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THOR GRÜNBAUM
Abstract
In this article, I argue that the representation of simple, bodily action has
the function of endowing the narrative sequence with a visualizing power.
It makes the narrated scenes or situations ready for visualization by the
reader or listener. By virtue of this visualizing power or disposition, these
narrated actions disrupt the theoretical divisions, on the one hand, between
the narrated story and the narrating discourse, and on the other hand,
between plot-narratology and discourse-narratology. As narrated actions,
they seem to belong to the domain of plot-narratology, but insofar as they
serve an important visualizing function, these narrated actions have a com-
municative function and, as such, they can be said to belong to the domain
of discourse-narratology. In the first part of the article, I argue that a cer-
tain type of plot-narratology, due to its retrospective epistemology and ab-
stract definition of action, is unable to conceive of this visualizing function.
In the second part, I argue that discourse-narratology fares no better since
the visualizing function is independent of voice and focalization. In the final
part, I sketch a possible account of the visualizing function of simple actions
in narratives.
1. Introduction
Most people would agree that a theory of narrative should distinguish be-
tween the story a narrative is telling and the way it is telling its story. That
is, it is common practice in theories of narrative to draw a distinction be-
tween the narrated story and the narrating discourse. Together with this
distinction we find, naturally enough, a division of labor in the study of
of the story. In other words, one can, as Barthes famously did (1966), dis-
tinguish between ‘cardinal’ actions and secondary ‘catalyzer’ actions. The
‘cardinal’ actions denote the set of actions or transformations that one
cannot eliminate from the story without changing the story in essential
respects, while ‘catalyzer’ actions refer to those that can be omitted with-
out changing the story’s basic identity. In this way, the ‘catalyzer’ actions
are conceived of as having a secondary function: they are a kind of oil
that greases the narrative machinery by filling in the details between one
‘cardinal’ action and the next. By removing all secondary actions from
the story and thus liberating its cardinal structure, it suddenly becomes
apparent how seemingly di¤erent stories across di¤erent epochs and cul-
tures are the same or share the same underlying plot. I think these are im-
portant insights that I see no reason to belittle.
Having marked o¤ ‘cardinals’ from ‘catalyzers,’ one can proceed to
study the combination of ‘cardinal’ actions. Inspired by contemporary
structural and generative linguistics, attempts were made in the late sixties
to excavate the deep grammar of narrated stories, i.e., the principles that
govern any concatenation of ‘cardinal’ actions (for a paradigmatic exam-
ple, see Todorov 1969). In accordance with changing tides in philosophy
and linguistics, the study of plots has changed too. It has by now become
acceptable again to investigate what could be seen as the referential level
(the level of the represented), such as narrated events, persons, and situa-
tions, and their ‘ontological’ status. In this vein, researches like Ryan
(1991) and Ronen (1994) have systematically investigated the relations
between, on the one hand, the psychological attitudes of the narrator
and the characters, and on the other hand, the ‘ontological’ status of
the events that are being narrated, which, depending on their relation to
the narrator’s or character’s attitude, have the status of ‘real,’ ‘dreamt,’
‘desired,’ etc. However, two things seem to remain constant in plot-
narratology, back in the sixties as well as now: namely, the claim that an
action can be adequately defined in minimal terms as a transformation of
one state to another, and consequently that some transformations are
more essential to the story than others.1
making this our epistemological starting point are we able to analyze the
structures and mechanisms that enable and, to a certain extent, determine
how we are ‘griped’ or ‘touched’ by the story.
One of the telephones rang in the dark room. Bond turned and moved quickly to
the central desk and the pool light cast by the green shaded reading lamp. He
picked up the black telephone from the rank of four. (Fleming quoted in Chap-
man 1969: 13)
him and help him out of bed, pulling him first by the arms, then by the
hair, he turned away from me in fury, to the wall, and dug his nails into
the mattress. I had to muster all my strength to overcome his resistance.
But I hardly freed him from the bed when he broke from my hold, threw
himself down on the floor and rolled about, screaming with anger and
defiance’ (Beckett, Molloy: 127).
3. Description of bodily movement:
a. ‘He moved a thin shrunken brown hand gently in the air in time to
his praise and his thin quick eyelids beat often over his sad eyes’ (Joyce,
Portrait of the Artist: 228).
b. ‘I lay down flat on my stomach on my son’s coat. And I now
propped my elbows on the ground and my jaws between my hands, which
carried my eyes towards the horizon, and I made a little cushion of my
two hand on the ground and laid my cheek upon it, five minutes one,
five minutes the other, all the while flat on my stomach’ (Beckett, Molloy:
154).
The di¤erence between these three types of action-narration is by no
means categorical, but should be understood as matter of degree. Already
by a first reading it is manifest that as a reader you experience what is
happening in the narration of simple actions in a di¤erent way than
what is happening in both the narration of general actions and descrip-
tions of bodily movements. In reading the narration of simple actions,
one has an immediate and quasi-perceptual understanding of what is go-
ing on, whereas in reading of the two other types of narration of action,
one has a mediate and distanced understanding of what is happening.
Concerning the more general end of the scale of possible types of
action-narration, our understanding is indirect and distanced because
our understanding implies and is grounded in a more basic understanding
of the simple actions that one has to perform in order to execute the more
complex and general actions. In order to leave ‘the old Lübeck,’ a person
has to do a number of more simple things such as walking to the coach,
entering it, etc. In order to understand what it means that the Egyptians
pursued the Israelites, one has to understand that thousands of men on
foot and on horse sat on the move. In other words, if as a reader one
wishes to visualize the events narrated by way of the more general
action-sentences, then one has to visualize all these more simple actions.
By contrast, in the body-descriptive end of the scale, the rule seems to be
that if the narration takes the form of a detailed description of a body
and its movement, then we are pushed towards an understanding of the
narrated scene that falls apart in purposeless observational fragments.
We ‘see’ a hand moving and eyelids beat, and it is up to the reader to sup-
Action between plot and discourse 303
ply the narrated movements with some overall purpose that is able to syn-
thesize the observational fragments into a coherent whole. As a result, the
narrated scene resists visualization, or at least does not seem to prompt it.
To sum up the argument of this section, we can therefore say that there
is an important di¤erence between the three types of narration of action;
a di¤erence that ‘traditional’ plot-narratology with its retrospective epis-
temology and minimal conception of action as transformation appears
to be unable to describe and analyze. Note, however, that this argument
does not establish that a theoretical investigation of plot-structures
is in principle unable to conceive of such di¤erences and the di¤erent
functions of action-narration, but merely that de facto ‘traditional’ plot-
narratology has been unable to do so insofar as it clings to the mentioned
presuppositions.
the degree to which the point of view, i.e., the epistemic origin of the nar-
rated story, can be ascribed to one of the characters in the story. In accor-
dance with this narratological model, scenic presentation can be defined
as the narrative situation in which the narrating voice has become com-
pletely transparent or assimilated to one of the characters and where all
the information (perceptions, thoughts, feelings, etc.) expressed by the
narrating discourse is relative to some character in the narrated world
and never transgresses the character’s limited perspective (so-called inter-
nal focalization).4
The problem with this account is that it restricts the phenomenon of
scenic presence or direct presentation to a specific narrative situation —
a particular form of discourse — and as a consequence is unable to grasp
(at least systematically) what is special about the narrative sequences
in which the reader experiences the narrated events in their immediate
quasi-presence. If it is true that this direct form of narration and narra-
tive experience is essentially constructed from sequences characterized
by a high frequency of simple action-narration, then modern discourse-
narratology seems unable to capture and analyze the type of narrative
structure that readers experience as direct quasi-presence of what is hap-
pening. The reason is this: since this reader-experience is prompted and to
a large extent controlled by the type of (simple) actions that are narrated,
modern discourse-narratology with its focus on narrators and the ways of
mediating is amiss when it comes to types of narrated events that cut
across types of narrative situation, such as simple actions (this is already
illustrated by the above examples, 1a, b; 3a, b).
One important problem with this form of discourse-narratology is that
its conception of ‘direct presentation’ does not correspond to the reading
experience. It might even strike us as paradoxical that it is the narrative
situation which has been pointed out by modern discourse-narratology
as the most direct that will often strike the reader as the less direct.
When reading a sequence dominated by a ‘figural narrative situation,’ in
which the narrating voice disappears or is neutralized and the epistemic
origin of the narrated information is attributed to one of the characters
(internal focalization), the reader usually has no experience of directly
witnessing or perceiving (being prompted to visualize) the narrated events.
Not that the reader experiences a mediating narrator when enjoying a
work predominantly written with a figural narrative situation. The point
is rather that when enjoying a narrative sequence dominated by the figu-
rative narrative situation, the reader is confronted with the direct presence
of words and thoughts — intellectual stu¤, not visual stu¤, not physical
events and actions. It is thus rather limited what can be directly presented
in this form of situation. The events that are narrated in sequences where
306 T. Grünbaum
the point of view is limited to a character in the story and the mediating
factor is unnoticeable are most often imperceptible events and processes,
for example, a ‘stream of consciousness,’ a torrent of thoughts and expe-
riences. It is therefore not events that the reader can easily visualize (or
be prompted to visualize) which are directly presented to her. It is, in
Booth’s words, not the protagonist’s ‘actions that are dramatized directly,
not his speech that we hear unmediated. What is dramatized is his mental
record of everything that happens. We see his consciousness at work on
the world’ (Booth 1983: 163). In other words, in such sequences, the
reader will usually experience no direct presence of things and events in
the narrated world, and if she does, it will not be because of the restric-
tion of the point of view to a character and the impersonality of the nar-
rating voice.
Let me try to illustrate these claims with a couple of examples. The first
is taken from Robbe-Grillet’s La Jalousie:
Les pas s’arrêtent devant la porte du bureau, mais c’est celle d’en face, donnant
accès à la chambre, qui est ouverte puis refermée.
Symétriques de celles de la chambre, les trois fenêtres ont à cette heure-ci leurs
jalousies baissées plus qu’à moitié. Le bureau est ainsi plongé dans un jour di¤us
qui enlève aux choses tout leur relief. Les lignes en sont tout aussi nettes cepend-
ant, mais la succession des plans ne donne plus aucune impression de profondeur,
de sorte que les mains se tendent instinctivement en avant du corps, pour recon-
naı̂tre les distances avec plus de sûreté.
La pièce heureusement n’est pas très encombrée: des classeurs et rayonnages
contre les parois, quelques sièges, enfin le massif bureau à tiroirs qui occupe toute
la règion comprise entre les deux fenêtres au midi, dont l’une — celle de droite, la
plus proche du couloir — permet d’observer, par les fentes obliques entre les
lames de bois, un découpage en raies lumineuses parallèles de la table et des fau-
teuils, sur la terrasse. (Robbe-Grillet 1957: 76)
This sequence is constructed is such a way that the reader will, with some
labor, be able to figure out and visually imagine the spatial layout of the
described room. A perspective on the narrated scene is indicated. As we
go along, this perspective becomes more and more specified culminating
in the indication of left-right coordinates in relation to some of the sur-
rounding physical objects. The narrating voice is impersonal and the
focalization or point of view is located inside the described room as the
perspectival origin of the left-right coordinates (‘enfin le massif bureau à
tiroirs qui occupe toute la règion comprise entre les deux fenêtres au
midi, dont l’une — celle de droite, la plus proche du couloir — permet
d’observer . . .’). Nevertheless, you experience no perceptual presence of
the scene. The whole sequence seems to fall apart in independent percep-
Action between plot and discourse 307
tual flashes. A plausible reason for this might be that a synthesizing and
unifying element is absent and that this element is able to generate the
experience of ‘seeing’ the presented world. This visibility, or rather, dispo-
sition to prompt e¤ortless visual imaginings, thus appears to presuppose a
minimal degree of unity and continuity, and it is my claim that the narra-
tion of simple actions is a principal mechanism in the generation of such a
unity and continuity. Just imagine if we altered the Robbe-Grillet exam-
ple by inserting the following kind of sentences: ‘The steps approached
the door. The door opens and a woman appears. She walks a few steps
into the room, takes o¤ her coat and throws it on the floor.’ Neither an
analysis of the voice, nor of the focalization, nor for that matter of the
formal plot-structure, appears to be able to account for the additional
element that such action-sentences would add to the situation. It is not
because of the ‘camera-eye’ technique that we would be prompted to
‘see’ the acting woman. Note, in passing, that this description of the
Robbe-Grillet example does not imply any aesthetic evaluation: resis-
tance to visualization might be an important aesthetic quality.
To support the above claims, consider the following example taken
from Jacobsen’s short story Mogens:
When Camilla had entered her room, she pulled up the blind, leaned her brow
against the cool pane, and hummed Elisabeth’s song from ‘The Fairy-hill.’ At
sunset a light breeze had begun to blow and a few tiny, white clouds, illuminated
by the moon, were driven towards Camilla. For a long while she stood regarding
them; she followed them from a far distance, and she sang louder and louder as
they drew nearer, kept silent a few seconds while they disappeared above her,
then sought others, and followed them too. With a little sigh she pulled down the
blind. She walked to the dressing table, leaned her elbows against it, rested her
head in her clasped hands and regarded her own picture in the mirror without
really seeing it. (Jacobsen 1979: 29–30)
Like the sequence from La Jalousie, this sequence from Mogens repre-
sents a room, but in a completely di¤erent way. To be more exact, in
this latter sequence we find almost no descriptions of the room and its
spatial layout — that is, we find no explicit indications of how the per-
spective on the room is to be placed inside the room and no indications
of left and right. The narrator’s point of view cannot be placed at a spe-
cific place in the narrated room. Nevertheless, it is this sequence from
Mogens and not the one from La Jalousie that the reader is more likely
to e¤ortless visualize and thereby experience as spatial.
The sequence from Mogens does not explicitly describe a room by talk-
ing about it; rather it manifests spatiality somehow in and through its
308 T. Grünbaum
7. Conclusion
qualities, such as ‘Le bureau est ainsi plongé dans un jour di¤use qui en-
lève aux choses tout leur relief,’ relates a static and isolated state of af-
fairs. By contrast, perception and perceptual appearance are, according
to phenomenologists, not to be understood in terms of static visibility of
things and their properties, but rather as a dynamic and pragmatically
embedded process.10 In our daily dealings with ordinary objects in the
world, the objects will not primarily appear as having certain visual prop-
erties (say, as a brown cylindrical thing of such and such a height and
width), but rather as having certain functions and as inviting us to use
them in certain ways. Accordingly, we do not primarily see a co¤ee mug
as a thing with a certain geometrical shape and color, but as something
into which to pour co¤ee, something to drink from, to grasp in a certain
way, etc.
Against this background, it might no longer seem so strange that it is in
the narration of simple, bodily action, rather than in the description of vi-
sual and spatial properties, that we find the disposition to prompt visual
imaginings in readers. This places the phenomenon of action at the fore-
front when it comes to understanding the spatial and visual character of
the narrated world. It has been one of the main aims of this article to
show that in order to get a theoretical grasp of these structures of visual-
ization and ‘making-present’ it is required that we do not reduce actions
to a purely abstract or ‘semantic’ entity, to the mere transformation
of one state to another, as it has been the practice of structuralist plot-
narratology to do. Action is a complex phenomenon that at one at the
same time involves pragmatic intentionality and motivation, bodily expe-
riences, and perception of the world.
It should be noticed that, despite what some might think, the account
of the function of action in narratives that I have presented here in no
way reduces the study of narratives to a psychological study of the reader.
There are, however, many good reasons for wanting to include the expe-
riences of the reader in the account of the structure and function of narra-
tives. If we accept that narratives are produced in order to be read, to
evoke experiences, and to be understood and enjoyed, then we ought to
expect that there exists a systematic relation between linguistic and se-
mantic means and the reader’s experience of the narrated world. The
evocation and control of the reader’s experience of the narrated story
can, to some extent, be claimed to be the telos narration. Narratives
can be regarded as mechanisms for prompting experiences. If this is so,
then we should expect that we can use systematically and ubiquitously
occurring experiences and experiential structures in order to isolate and
understand the relevant linguistic and narrative structures. Furthermore,
if these narrative structures are such that they are able to prompt and
312 T. Grünbaum
control the reader’s experience of the narrated events, then it seems only
natural that we should make use of the unfolding of the narrative from its
in actu-perspective in our study of narratives — even make it our point of
departure for our theoretical investigation. It is reasonable to suppose
that some of the important objective and transhistorical narrative struc-
tures are exactly structures that are designed in order to prompt or force
upon the reader certain types of experiences — namely, the imaginative
experience of the presence of the narrated events, i.e., visual imaginings
of the situation in which the narrated simple, bodily act takes place.
It seems pointless to deny that when we read or hear stories, we some-
times sink into the story and its narrated presence — we gain imaginative
access to the here-and-now of the characters. In this article, I have tried
to show that a specific form of narrated actions is capable of serving this
visualizing function. The traditional structuralist plot-narratology, with
its retrospective epistemology and consequently its interest in the sum-
marized story, has been incapable of grasping this function. Similarly,
this visualizing function has escaped modern discourse-narratology, and
for good reasons. One reason, which was already perceived by Ham-
burger (Hamburger 1965), is that the impression of a here-and-now pres-
ence of the narrated events cannot be properly grasped in terms of a
narrating voice and point of view. To sum up, my claim is that modern
plot- and discourse-narratology fail in understanding how the narrated
agents, objects, and their spatial situation can be directly presented to
the reading subject because of certain methodological limitations. To be
more exact, the reason for this failure lies partly in the fact that the
reader’s imaginative experience of direct presence to a large extent is
made possible and is controlled by structures pertaining to simple action-
narration for which reason they ought to belong to the domain of plot-
narratology, but insofar as these structures have the function of making
possible a direct presentation and visualization, they appear to belong to
the narratological study of the discourse. In other words, the structure
and function of simple action-narration cut across traditional divisions
of labor within narratology. We therefore need a new approach if we are
to fully understand the function of action in narratives.11
Notes
1. This minimal or formal conception of action is manifest also in some recent ‘cognitive’
plot-narratological theories; see, for example, Brandt 2002.
2. In this article, I rely on the following action theoretical distinctions: By ‘simple, bodily
action’ I mean the type of action that an agent can execute directly without executing
some other action in order to do it. An example would be tying one’s shoelaces. A sim-
Action between plot and discourse 313
ple action is to be distinguished from both bodily movements (for example, the move-
ments of one’s finger when tying the shoelaces) and complex or general actions (actions
that cannot be performed directly, but the performance of which require the execution
of some simple actions). For further discussion, see, for example, Enç 2003, esp. ch. 2.
3. Of course, action-sentences are not the only means to creating such a ‘living’ or intui-
tively present world. Among the other means one could mention ‘fluctuating transi-
tions from reporting [Bericht] to direct, indirect and free indirect speech [Erlebte
Rede]’ (Hamburger 1965: 65).
4. This narrative situation corresponds to the one canonized as ‘the figural narrative situ-
ation’ (Personale Erzählsituation in German). See Stanzel (1995).
5. See Jeannerod and Pacherie (2004) for related ideas and for relevant experimental data
from cognitive neuroscience and psychology suggesting a tight connection between
first-person sense of agency and perception of agency.
6. For a more elaborate discussion of the relation between experiences of movement and
perceptual experiences, see Overgaard and Grünbaum (2007).
7. For a more elaborate discussion of narrative sequence’s ability to prompt visual imag-
inings, see Grünbaum (2005).
8. See Talmy (2000a) and (2000b). See also Bundgaard (1999) and Hansen (2007).
9. See, for example, Dik 1989, ch. 10.
10. For introductions to and discussions of phenomenological theories of perception, see
Mulligan (1995) and Overgaard and Grünbaum (2007). For similar ideas in recent
enactive approaches to cognitive science and philosophy of mind, suggesting a neces-
sary relation between visual content and sensorimotor skills, see Noë (2004).
11. The author wishes to thank Peer F. Bundgaard and Thomas Illum Hansen for valuable
comments on an earlier version of this paper.
References
Thor Grünbaum (b. 1975) is an Assistant Research Professor at the University of Copenha-
gen 3tgr@hum.ku.dk4. His research interests are philosophy of action, narratology, and
aesthetics. His publications include ‘Fortælling og indlevelse — En teori om synligheden i
det litterære værk’ (2003); ‘Roman Ingarden’s theory of schematized profiles: A dynamic
version’ (2005); and ‘What do weather watchers see? Perceptual intentionality and agency’
(forthcoming).