, father 1986). So how does the poet’s condition as well as his search for the security of a new meaning manifest itself in the linguistic-stylistic apparatus of these poems? Seeing Things Videnje stvari I. I. Inishbofin on a Sunday morning. Inishbofin v nedeljskem jutru. Sunlight, turfsmoke, seagulls, boatslip, diesel. Sonce, šotni dim, galebi, drsenje ladij, diesel. One by one we were being handed down Drugega za drugim so nas posajali Into a boat that dipped and shilly-shallied v čoln, ki se je omahovaje vsakokrat Scaresomely every time. We sat tight preplašeno ugrezal. Sedeli smo otrplo On short cross-benches, in nervous twos and threes, na prečnih klopeh, nervozne dvojice, trojice, Obedient, newly close, nobody speaking poslušni, prvič skupaj, molčeči vsi Except the boatman, as the gunwales sank razen čolnarjev, ko so boki tonili And seemed they might ship water any minute. In se je zdelo, da bodo vsak hip zajeli vodo. The sea was very calm but even so, Morje je bilo zelo spokojno, pa vendar me je, When the engine kicked and our ferryman ko je stroj sunil in se je naš krmar, Swayed for balance, reaching for the tiller, loveč ravnotežje, zazibal in segel po krmilu, I panicked at the shiftiness and heft napolnjevala s strahom nezanesljivost in teža Of the craft itself. What guaranteed us- same ladje. Kar nam je jamčilo- That quick response and buoyancy and swim- tisti nagel odziv in vzgon in plovnost- Kept me in agony. All the time me je mučilo. Ves čas As we went sailing evenly across naše gladke plovbe nad globoko, The deep, still, seeable-down-into water, mirno, daleč navzdol vidno vodo je bilo, It was as if I looked from another boat kot da gledam iz nekega drugega čolna, Sailing through air, far up, and could see ki plove skozi zrak, visoko zgoraj, in vidim, How riskily we fared into the morning, kako tvegano potujemo skoz jutro And loved in vain our bare, bowed, numbered heads. in zaman ljubim naše gole, sklonjene, štete glave. Translated by Veno Taufer (1995) In the first place, we can observe a “progressive reducing of activeness in verbs” and Heaney’s much-cherished tendency “to form verbs from nouns by simple conversion without inflection: the process called ‘zero derivation’” (O’Donoghue 1994, 130). The second line, however, strikes a note of imitating the Yeatsian list of trochees: “Sunlight, turfsmoke, seagulls, boatslip, diesel”, as possibly an embodiment of “the idea of steadying as a ‘guarantee’ in the face of transience” (ibid., 133). Needless to say, the metric looseness of the translation fails to represent this idea. Third, the employment of the so-called “negativing prefixes”3 elsewhere in the collection such as “undrowned”, “undead”, “unfurtive” reminds us of the liminal (relating to the point or threshold beyond which a sensation becomes too faint to be experienced) essence of language, and its function as mediator. Fourth, Heaney’s introduction of and variations on compound lexical items such as “seeable-down-into-water”, to a large extent lost on the Slovene translation, may be understood as a deficiency of language “to express what is required” (idem). The very last collocation in the poem, “numbered heads”, an allusion to the Psalms (22: 16–17) - …they pierced my hands and my feet. I may tell all my bones: they look and stare upon me” - establishes the poem's link with the ultimate salvation. The grammatical mistranslation of the word “numbered” as “štete”, which is as an inchoate adjective, rather than “preštete”, may not, God willing, prevent the Slovene reader from “seeing things”. . Heritage and homage Every poem has its textual as well as intertextual habitation. To this end, my final case, an excerpt from the poem ‘On His Work in the English Tongue’, draws on Heaney’s latest poetry collection, Electric Light (2001). This volume possesses many of the usual themes and styles, which altogether betrays an unmistakable stroke of Heaney’s and can be summed up as “the appreciation of word and phrase, the love for the pastoral, for mythic and natural presence, for the quotidian, and for the political significance of border and tribe” (Holdridge 2001). The book, in the poet’s own words, is divided “into a section of the rather more elegiac poems, with all the other poems in a separate section” (Heaney 2001, 25). The “elegiac” section comprises poems written for recently deceased friends, among them Heaney’s fellow poets Ted Hughes, Joseph Brodsky and Zbigniew Herbert. These are poems that “might seem to call into question the pertinence of ‘the ground of your own understanding’ in the face of mortality and impermanence” (O’Grady 2001). Heaney’s preoccupation with the death of his peers in this volume is further upheld in the interview on the occasion of his visit to Portugal in May 2001, to participate in the colloquium Identities: a European Poets’ Meeting, where he says: “I have a couple of subjects, but they are more or less political subjects, and I think that the political moment, the political urgency is past for me. This is more the moment of mortality ...” (Heaney 2001, 26). In order to duly commemorate the life and work of his fellow-poets, Heaney resorts to the means which seem to be fairly appropriate to the case in point - meta-language and intertextuality. The ultimate effectiveness is, consequently, arrived at through the simulation of the form and the poetry-binding spirit like in his ‘Audenesque’ poem, written in the memory of Joseph Brodsky : “Joseph, yes, you know the beat./ Wystan Auden’s metric feet/ Marched 3 Curiously, and perhaps inappropriately in the light of the occassion, Heaney employed this rhetorical device in his recent poetry-address to the newly accessed states to the european union, which took place in Phoenix Park in Dublin,  May 00: “… So on a day when newcomers appear/ Let it be a homecoming and let us speak/ the unstrange word, as it behoves us here, …” (my emphasis). to it, unstressed and stressed,/ Laying William Yeats to rest.” The poem, which adopts the same stanza and metric form as the third and last part of Auden's elegy ‘In Memory of W. B. Yeats’, alludes to Brodsky's life-long fascination with Auden, at the same time evoking and confirming Yeats’ spectrum of “each age /unwinding/ the thread another age had wound …all things dying each other’s life, living each other’s death” (Yeats 1925, 183). Alternatively, Heaney connects himself to the common poetic heritage by means of employing necessary lexical-phonetic properties such as wordplay, his sometimes painfully popular device, at least from the translator’s point of view, as illustrated below with an excerpt from the poem ‘On His Work in the English tongue’: On His Work in the English Tongue O njegovem delu v angleškem jeziku in memory of Ted Hughes v spomin Tedu Hughesu 1 Post-this, post-that, post-the-other, yet in the end Posto-to, post-tisto, post-ostalo, na koncu pa Not past a thing. Not understanding, or telling postaja ista. Mimo ne uvida ne povedi Or forgiveness. ne odpuščanja. But often past oneself, A pogosto mimo sebe, Pounded like a shore by the roller griefs stolčen kot obala od valovja bolečine In language that can still knock language sideways. v jeziku , ki še vedno zna zadeti jezik z boka. … 5 Soul has its scruples. Things not to be said. Duša ima svoje zadržke. Stvari, ki jih ne gre izreči. Things for keeping, that can keep the small-hours gaze Stvari, ki se jih zadrži, ki zadržijo zrenje v ranih urah Open and steady. Things for the aye of God neprikrito in na preži. Stvari za O.K.(o) Boga And for poetry. Which is, as Miłosz says, in poezijo. Kar je, kot bi rekel Miłosz, ‘A dividend from ourselves,‘ a tribute paid ‘dividenda od nas samih’, davek, ki smo ga plačali By what we have been true to. A thing allowed. s tem, da smo ostali zvesti. Dopustna stvar. Translated by Uroš Mozetič Here the lexical-phonetic pun “post-past”, which purports to designateTed Hughes’ progression from one poetic state to another, is tied with the poet’s essentially humanist position: Not past “understanding,/ or telling/ Or forgiveness”. There are, naturally, a variety of reasons preventing the Slovene translator from faithfully recreating the pun-chain, however, a sort of compensation may still be arrived at. To that effect, I have chosen to make use of the phonological/lexical wordplay in Slovene: post/postaja. The latter word, in back translation, felicitously corresponds to the word station, which alludes to Heaney’s poetry collection Station Island (1984). This collection namely “takes its basic conceit from the tradition of pilgrimage literature” (Murphy 1996, 60), … [W]ith its stress on the bond between the living and the dead, its emphasis on the path of renunciation and sacrifice …” (Parker 1994, 182). There is a very short step from here to Ted Hughes, for I do not believe that Heaney is after some simple, traditional elegy, which would tell us about the deceased one what we always knew but were not sure of. Rather, we are confronted with an unprecedented reforming of a tombstone scripture which the R.I.P.-resident might be reluctant to solicit for, notwithstanding the kindness and respect from the fellow-poet and colleague. A great poet, when he dies, according to Auden, turns into his own work, becomes an object of admiration. The poet’s life thus falls into oblivion, not because it would be of no significance but because, as far as his readers are concerned, there is no life at stake any more. And this is where Heaney comes in. He wants to present us with a poet in flesh, for better or worse, a man like any one of us, full of contradictions within as well as without, someone who was all his life torn between his body and soul (incidentally the title of another Heaney poem), but nevertheless or rather because of it managed to preserve the ability to indulge in “passive suffering”. In the last section of the poem Heaney brings the poem to its climax by means of referring to his Polish master Czesław Miłosz. On this account he produces a triple word-play cluster: “Things for keeping, that can keep…/ Things for the aye of God …/a tribute paid by what we have been true to” (my emphasis). In the first part, the play on words is enacted by the different semantic figuration of the verb “keep”; in the second instance, the play is substantiated by the archaic or Scottish dialectal “aye”, meaning “yes”, that is approval; and last, the “tribute” may be a gift or statement made in acknowledgement, gratitude or admiration, or (in feudal society) a payment rendered by a vassal to his lord. Since the Slovene term “tribut” renders only ‘levying taxes’ by a feudal lord, I have chosen to replace the original “tribute” by the Slovene word “davek” (“tax”), so as to stress the poets’ sacrificial commitment to their common guilt. . Conclusion These are only some of the problems of translating the poetry of Seamus Heaney into Slovene or, put more daringly, of translating Seamus Heaney language-wise. Presumably, one does not need to have a command of all the languages of the world to sense the essential un-translatability of Heaney’s poetic voice. Understanding and rendering his poetry depends for its effect on the reader’s ability to perceive the origins of the Irish-English political, historic, and cultural confrontation, which manifest themselves in the specific designation of the choice of Heaney’s utterance. Therefore, our assumption is that a comparatively accurate translation of Heaney’s poetry would be feasible only if a target language had been, in the history of its development, to some extent exposed to a socio-linguistic trial similar to that of the Irish. However, this is merely a precondition for coming to terms with the complexity of the author’s expression. What is almost equally required between the two parties is a certain felicity of linguistic proximity. And here the Slovene language lies fallow. In terms of political and cultural history, the Slovene people may indeed have much in common with the Irish, but in terms of language there appears to be a set of insurmountable difficulties. Being a member of the Slavic family, the Slovene language possesses certain natural traits inherently different from those of the Irish-English vernacular. In addition to those that have been dealt with in this paper, there are some other unequivocal issues which will have to be tackled in the on-going discussion of the status of Heaney’s poetry in a foreign-language code: in particular, the poet’s arbitrary employment of word-formation rhetoric as part of his poetic style; his use of the nationalist and individual-specific vocabulary; and the significance of his vocation for the promotion of other poetic manifestations, either within the context of their own cultural traditions or with reference to their role in the cultural environment of the expanding European Union. The latter, especially, seems to be bound to exercise a decisive effect on the common prosperity of the newly gathered nations. Bibliography Bőll, H. 1995. Irski dnevnik. Prev. V. Klabus. Zbirka S poti. Ljubljana: Cankarjeva založba. Heaney, S. 1989. The Redress of Poetry. An Inaugural Lecture delivered before the University of Oxford on 24 October 1989. Oxford: Clarendon Press. – – –. 1998. Opened Ground. Poems 1966 – 1996. London: Faber and Faber. – – –. 2001. Electric Light. London: Faber and Faber. – – –. 2001. On Elegies, Eclogues, Translations, Transfusions: an interview with Seamus Heaney (R.C. Homem). The European English Messenger X/2: 24-30. – – –. 2004. Beacons at Bealtaine (Phoenix Park, May Day, 2004). http://www.drrnwbb.com/blog/ (accessed 10 May 2004) Holdridge, J. 2001. Electric Light – By Seamus Heaney. Sunday Business Post, August 22. http://archives.tcm.ie/ businesspost/2001/08/22/story303870.asp (accessed 23 April 2004) Murphy, A. 1996. Seamus Heaney. Writers and Their Work. Plymouth, U.K.: Northcote House. Novak, B.A., and I.Z. Novak, trans. 1997. Močvirna dežela. Radovljica: Didakta. Novak, B.A. 1997. Seamus Heaney, pesnik osebnega in kolektivnega spomina. In Novak and Novak, 69–73. O’Donoghue, B. 1994. Seamus Heaney and the Language of Poetry. Hemel Hempstead: Harvester Wheatsheaf. O’Grady, T. 2001. Into, Out of Heaney’s Known World. [Originally published, in a slightly different form, in The Boston Sunday Globe, May 27, 2001] http://omega.cc.umb.edu/~irish/electric_light.htm (accessed 9 January 2003) Parker, M. 1994. Seamus Heaney. The Making of the Poet. Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire, and London: Macmillan. Pejović, V., and P. Semolič, trans. 1992. Seamus Heaney: pesmi. Razgledi, 10. januarja, 29. Taufer, V., trans. 1995. Letošnji dobitnik Nobelove nagrade za književnost. Delo (Književni listi), 19. oktobra, 16. Verdonk, P., ed. 1993. Twentieth-Century Poetry. From Text to Context. Interface. London and New York: Routledge. Trstenjak, A. 1992. Misli o slovenskem človeku. Ljubljana: Založba Mihelač. Yeats, W.B. 1956. A Vision. New York: Macmillan. Tomaž Onič university of Maribor Faculty of education, Department of english and american Studies Translating Recurrences in Pinter’s Plays Summary Certain elements of language often repeat in all genres and at all levels of formality, whether spoken or written. This phenomenon, either premeditated or applied intuitively, always has a reason, despite the fact that the speaker (or writer) is not necessarily aware of it. A re-appearance of a certain word or word cluster is called recurrence. According to various definitions, it can be the direct repetition of a textual element which has appeared before in the text, the re-appearance of a certain word in the form of a different part of speech, or the repetition of a word cluster in which at least some elements of the original sentence repeat in the same or similar form. The term repetition is not used because only seldom is a repetition of a part of a text a real repetition, carrying exactly the same meaning potential of the repeated phrase as did its first appearance. This element of language is often disregarded in translation. It’s importance is even greater in texts where recurrences are common or, as in Pinter’s plays, they represent one of the important elements of the author’s style. Hopefully, this paper will raise awareness of how important it is to consider this element in translation. Key words: translation, drama, drama translation, recurrence, Harold Pinter Prevajanje ponovnih pojavitev v Pinterjevih dramah Povzetek Ponavljanje nekaterih jezikovnih elementov je v večji ali manjši meri prisotno v vsakem besedilu, ne glede na njegovo zvrst, stopnjo formalnosti ali druge karakteristike. Avtor lahko ta fenomen uporablja z namenom, da doseže določene učinke na sprejemnika, ali pa naključno, vendar ponovitve v vsakem primeru vplivajo na celostno podobo besedila. onovna pojavitev (angl. recurrence) je v strokovni literaturi najpogosteje definirana bodisi kot ponovitev nekega dela besedila v nespremenjeni obliki, lahko gre za ponovitev določene besede s spremembo besedne vrste, ali pa se ponovno pojavi besedni sklop, v katerem se vsaj nekaj elementov ponovi v enaki ali nekoliko spremenjeni obliki. Izraz ponovitev se za omenjeni jezikovni pojav ne uporablja, saj so le redke ponovne pojavitve besed ali besednih sklopov prave ponovitve z enakim pomenskim potencialom. Ponovne pojavitve so v prevajalski praksi pogosto prezrte. Še posebej pomembno jih je ohranjati v besedilih, kjer so le-te pogoste, ter v primerih, ko predstavljajo pomemben gradnik avtorjevega sloga. To utemeljuje in s primeri ilustrira tudi pričujoči članek. Ključne besede: prevajanje, drama, dramski prevod, ponovna pojavitev, Harold Pinter Translating Recurrences in Pinter’s Plays 1. Introduction In poetic as well as common every day language certain parts of text or speech often appear more than once. This phenomenon may be either premeditated or applied randomly as a result of intuition. In both cases, it produces a certain potential effect and conveys the conscious or subconscious intention of the speaker. 2. Definition of recurrence Beaugrande and Dressler (1988, 54) define recurrence as a direct repetition of a textual element which has appeared before in the text. They do not call it repetition because, according to Beaugrande (1991, 18), only seldom is the repetition of part of text a real repetition. Such absolute recurrence, as he calls it, would have to carry exactly the same meaning potential of the repeated phrase as did its first appearance. In most cases, that does not happen, as it is usually the very intention of the speaker that causes the recurrence: Saying the same thing over again normally carries a context-sensitive message, such as approval, insistence, anxiety, doubt, surprise, or irony. /…/ thus, recurrence is typically an instance of “incremental recursion”, where the repeated event adds to the value of the original (Beaugrande 1991, 18). Green (1968, 22), too, is sceptical about the reason for absolute recurrences. She believes that the sentence in which the same thing is said twice in the exactly same way (e.g. John ran home and John ran home) is senseless and unacceptable as it lowers the level of informativeness. A less strict variation of recurrence is partial recurrence, defined by Beaugrande and Dressler (1988, 54–5) as the re-appearance of a certain word in the form of a different part of speech. As such, it is similar to polyptoton, a figure of speech that is defined as “repetition of the same word in various inflected forms” (Kos 1987, 185). In a later article, Beaugrande (1991) defines recurrence as the repetition of a word cluster that does not repeat as a whole; not even all the elements need to repeat. It suffices that some elements of the original sentence repeat in the same or a sufficiently similar form. Some partial recurrences originate in language system functions and are random; others appear as a result of the writer’s or speaker’s intention: Some language elements recur simply because they are frequent in the language repertory and form small or closed sets of useful options, e.g., articles, conjunctions, and prepositions. Other elements recur deliberately because the speaker wishes to point back to some previous utterance(s), and are noticeable because they are much less frequent or constrained within small sets (Beaugrande 1991, 19). Recurrences can appear on various levels of the text. Numerous authors, e.g. Harris 1952, Van Dijk 1969, Weinrich 1972, and others, deal with special types of recurrence, but the most frequent is lexical recurrence where a word or a cluster of words is repeated. This type is quite easy to notice as it appears on the textual level; it is enough to read or hear the text to perceive it. This article mostly deals with the latter type of recurrence because it applies directly to translation analysis. . Pinter’s recurrences The frequency of recurrences in plays by Harold Pinter proves that they are an important element of his style (see Hribar 2004, 197). Therefore it is vital that as many as possible are preserved in translation. Sometimes this is a demanding task, especially because recurrences cannot be treated separately from other elements in the text. It often happens that rhythm, length of words, register, rhyme and similar elements need to be considered simultaneously. In practice the ideal situation, when all the characteristics of the original text are incorporated in the translation, seldom exists. More frequently the translator is forced to sacrifice one or more layers of the original, and it is important that those partially or completely omitted should be those which harm the translation the least. Needless to say, to be able to do that, the translator must be well acquainted with the original text. What is more, he or she must be able and willing to spend the time and energy to do this. Pinter’s characters sometimes repeat whole phrases or sentences, sometimes with slight changes, which almost always indicate a change in the speaker’s intention. The repeated passage either follows its first appearance closely, or can be delayed for a few lines – or sometimes pages. In general, the most noticeable recurrences for the audience are those which consist of many repetitions, contain unusual words or phrases attracting our attention, or consist of closely repeated passages. So, it is most important for at least some of these to be preserved in translation. Below, this point is illustrated with an excerpt from Pinter’s The Caretaker and its translation by Janko Moder. As the comparison shows, some of the recurrences have been at least partly preserved, but many others have simply been lost during the process of translation. This example from the beginning of the play is a dialogue between Davies, a homeless tramp, and Aston, a slightly mentally retarded craftsman, who feels sorry for the tramp and takes him home. The audience learns what has happened before the play started. Davies talks a lot, trying to explain to Aston or rather persuade him of the cause of an incident at a café: DAVIES. Comes up to me, parks a bucket of rubbish at me tells me to take it out the back. It’s not my job to take out the bucket! They got a boy there for taking out the bucket. I wasn’t engaged to take out buckets. My job’s cleaning the floor, cleaning up the tables, doing a bit The phrase to take out the bucket, with its grammatical structure slightly varied, appears five times, four of those times in one sole utterance. This repetition is not coincidental. It brings out Davies’s urge to divert Aston’s thoughts from exploring what the real conflict was about. Davies gives him no time to think or reply but keeps talking. The more he talks about taking out the bucket, the more he makes Aston and the audience doubt his story. of washing-up, nothing to do with taking out buckets! ASTON. Uh. He crosses down right, to get the electric toaster. DAVIES (following). Yes, well say I had! Even if I had! Even if I was supposed to take out the bucket, who was this git to come up and give me orders? /…/ (Pinter 1977, 18) DAVIES. Stopi k meni, postavi predme kanto za smeti in mi reče, nej jo odnesem. Ni moja stvar nosit kante ven! Za to imajo druzga. Nisem bil vzet, da bi nosil ven kante. Jaz sem za ribanje po tleh, za pospravljanje z miz, mejčkeno za pomivanje, niti slučajno pa ne za odnašanje smeti! ASTON. Saj. Odide na desno v ospredje po pražilnik. DAVIES (raca za njim). No, pa recimo, da bi bil! Tudi če bi bil! Tudi če bi bil vzet za kante, ampak kje je tisti bog, ki lahko stopi predme in mi ukaže. /…/ (Pinter 1990, 4) The linguistic packet, taking out the bucket, also replicates the task package for Davies. His contention is that tasks are divided, that taking out the bucket is a discrete task unit – one which does not fall into his job description. His repetitions contain a funny mixture of certainty and uncertainty about whether taking out buckets might not, after all, be his task. At the same time, the recurring phrase reveals a good portion of the speaker’s contempt for this task assignment, which he obviously considers inferior. A deeper meaning of this part of the text is also strongly supported by the carefully polished sound effects of several consecutive recurrences. In the Slovene translation the repetitive effect is almost completely lost. The translator replaced the original phrase taking out the bucket with five different translations: nej jo odnesem, nosit kante ven, da bi nosil ven kante, za odnašanje smeti and če bi bil vzet za kante. These versions more or less meet the criterion of preserving the content, but they certainly fail to maintain the form. Any resemblance among the translations is too vague for the audience to be able to grasp them as chain of recurrent phrases with only slight variations. What is more, such considerable differences also diminish the carefully constructed rhythmical effect by using either words of different length or varied word order, both of which create a different rhythm. My suggested translation of this passage preserves the relevant elements to a greater extent1: DAVIES. Pride tja k meni, postavi kanto za smeti pred mene pa mi reče, naj jo nesem ven. Ni moje delo, da bi nosil kanto ven! Saj imajo mulca, da nosi kanto ven. Jaz nisem tam, da bi nosil kante ven. Moje delo je, da čistim po tleh, počistim z miz, malo pomivam, ne pa da nosim kante ven! ASTON. Uh. Odide na desno v ozadje po opekač. DAVIES (mu sledi). No, pa recimo, da bi bil! Tudi če bi bil! Tudi če bi naj tam nosil kante ven, kdo pa je on, da bo prišel tja in mi dajal ukaze? In my translation, the phrase nosit kante ven is used consistently; it even takes into consideration the minor grammatical variations that appear in the original text. The idea of Davies’s characterisation through his repeating the same sentence over and over is much better preserved. Moreover, the above suggestion also corresponds better to the original as far as rhythm and length of words are concerned. Each phrase, take out the bucket and nosit kanto ven, contains three stressed syllables and keeps this characteristic throughout the passage despite the grammatical variations. There is further acoustic resemblance between the key words of both phrases; the original bucket and the translation kanta are two-syllable words with the stress on the first syllable. They also both contain the k and t sounds and that constitutes the same kind of consonance in both versions. In addition to the consonance, there is a similar degree of resemblance between out and ven. Apart from the iterative effect, the word cluster take out the bucket will – especially to an English speaking audience – provoke a disturbing echo of the colloquial expression to kick the bucket (i.e. die). The Slovene language does not have a similar phrase, so this dimension of meaning is not included in the suggested translation. There are at least four more examples of recurrences in the above cited passage, but these are less prominent, especially in the presence of the one commented upon. Only one of those has been preserved in translation, and that is Davies’s second utterance (Pinter 1977, 18): “Yes, well say I had! Even if I had! Even if I was /…/”, which is translated as: “No, pa recimo, da bi bil! Tudi če bi bil! Tudi če bi bil vzet /…/ (Pinter 1990, 4)”.  it must be mentioned that in the suggested translation, there are also some changes that do not directly relate to repetitions and recurrences. By including these, i wanted to propose a translation that preserves content and form of the original text as much as possible. TRANSLATION STUDIES 29 The phrase, my job, that appears twice in Davies’s first utterance is translated as moja stvar the first time and is hidden in the phrase jaz sem za the second time. The translation moje delo is better because it not only preserves the recurrence but is also connected to the above discussion of taking out the bucket; it stresses the fact that Davies understands this “low job” as something that is somebody else’s job. By disregarding the recurrence my job, the translation fails to bring out this feature more explicitly. None of the three appearances of the pronoun me from the beginning of Davies’s first utterance is preserved in Moder’s translation. Even my translation only manages to preserve two – the reason being in the differentiation between the longer stressed and shorter unstressed forms of personal pronouns that do not exist in the English language. A larger portion of the joint effect of this recurrence lies in the first two that are accentuated; despite the fact that the third one is formally the same as the first two, it is slightly less noticeable because the stress is on the adjacent verb tells. A similar effect is achieved in my translation, where the first two are replaced by the longer forms meni and mene and manage to keep the connection, whereas mi is too weak and is – like the English me – almost lost. The suggested translation is therefore closer to the original than Moder’s, which interrupts the recurrence with the second form predme. Apart from that, pred mene is also more appropriate from the point of view of register, since it sounds less formal. Another partial recurrence in this passage is cleaning followed by the slightly prolonged form cleaning up. Even though the phrasal verb clean up can according to the English-Slovene Dictionary (Grad et. al. 1990, 147–8) be translated as pospraviti, it is better to use the translation počistiti, i.e. počistim in this case, not so much because of the meaning, but because of the form that resembles the preceding one čistim, the Slovene prefix po-being a substitute for the English up. This choice of words in the translation sounds better than gerunds ribanje and pospravljanje. 4. Conclusion Microstructural comparison of the original and its Slovene translation has revealed some plans where the translator did not consider multiple, significant elements of style that are crucial especially in the case of Pinter. Recurrence is one feature that does not disturb with its absence but does substantially enrich the translation when it is preserved. The ideal situation in which all the layers of the original text would be taken into consideration and then adequately translated is not easy to achieve. Some factors are beyond the translator’s control; sometimes, for instance, a word to cover all aspects of a certain passage does not exist. However, it is almost always possible to reach an optimal solution that captures more than just the lexical, semantic, discursive, etc. meaning. Bibliography Beaugrande, R. de. 1991. Coincidence in Translation: Glory and Misery Again. Target 3, no. 1: 17–53. Beaugrande, R. de, and W.U. Dressler. 1988. Introduction to Text Linguistics. Harlow: Longman. – – –. 1992. Uvod v besediloslovje. Prev. A. Derganc in T. Miklič. Ljubljana: Park. Grad, A., R. Škerlj & N. Vitorovič. 1990. Veliki angleško-slovenski slovar. 1990. Ljubljana: Državna založba Slovenije. Green, G. 1968. On ‚too‘ and ‚either‘ and not just ‚too‘ and ‚either‘ either. Fourth CLS: 22–39. Gülich, E., and W. Raible, eds. 1972. Textsorten. Frankfurt: Anthenäum. Harris, Z. 1952. Discourse Analysis. Language, no. 28: 1–30, 474–94. Hribar, D. 2004. Harold Pinter in Slovene Translation. ELOPE, 1, nos. 1–2: 196–208. Kos, J., ed. 1987. Literatura. Leksikon Cankarjeve založbe. Ljubljana: Cankarjeva založba. Pinter, H. 1990. Hišnik. (Trans. J. Moder, unpublished manuscript.) Prešernovo gledališče Kranj. Pinter, H. 1977. Complete Works: Two. New York: Grove. Van Dijk, T. 1969. Sémantique structurale et analyse thématique. Lingua, no. 23: 28–53. Weinrich, H. 1972. Thesen zur Textsortenlinguuistik. In E. Gülich and W. Raible, eds., 161–9. ELOPE English Language Overseas Perspectives and Enquiries NOTES FOR CONTRIBUTORS General. ELOPE publishes original research articles, studies and essays which address issues of the English language, literature, teaching and translation. The language of contributions is English. Manuscripts are welcomed from all countries and should be sent to Gašper Ilc, Filozofska fakulteta, Oddelek za anglistiko in amerikanistiko, Aškerčeva 2, 1000 Ljubljana, Slovenia, gasper.ilc@ff.uni-lj.si. Submission of manuscripts. Manuscripts should be submitted for review on three anonymous printed copies and a diskette or a CD inWord (.doc, .rtf) and PDF. A separate sheet with the title of the paper, the name of the author, affiliation and address should be attached. Only one contribution by the same author per volume will be considered. Each paper should be accompanied by abstracts in English and Slovene (between 150 and 200 words) and keywords. Abstracts by non-native speakers of Slovene will be translated into Slovene. Suggested length of manuscripts is between 5,000 and 8,000 words. Manuscript style. Page one should contain the following information: • article title in the language of the article • author(s) name(s) • author(s) affiliation(s) • correspondence address (full address, phone number, e-mail address) The manuscript starts on page two, in the following format: • title in English • abstracts in English and Slovene (between 200 and 300 words each) • the paper should be divided into: • introduction • body of the paper (possibly subdivided) • conclusion References. References should comply with The Chicago Manual of Style (15th edition, 2003). ENGLISH LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE STUDIES IN THE CONTEXT OF EUROPEAN LANGUAGE DIVERSITY Volume II/1-2 Editors Smiljana Komar Uroš Mozetič Editorial Board Dušan Gabrovšek (Ljubljana, Slovenia) Meta Grosman (Ljubljana, Slovenia) Adolphe Haberer (Lyon, France) Darja Hribar (Maribor, Slovenia) Victor Kennedy (Maribor, Slovenia) J. Lachlan Mackenzie (Lisbon, Portugal) Milena Milojević Sheppard (Ljubljana, Slovenia) Janez Skela (Ljubljana, Slovenia)Rastislav Šuštaršič (Ljubljana, Slovenia) Editorial Secretary Gašper Ilc Proofreading Jason Blake Editorial Policy ELOPE. English Language Overseas Perspectives and Enquiries is a journal devoted to the research and academic discussion of linguistic and literary issues from theoretical and applied perspectives regardless of school of thought or methodology. Its aim is to promote original enquiry into linguistics, literary and translation studies, language and literature teaching with the main focus on English. ELOPE will publish two issues per year. Subscription for 2005 costs 3.000,00 SIT or 12,50 EUROS. Members of the Slovene association for the study of English are entitled to a free copy. Publisher’s address Slovensko društvo za angleške študije, Aškerčeva 2, SI-1000 Ljubljana UDK classification Angelika Hribar Design Gašper Mrak Cover Marjan Pogačnik, Zimsko cvetje, 1994 7,6 x 10,0 cm; colour etching, deep relief Owner: National gallery, Ljubljana Photo: Bojan Salaj, National gallery, Ljubljana Printed by Trajanus d.o.o., Kranj Number of copies 300 Ljubljana, 2005 ISSN 1581-8918