编者按：这篇论文发表于美国NARRATIVE期刊第9卷第2期（2001年5月）。文章原题为：Narrative, Reality, and Narrator as Construct: Reflections on Genette’s “Narrating”。
In contrast to various dichotomous distinctions such as Russian Formalists’ “fabula” versus “sjuzhet” and Todorov’s “histoire” versus “discours” (126), Genette makes in Narrative Discourse a tripartite distinction between 1) Story (histoire): the narrative content. 2) Narrative (recit): the discourse or narrative text itself. 3) Narrating (narration): the producing narrative action (27) . Although Genette stresses the importance of “narrating” and expresses his regret at the fact that “until now the theory of narrative has been so little concerned with the problems of narrative enunciating” (26), his trichotomous distinction becomes a dichotomy between story and discourse in practice, as Rimmon-Kenan observes, “Indeed, the category of narration (or ‘narrating’ in the English translation) becomes one aspect of the recit (i.e. ‘voice’), so that the ternary model is turned in practice into a binary one” (1989, 159) . This inconsistency between theory and practice is far from fortuitous, but closely connected with the nature of the real and fictitious narrating processes. The present paper argues that, in the case of written narration, the real process of narrating (i.e. writing) lies beyond the narrative, thus beyond the scope of any narrative classification, but it could fruitfully become a part of narratological study through combining intrinsic criticism with extrinsic criticism. Moreover, it is argued that the fictitious narrating process either is inaccessible to the reader or, when accessible, would become part of the story or the discourse depending on at which level the analysis is carried out. Given this, any attempt to keep a separate category “narrating” is bound to fail. Not only does Genette’s trichotomy collapse into a dichotomy in practice, but also, as will be shown below, Rimmon-Kenan’s attempt to make “narration” into a separate category is found to be unsuccessful.
I Real Process of Narrating: World Beyond Text
While fully conscious of the necessity to distinguish the narrator from the author (13-14), Genette does take account of the real process of narrating, defining “narrating” as “the producing narrative action and, by extension, the whole of the real or fictional situation in which that action takes place” (27 my emphasis). Here is a comparison made by Genette between real and fictional narrating: “… Flaubert needed almost five years to write Madame Bovary. Nevertheless—and this is finally very odd—the fictive narrating of that narrative, as with almost all the novels in the world except Tristram Shandy, is considered to have no duration; or more exactly, everything takes place as if the question of its duration had no relevance.” (222) The following is a passage taken from Tristram Shandy: “I will not finish that sentence till I have made an observation upon the strange state of affairs between the reader and myself… I am this month one whole year older than I was this time twelve-month; and having got, as you perceive, almost into the middle of my fourth volume—and no farther than to my first day’s life—’tis demonstrative that I have three hundred and sixty-four days more life to write just now, than when I first set out … ” (Chapter 13, 258-59) Here we seem to have two narrating processes: one, Shandy’s narrating of this passage, and the other, the supposed writing of the book narrated by Shandy. In terms of the former, the reader cannot see the process itself – what is accessible to the reader are only the words uttered by Shandy. As for the supposed writing of the book, it is only a fake process of narrating, since it is Laurence Sterne rather than Tristram Shandy who is writing the book and who has got “almost into the middle of [the] fourth volume”. This fake process of narrating, which is created for the purpose of parodying the real process of writing, actually forms part of the story narrated by Shandy, with no writing/narrating function.
If we are to concern ourselves with the real process of narrating, we would have to go beyond the narrative into the real world. It may be of interest to mention that the real process of narrating functions in a quite different way in oral narration, where the audience has direct access to the storyteller’s narrating process. The storyteller’s tone, gestures, facial expressions etc. interact with his/her words, playing a very important affective function. Whatever the storyteller does during this process may directly bear on the audience’s response to the narrative. Interestingly, the storyteller may assume different stances when telling different stories. Indeed, in telling the same story to different audiences on different occasions, he or she may also adopt different stances. Yet no critics have ever bothered to distinguish the “implied” storyteller from the real storyteller. What critics since Plato have focused on is whether the storyteller is telling the story in his own voice or is imitating the voice of a character.1 By contrast, in written narratives, the distinction between the implied author and the real author has received such emphasis, coupled with other factors, that the real author and the real process of narrating have been very much neglected in narratology among other text-oriented approaches (cf. Ginsburg and Rimmon-Kenan).
As observed by Genette, Flaubert needed almost five years to write Madame Bovary. What happened to Flaubert during these five years must have had significant bearing on the novel. In interpreting the novel, it would be helpful to look into the relation between the process of writing and the novel as a product, between Flaubert the real author during these five years and Flaubert the implied author as inferred from the work. The significant point is that the real process of narrating lies beyond the narrative. This point seems to have escaped the attention of Genette who made the tripartite distinction in order to clear up the ambiguity involved in the term “narrative” (25). In fact, to investigate the real process of narrating, one needs necessarily go outside the narrative into the social-historical context of the real author, that is, beyond the scope of narratology proper into spheres such as history, ideology, and biographical studies. This is an aspect that has attracted much attention from traditional critics but neglected by narratologists, whose position is well reflected in the following diagram of “the whole narrative-communication situation” drawn by Chatman (1978, 151):
Narrative Text
Real author ---- Implied author → (Narrator) → (Narratee) →Implied reader ---- Real reader
From this perspective, the “real author and real reader are outside the narrative transaction as such, though, of course, indispensable to it in an ultimate practical sense” (ibid). But the real reader has in fact long come into the consideration of narratologists since “the implied author” depends on the reader’s inference, and since readers in different social-historical contexts may infer different implied authors from the same text (Chatman, 1990) . Now, the concern with the real process of narrating (i.e. writing) would bring in the real author as well. A consideration of the gaps and links between the implied author and the real author may help enrich and deepen our understanding of the narrative work concerned. In other words, intrinsic and extrinsic criticism may be fruitfully combined to shed more light on the text, particularly in the case of narratives which are closely connected with the personal experiences of the real author.
II Fictitious Process of Narrating: Narrator as Construct
While the real process of narrating lies beyond the written narrative itself, any fictitious process of narrating, whether extradiegetic or intradiegetic, heterodiegetic or homodiegetic, is not accessible to the reader unless it becomes an object of narration. For example, “He was silent for a while… . He paused again as if reflecting, then added - ‘Of course in this you fellows see more than I could then. …’ ” (Conrad, Heart of Darkness, 39) Here, Marlow’s process of narrating becomes accessible to the reader only by virtue of being narrated by a higher-level narrator. Marlow, of course, can tell the narratee about his own process of narrating: “ ‘Try to be civil, Marlow,’ growled a voice, and I know there was at least one listener awake beside myself. ” (49) Not surprisingly, in a written narrative where only the verbal signs are accessible to the reader, the process of fictive narrating has no way to present itself and is therefore not accessible to the reader/critic unless it becomes an object of narration. And when it becomes an object of narration, it either becomes part of the story (when narrated by a higher-level narrator) or part of the discourse.
Since fictive narrating seldom becomes an object of narration, it “is considered to have no duration,” especially in the case of extra-heterodiegetic narrators. If the extra-heterodiegetic narrator is free from personalizing, readers will only read the narrated words while feeling the presence of a “disembodied” voice. If readers try to look behind the words for the narrating process, they will only find the writer’s writing hand, and the fact that the disembodied voice is merely a fictional illusion. The same goes for homodiegetic narrators. Even as Genette makes the indisputable point that “narrative discourse depends absolutely on [the] action of telling. . . in the same way that any statement is the product of an act of enunciating" (26), he also points out that some aspects of the narrating may be omitted without any cost to the effectiveness of a narrative: “We know more or less where Proust wrote the Recherche du temps perdu, but we are ignorant of where Marcel is considered to have produced the narrative of his life, and we scarcely think of worrying about it. On the other hand, it is very important for us to know, for example, how much time elapses between the first scene of the Recherche (the drama of going to bed”) and the moment when it is evoked in these terms: ‘Many years have passed since that night. …’” (216). Indeed, apart from the very general issue of temporal orientation (whether the narrating is retrospective, simultaneous, or prospective in relation to the events), there is no necessity for the narrating to be an expressed part of a narrative. In many cases, if we look behind the words for the narrating, we will only find the writer's writing hand as the producer of the narrative discourse.
III “Narration” in Rimmon-Kenan’s Trichotomy
After pointing out the inconsistency between Genette’s theoretical trichotomy and practical dichotomy, Rimmon-Kenan made an attempt to be consistent, observing: “... I am careful not to collapse a ternary distinction into a binary one and I do make ‘narration’ into a separate category, this category consists of 1) ‘levels and voices’ (where ‘voice’ becomes the narrator’s position vis a vis the story, in the spirit of Genette) and 2) ‘speech presentation,’ i.e. direct, indirect, and free indirect discourse” (1989, 159-60). The other two categories of Rimmon-Kenan’s ternary model are “story” (the narrated events and participants) and “text” (a spoken or written discourse which tells the story). But in written narration, since we only have access to the narrated words (with tense, person etc. indicating the relation between the narrator and the story), and since any fictitious process of narrating (whether extra-, intra-, hetero- or homo-diegetic) is not accessible to the reader unless it becomes an object of narration, voice and level, like focalization and characterization, are or can become aspects of what Rimmon-Kenan calls “text”. As for speech presentation, since it is part of characterization, it is also part of “text,” a level at which Rimmon-Kenan discusses the ways of presenting character's action. Let’s have a look at the following examples taken from Jane Austen’s Emma: “‘Take it,’ said Emma, smiling, and pushing the paper towards Harriet – ‘it is for you. Take your own.’” (64) “He perfectly agreed with her: and after walking together so long, and thinking so much alike, Emma felt…” (334). Clearly, there is no essential difference between the direct or diegetic presentation of a character’s action and the direct or diegetic presentation of a character’s words. While both the character’s action and speech form part of the narrated story, the ways of presenting them belong to the same level of “text” or “discourse”.
To see things in a clearer light, it may be worthwhile making a comparison with Bal’s trichotomy. Bal draws in Narratology a trichotomy between “fabula” (the structure of the fictitious or ‘real’ content), “story” (the medium-free arrangement of the content in a specific manner), and “text” (the linguistic structure and the different speakers involved)2. Significantly, what is discussed by Rimmon-Kenan at the level of “narration” is precisely what is discussed by Bal at the level of “text” which covers the narrator, levels of narration etc.. And what Rimmon-Kenan discusses at the level of “text” is precisely what Bal excludes from the level of “text” to discuss at the level of “story.” As mentioned above, Genette in practice collapses a trichotomy into a dichotomy. Not surprisingly, what Bal discusses at the levels of “story” and “text” and what Rimmon-Kenan discusses at the levels of “text” and “narration” are all discussed by Genette at the single level of narrative discourse.
While in oral narration, as we have seen, it is essential to draw a trichotomous distinction between story, discourse and narrating, in written narration, the case is quite different. As far as the narrative itself is concerned, there is little point in having a separate category “narrating” or “narration,” since the real narrating process lies beyond the narrative and any fictitious process of narrating is not accessible unless it becomes an object being narrated. Up to now, only occasionally some brief moments of the fictive narrating process have become object of narration. Significantly, whatever element of the process is narrated, it would become either part of the story or part of the discourse, depending on at which level the analysis is carried out. In light of the discussion above, we may no longer feel surprised or puzzled at the fact that fictive narrating in novels is usually considered “to have no duration,” and that “until now the theory of narrative has been so little concerned with the problems of narrative enunciating, concentrating almost all its attention on the statement and its contents” (Genette 26). Indeed, as far as fictive narrating is concerned, to understand what has happened during this process, all we can do is to look at the narrated elements. And to understand the relation between the narrator and the story, all we need to do is to investigate the narrative discourse especially in terms of Genette’s “mood” and “voice”. At the same time, it is hoped that narrative theorists’ concern with “narrating” may stimulate us to go beyond the narrative into the real world for an investigation of the relationship between the real process of narrating and the narrative as a product.
ENDNOTES
1. The distinction between diegesis and mimesis in the third book of Plato’s Republic has been widely referred to by narrative theorists when discussing written narration. But Plato (or rather Socrates and his interlocutors), in making this distinction, is concerned with oral rather than written narration, as indicated by the explicit reference to “voice” and “gesture” in the following piece of dialogue: “ ‘And this assimilation of himself to another, either by the use of voice or gesture, is the imitation of the person whose character [the poet] assumes?’ ‘of course.’ ‘Then in this case the narrative of the poet, whether Homer or another, may be said to proceed by way of imitation?’ ‘Very true.’ ” (Plato 26, my emphasis and quotation marks). As we know, Homer was a professional reciter of epics (a rhapsode). Plato’s distinction, that is to say, is not only concerned with the narrative discourse (direct v. indirect mode) but also with the process of narrating (the rhapsode’s performing voice and gestures). It may be worth mentioning in passing that, because of the direct contact between the storyteller and the audience, oral narration does not accommodate first-person narration (neither does it accommodate multi-level narration). Like epic poetry, early Chinese novels in the vernacular, in contrast to early novels in classical Chinese and 18th-century English fiction, were invariably in third person. This is to be accounted for by the fact that this genre developed directly from storytellers’ scripts. Indeed, but for the firm separation from oral narration, there would not have been works like Defoe’s Moll Flanders, let alone Richardson’s Pamela or Stern’s Tristram Shandy.
2. Bal’s “story” contains six aspects: 1) sequential ordering, 2) rhythm, 3) frequency, 4) from actors to characters, 5) from place to space, 6) focalization. As far as categories 4) and 5) are concerned, there is a confusion between content and manner. Bal places “actor” at the level of “fabula” and “character” the level of “story” (i.e. manner of presentation). She defines “character” as “the actor provided with distinctive characteristics” (79). But a character’s traits are inherent in the fictional being. In discussing the distinction between “round” and “flat” characters, Bal observes, “Entire genres, such as fairy tales, detective fiction, and pulp fiction, thus remain excluded from observation because all their characters are ‘flat’ ” (81). Apparently, Bal is here treating all fictional human beings as characters. Indeed, they are all characters, and as “existents” (Chatman 1978, 19), they invariably belong to the level of “fabula”. If we define “actor” as “a character or any other entity that plays a functional role in the plot,” everything will fall into place. If a character plays a function in the plot, s/he is an actor, otherwise s/he is not. If a character both plays a function in the plot and has distinctive characteristics, we can either view him/her functionally as an actor, or psychologically as a fictional human being with rich traits, or both ways. As for the relation between “place” and “space,” Bal positions the former on the level of “fabula,” and the latter that of “story,” defining the latter as “These places seen in relations to their perception are called space” (93). The following is an example of space: “For hours, he wandered through the dark forest. All of a sudden, he saw a light. He hurried towards the house and knocked on the door….” (Bal 94). Clearly, in whatever way the forest, the light and the house are perceived by the character, they constitute “existents” in the “fabula,” rather than manner of presentation. Bal’s other four aspects of “story” do form ways of presentation. But in discussing them, Bal focuses her attention on “How is it that a narrative text comes across to the reader in a certain manner?” (49), rather than on medium-free techniques. Some important items discussed by Bal depend on the verbal medium. For instance, the distinction between summary and scene can only be applied to verbal narratives, since film, photography or choreography are scenic by nature, with no room for summary (unless one resorts to the offscreen voice or character’s words). As for “pause,” Bal gives it a theoretical discussion on the level of “story,” mentioning its two categories: “descriptive and argumentative sections” (77), but gives a more concrete discussion of the two categories on the level of “text,” thus erasing the medium-free and verbal-medium-bound distinction. This is not surprising, since Bal actually focuses on manner of presentation in written narratives. Indeed, the four aspects in Bal’s discussion correspond in specific ways to the same aspects in Genette’s discussion of narrative discourse. Some of the ways of arranging the events as discussed are shared by other media, such as ellipsis, scene, or retroversion/analepsis, but some are peculiar to the discourse of verbal narratives.
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