THE
FACULTY OF PHILOLOGY
Department of English Philology
Tense
variations in Bulgarian narratives and their translational equivalents in
English
/based on Y.Yovkov’s short stories
“Shibil” and “Koshuta” and their English translations/
SUPERVISOR:
2003,
The aim of this Master’s Thesis is
not to study any of the aspects of the Theory of Translation, which have been extensively
discussed by various scholars such as Nida, Catford, Newmark, and Barhudarov.
It does not focus on different approaches in translation (translation as a
communicative act or a decision process) and methodology. It also disregards
such issues as translation of lexical items, idioms and other phraseological
units and their preservation in the process of translation. The question that
this paper raises and attempts to answer is: how are the alternations between past and present within the frame of the narrative, positioned in the past or the
present, (a peculiarity
of Yovkov’s works) ‘transferred’ in the English variant? In this respect it is
a grammatical, more specifically a morphological, treatment of the
possibilities that are open to Bulgarian and English present and past tenses in
fiction. It is a contrastive research that dwells extensively on the
idiosyncrasies of Bulgarian and English temporal systems. The analysis is based
exclusively on Yordan Yovkov’s prose and the temporal variations are viewed
with respect to their realization in fiction, or to be more specific – in
narratives.
Why
Yovkov? Yovkov is a difficult author, both for reading and for translation,
but the reward is worth the struggle. Yovkov’s style and language (specifically
in the Legends of Stara Planina) are
based on folklore, legends, songs, myths and chronicles. The world that he
creates is one of magic, love and hope, where many layers of meanings
intermingle and fuse into one another. Archaisms, Turkish borrowings, heavy
syntactic constructions and long sentences – all these create his unique style.
Still, what makes Yovkov a mythmaker of that rank is his ability to manipulate
the dimensions of time - something which few writers have dared to do. When we
read Yovkov, we transfer in a magical world where we have the powers to be
there and here, near and far, observers and passive listeners at the same time.
The author maintains this unbelievable conjuration by means of the interplay of
tenses within his narratives.
Throughout the thesis we will attempt
to answer the questions: is tense alternation between present and past an
established stylistic device in English as it is in Bulgarian? Can we say that
translators are justified to look for direct transference between the two
languages? Bulgarian and English are rather different and what is typical of
the one, is quite uncommon and rarely met in the other. What is the case with
tense alternation in fiction? How are translators dealing with the two temporal
systems and their aspect categories when translating such a challenging author
as Yovkov? Are they looking for some parallel structures or any compensatory
mechanisms? Do they comply with the specific features of the grammar of their
language? Most importantly, do they
manage to preserve the unique, even ubiquitous, stylistic effects that Yovkov
creates through his tense variation combined with specific aspect of the verbs?
Besides answering these controversial
questions, we try to tackle some theoretical points as well. The two languages
are on the border between syntheticity and analyticity. Yet the Bulgarian
morphology is richer, its tense and narrative systems are more complicated and
the verb structures are encumbered with the Slavic phenomenon, called aspect,
where almost every single verb is characterized, specifically in Bulgarian,
with prefective, imperfective or iterative aspect (Note: In this paper we shall
adopt the functional-semantic perspective of aspect, namely we shall treat it as
a three-member category. The
Bulgarian functional-semantic school of linguistics has termed the members
“imperfective”, “perfective” and “iterative”[1]. We shall preserve the same terminology
in English. This issue shall be discussed in details below.) In this respect
the situation in
English differs drastically from that in Bulgarian. It has
poorer morphology; yet its tense system is made more complicated by the
so-called “progressive” and “perfective” aspects. Aspect necessarily co-exists
with tense in English. This side of grammar has been studied by many linguists,
like Quirk, Duškova, Jespersen, and Palmer. Some of their views are examined
below.
Here, we will inevitably raise the
question of Praesens Historicum, or the so-called ‘Historical Present’ that is
used when relating past activities to achieve immediacy and vividness of the
narrative. This use of the present tense is intricately connected with aspect
and tense variation in Bulgarian. How does this fact influence the choice of
the translators? Wilfson and Schiffrin have developed an excellent study of the
tense variation in spoken narratives in English. Quirk and Leech also explore
the use of the historical present in conversational styles. Indeed, it is also
widely spread in the oral tradition in Bulgarian and other languages. The
sociolinguistic side of the problem, however, is utterly outside the scope of
this paper. We are interested in the “combinatory” use of present and past
tenses in fictional narratives. We try to apply these views and theories and
justify the choices the translators made. Tense alternations are typical not
only for colloquial oral style, but also for fiction in Bulgarian. Is it so in
English?
This paper is not an attempt to
evaluate the solutions of the different translators. It will only try to
highlight some of the grammatical weak points, or “bottlenecks”, if we use S.
Nikolov’s[2]
metaphorical expression, of translations from Bulgarian into English. It is
evident that this direction of translation is much more cumbersome than
translating from English into Bulgarian. Often Bulgarian translators would be
influenced (sometimes subconsciously) by Bulgarian structures and forms. For these
reasons the corpus that will
be used as a basis for our
contrastive study consists only of translations made by people whose mother
tongue is English and who have probably made better decisions when grammatical
problems are to be solved (especially if we consider it in the light of
Chomsky’s theory of language faculty). The translations that we investigate are
made by Marco Mincoff (1965), Michael Holman (1981) and John Burnip (1989).
However, due to the specificity of the topic in question here, there exists
always the danger that translators are liable to neglect this peculiar issue
(i.e. the temporal alternations), underestimating its stylistic effect. As a
proof, we might quote Michael Holman, who, in a letter to the author of this
paper, wrote:
“I have to admit that I have never
reflected greatly on the linguistic implications of tense choices”.
Why is it so? Temporal variation is
not an uncommon phenomenon in English, as we shall see below, in the next
chapters. Being one of the most important stylistic effects which Yovkov
achieves through linguistic means, it is almost impossible to imagine that any
translator who is well aware of his work might ignore it. Does it mean that our
questions will remain unanswered?
This paper consists of five chapters
– study of the temporal system, aspectuality and tense variation in Bulgarian
prose, outline of tense system and tense variations in English, the uses of the
historical present, sequence of tenses and finally an analysis of the temporal
alternations in a couple of short stories from one of Yovkov’s masterpieces Legends of Stara Planina and their
translational equivalents. The thesis ends by summarizing the general
tendencies in the analyzed material and draws some conclusions.
II.1.
Bulgarian temporal system and the category of aspect. Functional-semantic interpretation
of the problem
As has
already been mentioned, this study adopts the terminology and categories
introduced by the functional-semantic linguistics and also uses the ideas of
its followers and supporters A. V. Bondarko, S. Ivanchev, I. Kutzarov, V.
Marovska, Kr. Chakarova, etc.
First of all,
it would be necessary to dwell upon the temporal system in Bulgarian. There
have been many attempts at dividing the temporal system since Bulgarian has
very complicated and difficult tense matrix. However, for reasons of time and
space, we shall employ only those terms and ideas that deal with past and
present since they are at the focus of the paper.
In his work, The Philosophy of Grammar and
particularly in the chapter “Time and Tense”, Otto Jespersen takes the concept
of time and divides it into nine “time-indications” expressed by verbal forms,
i.e. “tenses” (64-88). The Bulgarian grammatical tradition has also adopted
this division, based on Latin grammar. Yet, the terms that linguists applied in
the last decades were rather tedious and complicated. Recently, theoreticians
have adopted the Greek and Latin terminology, arriving at the following
classification: praesens, aorist, imperfect, perfect, plusquamperfect, futurum,
futurum praeteriti, futurum exactum, and futurum exactum praeteriti. What we
are concerned with are the praesens,
the aorist and the imperfect, which we shall review piecemeal.
II.1.1. Aorist and Imperfect[3]. Aspect in contemporary Bulgarian language.
As Jespersen
points out, there is a need to differentiate between two kinds of preterit,
characterizing Greek, Latin and Romanic languages, namely the aorist and the
imperfect (71-4). Bulgarian language is no exception and it also differentiates
between two “past” or “preterit” forms – the aorist and the imperfect. What is
the difference between the two? Here is Jespersen’s opinion:
“The aorist carries the narrative on,
it tells us what happened next, while the imperfect lingers over the conditions
as they were at that time and expatiates on them with more or less prolixity.
One tense gives movement, the other a pause ...... it is a difference in the
speed of the narrative; if the speaker wants in this presentation of the facts
to hurry on towards the present moment, he will choose the aorist; if, on the
other hand, he lingers and takes a look round, he will use the imperfect. This
tense-distinction is really, therefore, a tempo-distinction...” (ibid.)
Understandably, Jespersen perceives the imperfect as endowed with
emotional colouring. In addition he considers that the imperfect denotes a
habitual action in some past period. Therefore, we may include the idea of
repetition next to the time-notion. Jespersen terms the two sides of the
imperfect as “habitual imperfect and descriptive imperfect”(ibid.). Hence, we
may say that the two forms are not only formally, but also semantically
different.
Unfortunately, things are much more complicated in
Bulgarian. Why? Due to the Slavic linguistic phenomenon ASPECT, the temporal
system is not an autonomous mechanism. Every single verb (with few exceptions)
is characterized with the category of aspect in the Slavic languages and their
combining together gives rise to numerous meanings and effects. But let us examine this point elaborately.
The
introduction of the paper and the opening of the present chapter have
explicitly clarified the fact that this work will follow the ideas of
functional-semantic grammar. The latter has many advantages for a comparative
and contrastive study (which is what our work aims at). It gives us an
opportunity to compare languages with dissimilar grammatical structures and
categories since it looks for all alternative methods to express a certain
grammatical meaning. It views not only the centre, or nucleus (the truly
grammatical category), but also the periphery (all other means which express
the same grammatical meaning). Functional semantics, particularly its most
important representative Bondarko, insists upon the term “functional-semantic
field of aspectuality” (qtd. in Danchev 171). For Bondarko and his followers,
aspectuality is a far better term then the fuzzy “aspect”, because it is a
category of the deep structure and has various exponents, such as
morphological, syntactical, lexical, etc. (ibid.). So aspectuality is often
presented as a cell, consisting of a nucleus and a periphery. The nucleus is
the morphological category, whereas the periphery encompasses “all other means
of expressing aspectulaity” (Danchev 171-2). Specifically, functional-semantic
linguistics treats Bulgarian aspect as lexico-grammatical category. [Note: Due
to the lack and inadequacy of the necessary terms in English, we shall attempt
to translate as close as possible many of them and where necessary will give
the Bulgarian equivalent in footnotes. The three aspects naturally exist only
within the category of the verb, so we will speak of perfective, imperfective
and iterative verbs, meaning that the verbs are “endowed” with the respective
aspect]. Traditionally linguists defined only two members of the category of
aspect – imperfective (which was of
two types: primary and secondary) and
perfective.[4]
However, there has been a drastic change in the theoretical views as far as
aspect is concerned. Owing to the work of Svetomir Ivanchev, Ivan Kutzarov,
Vera Marovska, Krasimira Chakarova and others, it became possible to
distinguish between three members (not two as was assumed). Thus, we say that
Bulgarian aspect is a three-member category[5].
The triad that Chakarova distinguishes in “The Essence of Secondary
Imperfectization” is as follows: imperfective
(different from the tense imperfect), perfective
(also not identical with the grammatical tense perfect) and iterative (derived, by means of a
suffix, from the perfective). The perfective and the imperfective enter a
privative opposition (if we use Jakobson’s terms), namely completeness: incompleteness
– e.g. Řpisha - napisha (пиша
- напиша).
The iterative and the
perfective aspect enter a privative opposition, too i.e. iterativeness:
non-iterativeness – e.g. napisvam
– napisha (написвам – напиша). The iterative derives its name from
the fact that it is the sum total of n-times the perfective verb, namely it
expresses repetitive action (morphologically it “contains” the root of the
perfective verb). However, this countless sequence of perfective verbs (which
form the iterative) is imaginary; it is latent. Depending on the context, it
may or may not “actualize” certain links of the chain[6].
Moreover, it appears that the perfective and the iterative form a morphological
category, marked by the morphological markers: -a-, -ava-, -uva, etc. (-а-,
-ава-, -ува-) and the
marked member is the iterative aspect, i.e. it has the feature
[+iterativeness]. We come up
with the conclusion that the functional-semantic field of aspectuality is
characterized with two categories – one is lexico-grammatical and the other is
morphological (Chakarova 102-116). Still, when it is not obligatory to specify
whether the verb is imperfective or iterative, we shall tend to use the term
imperfective as a generic one.
How are these
three members of the category of aspect unified with tense, particularly with
aorist, imperfect and praesens? In her article “Temporal Quantifiers in
Contemporary Bulgarian Language”, Kr. Chakarova gathers supporting material
from many linguists such as Lindsted, Atanasov, Stankov, etc. and proves that
the praesens, the
aorist and the imperfect are not neutral in terms of quantity (126). She
continues by emphasizing the importance of the aspect in this respect. Briefly,
we will outline her conclusions, which will eventually help us in the analysis
of the corpus and the decisions
the translators make so as to approach closer the original text.
The
linguist begins with the aorist. According to her, the perfective verb in the
aorist expresses only non-frequentness, singleness. In this way, the narrative which is
built up of such forms will imply sequence in the events or actions and will
carry the narrative on. As such it is the preferred tense for narration in the
plane of reminiscence (see next subchapter). Secondly, it is possible for the
imperfective verbs to be in the aorist, but it (the tense) does not “carry” the
narrative on. It sums up the actions within given temporal boundaries. The
verbs usually imply recurrent states.
Next, Chakarova considers the imperfective (incl. iterative) verbs in the imperfect
tense. The result is obvious - a repetitive
meaning. It is often combined with adverbials such as always, sometimes, often, etc. However, this meaning may give way
to one of singleness, especially in the presence of adverbials such as then, yesterday. Thus, we may say that
the context and the surrounding environment determine whether the meaning will
be one of repetition or singleness. Finally, she concentrates upon the
combination of the perfective verbs and the imperfect. Traditionally, their
meaning is associated with plurality
or recurrence of the action, yet
Chakarova proves that this meaning is the opposite, i.e. singularity and it is typically never used on its own. In
conclusion, Chakarova gives her reasons in support of Kutzarov’s idea that
there is actually no opposition between aorist and imperfect. The difference
between them is predetermined by the aspect. Re-echoing Jespersen’s view,
Chakarova continues by saying that the main function of the aorist is to lead
the narrative forward, whereas the imperfect has only supportive role, it
serves as its (of the aorist) background. (126-33). Then what is the function
of Praesens Historicum in narratives?
II.1.2. Praesens Historicum in
contemporary Bulgarian language
Having looked through the preterit tenses,
we may now turn to the present tense, or the praesens (a term used extensively
by Bulgarian grammarians). Naturally, the specific use of the praesens that is
in the focus of our attention is its peculiar use in narratives together with
the aorist and the imperfect, its reference to past activities, namely the
so-called Praesens Historicum (PH).
Before
studying the various meanings and uses of PH, it is important to explain what
is the interconnection between PH and aspect in Bulgarian since both are the
major points in this analysis? In a lengthy survey of the iterative aspect
called “Development of the Uses of Secondary Imperfective Verbs in Modern
Bulgarian Language”, K. Ivanova views a large corpus of examples, dating from
the middle of the 19th century and expanding to the 1960s
(the time of the article). She establishes, by means of her data, a certain
tendency in Bulgarian secondary imperfective verbs, or as we called them
iterative verbs. She proves that throughout the years the use of iterative
verbs has increased immensely, particularly at the end of the period she
studies. She also notes down a connection between the number of iterative verbs
and the style, in which they occur, namely that journalistic style,
biographical books and historical accounts have always employed the largest
numbers of iterative verbs. The belle-letters style is characterized with much
smaller figures. Why is it so? In these styles and genres (journalese,
biographies and histories), there has been a tendency to use PH (together with
other tenses as well, i.e. we have temporal variations). Hence the subsequent
introduction of PH as a narrative plane in fiction, led to the frequency of
iterative verbs in Bulgarian (once, they were used more rarely). The linguist
concludes that the existence of iterative verbs and their wide usage is a
certain prerequisite for the frequency of PH in Bulgarian (46-92). This fact
leads us to view not only the regularity of occurrences of PH, but also its
functions in narratives.
L.
Andreychin in his chapter “Function and Use of PH” comments on the stylistic
effects of PH. He insists that PH has
greater visual impact on the
readers and adds more
vividness to the narrative. As a result, the readers perceive the actions as
though they have been performed immediately in front of them. Hence, this tense
is widely used and may extend from short passages to whole stories. From a
morphological point of view, PH when used with imperfective verbs, may express completed and singular actions, which
makes it a “synonym” to the aorist of perfective verbs (116.). The latter views
are supported by Mutafchiev’s study of the Bulgarian temporal system. In his
seminal work Praesens Historicum in Bulgarian
Contemporary Language, the linguist expresses an opinion similar to that of
Andreychin, but slightly modifies it by stating that the aspect of the verbs in
PH should be iterative. Iterative PH verbs, just like perfective aorist
verbs, “carry” the narrative on. The latter are used to express completed,
successive actions. PH iterative verbs are characterized with the same function[7]
and they are logically functional synonyms of the perfective verbs used in the
aorist. Yet, a narrative does not only expatiate upon the aorist or the PH,
states Mutafchiev. There are other, secondary tenses, that arrest the movement,
sketch the picture, the background against which the main narrative tense draws
the events (27-28). Some of this “secondary” tenses may be prior or after the
main temporal scheme. Such tenses are the imperfect or the future.
But let us
go back to the focus of the present chapter, namely PH, and search for an
answer to the question: what makes possible this synonymy? How does PH replace
the aorist and the imperfect (the two main tenses used for “retelling” past
events and
activities)? The answer is simple: PH has many metaphorical
meanings, one of which is to signify past activities (Mutafchiev 31). This
transposition would have been impossible, were it not for the wide use of PH in
colloquial style (and in other styles and genres as well - see K.Ivanova’s opinion). From there, it is “transposed” into
the written language and becomes a mighty source for stylistic effects. Thus we
may say that this use of the present is metaphorical (Chakarova
“Narrative
Systems” 140) But how do we know that the time of reference is past? The aorist
and the imperfect are morphologically marked, but PH needs other means. It is
achieved through context (when the context by means of other verbs signals that
the actions are in the past) or through adverbial modifiers (e.g. yesterday, last night, then).
(Mutafchiev 32) “Thus,” Mutafchiev, concludes, “a narrative about past events
may be carried out by means of two temporal planes” – one is the plane of the
past (aorist), the other is the plane of the present (PH) (ibid.). It becomes
clear that the temporal planes both refer to the past. In both the past is presented as a memory, a reminiscence. But the
plane of PH presents this memory in a more visual, picturesque way, PH creates
the “fictional illusion” that the action is being performed in front of us, at
the moment of speaking. It is the “live historical present”, in Bondarko’s
words (qtd in Chakarova 140). When we use PH, the past memory is pushed towards the back, whereas
when narrating in the plane of the aorist, the past memory is of primary
importance, it is at the focus. Naturally, Mutafchiev defines these two planes
as a plane of visualization and a plane of reminiscence, respectively
(33). We have to bear in mind that there are two more narrative planes that have
been neglected for a long time by Bulgarian linguists. According to Ivanchev,
Kutzarov and Chakarova, these two planes should be considered as two separate
categories – the plane of the inference, or the conclusion,
as Ivanchev terms it and the plane of
the re-narrative[8].
The limited scope of this work does not allow us to concentrate on these two
planes. We will focus
mainly on the transitions past - present, i.e
those cases in which the present functions as a narrative metaphor or
transposition (Chakarova “Narrative Systems” 134-142 and Stankov 577-586).
What exactly is a temporal plane (Ivanchev 122) or sphere (a broader term introduced by Chakarova)?
According to Kr. Chakarova’s article “Narrative Systems in Contemporary
Bulgarian Language”, a narrative/temporal plane is “a well-established
linguistic system of tenses, which are always used together and are organized
along the logical line of a narrative” (134). Some of these tenses are the
building elements of the “central storyline of the narrative” (Andreychin qtd.
in Chakarova 134), and others express such temporal relationships as
anteriority, posteriority, sequence, simultaneity of the verbal actions. As an
example, Chakarova quotes the plane of the reminiscence, where the temporal net
is represented as follows (similar to what we read in Mutafchiev 31, 59):
Tense
that expresses sequence – Aorist + perfective aspect (It has already
been discussed above)
Tense
that expresses simultaneity – Imperfect
Tense
that expresses anteriority - Plusquamperfect
Tense
that expresses posteriority – Futurum Preteriti/Futurum Exactum Preteriti
And the plane of visualization is characterized
by the following tenses:
Tense
that expresses sequence – Praesens Historicum + itertive aspect (It has
already been discussed above)
Tense
that expresses simultaneity – Praesens Historicum + imperfective aspect
Tense
that expresses anteriority - Perfect
Tense
that expresses posteriority – Futurum
These tenses form a large system of
narrative planes, which can “narrate” past, present and future events. Thus we
come up with three temporal spheres, which Chakarova calls sphere of the
present or praesens, sphere of the
future, also futurum and sphere of
the past or the
preterit.
What the present study is intersted in is the sphere of the preterit and the transpositions, or variations
of temporal or narrative planes that occur within their boundaries.
II.2. Temporal variation in Bulgarian narratives
In this
subchapter, we shall explicate the question of the coexistence of various
temporal planes within one single sphere – that of the preterit (which is at
the core of the present discussion) by summarizing the postulates of Lilov,
Mutafchiev and Chakarova.
Bulgarian prose is etxremely rich in examples illustrating various temporal
(or narrative) transitions in its narrative systems. “It is only natural,” Mutafchiev
writes in “Tense Variations in a Narrative of Past Events”, “that they [the temporal planes – my note]
merge and follow one another in one and the same narrative” (309). There are
two important transitions within the sphere of the preterit that interest us.
One is the alternation past > present,
i.e. the plane of visualization slips into the plane of reminiscence. Another
temporal transition which stands at the centre of this analysis is the opposite of the above-mentioned one,
namely present > past, i.e. the main narrative plane is the plane
of visualization, into which the plane of reminiscence is situated. When the two planes interweave, there
are usually numerous stylistic effects. The former transition may express
vividness, or indicate a pause for a description, and achieve a cinematographic
effect. The latter alteration may be employed for retrospection, author’s
comments; it may introduce a change in the mood, action, storyline, etc. (see
Andreychin, 115-120 and Mutafchiev, 312-315).
Why is it that we
select the sphere of the preterit for the main scope of this analysis? One of
the reasons that determines our preference has already been stated – temporal
variations within the preterit sphere are rather common for Bulgarian fiction.
Secondly, since the sphere of the preterit is the “most natural territory” of
the narrative, it has the widest range of temporal systems in use (Chakarova
“Narrative Systems” 135). “This rich material for synonymy,” Chakarova claims,
“inevitably has the greatest potential for stylistic effects (ibid.)”.
Nevertheless, we should not overlook the question of the narrative norm, i.e. those transpositions within the narrative
whose use and application are “objectively justified” (140). As an example,
Chakarova mentions a narrative in the plane of visualization, where the main
tense of narration used is PH. If the writer decides to introduce retrospection
in the course of the narrative, then it is only natural that s/he will employ
the tenses that are found in the plane of the reminiscence. Still, in Bulgarian
prose writings, the cases when there are no objective reasons for the temporal
transitions are quite a few. It is only then that we search for stylistic
effects (ibid.).
In the article “Tense Variation in a
Narrative of Past Events”, R. Mutafchiev peruses the possibilities open to the
two major planes of narration and their “mixing” together. In the plane of
reminiscence, we often find the aorist of perfective verbs. Mutafchiev points
out that this peculiarity of the plane has several results: it places the
events in their chronological succession; lends a dynamic, lively character to
the story and “pushes it towards its logical end” (Vinogradov, qtd. in
Mutafchiev 309). This plane disregards the trivial, unimportant details and
aims at its gist, so to say. The narrator can easily reconstruct “lost or
forgotten” events and activities. The plane of reminiscence enables the
narrator to present the separate stages of the story in a mixed order and then
go back to different episodes by means of retrospection (coincides with
Chakarova’s views of the narrative norm). Yet, the plane of visualization does
not allow such “retrospections”. When the narrative is in the plane of
visualization, i.e. we use the PH, the event is presented as it develops in
terms of time and space. It may neither slow down, nor may it move faster. This
plane follows every single moment and every single detail and announces it. The
events are presented the way they are “seen” by the narrator. If s/he wants to
“refer back” to some moment, the narrator needs the plane of reminiscence.
Mutafchiev’s article continues by outlining the main reasons for the occurrence
of temporal alternations. Firstly, the linguist views the present > past alternation. On the one hand, owing to certain
stylistic and structural reasons, the narrator may decide to leave some parts
of the story and then go back to them, using the plane of the reminiscence,
because they [these parts] are “past” as regards the moment of narrating. On
the other hand, the plane of visualization usually encompasses longer
descriptive syntagms whose appearance in the narrative should be motivated.
This motivation or clarification emerges from the sporadic author’s or
character’s comments, situated in the plane of reminiscence. Generally, the
plane of visualization presents the event in its development, whereas the plane
of reminiscence displays the psychological impact of the event over its
observers, or eyewitnesses. Furthermore, when the author introduces a new stage
in the development of the narrative, it may be in the plane of the
reminiscence. Hence, it accelerates the narration and is ordinarily signalled
by adverbs like suddenly, and then,
etc.
Secondly, Mutafchiev concentrates
upon the other transition – past >
present. The peculiarities of this alternation are closely connected with
the specific features of Praesens Historicum. As we have already seen, PH
visualizes and concretizes the narrative. It is this “concretization” that
stands at the bottom of the transition between the two planes and is a mighty
source of stylistic effects. Hence, the narrator leaves the plane of the
reminiscence and favours the more picturesque and graphic plane of
visualization. This “concretization” may be in different forms – it may give
detailed description of a general notion or word. Thus the meaning becomes more
explicit. Very often, the writer uses the plane of reminiscence as the
background or the frame and then resorts to the plane of visualization to attract
the attention of the readers, to make the event more conspicuous and vivid. The
camera of the narrator “zooms in” the picture and it comes closer to the
readers.
Finally, we shall stop over another
noteworthy article – Lilov’s “ The Expressiveness of Tenses in Fiction” where
he scrutinizes the works of two major Bulgarian writers – Elin Pelin and Yordan
Yovkov . In the introduction, he states that there is a high potential for
stylistic effects in categories where they (the effects) are least expected
(11). Such is the case with the tense system. We shall focus on his
considerations about Yovkov, as he is the writer we shall also be discussing
later on. Generally, Yovkov tends to linger with his characters, to be a
witness of their actions, to follow them everywhere, to regard nature, their
inner thoughts, and the background. As a result, his narrative is characterized
by the extensive use of the imperfect that unquestionably enables him to make
his character or the description he draws more prominent, because we (as
readers) can follow them in their thorough development (18-9). Moreover, Lilov
believes that Yovkov is never an objective observer in his narratives. He is
quite subjective, which he accomplishes again by means of the imperfect. As an
illustration, Lilov quotes the way he portrays his characters - in a static
posture and his nature – not as an objectively existing picture but as a part
of the character’s inner perceptions and experience, as the experience itself.
Lilov terms this attitude of the narrator as a “subjective contemplation” and
remarks that this device suggests that the facts are presented not from the
standpoint of the narrator/author, but from that of the character. This can be
seen in the tenses he prefers and their combination, i.e. the changes of the
temporal planes. Lilov takes as an example the moments when Yovkov uses PH.
“The use of present or past tense is not conditioned by the need to
differentiate one plane from another” (20). The reason he would do that is
rather a cinematographic one – at certain moments the writer decides to come
closer or to draw back so as to make more distinct and concrete a given part of
the action. We may say that Yovkov uses PH to introduce the new perspective and
concretize (see Mutafchiev) the new “theme” in the narrative (21). Hence, it is
clear that the writer does not change his viewpoint, but only draws closer to
the object/picture of observation and describes it. The action is suspended in
the air until the author goes back to the past tense that moves the development
of the narrative forward (ibid.).
In conclusion we may say that the
flexibility of the Bulgarian temporal system in past time narratives is due to many
factors, but the one that plays the most decisive role is aspect. As we saw in
K. Ivanova’s article, and also in Andreychin, Mutafchiev and Chakarova, the
iterative verbs are closely linked with the frequency of PH. The latter has
become one of the major planes of narration in Bulgarian together with the
aorist. Thus, aspect and aspectuality turn into a determining factor for the
various temporal variations in Bulgarian. Consequently, we come to the
question: if this is so, what is the situation in English? It does not possess
such an aspectual system, nor does it possess similar formal markers of
aspectuality. Aspect and aspectuality are expressed by completely different
means. In this sense, since aspect has not been grammticalized (as it is in
Bulgarian), does it mean that PH will be a rare phenomenon in English? Does it
mean that there will be no tense variations? The ensuing review of the English
categories of tense and aspect will try to answer these controversial
questions.
III. SOME SPECIFIC FEATURES OF THE ENGLISH TEMPORAL
SYSTEM AND THE PROBLEM OF THE ENGLISH ASPECT. ENGLISH NARRATIVES
III.1. Some specific features of the English temporal system. The English
aspect. Contrasts and similarities with Bulgarian
So far we have looked through the
characteristics of the Bulgarian temporal system and its relation to
aspectuality. For the needs of our contrastive analysis, we have to survey the
English grammar in the same respect. Thus we may probably find an answer to the
question: Is there an “equivalence in difference” (Jakobson 56) between the two
languages?
The English temporal system is
endowed with great polysemy, i.e. one and the same tense carries a lot of
different meanings and can express limitless number of nuances and shades of
senses. This indisputable fact, more or less, compensates the lack of true
aspectual system (especially when compared to Slavic languages). The tenses
that we are interested in are those used in narratives of past events – namely,
past simple, past progressive and past perfect. Occasionally there might be
sporadic references to “would/used to + infinitive” constructions and the
present simple and present progressive. The abundance of narrative planes and
their unrestrained joining together in Bulgarian is usually associated with
aspectuality and more precisely with the iterative aspect (see above). English
verbs are deprived of such an aspectual system, characteristic of Slavic
languages. There are no fixed formal markers to signal their aspect. Bulgarian
verbs have many grammaticalized meanings, as is the case with iterative verbs
and their aspect-changing suffixes. Most of the semantic features of the
English verb are not grammaticalized due to its weak morphology and its
tendency towards analyticity.
Before plunging into theoretical observations, there is one important
point worth mentioning. The English verb category of tense has two main
components present and past – they are the only ones that possess grammatical
markers for tense. Quirk et al. in A Comprehensive
Grammar of the English Language elaborate even further that opposition by
limiting its scope to: past vs.
non-past, the past being the only truly marked one (its marker being –ed).
Thus in English we often speak of “time reference of the activity” which can be
present, past and future (175-6). The present study will only concentrate on
the “past time references” of the tenses, and may occasionally view some of the
“present time references”. (Quirk’s division partly reminds of Chakarova’s
classification: the sphere of the praesens, the preterit and the futurum.)
Let us first consider the ‘simple’
tenses that are typically encountered in a narrative of past events:
III.1.1. Meanings of Simple Past Tense
A/With past time reference /normal use/:
In The
Meaning and the English Verb, chapter “Simple Present and Past Tenses”, G.
Leech claims that simple past denotes a “happening that takes place before the
present moment” or at a definite time, named by an adverbial expression such as
yesterday, last weak, etc. (36). The
commonest meaning of the past simple is to mark a completed activity, which undoubtedly makes it a perfect
correspondent of the Bulgarian aorist of perfective verbs and eventually of the
iterative verbs in PH. In A Comprehensive
Grammar of the English Language Quirk et al. distinguish between event,
state and habitual past[9].
For the linguists, the event past is marked by definiteness and completion and
is typically used with dynamic verbs, e.g. “The eruption of Vesuvius destroyed
Pompei”. Still, the English past tense has other uses – state (refers to a
state), e.g. “Archery was a popular sport for the Victorians” and habitual past
(186). Leech speaks of unitary and habitual
past. The last use he illustrates with the following example: “In those
days I enjoyed a game of tennis”, where the habitual meaning is expressed by
means of an adverbial: in those days
and in this case the past simple is a synonym to the “used to/would + infinitive” construction (possible only with state
and habitual past, according to Quirk et al.) (37). Thus we may say that the
Bulgarian imperfect when used with imperfective verbs and expressing a
habitual, recurrent activity corresponds to past simple in English. The simple
past is also used to refer to events “happening simultaneously and in
sequence” (Leech 37). “However,” Leech continues, “in a narrative, a
sentence like: ‘He shaved and listened to the radio’ is more likely to be
treated as stages in a sequence.” Thus it directly fits one of the primal
meanings of the Bulgarian aorist (or PH of iterative verbs). Whether the
meanings are of consecutiveness or simultaneity is also predetermined by means
of conjunctions and adverbial expressions (as is often the case with Bulgarian
verbs and their aspectual nuances where, as already mentioned above, we often
need context or adverbials to help us determine their meanings), i.e. it refers
to devices from the “periphery”.
Besides the
above-mentioned meanings and uses of the simple past, there are others, which
Leech terms ‘extensions’ of the normal. Typically the usual tense for past
events is the past simple and as such is always “employed in narrative, whether
the events are true historical events or the fictional events of a novel” (38).
Conversely in Bulgarian narratives (especially of true historical facts) we may
choose between two alternatives - either the past (aorist) or the present (PH).
This use of the past simple in English has become a convention, just like PH in
biographies in Bulgarian. The past simple is used in narratives even for events
referring to the future: “In the year A.D. 2201, the interplanetary transit
vehicle Zeno VII made a journey route to the moon with thirty people on board”
(qtd. in Leech 38).
It is
relevant to briefly view the most common uses of the simple present with
reference to present time and contrast it with the Bulgarian PH.
A. With present time reference
There are many divisions as regards the
meanings of the present simple but they differ only in terminology, not in
their essence. We shall adopt Leech’s classification in “Simple Present and
Past Tenses”. G. Leech defines three major uses – unrestrictive, instantaneous
(not of any concern to our study) and habitual
(26). The unrestrictive use (or state in Quirk et al.) is found with state
verbs. Here we include general, “timeless” statements, or “eternal truths”.
These statements are not limited in time. Often they relate to proverbs,
scientific, mathematical and other “statements”. It is very often called in
other grammars “gnostic” present: e.g. “Two and two make four”.
The habitual use, or also called by
Leech iterative, is “confined to
event verbs” (31). These statements are often paraphrasable by means of
adverbs, such as on every occasion,
whenever, every time, etc. and this undoubtedly enhances their iterative
nature. The “iterative sense” is realized in Bulgarian by means of a special
suffix; in English this “aspect” of the verb is hidden in the essence of the
verb itself and the tense used. Context
(such as frequency adverbs or the plural of the direct object as in: “He
scores goals.” vs. the singular “He scores a goal.” – instantaneous meaning)
often accelerates the iterative meaning (Leech 32).
B. With past time reference
Traditionally this use of the present is called in
grammars of other languages Historic(al)
Present or Praesens Historicum. However, English is an exception and there
are some terminological differences. “Historic present in English is
characteristic of popular narrative style”(Quirk et al., 1985: 181). Let us
study Quirk’s example:
I couldn’t belive it! Just as we arrived [my emphasis], up comes
Ben and slaps me on the back as if
we’re life-long friends. ‘Come on, old pal,’ he says, ‘Let me buy you a drink! I’m telling you, I nearly fainted on the spot.
The past is described as if happening now, in
front of us. We are in the role of eyewitnesses. It is highly-coloured and is typical
of the oral style. This use of the present is found in almost all languages. It
has an immediate dramatic effect on the listeners. In The Philosophy of Grammar, Jespersen, too, using Brugmann’s idea,
admits the existence of unusual uses of the present, which he calls dramatic present as the term historic
present seemed quite inadequate to him. When the speaker uses the dramatic
present, s/he “steps outside the frame of history, visualizing and representing
what happened in the past as if it were before his eyes”(12). It is extremely
widely used and popular – we can hear people of “the humblest ranks relate
incidents that they have witnessed themselves”. Its use is “natural and
inevitable”. Jespersen continues by mentioning different views on the problem
with the Historic Present. He quotes Sweet who believes that historical present
is an influence from French and Latin. In the Icelandic Sagas where it is very frequent, it is borrowed from
Irish. There are others who ascribe this non-standard use of the present in
Middle English to Old French. At this time it was very popular in poetry and it
is highly improbable, Jespersen states, for a syntactic borrowing to appear in
popular poetry. However, it is only natural that Old English was not abundant
with examples of the dramatic present, while the Icelandic narratives were rich
in historic present. Old English literature “gives us none of those vivid
narratives in natural prose”, characteristic of
We find similar usage with verbs of
communication, such as say, tell, ask,
etc. in sentences as “I hear you have lost your money” (to a gambling colleague).
Another acceptable use referring to the past is when the information in the
statement in “strict historical terms” belongs to the past. Such is the case
when we speak about artists, writers, composers etc. – e.g. “Brahms is the last
great representative of the German classicism.” The simple present is also the
preferred tense in newspaper headlines, photographic captions and historical
summaries and tables (Leech 33-35 and Quirk et al. 181-182). Lastly, Leech
includes some unusual uses of the simple present, which he calls imaginary uses – stage directions,
installments, etc. (ibid. 40-41). He insists on differentiating between historic present and imaginary, or fictional present. The
historic present is seen as a story-teller’s licence and is spread in
conversational oral style. The imaginary use is also considered as a deviation
from the norm (i.e. past tense) when describing imaginary happenings. Leech
points out that in narratives some writers use present tense “in imitation of
the popular historic present of the spoken narrative”(40). However, the
linguist detects some stylistic effect, even “dramatic heightening”(especially
in comparison to past simple – my note) when transpositions to fictional
present are used in serious writing. “It puts the reader in the place of
someone actually witnessing the events as they are described:
Mr. Tulkinghorn takes [my emphasis] out his papers, asks permission to place them on a golden talisman of a table at my
Lady’s elbow, puts on his
spectacles, and begins to read by
the light of a shaded lamp (Dickens, Bleak
House, Ch.2, qtd. in Leech 41).
Obviously, the present tense forms
tend to represent the same meaning as simple past tense forms, namely completed activities in sequence. In the above review of
Bulgarian Praesens Historicum and its uses, we saw that PH of iterative verbs
when used in narratives of past events is utterly synonymous to the aorist of
perfective verbs. Here, in the example by Dickens we seem to discover the same
kind of synonymy, which leads us to ask an essential question: is coexistence
of past and present possible in English, then? Before attempting to answer this
question let us first consider the problem of aspect in English.
III.2 Tense and aspect. The problem of aspectuality in English
The question of aspect in Bulgarian,
as we saw, is closely connected with tense and the narrative stylistic effects.
The wide usage of iterative verbs has led to the spread of Praesens Historicum.
As we saw the historical and imaginary present in English are quite limited in
their use. But we have not clarified the place of aspectuality within tense.
What are the nuances of meanings that the “compound” tenses carry? The answers
to these questions might give us a clue as to what is the semantics of English
aspectuality and might help us contrast and compare the decisions the
translators have made so as to achieve “equivalence in difference”.
Traditionally, Quirk et al. in their A Comprehensive Grammar of the English
Language emphasize the existence of two privative oppositions: progressive vs. non- progressive and perfective vs. non-perfective (189).
The term “simple” has often been used by grammars (incl. Quirk et al.) to
distinguish those tenses deprived of the two aspects from others carrying
either progressive and/or perfective aspects. Quirk et al. define aspect as “a grammatical category which
reflects the way in which the verb action is regarded or experienced
with respect to time” (188). Typically,
aspect is so closely connected with tense that Quirk et al. are inclined to
believe that their actual difference is a matter of terminological convenience
which eases the determination of constructions, combining aspect and tense: present progressive, present perfective,
past progressive, past perfective, present perfective progressive and past
perfective progressive (Quirk et al. 189). These tenses have been called
“compound”.
Often, the two aspects in English are
seen as expressing a contrast “between the action viewed as complete
(perfective), and the action viewed as incomplete, i.e. in progress
(imperfective or progressive)” (Quirk et al. 189). In contrast to Bulgarian,
the two aspects in English can co-occur, e.g. past perfect progressive or
present perfect progressive. This complicates the question of their meaning –
is the action complete or incomplete? Clearly they make an attempt to study
English aspect on analogy with Slavic aspect, but obviously the model does not
work so easily here, as Quirk et al. themselves admit.
A. Perfective aspect
According to Quirk et al. the
prefective aspect indicates “anterior
time”, i.e. time preceding whatever time orientation is signalled by tense
or by other elements of the sentence or its context, as in sentences like the
following:
I have already met your
sister.
I may have left the key at the
office last night.
The linguists compare the most problematic opposition in English – past
simple and present perfect(ive) so as to clarify the semantics of the
prefective. They both indicate “ a state of affairs before the present moment”,
but the simple past signals that it (the state of affairs) has come to a close
(it is complete) whereas the perfective aspect shows that this state has
continued up to the present. The scholars determine three meanings of the
present perfective: (a) State leading up
to the present – e.g. “Have you known my sister for long?”; (b) Indefinite event(s) in a period leading up
to the present – e.g. “All our children have had measles.”; (c) Habit (i.e. recurrent event) leading up to
the present – e.g. “Mr. Terry has sung in this choir ever since he was a
boy.” (190-192). Quirk and Greenbaum in A
Student’s Grammar of the English Language elaborate even further on that
issue by stating that State Present Perfect, or (a) is usually used with
stative[10]
verbs. Event Present Perfect, or (b) employs dynamic verbs to indicate one or
more events that occurred in the past – in a period leading up to the present.
The Habitual Present Perfect, or (c) includes verbs with dynamic senses and
signifies recurrent past events that continue recurring up to the present
moment. The latter is typically used with adverbials of frequency and carries
iterative meaning. Adverbials indicating continuity are always used with the State
Present Perfect (193).
Past Perfective is defined by Quirk et al. as ‘past-in-the-past’ and is
“regarded as anterior version either of the present perfect or the past
simple”. It denotes an event or state “anterior to a time of orientation in the
past”, e.g. “When we bought it, the house had
been empty for several years” (195).
B. Progressive aspect
This aspect is also called continuous or durative. As its name suggests
it generally means “a happening in
progress at a given time” (Quirk et al. 197). The linguists cite two
sentences which according to them illustrate a case where we have one and the
same tense, but different aspect: e.g. “Joan sings well.” as opposed to “Joan
is singing well.” The first example
expresses Joan’s ability to sing, whereas the second sentence refers to a
“performance on a particular occasion”. In the past tense we may detect the
same contrast, claim Quirk et al. (Cf. “Joan sang well.” and “Joan was singing
well.”) The simple past encompasses the event as a whole whereas the
progressive form makes us “see the activity in progress”. Hence, the scholars
define the following three meanings of the progressive:
(a) the happening has duration
(b) the happening has limited duration
(c) the happening is not necessarily complete
Quirk et al. claim that (a) and
(b) form the notion of temporariness.
Furthermore, (a) is a distinctive feature for single events, while (b) for
states and habits (c) is typically associated only with some types of dynamic
verbs – e.g. “I was reading a novel yesterday evening.” There is no implication
that the activity has been completed, i.e. that I finished the whole novel that
night. A direct consequence of the fact that the happening has limited duration
is that the progressive is capable of forming a temporal frame (in a narrative) around “an action denoted by a
non-progressive form”, usually past simple form. As a result, the relationship
between the two is one of time-inclusion,
which opposes to the relationship between two simple forms which is one of time-sequence (Leech 93). Hence, we may
conclude that when the progressive form is applied in narratives, it very often
coincides with the Bulgarian imperfect tense of imperfective verbs, which, as
we have already stated above, can form a similar kind of frame.
The linguists distinguish between three types of progressive – state,
event and habitual. The State Progressive cannot be used with stative verbs.
The idea of “progress” is absent in stative verbs. However, wherever the
progressive is possible, it necessarily implies “temporariness, rather than
permanence”: cf. “We are living in the country.” (temporary residence) and “We live in the country.”(permanent
residence). The Event Progressive, on the other hand, conveys the idea of
duration and incompleteness. The Habitual Progressive means that the repetition
takes place over a limited period of time, i.e. it is temporary – e.g. “The
professor is typing his own letters while his secretary is ill.” There are
cases when the habitual progressive might indicate that every event in a
sequence of events has duration/incompletion - e.g. “Whenever I see her, she’s
working in the garden.” Usually, this kind of statements must contain
adverbials of time, position or frequency. The habitual progressive has one
more meaning, different from the above one, especially when combined with the
following adverbs – always, continually
and forever. Then there is a certain
emotional colouring bordering with a “feeling of disapproval”. (Quirk et
al.198-199).
A.
Perfective Progressive aspect
This unusual aspect combines some of the meanings of the perfective and
some of the progressive. As a result the perfective progressive is said to mean
“a temporary situation leading up to the present”. There is also the sense of incompleteness,
especially when contrasted to the ‘resultative’ meaning of the simple
perfective – cf. “I’ve cleaned the windows.” vs. “I’ve been cleaning the
windows.” (they are not clean) (Quirk et al. 211).
This unquestionably detailed study of English aspectuality made by
Quirk, Greenbaum, Leech and Svratvik is not fully accepted by all scholars.
There are many who have touched upon the question of aspect and its semantics.
More or less, their points of view coincide with that of Quirk and his colleagues.
There are, however, some peculiar and noteworthy observations that have caused
serious discussions recently and might add to our survey of past time
narratives. Such are the views of Duškova, Kabakchiev, and others, which will
be summarized briefly, as aspect is not at the very centre of the present study
but still applies to the problems of translation of Bulgarian temporal
variations.
Jespersen works not only on time and tense in his The Philosophy of Grammar; he also studies aspect both in its
broadest sense and particularly in English. In the section “Aspect” Jespersen
refers to the work of F. Diez. The linguist, according to him, makes a
remarkable classification of verbs. The first class, Diez calls perfective. It encompasses such verbs whose
action is confined to one single moment, e.g. catch, surprise, awake, leave, kill, end, or implies a final aim,
e.g. make, bring about, adorn, construct,
beat. The passive participle of these verbs denotes that the action is
accomplished, completed, and hence their name “perfective”. Diez’s second class
comprises verbs denoting an activity “which is not begun in order to be
finished”, e.g. love, hate, praise,
blame, admire, see, hear. He names that group imperfective. The past participle of this group together with is/are denotes present time. The
participles from the first class tend to function as adjectives and carry past
time reference. Jespersen elaborates on this classification by stating that the
two types of verbs are conclusive
and non-conclusive, which correspond
to Diez’s perfective and imperfective classes. The participles derived from the
non-conclusive, like honoured, admired,
despised are used as adjuncts as in an
honoured colleague and they specify no time and may be used about any time.
Therefore the construction is/are + past
participle of non-conclusive verbs belongs to the present, e.g. is
honoured, is admired. Conversely, conclusive participles like paid, conquered, lost, etc. when
functioning as adjuncts denote the result of past action, e.g. a paid bill, a lost battle, conquered towns.
The construction with is/are may have
two meanings, depending on whether the perfect meaning of the participle or the
present meaning of is/are dominates,
cf. “his bills are paid” may have two
meanings:1) “his bills are paid” = “he has paid his bills”, so he owes
nothing now; 2)”his bills are paid” = “he
pays his bills”, regularly. (Jespersen 69-70)
Later, Jespersen writes about the so-called “expanded” tenses,
traditionally known as progressive. He shares the same views as most of the
linguists as regards their semantics. He mentions the relative duration of the
“expanded” tenses and their ability to form ‘temporal frames’. For him the expanded
tense denotes something transitory, whereas the unexpanded tense is permanent
(74-78). In the section “Aspect”, Jespersen decides not to elucidate the
difference between “aspect” and “aktionsart”. He prefers to concentrate on the
four factors that determine the aspect of the English verb: “1) the ordinary
meaning of the verbs itself; 2) the occasional meaning of the verb as
occasioned by context or situation; 3) a derivative suffix; and 4) a tense-form
“ (84).
The scholar insists on differentiating between durative or permanent and
punctual or transitory meanings. In English this is accomplished by means of
the expanded and unexpanded tenses. Another distinction to be drawn is between
finished and unfinished verb actions, the latter being one of the functions of
the expanded tenses. Furthermore, he contrasts “what takes place only once, and
repeated or habitual action or happening”. This issue raises our earlier
question about quantity and its place in the semantics of the verbs. There are
languages in which the notion of number is grammaticalized within the structure
of the word (the case with Bulgarian). There are a couple of verbs in English
which according to him can express the notion of repetition by means of
suffixes, e.g. verbs that end in –er and
–le as in totter, chatter, babble, etc. There are also languages that have
specific affixes to signify “a change into a state” (inchoative, inceptive,
etc). Such a language is Bulgarian, but English morphology has no such
variants, with few exceptions, such as –en
verbs, e.g. flatten, weaken, ripen,
etc. Otherwise English uses expressions which include verbs like fall, get, begin, etc.(85-6).
Jespesen concludes, that perfective and imperfective are two terms that
should be avoided in English grammar. They apply only to Slavic languages. What
a linguist should do is examine the meaning of every verbal expression and see
whether it (the meaning) is due to the context, the verb itself, its affixes or
its tense-form (87).
When speaking about aspect and aspectuality, we cannot miss an unusual
attempt at resolving the mystery around the category of aspect in English.
Though very hastily, we will focus on this theory. In his work The Aspect in English Language, Kr.
Kabakchiev claims that English has no category of aspect, such as we find it in
Bulgarian. As an example the scholar quotes couples of Bulgarian
imperfective/perfective verbs and emphasizes the fact that their English
equivalent is a single verb[11].
Kabakchiev also undertakes the task to question the popular “progressive”
aspect. The “progressive” aspect is not equal to Bulgarian imperfective verbs.
The English “progressive” indicates an incomplete activity that is going on at
a given time and it is not opposed to any “completed”, or “perfective” form.
English is deprived of verbal forms that denote “perfectivity” or
“completeness”. English expresses aspectuality by different syntactic means,
i.e. using the direct object, adverbial modifier or the meanings of the nouns
and the verbs that enter the sentence. Hence, the notions of perfectivity and
imperfectivity are predetermined by such additional elements, attached to the
verb. The author believes that there is an inherent connection between the
object (a noun) and its predicate, namely perfectivity or imperfectivity of the
verb depends on the presence or absence of an article and also on the quantity
of the noun – singular or plural. Let us consider Kabakchiev’s examples
(16-26):
a. He gave orders. /no article, plural, imperfective /
b. He gave an order. /indefinite article, singular,
perfective/
Kabakchiev’s views are greatly influenced by the Dutch linguist H.J.
Verkuyl and his seminal book On the
Compositional Nature of the Aspects (1972). For Verkuyl aspectual meanings are
realized throughout the whole sentence. They are not concentrated only on the
level of the verb phrase. For him both, the subject and the object (in the
traditional SVO sentence structure) express different shades of aspectuality
and play their role in conveying perfectivity or imperfectivity, depending on
their being singular or plural, with or without article, countable or
uncountable, etc. (Kabakchiev 44). However, the linguist does not deny the
importance of the context when aspect is concerned and states that two simple
clauses positioned within the context of a complex sentence might change their
aspectual parameters (the following example is also quoted in Duskova):
e.g. 1) He wrote the letters./completed action/
2) I checked the
addresses./completed action/
3) While he
wrote the letters, I checked the addresses./incomplete activities/
When Kabakchiev compares English and Bulgarian aspect he comes to the
conclusion that perfectivity/completeness is much more difficult to express in
English than in Bulgarian. If imperfectivity can be expressed by means of the
progressive aspect, perfectivity has no formal corresponding markers in
English. The Slavic languages employ a number of prefixes and suffixes whereas
in English they do not exist. The author holds the opinion that the verb is
indirectly involved in the ways of expressing perfectivity. Aspect is revealed
by the participants in English and only then it is projected onto the verb
(84-89).
Though he accepts the status of the progressive, Kabakchiev challenges
Quirk’s concept about the progressive aspect, namely his opinion that it
denotes duration, limited duration and is not necessarily complete. Kabakchiev
remarks that the construction be + -ing
does not tell us anything about the continuity of that activity. This
construction introduces an activity that takes place at a given moment
in time (in Bulgarian the time of the activity is irrelevant) and this activity
is limitless, incomplete/imperfective/. Verbs in Bulgarian are usually marked
with regard to aspect. English progressive aspect is derived periphrastically
and combines with various tenses. For Kabakchiev the progressive exhibits the
following meanings: an incomplete activity going on at a given time, parallel
activities taking place at a given time and a separate activity that is going
on at a fixed moment in time.
Kabakchiev concludes that languages with weak morphology, such as
English, which have aspectually unmarked verbs find other means to express
aspectuality – lexical, syntactical or contextual (102-175).
Another eminent scholar that has worked on the problem of English
aspectuality is L. Duškova. Her publication raises the equivocal question: “Has
the English Verb System the Category of Aspect?” She surveys the diverse theories on
aspect, following the concepts of Quirk, Leech, Palmer, D. Nehls and I.P.
Ivanova. Some of the authors she quotes consider the progressive and the
perfective form to represent the English aspect (Quirk et al.), whereas others are
inclined to accept either the progressive or the perfective as aspect (D. Nehls
and Ivanova). Notwithstanding the various opinions, Duškova chooses to clarify
the issue by considering it from a Slavonic point of view. A central aspectual
category for her is the opposition perfective/imperfective, which becomes the
focal point for her considerations about the English progressive and perfect
forms. The linguist defines the perfective as “a complex, completed act,
imperfective aspect being neutral in this respect. Verbal action denoted by
perfective verbs implies boundaries (a beginning and/or an end), while in the
case of the imperfective verbs, it is expressed in its progress.” (136-7).
Duškova acknowledges that there is another way of regarding prefectivity,
namely as “resultativeness”, which is almost synonymous to the term
“completeness”. Aspect is unquestionably closely linked to tense, it is
“superimposed upon tense” and the two cannot be viewed separately (137).
First, Duškova
turns to the progressive form and quotes all its meanings according to
different scholars like Quirk, Leech, Allen, Jespersen and concludes that
though there are some apparent similarities like incompleteness and action in
progress, there are some differences as well. Temporary duration is specific to
the progressive, whereas the imperfective aspect refers not only to temporary
actions but to general as well (something which Kabakchiev also claims). As an
example Duškova suggests the sentences:
e.g. 1) John is smoking
2) John
smokes. (138)
Both statements are
translated in Czech (and Bulgarian too) in the imperfective form of the verb
“smoke”[12].
And although there are many reasons to believe that the progressive form has
aspectual characteristics, the opposition simple form/progressive form is not
the same as perfective/imperfective in the Slavonic languages. Yet, in English,
the binary opposition has as the unmarked member the simple form which, under
certain conditions, can replace the progressive form and express the same
meaning, but the opposite is not possible. In Slavonic languages the unmarked
member is the imperfective, since it can refer to a completed act. Hence, we
can hardly speak of any correspondence between the two types of oppositions –
simple/progressive and perfective/imperfective. Duškova draws to a close this
part of the discussion by declaring that “there is a undirectional
correspondence between the progressive form and the imperfective aspect, but
not vice versa” (139). The imperfective can refer to both progressive and
simple forms, as it has no “temporary” feature. On the other hand, the simple
form can correspond to both the perfective and the imperfective and displays a
higher degree of aspectual neutrality than the imperfective. The scholar proves
that the aspect of the verbs depends on its complementation (see also
Kabakchiev). Therefore, an action can be presented either cursively or as a
completed act, depending on its complement, cf. “She sang beautifully”
(imperfective aspect in Czech and Bulgarian: “Тя
пееше
хубаво.”) and “She sang a Scotch ballad” (perfective aspect:
“Тя изпя една
шотландска
балада.”) (140).
Duškova focuses on another relevant semantic feature of the verb, which
she calls its lexical aspect. She distinguishes between “verbs whose action is
fulfilled when a certain stage is reached”(telic verbs), which encompass most
of the dynamic verbs given in Quirk et al. On the other hand, there are “verbs
whose action does not proceed to any goal or in any direction” (atelic verbs).
They include some of the activity verbs (learn,
listen, teach), verbs of bodily sensation, verbs of inert perception and
cognition and relational verbs (be,
belong, concern). Whether or not a certain verb belongs to one of these
classes, depends on its complementation (consider sing, presents verbal action as an unbound flow, i.e. atelic and sing a ballad is a goal-directed action,
i.e.telic) (141-2).
In the case of the English perfect forms, the opposition is
perfect/non-perfect. The features associated with the perfect are continuation
up to the present, indefinite past and resultative past. The meaning
continuation up to the present, e.g. “They have lived in
The feature “completion” of the perfect form results not so much from
its being a perfect form, but rather from its being a simple one. The aspectual
category of the action remains unchanged irrespective of the verbal form, be it
perfect or simple past, cf. “Where did I put my glasses?” and “Where have I put
my glasses?” Both questions denote a completed act. The difference is that in
the first sentence the speaker focuses his attention on the moment when he lost
his glasses, whereas in the second the speaker is concerned with the present
result. The difference is in the temporal orientation. The perfect denotes a
relation to the present, while the simple form is neutral in this respect.
(143-4)
Duškova notes that adverbials may turn a bounded action into a
continuative one, e.g. “What have I done that’s so wrong?” (completed act,
perfective aspect in Slavonic) and “Just wait patiently.” “Oh, I’ve done that
for years.” (an action continuing up to the present, potential extension into the
future, imperfective present in Slavonic). However, there are certain
restrictions as some verbs allow such adverbials and others do not, e.g.
“You have read that book for ages.” The restrictions are typically determined by the class-belonging
of the verbs. The verb read with a
singular object implies a completed act and is incompatible with a meaning of
continuation (145).
Obviously an object can influence the aspectual character of its verb, “provided
the object presents a goal towards which verbal action proceeds” (145). Duškova
cites an example by Palmer – “I pained the house this morning.” It normally
means completion or can just report the activity without being specific about
its accomplishment. The latter is possible only in a while clause – e.g. “While I pained the house this morning, it
occurred to me that...” (also in
Kabakchiev). Then, the linguist refers to James and outlines the importance of
the object and its article and number. Duškova writes: “The nature of the
determiner has become a distinctive factor” (146). Cf. “He wrote letters” (zero article, plural) and “He wrote the letters” (definite article, plural). The first is
regarded by James as imperfective, and the second as perfective.
Duškova ends her article by stating that the existence of a concept
“perfect aspect” in English can hardly be justified. The semantic
characteristics of the perfect form, namely continuation up to the present, indefinite
past and resultative past are temporal ones. If the verb carries the meaning of
completion, possible only with the resultative past, it is achieved by its
simple form and the lexical aspect of the verb, which is totally sentence- and
context-bound. The neutral character of
the simple perfect is illustrated by the fact that the same form can have
continuative/imperfective and resultative/perfective form depending on its
environment. Besides, if we assign imperfective aspect to the continuative use
of the perfect, perfective aspect to the resultative use, then we have to
assign both aspects to the indefinite use. Only “the progressive form appears
to denote distinctions of an aspectual kind, viz. distinctions concerning the
course of the verbal action, and consequently can be referred to as aspect”,
but we should not forget that it is a category “sui generis, only
partially comparable to that of imperfective aspect” (138 and 147-9).
Finally, we shall consider A. Danchev’s contrastive study of the English
and Bulgarian aspectuality, published in Danchev’s Contrastive Linguistics. His chapter entitled “Some sides of
aspectuality in English and Bulgarian”, deals mainly with the controversial
issue of the ways of expressing Bulgarian aspect in English. A. Danchev adopts
the bipolar model perfectivity/imperfectivity, characterized by the integral
properties “completeness”/”incompleteness”; still, the scholar admits there are
others, additional features, such as expressing single and instantaneous
activities (perfectivity) and recurrent and continuous activity
(imperfectivity). In Bulgarian all these meanings are realized by means of
morphemes, while English employs a whole range of language means. Danchev’s
corpus covers examples in the past tense, since the aspectual meaning is “most
visible” then (Maslov, qtd. in Danchev 172). Danchev directs his observations
towards the needs of translators and enumerates the following devices for
expressing Bulgarian aspect in English: morphemes, lexemes, syntagms and
context.
The first level, the morphological,
is represented by the –ing suffix.
Generally, these forms express continuity, as in the progressive tenses, e.g.
“The girl was smiling.” However, Danchev admits that this is a misleading correspondence with the
Bulgarian imperefect tense[13],
though they may sometimes coincide in use. The latter has chiefly a descriptive
function, which is fulfilled by the Simple Past in English. Another “aspectual” morpheme that has often been
disregarded, is –en. There are about
50 verbs derived by means of this suffix; these verbs correlate with perfective
aspect of the Bulgarian verb, e.g. “The sky blackened.”[14]
The next level is the lexical.
It has already been discussed in details above and the opinions of various
scholars such as Duškova have been mentioned. Danchev assumes that there is a
direct relation between the semantics of the verbs and their translations. Some
carry perfective, others imperfective aspect – cf. hate and break in:
e.g. 1) I broke that
vase.(perfective, completed act)
2) I hated that
vase. (imperfective, incomplete activity)
The next stage, the syntactic, is much more complex. The
aspectual meaning is realized on a syntactic level, i.e. in a phrase, or also
called a synagm, consisting of two or more words where one carries the verbal
meaning and the others modify it. A common aspectual marker in English is the
adverbial. Danchev illustrates this by a pair of sentences:
e.g. 1) He hated that man.
2) Suddenly
he hated that man.[15] (the adverb carries the meaning of a single instantaneous
act which eliminates the lexical meaning of continuity of the verb hate).
Danchev proves that the aspectual syntagms may cancel the lexical
devices for expressing aspectuality and in this sense, the latter are viewed as
weaker. If we replace the verb hate
in the above sentence with the verb hit,
we will undoubtedly translate the sentence by means of the perfective aspect of
the verb in aorist - e.g. “He hit that man.”
If, however, we include an adverbial
of frequency, then the translation will necessitate an imperfective aspect in
Bulgarian and the imperfect tense: e.g. “Sometimes he hit that man”[16].
The English verb may change its aspect not only by means of adverbials,
but also by means of the subject of the clause. The aspectual syntagms may be
presented thus:
e.g. 1) The man
came form outside.
2) The light came from outside.
Here the aspectual marker is the subject of the sentence and
more precisely the semantic feature [±animate]. Its presence or absence
determines whether the activity will be seen as an instantaneous single action
(as in1.) or as a continuous one (2).[17]
It also is dependant upon the verb and its semantics, because there are verbs -
hit, catch, put, pull, raise, break,
whose simple past forms tend to be translated with the aorist of perfective
verbs in Bulgarian. Verb forms like knew,
meant, wanted are usually associated with animate subjects and correlate to
imperfective forms in Bulgarian.
Another synatgmatic marker of aspectuality is the object. Danchev gives
many examples which show the interdependence between plurality of the object
and recurrence of the activity, denoted by the verb, e.g.” He answered in monosyllables.”
is translated in imperfect tense and the aspect of the verb will be
imperfective. If, however, we decide to “limit” the plurality of the object, then
the Bulgarian variant will be the aorist of a perfective verb. The attribute
may also have such “limiting” force, e.g. “I knew that the monthly eight
pounds which I gave her had been a great help to her.”[18]
The next stage that Danchev discusses is the contextual. The scholar regrets that most of his colleagues stop at
the level of the sentence, but the context plays also a decisive role in
translating aspect. As an example he quotes Lakoff’s notorious pair of
sentences that has given rise to many discussions:
e.g. 1)
2)
Danchev points out that
owing to the fact that in the English aspect is less explicit compared to
Slavic, we need additional markers. Hence, the translational equivalents of the
two sentences are possible only if we know their larger contexts. If sentences
are translated in isolation, their equivalents will be the aorist of perfective
verbs, but if we provide some context, then the situation changes, the
Bulgarian equivalents may be imperfective verbs as in:
We usually had our meals together.
Many
linguists believe that this example is an illustration of the different deep
structures of the English sentence and the Slavic translational equivalents
(where aspect is independent from context). But Danchev supports the view of
other linguists who cliam that the sentences and their translational
equivalents have essentially the same deep structure and differ only on the
surface level. The importance of context is also evident in cases where we have
aspectually neutral verbs such as meet,
cross. Consider:
e.g. 1) Lily and Tony met in the
park.
1a) Last summer
Lily and Tony talked frequently. They met in the park.
1b) Tony rang up
Lily and told her he wanted to see her. They met in the park.
Many of the “informers”, claims Danchev, are at a loss with
sentence 1. Both perfective and imperfective are possible, but the alternative
disappears when we enlarge the context and, unequivocally, the translational
equivalents of 1a. and 1b. will be respectively imperfect tense of the
imperfective verb and the aorist of the perfective verb (Danchev
171-81).
Another linguist who insists on the
importance of context when aspect is concerned is R. Jakobson. In “On Linguistic
Aspects of Translation” he points out that “on the level of interlingual
translation, there is ordinarily no full equivalence between code-units” (56). He goes on by
claiming that translation is possible only if considered as a substitution of equivalent
messages in different language codes. He calls this “equivalence in
difference”. What translators and bilingual grammars are expected to do is to
study the similarities and differences in the two languages and find ways to
establish their mutual translatability. He continues by contrasting Russian and
English and focuses on such controversial issue as the aspect. The sentence “I hired a worker” cannot be translated
without some additional information, such as ‘completeness/non-completeness’ of
the verbal action.[19]
The information required by the Russiаn and the English verb is quite
different. So is the situation with Bulgarian and English. Still, the two
languages are not untranslatable. On the contrary, they are translated quite
successfully. How is this achieved? Through grammatical, semnatic, contextual,
lexical and syntactic interpretation, i.e. “equivalence in difference”.
III. 3. English narrative. Sequence
of tenses. Temporal variation in English fiction
In the previous subchapter, we discussed
in details the temporal system of English and its peculiarities and their
connection with past time narratives. An inseparable part of past time
narratives is the historic present and the dramatic/imaginary present, which we
also dealt with. While enumerating all the views on PH, unavoidably we touched
upon the issue of temporal variation in oral and written narratives.
Nevertheless, as the subject of the present paper is temporal variation in
fiction, we will include some additional points on this question.
In A
Comprehensive Grammar of the English Language, Quirk et al. give special
attention to the problem of tense and narrative structure. There, briefly, they
venture upon the tense complexity of the narrative structure. The authors of
the seminal grammar insist that “all finite clauses (and many nonfinite ones)
carry a discrete indication of tense and aspect” (1454). They both are
indivisibly integrated in the text cohesion and hence cannot be absent. Quirk
quotes an example, where sentence 1), may be followed either by 1a) or 1b), and
the meaning of both combinations will be different:
1) She told me about the operation on her hip.
1a) It seemed to have been a success.
1b) It seems to have been a success.
1a), in conformity with sequence of
tenses(see below) and backshift, is the variant we would expect. The past tense
is the link that unites 1) and 1a), the source of the two sentences is probably
the woman concerned. The linguists paraphrase the second sentence as “It seemed
to her that...” There is a
possibility of negating the information: “Unfortunately, this is not so”. In
1b) the simple present suggests that the speaker of the sentences is “I”, or
the narrator and it is restated as: “It seems to me that...”
Such alternation between present
and past is a regular “mode of switching”(1454). Naturally, the past refers to
“then” of the
narrative and the present refers to “now” which includes the narrator and the hearer/reader. This
is what we may call, a “natural alternation”, as in the following instance of
temporal variation:
As a child, I lived in Singapore. It’s
very hot there, you know, and I never
owned an overcoat, I remember being
puzzled at picture books showing Europen children wrapped up in heavy coats and
scarves. I believe I thought it all
as exotic as children here think about psacemen’s clothing, you see.(qtd. in Quirk et al, 1454)
All the verbs in the past tense in the text refer back “to a stretch of
time during which these things were true”, or “then” and they are said to be referentially identical,
while the present tense refers to ‘now’, the time of narration. Past tenses may
also refer back to a sequence of events iconically represented by the sequence of
verbs. Quirk et al. cite the following example:
Do you want to hear about my
adventures last Thursday? I got up at
six, had some coffee, kissed my wife goodbye, and set off for Rome. I took a taxi and then the underground, arrived at Heathrow, started
to check in my case, patted my pocket
and found – no ticket, no passport.Picked up my case, caught the
underground, got another taxi, arrived at my front door, rushed in, and of course gave my poor wife the shock of her life (1455).
“then” got up had kissed set
off took arrived started......... rushed in gave “now”
________▼_________▼________▼_________▼_________▼_________▼_________▼_________▼_________▼_____________
Do you
want...?
Generally, narratives comprise “greater
time-reference complexity,” Quirk et al claim (1455). We usually have a mixture of
state verbs and dynamic verbs, present and past, backwards and forwards movement
of the narrative. The narrator deviates form the linear sequence of historical
order and achieves different effects. The linguists present a complicated
extract, where we have a “a narrative about a narrative within a narrative”:
I was reading Chaucer’s Troilus
the other night, and it suddenly occurred to me to wonder what Chaucer
expects/expected us to make of the fact that Criseyde has/had been widowed
wheras Troilus has/had never even been in love. Surely this is significant, yet
I had never thought of it before (ibid.).
Here we have a durative
activity (reading) in the past, which
is interrupted by a sudden thought. This thought is represented not merely as
having significance at the time of thinking or reading, it has become
permanent. Quirk et al. deliberately provide two choices, both of them are
grammatically correct. The “timeless” present and the past simple connote
different effects – the former treats Chaucer’s ideas as permanently existing,
the latter takes the historical view, it implies the idea of a retelling.
Therefore, the linguists conclude that the
present tense can appear together with two types of time reference: ordinary
“state present” and universal “state present” (also called “timeless”). The
third type of present, which we have already mentioned in the review of the
English temporal system, is the “habitual” present, which is often met in
narratives and freely alternates with past tense:
I had forgotten that they dine very early and I arrived at an awkward moment for both them
and me (1457).
Undoubtedly,
Quirk et al. mention the “historic present” and its use, as well. Yet, they
state that PH occurs typically in old-fashioned mannered style and spoken
narratives, especially at moments of great excitement. The time reference is
past (1457):
It was on the
Conversely, there is a special use of the
past when it can replace the present and refer to the narrator’s “now”. The colloquial
style the narrator uses emphasizes “the impression of present-tense
self-communion, as for instance in one-word sentences” (1458):
He recalled vaguely that
they had talked at one point in terms of debts and credits. Well, what did it
work out to now?
Credits? Well, there was all that money in
Here we are dealing with
the so-called sequence of tenses or backshift. The past tense used for a
reporting verb (recalled) obliges us
to transfer the whole narrative in the past, where the present simple becomes
past simple, past simple becomes past perfect, etc. Hence, all the past tenses
refer to the recreated “present”, which the narrator terms as “now”. This
problem also raises the question of direct and indirect speech.
When we tackle the question of temporal
variations within one narrative, an important issue that needs to be solved is
the sequence of tenses (ST), so peculiar of the English language. “When we are
talking about the past, we sometimes use past tenses even for situations that
exist in the present” (Swan 594): e.g. “I got
this job because I was a good
driver.” In such sentences, we are not interested whether or not the man is
still a good driver. These facts interest us only in relation to past events
(e.g. the moment of getting the job) and hence we use past tense to talk about
them. Generally, this ‘tense sequence’ concerns subordinate clauses, but can
also occur in main clauses:
‘Do you remember that Danish family
we met in
ST is intricately related to the topic of
direct and indirect speech. In Swan’s Practical
English Usage (533-538), he declares that both types of speech are used to
quote somebody’s words or thoughts. With direct speech we try to give the exact
words. “Reported speech” construction is used in indirect speech. In this case
there may be differences in word order, tense, pronouns, etc. The difference
between direct and indirect speech can easily be illustrated by a simple
example:
1) Direct speech: “He said, ‘I am so happy.’”
2) Indirect speech: “He said that he was so happy.”
The first clause is called a
reporting clause (“he said”) and the second a reported clause (“that he was so happy”).
There are two types of changes that take place when we convert direct speech
into indirect. Some of the changes concern the pronouns and the adverbs
occurring in the sentence, and the second group of changes affects the verb
phrase. Thus, if we go back to the example above, we shall see that “I” becomes
“he”. Adverbs are changed, too – those that denote “nearness” are replaced by
those that denote “remoteness”. As a result, this becomes that, here - there, etc. Indirect speech always has a distancing effect. It
shifts actions, states, circumstances, etc. further into the past. This is most
evident in the changes of the verb phrase. All these changes are called
backshift. Hence present simple becomes past simple, present perfect, past
simple and past perfect change into past perfect, present progressive become
past progressive, etc. If the reporting verb is past, then what follows it or
precedes it must also be in the past. Of course, there are exceptions to the
backshift. The rule can be ignored in cases where the validity of the statement
reported holds for the present time as much as the time of utterance.
Presumably this is a universal assertion, which is supposedly true for the time
being. When some universal truth is reported, the conveyed information is still
valid and two variants are possible – past and present. We may quote Swan’s
example (534):
The earth goes round the sun
Galileo proved that the earth goes
round the sun.
But: ‘How old are you?’ – ‘I beg your pardon’ – ‘I asked how old you were.’
A half-way stage between direct and indirect speech is the represented
(free indirect) speech. With represented speech there is no reporting verb and
the peculiarities of direct speech are retained – direct questions, tag questions,
vocatives, etc. However, we have backshift of the verbs, pronouns and adverbs,
which signals that these words are being reported. This can be seen in the
example above (“...He recalled vaguely that...”). Usually it conveys the
character’s thoughts and is commonly used in stream-of-consciousness narratives
(Galperin 236-241).
Tanya Kmetova expatiates on the topic of sequence of tenses in “The
Sequence of Tenses in English-Bulgarian and Bulgarian-English Translations”.
She stops mainly on the questions that ST pose in connection with backshift
(the latter is inseparable part of ST and often used as a synonym of ST).
Translations from Bulgarian into English put forward an enormous problem to be
solved – in languages like Bulgarian there is no phenomenon like a sequence of
tenses. The subordinate, even the main, clauses may be in any possible tense
irrespective of the preceding or the following main verb[20].
In English the main verb (reporting verb in indirect speech) determines the
tense of the subordinate clause and often of the other sentences[21].
Yet, Kemtova deals with ST only on sentential level, though as Swan claims it
may function between main clauses as well (234) . In the conclusion, she says
that ST is working in almost all cases she studied, with few exceptions (8
instances out of 900 pages), where the translators felt the action to be
relevant, universally true or valid for the time being and chose to disregard
ST, e.g. “I was amazed [my emphasis]
to find out that we live with so
many wrong ideas about people” (102). Otherwise, ST is strictly followed by all
the translators.
So far we have analyzed various sides of the present subject - praesens
historicum and its English variants – historic and fictional present, sequence
of tenses and backshift, uses of past and present tense and their connection
with aspect. We also noticed that tense alternation is extremely common in
Bulgarian prose and probably not so in English serious writings (see above).
A linguist who has considered the possible
interference of present tense in the past-tense oriented narrative is Raevska.
In her book An Outline of
English Stylistics, she makes an extensive study of the potential polysemy of
the verb forms in English and the possibilities for metaphorical
“transposition” of the verb forms. She claims that in many languages, it is
quite common for the present tense to be metaphorically used in the past. Or as
she puts it:
...The metaphorical use of present tense forms in the past is based on the
fact that present tense is capable of actualizing activities and present them as real (68).
She states that the present tense
(indicative mood) has two general meanings: exclusive present and present, non-referring to time. The exclusive present comprises two branches –
present tense, actualizing a past fact and present tense, expressing future
activities. These derivative
meanings are created only in particular contexts. The stylistic transposition,
we are interested in (i.e. present-past), may be realized in large contexts
that have already been positioned temporally into the past. The stylistic
transpositions of the present verb forms, actualizing past facts are presented
by Raevska in two narrative planes: plane of the historic present and plane of
the present narrative (71). The historic present is deprived of the picturesque
imagery and expressions, characteristic of the present verb forms in the lively
conversational style. The plane of the present narrative is described as
involving different shades of the emotive-expressive actualization of the past.
In this connection Raevska subdivides the following cases:
1) A situation which instigates interest,
surprise or indignation in the narrator:
‘Old
2) The actualization of
the past events is presented as habitual activities:
I hand [my emphasis] the first book to my
mother. Perhaps it is a grammar, perhaps a history or geography. I take a last drowning, look at the page as I give it into her hand, and start off aloud at a racing pace while
I have got it fresh. I trip over a
word. Mr. Murdstone looks up. I trip over another word. Mr. Murdstone looks up. I redden, tumble over
half-a-dozen words, and stop. I
think my mother would show me the book if she dared but she does not dare, and she says softly. “Oh, Davy, Davy!” (Ch.
Dickens, qtd in Raevska, 73)
3) The actualization of
the past brings to the forth a theme-rheme opposition:
“You didn’t see look in
her eyes when she saw me!” – Well, what did you do? – “I just give her the old sweet smile and keep going” (J. Updike,
qtd. in Raevska, 74).
Raevska ends the discussion by stating
that there are occasions when the Present Continuous/Progressive serves as a
narrative synonym of the Simple Past as well. It is rich in emotive colouring
and visualizes the events as if it has happened before the eyes of the readers.
The latter turn into participants of the events. The Present Continuous may
also express the mood and the inner turmoil of the characters; it creates
suspense:
Suddenly their
heads cast shadows forward. A car behind them is coming up [my emphasis] the hill. Its lights dilate and sway
around them (J. Updike, qtd. in Raevska 77).
Another scholar (in cooperation with other
authors) who studies the specific features of English stylistics is Morohovsky.
In Stylistics of the English language,
Morohovsky et al. examine the possibilities for stylistic effects open to the
grammatical category tense (87). According to the authors the alternation
between historic present and simple past is quite common for English
narratives. An interesting example they quote is taken from Aldington’s Death of a Hero:
One day George
Augustus announced to the family that he should abandon his Profession and
write. There may be little differences in an English family, for the best of friends
fall out at times, but in all serious
crisis they may be depended upon to
show a united front. Thank God, there can
still be no doubt about it –
[...] an English family can still be relied upon to present a united front
against any of its members indulging in [...] Literature and Art (89).
As already mentioned on a
number of other occasions, and repeated by Morohovsky et al., the present tense
forms can replace past and future forms and invest the narrative with
liveliness and picturesque imagery.
Lastly, we would briefly mention Schiffrin’s research on the historical
present and its co-occurrence with simple past. The article “Tense Variation in
Narrative” studies the ways in which both the past tense and the historical
present (HP) serve as ways to refer to past events in narrative. It also
demonstrates the "rules" of narratives, which determine where the HP
can occur. Seventy-three pieces of data were observed in which three issues are
addressed:
1) constraints on the HP-P variation
2) the functions of the HP in narrative
3) the reasons for the significance of the HP (47)
In this context, narratives are
defined as "oral versions of experience in which events are relayed in the
order in which they presumably occur" (ibid.). Schiffrin also makes the
following observations. On the one hand, “HP is used to increase the dramatic
impact of the story by making the audience feel as if it had been present at
the time of the actual experience" (46). On the other hand, HP is often
used to focus on "events seen by the narrator as most important"
(ibid.). HP “brings to life” past events because it is capable of forcing the
past events out of “their initial temporal frame” and places it inside the
moment of speaking. In order to
understand how Schiffrin breaks such narratives down in order to explain HP
constraints, the following categories are given:
1) Abstract - summarizes the
experience
2) Orientation
clause - describes background information
3) Complicating
action clause - "tells the story by relaying a series of temporally
ordered narrative events" (48)
4) Evaluative
clause - Orientation clause embedded within complicating action clause which
serve to add needed background information
5) External
evaluative clause - "comment on and interpret events for the audience from
a perspetive outside the narrative" (49)
Furthermore, clauses can
all differ in terms of "reference time - a point established in relation
to the time of speaking - and their event time - a point established in
relation to other events" (ibid.). Within this structure, Schiffrin has
found that HP never occurs in external evaluation clauses, abstracts or codas,
and only to a small extent in orientation clauses. However, complicating
action clauses [my emphasis] contained as many as 30% HP; in this case HP
is freed from its task to provide time reference of the activity or event.. She
finds out that "HP and P are
more frequent when the prior verb is in the same tense" (here we might
consider the question of sequence of tenses) and that "switching between
tenses does not occur within single events in a narrative" (51);
rather, it shows a change in action. However, it is only when tense switches occur from HP to P that events
are switching in the narrative. Finally, Schiffrin states that HP is used
primarily in direct quotes. She concludes her lengthy analysis by declaring
that "...the historical present can be seen as one of the grammatical
resources which speakers use to represent their experiences in narrative"
(61).
The above summary of different views
on the subject of temporal variations within a narrative proves that, after
all, English is capable of combining present and past tenses. However, as we
saw, there are certain limitations as far as its frequency and currency are
concerned. Whether translators take them into consideration, we will see in the
next section.
IV. TEMPORAL VARIATIONS IN YOVKOV AND THEIR
TRANSLATIONAL EQUIVALENTS
The theoretical points we discussed above illustrate the peculiarities of
English and Bulgarian temporal systems and their categories – tense and aspect.
It is evident that tense alternations are typical of Bulgarian narratives and
are a source of stylistic effects. English, however, poses certain dubious
issues. On the one hand, we have the strict rules of tense sequence and
backshift and past simple as the usual device for narrating; on the other hand
there are some examples that display a certain tendency in narratives to employ
temporal variations. What is the actual situation when we come to translation?
Are the transpositions ignored? To answer these questions, we will investigate
the tense transitions in one of the most challenging Bulgarian authors – Yordan
Yovkov. His works, especially The Legends
of Stara Planina, display a masterful handling of time and space that
exerts all the strength and powers a reader or a translator is capable of.
Temporal alternations in Yovkov’s works have most probably put many translators
into an extremely difficult situation. This is so because of the characteristic
stylistic effects they create. It comprises one of the most peculiar features
of Yovkov’s style. Here Yovkov is not simply the writer, the narrator or the
artist. Yovkov becomes a cameraman, who can skillfully combine different angles,
perspectives, zoom-ins and zoom-outs. All these complex cinematographic effects
he is capable of achieving only through the interplay of past and present (Lilov,
20). Ivan Sarandev, in
his memorable study of the Legends of
Stara Planina, explicitly claims that Yovkov aims at ambiguity, even
anonymity. He hides in the various perspectives - temporal variations, changes
of mood, the alternations between direct and indirect speech, etc. The author
appears now and then only to make room for the narrator and the other
characters. He is both an observer and an eyewitness (Sarandev, 76-77). This play of temporal perspectives achieves
not only a strong emotional and legendary colour and tone, it also becomes an
inseparable part of his artistic world. All these shades and nuances of
meanings are masterfully illustrated by his famous short stories “Shibil” and
“Koshuta”. Are they preserved in the translations?
The two translations of “Shibil”, we are going to
discuss are made by John Burnip (JB) and Marco Mincoff (MM).
Present-Past and Past-Present temporal variations in “Shibil”
/table 1/
|
1 |
Оригинален
текст/ Source Language |
JB
|
MM
|
|
1a |
Минаха търговци и
хайдутите
ги спряха...
Отдалеч той отваря
приказка за
туй за онуй, споменава
за Велико
кехая и
най-после заговорва
за Рада.
Хайдутите гледат
в земята и изгарят
от срам.
Шибил пуща
търговците
да си вървят, изпраща
ги донйде и
високо им заръчва
да носят
много
задраве на
Рада |
Just at that time some merchants were going by and the brigands stopped them. From a distance, he started a conversation about this and that, mentioned Veliko the Crier, and finally began to speak about Rada. The brigands looked at the earth
and burned with shame. Shibil let the merchants go their way, accompanied them so far, and loudly ordered them to give the best wishes
to Rada. |
It was just then that
some merchants passed and the
haidouts had stopped them. He began to beat about the bush, talking of this and that, mentioned
Veliko the kehaya, and at last spoke of Rada. The haidouts looked on the ground, burning with shame. Shibil let the merchants go, accompanied them a part of their way
and called out loudly to them to
carry his greetings to Rada. |
|
1b |
И
все пак те бяха
неспокойни...И
те по-близо се
навеждат
един към
друг, шепнат
си и гледат
как Шибил се
върти в съня
си, как пъшка
и приказва
нещо. Тогава
те станаха... |
And yet they were
restless... And they bent
closer to each other, whispered and
watched Shibil twisting in his sleep, groaning and saying something. Then they rose... |
And yet they were
restless... And they bent closer
together, whispering and glancing at Shibil as he turned
about in his sleep, groaning and muttering something. Then they rose... |
|
1c |
Три
предпазливи
удара , тихо
пошепнато :
:”Аз съм
Мустафа”, вратата
се
отваря и той влиза
в бащината
си къща. На
огнището гореше
огън, сенки играеха
по стените.
По главите и
пищовите на
Шибил блясват
отражения.
Висок и
снажен,
къщата
сякаш беше
тясна за
него. |
Three cautious knocks, a cautious whisper: “It’s
me Moustafa”, the door opened and
he entered his parent’s house. A
fire burned in the hearth, shadows
played on the walls. Reflections shone on the hilts of Shibil’s pistols,
on his pouches and on the tassels of his knapsack. Tall and well-built, he made the house seem small for him. |
Three cautious knocks, softly whispered: “It’s me,
Mustafa,” and the door was opened.
He entered his father’s house. On
the hearth the fire burned,
shadows played on the walls. On
the butts of Shibils’ pistols, his cartridge-cases, the tassels of his
wallet, danced the reflections.
Tall and manly, the house seemed
too small for him. |
|
1d |
От
стр. 168:
Разказът се
води в
сегашно
време и
преходът е
сегашно-минало: Горе,
на
Черковното
кафене, до
разтворения
прозорец седят кърсердаринът
Мурад бей и
Велико
кехая. ... |
It is still a narrative in the past: Above, at the cafe by the church, by the open
window, sat Mourad Bey the watch
and Veliko the Crier. |
The narrative turns to present: Up at the coffee-shop by the church at the open
window sit the kurserdar Murad Bey and Veliko the kehaya. |
|
1e |
Но
ето: Рада стоеше на
портата,
отдолу идеше
Мустафа.
Кърсердаринът
и Велико
кехая тичат
към
прозореца... Мустафа
върви
по средата
на улицата.
Върху
покриви
върху овошки
грее слънце.
Далеч в
дъното на
улицата се виждат
планините,
където
Мустафа беше цар. Няма оръжие
по него. Но
как е
прeменен! Дрехи
от синьо
брашовско
сукно, сърма
и злато.
Тънък и
висок, малко
отслабнал,
малко почернял,но
хубав и
напет. В
ръцете му
броеница от
кехлибар и
стрък
червен
карамфил –
броеницата
от бея,
карамфила
от Рада. [my emphasis, used to
highlight the verbless clauses]
Той е
близо, гледа
към Рада, гледа я и се
усмихва. |
But there, Rada was standing at the gate, and Moustafa was coming up the road. The Watch and Veliko the Crier ran towards the window... Moustafa was
walking up the middle of the street. On roofs, on fruit trees the sun was shining. Far away at the bottom
of the street could be seen the
mountains where Moustafa was king.
He was not armed. But how he was dressed! His clothes were of blue Brashov cloth,
embroidered in gold. Slim and tall, a little emaciated, a little dark, but
handsome and dashing. In his hands were
an amber rosary and a single red carnation, - the rosary from the Bey and the
carnation from Rada. He was near
now, looking at Rada, looking at her and smiling.. |
And then – Rada stood in the gateway, from below came up Mustafa. The kurserdar
and Veliko the kehaya run to the window... Mustafa walks
along the middle of the street. On the roof and fruit trees shines the sun. Far away, at the end
of the street one sees the
mountains where Mustafa was king.
He carries no weapons. But what
clothes! A suit of blue Wallachian cloth, braided with gold. Slim and tall,
somewhat gaunt, somewhat sunburnt, but handsome and gallant. In his hands a
rosary of amber and a red carnation – the rosary from the Bey and the
carnation from Rada. He is
close now, looking at Rada and smiling. |
|
1f |
...отива
до
прозореца и размахва
червената
кърпа.Припукаха
пушки.
Стъклата на
прозорците,
къщите се
залюляха,
върху
земята
сякаш падна
черна
сянка....(продължава в плана
на спомена)...Тя
тичаше
към него и простираше
ръце... От
Черковното
кафене, от
прозореца, някой
отчаяно размахваше
бяла кърпа. |
....went
to the window and waved the red
kerchief. Muskets
cracked. The panes of the windows rattled, the houses rocked, something like a black shadow
fell over the earth... She was running towards him and holding out her arms...From the cafe
by the church, from the window, somebody was
desperately waving a white
kerchief. |
...and waves
the red kerchief from the window. The muskets ring out. The window panes rattle,
the houses rock, a black shadow seems to fall on the earth... (it
continues in the present simple)...She runs
to him with outstretched arms... From the window of the coffee-shop by
the church, somebody is desperately
waving a white kerchief. |
In “Shibil” there are six instances of past-present and present-past
temporal alternations. From the table it is conspicuous that temporal
variations are not easily “transferable” into the English grammar. But let us
consider the possible variants of translation and look for any compensatory
mechanisms, which can accomplish the same stylistic effect (if there are such).
First we have to
distinguish between two types of temporal variation:
1) the narrative is carried out in the past with an occasional transpose to
the present – such
are the first three instances
2) the narrative is carried out in the present with an occasional transpose
to the past – it starts on p. 168 when
the narrative in the past halters – spatially and orthographically, i.e. it is
separated as an autonomous part in the story and the place of the narration had
also changed – the woods gives place to the coffee house and the main street of
the town.
Within these two types we can discern
two other subtypes:
a) intra-paragraphic
– the tense variation is within the paragraph itself.
b) inter-paragraphic – the tense variation
coincides with the beginning of a new paragraph.
If we look at the table, we will see that the two translations differ in
some respect. Let us take the first temporal alternation (1a). This is an
instance of the intra-paragraphic variation. The narrative sustains its typical
legendary voice in the first sentences, but then it gives place to the present.
The stylistic effect is more than obvious – the “eye” of the narrator is
focused on Shibil, on his internal fight, on the choice he is about to make –
to leave the outlaw life and to surrender to love. The intentional choice of
the iterative and imperfective after the aorist for the verbs in present tense
(отваря,
споменава,
заговорва,
гледат, изгарят,
пуща,
изпраща,
заръчва) creates a sustained sense of restlessness (similarly
maintained in English by past simple forms of the verbs, though stylistically
unmarked). Yovkov narrates the previous sentences in the aorist and puts the
readers away from the scene. All of a sudden he shortens the distance, simply
by disappearing from the text (by switching to present). He makes the reader an
“eyewitness” who immediately watches the internal struggle of the protagonist.
The change of the temporal plane hinders the development of the action. It
makes the reader stop and watch closely the enormous change that is going on in
Shibil’s soul. Why haven’t the translators used the convenient would + infinitive construction if they
shrink from using the present tense? Would suggests a recurrent, or iterative habit or
state of mind in the past and is used in narratives. Often would is used to indicate a characteristic behaviour in the past,
with a trace of criticism (we consider the case her to be similar). It also
carries emotive nuances. JB uses once the past progressive, a common tense for
narration in the English language with more visualizing effects, but then he
continues the whole narration in the past simple, whose immanent feature is to
signal consequence of events. However we should not forget that past simple is
often used in narratives of past events, both historical and fictional (see
Leech). The dramatism and the tension in the scene are completely lost and
neutralized. Similarly, MM decides to carry out the narration in the past and
to resort to one instance of past perfect, which seems to be quite illogical.
The past perfect refers to some past moment that happened before another past
moment, but obviously this is not the case here. Later he insists on continuing
the narration in past simple, and referring from time to time to participial
clauses (namely –ing participles), which create immediacy and simultaneity,
especially if we compare them with the neutral use of past simple. However,
they do not come up to the effect of present tense in the Bulgarian version,
but are a good grammatical variant. If we follow Schiffrin’s logic, though
referring exclusively to oral narratives, we may justify the translators’
choice by indicating the fact that there is no change in the action – the main
stimulus for tense variations in English. Moreover, the verbs that open the
passage are in the past tense and that necessitates the rules of the sequence
of tenses. We may also keep in mind the lexical aspect of which Duškova,
Jespersen and A. Danchev speak, namely that certain shades of aspectual
meanings may be embodied within the predicates, e.g. start a conversation, speak of, look, burn with shame, etc. may easily be associated with imperfectivity.
As has already been stated, the syntactic structure is also a dominant factor
in this respect. Thus, the grammatical meaning of the verbs (completeness and
sequence of the activities) in the last sentence (in JB and MM) may be said to
be dependent on the structure as a whole: e.g. “...accompanied them a part of
their way and called out loudly to them to carry his greetings to Rada”. As
such the sentence becomes a relatively good variant of the Bulgarian one, which
obviously carries the same grammatical characteristics.
The second instance of temporal variation (1b) is again
intra-paragraphic. The aorist that opens the paragraph again gives way to the
present tense. The narrator yields his standpoint to Shibil’s men. He leaves
the readers next to the outlaws, places them (the readers) besides the fire,
lets them listen to their talk and makes them sense Shibil’s anxiety. The
narrator is again distanced from the place and time and the readers are in the
position of immediate observers, even participants. Mutafchiev in his “Tense
Variations in a Narrative of Past Events” claims that this change (plane of
reminiscence > plane of visualization) is typically used to concretize the
verb in the past tense (316). Thus, all the verbs that follow “бяха
неспокойни”/“were restless” are concrete visualizations of the
condition of being restless and slow down the rhythm a little bit for the
reader to comprehend every single detail. Once again, JB insists on the past
simple tense, which expresses consequent events and keeps the reader outside
the narration. He uses the watch + NP
+ -ing construction to hint at the duration of the action, namely at it being
repeated many a night. Thus the English reader is at least capable of partly
feeling Shibil’s agony and uneasiness. MM resorts to the past simple, too and
as earlier to the participial clauses: “whispering and glancing... groaning and
muttering...” Imperceptibly MM achieves a sort of a structural parallel (by
means of the –ing participles) between Shibil’s state of mind and that of his
followers. This equation is undoubtedly burdened with dramatism. However, has
Yovkov himself aimed at such an effect? Probably, he relied more on the
compiling of iterative and imperfective verbs to contrast the preceding
descriptive scene, which lacked dynamism, but was full of tension and reached
its culmination in the outpouring of verbs in the present. Yet, it seems that
MM have managed to compensate the lack of temporal variation by his choice of
combining past simple and participial clauses, though the latter lacks any
stylistic effects and yet manages to preserve the linguistic points.
The next scene is not in the woods (1c).
It is at his father’s threshold. The step that he has to make is the passing
from the world outside laws into the realm of the family. The reader makes this
step together with Shibil. The intra-paragraphic interplay of imperfect, aorist
and present gives the reader a chance to be in and outside the room
simultaneously. The paragraph opens with verbless clauses and quiet whispers.
There is a feeling of tension and secrecy, which resolves in the next clause. The door opens, but we are never sure
who does this – Shibil or his mother. The next moment the narrator is in the
room again, describing it to us. Then he leaves us with Shibil – we look at him
and we see the glittering of the guns, the barrels (in the plane of
visualization). This symbol of his old life reflects the flames of the fire and
these reflections, at the same time, signal for the other fire burning his
heart. Have any of the translators managed to seize this pulsation of flame,
time and narrative? This time there is no difference between the two
translations. The translators have made the same choices in terms of grammar.
There are slight differences only in terms of the lexical meanings of the
chosen nouns and verbs, which are of no concern to this paper. JB and MM have
decided to keep everything in the past simple tense, though it seems they could
have used the past progressive for the Bulgarian imperfect, which obviously
implies duration and incomplete activities. Instead they choose the unmarked
and neutral past simple which creates no stylistic effect. But we may say that
it keeps the grammatical meanings, since verbs like shine, burn, play are commonly seen as incomplete /imperfective/ as
is the case with the Bulgarian predicates.
From that moment on, the plane of
narration changes – everything turns to present. This is an instance of
inter-paragraphic variation, or as Schiffrin claims there is a change in the
action. The place of narration is
different – a coffee house (1d), the characters are different and Yovkov
himself, as already mentioned, has marked orthographically this second part of
the text and positioned it within a different narrative voice. The narrator
himself is outside, away from the scene. The reader holds the camera and is
part of the scene itself. This is fulfilled through the PH with which this part
begins. Piece by piece,
step by step, Yovkov introduces us to the new place and the new characters,
gives us “a new perspective” if we follow Lilov’s logic. Mutafchiev views this
use of the plane of visualizations as a descriptive syntagm. The narrator is
distanced from the story. The piling of present tense verbs, which are
predominantly of the iterative and imperfective aspect, creates pressure onto
the readers. They anticipate the climax but PH withholds it. Then suddenly
(1e), Yovkov grants the readers the permission to enjoy the climatic moment by
referring back to the plane of reminiscence. The narrator enters the scene
again and the tense changes – it becomes imperfect. The next sentence is again
in the plane of visualization with an extreme close-up on Veliko and the bey.
The eye of the camera soon moves to Rada and Mustafa. We see every single
detail of his clothes, his hands, the red carnation and the rosary. There is a
sense of misgiving and restlessness. It is achieved by the one-member
sentences, predominantly nominative, in the description of Mustafa. This short
paragraph is a direct echo of Rada’a description earlier in the text, which actually triggers
Shibil’s metamorphoses. As Vera Marovska points out this moment enhances the
feeling that the two characters are actually co-related, one is the mirror
image of the other (193). Yovkov’s choice of the present tense over the
“natural” imperfect that would definitely suit the occasion is more than
obvious and one can easily feel the contrast with the past “was” that Yovkov
decides to preserve for the mountains, where his kingdom used to be. Just like
with the scene in his father’s house, Shibil is torn between two realities –
one of the outlaw life and murders, and the other of love and happiness. The
absence of predicates leaves the moment hovering in the air. The readers are
now fully engaged in the scene. MM carries out the narrative line in the
present and sticks to the one-member nominative sentences. He even slightly
deviates from the source text by turning an exclamatory clause with a verb into
a one-member nominative clause, which is certainly equally expressive – “But
what clothes!” MM closes the paragraph
differently than Yovkov, who accumulates verbs in the present tense and repeats
the verb look
(“гледа”), leading to an emphatic effect.
Instead, he uses again
(as earlier) participial clauses. It is probably so, because the present simple
in English does not carry the same specific features as in Bulgarian, where the
two verbs are in the imperfective aspect, which brings to the forth a
simultaneity of the actions. Verbs in the present simple in English used in one
sentence and joined by a coordinator or asyndetically would merely express
succession of actions and the readers will fail to see that Mustafa is looking
and smiling at the same time, while approaching Rada. Moreover, it is an action
that is not complete and no temporary boundaries are marked. Similarly, JB
closes the paragraph by opting for the –ing participial clauses. Plus, he
preserves the repetition of the verb “look” and achieves the effect of
accumulation that Yovkov is looking for. Furthermore, JB leads the narration in
the past progressive, compensating the lost of the temporal variation as in the
original and correlating, to a certain extent, to the imperfective aspect of
the verbs in this abstract.
The choice that JB makes for these last two
abstracts (1e and 1f), namely the past progressive, is also justified by its
function to form a certain temporal frame around other verbal forms, expressed
by the past simple. Hence the temporal frame created by the two polar objects –
Rada and Moustafa, form the boundaries within which Veliko, the murderers and
the bey are situated; they are included with the two, and in this sense they
are insufficient themselves. They are unimportant, hence, secondary. Here the
translator has come close to Yovkov’s impressions – the imperfect tense and the
imperfective aspect that the author uses carry the same grammatical functions
(Cf. стоеше,
идеше).
Yovkov’s camera eye follows in close-up
every movement of Shibil, Veliko and the bey, thus signalling that the
resolution and moment of revelation is at hand. The anguish of the climatic
moment, when Rada and Shibil are seen on the street (1e), JB captures, as we
already mentioned, by selecting the past progressive, which lends to the scene
not only duration, but also the sense of incompleteness. The prolongation of
the action leaves the two suspended in the air.
MM has decided to be faithful to the author and to preserve the transit
from the past to present as a main tense of narration. (Surprisingly, he does
not remain consistent with the changes. He preserves the present for the rest
of the story and disregards all other transpositions.) The moment of Rada’s and
Shibil’s appearance, he chooses to preserve as in the original text. He opts
for the past simple (stood, came),
which is typically associated with the aorist in Bulgarian and on rare
occasions with the imperfect (which is the tense in the source text), A.
Danchev in his contrastive study of aspectuality insists that imperfect tense
is wrongly associated in English with past progressive. On the contrary, Simple
Past suits it best. Then the two past forms in MM are followed in the next
sentence by present simple (run).
There is a feeling of distancing the reader from the scene, even though not as
emblematic as in the source text. The past all of a sudden reminds us that we
are outside the action and there is someone else telling the story. Mutafchiev
in his seminal study on temporal change, claims that such a variation in tense,
as this one, is characterizing a new moment in the narration. Here, the author
wants to introduce Rada and Shibil again. And this is signalled not only by the
change of time but also by a word ето (JB: but there; MM: and then). This is one of the commonest cases when the author
decides to change the planes of narration (the plane of visualization gives way
to the plane of reminiscence, see Mutafchiev, 315).This temporal variation also
betrays the psychological pressure that the observers (the bey and Veliko)
feel.
The last temporal
inter-paragraphic alternation (1f) comes at the very end of the story. The present is
conquered by the aorist and the imperfect that continues to the very last
sentence. On the one hand, it serves to pinpoint the last stage of the story –
the denouement. On the other hand, its aim is to forward the action, to hasten
the pace of the narration (Mutafchiev, 314). The narrator comes back to the
story to draw the curtains and give us the concluding lines. JB, who has
already been carrying out
the translation in the past simple continues in the same way, without
changing the tone at all. However, when
the tense changes from aorist to imperfect, aiming at imperceptible
simultaneity of the actions, the scene
freezes, we watch breathless. JB achieves almost the same grammatical effect through his choice of the past progressive –
dynamics, incompleteness and immediacy. Furthermore, as we have seen, the past
progressive forms frame temporal boundaries within which the transaltor locates the past simple forms – the
frame being “was holding” and “was waving”. These two forms also create the
feeling of incompleteness, of an open end, achieved in Bulgarian by the
imperfect tense of imperfective verbs.
MM has a drastically contrasting view on that episode. He sustains the present simple tense.
As we mentioned earlier, for Leech this tense, the so-called “fictional present”, has a
great dramatic effect and potentiality. Yet, the narrator is left outside the
process. In Yovkov’s text, the narrator is present at the death scene. The
legendary tone (past) closes the tale. The translator should keep that in mind.
The readers and the narrator are observers, a little bit distanced by the
imperfect tense and probably this impels MM to choose the present progressive
for the final statement. It seems as if the hand can still be seen waving from
that window. Schiffrin’s analysis of narratives and tense variation shows that
typically narratives conclude in the past simple, which more or less closes the
frame. This fact undoubtedly questions Marco Mincoff’s choice. Though Schiffrin
bases her theory on purely oral narratives, there is cerain connection between
the oral and the written style. Let us not forget the way PH started
functioning as a rival of Simple Past in many languages. The oral
tradition weaved its way to the written texts.
In summary , we may state that
the historic present in variation with past in “Shibil” is used in the
following occasions. When we have the plane
of reminiscence > plane of visualization alternation, it is used:
-
to mark a certain change of the state of
mind of the hero(s), typically by describing the actions, or the thoughts as in 1a.
-
concretization or visualization – 1b
-
to create contrast between two different
stages in the devlopment of the action – 1c
- to describe the outward appearance of a character – 1d.
The plane of visualization > the plane of reminiscence:
-
to
mark a change in the narrative – change
of time, place, perspective and characters – beginning of 1d, 1e and 1f
In the analyzed translations, we have only
two situations where PH is translated as present simple in English, i.e. where
the temporal variations are preserved:
-
to
mark a change in the narrative, especially different time and place –1f. and 1e
and the beginning of 1d (MM)
-
description
of the hero – 1d (MM)
It seems that in “Shibil” tense is one of the characters,
or at least it appreas that two different characters use two different planes
of narraton, one of the narrators is inside and the other is outside Shibil,
and at the end they seem to immerse into one another and depersonalize Shibil
(by equating him to a carnation) at the moment of his death.
IV.2. TEMPORAL VARIATIONS IN “KOSHUTA” (“The Doe in the
The translators that have worked on Yovkov’s favourite short story are Michael
Holman (MH) and John Burnip (JB).
Temporal variations in
“The Doe in the
|
2 |
Source language /text/ Оригинален
текст |
MH |
JB |
|
2a |
The narration starts in the present: Ето
там, гдето се
спущат
белите
сипеи откъм
Крайница, в
дола – беше
воденицата
на дяда Цоня. Стоят
върбите, стои
вадата, но
воденицата
я няма.
Останали
са само едни
срутени
дувари,
обрасли с
къпинаи
две-три
греди,
посивели и
сплескани
като гъба.
Защото
всичко това беше
отколе и
днес нито
хората, нито
местата са такива,
каквито бяха едно
време. |
Over there in the valley, where the white screes come down from Krainitsa, that is where Old Tsono’s mill once stood. The willows are still there, and the mill-stream
too, but the mill itself has vanished.
All that remains are some
crumbling walls overgrown with brambles, and a few wooden beams, grey with
age and flattened like fungi. For all this happened long ago, and now neither the people nor the places are what they once were. |
Over yonder, where the white scree drops down towards Krainitsa, in the
vale, was Old Tsono’s mill. The willows are
still standing, the mill-stream remains,
but the mill is gone. Some ruined walls are all that is left, overgrown with brambles, and a few joists, greying and
flattened like mushrooms. Because all this was long ago, and now neither the folk nor the places are as they once were. |
|
2b |
Дядо
Цоно беше
стар човек. Всички
стари хора са
приведени и
докато
младите гледат
нагоре,
старите отпаравят
погледа си
надолу и гледат земята
която скоро
ще ги
прибере. Но
дядо Цоно не беше
само
приведен, а
от някаква
болест беше
прегънат
надве и не можеше
да
ходи инак,
освен като..... (continues in the past) |
Tsono was
an old man. Old people all bend
low, and while the young look
upwards, the old cast their eyes
down and look at the earth that
will soon take them to itself. But old Tsono did not have a mere stoop: some disease had bent him almost double, and the only way he could walk... |
Gaffer Tsono was
an old man. All old people are bent
and, while the young look upwards,
the old direct their glances
downwards and look at the earth
which will soon gather them in. But old Tsono was not merely bent
but was simply folded double by
some disease and could not walk except by... |
|
2c |
Друг
беше
Стефан. Доде
го видиш,
че излиза
из село, току
виж, озовал
се над
водениицата
щръкнал на
баира....(continues in the past) |
Stefan was
different. Hardly had
you seen him leave the village
than there he stood, big and tall,
erect on the skyline above the mill... (continues in the past) |
Stefan was
different. No sooner do you see him leaving the village than
there he is all of a sudden
finishing up over the mill, standing erect on the hillside... (cont. in the
past) |
|
2d |
....Той – застанал
отвън плета, тя
отвътре. Тя – руса,
синеока,
срамежливо
навела очи,
той – мургав, с
широки
плещи, с
малка черна
брада, който обкръжва
лицето, но не
го закрива. Тънките му
устни се
усмихват, но
очите му си остават
остри, тъмни
с по едно
пламаче
вътре в зеницата,
в което гори сякаш
лоша мисъл. (the
narrative continues in the past both in English and Bulgarian) |
They would talk in some hidden corner in
the garden...While he stood outside
the wattle fence, she stood inside.
She was fair, her eyes blue and
modestly cast down. He was
swarthy, with broad shoulders and a small black beard that framed his face but did not cover it completely. His thin lips smiled,
yet his eyes remained dark, each
with a tiny flame in the centre, lit
as if by some evil thought. |
The used to chat in some secluded corner
in the garden...He remaining outside the fence and she – inside. She was fair, blue-eyed, shyly looking down, he- swarthy, with
wide shoulders, a little black beard which encircled his face but did
not hide it. His thin lips smiled,
but his eyes stayed sharp, dark,
with a little flame inside, in the pupils, in which something like a wicked
thought glowed. |
|
2e |
....Стефан
срещна
и циганите
дървари,
весели,
лъснати от
слънцето,
накичени с
цвете. “Къде
е кошутата?”
те го гледат,
като че ли гледат
мечка. Измерват
с очи
високата му
снага, измерват
дългата му
пушка. И мълчат. А
като отминат
той ги чува
да вдигат
врява на
своя език. |
Stefan met
the gypsy woodcutters too, carefree folk, aglow from the sun and with flowers
in their hair. “Where is the doe?” They look
at him as if at some bear, cast
their eyes over his tall figure and his
long gun – and say nothing.
But when they had passed, he heard them break into fearsome cackle
of gypsy speech. |
Stefan also met
some gipsey woodcutters, jolly men, shining from the sun, decked with
flowers. “Where is the roe-deer?” They looked
at him as if they were looking at
a bear; their eyes measured his
tall figure, measured his long
musket. And they kept silence. And
when they had passed by, he heard them raising an awful hubbub in
their own tongue. |
|
2f |
За
ловеца
винаги остава
някоя
надежда и
някое
непрогледно
място. Стефан
ходи
до мръкване
и когато
вече не
виждаше
нищо
друго.....(continues in the past) |
For a hunter there is always hope, always some place unexplored. Stefan walked until nightfall and when he could see nothing but .... |
For the hunter there is always some hope left and some unexplored place. Stefan walked until twilight and when he could not see anything in.... |
|
2g |
Дойна
излезе
на двора, погледна
месеца, ... и спря
на онова
място, гдето
се срещаха
със Стефана.
Не се чуват
стъпки, не иде
никой.
Тогава тя излезе
навън.
Целият
Боцур се
белее, като
че е послан с
бели платна.
Планината се отпуснала, почива.
... Едно
прозорче свети там,
едно око гледа,
окото на
Стефан. (continues in the present) |
Doina
came out into the courtyard, glanced at the moon...stopping at the spot where she and Stefan used to meet. She heard no footsteps; no-one was coming. Then she came out into the street. The whole
of |
Doina came
out into the yard, looked at the
moon... and stopped at the spot
where she and Stefan used to meet.
No steps were heard, nobody came. Then she went outside. The whole of Botsour was white as if spread with white cloth. The mountains had relaxed, were resting....One little window shone there, one eye was
looking, - the eye of Stefan. (continues in the past) |
|
2h |
И
тя върви
без да знае
какво прави,
без да може
да се възпре.
Какво има,
ако отиде
да посрещне
Стефана?
Сега е Заговезни.
Сега хората се
прощават, прегръщат
се и се
целуват... Прегръщат
се и се
целуват. |
And she set
off, not knowing what she was
doing, quite unable to resist. What if she did go to meet Stefan? It was the eve of a fast, when people forgive one another, embrace
and kiss... |
And she went,
without knowing what she was doing,
without being able to restrain herself. What if she went to meet Stefan? This was
St. Peter’s Eve. At this time people forgave
each other, embraced, kissed ....embraced and kissed. |
|
2i |
И
тя върви
напред, не върви
а лети. Спуща
се в дола и възлиза
нагоре. (present) ............................................. “Стефан
гони
кошутата – мисли си тя, -
чакай до го
излъжа.” И
като се сниши зад
шубраците, поблея
като кошута. |
On she went,
not walking – flying. Down into the valley and up the other side. (past) ............................................. “Stefan is hunting the doe,” she thought, “Wait, I’ll play a trick on
him.” And crouching down behind the bushes, she bleated like a doe. |
And she walked
on, - not walked, flew. She went down into the hollow and went on up.. ....................................... “Stefan is hunting the roe,” she thought to herself, “now I’ll have
him on.” And bending low behind the undergrowth, she bleated like a roe. |
|
2j |
Сянката
на голям
човек се
мярна пред
воденицата.
Това е
Стефан. Той гледа
разклатените
клони и ясно вижда
кошутата. Тя е
голяма и
черна.... И ето,
под
кошутата се явява
жена,
месецът огрява
лицето й,
косата й...
Стефан трепва, тегли се назад,
търси
нещо да се
опре. Цяла
огряна от
месеца жената
е
пред него.
Дойна. -
Дойне!
– вика
той. – Дойне, ти
ли си? Тя се
смее......................... Тя се
радваше,
защото го
виждаше... (the text concludes in
the past) |
The shadow of someone large appeared in front of the mill. It was Stefan. He looked at
the moving branches and clearly saw the
doe. It was big and black...Then,
beneath the doe, a woman appeared,
the moon lighting her face and her hair... Stefan started, drew back and searched
for something to lean on. Shining in the moonlight the woman was standing before him. It was Doina. “Doina! He cried.
“Doina, is it you?” She laughed...
(The story continues in the Past Simple to the end). |
The shadow of a large man appeared before the mill. It was
Stefan. He looked at the disturbed
branches and clearly saw the roe.
She was big and black.... And
there, under the roe, appeared a
woman, the moon lighting her face, her hair... Stefan shook, drew back, sought
something to lean on. All bathed in moonlight, the woman was before him. Doina. “ Doina,” he called,
“Doina is it you?” She laughed.
(It continues in the Past Simple Tense) |
The first extract (2a) is an example of the
so-called “narrative norm”, where the temporal variation is objectively used,
namely it is predetermined by the different time-references, or temporal
spheres. This first instance of temporal variation actually opens the short
story itself and it provides the initial impression of the story. The narrator
offers a photographic image of the old mill and the screes. The narrative
strats with a description in present tense, the time reference is present. The
narrator and the readers are standing on the mountain hills and watching. This
is illustrated by JB’s use of the present progressive (“are still standing”). Then the author starts remembering, and now
we turn to the plane of reminiscence, which is the only possible choice for
retrospections and flashbacks. The translators has obviously followed the same
kind of logic because both MH and JB have strictly followed the tenses and
their translational equvalents are exact copies of the original texts.
Obviously, there is a good reason to believe that the objective narrative norm
is universal and valid for English narratives too, or as Quirk et al. state –
there exists “a natural alternation”of tenses in narratives (1454).
The next instance (2b) of temporal
variation is again, more or less, part of the narrative norm. Here we have the
so-called “gnostic” present, which refers to the English “timeless” present, or
present for universal truths. The uses of the present tense in this meaning
fully coincide in the two langugaes. Irrespective of the sequence of tenses
(the fact that the extract has started in the plane of reminiscence), the
narrator freely translates the sentence using the present tense. As already
meantioned, in Kmetova’s analysis, when we have references to universal
statements sequences of tenses may be disreagrded. We have a concrete situation
(old Tsono’s being bent) which triggers a universal one – all old people bend
down. That is why, it is not surprising that the translators did capture this
and translated it with the respective temporal variations. Unfortunately,
tthese variations (2a. and 2b.) carry no stylistic effects and are only part of
the “normal” use of the two tenses.
The next example (2c) of tense variation
is curious because of its drastically different translational eqivalents, but
similar emphatic syntactic structures, namely fronting with inversion. JB’s
translation is in the present simple with fronting of the adverbial phrase “no
sooner”, and MH’s translation features past perfect and past simple with fronting of the adverbial
“hardly” . Though the Bulgarian sentence is not so emphatic in
its structure, but is only rich in creating a sense of action and movement,
both translators felt a strong stylistic effect in it and chose the inversion
for its translation. True, however, their choice may be a reflection of the
imagery here- the metaphor, bordering with hyperbole (the hawk and the
sparrows) in the description of Stefan. There is also the sense of a certain
immediacy of perception, achieved by the pronoun “you” and the comment clause “току
виж”. Still, MH’s choice, obviously follows the sequence of
tenses – the passage starts with past simple and logically it should continue as it has already
started - in the
past. More unexpected is the variant of John Burnip (which is grammatically
viewed the better equivalent of the Bulgarian statement). However, his
translation seems a direct transference from Bulgarian and is unmotivated,
since all the rest of the paragraph is carried out in the past simple. Yet, the
vividness at which Yovkov aims is maintained equally well by both of them, most
probably due to the syntactic constructions they select. JB seems to have perceived the
description of Stefan as still valid or true, or most probably as so palpably
engraved on the horizon that it can still be seen.
The variation that follows (2d) is like the previous ones –
intra-paragraphic, more exactly it closes the paragraph. As in “Shibil”, Yovkov
masterfully employs the temporal variation, namely past > present, when he
wants to make a close-up on some of his characters and to describe them, in
details and with sincerity. The stylistic effect of the temporal alternation –
immediacy of the image, is enhanced by the syntactic structure of the passage
(resounding the structures Yovkov uses when outlining Shibil and Rada). Again
we have syntactic parallelism, or more exactly antithesis, fulfilled by
contrasting epithets, adverbs and elliptical structures. Hence there is a sense
of rhythm, which reminds us of folklore songs and tales (Marovska 206). The
narration sounds like a staccato; the latter element creates a feeling of
compact and well-arranged story. The whole picture that Yovkov draws becomes
one of contrasts – white vs. black, good vs. evil. What was the translators’
decision? Both JB and MH prefer the simple past; MH splits the elliptical
clauses and inserts predicates in the past tense (hence from 5 in the source
text, they become 9 in his translational equivalent). The syntactical
parallelism is accomplished by repeating roughly the same structures and verbs.
Possibly, MH does not accept the elliptical sentences to be as stylistically
marked and as natural as the Bulgarian ones. Galperin in Stylistics emphasizes that ellipsis in English is rarely used as a
stylistic device, and is typically a colloquial construction i.e. imitates
colloquial language (233). JB also selects the past simple, but he does not
alter the construction, with one exception - he adds was in the second clause. Otherwise, JB preserves the ellipsis, but
not the temporal alternations. Both translators decidedly keep the readers
outside the narration, distanced by the past tense. The Bulgarian verbs are of
the iterative and imperfective aspect, which impels the translators to resort
to past simple since, as already have been mentioned, its best correlative is
the past simple in English. Moreover, there is the meaning of habitual
repetition in the whole extract that has been sustained by the used to (in JB) and would (in MH) constructions. Since the
temporal frame that the two translators have built signals iterative and
continuous activities, then the past simple that closes the passage is actually
what Quirk defines as Habitual Past and then it is the best variant of
translation. Otherwise, present would have been inappropriate within the “used
to/would +infinitive” construction.
The fifth (2e) temporal variation is
intra-paragraphic as well and is placed at the end of the paragraph. It seems
to be triggered by the direct speech: “Where is the roe-deer?” This colloquial
element seems to transfer the narrative in the oral tradition of story-telling
and this had led MH to choose the present tense for the next two sentences.
Still, the stylistic effect of this transposition is to portray the psychological
dramatism of the moment. Stefan is likened to a bear, and then indirectly to
his musket (by means of the parallel: “measured his tall figure, measured his
tall musket”). He is seen as evil – a motif that has been interwoven in the
narrative so far through other devices. To make this perception more palpable
Yovkov resorts to the present. Once again the historical present serves as the
basis of the character’s description, this time seen through the eyes of the
gypsies. In contrast to MH, JB sustains the repetition of the verbs: looked, was looking, measured, measured
(“гледат,
гледат,
измерват,
измерват”) and enhances the stylistic effect of the
simile. MH disregards the repetitions and reduces the number of verbs to
two - look and cast.
The temporal variation may also be situated at the beginning of the
paragraph, i.e. it is inter-paragraphic (2f). It has an introductory function –
its meaning is then illustrated by the following paragraphs. The example we are
discussing here is an instance of the so-called “gnostic” present or “timeless”
present, highlighted by the adverb always
(винаги) and hence the transposition bears no
stylistic nuances. It is another example of the narrative norm. As such it is
translated by both translators, being valid at all times and independent of
time references.
The end of the story shifts its focus from
Stefan to Doina and presents us with few more instances of tense variation. 2g)
is an intra-paragraphic variation of the past > present type. The passage
opens with the plane of reminiscence (aorist in Bulgarian and past simple in
English). The description of the background is followed by Doina’s portrayal,
but not of her appearance, but of her actions. Naturally, they are presented by
means of the aorist in Bulgarian and the past simple in English – the only
possibility to express completed activities in sequence. The only imperfect
form срещаха is felt (correctly) by both
translators as a past habitual activity and its equivalent is used to meet.. The sentences in PH are
intricately connected with the preceding one – the place where they used to
meet initiates the following statements as if they are its “concretization”
(see Mutafchiev). Actually what follows re-echo Doina’s thoughts – she listens,
no steps are heard; she looks and sees the Botsour, and then the window. When
we are dealing with unuttered represented speech in English (Galperin 241-3),
sequence of tenses and backshift are inseparable parts of it and the present
becomes past. It is only this that may explain why translators ignored the
series of temporal alternations. The stylistic shades that Yovkov fashions here
are the cinematographic effects we have already encountered in “Shibil” – the
author grants the readers a permission to hold the narrator’s camera and follow
Doina’s eyes – from the mountains, to the moon and the little window. The
camera zooms in and we no longer see a window, but another eye, looking at us.
MH translates this sentence by means of the past progressive – which recreates
the idea of continuation and incompleteness, but the stylistic effect is almost
utterly lost. However, if we assume that this is unuttered represented speech,
then it would be easy to imagine that these are actually Doina’s thoughts: “A
little window is shining, an eye is looking at me, etc.” Hence, we should
justify the translators’ decisions. This presupposition is proven by the next
passage, where we have more clear signs that most of these sentences are
Doina’s thoughts: “What if she went to meet Stefan?” (“Какво
има, ако
отиде да
посрещне
Стефана?”). As we see JB kept the word order of a
declarative clause, while MH used the emphatic do – structure. A curious point
here is that MH has preserved one intra-paragraphic temporal variation. Once
again we are faced with represented speech:
“Сега е
Заговезни.
Сега хората
се прощават, прегръщат
се и се
целуват...
Прегръщат се
и се целуват.”JB
has changed it into the past simple, but MH has obviously perceived as
something universally valid, something that is true at any time and any place.
But we can hardly take MH’s variant to be Doina’s inner thoughts (easily
discernible in the original and JB by the repteition at the end and the dots).
More or less, MH’ sentence reminds of the situation in 2f. Here MH commences the
sentence in the past simple – “was” and then all of a sudden uses the present simple – we are
dealing with intra-sentential variation. He obviously breaks the sequence of
tenses, which is mainly possible in cases where the translators feel the
information is still valid or universally true (Kmetova 103). Furthermore,
MH has once again neglected the repetition and dismissed it, though it carries
stylistic nuances and resounds in Doina’s head like an echo, as if she repeats
the words two times trying to believe in them or dreaming about them. JB has
preserved everything in the passage – punctuation and stylsitic repetition and
it is easier for us te accept his variant as Doina’s thoughts.
However, though the next variation
(2i) is inter-paragraphic and denotes a new action, though it “tells the story
by relaying a series of temporally ordered narrative events” (Schiffrin 48) the
translators do not accept it as a possible alternation in English and preserve
the overall tone of their narratives – the past simple. Hence, the stylistic
effect can only be achieved by means of the accumulation of verbs (as is in
JB), which Yovkov provides as a secondary device next to the temporal
transpositions. The abundance of PH verbs this time does not leave the action suspended
in mid air. On the contrary, we watch her walk, run and fly towards the window
like a moth lured by its light. MH has even omitted two of the verbs and made
the second clause a verbless one, preserving only the adverbial constructions:
“Down into the valley and up the other side”. The feeling of hastiness is
underlined by the absence of the verbs. The narrator once again leaves the
readers alone to watch her. The last sentence of the paragraph is in the
aorist, placing the readers away from the scene, probably deluding them as
well. The translators maintain the spirit of story-telling by being faithful to
the past simple.
The last passage (2j) is no exception
to the analyzed ones so far – the translators preserve the past simple. Yovkov
sets the scene in the plane of reminiscence and then continues in the plane of
visualization, concretizing (see Mutafchiev) the image of the man that has
appeared: “Това е
Стефан”. Now Yovkov leaves Doina and leads the reader to Stefan to
watch every single detail of Stefan’s movements. Once again we are left with
the constant feeling that the whole narration has been carried out by two
different narrators – one of them is omniscient, all knowing God watching and
retelling. The other fuses with his
characters and readers. Lilov claims that Yovkov tends to linger with his
characters, to be a witness of their actions, to follow them everywhere, to
draw the nature, their inner thoughts, and the background. Yovkov is never an
objective observer in his narratives. Lilov terms this attitude of the narrator
as a “subjective contemplation” and remarks that this device suggests that the
facts are presented not from the standpoint of the narrator/author, but from
that of the character. This can be seen in the passage discussed - the writer decides to come closer or to
draw back so as to make more distinct and concrete a given part of the action.
Lilov states that the action is suspended in the air until the author goes back
to the aorist and the imperfect that moves the development of the narrative
forward and finally concludes it (see the end of Chapter II for more details on
Lilov). The succession of present tense imperfective and iterative verbs is
translated in the past simple, with one exception: MH resorts to past progressive
once and he also disregards Yovkov’s one-member clause, rich in emotion and
outpouring the denouement of the story: “Doina.” This one word breaks something
in Stefan – just like Shibil he has been transformed. It is his silent scream.
He has gone all the way from wickedness to goodness. The name of the woman that
Yovkov has kept apart in a separate clause condenses in itself all the feelings
and emotions that he has felt so far. Only JB follows Yovkov’s original text
closely in this respect.
In short, we may outline the following tendencies of present tense in
the short story in Bulgarian:
The
plane of visualization > the plane of reminiscence alternation is used:
- to comply with a
narrative norm - 2a
The plane of reminiscence > the plane of visualization functions:
-
to
designate universal truths, or ‘timeless’ statements – 2b, 2f
-
to
describe the appearance of a character – 2d and 2e
-
to
express the inner thoughts of a
character – 2h and 2g
-
to
relate a succession of activities and events
- 2c,2i , 2j and part of 2g
The translators have preserved the
present tense in the following cases:
- to comply with a narrative norm - 2a
-
to
designate universal truths, or “timeless” statements – 2b, 2f, 2h?(in MH)
-
to
achieve vividness in a description – 2c (in JB) and 2e (only in MH)
In summary, after our study of the
contrast between the plane of reminiscence and the plane of representation in
two Bulgarian short stories, we may establish the following trends in the
respective English translations:
1) the plane of
visualization (present) > plane of reminiscence (past): this variation is
applied within the following parameters – to comply with a certain narrative
norm (2a), to mark a change in perspective
- spatial (1e). In such variations the plane of visualization is
typically expressed by the present simple tense (2a, 1e) and the plane of
reminiscence by the past simple (1e).
As we see out of the 8 (16 in the
Bulgarian text) cases where the translators have followed Yovkov’s temporal
logic, only two fall into this category. One of them is orthographically marked
as detached from the previous past time narrative (the second part of “Shibil”,
1d) and the other exists only in compliance with the narrative norms and is deprived
of any stylistic colouring. Stylistic effects of present > past
transpositions in English are not as variegated as in Bulgarian and may be said
to mark temporally as well as spatially a new perspective in the narrative and
add certain dramatism and vividness to the story-line (1e). The past simple
slows down the action, distances the readers from the immediate perception they
have had with present simple and reminds them that the are outside the
narration and there is someone else telling the story. The dramatic present, as
Jespersen calls it, makes us immediate eyewitnesses, whereas the past simple
pushes the readers towards the background.
2) the plane of
reminiscence > plane of visualization: to indicate universal or “timeless”
statements (2b, 2f, 2h), draw vivid descriptions (1e, 2c, 2e) and mark a change
in the narrative, orthographically justified (1d). What tenses co-exist in this
transpositions? In this type of variation, the plane of reminiscence is
expressed by three tenses- the past simple (2b, 2f, 1f, 1e) the past
progressive (2h) and past perfect (2e) and the plane of visualization by the
present simple (1d, 1e, 2b, 2f, 2h) and the present progressive (1f).
This subclass is presented by three times
as many examples as the previous one – six - which probably may lead us to
believe that this temporal variation is much more common in English than the
previous one. Whether or not the translators made their temporal choices
consciously is not our focal point here, since their being native speakers of
the language leaves much of the translational decision to their
subconsciousness and their native feeling of the English language. Hence, we
will trust their intuition, notwithstanding Holman’s claim that he has never
thought about the tense variations in Yovkov. As we saw many of the decisions
of the translators, though deviant from the original text, were easily
justified by the grammatical rules and norms of the English language. There are
no stylistic effects of the transposition, which signals a timeless, or
universal statement, or information that is still valid. Notwithstanding, there
are some emotive nuances that can be detected in the variations – vivid and
lively descriptions and narratives (1e, 2c, 2e), which is undoubtedly a direct
transference from the oral “historic present”. It also marks change in the time
and place of the narrative, presents the actions in succession and may
accelerate (1f) or slow down (1d) the movement of the story-line.
Temporal alternation is a major
stylistic device in Bulgarian. This is due to the interplay of aspect and
tense, more exactly of the peculiar aspectual system consisting of three
members in Bulgarian. A
further point worth mentioning is the wide use of Praesens Historicum in
Bulgarian fiction, and more specifically its function as a transpositional
metaphor, i.e. its application in past time narratives. In contrast,
English aspectuality is expressed on various levels, and more rarely on a
morphological one (which is the case in Bulgarian). Though it also has present
tense with past time reference, termed dramatic, fictional or historic present,
it is mainly widely used in oral narratives. Yet, there are many examples from
fiction, provided by Raevska, Leech, Jespersen and Quirk, which prove that the
historical present is surely employed by masters of the English prose. Though
still not universally employed at this stage of the language, it is already a
powerful stylisitc strategy. We should not forget that the interplay of temporal planes is widely
used by Modernist, Postmodernist, and Absurdist writers who depict
stream-of-consciousness narratives, such as James Joyce, Virginia Woolf,
William Faulkner, and J. D. Salinger.
Time is a compelling consideration for
every character in Yovkov’s prose. The two love stories we have studied are no
exception. Time is almost an independent character in the tales, leading toward
different, even antithetical paths and roads. It shows and hides, reveals and
conceals, opens or draws the curtain. The short analysis of the four
translations shows that though English and Bulgarian resemble each other in terms
of lexicon, grammar and syntax, when it comes to temporal variations the two
are quite distinct from one another. The temporal variations in “Shibil” and
“Koshuta” are undoubtedly one of its cornerstones for understanding,
appreciation and analysis. Yet, the translators have often disregarded them, or
found them difficult to render in the target language. But as we saw there were
eight instances where the translators, for semantic or syntactic reasons
decided to keep the transpositions. There were also a few occasions where the
translators sought other stylistic devices to compensate for the loss of
temporal variation (probably done on a subconscious level). And it should be
noted that on the various levels of the narration Yovkov has provided other
means of achieving the desired effects – lexical, syntactical, etc. Certainly,
this has also helped his translators to preserve the subtlety and power of his
art. We should not forget that no matter how talented the translators are,
there is always the objective impediment of grammatical asymmetries that often
prevent the interpreters from remaining faithful to the author.
On the whole, we must conclude that
temporal variations are possible for translations into English, though they are
rare. The fact that conversational style allows for such deviance or licence
means that it can also be applied in fiction. Certainly many things have to be
considered – sequence of tenses, backshift, structure of the narrative and last
but not least, the author’s stylistic preferences. If the author extensively
employs a variety of temporal dimensions, the translator should expect these
variations to signal shifts in emotional colouring and seek to convey them, if
possible. Bulgarian language has fewer rules in terms of grammar to follow –
there is a respectively free word order, no sequence of tenses, no backshift,
etc. Hence, we can never anticipate a full correspondence with English.
Native speakers have found John Burnip’s
translations extremely difficult to understand. Did he think that adding the
temporal transitions would detract from the text’s clarity? Yovkov’s other
translator considered here, Michael Holman, while highly appreciative of
Burnip’s work, feared his predecessor’s translations might prove a bit tedious.
What Burnip aimed at was remaining faithful to the author’s stylistic and
compositional effects. Once he wrote to Michael Holman: “ I have tried to
remain as close as possible to the original... the word order, the structure of
the sentences, the stylistic expressions, etc.” (145). Probably all translators
have hoped to capture Yovkov’s unique style and present it in the best possible
way in English, but it is not always attainable. Michael Holman, on the other
hand, admits that his goal was only to make Yovkov intelligible to the English
audience.
Our aim in this thesis has not been to
criticize or second-guess the translators’ decisions. Instead, we have merely
sought to point out a tricky ‘bottleneck’ in Bulgarian fiction that has often
been neglected. In order to convey Yovkov’s subtlety and power, a translator
has to not only know Bulgarian, but also must appreciate the author’s
idiosyncrasies and unique techniques and stylistic features. It is a
translator’s article of faith that literature is always worth translating. The
challenge in translating stories as subtle as Yovkov’s is to follow the
narrative’s tracks through a forest of images, nuances, symbols, and temporal
categories, so as to do justice to the tension and intentions that are there –
and so as not to lose sight of the forest for the trees.
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-----------------. “Time and
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-------------. The Inn at Antimovo and The Legends of Stara
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-------------. “The Doe in the
[1] Тhe past linguistic
tradition termed these three aspectual categories as perfective, primary
imperfective and secondary imperfective aspects (namely свършен,
първичен и
вторичен
несвършен вид).
Recently they have been changed to
imperfective, perfective and iterative (имперфектив,
перфектив и
итератив)
[2] The metaphoric expression “bottleneck” is taken from
his article “On Some ‘Bottlenecks’ in Artistic Translation” published in Linguistic Problems of Translation, ed.
A. Danchev, Sofia: Nauka i Izkustvo, 1986, 151-169
[3] Traditionally this tenses are known as minalo svarsheno and minalo
nesvarsheno (i.e. минало
свършено и
минало
несвършено)
[4] The terms perfective
and imperfective are widely used in
the linguistic literature as equivalents of the Slavic svarshen i nesvarshen
vid, respectively свършен и
несвършен
вид.
[5] Throughout
this review of the Bulgarian temporal system, and if not stated otherwise, all
translations of Bulgarian linguistic terms and quotations are mine.
[6] The imaginary chain with the respective links may be
presented as follows: napsivam=napisha+napish+..... or написвам (iter.)=напиша(СВ/perf.)+напиша+
напиша+.....
[7] Cf. the two texts: “И
представете
си, господа, влизаме
ние с бай
Ганя в
сладкарницата,
приближаваме
се до бюфета,
момата ме поздравява
весело.....”(А.Константинов,
“Бай Ганьо”,
стр.11) и.... влязохме...приближихме...поздрави... (qtd in Mutafchiev 37)
[8] The Bulgarian terms are respectively: план на
нагледността,
план на
спомена, план
на констатацията/конклузива
и план на
преизказността
[9] Leech also differentiates between ‘state’ (e.g. be
live, belong) and ‘event’ verbs (e.g. jump, hit). They correspond to the
traditional stative and dynamic verbs, found in Quirk et al.
[10] Quirk, similarly to G. Leech’s standpoint, regards
verbs as capable of expressing two major meanings: stative and dynamic.
‘Stative’ verbs express an unbroken state in the sentence and include such
verbs as be, have, know, etc.
‘Dynamic’ verbs often imply agentivity and include verbs as attack, drive, speak (48).
[11] His examples include such verbs as пия/изпия,
ям/изям,
правя/направя, etc. Their translational equivalents are respectively
drink, eat, make, etc.
[12] In Czech the sentence is translated as “Jan kouri”; in Bulgarian “Джон пуши” in spite of the fact that one of the activities is
carried out at the moment, while the other means a general statement or a
habit.
[13] The
Bulgarian equivalent would be: “Момичето се
усмихваше.”
[14] The possible translation in Bulgarian that Danchev suggests is “Небето
почерня/потъмня” –
свършен вид
на глагола.
[15] Danchev uses bilingual ‘informers’ and all of them
translate the pair as follows: “Той мразеше
(Imprefect,НСВ)
този/онзи
човек” and
“Изведнъж той
намрази
(Aorist,СВ)
този/онзи
човек”
[16] The translations are respectively: “Той удари
този/онзи
човек” and
“Понякога той
удряше/биеше
този/онзи
човек”
[17] Such sentences, depending on their subject, will be
translated with perfective or imperfective aspect respectively: cf. “Човекът
дойде
отвън” and “Светлината
идваше
отвън.”
[18] The translation of the sentence will be in the
imperfect: “Знаех,
че осемте
лири, които давах
всеки месец....” while if we remove the attribute the aorist will be used: “Знаех,
че осемте
лири които й дадох..”
[19] Depending on whether the action is viewed as
completed or not, we would translate нанял
or нанимал.
[20] Consider the following examples in Bulgarian “Не разрбрах
веднага за
какво става
дума”, “Разбрах,
че имам
работа с
добряк”, “ Мислех, че
Авакум ще
ме заведе в
някой от големите
ресторанти”, etc. (qtd. in Kemtova 99-100)
[21] Consider the translations of the above sentences: “I didn’t immediately realize who he was talking about”, “ I realized I was talking to a kind-hearted fellow”, “I thought that Avakoum might take me to one of the big restaurants”, etc.(qtd. in Kmetova 99-100)