Whatever Happened to Narratology

8/3/2019 Whatever Happened to Narratology

http://slidepdf.com/reader/full/whatever-happened-to-narratology 1/12

Porter Institute for Poetics and Semiotics

Whatever Happened to Narratology?Author(s): Christine Brooke-RoseReviewed work(s):Source: Poetics Today, Vol. 11, No. 2, Narratology Revisited I (Summer, 1990), pp. 283-293Published by: Duke University PressStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1772617 .

Accessed: 09/02/2012 10:44

Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of the Terms & Conditions of Use, available at .http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp

JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of

content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms

of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact [email protected].

Duke University Press and Porter Institute for Poetics and Semiotics are collaborating with JSTOR to digitize,

preserve and extend access to Poetics Today.

http://www.jstor.org

http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=duke

http://www.jstor.org/stable/1772617?origin=JSTOR-pdf

http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp

http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp

http://www.jstor.org/stable/1772617?origin=JSTOR-pdf

http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=duke



WhateverHappenedto Narratology?

Christine Brooke-RoseParis

It got swallowed ntostoryseems the obvious answer; it slid off the slip-

pery methods of a million structures and became the story of its own

functioning-like mathematics, which has never claimed to speak ofanything but itself, or even to speak at all.

But was it a good story? Did narratology ever have that air of a neo-

divine activity in which to formulate is to function, and to functionis to self-verify? Linguistics tried to be a new mathematical discoursebut on language, and language, like the physical universe, only moreso because human, is inexact: there are always differences and distur-

bances, escape-hatches which mean that, however minute the particlesor units observed, the system has to adjust, to cheat ever so slightly,

in order to present a good theory, to tell a coherent story. Reality isa scandal; it never quite fits. Discourse, texts of all kinds, purport to

represent the real, but what does this mean? Is the representation inexcess of the real (Aristotle), or less than the real (Plato), or does it

merely reorganise the real? These are ancient questions, but we arestill asking them, not just of representations (stories) in general, butalso of the very discourses (stories) that purport to analyse stories,stories of people, stories of people reading stories of people, stories of

people reading stories of the world.

The initial excitements and fairly rapid disappointments of narra-

tology must have had to do with the early high claims of universality.But the laws discovered, though often couched in learned words, rig-orous analyses and diagrams, even mathematical or logical formulas,often turned out to be rather trivial. Above all, there was no constancy

Poetics Today 11:2 (Summer 1990). Copyright ? 1990 by The Porter Institute for

Poetics and Semiotics. ccc 0333-5372/90/$2.50.



284 PoeticsToday 11 :2

of terms or basic method, as there is in mathematics or even in modern

linguistics.

Structures were "discovered" that every poet and writer knows:simple structures of agents and patients, movement and quests; more

complex structures of modes of telling; structures of reading activi-ties with more and more ad hoc rules and personal idiosyncrasies, all

meticulously, sophistically, and "objectively"coded and named, untilthe chief problem came to be seen as arising not from inherent univer-sal structures but from reading, as if analysers had a profound need to

experience, not a text or even a story, but their own mental processeswhen faced with a poetic text or story that perhaps did not give them

the immediate and unalloyed pleasures that its renown, its place in thecanon or histories of literature had led them to expect.

It would be easy to say that both Chaucer and Shakespeare (and

others) mocked rhetoric, that artists have alwaysgone beyond the rulesand categories of rhetoricians, subverting them and creating othersso that rhetoricians have to return and recodify. Yet both Chaucerand Shakespeare (and everyone) also used and observed these rules.The disclaiming of rhetoric is itself a figure of rhetoric. Perhaps this is

why they mocked it, for its manic naming of everything it is possibleto do, consciously or not, when putting words together and makingutterances. All, all, have been used before, and named.

However, I doubt whether this ancient dichotomy (poetics vs. poetry)is so easy to handle today. Our postmodern situation, of which as

a writer I am, willy-nilly, a more or less conscious participant, hasbeen defined by Lyotard (1979: 7) as one of "incredulity with re-

gard to metanarratives" (in the sense of universalist Big Ideas, such

as the emancipation of man, of reason, from inequality, from igno-rance,

etc.).The

dichotomyhas also been

interpretedin more and

more complex and differing ways, and this despite Sontag's Against

Interpretation(1966), which I believe first drew attention to and was

part of this radical change. Postmodernist artists are said to have given

up the modernist idea of renewing forms and myths towards even-

tual insertion into a great tradition, and to have accepted the aporiaof significant form; or to be facing an ontological, as opposed to an

epistemological (modernist), crisis; or again, that what they have given

up is any idea of achieving overall meaning or "totalisation,"and both

these versions areclearly

if notexplicitly

linked to the fracture of the

subject as stable interpreter of the real; in another version (slightly

contradictory), there is no more art but only artists, who are content

to mix styles and forms of the past without feeling obliged to produce

something original, avant-gardes being liquidated.1 And so on. Here

1. The views in this paragraph are frequently expressed but are more specificallyattributable to (among others) Ihab Hassan (1971, 1975, 1980); Mas'ud Zavar-



Brooke-Rose* WhateverHappenedto Narratology? 285

is Lyotard's latest definition (my translation):

Isuggest

that thepostmodern

is that which, in the modern,pleads

for

(allegue)he unpresentablen the presentable tself, . . . thatwhichinquiresinto new presentations,not for enjoyment,but the better to convey thatthere is something unpresentable de 'impresentable).1988:31)

Above all, and very familiar by now, is the view that critical andcreative writing have become one and are indistinguishable. On theone hand, the modern novel read "as act of cognition supersedes theaesthetics of plot and repetition" (Richard 1985: 22). On the other,the best theoreticians and philosophers are read as literature, not (as

before and always) for their "fine" style, but for their (more or lessshattering) defamiliarization of familiar modes of thought and worldvisions. They are read as narratives about the text of the world and theworld of texts. Indeed, philosophical articles, at least those I read inAmerican literary reviews, frequently refer to theories as stories (e.g.,in this story we have to accept that... ), or even as scenarios. It is as if

phictionandfilosophy had changed places.Perhaps a brief retelling of the story, itself a story (by me), a re-

presentation, can exceed or shadow or reorganize the reality (if any) of

that story. And I shall start with another story, a more or less historicaldetour via the New Criticism, the detour itself an anecdote.I say "more or less" historical because it was only a few months ago

that I read, by chance, a fairly recent essay on a seventeenth-centurypoem, by an intelligent and articulate critic who had clearly not gonethrough (in the sense of assimilating, teaching, reflecting on, contrib-

uting to) either structuralism or poststructuralism. The essay talkedof tension, paradox, resolution, as if we were still engaged in the NewCriticism. As New Criticism, it was good, and of course it had to find

resolution and global meaning (as the "real"seventeenth century hadto?). The experience was odd because, although having been broughtup myself on the New Criticism and its close reading of poetry, I hadsince moved very far indeed from it (towards fiction, towards narra-

tology, towards the postmodern sensibility) and yet had to admit thatif such criticism (or the original New Criticism) is still readable today,it may be precisely because the great shift of interest at the turn of the

midcentury went towards narrative and its structures, on which theNew Criticism and earlier schools had been peculiarly unsophisticatedand barren, while, on the other hand, pure structuralism, howeverfascinating on narrative structures, had evolved a particularly clumsymachinery for the analysis of poetry-uneconomic, inelegant, text-

destroying-and the New Criticism certainly wasn't any of those.

zadeh (1976); Luc Ferry (1988); Jonathan Culler (1983); Jean-Francois Lyotard(1979, 1988); Brian McHale (1987).



286 PoeticsToday 11:2

Poetry was too subtle for early structuralism, and indeed it could be

argued that the early structural analysis of narrative, like its formalist

forbear, modestly tested out its theoretical models (when it did so atall) on what Frye called "naive romance" (which, as Frye said [1957],reveals its structures easily), and that most of these early "grammars"of narrative turned out to be inadequate to the more complex novel,save at the cost of sheer reduction to a general and very bare structureshared with all narrative (and universality was the point). Nevertheless,structuralism did evolve more complex models for more complex nar-

ratives, but failed to do so for poetry. It wasn't until the seventies that

poetic analysis took off again, and then chiefly in the United States,

where the good habits of the New Criticism (notably close reading)had taken deep root, rather than in Europe where schools even todaystill apparently teach future students no more than the extraction and

summary of a main theme (love, death, etc.). Something remains ofolder "stories" (theories, models, paradigms), as the reading anecdote

above shows.Another reading anecdote, from Stanley Fish this time and well-

known, though it will bear retelling, will round off this detour via the

New Criticism. Fish relates how at the end of a linguistics and stylisticsclass he put up a reading assignment on the board:

Jacobs-RosenbaumLevinThorne

HayesOhman (?)

(The query was because he couldn't remember if there were two n's.)When his next class on

seventeenth-century English poetry troopedin, Fish had drawn a frame round the list, written "p. 43" at the top,then told them it was a poem and asked them to interpret it. The result

was hilarious (Jacob's ladder as cross and Christian ascent, cross as the

Virgin Mary as rose-tree, Christ as the fulfillment of the priestly func-

tion of the tribe of Levi, hence Exodus, Oh Man/Omen, etc.. Fish's

main concern in this essay ("How to Recognize a Poem When You

See One," 1980: 322-37) is not to mock his students but to ask: How

were they able to do what they did? His analysis does not concern me

here,but

clearly partof the answer is that

recognitionof the Chris-

tian symbolism and typological patterns was what they were learningin that class, and, I would add, the forty years of New Criticism that

had slowly reached down to high school or first-year college level still

pertained. But what interested me, and abashed my postgraduate stu-

dents in Paris when I discussed this essay with them (not as similar test

but as part of a seminar on Interpretation), was not only that none



Brooke-Rose* WhateverHappened to Narratology? 287

of them could have coped with such a long reading assignment, but,more important, that none of them would have produced, nor had the

background to produce, any of these significances. But perhaps theywould not have believed that the assignment was a poem (bereft as itwas of syntax, but also bereft, as they were, of associated meanings forthe names). They might, perhaps, have found a "main theme" (death?love?).

Something remains, then, when critical fashions pass. It may seem

strange, looking back on the days of structuralism, that so many shouldhave made such great reputations on models that were so clearly orturned out so rapidly to be unusable, or on merely translating into

mathematical or logical formulas what could have easily or had alreadybeen said, on the opposite page, much more readably in discourse. Butthese were "representations," just like fictions. And quick jettisoningcan hardly be a reproach in a highly consumerist society where 99% ofboth criticism and artistic production also gets jettisoned after barelya decade. The few models that survived, on the contrary, became sosecond-nature as to make their very use in detailed analysis almost un-

necessary, their codes and categories leaping to the naked eye in a sad,

professional deformation of reading for pleasure, to which indeed the

chief protagonists of structuralism later turned with a sigh of relief.2

Meanwhile, however, generations of students had been taught to

pick out these codes and categories, exactly as the disciples of the NewCriticism had learned to chase through dictionaries for multiple mean-

ings and through scholarly tracts for symbols, icons, emblems, myths.Few could go further than this recognition process, the naming of a

category. Elements that "mere" critics (as early narratologists tendedto dismiss them) would consider artistic weaknesses were flattened outwith elements that

mightbe considered strokes of

genius,both vanish-

ing under the same name. An immense relief that one need no longermake critical judgments, i.e., commit oneself, swept through certainacademic communities. Naming (right or wrong) was enough, as inancient and mediaeval rhetorics. Hence Chaucer's laughter.

But this was a choice, even a dogma, of many structuralists, whosedream of a "science" of literature with universal rules had caused themto evacuate (a) the diachronic dimension, (b) traditional thematics,(c) interpretation, and (d) evaluation. Those were the tasks of "tra-

ditional" criticism and literary history, while the science of literaturehad the task of (1) discovering and describing how a narrative textfunctions, and (2) evolving a universal system. In practice, the scien-

2. Clearly I cannot name all those who developed from early structuralism, butthe two I am obviously thinking of in this paragraph are Gerard Genette (1972,1982, 1983) and Roland Barthes. The last sentence applies to Barthes's Le plaisirdu texte (1973).



288 PoeticsToday 11 :2

tific dream was quietly abandoned, and (a), (b), (c), and (d) have creptback.

For what soon became clear (among other things) is that all four, ifnot explicitly, are present the moment one speaks of a text, even in

the barest plot or theme summary. This applies also to narrative cate-

gories, and hence to the relations among them. For example, one must

move from mere naming to a consideration of the how and the why of

any one text or group of texts, and of course this was done, in studies

of realism, of "parody,"and so on.3 Interpretation begins, accordingto Ricoeur (1971), where structural analysis stops. On the other hand,mere naming is already a critical activity, as indeed Barthes had said

already in his early "pyramid" stage (1966) and again in S/Z (1970),into which the subjectivity of the analyser enters at every stage. In-

deed, I defy anyone to apply Barthes's pyramids (or any other model),even to a simple short story in a class, and not get multiple versions

of micro- and macrosequences. And since the mere picking out of

these to construct the pyramids is simply the assembling of those ele-

ments with which one should come to "critical"conclusions about the

structure, it is only too easy to "arrange"these pyramids with an eyetowards a preconceived and desired result.

But more: all naming is itself a story. When, as a child or an immi-

grant, we learn the nouns of a culture, says Lyotard (1988: 53), as well

as its units of measurement, space, time, exchange, they signify noth-

ing (here he says he is following Kripke, and, as often occurs in France,

gives no reference), but they can be charged with diverse meanings by

attaching them to different types of sentences (descriptive, interroga-tive, ostensive, evaluative, prescriptive, etc.), and by including them in

different discursive genres (persuasive, cognitive, tragic, etc.): "Names

are not learnt in isolation, butlodged

in little stories" (ibid.). Names,units of measurement, space, time, exchange, already form a story,that is, things in relation, or in other words, a structure.

Did Adam tell himself stories when he named the animals? An in-

different pentametre from a lost, early poem of mine (from the dayswhen I still wrote poems every day, instead of a novel every five to

eight years) returns to me: "When Adam named the beasts he started

hell." I wonder what I meant, and what the poem was "about"?Does

3. See Note 2. I cannot nameeveryone,

but in this sentence I am thinking spe-

cifically of Barthes'sS/Z (1970); Philippe Hamon's "Un discours contraint";PaulRicoeur's Tempset recit (1983, 1984); Genette's Palimpsestes1982); the "and so

on"covering psychoanalytical/deconstructiveanalysessuch as Shoshanna Felman's

(1978); Bakhtin'spolyphonic novel (and all the work done by him since, and en-

gendered by him); as well asJ. Hillis Miller(1982) and Deleuze (1969) (differently)on repetition. See References.




naming really solve, and cure, or does it kill? The question is adamic,

endemic, academic.

Thus every name, every category, is in practice itself a story, andby discovering it the theorist tells a story about himself and his placein his culture, as does the writer who exploits the feature named.And since the categories thus produced are not innocent of subjec-tivity, they can be "wrong," or at any rate arbitrary, as arbitrary andconvention-formed as words. An early postmodernist, John Barth, has

always been fascinated by formalism and by systems of every kind,

chiefly to "represent" them, since his characters are themselves manic

systematizers who consistently discover that narrative systems hardlyguarantee their own stability as interpreters. In The Friday Book he

says: "I take the tragic view of categories (that they are, though indis-

pensable, more or less arbitrary),"and he insists that the novel is theleast categorizable of genres (1984: 257).

Are not Harold Bloom's (1975) strange categories arbitrary? Or,

again, I have heard (not read, so I need give no reference) one judg-ment of Brian McHale's theory of postmodernism, as ontological inconcern vs. modernism as epistemological (see n.2), that the opposi-tion is

exactlythe other

wayaround. I

myselfhad been

impressedby the theory as well as the interpretations based thereon, and I onlymention this other view to show how the arbitrariness of categoriescan work: the thesis of an entire book may (rightly or wrongly) beinverted.

Did narratology, then, bring us any further than we were, before we

experienced that unfulfilled dream of objectivity? In the sense that itwas unfulfilled, clearly not, nor would even its staunchest protagoniststhen make that claim today, all the less so since the scientist is now

recognisedas

workingunder

subjectiveconstraints and in a

"tropi-cal discourse" similar to those of the historian and literary critic. Itcould even be said, superficially at least, that with the comeback ofmuch that structuralism had jettisoned, poststructuralism is a kind of

complex return to, and sophisticated inversion of, the New Criticism:Paradoxes are not "resolved"but deconstructed and called aporia;dis-turbances in the system are revelled in and even created. The notionof mastery is no longer tenable.

In Le miragelinguistique 1988), Thomas Pavel traces the structuralist

scientific claim through all its stages, and there is no point in my doingso here. What interests me about that illusion (which I partly shared)is precisely that the scientific dream (itself a story, a fiction, about alack of humility) was achieved via linguistics, the only "science" in thehumanities; and that when it turned out to be (in most cases, but espe-cially in the case of structuralist linguistics), perhaps a science but not



290 PoeticsToday 11:2

humanist enough, literary theory turned "back"to its oldest rival and

ally, philosophy. Yet it did so considerably strengthened by the rigor

learned from linguistics (as philosophy too had been strengthened byits own kind of linguistic analysis).

For it is philosophy, not linguistics, that from Nietzsche onwards

has slowly but thoroughly undermined our fixed notions about uni-

versality, truth, reality, representation, metanarratives (in Lyotard'ssense), that has permeated in various forms all criticism from Plato to

the mid-twentieth century.Part of the difficulty is that a fictional text is fictional only as a whole:

each separate sentence has exactly the same form as a "true"sentence,

which is what makes the problem of irony, or the poet's "lies," ac-cording to Plato, or (to take a more specific instance), the problem of

"voice" in free indirect speech (see Banfield 1982) so difficult to ana-

lyse. It is also what caused Austin (1971 [1962]) to exclude all fiction

from his philosophical analysis of the performative, although all his

examples are (necessarily) fictions.

Narratology has been important in accounting for the exact mecha-

nisms through which these various illusions are achieved, as linguisticscan account for the unconscious grammar we are fabricating or fol-

lowing when we utter sentences. All, all is language, even the reader.But linguistics seemed unable to go much beyond the structure of the

sentence and remain significant, despite attempts at discourse analy-sis. For in fact all, all is text, and textuality is a far richer conceptthan either syntax or lexis, including as it does intertextuality of manykinds, secret polemic, or the aporetic but powerful notion that anytext does the opposite of what it says it does.

As a narratologist, I contributed little, I believe, to the wide move-

ments described(briefly

andinadequately)

in this scenario-and this

summary description is also a story, "my" fiction. I was good at ma-

nipulating other people's scenarios in my criticism, and I'm a goodcritic.

As a novelist, I went through all the stages of apprenticeship, as anywriter must, and I believe that the scorn of some writers and critics

for theory and what they call "mere"technique is a purely literary and

semiliterate phenomenon which no one today would dare express in

discussing music or the visual arts (for aside from the linguistic mirage,there is

another,more

popularillusion that

anyonewho has learned to

write at school can Write,while only painting, sculpture, composition,need to be learned technically as well as through instinct and prac-

tice). To transgress intelligently, however, one must know the rule. I

benefited immensely from understanding in every tiny detail how a

narrative text functions. Obviously, I know that this isn't enough. "I1ne suffit pas pour &treun grand poete de savoir a fond la syntaxe et




de ne pas faire de fautes de langue!" says the painter Frenhofer inBalzac's Le chef d'oeuvre nconnu [To be a great poet, it is not enough

to know the syntax and not to make errors of language] (1986 [1836;rev. 1839]: 46); and "le dessin n'existe pas ... la ligne est le moyenpar lequel l'homme se rend compte de l'effet de la lumiere sur les

objets; mais il n'y a pas de lignes dans la nature" [draughtsmanshipdoes not exist ... the line is the means by which man becomes awareof the light's effect on objects; but there are no lines in nature] (ibid.:56). But then, Frenhofer was mad (his masterpiece means nothing toPorbus nor to Poussin, who sees "nothing" and calls it une muraillede

peinture), although Frenhofer is now interesting modern critics more

and more as forerunner, not only of Cezanne (who identified withhim) or Picasso, but of Pollock or de Kooning (see Anthony Rudolf'sintroduction to his translation [1988]).

This is the old quarrel, not only between line and colour, but be-tween genius and work (Longinus): the genius who makes elementarynarratological errors as well as errors of "taste,"but is nevertheless a

genius (say, Dickens) vs. the plodding poet or writer who knows allthe rules, but whose text lies dead on the page (no names). Things arenever quite so simple. Nevertheless, most good writers do understand

form, which (and this is the point of Balzac'sstory) is protean, godlike.Narrative "syntax" is not enough. Yet I am often surprised to dis-

cover that many a modern novelist seems, not transgressive, but naivelyunconscious of this "mere" technique. Indeed, if one sinks very low, tothe level of television serials, their authors seem conscious of neitherline (syntax) nor colour (protean form, transmuted). If narrative "syn-tax" isn't enough, it is nevertheless essential, and the more one recog-nizes the implications of every word one writes, every change of tenseor mood or voice

(toname

onlythree

categories),the more difficult it

is to write.

Narratology is, after all, as I hope I have made clear, here andthere, just another narrative, not only extradiegetic, metalinguistic,transtextual, paratextual, hypotextual, extratextual, intertextual, etc.,but also, yes, textual, all at the same time. Nevertheless, the study of

narratological phenomena became, as so often happens, an endlessdiscussion about how to speak of them. The story of narratology be-came as self-reflexive as a postmodern novel. But, after all, every agehas the rhetoric it deserves.

ReferencesAustin, J. L.

1971 [1962] How to Do Things with Words(Oxford: Oxford University Press).Bakhtin, Mikhail

1970 [1929; trans. 1963] La poetique de Dostoievski, trans. Isabelle Kolitcheff

(Paris: Seuil).



292 PoeticsToday 1 1:2

1978 [trans. 1975] Esthetiqueet theorie du roman, trans. Daria Olivier (Paris: Gal-

limard).

Balzac, Honore de1986 [1836-39] Le chef d'oeuvre inconnu (Paris: Garnier-Flammarion).

Banfield, Ann

1982 UnspeakableSentences: Narration and Representation in the Language of Fiction

(London: Routledge and Kegan Paul).Barth, John

1984 The Friday Book: Essays and Other Non-Fiction (New York: Putnam).

Barthes, Roland

1977 [1966] "Analyse structurale des recits," in Poetique du recit, Collection

Points: 7-57 (Paris: Seuil).1970 S/Z (Paris: Seuil).

1973 Le plaisir du texte (Paris: Seuil).Bloom, Harold

1975 A Map of Misreading (Oxford: Oxford University Press).Culler, Jonathan

1983 On Deconstruction (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul).

Deleuze, Gilles

1969 Difference et repetition(Paris: P.U.F.).Felman, Shoshanna

1978 Lafolie et la chose litteraire (Paris: Seuil).

Ferry, Luc, and A. Renault

1988 Heidegger et les Modernes(Paris: Grasset).Fish, Stanley

1980 "How to Recognize a Poem When You See One," in Is There a Text in This

Class?, 322-37 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press).

Frye, Northrop1969 [1957] Anatomy of Criticism (New York: Atheneum).

Genette, Gerard

1972 "Discours du recit," in Figures III, 67-273 (Paris: Seuil).1982 Palimpsestes (Paris: Seuil).1983 Nouveau discours du recit (Paris: Seuil).

Hassan, Ihab

1982 [1971] The Dismembermentof Orpheus: Towarda PostmodernLiterature (Madi-son: University of Wisconsin Press).

1975 Paracriticisms (Urbana: University of Illinois Press).1980 The Right Promethean Fire (Urbana: University of Illinois Press).

Lyotard, Jean-Francois1979 La condition postmoderne(Paris: Editions de Minuit).1988 Le postmoderneexpliqueaux enfants (Paris: Editions Galilee).

McHale, Brian

1987 PostmodernistFiction (London: Methuen).

Miller,J. Hillis1982 Fiction and Representation (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press).

Pavel, Thomas

1988 Le mirage linguistique (Paris: Editions de Minuit).

Richard, Claude

1985 "The Character of Fiction as Physical System or Quantity and Quality in

The Floating Opera,"in Delta 21, 17-29 (Presses Universitaires de Montpellier).Ricoeur, Paul

1971 "What Is a Text," in Hermeneutics and the Human Sciences, edited by John B.

Thompson, 145-64 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press).



Brooke-Rose*Whatever Happened to Narratology? 293

1983 Tempset recit I (Paris: Seuil).1984 Tempset recit II (Paris: Seuil).

Sontag, Susan1966 Against Interpretation (London: Secker and Warburg).Zavarzadeh, Mas'ud

1976 The MythopoeicReality: The Postwar AmericanNonfiction Novel (Urbana: Uni-

versity of Illinois Press).

Documents

Whatever Happened to Narratology