Professional Documents
Culture Documents
TA N YA S T I V E R S
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DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780197563892.001.0001
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To Savannah whose answer was always “yes”
Contents
1. Introduction 1
2. The Questions We Answer 36
3. Responding with a Non-Answer 66
4. Interjections 91
5. Repetitions 122
6. Transformations 147
7. The Modular Response Possibility Space 179
Index 203
Preface and Acknowledgments
This book brings together a long list of investigations into who responds to
what and how. That work has been both individual and collaborative. The list of
collaborators is long but started with Jeff Robinson, with whom I worked on non-
answer responses, the precursor to what is worked out here as Chapter 3. While
at the Max Planck Institute, Nick Enfield and I led a series of projects under
Steve Levinson’s direction, including one on question- response sequences.
Publications that came from that project are both joint and individual, including
a team paper covering 10 languages on the topic of the timing of answers to polar
questions in PNAS in 2009, which includes a number of the basic concepts in this
book. A special issue of Pragmatics was co-edited with Nick Enfield and Steve
Levinson in 2010, which included an article on coding with Nick which was the
basis for part of the coding done in this book. Through Makoto Hayashi’s collab-
oration with us at the MPI, we developed a joint paper published in Language in
Society in 2010 that is the basis for Chapter 6, and another large team paper in
the Journal of Linguistics in 2018 that has important bearing on Chapters 4 and 5.
While the ideas in the book represent an evolution over time, collaboration
with my MPI colleagues on this project, particularly Nick but also Steve, Penny
Brown, Christina Englert, Kaoru Hayano, Trine Heinemann, Gertie Hoyman,
Federico Rossano, Jan Peter de Ruiter, and Mark Sicoli, shaped how I conceptu-
alize questions, responses, and particularly answers. The changes in my thinking
over time may not be like all of my collaborators, but it is thanks to them, their
work, and their challenges of me that I continue to wrestle with the questions of
how people respond, what shapes their responses, and why that matters for so-
cial interaction.
Since my move to UCLA in 2010, I have continued to have my thinking
about these issues shaped by astute colleagues. Collaborations with Jack Sidnell
and Clara Bergen comparing children and adult responses to questions, and
with Chase Raymond on accountability, inform what is presented here. Stefan
Timmermans read drafts of some of the chapters, and Steve Clayman, John
Heritage, and Giovanni Rossi graciously read the entire book. I’m also grateful
for the Oxford series editorial feedback from Nick Enfield and Jack Sidnell. All
of these colleagues helped me to clarify ideas and improve the writing. They all
engaged thoughtfully with my work and I’ve benefited from them.
—Tanya
1
Introduction
Imagine for a moment that the only way to confirm a yes-no question is by saying
Yeah. How different would this make our communication system?
Well, on one level, it wouldn’t change things much. Yeah is one of the most
common ways of answering polar (yes-no) questions. Yet, it would also mean we
would no longer be able to use nodding, Mm hm, Uh huh, Yep, or Yes. These other
answers are all quite similar in type—all rely on a form that reveals nothing about
the question being answered. Perhaps they differ a bit in formality—maybe Yeah
would seem a bit too colloquial for a lawyer in response to a judge’s question—
but it might not be such a big loss.
However, the world in which Yeah is our only way of confirming a yes-no ques-
tion would also disable other types of answers, such as repeating the question’s
proposition partly or fully. For instance, if you were to ask me, “Did you see
Frank?”, I couldn’t answer “I did.” Nor could I answer, “I saw him.” What if I saw
him down the hallway but he turned away before I got to speak to him? In our
imaginary world, “seeing” would normally imply talking to. Yet, following your
question about seeing Frank, I couldn’t say “I saw him down the hallway.” which
would be a very succinct way of both confirming and qualifying that confirma-
tion. So, in this imaginary world, there is a significant reduction in the range of
expressive possibilities available to respondents.
This brief thought experiment is not entirely without a real-world cognate.
Most native speakers of a language intuitively rely on the full range of answer
types, gravitating to each in different communicative circumstances but gener-
ally being unable to articulate why one seems more apt in a given situation. In
contrast, second-language learners may initially acquire one answer type, such
as “yes,” and it may be quite a long time before they learn the subtle differences of
the many alternatives a given language offers. They may (un)successfully import
some of the norms of usage from their own first language. Or, as another example,
consider those who suffer from autism spectrum disorders and have difficulty
with what comes intuitively to their typically developed peers. These individuals
may struggle with the many alternative ways to answer because explicit rules for
using language in this way are lacking. We just know what feels right.
In this book, we’ll inhabit a world of questions and answers not only because
answers are an interesting intellectual domain, and the intuitive guidelines of
usage are discoverable, but for several other reasons as well. First, while we use
The Book of Answers. Tanya Stivers, Oxford University Press. © Oxford University Press 2022.
DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780197563892.003.0001
2 The Book of Answers
language to do many things—tell stories, announce good and bad news, express
our opinions of people, states of affairs, and events—it’s rare that a minute goes
by in conversation without us asking or responding to a question (Farkas &
Bruce, 2009; Stivers et al., 2007). Second, answering questions is so fundamental
to human communication that it is likely one of the first and one of the last things
we do through words in our social lives: Would you like X? Can I have Y? Do you
know where Z is?
Third, questions are extremely flexible. Speakers perform a broad range of
social actions with them, from offers, proposals, and requests for action (e.g.,
Would you like me to pick the kids up? Shall we stop by the office? Can you grab
that print out?) to requests for information or confirmation (e.g., Do you want
to go to med school? You’re coming over tonight, right?) to repair initiations (e.g.,
You mean you came early?). Moreover, speakers use questions in virtually all in-
stitutional contexts, from medical consultations to legal cross-examinations to
classrooms and press-conferences; in fact, they are partly constitutive of these
social institutions (Drew & Heritage, 1992). Questions’ flexibility in action for-
mation, context of use, and turn design allows us to focus on questions while still
examining a wide swath of human communication.
Fourth, given the range of actions that speakers rely on questions to per-
form, they provide a naturally occurring common-denominator sequential
environment for study. By definition, when a speaker poses a functional ques-
tion, a response is due. In many other environments, responses are invited but
aren’t normatively required, so examining the nature of responses is particularly
complicated. If a response isn’t norm-governed, we can’t say that it was slow or
missing, for instance. Although there is tremendous diversity in the questions
asked—the social actions they implement, their position in the overall interac-
tion, their position in the current activity, their design—a response is due from
the question recipient when a questioner completes a question. This also makes
the question-response sequence a ripe environment for doing comparative re-
search, whether that comparison is socio-demographic, or involves language or
culture.
Question-response sequences thus provide us with a circumscribed do-
main of social interaction to examine what interactants are doing in answering
questions in one, rather than another, way. The typically stated objective of a
question is to secure information from the question recipient, however nominal
or substantive that information may be (Steensig & Drew, 2008). Yet with every
answer that we provide, we also convey much more about our stance toward
our recipient, giving insight into who we are to each other, alongside incremen-
tally building up, maintaining, or reducing closeness. Perhaps we think of shifts
from strangers to acquaintances to friends to romantic partners to exes as cate-
gorical, but transitions happen through social interaction, moment by moment.
Introduction 3
Maintaining a friendship is not only about the time spent and circumstances ex-
perienced together; it is also about what we say and how we say it, questioning
and responding included.
In this book, I examine response types as a system. Systems in language use
require us to consider the full set of alternatives to understand the “choice” a
speaker has made (e.g., Rossi, in press). I consider the range of responses as a re-
sponse possibility space and focus primarily on the portion of that space in which
different types of answers are given (the answer possibility space). Thus, in re-
sponse to Have you seen Frank? I not only look at how an answer like Yes differs
from an answer like I saw him yesterday but also at the affordances and collateral
effects (Enfield & Sidnell, 2015, 2017) of one answer relative to all other possibil-
ities in the system.
I am following a line of scholars who have taken different tacks to under-
standing how social interaction balances information and relationships
(they include Arundale, 2020; Enfield, 2006, 2013; Enfield & Levinson, 2006;
Enfield & Sidnell, 2017; Tomasello, 2008; among others). My focus, though, is
on responses, particularly answers to questions. I show that how speakers an-
swer provides a window into what guides speakers—three primary relational
issues: alignment, affiliation, and autonomy. Although there is no one-to-one
correspondence between answer types and these relational issues, the way
speakers rely on different answer types illustrates some of the ways that we in-
crementally manage our social relationships—building them up, maintaining
them, or taking them down.
The remainder of the Introduction will set the stage for understanding what
speakers are doing through their answer formats, with a focus on social interac-
tion research. I selectively draw on other research streams regarding questions
and responses when this work helps to reveal something about question-re-
sponse sequences in interaction. We’ll begin with an overview of prior re-
search on questions with a focus on the power of questions in spontaneous,
naturally occurring interaction. I synthesize current research to show many of
the mechanisms that questioners rely on to constrain recipients’ next actions
through questions. I next turn to responses, where I discuss four distinct paths
of alternative but non-equivalent response types to questions and what we know
about each. Through this, I also reveal how little we know about answer types in
social interaction.
I then introduce the idea of considering responses to questions as a window
into relationship management and offer the outline of a model that we will flesh
out over the course of the book—the principles of alignment, affiliation, and
autonomy that help us gain analytic leverage to understand what speakers are
doing relationally through their responses to questions. Finally, I offer a brief de-
scription of the data and methods used in the book.
4 The Book of Answers
Questions
The starting point for this book concerns what a question such as Did you
see Frank? sets in motion. Of course, a question such as this never occurs in a
vacuum. It’s asked during a particular interaction between individuals in a se-
quence that is part of a larger activity. It will matter whether this is a hallway stop
in an office building and the only question asked by one colleague of another,
or whether this is part of a catching-up conversation at lunch in a series of news
items. Relatedly, the question may be understood not only as a request for infor-
mation, but possibly performing other actions such as reminding (i.e., Did you
tell Frank what you were supposed to?), pre-announcing (i.e., Did Frank already
tell you his exciting news?), pre-requesting (i.e., If you haven’t seen him yet then
when you see him, can you also ask him to call me?), sometimes multiple simul-
taneously (Rossi, 2018; Schegloff, 1988). Any question will also be asked by and
of individuals in a particular social relationship who share a history. Who are the
speaker and hearer to each other and to Frank? Is Frank a close relative who is
in the hospital, and is the question asked by a family member to someone who’s
been visiting? Or is Frank a real estate agent who’s frequently moving around a
large office space, and the question is asked by one colleague of another.
Although most of this book focuses on answers, it’s critical that we’re sensitive
to the wide array of factors that shapes the question recipient’s understanding of
the question. This will aid us in our analysis of what question recipients are doing
through answering in particular ways.
Approaches to questions
The concept of a question has been central to many of the language sciences. For
philosophers of language, the contrast between interrogatives and declaratives
has been a way to examine theories of the match between language and the
world, a way of exploring presupposition and information structure, and a route
into the theory of speech acts (Austin, 1962; Searle, 1969; Wittgenstein, 1953).
Linguists have devoted significant work to questions as a distinct sentence type
(König & Siemund, 2007; Quirk, Greenbaum, Leech, & Svartvik, 1985). Those
looking cross linguistically have identified properties of questions that hold
across languages. For instance, most languages that have been studied mark both
polar and content (Wh-) questions (Dryer, 2011, 2013).
Among linguistic anthropologists, the discussion has focused on the rela-
tionship between speaking and social roles. Questions are unique in claiming
a lack of knowledge (typical of a lower-status individual) while simultaneously
being coercive of a next action (Goody, 1978; Hymes, 1962). Anthropologists
Introduction 5
see meaning as “located not only in language but in social values, beliefs, social
relationships, and larger exchange and support systems, including family struc-
ture and the social organization of the community” (Duranti, 1997, p. 277). Thus,
they draw our attention to interactants’ relationships as well as to other sources
of meaning in a question-response sequence.
Pragmatic investigations have focused on how questioning is done in practice
(Grice, 1975; Leech, 1983; Levinson, 1983). Some questions involve the morpho-
syntactic marking of interrogativity (subject-verb inversion in English) such as
“Did you see Frank?”, but in actual usage, questions often lack not only gram-
matical but even lexical or prosodic marking (Couper-Kuhlen, 2012; Geluykens,
1988). Nonetheless, speakers seem to expect responses, and recipients tend to
give them (e.g., the declarative question/B-event statement “You saw Frank.”)
(Geluykens, 1988; Labov & Fanshel, 1977; Šafářová & Swerts, 2004). Making
it more complex, some interrogatively marked utterances are not treated as
requests for information at all—the classic rhetorical question “Where are you
going dressed like that?” may be better understood as an assertion of a position
than a question (Han, 2002; Koshik, 2005; Sadock, 1975; Schegloff, 1984). Other
research has suggested that some formal questions may be designed to be “unan-
swerable” (Clayman & Heritage, 2002; Heinemann, 2008).
Functional questions—those that solicit confirmation or information—re-
gardless of formal marking—also commonly perform other social actions, in-
cluding initiating repair, assessing, requesting, offering, or inviting (Curl, 2006;
Curl & Drew, 2008; Davidson, 1984; Heritage, 2002; Schegloff, Jefferson, &
Sacks, 1977). However, even when a speaker performs actions like making a re-
quest, offering help, or proposing an activity through a question, it is virtually
impossible for them to do this without also requesting information by invoking
their willingness or ability, for instance (Rossi, 2012). Recipients sometimes
orient to this through dual responses that address the offer and their willing-
ness to perform it in two parts (Raymond, 2013; Schegloff, 2007). In sum, a cen-
tral function of questions is to seek information, though this is in concert with
many other actions. In this book, we will look at functional questions regardless
of their formal design properties. These will be the anchor points from which we
examine the projects that questioners implement through their questions and
how recipients respond.
Across the heterogeneity of question types and actions that speakers implement
through functional questions, all of these questions make relevant recipient re-
sponse (Sacks, 1987a; Schegloff, 1968; Schegloff & Sacks, 1973). Although, as
6 The Book of Answers
mentioned earlier, morphosyntax and intonation have been the primary can-
didate explanations for whether a given utterance would be understood as a
question, question recipients rely not only on morphosyntax and intonation,
but also speaker gaze (Bavelas, Coates, & Johnson, 2002; Goodwin & Goodwin,
1986; Rossano, 2010) and epistemic asymmetry to solicit response (Bavelas
et al., 2002; Beattie, 1978; Heritage, 2012a, 2012b; Kidwell, 2005; Stivers &
Rossano, 2010).
Relatedly, a declarative statement about something in the addressee’s primary
knowledge domain (e.g., a statement about the addressee, her children, work,
property, experience, etc.) may be understood as a “B-event” (something known
to or primarily by Speaker B, the question recipient) (Labov & Fanshel, 1977).
Recipients generally respond to these statements as questions (Heritage, 2012a,
2012b, 2013; Labov & Fanshel, 1977; Lerner, 2003). Let’s imagine that in the con-
text of trying to arrange a time to meet: Aliza says to Jackie, “You’ve got to pick
Caleb up at 3.” Whether this is a reminder or a question turns on who has pri-
mary knowledge about Caleb and Jackie’s schedule (epistemic primacy). If Caleb
is Jackie’s son, and Aliza is a friend, this is understandable as a question—do they
have time for coffee, or does Jackie need to get back to the school? Alternatively,
if Aliza is Jackie’s personal assistant, in charge of her schedule, this is understand-
able not as a question but as a reminder that solicits a display of understanding
and agreement rather than confirmation.
Although with all questions speakers place constraints on the recipient’s next ut-
terance by virtue of soliciting response, in asking a question, questioners do far
more than that. They also set the topic, the agenda, and the terms for that re-
sponse (Clayman & Heritage, 2002; Heritage, 2010b; Steensig & Drew, 2008).
As Sacks noted early on, “The attempt to move into the position of questioner
seems to be quite a thing that persons try to do. . . . As long as one is in the po-
sition of doing the questions, then in part one has control of the conversation”
(Sacks, 1992a, p. 54). He grounded this observation in recordings of phone calls
to a suicide help line, where he found that if a question was integrated into the
opening greeting turn, the call taker could set the initial terms of the call. This
pattern is robust in institutional interactions: following an opening, the profes-
sional solicits the other’s business through a question and then proceeds through
a series of questions.
We can see this in medical visits. Most consultations for a new problem shift
from opening the consultation to beginning the business with a question like
“How can I help you today?” or “What can I do for you?”. Some begin with “So
Introduction 7
you’ve had a sore throat for several days?” (Heritage & Robinson, 2006). Whether
professionals rely on a more general inquiry or a candidate understanding built
for confirmation (Pomerantz, 1988), they typically begin institutional encounters
with an inquiry. Once this move-to-business question is answered, professionals
commonly regain the floor and a question-answer series unfolds. In the med-
ical visit, this is canonically the history-taking activity (Boyd & Heritage, 2006;
Robinson, 2003; Stivers, 2007). Certainly, patients can self-select to take a turn
during history taking, contributing something else to the visit, and they can also
answer “more” than was asked by a given question (Stivers & Heritage, 2001).
Nonetheless, the person asking the question asserts some degree of control over
the interaction through the questions’ constraints.
Questioners produce their inquiries as actions—they will unavoidably be
understood as doing something (Austin, 1962; Levinson, 2013; Searle, 1969;
Steensig & Drew, 2008). The action implemented through the question is thus
a key part of constructing a project (Levinson, 2013; Rossi, 2012) or course of
action (Schegloff, 2007) and setting an agenda. Once available, the action it-
self becomes a resource for indicating what is relevant from the recipient next
and what sort of project the questioner is engaging in (Pomerantz, 2017). For
instance, a request for action and an offer of help (Curl, 2006; Curl & Drew,
2008) may both rely on questions, but the projects—the agenda being set up
through the question—differ based on the action the question is understood to
be performing. Among other things, the action alters the benefactor-beneficiary
relationship (Clayman & Heritage, 2014).
The mechanisms that speakers rely on to set up the constraints of their
questions involve not only action but also the question’s composition and position
(Clift, Local, & Drew, 2013; Schegloff, 1993). The composition of the question is
meant to capture all aspects of how the speaker produces the question. Action,
position, and composition are tightly intertwined because composition and po-
sition, along with epistemics, may assist in action recognition (Heritage, 2012b;
Schegloff, 1996a). In what follows, we’ll examine the ways that composition and
position help to set the topic, agenda, and terms of response.
Composition
The composition of the turn and its action involves every aspect of design.
A schematic view of the domain is shown in Table 1.1.
Besides other contextual aspects that shape how a question is heard, the first
aspect of a question’s design that we observe is in the launching of the question.
Pre-turn-beginning work such as in-breaths, body positioning, and gestures can
project that what will follow will either be a new activity or will be sustaining
the ongoing activity (Depperman, 2013; Mondada, 2005; Mortensen, 2009;
Robinson & Stivers, 2001; Schegloff, 1996c). For instance, shifting from sitting
8 The Book of Answers
something is being questioned. For instance, with the question “Have you seen
Joe?”, the proposition is that you have seen Joe, but your confirmation of this
proposition is being solicited. When speakers ask questions, they are understood
to assert “agency” over the underlying proposition by virtue of having brought it
up at all. Enfield (2011) argues that agency can be broken down in Goffmanian
terms (1981) such that the person responsible for the utterance is the principal;
the one who articulates the utterance is the animator; and the one who composes
the utterance is the author. Through the animator bias, Enfield argues that
speakers attribute an agent unity heuristic such that when an interactant hears
another articulate a proposition there will be a presumption that s/he is not only
the animator but also the author and principal. Thus, if I ask whether you are
coming to a party this evening, I have introduced the proposition (that you are
coming) for you to confirm or disconfirm (Enfield, 2011; Heritage & Raymond,
2012). The animator of the proposition is treated as the agent and is accountable
for the proposition unless there is reason to understand agency as dispersed (e.g.,
the utterance is marked as not authored by the animator, as in “Jenny said X”).
Beyond the agency involved in asserting a proposition through asking a
question, we are also interested in how the design of that proposition imposes
constraints on the question recipient. Propositions have presuppositions, and in
the case of polar questions, propositions carry a particular polarity toward the af-
firmative or the negative; and at every level, this involves lexical choices. We will
consider each of these in turn.
Presuppositions. Presuppositions have been substantially studied in philos-
ophy and then in linguistics (Lyons, 1977). In fact, “[t]here is more literature on
presuppositions than on almost any other topic in pragmatics” (Levinson, 1983,
p. 167). For our purposes, what’s important is the fact that questions have dif-
ferent sorts of presuppositions depending on their type. Content questions intro-
duce presuppositions associated with the question word (e.g., Where questions
presuppose that a place is known and can be named). The quandary question
“How many lies have you told” presupposes that the addressee has “told lies”.
A speaker can declare “None”; yet, the presupposition plants the seed that this
has, in fact, occurred in a way that “Have you ever lied?” does not. The more in-
nocuous “What was the last movie you saw” also carries a presupposition: that
the question recipient has “seen movies.” When this is not the case, it too can
create interactional difficulties for conversationalists.
Question recipients who offer unqualified confirmation of a question will
have also confirmed any and all presuppositions in the question, making it diffi-
cult for them to contest the presuppositions later. For question recipients to ad-
dress a problematic presupposition, they must depart from the action agenda of
the question, particularly the proposition’s design. For instance, consider a med-
ical visit when a patient mentions having frequent sinus infections. A physician
10 The Book of Answers
could ask “When did this cold start?” or “When did this sinus infection start?”
Both solicit a time frame for the current problem, but the difference between pre-
supposing that the problem is a “cold” versus a “sinus infection” may help to set
patient expectations for what the treatment will be. The questioner then not only
sets the agenda in terms of the current problem as opposed to past problems, and
about onset of symptoms, but also begins to lay claim to what kind of an illness
the patient has, long before a diagnosis is given. If a patient who believes she has a
sinus infection is faced with the “cold” presupposition, answering the question as
put may make it difficult later for her to resist a diagnosis of a viral cold.
Although content questions are most commonly discussed as having
presuppositions, polar questions also have them. Our example earlier—Have you
seen Frank?—presupposes both that the addressee knows Frank but also that the
addressee could have seen Frank; for instance, that they were in a place where
there was an opportunity to see each other.
Polarity. As early as the 1940s there was support for the effects of question de-
sign on responses in survey experiments (Rugg, 1941). The concern was largely
driven by efforts to avoid biasing survey and interview results through the af-
firmative or negative question tilt (also talked about as preference, conducive-
ness, and valence) of polar questions being asked (Converse, 1984; Dohrenwend,
1965; Lazarsfeld, 1944; Schuman & Presser, 1979, 1996). Yet, there are no “neu-
tral” polar questions. All questions have a tilt, preference, conduciveness, or
valence, as it has been variously discussed. Thus, the questioner’s agency is not
only a matter of bringing up the question but of designing the proposition which
includes polarizing it toward Yes or toward No (Heritage & Raymond, 2021;
Raymond & Heritage, 2021).
The issue is also important to those attempting to shape outcomes: lawyers
have learned that question design can bias a courtroom witness (e.g., Dale,
Loftus, & Rathbun, 1978; Loftus & Palmer, 1974). Marketing professions have
learned that sellers’ question designs are associated with increased sales (e.g.,
Olshavsky, 1973; Rackham, 1987; Schuster & Danes, 1986). And in medical
interviews, the concern with questioning has been how best to elicit complete
disclosure of information and concerns from patients without introducing a host
of new time-consuming problems (e.g., Heritage, Robinson, Elliott, Beckett, &
Wilkes, 2007).
The polarity that a speaker adopts with their polar question’s design has been
discussed in the social interaction literature as the “preference” built into the
question (Pomerantz & Heritage, 2012; Sacks, 1987a). Table 1.2 summarizes
some of the ways that formal aspects of turn design tilt a question toward Yes or
No. An affirmatively designed interrogative question with no negative polarity
items will tilt the question toward, or be conducive of, Yes (Quirk et al., 1985).
Introduction 11
A declarative question with no negation will also tilt toward Yes. An affirmatively
designed assertion with a tag will again tilt toward Yes. Interestingly, a negative
interrogative also tilts heavily toward Yes (Heritage, 2002).
Linguists have documented that negative polarity items alter the tilt of a ques-
tion from affirmative to negative (e.g., “Do you have any questions?” reverses
the otherwise affirmative design of Do you have questions to one that prefers
No) (Bolinger, 1957; Borkin, 1971; Boyd & Heritage, 2006; Heritage et al., 2007).
Negative declarative questions such as “You didn’t see Frank?” or “Did you not
see Frank?” tilt toward (or prefer) a negative answer.
The polarity of the question facilitates a matched-type answer with evidence
supplied by the frequency and speed of response. Yes-preferring questions re-
ceive more affirmative-confirming answers, while No-preferring questions re-
ceive more negative-confirming answers (Kendrick & Torreira, 2015; Stivers
et al., 2009). When a question recipient offers an affirmative answer following
an affirmative design, these answers are also generally delivered more quickly
than in cases where a negative answer is given (Stivers et al., 2009). This result has
held up even for children (Stivers, Sidnell, & Bergen, 2018). However, in one lab-
based design, restricted to a minority of affirmatively formatted interrogatively
designed questions that only sought information, the timing difference did not
reach statistical significance (Robinson, 2020).
Overall, evidence supports the claim that polar questions in conversation
are formally tilted toward the affirmative or the negative. This leaves open
the issue of questioner motivation—some scholars discuss question design
as reflecting a kind of “best guess” or “expectation” of the recipient’s answer
(Pomerantz & Heritage, 2012; Raymond & Heritage, 2021). However, to some
12 The Book of Answers
speakers to design a question. Consider: “Have you seen a movie recently?” Here
are some other versions:
We have five versions without even adjusting more than the tilt of the question.
If we consider dimensions such as “movie” versus “film” or the tag “right” versus
“didn’t you?” or the production of “didn’t” versus “did not” we can see just how
many components questioners have at their disposal in crafting a question. Each
of these aspects of design does important work in setting the agenda and terms
of the question.
Position
If your head is swirling from the array of ways that a question can be designed
(its composition), let’s now consider the role of position. After all, questioners
set constraints on questioners’ responses not only through the design of their
questions but also through the position of their questions in ongoing interac-
tion. Much the same question can be asked in different positions, and that posi-
tioning matters tremendously for how it is understood, particularly with respect
to action.
By position, I mean to invoke “where” something occurs (Schegloff,
1984) which includes the very broad sense (e.g., in the beginning versus the end);
the activity sense (e.g., during the opening of a conversation; during the diag-
nosis delivery of a medical consultation); the sequence sense (e.g., as an insertion
to a base sequence) (Schegloff, 2007); and the turn sense (e.g., as the first turn
constructional unit [TCU] rather than the second). Now, why might this matter?
Consider the activity level.
In a medical visit, if a physician asks a patient “How are you” in the opening,
right after an exchange of greetings, the patient may respond Fine. But if the pa-
tient is asked after greetings, when the physician has gotten seated and is turning
to business, the patient may report coughing, stomach ache, or back pain (i.e.,
not being Fine). The activity context accounts for this because in the activity of
an opening, to provide a problem presentation would be preemptive—the phy-
sician has not yet turned to business. In contrast, at the point where the physi-
cian is embodying a readiness for business, providing an answer that passes on
an opportunity to talk about a problem (which is what “Fine” does; Jefferson,
14 The Book of Answers
1980) would run counter to the activity of establishing the problem (Robinson,
1998, 2006).
Now let’s consider the sequence level: A question such as “What’re you up
to this weekend” may be asked as preliminary to some action (perhaps not yet
knowable as a request or invitation) initiating a pre-sequence; or it might be
asked as an information question that’s part of a Friday exchange of upcoming
plans among colleagues. The position of the question has consequences for how
a response will be understood. For instance, a response such as “Nothing” to the
pre-sequence question is a go-ahead that promotes the issuing of the invitation,
request, or proposal that was projected by the speaker. In this way, it’s a pro-
social response. In contrast, in response to a main-line information question,
“Nothing” essentially refuses to engage with the speaker’s agenda, and is not a
pro-social response at all.
Finally, at the level of the turn, some questions will occupy an entire turn,
while others follow additional TCUs such as previous answers to other questions
or assertions. Returning to the “How are you” question example, as a reciprocal
question asked after having replied “Fine” to the previous speaker’s question,
“How are you” will heavily condition a routine brief answer. In contrast, asked
as its own turn, in the clear, the same question may elicit a much more expansive
response. Think of having gotten an update from a friend and then turning the
tables with “How are you?” to launch a similar update. In short, it is not just how
you ask but where you ask that shapes the response.
Thus, if we think about how questioners set up constraints on how question
recipients should respond, they do so through the actions they perform, the
composition of those actions, and their position. All of these are resources that
convey what sort of response is being sought and what would be optimal.
Until now, we have left the souls of question asker and question recipient on the
sidelines. We have instead focused on the many ways in which any question asker
constrains any question recipient simply by posing a question—through the
question’s composition and position. However, when we ask a question, who our
recipient is matters for both position and composition—the principle of recip-
ient design (Sacks, 1992b). Imagine that Sarah wants to borrow a sweater from
Amanda for an evening out. There are design considerations including tilting the
request toward Yes or No, but there is also whether to initiate the sequence with
a pre-sequence signaling that the main action may be delicate; or a pre-sequence
may indicate that there are grounds for granting the forthcoming request (e.g.,
“You know how I let you borrow my nice jacket last week?”) (Schegloff, 1988,
Introduction 15
2007). A question’s design can be more or less presumptive of, for instance, a
granting. Walking toward Amanda’s closet, if she asks “Can I borrow the pink
sweater for tonight?” both by the embodied and verbal aspects of her turn de-
sign, this is more presumptive that a Yes will follow than the pre-delicate version.
How we design our questions is clearly tailored to our recipients, including our
referring expressions, the question’s tilt, and the presumptiveness of the question
(Drew, 1992; Sacks, 1987b; Sacks & Schegloff, 1979; Schegloff, 1996b).
Recipient design comes into play not only in the questioner’s composition of
the question, but also in posing the question at all to this recipient in this po-
sition. Sacks invokes the concept of a question’s “askability” which he expands
as “it stands as a sensible and appropriate question to which there is expectably
or reasonably an answer” (Sacks, 1987b, p. 217). In posing any question at all to
this recipient, the questioner displays a stance that this recipient can, should,
and will answer the question. This includes that the topic, lexical choices, and
agenda are all reasonable. This then is arguably the very first level of recipient
design.
Because of the principle of recipient design in questions, when a questioner
poses a question in an ill-fitted way, this may suggest a slightly (or even an al-
together) different relationship than the recipient thought that they had. This
is particularly striking in Garfinkel’s breaching experiment where he asked
students to behave as “boarders” in their own homes. In one case, a son asked his
mother whether she “minded if [he] had a snack from the refrigerator” (1967,
p. 48). Both the posing of a request for permission and the design including the
lexical choice of “minded” indexed an unfamiliar relationship, and indeed this
was treated as a source of “embarrassment” by his mother in front of her friends
(Heritage, 2012b). These aspects of distance are underscored in the reported re-
sponse from the mother: “Mind if you have a little snack? You’ve been eating
little snacks around here for years without asking me. What’s gotten into you?”
(Garfinkel, 1967, p. 48).
As this book unfolds, we will see that question recipients care about all of these
aspects of the questions posed to them and have many ways of pushing back
against a question that is poorly fitted or problematic (e.g., Bolden, 2009; Golato
& Fagyal, 2008; Heinemann, 2009; Heritage, 1998; Raymond, 2003; Stivers &
Heritage, 2001). Yet, as we will also see, doing so has associated affordances as
well as consequences, “collateral effects” (Enfield & Sidnell, 2017).
Responses
All functional questions make relevant response, and through the question’s ac-
tion, design, and position, questioners set up recipients to provide particular
16 The Book of Answers
(1.1)
1 FAN: [Excuse me.<Hate to interrupt_Hey Congressman Nunes?,
2 NUN: [((Looks towards Fang then turns away and starts to walk away))
3 FAN: I-I jus’ wanted to ask you really quickly what
4 Were your calls with=uhm Lev Parnas abou:t?
5 NUN: ((Walking; not looking or orienting to Fang))
6 (0.2)
7 FAN: [Were you asking abou:t thee effort tuh (0.2)
8 NUN: [((Walking away in front of Fang, back to Fang))
9 FAN: investigate (.) Hunter Biden,
10 (2.0)/((Nunes keeps walking, back to Fang))
11 FAN: Congressman Nunes.
12 NUN: ((walks into area that Fang can’t go))
Finally, Fang pursues response with an address term in line 11 which can both
act as a recompletion or another summons. However, it too elicits nothing
from Nunes.
Questions are by no means iron cages; recipients can and do evade their
constraints on occasions like Nunes did. However, they cannot escape the ac-
countability for answering that questions establish (Garfinkel, 1988). Indeed,
Nunes’s lack of response was understood in the media as stonewalling. Response
to a question is not optional in the sense of having no communicative or rela-
tional consequences. How problematic a no-response breach is will depend upon
the available account, the question being posed, the agenda of the question, and
the individuals involved. While a non-response like Nunes’s is clear because he
produces nothing at all, a speaker who produces talk but does not in any way ad-
dress the question is similarly best considered to be offering non-response, even if
it is positionally adjacent to the question.
Like questioners, recipients treat responses to questions as relevant as well.
Most commonly, if they do not produce a response quickly, we see other pre-
beginning behavior orienting to a response as “in progress,” such as gestural
indications that they are unable to produce a response (e.g., eyes turned up-
ward in a display of consideration; a finger requesting a moment), or with in-
breaths, Uhs, Uhms, or Well, projecting that something will be forthcoming
(Depperman, 2013).
Responses are not all equal, however. Answers vs. non-answer responses
constitute a second level of cooperation. Non- answer responses (Beach
& Metzger, 1997; Clayman, 2002; Heritage, 1984b; Stivers & Robinson,
2006) commonly include I don’t know/I can’t remember (which are themselves
accounts for not answering), initiations of repair, and laughter. Non-answer
18 The Book of Answers
responses not only fail to provide the information requested, but they can
also suggest that the questioner misjudged the recipient’s ability (or willing-
ness) to answer the question. Recall our discussion of the principle of recip-
ient design: questioners generally work to design questions that their question
recipients can and will answer. Thus, a claim not to be able or willing to answer
a question fails, in that sense.
Question recipients typically orient to answer responses as preferred, relative
to non-answer responses. While Chapter 3 will delve into this domain further,
four main forms of evidence exist for this. First, answers are delivered faster than
non-answer responses (Stivers et al., 2009; Stivers & Robinson, 2006). In all 10
languages of a study that included English, interactants produced answers to
polar questions significantly faster than non-answer responses. Second, answers
are far more common than non-answer responses (Stivers et al., 2009). Third,
non-answer responses are often designed more laboriously than answer turns—
with hesitation, mitigation, and accounts for not providing an answer (Clayman,
2002; Heritage, 1984b; Stivers & Robinson, 2006). Fourth, question recipients,
in the design of their responses, try to answer even when they cannot (Stivers
& Robinson, 2006). For instance, they may say what they know about a situa-
tion, even if this does not provide an answer. Thus, just as non-response to a
question is accountable, not responding with an answer is accountable. This is in
part because of the expectation that questioners take care to pose questions that
are reasonable for this question recipient in this position. Conversely, question
recipients also have an obligation: to answer questions if they can.
A third context where we find two alternative and non-equivalent courses
of action is specific to polar questions, where there is a clear preference for
matching the answer to the polarity of the question and thus confirming (rather
than disconfirming). Evidence is trifold: answers which confirm the question’s
proposition are far more frequent than those that disconfirm (Kendrick &
Torreira, 2015; Stivers et al., 2009). In English, 71% of answers to polar questions
were confirmations. It is important to consider that as requests for information,
if questions were “neutral,” we might expect them to receive confirmations and
disconfirmations at roughly an equal rate. This is clearly not the case.
Second, confirmations are generally delivered more quickly than
disconfirmations (Heritage, 1984b; Stivers et al., 2009), even among children
(Stivers et al., 2018). Despite disconfirmations being somewhat harder to pro-
cess cognitively (Clark, 1976), polarity matched negatives (i.e., confirmations of
a negatively marked question) are still faster than mismatched disconfirmations
(Stivers et al., 2009).
Third, interactants orient to the preference for confirmation over disconfirma-
tion. They design confirmations more straightforwardly than disconfirmations
(i.e., without hedges, mitigations, or accounts) (Ford, 2001; Heritage, 1984b;
Introduction 19
Among answer responses that are confirming, there is at least one more level of
alternative conduct, and that level bears on the answer design. Raymond (2003)
1 Heritage and Raymond (2012) differentiate between “affirming” and “confirming,” arguing
that repetitional answers confirm, whereas a Yes merely affirms. However, when declarative or tag
constructions are used, even an interjection is understood as confirming because the action of the
question is to request confirmation. Given the relative frequency of requests for confirmation, I use
“confirm” throughout.
2 Robinson (2020) did not find the same pattern with confirmations reaching statistical signif-
icance. However, he also restricted his sample to questions which he believed were relatively neu-
tral and appeared primarily if not only concerned with information requests. These comprised only
40% of the total corpus. It is possible that the questions he excluded drive the patterns shown by
most other scholars, including Kendrick and Torreira (2015) and Stivers et al. (2009, 2018). Most
data, across children and adults, across the full range of questions speakers ask, show the patterns
described here.
20 The Book of Answers
No Response
Polar Question
Non-Answer
Non-Type
Conforming
Polarity
Response Mismatched
Type Conforming
Answer
Non-Type
Polarity Conforming
Matched
Type Conforming
What should be clear by now is that questioners and their recipients have myriad
resources at their disposal to construct questions and respond to them. I will
argue that although these resources are deployed to elicit and provide infor-
mation, they are simultaneously relied on to manage our social relationships
in ongoing interaction. Who we are to one another is heavily derived from
Introduction 21
level than Grice, Sperber and Wilson, or Levinson. As I work to link practices
to the management of social relationships, I also build on Enfield’s work, at the
micro level (Enfield, 2013).
By the end of the book, I will use the various answer types to infer the shape of
the response possibility space. That shape, I argue, reflects interactants’ concerns
with three main relational principles: alignment, affiliation, and autonomy.
Each position within the larger possibility space has associated affordances and
consequences that bear on the social relationship between questioner and recip-
ient because each represents some level of cooperation. Loosely, we can think of
alignment as involving cooperation with what the speaker is doing; affiliation
as cooperating with how the speaker is performing the action; and autonomy as
cooperating with who is performing the action. At times these aspects of coop-
eration may be in conflict; at other times they are not at all. Regardless, together
they both reflect and help account for our use of the response possibility space,
particularly the answer possibility space within it. Here, I offer a brief outline of
these concepts, and as the book progresses, we will develop each concept and
consider how the types of responses speakers provide to questions speak to these
concepts, with a focus on the main types of answers.
Alignment and affiliation have been used somewhat interchangeably in the in-
teraction literature, broadly to mean “cooperation.” However, in the storytelling
context, I have argued that these terms could and should be used to disentangle
two separable dimensions of cooperation (Stivers, 2008). In storytelling, aligning
actions support the structural asymmetry of the telling by moving the activity
forward. Aligning actions in response to a story launching include continuers
and acknowledgments that pass on the opportunity to take a full turn at talk and
thus support the ongoing telling (Bavelas, Coates, & Johnson, 2000; Goodwin,
1986; Goodwin, 1980; Jefferson, 1984; Schegloff, 1982). Alignment, as I conceptu-
alize it, is thus concerned with structural-level cooperation. We can think of three
main aspects of alignment relevant to question-response sequences: aligning
with the questioner’s project, design, and posing of the question to this recipient
at this sequential juncture.
Autonomy is intended to cover the multiple dimensions of agency that exist
(Enfield, 2013; Enfield et al., 2018) and the independence of our positions.
Autonomy concerns the degree to which the proposition in the answer is offered
by the speaker rather than being dependent on the questioner’s own proposition.
For instance, when speakers ask questions or otherwise initiate new sequences
of action and assert propositions, they can be understood as exerting relatively
high sequential as well as thematic agency (Enfield et al., 2018). In contrast with
this, when someone is responding to that initiating action, they are accepting
reduced sequential agency. However, a responding speaker may still contest the
Introduction 23
These three concepts taken together hark back to Goffman (1967) and Brown
and Levinson (1978). While alignment is structural and affiliation is affective,
both resonate with the concept of positive face, defined as “[t]he want of every
‘competent adult member’ that his [sic] actions be desirable to at least some
others” (Brown & Levinson, 1978, p. 62). Conversely, autonomy resonates with
the concept of negative face, defined as “the want of every ‘competent adult
member’ that his [sic] actions be unimpeded by others” (Brown & Levinson,
1978, p. 62). Arundale has further worked to extend these ideas into social inter-
action (Arundale, 2020). Questions, like all actions that make relevant response
in interaction, necessarily constrain (or impede) our freedom to maneuver—our
autonomy. In the context of response, I will argue that we balance our actions in
terms of relative alignment, affiliation, and autonomy.
Data
For this book I rely on a corpus that is substantially larger than that used
in previous conversation analytic studies of responses to assess the relative
distributions of these answer types and examine the functions of these various
answer types relative to one another. I examined 150 spontaneous naturally
occurring conversations occurring in British or American English, involving a
mix of telephone and face-to-face interactions, nearly all of which involve people
who know each other reasonably well. The participants range from college
students to families with children to residents of a nursing home. Settings range
from dinner tables to sorority houses to board games, food preparation, and hair
salons.
Some of the participants are working-class barbers and their clients, or
those who work on trailer hitches, while others live in upper-middle-class
suburbs. Nearly all participants are native English speakers. While most are
White, approximately 15% of the sequences are drawn from African American
participants. Although the data do not approach what a quantitatively minded
scholar would want for a regionally or nationally representative sample, it is,
by most standards, purposively heterogeneous. Finally, while it is my hope that
the findings I discuss here are considered with respect to other languages, it is
entirely my expectation that there will be different inflections in different lan-
guages. While I have predictions which I touch on at the end, all claims are with
respect to the data at hand—English-language conversation.
Because my focal interest was in understanding the domain of answering
questions, the data were restricted to the 1,738 polar questions in these data that
received answer responses. As would be predicted based on known interactional
preferences discussed earlier, the majority of those (n =1,284; 74%) involved
Introduction 25
chapters of the book, but also for particular aspects of the question because this is
the primary sequential context for the answers.
Specifically, for each question that received a confirming answer, the question
was coded along several dimensions. I followed previous studies in which we
developed a system for coding questions (Stivers & Enfield, 2010). First, the ac-
tion implemented by the question: I coded for (i) requests for information, (ii)
other initiations of repair, (iii) requests for confirmation, (iv) assessments, and
(v) recruiting actions such as requesting, offering, or proposing (Floyd, Rossi, &
Enfield, 2020; Kendrick & Drew, 2016; Rossi, 2012). The rationale is that these
actions serve distinct social-interactional functions including the distribution of
information, repairing problems in talk, transfer of labor, and stance taking (see
Tomasello, 2008, for a discussion of basic human actions in communication).
I also coded for whether the polar question was interrogatively designed, declar-
atively designed, or utilized a turn-final tag. Third, I indicated whether questions
began with a lexical preface such as Well, And, or Oh.
In terms of the answers, having identified three types of answers as the pri-
mary types across the data, when coding, I discriminated between interjections,
repetitions, and transformations delivered in the first TCU. For each of these
main types of answer, I further coded for a range of subtypes, which I discuss in
the relevant chapters. If more than one answer was delivered, even if done in a
single prosodic contour, that was coded for up to two answers.3 Finally, I coded
for answer prefaces similar to the way I coded for question prefaces. If a speaker
expands with a multi-TCU response, usually that is an answer plus additional in-
formation. I did not code that. My focus was on the answer proper.
I did not code the timing of the responses. Given the substantial amount of
work that has been done including on significant subsets of this corpus on timing
(Stivers et al., 2009, 2018), my intention was to focus on the answer design and to
treat our understanding of timing as relatively well established.
In the next chapter of this book, we take a closer look at polar questions in
English. The goal of the chapter is to provide a description of, and illustrate, the
types of actions that polar questions implement and the design they tend to take.
This will provide a richer context for understanding what the answer possibility
3 Head nods were coded as unmarked interjections. If they were positioned in overlap with a
vocal answer of another type, the vocal answer was coded. Thus, an interjection followed by a repe-
tition that was overlapped with a head nod would be coded as an interjection +repetition, not two
interjections.
Introduction 27
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32 The Book of Answers
’n Jongen die ’m zag staan, stil met z’n hark, had toen, midden in z’n
woedend gemopper geschreeuwd.…
Met z’n stoel strompelde ouë Gerrit nog dichter bij de kachel,
onbewust, ’t zelf niet merkend, in brandende opwinding, blij iets te
bewegen. Z’n vrouw zag ie sjokkeren van den stal naar de keuken,
met ’n peinzerig gezicht, en rooie huil-oogen, ’n paar kopjes
wegdragend van ’t koffieblad. Vandaag had ie puur trek om er is te
kaike na z’n spulle.… Maar hij dorst nie.… Guurt, s’n dochter mos
sóó komme.… aa’s tie ’t moar weer es sag.…
Wà’ kon ie lolle, lolle, soo in ’t donkere hok, tusschen z’n gestolen
rommel in.… Wa genot! om te stikke! Wà’ had ie ’t netjes an rijtjes
legd lest.… Die vervloekte muize.… allegoar goatjes d’r in.… Hij kon
se de kop afbijten.—Nee, vandaag zou die ’r geen poot anzette, als
ie ’t moar sàg, soo moar sag, kon ie al sterven van heetige lol.—Wâ
spulle! Wà’ kon die ’r mee doen.… Nee, toch niks doen d’r mee.…
Alleen moar hebbe, wéte, al moar wéte en beseffe, dat ’t van sain
was.…, dat ie ’t kaapt had van andere.… andere.… Kristis, wà’ lol,
wà’ salig.… So moar had ie ’t gegannift van ’n aêre en nou was ’t
van sain, van hèm, van hem, van sain. Wat zoet, wat zalig zoet dat
toch was, dat nemen! Hoho!.. ho.. ho.… Van g’n waif, van g’n waive
hield ie zooveul.… Da [29]gappe.… puf!.… naar je toe.… En zoo
verborgen weg duufele in je eige kelder.… En dan, aas de
menschen je vrage en segge.… Hai je al hoort?.… dà’s stole of dit is
stole, dan verbaasd meekijke en lache, en dan zoo zeker, zoo zeker
wete dà’s se hem, hèm, mit z’n grijze kop, z’n faine noam net soo
min verdenke, aa’s den bestolene self.… En dan lol, brandend lollig
van binnen, daà’ niemand je sien hep.… niemand, nooit niks!.… En
dan àl maar meer lachen om ’n grappie ertusschen en schudden met
de zilveren haren, en dan, daardoor heen, maar genieten, bij ’t
spreke d’r over … En wrijven door de baard, en zalig, zoet van
binnen weten: jonge, kerel, dà’ hep jài nou,.… dà’ lait nou stikempies
op z’n rug, bai jou.… Niemand hep sien.… En dan ’t genieten er van,
de eerste week.… nachten, als ie niet slapen kon, in het kelderhok,
met ’t lampie.… en soms, als ie ’t niet kon houen, als ie van binne
opbrandde van zien-dorst, dan op den dag ook nog effe.. Aa’s ’t
most, en ’t kwam, dol-heet-begeerend, dan omkeerend van ’n
boodschap en dan loeren op ’n vrij gelegenheidje. En dan de tweede
nacht, aa’s ’t verlange om te zien zoo hevig was, dat ie lag te beven..
om z’n spulle te pakken.—Als ’t door ’m heengierde, onrustig gehijg
van kijkdrift en voeldrift. Als ie zich dan al lekkerangstig eindelijk
voelde, òver z’n wijf, heenstapte.… bang-vol en blij dat ze ’m wouen
snappen, en eindelijk met wild lichtgejuich in z’n oogen, in en uit z’n
kelder kwam, zonder dat ie gesnapt was. Dan in bed weer zien,
rustiger en verzadigd, hoe alles gelegen had, kijkend met oogen
dicht. Herinnerend hel-schittering van knoppies, blinking van
lepeltjes, en na-tastend in z’n verbeelden de kleuren en ’t zachte
goedje.—Dan den volgenden nacht weer, kijken en tasten, slaaploos
met zweet-hoofd van angstig-zwaar genot.—Na ’n week begon lust
te luwen, bleef ie ’r maanden zonder, dacht ie er nog alleen maar
aan, in z’n bedstee, stil-starend tegen beschot-donkerte, dat ’t daar
lei, effe onder ’m.. dat ie ’t kon zien, kon hebbe aa’s ie wou.. dingen
al van veertig jaar, nooit niks van verkocht.… nooit niks.… gegapt
voor sain … zalig zoodje.. Nou vàn sain, vàn sain alleen. En geen
[30]sterveling die wat wist van z’n zalig genot, geen die iets wist van
z’n sluipen ’s nachts, z’n waken, z’n woest-geheime passie, z’n
heethevig begeeren.
Van heel klein al had ie ’n diep jubel-genot gekend voor stil stelen,
juist op de gevaarlijkste plekken. Nou nam ie alleen wat ’m beviel,
maar toen, nog jong, nam ie elk onbeheerd ding mee. Telkens werd
’t ’m toen afgenomen, kreeg ie ransel en straf, omdat ie ’t nog niet
goed wist te verbergen, of handig genoeg weg te kapen. Op later
leeftijd was ie zich gluip’riger gaan toeleggen op stil-stelen, op dat
loerend geheim-zoete stelen, met uren-geduld van ’n poes,
onbeweeglijk, rumoerloos dan toespringend als de kansen schoon
stonden, en dan alles vergeten, om te hèbben, te hèbben. Eerst had
ie, als eenmaal de dingen van hem waren, er niks meer voor
gevoeld. Later tikte ie de zaakjes op hun kop, maar bewaarde ze
meteen; werd zoo nieuwe prikkelhartstocht, dien ie eerst niet gekend
had. En nooit nog had ie goed beseft hoe ie eigenlijk aan dien
steeldrift kwam. Zóó zag ie iets, zóó gréép ie, zonder dat z’n
hartstocht ’m kleinste nàdenkruimte liet. ’n Vrouw pàkken en stelen,
maar stelen nog liever.—Verder was z’n heel leven niks voor ’m
geweest. Z’n land ging al jaren bar slecht; z’n zoons bestalen ’m, z’n
pacht en schulden al hooger, de opbrengst al minder.… Maar ’t gong
z’n triest gangetje nog.… Toch was ’r niks geen pienterigheid meer in
z’n werk; z’n steellust was alles, ging nog ver boven lijfbegeeren
uit.… ontzettend, van genot, van stil genot.
Eens had ie, zoo in ’n angst-bui, die ’m in z’n jonge jaren maar heel
zelden bekroop, aan dominee in ’t geheim verteld dat ie zoo graag
dingen wegnam, die van hem niet waren, zoo alleen maar om ze te
hebben, en om te doen, te doèn vooral. Maar die man had ’m
uitgescholden, had ’m de deur gewezen in woede.… zeggend dat ie
niet verkoos voor den gek gehouen te worden. En hij in z’n boerige
stommiteit en blooheid had niks verder kunnen zeggen. Toen had ie
dominee in de kerk nog es hooren dreigen met de hel, dat dieven
monsters waren.. [31]En hij had dol-angstig gegriend, bang, bang, de
hel, de hel.… En de ouë vrome, streng-bijbelsche dominee had hèm
onder de preek aangekeken. ’n Tijdje was ’t stil in ’m gebleven. Maar
z’n begeerte vrat dieper in. Geen rust had ie waar ie was. ’t
Verlangen, heet schroeiend, kwam in ’m opblakeren, als ie iets zag,
van verre al, hartkloppingen beukten z’n slapen en z’n binnenste
stond in brand. Dan de gréép.… En als ’t gedaan was, voelde ie zich
opgelucht, lollig, lekker.… tot ie later weer moest, en de hitte-greep
weer kwam. Door dominee’s gedreig had ie nooit iemand meer iets
durven zeggen, wat ie toen wel gewild had. Want ’t werd ’m soms,
zoo zwaar, zoo bang,—maar dan weer vond ie ’t zoo zalig, zoo
zoet.… Zoo was ’t geweldiger in ’m doorgevreten, met de jaren
erger, kon ie ’r niet meer zonder. En om zich heen zag ie niemand
die wist wat in hem omging, hoe wreed-rauwelijk ie genoot, en hoe ie
leed, als ie wroeging, angst voelde. Want elke week precies toch
ging ie naar de kerk, soms als ’n zelf-marteling om te hooren wat ’m
te wachten stond. En elk woord paste ie dan toe op zich-zelf, elken
zin, elken uitleg. En soms midden door z’n donkeren, hoog-donkeren
angst, schoot dan berouw, klagelijk deemoedig voornemen, dat ie
nooit meer iets van ’n ander zou wegnemen. Twee dagen daarna als
de woorden van dominee afgekoeld waren, zat ’t alweer in hem te
hijgen, als ie maar iets zag, dat alleen stond, dat ie hebben moèst.
Dan bleef ie in zoete streel-stemming van z’n eigen begeerte, tot ze
onstuimiger, brandender oplaaide, niet meer te houen, en duizelde ie
van nieuw genot, dat te wachten stond. Dan kwam er al dagen
vooruit, licht of doezelig geduizel in z’n hoofd, vreemde ontroeringen
en gevoelige toeschietelijkheid thuis, in alles.… zelfs z’n stem begon
te vleien, lichtelijk.
En dan had je ’t, volop ’n groote blij ontroerende angst voor wat ie
doen ging en voor wat nou weer in ’m woelen en snoeren kwam. Zoo
wàchtte ie op zich zelf, dook er grillige benauwing ônder z’n
hartstocht uit.—Soms klaar-fel in één, heel kort, zag ie zich-zelf,
begreep ie, hoe ie Onze Lieveheer bedroog, den dominee, de
menschen, de wereld.. Dat kwam dan meestal ’s nachts, als ie
wakker lag, niet slapen kon, en er klare kijklust [32]juist in z’n oogen
kittelde; in die lange, donker-dreigende nachten, als ie verschuil-
angst voelde, angst dat ie slecht was, dat ie toch eens gesnapt zou
worden, dat z’m in de kelder zouen pakken en opsluiten, of dat ze ’m
eerst midden op den weg zouen sleuren, zóó, midden op straat
jagen, en dat iedereen ’m dan kon zien met z’n grijzen kop, z’n lange
haren.… dat ze’m zouen uitjouwen, uitgieren en met steenen gooien.
Dan werd ie week, voelde ie, hoe hardvochtig ie was voor z’n wijf en
kinderen.… In die angstnachten voelde ie zich aan alle kanten
bedreigd, zàg ie klaarder dan op den dag, hóórde ie beter, de
vreemdste tikjes, kraak-lichte geluidjes, strak-zuiver in de
nachtstilte.. En hij, hij die nooit niks gevoeld had,—wel duizend keer
in ’t holst van winternachten dwars door ’t Duinkijker bosch, van ’t
zeedorp Zeekijk, naar Wiereland was geloopen,—híj huiverde dàn,
en kippevelde van angst, hij lag daar te stumperen, te beven en
benauwend te zweeten, naast z’n wijf, beschutting zoekend àchter
haar dooie, snorkende lijf, toch blij dat zij er tenminste was, ’n
mensch net als hij, die ie hoorde ronken.… die hij kende.… die hem
kende.… En als ie dan, loerend stil, in ’t pikdonkre vunzige ruimtetje
van het hollig bed-steetje, uit groenig vuur op ’m zag aangrijpen,
handen met kromme, scherpe worg-nagels, vreeslijke, knokige,
graaiende handen, beenderige geraamte-handen, vaal en grauw en
hij lag te steunen, zoetjes in zweetangst te kermen, zich verkrimpend
en kleinmakend àchter ’t half-wezenlooze lijf van z’n vrouw—dan
begon ie stil tegen haar lichaam te praten, òp te biechten, luid, met
beverige stem, tegen haar rug.… Dan angstigde ie uit, dat ie ’t haàr
wel zeggen wou, z’n slechtighede.… aa’s se’t maar nie verklikte …
da’ se ’m steenige souê … En dat alles, alles in de kelder lei.…
In den stillen nacht hoorend z’n eigen holle beefstem, weenend van
wanhoop, keek ie even òp achter het ronkend lijf van z’n vrouw of ’t
groenige vuur nog liktongde—van ’t donker beschot naar ’m toe.
Maar als ie dan geen beenige grauwige geraamte-hand meer zag,
zweeg ie gauw met biechten, verroerde ie zich niet meer, ’n kwartier,
’n half uur, al spijtig, gejaagd dat ie te veel had [33]gezegd, dat ie zich
had laten bangmaken. Bleef ’t weg, ’t groenige vuur, dan begon z’n
zweet-benauwing wat te luwen, gingen er knellingen los van z’n kop,
z’n beenen, begon ie weer ’n beetje ruimer te ademen .… in zichzelf
gerustgesteld, dat ie toch iemand opgebiecht had wat ie deed—En
aa’s ze wakker was zou ie ’t weer zeggen. Stilletjes wel, dacht ie
’rbij, dat ze toch alles weer vergat,.… maar dat kon hem niet
schelen, had hij niks mee van noode. Hààr zou ie ’t zeggen, dan wist
ie ’t ten minste niet meer alleen. Als ie dan eindelijk achter ’t deurtje
van ’t donkere bed-holletje durfde kijken, in de scheemrige
schijnseltjes, naar de stille schaduw-schimmen van de roerlooze
kamer en hij zag op ’t ruit, aan den straatweg, ’t nachtlichtje,
blompotjes-schaduw en tak-vormpjes, grillig-dwars en puntig op ’t
vaal-geel gordijntje lijnen, kreeg ie weer moed, zei ie zichzelf, dat ie
’n lintworm was, drong ie zich op, dat ie nog nooit-ofte nimmer
kwaad had gedaan.….
Maar aa’s tie alleen was met haar, kon ie z’n geduld niet houên. Dan
griende ze, had ze vergeten waar ze woonden, wist ze niet meer den
naam van haar kinderen; dan griende ze maar, grienen. En hij er
tegen in, haar meppend met wat ie maar in handen kon krijgen. Dan
griende ze erger, mepte hij harder, uit drift, uit dolle drift, dàt ze
blerde.… En toch vergat ze waàrom ze griende, wist ze na ’n paar
minuten niet meer, [34]dat haar man ’r geranseld had, sjokte ze weer
stil-droevig voort, alleen brandende pijn-plekken voelend op ’r lijf en
handen..
Over z’n spullen gebogen, beaaiend met z’n kijk, had ie ’rbij gezeten
in z’n rooie wollen onderbroek en z’n wilden zilveren haarkop, te
schreien in z’n kelderhok, met z’n klein lampje, rossig-geel, bewalmd
in vunshoek, genoot ie van z’n doorgestane spanning, duizendmaal,
zacht-snikkend in stembeving zich zelf zeggend, in huil, dat ’t nou
van hem was, van hem.… Dat ’m dat geen sterveling kon afnemen,
Dirk niet, Piet niet, Guurtje niet.… En stil als ’n faustig spooksel,
kromde z’n verdonkerd rood lijf zich in z’n lage kelder, veegde ie z’n
tranen van de handen, snikte ie zachter, luchtte ie op, lag ie om en
om z’n gestolen waar, zoet-innig streelend, en bleekte z’n zilveren
haardos en kindergezicht, in het wazige kelderschimmige
lampschijnsel òp, met gelukslach en zalige verrukkings-koorts.
Nee, niks kon ’m meer skele.… z’n kinders, z’n waif, z’n pacht, z’n
schulden, z’n hypetheek.… Alleen die lamme notaris, die ’m ’r in had
met vijfhonderd gulde losgeld en al de rente, ses pissint, zat ’m
dwars.… En de dokter.… die z’n rekening hewwe wou.. en veurskot
van grondbelasting.… Snotverjenne, dat was nou ruim dertig joar
puur, dat notaris ’m losse duiten leent had.… En nou, nou Dirk en
Piet bij andere wat wouen knoeien mit grond, nou eischte ie op, in
één s’n geld, met dertig jaar rente.… godskristis.….. Da was puur ’n
slag.… miskien ’n kleine twee duuzend gulden mit de rente van àl ’t
deze! En nou weer ’n paar termaine hypetheek achter en pacht en
nog drie joare raize achter.… Nou dan moest s’n brokkie moar an de
poal.… Hai verrekke.… sullie ook verrekke.… Hai had toch se
genot.… Moar dwars, dwars zat ’t ’m; nòg twee koebeeste voorschot
waa’s tie ook achter! Nee, dwars zat ’t sàin!.… ’n suinige boel!.…
Aa’s s’n heule rommel achtduuzend beskoûde, was tie d’r.… Maar
da had ie t’met an volle skuld!.… Tug, ’t brok stong nog onder sain
klompe!.… [36]
[Inhoud]
II
Ouë Gerrit zat in gemakstoel, tegenover z’n vrouw. Plots zakte stom
z’n kop op de borst; kruisten zich z’n handen in krampigen bid-buig.
De jongens en vrouw Hassel brabbelden wat meê, gejaagd.
—Mo’k nie sitte?.… jai la nou nooit niks veur ’n ander.…, mokte ze
bits.
—Nou, gromde Dirk, z’n lepel uit z’n mond zuigend en gravend in de
weer vol geplompte schaal,.… daa’s net, wà’ hai je meer?.…
De Ouë wist wel dat ie moest, al vond ie ’t lam werk. Maar als Dirk
en Piet zeien dat ’t gebeuren zou, durfde hij niet nee zeggen, bang
dat ze ’r de heele boel op ’n goeien dag bij neersmeten.
—Aa’s t’r t’met wat is.… vier en vaif.… enne nie genog!..
De ouë zei al niets meer, keek sip voor zich, verschuchterd, zat star
op z’n met zware duimvegen uitgelikt bord te kijken.
—Sai vergeet puur d’r kop van d’r romp, woedde de Ouë.
—Seg waif, bler nie.… valt rege sat.… snauwde hard [39]de Ouë en
allen nu snauwden mee, van lamme kemedie, gesanik van dit-en-
van-dat, scholden eruit voor luiwammes, die gluipertjes wou maken.
En stil snikte ze door, zonder dat ze zich met ’n woord meer
verdedigen kon. Uitgesuft zat ze weer. Niemand die voelde wat ze
had, wat ze leed. O! leed?.. leed?.. Nee, pijn had ze niet. Alleen zoo
raar, zoo doovig, zoo rare banden kruislings over d’r hoofd,
gespannen! en zoo knellend, zoo stevig.… En niks, niks meer kon ze
onthoue.. Ze huilde weer harder.… Guurt keek ’r àn, met d’r
glimlacherige blauwe oogen, of ze zeggen wou: hou je je aige moar
stiekem van de domme, je bin immers zoo sterk aas ’n paard.…
Dirk was rood van stille woede dat de ouë tegensprak, woede die
aan kwam stuiven in bloedvlekken op z’n woest-kakigen wreeden
kop. Z’n vlassige brauwen gramden in dreiging naar elkaar, en z’n
kaken beefden. Dàt was z’n grootste hartstocht, slàchten; zelf ’t mes
in ’t plooiige nek-vette van ’t varken te vlijmen, ’m bij z’n strot te
smakken, dat ie spartelde, dan ’m te zien rochelen en hooren gillen,
met bloed op z’n handen, [40]warm-lauw, stankig en rood. Dan
genoot ie met ’n bedaarde lol, niemand mocht er an komme thuis. As
ie ’t niet zelf kon doen, vrat ie ’t niet; most ’t vleesch verkocht. Al de
kippen, die niet meer legden, draaide ie even gemoedereerd den
kop om. Guurt joeg ze op, greep ze, en hij alleen wrong ze den hals
af. En Guurt zàg ’t ook dol-graag, al griende ze ’r soms bij van
rillerigheid. Zij, zij met ’r meidehanden dee ’t altemet eerder dan
Kees, de erge strooper, waar ieder in de plaats bang voor was; Kees
de Strooper, oudste zoon van Hassel.
’n Paar uur maar had ie vannacht geslapen. Alleen Guurt lachte luid
en brutaal, joligde tegen Dirk, die stom aanluisterde zonder zich te
verroeren, wat ze snapte van Annie en Geert Slooter, dochters van
’n tuinder, bij hen in de buurt.
—Nou seker, bromde Dirk, wrevelig dat ie spreken moest, aa’s t’r
stoat, sal wel ’t uitkomme t’met.…
—Nou, en nou sait Annie, sait se main.… f’r wa’ sai nooit niks meer
van je sien, s’avens.…
—Nou hait s’nie g’laik.… sa’k stikke aa’s se ’n sint los kraigt van den
ouë.… nou is tie weewnoar.… en hokke [41]mi Jan en alleman dat ie
doe.… ’n wijd skandoal.… Nou lest, mi Sint Jan mosse Annie en
Geert.… mosse ze ’n poar nuwe laarse.… hai gaift g’n sint.… strak-
en-an komp ie thuis.… stroal!.… En hài an ’t danse.… de guldes
rolde sain broek uit.… sóó, langs se paipe op de vloer.… Dà’ ware
sullie bai aa’s kippe hee?.… Se heppe grabbeld en vochte.… Hai
was smoor.. en niks het ie sien.… ha! ha!.… ha! ha! ha!.…
—Hep jai Kees nie sien maid, vroeg dwars-vreemd en stroef Dirk er
tegen in.
—Wa? die staive hark? die .. kikker.. àn main blouze seg!.… gierde
Guurtje, wild naar achter stormend, met vingergetrommel op borden.
—V’rek, kom bai je, goedigde Dirk, zich aan den anderen kant van
den kachel neersmakkend.
Dat ze zich prachtig kon maken, dat ze baas over ’t ventje was.… zij
met ’r dijen, waarachter ie zich verschuilen kon, zonder dat z’n
neuspunt te zien kwam. Maar hij wou, durfde maar niet. En zij,
doorkoketteerend, met andere jongens van de plaats en van Duinkijk
en van de sekretarie, dat ie dol werd van heetige jaloersigheid. En
de anderen gebruikte zij om ’m op te winden, metéén te laten zien,
dat ze maling aan hem had, en dat kerels als boomen om ’r
heendrongen, naar ’n [44]gunstje bedelden. Zoo, als ’n plompe, maar
stomp-sluwe dorps-Carmen had ze Jan Grint den tuinderszoon, dien
ze al van ’r schooljaren kende, mal gemaakt, maar toen ie met liefde
en vuiligheid kwam had ze ’m de deur uitgesmeten. Ze kreeg
smeekbrieven van ’m; dat hij d’r vroegste minnaar was en dat ie zich
z’n handen van de romp zou afsnijen, aa’s sai ’t puur hebbe wou.…
Maar ze dàcht niet aan ’m. Ze wou met ’m lachen en uitgaan of