dmakhanlall - Orality. MATX601: Texts & Textuality

The linguistic convergence of oral tradition and written text: the importance of dialectical dialogue in Caribbean fiction.

Imagine life without dialogue; imagine a narrative without dialogue; further yet imagine dialogue in a narrative that does not adhere to the nuances of everyday speech. The rendering of dialogue in its natural state complements and enhances the narrative flow especially when it blends into the narrative flow. In this aspect Mark Twain does an excellent job in bringing his characters to life by capturing their feelings, beliefs and attitudes in their everyday quests with both dialogue and narrative text. However, this blend of dialogue and narrative in West Indian narrative did not lend itself to quick acceptance, and did not become a part of the craft of literature itself until the writing itself was recognized as belonging to world literature. Indeed, it is this blend of dialogue and narrative which fostered this acceptance.

Kenneth Ramchand in his book “The West Indian Novel and its Background” points out that “dialect is a natural part of the equipment of the West Indian novelist, used as a means of narration, and for expressing the consciousness of the peasant character in a wide range of situations. It has been suggested that such a subtle and flexible use of dialect on such a large scale in probably unique in literature” (107). Indeed, the consciousness of the peasant character is captured in the dialect of everyday speech and blends into text, and rightfully holds to the nuances of everyday speech. But how did this realization come about? How did it get into the craft of West Indian fiction?

Emevwo Biakolo is apt in his observation that “speech is related to hearing, the auditory faculty most directly connected with time. The objects of sight, smell, taste, and touch can be arrested in time, but human utterances, the object of hearing, vanishes as soon as it comes into being.” The writer then, on some notion of recreating text from his own personal experience (what he has heard and/or read) recreates the narrative by combining the elements of narration (storytelling) with that of dialogue (communication), and this is accomplished in the language of the text he has favored; thus, the text of the narration and dialogue are fused in the same language, with some slight variations in the dialogue itself, and with one important caveat: dialogue should never distract the reader. The cultural constraints of the text in western writing demand that the language of the text conform in all aspects: the dialogue is then in the same language as the text, and should confirm to the rules and regulations of that language.

But what exactly is the English language? In America, for instance, the text of popular fiction (and literature) is in English, and sometimes with some small dialectical renderings as part of the dialogue; the development and acceptance of English in America has been more a spontaneous historical shift towards a Standard English particularly because everyone is communicating in the same language, and again, except for small pockets where, although various dialects are spoken, they are not the acceptable form of writing.

However, in the West Indian situation this shift from oral to written has had its complexities. Two methods of discourse were frequent: the dialect of the natives and the Standard English used by the educated and ruling class; the dilemma then: should the narrator write for the natives in the native dialect or in Standard English for the educated class? Then again, to what class does this writer belong? For the native writer (ordinary or extraordinary) for him to write in the Standard English he needs to be well-versed (or educated) in the language, and then there is the tendency that the “text” becomes changed because of the education. To get the material out to the public it must be in the form acceptable to the publishers and subsequently the public at that time, and the method at that time demands Standard English because the reading public at that time is considered to be only the upper class. With no means of communication other than the spoken dialect, the natives exist in and within the framework of the dialect. As Louis James observes the “dialect expresses a way of thinking and feeling” for the natives (18), which to a great extent echoes the ideas of Walter Ong.

Emevwo Biakolo aptly observes:

More central to Ong's argument, and correspondingly more contentious, is the claim that since oral cultures have no fixed texts, they organize and transmit knowledge and information in a unique way. Oral thought proceeds, Ong says, “in heavily rhythmic, balanced patterns, in repetitions or antitheses, in alliterations and assonances, in epithetic and other formulary expressions, in standard thematic settings (the assembly, the meal, the duel, the hero's helper,' and so on), in proverbs ... or other mnemonic form” (Orality and Literacy 34).

In other words, at the basis of oral thought and style is memory. As Havelock puts it, the "secrets of orality, then, lie not in the behaviour of language as it is exchanged in the give and take of conversation but in the language used for information storage in the memory" (24). To serve this mnemonic purpose, this language must be rhythmic and narrativized.

Spoken language, in the dialect of the West Indian, is an everyday occurrence, punctuated by fire-side tales of the crafted story tellers, and it is the language of most of the West Indian writer, and is rhythmic and narrativized. To write a story of a local character, then he must, of course, render the dialogue in the native tongue of the character.

Finkelstein and McCleery point out that “the shift from oral to written traditions was often incremental, with individuals versed in the former robustly contesting the validity of the latter” (32). There is some incremental shift in West Indian narrative; earlier works are in standard English, and as writing became more acceptable, West Indian authors began to depict the “thinking and feeling” personality into their characters.

Then, this spoken language, in the dialect, an everyday occurrence, punctuated by fire-side tales of the crafted story tellers, and imaginative discourse, becomes the writing style of the West Indian writer. Laura Tanna points out that “the first extensive collection of Jamaican folklore was conducted by Walter Jekyll and published in 1904 by the Folk-Lore Society [where] he produced a fine collection of narratives, which he preserved in the patois of the day…both the language and music as accurately as possible” (22-3).

Sometimes, this goes (or starts in) the other way; for instance, in earlier works “artificial” dialogue created to mimic everyday dialectical speech is incongruous with reality. Ramchand quotes Willie Sypher’s analysis of a 1942 narrative written as follows “White man tie me mother, and force her and me brother Tankey board ship, and bring them and sell them to me master: me mother take sick and not able to work….” (52). A comparison with V.S. Naipaul’s “The Mystic Masseur” is now necessary.

One day he said, “Leela, is high time we realize that we living in a British country and I think we shouldn’t be shame to talk the people language good.”

Leela was squatting in the kitchen chulba, coaxing a fire from dry mango twigs. Her eyes were red and watery from the smoke. “All right, man.”

“We starting now self, girl.”

“As you say, man.”

“Good. Let me see now. Ah, yes, Leela, have you lighted the fire? No, just gimme a chance. Is ‘lighted’ or ‘lit’ girl?”

“Look, eas me up, man. The smoke going in my eyes.”

“You ain’t paying attention girl. You mean the smoke is

going in you eye.”

Here the dialogue is spontaneous and reflects the “thinking process” that goes on in the mind of the characters, and this is reflected both in the dialogue and in the narrative prose.

As quoted by Louis James (19) this rhythmic balance and flow is also evident in the narrative poem “Song of the Banana Man” by Evan Jones.

I leave m’yard early-morning time

And set m’foot to de mountain climb

I ben m’back to de hot-sun soil

Ploughin’ and weedin’, diggin’ an’ plantin’,

Till Massa Sun drop back o’ John Crow mountain

Den home again to cool evenin’ time…..

As Louis James observes, and as is apparent in the sections quoted above, dialect “is active: the passive tense is usually avoided, reflecting a concern with the present” (18). In the extract from Naipaul the dialogue and text bring alive the personalities of the players; in the Jones’ extract the poem - refer to link to poem in tab opposite - is done in the rhythmic stream-of-consciousness flow; then, the rendering of dialogue in its natural state complements and enhances the smooth flow of the narrative and brings the scenes to life.

Paul Soukup points out “Talk changed too, by becoming more literary. Orators could write out speeches to practice them before delivering them.” This dialogue edited to conform to the text is reported speech and not spontaneous dialogue, but the actual writing of the information in dialect fixes it in time. Dialect is locked into its cultural framework, especially when reported as actual dialogue in works of fiction; better yet, when dialogue and text blend to reflect reality only then is there true craftsmanship in narrative.

The West Indian novel has come a long way in holding its own as a novel that transcends time and space.

Works Cited

Biakolo, Emevwo. "On the Theoretical Foundations of Orality and

Literacy." Research in African Literatures 30.2 (Summer

1999): 42(1). InfoTrac OneFile. Thomson Gale. Virginia

Commonwealth University. 2 Sep. 2006.

Finkelstein, David, and Alistair McCleery. An Introduction to Book

History. New York: Routledge, 2005.
Louis, James. The Islands in Between. London: Oxford University

Press, 1968.

Naipaul, V.S. The Mystic Masseur. London: Andre Deutsch. 1958.

Ramchand, Kenneth. The West Indian Novel and its Background.

London: Faber and Faber, 1970.