Materi Perkuliahan Pascasarjana UMPAR

Discourse
Analysis  for
Language
Teachers
MICHAEL
McCAR THY
a
Cam  bridge Language
Teaching Library Discourse Analysis
for Language Teachers CAMBRIDGE LANGUAGE TEACHING  LIBRARY
A series covering central issues  in language teaching and learning, by  authors
who have expert knowledge in their field.
In this series:
Meet ia Language Lcatning edited by Jane Arnold
Approaches and Methods in  Language Teaching by Jack C. Richards ad
Theodore S.  Rodgen
Appropriate Methodology and  Social Context b.y  Ad*  Holliday
Beyond Training by Jack C.  Richards
Cdahaive  Action Research For English Language Teachers by Anne Bum
Collaborative Language Learning  and Teaching edited by Dad  Nunan
Communicative Language Teaching by William Liftlewood
Designing  Tasks for the Communiative Classroom by  David  Nunan
Developing Reading Skills by Franpise Grellet
Developments  in English for Specific  Purposes by  Tony Dudley-Evans and
Maggie lo  St  John
Discourse Analysis for Lauguage Teachers by Michael McCarthy
Discourse and Language Education by Evelyn Hatch
English for Academic Purposes by R.  R. Jordan
Englrsh for Specific Purposes  by Tom Hutchinson and Alan Waters
Establishing Self-Access: From Theory  to Ptactice by David Gardner  and
Lindsay Miller
Foreign  and Second  Language Learning by William Litthood
Language Learning  in Intercultural  Perspective edited by Michael Byram
and Michael Fhing
The  Language Teaching  Matrix by  Jack C. Richards
Liwigulge Test Construction and Evaluation by  J.  Charles Alderson,
Caroline Clapham ad  Dianne Wall
Learnerantredness as Language Education by Ian Tudor
Managing Curricular  Innovation by Numa Markee
Materials Development in Language Teaching edited by Brian Tomlinson
Psychology for Langauage Teachers  by Marion Williams  and Robert L. Burden
Research Methdds in Language  Learning by David Nunan
Second Language Teacher Education edited by  Jack C. Richards and
David Nunan
Society and the Language Classroom edited by Hywel Coleman
Teacher Learning in Language Teaching edited by Donald Freeman and
Jack C. Richards
Teaching the Spoken Language by Gillirrn Brown and George Ylsle
Understanding Research in Second  Language Learning by James Dean Brown
Vocabulary: Description, Acquisition and Pedagogy edited by Norbert Schmitt
and Michael McCartby
Vocabulary, Semantics, and Language Education by Evelyn Hatch and
Cheryl Broum
Voices from the Language Classroom edited by Kathleen M. Bailey ad
David Nunun Discourse Analysis
for Language Teachers
Michael McCarthy
CAMBRIDGE
UNIVERSITY PRESS PUBLISHED  BY  THE  PRESS  SYNDICATE  OF  THE UNIVERSITY  OF  CAMBRIDGE
The Pia Building, Tmpington Street,  Cambridge, United Kingdom
CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY  PRESS
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43 Cambridge University Press  1991
This book is in copyright. Subjezt to statutory  exception
and to the provisions of relevant colleaivc  licensing agrccmenta,
no reproduction of any  part may take place without
the written permission of Cambridge University Press.
First  published 1991
Tenth printing 2000
A  wialogue record  for  this book  is avaikrble  fim  the British Li'my
Library of Congress caialogrcc curd wb+w  90-20850
Printed in the  United Kingdom at the University h,  Cambridge
ISBN  0 521 36541 4 hard covers
ISBN  0 521 36746 8 paperback Dedication
To  John  Harrington Acknowledgements
Preface
Chapter 1  What is discourse analysis?
1.1  A brief historical overview
1.2  Form and function
1.3  Speech acts and discourse structures
1.4  The scope of  discourse analysis
1.5  Spoken discourse: models of  analysis
1.6  Conversations outside the classroom
1.7  Talk as a social activity
1.8  Written discourse
1.9  Text and interpretation
1.10  Larger patterns in text
1.11  Conclusion
Chapter 2  Dlscwrse analyslr and grammar
2.1  Introduction
2.2  Grammatical cohesion and textuality
2.2.1  Reference
2.2.2  Ellipsis and substitution
2.2.3  Conjunction
2.3  Theme and rheme
2.4  Tense and aspect
2.5  Conclusion
Chapter 3  Discounce analysis and vocabulary
3.1  Introduction
3.2  Lexical cohesion
3.3  Lexis in talk Contents
3.4  Textual aspeas of  lexical competence
3.5  Vocabulary and the organising of  text
3.6  Signalling  lam  textual patterns
3.7  Register and signalling vocabulary
3.8  Modality
3.9  Conclusion
Chapfer 4  Dlircoum analyrir,  and phonology
4.1  Introduction
4.2  Pronunciation
4.3  Rhythm
4.4  Word stress and prominence
4.5  The placing of prominence
4.6  Intonational units
4.7  Tones and their meanings
4.7.1  Types of  tones
4.7.2  Grammatical approaches
4.7.3  Attitudinal approaches
4.7.4  Interactive  approaches
4.8  Key
4.9  Pitch across speakers
4.10  Summary
4.11  Conclusion
Chapter 5  Spoken lanwaw
5.1  Introduction
5.2  Adjacency pairs
5.3  Exchanges
5.4  Turnding
5.5  Transactions and topics
5.5.1  Transactions
5.5.2  Topics
5.6  Interactional and transactional  talk
5.7  Stories, anecdotes, jokes
5.8  Other spoken discourse  types
5.9  Speech and  grammar
5.10  Conclusion Chapter 6  Wtmn  Ianguage
6.1  Introduction
6.2  Text types
6.3  Spetch and writing
6.4  Units in written discourse
6.5  Clause relations
6.6  Getting  to grips with laqger ws
6.7  Patterns and the learner
6.8  Culture and rhetoric
6.9  Discourse and the reader
6.10 Conclusion
Guldance for Reader activities
References
Index Acknowledgements
Thanks are due  to  Jim  Lawley,  of  Avila,  Spain, for  permission  to  use
conversational  data  reproduced in  Chapter  5,  to  Roger Smith,  Gill
Meldrum and Hilary Boo1 of  CELE, University of Nottingham, for assist-
ance with  the gathering of written data, and to the late Michael Griffiths,
Senior Prison  Officer  at HM  Prison,  Cardiff,  for  permission  to  use  an
interview with him, part of which is transcribed in Chapter 4.
The  author  and  publishers  are grateful  to  the  authors,  publishers  and
others who have given permission for the use of copyright material. It has
not been  possible to trace the sources of  all the material used  and in such
cases the publishers would welcome information from copyright owners.
Edward Arnold  for the extract from M. A.  K.  Halliday  (1985) An  Intro-
duction  to Functional Grammar on pp. 47, 58; The Birmingham Post  for
the article on p. 27; British Nuclear Forum for the advertisement on p. 49;
CambridgelNewmarket  Town Crier for the article on p.  170; Cambridge
University  Press  for  the  extract from Brown  and Yule  (1983) Discourse
Analysis on pp.  1024, Cambridge Weekly News for the article on pp. 75,
85,  159; Collins ELT for the extracts from the Collins COBUlLD English
Language Dictionary on p. 84;  the Consumers' Association for the extracts
from Which?  on pp. 25,26,37,  86, 160; Elida Gibbs for the advertisement
on p.  56; A.  Firth  for the extract on p.  50; Ford Motor Company for the
advertisement on p. 32; Headway Publications for  the article from Money-
care  on  p.  158; Hunting  Specialised  Products  (UK) Ltd  for the  adver-
tisement on p.  72;  Imperial Chemical  Industries plc  and Cogents for the
advertisement for Lawnsman Mosskiller on p.  83; International Certificate
Conference and  Padagogische Arbeitsstelle des DVV  for the extracts on
pp. 124,  125,  126,  140-1, 150-1;  D.  Johnson for  the  article  from  The
Guardian  on p. 41; Longman Group UK Ltd for  the extract from D. Crystal
and  D.  Davy (1975) Advanced  Conversational English  on  p.  69; New
Statesman & Society  for the extracts from New Society on pp. 77, 80, 81
and 82; Newsweek International for  the extracts  from Newsweek on pp. 37,
41-2;  The Observer for the extracts on pp.  28, 30,40,57,  77,79; Oxford
University Press for the extract from J. McH. Sinclair and R. M. Coulthard
(1975) Towards an  Analysis  of  Discourse  on  p.  13;  J. Svartvik  for  the
extract from Svartvik and Quirk (1980) A Corpus of  English Conversation
on  pp.  70-1;  the University  of  Birmingham  on  behalf  of  thecopyright
holders for  the extracts  from the Birmingham Collection of English Text  on
pp.  10,  17; World Press Network  for the extracts from New Scientist  on
pp. 37,57. Any  language teacher  who  tries  to  keep  abreast  with  developments  in
Descriptive and Applied Linguistics faces a  very difficult task,  for books
and journals  in  the field have grown in number at a bewildering rate over
the last twenty years. At  the same time, with  the pressures created by  the
drive  towards professionalisation in fields such as ELT,  it has become more
and more  important  that  language teachers  do keep up-to-date with develop-
ments within, and relevant to, their field.
One such  area  is discourse analysis. Arising out of  a  variety  of  disci-
plines,  including  linguistics, sociology, psychology,  and  anthropology,
discourse analysis  has built a significant foundation for itself in Descriptive,
and latterly, Applied,  Linguistics.  The various  disciplines that  feed  into
discourse analysis have shared a common interest  in  language in use,  in
how  real  people  use  real  language,  as  opposed  to  studying  artificially
created sentences. Discourse analysis is therefore of  immediate interest to
language teachers because we  too have long had the question of how people
use language uppermost in our minds when we design teaching materials,
or when we engage  learners in  exercises and  activities aimed  at making
them proficient users of  their target language, or when we evaluate a piece
of commercially published material before deciding to use it.
Experienced  language teachers, in general, have sound instincts  as  to
what is natural and authentic in language teaching and what is artificial or
goes  counter to all sensible intuition of  how language is used.  They also
know that artificiality can be useful at times, in order to simplify complex
language for  initial teaching purposes. But  they  cannot  hope  to have an
instinctive possession of  the vast amount of detailed insight that years of
close  observation  by  numerous  investigators has produced: insight  into
how texts are structured  beyond  sentence-level; how talk  follows regular
patterns in a wide range of different situations; how such complex areas as
intonation operate  in  communication;  and  how discourse norms  (the
underlying rules that speakers and writers adhere to) and their realisations
(the  actual  language forms which reflect those rules) in language differ from
culture  to culture.  The aim  of  this book  is  to  supply  such  insight in a
condensed form.
Mine  is  not the  first  introduction  to  discourse  analysis;  Chapter  1
mentions sevetal indispensable readings that anyone wishing to pursue the
subject should tackle. But it is the first to attempt to mediate selectively a Preface
wide range  of  research  specifically  for  the  practical  needs  of  language
teachers.  In  this respect  it  is distinctly different  from conventional  intro-
ductions. It does not set out to report everything about discours~nalysis,
for  not  everything  is of  relevance  to  language  teachers. Decisions have
therefore been made along the way to exclude discussion of material that
may  be very  interesting in  itself,  but of  little practical  adaptability to the
language teaching context.  For  instance, within pragmatics,  the study of
how  meaning  is  created in  context  (which  thus  shares  an  undefined
frontier with discourse analysis),  the conversational maxims of H. P. Grice
(1975) have been very  influential. These are a  set of  four common-sense
norms that all speakers adhere to when conversing (c.g.  'be  relevant'; 'be
truthful').  In a decade of English language teaching since they first came to
my  notice, I have never met an occasion where the maxims could be use-
fully  applied,  although  in  my  teaching  of  literary  stylistics,  they have
helped  my  students  understand  some  of  the  techniques  writers  use  to
undermine their readers' expectations. Grice, therefore, does not figure in
this book. But,  as with any  introduction, the sifting process  is ultimately
subjective, and readers may find that things have been included that do not
seem immediately relevant to their needs as teachers; others already well-
tutored  in  discourse analysis will  wish  that  certain names  and areas of
investigation had  been  included or given more  attention.  It is my  hope,
nonetheless,  that most readers will find the selection of  topics and names
listed in the index to be a  fair and representative range of material. I also
hope that language teachen will find the structure of  the book, a two-part
framework  based  on  (a)  the  familiar  levels  of  conventional language
description,  and  (b)  the skills of  speaking and writing,  unforbidding and
usable.
The  book tries  to  illustrate  everything with  real  data,  spoken  and
written, in the true spirit of discourse analysis. In the case of spoken data, I
have tried to mix my own data with that of others so that readers might be
directed  towards useful  published sources  if  they  have no access to data
themselves. Because a lot of  the data is my own, I apologise to non-British
readers  if  it octasionally  seems  rather Brito-centric  in  its subject matter.
The  speakers and  writers  of  the  non-native speaker  data  do,  however,
include German, Italian, Hungarian, Turkish, Brazilian, Spanish, Chinese,
Korean and Japanese learners.
The book does not stop at  theory and description, but it does not go so
far as telling its readers how to teach. This is because, first and foremost,
discourse analysis  is not a method  for teaching  languages;  it is a way of
describing and understanding how language is used. But it is also because
there are as many ways of adapting new developments in description to  the
everyday business of teaching as  there are  language  teachers. So, although I
occasionally report on my  own teaching (especially in Chapters 5 and 6),
and present data gathered from my own EFL  classes, it will be for you, the Preface
reader, ultimately to decide whether and how any of  this array of material
can be used  in your situation.
In preparing a book of  this complexity, many ppk  have inevitably had
a hand. The original inspiration came frm cight@at%  of  responding to  the
insatiable intellectual curiosity of MA students'at thc University of  Bir-
mingham, most of whom were practising ~~~~~  and almost all
of  whom asked  for more  on  discourse analysis w'hmever  they  had the
chance. An equal number of  undergraduates who studied language as part
of  their English degree also helped to shape thebook,
In addition, several years of giving in-service courseslb~~.sin  West
Germany and Finland have suggested new areas and dmqjmed-gk-sader
activities, which have been  tried out on course participants, -In paw,
the enthusiasm of  the PILC groups of  the Language Centres of  the Finnish
Universities in the years 1987-9  must be mentioned as one of  the unfailing
sources of  inspiration  to get the book done.
I  must  also  mention  my  colleagues  in  the International  Certificate
Conference (ICC),  whose annual pilgrimage to Chorley, Lancashire in the
last few years has met with the penance of being subjected to  the material as
it  developed;  particular thanks  here  go  to  Tony  Fitzpatrick  of  VHS
Frankfurt,  for his constant support.
Colleagues  at  the Universities of Birmingham and Nottingham who have
encouraged  and  inspired me  are  almost  too  numerous  to mention,  but
particular thanks go to David Brazil  (who also checked the  intonation  in
Chapter  4),  Mike  Hoey,  Tim  Johns, Martin  Hewings  and Malcolm
Coulthard for comments at seminars and in informal chats at Birmingham,
and to my  new colleagues (but old friends and associates) at Nottingham,
Ron Carter and Margaret Berry, who have already been subjected to some
of  the material and encouraged my work. My new students at Nottingham
have also provided feedback on more recent versions of  the material.
But above all, without the support of  John Sinclair of Birmingham and
his infinitely creative ideas and comments, the notion  that there was ever
anything  interesting  in language other than sentences would probably never
have entered my head.
So much  for  the university  environment  that  spawned  the  book.  The
most  important,  single influence on  its  final  shape has  been  my  editor,
Michael Swan, whose good-humoured scepticism as to whether academics
have anything worth saying  to language teachers out  there in the real world
has been balanced by an open mind, razor-sharp comments on the  text and
an unflagging willingness  to  enter  into intellectual debate, all of which have
been  a challenge and a reason to keep going to the bitter end.
Annemarie Young  at CUP,  who  commissioned this book,  has  neve
oomplained when I have missed deadlines and has always made me feel that
the enterprise was worth it. She too has made invaluable contributions to
the book as  it has  taken shape. Brigit Viney, who has edited the manuscript, Preface
has also made many useful suggestions as to how it might be made more
reader-friendly and h.as purged a number of  inconsistencies  and infelicities
that lurked therein.
On the  home  front,  my  partner, Jeanne McCarten,  has  offered  the
professional expertise of a publisher and the personal support that provides
a  stable foundation for  such  an undertaking; her penance  has  been  an
unfair share of  the washing up while I pounded  the keys of our computer.
Liz Evans, Juliette Leverington and Enid Perrin have all done their bit of
key-pounding to type up various versions of  the manuscript, and I  thank
them, too.
But  finally,  I  want  to  thank  a primary-school teacher  of  mine,-John
Harrington of Cardiff, who, in the perspective  of  the receding past, emerges
more and more as the person who started everything for me in educational
terms, and to whom this book is respectfully, and affectionately, dedicated.
Cambridge, March 1990 'I  only  said  "if"!'  poor  Alice
pleaded in a piteous tone.
The  two  Queens  looked  at
each other, and the Red Queen
remarked, with a  little shudder,
'She says she only said "if"-'
'But  she said  a  great deal
more  than that!'  the  White
Queen  moaned,  wringing  her
hands.'Oh, ever so much more
than that!'
Lewis Carroll:  7?1tvugh  the Looking
018m
1.1  A brief historical overview
Discourse analysis is concerned with the study of  the relationship between
language  and  the  contexts  in  which  it  is  used.  It  grew  out  of  work in
different disciplines  in  the  1960s and  early  1970s,  including  linguistics,
semiotics,  psychology,  anthropology  and  sociology.  Discourse analysts
study language  in  use:  written texts of  all kinds,  and  spoken data,  from
conversation to highly  institutionalised forms of  talk.
At  a  time when  linguistics was  largely concerned with  the  analysis of
single sentences, Zellig Harris published a paper with the title 'Discourse
analysis'  (Harris 1952). Harris was interested in the distribution of  linguis-
tic  elements-in extended texts, and the links between the text and its social
situation,  though his paper is a far cry from the discourse analysis we are
hsed to nowadays. Also important in the early years was the emergence of
stmiotics  and the French structuralist  approach  to  the study of narrative. In
the 1960s, Dell Hymes provided a sociological  perspective with the study of
speech in its social wmng (e.g. Hymes 1964). The linguistic philosophers
sudr as Austin (1962),  Searle (1969)  and Grice (1975)  were also influential  in
tbe  study of  language as social action,  reflected in  speech-act  theory and
the  formulation  of  conversational  maxims,  alongside the  emergence of 1  What  is discourse analysis?
pragmatics, which  is the study of meaning in context (see Levinson  1983;
Leech 1983).
British discourse analysis was greatly influenced by M. A. K.  Halliday's
functional  approach  to  language  (e.g.  Halliday  1973), which  in  turn  has
connexions with  the  Prague  School  of  linguists. Halliday's  framework
emphasises  the social functions of  language and the  thematic and  infor-
mational  structure of  speech and writing. Also  important  in Britain were
Sinclair  and Coulthard  (1975) at  the  University  of  Birmingham,  who
developed  a model  for the description of  teacher-pupil  talk,  based  on a
hierarchy of  discourse units. Other similar work  has dealt with  doctor-
patient interaction,  service  encounters,  interviews,  debates  and  business
negotiations, as well  as monologues. Novel work  in  the British  tradition
has  also  been  done  on  intonation  in  discourse.  The Bfitish  work has
principally followed structural-linguistic  criteria, on the basis of  the  iso-
lation  of  units,  and kts of  rules defining well-formed sequences of  dis-
course.
American discourse analysis  has  been  dominated  by  work within the
ethnomethodological tradition,  which  emphasises the research method of
close observation of groups of people communicating in natural settin~s.  It
examines types of  speech  event such  as storytelling, greeting rituals and
verbal  duels  in  different cultural and  social settings  (e.g.  Gumperz  and
Hymes  1972). What  is  often  called  conversation  analysis  within  the
American  tradition  can also  be included  under  the  general heading  of
discourse analysis.  In  conversational analysis,  the  emphasis  is  not  upon
building structural models but on the close observation of the behaviour of
participants  in  talk  and on  patterns  which recur  over  a  wide  range  of
natural data. The work of Goffman (1976; 1979),  and Sacks, Schegloff and
Jefferson  (1974) is  important  in  the study of  conversational norms,  turn-
taking, and other aspects of spoken interaction. Alongside the conversation
analysts, working within  the  sociolinguistic  tradition,  Labov's  investi-
gations  of  oral  storytelling  have  also  contributed  to  a  long history  of
interest in  narrative discourse. The American work has produced a  large
number of descriptions of discourse  types, as well as  insights  into the social
constraints of  politeness and face-preserving phenomena  in  talk, overlap-
ping with British work in pragmatics.
Also relevant to the development of  discourse analysis as a whole is the
work  of  text grammarians, working mostly with written  language. Text
grammarians see texts as  language elements  strung  together in relationships
with one another that can be defined. Linguists such as Van Dijk (1972), De
Beaugrande  (1980), Halliday  and  Hasan  (1976) have made  a  significant
impact in this area. The Prague School of  linguists, with their interest in the
structuring of  information  in discourse, has also been  influential.  Its most
important contribution has been  to show the links between grammar and
iscourse.  d' 1.2  Form andfktimk
Discowse analysis has grown  into  a wide-ranging and  heterogeneous
discipline which finds  its unity  in  the description of  language above the
sentence  and an interest  in the contexts and cultural  influences which affect
language  in use. It is also now, increasingly, forming a backdrop to research
in  Appliod  Linguistics,  and  second  language  learning  and  teachingdin
particular.
The famous British comedy duo, Eric Morecambe andErnie Wise, started
one'  of their shows in 1973 with the following  dia,lqpe:
(1.1)  Ernie:  Tell 'em about the show.
Eric (to the audience): Have we got a show for you might  folks!
Have we got a show for you!  (aside  to Ernie) Have we got a
show for them?
This short dialogue  raises a number of problems for anyone wishing  to do  a
linguistic analysis of  it; not  least  is  the question of  why  it  is  funny  (the
audience  laughed at Eric's question  to Ernie). Most people would agree  that
it is funny because Eric is playing with a grammatical structure  that seems
to be ambiguous: 'Have we got a show for you!'  has an inverted verb and
subject. Inversion of the verb and its subject happens only under restricted
conditions  in English; the most typical circumstances  in which this happens
is when questions are being asked, but it also happens in exclamations (e.g.
'Wasn't  my  face red!').  So Eric's  repeated grammatical  fom  clearly under-
goes a change in how it is interpreted  by  the audience between  its second
and third occurrence in the dialogue. Eric's  inverted grammatical fom  in
its first two occurrences clearly has the hnction of an exclamation, telling
the  audience something, not  asking them  anything, until the humorous
moment  when he begms.to doubt whether they do have a show to offer, at
which point  he uses  the same  grammatical form  to  ask Ernie a genuine
qucstion. There  seems,  then,  to be  a  lack of  one-to-one  correspondence
between grammatical form and communicative  function;  the inverted form
in itselfdoes not inherently carry an exclamatory  or  a questioning function.
By  the  same  token,  in other  situations, an' uninverted  declarative form
(subject before verb),  typically associated with 'statements',  might be heard
as a question requiring an answer:
(1  -2)  A:  You're  leaving for London.
Ek  Yes,  immediately.
So how we  interpret grammatical forms depends on a number of  factors,
some linguistic, some  purely  situational. One linguistic  feature that may
affect our  interpretation is  the  intonation.  In  the Eric  and Ernie sketch,
Eric's  intonation was as follows: 1  What  is discourse analysis?
(1.3)  Eric (to the audience): Have we got a SHOW for you tonight folks!
Have we got a SHOW for you! (aside to Ernie)
HAVE
we got a show for them?
Two variables in Eric's  delivery change. Firstly, the tone contour, i.e.  the
direction of  his pitch, whether  it rises or falls, changes (his last utterance,
'have we got a  show for them'  ends -in  a rising tone). Secondly, his voice
jumps  to a higher pitch  level  (repr&ented here by writing have above the
line).  Is it  this which makes his utterance a question? Not necessarily. Many
questions have only falling tones, as in the following:
(1.4)  A: What was he wearing?
B:  An anorak.
A:  But was it his?
So the intonation does not inherently carry the function of question either,
any more than the inversion of auxiliary verb and subject did. Grammatical
forms and phonological forms examined separately are unreliable indica-
tors of function; when they are  taken together, and looked at  in context, we
can come to some decision about functign. So decisions  about communica:
tive  function  cannot  solely  be  the  domain  of  grammar  or  phonology.
Discourse analysis is not entirely separate from the study of  grammar and
phonology, as we shall see in Chapters 2 and 4, but discourse analysts are
intetested in a lot more than linguistic  forms. Their concerns include how it
is that Eric and Ernie interpret each other's grammar appropriately (Ernie
commands Eric  to tell the audience, Eric asks Ernie a question, etc.), how it
is that the dialogue between the two comics is coherent and not gobbledy-
gook, what Eric and Ernie's  roles are in relation  to one another, and what
sort of  'rules'  or conventions they are following as they converse with one
another.
Eric and Ernie's conversation is only one  example (and a rather crazy one
at  that) of  spoken interaction; most of  us in a typical week will observe or
take part  in a wide range of  different types of  spoken interaction: phone
calls,  buying things in shops,  perhaps an  interview for  a  job,  or with a
doctor, or with an employer, talking formally at meetings or in classrooms,
informally  in cafks or on buses,  or intimately with our friends and  loved
ones. These situations will have their own formulae  and conventions which
we  follow; they will  have different  ways  of  opening  and  closing  the
encounter, different  role  relationships, different purposes  and  different
settings. Discourse analysis is interested in  all these different factors and
tries to  account  for  them in a rigorous fashion with a separate  set  of
descriptive labels from those used by  conventional grammarians. The first
fundamental distinction  we  have noted is  between  language forms  and
discourse  functions;  once we  have  made  this  distinction a  lot  of  other 1.3  Speech acts and discourse  stmctwra
conclusions can follow, and the labels used to describe discourse need not
clash at all with those we  are all used  to  in grammar. They will  in  fact
complement and enrich each other. Chapters 2,3 and 4 of  this book will
therefore be concerned with examining the relationships between language
forms (grammatical,  lexical and phonological ones),  and discourse func-
tions,  for it  is language  forms,  above all, which are the raw material of
language teaching, while  the  overall  aim  is  to  enable learners  to  use
language functionally.
Can you create a context and  suggest an  intonation for the forms  in  the
left-hand column so that they would be heard as performing the functions
in the right-hand column, without changing their grammatical structure?
1.  did I make a fool of myself  (a) question  (b) exclamation
2.  you don't  love me  (a) question  (b) statement
3.  youeatit  (a) statement  (b) command
4.  switch the light on  (a) command  (b)  question
1.3  Speedr acts and diawurse structures
So far we have suggested that form and function have to be  separated to
understand  what  is  happening  in discourse; this  may  be  necessary  to
analyse Eric and Ernie's zany dialogue, but why discourse analysis?  Applied
linguists and language teachers have been  familiar with  the term function
for years now; are we not simply  talking about  'functions'  when we analyse
Eric and Ernie's  talk? Why  complicate matters with a whole new set of
jargon?
In one sense we are talking about 'functions': we are  concerned as much
with what Eric and Ernie are doing with language as with what  they  are
saying. When we say that a particular bit of speech or writing is a request or
an  instruction or an exemplification we  are concentrating  on what  that
piece of  language is doing, or how the listenerheader is supposed to react;
for this reason, such entities are often also called speech acts  (see Austin
1%2  and Searle 1%9).  Each of  the stretches of  language that are carrying
the  force  of  requesting, instructing,  and  so on  is  seen  as  performing a
particular act; Eric's  exclamation was performing the act of  informing the
audience  that  a great  show was  in  store for  them.  So  the  approach  to 1  What  is discourse analysis?
communicative language teaching that emphasises the functions or speech
acts  that pieces of language perform overlaps in an important sense with the
preoccupations of discourse analysts. We are all familiar with coursebooks
that say  things  like:  'Here  are some questions which  can help people  to
remember experiences which  they had almost forgotten: "Have  you ever
.  .  .  ?",  "Tell  me  about  the  time  you  .  . .  ?",  "I  hear  you  once  .  .  .  ?",
"Didn't  you once . . .  ?',  "You've  .  .  ., haven't  you?'"*.  Materiab such as
these are concerned with  speech acts, with what is done with words, not
just  the grammatical and lexical forms of what is said.
But when we speak or write, we do not  just  utter a  string of  linguistic
forms, without  beginning, middle or end, and  anyway, we  have already
demonstrated the difficulty of  assigning a function to a particular form of
grammar and/or vocabulary. If  we had  taken Eric's  words 'have we got a
show for you' and treated them as a sentence, written on a page (perhaps  to
exemplify a particular  structure, or particular vocabulary), it would have
been  impossible to attach  a  functional  lahi to it with absolute certainty
other  than  to  say  that  in  a  large number  of  contexts this would  most
typically  be  heard  as  a  question.  Now  this is undoubtedly  a  valuable
generalisation to make for a  learner, and many  notional-functional lan-
guage coursebooks do just  that,  offering short phrases or clauses which
characteristicaily  fulfil functions such as 'apologising'  or  'making a polite
request'. But the discourse analyst is much more interested in the process by
which,  for example, an inverted verb and subject come to be heard as an
informing speech act, and to get at  this, we must have our speech acts fully
contextualised both in terms of the surrounding  text and of the key features
of  the situation. Discourse analysis is thus fundamentally concerned with
the relationship between language and the contexts of  its use.
And there  is more to  the story than merely labelling chains of speech acts.
Firstly,  as we  have said, discourses have beginnings, middles and ends.
How is it, for example, that we feel that we are coming in in the middle of
this conversation and leaving it before it has ended?
(1.5)  A:  Well, try this spray, what I got, this is the biggest they come.
B:  Oh..  .
A:  .  .  .  tittle make-up capsule.
B:  Oh, right, it's  like these inhalers, isn't  it?  ,
A:  And  I,  I've  found that not so  bad since I've  been using it, and it
doesn't make you so grumpy.
B: This is up your nose?
A:  Mm.
B:  Oh, wow!  It looks a bit sort  of  violent, doesn't  it?  It works well,
does it?
(Birmingham CoHcction of  English Text)
L.  Joncs:  Functions of Enghh, Cambridge University Press,  1981  ed.,  p. 22. 1.3  Speech acts and discourse
Our  immediate  reaction is that conversations  can often  begin with well, but
that  there  is something  odd  about  'try this spray  . .  .'. Suggesting  to
someone  'try X' usually only occurs  in respcmse to some remark or event or
perceived state of  affairs that warrants intervention, and such information
is lacking here. Equally, we interpret B's  final ranark, 'It works well, does
it?' as expecting a response from A.  In addition, we might say that we do
not expect people to leave the question of whether  something is a  fitting
solution to a problem  that has been raised dangling  in the air; this we shall
return to in section 1.10 when we look at written  text.
The difficulty is not only  the  attaching of sph-act-labcls  to utterances.
The main problem with making a neat analysis of extract (1.5) is that it is
clearly  the  'middle'  of  something, which makes  some katures difficult to
interpret. For instance, -why does A  say well at the beginning of  hislher
turn? What are  'these inhalers'? Are they inhalers on the table  in front of the
speakers,?or  ones we all know about  in the shops?  Why does A change from
talking about 'this spray'  to that in a short space of the dialogue?
The dialogue is structured in  the sense  that it can be coherently inter-
preted and seems  to be progressing somewhere, but we are  in the middle of
a structure  tather than witnessing the complete unfolding of the whole. It is
in  this  respect,  the  interest  in  whole discourse structures,  that discourse
analysis adds something extra  to the traditional concern with  functionsl
speech acts. Just what these larger structures might typically consist of must
be  the concern of  the rest  of  this chapter before we  address the detailed
questions of  the vahe of  discourse analysis  in language  teaching.
What clues are there in the  following extract which suggest that we  are
coming in  in the middle of  something? What other problems are there in
interpreting individual words?
A:  I mean, I don't like rhis new emblem at all.
B:  The logo.
A:  Yeah, the castle on  the Trent, it's  horrible.
C:  Did you get  a chance to talk to him?
A:  Yeah.
C:  How does he seem?
(Author's data 1989) I  What  is discourse analysis?
1.4  The scope of discourse analysis
Discourse analysis is not only concerned with the description and analysis
of  spoken interaction.  In  addition  to  all our verbal encounters we daily
consume  hundreds  of  written  and  printed  words:  newspaper  articles,
letters,  stories,  recipes,  instructions,  notices,  comics,  billboards,  leaflets
pushed  through  the  door,  and  so  on.  We  usually  expect them  to  be
coherent, meaningful communications in which the words and/or sentences
are  linked to one another  in  a fashion  that corresponds  to conventional
formulae,  just  as  we  do with  speech;  therefore discourse analysts  are
equally interested  in the organisation of  written interaction.  In  this book,
we shall use  the term discourse analysis to cover the study of  spoken and
written interaction. Our overall aim  is  to come to a much  better under-
standing of  exactly how  natural  spoken and written discourse looks and
sounds. This may well be different from what textbook writers and teach-
ers have assumed from their own intuition, which  is often burdened with
prejudgements deriving from  traditional grammar, vocabulary  and into-
nation teaching. With a more accurate picture of  natural discourse, we are
in  a better position  to evaluate the descriptions upon which we base our
teaching, the  teaching materials, what goes on  in  the classroom, and  the
end products  of  our teaching, whether in  the  form of  spoken or written
output.
1.5  Spoken discourse: models of analysis
One  influential approach to  the study of spoken discourse is  that developed
at the University of Birmingham, where research initially concerned itself
with  the structure  of  discourse  in  school classrooms (Sinclair and
Coulthard  1975). The Birmingham model  is certainly not  the only valid
approach to analysing discourse, but it is a relatively simple and powerful
model which  has connexions with  the study of  speech  acts such as were
discussed  in  section  1.3 but which,  at the same time,  tries to capture the
larger structures,  the  'wholes'  that we  talked  about in  the  same section.
Sinclair and Coulthard found in the language of  traditional native-speaker
school classrooms a rigid pattern, where teachers and pupils spoke accord-
ing to very fixed perceptions of  their roles and where  the talk could be seen
to  conform  to  highly  structured  sequences.  An  extract  from their  data
illustrates this:
(1.6)  (T  =  teacher, P  =  any pupil who speaks)
T:  Now then  . .  .  I've got some things here, too. Hands up. What's
that, what is it?
P:  Saw. 1.5  Spoken discourse: models of  analysis
T:  It's  a saw, yes this is a saw. What do we  do with a  saw?
P:  Cut wood.
T:  Yes. You're  shouting out though. What do we  do with a saw?
Marvelette.
P:  Cut wood.
T: We cut wood. And, erm, what do we  do with a hacksaw, this
hacksaw?
P:  Cut trees.
T:  Do we cut trees with this?
P:  No. No.
T:  Hands up. What do we do with this?
P:  Cut wood.
T:  Do we cut wood with this?
P:  No.
T:  What do we do with that then?
P:  Cut wood.
T: We cut wood with that. What do we do with that?
P:  Sir.
T:  Cleveland.
P:  Metal.
T:  We cut metal. Yes we cut metal. And, er, I've got this here.
What's  that? Trevor.
P:  An axe.
T: It's an axe yes. What do I cut with the axe?
P:  Wood, wood.
T:  Yes I cut wood with the axe. Right .  .  .  Now then, I've got some
more things here . . .  (etc.)
(Sinclair  and Coulthard 1975: 93-4)
This  is only a short extract, but nonetheless, a clear pattern seems  to emerge
(and one that many will be familiar with from their own schooldays). The
first thing we notice, intuitively, is that,  although this  is clearly part of  a
larger discourse (a 'lesson'),  in itself it seems to have a completeness. A bit
of business seems  to commence with the  teacher saying 'Now then . .  .', and
that same bit of business ends with the  teacher saying  'Right.  . .  Now then'.
The  teacher (in this case a man) in his planning and execution of  the lesson
decides that the lesson shall be marked out in some way; he does not just
run on without a pause from one part of  the lesson to another.  In  fact he
gives his pupils a clear signal of the beginning and end of this mini-phase of
the lesson by using the words now then and tight in a particular way (with
falling,intonation and a short pause afterwards) that make them into a sort
of  'frame'  on either side of the sequence  of  questions and answers. Framing
move  is precisely what Sinclair and Coulthard call the  funaion of  such
utterances. The  two framing moves, together with the question and answer
sequence  that falls between them, can be called a transaction, which again
captures the feeling of what is being done with language here, rather in  the 1  What is discourse analysis?
way  that we talk of  a  'transaction'  in a shop between a shopkeeper and a
customer, which will similarly be a completed whole, with a recognisable
start and finish. However, framing move and transaction are only labels  to
attach  to  certain  structural  features,  and  the  analogy with  their  non-
specialist meanings should not be taken too far.
This classroom extract  is very  structured  and  formal,  but transactions
with framing moves of this kind are common in a number of other settings
too: telephone calls are perhaps the most obvious, especially when we wish
to close  the  call  once the  necessary  business  is done;  a  job  interview  is
another situation where various phases of  the  interview are likely  to be
marked by  the chairperson  or main interviewer saying things like 'right',
'well  now'  or 'okay',  rather in the way the teacher does. Notice, too,  that
there is a  fairly limited number of words available  in English  for framing
transactions  (e.g.  right, okay,  so,  etc.),  and  notice  how  some people
habitually use the same ones.
Reader activity 3 d
1.  How many other situations  can you think of where framing moves are
commonly used  to divide up  the discourse, apart from classrooms,
telephone calls and job  interviews?
2.  Complete  the list of what you think the most common framing words
or phrases are in English and make a  list of  framing words  in any
other language you know. Do framing words translate directly from
language  to language?
3.  What is your favourite framing word or phrase when you are teach-
ing, or when you talk on the phone?
If  we return  to our piece of  classroom data,  the next problem  is:  does the
question-answer sequence between the teacher and pupils have any inter-
nal strumre, or is it just a string of  language forms to which we can give
individual function  or  speech-act  labels? Sinclair  and  Coulthard show
clearly that it does have a  structure. Looking at the extract, we can see a
pattern: (1)  the  teacher asks something ('What's  that?'), (2)  a pupil answers
('An axe') and (3)  the  teacher acknowledges  the answer and comments on  it
('It's  an axe, yes').  The pattern of  (I), (2)  and  (3)  is then repeated.  So we
could label the pattern in the following way:
,
1.  Ask  T
2.  Answer  P
3.  Comment  T 1  .S  Spoken discourse: models of analysis
This gives us then a regular sequence of TPT-TPT-TPT-TPT,  etc. So we
can now  return  to our extract and begin  to mark  off  the boundaries that
create this pattern:
T:  Now then .  .  .  I've got some  things.h  too. Hands up. What's
that, what is it?  I
P:  Saw. I
T:  It's a saw, yes this is a saw. N What do  with a saw?  1
P:  Cut wood. I
T:  Yes. You're shouting out though. I! QUltacd~  do  with a saw?
Marvelette. I
P:  Cut wood.  I
T:  We cut wood. 11 And, erm, what do we do with  .  .  .  etc.
We can now isolate a typical segment between double  slashes (11)  and use.it
as a bask unit in our description:
(1.8)  T:  /I What do we do with a saw? Marvelette. I
P:  Cut wood. I  '
T:  We  cut wood. 11
Sinclair and Coulthard call this unit an exchange.  This particular exchange
consists of a question, an answer and a comment, and so it is a three-part
exchange.  Each  of  the  parts are giveri  the  name move  by  Sinclair  and
Coulthard. Here are some other examples of  exchanges, each with three
moves:
(1-9)  A:  What time is it?
B:  Six thirty.
A:  Thanks.
A:  Tim's coming tomorrow.
B:  Oh yeah.
A:  Yes.
A:  Here, hold this.
B:  (takes the box)
A:  Thanks.
Each of these exchanges consists  of  three moves, but it  is only  in (1)  that the
first move ('What  time is it?')  seems to be functioning as a question. The
first move in (2)  is heard as  giving  information, and the first move in (3)  as a
command.  Equally,  the  second  moves  seem  to  have the function,
respectively, of  (1)  an answer, (2)  an acknowledgement  and (3)  a non-verbal
response  (taking  the  box).  The  third  moves  are  in  all three  exchanges
functioning  as  feedback  on  the  second move:  (1) to  be  polite  and  say
thanks,  (2)  to confirm  the information and (3)  ro say thanks again. In order
to capture the similarity of the pattern in each case, Sinclair and Coulthard 1  What is discourse analysis?
(1975: M7)  call  the  first move  in each exchange an opening move,  the
second an answering moue and  the third a follow-up moue.  Sinclair and
Brazil (1982:  49) prefer to talk of  initiation, response and follow-up. It does
not particularly matter for our purposes which set of  labels we use, but for
consistency, in this book the three moves will be called initiation, response
and follow-up. We can now label our example exchanges  using these terms:
Move  Exchange 1  Exchange 2  Exchange 3
--
Initiation  A:  What time  A:  Tim's coming  A:  Here, hold
is it?  tomorrow.  this.
Response  B:  Six-thirty.  B:  Oh yeah.  B:  (takes  the box)
Follow-up  A:  Thanks.  A:  Yes.  A:  Thanks.
In these  exchanges we  can observe the importance  of  each move in  the
overall functional unit. Every exchange has to be initiated, whether with a
statement, a question or a command; equally naturally, someone responds,
whether in words or action. The status of  the follow-up move is slightly
different:  in  the  classroom  it  fulfils  the  vital  role. of  telling  the  pupils
whether  they  have done what the teacher wanted them to;  in other situ-
ations  it may be an act of politeness, and the follow-up elements might even
be extended further, as in this Spanish example:
(1.12)  A:  Oiga, pot favor, ~qui  hora es?
B:  Las  cinco y media.
A:  Gracias.
B:  De nada.
Here A  asks B the time, B  replies ('half  past  five'), A  thanks B  ('gracias'),
and then B says 'de nada' ('not at all'). Many English speakers would feel
that such a lengthy ritual was unnecessary for such  a minor favour and
would omit  the  fourth  part,  reserving  phrases such  as  'not  at  all'  for
occasions where it is felt a great service has been done, for example where
someone has been helped out of  a difficult situation. The patterns of  such
exchanges may  vary  from culture to culture,  and  language learners may
have to adjust to differences. They also vary from setting to setting: when
we say  'thank  you'  to a ticket collector at a station barrier as our clipped
ticket is handed back to us, we would not (in British society) expect 'not at
all'  from  the  ticket collector  (see Aston  1988 for  examples of  how this
operates in Italian service encounters in bookshops).
In other cases, the utterance following a response may be less obviously a
follow-up and may seem to be just getting on with further conversational
business:
(1.13)  A:  Did you see Malcolm?
B:  Yes. 1.5  Spoken discourse: models of analysis
A:  What did he say about Brazil?
B:  Oh he said he's going next month.
A:  Did he mention the party?
B:  No.
A:  Funny .  .  .  (etc.)
Different situations will require different formulae, depending on roles and
settings. The  teacher's  role as evaluator, for example, makes the follow-up
move very important in classrooms; where the follow-up move is withheld,
the pupils are likely to suspect  that something is wrong,  that  they have not
given  the  answer  the teacher wants,  as in  our extract  from Sinclair and
Coulthard's  data:
(1.14)  T: What do we do with a hacksaw, this hacksaw?
P:  Cut trees.
T: Do we cut trees with this?
P:  No. No.
The pupils know that 'cut trees'  is not the right answer; it is only when one
pupil says 'metal'  that  the full follow-up occurs ('We  cut metal. Yes we cut
metal');  the question  'Do we cut  trees with  this!'  is  simply recycling  the
initiating move, giving the pupils a second chance.
1.  Can you put the moves of  this discourse  into an order that produces a
coherent conversation?  The  conversation takes place  at  a travel
agent's.  What clues do you  use  to establish the correct  order? Are
there any moves that are easier to place than others; and if  so, why?
'You  haven't  no, no.'
'No  . .  .  in LittIewoods is it!'
'I'm  awfully sorry, we haven't  .  . .  urn I don't know where you can
try for Bath actually.'
'Can  I help you?'
'Okay  thanks.'
'Yeah  they're inside there now.'
'Urn  have you by  any chance got anything on Bath!'
'Urn I don't  really know .  .  .  you could try perhaps Pickfords in
Littlewoods, they might be able to help you.'
(Birmingham Collection of English Text)
2.  Think of a typical encounter with a stranger in the street (e.g.  asking
the way, asking for change). What is the minimum number of moves
necessary to complete a polite exchange in a language that you know
other than English? 1  What  is discourse analysis?
The  three-part exchanges we  have looked  at  so  far  are  fascinating in
another sense, too, which relates back  to our discussion in section 1.3 on
speech am, in  that,  taken om of context and without  the third part,  it is
often impossible to decide  exactly  what  the  functions  of  the  individual
speech acts in  the exchange are in any completely meaningful way.  Con-
sider, for example:
(1.15)  A:  What time is it?
B: Five past six.
A:
What could fill the third part here? Here are some possibilities:
1.  A:  Thanks.
2.  A:  Good! Clever girl!
3.  A:  No  it  isn't,  and you  know  it  isn't; it's  half  past  and you're  late
again!
'Thanks'  suggests  that A's  question was a genuine request for information.
'Clever girl!'  smacks  of the classroom (e.g. a lesson on 'telling the  time' with
a big demonstration clock), and 'No it  isn't  .  . .  etc.'  suggests an accusation
or a verbal trap for someone who is to be  reproached. Neither of  the last
two is a genuine request for  information; teachers usually already know  the
answers to  the questions  they ask of their pupils and the reproachful parent
or employer  in  the  last case is not  ignorant of  the  time.  These examples
underline the fact that function  is arrived at with  reference to the partici-
pants,  roles  and  settings  in any discourse, and that  linguistic forms  are
interpreted in light  of  these.  This  is  not  to  say  that  all communication
between  teachers and pupils  is of  the curious kind  exemplified  in  (1.15);
sometimes  teachers ask  'real'  questions  ('How did  you spend  the
weekend!'),  but equally,  a  lot of  language teaching question-and-answer
sessions reflect  the  'unreal'  questions  of  Sinclair  and  Coulthard's  data
('What's  the past tense of  take?;  'What does wash basin mean!').  Nor do  we
wish to suggest  that 'unreal' classroom questions serve no purpose; they are
a  useful means for the teacher of  checking the state of  knowledge of  the
students and of providing opportunities for practising language forms. But
in evaluating the spoken output of  language classrooms we shall at least
want  to  decide whether there  is  a  proper equilibrium or an  imbalance
between 'real'  communication and 'teacher  talk'.  We would probably not
like to think  that our students spent all or most of  their time indulging in
the make-believe world of 'you-tell-me-things-I-alteady-know'. 1.6  Conversations outside the classroom
1.6  Conversations  outside ths  dassrom
So far we have looked at  talk in a rather restricted context: the traditional
classroom, where roles are rigidly defined and  the patterns of  initiation,
response and  follow-up in exchanges are relatively easy  to perceive,  and
where transactions  are heavily marked. The dassmm was a convenient
place to start, as Sinclair and Coulthard discmend,  but it is not the 'real'
world  of  conversation. It  is a peculiar place,  a placc  .where teachers ask
questions to which they already know the answkr$, where pupils  (at least
younger pupils) have very limited rights as speaker~and  where evaluation
by the teacher of what the pupils say is a vital mechanism in the discourse
structure. But using the classroom is most beneficial for QW  purposes since
one of the things a model for  the analysis  of classroom  talk enables us to do
is evaluate our own output as teachers and that of  our students. This we
shall return  to  in  Chapter  5.  For  the moment  it  is more  important  to
examine the claim that the exchange model might be useful for the analysis
of  talk outside the classroom. If  it is, then it could offer a yardstick for the
kind of  language aimed at in communicative language teaching and for all
aspects of  the complex chain of  materials, methodology, implementation
and evaluation, whatever our order of priority within that chain.
Conversations outside classroom settings vary  in  their degree of  struc-
turedness, but even so, conversations  that seem at first sight to be 'free'  and
unstructured can often be shown to have a structure; what will differ is the
kinds of  speech-act labels needed  to describe what is happening, and it is
mainly  in this area,  the  functions of  the parts of  individual moves,  that
discourse  analysts have found  it  necessary  to  expand and  modify  the
Sinclair-Coulthard model. Let us begin with a real example:
(1.16)  (Jozef (J) is a visiting scholar from Hungary at an English department
in a British university. He has established a fairly informal and
relaxed relationship with Chris (C),  a lecturer in the department. He
pops into Chris's room one morning.)
C:  Hello Jozef.
J:  Hello Chris .  .  .  could you do me a great favour.
C:  Yeah.
J:  I'm  going to book four cinema tickets on the phone and they
need a credit card number .  . .  could you give me your credit card
number . . .  they  only accept payment by  credit card over the
phone.
C:  Ah.
J:  I telephoned there and they said they wouldn't  do  any
reservations
C:  1  without a card.
J:  Yes  and I could pay you back  in cash.
C:  Yes .  .  .  sure .  . .  no problem at all.
J:  Yes I  What is discourse analysis?
C: Mm . .  .  I've got this one, which is an Access card.
J:  And I just  tell them your number.
C:  [ You tell them my number. . .  this one here.
J:  And they tell me how much.
C: That's right . . .  that's all  . . .  that's my name there and that
number.
J:  Yes .  . .  and I can settle it.
C:  Yes and bring it back when you're done.
J:  Yeah  .  . .  1'11  just  telephone then.
C:  Right .  . .  okay.
j:  Thanks Chris.
C:  Cheers.
(Jozef leaves the room.)
(Author's data 1988)
This is not like the classroom. Jozef  and Chris are more or less equals in
this  piece  of  interaction, therefore each wiH  enjoy the right  to  initiate,
respond and follow up in their exchanges. It is not merely a question-and-
answer session; sometimes  they inform each other and acknowledge infor-
mation.  But  their talk is  not  disorganised;  there  are  patterns  we  can
observe.  The  sequence begins  and  ends  with framing  mechanisms  not
entirely unlike the 'right'  and 'now then'  of  the classroom: after the initial
greeting, Jozef pauses and his voice moves to a higher pitch:
could you do me . . .  (etc.)
(1.17)  J:  Hel.10 Chris . .  .  t
We shall return  in greater detail to this use of pitch in Chapter 4. For the
moment it is sufficient  to record it as a signal of a boundary  in the talk, in
this case marking off  the opening from  the main  business of  the conver-
sation. Starting the main business, Jozef then begins a long sequence, all of
which  is  concerned with eliciting a favour from Chris.  He  does  not
immediately ask his  question  but  in  his  initiating move gives  the back-
ground to it first ('I'm  going  to  book four.  .  .  etc.').  This  speech act we shall
call a starter, after which comes  the main part of  the elicitation ('could you
give me  . . .  etc.').  Jozef  expands  his elicitation with  several  comments
('they only accept payment.  .  .  etc.'), during which he is  supported by a sort
of grunt from Chris ('ah')  and an occasion where Chris completes Jozefs
words for him, as if he has predicted what Jozef wanted  to say ('without a
card'). Jozef s long elicitation ends with 'and  I could pay you back in cash'.
Chris then  responds "Yes  sure .  .  .  etc.')  and Jozef  follows up with  'yes'.
The  fact  that  Jozef  says so much  in asking  the  favour is because he  is
potentially inconveniencing Chris, and he thus has to prepare the ground
carefully; this relationship between what is said and factors such as polite-
ness and sensitivity to the other person is taken up in section 5.2.
So,  complex though  it  is,  we  have initiation-response-follow-up 1.6  Conversations outside the classroom
sequences here  that  form meaningful exchanges  just  like  the  classroom
ones. What we have here, which we would not expect  in the classroom, are
Chris's verbal supports; we should be very surprised to hear in a classroom
of  young children:
(1.18)  T: Now .  .  .  :[ have some things here.
Ps (in chorus): Oh yes  .  .  .  ah-ha.
T:  Used for cutting things.
Ps:  Oh, really?
But we can pare Jozef and Chris's  exchange down  to ia.bst"esc  .
(1.19)  J:  // Could you give me your credit card number and I'B  pay  you in
cash. /
C:  Yes sure no problem. /
J:  Yes. /I
It now begins to look a  little more manageable, and  in  it we can see the
difference in complexity between a simple speech act and elaborated ones
of  the kind demanded by politeness, which can be difficult for the learner
with limited linguistic resources in an L2. We can also see the difference
between  bare exchanges of  the kind often  found in coursebooks and the
way,  in  natural  discourse,  that  speakers  support  and  complete  one
another's  moves, how they follow up and acknowledge replies, and other
features  that we have not yet discussed. It is in this way, by using descriptive
categories such  as the exchange  and  its sub-components,  that  discourse
analysis enables us to describe actual performances, to  delimit targets more
accurately in language teaching  and  to evaluate  input and output  in  the
teaching/learning process.
This extract also serves as a reminder of  the form and function problem
raised in section 1.2. Some  of Jozef s declarative forms are  heard by Chris as
questions requiring a confirmation (or  correction if  necessary):
(1.20)  J:  And  l just  tell them your number.
C  :  [  You tell them my number . . .  this one here.
J:  And they tell me how much.
C: That's right . .  .  that's all .  . .  (etc.)
They are heard as questions since Chris is the person with the knowledge
that Jozef  is seeking to have confirmed  (at  least Jozef  assumes that he is).
Chris will not suppose  that  Jozef  is  telling him something he (Chris) already
knows, and so will assume he is being asked to confirm.
Equally, we can observe the same kinds of  exchange boundaries occur-
ring in the middle of  speaker turns as we did in the classroom data:
(1-21)  J:  // And they tell me how much. /
C:  That's right .  . .  that's all  .  . .  that's my name there and that
number. /
J:  Yes I/  . .  .  and I can settle it. / 1  What ?s discourse analysis?
C:  Yes  and bring it .back when you're  done. /
J:  Yeah // .  .  .  I'll  just telephone then.
The double slashes in  Jozefs turns come after the follow-ups to Chris's
answers and  before new  initiating moves.  The conversation  finally  ends
with a framing move  similar  to  the  teacher's  ('right  .  .  . okay'), and  an
expression of  thanks.
Obviously there are numerous other features in  the conversation (into-
nation, gesture, etc.) which make us more confident in our analysis, and we
shall  return  to the most central of  these later, but  this short conversation
should  at least serve to illustrate  that even apparently  loosely structured
talk adheres  to norms and is regularly patterned. It is this type of patterning
that  can  be  as useful  to  the  language teacher  as  the  regular patterns  of
syntax are in clauses and sentences.
So  far we  have looked  only  at one model  for  the  analysis of  spoken
interaction, the Sinclair-Coulthard 'Birmingham'  model. We have argued
that it is useful for describing talk  in and out of  the classroom; it captures
patterns  that  reflect  the  basic  functions of  interaction  and  offers a hier-
archical model where smaller units can be seen to combine to form larger
ones and where the large units can be seen to consist of these smaller ones.
The bare bones of  the hierarchy (or  rank scale)  can be expressed as  follows:
TRANSACTION
t
EXCHANGE
t
MOVE
2
ACT
The lowest rank  is what we have referred to as 'speech  acts';  Sinclair and
Coulthard  simply  call them acts,  but for our general purposes, any  fine
distinction  the  terminology might  suggest  is  unimportant.  Sinclair  and
Coulthard's model is very useful for analysing  patterns of  interaction where
talk  is  relatively tightly structured,  such as between doctors and patients
(see Coulthard and Ashby 1975), but all sorts of  complications arise when
we  try  to  apply  the model  to  talk in more informal, casual,  and  spon-
taneous contexts.
Because  of  the  rigid  conventions  of  situations  such  as teacher talk  and
doctor-patient talk, it  is  relatively easy  to predict who will speak when,
who will ask and who will answer, who will interrupt, who will open and
close  the talk, and so on. But where talk is more casual, and among equals, 1.7  Talk as a social activity
everyone  will  have  a  part  to  play  in  conuolhg  and monitoring  the
discourse, and the picture will look considerably more complicated.
Consider the problems which  arise when we try twk&-&se  rhe following
extract  from  the point of view of exchange  a&an&m-hdaries.  Are
there straightforward initiating, responding and foilmap  Decide
where each move begins and ends and try  to  la  be1  some  o#  tbc  lsomabvious
speech  am (e.g.  elzcit~ttiom,  replies,  comments  and  so w). There  are
complications  here,  not  least  because  there  are more  than  twu people
talking. Do you feel this extract is more or less tightly structured than the
classroom talk or the conversation between  Jozef and Chris? What extra
problems does this sort of  transcript raise for discourse analysts?
(1.2)  (University  lecturer (L)  at a student bar where he has just ordered
drinks for a group of students (Sl, S2, etc.). The barman  (B)  is
attending to the order and the group are standing at  the bar.)
L:  Well, that should blow a hole in five pounds, shouldn't  it?
S1:  It's  quite cheap actually.
L:  (laughs)
S1:  What's  the urn lecturers' club  like, senior, senior, you know.
L:  L  Ah  it's  very cosy and
sedate and, er, you know, nice little armchairs and curtains .  .  .
there are some interesting characters who get there.
S2:  Is that the one where they have the toilets marked with er
gentlemen, no,  'ladies  and members'?
L:  loh,  oh,
S2:  Yeah it was one
of the other lecturers who pointed  it out, he  ought it was quite
amusing.
L:  Yeah, I hadn't
noticed that, yeah, might well be, yeah.
B:  Four sixty-seven please.
r
L:  Is that all, God,  I thought it would cost more than that (pays)
.  .  .  thank you  .  . .  I thought it would cost more than that.
S1:  It's quite cheap.
S2:  I wouldn't argue with  that one.
~3:  I  NO, it's  quite good.
L:  Now, how are we going to carry all these over?
(Author's data 1989) 1  What is discourse'analysis?
There  are features  which  can  be  handled  by  the ' Sinclair-Coulthard
exchange structure model  (the lecturer's  'now'  at the end  seems  to be  a
typical boundary marker, and his laugh at the beginning of  the talk could
be  seen  as  a follow-up  to  the  student's  remark),  but there  are  many
complications. The student who asks about  the toilets does not get a proper
answer from the lecturer, and,  if anything, answers her own question; the
barman comes in and disrupts the continuity of  the talk, and, at one point,
three  people  are  talking  at once.  If  this were  a classroom, many  would
consider that the lecturer had lost all control over the discourse, and  that
people were behaving 'out of  turn'.
Complications of  this kind  have led many discourse analysts to devote
their  attention  more  to  observing how people  behave  and  how  they
cooperate in  the management of  discourse, rather  than  to a concern with
building elaborate models of  structure  (see Levinson 1983: 286). Observ-
ing  conversational behaviour  close  to  has  been  the  preoccupation  of  a
school of  analysts roughly grouped under  the name ethnomethodologists,
though sociologists, anthropologists  and  psychologists have also made
significant contributions.  This approach has been  largely, but not exclus-
ively,  an  American  phenomenon,  and  it  has  concentrated  on  areas  of
interest such as how pairs of utterances relate to one another (the study of
adjacency pairs), how turn-taking is managed, how conversational open-
ings  and  closings  are  effected,  how topics  enter  and  disappear  from
conversation,  and  how speakers engage  in  strategic  acts  of  politeness,
face-preservation, and  so on.  The emphasis  is always on  real  data, and
observing how people orient to  the demands of  the speech event. We shall
look more closely at this kind of conversational analysis in Chapter 5, but
the  student-lecturer  data  extract  above exemplifies some of  the ways  in
which data can be dealt with.
Because the lecturer and his group are not in the classroom, students, as
well as lecturer, feel free to raise new  topics. S1 asks about the staff club,
but he is hesitant, and stutters somewhat in his question; such hesitancy is a
significant detail, and is a typical signal of deference. The lecturer feels free
to  overlap with  his  answer  before  the student  has  finished  speaking.
 urn-takbg  rights are exercised, with people taking turns at  talk when they
feel  they  have  the  right  to  say  something. For example,  the  barman
considers his right  to continue the purchasing transaction  to override the
group's conversation,  and  the three  students all  feel  they have  an  equal
right  to comment on the  lecturer's  remark  about the price of  the drinks.
However, we might also observe  that the talk is all directed at  the lecturer,
rather  than  student  to  student.  Is  this  because  the  lecturer  is  seen  as
'dominant speaker', a hangover from the classroom, which the group have
only recently  left?  It  is to answer such questions that ethnomethodologists
examine large amounts of  data  to observe regular patterns of  behaviour
that might  indicate adherence to underlying norms  or  'rules'  of  conver- 1.8  Written  discourse
sation. In Chapter 5  we shall look at some of their findings concerning the
issues our extract has raised, as well as others of a similar type. This is not
to  say  that  such findings must  automatically  have  any  implications  for
language teaching, but some of  them may.
With written  texts,  some of  the problems  adad  wi&  spoken tran-
scripts are absent: we do not have to contend with people( all speaking  at
once, the writer has usually had time  to  think about what to say and how to
say it, and  the sentences are usually well formed in a way  that  the utterances
of natural, spontaneous talk are not. But the overall questions remain the
same: what norms or  rules do  people adhere  to when creating written texts?
Are texts structured according to recurring principles, is there a hierarchy
of  units comparable to acts, moves and exchanges, and are there conven-
tional ways of opening and closing texts? As with spoken discourse, if we
do find such regularities, and  if  they can be shown as elements that have
different realisations in different languages,  or  that  they may  present
problems for learners in other ways, then the insights of written discourse
analysis might be applicable, in specifiable ways, to languagk teaching.
In Chapter 2, we shall consider some grammatical regularities observable
in  well-formed  written texts,  and  how  the  structuring of  sentences has
implications for units such as paragraphs, and for the progression of whole
texts. We shall also look at how the grammar of English ofkrs a limited set
of options for creating surface links between the clauses and sentences of a
text, otherwise known as cohesion. Basically, most texts display links from
sentence to sentence  in terms of grammatical features such as pronominali-
sation,  ellipsis (the omission of  otherwise expected elements because they
are  retrievable  from  the  previous  text  or  context) and  conjunction  of
various kinds  (see Halliday and Hasan  1976). The resources available for
grammatical cohesion can be listed finitely and compared across languages
for  translatability  and  distribution  in real texts.  Texts  displaying  such
cohesive features are easy to find, such as this one on telephones:
(1.23)  If  you'd  like to give someone a phone for Christmas, there are plenty
to choose from. Whichever you go for, if it's  to be used on the BT
[British Telecom] network, make sure it's approved -  look  for the
label with a green circle to confirm this. Phones labelled with a red
triangle are prohibited.
(Which?  December 1989:  599)
The italicised items are all  interpretable in relation  to  items in previous
sentences. Plenty  is assumed  to mean 'plenty  of phones';  you in the first and
second sentence are interpreted as the same 'you*; whichever is interpreted I  What  is discourse amlysis?
as 'whichever telephone';  it is understood as  the telephone, and this as 'the
fact that it is approved'.  These are features of  grammatical cohesion, but
there are  lexical clues too:  go  for  is  a  synonym of  choose, and  there  is
lexical repetition of phone,  and of  label.
Reader  activity 6  d
Pick  out  the  cohesive items between  clauses and  sentences  in  this  text
extract in the same way as was done for the telephone text:
(1.24)  British men are a pretty traditional bunch, when  it comes  to shaving;
two out of  three use a blade and soap, rather than an electric shaver.
Which?  readers  are more continental in their tastes; around half of
you use an electric shaver, about the same proportion as in the rest of
Europe.
For women, shaving is by far the most popular method of
removing body hait. 85 per cent of the Which?  women readers who
removed body hair told us that they used a shaver.
(Which?  December 1989: 613)
Notice that, when  talking of  cohesion in the telephone text, we spoke of
interpreting items and understanding them. This is important because the
cohesive items are clues or signals as to how the text should be read, they
are not  absolutes. The pronoun  it  only gives  us  the  information  that  a
non-human entity is being referred to; it does not necessarily tell us which
one. It  could potentially have referred to Christmas in the phone text, but
that would have produced an incoherent reading of  the text. So cohesion is
only a guide  to coherence, and coherence is something created by the reader
in  the act of  reading  the text. Coherence is the feeling that  a  text hangs
together,  that  it makes  sense,  and is not  just  a  jumble  of  sentences  (see
Neubauer  1983: 7). The sentences 'Clare  loves potatoes.  She was born  in
Ireland.'  are  cohesive  (Clarelshe),  but  are  only  coherent,  if  one  already
shares the stereotype ethnic  association  between being Irish  and  loving
potatoes, or is prepared to assume a caus~ffect  relationship between the
two sentences. So  cohesion is only pan of coherence in reading and writing,
and indeed in spoken language too, for the same processes operate there.
1.9  Text and Interpretation
Markers  of  various kinds,  i.e.  the linguistic signals of  semantic and dis-
course functions (e.g.  in English the  on the verb is a marker of pastness),
are very much concerned with the surface of  the text. Cohesive markers are
26 1.9  Text ad  interpretation
no exception:  they  create links across sentence boundaries and pair  and
chain together items that are related  (e.g.  by  daring  to the same entity).
But  reading a text is far more complex than that:  we haveto interpret the
ties and make sense of  them. Making sense of  a =-is  m  act of interpreta-
tion that depends  as much on what we as mad-trs'brhgtr,raext  as what the
author puts into it. Interpretation  can be seen asp  set  of pmeddures and the
approach  to  the  analysis  of  texts  that mph~5ises  the-mental activities
involved  in  interpretation can  be  broadly  cdM-  wdi  W.ocdural
approaches  emphasise the role of  the trader in arrialy bddierht  world
of  the text, based on hislhet experience of  the wdd  aild how  stares and
events  are  characteristically  manifested  in it. The  reader hwxu adarm  such
knowledge, make inf&ences and coiist~n-hidhe  intapretation in
the light of  the situation and  the aims and goals of-&  texr as the reader
perceives them. The work of  De Beaugrande and Dressler (1981)  is central
to this approach. If we rake a text which  is cohesive in the sense described
above, we can see that a lot more mental work has to  go on for  the reader to
make it coherent:
The parents  of a seven-year-dd Australian boy
(l.Zo
woke m  find a giant python crushing and trying
to  swallow him.
The incident occurred  ia Cairns,  Queengland
and  the boy's mother, Mrs Kathy Dryden said:
'It was like a horror movie. It was  a hot night
and Bartholomew was lying  under a mosquito
net. He suddenly started  screaming.
'We rushed to the bedroom  to find a huge
snake trying  to strangle him. It was coiled
around his arms  and neck and was going down
his body.'
Mrs Dryden and  bet  husband, Peter, tried to
stab the creature with knives but the python bit
the boy  several times before escaping.
(from The Birmingham Post, 12 March 1987, p. 10)
This text  requires us  to activate our knowledge of  pythons as dangerous
creatures which may  threaten human  life, which strangle their prey and to
whose presence one must react with a certain urgency. More than this we
make  the cognitive  link between 'a  hot night' and the time of the event (this
is implicit  rather than explicit in  the text). The boy's  screaming must  be
taken to be a consequence of  the python attacking him  (rather than, say,
prior  to the arrival of  the python). The 'creature'  must be  taken to be  the
python rather than the boy  (which 'creature' could well refer to in another
bcxt), since parents  do  not normally stab  their children  in order  to save  their
livcs. All this is what the reader must bring to any text. What we are doing
in making these cognitive links in the text is going further than just  noting
cht  semantic  links between cohesive items  (e.g.  creature =  general  super-
ordinate,  snake =  genuslsuperordinate,  python  =  specieslhypon  y m); we are 1  What  is discourse analysis?
creating coherence  (see  De Beaugrande  and Dressler 1981: 6-12,3147).  The
various procedures that mediate between cohesion and coherence will  be
returned to in greater detail in sections 6.4-7,  as this area of  text analysis  is
obviously crucial in any discourse-based approach to reading and writing.
Another level of  interpretation which we are involved  in as we process
texts is  that of recognising textual pattern. Certain patterns in text reoccur
time and  time again and become deeply ingrained as part of  our cultural
knowledge. These patterns are manifested in regularly occurring functional
relationships between bits of  the text. These bits may be phrases, clauses,
sentences or groups of sentences; we shall  refer to  them as  textual segments
to  avoid confusion with grammatical elements  and  syntactic relations
within clauses  and  sentences.  A  segment may  sometimes  be a  clause,
sometimes a sentence, sometimes a whole paragraph; what is important is
that segments can be  isolated using a set of  labels covering a finite set of
functional relations  that  can occur  between  any  two  bits  of  text.  An
example  of  segments coinciding with  sentences  are  these  two  sentences
from a report on a photographic exhibition:
(1.26)  The stress is on documentary and rightly so. Arty photographs are a
bore.
(The Guardian,  27 October 1988: 24)
The interpretation  that makes most sense is that the relationship between
the second sentence  and the first  is that the second provides a reason for  the
first. The  two segments are  therefore in a phenomenonleason relationship
with one another. An  example of  a segment consisting of more than  one
sentence can be seen in extract (l.27), where the relationship between the
first segment (sentence  1)  and the second segment (sentences 2-5)  is one of
pbenomenonbxample; all of  sentences 2-5  have to be  read as part of  the
act of  exemplification  for the text to make sense.
1.27)  Naturally, the more people pay for their houses, the more they want
to rename their neighbourhoods. Suppose you've just coughed up
£250,000 for an unspectacular house on the fringe of Highgate  -  an
area with loads of cachet. The estate agent tells you it's Highgate.
You've paid a Highgate price. There's no way you're going to admit
that it's in Crouch End.
(Simon Hoggart,  The Observn Magazine, 11 March 1990: 5)
The interpretation of  relations between textual segments is a cognitive act
on the part of  the reader, who might be supposed to be asking questions of
the text as  it unfolds, such as (for extract 1.26) 'The  stress is on documen-
tary; why?' In this sense,  reading  the text is like a dialogue with the author,
and  the  processing  of  two  segments could  be  seen  as analogous  to  the
creation of  an exchange in spoken discourse. Whether this dialogue with
the author  is a reality or  an analytical construct is not a question that can be
easily answered here, but a model which suggests this kind of  interaction 1.9  Text and intetpretation
between  reader  and  text  or  author might  be  able  to capture difficulties
readers experience in text processing and offer ways of  attacking them.
The  approach  to  text analysis  that  emphasises  the  interpretive acts
involved in relating  textual segments one  to the other  through relationships
such as phenoneno~reason,  causeconsequence, instmmmt-achievement
and suchlike is a clause-relational approach, and is-best  exemplified in the
work of Winter  (1977, 1978) and Hoey  (1983). The pbmmenon-reason
relation  which  united  the two  sentences  of  extraa  (1.261,  along  with
cause-consequmce and instrument-achievement,  can be brought under the
general heading of  logical sequence relations. When segments of  a tat  are
compared or contrasted with one another,  then we may talk of matching
relations,  which  are also  extremely  common.  Logical  seqaettcing  and
matching are the two  basic  categories of  the clause-relational approach.
This view of  text is dynamic;  it  is not  just concerned with labelling what are
sometimes called  the  illocutionary  acts (a  bit like  speech  acts)  which
individual  clauses, sentences  and paragraphs  perform  in  a  text, but  is
concerned with  the relationships the textual segments enter into with one
another.
It would  of  course be wrong  to suggest that  all texts are like  the  two
sentences from the photo exhibition text and  that the whole operation of
reading was some sort of  perverse guessing-game where authors made life
difficult for readers. Texts often contain strong clues or signals as to how
we should interpret the relations between segments; these are not absolutely
deterministic  .but  are  supporting  evidence  to  the  cognitive  activity  of
dedwing the relations. For example, we may find  in a text a sentence such
as:  'f;eling  ill, he  went  home',  and  here we  would  note  that  the sub-
ordination of one  element  to another by the grammatical choloc-eftoining  a
main  clause  to  a  subordinate  one  is  a characteristic  device  of  cause-
consequence relations; it is a signal of the likely relation, which would have
to be reinterpreted if  the sentence were 'Going home, he felt ill'. Equally, an
author might help us with a conjunction: 'Because he felt  ill, he went home',
or else use  items of  general vocabulary  to signal the same relation: 'The
reason he went home was  that he was feeling ill'.  Other  types of  signals
include repetition and syntactic parallelism (using  the same syntax in two
or more different clauses  to draw attention to a comparison or contrast, for
example). In the sentence 'The politicians were in a huff, the industrialists
were in a rage, the workers were in the mood for a fight',  the parallelism of
the  'subject +  be +  prepositional phrase' underlines  the  comparison
between  the three groups of people. The clause-relational approach takes
all this evidence into account in its analyses. 1  What  is discourse analysis?
Here are some extracts  from real texts. Decide what kind of relation exists
between  segments  separated  by  a  slash  (1)  in  each  case,  and note  any
supporting  evidence such as syntactic parallelism.
1.  The BBC has put off a new corporate advertising  campaign due to be
aired this month, extolling the virtues and values of  both television
and radio. / A BBC  spokesman delicately suggests that this may not
be the most appropriate time to be  telling the audience how
wonderful the Beeb  is.
(The Obsc~ver,  16 November 1986: 42)
2.  In Britain, the power of  the unions added an extra dread, 1 which
made British politics a special case; 1  on the Continent, Margaret
Thatcher was regarded as something  of a laboratory experiment,
rather like a canary put down a mine-shaft to see  if  it will sing,
(The  Sundrty Times Magazine, 30 December 1979: 14)
The  clause-relational approach  to  text  also  concerns  itself  with  larger
patterns which regularly occur in texts. If we consider a simple  text like the
following, which  is  concocted  for the sake of  illustration, we  can see  a
pattern emerging which is found in hundreds of  texts in a wide variety of
subject areas and contexts:
(1.28)  Most people like to take a camera with them when they travel
abroad. But all airports nowadays have X-ray security screening and
X rays can damage film. One solution to this problem is to purchase
a specially designed lead-lined pouch. These are cheap and can
protect film from all but the strongest X rays.
The first sentence presents us with a situation and the second sentence with
some  sort  of  complication or  problem,  The  third  sentence describes  a
response  to the problem and the final sentence gives a positive evaluation  of
the  response.  Such  a  sequence  of  relations forms a  problem-solution
pattern,  and  problem-solution patterns  are extremely common  in  texts.
Hoey  (1983) analyses  such  texts  in  great detail, as well  as  some  other
common text patterns, some of which we shall rmrn  to in Chapter 6.
These larger patterns which may  be  found  in  texts  (and indeed which
may  constitute  the whole  text) are the objects of  interpretation by  the I.  1  Larger patterns  in text
reader,  just  as the smaller clause-relation were,  and in the same way,  are
often signalled by the same sorts of grammatical andlexical devices such as
subordination and parallelism. In our concoctd*~k  instance, we have
a  conjunction  (but)  indicating an  adversative ddmi  backward  lexical
reference  to  'this problem' (damage caused.  by X  rays)-land a  forward
reference  to  the  solution  (lead-lined puck), Jk& readm and writers
need to be aware  of  these signalling  devicesand  to  be  able  to use  them when
necessary to process textual relations that are notyi-diately  obvious and
to compose text  that  assists  the  reaaer  in  the qct of  irttvxprctatiop. The
larger  patterns  such  as  the  problem-solution  pam  odklly
ingrained,  but  they  are often  realised  in  a  sequence of  t@  mgmmts
which  is  not  so  strarghtforward  as  our  concocted  text  suggests,  The
sequence situation-problem-response-evaluation  may  be  varied, but we
do normally expect all the elements to be  present  in  a well-formed text;
where the sequence  is varied, signalling plays an even more important part
in signposting  the text, that is, showing the reader a way round it.
Reader  activity 8 dl
Identify the elements  of  the problemsolution pattern in these extracts  from
advertisements and note any signalling devices.
I.  DAMP WALLS,  FIAKING PAINT,
RrmNGWAUPAPE&MUSrYSMaLS
:  Rising Damp
Rising  damp, if  not treated  effectlwly  could  in  time  cause extensive  damage  to  the
rrbucture of your home, ruin  decoration  and  fumfture. Damp also  causes repugnant
mould  and mildewy  smells and could be  a hazard  to health.
Doulton Wallguard guarantee
cure rlslng  damp
Doulton,  ~  international
specialists  in  ceramic technology haw
developed a unique  ceramic  tube
that when installed  In  walls draws
moisture  out and ensures it  stays
out  for good. This  tried and  tested
process  requires no structural  work
and  is  usually  installed  in  just one  day.
Guaranteed  for 30  Years 1  What is discourse analysis?
In~jyoathaeira
pbcaoararon  brown w N.V.H. It
~far~vibntiond~
You can easily tell how badly your
car suffers from N.V.H.  by the volume
at which you have  to play your radii
and the way that you feel  after a  long
journey. It's very tiring.
The  rudimentary cure  is to fill  the
car with sound deadening material.
Everybody  does  this to some  extent,
even Ford.
But we believe  that prevention  is
better than cure.  After all, with the
technology  that we have at  our  disposal,
there are more scientific  ways of
reducing N  .V. H.
At  the  Ford  design  and  development
centre we have a room which is known
as  the  anechoic chamber. It's here, on
the  rolling  road, that our  acoustics
engineers explore new techniques in
sound proofing.
The  result is a car  that never  feels
as  if it's uying. Even at Autobahn  speeds,
with the  smooth V6  engine and all
round  independent  suspension,  the
performance  is effortless.
(from The Sunday Times Magazine, 30 December 1979, pp. 42,49)
We have seen in this chapter that discourse analysis is a vast subject area
within  linguistics,  encompassing as  it  does  the analysis  of  spoken  and
written language over  and above concerns  such  as  the structure of  the
clause or sentence. In this brief  introduction we have looked at just  some
ways  of  analysing  speech  and  writing  and  just  some aspects  of  those
particular models we have chosen  to highlight. There  is of course a lot more
to  look  at.  For  example, we have  not  considered  the  big  question  of
discourse in its social setting. In subsequent chapters we shall return to this
and  mention  the  Hallidayan  model  of  language  as  social action  (see
Halliday 1978),  looking at  types of meaning in discourse and their relation-
ship with the notion of  register, the  linguistic features of the  text that reflect
the social context  in which it  is produced. This and further discussion of  the
approaches outlined here will form the background to  a reassessment of the
basics  of  language teaching  as  they  are  conventionally understood: the
levels of  language description (grammar,  lexis  and  phonology)  and the
skills of  language use (reading, writing, listening and speaking). There will
also be suggestions concerning teaching materials and procedures whenever
it seems that discourse analysis has some direct bearing on these matters. 1.1  1  Concfusion
Furfher reading
Coulthard (1985)  is an indispensable introduction to  discourse  analysis, as  is Stubbs
(1983).
Brown  and Yule (1983) is  a thorough  and detailed survey, but is harder  going
because of  its less obvious structure.
Van Dijk's  (1985)  collection of papers covers a vast ran-gc of ateas within discourse
analysis;  the  introduction  sets  the  scene,  and  the papcat  lcna  be dipped  into
according to area of  interest.
Levinson  (1983), although concerned with  the broader  fidd af  'ptagmaacs', pro-
vides a balanced criticism of the British, exchange-stnmure school  as  against  the
American conversation analysis.
G. Cook  (1989)  is a more recent book at an introductory  level.
For the original Birmingham discourse model, Sinclair and Coulthard (1W.5)  is still
unsurpassed,  though extensions and modifications  as described  in  Coulthard
and Montgomery (1981)  and Sinclair  and Brazil (1982)  should also be consulted.
Further extensions and modifications are to be found in Carter and Burton (1982),
Francis and Hunston (1987), and, specificaliy on the follow-up move, Hewings
(1  987).
More introductory  reading  on acts and communicative functions, as well  as on
speech and writing may be found in Riley (1985).
Schenkein (1978)  is a seminal collection of American conversational analysis.
On written text, Halliday and Hasan (1976)  is essential for the notion of  cohesion,
De Beaugrande and Dressler  (1981),  though difficult in places,  expands on the
procedural approach, while Winter (1977  and 1978)  and Hoey (1983)  are  the best
works for the clause-relational model.
Hewings and McCarthy  (1988)  offer a summary of  the clause-relational approach
with some pedagogical applications.
Halliday (1978)  contains much discussion on language in its social setting.
Widdowson  (1979)' De Beaugrande (1980),  Van Dijk (1980), Neubauer (1983)  and
Tannen (1984)  are all useful sources on cohesion/coherence.
Reddick (1986)  argues for the importance of personal interpretation in the analysis
of  text structure. 2  Dircourse  ana4ysis and grammar
'All  right, so far,' said the King;
and he went on muttering over
the  verses  to  himself.  "'We
know  it to  be true"  -  that's the
jury, of  course -  "If she should
push the matter on" -  that must
be  the  Queen  - "What would
become  of  you?"  - What,
indeed?'
Lewis Carroll:  Alke's  Admniwes
in W&dd
21  Introduction
In  this chapter we shall start on familiar ground. Much of  the discussion
will  use  terms  that  are common  in  language  teaching: clause,  pronoun,
adverbial, conjunction, and so on, and we shall be using them in  familiar
ways. But we shall attempt to relate them to a probably less familiar set of
terms:  theme, rbeme, reference,  anaphoric and so on, in order to make the
fink between grammar and discourse. Nothing we shall say will undermine
the  importance  of  grammar  in language  teaching;  on  the contrary,  this
chapter takes as a basic premise that without a command of  the rich and
variable resources of  the grammar offered by  a language such as English,
the construction of  natural and sophisticated discourse is  impossible. But
we  shall be arguing  that  structuring  the  individual utterance, clause and
sentence,  structuring  the  larger  units  of  discourse  and  creating  textual
coherence  are ultimately inseparable. We shall be  looking at what discourse
analysts can tell us about contextualised uses of structures and grammatical
items, and considering whether earnmar  teaching needs to broaden or  shift
its orientations to cover signijitcant areas at present under-represented in
grammar  teaching. We  begin  by  looking  at grammatical cohesion,  the
surface marking of  semantic links between clauses and sentences in written
discourse, and between utterances and turns in speech. 2.2  Grammakmmakcul  cohesion and textuality
2.2  Ommatical cohwion and  textuam
Spoken  and written discourses display gramma&d  cornexions  between
individual  clauses  and  utterances.  For  our  purposes,  these  grammatical
links can  ,be classified under  three broad  typ  7-  (or co-reference;
see Brown and Yule 1983: 192),  elfipsislsubstihthq llad  conjunction.
2.2.1  Reference
3.
Reference items  in English  include pronouns  (e.g:  h@~,k~:&-%h,  they,
etc.), demonstratives (this,  that,  these, those), the article tha,-d  {igms like
such a. A complete list is given in Halliday and Hasan (1976: 37-9).
The opening lines of  a  famous English  novel,  ]ude  the Obscure,  by
Thomas Hardy,  show different types of  reference at work:
(2-1)  The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed
sorry. The miller at ~resscombe  lent him the small white tilted cart
and horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about
twenty miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the
departing teacher's effects.
The  italicised items  refer. For the  text to  be coherent, we assume  that him in
'lent him the small white tilted cart'  is the schoolmaster introduced earlier;
likewise, his destination is  the schoolmaster's. Referents for him and his can
be confirmed by looking back in the text; this is called anaphoric reference.
Such a also links back to  the cart in the previous sentence. The novel opens
with  the  schoolmaster  leaving  the  village.  Which  schoolmaster? Which
village? On the previous page of  the novel,  the two words At Marygreen
stand alone, so we reasonably assume that Marygreen is the name of  the
village, and that the character is (or  has been) schoolmaster of  that village.
We are using more than just  the text here to establish referents; the author
expects us to share a world with him independent of  the text, with typical
villages and their populations (everybody), their schoolmasters and millers.
References to assumed,  shared worlds  outside of  the text  are exophoric
references. Because they  are not text-internal,  they are not truly cohesive,
but  because  they  are  an  equally  important  part  of  the  readerllistener's
active role in creating  coherence, they  will  be  included in  our  general
discussion  of factors which contribute  to  'textuality',  that is, the feeling  that
something is a text, and not just  a random collection of  sentences.
Now consider this example of  reference with the pronoun they:
e-2)  They pressed round him in ragged fashion to take their money.
Andy, Dave, Phil, Stephen, Bob.
(Graham Swift, The Sweet Shop Owner, Penguin Books Limited, 1983: 13)
In this  particular  text, neither anaphoric nor exophoric reference supplies
the  identity of  they; we have to read on, and are given their identities in the 2  Discourse analysis and grammar
second sentence. Where referents are withheld  in  this way, we can talk of
cataphoric  reference.  This  is a  classic device  for  engaging  the  reader's
attention;  referents can be withheld for quite long stretches of  text.
LOOKING  BACKWARD: ANAPHORIC  REFERENCE
Exercises which  involve looking back  in texts  to find  the referent of,  for
example, a pronoun, have long been common in first and second language
teaching and testing. Usually items such as helshe or them can be decoded
without  major  difficulty;  other  items  such  as  it  and  this  may be  more
troublesome because of  their ability to refer to longer stretches of  text and
diffuse propositions not necessarily paraphrasable by any direct quotation
from  the  text.  Problems can  also  arise where  lower-level  learners are  so
engaged in decoding the individual utterance, clause or sentence that they
lose'sight of  the links back  to earlier ones. But evidence of local difficulties
hindering global  processing  at  given  points  in  the  unfolding discourse
should not automatically be read as inherent difficulties with processing at
the discourse  level. Only if  intervention at  the  local level fails  to  solve larger
processing problems might we begin to consider intervention in the form of
training 'discourse skills' to build up the sort of  pragmatic awareness as to
how references are decoded, which must, after all, be the basis of effective
readingllistening in the learner's  first language too. Nonetheless, there will
always be cases where first language skills are lacking or undeveloped, and
teachers may find  themselves having to intervene to make up  such short-
comings.  That,  however,  is  a problem  area  beyond  the purview  of  this
book.
Grammar  teachers have long been aware  of  recurring interference factors
with pronouns and reference, such as the Japanese tendency to confuse he
and she, the Spanish  tendency to confuse his and your, and so on, and there
is not much discourse analysts can say to ease those evergreen problems.
What can be (and  often is not)  directly  taught about a system such as  that of
English is the different ways of  referring to the discourse itself  by  use of
items such  as  it, this  and  that,  which  do not  seem  to  translate  in  a
one-to-one way  to other  languages, even where  these are closely cognate
(cf. German, French, Spanish). Some examples of how reference items  refer
to  segments  of  discourse follow  in  (2.35);  the  first  is  one  given  by
Halliday and Hasan  (1976: 52):
(2.3)  It  rained day and night for two weeks. The basement flooded and
everything was under water. It spoilt all our calculations.
Here it seems to mean  'the events of  two weeks',  or 'the fact that it rained
and flooded',  that is, the situation as a whole rather than any one specified
entity in that situation. 2.2  Grammatical cohesion and  textualit))
Reader activity 1 d
What does it refer to  in these short extracts: a noun pkqse in the text, or a
situation?
1.  A pioneering 'school-based management'  proEpdrar  in Miami-Dade
County's 260 schools has also put some budget, ah@  and personnel
decisions  in the hands of  local councils, composed Iawy  af  teachers.
'It's  a recognition that our voices and input are important,' says
junior highschool teacher Ann Colman.
(Newsweek, 17 October  1988:  23)
2.  Like the idea of deterring burglars with-a  big, ferocious hound -  but
can't  stand dogs? For around £45 you can buy an automatic dog
barking unit -  Guard God,  or the Boston Bulldog, both available by
mail order from catalogues  like the ones you're  sent with credit card
statements. You plug it in near the front door and its built-in
microphone detects sharp noises.
(Which?  October  1988:  485)
Matters  become  more complicated  when  we  look  at  this  and  that  in
1SCOUrse:  d  '
(2.4)  You may prefer to vent your tumble dryer permanently through a
non-opcning window. This isn't  quite as neat, since the flexible hose
remains visible, but it does save knocking a hole in the wall.
(Which?  October  1988:  502)
(2.5)  Only a handful of satellite  orbits are known to be changing. Such
changes are usually subtle and can be detected only by  long-term
observations. One exception is the orbit of Neptune's  large moon
Triton, which is shrinking quite rapidly. That is because it circles
Neptune in the direction opposite  to the planet's  revolution,
generating strong gravitational friction.
(~cw  Scientist, 23 January 1986:  33)
These are written examples, but speech abounds in the same choices of  it,
this and that. Surprisingly, conventional grammars do not give satisfactory
descriptions  of  such usage  (e.g.  see Quirk  et al.  1985:  868).  Discourse
analysts have touched upon the area  (see Thavenius 1983: 167-9),  and the
insights of different analysts have a certain amount in common.
It is herpful, for a start, to return to the notion of  discourse segments as
functional units,  rather than  concentrating  on  sentences  (or turns in 2  Discourse analysis and grammur
speech), and to see the writerlspeaker as faced with a number of  strategic
choices as to how  to relate segments to one another and how  to present
them to the receiver. A simple example is Linde's  (1979)  investigations  into
how people reacted when asked to describe their apartments. She observed
that there were simificant differences in  the distribution of  it and  that in
people's  descriptions. One room  or area was always a  current  'focus  of
attention',  i.e. was the entity being talked about, the topic of any particular
moment;  pronominal  references  to  the  focus  of  attention  were  almost
always made with it, while references across different focuses of  attention
used  that:
(2.6)  And the living room was a very small room with two windows that
wculdn't open and things like that. And  it looked nice. It had a
beautiful brick wall.
(2.7)  You entered into a tiny little hallway and the kitchen was off that.
Extract  (2.6) is all within  one focus of  attention  (the living room), while
(2.7) refers across from one focus (the kitchen) to another (the hallway).
This is not to say Linde's  conclusions solve the whole of  the discourse
reference problem;  it is simply to make  the point  that many unanswered
grammatical questions can be resolved at  the discourse  level, and that much
good discourse analysis  recognises  the links between discourse organisation
and grammatical  choice. As  such, discourse-level investigations are often
invaluable reading  for  teachers looking  for  answers  to  grammatical
problems.
An example of an error in discourse reference from a non-native speaker
may help us to resolve the still unconcluded issue of  it, this and that. The
writer  is  giving  a  chapter-bychapter  summary  of  his  university disser-
tation, starting with the introduction:
(2.8)  Introduction: It traces the developments  in dialectology in recent
years.
(Author's data 1989)
English  here  demands 'This  traces  .  .  .' or  the  full  noun  phrase  The
introduction repeated. Neither it nor that will do. It seems that it can only
be used when an entity has already been marked as the focus of  attention,
usualiy by using a deictic word (such as a, the, or my, or thislthat), so that
versions such as (2.9-11) are acceptable:
(2.9)  The introduction is lengthy:  it covers 56 pages.
(2.10)  'This  introduction  is fine. It  is brief and precise.
(2.11)  My introduction was too short. It had to be rewritten.
We can now conclude  that it  cannot be used to refer back to an entity unless
it is already the focus of  attention, but  this,  as in the corrected version of 2.2  Grammatical cohesion and textuality
(2.8),  can make an entity  into the focus of  attention and create new foci
of  attention as the discourse progresses.  That,  as in Linde's  explanation,
can be used  to refer across foci of  attention, and, as  is suggested by  (2.5),
can  push  a  proposition  out of  central focus and maanalise  it  in  some
way.
The  discussion  of  this  one  question  of  discourse r&erice  has  been
lengthy in order to exemplify the type of  approach d-i-~cmae  analysts take
to grammar, in  that  they  look  for patterned  recurrences axass different
data and try  to relate the separate levels of analysis in a rncaninbful way.
Individual grammatical choices are seen  as significant in  the mging and
organisation of the discourse as a whole, and not just as local problems to
be resolved within the bounds of the capital letter and the full stop. And the
same approach is valid not only for questions of  reference, as we shall see
when we look at word order and tense and aspect choices.
Collect some examples of  it, this and that used as discourse reference  items
after  the fashion of  the examples discussed  in  this section (any English-
language newspaper should provide plenty of data). Do they fit the general
conclusion  drawn  above  as  to  their  usage  in  discourse? If  not, try  to
'rewrite'  the rule.
LOOKlNG  OUTWARD:  EXOPHORfC  REFERENCE
We have mentioned  the possibility  of  referring 'outward' from  texts  to
identify  the  referents  of  reference  items  when  backward  or  anaphoric
reference does  not  supply  the  necessary  information.  Outward,  or exo-
phoric  reference  often directs us  to  the  immediate context,  as  when
someone says  'leave it on  the  table please' about a parcel you have for  them.
Sometimes, the referent is not in the immediate context but is assumed by
the speakerlwriter  to be part of a  shared world, either in  terms of  know-
ledge or experience. In English the determiners often act in this way:
(2,12)  The  government are to blame for ilnernployment.
(2.13)  She was using one of those strimmars to get rid of  the weeds.
It would  be odd if  someone  replied  to  (2.12) with  the  question  'Which
government!'.  It is assumed by the speaker  that  the hearer will know which
one, usually 'wr  government' or  'that of  the country we are  in / are  talking
about'.  Tbe same sort of exophoric reference is seen in phrases such as the
Queen,  the Pope, the army, and in  sentences such as 'We  always take the 2  Discourse analysis and grammar
car since we can just put the kids, the dog and the luggage  into it.'  A learner
whose Ll has no exact equivalent  to English  the may need  to have this
central use of  the article taught explicitly. On the other hand, speakers of
languages with extended use of definite articles to cover general nouns  in
situations where these would not be marked  as definite in English  some-
times produce utterances which,  to  the English  ear,  seem  to  be making
exophoric reference, such as 'Do you like the folk music?' when no music is
to be heard  (cf. 'Do you like folk music?').
Exophoric  reference (especially  in  the  press)  is  often  to  a 'world  of
discourse'  connected with  the discourse of  the moment, but  not directly.
British  popular  newspaper headlines sometimes make  references such  as
'That dress. Queen scolds Princess Di'.  Here the reader is assumed to have
followed certain stories in the press, and the reference is like a long-range
anaphoric one,  to a text separated  in  time  and  space from  the present.
Native speakers often  have difficulties with such  references even  if  they
have only been away from the papers and radio or television for a week or
two; the foreign learner may experience  even greater disorientation.
An example of a text referring  to  such an assumed shared world is extract
(2.14), which  talks  of  'the entire  privatisation  programme';  readers  are
assumed  to know that  this refers to  the British government's  sell-off in 1989
of  the'entire public water service  into private hands:
(2.14)  Eighty per cent of Britain's sewage works are breaking pollution
laws, according  to a report to be published this week.
The cost of fulfilling a government promise to clean them up.  will
run into billions, and put the entire privatisation programme at risk.
(The Observer, 4 December 1988: 3)
Exophoric  references will  often  be  to a world  shared  by  sender  and
receiver  of  the  linguistic message,  regardless of  cultural  background,  but
equally often, references will be culture-bound and outside  the experiences
of  the language learner (e.g. British references to the City, the Chancellor,
and so on). In  these cases the learner will need  to consult some source of
encyclopaedic information  or ask an  informant.  This aspect of  language
learning  is  a  gradual  familiarisation with  the cultural context  of  L2.
Language teachers and materials writers will need to monitor the degree of
cultural exophoric references  in texts chosen for  teaching to ensure that the
referential burden is not too great.
Reader actii  3 d
Find  exophoric references in  the  following extract and consider whether
they are likely to create cultural difficulties for a learner of  English. 2.2  Grammatical cohesion and textuality
King  trial  jury
adjourns with
Tn"'  in  the  trial of three
peopleaccusedaf~onsphingto
murder  the  Northern  Ireland
!kcretiuy,  Mr  Tom King, adjomed
last  night  after more  than  seven
hours' deIibemtion.
They  spent the  night  within
Weter  crown  court  buiklhgs,
where the  trial is taking place.  Five
hours  after they retired  to consider
their  verdict,  the  judge  recalled
them to answer a question  they had
put to him in a note.
That  question  was  "Can  we
convict  if  we  think  the!  infomation
d&& ~'w~palpoaes,
ordoesthe.oric~w$de~hineto
be m&?  "
ThejudgemidEbCrerrrrBsdto
prove  an  agreement to mmkr so
that the  jury  was sm.  It mas-&&
sufficient to prove it as H  powM&y
or probability, but it must be proved
beyond reasonable doubt.
(from The Guardian, 27 October 1988, p.  20)
Exophoric  reference  directs  the  receiver  'out  of  the  text  and  into  an
assumed shared world. This idea of a shared world overlaps with the idea
of  a shared world built up by sender and receiver as any discourse unfolds,
and for  this reason,  some  linguists see no  real distinction  between  ana-
phoric and exophoric reference (e.g. Brown and Yule 1983: 201),  since both
proceed on the basis of an assumption by the sender that the receiver is, at
any point  in  time,  availed of  all the knowledge necessary  to decode any
reference items. But for practical purposes the distinction may be a useful
one to retain as it enables us  to evaluate to  hat extent any discourse is
self-contained, supplying its  referents  inte  J  ally,  or  to  what  extent  it
depends heavily on external, culture-specific realworld referents.
LOOKING  FORWARD: CATAPHORIC REFERENCE
Consider these opening lines of a news article:
(2.15)  She claims Leo  Tolstoy as a distant cousin. Her grandfather was
Alexei Tolstoy -  the famous 'Red Count' who sided with Lenin's
revolutionaries.  Now, Tatyana Tolstaya has put pen to paper,  in her
case to demonstrate that someone from the family can write
compactly. In her stories of  ten to twelve typewritten pages,  'I 2  Discourse analysis and grammar
somehow try to show the whole life of  a person  from birth to death,'
she says.
(Newsweek,  21 September 1987: 12)
We do  not establish who she  is until the second sentence. Forward-looking
or cataphoric  reference of  this kind often  involves pronouns  but  it  can
involve other reference items too, such as the definite article:
(2.16)  The trip would hardly have been noteworthy, except for the man
who made it.  In mid-July a powerful American financier flew to
Mexico City for a series of  talks with high-level government officials,
including President Miguel de la Madrid and his finance minister,
Gustavo Petricioli.
(Newsweek,  21 September 1987: 44)
Both  examples of  cataphoric  reference were  found  in  the  same  issue of
Newsweek, which underlines  the most characteristic function of cataphoric
reference: to  engage and hold the reader's attention with a 'read on and find
out'  message. In  news  stories  and  in literature, examples of  cataphoric
reference are often found in the opening sentences of  the text.
Reader activity  4 d
Identify the cataphoric reference item and its referent in this extract:
It has often been compared to New Orleans's Mardi Gras as an
outdoor celebration. Certainly New York's Mulberry Street and
surrounding blocks have been as crowded over the last few days as
Royal and Bourbon Streets  in the French Quarter are for the Mardi
Gras. More than three million people arc estimated to have
celebrated the 61st annual Feast of the San Gennaro down in
Greenwich Village since it began on Thursday.
(The  Guardian,  15 September 1987: 23)
Cataphoric reference is the reverse of  anaphoric reference and is relatively
straightforward, but language learners may lack awareness  or  confidence  to
put it into  use  in  constructing texts,  and  nay need  to  have  the  feature
explicitly taught or exercised. There is, too, the danger of  its overuse or its
use in unnatural contexts. As always, it is a question of  training the learner
to observe features of  language above sentence  level where these might not
necessarily  be  automatically transferred from  L1, especially since,  in
English, reference often  involves  the definite article  and  demonstratives,
which do not translate easily into many other languages. 2.2  Grammatical cohesion and  textuality
2.2.2  Ellipsis and substitution
Ellipsis  is  the  omission  of  elements normally  required by  the  grammar
which  the  speakerlwriter  assumes  are  obvious  from the  context and
therefore need not be raised. This  is not to say kt.wery  utterance which is
not fully explicit  is elliptical; most messagb req$&  some input from the
context  to make sense of  them. Ellipsis is di&lrgtlishe$  by  the  structure
having some 'missing'  element. If  two people have ta stack adlabel  a pile
of  items and one says to the other 'you  label and I'll  d,-ifPe  fact that
label and stack are usually transitive verbsrequiring.anobject  in thesurface
structure is suspended because  the context  'supplies'  the &jixt.  hother
way of  saying  this is, of course, that structures are only fully redlid when
they need  to be,  and that ellipsis  is a speaker choice made on a pragmatic
assessment of  the situation;not  a compulsory feature when two clauses are
joined  together.
We  shall  concentrate here  on  the  type  of  ellipsis where  the  'missing'
element  is retrievable verbatim from  the surrounding  text, rather in the way
that  anaphoric  and  cataphoric  references  are,  as  opposed  to  exophoric
references. For example:
(2.17)  The children will carry the small boxes, the adults the large ones.
where 'will  carry'  is supplied from the first clause to the second. This  type
of main-verb ellipsis is anaphoric;  in English we would not expect:
(2.18)  *The  children the small boxes, the adults will carry the large ones.
though some kind of  analogous structure does seem possible  in  Japanese
(see Hinds  1982:  19 and 48). Ellipsis as a notion is probably a universal
feature  of  languages, but  the  grammatical  options  which realise  it  in
discourse may vary markedly. For instance, English does have the kind of
cataphoric  ellipsis suggested by  our  rejected  example  (2.18),  but  usually
only in front-placed subordinate clauses (see Quirk et al. 1985: 895):
(L  19)  If you could, I'd  like you to be back here at five thirty.
English has broadly three types of ellipsis: nominal, verbal and clausal.
Nominal ellipsis often involves omission of  a noun headword:
-1  Nelly liked the green tiles; myself I preferred the blue.
The Romance and Germanic languages have this kind of  nominal ellipsis
and  it should not present great difficulties to speakers of  those languages
hing  English.
Ellipsis within  the verbal group may cause greater problems. Two very
-on  types  of  verbal-group ellipsis  are what Thomas  (1987)  calls
doing and  auxiliary contrasting. Echoing repeats  an  element  from the
dl  group: 2  Discourse analysis and grammar
(2.21)  A:  WiN anyone be waiting?
B:  Jim will, I  should think.
Contrasting is when the auxiliary changes:
(2.22)  A:  Has  she remarried?
B:  No, but she will one day, I'm  sure.
Thomas also makes the point that in English, varying degrees of ellipsis are
possible within the same verbal group:
These variants are not directly  translatable  to other languages and will have
to be learnt.
With  clausal  ellipsis  in English,  individual clause elements  may  be
omitted;  especially  common  are  subject-pronoun omissions  ('doesn't
matter', 'hope  so',  'sorry, can't help you',  etc.). Whole stretches of clausal
components may also be omitted:
(2.23)  A:  Should any one have been told?
(2.24)  He said he would take early retirement as soon as he could and he
has.
B:  John
For this type of sentence, many languages will require at  the very least some
kind  of  substitute for  the main verb  and  an object  pronoun  such  as  to
produce a  form  roughly equivalent  to  'He said  he  would  take  early
retirement as soon as he could and he has done it.'
Ellipsis not only creates difficulties  in learning what structural omissions
are permissible, but also does not seem to be readily used even by proficient
learners  in  situations where native speakers naturally  resort  to  it  (see
Scarcella and Brunak 1981).
should.
should have.
should have been.
Reader  activity 5  d
Identify examples of  ellipsis in these extracts:
1.  Most students start each term with an award cheque. But by  the time
accommodation and food are paid for, books are bought,  trips taken
home and a bit of social life lived, it usually looks pretty emaciated.
(Advertisement  for Barclays Bank,  University of Birmingham Bulletin, 5 December
1988: 5)
2.  'You  like watching children .  . .  ?'  her tone seemed  to say: 'You're
like a child yourself.'
'Yes.  Don't  you?' His cheek was full of cheese sandwich. She 2.2  Grammutical cohesion and textuality
didn't  answer; only looked at the swings with anxiety.
'I  sometimes wish,' he said, trying hard to  empty his mouth, 'I
could join  in myself.'
'But you wouldn't?
'Why not?
He saw the sudden challenge in her eyes. And was that a smile
somewhere in that held-aloft face?
'Well, if you feel that way  .  .  .  ?'
'  -  why don't you?'
'Why don't  I?'
(Graham Swift, The Sweet Shop Ownn, Penguin Books  Limited, 1986: 27)
Other  aspects of  ellipsis that are difficult  for  learners occur  in  the  area
where ellipsis overlaps with what  is often treated under  the grammar of
coordination  (e.g.  'goats'  milk  and  (goats')  cheese',  'he  fired  and  (he)
missed  the target',  etc.). Once again,  specific ruies of  realisation may not
overlap between languages.
Substitution is similar to ellipsis, in that, in English, it operates either at
nominal, verbal or clausal level. The  items commonly used for substitution
in English are:
One(s):  I offered him a seat. He said he didn't want one.
Do:  Did Mary take that letter? She might have done.
Solnot:  Do you need a lift?  If so, wait for me; if  not, I'll  see you there.
Same:  She chose the roast duck; I chose tJhe  same.
Most learners practise  and  drill  these  items in  sentence-level  grammar
exercises. They are not easily and directly translatable to other languages.
Many common, everyday substitutions tend to be learnt idiomatically (e.g.
responses such as  'I  thinkhope so'). While  it  is easy to  formulate basic rules
for substitution,  at more advanced levels of  usage,  subtleties emerge that
may be  more  difficult  to  explain  and  present.  For  example, there  are
restrictions on reduced forms which might otherwise cause stress  to fall on
the substitute do, which is normally never prominent when it stands alone,
as opposed to auxiliary do in ellipsis, which can be stressed (e.g.  'Did  you
win?' 'Yes,  I DID!'):
(2.29  A: Will you unlock the gate?
B:  I HAVE done already.
* I've  DONE already.
Where the speaker does wish to give prominence to the substitute do, then
so is used as well:
I went to lock the gate. When 1 got there, I  found somebody had
already DONE  so. 2  Discourse analysis and grammar
Our  examples  of  ellipsis  and substitution have  included  a  number  of
spoken exchanges. This is because ellipsis and substitution assume a  lot
from the context;  they proceed  on the basis that omitted and substituted
elements are easily  recoverable, and are therefore natural  in  speech  situ-
ations where  a high  degree of  contextual support  is available. We  shall
return  to  them briefly  in  section 5.9,  when  we  discuss what constitutes
natural speech.
It is sometimes difficult to separate the various types of  cohesion, and it
may  seem questionable at times why  linguists separate such words as the
pronoun  it  and the substitute one.  There are reasons for  such  categori-
sations: for example, substitutes  can be modified ('a red one',  'the one  in the
corner')  and as such are true substitution, while pronouns, unable to be
modified in this way,  (* 'a  red it',  * 'the it in the corner') co-refer but do not
really substitute  for noun phrases. However,  in  language teaching,  there
may be good reasons  to bring different categories together, for instance, to
contrast backward  reference  to an indefinite antecedent ('Do  you  need  'a
pencil? Yes,  I need one.')  with reference to a definite antecedent ('Do you
need  the pencil? Yes,  I need  it.').
Reader actii  6 d
The sentence below occurred in a letter of  reference for someone applying
for a  job;  written  by  a non-native speaker. What mistake has  the writer
made,  and what explanation might a  language teacher offer  to help  the
writer avoid the error in future?
If you require further information on the applicant, I would be
pleased to do so.
(Author's data 1989)
2.2.3  Conjunction
We  include  conjunction  here  in  our  discussion  of  grammatical  contri-
butions to textuality even though it is somewhat different from reference,
ellipsis and substitution. A conjunction does not set off a search backward
or forward for its referent, but it does presuppose a textual sequence, and
signals a relationship between segments of  the discourse.
Discourse analysts  ask the same sorts of questions about conjunctions as
they do about other grammatical items: what  roles do  they play in creating
discourse,  do  the  categories  and  realisations  differ  from language  to 2.2  Grammatical cohesion and textuality
language, how are they distributed in speech and writing, what resttictions
on  their  use  are  there which  are not  reftected purely  through  sentence
analysis, and what features of  their use are  inadequately explicated in con-
ventional grammars?
In  fact it is not at all easy  to list definitively all &cCitems  that perform
the  conjunctive  role  in  English.  Single-word  c~ns  merge  into
phrasal and  clausal ones,  and  there is ob  little &&me  heen  the
linking of  two clauses by  a single-word conjuncticq,sif  pW  one, or a
lexical item somewhere else in the clause, a factwinter rf19n)  h-as  pointed
out.  For  example,  (2.27-30)  signal  the  causecansrpw relation  in-
several ways:
(2.27)  He was insensitive  to the group's  needs. Consequently  there-was  a lot
of bad feeling.  (single word conjunction)
(2.28)  He was insensitive  to the group's  needs. As  a consequence  there was
a lot of bad feeling.  (adverbial phrase as conjunction)
(2.29)  As a consequence of  his insensitivity  to the group's  needs,  there was a
lot of bad feeling.  (adverbial phrase plus nominalisation)
(2.30)  The bad feeling was a consequence of his insensitivity  to the group's
needs.  (lexical item within the predicate of the clause)
There are clearly differences in the way  the speakerlwriter has decided to
package  the information  here.  Note how  (2.29)  and  (2.30)  enable the
information  to be presented as one sentence, and how  (2.30) enables the
front-placing of  'bad  feeling',  a  feahlre we  shall return  to  in section 2.3
below. A rrue discourse grammar would examine the options  for using 'X  is
a consequence of  Y',  as opposed  to 'Y occurred;  as a  consequence,  X
occurred'. We would almost certainly find ourselves in the realm of  infor-
mation structure and the speakerlwriter's assessment of what needed to be
brought into focus at what point, and so on  (see the discussion of  theme
and rheme below).
Halliday (1985: 302-9)  offers a scheme for the classification of  conjunc-
tive relations and  includes phrasal types as well  as single-word everyday
items such as and, but, or, etc. Here is a simplified list based on Halliday's
thtee  category headings of  elaboration, extension and enhancement:
Type  Sub-types  Examples
daboration  apposition  in other words
clarification  or rather
ertcnsion  addition  andlbut
variation  alternatively
&cement  spatio-temporal  therelpreviously
causal-condi  tionat  consequentlylin  that case 2  Discourse analysis and grammar
The  full list  appears  in Halliday  (1985:  306), and  contains  over forty
conjunctive  items; even that is not exhaustive. So  the task for the language
teacher  is  not  a  small  one. However, when  we  look  at  natural data,
especially spoken, we see that a few conjunctions (and, but, so, and then)
are overwhelmingly  frequent. We can  also observe  the wide use of  and,
where  the  readerllistener  can  supply additive, adversative, causal  and
temporal meanings, depending on contextual information, as in  (2.31-34):
(2.31) She's  intelligent. And she's very reliable.  (additive)
(2.32)  I've lived here ten years and I've never heard of  that pub.
(adversative: but could substitute)
(2.33)  He fell in the river and caught a chill.  (causal)
(2.34)  I got up and made my  breakfast.  (temporal  sequence)
Equally, the possible choices of  conjunction will often overlap in meaning,
with little overall difference:
Look  at  the  text  on  the opposite  page  and  find  conjunctions linking
sentences  to one another. Using the simplified categorisation below, based
on Halliday  and  Hasan-  (1976), can you  say  what  type  of  conjunctive
relation is being signalled in each case?
(2.35)  A:  What about this meeting then?
Categories:
B:  I may go,
1.  Additive  (e.g.  and, in addition)
2.  Adversative (e.g. but, however)
3.  Causal (e.g.  because, consequently)
4.  Temporal (e.g.  tben, subsequently)
and
or
but
though
then
I may  not;  it all depends. 22  Grammatical cohesion and  textuality
Wind  wer. Wave power.  Solar
power. 9"  ida~  power.
Whilst  their use will increase  they
are unlikely to be  able to provide
large amounts of economic  elec-
tricity.  Generally,  the  cost  of har-
nessing  their  wer is huge.
Howwer, ~r  ere is a more practi-
cal, reliable and economical way of
ensuring  electricity  for  the future.
And  that  is  through  nuclear
energy.
It's  not  a  new  idea,  of course.
We've been  using  nuclear electricity
for  the  last 30 years.
In  fie  it  now  accounts  for
around 20%  of Britain's  electticity
production.  And  it's  one  of  the
cheapest  and  safi ways to  pro-
duce electridty we  know  for  the
hture.
What's  more,  dd  nrp  lies  of
unnium ue  arcirmtedtoR  for
hundreds of years, wMch will give
us  more  than  e~~lgh  time to
develop  alternatives  ifwe netd  to.
So, while some people m@t not
care about  their children's future.
We  do.
(Advertisement for British Nuclear Forum from The Guardian, 7 October  1988,
P.  17)
When we  look at a lot of  natural spoken data, we find the basic conjunc-
tions and,  but,  so and  then much  in  evidence, and  used  not  just  to  link
individual utterances within turns,  but  often  at  the  beginning  of  turns,
linking one speaker's  turn with  another speaker's,  or linking back  to an
earlier  turn  of  the  current  speaker,  or  else marking a  shift  in topic  or
sub-topic (often with but). In this sense, the conjunctions are better thought
of as discourse markers, in that they organise and 'manage'  quite extended
stretches of discourse.
An interesting example of differences  in data comes  from Hilsdon (1988).
She  compared spoken discourse of  adult  native speakers, young native
speakers and Zambian young adult learners of English, and  found in her
Zambian subjects almost a complete absence of  the use of and and but in
the  characteristic ways we  have  just  described  that  native speakers use
them. The  reasons for  the absence of this otherwise very common feature of
spoken discourse in her Zambian data may be cultural, Hilsdon suggests.
Because  is  very  frequent  in  spoken  English,  not  just  to  express  the
causeeffect relationship, but also  to express  the reason relationship and as
a speech-act marker signalling a 'this is why I am  saying  this' function, as  in
remarks such as  'this one's  better quality, because we'll  have  to get one  that
will last', where  the quality of the item being discussed  is not an  effect of  the
speaker's  need  to buy  durable goods,  but  is  simply  a  justification  for
making the remark. Firth  (1988) made a study of  the distribution of  such
'reason'  markers in  the speech of  a mixed native and non-native speaker
group. He found that the non-native speakers exclusively used because to
signal  the reason/justification  relation, while the native speakers varied the 2  Discourse  analysis and grammar
signal, using because,  'cos,  like and see, as  in this extract from a conver-
sation about smoking  in public places:
36)  A:  Once you start infringing upon the benefits of the  other people,  that's
when your personal right is lost . . .  just  like, y'know,  you have
rights but yet y'know  you can't kill anybody .  .  .  6e-e  obviously
it's  infringing upon somebody else's  rights . . .  you don't need a
majority for something  to go wrong, you only need a small minority
. . .  see, that's where I mean that's  just  not right .  .  .  'cos smoke  just
fills the room.
(Firth 1988)
Differences in performance data of  these kinds are often the reason why
even quite advanced-learner output can seem  unnatural. One of  the major
contributions of  discourse analysis has been  to emphasise the analysis of
real data, and the significance in communicative  terms of  small words such
as common everyday markers. In previous linguistic  approaches  these were
too often dismissed as unimportant  features of  'performance'  which dis-
tracted from the business of describing underlying 'competence'.
t
ReoderoctMty8 d
Consider  the following conversational extract from the point of view of the
use of common, everyday conjunctions. What roles do  they play in organis-
ing-and managing the discourse?
(A and B have been  recounting a series of  stories  to C about getting
lost while driving.)
A:  And another time, I forget where the village was, but there was a
sharp turn at  the end of  this village, and we says to him 'You  turn
left here',  so he turned left, into a school yard.
8:  Up a road into a school yard  .  .  .  they were all following me.
A:  [ it wasn't  so bad that, but hey
all followed behind us you see.
B:  Them that were behind me followed me.
C:  Yeah.
B:  See  I should have gone on another  twenty yards.
A:  [ But it was getting back
into the traffic stream  that was the difficulty.
B:  I should have gone a few yards further on and then turned left.
C:  Aye, aye.
B:  There's a T-road.
A:  Oh.
B:  And you see with them saying 'turn  left'.
C:  Yeah (laughs).
(Author's data 1989) 2.3  Theme ad  rheme
In  this  section we  have  considered devices under a  general heading  of
grammatical cohesion  and  textuality.  Other grammatical choices  at  the
clause level have implications for the organisation of the overall discourse,
not least the ordering of elements  in clauses and  sentences,  and it is to this
we now turn.
2.3  Theme and rhemtr
Most  learners, when  learning the grammar of  a  foreign language,  spend-
time assimilating  the  structure of  clauses  in  that  language,  i.c.  where
subjects, objects and adverbiab are placed in relation to  the verb, and what
options are available for rearranging  the most typical sequences. Discourse
analysts  are  interested  in  the  implications  of  these  different  structural
options for the creation of  text, and, as always, it is from the examination
of  natural data that patterns  of  use are  seen  to  emerge. Some  of  the
structural options frequently found in natural data are ignored or under-
played in language teaching (especially  those found in spoken data, which
are often  dismissed  as degraded  or bad  'style'),  probably  owing  to  the
continued dominance of  standards  taken from  the written  code.  If  the
desire  is to be  faithful  to data, grammar  teaching may have  to  reorient some
of  its structural descriptions, while others already dealt with in  sentence-
level  exercises may  be  adequately  covered in  traditional  teaching  and
simply adjusted to discourse-oriented approaches.
English is what is often called an 'SVO'  language, in that the declarative
clause requires a verb at  its centre, a subject before it and any object  after  it.
This is simply a  labelling device which enables comparisons to be made
with declarative realisations in difkrent languages, some of which will be
'VSO'  or 'SOV'  languages. This pattern is often recast in English, not least
in  interrogative structures, where  the verbal group is split by  the subject
('Does she like cats!'),  and in cases where the object is brought forward:
(2.37)  The Guardian,  Joyce  reads.  OSV  Object-fronted
There are  in English a variety of ways in which the basic clause elements  of
subject, uerb, compl-tlobject,  adverbial can be rearranged  by  putting
different elements at  the beginning of the clause, as illustrated in  (2.37) to
(2.42). These ways of  bringing different elements to the front are called
fronting devices.
(2.38)  Sometimes Joyce  reads The Guclrdian.
ASVO  Aduerbial-fronted
(2.39)  It's The Ghrdian Joyce reads.
It +  be + C/O  +  SV  It-them, or cleft (The  Guardian here seems  to
operate simultaneously  as complement of  is and as object of  reds) 2  Discourse analysis and grammar
(2.4)  What Joyce reads is The Guardian.
Wh- +  SV  + be + C/O  Wh-pseudo-cleft
(2.41)  She reads The Guardian,  Joyce.  ,
S(pronoun) VOS(noun)  Right-displaced subject
(2.42) Joyce, she reads The Guardian.
S(noun) S(pronoun)  VO  LRft-displaced subject
Structures  such as (2.41) and (2.42) are far from infrequent in spoken data,
but are often, for no obvious reason, not presented in books claiming to
describe grammatical  options  for the learner.  Other variations  of  word
order are  also  present in  data,  though  some types  may  be  rarer  (e.g.
complement-fronting:  'rich they may be, but I don't think they're  happy').
If  we  look again  at our  examples  from the point  of  view  of  how  the
information in them is presented, we can see how different options enable
us  to  focus on  or highlight certain  elements:  (2.37)  seems  to  be  saying
something 'about'  The Guardian rather  than  'about'  Joyce;  (2.41)  and
(2.42) seem to bc telling us something 'about'  Joyce. This  'aboutness'  is  the
sort of  notion discourse analysts are concerned with,  for  it  is a  speaker1
writer choice made independently  of  the propositional content  of  the
message; the speakerlwriter decides how to 'stage'  the information, where
to start, so to speak, in presenting the message.
In  English,  what  we  decide  to  bring  to  the  fiont  of  the clause (by
whatever means) is a signal of what is to be understood as the framework
within which what we want  to say  is  to be  understood.  The rest of  the
clause can then be seen as transmitting 'what we want  to say within this
framework'. Items  brought  to  front-place  in  this way we  shall call  the
themes  (or  topics) of  their  clauses. In  what has  been  called  the  Prague
School of  linguistics, the  relationship of  the  theme  to  the  rest of the sentence
is viewed as part of communicative dynamism, that  is the assessment of  the
extent to which each element contributes  to the development of  the com-
munication  (see Firbas 1972). Alternatively,  the theme can be seen as the
'point of departure' of the message (Halliday  1985:  38). For the moment, we
shall take as the theme of a clause  the subject noun-phrase, or, if  this is not
initial, then we shall include whatever comes before it.  It seems that &st
position in the clause is important  in many of  the world's languages, and
that  creating  a  theme in  the  clause is  a  universal feature,  though  its
realisations may vary from language to language.
Check that you are familiar with the devices for varying word order listed
above in examples (2.3742) by  subjecting these two sentences to as many
of  them as possible (an example is given): 2.3  Theme and rheme
1.  Bob takes the children out every Saturday.
Example: Bob,  he  takes  the  children  out every Saturday.  (left dis-
placement)
2.  The gardener wants to cut down those bushes this spring.
We now turn to  the relationship between these in-clatlse structures and the
construction of text. There are clearly restrictions on where and when these
devices may  be  used  when  they occur  in ml  discourse.  &Hh  (2.43) and
(2.44) sound odd:
(2.43)  Q: What time did you leave the building?
A:  What I did at five thirty was leave the building.
(2.44)  Dear Joan,
Me, I'm  sitting here at my desk writing to you. What's  outside my
window is a big lawn surrounded by  trees and it's  a flower bed that's
in the middle of  the lawn. When it was full of daffodils and tulips
was in the spring. Here you'd  love it.  It's  you who must come and
stay sometime; what we've  got is plenty of room.
Love, Sally
(2.43) is peculiar  because 'leaving  the building'  is  already  'given'  in the
question;  it is  therefore odd  that  it should  be  'announced' again in the
answer. (2.4)  contains  a string  of grammatically well-formed sentences  but
it  is highly  unlikely  that  such a welter  of  low-frequency clause patterns
would  om  in  one  small piece  of  text. Moreover,  it  sounds  as  if  the
postcard writer is answering questions nobody has actually  ever asked,
such as 'Isn't  it a pond that's in the middle of  the lawn?' 'No,  it's  a flower
bed  that's  . .  .',  or else implicit contrasts are being suggested without  any
apparent motivation: 'here you'd  love it',  as opposed to 'somewhere where
you might  hate  it'.  Let  us  try getting rid  of  all  the fronting devices and
rewriting our postcard with subjects initial in every clause:
(2.45)  Dear Joan,
I'm sitting here at my desk writing to you. A big lawn surrounded by
trees is outside my window and a flower bed  is in the middle of the
lawn. It was full of daffodils and tulips in the spring. You'd  love it
here. You must come and stay sometime; we've  got plenty of room.
Love, Sally
We probably now  feel  that  the  text  is bland,  a  sort of  flat  landscape in
which  each bit  of  information  is doled out without any overall sense of
direction or  organisation, and with equal weight  given to  all the  elements  of
the message. Language teachers might recognise  in this jejune version some
of  the  characteristics  of low-level  learners' early  attempts  at  letter-  of 2  Discourse analysis and grammar
essay-writing,  hampered  by  impoverished grammatical  resources,  or  the
lack of  confidence to transfer features from L1.  What is missing from our
postcard are strategic decisions  to 'stage'  the information and to put it into
a discourse framework with the foregrounding of certain elements, such as
is found  in natural discourse. A  third version, with discriminating use of
fronting, seems more natural:
(2.6)  Dear Joan,
I'm sitting here at my desk writing to you. Outside my window is a
big lawn surrounded by  trees, and in the middle of  the lawn is a
flower bed. It was full of daffodils and dips  in the spring. You'd
love it here. You must come and stay sometime; we've got plenty of
room.
Love, Sally
In any spatial description of  this kind, spatial orientation of  the reader1
listener is important, and writerslspeakers naturally give prominence  to  this
function. The second sentence in (2.46) does this by front-placing location
adverbials. The remaining  sentences are neutral, with subjects  in  initial
position.  Linde  and  Labov's  (1975)  data  of  people describing their
apartments also contain  frequent front-placings  of  spatial adverbials,
revealing the speakers'  staging strategies.
In  spoken narratives and anecdotes,  speakers will often front-place key
orientationai features  for their listeners. These are most obviously time and
place  markers  ('once  upon  a  time',  'one  day',  'then,  suddenly',  'at  the
corner', 'not  far from here',  etc.), but may also be  foregrounding of  key
participants and  information  about  them felt  to  be  important  for the
listener. This is particularly noticeable in left-displaced structures, which
are  extremely common when  a  participant  is  being made  the  focus  of
attention as a main actor in the subsequent discourse, as in these extracts:
(The extracts are from anecdotes about coincidences and from ghost
stories.)
(2.47)  And the fellow who rang up from Spain that night, he's
coincidence-prone  . . .
(2.48)  That couple that we know in Portsmouth, I don't hear of her for
months, and then, . . .
(Author's data 1989)
But another version of  left-displacement is also common: when one partici-
pant is mentioned in the theme-slot, but only to provide a link with a new
participant who will take the stage in the story (see (2.49) and (2.50)). The
speaker can thus create a new topic or sub-topic framework, by  activating
different elements of  the context, and using the theme-slot  is one way of
making a subject what we have called the  'focus of attention',  the particular
topic being addressed at any one time. Here are some examples horn data: 2.3  Theme and rheme
(2.49)  One of  the men, his wife was a swimming instructor, and she said to
me..  .
(2.50)  This friend of mine, her son was in hospital, and he'd  had a serious
accident, and he .  .  .
(Author's data 1989)
Concentrating on the themes (or  topics) of dausa  doa  not tell us much
about the rest of  the clause, which may be call4  the rheme or comment of
the  clause.  In  fact,  when  we  look  at  themes  and  rhemes  together in
connected text,  we  see  further  patterns  emerging. We  can &vide  our
postcard text into themes and rhemes:
theme (topic)
1.  I
2.  outside my window
3.  In the middle of the lawn
4.  This bed
5.  You
6.  You
7.  We
hem  (comment)
'm  sitting here .  .  .
is a big lawn . .  .
is a flower bed.
was full of daffodils .  .  .
'd  love it here.
must come and stay;
've got plenty of  room.
Two different options  can  be  seen  to be  realised herc:  (a) the  rheme  of
sentence  3 contains an element (the  flower bed) which becomes the theme of
sentence 4;  (b)  the theme of  sentence 5  is the same as the theme of sentence
6. These two textual options may be expressed thus:
Option (a):,  theme1  -  rhemel
5  heme2  theme2  -
theme? -  etc.
Option (b):  theme1  -  rheme'
5.
theme1  -  etc.
We can see these options at work in real texts:
(2.51)  As you  will no doubt have been told; we have our own photographic
club and darkroom. The club is called 'Monomanor' and there is an
annual fee of  f  5. The momy  goes towards replacing any equipment
worn out by  use, or purchasing new equipment. Monomanor runs an
annual competition with prizes, judging being done and prizes
awarded at  the garden party in the summer term. Besides the
competition, we also have talks and/or film shows during the other
terms.
(Advemsancnt for student camera c1u.b;  author's data) 2  Discourse analysis and grammar
Emact (2.51)  reflects option  (a) quite strongly, where elements of  rhemes
become themes of  subsequent sentences (relevant items are in italics). The
next extract chooses predominantly option  (b):
l  am
Claudia Cassaigne
I  live
rue Martel, Paris
l  work
in  the centre of Paris
I  like
Classical ballet
English humour
Cooking Chinese  food
Drinking Champagne
Keep  fit exercises
Tall men with green eyes
I hate
'Being  badly dressed
&king  broke
My perfume  is
Feminine
Light
Very chic
For-the  evenings
Cavale. C'ett Moi
Dressing up inthe evening
(from Cosmopolitan, September 1985, p. 5)
Looking back at the camera club text, we see that sentences 2,3 and 4 are
slightly more complex than was suggested. The rheme of  (2) contains two
elements (Monomanor and £5) which  are taken  up as themes  in the two
separate subsequent sentences, giving us the pattern:
This  third  option  is  a  hierarchical pattern. For  further  examples  and
discussions of  themerheme patterns see Dane;  (1974).
But are these patterns not simply questions of  'style'  or 'rhetoric'?  ,h  a
way, they are, insomuch as they  are not truly structural, since no combi-
nations are specifically forbidden by &,  and  indeed, some of what was
traditionally  relegated to rag-bag categories such as 'style'  has been taken
over as  the province of discourse analysis. It is hoped that the discussion so
far has  indicated the  importance of  thematisation  as a means of  creating
topic  frameworks  and  as  an  example  of  audience  orientation.  Further
investigation would probably also discover links between certain patterns
of  theme and rheme and particular registers (e.g. many advertising texts use
the option of returning to  the same theme, usually the product name). 2.3  Theme and rheme
Reader  activity 10 d
Which pattern(s) of  theme and rheme sequencing an  predominant in these
extracts? Consider  too the author's choice in term of topic frameworks,
and the purpose and register of  the texts.
I.
Cost of  acid cleanup doubles
B
RITAIN'S  privatised  electricity
industry will  f?ce  a bill  for cleaning
up acid polJution from its power stations
that  is more than  double that so  far admit-
ted. The  cost of meeting an EEC  directive
to combat acid  rain,  approved by minis-
ters  in  June, will approach  U  billion,
according  to consultants  who  recently
presented  a study on strategies to  reduce
acid  pollution  to  the Department  of the
Environment (DOE).
The study forms part of  a broad review
of technologies to combat acid  rain, pre-
pared  at  the  request  of  the DOE by  the
Fellowship  of Engineering.
The author of  the study  is Philip Comer
of  Tecbnica,  a  consultancy.  He told  a
meeting  of the British Consultants
Bureau in London  last week  that "with
only a modest increase in electrical energy
consumption, the DOE  targets for pollu-
tion abatement will not be met.  . .  There
is a divergence between stated policy and
achievable objectives.  "
(from New Scientist, 22 October 1988, p. 29)
skull.lt~~~lbfnthOft)##ood
pumpedoutbytheheartateachbeat
The  brain looks not  unlike a huge
~k~ftisdams~with
awrinkled~,andisintwohahnw
~lnthelniddle.Comingoutfrom
thebaseofthekainlikeastaikblha
~crdsm.~bthe~topOf
the~cwd,wMchrunsondown
toour'tan'.P8rbOfthebcBin~
conbPlourmarrtbadc~
-,  -  b-,  -km  and
-=
(from The Observer,  16 October 1988, p. 2) 2  Discourse analysis and grammar
Patterns  of  sequencing of  theme  and  rheme  are  tendencies  rather than
absolutes. Very few  texts (except perhaps highly  ritualised ones  such  as
religious litanies) repeat the same thematising patterns endlessly. We have
suggested  that  low-level  learners might be  trapped  in  unnatural  patterns
owing to limited grammatical resources or lack of confidence in a new L2,
but most advanced learners are  likely to have a good feel for creating topic
frameworks and orienting their audience. The grammatical structures that
are underplayed in grammar books (e.g.  left displacements, object-fronting)
may be produced unconsciously by learners, but awareness  and monitoring
on the part of teachers is necessary to ensure that natural production using
the wide resources of  the grammar is indeed taking place.
So far, we have concentrated on thematising in clauses, but it should not
be  forgotten  that  sequencing  choices  of  clauses  within  sentences,  and
sentences within  paragraphs are of  the  same, discourse-related type.  For
instance,  it has  been  observed  that  first sentences often  tell  us what the
whole  paragraph  is  about,  a  macro-level  front-placing  of  an  element
signalling the  framework of  the message. Such sentences are often called
topic  sentences,  and are  considered  important  for  skills  such  as  skim-
reading. It is often possible, just by reading the first sentence,  to  state what a
paragraph is about (the  paragraph theme), though it is not possible to state
what the text  is saying about its theme  (the paragraph  rheme). However,
this does  seem  to be  an oversimplification, and  many  paragraphs  have
initial sentences  that do not tell us what the paragraph is about. Jones and
Jones's  (1985)  study of  cleft and pseudo-cleft sentences in discourse shows
that the presence of a cleft structure, even if not paragraph-initial,  is often a
more reliable  signal  of  paragraph topic, and anyway,  relatively  little  is
known about why writers make paragraph divisions where they do.
Finally, ideally, we  should  also consider  sentences  that  contain more
than one element other than the subject brought to front place, such as this
very sentence you are reading. The first fronted element (finally) organises
the text sequentially a--that  the section is coming to a close (a
textual function); ideally signals my  attitude towards what I have to say,
and  has  an  interpersonal function. The next  element, we,  is part  of  the
content or ideational meaning of  the message,  or, as Halliday  (1985: 56)
calls it, the  topical  theme. The unmarked (most  frequent) order for complex
themes can thus be stated as textual +  interpersonal +  ideational:
Themes  Textual  lntetpersonal  Ideational
Examples  moreover  frankly  Joe  Smith .  .  .
likewise  obviously  burglars .  .  .
for instance  personally  I..  .
(Adapted  from Halliday 1985: 534)
58 2.4  Tense and aspect
A  natural example of  this ordering is seen  in this sentence from a student
essay on language and gender:
(2.53)  Conversely, possibly, females felt more at ease responding to a
non-specific  female address.
(Author's data 1989)
The notion of  theme and how  it is realised in English is an area where
grammatical structure  and discourse function seem most closely allied, and,
if discourse analysis  is to have an influence on how language  is taught, then
ways of  presenting variations  in  clause structure  in  relation  to discourse
functions may be a good place to start.  In  the past, emphasis on invented
sentences and on writing (in both theoretical and applied linguistics) has
led to  the relegation to the fringes of  some structures found in natural talk.
But natural data  show that variations of  standard SVOA order are much
more frequent than might be thought. Furthermore, languages vary in how
they  deal with  thematisation: Japanese has a particle wa, widely used  to
topicalise elements in clauses (Hinds 1986: 157),  and Tagalog (the  language
of  the Philippines) apparently topicalises  at  the  end  of  clauses (Creider
1979).  Other languages are similar  to English; Duranti and Ochs (1979)  give
examples of  left-displacement  in Italian speech and discuss its functions in
discourse management. Mixed nationality groups of  learners may therefore
present a variety  of  problems  at  various  levels, just  as  is  the case in
conventional grammar teaching.
2.4  Tense and aspect
A great deal of attention has recently been paid to  the relationship between
tense-aspect  choices  and  overall discourse constraints.  By  examining
natural  data,  discourse analysts  are  able  to observe regular  correlations
between discourse types and the predominance of certain tense and aspect
choices  in  the  clause.  Equally,  the  emphasis-in  bi~ourse  anzlysls  on
interactive features  of  discourse such  as  speakerlwriter  perspective  and
standpoint, and the focusing or foregrounding of  certain elements of  the
message,  has  led  to  reinterpretations  of  conventional statements  about
tense and aspect rules.
An example of  the first type of approach is Zydatiss (1986),  who looked
at  a number  of  text  types  in English  where present  perfect  is either
dominant or in regular contrast with past  simple. Zydatiss observed that
three basic functions of  the present perfect, all under the general heading of
current  relevance,  frequently  recur  over a  wide  range  of  text  types.  He
names  these functions: (1)  conveying  'hot news',  (2)  expressing  experiences,
and (3)  relating to present effects of changes and accomplishments.
'Hot news'  texts are mostly found in broadcast and written news reports, 2  Discourse amlysis and grammar
but are also common in everyday speech. An examflk (taken from British
television news) is:  'The government has announced a muki-million pound
scheme to retrain the unemployed,  but union chiefs have pledged all-out
opposition to it.'  This choice of  tense and aspect will occur time and time
again,  and  can  be  tapped  as  a  rich  source of  illustrative material  for
language teaching  (see for example, Swan and Walter  1990: 50, who use
just  such news events  to  illustrate present perfect  usage).  Lcrms-to-the-
editor and agony-column letters, Zydatiss claims, contain frequent present
perfects performing the 'experiences'  and  'changes  and accomplishments'
functions. Idot  news  texts, present perfect regularly contrasts with past
simple in the same text, where the  topicalising sentence  uses present perfect,
while the details of  the narrative are in past simple, for example: 'A  British
firm bas laded a huge shipping  contract  in Brazil. The deal was signed at  a
meeting today in London.'  Biographical sketches and obituaries  are also a
source of  this shift of  tense. Zydatiss lists many  text types which seem to
have such correlations. The usefulness  of  such investigations is not  that
they necessarily tell language  teachers anything they did not already know
or might conclude from intuition, burthat they offer a short-cut to useful
data sources and statistical back-up  to intuition.
In specialist  and academic  texts such as  scientific  articles, correlations  are
often observable between discourse segments and tense and aspect choices.
Medical research articles in  journals such as the British Medical Journal,
for instance, regularly use past simple in the abstract section,  and shift to
predominantly present perfect in  the  introduction  section, at the end  of
which  there  is  a shift back  to past simple where  the discourse begins  its
'narrative'  of the particular  research experiment reported. Also in academic
texts, one  finds  interesting  correlations  between the tenses used to  cite other
authors and the current  author's standpoint: one might compare  alternative
citations  such  as  'Johnson  (1975) suggtsts/has suggestdlsuggestcdlhad
suggested that . .  .'.
Reader activity 1  1 d
Consider  this  sentence taken from  the  end  of  an  essay  by  a learner of
English.  In what way  is her use of  tense and aspect inappropriate? hw
would  you  correct  it  and  what  rule  or  guideline could  you  give  her
regarding rense and aspect in different sections of  academic essays?
Conclusion
In this  essay,  I try to discuss the different types of  information which
the matrices give about words. Also some  other information which
matrices can convey are suggested in the last seaion.
(Author's data 1989) 2.4  Tense and aspect
A particular day-today context worth noting is  the telling of  stories, jokes
and anecdotes. Schiffrin's (1981)  data shows regular correlations between.
discourse segments and tense and aspect choices. Schiffrin considers prin-
acipally  the  shiL from  'historic'  present  (i.e. using  the  present  tense  to
describe actions and  events  in  the  past)  to past  simple  in  English  oral
anecdotes. She takes a model of  narrative based on Labov  (1972),  in which
the main elements  are orientation (establishing  ti-  place and characters),
complicating  actions (the  main events  that make the  mry),  resolution (how
the story  reaches  its end), and  evaluation  (cornmuas  on the events).
Historic present tense verbs cluster in the  complicahg &on  segments,
and, within those segments, particularly in the middle of  the-VS,  and
not typically in the initial or final clause. Historic  present is also  sometimes
accompanied by  changes from simple  to progressive aspect where the time
sequence seems to be broken  and a particularly strong focus is given  to
actions.  In  the following extract, the speaker is  recounting a ghost story;
note the shift.  in tense and aspect at crucial junctures:
(2.54)  A:  Not all that long since, perhaps ten years ago,.  this friend of mine,
her son was in hospital, and he'd  had a serious accident and he
was unconscious for a long time . . .  anyway, she went to see him
one day and she said 'Has  anybody been  to see you?', and he says
'No,  but a right nice young lady came to see me,'  he said, 'she
was lovely, she stood at the foot of me bed, you know, she . . .
had a little word with me.'  Well eventually he came home, and
they'd  a lot of  the family in the house, and Emma, this friend of
mine, brought these photographs out, of  the family through the
years, and, passing them round, and he's  looking at  them and he
said 'Oh!  that's  that young lady that came to see me when I was
in bed.'  She'd  died when he was born  . . .  so.
B:  Good God.
A:  He'd  never seen her.
B:  No . . .  heavens.
(Author's data 1989)
Note how  'he  says'  prefaces the significant event of  the appearance of  the
'lady'.  Historic present occurs again, accompanied by  progressive aspect
(he's looking) at the highest moment of  suspense  in the tale.
In Schiffrin's  data, historic present often occurs in segments where the
episodes are understood by the listener as occurring  in sequence and in the
time-world  of  the  story;  therefore,  to  some  extent,  the  grammatical
marking  of pastness may be considered redundant. Schiffrin compares  these
segments of narratives with sports commentaries, recipe commentaries (the
speaker describing  the process as  it happens) and magicians' commentaries
on  their  tricks.  The historic  present  in  anecdotes  is really  an  'internal
evaluation device',  focusing on the events  that really 'make'  the story. 2  Discourse analysis and grammar
The data for  tense and aspect we have looked at can all be interpreted in
the light of  the speakerlwriter's  perspective and as projections of  shifting
perspectives. The tenses and aspects do not gem  so much  strictly bound to
time  as  to  issues  such  as  the  sender's  purpose,  the  focus  on  different
elements  of  the message, and the projection of  a shared framework within
which the receiver will understand  the message.
Tense and aspect vary notoriously from language to  language and are
traditional  stumbling-blocks  for  learners.  The classic 'aspect' languages
such  as  the  Slavic  tongues make choices of  perfective  and  imperfective
aspects which are quite at odds with the English notion of describing past
events  in terms of  'now-relevance'  (present perfect) and  'break 4th  the
present'  (past simple). However, some features,  for  example  tve  use  of
historic present in anecdotes, seem widely distributed across Ianguages (in
Europe  the Nordic and theRomance languages  share  this feature). Whether
or not such features are transferred by  learners without difficulty  is another
matter, and one worthy of close observation. Certainly in the genre-specific
occurrences such  as the medical  articles discussed above, learners  some-
times experience  difficulties  or  show unawareness of  rhe conventions of the
genre.
This  chapter has  taken  a selection  of  grammatical. concepts and  has
attempted  to show how discourse analysis has contributed to our under-
standing of  the  relationship  between local choices within  the clause and
sentence and the organisation of  the discourse as a whole. When speakers
and writers are producing discourse, they are, at the same time as they are
busy  constructing clauses, monitoring the development of  the  larger dis-
course, and their choices at the local  level can be  seen simultaneously to
reflect  the concerns of  the discourse as an unfolding production, with an
audience, whether present or projected. A discourse-oriented approach to
grammar would suggest not only a greater emphasis on contexts larger  than
the sentence, but also a reassessment of priorities in terms of what is taught
about such things as word order, articles, ellipsis, tense and  aspect, and
some of  the other categories discussed here.
If  grammar  is seen  to have a direct role in welding clauses,  turns and
sentences  into  discourse,  what  of  words  themselves? What  role does
vocabulary choice play in the discourse process?  It is to this question that
we turn next. 2.5  Conclusion
Further reading
The most  detailed  work  on grammar  above clause  level  is Halliday  (1985), but
some prefer  to treat this as a reference work rather than as reading.
Monaghan  (1987) is an interesting,  though sometimes difficult, collection of papers
on different aspects of grammar and discourse.
For  a  detailed  description  of  cohesion  in  English, Halliday  and Hasan  (1976) is
unsurpassed,  though Hasan's  (1984) revision of  lexical cohesion should also be
taken  into account.
The  room  descriptions  in  Dutch  in  Ehrich  and  Koster  (1983)  contain further
examples comparable to Linde's.
Another interesting study of substitution is Jordan  (1986).
Ellipsis in conversation  is examined in detail in Ricento  (1987).
More on expressing cause in conversation may be found in Schiffrin  (1985a).
On the question of  the significance of  front position  in  the clause  in  the world's
languages, see Fuller and Gundel  (1987).
For word-order phenomena in various selected  languages,  see Givon (1984).
On front-placing  in Spanish see Rivero (1980), and for French, see Barnes (1985).
Kies (1988)  contains a good discussion on variations of word order in English data.
Discussion of the different  theme-rheme  patterns can be found in Danes (1974),  and
further discussion of  theme in P. H. Fries (1983).
For the distribution of  theme-rheme  patterns  in written texts, see Eiler  (1986) and
Francis (1989).
Topic sentences in paragraphs are discussed by Grellet (1981: 96-8).
A good general  survey  of  different  treatments of 'given'  and  'new' in  relation  to
. theme and rheme may be found  in Allerton  (1978).
A  combined investigation  of present  progressive,  deictic  that. and  pronominali-
sation in spoken technical discourse can be  found  in Reichman-Adar  (1984).
For more on tense  in  learned citations,  see Riddle (1986).
Aspect in  the  Slavic  languages  is  exemplified  in  Hopper  (1979  and  1982) with
reference to Russian discourse.
Aspect  and  discourse  in French  is  dealt with  by  Monville-Burston  and Waugh
(1985)  and Waugh and Monville-Burston (1986).
At  the more advanced  level,  the papers  in Schopf  (1989) on  tense  in English  are
worth pursuing. 'When  I  use  a word,'  Humpty
Dumpty said,  in rather a scorn-
ful tone,  'it means  just what  I
choose  it  to  mean  - neither
more nor less.'
'The question  is,' said Alice,
'whether  you  can make words
mean so many different  things.'
3.1  Introduction
Bringing a  discourse dimension  into  language teaching does not by  any
means imply an abandonment of  teaching vocabulary. Vocabulary will still
be the largest single element  in tackling a new language for the learner and
it would be irresponsible to suggest that it will  take care-of itself in some
ideal world where language teaching  and'  learning  are discourse-driven.
The vocabulary  lesson  (or pan of  a  lesson) will  still have  a  place  in  a
discourse-oriented syllabus; the challenge is to bring the discourse dimen-
sion into vocabulary teaching alongside  traditional and recent, more com-
municative approaches (e.g. Gairns and Redman  1986). Therefore, in this
chapter we  shall  look  at  research  into  vocabulary in extended texts  in
speech and writing and consider if  anything can be  usefully exploited  to
give a discourse dimension to vocabulary teaching and vocabulary activi-
ties  in  the  classroom. Most  are  already in agreement  that  vocabulary
should, wherever possible,  be  taught  in context, but  context is a  rather
catch-all term and what we need to do  at  this point is to  look at some of  the
specific relationships between vocabulary choice, context  (in the sense of
the situation  in which the discourse  is produced) and co-text (the  actual  text
surrounding any given lexical item). The suggestions we shall make will be
offered as a supplement  to conventional vocabulary teaching rather than as
a replacement for it. 3.2  Lexical cohesion
3.2  Lexical cohesion
One recent attempt at studying vocabulary.patterns above sentence level is
Halliday  and  Hasan's  (1976)  description  of  lexical  cohesion. Related
vocabulary items occur across clause and sentence boundaries  in written
texts and across act, move and turn boundaries in speech and are a major
characteristic  of  coherent  discourse.  The  relatians  between  vocabulary
items in texts described by  the Halliday-Hasan  model are  of  two principal
kinds: reiteration and collocation.
It  is debatable whether collocation properly  belongs to the notion  of
lexical cohesion, since collocation only refers to the probatjility  that lexical
items will co-occur, and  is not a semantic relation between words. Here,
therefore, we shall consider the term 'lexical cohesion' to mean only exact
repetition of words and the role played by  certain basic semantic relations
between words  in  creating textuality,  that property  of  text which distin-
guishes  it  from  a  random  sequence of  unconnected  sentences. We  shall
consequently ignore collocational associations across sentence boundaries
as lying outside of  these semantic relations.
If  lexical reiteration can be shown  to be a significant feature of  textuality,
then there may be something for the language teacher to exploit. We shall
not suggest that  it be exploitcd simply because it  is there, but only  if, by
doing so, we can give learners meaningful, controlled practice and  the hope
of improving their text-creating and decoding abilities, and providing them
with more varied contexts for using and practising vocabulary.
Reiteration means either restating an item in a later part of  the discourse
by  direct repetition  or else  reasserting  its meaning by  exploiting  lexical
relations. Lexical relations are the stable semantic relationships that exist
between words and which are  the basis of descriptions given in dictionaries
and thesauri: for example, rose and flower  are related by hyponymy;  rose is
a  hyponym of  flower. Eggplant  and aubergine  are  related  by  synonymy
(regardless  of the geographical dimension of usage  that distinguishes them).
In the following two sentences, lexical cohesion by  synonymy occurs:
(3.1)  The meeting commenced at six  thirty. But from the moment it began,
it was clear that all was not well.
Here,  commence and begin co-refer to the same entity in the real world.
They need not always do  so:
(3.2)  The meeting commenced at six thirty; the storm began at eight.
In  (3.2) commence and begin  refer  to separate events, but we would still
wish  to see a  stylistic  relationship  between  them (perhaps  to create dry
humourlirony). Decoding the co-referring relationship in  (3.1) is an inter-
pretive act of  the reader, just  as occurs with pronouns (see section 2.2).  In
(3.3), cohesion by hyponymy occurs: 3  -  Discowse analysis and vocabulary
(3-3)  There was a fine old rocking-chair  that his father used to sit in, a
desk where he wrote  letters, a nest of small tables and a dark,
irnpo~ing  bookcase. Now all this furniture  was to be sold, and with it
his own past.
The superordinate need  not be  an  immediate superordinate in  the family
tree of a particular word; it can be a general word (see Halliday and Hasan
1976: Ch. 6). Instead of furniture we could have had all these itemslobjectsl
things, which are examples of geneial superordinates. Other genera1 super-
ordinates, covering human  and  abstract  areas, include people, creature,
idea  and  fact.  Reiteration  of  this kind  is  extremely common in  English
discourse; we do not always find direct repetition of words, and very often
find considerable variation from sentence to sentence in writing and from
turn to  turn in speech. Such variation can add new dimensions and nuances
to meaning, and serves to build up an increasingly complex context, since
every new  word,  even  if  it  is  essentially  repeating  or  paraphrasing  the
semantics of  an  earlier word, brings with  it  its  own connotations and
history of  occurrence. In the case of  reiteration by a superordinate, we can
often see a summarising or encapsulating function in the choice of words,
bringing various elements of  the  text together under one, more  general
term.  Reiteration  is  not  a chance  event;  writers  and  speakers make
conscious choices whether to repeat, or find a synonym, or  a superordinate.
Discourse analysts have not yet given us any convincing rules or guide-
lines as to when or why  a writer or speaker might choose a synonym for
reiteration  rather than  repetition, though some  research suggests a link
between reiteration using synonyms and the idea of  're-entering'  important
topic words into the discourse at a later stage, that is to say bringing them
back  into focus,  or  foregrounding them again  (see Jordan  198.5). Other
research claims correlations between boundaries of discourse segments (as
opposed  to sentences or paragraphs) and re-entering of  full noun phrases
instead  of  pronouns  (see B.  Fox  1987). We may  also be  dealing with a
lexical parallel to the grammatical topicalisation discussed in section 2.3. In
(3.4), we can observe the  importance  of  the words route and way in  the
foregrounding of the topic in this short extract, which is how to or ways of
getting a contract, as indicated by  the headline:
THE NORMAL route  is  to
HOW
build  up  a  following  through
live  shows,  send  in  tapes  to  -
to get a  record companies and then wait
until someone  'discovers"  you.
contract  But there are other ways ...
(from News on Sunday, 14 June 1987, p. 22) 3.2  Lexical cohesion
Such usage  as this is very  common  in English discourse. However,  in
practice, since  our  knowledge is inadequate, language teachers  must
content  themselves  with observing each case  as it-arises  and,  for  the
moment, work  on  raising  an  awareness  of  such phenomena where
awareness is lacking, and,-most  important  of  all,  the  lexical
equipment in L2  and practice of  the skills  to enable learners to create texts
that  resemble  naturally occurring ones  themsekes.  It means  that  it  is
important  to make  learners  aware  that  synonyms are not  just  ways  of
understanding new words when &ey  crop up  in  class, nor are they some
abstract notion  for the organisation of  lexicons and hjuri,  but they are  -
there  to  be  used,  just  as any  other  linguistic device,  in  the creation  of
natural discourse.
Another implication for language pedagogy is that material writers  who
create their  own  texts  or who  simplify naturally occurring ones should
remember that disturbing the lexical patterns of  texts may lead to unnatu-
ralness and  inauthenticity at the discourse level; simplification may mean
an unnatural amount of  repetition, for example, compared with  the vari-
ation  between  exact  repetition  and  reiteration  by  other means  found  in
natural texts.
An  analysis of  the  following newspaper extract according to Halliday
and Hasan's  principles, shows lexical cohesion at work:
RITAIN'S  green  and  Anti-hunt  campaigners estimate
pleasant  meadows  yes-  that  7,500  young hounds will be
terday  became  "killing  destroyed  because  they  fail  to
fields" with the start of  the fox  mabe  the grade.
cub hunting  season.  And  many  experienced  hounds
More  than  6,000  young  foxes  will be killed because they are  too
eqjoying their first flush of life will  old to hunt.
be hunted down  in the next  three  The cub  hunting wason is  just a
months  to  give  inexperienced  curtain-raiser to  the  traditional
young hounds a blood lust.  pastime of kitling  adult foxes.
But  the  dogs  will  also  suffer.
(from News on  Sunday, 2 August 1987, p. 10)
Fox cub  is reiterated as  the near-synonymous  young foxes; young hounds is
repeated,  but  also  covered  by  the  superordinate  dogs  in the  third para-
graph.  Destroyed  and  killed  are also synonymous in  this context (para-
graphs 3 and 4).
Learning to observe  lexical  links  in  a  text  according  to Halliday  and
Hasan's model could be useful for language learners in various ways. For
one thing, it encourages learners to group lexical items together according
to particular contexts by  looking at the lexical relations in any given text.
One of  the recurring problems for learners is that words presented by  the
teacher or coursebook as synonyms will probably only be  synonymous in
certain contexts and the learner has to learn to observe  just when and where
individual pairs of  words may be used interchangeably. 3  Discourse analysis and vocabulary
Little is known about the transferability of  these lexical features 6f  text
-.  .
from one language to another.  Some languages may have a preference for
repetition rather than linking by  synonymy (such  as is often said of  literary
and academic styles in Spanish, for example);  sometimes learners may find
the  transfer  of  these  skills  to be  easy  and  automatic.  In  either  case  the
learner may need  to use a range of  vocabulary that  is perhaps wider than
the coursebook or materials have allowed for. Additionally, an awareness
of  the  usefulness of  learning synonyms and  hyponyms  for  text-creating
purposes may not always be psychologically present among learners; there
is often a tendency for such areas of vocabulary learning to be seen as word
study divorced from actual use,  or at best only concerned with  receptive
skills. Conventional treatments of vocabulary in published materials often
underline this word-out-of-context approach.  Redman  and Ellis's  (1989
and 1990) vocabulary materials are exceptional in this respect.
Trace all subsequent lexical reiterations of  the underlined words in the text
below. Are  the  reiterations in the form of  near-synonyms,  antonyms or
hyponymslsuperordinates!
Cruise  guards  Lwere asleepg
W  a  group  al-  of  owe
peace campiigners to
breach a missile  se-
curity  cordon  yester-
day
The women protesters
claimed to  have walked
right  up  to  cruise
launchers.
As  sentries slept. they
tiptoed  pest  sentries at
3am  and  inspected  a
crulse  convoy in a  woody
copse  on Wsbury  Plain.
Greenham  Common
campaigner  Sarah
Graham  said : 'For  the
sake  of  maki
% thm  more realistic,  e copse
was protected by soldiers
dug into fox-holes.
'And  there were  dogs
rather  than the  usual
reels  of barbed wire."
But,  she claimed. the
American airmen were
dodng  by the launchers.
"One  was  kipping ben-
eath  one  of  the
vehicles,"  she  added.
(from News on Sunday, 2 August 1987, p. 15)
Eventually, one of  the
airmen "woke  qp"  and
spotted the women, who
had  been  trailing  the
convoy from  the
Greenham  Common
base  in  Berkshire  since
Tuesday.
The  Ministry  of  De-
fence  confirmed  there
had been  an incident.
Ten  women  had  been
arrested.  cha
trespassing an  reled
on bail.
F  "th
3.3  Lexls  in talk
There is no  reason why the model of  lexical relations in text outlined above
should not also be applied to  spoken data (see  Stubbs 1983:  22-3). When we 3.3  Lexis in talk
do  this, we find that interesting observations  can be made concerning  how
speakers reiterate their own and take up one another's vocabulary selec-
tions in one form or another from turn  to ~m  and develop and expand
topics in doing so. We shall refer to this phmomnon as relexicalisation.
Let us look at a piece of  data from Crystal ad  Dpvy  (1975)  and analyse it
according  to the general principles of  the Hahday-Hasan  model:
'(3.6)  (Two women are taking  about 'Eonfire Night',  the night when many
people in Britain have large bonfires  and iircworks  in  their gardens.)
A:  No, I don't  think we can  manage a large boafitr but the fireworks
themselves er we have a little storc of, . .
B: Oh yes,  they're quite fun, yes.
A:  Mm yes,  the children like them very much  so  I think as long as
one is careful, very careful (B:  Oh yes) it's  all right.
B: Mm.
A:  But em  I ban bangers, we don't have any bangers (B:  Yes) I can't
stand those (B:  Yes) just  the pretty ones.
B:  Sparklers are my favourites.
A:  Mm Catherine Wheels are my  favourites  actually but er you
know we have anything  that's pretty and sparkly and we have a
couple of  rockets you know, to satisfy Jonathan who's  all rockets
and spacecrafts and things like this.
(Crystal  and Davy 1975: 28)
In A's  first turn, she concludes a few previous exchanges  about bonfires and
then shifts  the topic to the closely associated fireworks. B accepts the topic
and  just  says  that  fireworks  are  fun.  A takes  up  B's  use  of  fin,  and
relexicalises it as like  them  and  then  adds that one should  be  careful. B
simply replies  'mm'.  A  (who  seems  to work  hardest  at  this  point  in
developing  topics) returns  to  the fireworks  themselves and talks of  par-
ticular fireworks: bangers and pretty ones. B continues this with spark.
A comes back with Catherine Wheels,  then repeats pretty and sparkly and
expands  to rockets. At the same time she  exploits  the double association of
rocket to bring in its near-synonym spacecrafi, thus expanding  the topic to
talk about her child, Jonathan.
Meanwhile, other relexicalisations are discernible:  fun in B's  turn,  which
becomes like in A's,  is  taken up as can't  stand  in A's next turn,  then  as
favourites  by  B,  and  finally  as  favorrites again  by  A,  representing,  by
moving  from near-synonym to antonym and vice versa,  the sub-topic of
'likes  and preferences'  with  regard  to fireworks. Another relexicalisation
chain can be seen in the sub-topic of  'precautions and restrictions': carebl,
ban,  don't  have carry this  strand  over  the  turn  boundaries.  This  small
number of  lexical chains accounts for almost all the content items in  the
extract. The  intimate  bond  between  topic development and the modifi-
cation and reworking of  lexical items already used  makes the conversation 3  Discourse analysis and vocabulary
develop coherently,  seeming  to move  from sub-topic  to  sub-topic  as  a
seamless whole.  In this way the scope of  the topics is worked out between
the participants, with neither side necessarily  dominating.  This  accords
with  the ethnomethodological approach to discourse analysis, which  sees
conversation as a joint  activity that  has  to be worked at.  Topics unfold
interactively,  rather than  'existing'  as static  entities; Wardaugh  (1985:
13P-40) refers to topic as a  'consensual outcome'.  This is quite clearly so
here. Speakers can throw topics into the ring, but whether they are  taken up
or die depends on the other speakerts); if  one speaker insists on pursuing
hislher topics, ignoring  the wishes  of  others, this is precisely  when  we
recognise deviance  into monologue or complain later to our friends  that 'X
was hogging  the conversation'. Utterances by one speaker are an invitation
to a response by  another (see Goffman 1976);  the initiating utterance puts
an obligation on the responding speaker  to make hislher turn both relevant
to the previous turn and a positive contribution to the forward moving of
the discourse (see Vuchinich 1977).  Relexicalisation  of some  elements of the
previous turn provides just  such a contribution to relevance and provides
other important 'I  am with you' signals to the initiator.
Topics unfold, and the vocabulary used by  the speakers offers openings
for possible development, which may or may not be exploited. The 'con-
versation' class where topics are pre-set may be a straitjacket to this natural
kind of  development; a safer course of  action might be to see pre-set topics
merely  as 'starters'  and  not  to worry  if  the discourse develops its  own
momentum and goes off  in unpredictable directions.
Reader activity 2 d
Look  at this extract  from Svartvik and Quirk's  data  and trace the  repe-
titions and relexicalisations  of the italicised items, in the way that was done
for the fireworks text (the  transcription is simplified here):
A:  You're knitting. .  .  what arc you knitting, that's not a tiny
garment.
B:  No  (A:  laughs) no it's  for me, but it's very plain.
A: It's  a lovely colour.
B:  It's  nice.
A:  Yeah, I  never could take to knitting except on these double-0
needles with string you know, that's my sort of knitting.
B:  Yeah.
A:  It grows quickly.
B:  Yeah I get very fed up.
A:  It's just  the process though .  .  .  do you sew?  I  used to sew a lot
when  .  . .
B:  No  I  don't. 3.3  L.exis  in talk
A:  In  the days when I was a human being.
B:  I have aspirations  to make marvellous  garments you know.
A:  Well it's so cheap you know, dw  is  the thing.
B:  Yes.
A:  Particularly, I think you prohhly like  dw  sort  of clothes I  like
anyway, which is fairly simplq things like summer  dresses which
are just straight up and down you know,  with  a SCOOP  neck.
B:  Particulariy with those shifts, I mean you'lr well away aren't  you.
A:  Yes, oh yes, terribly cheap.
(Svartvik and Quirk 1980: 83-4)
Other  linguists'  data,  in analyses where they have  been  interested in
discourse features such as agreement/disagreement patterns  and everyday
discussion,  also  show  regularly recurring vocabulary patterns  where
speakers  use  synonyms,  hyponyms  and  antonyms  to  perform conver-
sational functions (see Pomerantz 1984  and Pearson 1986, for example). In
Pearson's data, people did not  typically agree or  disagree with phrases such
as 'I  agree'  or 'I  disagree' (beloved of English coursebook writers); rather,
there  seemed  to be a preference  for  simply using some  son of  lexical
relation between turns.
The way in which we can observe speakers moving from superordinates
to hyponyms and from synonyms  to antonyms and back again is a common
feature of  conversation and  learners can be equipped to use  this skill by
regular practice. As with written texts,  in English at least, speakers do not
just repeat the same  items  endlessly. This may be so  in all languages and the
behaviour itself may be easily transferable (but  see Hinds 1979,  for interest-
ing observations on the preference for direct repetition in Japanese conver-
sation). However, to behave in this natural way  in a foreign language, the
learner  needs  to have a fairly rich  vocabulary,  and  to  have  at  hislher
fingertips the  synonyms,  antonyms,  etc.  of  the words  that are  'in play'.
Once again, the issue is how  to relate abstract notions such as synonymy
and  hyponymy  to  discourse  skills,  rather  than  just  teaching them  as
disembodied properties of word lists.
Encouraging recognition  of  the  communicative value  of  these lexical
relations can start at quite an early stage in  language learning, as soon as
the necessary vocabulary is encountered. Simple cue and response drills for
pairwork can train  the learner in  immediately associating synonyms and
antonyms,  or  a  superordinate with  its  hyponyms,  and  vice versa  (see
Redman and Ellis 1989  for examples). 3  W  analysis and vocabufary
9.4  Textual aspects ol  bxkal competence
A somewhat different type of lexical relation in discourse is when a writer
or speaker rearranges the conventional and well-establishad  lexical rela-
tions and asks us, as  it were,  to adjust our usual conceptualisations  of how
words  relate  to  one another for  the  particular purposes  of  the text  in
question.  In  one way  or another, our expectations as to how words are
conventionally  used  are  disturbed.  A  simple example  is  the  following
extract  from a review of a book on American military planning:
(3.7)  The depressing feature of Allen's ddments  is the picture which
emerges of smart but stupid military planners, the equivalent of
America's madder fundamentalists, happily playing the fool with the
future of the planet.
(The Gwrdian, 13 November 1987: 15)
Here, two words, smart and stupid, frequently occurring  in the language as
antonyms, and therefore incompatible, are  to be interpreted as compatible
descriptions of the military experts. To  do  this we have  to adjust  our  typical
expectations of how the two words operate as a related pair. One reason-
able interpretation would  be  that the -experts are  clever  ('smart')  but
morally reckless Cstupid');  to  interpret them  as meaning 'intelligent  but
unintelligent' would clearly be a nonsense.
Similarly, groups of  informants faced with the following advertisement
text react with mild surprise if  the last two words are first covered up and
then revealed:
(3.8)  Just brush .one generous
coat  of  Hammerite  di-
rectly on  to metal. Within
15  minutes  it's  dried  to
a  smoothi  harnmered-
enamel finish that shru  s
off dirt and water 'ust li  f  e
a non-stick  pan.  Gou get
all  of  this  in  a  choice  of
ten  attractive  colours.
Plus black.  (from Weekend, 23-29  May 1984, p. 19)
In many situations black is an unexceptionable member of the 'colour' set
of  adjectives (such that the remark  'helshe wears really attractive colours,
blacks  and  reds,  you  know  . .  .' would  be  quite normal). Here we  are
expected to place black outside of  the range of  'attractive colours'  and to
consider it as a separate entity. Such an adjustment probably has no great
permanent  implications  for  the place  of  black  in  our  mental lexicon
(though we might be unconsciously on our guard and less surprised if  we 3.4  Textual aspects of  lexical competence
encountered  the relationship of exclusion again, especially  'in the context of
paints,  perhaps)  and,  as  in  the  case  of  smart  and  stupid, no  necessary
implications  that such relations have language-wide validity.
Alongside these eye-catching disturbances of our  lexical expectations are
other,  less obvious kinds of  lexical  readjustments.  These are lexical rela-
tions that are valid in particular texts only, and whose interpretations may
not correspond  to dictionary definitions.  The good readerllistener  has  to
decide when words are being used as more or less synonymous (or  in what
Bailey  (1985) calls 'functional  equivalence')  and,  conversely, when  those
same words may  be being used  in a way  that focuses on the difference in
meaning-potential.
Discourse-specific lexical  relations can  be  called  instantial  relations,
borrowing the term from J. Ellis (1966) (see also Hasan  1984). They  are
found frequently in spoken and written texts, and are probably a universal
feature in all languages. The  problems learners tend to encounter with such
uses  are usually  more psychologically-generated; it  is  not that  they have
never encountered ad hoc rearrangements of  predictable  lexical usage, but
more that they come  to texts (especially  reading comprehension texts), with
the expectation that words have rather fixed relationships with one another
because they have correspondingly fixed meanings, and vice versa. The  task
of  the  teacher  is  mainly  to  raise  an  awareness  that  typical  vocabulary
relations are often readjusted  in  individual texts,  and, of  course,  to assist
learners where  necessary  in  interpreting such  reorderings.  Instantial  rela-
tions often represent important stylistic features in texts, either in the sense
of creative lexical usage, or perhaps as devices of evaluation or irony or for
particular focus (e.g. the smartlstupid relation); by definition, each case has
to be  interpreted individually.
Reader octivity  3  d
lnstuntial relations
Financial  and  economic  are  very  often  used  synonymously  (e.g.  'The
government  has  closed  down  the  unit  for  financialleconomic  reasons').
How are  they  used  in  the  following  text? What  possible  interpretations
could be put on the writer's choice of the words?  (The writer is criticising a
proposal  to close a railway line in the north of England.)
The accountants can produce as many figures as they like to prove
that there are financial reasons for closing it. But there are no
economic reasons. Already the campaign to keep the line has inspired
many new initiatives along its  length. It  is an asset only now being
fully appreciated in every sense.
(Country Living, May  1988: 19) 3  -DSCDUPS~  amalysis and vocabulary
Vocabulary and the organising of text
A distinction is often made between grammar words and lexical words in
language. This distinction also appears sometimes as hnction words versus
content words, or  empty words versus  full words. The distinction is a useful
one:  it  enables  us  to separate  off  those words  which  belong  to  closed
systems  in the language and which carry grammatical meaning, from those
that belong to open systems and which belong to the major word classes of
noun,  verb,  adjective and  adverb.  This,  that,  these and  those  in English
belong to a closed system (as do  the pronouns and prepositions) and carry
the grammatical meaning  of  'demonstratives'.  Monkey, sculpture,  noise
and toenail belong to open-ended sets,  which  are often thought of  as the
'creative'  end of  language. In between these tw~  extremes  is another type of
vocabulary that has recently been studied by discourse analysts, a type that
seems to share qualities of both the open and the closed-set words. Let us
consider a paragraph taken from an article in a learned journal:
(3-9)  Here I want to spend some time examining this issue. First I  propose
to look briefly at the history of  interest in the problem, then spend
some time on its origins and magnitude before turning,to  an
assessment of the present situation and approaches to  its solution.
Finally, I want to have a short peek at possible future prospects.
(W.  J. Kyle, Annals of  the GGAS, University of Hong  Kong, 1984, no.  12: 54-66)
What is this article  about? Controlling  pests  on  fruit trees? Designing
examinations for secondary schools?  The possibilities are countless. What
we  are  lacking here  is  the  vocabulary  that would identify  the  fisld  of
discourse. These sentences  tell us a lot about  the structure of  the article, but
nothing  about the author's subject matter. They  tell  us  that  tfie  tenor  is
relatively formal (it is hardly  likely that this  is someone explaining infor-
mally  to a friend why  he/she  has never  liked boiled  eggs),  but with  an
element of  informality ('a  short peek'). They tell us that a problem and its
possible solutions will be examined, and that one part of  the text will deal
with  the past,  another with  the  future. So  the words in our example do
quite a bit of  lexical work (they are not as 'empty'  as grammar words are
often said to be), but, in another sense, we need to seek elsewhere  in the  text
for  their content, what we shall call their lexicalisation.  In our mystery text,
the this of  'this  issue'  tells us that we can look to the preceding text to find
out what the  issue  is;  the  lexical meaning of  issue tells  us  to  look  for
something problematic, something that  is a matter of  public debate, etc.
'The  problem' works  in  a  similar way. Assessment will identify with  a
portion of  the text where something is being judged or evaluated; solution
will be matter which can be counterposed to the 'problem',  and so on. So
these words  stand  in place of  segments of  text  (just as pronouns can); a
segment may  be  a sentence,  several  sentences or a whole paragraph,  or 3.5  Vocabulary and  the organising of text
more. We,  the reader,  (or listener if  our example had been, say, a lecture)
match  the words with  the  segments,  and,  if  we  have decoded  the  text
correctly, can render  an  account of  what  'the  problem'  is,  or what  'the
prospects'  are, according to the author. We shall call w~rds  such as issue,
problem and assessment discourse-organising words,  ska  it is their job  to
organise and structure the argument, rather than am  br its content or
field. They are examples of  the general phenomenon of @ing  discussed
in Chapter 1. Further examples may be seen in this extract:
(3.10)
Week by week the amount of  car traffic on
our roads grows,  13 per  cent in  the  last
year alone.
Each day as I walk  to work,  I see the
ludicrous  spectacle  of  hundreds  of  com-
muters sitting alone in  four or five-seater
cars and  barely  moving  as  fast as I can
walk.
Our  traffic crisis now presents us with
the  classic conservation  dilemma  - too
many  people making too much demand on
inadequate  resources.
There are four possible solutions: One,
provide more resources, in this case build
more  roads  and  car parks; two,  restrict
the availability of  motorised  transport by
artificially raising the price of  vehicles and
fuel;  three, license only those with a good
reason  for needing motorised  transport
and  prohibit unnecessary  use; four, reduce
the average size of motor vehicles, espec-
ially  those used for coinmuting  purposes.
(from Cambridge Weekly News, 22 September 1988, p.  11)
The reader may be curious to know what extract (3.9) was about: in fact
it is a study of  the pollution of Hong Kong's  streams, coastal waters and
seashore. Pollution as a subject could be presented to  the reader in a variety
of ways;  the author might have presented a series of  claims and counter-
claims  about  pollution,  or perhaps  a  general statement  about  types  of
pollution and  then details of these  types. Our  author chooses  to present  it as
a problem, with responses ('approaches')  to  the problem and an euuluation
('assessment')  of  responses, in other words as a problem-solution text (see
section 1.10). This  is clearly signalled  to  the reader in our  quoted extract. So,
as well  as representing  text-segments,  some  of  the  discourse-organising 3  Discourse analysis and vocabulary
words  we  are  examining additionally  give  us  indications  of  the larger
text-patterns the author has chosen, and build up expectations concerning
the shape of the whole discourse.
From this account of  the work of certain words in organising discourses
it will  be  apparent  that  the language learner who has  trouble with such
words may be disadvantaged  in  the struggle to decode the whole text  as
efficiently as possible and as closely as possible to the author's designs. If
the discourse-organising words are seen  as signals of  the author's intent,
then inability to understand them or misinterpretation of  them could cause
problems.
But just how many such words are  there in a language like English? What
is the size of  the task facing  the teacher and learner in this particular lexical
area? Some linguists have attempted to provide answers, but probably no
one has compiled a complete list. Winter  (1977 and  1978) has provided
checklists, which teachers and material writers may find useful, of what he
calls vocabulary 3, a precisely delimited sub-set of  this more general set of
discourse-organising words. Here is a  selection  sf  the  list  from Winter
(1978)  :
(3.11)  achieve, addition, alike, attribute, basis, case, cause, change,
compare, conclude, confirm, consequence, contrast, deny, depend,
differ, distinction, effect, equal, exemplify, explanation, fact, feature,
follow, form, general, grounds, happen, hypothetical, instance,
instrumental,  justification, kind, lead to, manner, matter, means,
method, opposite, point, problem,  real, reason, replace, respect,
result, same, similar, situation, state, thing, time, truth, way, etc.
Francis  (1986) focuses on  what she  calls atzapboric nouns and  gives
extensive examples of nouns that frequently occur to refer back to chunks
of text in the way that 'this issue' did in our  first example. Here is one of her
lists:
abstraction
assumption
comparison
consideration
distortion
evaluation
falsification
hypothesis
illusion
investigation
notion
pipedream
realisation
scenario
analysis
attitude
concept
deduction
doctrine
evidence
fantasy
idea
inference
misinterpretation
opinion
position
reasoning
speculation
approach
belief
concoction
diagnosis
dogma
examination
finding
ideology
insight
mis  judgement
perspective
rationalisation
recognition
supposition
assessment
classification
confusion
distinction
doubt
fabrication
formulation
identification
interpretation
misreading
picture
reading
reflection
surmisal 3.5  Vocabulary and the organising of  text
tenet  theory
viewpoint  vision
thinking  view
(Francis, 1986 15)
Another  useful  source is Jordan  (1984), which  brings together a large
number of  texts and has a vocabulary index. These works are good sources
for teachers and material writers interested in this area, but many teachers
will find it as easy simply to collect examples of such words from the press,
where non-narrative  texts, of the type where the author is presenting views
and  arguments  and  where  such  vocabulary  is  most  readily found,  are
plentiful. In vocational/specialist  courses, the best sources  are  learners' own
subject material.
It might,  at  this point,  be worth reminding ourselves  that  discourse-
organising words  operate  predictively  in text  as well  as  retrospectively:
if  a discourse organiser does  not  already  have  its  lexicalisation  in  the
earlier text we expect it to come later in the text and are on the lookout for
it, at least  the efficient reader  is.  In  (3.10) above, dilemma  and solutions
point  forward  in  the  text  and  are  lexicalised  in the subsequent dis-
course.
Predictive skills are often emphasised in current reading skills materials
(see, for example, Greenall and Swan 1986);  the study of  vocabulary and
discourse organisation offers the possibility of a more structured approach
to this kind of  teaching and practice activity.
Reader activity 4  d
The italicised words  in  the  following texts represent either preceding  or
subsequent segments of  the discourse. Identify those segments by underlin-
ing the appropriate words:
I  am always being asked to agree with the proposition  that the British
are the most anti-intellectual people in Europe. What other European
language contains that withering little phrase 'too clever by  half?
Where else do  thinkers squirm when they are called intellectuals?
Where else is public support for the institutions of  intellectual culture
-  the universities and the subsidised arts  -  so precarious?
Behind these questions lies a deep-seated inferiority complex in  the
post-imperial British middle-classes about the parochial philistinism
of  their culture,  . . .
(Michael  Ignatieff, The Observer, 25 February 1990: 17)
2.  The  issues which emerge have beset the personal social services for
generations -  accountability, relationships with voluntary bodies,
what their role is, for example, but the context is different.
(New  Society, 28 August 1987:  ii) 3  Digo~rse  anulysis and vocabulary
Winter's work, and its extension in that of Hoey (1983),  Jordan (1984)  and
Francis (1986),  raises some interesting questions. First there is the question
of whether it is possible to delimit a procedural vocabulary of  such words
that would  be  useful  for  readerstwriters  over  a wide range of  academic
disciplines involving varied textual subject matters and genres. The notion
of a procedural vocabulary is currently under debate in applied linguistics
(see Widdowson 1983:  924; Robinson 1988).  The  procedural vocabulary is
basically words that enable us to do things with the content-bearing words
or schematic vocabulary. Another unanswered question is what hippens if
the  most  common signalling words  are  not  known  by  the  learner?  Is
coherent textdecoding seriously impaired or are such words  the icing on
the cake, especially  in the case of production? Thirdly, if all languages have
such text-organising vocabulary, can the teaching/learning process capital-
ise on transfer in some way? Are there direct and reliable translations  for
words like point, argument, issue and fact to and from other languages?  Do
languages with cognate words  (e.g.  French  probl&me, Swedish  faktum,
Spanish cuestion) have an advantage here, or do  they harbour false friends?
These questions cannot all be addressed in a book of  this limited scope,
but the vocabulary teacher  and the  learner can  embark on  their  own
research  within  their own situation as  part  of  the  'learning-to-learn'
process.
Look back over the last few pages of  text and note how many times I have
used discourse-organising words to structure my  text. Were,you  conscious
of my use of  them at  .the time of  first reading?  If  solnot, what implications
might this have for how language learners approach reading texts?
3.6  Signalling larger bxlual patterns
So far, the discourse-organising words we have looked at in greatest detail
have been  illustrated in their role of  representing segments of  text, parcel-
ling up phrases and whole sentences. But we also noted in section 3.5  that
they often have a broader textual function too, and that is to signal to  the
reader what larger textual patterns  are being realised. We shall now look
further at this phenomenon.  In  section  1.10, we  saw an  illustration  of  a
problem-solution pattern.  Discourse  organisets often  contribute  to our
awareness that a problemsolution pattern is being malised. In the follow-
ing texts,  items have been  picked out in bold  to exemplify this point.  In 3.6  Signalling  larger textual patterns
the first example, only the headline,  the first paragraph and-the  last para-
graph of a rather  long newspaper atiicle are given to show how organising
words have been used  to 'wrap  round'  a long problem-solution  text:
(3.13)  Headline  TV Violence: No Simple Solution
Opening sentence  There is no doubt that one of  the major concerns
of both viewers and broadcasters  is the amount
and nature of violence on our television screens.
(main  text)
Closing sentence  The chief 'lesson'  of all our viewing,  reading and
discussion is that there is no simple solution to
the problem of violence on television.
(The Observer, 16 November 1986: 42)
The words in bold predict (solution in the headline, concern) and reinforce
(solution,  problem)  the  problem-solution pattern  of  the  longer  text
(omitted here for space reasons), in which various responses to the problem
of television violence are discussed and evaluated.
(3.14)  In  the past, the search for other
worlds has  been  hamrered  by
two  factors.  First,  planets  are
tiny  objects  compared  with
stars:  for  instance,  the  sun,  a
typical  star, is  300,000  times
more  massive  than  the  Earth.
Second, planets do not shine but
only  reflect  light dimly kom stars.
But Dr  Campbell and  his col-
leagues got  round  this  problem
by using high-resolution spectro-
scopy  to  measure accurately
variations in a star's  light. Slight
differences  in  a  star's  light
showed  that  many  were  being
pushed  and  pulled  out  of  their
paths by unseen planets.
(from The Observer, 5 July 1987, p. 4)
Here both problem  and hampered contribute  to activating  the  problem-
solution pattern, while got round indicates a positively evaluated response.
We can now begin  to see that a number of  vocabulary  items character-
istically cluster round the elements of  larger patterns  in  texts. Words that
often  occur  in  the environments  of  the  elements  of  problem-solution
patterns include the following:
Problem concern, difficulty, dilemma, drawback, hamper,
hindterlance), obstacle, problem, snag
Response change, combat (vb),  come up with, develop, find,
measure(s),  respon(d/se)
Solutionlresult  answer, consequence, effect, outcome, result,  solution,
(re)solve
Evaluation  (in)effective, manage, overcome,  succeed,  (un)successful,
viable, work  (vb)
Likewise, other  items characteristically cluster  round the elements of claim- 3  Discourse analysis and vocabulary
counterclaim (or 'hypothetical-real')  patterns, items such as claim, assert,
state, mcth, false, in  fact, in reality, etc. Such words have been picked out  in
the following text:
(3.15)  HisWhs  are  !merally  l!ES!
Brltishsodetyisfwndedona~
, .
-,bUtthq(m-d&@dthe
origins of  that ph#asophy.  Some trace  it
badctothemiddleages,othersW~to
theriseof~~.Butthe~
isthatthe~ofthissodetyhas
been the nudearfamily-where man the
breadwkHler  hokls  dominance  ouer  hi
dependent  wife and children. The  vaiues
of  individual freedom, self-reliance,  indi-
vidualadvancementandcroclally,the
&i@hn  of  farnity  duty  to  look  after
one's own  in time of  need are  central  to
its  qwatkn.  Within  sbict  limits  and
under  careful  regulation,  helping  those
less  fortunate than oneself has been
as part of  the individual's obligation  to
society.
But,althoughmostwould~that
thssevalueshavemdomi,thgc
would  also achw&&  thztt the devel-
OQmentofcapitalist~Sawthe
parallel  growttr  of  anoahec  idedogy.
Against  individualism with  its  emphasis
on individual  freedom  has  been m-
terPosed collectivism with  its egalitarian
values,andstressonthebIjadlthatone
individual's freedom  cannot be  paid  for
by  lhe denial of  keecknn  to to.  The
19th  century  growth  of  trades unions,
the cooperative  movement and organised
socialkt  political  rovements  are  all
Mm  of  this opposition tu dominant
idedogy. Because  of  this  recognition
of  colledhre  rights  and  responsibil-
ities,  feminists  have  always
granting  and  safeguarding  of  women's
rim  as  lying  within  this  socialist
tradition.
(from New Society, 28 August 1987, p. 10)
Jordan (1984)  is a useful work for  teacherslmaterial writers wishing to  look
at how  particular  vocabulary  items have  a  tendency  to  cluster  in  each
different segment of text-patterns such as the problemsolution pattern. He
gives reference lists for the many textual examples he presents in his book
and has a coding  system for whether particular words  typically occur in the
'problem'  section  or wherever.  Part  of  his word list  for  the  claim  and
counterclaim (or hypothetical-real)  pattern is listed below:
(3.16)  Whenever a writer needs to  indicate doubt or uncertainty he uses a
signal of hypotheticalicy to indicate this. Here are examples of such
signalling words in the examples.
according to  estimated  might  seems
apparently  .evidently  old wives'  tale  should
appears1  expected  perhaps  signs
-ably  forecast  potential  so-called
believes  imagine  probably  speculation
claimed  likely  promises to be  suggests
considered  look  reported  thought  -
could  may  says
(Jordan 1981: 148) 3.6  Signalling larger textuu! patterns
These recurrent  features  of  textual  patterning  may be  exploited  in
vocabulary teachindearning as a todown  phenomenon: once conscious
of  a larger text-pattern, the learner can be brought to an awareness of  the
rich vein of  vocabulary that regularly realises it. As a bottom-up  phenom-
enon, learners can bring together  in  their vocabulary  records items  that
regularly occur%  similar textual environments, e.g.  dK  typical  'response'
vocabulary of problemsolution patterns. Such lists can be added to over
time to build up a rich, textually-based lexicon. It is yet another alternative
to  the  random  vocabulary list  and the  decontextualised, semantically-
motivated list.
Pick  out words  in  the following texts which are strongly associated with
either the problemsolution pattern or the claim-counterclaim pattern:
1.  All western countries face a crisis in coping with
the demands made on  welfare provision by their
growing  elderly  populations.  The  problem  of
resource scarcity  is a real one.  But perhaps not
all  countries  have  adopted  so  rigorously  [as
Britain]  the view  that care  should be based on  the
family model.
Scandinavia,  for example, provides residential
facilities for elderly people not wishing to remain
at home or to  live with their families, and  those
facilities  are often  available  for  use  by  local
pensioners on  a daily basis. Elderly people in  the
United States  have  developed  communities  of
their  own,  supporting each  other  and  running
them by themselves, as their answer to increas-
ing  dependency.  Some  have  argued  against
these 'age-dense' solutions,  likening  them  to
ghettos,  but research suggests a high degree of
consumer satisfaction.
Examples  from  other  camtries  demonstfate
that  there  are  abrnaMve  ways  of  tackling  the
issues  of  caring  and  dependency.  The  family
model of  care with the high demands made on
women  and  lack of  choice and  frequent  loneli-
ness  for the  dependents is not the only solution.
(from New  Society, 28 August 1987, p. 12)  3)-+ 3  Discourse analysis and vocabulary
2.  Local authorities believe Wgly  in the  involve-
ment of the public sector and the need  for public
planning. They  think that it is more important  to
protect  jobs which are already  in their area than
to attract more from outside. And since they hold
that  productim  is the key  to economic  revival,
they think it is more important to sustain rnanu-
facturing  industry than  to switch to alternatives,
such as  the service industry.
Central government, on the other hand, places
more faith  in the  private sector  for  its schemes,
and  it  considers  that  public planning  hinders
rather than  helps  redevelopment. It usually dis-
misses  planning  as  'red  tape'.  Government  is
also more  interested in attracting new jobs  than
protecting dd ones. Above all,  it believes that the
market  decides  what  sort of  job  should  and
should not be done.
(from New Society, 28 August 1987,  p. 20)
3.7  Register and signalling vocabulary
In  claiming that particular vocabulary items tend  to cluster round certain
elements of  text patterns we are ignoring the important fact that  register
(see page 32) is closely  tied  to lexical selection. Among the signals of  the
problem  element we proposed problem, drawback and snag  (see page 79).
Clearly we might not expect to find snag occurring in this way in a formal
scientific  report,  nor  perhaps  come up  with  as  a  signpost  for  response
(develop would be a more predictable choice). Therefore, as  in all matters,
the relationship between vocabulary and  register needs to be brought out
when  studying  textual  signalling.  Lexical  choice within  the  identified
clusters will depend on  the con text (textbook, mazagine, news report, etc.),
the author's assumptions about the audience (cultured/educatdreaders  of
the popular tabloid press, etc.) whether the style is  to be read as  'written'  or
'spoken',  and so on. Most of  the texts we have looked at so  far have been
toward  the  'written/formal/cultured' end of  the spectrum. Mere  are two
more, this time with a more informal, colloquial tone. They are presented
to illustrate  the fact that discourse-signalling  words need not necessarily be
only rather 'dry'  academic words taken from the Graeco-Latin vocabulary
of English. The relevant words are underlined: 3.7  Register and signalling vocabulary
Put ordinary exterior varnish on your doors and window frames and in no
time at all you'll wish you hadn't.
Wood shrinks and stretches when the temperature and humidity changes.
Ordinary varnish, doesn't,  so it cracks.
If you don't  strip it off and start again you'll  be in real trouble, your wood
will be open to attack from fungus and rot, and quite frankly, it will look
awful.
(Advertisement for Cuprinol from The Observer, 12  July 1987, p. 5)
Alongside more neutral items like develop and reduce the risk are  informal,
direct addresses to the reader: you'll  wish you  hadn't  and quite frankly,  it
will look awful which create a pseudo-conversational register in which the
element of problem  is realised.
(3.18)  Decide to tackle that tiublesome moss
on your lawn and you could find yourself
going round and around in circles. Or at
least backwards  and  forwards  to your
local garden  centre.
Conventional moss treatments  sim~ly
keep moss away for any  length of
time.  You  apply  it  and  shortly  after-
wards your moss blackens and dies. You
thtnk  all  of  vow worries are over. Far
from it. The little so  and so's will turn up
a  as  sure as  the  proverbial  bad
penny.
You're  back  where  vou  started.
And  left  with  the choice  of  getting
down on your hands and knees to weed
it out or  traipsing off  to  the shops for
some more moss  treatment.
So if you want to save vourself heart-
ache,  backache  and  a  considerable
amount  of  shoe-leather,  insist  on
Lawnsrnan Mosskiller  from  ICI.  Youll
be  rewarded with a moss-free lawn for
the  rest of  the season.
Mix the sachet with water, stir, and
sprinkle over your lawn. It's  that simple.
(from The Observer Magazine, 6 April 1986, p.  12)
Here idiomatic phrases  are used as signals of  the  response and  its occur-
rence  after a  previous  negatively  evaluated  response  ('conventional
treatments'). Idioms are often a problem for the teacher  insomuch as it  is
not always easy to find natural contexts in which to present them. Research
by Moon (1987)  suggests  that writers and speakers use idiomatic phrases to
organise their discourse and to signal evaluation, far more frequently than
previous linguistic studies of  idiomaticity have suggested. Idioms are good
metaphors  for  the  kinds  of  textual  segments we have  been  looking  at
(problem/response,  etc.).  Consider  how  some  of  the  following  could  be
used  in informal discourses  to suggest the problem-solution pattern:
(to  be)  in a fix  to be up against a brick wall
to come up trumps  (sth)  does the trick
to have a crack at (doing something)  to have a brainwave
(to  be) up a gum  tree
Speakers and writers  use these  in  informal situations to perform  the same
kind of  organising and signalling functions that  the more formal vocabu-
lary does in written argumentation. 3  Discourse analysis and vocabulary
We can now begin to see  just how important certain vocabulary items are
in organising discourses. Admittedly, we have concentrated on reporting,
expository and argumentative  texts, but learners frequently have to tackle
quite daunting and  lengthy examples  of  these  in  their textbooks,  and
syllabus specifications often demand  -that they  be  studied. They are pre-
cisely the types of text that come festooned with comprehension questions
in  coursebooks and  exams,  and are  regularly  cited  as  being 'difficult',
'boring'  and 'demotivating'  for students by teachers. They are  the texts  that
are hardest  to  unpack.  Significantly,  the  kind  of  discourse-organising
vocabulary that has occurred in most of  our example texts,  the Graeco-
Latin words found in argumentation and exposition, is typical of  the kind
of  vocabulary that research has claimed produces a 'lexical bar',  a serious
obstacle to progress in education, for children learning their first language
(see  Corson  1985). We  should  not  underestimate the difficulties second
language learners may experience with these words, particularly those who
do not come from a Romance- or Germanic-language background.
Discourse-organising words  are  best  presented  and  practised  in  their
natural contexts. Sintply looking them up in a monolidgual dictionary can
lead to a circularity of abstract definitions. Note how even a good, modern
learner's  dictionary like  the Collins COBUILD  (1987) dictionary defines
problem  in terms of difficulty,  and difficulty  in terms of pro6lem:
(3.19)  problem  /pr~blam/,  probk.
1  A problem is 1.1 a situation
or a state of affairs  that causes
diaculties for people, so that
they  try  to  think of  a way to
deal with  it. EG. ...  how fami-
lies can try to solve these prob-
lems..  .  .  .  .the  social problems
in modern society... I think  we
may  have  a problem  here  ...
She  has  a  weight  problem  ...
The problem  is  that  she  can't
cook.
difkdty  /Wa'ltia/,  difkul-
ties.  1 A  dif&&y  is  some-
thing  that  is  a  ptoblem  for
you. EG. There are  lots of  dif-
ficulties that have  to  be  over-
come.  .. The main dimulty is a
shortage of time.
2  If  something  causes  dif6-
cnlty,  it  causes problems
because it is not easy to do or
understand.  EG.  This  can
cause  di!ulty..  . . .  .questions
of varying difiulty.
(from Collins COBUlLD EngliJh Language Dictionary, pp.  1143,391)
One  contribution  that  the study  of  vocabulary in naturally occurring
discourses has made  is  to point up  the  all-pervasiveness of  modality  in
spoken and written language. Modality is often thought of  as the province
of  the closed class of modal verbs.  (must, can, will, may,  etc.) and treated as
part  of  the grammar  of  English,  but  a large number of  'lexical'  words 3.8  Modality
(nouns, adjectives, verbs and adverbs) carry the same or similar meanings
to  the modal  verbs.  For  this reason,  modality  is  dealt with here  in  our
chapter on vocabulary rather than  in Chapter 2.
Two notable studies of modality  in  large amounts of discourse, Holmes
(1983) and Hermerin  (1978),  show a wide range of uses of  the traditional
class of modal verbs and of  a vocabulary of  lexical items carrying modal
meanings,  from the classic epistemic modality (concerned with degrees of
certainty  and  possibility)  to  the  root  modalities  (volition,  permission,
obligation). Both Holmes's  and Hermerkn's  data show that, put together,
other word classes express modality more frequently than modal verbs. The
vocabulary  of  modality  includes verbs  such  as  appear,  assume,  doubt,
guess,  look  as  if, suggest,  think, adverbs  such  as  actually,  certainly,
inevitably,  obviously, possibly,  and nouns and adjectives related  to them
(for a  full list,  see Holmes  1988). In  terms  of  frequency,  the  verbs  and
adverbs are considerably more frequent than the nouns and adjectives.
All  these  words carry  important  information  about  the  stance  and
attitude of  the  sender  to  the message;  they  are concerned with  assertion,
tentativeness,  commitment, detachment and other crucial aspects of  inter-
personal meaning (as opposed to ideational, or content, meanings). In  the
Hallidayan model of  register they form a part of the tenor of the discourse.
If  we take a  later part of one of our earlier texts, extract (3.10), we can see
how modal vocabulary  represents  another  aspect  of  discoursal meaning
over and above the organisational and more general signalling vocabulary
already analysed. Modal items are picked out in bold:
(3.20)  Inevitably, objections will be,raised  to the promotion of the motor
cycle as the saviour of  our environment.
It  is dangerous: it can be  but  three-fifths of all serious motor
cycling accidents are caused by cars. So, by  transferring some drivers
from cars to motor cycles, the risk can immediately be reduced.
Department of Transport statistics have shown that a car driver is
nine times more likely to take someone else with him in an accident
than a motor cyclist, so riding a motor cycle is actually making a
contribution  to road safety.
(Cambridge WeekJy News, 22 September 1988: 11)
Discourse analysts have demonstrated that modality  is fundamental in the
creation of discourse; all messages choose some degree of modality, even if
it is only to make a neutral choice of bald assertion  (e.g.  'The cat sat on the
mat',  as compared with  the heavily modalised  'I  suppose it's  possible the
cat  just may  have  sat on the mat'). Language teachers have always paid
attention  to the modal  verbs but, Holmes  (1988) shows,  in  her  survey of
four ESL  textbooks,  that  the  larger  vocabulary  of modal  lexical items is
often under-represented  in teaching materials, and there does seem to be a
need to redress the balance in light of what natural data shows. 3  Discourse analysis and vocabulary
Reader activity 7  d
Underline words conveying modality in this text:
.FOOD  AND  HEALTH
Can citrus
peel harm?
Didyaulrnavthadlrnnmrd
Qmgepaelisdwithwax
and chemids?
Thetskinofalmostallcitrus
fmit sold in  the UK  is imated
with fungicides  to stop it going
ddy.  And th43  glossy
surEaceistbsresultof~
the fruitin wax
Could tb  fungicides used
on  citrus peel be harmful  -
particularlysince~ssonae
evih~btory~
that, in sufikht  quantities,
*mayprod--=
mutations in animals?
~GovemmentdoesnYfeel
tbmisanynsedtoworry
because the levels d  fungicide
permittad ate  very law.  The
levels are  based on  the
semmmhtiws  af  UK  and
htematioaal advimybodias
for  the rrmount that can  be
cod  daily without any
t&dfkweffed
(from Which?  January 1989, p. 4)
The  study  of  vocabulary in discourse is concerned with patterns  in  text
generated  by  the  vocabulary  relations that  are  found  over clause  and 3.9  Conclusion
sentence boundaries, the role of certain words in organising discourses and
signalling their  structure,  and  the  relationship  between these features  of
textuality and. the register of the end product. Such an approach also offers
an alternative motivation for the construction of word lists to supplement
the traditional  semantic-field  orientation. Students  themselves  can be
encouraged  to  collect items  along  discourse-functional lines,  something
which becomes more and more important as  they embark on composition
writing  and argumentation in general,  and something which can offer an
organised backdrop in learning areas normally lefi to organise themselves.
Once more,  though,  the whole  enterprise depends  on  adapting what  is
useful  in  discourse  analysis  to  current  practices,  and  on  teachers  and
material writers paying greater attention to  the insights offered by naturally
occurring data.
Further reading
The standard work on lexical cohesion is Halliday ad  Hasan  (1976); Hasan has
since revised their model (see especially 1984).
Overall, not much research has been done on vocabulary and discourse, but further
discussion of  instantial relations may be  found  in McCarthy  (1987 and  1988),
and in Carter and McCarthy  (1988: Ch. 5).
Cruse's  (1975 and  1977) papers on hyponymy  are innovative in  that  they  look at
language in  use,  while  P. H.  Fries  (1986) and  Ellis  (1987) look  at  instantial
synonymy.
On the  use  of  superordinates  in  discourse, Wisniewski  and  Murphy  (1989) is
interesting.
McCarthy  (1990) looks  at  further vocabulary features  that  cluster  around  text-
organising words,  and Lindeberg  (1986) links lexical  relations with  thematic
development  in  text.
A  further paper  that considers the re-entering of  full  noun phrases as opposed  to
pronouns is Hinds (1979).
Benson  and Greaves  (1973: 54-68) offer practical  suggestions  for  the analysis of
lexical  relations  in  texts,  based  on  the  idea  of  lexical  sets,  and  their  paper on
'field  of  discourse'  (1981)  ties up the Hallidayan  idea  of  collocation with  the
topics and institutional focuses of  texts.
For more on topics as negotiated by participants  see Richards and Schmidt  (1983),
and Brown and Yule (1983:  89).
Hoey (forthcoming)  contains a thorough analysis and a novel view of the function-
ing of  lexical cohesion.
King (1989)  takes further the discussion of discourse-organising vocabulary.
Stubbs (1986)  is a good, general paper on modality  in discourse.
For more on modality see Perkins (1983)  and Westney (1986) Alice felt  even more indignant at
this suggestion.  'I mean,'  she
said,  'that  one  can't help
growing older.'
'One  can't,  perhaps,' said
'
Humpty Dumpty, 'but two can.'
Lewlr Carroll:  ~~  fhe Leaking
GIsse
Under  the heading of phonology in this chapter we shall  take a brief look at
what has traditionally been thought of  as  'pronunciation', but devote most
of  our attention  to  intonation. This  is  partly  because  the most  exciting
developments in the analysis of  discourse have been  in intonation studies
rather than  at  the  segmental  level  (the  study  of  phonemes  and  their
articulation) and  partly  because  intonation  teaching, where  it has  taken
place, has proceeded on the basis of assumptions that are open to challenge
from a discourse analyst's viewpoint.
4.2  Pronunciation
Traditional pronunciation teaching has found its strength in the ability of
linguists  to  segment  the sounds  of  language  into  discrete items  called
pbonemes  which, when  used  in  the  construction  of  words, produce
meaningful contrasts with other words  (e.g.  the phonemes /p/  and /b/  in
English give us contrasts such as pump and bump, pat and bat, .etc.), The
position and manner of articulation of phonemes in a language like English
are well described and can be presented and practised in language classes
either  as isolated sounds,  in words, in  contrasting pairs  of  words or  in
minimal contexts. Such  features will  probably long  remain  the srock-in-
trade of  pronunciation teaching and,  if  well done, can undoubtedly help
leaners with difficulties. 4.2  Pronunciation
Seen  from the  viewpoint  of  connected stretches of  naturally occurring
discourse,  the problem  becomes more complex. When words follow one
another in speech, phonemes may undergo considerable changes. A simple
example  is  the difference between  the normal spoken rendition of  'good
evening'  [gadi:vn~rj],  and that of  'good  morning'  [gabm~:nrg].  The Id/ of
the citation form  of good  (the way  the word  is said when isolated, out of
context)  becomes  more  like  a  /b/  when  it  precedes  the  bilabial  /m/  of
morning. As G. Brown  (1977:  57)  puts it: 'every consonant and every vowel
will  be affected  by  its  neighbouring consonants  and  vowels  and  by  the
rhythmic structure  in which it occurs.' Brown lists many examples of  such
assimilations,  and  of  elisions  (where sounds  from  the  citation form  are
'missed  out'  in connected  speech: 'most  men' will be said without a It/ in
natural, conversational speech).
Reader  activity 1 d
Assimilations and elisions
Consider how the following would be articulated in informal conversation
in  Standard  British English  (or,  if  you  speak  another  variety, in  that
variety). What changes would  take place  to the way  the pronunciation  of
the individual words in  isolation are represented in dictionaries?
1.  ten or eleven months ago
2.  I asked him what went on
3.  not her! not Mary!
4.  considering my age, I  ran miles
Good advanced learners of English use assimilations and elisions naturally,
but a surprising number of  quite advanced learners continue to articulate
the citation-form phonemes of English words in casual, connected speech.
This will not usually cause problems of communication but is undoubtedly
a contributing factor in 'foreign accent',  and  there may be a case for explicit
intervention  by  the  teacher  to  train students in  the use of  the most com-
monly occurring assimilations and elisions by practising pronunciation  in
(at  least minimal) contexts. Alternatively,  the answer may be to tackle the
problem simultaneously from a 'top-down'  and 'bottomup'  approach, on
the premise  that articulation, rhythmicality  (see below) and intonation are
inextricably linked,  and that good intonation will have a washback effect
on articulation  in  terms of  reduced and altered articulations of  individual
phonemes, alongside  the  specific  teaching  of  phonemes  and  the  most
common altered and reduced forms. 4  Discourse analysis and phonology
In  some  respects  the  most  neglected  aspect  of  the  teaching  of  pro-
nunciation  has been  the  relationship  between  phoneme articulation and
other,  broader  features  of  connected  speech.  Pennington  and  Richards
(1986) argue  that  pronunciation  is  important as an  aspect of  discourse-
oriented language teaching and that three areas, or  components, should be
addressed:  segmental features, voice-setting features,  and  prosodic
(intonational) features. The segmental, or phoneme-based, view of  teach-
ing, they argue, needs to be supplemented by concern with 'general articu-
latory characteristics of  stretches of  speech'.  These include voice-setting
features, such as,  for  example,  the  general  tendency  towards  retroflex
articulation  in  Indian speakers  of  English,  which  can  cause  persistent
difficulties  for the non-Indian listener. The prosodic component consists of
stress  and intonation.  Pennington  and  Richards  see  pronunciation  as  a
constellati~n  of features manifested not  just in the articulation of particular
phonemes but in the stream of connected speech that is natural discourse.
Things  such  as  voice-setting  features  are difficult  to  tackle,  and  are
largely ignored in present-day teaching materials, but advice  to  learners on
the typical settings of  the speech organs that give each language its unique
character when heard can help  to improve  the overall sound of the learner's
performance.  In  fact, Honikman  (1964) advocates establishing the voice-
setting first, and  then  the details of  articulation,  thus taking a top-down
approach.
4.3  Rhythm
When we  listen to a stretch of  spoken English discourse, we often feel that
there is a rhythm or regularity to it, which  it a characteristic sound,
different  from other  languages and  not  always well-imitated  by  foreign
learners. The  impression of rhythm may arise out of a feeling  of  alternation
between strong and weak  'beats'  in various patterned  recurrences:
/  -- /  -  -  /--
(4.1)  Most of  the people were visitors.
-1-  1-  /  -1
(4.2)  A friend of mine has bought a boat.
-  /  --  /  /  --  I
(4.3)  A week  at the seaside  is just what I  need.
Brown (1977)  found such recurring patterns in her recordings of  broadcast
talk. But other natural  speech is often not as regular as this, nor will  the
patterns necessarily  recur  in  the same way at different times.  If we dip at
random into natural data, we find stretches such as:
-  /  --- I /-I
(4.4)  and the speed limit was five miles an hour 4.3  Rhythm
-  - -  /
(4.5)  there was a sharp turn at  the end of  this village
(Author's data  1989)
Sometimes, in order to capture a  felt rhythmicality, we can mark silent
beats to maintain the rhythm:
-  -  /  --  /  (--)I-  -
(4.6)  there's a house over there,  isn't there
Another way of  looking at this  is  to say that utterances can be divided  up
into groups of syllables  that have more or  less the same duration, called feet
(a  foot  as  a  unit  must  contain  one  stressed syllable). Within  each foot,
syllables will be  'stretched  out'  or 'squeezed  together',  depending on how
many there are, to maintain the rhythmic time span, as in:
i/i/  i  /  i  /  i
(4.7)  j  This is  the  !  one that  Frank  j  bought  /
where the first foot has two weak beats, the second has one, and the third
and fourth have none, but where all the feet are perceived  to be of more or
less the same duration.
Reader activity 2  d
Imagine  contexts  for  these  utterances  and  then  mark  them with  /  for
stressed beats and -  for unstressed beats:
1.  What's  the matter with Mary?
2.  I knew she would come in the end.
3.  Put salt on those chips if  you want to.
4.  He works on a farm, doesn't  he?
In  fact,  instrumental analysis may reveal  that the  'beats'  are anything but
precisely  regular  in  real  time and as we shall see, there are problems with
such an account of  rhythm. Nonetheless, the overall experience of  rhythm
is often still present.  This general feeling we shall refer to as rhythmicality
(see Couper-Kuhlen  1986: 55).
Traditionally, rhythm has been considered an important element in  the
teaching  of  spoken  English.  This  is  probably  due  to two main  factors.
Firstly,  there does  seem  to  be  rhythmicality  in  varying degrees  in  long
stretches of speech, especially carefully considered deliveries such as broad-
cast talks, fluent reading aloud, speeches and monologues, as well as some
ordinary conversation.  Secondly,  the concept of English  as a stress-timed 4  Discourse analysis and phonology
language, deeply  rooted  in  theoretical  and applied  linguistics,  has dorni-
nated approaches  to the teaching of rhythm.
To  take the second factor first,  the notion that the  languages  of  the world
can be  classified according to rhythmic criteria  has persisted  throughout
this century. The principal distinction  is made between stress-timing and
syllable-timing. Broadly speaking, languages such as English  and Arabic
are said to have more or less equal time spans  (or interstresses) between
stressed syllables, so that any intervening syllables, the number of  which
may vary, are made to fit into the available space between stresses. Stressed
syllables are  longer in duration  than  unstressed ones. Languages such as
French  and Spanish, on  the other hand, have regular syllable length  for
both stressed and unstressed syllables, and are  thus  timed according to  their
syllables, or syllable-timed. While this distinction may correspond to some
strongly felt perception of  the different characteristic rhythms of  languages,
there is little hard instrumental evidence  for  it. In fact, in recent years, quite
a  lot  of  convincing counter-evidence  has  been  presented.  Dauer  (1983)
examined data in English, Thai, Spanish,  Italian and Greek, and concluded
that interstress intervals were no more regular in English than in Spanish, a
so-called sylla  ble-timed language, and several other investigations  similarly
challenge the  stress-timedlsyllable-timed  distinction  (e.g.  Borzone  de
Manrique and Signorini 1983). We are forced to conclude, therefore, that
the notion that English is stress-timed is unproven, and that perceptions of
rhythmicality may  have their origins in  other phenomena  of  connected
speech.  The  lack  of  evidence  anyway undermines those teaching
approaches that advocate training in reproducing utterances according to
carefully  timed beats on stressed syllables, using metronomes, table-tapping
or hand-clapping (e.g. Greenwood 1981).
Bolinger (1986: 37-45) attempts  to simplify  the  timing of interstresses  and
to account  for rhythmicality with  a few basic rules,  and his account has
been  advocated  as a basis  for  the  teaching  of  rhythm  by  Faber  (1986).
Bolinger's  description  is based on the idea  that English has two kinds of
vowels,  fbll  and  reduced.  The  reduced vowels  are  schwa  /a/,  /z/  as  in
'silliness',  /el as in 'soloist,  and 'syllabic'  consonants (e.g.  'rabble').  Other
vowels are full vowels. Full (F)  and reduced (R)  correspond  to syllable  types
which can be called long (L) and short (S). For example:
(4.81  an  unforgettable person
R F  R F R  R F R  (vowels)
S  L S  LSS  LS  (syllables)
Bolinger's rule is simple:  if an F is followed by another F or  by a pause, then
the first F becomes 'extra'-long  (LL);  compare the syllable rhythms of seller
and sell-by: 4.3  Rhythm
(4.9)  the seller's advice
F R
L S
(4.10)  the sell-by advice
F  F
LL L
It must  be  noted  that Bolinger  is  talking about  the  timing  of  the whole
syllable,  not  the extending  or drawling  of  the  vowel.  Another  way  of
articulating the rule  is  that LL  is the norm for full-vowelled syllables, but
when followed by any S, the S  'borrows' time from LL, making it only L, as
in hat-box and hatter:
(4.11)  hat-box  hatter
LL  L L  S
Reader activity 3 t.8
Analyse the following utterances according to Bolinger's  principles, label-
ling them with F and R for vowel-types and LL, L and S for syllable-types.
Then try a  loud  reading of  the phrases.  Does Bolinger's  system produce a
natural rendition?
1.  Which hat shall Jo wear to the drinks party?
2.  I met Bill Smith in  town  at lunchtime.
3.  A bottle of mineral water.
'Borrowing',  as  illustrated  in  (4.11), means  that  rhythmic  groups  of
approximately the same duration  are produced  in connected  speech. The
theory  is appealing in  its relative simplicity, but it suffers from a worrying
circularity  in  that  reduced vowels  are  only  reduced because they  are
unstressed, whereas Bolinger's rule tends  to take the question of  stress out
of  the equation.  The  traditional  stress-timing  view,  despite its  short-
comings, recognises that vowel length and quality are dependent on stress.
It is  also  difficult  to  see  how  such  rules  could  be  transferred  into  the
language class except in  the form of practice in  repeating small chunks of
ready-made language  of  phrase-  or clause-length  in  the  hope  that  some
underlying competence will develop that can be transferred to the situation
of  natural  speech production.  Faber's  optimism on  the  classroom  appli-
cability of Bolinger's  theory may be somewhat misplaced.
It seems then  that  there  is some basis  in  the notion of  rhythmicality,  if
only as an as yet ill-described characteristic of English, but it is difficult to 4  D&course  analysis and phonology
see  how the stress-timing notion can be of much direct use in the language
class where the emphasis is on natural discourse.
Not  enough is  yet  known  about  rhythmicality  in  talk,  or  what  its
functions, if  any, might be,  and speculation abounds.  Some phonologists
feel  that,  in  spoken interaction,  the  rhythm a .speaker establishes  and
conforms to represents an underlying tsmpo (basically  the pace or speed of
speech,  just  like  the  relationship  between  rhythm and  tempo in music),
which governs interaction and which gives important clues to participants
concerning things such as turn-taking  (Scollon 1982). Others see a different
organising function in rhythm, in the dividing of information into coherent
chunks for the listener (Taylot 1981), and yet others have argued for the
importance of the role of rhythm in the overall perception of stresses  on the
part  of  the  listener  (Gumperz 1982: 109). But  .none  of  these  accounts  is
entirely convincing.
The  idea of stress-timing  has been reinforced by a phonological tradition
concerned with analysing literary  texts,  careful readings,  broadcast  talks
and the like. Natural conversation certainly does mt  lend  itself  to regular
rhythm-tapping,  even  though the  flow  of  talk  is -punctuated (often  reg-
ularly) with  perceived  stresses,  and  the  business  of  spontaneous  speech
production hardly  gives  time  for  careful rhythmic pre-planning  and
'keeping the beat'  (even more so for the non-native speaker struggling with
all  the other encoding difficulties). Rhythm  training in  the classroom can
only work with textual products rather than the process of creating rhyth-
mic talk, and, indeed, forcing learners to indulge in artificially 'cramming'
stressed  and  unstressed syllables  into  a regular rhythm  may  take  their
attention away from the genuinely interactive aspects of stress, not least the
speaker's choice  as  to what  is  to  be  stressed  and what  not.  It  is  to  the
interactive arena of where and when stress is placed that we next turn.
4.4  Word stress and prominence
At this point,  it is useful to change our terminology slightly and introduce
the term prominence. Syllables which stand out  in the flow of talk, because
the speaker has uttered them with relatively greater intensity, or duration,
or  pitch  variation compared  with  surrounding  syllables  (and  our  per-
ception  of  this  phenomenon  will  usually  be  due  to  a  variety  of  such
features), will be referred to as prominent syllables  (see Brazil 1985a and b).
It is helpful to have this special term, prominence, so  as not to confuse word
stress, which  words bear in their  citation  forms (sometimes called  their
isolate pronunciations), with what concerns us most here:  the choice of the
speaker to make certain words salient by  giving prominence to syllables.
This  is  therefore a more precise use of  the term prominence than is found in
some sources (e.g.  Cruttenden 1986: 7). 4.4  Word stFess and prominence
A  word  such  as lapanese  in  citation form would  have  a  word-stress
profile of:
where 1  represents so-called primary stress, and 2 secondary stress. But it is
clear  that  prominence  can  occur  differently  on  these  two  syllables,  or
indeed not at all, depending on the speaker's  choice as to where  the main
stress  (the 'sentence  stress',  or 'tonic') is placed in the utterance;  the main
stresses are underlined.
(4.13)  Actually, she's iapaNESE
(4.14)  a JApanese SHIP-owner's been KIJnapped
(4.15)  i thought SHE. was japanese, NOT HIM
So word stress, as it is traditionally  understood, and prominence, as we
shall use it here, are two distinct levels. Where they overlap, of course, is in
the fact that prominences may not be distributed just anywhere in the word,
but may only fall on certain syllables. Where two prominences can occur in
the  same word,  as is often  the  case with a whole class of  words such  as
IApanESE, UNiVERsal, conGRAtuLAtions, etc., the second will always be
the stronger. Thus Japanese may commonly  receive prominence on ]A  or
NESE or both, but will  rarely  if  ever be realised as jaPAnese. Many other
polysyllabic words may only have one  prominence but may still have primary
12  1  2  1  2
and  secondary  word  stress  (e.g.  CAtalyst,  CONfiscate, WHEREabouts).
So,  when  describing a word  in  a dictionary entry  we  can  state which
syllables are prone to prominence and which are not:
(4.16)  UNemPLOYED  she's UNemPLOYED
an UNemployed WORker
not:  * she's unEMployed
CONfiDENtial  this is VEry confiDENtia1
a CONfidential MEmo
not:  * a conFIdential memo
For the  learner of  English,  information  about which syllables may  be
prominent is useful;  it is a natural part of  the lexical competence of native
speakers.  In  this regard, the traditional distinction between primary  stress
and  secondary stress  (see above) may  be misleading,  and  it may .be more
helpful simply  to indicate  to the  learner which syllables are prominence-
prone  (as Brazil's  system of  annotation  in  the Collins COBUILD  (1987)
dictionary does,  for example). Otherwise,  the  learner may be misled  into
&nking  that primary and secondary stress must be maintained at all costs.
Thus Swan and Walter's  (1984: 9) citation-form  stress patterns for nation-
ality  words  such  as japaNESE  are all right when  the word  is  spoken  in
isolation, or in a context such as  (4.13), but not for (4.14) (see above). 4  Discourse analysis and phonology
For the following list of words, do as in the example: first mark primary
and  secondary word  stress,  and then indicate,  by  underlining,  which
syllable or syllables may  be made prominent in discourse.  For example:
2  1
confrontational  CONfronutional
1.  disused
2.  complicated
3.  application
4.  dinosaur
4.5  The placing of prominence
When and why do  speakers attach prominence to syllables and, thereby, to
the words  that  contain  those  syllables  in  their utterances? Consider  the
following:
\
(4.17)  a CUP of TEA
(4.18)  the THIRD  of Mril
(4.19)  WHERE'S the BREADknife?
The non-prominent words  (a, of,  the) are, as it were,  taken  for granted;
they do  not represent any choice  from a list of alternatives: 'a  cup of  tea'  is
not an alternative to 'a  cup bylfrom tea'  in most conceivable  circumstances.
But,  equally, 'the breadknife'  is  not  in any real  sense a selection  from
mylyourlalM  rs  Jones's breadknife  in  most  situations, since the  speaker
assumes, or projects the assumption that  the missing knife  is  the one  in
normal use  in  the household  and  that  it  does not  need  to be  specially
identified more  than  by  the. There will,  of  course,  be  circumstances in
which speakers deem it necessary to make prominent items which  in most
other circumstances  can be'taken as understood, as in (4.20) and (4.21):
4.20  -9  NO  it's part  the course, NOT  just an optional mtra
(4.21)  i can TAKE  you right  the door  if you WISH
In  these two examples, words that are otherwise usually taken for granted
are signalled as significant selections by  the speaker.  (4.21) could equally
well have been  rendered as 'RIGHT  to the DOOR',  but  the speaker has
chosen to highlight the preposition to. It is this that is meant by interactive 4.5  The placing  of prominence
choice  as  realised  in prominence,  as  opposed  to  the  relatively  stable
patterns of word stress. So when we consider prominence in discourse we
are considering  the extent  to which  speakers'  and  listeners'  worlds con-
verge,  and what is signalled as prominent (i.e.  selected by the speaker from
a  list of  possible alternatives  and projected  as a  significant element of  the
message), as against  that which can be  assumed as part of  the taken-for-
granted elements of  the message.
Reader activity 5  d
Try and picture the contexts of  the following utterances and decide which
syllables  the  speakers will  be most  likely  to make  prominent.  Here  is an
example:
(passenger  to bus-driver)
Does this bus go to Parkside?
DOES this bus go to PARKside?
or: does THIS bus go to PARKside?
1.  (customer to waiter in restaurant)
Does the soup contain meat?
2.  (you  telephone a friend at 11.30 p.m.)
Sorry to ring you so late.
3.  (at a car-hire office)
Will you accept a cheque?
In  doing the  reader  activity, you may  have noticed  that it was  not  only
small,  function-words  that were being  made non-prominent.  The  tradi-
tional  statement  that  lexical  words  are  stressed  and  grammarlfunction
words are not is only a general statistical tendency, not a rule, even though
some consider  it a useful  fact to impart to  learners  (e.g. Currie and Yule
1982). It is quite likely that contain (I),  ring  (2)  and accept  (3)  will  receive
no prominence,  as they  are part of  the  taken-for-granted elements of  the
discourse. By  the same token, grammarlfunction words may well be made
prominent for a variety of  reasons:
(4.22)  we WERE hoping to get there beFORE tea
(4.23)  she SAID to  leave it HERE, but there's Nowhere  leave it
(4.24)  Pupil:  i  aRRIVED to the AIRport at SIX
Teacher:  aRRIVED
Pupil: AH, i  aRRIVED AT  the airport at six 4  Wurse  analyslj  and phonology
This last example is a very typical one in the language classroom. For the
purposes of  the interaction  (to signal to the pupil  that a mistake has been
made), the teacher makes  prominent a word  that would normally  be  a
non-selected,  taken-for-granted  item. The teacher  is  reacting naturally  to
the situation, but there is a danger that, in correcting with prominence on
at, the pupil might judge  the teacher's  rendition to be the normal one.
Words like surprised, accept and contain, when they are non-prominent,
may  still  be  heard  to  retain traces  of  word stress (so  that  even  non-
prominent surprised may be heard as surPRISED rather than SURprised),
or  they may lose their word-stress pattern altogether; phonologists call this
'the intermediate accent rule'  (Knowles  1987: 124-6).
If a speaker makes a word prominent which would not normally be made
prominent, listeners  seek  motivation  for  the prominence as part  of  the
general desire of  participants to find coherence in discourse. The listener
may decide, for instance, that some contrast is being suggested;  if  someone
says:
(4.25)  i  STUdied IN  London FIVE YEARS ago
they may be heard as suggesting some significance  for the word in (chosen
as  opposed  to  near,  or  outside  of,  for  example),  which  may be
unintentional.  Sometimes  it  is  even  more  difficult  to  make a coherent
interpretation  of  prominence,  as  in  these  attested non-native speaker
examples:
(4.26)  my SISter HATES flying  JUST a$ much as i
(4.27)  can i PAY by credit CARD?
Listen carefully to any non-native speaker that you  know when he/she  is
speaking  English  naturally.  Are  any words made prominent  at
inappropriate  or  incomprehensible places?  Is  there any  pattern  in  the
misplacing of prominence?
Speakers of  some languages have  a  tendency when  speaking English  to
make the last element of  an utterance prominent,  regardless of whether it
would normally be prominent in English. Other problems with prominence
can  sometimes be  traced  back  to misunderstandings about word  stress,
especially  in  compound words,  so that a 'marked'  version of  the  item  is
produced in contexts where there is no reason to do so:
14.28)  i've BROken a coffee CUP 4.6  Intonational units
(4.29)  i  HAVE to mister at the police =tion  to STAY in ENGIand
Teachers have  first and  foremost  to train  themselves  to observe learners,
listening carefully  for any problems  that might be consistently related  to
misplaced  prominence.  Many available language teaching materials give
learners practice  in deciding which words to make prominent  in sentences
and  dialogues,  though  such  exercises  are  generally  conflated under  the
heading  of  stress  with  exercises  aimed  at  practising  the  word  stress  of
citation  forms. Bradford's  Intonation  in  Context  (1988)  specifically
addresses prominence in  the sense we are using  it here  (see the Teacher's
Book:  34)'  though  in  the  Student's  Book  the  term  highlighting  is  used
instead.
4.6  Intonational units
Many phonologists believe that it is possible to divide speech up into small
units in which each unit has at  least one main, or nuclear prominence. This
prominence will be marked  by  some  variation  in  pitch, either predomi-
nantly rising or  falling (see  4.7). The unit thus defined may then have other,
non-nuclear, prominences (usually  just  one), and  other, non-prominent
syllables. The nuclear prominence  is  the  last prominence  in  the unit,  and
such units are usually called tone units or  tone groups. Typical tone groups
would  be  (from now on  we  shall  show the  nuclear  syllable  in  bold  to
distinguish  it from prominent, non-nuclear  syllables):
(4.30)  / she WORKS for the Government /
(4.3  1)  /  i KNOW the FACE / but  i  CAN't put a NAME to it  /
(4.32)  / WHERE'S that FRIEND of yours  /
Tone groups often have  a  slight pause after them,  and  are claimed  to
correspond  most frequently  in  natural  data  with  grammatical  clauses
(Halliday 1967), as do our examples above.  In  actual  fact,  it  is not at all
easy  to  isolate  tone groups  in  natural  data,  especially  in  rapid,  casual
speech,  and some linguists have abandoned the attempt altogether,  as we
shall see below. But the tone group is central to the school of linguists who
see  intonation  as  being  concerned  with  the  information  structure  of
utterances.  Halliday  (1985) is  principal  among  these.  For Halliday,  tone
groups  are  informational  units;  the  speaker  decides  how to  segment  the
information to be transmitted and encodes each segment as a separate tone
group. The nuclear prominence,  or tonic as we  shall now call  it, projects
what the speaker decides is new  (in the sense of  'newsworthy')  in the tone
group. So in example (4.30), the newsworthy focus was on government, in
(4.31), on  face and name, and in (4.32)  on  friend. The  rest of the  tone group
may be  said  to  be  given,  but  only  in  the  sense  of  'the  background  or 4  Discourse analysis and phonology
framework  in  which  the newsworthy items operate'  rather than  'given'
meaning 'already mentioned or  understood';  the terms used by linguists can
often be confusing because of  their non-specialist meanings.
In the Hallidayan system,  the unmarked or neutral unit of information is
the clause, with the tonic on the last lexical item. This is reminiscent of  the
grammatical idea of  theme and heme in the clause (see Chapter 2), where
the rheme (the  portion of  the clause from the verb onwards) characteristic-
ally contains the newsworthy information:
theme  rherne
(4.33)  I  've PUT it in the FRIDGE
(4.34)  YOU  PUSH  that little Button
Many utterances will not  follow this neutral, unmarked  pattern, and the
nucleus may be located  in  a number of  different places;  for example, the
theme may occupy its own tone group for purposes of  foregrounding or
contrast:
(4.35)  / the WINE / was Awful 1  but the FISH  / was SUPERB  /
And the many cases of marked themes discussed in Chapter 2 will bring the
nucleus on to those themes:
(4.36)  / the CArrots / we GROW  ourSELVES / but the poTAtoes / we BUY
in the MARket /
(4.37)  / in the afterNOON  / we went SWIrnming /
Reoder  activity 7  d
Imagine contexts for these utterances and decide on the division into tone
groups. Then mark the  tonic syllables  and any other prominent syllables. If
possible,  compare  your results with someone else's,  but remember  that
there may be more than one possible contextualisation.
1.  I've  lost my car keys.
2.  Suddenly a cat jumped  out.
3.  It's Mondays I hate most.
4.  David I know quite well; his sister I don't  know at all.
It  is the speaker who decides how the information is to be distributed  in
tone groups and where  the  tonic  is placed,  and  the decisions rest on an
assessment of what needs  to be highlighted for the listener. Neul  and given,
as stated  above,  are not  simply a matter of what has already  been men-
tioned and what has not; an entity already mentioned may be highlighted  to 4.6  Intonational units
reassert  it as  a topic  in the conversation or  to  contrast  it with another entity;
on  the other hand, an entity may be treated as  given because it is obvious in
the context, even though it has not been mentioned at all. Because all such
decisions  are in the hands of  the speaker, it may be argued that the notion
of  an  unmarked  or neutral information  structure  (i.e.  one that  uses  the
single tone-unit clause in which the information is distributed as given  +
new  and  the tonic  is on  the  last  lexical  item)  is  irrelevanh  and  that,  in
language teaching, to teach such a structure  as  if  it were an autamatic  reflex
upon which  'special'  or marked decisions are overlaid is misleading, since
the decision-making and assessment of  the state of  the interaction on the
part of the speaker are constant.
The tone group is a powerful, basic structure for the analysis of  talk.
After  all, we  do not  speak  in  sentences,  and  often  not  even  in  regular
clause-length chunks, and so  if we can isolate a unit whose basis is the  tonic
prominence  and  relate this  to  informativeness in  talk,  we  can  begin  to
formulate rules for a grammar of  speech,  in which  the tone group  is the
minimal useful contribution to any discourse. Research on such grammars
of  speech, operating in tandem with, but not subordinate  in any way to, the
traditional grammar of clauses and sentences, is in its infancy.
However, not all linguists are agreed that it  is a straightforward matter to
isolate  tone groups. Evidence shows  that  even trained native speakers  find it
very  difficult  to  break talk  up into  such units  and  to  identify  tonics in
speech  (Brown  and  Yule  1983:  158). Brown  and her  colleagues  have
abandoned the tone group and  instead prefer to work with longer 'pause-
defined'  units. Long  and  extended pauses may  be  seen  as  'constituting
boundaries  of  phonological units  which  may  be  related  to  information
units'  (ibid.:  164). They  also  abandon  the  tonic  as  the  single  focus  of
information and  instead mark all prominences equally, thus doing away
with the complexities of deciding exactly what is meant by given and new.
Prominence then simply acquires a 'watch  this!'  function, and may be used
to draw  the  listener's  attention  to a wide  variety  of  phenomena in  the
discourse, including marking the beginning of a speaker's turn, a new topic,
special emphasis or contrast, or new information.
Brown and her associates  are concerned with how speakers manage large
stretches of  interaction,  in  terms of  turn-taking and  topic-signalling and
how speakers use pitch  level to interact. For instance,  there seems to be a
direct correlation in English between the beginning of a new topic in speech
and a shift to a higher pitch  (see  also Menn and Boyce  1982; Cruttenden
1986: 129). Correspondingly, there  is a tendency  for the speaker to drop
low  in  his or her pitch range  at the end  of  a  topic  or sub-topic.  These
phenomena are particularly noticeable where one speaker has a long turn
or series of  long turns,  and  is likely  to be  less noticeable where there is
multi-party  talk  where  no  speaker dominates,  and  where there  are
sequences of  short turns (see Schaffer 1984). The evidence certainly seems 4  Discourse analysis and phonology
convincing that this is a basic function of  raised pitch in English, and one
that can be directly taught if  it is seen to be lacking in the learner's spoken
production.
Brown and her associates work with a unit they call the paratone, defined
as  'a  short sequence of  units beginning with  a  stressed peak  high  in the
speaker's  voice range';  the  unit  then  shows a descending order of  pitch
height on subsequent prominent syllables till the final prominence, which is
a fall from high to low pitch. Paratones are related to topic, rather than to
information structure. A typical transcription of speech using this approach
is reproduced here; Brown and her colleagues use three lines, rather like a
simplified musical stave, on which changes in the speaker's pitch  level and
the direction of  pitch movements can be plotted. The three lines represent
the low, mid and high average bands of  the speaker's pitch range. It should
be  noted  that  this  is a  transcript of  Scomsh  (Edinburgh) English, which
does  not  have  the  large pitch  movements  associated with  Received
Pronunciation.
(4.38)  I  found my drink was a great problem with them because
at  that  time  I  drank whisky and lemonade + and I would
go and ask  for whisky and  lemonade  and  I would get
whisky and  lemon + because  you have to ask for whisky 4.6  lntonatiod units
or scotch and seven up + you know + I
cottoned on to it  + but + and they couldn't get over
the fact that  I didn't  like! ice  in whisky and of  course
they either gave me ice whether I wanted  it or not or
they stacked the glass up + right up to the level that 4  Discourse analysis and phonology
you would  normally have if you  had ice in your  drink
(from Brown and Yule Discourse Analysis 1983, pp. 102-3)
Consider  the  advantages  and  disadvantages of  Brown's  system of  tran-
scription compared with  the  Hallidayan  one  of  tone  units  and  tonic
syllables,  not so much in terms of which one accounts best for all the details
of  intonational  features,  but  in  terms  of  their pedagogical  usefulness.
Which system would learners be most likely to find usable and helpful? Are
there other, more user-friendly ways of  transcribing intonation?
Turn-taking  is  another important  aspect  of  pitch  level  in  this  view  of
intonation. The speaker can signal a desire to continue a speaking turn by
using non-low pitch, even at a point where there is a pause, or at  the end of
a syntactic unit,  such as a clause. Equally, a down-step in pitch is often a
good turn-yielding cue. The intonational cues interact with other factors
such as  syntax, lexis, non-verbal communication and the context itself, and
are  typical  of  how  the  different  levels  of  encoding have  to  be  seen  as
operating in harmony in a discourse-oriented  view of  language (see Schaffer
1983).
The approach to intonation characterised by the work of Brown and her
associates need  not necessarily  contradict  the Hallidayan, informational
view. In terms of pedagogical usefulness, a Hallidayan approach using tone
groups could be  a  useful  framework  for practising prominence at lower
levels of  language proficiency,  and for practising different tones  (see 4.7),
both alone  and  in  combination.  The  Brown  approach  to  intonation
undoubtedly has advantages from our point of view in its concern with the
management  of  longer  stretches of  discourse  and with turn-taking  and
topic-framing,  and doing  away with  tone groups  certainly avoids  an
analytical difficulty. The  system of transcription, though, is not particularly
user-friendly, and language teachers may want to adopt their own ways of
indicating pitch  level and prominences, using other  types of  visual  repre-
sentation. What is more,  the interactive approach outlined  in 4.7.4  below
could be  taken as a global set of  principles which subsume local phenom-
ena such as yielding the turn or changing the topic. 4.7  Tones and their meanings
17  Tones and their meanings
4.7.1  Types of  tones
The prominent  syllables  in  an utterance are the carriers of  any significant
variation  in pitch  that the speaker might use. At recognisable points in the
utterance,  the pitch  level may rise,  fall,  or  be  carefully  kept  level.  Pho-
nologists disagree as to the number of  discrete types of  significant falling,
rising and level tones that are used  in English; some distinguish between as
many as eight, others work with four or five. For our practical purposes five
will be a useful number to consider. These are:
1.  Fall  \
2.  Risefall  /b
3.  Fall-rise  V
4.  Rise  /"
5.  Level  +
It  is worth noting that the tone contour can often spread itself out over
more  than one syllable or word  (especially tones 2 and 3). Indeed,  it will
often  be  difficult  to  separate consecutive  occurrences of  a  fall  and a  rise
hom a single fall-rise  that  spreads over  several words,  though  speakers
sometimes clearly indicate by  running words together (often into the same
tone group) in a broad  'sweep'  of  the voice that the tone is a complex one
spread  over word  boundaries.  In  the following  piece  of  natural  data,
speaker A  utters the last part of  his question  in one sweep, and speaker B
says  the words seen one in a single sweep in her reply. But then B clearly and
deliberately separates  seen and one in her next utterance by making one the
tonic (to  emphasise that it was only one)  and by placing the risefall on one
only, making seen a non-tonic,  level-toned prominence:
(4.39)
7'
A:  / are there MANY good  hops in town?  I
B:  / i DON'T  know  about'^^,#/ but i've
L
(Author's data 1989)
In  our example utterances,  it will  be  sufficient  to mark  the  tone on our
bold-face  tonic syllable, with  the understanding that other features of  the
delivery may extend the domain of  the tone over more than that syllable.
Though opinions vary widely as to the functions of  the different tones,
most phonologists are agreed on a broad distinction between tones  that end
with a falling contour (fall and risefall), and tones which end with a rising
contour  (fall-rise  and  rise). What  is more,  the distinction  seems  to be  a 4  Discourse analysis and phonology
linguistic universal and to have some universally common functional con-
trasts attached to it (see Cruttenden 1986: 168-9).  But such is the confusion
amongst descriptive and  applied phonologists as  to  just  what particular
tones mean  that  it  is worth taking a close look  at different views-to see
where  they seem to be pointing, if  indeed there is sufficient common ground
to merit any general conclusions.
4.7.2  Grammatical approaches
One widely held view is  that intonation has a grammatical function, that is
to  say,  that  there  are  'correctx intonations  for  things  such  as questions,
sentence-tags, subordinate clauses, and so on. Most common among these
views is that 'yes-no'  type interrogatives end in a rising tone, as in:
a
(4.41)  .I  d'you feel  qNGry?  I
Conversely, wh- interrogatives are held to be uttered with a fall:
(4.42)  I WHAT'S  the ~i$l~lern?  I
In  fact,  there  seems to  be  little hard  evidence  that  this  is  so,  and much
evidence  to  suggest  that  there  is  no  one-to-one relationship  between
sentence-type  and  tone.  C.  C.  Fries's  (1964) data  had  61  per cent  of
questions with a falling tone, and he concluded that  'there seem to be no
intonation sequences  on questions  that are not also found on other types of
utterances,  and no intonation sequences on other types of  utterances that
are not found on questions'.  Other researchers have come to just  the same
conclusion. Our opening example of  the comedy sketch in Chapter 1 also
underlined this  lack  of  correspondence between  grammatical form  and
discourse function, and it would seem open to question whether any direct
intonational and grammatical correlates exist, whether for interrogatives  or
other  grammatical structures. Tags, for  instance,  display  that  speaker-
controlled variability that is the hallmark of  interaction:
WAS~T  it? /
(4.43)  I  it was  BOB  SMITH  \  /  /A
I \W>S%T~~?I
Both  are interrogative structures  (i.e.  inverted verb and subject), but  the
choice of fall or rise seems  to depend entirely  on  the speaker's assessment  of
the mutual state of knowledge between speaker and listener.
The more we look at  intonation and grammar, the mare we are forced to
conclude that they are separate systems which work independently, but in
harmony, to contribute to &iscourse meaning. 4.7  Tones and  their meanings
4.7.3  Attitudinal  approaches
By  far the most common view of  intonation is that it is related  to attitude
and/or emotion, that some intonations express 'surprise',  or 'detachment',
and so on. This seems particularly  so when we look at utterances such as:
\  \
(4.44)  1  JOHN!  / HOW nice to SEE you! / (high fall: surprise)
L  4
A
(4.45)  I he's Coming on FRIday  I Isn't  that GOOD! /  (rise-fall:  excitement)
/  L  /  L
Very  often,  though,  it  is  simply  the  lexis  that misleads  us:  the  selfsame
intonation patterns can be used without any emotive implications, or else
with completely different ones:
(4.46)
'7'
A:  I  CAN i  invite my SIJter? I
\
B:  I ?ES! I BRING her aLONG! I  (high fall: enthusiasm?  friendly
L  acceptance?)
L
\
(4.47)  I  the CHILD is ~~&ianr  / BEST in  the CLtSS I  (risefall: purely
/
informative? enthusiasjic? sarcastic?)
We can  see what a mess  can be got into if  we  try  to attach attitudinal or
emotive labels to tones out of  context, for it seems almost any emotion can
be  accompanied  by  any tone,  and  that  without  lexical  or  contextual
information or other vocal clues we cannot reliably label a tone contour as
displaying  a  particular  attitude or emotion. The most we can  say  is  that
emotional intensification tends to be accompanied by wider pitch contrasts,
but  that  is  far from attributing particular emotions and attitudes  to par-
ticular tone contours.
Reader activity  9 r.O
Try saying  the utterances on the following page  as they  are labelled,  and
then  try  to change the words to any other words that fit the same pattern,
but  retaining  the same tone contours, as in the example. How does your
interpretation of the attitudinal or emotive aspect of the utterances change?
\  7'  \
Example:  / MARK 1 WHAT'S the MATTer?  /
.  V
\  7"  \
/ YES / MAYbe FRIday  /
\"  ?
L
\
1  pbssibly / i DON'T KNOW  I
v  L 4  Discourse atralysis and phonology
1.  I he's  a STUpid F~L!  1
4l
2.  1  if you Opened your  bd  1  you'd  S!E  it!  I
3.  1  JI&?  I i DON'T be9VE  it!  /
The attitudinallemotive  approach  to  intonation is deeply entrenched  in
English language  teaching. Boyle (1987)  says  that 'stress and intonation are
employed  in  that  area  of  language which  deals with attitudes, moods,
emotions'.  Roberts  (1983) suggests  step-by-step  intonational  analysis of
dialogues with students and considers dre attitudinal analysis  to be crucial,
as seen in the instructions to teachers:
(4.48)  Step 3: This step must not be omitted. Pick a line or lines in which
the attitude is very clear and where stress and intonation patterns are
easily recognised;  e.g. "what a beautiful day!".
(Roberts 1983)
The  teacher  then utters this with  level  pitch  which  the  students  must
'correct'  to a high  falling pitch, because the speaker is 'happy',  not  'sad'.
The assumption is that level pitch would convey an attitude  of sadness, and
yet it is clear that level tone can be used by someone who is perfectly polite,
happy and interested,  as  in  this attested example  of  a  telephone
switchboard operator speaking  to a caller:
It is context, rather than the tone itself, which denotes whether someone is
happy, sad, or whatever.
The point  about attitude can be further underlined with  two examples
from teaching material by Thompson (1981):  identical tone patteos in the
two responses realise quite different attitudinal contexts:
(4.50)  (a) Alan:  SO&  about the noise last night, J  6
L  Jo:  I should think so too
L  (b) David:  . . .  Sorry to ring so 1  Ll  re
I
Jo: Not at all
We must conclude  that  it is probably a fruitless enterprise  to  teach
intonation  as  'attitude'  or  'emotion'.  How people express attitudes  and
emotions is a complex combination of vocal cues,  intonation,  lexis,  non-
verbal behaviour and contextual factors. Such matters may well be cultural
108 4.7  Toms and  their meanings
universals;  there  is certainly not enough evidence to suggest major differ-
ences that warrant direct pedagogical  intervention. When  attitudinal cues
are misunderstood,  as  in  judgements such  as  'speakers  of  language  X
always sound arrogant  in English',  the reason  is  likely to be  traceable  to
misleading signals concerning what assumptions the speaker has encoded
by  tone  choice with  regard  to  such  things  as  the state  of  the  hearer's
knowledge, what is recoverable from context and what is 'newsworthy'  or
the centre of focus,  that  is  to say,  the  interactive  level of  signalling that
intonation can be shown to convey. L1 interference may also play a $art:iif
a  speaker has as L1 a language with a narrower pitch range  than English
(e.g. Danish),  then heishe may well sound 'flat'  and monotonous in English,
or  if  LI  is  a language with a  tendency  to  'jump'  regularly  in  pitch  (e.g.
French),  then  the  speaker may  sound  'excitable'.  But  the  remedies  here
would seem to be training  in typical English pitch range and tone contours
rather  than  anything  to  do  with teaching learners  how  to  express
emotions.
4.7.4  Interactive approaches
The interpretation of tone choice that seems most reliable and which seems
to make most  sense, given  what we  have  said  about  the  fundamentally
interactive nature of  the other parts of  the intonation system (prominence,
tonic  placement)  is  to  see  tones  as  fulfilling  an  interactive  role  in  the
signalling of  the 'state of play' in discourse. The speaker has to judge how
n,  deliver the tone group. Should it be delivered as open-ended,  as incom-
plete in some way, as non-conducive with regard to a possible response  (i-e.
not restricting the possible field of  response), as background to what is the
main  message,  as  referring  to  common  ground? Or  on  the other hand,
should  it be delivered  as possessing a  finality or completeness,  as  'telling'
rather  than  simply  referring  to  background,  as  conducive  towards  the
response of  the hearer, or as the main core of  the message? Tone choice in
English seems to fulfil these opposing functions, and Cruttenden (1981)  has
&red  to a major distinction  between  open and closed meanings, while
Brazil  (198Sa and b) talks of  referring and proclaiming functions. In British
Raeived  Pronunciation,  the  open  or  referring  functions  are  carried  by
ending  in rises; the closed or proclaiming functions by those ending in
falls.  When there  is no orientation  on the part of  the speaker to either of
functions,  the tone  is  neutral or oblique,  and  is  realised  by  a  level
pitch.  Let us consider some examples:
:JSI)  / IF youLgtE/ we can GO via dA$Jchester  /
:an)
\  3
A:  / are YOU  mr BWE?  /
\ 4  Disc0~1s.e  analysis and phonology
(4.53)  A: 1 N?)~  I YOU  must be  mr  B*  I
B: 19yl
a  A:  I d9m  I mom TWENW- I?  I
(4.54)  A: I arc  YOU  mr  ~bd?  I
B: /dl
',
A: I AI$  I  the ~breary  1 would  like a
L
In  (4.51), 'if  you like' is treated as background or subordinate information
to  the main message. But subordinate here is not intended in the grammati-
cal sense; the speaker might have considered  the  grammatically subordinate
clause  to be-the main message and the (grammatically) main clause  to be the
background or 'common  ground' information:
\  \
44-55)  I  we  COULD  go  via @chcner  I bur ONLY  if  you WAF  to I
In  (4.52), 'Are you Mr Blake?' is an open-ended utterance: it calls for some
completion or closing, in this case an answer that establishes the unknown
polarity (a 'yes-no'  question). Mr Blake's  answer provides the finality  that
was missing. Speaker A in (4.53)  is sure that this is Mr Blake, and so uses  a
closed  and  conducive tone. But  in  (4.54), Mr Blake is  not  satisfied  that
things are  final  and  closed,  and  his rising-tone answer  has  an  implicit
'why!'  or 'who wants to know?' in it, and an incompleteness  that is only
closed by A's  utterance, followed by  a confirmation of  the closure by Mr
Blake's  'oh'.
Reader actMty 10 d
Label  the tonics  (the main prominences in bold) in  thew utterances with
either fall-rise  (\f  )  or  falling  (  )  tones, according  to whether  you
judge  them  to  be  'openlreferring'  meanings  or  'closedlproclaiming'
meanings:
1.  1  IF you see TIM  / CAN  you ask him to RING  me?  /
2.  A:  / i met JOsie COLEman 1  in TOWN  /
B:  / JOsie COLEman? 1
A:  I YES  I
3.  A:  1  IS it five O'CLOCK?  I
B:  / FIVE  TO  /
A:  1  AH!  / GOOD! 1  JUST  in TLME!  / 4.8  Key
In  this interactive view  of  tone  choice,  the  speaker  is constantly making
assumptions  as  to  what should  be  treated as background  or  common
ground, what may be uttered with a conducive tone, what is open-ended,
and what should  be  delivered as world-changing  in  the perception of  the
hearer.
Brazil  (198Sa  and  b)  attaches  a  further  interactive  significance  to  the
internal  choice represented  by  rise-fall  as  opposed  to  fall,  and  rise  as
opposed  to  fall-rise.  Rise-fall  and  rise  are  seen  to be  dominant-speaker
choices;  at any given  point  in  a conversation,  one speaker will  typically
exercise dominance, though dominance may  change frequently  in casual
conversation  among equals.  Dominant  speakers have  the option of  using
the dominant tones or  the non-dominant ones; non-dominant speakers will
only use non-dominant tones.  In a situation such as a classroom, it is most
likely  that  the  teacher will exercise  the dominant-speaker option; pupils who
do  so may be misheard as  insolent. The  following  is most  likely  to  be a  teacher
giving  the class  information rather  than a pupil answering a  teacher question:
(4.56)  6
7
/ it's TOOK / T  0 / is the past tense of TAKE /
/  I/ F  /
The interactive approach to tone choice seems  to be the most convincing of
the explanations  we  have  looked  at  in  4.7.2-4.  Nonetheless,  there  are
unresolved difficulties for pedagogical  application. For  instance,  it is diffi-
cult to  conceptualise why wh- questions are very often uttered with a falling
tone, when they seem every bit as 'incomplete'  and 'open-ended'  as yes-no
questions. One has to remind oneself that the choice of  tone is independent
of  the choice of grammatical form, and that it is the speaker's assessment of
the conducive  (and therefore non-open)  character of  the question  that  is
important.  'WHAT'S  the TLME?', uttered with falling tone,  invites  the
hearer to choose from a catalogue of possible alternatives, and can be seen
to  be  conducive,  but  such  explanations  often  seem  to  be  pushing  the
interactive terminology to its limits, and may not sound convincing in class
or  in  teaching materials. However,  until we have more satisfactory terms
for  interactive functions,  the  interactive  approach  as  a whole can  be
adapted and  simplified  for  teaching  purposes  and  used  productively.
Bradford (1988) offers just  such an adaptation.
4.8  Key
The relative level of pitch between one part of an utterance and another can
often be heard to change, to jump upwards, or to drop Hnd  trail off. We are
all familiar with utterances where the speaker's pitch level suddenly rises, as
in B's  reply  in  (4.57), where we can  show the jump  by moving to the line
above in our transcription: 4  Discourse analysis  phonology
(4.57)
f
A:  1 IS  that ~d~singof~oursmJl  here?  1
sister  NOT my
B:  1  she's my  *  I  cb~!  I
B ems  to be expressing something  contrary to A's  expectations; there is a
contrast  between  cousin  and  sister.  Sometimes,  though, the pitch  level
drops:
(4.58)  1  h  I THAT'S  )I.  then I  I
&  &  THAT'Sbished
Here the spea.ket  is indicating that 'that's  finished'  does not add anything
new  to  the  discourse,  but rather  that  it  is  to  be  heard  as  functionally
equivalent to 'that's  it then',  as saying more or less the same  thing. ~he4
two  choices  Brazil  (1985a  and  b)  refers  to  as  high  key  and  low  key,
respectively. When  speakers are speaking in  the middle of  their  average
pitch range, they are speaking in mid-key, and  the utterance simply adds
more  to the ongoing discourse. These three functions, high  for contrast-
iveness, mid  for  addition, and  low for reiteration  are the key  system of
English; they represent a further layer of speaker choice in intonanon.
The  jump  to  high key  and the  drop  to  low  have  also  been  seen  as
important cues in topic management, with high key marking the initiation
of  a topical segment, and low key its ending (see  the remarks on paratones
in 4.6). Bradford (1  988) again provides useful pedagogical applications of
Brazil's  account of key choices.
Reader activity I  1  IrO
Consider points where the speakers would be likely to  jump to high key or
to drop to low key in these utterances:  -
1.  A:  I i'll ASK &NOS  lktbrazilian  /
B:  1  was?  I he's  d~ean  I DIDn't  you kdw?  I
2.  A:  I  17TH@S  I you've  been VERY 4.9  Pitch across speakers
4.9  Pitch across speakers
A  final observation needs to be made concerning how pitch-level choices
operate across speaker turns.  Matching  or  concord  in  pitch between
speakers is a phenomenon noted by Brown, Currie and Kenworthy (1980:
23-4),  and  dealt with  by  Brazil  (198Sa  and  b)  under  the  heading  of
termination. Brown's  team show with  their data how speakers sometimes
begin  a new topic by asking a question which begins high in the speaker's
pitch range, and how this high pitch is echoed by the hearer with high pitch
at the beginning of  the answer. A typical topic-opening sequence might be:
iydcy?  v
(4.59)  A:  / HAVE you ever been to  I
\  \
A:  / it's a GREAT COrNtry 1 RE,&lly  /
This kind of  'termination'  choice exercises constraints on the listener as  to
what sort of key will be used  in the answer. In example (4.59), the speaker
expects  the hearer to produce a high-key, contrastive answer (a  true yes-no
polarity).
High-key concord  is used not only at the beginning of  topics; in  (4.60),
speaker A  responds in high key to agree with B's  assessment of a situation
which  is contrary to normal expectations:
(4.60)  (A and B have been discussing a photocopier which is always
breaking down)
\  \
A:  / SHqCKing things / AREN'T  they I
L  \
a N~w  one
B: / they ARE  /  \  I and %$'s  I  I
~ES
IS
A:/  &/
(Author's data 1989)
If a speaker uses low termination, as B does in (4.61),  the constraints on the
hearer to continue are minimal:
\
(4.61)  A:  I  so THAT'S IJ  then I
\
B:  /Y~AH/
4
THAT'S 4  I
A:/\  1
RIGHT
Y 4  Discourse  analysis and phonology
4.10  Summary
The picture we have painted of  intonation may suggest a complexity that
will  never lend itself  to straightforward pedagogy. However,  the distinct
advantage of an interactive description such as Brazil's, with discrete  layers
of choice, or, for that matter, any description that adequately separates the
functions of  prominence, tone and pitch level,  is that separate parts of  the
system can be dealt with individually, while not losing sight of  either the
overall discourse significance of the  different levels of choice or the unified
sense of  the importance of  speaker choice and adjustment to rhe constantly
changing  state  of  play  between  participants  in  the  talk.  Interactive
approaches to intonation, as wdl as being intuitively more satisfying, do
away with much of  the confusing labelling of  attitudinal approaches and
offer a more systematic framework for  innovative pedagogy. Decisions will
still have to be made about presentation and how to make a complex set of
concepts  appealing  to  learners,  but good  language teachers have  never
lacked the ability to translate new types of description into useful practice.
Should  intonation be left to develop for itself, or  should we teach it?  There
do  seem  to be some  good arguments for  the,latter view. For one  thing, while
all languages seem to Lse  intonation  in some form or another,  it is by  no
means  certain  that  realisations  are  the  same.  Even  within dialects  and
varieties of English, particular tones seem  to have different functions. Some
researchers claim to have found significant differences from English in the
distribution of  tones in other languages and how learners use English tones
(e.g.  for German, see Scuffil 1982, A. Fox 1984, and Rees 1986; for Dutch,
see Willems 1982). But learners' problems may not all be explained away by
contrastive analysis, Lower-level learners often have  to encode utterances in
L2  word-by-word, and under such conditions, appropriate tone-grouping,
prominence, tone and key may simply not be realised. This  fact might argue
for giving learners the opportunity to practise intonation using words and
phrases they are already familiar with and do not have to struggle  too much
with on the level of  lexico-grammatical encoding. Or else other modes of
spoken language such as  scripted drama might be used; Johns-Lewis (1986)
shows  how  quite wide  pitch variation  is  found in  acting situations  (in
comparison with conversation and reading aloud), and drama could offer a
context for spotlighting intonation features.
There  are certainly practical conclusions  to be  drawn  from  the  inter-
active  descriptions we have examined. For one  thing, the simple fall and  the
fall-rise  are definitely the most useful  tones  to present and practise  first,
since they fulfil such basic, everyday  functions, and  they can be presented in 4.  I  1  Conclusion
contrast with each other in the same utterance or exchange, as  in examples
(4.51-55).  The  key  system  is  also  relatively  straightforward  and  easily
graspable, and contextualised dialogues  and  situations can  be  devised  to
elicit different keys. Pitch rise and drops at topic and sub-topic boundaries
can be practised  in prepared talks and anecdote-telling. Such discrete-level
practice  is  probably more  manageable  than  trying  to  elicit  the whole
complex system of choices in one go.
Reader activity 1  2  d
To  finish  this chapter, we might  look  at what  a  short  piece  of  natural
discourse  looks  like when  transcribed for all  its relevant features  (promi-
nence, tone and key) in the kind of transcription we have been using in this
chapter. Do you think the  transcription is pedagogically usable as  it stands?
Is it too complicated? Ought it to be changed in some ways, or might other
types of  transcription more effectively convey  the same amount of  infor-
mation?
(The extract  is  taken  from  a recording  of  a senior  prison  officer  in a
British gaol talking about his job in an informal interview.)
\
COULD you TELL  us a bit
(4.621  Interviewer:  /
L  I about
7'
TINE?
your Everyday  rou /'/
 ELL  B~EN
Officer:  I  / i've  4  in the / k~dice  I for about
",  P
FIFteen Y~~RS  / bur UNlike my PREvious Yupatlon I
\  \  fl
we're DEtLing I  N$W  / with PEOPLE who are
\
ures / of OTHer agencies I  they've  k0(mally  I
\  7!  V,
FAILed the / proBAtion  service I  and superV
*-+  Y  \
/ and SO . .  .  / that IS?  a MARKED DIFFerence I  from
v
my  \
/
PREvious occupation
b
+ WHEREas b$0&
Interviewer:  I  /SO/  I  you
L  -  were DEALing with  . .  .  / AS it WERE.  . .  / both  the
\
WOULD it be TRUE to
GOOD Am-bt  1  $d  1
Y 4  Discourse analysis and phonology
WY  \
/ you're ONLY  dealing with the BAD now 1 in
4
Officer:  I
that's RI&
\  7.  k"  there are QBviously  / PEOPLE who  .4Y  I they
\
SHOULDn't be  us / because they DIDn't $)  I
WHAT  was adi,EGg they've done I BUT the
.  4,  \
majority of peofle  I acd~  I that they've DONE
\-.  fl
~ONG  1  and -re  I acCEPT the
Y  v
\
COINsequences I .  .  .
(Author's data 1985)
This  chapter ends  the  investigation of the contribution of discourse  analysis
to  the three main levels of  linguistic description which are already the basis
of  language teaching: grammar, lexis and phonology. The rest of  the book
will consider descriptions  of  speech and writing based on discourse models
and will address  the questions of how natural speech and writing can bst
be described and how-such descriptions can be  related to the concerns of
language teachers, especially in the areas of speakingllistening  and reading1
writing skills. 4.1 1  Conclusion
Further reading
The most  accessible works  that deal with  intonation  in discourse  in general  are
Brown and Yule  (1983), Brazil  (198Sa and b) and Cruttenden  (1986), but there
are many other sources dealing with particular features.
On the importance of relating articulatory and other broader features of speech see
Wong  (1986), and for more on  teaching voice quality  settings,  see Esling and
Wong (1983).
On the notion of  feet see Abercrombie  (1964).
The  concept  of  stress-timing is  explained  in Pike  (1945);  also  useful for  the
arguments concerning rhythm and stress is Ladd  (1980: 34-46).
Brazil,  Coulthard  and  Johns  (1980) and  Coulthard  and  Brazil  (1982) provide
further explanations of prominence, and a very interesting study of how teachers
use prominence in  language classes is Hewings (1987).
For more on the relationship between tone groups and clauses, see Schubiger (1964)
and Lindstrom (1978),  and for further examples of the Brown approach, see Yule
(1980a and b) and Brown  (1983).
For intonation and turn-taking,  see Brown, Currie and Kenworthy (1980: 24) and
Cutler and Pearson  (1986).
On  the  lack of  correlation  between grammatical  categories  and  tones, Stenstrom
(1984)  and Geluykens (1988)  are worth  reading.
An  example of  a different distribution  of  tones  in a non-RP variety of  English  is
Guy et al.'s  (1986)  study of Australian  intonation.
Finally,  for  another discourse-oriented  approach  to  teaching  intonation,  see  the
very practical functional categories in V.  J. Cook  (1979). 'Speak when you're spoken to!'
the Queen sharply interrupted
her.
'But if everybody obeyed that
rule,'  said  Alice,  who  was
always  ready for  a  little  argu-
ment, 'and  if  you  only  spoke
when you were spoken  to,  and
the other person always waited
for you  to begin,  you see nobody
would ever say anything.'
Lewis Carroll:  77wugh  dhe  LogWlrg
Glsss
So far in this book we have looked at discourse analysis in general and,  in
greater detail,  at  the  way  grammar,  lexis  and  phonology have  been
approached by discourse analysts. Our  task now is  to  look closer at various
manifestations of discourse, in this chapter spoken and in the next written,
with a view to potential applications in language  teaching. We have already
stated as our ongoing concern the establishment of  as accurate a picture as
possible of natural discourse, in order  to have this as a yardstick for  judging
approaches  to  language teaching  and for  evaluating  what  goes  on  in
classrooms and the output of  learners.
Spoken language is a vast subject, and little is known in hard statistical
terms of  the distribution of  different types of  speech in people's  everyday
lives. If we list at  random a number of different  types of  speech and consider
how much of  each day or week we spend engaged in each one, we can only
roughly guess at some son  of  frequency ranking, other  than  to  say  that
casual conversation is almost certainly the most frequent for most people.
The  rest will depend on our daily occupation and what sorts of contacts we
have with others. Some different types of  speech might be:
telephone calls (business and private) 5.2  Adjacency pairs
service encounters (shops, ticket offices, etc.)
interviews  (jobs, journalistic,  in official settings)
classroom  (classes, seminars, lectures,  tutorials)
rituals (church prayers, sermons, weddings)
monologues  (speeches, stories, jokes)
language-in-action  (talk  accompanying  doing:  fixing,  cooking,
assembling, demonstrating, etc.)
casual conversation (strangers, friends, intimates)
organising and directing people  (work, home,  in the street)
Until  large corpora of  natural speech are assembled  (and that  is no small
task  given  the  problems  of  recording  such  data),  we  have  to  rely  on
intuition  as  language teachers  to  decide  which  forms  of  talk are most
central and useful to investigate and practise with groups of  learners. But
we  can  be  confident  that  such  areas as casual conversation, language-in-
action, monologues  of  various kinds,  telephone  calls, service encounters
and,  from  the point  of  view  of  evaluating what  goes on  in  classrooms,
classroom  talk,  will all  be  worth  investigating  and  understanding more
clearly.
We have already touched on classroom talk as described by  the Birming-
ham  school of  discourse analysts  in  section  1.5, and on conversation  in
section 1.7 in connexion with the ethnomethodological approach. Here we
shall look closely at what has been  said  about  the  forms and patterns of
different  types  of  talk  and consider whether there are things  that  can  be
taught or practised  to assist  language learning. We  shall,  as always,  not
necessarily  assume  that,  because  something can  be  described,  it  must
therefore be taught. We shall begin with small units and work up to larger
ones.
5.2  Adjacency pairs
Pairs of  utterances  in  talk  are often mutually dependent; a most obvious
example is that a question predicts an answer, and that an answer presup-
poses  a question.  It  is  possible  to  state  the requirements,  in  a  normal
conversational  sequence, for many types of uperances,  in  terms of what is
expected  as  a  response  and  what  certain  responses  presuppose.  Some
examples might be:
Utterance function  Expected  response
greeting  greeting
congratulation  thanks
apology  acceptance
inform  acknowledge
leave-taking  leave-taking 5  Spoken language
Pairs of utterances such as greeting-greeting  and apology-acceptance  are
called adjacency pairs (see Schegloff and Sacks 1973).  The mutual depend-
ence  of  such  utterances  is  underlined  by  the  fact  that  we  can  only  be
absolutely sure of the function of  the initiating utterance (the  first pair-part
as  it is usually called) when it is contextualised with the response it gets (the
second pair-part), and vice versa (thus  'hello'  in English could be a greeting,
a request  to a telephone caller  to identify themselves, or an expression  of
surprise: 'Hello! What's  this here?'). This  is to reiterate the problem of form
and  function  raised in section  1.2.  In  example  (5.1) the  imperative  first
pair-part can be classified functionally as an informing move, in light of the
acknowledging second pair-part  it receives:
(5-1)  (On a train)
Ticket collector: (inspecting passenger's ticket) Change at
Peterborough.
Passenger: Thank you.
(Author's field notes)
Reader activity 1 rr.8
Look  at these extracts from natural  data and consider  the different func-
tions of  thank you in each case. Follow-up moves such as  'not at all'  I 'that's
okay' 1  'you're welcome' would not be appropriate here in British English;
why  not? Can you  think of  any culture or language where  they would be
realised?
1.  Bus conductor:  One pound twenty.
Passenger:  (gives £1.20)
Conductor: Thank you.
Passenger: Thank you.
2.  (University  seminar; lecturer is facing the class, using an
overhead projector.)
Student:  It's not focused.
Lecturer:  Thank you  (adjusts the projector).
Adjacency pairs are of  different types. Some ritualised first pair-parts may
have an identical second pair-part  (hello  -  hello, bappy New Year -  happy
New  Year), while  others expect a different  second pair-part (congratula-
tions -  thanks). Equally, a second pair-part such as thanks will presuppose
quite a wide range of  first pair-parts  (offers, apologies,  informing moves,
congratulations, commiserations, etc.). Other first pair-parts have various
possibilities  and  generate  further expectations too;  take,  for  example,
invitation: 5.2  Adjacency pairs
(5.2)  A: Would you like to come over for a drink tomorrow?
B:  Yes, that would be nice.  (accept)
Yes,  if  it could be after six.  (accept with condition)
No.  (reject)
We probably react against the bald No answer; politeness codes demand a
more elaborate structure for the response:
(5.3)  B:  Thanks very much, but I'm afraid I'm  booked up tomorrow night,
what about. . .  (etc.)
We  can  segment  the  polite  refusal  of  the  invitation  into  appreciation
('thanks very much'),  softener  (I'm  afraid'),  reason  ('I'm  booked up')  and
face-saver  ('what  about  .  .  .  '). This  pattern  'would  typically  be  found
between  adult  friends,  colleagues,  etc.  in  informal  but  polite  situations.
More  intimate situations  may well  omit  the  'softener'. Each  of  these
elements will have several possible realisations,  and these can be practised
in  language learning in a systematic way.
Different  roles  and  settings will  generate different  structures for  such
adjacency pairs,  and discourse analysts try  to observe in natural data just
what  patterns  occur  in  particular  settings. Scarcella  and Brunak  (1981)
compared  native  and  non-native  speakers'  strategies  for  giving  informal
invitations.  The  native speakers  prefaced  their invitations  (e.g.  'I  was
wondering, uh,  we're  having a  party  .  .  .  '),  while  the  non-natives  were
sometimes too formal  or too blunt  (e.g.  'I  would  like  to  invite you  to a
party';  'I  want  you  to  come  in  a party').  Similarly,  it  seems  that  native
speakers  usually preface  disagreement  second  pair-parts  in  English with
partial  agreement  ('yes,  but.  .  .  ')  and with softeners (Pearson 1986). This
sort oi  observation has direct implications for the design of  role play  and
similar activities and what linguistic elements need to be pre-taught, where
learners are  instructed to behave in ways specified by the activity and where
the goal is a simulation of  'real  life'  discourse.
Observation  of  the behaviour  of  native  and  non-native speakers  is
all-important,  and  differences in  such  behaviour  can  enable  teachers  to
pinpoint linguistic deficiencies which can be made up by  concentrating on
particular areas  and  realisations.  Trosborg  (1987),  for  instance,  who
studied  apology  strategies,  found  that  because  of  lower linguistic  com-
petence,  her non-native speaker subjects resorted  more  to  ritualised
apology  formulae  than did native speaker  subjects.  The native speakers
used  other strategies such  as  'repair  offers'  (e.g.  'oh  dear,  let me get you
another  one'),  or  even  challenged  the  accusation.  In  short,  the native
speakers elaborated the apology,  but one must have the linguistic equip-
ment  to  do  this  in  an  L2.  Again,  this  emphasises  the  importance  of
pre-teaching  particular  strategies  and the  language  that  realises  them;
otherwise, role plays can  become  no more than  tests  that  learners  are
certain to fail. 5  Spoken language
Data-based observations  of  the  kinds  referred  to above  question  the
adequacy of formula-based 'functional' teaching of the  type  that swept  into
fashion  in English  language teaching in  the late 1970s, and underline the
wisdom of the  trend towards a broader-based and eclectic  lexico-grammati-
cal input to  enable the learner to  'behave'  naturally. However, this is not to
deny  the usefulness of  formulae as a  survival kit at the most  elementary
levels, nor should we forget that much native-speaker language is formu-
laic; it is simply  that the native speaker usually has a vastly greater range of
formulae to call upon for use in a wider range of,strategic  domains, along
with a flexible and adaptable lexicon of  non-formtlla bad  items.
The principle of  adjacency pairs  and how  they  are realid in natural
speech point to the importance of creating minimal contexts in the teaching
of  common communicative functions  and  the  limited value  of  teaching
single utterances. We have  seen  once again  that  the  structure  and  elab-
oration of  the adjacency pair is determined by role and setting, and that the
functions of  its component utterances depend on the co-presence of  both
pam. In Chapter 1  we additionally noted the importance of  the follow-up
move in signalling function. Considering  the follow-up move as well brings
us back to the notion of  the exchange as a significant unit of discourse.
Chapter 1  described the exchange as the central unit  in the Birmingham-
type analysis  of classroom  talk, and showed  that it could be applied outside
of  the classroom  too (section 1.6). Exchanges are  independently observable
entities; adjacency pairs may be found within their boundaries, but first and
second pair-parts do not necessarily coincide with initiating and respond-
ing moves. In (5.4) below, there is such a coincidence, but in (5.5) adjacency
pairing occurs in the initiation  and  response (statement of achievement  -
congratulation), and  in  the  responding  and  follow-up move  (congratu-
lation -  thanks):
(5.4)  A:  Congratulations on the new job, by the way.
B:  Oh, thanks.
(5.5)  A:  I've just passed my driving test.
B:  Oh, congratulations.
A:  Thanks.
Particularly noticeable in the Sinclair-Coulthard  data was  the pattern of
the three-part exchange in traditional classrooms, where the teacher made
the  initiation  and  the  fdllow-up  move,  while  pupils  were  restricted  to
responding moves. In a good many language classes this is  still the pattern,
especially in situations where large classes of perhaps 40 to 50 pupils is  the
norm. Where this happens,  it is likely that pupils will have the chancc to 5.3  Exchanges
practise  only  a  very  impoverished  range  of  utterance  functions.  In  such
language classrooms, learners rarely get the opportunity to take other than
the  responding  role,  and even  in cases where students are encouraged  to
initiate,  the follow-up move  is often still  in  the hands of  the teacher,  and
learners get little or no practice in  this particular discourse function.
It  is  worth  looking  at  some  common  follow-up  moves in eliciting
exchanges  in  everyday  talk. While speakers  outside  classrooms  do  not
usually  behave like  teachers  and  evaluate  the  quality  of  one  another's
utterances  (in terms  of  correctness,  fluency, etc.), they  often  evaluate  (or
at  least  react  to)  its  content;  we  might  compare what  can  sometimes
happen  in  the  classroom  (5.6) with  what  is likely  to happen  in  the-real
world  (5.7):
(5.6)  Teacher:  Now Maria, you ask Fumiko.
Maria: What did you do at the weekend?
Fumiko:  I went to Wales.
Teacher:  Good, now Fumiko, you ask Marco,  .  .  .  (etc.)
(5.7)  Maria: What did you do at the weekend?
Fumiko:  I went to Wales.
Maria:  Oh, really? Where did you go?
Follow-up moves of this latter kind might include: how nice, that's  interest-
ing,  oh dear, how awful, lucky you,  oh  no,  I  see,  did you,  right.  These
evaluations can also occur in the responding move in informing exchanges.
They  are of  interest  because they  are often  not  directly  translatable lan-
guage  to  language  (compare  Swedish  sager  du  det?,  Spanish  jay!  iq~e'
horror!, with English realisations such as really? and how awful!). What is
more,  they  are often noticeably  absent from  the  learner's  natural  conver-
sational discourse, where instead we may get  a  range of  vocalisations or
'noises'  that can be  'culturally  peculiar'  to the English ear (cf. the Japanese
tendency to use an extended o-o-o-o-h in reply to a wide range of initiations
and responses).
Reader activity 2  d
One  possible  way  of  getting learners  to  practise adjacency  pairs  and
exchange structures in  the classroom after the necessary realisations have
been  taught  is to use function-chain activities. A  sequence of  functions is
decided upon and role cards given to pairs of  learners instructing them to
play out a sequence of  events calculated  to generate the desired  functions.
On the following page there is a real example of  two non-native speakers
acting out their  instructions, which  are reproduced  before  the  transcript.
To what extent do you  think the activity achieves its aims?  Is the exchange
structure natural, and are  the adjacency pairs realised in natural ways? 5  Spoken language
Language for pre-teaching in the presentation segment of  the lesson:
asking for and giving topical information; saying one is unable to
give information, etc.  (e.g.  'What's  been happening?'; 'catch  up on
sth'; 'Sorry, I can't  tell you';  exciting events',  'be up to date',  etc.).
Role card A:
You've  just  come back from a holiday abroad and are talking to a
friend/colleague, B.
1.  Try and catch up on the national news you've  missed while away.
2.  Try in particular to find out if anything important has happened on the
political scene. Get as much detail as you can.
3.  Find out about an important sporting event you know you have missed.
Role card B:
You are talking to your friendlcolleague, A,  who has just  returned
from a holiday abroad.
1.  Tell himher you are not really up-todate either and explain why.
2.  You do know of one important political event; tell himlher what it
was.
3.  Apologise for not knowing what's  been happening  in the world of
sport, and explain why.
Sample transcript:
A:  Well, what happened in this country in the last six weeks?
B:  I really cankll  you, I haven't read any newspapers.
A:  Wasn't  there a big event in politics?
B:  Yes, it turned out the Democrats got a new leader.
A:  Oh, I see,  that's interesting, can you tell me more about it?
B:  Awfully sorry, I heard it on the radio but I was too tired and I
don't  remember.
A:  Doesn't matter. What about Manchester United's game?
B:  Sorry, I'm not interested in football.
(ICC data I%&-90)
There does often seem to be a  need  for encouraging learners to practise
common follow-up strategies  of  the type we have looked at, and design of
speaking activities will once again be crucial, especially the roles learners
are  to perform. Getting students  to  interview one another on given subjects
should yield questionanswer sequences with opportunities for the qua- 5.3  Exchanges
tioners to use follow-up moves, but if  the questioner perceives hislher  role
as  a  'journalistic'  interviewer  rather than  learning  about  someone  and
exchanging  information,  then  the  journalistic  role,  with its  typical  low
occurrence  of  follow-up  moves, may  be  the  one  played  out.  There  is
evidence of this in the following piece of learner dialogue, where student A
is interviewing  student B.  B is recounting his career:
(5.8)  B:  Well, I studied theology and qualified as a priest.
A:  Oh!
B:  But after I saw this job,  this job  as a priest  is nothing for me,  I  .  .  .
A:  Did you not like it?
B:  It was much  too stressing.
A:  It. . .  is it not a bit like a social worker?
B:  Yes,  it's  .  .  . most part of  it is social work, but that, that troubles
and the psychological  troubles,  they, they  told to me,  ah, I
couldn't  manage to,  to stand all, you understand? And then  I get
sick, and my heart was and so . . .
A:  Became ill.
B:  Yes,  ill, and, and I left the job.  It wasn't,  I wasn't  able to stand it.
A:  Do you think you were too young?
B:  Perhaps, I  thought, yes, perhaps  this is .  . .  the, the young people
didn't  come to the church, and @ere were too less young people,
and too ma  .  . .  too mu  .  .  .  too many old peoples,  and I felt I'm
too young for this job,  I,  in ten years perhaps . . .
A:  You might go back?
B:  Or in fifteen I can go back, yes  .  . .
(ICC data 1988-90)
The interview continues in this vein throughout. Only in her first turn in the
extract does A evaluate B's  utterance, with a simple 'oh!';  at other potential
follow-up  move  slots she  is  concerned with helping B  in  his  utterances
('became  ill',  'you  might go back'). We get none of  the typical  interactive
follow-ups listed earlier that are  found in natural conversation; speaker A is
competently playing out the role of  'questioner'  imposed by  the interview-
ing situation, with  the addition of giving support  to her interlocutor.
Reader activity  3 dl
Look at  this further  piece of learner-learner interview data on the following
page and consider the follow-up moves (or  lack of  them). Taking also into
consideration  the  initiating moves,  what  evidence  is  there  of  how  the
speakers perceive their roles? (Student B is explaining his surname to student A.)  -
B:  The  name Akkad is a very, has a very long story, it goes back  to
at least 2,000 years.  It was a state between Syria*  Iraq and Jordan,
they called it the the Akkada  .  . .  and this is where my name been,
ah, deriven from, you know  . .  .  I'm  not bluffing, but this is a
small story about name.
A:  It's  quite interesting, and em, so  you, where are you from?
B:  Syria, Middle East.
A:  And you live here in Switzerland?
B:  Yes,  ah, for about 23 years.
A:  Can you tell me a bit about you?
B:  About myself, well,  I .  .  .
A:  About what, what .  .  .
B:  What I've done here? Wdl, I've,  erm, when I first came to
Switzerland, I've  studied first a little German language.
A:  Yes.
B:  I mean I learnt the German language, it was very difficult.
A:  It's hard, isn't  it?
B:  Yes, particularly  the Swiss German . . .  (etc.)
(ICC data 198&90)
Close  examination of  learner data  can  tell  us  a  lot about how activity
design affects output. The absence of  a feature in  learner talk may  not
necessarily mean  that the feature has not been acquired; it may  simply be
that the activity does not generate its natural use. The intimate relationship
between  exchange  structure and  role  and  setting means  that  designing
activities for  speaking involves variables  that will  have  an effect  on  the
exchange  patterns  of  the  output.  Interview-style  patterns  are  fine  if
interview-language  is the desired goal; they are a poor substitute for natural
conversational patterns if  that is the goal. Conversational data do contain
stretches where initiate-respond-initiaterespond  is the pattern, but rarely
for long periods, such a pattern extended over a whole conversation would
almost certainly lead  the person on  the receiving end of  the questions to
assess  the  event  as  having  been 'like  an  interrogation'.  This  is  not  to
underestimate  the  difficulty  of  designing  activities which  will  generate
natural conversational exchange patterns among learners, nor to say that
such an enterprise is doomed to failure; it is simply to  isolate one of  the
levels  of  difficulty involved. Discourse  analysis can highlight problem
areas; it cannot give simple solutions to the problems. Much has been made in discourse analysis of the study of turn-taking, and
one can hardly write an  introductory survey of  discourse studies without
noting the work done in this field. In the classic ethnomethodological way,
discourse  analysts have observed how participants organise themselves  to
take turns at  talk. In any piece of natural English discourse, turns will occur
smoothly, with  only  little  overlap  and  interruption,  and only  very brief
silences between  turns (on average,  less than a second). People take turns
when  they are selected or nominated by the current speaker, or  if no one is
selected, they may  speak of  their own accord  (self-selection). If  neither of
these  conditions  applies,  the person  who  is currently speaking may  con-
tinue (Sacks et a!.  1974). While the current speaker is talking, listeners are
attentive to  the syntactic completeness or otherwise of  the speaker's contri-
bution,  and  to  clues  in  the pitch  level  that may  indicate  that  a  turn  is
coming to a close (see section 4.6). There are specific linguistic devices for
getting the turn when one is unable to enter the normal flow of turn-taking
or when  the setting demands that specific conventions be  followed. These
vary greatly in level of  formality and appropriacy to different situations ('If
I may, Mr Chairman',  'I wonder if  I might say something', 'Can  I just come
in  here',  'Hang  on  a minute',  'Shut  up will  you,  I  can't  get  a word  in
edgewise'). There are also linguistic means of  not taking the turn when one
has the opportunity, or simply of making it clear to the speaker that we are
attending  to  the message.  Thqse  are usually referred  to as back-channel
responses, and consist of vocali~ations  such as mm, ah-ha, and short words
and phrases such as yeah,  no,  right,  sure (see Yngve  1970). Back-channel
realisations vary interestingly from culture to culture (some languages have
back-channel vocalisations  that  sound odd  in English, such  as eh-eh,  or
highly nasalised  sounds).  Another feature  of  turn-taking  is  the  way
speakers predict  one  another's utterances  and  often complete  them  for
them, or overlap with  them  as they complete; we saw this happening to a
certain extent  in  the way  our  student  interviewer  helped  her partner  in
extract (5.8).
Natural  conversational  data  can  often  seem  chaotic because  of  back-
channel, utterance-completions  and overlaps, as in this extract:
(5.9)  (A and B are discussing domestic pets.)
A:  Well, of course, people who go to the vet's  are
B:  [ Mm.
A:  interested in  the cats and dogs, ain't they?
B:  L Yeah, but the people that first
have pets kit-pets  er don't realise what's involved, do  they?
A:  [  care  [ Well  it sorts them
out, you know, those that don't care that's  it  so .  .  .  but
B:  LM~  LM~ 5  Spoken language
A:  if you wanna, you know, somebody that's  keen on having a pet
B:  L ~rn L ~rn
A:  and want it in  good order.
B:  [ Done .  .  .  done properly, that's  right, yeah.
(Lawley data 1987)
This extract  is not at all untypical. Such a transcript looks so messy that we
would probably never dream of using it in an English  language class as a
dialogue for learners. Even on the rare occasions  when authentic  dialogue  is
transcribed in teaching materials, it is usually so 'cleaned up'  that it bears
little  resemblance  to  raw  data.  Such  real  data  are  a  reminder  of  how
idealid are the representations of  speech not only in teaching materials,
but in novels, so-called 'verbatim'  reports (such as reports of parliamentary
debates), radio and television soap operas and drama in general. Raw data
of this kind, if well-recorded, still have a use in extensive listening activities
for more advanced learners, but we have to resign ourselves  to the inevita-
bility that most conversational  data used in class  or  transcribed  in materials
will have ordered, non-overlapping turn-taking.
The traditional classroom, as observed by  Sinclair and Coulthard, has
very ordered turn-taking under the control of the teacher, and pupils rarely
speak out of  turn. More recent trends in classroom organisation, such as
pair and group work, attempt  to  break this rigid turn-taking pattern; but do
not always  succeed in recreating more natural patterns. Often  the problem
lies, as before, in activity design. We are all familiar with role plays where
individuals are so  intent on  formulating their contributions and making
them at the 'right' moment as determined by  the activity rubric, that they
pay little attention to the contributions of others, and the natural patterns
of  back-channel,  utterance completion,  etc.  simply  do not  occur.  The
looser  the restrictions on what  and when  people  may  speak,  the more
naturally the turn-taking emerges. Extract (5.8),  for all its faults, contains
fairly natural turn-taking, as one would expect in an interview, and it also
contains utterance completion, which one might not expect if  the 'journal-
istic'  role were fully dominant all of  the time.
It is not a question of  telling learners  that speakers  take turns; they know
this naturally from their own language. The problem is to make sure that
activities generate the natural sorts of  turn-taking that occur in the  targct
discourse type and so not inhibit  typical  turn-taking  patterns. But two other
problems might  arise in  connexion with  turn-taking: one is  the fact that
dominant and garrulous  speakers often grab too many turns (gender  can be
a factor here), and the other is the question of culture-specific conventions.
Problems of dominant speakers can be partially solved by giving people
with such tendencies restricted roles in activities, and quieter learners will
often  rise  to  the  challenge of  a  major  speaker role  in the  comparative
anonymity  provided  by  role  plays  and  similar activities.  The  culture- specific problems are more complex. For instance,  in some cultures, silence
has a more acceptable role  than  in others. Many  teachers will be familiar
with individuals or groups from cultures where longer silences seem to be
tolerated in conversation  (e.g. Finns), or where the 'thinking  time'  before a
response  is  forthcoming  seems  agonisingly  long  (a  tendency  observable
among Japanese learners). Discourse analysts have looked at  such phenom-
ena and try to describe  the different norms that speakers from different cul-
tures orient to during such behaviour. A set of norms in one culture might
decree that talk must be kept going, whenever possible, even if only to 'buy
time';  another culture might decree that  face must be preserved wherever
possible, and not put at  risk by unconsidered talk. Rule-conflicts  of this type
are  often seen to be the underlying cause of conversational breakdowns (e.g.
for Japanese versus American norms, see Noguchi 1987).  It is not easy to see
how the language teacher can solve such problems, except to draw attention
to the  typical  behaviour of  the target culture, and  to warn  learners of  the
possible consequences of  transferring L1 conventions to the L2 context.
Other features of  how  turns are given  and gained  in English may  also
prompt  specific  awareness  training where  necessary;  these  include body
language such as inhalation and head movement as a  turn-seeking signal,
eye contact, gesticulation, etc., as well  as linguistic phenomena  such as a
drop in pitch (see Chapter 4) or use of grammatical tags.
Lexical  realisations  of  turn  management  can  be  taught  directly.  In
addition  to the range of phrases mentioned above for getting the turn and
not  being  interrupted  in  formal and  informal  settings,  there  are conven-
tional phrases for interrupting ('Can I interrupt for a moment?', 'Hang on a
minute,  I've  got  something  to  tell  youY,  'Sorry  to  butt  in,  but  .  .  .  '),  for
pre-planning one's turn ('I'll  try to be brief, but there are a number of  things
. . .  '; 'There were  three  things  I wanted  to say';  'Just  two  things, Mary,
. . .  ')  and for closing ('And  just  one last point';  'One more second and I'll
finish',  'One last thing, Bill',  'And  that's  it').
Our overall conclus~G  is that turn-taking in itself is something that may
not need  to be 'taught',  but specific linguistic realisations can be presented
and practised and significant cultural differences can at least be pointed out
to the learner.
Reader activity 4  d
Look at  this transcript of a natural conversation, which has the turn-taking
transcribed just as it occurred naturally.  'Clean  it up'  (i.e. make it presenta-
ble as a dialogue to be  read  in  class with  a group of  learners). Make the
turn-taking sequential by  removing overlaps and back-channel utterances
and add any extra punctuation you feel  is necessary. How does  it now look?
Does it still feel natural, or has it lost too much  in the revision? S  Spoken language
(B has just arrived, after a long car journey,  at A's house.)
A:  Sit down  .  .  .  you're  all right then?
B:  Yes okay Jack, I er I did a daft  thing though, I planned the
route out you know I had it all written out
C:  1  Yeah
B:  1  and
unlike most people, you sex a signpost Repley so I took  it.
C:  1  Yeah.
B:  And I came over Mistham  by  the reservoirs, nice it was.
A:  [ Oh, by Mistharn, over the top
.  .  .  nice run.
B:  Colours are pleasant, aren't
C:  Yeah.
A:  Nice*  that.
B:  Yeah, we enjoyed it .  .  .  wasn't  the way we  intended but as
A:  [ No.
. . .  it was nice.
A:  We were just  talking about that.
B:  Oh yes,  it was all right.
(Author's data 1989)
5.5  Transadions and topics
5.5.1  Transactions
Here we are concerned with how speakers manage longer stretches of  talk.
In Chapter 1,  we looked briefly at  transaction boundary markers and noted
that, although  they  are  most  marked in settings  such  as  classrooms,
doctor's surgeries and formal  interviews, they are also present  in conver-
sation, especially marking out openings and closings. We also considered
the question of  realisations of  markers in different languages.
The  teacher can isolate, present and exemplify a set of useful transaction
markers such as right,  now, so,  okay,  and so on, for example, by drawing
attention  to how  helshe  uses  markers  to divide up  a lesson.  It  is often
interesting  to get learners to see  if  these translate directly into  their L1,  and
to ask them to consider what words L1  uses to mark such boundaries and to
compare these across languages  if possible. But providing contexts  in which
learners  can then practise  these markers  is more difficult.  If  it was the
teacher who traditionally marked out the boundaries of  chunks of business
in the classroom,  then the most obvious way to hand over to  the  learner this
particular function  is to generate activities where the learners themselves
are responsible  for segmenting  the business, and where activities  need to be 5.5  Transactions and topics
opened and closed within a specified time limit. Task-based learning seems
especially  well  suited  to  this  sort  of  learner-management  of  the  larger
discourse, when  groups and  sub-groups have to achieve a  specified goal,
arrive  at  decisions  or  produce  some  other  recognisable  'real-world'
outcome as stages along the way of  completing some preconceived  task or
set  of  tasks.  One actual example from which  the next  data  samples  are
taken is a task where advanced learners, in groups, have to decide on how
to arrange a room for a school open day. They must make decisions on the
disposition of the furniture and what extra furniture will be needed in order
to write a note  for the school caretaker to act upon  (the next stage of  the
task). When  observed  in  their discussions  (there were  no predetermined
'chairpersons'),  various members of  both  sub-groups  spontaneously used
opening  and  closing markers with  the  characteristic falling  intonation
followed  by  a  jump  to high  key  for openings and  a drop to  low key  for
closing markers (see section 4.8). For example:
\
\
WHERE  shall we have the TABLES?
(5.10)  A:  / RIT  /  J4  1
\
WHAT about the REAding area?
(5.11)  B:II$~w/  L  /
\
(5.12)  C:  / RIGHT  /
THAT'S~TI
L
(Author's data 1989)
These were advanced learners, but it is the activity itself and their responsi-
bility for its conduct rather than their level of English alone that generates
the natural use of  these transaction markers.
Another way of  raising awareness of  boundary markers and producing
data for discussion is by using 'topping-and-tailing'  activities. A dialogue is
taken, and the beginning and end removed, so that what is left is clearly the
'middle'  of a piece of  talk (just as in extract (1.5)  on page 10 and the reader
activity  that  follows  it).  The  instruction  to  the  learners (in pairs  or  in
groups) is to add a beginning  and an end so that the dialogue represents  a
meeting between  two friends who talk briefly  and then have to part. This
generates greeting and  leave-taking  adjacency pairs,  but  also produces a
need for opening and closing markers (e.g.  'Hello, what's new?', 'Anyway,  I
must go',  'Well,  I'll give you a ring soon',  'Look,  I can't  stop now').
5.5.2  Topics
Several questions  arise  around  the  notion  of  topic,  not  least,  what  is  a
topic? Another set of questions concerns how topics are opened, developed,
changed and closed, and what linguistic resources are available for this.
The question 'What  is a topic?' may  strike many  language teachers  as otiose, but  there  are different ways of  looking at topic.  Topics could be
defined, on the formal level,  as stretches of  talk bounded by  certain topic
and/or transactional markers, such as lexical ones (by the way, to change
the subject), or phonological ones (changes  in pitch). Or we could  take a
semantic framework, and try to express  the content of different segments of
talk according to single-word or phrasal titles  (e-g. 'holidays',  'buying a
house'), or else we could usk  interactive criteria and say that something is
only a topic if more than one  speaker makes an utterance relevant to it. We
could equally take an overall pragmatic approach and say that topics are
strings of utterances perceived as relevant to one another by participants in
talk. Or we could take a purely surface  cohesional view, and say that topics
end where chains of  lexical cohesion peter out (see  section 3.3). All of  these
approaches are valid in some measure;  the one that  tends  to  dominate
language teaching materials  is  the  expression  of  topics  as  titles for  the
'subject  matter'  of  speech events. Here we hope  to supplement that view
with a consideration of  structural and interactive features of  topics.
Topics can be the reason for talk or they can arise because people are
already talking. The  former situation is exemplified in this extract, where A
has put on some new clothes for a special occasion and B and C are casting
an eye over his appearance, at A's  request:
(5.13)  (A comes in holding his jacket.)
B:  That looks very nice, put it on and let's have a look at you.
A:  I don't  like the two buttons,  I didn't know it had two buttons,  I
thought it had three.
C:  Well, it's  the style of the coat, Ken.
B:  Nick's  has only got two buttons.
c:  [ It's  a low cut.
A:  [ All right?
B:
c:  Very  [  Eieautiful.
B:  Lovely, lovely.
A:  Does it look nice?
B:  Yeah,  it goes very well with  those trousers, there's a colour in the
jacket  that picks up the colour in  the trousers.
C:  Them others he wears are striped, but they clashed, too much
alike.
A:  L Two different stripes
C:  lBut not matching each other if you
understand what I mean.
B:  Yeah, yeah..  .
A:  [  i~h;ll!  right then, eh?
B:  It's  very nice, Dad,  it  looks very, very good.
A:  I don't like the,  I  like three buttons, you see .  .  .
C:  Ken, it's  the style of  the coat!
(Author's data 1989) 5.5  Transactions and topics
The  talk has been occasioned by  a set of  actions and events taking place at
that  time,  but there are different ways of  describing  the  'topic' here. We
could take  a pragmatic view, based  on relevance  criteria,  and simply say
'whether A's  coat is all right'  is the topic. We could give it a semantic-field
'headline' such as 'trying on clothes',  since all the utterances are relevant to
that and the main  lexical items belong to that semantic field, or we could
make it more functional and call it 'convincing A that his clothes are nice',
since  the  functions of most  of  the discourse acts are concerned with  that
end, and  all  three parties are collaborating on that subject.  On the other
hand, for A himself, it is clear that 'three-button  versus two-button jackets'
is an important 'topic',  but if we consider it interactively, it gets short shrift
from  the  others,  especially  from  C,  who  interrupts  and  cuts  dead  A's
attempt to revive the topic (there  are further paralinguistic cues in C's  final
turn,  such  as exaggerated  pitch  range  and extra  intensity  and diphthong
length  on  style). We  therefore  conclude  that  'three  or  two  buttons'  is  a
sub-topic, or merely a speaker's  topic that never quite makes it to become a
full conuersational topic (see Brown and Yule 1983: 87-94).
Extract  (5.13) was  occasioned  by  particular  events,  and  talk was  an
essential  ingredient in achieving a specific goal, but in most casual conver-
sations, we  find  topics  being raised  for a variety  of  reasons, often  just  to
keep the talk going, simply because people are together and 'chatting'.  It is
on such occasions  that we  see most clearly  how  topics  start, grow,  shift,
merge into one another and come to a close.  In extract (5.14), a group of
four  people  are  having a  New  Year  drink  together,  and  A  has  been
recounting  the story of how his luggage got sent to the wrong airport on a
recent skiing holiday:
(5.14)  A:  . . .  no bother to me,  'cos  I happened  to have in my side pack a
spare vest and  socks you see.
B:  [ Ah, I  see, that was in your hand baggage
A:  [ was  And it?  I'd  got my  toilet equipment with me.
B:  Yeah, it's  a good idea to take a few basic things in the hand
baggage, isn't  it,  I  think in case of  that.
A:  [Yeah, well  it's  usually the things you  require
first, you  see, sometimes you don't have time to unpack all your
luggage when you arrive.
B:  Still, pretty horrendous,  though.
A:  Oh, it was very unsettling, . .  .  still, so many other unsettling
factors I didn't know whether I was on my head or my heels that
day.
B:  Mm  .  .  .
C:  D'you  do a lot of  skiing then?
A:  I go each year, yes  .  . .  it's my  only chance of  getting my weight
down, you  see, and it isn't  the exercise that does it, it's the fact
that the meals are so far apart. S  Spoken language
C:  (laughs)
D:  Yeah?
A:  Yes, I'm not joking.  .  .  if we eat say, right, breakfast eight, lunch
one, evening meal six, perhaps a snack after that then  you're
eating four times a day, but
C:  I  You'd
never get no skiing in would mu?
A:  Well, in these places, you breakfast at eight, well, half past eight,
.  .  .  (etc.)
(Author's data 1989)
Within a very short space of  time the conversation has moved from losing
luggage at an airport to skiing, to weight-watching and exercise, to meal-
times at hotels. It remains coherent within  the overall framework of  'A's
recent holiday',  but how does  it drift from sub-topic to sub-topic? Struc-
tural features are apparent. The speakers do give lexical and phonological
cues that they feel a particular sub-topic has been  sufficiently explored: as
the first sub-topic is exhausted, B and A both use still  (a typical boundary
marker, with falling  intonation and  a  short  pause),  and  both  give  a
summary or general evaluation of what has gone before,  another  typical
closing move.  C introduces the new sub-topic, skiing, with the character-
istic jump to high key we have noted elsewhere. Skiing has been an element
in A's  lost luggage anecdote (it was a skiing holiday), and using an element
from a  just  completed story as the topic of  subsequent conversation has
been observed to be a very common speaker behaviour (Jefferson 1978).  A's
reply includes a  drop in pitch  on yes,  then a pause,  and  then a shift  to
talking  about  keeping his weight down,  meals  and  exercise, which  are
associatively  linked sub-topics  (see  Stech 1982),  triggered  off  by  one
another, an extremely common feature in this kind of  casual conversation.
We might also note that topic shifts occur in the vicinity of  short silences,
indicated by  '  .  . .  '  in the  transcript; this has also been observed as a regular
feature of casual conversation (see Maynard 1980).
Look at this extract from further on in the drinks conversation (5.14). The
talk has drifted to Christmas in the village where the speakers live, which
was  the  period  that  A  was away  on  his skiing holiday.  Analyse  the
sub-topic shifts in terms of the linguistic features at  their boundaries. High
and low key are not marked, but where might you expect them to occur?
B: No .  .  .  it was generally very quiet and the weather was .  .  .  what
did it do, it just  it was quite sunny actually.
D:  [  It was quite sunny a couple of  the days. 5.5  Transactions and topics
B:  Christmas Day was quite sunny  we went for a walk, had a
splendid walk.
D:  I  In the morning, it rained in the
afternoon.
A:  British Christmases rarely change, it's  a time for gorging yourself
and going for walks.
B:  Yeah, that's  right, and you never get any snow.
C:  Yes,  it was very sunny Christmas Day.
B:  Mm.
A:  Mm.
B:  Mm . . .  when are you heading off again, Bob?
A:  A week  today  .  .  .  I shall be off  to Munich this time  .  .  .  so I'm
just wondering where the luggage is going to go, and looking at
my case now, I find that it's  burst open, and whether it's  fair wear
and tear I don't know, because last time I saw it it was in perfect
nick.
B:  You reckon it might have suffered from its journey.
A:  Oh, they get slung about you know, I never used  to get a decent
case, I buy  a cheap one.
B:  Mm.
A:  Because they just get scratched.
B:  Mm.
(Author's data 1989)
What implications, if  any, does all this have for  language teaching? Lan-
guage teachers have always concentrated on the vocabulary of  topics, and
this makes good sense,  for without a wide vocabulary it is  impossible  to  talk
on a  topic,  and, as we  have  noted, semantic and  associative coherence
between  lexical  items  is  an extremely common means of  developing and
changing topics. But the interactive features of topics can also be taught and
practised, such as the use of markers, both opening ones (by  the way, inci-
dentally,  I meant to ask you, talking of X) and closing ones (still, anyway,  so
there we are), or summarising a stretch of  talk  and reacting to it with an
evaluation (sounds  atuful, it was all rather unsettling, quite strange, really).
Listening  activities can raise  learners' awareness  of how speakers mark topic
shifts by means of  activities focusing on points in the talk where speakers
make summaries and evaluations, and on markers and pitch changes.
The  design  of  classroom  activities  to  replicate casual conversational
settings  is  notoriously  difficult;  it  is  much  easier  to  set  up  the sort  of
functional dialogue  exemplified  in  (5.13) ('convincing X  histher  clothes
look  nice').  However, activities where a short anecdote is  recounted and
partners or groups have to develop a conversation based on some element
within the anecdote, or  the  game-type where a preordained list of topics has S  Spoken language
to be talked about in a set time with coherent links between each subject,
can go some way  towards creating the conditions wherein topic manage-
ment arises naturally. As with other activities, the output can be evaluated
against what we  know about  natural  data,  and design  changes effected
accordingly. Perhaps most  important of  all  is  to try  to  recreate the reci-
procity  that  is  typical of  conversation; A  tells B something about hislher
life,  feelings or experiences and,  typically,  B  returns with things  about
hislher own life and experiences. The same tends to happen with stories:
one story by one speaker is likely to trigger off a series of  stories by others
present. We saw how interview-type activities carry with them the danger
that talk will be one-sided, with a questioner and a respondent trapped  in
their roles, and a lack of  reciprocity. The activity design, or the teacher as
monitor  of  the  activity,  should  therefore build in some mechanism  for
ensuring reciprocity, such as activities where participants have to find out
what they have in common or where  they differ  in terms of a specified  list of
features relating to opinions, biography, pastimes, etc.  (e.g. see some of the
speaking activities in Collie and Slater 1991).
5.6  Interactional  and tranrurctlonal  talk
A distinction is often made by discourse analysts between transactional and
interactional  talk. Transactional  talk  is  for getting  business done  in  the
world, i.e.  in order  to  produce some change in the situation that pertains. It
could  be  to  tell somebody something  they  need  to  know,  to  effect  the
purchase of  something, to get someone to do something, or many  other
world-changing  things. Interactional  talk,  on  the other hand,  has  as  its
primary functions the  lubrication  of  the social wheels,  establishing roles
and relationships with another person prior to transactional talk, confirm-
ing and consolidating relationships, expressing solidarity, and so on. The
group of  speakers in extract  (5.13) were engaged mainly  in transactional
talk (finalising  someone's dress arrangements), while in (5.14)  the speakers
were engaged in primarily interactional talk, just chamng about someone's
holiday and enjoying a social drink. The words mainly and primarily  are
used to underline the fact that  talk is rarely all one  thing or  the other, and,
in a sense, it is almost impossible to conceive of  talk  between two people
that does not, in some  small way, 'change  the world',  even  if  that only
means getting to know someone a little better. Also,  it is important  to note
that  natural  data  show  that  even  in  the most  strictly 'transactional'  of
settings, people often engage in interactional talk, exchanging chat about
the weather and many unpredictable things, as  in these exchanges: the first
is in a British chemist's  shop; the second is a university porter  registering
some newly arrived students at their campus accommodation: 5.7  Stories, anecdotes,  jokes
(5.15)  Customer: Can you give me a strong painkiller for an abscess, or else
a suicide note.
Assistant:  (laughing) Oh dear! Well, we've got . .  .  (etc.)
(Author's field notes)
(5.16)  Porter:  So, Foti  . . . and Spampinato . . .  (writes their names) are you
Italians?  I'm studying Italian Art,  only pan  time, of course, I
love it, I  love Italian Art.
Student:  (looking bewildered) Excuse me?
(Author's field notes)
The data in Aston (1988)  of service  encounters in Italian bookshops show a
constant tendency  for customers and assistants  to engage in  some sort of
friendly chat either before or afier the mainly transactional phase. This can,
at  times,  be  fairly unnerving  for the  foreign  language learner  who has
carefully  worked  out  what  to  say  before  engaging  in  a  transactional
encounter  in L2,  only to find  it all  thrown  into confusion  by  unexpected
friendly chat from the other party.
In  illustrating with  real data that the borders between  transactional and
interactional  language are often blurred, discourse analysts are not saying
anything  blindingly  new  or contrary  to most sensible  intuition, but  the
point is certainlyworth remembering in the design of speaking activities for
the language classroom, and there is no doubt that some  teaching materials
are imbalanced between  the two types of  talk.
Belton (1988)  criticises what he sees as  a tendency in language teaching of
the notional-functional  school to overemphasise transactional  language at
the expense of  interactional, and makes a plea for a better balance between
the  two.  This  implies  that  some  sort  of  unpredictability  be  built  in  to
activities such as service encounter role plays, or, perhaps most effectively,
in listening activities. The  general point also reflects  the experience of many
Languages  for  Specific Purposes  (LSP) teachers  who  are  told  by  course
participants  that it is the unpredictable social talk that throws them rather
than talk in their specialist contexts.
5.7  Stories, anecdotes, jokes
Almost  any piece of  conversational  data between  friends will ~ield  occa-
sions where people  engage in  the  telling of  stories, anecdotes,  jokes  and
other kinds of  narratives. The ability to tell a good story or  joke  is a highly
regarded  talent, probably  in all cultures. As with other types of  language
events, discourse analysts have sought to describe what all narratives have
in common. Brief mention was made in section 2.4  of a model of narrative
developed  by  Labov  (1972). The Labov model,  rather, like the problem-
solution model we have referred  to at various points in this book,  specifies elements that are commonly found in normal narratives. They are:
E
Abstract  v
a
Orientation  1
U
Complicating event  a
t
Resolution  I
0
Coda  n
Abstracts  are short statements of what the story is going to be about ('I
must tell you about an embarrassing moment yesterday'). Orientation sets
out the time,  place and characters for the reader/listener  ('you  know that
secretary in our office, well,  last week  .  .  .  ').  Complicating events  are the
main events that make the story happen  ('the Xerox machine caught fire').
Resolutions  are how the events sort themselves out ('and she got Z2,000
compensation'), while codas provide a bridge between the story world and
the moment of  telling ('and  ever  since, I've  never been  able  to  look  at a
mango without  feeling  sick').  Not  all stories have all  these ingredients;
abstracts  and codas may be absent, but the other elements must be there for
it  to  be  a real  story.  In  addition, there  is what is  termed  evaluation,
deliberately set vertically in our list to show it as an element that weaves in
and out of  the story constantly. Evaluation means making the story worth
listening tolreading,  either by  directly telling one's  audience ('you'll  love
this one';  'it's  not the world's funniest  joke,  but I like  it7)  or by a number of
devices internal  to the story such as exaggeration  ('he  came in with  this
huge,  gi-norrnous watermelon'), recreating  noises,  etc. ('and  she went
scr-r-r-r-u-u-nch, splat, right  into the  tree')  or constantly evaluating indi-
vidual events ('which amazed me really').  As always, the terms used in the
model are simply labels, and may sometimes less than adequately describe
the  component  referred  to;  Swan,  for  example,  suggests  that  validatiott
might be a better label than eualuation (personal communication).
All this would suggest  that expecting  a learner  to  tell a decent story in L2
is a tall order, and indeed it is;  not everyone  is an accomplished storyteller
in  their  first language.  Jokes  are particularly difficult  to  tell  in  an  L2.
However, some things can be observed and taught and practised in relation
to storytelling, and listening activities based on storytelling  are a good way
of  raising awareness  of narrative skills. Real data, as always, supplies  a rich
selection  of  realisations  for  the  narrative  elements,  and  markers  of  the
elements will not necessarily translate from one language  to another. Some
common openers to spoken stories and jokes  in English include: 5.7  Stories, anecdotes, jokes
I'll  always remember the time . .  .
Did  I  ever tell you  about .  .  .
Then there was the time we .  .  .
I  must tell you  about. .  .
Have you heard  the one about. .  .
You'll never guess what happened yesterday  .
I  heard a good  one the other day . . .
I  had a funny  experience last week .  .  .
There are also regularly occurring markers for complicating events:
And  then, suddenlylout of the blue .  .  .
Next  thing we knew  .  . .
And  as if  that wasn't enough .  . .
Then guess what happened. .  .
Common codas include 'makes you wonder',  'so, there we are',  'and  that
was it, really',  'looking back  it was all very  .  . .  ',  'and  that was as true as
I'm  standing here9.  Such useful  language is never given in dictionaries, and
is often absent from coursebooks too, though it is every bit as important as
the written-text counterparts such as 'once upon a time',  which tend to get
more of an airing in teaching.
Two other  things  are notable when  we  look  at real  data. One  is  that
stories are often told c~ll~borativel~,  by more than one person;  the details
are jointly recalled  and  an agreed  version  arrived  at through  alternating
contributions (see Edwards and Middleton 1986).  The  other is that  listeners
are active, constantly reacting (usually with back-channel responses) to the
narrative and asking questions that fill out unspecified  detail. The follow-
ing data sample illustrates this. A and B are  telling a series of stories about
driving incidents to C.
(5.17)  A:  I remember that journey, we went from Yarmouth, when we had
the car
C:  1  Yeah.
A:  and we went into Norwich,  and there's  a
ring road round Norwich, and this road  to Fareham was off  this
ring road  .  .  .  well, we turned right
if you remember
B:  1  Oh I can't  remember
A:  land we went right
round this ring road,  I bet we did twenty miles, and when we
came back  it was the next one on the left to where we'd  started.
C: God (laughs).
A:  I remember that, I thought we were never going to find it.
C: You went right round  the city.
A:  Yes.
C:  Good God,  that must have been frustrating. 5  Spoken language
A:  It was expensive as well  (laughs)  .  .  .
B:  But the time I turned into the police station.
A:  Oh .  .  .  dear.
C:  Yeah, what was that?
B:  Dorset Constabulary  Headquarters.
A:  [ He says you, you
B:  We were going to Lyme Regis.
A:  He gave us the map.
B:  On this tree there was this wooden thing,  it had on 'Lyme Regis'
and there were these big massive gates, big iron gates
A:  No,  it was Iris and I, we said you turn left here, and he turned
immediate left,  instead of going on to  the next road, and it said
'Five miles an hour'  and we were creeping along, and there were
bobbies looking at us, two of them in a car.
C:  (laughs) Well, well, great, yeah.
(Author's data 1989)
A and B work out a joint  version of events, and C makes positive contri-
butions, evaluating the stories, and,  in  the  first of  the two, summarising
what happened.  In  conversational data,  this  sort of  joint  enterprise with
active listeners is very common; stories are not just. monologues told  to a
hushed  audience. Another point  we  have  already mentioned  briefly  is
illustrated here: one story sparks off another along similar  lines, and in such
informal situations, each participant who has a story to tell may demand
the floor and tell it.
What difficulties  do  learners have when telling or  listening  to  stories? For
lower-level  learners,  the  usual problems  of  moment-by-moment  lexico-
grammatical encoding at clause level tend to interfere with  the discourse-
level  skills, so that we get  the bare  facts of  stories with little evaluation,
either from  teller  or  listener.  In  extract  (5.18), a  student  (A) has  had  a
.  real-life  accident while on a  language-school day-trip. The accident was
'seen as an authentic opportunity to  get the student to  tell his story  to others;
a second student (B) was instructed to find out the full srory from A:
(5.18)  B:  Hello, Manolo,  how are you?
A:  Em,  I'm  better, I'm  better from my  . . .  felt in the Lakes.
B:  Why. .  .  why  .  .  .  what did you happen?
A:  Em, we went to  the Lakes  for a walk with our teacher of English
here and crm, we erm, dirnb . . .  climbed  .  .  .  they say climbed,
erm, and, erm, when we came back  from the mountain I feel .  .  .
felt and broke .  .  .  a little broke of my elbow .  . .  then I went to
the hospital in the night but it take two hours and I must suspect
. . .  expect.  . .  em,  for the next day . .  .  in the morning, and
(points  to his sling) I have this slip, I think it's  a slip, but I don't
remember, as well.
B:  The arm, do you  .  .  .  is still hurt . .  .  still, still hurt?
A:  No,  no .  .  .  not so much  .  .  .  no it's  hurting.  . .  it's  not hurting .  .  . 5.7  Stories, anecdotes,  jokes
is, I  think it is good because I have my  arm very quiet, and it's
good, I don't.  .  .  I sleep well, erm, so well, so, so, and  .  .  .  I can
sleep and be
B:  Can you have a shower?
A:  Yes,  yes, every day .  .  .  (etc.)
(ICC  data  1988-90)
There is no back-channel  from the listener, and she does not react in any
way to the events. She does ask for more details (as  she has been  instructed
to), and so is active in a small way, but we sense that, if  she were speaking
her L1, we might get the equivalent of  'Oh  dear, I'm  sorry to hear that',  or
'That was awful', and so on, as well as constant back-channel responses. At
this level, there is probably  little that can be done to help the teller, other
than  to point out ways  in which he could have made his story more of  a
story (perhaps asking him to reproduce, in his own time, a written version
of  the events which could then be embellished for later oral retelling).
Teachers who want to train learners in narrative skills would do well to
think of listeners as well as tellers, and activity design should take a positive
role for the listener  into account. Activities involving joint telling are also
possible, although published language-teaching materials tend to prefer the
single teller.  But  data  is  obtainable  for those with  access  to  English-
language  broadcasting:  radio  and  television  chat  shows  frequently have
guests  recounting narratives with  an  active listener  in the  form  of  the
chat-show host,  and  one  recent  Australian  and  British TV success,  the
programme Blind Date, has a segment each week where a previous week's
guests  jointly  recount  a  honeymoon-style  trip  they have  taken  in  the
intervening period at  the programme's expense. Soap operas regularly have
people recounting narratives  with  reaction  and  evaluation  from  other
characters. All these make more authentic contexts than the single narrator
telling a tale to a wall of  silence.
Reader  activity  6  d
Consider this data extract  from  the point  of  view of  how the listener  (B)
behaves.  In what way is this particular  listener an active one? A has been
telling stories about his neighbour:
A:  And on Sunday, we were going for a walk and they were  in
B:  [ Mm.
the distance walking and they stopped and waited  for us to
catch up and introduced us  to their daughter.
8:  L Oh  lovely. A:  And he's  quite a comic  the fellow  you know.
B:  [ Is he  [ ye*.
A:  And their daughter's in Australia, and they've mver been to
Australia to see her
B:  1  Oh, havm't they?
A:  1  cog ihey've got a
dog-
B:  Oh, I  see.
A:  They're tied with tht  dog, she's  a  very highly strung  dog,
and they don't  feel they can  leave her in kennels.
3:  leave her with anybody, no.
(Author's data 1989)
In this last reader activity, we note that B predicts what A is going to say.
Active  listeners, like active readers (see  Chapter  6, page 169), are  constantly
predicting what the message will be,  based on the evidence of  their world
knowledge and the type of discourse they are engaged in. Listening activi-
ties can test and encourage  the development  of predictive skills,  just as good
reading activities often do.
5.8  Other -611  dlscoume  types
We  have  briefly mentioned  how  discourse  analysts have  studied people
describing their apartments (section 2.2). Apartment descriptions tend  to
follow a set patten where the speaker takes the listener on,a  'guided  tour'
of  the rooms  starting  from the  entrance.  This  real-world, behavioural
pattern is  reflected  in  regularly occurring language functions (such as we
saw with this and that references in section 2.2) which can be systematically
taught and practised. The same goes for common discourse types such as
giving  route  directions, a favourite  activity  in  the  language classroom.
Telling someone how to get to one's  house, or where to locate  things on a
map are often the basis of information-gap exercises, and these can be very
successful in generating  talk. However, as we have argued throughout this
book,  it  is  also  worth taking  a look  at what  discourse analysts  have
observed about  the organisation of  talk in a setting  such as  direction giving.
Psathas and Kozloff  (1976)  found a  typical  three-phase structure in  their
data, consisting of  situation,  infomation and  inrtruction and an ending
phase. In the situation  phase, the person giving directions must establish (1)
the stamng point,  (2)  the goal and (3)  the means of transport of  the person
dired,  if  these are not already known or  obvious. The  information phase
is where  the main route directions are given and the ending phase funens 5.9  Speech and grammar
to confirm that the route has been understood and closes  the interaction. It
is  then  possible  to  specify  typical linguistic  realisations  of  these phases,
some of which will be formulaic, such as and there you are, got that?, you
can't  miss  it for  the ending phase,  and others which will  be  the  familiar
boundary markers we have seen dividing transactions elsewhere ('okay, so
you're  at the Market Place  .  .  .  right  .  .  .  well  .  . .  if you can see the clock
tower,  .  .  .  ').  Once again,  the most satisfactory classroom  activities will
attempt to emulate these discourse conditions and will encourage an active
role for the listener, who will typically require more detail, will check that
helshe  has understood  the directions  correctly  and will  give appropriate
back-channel responses. Activities where these features are clearly part of
the  instructions  to  participants  will  probably generate discourse more
closely resembling the elements and sequences that discourse~analysts  have
observed in their data.
5.9  Speech and grammar
Brief  mention must  be made here of  the  role of grammatical  accuracy in
unprepared  speech. Language teachers  tend  to work with a  set of  norms
based  on  the written  language,  where  clause  and  sentence  structure  are
clearly defined. Spoken  data,  however,  present a  different picture,  and
frequently  contain  forms  that  would  be  considered  ungrammatical  in
writing. Such 'mistakes' usually go quite unnoticed in natural talk, and it is
only when we  look  at transcripts  that we  realise how common  they are.
One  example is the wh-  clause structure with embedded reported clauses, as
in  these two attested native-speaker utterances:
(5.19)  A:  And there's a thermostat at the back which I  don't  know how it
works.
(5.20)  A:  There's another secretary too who I don't know what she's
responsible for.
Native speakers of English are also fond of saying things such as 'the  thing
is  is that I  don't  know her number',  'the problem  is  is  .  .  .  ', and we have
seen in our data examples how often utterances are grammatically 'incom-
plete'  by written standards, such as 'But  that time I  turned  into the police
station'  in  extract  (5.17).  Speech abounds in  verbless clauses, ellipses that
would be frowned upon  in 'good'  writing (e.g.  omitted pronoun subjects),
lack of concord and omitted relative particles ('there's  a few problems are
likely to crop up'), false starts, slips of the tongue and changes of direction
midstream in a grammatical structure ('if  you like we could there's food in
the  fridge why  don't  we  could have something  if  you're hungry').  E.  K.
Brown  (1980)  has further examples of  such ungrammaticalities in speech.
Language teachers wishing to encourage natural talk may have to adjust 5  Spoken language
their  standards when  it  comes  to correcting learners.  For  example, the
native-speaker  wb- clause structures exemplified in  (5.19)  and  (5.20) are
usually quickly corrected when similar structures appear in the writing of
Arab  learners of English, and omitted pronoun subjects of  verbs are also
corrected. In fact, we do not know enough about the acceptable norms of
grammar  in speech, since, up  to now, our grammar  books have been largely
formulated  from  introspective  and  written  data.  A  good grammar  of
Spoken English, based on natural data, might well contain a few surprises.
Analyse the grammar of  these two learners acting out a speaking activity
from Collie and Slater  (1991). As a teacher, which  features do you  think
need correcting, and which are the sorts of  features we might  let pass as
typical of  the kinds of  things found even  in native-speaker conversational
data?
(The  students are exchanging information about skills they once had
but have lost for one reason or another over the years.)
A:  Any particular musicians than  more than another.
B:  And you play piano with the (mimes).
A:  With the papers?
B:  Or as sound?
A:  No,  I was not able play by sound, I was,  in fact, I had a piano for
this but it was more too much  technical, too much exercises that
was very very hard.
B:  But guitar is more more easy.
A:  Yes,  it was more easy for a short time, then I left it.
B:  Prove again with the piano?
A:  Yes.
(Author's data 1989)
Spoken discourse types  can be dysed  for their typical patterns and the
linguistic  realisations  that  accompany them  (e.g.  service  encounters,
business  negotiations, telephone  calls,  chat-show  interviews, lectures,
trouble-sharing  encounters, etc.), and the periodical literature of discourse
analysis abounds  in detailed studies of  a vast range of  types. These  studies
are most often not carried out with any overt pedagogical aim, but are very
useful  for  language  teachers  and  material  writers who  want  to  create 5.1  0  Conclusion
systematic speaking skills programmes and whose goal is to design activi-
ties  that will generate output as close as possible to naturally occurring talk.
Complete naturalness  is  probably impossible in  the  classroom, but the
feeling  that one  is engaging  in  an authentic activity is  important  to  the
learner,  as is  the  feeling that one is being taught authentic and  naturally
occurring structures and vocabulary to use in simulations of  real-life talk.
Discourse analysis can supply data where intuition cannot be expected to
encompass  the rich detail and patterning of natural talk.
This chapter has looked at spoken discourse, from small units to longer
stretches, and has tried to relate studies of naturally occurring speech to the
goals and methods of  language teachers in  the classroom. It has brought
evidence from data to bear on some of  the typical activities that language
learners are asked to engage in, and has compared data from both learners
and native speakers, using the latter to evaluate the former and to suggest
directions for the design of  classroom activities. It  remains now for us to
consider the world of written text, and what discourse  analysis can teach us.
Further reading
On conversation in general, several works are worth consulting: Schenkein (1978),
Psathas (1979),  Craig and Tracy (1983),  Taylor and Cameron (1987)  and McGre-
gor (1984).
On the elaboration of  adjacency pairs, Gibbs and Mueller  (1988)  is interesting.
On the general question  of  indirectness and politeness,  see Brown  and Levinson
(1978)  and Blum-Kulka (1987),  and especially in the cross-linguistic context see
Odlin  (1989: Ch. 4).
Edmondson et al. (1984)  and Olesky (1989)  contain interesting comparative data on
the  expression  of  certain discourse  functions  (e-g. opening, requesting,  giving
compliments) in German and English and Polish and English.
Eisenstein and Bodman (1986)  look at how native and non-native speakers express
thanks.
Back-channel in Japanese conversation  is dealt with by Locastro (1987).
Formulaic utterances in  general  in conversation  are illustrated  in  Coulmas  (1979
and 1981).
Melrose (1989) is worth consulting on interpreting functions  in exchanges and on
situations and roles.
Jokes, stories and anecdotes have  been  studied  in  the ethnomethodological tradi-
tion,  including Sacks (1974),  Jefferson (1978),  Polanyi (1982  and 1985).
For everyday discussion and argument, see Schiffrin  (198Sb),  and for the analysis of
more unordered conversation, see Parker (1984).
Crystal (1981) is good on grammatical and lexical features of natural conversation.
For further work on topic in conversation, see Maynard  (1980),  Stech (1982), Crow
(1983)  and Gardner (1987).
How teachers establish topics in the classroom is discussed in Heyman  (1986).
Topic markers and discourse marking in general are dealt with in depth in Schiffrin
(1987). Donaldson  (1979)  discusses  the  transactidna~interactid  divide,  as  well  as
reciprocity.
The seminal pap  on turn-taking  is Sacks et al. (1974).
Also  from  that  time  Starkey  (1973)  and Duncan  and  Niedctebe  (1974) are  of
interest, but recent rethinking and rriticism-af  turn-taking models has  come from
Houtkoop and Mazeland (1985) and Power and Dal Maneilo (1986).
How turns  operate where visual cues are  absent  is dealt with in Butterworth, Hine
and Brady  (1977) and Beanie (1981).
On telephone calls, see  Schegloff (1986).
Toolan  (1988)  provides  a  good  introduction to narrative,  while  Hinds  (1984)
considers  Japanese oral narrative.
More on the language of route directions can be found  in Piathas (1986).
Bygate  (1987) gives good  evaluations of  published materials for spoken English,
while Gardner (1984) discusses  the general implications  of conversation analysis
for language teaching.
Interesting recent works on  listening are Richards (1983), C. Brown  (1986),  and
Anderson and Lynch  (1988). 6  Written language
'I haven't opened  it yet,' said the
White Rabbit; 'but it seems  to be
a  letter, written by the prisoner
to somebody.'
'It must have been that,' said
the King, 'unless it was written
to nobody, which isn't usual, you
know.'
Lewis Carroll:  Alice's  Adventures
in Wonderland
6.1  Introduction
Much  of  what needs  to be  said concerning written language has already
been  said  in  previous chapters.  Chapter  1  touched on the  notions  of
coherence,  clause relations and  textual  patterns  in  written  language;
Chapter  2  explored cohesion, theme  and  rheme  and  tense  and  aspect,
taking many of  its examples from written  texts;  and Chapter 3 examined
lexical cohesion and text-organising vocabulary, again exemplifying with a
number of written text extracts. Even Chapter 5, although it was concerned
with spoken language, made points that are relevant to written discourse:
the active  listener and the  active reader  are engaged  in  very  similar pro-
cesses. Also  transferable from the rest of  this book are two general prin-
ciples: that not everything described by discourse analysts is relevant to or
may  have any immediate applications in language teaching, and,  on  the
other hand, that the more we can learn from discourse analysts as to how
different texts are organised and how the process of creating written text is
realised at various levels, from small units to  large, the more  likely we are  to
be able to create authentic materials and activities for the classroom.
6.2  Text types
Unlike our knowledge of  speech, our knowledge of written text has been
147 6  Written  language
greatly assisted by  the existence of  huge computerised corpora of written
material  such as  the  twenty-million word Birmingham Collection  of English
Text (the basis of  the Collins COBUILD dictionary project), and corpus-
building over the years has  led  to  an  interest in  detailed taxonomies of
textual types. However, we still lack hard evidence of just how written text
impinges on the day-to-day life of most people. We can obtain statistics  for
library-borrowing, or for newspaper sales, and get some idea of what most
people read  of  these 'mainstream'  text  types,  but  a whole hidden world
exists  too,  of  memos,  forms, notices,  telexes,  tickets, letters, hoardings,
labels,  junk mail, etc.,  and it  is very difficult  to guess  just what people's daily
reading and writing is. Once again, the language teacher is left with a typo-
logy based  on intuition, or perhaps more often than not, with an imposed
syllabus of mainstream texts, as the raw material of  teaching.
Look at this list of  everyday written texts and decide how often you read
and write such texts, on an OftenlSometimeslRarelyINever  scale. Tick the
appropriate  box and, if possible, compare your results with another person.
Red  Write
Instruction leaflet
Letter tolfrom friend
Public notice
Product label
Newspaper obituary
Poem
News report
Academic article
Small ads
Postcard tolfrom  friend
Business letter
It is certain that most people will read more of  the text types listed in the
reader activity than actually write them. Nonetheless, apart from specialist
learners, who tend  to have precise  reading and writing needs,  it  is  still
difficult  to gauge precisely what  types of  written  text are most  useful  in
language teaching  and  to  find  the  right  balance  between  reading  and 6.3  Speech and writing
writing in most general language courses. For writing purposes,  letters of
various kinds will  always  be  a  useful  type  to  exploit,  but,  in  addition,
syllabuses  and  examinations often  demand  essays  or  compositions,
whether narrative, descriptive  or argumentative, and it  is here that teachers
find the greatest challenges in devising interesting and authentic activities.
We shall therefore consider how  learners can be assisted  in  such writing
skills by the insights discourse analysis has provided into text types and the
relationships between texts and their contexts.
6.3  Speech and writing
Both  spoken  and  written  discourses  are  dependent  on  their  immediate
contexts to a greater or lesser degree. The idea that writing is in some way
'freestanding',  whereas speech is more closely tied to its context, has come
under attack  as an oversimplification by  discourse analysts (e.g. Tannen
1982).  The transcript of  a piece of  natural conversation may well contain
references impossible to decode without particular  knowledge or without
visual information. Similarly, spoken 'language in action', where language
is  used  to  accompany actions  being  performed  by  the  speakers,  is  also
typically  heavily  context-dependent  and  may  show  a  high  frequency of
occurrence of deictic words such as this one, over there, near you and bring
that here, which can only be decoded in relation to where the speakers are
at the  time of  speaking. On  the other hand, a broadcast lecture on radio
may be quite 'freestanding'  in that everything  is explicit, self-contained and
highly structured, which may also be true of an oral anecdote,  joke or other
kind of narrative.
This same variation in context-dependability  is found in written texts. A
sign saying 'NO BICYCLES' is highly context-dependent: it may mean 'it is
forbidden  to  ridelpark  a  bicycle  here'  or perhaps  'all  available bicycles
already hiredlsold', depending on where the notice is located. And while it
is true that written texts such as essays, reports, instructions and letters do
tend  to  be  more  freestanding and  to  contain  fewer  deictic expressions,
written texts may still encode a high degree of  shared knowledge between
reader and writer and be just  as opaque as conversational transcripts, as in
this extract from a personal letter.
(6.1)  Dear Simon,
Thanks for your letter and the papers. I  too was sorry we didn't get
the chance to continue our conversation on the train. My journey
wasn't so bad, and I got back about nine.
(Author's data 1989)
We have here  references to another text  shared by  the writer and  reader
('your letter',  'I  too was sorry'), an exophoric reference to  'the train'  (see section 2.2),  and  the deictic back,  all of which depend on mutual know-
ledge  to be fully understood. As eavesdroppers on  the text, we  can only
make  intelligent guesses  (on mutual knowledge in  diwourse,  see  Gibbs
1987).  But even  transparent, highly explicit texts are written by someone for
someone and for something, and their form is determined by these factors.
Implicimess and explicimess will depend on what  is being communicated
to whom, rather than merely on whether the discourse is written or  spoken.
Classroom activities which  bring out the differences between context-
dependent and relatively freestanding discourses an  be devised based on a
combination of  speaking tasks and writing tasks.
In an example of  the task-based approach (see also extracts (5.10-12)),  a
group of German advanced learners of English were instructed to decide on
the dispositions of  furniture and equipment in a  room for a  school open
day. The first phase of  the task was a discussion in the room itself of  how
best to arrange the furniture; in the second phase, the group had to write a
note  to  the  school caretaker explaining their  requirements.  Thus  it was
predicted that the spoken phase would be highly context-dependent and the
written  text detached from its immediate context in  time and space. The
transcript of  the discussion in the first phase contained a number of deictic
words  and phrases such as  'this  corner',  'a  little bit  to  the  side',  'there,
where  the  door  is',  etc,  The discussion  also  contained  the  turn-taking,
exchanges and  transaction management  that  we  examined  in  detail  in
Chapter 5, as well as reflections on the real-time and planning constraints
of  speech  in progress ('wait a minute',  'now,  what's  next?').  In short, all
sorts of elements occurred that would-be  out of place in the next (written)
phase of  the task.
The written phase (the  letter to  the caretaker) then involved the learners
in a number of different discoursal problems typical of  (though not unique
to) writing:  an  absent  addressee, detachment from the relevant physical
environment as a shared context for sender and receiver and the resultant
need to be explicit, and the choice of how to 'stage'  the text (friendly note?
bare list of  requirements?).  In  fact,  the two different groups who did  the
activity produced quite different written output, and the feedback session
afterwards with the Ntor led to a very interesting  discussion on the cultural
differences  in sending  a  letter  to  a school  caretaker  in Britain and  in Germany.
This is the text  one group produced:
(6.2)  Group A:
Dear John,
Would you be kind enough to get room no. 4 ready for open day and
as games room.
You will need:
2 square and one rectangular  table
1  coffee table
14 chairs 6.3  Speech and writing
5 easy chairs
2 screens
1  dart board
1 monopoly,  1  chess board,  1  set of bridge cards and 1  roulette
Some puzzle and word games and magazines (see  librarian)
1.  Set up the dart board on the left, on the wall next to door.
2.  Arrange 5 easy chairs and 1  coffee table in the left comer near the
window.
3.  Separate the darts comer and the quiet comer with a screen.
4.  Please put a screen on the edge of left window in order to shield off
the quiet corner.
5.  Have a cup of tea  to relax. Thanks a lot for your help!
(ICC data 1988-90)
Reader activity  2  F@
Here is the written  text produced  by  the other group doing the activity. In
what ways does it differ from the first group's,  and how do the two texts
reflect perceptions as to how one writes to a school caretaker?
Group B:
Instructions
1.  Put a dart board between the window and the loudspeaker.
2.  Parallel to the windows, install a screen to separate the room at
distance of  the loudspeaker.
3.  Put two square tables with four chairs each in  front of the screen.
4.  Put two coffee  tables with two chairs each on the right hand side of
the door, between the door and the curtain.
5.  In the middle of  the room, place another square table with four
chairs.
(ICC  data 1988-90)
Similar problems arise with writing activities of  this kind  to those which
arise with  spoken  activities:  the  learners  may  misunderstand  the  task
instructions and assume that  the caretaker  is expecting  a note about  the
open day, and therefore not include anything but a list of  requirements  (as
group B's  effort seems to do), or else, as mentioned, there may  be unseen
differences of  cultural  perception affecting modes  of  address. What was
clear was that the participants did not write in a vacuum and had  formed
quite  clear pictures  of  whom they  should  write  to  and what  sort  of
relationship  they had with this person. Thus  the activity not only brings out
linguistic differences connected with such things  as  deixis  and  lexical 6  Written language
specificity, but also specific problems that are ever present in writing: who
the reader  is, what  the writer's  relationship with  the reader  is, what the
purpose of  the  text  is,  and what textual  form  is  appropriate, given  that
answers to these questions are built into the activity or can reasonably be
expected to be shared knowledge. This set of questions encodes in another
form of words the  field,  tenor and mode constraints  of Halliday's model of
language in its social context (see Halliday 1978).
Letters are a good example of  a  discourse  type where  the  receiver  is
usually a specified individual or group, unlike the classroom or homework
essay, which is often written for an unknown audience, but with the overlay
of  knowing  that  the teacherlexarniner will  be  the pseudo-reader. Letter-
writing activities can  therefore raise all  the important  questions of  the
relationship between discourse  structure  and contextual  factors, as we have
seen. There also appear to be cross-cultural problems concerning letters,
especially  business  letters.  Jenkins and  Hinds  (1987)  found  significant
differences in orientation between American, French and Japanese business
letters; the American letters  in their data were generally more informal and
reader-oriented, with the writer strongly projecting the reader's needs and
assumed purposes. The French data were writer-oriented, with  the writer
intent upon protecting hidher position and  remaining more formal. The
Japanese texts oriented towards the mid-ground, the relationship between
writer and reader.
So writing is not fundamentally different from speech. While it  is  true
that the writer usually has time to compose and think, and is not going to
be interrupted by the reader bidding for a turn or saying 'SorQ,  can't  stop
now, must rush!',  all the other important factors constraining what is said-
and how it is said are present in writing as much as in speech.
6.4  Units in written discourse
In all our discussions on speaking, the sentence was dismissed as being of
dubious value as a unit of discourse  (especially  in Chapter 4). The sentence
is more obvious as a grammatical unit in writing, although certainly not in
all  kinds of  writing: signs  and notices,  small ads, notes,  forms,  tickets,
cheques,  all contain frequent examples of 'non-sentences'  (lists of  single
words, verbless clauses, etc.). The internal construction of  the sentence has
always been  the province of  grammar, but in Chapter 2, we argued that a
number of  things  in clause and sentence grammar have implications  for the
discourse as a whole, in particular, word order, cohesion, and tense and
aspect. For the purposes of our discussion of  these discoursal features, the
sentence will  have  no  special  status other than  as a grammatical  and
orthographic unit which can be  exploited where desired for pedagogical
illustration, just  as the clause can. 6.4  Units in written discourse
It  is possible  to devise interactive activities which involve decisions on
word order, cohesion and sequences of  tenses in discourse. The following
text-jigsaw  has  been  used  successfully  with  groups  at  widely  different
levels  to  focus  on  bottom-up choices  of  these kinds.  A  text  is  read  in
class, and any other desired activities carried out on it. When its content
is  familiar, it  is  then  presented  in  jigsaw  format,  divided  up  into  its
individual  sentences  (or  indeed  groups  of  sentences  or  paragraphs;  the
decision  is purely a practical  one). What  this means  is that one group or
individual gets  the  text with sentences  (or paragraphs)  1, 3, 5, 7,  9, etc.
and has to recreate sentences 2,4, 6, 8, etc. in their own words from their
familiarity with  the content. The other group or individual gets sentences
2,  4, 6,  8, etc.  and has  to recreate the odd-numbered ones. When  all  the
new  sentences are ready,  the sentences originally provided  are discarded,
the  two  sets of  created  sentences are put  together  to  see  if  they  make a
coherent  and  cohesive  text,  and  the  pair  or  group  together make  any
changes needed  until  they  are  satisfied  with the  finished  product.  The
activity  produces  interesting results,  as with this  group  of  advanced
learners of English:
(6.3)  The original  text that was read and then  jigsawed was about traffic
problems in cities (see extract (3.10)).  The resultant  text when  the
two sets of created sentences were dovetailed was:
1.  At present,  15% of Englands surface area is covered by some kind of
man made material, most of which comes in the shape of  long stripes
of concrete bond.
2.  And yet the government suggests building even more roads in order
to cope with  the problem of  too many vehicles in our country; this
can hardly be the answer.
3.  While I don't  in the least doubt the sincerity of  these studies, my own
observations lead me to challenge the very principles with which they
have been  carried out.
4.  Day by day I watch  the traffic jam  on my way to work moving even
more slowly than my walking speed.
5.  If  I was to take this as indicative of a problem with the existing road
network, the following could be said.
6.  There are four possible ways in which this dilemma might be dealt
with: one is to build more roads and thereby destroy our
environment,  two is to tax cars and petrol heavily,  three is to give
out licences for those who really need a car, four is to take into
consideration  the use of motorbikes instead of cars.
7.  Conceivably, the first  three solutions have been discussed in
pvernment circles, but they remain within the simplistic carlroad
mile computation which don't  do the problem any justice. They leave
out of  sight the proper use of  each vehicle. This  takes me to the
fourth solution, which is in fact the ideal one.
(Author's data 1989) 6  Written  language
This activity  led  to a discussion among the participants. Everyone agreed
that  'these studies' (sentence  3)  rendered  the  text incoherent, and alternative
superordinates such  as  'these  policies',  'these  views',  'these  ideas' were
offered  to make  the text  lexically cohesive  (see  section 3.2).  Some in  the
group were not happy with  conceivably  (sentence 7) and with its front-
placing, since (sentence  3)  had  mentioned  road  expansion  as an  idea
already put into practice. Alternatives such as 'The first  three solutions may
well have been discussed', and 'The  first  three solutions have probably  .  .  .'
were proposed. There were also macro-level discussions  on  features such as
the use of first person and what some  felt was a clash of register between the
'sarcasm'  of  sentence 1  and the neutral  tone of  the rest of  the text, but, in
the main,  the group members were concerned with intersentential links
affecting cohesion and word order.
The success of  the jigsaw  activity was undoubtedly due to the fact that
the participants were  defending their  own  text, created  by  themselves,
rather  than  taking a model  text  to pieces. The decision-making processes
were brought to the surface and individuals had to  explain and defend their
choices, a process more motivating for learners than having to explain the
choices of  an  invisible,  unknown  author.  There has been  a  tendency  in
teaching materials to see knowledge of cohesion as something to be tested
in relation to textual products, but process approaches can also tackle this
area,  by  getting learners to evaluate their own texts  as they  are creating
them (see  Johns 1986  for further discussion of  peer evaluations).
Reader activity  3  d
Look  at  these  pieces  of  learner  data  purely  from  the  point  of  view  of
intersentential connexions, that is,  ignoring errors which could be said to
be principally sentence-internal. Look  for problems of  cohesion in terms of
such  things  as  reference  and  conjunction  and decide what  effect  such
features have on overall comprehensibility and rezdability.
1.  (From an essay on town planning by an Italian town planner doing
an English course.)
Unfortunately, not always the growth of cities go on with an
artention research. It's  the cause of  inany problems that people have
in living in big cities, and also the destruction of  the environment.
2.  (From an essay on differences between Italian and British and
American teenagers, by an Italian learner.)
The British, Italian and American teenagers are like, but I think that
for the Italian teenagers using to play football more than British and
American teenagers.
So as for the American teenagers using  to play rugby more than
Italian and British teenagers. For use, British teenagers Like  to look 6.5  Clause relations
videos and  listen music. In  fact Britain  is the country of  the best
musicians of  the world.
3.  (From a summary of  a text on training astronauts; Italian learner.)
The passage speaks about the astronaut's life. There are a lot of
problems when one lives in space, and the most important is absence
of gravity. It  is necessary a long period of training to learn the basic
operations which allow the life and the work within the Shuttle.
They are trained in simple jobs  like as cooking or daily routines and
in different operations as emergency procedures, satellite repairs and
SO on.
(Author's data 1989)
6.5  Clause relations
In section  1.9 we  looked  at the clause-relational approach to written text,
where it was stressed that the units of written discourse, rather than always
being co-extensive with  sentences  (though they  sometimes are), were  best
seen as functional segments (of anything from phrasal to paragraph length)
which could be related  to one another by a finite set of cognitive relations,
such  as cause-consequence,  instrument-achievement,  temporal  sequence,
and  matching  relations such  as contrasting  and  equivalence.  Individual
segments of  texts combined  to form the logical structure of  the whole and
to  form  certain characteristic  patterns  (such  as  problem-solution).  The
sequencing of segments and how the relations  between  them are signalled
were viewed  as factors in textual coherence  (see Winter  1977; Hoey 1983).
In  fact,  the. problems  which  could be  subsumed  under the notion  of
cohesion by conjunction in the last reader activity can also be viewed from
a  clause-relational  standpoint,  in  that  inappropriate use  of  coniunctions
creates difficulties  for  the  reader  in  relating  segments  of  the text  to  one
another  coherently.  But  we  also  noted  in  Chapters  2  and  3  that  the
borderline  between  how  conjunctions  signal clause  relations  and how
certain  lexical  items do the same is somewhat blurred,  and  that conjunc-
tions such as and, so and because have their lexical equivalents in nouns,
verbs  and  adjectives such  as  additional,  cause  (as noun  or  verb),  con-
sequent(ce),  instrumental, reason, and so on. Therefore, as well as activities
that focus on conjunction and other local cohesive choices, activities aimed
at the  lexicon of clause-relational signals may also be useful. Segment-chain
activities can be used for this purpose. An opening segment (which could be
a sentence or more) and a closing segment of a text are given to a group of
four or  five  students,  and each individual  is given  the start of  a segment
containing a different lexical clause signal.  Individuals complete their own segment with as much text as they feel necessary,  and then compare their
segment with everyone else's  in  order  to  assemble  the  segments  into  a
coherent  text.  This  involves not  only being satisfied with  the  individual
segments but deciding on an appropriate sequence for the chain of  clause
relations that will lead logically to the given closing segment, and making
any changes felt necessary to improve coherence. In the following example,
groups  of  advanced German learners were  given  an  opening  sentence:
'Young people nowadays are exposed to a lot of violence on television, in
films, and so on',  and the conclusion: 'This would suggest  that some sort of
control or censorship may be necessary  to solve the problem.'  Individual
segment-cards had starters such as:
The result is .  .  .
The reason is . .  .
The fact is that .  .  .
This contrasts with  .  .  .
Typical of the texts produced by  the groups was:
(6.4)  Young people nowadays are exposed to a lot of violence on
television, in films, and so on. The result is that floods of blood
suffocate the TV news and films all over Europe. This contrasts with
countries where there  is a strict control of TV and films. The reason
is an uprooted, deculturalized  young generation which has ceased to
stick to the strigent values of their elders. The fact is that the
situation has got worse and worse recently. This would suggest that
some sort of control or censorship is necessary.
(Author's data 1989)
This  particular  group were  unhappy with  the  relationship  between  the
sentence beginning 'The reason is .  .  .' and the rest of  the text, as they felt
that since nothing had  been  said about young people's  behauiour,  it was
pointless  to give a  reason  for  it,  and  a  'deculturalized generation' could
hardly be cited as the reason for violence on television. The opinion was
also voiced  that the final text was a  little unnatural with  so many front-
placed phrases such as 'the reason is . .  .',  once again raising new decisions
on  theme and  rheme which  had  to be  taken  in relation  to  the  text  as a
whole. The group  finally decided  to move the words  'the  result is  that'  from
sentence 2 to sentence 4 to replace 'the reason  is',  and then  to reverse the
order of  sentences 3 and 4.
The aim of  the activity was to reproduce some of the processes of choice
that are  involved  in  using  the  lexicon of  clause-relational  signals,  once
again as an alternative to only examining textual products containing such
items.  This does  not  mean  that  cohesive  and  clause-relational features
cannot also be usefully  .tackled on readymade texts; alongside the process
approach  to  writing,  there  is  a  healthy  tradition  of  problem-solving 6.6  Getting to grips with larger patterns
methods  that include exercises  in inserting missing linking and signal words
in texts. These force the learner to make vocabulary choices that take more
than the  individual sentence  into account  (e.g.  Coe,  Rycroft  and Ernest
1983).
Reader activity  4  rrft
Look at  these pieces bf  learner data, in which there seem to be problems of
how  individual  sentences  relate  to one another.  Suggest ways  in which,
either  by  using  conjunctions  or  lelcicai  signals, the relationships  can  be
made more clear.
1.  My field of study concerns architecture. It's  not a field of  study, I
think, it's a huge world going from science to knowledge of
materials,  to  the history  and composition of  cultures,  to knowledge
of psycho!ogical  needs and wishes of men and women in the world.
2.  The problems of modern cities are derived from the Industrial*,
Revolution, and also if  the cities bf my country were not interessed
from this event it's  true that there are relations between every cities.
(Author's data 1989)
6.6  Getting to grips with larger patterns
We  have considered larger  patterns  of  discourse organisation  at various
points  in  this book.  The  problemsolution  pattern  was illustrated  in
Chapter  1,  and  again  in  Chapter  3  in  relation  to  vocabulary  signals.
Chapter 3 also looked at  examples of claim-counterclaim (or  hypothetical-
real) patterns, and Chapters 2 and 5 referred  to narrative patterns.
These are not  the only patterns found in  texts; another common one is
the  'question-answer'  pattern,  which  has some features  in  common with
the problem-solution pattern, but whose primary motivation is the pursuit
of  a satisfactory  answer  to  a  question  explicitly  posed  (usually) at  the
beginning of  the text. For example: B+ 6 Writbra  language
(6.3  London  -
too expensive?
It's no surprise that London b
themostexpenshrecitytostay
In, In  Britain: we've aU heard the
homr  stories.  But just haw
expensive  is  it?  According  to
international  hote~l  consuttantS
Hoawath  & HorwPth's tecent  re-
port.tfPereannaw~~
hotels  charging  over 690  a night
for  a  single room.
But  even  if your hotel  choke  b
a little more modest, you11 Jttll
be  forking out nearly twice as
much for  a night's stay  In Lon-
don  as  elsewhere  in  Britain.
Average  toom rates  last  year
worked out at  around  €1 9  h  the
provinces compared to W5  in
London.  a
(from Moneycare, October 1985, p. 4)
In  this text, a  situation  is  established  which  contains  an  unanswered
question. Answers are then  offered, ahg  with evidence or authoritative
support for  them.  As  with 'possible  responses'  in  the  problemsolution
pattern,  if  the answer(s)  offered do not answer the original question, then
other answers are sought.
Other  typical  textual patterns  include various  permutations  of  the
generalspecific pattern, where macro-structures such as the following are
found:
General stqtement  General stqtement
4  4
Specific  stafement 1  Specific statement
I
.L  .L
Specific statement 2  Even more specific
3.
Specific statement 3
1
Even more specific
etc.  . . .
4  etc.  . . .
5.
I  I
4  4
General statement  C;leneral  statement
Examples  of  these patterns can be found in text8 such as  estate agents' sales
literature in Britain, where a general description of  the property for sale is
followed by  detailed descriptions of individual rooms/features, and then,
finally a return  to a general statement about the whole property again (for
further discussion of different patterns, see Hoey 1983). 6.6  Getting to grips with larger patterns
One point to note about patterns is that they are of  no fixed size in terms
of  number of sentences or paragraphs contained  in  them. Another point  is
that any given  text may  contain more  than one of  the common patterns,
either  following  one  another  or embedded within  one  another.  Thus  a
problem-solution pattern  may  contain  generalspecific  patterns  within
individual segments, or a claim-counterclaim pattern when proposed solu-
tions are being evaluated, both of which features are present in this text:
THOUSANDS of  aaes
of  our  counhyside  are
buried  for  ever  under
ribbons of  concrete  and
tarmac  every year.
Every  few months  a
Government study  or
statement from an auth-
oritative body daims  that
our  motorway  network
is  inadequate  and must
be extended.
Week  by  week  the
amount of  car traffic  on
our  roads grows,  13 per
cent  in  the  last year
alone.
Each day as I walk to
work, I see the  ludicrous
spectacle of  hundreds of
commuters  sitting alone
in  four  or  five-seater
cars  and  barely  moving
as  fast as  I can walk.
Our  haffic  aisis now
presents us  with  the
classic conservation
dilemma  - too  many
people making too much
demand on  inadequate
resources.
There  are  four pas-
sible  solutions:  One,
provide more remmes,
m  this  case W mare
roads  and  car  parks;
two,  restrict  the avail-
ability  of  motorised
transport  by  daab
raising  the  price  of
vehicles and  fuel:  thfee,
license onty those pVlth a
good  reason for needing
rnotorised transport and
prohibit  un-
necessary  use;  four
reduce the,  average  size
of  motor  vehicles,
especially those used for
commuting purposes.
The  ideal  vehicle  for
transporting  one person
to  and  from  his  or  her
place of. work has been in
use  for  as  long as  the
motor  car.  There  is.
room on  our  existing
roads  for  present  and
future  needs  but  not  if
they are  to be  clogged up
with  half-empty  cars
when the  motor cycle
would  serve  the same
purpose more  than ade-
4uate'y..
Inentabty,  objections
winber;lisedtothepm
motion  of  the  motor
cyde  as the saviour  of
our  environment.
It is dangerous:  It can
be  but three-fifths of  all
serious  motor  cycling
accidents  are caused  by
cars. So, by  transferring
some  drivers  from cars
to motor cycles, the  risk
can  immediately  be
reduced.
Department  of  Trans-
port  statistics  have
shown that a car  ever  is
nine  times more kely  to
take  someone  else with
him in an accident  .t+n  a
motor cyclist, so mhg  a
motor  cyde  is  actually
making a  contribution to
road safety.
Our climate is too  cold
and wet:  Have we Brit-
ish really become so  soft
that  we  couldn't  face  a
ride on a chilly morning?
A  good  waterproof  jac-
ket costs a lot less  than  a
new  bypass.
But  I  must  drive  a
BMW  or  Jaguar  or  I11
have  no  cndbiky with
my clients, my boss, my
shareholders: That  is
just  a matter  of  fashion
which most  of  the  busi-
ness  community  follow
as slavishly  as  sheep.
If  the  right person
were to set the  lead and
exchange  his  tin  box
traffic  jammer  for  an
environmentally respon-
sible  set  of  two wheels
the  rest of  the business
sheep  would  be  fatling
over themselves  to  fol-
low suit and  some of our
traffic  problems  would
be solved  at a stroke.
All  that is  needed  is
the  wiUingness to sacri-
fice  a littie bit of comfort,
take  a  little bit of  a  risk
and  dare  to  be a  little
different.
On  the other  hand,
what  is  a  few  thousand
acres  of  countryside
each year and a ten-mile
tailback?
(from Cambridge Weekly News, 22 September, p.  11)
Here we begin with a general statement and then,  in terms of time, a series
of evermore specific ones, culminating in a general statement in paragraph
5  of  the problem  that is to form the central focus of  the text. The next two
paragraphs  then  put  forward  possible solutions.  The author's  preferred
solution, the motorcycle, is then evaluated in the rest of the text in a series
of  claims and counterclaims with  justifications  for  the counterarguments.
Only the last sentence breaks the completeness of the patterns by  raising a
counterargument that the author chooses to leave open, but which  brings
us right back to the statement of the problem in the very first sentence of his
text. So the text is highly patterned,  and its author has embedded patterns
within the overall structure of  the text. 6  Written  language
What patterns can you observe in the following extracts from the opening
lines of  two magazine articles (you have already analysed the second one
for modals in section 3.8)?  What  text pattern would you predict is going  to
be the dominant one in each of the texts as a whole?
1.  Men can mend stereos, drive cars and budget their pay packets
efficiently; women are helpless when faced with anything mechanical
and are extravagant spenders. Chaps, of course, are cool and
rational, while women are swayed by  their emotions and are slaves to
the lunar cycle. Men are polygamous, women monogamous.
RidicuIous stereotypes? Absolutely. So why do quite a lot of men and
rather a large number of women still half believe them?
(Options, October 1985: 201)
2-  Can citrus
peel harm?
Did ym  know that lemon and
OrangeJpeeliSooatedwithwax
and chedcalp?
Theskinofalmostalldtrus
hit  sold in  the UK  is heated
with fungicides to  stop it going
ddy.  And tbe  glossy
dacefs  theresult of bathing
the fruit  in wax.
Could the iungicides used
ondtruspaalbeharmful-
perticularly h  them's soans
evkl~from~torytests
that, in sufficient quantities,
theymay~-cgnoers~
rImwbnsinsnimnln?
Tbe (henmmt domm't  feel
thareisanynwdbwosry
becausetheledsdfm@cide
permitted am  vgt  law. Ths
levelsarebasedanthe
Ma~18  d  UK  and
international advisqbadiss
forthe~m0untttmtcenbe
cansumsd  daily without any
tsigdi~~~lt  e&cL
(from Which?,  January 1984, p.  4) 6.7  Patterns and  the learner
Finding patterns in texts is a matter of  interpretation by the reader, making
use  of  clues  and  signals  provided  by  the author;  it  is not  a  question  of
finding one single right  answer, and  it will often be possible  to analyse a
given  text  in more  than one way.  But  certain  patterns do tend  to occur
frequently  in particular  settings:  the problemsolution pattern  is  frequent
in advertising  texts (one way  to sell  a product is to convince people  they
have a problem they may not be aware of)  and in texts reporting technolo-
gical advances (which  are  often seen  as  solving  problems  or  removing
obstacles). Claim-counterclaim texts  are frequent  in political journalism,
as well  as in  the  letters-to-the-editor pages of  newspapers and magazines
(but  see Ghadessy 1983, for a problemsolution orientation to such letters).
General-specific  patterns  can be  found  in  encyclopaedias and other refer-
ence texts.
6.7  Patterns and the  learner
If  we  look at learners'  attempts to create textual patterns  of  the kinds we
have described above, we  find  that there are sometimes problems.  Just as
we  noted  that  learners whose overall competence was  poor  often  got
trapped  in  the  difficulties  of  local  encoding  at  the  expense  of  larger
discourse management  in spoken discourse,  so  too  can  we  observe such
difficulties affecting learners' written work. If we look again at a text from
which we took an extract earlier, this time reproducing the whole text, we
can see an attempt at a general-specific pattern which  seems to just  end in
midstream, lacking  the  typical  return  to  a  general  statement  after  the
specific  examples that is expected in a well-formed  text. On  the other hand,
one could equally say that the text sets out to create a number of descriptive
contrasts, but gets 'lost'  in  a digression  about Britain's  ascendancy in  the
world of  music:
(6.7)  (general  statement) The British, Italian and American teenagers are
like,  (specific: modification of general  statement) but I  think that for
the Italian teenagers using to play football more than British and
American teenagers.
(specific:  parallel modification) So as for the American teenagers
using to play rugby more than Italian and British teenagers. (new
specific) For use, British teenagers like to look videos and listen
music.  (digression?)  In  fact Britain  is the country of the best
musicians of the world.  (end of  text)
(Author's data 1989)
It  is  extremely  doubtful  whether  the writer  (a highly  educated,  mature
person) would write such an unstructured text in his own native language.
It  is  quite  clear  that  the  stresses  of  creating  the text (and  the  frequent crossings-out in the manuscript support  this) at the level of  local choice of
grammar  and vocabulary has proved  too much,  and all  sense of  overall
planning has been abandoned.
At  lower  levels,  clause-  and  sentence-chaining  activities can take  the
strain off macro-level planning but still produce a learner-generated  text for
scrutiny  in class.  As  with  the  clause-relational chaining activity,  each
learner creates a  textual  segment  relevant n,  a given  topic, but with  the
segment-starters containing  signal words  of  the  (in this  case)  problem-
solution structure. For an all-Italian group of architects and environmental
planners on an  intensive English  course, the  topic sentence was:  'Nowa-
days, more  and  more people  want  to  use  the countryside  for  leisure
purposes.'  The starters were:
But  the problem  is  .  . .
Planners have an important role to play:  .  .  .
One possible  solution to the problem  is  . . .
These were designed  to generate  the problem, a response from planners and
a possible solution. Thus  the next  stage of  the  activity, marshalling  the
individual segments  into a coherent text, is guided by to-p-down  constraints
of  typical problem-solution  sequences.  The discussion on sequencing of
segments and necessary changes to the text was carried on in the learners'
L1 on this occasion. The author of extract (6.7)  was a member of  the group
whose final text is reproduced here:
(6.8)  Nowadays, more and more people want to use the countryside for
leisure purposes. But the problem is that the urbanism take over and
dominates it. Planners have an important role to play:  they have to
ensure the community the right distinction between spaces for
working time and for leisure purposes, and moreover to locate this
last activiaes in the best convenient situation for most of people. One
possible solution to the problem is that people have to know the
advantages  to live far from traffic and noise, because a calm place
where everybody can have a relationship with itself, it is necessary
for our soul.
(Author's &a  1989)
The author of  text (6.7) composed the sentence beginning 'but the problem
is  .  .  .', which  reflects his  luico-grammatical weaknesses compared with
the others in the group, but in terms of  the final text, which was used  for
remedial vocabulary and grammar work, his contribution was as useful as
the rest. 6.7  Patterns and  the learner
Reader activity  6  d
An  advanced group of German learners of English produced  the following
sentences based  on the topic card  (seen by  all members of  the group) and
segment-starters given (in  italics). What, in your opinion, would be the best
order for the  sentences  to make  a satisfactory  text? How many possible
acceptable orders are there? What changes would you  like to make to the
wording of  individual sentences?
Topic:  1.  Football hooliganism is a common phenomenon  in a lot of
European countries.
2.  One possible  solution to reduce the worst effects might be,  first
of all, to stop violent fans from entering the stadium.
3.  . The reason for the fans aggressive behaviour  is their social
background.
4.  The problem  is how  to interfere without cancelling all football
matches and without frustrating the real non-violent fans.
5.  The situation can be described as follows: thousands of people
are injured every weekend and a lot of damage is done to the
stadiums.
(Author's data  1989)
Another interesting aspect of  learners'  success or otherwise in macro-level
communication  in  their  writing  is  how  they  use  the kind  of  discourse-
signalling vocabulary discussed in sections  3.5-6. What  is sometimes observ-
able  in learner data  is  that, although the overall patterning is present, misuse
of signalling words can disorient the reader somewhat. This extract is from
a summary of  a text on the problems of training astronauts to live in space:
(6-9)  As soon as a man of our century realizes we're  going to reach  the
complete control of communicating and travelling  in space, he has to
consider the huge number of difficulties that overcome with the
developing of  space travels.
Science and technique may develop to hinder a lot of problems,
like for example loss of oxygen, intense cold, severe radiation bursts
and so on.
(Author's data 1989)
The first infelicity in discourse-signalling vocabulary occurs with  'difficul-
ties that overcome',  but here it is not entirely clear whether  the problem is
lexical; it may be (interference  from a cognate form in Italian which hides a
false  friend) or it  could  be  syntactic, insomuch  as many  languages use  a
'that'  construction where English would  have an infinitive ('difficulties  to 6  Written language
overcome'), but the vocabulary-choice tends to be dominated by  the quite
plausible syntax  here,  and  most readers  presented  with the text  suffer
disorientation.  The  second  error,  'to  hinder  a  lot  of  problems'  is more
obviously lexical, and underlines the point made  in  Chapter 3 about the
importance of  grouping words together along discourse-functional  lines,
and suggests a role for the teaching of  collocating pairs in the case of  such
words.  A  similar collocational problem  seems  to  have occurred in  the
football  hooliganism text in Reader activity  6:  one  does  not  normally
interfere to solve a problem (interference usually suggests making things
worse); in  English,  one  intewenes  to  solve problems.  Such  local  errors
disorient  the  reader  in  the sense that helshe  is continuously making pre-
dictions about the text as a whole and its likely sequencing and patterning.
6.8  Culture and rhetoric
Our data examples so far show one  thing: European learners of English  in
general  are perfectly  capable  of  transferring discourse  patterns  such  as
problem-solution patterns  from their  L1 to  an  L2  (as witnessed  in  the
chaining activities). Where problems arise, they seem to be relatable to lack
of  linguistic competence at  the  lexico-grammatical level  and  the natural
difficulties of  coping with global planning when one is under great stress
encoding at the  sentence  level. But what of  the writing  of  learners from
cultures quite different from Western ones? Are there established norms of
writing  in other  literate cultures that are different and might  therefore be
expected  to interfere with  the macro-level decision-making of  the learner
writing in English?
The area of cross-cultural rhetoric studies has spawned a vast literature
of its own, and a somewhat confusing one. On the one hand, linguists claim
to have evidence of  textual patterns in other languages not found in English
writing;  on  the other hand, there  is disagreement over whether  these
patterns are transferred and cause interference when  the learner writes in
English.  A  paper  by Kaplan  (1966), in  which he  posited  a  typology for
textual progression with different types associated with different cultures,
was  very  influential,  but  has  since  been  undermined  by  other  studies.
Kaplan suggested  that English text was characteristically linear and hier-
archical,  while Semitic  (Hebrew  and  Arabic) text was characterised  by
parallelism; Oriental text had 'indirection'  as a characteristic, and Russian
and Romance texts had a preference for digressions. Some evidence seems
to  support  differences  in  textual  structure,  such  as  the  acceptability in
Japanese texts of what seems  to the English eye  to be the abrupt  insertion of
irrelevant matter (see Hinds 1983),  or certain features of word order and use
of  conjunctions  that are redolent  of  Indian languages being carried over
into  writing in Indian  English  (Kachru  1987).  Similarly, differences  in 6.8  Culture and rhetoric
preference of  particular theme-rheme  sequences (see section 2.3) have been
claimed.  Even  within  the  same  language  family differences have  been
suggested:  German  academic  texts  seem  to  allow  a greater  amount  of
parenthetical information  and  freedom to digress  than English writing of
the same kind, and there is some evidence that English writers tend  to use
topic sentences at  the beginning of paragraphs where German writers might
prefer a bridging sentence between paragraphs.
But by no means everyone agrees that such tendencies are significant, nor
that they cause problems for language learners. Typical of the confusion  is
the  case  of  Arabic  and  Chinese:  Kaplan  had  spoken  of  parallelism  for
Arabic and indirection for Oriental texts, but Bar-Lev (1986) finds more of
a tendency to 'fluidity' in Arabic text (i.e. non-hierarchical progression with
a preference  for connexion with  and, but, and so), and claims that paral-
lelism is a property of Chinese and Vietnamese. Aziz (1988),  however, finds
that Arabic text has a preference for the theme-repetition pattern  (the  first
of  the three theme and rheme patterns discussed  in  section 2.3), making it
different  from English  and  indeed suggesting  a  sort of  parallelism.  Then
again, as regards Chinese, Mohan and Lo (1985) found no marked differ-
ences between  Chinese  texts  and  English ones.  This  sort  of  conflicting
evidence does not provide  the answers  to the sorts of  questions language
teachers are concerned with. Nor  is the picture any clearer with regard  to
whether there is cross-cultural interference for learners. Language teachers
are  therefore left with  intuition, experience and their own data as the most
reliable resources for deciding whether interference is a problem.
What we  find  frequently  in  examining Middle  Eastern,  Oriental  and
other  learner  data  in English  are  the  same problems  noted  in  European
data: that  bad discourse  organisation  often  accompanies  poor  lexico-
grammatical competence.  Just as we observed an Italian  learner failing to
produce a satisfactory and complete general-specific  pattern  in comparing
British and Italian teenagers (extract  6.7), so we find similar difficulties with
a Japanese low-level learner doing the same task:
(6.10)  British teenagers watching  television. Boys and girls many people.
My country teenagers very more people watching  television, because
my country television more select. My country TV have channel1
no.l,3,4,6,8,10,12.
British teenagers playing football very  famous. But my country
teenagers playing baseball very  famous.
(Author's data 1989)
Reader activity 7  d
Consider this essay on differences between English and Japanese teenagers
by  a  higher-level  Japanese learner  of  English.  Does  it  display better 6  Written  language
discourse patterning than extract (6.10), and if  so, in what way(s)?
I'd  like to compare the habits of  teenagers with those of  teenagers in
my country.
In Britain both boys and girls spent time for watching TV,
listening to records and going  to disco. That is the same teenagers in
my country. Of course there are some leisure for girls and for boys.
British girls spent most time for going to  the cinema and time with
boyfriend. That  is a  little bit different from teenagers in my country,
my  sister who is 15 years old, she spent most time for shopping and
studying. I think Japan and  Britain are different from education
system that's  why Japanese teenagers spent most time for
studying.
British boys spent most time for football because, in this country,
football is the most popular sports  that's  why they spent most time
for football. In Japan baseball is the most popular sports so  Japanese
boys (teenagers) spent most time for baseball.
If  the culture is similar Japan and Britain  it would be a same result
but in fact Japan and Britain are completely different from the
culture. For example, food,  religion, popular sports and so on. So the
result  is a bit different.
(Author's data 1989)
The  arguments we  have  been  making  about  the  link  between  lexico-
grammatical  competence  and discourse  competence  do  not  mean  that
particular  features  in  the  realisation  of  discourse  patterning cannot  be
improved or directly taught; the main point  is  that macro-patterns them-
selves do not seem to be  lacking once reasonable general competence has
been achieved, and that, where the macro-patterns are absent, there seem to
be basic clause- and sentence-level  problems  that demand higher priority in
teaching. Nonetheless,  we  have  argued  that while  lower-order  skills are
being taught,  the higher-order features can be practised  through pair and
group  activities  such  as  chaining and  text-jigsaw activities,  where  the
macro-level decisions can be hscussed in the learners' L1,  or if  in L2,  then
at  least divorced from  the  immediate stresses of  encoding the  individual
clauses and sentences.
The sorts  of discourse  features  that do  lend themselves  to direct interven-
tion  are  likely  to be  discourse-signalling vocabulary,  appropriate use  of
conjunctions and other linking words, and perhaps a closer look at refer-
ence and ellipsis/substitution. There does seem  to be  some evidence that
learners do not handle anaphoric reference at  the text level as efficiently as
they might, but again  it is not always clear whether  this  is because some
languages  tolerate more repetition of  the noun head rather than pronomi-
nalisation, or that they use ellipsis for subsequent occurrences of  the same 6.8  Culture and  rhetoric
entity  after  first  mention  (as  seems  to  operate  in  Japanese),  or  indeed
whether local encoding stresses are once more to blame rather than cross-
linguistic interference.  If  we examine two of  the sentences from the Japan-
ese  learner's  text  in  Reader  activity  7, we  see  an  unnatural  amount  of
noun-head  repetition:
(6.11)  British boys spent most time for football because,  in this country,
football is the most popular sports that's  why they spent most time
for football.  In Japan baseball  is the most popular sports so  Japanese
boys (teenagers) spent most time for baseball.
Something like this might sound more natural:
(6.12)  British boys spend most of  their time playing football, because in this
country it is the most popular sport, and that is why they spend most
of  their time playing it.
We might even wish to look at  the possibilities  for substitution and reduce
the last part of  the text to 'and  that is why  this is so'. Such changes to the
text  do not  hide  the more  obvious  lexico-grammatical  errors,  but  they
certainly  improve  the  overall  feeling  of  naturalness once  the  lexico-
grammatical errors have also been dealt with. But  it is not always easy to
separate  discourse-level weaknesses  from the  local lexico-grammatical
ones, especially when the latter are  thick on the ground in a piece of  learner
writing.
Reader activity8  d
In  what  way(s) could  this'paragraph  from  a  Korean learner's  essay be
improved  in  terms  of  discourse features  such  as conjunction,  anaphoric
reference, ellipsis/substitution? You may find it helpful  to correct the more
obvious mistakes in grammar and vocabulary first, and then  to reread the
text.
Korea has developed radically in economy over the past 25 years. All
industries have developed and especially mechanical industries have
advanced, for example, electric, steel and car industries. As a result
development of  industries, Korea has become rich country and
almost houses have had televisions, videos and cars.
(Author's data 1989)
Paying  attention  to  the  grammar-and-discourse features described  in
Chapter  2  is  a  partial  means  of  attending  to  the writer's  responsibility
towards  the  reader, in  terms of assisting orientation  to the writer's argument 6. Written  language
and giving signals  to the reader as  to how the segments of the text relate tp
one another. Process approaches to the teaching of writing tend to include
such features anyway, and some materials for the teaching of  writing do
also take into account the macro-planning of  text with regard to patterns
such as problemsolution and others we have looked at (e.g. Hamp-Lyons
and Heasley 1987).
6.9  Dlscounre and the  reader
We cannot leave  this chapter, and indeed,  the whole discussion of discourse
analysis and  language teaching, without considering the  influence of  dis-
course analysis on the teaching of  reading. What we shall conclude about
discourse and reading in fact follows consistently from what we have said
in this chapter and in earlier ones: we cannot explain discourse patterning
at  the macro-level without paying due attention to the role of gammar and
lexis; by  the same token, we cannot foster good reading without consider-
ing global and local reading skills simultaneously.
In recent years, questions of  reading pedagogy have centred on whether
bottom-up  (i.e.  decoding  of  the text  step-by-step  from  small  textual
elements such as words and phrases) or top-down  (using macro-level clues
to decode the text) strategies are more important. The debate seems  to have
settled,  quite sensibly, on a compromise  between local and global decoding,
and  there  is'general agreement  that  efficient readers  use  topdown  and
bottom-up  processing simultaneously (e.g. Eskey 1988).  This fits with our
general view  of  discourse as being manifested  in macro-level patterns  to
which a constellation of  local lexico-grammatical choices contribute. The
best  reading materials will  encourage an  engagement with larger textual
forms (for example  through  problem-solving exercises at the whole-text
level) but not neglect the  role of individual words, phrases and grammatical
devices  in guiding  the reader around the text (e.g. Greenall and Swan 1986,
who achieve a balance of  both ingredients).
But at both the micro- and macro-level, caution in how to introduce the
discourse dimension is called for. In the case of  cohesion, for example, the
precise relationship between cohesion and coherence is unclear, and focus-
ing on cohesive devices for reading purposes may not guarantee any better
route towards a coherent interpretation of  the text (see Steffensen 1988). At
the macro-level, much has been made in recent years of schema  theory, that
is, the role of  background knowledge in the reader's ability to make sense
of  the  text.  The  theory  is  that  new  knowledge can only be  processed
coherently in relation  to  existing knowledge frameworks,  and  that  the
efficient  reader activates  the necessary frameworks to assist in decoding the
text being read. The frameworks are not only knowledge about the world
(e.g.  about natural phenomena, about typical sequences of  real-life events 6.9  Discourse  and  the reader
and behaviour), but also about texts, how texts are  typically structured and
organised, thus  enabling us to  talk about  two  kinds of schemata: content and
formal, respectively. The theory  in itself seems plausible enough; the more
we are locked into  the world of the text, the easier it is  to absorb new infor-
mation. It is often held that the teacher's  job  is to help the reader to activate
the appropriate schemata. While we have already tested  the value of  pre-
dicting what textual pattern(s)  a given  text may be going  to realise in Reader
activity 5 as an awareness activity for constructing patterns in writing, it is
not at  all certain whether activating the right  formal schema for reading can
help much  if  the right content schema  is lacking.  If  the teacher's  job  then
becomes one of  supplying the appropriate content schemata for a possibly
vast number of textual encounters, then we are out of the world of discourse
as such and firmly in  the  realm of  the  teaching of  culture,  and we are not
necessarily  teaching the  learner any  skill  that will be subsequently  productive.
What we  have  already  said,  and what may  be  repeated  now,  is  that
listening and  reading have  in  common  a  positive  and  active role for  the
receiver, and, if  any insight is to be taken seriously on board from discourse
analysis, it is that good listeners and readers are constantly attending  to the
segmentation of  the discourse, whether by  intonational  features in speech,
or by orthographical  features in writing, or by  lexico-grammatical signals
in  both. What  is  also clear is  that good  listeners  and  readers  are always
predicting what  is  to come,  both  in  terms  of  the next  few words  and  in
terms  of  larger patterns  such  as problem-solution, narrative,  and  so on.
This act of prediction may be in the form of precise prediction of content or
a more diffuse prediction  of  a  set of  questions that the author is likely to
answer.  For this  reason, interpreting  the author's  signals  at  the  level  of
grammar and vocabulary as to what questions helshe is going to address is
as useful  as  predicting,  for  example,  the  content  of  the  rest  of  a  given
sentence or paragraph. This will rnean paying attention  to structures such
as  cleft sentences  (see section  2.3), rhetorical questions, front-placing  of
adverbials and other markers,  and any other discourse-level features. The
reading  text  will  be  seen  simultaneously  as  an  artifact  arising  from  a
context and a particular set of assumptions of world knowledge, and as an
unfolding message  in which  the writer has  encoded a  lot more  than  just
content, with signposts at various stages to guide the reader around.
Reader activity  9 d
Try and predict as much as you can about this news text from the first  two
paragraphs  which  are given  on the  following  page. What  do you  think
caused the problem of  the telephone boxes being out of order? Will the text
give us.  an answer? What other things  is  it likely to tell us? Will this be  a
typical problem-solution  text? 6 Written language
Public  telephones ring
again  in  Newmarket
A  NEW  era  is  about  to  dawn  for
Newmarket  redents who  for  the
past few weeks bave been unable  to
use the public telephone boxes  in the
town.
Following  complaints  made  over
several weeks  British  Telecom  set
aside two days last week  and  several
engineers worked  to  put  the faults
right.
(from Cambridge/Newmarket Town Crier, 1 August  1987, p. 32)
At this point, we have come to the conclusion not only of  this chapter, but
of this book. There will no doubt be many other things that will need to be
said about discourse analysis and language teaching, for discourse analysis
is a fast-moving discipline, and our knowledge of how language occurs in
its natural contexts is growing all the time. There is, perhaps, little need to
reiterate  the  conclusions  that  have  constantly  reared  their heads in the
course of  this book,  but  this  may be  the  right moment  to  restate  one
fundamental principle:  just  because linguists can describe a phenomenon
convincingly  does  not  mean  that  it has  to  become  an  element  of  the
language-teaching syllabus. The practical  pressures of  language teaching
mean  that  teachers will always,  rightly, want  to  evaluate  carefully any
descriptive insights before taking them wholly to heart as teaching points.
Discourse analysis  is not a method for teaching  languages, nor does  it claim
to be  that.  But  it  is my  own  personal  view  that  discourse analysis has
presented  us with a  fundamentally different way  of  looking at language
compared with  sentencedominated models,  one in which  the  traditional
elements of grammar, lexis and phonology still have a fundamental part to
play, but one which is bigger and more immediately relevant. What is more,
we now know more about what people actually do with language when
they speak and write, and no  longer have  to rely on what textbooks largely
based  on  intuition  and  sometimes,  sadly, on Classical-based  notions  of
what  'good' usage  is,  claim  to be  the way  people speak  and write. We
know more  about  the delicate relationship between  language forms and 6.1  0  Conclusion
particular  contexts  and  users;  such knowledge  can only  be immensely
valuable. Teachers  will  make  up  their  own  minds  as  to whether their
methods  and  techniques  need  rethinking  in  the  light  of  what  discourse
analysts say, but, as with all new trends in linguistic theory and description,
it is important that discourse analysis be subjected not only to the scrutiny
of  applied  linguists  but  also  to  the testing grounds of  practical materials
and classroom activities. I hope that this book has done a little of both, and
will  inspire a good deal more, especially of  the latter.
Further reading
On differences between  speech  and  writing,  see  Chafe  (1982), Redeker  (1984),
Tottie and Backlund  (1986), Biber  (1988)  and Halliday (1989).
For more  on  implicitness/explicitness  in speech  and writing,  see Mazzie  (1987).
A very practically oriented approach to speech and writing is found in ~ieeborn  et
a/.  (1986).
Good general papers on recent views of writing are  to be found in Couture (1986).
Discussion of different approaches to  the  teaching of writing can be found in Zamel
(1983 and 1987), Shih  (1986) and Michaels  (1987).
On the links between the density of cohesive ties and overall coherence, see Tierney
and Mosenthal  (1983).
On the status of  the paragraph,  see Longacte (1979).
For  a discourse-segment  approach  to paragraphs see Stark  (1988) and Hofmann
(1989).
The arguments  for  and against cross-cultural  differences and  interference  at  the
discourse level may be pursued further in Clyne (1981 and 1987a and b), Connor
and  McCagg  (1983), Scarcella  (1984), House  (1985), Wierzbicka  (1985)  and
Stalker and Stalker (1989).
Rhetoric  studies  contrasting  English  with  other,  specific  languages (including
Hindi, German, Korean,  Mandarin  and  Japanese) may  be found  in  Kaplan
(1983).
Problems associated with  top-down and  bottom-up  strategies  in  reading  are
explored in Carrell  (1988).
Schema  theory  is  discussed in  Rumelhart  (1975) and  in  Carrell  and Eisterhold
(1983), or  the updated  version  of  this paper  in  Carrell  et  al.  (1988),  and  in
Steffensen (1986);  whether  content  or  formal  schemata  affect  reading com-
prehension more is taken up in Carrell  (1987).
Hoey and Winter  (1986) give further details on the questionanswer pattern.
On inference and the language learner, see Carton  (1971).
The  reciprocal relationship  between  writer  and  reader  is  explored  in  Nystrand
(1986)  and in Smith (1986). Ouidance  for Reader actdtm
I
Chapter 1
Activity 1, paw  9
Possible contexts:
la)  A:  You caused a bit of  a stir.
B:  Did I make a fool of myself?
A:  No  .  .  .  it wasn't  that, it's  just  that you shocked some people.
Ib)  A:  Oh dear! Did I make a fool of myself  last night!
B:  Why? What did you do?
A:  I was invited to Tom's  for dinner and before the meal I said I hated
curried prawns, and that's what they served for dinner!  -
2a)  A:  There's  a very good reason why I don't want to marry you.
B:  You don't  love me?
A:  Okay .  .  .  if  you want a straight answer . .  .-  yes  .  .  .  I'm  sorry.
2b)  A:  You don't  love me, my children don't  love me, nobody loves me!
B:  Oh grow up! Don't  be silly!
A:  Well, it's  true, you said so.
3a)  A:  What does one normally do with this outside skin?
B:  You eat it  .  . .  or some people just  throw it away.
A:  Mm .  . .  how interesting.
3b)  A:  I don't  like this porridge.
B:  You eat it, and shut up!
4a)  A:  Switch the light on.
B:  (switches  it on)
A:  Thanks.
4b)  A:  I wonder how we could see if  anything was written on the back
. . .  through  the paper.
B:  Switch the light on?
C:  Yes, we could do . . .  where's  the switch? Chapter 2
Actlvity 2, page 11
It would be strange to begin a discourse with 'I  mean' in this way;  'I mean'
usually  occurs  as  a  marker  of  the  speaker  making  a  paraphrase  or  re-
statement  of  something  helshe  has  already  said.  'This  new emblem'
assumes,  in the use of this,  that the listener knows which emblem is being
referred  to. We shall look more closely at  this sort of assumption made by
speakers in  section 2.2.  It is not clear to us who him is, either, though it is
quite  clear  to  the  speakers. Finally  this extract ends  with  a  question;
questions normally expect answers.
Activity 3, page 14
1.  Other situations: doctor-patient  interviews ('okay,  let's  have a  look at
you'), church services ('let us pray'), meetings ('right,  let's make a start
shall we'), checking in at a hotel ('okay,  the boy will show you to your
room'),  hiring a car ('right  .  .  .  if  you  just  follow  that gentleman, he'll
show you where the car is'). There are, of course, many more.
2.  In  English, probably the most frequent are: right,  right then, okay, so,
well, well now, well then, good. Note that this is quite a restricted set.
Are the sets in other languages equally  restricted?
3.  My  pupils have  frequently pointed  out  to me  that my  own  personal
favourite is '0-kee-doe!'
Actlvlty 4, page 17
1  Original order of the transcript:
1)  A:  Can I help you?
2)  B:  Um have you by any chance got anything on Bath?
3)  A:  I'm  awfully sorry, we haven't  .  .  .  urn I don't know where you
can try for Bath actually.
4)  B:  You haven't  no, no.
5)  A:  Urn I don't  really know  .  .  .  you could try perhaps Pickfords in
Littlewoods, they might be able to help you.
6)  B:  No .  .  .  in Littlewoods is it?
7)  A:  Yeah they're  inside there now.
8)  B:  Okay thanks.
Moves  (1)  and  (2) are easy  to place:  they  contain formulaic openings for
transactions at shops and service counters ('can  I help you?' 'have you  by
any chance .  .  .  ').  The response (3)  is equally formulaic in service encoun-
ters.  (4) is  slightly more problematic  in  that  'no,  no'  seems a  little out of Gadace  for Reader ahities
place, but in fact yes  and no are frequently used just  as  'fillers'  in conver-
sations, without their full meaning of  positive and negative polarity.  (5)
repeaB  part  of  (4)  ('I  don't  know'),  and  (6) has  repetition  from  (5)
('Littlewoods')  and the backward referring pronounit.  (7)  also uses prono-
minal reference but this  time  a plural,  they;  it and  they  are often  used
interchangeably by speakers to refer to companies.  (8)  is then a formulaic
closing of  a  service  encounter.  Thus  the moves  easiest  to place  are  the
formulaic  openings and  closings,  which  all  language  users  recognise
instantly.
Examples from other languages:  in Hungarian, in a formal situation, a
fourth pan (equivalent  to 'you're  welcome'l'not  at all')  is essential:
A:  Elnkht, megmondani az idot?  (Excuse me, d'you
have the time?)
B:  Igen  . . .  fkl ot.  (Yes . .  .  half past
four.)
A:  Koszonom.  (Thanks.)
B:  Kirem.  (You're welcome.)
Informally, the same exchange might have only three parts:
A:  Ne haragudj, megmondanid az idot?
B:  FCl  ot.
A:  Kosz (onom}.
Here is a suggested analysis:
[  ] =  kaming moves at the boundaries of  transactions;
// =  exchange boundary; / = move boundary
Suggested labels for acts are in italics.
marker  elicitation
L:  well], // that should blow a hole in five pounds, shouldn't
it?  /
~.PY
S1:  It's qulte cheap actually. I
comment
L:  (laughs)  11
elicitation
S1: What's  the urn  lecturers' club like, senior, r senior, you
know.  I
L:  [Ah it's  very
reply
cosy and sedate and, er, you know, nice little armchairs
and curtains . . .  there are some interesting characters Chapter 1
who get there. //
elicitation
S2:  Is that the one where they have the toilets marked with er
gentlemen, no, 'ladies and members'? /  reply
I  Oh, oh  comment
1  Yeah it was
one of the other lecturers who pointed it out, he  r  thought it
was quite amusing. /
L:
comment
[Yeah, I
hadn't noticed that, ~eah,  might well be, yeah.  //
directive
B:  Four sixty-seven please.  /
aside
L:  Is that all, God, I thought it would cost more than that /  -
react  elicit
(pays)  .  .  .  thank you  .  .  .  I/  I thought it would cost more
than that.  /
with that one. 1
marker elicit
L:  [Now]  //how are we going to carry all these over?  1
The problems here arise from the fact that the lecturer and his pupils have
stepped out of  role for an informal gathering. Therefore, for one thing, we
do not get  typical  teacher (evaluative) follow-up moves,  though  speakers
still make comments on other speakers' utterances. It is difficult to label the
lecturer's  'Oh,  oh',  since  it does not  seem  to be  answering the student's
question about the  toilets in the lecturers' club. Nonetheless, the questioner
comments as though she has had an answer, or perhaps simply to expand
her question, and the lecturer just  seems to add another comment.
Another  difficulty  is  the  lecturer's  initial reaction  to  the  price  of  the
drinks; he makes a remark that does not seem to be addressed to anyone  in
particular,  but  is  rather  an  'aside'. After  paying, he  redirects  the  same
remark to  the students, who then reply, three of them speaking  at once. The
whole transaction, marked off  by  the two framing moves,  functions as a
'socialising'  phase while the drinks are being served; the group has to talk
about something, since such a long period of silence would not be tolerated.
Actlvlty 6, page 26
Sentence  2: More  continental  is  a  comparative tie  which  can  only  be
understood in relation to  traditional  in sentence 1. You  in the second clause Guidance for Reader activities
refers to 'Which?  readers' in the first. Electric shaver is repeated.
Sentence 3: Shaving is repeated from sentence 1.
Sentence 4: Women and Which?  readers are repetitions from sentences 2
and 3. Remove body hair is repeated, and so is shaver.
Text 1: The second sentence  is the reason for the first.
Text  2: A cause-consequence relation exists between the first two  segments;
with  subordination ('which made  .  . .  ')  as supporting evidence. The first
two segments taken together then become a single, larger segment which
stands  in a matching relation of  contrast with the rest of  the extract. Note
the signal provided by  the syntactic parallelism  ('In Britain'l'on  the Con-
tinent').
Text 1: Situation and problem are simultaneously identified  in the headline.
Problem  is  expanded up  to  'hazard  to  health'.  Aesponse  and  positive
evaluation are interwoven in the rest of the text.
General signals:
problem: cause damage/ruin/repugnant/hazard
response:  cure/develop
waluation:  guarantee/ensure/for goodhried and tested
Text 2: Situation and problem  are in sentence 1. Problem  is expanded in
sentences 2  and  3.  Response  starts  at  'The  rudimentary  cure',  but this
response  is only partial and not evaluated  very positively. The  true  response
comes in the next paragraph ('But we believe .  .  .  ')  and the one after that.
The last paragraph then gives the positive evaluation.
General signals:
problem:  badly/suffer/tiring
partial response:  rudimentary cure
response:  prevention/wa  ys/reducing/explore/techniques
evaluation:  rudimentary/result/smoothleffortless
The concocted text was a simplified affair, for the sake of illustration. Real
texts are usually more subtly interwoven, like these two. But even here, we
can see the elements of our pattern and its signals. Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Text 1:  It refers to the situation described in the first sentence.
Text 2: It  refers to  the automatic  dog barking unit, and could be substituted
by  any one of  three  noun  phrases:  '(the) automatic dog  barking  unit',
'Guard Dog:  or 'the Boston Bulldog'.
There  is no 'right answer' to  this one, but you may find that some examples
with that will be difficult to fit into the rules we have suggested. Ideally, a
massive, computer-based study is needed to clarify this sort of usage.
The Northem lreland Secretary:  this is  rather  like the Queen, the Pope, etc.,
a reference to a unique figure in an assumed shared world. Similarly, the
jury,  the  judge and the Crown, make references to the English legal system
which the writer assumes the readers will be familiar with.
Activlty 4, page 42
Cataphoric  item: it (sentence  I),  referring  to  the 61st annual  feast of the San
Gennaro (sentence  3).
Ellipses:
Text 1:  'Trips (are) taken home';  'social  life (is)  lived'.
Text 2:  'Yes,  don't  you (like watching children)?';  '(she) only looked at  the
swings';  'But  you wouldn't  (join  in)!';  'Why  don't you  (join in)?';  'Why
don't  I (join in)!'.  t
The writer  here obviously wishes  to  say  that  helshe will  send further
information.  Do  so  could  only  be  used  if  send  or  a similar  verb had
occurred in the previous clause.  In  fact the previous clause only contains
require, which makes  do  so inappropriate as a substitute. Guih  for  Reader activities
However  (line  8): adversative
And (line 11): additive
And  (line 18): additive
What's more (line 22): additive
So  (line  27):  causal
The extract begins with and, which signals the start of  a new  story  in  a
string  of stories  that are being told. Sjxaker A uses hut,  in the same  turn, to
return the discourse  to the main narrative afcer the 'aside'  ('I  forget where
the village was'). The next and is just a linker between the narrative and the
reporting of direct  speech, a typical function of and. So  is causal (he  turned
left because he was told to).
In A's  next turn, she uses but to reiterate an earlier statement ('but they
all  followed behind'). As with Firth's  (1988)  data, B uses see to  introduce  his
justification of  events. A then uses kt  again to return the discourse  to the
next episode of  the narrative. Finally, B reiterates his justification with and
you see.
These examples are  typical of  how speakers use  such  small, everyday
words to relate chunks of  the discourse  to one another.
Activity 9, pages 524
Examples of variations might be:
1.  It's  the children Bob takes out every Saturday. (cf. (2.39))
Every Saturday, Bob takes the children out. (cf. (2.38))
He takes  the children out every Saturday, Bob.  (cf. (2.41))
2.  What the gardener wants to do this spring is cut down those bushes.
(cf.  (2.40))
Thsse bushes,  the gardener wants to cut them down  this spring.  (cf.
(2.37))
The gardener,  he  wants ta  cut  down those  bushes  this  spring.  (cf.
(2.42)
Text 1: bill in the rheme of sentence 1  is  taken up as  theme (cost)  in sentence
2.  Study  in  the  rheme of  (2)  t>ecornes  the theme of  (3).  The rheme of  (3)
contains a mention of the collective author of  the study, The Fellowship of
Engiwering, which is taken up in the  theme of  (4)  as  the author. The rheme
of  (4) names  the  individual  author,  Philip Comer,  and  he  becomes  the Chapter 3
theme  (he) or (5). We therefore have an overall tendency towards theme-
rheme option  (a).
Text 2:  The brain, the theme of  sentence 1, is also the theme of  sentences 2
and 3. We  then have a fronted adjectival phrase ('as soft as a ripe avocado'),
but  the brain  is still subject, and  therefore part of  the  theme. Sentence 5
continues with an adult brain as theme, as does sentence 6 (it). Sentence 7
has the brain as theme again, and then  the pattern is somewhat broken by
the fronted verbal group ('Coming out of. .  .  '),  as the theme shifts to the
brain stem, which  takes over as theme in  the last part of  the extract. The
overall dominant pattern  is, therefore, theme-rheme  option  (b).
Actlvity 11, page 60
We would have to explain to the student that, conventionally, the clause,
'In  this  essay  I  try  to discuss  .  .  .  ' would  occur  in  the  preface or  intro-
duction to the essay, and that present perfect ('I  have tried') would be used
at the end of  the essay to look back over the whole essay up to that point.
However, 'are suggested in the last section' is acceptable,  since  'last' and the
'conclusion' can be seen as part of  the same 'present' segment of  the essay.
Chapter 3
Activlty 1, page 68
Dozing  is  reiterated as  its  superordinate slept  in  sentence  3,  and  then
resurfaces as dozing again  in  sentence 6. Sentence 7 then has a colloquial
near-synonym, kipping.
Guards  is  taken up  as a  synonym, sentries  in  sentence 3 (two occur-
rences); then as a general superordinate, soldiers in (4);  then as a hyponym,
airmen in (6),  which  is repeated in  (8).
There is therefore a considerable amount of  lexical variation, even just
for  these  two  words. Note,  in  addition,  how campaigners  (1) becomes
protesters  (2), and  resurfaces as campaigner  in  (4); walk  in  (2) is  repre-
sented by  a hyponym, tip-toed  in  (3);  cruise launchers  (2) becomes cruise
convoy (3),  launchers in  (6),  the superordinate vehicles in  (7), and convoy
in  (8).
Actlvlty 2, pages 7&1
(T  =  turn)
TI: knitting .  . .  knitting; TS: knitting .  .  .  knitting; all repetitions. Knitting
does not occur after TS.
TI: garment; T12: garments; TlS:  clothes  .  .  .  summer dresses .  .  .  shifts Guidance  for Reader activities
(vim  over fifteen turns, becoming more specific in TlS).
T3: lovely; T4: nice (a short-lived chain)
The most persistent topic is 'clothes';  the sub-topic of  'knitting'  gives way
to its co-hyponym  'sewing'  in T9,  while  'cheapness'  emerges as another
sub-topic (T13  and T17).
Financial here seems to mean 'strictly  concerning profit and loss in money
terms';  economic seems to concern the broader planning of  the economy,
and the role of the railway in the overall budget for  transport, services, etc.,
i.e.  it is an asset (last sentence).
Text 1: These questions refers back to all of  sentences  2,3,  and 4.
Text 2:  The  issues  refers  forward  to  'accountability, relationships with
voluntary bodies, what their role is'.
On page 76 you will find 'this account (of the work of certain words.  . .  )',
which refers back to the whole of  section 3.5  up to that point.  In the next
paragraph 'this  particular  lexical area'  can be read as a reference back to
'the work of certain words in organising discourse'. In the same paragraph,
answers can be seen  to  refer forward  to  the descriptions of the contributions
of Winter, Francis and Jordan.
The  paragraph  beginning  'Winter's  work,  and  its  extension  .  .  .  '
@age  78) contains  the  phrase  'some  interesting questions', which refers
forward  to  the whole of  the  rest of  that paragraph.  The next paragraph
then  begins  with  a  backward  reference  (these questions)  to  the  same
segment of  text.
It is almost impossible  to write academic/argumentativk  text of  this kind
without using such otganising words to  refer back  and 'forth to different
segments of the text.
Text 1: Words strongly associated with problem-solution  patterns:
crisis  coping with  demands  problem scarcity provides
developed  answer solutions  ways  tackling  issues  solution
Claim-counterclaim pattern: adopt the view  argue against
The predominant pattern is problem-solution. Chapter 4
Text 2: Words associated with claim-counterclaim:
believe strongly in  think ( x 2)  hold  on  the other hand  places more
faith in considers dismisses  believes
The predominant pattern is claim-counterclaim. Note the lexical variation
in verbs meaning 'to  thinklbelieve something',.
Adlvity 7, page 86
Modal words: Can (headline); Could; there's  some evidence.  .  .  that, may,
can.
Chapter 4
Activlty 1, page 89
Possible  realisations  in  rapid,  informal,  Standard Britlsh  English  are  as
follows:
1.  [tena levm mans agau]
2.  [ar aest rm WD?  went on]
3.  [no? h3: n~3  mearr]
4.  [kans~dr~m  mar erd3 ar  raem marlz]
Note particularly how final In/ sounds anticipate  following  /m/ sounds and
assimilate to  them. Elisions here include dropping the 181 sounds of months
and the loss of  /a/  between Id/ and /r/  in considering. Note also the glottal
stops (?);  some speakers consider these to be bad,  'sloppy' speech, but they
are extremely common in  the informal, conversational speech of people af
a wide range of  social backgrounds.
Activity 2, page 91
Possible readings:
/  -  1-  -  I  -
1  What's  the matter with Mary?
-1  -  -  /  --
/
2.  1  knew she would come in the end.
I-  -  1  --  1-
3.  Put salt on those chips if you want to.
-  I  --I  I  --
4.  He works on a farm, doesn't  he?
-I/-/
There are other possible readings (e.g.  I knew she would come). Guidance  for  Reader.actiuities
1.  Which hat shall Jo wear to the drinks party?
F  F  RFF RRF  FR
LLLSLLLSSLL  LS
2.  I met Bill Smith in town at lunchtime.
FF F  FRF  RF  F
LLLU  LSL  SL  S
3.  A bottle of  mineral water.
RFRR F R  FR
S LSS  L S  LA
There are problems here.  In (2),  in many situations the word I  would be a
reduced  sound,  almost  a schwa,  but  not  quite. Example  3  raises  the
question of vowels  that are elided in rapid speech but which may be present
in careful speech  (the middle vowel  of  lminarall. Bolinger's  theory does
seem to idealise pronunciation and not take context into account.
Actlvity 4, pago 96
2  1
1.  disused
1  2
2.  canplicated
2  1
3.  -listion
12
4.  dinosaur
Actlvity 5, paw 87
Possible renditions:
1.  DOES  the SOW  contain MEAT?
2.  Sorry to ring you so LATE,
3.  WIU  you accept a CHEQUE?
Activity 6, page 88
Some  apparent  misplacings  of  prominence  can  be  traced  to  incorrect
notions of which syllables are normally stressed in compound words  (e.g.
'car  PARK'  instead of  'CAR  park').  Speakers of  some languages have a
tendency  to  stress the  ha1 word in  an  utterance, again producing  odd
perceptions of prominence on occasions where the final word would not be
prominent in English (e.g.  'IS mr  JONES  here?  i have a MEssage for HIM'). Chapter 4
Activity 7,  page 100
Possible tone groups:
1.  / i've LOST my CAR keys /
2.  / Suddenly / a CAT jumped out /
3,  / it's MONdays / i hate MOST  /
4.  / DAvid / i know QUITE WELL / his SISter / i don't know  at ALL  /
Activity 8, page 104
The Hallidayan system does have the advantage that utterances are divided
up into small, manageable chunks, and that individual parts of  it can be
examined separately (e.g.  just  tone groups or tonics), but it is complicated
and forbidding-looking when all the features are indicated simultaneously.
Brown's system may be quite good for anyone with a basic knowledge of
music (cf.  the stave), and Iong stretches  of talk can be visualised at a glance.
However,  the  eye has  constantly  to  jump  back  and  forth  between  two
centres of attention&he text and the notation), which is not so marked with
Halliday's system.
Some American phonologists indicate intonation by  letting the writing
move up and down as the voice would, e.g.:
Every  portant infor
body  This is im  ma
listen!  tion.
In the end, different systems will suit different purposes in  the classroom,
but anything with a strong visual appeal will probably help learners.
Actlvity 9, pages 1074
1.  I he's  a STUpid F~L!  / (e.g. expressing  anger/exasperation)
L  \
/ he's  as TAU  as ME!  / (e.g. an adult of  a child who has grown a lot,
expressing surprise) \
2.  if  you Opened your  it!  / (exasperation)
;n
1  i'm  deLIGHTed  it! / (delight/pleasure)
\
3.  1  irk?  I i DON? beh~  it!  / (incredulity)
/  & Guidance for  Reader actiuities
9  \
/ fO I he  BOUGHT a  NEW one I (narrating,  emotionally  neutral?
Possibly ironic?)  L
It does seem relatively easy to put almost any emotional interpretation on
to these  tone contours, which suggests that they alone are not connected
with specific attitudes.
Adivny 10, page 110
1.  / IF you seew  /CAN you ask him to $6  me?  I
(Both fall and fall-rise  are possible on 'ring me';  fall-rise  will be heard
as more 'polite' because it is less closed and final, suggesting  less that it
is an instruction.)
\  f
2.  A:  I i met JOsie CQLEman I in Tm  /
A:  IY~I
B's  answer with  fall-rise  indicates that helshe does not consider the
information  'closed';  A hears this as a request for confirmation.
3.  A:  / IS it five o'+cfc?  /
\
B:  / FIVE  /
\  \=
b!  1  A:  / AH!  / GQOD! / JUST in T
L  L  L
A's  question  is  an  'open'  meaning  (A does not know the  time). B's
response is definite, closed. A's  follow-up is a  final, closed statement
that requires no further comment from B.
Adlvity 11, pagel 112
Likely high- and low-key realisations:
1.  A:  / i'll  ASK hos  Y  I k$  brazilian /
 ART^^?  he's  ~han  DIDn't you %o%?
B: /  1  /  /
B's  high key expresses something contrasting with expectations.
2.  A:  / &  I T+  / you've  been
L  \
VEry -full
&o?  ME?  j&!
B:  /  Sr  I  /  I NOT at lLL!  / it's my  l~ /
L Chapter 5
A's  'you've been very helpful'  is presented as equivalent to 'thanks';  B
politely deflects A's  gratitude using high key to express a contrast with
what A has said.
The same comments could be made here  as were made in Activity 7;  a
longer stretch  of  talk  like this  one  could  as well  be  transcribed  using
Brown's notation. However, if such a transcription were accompanied by a
tape-recording in the classroom, its complexities might be  lessened some-
what,  and, anyway, such a complex transcription would only be  suitable
once learners had become thoroughly familiar with individual levels of  the
system beforehand.
Chapter 5
Activity 1, page 120
In British culture, short service encounters (and encounters such as passing
security barriers) normally end  with server  and  customer both saying
'thank  you',  and without either party using phrases such as 'not  at all',  or
'that's okay'.  These are reserved  for occasions when genuine favours are
done or inconveniences borne  (e.g.  A:--'Thanks  ever so much  for looking
after Tommy' B:  'Oh,  not at all, he was no trouble').  In American English,
the follow-up  'you're welcome'  is common in service  encounters on the part
of the server, and is often accompanied by the formulaic salutation 'Have a
nice day!'  to the customer.
In  general, the adjacency pairs  and  the exchange  structure are  realised
naturally. What oddities there are seem rather  to be  lexical and/or gram-
matical,  for  example  the  use  of  past  tense  instead  of  present  perfect  in
'What happened in this country.  .  .  ?',  and the use of  'turned out' by B. A's
follow-up ('Oh, I see, that's  interesting')  is exactly what one would expect,
as  is  his  'doesn't  matter' later on.  'Awfully  sorry' is perhaps a little
unnatural as a second pair-part when apologising for being unable to full
a request for information;  'Sorry',  or 'I'm  sorry' would be more normal in
British English (as  occurs in B's final nun).
Activity 3, paw 125-8
Taking follow-up moves first, A's  'It's  quite interesting'  is the only genuine
follow-up move of  the type common in reciprocal talk; the rest of the time Gujdunce  for Reader activities
she fallows B's  replies with new initiations. If we take initiations, A is the
one who  initiates all  the  time;  she clearly perceives her role  as  that  of
interviewer; the only questions B addresses are checks that he has under-
stood A's  questions. He dm,  however, make a long informing move at  the
beginning when he tells  the story behind his name (in the original  tran-
script, A does not ask him to  tell the story; he volunteers it spontaneously).
In general, then, we might conclude that these two learners perceive their
role as interviewer and  interviewee, rather  than as equal participants in a
conversation.
This is what a 'cleaned  up' version might look like:
A:  Sit down . . .  you're  all right then?
B:  Yes, okay, Jack. I did a daft thing though, I planned the route out,
you know, I had it all written out, and, unlike most people, you see a
signpost 'Repley',  so 1  took it and I came over Mistham by the
reservoirs, nice it was.
A:  Oh, by Mistham, over the top, nice run.
B:  Colours are pleasant, aren't they?
C:  Yeah.
A:  Nice run that.
B:  Yeah, we enjoyed it .  . .  wasn't  the way we intended, but as usual  it
was nice.
A:  No, we were just  talking about that.
B:  Oh, yes,  it was all right.
'Cleaning up'  the dialogue and making it look like  the sort of dialogue one
finds in many language textbooks creates problems. Back-channels can be
either omitted (as we  have done with  C's  'Yeah's'  while B  is  telling his
story, or else they could be  included as separate turns. Another alternative
is to include the hack-channel in a subsequent turn  (as we have done with
A's  'No, we wax  jw  talking about that'),  but then  the 'No'  seems to be
responding to 'It was trice'  (which  is odd), rather than to 'It wasn't  the way
we intended',  and this rrmtght confuse  the learners.
Punctuation is also a problem. There are usually several possible punctu-
ations for the  same stretch  of  talk,  and  decisions  will  be  subjective.
However,  punctuation  does  help  to  clarify  the  text  for the  learner,
especially in  a  case such as 'You  see  a  signpost "Repley",  so I  took  it',
where the quotation marks tell the learner it is a citation of  something.
The  text remains reasonably natural.  Note  the  natural  grammatical
features such as ellipses ('[The]  colours an  pleasant',  '[A] nice run')  and
note the marked word-order features ('Nice it was',  'Nice  run, that').  The exercise does suggest  that, with careful editing, natural data can be used for
dialogues for classroom use.
The talk begns with exchanges about the weather at Christmm in Britain.
C repeats an earlier remark ('Yes, it was very sunny Christmas Day'),  which
acts as  a summary of the sub-topic; there is  then a pause, filled by a series  of
'Mm' noises. When B starts the new sub-topic ('When are you heading off
again, Bob?'), we might expect a jump to high key. A answers B's question,
and then pauses after 'this  time'  before introducing the new sub-topic of his
suitcase. That sub-topic ends, once again, with a couple of  'Mm's  from A.
B  is  an active  listener  in  that  she makes back-channel  responses  ('Mm',
'Yeah'),  she provides  an  evaluative follow-up ('Oh,  lovely'),  she  uses
checking  tags  ('Is  he!',  'Oh,  haven't they?'),  and  she overlaps with  an
utterance completion in A's  last turn, predicting how he will finish.
Grammatical 'mistakes'  occur in the following:
1.  'More  than another' (should be 'more  than others').
2.  'I  was not able play'  (should be 'able  to play').
3.  'More too much technical'  (shduld be 'too  technical').
4.  'Too much exercises'  (should be 'too many exercises').
5.  'The guitar is more easy'  (should be 'easier').
6.  'Prove again with the piano?' (should be 'to prove [try] again with the
piano').
Of these mistakes, (I),  (4), and (6)  (the  omission of 'to') would probably go
unnoticed in  spontaneous English native-speaker talk,  and even  (5) might
not do more than raise an eyebrow. This is not to say that native English
speakers would not reject these as 'bad grammar' on careful reflection. Guidance for Reader activities
Chapter 6
Activity 1, page 148
My own personal response would be:
Read
Instruction leaflet
Letter tolfrom friend
Public notice
Product la  be1
Newspaper obituary
Poem
News report
Academic article
Small ads
Postcard tolfrom friend
Business letter
Thus, even though I read a lot of  these types of written text, I never write
most of  them.
Advlty 2, page 151
Group B's  text is not a letter as such, but a list of  instructions. It is full of
imperative verb forms, while Group A's  text has softened the first directive
to  the caretaker  by using 'Would you be kind enough to . . .  ',  and later uses
'please'.  Group A have also framed the text as a letter or note, personally
addressed, and  they end their text with a friendly 'interactional' sentence  to
relieve the overwhelmingly 'transactional'  nature of  the rest of  the text. In
the discussion afterwards, some of  the participants argued that it was not
necessary  to send a friendly letter to the caretaker, since it was his job  to
provide such services. Others argued that a friendly tone was necessary to
establish a cooperative relationship; certainly  in a British context the latter
would be a wiser course of  action.
Essay 1: The use of It  in sentence  2 is an example  of the confusion of  it, this
and that as reference items discussed in section 2.2.1. Ideally, the sentence Chapter 6
should read:  'This has been  the cause of many problems  .  .  .  .' However,
comprehensibility and readability are not seriously affected.
Essay 2:  'So  as  for' at  the beginning of sentence 2 is odd. Amore acceptable
version would be:  'Similarly, American teenagers play rugby .  .  .  '.
Essay 3: 'They are  trained . .  .  '  in sentence 4  is odd because 'the astronauts'
have ceased  to be  a current focus (see  section 2.2.1),  other topics having
taken over  ('problems',  'absence  of  gravity',  'period  of  training',  etc.).  It
would be more appropriate,  therefore, to re-enter the noun phrase, and say:
'Astronauts are  trained in simple  jobs . . .  ',  thus restoring the astronauts  to
topical focus.
Essay  1: Sentence 2 seems to contradict sentence  1 as it stands. A more
coherent version might  be:  'My  field  of  study  concerns  architecture.  In
actual  fact,  it is not merely a field of study, but rather a huge world, going
from .  .  .  ', where lexical signals of modification of  the previous statement
help  .  the reader with the text.
Essay 2:  'And  also'  causes problems here. An  alternative form of  linkage
could be:  'The problems of modem cities are derived from the Industrial
Revolution, and even though the cities of my country were not invoIved in
this event, it is nonetheless true that there are .  .  .  '.
Adlvlty 5, page 160
Text I: The first sentences seem to set up a classic claim and counterclaim
pattern, with  rival opinions being expounded. Signals include of  course,
stereotypes  and  absolutely. The  final  sentence  is,  however,  an  explicit
question, so we might expect  the text to go on to evaluate  different answers
to the question and to adopt at least one of  them, thus creat1k.a  larger
questionanswer pattern for the whole text.
Text 2: This is more obviously a question-answer  pattern, with an explicit
question  posed. in  the  headline.  Paragraphs  1  and 2  set  the  situation,
paragraph  3 rbts  the  question  of  the  headline  and  suggest  that  the
answer may  be  'yes',  while paragraph 4  looks at  the government's 'no'
response  to the question. We might expect the text to go on to evaluate  the
'yes'  and  'no' responses,  and,  if  we  are  familiar  with  this  particular
consumer magazine, we might predict that it is the 'yes'  answer which the
author will espouse. Grsidance  for Reader activities
One possible  order  is:  1,  5,  3, 4,  2.  Also possible:  1, 3,  5,  4,  2.  Most
informants  fcel that 4 and 2  should always  be at  the end. Some changes  that
informants  have suggested are:
5.  'The  typical situation is that thousands of people . . .  '
'Week afier week, thousands of  people . .  .  '
4.  'The problem is how to intewene without cancelling . . .  '
The essay  certainly seems  to have more overt discourse organisation.  It
begins with a preview statement setting out what the text will do, then goes
into detailed contrasts, and then ends with a paragraph which gcneralises
on the issue of  differences betvieen  the two cultures. Extract (6.10) on the
other hand, remains on the same level of detail throughout, except.forithe
(somewhat irrelevant) listing of Japanese  television channels. The writer of
the  longer essay also uses overt signalling in phrases such as  'that is  the
same  teenagers  in  my  country'  and  'that  is  a  little bit  different  from
teenagers  in my country'. The only obvious signals of contrast in (6.10)  are
'more people'  sentence 3, and 'But my  country'  sentence 6.
If we correct obvious grammar  and vocabulary mistakes, we might come,up
with a version something  like the following:
Korea has developed radically in its economy over the past 25 years.
All  industries have developed and especially mechanical industries
have advanced, for example, the electrical, steel and car industries.
As a result of  the development of  industry, Korea has become a rich
country and almost all homes have television, video and a car.
The  text  is  actually now  perfectly  acceptable,  but  fine  tuning could  be
applied with  regard to reference and ellipsis. The following changes are
possible:
Korea  has developed radically in its economy over the past 25 years.
All industries have advanced, especially mechanical industries, for
example, electrical, stcel and cars. As a result of  this development,
Korea has become a rich country and almost all homes have
television, video and a car.
There is no reason why  learners' own texts should not be used as  the raw
data for presenting and practising features such as reference, ellipsis and
substitution. Chapter 6
From real world experience a British person might predict that the phone
boxes had  been  vandalised.  If  you  are lucky enough to live in  a country
where phone box vandalism is rare, you might predict neglect of  technical
faults, or perhaps storm damage, or  teething  troubles with new technology.
When we  predict, we are constantly trying to relate the new  to what we
already know and have experienced. We would certainly expect  this text to
tell us the reason why there was a problem with the phones. We might also
expect in a news article like this a statement from a spokesperson for the
telephone company, and perhaps some  details of the inconveniences  caused
by  the phones being out of order (e.g. an interview with someone affected).
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Interdependmce of Theory, Data and Application. Washington, D.C.: George-
town University Press.
Yngve, V. H. 1970. On getting  a word in edgewise. In Papers fiom the 6th Regional
Meeting, Chicago Linguistic Society. Chicago: Chicago Linguistic Society.
Yde, G.  1980a. The functions of phonological prominence. Archivum Linguisti-
cum,  XI, 314.
Yule, G.  1980b. Speakers' topics and major paratones. Lingua, 52,3347.
Zamel, V.  1983. Teaching those missing links in writing. English Language Teach-
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Zydatiss, W.  1986. Grammatical categories and their text functions  -  some impli-
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abstract, 138
act, 22,25,33
adjacency pairs, 24,11%22,131,145
- advcrbkls, 34,51,54,169
agreement partcms, 71,121
Allerton, D.  J.,  63
Amerian norms, 129,152
anaphoric nouns, 76
anaphoric reference, see rcfmna
ad,  48,49,155,165
,  Anderson, A.,  146
anecdotes, 137-42,145
antonymy, 69,71
apologies, 121
Arabic, 92, 164,165
Ashby, M.,  22
aspect, 5%2,63
imperfective, 62
perfective, 62
present progressive, 61,63
assimilation, 89
Aston, G.,  16,137
Austin, J. L,  5,9
Australian  intonation, 117
auxiliary contrasting, 43-4
back-channel,  127,139,141,145
Bicklund,  1.,  171
Bailey, R. W.,  73
Bar-Lev, Z.,  16.5
Barns, B.  K.,  63
Beattie, G. W.,  146
becawe, 49-50,lSS
Belton, A.,  137
Bmson, J. D.,  87
Bibcr, D.,  171
Blum-Kulka, S.,  145
Bodman, J. W.,  145
Bolingcr, D.,  92-3
Bonone de Manrique, A. M.,  92
Boyce, S.,  101
Boyle, J.,  108
Bradford, B.,  99,111,  I12
Brady, K. D.,  146
Brazij, D,  C.,  16,33,94,95,109,111,112,
114,117
Brown, E.  K.,  143
Brown, G., 33,41,87,89,909  1014,113,
117,146
Brown, P.,  145
Brunak, I., 44,120
Burten, D.,  33
Bumrworth, B.,  146
Bygate, M.,  146
Cameron, D.,  145
Carfell, P. L.,  171
Carter, R. A.,  33,87
Camn, A.  S.,  171
cataphoric reference,  fl  see rtfinnct
Chafe, W.,  171
Chiwe, 165
citation fonn, 89,95
cimtions, 60,63
clah-counterclaim, see  pamrns in
text
classroom discourse, 12-19,21,24,111,
122-3,128,  lsl,  145
clause, 34,99,100,117,152
clause-relational approach, 29-31,33,
155-7
clcft sarucnrtcs,  58,169
pseudo-,  58
clod  sgstcms,  74,M
Clyne, M.,  171
coda,  138,139
c4&  N.  R.,  19
cognaa words, 36,163
cohmna,  26,35,70,98,171 cohesion, 2S-6,153-4,156,168,171
grammatical, 35-51
lexical, 63,65-8,87,132
Collie, J.,  136
Collitts COBU1Z.D English Language
Dictionary, 84,95,148
collocation, 65,87,164
comment, 55
communicative dynamism, 52
competence, 50
complement, 51,52
complicating actions/mts, 61,138
conjunction,  25,29,34,35,46-51,155,  166
additive, 48
adversative, 48
causative, 48,63
of elaboration, 47
of enhancement, 47
of extension, 47
Connor, U.,  171
context, 10,43,64, 149 .
conversation, 19-25,145
analysis, 6,33, 146
conversational maxims,  2,s
conversational norms, 6
Cook,  C., 33
Cook, V.  J.,  117
coordination, grammar bf, 45
co-rderena, 46,65
Corsdn, D.,  84
co-text, 64
Coulmas, F.,  145
Coulthard, R. M.,  6,12-19,22,24,33,  117,
122,128
Coupcr-Kuhlen, E.,  91
Couture, B.,  171
Craig, R. T.,  145
Crcider, C. A.,  59
crosssultural &dies,  1644,171
Crow, B.  K.,  145
Cruse, D.  A.,  87
Crumnden, A.,  94,101,106,  -109,
117
Crystal, D.,  69,145
cultural concurt, 40
cuhure and rhetoric ,164-8
Currie, K.  L.,  97, 113
Cutler, A.,  117
Dal Martello, M.  F.,  146
Dan&, F.,  63
Danish, 109
Dauer, R. M.,  92
Davy, D.,  69
De  Beaugrande, R.,  6,27,28,33
ddinite article, 35,40,42
deictic words, 149,150
demonstratives, 35,42,74
directions, giving someone,  142-3,  146
disagreement patterns, 71,121
discourse analysis
American, 6,33
Birmingham model of, 6, 12-19,22,33,
122
British, 6,33
historical overview of, 5-7
scope of, 12  1
discouficorganising words, 74487
dominant speaker, 24,111,128
Donaldson, S. K.,  146
Dressier, W.,  27,28,33
Duncan, S.,  146
Duranti, A,,  59
Dutch, 63,114
echoing, 43-4
Edmondson, W.,  145
Edwards, D.,  139
Ehrich, V.,  63
Eiler, M.  A,  63
Eiscnstein, M.,  145
Eisterhold, J. C.,  171
elicitation, 20,23
elision, 89
ellipsis, 25,35,43-6,62,63,  143,166
Ellis, J., 73, 87
Ellis, R.,  68,71
Ernest, P.,  157
Eskey, D. E.,  168
Esling, J. H.,  117
ethnomethodology, 6,24,70,127,145
evaluation, 61,138,140
exchange, 15-18,21,22,25,46,122-6
exophoric  reference, see  reference
Fbr,  D.,  92,93
face, preservation of, 6,24 feedback, 15
feet, 91,  117
field of discourse, 87, 152
Finnish, 129
Firbas, J.,  52
first pair-part, 120, 122
Firth, A.,  49
focus of attention, 38-9,54
foregrounding,  54,59,100
see also topic, foregrounding  of
foreign accent, 89
form  and function, 7-10,18,21,106,120
formulaic utterances, 122,145
Fox, A.,  114
Fox, B.,  66
framing mechanism, 20
framing words, 1314
Francis, G.,  33,63,76,78
Freeborn, D.,  171
French, 6.3,78,92,109,152
Fries, C. C.,  106
Fries, P.  H.,  63,87
fronting  devices, 51,53
front-placing, 47,52,54,63,169
Fuller, J. W.,  63
function(s),  9-11,  18,33
Cairns, R.,  64
Gardner, R.,  145,146
Gcluykens, R.,  117
generakptcific, see patterns  in text
genre, conventions  of, 62
German, 36,114,145,150,156,165,171
Ghadessy, M.,  161
Gibbs, R. W.,  145,150
given and new, 63,-101
Givhn, T., 63
Coffman, E.,  6,70
grammar and discourse, 6,25,34-63
Greaves, W.  S.,  87
Greek, 92
Greenall, S.,  77,  168
Greenwood, J.,  92
Grellet, F.,  63
Gricc, H. P.,  2,s
Gumpen, J. J.,  694
Gundcl, J. K.,  63
Guy, C.,  117
Halliday, M.  A.  K.,  6,25,32,33,35,36,
47-8,52,58,63,65,66,67,69,85,87,
99,100,104,152,171
Hamp-Lyons, E.,  168
Hams, Z.,  5
Hasan, R.,  6,2.5,33,36,63,65,66,67,69,
73,87
Heaslcy, B.,  168
Hebrew, 164
Hermerkn, L.,  85
Hewings, M.,  33,117
Hcyrnan, R. D.,  145
Hilsdon, J,,  49
Hindi, 171
Hinds, J.,  43,59,71,87,  146, 152,
164
Hine, R. R.,  146
Hoey, M. P.,  29,30,33,78,87,155,158,
171
Hofrnann, T. R.,  171
Holmes, J.,  85
Honikman, B.,  90
Hopper, P. J.,  63
House, J.,  171
Houtkoop, H.,  146
Hunston, S.,  33
Hymes, D.,  5,6
hyponymy, 65,68,71,87
hypothetical-real,  see patterns in text
ideational meaning, 58
idioms, 83
illocutionary acts, 29
Indian English, 90,164
information structure, 47,99
instantial rchaons, 72-3,87
interactional talk, 136-7,145
interpersonal meaning, 58,85
interruptions, 129
interviews, 1244, 128, 136
intonation, 88, 89
and attitude, 107-9
and grammar, 106,117
and interactive approaches, 109-H,  114
invitations, 120-1
isolate pronunciation, 94
it as refrrenct item, 26,35-9.46
Italian, 59,92,162,163,165 Japanese, 36,43,59,71,123,129,145,146,
152,164,165,167,171
Jdferwn, C.,  6,134,145
Jenltins, S.,  152
jigsaw  activity, 1534
Johns A. M.,  154
JohwLewis, C.,  114,117
jokes,  13742,145
Jones,  L,  10
Jones, L B.,  58
Jones, L K.,  58
Jordan, M.  P.,  63,65, 77,78,80
Kachru, Y.,  164
K;rplan, R. B.,  164,165,171
Karwonhy, J.,  113
key,  111-13,115
high,  112,113,131
hw, 112,131
mid, 112
Kies, D., 63
kg,  P.,  87
Knowle, G.,  98
Korean, 171
Koster, C.,  63
Kozloff, M.,  142
LPbov, W.,  6,5461, 137-9
Lndd,  D. R.,  117
'language  in action', 149
Leech,  G.,  6
I&-displacement,  54,59
lemn (as  discourse typc),  152,161
Levinson, S.,  6,24,33,145
lexical bar, M  -
lexical  relatioar,  65-8+  71, ?&, 87
lexicalisatibn, 7477  '
lcxix in talk,  68-71
Linde, C,  38,39,54,63
Lindebcrg, A-C,  87
Lindstrom, O.,  117
listarer(s),  35, 13941
listening, 36,146
activities, 135,142
Lo,  W.  A.,  165
Locasao, V.,  145
LMgauc, R.,  171
LSP  (Languages  for Spscific Purposes), 137
Lynch,  T., 146
Mandarin, 171
markers, 2&7,49,54,130,135,145,169
Maynard, D. W.,  134,145
Mazeland, H.,  146
Mazzie, C.,  171
McCagg, P.,  171
McCarthy, M. J.,  33,87
McGngor, G.,  145
Melrose, R.,  145
MeIrost, S. F.,  145
Mmn, L., 101
mental lexicon, 72
Michaels, S.,  171
Middleton, I).,  139
modal verbs, 84-5
modality, W,87
epistcmic, 85
ht,  85
mode of discourse!, 152
Mohan, B.,  165
Monaghan, J.,  63
Montgomery, M.,  33
Monville-Burston, M., 63
Moon, R.,  83
Mosenthal, J. H.,  171
moves,  15; 22,25
answering,  16
follow-up,  16-17,20,22,33,122-3,125
framing, 13-14,22
initiating, 1-6,U), 22,  122, 126
opening, 16
responding, 16,20,122,126
~ueller,  R.  A.,  145
Murphy, G. I..,  87
narrauve, 5,6,61,137-42,146,157,169
natural conversarim, 125
naaual data, 49,59,127,144
natural discoune, 21,54,67,94,118,127
aad  archngc pmm, 126
natural speech, 46
natural talk, 143,145
Ncubawr, F.,  26,33
Nicdercht, C.,  146
Noguchi, R.  R.,  129 Nystrand, M., 171
object (of clause), 51
Ochs, E.,  59
Odlin, T.,  145
Olesky, W.,  145
open-ended sets,,  74
Oriental tcxt, rhetoric of, 164, 165
orientation (of  audience), 56,61,138,  167
paragraph, 58,66,171
see also  rherne,  theme
paratone, 102,112
Parker, R.,  145
patterns in text, 28,30-2,78-83,15744
claim?rounrerclaim, 75,7942, 157, 159,
161
general-specific, 158-9,165
hypothetical-real,  80,157
problun-solution, 3&2,74-6,78-82,
157,15944,168,169
quescion-answcr, 1574,171
Peatson, E.,  71,121
Pearson, M.,  117
Pennington, M. C.,  90
performance, 50
phonemes, 88-90
phonology and discourse, 88-117
Pike, K.  L.,  117
pitch, 20,129
concord, 113
level, 8,101,102,105,111-12,113,127
range,  101,102,109,133
Polanyi, L.,  145
Polish, 145
polite(neat),  6, 15,2O, 24,  145
Pomerana, A.,  71
Power, R. J.,  146
pragmatics, 2,5-6
Prague School, 6,S2
prediction, ?7,127,142,169
problab.solution  see patterns in text
ptocedural approach, see written discourse
process approach to writing, 156,168
prodaiming function, 109
prominence, W-9,101,117
nuclear, 99
pronominalisation, 25,63,166
pronouns, 34,35,36,42,65,74,87
pronunciation, 88-90
prosodic kturcs, 90
Psathas, G.,  142,145,146
question-answer, see  pattvns in text
questions, 7-8,  15, 18,21,1M,  125
Quirk, R.,  37,43
reader, 35,36,42
discoutse  ad  the,  168-9
reading, 26-7,58,77,171
reciprocity, 136,145, 171  -
Rcddick, R. J.,  33
Redcker, G.,  171
Redman, S.,  64,68,713
reentering of noun phrases, 66,87
Rccs, A.  B.,  114
reference, 34,35-42,46,166
anaphoric, 34,35,42,43,  166,167
cataphoric, 36,41-2,43
exophoric, 35,39-41,43,149-50
register, 32,56, 82-4,85,87,  154
Reichrnan-Adar, R.,  63
reiteration, 654.69
relexicalisation, 6P-71
repetition, 26,65-8,71,166,167
mo1ution (of story), 61, 138
theme, 34,47,51-9,63,100,165
of paragraph, 58
rhetoric, 56,1644,171
rhythm, 904,117
rhythmicality, 89,91-3
Ricento, T., 63
Richards, J.,  87,90, 146
Riddle, E.,  63
Riley, R.,  33
Rivero, M-L., 63
Rob-,  J.,  108
Robinson, P.,  78
role play, 121,128
Romance texts,  rhaoric of,  164
Rumelha% D. E.,  171
Russian, 63,164
Ryaoft, R.,  157
Sacks, H.,  6,120,127,145,146
Sda,  R.,  44,121,171 Sc&,  D.,  101,104
Sdugloff, E. A.,  6,120,146
schema theory,  168-9,171
schemata, content and formal, 169,171
Schenkein, J., 33, 145
Schiffrin, D.,  61,63, 145
Schmidt, R. W.,  87
Schopf, A,,  63
Schubiger, M.,  117
scientific  text, 60
Scollon, R.,  94
Scuffil, M.,  114
Searle, J. R.,  5,9
second pair-part, 120, 122
segmental features, 90
segments, 28-9,36,38,46,60,66,74,75,
83,112,155,162,171
semiotics, 5
Semitic, 164
sentence, 152
shared knowledge, 3941,149
Shih, M.,  171
signals, W,31,46,49-50,75,824,87,  157,
1634; 166,169
Signorini, A.,  92
silences, 129,134
simplification,  67
Sindair, J. McH., 6, 12-19,22,24,33,  122,
128
SIater, S.,  136
Slavic, 62, 63
Smith, E. L,  171
Spanish, 36,63,68,78,92,123
spatial orientation, 54
speech act(s)
and discourse, 9-11,12,18,tt,  29
theory, 5
SPA
and grammar, 143-4,  I45
and writing, 14%52,171
spoken discourse, models of analysis  of,
12-25
Stalker, J. C.,  171
Stalker, J. W.,  171
Stark, H.,  171
Starkey, D.,  146
starter, 20
St&,  E.  L,  134,145
Stdfensen, M.,  168,171
Stenstriim, A-B.,  117
stories, 136,13742, 145
strcss,  108,117
primary, 95
secondary, 95
word, 94-6,97,94
stress-timing, 91-2,117
Stubbs, M.,  33,68, 87
style, 56
subject, 51,52
substitution, 35,45-6,63,  166
sub-topic, 49,54,69-70,  101,115,133, 134
superordinate, 66,67,87
Swan, M.,  60,95,138,168
Swedish, 78,  123
syllable-timing, 92
synonymy, 65-8,69,71,87
Tagalog, 59
tags, 106
Tannen, D., 33,149
task-bad  learning, 131,150
Taylor, D.  S.,  94
Taylor, T. J.,  145
telephone  calls, 146
tempo, 94
tenor of discourse, 85, 152
tense, 5942,63,153
historic present, 61
past simple, 59-62
present perfect, 5940,62
termination, 113
text grammar, 6
turt types,  147-9
textual meaning, 58
textuality, 35,46,65,87
Thai, 92
thanking, 15,16,18,1U),  145
that, 11,35-9,63,74,142
Thavenius, C.,  37
them, 34,47,51-9,63,87,100,165
of  paragraph, 58
his, 11,35-9,74,  142
Thomas, A.  L.,  43
Thompson, I.,  108
Tierney, R. J.,  171 Index
ton&)
approaches  to,  10611
contour, 8,105, 107,109
fall-rise, 105,110-11,114
fill(ing), 13,105-11,114
group, 99-101,  109, 117
level, 105, 108-9
rise-fall, 105, 107, 111
risc(ing), 105-6, 1  Oel  1
types  of, 105-6
unit, 99
tonic, 99-101,  1W
Toolan, M.  J.,  146
topic, 24,38,6%70,87,  131-6, 145
foregrounding of, 66
framework, 545
key and, 112-13
natural development  of, 70
paratone and, 102
pitch and, 101, 113,115
sentences, 58,63
'topping-and-tailing'  activities, 131
Tottie, G.,  171
Tracy, K.,  145
transaction, 13-14,22,24,130-1
transactional talk, 136-7,  145
transcription, 102,104,115
Trosborg, A,,  121
turn, 69,70,113
rum-taking, 6,24,101,104,117,127-9,
146
Van Dijk, T. A.,  6,33
'vocabulary 3',  76
vocabulary
and discourse, 6+87
Graeco-Latin, 82,M
materials, 68
and the organising of text, 7444,1634,
166
procedural, 78
schematic, 78
voice-setting features, 90,117
vowels
full, 92
reduced, 92,93
Walter, C.,  60,95
Wardaugh, R.,  70
Waugh, L R., 63
well, 11
wb- clauses, 143-4
wh- questions, 106,111
Widdowson, H. C., 33,78
Wienbidta, A,,  171
Willems, N.,  114
Winter, E.  O., W,33,47,76,  155,
171
Wisniewski, E.  J.,  87
Wong, R.,  117
word(s)
content, 74
empty, 74
full, 74
€unction, 74,9
general, 66
grammar, 74,97
lexical, 74,85,97
word order, 52,63
writing, 26,87
written discourse, 25-32
procedural approach, 27,33
units in, 152-4
Yngve, V.  H.,  127
Yule, G.,  33,41, 87,97, 101, 117
Zambian English, 49
Zmel, V.,  171
Zydatiss, W.,  59-60 Discc,.me  Analysis  for Language Teacbrs
Diwmrse And3sjs  jor  hngunge Te~r'hi?r$  is a practjc~l
introdurtion to discourse analysis and ifa reWdrrce for
I  anguage teaching,
The book  begins with  fhe qtion: What is discourw
analysis.:  Diflment plackls of analysis are outlind and
waluated in  terms of  their ~lvefulness  to language teachers.
ThiY is folhwed by chapters ddng  with new wqs of
hkiing at grammar, mateulary and phmal~gy  in  the light
td &swum?  malyds.  The fmal sation of  tk  hk
Concentrates on spoken d  written language wih exampla
from native-speaker and  learner data,  It  aI%o  consi&rs some  .
teaching approaches based on  tbe  insights ofdiscoars#
analysis.
Wxorlrs;e Aiml#ris for  Ltltgua$t Tmrh~n  contains
I  r~a&r  activities with guidame on  appropdate rspcqses
TL  -,.  m  further I  reading wggmtions for each chapter
CAMBRIDGI
UNIVERSITY  PRES:

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