16 LINGUISTICS AND LITERATURE: PROSE AND POETRY
Curtis W. Hayes
As a science, linguistics is relatively new. Modern structural linguistics, for instance, is generally dated as beginning in 1933 with the publication of Leonard Bloomfield's now-classic Language. And the origin of the even newer school of the science that is called by its adherents transformational-generative linguistics may be dated from 1957, the year that Noam Chomsky revolutionized the linguistic world with his now-famous monograph Syntactic Struclures. It is a truism to say that these two schools of thought have had a great impact : Their development, and their elaboration of the theoretical nature of the activity of describing and analyzing languages, caused a greatly increased interest in applied, practical linguistics--there is, for example, the great leap forward in the teaching of foreign languages, a leap clearly derived from linguists who were using the new methods of exact description of languages.
Another practical use of these methods is in the explication and analysis of literature. Here we have one of the most recent applications of the tools of linguistic science; as Roman Jakobson observed in his remarks concluding the Ninth International Congress of Linguists, “For the first time a special section of a linguistic congress has dealt with stylistics and poetics: the study of poetry has been conceived as inseparable from linguistics and as its pertinent task.”[1]
Some literary critics have been disturbed by the application of recent linguistic techniques to the study of literature, and it is true that some linguists appear to have believed that the age-old problems of literary criticism could be solved in summary fashion by the application of these methods. It is clear today, however, that the apparent conflict between the critic and the linguist is almost always the result of misunderstanding: The critic ignores the findings of the linguist, and the linguist ignores the perceptive observations of the critic ; the linguist is eager to point out that the critic's pronouncements are too vague and too imprecise to be of much value , and the critic assumes that strict linguistic analysis of a text will destroy or seriously impair its beauty . Such a contretemps should be intolerable. Ideally both critic and linguist are sensitive and perceptive readers; and both can and should contribute to literary analysis and criticism. For example, Nils Erik Enkvist and his coauthors argue in their study Linguistics and Style,[2] that a detailed analysis of a text should not destroy the “wonder” of that text but rather should enhance it.
A number of students have attempted to explain the reason for the gulf that appears to separate the linguist from the literary critic. David Lodge, for example, suggests in his study The Language of Fiction[3] that part of the difficulty lies in a misinterpretation of the roles of linguist and critic. He says, for instance, “The discipline of linguistics will never replace literary criticism, or radically change the basis of its claims to be a useful and meaningful form of human inquiry. It is the essential characteristic of modern linguistics that it claims to be a science. It is the essential characteristic of literature that it concerns values. And values are not amenable to scientific method.”
The distinction Lodge suggests, that there is indeed a difference between literary analysis and literary verifiable data, and thus he is more concerned-with analysis. The literary student, in contrast, is primarily interested in value and thus more interested in criticism.
This is not to say that never the twain shall meet. A few scholars have successfully combined the two disciplines, and some have suggested that criticism depends first upon detailed analysis. Archibald A. Hill has been one of the more successful in combining the two. Take, for example, the way in which he moves from linguistic analysis to literary value in his now-famous “Analysis of The Windhover : An Experiment in Structural Method”[4] and in “Some Points in the Analysis of Keats’ Grecian Urn.”[5] Hill does not, in these articles, overtly make the distinction between analysis and criticism, however. He has said, in commenting upon one of his studies, “I do not know, and do not much care, whether the method I have followed is linguistic or literary. There is a reason for my indifference. I think of the two disciplines as one, and I do not believe that it is impossible to carry on both, either successively or at the same time.”
As in the eighteenth century rhetoric and poetics were combined into one discipline, so today a rapprochement of linguistic analysis and literary criticism is needed. John Spencer remarks, “Few literary scholars would suggest that literature can be satisfactorily studied without due attention to its medium, language. Nor would many linguists justify the investigation of literary language without guidance from those who devote themselves to the study of literature. There would, moreover, be a measure of agreement on both sides that the student of literature, whatever his particular interest, ought to be trained in the study of both language and literature.”[6]
Still other scholars have been concerned with the linguist's right to make analyses of literary texts. For example, Charles T. Scott, a student of literature as well as a linguist, argues in his monograph “Persian and Arabic Riddles: A Language-Centered Approach to Genre Definition”[7] that because language is the “vehicle” of literature, the linguist has the right to make literary judgments:
It can be said safely that literary texts are utterance-tokens of given languages, constructed of, and presented through, available linguistic structures. Therefore, since the linguist must necessarily operate within the domain of his discipline─the study and analysis of the structure of language and their interrelated subsystems─it is but an easy step to a position which holds that the linguist, in dealing with literary utterances, is at the same time dealing with phenomena proper to this discipline, and is consequently justified in engaging in analyses of literary texts.
I take as one premise that literature is language, and is thus amenable to linguistic analysis. I also believe that incorporating some of the techniques of linguistic analysis into the description of literary utterances will enhance the description of those texts. I think it will be useful to survey a few specific proposals for the application of these techniques, concentrating on the application of the relatively new model of linguistic description, generative-transformational (TG) grammar, to the analysis of literary utterances. Although I confine myself to this limited area of linguistic science, I do not wish it to be inferred that earlier attempts in the linguistic analysis of literary texts have been unsuccessful. On the contrary, the structural school, as well as other schools of linguistic science, have contributed immensely valuable observations about literature and its relationship to language.
Samuel Levin and James P. Thorne have incorporated the TG model of grammatical relationships in their analysis of poetic texts, and Richard Ohmann and I have used the model in the explication of the characteristics of prose style. Robert Stockwell explains the philosophical justification for generative grammars in Chapter 24 of this book, here I point out two principles of TG grammar which have an important, though an indirect, bearing on the analysis of literature.
First, a TG grammar will generate (enumerate or specify) all the grammatical sentences of a language and none of the ungrammatical ones. The grammar, in a very strict sense, characterizes the notion of the sentence. To put it simply and briefly, a TG grammar will allow a sentence such as John admires sincerity, but it will block an obvious ungrammatical sequence such as Boy the ball the kick. And it will, through the system of its rules governing co-occurrences, block a slightly deviant sentence such as Sincerity loves John. That is, the grammatical rules will not allow an abstract noun(sincerity) to be the subject of a sentence with an animate Verb--in this case loves.
Second, a TG grammar is inherently capable of accounting for deep syntactical relationships. That is, TG grammar can explain the constituent framework of all sentences (it provides a structural description for each), whether the sentence happens to be simple, compound, complex, or compound-complex. And, in addition, the grammar is able to do this within a framework which uses a finite set of rules to characterize each sentence. The importance of these generalizations will become obvious.
One of the first students of literature to incorporate TG grammar as an aid in literary analysis was Samuel Levin. He has dealt with various aspects of the explanatory power of TG grammar. In two articles, “On Automatic Production of Poetic Sequences”[8] and “Internal and External Deviation in Poetry,”[9] Levin effectively uses the framework provided by TG grammar to account for certain deviant utterances found in poetry. In “On Automatic Production” he explains how utterances such as It is a hungry dance (Wallace Stevens), Her hair's warm sibilance (Hart Crane), and Behind a face of hands (Dylan Thomas), which are characteristically poetic, would be enumerated by a generative grammar. Basing his analysis on the premise that TG grammar may be used to represent a norm of the language (that is, it specifics only grammatical utterances--ungrammatical utterances lie outside the norm), he argues that the three poetic sequences are deviations from that norm. “We are only interested,” he says, “in trying to show that certain sequences, which one would characterize in some presystematic way as being poetic, can be rationalized as violators of grammatical rules.” His principal point is that the restrictions which would disallow a sequence such as It is a hungry dance have been relaxed, and this is what one would and could expect in poetry. “In effect, then,” he observes, “what the poets have done in producing these sentences has been to suspend the grammatical restriction on co-occurrence possibilities.”
In a more recent paper, Levin concerns himself with two utterances, clearly deviant, from poems by e. e. cummings and Dylan Thomas.[10] The utterances are He danced his did and a grief ago. Levin's purpose is “to deal with sequences which, presumably, a grammar of English would not generate, sequences thus that are either ungrammatical or semigrammatical.” In the matter of grammaticality and semigrammaticality Levin follows Chomsky, who has discussed the notion of degrees of grammaticalness elsewhere. At the risk of oversimplification, the essence of the argument is that there is an area, not clearly defined, between a sentence which is unequivocally grammatical (The man hit the ball) and a sentence which is clearly ungrammatical (Man the ball the hit). The gray area in between may be represented by the sentence Sincerity loves John or the utterances which Levin deals with, He danced his did and a grief ago. In analyzing the two semigrammatical utterances from poetry, it is Levin's aim to “discuss the grammaticalness of such sequences, and… [to] introduce a procedure which, though different in operations, yields results which arc consistent with the results given by Chomsky's formulation.”
In attempting to determine the degree of grammaticalness associated with cummings’ utterances, Levin first assumes that the utterances are ungrammatical, or (following his observations in “On Automatic Production) that the utterances are in some manner deviations from the norm. He next takes into account the general nature of TG rules and hypothesizes about how these rules could be “fixed” to allow for the deviant utterances. He treats, finally, the consequences of procedure two, in that he discusses the general nature of other sequences which would be generated as a consequence of such “fixing.”
The last procedure allows Levin to measure the degree of grammaticalness associated with each of the two utterances: it “is then a function of the number of unwanted consequences ( i.e. those sentences beyond the one in question ) that the revised rule generates: the greater the number of such unwanted consequences entrained, the less grammatical is the sentence in question; the fewer such unwanted consequences the revised rule generates, the more grammatical is the sentence in question.”
In order to “fix” a grammar (that is, to revise the normal rules so that the grammar will generate the deviant utterance) there are two methods which may be used. On the one hand, the grammar may incorporate a new rule; on the other, certain co-occurrence restrictions may be relaxed. For the sequence He danced his did, using the first method, this would involve specifying the new rule NP→Verb (noun phrase may consist of verb), which would break a general grammatical rule which specifies that only N and not V may be the result of the rewriting of NP, in technical terms, NP dominates N, never V. The consequences of this new rule would be a large, perhaps infinite, number of unwanted sequences, any verb having the privilege of occurring after T (determiner). The revised grammar would then allow such unwanted sequences as my went and the had.
If the co-occurrence rules were relaxed to permit did to become a noun, the result would be identical to the results of the first method of generation, described above, in terms of the generation of a large number of unwanted sentences. If N→did, eventually the sequence T + Adj + N would obtain-- generating, in one instance, the beautiful did.
The utterance a grief ago is different from the utterance He danced his did in a number of ways. For instance, there is a rule in the normal English grammar which specifies sequences such as some time ago, a while back, a year ago, all of which are in some way related in form, if not in content, to the sequence a grief ago.
Using the formula Tx (determiner) Ny (noun) Dz (adverb) to represent the sequence a while back, Levin points out that Ny also represents, more generally, a subclass of nouns semantically defined as temporal nouns.
To permit the generation of a grief ago, the co-occurrence restrictions (which allow only Ny to be rewritten as a temporal noun) would have to be relaxed to include nouns which indicate states of mind. Therefore, the revised rule would read
By incorporating this new rule into the grammar, Levin says, the grammar will generate sequences like a happiness ago, some sorrow back, a disappointment ago.
Why is it readily perceivable to the sensitive reader, Levin asks, that the sequence a grief ago appears more grammatical than He danced his did? It must be that the two sequences differ in degree of grammaticality, and indeed they do, because the sequence lie danced his did breaks a more general rule than the sequence a grief ago. That is, for the grammar to permit the occurrence of He danced his did would require the additional rule NP→V, and since V is any verb, the addition of tins rule would break the restriction that previously disallowed any V to be an N. The rule which distinguished the class N from the class V is, moreover, a more general rule than the rule which distinguished one subclass of nouns from another. To put it another way, the sequence a grief ago violates a more specific rule (a lower-order rule) and as a consequence, the new rule would permit a smaller number of ungrammatical sequences.
The important thing, in short, is that the consequence of manipulating the rules of the grammar to include sequences analogous to a grief ago is much less extreme, in terms of unwanted sentences, than if the grammar were revised to generate sequences analogous to He danced his did.
The degree of grammaticalness associated with these sequences has an important consideration for the analysis of literary texts. Since there are no sentences paralleling the more ungrammatical He danced his did, the reader cannot extract meaning (as Levin uses the term) from the new sequence. By way of contrast, the sequence a grief ago, which is less ungrammatical, has many analogies in a normal grammar, for example a while back and some time ago; and as a result of these analogies the reader can impose a semantic interpretation on grief. Since grief is substituted for a temporal noun, the reader will perhaps think of grief implying time.
To summarize Levin's valuable contribution to the analysis of literary texts, we can say that TG grammar is a useful tool in characterizing the deviation from the norm in poetic utterances. It is also useful, though more indirectly so, in assigning semantic interpretations to those sequences which are semigraiumatical but have analogical counterparts in a normal grammar of English. Levin's work, because it is new and experimental, has not yet been fully accepted. But it has given insight into the complex relationships that we so often admire in poetry.
Richard Ohmann was probably the first scholar to suggest the feasibility of using TG grammar as a model in the analysis of prose style. In his paper “Generative Grammars and the Concept of literary Style,”[11] he points out that an idiosyncratic prose style represents a “characteristic use of language” as reflected by the “habitual and recurrent” use of certain specified grammatical patterns of the language. It is Ohmann's contention that “recent developments in generative grammar, particularly on the transformational model, promise first, to clear away a good deal of the mist from stylistic theory, and, second, to make possible a corresponding refinement in the practice of stylistic analysis.”
Sensitive readers of literature are gifted with certain insights, which Ohmann calls stylistic intuitions. These intuitions, says Ohmann, make it possible for sensitive readers, first, to identify certain passages as having been written by familiar authors and, second, to make parodies of the prose style of these writers that are recognizable as such. Ohmann posits from these facts that style must exist apart from content. That is, style consists not of the message associated with the discourse but of the grammatical patterns, or “transformations,” writers employ in expressing that message. His thesis is, briefly, that the transformations which a writer uses significantly reflect what a sensitive reader perceives as literary style. He says, moreover, that “there is at least some reason, then, to hold that a style is in part a characteristic way of deploying the transformational apparatus of a language, and to expect that transformational analysis will be a valuable aid to the description of actual style.”
Ohmann bases his analysis of literary style on the earlier model of TG grammar. He uses the TG framework to explain the differences intuitively felt to exist among writers and takes as models Ernest Hemingway, D.H. Lawrence, Henry James, and William Faulkner. He observes that each author favors certain “habitual and recurrent” grammatical transformations: Faulkner, for example, the relative-clause transformation, the conjunction transformation, and the comparison transformation.
Ohmann's procedure may be made clear by looking at his analysis of Ernest Hemingway’s prose style, impressionistically described by certain critics, Ohmann says, as the style indirect libre. The selection Ohmann examines is from Hemingway's “Soldier's Home,” and the passage reflects the characteristics of Hemingway’s style:
So his mother prayed for him and then they stood up and Krebs kissed his mother and went out of the house. He had tried so to keep his life from being complicated. Still, none of it had touched him. He felt sorry for his mother and she had made him lie. He would go to Kansas City and get a job and she would feel all right about it. There would be one more scene maybe before he got away. He would not go down to his father's office. He would miss that one. He wanted his life to go smoothly. It had just gotten going that way. Well, that was all over now, anyway. He would go over to the schoolyard and watch Helen play indoor baseball. *
The passage reflects the “recurrent and habitual use” of the following transformations:
1. The quotation, or reported-thought, transformation：
2. Indirect-discourse transformation (change of pronouns and verb tense):
He thought, “She had made me lie”→He thought that she had made him lie.
3.Deletion transformation:
He thought that she had made him lie → She had made him lie.
Hemingway's dependence upon these transformations is not altogether apparent until these transformations arc reversed and the prose passage is written without their use:
So his mother prayed for him and they stood up and Krebs kissed his mother and went out of the house. He thought this: I have tried so to keep my life from being complicated. Still, none of it has touched me. I have felt sorry for my mother and she has made me lie. I will go to Kansas City and get a job and she will feel all right about it. There will be one more scene maybe before I get away. I will not go down to my father's office. I will miss that one. I want my life to go smoothly. It has just gotten going that way. Well, that is all over now, anyway. I will go over to the schoolyard and watch Helen play indoor baseball.
Reversal of these transformations, as above, produces a style without the idiosyncratic patterns which we have commonly associated with Hemingway's writing.
Ohmann's employment of TG grammar as an aid in characterizing the notion of literary style and in capturing the differences which exist among the diverse prose styles of Hemingway, Faulkner, James, and Lawrence has been both perceptive and illuminating. In a manner of speaking, Ohmann's analysis is dependent upon establishing qualitative differences among these authors. Each author characteristically employs certain transformation in the language, no writer uses all, but only a small number, of the grammatical possibilities available to him.
I have also used the transformational model to indicate syntactical relationships in an attempt to explain intuitive responses to certain writers. Although I have used TG grammar as an experiment in establishing certain measurable correlates between the prose styles of two diverse authors (Edward Gibbon and Ernest Hemingway), I have been more interested in the larger problem of establishing more general attributes of eighteenth-century prose style. The eighteenth century has long been noted for a characteristic prose style, and it is generally held today that certain eighteenth-century authors exhibit a remarkable similarity of style. There is a great deal of similarity, for instance, between the prose styles of Edward Gibbon and Samuel Johnson; and it would appear upon First impression that the prose of these authors does not reflect qualitative differences. If we intuitively distinguish between Johnson and Gibbon, then this difference must be quantitative. The bases, that is, for this distinction may lie in the varying numbers and types of transformations used. In other words, Johnson may be “habitual and recurrent” in his use of some transformations, Gibbon in others.
The study of eighteenth-century prose style is important in another respect, for in the prose style of no other period do we find so many impressionistic labels. The prose of Edward Gibbon, for example, is almost always described as being “grand,” “complex,” and “ornate.” There is a measure of truth associated with these labels, and I am sure that Gibbon's style exhibits degrees of complexity, grandness, and ornateness. The linguist's task, however, is to determine if there are attributes in Gibbon's prose which might account for these impressions. It has been my thesis that syntactical patterns or transformations can in great measure account for them.
My method of analysis can be viewed largely as the procedure of taking a textual sentence and “rewriting” it into a series of simple source sentences. These sentences may or may not be kernel or minimal sentences. In the nomenclature of the traditional grammarian, complex and compound sentences are the results of bringing together two or more sentences into a more complicated or complex sentence. And, in general, the number of transformations employed and the types of transformations used to build the textual sentence reflect syntactical style. Analysis of a textual sentence should make this procedure clear. The sentence from Gibbon's Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire
Their discontents were secretly fomented by Laetus, their praefect, who found, when it was too late, that his new emperor would reward a servant, but would not be ruled by a favourite.
can bea nalyzed into the source sentence
1. Laetus secretly fomented their discontents.
2. Laetus was their praefect.
3．Laetus found NP2-Adv T.
4. It was too late then.
5. His new emperor would reward a servant.
6. A favourite would not rule his new emperor.
The transformations are manipulations which ultimately lead to the textual sentence. The source sentences can be thought of as the input sentences:
1. Passive transformation (of source sentence 1): Their discontents were secretly fomented by Lactus.
2a. Relative-clause transformation (of source sentence 2): who was their praefect.
2b. Deletion (ellipsis) of relative (who) and “be” (of source sentence 3): their praefect.
3. Relative-clause transformation (of source sentence 3): who found NP2─Adv T.
Adverb-shift transformation: who found, Adv T, .NP2
4. WH transformation (adverbial) (of source sentence 3): when it was too late.
5. Factive (that) transformation (of source sentence 5) that his new emperor would reward a servant.
6a. Negative transformation (of source sentence 6): A favourite would not rule his new emperor.
6b. Passive transformation: His new emperor would not be ruled by a favourite.
6c. Conjunctive transformation for 5 and 6: source sentence 5 and source sentence 6, with deletion
equals textual sentence.
From the results of this sketchy analysis we tentatively posit that intuitive impressions reflect various degrees of grammatical or transformational processes. For example, “ornateness,” traditionally employed to describe styles which exhibit the schemes of balance and antithesis, is reflected by Gibbon's use of a specific transformation, exemplified in 6c. A larger sample would undoubtedly reinforce our impression that this grammatical pattern is indeed “habitual and recurrent” in Gibbon's prose style. “Grandness” and “complexity” may in tills limited analysis be represented by instances of embedding (relative-clause, adverbial-clause, and factive, “that,” transformations) and in the total number of source sentences -6- within the textual sentence.
One such example does not make a case, and a much larger and statistically viable sample would be needed to arrive at any substantial conclusions. But this example does at least suggest that analyses of this type would be beneficial in investigating prose style.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
David DeCamp. “Sequence of Tenses, or Was James Thurber the First Transformational Grammarian?” College Composition and Communication, XVIII (February 1967), 7-13.
Nils Eric Enkvist, John Spencer, and Michael J. Gregory. Linguistics and Style. Oxford University Press, 1964.
Roger Fowler. “Linguistics, Stylistics; Criticism?” Lingua, XVI (April 1966), 153-165.
Morris Halle and Samuel Jay Keyser. “Chaucer and the Study of Prosody,” College English, XXVIII (December 1966), 187-219.
Curtis W. Hayes. “Literary Analysis and Linguistics: A Study in the Prose Styles of Edward Gibbon and Samuel Johnson.” Paper delivered before the fortieth Annual Meeting of the Linguistic Society of America, Chicago, Illinois, December 30,1965.
Curtis W. Hayes. “A Study in Prose Styles: Edward Gibbon and Ernest Hemingway,” Texas Studies in Literature and Language, VII, No.4 (Winter 1966), 371-386.
William O. Hendricks. “Linguistics and the Structural Analysis of Literary Texts.” Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation. University of Illinois, 1965.
William O. Hendricks. Review, Language, XLII (September 1966), 639-648.
This review is of Samuel R. Levin, Linguistic Structures in Poetry, Janua Linguarum, Series Minor, No.23. Mouton, 1962.
Archibald A. Hill. “An Analysis of The Windhover: An Experiment in Structural Method,” PMLA, LXX, No.5 (December 1955), 968-978.
Archibald A. Hill. “Some Points in the Analysis of Keats' Grecian Urn.” Forthcoming.
Archibald A. Hill. “The Windhover Revisited: Linguistic Analysis of Poetry Reasscssed,” Texas Studies in Literature and Language, VII, No4 (Winter 1966), 349-359.
Samuel R. Levin. “Internal and External Deviation in Poetry,” Word, XXI (August 1965), 225-237.
Samuel R. Levin. Linguistic Structures in Poetry, Janua Linguarum, Series Minor, No.23. Mouton, 1962.
Samuel R. Levin. “On Automatic Production of Poetic Sequences,” Texas Studies in Literature and Language, V, No.1 (Spring 1963), 138-146.
David Lodge. The Language of Fiction. Columbia University Press, 1966.
HoraceG.Lunt,ed. Proceedings of the Ninth International Congress of Linguists. Mouton, 1964. See section entitled “Stylistics,” pp. 294 ff. See also Roman Jakobson's closing remarks, “Results of the Congress,” pp.1135 ff.
Louis Tonko Milic. “A Quantitative Approach to the Style of Jonathan Swift.” Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation. Columbia University, 1963.
Richard Ohmann. “Generative Grammars and the Concept of Literary Style,” Word, XX (December 1964) 423-439.
Richard Ohmann. “Literature as Sentences,” College English, XXVII (January 1966), 261-267.
Thomas J. Roberts, compiler, “Literary-Linguistics: A Bibliography, 1964-1961,” Texas Studies in Literature and Language, IV, No.1 (Spring 1962), 625-629.
Charles T. Scott. “Persian and Arabic Riddles: A Language-Centered Approach to Genre Definition,” International Journal of American Linguistics, XXXI; pt.2 (October 1965).
James P. Thorne. “Stylistics and Generative Grammars,” Journal of Linguistics,I No.1 (April 1965) 49-59.
* Excerpt from “Soldier's Home” is reprinted with the permission of Charles Scribner’s Sons from In Our Time by Ernest Hemingway. Copyright 1925 Charles Scribner’s Sons; renewal copyright 1953 Ernest Hemingway.
[1] In Horace G. Lunt, ed., Proceedings of the Ninth International Congress of Linguists. Mouton, 1964, pp.1135 ff.
[2] Nils Erik Enkvist, John Spencer，and Michael J. Gregory. Linguistics and Style. Oxford University Press, 1964.
[3] David Lodge. The Language of Fiction. Columbia University Press, 1966.
[4] PMLA,LXX,No.5(December 1955), 968-978
[5] Forthcoming,in a volume of studies for Rudolph Willord, University of Texas.
[6] Enkvist, Spencer, and Gregory. Op. cit. vii.
[7] International Journal of American Linguistics, XXI, Pt.2 (October 1965).
[8] Texas Studies in Liternlure and Language, V, No. I (Spring 1963), 138-146.
[9] Word, XXI (August 1965), 225-237.
[10] Samuel Levin. "Poetry and Grammaticalness," in S. Levin and S. Chatman, eds. Essay on the Langunge of Literature. Boston (1967), pp.224-230.
[11] Word, XX (December 1964), 423-439.
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