Вопросы, выносимые на обсуждение
Points for discussion :
1. What definition of text is syntactically relevant?
2. What are the principles of identifying textual units?
3. What is the basic difference between a cumuleme and an occurseme?
4. What is the role of the dicteme in the formation of text?
5. What basic functions are performed by the dicteme?
6. What textual categories do scholars usually identify?
7. What enables linguists to regard topical unity and semantico-synlaclic cohesion as the basic textual categories?
Задания
Exercises:
Exercise.1 Dwell on the means of cohesion in the given text fragments
MODEL:
Ten minutes later, with face blanched by terror, and eyes wild with grief, Lord Arthur Savile rushed from Bentinck House, crushing his way through the crowd of fur-coated footmen that stood round the large striped awning, and seeming not to see or hear anything. 7 'he was bitter cold, and the gas-lamps round the square flared and flickered in the keen wind; but his hands were hot with fever, and his forehead burned like fire. On and on he went, almost with the gait of a drunken тип policeman looked curiously at him as he passed, and a beggar, who slouched from an archway to ask for alms, grew frightened, seeing misery greater than his own. Once he stopped under a lamp, and looked at his hands. He thought he could detect the stain of blood already upon them, and a faint cry broke from his trembling lips.
Murder! that is what the cheiromantist had seen there. Murder! The very night seemed to know it, and the desolate wind to howl it in his ear. The dark corners of the streets were full of it. It grinned at him from the roofs of the houses.
First he came to the Park, whose sombre woodland seemed to fascinate him. He leaned wearily up against the railings, cooling his brow against the wet metal, and listening to the tremulous silence of the trees. 'Murder! murder!' he kept repeating, as though iteration could dim the horror of the word. The sound of his own voice made him shudder, yet he almost hoped that Echo might hear him, and wake the slumbering city from its dreams. He felt a mad desire to stop the casual passer-by, and tell him everything.
(from O. Wilde "Lord Arthur Savile's Crime")
The principal means of textual cohesion in this fragment is repetition of different kinds: 1) lexical repetition (repetition of the key word): "Murder! that is what the cheiromantist had seen there. Murder!", the repetition of the pronouns: "he" and "it" (substituting "the murder"), repetition of the words used to describe the background: "night", "dark", "wind"; 2) lexical synonymic repetition: "with the face blanched by terror", "the horror of the word"; "eyes wild with grief, "seeing misery greater than his own"; 3) repetition of the verbs of motion: "rushed, crashed the way through, on and on he went, he passed, came to the Park".
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Among other means we find substitution (Lord Arthur Savile - he, his; the murder - it, the word, everything) and representation: "Murder! murder! he kept repeating" - "iteration".
Besides, the function of connectors is performed by conjunctions (but, and, yet). Another means of textual cohesion is contrast: "the night was bitter cold, and the gas-lamps round the square flared and flickered in the keen wind; but his hands were hot with fever, and his forehead burned like fire."
The whole piece deals with the description of the main character's agitated state of mind after he had learned his fate. The following lexical units contribute to the thematic unity of the text: face blanched by terror, eyes wild with grief rushed, crushing his way, seemed not to see or hear anything, his hands were hot with fever, his forehead burned like fire, the gait of a drunken man, misery, could detect the stain of blood, a faint cry, trembling lips, desolate wind, leaned wearily, the horror of the word, shudder, a mad desire.
1. It was 2 p.m. on the afternoon of May 7, 1915. The Lusitania had
been struck by two torpedoes in succession and was sinking rapidly, while the boats were being launched with all possible speed. The women and children were being lined up awaiting their turn. Some still clung desperately to husbands and fathers; others clutched their children closely to their breasts. One girl stood alone, slightly apart from the rest. She was quite young, not more than eighteen. She did not seem afraid, and her grave, steadfast eyes looked straight ahead.
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"I beg your pardon."
A man's voice beside her made her start and turn. She had noticed the speaker more than once amongst the first-class passengers. There had been a hint of mystery about him which had appealed to her imagination. He spoke to no one. If anyone spoke to him he was quick to rebuff the overture. Also he had a nervous way of looking over his shoulder with a swift, suspicious glance.
She noticed now that he was greatly agitated. There were beads of perspiration on his brow. He was evidently in a state of overmastering fear. And yet he did not strike her as the kind of man who would be afraid to meet death!
(from A. Christie "The Secret Adversary")
2. Now, so far as this went, everything fitted in finally and rationally
enough. Valentin had learned by his inquiries that morning that a Father
Brown from Essex was bringing up a silver cross with sapphires, a relic of considerable value, to show some of the foreign priests at the congress. This undoubtedly was the "silver with blue stones"; and Father Brown undoubtedly was the little greenhorn in the train. Now there was nothing wonderful about the fact that what Valentin had found out Flambeau had also found out; Flambeau found out everything. Also there was nothing wonderful in the fact that when Flambeau heard of a sapphire cross he should try to steal it; that was the most natural thing in all natural history. And most certainly there was nothing wonderful about the fact that Flambeau should have it all his own way with such a silly sheep as the man with the umbrella and the parcels. He was the sort of man whom anybody could lead on a string to the North Pole; it was not surprising that an actor like Flambeau, dressed as another priest, could lead him to Hampstead Heath. So far the crime seemed clear enough; and while the detective pitied the priest for his helplessness, he almost despised Flambeau for condescending to so gullible a victim. But
when Valentin thought of all that had happened in between, of all that had led him to his triumph, he racked his brains for the smallest rhyme or reason in it. What had the stealing of a blue-and-silver cross from a priest from Essex to do with chucking soup at wall paper? What had it to do with calling nuts oranges, or with paying for windows first and breaking them afterwards? He had come to the end of his chase; yet somehow he had missed the middle of it. When he failed (which was seldom), he had usually grasped the clue, but nevertheless missed the criminal. Here he had grasped the criminal, but still he could not grasp the clue.
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The two figures that they followed were crawling like black flies across the huge green contour of a hill. They were evidently sunk in conversation, and perhaps did not notice where they were going; but they were certainly going to the wilder and more silent heights of the Heath. As their pursuers gained on them, the latter had to use the undignified attitudes of the deer-stalker, to crouch behind clumps of trees and even to crawl prostrate in deep grass. By these ungainly ingenuities the hunters even came close enough to the quarry to hear the murmur of the discussion, but no word could be distinguished except the word "reason" recurring frequently in a high and almost childish voice. Once over an abrupt dip of land and a dense tangle of thickets, the detectives actually lost the two figures they were following. They did not find the trail again for an agonising ten minutes, and then it led round the brow of a great dome of hill overlooking an amphitheatre of rich and desolate sunset scenery. Under a tree in this commanding yet neglected spot was an old ramshackle wooden seat. On this seat sat the two priests still in serious speech together. The gorgeous green and gold still clung to the darkening horizon; but the dome above was turning slowly from peacock-green to peacock-blue, and the stars detached themselves more and more like solid jewels. Mutely motioning to his followers, Valentin contrived to creep up behind the big branching tree, and, standing there in deathly silence, heard the words of the strange priests for the first time.
(from G.K. Chesterton "The Blue Cross")
Exercise.2 Dwell on the means of cohesion in the given text fragments.
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1. My mother was sitting by the fire, but poorly in health, and very low in spirits, looking at it through her tears, and desponding heavily about herself and the fatherless little stranger, who was already welcomed by some grosses of prophetic pins, in a drawer upstairs, to a world not at all excited on the subject of his arrival; my mother, I say, was sitting by the fire, that bright, windy March afternoon, very timid and sad, and very doubtful of ever coming alive out of the trial that was before her, when, lifting her eyes as she dried them, to the window opposite, she saw a strange lady coming up the garden.
My mother had a sure foreboding at the second glance, that it was Miss Betsey. The setting sun was glowing on the strange lady, over the garden-fence, and she came walking up to the door with a fell rigidity of figure and composure of countenance that could have belonged to nobody else.
When she reached the house, she gave another proof of her identity. My father had often hinted that she seldom conducted herself like any ordinary Christian; and now, instead of ringing the bell, she came and looked in at that identical window, pressing the end of her nose against the glass to that extent, that my poor dear mother used to say it became perfectly flat and white in a moment.
She gave my mother such a turn, that I have always been convinced I am indebted to Miss Betsey for having been born on a Friday.
My mother had left her chair in her agitation, and gone behind it in the corner. Miss Betsey, looking round the room, slowly and inquiringly, began on the other side, and carried her eyes on, like a Saracen's Head in a Dutch clock, until they reached my mother. Then she made a frown and a gesture to my mother, like one who was accustomed to be obeyed, to come and open the door. My mother went.
(from Ch. Dickens "David Copperfield")
2. We sat there for half-an-hour, describing to each other our maladies. I explained to George and William Harris how I felt when I got up in the morning, and William Harris told us how he felt when he went to bed; and George stood on the hearth-rug, and gave us a clever and powerful piece of acting, illustrative of how he felt in the night.
George FANCIES he is ill; but there's never anything really the matter with him, you know.
At this point, Mrs. Poppets knocked at the door to know if we were ready for supper. We smiled sadly at one another, and said we supposed we had better try to swallow a bit. Harris said a little something in one's stomach often kept the disease in check; and Mrs. Poppets brought the tray in, and we drew up to the table, and toyed with a little steak and onions, and some rhubarb tart.
I must have been very weak at the time; because I know, after the first half-hour or so, I seemed to take no interest whatever in my food - an unusual thing for me - and I didn't want any cheese.
This duty done, we refilled our glasses, lit our pipes, and resumed the discussion upon our state of health. What it was that was actually the matter with us, we none of us could be sure of; but the unanimous opinion was that it - whatever it was - had been brought on by overwork.
"What we want is rest," said Harris.
"Rest and a complete change," said George. "The overstrain upon our brains has produced a general depression throughout the system. Change of scene, and absence of the necessity for thought, will restore the mental equilibrium."
George has a cousin, who is usually described in the charge-sheet as a medical student, so that he naturally has a somewhat family-physicianary way of putting things.
I agreed with George, and suggested that we should seek out some retired and old-world spot, far from the madding crowd, and dream away a sunny week among its drowsy lanes - some half-forgotten nook, hidden away by the fairies, out of reach of the noisy world - some quaint-perched eyrie on the cliffs of Time, from whence the surging waves of the nineteenth century would sound far-off and faint.
Harris said he thought it would be humpy. He said he knew the sort of place I meant; where everybody went to bed at eight o'clock, and you couldn't get a Referee for love or money, and had to walk ten miles to get your baccy.
"No," said Harris, "if you want rest and change, you can't beat a sea trip."
I objected to the sea trip strongly. A sea trip does you good when you are going to have a couple of months of it, but, for a week, it is wicked.
(from J.K. Jerome "Three Men in a Boat")
3. No, he had never written about Paris. Not the Paris that he cared about. But what about the rest that he had never written?
What about the ranch and the silvered gray of the sage brush, the quick, clear water in the irrigation ditches, and the heavy green of the alfalfa. The trail went up into the hills and the cattle in the summer were shy as deer. The bawling and the steady noise and slow-moving mass raising a dust as you brought them in the fall. And behind the mountains, the clear sharpness of the peak in the evening light and, riding down along the trail in the moonlight, bright across the valley. Now he remembered coming down through the timber in the dark holding the horse's tail when you could not see and all the stories that he meant to write.
About the half-wit chore boy who was left at the ranch that time and told not to let any one get any hay, and that old bastard from the Forks who had beaten the boy when he had worked for him stopping to get some food. The boy refused and the old man saying he would beat him again. The boy got the rifle from the kitchen and shot him when he tried to come into the barn and when they came back to the ranch he'd been dead a week, frozen in the corral, and the dogs had eaten part of him. But what was left you packed on a sled wrapped in a blanket and roped on and you got the boy to help you haul it, and the two of you took it out over the road on skis, and 60 miles down to town to turn the boy over. He having no idea that he would be arrested. Thinking he had done his duty and that you were his friends and he would be rewarded. He'd helped to haul the old man in so everybody could know how bad the old man had been and how he'd tried to steal some food that didn't belong to him, and when the sheriff put the hand-cuffs on the boy he couldn't believe it. Then he started to cry. That was one story he had saved to write. He knew at least twenty good stories from out there and he had never written one. Why?
(from E. Hemingway "The Snows of Kilimanjaro")
Exercise.3. Dwell on the means of cohesion in the following piece. Can this piece be considered as a strictly coherent text?
One night we started for Bradford. Bradford is a tiny village not far from Nottingham. Nottingham is a very old city. A city is usually a rather large town, with a cathedral. A cathedral is a large, beautifully decorated church, the chief one of a Christian Diocese. Diocese is the area under the control of a bishop. A bishop is a high-ranking priest in charge of all the churches and priests in a large area. A bishop can be moved any number of squares from one corner towards the opposite corner. Poets' Corner is a part of Westminster Abbey where many famous English poets and writers are buried, one of them is Geoffrey Chaucer. Chaucer is best known for his long poem "The Canterbury Tales". The Archbishop of Canterbury is the head of the Church of England. In England there are many old cities, one of them is Nottingham, not far from which is Bradford. We started for Bradford in the first sentence of this story.
Рекомендуемая литература
Основная литература:
1. Худяков, А. А. Теоретическая грамматика английского языка : [учеб. пособие для студ. филол. фак-тов и фак-тов иностранных языков вузов] / Худяков Андрей Александрович. - 3-е изд., стер. - М. : Академия , 2012. - 255 с. - (Высшее профессиональное образование). - Библиогр.: с. 219-224. - Терминол. указ.: с. 245-250. - На обл.: Языкознание. - ISBN 978-5-7695-6145-0 : 391-60.
2. Bloch M.Y. A Course in Theoretical English Grammar. - M., 2000. – p.6-26.
3. Блох М.Я. Теоретические основы грамматики – М., Высшая школа 2010.
Дополнительная литература:
1. Арутюнова Н.Д. Предложение и его смысл: логико-семантические проблемы. – М., 2000.
2. Слюсарева Н.А. Проблемы функционального синтаксиса современного английского языка. – М., 1981.
3. Бархударов Л.С. Структура простого предложения современного английского языка. - М., 1982.
Интернет-ресурсы:
1. http://www.sil.org/linguistics/GlossaryOfLinguisticTerms глоссарий, содержащий более 900 лингвистических терминов с перекрестными ссылками и списком источников (SIL International). Ред. Е. Е. Loos, S.Anderson. D.H.Day Jr., P.C.Jourdan, J.D.Wingate
2. https://www.thoughtco.com/theoretical-grammar-1692541 информационный обучающий ресурс, посвящённый вопросам теоретической грамматики
3. http://www.edufind.com/english/grammar/ информационный обучающий ресурс, посвящённый вопросам грамматики
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